#discriminated lance

[alianoralacanta]

Long post alert! Edits in brackets with Edit: at the start of them:

I think there is a lot of reaction because Lance's dad bought Team Silverstone primarily so that Lance could have a better seat than the Williams he really wasn't getting on with. It was a good idea at the time because Team Silverstone would have completely sunk otherwise (it had gone into administration because the previous owner, Vijay Mallya, couldn't juggle funds round his failing for-profit enterprises fast enough to continue paying) and Lance really benefitted from the gentle guidance Team Silverstone is accustomed to providing newer drivers. It also made good commercial sense for Lawrence Stroll because there was an unusual opportunity in F1 - a chance to make a profit. (Edit: This was done out of love. Lawrence, for all his business prowess, is a family man. He just happens to be able to afford larger expenses than usual in order to support his family and do his best to help each member of it flourish). Unfortunately having a team bought for one's benefit is pretty much the biggest emblem most F1 fans have seen for buying one's way to success. While there's tacit acceptance that a certain amount of financial help is needed to get to F1, pay drivers have been looked down upon since the 1980s - and payment in kind is not considered an improvement on straightforward sponsorship. Lance never got forgiven this, or for being brought into F1 too soon (he could have done with 1-2 years in F2 rather than jumping straight from winning the F3 championship with the help of lots of testing, and it would have cost his dad less), or for once accusing Williams of sabotage. Even when Lance was doing well alongside Sebastian Vettel, the complaining never reduced. (Edit: I've stuck to issues that are at least somewhat relevant to Lance's racing prowess, but it also hasn't escaped my notice that Lance is the only Jewish driver on the grid. Some people hold this against him with various degrees of stealth - as they hold Aston Martin's occasional attempts to wish people a happy Passover or Channukah against it. The whole thing about lobbing ableist slurs at him is also grating, undignified and wrong to do against anyone). Now, when he's having a harder season, and F2 looks like being a relatively strong year, there's a lot of pressure for Aston Martin to take someone else. However, I think Lance is better than that. His starts are a form of proof in themselves. I hope he gets a good chance to prove he's the whole package at the level he's actually at, and that he is in a position to take it with both hands and hold it aloft. (Edits interweaved in the paragraph:) Also, he helped rebuild my favourite team. Not just because of the partial motivation for the funds arriving, but because he is well-liked by the staff. They appreciate his hard work, undemonstrative straightforwardness and understanding of how to motivate people. (He messes up sometimes, but from what I've seen, the good is regarded as far outweighing the bad). Plus he's as tough as nails, as Lance proved viscerally at the start of last year. They appreciate Alonso and they appreciate Lance, two different styles and approaches which work well together. I do think that Lance will leave Aston Martin (one day) a stronger team than it was when he arrived, partly due to his contribution.

Ok so I am just getting into f1 and I’m noticing that a lot of people don’t like Lance because his dad is rich but aren’t like most of the drivers from rich family’s why is it different for him? Genuine question I’m just curious:)

[malwaredykes]

well. here she is. miss Leigh Stasik.

trans woman. stubborn, incorrigible, eccentric. communist; she has leftist in-fighting with herself on the regular. a cannibal; she has no moral qualms about this, and its both a bit of a spiritual thing and a bit of a pragmatic thing. medic (not a doctor. no medical license). she knows for sure she had some kind of significant personality change from being shot in the head, but she doesn't remember what she was like exactly before it happened, it all became this kind of distant memory soup. shes originally from west new cali, but she grew very attached to the mojave. and has a lot of contempt for the ncr. She Will Serve Crack Before She Serves This Country. thank god the army discriminates against transsexuals etc. zero tolerance for the legion, obviously.

she firmly believes she is not nice, or kind, or compassionate, but instead her actions and her general sense of justice stem from her simply doing whats the most logical and objectively beneficial. it may be true to some extent, but she might also have a wee bit of ocd of the "i am a horrible person whos at all times like 2 seconds away from committing atrocities" variety.

shes a SCIENTIST. unofficially. she doesnt have a degree nor a chosen field of study. she makes her own hrt and other mysterious concoctions, including designer chems. which she claims she ingests injects etc not for recreational purposes, but to Enhance Her Powers And Possibilities. she reads old world books about psychology so she can manipulate people better. and makes weird contraptions and doohickeys while high. shes a HACKER of course and hacks terminals and systems for fun and just to see if she can.

her stats are out there due to implants and intense training, originally they were rather average. in-game she wears combat armor mk 2, but i see her having spruced it up like this. her main weapon is the ycs/186, the unique gauss rifle, but before that she used a modded plasma pistol. which she very much enjoyed the silly appearance of. because it was so small and with so much shit tacked on and she could just hold it in one hand like a mutated revolver like Hands up motherfucker bang bang bang lol. her melee weapon of choice is the machete gladius, but she's been training to be able to wield a thermic lance.

in my head the trajectory of her actions and the fate of the mojave that follows is different from what you can do with the game, because leigh could only go for The Secret Leftist Route Which Was Supposed To Be In The Game But We Were Robbed Of It.

boone was the first friend she made after leaving goodsprings and their relationship is particularly notable. they are Comrades, Siblings-In-Arms, Worsties (like besties but fucked up). theyve seen each other at their worst. they annoy each other on purpose. theyve had serious ideological clashes with each other and some ways in which boone perceives the world drive leigh absolutely nuts. they're ride or die for each other. theyre the kind of comfortable around each other where she'll be on the toilet and smoking a cig with the door open and talking to him, while he's naked sitting on the floor removing stitches from his leg. she's done surgery without anesthesia on him. he's projectile vomited blood on her from being poisoned by cazadores. she strongly encourages him to become a traitor to the ncr and to take part in the revolution and the formation of the new independent mojave alliance. somehow, it works on him in the end. shamefully they kinda like snuggling... boone bro come to bed man its nighty night man its beddy bye time.

shes in love with lily bowen. i havent decided yet whether she actually makes a move. but she thinks lily is sooooo dreamy. and shes right. if you dont think the enormous 203 year old blue mutant woman is dreamy thats your problem. outta her way

[unholyhelbig]

More firecrest pls & thank u

Title: Firecrest (Part 5/7)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: More bad parenting, Needles, shootings (guns and mention of death), discrimination, Politics (vaguely), and horrible grammar because we all know I don't proofread.

[A/n: Woo, okay, have finally gotten my bearings on a chapter count. Two more to go folks and then all of my attention will be focused on Fright Night!]

The bourbon burned uncomfortably when you swallowed it down in two gulps. The warmth swirled in your stomach and instantly went to your head. It was a dizzy feeling, one that replaced the despair that had settled in your bones. The oaky taste was appealing enough for you to tap the edge of the glass to signal for another.

The Rusty Nail was the definition of ‘dive-bar’, with its smoke-yellowed walls and torn booth seats that frothed with foam. The bartender had a stained towel over his shoulder and replaced the beer that was in front of a man at the other end of the bar, wordlessly.

A box television that had to be from at least the early 90’s was mounted on the corner of the wall. The news played through the speakers with a cracking static. There was roadwork in the majority of Brooklyn, and coat drives taking place at every middle school in the district.

What caught your hazy attention was a photo of Lance. His smile was intoxicating to the general public, and the graph that populated next to him with winning numbers confirmed this fact. He was pulling ahead astonishingly, and even through your misery, you felt a swell of pride.

“Get a load of that guy,” The bartender hissed under his breath.

“Not a fan?”

You’d heard everything under the sun about your step-father, pointedly ignoring the negative opinions in favor for the man that cooked fantastic blueberry pancakes. His campaign relied on dissolving what remained of the Sokovia accords, and removing the restrictions that were put on Inhumans.

For you, it was easy. While a deep and dark fire brewed within you, you still looked relatively normal. Of course, you went through your teenage phases of turmoil, just like everyone else. But, there were people out there who weren’t so lucky; Inhumans that were plagued with spikes covering their entire bodies, translucent skin that displayed the entirety of their innerworkings, or the rocks that engulfed you once, never falling away at all.

