#i know for a fact there is potential for more units

[alligaytorswamp]

there is no anyone would see that on their own so i need to make it everyone's problem... i made a lil section on th for my idol company with cross-group units very fun very important (to me) ^_^

[luxcuriousao3]

Not-So-Creepy Landlord König

Word Count: 1484 Warnings: none Notes: He's just really, really awkward, okay? Go easy on him.

You were convinced your landlord was going to murder you.

It wasn’t even the fact that he was the most massive man you’d ever seen—nearly seven feet tall and with shoulders that spanned the breadth of a fridge—nor was it the fact that his face was heavily scarred. It wasn’t even his awkward attempts at conversation.

No, it was the highly suspicious circumstances in which you were renting your apartment that had you so convinced your grisly death was lurking on the horizon.

You’d found the place on Craigslist—yeah, the red flags were abundant from the beginning, but desperation had you grimacing while strolling right past them—and it had seemed like an answer to your prayers. Two bedroom apartment, small but not cramped, fully furnished, in a nice, safe neighborhood, and best of all, significantly below budget. You weren't even too put off by the listing stating that it was for women only, soothed by the fact that one of the rooms was already being rented by a girl, and she was only comfortable with female roommates. The little profile picture was of a girl, too, and any lingering doubts disappeared. Clearly, she was just looking for someone to split rent with—maybe even desperate herself, considering that she had to be fronting more than half of it. You sent a message and arranged a meeting with her, sure that all was right in the world.

All was not right in the world.

Turned out, the poster wasn't your roommate—instead it was the renter of the room you'd be taking over. The phone number she’d listed in the post belonged to the landlord, and he hadn’t seen fit to warn you that you were talking to a giant of a man and not the petite blonde in the profile picture.

You should’ve turned around and ran right then. But the allure of an in-unit washer and dryer was too strong. It was the promise that all utilities—including electricity—were included in the already dirt cheap rent that sealed the deal, though. Even learning that your landlord—König, he told you to call him in a voice that was surprisingly high pitched for such a big guy—kept some of his personal items stored in your apartment, and would occasionally just pop in to grab them, didn't stop you from making a terrible decision.

(“That’s weird, right?” You asked your best friend, who was staring at you with wide eyes.

“Yes, that's weird! And you signed a lease with him?”

“About that… technically, there’s no lease…”)

And yeah, it was fishy as hell that he didn't have you sign a lease. But the view! It was so distracting, such thoughts just slipped right out of your mind.

Unfortunately, the view wasn't going to save you from ending up on the six o'clock news.

(“So,” you began once the tour of the apartment had ended, craning your neck to look into the eyes of your potential new landlord. Or you would have, if he didn't stare pointedly at a spot just over your shoulder. You chose to ignore that. “I have to ask. Why is the rent so low? Any ghosts I should know about?”

Your landlord—König, you reminded yourself—didn’t so much as smile, and you tried not to wince at your joke falling flat.

“Helping vulnerable, young girls is important to me,” he said, and you gave a full body shudder. “It is my atonement.”

“Besides,” he continued while you mentally mapped the quickest route back to the nearest exit. “I grew up in that flat. I do not wish to see it destroyed by some careless dumkopf with a hammer and too much grey paint.”)

In the end, you’d forked over the euros, and less than a week later, you were fully moved into your new apartment. You locked your bedroom door every night, just in case. You never ate any unsealed foods. You counted your bras and panties every day, and when you noticed your pretty, silk pair was missing, you called off work and started packing then and there.

When you found them in the dryer that night, you realized that you might have, possibly, maybe overreacted.

König hadn’t actually done anything worthy of suspicion. It was just the circumstances and his general vibe that had you on edge. Which wasn’t really fair to him, you knew, and even kind of mean. But you couldn’t help it. Better safe than sorry, and all that.

Because God, but he was just so weird.

Every time you saw each other—which was often, considering that he lived in the apartment above you—he stopped in his tracks, hunched his shoulders, and asked how you liked the apartment, all while refusing to look at you. And every time, you told him it was great, silently counting the seconds until you could get away. He would respond with a random memory about his childhood—”My Oma once started a fire in the kitchen, that is why the curtains are so short. I had to cut off the burnt edges.”—and then leave before you could react to it. It was so baffling it almost pissed you off.

Then he started memorizing your schedule.

Well, you couldn’t say for sure that that was the case, but it certainly seemed like it. Every Monday morning before work, you would go grocery shopping, and when you got home, König was conveniently sweeping the lobby. As always, he stopped what he was doing, asked after the apartment, and dropped another tidbit of landlord lore—but this time, he didn’t immediately run away after. Instead, he plucked the grocery bags from your aching fingers—yeah, you definitely needed to invest in one of those folding cart thingies—and walked up the stairs, ridiculously long legs taking them two at a time. You blinked, confused by what just happened, and then scurried after him. But by the time you got to your door, he was gone, and your groceries were sitting innocently in front of it.

It became a routine. One you didn’t know how to stop. You weren’t even sure you wanted it to stop—it was ultimately harmless, after all, and really quite helpful. But you were still wary of him, and you didn’t want to give him the wrong idea about your intentions. The last thing you needed was your landlord kicking you out (or killing you) because he thought you were stringing him along.

But as the weeks passed by and the dreaded date offer-slash-murder never came, you slowly began to relax. You stopped locking your door at night and counting your sets of underwear. You started eating from containers of food that had already been opened. And tonight, you even brought a guy home for the first time since moving in.

Before he could so much as get his cock out, though, there was a loud, insistent knocking at your door. You ignored it, and told your date to as well.

Fatal mistake.

The door opened, and in walked König. You shrieked, hands flying up to cover your bare chest—which was where his wide, guileless gaze had landed. Figures, the first time he properly looked at you was to stare at your tits—and your date stood up in front of you protectively… only to throw his hands up in a non threatening gesture and start blubbering apologies the second he saw König.

“Oh fuck, man, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend, oh fuck, please don’t kill me, I swear I didn’t know—”

König didn’t answer, having torn his gaze away from your hastily covered breasts to stare resolutely at the wall, his pale, scarred face now a bright red. Your date looked about ready to leap from the second story window rather than try to get around the mammoth of a man standing in your doorway, and you grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him back down onto the couch.

“Get out!” You shouted at your landlord—and yeah, you could worry about whether that was going to get you evicted later—and König jolted before doing exactly that, the door closing behind him with a slam.

Nothing you said could convince your date to stay. He fled your apartment like he had a warrant out for his arrest, and you were once again left in the lurch. One angry wank later, and you went to bed, miserable and furious.

You woke up the next morning to an envelope slipped under your door. Inside was a note and several one hundred euro bills.

Fraulein, I am very sorry for last night. I called to tell you I was coming to get some of my things, but when you did not answer, I thought you were not home. I have returned half your rent from last month. Please forgive me. König

For a red flag, the cash in your hand looked very, very green.

[shouts-into-the-void]

Montresor caring about Will didn't come out of nowhere, Lenore was just mad: a biased completely unbiased post

The thing we need to remember as a rule is that Montresor's default personality is rude and antagonistic even when he's not actively trying to be an aggressor, which means you have to look at what he means rather than necessarily the things he says. He's a clear victim of abuse, who reacts to feelings trapped, cornered, threatened, panicked, or humiliated by lashing out. From what I have gathered, it seems like his mother may have been the type of person who was nice one minute, then became abusive at the drop of a hat, and/or acted loving while claiming she "had to do this for his own good", and he was clearly raised in a very strict religious environment where he didnt have a lot of control/was punished for things he couldnt help. As a reaction, Montresor tries to force an aggressive response out of anyone he feels threatened by, because at least then it's predictable and he feels in control. Okay, great, Montresor analysis out of the way, moving on.

Our first real look at Will and Montresor as a unit is when the clusterfucks (side note: I've seen a lot of people calling them the acoleets now? Far less funny, absolutely not) are discussing their spectres. During this conversation, Montresor is actually hyping Will up, and even when he agrees with Ada that is sounds useless, he makes sure to assure him that it "looks really cool though."

We only really see Montresor become outright violent and dangerous once it's revealed that only one person can win a new life. We see him actively panic about it, and while we don't really get a lot more context for him yelling at Will in the moment, I think its relevant that this is the moment when he starts treating Will less nicely, because now it's a competition and everyone else is potentially out to get him. Hell, he even immediately begins joking around with Will after telling him to shut up, so it's clear that he's acting out of stress and fear immediately after the revelation.

The interaction that immediately follows this is the incident with Morella and Ada, and I find it notable that Montresor goes out of his way to include Will. (when he makes sure to let you get your turn humiliating a woman to prove her loyalty to the group #romantic 🤡)

Later, during the Spectre vs. Students lesson, when Berenice bites Will and he asks for help, Montresor immediately tells her to leave him alone. While he seems mildly annoyed with Will the whole time (kind of understandably, because Will keeps screwing up the plan) he only says anything particularly horrible after Berenice slashes him across the face with her knife, which clearly pisses him off in general. We see him letting Will nap on his shoulder afterwards, which isn't super important I just think it's cute.

Montresor clearly sees them as a unit, as he still involved Will with the plan despite Will messing up the previous night with Duke and stops Will from helping Annabel with Ada despite not having a real reason to do so by saying "We'll sit this one out." Like it should have gone without saying that if he's not doing it, Will isn't either. Then the next day, the fact that Montresor comes to get Will specifically so they can walk to breakfast together? Knows what his toothbrush looks like and goes out of his way to give it back? The little flick on the forehead when he calls him a churchmouse? That he picks up on Will's distress and immediately goes to collect Ada to save him? I see you, fake-ass idgafer.

Which brings me to my next point, which is that it is Lenore on her enraged, vengeful tirade who claims that Montresor hates Will. She claims it's due to his behavior towards Will when he came to get him, but I think its pretty clear she only says it to upset Will. And Will can't think of anything nice Montresor's ever done for him because he's stressed, thinks he's about to get shot, and his self-confidence is super low. He even addresses the fact later that Montresor goes out of his way to save him all the time.

