#I want to see a shitstorm for a completely idiotic reason but this time it's an italian comedy

[bluastro-yellow]

I want the internet to start a discourse over the ending of Da Grande with Renato Pozzetto (1987) because the teacher turns into a kid to stay with her elementary school student who has a crush for her

[buckyownsmylife]

Hoola, maybe Chris unconsciously placing his hand on reader's leg during an interview and accidentally saying that they're a couple? idk 😅

Ps: i love your writing.

Wait, but I love this???? P.S.: I always get excited when I see in my notifications that you liked something I wrote!

If you’re reading this and want me to write something, feel free to send me some headcanons ideas! I’ll be writing those all day!

“Isn’t it tiring? Having to spend so much time with each other?”

That was the first question the interviewer made as you three adjusted your microphones, making sure everyone was comfortable as the camera started rolling

The truthful answer was yes, but probably not for the reason that she expected, and since you couldn’t admit that holding back your sexual frustration was getting the best of you, you decided to play it cool

“Oh, yes. Evans is such a terrible guy. I have to keep myself from slapping him in the face about three times a day.”

By the way both Chris and the interviewer reacted, it was clear they hadn't been expecting this sort of sarcastic answer, but you didn’t even get to feel bad since you were the reason for Chris’ deep rumble of laughter, his hand coming up to hold his chest before he slapped it over your bare knee.

Immediately, you clenched. The contact was completely foreign - this movie was an animation, which meant you hadn’t really had the opportunity to spend much time together before this press conference

And even now that you were spending practically all day together, there hadn’t really been any sort of situation that justified any kind of skin-on-skin contact, much less one that felt so intimate, considering the position of his hand on your leg.

Still, you ruled it out as instinctive reactions. There was no reason for him to consciously decided to leave your hand on your leg like that.

“And how do you feel about her, then?” The interviewer pressed on, trying to give an opportunity for Chris to get in on the joke.

“I don’t know what to say, I mean, I know I’m an asshole, but to have your girlfriend think of you like that...”

The temperature seemed to have dropped fifteen degrees as everyone in the room froze, all staring at him at once.

In his defense, it clearly looked like he didn’t mean to say that, with his mouth opening and closing while he too, remained frozen in his seat

But then again, it clearly looked like he didn’t mean to say that, which meant that by this time tomorrow, the whole world would have bought into this idea that you and he had been secretly dating.

And even worse, it was like, once he started talking, he just couldn’t stop.

“I mean... I don’t mean... I didn’t mean ‘girlfriend’, ‘girlfriend’, I meant “girl friend’, you know? A girl that’s also a friend...”

And that’s how you ended up being the one with a hand over his knee, squeezing it tightly, signaling him to shut up.

You were able to steer the conversation into the movie and after the four minutes of the interview were done, you asked for a break so you could go back to your dressing room and talk to him in peace.

“Why the fuck would you tell the entire world that we’re dating? We’ve never- We’re not... I just don’t know what you were thinking!” You shouted as the door slammed behind the both of you, but despite the forceful words that left your mouth, it was clear you were more terrified than angry

And the way that you caught his eyes skimming your body when you turned around to look for an answer only served to steal all of your indignation away, leaving you breathless and uncomfortably aware of just how wet your panties had gotten since the second you felt his hand on you.

“I mean... since it’s gonna be a shitstorm anyway... maybe this isn’t the right time, but would you like to go on a date?”

Please, this fucking adorable idiot, I just know this is something he’d do

[beaudeanw]

Soldier Boy- What can we expect?

- Possible spoilers ahead

Gif credit : @justjensenanddean

The Boys S3 will have Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy - A Captain America-esque Supe, also known as the original superhero.

In the comic books, there are three versions of Soldier Boy. Ackles will be playing the first one. According to Eric Kripke, Soldier Boy is like the Homelander before Homelander. He has a similar kind of ambition & ego. It will just come in a different way.

He was a leader of the Team Payback - a Parody of The Avengers.

In the show, Soldier boy was the only one to ever exist.

Soldier Boy as a Character

As said above, Soldier Boy is touted to be very powerful. His powers are almost on the same level as Homelander.

According to a recent q&a with Kripke, he mentioned that Homelander will be threatened by Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy is said to be very Charming and Funny.

He will have this charisma that attracts the public towards him. As mentioned in the first episode of The Boys Season 2, Soldier Boy killed Nazis by a huge amount and he helped the Allies win the World War 2 against Germany. After that he went on to become a movie star and a huge mainstay of American culture.

During the course of S2 we saw some Easter eggs like his movie posters on the wall. Kripke compared his character to somewhat like John Wayne. If you google search John Wayne, you will get to know that he was conservative, racist, homophobic etc. John Wayne although famous for playing Soldiers in cinema, never served in WW2. He also had a complicated relationship with women.

Soldier Boy might take some similar route considering the fact that he is in fact from the 1940s. The q&a mentioned that he will be involved in a lot of Sex, Violence & Swears. Needless to say, soldier boy can totally be a. One of the 2018 tweets of Kripke said that Soldier Boy was involved in drugs & stuff. This might also be a part of his personality.

Since it's also said to be a parody of Cap America, Soldier Boy a complete anti-thesis of what former stands for. Cap America is sort of a moral, altruistic, kind & good superhero. Soldier Boy might be completely opposite. That he has no shame in hurting people & possesses no morals in order to get his work done & his ambition fulfilled. He can be the reason for the war crimes that America did after the WW2.

How the character might fit in S3

Now The Boys Season 2 ended with Stormfront becoming Stump-front. We have Homelander who got blackmailed by Queen Maeve with the footage from the airplane back from S1. We have Starlight & A- Train back in the Seven. However, the most important part is how both Vought & Homelander are completely screwed in the public eye. As we know in S2, Homelander was getting boo-ed by the public for indulging in war crimes. Now Stormfront's Nazi reveal should have some serious repercussions. The public people might boycott Vought because of their alleged ties with a literal Nazi. Homelander might not get the same love & respect in the public because he had love affair with her. We also have a Federal Bureau of Supe Affairs to keep Vought into check by Victoria Neumann, who is also a supe but thats not the point. The point is Vought needs a good PR to get themselves out of this mess.

Enter- Soldier Boy

Now there is a common theory that Vought must have kept him in some kind of facility & have him trapped. This is a very good possibility since that will mean that he is basically has no idea about the modern world. During S2 we saw a statue of Soldier Boy which showed that he sort of died in the 80s. So it will be interesting to see how Vought brings Soldier Boy back in the public eye.

Now Soldier Boy coming back to Vought can help them with Good PR. I mean who better than a Supe who killed Nazis in WW2 can help Vought clean up the Nazi shitstorm. He is the golden boy of patriotism. He is like a blue print of how they wanted Homelander to be when they created him the lab.

Another common theory that spread which was also kind of agreed by Laz Alonso, the actor who plays Mother's milk said that only his character until now never had something personal against a supe. We also learnt sort of MM's backstory in S2 which mentioned his father working against Vought & how he fought until he died. We have an idea that there is a possibility that both Soldier Boy & his father might have existed at the same point & SB might have something to do with his dad.

This can also be the reason why he vanished in the 80s & Vought lied about his death.

This also makes sense because at the end of S2, we saw all the members of The Boys seperated. One of the major reasons why they come back together is to help MM. I mean MM has been kind of a backbone keeping all of them together. A moral conscience. He is a good friend of all. So if he is in problem, the boys will come back together to help him for a change.

I am pretty sure that with Soldier Boy we will get to learn a lot about the dirty past of Vought & metaphorically, America.

Soldier Boy and Homelander

So first of all, Ackles' Soldier Boy & Homelander didn't have any sort of sexual relations. What happened in the comics was a sexual assault. That was Solder Boy #3. That character was a bumbling idiot, subservient to Homelander who got manipulated by him. It's also not logical for the show to have that kind of relationship of SB & HL. Homelander doesn't have that kink that is shown in the comics. Also, soldier boy in the show looks like has a dominating personality as opposed to of an idiot.

What Ackles is playing is Soldier Boy #1, the one fought in WW2 & as mentioned above, he is the only one to ever exist in the world of TV Show.

However, both of these characters have a lot of similarities. They are both powerful, egotistical, narcissistic, pathetic male superheroes. The difference is the situations they will be in. Homelander is currently in a problematic situation as his issue with wanting validation are bare open. He is emotionally at its weakest point. He wants to be loved. He longs for validation from the public which Maeve uses to threaten him. As he was made in a lab, he didn't have a normal childhood. He didn't have friends or anything. However, Soldier Boy was given Compound V when he was an adult. That means he might not require the same kind of validation. He is a very self-assured man. Also, since he was around in public life for decades, he has received love for years. So he not only he is physically strong, he might be emotionally capable against Homelander.

S3 might create a problem of Power Struggle.

Homelander might struggle to keep his head strong & possibly be threatened by Soldier Boy. Since the latter seems very confident, he might be able to take his position in Vought back. In the S2 premiere, we get to see how Homelander thinks of himself as indispensable for Vought as a company & how Stan Edgar shuts him down. Now think about how Homelander will react when Vought's original golden boy comes back & takes his what he thinks is his. There is a power struggle here. It's likely that Soldier Boy might corner him because of how popular he is in the public and how Homelander wants that same love that SB is getting. S3 might present a situation in front of him when a supe who might almost be as powerful as him & emotionally stronger than him kind of threatens both his power and position.

Soldier Boy and Stormfront

Speaking of Stormfront, Eric Kripke mentioned in a TV guide article that Soldier Boy had a connection with her when she was Liberty. Now both of them were created at the same time by the same man. Liberty was married to Frederick Vought but he then joined the Allies & injected Soldier Boy with Compound V. Now they are basically two sides of the same coin.

Some of this is from articles with Kripke's description of the character, some of them are common theories that have floated around & some of it is my predictions about what direction the character's storyline can take. This is majorly based on everything I have read, heard or watched. It doesn't mean that any of it will turn out the way it's written here. But I still hope this is helpful.

Anyway, I am very excited to see Jensen in this new role. I know he will rock it and I can't wait.

Some Articles I took into consideration -

[oceantail-oceantail]

context for this post:

Dream posted this pastebin in the speedrunning discord as a full apology to the mods, the community, and specific people (Geosquare, Couriway, Korbanoes).

(Korbanoes isn't mentioned in the pastebin because Dream forgot, but he can't edit the pastebin, so he just apologized in the discord)

transcript under the cut.

I thought I would write up this apology to the speedrun community / discord / mod team, as my document I posted on my twitter was more of an explanation than an apology and I felt the need to more directly apologize.

--- Speedrun Mods ---

I have spoken to many of the speedrun moderators in private and apologized in the past and recently for my behaviors back when the speedrun drama was going on. Although I won't make the specifics of these apologies public, I will directly apologize to them here. I'm sorry to the mod team for causing a shitstorm on Twitter and Youtube and elsewhere with my aggressive and condescending tweets and language. I have explained my mindset during the time period, but that doesn't justify or excuse any of my actions or words. I am truly sorry for the way that I reacted and wish that I could have controlled my emotions better. I'm sorry for any negative things this may have caused for you, I accept responsibility for not doing everything that I could have to prevent them. I can explain my mindset during these situations, but intention is not as important when there was a negative outcome due to my actions. I'm sorry, and I want to continue to make it up to the mod team in any way that I can.

I believe that Geosquare deserves my biggest apologies. I've spoken to Geosquare since, and we have made up with each other and are on good terms, I will not make the contents of our discussions public however I will apologize to him directly here. I'm sorry for the way that I acted towards you, as under no circumstances is that kind of behavior okay. Tweeting out for millions to see calling you a clout chaser and accusing your intentions of being vindictive couldn't have done anything but cause harm. I regret essentially everything that I said to you in private, and in public in the speedrun discord or in tweets. I was full of anger and fear and I let these emotions get the best of me while not at all caring about the effect my actions would have on you as an individual. Although this was almost a year ago, I'm sure that you still face problems today due to the size of my audience and the harshness of my words. I apologize and I want to make it up to you in any way that I can. Since this issue I have made an effort to better control my negative emotions, and be more clear and direct about avoiding hate and harassment. I hope that these are things that can be noticed, and that I can continue to improve upon. Having a large audience means you have to be responsible with it, and I wasn't at all during the situation in December. I am sorry and although you have said you have forgiven me, I still feel terrible and hope that we can better our relationship going forward.

--- Speedrun Community ---

As a Youtuber, I always felt like a bit of an outsider to the speedrun community. I tried my best to promote top runners and make friends with speedrunners and participate in discussions in the discord and elsewhere. I tried to involve the community in competitions, and I tried to do my best to assist the mods with cleaning up the leaderboard from cheaters. I really wanted to be a part of the community because it was something that I loved doing and I really became attached to it. Even before the speedrun drama, there was an instance where I falsely accused a popular runner "Couriway" of cheating. There was a misunderstanding and I jumped the gun in saying something in their Twitch chat about doubts that I had regarding their recent run. I don't think I ever got a chance to apologize to them, so I just want to do so here. I'm sorry Couriway for incorrectly accusing you of cheating. I completely understand how that must have felt and I am extremely sorry. I should never have said something in your Twitch chat, and I should have completely left it up to the mods to do their jobs. I regret this and I regret not having apologized to you sooner. I won't attempt to justify my actions here, but I have added you back on discord and if you would like to chat more about it I am completely willing.

As for to the community, I know that due to this situation being one of the biggest dramas that Minecraft has ever had, it brought a lot of hate and strife to the community. I contributed directly to this by arguing with people in the discord and on twitter, and fueled fans of mine by saying hateful things. I am sorry for this. I understand being doubtful of my explanation, and don't think it's unreasonable to assume that I am being dishonest. While I was not aware that I was running any disallowed modifications, that is completely my fault. I should have been much more reasonable and level headed and done my duty as someone submitting a run to the leaderboards. I explained my mindset during this situation in the other paste, but I want to make it clear that it was not at all a justification or a way of excusing the things that I said or did. Although I believe that there was poor communication on both sides, at the end of the day it is completely my responsibility to make sure that any run I submit has integrity and I failed to do so. I was completely in the wrong, and I argued like an idiot for months not wanting to even explore the fact that I could be. I tunnel visioned and because of that, I ended up arguing an unintentional lie and causing harm to people who were just trying to be fair. This could have been for many reasons, but I blame my ego and the fact that sometimes I just can't accept when I'm wrong. There is no one to blame but myself, and I take responsibility for that. The way I used my influence while saying negative and aggression provoking things was not okay at all and something that I am ashamed of. Since almost a year ago, I have been doing my best to reflect on this and improve as a creator that is new to the spotlight. I have nothing but respect for the mod team, speedrunners and the speedrun community. You are not obligated to forgive me or to accept my apology in any way, but I am sorry for the damage that I caused and wish that I could go back and change the way things went. I like to think that I have had a positive impact on Minecraft speedrunning overall, but that's wishful thinking including the stain that this situation put on the community. I am sorry.

I took all of my runs that I have ever submitted down from speedrun.com personally myself, including the ones that were still up and verified. I also messaged a member of the mod team requesting that I be banned from submitting runs in the future even though I was told before that this wouldn't happen. I think that is a fair result, and I have no plans on submitting runs in the future and haven't since October of last year and since my run was removed. I never intended any harm to the community and I still want the speedrun community to flourish as much as it can. I pledged to donate money I made from the response video to speedrunning, and I did to a live speedrunning tournament that featured a lot of the top runners last month, Break The Record Live. One of my goals since joining the community was to try and help speedrunners turn speedrunning from a hobby into a livable job, and I tried to accomplish that by frequently raiding, donating to, and bringing up runners throughout the community. I still plan to do that, and although I know money doesn't show intentions, I would like to pledge an additional $50,000, that I will be donating to speedrunners of all sizes from the Minecraft community on Twitch over the next month or so.

The reason that I decided to make the post that I did the other day was to provide closure to the community on an issue that should have been resolved almost a year ago. I hope that this accomplishes that if even a little bit. Again, I am sorry to the mod team and the community for all the problems that came from this drama and hope to continue improving as an individual.

- love dream

[spiderman-homecomeme]

day six - off the record

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

A/N: DAY SIX!! AHHHH I can’t believe we’re here already and that tomorrow’s the last day. It’s been so fun seeing what everyone’s been posting, and I am so excited for tomorrow and sunday when I can finally be free to read ALL OF THEM AH

This fic is going to be a short little multi-chap journalist au! It was originally going to be just one long one shot, but then I changed my mind lol

Thanks again @spideychelleweek​!!

Read here or on AO3

-

The anger Michelle feels right in this moment is no stranger to her.

It’s boiling hot, bubbling just under the surface of her skin, and she hides it under a thinning veil of nonchalance. She walks with purpose down the hall, far away from Mr. Jameson’s office, her footsteps echoing sharply.

The day had started out like any other, boring, uneventful, still a chance for it not to turn into a shitstorm. After writing her most successful article to date for the Daily Bugle’s website—one concerning a certain masked vigilante-slash-menace and his fight with a one Aleksei Systevich and the million dollars of damage that was brought onto Rockefeller Center as a result of said fight—Michelle had assumed that the hundreds of thousands of hits and the out pour of response from the readers, that she would be able to move on. 

That she wouldn’t be stuck in this Groundhog Day time-loop of writing article after article about the dumb webhead.

Normally, hearing that the website was doing so well might make her happy. She might celebrate that every front page piece of writing is hers, her name under every article right at the top. Then again, the only reason they’re doing so well, and the only reason she’s consistently getting the top spot, is by slandering some idiot’s image. 

Or rather, in this case, libeling some idiot’s image. 

