#also then to have the nerve to NOT call him what he is a MISOGYNIST bc alicent apparently backs him up??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ot3 · 9 days

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hey, i only just recently finished bridge to turnabout (the final case of the aa trilogy) and wanted to go back and see your thoughts on godot since personally i have very mixed feelings on him altogether. you can just reply with a link to a post where youve already explained how you feel in more detail (i remember seeing a post where you have but tumblr search function is ass so i cant find the one i was thinking about) or use this as an opportunity to bitch about him if youd like. but i generally think that you have a knack for putting opinions i already have into words perfectly and wanted to revisit ones on him specifically with a new set of eyes now that i finally understand the context behind everything. peace and love ✌🏽

ohhhhh man godot. a lot to unpack there. I feel like for the most part whatever thoughts i've posted about godot have been kind of piecemeal so ill try and put it into something more coherent and comprehensive here. well first of all congrats on finishing the trilogy i hope you enjoyed it!!! bridge to the turnabout is SUCH an excellent case on almost every level but. the writing centered around godot really spoils it and stops it from living up to it's full potential....

i was warned i wasnt going to like godot going in so i was really surprised that up until bttt, i actually did end up liking him! i thought he was hysterical! and i still do. but i really can't Like him because of what the writing centered around him does to the integrity of aa3's arc. I don't like what it does to mia's place in the narrative and I think it undercuts the emotional realism that makes ace attorney's slapstick ass nonsense murders manage to land right. i guess ill address each one of those points on their own?

I don't like what godot's writing does to mia's place in the narrative!

Mia's death is something that's completely within her own agency; it is her own phone call with her own sister, talking about evidence for the case she herself has spent years building, that gets her killed. None of this has anything to do with phoenix. She is no strings attached presented as his mentor figure and I think this dynamic is what prevents Mia's death from feeling like fridging despite it technically being something that has to happen to allow phoenix to take center stage in the upcoming events of the game.

then godot comes in and the narrative he imposes on her death feels like it retroactively turns it into Fridging! I mean 'is this character death the Fridging Trope or the Death of the Mentor Trope' is kind of milquetoast tvropes brained level media critique here but im really using these concepts as a shorthand for the level of agency a female character is allowed to have in her own death, and the degree to which that death is used as a tool for men's emotional development. but anyway the point being that the fact that godot views mia death as phoenix's responsibility is an inherently misogynistic bit of character writing. their power dynamic is such that mia was the one responsible for phoenix's wellbeing if anything, as his boss, his senior, and his mentor; the only reason godot presumes phoenix to be responsible for mia's death is because he a man who was in proximity to her! which fucking suuuucks.

Something I don't see talked about a lot is that godot also has beef with phoenix for being dahlia's stooge, which i think is a MUCH more interesting angle for his character. but that's presented as a separate thing from his feelings about mia's death

Godot: …… I never liked you. Six years ago… …you helped the woman who put me to sleep by hiding her bottle of poison. And then… While I was sleeping… …you let Mia die. But you didn't care. You just kept living your pathetic, happy-go-lucky life. You even had the nerve to follow in her footsteps as a lawyer. I could never forgive you. That's what I thought.

now to be clear i don't think the narrative frames his blaming phoenix as something we're supposed to agree with. Godot has his whole confession at the end where he admits he views himself as responsible for failing to protect her. but it does basically mean that her death stops being something that was About herself and the choices she made and her relationship to her family, and instead becomes About the effect it had on the men in her life. which i really don't like!

NUMBER TWO. I think godot's writing lessens my ability to get emotionally involved in this case

Even within ace attorney's fucking moon logic bridge to the turnabout pushes my suspension of disbelief past its breaking point. I don't care about the pendulum horseshit. I don't care about the ghost possession. I'll accept all of that. What I can't accept is: why does no one EXCEPT godot himself seem to care that this entire murder could have been avoided if maya at any point been warned about it? Misty and Iris just as guilty of this as godot is, but the biggest difference between them and godot is that 1. misty has been a deadbeat for ages and is now just Dead. Her primary established character trait is not talking to her fucking kids. 2. Iris has been working as dahlias accomplice for her entire life and so the idea that she would willingly conceal this has much more legitimacy to me.

We are supposed to accept and sympathize with the idea that protecting maya Actually Was Something He Did. I say were are expected to accept and sympathize with that because phoenix and maya sure do! I guess you could interpret this as them trying to give some comfort to a man that is clearly at the end of his rope and about to be sent to prison.

Phoenix: Y-You're wrong! You put your life on the line to save Maya! Godot: Was it really for Maya's sake...? Even I'm not really sure. [cut some lines for brevity] Godot: You were the one who made me realize my folly. You never ran away from Mia's death. Instead, you picked up where she left off, as a true defender of the people. In that one moment... I understood everything! Phoenix: Mr. Godot... Godot: I think you already know this, but if you don't... My name is... Diego Armando. Maya: M-Mr. Armando! I believe in you! I know you were trying to save me!

then, later on:

Phoenix: (So I guess it's all over... The way everything ended... Was justice really served...? The man who risked his life to save Maya is being sent to prison by my own hand...) Mia: Of course justice was served. Phoenix: M-Mia! Mia: ...I'm proud of you, Phoenix. Your defense was... truly brilliant. Phoenix: B-But I couldn't save Mr. Armando! The man who cared so deeply for you... Mia: You're wrong, Phoenix. You did save Diego. You saved him in the only way possible.

I guess technically godot did risk his life to save maya. and I do like the conclusion that basically being laid bare and brought to accountability like that is what godot needed to 'save' him. but i'm just not sure why the fact that maya was only in danger in the first place due to godot's choices doesn't factor into how phoenix feels about him 'saving' her. I just don't buy it!!!

It lacks the emotional weight that other instances of Avoidable Tragedy in the series have had. Ace attorney is at its best when the relatively grounded emotions are contrasted by the zany impossible crime antics. But i think BTTT is an instance where the emotional realism isnt taken far enough to distract me from the convoluted nature of the actual events that have just taken place. Rather than being so in touch with the characters during this case that i can tap into the Tragedy aspect of 'this didnt need to happen like it did' i just find myself frustrated by the fact that it didn't need to happen like it did. It kind of chafes the whole case for me and at the end I didn't feel any sort of cathartic victory regarding the events that had just transpired. but that was clearly the feeling they were going for

i did enjoy godots for the most part, but i think you'd need to make some serious overhauls to the storyline to have this specific case reach its full potential. it's a good case! but as the end to the entire trilogy i just can't help but resent the fact that it has the clumsiest writing out of any of the individual games' finales. and that everything i disliked about it is attributed to the actions godot took and the reactions other characters had to that.

#ace attorney #ask #authenticyuri

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saintescuderia · 4 months

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STOMACHING YOU // MV33

(a pancakes oneshot!)

AKA - max comes to you after winning abu dhabi 2021 and becoming a world champion

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: hello! welcome to another oneshot part of the pancakes!universe. and of course i would choose such a controversial moment to write about. please remember creative liberties in fiction. we love max and lewis equally (oscar's chandler bing level sarcasm is the real goat here c'mon)

TW: emetophobia

(unedited.)

You were mopping up vomit.

For some reason, it was this pile of vomit that occupied your thoughts. Who had done it? When had they had done it? It was in between the Mercedes and Red Bull motorhome so it could’ve been either. Team members throwing up from the sheer nerves wasn’t something new to you. But today, tonight, after everything... it really could’ve been from anything. Both teams had gone through it tonight. Everyone had gone through it tonight. The vomit before you could’ve very well had been come out of you from everything you had witnessed.

The nausea you had felt hadn't let up since last night. Last night when Domenicali had specifically requested you to work the bar and you had served all the rich, white men drinks who laughed jovially as Free Practice spun past and you anxiously snuck glances on the Red Bull with the Black T-Cam. Number 33. Verstappen. Max. Your old driver.

He was so close to getting what the two of you had dreamed about for so long.

You really had wanted Max to win. Of course you did. He had been your driver since entering F1. He was your driver and, honestly, there was a part of you that was always going to be reserved for him.

It wasn't the same thing with that you had for Charles - that was something entirely different. But Max was the first and only driver that you had officially trained, that you had gone through all the F1 bullshit with.

Whereas Charles was perfectly media trained, Max always blamed (or credited) his shit-talking to, well, you.

Lewis was a brilliant driver, and with one of the kindest souls to match. Despite everything with F1, the man had survived the brutal ruthlessness of the sport and hadn't let the money or fame corrupt him. You had a lot of respect for him.

But it was undeniable that you wanted one for Max. Lewis had seven already. Can’t we just let Max have one?

Apparently, some big oil rich guy with ties to the FIA shared a similar thought.

Well, for different reasons.

“Ta.” Said big oil rich guy said, barely glancing at you as set his espresso martini down at the table. Domenicali gave you an appreciative smile before returning his attention to the man who kept going on. You gathered the empty glasses and turned around to walk back the bar as the man kept talking.

