#and put up with three seasons of fucking Nonsense for it

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

So You Wanna 'Revive' Your Show

Hi Tim. This took me like ten minutes because I actually have two brain cells to rub together. <3

Give the 911 call center more to do. Linda and Sue especially in my opinion.

Go back to what made the show great in the first place which was the core characters becoming/being a family.

Mix up the dynamics. Remember Chim and Bobby's friendship in season one? Hen and Athena's bestieism? Bring that back along with some lesser seen dynamics. I want more of Chim and Karen's friendship. Have Maddie and Bobby work together on something. Pair Athena and Eddie together and have Athena realize just how like her husband Eddie is (and maybe in doing so they help each other get perspective on other things).

Give Bobby a promotion and have him deal with that (although so soon after he quit being an advisor and was clearly enjoying being captain might not work but something to consider).

Have Athena retire and become a private investigator.

More fun filler episodes. A bottle episode where they have a boring day at the station. An episode made up entirely of B shift or the non-firefam members of A shift like SG-1's The Other Guys. An episode entirely from Jee-Yun's point of view showing a young child's perspective of crazy silly adult drama. Boys Night Out/Girls Night Out a la Leverage. "Alternate universe" episodes like Bones' season four finale and Castle's Blue Butterfly episode.

Keep Buck single for a while and give him a safe haven baby. Another way to bond with Hen and Karen over adoption, another way to bond with his sister, and another way to bond with Bobby by making him a grandfather. And oh, hey, Eddie, you want to help me coparent?

Maybe stop having all of Eddie's important shit happen offscreen, I don't know if there's BTS beef or what but grow the fuck up and keep it out of the script. Professionalism, heard of it?

Make Buddie canon. Yes my bias is showing but it's what a large percentage of your audience and media reporters have been clambering after for years. Put guns to heads if you must. Jesus. You want to revitalize the show that's literally the number one way to do it. You dumbasses.

Okay I always said I didn't want it and I still don't but fine. fine! do a musical episode! if that's the price of Bobby's life I'll fucking pay it!!!

Maybe relearn the concept of arcs that last an entire season and not just two-three episodes.

Michael and David have a destination wedding and every single firefam member encounters some kind of emergency, either life-threatening or comedy-of-errors, that means they all show up looking like they got run over by trucks.

RASHOMON EPISODE. For either dramatic or comedic effect. Or both.

Everyone loved the heist episodes like The Taking of Dispatch 9-1-1 and Ocean's 9-1-1. Like come on you fuckwit let the show be fun again.

Actually commit to giving any of the main characters a pet. I know everyone wants Buck but it could be Athena and Bobby, Hen and Karen, Maddie and Chim... personally I would love to see Eddie get hit by the Cat Distribution System.

Firefighters do charity drives all the time, go to schools to do talks about fire safety - show the team interacting with the local community more. Show the parents interacting with their kids' schools or the parents of their friends' kids a bit more. I want to see Eddie and Karen fight the PTA.

It's not hard. That's what gets me. You don't actually worry about the show becoming stagnant. You just wanted to do a really big shocking holy shit episode that everyone would be talking about, forgetting that truly good shows earn those. Shit shows that pull that kind of nonsense lose their audience and get cancelled. You did it because you're a mediocre, boring, never-quite-popular-enough egotist with an inferiority complex who was luckily born with a dick so you fell upward your entire career, and you orgasm to other people's pain.

And for once in my life? I hope cast/crew do know my tumblr. I hope they are on here. I hope they fucking read this, and I hope they print it out and tape it to your office door and every other door on set they can manage like Martin fucking Luther. I want you to go to bed at night knowing you are despised and that a starving barely-breaking-even idiot who wrote a stripper!Buck fanfic knows more about television writing and comes up with better ideas than you do.

To quote David Lynch, fix your heart or die.

[skyshipper]

The Handmaid’s Tale: Spoilers & Long Rant

Full disclosure, I didn’t watch the series finale of The Handmaid’s Tale or the majority of the past several seasons. I have, however, read the recaps and saw the comments from the writers and Elisabeth Moss on the final episode. I was once a major fan of this show. It brought me into fandom life and to Tumblr, eventually learning how to make proper gifs and for that I am thankful. It’s been a wonderful creative outlet for me and a fun distraction from the stress of every day life. After all these years, I didn’t think this show could still enrage me but it has. I’ve seen the reaction from fans who stuck with this show over the years and you’re not crazy - the show is badly written.

The interviews from the writing team and Elisabeth Moss post-finale are full of condescension. Their final message has been to reduce the audience to “silly girls” for appreciating the romance in this story. A romance they continuously fueled by promoting “Team Nick/Team Luke” nonsense via marketing (which was ridiculous and insulting by the way). I keep thinking about how they feel like Aunt Lydia trying to shame and dismiss anyone in the audience who cared about Nick’s character and the romance themes in this story as foolish girls. It’s insulting and gross.

I haven’t watched this show since early season three because I thought the writing was terrible and off the rails once they went off book. But I always kept up with Nick’s scenes because I thought Max gave a beautiful and nuanced portrayal of that character. More than anything I’m disturbed by how they’ve treated Max Minghella. I’ve seen the comments from some of the cast and the writers. They constantly bring up his looks as a driving motivator for the reason people cared about his character. To reduce his brilliant performance to nothing more than the audience thinking "he's hot" is unprofessional to the extreme. It’s rude and mean to both the actor and the fans.  I keep thinking of the comment I saw where Max said he wondered if he was playing his character wrong this entire time when he read his character arc for the final season. When the narrative doesn’t make sense to the actor who portrayed him and put time and effort into the performance, there is no other explanation than that it was completely contrived. And no surprise, that is how it came off to the audience.

A major problem with this show (god there are so many I could write a fucking novel) has always been that the initial terror of living inside the regime of Gilead was real and horrifying in season one. It was impossible to get out or have the slightest bit of autonomy so the act of love was the ultimate form of resistance. They ruined all the horror felt in the first season by making it very easy for people to come and go from Gilead to the point of absurdity. They gave characters the most insane plot armor and wrote to “scenes” instead of storylines that made actual sense. June had the ultimate and most insane plot armor of them all, but there are many, many others.  Look at someone like Janine. I love Madeline Brewer (as an aside, she really deserved an award for her brilliant performance in season one), but her plot armor was ridiculous. She was a Handmaid, sent to the colonies, a Jezebel, a Handmaid again…..I think!? I don’t even know what they all did with her but the fact she wasn’t dead at some point was laughable. And I don't mean that I wanted her dead, I wanted them to write a storyline that made sense for an insanely talented actress. The writers often treated these characters like dolls in a toy box inserting them in whatever way the felt like at the moment instead of telling a believable story.

Throughout the years the writing failed the majority, if not all, of the main cast members. They spent way too much time on guest character arcs that went nowhere instead of writing a believable  progression for the full-time brilliant cast members they had. For example, I’m no Luke fan, but his character and even Moira had nothing to do once they made it to Canada. I genuinely felt bad for the actors who are very talented and were left for years with nothing of substance to do. They should have mapped out the main cast storylines in believable ways from the beginning instead of adding all these guest stars whose storylines often filled no purpose. The cast and source material have always been top notch it's a shame the writing failed them so spectacularly.

Other major issues throughout the series include not addressing race in the rise of Gilead (not to mention how may black women died because of June's stupidity), how they relished in torture porn (how many times did they show women being abused for the sake of shock value) and pushing a narrative of feminism that basically can be reduced to women are good no matter what atrocities the commit (I’m looking at you Serena) and all men are bad by virtue of being male. The fact that they had June become friends with and forgive Serena is disgusting and implausible. The first time this show really angered me was when they had Serena hold down June and rape her so that she could get her baby faster (a disgusting episode written by Yahlin Chang who was a co-showrunner this season). In the end these two women are suddenly fine and friendly because “women rock,” I guess.

The failures are many and the successes few. This show really did have a brilliant first season but they majorly lost the story as soon as they ran out of source material from Margaret Atwood. Long term fans deserved better. Margret Atwood’s source material deserved better. Max Minghella and Nick deserved better. So long Handmaid’s Tale. You were an epic disappointment and often insulting.

P.S. If you want to go watch a brilliant show about fascism please go watch Andor. I’ve said it before but even if you’ve never watched a Star Wars show or movie in your life, it’s incredible. It is brilliantly written, had an incredible cast and is perfectly executed. The story is wonderfully told, the characters feel realistic, their outcomes are often not predictable yet their ultimate conclusions feel true and deeply satisfying.  If only The Handmaid’s Tale could have been written the same way.

[g1rld1ary]

wrapping paper - james potter x reader

wc: 873

cw: literally nothing just fluff!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Your tiny apartment was filled with warm yellow light, a dozen lamps switched on in favour of the aggressive white overhead lights. In the corner of the living room-kitchen-entryway sat a Christmas tree, eclectically decorated with colourful tinsel, nostalgic ornaments and twinkling fairy lights.

A random array of books, drinks and other objects lay strewn across the floor, organised into specific but nonsensical piles that only made sense to you and James, divided by a mass of wrapping paper scraps and tape. You sat on one end of the living room humming along to Bing Crosby whilst James sat a few feet away, allegedly wrapping gifts but more realistically creating a mess for the both of you to clean up later.

You’d learned recently through a Christmas discussion that James had never wrapped presents the muggle way so that had obviously become the theme of your holiday season. James wasn’t the biggest fan of it, he thought it was a waste of time to not be using magic, but put up with it for the sole reason of spending time with you. You’d tried your absolute hardest to teach him, but something about the folding and sticking was simply not clicking for your golden boy.

You couldn’t help the river of giggles that poured from your mouth, encouraged by James’ seemingly total inability to wrap a box. A box! Something oddly shaped you would have understood more, but a plain square box is the wrapped gift. Surely if people had been doing it for hundreds of years it couldn’t be that difficult, yet there you both were, James becoming increasingly frustrated at how entertaining you found the whole ordeal.

“You’re making a mess,” You managed, hand over your mouth to cope with the slow destruction of your cute, tidy living room. A few giggles cut through the horror.

“Shut up and pass me the tape,” He grumbled, folding the paper around a package in a way that you were sure defied the laws of physics. Your giggles devolved into full laughter, putting away the sharp pointy scissors before you impaled yourself as you rolled on the carpet, hysterical and maybe slightly drunk on eggnog.

“There’s more tape than wrapping paper!” James shook his head vehemently at your statement, holding the project in his hands.

“Nuh-uh, there’s a whole heap of paper here! Three layers, maybe…” He trailed off in embarrassment, dropping the package to roll sadly on the carpet. “I don’t understand why we’re even doing it without magic. It would be so much faster! Then we could get to the good parts of the holidays.” He wiggled his eyebrows in what was undoubtedly an attempt to be seductive. You shook your head, not in the mood to get tape in your hair if James pounced on you. Plus, you had a Christmas party later in the evening which was precisely why you were wrapping presents in the first place.

“We're doing it because it’s tradition in my family to wrap presents together the muggle way, and I want to start traditions with you, Jamie.” James’ eyes softened, pools of adoration as he undid the present and started again more gently. It wasn’t exactly good, but he was getting better.

“When we have kids they’re gonna be better at this than you when they’re toddlers,” You teased him gently, but James couldn’t bring himself to reply, enamoured with the way you said ‘when we have kids’ so easily, like it was a no brainer.

James’ arm around you was warm as you stood on Remus and Sirius’ doorstep, rubbing your side softly. He knocked on the door as you held the grocery store bag full of gifts, one of James’ Frankenstein creations sitting on the top.

Remus opened the door, smile widening when he saw you both.

“Come in!” He ushered you both inside, enfolding you in tight hugs one by one. You kissed his cheek as you passed, making a beeline for the Christmas tree.

“The fuck are those?” Marlene said from the couch, using the martini in her hand to gesture to the admittedly extremely ugly presents you were arranging next to those already there.

“Don’t even start with this, McKinnon,” James rolled his eyes playfully, “I’ve been in a losing battle all bloody day.”

“James and I shared the wrapping between us,” You supplied, causing uproarious laughter and closer examination of the gifts by the rest of the small party.

“You’re useless, mate,” Sirius clapped James on the shoulder as if his own wrapped presents were any better.

“Alright! It’s the thought that counts and we happen to have bought you all some lovely gifts, so lets focus on that shall we?” He began to hand out everyones gifts, effectively ending the verbal attacks raining down on him.

You all sat around Sirius and Remus’ living room, opening gifts and laughing together over eggnog. You might’ve been getting older, but at least you had your friends. At least you had James, who’d always make your wrapping look at least a little better than it was.

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

00.1. how it happened:

➴ warnings: none!!

➴ word count: 1.2k

➴ author’s note: welcome everyone!! as i promised, here’s the start to our fuck buddies jack ‘n soph series<3 hope u love them as much as i do!

—♡

IT all started as a joke.

Not your career, no, that was very serious. Sometimes you still couldn’t believe how big you’d gotten. Seriously, it was like magic. People now paid to see your concerts, asked to take pictures with you and related to your songs, your situations.

How crazy was that?

But that isn’t the main joke.

It all started a few weeks after the release of your single, Nonsense. You were alone in your home studio, doing some writing and recording a few ad-libs for your new upcoming album— all songs dedicated to your shitty, fucking cheater of an ex, yeah— when Grace, your best friend and manager, barged in with her phone on her hands.

“Jesus,” you said, putting your hand over your heart. “Don’t you know how to knock? You literally scared the shit out of me, dumbass.”