This job was supposed to be a stepping stone for something else, something better. Something that would launch her into the higher world of journalism. There’s this underlying feeling, one that tells her that this is only temporary. That this can lead to bigger and better things. 

Though, part of her doesn’t think spending precious time writing sensationalized, gotcha-pieces is what’s going to help her.

But Jameson had said otherwise. He said that this was exactly what the people wanted, not the boring political think-pieces that she wanted to write about. The people want drama, he’d said. They want to be angry, he’d said IN ALL CAPS, his seemingly permanent speaking voice. He had turned her down when she’d asked if she could write something else, almost immediately, and instead, emailed her yet another folder of Spider-Man pictures that Peter Parker had sent him earlier. 

God. Peter Parker. 

Just thinking the name makes the burning anger within her flare; makes her stomach twist into stinging knots. Her jaw clenches as she thinks about how this is all technically his fault. Sure, she could very well be forced into writing the articles without the pictures, but apparently, it’s the pictures and her punny, scathing titles that grab the reader’s attention. It all really took off when they got that first up-close-and-personal shot. 

And then, come to think of it—though she’s not sure how or why Parker knows Spider-Man, and frankly she doesn’t care to know—why on earth would one of “Earth’s Mightiest (ha) Heroes” keep letting this guy take his pictures if he’s just giving them to the news site that’s going to keep roasting him alive? It didn’t make a lick of sense. And if it’s just a matter of ignorance, how could he possibly not realize that was going on?

Something’s not adding up.

But then again, she doesn’t have time to follow that suspicion. Apparently, she’s got another article to write. Due by the Monday of next week, eight o’ clock in the morning on the dot in Jameson’s inbox. 

She has the rest of this Friday evening and a whole weekend. 

Closing her eyes, setting her jaw, she comes to the elevator, her hand just missing the button in her haste. The faint, slightly-off-pitch ding from the door opening forces her eyes open again, and truly, she’d rather just close them again and wait for the next one than get in. 

Right in front of her, eyes widening a fraction in surprise before narrowing ever so slightly, is who she considers might the actual devil himself.

Peter Parker stares at her a moment before quickly ripping his gaze away. “Evening, Ms. Jones.” He says, mostly out of what she assumes is an attempt at being polite, as he stares down at his shoes.

She decides it’s not worth waiting, wanting to just go home and get this damn article over with so she can go on to write the next. And the next. And the next. 

“Evening,” she replies with a curt nod, responding not because she wants the last word—it’s nothing like that at all—but simply out of the desire not to be perceived as rude. 

He stands there, shifting on his feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see his thumb tapping rhythmically against the strap of his messenger bag as he glances up at the ceiling. It’s something so quiet, yet as far as she’s concerned, it brings the same effect as nails on a chalkboard to her ears. 

“Heading home?” He asks after a crushing beat, starting to reach for the buttons along the wall to close the door.

“Yep,” Is her one word reply, and she leaves it at that, emphasizing the p with a final pop. 

Michelle doesn’t hear any response, and sees him give a single nod when she passes a fleeting side-eyed glance. They both stare straight ahead as the doors close in front of them. The elevator kicks to life, beginning the long downward descent to the ground floor. Peter clears his throat, once again a noise that grates on her ears. 

The air in the small box is thick. Heavy. Though she can’t see his face, and though he may try and hide it behind a forced smile, she knows the same disdain is there. And how could it not be? He’s clearly friends with the man she’s been writing about, being his photographer and what not, and it would explain the withering glares he throws at her after each new article is released when he thinks she’s not looking. 

It’s not as if she’s watching him, though. It’s nothing like that. She’s merely being observant. 

And besides, she couldn’t care less how he actually feels about her behind the heated stares and the dramatic clenches of his jaw. It’s not her problem. It’s not something she needs to concern herself with. 

Peter Parker is the least of her worries. 

In her peripheral vision, she sees him rock back on his heels, looking down at his watch. He blows out a harsh puff of air, shaking his head. 

God, he’s thinking so loud, she wishes she could tell him to shut the hell up. 

“Got a long weekend?” He asks out of the blue, shattering the brick wall of silence between them. There’s a slight pointedness to his question, and she swears there’s a hint of humor in his tone as if he knows all about this assignment she’s just been given. He knows damn well that he’s the reason she’s so miserable. 

For a moment, she doesn’t answer. Perhaps she can pretend she hasn’t heard him. “Nope.” Again, she gives the single-word answer, nothing more. His attempt at conversation just to seem polite is laughable. 

Whether or not he’s satisfied with her answer, she doesn’t bother finding out, and she doesn’t care. The door opens with another ding, and she’s out before he can make any other sad attempt. 

--

“Okay, Grumpy,” Ned says as he passes a beer to his best friend across the table. 

Peter looks up at him, his lips pulled into a frown. “Grumpy? What are you talking about?”

“We’re really gonna do this right now?” 

“Do what?” Peter’s brow pinches together as his head jerks back in surprise. “I’m fine.”

Ned gives him a pointed look. 

A beat passes before Peter finally relents, sinking back against the booth in the crowded bar. “It’s Michelle. From work.”

“I’m aware of who Michelle is, yes,” Ned gives a slow nod. 

Peter shakes his head, leaning forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “It’s just—I know she’s writing another article about me—about Spider-Man. And I guess I get that it’s her job and all, but… You’d think she’d turn it down after the first dozen, you know? Like, yeah, we get it. New York gets it. Spidey’s a menace. All the help he does actually causes a lot of damage. Sure, I could probably stop giving Jameson the pictures, but... I need this job. And... And I don’t think that’d actually help.” 

Ned nods slowly, listening to his friend rant. 

“And—and, yeah, maybe she’s writing all this shit to please Jameson, and maybe she doesn’t actually believe anything she writes but… why keep doing it?”

“Maybe he won’t let her?” Ned suggests. 

“Nah.” Peter waves that idea off. “Jameson worships the ground she walks on. She can do no wrong in his eyes apparently. Meanwhile, I give him amazing shots of Spider-Man that he can just have her completely shit on, and I do it all without complaining.”

Again, Ned gives him a pointed, questioning look.

“This is different!”

“Uh-huh.” Ned’s lips press together into a thin line as he stares at his beer in contemplation. Finally, after a moment, he speaks. “Did you ever think about… asking her to stop writing them?”

Peter frowns, brow furrowing. “Asking her? Absolutely not. She’d say no. No—she wouldn’t even let me ask. She seems to hate me for some reason? Like—” He pauses, taking a breath. “Today. In the elevator. I was trying to be nice to her. Trying to be polite. I tried to make conversation with her and she just blew me off.” He scoffs, taking a swig of his beer. “And besides, if I ask her to stop writing those articles about Spider-Man, she’s gonna find out I’m Spider-Man.”

Ned purses his lips, nodding solemnly. “I mean,” he takes a drink of his beer. “Maybe if she didn’t hate you, you could ask.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know why she hates me. That’s the problem.”

“Dude, I doubt you’ll ever find out why if you don’t talk to her.”

“Did you not hear me?” Peter asks, exasperated. “I tried talking to her.”

“Well, maybe don’t start with talking,” Ned continues. “If she hates your guts like you say she does, you can’t just walk up to her all ‘oh, hi Ms. Jones! How’s your day?’” Ned shrugs. “I guess what I’m saying is… just be… friendly? Be yourself. Don’t… try so hard. To her, it’s probably coming across as fake.”

Peter sits back again, mouth set in deep thought. 

“You’re a great guy, Peter,” Ned says genuinely. “And my best friend. She’ll see that if you just… don’t be a dick.”

At that, Peter laughs for the first time that night. “Thanks, Ned.” In spite of his sour mood, the small grin that forms on his face stays. 

“No problem, man,” Ned shrugs. “So, movies this weekend…”

As Ned continues, Peter picks at his thumb, twiddling his fingers, contemplating. As much as he hates to admit it, his best friend is right. He’s not going to get anywhere with Michelle if she keeps hating him, and even if he might not understand why, he needs to at least make an effort to not fuel that fire with whatever the hell he does that bothers her. 

No, if he wants those articles of Spider-Man to stop one) he should stop supplying pictures for Jameson and maybe try something else, and two) become friends with her and just ask. He knows it’s not going to be easy, but at this point, he’s willing to try anything. 

And as his friend is talking, he can see the memory from earlier today, the one of her steely glare that she thought he couldn’t see as she stormed out of the elevator. The way her eyes had made his stomach turn and flip, his face growing unbearably hot. 

God, this is gonna be hard. 

--

Michelle can barely hear Betty’s voice from the kitchen asking whether or not she wanted the chardonnay or the riesling over the sound of her furious typing. It’s been only three hours since she got home, and she’s already flying through this article. 

Truly, it’s not difficult writing, the scathing libel. It takes skill, sure, but this has never felt like something she put one-hundred percent into. Though, now, as she’s begun to run out of different insults and turns of phrase to throw at this hero, she’s beginning to reconsider her original judgement. 

“Here.”

Betty’s voice suddenly close by—accompanied by the sound of a wine glass clacking onto the coffee table—startles her out of her writing trance. 

“Got you the riesling.” Betty throws a soft smile before sitting herself on the other side of the couch. 

Michelle returns the expression, though it takes some effort, before reaching for her drink. “Thanks,” she mutters before taking a sip.

“Anytime,” Betty grins again. “Jameson got you writing another one?”

Michelle glances down at her laptop before running a stressed hand through her hair. “Yeah. Yeah he is.” 

“Did you—”

“—Yes. I asked him. Again. Today.” Michelle answers before Betty can even finish the question. “And, as usual. He said no. Apparently, the internet doesn’t care about things that are actually important.”

Betty cringes, pulling her legs up under her. “Sorry.”

Michelle lets out a half-hearted laugh. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not. But what’s one more, right?” She shrugs. “At this point, I’d have to find something bigger than Spider-Man to get the masses all up in arms.”

Betty weighs that statement, squinting one eye. “What’s bigger than Spider-Man?”

“The Avengers, probably,” Michelle answers easily. “I don’t know. Jameson really hates Spider-Man. Like really hates him. Probably more than he hates his wife, I’m guessing. If I wanna stop writing about Spider-Man, I have to write the most sensational, stupid, dramatic article ever written.”

At that, Betty gives a half-smile, before her eyes go wide, a light bulb appearing above her head. 

“What?” Michelle asks warily. 

“What if you found out who he really is?”

“Who? Spider-Man?”

“Spider-Man.”

It’s Michelle’s turn to be skeptical. “You really think I can figure that out?”

Betty gives her a deadpan stare. “Please, you know you can.”

Michelle looks down at her hands. “I mean, yeah. I probably could. Eventually. But—” She tilts her head from side to side. She opens her mouth to continue before clamping her mouth shut, sitting straight up. “Peter Parker knows Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, he’s the guy who gets all the pictures, right?”

“Right.” Michelle puts her laptop on the couch, standing up slowly. “If I can get him to introduce me, and then interview Spidey, I could definitely figure it out.”

“But you guys hate each other,” Betty points out.

“Well… Yeah, but—” Michelle starts pacing. “Maybe if I were friends with him, or like… just vaguely rude acquaintances that are on relatively good terms, then maybe—maybe it could work?”

Betty’s lips twist thoughtfully as she watches her friend. “I mean, maybe. But MJ—” she cuts herself off. “If you’re gonna try and be friends with him…” She pauses. “You’re gonna have to be nice to him.” 

Michelle stares, deadpan, at her friend, unimpressed with the light teasing. “Yeah. I know. But—” She sighs. “It’s not permanent. As soon as I get that interview, we can go back to hating each other. It’s perfect.”

If all it took was being nice and polite, genuinely, then Michelle could certainly do it. No problem. She’ll kick this off right. She’ll show up at his office on Monday with coffee after she turns in this next article, they’ll talk things out, it’ll be great. Fast friends. 

Or, as she’d much prefer, vaguely rude acquaintances that are on relatively good terms. 

No, this wasn’t as hard as Betty was making it out to be. Michelle could be mature. She could make and enemy into a friend. Plus, she’s seen Peter when he’s not interacting with her. He smiles a lot, and when he laughs, the corners of his eyes wrinkle warmly. He’s always happy to joke with other coworkers. Always helping out with other projects.

Just a few things she’s observed about him. 

Other than him being an absolute dick. 

“You really think it’ll be that easy?” Betty asks, eyebrows raised skeptically. 

Michelle smirks, taking her wine glass in hand and taking a slow sip. 

“I really do.”

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

Gold Digger - Chapter 5 | Gwilym Lee x OFC

A/N: I am an idiot.

Warnings: The usual!

Word Count: ~2K

The Playlist (Updates Regularly)

Chapter List:  Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

"You've known this for how long?!" Gwilym was flabbergasted. Dumbfounded. Absolutely livid with all of his friends and his cousin. 

He invited Lizzie over for movie night with Ben and Annie, and it was all but ruined. Lizzie sat next to him on the sofa, shrinking into herself, wishing she'd stayed home. She told Shelly she felt like this will be a bad idea, but Shelly insisted. Lizzie started believing that she shouldn't listen to Shelly, ever again.

"A while." Ben shrugged and sipped his beer, bouncing his knee. 

"I tried to tell you..." Annie placed her hand on Ben's knee to still it. "You kept shutting me up every time." 

"I can't believe she didn't say anything!" Gwilym fumed. "Do you think -" "Mate, don't go there," Ben warned. 

"-They had an affair?" Gwilym ignored Ben. "Oh, my God. She cheated on me."  

"First of all, fuck you!" Annie hissed. "She would never do that. Jamie? Yes. He definitely cheated on... Uh... What's-her-face. Yes." 

"Lovely." Gwilym snarled. 

"But Clara would never even dream of doing that to you. She loves you." 

Ben's eyes darted over to Lizzie, who sat in complete silence. He could see her face fall in defeat at Annie's words, and he pinched Annie's side as a way of telling her off for hurting the poor girl. Annie quickly realized what she had said and felt mortified. 

"She doesn't love me." Gwilym shot back. "She loved me a long time ago." "Not that long..." Lizzie mumbled.

"Who else knows?" Gwilym was so caught up with himself, he didn't even hear Lizzie's soft voice. "Rami? Lucy? Joe?" 

"Well, the entire world knows." Annie sighed. "You were just so in denial..."  

"I can't believe this." Gwilym rested his elbows on his knees and planted his face in his hands. "Fucking Jamie." 

"Aye." Ben nodded solemnly. "But it's out now." 

"I was just there a couple-a-days ago!" Gwilym ranted. "And she said nothing!" 

"You were there?" Annie echoed. "There - where?" 

"Clara's." Gwilym clarified.

The room fell silent. 

"Why?" Ben was the first to speak. 

"She needed me." Gwil shrugged with a scoff. "I can't believe her."

"She needed you?" Annie asked. "What for?" 

"Doesn't matter." Gwil frowned. "Every time she texts or calls, I'm there for her, and she didn't have the decency to tell me about this." 

"I think I'm gonna go," Lizzie said after clearing her throat.

Gwil seemed to suddenly remember that Lizzie was there. His face flushed. 

"No, stay!" He held onto her wrist as she stood up. 

She looked down at him and smiled awkwardly. "It's getting late, I'm working tomorrow..." 

"I'll give you a lift!" Ben offered. 

"What? No, I can take the tube -"

"Nonsense." Ben waved her off and stood up. "I have to go pick up more beer, anyways. Come on."

____________________________________________________________

"You are an arse!" Annie seemed almost feral. "That poor girl!" 

Gwilym just shook his head in shock. Things had not gone as he had planned. Gwilym planned a fun, double-date (but without actually calling it that) with a woman he fancied and his best mate and his cousin. What he ended up with was a ferocious cousin, and his girl left, almost in tears, because he couldn't stop obsessing over his ex. 

"I know. I know." Gwilym felt deflated. "I don't know why I couldn't stop talking about Clara. God, I'm so cross with her!" 

"You're still going strong, I see." Annie rolled her eyes. "Gwilym, get over it. Clara moved on!" 

"No, you don't understand," Gwilym said. "I'm fine with the fact she moved on. What I'm not okay with is that -"

"It's Jamie she moved on to?" 

"If you let me finish a sentence." Gwil had a warning tone to his voice. "What I'm not okay with is that she didn't tell me." 

"Why would she?" Annie asked. "She's got you at her beck and call and Jamie to keep her bed warm at night. Perfect combination." 

"So, you knew!" Gwilym was stunned. 

"I knew she asked you to come over a few times after breaking up," Annie confirmed. "I had no idea you were there just a couple of days ago." 

"God, and she had just gotten back from that holiday!" 

"Gwil -"

"I fucking saw her tan!" 

"Gwilym -" 

"God, I'm so utterly stupid!"

"Yes." Annie nodded furiously. "And you have some pretty big damage control to do."

_____________________________________________________________

"So..." Ben drummed with his hands on the steering wheel. "That was awkward."  

"It's whatever," Lizzie said with a shaky voice and cleared her throat. "I'm just glad I got to hang out with you lot." 

"Aw, that's sweet." Ben turned and smiled at her. "Gwil isn't usually this dense, you know." 

"I know. Gwil was caught off guard." Lizzie bit the inside of her cheek. "T'was fine while it lasted." 

"Movie night or your friendship with Gwil?" Ben asked. 

"Yes." Lizzie sighed.

"Which one?" Ben looked perplexed. 

"Both?" _____________________________________________________________

Gwilym felt relieved when Ben walked through the door carrying bags full of beer. He sat on the sofa looking like a chided child, with Annie in front of him, towering over him and looking like smoke will come out of her ears if he uttered one more word. 

"Look, mate," Ben sat on the sofa next to him, "I get that you're upset, but this was just..." 