“No, look Stefano. Don’t call me racist. Don’t. But Lewis is… we need a knew face for F1. Do you know what it looks like when I go back home and there’s one of… you know, like Max is…”

You almost vomited.

It wasn't like this was new to you. It wasn't. However, the man being so open about it had you counting how many drinks However, considering the two glasses in your hand, the man was well buzzed enough for his drunk words to reflect the sober thoughts.

From behind the bar, you kept your head down, staring at the Jordan Fours the donned your feet. The Black Cats had been a gift from Max way back when and you had wearing them all weekend for him.

“Everyone is getting bored of Hamilton winning. Put Max’s face. The white hope for Formula !”

Your hand froze. You couldn't help it. Your head shot up to look at the fucking scum that had just said that.

Formula 1 had been a lot of things. Sexist - downright fucking misogynist. Your time as a trainer had a lot of men down playing your skills and work. The added part of your appearance being 'exotic' and 'foreign' only compounded this.

Suffice to say, you also respected Lewis a lot for him being the sole black man on the grid.

So to hear this. Now. In 2021. To hear such blatant fucking racism made your fist curl so much that the stem of the martini glass snapped.

Domenicali noticed. He met your eyes - his petrol friend distracted by the sounds outside - and he gave you a troubled look.

It wasn’t the first time you had heard something troubling. It wasn’t like Domenicali hadn’t ever quietly sidled up to you before with a special NDA in hand and the following month’s payslip to have some special bonus.

But this… this was… this was too much.

Your barely registered the blood dripping down from your palm as you threw the towel on the bar and stalked to the door. You passed another worker on your way who called out your name. You barely paid them any attention. Sure, VIP sector of the Experiences lounge held certain expectations - you couldn't exactly just leave.

But you also knew Stefano wouldn't say anything. Not after that. And if anyone else would have a problem with you leaving, you would just tell them to go talk to Domenicali themselves. There would be no way he would penalise you for that. Not when he was likely thinking right now about what 'bonus' he could give you to compensate for what you'd just heard.

You didn't realise you had gone into the bathroom until you were met the stalls. Apparently your body was working on its own accord since the neural pathways weren't registering the nausea that was going through you. Your legs moved to the stalls. You found yourself kneeling. You found bile rising. You found the protein pancakes from this morning exiting into the toilet bowl in front of you.

Now, a few hours later, Michael Masi had made a call, your right hand was wrapped in bandages, Max had won his World Championship and you were mopping up vomit.

Normally, you would've changed your shoes. Now, you couldn't find yourself to care. The Black Cats had suffered a few scuffs here and there and looking down at them, you couldn't find yourself to even care. Looking down at them, you thought about Max and started to cry.

He had won. The internet had broken. Toto Wolff’s calls to Masi still resounded in your ears. Christian Horner’s tears of joy still flashed in your mind. The TV had caught Lewis crying and his father comforting him. The TV had caught Jos congratulating Max.

You knew all too well that had the outcome been reversed, Anthony would be celebrating like it was Lewis’ first Championship - but Jos would have no sense to even speak to his disappointment of a son!

If anything, you were just glad Max had won so that there would be no worrying tonight about what hidden scars his father would cause him. More than anything, you hated the fact that you were no longer able to protect Max like before. Drama aside, it broke your heart.

But your heart broke today for a different reason. Because even though Max would be okay... you were so fucking disappointed.

You saw - everyone fucking saw - Lewis still make an effort to celebrate on the podium. You saw how Anthony Hamilton still went to shake the hands of Jos, of Christian, of Max.

And Max almost didn’t fucking shake Anthony's hand.

And that, you took on yourself. You honestly thought you had taught him better than that.

Someone called out your name. You blinked. A quick wipe of your eyes and you schooled your face to greet the wide grin set on the face of one very elated Max Verstappen who was still dressed in his race suit standing before you.

“There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"Why?"

"Why? What do you mean why? Because I'm a fucking World Champion!" He said like it was the most obvious thing. You looked around and frowned. You checked your watch. Enough time had passed that he would be done in the cool down room. That meant you probably should go there and finish mopping.

So you sighed and made a move on to finish with mopping this up so you could get to the driver's room. Your lack of reaction and going back to mopping clearly stumped the driver - no, World Champion, in front of you.

"You -- what are you doing?” Max said, completely taken aback.

“Mopping up vomit.”

"Get someone else to do this shit."

"This is my job now, Max." You said and looked up at him with a stern look that made Max's smile falter a little bit.

"Can't you get someone else to do it?" He asked, taking the cap off to run a hand through his blond hair. "I'm-- We won."

"You won." You corrected. "I'm no longer affiliated with Red Bull."

"But I..." He stopped and closed his eyes. He huffed and you could tell that he was trying to sort through his frustrations. You had coached him one too many times about using his big boy words and actually talk about his feelings. Since, of course, Jos did fuck all to help Max learn to talk about emotional needs.

"I want to celebrate with you. It's important that I celebrate with you." Max said, eyes still closed.

"You and I both know that's not going to happen. Your mother has a restraining order against me and your father's mood is going to be dampened seeing me." You said. Max's eyes opened and you hated how the joy dimmed.

"But... I'm a World Champion." He said, sounding like a kid again. A defeated kid.

“You’re still Max Verstappen.” You said, the emphasis. The emphasis served to remind him that, World Champion or not, he was still Verstappen. As in the son of the very man who loathed your guts.

The emphasis also, you hoped was to remind him he was still a person, still Max Verstappen.

You wouldn’t let him lose himself like, arguably, Daniel had in the tempting champagne glory that comes with winning in Formula 1.

And it was that thought that reminded you of the sad fury of disappointment you had been sorting through before he'd surprised you.

"Are you at least going to congratulate me?” Max asked. "I just became a World Champion finally. Everything we always said and you're mopping up fucking vomit!"

You stopped and looked up at him. You thought carefully of your next words. Taking a breath, you spoke.

"Did you shake Lewis' hand?"

"What?"

"Did you shake Lewis' hand?" You repeated.

"Why the fuck would that—"

"Sportsmanship, Max." You interrupted him and then went back to mopping. "That’s why. Sportsmanship."

This set him off. "Are you serious right now?" He called your name out and when you continued mopping, he came round and pulled the mop away from you. You stepped back and he stepped forward and suddenly both of you had your shoes - his racing shoes and your Jordan 4s - were now in it. "I did it. i finally did it. I proved them all wrong. Everyone said it wasn't going to happen. The commentators. The journalists. Even Christian had his doubts. But I fucking won. I did it. Jos -- Jos said he was proud of me!"

You fought to keep your voice calm and level. "So why are you here? Do you want me to say that I'm proud of you as well?"

Max didn't speak, but continued to breathe heavily. His pride and his anger wouldn't let him say yes.

"I thought you would be happy! We worked so hard for this. And I'm not so fucking arrogant to admit that I did it because of you. And here you are talking about Lewis hand?"

"Yes. Because I'm not taking credit for tonight. Not one single fucking bit of it." Max blinked, your voice starting to raise as you finally got to it. "You say you're not arrogant enough to want to celebrate with me. A nice shout out to the Hospitality worker who gave you the fucking seat and trained you to where you are now. But you know what? I would rather mop up this shit that pretend that I am happy about what happened."

"You're not happy for me?"

"I'm not happy at myself Max." You said, losing anger and heavy a tired sigh, finally looking up at the sky. It was dark but you couldn't see any stars. The light pollution from a night race was always so ridiculous. Suffocating almost.

"Why?"

"Because I thought I had taught you better than that." You said, finally bringing your eyes down to look at him. "You watched the cooldown, Max. You saw what happened."

"Yeah? And?"

"And?" You mimicked him. "I — if I had been up there with you guys tonight, what do you think the first thing I would do?" He remained silent. His shoulders gave a minuscule shrug. "I would shake Lewis' hand. Max. And I would slap you on the back of your neck and make sure you did the same fucking thing. Just like Anthony."

"Are you serious not going to congratulate me not shaking Lewis’ hand?"

"I'm sorry, and you're saying you're not arrogant?" Your eyes narrowed. "Clearly you're not getting it Max so let me be blunt. I would rather be mopping up this fucking vomit right now than stand beside whatever the fuck that was. I don’t mean to rain on your parade here, believe me, this goes beyond you. But the least you could’ve done was shake Lewis hand and prove them wrong!"

"Them?" Max frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Max." You pinched the bridge of your nose "I work in Hospitality. I serve the rich white man. I hear a lot of shit."

It took Max a second. You looked at him and watched his face continue to look at you confusedly until the understanding set in his widening eyes.

"Are you saying..."

"I'm not saying anything." You said with a grim smile. He immediately understood. NDAs were dished out on the daily around here.

You set the broom down and turned to fully face him. You put your hands on his shoulders and stared him dead in the eye. Given his height advantage, you leaned on your tip toes to be able to reach up and press a kiss to his forehead. Coming down, you saw his eyes shine and you gave him a soft smile.

"Maximilian, my brother, I love you. And I am happy for you. But when you're up, don't forget what it was like when you were down. Hold onto that, actually. It'll mean you won't lose yourself and be there for those that will always be down."

