#these are brodie's last canon words

[sapphic-agent]

Last one I promise, but damn it's so good to get this off my chest. You mentioning Rachel slapping Santana brought this one again, but someone made a post there last week about Santana deserving to get slapped by Rachel after the understudy issue. How Rachel was incredibly graceful to let Santana live there but Santana showed "narcissistic behavior" by following her to get a reaction out of her. Post got over 100 upvotes.

Rachel supporters didn't condemn Rachel for slapping Santana at all but rather explained why she finally clapped back (how satisfying it was to see her do so) and some even saying she deserved it, agreeing with the person who posted. The people that said no it wasn't deserved got downvoted immediately. They didn't want to even consider other people's opinions. One person commented that saying someone deserved to be physically assaulted is a bit harsh also got downvoted. To that person they responded with instances where Santana physically assaulted people like Rory and Quinn, but that's not what the thread was about. Those people then got massively upvoted. They like to do that whenever someone tries to defend Santana. Use moments where Santana was bad when it has nothing to do with the thread just so that Rachel can look good for their point.

Again, like to reiterate, thanks for speaking about this here. I probably would have thought I was the problem if I didn't notice that other people notice the problems on that sub too.

It's funny that people will bring up Santana slapping Quinn and Finn when it comes to Rachel slapping her. But when it comes to bashing her for slapping Finn- for fucking outing her- not one word about Finn assaulting Puck and Brody and trying to pull Quinn out of her wheelchair. I brought the wheelchair thing up once and the response was, "he didn't actually do it, plus they were both at fault!!"

Again, a double standard. People never hold Finn- the cis straight white man- accountable for his behavior. It's always he didn't do anything wrong, if he did then it was justified, if it's not then it's understandable. He called a baby the r-slur and people defend him because of the actions of her mother.

Meanwhile, Santana and Quinn get crucified for lesser offenses. Fun fact, neither one of them have ever used a slur. Finn's used two, one of which being entirely unprompted. No one even mentioned Down Syndrome or anything else, he just said it to be cruel because he knew it would hurt. He does that shit constantly, like when he called Brittany stupid. What makes me mad about this is that she hadn't even done anything wrong. All she did was switch teams- which is entirely her right- and he decided it was okay to insult her.

And you know what Brittany did? She didn't resort to calling Finn names or belittling him like he tried to do with Santana. All she did was tell him he was wrong and walk away. She showed him grace even though he sure as hell didn't deserve it. That's usually how decent people handle their issues with others. Finn was not decent.

But circling back to Rachel, I've watched that scene a lot. And no one ever brings up the fact that Rachel was the one who started with the insults. She was the one who started talking down to Santana, she was the one who wouldn't shut the fuck up. And in her rant, Rachel didn't slap her when Santana called her names. Rachel slapped her when she said she was just as good as her.

It was never about the insults, it was always about Rachel's fragile ego. If Tina or Brittany had auditioned to be her understudy, she wouldn't have cared because neither of them are as good as her. If it had been Mercedes, she would have had the exact same reaction (maybe even worse) because she's threatened by Mercedes (that's canon, as shown in season 3 and season 5) just like she's threatened by Santana. It has nothing to do with her relationships with either of them, it has everything to do with Rachel lashing out whenever she feels threatened.

The proof is literally in season 2. Sunshine was a complete stranger who she knowingly could have killed due to her insecurity. Whenever Rachel perceives a threat, it's like a switch flips in her brain. It's happened so many times before.

And even if it was about the insults and Santana's past actions, that just makes Rachel look worse. She's the one who wanted Santana to live with them, she's the one who chose to keep Santana in her life. She made a conscious decision to be around Santana. If she was still harboring resentment, why would she do that?

Because the only way to cope with Santana's (and Quinn's) bullying was the belief that she would be on top once high school was over. That she could look down on her once popularity didn't mean anything. She openly admits this in season 2. This heavily implies that she kept Santana around to feel superior to her, and what better way to do that than to keep her close so she could flaunt that in person? So when Santana broke out of the box Rachel put her in, she flipped out. It's a pattern of behavior with Rachel.

Rachel is a good character in seasons 1 and 2. She gets called out, admits to her mistakes, and tries to be better. She's still annoying, but it's alleviated by the other characters balancing her out. The new writers really screwed up with her, especially in season 5, by giving her everything she wants no matter how terribly she acts.

[angelhummel]

*throwing this at my followers and running away*

I Found Myself A Cheerleader

another pezberry fic by me :)

Rating: E

Word count: 8220

Summary: Santana catches Rachel in a compromising position.

Canon divergence, assuming Santana moved to NY and enrolled in classes at NYADA much sooner. Set around mid s4

(Kurt and Tina are mentioned by name but not shown. Brittany, Finn, Brody, Puck, Jesse, and Cassie are referenced but not by name)