I also think now is a good time to point out that Montresor only seems to physically hurt Will in any significant way when he's been having a flashback. His expression when he comes out of his death flashback to find himself attacking Will is shocked, and while he doesn't apologize, his response does come across as apologetic. He has a similar expression when he wakes up from Ada's vision choking Will, only he looks incredibly panicked that time because he'd done actual damage. The expression on his face when Lenore points out what he's done is pained. I think this runs back to Montresor telling Will not to touch him, I'm pretty sure part of his trauma revolves around physical touch and when he's having an episode of PTSD/not fully aware of his surroundings he lashes out instinctively at the person touching him, which unfortunately means Will, who is a very physically affectionate person (man has 13 siblings and it shows.) Which is unfortunate, because I think Montresor also seems to be a very tactile person, and he actually goes out of his way to be touching Will a lot.

Another interesting thing? Montresor only ever addresses Will by name, which is very significant with context. The nicknames Montresor gives people are meant to mock them, so by only using Will's name it subtlely signals that he holds him in higher respect (or at least in more genuine regard) than the others. In Will's flashback, Sally–someone who went to school with him and was in all the same classes–doesn't remember his name, only that he's one of many Wilson siblings. So for Montresor, who can't even remember his "ace in the hole" and current fling's name, to be constantly making it a point to say he knows who Will is, is a great indicator of his actual feelings. By contrast, Will calls Montresor "Monty" exclusively, the only nickname he receives that is genuinely affectionate and something he never attempts to make him stop calling him.

Which pretty much brings us back to the events of the current episodes, which I've already talked about the significance of in another post. I know this is probably insanely biased for multiple reasons and im sure theres a bunch of little tidbits I've forgotten , but do with it what you will.

[pathologicalreid]

heart to heart | s.r.

in which hotchner!reader is set to have heart surgery, and Spencer can't help but be concerned for her

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x hotchner!reader category: angst content warnings: fem!reader, chronically ill!reader, spencer is anxious, inadvertently made jack hotchner a glass child, hospitals, medications, surgery, heart transplant, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, mostly medically accurate, rejected proposals, spencer's pov, mentions death and dying and wills, howl's moving castle word count: 2.51k a/n: this might be my favorite margotober post of the week. i don't know. it's very introspective. twas a request!

Ironically, his heart was racing. Spencer made his way through the cardiac unit with nothing but his imagination to guide him. He had just left the building a few hours ago when you insisted that he sleep in a real bed, and now he was back.

Your dad hadn’t told him what was going on, he just told him to get to the hospital. It was an hour’s drive from his place in D.C. to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore—you could already be dead by now.

He didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye to you. Not a real, proper goodbye. He told you he’d come back in the morning, which felt ridiculous now.

The sterile fluorescence of the intensive care unit only added to his irritability as he washed his hands upon entry, the CVICU had been your home for the past two months, and in a way, it had become Spencer’s as well. He couldn’t be shocked, you’d been in heart failure for nearly two years, and there was no way he could ignore the worried glances between your doctors and nurses.

You slept more than you were awake most days, Spencer and your dad took turns staying behind on cases, and you usually didn’t have the energy to hold a conversation.

That’s why he’s so surprised to see you sitting up in bed with a cap over your hair, talking to your cardiologist. You looked drained, dark circles gave your eyes a haunted look, but Spencer’s chest filled with relief at the fact that you were still very much alive. “Hey,” Spencer said, looking around the room for even the slightest clue as to what was going on.

Sluggishly, your head turned to look at him, “Hey,” you said back, a weak smile on your face.

He wanted to tell you to lie down, sitting up was obviously draining you of what little energy you had, but more than that, he wanted you to tell him what was going on—he couldn’t guess, he couldn’t bear to be wrong. “What is it? What happened?” His questions were frantic, your father had never called him in the middle of the night like this.

“I’m getting a heart, Spence,” you told him, your voice was gentle.

So, the sky wasn’t falling. The feeling of impending doom that he’s had for the last two years was potentially going to be lifted away, “When?” He asked, stepping further into the room and setting his bag in the chair, crossing his arms as he joined the conversation between you and your doctor.

You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth, “Tonight.”

He needed to sit down.

“We’re just waiting on some final pre-op labs,” your doctor confirmed, nodding at the both of you. “It’s a good match,” he assured Spencer, “I’ll let you two talk.”

As soon as you were alone, Spencer guided you down to the pillows. Too weak to resist, you leaned back until your shoulders hit the pillows, “Where’s Hotch?”

You hummed in response, “Jack freaked out when we told him I was getting a new heart, dad’s with him until our aunt gets here.”

“He’s worried about you,” he observed, sometimes it was hard to put the age difference between you and your brother into perspective, but at times like this, he remembered just how young Jack really was.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head once, “He’s scared that my new heart won’t love him the same.”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “So, what did you tell him?”

You smiled softly, “I told him it was like in Howl’s Moving Castle.” Pausing for a moment to catch your breath, Spencer took your hand in his, “They’re not taking my love away, I’ll be able to love him even more with a new heart.”

“So, now he thinks your heart is on fire,” Spencer pointed out, tucking a stray hair underneath your cap.

Sighing, you shut your eyes for a moment, “Sometimes it feels like it.”

His chest tightened in sympathy while watching you try to catch your breath, vaguely aware that this was the last night that tonight would be like this, “Are you scared?” It seemed like a foolish question to ask, knowing that you’d had more procedures than most people your age, but this was a big one. This was the big one.

You nodded gently, there were so many things to be scared of, surgical complications, transplant rejection, but you looked at Spencer with pity in your eyes. You were pitying him, “My will is in the top drawer of my nightstand,” you started.

“No,” Spencer interjected, denial creeping up on him.

You sighed, it took everything in you to hold back your tears, “Spence, we have to talk about this.”

He shook his head, “No, we don’t. You’re going to be fine.”

“I need you to be rational,” you pleaded. The irony of the situation was not lost on him, you were begging him to think rationally as refusal crept over him. “You know the statistics. In fact, you probably know them better than me,” you said pointedly.

He sniffled, “You have good odds,” he insisted. “Even if you didn’t have good chances, you’ve always been good at beating the odds,” he reminded you. The two of you had said goodbye before, a nasty battle with bacterial endocarditis had put you in a coma, but you had come out of it, sending you even higher on the UNOS transplant list.

Issues with your kidneys had knocked you out of the running for some hearts, so your only hope was a direct donation. It seemed like you were getting your wish. “My heart won’t be as big,” you murmured, not having the energy to debate Spencer on probability.

“No,” he affirmed, “It’ll be a bit smaller.” Your heart muscle was thick as a result of your cardiomyopathy, and your pacemaker wasn’t able to keep up with your deteriorating health. A transplant became your only hope.

You sighed contentedly, “You always made me feel so lucky.”

“Stop trying to say goodbye,” he told you, tilting his head to the side.

Nodding, he could tell that you understood him, “You’ll never get rid of me, I’ll come back and haunt you.”

Spencer shook his head dismissively, “No dying, sweet girl. We’ve got to take care of your new heart.”

A peaceful silence blanketed the two of you, sitting and waiting for someone to tell him it was time to go. He didn’t want to go. He’d go with you to the operating room if they’d let him.

He said goodbye to you in the hallway, watching you get wheeled away before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking to the waiting room, stopping in his tracks at the sight before him.

A majority of the BAU had gathered in the waiting room, taking up all of the chairs on the right-hand side, settling in for the long haul. “Hey,” JJ was the first one to speak, giving Spencer a quick embrace before stepping back, “How was she?”

“She’s good,” he answered absentmindedly, still looking around the room, a few familiar faces nowhere to be found. “She was tired,” and a bit morbid toward the end.

Jack was curled up on one of the loveseats, a blanket tucked over him. Spencer continued looking around, confusion settling in until Emily spoke up, “He’s in the chapel. Rossi and Morgan are with him.”

Hotch was in the chapel, likely lighting a candle for Haley while Rossi and Morgan said a prayer for you. Oddly enough, it brought Spencer comfort to know that his friends were pulling for you in the ways they knew how, especially when he didn’t believe in it himself.

Spencer looked at the bracelet that you had placed in his hands, it was one of your most prized possessions, and should something happen to you, he was under strict instructions to hand it over to your father.

You were still a teenager when you were first diagnosed, and you were scared of having a big scar from open heart surgery, so your mom went out and bought you a charm bracelet. For each procedure after, you’d gotten a new charm for the bracelet with Hotch continuing the tradition after your mother had passed away.

There was no doubt in his mind that there would be a special charm for this surgery, Hotch usually had Penelope and JJ help him pick it out.

Penelope walked in, handing Spencer a cup of coffee. The average heart transplant takes six hours, but you have so much scar tissue that he wouldn’t be surprised if it took longer than that.

You were two years younger than him, and he found himself enamored with you from the moment you met. Your disease had forced you to leave college early, but your dad had set you up with a job in records at Quantico, both to give you something to do and to keep you nearby.

Until you just kept getting sicker, you were the best person they had working in records, but eventually, you had to leave that too.

The rest of the team caught on to Spencer’s crush, but you found yourself avoiding him like the plague. You turned him down eight times before you finally acquiesced, come to find out the only reason you said yes is because Hotch pushed you in that direction. Of all people, your father had just wanted you to continue living your life—he didn’t want you to become a hermit.

You would be one now though, with all of the immunosuppressants you’d be on post-transplant, you’d be spending a lot of time at home.

Rejection became a trend in your relationship when Spencer proposed to you last year. He’d done it properly, asking your father and Jack for permission, but you’d said no, rattling off some excuse about how he shouldn’t shackle himself to someone with one foot in the grave.

That night, after you had all but broken up with him, you’d collapsed and ended up in the hospital. The two of you made a promise to each other. If you ever got a new heart, you’d finally say yes.

The promise had been your idea, claiming that karma had caused you to collapse in your apartment because you turned him down. Spencer didn’t believe in karma and fate the way you did, but he did believe in you. That was enough for him.

Hotch came back up first, setting a comforting hand on Spencer’s shoulder before he walked back to where Jack was sleeping, your Aunt Jessica was back there with the two of them.

They hit the two-hour mark with no update, and Spencer convinced himself that no news had to be good news.