“Knocking is for the weak. Also, I need to show you this. Ain’t no time for knocking.”

She sat on the chair beside you and showed you her phone. It was some kind of TikTok but even if you tried to understand what it was, you couldn’t.

“So?” Grace asked, a huge smile on her face.

“Hum,” you said, sounding uncertain. “Cool video! Are you leaving me for a TikTok career?”

She laughed out loud. “What?! You’re such a dumbass sometimes,” she showed you her phone again. “This, my love, is the New Jersey Devils account.”

“People who praise the devil like my songs? Didn’t see that coming…”

“Sophia, don’t you fucking tell me you don’t know who they are!” Grace furrowed her eyebrows.

“Hum… I do?” You lied.

She made a weird sound, which sounded a lot like a frustrated scream.

“They’re hockey players, they are in the NHL, National Hockey League. And this video alone has three million likes. And why, you ask me, little puppy,” Grace started using her theater kid voice and you rolled your eyes.

“Probably because they’re hot, I don’t know?”

“I thought that too. But then, I went to check the comments, and all of them were talking about your songs. So I watched the video and I realised, half of the team, grown ass men, were listening to your songs!”

Raising your eyebrows in shock, you watched the video again. And Grace was right. It was one of those “what are you listening to?” videos, but with a bunch of men wearing suits. And at least half of them said one of your songs. Mostly Nonsense, Espresso, Read Your Mind, and, shockingly, one of them even said one of your oldest songs.

Apart from that, the video’s caption said “should we make a Sophia Montenegro x NJ Devils collab??” and, to your absolute surprise, more than a half of the comments said “yes, collab, please!”

Which made you laugh. You were used to all sorts of people listening to your music. Kids, teens, adults, even old people sometimes, but hockey players? Those big ass men who liked to beat each other up during the games?

“That’s new, huh.”

“Apparently, people went crazy over the fact that they listen to your songs. And that’s not even the best part,” Grace squirmed. “Their marketing team reached out to your marketing team,” she pointed to herself. “And they asked you to perform at one of their charity dinners next month!”

You both yelled and jumped out of your seats to hug each other and jump around— being careful with her new Goddess braids. You were so grateful to have someone like Grace to help you out.

“This is, like, a huge thing for you, honey,” Grace teared up a little bit. She cried almost every time you got a new job. “They want to set up a meeting with you, nothing too fancy. They said something about the end of the hockey season and whatever that means, they want you in it.”

“That’s awesome, right?” You smiled. “I’m certain that you said yes already but I’m still going to ask you. Did you?”

“Duh, ‘course I did. You have a meeting with,” she looked at her phone again, reading something. “Shanon Anand tomorrow morning.”

“I love you, Grace Morgan.” You whispered, looking at the woman in front of you, your heart feeling full and warm.

“I love you too, Sophia Montenegro. Let’s rock some hockey boys.”

—♡

TURNS out that Shanon Anand is a very beautiful woman, with Indian features and a smile that would make any dentist proud.

“We are very pleased to have you here, Mrs. Montenegro.” She had a bit of an accent and it was so cute.

You smiled. “Thank you. It’s an honor, really. And please, call me Sophia.”

“Alright, Sophia it is,” she smiled back. “So, I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Hockey world but we’re currently walking towards the end of the seven month season.”

“I have to be honest with you, all I know about hockey is that they skate on the ice and beat each other up. That’s about it, I fear.” You felt your face getting warm.

“It’s alright, dear, no one’s going to ask you questions about Power Plays or penalties,” Shanon laughed and you sighed, thankful. Interviews were something you actually enjoyed doing but answering questions you didn’t really know the answer sucked. “We will hold a charity gala next month, and Grace told us you are available?”

“I am, yeah,” you opened your planner, looking at your summer schedule. “I do have to be in California by the second week of April to perform at Coachella but before that, I’m free.”

“You would be needed in the last week of April, on the 30th. Is that okay?”

“I think so, yes,” you nodded. “Do you have a preference for a performance or?”

Shanon grabbed a huge binder and opened it. “Actually, we do have a few requests, I hope you and your team don’t mind them,” you nodded, grabbing a pen just in case you needed to write anything. “First things first, we’d really like it if you kept it all PG,” she smiled, looking embarrassed.

You laughed, nodding with your head. “I expected it already. Don’t worry, I’ll try to keep my dirty mouth closed.”

“Perfect, thank you. Besides that, we’d request for at least three songs, and if you could maybe sing an acoustic version of them? It’s a night event and the vibes we’re going for are like, jazz club? Sorry if it sounds confusing, we’re still working on the details.”

“Acoustic? Yeah, ‘course. Do you have any songs in mind?”

“No, we thought it’d be better if you chose them. What suits your voice better and all of that.” Shanon ran her hands through her hair and blinked twice in a row. She looked stunning, but tired.

“Alright, I’ll think of a few options.” You nodded again.

“At the end of it, we’d like to take a picture of you with a Devils jersey, if you don’t mind?” She sounded hopeful.

“I don’t, really. I’m fine with it.”

“Perfect!”

The meeting didn’t last long after that and your mind was working really fast to try to have everything perfect. You still had more than a month to prepare so you knew everything was going to be fine.

At least you hoped so.

[hotchtits]

go on bby. talk about hotch. as much as you want ill read it all

*kisses you on the mouth sloppy style*

How I feel about this character

AAARGSHHSIDK AA AAAJDJEJ AHHHDJSJSJ

uh i mean he’s cool i guess.

no all jokes aside there are very few characters that are doing it like him.

he’s the leader of one of the most elite teams in the FBI. he’s a wet cat. he’s the epitome of traditional heterosexuality. he’s a boy kisser. he’s cold and distant. he loves his team more than anything in the world. he’s the next best profiler after gideon. he’s a massive idiot and a dork who collects coins. he’s got the skill level of a sniper/marksman. he does most of his team's paperwork so they can focus in the field. he’s no nonsense and straight laced. he seriously considered using web shooters at the FBI. he frequently catches an attitude with his boss, bigoted cops, and generally people in higher positions of power than him (and they just kind of take it). he has enough connections to get the italian government to revoke diplomatic immunity of a vatican priest. he's on a first name basis with the attorney general. he's kind of (at first) an absent father. he's a single mother of 6. he killed a man with his bare hands. he's so unbelievably gentle. he’s a white guy in a basic ass suit. he serves unprecedented levels of cunt.

what i keep coming back to is how much he cares. he cares about victims, he cares about unsubs (the ones that had justifiable reasons for being the way they are), more than anything he cares about his team.

the lengths he goes to to protect them or even just let them know he's there for them. he doesn't raise his voice, even when he's furious and when they lash out at him, he just absorbs it. aaaaaaugh. even roy, who hates his guts, he still cares about and still tries to make nice with for the sake of his son still having a grandparent in his life.

long story short i love aaron hotchner for all of his fucked up ways, big wet eyes, and self sacrificing demeanor.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

am i insane for saying the whole team? poly bau has a special place in my heart. i think he should get to have several boyfriends and several girlfriends. and his boyfriends are boyfriends and his girlfriends are girlfriends and they're all just happy.

hotch x happiness thats actually my favorite ship.

i mainly go for hotchgan, though, they make me want to rip my hair out. their push and pull, their similarities, hotch's head vs morgan's heart. kill me please.

i feel like him and rossi couldve also had a thing back in the preshow days. they give The Subway by chappell roan when he comes back in season three there is nothing casual about them.

hotchley before the divorce was so sweet :( i have such mixed feelings though because i can see how both of them would be frustrated with the other.

john blackwolf gets to be here as a treat because i think they would be absolutely destroy a buddy cop comedy thats actually a slowburn enemies to lovers. im aware this is just the plot of The Tribe.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

jessica brooks. im being so serious she stepped up in a way that very few others did. her offering to look after jack after hailey dies, staying with him when hotch gets called away, defending him against roy. also their banter is wonderful they r sooo siblings to me.

him and garcia are a very close second. obviously her and morgan are It but we gotta start putting some respect on him and garcia because

“i know you see the best in people, and i’d never want you to change that”

and the way she stayed with him when he collapsed in s9 aaarggh.

also hotchniss but as a wlw/bisexual friendship. they both agree that hotch has awful taste in men and that emily is a useless lesbian.

My unpopular opinion about this character

i mentioned this in someone else’s ask about unpopular HCs but i dont think he’s this #daddydom character in bed that people write him as. (disclaimer, headcanons are headcanons and im not bashing them, this is just what i think)

i can see him being dominant in bed (tho im a sub!hotch truther) but i dont think he’d go in for sadism or degrading or anything like that. given his childhood abuse, i cant imagine he’d enjoy hitting his partner or making them cry (even if it is consensual). in the show, he's very overtly gentle, especially with the people he loves.

i also dont think he’d enjoy a big age gap relationship with a subordinate either (i also see this being floated around). my man is a stickler for the rules and if theres a fraternization policy, i doubt he’d break it. im aware i sound like a massive hypocrite bc i ship him w the team but im mainly talking about x reader pairings here.

i was actually gonna put a different headcanon here but i saw a stepdad!hotch x reader fic and i,,, just,,, no. again write whatever you want but he Would Not Fucking Do That lmao.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

PISSED BEYOND BELIEF WE NEVER GOT AN “AARON” EPISODE

i guess 100 was kind of in the same vein but Reid got both “Revelations” and “Spencer” so i think we deserved an “Aaron”

for the love of god expand on his backstory. he was sent off to boarding school, he was a lawyer, a federal prosecutor, he was on SWAT, he's an accomplished sniper, he was with the BAU for something like 8 years before the show started i think. where is he finding the time for this?

[cccakessslicemeee]

+some thoughts but I don't have the time to create a full fic so uh... Here if you like?

Season 3 spoilers??? Yeah read at your own risk

I guess also season 1 spoilers???

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Y'all think there's a world where Riz takes on so much fucking stress his heart gives out and his mom is the first person to find him home and dead?

Papers all over the place. Kristen's campaign scattered across his desk. No sign of a struggle, lukewarm coffee on the desk. He worked himself to death.

And she just has to have a second to really process what this bullshit friend group is putting her baby through. Are they even his friends? Why is he putting his blood, sweat, and tears into their bullshit? Why can't they step the fuck up?

She has him revived and brings him to a hospital because gods know how long it's been since he's had a real check up. She's fuming.

Riz feels like absolute shit. Sure he's alive but the tension all over is still there and his chest still kinda hurts. Ugh. This sucks.

He doesn't fight with his mom or the doctors he kind of wishes everyone would fucking shut the fuck up. The lights are too bright and everyone's voice is three times higher than it needs to be. Man what level do wizards or whatever get to be able to casts zone of silence?

What follows next is the biggest crash from burnout. It swallows Riz whole and puts him in a functional depression but he doesn't have the energy to do literally anything. He doesn't say a word to his friends about what happened because honestly it's just so fucking dumb. They don't need to know.

Sklonda probably pops off when her and Gorthalax have dinner or whatever. Obviously I don't think she'd bad mouth Fig Infront of her father but boy shitting howdy does she have essays about Fabian and Kristen. Everyone honestly probably has essays to spew about Kristen and her nonsense but regardless.

Gorthalax very subtly tries to mention something to fig but she figures that shit out real quick and oh fuck Riz was so stressed out his heart popped. She goes german shepherd about it and makes a lotta stops at Riz's place. Only to her surprise Riz is not in his business casual. Who the fuck is this guy? It's Riz but he's swimming in sweaters and he looks so tired. He doesn't want her here right now he doesn't feel good.

There's a long pause between the pair before Riz knows that she knows and they both feel so fucking bad.

"I went to bard class today. And I'm gonna go again tomorrow."

"...so you're doing what you're supposed to do? Finally? Congratulations?"

"Yeah...so everyone's at Mordred if you wanna pop over? Lydia made so much chili-you know how she do."

"I do, know she cooks for an army. Thanks for stopping by but I really just want to sleep. Save me some?"

"No promises. You can sleep at the manner with us. No one can get into my room so like if you wanna be left alone you can be alone but with us?"

"I would really appreciate being truly just alone right now. Thanks."

"That sucks. I miss your face. Can I come in?"

"Please don't. Fig I really can't. Please just leave me alone. I don't want to be bothered. "

"Is it because it's me? Because like I could go get Fabian or Adine."

"No. Sometimes people just want to be alone."

"Oh. Okay I get that. Yeah so if you need me I'll just be outside the door."

"Fucking hell-no. NO! I want to be left entirely alone. Please go back to the manner. It's gonna be so weird if you just hover at my door."

"Well it's that or I crash on your couch? Or you come to the manor? "

"Why are you like this?"

"I went shepherded mode. Sorry. I promise to shut up if you let me inside. Please?"

For the first time in his life he thinks about putting a hole in his friends chest. For only a half second. Fig is just being herself and this is how she shows love. By being a clingy pain in the ass. He begrudgingly lets her inside because if he doesn't he'll never get to sleep again. She'll do something about it.

He goes to bed. She watches the fantasy equivalent of legally blonde and whatever else comes across the T.V.

Riz loses the desire to do anything. His clue board looks fucked up but he couldn't care less. His briefcase feels so damn heavy in his hand now, the suits are so damn restrictive and hard to breathe in. The necktie his father gave him feels like a noose now. Ugh. It's too much. He's a bad son whatever, worse agent.

Maybe his dad calls to check in. He was doing a mission wasn't he? He doesn't have the stomach to lie to his dad so he just doesn't pick up. Can't lie if you don't say anything right? He can apologize later when he doesn't feel as shitty.

