#because it’s not like he’s actively trying to be unfriendly

[possibly-pasta]

HI HELLO I AM HERE TO STATE THAT CHARLES HADEN SAVAGE IS AUTISTIC AND I WOULD TAKE A BULLET FOR HIM. THAT IS ALL.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Tourist/On Visa Reader thinking it's part of the culture for them to be touchy because of König

You don't understand why people always say that Austrians are unfriendly - you met this funny, but a bit weird Austrian guy, and he is so touchy and active towards you, you'd think he is Italian or something! He was a bit quiet at first, when you met at some pub at Vienna - you wanted to go where locals go, having no desire to be like a normal, obnoxious tourist - you're going to the weird places, rare places, to something that you never seen on social media before. The guy has funny English - a bit of an accent makes it sound higher than normal, that boyish tone as he asks what you're doing here. He has a hand on your thigh almost immediately - it comes naturally, even the way he fights with the end of your shirt feels...normal. He has big hands, and you're a bit drunk and a bit of a sucker for hands like this, so you allow him to put them here. He says it's a cultural thing - something from the culture of the Salzburg mountains and how close people are to each other. It doesn't sound quite right, but you're too drunk on culture to care. He talks about his country and his job - something like a soldier, he says, and you salute him a bit sluggishly. He gently wraps his fingers around yours to make you salute properly - and you almost fall into his lap because of how careful he is. He handles you like fine china, like a really precious piece of equipment, and you kinda like it. He feels a bit awkward, still; sometimes, he would squeeze your leg a bit too tight and only let go when you whimper - you think he might be nervous about the whole changing into a different language thing. He asks where you're staying, and you tell him about a bit shitty hostel you got a room in - because you wanted to live like a local without being harassed by creepy Airbnb hosts. He asks if you want him to drive you to it - it's pretty late, and you don't really know the transport system yet. You thought he was too drunk to drive, but he didn't touch a single alcohol drop whole evening - he was just ordering you drinks, from beer to heavy liquor, constantly talking about how you have to try it if you really want to check out the culture. You want to trust him - so you smile at him as he pays for your tab and drives you. You don't recognize the area, but it's because you're a tourist, the first time in the city - he probably knows the roads far better. When you realise it's not even remotely close to your hostel, he is already dragging you in. It must be a cultural thing, too.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hideout (1)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Puppy, (see premise post or series)

Summary: An ultra-shy man named Grant arrives with various friends to your family-owned motel. He opens up slowly over the months...and grows a fantastic beard. 🤭

While this part has no mature situations, this series will be 18+ only. MINORS DNI. This is mostly pure setup for the smut in every future chapter. Your media consumption is your responsibility; please choose for yourself if these matters trigger you. If so, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this work is not it! WC ~2k

He first arrives with only his friend—two fit fellas, one white, one black. They pay in cash, share a double room. The most information you get is Tom Smith, the more open of the two, joking that you’ll have to excuse Grant’s shyness.

Grant doesn’t seem to respond to his own name.

He’s a beefy blond, and your impression is the man doesn’t need to have a lot going on up top to get by in life. You do try not to judge, though. Your job is more about keen observation and recognizing the needs of your guests.

These two guests need privacy. They aren’t unfriendly, but they are not chatty. They go as quickly as they came. One night. The room is slept in, but they were clean enough.

The next time they show up they need three rooms, but you only have two available. Tom and Grant bunk up again, and a couple are with them who do not come into the office. The woman has beautiful auburn hair that she covers with a ball cap, and her very tall beau—whose hand she holds—shields himself in far more clothing than necessary this time of year.

They all sleep (you assume) during the day and only socialize at night when the other guests aren’t around.

Not that the party is loud; they simply seem more at ease when it’s harder to see. They stay three or four days, leaving rather suddenly early one night after paying for the time already.

Sporadically, this continues.

Once it’s only the couple. She is very reserved and he is very awkward, but again nice enough. They stay for nearly two weeks, enjoying hikes in the area, always holding hands. The woman relaxes significantly. It’s quite lovely to see.

Mister and Misses Durham, you know them as. They don’t always respond by name either.

Another visit makes five guests with the addition of a beautiful young woman. Her hair is cropped and bleach blond, and she is by far the most at ease.

It’s this visit that you realize they are just staying in their rooms during the day not sleeping, and you find the karaoke machine to take to Tom’s room.

He’s thrilled, thank goodness, because you don’t normally offer up activities to those who don’t ask about them, but Tom bangs on the doors of the other two (you think) couples so they can join him.

You’re about to leave when he asks you to do a duet with him.

Grant throws out that Tom enjoys Marvin Gaye. It’s the most you’ve heard him say, ever.

“I do,” Tom agrees, “but I don’t mess with the master.”

So you have the idea to sing Marvin Gaye—the song—with Tom as Charlie Puth and you as Meghan Trainor.

It’s quite a lot of fun, belting as best you can, finding Grant’s intense gaze on you for the lyrics:  I’m like a stray without a home… I’m like a dog without a bone…

Just as quickly, however, you have to go back to the front desk. Duty calls and all.

You make sure they know the machine is all theirs for as long as they want. Their rooms are too far down the line of the building to hear if they do enjoy it for long, but you get no complaints about noise. You hope for the best.

Later that night, Grant comes by the office, carrying the machine with a smirk on his face and the most genuine appreciation on his lips. He has a lovely deep voice you never knew about.

He just talks to you.

It’s all superficial conversation about the area, the weather, what activities you like on your days off, but even that seems a struggle for him.

Tom was not kidding. His friend is extremely shy. He has trouble thinking up casual questions. He can’t look you in the eye until responding, and he doesn’t give more than a few words in answer to anything.

You laugh--you have to—when Grant asks if he can walk you to your door, which…is ludicrous because you live in the house a whopping fifty meters past the main motel. Your family has owned and run this place for three generations. You’ve walked that path your whole life.

“I like walking,” he shrugs, though from the sheer muscles on him, he does way more than just walk. “I was gonna do a lap or two anyway.”

“Well, I have to wait for Clark to show up, but—“ you look him up and down “—okay.”

Grant is so sweet but so stiff. He holds himself with purpose when actively thinking, but you catch him having these distant moments. He withers like a violet, a shell that’s too small for his big body. He seems lost and lonely.

You’re glad to do whatever keeps him company. Your goal for the night is to make Grant smile as much as humanly possible, but that’s difficult when he won’t let you know anything about him.

Twenty minutes later, Clark, a local stoner kid who hardly looks up from his phone, waltzes in, stepping around Grant like a wall that’s always been there and throwing a “hey, man” out with zero regard for a response. Classic Clark. That’s why he’s on night shifts.

So you grab your bag and let Grant hold the door open for you.

Maybe you’ve been watching the Durhams too much when they come around, but you feel a compulsion to hold his hand. You don’t, obviously, because you only just heard this guy speak for the first time today. It would also be incredibly awkward to hold Grant’s hand in the dead silence that follows on your way up the gravel path.

You’re so consumed by figuring out what to say next that you don’t notice till the beast is right there.

An elk walks right in front of you, taller than Grant. From this angle the animal blocks the entire view of your house it’s so big, and you jump back, slamming into your startled escort’s chest.

You both freeze as it moves slowly at a diagonal to the other side of woods, bringing it and its gigantic horns closer still.

It squawks like some sort of awful banshee and stamps huge hoofs. You throw your weight backward and spin to flee, clambering over Grant’s body.

Why you’re so scared, who knows; you should be used to the wildlife, but no creature has ever done this before.

The most shocking thing, however, is how strongly Grant tries to hold you immobile.

The harsh grip on your waist and the way he hisses through his teeth for you to stop should be your hint, but instead you cling to him harder, asking quietly if the animal is gone.

“Uh…” Grant tenses against you. “It’s…it’s just—“ he shudders when you wriggle “—yes, gone,” he bites out, pushing you away by the hips.

He takes a second to breathe, buries his hands in his pockets, and leans forward, gathering himself.

It was scary. That could have turned nasty very quickly. You were lucky Grant was there and calm…except he was sorta the reason you were distracted in the first place.

Finally composed, he sighs and motions forward. “Let’s get you home.”

Two months later, Grant’s initial five o’clock shadow has come in nicely.

You’ve learned the routine of their check-in. There’s only one room available, unfortunately, but if they stay more than two days, there should be another open.

Tom shrugs and offers a playful, “we’ll see. We go where the wind takes us.” He smooths his palm over a fresh fade at his nape and the sharp angles of his goatee.

“And you, I see, have stopped in for a cut with Terrence in town. He loves the three slices like that.” That's how the barber marks his work. Terrence's shop is very popular.

“It’s a good signature. Wish I could'a convinced this big lug to get a trim.” Tom elbows his friend who stares at his feet.

Grant runs his fingers through his golden locks and swallows. “Yeah, well, maybe next time.”

Without realizing what you’re doing, you stand on the rungs of your stool behind the counter and reach for his lusciously full beard.

“Don’t you dare get rid of this,” you chide, fingertips grazing the skin of his cheek beneath the course yet soft hairs.

You should apologize. You should let go and sit back down. You should professionally hand them their key and be done with it, but instead, you linger, watching his blue eyes darken with a primal devastation.

He’s prey caught in a cage.

You release Grant’s face with an awkward laugh and a shake of your head.

Tom makes his own, very knowing face, and winks.

“You should do that more. Touch him. He could use it.”

Grant clears his throat harshly and blushes, mumbling something about which room number you said they had and that he’ll bring the other bags from the car. He leaves. Tom takes the keys with another wink and a sassy tap on the hardwood.

“Thank ya, ma’am. We appreciate it.”

It’s about twenty minutes later when your pen rolls off the edge of the counter, you find a small duffle left where Grant stood.

“He was joking. It was a joke,” Grant blurts when he finds you standing there to give it back.

You just smile and say Tom isn’t wrong.

“So, if you ever just want a hug…” you mutter, taking a chance to scratch at his bearded chin again. “Not like you’re gonna hurt me.”

He looks back inside, as if seeking permission or checking to make sure his friend is still in the bathroom, singing in the shower.

Grant can’t seem to meet you halfway, but he does inch forward, struggling to word a simple ‘yes.’

The tentative embrace starts with only the top of his chest touching you, bent so his butt is out, no pressure on his hands at your shoulders, so you push a little more and a little more. You get close enough he needs to wrap his arms around you instead. He has to stand straight so his chin doesn’t poke your forehead. He whimpers slightly when your own arms encircle his tiny waist.

A few breaths later, he relaxes into a lovely full-body hug, his rough fingertips on your bare skin where your shirt bunched up. You’re both being human, no more, no less, tangled in simple comfort.

Grant tucks his face into your collarbone suddenly and squeezes, not so hard that it hurts but not gently either. The move tickles you with his beard, your hands pawing up his back as you giggle, and he whines like wounded prey.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothe. “I can be here, if you want, to hold. It’s okay.”

That has the opposite effect you intended, knocking him out of some soft reverie and launching him back a foot, a necessary but unwelcome distance.

Grant looks guilty, needy, and resigned as he thanks you for returning the bag and sees you out the door.

dividers by cafekitsune and firefly-graphics

A/N: This will be the shortest (probably) of all the parts, and yeah, we get into some smuttier moments pretty quickly... Stay tuned!

[Next Part: Sweet Baby]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

[sweetcloverheart]

I can't stop thinking about how upsetting it is that in MLB the "Power Of Love" only applies to the villains instead of the heroes, and for such flimsy reasons

Marinette is never allowed to truly nor fully rely on her relationship with her classmates to help with interpersonal problems because if she does, then she can't be the "super strong female protag" the show totes her as. So the show will constantly/actively discourage any cooperation or reliance on her friendships (even as it "punishes" her for failing to do so like in "Penalteam" and "Strikeback") by having it always end in failure or a worst situation, while presenting the others as too "naive and trusting" of her enemies or any adults/solutions as useless (Oh hi Su Han!) to justify it, thereby forcing her to have to tackle whatever issue she faces alone while presenting it as necessary. She's even made to lie to her partner because telling him any relevant information regarding their previous main enemy would mean removing Adrien's glued-on rose-tinteed glasses regarding his father and what an awful human being he was in his final moments of life.

Meanwhile, Gabriel can do everything short of tax fraud and always be presented as our deeply conflicted "morally grey" villain who's actually totally in the right, because everything he does can be excused because it's being done in the name of obsession love for his comatose wife. Nothing he does is worthy of persecution because in the narrative's eyes, he hasn't done anything wrong actually, since it's all for love. Emotionally abusing his son and trying to take advantage of his depressive episodes for his own goals? It's fine, it's for Emilie. Using a clearly emotionally vulnerable child and a super exploitive one for his plans and then abandoning them to the consequences? It's fine, it's for Emilie (and Chloe and Lila are She-demons, so they deserve it!/s). Harassing his son's girlfriend (through both his position and magic) to either try and get them to break up ("Protection" and "Pretension") or getting a magical servant for his own ends ("Chat Blanc")? It's fine, it's for Emilie. Leaving his friend and secretary to die from the same broken miraculous that magic coma-ed his wife? It's fine, it's for Emilie. Using his adult friends and his son's same age ones for his activities as Hawkmoth by purposely upsetting them? It's fine, it's for Emilie. Exploiting his son's image despite said son being clearly uncomfortable with it? It's fine, it's for Emilie. Instructing one of his Akumas to allow his son to fall to his potential death to confirm if he's his teenage nemesis (Edit: was incorrect about event. Have corrected)? It's for Emilie, so he's good! Locking his child in a bleach white rubber room (Unfriendly reminder that Adrien has canonical claustrophobia) because he went to visit his friends and to have him out of the way of his ultimate plan via using the previously mentioned image exploiting? Emilie, Emilie, Emilie - so long as it's for her, anything he does is golden! Even at the very end, where you have Marinette pointing out how much he made his son suffer, Gabriel does no proper reflecting or is forced to have his goal denied of him as a result - instead, he's given posthumous hero status (along with a statue and another adult villain who skipped consequences giving a speech about what a great and noble man he never was) and made directly responsible for the utopia the world became because he threw the heroine's mercy right back in her face; all because the "Power of Love" makes it so that everything he does for Emilie is moral and good, no matter how vile.