read on ao3

~~~

Santana strode down the hallway to her apartment, slowly rolling her head, then her shoulders as she walked. These dance classes were kicking her ass worse than she’d imagined. It was just because she was out of practice, she told herself. A few more weeks and she’d be back to her old self. Things would get easier. Then she could start dancing circles around everyone else in class and make them even more jealous of her than they surely already were.

The thought made her smile as she reached her door. Both roomies were out at the moment and wouldn’t be home til later. She was trying to decide how to spend her few short peaceful hours as she fumbled through her dance bag for her keys.

Maybe do some cool down yoga to help her unwind. Take a nice hot bath afterwards. Hell, maybe even rub one out while thinking about her new dance instructor with the perfect hot older bitch attitude and the abs to die for.

Santana finally made contact with her keys, pulling them out and unlocking the door, letting herself inside. She turned to slide the door shut, freezing on the spot when she heard a noise from further inside the apartment.

“Hello?” she called out tentatively, quickly adjusting her keys so they were sticking out between her fingers, her hand clenched in a tight fist around them. Just in case. She forced herself to step forward, inching closer towards the curtains that made up their three bedrooms. “Kurt? Rach? Who’s there?” She cringed at herself for immediately turning into the dumb first kill girl in every horror movie ever.

She was overreacting, she thought. It was probably just some mutated subway rat the size of her arm that wandered its way in and decided to make a nest out of Berry’s homeschooled chic sweaters.

Actually, she wasn’t sure if that was the best or worst case scenario.

The curtain to Rachel’s room fluttered, and Santana steeled herself to face down whatever was in there. She crept over to it, reaching for the edge to yank it back.

“Hey, it’s just - ME!” Rachel shrieked the last part as the curtain flew open and all she could register was Santana’s fist at eye level before she flinched away and clenched her eyes shut.

“Jesus fuck, Berry, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” Santana groaned, dropping her bag to the ground and tossing her keys on top of it. “Why the fuck didn’t you answer me? I could’ve seriously mangled your face.”

“I - I was about to, I just…” Rachel trailed off, gesturing vaguely to her room behind her. “I, um, was busy with something… Didn’t want you barging in.”

“Right, yeah, glad we avoided that,” Santana shot back, rolling her eyes. “What are you even doing home?”

“My last class was canceled. What about you? I thought you were still taking those extra evening lessons?”

“No, all my instructors thought I was spreading my awesomeness too thin so I’m just taking the regular courses now,” she replied. She looked back at Rachel, actually taking in her appearance now that her little adrenaline rush had passed and her heart rate was returning to normal.

Rachel’s hair was pulled back into a messy bun - heavy emphasis on the mess. Her cheeks were noticeably flushed, she was avoiding eye contact with Santana. And she seemed to be clutching onto the edge of her robe for dear life, keeping it shut tight all the way up to her neck.

A lightbulb went off in Santana’s head.

“What?” Rachel asked, her voice small as she chanced a glance up to Santana’s face. Just to see a knowing smirk quirking at the corner of her lips.

“Oh, nothing…” Santana shrugged. “I just get it, okay? Empty apartment, you thought it would be the perfect time for a little self care. No shame in it.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Rachel replied with a puzzled frown.

“Jesus, fine, you need me to spell it out for you?” Santana asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared at Rachel. “Self care? Masturbation? Nothing to be ashamed of, seriously. A little self exploration is totally healthy. Especially for someone as sexually repressed as you.”

Rachel’s cheeks got redder and redder the more Santana spoke. “Okay, you’ve made it clear that you have completely misread this situation!”

“Really? Your hair is a mess, your face is red, you’ve got that robe wrapped around you so tight it’s probably cutting off your circulation… And there’s no guy in sight,” she added, craning her neck to get a better look into Rachel’s room like she had to be sure. “So unless you’ve got Invisi-Billy in your bed, it looks like you did this to yourself.”

“I -” Rachel shut her mouth as quickly as she’d opened it, biting her lip as she fidgeted on the spot. Santana arched an eyebrow, wondering if she was going to say anything else. “Fine, you know what? You’re right. You caught me,” Rachel finally conceded. “I thought I would have the apartment to myself for an hour or so, so I thought I’d engage in a little self pleasure. Are you happy?”

“No, not really.”

“Well that makes two of us!” Rachel snapped. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you can go take your shower, or whatever it is you do after class, and I will get dressed, and we will pretend like none of this ever happened.”

“Heard that one before,” Santana muttered, letting out a noise of surprise as Rachel actually tried shoving her out of her room. “Jeez, Berry, it’s not worth manhandling me over. Seriously, it’s not that big a d-” Santana cut herself off, her gaze dropping down to where Rachel’s robe fell open. Not like she was trying to get a peek or anything. And even if she had been, she would’ve been out of luck. Because instead of bare skin, Santana caught a glimpse of an all too familiar red, black, and white fabric.

Her eyes went wide, and Rachel blushed impossibly darker as she scrambled to fully cover herself back up.

“Berry, please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Santana said, reaching out to grab the collar of Rachel’s robe. Yanking it open to reveal the bright red WMHS logo across her chest. “What in the Invasion of the Body Snatchers is going on here?!” She took a step back, staring at Rachel in disbelief.

“Okay, listen, it’s not whatever jealousy or psychosexual reasoning I’m sure you think it is, okay?” she asked. She kept her head down, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor as she spoke. Far too embarrassed to even try and meet Santana’s eyes again.

“Well..?”

Rachel took a deep breath before continuing. “Tina sent me a picture earlier. Apparently she just joined the Cheerios,” she told Santana. “And I realized that meant I was the only glee girl that was never on the squad. And I remember you mentioning you brought your uniform with you, to have a reminder of your past life at McKinley. So I thought I’d try it on for a second and see how I would’ve looked, were I ever a member of the team. I was planning on putting it back before you ever even realized it was gone. It was just a little harmless dress up, that’s all.”

“Dress up? I mean if that’s your kink, fine, but you at least could’ve asked me first.”

“Santana!” Rachel whined, her head snapping up to look at her friend with wide, desperate eyes. “Is there any possible way we can move forward from this point without you making fun of me?”

“Hey, come on, who’s making fun of you? It’s just a little good natured ribbing. Friends do that, right?”

“Well it doesn’t feel good natured,” Rachel pouted. “I think I might actually die of embarrassment right now...”

“Oh, come on, me thinking you were finger blasting yourself in an empty apartment was way more embarrassing.” Rachel’s cheeks lit up again, and Santana just laughed when she turned on the spot to go back into her room. “Okay, okay, I won’t talk about that either! But seriously, it’s not that embarrassing. Either of those things. But especially not wanting to try on the uniform. I mean, the Cheerios were pretty much the only group you weren’t a part of in high school, right?”

Rachel stood in her room with her back to Santana, one hand on the curtain like she was ready to close it, but not moving to do so just yet. She nodded.

“Right, so, no big deal that you wanted to see what you’d look like on the squad,” Santana continued. “Seriously, Rach, it’s not a big deal, okay? This isn’t actually high school. I’m not gonna run off and tell all the cool kids what happened so we can laugh about it in a glee club meeting later. I mean, I guess I could go tell Humdrum Hummel, but he’d probably end up giving me a long speech about how I shouldn’t make you feel ashamed of your body or whatever the fuck.”

“That’s probably true…” Rachel replied, a barely there smile on her lips. She let go of the curtain, hesitating a moment before turning back around to face Santana. “Would you, um… Oh, it still feels so embarrassing. Wouldyoutakeapictureofme?” she asked in a rush, anxiously biting her lip again.

“Oh, uh, sure,” Santana replied, surprised at the request. She’d still been expecting Rachel to shoo her out so she could get changed. She didn’t even think she’d get to see the full getup on Rachel. Not that she was dying to or anything. No, obviously nothing like that. But she’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t at least a little curious to see how Rachel looked in her old uniform.

Rachel smiled when Santana agreed, pulling her into her bedroom and closing the curtain behind them. “We’ll take the pictures in front of the curtain - it makes a good neutral backdrop. Let’s see… Lighting, we need lighting,” Rachel muttered to herself, going around her room to set everything up.

Santana should’ve known that all Rachel’s embarrassment would melt away when it came to being photographed. But she let the other woman do her thing, until Rachel was handing Santana her phone, already in camera mode.

Rachel took her bun down, her hair cascading down over her shoulders as she walked back around in front of Santana. Santana’s gaze shifted to Rachel’s hands to watch her undo the tie on her robe, shedding it to reveal the full look.

Santana’s throat went dry. The uniform was custom made to fit her exact measurements, which made it the tiniest bit tight on Rachel. But that wasn’t something Santana was going to complain about. She glanced down, realizing Rachel had also put on sneakers to complete the ensemble.

Santana let herself indulge a little, her eyes slowly making their way up Rachel’s toned, tanned legs. It was always a mystery to Santana, how someone so short could have legs that seemed to go on for so long. Those schoolgirl skirts and flouncy little dresses Rachel always wore to school were bad enough. But the Cheerio skirt on her was positively lethal. Santana barely even glanced at the hints of skin peeking through the fabric slats of the skirt before she noticed Rachel’s hands clasped in front of her body, fidgeting together.

“So… What do you think?” she asked. Santana snapped herself out of her daze to realize Rachel was waiting for a verbal response. Seemingly nervous and… shy? That was a new one.

“You -” Santana started, her voice coming out breathier than she expected. She cleared her throat and tried again. “You look good.”

“Really?” Rachel asked, instantly relaxing at the compliment. “Thank you… I was worried I’d look silly. You really don’t think I look silly?”

“God, no, Rach. You look seriously hot right now.”

The blush from before came creeping back into Rachel’s cheeks as she smiled at Santana’s praise.

“Okay, okay, picture time!” Rachel clapped. She backed up to the curtain, facing Santana with her hands on her hips and a bright grin on her face.

Santana smiled to herself, snapping a couple of pictures of Rachel like that. “Very cute,” she commented. “But you have to give me a real cheerleader pose.” She watched as Rachel gave it some thought, then switched poses. Drawing a knee up and balancing on one foot, raising her arms up over her head in a big V. “Ooh, much better. Shake them pompoms, girl,” she teased.

“But we don’t have any - oh.” Rachel giggled, but held her position as Santana took more pictures. “You’re so bad…”

“You love me for it,” Santana said. She lowered the phone, so Rachel dropped her pose. “So, uh, who are the pictures for?” she asked curiously, feeling like she needed a distraction to keep herself from leering at Rachel any more than she already was. Talking about either of the two guys Rachel was somehow still juggling seemed like a good way to bring her down.

“No one,” Rachel replied quickly. “I mean, it isn’t like that. I just wanted them for my own benefit. And I suppose I’ll send one to Tina, since she inadvertently started this. Of course I’ll have to show Kurt - he’ll get a kick out of it.”

“You can send them to me,” Santana said with a slight shrug, hoping that would somehow make it seem like a casual and not at all weird thing to suggest.

“Really? You’d want me to send them to you?” Rachel asked. Her expression shifted from confusion to mischievous as a smirk slowly spread across her face. “Why? Something for your spank bank?” she asked, trying her hand at teasing Santana like Santana had just been doing to her.

Santana didn’t respond, feeling a lump forming in her throat with the way Rachel was staring at her right now.

“Oh my gosh, I was kidding!”

“Shut it, Berry,” was the only comeback Santana could muster.

“Santana, I had no idea you felt this way about me,” Rachel teased, twirling back and forth on the spot and making her borrowed skirt flare out with each move. “It’s nice to know you think I’m so attractive.”

“Berry, if you keep talking, I’m going to throw your phone out the window.”

“Aw, come on, San. What did you just tell me? Something about how this is all totally normal and it’s good to have a healthy sexual appetite -”

“Okay, I warned you.” Santana marched to the other side of the room, Rachel’s phone clutched tight in hand, heading over to the closest window.

“No!” Rachel exclaimed, chasing after Santana and snatching her phone back. “Those windows don’t even open, you know?”

“No, but I bet they break,” Santana replied flatly.

“God, Santana, is that really still how it is with you? You can dish it out but you still can’t take it?” Rachel asked, crossing her arms over her chest and arching an eyebrow at the other woman.

Santana didn’t answer at first, just looked Rachel up and down again to take in her full appearance. She let out a short laugh, shaking her head.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing… You’re just really embodying the whole cheer captain HBIC thing right now. It’s impressive, really.”

“Well I am an actress. It’s what I do,” Rachel replied, distracted from tormenting Santana now that she was being complimented again.

“True… But you’re missing something.”

“What?”

Santana turned to Rachel’s vanity, grabbing a brush and hair tie and waving them in front of her face. “The high pony, duh. You went to all this trouble to try the uniform on, you might as well rock the whole look. Otherwise it won’t be as authentic or whatever.”

She sat back on Rachel’s bed, making herself comfortable against the pillows at the headboard and gesturing for Rachel to come sit in front of her.

“I suppose you make a good point,” Rachel said, joining her on the bed. She settled in between Santana’s legs, her back facing Santana’s front.

Santana took her time in gently brushing through Rachel’s hair and gathering it all up at the crown of her head. Thankful for the fact that Rachel’s back was to her at the moment. She just needed to calm herself down. Stop her mind from racing to dangerous places.

Really, she didn’t know what came over her all of a sudden. Santana was in college. In New York. Santana was a grown adult now.

So why was she feeling butterflies like this was some stupid high school crush?

It was just the uniform, Santana told herself. Obviously it dredged up feelings for her ex and memories of everything they got up to in high school. But even as Santana tried her damnedest to redirect her feelings to a more appropriate place, all she could think about was Rachel. All the times she subtly (or so she thought) checked her out during glee practice, or a group trip to Breadstix or the Lima Bean. She thought about when Rachel showed up to class in her Britney costume, and how it seemed to jumpstart Santana’s whole sexual identity crisis. Even before that, in sophomore year Santana would often find herself staring at Rachel’s legs in those ridiculously short skirts during dance rehearsals before she was even totally aware of what she was doing.

Okay, the little trip down memory lane certainly wasn’t helping. Suddenly all Santana wanted was to get away from Rachel and really calm down. Whatever was going on with her right now, she didn’t need to add it onto the already strained and beyond complicated relationship she had with Rachel.

She wrapped the elastic around the ponytail and tightened it - possibly a little too hard, given the way Rachel hummed in response - and sat back against the headboard. The most distance between them that Santana could manage right now, given the fact that Rachel was practically sitting in her lap.

Rachel turned halfway around to look at Santana, and Santana was sure by the look on her face that she didn’t have the same tumultuous thoughts swirling around in her own head.

Of course she didn’t.

“So… How do I look now?” Rachel asked with a hopeful smile.

“Awesome…” Santana whispered. And then, without thinking, reached up with one slightly trembling hand to try and sweep Rachel’s bangs to the side. “You should wear your hair like this more often… You always have so much hair in your face, like, all the time. Someone could start to think you’re hiding behind it.”

“Maybe I am…” Rachel murmured. “I always thought that pulling my hair back would only serve to highlight my… beak.”

Santana’s hand dropped back down to her side, as her stomach started to twist itself into knots. Of course while she was inappropriately thirsting over Rachel, Rachel was just going through every insult Santana had ever hurled at her in high school.

Because when were they ever on the same page?

“Well that’s rude. And it’s just not true… Who said that?” Santana asked quietly.

“Oh, just some mean girl I knew back in high school…”

“Yeah, well… she’s not here anymore,” Santana whispered. She took a deep breath, forcing herself not to break eye contact with Rachel as she spoke. “Look, Berry, if you tell anyone I said this, then I’m throwing you out the window instead. But you’re hot, okay? Like seriously hot. You’d have to be blind not to see that.”

Rachel blushed - they’d both been doing plenty of that this afternoon, Santana thought - and smiled at the praise.

“Thank you…” she replied softly, her gaze downcast as she played with a loose thread on the comforter. “I was being flippant earlier, but it really does mean a lot that you see me that way now…”

“Not just now…”

Rachel froze, looking up to meet Santana’s eyes again. “Santana…”

Santana shook her head slightly, needing to snap herself out of this little bubble she’d created for herself and come back to reality. “You, um - We can take some more pictures now that your hair is -”

Rachel lunged forward, cutting Santana off with a kiss. Eager but not forceful, almost like she was expecting Santana to push her away.

Santana didn’t push. But she was too stunned to react. Before she really processed what was happening, Rachel broke the kiss herself.

“Oh my gosh…” Rachel whispered, her hand coming up to gently touch over her own lips. Looking as stunned as Santana felt, like she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me… That was very impulsive and I know I should’ve asked for permission first or - or given you a warning but I -”

Santana interrupted her with a kiss of her own. Gentler this time, just a way to wordlessly tell her it was okay, that she didn’t have to work herself into a lather over this.

Trying to convince herself of the same thing.

Rachel looked much more calm when they broke apart this time. She turned around completely, sitting on her knees and facing Santana fully.

“Well… this is certainly new for us.”

“No shit,” Santana replied. Doing her best to hide just how affected she was by the kisses.

Rachel wasn’t thrown by her attitude.

“New is good,” Rachel continued softly, looking into Santana’s eyes. “I mean, if someone told me three years ago that not only would you and I be living together, we’d be genuine friends on top of that, I would’ve thought they were lying. But our relationship has progressed leaps and bounds over the years and, well, here we are now… Who knows? Maybe this was the obvious next step for us?”

Santana just stared at Rachel, her brain still struggling to process their kisses, never mind whatever monologue Rachel was busting out to try and justify what they’d done. All she could do was nod her head once she realized Rachel’s speech sort of required a response.

“Obvious” was the furthest thing from her mind right now.

“We don’t have to have it all figured out right now…” Rachel said softly. “I know it’s a lot, and you don’t seem to want to discuss it at the moment, which is completely fine by me… I don’t know what this means for us. All I know is that I really want to kiss you again…”

“Rach?”

“Yes?”

“Do you ever shut up?”

Rachel opened her mouth to answer, but Santana didn’t give her the chance. She pulled Rachel close again, taking whatever response she was formulating and turning it into a soft, muffled moan as their lips met once more.

No longer hesitant, no longer worried about being rejected, they let themselves indulge. Giving in to their desires, and letting the spark between them ignite into a full blown flame.

Santana’s arms wound tight around Rachel, and Rachel pressed closer against the other woman. Shifting so her legs were bracketing Santana’s, and she was sitting in her lap.

