#and it feels so significant after their half season of struggle to just. own that.

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 2)

Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 3900+

A/N Note: You guys... Thank you for the overwhelming support on this series. You guys are the sweetest :) I've loved reading your series and promise I love them; just haven't had the chance to respond! Again, thank you for the love, as it's all turned back to you!

As for the chapter... Let's make it more fun (otherwise known as interesting) ;)

_________________

Bucky’s POV

Hidden bugs weren’t new business to us, so after disposing of the picture frame, they gifted us with a note saying, “For your new home, and your first picture in it! ;)”... It was an easy ‘accidental’ drop. 

However, quickly after that, wouldn’t you know it? A new basket showed up on our porch with another set of welcome-to-the-neighborhood gifts from the whole neighborhood this time…

Y/N had ‘accidentally’ placed the newly potted plant, that they had somehow added a very impressively hidden camera on, too close to the edge of the entryway table, so when she came through the door quickly with her arms full of more boxes, the pot was no longer usable. Shame… We did buy our own pot for said plant, so we still got a new piece of greenery without the bugs. 

After those two failed attempts, we hoped our show of clumsiness warded off the assholes and made us less intimidating. And yes, I use that word because I could read easily from our first meeting that they were sizing us up. Analyzing our act and manipulating themselves into our lives in a careful yet planned manner. 

For extra measure on the clumsy showcase, Y/N drove into the trashcans I had forgotten to pull to the curb, making a public display of her character’s clumsiness. Though I later learned she was actually just pissed that I forgot to put them out and found a way for me to pay the consequences in our squabble on the lawn. 

A squabble that started out a hundred percent authentic and then turned into a fake makeup season when the neighbors peaked their heads out. 

“This jughead would forget his head if it weren’t on his shoulders,” Y/N slapped my chest before patting it harshly and smiling at the seventy-year-old next-door neighbor, Gertrude, who always happened to find her rose bushes interesting, only when people were outside. 

She smiled and laughed at Y/N’s wide grin before waving her on as she snipped a few thorns. 

“God, I hate it here,” Y/N said through her teeth, holding her fake smile as she walked past me into the house.

A few more preplanned acts happened while we were outside to show the community that our accidental breaking of their bugs was just that—accidental. It was not planned and discovered at all. 

It had been two weeks so far, and we’d already been invited to a food truck social, a street parade for a family leaving the neighborhood, and an outdoor movie night. All events you would have thought had the same planning committee as the MET Gala with how thorough they were… At least, that's what Y/N said, and I choose to believe that it holds some form of significance.

Tonight, we went over to another couple's house that was high up in the HOA group for a neighborhood barbeque, one where Y/N’s damn lilac tennis dress she had worn to workout with a neighbor, made more than half the dads and men too old and married to be staring, struggle to keep their eyes off her. 

I had told her that keeping a hand on her during most of the party was for the act, but genuinely, I didn’t care for how the men of the group gawked at her. Something gave me a bad feeling about it. And I didn’t understand why Y/N wasn’t phased at all or even slightly uneasy, considering she was just as trained as me to assess and sense all that attention.

As soon as we were behind closed doors back in our secure home, my first question was, “Did you really not feel their eyes on you?” 

She was in the middle of taking off her shoes, talking about some information she had gotten from a group of stay-at-home wives, something related to our mission, but I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around how unphased she was with the unnerving type of attention she was getting there. 

“What?” She paused as she bent to take off a tennis shoe. 

“All those guys, the husbands, and pervs at the cookout. You didn’t notice them staring at you?” I asked again, rolling my sleeves of button-down I had on up to my elbow.

She stared at me for a moment and then rolled her eyes as if she had figured out where I was going with this. Spoiler: she was far off the mark. 

“Listen, if you’re saying that thanks to this dress, which, yes, is a little short, but who the hell cares, is the reason why men were,” she straightened, kicking off both her shoes fluently, now only in socks. “Gawking at me, as you put it-.” 

“I didn’t say that,” I straightened, furrowing my eyebrows. 

“Oh, but you did,” she sassed with a shrug, continuing. “Under your breath when you came up, and you staked your claim by never taking your arm away from my waist for the night.”

“I didn’t say that,” I shook my head. I said it in my head, but I hadn’t said that out loud… Had I?

“Ugh, whether you did or didn’t, I could tell you were judging,” she huffed, rolled her shoulders, and walked past me to the kitchen, going straight to the fridge.

It took me a minute, but I figured out where her mind had gone. “I was judging them, Y/N,” I  shook my head. “I was judging the horny, married, and dusty-ass men that couldn’t keep their damn tongue from falling to the floor with you in the vicinity. Like their wives had deprived them of any kind of physical touch for the last decade, and they couldn’t keep it in their pants any longer.” 

I realized I may have explained more of my thought process than I intended, but she shut the fridge door she had hidden behind and turned to me, scanning, assessing. 

“You were jealous.” The corner of her lip raised at her statement. 

“What?” I scoffed. “No, loser,” I scoffed again, and clearly, I wasn’t selling my answer because she didn’t lose her growing grin. “I just took notice of how much attention you got, and it concerned me that the ideas most of those men were having were far from civil ones.” 

She stared at me for a minute, and I felt uncomfortable in my own skin as she weighed her options regarding how she wanted to react. We still had plenty of fights, but they have been somewhat decreasing lately, and I was hoping we could keep that streak going.

Her assessing stopped, and her grin grew again. “Awe, the Tinman does have a heart.”

And she ruined it. Surprise, surprise. 

“It’s sweet that you care, old man,” she twisted the lid to the drink she had pulled out of the fridge and took a swig before looking at me. “But that’s just a day in the life of a woman. Nothing new to me or anyone with the double X chromosomes.” She shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I mean, obviously, people look at you,” I started, and she balanced her elbows on the counter before resting her chin on her fist. I continued before I realized my wording. “Before you-”

“Obviously?” She emphasized my word choice. “Keeping notes on an awful lot of things lately, huh, Buck?” she whispered my name like it was a secret, and I knew it was for the odd case someone could hear us, but something about her tone made my chest freeze. “Tell me, what else do you notice…?” She tilted her head one way as she stared at me. 

I wasn’t going to lie and say her words didn’t flustered me, but as a reflex, I jumped back into the normal banter.

“You’re not funny, jackass,” I deadpanned and turned on my heel to walk away.

“Oh, stop being such a baby,” she shouted after me, and I heard her sock-clad feet slide on the hardwoods to catch up with me. “Listen, I think it’s nice you’re taking notice of stuff like this. Most men never pay attention to those kinds of things because they don’t have to. It’s not really a normal day-to-day experience for them, so they don’t get it. They don’t HAVE to get it.”

I stopped and turned in my march, and she slid into me from just two steps behind me. I caught her easily, bracing my hands on her biceps to steady her. She let out a huff of air as our chests flushed to each other and then looked up at me. 

“You’re murder strut is too fast for me to keep up with,” she mumbled, scrunching her nose in a relaxed way. 

I closed my eyes for a minute but didn’t let go of her before I channeled back my seriousness. 

“I’ve learned men are assholes, trust me. In this field, we come across some of the worst misogynistic weasels to exist. Wear whatever you want. You have scary dog privileges now. The attire issue isn't what I was getting at,” I replied, thinking of the reference the Parker kid had explained to me recently.

Her smile was unlike any I had the pleasure to be on the receiving end of, and I immediately mentally captured it, worried that I’d never experience the genuineness she was sharing with me in this moment again. 

“Scary dog privileges, huh? Someone’s been brushing up on their TikTok trends.” She laughed, scanning my face as I scanned hers. “Peter finally invested in his version of Duolingo? This one labeled new-age-slang-for-100-years-and-older?”

“Actually called, Born-in-1910’s-and-on-the-comeback-of-a-70-year-coma-new-age-lingo. Very helpful,” I retorted, and the surprise on her face as she laughed at me made my grip on her soften, my thumb unconsciously running over the bone on her wrist. 

The action brought both of our eyes to the feeling, and in the next second, we had three feet between us. 

“I’m going to go take a shower.” Her rush to get around me in the narrow hall caused her to brush along my arm, and it was like the sparks that ignited when I held her tried to reach out for each other again in the brief contact. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” I grumbled, walking quickly in the opposite direction. 

____________________

Y/N’s POV

The last two weeks have been frustrating, but somehow, Bucky and I have learned we work together surprisingly well. We still had our bickering fights and annoying quarrels, but stick us in a house for a few weeks, and we realized we did well at balancing each other out. 

Where I hated doing the dishes, he made sure they were done every night. Where he hated doing laundry, I folded and sorted the linens and clothes. I hated cooking, and he somehow was really good at it. I loved to bake when we had free time, and he loved to taste test. I sucked at most things gardening-wise, and he had shown me how to prune overgrown flowers in our gardening bed. Bucky sucked at interior decorating, so I was in charge of making our fake abode look like a real one. 

Overall, we do pretty well, considering we hate each other's guts. Ok, well… I don’t necessarily hate his guts, even if I act it. I just have a very low tolerance for his bullshit and don’t mask my frustrations when they hit their limits. As for being a fake wife to him where he has to treat me well… He’s been a picture-perfect husband from a suburban wife’s perspective.

The only thing we’ve successfully avoided that I was worried about is sharing the same bed. 

After confirming with the higher-ups that our house was bug-free, we claimed our own rooms (me in the master, of course) and set up our own space. Keeping the facade of a happy married couple outside of those rooms and the house was easy, but I dreaded the day we would have to show more affection and closeness than what we already had. 

So far, a kiss on the cheek, holding hands, a hug from behind, and a normal amount of PDA that showed we were in our honeymoon phase yet did not want to make others fully uncomfortable did the job enough. But after Bethanne commented about when we planned on having kids, I figured we might need to bump up our act since she gave a passive comment about us being ‘rather tamed for a newlywed couple.’

Before I could bring up the comment to Bucky once we got home, he seemed more bothered by the men at the party than anything. 

I didn’t expect him to notice such a minute thing, but if there was one thing I had learned about Bucky these last few weeks, it’s that he’s very attentive to details I wouldn’t expect him to be on.

Then, to further my confusion about the situation, something seemed different in our intimate hallway space run-in, and both of us scurried away as if the touch of each other burned. 

After my shower, I got dressed in my pajamas and heard the TV still on in the living room, where Bucky tended to station himself for a few hours before bed. Well, his bedtime. Another thing about us was that I wasn’t much of a night owl, but I did appreciate knowing someone was on alert while I slept. And even if he didn’t do it for that reason, I’m sure, I liked hearing the TV still on when I tended to wake up in the middle of the night. I felt safer…

“Hey,” I leaned against the wall coming into the living room and saw that he had Brooklyn Nine-Nine on with a computer sat in his lap. 

He looked up and gave me a quick head nod before going back to the screen in front of him. “What’s up?”

“Just needed to fill you in on some of the things I learned at the cookout,” I let out a yawn as the day caught up with me and moved to the single chair across from him on the couch. 

“Hit me,” he rolled his shoulders back, never looking away from the blue light. 

“Don’t ask for things you don’t really want,” I teased, and he looked above the screen at me with a glance that seemed to be holding back a smile before rolling his eyes. 

“What’d you learn?” he followed up with. 

I went on to tell him about the neighborhood drama. All things that may or may not have any major plays to our mission, but information nonetheless. 

“Did you ask any of them about work?” Bucky asked once I had covered most everything. 

Our undercover jobs were simple. I worked from home as a data entry clerk. Something boring that Charolette Hunt has been hoping to get out of and find her passion. All this led to me asking around about job connections and if there was anything I could swap over to for a ‘more exciting work life,’ otherwise known as drug trafficking jobs if they were available. 

As for Beau Hunt, Bucky’s cover, he was the owner of a transportation company. Considering how well he was doing, he took the last two weeks off to move into his first home with his new wife before having to get back into the work ethic he had been thriving in the last ten years. 

All perfect pieces to get the answers and resources from our sketchy neighbors we came here for. 

“I asked Katrina, one of the wives of a guy who works closely alongside Reggie. I figured that was a good seed to plant,” I answered, pulling my legs up to my chest and resting my chin on my knees as I watched Jake Peralta chase a bad guy down the streets of New York. I missed the homeland. “She said she’d ask around, which is what I needed. What about you? Any of the 'dusty-ass husbands' have fun details to share?”

“Nothing more than statistics of sports teams and rookie starters for the state college basketball team,” he sighed, and I turned over to see him staring at me before turning back to his computer quickly. “Reggie was giving me a hard time, though.”

“Oh yeah?” I hummed, angling myself to him. “Bethanne was giving me a hard time, too.”

“Think it’s related to the same thing?” Bucky chuckled, looking back at me, but whatever was in his eyes just seconds ago was gone now. 

“Say on the count of three?” I smirked. 

“One,” he nodded.

“Two.”

“Three.”

“When we’re going to consider joining parenthood,” Bucky said. 

“When we’re having kids,” I said at the same time. “Almost a jinx if you didn’t word it so damn robotically. Did fucking Vision channel into your damn cyborg brain?” I laughed, and I heard a slight scoff from his direction before I rolled my head back and looked up at the ceiling. I stayed quiet until Bucky broke me out of my thoughts twenty seconds later.

“What are you thinking?” I heard the computer shut and then be placed on the cushion next to him. “I can hear the gears working past their limit.” His weak version of a retort.

I lulled my stare at him and deadpanned a bitchface at him. “You talking to yourself again?” He rolled his eyes at my comeback, and I decided to bypass the banter. “I think we need to step our game up. Ms. Bethanne thinks we’re ‘tamed’ for a newlywed couple. In other words, she thinks we’re prudes.”

“We’ve hit the PDA marks we need to,” Bucky stiffened just enough for a trained eye to see, but he tried to brush it off as getting comfortable in his spot. 

“Hmm, so maybe one of us is a prude,” I shrugged, moving my legs under me and leaning on one side of the chair. 

We hadn't kissed, although I would peck one on his cheek, and he would place one on top of my head. But that's as far as either of us had been willing to go.

I know our job may require us to go beyond that, and I was willing to keep it strictly professional even if necessary, but Bucky seemed to want to avoid it by all means. Message received.

“I’m not a prude. I just don’t understand why people have to be so touchy in public. It makes everyone uncomfortable,” he argued. 

“Not everyone finds discomfort in those acts. A lot of people think it’s cute.”

“I’m not one of those fucking people.”

“Well, you better figure out pretty fucking quick how to become one of those people because this operation kinda depends on it.” I sighed, standing up and stretching. “Listen, I know you hate me and all, but if we’re going to get this done and over with, we need to-”

“I’ve never said I hate you,” Bucky interrupted. I looked down and saw him staring at me with stern eyes.