[stxrvel]

something #1

guys, i know ive disappeared and im so sorry:(. ive been having trouble getting inspiration to write, bc there are a lot of things going on in my life right now that really demotivate me, butt today i was able to write this out of the blue and wanted to share it with you guys! so i hope you like this, whatever this is going to be a part of, and hope to see u soon! <3

warnings: an unfriendly and unlikeable reader thats most likely to anger you, bad words and lots of hate, friends to enemies to ?????? 1k words

“Are you supposed to be here at this hour?”

Y/N moved away from the locker where she had stowed her things that morning, blowing the strands of hair that had been left out of her hasty ponytail.

“Are you supposed to be my mom?”

James Barnes, from across the room, scowled at her. Y/N returned the gesture, watching him out of the corner of her eye move to the other end of her position to do God knows what.

It had been at least noon since they had returned from the mission and Y/N hadn't dared cross the shower area near the Complex hangar just to avoid that interaction with Barnes. The weights in the gym, the treadmill and all the objects she could hit were more appealing to her than having an ordinary conversation with another human being.

That's why she had waited hours to go back for her things, some clothes and items she usually left in that area to use after missions, but just that day they weren't needed because the frustration was bigger and the anger was eating her alive.

Especially the anger she felt against Barnes in those moments.

“And can you stop taking over the gym? There are recruits who have to train, but you scare them away with that dead face,” Barnes spoke again with his back to her, and Y/N had to resist the physical urge to throw the thermos in her hands at him.

“It's not my fault you train wimps.”

“They're not wimps,” Barnes turned away, sincerely offended. “You actively yell at them to go away.”

“They're my training hours, what do you want me to do? Be kind and let them pass?”

Barnes averted his gaze, slamming his locker with his black backpack over his shoulder, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe he was having this discussion with her.

“Is it even healthy for you to train so many hours in a row?”

Y/N pushed the small locker door as well, the sound of the impact silencing any thoughts of the two of them in the room. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“God,” Barnes raised his head, his face regretful that he'd prompted the conversation in the first place when he could have let it die. “You're impossible to talk to.”

“Then don't fucking do it.”

Their gazes met, each at either end of the room, Y/N closer to steaming out the door.

“You should've stayed with your fucking recruits instead of coming to shit all over my mission,” she couldn't help but spit out what had been rattling around in her head for hours, completely ignoring the grimace beginning to form on Barnes' face and grabbing the doorknob to get out of that cramped space as quickly as possible.

The led lights in the hallway blinded her for a moment, walking in a straight line down the path she already knew by heart to the rooms. Not all Avengers lived in the Complex, but Y/N preferred that to having to constantly run into Barnes in the Tower.

“Hey!” she heard the voice of the aforementioned, but only quickened her pace noticing the hurried pace his own were taking. “Is this all about the mission?”

Y/N stopped her steps in the middle of the hallway, near the stairs, where some agents were walking with dozens of papers in their hands and watching them out of the corner of their eyes. They already knew the routine. They all knew it.

“What, you think that's not enough?”

She turned, with that impossible-to-read expression they'd all grown accustomed to by now. She knew Barnes wanted to believe he could still read through her mask, but he could try to convince himself with fake words all he wanted, because that would never be the case again.

“It was mission impossible, Y/N. Steve agreed,” Barnes paused in front of her, barely casting a vague glance at the people passing them by. His right hand held the strap of the black suitcase so tightly that his veins bulged. Y/N barely snorted at his words.

“Just because you beat me by a majority doesn't mean you're right.”

“So the right thing to do was to go into the lion's den?”

“The right thing was to finish what we went to do, Barnes.”

“The right thing was to get out alive,” he determined, raising his voice. Y/N noticed his eyes red from the closeness they had adopted in the face of the heated discussion, and the faint thought crossed her mind that Barnes wasn't really doing anything productive to have run into her at that precise moment in the gym. She almost broke her expression to slap him.

“If you had followed my plan to the letter, we would've gotten that thing and gotten out alive. Do you really have a hard time accepting that my plan was a good one?”

“I have a hard time believing we would have made it out alive. There were too many of them. You saw them!”

“You know what? It makes sense that you have a bunch of stupid recruits. Like father, like son,” Y/N knew she was touching on a sore point, because one thing Barnes prided himself most on was having his own team look up to him as a role model after all he'd been through, but she'd stopped caring about such things quite some time ago.

“Y/N…” Barnes lowered his voice, taking a deep breath and looking at her through his eyelashes.

“If you show them your way, they're not going to survive a day in the field.”

“That's what you think.”

“That's what I know, because this job is who I am. Stop living like you're made of glass,” she looked him up and down one last time, his face contracting in an emotion she wouldn't allow herself to feel anymore. The memories that surfaced that melancholy face almost made her vomit in the middle of the hallway.

Maybe there was a time when Y/N thought she could have a good friendship with him; a time when he would've thought she could become a good friend. But none of those moments lasted long, rushing away like a shooting star, disappearing into space like smoke.

“We made the right decision,” Barnes wasn't going to budge and he was going to have the last word and she knew it because she just knew him so well. She almost laughed in his face at how predictable he had become. Emotions really did make people weak, and in this job that was a very big danger.

“Keep convincing yourself of that and you're going to end up dead.”

Y/N paced before Barnes could answer her, a bitter feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. She knew he would follow her with his eyes so she tried to pick up her pace without looking too much like she was trying to flee from his sight. It was torture to be around him after all.

[gospelofme]

A Rambling Essay about Crosshair

I feel like there are lots of characters like Crosshair in Star Wars. Characters that portray themselves to be unfriendly assholes, but are using that to protect a vulnerable, traumatized inner self.

When we meet Crosshair in season 7 of The Clone Wars episode The Bad Batch, he’s an asshole. He and Wrecker start a fight when Cody is injured (Cody is the only “reg” Crosshair has respect for, but I’ll get into this another time). In the episode, A Distant Echo, he brings up the fact that Echo could be dead, or a traitor. He goes so far as to suggest just leaving Echo for dead since he is “just a reg”. This upsets Rex, which was his intention in my opinion, and Crosshair ends up getting punched in the face for it. While this was an important aspect to remember, Crosshair could’ve been more gentle about it. Instead he was arrogant and dismissive, he meant to be cruel with his remarks. This is asshole behavior.

Skipping ahead to The Bad Batch series. When Order 66 comes through, he actively tries to kill Caleb (Kanan). We know the others didn’t have their chips activate, due to their defectiveness (later we do have Wrecker’s activate, but only after a head injury). But Crosshair’s did, partially at least if not fully. He still tried to be part of the squad (not initially reporting Hunter for disobeying Order 66) until his chip’s influence was strengthened. Once that happened, he became loyal to the Empire and thus began the era of Crosshair being their enemy. What he did during this time wasn’t his fault, as he was being controlled by the implanted chip.

However, I wish to draw attention to the episode Reunion in Season 1 of The Bad Batch. Crosshair is injured by the engines of a Star Destroyer activating and burning his face. We were left with three options here.

One: the chip was destroyed by the injury, since it was on the right side of his head. This would result in its removal.

Two: the chip is intact, but has been damaged and may not be fully functioning.

Three: the chip is intact and still functioning as normal, since the injury seems to be just scarring and largely focused on the surface of his skull.

Reason one would bring us to the realization that any action Crosshair was doing post-injury was of his own free will. This is further solidified when Hunter and Crosshair are arguing in the season 1 finale, Crosshair revealing that he had had his inhibitor chip removed a long time ago. He does refuse to tell Hunter when he did this. His hair could’ve hid the removal scar easily, but the procedure would’ve left him with a bandage and a shaved portion of his hair. The others would have noticed. That makes it logical to think the chip was removed when Crosshair was receiving treatment for his injury. But this is also unlikely since I don’t see the Empire removing their source of control from Crosshair.

This brings me to the only option of the chip still being in place and Crosshair just lying to Hunter to make him feel like a failure. I feel like he did this to Hunter for the same reason he told Rex that he would’ve left Echo for dead because he’s “just another reg”. He’s trying to get the other to believe he is just an asshole. Irredeemable.

Later in Kamino Lost, Crosshair is still unwilling to renounce his loyalty to the Empire, but he’s also not actively trying to kill his former team. He even saves Omega at the end, knowing he was the only one who could’ve made that shot.

The latter half of Season 2 is where we start to see the real Crosshair come out. His interactions with Cody and Mayday are turning points for him. Mayday’s murder is the trigger he needs to sever his loyalty to the Empire. Crosshair goes through some serious torture and is traumatized as a result. This shatters the protective shield he had built around himself (likely since childhood). Before, the only ones he had willingly allowed in was Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker. Later Echo was included. He is still refusing to let Omega in, but this will likely change at the end of the series. He is still suffering through this experience, even though he’s rejoined his team. He’s refusing to admit his fears, the shaking of his hand is enough for Hunter and Wrecker though. They don’t seem to press this as much, but I don’t think any clone trooper knows how to deal with mental health and trauma (as they were supposed to be “immune” to the effects of battle fatigue/stress/PTSD).

He’s not the same Crosshair he was when we met him, but he’s trying to act as if he is. He has gone through being a loyal member of Clone Force 99, to feeling betrayed and abandoned by them. He becomes loyal to the Empire, until he is abandoned (on Kamino) and betrayed (by Mayday’s murder) by them.

I found it interesting that he still tried to be loyal to the Empire after they abandoned him on Kamino. He still tried to be a good soldier. He still tried to please them. It made me wonder if this is what he was like as a child. Trying to get others to like him or be pleased with him. But due to the obvious animosity between Clone Force 99 and regular clone troopers, this was likely something he’d never achieve and he had to accept that. Thus he walled up the hurt he felt and actively tried to keep others at bay with an asshole attitude.

[fanstuffrantings]

I follow some people who talk about baldurs gate 3, and the way the fandom almost largely goes out of its way to babygirl everything astarion does while refusing to give the same leniency to the far less evil characters is baffling.

I feel like Gale, Wyll, and Lae'zel are the ones who often make this the most clear. Under the cut.

Whether it's because of the glitch pre console release or just a general refusal to engage with his story, people like to paint this picture of Gale being some Narcissistic abuser who is only ever power hungry. I've seen people try and justify mystra's actions. Now even if Gale was a young adult when Mystra came to him, Mystra is his goddess. She's in charge of the weave. She had so much more power over him, student/teacher and boss/underling relationships are so looked down upon because of that inherent power imbalance. And I think there's also an implication that this is relatively normal for all versions of mystra to do to younger men.

Elminster isn't free of criticism because he actively brought a young Gale to be groomed into becoming a pawn for Mystra. Gale gets discarded by mystra for his seeming ambition and wants to move on, but is also still desperate to please her in anyway he can, and she tells him to kill himself. I don't understand how people go through his plotline and see him believing the only way he's useful is dead and then just assume he's just power hungry. Is he a bit full if himself? Yes. He's a wizard. They're like that. But he's not the worst person in the world, and he's definitely not the one people should claim as the abuser in his relationship with Mystra.

People call Wyll boring, some paint this idea of him being holier than thou/looking down on everyone around him. Since he was 17 Wyll has given his whole life to protecting people and trying to be a hero. He's self sacrificial, thrown out by his father for making a pact he only made to save the city he adores. Wyll talks so much about baldurs gate. He wants to return.

Wyll has his body altered unwillingly for doing the right thing and yet he never once regrets it. He's made into a devil, the creatures so many of the npcs and companions loathe, for his kindness. He's constantly tricked and mocked by Mizora who we know from the game was sent by Zariel to corrupt a good hearted person. Even still, Wyll is a kind and honest man. He's charming and a bit cheesy but that's fine. Wyll can be incredibly self sacrificial and stubborn in his morals, but if you're running around doing mean things to impress Astarion, you can't blame Wyll for not liking your character and judging you. He's a hero of the people, of course he'd stand with them. We also need to remember he got so heavily redone that he has barely 6 hours of in-game content now. Which is abysmal compared to everyone else.

Lae'zel was raised by a cult, a cult that spans all her people where they're taught to bow and serve a lich queen who promises them glory if they're good enough. She can be harsh and unfriendly, but we need to remember she's the one most aware of what the tadpole can do and with that in mind we know she's very desperate to get things done and cure herself. Next to astarion she's the most evil aligned origins companion, and even still so much of that is due to being brainwashed into a certain belief.

Lae'zel in canon is the youngest companion, very early 20s and it often shows. She's a skilled warrior who doesn't see the need for statements that are already obvious. She's been beaten into shape and filled with ideas that unless she's perfect as the creche commands then she is worthless. She's scared and alone in act 1 with people who most likely don't care about it the same way she does. Lae'zel is imperfect like all the other companions, but if you're willing to accept that astarion is soft under all his bluster, why can't you do the same for Lae'zel?