When Santana pulled away this time, it was to start trailing kisses along Rachel’s jawline instead. Her hand crept up Rachel’s back, up to the ponytail she’d styled just minutes earlier, getting a firm grip and using it to tilt Rachel’s head back, exposing her neck and giving Santana plenty of new territory to explore.

And explore she did.

Spurred on by Rachel’s soft little hums of pleasure, Santana let her lips wander over every exposed inch of Rachel’s skin she could reach. Paying special attention to each and every noise falling from Rachel’s lips, every shift of her body, making sure she knew what kind of reaction she got from every spot she kissed.

A kiss just below Rachel’s ear earned a sharp gasp in response.

Santana’s lips brushing over the curve between her neck and shoulder pulled a soft whine from Rachel.

An open mouthed kiss to Rachel’s pulse point - Rachel’s body jolted in Santana’s arms, a low moan escaping her lips.

“There we go…” Santana purred, a self-satisfied smirk on her face as she went back in for more. Kissing over the same spot, as Rachel’s grip tightened on Santana’s shoulders. Darting her tongue out to lick over it, making Rachel squirm in her lap. Sinking her teeth in and starting to suck at her skin, causing Rachel to cry out in pleasure.

“Santana…” Rachel breathed, her eyes clenched shut as Santana teased the oh so sensitive spot on her neck.

Santana just hummed in response, not wanting to let up until she knew she’d left her mark. She looped Rachel’s ponytail around her hand, getting a better grip and yanking her head back further, earning another moan from Rachel.

“Santana, please…”

That got Santana to stop. She kissed over the faint purple hickey she’d managed to leave, before looking up at Rachel through her lashes.

“Please what?”

Santana’s grip loosened on Rachel’s hair, so Rachel had enough room to tilt her head forward again. She just stared at Santana with heavy lidded eyes, her lips still parted but no more words coming out.

“Oh, now you’re speechless?” Santana asked, a teasing lilt to her voice. It was slight, but apparently enough to make Rachel blush. “Suddenly you’re shy about making demands?”

“Asking for a solo that I know I deserve isn’t exactly the same as… this,” Rachel whispered.

Santana chuckled at that, shaking her head as she looked up at Rachel. “Is that it? Think you haven’t done enough to deserve a little pleasure?”

Santana wrapped both arms securely around Rachel again, holding her tight as she sat up. Switching their positions, she laid Rachel back on the bed, their legs slotting together as Santana settled herself over Rachel. She leaned in closer, like she was going in for another kiss, but swerved at the last second and brought her lips up to Rachel’s ear instead.

“You want me to make you work for it, Berry?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

Rachel whined softly, shook her head.

“Well you have to tell me what you do want…”

“I - I want you…” she breathed. Santana tried to pull back enough to look down at Rachel, but the other woman tightened her arms around Santana’s body, keeping her in place. “I want you to - to stop teasing me, and kiss me, and - and touch me.”

“Better…” Santana whispered. Still attempting nonchalance to hide the way her heart jolted in her chest at the request from Rachel.

She rewarded Rachel’s bluntness with more kisses and nips to her neck, still making sure to focus on the spots that got the best reactions. Keeping herself balanced with one arm on the mattress, her other hand came up between them to touch Rachel. Running over the stiff material of the uniform, hesitating just a moment before cupping Rachel’s breast.

Santana knew from experience that it was difficult to get any real gratification from over-the-uniform touches, but Rachel still gasped at Santana’s actions. So she kept it at that for a few moments, sucking another mark into Rachel’s neck as she toyed with her. Squeezing gently, then a little harder, rubbing her thumb over her nipple, trying to see if any of it was working for her.

Just when she was about to ask if Rachel wanted to get the top out of the way, she had her answer.

Rachel’s hand came down to the wrong side of the uniform, fumbling for the zipper that wasn’t there.

“Please get this stupid thing off of me,” she said with a frustrated huff, pouting up at Santana.

“Fuck, you’re such a brat…” Santana muttered, reaching up to the right side and quickly tugging the zipper open. Easily ridding Rachel of the uniform top, and leaving her naked from the waist up.

Santana’s eyes roamed over Rachel’s half naked body, drinking in this new sight before glancing back up to meet Rachel’s eyes. Feeling like Rachel was waiting for her approval.

“Still hot, though,” Santana whispered. She moved down a little, kissing all over where she couldn’t reach before. Letting her lips lead the exploration over Rachel’s collarbones, her chest, the space between her breasts. Her hand slowly wandered up Rachel’s side, enjoying the bare skin underneath, but paused just short of groping her again.

“We can stop if you want to…” she told Rachel. Needing more than Rachel’s reserved silence before she was comfortable going further.

Rachel shook her head quickly. “Please don’t stop…”

Santana felt a sense of relief flood through her body, just knowing Rachel was into this. Into her.

She smiled, and leaned up to press a soft kiss to Rachel’s lips as her hand met her breast again. Repeating the same actions she’d done over the uniform top, for a much more enthusiastic Rachel this time around.

Santana kissed back down Rachel’s body, circling her nipple with her tongue before taking it into her mouth and sucking gently.

“Ohh…” Rachel moaned, reaching up to thread her fingers through Santana’s hair and hold her in place.

Not that Santana planned on moving any time soon.

She was enjoying Rachel’s reactions far too much. All the breathy moans, the little mewls of pleasure, the way her body trembled underneath her, how she tugged at Santana’s hair when Santana got the tiniest bit rough with a pinch or a nip.

And how, before long, Rachel started to weakly grind against Santana’s leg that was situated between both of hers. She thought she felt the slightest damp patch rubbing against her thigh.

“Have you soaked through two layers already?” she asked, licking her lips as she looked up at Rachel. “Or did you decide to go completely commando under my uniform, pervert?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Rachel whispered, parting her legs in invitation.

Santana happily accepted.

She slid a hand down Rachel’s stomach, bypassing the skirt part of the uniform, and let it disappear beneath the waistband of the bright red spankies.

Rachel whimpered as Santana’s fingers brushed over her sensitive clit, and easily glided down lower over her slick folds.

“Fuck, how are you this wet already?” Santana asked in a low, husky voice, keeping her eyes on Rachel’s face as her fingers teased Rachel with practiced, expert movements.

She could tell Rachel was wearing her own underwear as well, because she wasn’t immediately met with the less comfortable fabric of the Cheerio panties. She could also feel a wet spot against the back of her hand letting her know that, yeah, Rachel had already soaked through two layers of clothing.

That was doing wonders for her confidence.

“Is this all from a few hickeys and a little second base action? Makes sense, it’s probably the most time anyone’s ever spent on your pleasure…” she murmured, kissing over one of the marks she’d left behind earlier.

Maybe it was the lingering mean streak in her that begged Santana to tease Rachel even in this situation. But the way Rachel was moaning and basically humping her hand, Santana was sure she could say anything right now and Rachel wouldn’t give a fuck, as long as Santana kept working her clit the way she was.

“Or maybe you started getting turned on when I was taking your picture…” she continued, biting over Rachel’s pulse point and making her cry out. “I know how much you love that…” She licked over the spot to soothe it, pressing a soft kiss there as well. “Too bad I can’t get to your phone now, or I’d have to take some pictures of you like this…”

Rachel let out another soft whimper, absently nodding her head along with Santana’s words.

Santana had thought Rachel didn’t care what she was saying, but maybe she was wrong.

She was starting to think Rachel was getting off on it.

“No, I know what it was…” she purred, slowing her movements down and just idly circling her index finger over Rachel’s clit to draw things out and keep teasing her. “I bet you started getting turned on because I walked in on you doing something risqué. Caught in the act, and all that. You seem like the type of person who needs a healthy little dose of humiliation to get themselves going. Fuck, if that’s the case, you must’ve been this soaked 24/7 in high school…” she chuckled. “That could explain a lot…”

Rachel whined, her face completely flushed pink again. Santana wondered if it was caused more by her words or her actions. Whichever it was, she wasn’t stopping either one.

“Mm, but honestly, I think I was right the very first time…” Santana said, her hand slipping a little lower as she started to sink two fingers into Rachel’s leaking entrance.

Rachel gasped, her legs involuntarily coming closer together. Santana had to nudge them apart again with her own leg to keep Rachel open for her.

“I think I walked in at the start of a very elaborate masturbation session. I think this game of dress up was just the first step.”

She thrust her fingers in with slow, shallow motions, just letting them fill Rachel a little at a time. Delving deeper and deeper, bit by bit, until they were buried as deep inside as they could get. She held still a moment, her thumb finding Rachel’s clit and working it as she started to pump her fingers in and out.

“I know how much you like to put on a show, Berry, even if you’re the only audience member,” she whispered in her ear, listening to the short, ragged breaths that Rachel took as she rode Santana’s fingers. “And the way your mirror and vanity are both facing the bed, well, you would’ve had the best seat in the house, wouldn’t you? Looking like Cheerio royalty, sitting on the edge of your bed with your legs spread, fingering yourself, with the best view from all angles… I bet you would’ve gotten yourself off in no time.”

“Shut… up!” was all Rachel could muster in response. She shoved a hand into her underwear alongside Santana’s, starting to rub her clit while Santana fingered her.

Rachel’s orgasm hit almost immediately, and her back arched off the bed as she came with a loud, lyrical moan.

Santana worked her through it, fingering Rachel until she was spent and stilled her own hand. She pressed a few soft kisses along Rachel’s neck and shoulder as she slowly pulled her fingers out, and pulled them free from the confines of Rachel’s underwear.

“Even your sex noises are annoyingly musical…” Santana muttered.

“I-” Rachel stopped, staring up at Santana as Santana popped her fingers into her mouth and sucked them clean.

“You..?” Santana asked, but Rachel didn’t respond. Just grabbed her by the hair and pulled her in for another heated kiss. Surprising Santana by immediately licking into her mouth, chasing the taste of herself on Santana’s tongue.

The kiss was as quick as it was dirty, and Rachel pulled back far too soon for Santana’s liking. She laid back on the bed, her eyes closed and her lips parted as she let out a content sigh.

Santana laid there as well, watching Rachel for a few moments as she awaited her next move. When she couldn’t be sure one was even coming, Santana started to feel awkward. She turned onto her back, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

Was that it? One and done? She honestly wasn’t expecting Rachel to pay her back, but at least acknowledging her presence post orgasm would be nice.

Santana rolled her eyes, resigning herself to her long overdue shower, and pretending like this never happened once she left the confines of Rachel’s room.

She sat up to leave, but a gentle hand on her arm made her pause.

“Where are you going?” Rachel asked, her brows knitted together ever so slightly as she looked up at Santana with those deep brown doe eyes of hers.

“Shower. Figured you’d want some privacy to change.”

“But I haven’t even - I mean, you didn’t let me…” Rachel trailed off, pouting a little as she pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Are we done?”

“You tell me,” Santana replied with a shrug. Her icy attitude creeping back in now that there was the slightest possibility of Rachel rejecting her again.

“I… I don’t want to be,” she whispered, sitting up fully now and frowning at Santana. “I just needed a moment to catch my breath. I’ve never - Well, it’s been - That was the best orgasm I’ve had in a while,” she admitted. “I didn’t know it was possible to have such a strong reaction from a little fondling and dirty talk.”

“Yeah, well, it’s safe to say I’m the hottest partner you’ve ever had,” Santana replied airily, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. “That probably helped.”

“I most definitely agree with you there…” Rachel said with a shy little smile. “Which would make it all the more disappointing if you were to leave without letting me reciprocate. I mean, you’re still fully dressed, and I was so caught up in what you were doing to me that I was barely in my right mind to do anything back.”

“Well I guess if this is where you want to start worrying about equality and fairness, you won’t hear me complaining,” Santana smirked.

Rachel reached out to tangle her fingers in Santana’s hair, pulling her into a kiss. She eased Santana back on the bed, and Santana went willingly, letting Rachel crawl on top of her and take the reins for a while.

Rachel made short work of Santana’s dancewear, getting her out of her tank top and shorts, then her sports bra, and finally her underwear. Leaving Santana completely naked, while Rachel still sported the remaining vestiges of the Cheerio uniform.

She sat back on her heels, slowly running her hands along Santana’s smooth, toned legs, admiring the view in front of her.

Whether in uniform, dancewear, street clothes, or nothing at all, Santana was every bit as gorgeous as Rachel always knew she was. She used to envy her for it - hate her for it - but those thoughts were so far away from Rachel’s mind at this moment that they might as well have belonged to someone else.

How could Rachel hate her now? How could she be jealous? When Santana was naked in her bed, baring herself completely for her, and her alone. It was everyone else that should be jealous of Rachel now. Because Santana was hers.

At least for the moment.

A slight smirk tugged at Rachel’s lips as her gaze settled on Santana’s opening, seeing her skin already glistening with wetness.

“And you were making fun of me earlier?” Rachel teased, reaching out to run a finger agonizingly slowly over Santana’s folds. Santana shuddered lightly at the touch, then watched in awe as Rachel immediately brought her finger up to her lips and swirled her tongue around it. “Mm, looks like somebody is a bit of a hypocrite…”

“Take it as a compliment, Berry…” Santana muttered, wrapping her legs around Rachel to try and pull her closer. Rachel giggled - actually fucking giggled - and gently pushed Santana’s legs back down to the bed.

“You took your sweet time earlier, I think it’s only fair you give me the same courtesy,” she murmured. She carefully settled herself over Santana, pecking her on the lips once before starting the journey lower, trailing kisses down the column of Santana’s throat.

She must’ve wanted to repay everything Santana did to her, Santana thought, because it wasn’t long before Rachel was latching onto her neck and sucking a mark, in almost the exact same spot Santana left one on her.

Santana reached up to grab onto Rachel’s ponytail again and hold her in place. Her other hand found Rachel’s, bringing it up to her breast so Rachel could give her a different kind of pleasure at the same time. Rachel didn’t protest being moved like this, no doubt too concerned with her budding hickey to say anything. She just let Santana guide her, and started teasing her nipple like she wanted.

Rachel didn’t pull away from her neck for what seemed like ages, and Santana knew there had to be a nasty looking mark left in her wake. But Rachel seemed proud of it judging by the self satisfied little smile on her face.

Rachel gently blew over the wet patch of skin, and Santana shivered.

“Felt like marking your territory, huh?”

“Maybe…” Rachel smiled, before kissing her way lower.

Santana figured none of Rachel’s past fucks were into nipple play, because when Rachel got to second base, she could tell Rachel was mimicking what Santana had done to her. Which wasn’t really a bad thing. Santana knew what she was doing, so Rachel copying her just made it seem like Rachel knew what she was doing.

So it was oh so upsetting when Rachel pulled away far too quickly for Santana’s liking, and started kissing lower down her body instead.

“Oh, you’re -” Santana cut herself off, licking her lips as she watched Rachel.

“Is that okay?” Rachel asked softly, stopping to look up at Santana with her mouth just a few inches shy of Santana’s pussy.

“Fuck, yeah, more than okay…” Santana replied with an eager nod. “I just - didn’t think you’d go for muff diving right away.”

Rachel wrinkled her nose up at the phrase, but pressed a soft kiss to Santana’s hipbone. “I’ll admit it’s something I’ve always been curious about…” she murmured. She dropped another kiss to Santana’s lower abdomen, then moved down to kiss along her inner thighs. “It’s an act that I certainly wouldn’t mind adding to my sexual repertoire…” she added in between kisses.

“Mm, you make it sound so sexy…” Santana purred, her words dripping with sarcasm.

“As sexy as ‘muff diving’?” Rachel shot back.

“Why don’t you put that mouth to good use and eat me already?” Santana asked, still holding onto Rachel’s ponytail and bucking her hips up slightly.

Rachel retaliated by grabbing onto Santana’s thighs, keeping her spread open and pressed down against the bed at the same time. She leaned in closer, hesitating at the last second like she had to steel her nerves, before just going for it.

Santana moaned at the initial contact, holding tight to Rachel’s hair but letting her go at her own pace. Which, Santana quickly found out, was much more erratic and scattershot now that she really didn’t know what she was doing.

“Fuck, Rach, it’s not a competition,” she breathed, gently tugging on Rachel’s hair to get her to back up a little. “It’s been a while for me, too. I just wanna enjoy the ride, okay?”

“I - Sorry…” Rachel whispered, licking over her lips and avoiding Santana’s gaze. “Do you, um… Any advice?” she asked sheepishly.

“You can start by taking your time…” she replied softly. “Just try to remember how it felt whenever you were on the receiving end of it, and try and mimic what felt good to you.”

Rachel remained quiet, still not looking up at Santana, or attempting to resume her oral work.

Fuck, Santana thought, getting enough information in Rachel’s silence to fill in the gaps of her sex life. Or at least enough to realize that Rachel’s sex life was nothing but gaps. With the guys she’d been with, Santana knew it couldn’t be good, but goddamn. It was way past the point of being even a little comical to her now.

Though Santana didn’t think she could be the best teacher. All her experience with guys was just lesson after lesson on what she definitely didn’t want. With her ex, they got to figure things out together. And in the limited hookups she’d had since moving to the city, there were only women who seemed way more experienced than her.

She took a deep breath, gently running her fingers through Rachel’s bangs to sweep them back out of her face.

“Just think about whatever feels good when you touch yourself, and turn it around on me. But with tongue,” she said. “I mean, use your fingers, too. Don’t let me limit your creativity. Just slow it down a little. And don’t just focus on the clit the whole time, either. That’s like, a total rookie mistake.”

“O-okay…” Rachel nodded. “Sorry for being such a drama queen about all this…” she added quietly, pressing a conciliatory kiss to Santana’s hip.

“Like I’d expect anything less…” Santana murmured. “But don’t worry, I plan on giving you lots of opportunities to practice until you’ve totally perfected your technique.”

Rachel cracked a smile at that, ducking her head bashfully and leaving a few more kisses in her wake as she traveled back to Santana’s center. She started again, working much more slowly this time, taking her time to just savor everything about the experience.

Santana let out a soft hum in satisfaction, going back to holding onto the base of Rachel’s ponytail, guiding her a little but mostly letting her explore on her own. She spread her legs wider for Rachel, folding her other arm behind her head so she could prop herself up and enjoy the view.

“Mm, better already, baby…” she breathed. “Just nice and slow for now. You can build up to more…”

Rachel hummed in response, sending a shiver up Santana’s spine.

Santana didn’t offer too many instructions after that, but wasn’t shy about praising Rachel either. She let her know what felt good, encouraged her to keep going, even told her how hot she looked.

Of course Rachel ate it all up.

But she had to back off after a while just to catch her breath. Feeling light headed, like she’d somehow been forgetting to breathe this entire time. “Still doing a good job?” she asked, tracing her index finger over Santana, following all the same paths her tongue had taken.