And with that, you turned around and went back to mopping.

Max stood there, unable to say or do anything. He was too overwhelmed with emotion. This... more than winning a Championship... this he felt more. He couldn't put this in words. This hurt. But in a good way. It... He felt... He just felt.

Max vaguely heard his name being called and hands pulling at him. Red Bull engineers talking about partying. You kept mopping. Head down, arms moving forward and back and you went about your manual labour task while expensive Champagne was flowing over him once more.

"Where do you want to go? Winner's choice!"

He knew exactly where he wanted to go. What he wanted - what he needed to.

Despite winning a Championship, Max Verstappen was still getting an earful from Jos.

"Why the fuck did you go and shake his hand? And with all those cameras around? Do you know how that looks? He lost. You won. You don’t need to surround yourself with losers. No - fucking - pity. No mercy! Max! Why do you insist on being weak? I raised you better than this!"

Maybe that had been the problem. HIs methods of raising him.

His father’s tirade went to background music as he felt his phone buzz. He still had your contact details saved as before.

tessio’s wings 💪💪💪

i’m proud of you

Max smiled to himself. It was funny how his father had finally said those words - had finally said he was proud of him - and they were hollow to him. How long had Max longed for Jos to finally say them and when he finally did... Max realised he didn't need them. He didn't want them. What he wanted was you again. To see you smile at him and tell him good job. To show him the love that he hadn't felt for most of his life. He had missed that.

taglist:

@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3 @hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej @bookstore-of-dreams @itsjustkhaos @sam-is-lost @laneyspaulding19 @formula1mount @bokutos-babyowl @stampiej @alilcloudy @bingussthirdtoe @sisinever @lilymurphy03 @inlovewmarlenemckinnon @charllleclerc

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j4ystar · 2 years

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90s LOVE — park jay

➞ bf!jay x f!reader

➞ hockey!au, inspired by the 90s love by nct u mv !!!

➞ synopsis : jay plays against your ex's hockey team

➞ fluff????

➞ word count : 1.6k

➞ tw : jay kicking ass semi-violent fight moment, swearing, just an itty bitty mention of blood

ᓚᘏᗢ aj — LOLLL took me so long to acc publish anything on here. if she sucks lets just pretend she doesn’t. smth short for tonight bc this is all i’ve been thinking of recently. enforcer refers to a player that deters and respond to violent play by the opposing team by starting fights w them. ALSO HAHAH I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HOCKEY.

jay’s vision blurs momentarily as he gets shoved into the side panels of the rink. he regains his balance quickly though, and he brushes off the aching pain in his shoulders. he looks up hoping to get a glimpse of the jersey number that had just body checked him. he stomps on the ice, breezing past his teammates and the opposing team alike. he scans the ice for the puck and finds an open spot, and he watches his team fall back into a defensive position when they fail to shoot the puck into the opposing team's net.

that stupid number 10 was getting on jay’s nerve. he wore his jersey proudly as he strutted the ice with such toxicity. he was a bad player. he had been playing dirty, and the refs weren’t calling any of it. they turned a blind eye to it. he was known as one of the enforcers for the opposing team. now, jay was in no way the enforcer of his team; that was left for his other teammates. jay was the center of his team. jay was warned about number 10. not by his teammates nor his coach, but by his girlfriend.

"jay whatever he says or does during the game. just ignore him."

jay wanted to ignore him so bad. jay could tolerate the rough play on the ice; the shoving was all part of the game, and that game, jay could play. but the comments were much worse to tolerate. not when they included you. number 10 was your ex, jang jiwook. the stories you had a hard time opening up to jay about made jay hate his guts, despite not knowing the guy at all. upon hearing about the things he had done to you, jay just had to know what he looked like to at least keep an eye out for you when in public. throughout the entirety of the first half of the game, jiwook had been throwing comments left and right to jay about you, his beloved girlfriend. the misogynistic name-calling was enough to get steam blowing out of jay’s ears as if he were an animated character. while jay was good at keeping his temper in check, he couldn’t keep ignoring what jiwook was saying about you. jay wanted to listen to you so bad. he didn’t want to upset you first and foremost.

jiwook skates past jay again, briskly brushing past his shoulder. jay manages to skate into an open spot where he steals the puck away from the current holder and is able to turn the game around from there. upon rounding to the blue line nearest to the opposing team's net. jay looks to his right, finding jiwook coming in with such speed that he is sure he is about to come in and bulldoze jay. and so he passes the puck to another teammate, hoping they will be able to finish the play and score for their team. his teammate is able to make the score, which leads to a chorus of cheers from their school crowd.

jiwook skates up past jay with a smirk playing on his lips. jay’s irritation begins to grow.

"i heard you were with yn? have fun with my leftovers." and with that, he skates away. jay can hear him chuckling under his breath. jay breathes out for a moment. the cold arena makes his hot breath come out as a white fog. eyes averted to the clock and then back to the game. jay’s eyes watch carefully as his teammates skate with such vigour; he can hear the calls from left and right, yet as sunghoon calls out for jay to pass to, before he can even receive the puck in the bill of his stick, a body comes smashing into his side, sending jay toppling over.

the audience falls into a frenzy, some cheering, some complaining. jay’s teammates turn their heads in concern for his condition. jay feels jiwook’s heavy weight lift off him, and jiwooks teammates are hitting their sticks against the boards of the rink. despite the heavy hit to his head, jay can still see straight, and all he wants to go for is the big blue jersey with the numbers 10 stamped in white letters plastered on the back.

sunghoon approaches jay; he asks him if he’s okay. but his words just sounded slurred to jay, who begins catching up to jiwook. sunghoon looks towards the student section of the audience in search of you. fully knowing what’s about to happen next.

jay can hear the shouts of his teammates in the players box, and he is sure his coach is mixed in there yelling about not following the play. but he simply shakes his white gloves off and rips his helmet off his head, proceeding to toss it to the side. his right arm comes to tap jiwooks shoulder, who spins around on his skates only to be met with jay’s cold fist to his face. the crowd's roars intensify after the first hit.

the first hit is enough to get the helmet twisted partially off jiwook’s head. but the second left hook knocks the helmet clean off. leaving a defenceless jiwook to jay’s assault. jiwooks arms come to either side of jay’s bulky arms, and he quickly rips his gloves off in an attempt to retaliate for the violence. jay is full of rage; he is already burning up under all the equipment layered on his body.

"don’t fucking talk about yn like that," jay tells him. hair disheveled. jiwook struggles against jay who throws the last punch before the refs tear the two boys apart. jay comes back to his senses upon being scolded by the referee as he gets ushered to the penalty box. jiwook is skating with crimson blood slowly dripping from his nose, it drips onto his chin and onto the neck cut of his jersey.

jay refuses to look at jiwook from the penalty box, but when he cranes his neck to look at the spot where you reside among the other watchers in the arena, he fails to find you. but he knows you are probably upset at him for acting out. despite your warnings for jay, he never promised you that he wouldn’t hurt jang jiwook.

after five minutes in the box, he returns to the players box, where his teammates cheer him on and praise him for being able to square up to an enforcer despite being a center. fighting wasn’t jay’s job, at least not on the ice. but fighting for you? it was his job, and he takes his job very seriously. his teammates send him to the locker room, and jay wholeheartedly expects his coach to be in the locker room, where he would get scolded and lectured for not waiting on an enforcer on his team to take the damage for him. that wasn’t what entirely plagued his mind though.

upon reaching the changing rooms, he pushes them open and expects to face his rugged and scary coach. but as he prepares to feel his coach’s wrath rain down on him, he finds you instead. your purse dangling by your side while you stand with your arms crossed. you wear jay’s jersey with pride, regardless of his new reputation on the ice and the several stares people gave you when you began to make your way to the change rooms to talk to jay.

"look, i’m sorry—"

"you fucked him up good, you know." you told him, and jay lets out a breath of relief. you weren’t that mad. at least if you were, it wasn’t really showing. "he was saying shit about you. what did you expect me to do?" jay asks you, crossing his arms over his chest to mimic you.

"didn’t i tell you to ignore him?"

"how ‘bout you try ignoring my ex when she calls me her leftovers?" jay argues, huffing out in annoyance. jay sits on one of the benches, exhausted and with his head still spinning. you stop your movements. "he called me his leftovers?" your expression morphs to that of amusement. "well now i’m glad that you kicked his ass." you say. maneuvering past the other benches and duffle bags scattered over the floor. you take jay’s head into your arms and stand between his legs. he lays his head on your chest automatically. jay’s arms come around your torso, hugging you closer to him. a hand rests on one of his shoulders while the other tangles in jay’s hair.

"and to be clear, if your ex said anything bad about you, i would fight her too." you laugh softly. you can hear jay’s muffled chuckles. "i think i've got to go before your coach actually comes and scolds you." you tell him softly. he lets out a whine, his arms circling around you tighter, refusing to let you go.