I don't hate Astarion, I liked him a lot my first playthrough, he was my main romance. But the way the fandom ignores that he's definitely evil in act 1 and 2 because "I just don't see him that way", how people act like he's the only character in the cast who was abused when abuse and the cycles of it are the main theme of the game, how people willfully misunderstand his ascension ending and paint it as his good one when the writers state repeatedly it's not, the way the fandom will insult and demean other characters for jabbing at astarion's trauma but applaud him when he does the same exact thing, when they ignored his racism towards gnomes and gur (which is anti Romani racism repackaged). There's also a chance that in his time, Astarion was a corrupt politician, something making his death more complicated but also adding interest to it that a lot of his fans want to ignore to make him pure.

Astarion isn't perfect, none of the companions are. And they're not supposed to be. But his special treatment by fans is becoming so incredibly tiresome to see.

[curi0us-gh0st]

You & Me (Lee Doona)

pairings: Lee Doona x GN!Reader

word count: 1.606

genre: fluffy > angst (?) > smut

a/n: no, just being very gay for Doona>> || This is to make up for the time I haven't made requests, sorry, this week has been crazy for me and I'm trying to finish my spirit fanfic, then I'll make the requests!

Lee Doona!gf who outside her apartment is arrogant and unfriendly to people, so badly raised that she makes people hate her, but she isn't even paying attention to them; But when she gets into bigger trouble — like a lawsuit for offending and throwing coffee at a medical student at her college — you have to go there and sort it out.

Lee Doona!gf who when she is jealous of you is talking to a popular girl on campus, she is touching you while asking you to help with her activities and not see her ulterior motives, so Doona has to intervene and get involved in the conversation, taking the girl's hands off you and releasing smoke from your cigarette in her face, making her cough and quickly say goodbye for the irritation.

Lee Doona!gf who is forbidden from entering the kitchen because she almost burned down the house trying to make pancakes for breakfast, now you are the one taking on the duties of preparing food for yourselves.

Lee Doona!gf that when she's angry about something you did unconsciously, she'll spend the day with her headphones on just giving you looks from head to toe, like a product she didn't like but has to put up with.

Lee Doona!gf who when she is arrogant towards you, unintentionally just because she is having a bad day, gives you tight hugs and kisses on the neck because she knows that you will forgive her.

Lee Doona!gf who when she has to meet you after a class, puts on her best clothes and prettifies herself just so everyone can look at her and see that she has someone; And that you turn extremely red when she appears in clothes that hug her body perfectly and puts her hand on your waist possessively to expose it to everyone around while kissing you passionately.

Lee Doona!gf who, when she is in front of the mirror for a long time, makes her appear behind her and hug her, telling her how beautiful she is and that he loves her.

Lee Doona!gf who sits with her arms crossed as she watches you train with your friends, biting her lip, winking at you when you look at her from afar, and jumping up and down when you hit the shot.

Lee Doona!gf who when you're watching her favorite team's match but it's too late because of the jet lag, she grabs a blanket and falls asleep with her head in your lap while you make coffee.

Lee Doona!gf that when you spent the whole weekend away because of college, you arrive and see her sitting on the couch pouting and sulking which only gets better when you hug her and carry her to the room, to spend the day cuddled up watching films.

Lee Doona!gf who told you stories about her old life while the clock ticked midnight and you were cuddled up on the soft dorm bed.

Lee Doona!gf who, when you're busy doing your activities, rolls around in bed (or on the couch) with one of your sweatshirts, smelling it and playing with it until you look at it, dropping it on top of her head and making a pile while she Pretend like you weren't doing anything.

Lee Doona!gf who loves to tease you, you're making dinner for you and she's just in your chair showing her shoulders and biting her lips, flirting and singing to you until you ask her why she's looking at you like that and she says she is I miss you, but did you spend the day together??

Lee Doona!gf that when she made you cry because she thought she was in love with someone else, but she was just preparing something surprise for you and cried together seeing you cry even after explaining the misunderstanding.

Lee Doona!gf who takes you to swim in the sea (or lake?) while it's night, the cold of the icy water while you have so little clothes on and are almost hugging each other to keep warm.

Lee Doona!gf who plays with you, spending long seconds in the water until you go down to see her looking into your eyes until she comes up and kisses you, she is so in love with you and everything she thinks and that you are too perfect for her .

Lee Doona!gf who, when he discovers that everyone knows them as "the black cat and the orange cat" around campus, tries to find out who is who, gathering clues until he finishes his search and says that even with your group of friends, you were shy too much and only went out when she went, plus it seemed like she was more friendly with your friends than you were! (you are the black cat and she is the orange cat).

Lee Doona!gf who when you go to a park, she insists on going to a machine to get a toy and when she manages to get it she screams like a child who just got some candy.

Lee Doona!gf who loves being spoiled by you, guarding your gifts as if her life depended on it; Small objects like jewelry, stuffed animals and photographs of you, but I would certainly feel bad if you thought she didn't like the gift because she received it with indifference because she was away from home, but that's just her personality!!

Lee Doona!gf who always comes out of the closet with a new outfit that she just bought or is getting ready with you to go out, she gives you a little spin so you can just say that it looks perfect on her, but only her looking at you, seeing that you are drooling over her.

Lee Doona!gf who when she goes out with you and your friends, wears the smallest skirt she has to tease you, knowing that you get weak when she drinks, so she dances with her friends and lifts her skirt a little more, will make you blush more than than normal.

Lee Doona!gf that when you're going back to the dorm, you end up stopping somewhere just to grab each other and kiss like you haven't seen each other in years.

Lee Doona!gf that when someone confronts you, you try to take the lead to defend yourself and Doona pushes you aside, only to argue with a guy older than you.

Lee Doona!gf who got bright-eyed while you tried to chase away the paparazzi who were disturbing your date and you threatened him if he didn't call the police.

Lee Doona!gf wants to see you near your dorm with your friends, discussing a job and she's down the street, call out to you and raise a hand to get your attention.

Lee Doona!gf that when she saw you defending yourself if a group of college girls were talking bad about her and you jumped in to defend your girlfriend even though you were stuttering nervously, when you were left by the group of girls, she hugged your arm and kissed your cheek making you shy.

Lee Doona!gf who loved it when you used her size to tease, lifting her onto her lap, getting on top of her while pinning her to a wall when she's angry.

Lee Doona!gf who to everyone is a clueless bore to others, but to you, she's just a needy little slut while she begs you to go deeper into her with your fingers.

Lee Doona!gf that when you fuck her, she scratches your back and leaves hickeys and bites on your shoulders and neck just to spread the word that she owns you, but it's actually you.

Lee Doona!gf who likes to rub herself against your soft, hard thighs just to get on top of you (or ride you).

Lee Doona!gf who teases you with her skimpy clothes while you're at practice (or match) until you pull her into the locker room and eat her out, making her moan her name without caring who hears.

Lee Doona!gf who feels so sensitive when you degrade her but cums when you call her a princess or a doll.

Lee Doona!gf wants to run between your legs when you are overwhelmed with activities, just to relieve the tension for the test that is coming up.

Lee Doona!gf the first time you made her squirt, you didn't know if that was good or bad, but as you were glued to her pussy you just took it all willingly, getting up to see her exhausted and smiling with her face covered of its juices.

Lee Doona!gf wants to cry when you accidentally overstimulate her because you decided to take it slow, just for sweet and gentle sex but ended up having to fuck her faster and deeper, hearing her screams until she squirts all over you and the covers.

Lee Doona!gf who is sensitive because you want to play with her breasts, you hug her from behind while you are at home and your hands go up under her shirt, starting to roll her nipples between your fingers, sometimes pinching and kneading them while she moans with her head thrown onto his shoulder.

Lee Doona!gf you take care of after having sex, kissing every part of her body and taking her to the bathroom to clean up.

Lee Doona!gf who loves sleeping on your tall body because she feels safe and good with you, just you.

[m0nst3r-fvngz]

So I actually got around to drawing my MFN au so yay. But I unfortunately only drew Norman so…

Anyway Ima just put some random stuff abt norman here:3

•hyper or just very active

•loves hugs and handing out and also food

•goes EVERYWHERE with you(like he’ll follow you to your kitchen, to the store, outside, bathroom, bedroom, ANYWHERE)

★He’ll try to get in the bathroom so just make sure you lock it…or have enough power to keep the door closed.

★He’ll follow you to bed:3 like he’ll get in his Jammies and join you when you sleep.

•does not know what personal space is.

•if you’re his best friend EXPECT HAND HOLDING

★He likes to hold his best friends’ hands:3 nothing romantic.

•If you interact with him in anyway he’s your best friend, you’re his best friend, and he’ll NEVER LEAVE YOU ALONE(do NOT forget that)

•if he’s proud of something he’ll immediately come show you.

★He loves showing you things.

•anything you give him, he keeps.

•he’s very protective of you.

★He’ll protect you from the other puppets and TRY to protect you from the unfriendly

•he’s pretty kind and thoughtful.

★Since you are in a dystopian city, there’s not much food around and Norman knows you need food and water so any food/water he finds he’ll immediately think of how much you need it and he’ll bring it to you.

•he knows how to patch himself up when he gets hurt so you don’t have to worry!

★He also knows how to take care you if you’re hurt! He’ll go find some stuff to bandages your boo boos!

•he’ll try his hardest to soothe you when you’re panicking or stressed.

★He’ll hug you, reassure you, comfort you<3

•he cries when you aren’t around because he’s scared he’ll end up alone again with no one to talk to!

★He’ll get extremely attached to you. He’ll kidnap you and bring you to a safe place(no he won’t tie you up or anything). He’ll want you to stay and he thinks bringing you somewhere safe will convince you to stay.

•he loves you:3 (in a best friend kind of way)

Anyway that’s all I have for now:3 also I dunno when ima make another MFN puppet to do- Sorry if I haven’t been posting MFN stuff

[b0vidine]

Encore CJVerse Chatroom Post

Just a long post about the Encore au guys in the cjverse chat. I'll be explaining what they've been up to also just their general presence in the chat here. Sooo enjoy!

Due to events of the chat- that I will explain soon- the Encores are all humans again so I'm just going to quickly talk about each of them individually.

Mind is named King. At first he kept his distance from chat but overtime he got more used to it and is now mostly friendly with everybody. He rarely gets in fights, mostly only doing so when it's in defense of Hearts lol. Here's his current profile picture!

Heart's name is Paladin, he is also commonly called Pal, or even Padin by one specific individual. Back when he was a puppet he was called Dove but he will kill you if you use it now. Pal tends to be a lot in chat, he gets in fights easily but ultimately has more friends than anybody else in his psyche. He's the only one with different pronouns in the psyche using she/her and he/him. Here's her pfp!

Soul's name is Piper. When he was a puppet his name was Wander. Wander was much more active in chat and had a few friends but Piper mostly keeps to himself and doesn't talk much now. When he does talk he's mostly pretty awkward. Here's his pfp :)

Finally there's Whole also named Snare. He is not active in chat at the moment due to being murdered (he's fine). However when he did talk in chat is was mostly arguing with people. Pretty much everybody hates him. Anyway, here's the shithead himself.

Not too long after that Snare found out that Wander and King were off their strings and took Wanders memories before restringing the two. He took interest in the chat and had Dove keep an eye on it, acting like a spy, while he wasn't there.

Now onto the general stuff they've been up to.

Wander joined first and it was a lot of just him and King chilling and talking to people. I believe the first important thing that happened was King becoming friends with MP Heart, otherwise known as Elm, when he joined chat.

The chat clearly reacted poorly to this, especially Elm who ran off and caused quite a problem. Which lead him to being chained up in Stein's (MP Whole ofc) house.

Ennui eventually talks to Dove and mostly gaslights him into having some self worth lol. This conversation lead to Worm (A Heart made by Kai) sending Snare some unfriendly drawings. Which got Dove's phone taken away. Dove was upset by this and due to Ennui's gaslighting friendliness Dove decided to escape his cage and free King because he wanted somebody to talk to. King had the idea to made them a place to hide from Snare that they could put Dove's phone in so they can continue to use the chat.

When King returned to chat he heard that Elm had gotten hurt so he messaged Stein to try to help. Stein told him that Elm had cut off his hand trying to make a doll replica of King. So King removed his own hand to send to Stein hoping Stein could use it as a model to make a prosthetic for Elm. Stein had been lying about the situation and was only looking for a way to make a prosthetic hand so he could use it to build a Mind who was named Galvan. Elm did try to tell King this but Stein would pull his hair any time he tried to type out the message.

King did get his hand back but he had to make another plan with Dove to blame Wander for it as well as the fact Dove's old phone was now gone. King got put back on his strings after having his hand repaired and Dove let him go again, as a part of said plan.

King spent most of his time in chat after that, now having some hope that the chat can help them get out of their situation somehow. He ended up involved in a chat about saving somebody from the SCP foundation. The chat wanted to have somebody send him a tazer and they volunteered Stein, who agreed. King tried to argue against it for Elm and Galvan's safety, he was mostly dismissed other than being told Elm could be sent to live with him in case of an emergency.

