#honestly supporting rookies is like the best thing ever

[sitizelter]

my friends ask me who my favourite driver is and when i reply with logan they'd think im joking.

"oh you're serious?"

i am not kidding. this man is my life and my heart.

this man right here.

[queseraone]

Rank the episodes of season 6… 😈

This took me forever, because I had to go back and look at transcripts and watch clips for several episodes...

And being the insane person that I am, my ranking process involved giving each episode a grade for (a) the episode itself, and (b) the Chenford.

Fair warning, this is a loooooooooooooooooong post, but here we go (from worst to best, in my humble opinion):

6x10 | Escape Plan Listen, I hated this episode. Take out the Chenford content and it absolutely lands near the top of my list of most-hated episodes of The Rookie ever. Because it barely felt like an episode of The Rookie—it was a constant parade of villains. I don't watch this show to follow random bad guys, I watch for the characters I love. And we spent less than half of the episode with my people (one day I'll re-watch and keep track of the exact percentage). I haaaaaaate Monica (she's honestly like a cartoon villain at this point), and I still have no idea who the Big Bad is/was?? Could someone please enlighten me?

The Chenford scenes were about the only redeeming moments for me. Love, love, loved the return of our beloved Battle Couple™. I loved seeing them riding together (Chenford in a vehicle together is everything to me), and they had some great conversations that very much felt like small steps forward. But those small moments weren't enough to redeem an incredibly disappointing episode for me, so that's why this lands at the bottom of my list.

6x05 | The Vow This episode ranks low because nearly every plotline felt abrupt and forced. There wasn't much follow-up to previous plot (the Budny shooting was apparently resolved to the point that Lucy was okay with being gifted a reminder of a moment that had her breaking down the last time she was on our screens...), nor was there enough build-up to anything we saw. It very much felt like they needed another episode or two in between to fill in a lot of those blanks.

I liked the Chenford (or I guess the Tim and Lucy mostly) because it definitely packed an emotional punch (especially the scene when Tim shows up at her place and she turns him away), but the contrast between Lucy laying awake worrying about Tim and her almost comedic use in Aaron's storyline was jarring, like we were watching two very different versions of her character. We know she's damn good at compartmentalizing, but that felt like a stretch.

6x03 | Trouble in Paradise This one is tricky for me, because while I loved the Chenford in this episode (it included one of my new favourite Chenford moments!), the episode itself was a snooze. I give absolutely zero fucks about Nolan and Bailey, and spending a huge chunk of time following them on their snooze of a honeymoon is not it. I still can't tell you what happened on that island(?), I just couldn't get invested (also that was the least romantic/passionate honeymoon to ever happen). And we had very little of Angela, Nyla, Aaron, etc., so that was a bummer too.

Seeing Tim and Lucy riding with Celina was fun, the Chenford domestic moments were lovely, and it was so nice to see Tim being so supportive of Lucy through her detective exam and with the trophy (!!!!), etc. Great moments, but I just can't get past the dreadful A-plot of the honeymoon.

6x01 | Strike Back My biggest gripe with this episode was that it felt anticlimactic following the intensity of 5x22. Yes, they picked right up in the immediate aftermath, but it was lacking somewhere. I think because they did that time jump and seemed to leave that whole storyline in the dust until the end of the season.

There were things I liked and things I didn't like with regards to Chenford. This episode was a great example of the challenges that come from the transition from TO/rookie to sergeant/aide, to boyfriend/girlfriend. TO Tim and BF Tim are very different, and the lines got blurred a bit. I hated the sprinkler thing (that's not on Lucy or Tim, that's on the other officers, and that's the hill I'll die on), but the conversation at the end of episode was so intense, and that's exactly what I want, the show to make me feel things.

6x09 | The Squeeze I'm going to start this one off by saying (again)—it was Lucy's birthday. What in the Sixteen Candles!!!! This is a timeline fumble, even for The Rookie. In that opening scene at the apartment, I was fully expecting Nolan to open that pastry box and having cupcakes or something, so I was flabbergasted when they just blew past not only the fact that it was her birthday, but that she also spilled so many feelings and he was basically like “okay, cool.” Nolan is a terrible friend (if they can even be called friends at this point).

Moving past that... where the hell was everyone?! Tim wasn't in the second half of the episode, Aaron had all of four lines, Bailey wasn't in it at all... and yet Monica. was. everywhere. Ugh.

ANYWAY. I did love seeing everyone rally around Tim (even though it made it even more obvious when they weren't when it was Lucy going through a difficult time). And the highlight of the episode for me was the Chenford elevator scene. Watching Lucy clearly contemplating, then making the decision to follow him into the elevator—I love that she acknowledged how she was feeling, but still managed to set that aside and be there for Tim. What a showcase of her empathy. (But truth be told, she needed that hug just as much as he did.)

6x07 | Crushed I LOVE seeing them all working together on one case. The team dynamic is a huge draw for me, and it's definitely something they've moved away from in the last couple of seasons (a byproduct of moving half of them out of patrol). So that felt like a really welcome return to their roots.

I really enjoyed watching Tim and Lucy in the immediate aftermath of the breakup. Do I wish we'd seen Lucy opening up to someone other than Sgt. Grey? Yes. But more than that, I'm glad we got to see her processing. She's hurt, she's confused, she's angry, and she's earned the right to feel all of those things.

Dr. London read Tim like a fucking book, and his actions solidified that—this is just another example of the way Tim continues to delude himself into thinking everything's fine, when in reality it's absolutely not (ahem, lie detector scene). I'm really happy that we saw him pursue therapy of his own volition, not because it was department-mandated or because someone was requesting it. Recognizing that you need help is a huge step for anyone, but it feels particularly monumental for Tim.

6x02 | The Hammer What a fun episode! Was it the best? Absolutely not. Was it worthy of being the monumental 100th episode? Eh. But as a whole I really enjoyed this one! It started off strong with the return of “Daddy Cop”—HELL. YES. And I really enjoyed the way they carried plotlines early in the season. Th first few episodes flowed together quite well, and it really felt like it was spanning a handful of days. The group scenes (the bachelor and bachelorette parties) were a lot of fun, I really wish they'd do more of those! I actually liked Nolan and Bailey's wedding vows (it's probably the closes I've ever been to caring about their relationship). I was pleasantly surprised to see Henry again, though it felt like a waste to go to that trouble (on-screen and off) to not have a scene with him and his dad. There are a lot of other characters I would have preferred to see instead of Skip Tracer Randy (Elroy! Ben! Pete!), but I did love Grey's “Sit down, German.” 😂

And then the Chenford. Again, it flowed really well from their tense moment in the previous episode (I'm reluctant to call it a fight), and it was nice to see them navigating the aftermath of that, and then come back together at the wedding. The thing with The Hammer was ridiculous in the most TR way, so I enjoyed that whole interaction. The ring imagery was !!!!, but also feels a little bit cruel in hindsight, knowing where they were going with that relationship this season. But I'm going to stay firm to my thinking that they couldn't possibly be cruel enough to do that without actually making it happen for real one day. ANYWAY. I loved hearing them say “I love you” (though I still wish we saw the first ones), and the dance scene was, overall, wonderful. I loved that it was Tim approaching Lucy, the “it's about damn time” look on her face, the way they come together so easily, the way they look at each other... love.

6x08 | Punch Card Another instance of seeing the team working together, so that contributes to this landing high on my list. (The good parts outweighed the absolute absurdity of Nolan and Bailey seeking medical help when they've only been trying to get pregnant for about five minutes.)

It was fun to see Lucy as a TO. I've long thought that path could be a good fit for her, however I'm not on board with the idea of it being something she resorts to after not be able to pursue the career path she really wants... The show would never do it, but it would certainly be fun to see Lucy be an incredible training officer in parallel to Nolan doing a terrible job at it (no one will convince me that he's a good TO, he's awful). Regardless of the longer term intentions for this, it was nice seeing Lucy work with Celina and to see her kicking ass at it.

And then, of course, the Kojo scene, already such a favourite for me. Beyond seeing my beloved pup again, it was also such an important moment, for Tim, for Lucy, for Chenford. We've seen Tim put on this strong façade (as he always does), but this really shows the audience just how much he's hurting in the aftermath of Ray/the breakup. And it also lets Lucy see that Tim still cares, because until now, she's been more or less been operating on the assumption that Tim walked away easily. It felt so incredibly hopeful, and showed us just how deep their feelings run.

6x04 | Training Day There was a lot to dislike in this episode (Nolan saying the exact wrong thing to Lucy, Angela and Nyla not being as supportive of Lucy as I'd hoped/expected, seeing Lucy struggling post-exam results...), but there was so much to love.

I love Tim and Aaron working together, and Tim busting out a training acronym just makes me so damn nostalgic. And sorry not sorry, it was refreshing to see Nolan get called out (and face repercussions, however minor) for his ineptitude as a training officer. Because while, yes, Celina is a rookie and bound to make mistakes, like Nyla said, “as her TO, that is on you.” I know he's the main character, but I'll say it until I'm blue in the face—it's so fucking boring watching a character win over and over and over again. There's no depth there.

Lucy being an absolute badass was wonderful, and when I tell you my heart stopped when I heard that gunshot, my god. And that hospital scene??? What can I say but the hospital scene!!!!!! That was everything. Great music (*sidebar, they've made some really beautiful song choices this season!!), great to see Tim rushing to her side, and it was just the greatest of the great to watch him supporting her, the way she melts into him, how impeccably Melissa acted that scene... all of it was phenomenal.

6x06 | Secrets and Lies Oh god, what does it say about me that my favourite episode of the season was the one with breakup?!?! 😅 But seriously, the episode gave us alllll the emotionally intense moments, and I'm here for it. Loved the Tim and Angela scenes (my favourite relationship on the show outside of Chenford), loved Nyla working with Aaron again and seeing her dip her toes back into UC work, loved seeing Commander West(!!!!!) back.

Obviously the breakup (and the events leading up to it) was painful as fuck, but they did it SO well. Eric and Melissa acted the hell out of this episode, and it paid off in a big way. It was emotionally compelling and I felt (and continue to feel) so strongly about their scenes. They made it so easy to feel for both of these characters, and that speaks volumes. It hurts like hell, but it was so well done!

Whew, longest post ever! (I suppose I could just have gone 10, 5, 3, 1, 9, 7, 2, 8, 4, 6, but... that's boring!)

Again if I was ranking on Chenford scenes alone, things would certainly shake out differently. And even still, I could probably swap a few of these spots.

Thanks for the fun/exhausting question! 💗

[rags-writes]

Fandom: Call of Duty

Pairing: Ghost & Reader (Platonic)

Tags/Warning: Hurt/Comfort

Requested by @bombshe77

A/N: I really hope you enjoy it and thank you for requesting it. here it is on Ao3.

Summary: You're the youngest on the 141 squad, yet you've been with them for two years and they still treat you like a rookie. Hell, they still call you the rookie callsign but you don't let that bring you down. Then you go home and when you come back, you're different. That spark you had disappeared and Ghost is determent to get it back even if it means he actually has to talk.

Lean On Me

 Ghost always prides himself on seeing what others miss, in anything. Which is why he’s disappointed that he didn’t see your potential. Well, you were just a rookie and the youngest in the squad at that. No one expects much from you, but you did last longer than the other, but your call sign hasn’t changed from rookie or rook. Honestly, he saw you as a joker, like soap. Sure you did whatever was ordered of you, but you always made a joke or some smart-ass comment. You never seem to shut up, always talking up a storm after a mission.

 Luckily he never had to deal with you directly, mostly just overhearing convention, like now.

 “I can handle the package without a babysit.” You call over the headset, and your voice is light, yet there is an irritation to it.

 “Listen, rook.” Soap says, causing a groan to leave you. “We just want to make sure you don’t drop?”

 “We are sitting down and it’s in my pocket.” You sigh out, “Stop with the rookie call name?”

 “You got to do something impressive to get a different call sign, kid.” Price answers with a chuckle.

 “You mean dealing with Soap for two years isn’t impressive enough?” You shoot back, causing a wave of laughter over the plane and Soap shouts, ‘hey!’

 Even Ghost huffed a small laugh at the joke, no one heard, of course. And highly unlikely he would ever admit to it either. It was Gaz who spoke up next.

 “We can call you kid if you want.”

 You send a glare his way, growling out. “I’m only two years younger than you, ass.”

 Soap, of course, hop on the thought with, “maybe you like, tot or rug-rat.”

 Ghost sees your hand wave and rightfully assumes you're flipping off Soap. Someone calls out, “What about clumsy?”

 “O, come on,” you shout. He could hear your eyes rolling as you continue. “I drop one grenade, which was a dud, because it was a field test.”

 The plane erupts into another fit of laughter at the memory of you pulling the pin and winding up to third the grenade when it slips from your hand. You looked like a deer caught in headlights as it when off behind you. No one has let you have a moment of peace about it, one way or another it gets brought up again. Soon he begins to tune out the conversation as it goes on about different call signs for you.

 After getting to the base Ghost watch you head to Laswell’s office to drop off the thumping drive with Soap tailing behind you saying he was just there to give you support. that just made you try and swat him and walk fast, practically running to Laswell’s office to get away from him.

 Ghost’s eyes move off you as Price comes up to him and asks. “What’s the plan now, cap.”

 “We sit tight and wait for the intellect department to decrypt the thumb drive and we can figure the best point of taking down the network.”

 Ghost just nod and walk to his room and change her gear before grabbing thing from the mess hall. It was only a day’s wait before they got word on the thumb drive and unfortunately the best time to strike the network was in nine weeks when most if not all the drug lords would be meeting. They decide to let everyone have a month to go see their family before the mission. Ghost, and a handful of others, choose to stay for any other mission not related to the thump drive. So the next couple of days were hectic, most people were trying to get off as soon as possible but he notices a strange thing. You.