“Actions have convinced me otherwise.” 

“The same could be said for you.” 

“I don’t hate you,” I clarified after carefully studying him for lies. 

It was an intense stare-off, but not one where I felt like I had to win it. One where I felt we were both taking a step into new territory, and neither of us knew what to expect. 

Bucky’s burner phone rang right before I could follow up with my peace offering, and we saw it was the fake caller ID Steve was under. He picked it up and put it on speaker. 

“What’s up, punk?” he answered, and Steve scoffed on the other end. 

“Just your biweekly check-in. Anything interesting enough to make this phone call longer than 5 minutes?” he asked. 

“Don’t think so,” Bucky sighed and filled him in on the steps we had taken to further the investigation. Planting our gossip seeds where necessary and waiting for the garden to grow. 

The call ended with Steve informing Bucky that he ‘started back at work’ tomorrow and would need to go to a specific meeting spot for updates. A way for us to get news that couldn’t be tracked with phone calls and messages. And after two weeks of gathering information and only four check-ins in that time, things were meant to pick up now. 

I had decided to head back to my room when a normal conversation between the two started up and strayed from the mission talk. Then, about 10 minutes later, Bucky was in my doorway as I got ready for bed. 

“Sorry, Steve wanted to know if we had torn each other’s heads off yet. Nat and him have a bet going,” he said, leaning on the doorway and crossing his arms over his chest. 

I shrugged, pulling the comforter back on the bed. “No need to apologize. And who’s winning?” 

“Steve gave it 3 weeks, so he’s still in the running.”

“He’s being generous,” I laughed, fluffing a pillow before sitting on the edge and looking at him. 

“I don’t know. I think we’ve managed to stay surprisingly civil given our relationship,” he smiled softly as if the conversation wasn’t dangerous grounds and could easily go one way or the other. 

“Helps that we have to act for most of it,” I fiddled with my nails. 

“Would you rather we didn’t get along?” he asked, and I could see the start of our normal frustration with each other trickle back into his tone.

I stared at him for a minute. Not sure what my goal was here, but it definitely had flipped from wanting to make every minute with him, his own personal hell.

“Fighting has become tiresome. I’m content tolerating the situation.” A bit of a hypocritical response, sounding robotic, but there was no lie behind it.

He stared at me like I had to him. 

“Right. Tolerating,” he nodded with pursed lips, pushing off the door frame and walking down the hall to his room. 

Something about his attitude made it hard for me to brush off the change in tension. I stood up and walked down the hall. When he was already in his room, I was taking up as much space as I could in his doorway now. 

“What’s with the annoyance?” I asked, looking at him as he arranged some things on his nightstand. He turned around, body lax and almost defeated looking. 

“I’m not annoyed. Why would I be annoyed with you ‘tolerating me’?” he said nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“I don’t know, but you clearly are,” I gestured to him and crossed my arms. “Would you rather I treat you how I have before this? I mean, we can go back to-”

“Obviously not, Y/N,” he cut me off with a scoff, and I was shocked at the sheer anger that I would suggest such a thing. His use of obviously made my brain scramble as well… The second time, that word had messed with me tonight.

“You’re confusing as hell, Barnes,” I squinted my eyes at him and decided I wasn’t in the mood to handle a bipolar 100-year-old man tonight. Maybe it was best if I just called it a night. 

Turning in my spot four steps away, I didn’t expect the hand around my bicep to stop me in the middle of the hall, leading to a pensive look on his face as he stared at me.

“What?” I furrowed my eyes at him and looked at the contact unwavering on my elbow.

“I—” he started and then stopped. An internal war played out with surprising clarity on his face. I raised my eyebrows and waited.

We stared for an hour—okay, nine seconds—but it’s all the same with that level of intensity.

“Never mind.” He dropped my arm and took a step back. 

“Seriously?”

“I don’t want to start something.”

“There’s something to start?” 

“No, but I’ll wait until you’re in a better mood to,” he debated on his wording. “Discuss it,” he settled on, turning on his heel. 

“I’m not in a bad mood,” I huffed, and yeah… That didn’t help proving my point. 

“Sure thing,” he shook his head before walking into his room, carrying on as if he hadn’t dropped a strange and confusing bomb on me that I now needed answers to. 

“Goodnight to you, too,” I grumbled as I walked to my room and shut the door behind me.

Marvel Tags:

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My Lovelies forever:

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Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series:

@jackiehollanderr @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @theroyalmanatee @wintrsoldrluvr @alexakeyloveloki

[ejzah]

A/N: A little Deeks angst for you. Set early season 8.

***

The Bucket’s Full

Deeks hurried into the mission, a cup of cold, leftover coffee from last night clutched in one hand, his phone in the other as he forwarded some of Kensi’s latest medical paperwork to the VA. If he thought about it too hard, the sheer cost of Kensi’s treatment made him nauseous, so now he quickly reviewed the listed services and amounts and then sent them on.

This morning’s visit had not gone particularly well; while the doctor’s reassured them both that Kensi was making progress and actually improving more quickly than anticipated, she struggled with everything she still couldn’t do.

It had all started out well enough with Deeks managing to sneak in early enough to surprise Kensi when she woke up. Their good morning kiss had quickly devolved into full-on making out, and for a few minutes, they tuned out everything but each other. Until a nursing assistant arrived to announce Kensi needed to change for her first therapy appointment of the day.

Kensi had insisted on dressing as much as she could on her own. Deeks could only standby, watching her get more and more frustrated between the lack of mobility in her left hand an minimal sensation in her right. It was somewhere around her twentieth attempt to pull on a sock on that she growled and swiped her arm across her nearby tray, breaking into angry tears.

At least she’d let him comfort her this time, but he’d gotten the text from Nell about an active case before Kensi fully settled down.

It sucked on so many levels.

Tossing his bag on his desk chair, he drank the rest of his stale coffee, and sat down, letting out an exhausted sigh. He just wanted to sleep, though he never could once he actually got in bed.

“Deeks, glad you’re here,” Callen said, jogging down the stairs with Sam at his side.

Deeks rubbed his palms over his eyes, blinking back the gritty feeling. “Morning to you too.”

As they joined him in the bullpen, Sam squeezed Deeks’ shoulder before taking his own seat.

“We need you to call LAPD and get them to send a couple units over to parole near our crime scene.”

“Wait, what crime scene?” Deeks asked, holding up a hand. “You know LAPD isn’t just going to lend us resources without details.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t late, you’d know about our case,” Callen pointed out. Normally, Deeks would have ignored the gentle ribbing. Today though, he didn’t have the patience for it and snapped back.

“I was with Kensi. Honestly, you’re lucky I’m here at all.”

“I take it it was a rough morning,” Sam guessed.

“Oh no, life on the rehabilitation unit is delightful for a 32 year old woman recovering from significant spinal injuries.”

“Ok,” Callen said slowly.

Even with his hand currently covering his face, Deeks knew Callen was sharing one of those annoying looks that questioned his mental stability.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I’m running on approximately three hours of sleep and two day old coffee, so I’m not exactly my usual cheerful self.”

“We understand,” Sam told him, speaking for both himself and Callen. “Why don’t you take half an hour, get yourself together, and Nell will fill you in after that.”

“What about LAPD?” The thought of lying down for a few minutes sounded blissful, but he couldn’t exactly shirk his responsibilities.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks, man.”

As Deeks slowly got up, Sam rested his hand on the back of Deeks’ neck, his touch solid and comforting. It made him feel dangerously close to tears himself.

“It’s going to be ok,” Sam said, emphasizing the words with a squeeze. Deeks managed a faint quirk of his lips before shrugging out from under Sam’s hand, and shuffling towards the hall.

He probably wouldn’t end up sleeping at all, but the chance for a few minutes without any responsibility sounded wonderful.

[mdhwrites]

Unlike what fans say,Luz is a really bad main protagonist in my opinion.I hate her.

I will continue to say that Luz is a plenty fine enough protagonist for a season and a half. She isn't anything special and the theoretical quirks of her character are rarely shown (her past bullying in the form of social anxiety, struggling to make friends, etc. like that have TWO moments in a SEASON AND A HALF. And no, I don't count her introduction due to what she's doing in that montage.) She is plenty likable though, enough of a rapscallion to get into trouble and her heart ends up in the right place by the end of most episodes. She INCREDIBLY generic for her genre but being generic is not the same as being bad or boring. The same protagonist gets used over and over again for isekais for a reason. Their lack of arc or real, hardline character motives allow for easier exploration of the world and of the other characters, allowing the other world they end up in to be more the main character than them.

There's a reason why I've called her a protagonist of all time.

But I do want to say that the show REALLY feels like it feels the need to justify teenage shenanigans and avoid making Luz look like a bad person. A lot of S1 episodes, even the ones explicitly about Luz needing to learn a lesson, barely make her in the wrong. She's wrong in the second episode because someone's lying to her. Two different episodes have her being peer pressured into doing something for Gus and Willow that causes problems. She isn't willing to instigate problems between her and Amity besides Adventure in the Elements and Teenage Abomination. The latter isn't even portrayed as her being wrong but her putting a bully in their place while happening to also get access to the witch school she wants.

But if you've been following this blog for a while, you know I consider Luz eventually to be just a bad person and that Yesterday's Lie is the turning point for it. That's because unlike almost ANY other show like it, TOH doesn't understand the difference between shenanigans and genuinely terrible actions.

Wanting to make your friends happy by using the fact that you're home alone? Shenanigans. Ignoring your significant other's direct pain in front of you for your own selfish needs? Bad. Borrowing Owlbert so you and your friends can see the game after you made them miss it? Shenanigans and trying to fix a mistake. CONSTANTLY LYING ABOUT EVERYTHING!? Bad and not fun for the audience.

That's the thing that makes Anne genuinely enjoyable to watch. You can tell she is commonly a good person but, well... We all have days when we don't want to work. We are all capable of having preconceptions of others. Playing around and breaking things is a part of youth. And she is CONSTANTLY learning from all of this stuff that in the end doesn't really hurt anyone, except herself sometimes frankly, and she always makes it right.

This final part is REALLY what condemns Luz eventually. The show starts bending backwards to justify her doing terrible things to other people, like lying to her friends about helping them save the Isles when she has no intention to go with them. And she's not learning from these things. She LITERALLY never has an episode where it ends with "You're right. I'm going to stop lying because that hurts people" despite it being such a large part of her character for the last half of the show. Instead, "All I wanted was to be understood" is the only part of her arc that is resolved and that had NOTHING to do with why she was suddenly a liar and hating herself because the show refused to have ANYONE treat her poorly for who she was.

Fucking Sprig and Anne's episode about being roommates does more for the characters genuinely chafing against each other and having to understand their differences than... Pretty much all of TOH with Luz? Like early Eda gives Luz shit but it never goes anywhere. The only time it does is when Eda says Luz is weak which isn't misunderstanding Luz, it's worrying about her in S2 because it's an EVIL EMPEROR they're again and in S1 it's just a reasonable assumption of her capabilities because she isn't trained, she barely has magic and she hasn't been shown particularly brave (though also not unreasonably a coward which is a weakness of that part of Grom).

It kind of frankly leads to Luz being more interesting conceptually than she ever is in execution. And for a kid's show protagonist, she really drops the ball because she so rarely needs to properly learn something, or does it in a way that will keep kids engaged, that what are kids getting from her? I have an eight year old nephew and while he did see the whole show, apparently his mom tells me that he found it boring for much of S2 and kept wondering why people were friends with Luz because she was mean and everyone seemed sad around her.

And that's the target audience in theory. That... To me that says Luz failed as a protagonist maybe more than the rest of the words I've dedicated to this. (Side note: He LOVED Amphibia and was deeply invested in Anne and Sasha. Also, my sister says that she could tell his behavior got BETTER after watching Amphibia, even if it maybe didn't always stick for good. So.... Yeah...)

==========

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

[hobbitinthetardis]

me having a full on conversation with chatgpt about the similarities between destiel and bumbleby

transcript:

me: i also think a significant comparison is the build from people who don't particularly like each other or merely tolerate each other to friends to the best friend the other has ever had to lovers

chatgpt: That is definitely a significant comparison between the two relationships. Both Bumbleby and Destiel went through a development process that started from a place of tension, uncertainty, and even hostility, before gradually evolving into something deeper and more meaningful. In both cases, this development was driven by a growing understanding and respect for each other's strengths and weaknesses, and a shared sense of duty and purpose that ultimately brought them closer together. The end result was a powerful connection that transcended mere friendship, and became something much more profound and life-changing.

me: profoundddd gotta love the profound bond

chatgpt: Yes, the concept of a profound bond is present in both Bumbleby and Destiel. In both cases, the characters develop a deep connection and trust in each other, leading to an emotional and intense relationship. The profound bond represents a level of understanding and intimacy that is beyond a typical friendship, and it is a core aspect of both these relationships.

me: i think another major similarity is the individual characters in the ships. like look at yang and dean. both of them are older siblings who seem - or at least try to seam - lighthearted for the benefit of the group, even when they're dying inside. they both practically raised their little sibling because their father was grieving their mother and would do anything to protect them. they try to act tough and confident all the time when really they're just as insecure as anyone else and just want to be loved. 

and then there's blake and cas. more quiet than their other half, more reserved. ashamed of their past in an organisation that causes so much and harm and desperate to prove to themselves and others that they've changed. they never expected to be anything other than alone but were shown especially by yang and dean that they didn't have to be. that they could love and be loved. both are booksmart but maybe not as good with people, seem quiet but underneath all that can be sassy as hell. 

and then there's the parallel with their relationships - how they interact with each other. yang constantly likes to pretend that everything is fine, the only time she doesn't is after she loses her arm and blake leaves. she becomes sullen and bitter. sound familiar? when cas dies dean is always despondent. we see this especially after cas dies in season 13, the way he takes it out on sam and jack is very similar to how yang takes it out on ruby at the end of volume 3.

then when cas comes back, it's not suddenly easy, but dean's mood does a complete 180. he almost kills himself and then an episode later he's smiling and laughing about cowboys. it's a bit different for yang since blake didn't die but after she comes back, especially after they make up, you can see the way she changes, the way she's happier; happier than she was in volume 4 and 5. when cas and dean fight, it's miserable for everyone else - same with blake and yang. 

they're always there for each other. yang and dean - though charismatic and charming - never made lasting connections aside from those with family, they may have had friends but... cas and blake showed them what it was like to have a best friend. to have someone you love and trust implicitly. blake and cas saw them through different eyes, made them feel better and have more love for themselves. this was a two way street.

chatgpt: That's a great observation! Indeed, there are many similarities between Yang and Dean, as well as between Blake and Cas. Both pairs have characters who are older siblings, have a protective nature towards their loved ones, and struggle with their own insecurities and emotional pain. They have a complex relationship that involves pretending everything is fine when it's not, as well as fighting and making up. In the end, they find solace in each other's company, and they become each other's closest and most trusted friends. Both relationships show how having someone who truly understands and supports you can make all the difference in the world.

me: the one thing that does differ, now after the latest episode is... *dramatic pause just wait i'm gonna tell you what it is*

chatgpt: I'm all ears, please tell me what the one thing that differs after the latest episode is!

me: in the latest chapter of rwby we got blake and yang in an almost impossible situation where they are forced to admit their feelings. like when cas and dean are being chased by billie and cas has to confess his feelings to summon the empty. what blake says in this scene:

"i...think...you're an extraordinary person. you're always the first to lighten a situation. you act bravely when you're afraid. you do what you say."

to which yang replies:

"i like that you've never been intimidated by me... even when you didn't like me that much [...] but you never gave up on [people] even when they hurt you. you never give up. you know what matters to you."

when i was watching this scene i was just transported back to november 5.

"everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. you raised your little brother for love. you fought for this whole world for love. that is who you are. you're the most caring man on earth. you are the most selfless, loving human being i will ever know."

what is the difference?

the difference is dean never got to respond. 

blake and yang got their:

"i think i love you-"

"i love you too."

dean and castiel...

dean was frozen in shock and in grief. he couldn't say anything as cas bared his heart. they weren't trapped in the same way bumbleby were. it was cas who had to confess his feelings, dean couldn't even though through years and years of their relationship it was obvious how he felt.but he was frozen.

cas never got his "i love you too."

chatgpt: That's a really interesting point. In a way, it feels like Blake and Yang were able to have a more complete closure to their confession of feelings, whereas with Dean and Cas, there was always this unresolved tension and unspoken love between them. And the fact that Dean never got to respond to Cas's confession makes it even more bittersweet. It's like there was always this barrier between them that they could never quite overcome, while with Blake and Yang, they were able to finally break down that barrier and openly acknowledge their love for each other.

me: chat gpt i'm gonna cry over bumbleby and destiel again

chatgpt: It's understandable to feel emotional about these ships. They have touched the hearts of many fans and have become an important part of their lives. It's a testament to the power of storytelling and the impact that well-developed characters and relationships can have on us. Just remember to take care of yourself and your emotions. It's okay to feel sad or overwhelmed sometimes, but also remember to find joy and happiness in other things in your life as well.

[girl4music]

WILLOW and MAGIC and TARA'S DEATH

WILLOW and MAGIC

"Willow's arc also looks promising in the early episodes. 'Same Time, Same Place' got me really excited. Maybe I forgot, I thought. Maybe they handle Willow's issues from Season 6 in a thoughtful drawn out way. 'Same Time, Same Place' does a number of insightful and successful things. It addresses Willow's avoidance of difficult situations and the way she uses magic, even subconsciously, to make that easier. Here magic is as it is at its most consistent. An extension of Willow's emotions. The scene with Willow and Buffy at the end is one of the few acknowledgments of their paralleled stories last season. But after that, Willow's struggle with controlling those around her and quick fixes is replaced with this generic "I lost control and killed someone". And her final scene in 'Chosen' is emblematic of these greater issues. Overcome by grief and on the heels of identity-based behaviour addiction, Willow's hair turns black when she absorbs magic in an attempt to stop feeling. Not only does she absorb magic but she makes a clear distinction between the self she is now and the self she's become and she starts talking in third-person to remove herself from the pain of what's happened. And then in 'Chosen' Willow's hair is white... because white is the opposite of black. She was bad when her hair was black and she's better now... so it's white. Get it? Even though we get no serious explanation as to how or why. And without dealing with the grief or the issue with control and quick fixes. The imagery alone isn't the problem. It's the fact that the imagery is a placeholder for what should have been a proper narrative undertaking. HOW did Willow's perception of magic and how it relates to her anxieties of usefulness change? How did she recontextualize her own helpfulness and even where that desire to be needed even comes from? Did she find other ways to prove her worth? Especially in relation to being Buffy's lieutenant. None of this heavy lifting is done. Imagery is great but it's not a substitute for actual themes it's meant to represent. Willow's main problem isn't that she was a murderer. It was her pathological insecurity, need for control and need to be needed."

TARA'S DEATH

"Tara's death is a big part of last season's debris that is brushed aside. Not only was it the catalyst for Willow's most extreme turn, but she was a big sister to Dawn and a support system for a depressed Buffy. Yes, there are bigger fish to fry. But the fall out from this doesn't feel like a Scooby was lost. The way that Tara's death is dealt (or not dealt) with feels disrespectful to what she would've meant to the team. Grief about her is scrapped and accelerated through. And what should be a significant character opportunity with the traumatic event of the loss of a Scooby becomes a footnote. 'The Killer In Me' is an excellent example of this half-baked execution and I might talk about it on its own at some point. Even though I really don't want to talk negatively just for the sake of it. It appears to be a character study but brings up questions without ever answering them. Think about it - what was the resolution? What was the problem solved by the end? In this episode Willow's grief is finally spoken of directly and how it relates to her hesitancy to use magic. Then in the last minutes of the episode Willow finally addresses her guilt, feeling like she's somehow responsible for what happened to Tara and that by even considering the possibility of moving on, feels like she's betrayed her. And she completely breaks down. And then as a solution, Kennedy kisses her. And it's over. And this is never spoken of again. The episode is so confused. It digs at an emotional truth, uncovers it and then rather than tackle it narratively cuts to credits. It feels like a slow chug-chug-chug to the top of a rollercoaster that has no descent. Why did you build this?"

This is an instant like because you said the way I feel about Season 7 precisely. Every issue I have with it you explained coherently and concisely. It could have been so good. And it just isn’t.

[splendentgoddess]

I’m still alive!

Hey everyone. Just checking in to let you all know that I’m alive and well but life has just been AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! lately. 😂

After almost being roasted alive this last summer and each summer for the last few years just continually getting worse and worse (what climate change?) my husband and I have finally decided to move back home to the HIGH desert, rather than the LOW desert where we currently live. Huge, huge difference in summer temps, even when it’s not that significant a difference on paper, because 108F/42.2C is a hell of a lot better than 118F/47.7C, plus it cools off at night there because of the high elevation and cool mountain winds. It’s one of those deserts where as soon as the sun drops, the temperature drops along with it. Not here, where we just simmer in a bowl all night long. I’m tired of the nighttime LOW being in the low 90sF/32.2-33.8C. 

Ugh.

Not to mention it’s like the never ending summer every year, still hot as balls well into the first half of October, at least. It only just now FINALLY feels like autumn here, whereas up in the high desert it cools off seasonally a lot sooner. And they have proper winters there. I miss the winter. 

🎵I miss the winter. A world of fragile things. Look for me in the white forest, hiding in a hollow tree. (Come and find me.)🎵

Here in southern California’s low desert we only sort of have summer and not-summer. There’s an autumn/spring blend where it’s blessedly cool enough to wear sweaters/jumpers without roasting to death, and then far too soon it starts to warm back up again. In February we’re already saying with foreboding “Summer is coming.” But I was willing to put up with it if he was, but my husband is actually a lot more heat sensitive than I am and was genuinely ill multiple times this last summer. With the drastic increase in humidity lately the evaporative cooler also no longer works well, either, so we’d be holed up in the bedroom with the small a/c going while even the kitchen and living room inside our own house was like 90F/32.2C, while the outside temps were over 120F/48.8C.

So we decided we had to get the fuck out, and now for the REALLY good news! My wonderful, loving, absolutely has always been there for us mother, and her current husband, have invited us to come move in with them. Rent. Free. They’re elderly, he’s sickly, it’s a HUGE 4bd house she’s been struggling to take care of all by her lonesome, so we’re going to earn our keep by taking over the basic normal day-to-day household chores (not even like cooking because she loves to cook but I just mean like cleaning, and taking care of weeds in the yard, etc.) and also we won’t be a burden on them financially because we’ll be selling our current home and so will have money in the bank (it’s just a mobile home so it’s not like we’ll be rolling in dough but at least it’s something), plus we’re still going to work a little bit to earn enough money to pay our few remaining bills like car insurance and cellphones, and buy our own food, etc. My husband is a self-employed housekeeper (I made him business cards that say Man Maid, hahaha) and he’s going to keep a handful of his best clients that really don’t want to see him go, and we’ll commute out here bi-weekly since it’s only a two-hour drive, and I will be helping him so he’s not killing himself doing it all by himself anymore. 

I GET TO QUIT MY RETAIL JOB!!! I’m so excited! Hashtag Living The Dream. We’re going to be semi-retired and only working a couple days every two weeks and the rest of the time, guess what? I WILL FINALLY GET TO WORK ON ALL MY WRITING (and reading) THAT I HAVEN’T HAD THE TIME FOR. 

*happy dance* 

So yeah, everyone just hang in there, and I hope to soon be a MUCH bigger presence in the fandom again. Our house goes on the market in only a few days. We busted our asses this last month to get it presentable, LOL. I didn’t even really get to enjoy Spooky Season because I was too busy with cleaning the house and packing on my days off, but that’s okay because it’s not like we would’ve gone to go do anything, anyway, since there’s still a fucking plague.

[indelibletraces]

Chicago PD 10x9 “Proof of Burden”

Random thoughts:

I like that there is no dialogue between Voight and the Chief when he first arrives. I get the sense that Voight hates that he is having to put his friend through this and that nothing he says will make it better. As for the Chief, his reluctance to be there is clearly written on his face. It’s almost like he hopes if he doesn’t say anything none of this will be real. He even stops at one point as they walk to the bunker.

Torres’ winter wear - a long sleeve white shirt! I love that the writers are continuing with Torres and his “plain white Ts” even in winter. I know he has worn dark jackets in a couple of episodes, but after less than half a season he has become so synonymous with the white shirt that when he does finally wear patterns or something else it better have some significant meaning behind it.

Loved the scene in Voight’s office. It was great to see Hank explode with emotion; something we haven’t seen a lot of this season, and Jason Beghe is great at portraying those explosive, raw moments. Despite all he did to protect Justin and his mistakes, he knows that there are some things that are truly unforgivable and he can’t understand how O’Neil can keep trying to deny that there is something wrong with his son.

It was interesting to watch the parallel scenes between Voight/O’Neil and Hailey/Sean play out against each other. In their last ditch efforts to make the case Voight and Hailey each go to the person they understand most in this situation. Voight tries to get O’Neil to quit burying his head in the sand and actually look at what Sean has done square in the face. Hailey tries to appeal to the decency that she thinks is still inside Sean - the decency she hopes is still inside herself?

It was great to have Voight calmly calling Hailey out: “So you want to do that now? Make cases any way you can.” He saw what the Roy situation did to Hailey and yet here she is again willing to go down the same unscrupulous path she did with Darius Walker. Is her fixation on this case just simply a result of Jay leaving or are the writers trying to make us think that this a pattern of her brokenness from her childhood?

I thought it was really smart to use all the obstacles Hailey has to break through and climb over to get to the truck as a literal manifestation of the figurative hurdles she has had to overcome these past weeks while trying to find the missing girls. The fact that her radio doesn’t work and she has to do it all on her own to me represents how alone and abandoned she’s felt since Jay left. But then Voight shows up and helps her get through the last gate - she is not alone in her struggles with this case or in her personal life. She has the team to support her if she will let them. Even with Voight’s help it was a struggle for them both to get through the gate - even with support Hailey’s journey back to stability in her personal life will have its challenges.

Side note: Running in the warehouse and manipulating that gate is the most physical exertion we’ve seen Hank go through this season, and I thought it was a lot of fun to watch. However, I’ve read in interviews that Jason Beghe is not a fan of running, so during this scene I kept thinking “I bet he’s hating this.” 😊

This episode had some amazing scenes with Hank and Hailey, but the best was the one in the Chief’s house. By calling in the emergency over Hailey’s objection, Voight is trying to save Hailey from a decision that he knows she will come to regret. He repeatedly keeps calling to her to help him save Sean - it’s like he has to break through the fog that is clouding her judgement. When she does eventually help there is a noticeable softening of her face from the hardened expression she wore while just standing there watching Sean die. Hailey doesn’t say anything in the final scene at the hospital and to me she appears conflicted as she watches them work on Sean - is she conflicted about what she feels or by what she thinks she should feel? Especially when the doctor tells them that they saved his life. What are her feelings toward Voight going to be saving Sean’s life? It’s going to be so hard to wait 4 weeks til the next episode!

The hospital scene was excellent in the way it called back to the season 9 finale and the season 10 premiere. As soon as they entered the hospital I immediately noticed the blood stain on Voight’s shirt right where his gunshot wound is. This was exactly like when he carried the little boy into the ER in the premiere. I loved the reminder that physically and emotionally he still has not healed from Anna’s death. He almost seems to be having a flashback as he watches the monitor and Sean being shocked; the same things he watched when Anna was in the same position.

I have loved the first half of this season and can’t wait to see what they have in store for the rest of the season!

[chuckaf]

“Off the record, it’s about damn time.”

[ffamranxii]

HAIKYUU!! COUPLES HEADCANONS

DAISUGA

-Daichi goes to the gym to work out. Suga goes to the gym to ogle Daichi

-Suga has a massive sweet tooth

-Daichi cooks, Suga cleans

-Suga is a little shit who is not above seducing Daichi in public. He can say the most lewd things without batting an eye while Daichi blushes furiously

-Daichi and Kuroo once hooked up at training camp. They do not talk about it

-Daichi is good friends with Michimiya and Kiyoko. Suga is closer to Asahi

-Daisuga rarely fight and are often asked for relationship advice. Daichi tries to discourage this because “guys I didn’t realize Yui had a crush on me or that Suga was in love with me for three years.”

-Daichi can’t dance, won’t dance, and refuses to acknowledge the time he got trashed and twerked

-Suga dislikes his given name unless it’s said by Daichi, who is the only person allowed to call him Koushi

-Suga is extremely flexible. Daichi is not.

-Daichi or Suga getting hit on makes Daichi uncomfortable. Getting hit on amuses Suga, and Daichi getting hit on makes him horny

-It took all of high school for Daisuga to get together, because Daichi is oblivious and Suga assumed Daichi wasn’t into him. Daichi’s dumbness and their mutual pining becomes a fond, shared joke several years later

-Daichi has no gag reflex. 