Riz spends a lot of time in bed doing nothing. It's such a hard pivot and Sklonda has no idea how to handle this. She tries.

Fig tells the bad kids that Riz is in a funk and she blames herself because she's probably the reason his heart popped. When they get the gritty deets I think it ticks something in all their brains collectively and they crack down on the school bullshit. Mainly helping Kristen and Fig through their stuff and Gorgug you can't really do much for him because the teacher hates him but they still try.

Riz doesn't want to do a fucking thing. He just wants to sleep. Fabian sees Riz in a state of being similar to his mom and it's wild. He doesn't know how to handle that.

"Riz if you don't get the fuck up, I'm going to stab you."

"you know where the door is. You can leave."

And Fabian stabs Riz in his side. The goblin frenzy's so hard bc what the fuck man that shit hurts why are you being a huge piece of shit ow! There's blood on my sheets you pompous asshole.

They have a fight. It's more of like a pissed off cat clawing the shit out of its owner and the owner just trying not to lose an eye while lil Tiffany calms the fuck down.

Fabian hog ties Riz and they go to Mordred Manor where Kristen was practicing her campaign speeches Infront of a wide audience of Zayne Dark shadow, Jawbone, Sandra Lynn, Adine, and quite possibly a couple of other spirits just floating about. She's really stepped up her game and even put on a clip on tie! God she's so like, professional now. Maybe she's got a suit on bc she's really fucking trying.

Riz is kind of impressed. Like it's still not good but the effort Kristien is pouring into this still counts for something. And it's better than it was before.

Jawbone probably cheers for her. "Hell yeah, Fetty Wap. ((Who the fuck is that?))" And Adine has to whisper explain it to him.

Sandra Lynn sees something in Riz she can relate to and she doesn't like that. He's so young. He shouldn't be having those feelings. Jawbone clocks it too but doesn't get in the way or dog pile Riz. For now they put him at the table and just try to get him something to eat. No appetite. Go figure. They've seen him inhale food before and three bites (pretty generous honestly) of chili are not enough to fill his belly. There ain't no way.

Adine sees Riz's fucked up foot and she looks to Fabian already knowing what happened. "Did you stab him?"

"it was a friendly stabbing. Thank you. It got him up and out of bed."

And Fabian is also covered in claw marks and several bites

"well I suppose that's true."

Kristen's got it. She heals up Riz's foot and Fabian's everything.

Riz tries to leave after a lil bit but they won't let him. He really wants some space. Everyone's kinda suffocating him in a way where they are trying *not* to be on top of him. It sucks.

Riz does something crazy. He slips off his shoes and socks and climbs out the window getting on the roof just to get away from all the "Riz would you like to..., Riz could you.., Riz come here a second.." he needs to breathe.

When he gets to the rooftop Sandra Lynn is there smoking a clove. "You have a high tolerance." She remarks.

"yeah well... Yeah." He sighs.

"you want me to leave? If you promise not to fling yourself from the rooftop I'll let you have the roof."

"I'm not gonna make Kristen waste her spell slots on me."

That's horribly telling.

"kiddo... What good is a cleric who doesn't heal her friends? That's kinda the whole point of having revivify and greater restoration. Isn't that why YOU ripped a defibrillator off the wall on freshman year?"

His ears bounce. "How do you even know about that?"

She laughs. "Jawbone does not stop talking about you guys. They haven't had the time or the funding to replace that one in the cafeteria you yanked yet he was complaining about it being a safety hazard and I asked who would be dumb enough to rip that thing off the walls."

"Oh. Wow. That feels like a lifetime ago."

"Doesn't it?" She muses. "Hey. I know Jawbone is a lot to some people but if you need to talk to anyone and it's not him he knows a lot of other reputable people."

"why does everyone think that? I'm perfectly fine."

"...Are you? You took your shoes off to climb the manor. It's a pretty long climb."

Frustrated. "Did you know I'd be up here?"

"You think you're the only one who needs a breather? I love my daughters so much but there are times I have to get the fuck away from them. I'd do anything for them. Anything. But sometimes I have to take a puff of a clove and not be near them and their energy. It's not because I don't love them, I wish I could tolerate the nonsense as well as Jawbone does. Truly. But some people have thinner nerves and weaker stomachs."

"it's because of Kristen isn't it?"

She smiles and then shrugs. "It's because of Kristen this time, but mostly because I see myself in Fig and I can do almost nothing to stop her from walking in the same direction I did when I was her age. I think you help her with that, you all do so before I run my mouth all night thank you for making sure my daughter has good friends who love her."

"I know she loves me a lot too. I don't get it with her...nonsense but I know she loves me and that means a lot."

"I have love for you too kiddo. Don't feel like you can't reach out to any of us. Okay?"

"...yeah. thanks."

Sandra Lynn smiles. She ruffles his hair a little bit then goes back inside so Riz can stare at the stars until the sun comes up. Tomorrow is another day.

[maxdibert]

Omg Sansa Starkk!!!! The TV show did her so dirty. Holy shit, they took a complicated layered character (every character of asoiaf is complicated and layered actually) and gave her the most dismissive interpretation possible.

Fuck, when I heard the criticism against game of thrones, it being sexist and the depiction of violence against women, teenager me dismissed it. Then I read the books, and I agree with every criticism 😭

Sansa irritated me in the first couple episodes of season 1, until everything turned and it became a helish nightmare for her and then I felt immense sympathy for her. In the books, she became my instant favorite.

Even Arya had more layers and complexity in the books. Arya was much more human in the books, loved it.

The show assassinated several characters—it didn’t just simplify some, like Sansa, but outright destroyed others. For example, they turned Arya into a complete psychopath, period. The Arya from the last three or four seasons had literally zero personality; she was just a badass who killed people, that’s it. She would put on her psycho killer face, and that was her entire character. She was only there so the male audience could jerk off.

And then there’s Daenerys’ character assassination. And listen, this is coming from someone who can’t stand Daenerys and found her chapters in the books unbearably boring. But even so, I can’t stand it when characters are disrespected in certain ways, and what they did to Daenerys at the end was a complete disgrace. She went from being one of the main characters, always framed as good, positive, and revolutionary by the narrative, to literally a crazy, sociopathic, genocidal maniac—it made zero sense. I’m not saying it couldn’t have happened. Sure, you could spend two more seasons showing how she descends into madness. But don’t do it in three episodes—that’s just pure nonsense. Plain and simple.

And well, WELL—I won’t even get into the rant that is, for me, the biggest crime of the entire trash show: THE CHARACTER ASSASSINATION OF JAIME LANNISTER. Jaime is one of my absolute favorite characters in the saga, and his redemption arc is one of the best I’ve ever seen. It’s truly a masterpiece of storytelling. I can accept that the show’s Jaime was more meh and had less charisma, but what I can’t accept is that after setting up a redemption arc so well, they ended it like that. Like, WHAT. They should have just killed him off during the Long Night—seriously, I wish they had done that. It would have been less painful. What a complete disaster.

Anyway, back to Sansa. She has always been my favorite character from the very beginning, in both the books and the show. I also think she’s a particularly interesting character when it comes to analyzing misogyny within fandoms. Both book Sansa and show Sansa get endless hate for one simple reason: she’s a normal girl. Sansa isn’t a dragon queen, she isn’t a ruler, she isn’t a rebel like her sister. Sansa is just a regular aristocratic girl with regular dreams for a girl of her age and status—someone who has always lived in a bubble. And her reactions, her doubts, and her fears are exactly what any normal person in her situation would have.

And that’s what audiences can’t stand—first, because she’s a reflection of themselves, since most people would act and react like Sansa, not like Arya. And second, because in a patriarchal view of women, a female character is only acceptable if she has traditionally masculine traits (she leads like a man, fights like a man, speaks like a man). A female character with flaws, whose personality isn’t masculine but also doesn’t cater to male fantasies, is unacceptable—so she becomes a constant target.

So yeah, as I’ve been saying for over ten years: hating Sansa Stark is misogyny, and I will not elaborate on this because I don’t do free education for misogynists.

[slyvester101]

Club au where the reds and blues work at a club that Carolina owns and totally doesn’t use as a cover for the undercover work she’s doing in the city with the Freelancers to take her corrupt asshole of a father down.

Church, being Carolina’s sister, hangs around the club basically every night since he gets free drinks and has become the official unofficial manager and recruiter for the place since Carolina and the Freelancers are usually too busy going on missions to take down warehouses or gang members working for her dad, planning missions in the rooms upstairs, or acting as innocent members of society that totally aren’t plotting to kill the Director and tear his illegal operations down.

The first of the reds and blues he hires is Sarge and Lopez, who are the club���s cooks. Sarge haphazardly tosses ingredients into a bowl and it comes out edible somehow? He doesn’t even toss in the necessary ingredients for the food; he put a chicken, a bag of chips, a whole bottle of garlic seasoning and a watermelon into the oven and out comes a beef burger with loaded fries. Lopez is in agony trying to figure out how he does it. But it always ends up good. In fact, it’s so good that it ups the club's foot traffic and creates a much better cover to all the cartel members coming in and out to talk with the Freelancers.

Grif and Simmons come next, Grif being the no nonsense bartender who gets to listen to all the juicy gossip going around the club as well as the annoying drama that gets dragged to his bar. He makes a damn good drink so the bar gets a little crowded when he’s clocked in and he complains endlessly to Simmons.

Simmons is a waiter/occasional assistant cook who can guess a person’s order just by looking at them (something about statistics and body language and a bunch of stuff that Grif calls him a nerd for) as well as know their intent and reason for being there with just a couple words. He weeds out a lot of undercover cops. They both get scolded since they constantly get distracted while flirting talking at the bar.

Tucker was next, a dancer with enough spunk and spite to fill the whole club and moves that leave everyone jaw dropped and star stricken. He loves dancing and loves entertaining the crowd even though he has to deal with a lot of shit (he can split-kick a sucker unconscious if they even think about touching him because unfortunately, people think they have the right to touch you when you show off a little skin and dance in front of a crowd. Sometimes people think they have the right to touch you just because you exist and they’re an asshole). But it pays well and he gets the freetime to spend with his son, who is the main reason he works hard for those extra tips to support him, so it makes up for the less favorable situations.

Caboose and Donut were hired one right after the other; Caboose being a bouncer who knows every patron by name (not always the right one) and can carry three full grown men over his shoulder with a smile on his face; Donut being a DJ/event planner/decorator extraordinaire and is basically just an assistant manager at this point with how much work he does with Church to keep the club up and running, but he refuses to take the title because it doesn’t “fit his vibes”.

All the reds and blues know some kind of illegal shit is going on with their bosses, but they stay willfully ignorant about it and only get involved when they think something will put the club at risk. They all love the club and all the people who work there so they work hard to keep it from being shut down by cops or blown to hell by a rival gang or whoever the fuck their bosses are fighting.

That being said, they’re all rather wary of the Freelancers despite Church’s insistence that they’re not bad people (mostly) and wouldn’t bring any harm to them (probably). Things are civil between the two groups, especially since the Freelancers are the one writing their checks, but there’s this underlying tension and nervousness that no one can seem to break.

The Freelancers are kind of disheartened that Church’s friends aren’t really keen to talk to them more than they have to, especially the dancer who hasn’t said more than a word to any of them and will literally get up and leave in the middle of a conversation to avoid talking to them.

This changes with the addition of Caboose and Donut, the two balls of sunshine giving the club a bit more energy, a lot more color, and a bit more balance.

No one is willing to anger the giant bouncer who can easily lift a table with one hand and the feisty DJ who can get you banned for life with another. There’s a lot less creeps roaming around and the whole club seems to relax at the changes Donut makes to the club and the safety Caboose brings.

Carolina seems to lighten up around Caboose, which in turn makes the reds and blues feel less on edge since she doesn’t look like she’s gonna murder one of them. York and North are finally able to get some more friendly conversation outta Grif and Simmons after Donut gets York and Simmons on a rant about hacking as North and Grif snicker at their geeky counterparts. (“I am not a geek! I am a nerd! There is a difference!” “The fact that you know the difference between a nerd and a geek makes you a geek.”)

Maine, who would sometimes work as a bouncer when not on a mission, finds Caboose rather companionable and likes to stand with him outside and listen to him chat during downtime. South comes by a lot more because Donut has somehow started a passive aggressive off between her, himself, and Tucker (and occasionally Church but he’s more overtly aggressive so he doesn’t really count). It’s a lot more fun than it sounds. Connie likes chatting with Donut and adores the gossip sessions she can get outta him, Grif and Simmons. There is a lot of tea to be shared around the bar.

Everyone agrees to keep Wyoming and Florida from meeting Sarge. That is a war crime waiting to happen.

Wash isn’t at the club often (none of the Freelancers are) and instead drowns himself in work with Carolina, planning and plotting and mapping and debating. He’s a bit more standoffish, a bit more gritty and a lot more like his Recovery One counterpart in canon. He’s cold, he’s calculative, he’s bitter, but he’s also patient and knows they can’t rush their takeover of the Director. It worries the other freelancers, seeing how mean and withdrawn he’s become, especially after knowing him as the upbeat, if nervous and oblivious rookie who did everything he was told with a smile and a lot of puns.

But he’s still convinced to come out for drinks to relax after a particularly stressful mission that went off without a hitch. For as distant as he’s become, he’s still a softy underneath and caves at York and North’s insistence that he needs to let loose a little after spending so much time under duress.