 Normal you are one of the first ones on the plane heading out but he has seen you at the practice range. after looking at the roster he finds that you volunteer for the last flight out. he asks around, well more like interrogate soap, finding your excuse was that you need the extra training time but he didn’t completely believe it. Seeing the crestfallen look on your face with ever no was around but your spark was there whenever someone was near so he wasn’t too worried. soon you went with your smile, so he wasn’t to worry about you.

 But when you came not even three weeks later. you came and he knew instantly that something was wrong, the spark was no longer in your eyes. he didn’t what to do, you no longer laugh and smile as you use to. sure you follow any orders but without your usual quip or smartass comment.

 It affected everyone, even soap wasn’t himself, he tried the most to get you to creak a smile but you never did. Weeks passed and the mission to take down the network came. everyone was grim, if they fail this who knows the damage that could happen.

 But they didn’t, thanks to you, the network wouldn’t be able to recover from it fully. everyone was celebrating, all smiles and laughter filled the mess hall, and even Ghost creak a smile under his mask. the only person he didn’t see at the party was you, you disappear as soon as Price told every that drinks were waiting for them.

 Ghost decided he was going to find and snap you out of whatever the hell was going on. he began his search in the quarter but your room was empty as was the shared space. next was the small dining room/kitchen but it was empty as were the next three places. stepping outside for a cigarette, and he rounds the corner to the spot where no one bugs him and he can get a moment of peace, and sure enough, you were there.

 He goes to shout your name but stops as he notices tears streaming down your face, there’s a picture in your hand.  Walking to you, carefully until he steps on a twit and your head snaps to him, a hand quickly wiping the evince of tears from your face. You shout a weak. “L.T. what are you doing here?”

 Ghost doesn’t let the twig pause his steps, goes leans against the wall, and answers. “Well taking a break from looking for you.”

 Your head drops as you say. “Sorry L.T.”

 “It’s fine, saved me from soap, who set up the Karaoke machine.” Ghost across his arm and sight as the joke didn’t even get a chuckle from you. A hand reaches out and takes hold of your shoulder and he says. “You don’t have to do it all yourself, you know.”

 You bulk at the work, trying to shrug off his hand and turn away from him but he doesn’t let you. Grabbing your other shoulder and forcing you to face him as he tells you. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but you can talk with me.”

 Lips tremble at his works as the tear you have been holding back bursts out. Hand covers your face as you sob, as you choke out. “Sorry, ghost, I’m a mess.”

 “What’s happened?” Ghost asks, removing one hand and leaving the other for comfort. Sniffing a bit before wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt before you hold up the picture. Looking, Ghost sees it’s of an old man, who in a bed with all sorts of wires attached to him but he’s still has a smile full of life on his face.

 “This is my grandfather.” You explain, “he passed away.”

 “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Ghost, not knowing if those were the right words but he had nothing else to offer. You give him a genuine smile, tinting with sadness as you whisper.

 “Thank you but he pass the last time I was home, three days after the photo was taken.”

 You couldn’t see but Ghost’s brow furrows in confusion and he questions you as gently as he could. “Then what’s going on with you?”

 You huff a strangled laugh and reply with a heartbroken tone. “My grandfather was my only supporter in anything I did. The rest of my family never accepted me and my life choices and when I join the military well I was part-way disowned.  They never fully said it because they didn’t want grandfather to cut them from the will.”

 Your foot drags back and forth on the ground, making a little trench in the ground back, and hesitantly continues talking.  “I thought that maybe after things settled down that they would come around but...”

 You trail off and Ghost finishes the sentence for you. “They never did.”

 “I came home to my stuff thrown out of my grandfather’s house.” You sob out, hand coming to cover your mouth.

 “They’re fucking idiots.”

 The statement makes your head snaps up with shock and stare at your Lieutenant with mouth agape. He just rolls his eyes and adds. “You one of the best if not the best soldier.”

 Hand scratches the back of your head as you try to argue he cuts you off again. “You prove that today, because of you we completed the mission with zero casualties. Sure people got hurt but they didn’t die.”

 He grabs your shoulder, looks you directly in the eyes, and tells you. “Here at the 141, you are family. Never forget that you are not alone, you can lean on us, anytime.”

 You close your eyes, throw your head back, and laugh, for the first time in weeks you truly laugh. And when you open your eyes again, Ghost sees the spark back in them. Smile under his mask and tell you with mischievous, “You know soap grease up the grenade that day.”

 “The one he has been making fun of me for months now.”

 Ghost nods in confirmation, leading you to nod your head back as you say in a playful tone. “Well, I’m going to go kill him now.”

 This makes Ghost laugh as you walk away, but before you disappear around the corner, you call out. “Hey, Ghost!”

 “Yeah.“ He answers while pulling out his box of cigarettes.

 “Thank you.”

 He pulls up his mask and before placing a cigarette between his lip, calls out. “Anytime, Sparks, Anytime.”

Thank you, everyone, for reading, and let me know your thoughts. If you have a request, go here.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Dear Nonnymouse... Who sent me this:

it’s only friendly advice, but you’ll never get far in the star trek rpc with some of the people you keep around. {redacted} is fine. it’s the people close to {redacted}. one of them being the biggest issue. even if {redacted} is the only {muse}, i understand wanting to interact with the canon muses. her {muse} isn’t even bad. she is. it’s unsolicited advise, but it’s trying to warn you about someone in the rpc. you don’t need to be apart of her collection when there are a lot of us who would love to write with your oc. {redacted} only wakes up for popular canons. don’t let yourself be disappointed when she won’t give your oc the time of day.

this really is being sent with a true hope this finds you well and to help you in your future rp journey.

~*~ Howdy. First, let me explain. Normally I don't tend to respond to things like this but I feel there's merit in posting this just so that everyone can understand where I am coming from and we can all get on with out day. Also, I redacted the names and muse of the two people you specifically named in this PSA. Why? Because I do not engage in call out culture and I wish to be respectful to all parties involved in this. Secondly, I can only assume that you are both young and/or maybe wrote this on your phone, but I appreciate punctuation, complete sentences, grammar, the Oxford comma, capitalisation where appropriate, and the like. Call me elderly if you wish but as a librarian and a teacher, I can say that this almost hurt to read, though not as much as other anons I have received in the past. Third, you acknowledge that this is, in fact, unsolicited advice, and on that front you are absolutely correct. I did not ask for it. Where your advice fails is such: I. You assume I need a warning label about the people with whom I interact. I am actually quite capable of choosing with whom I wish to write, when and how according to our schedules and availability, the nature of what that writing entails, and other details that should matter only to my writing partner and myself. Whether canon or oc, whether rookie or veteran a mun, I will give anyone a chance on my blogs and with my muses based on their merit and not the gossip of others. II. You assume I want to 'get far' in the Star Trek rpc. Nonny, darling, understand this; I have a multitude of books, television, film and other mediums to which I have great love and respect, and am ever so happy to create a verse for should the opportunity arise. But I. Do. Not. Participate. In. Any. Specific. RPC. Mostly because they are little incestuous and toxic little echo-chambers that breed mostly only contempt and favouritism. Every single one I've come up against reminds me of high-school with cliques, tropes, petty squabbling, and other behaviour I find absolutely appalling. Really, honestly, y'all can miss me with this mess. III. You don’t need to be apart of her collection when there are a lot of us who would love to write with your oc. {These are your words, not mine}. I'm looking around here. I've seen exactly...none of y'all... following me out of the blue, knocking on my metaphorical door, engaging with me in any way to make this a valid point. The friends I make are mostly organic; if I see a blog where I enjoy the writing, I will read the rules and peruse the muse or muses that are available. I will follow and try talking via DM or discord, and work out what we're going to create. I take people who follow me at face value and offer them welcome, support, and my best efforts. Sometimes we are not compatible as people and that's fine. I feel that maybe this could be put under the first section but here we are. IV. Finally, we come to the most important address of this post. The specific Mun you oh-so-cordially needed to warn me about.

Seriously, it took me almost 4 hours to stop laughing about this. This mun has disappointed me. She has enraged me to the point of contemplating murder. She's also consoled me when my heart was broken. She's eaten at my kitchen table and made my husband laugh so hard I think a little beer came out of his nose. She's made me fall in love with things I vowed to hate, and we've given each other untold worlds and lives and loves over the years. There are things we will harbour grudges into the afterlife and beyond with one another. Even when we reach a point that we're contemplating what we would look like in prison orange, we still have each other's backs. We have also been friends for nearly a quarter century. This is no exaggeration.

We have written together, created communities, talked ad nauseam about via text/messages/on the telephone and in person for longer than a lot of people in these rpcs have been alive. We could fill my library with the amount of things we've ever talked and written about. There is nothing anyone can 'warn' me about that I don't already know. That same is true for people telling her things about me that they feel are valid.

So, in conclusion. Nonnymouse, you are swimming up some deep streams that you know nothing about, about people you've formed an opinion about without any substantial information to go on except for maybe some hurt feelings and jealousy, if I've read between the lines, and let's face it... You're not exactly Willy Wonka so the sugar-coating about being concerned for my emotional welfare and stability and wishing me happiness in my rp journey {which I've been doing just fine in for the last 8 years}, comes across as fake as William Shatner's toupee.

TL;DR version: Well aren't you precious. Bless your heart. <3

~Sincerly, Turtlemun.

PS: I promise if I have to do this again, I will decline being so polite.

[lestappenforever]

Hi beautiful, just came here to yell nonsense again. My observations:

Oscar piastri is really cute and one of the best rookies I’ve seen in a while, I was rooting for him a couple years ago and I’ll be supporting him no matter what. He deserves a podium.

Sargeant’s season is not as bad as it may seem. He’s a decent rookie in my opinion and deserves a second year

I’m baffled by Carlos’ statement that he doesn’t use hair conditioner. Why men always get the easy shit.

If Charles and Max interacted with each other just like carlando, they would have the biggest tag on Ao3.

I miss Mick on the grid but 70% of this feeling is because I miss his father. I’ve loved Michael all my life and I plan to put his name on my son, if I ever have one.

The bad blood between Charles and Max that led them to unfollow each other on the same plane would’ve been gone if they used that opportunity to join the mile high club

Charles’ piano abilities should be more used in fanfics, especially with the I’ll play Adele thinking about Max plot.

Cotton candy is a MUST in cinemas

Horror movies are anything but scary nowadays

Phone sex is a really good plot. Wet dreams too.

Ibuprofen never worked for my cramps, I’m dying inside since yesterday.

That’s it, see you soon for more ridiculous intakes 🫶🏻

Evie, my love, my light, my universe. This is literally one of my absolute favourite Tumblr notifications to get:

Oscar Piastri: I could not agree with you more.

Sargeant: Also could not agree with you more.

Carlos and conditioner: Honestly, the fact that men can use 3-in1 soaps and have the most luscious locks and the most flawless skin is an injustice I will never get over.

Charles and Max AO3 tag: Oh my God, you're so right.

Mick: I miss him too. Michael's accident broke my heart when it happened, and still makes me sad to think about all these years later. I think naming a potential future son Michael is beautiful.

The Great Lestappen Unfollowing: Oh, absolutely. They should have just made the mature, reasonable decision to join the mile high club together as opposed to unfollowing each other.

Charles' piano talents in fics: I agree and I love this.

Cotton candy in cinemas: YES.

Horror movies: You're right, with a select few exceptions.

Phone sex and wet dreams as a plot: Evie, my love, I worship your brain.

Ibuprofen and cramps: You poor thing. I'm sending you all the love. 💕

I will never not love seeing you in my inbox, and I am already excited for next time. I love you so very much. ❤️

[hiiroamagisbestfriend]

HI HII umm for the christmas event, can I request Aira and day 14??

Ice Skating!

w/ Aira Shiratori x GN! Reader

i myself am actually very horrible at ice skating, lets get that bread

Warnings: Reader falls down a bit while skating, other than that, nothing!

Aira steeled his resolve, checking the message he had typed up in his drafts. It was a simple one, just an invitation to go out ice skating with him because he found a good place nearby. All he had to do was press send, but see the main problem was that Aira was sending it to the person he was crushing on. Aira wouldn't even know what to do with himself if you said no.

He held his thumb over the send button, said finger shaking ever so slightly to show his hesitation. Actually, I just won't send it after a- Aira feels someone collide on his back, nudging his entire body forward. "Hey! What are you doing?!" Aira instinctively knew that there would be no person other than Hiiro boorish enough to treat him like this.

He turned to look at the said redhead, who was already hanging his head in a low bow as if to apologize. Aira was prepared to sermon him into next year, when he suddenly felt a vibration from his phone. He was planning to just ignore it for now, but when he saw that it was you that messaged him, he decided that this was more important.

[Sure, I'd love to go! Is tomorrow good?]

Aira swiped his finger, scrolling upwards to see that his word vomit message of an invitation was sent to you. Huh? Huhh?? HUH?! Aira looked at your reply over and over again, wondering if there was any way he was misinterpreting it. They said yes! Ahaha! This is sooo ra~bui!

"I'll let you off the hook for today, Hiro-kun. I have more important things to deal with!" Aira rushed back to his dorm, immediately sifting through his closet, looking for things to wear on your date. Well, date might be a bit hasty. Aira thought, but he was honestly too happy to care.

You were friends with Aira for a long time by now, the two of you meeting in a forum site appreciating rookie idols. He always thought it was nice how you wanted to give your wholehearted support towards these budding talents, and it was also because of your support that Aira could find the courage to take his first step in making his dreams come true. Your support didn't stop after that though, you always tried your best to attend any concerts or activities that Aira would be in.

Before he knew it, he was starting to look for you every time he had idol work. When he felt an unexplainable sadness in his chest at the times you couldn't come, he realized that he probably held a bit more than just normal affection for his good friend. In his eyes, you became way more than just a friend, or his first fan, you became a person he wanted to impress. The person that Aira wants to see the culmination of all his hard work and effort come to fruition.

Unfortunately, due to the way an idol's life worked, it became harder and harder for the two of you to meet, much less talk. Though he could see you in the crowd during concerts and fan meets, the two of you haven't had a meaningful interaction outside of an idol and his fan in a long time. Sure, the two of you chatted whenever Aira had the free time, but Aira really didn't want you to drift away from him.