-Daisuga have a very fat, very orange cat named Ninja. He’s surprisingly fast and agile despite looking like a furry basketball. (Daichi is a dog person and did not even want Ninja at first. He suspects Kuroo had something to do with this. Suga sometimes playfully gets upset because “Ninja likes you better than me, Dai!”)

-Everyone expects Suga to be the dominant one but Suga is more than willing to be submissive for Daichi and has on several occasions

ASANOYA

-Noya gets up before sunrise to run. Asahi would rather die than leave his bed before 8am

-Noya turns the coffee pot on and cooks breakfast to lure Asahi out of bed

-Noya is surprisingly patient, gentle, quiet, and kind when it comes to Asahi and his insecurities

-Noya is the type to bottle his insecurities and fears until they explode. The only one who can calm him back down is Asahi

-Asahi makes bratty faces when he thinks Noya isn’t looking

-Noya and Tanaka spend a lot of time with Daisuga because of the Daichi&Suga&Asahi&Kiyoko friendship. Asahi and Ennoshita become good friends

-Asahi doesn’t understand the distance between Noya and his sisters because Asahi is very close to his

-It is impossible to embarrass Noya

-Asahi gets a lot of inspiration for his fashion designs from traveling with Noya

-Noya knows how to braid hair and likes to play with Asahi’s

-Asahi enjoys physical affection but dislikes overt PDA. Noya would happily climb Asahi like a tree in public if Asahi would let him

-Only Asahi calls Noya by his given name

-Noya knows he likes Asahi early on but Asahi’s panic (“omg someone LIKES me?? NOYA likes me?? My crush??”) at his confession prevent them getting together until after the Date Tech match (after Asahi rejoins the team).

-Noya is affected by wanderlust and that’s why he travels. Sometimes Asahi joins him. They get married in Canada during one of these trips. (I once read a fantastic asanoya fic where a significant event happened in Canada so Canada is my asanoya place now)

-Noya sends Asahi a postcard from every place he’s ever visited. Sometimes he’ll spend over half an hour trying to find the *best* one, only to buy them all and send them as a sort of big long letter. Asahi saves them all in a photo album that lives on the coffee table. (Some people have a coffee table book, Asahi has a photo album.)

-Noya prefers to top. The one thing he’s really uncomfortable with is being on the bottom (physically laying beneath someone and also sex).

KUROKEN

-Kuroken have a black cat and a calico and enjoy naps on the couch with the kitties. Kuroo has SO MANY pictures in his phone of Kenma curled around the kitties.

-Kuroo: “Love you.” Kenma: “Hate you.”

-Kenma CAN cook, but likes that Kuroo likes taking care of him

-Every game Kuroo has ever owned is multiplayer because he only games with Kenma

-Kenma’s favorite games involve critical thinking and puzzles. Kuroo enjoys watching him play

-Kuroo is an introvert masquerading as an extrovert. Kenma is an introvert. They enjoy quiet nights in.

-Kuroo has anxiety. Kenma always knows when Kuroo is anxious and how to fix it

-People make Kenma anxious. Kuroo makes himself anxious.

-Kenma’s nicknames for Kuroo are Kuro and Koroemon. Kuroo calls Kenma Kyanma and kitten

-Kuroo has been in love with Kenma for as long as he can remember, since they were kids. Kenma knows this, but doesn’t understand he feels the same way until Kuroo goes off to college

-Kuroo is the one who discovered Daichi’s lack of gag reflex. He’s delighted to learn that Kenma lacks one as well

-Kenma moves more slowly than Kuroo. He’s not as comfortable with physical affection and sex as Kuroo is. Their relationship progresses slowly, and Kuroo lets Kenma lead. 

-After Kenma’s confession, how he feels about Kuroo is one of the very few things Kuroo does not doubt or make himself anxious over.

-Kuroo can, will, and has go(ne) on and on and ON about Kenma until someone shuts him up. It drives Yaku up the fucking wall in high school.

-Kenma does a retro game stream once or twice a month made up of games he and Kuroo used to play as kids. Kuroo actually games with him on those days and Kenma’s followers are quick to notice and speculate because Kenma has literally never gamed with another person in the same room before. Sometimes Kenma can only post the actual gameplay because Kuroo ruined the footage of them by being excessively sappy. (Kuroo is NOT above flirting and dirty talk to get an edge and Kenma doesn’t really think his fans need to know that.)

-Kuroken do not talk about Kuroo’s mom or sister

-The Kozumes love “Tetsu-chan” and Kuroo’s grandparents adore Kenma. Kuroken get along with each other’s families better than they do their own.

-Kuroo is tactile. He’s that ass-slapping friend. Kenma thinks he’s ridiculous

-Kuroo used to be dislike Hinata, because Kenma and Hinata are extremely good friends and Kuroo was afraid Hinata would take Kenma away from him. Kenma has assured him he doesn’t like Hinata like that but Kuroo doesn’t warm up until Hinata starts dating Kageyama

BOKUAKA

-Akaashi is 100% in charge of the house and the financials and his word is law. Not because he’s an asshole but because Bokuto is whipped

-Akaashi is a screamer. Bokuto has a big dick.

-Bokuto is the calmest between him and his sisters. His sisters have formed an Akaashi fanclub

-Bokuaka kiss a lot during sex

-Bokuto fucking loves owls

-Akaashi used to be embarrassed over being a manga editor but Bokuto thinks it’s the coolest job ever, “even better than mine!” When his authors need references, Akaashi sends them pictures of Bokuto. Bokuto takes this responsibility very seriously

-Bokuaka exclusively refer to each other by first name but Akaashi can’t break the habit of using -san

-Akaashi and Kenma are very good friends. Bokuto thinks they might even be better bros than him and Kuroo. (Kenma is one of the few people Akaashi calls by first name, and one of the only people who calls Akaashi by his.)

-Akaashi overthinks as a result of anxiety, but he doesn’t think he has anxiety. He prefers to call it “seeing the issue from all sides”

-Akaashi and Bokuto do yoga together. Bokuto behaves himself surprisingly well around Akaashi in yoga pants

-Akaashi decided to attend Fukurodani after watching Bokuto play and literally for no other reason

-Bokuaka are the embodiment of love at first sight and their relationship has an unreal, almost storybook quality to it because they are literally perfect for each other. Because of this, Bokuto doesn’t understand why other people struggle so much to start and maintain a relationship, no matter how many times Kuroo tells him “just because your relationship is straight out of a movie doesn’t mean the rest of the world works like that”

-Bokuaka have a koi pond in their backyard and have named all the fish. Bokuto always asks about them when he’s away for games

IWAOI

-Iwaizumi cooks and cleans because he’s always been the one taking care of Oikawa, but he refuses to fold the laundry because “I’m not doing everything for you, you fucking freeloader”

-Iwaizumi cooks healthy “old man food.” Oikawa’s sweet tooth suffers

-Oikawa is that guy who puts more cream and sugar and other additives in his coffee than actual coffee. He’s tried all of Starbucks’ seasonal drinks and never gets the same thing twice

-Iwaoi have very heated arguments about if Godzilla can kick King Kong’s ass or not. Iwaizumi of course sides with Godzilla

-Iwaoi once fought about the original purpose of Stonehenge and now no one can mention England without it coming back up

-Oikawa only became comfortable with his glasses because Iwaizumi likes them

-Iwaoi have been friends since they were in diapers. The whole volleyball team took bets on when they’d announce their relationship

-Both the Oikawas and the Iwaizumis respond when either boy calls for mom or dad. Oikawa calls his sister Nee-chan while Iwaizumi says Oneesan

-Iwaizumi’s favorite of Oikawa’s features is his legs. Oikawa is in love with Iwa’s arms

-Neither of them can remember when they started liking each other or how their relationship started

-Iwaoi are shockingly codependent and do NOT do separation (during university in Argentina/California or for away games) well

-Deep down Oikawa is extremely insecure and worries he isn’t enough - in volleyball, in school, in his family, in his relationship. Iwaizumi always knows when he’s putting on a front and how to cheer him back up

-Iwaizumi is secretly so soft and weak for Oikawa

-After the Olympics Iwaizumi moves to Argentina to be with Oikawa and they get married. They move back to Japan after Oikawa retires from volleyball and after gay marriage becomes legal there

-Oikawa keeps various plants around the house and the patio and is extremely proud of them. He paints all their pots and even names some of them (which Iwaizumi thinks is disgustingly cute). His most prized plant is a lucky bamboo he bought on a whim when iwaoi first moved in together.

-Oikawa can’t deepthroat. It makes him so jealous that Iwaizumi can

-Iwaizumi blushes whenever Oikawa gives him a genuine compliment

-Iwaizumi has a praise kink. Oikawa has a “whatever comes out of Iwa’s mouth” kink

-Iwaizumi has dom tendencies.

[e-wills-afterhours]

Unfinished

The rain started early that year—the icy sort of deluge that soaked through the skin to freeze the blood and sinew beneath it. Everything seemed wet, smelled wet; with a damp, earthiness that could be pleasant were it not so miserably cold. Winter was drawing ever closer. As the leaves changed, the birds migrated, and the game grew scarcer. The distant peaks behind the village, and the towering sea stacks before it, were obscured by the fog that settled in at summer’s end. Grass became dirt, which became persistent mud.

Berk was beginning its long slumber, but its Viking inhabitants still had more life left in them before the archipelago’s harsh winter came, forcing everyone indoors for most of the season. At its worst, the weather halted fishing expeditions, hunting parties, and all major construction projects. Trade would cease for as long as there were ice floes to keep ships at bay. Only the stubbornest Vikings would be found out and about when they had no need to be.

But that was weeks away yet. Mabon had just concluded and the last of the decorations were coming down. It was a quick turnaround between the minor festival and the much larger, significant Vetrnaetr.

A slight mist was a welcome break from the heavy rain of the early morning. Hiccup and Astrid chanced being outside, though there was a new band of dark clouds rolling in from the sea. The wind was picking up, but they walked close together, flanked by their dragons; and that offered some protection.

“Fishlegs says Gobber’s calling it ‘scale rot’, or something like that. Have you ever heard of it?” Astrid asked, inching closer to Hiccup as they trudged through the mud. She shivered, and they bumped shoulders, mud squelching beneath their feet.

Hiccup winced. Any other surface but dry, solid ground was a struggle for him. The mud gripped his prosthesis, and it took more effort to pull it free with each step. He didn’t complain though—he rarely ever did—but his uneven gait and unsteady pace were obvious; it had to be uncomfortable, at the very least, regardless of what he did or didn’t say about it.

He answered, “No, but I don’t pretend to know everything about dragon ailments.”

Astrid stopped in her tracks, playing it off as dramatic effect while giving him a moment to catch up. “Well, that’s a shocker.”

Hiccup laughed. “Hey now…”

She grinned, taking his hand to help him along, though she’d deny it if he asked; and she knew he never would.

“Seriously, though—that’s got to be half the dragons that have it,” she sighed.

A couple nights had passed since she ventured into the stables. She saw numerous beasts lying on the damp floor of their stalls with red, inflamed scale margins. The disease spread along their underbellies like a terrible rash. She felt itchy just looking at it, and checked Stormfly over at once, pleased that her Nadder did not appear to be afflicted.

“Well, did Fishlegs say what causes it?” Hiccup asked, brow furrowed.

Astrid shook her head. “He’s pretty distraught. Poor Meatlug’s miserable.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Hiccup’s fingers curled tighter around her own. Even such a subtle gesture cut through the solemnity of their conversation.

He replied, “I don’t blame him. “Thankfully Toothless is in good health—aren’t you, bud?”

He stopped and turned toward his dragon, releasing Astrid’s hand to stroke both sides of the Night Fury’s wide jaw. She tried not to feel too disappointed. After all, there was no relationship with either of them where the dragons were not included. She accepted it, just like Hiccup was more than accepting of her dedication to Stormfly. There simply was no Hiccup without Toothless. When the Night Fury warbled, he smiled; and that smile was only reserved for the dragon, in whatever supernatural connection they shared.

She reached up and curled her arm around Stormfly’s neck, and the Nadder leaned into her. After all, she cared for her own dragon as much as Hiccup cared for Toothless—maybe.

Was such a thing even possible?

“I’d be beside myself if Stormfly was sick,” she told him.

Hiccup nodded, musing aloud more to himself than to her, “Maybe we can go down there tomorrow; see if we can figure out why the dragons are getting this ‘scale rot’ thing?”

“Mhm. Sounds like a plan. Right after my morning chores,” she replied. When Hiccup made a face, she joked, “Yes. Chores, Hiccup. Normal people have those.” She waved a flippant hand. “I mean, I know you’re exempt, being the son of the Chief and the Hero of Berk, and all that.”

Hiccup snorted. “What?” He turned back toward her, face flat. “Okay, no. First off, I’m not.”

“The son of the Chief?” Astrid suggested, finding great humor in his mounting exasperation.

“The Hero of Berk,” he corrected. “No. No, stop laughing—I am not.” A grin leaked through his would-be serious visage. “Secondly, I do have chores.”

She lightly elbowed him; she had to remember he was not particularly fond of typical Viking affection.

“Okay, flying Toothless doesn’t count.”

Hiccup was laughing then. “Astrid—"

But Thor saw fit to interrupt their conversation. The distant clouds had moved in above them, letting loose with an angry and urgent hailstorm. Several expletives rang out as their fellow tribesmen abandoned their tasks to run for cover. Their dragons seem to add their own colorful language as they extended their wings to protect their riders with roars of protest.

“Odin’s balls!” Astrid shouted over the roar of the hail.

“This way!” Hiccup replied, taking off before she had a chance to collect herself.

There was once a time he may have tried to lead her by the hand, thinking he was being noble. Now, he knew better than to try—at least until her agency was firmly embedded in his mind.

She followed under the canopy of Stormfly’s wings, letting her dragon guide her as she kept her head down—just on the off-chance Thor wanted to be particularly ornery with sideways gusts of hail.

Her Nadder followed Toothless right a storehouse—where the morning’s catch was hanging up, salted, waiting for the right weather conditions to be set out to dry. Astrid glanced up at the wide-eyed, slack-jaw cod, dangling with the barely perceptible sway of disturbed air currents.

“Nice!” she teased, still raising her voice above the torrent outside.

Hiccup swatted Toothless and shook his head, discouraging the dragon from eating any fish. The Night Fury sulked.

“I didn’t exactly have the time to scope out our accommodations, Milady!” he shouted back; the hail fell with increasing velocity.

Astrid smirked and settled into a corner, watching Hiccup look over Toothless’s wings for injuries. How gentle and concerned he was. And to think Hiccup was sometimes privately critical of the way Fishlegs doted on Meatlug.