Wash hasn’t looked around the main level of the club since Tucker, Caboose, and Donut have been hired and is rather surprised by how lively and joyful the club has become. Caboose greets him with a smile at the door, happily introducing himself to the “new friend” coming into the club. He calls Wash “Mister Washingtub” and helpfully tells him that it’s performers night, so be nice and respectful to everyone who goes on stage or be kicked to the curb. Wash doesn’t doubt that with how massive the guy is.

When they walk in, he gets an armful of bright pink and a chipper blonde man guiding him and the other Freelancers to a reserved seating area near the front of the stage. York and North laugh at his face as he’s dragged by the hand of this upbeat man.

The whole club has changed since he was last there, much more open and welcoming, the decorations not as drab or outdated and the bar and stage have been renovated into something Wash can only describe as glamorous. Even the patrons and workers have changed, more smiles and jovial laughs echoing over the music, more people dancing on the floor or chatting at the bar. It’s so full of life and excitement that Wash is half convinced he walked into the wrong building.

He reacquaints himself with Simmons, the no longer skittish waiter with clumsy hands. He gets a polite smile from him before he rushes back to the bar to chat with Grif, the much more relaxed and not quite as grumpy bartender.

Wash is still reeling a little by the time the music stops and the man in pink is up on the stage starting up the event of the night. Singer after dancer after comedian go on and on throughout the night, entertaining the crowd and adding to the high spirits of the place.

It all comes to head during the final act, a dancer who has the whole crowd applauding before he’s even on stage.

Lavernius Tucker.

Wash is just as hypnotized as the rest of the crowd as Tucker swings and dips and spins around the pole on the center stage, showing impressive feats of strength as he pulls himself up and flips around with poise and precision. It’s beautiful and artistic and you can tell how much love and work has gone into the man’s routine.

The dance ends with thunderous applause and Wash sits there in awe at this graceful dancer taking bows and tips at the front of the stage.

Maybe he should come to the club more often.

[lightdancingwords]

One Day - Part Three of ?

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character

Series Summary: You were rescued by Dean Winchester a long time ago. Over time, you kept bumping into each other.

Word Count: 2948

Tags/Warnings: Violence, profanity, angst, argument, monsters/supernatural, grief and death

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! This story is AU as it does veer a bit from the history we see in Season 1 of Supernatural. There will be references to episodes and seasons, but it'll change as the chapters come. Enjoy the ride!

Dividers: credit to @talesmaniac89

Chapter Three: The Psychic of Missouri

Dean Winchester tightened his grip on the Impala’s steering wheel as he navigated through Lawrence, Kansas. Beside him, Sam shifted in his seat, restless. Dean was tense—returning to their childhood home dredged up memories he didn’t want to face. Yet, Sam had been persuasive in convincing him to come back due to some uneasy dreams.

Christ. Psychic dreams. His baby brother… was a fucking psychic. What the damn hell. God.

Still, he was happy to have Sam back, if not under ideal circumstances. John went on a hunt and went missing. Though it was more or less clear that John was choosing to avoid his sons, Dean was convinced something was wrong.

Sam had been reluctant to help out at first. That all changed when the same creature that killed their mother also killed Sam’s girlfriend, Jessica. Now both brothers were determined to find out why their father was avoiding them.

What Sam didn’t know was that Dean had been calling his father incessantly, leaving voicemail galore. Worst of all, John wasn’t responding. It was killing Dean that his father essentially abandoned them… again.

“Look, man, I don’t know what you’re expecting at this house,” Dean said to Sam, trying to convince his brother to drop this nonsense. He really, really didn’t want to see that house again.

“I know, Dean,” Sam said, fighting to explain it in a way Dean would understand or even just accept. “It’s just… we have to be there. Something’s wrong.”

Dean sighed, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel. “All right, fine.”

The Impala’s engine growled as Dean pulled up outside the house he once called home. He had a few small memories that he remembered outside of watching his mother burn on the ceiling. Some of them were actually nice, like the apple pies his mother made him. Her warm hugs. The way she’d touch his cheek.

His heart ached at remembering Mary. It’d been 22 years and the grief never left him. All the beer, all the women, all the hunts… it’d never leave him.

“All right… let’s go.”

Learning that Sam had been right about something off in their old house, learning from Sari that something was haunting the house, had not been on Dean’s bingo list. More, discovering that John consulted psychics galore to track down the who and what that killed Mary was another shock.

Just what the hell was John keeping from them? Except Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to confront his father, not really. That always had been Sam’s thing… and God, Dean envied him that strength.

Missouri… was an interesting woman. She clued in on Sam’s grief, scolded him for mentally cussing her out, and even threatened him with a spoon if he put his boots on her coffee table. Christ, he’d never been so spooked before and he faced a goddamned Wendigo.

Then the other surprise hit him in the face—at least, not literally this time.

“You can come in now,” Missouri said to someone just over her shoulder.

Sam and Dean looked up, confused. Then Dean’s eyes widened. He was about to say something when Missouri scolded him again.

“What did I say about swearing?”

Dean stopped, swallowed hard, and sat up straight. “Y/N… what are you doing here?”

Exasperated, Missouri rolled her eyes at Dean. “Lord help me, I don’t know where you get your manners. She’s here because she needed my help, same as you.”

Sam glanced back and forth between Y/N and Dean, confused. “I’m sorry, could someone fill me in?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Dean, turned to Sam and offered her hand. “I’m Y/N. I met Dean a couple of years back. He helped save me from a vampire. Then a few months ago we bumped into each other again.”

Sam shook her hand. “So you’re another a hunter?”

“Yes—”

“No,” Dean said firmly. “She’s just playing at one.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Dean. “That’s not what you said at the asylum.”

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind. You’re not a hunter. You should go back, go home, pretend none of this stuff happened,” Dean said, irritated.

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, right. Like we could forget everything that happened to us?”

Y/N nodded at Sam. That made Dean even more grumpy. “That’s not the point, Sam. Y/N’s only been in this shit for a couple of years. We’ve been in it our whole lives! She remembers what it’s like to be normal!”

The penny dropped for Y/N. Up until that moment, she hadn’t been sure what Sam was in this equation. Now she knew: he was Dean’s brother.

“So you lied to me,” Y/N said angrily. “You said you understood why I couldn’t go back.”

Dean scowled. Before he could say anything more, Missouri spoke up. “That’s enough out of you, all of you. We have business to attend to.”

Sam nodded. “Our old house. There’s something there. Something inside.”

Dean huffed. He was pissed. He was pissed and he was scared and God, he hated it. Sam was becoming increasingly weird. His father was avoiding them. And seeing that damned house….

Y/N glanced at him and something softened in her gaze. He wondered what she knew. He certainly didn’t tell her anything, but what if Missouri did? God…

Sam was relaying to Missouri what he sensed and dreamed. The older woman nodded and declared, “Let’s go see that house.”

“What about Y/N?” Dean asked, testy. He was so not having this.

“She can come with and don’t you sass me boy,” Missouri said, cutting off his protest. “This is a good learning experience for her. Plus, I think it’d help her solve her problem.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He was in Hell. Sam nudged him and pulled him close so they could talk quietly.

“Hey… what’s going on? What’s the big deal about Y/N?” Sam studied his older brother, the way he was clenching his jaw, evasive with his eyes.

Dean’s nostrils flared as he fought to keep his temper. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea she’s coming with. She’s practically a kid, Sam.”

Sam glanced over at Y/N, saw the way she carried herself. She was straight-backed and lean, with the measured movements of someone who learned to husband her energy.

“Is it true?” the younger Winchester asked.

Irritated, Dean scowled up at Sam. “Is what true?”

“That you accepted her being a hunter.”

More scowling. “Shut up, Sam. Let’s go.”

Seeing the Winchester house again so soon after their first visit must’ve been weird for Jenny, the new owner of the house. Missouri did everything she could to reassure the young mother, but Dean could tell Jenny was freaked.

Y/N on the other… While Missouri did her psychic crap, the young female hunter stayed quiet, looked around, even chatted up with Jenny.

So why the hell was Dean so mad? Well, that was unfortunately easy for him to understand. It was the house. It was seeing memories, ghosts of Christmas past.

He remembered his mother being upset with John on the phone and came over to reassure her that it would be okay. He’d hugged her, tried to take his mother’s heartache.

He’d been a goddamned child. He shouldn’t have had to do that, but he felt so responsible for them all.

Seeing Y/N in the midst of it was like a knife in the gut. He didn’t want her embroiled in any of this shit. Instead, she was, and he wanted to tear his hair out over it.

“You gonna tell me why you went to Missouri?” Dean asked, his voice low and rumbly. Y/N looked up and gave him a flat look. God, it should be a crime to look that hot while being coldly furious with him.

“I needed a psychic,” she said at last. “Missouri’s come up often when I looked into them. And she definitely nailed the issues I had before I even said them out loud.”

His smile was fleeting. Given how Missouri nailed Sam with the statement about his loss and got to Dean without him ever saying a word, he was inclined to believe Missouri was the one to talk to regarding the house’s history.

Missouri came back downstairs briskly. “There’s definitely some bad energy here. We got work to do.”

“What? Her too?” Dean asked in open exasperation regarding Y/N’s involvement.

He saw Y/N’s spine stuffed and was pleased at seeing her temper. Good. Maybe they could fight it out and it’ll turn into a make out session.

Missouri bopped him upside the head. “Act like a gentleman,” she said sharply. “I know your daddy didn’t teach you to be this rude.”

Dean cringed, rubbed his head and stared at Missouri. “I wasn’t doing anything!”

“But you were thinking it,” Missouri retorted. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think of that girl that way.”

He scowled at Missouri. Sam actually smirked as he came back to them. He liked seeing Missouri put Dean in his place, just a little bit. Dean scowled.

God. After this, he was going to want to drown a bit in beer and breasts. Maybe Y/N’s breasts. Then Missouri glared at him and he grabbed his libido and shoved it back into a box. He seemed to have to do that a lot when Y/N was around.

Y/N’s gaze shifted between Dean and Missouri and smirked. “Do I want to know?”

“I’d say something but she might smack me again,” Dean grumbled. He wanted to flirt. Something to distract himself. However, Missouri was putting a kibosh on all his favorite activities and distractions.

Her smile widened and her eyes sparkled. Y/N really had gorgeous eyes. He’d forgotten. “You’re scared of her. More scared than you were with the vampire or the ghost.”

“I’m not scared,” he protested.

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not!”

Y/N was laughing as she walked away. Damn, she had a nice ass.

It didn’t take much to convince Jenny to get her to take the kids out for a movie and give them time to cleanse the house of the stubborn poltergeist.

Seeing Y/N walk around his childhood home gave Dean a funny feeling, like his chest was being compressed. He didn’t like it. He honestly did not do well dealing with feelings. Like John, he just sat on it until he blew up.

He couldn’t do that this time. He couldn’t blow up, he couldn’t sit on it. It festered and gnawed at him. God, he couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.

Y/N kept looking at him and he twitched under her inscrutable gaze.

“What?!” he asked, snapping irritably.

Y/N shook her head and that made it worse.

“Then quit looking at me like that,” he said, grumpy as Missouri mixed whatever the hell it was they needed to cast the poltergeist out.

“Dean,” Sam said, trying to deflect and calm his brother.

“It’s all right, Sam,” Y/N said gently. She looked back at Dean. “It’s about your mom, isn’t it?”

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. “How the hell did you know that? Did Sam tell you?” God, if his baby brother blabbed, Dean was gonna punch him one.

Missouri rolled her eyes at the toxic display of machismo and kept on working. Her mix was almost ready.

“God, no,” Y/N said with exasperation in every breath. “I read up on it. I…” She glanced over at Missouri, then back at the brothers. “I’ve been doing a lot of research.”

“Great. Another book nerd.” She really was like a female Sam.

Y/N was undeterred. “Things about poltergeists and ghosts and how they connect to what’s left behind. Which meant reading about traumatic deaths, murders… unusual deaths.”

Comprehension dawned in Sam’s eyes. “And you found out about our mom.”

“Yes. I knew this was your home,” Y/N said gently.

Dean’s jaw clenched tightly.

“I went to Missouri for more information about spirits in particular. I guess I wanted to understand the afterlife or at least life after death,” Y/N said carefully.

Missouri looked up at Y/N and there was a look that read she knew more about Y/N’s motives than she was admitting. Dean saw it, knew it’d take a stallion or something to drag it out of the psychic.

“The Winchester fire and… what happened to your mother… came up in my reading,” Y/N said finally.

“So what do you think?” Sam asked curiously, like an eager puppy.

Y/N considered it. “It’s not your mom,” she said at last. “I think there’s another reason why there’s a poltergeist here. Maybe it was drawn to the violent death, drove out all the previous owners and tenants.”

Missouri quirked a brow. “Are you sure you’re not psychic too?”

“No offense, Missouri,” Y/N said with a weak smile. “I really hope not.”

“Same. You don’t wanna know what’s in that boy’s mind,” Missouri said with a nod to Dean.

Dean bristled, but kept quiet. Sam nudged him as if to convince him to talk, and Dean shoved him back hard. Sam laughed.

Y/N gave Dean a thoughtful look and somehow he felt naked in that moment. Not a good naked; the scary kind where he was 4 years old again and watching his mother die.

He cleared his throat and nodded. “Let’s go get to work,” he said roughly.

They thought it was over. Sam knew better. Despite Dean’s misgivings, the brothers—and Y/N—were camped out in the Impala. The initial cleansing worked, Dean insisted. Sam believed otherwise.