Still, with the small Inhuman marking on the edge of your license, it took three times as long to get through airport security, and renting an apartment hadn’t even been a possibility without your mother co-signing. The world still feared Inhumans, just as they feared the changes that came along with them.

It had been changing for years, and Lance wanted to push things just a little further. You held out hope, but immense love for the man who had helped raised you. Though, not everyone felt the same way. A good portion of citizens opposed the man with the golden smile and kind eyes because of his stance on Inhumans.

“He’s pretty don’t get me wrong. But his stance on those… freaks? Those accords are the only thing keeping our streets safe.”

“Oh?”

“You disagree?”

You took a tentative sip of your drink. You were bone-tired and not much into political talk. It was the middle of the night, and you had just felt the adhesive of your ‘fake-dating-band-aid” get ripped from your skin. It left a stinging discomfort behind.

You shrugged “I don’t think they’re hurting anyone.”

The bartender narrowed his eyes and scoffed. He took your empty glass and didn’t offer to refill it. He probably thought you were drunk, and while you were a little tipsy at best, your position on what you were, what so many people around you hid, stayed the same. It worried you, the target that Lance had on his back because of this.

“What about that shooting?”

“The one committed by a human?

This silenced him, though he wore his frown on his sleeve. It had been so quick, blasted all over the news. A father of a teenager had walked into the pizza place where his son worked and opened fire. He’d found out earlier in the day, that his son was an Inhuman, exposed to the same chemicals you were. Three people died, including the shooter, but it was spun in a way that was unforgiveable.

You held you tongue, instead, throwing your money on the counter. You’d come here to get away from the chaos of your own mind. It had dulled the anxieties to an extent, but what was taken away was soon replaced with annoyance.

Your apartment was, of course, empty upon your return. Keys were set on the end table by the door and you flicked on the nearest light so you could avoid the furniture that you thought about moving every single day. It was lonely here. Cold in a way that went beyond a thermostat.

Sleeping was well out of the question, so you skimmed the bookshelf placed on the far side of the room and grabbed the piece of literature that was most appealing. You saw no point in keeping books that didn’t pull you in within the first hundred pages, but there was a staple few that you kept no matter what.

You’d picked up a worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. You thumbed through the pages, letting it fan the sharp sourness of old paper. The last time you’d read it, you only made it halfway through, and the makeshift bookmark that fell out landed on your lap.

You abandoned the book as quickly as you picked it up in favor for the page marker. It was an old, folded photo. As if pouring salt into the wound, it was one of the only known photos of you and Kate together. Her smile beamed at the camera, one arm around your shoulder and the other holding up the middle finger. 

The two of you were standing on the docks at rented cabin that your families shared. Usually, you didn’t run into the Bishops, but one fateful year, your leisure time had aligned. Eleanor wanted to take a nice photo. You never knew if it was for the masses, or for her own pleasure, but Kate ruined every single shot with her shit-eating grin and obscene gestures.

It had been creased right down the middle, a sloppy split in the glossed parchment. A tear had dripped from your chin and landed on the edge, your throat suddenly tight. You didn’t bother wiping them away, or picking up the discarded copy of Pride and Prejudice when it hit the carpet with an undignified thump.

You were sobbing by the time you decided to fold the photo back up. That was as far as you had gotten, really. Slumped back in a worn loveseat and letting the tears that had been building all day well-up and soak your collar. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and your chest ached fiercely.

It angered you, that all of this was about Kate Bishop, of all people.

It should be Clint that brought on the wealth of emotions. And in a way, it was. It had always been. The archer had discarded you as a young child, and you supposed you should be thankful for that. You were privileged, especially compared to the poor boy in the pizza shop. But the scars still lingered horribly.

You landed softly, and most of that had been because of Kate. The anger and distress that came with the situation was always dampened by her stormy eyes and her pension for doing good. It rebelled against the Bishop protocol and after a long while, you realized she was different. Kinder. Clumsier. More dedicated.

She knew what she wanted, just as well as she knew what you needed. In moments of anger, she’d distract you with her innate ability to drive you crazy with competition. In panic, she had a softer touch that soothed you into extinguishing volatile flames.

Sleeping with her had been a bad idea. You knew if from the start, but preened at her deeper attention, at the way her hands felt against you, breath fanning warmly across your cheeks and then your chest. For her, you were a release. For you, she was everything.

You were in love, with Kate, mother fucking, Bishop.

It weighed your shoulders down, labored your breathing. But strangely, you felt no flames. The warmth that usually accompanied strong emotions such as these wasn’t there. For the first time, in a long time, you succumbed to sadness. Just sadness.

The cobalt of Kate’s dress illuminated the blue ringlets in her iris’s. They caught the light of the chandelier in the lobby. They were crystal, hanging low but secured tightly to the ceiling. Almost as tight as the dress that Kate wore.

You were clad in a tailored suit, loosely buttoned black fabric a lace corset that matched the cobalt of Kate’s cocktail dress. She’d sent you the color combination in a single word text. Blue. And you’d followed her instructions perfectly, matching her wavelength like always.

For extra measure, you put on a dainty stainless steel arrow necklace. It showed commitment, it was just short of showing your misery. Kate’s eyes canned from your toes to your own stare and you barely suppressed the shivers that came with her scrutiny.

She figured it would be better to face this on a united front and arrive together. She let out a quiet huff of indignance and folded her arm enough for you to loop your own through it. Her warmth, her comfort, no matter how scarce, was overwhelming and threatened to bring back the tears.

That wasn’t what tonight was about. Tonight was about having a united front, about being endlessly in love to make your parents uncomfortable. You weren’t quite sure what Kate was getting out of this and she wasn’t about to tell you either.

The elevator ride up was uncomfortable. She’d never been this quiet for this long before.

“Kate,”

“No.” She clenched her jaw, voice a low whisper despite it only being the two of you and the slowly climbing lift. “For once, y/n, don’t say a word.”

Your eyes met hers in the reflective paneling and you gave her a small nod. The silence had suddenly become heavier, deeper. Your hand curled up in your jacket pocket before you diverted your gaze. The only mercy was the elevator reaching the penthouse, a muffled ‘ding’ proceeding the doors sliding open to her foyer.

The archer had pulled her shoulders back and had a soft smile on her face. There was a sadness behind her eyes that anyone else would have to dig for, but you could see it from a mile away. She was hurting as much as you were but wasn’t going to show it.

You did just the same, working the tension from your features as the scent of lamb coated your lungs and made your stomach clench. You’d always hated the dish, but it was a staple of the Bishop family chef so you powered through it every time.

She smoothed her hand over your jacket sleeve as the two of you stepped out of the elevator. It almost scared you how perfectly she fit into this role. It was the flip of a switch. You were uncomfortable with the thought of it being in your favor. You couldn’t feel the love behind her gestures, because they were just that. Gestures.

“Ready?” She asked.

“Ready.” You replied.

The mechanical whir of the elevator had attracted the attention of those who had already arrived. You’d been in Kate’s house once or twice, enough to count on only one hand. But, you knew the layout fairly well. Her apartment was open concept, and this had a million intersecting walls and corridors.

The two of you passed the dining room and entered something you could only describe as a sitting room, maybe a study with the large oak bookshelves, dusty and untouched. The walls were a Spanish moss green and the hardwood covered by an oriental rug.

Eleanor wore a blood red dress, and Jack had a matching silk pocket square. Clint was the only one that stood out among all of you. He wore a nice dress shirt that was tucked into black pants, he looked cleanly pressed and perfect for a Bishop dinner party.

He held a glass of whiskey, and Jack was pouring one more. He gave you a beaming, and wholly innocent smile, his mustache lifting at the sides. “Miss Morse! Katie!”

You felt Kate stiffen next to you at the name, her jaw clenching. Instinctively, your hand covered hers, thumb ghosting over the scarring on her knuckles. Her shoulders seemed to lower, and that breath smelled of the familiar wintergreen.

“Darling,” Eleanor moved forward and placed phantom kisses against both of Kate’s cheeks before moving to do the same with you. “Let me get a good look at you both.”

“Mom, you’ve seen us before.”

“Not like this. It’s different. Before it was just rumors, and speculation. Annoying, isn’t it? But now, we can spin this anyway we want to.”