Not long after that Galvan and Elm got in a fight and Stein reacted by electrocuting Elm. After being oh so inspired by the SCP Foundation. King tried to be there for Elm and comfort him through it and was reasonably pissed at Stein. About two days later Elm and King decide it would be a great idea to test the receiver to see if Elm could safely come to the Encore psyche if the SCP Foundation does try anything. Which results in Elm sending himself to the psyche when he wasn't meant to. King wasn't sure if it would be safe to send Elm back so he let him stay until Stein tested to see if the transmitter would be good to send Elm back. It didn't take long for Snare to find the two which quickly became a problem.

Snare attempted to tie up Elm with strings and Elm freaked out and hit his head into a wall trying to pass out. King had been hiding in Elm's pocket because Snare entering the psyche was causing him to have a panic attack but he climbed out to check on Elm after he got hurt. King got strung up and Elm got locked away in the Encore's storage room.

Wander's strings came undone because of this and he met Elm and freed him from the room. He also tried to free King but King didn't want to be freed worrying things would get worse. When Snare returned to the psyche he decided to turn Elm into a plushie to be easier to manage. Seeing Elm as a plush sort of caused King to have a breakdown, being worried that Elm had also lost his memories or was going to. Elm calms King down and Snare leaves the room, being made uncomfortable by the twos friendship.

When Snare returns he makes a deal with Elm that if Elm cooperates with Snare attempting to take his memories, he would leave King off his strings. Of course because Elm isn't a member of the psyche taking his memories doesn't work. Yippee!

Speedrun time: Dove's a bitch, they go to find Wander, Wander's missing, Elm takes a nap, Wander find them, they talk for a while, Wander runs off again, King naps, Wander shows back up with Dove, Dove and Wander play some games till King wakes up, the group plays games together, Dove and Elm get in a bit of a fight so King takes Dove back to his cage and talks to him, King comes back and has Wander sleep, and him and Elm take another nap.

While the three were asleep Snare returns to the psyche. When Elm wakes up he decides to go talk to Snare and King goes with him. The conversation is sort of ok and Snare sends Elm and King to go get Wander for him. They listen and bring Wander back to Snare , Snare uses the moment to attempt to make King string Dove and Wander for him. King refuses so Snare strings his hands to force him. Elm tries to stop him by rolling a stool at Snare so Snare uses his strings to retrain Elm squeezing him in the process.

Once Snare gets King to string up Wander the blue strings from King began infecting Snares golden ones. Which caused Snare to freak out and leave the psyche, freeing Elm. Being forced to String Wander caused King to disassociate which worried the others. Again more talking and a nap from Elm later Dove suggests King use the strings again. King says no at first and Dove yells at him until the other two agree with Dove, pushing King to try messing with the strings. As soon as he does the blue strings begin to take over the psyche and Snare comes back freaking out and threatening the group.

Heart turns human again first and King and Elm go to see what happened after he falls off Snare's desk, breaking it. Pal and King have a little reunion and Elm leaves again to continue having a moment in the other room until he passes out. Pal, King, and Piper talk a bit and catch up while King's strings basically destroy the theatre. Paladin and Piper bring King back to the house after finding it in the void again and leave him in his room. They take a moment to try to calm King before going back out to get Elm. Elm and King talk a little bit before falling asleep again in his room, Elm sleeping on the floor.

Snare threatens to put Elm back in the transmitter, King panics at that still not knowing if it would be safe for him to go through it. The strings in response turn Elm back to how he normally is and he murders Snare. Yeah remember when I casually mentioned that earlier? Anyway. Snare gets murdered for his crimes and King and Elm go cry on the floor together for a bit after the strings turn King human again.

From there they decided to have Elm live with them and they've all mostly been just trying to get better after everything. They recently changed the house to be better fitting for Elm and to give him his own room. Pal and Elm have been working on becoming friends, King has just been trying to enjoy life, and Piper has been rotting away in his room writing music.

That should be all for this post. There's a bunch of other things that have happened or are happening but this post can't go on forever. There may be more updates in the future, but for the time being, take this heights ref I drew of the guys!

[starmanskywalker]

knowing me, knowing you • anakin skywalker x reader

ayyyyy here's the wip i was talking about !! 🤠 synopsis: modern!au, cop!au. you and Anakin are assigned a mission that forces you both to come to terms with the past.

first of all: acab. second of all: everything i know about police hierarchy, guns or laws is what i learned from brooklyn nine nine and wikihow lol please take this for what it is: filth with (confused) feelings ❤️

as always, +18 only. and my askbox is always open for new prompts.

tags: exhibitionism, drug use (not by the main characters), shootings, violence, unethical + totally unrealistic shooting lessons, tough breakups, undercover cops doing very shady things, this doesn’t have the happiest of endings, i kinda miss songfics and you can tell by this work

word count: 4.821

You nervously fiddle with the fragile fabric of the flimsy, short shiny dress you wear under your oversized fake fur coat as your Uber drives to the nefarious destination of that night’s mission. You notice the driver shoots you some glances as if to coyly tell you he knew what your job was, when in reality, you knew he didn’t know shit.

The anticipation that bubbled in your stomach had nothing to do with the place you were about to go or the people you were eventually supposed to arrest, but instead it had to do with who was supposed to arrest these people alongside you. Captain Windu was quite kind not to assign any missions for the both of you since the incident, but according to him, no other profiles fit the assignment as well as you and Detective Skywalker’s.

Bullshit. You knew this was Mace’s way of making you overcome by force whichever discomfort still left by your and Anakin’s breakup and putting a halt to the fruitless and neverending bickering sponsored by the precinct’s once dream couple every time someone paired you in anything together. Since you two parted ways, work life with Skywalker became unbearable to the point you considered asking Mace for a move, something Obi-Wan, your precinct’s sergeant, vehemently discouraged you to. You eventually gave in and stayed, colleagues eventually learning not to put you in the same room except in full-team briefings, but you could tell Mace was tired - no, exhausted - of dealing with whatever was going on between you.

The script’s fairly simple: you, the new girl at the Zygerria nightclub, will catch Lars' - Anakin’s - attention, who will try to negotiate with your target (who goes by Jango Fett, according to the investigation) for a night with you using a shit ton of state-owned cocaine as his hand in the deal. Of course this was far from a one night only operation because Lars had to earn their trust, and so did you. You got in your best shape in years, actually learned to pole dance, do a mean routine to N.E.R.D’s “Hypnotize U” and survive inside of a very female-unfriendly place/business; all while reporting your progress to Obi-Wan at the end of the day.

Again: the fact that this night was decisive for the sting didn’t bother you at all. This was far from your first rodeo and your reputation in the precinct preceded you. The fact that it relied so much on you getting that intimate with Anakin after all that you’ve been through is what does.

Seeing him still emotionally and physically hurt, despite the many months that passed since your relationship ended. You haven’t fucked anyone else since (which definitely wasn’t his case, judging by how cozy he was with Detective Amidala lately), and you felt like it genuinely ruined you in the matters of romance and flirting. Not that you were particularly good at it from the start, but loving Anakin was easy, inevitable. You weren’t actively searching for it, or anything really, yet he found you and struck you like lightning; leaving permanent bolt-shaped burns in your skin as the electricity and warmth gave place to resentment and mutual isolation the moment you realized you had totally different perspectives for your futures and Anakin was selfish and petulant as a child.

The car arrives at Zygerria. You take a deep breath and exit the car unceremoniously, after tipping the driver generously even if he wasn’t the warmest - that’s precisely what you needed on a night like this. You arrive way more quietly than you usually do, attributing your slight change of demeanor for your closest girls and bartenders to a bad breakup.

Which was kinda the truth, to be honest.

You store your purse and coat in one of the lockers before fixing your makeup in order to look irresistible for the men and occasional women that occupied the nightclub’s lounge - or perhaps for the one man in particular you hoped that night was as hard for as it was for you. The fabric barely covering your skin, despite being very light and allowing the wind to blow all over your body, accentuated your curves beautifully and bore within its confines the promise of showing more than it should every step you took. 

As you walk around the lounge, you gently and charmingly dodge eager bystanders, their touches and their beckonings as you look for Lars. You wonder what he smells like tonight - his “special evenings” perfume, maybe? The one that penetrated your skin and your senses like a tattoo every morning you woke up by his side? 

How is that in any way an important question to ask yourself, anyway?

After spending the time you did with the other girls, you can’t help but think of how much of a lovestruck, abandoned-by-her-businessman-lover stripper vibe you’re giving out through your behavior. But you were a woman on a mission. Literally. You look for him furtively and in every corner of the room your eyes can reach.

The moment your eyes reach his you can notice him getting steadily into the character. You’ve met many Anakins throughout your personal and professional life, having not met Lars yet makes the pit inside your stomach grow a few inches wider in anxiety. You stride towards the bar and ask for a Moscow Mule in order to calm your nerves as he walks towards you.

What killed you a bit too about doing this with him again was the fact that Anakin was so fun to work with in operations like these. He tried new accents all the time and succeeded in using them, he was always experimenting with makeup, wigs… he was a master of disguises and you could always tell this was an aspect of the job he particularly enjoyed. This time, though, he was barefaced expect for the fact he covered the scar that crossed his eyes; he opted for a shorter, clean-cut haircut that, paired with a very fucking expensive and precisely tailored designer suit he was wearing, exuded power and money to every other human being that got the opportunity to shoot him a look, which every other girl did take. 

Before they could have the chance to swarm him like moths, he reaches you with that smirk of his, which you felt wasn’t exactly real. This thought shouldn’t cause you the pain it still does. “Hey, darling.” Slight Scandinavian accent. Of course, Lars is a very Scandinavian name. His voice was slightly deeper than you remembered. Needless to say, it’s been a while since you heard his voice given that you’ve grown distant, choosing silence over animosity as the circumstances surrounding you gave you exactly what you thought you needed: space. You couldn’t tell if he deepened his voice on purpose for this role or if his cigarette habit came with a vengeance since you broke up with him. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

“Hey,” you did your best to keep up with him. You were no Viola Davis, but you did your best. “How’s your night going, Mr…”

“Sjöberg. Lars Sjöberg.” He takes your hand in his and places a gentle kiss in it. You can feel time freeze and sparks fly around your characters. “To be honest with you, I think I could use better company to spend it with. You seem just perfect. What's your name?”

“I’m Mel.”

“Short for Melanie?”

“The word for honey in many languages, actually.”

“I see.” He chuckles. After he asks the bartender for a glass of whiskey, he whispers in your ear: “I know you taste just as sweet.”

You blush furiously at his choice of words, especially his picking of “I know you taste just as sweet” over “I guess you taste just as sweet” in a scenario like this, and you can swear that for the first time in years you could hear his accent falter in the middle of a mission. It was just for the authenticity of your reaction, you remind yourself. Thankfully the Moscow Mule arrives just in time for you to swallow some large gulps before you answer your fellow detective: “Our club overlooks a lot of things, Mr. Sjöberg. But in order to find out how I taste, you gotta see how I move, first. And reward me generously for it.”

The distance between your bodies becomes smaller too quickly for you to register precisely how, and you now feel his warm breath on your neck. “I’ll take whatever you're willing to give me”, he mumbles, before leaving the naughtiest and most discreet of kisses in your skin. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Shit. You almost forgot how smooth Anakin could be sometimes. You down the rest of that liquid courage before your perfectly manicured nails trace his chest seductively:  “Want to go somewhere more private?”

-

Anakin’s legs are splayed wide over the lavish, purple sofa of the VIP room alcove. He holds his drink firmly with one hand as the other rests in his thigh; his expression enigmatic while you give him a lap dance to Chloe x Halle’s “Ungodly Hour”. You adjust your choreography to surreptitiously communicate with him, your moving body dangerously close to his. He swallows thickly at the proximity.

“Where did you place your gun?” He whispers, one finger gently moving a lock of your hair out of the way in order for Lars to get a better look at your glimmering chest.

“Precisely where I’ll need it to be when we’re there. I know this place from the inside out by now.”

His unoccupied hand traces your waist and your back in a featherlight caress. You shiver at the familiarity of it. “Good. I don’t feel like making a spectacle of Jango’s arrest tonight. Ideally, everything will happen very swiftly.”

“Oh, it’ll be a spectacle from start to finish, Mr. Sjöberg. Specially if we fuck it up. How many briefings did you miss in order to spend more time with Amidala?” You ask him with a bit more venom than necessary – your entire question didn’t have the necessity to be made, actually. You just let it out out of spite. 

In order to distance yourself from his touch but also make sure you weren’t being heard, you peek out of the alcove. No burly men in sight. You take a deep breath before returning to your routine.

Anakin dodges the question and your unnecessary (?) bitterness. “What do you mean we can’t make it discreet?”

You huff in annoyance at his lack of preparation. “We can, but I told you plenty of times that Jango's room is full of his own bugs from the floor to the roof. We’ll face an entire army if we’re not cautious enough, and we’ll have to entertain him in order to get what we need.” 

“Do we even have the backup for this?”

“Of course we do! Plenty! Do you think I’m an idiot? And do you even remember what we’re supposed to do to get him to do what we want?”

It’s true what they say about breakups: you tend to only remember the nicer things in your relationship whenever the yearning hits. Well, you were just reminded of one thing that was deeply annoying about Anakin and working with him: he was too sure of himself to stick or pay attention to plans. His silence is the answer you need. “Fuck, Anakin.” Your face wrinkles in irritation. “The moment we go there and you make your bid for me, he’ll probably ask me to give you a trial. We’ll then give him something to look at - he’s a perv. He’ll love that.” 