Derek and Rossi had made their way up to the waiting room, pulling out a deck of cards from the hospital gift shop and dealing around the table. Spencer just watched, he’d played more than enough card games in this hospital before, and he’d likely be playing many more in the future.

You’d have to stay in the hospital post-transplant for approximately a month, but it was some comfort to Spencer that instead of your health declining, you would begin feeling better. It hurt to hope, but he found himself excited at the prospect of you regaining your strength.

By the time five hours had passed, JJ and Derek had fallen asleep in their chairs, but everyone had committed themselves to waiting for you.

Spencer wanted to take you home, settle you into your shared apartment together, and let you heal, but you weren’t going to come home with him. When your month in the hospital was up, you’d go home with your dad and Jack. Your apartment didn’t have an elevator, and he worried about you having to use the stairs all the time. Your dad’s apartment had an elevator, so it became the obvious choice.

You told him you didn’t even remember what home looked like anymore. He couldn’t wait to bring you home.

He’d started to worry after six hours had passed, but just before hour seven hit, your cardiothoracic surgeon came out to the waiting room.

Careful not to wake Jack, Hotch stood up from his chair, approaching the surgeon with a wariness that Spencer had never seen from him. He waved Spencer over, silently inviting him to join the conversation.

“Everything went well, she’ll be in the CVICU still for a few days before she’s strong enough to be transferred,” the doctor explained, garnering the attention of some of the other people in the room. “Visiting hours don’t start for a few hours, but if one of you wants to stay with her until she wakes up, then I’d be willing to arrange an exception.”

You’d be waking up in a bright room with a tube in your throat, and having someone that you knew with you when you woke up would hopefully ease some of your fears. As soon as Spencer was about to offer to keep an eye on Jack so Hotch could sit with you, Hotch interrupted his train of thought, “You should go.”

Spencer frowned, glancing over your father, “Are you sure?”

Nodding, Hotch looked back at Jack, still sleeping on the loveseat. “I need to stay with him, and she wouldn’t want him to see her first thing,” he explained.

If Jack’s fear from earlier was any kind of forewarning, Hotch probably had a point when it came to wanting to stay with his youngest. Even still, Spencer protested, “I can stay with Jack.”

There were a number of people in the room who could stay with Jack, but Hotch clearly wanted to stay, “Don’t keep my daughter waiting, Reid.”

He did not have to be told twice, turning around and following the doctor to your room, scrubbing his hands before approaching the door. Faltering slightly at the doorway, Spencer found himself staring at you. There were so many wires and tubes connected to you that he’d have to take his time doing inventory of them all, there was a tube breathing for you, but your heart—your heart was beating steady.

“You can take a seat here,” a nurse said, gesturing to a chair for him to use. He sat down obediently, setting his bag on the ground next to him.

You wouldn’t come out from under the anesthesia for hours yet, but Spencer found comfort in knowing that he’d be here for you when you woke up. He could let you squeeze your hand when you felt pain, and he’d be there to wipe your tears away. At this point, he’d do anything you asked of him.

For now, all he had to do was wait. He clasped your hand in both of his and sat at your bedside, a ring box burning a hole in his messenger bag—waiting for you to be ready for it.

[saphronethaleph]

Fascist, Thus Inefficient

“As you can see, my young apprentice, your friends have failed,” the Emperor said, triumph in his tone. “Now, witness the firepower of this fully armed and operational battle station!”

Luke looked at him in shock.

“Fire at will, Commander!” the Emperor said.

Fourteen months previously…

“Shipment IL-214-73 arriving,” a petty officer reported.

“Thank goodness,” muttered one of the technicians. “After the delays we’ve been having, we need to get those Khyber crystals into the third main focusing array. It’s been on the critical path for a week.”

He brought up the display, frowning. “All right, I think we can make up a bit of time if we just get them straight to cutting and installation.”

“Don’t we need to run them through the testing process first?” a more junior technician asked. “That’s on the list.”

“I know it’s on the list,” the senior tech replied. “But the list was written when they didn’t expect there’d be rebel attacks hitting our supply lines.”

He waved at the screen. “The testing process means heating each individual crystal up to eighteen hundred, even though we know Khyber can all handle temperatures of up to forty-seven-fifty. The cutting process doesn’t rely on heat tolerance either. Any crystalline flaws will come out in cutting, and we can just junk them. It means cutting takes a bit longer, but by going straight to cutting we can save at several hours on the overall process. And you know how much time we’ve lost already.”

The junior tech looked worried, then shook his head.

“All right,” he replied. “I guess so.”

“You need to learn how things are done in practice,” the senior tech said. “No big deal.”

Eleven months previously...

“I’m quite sure Rothana Heavy Engineering’s XJ-15 hypermatter feed systems will meet your needs better than the alternatives,” the Rothana representative said, as Admiral Jerjerrod examined the datasheet.

He wasn’t so sure. The newer units had better specifications, certainly, but they weren’t proven, and they were also somewhat more expensive.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily the case,” he said, out loud. “While I appreciate Rothana’s position, the Sienar alternative has similar flow rates and more proven applications.”

The Rothana representative nodded, sagely.

“I understand entirely,” he said. “However, I must point out that Rothana has some important additional information to present.”

He held out a credit chip, which Jerjerrod took and inspected.

“Owing to the XJ-15’s protracted development, we are willing to provide our test units at cost,” the representative went on. “That is in addition to having a higher production rate than our competitors and a less committed production output.”

Jerjerrod hesitated, then pocketed the credit chip.

“That all seems in order,” he said. “The XJ-15 it is.”

“Marvellous,” the representative declared.

Nine months previously...

“I’ve examined the records that exist from the first Death Star,” a senior technician said. “The amount of strain that was placed on the flash suppression systems was minimal to nonexistent. Even with the full firing that destroyed Alderaan, surviving records indicate that the flash suppressors had no more than a five percent load placed on them – an amount that can be handled by untreated durasteel.”

The other men and women in the meeting looked at the data on the screen behind their colleague.

“You’re suggesting we forego the duratemp treatment on the flash protection systems?” one of the women asked, cautiously. “I can see the advantages, but the downsides seem significant. I’d even say potentially destructive.”

“It is my position that the cost of including the duratemp treatment is unacceptable,” the tech replied. “It takes time and effort, including supervisory attention which cuts into the available man-hours on the project. We only have so much experienced manpower.”

That drew winces, though none of the humans in the room drew attention to the fact that they were spending a lot of that time in interminable meetings.

“In the following presentation, I’ll discuss my proposal and how it could shave as much as one week off the final completion timetable,” the senior tech continued, flicking to the next screen of his presentation. “This model shows how the flash suppression systems are built around the main weapon…”

Six months previously…

“There simply isn’t an option,” the head of personnel replied. “Our existing system is not providing enough technicians and operators.”

“This was quite sufficient for the first Death Star,” Jerjerrod protested.

“The first Death Star was a project that took decades,” the manager replied, shrugging. “It didn’t come up at first, sir – for that I apologize – but if we are going to redress the problem, we need to act now. There is no alternative.”

Jerjerrod rubbed his temples, thinking about the problem.

The fully functional Death Star was going to need hundreds of thousands of qualified technicians and operators, familiar with the systems of the vast battle station, and so many of the men who knew much about the Death Star at the moment were busy building it.

There hadn’t been many left after the destruction of the first battle station, because most of them had been working on it at the time.

“All right,” he said. “So your proposal is…?”

“We keep the same number of trainers for now, but abbreviate the course,” the manager answered. “Two months – at most. Then we have the new graduates train the next batch for two months, and so on. Exponential growth. At twenty students per instructor and a hundred instructors to start with, we’ll end up with eight hundred thousand in six months.”

That was extremely tempting… they wouldn’t be anything like the equal of what they should be, but they could learn on the job.

“All right,” Jerjerrod said. “Approved – see to it.”

One month previously…

“Next item on the checklist?” Commander Jaskier asked.

“Step one hundred and seven,” Technician Mils replied. “Self test.”

She pressed the self-test button, and the computer system clicked and flickered as it ran through the diagnostics.

Data results and readouts went up on the screen, and Jaskier and all the others in the control station watched the results.

None of them had any comment to make about the numbers. The checklist said to run the self test, so that was what they were doing.

“Step one hundred and eight,” Mils went on. “Sign off on results.”

She did that, as well, and Jaskier nodded.

“Good,” he said. “And I believe we’ve finished that half an hour ahead of schedule! Good work, everyone.”

Now.

The firing commands flashed out through the Death Star’s systems, triggering a cascade of further commands, and the whole massive battle station’s main superlaser woke for the first time.

Fifty XJ-15 hypermatter flow regulators controlled the flow of energy from the power core into the power collectors, and the energy being channelled into the system surged rapidly – rising to one hundred and eighteen percent of nominal, above what would have been anticipated, and greater than the one hundred and two percent that the older, more proven Sienar systems would have generated.

Thousands of high powered beams were generated, controlled and focused through an enormous array of Khyber crystals… a small but measurable fraction of which were cheap industrially grown diamonds instead, added to the shipments by subcontractors eager to stretch out their production from the strip-mined planet of Ilum without running so late on their deliveries that financial penalties were imposed.

None of the technicians who were in a position to spot the problem at this stage were actually capable of doing so. Their necessarily abbreviated training had mostly been on what buttons to push, and nobody had the deeper knowledge of the systems to recognize that the system was in an anomalous state.

Then some of the diamonds shattered under the load, allowing the beams free to damage adjacent systems, and in moments the whole of the energy drawn from the hypermatter core was unleashed.

The flash suppression systems were wholly, and fatally, inadequate.

“Watch yourself, Wedge!” Lando called, his head on a swivel, and banked the Falcon around so his ventral turret gunner could clear off one of the TIEs attacking Red Leader. “We’ve got to-”

Then there was a sudden blinding flash, and Lando did a double-take.

The Death Star’s protective shield was instantly, and dramatically, visible – because the entire inside of it was full of plasma and flame, lighting it up as clearly as Ackbar’s briefing had done back before the operation was launched in the first place. Then something blew up on the surface of the forest moon as the plasma followed the funnel of the shield, and the explosive force was no longer contained but began to drift out into space.