"Rude." Annie finished his sentence. 

"I know." Gwil rubbed at his bearded cheeks. "God, I'm an arse." 

"Yeah." Annie nodded. 

"We were just as shocked when we found out, you know," Ben revealed. Gwil turned to look at him. "Annie found some racy pictures on Clara's phone, and they weren't Clara's..." 

"Oh, God." Gwilym felt the color drain from his face. Jamie sent nudes to Clara. His Clara. "That horny bastard -" 

"Didn't do anything wrong." Annie interrupted him. "You were broken up. Although your texts with her begged to differ." 

"How do you know about the texts?" Gwilym exhaled in shock. "Did she show them to you?" 

"I was looking right over her shoulder on one of your sessions." Annie shrugged. "It doesn't matter. What matters is, she was just being Clara. Jamie was just being Jamie."

"What, so it's alright?" Gwilym scoffed. "Are you bloody joking?"  

"No, it's not alright. It's just... what it is."

"You fancy Lizzie, don't you?" Ben chimed in. 

"Uh, duh." Gwilym rolled his eyes. "You know that I do." 

"Then you shouldn't give a bloody shit about what Clara's doing. Or who." Ben shrugged. "And I don't want to be that bloke, but I think you've utterly shat on your chances with Lizzie with your little hissy fit earlier. She did not seem alright on the ride back to hers.”

____________________________________________________________

"You're usually so much smarter, man." Joe sounded disappointed with Gwilym as he finished telling him the story of the night's events. "I mean, I freaked out when I first found out about Clara and Jamie, too, but not to this extent." 

"I know." 

"Are you sure you're over her, buddy?" Joe asked just before a car horn went off next to him. "Like, really over her?" 

"Yes!" Gwilym almost groaned. "I'm sure! First Annie, then Ben, now you?" 

"Look, we have every reason to wonder!" Joe retorted. "You're acting like a scorned lover!" 

"I am not!" 

"Yes, you are," Joe said. "And I'm afraid Lizzie picked up on it. She ain't stupid, you know." 

"I know."

"You better hope and cross all your fingers and toes that she still wants to have you around after that scene you pulled on her," Joe remarked. "You really are Annie's cousin, aren't you?" 

"Oh, shove it," Gwilym chuckled. "I'm nowhere near as dramatic as her." 

"No, but you did manage to create a shitstorm." Joe countered. "Anyways, I gotta run, man. Fix this. I believe in you!" 

"Thanks, mate," Gwilym sighed. "Keep those fingers crossed for me!"

He hung up the call and opened up WhatsApp, clicking on his chat with Lizzie. It was time to make some repairs to what he hoped wasn't an utterly destroyed friendship.

'Sorry for being a knob.'

Gwilym stared at the text for a full hour after sending it and not getting any reply. He completely ignored Lizzie's existence, he had a massive fit over his ex while Lizzie was there, and he acted like an absolute fool. The fact that Lizzie hadn't replied at all made him pace around the apartment restlessly. It was near 2AM when Ben and Annie left. He figured Lizzie was probably sleeping by now - but he needed her to text back and make sure everything is alright. He waited for hours. Lizzie's reply came at 5AM. 

'Thanks.'

Sleep-deprived and nervous, Gwilym felt like his insides shattered. A one-word text was very unusual for Lizzie, especially when she wasn't actively teaching at the moment. She had just woken up. She never sent him one-worded texts no matter how knackered she was. He knew he messed up, big time. 

'Seriously. I was such a prick. I'm so sorry.'

'She's your ex. I get it.' 

Gwilym frowned as he looked down at the screen and tried to comprise a coherent sentence. 

'Point is, she's my ex. I shouldn't have reacted that way.'

'You have history.'

'That, we do. I'm still incredibly sorry. You have no idea.'

He hoped for a reply but knew Lizzie was busy preparing for the day and decided not to push his luck. Plugging his phone in its' charger, he sat down on his bed with a grunt. He placed the phone on the nightstand and laid back, falling into a fitful sleep. 

___________________________________________________________

Gwilym couldn't sleep for long. As he parked the car at the school Lizzie taught in, he ran over things he's planned to say over and over. How sorry he was. How he didn't mean to ignore her. How he valued their friendship but would love it if it were more than just a friendship. 

How utterly beautiful he thinks she is, and her laughter is melodic, and she's so smart and kind. How regretful he is for obsessing over Clara, and putting her in that situation, to begin with. How over Clara he is, or how silly it was in the first place when he's got a great girl right in front of him.

He moved on autopilot, smoothing down the front of his navy blue sweater as he marched into the building and headed for the administration office to ask for directions to Lizzie's classroom. He took five selfies and one "Happy Birthday!" video from the secretaries and other faculty that still hung around and went out on his way down the hallways. With every corner turned, he heard his heartbeat louder and louder in his chest. He felt like it might explode by the time he spotted Lizzie at her desk and knocked on the doorframe to Lizzie's classroom.

"Gwilym?" Lizzie blinked at the figure standing in the doorway to her classroom. "What on earth?" 

"Figured I might as well apologize in person." Gwilym shrugged and peeked inside the classroom. The school day was over; the kids all gone. "Is it alright if I...?" 

"Sure." Lizzie stood up from her desk and walked over to him. They met halfway and smiled at each other, sheepishly. "Welcome to my realm." 

"It looks very nice!" Gwilym complimented her as he looked around at the decorations and different learning stations around the room. His eyes seemed to shine as he took in his surroundings. He could feel his heart fill up with warmth and awe, peeking into Lizzie's world like that. "Bet the kids love it!" 

"They seem to." Lizzie smiled proudly. "What are you doing here?" 

"I felt so horrid after last night." He said and sat on the edge of Lizzie's desk, crossing his arms. "I totally forgot you were there, and I just flipped out on Ben and Annie and..." 

"Yeah."

"It wasn't even about Clara, to be honest." Gwilym rolled up his sleeves. "It was just..." 

"Your ex is moving on, and it's difficult." Lizzie sighed. "I get it, really. I do."

"Not at all. Clara can move on as many times as she'd like, frankly. I was just caught off-guard that they all knew. Before I did, that is." Gwilym explained. "I'm just... I never wanted to be the last to know something that involves me." 

"Does it involve you, though?" Lizzie quipped. 

"Sorry?" Gwilym leaned back in surprise at Lizzie's bluntness. 

"It doesn't involve you at all, I reckon," Lizzie noted. "It involves Clara, yes, but not you. You're broken up." 

"I know we are." Gwilym nodded. "I'm quite thankful because if we hadn't broken up, I'd never meet you." 

"I don't understand why you'd react so passionately to something that has nothing to do with you and..." Lizzie continued, disregarding Gwilym's last comment. 

She was silenced by Gwilym pulling on her wrist to bring her closer to him, then crashing his lips onto hers. Lizzie pushed him back and stepped away, her wrist still in his hand. They stared each other down, panting. 

________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @ramibaby-deactivated20191128 @filmslutt @lose-you-to-find-me @sonic-volcano  @nosferatyou @rogertaylorin1976 @mrhoemazzello

[brykisheaven]

 i didn’t want to make a post like this because i dont a pity party or anything but i have to get this out of my head before i end up bottling it up and making it worse like i’ve done before.  //tw: body shame, verbal abuse, suicide mentions, racism (small mention) , long text in general tbh//

over the past couple of months, my life at home has been completely all over the place, every day when i wake up i feel like it’s just a cycle of nothing, all i do is sit at home doing online classes and finishing massive amounts of homework, some even due the next day. my back is so tired from just sitting down and typing and it has just made me so bored and stressed out. more so these days, the only reason i even bother to do my homework is because i can also talk to my friends on discord while im doing them, which makes me slightly feel better, sometimes i even give up on doing homework just to talk to them because it gives me a better reason to wake up than just do the same thing over and over again. it’s a horrible feeling that i hate but im very thankful i have my friends to make me feel a bit better. but my situation with my parents is more worse than this and sadly my friends cannot help with it, but they also help me stay somewhat happy while this shitstorm goes down every day. my parents have been getting more and more angry towards each other also, which makes my situation even worse, my father (who doesn’t live with me anymore) is so fucking horrible and stubborn, he makes racist jokes which i hate and i always tell him how he should stop being a fucking idiot and a jerk but he wont listen and just tells me “it’s a joke” but it’s fucking not, or at least its a fucking horrible disgusting joke, alongside that, he also makes me feel like i cannot do anything, i hate being with him and i dont even see him as my father anymore, nowadays i just see him as a random man my mother makes me go with only because he’s related to me in a way. his wife is also a fucking bitch who hates the living hell out of me and my sisters, she always complains about us and how we’re “uneducated” or “bad-behaved”, well bitch guess what at least im not a fucking prick who ruins peoples lives am i??? i cant even pretend to be happy anymore, im just so done pretending to be fine with this. I just came back from staying with him and i’m just so glad im home, the 2 days i spent with him after a whole 3 months were the worst of my life basically, i pretended to do my homework just so he could leave me alone, i began crying myself to sleep while drawing because that was the only thing that made me feel better somewhat. i dont want him to even stay in contact with my mother, all the time he just argues how im doing things wrong and that my mother is a bad example and teaching me wrong things, he blames her for the reason i have a rather thick body and it makes me so mad. my mother isn’t that great either but at least she tries to understand me, unlike my father who always thinks he’s right. i cant even wear dresses or skirts because all he does is tell me how ridiculous i look and how i should be skinny like every other girl, and every time he tells me that all i do is just ignore him but when i come home, i just want to vomit until all i see is blood. i’ve stopped eating for weeks one time because of this, im too afraid to even wear anything beside jumpers because it’ll reveal what my body type is. i hate how i cant even like myself, some times i feel like i should start cutting myself or try to kill myself again because whatever i do, it’s wrong to him, maybe if i die he’ll think i did something right. what i did right was not exist isn’t it? i dont want to though because i have such good friends on here and i dont want to leave them. my friends are the one of the only few reasons i even am here anymore, if it wasn’t for them i wouldn’t even bother. i would probably just cry and hope the next day i get run over or something like that.  my father also always complains about how im doing a stupid hobby and i wont get anything out of drawing and sometimes calls me a mistake because i dont want to have a “real” job like everyone else in out family, but guess what idiot, drawing is a real job and one day i will prove it to him that this isn’t some stupid hobby, but now this has also taken a toll on my art and confidence to post any of it, im too scared to post my art because im afraid people just think it’s stupid or im annoying them by posting too much or too little.  i haven’t gotten many complaints about it but every time i post anything i overthink and worry for a while hoping they wont hate it. so far i think i’ve been getting better managing the anxiety of it but another thing that worries me is the thought people might get angry of me drawing 4 all the time.  the reason why i draw 4 so much is because she’s sort of like a comfort character to me, she was made out of my feelings and was a persona for a short amount of time, i put a lot of myself into her and i love drawing her but i worry people will get bored of seeing her all the time, so thats why i might stop posting content for a bit. 4 is something special to me, whenever i get upset or feel happy, i feel like she’s making me feel happy, it sounds stupid but 4 has helped me overcome many of my bad thoughts and feelings, she’s also one of the reasons im still trying to be happy. thats the reason why i draw her so much. and i wont stop to draw her, and im sorry if you dont like to see her so much but i will not stop to do so, if it bothers you that much please unfollow me. im so sorry i rambled for so long thank you for reading and i love you ((also to devon and soapy and mel, if you’ve read up to here, i love you guys with all my heart i love you too much thank you))  💕

[johnny-and-dora]

like a comet pulled from orbit

"She files the memory away in the new mental folder she’s been curating since last night, affectionately labelled ‘HUGE, RIDICULOUSLY OBVIOUS CLUES THAT JAKE IS YOUR SOULMATE’, and shifts her attention back to him."

or, a soulmate au where jake's known for his whole life & amy's known since yesterday, with two grand heartfelt speeches for good measure. 

read on ao3

-

before we begin: this one-shot takes place in a universe where your soulmates name is written somewhere on you in their handwriting, except jake's handwriting is so goddamn unreadable that amy manages to make it all the way to five years at the nine-nine without realising that her soulmate has been sat across from her this entire time. shenanigans ensue, and this is result. i hope you enjoy!

thank you to @startofamoment & @amyscascadingtabs for their wonderful endless support and to @elsaclack because i haven’t stopped thinking about this au since she posted hers <3

-

“I had this great big plan, y’know.” He says, deliberately averting her gaze – Amy furrows her brow, adjusting her slumped over position on his old, beat up couch, discards the cushion she’s been hugging to her stomach as some kind of makeshift anchor.

The maelstrom of confusion, anger and pure, unadulterated anxiety that has been rearing its ugly head deep in her gut since yesterday has quietly subsided in the intimate setting of his crappy, cozy, lowly lit Cobblestank apartment – she supposes that’s why she’s here, seeing as she wasn’t able to come up with a valid reason on the drive over, or even in the ten minutes she spent standing outside his door, poised ready to knock.

If there’s anyone who always knows exactly how to calm her down, it’s frustratingly, somehow, him.

(“Detective’s intuition, Santiago.” He’d winked, a lifetime ago when she’d once asked - handed her coffee after making her laugh for the first time in about three days, and she’d pretended to be impressed by his use of the word ‘intuition’.)

She files the memory away in the new mental folder she’s been curating since last night, affectionately labelled ‘HUGE, RIDICULOUSLY OBVIOUS CLUES THAT JAKE IS YOUR SOULMATE’, and shifts her attention back to him.

“What?”

“For telling you. I’d, um, been working on it for a while.” Jake’s hands are clenched and his leg is jostling up and down at a hundred miles an hour when it clicks, and she feels her heart skip a beat.

In truth, he doesn’t need to say anything – he’s apologised probably at least twenty times in the past day, most of them in the eight minutes that have passed since she arrived unannounced, unexpected really to the both of them, at his door. God knows he’s probably forgiven already if her heart has any say in the matter, even if she’s reluctant to tell him that.

But here he suddenly is, practically ablaze with all this brilliant, blinding energy, willing to put his heart out on the line for her – and Amy feels any semblance of protest quickly die in her throat.

“Yeah?” She prompts, gentle enough for it to be vaguely unfamiliar territory compared to their usual rapport. Her hand ghosts over his like an unspoken question before their fingers, almost by design, interweave.

It’s not intimate, exactly, barely even romantic - but he squeezes gently, once, twice, and something in the air shifts.

“I…I was gonna take you to the roof. Our roof, I mean, the roof.” He braves a fleeting glance at her and she tilts her head up to firmly hold it – there’s trepidation and question reflected in his eyes, but there’s also such reverence there, something so powerful that Amy can scarcely remember how to breathe.

The corner of his mouth immediately twitches upwards at the flush of her face, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to her, and she fights the urge to roll her eyes.

“…I was going to give this grand heartfelt speech where I basically confess my undying love for you, and tell you that we’re soulmates, and then beg you to not kill me for not telling you sooner. And then you were, er, going to forgive me and we would kiss and then ride off into the sunset.” He’s smiling fully now, all the radiance of the goddamn sun as per usual, and she can’t help but tease him.

“Ride off into the sunset?”

“Yeah, like the end of every old romantic movie ever.” He makes a sweeping, dismissive gesture with his free hand. “And everything was gonna be, y’know. Okay.” His voice falters, trips up a bit on the last word – his hand slips out of hers as they’re reminded of the mess – okay, shitstorm, that they’ve found themselves entangled up in.

Anxiety churns in her stomach as she agonises over how she’s supposed to feel – it was anger yesterday, but that feels wrong here. There’s just confusion and uncertainty and yes, desire, achingly inevitable desire; she has no idea what to act upon, no how-to-guide, no forum thread for “so your best friend has been secretly your soulmate this whole time.” (She checked). Amy has no idea what to do.

All because of the stupid universe and it’s stupid cosmic matchmaking - something she didn’t even know if she believed in until a few hours ago, something she’s been decidedly against for almost three decades.

All she is certain of now is that whatever choice lead her here, whatever lead her to him, is the one and only decision she’s allowing the universe to make for her.

(Despite whatever thread of fate they both followed to end up here, Amy maintains that what she says next - and the perfectly ordinary miracle that happens after - happens completely of her own volition.)

“Do the speech.”

“Uh, what?”

“I want to hear it. This grand heartfelt speech.” She says, taking far too much enjoyment out of the sheer panic that instantly flashes across his face.

“Uh, well, it was more of an abstract concept. And I haven’t actually practised anywhere other than the shower, and a lot of it was tied in to the whole roof thing so I don’t actually know if it’ll work here-“

“Do the speech, Peralta.”

“Okay. Okay. Here we go.” He holds a hand up in mock surrender, takes a deep breath, lets his fingers drum absentmindedly on the arm of the couch before he shifts his position to face her.

She crosses her arms expectantly, trying to subdue her smile or at least dial it down a few notches so she doesn’t give away just how hopelessly into him she really is.

“Amy. Santiago. Amy Santiago. The woman I am speaking to, right now.”

“Stop stalling.”

“Okay. So, you’re probably wondering why I brought you to this random rooftop in the middle of Brooklyn.” He grins like the little shit he is, and she resolves with ironclad determination not to let him get away that easily. “And this is where you say ‘Yes, I am, Jake, and I must say how handsome you look today.’”

“This is not a call and response thing.” Amy says, in the authoritative tone she reserves for him – he gives her a playful salute in response. It’s standard practise, familiar, and for a moment she wonders if that’s all she’s ever going to get.

“Noted. And I would say “’Thank you Amy, but this isn’t about me. It’s actually about us.’” His grin falters a little, now - she unfolds her arms, allowing him the time and space to say what he needs to, gently encouraging him to continue.