“Better than good…” Santana whispered, her hand sliding down to cradle Rachel’s jaw, her thumb brushing over her bottom lip that was slick and shiny from her juices. She raised her hand up to suck it clean and taste herself.

Rachel smiled proudly at that, her attention shifting downward again as she slowly started to push two fingers inside of Santana. Santana moaned, clenched tight around her, before relaxing into it. Rachel watched as Santana’s hips rolled with her movements, fucking herself deeper and deeper onto Rachel’s fingers.

She brought her other hand up to spread Santana open further, making it easier to get to her clit. She swirled her tongue around it, sucking gently, as her fingers started moving faster in and out of Santana.

“Fuck, baby, just like that…” Santana moaned, her hand tight in Rachel’s hair to keep her in place now. Rocking her hips up to press herself harder against Rachel’s tongue, and down again to fuck herself on her fingers. “I’m close…”

It only took a few more moments for Santana to chase down her orgasm, crying out as she came and spilled out all over Rachel.

Rachel didn’t stop. She just doubled down, working her fingers at a rapid pace inside Santana and eagerly lapping at her cunt until she got Santana to cum again.

“Fuck!” Santana cried, pulling Rachel in suffocatingly close and riding her tongue and fingers until her second orgasm subsided. She had to push Rachel back after that, her sensitive pussy desperate for a reprieve.

Rachel popped up from between her legs, a smile on her face as she crawled up the bed to lay down beside Santana. “Still good?” she asked.

Santana turned her head to look at Rachel, just to see most of the lower half of her face shining with her juices. She let out a breathless laugh, leaning closer to plant a sloppy kiss on Rachel’s lips - trying to taste herself more than she was actually trying to kiss Rachel. “You’re a fucking mess…” she mumbled, falling back against the pillows. “You must’ve really been dying to experiment like this.”

“I was. Eager, I mean…” Rachel whispered, keeping her eyes on Santana’s as she spoke. “But not just for an experiment, or experience points. That was nice, of course, but… Well, I couldn’t see myself doing this with just anyone. And you certainly aren’t just anyone.”

“Damn straight,” Santana smirked.

Rachel laughed.

“Imagine if we knew three years ago that we would end up here…” Rachel sighed. “We could’ve saved ourselves a lot of fighting.”

“Nah, I think we needed the build up,” Santana replied. “It was three years of very elaborate, drawn out foreplay.”

“Maybe you’re right…” Rachel chuckled. “Just promise me it won’t take three more years of arguments and insults before we have sex again.”

“Oh, I promise.”

“And hey, since you were so fond of the dress up idea, I’m sure I can dig up some old plaid skirts for you to wear next time…”

“Don’t push your luck, Berry.”

[thebowerypresents]

The Strokes Get Nostalgic at Forest Hills Stadium on Saturday

The Strokes – Forest Hills Stadium – August 19, 2023

It’s hard to tell if it was a fake-out or not. Julian Casablancas, early into the Strokes’ set on Saturday night in Queens, was singing the praises of our “fair metropolis” (his words, sort of) and said it would be “a great place to end it all.” Granted I’d been (lovingly) duped one set earlier. Angel Olsen, the soulful North Carolina folk-rock goddess, had already pulled a typically goofy bait and switch: “I’ve been so inspired,” she said, adding that her travels drove her to write a new song just a night earlier. “You guys know it, right?” she asked her bandmates. They smiled and launched into “Shut Up Kiss Me” (My Woman, 2016), the torch-rock banger that largely put her on the mainstream map. 

So back to Casablancas: I nervously laughed, we moved on. How couldn’t we? The night was genuinely perfect, created-in-a-lab perfect for the Strokes’ much-anticipated hometown show — and their second of only two in the U.S. this year. “Sorry to talk about the weather,” he deadpanned at one point. (He bantered often and oddly, as is canon for him.)

The crowd was huge, every other fan sporting merch, new and old. They erupted from the first notes of “Is This It,” the set opener and title track off their first LP turned rock standard. But the crowd lost it from every first note of every song. Why wouldn’t we? The boys are near mascots to legions of elder millennials, having soundtracked a good portion of their impressionable alt-rock youths. The hits hit: “Someday,” “Reptilia,” “Meet Me in the Bathroom.” And the newer tracks landed, too, “Ode to the Mets” (The New Abnormal, 2020) in particular. Casablancas’s voice — that pitched-down and notable blend of New Wave crooner and Jim Morrison — and Albert Hammond Jr.’s singular rhythm guitar work are still, impressively, it to me. 

The return of “Modern Girls & Old Fashion Men” — the Strokes’ 2004 single with Regina Spektor — was among many special moments. “It only took 20 years but look who showed up,” said Casablancas as she took the stage to join him, the crowd roaring. Another incredible surprise: For the first time in 17 years, they played “15 Minutes,” off First Impressions of Earth (2006), a low-key favorite of mine with something of a too-long-at-the-pub vibe. By the encore’s end, and after a deeply fun, singable night of nostalgia to the face, we were back at the beginning, with the frontman’s original tease — although it sounded a bit different this time. “This might be our last show in New York,” he said. The crowd booed, the music began and “Last Nite” hypnotized everyone into briefly not caring whether he was bluffing. A dangler of an end but a blast nonetheless. —Rachel Brody | @RachelCBrody

Photos courtesy of Dana Distortion | distortionpix.com

[jesssssah]

Just Like Love 4/5 (Halloween Party)

Fandom: Queer as Folk (US TV 2022)

Ship: Mingus/Brodie

Rating: M

Warnings: Angst. Canon HIV-Positive Character. Sexual Content.

Summary: For the MF Halloween Bingo. A post-canon Mingus and Brodie getting-back-together story, set a year on from the teardown party.

Update is below the cut.

Or you can start from Chapter 1 on AO3 here.

Brodie’s phone buzzing on the floorboards from somewhere underneath the couch in Shar and Ruthie’s lounge room wakes him. Somewhere nearby is a baby monitor but that’s been quiet for hours, and the TV is on but just as mute; Super Smash Bros went to sleep soon after he did, which was after Flo and Jet finally did. 

When he rolls over to search for his phone, a 3DS controller hits the floor with a sound that in the silence of the morning seems so loud Brodie actually stops breathing for a hot second. His brown eyes glue themselves to the monitor’s screen as he waits for thrown-off blankets and wails through the speakers that he hopes won’t come. And there is a murmur or two in the seconds that tick by slowly after that, but to his relief, the toddlers stay sleeping. 

His eyes scan the floor for his phone first, before he moves this time, just to be completely safe. It buzzes on the floorboards again and he spots it, reaching out to pick it up. He lays back on the couch, phone now in hand, to find two new messages from Mingus. The first one is not a message as such, it’s a link to a post about a Halloween party at Babylon next month. The second message is just a single word: Come.

Six weeks have passed since the day he and Mingus went kayaking. In that time, they’ve hung out more times than Brodie can actually remember, but some of the times stand out. All the times he met Mingus after drag school stand out because since kayaking, doing that has become a regular weekly occurrence. Brodie will ride across town to the puppet theatre. On the way to making sure Mingus gets home okay, sometimes they’ll stop for a while at a reserve and talk on the plateau of a low hill for walkers with a winding path leading up to the top, which overlooks a community skate park. It’s not too far off Mingus’ direct route home. 

Sometimes, instead of just talking, they’ll use one of the half pipes down in the skate park for a while, Brodie dropping in on his bike and Mingus pretending to practise combos on their board. In reality, they’re really just creating opportunities to make whatever cute skirt they're wearing on that particular day flare out in front of him, Brodie’s learned to read it by now. But he never complains.

He still hasn’t gone back to Babylon for any drag shows, even though Mingus has sent him plenty of invites, but the one he’s just received has one big difference: Mingus’ drag name is on the bill for this one. None of the invites they’ve sent him until now have ever featured Chickie-fil-A.

He breathes through his nose slowly, sighing out, still on the couch, and still with his phone in hand. He stares at the single word: Come. Then he posts an ‘eyes’ emoji in reply. And then, a few seconds later, a third message from Mingus appears: That means you will. 

And there’s a smiley-face emoji that they’ve posted after that.

_________

A few hours later — once Shar and Ruthie have arrived back home and once Brodie has survived the handover, and cycled the two miles north to a costume hire store he googled while he was still on the couch — he’s feeling his usual cocktail of emotions post baby-sitting when his tumbling thoughts are interrupted by a familiar voice saying a familiarly acerbic thing.

“Well hey, hot, smart, and afraid of commitment.”

Brodie smiles. “Marvin!” he cries, with no need to turn around to see who it is first. He’d recognise that read anywhere. “How is heteronormative life? I hear it’s about as much fun as church.” He locks his bike to a loop on the street and then he turns around to actually lay his eyes on Marvin; it’s been a few months since they last caught up. “You look good,” Brodie admits. “So, maybe monogamy isn’t that bad. Maybe it’s only like a high school detention?”

Marvin throws him some serious shade. “Fuck off with your compliments, Brodie. You don’t get to be passive-aggressive with me today. Or any day.”

“What are you even doing out here? Don’t vampires burn in the sun?”

“What does it look like I’m doing out here, genius? What do people usually go to costume hire stores in the month before Halloween for? Speaking of vampires though, that’s our get-up. Me and Ali are going as Louis and Lestat. And before you ask, I’m Louis.”

Brodie frowns. “Wait a minute, isn’t it Lestat who drinks from the proverbial well of vitriol, though? Or when Anne Rice died, did canon die too? I guess as long as they’re actually fucking each other now, and not just eye-fucking anymore, then—”

“Ouch, bitch… Yes, that is Lestat… Louis is the whiny little bottom. Sounds much more like me, don’t you think?” 

“True,” Brodie concedes with a grin and Marvin grins back.

Then his face softens and the tone of his voice changes. 

“Seriously, Brodie, whose ass are you up? You’ve been lonely too long, is my feeling… I mean, I get it that last year was rough and that we are all doing our best to move on but… I mean, what the fuck are you even doing down here?” He gives him a deeply appraising look and Brodie feels his stomach tighten as Marvin’s scrutinous eyes appear to see right through him. “Does this mean you’re coming to the Halloween party? Is that why you’re down here? Let me guess… Chickie invited you, right?”

Brodie huffs. “I’m not lonely, Marvin… And yes, she did, okay? I got a message about it this morning, so… I’m thinking about going… Thought I’d go look at some costumes and take my mind off…well, other stuff.”

“Thinking about going?” Marvin’s appraising look turns decided. “And yet here you are all the way down on Lafayette on a Sunday morning… You know what? I take it back. You’re not afraid of commitment, Brodie. Because if that ain’t a commitment, I’m a Rockette.”

“You overuse that joke, did you know that?”

He comes to a stop near to where Brodie’s locked his bike, pulls out his phone, and does something on it. “That’s for me to decide, and for you to put up with,” he answers, grinning again as he holds the phone up to his ear. “Guess I’ll be seeing you soon, though. One thing I know is that drag shows at Babylon are not the same without you, Brodie, so it will be good to have you back… Really.”

Brodie gives him a perturbed look but he doesn’t say any more. Whoever Marvin’s called answers, and then he starts a quick conversation with them as a cab pulls up, after which he starts to organise both himself and his chair inside it.

_________

Metal scrapes metal as Brodie flicks through a rack of superhero outfits, now inside the colourful little costume hire store, after seeing Marvin off. When he gets to the end of the row, he moves on to the next one, on autopilot by now. Some of the things Marvin said outside are still fresh in his mind, like echoes in his ears, and as he riffles through the furry onesies, one of those echoes becomes a voice that’s very much like Daddius’.

They say you shouldn’t fuck your friends. 

“You were never my friend, Daddius.”

I was your best friend. 

“Best friends don’t fuck each others fiancés.”

Noah wasn’t your fiancé then. You went to Baltimore, Brodie, remember? Hot, smart, and afraid of commitment? Oh, but you dropped out of med school, didn’t you? Scratch that part about being smart. 

“You know,” Brodie says, finally reaching the end of the row, but not expecting the last thing there to be something he’d actually consider hiring, and he takes it off the rack and holds it up to take a closer look at, “I really didn’t miss these little chats we used to have—”

“Excuse me?” 

Brodie grits his teeth and lowers the Duck Hunt costume. He’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he says quickly to Bussey, feeling foolish all of a sudden, and more than a little bit worried about himself.

“I’m the only one here.” She looks him up and down suspiciously.

Brodie looks around the part of the store they’re in, and with relief he realises she’s right. It’s just the two of them in this section. He lowers his voice. “Was I really talking out loud just then?”

“You were.” She lowers her voice too. “Is everything okay? You’re not using on the regular again…are you?”

“No!” 

Bussey raises her hands in defence. “I’m not judging you, bitch, I’m just asking! Are you in counselling? And I’m still not judging you, by the way.”

Brodie sighs. “No,” he repeats, huffing. “I’m fine… Sometimes I just…need to think things through aloud, okay? That’s… That's all.”

She looks at him like she doesn’t believe him. “You? Think things through?” She snorts.

Feeling frustrated, Brodie goes to hang the costume back on the rack, questioning why he even came in here, let alone considered it. He should have just told Mingus no.

But before he can find the rail to hook the hanger back on, return the costume, and get the hell out of there, Bussey’s arm is blocking his way. “Hold up.” 

She takes the costume from him and raises it high in the air, inspecting the thing for herself. Turning it back and forth, eyes running over every seam. “So, what’s this?”

Brodie shuffles his feet and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his shorts, feeling stupid. “It’s the Dog half of Duck Hunt from Super Smash Bros… It’s like a two-part character see, there’s also a Duck? But in this costume the—”

She gives him a withering look. “Ain’t nothing wrong with my eyesight, Brodie… What are you doing with it? Thinking of going to a party soon?”

“Maybe.”

Bussey gives him another of her trademark looks and Brodie caves.

“Urgh, okay… Yes, for fuck's sake… Are you happy now? I’m going to the Halloween party at Babylon.”

“I know,” Bussey reveals, thrusting the costume against his chest. “Chickie told me.”

For a moment he can only gape at her, lost for words at first. Her arm is still extended, she still holds the costume against him. Slowly he reaches up to take it back but she doesn’t let go of it yet. She just raises her still expectant eyebrows even higher.

“She invited me,” he concedes, feeling nervous, and like he needs to explicitly say that to her, like that’s what she’s waiting to hear. “I’m not seeing Ruthie if that’s what you think, she went back to Shar—”

“That’s not what I think.”

“So, what then? That I should have gone to Manchester? You’re doing this because—”

“I’ve told you before,” she says, “you’ve got to feel your feelings, Brodie. You can’t even run from them for a short time, let alone a long one... They are always there with you, no matter where you are… Manchester… Baltimore… Outside my drag school once a week? What I’m saying to you, Brodie, is that once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence… But three times?”

Bussey looks hard at the costume, pressing it even harder into Brodie’s chest as though insisting he take it back, and he does. And only then does she drop her arm away, to leave him to hold it alone.

“You break a girl’s heart three times, Brodie, and you won’t need no costume to remind her you're a dog. She’ll know it.”

Bussey steps away. “Don’t fuck it up,” she mouths.

Then she turns on her heel and leaves the store, to Brodie again left mute and staring.

_________

Thanks for reading. Archived here on AO3.

[hellyeahomeland]

I don't understand why some people are trying so hard to convince the HL audience that C&Y don't love each other. Leave the others believe what they want because we all have seen only some minutes of their life together and everyone can perceive in his way. Sorry to bother you. xoxo

Other anonymous ask: S 3-7-8: Carrie and Brody were always working each other. Carefully parsed words, never able to truly trust each other. Their love was born out of intensity of their life and death situations. It's easy to mistake that for passion. Just before he was arrested, they still wondered if they could make it together. Yevgeny, he only knew how to work people to his advantage. Just like Simone in S7.E11, who thought Yevgeny loved her and would always protect her. He was willing to write her off to accomplish his mission. He thinks he has worked Carrie for the last two years, to get the book out of her and thus prove where her loyalties lie. Yet, she has worked him, convincing him of her trustworthiness so she can access intel like Anna did. It's all a game. One she is willing to play to give Saul back his valuable ear to the Russian elite.

I love the dichotomy of these two asks lol.

If I've learned anything from the nearly 18 months since the finale, it's that people, myself included, will take from the finale what they want and need in order to have their view of the series at large validated. Some people need to believe that Carrie and Yevgeny love each other, even as she's deceiving him, because the alternative--that she's stuck herself in this unhappy, loveless existence for the rest of her life in order to get intelligence for a country that betrayed her--is too damn bleak to justify an 8-years-long investment.

On the other hand, some people need to believe that Carrie Mathison, our heroine, could never fall for a man who'd tortured her (even though there is canonical precedent for that), that she could never publish a book undermining America, and so the entire thing is a giant ruse.

Anyway, it's clear where I stand.

We can debate this forever and forever, because the truth is that there is some ambiguity in it.

It was exceedingly rare for the writers to ever craft a story on this show that was objectively clear-cut. In a way, the finale is a Homelandian Rorschach test.

But what of intent? What were the writers and the producers intending? I would strenuously argue they were intending the first version, the one which is, true to form, revealed in that bit between black and white, the grey, the space where Carrie herself told Yevgeny they already lived. The one in which Carrie is in a relationship with a man who'd imprisoned her, in enemy territory, permanently away from her daughter. The one in which Carrie has taken back control of her own story. The one in which Carrie is extracted from a toxic, co-dependent relationship, but attempting to rebuild it, step by step, in the image of something more productive and healthy. The one in which Carrie is, finally, free. The one in which Carrie has not been crushed. That's the story.

[love-takes-work]

Steven Universe Comic #31 (2019) - Outline & Review

The thirty-first installment of the ongoing comic series for Steven Universe is about encouraging Peedee to develop confidence and have fun during a dance contest.

Plot:

Steven and Connie are immediately excited when they see a flier advertising a dance off . . . and they could win free pizza for a year! They've got to enter!

In their enthusiasm, Steven and Connie spread the word about the dance contest to Peedee while he's getting them their fry bits. Steven's seen Peedee dance before and thinks he's got some awesome moves. He encourages Peedee to show up for the dance contest even though Peedee himself seems less than confident in his skills.

Peedee's a little worried that people will laugh at him, but Connie assures him that they will deal with anyone who laughs at him with extreme prejudice. However, Steven and Connie have their own problems; when they count their money, they don't have enough to cover the entry fee, and Steven's wealthy dad is out of town as manager of Sadie's band while they're on the road. They decide to combine their cash AND their bodies and enter as Stevonnie. Decision made, they practice dancing.

Peedee sees Stevonnie dancing and compliments them. He seems distressed, though, and admits to Stevonnie that he worries about his dancing because he's "in his own head" about it, in stark contrast to the carefree way Stevonnie dances. He feels inadequate competing against them, and in a burst of motivation, he asks if they'd mind giving him dance lessons. Stevonnie, flattered, consents.