That's why he devised this plan to take you out on an ice-skating rink. The two of you hadn't hung out in forever, and this seemed like a fun activity to do while catching up with one another. Before he even thought of inviting you, Aira made sure that he could at least stand on his own two feet while on ice, simply wanting to show you the best sides of himself.

Once Aira picked out the clothes he'd wear for the day, he immediately jumped into bed, incredibly excited to hang out with you again just like old times.

At least, that was the plan. Aira was a tad bit more excited than he would have liked, staring at the ceiling for hours on end as it seemed like sleep had no intention of taking him. When his alarm sounded, and he realized he really hadn't slept even a wink, did it finally set in what was happening.

Augh, no time for that! I have to get ready! Just because he didn't get any sleep meant that he wasn't going to try his best today. He quickly gets ready and makes his way to the place he set for the two of you to meet.

"Ah, Aira~ over here~!" You were waving at him, and Aira couldn't help but find it cute how much you were bundled up. "It's been a while, huh?" You smiled at him the way Aira was used to, and he really felt like he was back in time when you two were just simple idol fans that hanged out every day to talk about your favorite idols.

"Yeah! It really has!" Aira didn't even want to hide the joy on his face, your presence basically erasing all the tardiness he was experiencing. "I can go pay and get the shoes, so just sit tight!" Aira of course took the initiative, he was the one that invited you after all!

While you were watching him talk to the cashier at a nearby bench, you couldn't help but be proud of your friend. It seemed like it was just yesterday that he was an idol fan. Now he's achieved his dreams and working towards even more amazing things than you two could have ever imagined when you were younger.

Aira returns, holding two pairs of skates, handing one pair to you as he sits beside you to put on his own pair. When you two were finished, Aira noticed how you wobbled a bit as you stood up. "Ahaha, are you having trouble standing?" Aira couldn't help but think this side of you was cute too.

He takes his hand in yours, though the two of you were wearing quite thick gloves, you could almost feel the warmth and safety emanating from his hand as he led you into the rink. "You can hold on to the bars until you get used to standing, okay? I'll be here so don't worry." Aira mentally pat himself in the back, he was rehearsing that line in front of the mirror for so long, and he's glad he was able to get it out in a natural way.

After a while, you eventually got to stand without help from the bar or Aira. "Aha! Look, Aira! I did it!" You cheered as you put both of your arms in the air, your legs only wobbling a miniscule amount. Aira was about to cheer for you as well, until he saw you try to move forward, and your legs started sliding in all sorts of weird ways.

When you fell flat on your butt on the cold ice, Aira couldn't help but let out a little chuckle. You knew there was no malice to it at all, and you decided to just laugh along. "Alright, I won't let go of you this time, so let's try moving around, okay?" Yet another practiced line, he was definitely on fire today.

The way you clung to his hand and shoulder at the same time was absolutely ra~bui and Aira only found it cuter how you tried to hide your reddening cheeks with the scarf you had on. He wanted to tell you that there was no reason to be so shy, since he was just as clumsy when he first tried ice skating, but this wasn't a side of yours he got to see all the time and he didn't really want to pass this opportunity up.

Eventually, the two of you just settled into a calm rhythm, moving around the rink at your own leisurely pace. There were times when Aira wanted to do some sharp turns, and he only found it cuter when your grip on him became tighter during such moments. "Hey, Aira" He perked up at the mention of his name, raising an eyebrow to show that he heard you. "Thank you."

Aira only smiled, he knew that you didn't just mean thanks for holding your hand and making sure you didn't fall. "No, (Y/N). Thank you. I wouldn't even have been able to put my foot through the door if it wasn't for your support. This is just the start, but I'll be the one to support you from now on, okay?" There was no need to practice that, after all, those were words straight from Aira's heart.

Even when your eyes grew a bit misty, Aira only held on to your hand tighter. "Mhm. You're really great, Aira. I'm so happy you were able to make your dream come true." Now it was Aira's turn to get red faced, you really were an angel, weren't you? "I'll always have your back, so just keep moving forward, okay?"

"Yep! I know you do! That's why I love you, (Y/N)!" Aira didn't realize what it was he just said, his grip on you immediately loosening as you collided with a wall. "AH?! (Y/N)! Are you okay?!"

"Ahaha! Yeah, I'm okay! Thank you, Aira. I love you too~!" Aira screamed when you suddenly threw yourself on top of him in a hug, the two of you making a slight thud against the ice. Aira had every right to get mad, that hurt like hell after all! But he guesses he can let it go just this once.

ice skating is so fun last time i did it i spend 80% of the time on the ground

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!

[saralayne]

It Is 🩵💜

Tim confiding in Grey about his relationship with Lucy.

“Since we’re having this talk, I’m assuming it’s serious”

“IT IS”

As Tim accepted the court liaison position from Grey. There was much more to say. Grey had been watching this bond form. He knew Lucy had changed Tim. She had brought Tim out from his own darkness, had broken down his walls. Grey saw Lucy as a daughter type and wanted to make sure that Tim was serious about this and it wasn’t just a heat of the moment type situation.

“So Tim, be real with me. This relationship with Lucy. You having to change your career path. A lot of sacrifices. You really want this?”

“Sir. It is. I can’t keep living life like I was. I have honestly loved her for so long. Never in my life after Isobel. Or even more so, did I ever think I would fall for my rookie. But after the Caleb situation happened. Everything shifted for me. I knew at that point I couldn’t act on any romantic feelings. At that point, my only thought was to protect her. Recently, after we both became single. I couldn’t be silent anymore. I’m so in love with her. I want it all with her. Making this professional sacrifice is easy for me. She makes me so happy, the happiest I could of ever imagined. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me”

“Well. That’s all I needed to know. I have seen the impact she has had on you for years now. I can see in your eyes. You really love her. Tim, I will be you and Lucy’s biggest supporter. I saw you go through that darkness after Isobel. What her addiction did to you. You lost a part of yourself. You were just existing. Until your hot shot Rookie came on the scene. She never gave up. She was never deterred from your rough exterior. You tried pushing her away time after time. Lucy, she sure is something. Breaking down those Bradford walls.”

“She sure did, sir. She never gave up on me. I thank my lucky stars everyday, she never did. Now, I get to spend my life making it up to her.”

“Yup, you two are gonna be just fine”

“Thank you sir. For everything”

[jalwoorideul]

You Make Me Stay

synopsis: in which valerie has thoughts of quitting

warning: angst, emotional breakdown, feelings if sadness

--

5 years. 5 long years of training and being away from home, yet still nothing. At this point Valerie has no idea if this would still be worth in the end.

What makes me so sure that the company is going to select me for the debut team? How many more years of waiting should I do?

Was choosing to stay a bad decision? She's watched a lot of her idol trainee friends who have left, get their chance. She's watched her other trainee friends from other companies debut.

Was she risking so much of herself just to be with the best?

Herin, Yiyang, Lami, Koeun, Hina, they've all left and went on to do better things while she stays here waiting for her debut that she isn't even sure would even happen.

And now she's here crying alone inside her dorm room while her trainee friends are practicing.

These thoughts consumed her. Every moving second of every minute, she's been losing hope of being the person she thought she would become. The person she desired to be.

"Xinyi, where are you? I brought snacks" She hears the muffled voice of Yizhuo, or Ningning, shout from outside of her room. She quickly wiped her tears, being careful not make it obvious that she was.

"Coming!" She shouted back. Xinyi fixed herself and gathered outside to meet with Ningning. "They ran out of corn chips so I just- Val? Were you crying?"

Once the question came out, the said girl wasn't able to mask her tears any longer, which she still tried to choke up. "Oh my gosh. Is everything alright? Do you want me to call Dongh-"

"No no no. I'm fine. Really. It's just.... it's been a rough week"

Yizhuo did not believe a word she said. Xinyi was usually a positive and happy person. She's the type of person the brings liveliness in the room and she's always one to think of good things instead of the worst, so seeing her in tears was distraughting.

"What happened?" The younger asked more firmly.

"I can't do it anymore Ning... I-I don't think.... I'm not sure anymore" All her walls broke down in an instant.

Without any word Yizhuo gave her a tight hug. In times like these, she honestly just doesn't know what to say because she knows all too well how hard it is. She knows all too well how she feels.

"I want to leave. I mean I'm thinking of doing it... I'm just... trying to make sure that's what I want" Valerie added.

"If you do... and somehow I hope you don't because I want to do this with you... but, if you do, I'll support you, okay? Whatever happens, whatever you decide to do, I'll support you" Ningning whispered to her older sister's ear.

"I'm.. I'll give myself 2 more weeks to think about it until after the monthly evaluations but I'm packing my bags now... just in case"

"Okay..." Ningning replied sadly.

----

Later that night, when everyone else in the dorm was asleep, Xinyi went out of the bedroom to grab a glass of water when she heard muffled crying atvthe living room.

Careful not to make a noise, Valerie tip-toed to get a sight of who it was, only to find out that it was the same girl who saw her crying earlier.

Ningning was hunched on the couch, her knees to he fer forehead while she hides her eyes from sight.

And that's when Xinyi realized one important thing.

If she leaves, she's not only leaving her dream behind. She's leaving Ningning. Ever since she became a trainee, she's witnessed so many people leave, and she knows how much that feels. Now one of her best friends will be witnessing another one.

Much more than the current trainees, her and Ningning grew a closer bond because they were both introduced as SM Rookies and trained with the same people that joined the company the same time that Xinyi did.

So seeing her cry, probably holding back her tears in front of everyone, especially Valerie, made the older girl realize that if she loved these girls so much, if she loved Ningning and every other trainee around her, she can wait just a little more.

Just a little more for these girls, whom she grew to care so much about.

-----

It's been a good two weeks and the monthly evaluations has ended. Despite feeling a bit distracted, Valerie was luckily able to put on a good performance.

"Have you made your decision?" The girl heard her younger sister ask as she slowly walks over to her. They were taking a rest at the locker rooms while everyone was already at the dance studios stretching.

Valerie has. She's talked to many of her friends about her situation asking for advice,and she's finally come to a conclusion.

"I'm staying.... I'll stay for you"

[acrosstobear]

Tbh I feel like the reason Haas is dropping him is because Mick is not with them for the long haul. There's been talks with other teams and there are already rumours Audi will want him, possibly as soon as 2024. I do really want Mick to continue, but if you look at it from Haas's perspective it does make sense. They've always said they do not like having rookies or developing drivers, they had to do that because of other reasons last year (financial, Ferrari). What they want is experienced, realiable drivers who can develop the car, bring it home and score points. If you're Haas, why keep Mick for another year and risk potentially more than with Hulk when he's gonna leave anyway??

I do wish Mick had a healthier environment to develop. Like the one Guanyu seems to have. Very supporting team and teammate and not added pressure. But I'm hopeful for Mick and I do think he could be a good choice for Audi soon.

this got long winded so i'm putting it under a cut but this is a great conversation and question, anon bestie.

i think for me the biggest problem is that Haas has never really shown true intention to get themselves to the front of the grid. Gene seems to use the F1 team as marketing for his actual business, rather than choose to invest and actually try and improve the team. so if Haas is only ever going to be, at best, a midfield team, WHY would experienced drivers want to drive for them, and quite honestly, with WHAT money are Haas going to hire those experienced drivers? at some point, you cannot have F1 experience without teams that take risks on rookie drivers. we all know that teams in championship contention are not going to be the teams taking that risk. the nature of the thing requires that the lower placed teams take on rookie drivers to give them the f1 experience that the championship contending teams require. because otherwise, all you have is an aging grid who can't race forever and no one to replace them because no one has experience. ideally you have a mix of rookie and experienced drivers as teammates, and when the more experienced driver moves on, the rookie takes their place as the experienced driver.

when we look at Hulk, he's got MAYBE 5 years in him? if he goes to when Kimi and Fernando raced until, and they only got to race until then because of their past accomplishments and continued ability to drag the most out of the car. Hulk does not have any accomplishments to speak of, nor does he have a continued ability to get the most out of the car. i don't seem him suddenly developing that while driving a difficult, temperamental car at best. i think your long term investment possibilities are higher in Mick, so long as the team ALSO steps up and delivers a car. again it comes back to -- if Haas are always going to be a midfield car, then drivers who have the ambition and the growth and results to back it up will always try and move on to better team. who knows though! maybe Mick's next seasons are respectable but not incredible (think Carlos/Perez style) and he never gets the call up to a better team. again, his long term possibilities just generally look better.

100% agreed for the last part. teams that embrace rookies and help them grow and develop are critical to the sport. where would Charles be without Alfa Romeo? where would George or Bottas be without Williams? we've seen what happens when rookies get thrown into the deep end at a top team and are expected to deliver no mistake performances every week (*cough cough* Alex Albon).

with regards to Audi, i think there's a lot still up in the air. we don't know when they will take enough ownership of the team that they will have an influence on drivers. they have not said that they will be title sponsors of the team from 2024 onward. personally, as much as i would LOVE to believe in it, i'm going to keep taking it with a grain of salt and hope that there are other options that come up for Mick in 2023 or 2024.

[munseysmuses]

Muse Questionnaire! [To be answered IC]

Name?  “Gerald Shaun! Just ‘Gary’ is fine, though!”

Are you single? “At the moment, yes.”

Are you happy? “Generally or right now? Because it’s a different answer for each. Right now, I’d say I’m pretty happy, though.”

Are you angry?  “About a few things, but no sense being worked up when I don’t need to be.”

Are your parents still married?  “As far as I know, yes!”

NINE FACTS

Birth place?  “Well, I hatched on Club Penguin. Does that count?”

Hair color?  “I don’t have hair. Unless you count my feathers, which are a vibrant blue.”

Eye color?  “Black. Or at least a very, very dark brown.”

Birthday?  “Nobody usually remembers as it’s also a holiday; October 31st, otherwise known as Halloween! It just so happens to be my favorite holiday, as well, so it works out perfectly!”