“I really like you. Like, really really like you. Like, I’m obsessed with how shiny your hair is and the way you scrunch up your nose when you’re annoyed and the way your eyes get all big and excited whenever you figure something out. You’re brilliant and beautiful and I’ve basically spent the last five years we’ve known each other trying to work up the courage to tell you that.”

He’s rambling at a pace she’s spent the last few years tripping over herself trying to catch up to - but she drinks every single word in anyway, like she’s scrambling for an oasis in the empty, unforgiving sands of a desert. 

This is new; Amy can feel her resolve practically melting away, like he’s stripping down every last layer of her defences.

Like Monopoly and getting more felony arrests than her, he’s irritatingly good at it.

“And this is where I would ask you out, except you would probably say no, not because you’re not hopelessly in love with me – but because we’re not cosmically bound together or whatever.” He swallows thickly, clearly nervous, and she inches closer to him with protective instinct, hand finding its way to the small of his back.

“And I would say yeah, that’s fair, except maybe actually it might be my unintelligible handwriting that you have scrawled on your ribcage, and that I’m really sorry about all the inconvenience that has caused you.”

“And then I would say…Amy, we are soulmates. And I’ve known that for a really long time, and I’m a huge gigantic idiot for not telling you sooner. I was just…scared. By the time I realised that you just couldn’t tell it was me, you were already yelling at me for spilling orange soda on your arrest report and I just…figured you’d rather not know.”

Her heart fragments and splints a little at that, enough for any remaining anger or notions of injustice raging in the depths of her gut to be very easily extinguished.

“Jake…”

“Nah, you said it wasn’t a call and response thing, remember?” He tries to say it lightly but the usual humour colouring his voice is notably absent, so he just takes a deep breath and continues, seemingly (how can he be?) unaware of how she is certain that her heart is somehow his.

“Anyway, I was terrified that if you found out you were just going to be…disappointed. And I know it’s not the same, but I just kept thinking about my dad leaving and how I was so scared that you’d leave too, if you knew.”

Amy recalls a stakeout from a year or so ago, an impassioned exchange of fuck you, universe between sips of coffee because she’s powerless to find hers and his dad left anyway, so what’s the point, and it makes sense – as much as she wants to strangle him for not telling her then, it makes sense.

“It just got more and more difficult to bring up, y’know? Like, by the way, we’re soulmates, can you pass me that case file?” She nods in understanding, empathy twisting in her chest against her steadily increasing heart rate – when he finally looks at her again, it’s overpowering, like everything in the air is charged, magnified, primed ready to explode.

“The thing is, I’m…I’m really into you.” He pauses, allowing the tiniest, almost shy smile to cross his face, and pure, unadulterated affection flutters in her chest. “And I would really love it if we could…y’know. But you needed to know this first – actually, I guess, you needed to know this a long time ago.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, shame flickering in his features.

“I guess I just want you to know that I’m really, genuinely sorry. And I know you don’t know how to feel about soulmates, and I get it if you don’t feel the same about me but…I think we could have something really amazing. The end.”

There’s a beat or two of horrible, horrible silence before she remembers that she’s meant to say something back - in her defence, it was a very good speech.

“…You didn’t beg me not to kill you.” She teases lightly, but lets her face soften when she clocks his questioning gaze and realises he needs more, of course, infinitely more. “That was…very nice.”

Nice couldn’t even begin to do it justice, but in the moment she doesn’t have the words to convey how much it means, suddenly shy, suddenly woefully unprepared in the face of such unexpected openness and vulnerability. He’s never going to stop surprising her.

“…Would it have worked?”

“I think…at first, I would have been pretty mad at you. Like I think choosing the roof was a risk, if a very sweet gesture, because I might’ve thrown you off it.” His face crumples a little and she winces, not meaning to cause him any more emotional turmoil than she apparently unknowingly has for the last four years.

Really, when she visualises the scene, she has no idea how she would actually react – all she knows is now, the feeling of a spark lighting inside her and also vaguely the feeling of her insides turning upside down. 

She fights the urge to ask for fifteen minutes with her laptop so she can at least outline all she wants to say.

“But…I would also know that you meant it. That you meant all of it, and that you didn’t mean for this all to become the huge gigantic mess that it is.” She gestures widely and openly to signify the huge gigantic mess, and his eyebrows quirk up with endearment.

“So I would forgive you.” She says it with certainty she didn’t know she had until she tripped over it on her tongue – it hangs in the air, somehow unfinished, and she feels a smile blossom over her face as she brushes her shoulder up against his; she holds his gaze for a second before continuing.

“…And then I would probably kiss you.” Amy tries to say it with some boldness, at least – she counts at least fifty different emotions flicker across his face at once before they form an almost smug grin, which makes her laugh enough to almost distract her from the swarm of butterflies currently occupying her stomach.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Probably. If you weren’t dangling from the roof at this point.” She grins and he laughs a little, shaking his head, and then-

And then, silence. Tantalising, breathless silence, silence that’s impossibly alive with endless, infinite potential, brooding like a thunderstorm. When she’s brave enough to look at him he’s staring at her with such heat it feels like she might spontaneously combust, right here in his living room. She bites her lip, barely aware of anything other than blood faintly pumping in her ears.

“Amy?”

“Mmm?”

“Can we…can we stop talking in hypotheticals for a second and can I say that I’m sorry and can you forgive me and then maybe can we kiss?” They’re so close now, intimate enough that she can almost feel the hitch in his breath as he nervously poses the question.

“I’ll think about it.” She’s using the last of her bravado, the very last dredges of her willpower not to lean over and kiss him – except his eyes keep darting down to her lips and she can practically feel her skin bristling, practically incandescent with white-hot desire as she tucks her hair behind her ears and they’ve suffered enough, haven’t they?

So when he leans to tentatively a kiss to her lips she instantly deepens it, overwhelmed by the intense, rapid rhythms of her pulse at his touch, at his hands sweeping down her spine and hers in his hair and wow. It’s fervent and almost desperate at first but soon slows to tenderness as they both seem to realise that they have all the time in the world.

She feels him smile against her lips in the moment before they break apart and she dares him to ruin the moment with a ridiculous joke, but all he does is expel a sigh of relief, like a man deprived of oxygen for months. She knows the feeling.

“Wow.” She murmurs, lightheaded, forehead pressed against his, eyes still closed. When they finally flutter open to meet with his it’s frustratingly clear that they were made to do this; the part of her that’s been resolutely against the universe pairing people together for the best part of thirty years is disgruntled to be proved wrong so swiftly and effortlessly.

But mostly, she’s happy. The way that Jake looks at her makes her feel treasured and desired and revered in a way that no-one else ever has, and she is so ridiculously, unbelievably, deliriously happy.

“You. You are just…you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” It’s barely a whisper but it sets her alight – he’s breathless, tone dripping with pure, unbridled sincerity, and it’s enough.

He’s forgiven, because of course he is – really, he was forgiven long before she stepped past the threshold of his apartment, but she’s not going to be the one to tell him that if he’s going to kiss her like that and say lines like that afterwards.

She wants to say something, anything moderately affirming or even just coherent back, but for the first time in a very long time, Amy Santiago is rendered completely and utterly speechless.

So instead, she just kisses him again.

***

She gets around to telling him later, when the initial rush of adrenaline has faded into quiet embers of content joy and she can finally string a semi-coherent sentence together. Amy can’t really tell how much time has passed since, only that it is later, later, later, that moonlight is spilling through the gap in his curtains in the same way that dusty orange twilight was when she first arrived here, and yet she has absolutely no desire to leave.

Her soft grey linen hoodie lies on the arm of the couch and his left sock is discarded on the floor from when she’d traced her name etched in perfect, neat cursive just above his ankle and he’d quipped some line about finally being able to wear flip flops to work again without fear of discovery.

They’ve been talking, mostly, laughing in a way that is warmly familiar, even if the way their hands are intertwined isn’t – she has this wonderful feeling that it will be, in time.

“You really don’t mind that I didn’t tell you?” Jake has asked her some variant of this question roughly every ten minutes, seemingly struck by disbelief that he isn’t dangling from a roof at this very moment – it’s only now, though, that she realises she has the right to some grand speech of her own, even if she’s mildly disappointed that she can’t practise first.

Some things just can’t be planned, much to her horror – but to be fair, she never could have planned any of this, and she thinks it’s reasonable to say that it ended up all working out.  

“Well, I’m not…happy about it. Part of me definitely wishes that you’d just told me, because I absolutely had the right to know after decades of torturing myself over it.” She gives him a pointed stare that lasts almost a second before her resolve completely dissipates at his puppy-dog gaze.

“But the rest of me is actually glad I didn’t know.” His eyebrows shoot up in almost comic confusion, and she laughs lightly, joy practically bubbling in her chest. She puts a hand over his heart and takes the time to choose her next words carefully, delicately, in a way that she hopes will tell him that she really means them.

“Well, the way I see it….this way I get to choose you. This way, I get to be with you because you’re brilliant, and sweet, and you make me laugh. Not just because your name is written in appallingly bad handwriting on my ribcage.”

“Huh. I guess I never really thought about it like that.” He goes somewhere else for a second; there’s that thoughtful far-away look where she can practically see seventeen different trains of thought pinging off his brain like a cell tower. 

When he focuses back on her it’s with unbridled affection as if he’s only just realising all the nice things she said about him, and she smiles.

“Yeah, well…I’ve been thinking about this a lot, lately. And I guess…I choose you. Not because I feel like I should, or because the universe tells me I’m supposed to. Because I want to. Because I know that you’re the right person for me.” Amy’s not sure she’s ever said anything with more conviction in her life  – the momentum behind her words absolutely terrifies her, but it’s thrilling too, feeling this much for one person all at once.

He’s quiet, for once – by the low light of his cheap lamp, she might even be able to make out the ghost of blush lightly colouring his face, and she thinks, point to Santiago. Not that she’s keeping score. (They’re even.)

“Only you would find a way to argue for free will even after all this. You are unbelievable.” The last word is said in a tone of complete and utter awe and admiration that it sweeps her off her feet – she reaches out to cup his face and press a long, drawn-out lazy kiss to his lips that feels so natural it’s like they’ve been doing this for years. He starts to press kisses that trace down her neck and collarbone, easily shifting her entire world on its axis; it’s dizzying.

Amy’s so, unbelievably glad that if she was going to fall for anyone, it had to be her soulmate – and yet, she somehow feels sure that that this was always going to happen anyway, regardless of whatever name she had inked on her skin.

In this life and any other, she was always going to choose him.

“I choose you too, by the way.” He mumbles, a little breathless, looking up at her like she’s the only thing that matters. “I just thought that was implied.”

She says a begrudging, silent thank you to the universe – in the moonlit sky pouring through the crack in the curtains, the stars catch a glimpse of them and smile.

[janiedean]

Did you see that post saying Reylos harassed Kelly/John/Oscar with 30k+ notes? Like seriously, you've had some of the biggest Finnpoe campaigners in the Reylo fandom, Reylos were the original Rose and KMT stans, Reylos wanted Finn to lead a stormtrooper rebellion, and it's like that's been completely rewritten and everyone is supporting that narrative now. Somehow Reylos are being framed as harassers and the reason behind Finnpoe not being canon or Finn having a diminished role in the trilogy

I haven’t tho I can’t wait to see it so I can block OP unless I already did, but... yeah. like, it’s not like every fandom doesn’t have assholes but as someone who didn’t ship it before tlj and watched the entire shitstorm go down since tfa came out......... reylo shippers were the punching bag of this fandom since the day tfa came out, I never heard of any of them harassing oscar who’s not even on SM, john’s harassment was 90% from old school idiotic people who thought sw couldn’t have black leads and the KMT harassment was 50% idiotic fanboys and 50% the tumblr crowd and I fucking remember that happening in real time so people could really just stop lying because reylo shippers harassing KMT is just nonsense and finnpoe not being canon is because disney won’t do that ever NOT BECAUSE REYLOS who would have everything to gain from that ship being canon anyway lkglkjs also finn’s role in tlj was not diminished and in tros it was a joke same as poe’s retconned racist storyline was but like... that’s on the writers not on the people who didn’t even care about the trio like it’s tiring, it’s been years, people need to stop clowning on this matter and just admit that this fandom has never not been a toxic wasteland

[tevivinter]

Scars

I wanted to write about Marel and Dorian’s first kiss, since it happened differently in my head. That was supposed to be a drabble but then it got past 2k words. :’D

Anyway, story takes place shortly after Dorian’s personal quest. Enjoy a little angst and fluff. ——— Marel sat on a tree stump, quietly observing the camp surroundings. It was fairly easy to sleep in the Hinterlands, except for the occasional wolfs preying around. Still, it was a minor problem compared to other areas such as Fallowmire, where dead people crawled out of nowhere to attack them. Stormcoast also had its problems for obvious reasons. The elf sighed, finally deciding to brush his hair aside and leave his left eye exposed. He was so used to cover it by now, up to the point that seeing with both eyes felt a little strange. He leaned back a little and enjoyed the gentle night breeze on his cheeks, eyes slowly closing as he attempted to relax. Nothing but the sound of crickets and- Footsteps. Marel grabbed his greatsword as fast as possible and stood up, turning his body to see who approached. As someone used to make night watches for the clan, he had honed his reflexes to react almost instantly in any situation. His arms were already moving to swing his sword - that is, until he actually realized who was there. "Dorian," Marel mumbled, his expression quickly changing from shock to annoyance, furrowing brows at the other man. "What the hell?! I could have killed you!" "Yes, remind me not to sneak on you again. I thought you were falling asleep, which is clearly not the case." Dorian approached the elf as he put his weapon down. Marel sat on the grass, leaving the greatsword by his side. "I don't fall asleep in my shifts," he grumbled while looking at the hills straight ahead. The mage smirked. "I can see that." He strolled closer. "Can I join you?"