You sit on his lap and unabashedly grind against him to the rhythm of the song - knowing he’s unable to do anything about it, that’s the best way you can find to get your revenge on his recklessness all while teasing what’ll come further in the night. And it’s surprisingly on character too. 

The breath that rushes from Lars is a sharp one; you can see how his pupils dilate, hear the pattern shift in his breathing. He palms your hips in order to keep the movement steady. “Just like that.” You moan, already disarmingly wet by the indirect and clothed friction of his already rock-hard cock against your pulsating clit. “He’ll turn all systems off because he’ll want the sights and… and sounds all to himself,” you explain, both of your bodies quickly overtaken by the desire you two still have for each other. “And he’ll excuse his men from the room.”

“How do you know that?” He groans and you feel his grip on your hips tighten.

“I just do,” you limit yourself to answer. “Unlike some, I do my research.”

And just before you get to the point of no return, one of Jango’s henchmen arrive to pull off the brakes in your interaction, making you briskly get off Anakin’s lap. Skywalker tries to hide his crystal clear excitement at having you on top of him after so long. “Sir, sorry to interrupt, but if you want to play, you’ll have to pay.”

“‘f course,” he answers, trying to recompose himself. “I do want her for a night, Rex. Can we arrange that?”

“Always, sir.”

-

“Good to see you again, friend.” Jango Fett greets Lars with a wide smile on his face and an enthusiastic handshake. Judging by how reserved Fett usually was, you deduce Anakin did a great job at making Jango warm up to him. Or, like many men in this world who only love women in a certain kind of way, he was only able to show true affection for other men.

He takes his seat behind the lush marble table now separating him and his “Swedish” acquaintance. Anakin follows, taking the seat in front of him while you stand still in one of the corners of the [stereotypically, really] opulent room, close to where Rex and Cody also stood. You’re glad that on your way to Fett’s “office” you got to fetch your coat again, because it was eerily cold too. “So you’re interested in my new girl.”

You found it fascinating how he talked about you as if you weren’t even there. Lars takes a good look at you as if to make his point even more clearer. “Very.” 

Jango’s eyebrows raise in amusement. He thinks you got lucky. “Well, I do work with the finest product this city has to offer. Rates might be a little higher than you’d expect them to be. What price can you pay for exclusivity?”

Lars pushes a small bag of cocaine in Jango’s direction. “Purest you’ll ever come across.”

Jango opens the bag, collecting a small sample with a nearby key and snorting it with the precision of a pro. Judging by how hard it hits him, Lars is definitely telling the truth. “Shit. That’s fucking diamond.” Fett wipes his nose, stunned, leaning back against the chair with a sigh. “How did you get it?”

“I have my contacts.”

“How much?”

“88 pounds.”

“Don’t fucking play me. Just like that? All with me in mind?”

“I’ve had my eyes on Mel for a while.” Anakin beckons you to sit on his lap, keeping his composure flawlessly intact at the slightest hint of Jango’s cocaine-fueled change of heart. You stride towards him and follow his unspoken command. “All with her in mind.”

“That’s fair. Fuck, she’s one lucky bitch.” Jango fills a cup with whiskey and downs it fast, not bothering to think too much. Perhaps Anakin’s signaling of complete confidence helped here. Jango could smell fear and anxiety - he bragged over and over about all the undercover cops he dodged or killed. “Show him what you can do, baby. You're worth it.”

“How can I prove to you I’m worth the investment, Mr. Sjöberg?” You ask Anakin, your voice deviantly silky. 

“How about we finish what we started down there?” His voice is raspy with need. “Hey, Fett, care to give us a little privacy? Your men, I mean. Too crowded.”

“C’mon, a trial’s a trial. These men have seen way more scandalous things.” Fett scoffs, the chemical hyper confidence doing wonders to his system. Anakin’s eyes quickly meet yours in worry. “Do you mind watching, boys?”

“Not at all, sir.” Cody replies, his tone scornful.

“See?”

Welp, your thorough research just bite you beautifully in the ass. Anakin will probably give you hell for this.

“Is anyone else going to appear?” Anakin asks Jango, his hand caressing your leg while you see the gears in his head turning.

“Not unless you change your mind and want them to.”

“I don’t. Just to be sure.” Your colleague manhandles you so you can straddle him in front of the men. “C’mon baby. Think you can do this for me?”

“Of course. ‘s my job.” You reply, bending your knees slightly and straightening them again, rubbing up against the bulge in Skywalker’s pants, feeling your heart skip a couple of beats at the contact and at the fact that the three other men in the room are eyeing you just as hungrily as Anakin is.

As you sway your hips experimentally against his cock, the proximity allows him to feel you brought the best kind of protection with you inside your coat: your gun. A little more confident with the change of plans he’s designing in his head, he mutters, expecting you to understand where he’s getting at while his fingers coyly caress the weapon hidden in your hips: “Don’t be shy. Rex and Cody are probably wishing you took care of them.”

Jango chuckles. You answer, in a very low whisper. “Would you let me take care of them while you and Jango watch?” You indeed get where he’s getting at. 

“Sharing is caring. Think you really could do it?” Anakin felt himself growing harder in his own pants with each roll of your hips and he couldn’t deny that even though the real implication was that you were about to shoot these two men, the fantasy of seeing you ruined by them wasn’t one Anakin was completely against, but that’s something he’d keep to himself to his grave. The fact that you were doing this right now, and in front of such dangerous people nonetheless, was already too much to process. 

“Yes. But I want to give them a show first.” Understanding that you indeed needed them to be distracted - and this was a golden opportunity to give in to some of your most reprehensible kinks, too, because why not? - you press your face into his neck while he holds your hips tightly. This was all the incentive Skywalker needed to keep going.

Earnestly, you keep rolling his hips over and over again back into the bulge in Anakin’s pants, eliciting escalating moans from him. He motions for you to stop your movements and before you can reach the small gun you have on you, he asks you: “May I?” Motioning to move your very delicate panties away from your core.

He wanted to fuck you in front of them before the arrest took place. Claim his territory.

He was having way too much fun with this. And fuck it - so were you. 

“Anything you want, Lars.”

You help him to free his dick from its fabric confines without leaving him completely naked from the waist down - your big ass coat sizeable enough to conceal his reallocation of his gun - and you tremble above him as he drags the tip of his cock against your pussy. “Fett, fuck, can everyone listen and see what’s going on here? Now that I mind.” He feigns worry. 

Shit. The bugs. You were so drunk with lust you almost forgot about them. So hypocritical of you.

“No, Lars.” Anakin notices Fett pressing some buttons and he hopes he turned his microphones and cameras off. “Sorry about that. Go on. No one but us can see or hear you now.”

“Thank you. Three's already a crowd.” Skywalker sighs, basking at the sight of the trail of wetness leaving your fingers as you accommodate him a little better inside of you. You lowered yourself on his cock pornographically, a very indecent moan escaping from your lips as a result of you two finally joining in one. Anakin shoos you. He missed seeing himself disappear in your welcoming, dripping cunt; you took him so well even after all this time.

Your lips freeze in a silent ‘O’ and your eyebrows tighten as you adjust to his considerable size once again. “You’re so fucking tight, princess. Take your time.” His lips hover over yours in a silent promise of a kiss as he turns a loose strand of your hair away from your face in a gentle gesture. You reach his mouth, fulfilling it, and after a lustful swirling of tongues that leave you lightheaded, you bite his lower lip playfully as you slowly start to ride him and the uncomfortable stretch gradually gives place to mind-numbing pleasure.

“Fuck, Mr. Sjöberg,” you sigh, pleasure heightened at the sight of Rex and Cody palming themselves to the vision unfolding in front of them. “You feel so good.” And God knows you truly meant it. After he teases you just enough for you to remember his size, both of his hands cup your asscheeks so he can fuck you deeper and properly, making you gasp at the adjustment of pace. You bury his face in your neck once again so you keep yourself from getting too loud at the heavenly invasion his cock is bestowing on you.

Your nails press against his tanned skin in a quiet plea to just keep going. While you feel the grasp you have in the situation is slipping away, you couldn’t have asked for a better way to lose control. “Listen,” he struggles to whisper between ragged breaths as your walls stimulate him for all he’s worth. “I wanna try something. Put your hand back where it was, love.”

“Okay,” you answer, a bit unsure of what he’s trying to do while you wrap your fingers around your gun again. It’s hard to think clearly when you’re as cockdrunk as you are. You could even be afraid that Jango and his cronies would be suspicious of the dialogue between you and Anakin, but given how concentrated they were in how your bodies clashed against each other in a desperate pursuit for release, you doubted they were going to do something about it. “Alright.”

“Remember our practice in California?” He lowers his whisper even more in order to make sure he’s not being heard clearly; for them to think his words are sweet nothings only as he buries himself inside of you again and again. It couldn’t be further from reality. “Put it to good use in 5…”

Ah yes, the time you and Anakin got sent to arrest Asajj Ventress.

You missed 12 shots before you got lucky enough to get your hands on her. She was your first higher profile arrest, though far from being your brightest. 

Anakin, still your boyfriend at the time, promised he would rent a shooting range for an entire weekend just for the two of you. You felt a bit humiliated at first, but you knew it was necessary; he was the kindest at suggesting it and making his promise come true too, which made it easier for you to accept.

“4…” You’re scared shitless of the fact that you aren't able to do much more than take him, moaning out every time he pushes into you again. Whining at the loss of him when he pulls back. How the fuck were you supposed to incapacitate Rex and Cody?

“The most important thing along with being steady is to focus regardless of what’s going on around you or with you. Allow me to demonstrate.”

Of course there was a reason he wanted the range just to have the two of you in it. 

Anakin Skywalker slowly worked your pants and panties down your thighs, spreading small kisses over feverish, eager flesh. By the time he had you trembling in anticipation and unable to keep his eyes off his, and before he buried his face between your legs, he gave you a devilish smirk. “Eyes up. I need you to be focused.”

“3…” You tried hard to piece two and two together while feeling the wetness between your thighs and hearing the sweet slick sounds of his cock moving so easily inside you.

You obey, sighing at the subsequent contact of his tongue and talented lips against your soaked cunt. His movements were experimental, unhurried yet immensely powerful. A drop of sweat slid down your face as you picked up your gun, keeping your finger outside the trigger guard, extended straight and flat on the side of the guard. “Ready,” he croaks between drags of his tongue against your most sensitive spot. You hold your weapon in the firing-ready position, nodding to yourself in reassurance.

“2…” Heat and the musky, spicy scent that is pure Anakin surrounds your senses. Pressing against your chest and filling your nose while his filthy words fill your ears like an overwhelmingly good version of white noise.

“Steady,” His warm and wide hands grasped at your asscheeks as he kept laving over your clit just fast enough to bring you steadily closer to climax, making your legs part even wider and your attention become even more split between the entity kneeled below you and the targets in front of you. You were unashamedly whining at the stimulation, resisting the painfully strong urge to close your eyes and let go. But you wouldn’t and couldn’t let him down.

“1…”

He pressed his tongue hard against your clit and dragged slowly upward, fingers digging into your butt to keep you skin tight close to him, and you came undone. 

“Fire.”

To your utter befuddlement, the target dummy was never shot with such precision.

Just like Rex and Cody’s shoulders. Anakin just came deep inside of you while pointing his gun at a completely fucked up Jango, whose post-nut clarity hasn’t quite landed yet. “Jango Fett, you are now under arrest.” He uttered through heavy breaths, giving you a chaste kiss before you got off his lap and fixed yourself as much as you could in literal seconds. Your legs are still slightly trembling as you stride towards the injured men, cuffing them with cable ties you also hid in your coat after you kick their guns away. You throw one at Anakin so he finishes the job with his past acquaintance.

After he finishes reciting Jango’s Miranda Rights and listing all of the charges that led to his arrest, he tells the man, not taking his eyes off you: “You were right about one thing, actually. She’s sure worth it.”

-

The shared ride home is eerily quiet - just like the rest of the aftermath. You expected more bickering over the things that could’ve went wrong: ifs, buts, but nothing came.

And you hated that even more. But as fun as the mission was, there was no turning back to what you once had. Everyone probably thought that the fighting was just repressed desire to go back to each other’s arms, and maybe it was, but it was also a lot of unresolved pain that made you crystal clear that even though Anakin made you happy in so many ways, you were like a wishing well to his bolt of electricity, like Fiona Apple once wrote. 

The words to her song Werewolf echoed repeatedly in your head.

We could still support each other, all we gotta do is avoid each other. Nothing wrong when a song ends in the minor key.

“What did you do in order to earn their trust and admiration like that?” Anakin’s voice breaks after a considerable time of not using it. 

“What I had to do. Why do you care? We got the job done.” You answer apathetically.

He sighs, keeping any further words to himself.

“It was just a job.” He states, more in order to convince himself of that than to convince you. You feel like there’s more to come but you stop him dead in his tracks.

“It was just a job.” You answer in a reassuringly firm manner, grabbing your headphones and using sound to drown out the quiet.

[nordschleifes]

chapter two — moscow mule

➝ after two intense days, fernando decides to take his racing team to a tapas bar. charlie considers staying at the hotel, but something tells her that if she doesn't go, she might seem unfriendly. little does she know that that night will show her a completely different side of fernando.