There was a time when it just about drove her crazy. She had wondered once who he was apart from dragons.

In the first few days after the mayhem of the Red Death—before Hiccup had woken up—she had been intoxicated by the excitement of Berk's new dragon-friendly ways, and the awe over what the former village screw-up had done. Her admiration of him was immediate but short-lived. She had placed him on a pedestal back then, much to her embarrassment now—before she took a moment to stop, process it all, and think—and she had kissed him in front of everyone, leaving their relationship as a rather vague and open-ended assumption around Berk.

That had taken some foot-in-mouth conversations with Hiccup, to put them on a sound and level foundation—one on which they had to build a friendship, before any sort of something could emerge from it. The expectant inquires of their parents and friends had not been helpful.

Astrid had to work know Hiccup, and he had to work to know her. It was painfully obvious in those first days that they had only fancied shiny caricatures of each other—albeit Hiccup’s longings had existed for a while, and his fantasies of who he believed her to be were more firmly entrenched and harder to dispel. Reality wasn’t always as appealing; but through mutual respect, a fast friendship, and budding romantic attraction of its own painstaking cultivation, Astrid had come to find that what they had now, at seventeen, was better—much better. And genuine.

She finally knew who Hiccup was, with all his strengths and downright frustrating quirks. Her feelings for him ran deeper than the giddy and naïve infatuation with the first person who came along and dared to be different. Hiccup had, with effort, come to know and appreciate Astrid for who she really was: a separate and unique entity from the girl he had built up in his dreams. That girl was an unrealistic apparition she could never be, that he would never obtain; which hadn’t been fair to either of them.

Two Snoggletogs prior—the first with their dragons—had been the real turning point for them, when they had given up with pretense and fantasies, and were unchained from pedestals. Since those dynamics had clicked in place, their trajectory had been a sharp incline.

“I hope it stops soon,” he told her, limping toward a collection of barrels lined along the adjacent wall.

Astrid moved to help him, but Hiccup found such gestures every bit as infantilizing as his earlier attempts to treat her delicately had been.

He peeked beneath the lid of the barrels and the pungent stench of death and brine wafted up to meet them. Apparently, the dragons’ share of unsalted fish kept them company as well.

Hiccup replaced the lid with a simple, “Nope.”

He hobbled to a coiled pile of old mooring, sitting down with some difficulty; but just to be off his leg seemed relief enough. Astrid watched intently as he removed his prosthesis. He had recently upgraded it, still unsatisfied with the results. She wasn’t sure exactly what he thought was missing—then again, it was not a struggle with which she could empathize.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he replied without a breath, without looking up, just as he always did. He massaged the stump through his pantleg, and the muscle above it. “I needed to readjust.”

Truth be told, she admired Hiccup for his strength and silent resolve; how he wasn’t self-pitying of what others perceived as just another disadvantage to add to his list. He had laughed it off and once said, “I’m used to physical shortcomings, remember?” But Astrid had not found it quite so funny. She supposed if anyone could make light of somber things, he was particularly adept at that; he had practice. Over the past two years, Astrid had grown defensive of him. She decided it was prerogative as his girlfriend, though his perspective on the matter was best summed up as polite exasperation.

Two years could bring such change. She never expected that she could learn anything about morality and grit from Hiccup Haddock—but he also had developed the knack of proving others wrong about him. Recently, anyway. He was pleasant to be around—smart, witty, insightful—when he stopped trying to be someone he wasn’t. They had wasted years steeped in ignorance about one another: he wasn’t that insufferable, and she wasn’t that unapproachable. She appreciated the honesty and ease to their relationship now; it was comfortable and ripe for something she couldn’t yet articulate.

She crossed the short distance between them. The beating hail silenced her footfalls, and Hiccup didn’t notice she had moved until she was standing right in front of him. She heard the soft click of his prosthetic locking into place; his newest design didn’t require as many cumbersome fastenings.

His glanced up, merely curious. She didn’t make him jumpy anymore.

Without a word, she extended a hand. He took it and rose to his feet. Somehow, he had surpassed her by six inches. The height difference was most noticeable in the rare moments they stood so close to one another. But such moments were few and far between—at least in a manner where the air felt so charged.

At first, Astrid assumed Hiccup was maintaining appropriate distance between them out of respect and good manners, though he had not historically shown much concern for boundaries and propriety in almost every other regard—befriending a dragon being the most glaring example. But Astrid had begun to realize such proximity was a dangerous thing in recent weeks. More frequently, she was noticing Hiccup in the same ways she was certain he had noticed her for a while. She understood now that he was apprehensive. Something more powerful than common sense was at work on them.

He released her hand but didn’t step away. Their combined body heat turned the icy veneer on their skins to something warm and inviting. Astrid noticed the rate of his breathing: how it had quickened and almost synchronized with her own. She gazed up into that familiar face, growing ever stranger with each bit of childhood he shed; but it was a good kind of strange—a welcomed sort of different. He was making her feel things and have wants; the likes of which she had never felt and had been known to scoff at on occasion.

She wanted more where simple chaste kisses would no longer suffice.

“Is there any particular reason we’re standing this close, staring awkwardly at one another in total silence?” Hiccup asked, grinning.

Astrid blinked, giving herself a mental shake. She had been leaning in, eyes half-lidded, as her thoughts physically manifested themselves. A hot embarrassment prickled across her cheeks, but Hiccup didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

Trying to maintain some sort of face, she replied, “Shut up. I want to kiss you, dingus.”

She didn’t need to speak quite so loudly anymore. The hailstorm outside was lifting and for once, she wanted it to persist.

Hiccup quirked an eyebrow. And it was adorable enough to make matters worse. “Since when have you ever needed express permission to kiss m—?”

Astrid grasped him by the tunic, pulling him down to meet her as she rocked up on her toes. Their lips collided. Hiccup stiffened in surprise, and they teetered on the spot. Quickly, his hands found her waist, steadying them both—and he seemed frozen, like he expected the kiss to end as abruptly as all the others. But Astrid just closed her eyes, tilting her head to better match the contours of his mouth.

It felt good to finally scratch the itch.

She felt as though she had swallowed a dozen butterflies, all fighting to escape her stomach—but they were creatures of elation, with only a hint of self-doubt; not enough to deter her from savoring the touch and texture of her boyfriend’s lips beyond what a simple peck could satisfy. The kiss was slow, warm, and meandering. she took advantage of every moment she had to trace the shape of his mouth, and relish in the delight of him kissing back.

Hiccup reciprocated, albeit with palpable hesitation and unsure movements, refusing to deepen the kiss any further than what she allowed. He was passive. With gentle hands, he pulled her into him, doing nothing more than mirroring her own actions back to her. When she opened her mouth to drink him in, he did as well. As she brushed her lips over his, he waited for his opportunity to respond in kind. He was, from what she could tell, pleasantly receptive.

Astrid could feel his heart beating furiously against her chest where they pressed together, blending with the enthusiasm rattling within her own body—to the point where their pulses were just about indistinguishable. She had never been so invested in a single kiss, noting the taste and sensations of Hiccup’s mouth, mingled with the flavor of the early morning rain that clung to his upper lip.

The kiss was, in a word: hot. It was the first of its kind that they had shared. Hiccup was uncertain only in how aggressive he could be, and if Astrid didn’t set up boundaries, he had no sense of direction. Where could he take it, and where could he not? So, she had to succumb to reason—to those stern hands telling her to slow down, pull back, don’t rush, not yet, wait.

If she didn’t have a stopping point, was it fair to assume Hiccup did?

Better judgment screamed at her until she relented and broke away, though she hated to do it. Their lips parted with a soft sound, and he chased her for a fraction of an inch before he realized the kiss had ended. His eyes slowly opened from half-lidded, and she felt equally as intoxicated as he looked. They were still so close; and the cold, damp atmosphere could only intrude so much in the very cozy space they had created.

The corners of Hiccup’s lips twitched with the threat of a smile, but happy bemusement won out over giddiness.

“Why did you—? Wow.” He was breathless.

“Is that a good ‘wow’ or a bad ‘wow’?” Astrid murmured, regretting how insecure the words sounded as soon as she had uttered them. She folded her arms and they bumped his chest.

“It’s only bad if that’s the that’s the only one of those I get.”

Astrid snorted and they both started laughing, holding each other loosely while they touched foreheads, awash in the heady undertow of their nearness.

“I think the hail’s stopped,” Hiccup murmured. “It was a quick one.”

Indeed, the only rumbling that could be heard was their dragons’ combined breathing. Voices had returned to the village, emerging from their hiding places; which felt like miles away from inside their respite of hanging fish and musty rope.

“Mm. No rush though, right? Probably still wet as Hel out there,” Astrid whispered, leaning into him.

Hiccup grinned in anticipation. The tips of their noses brushed, and eyelids grew heavy again as their lips aligned.

Astrid could feel the warmth of his breath on her face—could practically taste him in the space between them…

“Wait. Wet?” Hiccup blurted out.

He abruptly turned away, face hardened in deep thought. Astrid mouth collided with his jaw, awkward and clumsy.

“Wha—?” She recoiled and snapped, “Hiccup!”

He turned back, gripping her by the shoulders and stooping a little so that they were level—she hated that he had to do that now. His eyes were wide and his face alight with that same boyish excitement that overcame him when anything had to do with—

“The dragons!” he exclaimed. “Astrid, that’s it!”

“What’s ‘it’?” she asked, admittedly intrigued, but plenty exasperated.

She rolled her eyes. He had already sidled past her for the door, followed by Toothless who was keeping pace with his rider’s hurried steps. Hiccup was speaking animatedly the entire time, but Astrid only caught a few words; she wasn’t really listening.

Her boyfriend could be frustrating, yes; distracted and preoccupied with his own interests above more pressing manners—but there was a draw to him: some sort of radiance that was either his sheer passion for things or the good heart he had, even if his methods were a little ill-advised at times.

He barely paused for a breath. “…And it’s just been raining so much—of course that has something to do with the scale rot! The dragons don’t typically nest in wet places. I can’t believe it took me so long to—oh, Thordammit.”

Hiccup glared down at his prothesis snared by the mud, as if the climate on Berk was a personal affront.

Astrid shook her head. “Hey, you!” she called, lingering in the storehouse for a moment; she peered at him through the open door, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied. Then he paused for a beat before resuming, “I really should tell Fishlegs. And Gobber. If we can be sure it’s the copious rainfall, maybe there’s an actual remedy…”

He carried on and Astrid followed along, stifling her amusement and nodding at appropriate intervals.

She hated unfinished business, after all—and he still owed her that second kiss.

[krsonmar]

When we talk about the body-positive portrayals of beauty in this show, (unless I just haven't read enough of what's posted under the tag) I feel like we don't talk enough about Nadja's beauty, or rather the particular style of it. I've always been, for no particular reason, pretty modest in how I dress and act (although I love dropping dirty innuendos and seeing how creative I can get with them, cackle cackle), and so people tend to think I'm not sex-positive. I am, and I have to immediately explain to them, no, I didn't have a religious upbringing, no, I'm not "ashamed" or "afraid" of sexuality, my own or anyone else's, no, I haven't "had a bad experience"...because people have a really hard time understanding when I say "You do you, I'll do my thing my way, I'll respect you if you respect me, now go have fun". People have a really hard time with wanting to get to any kind of level of intimacy with anyone before introducing sex into things--whether that's a romantic relationship or friendships where I'm comfortable making a dirty joke in front of someone--because something something American Puritanical influence seeping into everything something something dichotomous thinking blah blah blah. People really struggle with the idea of being sexual without being very overt about it. And "being sexual" or sexy as a woman has meant, for a long time in American culture, showing a lot of skin. I was in the car with my mother a couple years ago with the 70's music channel on and the DJ was talking about how it used to be possible to be attractive and even sexy without being barely-clothed. And to be clear, I'm okay with that type of sex appeal, I just wish it weren't the only type available anymore. So I flipping love Nadja's costumes. She's sleeping around left and right and seducing men and occasionally women and she's been married to a guy who still finds her attractive after what, 500 years? People on here refer to her as their wife and both want her AS WELL AS wanting to be her. And half of it is the love of her costumes! Like yes, she's a girlboss and keeps the others in line and Natasia Demetriou has flipping great comedic timing and the facial expressions omg, like there's a lot to love in this character, but the costumes are a significant part of her appeal. And they're mostly very covered-up outfits. The high necks and long sleeves and floor-length gowns and the puffy skirts and multiple layers! Apparently the wardrobeing department eased up on the corsets after season one because they were uncomfortable to be in for as long as a day of shooting can take, but I'm trying to remember instances outside of the season 3 finale where the character is even showing any cleavage, because it's rare enough that it's noticeable in that episode (I figure the joke is "haha she's busting out the cleavage for the family portrait for posterity"). It's as if someone said, "You know what? No one is realizing we've created this total sex appeal goal by showing practically no skin...we better make sure they know that's what we're doing!" I get the message loud and clear, fam. I see you, and I am so, so happy to see a sexy, lustful, desirable female character who flaunts a type of sex appeal I don't get to see anymore. Seriously, between Ms. Demetriou herself and the gods who apparently staff the wardrobeing department on this show, SLAY QUEEN(s), SLAY!

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Tommy and the role of ‘hero’

Hey, this little essay is discussing how Tommy’s character has struggled with being called a hero and hows it’s been a significant part of his character arc for Season 2 of the SMP. It’s not a title he ever gave himself yet it’s a title he’s burdened with all the same. 

Funnily enough, I don’t recall Tommy ever being called a hero before Technoblade’s damning speech on Nov 16th, where he compared Tommy to Theseus. 

Tommy you just did a coup. You just did a hostile Government takeover and then immediately instilled yourself as President. And then you gave it to your friend but that’s still a tyrant Tommy.

But the thing about this world Tommy, is that good things don’t happen to heroes. Let me tell you a story Tommy, a story of a man called Theseus. His country, well his City-State technically, was in danger and he sent himself forward into enemy lines. He slayed the Minotaur and saved his city. You know what they did to him Tommy? (”What did they do?”) They exiled him. He died in disgrace, despised by his people. That’s what happens to heroes Tommy. The Greeks knew the score. But if you want to be a hero Tommy, that’s fine. 

Do you want to be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one!

Technoblade’s speech is a frustrating one at first. It begins by essentially calling Tommy a power hungry tyrant despite that being far from the truth - Wilbur was the one who formed the Government and Tommy rejected power. He trusted it to Wilbur who then chose Tubbo. Schlatt wasn’t even killed by Tommy, he died of a heart attack after being abandoned by every one of his allies so it wasn’t even really much of a takeover at all and it wasn’t Tommy. Yet this speech was entirely directed at Tommy.