"Sure." Marel glanced at the man, his voice filled with curiosity. "Can't sleep?" Dorian took a seat next to him. Despite the darkness around them, the subtle moonlight was enough to reveal a tired look on his face. "Well, no. These bedrolls are dreadful." Marel chuckled. There was something funny about the mage's complaints- maybe the fact that he usually exaggerated things. "They are actually not that bad," he shrugged. "Not if you like to sleep on stone," Dorian promptly countered. The elf's smile grew a little wider. "And I thought I complained a lot." He expected another answer, but there was silence instead. His eyes gazed back at Dorian, and oddly enough, he seemed surprised at something. Marel furrowed brows in confusion. "What?" "Nothing," Dorian shook his head. "It's just- rare to see you like this." It took Marel a few seconds to realize his left eye was still exposed- and so were his scars. They were usually covered for a reason, so that people wouldn't stare at him. He wondered how long Dorian had been doing that, feeling a rush of self consciousness hit his mind. Shit. Marel quickly covered his eye again. Dorian wasn't supposed to see that. His heart and mind began to race together. "Fuck. Just- forget you saw that." Dorian noticed the way Marel's muscles stiffened. He was completely at ease a few seconds ago, and it just took one comment to screw things up. It was like suddenly a stone wall stood between them. The elf hugged his knees, jaw slightly clenched as he looked ahead. "Did I say something wrong?" Dorian asked, instantly regretting his own words. "If that's the case, I apologize." "Don't," his tone was a little harsher than intended. A short pause followed. Marel sighed, rubbing his temple for a bit. That was a disaster. "It's not your fault." "Alright." Dorian felt more relieved at that. Still, he wanted to know what bothered him so much. It was excruciating to see Marel so guarded, after all, the elf had helped him more than anyone in the South until now. It felt only right to return the favor. "If there's anything you wish to talk about, I'm here." "You wanna know why I cover my eye, right?" Marel's bluntness, despite common, still surprised the mage sometimes. He looked at Dorian, who slowly nodded in response. "You don't need to answer though. I'm merely curious," he added. "It's fine." Marel let go of his knees, leaning his arms back instead. Both his hands touched the grass beneath them. It was a familiar texture, one that made him relax a little. "There are two reasons. First one is that I don't see really well with my left eye. Blurred vision and all." Dorian crossed his legs, appearing to be drawn into their conversation. "Was it always like that?" "No. It happened around six years ago." Marel stopped talking for a moment. Besides his clan, he actually never told anyone about that. It felt too personal to share. Not even Bull or Josephine, his other closest friends, knew about it. Strangely enough, it didn't feel like such a big deal with Dorian. "My father became very ill one day,” he sighed, “and we needed a rare herb to cure his poisoning. There weren’t any in our camp, so we had to search around the nearest city. The Keeper said a scout would go at first light. My father didn't have that time.” “So you went there,” Dorian guessed, trying to picture the whole scenario in his mind. “Yeah. Me and my sister.” Marel crossed legs as well. “Her name is Ghilana by the way. We sneaked out in the middle of night.” Memories started to flash into his mind. “It was safe for a while. There had been some animals and a few people on the way but they didn’t see us. The herb was pretty close to the city walls. I covered for Ghilana as she started to gather it.” “I saw a couple guards coming,” Marel recalled, “and we tried to hide. They found us anyway. We explained the reason we went there. I thought we could leave, but they... kept staring at Ghilana. In a really disgusting way.” He unconsciously clenched his fists. “They said we were free to go as long as she agreed to spend some time with them. I said fuck you and that was the beginning of a shitstorm. We all fought until they managed to hold me down." Dorian swallowed heavily. His throat felt dry. "Marel…" "They started to cut my face with a knife," the elf said, his gaze pinned to the grass. Silence followed. He remembered the pain way too clearly, after all, those were deep cuts. Trying to squirm out made things even worse. The only option was enduring it until Ghilana managed to defeat the guards. Marel lightly touched his scars, wearing a distant look on his face. “I went through it all without making a sound." His voice sounded hoarse. "Didn’t want her to know how much I suffered.” Dorian couldn't stand seeing him like that. One could only wonder how terrible that night was. It took him a moment to search for the right words to say. “...You were brave, Marel. Still are, in fact.” He touched the elf’s right shoulder in hopes of giving him some reassurance.  Marel couldn’t help but glance at him. He sighed, trying to forget those damned memories. "It's in the past. No need to comfort me." Dorian nodded, moving his hand away. “You said there were two reasons. What’s the second one?” “The scars are ugly,” Marel shrugged. “That’s pretty obvious.” Everyone knew Marel didn't care for appearances. He always kept his hair somewhat messy and wore whatever armor he found, valuing usability over good looks. To hear him saying something like that… it was somehow heartbreaking. Even now, the elf acted like it didn't matter. But Dorian had seen through it. He saw the way Marel narrowed his eyes, unspoken sadness lingering on them. He saw- how vulnerable he was, despite everything. Marel was self conscious after all. “You really don’t give yourself much credit," Dorian said. “Don't flatter me, Dorian.” The elf rolled his eyes. He hated to hear those kinds of things. There was nothing worse than meaningless words. “I’m only being honest. You should be too.” Dorian sighed. “I am. You’re way better looking than you think, I can assure.” That one compliment made Marel’s heart race in a stupid way. He simply wasn’t able to look at Dorian’s eyes- not with the moonlight shining on them like that. It made him look beautiful, almost ethereal in a way. His pretty words weren’t helping either. Fenedhis, only the Creators knew how much he wanted that man. Still, he fought against it. Firstly because it was silly to presume Dorian would want him as well. The safest choice was to remain friends, but that certainly didn’t mean it was the easiest. He swallowed, trying to recompose himself. “You- barely saw my scars.” Marel stammered a little, silently cursing himself for being such an idiot. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew.” “Well, in that case, I would like to see them. Properly this time.” Dorian was eager to make the elf believe in him. He was also the most stubborn between the two of them, so that discussion was far from over. “Just so you know I’m telling the truth.” That man would be the death of him. Marel took a deep breath, not believing in what he was about to say. “Fine,” he mumbled, turning his face to see Dorian again. He couldn't understand the point of that. He was about to complain more- until a hand moved towards his face. The elf stood speechless, eyes open wide as the other man carefully brushed his hair away. It felt terribly intimate, and yet Marel just wanted to lean for his touch. Instead he swallowed, more worried about Dorian’s reaction than anything else. The next few seconds of silence felt like endless torture. He watched the mage intently, still as stone, holding his breath after feeling fingertips touch his skin. Dorian was tracing his scars. Slowly and carefully, taking his time to memorize them and also enjoying the chance to look at Marel’s whole face. That made the elf’s heart hammer inside his chest and his mind buzz in anticipation. “It seems I was right after all,” Dorian stated. “You are beautiful.” Marel stared at those grey eyes, and in that moment he knew the mage was telling the truth. That he wasn’t making up something just to make him feel better. No one ever said that to him, at least not genuinely. But Dorian? He meant every single word Tears brimmed over Marel’s eyes. He blinked them back, his brain slowly remembering how to speak again. “You mean it,” he said breathlessly. Dorian smiled a little.  “Of course I do.” Yet another moment of silence. This time, however, Marel couldn't look away - didn't want to. He had spent too long in denial, trying to drown his own feelings purely by fear of rejection. It never crossed his mind that Dorian would look at him like that, but he did. The following moments happened fast. Marel leaned closer, and the next thing he knew is that they were kissing, feeling hands on his hair and neck. Each touch sent shivers down his spine. He had waited so long for that. What began with a soft peck quickly turned into a passionate kiss. Still, both of them took their time- Marel grabbed Dorian’s shoulders, slowly pulling him so the distance between them was even smaller. It was easily the most intoxicating kiss he ever had, because not once he ceased to want for more. Marel opened his eyes again when Dorian pulled back, panting as he recovered his own breath. "I have to admit, that was a bit unexpected." Although surprised, the mage smirked. He was still catching his breath. "A good surprise nonetheless." "Yeah." Marel distanced himself a little so that he could actually process what just happened. "I… wanted to do that for a long time now." Dorian arched his brows. "Now that's intriguing." "What?" Marel asked, sounding genuinely confused. "What, you say?" The mage repeated. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that. "Marel, I've been flirting with you for months." Oh. The elf stood silent for a moment, his cheeks flushing from complete embarrassment. He felt like a total idiot for being so clueless. "Fuck," was all he managed to say. "I… didn't notice." “Clearly.” Dorian shook his head, laughing a little. The sound of it was oddly comforting. "You are truly something else." "Yeah, right." Marel rolled eyes, still feeling his face burn. He wasn't sure if that was a compliment - probably yes - but he was done feeling stupid for the night. Plus, his body was already craving for a good night sleep. They had a long day after all. "Okay, I need to sleep," he said bluntly. "Your watch is next." Dorian nodded, letting out a heavy sigh. "Don't tell me. I'll probably die of boredom here." Marel's lips twitched into a smirk. "Yeah. Good luck with that." It was the mage's turn to roll eyes. "Yes, go ahead and laugh at my misery," he said dramatically. "I probably deserve it-" He stopped talking when Marel kissed his cheek. Yet another unexpected action that left him speechless for a moment. "Goodnight, Dorian." And so he returned to his tent. Dorian resisted the urge to look back, because no way he would let the elf see that he was caught off guard. Marel could be a little shit sometimes and would certainly tease him for it. He cleared his throat, straightening his posture while focusing on the camp's surroundings. He couldn't help but smile, though.

[phcking-detective]

5. Bad Habits

Fic Title: First Blood

Rating: E

Length: 5/33 chapters, ~128k

Tags: Slow Burn, Idiots to Lovers, Trans Character (gavin), Autistic / Asexual / Non-binary Character (nines), BDSM, learning to use good etiquette and safe words, Dom Nines / Sub Gavin, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Tags: Gavin acts like a sleazy corrupt asshole to get another sleazy corrupt asshole to drop his guard, (it’s kind of hot), banter, so much banter in this one, Nines says Creepy Things, dumb idiots flirting without realizing they’re flirting, Nines saves pictures of Gavin’s dumb cute face when he laughs

Link on AO3

***

Senator McAshlynn Dernham [CEO: Synergy Paradigm] acquiesces to an interview with Detective Reed, but his heartbeat picks up to ninety-one BPM when Nines steps into his office as well.

Downtown view, fifty-second floor. Eight hundred and sixty-five square feet--nearly a hundred more than Reed's apartment. Minimalist furniture, a display of signed sports balls, and a jade paperweight shaped like a turtle valued at over four thousand dollars.

It would make an excellent bludgeoning tool.

"Detective Reed." Senator McAshlynn stands up from his desk and meets Reed halfway in the room. "Come in, have a seat."

They shake hands. Reed exerts an estimated fifty-six pounds of pressure on the handshake. Senator McAshlynn's grip strength does not exceed thirty pounds. He tries to hide a grimace, but the one facial expression Nines can reliably detect is pain.

"Sit down, sit down. What can I do for you, detective?"

Nines is not offered a greeting or a seat. It would hurt all zero of his feelings, except no talking and no physical contact is how he prefers to interact with humans. He stands behind Reed while the detective sprawls out in the offered chair.

"Just have a couple of financial questions for you, Mr. McAshlynn," Reed says.

"Oh no, McAshlynn isn't my last name," Senator McAshlynn replies. He grips the back of his chair with an estimated thirty-two pounds of strength. "Senator McAshlynn is my first name, both of them. My last name is Dernham."

"Right."

Detective Reed performed fairly extensive research on Senator Ashlynn Dernham (limited as he is by his lack of neural connection to the internet) before their arrival. Despite being fully aware of the not-senator's two first names situation, he lets the silence drag on for thirty-six seconds before clicking his tongue and continuing.

"I only need to confirm a few things about Mr. Russell's finances, and then we'll go."

Senator McAshlynn's BPM ticks up to ninety-four. "I'm not sure why that would interest you or be relevant to me. Russell personally made those investments with money given directly to him by his … investors. Although he did found this company, I can assure you, Synergy Paradigms remained completely uninvolved and unaware of--"

"Yeah, yeah." Detective Reed waves his hand. "Relax, I'm not here to bust your balls, and I don't care. I just gotta make sure Russell really did have plenty of motive to commit suicide."

"Is there something questionable about shooting himself in the head?" Senator McAshlynn asks.

Reed shrugs. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through a takeout ordering app. Nines can hear the other human begin to grind his teeth, and pinpoint the exact moment he begins inhaling in order to speak again. Even with his limited human senses, Detective Reed somehow senses this precise moment as well.

"Look, the media's making this into a big shitstorm out there, all right?" he says. "Didn't think I needed to tell you that. I just wanna make sure I'm covering my own ass, and I get that you want to do the same. No problem. Like I said, you answer some questions about <I>his</i> finances, and we leave."

Senator McAshlynn considers. "All right. I may be able to do that."

"Cool. Like I said, I'm not here to bust your balls." Reed's reflection in the wall-to-ceiling windows in front of him gives a smile even Nines can recognize as sleazy. "Guy's already dead. If you work with me here, I don't mind working with you."

Senator McAshlynn's BPM begins to fall, and he smiles back at Reed. "I'm always happy to assist the DPD, but. As you said, Russel is already dead. I'm not sure what's left for you to work with."

"Mmm." Reed puts his phone away and tilts back in the chair until the back of it rests against Nines' abdomen. "Well, my partner here has done some digging into Russell's finances. Did you know his bank account has been hemorrhaging money this last month?"

"I was not aware of that, no."

"Yep. And here's the really interesting part--he pinged the IP of some other android messing around in there."

That is so inaccurate Nines almost corrects him on sheer principle. He deactivates his voice box though, both to halt that immediate impulse and to prevent interrupting in a conversation that clearly won't involve him.

"Again, I'm not sure how that's relevant to this company," Senator McAshlynn says.

Reed shrugs. "Doesn't matter. You and I both know the media is going to drag Russell's name through the mud and into the spotlight for as long as they can milk it--and they're going to keep mentioning Synergy Paradigms while they do it. Makes for a better story."

"Well, I would certainly like to avoid that." Senator McAshlynn smiles at him again. The action barely involves his lips. "I don't suppose you know an especially talented PR agent?"

"I know large sums of missing money plus a mysterious android equals a damn good story," Reed replies. "So if there's anything you know about that, now's a good time to let me know."

"Is it?"

"I'm not looking to arrest anyone in a suicide. And if some unsavory shit comes up--you know, the kind that would stay on the ten'o'clock for the next month--maybe my partner here deletes some stuff. Maybe I let you know about it, so you get some closure on your dear friend's death."

Senator McAshlynn stays silent as he considers it. Detective Reed lets his chair drop back down to the floor with a loud thunk in the quiet room.

"But in another minute now, I'm gonna go interview that reporter who broke the story," he says with a smile that only serves to show his teeth. "So like I said. Right now is a good time to start working with me."

Senator McAshlynn takes a seat. "What can I do for you, detective?"

Nines saves the smile Reed gave to his most encrypted folder. It shares several points of similarity to his own facial expression categorized as [hostilesmile-murder]. He places the file next to the zoomed view of Gavin's nipples he attempted to delete two weeks earlier.

"Do you know where Russell's money disappeared to this last month?" Detective Reed asks.

Senator McAshlynn sighs. "No. If Russell got into escorts or red ice, I never saw any of it. And even if he did, there's no reason for his indiscretions to drag this company down with him."

"Sure," Reed says. "My partner and I are going to do some digging. See what we find."

"I don't suppose you could be persuaded to … take a holiday?" Senator McAshlynn asks.

Reed clicks his tongue. "Not how this works. And I might not know any PR agents, but I have heard it's better to get ahead of stories before they break. Know what shit stinks in your own house 'n all."

"I might like to know what the hell Russell was doing," Senator McAshlynn admits. "But maybe I'd like it better if no one knew. If we all just, dropped this whole matter?"

"Mmm."

Reed takes his phone back out and takes his time choosing from the menu of the Chinese restaurant closest to the precinct. Nines adds a side of fried vegetables and rice to his order of Chicken Kung Pao (spicy).

While Gavin works at increasing the CEO's stress levels, Nines continues syncing with the smart desk. As soon as Senator McAshlynn rested his hands on its surface, the handprint scanner activated and unlocked the interface, although it stays resting on the set screensaver of mahogany wood.

Nines doesn't alter anything or open any files. He doesn't need to. Senator McAshlynn's calendar, contacts, and social media feeds are set up to sync automatically with all of his devices.

It's simple enough to copy the handprint from the scanner and convince the "smart" desk that he himself is one of those devices.

"Oh, yeah. See." Reed says when Senator McAshlynn begins tapping his twelve hundred dollar pen. "The money? Yeah, maybe that's old news. It was all a Ponzi scheme anyway. But the android …"

Reed lets out a long sigh and tips his seat back again.

"What android?" Senator McAshlynn snaps.

"The one messing around in Russell's finances," Reed says. "Traces of it in his loft too. Can't just let that go."

Senator McAshlynn lays both hands on either side of his desk. Human body language is as chaotic and individual as every human, but this gesture clearly reflects a threatened animal attempting to look bigger than it really is. The motion also places his right hand closer to the portion of the desk's touch screen devoted to summoning security.

Nines tells that particular program to begin an update. The entire smart desk will now need to be restarted in order for the program to function.

"And why not?"

Reed reaches up and taps backwards against Nines' chest. "Say something creepy."

"Jade is porous."

"What are you talking about?" Senator McAshlynn asks, very firmly maintaining eye contact only with Reed.

"Your paperweight would make an excellent bludgeoning tool, but jade is porous," Nines says. "The blood would absorb and stain. Useful for a murder itself, but a liability afterward."

"God, you never disappoint," Reed says as the other human's face pales. "They gave him all this info and programming on solving crimes without ever stopping to think about what reverse engineering means. Takes a special kind of hand to manage him."

Nines deactivates his voice box once more. The problem with custom-building a social module is that he can only learn from his environment. The second problem is that the only human he regularly interacts with is Gavin Reed.

[dialogue options: AVAILABLE]

:Yeah, I bet your hand is real special to you.:

 :I gave a special hand to your mom last night.:

 :You can catch these special hands in the parking lot.:

"Are you threatening me?" Senator McAshlynn demands.

His finger presses down on the incognito security alert. A dialogue box pops up on the table informing him of the necessary restart, ruining the illusion of real wood.

Reed scoffs while he scrambles to close the notification. "I don't care about you enough to do that. It's only the android we're after. Any LM one hundreds, PJ five or six hundreds, or WB five hundreds you seen around Russel?"

"LM—a personal assistant?" Senator McAshlynn looks up from his desk. "No, Russell didn't have one of those. I don't even know what the other two are."

"University lecturer and financial accountant."

Senator McAshlynn huffs. "No. And for the last time detective, this isn't relevant to me or my company."

"All right." Detective Reed stands up. "Thanks for your time, Mr. McAshlynn."

"It's Dernham. Please leave or I will have my security team escort you out," Mr. McAshlynn informs them.

"Two GJ five hundreds and a refurbished GS two hundred." Nines nods his head toward the desk. "Is that paperweight for sale?"

"Get out!"

***

"God that was great. You really fucking asked him if it was for sale."

Gavin is still so pleased about getting kicking out of Synergy Paradigm, he lets Nines control his truck from the passenger's seat. Nines keeps the speed a steady five miles over the limit like his partner prefers and passes him a pack of the regular, non-marijuana cigarettes he smokes while on duty.

"Did you get a picture of his face?"

Nines sends the file to his cellphone. Gavin checks it immediately when it dings, then shoots him a wide smile. Nines saves a picture of that too before he's aware of making the decision to do so. He now has fifty-four pictures of Gavin saved for purposes other than building a databank of facial expressions. Anything more than three is a pattern.

A habit.

"Anything else?" the detective asks. "Wait, if you fucked with his table, don't tell me. Anything you got from that is inadmissible in court, and if there's any chance you might get caught, don't do that shit anymore."

"If there is any chance I might get caught," Nines repeats back to him. "Hypothetically, what if Senator McAshlyn's cell phone--"

He tries to put the right amount of emphasis in his voice to imply air quotes. It is difficult to preconstruct which syllables to stress and in what order. Gavin stares blankly at him. He tries raising his volume by ten percent.

"His cell phone."

Gavin suddenly huffs and rolls his eyes. "Jesus, yeah, OK. If his cell phone did …?"

"Connected to his smart desk and automatically synced to his calendar, contacts, and social media feeds."

"And anyone looking into the like, syncing history or whatever, would confirm his cell phone was the only device to connect to his smart desk about ten minutes ago?"

"Correct."

"OK, hypothetically speaking," Gavin says. "If there's no chance of getting caught--and keep in mind that would mean our whole case could get thrown out and lots of lawyers and Fowler screaming about privacy violations and IA jumping on the chance to fuck over their very first android …"

"Understood."

"If there's no chance of getting caught, that shit is still a slippery fucking slope and you shouldn't risk it."

Nines stares at the human's face, trying to determine if he is being that aspect of [sarcastic] that is not meanly saying the opposite of what he really thinks, but is still saying the opposite in order to [cover his own ass].

"Anyway." Gavin clears his throat. "On a totally unrelated note, do you have a hunch about anything?"

"A hunch."

"Yeah. Like, a gut feeling you can't really explain to me in--"

"Oh."

Gavin clears his throat again.