“...the kriff?” Lando asked, eventually. “What just happened?”

“Ow,” Darth Vader said, indistinctly, reaching up to feel his helmet, which had been crushed in by an impact with the ceiling.

The Emperor’s throne room seemed to mostly be intact, though there was an Emperor-shaped hole in the window nearest his throne, and Luke had his hands out to either side as he stood on the wall.

“Father, are you all right?” the younger Skywalker asked.

“What happened?” Vader replied. “I remember the Emperor ordering that the Death Star should fire…”

“I don’t know, it exploded just after he said that,” Luke answered. “It turns out that overconfidence was his weakness… do you have any idea where the nearest spaceship is? Keeping the atmosphere in is tiring me out a bit.”

[hazashiovo]

Helloooo!! Can I request mako and bolín (seperate) being protective of their (s/o), thank you a lot<33

Ofc u can!

A/n: mako and Bolin have the most requests so far,I'm really glad tbh that people are submitting requests,keep em coming.i also added in Korra and Kuvira ,since this seems like a perfect imagine for them.

Genre: Fluff

Mako x reader, Bolin x reader, Kuvira x reader,Korra x reader (all separate)

Overprotective Lovers

Warnings: none.

Starting off with Mako,he's the kind of guy that doesn't take well to someone talking to you in some kind of mean way in front of him, especially if you're more a more naive person.

Even if you take care of yourself, he's still there making sure you're away from harms way.

If you ever get hurt or kidnapped,it's over for whoever did it, it's not like he's usually a calm person,but take away his favorite person and you got yourself a big problem to deal with.

Even when you're not exactly in danger, he's there. It's sweet really,but it can also be annoying when overdone.

You like being protected by him,but not all the time, he didn't like it when you talked to Korra, claiming since she's the avatar she would draw unnecessary attention over you and put you in complicated situations.

Of course you explain to him that you're a big girl and that you can watch over yourself,but he just can't understand it. {Sigh}.

Korra? Well she had her ups and downs. But she learned ,ok? Once you two got together ,this feeling that's she allways had grew stronger,her urge to protect you.

Of course she would blame it on the fact that she's the avatar,but really it was her being protective of you.

Even before dating her ,you knew this would draw a lot of attention to yourself, and potential enemies of the avatar would want to harm you. But that didn't stop you,after all you're free to love whoever you want even if it endangers you.

When Korra faced Amon she used to be Terrified something bad would happen to you, even her dreams would be hunted by dark images. She would see Amon preparing to take away your bending,but each time she would wake up before anything happened,in cold sweat,with you by her side.

If you're a light sleeper,you would assure her nothing happened to you,and that you're okay.

Even after she defeated Amon, more villains appeared,making Korra constantly worry about you. But one thing is sure, that she would always be there to protect you,and in case anything happens,to save you.

This boy is the most carefree of them all. He doesn't really have to worry that you would be kidnapped or hurt most of the time,but if it ever happens, either someone hurt you or something went wrong in the mission?

He's full boyfriend mode on. He wouldn't be like Korra or Mako, first thing he would do is bring you to safety, revenge not being his thing.

If you're okay ,that's what matters to him. But now if you're especially targeted by someone? He's not as chill as before. Especially since he recently learned how to lava bend, which makes him a pretty strong bender, definitely not the kind you would want to piss off by chasing around his girlfriend,nu uh.

Bolin knew it was a mistake to introduce you to his boss, Varrick.

That man would make flirty jokes with you,which always made Bolin roll his eyes and mock him quietly.

So what if he's smart and rich? You wouldn't like a prick like him.

Whenever Varrick got too close, your boy would be there to put distance between the two of you. It's not that he's jealous,but he knows how his boss is.

Yeah no. I doubt anyone would even try to threaten you while she's around.

After all the power and respect she gained, expect people to fear you just because you're with her. So mostly Kuvira doesn't have to worry that anyone is gonna try anything.

After all she made quite a name for herself.

Even so, being The Great Uniter's s/o came with it's disadvantages.

For example,if someone really wanted to hurt her,they would target you. You're her soft spot,and she knows it.

Yes,you have your personal guards picked by Kuvira herself. Just because she doesn't expect you to be attacked it doesn't mean she won't be prepared for it.

You're hers,and the world knows it.

.

.

A/n : I really enjoyed writing this,I might make another part with different characters :)

[ssahotchnerr]

What if a drabble about this https://twitter.com/bxnksi_/status/1754954693329998141?t=QfzPSplktYI04Owlt-gzSg&s=19 I just know hotch's gonna be taking that kiss IMMEDIATELY like no thoughts. He'll be like, "screw my point and kiss me".

priorities

this cw; bau!reader, established relationship, kissing, light suggestion, brief arguing into fluff, 6x22 references - this relates to aaron coaching jack's soccer team <3

the team's prying eyes couldn't help but be directed upwards as they attempted to work, due to the visual of you and aaron going at it through his office window. your hurried and raising voice also drifted out his slightly ajar door from time to time.

"it's not fair to you aaron." you insisted, mentally urging him to stop being so stubborn and understand your point. "i get that they need a coach, and it's wonderful they thought of you, but you're too preoccupied."

aaron scoffed lightly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his desk, "preoccupied?"

you gave him a look - c'mon. it was a rather accusatory word, you'd admit it, but he knew what you meant. "the league should be resolving their own problems."

"isn't them asking an attempt to do so?"

"but it's not your problem, or is it your responsibility to accept. i know you feel obligated to and," you reached out to touch his arm affectionately, reminding him you were on his side. "it's so sweet of you to jump at it. but please think about it realistically."

aaron exhaled a breath of his own, turning his eyes away from yours in a subtle eye roll.

"aaron," you gaped at him, your frustration quickly turning into annoyance. "you're in the fbi. you're a unit chief, for god's sake. don't you think they should ask someone who's not on such a strict, unpredictable schedule? what happens when you can't make it to a practice? to a game?"

as you fired off all the reasonings, even throwing in the example that jessica did swing by once to pick up jack upon getting a call for a case - aaron fell quiet, knowing you were right.

he felt obligated; being unreservedly himself, he wanted to be the one to step up and take the initiative. jack's soccer team deserved someone willing and wanting to provide their undivided attention as coach, given majority of the parents were more preoccupied by their phones than watching their own kid. focus - he could provide such.

another convincing factor, being coach would provide him more time with jack. these days, the fact jack was growing up, rapidly, was slowly sinking in. before he knew it, aaron would blink and jack would prefer to do anything else than to hang around his father.

but again, from a realistic standpoint, you were right. trying to navigate a soccer team with his crazy schedule would be extremely difficult; the potential aspect of not being around, and then potentially not being able to find reliable cover - an inevitable, ongoing complication, despite how badly he wished he could manage it.

aaron hadn't meant for this to turn into a disagreement either. to be fair, he had just returned from a meeting with strauss, which always amp'ed up his disposition in one way or another.

but now you were getting heated, and as you thoroughly stated your case, aaron's eyes involuntarily kept flicking down to your lips. the more he attempted to avert his eyes away, they only lingered more.

and not wanting to argue further, he quickly surrendered to his own argument, the only thought beginning to maintain importance was how badly he wanted - no, needed - to kiss you.

"go ahead, say it."

your remark regained his attention, "say what?"

"i know that look, so go ahead." you crossed your arms, huffing a frustrated breath of air out of your nose. you had mistaken his lack of focus for another impending, contrasting detail of his, "say it."

"kiss me."

your expression changed at once; irritation shifting to a softened confusion. "what?"

"what? do you want me to beg?" aaron tossed out, a glint surfacing in his eyes and warming you from the middle out, "fine, you're right, forget about it. now kiss me."

you opened your mouth to respond, but aaron took that as an opportunity to weave his fingers through the belt loops of your pants, pulling you strictly against him and pressing his lips to yours.

once your initial surprise wore off, and focusing on how soft aaron's lips felt on yours, you kissed him in return with just an equal amount of gentle vigor.

you pulled away, your mind attempting to resist his everlasting temptation, bringing your index finger to his chest. "this isn't resolvin-"

but aaron chased your lips, immediately pressing his back to yours and stopping you mid-sentence. you reciprocated eagerly, sighing softly against his lips in content as your fingers found hold on the sides of his suit jacket.

"you're absolutely ridiculous." you laughed against his lips, providing one more chaste kiss before successfully pulling away, your cheeks flushed.

"am i?" he quipped back, rather playfully as his eyebrows rose, a cheeky expression plastered on his face - one of which only made you want to kiss him wildly.

"yeah, you are." you bantered back, exhaling to ease yourself back to the real world, which aaron also assisted in with his next statement, dropping the matter yet again.

"i'm still expecting your supplementary report on the houston case by the end of the day." he said, his hand sliding down your back and patting your ass, playfully urging you to get a move on. "get back to work."

you nearly released an audible groan but instead rolled your eyes, bringing yourself to peck aaron's lips once more. on your way out, you tossed over your shoulder. "this discussion isn't over, you know."

due to your restrained line of vision, you missed the small smirk of his lips. "and if it ends similarly, i'll be looking forward to it."

[thewertsearch]

ARADIA: karkat i dont know if anyone cares about formal ranks like that anymore ARADIA: or if anyone ever did! ARADIA: but for what its worth i suggest that from now on you all listen closely to the advice of our human guests

Rose I completely agree with - but Dave? I don't know if he's really the leader type.

I guess he does share a Class with Karkat, who was fairly effective as a leader, albeit a little unorthodox. Perhaps Dave has the same potential, and we just haven't seen it yet.

ARADIA: tactically speaking a knight of time and a seer of light is a nearly unbeatable combination

Well, if this isn't a fucking rabbit hole of a line. As always, new Title exposition is delivered in the most cryptic manner imaginable - but it still might be possible to glean some new insight from this information.

We know that Rose is some sort of clairvoyant. We've never been told anything about what Knights do, but we have just learned that Dave's powers work extremely well in combination with Rose's. What sort of role would synergize this well with a Seer of Light?