Y/N offered to come with because she was curious about them. Dean was super-irritated. Bad enough he had to help wrangle his brother free from a cord choking him, smash holes in the wall and dump Missouri’s poltergeist dust into the wall. Oh no, they had to come back and keep a watch out because Sam had a ‘feeling’.

So much beer after this.

Then they saw it: Jenny pounding on the upstairs window. The trio spilled out of the Impala running for the house. Dean had to kick in the door, barked an order for Sam and Y/N to grab Sari and Richie while he grabbed Jenny.

Dean got Jenny out quickly, only to realize Sam still hadn’t come back down. He was about to run up when Y/N came out with both kids.

“Where’s Sam?” he demanded from Y/N.

“He handed me Richie and told me to run,” Y/N said, breathless. “Dean, something has him!”

Dean wasted no more time. His father’s voice echoed in his head, ordering him to take Sam and run. He’d been tasked to keep his brother safe and by God, he would.

Y/N was right behind him. For once he was grateful to not face this alone.

Before they could regroup, a woman’s voice echoed through the room. “Leave them alone!”

The figure of Mary Winchester appeared, her presence radiant and protective. She stood between the trio and the poltergeist, her gaze fierce.

“Mom?” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Mary didn’t look at him, her focus solely on the spirit. “You don’t belong here,” she said firmly. The poltergeist shrieked, its form twisting and writhing as Mary’s light engulfed it. With one final cry, it vanished.

The room fell silent. Mary turned to her sons, her expression softening. “Dean. Sam.”

Dean stepped forward, his voice breaking. “Mom?”

“You’ve grown so much,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you both.”

Sam’s voice trembled. “Why are you here?”

Mary’s form began to fade. “To protect you. To protect them.” She glanced at them, her eyes full of love.

And with that, she was gone.

The silence in the room was deafening. Dean’s hands clenched into fists, his emotions warring within him. Sam placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Y/N broke the silence. “We should check on Jenny and the kids.”

Dean nodded, his jaw tight. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Missouri was waiting for them at her home that night. Her knowing eyes met Dean’s, and she nodded. “She did what she needed to do.”

Dean’s voice was rough. “She shouldn’t have had to.”

Missouri placed a hand on his arm. “Sometimes, love is stronger than anything else. Even death.”

Dean was mulling that as he walked Y/N to her car. Her vehicle was a Honda Elsment, compact but designed to use space well. “So… how much you wanna punch me?”

Y/N actually snorted. Absurdly, he found that appealing. “Earlier, I really wanted to.” Her gaze softened, just a bit. “Not so much after that.”

“I still don’t like you being a hunter. I’ll be honest. Don’t do it, Y/N.” Dean looked pained, “Go back to your life.”

”I can’t, Dean,” she said quietly. Damn it. She had that soft voice that just cut through him. “I can’t live in ignorance or pretend this isn’t happening.”

He shook his head. “You’re stubborn.”

“Back atcha, Winchester.”

He quirked a half smile. “First time we met, you kissed me. Second time, I let you walk away.”

Her brows swooped up and she smiled. “And the third time?”

He barely let her finish before he framed her face with his hands and captured her lips in a kiss. In the midst of it as he explored her mouth, tasted her, he felt her hands slide up his chest.

When he eventually broke the kiss, when he finally let her go, he smirked at her. “Can’t wait to see what happens when I see you again, Y/N.”

She let out a breath, her cheeks flushed. “What makes you so sure we’ll see each other again?”

He grinned. “Call it a hunch, sweetheart.”

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

@nancymcl

(If I added you to a tag list you did not want to be a part of, feel free to send me a message and I’ll remove you. Or comment here. Same with being added! As always, reblogs, likes, and feedback are always welcomed!)

[agendabymooner]

time to rock and roll || fa14 fic (1)

THE BREAKUP AND MAKEUP DUOLOGY — PART ONE

“when will you learn? i’m the queen and i’ll put you in your place.”

Summary: It was 2007, and Fernando Alonso had to learn the hard way that his ego and pride were getting in the way of the love that he built up with the recently-retired professional wrestler Trish Staedtlander. OR the 2007 Canadian GP left Trish no choice but to put on a brave face and show nothing but indifference. It’s safe to say that Fernando’s pride was immediately humbled by her words and impassive expressions as he begged her to come back.

Content warning: 2007 McLaren driver!Fernando, mentions the spygate scandal, exes-to-lovers trope(ish), use of explicit language, poorly Apple-translated Spanish dialogues, platonic!Lewis Hamilton x OFC, brief Jenson Button x OFC content, mentions brief alcohol consumption, jealous!Fernando, 6300+ words of nonsense.

Note: I cannot believe I have returned to my Nando fucker phase. Enjoy xx

masterlist

“¡Si así es como funciona, entonces me voy! Feliz jodido aniversario para ti.” If this is how it works, then I’m leaving! Happy fucking anniversary to you. 

“Vuelve, Trisha,” Come back, Trisha. Fernando sighed exasperatedly. 

“No, Fernando,” Beatrice Staedtlander was a force to be reckoned with. With enough time and money, she could do whatever with her life— yet she had chosen him. She expressed her feelings towards travelling with him, telling him that out of those 52 weekends of a year, she only had him for less than a half. 

He wasn’t keen on the idea of taking her to every race. The worst part about this was that he decided to turn her down at their second anniversary— three weeks or so after she initially proposed the idea of being around him more often through a call. 

Was it because of the grid girls? She asked herself. Because she was certain that she could take it. She fought against the most attractive women in the wrestling industry before, hell she was declared the poster girl for all of them. She definitely had no problem— knowing that she was the one that the Fernando Alonso would come home to. 

She tried to explain to him that she was fine with any kind of issues that may come as they travel. She could adjust for him. But that wasn’t why he kept rejecting her. 

He could have simply said that he didn't want to be angry at her if he had lost. It was much better to cool off on the flight back to Canada instead of having her witness him in the worst way possible. He could have said all of that, but all he said was that he didn’t want any distraction. 

Was that what he really thought of her? All those times she had been with him and he’d be reading something while she spoke… is she just a distraction? Seventeen weekends to compete and another twenty to prepare for the season and all she was to him was something to fill up his schedule?

She really shouldn’t have flown to England for this. She could have just left him working at the McLaren headquarters for his break until the next race.

“I’m going home,” she told him firmly, her voice shaky as she stood there. Her hand gripped the handle of her suitcase as she spewed out, “17 weekends are what I always miss, Fernando, and twenty of those you’re always working or out— so if I’m just a distraction then I’ll make sure to make the rest of your 15 weeks as peaceful as they can be. I don’t want to see you so please don’t come to my house.”

She slammed the door on him and left as soon as she hailed a cab— it took her three minutes to do all of that. Yet it took Fernando five minutes to catch up with her but she was nowhere close to him. She wasn’t in the lobby nor outside waiting for a taxi. 

She already left.

“I shouldn’t have retired early.” “You had a bad injury last year, you had to retire early.” 

“How do I unlearn Spanish?” “Don’t speak it.” 

“Seriously, I really would just like to stay at home and not be here,” Trish whined, playing with the ice on her empty glass. “I’m not fully miserable, guys. Why am I having some sort of intervention?” 

“Psh,” Amy scoffed. “I just watched you eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s for an hour straight while you’re watching Dirty Dancing. It’s been exactly what— seven weeks since you broke up with him. You need the intervention, trust me.”

“I think it’s very brave of you to break up with him,” Jay told her with a slight shrug. Of course he would say that— they’ve dated for three months and Jay constantly flirted with her even after she began seeing Fernando. “Look, maybe if you try to attend the Grand Prix tomorrow you’ll have some sort of closure. You’ll see his face and realize that you deserve better than someone who only cares for you if it’s convenient.” 

“I’m not going to fucking go— thank you,” Trish nodded at the server who walked away after giving her the second glass of rum and coke. Sipping on it, she found herself being stared at by her best friends. “I don’t even know why I decided to go to Montreal of all places! I could have gone to Banff for a vacation instead.”

“Because there’s a part of you that wants to support him,” Amy said. “He sent those passes to you in hopes that maybe you’ll watch him race.” 

“Tried telling him that before,” Trish huffed out petulantly, “look where that got me.” 

“He probably didn’t mean it,” Jay tried to reason out, leaving the blonde to glare at him. She had heard that pathetic excuse before, and she wasn’t about to hear that when defending what she thought was the love of her life. Jay caught the look in her face and grimaced, “Okay, poor excuse, sorry— but maybe there are some things that he hadn’t said?” 

“Did he ring you or something?” Beatrice raised a brow. 

Jay shook his head slightly, “No, but you’ve seen the man. Does he look like the type to ditch you because he’s looking for something new or something?” 

“Yes,” Amy and Trish answered, both looking at the only man at the table. 

Amy looked at Trish, “But Trish, come on, how bad could it be? We only have two days to watch— the chances of seeing him may be slim. Plus, we can pull some strings from Stephanie and maybe get some extra privileges that come with the pass?” 

“I do like the sound of that,” Jay nodded. “Talk to the McMahons. Probably find a way to get out of the McLaren area?”

“Yeah, I’ll call Steph or something. If not, I'm sure Shane would be generous enough to get us some other paddock passes,” Amy stood up and reached for her phone, flipping it open to contact their former employer’s daughter. She walked away from their booth. 

Trish sighed and realized that her drink was empty.

“She’s not calling Shane right? Like my ex, son of my boss Shane just so I can see my other ex race?” Trish asked Jay with a ridiculing face, leaving the other Canadian to shrug his shoulders.

She wished she hadn’t gone to Montreal because she could feel his presence regardless of which part of the city he was in. Those weeks of being alone were hellish, if you were to ask them. 

Everyone had taken notice of the model-turned-wrestler-turned-legend when she, alongside her former coworkers, arriving at the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve. 

It was surprising, to say the least; she assumed that with what she was wearing - a low rise jeans with her custom buckled belt and some tight white tees - she wouldn’t have stuck out. She wasn’t sure if it was the buckle that caught everyone’s attention - or maybe it was the cowboy hat that she wore in the colour of McLaren. But everyone saw her and had taken photos left and right. 

Jay and Amy had also signed some things — seeing as the three of them were to become legends of WWE. They’ve gone around the grid and talked to people. Team principals were rather glad to see the three of them, telling the trio that they made a good impression as professional wrestlers during the Attitude Era. 

The three tried to cut the conversations short, not wanting to withhold the staff’s attention to their own racing teams.

Trish dreaded going to the McLaren area, not wanting to see her lover, Fernando, and feeling like she was imposing once more. Like he said, she was just a distraction… so she saw no reason why she should see his team before the qualifying. Her feet were backing off and she was ready to walk away. 

She would have gone had it been for a young Lewis Hamilton who caught a glimpse of the Canadian wrestler. He was quick to reach out to her.

“H- Miss Stratus!” He greeted her, nervousness written all over his face but he smiled nonetheless. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. My name is Lewis Hamilton.” 

Trish quickly recognized the name, “Ah yes! It is very nice to meet you, Hamilton. You’re extremely impressive you know? I’ve watched the races from the television and you’ve got a lot of potential. It’s too bad I’ve never seen you race in person ‘til now.” 

“That’s a lot of compliment coming from you,” Lewis chuckled meekly, “and you’re the one to talk. You’ve been an amazing wrestler and character during your active years. Some may think that your championships were nothing but a joke but I think they were rather fitting for your character.” 

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, “when someone tries to bring you down, it’s just easier for you to either ignore them or eat up the attention.”

“And you chose the latter,” Lewis laughed. 

“And I chose the latter,” Trish nodded. “As much as I’d like to keep talking I think I’m gonna have to cut the conversation short. I'd hate to impose and distract you—“

“Nonsense!” Lewis insisted, “Alonso’s been looking for you since we arrived a few days ago. I think he was worried you weren’t coming this weekend—“

“What?” Trish interfered, disbelief written in her face as she tried to comprehend what was just said. 

Fernando’s looking for her and he’s scared she wouldn’t come.

Her lover had always been confident, some people thought of his personality as something more boastful and egotistical. She always loved that he could get self-assured at times, and that he would often infect her with the same energy until she was at the same level of confidence as him. 

But even his fears could get irrational. 

Sure, the breakup became the talk of the month or whatever (so far there had been ten magazines that had written about it), but not once did he allow any personal problem to get in the way of his racing. Whatever happened in the tracks, he’d make sure to address it, but he would never jeopardize his race just because he had an argument with his parents prior to the competition. 

So his fear of her not being there? Trish was sure that he wouldn’t allow that to get in the way of his world drivers’ championship. 

“Yeah, really,” Lewis nodded in confirmation. “I know he had flown out his mother from Spain too, seeing as this was your country and all. Mrs. Alonso keeps telling me that Fernando’s been keeping you from her so she just decided to come here for you.” 

Okay, maybe there was a reason why he was scared. But they’ve broken up, have they not? It’s been nearly two months, why hadn’t he told Mrs. Alonso about their breakup? Perhaps she found out already, she probably just wanted to see Trish and possibly bitch-slap the Canadian. Maybe.

“Right,” Trish nodded. “I’ll see him around eventually. Maybe you can let her know I’m here? I’ve got to get back to my friends before the qualifying.”

“No problem, Miss Stratus!” Lewis grinned.

“Beatrice,” Trish told him, “call me Beatrice or Trish. Miss Stratus makes it sound like I’m old or something.”

“Alright… Trish,” Lewis chuckled. “I’ll pass the message to her for you. Hope you find your friends before it gets even worse in the paddock.”