"I do not believe Senator McAshlynn Dernham was close friends with Maverick Russell," Nines says. "I do not believe the two planned to meet with each other within the last two weeks or the next fortnight."

"You fucking had to say fortnight. Pull over, I have a dance I want to show you."

Nines locks the passenger door. "My 'gut instinct' is that Senator McAshlynn has in fact been distancing himself from the victim for several months now and likely thought Russell was a bad investor, desperate to be liked, and only got lucky mooching off of his co-founders' talents and his father's inheritance when founding Synergy Paradigms."

"That's all your gut instinct, huh?"

"Social media accounts are public knowledge, and I have the processing power to review literally everything Senator McAshlynn has ever made publicly available online. He has not been discreet about his feelings. That is my assessment of them."

"You remember what I said about staying out of my life?" Gavin asks.

"Yes, detective." Nines does not sigh, because that would be redundant. "I am not to access your medical history or background information."

"Just keep that in mind."

"I am affixing a permanent post-it note to my field of vision right now."

"Fuck off. Is there anything else I need to know about?"

Nines considers. "Do you need the video and audio I recorded?"

Gavin actually does sigh, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "What the fuck did you record?"

"Technically speaking, I am always recording."

"This whole fucking conversation is justifying every bit of my goddamn paranoia about androids, you know that, right?"

"Humans may also acquire go-pros."

"So you admit that's what you are."

"Do you wish for me to upload the video and audio recording of our walk through the interior of Synergy Paradigms to your terminal or not, detective?"

"Yeah, sure." Gavin takes a long drag of his cigarette while he thinks. "I mean, I was right fucking there with you though. I saw everything you did."

"True," Nines admits. "You did see everything I did, but you do not possess the ability to review that video with perfect recall. My hearing is also significantly more advanced than yours, and I recorded audio from humans on the first and second floors, as well as the fifty-first, fifty-second, and fifty-third, within an approximate three to five office radius."

Gavin nearly lets the cigarette drop from his open mouth. "Holy shit. Uhhh, yeah, sure. Fuckers in a company like that gotta be gossiping about what happened. Maybe we'll pick something up."

The majority of the audio is, in fact, gossip. Nines has already processed and reviewed it of course, but he is also aware his lack of a social module and general understanding of humans must necessarily limit his ability to determine the relevance of what he's heard.

Personally, he would declare it all irrelevant. "Petty gossip" does not even begin to describe how asinine and crude the humans' dialogue is. It's all about who has been fucking whom, who is climbing the corporate ladder, and who is fucking whom in order to climb the corporate ladder.

The entire experience of walking through one [1] human corporation has justified every bit of his disgust for humans.

Still, Nines will transfer the files to the detective's workplace terminal via direct connection once they arrive back at the precinct. So far, there is nothing currently illegal about his advanced hearing and "privacy violations." And technically, anything in plain sight or said within hearing of an officer may be admitted in court as evidence.

It just so happens that Nines's sight and hearing have a bit wider scope than current laws predicted.

Gavin works on nursing his cigarette down to a nub for the next several minutes without speaking. When he taps the backs of his knuckles against his window, Nines rolls it down for him. They're moving slowly enough through the city traffic for him to ash his cigarette out the window. The cold air whipping through puts a red flush on his face as he smokes and blows it out the window.

"But seriously," the human continues after a few minutes of quiet driving. "If I ever get like that for real, knife me in the back of the neck. Straight through all of that good brain-spine stuff."

Nines runs several preconstructions. While monitoring other police officers isn't part of his mission, he was created to serve as a form of Internal Affairs. RK800s to track down the deviants and RK900s to monitor the eights.

(His [pride] pushes the idea that he is more akin to Military Police, but that is irrelevant to the preconstructions and possibly a deviant thought pattern.)

Still, Nines is aware a not-insignificant number of police officers commit errors ranging from abusing their authority to planting evidence to outright working alongside criminals for profit. Even Detective Reed has shown a propensity to skirt right along the edge of what is legal--or not technically illegal.

His assumed persona at Synergy Paradigms seems to have illustrated crossing the line however, so Nines categorizes those behaviors as [unacceptable] in his system and updates his own action-paths accordingly.

The preconstructions of killing or permanently disabling Detective Reed still fail.

But his partner is designated as his [human partner] within his system, and there may be dormant programming preventing Nines from causing serious harm to him.

"I will inform you that your behavior is no longer acceptable," Nines tells him. "If you continue after my warning, then I will neutralize you."

Gavin takes a long drag off his cigarette and gives him the facial equivalent of the :eyes: emoji. Not an apologetic look as Nines originally interpreted, but an expression known as "side-eyeing." His extensive collection of saved images focused on Gavin's face has given Nines a much higher rate of success at interpreting his partner's nonverbal signals than the average human.

"Didn't take you for the type to give warnings," Gavin finally says.

"Well." Nines practices shrugging. "It takes a special hand to manage me."

Gavin snorts out smoke. "Fuck. Did I really sound that stupid?"

[dialogue options: AVAILABLE]

"I estimate your hand is very special to you, detective."

That earns him another snort. Eighty-three chance of [amusement].

"I gave a special hand to your mother yesterday evening."

"Hope you didn't bother paying for that shit."

"You may receive these special hands at a Denny's parking lot of your choice."

That finally makes Gavin laugh, long and loud enough that he starts coughing. He flips Nines off around a wheeze, still grinning. Nines watches him keep smoking and adds to his collection of saved images.

It's a very bad habit.

***

***

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I also have a Patreon for this fic, if you want to support me! $1 gets you access to chapters a week early, $2 gets bonus content and deleted scenes, and $3 gets short chapters from two AUs I’m writing: an A/B/O heatfic and reverse!AU

[ebiizaleth]

so season 8 was a shitstorm

DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T WANT SPOILERS. HUGE RANT AHEAD.

First, we need to talk about Allurance. So few were rooting for it, and so few were actually expecting it, which made it even more disappointing than it was in the pure essence of the show. It was poorly developed and made practically no sense at all. Lance was after Allura since season 1 and every time he made any romantic advance on her, she shut him down, damaging his self esteem and fueling his insecurities.

The first time she ever showed any kind of romantic interest in him (s7 ‘blush’ scene) was out of the blue, had no development, and most of all, made no sense whatsoever. So, now Allura’s agreeing to go on a date with him as the first notable event in the season, which, again, made no sense and seemingly came out of some kind of Senseless Abyss. Originally, she didn’t even seem enthusiastic about going with him until Romelle encouraged her. And then the dinner, which felt forced and gave no extra insight to the characters except that Lance felt uncomfortable with his childhood stories being revealed to Allura (again, she fuels his insecurity). Even worse, Lance dropping the big “I love you” on their first date was from nowhere and completely abandoned any sense of his character the season hadn’t already stripped from him.

Worse, Allura wasn’t what Lance needed. The show is made for children, if I’m not mistaken, meaning it should give at least some lessons to kids about how life is. In that, you don’t always get the girl, and definitely not by pining after her for years. Allura didn’t do anything for (much less ‘develop’) Lance’s character. Lance needed someone who could empower him, aid him in overcoming his insecurities and helping him to develop as a person and bring out his positive qualities. Instead, she stripped him down to a tiny part of his character and made him solely for the purpose of being a love interest. If Allurance had actually been developed and made Allura a character who checked the boxes in that she is what Lance needs, I’d be far less infuriated and more just disappointed that it wasn’t a ship I prefer. Honestly, I could go on more about how annoyed I am by the Allurance clusterfuck but I’m going to show some mercy.

Second point. The characters. I mean, the characters are what make Voltron what it is, right? The characters are what the audience fell in love with at the start. But season 8 completely ruined any idea of that. Threw it all out the window. All logic seemed to depart the writers when actually writing the characters. Keith’s character and style was just... not. He was a lot softer than he was in previous seasons, which was nice to see, but there was pretty much nothing that led to him acting that way. A random change of heart isn’t exactly Keith’s (or anyone’s???) style.

Pidge was decent this season but had no development yet did get some good ‘look-at-me-I’m-smart’ moments (which, let’s be honest, we have seen too much of before). Hunk, again, was reduced to a fat joke and ‘likes cooking’. Shiro was practically nonexistent this season, which was one of the things I was really afraid of in the build-up to the season. Shiro’s irrelevance was so obvious that it made him relevant. And just for the brownie points, they throw in a wedding scene with some random background character and a good old mlm kiss to spice things up. Then there’s Allura. Who, to be honest, hasn’t changed much as a person through the course of the show. The only real change we saw in Allura was that she suddenly started to have feelings for Lance.

The person everybody’s talking about (and who am I to break a trend?), however, is Lance. This season, in my eyes, didn’t even include Lance.  The ‘boy from Cuba’ on the screen was not any Lance I’ve ever seen. By halfway through the first episode, there was practically none of Lance left, and no clear reason for his abandonment of character other than Allura. His inner insecurity vanishes, any cockiness or arrogance disappeared, and he had little to no ‘funny’ and/or ‘dumb one’ lines. He was kind, calm, emotional and mostly collected throughout. Which is definitely a part of Lance’s character, but only a small segment.  

And the plot? Didn’t understand about nine-tenths of it. In fairness, it may have been because I was pretty much bored out of my mind and stopped focusing, but either way, it was boring as fuck. It was frustrating, confusing and made almost no sense. From the random fight scenes to the overabundance of mechas and robots, I was done from around the fourth episode. I was confused for the entire thing.

We all already knew that Altean Lance was quite a popular concept, but not like this. Never like this. First of all, for about the billionth time I’ve said in this post, it makes zero sense. Is Lance part Altean now? Does he have any special powers or just the markings, an imprint on Allura’s unfortunate permanence on his character? So he can be sad about her for the rest of his life, and never move on? And for him to go on to be a fucking farmer and his whole life to revolve around Allura? That is not the Lance that we knew for seven seasons. I call bullshit. I’m genuinely really pissed off about this because Lance was such a fan favourite and they did him so dirty, just like they did us all dirty.  

Finally, the whole thing felt so odd and disjointed. It didn’t feel like a season of Voltron, it felt like one huge mess. The characters’ interactions, of the few that actually mattered outside of Allurance were weird and felt forced. Even the Klance-y moments felt slightly wrong in that Lance went to seek out the one person on the team he’s always struggled to get along with to have a heart-to-heart. The episodes all seemed to blur into one mix of bullshit and there were a shit ton of loose ends/unexplained bits of plot from both this season and previous ones that leave us all clueless as to what became of certain characters, why some events went the way they did, etc. The rest of Voltron, for the most part, managed to lead on well and keep the characters’ personalities consistent (even if they weren’t being developed). This was a shitshow.

By the end, with all the shit it had thrown at us, like going in Honerva’s mind, the fucking Altean markings, everyone being a shitty character and Allura dying having no lasting repercussions except turning Lance into some ridiculous stagnant idiot, I pretty much lost all sense of caring. To be honest, they could’ve ended it at the end of season 7 (minus the “It’s an Altean!!11!!” thing) and everyone would’ve been happier.

While I hated a lot about the season, there were a few things I did enjoy:

- Pidge with bunchies and she looked great this season

- Keith being soft (irritatingly without reason)

- Bae Bae

- Getting to know the MFEs (and Kinkade’s vlog/passion being shown)

- Colleen Holt (and her liking ‘Plance’)

- Veronica/Axca interactions

- Matt Holt

- The animation improved a bit??

- Ponytail Keith

- Shiro did get a happy ending, no matter how shittily done

[vohalika]

Thoughts on Ellie

(I don’t even go here, which is why I’m not tagging it. This just bothered me a metric fuckton)

 So from what I understand, a random fresh account under the name Ellie appeared on Rank 4 in Top500 recently. A Contenders Team announce they signed her on. People were suspicious because no one knew who this was or where they came from, there was no real name listed on the contenders page, and someone climbing from 0 to T500 is basically unheard of and almost impossible, especially not knowing who they are.

To prove her existence and female-ness, a girl saying Ellie is her account plays on stream and does so badly. Shitstorm ensues. Ellie resigns. Someone tells someone called Aspen it was a social experiment. The guy who did this is apparently called Punisher. There is an investigation.

From what I understand, this is a drama heavy pro scene to begin with, so I do believe that being “suspicious” of these circumstances would have happened with either gender. Or none. Whatever. The thought process behind “there’s no female player of T500 level who plays these heroes; these heroes wouldn’t be played with an aim bot; it must be a male player pretending to be a girl” is… Well, correct in this case. And that’s the worst part, really. I dislike the general assumption that no female player could do this, with Ellie as her second account or whatever, but that doesn’t matter under these circumstances because that is, literally, what happened. For the most part, at least.

So that’s I think the popular story right now? That the girl behind Ellie’s voice and this Punisher guy (and maybe others?) started this fake account as a social experiment, and then deceived a pro team into signing her on as the first female player ever in Contenders NA. Not in Contenders, there’s a few women playing in Contenders AU.

Like babyporo. Who a day before Ellie sprung fully formed into existence with an SR of 4665 called out the captain of the team that signed Ellie for tweeting “females should not be in my 4500 games 😊 change my mind”.

Where was the shitstorm about that, by the way? Somehow, that didn’t make it into the OW vloggersphere on youtube the same way Ellie did.

Anyway, Ellie happened a day later, Haku, the team captain in question, apologized, his team signs Ellie.

So… I see like, three-ish options here. The people behind the Ellie account saw Haku being a dick, created this fake girl with an SR about 4500, and then were signed on the same team as him out of dumb luck and what started as a (really badly conceived geez) gotcha! Moment spiraled out of control.

Or, these incidents were all entirely unrelated, it started as a “genuine” social experiment to see… What? How much harassment a random female account coming up under suspicious circumstances would receive? How easy it’d be to get signed on a pro team as a woman? How gullible the management behind Second Wind is?

I mean, yay, success, amazing. It’s like all those times men made dating profiles pretending to be women and left after a few days because of all the vile things men were sending them. How about y’all just believe what women tell you instead of pulling shit like this.

The third-ish possibility is that Second Wind was in on this and signed on Ellie because they wanted a PR stunt after those sexist comments to show how not sexist they are. I’ve seen people call this virtue signaling, and, yikes.

So this Punisher guy and the girl acting along are assholes under all of these circumstances. That much is clear. The entire idea is just bad, and throws basically any future female pro player under the bus as well.

But, I mean, what the fuck is wrong with this team? People are now complaining how every man has to go through thorough vetting processes, but look, that woman just got signed on because she pretended to be a woman! Misandry is real!

(Actual take I have heard)

I mean, if that was the case, why aren’t there tons of women already playing in the pro leagues, if apparently sounding like you might possess a vagina is enough to get you signed, no further vetting required?

The official statement says they had no idea who Ellie really was, or rather wasn’t, they don’t ever communicate with their players in person, and there were time constraints. And I guess they have to say that, because if they’d been in on this, my guess is Blizzard would boot their asses right out.

So in the most generous of cases, they were just being extremely careless. Which is even more damning once female players are involved, especially the first one in that Contenders division ever, because there will always be a shitstorm. If this had been a real woman and they’d signed her on under these circumstances without vetting, exposing her to this kind of harassment would have been callous beyond measure. This way, it is also callous and dangerous and irresponsible, don’t get me wrong, but just in general to any future female player trying to go pro.

If they signed her on for a publicity stunt, I mean, that was successful. No such thing as bad press. To distract from Haku’s sexist remarks, well, that was also successful up until basically now.

Or they were complicit in all of this. Maybe they knew all along that Ellie wasn’t real, signed her for the PR, counted on her getting harassed enough so that her dropping out before every playing a single game would be believable; so they’d both be known for being the first NA Contenders team to sign a woman without actually having to sign a woman. Refer to what I said above about being callous and irresponsible, and add to that being colossal dicks on purpose.

And honestly, I kind of believe the latter version is more likely. I really don’t see how a pro organization could be so artificially stupid. If they were the victims of fraud here and only wanted to sign on a good player that happened to be female with the best of intentions, I also hope they press charges, but I really, really don’t think they were.

So. Best case scenario, SW management is full of idiots. Worst case scenario, full of assholes. Alongside Punisher and Ellie. There are no winners here.

And then there’s people whose takeaway from this is that there’s no sexism towards women in the community, all the doxxers and harassers were justified because they were right, harassment only counts when it’s towards women while all the male players getting shit online are being left in the dust, women have been toxic to me in my games too and they never get banned for it while they get men banned for reporting them, and also, congrats, now we will have achieved equality because women will have to be vetted as thoroughly as men to go pro in the future.

Yikes.

So. Something tells me that the women playing on Contenders AU currently were properly vetted already. So was Geguri. Didn’t Geguri also have to play with a keyboard and mouse cam to prove she was actually as good at tracking as she is?

(I know she doesn’t want to be seen as a female player instead of a player and also doesn’t want to be used for these kinds of talks. It is however kind of impossible not to when you are the first of anything, really, and also a really good example for everything, including but not limited to the concept of the glass cliff; something sort of related to the glass ceiling.)

I also stand by the assumption that if there hadn’t been a girl involved in this, we’d all be laughing about a great prank by now.

Maybe Overwatch truly is the one amazing bastion of equality where male and female players are harassed equally, or for some reason, men face more harassment and scrutiny, so any and all experiences from any and all other gaming communities when it comes to women are completely invalid here. That’d be great. That’s not the story I hear, though. I’ve seen babyporo go a little into what it’s like being a female pro player, I’ve seen the drama around Mercy mains, that thing with Geguri definitely happened. For every toxic female player abusing others via comms in-game, I’ve heard of two who don’t dare to speak up during the game for fear of being harassed. Maybe those fears are unfounded; I can say I haven’t been harassed in comms so far. But then again, the ranks I play at are veeery low, so I’m not exactly threatening any male egos by existing there. My games haven’t been very toxic in general, maybe the real toxicity only starts when there’s actually something at stake in the higher ranks.

