#but if anyone more qualified than me wants to speak on that absolutely go off bc i know it's a huge problem

[fox-mulder-gets-pegged]

Me when I see people reducing fictional women (especially woc and queer women) to The Bitch/The Mom/The Keeper Of The Braincell/The Reason Your Gay Ship Isn't Canon/The Sexy One/etc

[lvis44]

Senna or Superman // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Talk of this seasons difficulties, Suggestive dialogue, (Felipe Massa jump scare mention), Not Edited

Word Count: 4.3k+

Summary: Brazil 2024 was unforgiving, but amidst it all some greatness can still be achieved.

Notes: Hey y'all, like I said, I was feeling like typing and needed to work on something different for a second and I think I can speak for all of us that today had me feeling all of the emotions. There's definitely some angst in here but a lot of it is just absolute fluff and reader being an absolute Stan of her boyfriend, bc who wouldn't be if they were dating Lewis Hamilton, lets be real. Also, I've said it once I will say it again, I cannot follow a tense to save my life to ignore that. Kisses xxxx!!!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

You hadn’t gotten much sleep and you were feeling it as you sat in the back of the Mercedes garage. Lewis had been hyper and full of anxious energy when he returned to the hotel last night. He had spent most of the previous day bobbing around the paddock like an energetic child, complaining about the delay in qualifying and trying to convince anyone that would listen to him that they should be sent out to try and put a lap together. He’s in Brazil, he wants to put on a show, but he’d been forced to wait much to his dismay and that had left you having to deal with him. He had been hyper after being so ready to go but never getting the release from his adrenaline and also annoyed that the sport had changed so much, yapping on about how when he first got to F1 they would have sent them out and that danger and adrenaline is a key part of the sport. You tried incessantly to get him to chill but you really had to just let him wear himself out, much like an actual child. It wasn’t until later in the evening, laying against his chest after finally convincing him to try to get some sleep, that you really got the answer to his emotions.

~

“I’m so excited and honored that I’m driving the MP4 tomorrow, but I’m also nervous. I was so prepared to do it today but having to wait, delaying the gratification, it’s really getting to me.” Lewis whispered into the comfortable silence, surprising you with the unprompted admission.

“It’s even more iconic to do it on race day.” You told him softly, rubbing your hand against his warm chest hoping to lighten the weight of whatever way playing in his mind.

He just hummed in response, evidently deep in his thoughts, his arm tightening around you ever so slightly.

“It’s understandable that you’re nervous Lew, you’re driving a piece of history, not just history to the sport but to your own personal journey and career. You’ve been asked to drive your idols car, the man is the reason you found your calling. Superman or Senna, right?” You kept your voice quiet, realizing that he needed to talk this through a bit more but not wanting to disrupt the peace that had settled around the two of you.

He smiled down at you as he heard the last part of your statement, chuckling lightly,  “Superman or Senna, yes indeed.” He trailed off for a moment, the soft smile lingering on his lips as he stared at the ceiling, almost as if reminiscing over those years when those were his two goals in life, back as a young boy in Stevenage. “What’s kinda funny is that it’s not that I’m really nervous about driving the car itself, like I feel confident in that part, I feel like I’m more than capable. It’s that I’m nervous that I don’t deserve this or something, this is a big deal and I would never want anyone to regret this decision or something. I honestly don’t even really know, like I don’t know why they would regret it I just, I don���t know. Just not really sure I’m worthy of this.” He finished his rant, letting out a deep sigh.

Hearing his thoughts caused you to sit up, no longer caring if you broke the peace in the room. You stared directly at him, eyes locked with his that were evidently startled at your abrupt departure from your cuddle.

“Lewis, I need you to listen to me. They chose you, Senna's family specifically chose you and asked you.” You started, poking him in the chest for emphasis before putting the same finger over his lips to shush him when he tried to argue. “They could have asked any of the other drivers on the grid, they could have asked a retired driver, they could honestly have asked whoever the hell they wanted, but no they asked for you. Not the current reigning champion, not the owner of the car, not even a Mclaren driver. They asked you, not only because they recognize your talent but because they see him in you. They see the love and respect that the people of Brazil have for you and they see you return that tenfold. This beautiful country made you a citizen for a reason, they see you carry that flag with the same pride as your own. Lew even Felipe Massa said that you deserve to be the one to drive that car and isn’t he like literally suing you right now?”

You finally let out a huff before the both of you erupt in a fit of giggles, Lewis forcefully pulling you back down to him to wrap you tightly in his arms. 

“I didn’t know he said that, honestly rather shocking because yeah, pretty sure he is. But ya know, I heard he’s running out of money.” His lips hold a smirk as he looks down at you before you’re both consumed by another fit of giggles. “Thank you,” He whispers once you’ve both calmed down, his lips against your forehead, “I needed to hear that. You know I get too much in my own head sometimes. Still have a hard time believing that all of this is real after everything I’ve been through, where I came from, ya know?”

“I do,” You say, tilting your head up to press a soft kiss to his lips, “you’re allowed to still revel in it, even after all this time. It truly is mental, even if it’s been this way for a while now. And by the way, I’m pretty sure the only reason they would ever regret letting you drive that car is if you crash it into a wall and break it, so just don’t do that and I’m pretty sure everything will be just fine.” You giggle, giving him another kiss.

“Well damn woman, no pressure or anything.” He fakes offence before splitting into a grin with you.

“Hey,” you say, your voice softer again, “I know I’m biassed and all, but know that I can’t think of anyone more deserving of this honor and I am so incredibly proud of you. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back the tears when I see you in that Mclaren tomorrow. You are an incredibly blessed man but you do not take it for granted and I am honoured that I get to see how incredible you are every single day, as a driver, as a partner, but most importantly as a human. Let yourself enjoy this Lew, you deserve it and I will be there watching in awe.”

“I love you so so much.” He says, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls you impossibly closer to him.

“I love you too,” You tell him softly, placing a kiss on his chest where he has squished your face into him, “now get some sleep, you have to be up in a few hours for that stupid early morning quali.”

~

Lewis had left early in the morning, sneaking out of bed around 3:30 to get ready. Only waking you accidentally when he placed a soft kiss on your forehead as he was leaving. He was apologetic, telling you to go back to sleep and that he would see you at the track. Not that you were able to get much more sleep, needing to get up and get ready yourself if you wanted any chance of making it there on time. When you had finally arrived to the garage, you made sure to perch yourself in the back, trying to stay out of the way of all the busy people rushing around you.You only got to see Lewis for a brief moment, only having enough time to give him a quick kiss and send him off with a final good luck encouragement. It was pointless though, you both knew the car wasn’t going to perform to Lewis’ liking. If anything it had somehow gotten worse for this weekend. 

As you sat in the garage watching on you couldn’t help but cringe. Lewis was battling with the car, not even making it out of Q1. You knew his mood wouldn’t be amazing when he finally made his way back to you after going to be weighed and speak to the media. You watched the next session, baffled by the sheer chaos unfolding and you couldn’t help but pray that the race would end up being better. The grid was out of position and red flags were being thrown left and right. You let out a sigh when you saw your man finally enter the garage, his helmet still on. He stopped momentarily to speak with some of his engineers, shaking peoples hands and thanking them for their hard work. He finally locked onto you, gesturing for you to follow him as he made his way to his drivers room. When you walked in behind him you could see how heavy his shoulders were. His helmet had been discarded on the bench beside him but he still hadn’t turned around.

“Hey, we knew it was gonna be shit, right?” You said quietly, putting your hand on his damp back.

“Yeah, we did. I’m just so ready for this season to be over.” He finally said, letting out a deep breath as he turned to face you.

“We’re so close babe, so so close. And for now we get to take a little time away from this devil of a car.” You told him, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands found your waist. Not caring one bit that he was soggy from the rain and the sweat, just content to be with your guy.

“Still got a race to do hun.” He reminded you, kissing his teeth.

“Oh I know, but let’s not think about that right now. I was talking about you getting behind the wheel of a Mclaren MP4 for a little while instead.” You smirk, leaning up towards his now smiling face.

“A proper race car.” He says, his smile threatening to split his face.

This is what you wanted, you wanted him to revel in the joy, revel in the honor of driving such an incredible car. Enjoy being behind the wheel of a Championship winning car once again even if it was only for a few laps and unlike the cars he was used to winning in. 

“A legacy meant for a hometown hero to carry on, and a race car meant for a World Champion. It’s been waiting for another great to stretch its legs and they found just the right Brazilian for the job.” You whispered to him, your faces incredibly close now. 

“If you keep talking like that I might end up locking you in here.” His voice is teasing as he wraps his arms around you.

“As much as I desperately want to say yes to that, I do believe you have something to get ready for.” You sigh, pulling back and patting his chest.

“I do, but we’ll use it for motivation later, I might need it.” He says as he peels himself off of you, his voice is playful but you both know he’s dead serious.

“The second we leave this track, I am all yours for as long as you want or need.” You promise, watching as he starts to change and prepare to go meet the Mclaren mechanics that have been looking after the historical car.

You sit in a comfortable peace for a while, occasionally exchanging words about little things that don’t really matter that much, just enjoying being in his space. You know that when the day is over you will have a full debrief, all of the frustration that he’s setting aside for this moment will inevitably bubble up once he’s in the safe privacy of the two of you alone, but for now you entertain his small talk and let him start to get excited about his incredible moment as he gets himself ready. When he’s ready he turns to  you with childlike excitement bubbling at the surface and you can feel your heart swell.

“This is a good look for you.” You tell him, eyeing the all white suit with the Brazilian flag at his waist.

“I’m still mad I can’t wear his actual helmet.” Lewis grumbles with a shake of his head.

“I hate to say, I actually agree with them on that one babe, let’s keep your head safe, yeah?” You laugh.

“I know I know, don’t think it would even fit on my head anyway.” He playfully groans, making his way over to you.

“I like the special helmet for this weekend though, it’s still a tribute.” You remind him, knowing he’s half joking but wanting him to be fully confident when he steps out.

He nods, taking a moment to admire you before he’s pulling you close and landing his lips on yours in a kiss that takes you by surprise with its force.

“Thank you, for everything,” He starts when he finally pulls away, his forehead resting on yours, “for reminding me that I’m allowed to revel in this, for keeping me grounded,for letting me be excited, just for everything.”

“Hey, that’s why I’m here. You do the exact same for me when I need it, it’s why we work so well.” You say quietly, your hand coming to stroke his beard gently.

“If I don’t get to see you before I get in the car, just know your words from last night are gonna be in my head the entire time. I’m gonna let myself enjoy this, let myself feel this. Nothing else about today matters other than honouring and paying tribute to my childhood hero and getting to live out my childhood dreams of driving the car that made me want to start racing around the circuit that introduced me to another home.” His voice holds excitement and certainty as he speaks that makes you want to cry and kiss him all at once.

You’ve never been quite so proud of the man in front of you. Yes, you’ve cheered for him since the beginning, before you even met him. You’ve wept when he’s broken records and won each and every championship. Yet nothing quite compares to seeing this amazing moment and knowing just how much he deserves it, knowing that there is no one better to hold this responsibility and honor. There is no one like Aryton Senna and truly there never will be, and there is no one like Lewis Hamilton and there truly never will be. 

“You know you’re doing for millions what he did for you, right?” You whisper, hoping he knows just the level of inspiration he gives to everyone watching him, young and old alike.

“I know, and it’s amazing to be able to do that.” He says, his smile warm.

You don’t say another word, giving him a long kiss, feeling connected to him in a way you both need in the moment, albeit for much different reasons. You are pouring every ounce of pride and amazement into the kiss, hoping he can feel it, while he is absorbing the love and reassurance that comes with your touch, letting himself feel his greatness and humble himself all at once. Finally there is a knock at the door, signalling that he really needs to get going, causing you to part from each other reluctantly. 

“Okay, I gotta go do the most amazing thing of my entire career.” He says with a smile, “Be here when I get back?”

“I can’t promise I won’t be sobbing out near the pit wall but I will definitely find you, promise.” You laugh, giving him one last kiss before he grabs his helmet and makes his way over to the media garage where the incredible car is being stored for him.

It takes you a little while to get out to the pit lane that is already lined with people. You wish you could be closer, see the car up close but this isn’t your moment. Today is for Senna's family and the people of Brazil, you are just lucky enough to be able to witness the incredible moment in person.You know Lewis is somewhere down the pitlane, most likely trying to stay calm as he geeks out over the amazing machine he is about to drive. He has driven one of Senna’s cars before, but not in a long time, and not in this setting, not with this honor and audience. You also know that no matter how many times he may have had the privilege of being around and driving incredible race cars, he is a racing driver through and through and the excitement will never change. While you’re standing there smiling to yourself, thinking about how excited Lewis must be and taking in the incredible aura of the crowd, you catch sight of the live stream playing on the jumbotron. There he is, getting in his idols car, you watch as he takes a moment to really take it in just before he’s being strapped in. It’s funny to you to see him surrounded by Mclaren mechanics again, to see the goodyear tires you remember from your first ever F1 races. Then they’re rolling him out and the crowd gets their first in person glimpse of the car over the wall and the cheers echo through your soul. It takes a few more minutes for them to be ready and the atmosphere is building with anticipation but then they start the engine. The first rumble sends a chill down your spine and silences the track. The sound of the V10 roaring to life evoked a visceral feeling from you, bringing back memories of why you fell in love with the sport as a child in the first place and you could only imagine what the emotions coursing through Lewis in that moment were. You saw him shake his head in disbelief as he revved the engine and you could just picture the boyish grin that would be covering his face at that moment. Then it cut, he stalled, and you heard the boos and wanted to run and protect him. You knew it wasn’t his fault, and realistically you knew the crowd wasn’t booing him, they were booing the disruption of the soundtrack that was the incredible V10 engine and you also knew Lewis was smart enough to know that as well. The mechanics were quick, getting the engine back up rapidly and soon enough Lewis was headed out toward the track. He took a moment, the mechanics meeting him again and you prayed that everything would go to plan, this moment was too important to everyone for anything not to be perfect. And then you saw him, speeding past you in Senna’s Mclaren down the pit straight. The spray of water adding to the moment as he waved at the fans who were evidently stunned at the spectacle in front of them. Their recently adopted hero bringing them back to a moment with their lifelong hero. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you watched him complete lap after flawless lap, handling the car like he’d been driving it for years. You could only imagine what the emotions flowing through his body must be, so incredibly grateful to be able to witness the moment. When you saw him stop to grab the flag your tears picked up, watching the beauty of the moment as he completed his dream of waving his new country's flag as he drove his idol's car with no hands around the wet track. Everything about the moment was pure poetry. 