"you still have a game to play, jay." you tell him sweetly, hands coming to his shoulders. he parts from you. looking up at you with such a yearning gaze. his eyes are soft. contrasting the way his eyes sharpened when he looked at jiwook with such fervour during the game. you bend down to press a kiss onto the corner of jay’s lip. when you pull away, jay follows your lips. his eyes fluttered closed and not realizing what he was doing. a small smirk appears on his lips as he looks away from you and refocuses his gaze onto a different corner of the room out of a sudden burst of timidness. jay would do anything for you, even if that meant getting benched for the rest of the season because your loser dickhead ex boyfriend is salty you found a better man.

"park, you’re supposed to be attacking the net, not the opposing players." you and jay jump at the voice of jay’s coach booming through the locker room.

THE END WAHOOOOOOO

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marvelights625 · 10 months

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why are people who don’t like sylvie being called sexist? why are people who don’t like sylki and prefer lokius being called misogynist?? like what is your logic?

there is absolutely no reason for me to like sylvie. she literally told loki he had ‘the nerve’ to come to her, when he was just trying to explain the consequences for her actions and ask her for help.

she asked ‘is this the best you can do?’ when she didn’t even try shit to help those timelines.

she didn’t want to understand. she didn’t want to listen. she thought she was the one who was right, and the moment her life was threatened, she was just like fine…i’ll be on loki’s side.

she didn’t like it when loki was guiding everyone at the tva. she wanted the control, therefore her impatience.

she didn’t have any problem calling mobius careless, when she sat on her ass and ate mcdonalds after destroying the timeline.

but no, she was treated like a princess. nobody said anything to her. everybody was kind to her.

oh yeah, and i’m sorry, but so what if she’s had a rough past. i don’t care. i don’t love her for her past, i’d love her for who she choses to be. so stop it with that lame ass excuse.

why should i ship my favorite character with her?

do they care about each other mutually? no

does sylvie trust anybody but herself? no

does she respect him? no

is there any healthy communication? no

are they happy around each other? fucking no.

while they want romance between these two, the want ‘healthy male friendship’ between loki and mobius.

the ones who care deeply and are always supporting each other

the ones who don’t hesitate to trust one another.

the ones who show respect for the other

the ones who offer comfort when the other feels insecure.

the gleaming smiles when the other says something.

loki literally said ‘you saw something in me that i didn’t see in myself’

is it so bad to want this kind of love for your favourite character?

and for those calling us misogynistic, sylvie is typically what a misogynistic man thinks of a ‘strong female character’

‘take a white blonde woman. make her angry and loud and make her always speak over her male counterpart. yeah, that’s woman empowerment! also she has the most tragic back story, so if anyone blames her they are the haters. oh also, she’s always right. don’t have anyone blame her okay? the women on twitter won’t call her a girlboss then.’

don’t change your opinion for me, but don’t call me misogynistic. because as a female myself, it’s deeply offensive to me.

edit: this and also that loki deserved better than to have character development from a one-sided crush and a manipulative kiss and it being called ‘learning to care selflessly’.

#loki season 2 #loki series #anti sylvie #anti sylki #lokius

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dinoburger · 2 months

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Demo could be a good foil to Scout maybe... I could imagine Demo's relationship with his mother both being something laughable in Scout's eyes but also touching a nerve he isn't quite aware of - that Demoman does have someone in his life who is that important to him and with who, despite all the problems, there is still mutual reciprocation and value there.

Demo has the insight to understand why his Ma is the way she is, even if it hurts and even if it crushes his self-esteem at times, he loves her and realises that she loves him. It's complex and traumatic, but, at the core of it there is still love there and something genuine.

I could see this being a kind of breaking point for Scout, that this is one area where Jeremy can't one-up Tavish with his pompous, misogynistic, self-important outlook on life.

Because Spy doesn't have this kind of kinship of mutual, cultural trauma with Scout - just masculine bravado. This is the only thing he's been given to attain to.

No matter how much he might want to undermine Tavish and call him a momma's boy, Scout's relationships with his parents have never developed enough for him to really feel safe with them. His mother's retro housewife shtick seems very disconnected from his reality too. It doesn't indicate a level of understanding about what his world is like.

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aphroditeslover11 · 11 months

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The Feynman Affair

Here is the result of the poll from the other day.

A/N: As usual, everybody in this is fictionalised and based on the performances of the actors in the Nolan movie, if you don’t want to read this I am not forcing you so please simply scroll on. I am not brooking any arguments, most of us on here are just doing are here for fun, not confrontation. If you do want to read it however, welcome, I promise I’m not always this grumpy!

Warnings: period typical attitudes, alcohol consumption, suspicion of adultery, angst but a happy ending.

Your relationship with Robert was the best thing that could ever have happened to either of you, though you both acknowledged that it was bizarre in its beginnings. You were a political science student at Berkeley that he had met just before the war had started and whisperings had begun about he production of the ‘gadget’. You had hit things off really quickly and when Groves started talking about moving work to a more secure, remote facility Oppie knew immediately that he wanted to keep you by his side. He asked you to marry him shortly after that, having taken you to New Mexico to spend a few days just the pair of you at his ranch Perro Caliente. He was open with you about what was going to happen next in his life and that he knew Groves would let you nowhere near the project unless you were a married couple. You were anxious at first, Robert was a lot older than you and at a far more advanced stage of life, you also knew that you were going to have to put your studies on hold and the idea of becoming his little housewife was fairly unappealing to you. You kept all of these concerns to yourself though, knowing that if you said no that you wouldn’t see him for a very long time, which was the last thing that you wanted to happen.

Your differences were never really much of an issue, you had mixed in similar circles at Berkeley and he continued to make sure that you got involved in things at Los Alamos. He was far from controlling or misogynistic, getting you a job as an administrative assistant to help organise the chaos of the laboratory, hell, he even cooked on a regular basis. He made it perfectly clear to everyone that you were to be considered as his equal, an extension of him that was to be treated with the same respect. Robert did his best to make sure that you rarely felt marginalised due to your age or sex, little did you know this was because he was nervous that he was too old and out of touch, you were spending a lot of time working with younger men and he was beginning to feel a little threatened. He made sure that his insecurities stayed a long way away from you though, after all you never gave him any reasons to worry.

You were starting to spend more time with a young physicist called Richard Feynman, Oppie has seen something in him and gone to great efforts to bring him onto the project. He was in his mid twenties, close to you in age, and a gifted conversationalist. Judging by the gaggle of women that usually surrounded him, Robert also judged that he was considered fairly attractive by the opposite sex. Though Feynman had a wife who was currently in a hospital in Albuquerque and suffering from tuberculosis, this did little to settle his nerves. You always used to spend your lunchtimes together, you’d eat whatever sandwich you had made that morning, Robert substituting any food with a cigarette as had become his habit (which you hated). You had missed a few of these recently though because you “Got stuck in a meeting with Dick, he was having a rant about Groves, you know how we all feel about him.” Though he hated to admit it Robert was beginning to feel something more than just anxiety, he was jealous. Why did Feynman suddenly deserve to spend so much time with you when he was losing out on it? Did you find him boring and deliberately avoid him? Why had he even gone to the effort of talking this bastard into coming here in the first place?

Over the next few weeks things calmed down a bit. Robert had spoken to Rabi about his concerns, he was one of the few of Oppie’s friends who could tell him outright when he was being ridiculous and he had done so.

“But are you sure that she isn’t tiring of me?” He had said one morning, sitting in his office in the middle of a rare catch-up with his visiting friend and advisor.

“Oppie, don’t be such a fool. Y/n loves you, she still looks at you the same way she did when you signed your marriage certificate. Besides, Richard loves his wife just as much as you love y/n, he would never have an affair. You’re worrying about nothing.”

“You don’t think it’s my age, she doesn’t feel that I’m boring now that we’re living together?”

“No, but if that’s your worry then do something exciting. Have a party for your 39th and invite everyone, including Feynman. Prove to her that you can still enjoy yourself.” Oppie paused for a moment in thought before replying.

“Thanks Rab, I think I will.”

That was where he was now, a big party to celebrate his 39th birthday. Everybody was milling around, locked in various conversations. He had no idea how many martinis he had made that evening and the atmosphere was beginning to become a little more chaotic, the alcohol hitting everyone more quickly than they expected due to the altitude. You had been by his side for most of the night, sitting next to him for the meal and having your first dance of the evening with him, allowing him to lead you around in his favourite foxtrot even if you did tease him about being a bit behind the times. You admitted that you loved his old-fashioned foibles though, you said that it made you feel special. The event only started to go sideways after you and he had got involved in a group discussion, it had inevitably turned scientific and his attention was immediately focused on Rabi and his last posed question. He hadn’t noticed that you had left part-way through the discussion, now being nowhere to be seen.

Rabi twigged his friend looking around the room, noticing quickly himself what was missing. He also noted the Richard Feynman was nowhere to be seen.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go and fix myself another martini,” Robert said, downing the dregs of his previous one and walking in the direction of the kitchen.

“I think I’ll follow him, make sure that he doesn’t get lost on the way,” joked Rabi, following closely behind the host.

As soon as the pair made it to the kitchen Robert burst into an uncharacteristic rage.