Kate gave her mother a tight smile. “We’re not a press opportunity”

“Not so easy to say when you’ve already been all the press can talk about.” She shrugged and took the glass from Jacks hand. “You know, at first, I thought this was horrible. But people seem to like you both.”

There was something on the tip of her tongue that wanted to escape. A God Know’s why or a couldn’t be me. But she said neither and an uncomfortable silence fell over you all. Kate subconsciously tightened her fingers against your arm once more, and the pressure was nearly soothing.

Your eyes met Clint’s across the room, and you got hit with the familiar feeling of your world tilting in a nauseating way. He offered up a small smile, the only one he could muster within these last few chaotic weeks.

He waved at Kate, not enthusiastically, a neutral and awkward expression of affection. Kate let out a long breath, retracting her arm and similarly placing her hand on the small of your back. She needed a grounding technique, just as much as you did.

Eleanor sensed the tension and announced that it was time for dinner. The scent of the lamb came rolling back in crashing waves. Upon entering the dining room, you were positive that the woman hadn’t cooked this meal herself.

A linin table cloth was punctuated with candles, bathing the room in a dull yellow light. There were different platters piled with dripping meat, and steaming mashed potatoes. Glasses of red wine rested next to the salads situated on gold plating.

Fire crackled within the large stone hearth that you’d never seen lit. It seemed almost directed, sitting in front of the warm, smoldering flames. Across from you was Eleanor and Jack, Clint right in between them. Jack seemed particularly fond of the man, similarly entrapped by his accomplishments as the rest of the world.

“Everyone, dig in” Eleanor prompted “No need to be so formal.”

“Right,” Kate cleared her throat, picking up fork and chasing a cherry tomato with the prongs. “How is everyone?”

You winced at the pathetic attempt at small talk, staring down at your own wilted greens. It was a valiant effort that was promptly ignored by everyone else at the table.

“Y/n, why don’t you tell us more about yourself?” Eleanor asked.

Kate gave you a look that intimately read as you don’t have to entertain her. “You know all about Y/n. We grew up together.”

“From fifth grade onward. I remember when your mom enrolled you. You kept deliberately ripping your uniform until she agreed to pants. Same thing happened with Katherine. But now that you and my daughter are involved, I’d like to know more.”

She took a sip of her wine, and your fingers brushed over the glass base of your own glass. But you didn’t pick it up. You’d decided last night, sometime between showering off the scum of the dive-bar and propping a window in your apartment to get some fresh air, that you needed a clear head for something like this.

You cleared your throat. “Well, uh, what would you like to know?”

“Where you grew up!” Jack cut in fantastically, talking around a mouth full of vegetation, waving his fork around like a madman “Your favorite color, if you have any pets!”

Your stare flicked to Clint, but he was staring down at his untouched food. He didn’t know the answer to any of these questions and the stinging bile that threatened to push past your lips was instantly swallowed back down in favor of your dignity.

“I moved around a lot as a kid, my mom traveled for work a lot so we were never in one place for too long. Amsterdam, Delhi, Perth. The best place though, was a small desert town in Arizona. There weren’t many people there and it could get to about a hundred degrees by the time the sun was at it’s highest point. But it was peaceful, and beautiful.”

Clint was watching you carefully now. He’d been there too. It was one of the last places you’d traveled together as a family. There was a small strip of old wooden structures that reminded you of the wild west, cutting through the orange of the desert. Murals were painted against the rocky structures, writhing snakes, swallowing the sun, and fire shimmering over it’s scales.

It was captivating during the day, but even better at night. It was the clearest you had ever seen the stars. Blankets of twinkling constellations and milky ways that you’d never seen before. Your neck started to ache from staring up at it for so long, and it was Clint who had laid a blanket in the bed of his truck and laid next to you to view them.

He’d taught you about the different formations, and of course, his favorite, the Sagittarius. An archer that sacrificed his own mortality for the sake of his sons. It seemed ironic now. But then, it had made you feel like the most important girl in the world.

“A dusty old desert town over the streets of Amsterdam?” Eleanor seemed to find amusement in this, piercing a slice of carrot with the prongs of her fork. It gave a satisfying snap. “Interesting.”

“It was peaceful” You shrugged, finally giving in and taking a warm sip of wine. “The last time we were together as a family.”

“Is that right?”

Eleanor was enjoying herself too much and Kate’s hand nervously went to the charm around her own neck. You hadn’t noticed it before, trying to be respectful. Trying not to let your eyes wander during an irreparable time.

She looked best in gold and knew that from a young age. The chain was dainty, and the pendant was a whisp of a flame. It made your mouth go dry and you wondered if it was a conscious decision, just like the one you had made to grab the only necklace with an arrow.

“I remember that place.” Clint spoke up for the first time. “It was called Chloride. Weird name for a town.”

You were too transfixed on Kate’s fingers running over the curvature of the necklace to care. Her cheeks took on a red tint in the glow of the candles. She removed her hand and found yours on top of the table. It was damp, but a solid force.

“You were afraid of scorpions in your shoes and made me and your mom check and double check them before you even thought of putting them on. You usually went barefoot, which was more dangerous than just wearing the shoes.”

“Is this your idea of an olive branch?”

The words left your mouth without thinking, and they were pumped with venom. You couldn’t help it. Your stomach was already rolling unsteadily and his words, though soaked with kindness, were far from merited. Kate’s mother sat back with an almost giddy look on her face. She’d been expecting this.

Kate tightened her grip inadvertently, and you could feel the small sting of her nails carving crescents into your palm. You wholly expected her gaze to be narrowed at you, but it was transfixed on Clint. There was a hardness there that she had harbored for you earlier in the week.

You let out a strangled breath and stared down at your salad. It wasn’t worth it. None of this felt worth it. In a strange way, you were absolutely defeated, and the wilted lettuce was much more interesting than satisfying Eleanor Bishop’s sick need for chaos.

“No. of course not.” His expression betrayed a sadness that pulled uncomfortably at your chest. “Just a memory, is all.”

“Do you know what I remember?”

Kate rumbled softly, a noise that was every bit the warning to you. Let it go. She worried incessantly about the fire under your fingertips. Possibly more than yourself in moments like these. But there was no itching beneath your skin. For once, it was just a storm of sorrow. Sweat was forming on your brow and Kate’s grip shifted to your wrist, finger pressed plainly to your pulse.

“The look in your eyes when you walked away. I was just a kid, but that was the first time I ever learned about betrayal. For months, Clint, months I would sit by the window and wait for you to come back. It didn’t matter where we were, what country, what city, I would wait. I was certain that you would find us and we could be a family again.”

He clenched his knife and fork on either side of his plate, his knuckles turning a sickly type of white that nearly echoed yellow, his whisper was broken. “I’m… sorry. I understand that you need someone to blame, kid.”

“Blame?” You let out a dry laugh, standing with enough force to push the chair back with a strangled screech. “You think this is about blame? That’s a simple emotion to work through. This is about which one of you was willing to stick around when things got hard, and which one of you ran to a new family.”

The silence was deafening. Eleanor lifted her wine glass and hid her vicious smirk behind the seductive red liquid. Jack had directed his tender stare to Kate, no-doubt deciding then and there to be a good stepfather for more than a few moments at a time.

You sucked in a heavy breath before shaking your head and leaving the room. It wasn’t difficult to navigate the Bishop penthouse, with it’s dark open-concept layout. You needed air. It was much too hot in the dining room and you’d begun to sweat through your layers of clothing.

The balcony connected to the family room lacked decoration. It was a stone ledge that caught the cold drafts of high winds, drying the sweat against your skin instantly. You swallowed enough frigid air to burn your throat, but the tears refused to come. You couldn’t cry anymore.

Your head hung over the edge of the balcony, a strange dizziness washing over you as you stared down at the passing traffic, hundreds of unblinking eyes that lit up the night. You wish you had the foresight to grab the glass of wine, or something stronger from Jacks secret stash.

The temperature had dropped significantly by the time you heard the sliding glass door open. You didn’t bother turning around. Not with the subtle evergreen scent. “Tell Eleanor I’m sorry for ruining dinner.”