Peedee still struggles with confidence, while Stevonnie is an unending fountain of positivity about how good he'll do at the dance off. He's still unsure when the dance off begins, and when Stevonnie sees him, they ask him to come out and dance. He's hesitant, and Stevonnie respects if he does not want to dance, but they encourage him and play up what fun it will be. Peedee finds that to be true when he accepts.

Soon they're all having a great time, but Stevonnie becomes conflicted when they realize the judges are focusing on and encouraging them. They want to win, but they want Peedee to win! How can they do both? Luckily, Mr. Smiley appears and provides an out: He wants Stevonnie to emcee instead of participate, because Nanefua lost her voice and their substitute DJ--Onion!--refuses to speak. With some relief at not having to compete against Peedee, they accept the last-minute emcee gig.

Stevonnie amps up the crowd and calls out compliments for all the dancers on the floor. But eventually, a dance off emerges. And who might it be? Jamie vs. Peedee!

The dancing heats up and both dancers are having a blast. The judges select a winner and give the envelope to Stevonnie to read, but a seagull snatches it and they have to pass the announcement back to the judges. Garnet gets up and handles it. They've selected Jamie as the dance contest winner and the recipient of all that pizza.

Stevonnie is concerned that Peedee will be so disappointed, and runs out to console him. But this turns out to be unnecessary . . . because Peedee, despite even his own expectations, really enjoyed the dance contest. He had an excellent time!

Mayor Nanefua comes to comment on the close call (though she can still hardly speak; lost voice you know). Peedee and Stevonnie feel very good about the outcome! And what's more, Nanefua awards Stevonnie a lesser prize of 1 month's free pizza for helping out with the emceeing. Stevonnie offers to split a pizza with Peedee and the comic ends.

Notable:

1. In the very beginning, in the place where Steven discovers the dance off flier, there is also a flier for "Sadie and the Killers," which seems like a corruption of Sadie's actual band name, "Sadie Killer and the Suspects." In the previous comic, #30, Steven also calls the band "Sadie and the Killers" in dialogue, though he also referred to them correctly earlier in that comic. Seems to be a weird misconception somewhere that keeps getting repeated. (Later in this one, Mr. Smiley mentions "Sadie Killer," but not the rest of the band name.)

2. In other news, I'm also very curious about the poor lost iguana being searched for by Ronaldo on another flier. I sure hope Brody's okay! But maybe it's good that the iguana escaped Ronaldo . . . one never knows.

3. When Steven is urging Peedee to enter the dance contest based on having seen him dance before and thinking he's talented, it reminds me a little of when Steven did the same thing to encourage Sadie to sing in Beach-A-Palooza in the TV episode "Sadie's Song."

4. Steven and Connie suddenly own piggy banks that they dramatically bring together to count their money for the entry fee. When it's only enough combined cash to make one entry fee, that inspires Stevonnie's entry instead of separate entries, and the author remembered that Steven's dad is way too rich to not be able to give Steven a $40 entry fee, so they had him conveniently out of town with no way to ask him for money. I do kinda wish they'd just decided to fuse for the contest because they wanted to, or so they wouldn’t have to compete against each other, or to choose to save money, instead of having a setup where they were pushed into that conclusion due to lack of funds with the First National Bank of Dad conveniently out of town. This is nitpicky, but in a comic where several developments occurred due to coincidences and forced circumstances, I would have preferred seeing some agency.

5. Stevonnie's Gem is drawn sort of inconsistently in this comic. It's supposed to be pentagonal but it shows up as hexagonal most of the time. It's strange because the same artist worked on this comic who worked on the previous one and Stevonnie was in that comic too with the correct facet configuration.

6. Peedee has a weird little mini-Frybo that he's carrying around in this comic. He hides his face behind it once while he's embarrassed. What a throwback.

7. Stevonnie encourages Peridot to "get out of the Temple more" at one point. I wonder if that means she's supposed to be still living in Steven's bathroom in this part of the timeline. Comics exist in a weird limbo sometimes.

8. Stevonnie's encouragement for Peedee is all really cute and relatable. All the scenes where they're helping Peedee are so genuinely full of Steveny optimism.

9. Mr. Smiley appearing and begging Stevonnie to emcee is a strange scene because he claims he's been looking for Stevonnie "since the competition started," and yet right before that we see him at the judges' table looking at them and approving with the other judges, in no apparent panic to recruit them as an emcee. I'm just as puzzled that Mr. Smiley couldn't just do it himself instead of acting like he's desperate for Stevonnie's help, considering it was supposed to be Nanefua's job (forfeited due to her lost voice) and she's also a judge so it can't be because he needed to be free for judging. It would've been a nice little gesture if someone on the panel (surely Garnet!) noticed Stevonnie's conflict and suggested this solution, but there was no indication that the problem was fabricated.

10. They call Barb "Mrs. Miller" in this comic--it's unclear in the show whether Barb has a partner, but nothing has indicated that Sadie has another parent in the picture or that her mom is married to anyone. I am not sure if she's actually a Mrs., but so far in canon we just have absence of evidence.

11. Garnet congratulating Jamie and referring to the prize as "more pizza than is usually recommended" and "enjoy your many, many, many pizzas" was hilarious and great writing for Garnet.

12. I love that Peedee enjoyed himself even though he didn't win the dance-off, but I felt a little disappointed that the story elected to take Stevonnie out of the conflict inherent in competing against a friend you're rooting for by throwing an equally appealing escape right in their path in the form of them being NEEDED for another role. It's nice that there was still a conflict that Peedee had to face and work through, but at the same time I kinda would have liked to see Stevonnie resolve the issue without a ready-made exit. And I feel similarly about a seagull snatching the winner-reveal envelope out of their hand so they didn't even have to personally announce that Peedee didn't win. I liked that Stevonnie got to have some free pizza too, though, since Steven and Connie seemed to really want that pizza but didn't care as much about how others felt about their dancing.

13. Man, Peedee enters the contest just wearing his usual tank top that he wears at work. Doesn't that boy have any other clothes?

14. I thought the way the dancing was drawn in this comic had some excellent energy! It really conveyed motion very well and each frame looked like it captured bodies on their way to another position, not just awkwardly posing. I love when art can do that.

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

[isa-ghost]

LoF2 Parts 1 & 2 Notes

PART 1 NOTES:

WEE WOO WEE WOO, ANNOYINGLY ATTRACTIVE DIPSHIT GETS MORE ANNOYINGLY ATTRACTIVE VIA STEALING DARKIPLIER’S EYELINER AND CHANELING HIS INNER GERARD WAY.

So anyway fUCK that creepy borderline seductive ass stare and fUCK those red and blue Mayhem lights, its time to perish in flames.

DISCLAIMER: Normally I don’t note game dialogue because its not typically a hint or anything being that its part of the game, but I saw several good tidbits on my dash that are... Way too unnervingly relatable to our boys and theories to just not say something.

Also, I am TOTALLY on board the “this is Marvin” train, but I agree it could be Anti too, especially given he appeared in the first LoF, which I actually haven’t ever watched hmmm, I should do that... Edit: this was written last night before I had some Realizations that I get into down below.

Just like I thought, his face is getting redder just like during Mayhem.

So this goes on throughout the video I’m pretty sure, but we’ve already mentioned the whole actor thing going on in the game is very fitting for Marvin. He’d be very comfortable on stage most likely. Alternatively I thought of the whole actor thing as a puppet show. Do with that what you will... Again, its in game so to us it could mean absolutely nothing but ideas. Nothing canon.

Same thing with all the mask talk. Huuuuge Marvin energy, but nothing canon, only inspiration.

10:27 - “Oh no, sad puppet man! Are you sad like me?” Sad... puppet... “like me”... Godamn it, McLoughlin, get that Chase sounding shit outta here.

36:51 - “I gave chase Brody-” WHY THE FUCK DID I NOT SEE ANYONE TALK ABOUT THIS YESTERDAY??? HE STRAIGHT UP SAID CHASE’S NAME BECAUSE THE WORD “CHASE” WAS IN A NOTE.

39:23 - “Well Gary, it was nice hanging out with you. I hope you find your wife and your kids, and you don’t die of scurvy.” Not even three entire minutes after purposely saying Chase’s name, he pulls this comment... Ffs. Not only that, but according to what I saw today about Part 2, he’s wearing Chase’s shirt. I know we’re suspecting Anti or Marvin in that thumbnail, but I dunno guys... With these three Chase nudges, I’m starting to lean towards my Something Is Wrong With Chase And He Might Be Corrupted theory again...

40:12 - “Am I a magician?” See now with the previous statements in mind, this feels like a taunt even if it isn’t. >:/ It’s like he figured that between Marvin Appreciation Week, the acting theme going on in the game, and knowing Marvin appeared last Mayhem extremely briefly, he knows we’re thinking Marvin might be the one we’re seeing, when really it might still be Chase.

This sparked a big theory idea, here’s a link to said theory post.

PART 2 NOTES:

Red and blue thumbnail again. Aaand-

Chase shirt alert, as mentioned before.

3:29 - “Thanks dad!” Dad jokes are a classic Mayhem thing. I know I say that every time, I do it just in case someone who’s never read my notes before reads them

And that’s all I managed to catch, might’ve missed some comments he made.

[pi-creates]

What’s your favorite season of TWDG? Who are your main ships? I feel like we always ask you for screengrabs but never about yourself or your blog. You are appreciated!

Aww, anon, that’s sweet of you... but I think you’ve opened up a can of worms because it turns out I have a lot to say on those topics.

I get the feeling my favourite season is probably The Final Season, followed closely by Season 1, and with Season 2 and A New Frontier tied at the back. S1 gets points for being the starting point and punching hard with its emotional moments, but I don’t find it as enjoyable as TFS. And I don’t hate S2 or ANF, but they both suffer from writing problems and are more forgettable. I probably like what I remember of ANF more, but I don’t remember most of it - so they can share last place.

TFS just felt... I don’t know the right word, but contained without feeling too claustrophobic? It may just be personal preference but I like the idea of having a home-base to revolve around compared to the other season’s constant shifting. It gives me the epic adventurer coming back to a warm campfire between journeys vibe.

And I got more of a consistent goal feeling with TFS - the idea of finding a home and keeping it safe for the sake of AJ. I know that the general goal in all the seasons is “find safety”, because duh, but since you find part 1 of that goal early it feels like less of a pipe-dream than before. You’ve got the home, now you just have to make it into what you need it to be.

One big thing too, I found that in TFS you had far more opportunities to explain your thought process after making a decision. And there were more times where the explanations actually matched my thoughts. In other seasons it really bothered me when you were presented with a binary choice and the default response to why you chose it has nothing to do with what you were thinking. 

TFS’s dialogue in general appealed to me more. It probably helped that you had a young character asking you questions regularly - because yeah, children do that. And the so-called troubled kids feel real to me. Plus they know how to apologise... most of the adults in the series don’t have that courtesy until they think they’re 5 seconds away from dead. Damn right I appreciate that for the first time it feels like the whole group is actually cohesive and wants to make things work. 

And, ya know, it was nice not being surrounded by a group where for some reason there is always that one character. We all know which ones, and there is always at least one in each season. It relieves so much tension in my anxious brain when there isn’t someone in the group who makes it their business to be excessively aggressive or contrary for no reason - that’s for the antagonists, not your found family.

So overall TFS just feels more centrally focused on a smaller cast, and truthfully I liked that it had little elements of fun and whimsy that was lacking in the other seasons. It feels more alive to me.

[And I like the art design and animation the most - but I put that down to it being the most recent and having a far smaller cast than previous seasons to focus on.]

As for ships... hate to disappoint, but my ships are probably quite boring compared to others. My brain only really starts looking for ships/romance in games after it gets a little push from something canon.

I didn’t really have any ships in Season 1... to be fair, I saved Doug when I first played so there wasn’t any romantic vibe at all. I appreciate the canon relationships for that season, but didn’t really get in to Carlee since I only really saw that stuff after my first play through (sorry Carlee shippers).

Then Season 2... no, not really any ships there either. Mostly canon stuff again.

And here is where I might lose some people, because in A New Frontier I was totally fine with Javier and Kate, and with Gabe and Clementine. I do think this is probably why I didn’t have as many complaints or issues with ANF, because I didn’t get the forced romance struggle because I was already leaning in to it. And I mean... I thought Gabentine was cute in that awkward but well intended way. I dunno, I found it sweet.

TFS is where my brain actually started thinking about ships before I started playing. And I hate it because I knew romance was going to be involved and I instantly started viewing the game through an otome/dating game lens. I’ve mentioned this before when chatting on other blogs, but I really did think there were 4 romance options when I started playing - Louis, Violet, Brody, and Aasim. 

And I flew right passed the canon options and wanted Clemsim. I still want Clemsim.  I am bitterly disappointed that evidently I am paddling a rare pair as my favourite ship from the entire series, because there is no content unless I make it. It really feels like peddling wares to a crowd that clearly has no interest - which doesn’t feel great.

When I found out Aasim wasn’t a romance option, I actually wasn’t going to romance anyone at all. But then the Telltale closure happened and we didn’t know if the game was gonna be completed, and I felt like I should at least see what the romance was going to offer. 

So yeah, Clouis was the rebound ship. And I do like Clouis a lot, mostly because it has the actual canon content and some lovely fan content. It grew on me, and I do find I appreciate it much more over time. It doesn’t stop me wanting Clemsim, but it works. 

Rusim is there too, because I’m not so bitter that I don’t want to see Aasim in a relationship. It’s on the lower end of the scale though, because yeah, I don’t think it was handled well in canon - fan content is good, though.

While I don’t really have any ships outside of those, I enjoy seeing, hearing and talking about the whole range of pairings. Because I can’t be the only person who adores an unpopular combination - that’s part of why I like doing the swaps and sharing them. It just feels good to put some content out there for the people who don’t normally have any, ya know? 

[fyrapartnersearch]

~ will you let me deceive you ~ (fandom cravings search)

greetings be careful who you trust, the devil was once an angel. ~ lowercase is purely for aesthetic purposes

~ feel free to call me deviation, dev, d, or lexi

~ i am a 22 year old female, meaning that i'd prefer to rp with people 18+ not only to be closer in age to me but also because my rps can venture into dark topics

~ central standard time

~ you can expect an average of four responses a week although i strive to daily respond, if possible.

~ my replies range from 400 - 4000 words, and i try to mirror my partner

~ third person, present tense although i will rp with people who write past tense (to each his own)

~ doubling is required for all fandom roleplays to keep everything fair. please do not contact me, asking if i can just play who you would like.

~ sucker for ooc chat although it is not required what I want in a partner (yes, we like to break the rules, but these aren't meant to be broken) it is not a shame to be deceived; but it is to stay in the deception 1| activity is fairly important to me because if i go two-three weeks without a response, i will likely lose interest which I don’t want to do! i would prefer if my partners could get me, at least, two responses a week.

2| because i am literate, i am looking for partners of the same! i would prefer, at least, two hearty paragraphs per response, although i am more than happy to receive more. would you like to basically create a book with me? i'm totally down!

3| please help me build our universe, and our story. i don’t want to do it all by myself. i want to make sure that we both enjoy it.

4| please don’t godmod my characters, and no mary sues or anything like that! nobody is perfect or without weakness. we love originality!

5| please be able to write in third person because first person makes it a bit weird for me, and way more personal than i'd like to go. i write in present tense myself although i am more than welcoming to those who write past tense.

6| i am ghost friendly, just please let me know if you decide to drop the rp, if you can, so i don’t find myself waiting for a response that will never come.

7| please let me know if you will be unable to respond for a week or longer, just so that I am aware and don’t think you have dropped the rp.

8| this isn’t a rule, but a preference. i love to get to know my rp partners, so ooc chatter is always welcome!

9| please have a good grasp on grammar and spelling. no text talk.

10| be willing to double if you decide to do canon x oc just so that it makes it fair to everyone.

11| please do NOT (see the caps) just send me a message, asking whether or not I’m still looking, or giving a measly sentence about yourself. i would prefer if you would tell me about your writing style, what you want to write with me, etc. give me something to go off of! let me see who you are!

12| i will rp smut, but it needs to be apart of the story and not overtaking it 

fandoms belief is the deception you play upon yourself now, let's move on to the fun part, and what i'm sure you guys are waiting on... the fandoms! because of all of the television i watch (is that a bad thing...?) i have fandoms all over the place that i'd love to rp! unless it is crossed out then i am still looking to do it, so feel free to contact me about it! i will have the fandoms divided up and under each, i will include characters i'm willing to play, and who i'd like to play against. again, just a reminder that doubling is mandatory although it doesn't have to stop there. i'm down to double/triple/quadruple, whatever you want. i also am down for au's and using the universe but using ours ocs. just shoot me ideas of what you want.  tv shows we often shed tears that deceive ourselves after deceiving others 1| arrow i'm currently in season five of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: oliver)

2| flash i'm currently in season three of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: barry)

3| vampire diaries i'm currently in season five of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except enzo, kai, vicki, april, kol) (characters i'm looking for: kol, damon, elijah, klaus)

4| glee i'm completely caught up with this show! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: noah (puck), Jesse, brody, jake, ryder)

5| game of thrones i'm currently in season six of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except gregor, eddard, sandor, oberyn, brienne, melisandre, jorah,) (characters i'm looking for: gendry, ramsey, joffrey, khal drogo, jaime)

6| pretty little liars i'm currently in season three of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: wren, alex, ezra)

7| outlander i'm currently in season two of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: jamie)

8| 13 reasons why i'm currently in season two of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except hannah baker, tony, sheri, skye) (characters i'm looking for: bryce, zach, tyler)

9| elite i'm currently caught up with this television show (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except valerio, fernando, christian, marina, omar) (characters i'm looking for: polo, ander, guzman)