“I knew that something was going on, I should have done something to stop her sooner, I just didn’t want to believe it. I could forgive her if she had been discreet about it, but really? On my birthday?”

“Oppie, calm down. I know that y/n and Feynman are both gone, but we don’t know where. They might not even be together.

“Well, where else do you think they could be then?” Even the level headed Isidor was having to admit that the prospect of your affair was becoming increasingly likely. The men suddenly heard movement from the room above them. Your bedroom.

At that moment there was nothing to stop Robert from tearing up the stairs, his friend in tow. He threw open the door to find you and Richard sat side by side on the bed, hunched over something between you with your backs to him. You both snapped around at the bang or your husband’s entry.

“Mr Feynman, would you care to tell me what you are doing in my bedroom with my wife?” God, you had never seen your husband this angry, he was positively seething.

“Dr Oppenheimer, I can assure you that nothing untoward is going on, we were merely…”

“Well, something certainly seems to be going on, don’t you thing Rab?” Robert cut him off.

“Robert, this is none of my business, I’m going to go back down to the party. I’ll keep everyone entertained so that you can take as long as you need up here.” He patted his friend on the shoulder in support, closing the door as he left.

“Now, I want to hear the truth. I’ve had my suspicions about you both for a while, but I suppose at least now I know for certain. Some birthday present.” Dick was trying to be a gentleman and take the brunt of your husband’s onslaught, you were trying to discreetly move the piece of paper that you had both been looking at.

“Sir, honestly, man to man, nothing is going on between me and your wife, I would never even want to touch her.” Oppie raised his eyebrows at that.

“So you fuck my wife and then have the balls to insult her. Stylish Feynman.”

“That came out wrong, I meant that I would never want to do something like that to my wife, I would never dream of jeopardising my marriage.”

“And yet you are happy to destroy mind?”

“Um… no, I…” you rolled your eyes at Dick, he was making everything so much worse than it already was.

“Shut up, you’re just making things harder you idiot.” Richard happily did as he was told.

“Robert, this wasn’t how I wanted you to find out, but…”

“So you are sleeping with him then?”

“No, would you please let me finish?” Robert had nothing to say to that, so your carried on. “For the last few months me and Richard have been working on something for your birthday. He and his wife write letters to one another, but they do it in code so that Groves and his idiots can’t understand it, they’re so thick that they still haven’t managed to figure it out. I know how much you miss your brother, so we managed to get some friends to ask Frank to write to you. Richard had his wife put it into code and send it to him so that you could receive it on your birthday. We came in here so that he could give me the decoded version to surprise you with later. Obviously you have ruined that, so you might as well have it now.” You walked over to Robert, holding the paper out to him. He was completely dumbstruck.

“I suppose I owe you both an apology then.” You knew how much Robert would hate having to put his pride to one side and admit that he was wrong. “Feynman, I’m sorry for doubting you and thank you for helping my wife.”

“No worries Oppie, I understand. I’ll leave the pair of you to it.” He stood from the bed, shaking his boss’s hand before exiting, still visibly shaken.

Robert immediately reached out to you, taking you in his arms.

“Love, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, I was just nervous that you had grown bored of me and Feynman could have given you so many this that I don’t have.”

“Like what Robert?”

“Youth for one.” You suddenly started to laugh.

“What’s funny, why are you laughing?”

“You idiot Rob, did you really think I would have married you if your age was that important to me? If it will make you less nervous in the future, you should know that I prefer my men older, they tend to cause less problems. I would never even dream of having an affair.” Your husband relinquished his grip on you then, letting you move back to face him. His face was awash with shame.

“Can we forget that this ever happened? I just want things to go back to how they used to be.”

“I think that sounds like a very good idea,” you acquiesced. “Let’s leave that letter up here, put it under my pillow where I was going to hide it and I’ll give it to you later like I was planning to. Then we can head downstairs and pretend that this little incident never happened.” Robert did as you suggested, wrapping an arm around your waist before leading you out onto the landing.

“Oh, one more thing before we go back down. You can’t tell anybody about that letter or we’ll all be arrested.” Robert huffed at that.

“What on earth am I going to tell Rabi?” You chuckled at his deserved misfortune, kissing him on the cheek as you headed back down the stairs.

“That’s up to you, but it had better be something good!”

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #oppenheimer #1950s #american prometheus #oppenheimer x reader #christopher nolan #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #fanfic #j robert oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer #tumblr polls #angst with a happy ending #angst #affair #los alamos

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stanleyl · 4 days

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I think Tom's approach to things is : highlight the good and ignore the bad. The one and only Time he called out bad behavior was his post against the racist attacks towards the England football team

Since he became famous, he never stood for anything. Even his charity work , while great, is never approaching societal issues like racism, sexism, abuse in any kind of way. It is great work, but never siding on one side or another. I think he has the approach of many white people I know, while not being actively ignorant, they're being PASSIVE and feel like acknowledging it makes it more real. Things I've been told all my life like "what you've been through" with a polite tap on the shoulder, instead of naming things as they are : slurs, mockery, racism and misogynist especially. Even when defending his own girlfriend he basically said : Zendaya is so strong and has a good head on her shoulders she's not going to be shaken by "all of this". That's not standing for anything, that's acknowledging that "something" is going on, and she's dealing with it. It's putting the problem on her shoulder, without explicitly calling things out.

It is, at the very least, cowardly behavior. But I think that now that I'm a grown woman and all the people I used to be a fan of turned out to be people with questionable values, or at least passive to every world problem as long as they're living happily in their privileged bubble, I tend to only focus on the art they're putting out there. As long as they're not active abusers themselves, I'm like : welp, that doesn't surprise me that they're not standing for anything. It's still shitty, but never surprising since I don't expect anything great. Basically if you're a person in the public eye, you start at 0 from me, ethically speaking, and can only go up or down from there

Now, if we're speaking from a PR point of view, and putting my personal resentment aside, and since the movie industry and celebrity industry in general is a business first and foremost, I'll definitely say it's incredibly stupid to not have anyone in his team act around his image. If you have a client who doesn't seem to do anything for himself, you're supposed to do it for him. It keeps going south and he's not even new to all this so they have no excuse, they should know better by now. It's like they're actively sabotaging him to see when they will hit the final nerve

I mean, you're entitled to your feelings, and I respect your opinion, but he also posted about the Black Lives Matter, like most celebrities, likely feeling pressured to speak up at the time, which was pretty obvious. Maybe staying neutral/silent was indeed an advice from his team or his own decision, but either way, and I mean this with the best intentions, it might be for the best. I'm sure he's a good person, I have no reason to think otherwise, but not everyone is going to be a Mark Ruffalo type of celebrity, and it is what it is.

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vulto-cor-de-rosa · 11 months

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hate will not be tolerated to your blog yet you make sure to put hashtags for the guy you hate while posting neg. go talk about philza being a zionist or something

Oh I'm sorry let me clarify. When I mean hate will not be tolerated in my blog I mean that no homophobia, transphobia, racism and just bigotry in general are welcome here. The reason I don't put "bigotry" instead is because it also goes for hate directed at communitys like furry, therians, or anyone who falls under the cringe umbrella just for having harmless fun. That's what I stand for. So, obviously, I'm not going to be kind to a groomer who was also racist and misogynistic multiple times. Who has affected these communitys time and time again and who really likes to spread hate towards everyone who sightly even dislikes him.

I'm not going to sit here and say that I just talk about the situation because that's not true. I hate that fucker and I'm vocal about it. I'm not sorry. I'm delighted that he's finally experiencing his downfall, that he's finally getting the consequences of his actions. And I'm happy that other content creators are finally publicly stepping out of his circle and unfollowing him.

Also I don't really understand what you're upset about? Are you upset because I tagged a post Dream neg? You understand that I tag that so that people like you who don't want to see this type of content can block that tag and not bother me right?

And another thing, you have a nerve for coming into my blog to call me a hypocrite (anonymously btw. If you're going to send me hate at least do it bravely) while being a hypocrite yourself. "Go talk about Philza being a Zionist" isn't that hating too? Or is it just hating when it's your fave? And I'm not going to talk about it because I don't watch Phil. I don't know anything about the situation and, I'm not saying that you're an unrelatable source or anything, but I'm sure you can see why I won't take your word for it. On the contrary, I know almost everything about Dreams situation because I was in the fandom at the time, so I feel more than justified hating that fucker.

I'm not sorry, and I'll continue hating that groomer unapologetically. You're free to block me (I'm not sure why you haven't already) Or call me a hypocrite. At the end of the day it doesn't affect me.

#what an amazing thing to wake up to #rosa's garden #anon #ask #dream situation #dream neg

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elliemarchetti · 6 months

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Obsession (Part 3)

@jilymicrofics’s prompt #29

Prompt: Disgrace

Part 1

Part 2

Words: 539

If only his job hadn't also depended on that damned phone, James would’ve been tempted to unplug the one sitting on the bedside table in his hotel room. These days it did nothing but bring bad news, like the call he had received a little past dawn and nearly caused him a heart attack. Another body had been found in a nearby park, and his first thought had been that it was his wife’s. For some strange reason, his sick mind had pictured her naked, tossed in the grass like garbage, too pale and too still for him to confirm her identity without crying, but when sleep had completely dissipated and his mind had cleared, he realized his partner would’ve never broken the news to him so calmly. First, he too had a boyfriend and certainly had no difficulty in empathizing with what James felt, and second, he was friend with Lily too. Still, another call, another disgrace.