“Ruining?” Kate chuckled softly. Warmth engulfed you as she draped a blanket over your shoulders. You grasped the frayed edges out of habit and tugged it closely around you. “She lives for the drama of it all. She expected this, I think you’ve actually made her year.”

She leaned against the balcony, letting her hands hang over the edge. She looked ethereal in the moonlight, pale and beautiful. The tell-tale anger that had been etched into her features earlier was surrendered. You caught the glint of her bracelet and nervously brought your own hand up to the cool arrow charm that rested against your collarbone.

“It’s frustrating, isn’t it? Waiting for someone to apologize?”

The corner of your lips lifted into a smile. “Very subtle, Katie.”

“I’m giving you an opening here.”

You sighed heavily and turned just enough to get a better look at her. She always knocked the breath out of you in an almost cruel way. Her eyes held a tenderness that was unmatched. She was patient with you, just like she had always been.

“This entire time, I’ve been chasing after an apology from Clint., one that he’s too proud to give. It’s easy to be consumed by something like that, but that’s no excuse to hurt you in the process.” You swallowed heavily, trying to curb the dryness in your throat.

You couldn’t look at her. The mere sight of the curve of her jaw, the softness of her demeanor despite her deep seeded anger, would be too much. Kate effectively knocked you off your feet every single time she spared you a glance. If you were going to get this out in the open, you’d much rather stare at the traffic below.

 “Katie, I can’t begin to describe how much you mean to me. We’ve always had this unspoken rivalry and for the longest time I couldn’t figure it out. Why couldn’t we both just be good at the same things without vying against one another?”  

You let out a wounded sigh, fingers digging into the stone balcony. “I never understood why I wanted to beat you so badly, and I don’t know where along the way that changed. But I’ve realized recently that it was never about beating you. It was about making you proud.”

Her breath had caught, a subtle noise that you noticed due to proximity. Her hand was atop yours, much like it was at dinner, somehow warmer than your own. She didn’t say anything, and you didn’t lift your gaze to meet hers. Your cheeks were enflamed with blush that you could blame on the two sips of wine you had.

“Deep down, I’ve always known that I’ve been in love with you since that first kiss at archery camp. I don’t expect you to feel the same, but I was doing more damage hiding it from you than putting it out there. You have to understand, Katie, I never meant to hurt you the other day. I’m just so used to burying it down, to keeping my emotions stifled for the greater good, that I didn’t know what to say… how to say it.”

She was rendered speechless herself and you could feel your vision start to blur at the edges, the lights from lines of city traffic suddenly fuzzy. You were never a fan of heights, but the sudden sloppy confession was much more daunting than the prospect of falling thirty stories.

“Oh,” Kate rasped.

You clenched your eyes shut until you saw stars. She’d never been a girl of little words, and you felt your heart rate increase. It pounded listlessly, preparing for rejection that you knew typically followed her silence.

None of that came, however, instead was the slightest pinprick against the side of your neck. You would have figured it nothing more than a mosquito if the weather hadn’t taken an icy turn. But this was different, this alerted your senses in one fail swoop.

Your eyes snapped open and narrowed at Kate in time to register the emptying of the syringe she’d pushed past your skin. A sickly green liquid that already stung terribly as it started to pulse through your veins.

“A lovely sentiment, I’m sure.” She pouted in a mocking way, lilting her head to the side as she pulled the needle from the side of your neck. Your fingers pressed against the area to quell the foreign sensation.

You were suddenly incredibly dizzy, the pulsing of your vision matching with the frantic beating of your heart. You were losing strength quickly, clinging to the stone balcony for some type of solace. You fell all the same, collapsed at its corner with quick breaths of panic.

Kate was suddenly crouched in front of you. She lifted your chin until you could stare into her eyes. They were cold, emotionless. “Maybe one day, you’ll be able to tell her.”

Her thumb brushed lightly over your cheek. It was so familiar, yet incredibly foreign. Your thoughts were muddled, non-existent as the heavy sensation took over. She seemed to revel in your confusion, in the pain that she’d so easily inflicted.

Kate’s disconnected stare was the last thing you saw before darkness swallowed you whole in an odd type of comfort, the world ceased to flicker, like the edges of a flame.

Tag List💕: @noturlondonboy, @slvtformaria, @pianogirl2121, @escapereality4music, @cyberbonesworld, @dark-hunter16

[thatsnotmygunflash]

“Panic erupted at Central City Hall after unknown gunmen kidnapped Congressman Leonard Snart in broad daylight during his 'Metas are Human' rally. Eyewitnesses to the attack say three of Snart's security guards were killed in their efforts to protect the Congressman and four more were injured. Authorities say they are putting in every effort to recover the Congressman, working around the clock to bring him home safely. If anyone has any information regarding—”

“Hey man, are you watching the news?” Barry didn't bother with a hello when he heard the call connected, his eyes still glued to the footage of the kidnapping replaying on the TV screen. It was the first time since being back in Central that he'd felt the familiar course of adrenaline start to build in his blood. His feet were already vibrating just thinking about running head-first into a new mission. This was a problem he could solve as easily as making a run to the grocery store. He might not be in the military anymore and his whole team may be suspended from using their powers on US soil until the investigation is over, but there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to let that stop him from saving not only his personal hero but the Congressman leading the fight for metahuman rights. If Leonard Snart died, metahumans wouldn’t stand a chance against the discrimination and dehumanization they were up against in Congress. 

“Yeah, crazy right? Can't believe they got the drop on Captain Cold.” Cisco replied readily, the echoing broadcast accompanying his voice. “I mean, we've all heard the stories from General Lance.” 

Leonard Snart hadn’t always been a Congressman, of course. He was the beloved Mayor of Central City before that, and a decorated police officer briefly after being honorably discharged from the military due to an injury in the field. Leonard Snart was the only human to ever Captain the same covert metahuman team Barry had helped lead for the past five years. The original Rogues were legendary, especially their human leader. He may have only been human, but Snart had a genius-level intellect and was an expert tactician, not to mention an exceptional marksman and a bit of a kleptomaniac at the most convenient of times. Captain Cold was a decorated hero who helped turn the Rouges into the military's best secret weapon. The motivational stories that Sara had told them during training and the old missions she would drill them on had fueled Barry's endless quest to be the best operative he could be. Chasing Captain Cold's legacy like it was critical to his career, right up to the point of obsession. It had helped him rank up quickly, religiously studying Snart's tactical strategies, missions, and reports. Barry learned from his mistakes before he could even make them most of the time thanks to Snart’s detailed mission logs and his additional references to counter scenarios that would have been successful. Barry was the man he is today because of Leonard Snart–his hero, his teacher, and his inspiration. He couldn’t stand back on the sidelines and hope someone else was going to put a plan together and save Snart.

He had to do something. 

“Yeah, they would have just shot him in the street if they wanted him dead,” Barry theorized, finally giving in to the restlessness running through his body and taking off into a sprint, barely being able to enjoy the exhilarating feeling of running again before he was across town and right into the middle of Cisco’s underground workshop. “The kidnappers must want something else, but that doesn't mean they won't kill him when they get it.” 

“Is this you trying to ask me to look into where they’re keeping him?” Cisco questioned with a surprised eyebrow raised as he took the phone away from his ear and set it down near the gutted metal tube spilling over with wires sitting in front of the scientist, along with an array of tools and loose equipment. If Barry wasn’t mistaken it was one of Hartley’s sonic grenades he was tinkering with. The same sonic grenades the Miltary had confiscated. Barry knew he couldn't have been the only one going stir-crazy since being discharged, but Cisco had been smart enough not to inform the government about his ability to breach, allowing him easy access to anything he wanted, from this world or another. Cisco always had to be doing something with his hands, anything to keep him busy and his ideas flowing. It was a trait Barry had always admired about his best friend, especially right now.

“Maybe? I don't know. I feel like I should do something, he could die,” Barry replied warily, running a hand through his hair as he considered what would happen if he didn't get involved. “The guys who grabbed him have to be professionals, there's no way of knowing what they'll do if SWAT gets involved. I'm thinking if you can pin down his location I can be in and out with Snart before you finish telling me the address.” 