By the time he parked the car on the grid, you were sure there wasn’t a dry eye in the entirety of Sao Paulo. You watched through teary eyes as Viviane went and spoke to him as he collected himself in the cockpit. You could see her thanking him and you knew that he was thanking her just as profusely. You tried to dry your eyes as you watched them pose with Senna's helmet while Lewis sat in the car, but they came back quickly. You finally managed to pull yourself together just a little bit as you watched him pose with flag but the second he knelt down next to the car as if to thank it for everything it had done for him and his idol, you lost it again, You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself just a bit, your emotions were definitely getting the best of you. You could see the emotion on Lewis’ face as he too pulled himself together to get ready for the interview. He was beaming, eternally grateful for the opportunity. You listened as he described his love for Brazil and the love he has received from the fans, you could hear the emotion thick in his voice the entire time, even through the incredible joy that was paired with it. You knew he meant it when he said it was the ‘honor of his career’ and you were certain this would be a moment that neither of you ever forgot. Everything about it was purely beautiful, seeing everyone pause for something so meaningful, you weren’t sure you had ever seen the sport so at one in your entire life.

When you saw him finally making his way to the pit lane you scramble to try to pull yourself together, hoping to be somewhat emotionally sound when you went to meet him in his drivers room, but he found you first, a strong arm slinking around your waist before you were being crushed in a tight hug. When he finally let you go you took a moment to take him in. The emotions were written all over his face, the weight of the profound moment sinking in for him as the joy was palpable. He took in your state, his eyes softening, knowing that every emotion on your face came from your love for him and your love for the sport.

“C’mon, lets go be alone for a second.” He said softly, guiding you toward the garage.

When you were safely inside his drivers room you turned to him, your words dying on your tongue as they didn’t feel enough to express just how proud of him you were. Instead you opted to grasp his face in your hands and kiss him, hard, tears falling down your cheeks as you did. When you finally parted from him you saw that the smile had never left his face.

“I think you’re more emotional about that entire thing than I am.” He teased you softly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

“Stop it,” You laughed, swatting at him pathetically, “I’m just so proud of you and so happy for you. I can only imagine what that meant to you.”

“Yeah, it was surreal, never had so many emotions at once. It felt incredible, it truly felt like a dream come true.” He said as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you toward him.

“I was right you know, there was no one more suited for that than you.” You tell him softly.

“You were absolutely right, that felt perfect, Viviane was so kind and so grateful, I will never forget this.” He sighs and you can tell the weight of the weekend is leaving his body with it.

“Nothing else that happens this weekend matters, okay? This was what it was all for.” You assure him, placing your hand on the side of his neck.

“Thank you, you’re right, that was truly the only reason I am here this weekend, none of the rest matters in the slightest.” His eyes are soft as he melts into your touch.

“I know you said you wanted to be Senna or Superman but I think you may have achieved both just now. You are more than a hero to just about everyone here, me included.” You tell him softly, staring deep into his eyes as you do.

“That means a lot, I felt it while I was out there. It was a crazy feeling, getting to be that for everyone.” He says earnestly.

“You do it way more frequently than you think, even if you haven’t been feeling it lately.” You assure him, wanting him to know just how much you mean it.

He doesn’t respond but you can tell he’s just taking it in as he lets out a breath and traces circles on your hip. He’s a confident man, cocky at times, but even the strongest of soldiers can be weak in the face of defeat.

“I know you are a natural born competitor, but let's make a deal that your only objective today is just to come back to me in one piece. That’s all I ask of you.” You say after a moment, listening to the rain pickup against the roof.

“I will absolutely come back to you, but I ain’t making any promise about not also trying to pull that tractor as far forward as I can.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay fair enough, just need you in tiptop shape to be my superman when we get back to the hotel tonight.” You smirk, pinching his bicep.

“Well when you put it like that why don’t we just leave on a high note and head back right now?” He asks playfully, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m down, but you’ve gotta go keep being both Senna and Superman.” You giggle.

“Okay, I’ll do my best, but I’m still holding you to that even if this race is shit.” He says, pinching your bum.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[lanawinterscigarettes]

What about smth for JD (heathers) with an s/o who's equally as possessive and protective over him, maybe even more so?

I fucking love it when the reader perfectly matches the characters energy omg

Jason Dean with an s/o who's just as possessive/protective as he is

Warnings: gender neutral reader, both the reader and JD are possessive and protective to an unhealthy extent, JD and the reader are a match made in hell (which means they're naturally perfect for each other), codependent relationship to the max here, swearing, dark humor, mentions of murder/death, mentions of gun use, some smutty/nsfw stuff

As much as JD likes to mess with you, he actually does appreciate just how much you seem to love and care for him. Far too often has he been in relationships where it seemed as though he was the only one who was putting in any effort that he eventually began to lose hope he'd one day find someone who loved and worshipped him as much as he does for them

Then you showed up, and everything in his life seemed to get ten times better. He actually started attending school more often just so he can see you, especially if he knows you won't skip

However- that doesn't mean that he won't push your buttons, because he absolutely will. Believe me when I say that he's going to have at least a little fun at your expense

He'd never actually cheat, as he's way too clingy for that (unless he got really pissed off and wanted to teach you a lesson or something, but even then he'd probably end up killing the person afterwards) but he does find it amusing to see your reaction to him flirting with other people

It doesn't even have to be anyone he actually likes, in fact, he purposely goes out of his way to flirt with people he hates and actively talks shit about in front of you because he knows how mad you'll get. He's an asshole, what can I say

The look of silent rage that appears on your face whenever you see him walk up to any random guy or girl gets him chuckling everytime. He'll stay over there and flatter said random person until you storm over and drag him away from the conversation

Don't think that just because he flirts with other people that you can, that'd be crazy. How dare you talk to anyone other than him? What do you have, a death wish or something? (You flirt with other people anyway because he's not the boss of you and you can do what you want)

It's all in good fun though, because neither one of you would ever let anyone else lay their hands on the other, whether that be in a violent or sexual manner (or both). In fact, you guys even joke that if one of you ended up cheating on the other all three people involved would die, because there's no way the cheater or the person they'd cheated with would be allowed to live and the other couldn't live knowing their beloved was gone (it's actually not that much of a joke, but since you guys are so attached to each other that would probably never happen)

Speaking of committing murders, you guys do! All the time! :D (I don't know why I'm saying this like it's a good thing lol) Anytime someone does something to piss either one of you off, the two of you turn it into a date where you both kill the person, frame it as a suicide, then go back to your house for sex while the adrenaline is still pumping fast through your veins

Jealousy sex/make-up sex happens fairly often, by the way. You two may love each other, but because your personalities are so similar they're bound to end up clashing at some point, which leads to explosive arguments that typically end in "hate sex" (it's not really hate sex since you guys still love each other but given how much you both curse each other out and literally say "I hate you" during it I guess it could qualify)

Neither one of you really have any friends, not that you'd need them when you have each other. In fact, the only time you ever hang out with anyone else is when you're purposely trying to get JD riled up, and vice versa

I know he acts pretty aloof but I like to think that deep down he's actually really flattered to have someone who's crazy over him the same way he is over you. To someone as clingy and obsessed as him, it's almost like the highest honor, y'know?

End notes: I'm finally working on old asks yippeee

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | Heathers masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @caplanreblogsfics

[bucket-of-f1]

2024 Sao Paulo

Sorry for the late post I didn't have time to watch this weekend BUT

THE

ANGLES

Some of the qualifying camera angles were AMAZING, like look at these fuckers

I absolutely love the gyro-cam.

Showing the main rival at the moment on a small screen on the corner? Also genius.

Even better is the timetables at the bottom of the screen, showing Hamilton’s and Norris’s times (main screen and small screen, respectively) compared to the current top time for that sector. We see Hamilton, in Sector 3, competing with Tsunoda’s time of 1:29.172 (his final time at the end of that sector, also his final lap time) and Norris fighting through Sector 2 against Tsunoda’s 1:10.253. I LOVE this UI graphic (I know its not actually User Interface but that's what it feels like). It’s so useful, it gives viewers an incredibly efficient and interesting way to keep up with the race without cluttering the screen. You can check if you want or care, and if you don’t, you still know what’s going on.

Speaking of Tsunoda:

There is no front row that could make me happier right now. I know Tsunoda didn’t finish quali in 2nd, but oh my god I love that screenshot. Get him out of VCARB and put him in a damn RB. I like Perez but, still, looking at performance? Put Tsunoda in an RB. He deserves it.

(I’m a Tsunoda fan, can you tell)

ALSO can we talk about Williams and their crew?

Like

This is the accident that Albon had, and it is NASTY. I genuinely cringed away from my screen. And we know he’s okay (thank god for current safety restrictions), but this was the interaction between Albon and his Race engineer:

Albon: “Did the brakes fail?”

RE: “We-uh we’re checking- oh- A- Alex a-are you o- are you okay?”

Albon: “Yeah.”

Go watch the recording. The actual concern in the race engineer’s voice is obvious. Albon’s race engineer is James Urwin, and they’ve been working together for two years as Driver/RE. This is the second of what I think was eventually three rebuilds of Williams cars this weekend, and they’re still more concerned about the drivers than anything else. It’ll be a nice change of pace for Sainz next year.

Last thing:

I feel like people are losing their minds about Verstappen, but this is not the first time we’ve seen him pull this off, not even the first time at Sao Paulo. Go watch the 2016 Sao Paulo Highlights. That was an absolutely nasty race in terms of conditions, and Verstappen pulled out magic — back then it seemed like he pulled it out of his ass, but now we know how good he is. That was just early proof. I’m not a massive Verstappen fan, which I’m not gonna get into right now but I will if someone is interested, but I have massive respect for his skill as a driver, and anyone who doesn’t is blind.

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 15 - The Shadow and The Brute

This is the latest Brumaria AU, a Hero/Villain story! Bruno aka The Brute belongs to Izzy, and bits of his dialogue in this were written by her.

Taglist: @painful-pooch , @sssunshinebreeze

The Shadow of Death Masterlist

No. 15: “I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.” | Suppressed Suffering

Contains: lady whump, touch aversion, strangulation, referenced whipping, referenced stress position, corporal punishment, hidden injuries

.

.

Kamaria doesn’t feel like being here. Not that there’s anything new about that, being in good physical condition is a foreign concept and most of her missions aren’t anything she’s personally invested in, anyway. There are often a hundred other places she’d rather be than where she’s sent, in bed usually being one of them. 

But today is particularly bad. She usually at least gets a night to recover after a punishment before she’s sent out again, but no, Roderick had to get ticked at her for whatever reason this morning. And absolutely nobody cares that she has fresh whip marks on her back, chafing underneath her clothes, and they definitely don’t care that her throat is so bruised she can barely even speak. They only care about her taking out some low-level criminal that’s interfering with their plans for the city.

Which she’d be doing, no problem, except that The Brute showed up. Nothing new about that, either, and normally an encounter with him doesn’t exactly dampen her mood. But today, she really wishes that for once, he wouldn’t be so annoyingly good at his job. Why can’t he just leave her alone today? She just wants to kill the stupid criminal and go back to headquarters to lick her wounds in private, but she’s stuck here in one of their half-hearted fights, listening to his one-sided banter. 

“Looks like somebody didn’t get enough sleep last night.” Brute dodges yet another of her knife swipes easily, returning it with a punch that she just barely manages to miss herself. “You’re slow today.”

Usually she’d throw a barb right back at him, but just the thought of speaking makes her throat burn. She throws a knife, instead, which sticks in the brick wall just beside his ear.

“Ooh, not enough sleep makes you grumpy, too, I guess. Or should I say…even grumpier than usual? Going for the ‘silent and deadly’ style today.” He yanks the small knife out of the mortar and inspects it. “Doesn’t really bode well for me.”

Yes, she’s grumpy. She’d like to growl at him to shut up, she’s not in the right headspace to make light of this situation. Their fights barely qualify as such, since neither of them really want to harm the other, a fact that she absolutely refuses to examine and adamantly pretends isn’t true. She even sometimes enjoys getting to battle it out with the hero, even on days when her pain level is worse than usual. 

Maybe it’s because she can’t snark back at him and get into the mood of the fight. For whatever reason, she just wants to get this over with, but unfortunately just because he seems to kind of like her doesn’t mean he’s willing to back off and let her do her job. She’s going to have to somehow give him the slip if she wants to avoid even more punishment when she gets back.

“Seriously? Nothing to say at all?”