10| shadowhunters  i'm currently caught up with this show and have read the books! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except lucian, jonathan) (characters i'm looking for: jace, magnus, sebastian) 

11| the fosters i'm currently in season two of this television show; meaning that i am not caught up although it does not mean that i won't rp it, just no spoilers, please! (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: brandon) movies it is more tolerable to be refused than deceived  1| mcu (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except strange, peter parker, peter quill, thanos, ant man)

(characters i'm looking for: tony stark, thor, loki, steve rodgers, clint barton, bruce banner) 2| after (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: hardin, jace)

3| twilight (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except emmett, james, sam) (characters i'm looking for: seth, embry, paul)

4| matched (not a movie, technically, but it is in my heart) (characters i'm willing to play: ky, xander) (characters i'm looking for: ky, xander)

5| divergent (only the first one) (characters i'm willing to play: al) (characters i'm looking for: four, eric, peter)

6| the host (characters i'm willing to play: jared, ian) (characters i'm looking for: jared, ian)

7| disney (special plot, shh, it's a secret. message me if you're interested) asian dramas it is amazing how complete the delusion that beauty is goodness 1| crash landing on you (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: junghyuk, seung-joon, kwang-beom)

2| boys over flowers (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: jun-pyo)

3| i need romance 1/2/3 (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: sung-hyun, seok-hyun, joo wan)

4| heirs/inheritors (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: kim tan, choi young-do)

5| good morning call (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: hisashi uehara, daichi shinozaki) anime time will inevitably uncover dishonesty and lies; history has no place for them 1| devil’s line (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: anzai)

2| vampire knight (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: zero, kaname)

3| amnesia (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: toma, shin, kent, ikki)

4| dragon ball z (characters i'm willing to play: goten, gohan, krillin, android 17, yamcha) (characters i'm looking for: trunks, vegeta)

5| kuzu no honkai (scum's wish) (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: mugi) cartoons  life is the art of being well deceived; and in order that the deception may succeed it must be habitual and uninterrupted 1| teen titans (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: robin)

2| young justice  (characters i'm willing to play: anyone) (characters i'm looking for: superboy)

3| adventure time (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except ice king, lsp) (characters i'm looking for: marshal lee)

4| avatar: the last airbender/legend of korra  (characters i'm willing to play: anyone except toph) (characters i'm looking for: zuko, bolin, mako, iroh (younger)) last words deception may give us what we want for the present, but it will always take it away, in the end thank you for reading through to the end of my thread, and i do hope that you found something you liked. just a reminder that all fandoms can be changed to use ocs or au's, i'm very open to those kinds of things! in addition, if you would like to contact me about a fandom, please send a message as opposed to posting on this thread (so i can keep it clean). i am only looking for a few partners, but i'd love to hear from as many of you as possible! thank you lovelies!

contact me 

feel free to email me (inthenameofjustice15@gmail.com) to talk about rping with me! 

[my-status-single]

Tony’s Daughter Part 12 (Interim)

Character Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word count: 1376

Warnings: Reader is Tony Stark’s daughter, Slow burn. 

Synopsis: Part 12 in a series. The start of what happens between Avengers and Iron Man 3.

Authors Note: This is a canon compliant AU. This part starts directly after The Avengers (2012). There will be a few parts labelled interim. They are things that take place between Avengers and Iron Man 3. The Iron Man three Arc will probably be very short and then there will be more interim parts after that.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Side Stories One Two Three Four Five Six

You and Steve walk hand in hand, your arms swinging a bit.

“Does Tony cook?” He asks.

You laugh a bit and look over at him. “What?” You ask.

He looks at you. “Dinner. This weekend. Does he cook?” He asks.

You laugh louder and shake your head. “No, neither of my parents knew their way around a kitchen.” You say.

“So…take out?” He asks you.

You shake your head. “No, actually…I’ll be cooking.” You say and look over at him.

It makes him blush, you don’t know why. “You cook?” He asks.

You nod. “Quite well, if I say so myself.” You say.

He stops you and stares at you. “We’ve been dating for nine months and I never knew you could cook.” He says.

You chuckle softly. “We have not been dating for nine months we’ve been going on dates for nine months. You just barely made it official.” You remind him, teasing him a bit. “Yeah, I can cook. I also can dance. I went to theatre camp. I played footie for a while.” You say.

“Footie?” He asks and furrows his brows.

“Soccer.” You say. “Dad…wanted me to know more than science and math. So…he put me in all kinds of classes growing up. Mum hated it, thought it was a waste of time and talent. I think dad may have been devastated when I went in to science after all. He felt better when I told him it was my choice, he never wanted me to feel pressured into it. And I wasn’t, not by him.” He says.

“What about your mother?” He asks softly.

You sigh and hesitate. “My mother…says I was bred to be extraordinary. She wanted me to be a brilliant scientist like her, dad just wanted me to be happy.” He says softly.

He nods a bit. “I uh…googled you.” He admits sheepishly.

Your eyes widen dramatically. “Google? Wow, that’s quite savvy of you Stevie.” You tease

He rolls his eyes and just cocks an eyebrow at you.

You smile. “And what did you find?” You ask.

He hums. “You’re quite popular.” He says. “Your mom was Katherine Clarke…She uh..” He clears his throat.

“Was another person trying to replicate Erskine’s Formula?” You ask. “Or did you mean the fact that she went crazy and killed herself?”

His eyes soften. “Sweetheart…” He says softly.

You shake your head. “It’s okay. My mother was a remarkable woman, but she had her demons like everyone else.” You say. “She never got the formula quite right. At least not all in one go. She got pieces…the accelerated healing, the metabolism stuff…but all of that was…decades ago. While she was pregnant with me actually.” You say.

His eyes widen. “What?”

You just nod. “Yeah, some of it got passed on to me.” You stammer a bit. “Most of it got passed on to me. It’s why I could keep up with you out there I think.” You say softly. “I’ve never really looked into it. That was her world…not mine. I’ve never wanted it to be mine. But…” You sigh, “I think I’ve gotta look into it. Because things are just…weird.” You say and smile weakly. “Sorry…I’m not trying to freak you out. I promise I pursued you because I like you and not because my mother was obsessed with you.” You say quickly.

He frowns and you start to panic. “I swear Steve. This,” You gesture between the two of you. “is real and organic and not some sick set up.”

He just keeps frowning. “You pursued me?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

You gape at him for a moment. “Yes. Literally yes. We are standing here right now because I was incredibly persistent.” You say.

He laughs. “I think you and I remember the last nine months very differently, sweetheart.”

Your jaw drops. “You’re kidding right?” You say and laugh. “Stevie I practically had to bait you to get you to go on one date with me.” You say.

He shakes his head. “That is not true. I am the one who took us from friends to more.”

You just laugh because you can’t believe he thinks that but you also know trying to argue with Steve Rogers is futile.

You just tuck yourself into his side, he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Whatever you say, Cap.” You chuckle. He kisses the top of your head.

You stay close to each other over the next few days. You practically live in each other’s pockets. Neither of you seem to have the ability to say goodbye. You spend a couple nights at his flat and a few at yours.

“You sure Tony isn’t going to be mad that I’m coming?” Steve asks as you both get ready to head to the tower for dinner.

“You’re my person Steve.” You say softly. “That means you very much belong at family dinners. Dad seems pretty fond of you anyway.” You say and kiss his jaw and pull off his tie. “Don’t need that.”

He frowns. “I want to make a nice impression.” He says.

“He already knows you baby.” You remind him.

“Sure…but this is the first time you’re bringing me home as your boyfriend.” He says.

You kiss him softly. “It’s going to be fine. No tie.” You say softly. “This is a casual family dinner. Nothing scary, nothing intense. This isn’t a test Steve. I’m already yours. You’re already mine. We’re just going to my dad’s for dinner.” You say.

He nods slowly and kisses you softly. “Okay.” He whispers.

You both finish getting ready and head to the tower. You call a car service because you are absolutely not getting back on that motorcycle of Steve’s.

You get in the elevator of the tower and type in a code.

“Good evening Miss Clarke, Captain Rogers.” JARVIS says over the speakers.

“Hi Jarvis.” You say.

The elevator stops at the penthouse floor and opens to let you and Steve out.

“Olive?” Tony calls from the kitchen.

“Hi dad.” You call back. You take Steve’s hand and tug him along to the kitchen.

“Cap.” Tony greets, raising his drink.

“Tony.” Steve says back.

“Reconstruction is going well.” You say.

Tony nods. “Yeah, it’s gonna all look really nice once everything is finished.”

You walk over to the fridge and open it, taking out everything you’ll need for dinner.

Steve and Tony sit at the bar and chat while you cook. Pepper joins them eventually, and so does Bruce.

You walk over to Pepper and hug her.

“Your father is losing his mind.” She chuckles. “You having a boyfriend may do him in.”

You chuckle and roll your eyes. “I’ve had boyfriends before.” You say.

She nods. “You’ve just never brought them home.” She says.

You hum softly and look over at Steve. “Well, he’s special.” You say with a soft blush on your cheeks.

“Must be if you’re subjecting him to this.” She says.

You put dinner in the oven and walk over to your two favourite men. You wrap your arms around Steve’s shoulders and kiss his cheek. “You boys playing nice?” You ask softly.

“Of course we are, Praline.” Tony says. “I’m quite fond of your boyfriend.” He says.

You smile and kiss Steve’s cheek again when he turns red.

Dinner goes well. Steve is very impressed at your ability to throw together an actual meal. Pepper has to leave pretty soon after, she’s quite busy running a business.

You sit around in the living room, Tony walks up to you.

“Peanut, there are something things we need to talk about. Regarding your mom.” He says gently. You swallow thickly and look at him.

“Why?” You say quietly.

“Because…there were apparently things going on that I wasn’t aware of. Things that…need to be explored a bit more.” He says.

Steve frowns and sits up putting an arm around you.”What are you talking about Tony?” He says.

He sighs. “Olive…I think your mom was experimenting on you. And we need to test you for enhancements.” He says.

Steve’s arm tightens a bit around you.

You just stare at your father.

Next

Taglist

@winchestergirl907 @samros95 @booknerd-and-fangirl @boxofteenageideas @sunnyshoes @yougottalovefandoms @peregrinestook @tealeaves-and-witchythings @beckastark @clockblobber @nenabeg111 @the-fangirl-sent-by-cyberlife @shadowsndaisies @spideysbl0g @musicals-n-chill @appreciating-chase-brody @dreambutdontsleepx @give-me-fluff @moli1497 @meghanannexx

[starryviolentine]

Brody’s Diary (Revised Edition): Chapter 2

Part one of the “Pre-Apocalypse Adventures” Series

Chapter 1 ( here )

Therissa is one of the Ericson kids mentioned by Willy in the game as one of the students who died sometime during apocalypse. I normally don’t write fanfics using characters who don’t have a canon appearance and personality already, but for this story I needed a third roommate/older sibling figure for Violet and Brody. Before I knew it, I had come up with this headcanon of Therissa…and I’ve kind of fallen in love with her character. (She was kind of inspired by Xanthippe from Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt if you’ve seen that show!)

Violet must have dozed off because the next thing she knows is she’s being shaken awake. It takes a moment for the sleepy static in her brain to wear off, but once the fuzziness fades she notices that the bedroom is a little darker than she remembers. How long was she asleep?

“Rise and shine, loser. You’re gonna miss dinner.”

The voice belongs to Violet and Brody’s seventeen-year-old roommate, Therissa. Therissa is sarcastic, indifferent, and possesses a rather dark sense of humor. Over the past few months of living together, Violet has grown accustomed to the teenager’s tendency to be a little mean. She’s not sure why, exactly, Therissa was sent to Ericson’s, but she has a feeling that it might have something to do with her attitude.

Normally, Violet doesn’t care about the names Therissa calls her and Brody, but tonight it strikes her in a sore spot. She rolls over until she’s facing the wall and closes her eyes again, hoping that Therissa will leave her alone. She’s really in no mood to talk to anybody. 

“Hey, you haven’t caught that stomach thing that’s been going around, have you?” Therissa notices her roomie’s lack of response and wonders if there’s something wrong. “Justin told me that two kids were puking their guts out in the boys’ dorm this morning. Totally disgusting.”

The younger girl still hasn’t said a word or even acknowledged her presence, so Therissa comes a little closer to Violet’s bunk to check on her. As the oldest, she feels a teensy bit of responsibility to make sure her younger roommates are still breathing, at the very least. “If you’re gonna hurl, don’t do it in here.”

“I’m not sick.”

“Oh, good. You’re not dead,” Therissa says flatly. “Get up. Go eat.”

Violet scowls at the wall. “I’m not hungry.”

So there is something wrong. Therissa had a feeling that something was off, but now she’s pretty certain that her youngest roommate is upset. “What’s eating you?”

Tired of all the poking and prodding, Violet’s temper goes off again. “I’m just not hungry, okay? Leave me alone!”

“Seriously?” The teenager rolls her eyes and heaves an exasperated sigh. “Okay, if that’s how you’re gonna be...”

For a brief moment, Violet thinks that she’s won and that Therissa’s going to leave her alone. To her horror, she couldn’t have been more wrong. Instead, Therissa slips out of her boots and hoists herself up into the little blonde’s bunk.

“Move over.”

There’s a short pause while Violet considers her next move. It’s not too late to fight Therissa on this. But Violet’s tired, and she’s got no spark left in her to keep up her tough front. She sluggishly scoots closer to the wall to make room for the older girl.

Therissa makes herself comfortable in the space next to Violet. “So, what’s up with you?”

Violet doesn’t answer.

“Come on, Violet,” the teen tries again. There’s no way for Therissa to see the kind of expression Violet’s making with her facing the other way, so she has to make do with speaking to the back of the younger girl’s head. “This amount of sulking isn’t normal, even for you. I know something’s wrong.”

Violet’s ears perk up. She can’t tell if she’s imagining it, but her roommate’s voice suddenly sounds gentler than usual. It’s really strange.

“You wanna tell me about it?”

This is the first time Therissa has shown any concern for Violet’s feelings. The younger girl isn’t sure how to respond. Deep, deep down there’s a part of her that longs to turn to Therissa for comfort. There’s a voice inside her head giving her the okay to open up to the teen, but it’s currently being drowned out by a louder, overbearing warning alarm sounding No! No! No!. In her current emotional state, Violet knows that if she does try to talk about what happened, she would probably start crying like a baby and might not be able to stop. And that would be a complete nightmare.

“No? Okay.” Therissa stretches out so that she’s lying comfortably on her back with her arms behind her head. “You won’t mind if I just stay here for the rest of the night, then?”

“Don’t,” Violet mumbles quietly. “Just go.”

“How could I possibly have an appetite when my favorite little blonde brat is all sad and lonely and won’t even tell me what’s wrong?” Therissa’s teasing is familiar and oddly comforting. Her persistence cracks away at Violet’s protective shell and the younger girl can feel her guard slipping. “Let me guess. You got detention for sleeping during class again?”

As a matter of fact, Violet hasn’t fallen asleep in class for a good couple of weeks. She shakes her head.

“Boy trouble?”

Violet scrunches up her nose and makes a face even though Therissa can’t see it. “No, gross!”

The teenager laughs. “What else...?” After a pause, she suddenly gasps and feigns horror. “Don’t tell me… the dining hall stopped serving chicken nuggets?”

A tiny smile tugs on the corners of Violet’s mouth. “Stop.”

“I’ll leave you alone as soon as you tell me what’s wrong,” Therissa says, adjusting her position again so that she’s back to sitting upright. Her tone also changes to reflect her posture, becoming lower and more serious.

At this point, Violet knows that the teen isn’t going to give up. She pulls the covers over her head and groans. “Fine,” she mutters, voice muffled by her blanket, “I’ll tell you.”

“Sorry, I can’t really hear you with that blanket over your face,” Therissa exaggerates. “Maybe if you turned around so we could have a conversation like actual human beings—”

“Okay, okay! God!” Violet surrenders. She wiggles under the covers until her head pokes out, then pushes herself into a sitting position and finally faces her roommate. “Happy?”

Even though Violet’s looking in Therissa’s direction, she won’t look her in the eyes. Still, it’s a start. “Whenever you’re ready.”

It takes Violet a while before she musters enough courage to talk. Therissa is patient and allows the girl to take as much time as she needs. She can tell that whatever happened is really bugging her. Rather than risk the possibility of making Violet change her mind and close up again by saying anything else, Therissa waits until she’s ready to talk.

Violet, who hates talking about her feelings and avoids it whenever possible, can’t believe what she’s gotten herself into. Nevertheless, she prepares a single sentence. It’s short, sweet, and gets right to the point. Closing her eyes, she rehearses it in her head several times, in a nonchalant voice, until she’s confident that that’s exactly how it’s going to sound coming out of her mouth. Once satisfied, she gives herself a last-minute mental pep talk. That no matter what, she’s not going to start crying and make herself look stupid. 

I will not cry in front of Therissa. I will not cry in front of Therissa. I will not cry in front of Therissa. Violet inhales deeply and opens her eyes. It’s now or never.

“Brody—” The eleven-year-old doesn’t even get one word out before her voice betrays her and falters. The moment the name comes out of her mouth, her friend’s angry face comes into her mind and she feels it again. That same heavy, sinking feeling in her stomach and the tightening in her chest from earlier that day. Her eyes sting with tears and her throat feels like it’s constricting. Violet makes a fatal mistake. She glances up and catches Therissa’s unusually soft and understanding gaze.

It’s all over. The dam has broken and Violet’s no longer in control of her own body. Her shoulders tremble and shudder and she chokes out her words. “B-Brody’s mad at me…”

At first, the teenager is taken aback at how instantly her roommate breaks into tears. The longer she thinks about it, though, the more she realizes that it’s not so surprising after all. When Violet first arrived at Ericson’s, she didn’t utter a single word for weeks. As far as Therissa knows, the first person Violet ever willingly talked to was Brody. Even from the very beginning, not once was Brody put off by Violet’s antisocial front, nor did she ever get too discouraged by their one-sided conversations. She still talked to Violet every day and made sure she had someone to sit with during meals. 

And then, slowly but surely, Violet began to bloom. 

A slight change here, a tiny change there. Over the course of a few weeks, Violet went from not even acknowledging Brody at all to lifting her head and looking over when she heard Brody call her name. To gradually being able to make eye contact. To eventually answering her questions with a nod, shrug, or shake of her head. Before long, Violet became even more expressive, now reacting to Brody’s stories with a multitude of facial expressions or, if Brody said something particularly funny, even little bouts of laughter. 