“I'll let Frosty and Cait know what's up while I track him down, have them set up the med room for him just in case.” Cisco was already abandoning his workbench and moving towards his computer as he spoke, typing out a message to the girls on his phone while he booted up his PC. “Want me to contact his team and let them in on the plan?”

“After. I don't want to take the chance if this is an inside job. I want Snart safe before we bring outsiders in on this.” Barry responded, knowing in his gut that the only thing they could afford to worry about right now was making sure Snart made it out of this alive. 

“Yeah good call, can't have the man spearheading the ‘Metas are Human' movement dying before he can get the bill passed.” Cisco agreed with an approving nod, fingers dancing over the keyboard as he pulled up the satellite footage of the kidnapping. 

“Exactly. He's our only chance at keeping our civil rights, Cisco, we gotta save him.” He didn't mention he was their only chance of getting the team back together and their dishonorable discharges dropped. Lance still kept in contact with them all even if it was dangerous for her own career to be mixed up with their disgraced team at such an uneasy time like this. She had risked it though to tell them she had talked to Snart about their situation and he had vowed to do what he could to get them all reinstated and the investigation handled by an unbiased party. 

“I know man, I'm tracking them through CCTV cameras right now, shouldn't be much longer. You should suit up.” Cisco suggested, pressing a button on a small remote while nodding towards the now moving back wall where he kept the team’s secret emergency gear stashed. It seemed like Cisco was keeping a lot of secrets from the government down here. 

“Red or black?” Barry asked the scientist, trying not to get caught up in the nostalgia of seeing his team's suits lined up and on display again. It had only been three months since the team was disbanded but it felt like years to him. This felt like coming home, much more than arriving at Central City airport after 12 years away had. 

“Black. Should probably keep this one stealthy.” Cisco replied, turning his head to the side to meet Barry's eye. “Are we playing this like Karmana or Kota Baharu?” 

“Moscow,” Barry said with a soft hum, trembling fingers reaching for the reinforced tripolymer fabric waiting for him. It really had been too long, the anticipation was almost too much for him to handle. He's missed the comfort of his super suit. Of his team. His life. God, everything had gone to such shit so quickly that he never even got to prepare himself for never suiting up and leading a mission again. It had been stripped from him just like his team, his rank, and his reputation had. 

“Oh really?” Cisco curved his surprise quickly, his worry pushing forward instead. “You think he'll remember the call sign?” 

“He'll remember,” Barry replied confidently, not wasting another second and flashing into his suit. It was even better than he remembered, like a missing limb growing back, or maybe he had missed his old life more than he cared to admit. Now, he felt safe and powerful and needed. Three things that had been severely lacking in his life since being discharged.

“Let's hope you're right,” Cisco muttered before glancing down at his phone and smirking in triumph. “I've got the location and Cait is almost ready. It's showtime, Lieutenant Flash.” 

“Don't call me that man. I'm not your lieutenant anymore.” Barry said with a shake of his head, brushing off Cisco's quick reply. 

“The government may have royally fucked us all over and disbanded the team, but that doesn't mean I lost respect for the rank you earned dude.”

“Whatever, can you just give me the address please? We have a Congressman to save.” Barry pulled his cowl up, letting it settle into place and feeling his shoulders drop down, all the tension he was carrying leaving him at once. There was no better feeling than using his powers to save someone, and now after months of moping around his shoebox apartment and his mind-numbing third-shift security gig, having to refrain from using his speed, he was going to get to use it to save Leonard Snart. He knew the ‘Oh shit, I’m going to meet Leonard Snart!’ freak out he would no doubt have later would be embarrassing and long, but it would mean Snart would be alive and that was more than enough for Barry to look forward to making a fool of himself in the future.  

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Cisco winced at the latest text that popped up, shooting Barry a constipated smile. “Hopefully he's like really grateful you’re risking it all right now to save his ass and can keep you from getting arrested for doing it. Frost says they know you're active. APB is about to go out. Waller is pissed.” 

“Better make this good then, I'm too pretty for prison.” Barry couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face as Cisco finally rattled off the address to him, offering him a lazy salute that a year ago would have gotten him kitchen duty for two weeks. Now it just earned him a good-natured laugh.  

“Good luck, Lieutenant,” Cisco said with an encouraging pat on the back, letting out a small laugh to himself when Barry took off just as quickly as he had appeared. “Something tells me you're going to need it.”

[thirdlotusprince3]

Other idea I had Anger forced Pouchy to swallow all the new emotions so they will not be a problem.

And

Envy is acts more like a spoiled rich kid who cries and tantrums to get what she wants.

(Okay the Logan Paul and Jojo Siwa I'm kinda making fun of them, I don't actually like any of them)

Based off of this

(99+) Of the options listed below, which one would completely ruin “Avatar the Last Airbender” for you? Aang discriminates against... – @giveamadeuschohisownmovie on Tumblr

[httpsleclerc]

welcome !

amy, 20, CA

my requests are currently open!

drivers i write for: charles leclerc, oscar piastri, george russell, lewis hamilton, max verstappen, sebastian vettel, lance stroll, arthur leclerc, pierre gasly, ollie bearman, mick schumacher

yes: platonic fics (sister!reader, friend!reader, for certain drivers, x daughter!reader), romantic fics, angst, comfort, smau, mental illness (limited to depression and ED's, I wouldn't want to write anything else and have it messed up)

no: smut, poly x reader, nothing to do with any discrimination

masterlist

[ithseem]

Hijabi MC Shenanigans+Headcanons in Saligia

Guy

Guy: *tries to kiss MC in the beginning*

MC, punching him: NO KISSING

Toa

Toa: This has absolutely no alcohol content. Have you ever HAD wine before?

MC: No, nor do I ever plan to because my religion STRICTLY FORBIDS EVEN GOING NEAR THE STUFF

Toa:

Fenn

MC be dodging his advances like a Bollywood action movie protagonist

Roy

MC: At least I can have some semblance of normalcy

Lynt

Lynt tryna use her as a pillow, but she politely declines, since her religion forbids her from coming into contact with men

Other Things That May or May Not Have Happened

MC draping her duvet over her head as a makeshift hijab when unexpected visitors come

MC gets caught washing her feet in the sink for wudhu

MC feeling incredibly disoriented bc she has no idea which way the Qiblah (the direction of the Kabah in Mecca) is, so offering prayer is a nightmare and a half

MC lowkey upset bc the Quran does not exist in Saligia (iirc). And Lou wishes he could help

Rio and Thoma getting worried about MC during Ramadhan (whenever that is. It's super stressful not knowing when the Islamic calendar lines up with the calendar here) bc she's going from dawn till dusk without food or drink for a month

MC happily answering her friends' questions about her religion (they are genuinely curious)

MC's S-Rank friends apologizing for what they did in the first few chapters (I cannot be certain if they fully understand the true ramifications of what they've done, but they feel bad regardless, since they don't like to see MC upset)

Lance would be genuinely curious about her religion also and try to make a safe space for her (Lance doesn't discriminate, a person in need of a safe space is a person in need of a safe space)

Sherry and Violet go shopping with MC often and they often find some really cute and modest clothes for her

J*sper is normal in this AU, so he actually respects her religion

Tino freaks out and profusely apologizes whenever he accidentally makes something haram to eat for her. Knight would also do the same

Grayson wondering why she only eats fruits and vegetables here, and she tell him that she is not sure if the meats are halal, and she does not want to take any chances and accidentally eat something haram

to all the hijabi CoD players, I write this for you

[khaleesiofalicante]

i've discovered the real reason why lance and aj are discriminated by the clave...david's genes made them look too cunty...i mean look at the cunt they are serving omg

[ditzydisaster13]

By the Best of the Lightning Strike

”By the Best of the Lightning Strike” is a Voltron Fantasy Au I’ve been working on. It’s been more mental preparation than anything I’ve written down as of late. But I’m planning plenty of art for it.