➝ word count: 5,9k

➝ warnings: mentions of sexual harrassment, therapy session

➝ author's note: yeah, it will be a chapter a day around here. tagging @christianpulisic10 and @alonsogirlie as requested. enjoy!

Charlie felt a little uncomfortable as she followed after her colleagues down the cobbled street. It wasn't that she was the only woman in the group, or that they were going out drinking on a Tuesday; it was because of who made the plans to go out to a bar in Jerez de la Frontera. 

Fernando's invitation didn't surprise Charlie, given his attitude lately. Fernando, even beyond treating her with more respect than in their McLaren-Honda days, seemed interested in developing some kind of friendship with her. At first, she thought he was teasing her, the way he asked her so many questions. That is, until the previous Thursday. 

She was in her office at the factory, sitting at her workstation, drinking a cup of lemon ginger tea, and watching an onboard video of Fernando in Bahrain when she heard Fernando’s voice down the hallway. Charlie knew that he was coming over to the factory almost every day at that point for video and photo shoots for the marketing department, and for simulator sessions. 

Turning her eyes back to the screen, which showed Fernando making a wide line to avoid the raised curb at the apex of turn eight, Charlie took another sip of tea as she tried to ignore his approach.

— Hi, Charlie — he greeted her, leaning against the wall of her cubicle. His hair looked damp and was sticking up at strange angles. “He must have been in the simulator”, Charlie thought.

— Hi — she murmured, pulling her headphones down to hang around her neck.

— What are you watching there?

— Your race in Bahrain last year — Charlie said, setting her teacup down on the desk. He crouched down beside her, one arm resting on her desk.

— Cute cat — Fernando said. It took her by surprise, and she glanced over to him. His eyes were fixed on the photo of Ron that was pinned just below her race season calendar — I had one, once.

Charlie raised an eyebrow.

— You did?

— Yes, her name was Cleo. Linda liked cats and wanted one to keep her company.

— What happened? Did she die?

— Linda?

— Of course not, I'm talking about the cat.

— No, no, she's doing very well. She’s with Linda in — he paused for a few seconds — Argentina, I guess. Linda took her after we broke up.

There was a moment of awkward silence between them. 

— Do you miss her?

— Linda?

Charlie shot a sidelong glance at Fernando, making it obvious she didn’t care about his ex-girlfriend.

— Oh, Cleo. Well, a little, but deep down, I've always preferred dogs. More active, you know.

— Yeah.

There was another moment of awkward silence as Fernando continued gazing at the photo of the orange cat. Through Charlie’s headphones, the sound of the Renault engine drowned out the other conversations across the office.

— What's its name? — Fernando finally broke the silence.

— Its name?

— Your cat. What's its name?

Charlie pursed her lips, realizing what he was trying to do. He was trying to get close to her, create some camaraderie, or worse, strike up some sort of friendship. “This is just a dirty trick”, she thought, shifting in her chair.

— It doesn’t matter — she replied, dryly.

— But I told you about my cat.

— You mean your ex-girlfriend's cat, right?

— We adopted her together, so she was my cat too.

Charlie sighed, running a hand over her face before looking up at him again.

— Look, I was over here preparing your first race of the season, and you came over here bothering me about my cat. If you don't have any input on racing in Bahrain, I strongly recommend you go find someone else to bother.

— I just asked you your cat's name...

— And I can only imagine what you want with that, so please go bother the IT guys and let me get back to work.

Fernando sighed and stood up. He was staring at the cubicle wall again, but at a different point than before.

— Will you at least tell me your father's name? — he asked, pointing to the photo of her next to a man tinkering with a dismantled engine sitting on a table

— His name is Jamie. And he is not my father.

— No?

— He’s my grandfather. Now, go away.

Fernando pursed his lips and turned around, mumbling “have a nice day” as he left. Charlie put her headphones back on and tried to concentrate on the video she’d been watching again. However, her coldness did not cause Fernando to give up, quite the contrary. It seemed that Charlie's reluctance to interact with him made him try even harder to get closer to her, to breach the walls she’d put up for him. Little did Charlie know that he would eventually succeed.

It happened on a two-day trip to Jerez, Spain, for annual tyre testing for Pirelli. Fernando had taken the entirety of the first day of testing, while Lance would take the second. It was tiring to spend a whole day at the circuit, but Charlie thought it was better than alternating half-days like Mercedes had planned to. 

— Fernando — Charlie called, waving him over to the pit wall. He was talking to Edoardo, one of his physiotherapists, and made a gesture with his hand that looked like a phone back to him as he walked over the pit lane. He tied the sleeves of his green race overalls around his waist, leaving his white fireproof undershirt visible. Charlie couldn’t help but notice the way it was sticking to his skin. 

— Yeah? — he asked, causing Charlie to notice where her eyes were. She swallowed hard and scrambled to remember what she wanted to talk to him about, blurting out a question instead.

— Are there any problems?

He smiled.

— Well, my sister said she would be here to watch testing, but she missed her flight, so we were trying to get her re-booked to try and get her here this afternoon.

Charlie nodded, looking again at the computer screen in front of her, trying to find the telemetry that she remembered that she wanted to discuss with him. However, Fernando had other ideas.

— Do you have siblings?

— In theory — she muttered.

— What do you mean, ‘in theory’?

Charlie sighed and rolled her eyes.

— I have two younger brothers, but I think I've seen them two or three times in my entire life, so…

— You were raised by your grandparents.

Charlie glanced at him, a bit startled by how he’d deduced that. 

— How did you know that? — she asked quietly.

— It was more of a guess, since you have a picture with your grandfather in the office — he said, leaning his elbow on the pit wall’s rail — What about your father?

— I don’t know who he is — Charlie replied.

— But, how? — he asked. He sounded almost indignant at the idea — Your mother…

— My mother never told me who my father is, as she said that she doesn't like to “remember the mistakes of her youth” — she said, trying to tamp down the irritation in her voice — Now we can concentrate on your telemetry and not about who fucked my mother?

Fernando smiled like he was trying to stifle a giggle.

— As you wish — he said, resting his hand on his hip and turning his attention to the screen.

The day of testing seemed endless, with Pirelli technicians insisting that they test all available compounds and asking for feedback on their performance. The fact that Fernando was also in the process of adapting to the car didn't make Charlie's task any easier, because he also wanted feedback on the times he was doing and where he could improve his lap times.

However, after 130 laps and a rather uncomfortable journey back to the hotel, she was excited to have a shower, lie in bed, and read the book she had brought with her — an autobiography of an actress who discussed the relationship with her mother. It had been a suggestion from Hannah, her therapist, as a way for them to begin exploring issues surrounding Charlie's upbringing, and from what she'd read on the flight to Jerez, it was a very good place to start.

However, Fernando thought it would be a good idea to take the team to an authentic Spanish bar as a way for him to get to know everyone better. And, if she knew her colleagues, they would never turn down a chance to relax and drink, especially with a two-time Formula 1 world champion picking up the tab.

— And you, Charlie? — the driver asked, smiling — Are you coming with us?

— No, thank you.

— Why not?

— I just think there are better ways to enjoy my night than watching you get drunk with your mechanics and having to drag you back to your hotel at the end of the night.

He laughed.

— First, it's Checo who likes to get drunk, not me. But I understand the confusion, since we both speak Spanish and for you Brits, we are all the same.

Charlie opened her mouth to protest, but Fernando continued.

— Second, I'm pretty sure I don't need anyone to drag me back to the hotel unless they have a very good reason to. And finally, it seems like you need to relax. This is your chance.

— I'm fine, thanks — she murmured, looking out the window of the briefing room, crossing her arms.

— I can see that — he said. He clearly wasn’t convinced — We’ll meet in the lobby at eight.

As the group walked through the streets, following Fernando, Charlie ruminated on the fact that the driver seemed to know that she would change her mind and join the group in the hotel lobby. She’d prepared a lame excuse, and could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment, but to Fernando’s credit, he didn’t rub it in her face. All he said was that he was grateful that he had his entire team there. 

The procession squeezed its way down narrow streets, everyone chatting and laughing as they walked. Charlie condemned herself for not bringing a jacket or jumper, feeling chilled in the late February air. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Fernando led the group to a dark wooden door, opening it to let everyone else in ahead of him. Charlie glanced at the sign affixed to the wood as she stepped inside.

— Tabanco La Pandilla — she said softly. The scent of sweet wine and something that reminded her of the ocean filled her nostrils, and the interior of the bar reminded Charlie strongly of typical English pubs, though with undoubtedly Spanish features in the architecture and the decor. The walls were covered in vintage posters for bullfights and black and white photos from around Jerez, elegant handwriting in the corners of them indicating the place and date they were taken.

— Charlie — someone called out. She looked away from the photo she was poring over and she saw Raúl sitting in a corner — Come sit here.

As she approached the table, she realized that there weren’t many vacant chairs to choose from, since Mikey and the mechanics were already occupying most of them. Almost all of them, apparently, as she had chosen the one that Jimmy, the team’s social media admin, had already claimed. 

— That one is free — the mechanic said, pointing to the sole remaining empty chair.

It was the one right next to Fernando.

Heaving a sigh, she made her way over to the chair, settling down silently with a serious expression on her face. Charlie could feel Fernando’s eyes on her, which made her feel unsettled. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and looked at it in an effort to distract herself.

— You know it's not very polite to be on your cell phone when you're out with friends, right? — a male voice murmured beside her. When he looked up, he found Fernando with a small smile on his face.

— I was checking the time. 

— Do you have other plans later on?

— What if I do? — Charlie asked.

— I'm happy to keep an eye on the time so you can enjoy your evening — he replied, holding up his left wrist. He showed her the royal blue watch he was wearing, with a large square face, outlined in yellow. Inside, there were three bands in red, yellow and blue, which were the base of the hands, while all the black and silver internal gears were visible behind the face.

— A Richard Mille? — she asked. She would recognize his watches anywhere. When she was with McLaren, the brand signed a sponsorship deal with the team. It obliged all of the trackside staff to wear the watches given by them, a special model with the orange strap and black dial.

— Yes, RM 67-02 — Fernando said with a smile — Richard designed it exclusively for me, based on the colors of my helmet. We even partnered up last year and developed one based on the armor worn by the Samurai…

— It's awful — Charlie said, dryly, cutting him off.

— What? — he said, shocked.

— Let's face it, Richard Milles are terrible watches. They’re over-the-top, you can hardly read the dials, they’re huge and heavy on your wrist, and a lot of them look like children’s toys anyway, which, considering how expensive they are... They’re all flash and no substance. 

— I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to disagree with you...

— As always — she murmured.

— Richard's designs are well thought out and not at all cluttered, plus the colors are really nice and the size seems ideal to me.

— You never had to wear that awful watch he made for McLaren — Charlie replied.

— Of course I did. We all got one of those in 2017, don't you remember?

She was about to respond when one of the owners of the place approached the table. He was a middle-aged man with graying hair and a wide, excited smile on his face.

— ¡Bienvenidos a nuestro tabanco! ¡Es un honor recibirlos aquí! — the man said. Fernando smiled at him politely. 

— Les agradecemos por estar disponibles para recibirnos hoy — Fernando said — Tenemos muchas ganas de experimentar lo que tienes para nosotros hoy.

— Oh, estoy seguro de que les gustará lo que tenemos para esta noche. ¿Podemos empezar con las bebidas?

Raúl translated for the man — the owner, apparently — and everyone started to place their orders. After taking orders for a variety of beers and a shot or two of the famous Andalusian sherry, the man glanced at her.

— Y la señorita, ¿qué desea?

— He wants to know what you want — Fernando said.

Looking up at the man with the notebook in his hand, Charlie smiled.

— A Moscow mule would be excellent.

Suddenly, she heard laughter next to her.

— A Moscow mule? Charlie, you know you're in a tabanco, don't you? — Fernando said.

— Of course I do, I saw the sign.

— Then… You should know they don't have those kinds of drinks.

— What kind?

— You know, girly drinks.

Charlie clenched her jaw and pursed her lips, feeling rage creep up the back of her neck like a tingling wave under her skin. “Don't let him get inside your head”, Charlie recalled Lewis telling her. It was a mantra that she repeated sometimes when dealing with Fernando, a plea that she not lose control and slap him across the face.

But then, Fernando decided to provoke her one last time.

— If you don't know what to order, I can recommend a bar that's more to your tastes, one that has those kinds of girly cocktails.

Before Charlie realized what she was doing, she stood up abruptly and stormed away from the table, the protests of her colleagues becoming distant to her ears. Her throat felt tight and her eyes burned. Once again, he had disparaged her, calling the things she liked feminine, insinuating they were lesser, suggesting that she didn’t fit in.

As Charlie walked away from the bar, down the dimly lit street, tears began to stream down her face. She felt anger consuming her as she cursed at herself for not having some sort of comeback for Fernando, for not putting him in his place. She should have slapped him. Or even better yet, she should have called Mike and quit her job on the spot. She thought about what it would take for Fernando to be fired, realizing it would take something incredibly serious, nothing short of literal murder, more likely. 

— Stupid, stupid, stupid — Charlie muttered, as she continued walking down the street. She’d gone a fair distance before realizing that she had no idea where she was going. At some point she would have to get to the hotel. She glanced down at her phone, trying to open a map, until she walked into something.

She looked up from her phone and realized that she’d run into the back of a man, standing and chatting to two other men. They looked like they were in their twenties. They were each wearing jeans and puffer jackets. They were each holding a bottle of beer, and reeked of cheap cologne, booze, and cigarettes. As she stared at them, the man Charlie had bumped into smiled at her, but it was not a kind smile — it was a smile that made Charlie’s skin crawl and her stomach churn. 