All of this is anecdotal, though. I have a hard time letting go of what I have heard and seen happening over and over again, but let’s just assume Overwatch is above all that.

That still won’t change the fact that any and all female pro players trying to get on a team now will have to face so, so much more scrutiny, if not by the organizations, then by the community. Now that they’ve been proven right, the mob of assholes – as minor a part of the community at large as it may be – feels validated. There was something to dig up about this female player, so there might be something to dig up about all future female pros, too! What, it’s just being careful at this point, look at what happened with Ellie!

And that is going to make the situation worse for female players. There’s already a bunch of societal hurdles to even get to a point where you’d consider going pro and be considered for a team. Now there will be fewer women who are going to try because with all the scrutiny that is going to follow, it might just not be worth it. We have seen many women crucified by the video game community before; that shit is not exactly encouraging.

[sofreddie]

Dean Has A Plan

Summary: @roxyspearing - Ok for yours and winsister91’s celebration - winchester x reader where the other winchester keeps setting them up in romantic situations because they’d be perfect together : )

Characters: Dean, Sam x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, Implied Smut, Humor

Word Count: 1,388

A/N: Another request for the SOWINFREDSISIE 500 Follower Celebration. Sammykins, @winsister91, will be writing the Dean version. I suck at Titles and Summaries, I’m sorry. I think I strayed a little from the request, but I really like how this turned out. Feedback is appreciated. : ) If you like my writing, consider buying me a coffee. 

A secret. It was always an unspoken secret. Like an affair. But no one was cheating or lying. Sam and Y/N longed to be together, yearned for one another. But for whatever reason, they both felt they couldn’t be. So they lived in stolen glances and lingering touches. They never spoke of their feeling or predicament. They never went beyond a close friendship. But the fires of intimacy continued to grow between them as time went on. Their friendship was strong, one of the solid and reliable things either of them had in their lives. Dean knew. He could see it whenever Sam returned injured from a hunt and Y/N would patch him up. Their eyes would meet and lock. Dean would blush, feeling like he was intruding on something intimate, and would turn his back or leave the area to give them space if he could. He knew, in those moments, they connected and reveled in their bond.

Dean asked Sam repeatedly about the two of them. Sam would always deny it with ‘it’s nothing’ or ‘we’re just friends’. Try as he might, Dean could never manage to get more out of either of them. Nor could he persuade them to pursue the chemistry that was so evident. After a time, it became a do-or-die goal of Dean’s to see his brother and best friend together and happy. Whatever it would take, he would make it happen. Make them see that there is more, could be more, if they’d only just...let go.

Once he’d made up his mind to get them together, Dean realized he just needed to come up with a good plan. A faultless plan. He initially thought of “pursuing” Y/N in an effort to force Sam into action. But he quickly dismissed the idea. He knew how Sam felt, even if Sam didn’t admit it. And Sam knew he knew. So for Dean to do that would be a really shitty thing. He couldn’t hurt his brother like that. And Y/N would see right through him. Though Dean and Y/N were the best of friends with an undeniable chemistry, there was never an inkling, never a moment where it ever felt like it could, or should, be more than what it was.

No, Dean needed something better. He needed something solid. He needed to force them to admit to each other, and themselves, all that they’d been trying to ignore. They deserved the happiness. And seeing them happy, the two people he loved most in this world, would bring Dean a joy he could never properly express. A ray of light, of hope, in the shitstorm that was their lives.

After much deliberation, Dean finally decided on his plan of action.

“Oh my God!” Dean shouted, exasperated, “Will you two just confess your undying love and pound each other into the sheets already?!” Ok, so his plan didn’t go exactly as planned. He had this masterful plan to cleverly be ambiguous while insinuating, and either he or they were the idiot. He wasn’t sure which. But his little plan turned into a sort of charades before he ended up here.

*SMACK* 

“Rude.” Y/N said in an even tone, slapping Dean just hard enough to get her point across, not to hurt him. Dean looked to Sam in shock and Sam shook his head before dropping it in mock shame.

“Seriously?!” Dean shouted. “I’m the bad guy now?” Y/N and Sam just laughed together, smiling at one another before looking back at Dean. “I just,” Dean sighed in defeat, “I just want to see the people I love most in this world truly happy.” His tone was soft as he looked between them. Y/N and Sam exchanged a quick look before taking defensive stances, wrapping their arms around themselves and slightly shuffling apart. Dean silently pleaded once more before giving up and walking away, leaving the pair in awkward silence.

“So,” Sam cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. “That was weird, huh?” He forced a laugh they both knew was fake. She smirked slightly in return.

“Yeah.” She breathed out. She stood straight from the table, swinging her arms at her sides and taking several steps away from Sam. “I’m just gonna go to my room for a bit.” She smiled, warmer this time. Sam really didn’t want her to go. Dean was right, always had been. It wasn’t about that. It was about him.

Sam believed he wasn’t good enough for Y/N. He believed that his love would inevitably kill her, and he couldn’t bear the thought. He’d rather have her at a distance than lose her completely from his life. The price, not being able to share his love with her, was almost more than he could bear, but he paid it. He sighed heavily to himself as he thought again how Dean was right. Enough was enough. He couldn’t just laugh it off and pretend it away this time, for whatever reason. After fighting for so long, his resolve crumbled under the pressure of the numerous cracks and chips that ate away at his wall.

“I love you.” He blurted out, rather loudly and high pitched. He cursed himself under his breath, wincing at his own stupidity. He looked up at Y/N. She was frozen, staring at him. She nodded, looking to the ground.

“I know.” She said, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “I know, Sam. And I love you too. You know that.”

“But we’ve never said it.” He said, stepping towards her quickly before he lost his nerve. “We never do anything about it.” He wrapped his arms around her back as her hands found his sides. They clung to each other comfortably, as if it was something they did all the time. “There’s this...thing between us.” He spoke quickly before he could lose his nerve. His mind kept trying to wander to the feel of her in his arms, but he forced himself to focus.

“I know.” She nodded in agreement, pulling him a little closer to her as she wrapped her arms around his back.

“I want,” He started, getting flustered as he looked down into her eyes, shining up at him. He felt her warmth against his skin, could feel her breathing. “I just,” She continued nodding, her eyes drifting between his and his lips. He cupped her face between his hands, the excitement of her proximity, her touch, causing his shoulders to rise and fall rapidly with his breathing. “I can’t lose you.” He whispered the last part. Y/N could hear his heart breaking with the words, as if he choked on them as they left his lips.

“Sam,” Y/N cautioned as her and Sam slowly drifted towards each other. “If you kiss me, there’s no going back.” She whispered, glancing into his eyes mere inches from her own. She could feel his breath in pants across her face. He nuzzled her nose with his own, hesitating before the kiss. He knew he could never go back if he did it. And now he knew she couldn’t either. With a hard swallow, and not another thought, he crashed his lips into hers.

Like a bolt of thunder had crashed through them, Sam felt shockwaves radiate through his body. The hairs on his arms stood on end and his heart froze in place as he finally felt her lips against his own. He moaned, releasing a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. His fingers slid into her hair, his other hand running down her side and hooking behind her back to hold her close to him as he deepened the kiss.

Dean smiled to himself as he lay in his bed, his back propped up against the headboard. He had just bought new headphones. Noise cancelling, easy to sleep with. He could listen to music and drift off to sleep. Don’t get him wrong, he was grateful Sam and Y/N finally got together and stopped running from it. He was grateful that his family somehow seemed more complete. He didn’t plan however for the constant stream of grunts, moans, pleas, and praise that floated throughout the bunker walls daily, and nightly, and afternoonly, and morningly….

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[aphrodaisyacs]

Summary:

He’s probably going to die. Using the Infinity Stone might burn him inside out to the point of no return. Maybe he’ll lose control and he’ll send them both flying to their deaths, until their bodies float endlessly through the icy unforgivable vacuum of space.

But it’s better than the certainty of having his last breath crushed out of his throat in Thanos’ grip.

Tesseract between his blistered fingers, he thinks about safety and pulls.

Or: The one where Loki isn’t dumbed down for plot reasons and the Butterfly Effect ensues

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Heimdall (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff, Bruce Banner, Thanos (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes, Guardians of the Galaxy Team, Steve Rogers, T'Challa (Marvel), Peter Parker Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Shitstorm with a Happy Ending, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, POV Multiple, Loss of Limbs, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence

This was supposed to be a one-shot but it bullied its way into becoming a multi-chapter so here’s the first one!!

@pinato @ellcwrites @pretty-tsundere-cactus

If you prefer reading on tumblr, the full chapter is below:

It’s not enough, the realisation is a sickening weight in Loki’s stomach. His bones ache from exhaustion, his arms burn from the depletion of his magic. He tastes ash, smoke and blood in the air and between his lips. The ground shakes and the Hulk roars.

But it’s not enough.

Even the great green beast, the strongest, most indestructible, terrifying, the Champion ‒ their last hope against Thanos’ raw power. He isn’t enough.

He’s bent over Thor as if his brother could actually be protected by his weakened body. He knows that Thor too, had completely burnt out all of his lightning and is teetering on the edge of consciousness.

They are going to die. Except…

The soft blue glow of the Tesseract is harsh in its salience. He can reach it. The Space Stone‒ he can use it. Jump through space. Jump to somewhere where there’s help. Somewhere they can stall just long enough where they can recover, gather their strength…

Loki looks over at where Heimdall had fallen. He is met with golden eyes burning with resignation, hope, and the determination to carry out one final act of defiance. Those eyes slide over to the Hulk’s losing battle. Loki feels a pang in his chest. He knows what he must do.

He’s gripping Thor so hard his knuckles somehow turn even whiter. He reaches out to the Tesseract.

He’s probably going to die. Using the Infinity Stone might burn him inside out to the point of no return. Maybe he’ll lose control and he’ll send them both flying to their deaths, until their bodies float endlessly through the icy unforgivable vacuum of space.

But it’s better than the certainty of having his last breath crushed out of his throat in Thanos’ grip.

Tesseract between his blistered fingers, he thinks about safety and pulls.

The world tugs and swirls around him, but panic reverberates through his entire being when he sees Corvus lunge at them right as the ship dissolves into the vacuum of space.

They land amongst floating rocks.

Corvus immediately thrusts his weapon at Loki, but he is blocked with a punch from Thor. The two of them grapple with each other, sending each other’s weightless bodies flying into a boulder.

Loki barely registers the blue creeping onto his fingertips as he summons his last knife. He kicks off against a nearby rock, propelling himself towards the two struggling figures.

He drives the knife through Corvus’ skull.

Corvus stills. His grip on his weapon loosens.

Loki doesn’t think twice before snatching the spear out of the already stiffening grip.

Thor pushes Corvus’ body away, then ducks to avoid a rock the size of his head. Loki grabs onto his brother’s armour before the idiot can send himself crashing into another rock.

Why are we here, he sees Thor mouthing. He can’t answer, and it’s not just because the vacuum would suck his voice away. He doesn’t know why he sent them to the remains of Asgard (he does). It is little more than pile of rocks (it used to be home, safety, even when it became his prison). He’d wasted some of his last remaining drops of energy (he’d wasted it on sentiment).

He can’t even muster the strength to react when he looks down and sees that his hands had turned completely blue. Instead, he draws in absolutely everything left in him and pulls at the Tesseract once more.

This time, however, pain sears through his entire body and it is almost impossible to fight against the Tesseract pulling right back at him.

He barely registers Thor’s horrified expression before everything fades to black.

The Guardians stare at the man they’ve picked up from the debris. He returns their stares with a steady golden gaze.

“So‒ Heimdall,” Gamora begins, “Your ship had the Space Stone, but then its keeper used it to escape and left everyone else for dead?”

“No,” says Heimdall. “Half of the ship‒ nearly all of them non-combatants‒ were evacuated. And by then, the remaining half who stayed to fight were all killed by Thanos and the Black Order. Only four of us were left. Loki took Thor with him, but the moment the Space Stone slipped from his grasp, Thanos merely used the Power Stone to destroy the rest of the ship and left. I sent Banner to Midgard before the explosion hit.”

“I am Groot?” Groot asks, finally looking up from his game.

“Also known as Earth. Terra.”

Rocket’s jaw drops.

“You speak Groot?”

“Yes,” Heimdall says, tilting his head slightly forward in acknowledgement.

Peter clears his throat.

“I mean, Groot isn’t that hard to pick up,” he says, walking into the conversation with the casualness of a man trying too hard to be casual. “Like I was a natural at it back when Groot turned back into a little sapling.” He turns, only to be met with scrunched faces and raised eyebrows from his friends rather than the acknowledgement he was hoping for. The only indication of Heimdall’s mild bemusement is a miniscule furrow in his brows, which Peter takes as a challenge, if the way he straightens like a territorial swan is any indication.

“Why are you trying to make yourself look taller?” Mantis asks, antennae twitching curiously.

“What’re you talking about? This is how tall I am.” He broadly gestures at his entire body, which makes his hands accidently smack into Mantis. She gasps.

“You’re insecure!” She sounds delightfully surprised by her discovery. “And jealous.”

“What?” Peter exclaims. “No I’m not!”

“Peter!” Gamora cuts in, not even bothering to mask her annoyance. When the entire ship falls silent, she sighs.

“The entire time I knew Thanos he only ever had one goal: to bring balance to the universe by wiping out half of all life. He used to kill people planet by planet, massacre by massacre…”

“Including my own,” Drax softly adds.

“If he gets all six Infinity Stones, he can do it with the snap of his fingers.” Gamora punctuates it with a snap of her own. It echoes sharply in the silence of the ship. The aura of solemnity is blanketing its occupants, whose gazes and bodies are wilting from the gravity of their situation. Except for Heimdall, who is looking at Gamora thoughtfully.

“We need to stop him,” she continues. “Which means we need to know where he’s going next.”

“He is after the Reality Stone in Knowhere,” Heimdall says, finally breaking his silence.

“How would you know any of that?” Gamora asks sharply.

“Years ago, Asgard secretly entrusted it to the Elder Taneleer Tivan.” Upon seeing the Guardians’ blank looks, Heimdall adds, “You may know him as the Collector.”

“No way,” Peter says. “Only an idiot would give it to the Collector.”

“How do you know he won’t go after any of the other stones?” Gamora cuts in.

“My sight and hearing extends throughout the universe. Thanos is currently alone, and preparing for his journey towards Knowhere. If we are fast enough, we have a chance of arriving before him.”

Gamora chews her lip.

“Then does that mean you know where all the other stones are?”

“Time, Mind and now Space are on Midgard. He currently has the Power Stone, which leaves the Soul Stone.” Heimdall pauses. “But there must be some powerful magic guarding the Soul Stone, for I cannot see it.”

“So… even you don’t know where the Soul Stone is?” Only Heimdall manages to hear the artificial steadiness in Gamora’s voice.

“No, I do not.” He looks into her eyes and sees trepidation carefully hidden under layers of steel. He understands. And he dips his head apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Peter says, physically stepping between them. “Rocket! Let’s turn this thing around to Knowhere.”

“Oh are you kidding me, back to bossing me around now?” Rocket rolls his eyes but follows Peter to the cockpit anyway. “Come on, Groot, let’s go.”

A giant ring. Rubble. Destruction. Two grotesque figures, fanned by flames.

TONY STARK MISSING

It all flashes across the small screen, painful reminders that their stolen moments can be snatched back so abruptly, so messily, that their tentative blossom of hope get snagged and torn out as well.

Just a little more time. That was all they wanted.

But a blast of blue energy sends Vision flying into the pavement, shattering the peace of the cool night.

Wanda reacts by throwing her own red energy in the direction of the attack. She sees it hit an alien woman-like figure before she turns back to Vision, who is now stripped of his human skin and embedded into the stone road.

“I’m okay… I’m okay,” Vision wheezes as Wanda propels them both into a temporary hiding spot.

And he is, Wanda realises once she’s done a quick scan on him using her powers. The blast of blue energy appears to have done little more than leaving him winded and breathless.

When the alien woman attacks again, Wanda makes herself as much of a target for the hits and blows as she can. The woman may be physically tougher and faster than her, but in between ducking the three-pronged spear, Wanda dredges up her powers and her hand-to-hand training from the Black Widow and Captain America.

They’re evenly matched.

(Thank god the woman seems to be alone)

Eventually Vision joins the fight, and while the woman is too busy deflecting his golden beam from the Mind Stone, Wanda seeps her magic into the woman’s mind.

Sleep, she wills.

The woman crumples to the ground.

Wanda watches the woman stir as she feels the last vestiges of her magic run its course. The woman had been bound once Steve, Sam and Natasha arrived and though Natasha’s the only one who stayed behind to help watch over their unconscious captive, Steve and Sam are still nearby, dealing with the alien spaceship they had found parked above the train station.

Wanda’s pulse quickens as they watch the woman tug at her restraints, snarling when she’s unable to budge the vibranium even with her strength.

Natasha begins the interrogation, and Wanda summons a small cloud of magic around her clenched fists, just in case.

But the woman’s demeanour suddenly changes, her hot anger hardening to ice cold apathy. She merely rolls her eyes at Natasha’s attempts to talk to her, and she looks almost bored at the red energy crackling at Wanda’s fingertips. Instead, she silently stares at Vision with an intensity that causes him to self-consciously reach up to the stone on his forehead.

Wanda feels a surge of anger at the woman. The nerve of her, and whoever she is working for, to feel entitled to the stones and their power, as if it justifies all the death, all the destruction they have caused.