The characters are primarily Elven knights and warriors. Galra and Altean are all species of their own. With separate kingdoms and soldiers. Other “aliens”-> which are recognized as more mythological creatures and species themselves, belong as stand alone creatures or those under the rule, either willing or not, of Galra vs Altean-Voltron. Voltron is what they call their knights. Their best fighters are:

Lancelot (Lance) Ladron. His last name might mean thief. But only of hearts and frowns. A flirtatious soldier with glassy ocean eyes and a pure and unadulterated love for the stars and the sea alike. He has great power. Of water and rain, storm and wind. With his sickness comes weariness. He is physically strong. But Mentally does not allow himself the peace and smiles other see in him. He is wounded by the war. The war that leaves him half blind. And the war of the raging and roaring water and hurricanes that crash in his head. He is wonderful with a Sword. A bow and Arrow strikes through the most powerful currents. But his intentions to the world happen to be his strongest weapons. He is wise beyond his jokes. And a Master of craft. His magic is purely dispensable to him. And wonderful to others. He is among the last humans (aside his family, half elven and half human. He is mostly human) in Altea. But he won’t let the Purple trolls of Galran territory graze his pride.

Keith Keiden (name basically means Warrior from the wood of the battlefield.) Is a Grunt. A type of Fae that remain on the shorter side, with tempers that can be difficult to control. They are family people. And do not take being abandoned well. They are brisk and good fighters. Who fight with force and trickery. They are sneaky and prideful in not only their skills but their keen. Keith is also half Galra. Which results in some slight discrimination and anger when he reveals his bloodline. However, as well as a Voltron Soldier and Knight to Altea, his loyalties are split to the Blade of marmora. Garland and half Galran species who in turn want nothing to do with their kingdom or ancestry that fight independently, in small groups, and occasionally on the side of the Alteans. They often prefer Solitude. But Love is in fact their greatest weapons. A master of sword and blade, Keith is also a Dramonk. A name derived from the ancient and rare people of the dragons, meaning fire wielder. Flume of red and pink burst and burn from his hands. Dousing into rolling smoke. His anger gets the best of him. But a certain “thief” knows all too many way to douse the flames.

Dove Holt (Pidge/Katie. -> Holt actually means forest.) Despite Her [She/They pronouns for Pidge] less that forestric life, one home in the woods, a second in the workshop her father uses to study space, they are a lovely person. Dove, typically known as Pidge, is a Grunt. A distant Altean/Elven great grandmother somewhere in her blood. Dove, or Pidge, has the ability to connect with thee earth. He love and excitement for the future of space travel and technology is evident in her slick and mobile style of dressing. Despite her ladylike voice, they are sarcastic and witty. Athletic and feisty. Their connection to nature is in the soil. The vines that grow from her arms and allow her to launch herself great distances.

[lewisvinga]

I am so pissed off. I was scrolling through TikTok and I was saw this trend where people get their friends or siblings to rate drivers and they were so unbelievably rude when it came to Lance that it made me want to throw my phone at the wall. They said he was ugly, which is OK for someone to say, but then the way they kept insulting him and then the person who posted it agreed. And people were saying that they love seeing people slander Lance. Like, what did Lance do other than have a rich dad who loves him? I don’t see anybody hating on for a rich dad who loves him. Do they think it’s free to get into formula? You literally have to pay to have a seat in formula 2 just because Lance’s dad loves him enough to help him out to do whatever he loves, does it mean Lance is ugly or a nepo freak as the tt girl put it.

I if any of the other drivers was parents did what Lance’s was doing, nobody would bat an eye. But then I saw this thing where people revealed that a huge reason that Lance gets hate is because where he’s from and his religion. Phobia and I forgot the word for when you hate someone of a certain religion. Not just because his dad is rich and pays for the team.

Take that with a grain of salt cause I know that not everybody hates him for his religion, but a lot of people hate him because of where he’s from, and because of his dad

I bet if their parents wanted to pay for them to be Formula One, they would snatch up the opportunity, quick, fast, and in a hurry. I’m going to end this because it’s getting too long, but I think most of the hate for him is just because other people hate him, and not because of people forming their own opinions about him.

lance’s only crime is having a loving billionaire father 😭😭😭

this is why i say so many f1 fans are hypocrites because half of the drivers ARE NEPO BABIES basically, they either have parents in motorsports or rich asf parents. lawrence stroll did what any loving father would do and funded lance’s racing career while growing up🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

i alwayssssd see ppl slander lance then turn a blind eye to their favorites it’s annoying 😭

idk much abt lance’s religion but the word for discrimination against religions depends on the religion like anti semitism or islamophobia

and tbh a lot of non european + non white drivers tend to get more unnecessary hate towards them, it’s such a common thing i’ve noticed 🤷‍♀️

[thereader-radhika]

Malayadhwaja Pandyan in Mahabharata

Pandya, who dwelt on the coast-land near the sea, came accompanied by troops of various kinds to Yudhishthira.

This Pandya king is addressed by two names in the epic - Malayadhwaja and Sarangadhwaja. 'Malaya' and 'Saranga' both mean "sandalwood" and the name is derived from the Tripuranthaka aspect of Shiva, who made Malaya mountains (named for the Sandal trees that grow on it) his yoke during the burning of the triple cities. He is a very fascinating character.

During Yuddhishtira's Rajasuya, Pandya and Chola monarchs brought gifts which were accepted, but they were not allowed inside.

And the Kings of Chola and Pandya, though they brought numberless jars of gold filled with fragrant sandal juice from the hills of Malaya, and loads of sandal and aloe wood from the Dardduras hills, and many gems of great brilliancy and fine cloths inlaid with gold, did not obtain permission (to enter).

Discrimination! Discrimination!

His country was annexed by Vrishnis at some point and his father was killed by Sri Krishna himself.

It was he [Krishna] that slew King Pandya by striking his breast against his . . .

He yearned for vengeance and trained under the renowned teachers of that era for that purpose. Even if he couldn't have killed Krishna, he was capable of causing great damage, as we can see later. But he listened to good counsel and gave up his revenge fantasies for the greater good. Very admirable indeed.

The mighty Sarangadhvaja . . . his country having been invaded and his kinsmen having fled, his father had been slain by Krishna in battle. Obtaining weapons then from Bhishma and Drona, Rama and Kripa, prince Sarangadhvaja became, in weapons, the equal of Rukmi and Karna and Arjuna and Achyuta. He then desired to destroy the city of Dvaraka and subjugate the whole world. Wise friends, however, from desire of doing him good, counselled him against that course. Giving up all thoughts of revenge, he is now ruling his own dominions.

One can even say that Malayadhwajan became a karmayogi before Krishna advised Gita to Arjunan, by not chasing personal glory and fighting selflessly for the people who were consistently bad to his clan.

Praised as "hardly inferior to Indra on the field of battle" and "followed when he fights by numberless warriors of great courage", Malayadhwajan led one of the 7 akshauhinis of the Pandava faction and fought valiantly until the 16th day of the battle. I don't understand what was he doing with those Pandavas who wouldn't let him or his father (I not sure about the timeline) enter the Rajasuya yajnasala.

On the 16th day, as he was destroying Karna's army which "began to turn round like the potter's wheel", Ashwatthama challenged him to one-to-one combat. When he fought Ashwatthama, Karna destroyed the army that surrounded him and Ashwatthama destroyed his chariot, as his arrows were unable to pierce the King himself. The epic says that Ashwatthama was quite excited by this fight and didn't slay Pandyan when he got an opening because he wanted to fight for some more time. Malayadhwajan climbed a stray elephant and threw lances at Ashwatthama who narrowly escaped with his beautiful crown shattered. This infuriated him and he killed the king, his elephant and the final six warriors that followed their Lord.

At this, Ashvatthama blazed up with exceeding rage . . . and took up four and ten shafts capable of inflicting great pain upon foes. . . with three the two arms and the head of the king, and with six he slew the six mighty car-warriors, endued with great effulgence, that followed king Pandya . . .

@celestesinsight @willkatfanfromasia @sambaridli @harinishivaa @sakhiiii @whippersnappersbookworm @favcolourrvibgior @sampigehoovu @ambidextrousarcher

[the-kittens-of-vol-tron]

It's Just Pretend

Chapter 1: Hear Me Out!