But the latter half is different, accusing Tommy instead of trying to be a hero who thinks he’s saving the world and that he’s doomed to have a bad end. It’s interesting as never has Tommy claimed to be much of a hero. Tommy’s always just fought for the things he cared about. Indeed his response to Techno’s speech suggests the same.

“I’m not the hero. No one’s the hero! We’ve got L’Manburg for each other.”

But of course, Techno’s words stick with him all the same. Particularly the bit about a tragic end as Tommy becomes very, very aware of his own mortality in the arcs that follow. To Techno, a hero seems to be a naive figure who tries to do good but is destined for failure and tragedy. 

But there’s another path Tommy fears even more. One that he’s witnessed firsthand. Becoming the villain.

Let’s be the bad guys. Tommy, why not? Our nation’s gone. our nation’s far behind us, Tommy. Let’s blow that motherf*cker to smithereens. Tommy, I say if we can’t have Manburg, no one - no one can have Manburg! ...L’Manburg.

This is a new era! We burn the place to the f*ckin ground, I want no crops to grow there ever again.  I want f*ckin mycelium and cobblestone, it all covered, Tommy. I want it all gone! 

Tommy, let’s be villains.

Wilbur was Tommy’s hero. He loved Wilbur dearly and wanted nothing more than to be a good right-hand to him and make him proud. But when they lost L’Manburg and were banished, Tommy saw Wilbur changing, saw him giving up home and deciding he’d rather destroy the thing they’d worked for and blow it all up. After Wilbur made this speech, Tommy argued, making it clear he was entirely against his plans. Even saying that it wasn’t the moral thing to do. He said not to give up hope, that everyone wasn’t against them and that Wilbur’s ideas were reckless. But he stayed with Wilbur and continued to support him, hoping that he could convince him to change his mind. Tommy failed. And Wilbur died.

So, the Tommy at the start of S2 just wants to go back to his old life, a simpler time where he doesn’t have to worry about L’Manburg anymore as it’s in safe hands and he can focus on his personal concerns once more - like his music discs. He doesn’t want to be a hero or a villain, he merely wants to be happy again in a world without Wilbur. 

But there’s someone else watching him. Dream. 

I think it’s no coincidence that Dream wanted Tommy exiled by his own people. I think he was deliberately trying to make Techno’s speech into a reality. Dream had become rather obsessed with Tommy and treated all their interactions like a fun game where he played the villain and Tommy, the hero. It’s not a narrative Tommy himself liked but all he could do was play along. 

Dream had him exiled and this seriously pushed Tommy to his limits. On the first day, Techno briefly visited and asked him why he was still trying and he answered that he always gets back up and he would keep on fighting Dream. But as his exile progressed he slowly lost his will to fight. Slowly Tommy stopped believing that his exile would ever come to an end and that people still cared. 

In exile Tommy had a lot of time for reflection. Here’s something Tommy says days into his exile when he’s begun to lose all hope and is starting to accept that maybe Dream’s his only friend. 

Everyone always tells me I was the- the hero of this server. The one that came and f*ckin fought Dream - the only one that ever spoke back to him. But maybe I was just... maybe this was just meant to be. 

Tommy’s got complicated feelings about being a hero. To him it means standing up to Dream, never giving up - that’s what he believed people expected of him. But in his exile, he began to give in to Dream. He begins to express how no one cares and that the only reason they ever pretended to care was when he had status - when he was part of L’Manburg. There’s this implication that he felt like people only cared about him when he was being the selfless hero. When he was trying to be selfish for once, causing trouble like he used to and wanting to focus on his personal disc war rather than on L’Manburg, he got exiled. (Of course, this is Tommy’s biased perspective not how others actually viewed him.)

Tommy eventually escaped his exile, finding renewed courage to fight against Dream. Except, he’s still scared and uncertain and feels confused about Dream. He feels lost and clings onto Technoblade for support. 

With Technoblade, Tommy starts to feel more like himself - but Techno also influences Tommy, turning him more against his friends. (I think Techno’s character genuinely thought they didn’t truly care about Tommy, likely not realising how much they had also been manipulated by Dream.) Technoblade gently encourages Tommy to be more violent and wants him to help blow up L’Manburg. 

This is where Tommy’s fear about becoming more like Wilbur come into play. Tommy did not want to become a bad guy - he’d had nightmares about it even. But in his time with Technoblade, after how helpless he’d been during his exile, being given some power lead Tommy to start lashing out more violently, he began to get more aggressive - alarmingly so even. Technoblade’s path was one of revenge, dealing with his own pain by causing others to suffer (for noble goals, fighting corruption etc I don’t want to get sidetracked though this is about Tommy). Technoblade’s presence was helpful to Tommy, helping him to get over much of his fear but he still lacked in agency and still felt lonely knowing he hadn’t made up with his friends.

Tommy finally came to his senses at the festival, where he realised he was fighting his best friend and putting his personal attachments - his discs - over Tubbo. And that was wrong. He realised he was becoming just the sort of person he didn’t want to be - he had been on the path to becoming like Wilbur. And he rejected that path. He wasn’t going to be a bad guy. Just because he was hurt didn’t justify hurting others. So he reconciled and once more committed to protecting L’Manburg, having put his personal desires aside. It seemed like he’d put himself into the role of selfless hero yet again.

And he failed. Again. 

Dream tells him how it was a fun game to him. And how their story was not over. Tommy though, had become extremely tired of it. He didn’t want to play Dream’s game. 

They meet up again. And again, Dream talks to Tommy like he’s important - like he’s the key to everything. He wants Tommy to play the role of hero and has been manipulating events for a long time to keep pushing him, to keep taking things from him. Being a hero, which Dream believes Tommy wants, simply means playing along with Dream’s narrative.

Tommy, you want to be a hero, right? You want to be the hero of the server. And every hero needs an origin story, right? Batman had his parents, Spiderman had uncle Ben, you have Tubbo, right? 

In the end, Tommy refuses to play Dream’s game anymore though. He called for help and got saved by everyone else. Then he killed Dream twice and had him locked away for good.

And once more, Tommy decided to do things for himself again. He decided to live peacefully, working on a project, talking to various people on the server and trying to avoid making waves and getting into any more conflict. It’s a good end.

He rejected Wilbur’s path and he defied Technoblade’s predictions and he didn’t lose his best friend to Dream. And now Tommy’s trying to avoid playing the role of hero anymore. It’s not a title he ever gave himself but one thrust upon him. Yet it’s one he’s keenly aware of. And one that, despite everything, he can fulfil.

Tommy’s arc has been in some respects about defying the expectations of others - but he also can’t help but fight for the things he loves. He realises his troubles were not that his friends didn’t care or that he had to play a role but that his life was being controlled by Dream and now he’s free of that. No longer is he so weighed down by expectations but when there is a sufficiently threatening enemy, he has not lost his determination to challenge it. 

[edwinas]

(I'm the one that answered that ask about Charithra and episode 6 from my sideblog) I didn't get around to listen to the podcast interview yet but regarding some points that Charithra has said, many fans REALLY didn't understand the point about her being treated like a baby to the point where it felt stifling (some were even mocking towards it) but it made perfect sense because in the first real conversation she and Kate have after the almost wedding, Kate makes a comment about how Edwina's innocence has shielded her because she doesn't have to know about the full hardships someone like Kate does or has gone through, and this is specifically what made Kate not want to tell her about her and Anthony because she didn't want to hurt Edwina's feelings, whereas that very decision ended up angering her because she wasn't given the full truth. She's not really given the freedom to make her own choice about her own wedding while knowing everything beforehand and that's obviously the stifling part. And about her being possibly more self-centered, I agree more with your point about Edwina having to make her own sacrifices because sure, while she hasn't had the life Kate has had, Edwina's had to work twice as hard to know how to behave like the perfect potential bride. Everything she does before Anthony and his family is in a way an act she's had to perfect, and considering how she knows about Mary's own scandal in the ton and how they still remember it, her role as the diamond was even more constraining because she had to be perfect in order for society to "forgive" her mother's previous "error". Edwina's reputation and status is in the first half of S2 her only goal in life because she knows she's not just representing herself, but also her family and Kate's own attempt at making her be the best out of all the young ladies. That's why she breaks down in episode 3 when Anthony doesn't propose because up until now she's been told that the way she behaves would guarantee a proposal, but it hasn't, which means she must've made a mistake that she cannot afford. Also, while she may not know about her family being penniless by this point, it's obvious that she understands how significant her goal is in securing a husband because that's what she's been working for for 8 whole years. Also small sidenote: one of the most baffling complaints about Edwina is her not defending Kate from Anthony when she finds out about Dorset in episode 2. Like people went wild saying Edwina doesn't care for Kate because of this but it's literally in the scene that Edwina is struggling with what to do or say because a) she's supposed to be a proper lady and not in any way say anything against a gentleman, especially one of such a high rank because her reputation is still not properly secured, and b) Anthony here still has the bigger advantage because of his status, and exactly how can Edwina fight him over his insult towards Kate when her own title isn't even a sure one, given how Mary's parents disowned her.

All of this, Edwina being infantilised meant she wasn't told crucial info about her own future. It wasn't just her having an easy life and no hardships ever. Like if she hadn't seen Kthony's feelings for each other at the altar, she would have been saddled for life to a man who would never love her and cheat.

Charithra said being the baby was stifling also because Edwina had to be submissive. Being conditioned to be the perfect debutante meant suppressing her true self and holding herself to the highest of standards. Edwina was under tremendous pressure as “the face” of her family and the diamond of the season. Her actions were scrutinised by the ton and she had the chance to change her family’s tarnished reputation or at least take the focus away from Mary’s scandal. As you said, she was raised to believe being perfect led to marriage so not being proposed to meant she wasn’t perfect. So I don’t agree that Edwina cruised through life carefree. 

Charithra’s saying another of Edwina’s shortcomings is her not actively taking part in her family’s affairs but I'm not sure how that would have worked? She was 18 in s2, she wouldn’t have had much of a say as a little girl in regency era when grown women have little agency. Maybe she could have contributed to family discussions or even made Kate feel less alone?

LITERALLY, why was Edwina so criticised?? There were 2 posts reprimanding Anthony who said it. Yep, too much was at stake for Edwina and Kate or maybe Edwina was simply speechless. Not everyone's default is self-righteous rants when a loved one is wronged and Kate is more than capable of defending herself. Doesn’t automatically make Edwina a terrible sister...

(You get the weirdest asks btw. People pointing out bigotry against Charithra because of a podcast that came out two days ago, doesn’t mean they condone racism against Simone?? It’s obvious these fans don’t care about either actress, just that their fave is the most victimised which retroactively “justifies” them harassing the other 😑)

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (v)

word count: 4.6k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of poor parenting and damaged familial relationships

series masterpost: here

a/n: and just like that we're halfway through!!! it's crazy to think about it. however, lots happens in this chapter so buckle up peeps

Soon Magdalene’s feelings are going to get the better of her.

She knows she’s heading down a dangerous path but she can’t help it. Ryan is like a drug she can’t get enough of even though she knows it will hurt her in the long run. Living with him has opened her up to the laid back, intelligent, incredibly funny man he is and Magdalene doesn’t know how she’s ever going to function in her own space ever again. They complement each other like two peas in a pod, and everyone else is starting to catch on to the shift in their relationship.

“When are you going to fess up to Ryan about your feelings?” Bette asks as the two of them sit on the lawn across from the university library. It’s mid October, but the weather is still warm enough that Magdalene eats her lunch outside. Her best friend decided to join her today, no doubt knowing that she’s feeling a little lonely. The Avalanche are in the middle of their season opening road trip and have been gone for nearly five days. Ryan’s condo feels empty without him in it, and Magdalene misses him an unfathomable amount.

“Never, if I can help it,” she replies casually, taking a bite of the turkey wrap that Bette brought her from Barn Owl.

The blonde scoffs. “Fuck off. You have to. What are you going to do when he gets back from Florida and you tackle him as soon as he steps through the door.”

“Caligula will get there first,” Magdalene shrugs. “Those two are thick as thieves.”

Truthfully, Magdalene wasn’t sure what she was going to do. This is the longest they’ve been separated since she moved in and it’s proving to be a harder adjustment than she thought. Magdalene feels a little silly missing him so much – she went nearly twenty-six years without knowing Ryan but now he’s imprinted on her soul for the rest of eternity. Living without him seems impossible.

Bette drops the conversation then, almost as if she knows Magdalene is in her own world thinking about what to do. She mentions the upcoming home opener and her plans to attend with a couple of the other wives and girlfriends. “We’re going out beforehand and you should join us! I really think you’d like most of them.”

The bell in the clock tower rings, signalling the start of another hour, and Magdalene promises she’ll consider the offer as they pack up the picnic and say goodbye. It’s a short walk back to the building she works in, seeing as they were only across the street, but it takes a while for the elevator to come around. Magdalene could have taken the stairs down to the basement but they scare her a lot more than she’d like to admit. Hopefully June won’t mind her being a few minutes late.

Her boss doesn’t look too pleased when Magdalene strolls through the door almost seven minutes later then she should have, but as soon as she tosses the cookie Bette brought her in June’s direction all is forgiven. They work in near silence all afternoon, background noise provided by the small stereo in the corner and their respective grunts of frustration when an image doesn’t digitize properly. The university has finally decided to undertake the massive project of making all their school records available to the public online, and Magdalene and June are in charge of getting all the files ready before sending them to IT for installation into the website. It’s a huge task and is going to take them the better part of a month and a half to finish. Magdalene spends the rest of her work day finishing up a box of graduation records from the 1870s and leaves smelling of very old paper.

On the drive home she considers the invitation Bette extended to her. Magdalene knows she’ll be attending the game, having promised Ryan before he left that she’d be there, but she doesn’t know how to feel about going out for dinner and drink beforehand – especially with people so involved with the team. She isn’t like them, in nearly every sense of the phrase, and doesn’t want people to get the wrong idea. It wouldn’t be fair to Ryan for people to assume they’re together in case he ever does want to bring someone around, but Magdalene can’t help thinking that the speculation wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps it would be the clue that shows him how she feels.

The invite stays in the back of her brain while she heats up leftovers and eats quickly, knowing that Ryan will call soon. He’s like clockwork with his precise game day routine, and he always calls shortly after four o’clock when out east. Magdalene’s phone buzzes from the spot beside her on the couch and she quickly scoops it up and accepts the call.

“Hey,” she says, a little breathless because she’s so excited to talk to him.