I have plenty to say. I’d like to say go away. Leave me alone. I need to do this so I don’t get beaten to a pulp tonight. 

I’d kind of like to ask how the only gentleman I’ve ever met ended up fighting on the side of the people I hate the most. Or why you seem to give a flip about me, a villain, at all.

I’d like to tell you that it feels like someone lit my back on fire, because I get the feeling you’d be the only person in the world that somehow actually cared.

She swings at him again, just nicking his arm with the tip of the blade. He doesn’t seem to notice, pushing closer and grabbing onto that wrist. Anyone else, she’d bring her left hand up and stab them directly in the chest. But it’s Brute. She can’t kill him, no matter how aggravated she might be with him. So she allows him to get close and doesn’t fight back yet, unaware of just how uncomfortable it’s going to be until he grabs her other arm, too, and spins her around to press her back into the bricks.

Her breath hitches in her throat, but her mind is only partially on the pain coursing through her back. He’s never pinned her before, she doesn’t usually let him. Being pinned means being hurt. 

But this is Brute. He never hurts her, not badly, at least. 

But he is hurting her. 

But he doesn’t mean to. 

Still, no matter how logical she tries to force herself to be about it, her instincts and memories are stronger. She struggles against him, face carefully blank but heart pounding too fast. 

Let go let go let go let go 

“Hey, calm down, Shadow. I’m not gonna hurt you!” He doesn’t let up, his grip strong but not bruising. “What is your deal today? Are you mad at me or something?”

Again, if he was anyone else, she’d be using the little bit of movement she has in her left arm to reach for another knife. Instead, she kicks at his shins, hoping to dissuade him. 

“Ow.” He still doesn’t let go. She might have to go for the knife after all. The longer she’s trapped, the less she’s able to think straight to see the problem with just stabbing him. 

“Shadow. Look, I’ll let you go in a second, but can you just tell me what’s -” He cuts off abruptly, leaning his face in closer. “Crap. What happened to you?”

She realizes suddenly that this close, he can see the bruises peeking out from underneath her hood. That’s not what she wanted at all, now he’ll start asking questions and she’ll have to try to explain, if not now then some other day because he’s Brute and he doesn’t give up. Forget not hurting him or her own split-open skin, she needs to get away. She shoves hard and kicks out again, reaching for the knife at the same time.

Thankfully, he lets her go this time, backing away with his hands spread in front of him. She still bolts away from the wall, adjusting her grip on the handle and holding out the blade as if he’ll attack.

“Who did that to you?”

Her back is even worse than before, thanks to scraping it up against the bricks. Now she needs to use her voice, too. “Doesn’t matter.” It sounds exactly as horrendous as she imagined it would, and feels like she’s swallowing nails. 

“Yes, it does.” He sounds so deadly serious about it. Is he offended that she’s faced off against someone besides him? If he knew it was her own handler he wouldn’t be. He’d probably laugh in her face about how pathetic she is.

“We’re in the same line of work. You know these things happen.”

Brute sighs, shaking his head. “I can barely get a hit on you…most days other than today. I know there’s more to this, Shadow.”

Kamaria forces a smirk. “Maybe you’re just not as good as the other heroes.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Or maybe there’s a villain that’s been picking a fight with you.” Crossing his arms, he looks her up and down. “So who is it? Asking for a friend.”

“Can’t stand for someone else to be the one beating me up?” He needs to drop the subject so that she can stop talking. Maybe she can pretend to lose her voice altogether.

“I don’t think that counts as beating you up.”

“Not everyone is as reluctant to dirty their hands as you are.”

“Are you sure it was their hands they were dirtying?” He’s walking closer again, and she resists the urge to skitter backwards until he reaches out like he’s going to lift her chin with his fingers and inspect the bruises again. His hands go back up in surrender when she jerks away before he can touch. “I’m sorry! I won’t touch. But Shadow…” He sucks in a deep breath, jaw clenching and unclenching. “Is that a boot print?”

She can feel it almost as clearly as if it’s happening right now and not a few hours ago. Her lying on the floor where she’d been struck down, Roderick looming over her. The tread of his boot pressing, pressing, pressing into her throat. The delighted smile on his face. Her body jerking without her permission, desperate to get away even as her mind tells her she’s not allowed to fight back. Realizing with sudden dread that he may actually completely crush her throat, either killing her or taking away her voice for good. The darkness slowly taking over her vision as her oxygen supply dwindles.

Kamaria inhales sharply as if to prove to herself that she still can and focuses back in on Brute’s face. “I still think you’re jealous.”

“No, I’m not jealous because I have no desire to do such a thing to you.” He sighs again, running a hand through his hair. “You’re just as stubborn as always. Would you actually tell me if something was wrong?”

No. “Nothing’s wrong.” She smiles a little, trying to reassure him. Nothing’s wrong, this is just how my life is.

He grumbles a little under his breath. “Fine. Can we at least call this done and go home, since you clearly don’t feel like being here? You can just nod, you don’t have to speak.”

Grateful but trying to seem nonchalant, she gives a distinct nod. 

“Good. I’ll see you around, Shadow. Take care of yourself.”

He turns to leave, and Kamaria begins walking in the direction she was heading before, toward the criminal’s place of work. 

“Excuse me, I’m fairly certain that’s not the way you should be going right now.” Brute is glaring at her, arms crossed. Again, being annoyingly good at his job when she really needs him to just let her be.

She gives him her best innocent stare, but he just points toward where she came from. “I won this fight. That means you go home and don’t cause any more trouble today.”

Giving up any pretense, she glares daggers at him and turns on her heel, marching away. She can hear him chuckling behind her, completely oblivious to the trouble he is causing for her. She won’t give up yet, though. Being late on a mission still means punishment - and a longer time until she can properly care for her wounds - but it’s far worse to fail the mission altogether. She’ll bide her time, take the long way around, and try her best to take out her mark without any of the heroes catching her this time. Maybe she’ll get lucky for the first time today and only get stress positions instead of a beating or another whipping.

[pinkarachnia]

Lesbian Anime Review #11 - Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury

This is the first time I’ve watched a Gundam series and now I’m going to talk about my opinions about it on the internet. This will be fine.

- 9 July 2023 -

This is a weird one to review for me. I usually review anime where the lesbian themes are one of the most prominent elements of the show, but Gwitch is a Gundam anime first and foremost, which happens to feature some girls who like girls.

It’s made me stop and consider what my qualifiers are for a “lesbian anime”, because I think this is one. If I boil it down to a few key factors, those would be:

1. It’s about lesbians.

2. Gay themes are addressed in the text.

3. It’s FOR lesbians, or at least, lesbians could enjoy this.

And yeah, in that respect, Gwitch makes the cut. Even if they only acknowledge the second point once at the end of episode 1 (not the prologue) when Miorine looks straight into the camera and says “gay rights”. I loved this part at the time, but in hindsight, I think it set me up to expect that the gay romance between the two main characters would feature more prominently in the show than it ultimately did. I know I’m not alone in that either; when I finished the last episode I immediately looked at the comments on Crunchyroll and it seemed like a few people felt let down by the lack of on-screen romantic moments, but I think that’s a given when the show kicks off with a very Gundam prologue episode (more on the war crimes later) followed by an episode 1 that screams, “we made it just like Utena”, complete with girls rotating around each other in the opening.

Fuck, do I need to finish watching Utena before I can write the rest of this? I was saving it for later in my yuri quest but if there’s anything I’ve learned from Gwitch it’s that anime people won’t hesitate to bite your head off if you try to have a take without doing the mandatory research.

- 17 July 2023 -

I’m 25 episodes into Utena.

Fucking hell this anime is good. I mean that’s not news to anyone but like, I was putting it off until later in my lesbian anime schedule because I was treating it like it would be my reward for persevering through worse content and it hasn’t disappointed. It deserves the pedestal it’s put on. Kiss and love and true your heart.

- 23 July 2023 -

I have finished Revolutionary Girl Utena and the movie. Now I feel like I can speak with some more authority on the comparisons between Gwitch and Utena. However, today I’m seeing Barbie so you might have to wait a bit longer for my Gundam review.

- 27 July 2023 -

So Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury absolutely wants you to think it’s like Utena. Here are some reasons why!

It’s set in a high school with institutionalised duelling.

The champion of duelling wins the right to marry a certain woman.

There’s a council of students (I guess? If not formally then they fit the niche) and they’re all kind of fucked up and they’re the main participants in the duels.

The trophy girl has a garden where she predominantly grows a certain type of plant.

The main character gets to wear a different uniform to everyone else.

It’s lesbian.

One of the main characters is bold and in pursuit of revolutionary goals while the other is timid and subservient to a powerful family member.

Ichirou Ookouchi, credited for script and series composition, wrote the light novel adaption of Revolutionary Girl Utena.

So yeah, I think there’s plenty of reasons to suggest that this was intentional. I think that’s important because for me, it set me up with certain expectations for the series. From the beginning, it seems like Gwitch makes a point of the fact that it features a gay romance and the Utena parallels only serve to strengthen this impression.

I’ll circle back to this when I get into spoilers but to keep it brief, I don’t think it’s queerbait and I do think they were genuine in wanting to depict that relationship. However, I can also understand why there were people who were outspoken about wanting to see more on screen romantic scenes, particularly concerning the ending. I don’t necessarily agree that it needed more, but I understand that perspective. When I consider how Gwitch initially presented itself, with a self-aware juxtaposition of its characters, themes and setting to one of the most renowned and acclaimed anime series about a gay romance between women, I can’t dismiss that take like they should have known better or had different expectations. Their expectations were set by the show and how it invited those comparisons up front.

It’s going to be really hard to write my Utena review.

Spoilers commence below the gifs

It’s several weeks later but I’m not timestamping this any more.

I’ll cut to the chase regarding the Gundam ending: the main leads get married off screen and you don’t see them kiss or anything so overtly romantic. I think that’s fine though. They didn’t need to do that to satisfy me. Like I said earlier up, I think this was a genuine attempt at portraying a gay relationship. The fact that they end up together at the end demonstrates to me that the portrayal of the romance between the two up until the ending was earnest, so it’s a win in my books.

By this point the big evil company has come out and made some comment like “it’s up for interpretation” or whatever but if you look at it for half a second you can see how you’re meant to interpret it.

But that’s enough about all that; who really gives a shit? This is a lesbian anime review so I’m going to finish this review in the most lesbian way I can.

Here’s my

Top 5 robots from Gwitch

5 - ChuChu’s Demi Trainer

The meme answer slot goes to this unremarkable machine because I heard from one of my girlies who works at a hobby store that it’s the least popular model kit they sell.

It’s just a plain looking robot with a gun but the feet look kind of like Shadow the Hedgehog’s shoes. I just noticed that now. Anyway.

4 - Gundam Lfrith Ur

It’s Sophie’s Gundam! It has a large gun. I like this robot because I like Sophie, so it gets to earn my love vicariously.

I don’t find anything about the design particularly outstanding, but this one earns a spot on my list due to having a Beam Gatling Gun. Brrrrrr.

It also has another gun on its back called a Phased Array Cannon. No idea what that’s about but cool robot.

Man if I was a Gundam fan I would hate this top 5.

3 - Gundam Schwarzette

BIiiiiiig swoooooooord.

But there’s actually a smaller sword surrounded by other parts called Bit Staves that form a sheath and it can do cool shit like this:

That’s a dope robot! Kind of wish it was just a giant fuck off sword but I can’t have it all.

No other notes. I’m going to finish this goddamn review.

2 - Gundam Calibarn

Cool gun strikes again only cooler.

This one has a rocket on the back of the gun. It opens up like this:

It’s got some rainbow shit going on too and that’s cute. Not a lot of screen time for this guy but it was put into the opening theme and that’s cool.

Oh fuck I haven’t talked about the songs.

Gwitch had one of my favourite anime openings of 2022. There have been a few great YOASOBI anime songs lately and this one went hard, true to form. I think all the songs they got for this show were great though. I never skipped an OP/ED. Whenever I see a show with a Supercell song it somehow feels special. Maybe I’ve just imagined that there’s any prestige there but I like it so whatever.

Back to robot.

1 - Darilbalde

Beetle looking fucker. Not the only one but I like this one the most because it’s red.

Guel gets to pilot all the coolest suits in this show. Dude gets all the beetle guys.

Look at this bastard:

Sick. Check out the polearm.

This isn't even the guy I've given the number 1 slot to, I just think it's cool. Fuck it, Dilanza can also be number 1.

As you can probably tell by now, I'm not great at articulating why I think any of these are good, but I don't really think that matters. I've spent so much time dwelling on "war is bad" that I've neglected "cool robot", and sometimes I think it's just fine to be the guy who wants to look at the cool robot. I also think it's fine to be the guy who just wants to look at girls kissing. Sometimes you can be both.

Anyway, Witch of Mercury was alright. More named characters should have died probably. I prefer the robots from Code Geass.

I'm giving this one a 7 out of 10.

[lunarfly-studios]

Mistletoe #2 for Kit

okay for some reason it's not letting me just copy/paste text so here

OKAY So I'm assuming this is for BMFM!Kit since that's the most recent one I've been posting about lately.

Short Answer: Yes.

Long Answer: It depends on your definition of 'friends'.

Lets be clear: In the universe of BMFM, after the stars and the planets aligned to work out a certain way, she became a billionaire overnight at age 20/21 with no warning. She already didn't really have friends before all this, except maybe for one (that I might need to design), and she wasn't anyone's favorite 'quiet art kid' in high school. After acquiring that much wealth, she had even fewer fans.