Summary: Lance and Keith are fresh out of college. They are already "living" the post-graduate dream. Well paying jobs in their respective fields. Solid friendships, just one thing is getting in their way. They need an apartment as soon as possible. Everywhere they look goes with another couple.

An idea given by a friend leads these two boys into a fake engagement just to score an apartment.

They find an apartment quickly, but will the engagement stay fake forever?

AO3!

Word Count: 1,733

Hey everyone, I'm back with another random fic!

I've been wanting to write this for a while and finally started a month ago <3 (Shout out to @shirokeithpidgearemybesties for motivating me to write <3333)

Enjoy~

“Oh that’s fine, thank you for getting back with us,” Lance rubbed his eyes as the person on the other end of the phone apologized once more. “Have a good night.” He ended the call, leaning his head back with a groan.

“What did they say?” Keith asked in a knowing tone.

Lance cleared his throat, raising his voice an octave to match the person on the phone. “So sorry Mister McClain, but we rented the apartment to someone else.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “we make three times the rent combined! We were more than qualified.”

“Tough market I guess.” Lance slipped his phone back into his pocket, “I’m going to get a drink. Need anything while I’m out?”

Keith shook his head, reaching for his laptop. “I’ll be looking at some more places while you’re gone.”

Lance nodded, moving to grab his keys and slip his shoes on. “You’re the best man.” He unlocked the door, “be home later.” And while a mumbled goodbye he clicked the door closed and started down the hall.

---

He slammed his glass down, grimacing around the bitter liquid. “I just don’t get it, Adam. What are we doing wrong?!”

The bartender slid him another shot, grabbing his other glass. “Sounds to me like nothing.”

Lance groaned, resting his head on the cold wood. “We are freshly graduated, both make way more than the ‘required’ renters amount. Is it because we’re young?! Do people think we’re party animals?!”

Adam shrugged as he started to polish some glasses. “Could be several things. It’s hard to say.”

“You’re no help.”

“I’m a bartender, not a real estate agent.” He placed the glass he was holding down. Grabbing a new one right after. “How much longer can you and your roommate stay in your current housing?”

“Another month max. It’s student housing, they’re going to kick us out once the semester starts.”

“Running out of time.”

Lance sighed. “It’s not like we haven’t been trying. Each one we applied to just gets taken right from under us.”

“Maybe it has to do with how you present yourselves,” Adam said with a bored expression.

Lance shook his head. “We always shower before and wear nice clothes. We make sure we look responsible and put together.”

Adam hummed. “Maybe they just want couples.”

“What?”

“Like married couples? Some studies have started to look at that.”

“They legally can’t discriminate like that.” Lance downed his other drink.

Adm shook his head. "They actually can." He stared at the other boy for a moment before sighing. "Look,” he placed the glass he was polishing down. Placing his hands on the countertop, the towel draped on his right shoulder. “I moved in with my fiance after our engagement. Our other friends did the same. So I’m not sure what your experience is but we didn’t have any place to turn us down. And neither did our friends.”

“Way to rub it in my face, I'm single.” He slid the cup to Adam. “If I ever get engaged I’ll keep that in mind.”

Adam grabbed his glass, “fake it.”

“What?”

“You and your roommate, fake it. Just for the sake of finding a place.”

Lance stared at his bartender. Slowly blinking a couple of times. “I’m sorry, did you get drunk instead? What are you saying?”

Adam sent him a small smile, “where did you get confused?”

Lance laughed. “My roommate would never be okay with that.” He stood, fishing for $20 out of his wallet. “We’ll find a place. By next week. We’ll have a place.”

---

One Week Later

“Any updates?” Adam slid two shots toward Lance and Hunk.

Hunk sent him a smile while Lance quickly downed his drink. “Two more rejections.”

Adam whistled, “New weekly record?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Lance crossed his arms and rested them on the table. Dropping his head on them. “It's hopeless, we’re going to be homeless at this rate!”

“Take a breath man, you two will find something.” Hunk rubbed Lance’s back, trying to soothe his friend.

“Easy for you to say, you and Shay scored a place months ago,” Lance grumbled back.

“I don’t know what we did differently,” Hunk said. Sounding a bit exasperated. A conversation they had numerous times.

Lance looked at Adam who was giving him a knowing look. “Nope nope nope,” he lifted his head. Pointing his finger at the man behind the bar. “Don’t even suggest that again.”

“Suggest what?” Hunk asked.

“What does Shay have that neither you nor your roommate has?” Adam sent a smile toward Lance.

Lance mumbled out an answer.

“I’m sorry what?” Adam leaned forward slightly.

Lance sighed. “A ring.”

“Three for three,” Adam said, leaning back some while crossing his arms.

Lance sighed, “I need another drink.”

---

“No, absolutely not.” Keith crossed his arms, sending Lance a stern look.

“Come on mullet! It’s just pretending.”

Keith stared at his roommate, his face unchanged. “No.”

Lance threw his hands in the air in frustration. “It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“I’m not pretending to be married to you.”

“Engaged.”

“Right…engaged. Because there is such a difference.” Keith scoffed.

“There is.”

They both fell into a stiff silence. Neither of them dared to break it. Lance chewed on his inner cheek, his hands fidgeting by his upper thighs. Keith stared at the floor, his feet hanging off his bed. Lance sighed, “Keith, buddy, my man. It could work, we can just try it-”

“No,” Keith slid off his bed. He moved to slip on his shoes. “Don’t bring that idiotic idea up again.” He left the room with a slam.

Lance sat on his bed and mumbled under his breath. “We’re never going to find a place.”

---

One Week Later

Keith stormed into the room, curses being sputtered quietly. Lance sat up, lifting his headphone off his right ear. “Yo, what got you pissed off?”

The other boy fished his phone from his pocket. Shoving it in Lance’s face. A rejection email meeting his blue eyes. Lance groaned. “We’re running out of options.”

Keith took his phone away and paced the room. His hands found a home in his hair. “We only have two weeks left, what are we going to do?!”

“Well-”

He stopped and pivoted towards Lance. “No.”

Lance raised his hands in the air, “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You were thinking about it.”

"Keith,” Lance stood from where he was laying. “What do we have to lose?”

“My pride,” he mumbled as he flopped on his bed. Sighing as he stared at the ceiling.

“You lost that long ago.”

Kieth scoffed. “When?”

Lance raised his eyebrows at him as if the answer was obvious. “Ah-hem. One word, six letters.”

“Stop-”

“M U L-”

“STOP!”

“L E T. MULLET-” Lance sat up from his bed, Keith following suit.

“I don’t have a mullet,” Keith ran his fingers through his hair. Yanking at the long locks, a groan of annoyance escaped his lips.

“Sure buddy,” Lance sent him a tense smile.

Keith dropped his hands, “how would it even work? Pretending to be…together.”

Lance giggled. “You don’t have to sound so scared of the idea.”

“I don’t like intimacy.” Keith crossed his arms over his chest. Trying to keep his posture stoic.

“Keith my man. My buddy,” Lance stood and took a couple of steps to his roommate's bed. Sitting down next to him, casually throwing his arm over his shoulder. He pulled him closer so his head was almost forced to rest on Lance’s shoulder. “It’s not real. That’s why it’s ‘fake.’ All we have to do is say we’re engaged, and make up some ‘this is where we met’ story. Which, we can say we met at in college-”

“We did,” Keith mumbled.

“See! One step is already done. You’re so smart.” Lance squeezed him tighter, raising his voice into a mushy tone.

“Lance!”

He laughed and loosened his hold. “We can use our actual friendships as the timeline for our relationship. Maybe get a fake ring for one of us and let me do the talking. No kissing, at least on the lips, and holding hands and hugs are the max we will do around others. It’s not torture, it’s just pretend.”

Keith didn’t reply, his breathing low and evening. He was mulling it over. Weighing the pros and cons as if his life depended on it.

“Take the night and consider it? I’m meeting Hunk for dinner.” Lance made his way to the door, grabbing his signature green jacket as he slipped his shoes on. “Later, Mullet.” He twisted the handle, reaching for his keys as he opened the door.