“Thank you so much, Lewis,” Trish smiled softly at the man. “Good luck on your qualifying. Try to aim for the pole.” 

“I’ll work hard enough!” Lewis bid his farewell to Trish before returning to the garage. Turning away, Trish kept a small smile on her face before she set off to find Amy and Jay. There was a lot for her to say about what she just found out.

“HOLY SHIT! HAMILTON’S AT POLE!” Jay screamed, his mouth gaping as he turned to look at his friends with widened eyes. The shared flabbergasted look on Amy and Trish’s faces matched with the man as they yelled excitedly, trying not to jump up and down in joy.

“He’s fucking pole tomorrow!” Trish yelled, grin widening even more as she shook Jay’s shoulders.

“…I think you should be more excited for something else, Beatrice,” Amy poked Trish on the side, making the Canadian turn around to face her best friend. Amy pointed at the screen, all of them watching as a checkered flag was displayed next to Fernando’s name and his final qualification time showing up next to the second one. “Nando’s at P2 tomorrow.” 

Trish’s smile faltered for a moment, taking in the information as her chest swelled with pride. Her mouth returned to its curled position. She turned around to celebrate Hamilton’s pole position for a literal second and her man came running to retrieve the second position. Talk about a win. 

Before they could even leave the McLaren’s hospitality they were approached by a media relations member to let them know about being interviewed. It wasn’t as if they could get out of that duty— Martin Brundle would most likely be the one to approach them if they hadn’t been notified and if there was anything Trish had learned it was that you don’t simply walk away from him. 

“Trish, this is the first time I have seen you since last year’s Canadian Grand Prix,” Martin started once he introduced the three. “With what’s happening between you and a certain McLaren driver, or what even happened, how do you feel being in the circuit?” 

“Well, I am quite excited for tomorrow. Seeing McLaren with a pole and a second position made me feel so giddy,” Trish grinned. She wasn’t lying, but she didn’t mention him nor the comment that Martin made about their famous break up.

“Rumour has it that you weren’t planning to go this year,” Martin asked her. 

Amy decided to answer for Trish, “She wasn’t supposed to. She didn’t want to, I mean. And I know that this had been her tradition since she got her what— fifth— sixth Women’s Championship title?” 

“Fifth,” Jay piped up, “if it’s 2005, yeah it’s fifth.” 

“Yeah, so this was something that she had been doing since 2005 and if there’s anything that I knew since working with her was that she doesn’t like to skip out of certain traditions. We had to drag her ass out of Toronto a few days ago because well, we didn’t want to waste the passes given to us by a generous driver,” Amy continued, smirking towards Trish’s direction. The Canadian shot her best friend a look. 

“Quite the generous driver, indeed,” Martin said, “have you three congratulated him by chance?” At least the man wasn’t singling her out now. 

“We have not,” Jay answered, “we were planning to call it an early evening after we speak to their team principal however—“

Meanwhile, next to the trio stood Lewis Hamilton, who was being interviewed as well. He spoke about landing on the pole and how confident he was tomorrow. 

Trish thought she misheard what he said as he continued, “I’ve seen Trish Stratus earlier. Trish told me today that I should get the pole position, and obviously being one of my favourite wrestlers and all— I can’t disappoint her.”

“She’s just right next to you actually,” Lewis’ interviewer pointed, making the cameraman pan his camera towards the wrestler who then turned only to see Lewis and the camera in her direction. 

“Oh Lewis!” Trish exclaimed, interrupting the conversation between Amy, Jay and Martin as she apologized meekly, “Sorry, Martin. I’ll just move aside for a moment to speak to Lewis.” 

Then she walked three steps towards the driver, “Can I give you a hug? Congratulations!” 

Lewis took that friendly offer as he grinned, finally pulling away as he said, “Thank you, thank you! We were actually just talking about you and how you told me to get the pole position.”

“And clearly Lewis fulfilled it,” Trish giggled, clapping him on the back. “It’s going to be really exciting to see you tomorrow. And I’ve heard this is your first pole?” 

“It is, it is,” Lewis nodded eagerly. 

“God, I am so happy for you, Lew!” Trish exclaimed.

“And what do you think about McLaren getting another higher position on the grid tomorrow with Fernando Alonso getting a P2?” The interviewer asked, making the wrestler pause for a moment. Her face remained impassive, not wanting to give the papers more things to write about. 

Her quick thinking, thankfully, led her to respond with, “I have always been supportive of each driver and just like the previous races, I never failed to believe that Fernando Alonso would be able to make it in the top ten. Each race that I have been to— I rarely go now— always has the same result with him being successful one way or another.” It was so nice having a media relations manager in WWE. At least she knew how to respond without losing her shit at people who kept on bringing up her ex.

“Do you think that his success in the races you make your appearance in would have to do something with you?” The woman across from the British and Canadian continued to ask, a smile on her face was rather genuine— if you would ask Trish. It was as if they were asking about a romance that had somehow brightened up the racing and wrestling community’s images. 

Everyone did tell her and Fernando that while their relationship was made public they somehow managed to show genuineness instead of the fake smiles and pretentious display of affection. 

So it never hurt for Trish to reminisce no matter what their situation was now. Trish answered the interviewer and said, “You know… that’s something that isn’t up to me. I know for a fact that Fernando was always made for this sport so me being there wouldn’t change a thing. I could be gone now and he’d still land in P2, you know?”

Amy: Gone down to the bar downstairs. Raikkonen and Button r here. R u coming? 

Beatrice: No, too tired. Enjoy though xx

Her room telephone started ringing by the time she shut her phone close, groaning as she glared at the direction of the phone. There was too much to unpack after arriving from the venue that she scolded herself for staying a little longer at the McLaren garage. 

Somehow she found a reason why Fernando refused to take her to the races. Being told that she was some distraction did hurt— but being left in the dark about what could potentially jeopardize his career was another. IFinding out about the information from Ferrari being passed to McLaren left a distasteful feeling on her mouth. She never wanted to take back her words of praise from earlier until now. 

All the more reason to avoid Fernando right? 

Right. But he was determined to make things right for them. 

When Trish answered the phone she initially thought that it was either Jay or Amy, exclaiming, “What? I texted you alr—“

“Trish, hija!” The voice on the other side of the call silenced the Canadian, feeling too stunned and unable to speak for a moment as the sweet voice continued, “¿Te parece bien que hable español?” Is it okay if I speak Spanish?

Trish swallowed the lump on her throat and stammered, “Sí, por supuesto, señora Alonso.” Yes, of course, Mrs. Alonso.

“Hace tiempo que no sé nada de ti, mi amor. ¿Cómo has estado?” I have not heard from you for a while now, my love. How have you been? God, those words were angelic. For it to come from her lover’s mother was a blessing that was hard to believe. 

Fernando’s mother had always expressed her fondness for the woman. Whenever Trish flew to Spain for holidays— all of which were spent with Fernando— his mother would always make sure that the Canadian had everything she needed. She even taught the younger woman a lot about Spanish culture. Needless to say, Mrs. Alonso enjoyed Trish’s company and vice versa. 

“Ah, ha sido duro, pero estoy trabajando duro para pasar el día.” It’s been rough but I’m working hard to push through the day. Trish felt herself smiling before it fell off and asked, “If you do not mind me asking… How did you find my hotel room number?” 

“Espero que no te importe, pero Nando ha sido muy reservado sobre ti últimamente. No me gusta ser entrometido, pero si significa para mí hablar contigo, entonces encontraré algo de sus cosas que me lleve a ti.” I hope you don’t mind, but Nando has been very secretive about you lately. I don’t like being nosy but if it means for me to speak to you then I’ll find something from his things that’ll get me to you. 

Trish nearly laughed at this. Mrs. Alonso, whenever the couple were miles apart, would take it upon herself to talk in the background and join in at the conversation held between Fernando and Trish. She was rather dedicated to keeping her relationship alive with Trish and the younger woman appreciated that. 

“¿Te parece bien si cenamos esta noche? Solo tú y yo, Fernando no estará allí.” Is it okay if we have dinner tonight? It’s just me and you— Fernando will not be there. Mrs. Alonso’s voice sounded more like a plea than it was a suggestion. “Tell me everything that happened.” 

And who was Trish to say no? After all, she was the Alonso that Trish liked the most— not that she would ever tell Fernando that. There’s got to be at least something to lie to him about. Especially when he’d done it multiple times. 

Their dinner wasn’t tense at all. It was as if they’d forgotten about Fernando for a moment as they chatted away, exchanging their thoughts on the current events and laughing about whatever.

Beatrice wasn’t too keen on telling Mrs. Alonso about the silliest things, but the older woman was a woman of detail. She needed to know how their relationship came to an end so easily. And instead of fighting back on it, Beatrice’s shoulders dropped as she started to tell Mrs. Alonso about what had happened weeks ago. 

“We’ve been together for years,” Beatrice said, dropping her hands to avoid playing with her food. She offered a rueful smile to the older woman. “Me hizo sentir como si fuera una carga.” He made me feel like a burden. 

Mrs. Alonso sighed quietly, unable to speak on behalf of her son. Fernando should be the one who would own up to his bullshit, and the pride that he carried within him hindered almost every good thing ahead of him. One of them being Trish. Mrs. Alonso figured that her son bringing his girlfriend along on a trip to Spain for holidays was a sign of love he could offer. 

But hearing about how he exploded and called her an inconvenience? Fernando couldn’t be more wrong and stupid. Even Mrs. Alonso called him that. 

He wouldn’t take Beatrice back home in Spain if she was just another woman to string along. He wouldn’t have lasted for two years in their relationship if he thought that Beatrice wasn’t the woman he wanted to marry. He hadn’t sat her down for three hours while drinking a bottle of wine, teaching her how to speak in Spanish at an intermediate level, just to toss her aside once he got her body trembling. 

A non-committal person would do things like that. But Fernando was in love with Beatrice. He’d see the grid girls wink and even put their hands on him, but not once did he ever try to get a taste of infidelity. He wasn’t like that. 

It baffled Mrs. Alonso to no end, but at least she expressed her empathy for the younger woman while telling Trish that she’d have a word with her son. 

Fernando was an idiot, and Mrs. Alonso was going to remind him how idiotic he could get. 

It wasn’t Fernando’s weekend this weekend, but it was Lewis Hamilton’s. 

And Trish couldn’t be happier for the young British driver. She spoke to him before his race about keeping his pole position all throughout the race. Then she told him that he’s becoming her favourite driver in the grid (which was true). Lewis Hamilton merely grinned and told her that, “I’ll make you even prouder then, hm?” 

And proud, she was. The moment he got an opportunity to be away from the media people, Trish didn’t take her time to drag Amy and Jay to find the man of the night. The Canadian merely rattled off at how exciting the race was for them as they were rooting for Hamilton. Lewis exchanged words and said something like, “I was nervous! I honestly thought I was going to fuck up at some point but no. I didn’t want you to see me race for the first time and watch me be shit at it.” 

Their conversation was cut short when he was pulled away by his press officer. Lewis had to beg his press officer to pause for a moment before giving the three a heads up about a party to celebrate his win. Trish hadn’t even realized what she agreed on, waving him off and nodding as if to tell him that he needed to go. He took this as a yes to the invitation. So when she received a text from him (when he took her number) about the details of the party, she only turned to her friends and said, “I hope you’ve got some nice clothes.”

Being invited to a party wasn’t on their agenda. She thought of staying for two or more days in Montreal to visit the basilica and cathedral church— and maybe she’d check out a farmers market and see if they’ve got a stall of local distilleries. So to be a guest of this race weekend’s winner? She was more popular than some of them yet she was worried about how atrocious she looked. 

She really lucked out when she managed to pull a going out top from her suitcase. A halter neck handkerchief top was what her eyes had settled on. Blue sequins were shining as she continued to hold it under her room’s light. She didn’t waste any time and prepared to go out tonight with her friends— and her new one, Lewis. 

As soon as she arrived with the two, her eyes scanned the place. The dance floor wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t crowded either. She saw Lewis by the dance floor and had chatted with him for a moment before she waved at him, telling him to enjoy his night. She immediately went straight to the bar and ordered a martini. 

Her eyes couldn’t help but wander, watching as bodies sucked in the air of freedom and happiness on the dance floor. She could see nothing but enjoyment, one that she craved the most after all those weeks of crying over some man. 

Her gaze shifted to a rather expensive space inside the club. She could see a VIP booth full of familiar faces— those that she saw while she walked around the paddock. If everyone were here, as Lewis had told her, then that meant…

“My, my,” she turned away from the VIP table back to the direction of the entrance, finding herself face to face with Jenson Button. He leaned against the bar counter and offered her a smirk. “Aren’t you a beautiful sight to see.” 

Thanking the bartender, she sipped on her martini with a scoff and asked, “Did that ever work on the girls you wanted to bed?” 

He chuckled heartily, shaking his head as he sipped on his drink — rum and coke. “No,” he teased, “it didn’t work on you, clearly.” 

Her face flushed before she turned away for a moment, hearing him laugh at the embarrassment that she felt. 

Regaining her composure, Beatrice looked back at Jenson. 

She knew that he was joking, but she had heard a lot about the grid singles; they were all trying to gain her attention when she attended the Grand Prix two years ago. Even now, there were still some drivers that were attracted to her. Jenson Button had an underlying problem and it was that his joke was half serious. 

She cleared her throat and pointed at the glass in his hand, “Fifth drink?” 

Jenson shook his head, “First.” 