Because of A. Her circumstances helping to care for a very large family, B. Her own insecurity, and C. Her crippling anxiety and depression, even before she became rich, she was already extremely isolated and had little to no social life.

You would think after becoming rich, she'd have a million friends, ro at least acquaintances, but other than her household staff she inherited, she actually became even more isolated because she couldn't live with her family anymore. She had to relocate to a place she'd never been to, where she didn't know anyone. And the idea of trying to go out and make friends so soon after leaving the nest absolutely terrified her.

And fun fact about Kit: She's half Venusian, and Venusians can read minds. She tries not to because it's rude, but she's acutely aware of when people are genuinely being nice to her, kissing her ass for status or wealth, or kissing her ass out of fear of reprisal, and early on, it was almost consistently the latter two.

And that's not even getting into the fact that she has autism and ADHD, which can already make socializing and making friends hard.

It took her a while to take control of her estate, her company, and her life, but once she did, once she was more secure in her position in the company, her role in society, and the control and autonomy she had over her life, she very quickly became a social butterfly (no pun intended).

One of the things that's kept her as CEO this long, minus her sincere success, is her charm and charisma. She can get a read on what type of person someone is pretty quickly, whether by reading their mind or just studying their behavior. Cater to their interests and you've got anything from a friend to an acquaintance to an ally to a business colleague.

Of course only a handful of these actually qualify as 'friends'. There are a handful of other CEOs she's met that she just really hit it off with, but they were few and far between. A lot of wealthy elite businessmen and politicians are kinda passive aggressive towards her cause she has the audacity to not like it when her employees are living off food stamps.

She gets along very well with people in the media and culinary industries, though, mostly because they can sincerely connect over those passions.

The only people she could really consider CLOSE friends would be the three Biker Mice, Charley, Sisi, Li, Anastasia and Sabrina (that pre-rich friend i mentioned earlier that i need to design lol).

She's extremely good at building business connections and socializing with others, as draining as it is, but forging and maintaining strong, close connections is still like navigating a minefield for her. She's been burned by past friends and people she had crushes on in the past, so even after coming to like and trust most of these people, with the exception of Li and Sabrina, she keeps everyone at a certain emotional-arm's-length so to speak.

Fun to be around, kind, supportive, willing to listen and always wanting to help out? Absolutely. Letting someone close, letting others see her vulnerability, showing weakness around others, opening up to others... that's a rougher challenge.

In spite of the fact that she rationally knows all these people like her, deep down, she spends a good chunk of Season 1's episodes fully believing that her friends secretly resent her for her wealth and influence, and are just being nice about it. She's generally on edge, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It does after a while, but once that shoe drops and she gets assurance that "No, we don't hate you, you're a wonderful person and we love you", she slowly starts letting herself be vulnerable and opening up to others.

Maintaining relationships is hard for her, but she's grateful to find people who are willing to be patient and help her feel comfortable and safe.

...That said, she will absolutely crush anyone in 'biggest burp contests' even after just meeting them, she grew up in the south in a family of 14, you had to assert your dominance sOMEHOW.

[rietveild]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 sent by ➝ @pistolslinger ♡

What’s their texting style like?

to start off, kaz is an EXTREMELY sporadic texter, he will only reply when he has a reason to. if someone texts him just to catch up or check in, he's not responding. he'll read everything so that he knows exactly what's going on and what people want from him but he has read receipts turned off, so no one knows if he's seen it or not. in terms of HOW he texts, he's very to the point and he uses a lot of hard stops (ex: "No. What do you want?" "Stop talking to me." "You're an idiot."). he'll only use emojis if he's (rarely) making some sort of joke which is the type of thing he does solely with very VERY close friends.

kaz does, however, create and organize a crows group chat for "business purposes" and to "discuss work-related things with easy access" and then proceeds to never text in it and only snoop on the gossip that everyone shares within it. he also goes through a lot of burner phones so when he does text, he keeps conversations brief and they don't go on for long stretches of time.

What’s their handwriting like? is it easy to read or messy?

he's got this super messy scrawl with very thin lines and long loops where all of the letters are tightly crunched next to each other, basically on top of one another. while it is legible, he's far from having very clear/readable handwriting though if he NEEDS to have super easy-to-read handwriting and he has the time for it, he can mimic other styles to make it look more presentable or less identifiable. spend enough time with kaz and you'll be able to spot his handwriting from miles away and he knows it too, so he took the time to learn a variety of different penmanship skills, it's just not something that happens naturally.

When does your muse ask for help? ( when things get bad , before they get bad .etc )

he doesn't. if he absolutely KNOWS he cannot do something alone, he won't ask for help, but he'll hire qualified people for a job. the only SLIGHT exception to this is if he's literally on death's door and he knows he won't be able to save himself, he'll go to someone he trusts that he knows will help him without him having to ask

How does your muse laugh? is it infectious? quiet? obnoxious?

despite what he would have people believe, kaz generally has two different types of laughs: the first of which is performative and it's used in generally antagonistic conversations when he's belittling whoever he's speaking to. he does this in his very first conversation with van eck. it's a laugh that is quick, short, breathy, and more of a drawn out scoff than it is any genuine laughter.

his second laugh is his real one and it's something that very few people will ever hear in their lifetime. his laugh still manages to have his recognizable rasp which sort of makes it sound like he's gasping for breath?? but it's both light and heavy at the same time — while it comes from deep within his chest it comes out muffled and quiet. it sort of sounds like he's someone who is learning to laugh for the first time and, in a way, he is. i think purely because of the rarity in which he laughs, if anyone heard him genuinely laugh it would be totally infectious

[evilkitten3]

My friend is getting top surgery next month, I'm very glad that he's getting that weight off his chest. Since you've been through it all ready, could I ask for some advice on supporting him through the recovery process?

absolutely.

make sure he has someone/thing to reach the top shelf. he's not gonna be raising his arms above his shoulders for a while

make sure the pharmacy prescribing the pain meds understands that they're for treating the pain from the surgery, not for gender dysphoria. otherwise they simply will not give you pain meds. they may not even tell you that they have not given you pain meds. i recommend against finding this out the exciting way like i did (side note: surprisingly not that bad most of the time)

if it's the same for him as it was for me, he'll be on a 5 pound weight limit for three weeks, and then a 25 pound limit for another three weeks. this is going to affect more than anyone involved will realize. if he's gonna need to move anything heavy any time soon, he should do that before surgery

i had to switch to tylenol instead of ibuprofen a few weeks pre-surgery bc ibuprofen can increase risk of bleeding. if he's an ibuprofen guy, he may want to grab some tylenol just in case

i've heard different people have different experiences with the drains. for some people, that's the worst part. for me, it was pretty simple (although my mom handled most of the measuring). if you aren't going to be involved with keeping them clear/measuring the goop, try to remember to glance down every now and then just in case a cap was screwed on wrong and too much air got in there. probably not gonna be a medical emergency but you wanna keep an eye on them so they'll do their job.

does he have a ride to and from the hospital? this is a very important question bc if the answer is no, the surgery simply will not happen. they just won't do it.

what i got specifically was a double mastectomy with free nipple grafts. if he's getting the same, i cannot stress enough that the nipples will look weird for a while. this is probably nothing to worry about. they're supposed to do that. if he's still worried, he should check in with the surgeon or another qualified expert, but probably they'll just say "it's ok keep an eye on it and if it hasn't healed in [x amount of time] come back then"

he is going to be constantly reminding that all your bits and pieces are connected to one another. even the bits you aren't thinking about. it's gonna be weird.

if he has a dog, offer to walk the dog for him (or help him find someone else who can do it). dogs do not understand the importance of the surgery recovery process. don't let overly enthusiastic dogs happen to you (or in this case your friend)

get a spare binder. not the chest kind, the abdominal kind. you might wanna wash the first one (this will likely be provided by the hospital) and it's better to have two.

speaking of binders, at some point the bandages will come off. the binder will still be required (or, more accurately, highly recommended). this was, for me, Absolute Sensory Hell. i recommend you make sure he's got a few light, loose shirts he can wear under the binder just in case

this didn't end up being relevant to me, but my surgeon recommended my mom buy some puppy training pads in case of accidents (accidents is a word which usually implies pee, but here means bleeding. sometimes there be blood)

if he has cats, he's gonna need to be careful not to let them step on his chest. cats do not like being told where they can or can't step. i hope he has more willpower than i do

quite likely, he's already aware of a good chunk of this. your first step - and possibly only step - is to ask if there's anything he needs from you. if he's got things under control, have faith in him.

brace yourself for how happy he's gonna be once he sees himself topless after the drains come out and the bandages come off. i was pretty much bouncing over my reflection. the euphoria is real.

[mistydeyes]

I would love a mw2 pairing from you! i love your work sm!!!

appearance wise: I am 5’4, i am pale-ish, my hair is dark brown and wavy, it has a lot of volume from being frizzy + i have layers, and it’s armpit length. my eyes are dark brown as well and i have full eyebrows/lashes. I would definitely say i’m on the chubbier side, most noticeably in my round face, 🍒, and thighs. covered in quite a few scars but most of them are faint and only visible up close. in my day to day i wear small silver hoops almost always, and usually my clothes consist of bell bottom jeans and some sort of form fitting shirt / an oversized shirt or sweater and shorts + low top converse. also wear makeup almost daily, at least concealer for my chronic dark circles and some mascara and brow gel

personality wise: i do my best to come off as a understanding and open person to anyone, but i’m definitely very shy upon first meeting people, and (surprise surprise) can’t shut up when i get comfortable (this takes months). im always reserved in group settings, not good with public speaking, etc etc. i tend to have a drier sense of humor, most of the time if i make one of my loved ones laugh it’s due to my lack of reaction to something i or someone else did or said. when i do actually make a joke my sense of humor is a little on the darker side, no offense jokes at all, just shock humor. that and teasing for sure, playfully teasing is my fav. my love languages are verbal affirmation and quality time, im very intuitive and can pick up what people around me are feeling. i love taking care of other, i absolutely thrive when i’m nurturing my friends and family. i am known to be very clumsy and am constant covered in bruises from walking into walls/furniture (it’s half clumsiness and half being 🍃). also i am an avid user of 🍃!

interests and likes: video games (i play on pc and switch!), painting, drawing, and sculpting are my favorite hobbies! but when i’m not feeling up to them i like anime, makeup, fashion, just started getting into the gym, besides that physically speaking the only things that’ve interested me are volleyball and swimming. and i would also consider myself a sanrio enthusiast ^-^ i really enjoy cooking as well as baking and i research new recipes daily. also kinda of obsessed with mood boards (pinterest is everything to me), anything that let me express a niche aesthetic i have interest in. i enjoy reading tarot i have a decent crystal collection i keep on display. also a huge fan of candles, perfume, scented lotion, body spray, incense, anything really that smells fresh (inclshing just actual fresh air) point is, i love smelling good. bit of a skin care fanatic and have practically used my face as a lab rat for different chemicals. listen to music prosctially every hour of the day i love lana del rey, kali uchis, arctic monkeys, PTV, p!atd, slipknot, SOAD, fiona apple, cage the elephant, fleetwood mac, and the list goes on.

future aspirations: currently in my second year of community college but i’m basically just going to get into a white-collar desk job in fianance after getting my bachelor’s, i don’t have any passion for it but that doesn’t matter to me! money is money that feeds into real interests :) /gen

my type: i would say i’m a very open person, i don’t have a physical type but body wise i’d like my partner to be a little taller than me, either more extroverted than me, or capable of handling social situations that are too much for my anxiety. i am not the most outgoing so i couldn’t really get along with someone who wants to be out of the house constantly, my batteries NEED to recharge. other qualified i love are being complimented by my partner, being praised, info dumping + listening to them info dump!!! i love being spoiled + spoiling my partner in every way.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

How you met: Civilian Kyle never understood why the US Navy loved going to the beach. But after a successful mission with the Navy SEALs, he was invited to "train" with them on the beaches of California with a friendly volleyball competition. As he arrived at the beach in his swim trunks (ones that he had to buy because who would think they needed to bring one), he could see the net set up and a few patrons suntanning a good distance away. When the game first started, he had the unfortunate position of servicing the ball. He tried to do an underhand serve but it went flying across the beach and directly towards a young woman who was enjoying the summer sun. "Heads up!" he yelled but suddenly you caught the ball with record accuracy. Your silver hoops dangled as you rose from your towel and you could see a couple of the men motion for you to roll the ball over. You smirked as you palmed the ball in your hand and threw it up in the air, delivering a jump serve which hit the net with impressive force. Your actions received a few whistles and cheers and you smiled before going back to tanning and listening to your Fiona Apple album. After the match had ended, your sun was blocked by a young man who glistened with sweat in the heat. You lowered your glasses and struck up a friendly conversation. "That was impressive," he breathed out in a gorgeous accent, "you have to show me how to do that."

A peek into your relationship: "I still don't understand how you can do that," Kyle said as you laid on your couch, smoking a bowl. "You just have to grind it up, pack it, then you suck it like a strong and light until you see embers, and then you inhale," you replied before repeating your actions and blowing some smoke in his face. Kyle had been respectful of your habits and you entertained him as he couldn't risk a positive drug test. Besides, he enjoyed the company and your high thoughts. As he rubbed circles on your shoulder, you laid in his chest and mused about random thoughts. "Do you think that bees and butterflies are snobby about what flowers they pick? Like is it like when you go to a restaurant and you only like one type of food?" you asked and you could hear your boyfriend laugh wildly. "What goes on in that head of yours?" he replied and kissed your cheek gently. "Oh that reminds me there's some new summer perfumes from Sephora that are just calling to me!" you said excitedly before Kyle grabbed you and held you back in his arms. "Oh no you don't!" he exclaimed, "let's talk about perfume purchases when you're not thinking about the bees and butterflies."