Well, since Rose provides information, then maybe Dave's role is to turn that information into a plan of action, converting raw data into something that's tactically useful. Such an interpretation certainly fits Karkat, a fellow Knight - but I don't know if it fits Dave.

ARADIA: the knight of time is not necessarily the tactician

Oh.

Never mind, then.

ARADIA: he is a powerful warrior class which exploits the flow of time as a weapon

...do mine eyes deceive me? Is a Homestuck character just straight-up explaining a Class to us, with zero ambiguity?

I never thought I'd see the day - but neither will I be looking a gift horse in the mouth. Let's analyze.

Knights weaponize their Aspect.

Dave, the Knight of Time, fights with a time-shifting sword, exploiting his own temporal duplicates to overwhelm and outnumber his opponents. He is, in fact, the only member of his team to wield his Aspect in a fight - at least, prior to John's ascension - and now we know why. In the hands of a Knight, an Aspect is a sword.

Weaponizing time doesn't have to mean 'using it in combat', either. When Terezi attacked the kids' timeline, Dave 'fought back' with his time machines, sending himself into the past to undo the damage she'd done. He's actively adversarial towards Terezi while doing this; it really does feel like he's fighting her, rather than merely resolving a problem she's caused.

Karkat, then, weaponizes Blood - and I think I'm beginning to understand what that means.

I initially pegged Blood as the aspect of genetics, since Karkat's a geneticist, and people who share DNA are said to be 'blood relatives'. Karkat doesn't really 'weaponize' genetics, but there is a concept he's closely tied to - one that I do think he's been wielding like a sword.

Leadership.

Through sheer force of belligerence, Karkat assembled twelve highly dangerous teenagers into a single, relatively cohesive unit. Vriska was pretty sure that without their glorious leader, the trolls would have devolved into infighting - which she, being Vriska, viewed as a good outcome. Classic.

Karkat saved these trolls - and he did it by turning them into a ruthless force of destruction, with him at the helm. This is the essence of Blood - its meaning is in the general area of leadership, teamwork, and people skills.

After all, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

ARADIA: the seer class knows her aspect comprehensively ARADIA: as a knower of all fortune she can see the circuitous path that will lead to the most favorable outcome for everyone

She can? Jesus, that sounds much, much more powerful than my own interpretation of her powers. It almost sounds like...

TEREZI: TH4T SOUNDS 4 LOT MOR3 US3FUL TH4N MY S33R POW3RS >:[ ROSE: Illumination of the road to victory for all is an asset considerably different from command over the outcomes of decisions made by individuals.

THE ROAD TO WHAT?

[captain-huggy-bear]

comforting Quinn after one the awful games the canucks have had as of late

Oh he's had a rough time of it lately our Captain but I do feel like we're on the way up! Winning streak here we come! Fingers crossed, anyway!

The way Quinn storms into the apartment is the first sign that he's taking this run of bad luck hard, that this most recent loss has finally caused him to snap. The door is slammed open, slammed shut, his shoes are practically thrown off, he's stomping around like the entire world is against him. The way he pulls open the fridge is so harsh the door creaks.

All it takes is one little thing, the way a red pepper falls out of the fridge and rolls across the floor when Quinn's going to get something for dinner, for him to lose it a little.

"It's fucking bullshit!" You're watching silently from the couch, the way his shoulders heave, tense, so tense all the muscles in his back are pulled taunt, the way his head falls onto the fridge door, how his hands clench into fists, unclench, and clench again.

Quinn's not an angry person, he's not a yeller or a fighter. He's calm, collected, but sometimes it's all too much. You know he's not yelling about the pepper. He's yelling because this recent loss in a string of losses is the last straw, because he's fed up of carrying his team, because he's fed up of the disappointed fans, the stress of potential trades, all the bullshit and drama when he just wants to play good hockey.

There's not really any words that can help, you know that, so you don't say anything. You just pad across from the living area into the kitchen on quiet feet and slide your arms around his waist from behind. Your cheek presses into the middle of his back while you press as close to him as possible.

At first he seems to tense more and you consider pulling back, maybe this isn't what he needs right now and that's okay. But, when you start to loosen your grip Quinn's shoulders slump, tension leaving even as he grips your arms around his waist and pulls you back tight against him, like the thought of you walking away is too much.

"I love you, y'know? Even if things aren't going well, that's not going to change..." It's the only thing you can think to say as Quinn's forehead rests against the close fridge door, as you mould yourself to his back in an effort to provide some sense of support, some sense of belonging.

You've never seen Quinn cry, but this changes it all. Maybe it's the reassurance, maybe the love in your voice or just the fact that he feels like a failure of a captain, like he can't bring his own team together into a cohesive unit. Whatever it is, he cries in front of you for the first time, shoulders shaking silently as he sniffles and tries to wipe the tears away frantically before you can see them.

"This is so fucking stupid," You know he's talking about crying over the losses and you hate that he thinks it's stupid because it's not. His words are what have you turning him around so that you can see his face, the way his green eyes are red rimmed and water, the wet tracks that run over his cheeks.

"Quinn...it's not stupid. You're allowed to be upset. To be angry. You work so hard for this team...I get it, it feels like it's not paying off...not going your way..." You cup his face in your hands, his short beard scratching your palms as your fingers brush away some of the wetness on his cheeks, brushing away at each new tear that trickles out against his wishes, wetting his long lashes. "I don't know when it'll get better, when the wins will come in, but they will. You work so hard, it'll happen...you just gotta keep holding on a little longer,"

"Fuck..." His forehead falls against yours, leaning down as he moves into you, it's like he's trying to take some of your strength and you wish you could give him it all. Wish you could take every ounce of frustration, anger and sadness he was feeling and weather the storm for him.

His braced hand comes to your waist and you're careful when you put your hand over top of it, but it's intentional as you start the conversation you've been avoiding for weeks.

"You need to start looking after yourself more first. Starting with not playing with this hand until it's better." The way he looks down at you says it all, that he hates the idea, but you know better. Each day his hand isn't getting better, each game he's more worn down. He's going to break himself in two, he's going to cause permanent damage if he's not careful.

"But..."

"But?"

"We'll lose if I don't play...or lose worse anyway," the last bit muttered under his breath with derision, at the fact that even when he's on the ice the wins aren't coming...and when he's not? Oh, it's a whole lot worse.

"Maybe you need to have more faith in them, the guys are good...yeah, you're amazing, you're the best player on that team, but maybe you need to trust that they'll pull through for you? Maybe they need to feel like you can rely on them." Your hands slip from his cheeks, arms sliding to wrap around his neck gently, chest to chest, feet bumping against each other as you sway in the kitchen.

"I just...I don't want to sit out." You know Quinn doesn't. The idea of not playing hockey is like a nightmare to him, but you also know that makes him a bad judge of his own health, his own tolerance, when to quit. Sometimes he needs a reminder.

"I know you don't, baby...you live and breathe hockey...but I'm scared," The look he gives you is startled, like Quinn couldn't comprehend that his behaviour had any impact on you, his arms tightening around your waist as if that might protect you from your own feelings, "I'm scared you're going to permanently hurt yourself, Quinn...please, just...take some time off games."

There's a long pause where Quinn watches you, as if he's trying to figure out if you're truly scared for his wellbeing. Whatever he must see must confirm it for him, that you're worried about him, because as he slides his hands up your spine in a gentle, soothing caress, he agrees.

"Okay."

"Thank you..." You really do mean it. You're worried about him, day and night, but especially whenever he picks up a stick at the moment. Always waiting for the call that tells you he's done something permanent, hurt something beyond repair.

"I love hockey...but I love you more, baby." He hates the idea of sitting out on games, but he hates the idea of you worrying more, of the fear in your eyes at the prospect he's not resting properly, hurting himself more. If taking a few games off will make you feel better? He can do it...the team can't get much worse at the moment anyway.

[mikeymagee]

Sam Wilson: Double Consciousness

One thing I love about Black superheroes is that they all (in their own ways) celebrate different aspects of the Black experience.

T'challa, in the first Black Panther film represented Afro-futurism and Pan-Africanism.

Shuri, in Wakanda Forever, represented Black grief and the pain of loss.

Luke Cage represented African American pride and resilience

Tyrone from Cloak and Dagger represented the fear of living as a Black person in a white dominated space.

Miles Morales in Into the Spider-Verse, represented the creation of an individual identity (he even uses his graffiti skills to paint his own Spiderman suit). Each hero represented a specific aspect of the Black experience.

But Sam Wilson has always occupied a specific space that (until this moment) had yet to be filled. Sam Wilson, as an African American man, and as an African American Captain America, represents double consciousness.

(Potential Spoilers after the cut)

Double Consciousness, in this context, is a term that was coined by WEB Du Bois in his book The Souls of Black Folk in which he states that:

"It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his two-ness,—an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder. The history of the American Negro is the history of this strife – this longing to attain self-conscious manhood, to merge his double self into a better and truer self. In this merging he wishes neither of the older selves to be lost. He does not wish to Africanize America, for America has too much to teach the world and Africa. He wouldn't bleach his Negro blood in a flood of white Americanism, for he knows that Negro blood has a message for the world. He simply wishes to make it possible for a man to be both a Negro and an American without being cursed and spit upon by his fellows, without having the doors of opportunity closed roughly in his face"

In essence, to be a Black American is to be a creature of two warring worlds, and it also means that the Black American must be ever aware at the fact that every move we make is not only going to be used to judge our character, but also the character of every other Black American. And Sam Wilson is aware of that fact.

In both The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam brings up the fact that he knows the world is watching him and hating him simply for being a Black man who represents the United States. When Sam is juxtaposed against Isaiah Bradley, another Black Captain America who the country abandoned, Sam is reminded of how this country has always treated Black men and women.

And, sadly enough, Sam could also be looking at his own future. During Brave New World, Sam is ever honorable, ever compassionate and ever empathetic to everyone around him (even when their actions do not warrant Sam's kindness). Because, once again, Sam is aware that his actions (whether negative or positive) will have a greater impact on more than just himself. And that kind of pressure can lead to bitterness. It can wear a body down.

Sam states:

"Because if I’m not on point, I feel like I’ve let down everyone who is fighting for a seat at that table.”