This time, the killer had picked a police officer as his victim, surprising him with a garrotte on his morning jog.

“Ryan Thomas was a strong, trained man,” Sirius mused, twirling a pencil between his fingers. “Our killer can’t be just anyone. Maybe he underwent military training, or…”

Whatever his best friend said, James wasn’t listening anymore. He hadn’t told anyone that he had recognized, even if he couldn’t put a name or a face to it, the voice of his wife’s kidnapper, but now that someone else had mentioned the possibility of him being a former student at the academy everything came back.

“Do you remember Snape?” he asked, interrupting his assumptions. Sirius looked at him with a puzzled expression, but subconsciously he must’ve understood where he was going with this, or he wouldn’t have put the pencil back on the desk.

“Severus? It’s been a long time,” he replied, but they were both aware of how bitter their former classmate could be. Everyone knew how much James and Sirius loved to joke and make fun of others, and even if they rarely behaved like bullies, showing some decency to the less fortunate, that guy got too much on their nerves to just let him be. He was a racist, classist, misogynist and he deserved to have his life made a living Hell until he retired. They even celebrated with a couple beers at a nearby pub when they found out he wasn’t on the list of names of those who would take the shooting test the following week. Turns out, they got rid of him only for a while, but they hadn’t eradicated his crazy ideals.

“But why obsess over Lily?” Sirius asked, and the question would’ve been more than legitimate, if only James hadn’t been certain he had seen her, on more than one occasion. They even kissed in front of that bastard. “Ask Peter to find out everything he can about him and make sure he keeps it confidential,” he nearly shouted to Sirius before bolting out of the office and heading as quickly as possible to his car. If he wasn’t wrong, and he was sure he wasn’t, there were other clues hidden in his house that, if coded correctly, would lead him to his beloved.

#jilymicrofics #james potter #lily evans #sirius black #severus snape #sorry if making him the villain is too predictable #(wolfstar if you squint very hard)#remember that being gay in the 80's was frowned upon #and sirius loves his job #so he's not making everyone aware of his relationship

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year

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2019, North Island Naval Base - Rooster

Chapter 3 Part 1 of You Are My Soulmate

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: Things at Top Gun are tenser than they've ever been, what with rumors of another mission and Tinkerbell's AMDO team also involved. Rooster still hasn't figured out why he's so drawn to someone who has already found there soulmate. After the way Tinkerbell haunts his dreams, he feels nearly soft when he thinks about her. At least, that is, until she grounds him. He's not proud of what he does next, or the anguish he hears in her voice when his actions have their likely conclusion. Disclaimers: Misogynistic speech. Mentioned Homosexual Relationships. Angst. Flagrant disregard for protocols or Authority. Angst. Anguish. This content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting tag-list requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story. Warnings: Female!Reader Word Count: 2809 A/N: I know it's been a really long time since I've posted this story, but what can I say except that life happened? I also hit a colossal brick-wall of writer's block and no matter what I was hoping to include in this story it turned out absolutely terribly. So three rewrites later and here we are! I hope it was worth the wait! I'm also afraid to say that this is the chapter where all the shit hits the fan! AO3: Cross-posted Here! My Masterlist Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

Bradley can't think of anything but Tinkerbell and the dream he had. The flying? That's muscle memory at this point. He could run drills and fly circles around the trainees in his sleep at this point. The point is he can't figure out why he can't get Tinkerbell out of his head. Actually, scratch that. He knows exactly why he can’t get her out of his head. The citrus scent in his dream? He’s only smelled it once before - in the med bay of a carrier, woozy from pain and painkillers. If that was a soulmate dream, something he’s unsure of, then why do all of his indicators seem to point so definitively to her?

It’s so abundantly obvious that she has a soulmate. Tinkerbell lights up when she’s around Jake. She looks at Hangman - at Jake - like he remembers his mother looking at his father. So why does electricity sing through his veins at a glance from her pretty eyes his way? Why does he feel like any time he’s in the room with her, he always knows exactly where she is? That question doesn’t answer itself in the weeks after the surprise AMDO inspection.

Things at Top Gun seem to ratchet tighter and tighter. Everyone is on edge, sensing a tension in the air that goes beyond the usual machismo of finding out which aviator is the best of the best. It’s midwinter when things reach a boiling point. The Dagger Squad and Top Gun class are pulled into a briefing room on a hush-hush basis, something sealed tighter than a submarine and far more secretive. Maverick, Warlock, and Cyclone are standing morosely in front of assembled pilots.

“Aviators, following the success of the Dagger Squadron during what we’re choosing to call the Uranium Mission, the Navy assembled the Daggers as a hit squadron. Your mission was to assist at Top Gun and assist the Navy by partaking in all of those missions for which your unique expertise would be necessary.” Cyclone’s usually serious, but that Mav is serious sets Rooster’s nerves on edge. “Your specialties are uniquely necessary for this mission. But you alone will not be enough. This is where the current Top Gun cohort comes in.”

“Aviators.” Mav steps to the podium and clicks the pointer, pulling up schematics of a series of bunkers located in the middle of nowhere. “These bunkers, aviators, are your target. They’re located just below ground level in a natural depression, surrounded by a Faraday cage and heavily guarded by both ground troops and patrolling jets."

“So what’re we doing, Mav? A bombing run? Why are these bunkers so important?” Surprisingly, it’s Phoenix asking that question instead of Bagman like it usually would be.

“There’s a high-profile US Government informant in those bunkers. They’ve been captured by the enemy and profusely tortured. But we don’t know which building. As the area is heavily wooded and crawling with enemy troops, our air support will scan and identify which bunker the informant is in and laser target the building so the ground team can extract them. But that’s the easy part of the job. The hard part is getting to the enemy facility with miles of heavily patrolled airways between our entry approach and the base itself.”

“Aviators, it will be a dogfight the whole way there. They’ve got 5th gen fighters. Our only hope for survival will be splitting our complement of 16 planes into four teams of four. We’ll have three teams flying single-seater F-18s. Two of those teams will be engaging the enemy in dogfights. The third will be providing air cover for the ground team. The fourth team will be flying at high altitudes in F-15Es equipped with laser sighting and targeting systems. Using satellite imagery, this team will paint the bunker containing the informant with a geo-locked tag.”

Mav’s final words send unease ricocheting through Bradley as he stands at attention.

“We have to extract the informant before the enemy moves them again. So far they’ve been moving them once a month to another bunker in the area. Our intelligence has confirmed that the informant will be moved to this facility by the end of the month. So we have a few weeks to get the timing right. Failure is not an option.”

Mav pulls up a simulated flight path on the screen, showing both the three attack teams trajectories and those of the F-15Es. It looks like coordinated chaos on the screen. How is anyone going to manage this? As it turns out, that’s exactly what Mav is training them to do. Day in and day out he puts the combined twenty-four aviators under his command to the test. It’s not a guarantee that the entirety of the Dagger squadron is in the mission and the stress shows. The Daggers start reporting for work hours before call-time in an unspoken accord to hit the simulators more because the pressure is on more than ever. This mission could make or break national defense policy for the next few years, if not longer. A week and a half later, Rooster walks into the hangar at half past five in the morning to see Tinkerbell under his jet.

"G'morning." His voice is gruff as he crouches near the jet.

“Lieutenant! Good Morning!” When she slides out from under the jet, there’s grease smeared across her cheek.

“What’re you doing under there, huh? And so early?" Tinkerbell's clearly exhausted. The bags under her eyes are purple as she cleans her hands off on a rag.

"One of the ground crew noticed that your front landing gear wasn't deploying to its full capacity yesterday. Before we grounded you for the day, I wanted to check it out and see if I could identify the problem and get it fixed.”

Rooster can’t believe what he’s hearing. Getting benched in the middle of training for a high priority mission like this? It would be career suicide. Mav might not discount him, but as the entire Dagger Squad learned during the Uranium Mission, the decision isn’t wholly up to Mav.

"Did you find the problem?" Bradley needs to know what happened to his jet.

"Yes, Lieutenant, I did. The hydraulics on the front landing gear aren’t deploying correctly. I’m afraid you will indeed be grounded for part of the day while I get a maintenance crew to swap out the part.” She must read the expression on his face, because she’s checking what looks to be a schedule on her ever-present tablet. “I can get a crew assigned, so you should be good to go by mid-morning, Lieutenant.”

Just as she says those words, Bradley sees Bagman sauntering through the open hangar doors with two cups of coffee in hand. An irrational anger fills him as he looks at the perfect pink pout on her face. Coupled with the sparkle in her eyes, Rooster isn’t sure whether he wants to kiss her or throttle her for grounding him.