[sebastianshaw]

For Fanfic Friday: Haven and Shaw at the Quiet Council, from recruitment to cancelling each others votes.

So I reeeeally wanted to do more of this, this was just meant to be the beginning, but it's as far as I got. I kept sitting on it planning to write more, but alas I've come to terms with the fact nothing more is gonna come. Thank you though I enjoyed this prompt! *** It was a long, long story of how Haven had come to be on the Quiet Council, one full of twists and turns and complications as only a comic book saga can be. Yes, she was human. Yes, many members had a problem with that. Much of the island had a problem with that. Haven herself had a problem with that, she didn’t think someone of the oppressor’s class should be governing a nation of the marginalized class, she found it obscene. Just, she couldn’t do anything about it. Neither could anyone else. Again, it’s a long complicated story, but the ending of it was, she’s locked into this role and if she’s ever ripped out of it, all of Krakoa goes down. She tried to just be a figurehead at first. Not say anything at meetings. Her voice should not be the one that mattered here. No matter how right she thought she was, no matter how disgusting suggestions made by certain other members might be, it didn’t matter. She must not speak over the mutants here, the actual people of this place. Besides, for every point raised that she found foul, someone else on the Council answered to shoot it down, so it wasn’t as if she could even claim her moral input was needed to prevent atrocities. And after all. . .who was she anymore to judge what was an atrocity? Who was she to cast judgement on— “Tell me something, Ms. Dastoor—why are you even here?” They were all departing a meeting, some of them chattering with one another, and some, like Haven, in silence, just as she had sat through it. The one who had spoken her name was Shaw, of the Spring Court, the Black King, standing with his hands in the pockets of a suit that cost more than most luxury automobiles. “I do apologize for my presence,” she said, turning her gaze towards him, “I know that any human, or anyone not a mutant, should not–” “I’ve heard this spiel before, it’s not an answer,” Shaw gruffly cut her off, “I mean, why bother being here if you’re not going to speak? Don’t give me that bullshit you always give the others. I’m not accusing you of lying, mind you; I believe that you believe it. It’s exactly the kind of oversensitive, namby-pamby, lickspittle self-flagellating identity politics I’d expect from you.” “Then you ask me questions, Mr. Shaw, to which you already know the answer. Why?” He looked disgruntled, a bit more so than usual, “I suppose I should be more direct—you seek not to offend, thus you do not speak in meetings. But in doing so, you offend me. I don’t give a shit about your opinions, but I find this performative penance for the accident of your species to be ridiculous and revolting. I don’t think you’re qualified to be here but half the mutants aren’t either! What the devil do Pryde, Rasputin, or that clown Wagner know about running a nation?! Doesn’t stop them from running their mouths! Hell, you’re probably MORE qualified than they are, at least you ran something before, even if it was a blasted doomsday cult! And those philanthropic organizations surely taught you SOMETHING about delegation, allocation, and diplomacy! You’re not helping us, Ms. Dastoor, you’re withholding input that, while I’m sure MOST of it is sentimental claptrap, might have the occasional bit of HELPFUL INSIGHT! All to play the part of the “good human” for your precious liberal senses. Absolutely ridiculous.” Haven started talking at meetings more after that. But only ever after Shaw did, to gracefully and diplomatically pick apart his every morally devoid capitalist pitch.

[crimsoncold]

Long post expanding on why I find it impossible to like/tolerate Rheanyra and why Daemon is absolutely horrible...

For me a significant amount of my issues/dislike of show!Rhaenyra stems from what she attempts to and believes she can/should get away with due to her extreme privilege - and the fact that apparently she is the only who deserves these privileges... not anyone else.

Rhaenyra deserves to be an heir as the firstborn child/her Father's chosen successor despite her gender...yet no other woman deserves this consideration.

She has no intent on making inheritance based on one's individual merit rather than their birth order (though if that was how she wanted to support her position...well she wouldn't exactly qualify as some obviously superior or more prepared choice... truly Targaryen's for the most part have not produced much in the way of competent heirs/rulers/spares).

She has no plans to make having the firstborn child be heir (regardless of gender) a new norm of westeros, adopting inheritance laws resembling that of Dorne for the other kingdoms or even just for the iron throne itself. In fact Rheanyra and her in laws are actively taking away such a right from a rightful female heir (Baela) to give it to an illegeitimate and entirely unrelated boy (Lucerys) in her place, and using a marriage between him and Baela's younger sister to bolster his precarious position.

Trying to reframe Rheanyra as some "feminist queen" bolstering the lives of her fellow women in the patriarchal cesspool that is westeros... well that can't even generously be referred to as a stretch, it's simply not accurate. She "deserves" to be heir because that's what her father declared... and no one should question or go against such a decision because it was made by a Targaryen King...and Targaryens are just soooo above everyone else.

Rheanyra also deserves to have children with a lover and get to pass them off unquestionably as her husband's children. Her illegitimate sons should get to be heirs of both her and her husband.

She doesn't intend to change laws so that an illegitimate child from a man or woman would be treated equal to any trueborn one. But maybe that is too dramatic a change to rightfully expect in westeros...yet she also doesn't intend to push for other (perhaps slightly more reasonable) changes in the treatment/status of Illegitimate children. She does not intend to push to change succession laws to make a lord/lady's illegitimate child the heir in the absence of trueborn children, putting them before more distantly related trueborn relatives in the line of succession.

With her choice to pass off obviously illegitimate kids as trueborn heirs (of a house they are related to and to another house where they have no blood ties) she isn't trying to push a moral stance nor does she plan or strategize a way to support her illegitimate sons via massive changes in policy. She has no plan in place to support her son's future rulership... feeling there doesn't even need to be one simply because she feels no one has the right to question her or her children.

Ultimately this is just an allowance that should be done only for her: crown princess and appointed heir to throne. Accept her stance on her son's legitimacy and support them and her without question. And if you speak against it you deserve to be intimidated into silence through threats of torture, to have your tongue ripped out, or simply to be put to death... even if you are related to her through blood or through marriage.

And perhaps most tragic and unforgivable is that Rheanyra's belief that she is untouchable and that she can and will get away with every questionable or precarious decision she makes serves not only to put herself in very real danger but also to put the lives of ALL of her beloved children in jeopardy as well.

She is declared her father's heir...a choice that already puts her in a very precarious situation...this is then compounded by her own decision to have multiple illegitimate kids, to lie (poorly) about their legitimacy, to declare them the heirs of both her husband and herself/the iron throne.

Rhaenyra in her very typical Targaryen conceit has followed in the footsteps of her father... and thus has chosen to willfully put her children (whom she sincerely loves) in immense danger. Most tragically her and Visery's poor decisions set up a crises that costs the lives of innocent children on both sides of the conflict as well as those of countless smallfolk.

While its true Viserys (absolute garbage human being) is responsible for much of the problems and strife his family faces it feels impossible not to also judge Rhaenyra for her recklessness and her poor decision making... and ultimately it is her actions and her hypocrisy that serves to make her unlikeable despite how hard showrunners are working to push a generally pro Rhaenyra/pro team black tone in the show.

And nothing the showrunners choose to alter/add to the plot will make me think well of Rhaenyra or Daemon

Including but not limited to their deliberate ridiculous whitewashing of team black with regards to B&C and their choice of framing/setting up Alicent to be somehow guilty/responsible for team black's actions (or for failing to stop it? or for not being there to suffer by witnessing it in person, idek?) because she made the horrendous hypocritical choice to- as a widow who no longer has a husband around to be "faithful" to, who has already produced multiple legitimate and now fully grown heirs- finally have a consensual romantic/sexual relationship for the first time in her life.

When it comes to Deamon my stance is relatively simpler and requires less careful analysis and consideration

he is quite plainly (in both book and show forms) a horrendous human being (one need only look at the atrocities he is responsible for in the war against the greens or prior to that his treatment of/behaviour around his very young niece and his previous wives)

Despite the show pushing for some "wife-guy" depiction of Daemon and trying to romanticize his grooming/relationship of his niece he remains clearly just truly a power hungry, violent, awful, and deeply creepy sort of person.

TLDR:

Despite the flattering head canon stans may buy into about Rhaenyra's choices, in reality they are stemmed from her belief that she is above the expectations/restrictions that the rest of (non Targaryen) society must adhere to.

She has no intent on making meaningful structural/policy changes even as a strategic move to support her decisions/heirs... and certainly there is no plan to give the same privileges or allowances to any other person. She has no intent of improving the lot of other women or illegitimate noble children, and no strategy to justify her actions/the controversial choices of her father

... simply because she is a Targaryen and that means (in her eyes) she is answerable to no one and she is entitled to allowances that no one else deserves. And perhaps most tragically this attitude and the choices it lead to (both Viserys' and Rheanyra's) cost not only her own life and those of her siblings but also those of her beloved children, innocent children on the opposite side of the war, and of countless smallfolk.

Daemon requires less scrutiny to come to an opinion on his character...quite simply he is an awful human being in both formats and is by far the worse member of team black.

I hate how the show is gonna make B&C kill Helaena and Aegon’s son as their own decision. And have Alicent have sex during it to somehow partly blame it on her. A little “haha, hypocrite” moment.

First off, I don’t give a shit who Rhaenyra fucks, and would never slutshame her, but other than that, placing her obvious bastards as heirs to other people’s lands and titles is some trifling fucking bullshit. No way that should just slide. And Rhaenyra had the audacity to be surprised when no one put up with her crap.

God, I wish the show runners would just show how fucking evil Daemon REALLY is. Show why people called him the second Maegor. But no!!! We need more Daemyra moments. We can’t have everyone hating on little miss “Daenerys” herself. And then they try to make her Visenya part 2 with that sword scene. Pls, that spoiled princess never picked up a sword in her life.

“Put the pen down dear, we both know you’re not writing anything.” God, I wish someone would verbally slap the audacity of her.

And I hate how people think Syrax even stands a chance against Vhagar. Are you talking about the same Syrax who doesn’t even fly in the rain? Come on.

Oh, and I can’t stand Rhaenys either. The whole window thing just made me want to eat my shit. Girl, all you do all day is wait for your husband’s orders and you didn’t even try fighting for your throne. And don’t you dare try to take the moral high ground cause I sure as hell remember you trying to pimp out little Laena to your crusty cousin.

God, I wish they would just show how childish Rhaenyra (maybe that’s why lord fleebottom likes her so much) and Daemon are. God, just show us who they REALLY are.

[positively--speculative]

It's funny because I wrote a post saying that I was going to write a criticism for Lindsay Ellis AND reblogged someone else's criticism and immediately lost two followers. It's assumed by some of her biggest fans that if you're going to criticize her, you must just have a mean streak in you or just hopping on the bandwagon of cancel culture. It's like, you can criticize anyone you want, but don't you DARE criticize Lindsay Ellis.

And the funny thing is that I used to be a fan of hers. I was introduced to her in my college years when I was really learning how to consume media critically. She was also one of the first people I saw on YouTube talk about the importance of representation, including the representation of women of color. I don't think everyone on Tumblr is old enough to remember this, but the internet was even trashier than it is today. It was absolutely plagued with racism and misogyny, and even though there is still a lot of that today, there are a growing number of people now who speak out against it. People of color and other marginalized groups have created our own spaces online to discuss this problem as well. There really wasn't much of that back in the day. From the 2000s through the mid-2010s, these subjects were a punchline, and god forbid you expressed your offense because if you did, you became the new punchline. It should be no surprise that I actually liked Lindsay Ellis in the beginning.

I am sometimes reminded of something I saw someone write about Joss Whedon--He was the McDonald's dollar menu of feminism. He's the kind of feminism you get when you are short on cash and there are little to no other offerings around, so you consume it because it's all that's available to you. I think I could say the same thing about Lindsay. In the trashiest era of the internet, she was the dollar menu of safe spaces for marginalized individuals.

However, as my own critical thinking skills continued to develop, I found myself watching her less and less, and when I did go back to her ever so often, I found that some of her takes were pretty iffy, at best, especially when addressing issues that were not a part of her experiences as a white woman. I was bothered by her criticism of The Craft when she stated that the kind of racism Rochelle experienced is not the kind of racism Black people face in Southern California. That was something I did not believe she was qualified to conclude. However, it was not (personally) enough for me to write her off completely.

My dislike for her really started around the time she made the apology video to Stephanie Meyer. Admittedly, I at first didn't think it was too bad a take, but then when I saw the way she responded to Native people pointing out that she excluded the criticisms on the series's anti-Native racism, I began to feel like her progressiveness was more performative than anything else.

Now, this is the part of my criticisms that usually gets an eye roll from people, but I really started to see how mean-spirited she could be when it came to criticizing Zack Snyder. She had responded to a friend of hers by making a joke that Zack Snyder hated his mother. A few fans rightfully pointed out to her that his mother had actually died due to a battle lost to cancer. Shortly after she made this joke, he revealed that his daughter tragically took her own life and that he would no longer be involved with DCEU projects. Now, to be fair, Lindsay DID apologize, but only after selectively choosing the most unhinged responses she got from her joke, generalizing fans of the DCEU to be 'straight white boys,' ignoring criticisms from both men and women of color, and brushed her actions off as "just a joke." This was enough for me to have bad feelings about her. Making a joke in bad taste could be classified as a slip-up that might be forgiven and forgotten by many after a simple apology, but her handling of criticism and the amount of time that it took to apologize was....really something for me.