She almost doesn’t notice Steve approaching their corner and Sam landing next to him. The woman seems to be aware of them too, because she finally breaks her silence with laughter. The sound sends a crawling sensation down Wanda’s neck. Natasha swings the prongs of the trident at the woman’s throat in warning, letting the tips pierce her skin until three thin trails of dark blue run down her neck. The only indication of pain is a short gasp, which is quickly replaced by a feral grin.

“You’re no match for Thanos. He’s far more powerful than you can ever imagine. The stones belong to him, and he’ll restore balance to the universe. It doesn’t matter if you kill me here, because you won’t be able to stop him.”

Natasha hums.

“Is that so?”

The woman juts her chin out, seemingly ignorant to the way the gesture made the prongs sink further into her throat.

Natasha exchange glances with Steve. His expression is unreadable, but his crossed arms tense up slightly. Wanda feels her stomach drop.

Natasha gives the trident a final push.

A sharp crack.

A hoarse gasp.

A body crumples to the ground.

part 2

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Putting the Cat in Catastrophe Chapter 2

Bonjour! A little later than half an hour, but I had to eat first - cream of mushroom soup is very good, by the way. Enjoy the new chapter!

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Summary:  Danny Fenton has just escaped from a secret government testing facility and runs straight into Andrew Riter - a busybody librarian who seems to be obsessed with helping a stray black cat - said stray black cat happening to be Danny himself. The Government gets interested when they find out a seemingly ordinary human can shapeshift into different animals. Danny just wants to return to his family and try to find his lost memories, but he's having a hard time doing so when he's finding less and less reasons for leaving Andrew's side. He couldn't tell anyone his secret - not again - but... But why did he want to trust this man so badly? (Iambic Prose) (Shapeshifter Danny AU)

Warnings for: Laboratory testing, mentions of vivisections and dissections (nothing physical shown on screen), and references to bleeding

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Chapter Two

::

He had once heard that an optimistic outlook could make even the worst day into a great one. He heard that as long as you faced the day with a smile and didn't let it break you, no matter what was happening, it would get better. The smile would become real and the day would be good no matter what bad things happened.

Danny Fenton would really like to scratch the eyes out of whoever the fuck had said that. He would settle for biting, of course, but scratching the eyes out seemed like a reasonable reaction to a pile of garbage like that.

Look, the point was that Danny was having a very difficult night- Day? Morning? He wasn't sure what time it was exactly, but the last twenty-four hours had been hell. It was to the point that he was curled up in a stranger's lap and that was the normal part of the day. Danny was tired, exhausted, hurt, and he was pretty sure he should be biting and scratching the guy who was bawling his eyes out in an alleyway, but judging by his story his day was going about as well as Danny's.

So, here he was. Sitting on the lap of a guy who was probably trying to pretend that was rainwater on his cheeks and not tears. Danny kind of felt bad for the guy. Or, he would, if he wasn't- Ugh. It had been a day. Black cats were nowhere near lucky and Danny had the proof to back it all up!

"You've had a very tough life, haven't you?" The man's voice was quiet - almost as if he was afraid of being heard. Danny could sympathize. Sighing and collapsing further into the man's touch, Danny frowned as he felt a purr rumble out of him.

'You have no idea.' His life had been one giant shitstorm of one bad thing after another, but that morning - last night? - had been the worst one yet. It had started out hopeful, too.

::

"It's already been another year?" Danny looked in surprise at the chocolate bar that was held in front of him, taking it quickly when it was almost pulled away. "Hey, hey, I'm not complaining!"

"All you do is complain to me." Yeah, to Vlad, and that was because Vlad was the only scientist that wasn't completely insane and put in requests to vivisection him. "Five years since you arrived."

"Five years of torture," Danny snorted, tearing the packaging open with his teeth and taking a large bite at once, beaming at the taste. It had been an entire year since he last had something chocolate. "Five years of nothing but this place."

"Hey." Vlad pushed the chocolate bar down before he could take another bite, Danny frowning as he looked into the stare that wasn't quite disappointment, but also wasn't quite reproachful. "You're doing better."

"Yeah, I can remember my childhood bed and my favorite cartoon. Big progress." Taking another big bite, Danny glared at Vlad in defiance. Vlad just rolled his eyes as he began taking Danny's vitals. "Yeah, wow, so much has changed from my last torture session."

"Hush. You know they don't like when you use that word." Yeah, cause Danny was just a little too human for them. At least, he usually was. "You seem to be doing well with the new regime they put you on."

"Doesn't feel like it. I'm still getting the cold and heat flashes every few hours." All Vlad did was offer him a weak smile - that was all he could do right now. "'S fine, I'll get used to it like all the other stuff."

"Ye… Yes." Oh, no, Danny did not like the way Vlad said that. He was also being given a second chocolate bar which meant bad news. Vlad, the dick, waited until his mouth was full of chocolate to speak again. "You're leaving tonight."

It took a good ten seconds for Danny to stop himself from choking and swallow the bite in his mouth, gasping for breath and, "What?!" There was no way- "You're joking. That's cruel- Even for you that's cruel."

"I'm not joking, Daniel." He wasn't joking. He wasn't… Five years. Danny had been here five years and he- He couldn't remember the before, so it was fine, right? This was all he knew so it was fine. Not good, but he was surviving. Yeah, sure, okay, he wanted to stop all the pain and shit, but… "You're seventeen, you've been here five years, and they've learned all they can from you while you're alive."

"What… What do you mean while I'm alive?" He'd been here since he was twelve and five years wasn't enough to learn everything about him, right? "Vlad, what do you mean-"

"They've studied your body as much as they can while keeping it working, Daniel. What do you think happens when they've performed all the vivisections they need?" Vlad's voice was hard and rough, the man clutching at his clipboard and looking ready to break it in half. "What's the difference between a vivisection and an autopsy?"

"The first one is for subjects that are alive and the second is for- Oh." They were going to kill him. They were going to see just how everything worked when they had all the time in the world to pick him apart and study him. "When?"

"Tonight." Silent, Danny stared down at his chocolate, one wrapper empty and the other still having near a full chocolate bar.

"Kind of a dick move considering it's my birthday and all." They were going to kill him. They were going to kill him and there was nothing- Leaving. "You're serious."

"As much as you like to cast disparities upon my character, I don't want to see a child die in front of me." Resisting the urge to argue about the child bit, Danny quietly took another bite of chocolate. "Will it make you feel better if I told you I've been working on this plan for four years, now?"

"Four years? But that's…" That was when Vlad was assigned as his caretaker within the labs. He was the one in charge of making sure he didn't die in his sleep, basically. Four years would have meant that Vlad had been working on this plan since the beginning - since they had first met. "You didn't even know me back then. I was nothing but a subject."

"Please." Vlad gave him the look he usually did when Danny was being an idiot. "You were thirteen years old and you cried quietly when they first brought you to me. Children don't cry quietly unless they've given up."

"To be fair, thirteen isn't a child at that point," Danny grumbled, finishing off his chocolate bar and dropping the wrappers onto the table beside him. "This plan of yours. Would it even work? We've been through plans before." Danny wasn't the only one to dream of escape, but he was the only one who wasn't an idiot and ran off as soon as a door was open.

"Four years is a lot of time to work out the kinks in a plan." Mm. That wasn't a very good answer, but then, Vlad wasn't much of a fan of yes or no answers. "Daniel… This is your last chance. I won't let it fail."

"How much danger is it going to put you in?" There was the soft sound of pencil scratching against paper on a clipboard, Danny steadily watching Vlad as he refused to answer the question. Didn't that just tell him everything he needed to know, too. "There's no way I'm doing this if it's going to hurt you-"

"I, at least, won't be cut open on a table without a heartbeat in a few hours." The words weren't screamed, but they might as well have been with how cold they were. "We're doing this and you can either cooperate or I can resort to plan B where you don't have to be conscious."

"That's cruel." He shouldn't. Danny shouldn't be feeling like this was possible. It was just talk. Words that were nothing but noise. He shouldn't be getting excited over the chance that he could actually be free. "This is cruel, Vlad, even by your standards."

"Whatever made you think I was a nice man?" Vlad patted at his cheek, hand resting there for a moment before he sighed and dropped it to Danny's shoulder. "Just hope, Daniel. For a few more hours, just have trust in me and hope."

"I was supposed to spend the rest of my life in here." That was how it was supposed to go. He'd be the government's lab rat, he'd get used to never having his memories back, and he'd just live out the rest of his life in a government testing facility. "That was how it was supposed to be."

"Yes, well, I've rather found that planning ahead never quite works like one would expect." Vlad sighed, meeting Danny's gaze again. "I'm going to tell you as much about your past as I know and when you get out you're going to find them. They'll welcome you back without hesitation."

"How can you be sure? How can you- I've been gone for five years. Whatever they felt for me is probably- They probably thought I was dead and had a funeral, Vlad. Who wants a dead kid back in their lives?"

"Daniel, they will accept you - your parents, especially. Once you have children… Everything changes. You'll return to them, to Jack and Maddie Fenton, and you'll have a home again. A real one."

"Vlad- Vlad, I only remember a few things. My childhood bed, my favorite cartoon, and the color purple. That's not- That's nowhere near enough to actually survive-"

"You, little badger, give yourself too little credit." Trying not to laugh at the nickname, Danny shook his head. "And yes, I am never going to let you forget that."

"I panicked and you were wearing a white lab coat and I heard someone talking about honey badgers that day. I can't be blamed for what happened." Humor. Humor helped cover up everything else. That was all he needed, right? "Vlad… If it wasn't for you then my first memory would have been waking up in those labs. They've taken everything from me."

"And you can get it back. They didn't take your memories, Daniel, you hid them away. I've told you this." Yeah, yeah, psychology and repression, and everything, but… He had to have hid them away for a reason. Maybe it was because they hurt too much. "You're going to be okay."

"Right. Okay." He could believe in one more lie, right? Besides, if it was the last lie he'd ever believe in, then, well. It wasn't a bad one. "What's this plan of yours, then?"

::

"This is the last test for this subject, then?" As usual, the scientists preferred to think he was nothing but the animals he shifted into. Danny hoped he could bite at least one of them before he left.

"Yes, after this we move him to F-121." The dissection labs. Fuck, Vlad hadn't been kidding at all, then, had he? "Make sure he's strapped in tightly. They're expecting him in half an hour."

"All secure." The bands around his wrists and ankles were checked, Danny staying still and silent and he just had to have patience. He just had to be patient and wait for the right moment. That didn't mean he liked the fact that he was on his stomach his back was facing them. "Do you think they'll let us study his brain one last time before they put him under?"

Tuning the conversation out, Danny focused on pushing away the pain that came from their scalpels slicing into him, his paper gown pushed away as the strings were cut. As soon as he got out of here he was going to find the largest, softest clothes he could and never take them off.

Just as it seemed like the pain was going to overwhelm him, the blaring ringing of alarm bells had all three of them startling, Danny looking up with wide eyes as the room began to be washed out with red colors.

"The contamination warning? Shit, is it airborne?" The scalpels left his skin and Danny heard the door of the room unlock itself, a pre-recorded voice sounding over the speakers.

"Attention, this is not a drill. An airborne contaminant has been released into the compound. Please escort yourselves to the designated safe spots. Attention, this is not a drill. An airborne contaminant-" Signal. That was a hell of a signal.

Closing his eyes, Danny breathed out slowly before sucking another breath in and centering his thoughts. If one thing could be said about this hellhole, at least it had taught him just what he could do and what he was capable of.

"Should we- Fuck. The subject-" Too late. Throwing himself off the table, Danny hit the floor in a scramble of four paws, rat tail flicking sharply before he gave himself over to his instincts and ran. He knew a scrap of black fur and blue eyes could be easily lost in the chaos that was now happening - at least, to those who weren't looking.

Warm hands scooped him up, Danny opening his mouth wide and flashing sharp teeth and- "If you bite me, Daniel, then I will make sure to throw you into the trash compactor." Danny nipped Vlad's finger in defiance, laughing to himself as he was dropped into the man's pocket.

'No sense of humor at all.' Danny curled up in the pocket, slowly peeking out as Vlad ran through the halls, alarms still flashing and blaring and making the whole building a confusing den of sound and movement. 'C'mon, Vladdie, running out of time.'

"You remember the plan?" No, he obviously forgot between here and- Of course he remembered the plan! Danny hadn't let Vlad leave until he could recite it by heart! "Get ready to shift, I'm about to drop you off at the right vent."

It was only a few moments of Danny wondering what vent it would be at before Vlad was stopping and picking him up gently, hesitating as he stroked a thumb down Danny's back. "Be safe, little badger."

'I won't forget this, Vlad.' Danny knew Vlad couldn't hear his thoughts, but it was nice to pretend. 'I promise.' As soon as Danny's paws touched the ground he was shifting into a raccoon and flexing his 'hands' before fighting to get the screws off of the air vent. It didn't take long before he managed to get them off. Ignoring his cuts on his hands - paws? - and the blood he could feel streaking down his back, Danny closed his eyes and shifted his body once more, panting to get his breath back as he balanced on four paws.

Back-to-back shifting always took it out of him considering how much his body was changing and how quickly it was, but he didn't have a choice much as the moment. "-he's escaping!" Fuck.

"Run and don't look back." Looking up at Vlad with sharp cat eyes, Danny yowled as he was near kicked into the vent, Vlad yelling at him. "Daniel, run!"

Knowing better than to question and not stupid enough to stick around and help, Danny pushed his tears back and ran down the vent, paws quick and sure and stride not breaking once as he bounded across the flexing metal ducts. He didn't stop until something was breaking and clattering and he hit cold pavement, and even then he only stopped long enough to coil his strength together before running again.

He didn't look back and he didn't stop. Cats were fast and they were fleet footed. They weren't meant to run for long periods of time, though, so as soon as Danny crashed into the woods he shifted into a small breed of hunting hound and kept running steadily ahead. It had to be near a mile before he felt as if his heart would beat right out of his chest and yet he still didn't stop. He couldn't. He couldn't.

If he stopped, for even a moment, then there was a chance he would be captured. There was a chance he would be captured, and killed, and he would find out that Vlad- As long as he kept running then he could pretend. He could pretend that he really could get away and get his memories back. He could pretend there was family out there waiting for him. He could pretend that Vlad was safe and had been fired and he was able to leave.

He wasn't sure how long it was or how long he had been running until the crunch of leaves and uneven dirt gave way for smooth, hard pavement once more, Danny gulping down air as he slowed only long enough to change back into the sleek form of a cat - and even then he didn't stay completely still. He couldn't. He was finally free. He was finally able to run and god- God. It was raining. It was raining. Danny hadn't felt rain since… He didn't know when, but it was more than five years ago, that was for sure.

Danny ran as he let the rain wash away his blood and soak him to the bone, the shivering so preferable to the burning, all consuming pain he had been feeling. He ran and he ran and he ran until he stumbled into an alleyway and saw the first human he had seen outside the labs. The man was probably a few years older than him, had scruffy black hair and green eyes, and looked to be having as bad a day as Danny.

He stopped only to get his breath back and let himself rest. That was it. Or at least, that was supposed to be it. Instead he had ended up curled up in the man's lap and not even hissing or minding the fingers that were running through his fur. Danny knew how bad days could make people unpredictable, but this man just looked like he wanted to go home, curl up into a ball, and cry.

Yeah, okay, so the guy was off his rocker insane thinking black cats were lucky and talking to him like he could understand everything he was saying, but Danny could handle being used as a cuddle toy for a few more minutes if it meant he didn't have to deal with a crying person.

Slumping against the fingers, Danny heaved a breath as it finally felt like his heart wasn't about to explode. 'Okay. Okay, your last name is Fenton. You're seventeen and you disappeared when you were twelve. Your birthday is April 3rd. Your full name is Daniel James Fenton and you're looking for your family, Jack, Madeline, and Jasmine Fenton. Your bedspread was blue and you liked glow in the dark stars and your favorite cartoon show had something to do with spaceships and aliens. You love the color purple. You and your family lived in Amity Park.'

Okay… Okay. He needed to find a way to get to this Amity Park. He wasn't sure which way he had run, but judging by the fact it had to be near the afternoon he had been running for hours, at least. He had never travelled outside the lab and it had been small, so he had probably been in a smaller lab simply so they didn't risk losing him in transport. That meant even if he wasn't in Amity Park, he had to be close. That meant they were close, too, though.

Right. Staying as a cat would be best right now. Cats were swift, agile, and small enough to not be seen. No doubt they would be searching the skies for a few weeks, so he had to be careful. They wouldn't expect him to stay as an animal for so long. The question was, how long would it take to convince them that he was dead or long gone? They had to assume he'd go back home, so was his family in danger? What if-

"Come on, petit chaton. Let's get out of this rain." Yowling as the human stood and jostled him, Danny was ready to bite and claw before the man was shifting the umbrella so Danny would stay dry and adjusting him carefully. "You are rather hurt, aren't you… Maybe Randy can help you."

Danny should jump. He should jump down, run away, and leave because otherwise he was about to be taken in as a pet… They wouldn't expect him to be a pet. 'You might have just saved my life, you know.' If he could hide out as a pet for a few weeks, it would at least give him time to decide on what to do.

"Well, since I've already lost my sanity by talking to a cat, let's assume you're smart enough to realize what I'm doing. My name is Andrew Riter and I'll be taking you somewhere where you can get food and medical treatment."

'Oh my god, you're a nerd. Do you go around to other animals and expect them to understand you? This isn't a Disney movie!' If nothing else, at least Danny knew he wasn't about to be cut open anymore. The crazy purple coat the guy was wearing might even be a good sign - purple had always been his lucky color. That was enough, for right now.

It had to be.