Mood?  “Right now? I’d describe it as happy or content.”

Gender?  “Male.”

Summer or winter? “That’s actually a tough one- with Summer, it’s nice and bright- the sun doesn’t set until Winter starts. Winter, though, is much darker. It’s great for winding down, marked by the end of the Music Jam in March.”

Morning or afternoon?  “Depends on the season, heh!”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

Are you in love?  “Not at the moment, no.”

Do you believe in love at first sight?  “Not necessarily. I believe in attraction at first sight, sure, but love takes work.”

Who ended your last relationship?  “I don’t recall my previous relationship, actually.”

Have you ever broken someone’s heart?  “Not that I’m aware of.”

Are you afraid of commitments?  “I’m alright with commitments, as long as I know what I’m getting into.”

Have you hugged someone within the last week?  “Definitely. Rookie’s a big hugger!”

Have you ever had a secret admirer?  “A couple of times, but that comes with being a public figure.”

Have you ever broken your own heart?  “Not in a romantic sense.”

SIX CHOICES

Love or lust?  “I’d prefer Love over Lust.”

Lemonade or iced tea?  “Why not both?”

Cats or dogs?  “Between the puffle versions, I’d prefer cats.”

A few best friends or many regular friends?  “Nothing saying I can’t have a lot of regular friends, but you can’t beat the feel of a close-knit group of best friends!”

Wild night out or romantic night in?  “A night in sounds relaxing!”

Day or night? “Considering my Antarctic home has seasons of both, I prefer Day.”

FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS

Been caught sneaking out?  “I don’t think I’ve ever snuck out before?”

Fallen down/up the stairs?  “Fallen down, definitely.”

Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? “Thankfully, no.”

Wanted to disappear?  “...a couple times.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

Smile or eyes?  “Eyes are the windows to the soul!”

Shorter or taller?  “If there’s anyone shorter than a 1-foot-3 Little Blue penguin, I’d like to meet them. In all honestly, though, I don’t mind a taller partner!”

Intelligence or attraction?  “Intelligence, without a doubt. If someone is able to understand my occasional scientific ramblings, it’s that much easier to share what I’m interested in and working on, and connect even more!”

Hook-up or relationship?  “Relationship, easily.”

FAMILY

Do you and your family get along? “Indeed we do!”

Would you say you have a “messed up life”?  “Not necessarily.”

Have you ever run away from home?  “Nope. I had a good home, never felt like I needed to.”

Have you ever gotten kicked out?  “As a joke once or twice growing up, by my siblings, but never for longer than an hour or two. Just the usual sibling stuff.”

FRIENDS

Do you secretly hate one of your friends?  “No, I care very much about all of my friends.”

Do you consider all of your friends good friends? “Most of them, at least!”

Who is your best friend?  “One of them is certainly Rookie; he may be a bit clumsy and forgetful, but he’s always there when you need him and manages to get things done in his own unique way. One of the most supportive folks you could ever meet! And yes, by the way, I have more than one best friend. Doesn’t everyone?”

Who knows everything about you? “Aunt Arctic. I’ve known her the longest out of my friend group, and thus she knows pretty much everything about me.”

───

I found this in the search browser, so I decided, why not fill it out? Tagging: Whoever wants to do this and spread it around!

[rookie-critic]

Rookie-Critic's Film Review Weekend Wrap-Up - Week of 5/1-5/7/2023

Somewhere in Queens (2023, dir. Ray Romano) This was way better than it had any right to be. I'm not sure what I was expecting from a Ray Romano-directed picture, but for some reason it wasn't this. Just an unendingly sweet little slice-of-life film that analyzes the dynamics of a very messy, but loving family. Romano, who also stars in the film as the lead, plays Leonard, a man who's always late, generally says the wrong thing most of the time, and is just kind of awkward, but he loves his son Sticks (yes, that's a nickname), and he supports him with everything he's got, to a degree of fault, really. Romano isn't afraid to push his characters' faults into the spotlight, and he never tries to excuse them, but he also never loses sight of the fact their hearts are always in the right place. Laurie Metcalf also stuns as Leonard's wife Angela, a cancer survivor and a mother who's jealous of her son's secret girlfriend. The movie is basically a 1 hour and 46 minute, R-rated episode of Everybody Loves Raymond, but honestly I'm not complaining. The format difference allows Romano to explore his characters with a little more depth than a 22-24 minute TV episode would have allowed, and it breaths life into everyone on screen. I was super impressed with Somewhere in Queens, and I actually find myself looking forward to whatever Ray Romano decides to direct next, which is not a sentence I ever thought I'd hear myself say.

Score: 9/10

Currently only in theaters.

Police Story 3: Supercop (1992, dir. Stanley Tong) I have always been a fan of Jackie Chan, having grown up in his heyday in the States, but my fondness for the actor has never extended past his popular American films like the Rush Hour or Shanghai Noon/Knights series of films. I've always known about to slew of Hong Kong action comedies he starred in prior to breaking out over here, but I've just never made the time to watch them. So, I was more than happy to oblige when my older brother wanted to come over to my place and do a double-feature night with this and Drunken Master II (or Legend of the Drunken Master, depending on who you ask). This also doubles as one of Michelle Yeoh's earliest starring roles in a film, so I was doubly interested in watching this. Needless to say it is amazing. The story is decent enough, a police detective (Chan's Ka Kui Chan) is tasked with traveling to mainland China and pairing up with an Interpol agent (Yeoh's Chien Hua Yang) to take down a drug kingpin. Sounds pretty basic, and the nature of the story allows for a lot of Jackie Chan-style hijinks to ensue, but the real meat of what makes Supercop so incredible are the stunts. The things that Jackie Chan does in this movie make Tom Cruise look like a toddler playing in a sandbox. One stunt in particular was so unreal we thought there was no way he was doing it without a harness (turns out he absolutely was doing it without a harness). I won't spoil any of it for you (even though I'm the one who's late to the party here) because, if you haven't seen this, you must. It is one of the most incredible stunt spectacles I've ever seen put to film, and hands down the most impressed I've ever been with a Jackie Chan film, and that was already a pretty high bar.

Score: 9/10

Currently streaming on The Criterion Channel.

Drunken Master II (1994, dir. Lau Kar-leung) I've always heard that this is one of the, if not the, best Jackie Chan movies there is, and it's easy to see why that's the consensus. The hand-to-hand fighting choreography is, without question, the best I've ever seen. The final fight sequence (or series of fight sequences) alone, which takes up the last 20 minutes of the film's runtime, is an absolute wonder to behold. There were things I was seeing in this film that I didn't think was possible to do with the human body that put my jaw firmly on the ground. However, the film as a whole definitely has its weak moments and parts that drag, and a surprising amount of melodrama that I was probably being played for laughs, but it just wasn't landing with me. Which isn't to say that the film isn't funny, most of the physical comedy bits land, which isn't uncommon for a Jackie Chan vehicle, there were just a handful of moments that felt like they were trying too hard. Overall it's just a more uneven viewing experience than Supercop was, but its strengths more than make up for any of the film's detriments.

Score: 7/10

Currently available to rent/purchase on digital (iTunes, Amazon, Vudu, etc.) and on Blu-ray & DVD through Warner Bros.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 (2023, dir. James Gunn) I won't belabor the point on this one too much as my full review was posted literally yesterday, but I was left deeply emotionally affected by this by the time the credits ran. I thought that almost everything about it just worked, barring an under-use of the Adam Warlock character, and the decision to make Rocket the focal point of this film's story was a stroke of genius on the part of writer/director James Gunn. Maybe I'm the lone wolf on how much I loved this because of my bias towards these characters, but I think Gunn knocked it straight out of the park and into the next galaxy with this. It's a wonderful film about finding the strength in your flaws and imperfections and the power of moving forward.

Score: 9/10

Only in theaters. You can read my full review of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 here.

Carmen (2023, dir. Benjamin Millepied) By all accounts, this is not my kind of movie in the slightest. I've heard of the opera, but other than that I couldn't tell you one thing about the story before a few hours ago (I got home from the theater about 4 hours prior to writing this). The story is pretty basic and it definitely takes a "style over substance" approach to its visual storytelling, both things I tend to not be a fan of, but against all odds I have to say I did enjoy my time with Carmen. For one, I love both Melissa Barrera and Paul Mescal and they both kill it in their respective roles, even if I thought their romance moved way too fast to be truly believable. The dance numbers, while sometimes hard to follow the symbolism of, were wonderful. I was impressed with both Barrera's dance ability and voice, and Mescal, for what little dancing he does in the film, is better than you would think he would be. Where I think the film fails is in its message. It does seem like it touches on a lot of things that could have been really interesting (the central romance is between a white "all-American" veteran who clearly, regardless of his own beliefs, comes from a background of racism towards Hispanic people, and an undocumented immigrant), but it never really goes beneath the surface of any of its themes. There are also a handful of loose ploit threads that just kind of irked me. In a movie filled to the brim with extended interpretive dance numbers, they could have devoted at least a few seconds to throwaway line explaining some things and providing a little more context to Carmen's situation. It just seemed like there was a large section of the story that we just didn't get to see and, frankly, it felt like the filmmakers forgot about it, as well. Taking all of that into account, though, I still was drawn into the world of Carmen. I can't fully explain why I think that is, but something about it just grabbed me. I'm not sure I could tell you the greater purpose of everything Carmen throws at you in its 2 hour stay onscreen, but I can tell you that I was mesmerized by most of it, and that's gotta count for something.

Score: 7/10

Currently only in theaters.

[mcgnussen]

why there is such a big difference between mick and kevin - a defence of mick schumacher:

i’ve seen SO MANY tweets and comments about mick, and while i think the tumblr community is mostly supportive of mick, i still want to share my thoughts here. here are some of the challenges mick face that kevin does not. 

1. bad luck

mick has been unlucky. he’s had contact during two race starts which has sent him down to the back. while i think kevin’s experience and talent is what has gotten him to where he is, there have been a few lucky breaks for him, maybe luck coupled with skill, but luck all the same. he was very close to putting his car in the wall during qualifying and during the sprint he was close to crashing with riccardio. 

2. an extended rookie season

due to the car being nowhere last year, with a difficult teammate (who was also a rookie) and a bad working environment, i think we should all consider the first half of the calendar this year to be an extension of his rookie season and not comment on his skill quite yet.

mick makes rookie mistakes, and that is no criticism of his skill or talent, that is just how it is. hamilton, verstappen, leclerc, kevin - everyone on the grid made rookie mistakes in their first f1 season and some of their second. k-mag definitely made mistakes in 2014 during his first season that he would never make now. he has a completely different understanding of his car and how he places it on the track now than he did then, he also knows most of the other drivers and their style of driving from duels with them, experience mick does not have starting from p19 in 2021. making mistakes is how you learn, you need to fail and make the mistake to truly learn the lesson. kevin is on his 7th formula 1 season, those are years worth of experience that mick does not possess yet. 

this is also the first time during his f1 career where mick has been beaten by his teammate, that does shake your confidence a litte, which leads me to my next point. 

3. kevin was severely underrated during his second stint in f1

this is not to mick’s advantage generally, other than the fact it seems k-mag and him are very good at sharing information. i have seen several comments being like “schumacher can’t even beat magnussen, how will he ever beat the good drivers?” in one of the top teams, kevin would be wdc material. and while i will admit to being biased, kevin has had f1 offers since 2015. most of the mclaren board wanted to retain him instead of button for 2015, renault wanted him for another season in 2016, williams wanted him for 2021. the media and fans might not have given him his dues before, but the teams in f1, most of them, certainly have. they know he is fast and that he drives with his heart, they know he is loaded with valuable experiences with different types of f1 cars. all of this makes mick look way worse than he is in comparison. honestly, if he had consistently beaten k-mag with a comfortable lead all season from the very beginning, mick should be in the ferrari next year. 

4. his name 

they are both sons of respected racing drivers, but obviously michael schumacher is a name everyone knows, he is a f1 legend - and that places a lot of pressure on mick. i do think he handles it really well though. during the days where sainz was negotiating with ferrari, i saw many people be like “they should pick mick instead”, and while i sympathise with the sentiment, that is kind of the last thing mick needs right now. he has gone out of his way to prove he deserves to be in f1 without relying on the schumacher name. and to be honest, any talk of mick going to ferrari right now is 100% based on his last name. he is not good enough for a ferrari yet. the best thing for mick right now is to be in a small team and get better with each race and learn the lessons he needs to learn from his mistakes. all of this obviously also means people judge mick harshly, they compare him to his father, an actual living legend, and that is just not fair. 

5. brain versus instinct 

from what i gather, mick is a very intelligent driver who relies a lot on data. this is not to say he has no instinct or that it is wrong, but he attacks a track very logically - and so did his father! kevin is a driver who drives on instinct, not that he does not prepare or use the data, but where he places the car on the track is mostly based on where it feels right, more so than where data tells him to. i think this trait and his years of f1 experience coupled with the new cars is a very good match. mick basically got used to a car, even a shit one, during his rookie season and then is now expected to drive a completely different car with totally different data than before. that is not easy for a logical driver, but luckily it will get better race for race as he understands it more and more.

in conclusion, once mick hones his skill, get more experience, develops his instinct, he will be a solid, intelligent driver.

[formula-what]

Brocedes time line for a very patient anon

Lewis quotes in orange, Nico quotes in pink, everyone else is blue.

okay first some background knowledge:

Nico is rich as fuck. only child, born in Germany, brought up in Monaco. son of world champion Keke Rosberg

Lewis was born on a council estate in Stevenage and his dad had to work multiple jobs for him to start karting

Honestly I think the difference in their backgrounds is one of the things that pushed them together, they were both isolated from the rest of the kids, but I’m keeping this purely facts rather than speculation.