I think some people who have argued with me in the past year about her are under the impression that her Raya comments are the sole reason I have added my own criticisms to the pile. In fact, I had one stan of hers search through my tags to see how many times I tagged "Stop Asian Hate" to prove that it was a subject I really didn't care about (because, you know, the search function on Tumblr is flawless and the only way to show you care about an issue is to ALWAYS tag your posts having to do with the matter/s). But the truth of the matter is, she was on thin ice (at best) for a lot of marginalized people before this happened. It was also a little ironic to me that Lindsay Ellis's traumatic experience is often highlighted as a defense for her actions, but days after blocking the person who trolled through my tags, one of THEIR followers found a post about my own traumatic experience being the victim stalking (which was partly the reason I had to move) that had nothing to do with my criticisms of Lindsay and suggested that I deserved it. I also have yet to see a single Lindsay fan mention what Jourdain Searles has said about Lindsay, and it's strange how a lot of you will say "believe all victims," but ignore what this woman has said about her experiences with her (and if you didn't see it, I have it linked for you).

And in all of my criticisms, I don't believe I brought up her trauma and what she must go through due to said trauma. Obviously, some people probably have probably used her trauma against her, which I don't agree with, but her critics, like myself, who have stuck to the things she has said and the wrong she has done have no control over this just as she has no control over the two individuals I mentioned (one who was a white guy trying to tell me the right way to address racism).

I am also bothered by the fact that she threw Britney Spears's name in there as if the two situations have anything in common. Britney Spears is an accomplished artist and well-known all around the world, not a YouTube critic. Eyes were on her at all times (even when she was a minor) and the press was constantly making unfair judgments that led her to being imprisoned in a conservatorship for thirteen years. Lindsay Ellis, no doubt, has a strong following, but to put herself up there with the likes of Britney Spears and compare the treatment they received is weird. Britney was infantilized and made out to be a monster for the silliest of things and for retaliating against her abusers. Lindsay was criticized for tone-deaf comments, poor takes, and for offensive jokes. The two of them are not the same.

I think from this whole thing, what bothers me most is that most of the criticisms I see of her come from women of color, and the actions of her most loyal fans to me suggest that they look at her as the absolute authority on subjects that affect us and other marginalized individuals and will view us as 'bullies' no matter what we say on the matter.

And look, Lindsay is free to do whatever she wants and so are her fans. I tried to make this post as level-headed as possible. If you're a fan of hers, take it as you will.

[medowlarken]

in a shed behind the barn  

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Marco Bott

Tags: 18+, underaged drinking and sexual content, making out, hickies, handjobs, semi-public, background Eren x Armin, minor Jean x oc, teenage tomfoolery

Words: 6k // ao3 link

Jean chewed on his lower lip. Maybe it was the booze talking, or maybe their looming graduation was making him feel brave. “I could give you one,” he said before he could change his mind. “If— if you wanted me to.”

---

Jean scores a hickey and Marco offers to match.

Because solidarity. Or something.

A/N: I’ve never posted smut before so here goes nothing. This takes place in the same AU as dmas but you absolutely do not have to read that first. It'd be nice if you did, though :) 

Also please mind the tags-- teens do be horny. 

The fibers of his shirt caught on the rough wood of the wall as he leaned against it, staring up at the night sky through a hole in the ceiling.

Jean sighed. It was late— although his booze-soaked mind didn’t know the exact time— and the stars were out in full force. The abandoned shack smelled like damp and old grain, completely at odds with the music and laughter that drifted from the nearby barn.

The party was in full swing— yet here he was, moping around in a gross shed like some kind of loser. Jean sighed again, heavier this time, and scuffed his shoe against the packed dirt floor.

After three years of grueling training they’d finally made it— he’d finally made it, breaking into the top ten and qualifying for the Military Police. The official ceremony wouldn’t take place for another two days. As per tradition, their unofficial send-off involved less structure and more beer kegs— a generous donation courtesy of some graduated seniors. A secret fundraiser put together by Mina and Hannah had raised enough money to bribe a local farmer into renting out his barn for the night. The brass knew about it, of course, but turned a blind eye on the condition the cadets not get too carried away. Shadis had made it clear that hangovers wouldn’t be a valid excuse for missing their last day of training.

The night had started out fine. Some of the girls had formed a ‘party committee’ and taken it upon themselves to clean the dusty barn up. The result was fairly decent— hay bales served as makeshift seating and the loft had been cleared for amateur music performances. An impromptu dance floor took up most of the space.

Dancing wasn’t really Jean’s thing, but he’d still found himself tapping his foot along to the bright tune of the fiddle, watching his classmates tear it up with varying degrees of competence. Connie had made it his personal mission to spin around enough to make himself sick, Sasha cheering him on and sloshing beer all over herself and any unfortunate bystanders. A drunk Reiner had dragged anyone within arms reach out to do some kind of odd square dance. Bertolt was more often than not his unwilling victim, but others had included a few girls Jean didn’t know the names of and, hilariously, a beet-red Armin. Jean had nearly pissed himself watching Reiner throw the smaller boy around like a rag doll— until Mikasa stepped in to save him, much to his obvious relief.

To the surprise of no one, Krista was a great dancer. She’d floated around the dance floor with ease, prompting a few of the guys to try to approach and ask her to dance. Try being the operative word— Ymir had made short work of anyone stupid enough to even think about hitting on the blonde. Jean really thought she was going to finally murder Reiner. She’d even thrown a deadly glare Jean’s way when she’d caught him gazing at Krista’s hips a little too closely. Which was ridiculous— it wasn’t his fault she could move them so well. He’d complained about it to Marco as they’d lounged on one of the hay bales, words slurring together more and more as their tankards got lighter.

Speak of the devil.

“Rough night?”

Jean startled hard, heart leaping into his throat. “Shit— Marco? What the hell!”

Marco stood in the shed’s doorway. The soft glow of the moon illuminated his face enough for Jean to make out his sheepish smile. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. Can I come in?”

Jean grunted, heart rate settling back down to normal. “Of course you can. It’s not like I live here.” He watched Marco settle against the opposite wall and eyed his disheveled clothing. “What are you doing out here, anyway? Did the party committee get bored with you?”

The committee girls had claimed Marco as their dancing partner pretty early on in the night. Jean could understand why— not only was he coordinated, he was also a perfect gentleman, always keeping his hands on their waists in a respectful fashion. But he also had trouble saying no, which had resulted in him getting passed around the group of giggling, increasingly drunk girls for the better part of two hours. Jean couldn’t stop the pangs of jealousy that had ate away at him as he’d watched them, nursing his tankard from his place on the sidelines.

Marco chuckled and ran a hair through his hair, which stuck up a bit with sweat. “I was getting tired so they let me take a break.”

The corners of Jean’s mouth twitched. “Had enough of beating the women off with a stick, eh? That’s rough, Bott.”

Marco rolled his eyes but a blush still spread up his cheeks, swallowing his freckles. “Stop it, Jean. You know it’s not like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jean answered, still smiling at his friend’s embarrassment.

It’d been about four months into their training—and friendship—when Marco had let slip he wasn’t interested in girls. The boy had been mortified, obviously worried it’d change how Jean saw him. But Jean couldn’t care less. In fact, he’d answered with a confession of his own— that as long as he could remember, he had never really cared about stuff like gender. Or as he’d eloquently stated, ass was ass, which had sent Marco into a violent, but relieved, coughing fit.

Marco hadn’t come all the way there to discuss their sexual preferences, though. He scratched the side of his nose and spoke carefully. “I, uh, saw Mary come back into the barn.”

The smile slid right off Jean’s face. He scowled and kicked a pebble across the dirt floor. “Is Mary her name? I didn’t catch it.”

“Jean,” Marco said, disapproval clear in his voice, “she sounded pretty upset. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“I’m fine,” Jean replied stubbornly. He felt Marco’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his face but refused to meet them. “Really, Marco. It’s nothing. Just a stupid misunderstanding.”

“She said you told her that her pussy was broken,” Marco said flatly.

“Well maybe it is!”

“Jean—“

Jean groaned and tilted his face up towards the ceiling. The stars twinkled down through the hole like they were mocking him.

It’d been a low blow—even he could admit that—but it wasn’t like that Mary girl had been  a saint, either.

He’d been watching Reiner spin Bertolt around on the dance floor when Mary had approached him with an extra tankard in hand, which he’d gladly accepted. She was cute— sporting a long, dark braid that showed off her pretty neck and exposed shoulders. Their conversation was fairly mundane, not having really interacted over the course of their training, but the look in her eye had told him that she hadn’t come over just to chat. They’d both been more than tipsy when she’d gripped his knee and put her lips to his ear.

Jean scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d sobered up quite a bit since then, but not completely. Just enough to feel the sting of shame.

“…is she alright?” he finally muttered, gaining the courage to look at Marco directly.

Marco hummed and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “Yeah, I think she’s more pissed off than anything. She was calling you all kinds of names when I passed by.”

“Great. Well, I hope they were more creative than horseface, at least.”

“Oh, don’t worry. They were.” Marco’s expression softened and he nudged Jean’s foot with his own. “Do you want to talk about it?”

No, was Jean’s automatic response, for a variety of reasons. It was embarrassing, first of all. No one liked being told they were incompetent, but the sexual context made all the more humiliating.

But even more than that, he didn’t want Marco to be disappointed in him.

“Fine,” he conceded, jabbing a finger in his friend’s direction, “but you have to promise not to judge me.”

“I never judge you, Jean,” Marco said sincerely, but laughed and held his hands up at Jean’s answering scowl. “Ok, ok, maybe I judge a little sometimes. But I swear I won’t mock you for it.”

Jean knew he was being genuine— the kid was so fucking earnest that it was almost stupid. The moonlight reflected off his big brown eyes in a way that made something in Jean’s chest squirm.

He squashed the feeling. Instead, he focused on recalling the previous events of the night.

Mary had dragged him out of the barn by the hand and he’d stumbled after her, grinning like a cat that got the cream. And why wouldn’t he? She was hot and he was more than willing to humor her. He’d even caught Jaeger’s eye on their way out—chatting with Mikasa in the corner like an asshole—and flipped him the bird. His ensuing squawk of outrage had been music to Jean’s ears.

Marco’s disapproval was palatable but he didn’t interrupt. He simply sighed and nodded at Jean to continue.

Jean hadn’t noticed the shack when they’d first arrived at the barn, but Mary obviously had— she wasted no time pulling him through the threshold and pressing her lips to his.

It’d taken him off guard. He thought they were going to chat some more first, at the very least. But he was in no way complaining— he’d wrapped his arms around her waist and slotted their mouths together more firmly, getting lost in the sensation of it.

Of course he’d kissed someone before, but not like that. All his drunk lizard brain could focus on was the press of her breasts against his chest and her hot tongue curling into his mouth. Stale beer taste aside, she’d felt good.

Marco coughed and shifted from foot to foot a bit, drawing Jean back to the present. The blush that’d stained his cheeks before had nothing on the one overtaking his face now— even in the half-light Jean could see how red he was.

It wasn’t a surprise. Marco had always been a bit of a prude. Late night barracks chats about girls—and sometimes other boys—had usually ended with him holding his face in his hands while the rest of them tried to out-sex each other. It was mostly bullshit, anyway. The commandment usually did a good job in keeping their teenage hormones in check.

But not always, like the night Connie had accidentally walked in on Eren and Armin in one of the shower stalls. The little shit was too descriptive for his own good— Jean was still traumatized by the images his mind had conjured up. At least the gossip hadn’t lasted long— Mikasa had been waiting for Connie after breakfast the next morning, and that was the last anyone spoke of it.

“Ah, too much?” Jean asked, holding back a laugh.

“It’s not that,” Marco mumbled, “I just don’t think Mary would appreciate you telling me all the, uh, details. That’s private.”

“Hm, alright,” Jean conceded. He wasn’t wasn’t going to argue. It was a good point.

He told the rest of the story without going into any unnecessarily sordid specifics: things had gotten hot and heavy, and before he knew it Jean had found himself with his hand down the front of Mary’s pants while she bit at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He hadn’t been entirely sure where to go from there— the only knowledge he’d had was secondhand bullshit from their classmates. After some prodding and awkward half-suggestions from Mary, she’d finally tugged on his wrist and made a bad joke about his ODM skills not being transferable to the current situation.

It was a dumb, half-serious jab that he’d usually brush off. But the alcohol and fresh sting of rejection had left Jean feeling pretty vulnerable, so naturally, he’d gotten defensive. From there it devolved into a snippy back-and-forth that ended with Mary fleeing the scene, leaving Jean sulking in a smelly shed, alone and half-hard.

“Wow,” Marco said once Jean had finished. “That was… quite the story.”

“Oi, you promised not to make fun of me,” Jean groused, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Now it was his turn to flush.

“I’m not,” Marco reassured him. He pushed off the wall and came to stand in front of Jean, tugging on his arms until they hung loose at his sides. “Being embarrassed is understandable, but your reaction was still uncalled for. You should apologize to Mary.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jean muttered. Marco raised an eyebrow and he rolled his eyes in response. “I will! Just probably not tonight. It sounds like she’d rather not talk to me for a while.”

Marco nodded and smiled, squeezing Jean’s wrists where his hands had slid down to encircle them. Now that he was closer, Jean could make out the hazy gleam in his eyes— not drunk, but tipsy enough to melt away some of his usual inhibitions.