“Hey, Tink!” Bagman sounds downright ecstatic to see her. “Your coffee, sweetheart!”

Her smile is like the sun as she says, “Hey, Jake! Thanks! I’ll come get it in a bit. Give me a few to talk to Lieutenant Bradshaw and I’ll be right there!”

“Of course! Take your time!” Jake’s eyes are so lascivious that Bradley nearly wants to cover Tinkerbell from his eyes. Which is ridiculous. Jake’s seen all of her. He’s her soulmate and she’s his. The universe is just taunting him all over again.

“Lieutenant Commander, that is unacceptable. I need to be out there, flying!” Bradley’s getting all worked up standing in the hanger in his flight suit at 6 in the morning.

“I understand that, Lieutenant, probably better than anybody. But I can’t replace this part any faster if I did it myself. This is the US Navy. There are procedures that I need to follow.” The fire Bradley had seen in Tinkerbell’s eyes when she was dressing LTJG Taylor down is back again, and this time against him.

“Can we at least talk to Mav? See if there isn’t a spare jet or something that I can borrow?” Her scoff makes him see red.

“What do you mean, is there a spare jet you can borrow? This is the Navy, Bradshaw, not a library.” She pulls up the jet inventory on base on her tablet to show him all of the allocated jets. “As you can see, there isn’t a single jet on base that you could be assigned temporarily.”

“You’re doing this for Bagman, aren’t you?” He’s so angry he’s in her face. Her chuckle is sardonic as she looks up at him.

“Why the hell would I do anything for Lieutenant Seresin?” She turns the tablet off and sets it on the workbench to the side.

“Because you want him to get on one of the teams for the mission!” Bradley can’t understand why she’s laughing at him.

“Why would I give Jake an advantage that nobody else has?” Rooster can’t think of a single way to respond, not with embarrassment trickling down his spine.

“Well, that’s just great!” Rooster can't resist stomping off like a child at her words, ignoring the look on Bagman’s face as he marches past.

It’s a couple of hours later and as Rooster sits in the officer’s ready room filling out paperwork, he can hear the comms on the radio as the Daggers and Top Gun class rotate through the exercises. He’s starting to get antsy, each successful win of the Daggers against the simulated enemy making him feel more and more like he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time again. He does so much paperwork that the words float in front of his eyes.

That’s when he leaves the ready room and does what he knows is probably the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his life. But he can’t stop and think about it. If he doesn’t take this chance, he might lose out on the biggest mission of his career. He walks down to the hangar and checks out his jet. There’s not a single member of the maintenance crew in the vicinity, and when he checks the front landing gear, it looks the same as it always does. So he straps in, gets on comms, and gets himself cleared to fly again. If he has to lie and say that Tink cleared him to fly, who’s going to know? Of course, it’s Tinkerbell who notices his jet in the air joining the exercises happening in the sky.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw?! What are you doing?” It’s Tinkerbell’s voice on the comms that spurs him on. He tunes out her pleas for him to land, that his jet wasn’t fixed yet, that it isn't ready, and takes off anyway.

For several long moments, everything is perfect. Rooster joins in on the dogfight, relishing in the adrenaline rush of flying and winning in perfect harmony with the one team that’s been left missing a member. He fits in perfectly, providing cover when his team is floundering while dodging and weaving like a true Top Gun graduate. The new Top Gun cohort isn’t doing half bad. Everyone’s flying like they were made to do so.

Then everything seems to go wrong. In one fell swoop, all of the lights start flashing on his jet. There’s an imperceptible shudder in the wings as if the air no longer supports them. Even before Tinkerbell starts screaming for him to decrease altitude he's doing it. Visions of what his dad must have felt like in that F-14 with Mav are ricocheting through his mind as he fights with his jet to level out. But nothing he does makes a difference.

His jet nosedives, the controls locking up. Mav's voice is in his ears, begging him to pull the ejection handles. But they aren't doing anything.

“Ejection controls are locked up, Mav! I can’t do anything!” His voice is a near sob.

"Pull up. 500 feet. Pull up!" The automated voice is screaming louder than his beating heart as he plummets closer and closer to the ground.

"Pull up. 400 feet. Pull up!"

"Pull up. 300 feet. Pull up!"

"Pull up. 200 feet. Pull up!"

"Pull up. 100 feet. Pull up!"

At 100 feet Bradley Bradshaw closes his eyes and prays. He prays that Mav won't take what happens to him too hard. He prays that Tinkerbell doesn't blame herself for what happened with his jet, because it's not her fault that he lied his way into stealing it. Above all, he prays that his mom and dad won't be too mad at him for not living as rich a life as they always wished for him.

Nothing hurts when he wakes up. That should have been his first indication that all was not right. The second is the sound of piano playing and a voice singing that he hasn't heard in fifteen years.

Warm light shines off the gleaming wood of the old piano Bradley keeps locked away in the house in Virginia. There's a man and a woman standing at the piano, both of them singing. Bradley's up on his feet and running to them before he can think. A few inches away, though, he stops, reaching an arm out until he can just brush his fingers across the woman's shoulder.

"Bradley Peter Bradshaw! You're not supposed to be here yet. What the hell are you doing here at 31 years old?" At the first words out of his mom's mouth he's collapsing into her arms, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I missed you, mama. So much." She still smells exactly like he remembered, the gardenias from her favorite perfume wafting through the air. When his tears stem, she releases him and he walks towards his dad.

Meeting Goose is a surreal experience. For one, he's his dad's height and with the mustache on his face and the same shade of honey blonde hair, Bradley could be his twin.

"Hey kiddo. I dunno if you remember me, but I'm your dad." Bradley's hugging his dad as hard as he can before he even finishes saying those words.

"Hi, dad. I missed you. I missed you both." Another tear trickles down his cheek as he sees his parents standing side by side, as young and as alive as they were in their wedding album.

"What happened, kiddo? We've been waiting for you, but we could've waited another fifty years if we had to." Faced with his mom's disapproving eye, the one he couldn't get past even once, Bradley lets the whole story spill. When his words run out, he's faced with both of his parents glaring at him.

"YOU LITTLE IDIOT!" His mom's so angry she's yelling.

"You thought this girl was your soulmate but had already found her soul in somebody else so you took leave of your mind and decided to pull this reckless bullshit?" Her eyes are glinting dangerously as Mom gets right into his space.

"Why didn't you stop to have a normal conversation with her, Brad? You could've, I don't know, asked if she has found her soulmate instead of assuming that this… this…" She loses track of the name and his dad fills it in, "Hangman, honey."

"Yes, Hangman.” She smiles at his dad like she always used to before turning back to Bradley.

“You assumed that this Hangman was her soulmate and decided that gave you license to treat her like shit? And then you chose to discredit her and disregard her experiences just because you wanted to fly on this mission? I hate to break it to you, baby, but I don't think you're going to be flying. Not ever again."

That thought hits him harder than the fact that he's dead, that he's speaking to his parents. But the next thing she says jolts him even further into despair.

"Forget the flying though, baby. Now your soulmate will never know that you're hers. She'll never know that big heart and how much love it holds." When he looks into his mom's brown eyes, they're swimming with tears, tears echoed in his own matching eyes.

"And you just left her to face the world on her own, without the one person who should know her better than she knows herself by her side."

“H-how will I know who she is? I haven’t found her yet.” He’s squished between his parents feeling immensely small and safe, sheltered and protected.

“This place? It’s where we wait for those we love. It shows you your heart. Have faith, my love, it’ll show you yours too.” His mom’s hands are gentle as she brushes his tears away.

“Yeah, Baby Goose. Mav won’t let you go so easily. Just wait and see.” His dad’s chuckle makes him laugh too.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

🛩️ @roosters-girl 🛩️ @infamous-reindeer 🛩️ @caitsymichelle13 🛩️ @mattyskies 🛩️ @cosmic-psychickitty 🛩️ @mygyn 🛩️ @julesclues 🛩️ @greenbaby12 🛩️ @bubblegumbeautyqueen 🛩️ @briseisgone 🛩️ @soulmates8 🛩️ @adoringsebstan 🛩️ @meganlpie 🛩️ @daphne-turner 🛩️ @captain-fandomwriter58 🛩️ @caidi-paris 🛩️@mazzbarnes 🛩️ @thedroneranger 🛩️@super-btstrash-posts 🛩️@eli2447 🛩️@chaoticassidy 🛩️ @kmc1989 🛩️@mayhemmanaged🛩️@desert-fern 🛩️ @cassiemitchell 🛩️ @dakotakazansky 🛩️ @cherrycola27 🛩️@roosterforme 🛩️@beccaanne814 🛩️

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster angst #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw imagine #unrequited love #soulmates #soulmate!au #angst #enemies to lovers #miscommunication

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feministmetalgreymon · 2 years

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The hidden misogyny in anti fujoshi discourse

Periodically a overly online person decides to inform the world that they hate women. But since blatant misogyny is frowned on by anyone that isn't a absolute incel. They try to disguise their misogyny as concern for some other issue. That they conveniently ignore also includes women.