— Miren lo que tenemos aquí — the man said, taking a swig from his bottle — ¿Estás sola, princesa?

Charlie took a step back and tried to swallow down her nerves. She had no idea what he said, or what to say in response. She knew very little Spanish, limited to a few greetings and how to count to ten, whatever she’d picked up from being with Carlos Sainz when he was with McLaren. The man repeated himself as Charlie visibly hesitated, stepping closer to her.

— ¿Qué es, princesa? ¿El gato te comió la lengua?

— Debe ser sorda, Pablo — the man on the right, with curly hair, said, with a laugh.

— No, ella puede oír. Me escuchas, ¿no? — he said, pointing to his ear. Charlie understood that it might be a question about listening, so she nodded, taking another step back — Ves, ella escucha.

— Pero no responde nada. Esa perra debe ser muda — the third man said, his voice deep and gravelly.

— Si es muda, mejor para nosotros — the curly-haired boy said, running his tongue over his lower lip — De todo modo, es hora del postre.

She could feel the adrenaline kicking in, making her feel hyper-aware of her surroundings. She wanted to run away, but she felt frozen on the spot as the men got closer, their eyes dark and sinister, murmuring things in a language she didn’t understand. She felt one of the men wrap his hand around her wrist, and understood what they wanted. Charlie knew she wasn't going to get rid of them until they got it.

— Vamos, princesa, no seas mala — the first man murmured, tightening his fingers around her arm — Si no, tendremos que utilizar la fuerza.

Fear had rendered Charlie unable to say anything. She couldn't scream, couldn't protest, couldn't call for help. With more tears streaming down her cheeks, she realized exactly what was about to happen to her, on some dark street in Jerez, all because she got into a fight with an asshole coworker.

She hadn’t expected this night — and maybe her life — would come to such a ridiculous and tragic ending.

— Cariño — she thought she heard someone say through the fog of dread that shrouded her mind. Her throat was getting tighter by the second, and she could feel a nervous sweat breaking out across her lower back — ¡Espérame, cariño!

The words seemed to have a repelling effect on the men who were surrounding her, their expressions startled as they watched someone approach behind her. "This is a trap, I’m so fucked", Charlie thought, gasping when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She was about to try to run before she realized who had been calling her name. Fernando stepped in front of her, his expression mixing relief and concern.

— Por favor, mi amor, nunca vuelvas a hacer eso — Fernando said, cradling her face gently in his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks — Nunca, nunca más. Casi muero preocupándome por ti.

He pulled her into a tight hug, nestling her head in the crook of his neck, cradling the back of her head with one of his hands. Wrapped in his arms, Charlie felt a whirlwind of emotions. Her confusion only grew when he whispered in her ear in English, requesting that she follow his lead and not say anything.

As the man that grabbed Charlie’s wrist backed further away, Fernando returned to run his hand through her hair, tenderly.

— Perdóname, mi ángel, realmente fui un idiota contigo. Pero no salgas así, sin rumbo. No sé qué haría si te hubiera perdido, mi corazón — he said, planting a kiss on Charlie's forehead before hugging her again, his hand resting on the back of her head — Gracias por encontrar mi novia. No sé qué sería de mí sin ella.

If the three men said anything in response, Charlie didn't hear them. As Fernando held her close, her face buried in the white sweatshirt Fernando was wearing, she forced herself to focus on the sound of his heart pounding against his chest instead. Being in such close proximity to someone she didn’t like was strange. It was even stranger to her that she wasn’t feeling annoyed, or even disgusted with such close physical contact with him. What she felt then, wrapped in his arms, wasn’t anger, but safety and relief. 

— Gracias, buenas noches — he said, before pulling away slightly to look into Charlie's face. She could feel that her tears had smeared her mascara — Vamos, cariño.

As Fernando led her down the street, still holding her hand, she felt like she was having some strange out-of-body experience. She was just a spectator, unable to act or intervene. Walking next to her, Fernando seemed to be talking on the phone with someone, but the way her pulse pounded in her ears stopped Charlie from being able to tell who she was talking to or what they were discussing.

— Necesito que vuelvas al hotel ahora. Por favor, no puedo explicar por teléfono. Charlie está bien, dile esto al resto del equipo y que se queden al tabanco y disfruten de la noche. Si, te espero. Hasta luego — Fernando said, before putting the cell phone back in the back pocket of his jeans — Are you okay, Charlie?

— Yeah — she replied in a whisper.

— I'm taking you back to our hotel, okay?

— Okay — Charlie said, finally managing to find her voice. She felt a strange, pleasant heat rising around her shoulders. It was a welcome relief in the chilly night air that prickled at her skin, even under her thick woolen sweater.

The rest of the walk to the hotel was a blur. Neither her or Fernando said anything. There wasn't much to say. She was still processing what had almost happened that night, all because she was unable to keep her anger in check, especially where Fernando was concerned. However, contrary to what she expected to feel, given the situation, she didn't feel angry with him.

The only thing she felt was guilty.

As they got to the hotel lobby, Charlie spotted Edoardo standing by the reception desk, looking at his phone. When he looked up and saw the two of them there, the expression of concern on his face changed to relief.

— Thank God you're here. Are you all right, Charlie? What happened? Can I help?

— Edo, I'll explain later — Fernando said. He cut himself off as soon she placed her hand on his fingers, which were still on her shoulder.

— I'm fine — she replied, her voice hesitant — I just need to go to my room.

— Do you have your key? Those guys didn't steal anything, right?

— It's in my purse — Charlie said, running a hand over her cheeks, wiping away her tears with the back of her sleeve. 

The three of them rode the elevator to Charlie’s room in silence. Edo helped her find her key card and Fernando stepped into the room first, giving a cursory check before signaling to the other two to enter. Charlie trudged to the bed and sat down on the mattress, still in disbelief over the evening’s events. It replayed over and over in her mind. She shook her head, as if it could physically eject the memories of the men’s sinister, knowing smiles and the rough hand around her wrist.

— Here, drink this — she heard Fernando say from in front of her. She opened her eyes, and saw him bent over, a soft expression on his face as he offered her a water bottle. Without protesting, she drank the water, realizing how parched her lips and throat were. Then, she propped the bottle against her leg and looked up at him.

— Why?

Fernando blinked, confused.

— Sorry, I don’t understand.

— Why did you run after me?

He sighed.

— My initial intention was to apologize and bring you back to the bar. But when I realized you were gone, I — he hesitated for a few seconds — I knew you didn't know the city and didn't speak the language, which, unfortunately makes you an easy target for bad people. I feared the worst, so I asked a guy that was in front of the bar which way you went and I followed.

— Why did you defend me from them?

— Because I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something bad happened to you.

— But it was my fault...

— No, it's not. It's my fault, Charlie. I'm the one who was giving you a hard time, and made you react that way. I apologize for everything that happened today.

She couldn't deny that there was sincerity in the way Fernando was speaking to her and looking at her. His eyes were filled with obvious guilt. “Maybe he is actually sorry,” Charlie thought, sniffling.

— It’s alright. I'll be fine.

— You will be, I'm sure — he said quietly, before getting to his feet — Well, I'll let you rest. You go back to England tomorrow morning with the team, right?

— Yeah.

— Excellent. But if you need anything, message me. You have my number on Whatsapp right? I know you don't have Instagram anymore since I...

— Oh, I still do. I blocked you — Charlie muttered.

He stopped for a few seconds.

— You blocked me on Instagram?

— After your third or fourth request to follow me — she replied quietly.

— Ah — Fernando said, trying to disguise his discomfort with Charlie’s admission — Well, you know how to reach me. Good night, Charlie.

— Good night and — she paused for a few seconds, her eyes locked with his — Thank you. Honestly.

Fernando looked at her for a few moments, and then smiled.

— It was the least I could do — he replied, placing a hand on Edo's shoulder. His physiotherapist also wished her a good night before following Fernando into the hallway.

When the door closed, Charlie let out a heavy sigh, realizing the tension that had built up in her muscles. Perhaps a bath would help cleanse her body, and maybe, her soul of everything that had happened that night. There was one thing she needed to do before she did anything else, though. 

Removing her phone from her purse, she unlocked it and logged into Instagram. Going into the search bar, she typed in a name and found the correct account immediately. So Charlie tapped the blue button and then the confirmation that popped up on the screen. Finally, she clicked the 'follow' button, dropping her phone onto her bed. “Maybe he feels better now”, she thought, as she walked towards the bathroom.

That night, her sleep was disturbed by nightmares. The next morning, Charlie woke up to the sound of her cell phone alarm feeling more tired than she had been when she’d gone to bed. However, she couldn't afford to stay in bed any longer, as she had to be at the airport in an hour.

The trip back to the UK was uneventful, and she took the opportunity to sleep during the flight. On the way to Northampton, she shared a car with Mikey and three of Fernando’s other mechanics, all chatting animatedly about the results from testing, and what their hopes were for the season.

However, Charlie couldn't think about sectors, telemetry or lap times. All she could think about the previous night, how Fernando had suddenly appeared from the darkness and embraced her as if she were the most precious thing in the world, and not someone he hated.

She sighed, deciding that this was something she’d need to talk about with Hannah.

Her session with the therapist had been scheduled for that Friday, late afternoon. Charlie started therapy in early 2016 as a way to deal with the anxiety she had begun to suffer from after a miserable season with Fernando and his constant haranguing and requests that she be swapped for another engineer.

However, she hadn't been Charlie's first choice, as she believed that a psychologist specializing in sports medicine could best help her. However, one session with the one that McLaren kept on retainer was enough for the therapist to tell her that her issues ran deeper than performance anxiety, and that he would recommend a colleague of his. Fortunately, his recommendation proved to be the right one for her.

— Charlie? — Hannah said with a smile. She was standing in the doorway of her office, with her curly hair tied up in a kind of bun and wearing an orange suit that looked vibrant against the dark color of her skin — Shall we?

— Yes.

After entering Hannah’s office and settling into the white armchair, Charlie dropped her bag on the side table. Then she took a deep breath as her therapist settled into the chair across from her.

— So it's been some time since our last session, has it? About 10, 15 days?

— Yeah.

— Then I think you have plenty to tell me. Shall we start with the book I recommended?

— Actually — Charlie said — I wanted to talk about my last trip.

— Oh, you had a work trip, right? Where was it again?

— Jerez — she answered softly.

— Is that in Spain? — Hannah asked, and Charlie nodded — Oh, I imagine that was quite interesting considering your relationship with…

— I'm not sure if interesting is the right word, Hannah — Charlie said quietly. 

— Did something happen, Charlie?

— Well, not during testing. That bit all went as expected. But later, the night after testing was done, Fernando invited everyone to go to a bar.

— Everyone but you?

— No, he invited me as well, and I went. It was one of those traditional Spanish pubs that looks like a basement, I can't really explain it. But he and I ended up arguing because I ordered a Moscow mule, so I left.

— You argued over your choice of drink?

— He said it was a girly drink, that they didn't have that kind of stuff in that kind of bar, and he kept teasing me, so I lost my patience with him. But, after I left the bar, I ended up getting lost in the streets and I ran into — she paused for a few seconds — Some guys.

Hannah nodded, waiting for her to continue.

— They were drunk, speaking Spanish, but you could tell what they wanted. They cornered me, and I couldn't scream or call for help — Charlie's voice cracked, her eyes filling with tears.

— Did they do something to you?

— No, they did not. They couldn't because… Fernando followed me.

The therapist raised an eyebrow.

— But…

— He said he asked a guy who saw me leave the bar which way I'd gone and he went after me. He arrived, put his hands on my face and then hugged me. Then he said something to the guys and managed to get me out of there.

— And then what happened?

— We went to the hotel, where we found his physiotherapist, Edoardo. And the two of them went with me to my room. Then, Fernando gave me water and told me if I needed anything I could send a message that he would do his best to help me. I thanked him, and he said it was the least he could do, because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something bad happened to me.

Hannah opened her mouth, as if to say something, but then closed it again, her expression thoughtful.

— And what do you think about that?

— About what?

— About Fernando's attitude.

Charlie pressed her mouth into a thin line, trying to organize her thoughts.

— Well, all of my feelings are kind of contradictory. I'm surprised, since he hugged me, kissed my forehead, kept his arm around me while we walked back to the hotel, tried to calm me down the whole time, I realized that he's not being as nasty as he used to be. It's like he’s putting in an effort on his part to try to have a cordial relationship with me.

— So you notice a change in his attitude towards you?

— Well, a little? — Charlie answered, a little uncertainly. Noticing Hannah's expression, she corrected herself — Okay, yes, the change is considerable.

— And how does that make you feel?

— I'm still suspicious, I don't believe someone can change like that...

— Charlie, you haven't seen him on a daily basis in nearly five years. People can change in that time, even more so in a volatile environment like your job. You told me yourself that you’d noticed how Daniel Ricciardo changed from his first to his second year at McLaren and how that affected your team as a whole.

— But Danny never stopped being polite to us.

— And Fernando isn't being polite?

— Well, he is, but...

— Charlie — Hannah interrupted her — Have you ever thought that maybe your perception of Fernando might be changing?

— What do you mean?