“Hey yourself. How was work?” Magdalene can tell Ryan’s got a smile on his face even though she can’t see him. She indulges the question, telling him all about the stuff she digitized and what’s next. Though she always tries to get out of talking about work, fearing it will bore the daylights out of him, Ryan insists on hearing every detail Magdalene wants to share. He finds it all fascinating and tells her so every chance he gets. During her monologue Caligula wanders over and becomes extremely invested after he hears Ryan laugh at something Magdalene said. The small white cat jumps onto Magdalene’s lap and tries to paw the phone away from her ear.

“Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker. Little boots would like to talk.”

At the sound of Ryan’s greeting, Caligula starts meowing up a storm. It’s as though he’s actually holding a conversation with the man, waiting for Ryan to say something before he continues to make noise. Magdalene laughs through what could barely classify as a conversation until the cat gives her space to talk again.

“So,” she says, drawing out the word in an attempt to make Ryan laugh. “Bette asked me to join her and some of the other girls for drinks before Friday’s game.”

Ryan’s responding before Magdalene has finished uttering the last words. “That’s great! I think you should go.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly, “It would be nice for you to know someone other than Bette.”

Magdalene is surprised at the response, but tries her hardest to keep her tone light and teasing. “Why, you plan on keeping me around Mr. Graves?” She can tell Ryan is struggling to come up with an answer because there’s a fair amount of sputtering on the other end of the line.

“I’d be stupid to let you go.”

All the breath in Magdalene’s lungs escapes her. She didn’t expect him to say something like that, and it sends her mind reeling. What does he mean? Unable to process the comment, Magdalene makes up an excuse and hangs up as quickly as possible. She spends the rest of the night wondering if Ryan was trying to make a move and deciding how she should handle his homecoming in a few days.

☼☼☼☼

When Ryan gets home Thursday morning Magdalene is at work. Caligula is happy to see him, practically pouncing on him and purring so loud Ryan’s sure the neighbours heard the cat. For an animal so small, Caligula can make a lot of noise if he wants.

“Hi boy,” Ryan coos, adjusting his grip on the cat so he doesn’t get dropped while the two of them move around the house. “Did your mom talk about me while I was gone? Been thinking about her a lot lately.”

The cat doesn’t respond, of course, but Ryan finds comfort in vocalizing his emotions. Multiple times on the road trip Tyson made fun of him for the silent pining he’s found himself participating in since Magdalene moved in, and hinted that she might have said something to Bette. Neither of them are great at keeping secrets, but Ryan also knows they want him and Magdalene to get together and aren’t above manipulation to achieve their goals. He doesn’t know how Magdalene actually feels, but Ryan isn’t willing to risk losing their friendship. Just a couple of months ago she sat on the deck of the lake house and told him she wasn’t looking for a relationship – he has to assume that’s still her position because if he doesn’t Ryan isn’t quite sure what he’ll unleash. Though the two of them are close, closer than most friends, Magdalene stills keeps a lot of things to herself and Ryan doesn’t want to pry. When, and if, she’s ready he knows she’ll come to him.

Exhausted from the countless hours of travel he’s endured over the past few days and the pains that come along with being a professional athlete, Ryan falls back onto the couch cushions. He hurts in places he didn’t know existed and wants to do nothing but sleep. Caligula settles into his stomach, purring contently, and though he knows he should unpack his gear, Ryan can’t find the energy to move himself or the cat. Everything will still be there when he wakes up, and hopefully Magdalene will be on her way home. She texted Ryan earlier in the morning, no doubt just before she headed out the door, to say that she was taking some holidays to have a long weekend and would be home around noon. Sleep comes easy with Caligula nestled against his body, and Ryan dreams of Magdalene as he frequently does.

☼☼☼☼

Despite Bette telling her countless times she shouldn’t be, Magdalene is nervous. The significant others of the Colorado Avalanche are a tight knit group and are very particular with who they let in. Magdalene is a nothing, has no true connections to the team besides being Tyson’s girlfriend’s best friend, and she’s worried she won’t make the cut. If it wasn’t for Bette picking her up in the morning Magdalene would have found a way to get out of drinks, but the blonde made sure she couldn’t make a run for it.

Sitting in the elevated booth, she not-so-casually sips her glass of wine while Bette tries to calm her down. “They’re going to hate me,” she groans, lowering her head to rest it on the table.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bette counters. “You literally know most of them, and Livy will be here if you get too uncomfortable, but most of them were at EJ’s back in May.”

Magdalene can’t argue with the truth, so she rolls her eyes and finishes her drink. By the time she flags down the waiter for a refill the other girls have arrived. They take turns hugging Bette and shuffling into their seats. Magdalene feels awkward with no one acknowledging her, but she does her best to buck up and deal with it. It means a lot to Bette, and Ryan, that she’s here trying to make friends so she’ll at least make an effort.

A blonde who looks a little older than the rest addresses her first. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Mel. I think we met last season at a game.”

It takes Magdalene a second to recall the face, but then she recognizes Mel as the person who alerted her to the fight Ryan got into to defend Tyson. “Oh yeah,” she chuckles, though it’s still got a nervous quality, “You’re the one who was yelling about Ryan’s fight.”

Everyone looks at her like Magdalene had confessed to seeing a ghost. “What’s the matter?”

“No one ever calls him that,” a petite girl with tight curls explains. “We all just call him Gravy.”

“Oh.”

Magdalene isn’t sure what the comment is supposed to mean, or if it even meant anything at all, but she does her best to push it aside because Livy is trying to catch up with her. The rest of the outing goes well – Magdalene keeps quiet until someone gives an inaccurate analogy about Rome and she has to correct them. It may make her seem stuck up, but she really hates when people spread misinformation. Everyone laughs, and after that it’s hard for Magdalene to stay silent. She talks about work and college, but when someone asks about home she shuts down. Bette notices the shift in her behaviour before Magdalene’s face has even dropped, and shifts the conversation in another direction. Soon it’s a respectable time to head to the arena and they all pay their tabs, Magdalene going first and then ducking out of the bar that became crowded while they were sitting down.

The fresh air feels good against her skin, and she takes the time alone to regulate her thoughts. There’s still several hours until she can return home and cry in the shower over the mention of her family so it’s important to present a calm facade. Bette comes out slightly ahead of the other girls and checks in with her friend, but Magdalene assures her she’s okay. It was a bit of a spook, but the other girls have no idea about how fucked up her familial situation is so Magdalene can’t hold it against them. The arena is a few blocks over, so the group walks towards it at a brisk pace. Magdalene’s mind is still churning from the bar when they step inside, so she peels off from the rest of the group. Warm ups are about to start and she knows that seeing Ryan will help to calm her down, at least until they can go home and she can sequester herself away from the rest of the world.

She finds a space against the glass and strains her eyes for her new favourite number. Ryan hasn’t made it out on the ice yet, but Tyson gives her a big wave when he skates past. It takes a few seconds, though it feels like years, but Ryan eventually steps out, all long limbs and hair and dazzling smile as his teammates give him big hi-fives. Magdalene doesn’t want to intrude but she needs to spend a few moments with him to feel completely present. When he skates by she waves shyly, and Ryan doubles back once he realizes who it is.

“There’s my favourite girl!” he shouts over the crowd, making sure Magdalene can hear.

The phrase brings a smile to her face, which in turn makes Ryan light up more. “Hi Ry,” she yells back. “I just wanted to come and say hi.”

Ryan’s heart warms at her words, but he knows that’s not the only reason. He’s lived with her long enough to know that something is bothering her but he isn’t going to push. There isn’t much time to have a conversation, so Ryan takes the time to make plans for after the game. “You riding home with me?”

Magdalene nods. “Yeah. Bette picked me up this morning so I didn’t drive.”

The loud sound of sticks clapping against the ice startles them both, and it’s Ryan’s teammate’s way of getting him to refocus. Magdalene says goodbye and before Ryan heads back to the bench he flips a puck over the glass for her. She smiles brightly, and watches him skate away. On her way up the stairs she hands it to a little girl wearing a much too big Graves jersey. It makes her night, and Magdalene returns to the private box she’s watching the game from feeling much lighter than when she entered the arena.

☼☼☼☼

Later, much later, after all of Ryan’s post game media and sitting through the traffic of downtown, Magdalene opens up about what was bothering her at the arena. The two of them are curled up in Ryan’s bed buried under a mass of blankets with several pillows strewn about. It’s become a frequent place for them to spend time, and every time they lay down Magdalene rests her head on Ryan’s chest and he keeps her in place with his arms wrapped tightly around her. Magdalene’s clutching his hoodie tighter than usual, her voice small as she speaks into the darkness of the room.

“I didn’t just want to say hi earlier.”

Ryan isn’t surprised by her confession, but wants to know what caused the surprise visit. “No? What was it?”

Magdalene lift head and shifts to face him, propping herself up with an open palm. “It’s kind of stupid,” she mumbles, feeling dumb for even bringing it up. Ryan doesn’t want to know the sob story that is her past life. “But it’s mostly okay now.”

“You don’t have to tell me, and I don’t want to push, but I think getting it off your chest will help,” he whispers, feeling like talking in a normal voice could startle the girl in front of him.

He’s right – Magdalene knows it. Telling someone the truth, as much of the truth as she can share, other than Bette would do her some good. Her therapist once said Magdalene needed to work on letting people in, and she figures there’s no one better than Ryan. “One of the girls asked me about home when we were getting drinks, and it’s just a really sore subject for me. I shut down and just needed to see you to ground myself.” Ryan goes to talk, but Magdalene continues. “No one really knows, but I left for Denver as soon as I graduated high school. My parents weren’t the greatest, and I suffered a lot emotionally at home. When I told them I was leaving, they told me never to come back and we haven’t spoken since. So yeah, that’s pretty much it. And I just needed to see you to remind myself that I’m okay without my family. You’re part of my family now, the one that really matters.”

Ryan is speechless. “Oh bug,” he sighs, heart hurting for all the pain Magdalene has experienced in her life. “I’m so sorry.” He wants to scream for her, maybe even break something, but all his anger dissipates when he looks down and sees her crying. Silently, Ryan wipes away the tears with the pad of his thumb and holds Magdalene until she stops trembling. They lay in silence for a while, sitting with the weight of the confession she just made. At some point Caligula shuffles in and finds a spot at Ryan’s side that isn’t occupied by Magdalene. The three of them feel like a little family, and it’s too good for Magdalene not to do something about.

“Can I kiss you?”

She’s never been so confident while asking a question. Magdalene knows he wants to kiss Ryan, has known for a while, and after baring her soul to him it seems like an appropriate time to take the plunge. They’ve never truly been just friends and everyone around them, including themselves, knows it.

“Mags,” Ryan says in a gentle yet stern voice, “I’m not gonna kiss you. You’ve just been very vulnerable with me, which I appreciate, and though I really really want to fucking kiss you I’m going to take advantage of you like that.”

If it were possible, Magdalene’s heart would expand so much it would be close to bursting. “I promise this is what I want and that I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. So please shut the fuck up and let me kiss you.”

She leans forward to connect their lips, and it feels like a fire has been ignited in her veins. Ryan is soft and gentle with the right amount of grit to make Magdalene weak in the knees. They move in tandem, giving and taking where necessary, and by the time they pull apart for air Magdalene thinks she’ll never be able to kiss anyone other than Ryan. When he looks at her, eyes kind and glimmering with light, Magdalene is certain kissing other people is off the table.

Neither of them make an effort to talk about what just happened or what it means. Instead, Magdalene kisses him again, and again, and keeps going until she’s completely out of breath. There’s no protest from Ryan, and he looks as blissful as Magdalene feels. She rests her head on his chest again and he cards his fingers through her hair as they sit in the comfortable silence that surrounds them.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene keeps kissing Ryan, and he keeps kissing her. It’s always in the safety of his apartment, oftentimes with Caligula in the way, but wholesome and loving and warm. They haven’t defined their relationship, and truthfully Magdalene is glad. She likes being friends with Ryan and doesn’t know how the added pressures of dating would affect them – though she might like kissing him more than just being friends.

It becomes routine for either of them to reach for a kiss before heading to the door. Magdalene gets one every time she leaves for work, and if she’s there before Ryan has to leave for games he’s pulled into her lips by his tie. It’s fun and it’s new and Magdalene never wants it to end. She keeps the secret for a couple weeks, but eventually it becomes too much to hold in and she tells Bette one Saturday when they meet for brunch at Barn Owl because the boys are away.

“I kissed Ryan.” It’s out of her mouth like a bullet, cutting through the air and ringing out. Bette is shocked, jaw dropping, only to open further when Magdalene corrects herself. “Been kissing Ryan, actually.”

“You’re fucking joking,” Bette laughs, still not one hundred percent sure Magdalene is being serious. When the brunette nods her head, she squeals in what can only be presumed as delight. “Shut up! Tell me everything!”

Magdalene indulges her friend, and spills every detail she’s willing to share. Part of her wants to keep a bit of her life with Ryan a secret so she does, but Bette is more than willing to work with the information given. She listens carefully while Magdalene talks and waits until there’s nothing more to say before diving into a long list of reasons why kissing Ryan is the best thing that’s ever happened to her friend. Magdalene isn’t sure that it’s great because Bette will always have someone to go to games with, but she is in agreement that it is one of the best choices she’s ever made. They spend the rest of the morning giggling like school girls over potential love and Magdalene heads back to Ryan’s place feeling light and airy.

☼☼☼☼

The first thing Ryan does when he comes home is kisses Magdalene. She’s sitting on the couch with Caligula on her lap reading a book, and he doesn’t even bother to drop his bags on the floor before leaning over the worn leather and connecting their lips. It feels heavenly after the days-long absence and Magdalene chases his lips when Ryan pulls away.

“I missed you.”

They’re three words that shouldn’t mean much, but coming from him they send Magdalene spiralling. He missed her? The girl who spends her days geeking out over old documents and talks to her cat? Regardless of how true the statement is she appreciates it, because Magdalene missed Ryan more than she could ever explain.

“How was the flight home?” she asks, twirling a lock of his hair around her index finger and pulling him down for another kiss. Ryan happily obliges, and kisses her until Caligula begins to meow for attention. The cat practically launches himself into Ryan’s arms as he rounds the corner to sit down next to Magdalene, and purrs loudly at being reunited with the tall man.

Ryan laughs at the animal’s antics before wrapping his spare arm around Magdalene and pulling her close. “It was fine. We hit a bit of turbulence that made it hard to sleep but I managed,” he replies, and reaches for the television remote. Magdalene hums in response, resting her head on Ryan’s shoulder and returning her attention to the book in her hands. It’s silent except for the low buzz of the television as Ryan reviews tape, but neither of them mind. Co-existing is enough for both of them, and it’s peaceful and easy. The occasional conversation occurs but they mostly do their own thing, enjoying the feeling of being together again. More than a few kisses are shared, and Magdalene eventually pries herself away from Ryan long enough to make dinner.