Isaiah Bradley has always had a rocky relationship with the US, just like all African Americans have, So it makes sense to me that Sam Wilson may also be thinking about Isaiah each time he picks up the shield. When African Americans create something (be it a movie, or a tv show, or a play) that centers on the Black experience, there is an added pressure to overperform to prove the validity of the project and the validity of Black narratives. When The Wiz, a film that was originally going to be seen as "The First Black Classic" bombed in 1978, many Hollywood producers and film historians credited that film's failure as the reason why Black-led franchises are/were seen as box office poison for so long. Even with the success of 2018's Black Panther film, there are still people who're gun shy about centering Black narratives in the mainstream. So, if Sam Wilson were to fail as being Captain America, or if Sam Wilson were to represent himself in a way that is less admirable, it would have an effect on Isaiah's legacy, it would have an effect on Joaquin, it would have an effect on (potentially) Isaiah's grandson.

And even still, during the prison scenes in BNW, when Isaiah is locked away and Sam comes to visit him, Isaiah states:

"The last thing I want is for any of this ugliness to touch you."

Within the MCU Isaiah and Sam's stories are linked. Not just through the fact that Sam brought Isaiah's story out into the light, but also because they are both Black men who have held the mantel of Captain America, and whether they like it or not, their destinies with that legacy are intertwined. One will affect the other. They are each other's keeper.

Sam Wilson, rather through happenstance or fate, is the embodiment of Double Consciousness. Luke Cage, in both his comic book series and his Netflix show, was free to exist as a person outside of the white gaze. He could be angry, sad, fearful, etc, and not have to worry about how his actions would affect the larger community outside of Harlem. Sam Wilson does not have the luxury. So, when Sam is faced with a microaggression (such as being called "Son" by Ross), he is forced to hold his tongue. Sam Wilson is expected to react with kindness and decorum in the midst danger or disrespect, not because he can't fight back, but because he knows how the weight of his actions will affect those who look like him.

And Sam Wilson, a Black man without the soldier serum, is still expected to do everything that Steve Rogers (and to a lesser extent John Walker) do. Sam Wilson must do twice as much work with half as many resources. And if that's not the embodiment of the African American experience, I'm not sure what is. Many African American genres of music were created out of necessity and transferring what knowledge we could salvage onto new instruments. In short, African Americans had to improvise with the tools they were already given and create something new. Jazz and Blues was created because Black slaves were not allowed to use drums, so those rhythmic patterns were transposed onto guitars and horns.

Sam is expected to carry a large amount of physical labor (simply fighting as a human being without the serum clearly takes a toll). But he's also expected to do a lot of emotional labor as well. Through BNW Sam acts more as an ambassador for the US than a soldier. It is canon that in the MCU Sam speaks English, Spanish, Arabic and Japanese and he uses those skills to extend diplomacy to other nations and other people. In BNW, it was Sam who was responsible for deescalating international tensions with Japan, and it was Sam who managed to avoid a war through peaceful negotiation rather than war mongering (as Ross wanted to do). Even during the fight with Red Hulk, Sam had to resort to other means to achieve results (something that Steve or John Walker would've just brute forced their way through). Even while Sam was being shot at in the air, he never lost his cool because (like many African Americans) he is not afforded that privilege. John Walker, in TFATWS is allowed to murder and stain the shield with blood, but no one would ever say that white men like Walker are the problem with America. Yet Sam (and Isaiah) are far too familiar with the fact that a Black man screwing up will result in the judgement of everything that is associated with Blackness and Black people. So, they must find solutions without the use of violence. Sam must be diplomatic when the easier solution would be violence. Sam must be able to communicate with others on their own turf or in their own language during tense situations (like when he spoke Japanese to the fighter pilots).

Sam Wilson does not have the serum, but he does have wings. So, he adapted. Sam Wilson does not have the super strength needed to work the shield the same way Steve does, so Sam adapted and improvised. Just like Jazz music, Sam Wilson turned a perceived fault into a creative strength. He had to use his linguistic skills, his counseling skills, his flight capabilities, psychology and his boundless optimism to do the impossible.

A very hurting thing for Black Americans - to feel that we can't love our enemies. People forget what a great tradition we have as African-Americans in the practice of forgiveness and compassion. And if we neglect that tradition, we suffer.

-Bell Hooks

The fact of the matter remains, Sam Wilson embodies so many aspects of the African American experience, even when he doesn't mean to. Compassion. Improvisation. And the constant idea that this country can choose its better angels. In a way, Sam Wilson occupies a space that Luke Cage, T'challa, Shuri, and even Erik Killmonger cannot. It is a piece of the African American experience that takes a slug in the face and still gets right back up. The Black American tradition of making the impossible a reality through nothing but sheer force of will. Steve Rogers might have been the one to say the words "I can do this all day," but Sam Wilson lives them.

And he comes from a centuries old tradition of people who have been living them.

[webtomo]

While I am optimistic about Tomodachi Life: Living The Dream and will probably be buying it and playing it regardless of anything, there are a few things that kinda potentially concern me about the game. I assume most of these will be addressed at some point in the future, but I want to run through them real quick.

1 - The "New Horizons" problem.

Though I did play a lot of New Horizons when it came out and did thoroughly enjoy it, it is undeniable that the game is held back by a number of flaws. Most notably, the fact that they significantly stripped back a number of features (especially near the time of release) as well as the general "softening" of the game. Now, don't get me wrong, New Horizons is far from a bad game. But many things sort of hold me back from considering it the definitive Animal Crossing experience, especially after coming off of New Leaf/Welcome Amiibo. I do really enjoy the customization of the game, but in many ways it almost feels like they had forgone things like villagers personalities and their autonomy in order to make that happen. Not to mention the fact that many key elements of the series were not in the game at all at launch, and were instead added in later updates. I am hoping that at the very least, the team behind Living The Dream will be able to learn from the negative aspects of New Horizons. Tomodachi Life is a series that, in part, is made by the randomness of every social interaction and is way more heavily focused on social interaction than Animal Crossing as a whole is. So with that in mind, I do hope that they don't entirely drop the ball in that regard and can present us with something interesting. Another big aspect of Tomodachi Life is relationships and the drama that the islanders get themselves into, so I hope that they allow for those things to continue to be relevant in this entry without dampening the personalities of the islanders.

2 - Gay Marriage.

I think most people know about this by now, but back when Tomodachi Life originally came out a controversy sprung about, named the Miiquality movement. This movement was centered around making Nintendo acknowledge and allow gay couples to exist in Tomodachi Life, since it was one of the only games in the life simulation genre to not allow it. Nintendo responded by claiming that they would promise to include it in a potential sequel, since it was too late for them to change anything in the original Tomodachi Life for 3DS. Now, this is a net good thing, and I and many other have been asking for this for a long time. However, I am somewhat worried that for whatever reason, they do something to work around the gay marriage thing. It honestly would probably be kind of stupid for them to do this, but I can very easily picture a reality where they forgo the entire existing relationship system and replace it with something else, maybe something like the Miitopia system or something. But honestly, at that point, it would just be easier to allow gay marriage outright since the Miitopia relationship system was the reason that game was marked as an 18+ title in Russia and Nintendo seemingly had no issues with releasing the game there despite it. Nowadays, we live in 2025. There is no reason for them to not include it at this point. Tomodachi Life for 3DS released in 2013 in Japan and 2014 everywhere else, which predated the legalization of gay marriage in the United States and a number of other places in which the game released, and is still not fully legal to this day in Japan (but is pretty close to potential legalization at the time of writing). Nowadays, Nintendo seems more open to the idea of having visibly queer characters in their games, for instance the Fire Emblem series allows you to be gay in most of their modern releases. Just last year, the Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door remake officially canonized trans Vivian, so I do think the option is still on the table.

3 - Scale and design.

The trailer we have seen shows some already significant design changes in this game compared to the previous two, which honestly I do think looks decent and I have positive thoughts on the art direction as a whole. However with any big new changes, there are bound to be some rough points. The flatness of the island we have seen is a little weird, which I assume may be related to a potential building feature, in which case is fine, but in many ways honestly feels like a visual downgrade from the 3DS version. Albeit we have not seen too much so far regarding the appearance of the island, and if island customization is a thing then that could potentially negate that issue entirely. However, a bigger concern of mine is the scale of the island itself. I am somewhat worried now that since each islander is living in a little cabin instead of an apartment, that the amount of Miis you are able to add will be limited. This isn't entirely a deal breaker necessarily, however I think most people would agree that it would be extremely disappointing if the game forces you to limit the amount of people on your island arbitrarily. I think if they were to cut down the amount of Miis per island, a reasonable minimum should be at least 50. Ideally I would prefer if the cap of 100 Miis was still a thing, since its a pretty reasonable number and I would be happy if they even allowed for more than that. Though if they do decide to limit the islanders to a smaller number, then I think it would honestly kill a lot of the hype for this game, since a big aspect of Tomodachi Life is the broadness of interactions possible between many islanders at a time. The Switch is more powerful than the 3DS so I am hoping they at least have some way around this issue, but the Switch isn't necessarily a powerhouse to begin with, so we will see how that pans out.

With all of that being said, I am still very excited for this game. I imagine future news will address some of these issues, but for now I guess we will just have to wait and see what happens. I will continue to post more about Living The Dream as more news presents itself.

[dont-lick-my-foot]

In light of all the general shittiness going on in the United States and the fact that Donald Trump allegedly told NBC News that he was "not joking" about potentially seeking a third term, I thought I'd take a moment to talk about protests and the 50501 movement.

50501 is a peaceful, progressive grassroots movement made up of independent volunteers who organize protests in all 50 states and Washington DC. On Saturday, April 5th, 50501 is partnering with the Women's March and Hands Off! for the "People's Veto Day" protest in DC at noon at the Washington Monument. Additionally, volunteers across the states are organizing protests on the same day (April 5th) for those who can’t make it to DC.

For example, in my state (Michigan), 50501 MI volunteers are organizing the "Reclaim, Remove, Reverse!" protest at the State Capitol Building in Lansing at noon. Other local protests can be found by clicking the "Find a Local Event" button here. I believe all times listed here and in the linked resources are in local time for wherever the event is being held (for example, the Michigan event would be at 12 pm EDT).