“I don’t blame you,” raising her martini, she responded with a nod before tipping the drink over her open mouth. The burning sensation down her throat left her hissing quietly, making her companion chuckle in amusement. “It’s nice to know you get off at the sight of a woman in pain.”

His chuckle turned into a snicker as his shoulders shook. He then continued to joke along with her, “Not your thing? We can always compromise.” 

She bursted out of laughter, the burning feeling long gone as she exchanged words with him at the bar. 

What she hadn’t seen, though, was a quiet Fernando. He was sat at the end of the booth, the dimly lit area hiding the deadly stare that he held while Beatrice and Jenson laughed at whatever the fuck they were talking about. 

And as if God was laughing at him, the speakers were playing a remix of Beyoncé’s Irreplaceable. The song mocked Fernando’s vulnerable state.

“I can have another you in a minute, matter of fact he’ll be here in a minute.” 

He didn’t know how long he kept his gaze on the same place, or how many drinks Trish had while he zoned out. He shook himself out of his thoughts when Nico Rosberg called him, asking if he’d heard what the German just said. He only nodded but somehow he ended up being roped into a short conversation. He lost sight of her.

“Baby I don’t give a damn, I know your man’s nowhere in sight.”

Kimi Raikkonen, who had downed four shots of tequila throughout the night, decided that it was the right time to speak. He wolf-whistled as he peered over Fernando’s shoulders, his eyes squinting as he watched the dance floor. “Look at that. Jenson lied about being shit at dancing.” 

“And your eyes don’t tell a lie.” 

Fernando’s head snapped at the direction where Kimi pointed and his eyes narrowed at the sight. It wasn’t a pleasant sight for him. 

Because she was his woman. Not anyone else’s. Not Jenson’s. 

But with their dire situation, Fernando couldn’t call her his woman. She was single. So he painfully watched Beatrice’s face inching towards Jenson’s. 

The BAR-Honda driver’s hands were touching her hips as if he was holding a steering wheel. She smiled at him as if she liked it; Fernando knew she loved how his bigger hands gently rested on her waist whenever he’d sneak up behind her as she made their cups of coffee. Trish didn’t like how Jenson held her. Fernando just knew. 

“I know you wanna come with me tonight.”

Right. That was it. 

Fernando cleared his throat and stood, wordlessly walking away from the booth as he marched his way towards the two. His hand dragged her away from the British man, his face seething while Trish protested. She could’ve just pulled away because of how little force he had on his hold. 

Instead she just followed along as they ended up in a quieter area of the club. A rarity for such a loud venue.

“I can’t believe you,” Beatrice, rather than causing a drama, merely whispered the first four words that she offered him since she walked out with a “happy fucking anniversary.” 

“Trisha—“ he tried to reason out, but he was quietened by her glare. 

“Everything’s falling apart,” she told him calmly, “everything’s falling apart but you refuse to take accountability for being a part of it.”

He remembered the controversy surrounding McLaren and Ferrari. And how he was somewhat a part of it. 

Earlier today, he hadn’t even offered Lewis a congratulations on his first win. He bitterly walked off, frustrated at Lewis’ win and his P9 result. P-fucking-9. He’s been a two time world champion. Now he landed in P9? He was upset. It was even worse when he saw some televised interviews of Lewis and Trish being a little bit friendly as she showered the younger driver with support. Fernando was her favourite driver. Now it’s Lewis. 

Then he remembered how he got into a huge argument with her, practically lying about being a distraction to him just to save face. He hated how his pride got in the way of the things he needed, blaming others seemed to be a better option than accepting defeat. 

Beatrice continued on, “I gave you two years. I gave you half a year, Fernando. Why haven’t you backed out at the beginning if you thought of me that way?”

“I,” he paused to regain his composure, making sure that he was sober enough to speak. “I didn’t mean that.” 

“You were quite passionate when you were screaming abuse at me,” Beatrice muttered sarcastically. 

“I don’t, I really don’t— you have to believe me, mi corazon,” as of this point, he no longer had the prideful attitude. He didn’t care if he didn’t. He wasn’t about to lose her for good. “Everything’s falling apart and I wasn’t sure how to get myself out of it.”

“I could’ve done something,” Trish told him, “I could’ve been there to comfort you, to provide input— and I know jackshit about whatever’s happening. You didn’t tell me anything. How am I supposed to believe you after all of that?

“I can’t be the only one responsible here,” she continued with the pain that felt permanent. “You— ugh.” 

She angrily wiped her tears away, a slight smudge of her mascara showing her exasperation as she asked, “These papers— those people… when they ask you about me— did you ever try giving them an answer?” 

“Did you even tell them how much I fucking meant to you? Or did you just let it all show in front of the cameras because I’m not worth a word to anyone? Did you even bother to look and wonder how the fuck I was doing? After all of that fiasco last year— you weren’t even there!” 

“And that was my mistake, Trisha!” He yelled in the same tone as her. Were they ever glad that nobody could hear them with all of the bass boosting inside the club.

Her lips trembled, unable to contain her sadness. She wasn’t even upset at the way he yelled. She was just sad it turned out like this. 

He sighed, slumping down against the wall as he leaned his head back for a moment. He couldn’t talk to her if he couldn’t contain his frustration. But then again, if he continued to focus more on himself and keeping his composure— she’d walk away again because of the lack of words he had given her. 

His hand reached on her wrist, squeezing it once, “Just stay. Don’t leave, mi corazon.” 

“I’m not leaving,” she spoke quietly, slightly tugging her wrist away from his hold. Did he really think she’d leave? She only left months ago because she knew damn well that he’d much rather be alone… and that he didn’t want her there. “Only did that to make things easier for the two of us. I want to talk- and so do you, so I’m not wasting my time on leaving.”

Fernando Alonso never felt the need to explain himself any further to anyone, he could admit. He didn’t give that much shit what anyone would think, thanks to his ego. But he had never felt the need to explain himself this desperately before. He knew too well that the moment he watches Beatrice Staedtlander slip away from him would be the moment when everything ends for him. 

“Ojalá pudiera volver atrás en el tiempo para poder contarte todo. Sé que he herido a mucha gente debido a mis acciones y he hecho tanto por ti, ojalá no dejara que mi orgullo sacara lo mejor de mí. Mamá tiene razón. Soy estúpido porque te he deje ir tan fácilmente en lugar de tratar de mejorar las cosas,” I wish I can turn back the time so I can tell you everything. I know I’ve wounded a lot of people because of my doings and I’ve done so much to you, I wish I didn’t let my pride get the best of me. Mom is right. I am stupid because I’ve let you go so easily instead of trying to make things better.

His mind was set on panic mode and clearly the rambling of Spanish words showed it. His eyes, ones that were often playful or stoic, softened as he kneeled in front of her, clasping both of her hands as he said, “Please. Let me back in your heart, Trisha. Let me learn.” 

And she couldn’t even fathom the thought of refusing him. Because those two years of relationship didn’t build up to nothing. She hadn’t learned intermediate Spanish in his childhood home for nothing. She hadn’t stayed up late to receive his call for nothing. She wouldn’t have done anything as remotely outrageous as putting his driver number in her tiny bikini for a magazine cover if it hadn’t been for the love and dedication she had for him. 

“You’ve always been in my heart, Nando,” she murmured, peering down at him as she held his face against her smaller hands. Pressing down a kiss on his lips, she then said, “But god if you fucked this up, then maybe we really aren’t meant for each other.”

Fernando stood from where he kneeled, his lips capturing hers in a heated yet gentle kiss as his hand sat on her hip. He couldn’t even seem to answer, but it wasn’t as if he'd ever refuse her. She was someone he’d never turn down; not when he knew that she was it for him.

But this wasn’t the first time they’ve broken up. And this definitely won’t be the last time Fernando Alonso would find himself making the biggest mistake of his life. Thank god, Beatrice Staedtlander was there to remind him that his pride would only hinder his chances of making things right. 

[ladyorlandodream]

Finally, the day has come — a year and five months later, but who’s counting — to put into words my thoughts on the series finale of Doom Patrol. Long post!

Let’s start with this: I didn’t write anything right away because I was emotionally wrecked. This series came into my life during a very tough time, and as a longtime Brendan Fraser fan, seeing him return as the epic Cliff Steele was incredible. That monologue with the Sisterhood of Dada in Season 3? Chef’s kiss. And then there’s my overwhelming love for Rita — I was speechless.

To give you an idea: the first time I watched the finale, I was out in the field for work. I drove five hours on the highway just to get home past midnight, so I could watch the last three episodes in peace, alone, while everyone else slept. By minute five, I was already tearing up. And when it ended with “I am home,” I was sobbing so hard I had to step outside. I cried in the garden for at least two hours, one of my dogs sitting beside me, completely confused as to why I was falling apart.

I didn’t expect it to hit me that hard.

So, I waited. And with time, I decided to rewatch the whole thing — though I couldn’t bring myself to rewatch the final episode until much later.

And now, here we are. Let’s talk about those last episodes: tragic-comedic-tragic-comedic and then tragic again. Classic Doom Patrol, with a sprinkle of nonsense like the singing butts — because, fuck it, why not?

Let’s begin with the characters I liked the least, starting with Victor. Unpopular opinion, maybe, but I never really liked him. In the beginning, he was incredibly selfish — let’s not forget how harshly he criticized Rita for her wanting to be a superhero, telling her she wasn’t good enough. Sure, he tried to train her, but he wasn’t exactly helpful. A lot of his behavior struck me as childish. Toward the end, he redeemed himself a little, finally understanding his purpose as Cyborg. Still, he remains my least favorite. Personal taste, of course.

Then there’s Madame Rouge. She had so much potential (comic readers will know how powerful she truly is). I mean, she may have been the one — unknowingly, maybe even later — who gave Niles the file on Rita for Project Immortus. Remember how she hands him those documents while he’s toying with the green liquid the very same we see in the first episode? That was a huge twist. I wonder if the version of Rouge who arrived in the future without memory was actually the same one who had been attacked years before by our future Rouge. That whole scene was intense and really well done. But I can’t forgive her for something: she jumped on the Immortus train to regain immortality for everyone, but the moment she saw Isabel’s show, she flipped back into her “conquer-the-world” mode like nothing happened. Sure, she eventually got back on track, but that dark part of her is always there. Still, her ending worked for me. She’d lost everything, so destroying the Bureau with a flamethrower and that psychotic expression? Chef’s kiss.

Now the Fantastic Four.

Let’s acknowledge that this last season was poorly treated: obviously low budget, they didn’t capitalize on Brendan’s Oscar win, and marketing was nonexistent. The final season felt rushed. Still...

Larry, sweet Larry. Because of that rush, they just dropped Rama into the plot. Lovely character, sure, and I get the “love at first sight” angle, but their connection felt totally unearned. It needed more time to develop. (Though Cliff’s line about feeling “tension” between them cracked me up.) Also, what the hell happened when they exploded? And the original Negative Man could talk this whole time?! After seasons of just glowing?! Season 4 didn’t treat Larry well — and he didn’t even get proper closure with Rita. They didn’t hug, because she was a ghost. They say goodbye to each other, showing that they truly are soulmates in the friends way, but I felt something was missing. I found it so disappointing that, for his best friend of decades, the only thing he chose to burn with his body was so superficial… that? Really?

Jane: Her ending with the Kaleidoscope was beautiful. Seeing all the personas together was powerful and emotional. K is finally “healed” or at least allowed to grow. And against Immortus, thanks to this merge, we saw a return of K’s powers — which we hadn’t seen in ages! I screamed. But Dr. Harrison’s death? Completely unexplained. Season 3 ended with tension between her and Jane, hinting at a future clash of powerful personas. But with the show being cut short, that plot was axed — and H just died. No explanation. What a waste. Also... Jane and Shelley not staying together broke my heart. I adore Shelley. She waited for Jane… and maybe still is? But suddenly Jane is with Casey? After meeting during the musical episode?? Love already?! How?! Why?! When?! No logic. So rushed. And the goodbye with Cliff — not knowing it was the last time they’d talk — that hit hard. Their final drive together, neither of them able to drive due to Parkinson’s and dementia, was poetic. They understood each other. They knew they had to go home. To end with the others. Their parent-child dynamic is pure bittersweet gold.

Cliff: My treasure. My robot bear. Let’s talk about the foreshadowing — “I wanna die in peace with my daughter and my grandson.” I only caught it on rewatch, and it shattered me. And “Hey Zuul”? A nod for the Ghostbusters fans. Genius. The backstory with Niles was amazing — how Niles ended up in a wheelchair, the anger, the disbelief. The memory potion (possibly the same used later on Jane?), and Willoughby telling Cliff not to strip someone of immortality right after breaking their back — amazing. And Von Fuchs’ minions showing up? Total first-season nostalgia. Cliff being the first to say, “We have to save Rita,” just because “It’s Rita,” melted me. She taught him breathing techniques to handle anxiety — which he uses throughout the series. She helped him when he was a megarobot, just like he helped her when she became that city-devouring mega blob. I wanna go home. If Rita’s in danger, she gets saved. No questions asked. This is what Cliff says, no matter the danger or the risk of his skin. And his ending, guys, what can I say, is chilling. Immortus' gift of the gem is indescribable. Small note: Cliff "Swallowed" Isabel's nail, but unfortunately this could not stop her illness, the Parkinson’s still winning despite it all. I liked the fact that we were not shown a totally happy life… Claire having cancer, Rory repeating Cliff’s own life mistakes, but then returning to be there for his daughter — joy and sorrow, just like life, I'm getting emotional just thinking about it...and the fact that in the end he died with his daughter and grandson, simply saying "I'm home" and his eyes turning off. Pure poetry. A beautiful ending for a character full of highs and lows. It was sad, but undoubtedly wonderful.