They stayed glued to each other until Magdalene falls asleep. Ryan doesn’t even notice when it happens, but eventually he tries to leave the couch to get a glass of water and finds dead weight on top of him in the shape of the girl he just might love. Magdalene’s snoring softly, and he’s positive there is nothing more adorable in the entire world. A glance at the clock on the wall alerts Ryan to the fact that he should go to bed too, and he begins to brainstorm how to get Magdalene into bed without waking her. She’s been exhausted lately, working extended hours, and he knows she needs all the rest she can get.

It takes a few moments to coordinate, but Ryan gets himself upright without Magdalene realizing she’s no longer using him as a pillow. Gently he scoops her into his arms and pads down the hallway, careful not to hit her ankles on the walls or door frames. Once inside her room, Ryan tucks Magdalene into bed and makes sure her phone is on the nightstand just where she likes it. She looks so content in sleep that he can’t help but lean down and press a shirt kiss to her forehead.

“Night Mags,” he whispers into the dark, wondering if she’ll wake and hear all the adoration his voice holds.

Magdalene stirs at the noise, and opens her eyes to see Ryan’s retreating figure. “Night Ry.”

It’s late, approaching two in the morning, when Magdalene’s phone starts ringing off the hook. Though Ryan has told her multiple times that she doesn’t need to turn her sound on before she goes to bed, she can never find it in her to heed his words. What if there’s an emergency somewhere and some hospital has to get a hold of her? Magdalene would never be able to forgive herself if she was too late because she slept through the incoming calls.

Despite her underlying fears of missing something important, Magdalene considers letting it go to voicemail. She’s exhausted, between the high maintenance projects at work and trying her hardest to go to every Avalanche home game she can, and if it’s urgent she’s sure the person will call again if they need her. It rings three more times before Magdalene decides to pick it up – if only to stop the incessant noise.

Not bothering to even see who’s calling at such an ungodly hour, Magdalene speaks in a sleep-laden voice that betrays what she was doing not even a minute prior. “Hello?”

Bette answers her, offering a quick but sincere apology for the time but explaining that it couldn’t wait. Magdalene groans in contempt, thinking that it most certainly could have waited a few more hours. She doesn’t voice her opinion however, instead waiting for her friend to spill whatever news was making her bounce up and down on the other side of the line.

She’s about to hang up when Bette utters a sentence Magdalene’s been waiting for but never thought she’d hear at one fifty-seven am. “I’m getting married!”

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlouisbluesbrat21 @denis-scorianov @danglesnipecelly @c-tangerine @stormingroses @spine-buster @rapidfever @bb-nhlqueen7 (add yourself to the taglist!)

[alderaani]

weathering

i really am absolutely wiped out today, so this is not my best, but here’s a little something for day 7 of @commandercodyweek with today’s theme “missing perspectives”. this one’s a little homage to the fact that i was SO MAD when season five nearly gave us youngling rescuer Cody and then snatched it away again. 

summary: Cody knows what it’s like when you’re burning on fumes and get stuck in your own head. he gives Ahsoka a quiet moment and helps her let it go.

-

“Hey, kid,” he says, tilting his head down to get a proper look at her. “Looks like it was a rough one.”

Tano sighs, fishing out a smile for him. There’s dirt smudged through the markings on her cheeks and her akul tooth headdress is slightly awry. He sweeps his gaze over her face, taking in the shadows under her eyes, the tightness in her shoulders. She looks rough, not that he can blame her.

“Yeah, you know how it is with Hondo,” she shrugs, then yawns behind her hand and forces herself to straighten again.

Cody casts a dirty look at the open space overhead, in the general direction that the pirate ship had vanished in, with a good quantity of Republic credits and far more dignity than it’d deserved. Both privately and vocally Cody thinks that Ohnaka deserved nothing more than a boot up his ass, even if Obi-Wan is probably right that treating him with tolerance keeps them on better terms. He’d pointed out that hiring him to help them on Onderon hadn’t stopped him from kidnapping seven younglings, and then walked straight into the rebuttal of yes, it hadn’t, and would he just think of how much worse it could have been, had they not had those bonds?

Perhaps Cody’s just spoiling for a fight after all those hours crouched in an escape pod, helpless to do anything at all and deeply, painfully aware that every minute spent there meant that the younglings were on their own.

Still, Obi-Wan is usually right, however annoying that often is when he drags himself half-dead out of a campaign with no excuse other than a bold-faced ‘it worked, didn’t it?’. 

That thought had stopped him from physically detaining the wretch the minute Hondo had stepped foot on his ship, but just barely. He’d contented himself with glaring over Obi-Wan’s shoulder with enough force to melt the paint off of armour instead, blaster drawn with the safety off. Looking at the state Tano is in now, he wants to commandeer a fighter and chase after that miserable pirate to put a healthy dose of fear into him.

“Hm,” he says, huffing a soft laugh at the sight of the little Nautolan youngling’s slack-jawed awe when Obi-Wan lets him see his lightsaber. “Sometimes it feels like far too many roads lead to Florrum.” 

That makes her snort, but as quickly as it comes, she sighs and crosses her arms. “Figures I can’t even make it through a simple escort mission without things getting complicated.” 

He raises an eyebrow, even though she can’t see it, and feels a helpless little smile break over his face at the self-depreciating expression she’s wearing. He knows exactly where she learnt that one, can’t count the number of times he’s seen Rex wear precisely that shade of wry defeat. 

“Ahsoka, Ahsoka!” One of the younglings calls, and he sees the way her shoulders climb up to her montrals, how she forces her expression to ease out as she turns to look. “Didn’t one of the pirates try to armbar me, and didn’t I-”

Some of the others cut in then, clamoring with eager voices that tumble over each other in an excited, tumultuous rush. Their eyes are bright, flushed with first victory like a little pack of eager shinies. It’s well deserved, if half of what they’re saying is true. But he can see the way Tano has locked up, the way she’s swaying a little in place and fighting it hard. 

Not even Jedi can go on forever, and for all he knows she a force to be reckoned with, she’s still just a youngling herself. 

Gently, he detangles her from where the Ithorian and the Wookie have started demonstrating some of their circus acrobatics and takes his helmet off so that he can cast a significant look at Obi-Wan. He remembers all too well how that used to feel - that special adrenaline that used to spike on his first days in command, the unique weight of that pressure to do everything right, of everyone's expectation and their trust, too. He used to struggle to let it go, too, and has wrangled far too many little brothers into setting aside their own burdens. One more go at it isn’t a hardship. 

“I think the General’s got it handled here,” he says. “How about we head up to the mess and find some caf? It won’t be great, but it’ll be warm.” 

“Oh!” Ahsoka says, and he sees it, the way she starts to relax at the thought and then drags herself back, that same stubbornness that powers her through campaigns hamstringing her now. “That’s okay, but - I’m sure he’s got things he needs to do, I can’t expect him to -,” 

Cody loops a loose arm around her shoulders and steers her round to the blast doors.

“Believe me, he’ll be thrilled to have the excuse not to.”

He leads her out of the hangar, snatching Obi-Wan’s robe from a bench and draping it round her shoulders. He won’t miss it - and he smirks at the expression of delighted glee she gets at his derisive tone when he tells her so. Skywalker might think that he has as much rigidity as a stale ration bar, and Cody might be happy to let him while it still suits, but Tano’s a much-needed ally in managing the Kenobi-Skywalker show. 

He sits her down in the empty mess, setting a full steaming mug and a plate full of the jerky strips Rex says she likes in front of her, making light conversation until she’s comfortable enough to sag into the robe and the tight look around her eyes has faded. He can see the crash rolling in as the adrenaline fades, and makes sure his shoulder is there for her to land on as it hits.

“I’m so glad we made it back,” she murmurs, her eyes slowly drifting closed.

Cody smiles, nudging her caf mug back out of the range of her sleep-slack fingers, and waves down Aster to find out where they’re all bunking. 

“Trust me, Commander. You couldn’t have done a better job.”

He sees the moment she starts to believe him, the corners of her smile easing into something a little more genuine. 

“Thanks, Cody.”

[whiskeyjack]

#like Rio was literally soaking in his betrayal for the last season#why spend so much time with him bathing in his hurt and pain only to reduce what led up to the most pivotal scene in season 3?#I hate how they made Lucy’s death seem#it was so rooted in Beth’s betrayal

I feel this in my bones! All of it makes noooo sense and the no scars 😭😭😭 You think they would ~try~ for some consistency at least!

Right???? I know many people feel the same - and I’m purely just adding my complaints to everyone else’s in light of 4.09. Incredibly long-winded rant about how the show’s still fucking up (specifically with trauma) under the cut.

I absolutely agree and feel that the show’s decision for Rio to not only not have scars, but also to choose to frame what Rio’s motivations were for Lucy’s murder the way they did, is incredibly disappointing and upsetting. I personally was not part of this fandom when s3 was airing so I can’t really speak to how everyone felt about it, but for me, Lucy’s death was incredibly conflicting. Still is. I hate that scene.

However, from a purely story line approach—and by this I mean temporarily suspending the show’s blatantly harmful racist, misogynistic and just general cultural and tone-deaf narratives of portraying a young, female, character of colour as ‘naive’ and insignificant (to Beth)—while I hate it, I do understand the significance of Lucy’s character’s death relative to the plot. (During season 3 anyways.) Rio was betrayed. Rio was hurt. Rio was struggling to show Beth that actions have consequences. So, he showed her in a different way. At the time, it wasn’t super out of character for him to resort to violence, just not in front of the girls. As @00gangfriend00​ pointed out to me, Rio chose Beth in that moment in his own way. As Nick so eloquently put it, “Gangster Rio had to […] show her how big [his world] is”. In my opinion, the decision to have Lucy’s character’s death resurface this season and be used as a plot device wouldn’t be an issue, if—and only if—they continued with the show’s storyline in the weighted way they did since mid-s3. But they haven’t. They didn’t. The show continues to use characters that preach something even the writers can’t practice. At this point, it’s mentally challenging and honestly, incredibly exhausting, to be a fan. It’s always been challenging trying to defend many of their choices, and this only adds to my sentiment that I no longer think I should try.

Actions have consequences, and I just wish the writers knew that.

When they dedicated an entire season to build up Beth and Rio’s relationship in a quite frankly, unexpected, and a bit of a rushed way, only to rip it away in the most hurtful, cruel (and ooc) way possible resulting in real people being hurt by what was portrayed on their screens, there are consequences to that. When they spent the first half of the third season validating and building on Rio’s pain and betrayal, only to completely flip the script and suddenly have him brush it off, there are consequences to that. When they spent at least one and half seasons putting him—at the time, a non-POV character—through a maelstrom of emotions and circumstances where he experienced: distrust but willing to take risks after being turned in, lust, jealousy and then vulnerability (and probably some degree of love), rejection and feeling used, a deeply bruised ego and deception, trusting again even though he was still hurting, betrayal and backstabbing (literally) to the point where he came within an inch of his life and then after, being a victim of lies and deceit again forcing him to relive his most recent emotional betrayal while still suffering from the physical one Beth just put him through… all of that to say, the writing choice to have Rio find a way to show Beth how deeply she hurt him, was validated, in my opinion, because of all the events leading up to, including, and the consequences from 2.13. By upping the circumstances and stakes in that finale, they made the show about a hell of a lot more than comedy and crime. But, as soon as they say that he simply had to ‘walk [the gunshots] off’ or give him a backstory where his decision to kill Lucy boiled down to familial rivalry, what are the consequences of that?

It completely invalidates both traumas.

Rio didn’t walk it off. He was cooped up with a Fed while he had to snitch for at least a month (yet another inconsistency regarding their shoddy retcon). He plotted to kill the person he had fallen for that had put the bullets in his body. He then killed someone she cared about because he was incapable of killing her.

These are the scenes that NBC Good Girls chose to write, script, produce, film, edit and air.

Reducing the death of a character to an attempt to impress a woman, or just demonstrating how real and dangerous his world is, while leaving the true depth of trauma he experienced unacknowledged isn’t healing, it’s hurtful. Even if we assume Rio was putting up a front for Nick, we, as the audience, never got to see any other side of his (necessary) turmoil. The lack of scars and blasé comments, combined with the abundance of Rio POV scenes, points to the show deliberately switching gears and wanting the storyline to be done. Like @septiembrre​ said here, reducing trauma to a few lines isn’t healing, it’s hurtful. Erasing Beth’s violent actions against Rio isn’t healing, it’s hurtful. 

Both of these traumatic moments in the show—Lucy’s death and Rio’s attempted murder— were heavy and momentous, but they were deliberate choices. And I just wish the writers had the integrity to see them through.

It’s not okay to use trauma as a plot device and pick and choose how to write the fallout for it.

Edit: now that we know the direction of the show throughout their last season, it honestly saddens me to think about the incredibly problematic relationship the writing/producing crew had with trauma. (Unfortunately, I don't think this is unique to NBC Good Girls.) The whole Nick-Rio physical abuse storyline was not something that I was okay with in the slightest, especially since it really did reinforce the implicit narrative of Rio being stuck in a cycle of abuse. To him, at least from what I took from the show in season 4, love was synonymous with hurt/pain, which especially coming from Beth, a white woman, and Nick, a white-passing politician, perpetuates poisonous racial hierarchies of power that are not okay. Especially nowadays. Full stop.

The show committed to those story lines when the show aired them, but the lack of care and consistency cost the show an irreparable amount of both engagement and authenticity, especially where it matters. I'm not sure how retconning usually works when it comes to shows—and if it's normally as inconsistent as Rio's backstory is/was—but by the looks of it, the show had the time and money to cast new actors and actresses and come up with entirely new story lines. Honestly, the show's production feels a bit like a middle schooler: saying/doing things for shock value without any (public) accountability for the impact. However, each person in the room of production, is a fully-fledged adult who—unlike an adolescent—has the tools, or at least the resources to access the tools, to examine the problematic narratives of the show and possible impacts. Who Rio is season to season changed based on who was writing the script. The inconsistency was deafening.

I really hope that the show doesn't continue to do any more damage out there to people who still haven’t healed from the previous events incurred on screen. While the show may have initially had good intentions, the way it rolled out ended up disappointing—and more importantly, harming—fans (and likely marginalized cast + crew), due to unexamined racist, misogynistic and general power-over + exploitative toxic tropes that needed to be changed, if not removed completely, and/or treated and written with more care, empathy and perspective. To those out there still struggling, you are not alone 💗