2000

They’re both 15 years old and are karting teammates for MBB (Mercedes Benz McLaren) in Formula A

Robert Kubica: “there was always competition. But they didn’t fight. It was friendly competition. There was always laughing afterwards.” // “they would even have races to eat pizza”

They often shared hotel rooms at the races which was a “scene of many wrestling matches between them”

Dino Chiesa (their karting boss) – “many times I was called by reception about some problem in the room. It might be noise, or they might have broken something. They would never sleep so they were always tired the next morning”

“they both liked ice cream so much, particularly vanilla. During the night they wanted to eat ice cream always, so I had to go out everywhere to find some and keep them happy”

Lewis would often persuade Nico to buy him sweets

They would have competitions over LITERALLY EVERYTHING

Lewis: “we always had great competition whether on the racetrack or computer games or playing football”

“probably the first bit of competition we had was when Nico used to ride a unicycle everywhere so I thought, ‘I’ve got to learn how to ride this unicycle. Ive got to be better than him.’ I spent all my time outside the go-kart learning to ride this unicycle”

Apparently it only took Lewis 2 hours to teach himself how to do it

In maybe 2013 ish (when they were still friends) Lewis reflected with– “I have never laughed so much than when we were racing together. Nico was kicking everyone’s butt at that time. We had so great races together and built a great relationship”

“we were just arriving and enjoying go-karts and eating pizzas every weekend, fighting all the time and just having fun, whereas now it’s all business.”

many times they would talk about what they would do when they got to f1, made plans hoping to be teammates and become world champions together.

“Nico would say ‘when I’m in formula one’ and for me it was always ‘if I ever get to formula one’. Because obviously Nico’s dad was a formula 1 driver- he knew he was going to make it.”

F1

Nico joined f1 in 2006 with williams, Lewis 2007 with McLaren. And man I WISH I knew what went down with this two when Lewis nearly one his rookie season (missing out by one point to mr fernando alonso) and then WON THE CHAMPIONSHIP in his SECOND SEASON (again by one point thank you mr alonso)

2008 Australia

Nicos gets his first podium, and ofc Lewis is there (he won it) and they are jumping around in the cool down room. Just, two kids who are literally living the one thing they have spent their whole lives dreaming about together. Lewis won the championship that year and oh wow I can only imagine their celebrations together.

2013

They’re teammates in Mercedes!!!

Nico: “every other day there are moments or things that pop up and I can smirk and thing, ‘that’s exactly the same as it was 15 years ago’”

2013 Malaysian Grand Prix gets an honourable mention. This is the race with red bulls good old multi 21 but merc also had their own team orders, stopping nico from fighting for his first merc podium, but Lewis disagreed with it so it didn’t really spark that much tension between them- more the team.

2014

the start of the turbo-hybrid era so y’all know this was good in terms of performance.

2014 Bahrain Grand Prix

They were both fighting for the win and had a collision which prompted a “mock fight” in parc ferme after the race (which I really hope there’s a video of).

Turns out, Nico won because he had used engine modes banned by Mercedes to get a power advantage in the closing laps. which kinda pissed Lewis off

2014 Spanish Grand Prix

Lewis’ fourth win in a row and took lead in the championship. They were fighting till literally the last second and Lewis crossed the line 0.6 seconds ahead of Nico, who says he could have passed him with one more lap.

Lewis defended using the same banned engine modes that Nico had used in Bahrain. Yeah.

2014 Monaco Grand Prix

This is IT. This is peak petty bitch. This is the one people still cry about.

It’s the end of Q3, both of them are out on a lap, Nico ahead of lewis. Nico’s already on provisional pole but Lewis is pretty close.

And then,, Nico just,, parks his car?? He says he made a mistake but the guy doesn’t even crash he straight up just,, rolls to a stop into a slip road. So the yellow flags come out forcing Lewis to abort a lap that was in the makings of pole.

The stewards say it was a-okay but Lewis was convinced it was intentional (and let’s be honest, yeah it probably was) and he even claimed that merc’s data proved it. (low key surprised he didn’t just tweet out the telemetry but I guess he got a stern telling off from mclaren last time)

But *this* is when Lewis tells the world that they aren’t friends anymore. An iconic interview.

Nico then wins the race too, ending Lewis’s four win streak and putting Nico in the lead of the championship.

2014 Hungarian Grand Prix

Lewis has an engine failure in quali meaning he starts from the pit lane, but he does good to make his way up the pack but THEN there’s a safety car which puts him ahead of Nico but on a different strategy.

Nico asks if Lewis can let him past as he needs to pit again before the end of the race, which will give him the place back anyways. Lewis straight up refuses, he’s on a role here. He started from last, and Nico started from pole, why should he slow down to let his title rival through.

Mercedes strongly suggest that his blocking fucked up Nicos race but Niki Lauda is on Lewis’ side so he doesn’t get punished (We stan a supportive father figure) even though he did blatantly refuse to be a team player.

And guys, this is the last race before the summer break so you know Nico was left seething for four weeks.

2014 Belgian Grand Prix

Second lap, Nico attempts a clumsy move and there’s contact, giving Hamilton a puncture and knocking him out of the race.

There’s a lot of controversy but basically it turns out he crashed with him intentionally, not backing out of the corner to “prove a point”. Nico ended up finishing second but was punished by the team, forced to apologise, and even booed on the podium.

2014 Abu Dhabi

For some reason it ran for double points?? The first time in History??? But idk???

Lewis had a perfect start and went on to win it and take the title, Nico had a problem and was told to retire the car but he kept going anyway and finished 14th. Nico went into the cool down room to congratulate Lewis on the championship win, which. cute.

Lewis claimed his second championship. Which not only was huge because of the inter team rivalry, but also because of the large gap between his first win. This guy had lost out on winning the championship in his ROOKIE season by ONE POINT, and then WON it in his SECOND season, and then there was like a FIVE YEAR gap before he won it again.

2015

Damnnn this car was fiiiinneeeeeee.

They do more laps in testing than any other car AND do it on a single power unit. And then. Australia. They take a one-two THIRTY FOUR seconds ahead of the third place Ferrari.

2015 Chinese Grand Prix

Nico is second in a one-two but claims that Lewis kept backing him up into Seb, trying to compromise his race (and help out his boyfriend).

Lewis gave zero shits: "It's not my job to look after Nico's race, it's my job to manage the car and bring the car home as healthy and as fast as possible. That's what I did."

2015 U.S. Grand Prix

If Lewis wins here he could also claim the title with three races to spare (you have to remember back then the title fight often went up to the last race so this was pretty cool)

Lewis very aggressively forced Rosberg wide at Turn 1 to claim the lead, and then there was some sexy fighting between the Mercs and Redbull all race. Nico led in the closing stages but made a mistake, running deep into a corner and letting Lewis past with only a handful of laps to go.

Nico finished P2 and had not only lost the race but the championship title. Nico was fuming, saying Lewis’ move at the start was “one step too far”.

This is the infamous cap throw in the cool down room. Lewis throws Nico his P2 hat, Nico straight up yeets it back at him. I tear up just thinking about it. They grow up so fast.

2016

Nico had came so close to winning and I guess this was just, the last straw. All or nothing. This year he literally gave it everything he had. Lewis and him stopped speaking, Nico gave up literally the rest of his life and even stopped sleeping in the same bed as his wife and taking care of his kids, instead spending every moment trying to get into Lewis’ head. Honestly, I think he might be the only one that could beat Lewis. Just because he knew him *so well*. He literally threw away like 16 years of friendship. But also it’s like, he had to be world champion. He *had to*. His dad was champion and his whole life he’s been preparing to win it too. Tough luck that he raced in the same era as Mr. Best Driver The Sport Has Ever Seen.

Nico won the last few races of 2015, and the first four races of 2016. Lewis had a couple car problems and Nico had a good lead on him in the championship.

2016 Spanish Grand Prix

Gentlemen. A short view back to the past. Nico had made a switch error on the formation lap causing the car to go into the wrong engine mode. So he was running a lot slower than Lewis, who was fighting to claim back the lead.

Nico closed the door to keep him back, and Lewis lost control on the grass, and spins into Nico and taking them both out of the race in the first lap. This is probably one of the most iconic crashes. I’m pretty sure there’s a clip of this somewhere in black and white with the titanic music over the top.

Niki Lauda blamed this one on Lewis (I guess even a supportive dad has to be critical sometimes) "Lewis is too aggressive. It is stupid, we could've won this race".

2016 Austrian Grand Prix

Nico had been struggling with a brake issue all race but was still on the way to win it. But in the last lap Lewis had caught him up and gone in for the overtake.

Typical Nico not taking any shit, refusing to be the guy that backs out and they collide. Lewis took the win and a damaged Nico dropped to fourth. From first. In the last lap.

Both of them blamed each other and tired dad team boss Toto Wolff threatened team orders in future races.

The stewards blamed Nico for the incident, issuing him two penalty points for failing to allow "racing room" and causing a collision.

2016 Abu Dhabi

In the final laps of the race, Lewis ignored team-orders from his race engineer and the technical director.

He deliberately slowed and backed Nico into the pack hoping they overtake him, and there would be enough of a points difference to win the title.

Nico finished second and won the title by five points.

And then,,, Nico announced a surprise retirement during the FIA prize giving ceremony.

Lewis’ response:

"This is the first time he's won in 18 years, hence why it was not a surprise that he decided to stop.” (We stan a petty king)

“But he's also got a family to focus on and probably wants to have more children. Formula One takes up so much of your time."

“In terms of missing the rivalry, of course because we started karting when we were 13 and we would always talk about being champions. When I joined this team, Nico was there, which was something we spoke about when we were kids. So it's going to be very, very strange, and, for sure, it will be sad to not have him in the team next year."

And now they are kind of on speaking terms but not really, they are both pretty private but I think they are at the ‘awkward small talk when we run into each other at the supermarket’ stage of the break up.

[roanniom]

The Night That Follows

Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 8,000~ 

Summary: While celebrating a successful mission, you and Poe accidently ingest a mysterious beverage that makes it hard to resist one another, helping you forget the stress that weighs you down and the friendship that you’ve been holding between you two as a shield. 

Note: This is my first ever non-ADCU fic and it is dedicated to the ever lovely and supportive @paper-n-ashes who urged me to get out of my comfort zone and cheered me on.  

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, sex pollen, drugged drink (it’s drugged with the sex pollen by a 3rd party and not with malicious intent but it still might be triggering), masturbation (f/m), PIV sex, unprotected sex, war-related angst 

When people talk about war, they often discuss the paralyzing fear, the numbing depression. Hopelessness that spreads through your veins like cold water as you face immeasurable odds and stare death in the face day after day. And you can attest to these feelings. You experience them with each dawn that breaks, muddy in the sky regardless of the atmosphere shrouding whatever planet you find yourself waking on each morning. Your life is transient, full of ships and bases and camps. The constants are the clothes on your back, the friends in your squadron (those who survive), and the x-wing you hop in each time danger calls.

The other constant is the part of war that people do not discuss. The rush of adrenaline every time you make it out of a tough scrape. Adrenaline that burns your veins, evaporating the icy hopelessness that had flooded you up until the minute your boots hit turf and your jellied knees catch up to the reality that you are still very much alive. The euphoria that crackles in your brain when you spy your best mate zooming down from above, finally landing and throwing themselves into your arms in the hug you never thought you’d experience again after their coms had gone down in a fire fight. The absolute debauchery of a night of celebration after such a fire fight. Because nobody needs to live quite as much as those who may die.

Which is how you find yourself here, on this non-descript jungle planet, the name of which you didn’t catch during your descent because honestly there have been so many jungle planets and they have all become little more than coordinates on a screen to you at this point. You and your squad have been set up with a mini-festival by the resistance-sympathizing locals as a thank you for your recent decimation of their First Order oppressors. The operation had been pretty seamless, thanks in no small part to the excellent teamwork between you and a one Poe Dameron.

Your flying today had rivaled some of his best, which is certainly saying something since Poe prides himself on being the best pilot in the resistance. You certainly gave him a run for his money, outflying TIE fighters and swiveling shuttle cannons in a perfectly choreographed tandem maneuver wherein the two of you manipulated your assailants to ultimately destroy themselves.

As you knock back a burning shot of the local alcoholic beverage, the liquid tingling and warming you all the way down, you search the triumphant crowd for the cocky pilot who had helped you set the stage for this celebration. You wouldn’t dwell on the earlier events of the day much more tonight. Wouldn’t think much of the comrades you’d lost in the struggle. That was an ache that would throb back to life tomorrow. Tonight, the priority is living.

It is then that you lock eyes with Poe Dameron through the throngs of semi-drunken revelers. His handsome face splits into a wide, cocky grin, so you adopt an exasperated smirk in response as he pushes his way towards you. Such is the game you play. A dance, if you will. Poe plays the role of the self-assured, overly confident golden boy while you, his long suffering partner, humble him with your good-natured criticism and ever rolling eyes.

“Alright there, Sweets?” Poe practically drawls as he reaches you, the nickname both a term of endearment and a teasing reference to the sweet tooth that keeps you hoarding candies of all kinds in your bunk, much to Poe’s own benefit. You beam up at him and upend your little glass to demonstrate its emptiness.

“On my way there, Fly Boy.”

“Looks like you’re falling behind, rookie. Like you did on that triple barrel twist today.”

You throw a punch that lands a little too lightly on his shoulder to produce the grunt and showy flail that he graces you with.

“First of all, you’re not allowed to call me rookie anymore. Your dumb ass might need to be constantly reassured that you’re ‘best pilot in the resistance,’ but by now I am, at worst, second best.” Your gut warms and you’re not sure if it’s the drink or Poe’s deep, full-bodied laugh in response. “And second of all, we don’t talk about the day if we make it to the night.”

Poe almost seems to sober at your words, a phrase of his tossed back at him. The smile remains, though, and he tosses an arm around you before dragging you over to the table that’s been set up with refreshments.

“Right you are, Sweets,” Poe agrees quietly. Louder now and injecting you two into the crowd surrounding the cluster of bottles, he continues, “as for you being second best pilot, I’d rather let the squad decide before you go getting a head too big to fit in your helmet.”