One of the current most popular methods of doing this is to shit on women for liking BL. Which misogynist always seem to think is the worse issue facing LGBTQ people today.

Now logically if someone genuinely cared about LGBTQ issues. They should probably be more concerned about the laws trying to ban trans people from existing in public. But misogynists are not known for their unassailable logic.

So todays winner of the caring about things that don't matter award is this person.

Of course Joshua claims he's not a misogynist, he just doesn't like women. He just wants to burn bl to the ground which only coincidently happens to a be genre of media that is primarily created by women.

One could ask why he doesn't also want to burn hentai to the ground. When it often depicts lesbian, bi and trans women and girls being raped, tortured or even murdered. But that's not his concern he said "queer people". And women are not in his definition of people.

Joshua also wants us to know that he thinks it's racist that people are criticizing him on Black history month. A standard that he does not apply to any other Black people but himself of course.

But I know what your going to say. Its not fair to call him a misogynist. How do you know he wouldn't get equally mad at media that fetishizes queer women.

I know that he doesn't get mad at fetishization of queer women because he works for Hoyoverse. A company who's whole business model is built on fetishizing and sexualizing queer women. Their previous game had a feature that allows the player to seduce a lesbian by sexually harassing her.

youtube

And that's not all. One of their characters for their comics is the Herrssher of Sexual Desire. A lesbian who's power is raping women.

So don't tell me this guy cares about "queer rep". He has no issue with taking checks from a company that portrays queer women as rapists. But has the nerve to cry about how a bi girl reading a comic about two gay men having sex in a way that he does not approve is oppressing him.

#yaoi #fujoshi #yuri #lgbt #genshin impact #hoyoverse #voice acting

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littlemisssunshineshair · 7 months

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entry #5

i am anxious and stressed because a film i’m working on for school is shooting a short scene tomorrow and my cinematographer is flaking on me. when i said that i would ask another friend to do it because he already agreed to do so many other projects, he insisted to do my film. i’m producing and directing and editing this film and it’s stressing me out so much because everyone’s films are filming at the same time and it’s hard to get a solid crew or cast because my school doesn’t give us a schedule for Intermediate Directing and just shoves us into filming like “good luck! figure it out!” when we all have to rely on each other.

anyway, i set the call time tomorrow (for crew) at 12:30 pm and my cinematographer tells me that he’s going to be late because he’s going to the gym with another friend. that’s it. that’s the reason. he can’t bother to cancel his plans to be responsible and follow through with what he signed up for. i’m so upset. i’m so pissed at him. like, are you that self-centered that you can’t cancel plans to go to the gym for a school obligation? are you serious right now?

he also lives with me and i can’t stand him anymore. he is the most self-centered, spoiled, inconsiderate man i’ve ever met in my life. like, i’m sorry your parents cater to everything that you do, pay for your expensive splurges on taylor swift merch and your whole life. get a job. i don’t trust people who don’t have jobs. they are always so spoiled and inconsiderate and irresponsible. you’re 20 years old and you’ve never had a job? you’re a privileged little dickhead.

ugh why did i agree to let him be my cinematographer? i knew he would do this. i knew he would be selfish and flake on me. his dad also owns a gymnasium at this church and i asked to use it this sunday and his dad said that his son (my cinematographer) needed to be there the entire time. then he has the nerve to say, “i can’t guarantee i will be there.” why? because you have something better to do? he always ditches me and my other friends because he’s obsessed with a guy friend of his, D, and follows him around like a dog. he 100% would flake on me to hang out with D because he’s a little shit. i’m so mad. i can’t believe some people. they literally think the world revolves around them.

i’m going to fire this man. i want to tell him off so bad because of how selfish he is and how much he doesn’t deserve to work with me or any other female director he praises and know will make him look good because they are talented. it’s not all about you. also, i saw how he treated a female director and he was so awful. he kept overstepping and tried to direct for her to the point when he was confusing the actress because the director was telling her to do one thing (allowing her to actually act) and he kept giving her conflicting directions. you’re not the director. stay in your place. ugh, men in the cinema department always do that shit with female directors and there are so many talented women in my class that want to be directors and so many men in the department overstep and take away opportunities from women because they’re so used to the world revolving around them.

i’m just gonna ask my female friend to be my cinematographer because she wouldn’t fuck me over like that and women are easier to work with (just saying as someone who wants to be a director and happens to be a woman). women can be a breeze to work with because they listen and don’t look down on you. don’t get me wrong, i’ve also worked with some good men who aren’t misogynistic and really helped me bring my vision to life without overstepping or mansplaining. my guy friend who was my cinematographer for my last film was awesome and i’m forever grateful to him for putting so much effort into each and every shot.

anyway, i feel better after ranting and thinking about good male friends who were awesome to work with. some men really do suck though, and they never realize it because they’re too self-centered. hopefully i figure something out for tomorrow.

#journal

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mlem2460 · 2 years

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marvel au: good cop thor n bad cop loki

everythin basically same set up, but all opinions on loki n thor dynamic? public speculation. jealous loki, prideful thor, n sibling rivalry turned tragedy? rumors started by asgardian equivalent of gossip columns. people talk bout em like they the kardashians. sif n the warriors three major attitudes? palace servants takin lil things way outta proportion.

thor uses his naturally sunshine puppy look n personality to gauge peoples intentions, surprisingly good for intel gathering. no major change, hes still a jock, just one with a golden heart n sum tricks picked up fr his mastermind lil bro. strong leader, relies on each friends specialty n makes final calls. believes in fairness n honor.

lokis the group strategist; first to suggest takin advantage of public opinion to their favor. he respects older bro cause thor values his insight. hybrid wine aunt n mom friend. will fret if u arent eating well, will also laugh n help u avoid consequences for starting an international incident while everything burns around em. self sacrificing, gets on frens nerves.

sif cast as hypocritical misogynist that hates loki as her opposite, when really they r thick as thieves n casually overturn the patriarchy after brunch. self care w loki after beating sexist pig appointment at twelve. regular appointments to salon loki to touch up her roots n bitch bout judgmental cis hets. is blunt brute force, straightforward attitude often misinterpreted. not close to many, but love fiercely those she comes to care for. shes here to kick ass n laugh w her frens while doin it, get out her way.

fandral seen as quippy air-headed man whore, actually soft boy guarding himself w sarcasm but falls in love way too easily n consequently gets his heart broken on the regular. sif once told him to cry her a river. now he randomly crashes their patriarchy pummeling brunches to bitch bout his latest 'true love.' it vexes sif, but she wont tell him to stop cause she needs to kno how these unworthy pieces of crap treated her shield bro; overprotective but wont admit it. loki thinks its hilarious n asks fandral questions that fire him back up every time he starts to calm down. when necessary, fandrals a master actor who can play any part n blend in anywhere. well traveled n smooth talkin, very diplomatic.

they say hogun is grim cause of his mean right hook n grunts that often act as dialogue with few words sprinkled in. quick, forceful, n sever r words strangers use to describe him. n theyre accurate... for his fighting style. personality wise? poor baby has social anxiety n neurodivergent enough to have trouble making eye contact. hes not dismissing u, he just cant get the words out. hes not lookin down on u or aloof, hes focusin on what ur sayin its just hard for him to make eye contact. once he feels comfortable w u, he still doesnt talk that much, but more cause he dont kno how to not be straightforward n prefers to use physical touch or wordless sounds to communicate. actually, his frens understand his 'language' more when he isnt straining to use words. hogun expresses himself a million different ways; walk, volume, facial expression, stims, humming, etc. but in front of strangers? blank slate. no thoughts, head empty, panic mode on. frens presence soothes enough for a few words but no more than that right now.

volstagg is deemed irresponsible glutton ready to laugh at a joke hes unaware was made at his expense. honestly he... doesnt kno how he got here. he married the best cook in asgard that he loves even more than her signature pies! they have quite a few little ones running around as proof of that. so howd he end up here? after hed given up his job on the battlefield to watch the babies while supporting his wife pursuing her culinary passion, how the heck did he end up in an actual fren group that wasnt his kids friends moms. maybe when his bold lil girl managed to get a magic lesson fr a prince to pass her upcoming test? or when thor showed his son a new sword technique that hes never even before? no, the moment he recognized that his princes, futre of the realm, treasures of asguard, masters of their fields, were the smartest dumbest people in all the nine. u kno those best frens that r smart individuals, but once they get together do sum of the dumbest shit uve ever seen? thor n loki everyone. n how was a jolly house spouse that commands a small fleet of children supposed to look at these reckless troublemakers n not half adopt them?? his childen gains uncles n auntie while his wife kicks out the house every once in a while to 'go have fun w ur frens.' dad fren, scolds n frets n compliments. is always right n is too nice to say so but everyone knos anyway. prob most mentally stable one of the fren group, resident therapist/advisor. lives in the silver lining n laughs a jokes made by strangers bout him cause he thinks it hilarious how wrong n ignorant they r. wont n dont got to explain jack to nobody bout anythin, so he mind his business n loves life.

heimdall is constantly exasperated but doesnt get paid enough fo dis

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