Who knew Marco was so touchy when he drank? Certainly not Jean, who stiffened a bit when the other boy traced a spot on his neck with his finger.

“I was wondering what this was from,” Marco murmured, almost to himself, “I was worried she’d actually hit you.”

Jean tched but the sound didn’t have the usual heat behind it. His eyes lingered on Marco’s face, tracing the slope of his nose and the curve of his cupid’s bow in the moonlight.

Jean wasn’t blind— he knew Marco was handsome. And he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about him in that way before, because he’d definitely had. Especially in the past year or so, when Jean’s obsession with Mikasa had finally started to wane and his fantasies had taken on more variety. It was embarrassing to admit how many times he’d found himself in the barrack showers with his dick in his hand, thinking about freckled shoulders and strong thighs.

But none of that mattered, because Marco was his friend. Just because he was into guys didn’t mean he was interested in Jean, too. And he’d rather get crunched by a titan than ruin their friendship like that.

But damn did Marco make it hard sometimes— like now, running his fingers along the side of Jean’s neck like he was made of glass, eyes soft and full of an emotion Jean couldn’t quite identify. Whatever it was, it had an edge of hunger to it.

Jean swallowed. He was going to get hard again. How pathetic.

The movement of his throat snapped Marco out of whatever spell he’d fallen under, because he was quick to pull his hand back. “S-sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jean replied, brushing off the warm feeling that had bloomed in his chest. He brought his own hand up to his neck and pressed down on the spot, wincing at the slight throb of pain it brought. “Ugh. Now I’m going to have a fuckin’ hickey at the graduation ceremony.”

He grimaced. If any of the others saw they’d never let him live it down.

“It’s not that bad,” Marco tried to reassure him.

“Don’t lie to me. You could see it from the other side of the shed, Marco.”

“Only because I knew to look for it. Besides, I doubt you’ll be the only one to come out of tonight unscathed. Franz and Hannah snuck off nearly a hour ago.”

Jean’s face twisted into a mask of disgust, which made Marco laugh. The sound was loud and bright in the cool night air.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Third-wheeling the married couple is even worse!” Jean groaned. “Especially when it’s just me.”

“Well, maybe someone else will be just as unlucky and you can match.”

Jean guffawed. “Like who? Krista? Armin?”

“I’ll match with you.”

Whatever witty comeback Jean had prepared died in his throat. He blinked at Marco, who, for whatever reason, looked just as stunned as he did.

“…what do you mean by that?” Jean finally managed to choke out.

“I— Well, I just thought,” Marco stuttered, tripping over his words, “maybe if I also had a hickey it’d be less embarrassing for you? Like solidarity. Or something.”

“Solidarity,” Jean echoed back. He cast a quick glance at the sides of Marco’s neck. “You don’t have any hickies, though.”

Marco laughed again but it sounded oddly strained. He scratched at the skin Jean’s eyes had settled on. “Right, that was dumb of me. I mean, I guess I could go get some…?”

Jean chewed on his lower lip. Maybe it was the booze talking, or maybe their looming graduation was making him feel brave. Either way, he decided to go for it— the worst that could happen was Marco saying no.

“I could give you one,” Jean said before he could change his mind. “If— if you wanted me to.”

Marco stared at him. He opened his mouth just to close it again.

A bolt of nerves shot up Jean’s spine that made the nape of his neck burn. Had he crossed the line? Shit, maybe— Marco still hadn’t moved a muscle.

Jean was just about to try and laugh the whole thing off when Marco finally spoke.

“…for solidarity?” he asked softly.

Somewhere outside the shed a cricket started chirping. Jean barely registered it over his own pounding heartbeat.

“Yeah. For solidarity.” His voice was little more than a whisper.

Marco smiled—sweet and shy—and that warm, squirmy feeling hit Jean with a vengeance. He really, really hoped he wasn’t dreaming.

“Alright,” Marco whispered back, “um, how should we do this?” He looked around the shed, unsure, before turning back to Jean.

“Right. Uh, here,” Jean said. He guided Marco by the shoulders until his back pressed against the opposite wall. “Just relax. If it starts to hurt just slap the back of my head or something.”

“Ok,” Marco said, a small, fond grin playing on his lips at Jean’s crassness.

Jean grunted and turned his attention to the freckled slope of Marco’s neck. Even though they were roughly the same height—give or take an inch—Marco was definitely more solidly build than Jean was. His shoulders were broad under Jean’s hands and his neck was thick with muscle. Jean’s eyes followed the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

“Ok,” he breathed. He briefly met Marco’s gaze, searching for any discomfort or hesitation, before finally leaning down and pressing his lips to skin.

It was chaste—Jean wouldn’t even count it as a kiss—but it still made his whole mouth tingle. Marco stiffened at the contact before relaxing again, letting out the tinniest of sighs. Jean took it as a good sign, but still pulled back enough so that he could speak.

“Still alright?” he asked, lips brushing against skin.

Marco hummed. “Yeah. Keep going.”

He didn’t have to tell Jean twice— he pressed his mouth to Marco’s neck more firmly, right where it met his shoulder. The taste of salt hit his tongue, tangy sweat from dancing plus something else— something almost bitter that Jean couldn’t place. Soap? Cologne? Whatever it was he wanted more of it, removing his mouth with a little smack before diving right back in.

Jean was vaguely aware of Marco’s hand fisting the back of his shirt as he continued mouthing up his neck, leaving behind a trail of saliva that, typically, he’d be more self-conscious about. Not now though— not with the thrum of Marco’s pulse under his tongue and the soft, barely there gasps he could hear escaping his mouth. He smelled good too, like fresh hay and the detergent they used for laundry. A particularly hard suck made Marco squirm and let out a groan that went straight to Jean’s cock.

Yep, he was definitely getting hard again. 

It wasn’t until he began nibbling at the shell of his ear that Marco spoke up.

“Jean,” he gasped, “h-hey, Jean.”

“Mmph,” Jean replied around the skin beneath his lips. He didn’t want to pull back, not when he’d just found a very interesting spot behind Marco’s ear.

Marco struggled to get the words out, sending another thrill down Jean’s spine. “Did you— ah, d-did you do the hickey yet?”

Oh yeah.

Jean pulled back slightly and scanned Marco’s neck. The moonlight reflected off his skin, still damp from Jean’s mouth, but besides some redness there weren’t any actual bruises.

“Not yet,” Jean panted, “here, let me—“

He returned to the intersection of Marco’s neck and shoulder and bit down, hard. Marco yelped, and the sound might have been funny if it didn’t dissolve into the hottest moan Jean had ever heard. He worried the patch of skin between his lips and teeth, making sure that it would leave a mark. He had to hold Marco in place by his arms— the boy squirmed at the feeling, which caused his thigh to brush against the front of Jean’s pants. Now it was Jean’s turn to let out a muffled groan, shifting his hips forward in an unconscious effort to chase the sensation.

With a final soothing lick, Jean pulled back to admire his handiwork. The bruise was already fading to purple, swallowing up the freckles that dusted the skin there.

“There,” Jean croaked, “now we match.”

He straightened up to face Marco properly, but was wholly unprepared by the sight he was met with. Marco was, in short, a mess— eyes glazed over, flush threatening to overtake his face as he leaned against the rotting shed wall. He was panting like he’d just ran a marathon. The starlight filtering in through the busted ceiling reflected off his black hair, making him glow silver.

He was beautiful.

“Um,” Jean said intelligently. He was rooted in place, unable to look away. Every fantasy he’d had about the boy in front of him couldn’t compare to the real thing. “That was…yeah.”

“Yeah,” Marco echoed back, swallowing hard. He prodded at the fresh hickey on his neck, eyes darting between Jean’s eyes and lips.

A sudden tension filled the shed. But before Jean could overthink himself into a panic, Marco cleared his throat.

“You know, Jean,” he said, “I think yours might be lighter than mine.” 

“Huh?” Jean replied dumbly. He watched Marco push off the wall and step closer, getting into his personal space. This close, he could count each individual eyelash on his waterline.

“It’s lighter,” Marco repeated. He gently cupped the side of Jean’s neck and licked his lips. “I could, uh, darken it for you. So that we really match.”

“Oh.” Jean was hyper-focused on the way Marco’s tongue dampened his lips. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”

“Cool,” Marco breathed, then used his grip on Jean neck to smash their mouths together in a desperate kiss.

Jean gasped into Marco’s mouth. He was taken off guard by the other’s boldness, but he quickly recovered and leaned into the kiss more firmly. It was uncoordinated and messy, with too much teeth and bumping noses, and Jean wouldn’t have it any other way.

He was kissing Marco—earnest, brave, selfless Marco—and he was kissing him back, tangling a hand in Jean’s hair and tugging on the strands. Jean stumbled backwards until his back hit the opposite wall with a thud, pulling Marco closer by the front of his shirt. He slotted their mouth together so he could flick his tongue over Marco’s lower lip, earning him a sigh that made his scalp prickle. Marco took the hint and opened his mouth just enough for Jean’s tongue to curl inside, brushing against his own tongue and teeth. He tasted like the beer they’d both been drinking and sin— Jean groaned and wrapped his arms around Marco’s neck, trying to drag him even closer.

Marco went willingly, letting Jean maneuver them both until their fronts were pressed together. He gripped Jean’s waist with both hands and squeezed, causing Jean to roll his hips against the top of his thigh. Bad move— his clothed erection dragged on the muscle there, and Jean pulled back from Marco’s mouth with a wet pop, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out. 

Fuck, that felt good. 

Marco must have noticed too, because he stared down at the where Jean’s dick strained against his trousers with hazy eyes.

Jean flushed. “Sorry.” He went to make more space between them, but Marco’s grip on his hips didn’t let him get very far.

“Don’t be sorry,” Marco chastised him gently, voice still raw with need. “I, uh, I also…” He trailed off and Jean followed his gaze to where his own trousers tented.

Jean swallowed. Oh.

All pretense of hickey solidarity had dissolved the moment he’d sucked Marco’s tongue into his mouth. And whatever hangups Jean had about ruining their friendship had gone with it— it was safe to say that Marco saw him in that way, too. To what extent he didn’t know, but Jean decided to throw all caution to the wind and let the warm, squirmy feeling in his chest take over.

“Do you want help with that?” he asked lowly, not taking his eye’s off Marco’s face. He slid his hand down Marco’s stomach until the tips of his fingers brushed his waistband, just to punctuate the offer.

If Marco’s face got any redder he might actually pass out. “Ah,” he stuttered, blinking down at Jean’s hand. “I mean, um, it’s not that I don’t want to—because I do—it’s just, well, this is all so sudden, and we’re in a shed, and I’ve never—“

“Hey,” Jean said gently. He removed his hand and cupped Marco’s face instead, forcing him to make eye contact. “That’s alright. There’s no rush— just tell me what you want to do. Or not do. We can go back inside if you want.”

A cool breeze lifted their hair as they peered at one another, both suddenly a bit bashful. A part of Jean was secretly relieved at Marco’s hesitation— he’d already been burned once tonight for a subpar performance. Adding a failed handjob to that might actually make him collapse into himself in shame.

Marco hummed, flush sitting pretty on his cheeks, and wrapped his fingers around Jean’s wrist. He rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand. “I don’t want to go back inside.”

“Alright.”

They stood like that for a moment, just breathing in the each others’ air. Shouting and badly played guitar music floated into the shed on the breeze, but Jean felt like they were a million miles away from it all— wrapped up in their own little world, the smell of wood rot and Marco’s warm breath puffing against his face.

It was nice. More than nice, actually— Jean figured he could live happily in that moment forever.

Marco broke the silence first. “Jean,” he whispered.

“Hm?” Jean’s eyes fluttered open—he hadn’t realized he’d closed them—and found Marco peeking at him through his eyelashes.

“Feel free to say no, but there’s something I do want to try. If that’s alright.”

“Sure.” Jean watched him chew on his lip with renewed interest, rekindling the embers in his lower belly. “What is it?”

Marco hesitated, like he was having trouble forcing out the words he wanted to say. A deep crease formed between his brows. It was terribly endearing.

Jean grinned and tried to smooth it out with his thumb. “Cat got your tongue, Bott? Don’t hurt yourself.”

Something flashed in Marco’s eyes, too quick for Jean to catch, and he blew a frustrated snort out of his nose. Jean was about to tease him further but never got the chance— instead choking on his own tongue when Marco slid his hand down to cup him through his trousers.

Oh, shit.

“This,” Marco said, punctuating his words with a slight squeeze, “is what I want to do. To you. If that’s still ok.”

Marco might have reservations about whipping his dick out in an old shed, but Jean most certainly did not.

“Yeah, uh,” he squeaked, voice jumping an octave, “I could get behind that.”

“You have to tell me if I’m doing it wrong though. Or else I might think your dick is broken.”

Jean aimed a weak punch at Marco’s side, causing the other boy to chuckle. “Shut up,” he groused, “that was different. Girls are hard, ok?”

“Actually, Jean, I’m pretty sure you’re the hard one here.”

“Hilarious. You’re a real comedian. Now can you get on with it already?”

Marco hummed and squeezed him lightly again, dragging his hand up and down. “Like that?”

“Yeah,” Jean grunted. “Maybe a little harder— yeah, that’s it.”

His vision went a bit blurry watching Marco stroke him through his trousers, not even minding the dry drag of the material. It felt good— even better than when he did it himself. Soon, little gasps were escaping his mouth in time with the movement of Marco’s hand, especially when his thumb would swipe over the head. Marco watched his expression carefully, chewing on his bottom lip in a way that drove Jean mad.