This receives a laugh from the crowd as well as another smattering of slaps thrown towards Poe’s chest.

“Dameron, we all know you already have your own helmet custom made so you can stuff that massive ego in there,” your friend Myrna.

“And those curls,” you add, reaching up and ruffling your hand through his hair in that way that always makes his nose scrunch up in mock anger.

“If you must know, there’s something else they also have to custom make me…” Poe says, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand to slide down his chest towards the bottom of his flight suit zipper and wiggling his eyebrows. You shriek and yank your hand away.

“In your dreams, Dameron.” Poe leans down toward you so that his face is close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your cheeks.

“Or perhaps in yours?”

Suddenly a small, wrinkled face appears between you. It’s an elderly female member of the local alien race and she’s beaming up at you, holding two steaming mugs and smiling around a garbled statement in a language you don’t recognize.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m not sure I…” you interrupt her, glancing awkwardly between her massive eyes and Poe’s confused ones.

“I might be able to translate!” Myrna cries out, stumbling forward with a newly refilled glass in her hand.

“You sure that’s not just the liquor talking?” Poe asks with a chuckle. Myrna waves him off and kneels unsteadily to listen to the old woman. More garbled speech issues forward as the woman gestures between you and Poe with her mugs. Myrna nods several times and gives little hums of agreement and affirmation. You and Poe trade glances of amusement during the interaction, but you have to look away when the upturned corner of Poe’s mouth begins to distract you.

“Alright alright,” Myrna pipes up. You turn back in time to see Myrna standing back up to her full height, now holding the two mugs, while the woman waddles back into the crowd.

“What’s the deal?” Poe asks, slinging his arm back around your shoulders. You resist the knee jerk actions that come to mind, both to slap his touch away and to lean into it, standing rigid instead.

“She said these are for you,” Myrna says, pushing the steaming mugs into your hands and Poe’s.

“Did she say why?” You peer at the milky, opalescent contents curiously. Myrna has already moved on, however, turning back to the pilot she’d been hanging on before you and Poe had approached. You look to Poe but he shrugs.

“I don’t know, something about you guys deserving it.” Myrna waves her hand dismissively, obviously ready to get back to her own evening. You look up at Poe, unsure, but he’s nodding and smiling.

“Hear that, Sweets? Seems like word travels fast that we’re the top two pilots,” Poe says cheekily, clinking his mug to yours before throwing back his head and downing its contents in one gulp. Your insides ignite at his acknowledgment, as well as the bob of his adam’s apple, but your eyes still flit warily to your beverage.

“We don’t even know what it is and you’re drinking it?”

“Honey, I’m pretty sure that liquor we were taking shots of earlier was actually jet fuel, I don’t think we need to be too worried about this.” Poe smacks his lips and runs his finger around the inside of the mug. “And besides, it’s really kriffing good.”

Watching the way his cheeks hollow out as he sucks the last dregs of his drink from his finger makes a heat boil in the pit of the stomach. You decide you actually are quite thirsty, and since your curiosity is stronger than your apprehension, you knock the liquid back yourself.

“Atta girl!” Poe cheers you on, nudging you. The drink is sweet and thick on your tongue like a melted version of the ice cream you’d tasted once, many years ago. You can still remember the creamy texture, very much worth the credits paid to the traveling vendor who’d brought it to your village during the hottest summer of your childhood. As you swallow this liquid down, however, its cold temperature changes into a burn, similar to alcohol, though smoother than any liquor you’d ever had.

“Good, right?” Poe asks, eyebrows raised. You nod and lick your lips, sure that you’re imagining things when Poe’s eyes flicker down to your darting tongue.

“That was actually pretty good,” you concede with a grin.

“So what have we learned tonight?” Poe prompts, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it next to his on a nearby table. You shake your head.

“Your cockiness extends to believing locals on a miniscule planet find you special?”

“The correct answer was ‘always give things a chance,’ Sweets, but you can continue being closeminded if you want,” Poe responds with a chuckle. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to walk away.

“Fine!” You reach out and grab his arm before he can leave. When he rounds back on you with a wide smile you roll your eyes and refuse eye contact. “And just so you know, I’m a lot more open minded than you think, Dameron.”

“Is that so, rookie?” You bristle but as the glee raises in his eyes at your reaction you do your best to tamp it down.

“I’m…flexible,” you say, your grin begrudging. A hubbub breaks out beyond you in the crowd as the makeshift band that had assembled to play party music transitions to a particularly festive song, causing both you and Poe to watch as people begin forming an impromptu dance floor. When Poe turns back at you and raises his eyebrows, expectant, you throw up your hands defensively.

“No. Don’t look at me like that, Fly Boy,” you’re quick to say, but Poe’s even quicker, having already grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to him. Your body collides with his and his other hand finds the dip of your waist.

“Oh I’m sorry, what was that I just heard someone say about being open minded?” Poe asks. In a sudden fluid motion he dips you, bending you over so that your back is parallel to the ground and his face hovers over yours. “Being flexible?”

You let him pull you back up and steady yourself with a hand on his chest to catch your balance, dizzy now, most likely from the suddenness of the motion. You’re about to toss back a witty retort, possibly something that will knock him down a few pegs, but then you catch the glint in his eye and a smile spreads across your lips unbidden.

“You get one dance, Dameron.”

~*~

One dance turned into many, as it turns out. The band, upon realizing their audience’s appetite for raucous music, had begun a steady rotation of upbeat tunes. The dance floor had expanded, spilling out of its original confines in the center of the town square and into the concession areas on the perimeter. Resistance members danced and drank, their bodies jumping and moving to the beat in one chaotic mass of excess energy and euphoria. Bodies writhe against one another in all directions as people seek out friction that can confirm to them that they did indeed survive the day’s trials.

You’re experiencing friction of your own in your little portion of the dance floor. Where things had started out innocently – energetic bouncing to the beat and moving in unison – the tone had long changed. At this point Poe is behind you, arms slung dangerously low on your hips to hold you against him, hands pressed right above your pelvis. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back, his hips bracketing your ass – you’ve lost yourself in the sensations. The rhythm of the music shakes through your muscles but instead of tense and tired, they’re loose and buzzing.

Though truth be told, they aren’t the only thing buzzing. The proximity of Poe’s hands to your lower body feels charged like a magnet. Without thinking you press your hands over the backs of his, encouraging pressure on your lower abdomen. You swear you hear Poe growl behind you has his hands pull you further to him, but it could also be the roar of the crowd. Your hips move in sync, your ass grinding against him in time with the music. Escapism in its purest form is what you’re experiencing in Poe’s arms, held against Poe’s body, matching Poe’s motions. It’s heady and distracting and everything you could ask for to make living feel like living, especially in the aftermath of a day centered on death. You’re content to let this moment last as long as the universe allows.

That is until you realize that the increasing beat you’d thought was a shift in the music is actually the rapid crescendo of your own heartbeat.

Swallowing you find your throat is thick, saliva pooling in your mouth inexplicably. You take a deep breath and allow your mind to reel. How long had you been feeling like this? Why hadn’t you noticed these feelings coming on?

One of the large hands at your hip begins sliding up along the plane of your side and you get your answer. The weight of his touch lights your skin on fire as it drags up and across your collar bone. Your breath feels ragged, rattling around in lungs that can’t seem to take in oxygen no matter how high your chest rises and falls. Poe’s hand lingers on your throat for a second so you swallow again, with even less luck than before. His hand reaches up to grip your jaw which he uses to turn your head back toward him.

Oh.

Poe continues to move behind you, his motions controlling you both on the floor, but his face is strained. Sweat dots his temples, gleaming in his curls, and his teeth seem gritted, making his jaw set at a striking angle. His eyes pin you down, however, and they keep your attention as you gaze back, wide-eyed.

“You okay, rookie?” Poe’s voice is deeper than normal, huskier. The way it reverberates through your body makes a rumbling bubble up deep inside your chest. The beginnings of a moan, perhaps? You’re quick to gasp a response before such a sound has a chance to make its way into the air between you.

“I’m…feeling quite strange.”

The hand still at your waist tightens its grip while the other rejoins on the opposite side. You have to gasp again to keep from moaning. Suddenly you’re being maneuvered forward, Poe’s guidance weaving you through the crowd with ease despite the congested revelry.

Neither of you see the way Myrna is watching you both with a knowing smirk from her place draped around her own handsome pilot beau. Or the way the little old woman who’d gifted you the beverage hovers on the outskirts of the dance floor, a proud look on her wrinkled face as she eyes your retreating figures.

~*~

You’re not really able to follow where Poe is directing you, mainly because of how the imprint of his hands on your body seems to be searing into your skin through your flight suit. While your accelerated heart rate was the thing you had been most worried about, now you are equally worried about the dull ache that has seated itself in the pit of your stomach. You bite down hard on your lip to keep the moan from spilling out, the one you’ve been suppressing since the moment you became conscious to your current discomfort.

When Poe’s stride finally slows to a stop only then are you able to take in your surroundings. Blinking, you’re surprised to find that you’re now outside of the town, far from the lights and bustle of the party, walking into the silent clearing that contains the squadron’s parked aircrafts.

“Why are we all the way out here?” you ask, unsettled by how deep your voice sounds in the darkness.

“Needed to get away from the crowd.” You’re even more unsettled by how breathless Poe’s voice is as he says his first words since the dance floor. So unsettled that you turn in his arms so you can finally take in his disheveled appearance fully.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, it’s the weirdest thing. One minute everything was fine and the next…”

“You can’t catch your breath,” you finish for him and he nods gravely. Both of your chests are practically heaving, pressing into each other with each exhale. When you become aware of this, it also brings awareness of the way his chest pressed up against yours is also adding pressure to your nipples. Since when were your nipples hard? The night is balmy, a cool breeze barely able to disturb the moist warmth that settles in the jungle terrain. You feel sweat begin to collect on the back of your neck and your hairline, much like the sweat causing Poe to shine a bit in the moonlight. And yet your nipples are hard and a shudder runs through your body, nerve endings clearly ten steps ahead of you, taking in some experience to which you’d yet to catch up.

“Wait a minute, look at me,” Poe suddenly orders, his fingers wrapping around your chin to lift your face toward his. You freeze as he stares down at you, eyes widening at whatever he sees.

“What is it?” you ask, voice urgent, almost frightened.

“Your pupils are wide as planets,” he mutters, distracted fingers drawing up the side of your jaw to press to the pulse point at your throat. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“I haven’t been able to calm down,” you say, nodding but getting more worried by the second. “Why can’t I calm down? Are you feeling the same way?”

Poe’s mouth presses into a hard line and he turns away abruptly, head tilting down.

“Oh fuck.”

“What?” You try to pull him back toward you but he doesn’t budge.

“I think…we’ve been drugged.”

Your blood runs cold and a hand flies to cover your mouth. You’d known tonight was too good to be true. Your mind races, making connections out of thin air, trying to place when and where you could have possibly come in close enough proximity to First Order agents to be compromised.

“But what – how – what can we do? What is it? Is it deadly?” You’re cut off by a sound issuing from Poe’s now curved body. You wonder at first if it’s a sob, which makes sense because you’re about ready to cry yourself. But then you realize it’s a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say deadly. Just exceedingly inconvenient.”

“So you know what it is then?” you prompt, tugging at his shoulder some more to try and see his face. “Tell me!”

“Well for starters I’m pretty sure it was that drink the old woman gave us.”

Fuck.

Of course. What was the one suspicious thing you’d ingested all day? The fact that you hadn’t thought about it sooner makes you want to kick yourself, but you press on instead, anxious to have the matter dealt with.

“What does it do?” You hate the tremor that colors your voice. At that Poe finally turns around and you take him in all at once, trying to assess what he could have been hiding. His tall, wide-legged stance makes it easy to notice after a few seconds. As your gaze moves lower on his body you finally see the massive tent forming below the zipper line of his flight suit.

Without even being able to mentally process what you’re looking at your body responds immediately. A rush of warmth and wetness floods the apex of your thighs and the moan that you’d so far been able to hold in finally makes it way out of your throat. Poe’s eyes, which had recently gone hooded, widen in response to the lewd sound. You clap a hand over your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his face, away from the rigid shape that had made the muscles inside you contract wantonly around nothing.

“It’s made from a plant that’s meant to accelerate sex drive,” Poe says matter-of-factly.

You almost don’t hear him because your eyes have already slid back down his body, feasting on the sight of his impressive bulge. You’d heard stories of Poe’s sexual prowess, many from the man’s own loud mouth. You knew he’d satisfied many members of the Resistance, male and female alike. But you had never truly let yourself consider what he’d be like. What he’d look like. What he’d feel like…

“Why would she possibly give that to us of all people?” You feel like you’re going to cry. The feelings coursing through your body are overwhelming.

“Maybe she went around spiking many people at the party. Maybe she just thought you and I would look hot together? You can’t blame her for that one.” Poe winks at you and it diffuses some of your angst. You let out a tense laugh and shake your head.

“How do we make it stop?” you force yourself to ask, just as you force yourself yet again to look back up in his eyes. Poe averts his own, a sheepish look overtaking his face. When he doesn’t answer you step forward and grab his arm in alarm, trying not to consider the way his bicep bulges under his sleeve. “Poe?!”

“We have to…take care of it.”

You’re launching yourself away from him before he can finish the sentence. You probably knew the answer before you’d even asked the question, but his words still sent electricity through your spine.

“We can’t. That’s…that’s crazy – you’re crazy, Dameron!”

“Hey, you think I like this? Standing here like an idiot with my dick so hard I can barely see straight?”

The sexual nature of his words, spoken so plainly and without euphemism for the first time, makes a new wave of wetness pool between your legs against your will.

“Don’t….talk about it,” you say through gritted teeth, closing your eyes in an attempt to center yourself.

“What? Don’t talk about my aching cock?” he asks, almost as a challenge. He’s frustrated now, egged on by your attitude.

“Stop it.”

“Are you about to tell me you aren’t wet right now?”