Rita: My love since the pilot. A woman whose mood changes with the wind. Her growth through the series has been applause-worthy, and it truly shows in the final episodes. Let’s step back for a second though: her behavior toward Larry after returning from the past was awful. She kept saying she’d lost the most important person in her life, completely disregarding Larry — who had always stood by her through light and darkness. He didn’t deserve that. Thankfully, things got better, especially in part of their farewell. That dinner scene, when she finally broke down and explained why eating together was important and why the “Team Leader” title mattered to her — it wasn’t superficial, it was about family. For her, it’s always been the three of them: Larry, Cliff, and Jane.

The scene in the kitchen, her vulnerability as she talks with Rouge — so sad but so beautiful. April Bowlby perfectly portrays an aging woman: the movements, the stiffness, the pain in her joints, turning into the blob — the thing she hates most — just to feel relief. Her voice, her body language, everything spoke of fragility. Even forgiving Isabel showed her growth. And Rouge watching her, knowing her friend is aging faster than the others. The fireplace scene, remembering their best moments, felt like April herself was speaking — as if she was saying goodbye, not just Rita. The music as she dozes off at the table during breakfast was the quiet signal that something was coming. And then… her death. It hit me as hard as Cliff’s. Her decision not to be saved made sense, in her way. She was the glue holding them all together. Now it was time for everyone to live their own lives. Tragic words, but true. Beautiful. Devastating. She died holding her uniform, the colors of her family. And of course, Doom Patrol can’t go out without a bit of humor: the pyre scene, the stink, the farts — hilarious. Though I hated how meaningless the friends’ chosen items were. And the end with Malcolm? Please. That man knew Bendy, not Rita. Not the full life of Elasti-Girl, but the woman he met without memories. I get that it was meant as the best ending for her, but Bendy is only a part of who Rita was. I’ll end this part with her final words, her trademark, the ones she used to lie about being ok…those words, for the first time, she used them to truly comfort her friends.

It’s fine. It’s totally fine.

I’m sure I’ve forgotten so much, but this is already long enough. Many things remain — and will remain — unexplained. What happened to the Sisterhood, with their incredible potential wasted in Season 3? Where’s Dorothy? Danny — is he still an ambulance or back to being a street? And my biggest heartbreak of Season 4: the absence of my other bear, Flex Mentallo. He deserved one last appearance. The man who nearly ended the world by giving Rita a super-orgasm. The sweetest man in the universe.

So many things. But I’ll stop here.

Thank you Doom Patrol for what you were, and still are. I’m catching up with the comics now, so our story isn’t over. Only the show is, but never say never. But Thank You for showing that no one is perfect, and even so, you can find a family who will always accept you.

I’ll close with my heroine’s final words to the team in the livingroom:

The Doom Patrol is no longer.

[bloomingdarkgarden]

My unabridged and uninvited Bridgerton season 3 thoughts live as i binge-watched until midnight last night:

fuck this show is euphoric escapism soap opera and idk what whimsical crack they put in it but it always manages to make my heartrate go insane. My expectations were low, maybe because ive been starved for any tiny crumb of this whimsy idk but i feel atrociously fed so here we go:

colin u are acting like an instagram influencer and we all see thru u bye.

Nicola is the most stunning person on television 50 shades of aqua move over boys I'm first in line for her dance card.

I would sell my soul to satan to have a cigarette with Lady Danbury in her afterhours tea room.

ngl the resurgence of the season 1 orchestrals is BEAUTIFUL and hitting harder than the new covers.

cressida's hair needs a dedicated gallery space and im completely here for her humanization she is a ruthless sad hoe and i understand. creloise good morning.

pen and francesca bonding over being introverts>>>>

pen is the people's princess for real, bookish as hell and socially awkward until she has 3 glasses of wine and then she's real as fuck. mood.

OH MY GOD THE KISS THE NIGHT GARDEN THE SHEER STARVATION his hand on her cheek and he's looking at her like he just touched god fucking hell i had to rewind and watch three times.

Pen trying to impress Debling "I LOVE BIRDS' no she did not I spit out my wine. yes penelope yes. don't let anyone tell u you don't have game honey.

omg balloon drama lol what is this shit peak bridgerton nonsense.

benedict has the personality of a rug on someone's back patio, polite and unnecessary. the reason why his scenes are so offputting every season is because he has been depicted as Goofy from A Goofy Movie no i have not read the books but boy they are gonna have to pay me money to digest him as a love interest i swear to god.

ugh penelope is the most relatable female lead in this entire series i am rooting for her SO hard.

thank fuck lady featherington is willing to discuss penetration with her daughters they now stand a fraction of a chance of surviving the world. lady f for president.

i found francesca's placidity / passitivity about the next 50 years of her life v frustrating at first but she grew on me immensely and am looking forward to more of her screentime.

debling has kind eyes and i will be sad if he's truly jilted... bravo netflix for once again making me care about the beta characters.

this danbury man flirting with lady bridgerton hello sire you are gallant as hell, wake up lady b.

colin's entire world being ruined for penelope is actual nirvana.

THE CARRIAGE SCENE THE CARRIAGE SCENE I WILL NEVER STOP LOVING THEM I WILL NEVER STOP I LOVE THEM IM INSANE ILL NEVER STOP holy shit. colin asking if the carriage can just keep going and pen laughing because that's a gd ridiculous thing to say is peak friends to lovers i felt their friendship in that moment and im aching with it ugh they are besties with hormones GOD i will never. stop. loving. them idc idc idc.

can't wait to watch 75 more times goodnight.

[littlerosetrove]

My thoughts under the cut.

In no particular order.

I still haven't watched the clip that perhaps focuses on the killer, and Maddie getting kidnapped. I watched a part of it muted because right now, to be honest, it doesn't interest me. We've seen Maddie be kidnapped and her life being in danger before, so this is just a repeat of the same story in a different font.

I saw both the video and a gif version of the bts showing Buck and Eddie hugging goodbye as Eddie prepares to leave with a U-Haul. Look. While I'm still a Buddie shipper, I'm... kind of only a shipper of them in fanfic now?? The last 2 seasons in particular have really shown them in such a platonic manner, which I still love, that idk. They just do not read romantic in canon anymore to me, and I'm okay with that at this point.

The hug they shared was such a friend/bro hug to me. It's totally fine if people read it romantically (still), ain't nothing wrong with that.

As for Eddie, while I feel certain right now that he'll come back at some point in season 8, bro. I'm gonna be particularly pessimistic for a moment to say that if Eddie is just gone for good, and with the way season 8 in particular has been written and handled, I don't think it would surprise me if Eddie is gone for good. Oh it would be an incredibly stupid ass decision, but truly at this point I wouldn't put it past the writers and Tim Minear.

In the case that Eddie does come back, well..... I don't even know how to articulate my feelings. Eddie is one of my favorite characters, and the way he's been handled and written for three seasons now is incredibly frustrating. I still just feel tired thinking about Eddie, tbh. I don't know what the fuck they're doing with him or going to do with him. Like, they clearly think some priest telling Eddie to drink juice, and him dancing in his underwear was some big turning point and a significant healing moment. Boom, so many of his problems are solved! Fuck off with that nonsense.

I've yet to see it, but I saw people saying they've seen Buck still baking? This stirs up some feelings. This better mean something, I'm so serious. So Buck is still clearly thinking about Tommy? Maybe even as far as episode 8x12 or something? This better be for a good goddamn reason. If this is not as some lead into Buck and Tommy eventually getting back together, then my god WHAT was the entire goddamn point of it all????

[remylebeaugambit]

Did you not like X-men 97 specifically because of all the crap Gambit went through or did you not like the other characters and the series in general either?

I’ve actually thought about this extensively and concluded that, spite and grudge aside, I just don’t think it is a good show overall. I stand by the belief that people are still enamored with the idea of a childhood show coming back, intoxicated by nostalgia to the point that they are willing to overlook its innumerous flaws.   

To be fair, the animation is awesome –consistently good and fluid and colorful, it’s great (I don’t exactly love all the characters’ designs, esp the women are not that great, but that’s a minor nitpick), the script, however, is ridiculous, full of inconsistencies and incongruences, so many plot holes and favoritism. Didn’t the old groomer die? How was he alive? Don’t know, doesn’t matter, just roll with it. 

At the same time that the script relied on the knowledge we have on TAS, it also shitted on it. 

I’ve talked about this before, so I’ll try to focus on other details. A lot of the characters are out of character, while others are just there, no reason or explanation. For example, the script dictated that Bishop had a minor role to play, which was to take Nathan to the future, so… that’s why he was there, no explanation of how or why he was back, nada. Then he had a forced moment of glory and disappeared (and he screwed up the only job he had).

Other things like, Storm and Rogue were very close in TAS, but since the disgusting pseudo writer-who-shall-not-be-named preferred Jean and Storm’s relationship, that’s what we got. And also in order for the repulsive, nonsensical grooming retcon to “work” Rogue needed to be isolated, so that was another reason (not that the pedophile retcon worked, cause it did not work at all, it made no sense in terms of continuity and who the characters were. Rogue isn’t Rogue. Her character was assassinated. 

Other things like Storm not even acknowledging her supposed best friend’s death because, you know, “some things end up in the cutting room floor” but there was time for indulging scenes of the old pedo being shaved, who is now more handsome, athletic and desirable than ever, with the biggest dick of all, I kid you not. 

When I say the script is weak, to put it delicately, I mean that not only are the characters not treated or developed well but things are also too easy and rushed. Morph happened to know where Sinister was. So convenient. Since the show plays favorites there are no consequences for favorite characters’ actions. Shady old groomer killed thousands and thousands of people around the globe, and what he did to Wolverine, but that’s just brushed aside, because, you know, he’s got the biggest dick and is the fucking protagonist. In an X-Men fucking show. 

Storm’s episodes were slow and boring. Wolverine had little to nothing to do. Roberto and Jubilee took up too much screen time and nothing meaningful came out of it. And then there’s Gambit… 

So, yeah, Gambit being humiliated and killed off half away through makes me nuts but the whole thing… it’s just not good. Mashing two or three different great comic storylines in one episode is not what I find to be a particularly well written and thought out plot. And let’s not forget all the lies and misleading information during the airing. It baffles me how some fans are still paying attention and taking at face value what the jerk and the insufferable voice actor said/say. Urgh, hate her guts.  

If, and only if, the retcon was retconned and we got something better next season, I might look back and see it with more tolerant eyes, but I know in my heart of hearts that is just wishful thinking on my part; it’s not happening, and it wouldn’t undo all the agonizing weeks of waiting and the subsequent months of never getting it over. I’ve never gotten it over.

[fellthemarvelous]

I can't stop with the Staged parallels (crossing over with Doctor Who and Good Omens)

I think the main takeaway from Staged 3 is that David and Michael are so co-dependent they end up driving each other crazy.

Michael and David were asked to do an advert.

Michael said no, and thought that meant they were both saying no.

Then David said yes after Michael said no.

And neither of them want to do series three, but David thinks Michael is going to do with series three without him and Michael thinks David is going to do series three without him, so they both agree to do it just to spite the other.

And Georgia is just sitting there after they agree to do the third series like

because she got them to do exactly what she wanted them to do while making them think it was their idea. She knows that everyone just really loves to watch David and Michael bicker so she keeps putting them in situations where she knows they are going to do nothing but argue the entire time.

As Lucy said in season two, "I don't have a relationship like that with anybody" (something like that) after Georgia told her that David and Michael's conversations are like gas, just filling the room with their nonsense because neither of them knows when to stop talking.

And all of this is the very reason that Georgia and Anna and Lucy and Lily (Michael's first daughter) and Olivia Coleman all jump in on the call to be like NOTHING LASTS FOREVER because Michael had just told David he thinks they need to take a break from each other and David was refusing to let go because he's clearly not good at letting go of things...

That was the real David talking. David loved being the Doctor so much that those became Ten's last words. (Why do you think RTD trusted David to bring the old era of Doctor Who to a close?)

That is the real fucking David Tennant right there getting a happy ending with his best friend, Catherine Tate, because Doctor Who will always be her home as well even though she still knows absolutely nothing about the show and I love her for that.

Just wait until we see both Crowley and Aziraphale smiling at each other like that.

Anyway, things are going to be okay. Just like Michael said.

[tyetknot]

We live in a world in which the GOP is spending the day before the US federal election canonizing some dude's pet squirrel that bit someone when it was confiscated and had to be put down so they could check it for rabies and it turned out that the squirrel's owner was putting squirrel videos on Tiktok to drive traffic to his gay porn OnlyFans. As an outside observer I am having trouble precisely articulating the particular combination of horror and fascination I am experiencing, and I can assure you that I am a seasoned gazer into the abyss that is American political discourse. I don't even fucking live there! I live in fucking Canada, for Gods' sakes! But we have to hear about this frankly unhinged insane shit and act as though somehow America is a sane and rational nation in spite of all this insane shit that inevitably creeps up north because Americans refuse to stop exporting their brainworms and in three week's time we'll all have to hear Pierre Pollievre Adult Milhouse beaking off about something equally insane in the House and Trudeau will once again fail to reply with "shut up, nerd" and steal Petey's lunch money.

There should be two separate Internets that can never interact. One of them should be for Americans and one of them should be for the rest of us so we don't have to engage with this nonsensical trash anymore.