— When we started our sessions, one of the first things we explored was your relationship with him. You were 27 years old, you were starting to become more established in your career and you were particularly disappointed because the driver you were excited to work with and thought was handsome was an asshole. But, I don't think you ever stopped to think that maybe he was disappointed too.

— Hannah…

— The point is, you're not the same now. You're 33 and he's over 40, right? You both have grown and matured. You’ve dedicated yourselves to other projects and dreams, as well as personal goals.

Charlie remained silent, trying to concentrate on her breathing.

— Just like you sometimes don't recognize that woman from 2015, who cried hiding in the paddock after Fernando said something rude, maybe Fernando doesn't recognize the guy that was yelling about GP2 engines and looking like an amateur — the therapist said — And that's okay. What I mean is, are you able to recognize that he is no longer McLaren Fernando, and are you open to meeting Aston Martin Fernando?

Charlie looked down at her hands, contemplating Hannah’s question. It was true that the Fernando she knew now was not the same Fernando she’d met in Woking. He was no longer the driver looking for a second chance in an older team, nor was he the frustrated veteran not given the proper tools to achieve his goals, but someone more mature, with more experience and, more than anything else, still hungry to win.

Just like her.

— I think I am.

[altocat]

Hehe, I'll be bold today.

Can I read headcanons about Angeal in a romantic relationship? For myself :3

angst during CrisisCore time are welcome!

I'm such a strange person ~

Always room for a bit of Angeal!

Angeal has an active indoor garden he tends to. And while most of it is harmless plants for the sake of decoration, he might try his hand at fresh flowers, if only so that he has something he can bring to his s/o every now and then as a gift.

Angeal is very active, though he isn't AS hyperfocused on maintaining a set schedule as someone like, for example, Sephiroth. So while he has a lot of chores and responsibilities, he'll gladly switch things around to spend time with his special person.

Cooking for his person is MANDATORY. Angeal is constantly shoving food at them, asking if they ate, if they want a snack or some dessert.

Angeal snores and is extremely embarrassed by it. He buys his partner special nighttime earbuds out of shame. That's the tradeoff for bedtime cuddling.

Angeal is a dog person and, unfortunately, has a bit of a cat allergy. BUT with that said, he will tolerate his partner's cat as much as he can. The man is a pile of runny eyes and snot, all while giving you a thumbs up.

Angeal can occasionally be a frugal asshole, but that's only because of his impoverished upbringing. He's scared of spending money because he wants to make sure it's always there for an emergency. His partner has to coax him little by little into using it for some actual fun.

Speaking of his background, Angeal likes to bring his partner home to meet his mother every now and then.

Talking about his dead dad is....hard for him. Angeal loved him more than anything and it was the death of his father that inspired him to follow his code of "dreams and honor". He never brings up his father to his partner, and whenever it DOES come up, Angeal gets kind of teary about it. More gentle coaxing is needed. He's still not completely over it.

Angeal's #1 house-rule is that if Genesis is at your doorstep, DO NOT ANSWER THE DOOR. Under any circumstances.

Sephiroth is allowed inside, though he's not great company. He mostly just acts cold and aloof around any of Angeal's romantic partners, detached and unfriendly.

Zack is to be trusted, but also monitored like a grabby toddler. You never know what he's up to. And Angeal isn't taking any chances.

[artbyfinnbrown]

Screenshots of my favourite moments from Re:Zero Arc 7 (Part 1):

Todd, it’s chapter 7. You don’t even hate Subaru yet. Why are you already talking about things that could potentially act as parallels to Return by Death?

This death (and the subsequent loops that follow) is probably my favourite sequence of Subaru deaths. I had to do a double take reading this when I realized that the words had started repeating. It starts so suddenly.

I love the O’Connell siblings. Nothing bad better happen to these to or I will be very upset.

“No trust me, I have to keep using the girl voice, it’s about staying in character” Sure buddy, whatever you need to say to feel better about yourself.

So I know this is meant to be screenshots of my favourite arc 7 moments, I guess this is also screenshots arc 7 moments that just make be feel sad and go “Aw, Man”

Wow, Subaru, you’re weirdly into making sure your boobs seem real. I wonder if that means anything.

Priscilla is weirdly one of the characters that seems to be most okay with Subaru’s crossdressing. She’s still mocking him, but she’s not mocking him for crossdressing, she’ll mocking him for being Subaru. She basically says “Yeah you’re a pretty hot woman. Unfortunately, I know your true cringe nature, so your good looks have no effect on me”.

Al. How many times did you die Al.

HA.

“I’ll fill you in on the correct information about Natsumi next time”. This implies that Subaru has Natsumi Schwarz lore that he actively maintains, which is incredibly funny (and also shows just how much dedicated he is to the Natsumi Schwartz persona)

Abel: Good that you’re here Priscilla. I assume you brought troopS with you to help support my cause? Priscilla: Nope! Just me and these 3 useless men I got to follow me around. Abel: Abel: Girl I am trying to retake a nation here-

I really like what arc 7 does with Priscilla’s character. Because arc 3 really just sets her up as an arrogant asshole. And arc 7 never disproves that, she’s still an arrogant asshole. But she’s an arrogant asshole who cares some very specific people.

On my first readthrough, this just seems like another instance of Subaru and Abel’s banter. However knowing everything there is to know now about Vincent and China’s relationship… yeah, it makes sense why Abel might not want people to talk about Chisa betraying him.

“Either is fine” She says. Okay sure thing buddy (Googles “What is Bigender” on a separate tab)

Damn Rem, I’m pretty sure killing him would have inflicted less psychological damage at this point. I do think it is interesting that despite being unfriendly towards Subaru for most of the arc so far, Rem does try to help him by trying to make him feel less guilty about not being able to save everyone. Unfortunately, she had no way of knowing that Subaru was basing a large amount if his self-worth off the belief that Rem thinks of him as a hero, leading this to backfire.

Those are some great questions about Al being brought up. Does he know about Return by Death? Does he have an ability like it? If He does, why wasn’t he able to prevent the loss of his arm? NOW IF ONLY HE WOULD GIVE US SOME ACTUAL ANSWERS-

I don’t know how to feel about the fact that horses exist in the Re:Zero world. I always assumed that Land Dragons just filled the role that horses did in this world. So that fact that there are actual horses feels kind of weird. I don’t like it . Unless horses have always been a thing in Re:Zero and I just somehow never noticed. Does anyone else think that horses existing in Re:Zero is weird? maybe it’s just me.

I mean, I could do an analysis on Natsumi Schwartz, but at this point I feel like Re:Zero tumblr has analyzed Natsumi to hell and back, so I don’t know if there’s really anything meaningful I could add at this point. I’ll leave it at this: At minimum he’s a Drag Queen, and at maximum she’s a trans woman, with the truth probably being somewhere in between those two extremes.

On its own this is nothing. The fact that Subaru says this right after the story refers to Natsumi Schwartz as Subaru’s “ideal self” is what really gives me the sad “Aw, man” feeling.

No Abel was right I don’t think that deserved a response.

AL GODDAMMIT HOW MANY TIMES DID YOU DIE THIS TIME YOU CRYPTIC MOTHER-

Anyway, expect part 2 of this post soon.

[elbiotipo]

Peronism is only particularly weird because Peron himself was basically just a fascist, it’s just that he wasn’t really able to govern as one because he was swept to power on the back of a worker’s movement and ended up fulfilling the tasks of anti communist social democracy

This is valid as a quick analysis, but as always, there is more nuance. I will try to add more, not in defense of Perón himself, but as for more context on this.

You are correct in the fact that it was Perón who was swept into power by the workers and not viceversa. In October 18 1945, it was the workers by themselves who marched to free Perón and eventually supported his goverments in the ballots and in the streets. One of the idiosyncracies of Peronism is its strong personalism, but I have always believed it's an inverted personalism, if that makes sense, where the popular movement projects and focuses its efforts on the figures of Perón, Evita and those who followed. If anything, Perón's rather convoluted ideological bases and poor decisions did not make for a coherent movement on itself, it was expressed in the collective movement of Peronism.

I will not attempt to argue that Perón wasn't inspired by or even admired Italian and Spanish Fascism. But he was not unique in the historical context of trying to create a "third position" between capitalism and communism. The difference between Peronism and Fascism, and the reason I think the two aren't the same or even really comparable, is that while Fascism emerged from war resentment and racial nationalism (Germany) the desire for colonial expansion and imperialism (Japan) or both (Italy), Peronism emerged from another perspective: from the anti-imperialist sentiment of a country controlled by foreign interests and an oligarchy that enforced the old colonial mindset (eurocentrism and racism, extractivism and the agro-exporter model, worker opression)

Contrary to the popular neoliberal vision of events, Argentina in the 30-40s was not a rich country; it was only for the oligarchy. Like everywhere else in the world, revolutionary movements were brewing; communism, but also fascism (as in extremist catholic and outright nazi movments), anarchism, and of course, the military arm enforcing conservative interests after failed attempts at reform by the UCR (who once were socialists, belive it or not). The Argentine working class was looking for someone to represent their interests after a century (centuries, if we count pre-independence). Peronism evolved in this context.

But why Perón and Peronism? Why not any of those other movements? Well, let's see the mindset of an average Argentine worker at the time. Many were deeply Catholic (worth noting that Peronism also included Jews and Muslims), and concerned about "atheist communism", which, you might dislike the figure of speech, but it was one of the main impressions of communism at the time. They were also, for the most part, discriminated by the oligarchy, either for their status of indigenous and african descent or as recent inmigrants, so they didn't sympathize with nazism or the ultra-catholic right either. Worker unions and movements were active in Argentina, but the years of dicatorship and previous unfriendly and ineffective goverments had undermined their power.

In this context, appears Perón, someone who supports unions, social justice and the development of the country, and whose movement for the first time tries to integrate and support the discriminated underclasses. He is considered both a patriot who stands up against foreign interests, but also someone who stands up to the oligarchic landowners. Not only that, but he has enough cred and power to actually enact what he does.

But this can't be done without the support of an organized popular movement, which the people provide again and again. And thus, Peronism arises.

Now, this all sounds rather counterproducent to socialism and communism, and it indeed it was, especially in Perón's later years, as the movement shattered between the far-right and the far left. Peronism is in many Argentina's version of social democracy, shaped by a violent, convoluted country and it fullfiled the same niche as in other countries: to prevent a violent revolution by conceding rights and benefits to the worker class. Only that in Argentina's complex history, it took a rather unique bent. Even today, it is undeniable that Argentina's working class and the core supporters of "the left" in other countries, in Argentina are peronists or sympathize with peronism, which has of now been identified with the left wing (but that's for another post).

Would have Argentina turned to revolutionary communism without peronism? Difficult to say. If it wasn't Perón, it might have been an actual fascist or ultra-catholic that might have taken power. It could have been a communist revolution, true, but it also could have been repressed in the cycle of military coups and weak democracies. I love alternate history, but it all would have depended on a lot of things one can't explore meaningfully. You can't change what has happened, in any case.

However, what does this mean for the future of socialism and communism in Argentina? Like I said, it is an historical and current fact that the Argentine worker class and unions sympathize by the most part with Peronism. The construction of any socialist or communism movement must deal with that fact, inevitably. How to do it? Well, se los dejo como tarea para la casa.

[theyareweird]

My Hero Academia: Denki Kaminari —Aesthetic

Stun Gun Hero: Chargebolt's Character & Personality

Denki is a student in Class 1-A at U.A. High. He's training to become a Pro Hero. Denki is a friendly, social and energetic boy who enjoys hanging out with others. He's quite casual when interacting with other people, including those who are generally unfriendly. However, Denki isn't above petty complaining or overreacting if he feels annoyed or shocked. He may come off as blunt and reckless at times, but is always well-meaning. Denki encourages others to be themselves and become more comfortable doing what they like. He's somewhat flirtatious towards girls, sometimes going along with schemes and trying to pass himself off as a smooth talker. Unfortunately, Denki isn't lucky with his approaches, frequently having his advances ignored or outright rejected by those he asks out. He's also a bit of a jokester and sometimes teases others with playful comments. Overall, Denki is interested in appearing cool and trendy to impress people but has a shallow understanding of how to do it correctly. Because of this, he's easily influenced by what's popular or stylish at the moment, even if it's due to villain action. Denki requires massive help with studying due to his general disinterest and neglect of school duties. He doesn't pay much attention in class, gets easily bored from lectures. Denki even suffers from anxiety when dealing with tests, where he becomes increasingly agitated and aggressive. Frequently lacking tact and smarts, he comes off as being stupid or foolish. Thus, others throw snide remarks at Denki or underestimate his capabilities as a hero. Despite this, he has surprising knowledge about specific areas like literature, art and music. As such, Denki has an extensive vocabulary which shows up now and then. Beyond this, he becomes distraught when in stressful situations. As a result, Denki will appear spineless and incompetent to everyone around him. During combat, he's swift to panic and may accidentally activate his Quirk in imminent danger, leaving himself vulnerable. Denki becomes reluctant to use his full power when allies are close to him, being afraid of hurting them through collateral damage from his explosive bolts. Yet, he becomes more confident in his fighting abilities when he's assured all his allies will be safe from his powers. Denki doesn't tolerate others looking down on him or his classmates and will defend them if necessary. Whenever he exceeds his wattage limit, he loses his ability to discharge energy. Additionally, Denki's entire personality changes into a giggling idiot for a certain period until he reverts to normal. In this state, he's always giving thumbs-ups as a way to let others know he's okay.