You turn your back on him in a childish and fruitless attempt at blocking out his words. When you don’t reply you hear his footsteps as he approaches from behind.

“If we’re both having the same reaction, and I’m certain we are, then I’d imagine you’re practically dripping right now.”

His words would have made your eyes cross if you didn’t have them shut so tightly. A hand molds around your hip while the other grasps at the side of your neck, both working in tandem to pull your back flush against his front. The impact, though gentle, knocks the wind out of you. Or whatever wind had been in you in the first place. His lips are at your ear then and you melt into his touch.

“If we take care of this together we’ll go back to normal.”

“…back to normal?” you ask, simply repeating and not really aware of your words.

“Exactly.”

“I…I don’t know.” Poe’s hardened length is pressing into your ass now, insistent and firm behind you. The hand on your hip migrates lower to pull you against him. A swivel of his hips causes your own to follow the momentum, gyrating in their own right.

“We can be quick,” Poe coos, his voice vibrating over your earlobe where his lips are making contact with your skin. Another low chuckle sounds. “Or I can take my time if you want. Either way, I can promise you’ll enjoy it.”

There’s your cocky Fly Boy.

You wrench yourself from his grasp and take a few steadying steps away before gaining the wherewithal to turn back and face him once more. He looks supremely disappointed, arms still outstretched in the place where you had just been.

“Does this really have to be a…team effort?” you ask, face screwed up with discomfort. Poe runs a hand through his hair and casts a distracted glance about your surroundings.

“I mean I guess theoretically one could take care of themselves – ”

“Great!” you cut him off and stalk around to the other side of his x-wing. Of course he’d brought you to his ship. You look around for your own but when you can’t find it you plop yourself down on the ground.

“Are you kriffing serious?” comes Poe’s angry voice behind you as he stomps over. “We could bang this out and feel better but you’re just going to – ”

“Oh ‘bang’ this out? Real nice, Dameron.”

“You know what I mean.” You can practically hear his eye roll.

“The other side,” you say simply, lowering the zipper on your flight suit. When you don’t hear the sound of his retreating footsteps, however, you pause. “Stay on the other side of the ship, Dameron.”

He grumbles but does as you say. When you finally hear the sound of him throwing himself to the ground, you lift the tab of your zipper again. However, the loud and sudden ziiiip indicating that he’s yanked open his own garment seems ring out then in the clearing and you’re inundated with mental images of what that must look like. Poe sprawled on the ground with his flight suit open and askew. You imagine the expanse of his chest, the way the muscle would ripple in the shadows of the jungle. You’d seen him without a shirt before, the arms of his flight suit tied at his waist as he reclined beneath his x-wing making repairs. Covered in sweat and grease. The memory and the subsequent lurid thoughts have you dipping your hand down into the small opening you’ve made in your clothes, not fully comfortable enough to expose yourself entirely to the elements. When you reach the place between your thighs you have to swallow the gasp that bursts forth at the realization that Poe had been right. You’re not just wet. You’re dripping.

“Fuck.”

You think you say it quietly but a chuckle from the other side of the ship proves otherwise.

“Need any help over there?”

You ignore him and try to focus in on your own body, closing your eyes. You allow a hand to ghost over your breast as you ease a finger through your folds. You feel the insistent thrumming of your pulse even down below and your breath is shallow in your chest. The images dancing behind your eyelids show you flashes, glimpses of things you try to banish from your mind. The angle of Poe’s jaw. His faint, ever present stubble. The arch of his eyebrow. The curve of his smirk. His ass in those pants.

“Sweets…”

Poe’s voice interrupts a whimper you hadn’t even realized you were releasing.

“Poe.” Your voice is small and it cracks around his name. Your muscles are contracting but nothing you do eases the sensation. It just continues building within you. “It hurts.”

“Just come over here. I don’t even have to touch you. Just let me help you through it.”

You ponder the darkness before you, the way it envelops the other aircrafts in this makeshift parking zone. You hear a shick shick shick behind you and your cunt aches. Completely in response to the siren call of Poe Dameron’s building pleasure. You’re immediately intensely jealous. Jealous of the way that, you assumed, he was having more luck getting himself off than you were, despite the fingers inside you right now. Jealous of the way his voice didn’t crack when he beckoned you over.

But most of all jealous of the fact that he’s the one currently touching his hard cock. Not you.

You will yourself to stand up, pulling your hand out of your flight suit but not bothering to zip it back up. On jelly legs you make your way to the other side of the ship. The far side, facing away from the town square and the distant glow of the party you’ve now forgotten.

As you round the edge of the x-wing you bite your lip at the sight before you. Poe is indeed sprawled out with his suit zipped all the way down. His thick member protrudes from the bottom of the opening, a fist moving up and down rapidly, pulling from root to flushed tip in skilled motions. However the eyes that gaze up at you from under his unruly mop of curly hair are not doused with pleasure and satisfaction as you’d imagined. Instead he looks pained, almost agonized. At the sight of you he sits up a bit and does his best to give you a reassuring smile though it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, rookie.”

“That’s the drink talking,” you dismiss, despite the way your stomach swoops as you move to settle yourself down next to him, careful not to make contact. “And you know I hate you calling me rookie.”

“I’ll call you anything you want, baby, as long as you start touching yourself.”

Your cunt pulses at his words so suddenly that you almost double over. Your breathing, already ragged, speeds up as you feel the overwhelming urge to have something deep inside you. Dropping your hand into the opening in your suit you halt, however, watching Poe warily in your peripheral vision. He catches you looking and reluctantly stills the hand moving on member.

“Would sitting back to back help?” he sighs. You nod, scrambling over so that your back is to his.

This is better. This is much better, you think as you dip your hand back between your legs and into the waiting slick. You drag a finger in tight circles over your clit and do your best to calm the racing thoughts that flit back to images of Poe’s body.

The body that is currently pressed to yours, though not at all in the manner you would prefer.

Poe grunts then, making you lose your rhythm.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted you, you know.”

You cut your answering gasp off at the source, not daring to make a sound lest it interrupt this information that you desperately needed to here. He interprets your silence correctly and continues.

“I’ve thought about you. When I’m in the cockpit on my way to some distant planet. When not even hyper speed can get me there quick enough before thoughts of you creep in.” He almost sounds mad, but you get it. The emotions coursing through your body along with the hormones are driving you wild and you don’t know how to feel.

“What…what are the thoughts about?” you can’t help but ask.

“I’d love to say it’s your smile or your brains or something sweet like that. And I do think about those things too, don’t get me wrong,” he says on a hoarse chuckle. “But it’s mainly your body.”

You slip a third finger inside your cunt as he says this, his words and the feeling mixing to cause you to let out an unchecked moan. You feel Poe’s body shudder against you.

“Shit Sweets you’re killing me.” You feel him tense as his hand begins moving faster. “I think about how you look poured into that flight suit. The way your tits and ass jiggle when you hop into your x-wing – fuck.” Another shudder wracks through his body and you can’t take it anymore. The way you’re touching yourself isn’t the way you usually do it. Not in those rare moments where you’ve got the sleeping quarters to yourself and you’re able to get yourself off in your bunk to images of a chiseled jawline, a clothed bulge, rippling muscles, soft, curly hair…

You abruptly pitch yourself forward to balance yourself on your knees and one hand while the remaining hand redoubles its efforts between your legs. The shift in position ends your physical contact with Poe and he swivels to see.

“What are you – ”

“Don’t turn around,” you gasp out. Your new angle works in your favor as your swollen clit becomes more sensitive, pulled down by gravity so that every swipe of your finger becomes more potent. “But for the love of gods, don’t stop talking.”

Poe is taken aback by your sudden forwardness, but he doesn’t let it faze him for long. Instead you hear his renewed efforts at jerking off as the sound of skin swiping across skin, made smoother by spit and precum, gets louder behind you.

“What do you want me to talk about? How much I wish it was your tight little pussy I was fucking instead of my fist?”

The whimper you release at that statement is unlike any sound you’ve ever made and it only spurs Poe on.

“And I just know you’re tight. I know it. And wet too, just like I guessed you were. I can hear it, baby,” he practically growls and you become intensely away of the slick, creamy sounds coming from the rapid in and out, in and out rhythm of your fingers delving into your cunt. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and hear his words and wish the fingers inside you were harder, thicker, him.

“You wish it was my cock inside you, I know you do. You don’t want to admit it but you wish I was pounding into you, making you feel good. Making the ache go away.”

Your answering whine confirms his beliefs and he lets out a triumphant grunt.

“Fuck, baby. I want it, too. Bury myself deep inside of you and fuck you till that drink wears off and you’re still screaming for me, that’s how good it would be.”

“Oh gods.”

“Tell me who you’re wet for.”

“Y-you.” It comes out small. You’re shocked that you even say it, especially with how much you’ve been fighting all of this. You want it. You want it in your bones and in your blood and in your tight, spasming cunt. But you also want Poe’s friendship. Want him to tousle your hair on the way to the hanger. Want him to keep sending you funny messages over your data pad, constantly trying to outdo your own silly riddles and jokes. Want to tease him and eat dinner with him in the mess hall and slap him when he says something stupid and yell at him when he does something dangerous and cry when he doesn’t come back on time from a mission…

A sob finds its way out of your body, sandwiched between two moans. You’re not sure Poe even heard it until his voice reaches your ears again, this time gentler.

“Sweets? Is this working for you?”

You take a shuddering breath before answering.

“No.”

You practically hear Poe slump in defeat, the rhythm of his hand on his length slowing down. You bite your lip before continuing.

“Take me, Poe.”

“What?” Poe whirls around so fast you feel the air woosh over you as he disturbs it. You jump to your feet, still facing away from him and yank your flight suit over your shoulders and down your body, stepping out so it pools on the ground. He watches as you get back down on your hands and knees before him in your underwear, ass in the air, waiting for him to catch up.

“I need you, Poe. Just…just please get inside me,” you say, reaching back to pull the damp fabric of your panties aside, exposing your glistening, swollen folds for him to see.

You don’t have to ask him a third time. He’s on you so fast that you’re confused by his motions. It takes a few seconds before you realize that he’s taken your discarded flight suit and stretched it out on the ground, positioning you over it so that your hands and knees are protected from the dirt. The sweetness of this considerate action is offset by the way his fingers dig harshly into your hips, maneuvering your ass so that it lines up with his pelvis. You tilt forward, aided by pressure on your lower back which raises your click cunt to the level of his cock.  

“I’m going to make you feel so good – ”

“No more words, Dameron. Just shut up and get your cock inside – FUCK.” He spears you mid-sentence and you immediately fall down onto your elbows. Your ass still in the air, held in place by his hard grip, receives a smack and you cry out, feeling no pain. Only pleasure as the sting ripples through you and into your clenching cunt. He feels it deep inside you and groans.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to shut up, baby.” His words issue forth from gritted teeth. “Always fucking teasing me with that fucking mouth.” His hips rut into yours, taking up an unforgiving pace, while the rest of his body folds over yours so his chest pressed flush to your back. One hand closes tightly around your chin, wrenching up your head and dragging a finger over your bottom lip which has grown plump from biting. “This beautiful, bossy fucking mouth. Always telling me off, telling me what to do.”

Your tongue darts out to meet his skin and his other fingers caress your chin in response. It’s a stark contrast to the almost feral way he is still clutching your hip and driving into you over and over.

There’s almost no resistance. You’re tight, cunt clutching onto his throbbing cock in an effort to keep him buried inside, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been and it’s making his thrusts effortless. You assume it’s a side effect of the drink. But in some part of your brain you can’t believe that a plant could possibly make a man’s cock feel as good as Poe’s does right now inside you. How a plant could cause you to feel pleasure that is not simply rooted in the way his hand drags down from your jaw to wrench your breasts out of the cups of your bra. How a plant could in any way magnify the surely already intoxicating feeling of Poe’s mouth working at the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder.

“This working, baby? This doing it?” Poe checks in then, not relenting in his thrusts. Never relenting. “You’re squeezing me, so I know your little pussy likes it.”

A shuddering gasp kicks through you before you can answer his question and he laughs. The vibrations go straight from his cock to your clit and you whimper some more.

“Your sounds. I want to record these little sounds you’re making and play them back when I’m flying. Have you fill the space in my x-wing till I can’t take it any more.” Poe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, nipping and then laving the skin over with his tongue. “I’m going to hear these sounds in my dreams.”

“It’s…just…the drink,” you practically hiccup, barely able to form thoughts from the way your body has focused all energy, all recognitions of nerve endings to the space between your thighs. Poe slaps your ass again and you keen.

“Just listen to yourself, baby. No drink is making you sound this hot. That’s all you, Sweets.”

Before you can argue further you do take a second to listen. To the way your shallow breaths mix with whimpers and whines. The gurgle in the back of your throat when his cock bounces against your cervix. He’s right. It is hot. You are hot. You reach a hand down to your clit, desperate to increase the already mind-blowing stimulation, greedy for more.

“You feel so good. You’re sosososogood,” you barely manage to slur. Despite your inability to fully speak you make the attempt because you assume that if hearing your gasps is egging him on, your words will amplify it. And amplify it they do. Poe’s hips stutter for a second before he drops down heavier on you, thrusting deeper and from a more primal place. A hand savagely kneads at one of your breasts, playing with the nipple.  

“I’ve never been this full. I can’t take it, I can’t…”

“Seems like you’re taking it pretty well, baby,” Poe coos, pressing more kisses to the side of your neck.

“I need m-more,” you gasp, realizing with urgency that the pressure in your core is finally building past the plateau of the last…hour? Half an hour? How long had this been going on? All night? It doesn’t matter because Poe’s inside you and he’s listening to you and suddenly you’re being slammed into with all the force he can muster. He expertly wrings pleasure from your body and you feel yourself careening toward a release that you can’t describe. Just out of reach and full of all the potential energy inherent in an object rocketing toward the moon only to soon plummet back to the depths.

“Poe! I…I…oh fuck…oh gods…I…”

“Go on, baby. Cum.”