It's also more important than ever for everyone to know their rights when protesting, so I’ve linked the ACLU’s page on protesters’ rights below. Stay safe!

[purinfelix]

can we get more pilot!charles please 🥹🥹🥹

pilot! charles leclerc headcanons ˎˊ˗

a/n: ok consider this sort of a follow on from this piece bc i didn't feel like writing a whole new part, forgive me ....

✦ it's almost impressive how he manages to balance being so bashfully polite yet so cocky

✦ like, obviously, he's an amazing pilot and has every right to be a total dick about it but the minute he steps out of the cockpit, hair a little tousled and face a little flushed he's just ... nice? and congratulates you on being a great copilot?

✦ it irritates you a little because you can't really fault him for anything serious

✦ at least you get to tease him about absolutely sucking at pool, but the whole team joins in on that whenever you visit the bar

✦ El Predistinato used to be his old call sign but it became a bit of a mouthful and he got annoyed by everyone butchering it - and so that's how 'Prince' became his new one (that, and the fact that every higher-up is just enamoured with his charms)

✦speaking of call signs, for some reason, he insists on just using everyone's actual names (he says he finds it easier than the nicknames) which catches everyone completely off guard

✦ notoriously bad at replying to messages, to the point where you've had conversations about potentially removing him from the unit group chat ... in the group chat ... with him in it (and he still has no clue)

✦ pretty obvious that he so badly wants to be one of those pilots who is a little reckless (in charles' words ... do some "crazy shit") but he's just a goody two shoes and physically cannot bring himself to take any risks

✦ never takes any of the safety training seriously but is still able to do it completely flawlessly

✦ like he's goofing off during first aid training so a superior will pick on him to come and demonstrate on the doll and he manages to do the entire CPR procedure perfectly first try

✦ gets way too chatty during practice flights - like not even about relevant stuff

"Weather's looking good this morning," you hear him hum from behind you as you try your best to focus on the path in front of you. You only let out a soft grunt to let him know you've heard him. "I wonder if it'll stay sunny for long, I mean we are going into summer but who knows it might get a bit rainy." You're silent, trying just to block him out and focus. "You ever wonder what bad weather must be like for animals? Like if I were a bird maybe I wouldn't mind the rain because I could just fly wherever I want-" "Charles shut up." "Got it."

taglist: @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[ecoterrorist-katara]

What do you think about the fact that Sokka became chief of the SWT in canon? Did Katara want the position? If she did, what did she think about Sokka getting it instead of her? And if she didn’t want the position, why?

hello!!! Great question. Oh man I am Not happy about Sokka becoming chief of the SWT…I think he should’ve gone to Ba Sing Se University and gotten an engineering degree and spent his life making cool inventions…

I do think Sokka is a leader, but there are many flavours of leadership and he strikes me more as a very competent bureaucrat more than somebody who makes decisions on the world stage. I think he actually could’ve made a terrific technocratic advisor to someone like Katara, who is not quite as detail-oriented when it comes to solving problems. Like if the Water Tribes ever had, idk, a supply chain or procurement problem, Sokka would be all over that. If we’re talking about who displays more traditional qualities of leadership (willingness to take initiative, comfort with public speaking, tact and diplomacy, willingness to hear out different perspectives, ability to inspire others), Katara has a natural inclination. They could’ve been cool co-rulers too, actually.

As for whether Katara wanted to be Chief: so! Great question! I think if anyone had ever asked Katara “hey do you want to be the Chief of the Southern Water Tribes,” she would’ve been shocked, then said YES. Unequivocally.

But: we don’t see adult women in any positions of power in ATLA, and I think that’s something that Katara subconsciously internalized. As much as she’s a feminist icon who’d fight Pakku, I’m not sure she ever thought about women in positions of political power. Remember that the reason Katara was so set on learning combat waterbending was because the South did have female waterbending fighters, so she knew it was a possibility, but she’s never heard even a hint of the idea that a woman could be a ruler. Even Kiyoshi Island, the girlboss utopia, is run by a man. The only time we see a woman potentially becoming a ruler of anything is when Azula was briefly made Fire Lord, and even then it was pretty clear that she was supposed to be a puppet. In the North, Yue was never going to be Chief and everyone seemed to have accepted that, and Katara doesn’t find it unfair. This sounds so stupid, but I think this is why it’s important to have role models, you know? Katara would 1000% want to be Chief if anyone ever told her that it was an option.

What I do find super weird is how Katara also never seemed interested in a seat on the United Republic Council, even though working with people and pursuing justice and peace is very much Katara’s thing, and we do know that the URC had at least one Councilwoman. I don’t have a Watsonian explanation for Katara’s comparative political irrelevance that isn’t extremely sad (i.e. she decided she’d rather spend energy on restoring Air Temple Island and raising her children instead of pursuing a career in politics even though Toph also did a whole Thing while being a single mom).

I think if the writers of the comics and TLOK had gotten their heads out of the “girl power = girls fight good” mentality, they would have realized that Katara would be an amazing world leader. But they didn’t (and to be fair they seemed to have also forgotten that Katara fights at all), and we must live with the dumpster fire that is Katara’s canon arc.

[nicolekart]

Jentry Chau vs the Underworld – Kit theory 

Okay, so I recently finished watching “Jentry Chau vs the Underworld” and got a little hyperfixation about it, but I see that not many people are talking about this cartoon.

And since I don't have a chance to do any fan art for the time being, I'll at least do a little bit of writing.

A small disclaimer: This is not a super specific theory, but more of a loose thinking and musing about additional storylines, because I think these characters and the story had much more potential than was tapped, or they were given to tap. I know I'm probably reading too much into things, but let's just be delusional for 5 minutes. You know… for fun.

I guess I don't need to say there are spoilers?

So, what if the plan for Kit's character was a bit different beforehand, or if we have some hint of what will happen to him next?

It's just that, I admit, I feel that his plot could have been handled better, more deeply (like many things in general), and I can't shake the feeling that there is a certain inconsistency that scratches at the back of my head - which is the bird motif.

1. The theme of a bird with 1 wing from another post

Link to the post.

When I saw this post, some way into the early episodes, I began to pay more attention.

It is about a mythical Chinese creature in the form of a bird with one eye and one wing, which has to unite with another bird in order to fly. The author of the post draws attention to this sense of incompleteness, of lacking something, which Kit has in regard to the lack of a soul.

The creature's other name is Jian, and it is also described as a good omen, a symbol of protection, a messenger between the divine and mortal realms.

2. His design

Link to the post on IG

 One of the character designers shared concept art of Kit, in which he has a medallion signed as using this very creature's theme. In the end, Kit appears to have a plain pink necklace.

However, the wing motif remains on his shirt.

In the shirtless art, we see a scar (which didn't make it into the series either), but it's on the same side as the missing wing would have been. Also, the design on the shirt. 

Maybe the plan was to rewrite the Jian myth, where he didn't just have one wing, but lost it?

2 Kit's character in the intro

And while the design thing can be explained by the fact that it was an old concept that didn't make it into the final version, why were some of the wing motifs left, like his shirt (but about that in a moment).

The main question is, why was it left in the intro in such a literal way? Just for aesthetic reasons? Didn't they want to show what kind of demon he is right away? Why are his eyes purple when he has white ones in the show? On the other hand, Michael's eyes when he has visions are identical to those in the episodes?

In the post, the artist mentions that the theme of the one-winged bird is a tragic story, and yet Kit is a tragic character in a way, and that he looks so dramatic in the intro... But doesn't it seem a little off to you? I mean, as much as possible... it might have been the only reason to use such a motif, but all in all, why would one demon have the attributes of another demon/mythical creature?

4. The feather theme of the woman in the vision

 As I mentioned, there are still the feather/wing motifs.

In episode 6, in the visions that Cheng haunts Kit with, there is a woman who first turns into dark feathers, and then has a medallion that might resemble a stylized wing. 

They say everything in animation is intentional, so why?

5. Torn pages from the bestiary

This is probably the least solid guess, nevertheless....

It seems that most demons in the bestiary have 2 pages dedicated to them. (Even probably Ed considering that the one on the page next to him is his picture).

However, the Painted skin demon only has one page, and the next pages are torn out. I know that this could just be a hint as to the further plot of the episode, and the whole scene was just to show Jentry the missing pages. But if I remember correctly, they weren't addressed anymore in the plot (like a lot of things in general but well).

The point is that why would the pages torn out of BESTIARIUS contain anything about Jentry's powers if they originated from the Yellow Emperor and, as Gugu suggested, are worthy of a god. I would assume that the power that some mythical emperor might have possessed would rather have come from the Gods, which is why the demons fear it so much, or the Mogui who crave it so deeply, since such power is not available to Diju beings.

So what if these pages are a continuation of the Painted Skin Demon chapter. What if he wasn't always like this? Maybe there is a further (earlier) part of the legend? What if they combined two of the myths together? Like the Fallen Good Omen, for example, that's why he loves people so much and wants to be among them again.

Although in the scene at the end of the episode his chapter is already on another page, not next to the torn out pages....

6. Potential rebirth/return to the former form/getting his soul back from Diju

What if Jentry was right and the soul is not a uniquely human thing. I'm not saying that all demons have a typical soul, because they would probably have already figured it out. But maybe they can develop/ grow one? Or something similar to it. Gugu says they'll give them a funeral... all of them. That means Kit, as well. What if, thanks to this ritual, his soul could pass to the afterlife, or to Diju given that he did however kill some people and generally has things to repent for?

Maybe in a later storyline they could get his soul back, he could be reborn. Or, theorizing about bird motifs, he could return to favor as a good omen.

From other stories, like Journey to the West, we know how often Heaven liked to punish celestial beings (and that's how the one-winged bird is described – a celestial being, not a demon) by turning them into demons, or how often animal-like creatures escaped into the human world and took the forms of demons.

That's pretty much it. I just wanted to point out a few things that I found interesting.