From then on, the two girls only grew closer and closer, and Therissa was secretly glad that Brody now had a roommate her own age to pester. Occasionally, after lights-out, Brody would climb into Violet’s bunk with her portable DVD player and they would stay up late watching one of the auburn-haired girl’s cheesy tween movies, stifling giggles as they huddled close together under the covers.

Of course, Therissa would get mad and yell at them to “Shut up and go to sleep!”

Violet and Brody go to breakfast, lunch and dinner together. Therissa suspects that they spend every waking hour outside of class together, too. Skinny little Violet with her toothpick legs even joined Ericson’s Outdoor Adventure Club because Brody wanted her to come with her on their nature hikes and camping trips. Up until now, Therissa has never seen one half of the duo without the other somewhere nearby.

As much as Violet likes to act tough and hide her emotions, Therissa knows that she cares about Brody a lot and that she’s completely soft when it comes to her friend. Watching Violet crumble simply because she and Brody had a silly fight earlier is enough indication that tonight is going to suck, especially if their dorm room turns into a warzone. The teenager would much rather be as uninvolved with this tween drama as possible, but right now her roommate looks like she could really use somebody there with her. Contrary to popular belief, Therissa isn’t completely heartless, so she stays and waits for Violet to tell her the whole story.

[theresnoturningback]

All There Is To It [MARODY]

Summary: One week after trading the twins for safety, Marlon and Brody have a conversation about it.

A/N: My love for this ship is complicated to say the least. We all know it’s an unhealthy relationship, toxic even. However, the circumstances they’re both in make it super interesting to think about, to discuss and theorize. I love Marlon and Brody separatedly, regardless of the mistakes they made, and I can’t say I don’t love their twisted relationship (although it was never canonically stated, but come on...it’s clear as water) and I thought it would be fun to write about how their mutual sense of dependance probably began to exist.

I hope you like this short drabble. Like always, likes, reblogs and above all, comments will be much appreciated!

Word Count: 1070

Brody walked in Marlon’s office. Inside, The boy was chatting with his best friend. She didn’t say a thing. When Louis noticed her broken-down presence at the door frame, he waved at her cheerfully, like he always did.

‘Hey Brody, how are you holding up?’ He asked sympathetically.

 As dark as the times were, Louis would always try his best to cheer up his friends. She gave him a sad half smile as a greeting.

‘Been better, to be honest’ She managed to say, despite the lump in her throat ‘Can I steal Marlon for a couple of minutes?’

At the sound of his name, Marlon looked at Louis and nodded.

‘Sure, sure…’ Louis stood up and walked away, closing the door behind him.

Once he was gone, Brody glanced at Marlon and sighed. Somehow, her legs didn’t respond. She was unable  to take another step closer.

Marlon frowned, unsure if he should do or say something to break the silence.

‘If you’re here to tell me again how much you hate me for-’

The girl shook her head and shushed him. She was tired of arguing.

‘This is not...this is not about the twins…’ She explained in a soft voice ‘It’s about me...and I, uh...well, I can’t talk about it with anyone else...not unless I tell them the whole story’

Brody’s anxiety spread fast into Marlon’s mind.

‘Brody, what did you do?’ In two seconds, he was in front of her, holding her arms in a tight grip ‘You promised me you wouldn’t do that. You promised me, remember?’

She felt small and powerless as he shook her. Afraid of even speaking, she let her tears roll down her cheeks.

As soon as he saw her cry, he softened the grip on her arms and stood before her as she tried to muffle her sobbing with her hands.

‘I haven’t told anyone’ She clarified between sniffles ‘That’s why I’m here’

As soon as the realization hit him, he felt like the most evil human being out of all that remained on Earth.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Brody, I didn’t mean to, I-’

His apologetic words were useless in front of the crying girl.

‘I’m scared, I’m so scared of the day everyone finds out about what we did’

‘About what I did’ Marlon corrected her, as he dried her tears ‘You didn’t do anything’

‘Exactly’ She said looking up at him with brows knitted ‘I’m just as guilty as you are, because I didn’t have the courage to stop what was happening’

‘You would have been shot’

‘Is that even worse than what the twins are probably going through right now?’

‘I don’t- we don’t know that…’ Marlon stuttered ‘You know how that woman told us they would be fine’

‘And you believe her?’

The boy shrugged.

‘It’s better than believing they are already dead’

‘I should have been shot right there, so you would have the opportunity to run away with them’

‘How can you say that?’

‘Because it would have been better that way…’ She sat on the couch and covered her face with her palms

‘Brody, you don’t know what you’re saying’

‘Fuck, Marlon, open your eyes! Look what we’re dealing right now! We lost two of our best people! Tenn hasn’t come out of his room since he heard the news, Violet won’t talk to anybody but Louis and the rest of us are a crying mess. We haven’t hunted in days and the food is running out. We signed our death sentence back in the forest. Who knows how long we’re going to last if we continue like this…and it’s been only a week!’

He sat down next to her and took her hand

‘We’ll be alright’ He said, unconvinced of his own promise.

She looked at him with fresh tears in her eyes

‘You don’t know that. Those people could come back, I don’t want to run into them ever again’

‘They don’t know exactly where we are. We are safe as long as we don’t hunt that far again.’ He paused for a moment ‘We’ll have to design some kind of “safe zone” and tell the others it’s because of the walkers’

Suddenly, Marlon’s words didn’t seem so idiotic. She bit her lower lip as she went through his plan over and over again, looking for possible flaws. He studied her focused expression, trying to figure out her thoughts.

Reaching to a silent conclusion that Marlon never knew of, she let go of his hands and pressed herself close to his chest. He was the closest thing to a comforting soul she could have.

They were in this mess together. She hated him for his cowardice, and she hated herself for being a passive witness of such weak leadership. That was life, but it was better than facing all of that alone.

‘Marlon’ She finally looked up at him again, the remains of her tears made her big sad eyes shimmer ‘You better keep us safe...so giving up the twins wasn’t all for nothing’

He felt a rush from the pit of his stomach to the back of his head, that could have been originated either by the horrible guilt that was eating him up inside, or Brody’s twinkling gaze and her hopeless plea.

The fact that she still seemed to trust him after all that he had done was enough for him to lean closer to kiss her.

Brody met his lips with a soft gasp and she leaned back quickly, frightened of the sudden advance.

She looked at his embarrassed gaze shifting to the side while her brain echoed the same words she’d been thinking for the last days.

‘This is all there is to it. Nobody else can listen to you. Nobody else will cry with you. Nobody else can understand exactly what hell you’re living. Only him’

Hesitant at first, she let out a dubious sigh and closed the distance between them. Once their mouths touched, she felt a faint shiver creeping up her spine. At first, she wanted to pull back out of sheer confusion, but as soon as he kissed her back, she realized it was better than she expected.

He enfolded her figure in his arms.

‘I’ll protect you...all of you’ He mumbled, hoping she couldn’t feel the insecurity in his words ‘Or I’ll die trying’

[poppyknitt]

Endless Time Loop- A Corrupted! Chase and Amnesiac! Marvin Fanfiction

“... You forgot me, Marv... Forgot everything...” Chase radiated a corrupt, dark energy, as he loomed before the magician, his head cast downwards. Marvin was frozen in place, rendered speechless by the vlogger’s words. What... What had become of the younger ego? Why was he acting so... weird?

“Did you ever even care in the first place?” Chase’s flat tone almost sounded a bit sour for a moment there.

“I-I-... I do-! I... I...did..! I-I, I jus-!”

“Just what?! Got too full of yourself to listen? To care? To understand the gravity of the consequences of what you did?! You don’t even understand how much it hurts to know you threw away everything just to stop him, do you?!” Chase spat, raising his head as his tone twisted and turned cruel. Marvin’s eyes were wide, feeling more confused and lost than he did almost a year prior, when he woke up from the aftermath of... Whatever spell it was that he casted to save everyone by bringing them to the pocket dimension they lived in now.

“N-No! I-! Chase, please, listen to yourself..! Y-You’re not in the right mind right now!” He begged, unable to discern his emotions from one another.

“I’m not in the right mind? I’m not in the right fucking mind?!” Chase snapped, looking pissed as all hell, “You have a lot of fucking nerve if you’re gonna pull that one on me, Mr. I’m-So-Fucking-Full-Of-Myself-I-Accidentally-Wiped-Most-Of-My-Memories-Twice!”

“I didn’t mean to! I-I just..! I wanted to save you! To- To keep you from harm! I-I- I didn’t want any of this!” His breathing was destabilizing by the minute, as he desperately argued with Chase’s delusional nonsense.

“Enough! Stop lying to me! Don’t think I can’t see it in your eyes!” Something changed in Chase’s eyes, and he sensed the negative aura growing darker, hell, more violent.

“Chase, please, j-just listen to yourself! Y-You-! This isn’t you! ... Please, Chase... I-I don’t want to fight with you!” It was like his entire body was being torn apart, atom by atom, by this new “persona” of his brother’s. He hated this. He- He just wanted his brother- the smiling, happy, laughing Chase Brody he knew and loved- back! Why... Why did he have to..?

Chase ignored his desperate attempts to reach the real Chase, the one he knew was still in there somewhere, “You think you’re so damn smart, don’t you?! Always blabbing on and on about magic or whatever damned bullshit it is! Well, congratulations, because I’m finally fucking sick of it! Matter of fact, I’m sick of you!”

He tried to say something, but nothing came out.

“Why don’t you just fucking kill yourself already? Are you scared? Or are you really just as full of yourself as you act?!” Chase paused for a minute, and smirked, a much darker, crazier look slowly creeping onto his face. He felt his heart stop, as every instinct in his body and his brain screamed desperately for him to run before Chase snapped.

But he didn’t.

He still desperately believed Chase could be redeemed; that his brother was still there.

In the end, he regretted staying, as the next thing he knew, Chase took out a knife, grinning like a madman. The magician could see the corrupted hatred glimmering in his brother’s eyes, and he yelled for Chase to stop, but he was too late. Chase was practically on top of him in the blink of an eye, and the blinding pain of a knife forcing itself into his abdomen and tearing through it sent him stumbling back, only to collapse as he almost drunkenly attempted to regain his balance.

He coughed weakly, his body trembling with effort and pain, as he barely managed to lift himself higher than half a foot from the ground with just one hand. His other one clung desperately to the repulsively deep gash that stretched from his hip to right next to where his heart probably was, having missed the vital organ by a hair. Thankfully, its deepest part was at the beginning, so even if Chase hadn’t missed, the knife wouldn’t have gotten deep enough to even nick his heart.

Still, though, it took everything he had to desperately try to keep his insides from slowly falling out or something, and even more to keep himself suspended. Hot tears slowly started falling from his eyes as he choked on the blood rising in his throat.

Is... Is this the end..? I... I don’t want to die... Why... Why did Chase..? His thoughts came and go in a dizzy, blurry mess, each new train of thought spiraling out of control and crashing hard into another one as soon as it began. He knew Chase was standing over him with that crazed look of his in his eyes, holding that knife tightly, ready to strike again. But he didn’t really care. Not anymore. All- All he cared about was surviving this-

...

A hand rested on his shoulder, with an almost sickeningly gentle touch to it, and he slowly looked up to see Chase crouched down in front of him, a cruelly kind smirk plastered on his face.

The pain stopped.

He... How..? How... did he..?

“I’m glad we had this little chat, Magician...” The vlogger cooed, and Marvin felt his heart drop at the use of the very nickname that only Anti used for him. Everything seemed to freeze, as his long-time best friend and brother briefly glitched a greener color, “After all... I’ve finally found my f́u҉l̶l͢ p͏ote̷ntial.̵.. And it’s all thanks to y̷o̷u͟...”

He slumped to the ground in defeat, his energy starting to drain after having lost so much blood, and his voice barely a whisper, “n...no...ch...ase... do...n’...”

“Chase, huh? Do you really, honestly think I’m still that man anymore, Marv?” His voice dripped with a bitter, mocking, fake sympathy, as Marvin felt something change in his world, but couldn’t place it through the disorientatingly strong spinning of his head, “I think, once you see what I’ve become, you won’t want to call me that name anymore...”

After that last statement, Marvin stopped hearing anything that might’ve been said, as everything slowly faded to static, and one final thought barely managed to enter his mind.

Don̛’t ͢y҉ou see, litţl̸e ̴pu̶ppet̶?̕ ̧I͟’͢ve àl͜read͠y̧ w͘on...҉

An͜d, ̀as͞ ̕f͜o͟r yoú..͠. Wel̡l͝, it͞’s ̴Ģa̡m̨e O҉veŕ n̶ów̴...

——————————————————

Hey, look, guys! I made a Super Angst™️ for WorldView! It’s not canon, but it exists! And you can blame everyone on that cursed writing discord for planting corrupted chase bullshit in my mind-

@antis-loyal-puppet @tiny-septic-puppet @rorald-spooks @septic-dr-schneep @ihaveanunhealthyteaaddiction @insaneangel18-blog i’m sorry everyone, but i had to, there was no other way to get the angsty inspiration away. wait, no, actually it might still be there. fuck-

[hellyeahomeland]

Me again with more Carrie and Saul. can you elaborate on how it’s different between them? You say it’s evolved but I don’t see how. Things have happened to Carrie especially, but I don’t really see how their relationship has changed at its core. Maybe Saul treats her more like an adult but even that’s debatable imo. I don’t mean to be argumentative for argument’s sake but... (continued...)

Cont… can you give concrete examples of how the development has played out on screen so I can understand it & hopefully S8 better. Specific scenes and what how they weren’t just individual scenes but changed the relationship going forward. Much appreciated! Oh and one more thing re: Saul and Carrie, sorry I forgot. Can you also venture a guess what it means in practice? What do you think will happen between them that will feel like closure or catharsis or something that’s expected of a show’s final season and perhaps finale as well?

Note #1: this became a lot longer than I expected (sorry, you asked!). Beyond what I’ve written, I challenge you to go back and watch these individual scenes. I’ve chosen ones from each season to illustrate the full arc of their relationship. Observe the differences in Claire and Mandy’s body language, in their facial expressions, in their discomfort, in the shared trauma of what’s come before. It’s deliberate writing and deliberate acting. Shorter version of this post is here, from April 2018.

Note #2: I chose almost exclusively scenes of conflict to represent the evolution of their relationship because I believe that conflict drives change. 

PROLOGUE:

To understand the Carrie and Saul relationship, we’ve got to understand what their relationship was before we met them. From what we know, Saul recruited Carrie, straight out of college. He saw in her something special and unique, something that didn’t come around every other day. She was gifted but she was also alone. She had no partner. She was socially isolated from her family and from the world (he didn’t yet know of her mental illness). This was an advantage of sorts. It meant she could give herself more and more to the work, same as he did. Remember this is his Achilles’ heel: whenever they call, he picks up. He doesn’t know how not to. It destroyed his marriage. But he molds her in his image. He teaches her, he raises her, the way a father would his daughter. He brings her up. Their relationship melds the boundaries of teacher/student, boss/employee, mentor/mentee, and father/daughter. It’s personal, and it’s deeply intimate. 

This is what we are given before the pilot and it’s what we’ve grappled with for nearly eight years: his attempts to harness her gifts–often to her detriment–and her simultaneous resentment of him for it and unwavering yearning for his approval. 

Key Scenes in the Carrie and Saul Canon:

#1: “What happened to the Saul Berenson that trekked the Karakoram?”: Much of the season one conflict between Carrie and Saul comes from her three thousand miles an hour suspicion of Brody and him being like “whoa slow down pls.” He is the first person she tells of these suspicions and he essentially shoots her down, causing her to go rogue. It’s here where the lines become blurred between boss/protege and father/daughter, because the way in which he chastises and punishes her feels awfully familial. 

So when Carrie finally reaches a breaking point in “Blind Spot” (the original Carrie Mathison Appreciation Episode), we feel that as though a family is breaking up. It doesn’t matter that she comes crawling back to him, just an episode later, remorseful. 

Carrie underlines just how much Saul has changed: in her words, from the man who “did three months in a Malaysian prison” (HELLO???? repeat: he raised her in his image) to a pussy. We understand that Carrie and Saul are both outsiders in the CIA. We understand that Saul is still grappling with his former employee David Estes bring promoted over him. While Carrie truly seems to not give a fuck, Saul keeps in line. He says “yes, sir.” He advises caution. None of these are inherently bad qualities but in this scene we come to understand that what drew Carrie to Saul was not his caution, his yin to her yang, but his daring and bravery and “FUCK THE CIA” mentality (there’s a reason why that line is in this episode too). 

#2: “You don’t know a goddamned thing”: This scene is now famous for lines like “you’re the smartest and dumbest fucking person I’ve ever known” (he’s not wrong) but this scene is actually one of the more important ones ever on this show, and I still maintain that t“The Choice” is the mos important ever Homeland episode. As to why this scene itself is significant in their relationship, I’ll allow Jacob Clifton to explain:

Saul is one thing only, and his love for Carrie comes out of the idea that they are the same. And he’s right. But because she’s giving up herself to something he can’t, it looks like they are not the same. It looks ugly to him. He fights it like an addict fights recovery, striking blindly at her softest places because can’t stand the change in vector: Her madness is only acceptable as long as it’s useful; her self-abnegation is only positive so long as he can understand it.

I bolded that last sentence because it’s almost shockingly predictive of future seasons. We can hem and haw all we want about Saul’s relative rightness about Carrie leaving the CIA for Brody being a terrible decision, but the truth is that he would have done it regardless of who Brody was. He would have done it if she’d left with Quinn, with Jonas, with Otto, with Estes, with anyone, or all by herself. I don’t actually believe that Saul wants Carrie to be miserable. I just think he doesn’t care. I think he sees her gifts, her “saving the world” (to be totally Mandy Patinkin about it) as a more profound and upright calling than, for example: having a family, being a mother, having an integrated and whole personal life… the list goes on. 

But the moment when Carrie tells him she doesn’t want to end up alone her whole life, like him, is probably the first great fissure in what was until then a generally even relationship. It establishes her desire for… something beyond everything he’d ever shown her (she literally turns down the greatest career opportunity ever for THE DUDE IN THE SUICIDE VEST… and like, did we ever consider that wasn’t really about Carrie loving Brody so much but more about how much she really didn’t fucking want to be Saul????). She threatens his control and he strikes her at the knees. 

#3: Literally all of season three: It’s difficult to choose a single scene in season three to encapsulate just how much Carrie and Saul’s relationship this season was changed but let’s just discuss the overall arc:

Saul and Carrie come up with a plan to lure out Javadi (i.e., Iran) since they know he’s partially responsible for the Langley bombing. In their shared plan, Carrie will pretend to be crazy in front of the Senate and the press so that she seems vulnerable to the influence of a foreign power. Coolness. 

Except Saul changes the plan in the middle and: 

Publicly blames the Langley bombing on Carrie

Outs Carrie’s sexual relationship with Brody on national television 