“You ha- ahhhh. But you…y-you…” You’re babbling. You’re incoherent, not wanting to leave him behind in the blinding ache that comes before release. Your hands are fisting in the flight suit below you, desperate for something solid, something substantial to hold onto.

“Don’t wait for me, Sweets. Let go.”

And then his hands are closing over yours, fingers interlacing and squeezing down, pinning you to the ground with white knuckles that would hurt if you weren’t squeezing him right back, finally grounded in the way you needed.

And you’re cumming.

And cumming.

You feel every muscle in your body seize and spasm and bliss roils out through you in waves. You shake and stutter under him, feeling fresh wetness gush down around his cock as he fucks you through the feeling. You keep waiting for it to stop but it doesn’t, it only intensifies. It must be a side effect. Of the drink not the man. But when you feel yourself transcending the moment, the way your soul feels like it is literally floating above you, you use the out of body experience to take in the man who is causing this pleasure. The way he cages you in, bracing you through the storm of your orgasm, giving more and more to keep the flame burning as long as possible.

His muscles ultimately seize sometime around when your soul seems to sink back into your body and you’re one again enough with your senses that you can feel him paint your walls with sticky, hot cum. He doesn’t drop his weight on you like other men have after the completion of such exertions. Other men who had focused more on the destination than the journey, leaving you as wanting for release as you were wanting for air under the pressure of their body weight. Instead, Poe pulls you of you and flops to his back in the grass beside you. Without him holding you up you crumble down, face pressing into the fabric of your rumpled flight suit instead of the dirt, thanks to Poe.

A few minutes pass, silent except for the sound of your slowing gasps for air. When your breathing evens Poe sits up on his haunches to guide you back into your flight suit. You’re sticky from sweat and your combined cum, but you couldn’t care less with your bones liquified and your eyelids heavy. Gone is the buzzing ache, in its place a heavy sleepiness. When Poe lays you, now clothed, gingerly back down on the ground you automatically curl into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your body.

Neither of you shares another word. You don’t have to.

Because shortly after you doze off. And for the first time in a long time your final thoughts before sleep overtakes you are not of the dread the morning will bring, but the solace you found in the night.

~*~

When you wake it’s to a dawn as grey as all the ones before it. Hazy with receding fog and with the promise of all the danger that looms ahead in the hours soon to follow. One of the planet’s suns has already breached the horizon, and you raise a hand to cover your eyes as you peer out from under the x-wing’s protective wing. Looking down you take stock.

Your flight suit is on but fully unzipped, leaving your chest and stomach entirely exposed, all the way down to your lower belly. A large hand covers one of your breasts, fingers twitching against your flesh as the man attached to it continues to dream. You follow the length of his arm to take in his body, tucked close into your own, equally unzipped, his broad torso showing through the gaping fabric. You watch Poe’s abdominal muscles contract with his inhales and exhales for a moment while you check in with your body.

The humming from last night is gone, that much is for certain. This makes you believe that the effects of the drink have worn off. You’re quick to question this hypothesis, however, when Poe stirs in his sleep and his hand squeezes down a bit on your breast. Your breath catches in your throat and fire shoots through your veins. A lingering symptom, you wonder. Or perhaps just a normal, biological reaction to sexual stimuli. You kick yourself mentally because of course it has to be the latter. It couldn’t be the third option which you won’t even allow yourself to fully consider.  

You require a shower urgently, it occurs to you suddenly. And food, a realization that coincides with a rumbling in your empty stomach. Knowing you’ll never have a good enough excuse to extricate yourself from this gorgeous man’s arms you steel your nerves and pull away. When you stand, Poe groans and allows an eye to crack open, his hand flying up to shield his eyes from the rising sun. You’re silhouetted against the dawn and he takes in your outline. The curves of you.

“Morning, Sweets,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep this time instead of sex.

“Morning, Fly Boy,” you reply simply with a small smile. You feel a buzzing in the pocket of your suit then and pull out your mini com unit, even more portable than your usual data pad. The message that blares across the screen and you relay it before Poe can reach his own device which had similarly vibrated.

“We’ve got a new mission. Briefing is in an hour and then we take off.” The information feels stilted as it leaves your lips. How can you feel so entirely, earth-shatteringly changed and yet in many ways everything is still the same. The sun still came up. The war still rages on.

You look down at Poe and his intense expression as he watches you makes you think that he’s wondering the same thing.

Your heart thumps in your chest, this time unaided by any drugged drink or the eyes or hands of a man whose existence seemed both your making and undoing. Routine is the only thing that can calm these nerves. Routine is what is required to survive war. Routine and protocol and boundaries.

You zip up your flight suit with finality.

“See you at the briefing?” you ask, though its more statement than question.

“Of course.” Poe’s response is quiet as he continues to watch you from his reclining position. You’re still above him and at a distance, a position he often associates with you.

You smile and give him a good natured salute before turning and making you way back toward the town where you know the rest of the Resistance members are already bustling about and preparing for the day.

Another day you hope you, and Poe, will be lucky enough to outlive.

~*~

Doing a smaller taglist since it’s a Poe fic and I’m not sure if everyone on my usual taglist is into it (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for future work!): @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @tlcwrites @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @direnightshade @leather-flannel-liquor @fizzywoohoo @aliveandlonely @wayward-rose @safarigirlsp @emeraldsiren20 @finn-ray-nal-beads @maryforyou @maybe-your-left

[reimahowaido]

And the last 3! Aaaaaah, oh boy These fellas don’t have as much to themselves as the earlier ones, but there’s still story relevance even if they’re not that closely tied to previously mentioned characters. There are connections, yes, but less to talk about as a whole

Swift Edge - He/Him - Idea from some of the 100% completion pics African Grey Parrot inspired in looks He short, further so due to a slightly hunched over posture Swift is the roundest of the Mawkin included in this listing. He’s just as combat capable as all the rest, but his main focus is in lifting things. He may be short, but comparatively to other Mawkin he can lift quite a lot of weight and that’s really admirable. He’s not that much into fighting overall and prefers to use his energy in carrying and moving things around. Also quite durable, man might not have a shield, but he can take all sorts of hits and is seemingly resistant to damage and ready to get back to lifting things pretty swiftly, meaning he seemingly recovers rather quickly too. Some might call him lazy, and perhaps he is a bit lazy, but mostly he’s just docile and takes after his general - that being White Crow as he is part of White’s unit. A long time member of it in fact, almost the second in command in a way. Swift Edge is decades younger in comparison to White Crow, but past that there’s a bit of an age gap between the two and the rest in the unit. Swift hasn’t sought to promote to a Red Armor, he can help with things but doesn’t necessarily like the pressure of responsibility, so he’s satisfied where he is ~~~~~~~~~ Ebony Lark - She/Her - Fully original Based on the Magpie Lark & Maghreb Magpie (for the bits of purple) One of the shortest Mawkin around Ebony Lark isn’t exactly the most social of the bunch and prefers to keep to herself. She’s just not that interested in spending time with others and would rather focus on other things. Her main job is taking care of artistic elements. Sculpting, carving, detailing... She has a bit of knowledge in fabrics too, but her main forte lays elsewhere. If you need a mural made or someone to craft up the smaller parts of statues, she’s the Mawkin for the job. Diligent and sharp-eyed, she’s devoted to her craft, does her job and that’s enough for her. She can be a bit picky when it comes to materials though, but usually she’ll make just about anything work if needed. ~~~~~~~~~ Soot Rook - He/Him -  Inspiration from a 100% completion pic again Honestly he’s a mess. Gray Catbird might be a stretch, but it’s something (There’s a better explanation as to why he’s a mess at the bottom xD) As average in height as they get Also a member of White Crow’s unit, he’s the newest member and somewhat of a rookie in comparison to the other members. There are other fresh additions to the team too, but Soot Rook is the latest addition. He may not be as experienced as others, but he sure is eager to take part and prove himself. Occasionally he gets a bit nervous and might lock up if overwhelmed, but he’s trying his best and the other members of the unit are fairly supportive - though there’s a limit to everything. And while Soot hasn’t necessarily ever annoyed any Mawkin in the team, he does hope to not risk getting on anyone’s nerves if their patience is being tested already. He does have a habit of being a little unlucky though, and he can occasionally appear a bit clumsy too, but he has good manners and usually a proper apology is all it takes to get past that Little bonus: He used to have. So many potential different variants and versions. First based on the Iberian Magpie and Sardinian Warbler kinda, as well as the Pied Wheatear and I loved these, but boi. They just didn’t have the right feeling to them so I had to pass up on them :C I eventually just pretty much had to go make stuff up to try and get the vibe right. The middle one here is the closest to feeling like what I wanted, but also it just reminds me if a discount Raven Beak xD If the little blue line was dark and he had a more prominent light beak... Uh oh. Rawr’n Bark (and the discount Thoha, Bath Robe) I really like the first and last ones though, but we already got so many fellas fighting for screentime in the writing I don’t think I’ll be able to use the designs through crafting new characters. The creative pain

[hisbucky]

Our Frayed Edges

It all begins here in Winter, 1996.

Left in the streets of LA, a blue-eyed boy finds his home.

This is his story, his life, what he learns and who he grows up to be.

And all it took was a little love

[full fic here]

Main Pairing: Parent!Athena & Adopted!Buck

Featuring (in future chapters): Bathena, Buddie

Rating: M for Mature Themes

Winter, 1996

The weather is cold outside.

Athena doesn’t need to look any further than the light dusting of frost on her patrol car window to know that LA weather as she knows it is going through one of its record lows at the moment.

Hell, she can’t even remember the last time she saw genuine snow in this part of town, and she’s lived here all her life. This is probably the first time she has the car heater turned on in the middle of the day.

It was honestly nothing compared to Big Bear, but just the sight of snow falling this near the coastline was frankly astounding, beautiful even.

And yet something about it is making her feel uncomfortable.

She hears the passenger side door click open and close, bringing with it a slight chill into the heated car. “Freak weather, ain’t it ‘Thena?” her partner’s voice grunts out.

Turning her head to the other, Athena hums in agreement, blinking her eyes when she sees the man holding out a paper bag to her.

“Here, a cup and a whole box of donuts for you. Well, minus one that I took for myself. You deserve it.” Brogan says, a rare smile gracing his face.

“Why thank you,” Athena smiles back, a little touched at the nice gesture from her usually aloof partner. “I’m just glad I finally got promoted, even if I’m the last one in my year.” She jokes, but it clearly falls flat from the way McCluskey sets his jaw.

“That ain’t anyway your fault.” He snorts, “The brass still isn’t ready to accept the fact that my rookie, a proud and independent black woman, is kicking all the other grunts asses by being the best in her year despite all of the prejudice she faced, mine included.”

Athena takes a sip from her cup to hide her pleased smile, more than thankful for her mentor’s support, but unwilling to give herself away so easily. Instead, she teases the older man, “Now, now. Don’t wanna hurt that brain of yours using a big word like that.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Brogan rolls his eyes, prompting a few chuckles between the both of them.

With nothing else much to say, they eat in companionable silence, the friendly mood a staple thing between them ever since they worked out their differences all those years ago, and especially since Brogan had helped her through that part of her life.

Six years already, the line of her mouth thins as Athena remembers. And still nowhere close to figuring out who was there that night.

The night Emmett took his last breath in that grocery store.

Staring outside at the gentle snowfall, Athena quietly broods as she goes through the crime scene in her head, something that might as well be a daily routine of hers for the past six years. Somewhere out there, she figures Rick is doing the same, the both of them having dedicated most of their time off trying to find the bastard who did it.

Athena could barely find anything in her to celebrate her well-deserved promotion right now, or even trash talk the ‘traditional’ old white men who held her back all along. Not when there is still no evidence on that case—no suspects, no fingerprints, no murder weapon.

You’re going to run yourself to the ground, her Mama said.

Now six years in, she’s starting to think her Mama was right.

“Athena,” Brogan’s steady voice clears through the cloud of her thoughts, and a moment later she finds herself apologizing to her partner for being distracted while on duty.

Brogan waves it off, “No, I get it. It’s that time of the year again, and you have more reason than most to mourn for him. If it was my wife…” the man trails off, letting the unspoken words fill the silence.

Taking the chance, Athena changes the subject, “Have you ever seen LA get this cold, Brogan? Unlike Kelly, you were born and raised here.” She offers her box of donuts, to which her partner gratefully takes.

“Could say the same to you,” Brogan grouses, eyes darting around as he takes in the unusually white landscape, “I think the last one was in 1962, and I was like a babe or something, but my Ma and Pa said it was an amazing thing.”

His eyes squint at the scenery, Athena recognizing it as the distrustful gaze he usually reserves for blatant suspects, “Looking at it now, to me it just feels weird to see this. Not to mention the shit I have to check back at my house later because of it.”

Wincing in sympathy, Athena thinks back to her own apartment and about how unequipped it was for cold weather. In unison, the both of them sigh at the thought.

After each of them has polished off their second donut, Athena sets her empty coffee cup and the box aside as Brogan radios in the end of their lunch break, putting them back on radar for the day.

It was just before she pulls the clutch does she notice something else in her peripherals.

“Brogan,” Athena shakes her partner’s shoulder, getting an inquiring hum in return. She points him to the nearby alley, darkly lit, a seemingly innocuous sight to the untrained eye.

Then it happens again, and she knows Brogan sees the flicker of a shadow just like she did when she hears the man take a short breath at her side.

Like a silent agreement, the both of them carefully get out of the car, watching the alleyway closely for any more sudden movements.

From the corner of her eye, Athena sees Brogan’s hand hovering over his gun, and she does the same. If it was just another tweaker all they have to worry about is tackling them to the ground before they could get away, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Just last week there was another officer who got injured because of carelessness after all.

What greets them, however, is nothing like what they expected.

“…M-mom…?” a voice whispers, and Athena zeroes in on the blue eyes peeking at them, the owner just a little boy huddled in the corner, barely wearing anything but a simple t-shirt and a pair of shorts to bear with the cold.

read the rest here