What do you guys think? I haven't written anything like this for years and I feel a bit weird 😅

And please, if you haven't already, watch JCVTU. We need season 2. 💗

[bellawoso]

I Know Places

Ona Batlle x fem!reader

You and Ona had always been rivals, whether it was national rivals, or club rivals, you always seemed to end up on opposing sides in women’s rival teams.

England vs Spain. Barcelona vs Lyon. And now Manchester United vs Manchester City. With both you and the Spaniard playing for Manchester teams in the WSL, it allowed for you two to see more of each other and eventually extended your rival status to being friends ever since a bad tackle from the brunette, and a follow on instagram from her later that night.

After some casual chatting and the occasional comment on each other’s instagram posts, the defender soon asked you on a date, you were nervous to say the least, but the date went well and after a few more you were quick to start dating.

Being together for over a year now, and being able to live with each other, your relationship was going well. Escaping the prying eyes of fans and photographers was hard, but you and Ona managed. Together.

Until at the end of the season, over dinner Ona told you about Barcelona’s offer for her, it was no surprise the team wanted her back, Ona was well known for her amazing defending in the WSL, so obviously Barça had their eyes on her.

Although you were happy for her, it still hurt, knowing that there would be a sea keeping you two apart, but the both of you were sure that you could do it.

After she left for Spain, you watched every single one of her matches, and she did the same for you. Even after moving teams, she would still never say the dreaded words of ‘Manchester being blue’, which never failed to make you laugh.

Until a few months later, you recieved a call from your manager wanting to discuss potential transfers, you brushed him off quickly saying how you wanted to stay at Manchester City, until you received an email later that night, with a list of all club offers.

One caught your eye, the club offering you the most money was ironic. Real Madrid.

Barcelona’s biggest rival, Camp Nou selling out every time a Barcelona vs Real Madrid match was scheduled.

You immediately called your manager, telling him to accept Real Madrid’s offer, it was a great team, and you had met a few of their players before.

After speaking to your manager, you wondered how exactly you were going to tell Ona about your transfer in the January window, and settled on a simple phone call to break the news to her.

———

Ona was currently at a team bonding night, which were now currently just an excuse to crash at Alexia’s, watch movies and eat all night.

However, recently the brunette had been missing you more than usual, she longed to hold you tight again, and missed the privilege of living with you instead of in a different country.

So when her phone rang, she couldn’t resist waiting until getting home to answer it.

Unbeknown to you, the team already knew about your two’s relationship, after Patri catching Ona watching edits of you, but Ona cut of her teasing by saying ‘She has a right to’, which gave away the fact that you were dating.

“Hola amor” Ona greeted you.

“Hola baby, I have something I need to tell you” you said, your voice sounding serious made Ona sit up straight in her seat, catching the attention of her teammates, who mouthed ‘Que?’ (what?) at her in confusion.

“What’s wrong amor, is everything okay?” Ona asked, worried about your clear state of nervousness.

“No, no nothings wrong Oni, I just thought I would tell you that I’m moving clubs.”

“That’s great, where to amor?” Ona was excited now, the thought of you moving to Barcelona to be with her, like before except this time on the same side for once.

Her teammates had caught on now, excited at the prospect of you joining the team, you were a great central midfielder, Ona offer insisted on watching your games at movie nights if they were live, so many of her teammates were aware of how useful you would be on the team.

“Uh, that’s the thing, promise you wont be mad?”

“Why would I be mad amor? I would never mind wherever you go.” Ona and her teammates were confused now, and Ona was trying to think of the possible clubs you would go to that she would be mad at, however she didn’t realise she was kidding the most obvious one.

Lucy mouthed ‘Lyon’ at her from across the sofa, and most of the girls nodded in agreement.

“Real Madrid.”

“Que?! Real Madrid! Joder!” (What?! Real Madrid! Fuck!)

This caused an outburst amongst her teammates, who were also in just as much shock as Ona about your news.

You let out a laugh at your girlfriend’s antics “Guess we’re rivals again babe”

Your girlfriend only scoffed in response, and you could just imagine the pout on her face as her teammates chatted around her.

“Guess what?” You asked once again.

“Do I really want to know? Is it better news than what I’ve just heard cariño?”

“The first match I play is against you at Camp Nou!” You said excitedly.

Ona only groaned in response.

“I can’t wait to put a few goals past you as well” you said cheekily, as you heard Ona chuckle.

“You wish amor, at least being with me will soothe the sting of your loss against us”

“I’m sure being with you will just be a bonus when we win babe” you replied whilst yawning.

“Are you tired? Go to sleep amor.” Ona said.

“Mhm, I will speak to you in the morning?”

“Sí, buenes noches cariño.”

“Night Oni” you said before hanging up the call.

———

Your signing to Real Madrid was successful, although you were sad to leave your City teammates behind, you were looking forward to playing against your girlfriend again.

As much as your girlfriend hated any colour on you apart from red and blue, she had to admit that the white and gold looked good on you, Alexia had given her a firm warning to not let your relationship affect the game, but Ona didn’t need to hear it. There was no way she was letting you win.

———

The game was intense and Barcelona were already 2 goals up thanks to Aitana and Caro, you came on in the 60th minute, returning from a minor muscle injury, ready to make a difference.

The first goal for Real Madrid came from you after only a few minutes on the pitch. Barcelona’s defence were playing high, leaving you able to get past Ona and Ingrid, and then shoot from just outside the box into the top left corner of the net.

Whilst celebrating with your teammates, you caught eyes of your girlfriend, sending her a subtle wink and a smirk, and she returned with a scoff and a shake of her head.

She could not let you past her again.

In the 80th minute, Olga passed the ball to you allowing you to begin running up the wing, however as you were about to send a cross into the box, your legs were swept from under you, your head hitting the ground leaving a ringing in your ears.

Your ankle ached, and the harsh shrill of the whistle only worsened your growing headache.

“Come on amor, get up for me por favor.” You rolled onto your back to reveal Ona stood above you, worry evident all over her face, until in contorted to one of guilt for hurting you.

However at seeing your girlfriend you forgot all about the foul she just committed on you, and instead sent her a toothy grin, which she chuckled at, before helping you up and whispering a quick apology into your ear.

Ona accepted her yellow-card graciously, and you were awarded with a free kick, which you stepped up to take.

The free kick went just where you wanted it, and immediately found the head of Caicedo, to which she slotted it into the bottom corner, running straight to you to celebrate.

With Barcelona’s recent winnings, the evened out score was unexpected, and it was obvious that many Barça players were getting annoyed, resulting in more dirtier challenges, mainly directed at you.

The game went on into extra time, the referee choosing to give 13 minutes, however it didn’t take long for you to help your team find the back of Barcelona’s net once again, nutmegging your fellow English teammate Lucy, and passing it to Raso, who was able to tap the ball into the goal to put Real Madrid in the lead.

After 4 more minutes of defending from your team, the final whistle blew.

3-2 to Real Madrid, in a sold out Camp Nou stadium.

The win was unexpected after the long list of defeats Madrid has had from Barça, as your teammates went to celebrate with fans, you instead sprinted to your girlfriend who was stood with a defeated look on her face whilst talking to Aitana, Lucy and Keira.

As much as you wanted to hug and pepper your girlfriend in kisses, the fans and cameras would catch it, so instead you settled on shaking her hand and politely asking for a jersey swap with her.

When you successfully retrieved your girlfriend’s jersey, you told her and the others ‘good game’ and told Ona you would meet her at her car, before running off to celebrate with fans.

After signing what seemed like the hundredth jersey, and taking the thousandth picture, you retreated back to the locker room, and got a quick shower before getting dressed.

Your teammates asked you to go to a bar in Barcelona with the Barça team, it was sweet how they all still wanted to celebrate with each other no matter the outcome of the game.

———

You got ready at Ona’s house after she drove the two of you there with a hand on your thigh the entire journey home.

After the two of you were ready, and after you had to push your girlfriend off you for the 8th time she tried to keep you home by attempting to persuade you with repeatedly shoving her tongue down your throat, you eventually got to the bar, only an hour late.

The adrenaline still coursing through your veins combined with the shots and drinks you had drank with your teammates, supplied you with the confidence to saunter over to your girlfriend, and sit down in her lap.

Most of the Barça team had chosen to lay of the drinks, they hadn’t won and so didn’t really feel like celebrating too heavily.

This meant that your sober girlfriend quickly noticed your tipsy state and laughed as you sent her a toothy grin, finding her lap very comfortable.

However, as your sweet pecks on her cheeks turned to you trying to now shove your tongue down her throat, the Spaniard was fast to push you back, leaving you pouting whilst waiting for her reason.

“Amor, people could see, remember?”

You replied with a huff and a simple “I don’t care!” And the continued your assault on her neck, to which she pulled you off her lap completely, leaving you whining at the loss of contact.

“Amor, not here!” Ona scolded playfully.

“I know places baby, no one would see!”

Ona only shook her head at your statement, she was not going to go any further than kissing whilst you weren’t 100% sober.

“We should probably get back, I want you to spend your last day tomorrow with me instead of hungover in bed amor”

As drunk as you were, you registered Ona’s words and agreed with her, so you let the brunette defender lead you to her car, as she took you back to hers.

———

You did not remember much from last night, your splitting headache and sore limbs only an indication of how much you had to drink last night before Ona took you home.

You reached for your phone, and were shocked to see thousands of notifications from instagram.

Opening the app, you only laughed in response to what you saw, the candid photo someone had taken was beautiful and captured the love both you and Ona felt for each other.

———

barcafanupdates

y/n yl/n and ona batlle spotted at bar in barcelona last night.

liked by user1, user2 and 68,783 others.

comments:

user1: they’re so cute together

user2: rivals?! I want this now!

user3: stop this is so funny- the fact they’ve only ever been on rival teams.

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yourusername

although it was nice hidden, i guess it’s now time for the world to know your mine

tagged: onabatlle

comments:

onabatlle: amor, te amo ❤️

mapileon: I guess I can tolerate a *gag* Madrid player for Ona.

-> ingridengen: Mapi! Be nice.

user4: and they were rivals…

user5: them casually making out in a bar after Madrid defeated Barça is my Roman Empire 😭

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