Has Carrie committed to a mental institution for four weeks with little to no contact with the outside world

Sics Dar fucking Adal on her when she gets out of the mental institution in order to maintain the cover

The scene at the end of “Game On” where Carrie comes to Saul’s house and tells him the plan has worked is devastating to watch. I don’t think it was entirely clear at the time just how much Saul’s plan had strayed from their shared vision until Carrie tells him, through tears, “you should have gotten me out of there, Saul. You shouldn’t have left me in there.” He doesn’t say anything in response. When she tells him it’s too hard, she can’t keep going, he offers her some tea. It would be funny if it weren’t so fucking sad. 

Again: 

Her madness is only acceptable as long as it’s useful; her self-abnegation is only positive so long as he can understand it.

Season three was all about that: about the lengths Saul would go with Carrie’s own illness, and how far along she’d left herself go too. Javadi literally makes a speech about it.

Now, Carrie wasn’t forced to do any of this (well, except the mental institution, that was extremely forced). We see at times how desperately she craves his attention and approval: in “Tower of David,” when she pleads with her therapist to give a good report back to Saul; in “The Yoga Play,” where he berates her for getting involved in Brody Family Drama and tells her she’s ruined everything and ARE YOU HAPPY ABOUT THAT NOW CARRIE (god, the father/daughter vibes in that one are nauseating); in “Still Positive” when she calls him, triumphant, after having arranged the meeting with Javadi and he’s like “oh yeah by the way we lost you for a few hours there.” 

(This doesn’t fit into the above theme but the scene at the end of “One Last Thing” when Carrie tells him in order for any of this shit to work they have to trust each other is one of the most interesting and important scenes of the whole season, simply because it implies one easy truth: they don’t trust each other. And what a change that is from earlier seasons.) 

And yet, he needed her for it all to work. Saul may have been the mastermind of the entire clusterfuck of season three (better on rewatch than you would think!), but without Carrie literally every step of the way, it would have gone up in flames. She lured Javadi to America with her 95%-based-in-reality mania. She convinced Brody to go to Iran knowing it would almost certainly end in his death. And then she went straight along to Tehran knowing she’d probably have to witness it all. 

The end of season three is super interesting in their relationship because I believe in my gut and in my soul that Carrie still resents Saul for convincing her to convince Brody to go kill himself. I really believe this. Again, she wasn’t forced. She did this of her own volition. But he planted the seed in her head, and I think some part of Carrie–likely equal parts rational and irrational–blames him for it, even as she mostly blames herself. 

I won’t even mention Saul’s complete un-acknowledgement of Carrie being nine months pregnant in the last half of “The Star” but Saul basically ignoring Carrie’s child for four years is more significant than we give it credit for.

#4: “Escape or die. I promise.” The season four relationship between Carrie and Saul is interesting because it upends their previous dynamic. Carrie and Saul were always outsiders in the agency, but now he’s actually on the outside and she’s ascended, more an insider than ever. Also, I know part of it was grief, and again this is not an absolution, but where else do we think Carrie learned her casual disregard for human life? I’m just saying, season four came after season three. 

So anyway, when Carrie promises to Saul that he’ll kill him before letting him be re-captured by the Taliban, we almost sort of believe her. She nearly killed him once before (wanna know the quickest way to get me from 0 to 1500 words on this show? mention the end of “From A to B and Back Again.” but actually don’t please).

The middle episodes of season four–Carrie nearly killing Saul, reneging on her promise to kill him, and then tearfully saving him from himself–are extremely moving. And they cement the arc of that entire season, of Carrie ascending where Saul had fallen. “The student becomes the master” (or the Drone Queen, rather) and all that jazz. Her journey to save her soul coincided with her journey to save him. Is that coincidental? Saul stopped being Carrie’s moral compass around the time he lied to her and had her committed. But just as Carrie is finding her way amid the chaos and fog of war, Saul is making backdoor deals with Dar fucking Adal to turn a blind eye to Haqqani’s reign of terror so that he could go and be the CIA director again. 

Saul preached idealism and goodness and morality in an increasingly terrorized, dangerous, chaotic world. He raised her in that image. She strayed, but was finding her way back to it. In those final moments of season four, that betrayal is complete. She detaches from him. And their relationship is forever altered. 

#5: “There’s a line between us that you drew. Forget that. There’s a fucking wall.” Oh, season five. This is getting really long so I’ll try to be succinct: Carrie and Saul’s relationship in season five is about her being in mortal danger and him being like “lol good luck….. NOT.” Ok, it’s only like that for an episode. 

How do they come back from the damage done at the end of season four? I think the answer is that they didn’t. They’re not healed from it. Parts of Carrie don’t trust Saul, and parts of Saul don’t trust Carrie. There are the surface elements of course: Carrie went and found a cool life in Berlin, riding bikes and wearing balloon hats and such, working for a man whose ideals often stood in direct counter to the CIA’s. In effect, she basically went and did the opposite of everything Saul had ever done. That this all comes in a time of real upheaval in Saul’s personal life (Mira divorced him, he’s literally fucking a Russian mole) only makes his ego more volatile. 

And then we have The Landstuhl Conundrum. I’m calling it this because it doesn’t yet have a name but I’m referring to the moment when the doctors say that they can’t wake Quinn from a coma, because if they do he will probably die or have irreversible brain damage. But Carrie and Saul believe he has valuable information about a terror cell that he’d eagerly share after coming out of said coma. Honestly!!! This show is extremely ridiculous sometimes. 

Anyway Saul is like “what would you want me to do if it were you lying there,” implying DUH she’d have him wake her. She says she can’t speak for Quinn. Well apparently she can, because she wakes him. Cue the irreversible brain damage, the almost-death. 

Later Saul comes to see her and Quinn at the hospital and asks how he is. “Not great,” she replies tersely. He tells her he didn’t come here to fight with her. 

Resentment City: Population of 1. I’ve actually beat this drum for a few years, but I still think that Carrie harbors resentment toward Saul for coercing her into waking Quinn. First Brody, then Quinn. This isn’t meant to absolve Carrie of blame. She convinced Brody to go to Tehran because she believed in that mission. She woke Quinn because she believed in that mission. But I do think that Saul gave her a nudge and I’m not 100% convinced that without his influence she’d have made the same choices. When we talk about Saul teaching Carrie, about him mentoring her… and then we talk about Carrie having no regard for human life, of choosing mission over man, time after time… how much of that is her nature and how much is him nurturing her toward that outcome? 

#6: “Maybe I don’t like the idea of you worrying about me.” Season six is spectacularly dull on many fronts, and the Carrie/Saul relationship is not the centerpiece. The evolution of their relationship after Berlin has taken the shape of something like season three. Saul needs Carrie’s help, she’s in no position to give it, he coaxes her with some terrifying outcome If She Won’t, then she agrees, and things still Turn Out Shitty For Her. 

Ultimately I think this season highlights that whatever difficulties they now have working with each other, whatever trust issues they both still harbor, at the end of the day it is ALWAYS Carrie and Saul Versus the World. That’s always what this story has been (though this is extremely different from their relationship being the same as it’s always been), and it’s what the show comes back to after Quinn’s death. 

He still cares about her. She tells him not to, he’s not her fucking father. This is one of the great complexities of their relationship: Saul often does coddle her the way a father would a daughter, but he’s a firm believer in tough love and all the forms that can take. 

Again, I don’t think that Saul wants Carrie to be miserable. I also don’t think he wants her to happy. Her personal fulfillment and well-being is just entirely secondary to her role in his own mission of Whatever The Fuck. I mean I guess his mission is for the world to be more peaceful and better but like… y’know how Thanos thinks that killing half the universe’s population will help with the suffering caused by overpopulation? I’m not saying Saul is Thanos. But they’re both deranged males! (Also, if y’all don’t think Saul would Gamora Carrie right up outta this dimension if it meant fulfilling his life’s mission then please let me sell you this Homeland lamp!) (But honestly, I’m not saying Saul is as bad as Thanos.) (Do not send in asks about this.)

#7: “You’ve given me a hard time these last few years.” Season seven takes the post-Berlin foundation that season six built and adds some new interesting layers that are like a weird inversion/combo of seasons four and five. Carrie’s more on the outside than she’s ever been and now Saul’s the one who’s gone to work for the enemy. 

Still, no matter whatever shit has gone down between them, it’s still Carrie and Saul Versus the World. The show highlights some key ideas in the last three episodes. First, it fully acknowledges that whenever Saul comes calling, Carrie will always answer. Remember how he said this was his Achilles’ heel? Remember how in that same episode Carrie said she was going to be alone her whole life? Remember how Saul raised Carrie in his image? These callbacks are not evidence of stagnation of their relationship; they’re references to its elemental core. 

Second, the show finally has Carrie acknowledge the… um… storm of shit Saul has put her through while also fully copping to the extreme codependence of their entire relationship:

I’ve not come all this way in that fucking plane and in my life to fail in that mission when I know I can succeed. You’ve given me a hard time the past few years. I’m in, I’m out, I’m all over the place. I am not all over the place now. I’m here and I’m all in, and I need you to say yes. 

She pledges her devotion to the mission (above all else). She acknowledges Saul’s hot-and-cold nature with her. And then she says SHE STILL NEEDS HIS APPROVAL because–say it with me–they are in an extremely! toxic! relationship!

In a nutshell, the evolution of the discord in Carrie and Saul’s relationship started with him putting her life at risk in service of the mission. And now we’re at a point where she fully fucking volunteers for the task! In my heart of hearts I think a non-zero part of Carrie is doing it so he will love her more. Did I mention they are in a codependent relationship? 

So where do we go from here?

If you are still reading, congratulations! That’ll teach you to ask me a question about Carrie and Saul! Actually, about five questions were asked. The last–what will happen in season eight that will feel at all like a catharsis–is not one that I’ve actually thought that much about. 

I think I’ve made a case for Carrie and Saul’s relationship being the soul of this show–its mangled, twisted soul. The truth is their relationship is toxic. They are both their best and worst selves with each other. Like family, they know what buttons to push, and where to strike to make it hurt the most. 

What catharsis looks like in this relationship depends a lot on how you see this relationship. For example, it would be cathartic for me for Saul to die, but that will almost certainly not happen. It would be cathartic for Carrie to strike out on her own–finally–and attempt some type of fulfillment. Also very unlikely. 

If I had to guess about what the end of this story will look like for them, it’s probably with Carrie dead. Probably on a mission Saul convinced her to believe in. 

Saul’s been alone his entire life. He will never be less alone because Carrie is alive. I guess that’s the prison he has to live in. And then maybe she’ll finally be free of hers. 

EPILOGUE:

The above is a reading of their relationship that is quite sympathetic to Carrie, obviously, and quite unsympathetic to Saul, also obviously. You will probably disagree. Gail has written very interesting stuff on how the dynamic of the Carrie/Saul relationship is most like handler/asset. I think that is a very astute perspective and there are definitely aspects of it but I think the relationship more resembles the trope of found family: she is the daughter he never had and he is the stable father she never had, and they will both ruin each other. Fin! 

[voidendron]

End of the Enemy

Forty-Theme Challenge, Prompt Five: Revenge One-Shot, 1′492 Words Canon-esque? 

(( this was kinda venty so didn’t bother editing it. feeling fine now, but figured I might as well post it! ))

Characters: Marvin the Magnificent, Antisepticeye, Chase Brody Warnings: Major Character Death, Major Character Injury, Blood, Gore, Violence, Decapitation, Gun, Knife

Sweat made long hair stick to his face and the back of his neck; the weeping gash in his forehead half-blinding him and throwing off his depth perception. How did Henrik manage with only one eye? Marvin kept tripping over his own feet because he couldn’t see straight. His mask had been knocked away a while ago, now.

His aura pulsed and clung close to the magician. Marvin swallowed as magic sparked from his fingertips. A deep frown pulled at his lips as his chest heaved. He didn’t…he didn’t know how much longer he could go. He was tired, and sore, and dizzy and…and that thing was still smiling.

The grin on the glitch’s lips made his stomach churn. It didn’t belong there. An expression of joy shouldn’t make his skin crawl, yet it did just that. That smile bared sharp fangs. He couldn’t tell what color they were in the flickering light of the kitchen, but he had a sneaking suspicion they were stained pink. It’s eyes seemed to glow in the flickering light. …In the flickering light that told Marvin that the building was in pain; that Central wanted to help him, but couldn’t find the strength. What had the glitch done to his old friend? The same thing he’d done to the other Septics, surely.

Marvin swallowed past the lump in his throat. Schneep, in a similar sleep to Jack on the floor of his lab, right next to the bed that held their creator’s comatose form. Jameson staring blankly at the wall of his room,  unable to move. And then there was Chase and Jackie. He didn’t want to think about them; about how the glitch had possessed Chase and forced him to attack the other.

He dearly hoped neither of them were hurt.

Driving Anti out of the lab, away from their creator, had taken all three of them.

Now, Marvin stood alone. He’d planted himself between Anti and the exit. He wouldn’t let the glitch get back to the lab. Not as long as he could still stand.

Anti raised his knife, and Marvin eyed it as it glinted in the room’s weak light. His own blood smeared the chipped blade.

Marvin didn’t like this lull. He didn’t like the way the glitch just…watched him. It made his hair stand on end, and not from the static he could feel biting into his skin and pushing against his aura.

A click of the tongue, and Anti’s head tilted impossibly far to one side. When the glitch dissolved into a cluster of particles, Marvin spun sharply on his heel. Watching Anti crash into the wall and sputter and curse would have been funny under any other circumstance, but now all it did was make Marvin lift his hands and send a wave of white-hot energy at the recovering Ego.

The crackling scream and sound of sizzling skin were welcome even if Marvin knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. The damned glitch didn’t go down that easily. If anything, he’d only be slowed down and pissed off.

He wiped the blood out of his eye and sent another burst of magic at the glitch. One, after another, after another. He could feel it pull at his own energy; his aura pulsed and pulled away from his hands in warning. It was putting a toll on his already exhausted body to keep going like this. He just wanted the fucking glitch to stay down. He didn’t care what the hell it took to make that hope a reality at this point.

The glitch was writhing. Tearing at his own skin as it burned and blistered. Both he and the magician cursed; Anti, as he clawed at his own neck, and Marvin when a heavy weight knocked into his side. He saw stars when his head smacked against the kitchen tiles and choked on a groan.

Get up! Get up, dammit, Marvin! he growled in his head. He was already so tired. Hurting so much. He just…wanted to lay there.

A weight on his chest made dull eyes snap open and a startled breath to catch in his throat.

Chase was pressing a knee into his chest, gun leveled with his head. His back was to the recovering glitch, and…

Oh, god. Marvin shut his eyes and let out a silent thanks as Chase grinned and winked at him.

“It’s called acting,” he mouthed. He’d learned from the best, and Marvin felt pride bloom in his chest.

Anti was on his feet now; breaths heaving as he limped toward the two of them. This was it. Last chance. They could either rid themselves of the glitch for good, or he’d kill them.

Acting, he reminded himself as Chase shifted to press the gun to his forehead. It stung against the gash, and he used that pain to let the tears come as he drew his hands up placatingly. Beggingly.

Anti was right there, now. Right behind Chase. Knife clenched in a shaking hand as he growled out the order for his puppet to shoot.

Chase smiled. “Love you, bro,” he said without sound.

The gun clicked and the vlogger spun around, and Marvin felt the panic rising back up. No, no, no, what was Chase doing?! A crack rang out from the weapon just as Chase gasped and doubled over.

Red was bleeding through Anti’s shirt to make his grungy shirt even darker.

The same went for Chase’s.

A snarl painted the glitch’s face even as his knees buckled to send him eye-level with the vlogger. Both shared wounds to the gut; one, a gunshot. The other, a knife buried to the hilt.

Marvin scrambled to sit up as Anti twisted the blade. The younger Ego choked on a sob when it was wrenched up, and finally out; all before Marvin’s heavy boot could crash into Anti’s chest to send him to the floor with a thud of his skull against the tile.

“Chase?!”

Even through the pain, Chase found it in himself to shove Marvin away and hiss out, “Get. Anti!” as he pressed his own hands into the wound.

“But—”

“Now!” His voice cracked as he fell back against the floor with teeth bared and fingers curling against the deep gash.

Chase needed help. He needed it now. But Henrik was comatose like their creator and wouldn’t wake up until Anti—

Anti.

Marvin scooped up the glitch’s knife before bringing his boot down on the bullet wound; grinding his heel in to keep the eldest Septic down. Anti howled and threw his head back as Marvin pressed more weight down on that foot.

Even so, he gave a shaky grin. "̢J͠a͠cki͢e͠bo͜y̸ wòul͘d ̨spare me for̴ ̡next͜ t͝įm̨e."̧ He growled as Marvin twisted his foot and pinned his arms with magic. "͢W͢haţ ͏d̷o͝ y̵ou ̡sa͢y,́ K̷i̶t̨te͞n?̷ Yo͝ù ͘wo̕uldn'̡t̶ hurt ͟a͝ d͜óẁne̴d ͝man̡."̴

Marvin let his aura take the knife; spinning it in place as it floated in front of him. “That’s the thing, fucker: I’m not Jackie.”

Anti’s grin faded when his knife—his own knife—stopped spinning.

The sharp blade was pointed straight down, leveled with his neck as Marvin’s aura reached out to hold his head down against the tile just like his arms.

"Yo̷u dǫn̕'t h̀a̧v͜e̛ th͘e ba̕l̶l͘s͡.͘"

A flick of the wrist, and the knife shot straight down like a projectile. The glitch’s eyes widened; expression freezing into one of shock as the blade drove straight through his neck. It crunched through his spine, stood straight up as it was driven into the floor beneath the glitch’s neck.

The only reason Anti’s head didn’t go rolling was that the blade wasn’t wide enough. It missed a bit of muscle, a few tendons, to barely keep it attached to his shoulders. For a brief moment, Marvin was so, so tempted to kick it; snap the last of those connections and send it rolling across the room. But he had something far more important to worry about.

Henrik should be waking, and Jameson, too, from his trance. And Jack! Oh, god, their creator would finally wake! And Jackie had probably been knocked out somewhere in the home before Chase broke free of his strings.

…Chase.

Marvin hit his knees at the younger Ego’s side. Patted his cheek to make him open his eyes. “Chase? Hey, c’mon, stay awake.” It took everything in him to lift Chase. He felt like he could sleep for a year, but he needed to get the other to the lab first. “I’m gonna get you to Schneep, okay? Keep your eyes open for me.”

All he got was a lazy nod as Chase tucked his head against his chest. That was good enough for Marvin. Chase was alive. They were all alive. And Anti wasn’t.

…And Anti wasn’t. It almost felt like a dream. They were rid of the glitch. Finally. Finally.