After a few minutes, Marco’s other hand snuck down and undid his fly. Jean got the hint and, together, they pulled on the material until his dick sprang free.

A sudden wave of self-consciousness washed over him. Sure, they’d seen each other naked before— barrack life didn’t afford much privacy. But this was different.

Fortunately the feeling was short lived— Marco let out a sigh and wrapped his warm hand around Jean’s cock, causing him to hiss at the sensation.

“You’re so pretty, Jean,” he murmured. He pulled back the foreskin and a thick drop of precum beaded at the tip, allowing his hand to glide more smoothly. “I like you a lot, you know. I have for a while.”

“Ngh,” Jean gritted out.

It was too much—the slight drag of Marco’s callouses, the soft reverence in his voice, the hunger in his eyes—fuck, his eyes. It was like he saw a part of him that even Jean didn’t know about—like he could see something he couldn’t.

Jean grabbed a handful of Marco’s hair and used it to pull him in for a kiss, wasting no time in dragging his tongue along the roof of his mouth. Marco’s hand picked up its pace, pumping him faster, and Jean turned his head to moan against the apple of his cheek.

“Fuck, Marco,” he hissed, craning his neck when Marco mouthed over his jaw and down his throat. “’S good— you’re so good, l-like you too, shit—“

Marco’s response was muffled against the crook of his neck. He latched onto a patch of flesh there and sucked hard— Jean’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his skull at the feeling. He knew he was babbling nonsense at that point, but he couldn’t stop even if he tried. He started thrusting up in time with Marco’s strokes, trying to chase the peak that was fast approaching.

“Fuck!” he cursed loudly. The back of his head hit the wall behind him with a solid thunk— Marco huffed against his shoulder before shifting to moan in his ear.

“Are you close?” he panted, pulling Jean’s earlobe between his lips.

“Yes, s-so close, ngh, keep going,” Jean pleaded into the cool night air. Above him, the moon, stars, and rotted ceiling swirled together as his eyes filled with tears— he was so close, nearly there, just one more flick of Marco’s wrist and he was going to—

“Oh!”

It was like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water down his back.

But being proper soldiers, their reaction times were quick— Jean fumbled to cover himself while Marco scrambled away from him, turning to face the intruder in a shaky battle stance.

It took Jean’s brain a moment to process what he was seeing. But when he finally did, he really, really wished he hadn’t.

Mikasa stood frozen in the doorway. Her usually stoic expression was overtaken by shock, eyes as big as dinner plates as she stared at the two of them.

Jean wanted to die.

“M-Mikasa!” Marco stuttered, voice shot through with forced cheeriness. “We didn’t see you there! Do you need something?” Jean didn’t need to see his face to know there was a fake smile plastered on it.

Mikasa blinked before coming back to herself. Her head snapped up to face forward, eyes glued on a spot somewhere behind Marco’s head. Maybe it was a trick of the moonlight, but Jean swore her entire body turned the same shade of red as her scarf.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, clearing her throat. “Eren and Armin disappeared a while ago, and I thought I heard—“ Her eyes darted briefly in Jean’s direction before returning to a spot on the wall. “Um. Have you seen them?”

Marco laughed, the sound unnaturally high pitched, and scratched the back of his head. “Can’t say I have. Maybe they went back to the barracks?”

“Yes. Maybe.” She coughed, still refusing to make eye contact. “Anyway, I... have to go. Bye.” And with that she practically sprinted off, not even sticking around to hear Marco’s weak see you later. 

Stunned silence filled the shed. You could hear a pin drop— not even the crickets dared chirp as both boys tried to process what just happened.

“Well,” Marco said after a moment, “that was… unexpected. But it could have been worse. If it’d been Connie or Ymir I’d really be— Jean?”

Jean had fallen to his knees on the dirt floor. Hair a mess and trousers still unbuttoned, he continued to stare at the empty door frame. “Marco,” he whispered in horror. “Did that really just happen?”

There was no way— no fucking way that that Mikasa Ackerman had been standing there just moments ago. Because if she had, then that meant two things: that she had probably seen Jean’s erection, and that she had heard him moan.

She had heard him moan and thought he was Eren.

Jean held his face in his hands and groaned in agony. Forget the hickey— this was so much worse.

He heard shuffling and his hands were gently pried from his face. He blinked up at Marco, who’d knelt down with him.

“Afraid so,” he said, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a half smile. “But Mikasa’s not the kind of person to spread rumors. I doubt she’ll say anything.”

It was true, but it still did little to quell the pure mortification that was pumping through his veins. Marco stood up and offered a hand, which Jean took. He dusted the dirt off his knees and buttoned his fly up— at least his boner was gone.

“Tonight has been weird,” he complained aloud. He was basically sober at that point and fatigue was starting to set in. “I think I’m going to head back.”

“Hm,” Marco agreed, doing his best to smooth down his tousled hair. He looked at Jean out of the corner of his eye. “Bad weird?”

Jean scoffed. He reached up and fixed the collar of Marco’s shirt, poking at the purple bruise that just peeked above it. “Not all of it.”

Marco beamed at him, and Jean’s stomach did a little somersault. Maybe all the humiliation had been worth it. 

“C’mon,” he said, pulling on Marco’s hand. “I want to make sure Jaeger isn’t fucking on my bed. I sleep there.”

Marco’s laugh joined the sound of the crickets and distant drunken revelry as Jean dragged him towards the road.

They’d have to talk about it at some point—what had changed between them and where to go from here—but that could wait until after graduation, when they were both safe in the interior.

Jean was looking forward to it.   

A/N:  They end up passing out in Marco's bunk together :')

[handwrittenhello]

That Sandpiper Scene

You know, the one that had a lot of people screaming at their TV screens "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT YOU COLOSSAL IDIOT?"

AKA the scene in 2x04 when Jaskier smuggles the elves onto the boat, but pisses off the guard when he insults Jaskier's music. I, like I'm sure many people were, was also extremely frustrated by that scene--but I want to dive into why I think it's ultimately in-character for Jaskier to do it, and what might be behind his actions.

To start, we have to consider the situation as a whole. It's an EXTREMELY stressful time, for him and for everyone else, but especially the elves. War with Nilfgaard, racial genocide in the streets, and for Jaskier, a new hobby of subterfuge and smuggling. He feels it's not only his moral obligation to help the elves, but also pragmatically speaking the sensible thing to do, because he could be next ("They came for the elves, they'll come for the dwarves... no artist is safe.") So it's safe to say he's pretty fucking stressed.

And on top of all that, he doesn't even believe he's qualified to do the job. He makes a joke about it, of course, because that's what he does, but he even admits that he has no plan for smuggling the elves and Yennefer and Cahir onto the boat. He's going to improvise, like he's apparently been doing the entire time. The only thing I can think of worse than risking my life is risking my life without a plan.

So he's running on some pretty high tensions here. Luckily, it seems that he's usually able to get by when he relies on his persona as Jaskier the famous bard, a name he's made for himself over the course of two decades. Only for the guard to stop him short with unasked-for critique over one of his songs (and, as a writer, we all know how much unsolicited criticism sucks, right? :P)

This is, I think, less of an overblown overreaction to a minor comment, and more of the straw that broke the camel's back. Consider all of the previous stressors I just listed, and then consider the fact that Jaskier has literally no control over any of them. He's doing all he can, but there's only so much he can do. But you know what he can control? Music. That's what he's based his entire career on, that's (presumably) what he studied at university, that's what he lives and breathes. How dare this uneducated, amateur dock guard presume to know anything near as much as what Jaskier does?

So he explodes. He rants about how the guard doesn't know anything about music, how his song is unappreciated, etc. etc., and unfortunately pisses off the very guard whose goodwill his and his passengers' survival depends on. This is something he can control, something he knows, something he's good at, and this is his stressed overtaxed brain doing its best to assert control over a situation he has absolutely no control over. It sucks, but it's understandable when considered like this.

Further, it's in-character for him. He's always been painted as the lovable but self-important narrator, a good musician but flawed--he's prideful, overly defensive of his music, easily offended, holds a grudge. It's no wonder he feels deeply wounded by the guard's criticism of his songs, and it's no wonder he lashes out like he does, especially under so much stress.

Anyway thinking through it like this helped me see his frankly horrific actions in this scene in a better and more understandable light, and I hope anyone else who felt uncomfortable during this scene can read this and maybe gain a different or more sympathetic perspective.

[alphamride]

What’s especially sad is that this pattern of profits over storytelling has (in my opinion) been going on for quite some time even before the Universes Beyond stuff happened.

MTG used to have blocks, which were groups of 2-4 sets that would take place in the same setting and feature specific mechanics to tell a story. For anyone unfamiliar with this game’s lore, MTG takes place across a vast multiverse. Each block would focus on one world or major event. The first set of each block was meant to introduce the world and its characters while the others were meant to expand upon it. This ensured that each featured plane would get enough time to develop while advancing the overall plot.

While Ixalan was the last official block, the next three sets, all of which took place in Ravnica and were meant to wrap up a major plot point that had been in development for over a decade, were considered to be their own unofficial block. Once that ended, however, the departure from blocks started to be felt as the game began to jump from plane to plane with each set(1), making it hard for many of these settings to have the same depth the previous ones had. Having fun with the vampire wedding sets (Innistrad Midnight Hunt and Crimson Vow)? Great, you’re off to futuristic not-Japan (Kamigawa: Neon Dynasty) in 3 months only to go to a plane filled with 20th century mobsters (Streets of New Capenna) 2 months after that. We’re currently on a set (Duskmourn: House of Horror) that takes place in a spooky haunted house plane based on scary movies and the next set (Aetherdrift/Death Race) will be about, well, a race that takes place across three different planes. I’m interested in seeing how this will be handled but that’s besides the point.

I’m a newer player (started playing in early 2019) so maybe I’m not the most qualified person to ask this, but is it just me or do some of the newer planes feel a bit… gimmicky? I’d love to hear others’ thoughts on it.

Speaking of gimmicks, let’s talk about the Planeswalkers, more specifically how they’ve been handled over the years. A Planeswalker is a powerful mage who has the special ability to travel between dimensions(2). In regards to the overall story however, the most important ones are the members of the Gatewatch, a group of Planeswalkers who defended the Multiverse. If you’ve seen a Magic character, chances are they are (or were) one of these guys.

While Planeswalkers were originally a smallish group of godlike beings, their numbers grew (and their powers diminished) as a result of the Great Mending, an event that occurred during Future Sight. This (as well as another decision a few years down the line(3)) was done in order to introduce the new Planeswalker card type and ensure that they would be accurate to the lore while preventing them from being absolutely broken.

In March of the Machine: The Aftermath, many Planeswalkers, a couple of whom were in the Gatewatch, lost their powers in an event unofficially known as the Desparkening. To be exact, 21 out of the then-existing 31 Planeswalkers (≈ 68%) lost their powers. Additionally, the number of new or preexisting Planeswalker cards in each set was reduced to 1(4). Storywise, I understand why Wizards may have wanted to reduce the impact of Planeswalkers in the story, but did they really have to limit the characters themselves to accomplish this? Gameplay wise this may have been an overkill as well as the results of a recent poll run by Mark Rosewater (MTG’s Head Designer) suggests that most players want 2 or more Planewalkers per set (5). Overall what does this change in direction mean for the story and game overall? We’ll have to see ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

While recent news surrounding Standard and its sets isn’t all bad (6), it is easy to see why it might be harder for players to engage with the game and story than it was a few years ago back when the writers had more time to flesh out each world. According to Rosewater, the block format isn’t coming back anytime soon, which is quite unfortunate in my opinion.

By the way, I forgot to mention that I’ve only been talking about Magic’s Standard sets this whole time. If that sounds exhausting to you, please note that this stuff (along with all the previews and whatnot) was going on while Universes Beyond, Secret Lair (non-legal FOMO sets), Commander sets, Alchemy sets (exclusive to MTG Arena), and the utter bullshit that was the $1,000 anniversary box(7) were released in between. This also doesn’t include the other controversies going on with MTG and Wizards as a whole as of late such as the AI stuff, the recent Commander controversy (though a lot of that was not due to Wizards iirc), and art infringement.

In conclusion, the Universes Beyond sets are only a small part of the problem.

Thanks for reading. I know this was incredibly long but I’m super interested in the lore. Like I mentioned before, if you have any thoughts, I’d love to hear them. By the way, if you enjoyed this go check out Tolarian Community College. He goes into depth about tips, decks, and current issues surrounding the game. Here’s a video of him reviewing MTG Hot Pockets.

Footnotes:

(1) Please note that there are a couple of exceptions, namely Innistrad: Midnight Hunt and Crimson Vow as well as Dominaria United through March of the Machine: The Aftermath (which was a weird set in and of itself).

(2) You, the player, are one of them :)

(3) As of Commander 2014, a Planeswalker card does not indicate how powerful the Planeswalker themself is but rather how much they’re willing to help you, which I think is kinda funny. Tezzeret, Cruel Machinist isn’t a crappy Planeswalker, he just doesn’t like you.

(4) Up until this point, the amount of Planeswalker cards in each set varied dramatically (we’re talking double digits), but to my knowledge there were usually three per set.

(5) As an irl researcher I feel obligated to mention that it may not be representative of the Magic community as well as that there may be confounding factors in play but whatever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(6) As of Wilds of Eldraine, sets are rotated out of Standard every three years instead of every two years, THANK GOD.

(7) PS: The $1,000 cards were randomized? What??

Final Fantasy and Spider-Man are going to be Standard Legal???