“We can try it.”

“Hm?” Lance froze, his eyes falling on Keith.

Keith sighed, his eyes burning the ground. “We can try it. But only for a week.”

Lance grinned. “See you later then…. Babe.” He closed the door, not missing Keith’s groan of regret.

---

“All of the appliances are brand new, top of the line. It comes with both a washer and a dryer. All utilities are included in the rent. Any pets are an additional $25 a month each and each apartment comes with two numbered parking spots. Any additional vehicles just need to park in the uncovered lot.” The girl, Nyma, stopped in the kitchen. Placing her binder on the white marble countertop.

“This is really…wow this is gorgeous.” Lance walked through the living room once more, leaving Keith in the kitchen. “Babe, what do you think about it?” He glanced toward Keith who was staring out one of the windows. “Baby?”

Keith’s eyes snapped to Lance, and a small blush formed on his face before he cleared his throat. “It’s perfect.”

Nyma looked between them, her eyes gleaming. “Are you two interested?”

Lance nodded excitedly as he made his way over to his friend. “My fiance and I have been looking for a place for months but none of them have come close to this.” He intertwined their hands together, his thumb unconsciously rubbing along the backside of Keith’s hand. Unaware of the tension Keith held in his body over the touch.

“How long have you two been together?”

Keith froze, but Lance took charge. “Four years together, but one year engaged.” He sent Keith a smile who nodded.

Nyma grinned, moving to open her binder. “Let me talk you through the application.”

They were approved that night.

-----

I'm aiming for a biweekly update, but I do work full time so I write when I have energy <3

I hope you liked it

Thank you for reading <33333

[scudevils]

Just a question as a follower as your most recent post are you still writing things about Lewis? Who is friends who Elon Musk, who an employee reported for sexual assault and discrimination and Brad Pitt who assaulted his wife and children? And Carlos who has said racist and homophobic things in the past and hunt animals? Or Lance after his comments in the presser today? (Note I’m a fan of these drivers and don’t particularly even like ricciardo but the morality Olympics is astounding here)

*tw sexual assault*

hey lovely thank you for the ask! i actually do not write for lewis (nor have i), or lance anymore (and when i did, i hadn’t written anything for him anyway), and i haven’t written for carlos or f1 in general in a while (in fact im practically retired in that aspect).

i don’t believe it to be the “morality olympics” rather than men in privileged positions not using their voices to speak out on issues that actively involve them AND people they are associated with, and as a collective we are allowed to call them out for it. i am allowed to feel uncomfortable as a women, and i am able to speak out against these men who have shown they have no basic respect for women in their sport, especially those in vulnerable situations, like we’ve seen recently.

i’d like to also say that disregarding what you’ve said about lewis (and you are more than right to say that), he is the only driver that i have personally seen to have sympathy towards the victim in this situation.

also as much as i shouldn’t have expected more from these privileged men, i did, especially those who have sisters, wives, daughters, and ALL who have mothers. men shouldn’t need a relationship with a woman to have empathy towards us, that is what i meant with my hulkenberg comment.

i’d also like to mention, like i’ve said before, these are rich, privileged, mostly white men who have never had to fight for their existence in the sport, or the world, they are NOT a beacon of hope as we’ve seen time and time again with their politics because no matter how we like to paint them in the media, in fanfiction, its all a farce.

so excuse me, as a women who has dealt with sexual harassment and assault in what i considered my SAFE SPACE, just as i assume that red bull worker did too, i don’t feel comfortable writing for a man who have shown his ignorance more than once in the past.

daniel ricciardo is no saint, lance stroll is no saint, even lewis hamilton is no fucking saint and thats only looking at the ones you mentioned, lets not even get into the other drivers.

[blackjackkent]

Into the control center!

I don't know what I expected it to be like, exactly. Lots of control panels, some steampunk shit, perhaps. Mad scientist bubbling and lightning arcs everywhere.

What we actually get is a bunch of ominous whispering in the air and a bunch of brains floating in tubes.

Because of course we do.

Interacting with it, apparently, connects us to one of the Watchers out in the city.

Narrator: A parasite stirs within the pickled brain, twitching. As your mind connects, you feel yourself become strong, powerful. Metal. You are a Steel Watcher charging through the streets in pursuit of a young girl. She is screaming.

Well. That's fucked up. But on the bright side, Hector can try to influence it through the connection.

[WISDOM] Try to trip the Steel Watcher.

(A/N: DC 25, basically impossible even with Hector's high WIS. :( )

Narrator: The parasite is too strong, and you can only watch as the little girl rounds a corner... to find a dead end. She cries for her mother as you draw your lance, raising it above your head. You are kicked from the infected brain as the lance comes down.

...Oh, shit. Hector... really, really, REALLY did not like experiencing that.

-------

As Karlach and the others look on, Hector's head twitches sharply to one side, the connection with the brain taking him over. For a few seconds he is deadly still, and then his eyes widen to show the whites and his fists clench at his sides.

"No--" he begins to mumble. "No-- no-- no, don't-- DON'T-- NOOO!" He screams, lashes one hand out sideways, and then there is a sudden burst of energy from the apparatus that sends him crashing backwards into the wall. With a soft groan of pain he slides to the floor, trembling all over.

"Hec!" Karlach is at his side in an instant, one arm around his shoulders, steadying him. "Gods-- what happened? Are you all right?"

He stares past her shoulder with a haunted expression; all the blood seems to have drained from his face. "I tried to stop it... I tried... I wasn't strong enough, and it-- oh, gods, it was just a little girl..."

He is breathing so quick and shallow that for a moment she thinks he is going to pass out. She shifts to grab his face in both her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Hey. Hey-- stay with me, soldier. Stay here with me." She casts her mind around into memories of their past conversations. "Like you taught me, right? Two beats to the breath... steady... stay with me..."

He swallows, struggles to find his control, to follow her instructions and breathe more steadily. One of his hands grips her arm like a lifeline.

Jaheira crouches on his other side, her expression tight with concern. "You saw something, cub?" she murmurs. "What did you see?"

He gulps down another breath of air, rocks his head back against the wall. Slowly the paralyzing adrenaline begins to fade and he's able to speak, and his words send a chill of horror through them all. "These brains, they're... each of them leads to one of the Watchers. I-- I was inside it, looking out of it, but I couldn't control it. It... it killed a little girl, she was screaming for help and no one came... I couldn't stop it..."

Jaheira frowns sharply; her eyes flick up to Minsc, whose eyes are flaring with bright anger at the tale.

"These metal monsters target children on the street?" the Rashemaar rumbles. Karlach feels a slight shiver go through her at the deep rage underlying the words; she has heard stories of Minsc's moments of true fury but not yet had occasion to see it for herself. "Minsc and Boo shall see this Gortash's head torn from his body and Boo shall use his skull for a wheel!"

"A man of greater cruelty I have rarely seen," Jaheira agrees grimly. "I am not sure even Irenicus discriminated so little." She stands sharply. "We must press on, Carlisle," she says - the tone more gentle than the words. "More will die if we do not stop these abominations."

He nods unsteadily. It takes all the effort he is capable of, but he draws a hoarse breath, lets it out heavily, and forces himself to calm, to control and inward stillness. There is no time for him to lose himself now. But the girl's scream is still echoing in his mind, and there is helpless rage and despair sitting so near within him if he lets himself slip.

"Come on, Hec," Karlach says softly. "I'm with you. Let's go." She tips her head forward as if to brush her lips to his temple, but he shakes his head once, sharply.

"If you kiss me," he says, "I really won't be able to hold it together." She can hear the effort that is going into his control now, an effort she has never heard there before; she has rarely seen him so shaken.

She nods. She can understand that. She knows what it is like to be so buried in harsh reality that a touch of softness would snap it to pieces.

"Later then. For us both," she answers. "On your feet, soldier. Let's move."

[tangledbea]

Same anon back from the coronation dress q, wondering how you'd rate Corona's overall progressiveness throughout the show, on a scale 1-10? Like how people who are outside the stereyotypical western norms based on sexuality, race, etc. were treated treated. I imagine it was improved after Rapunzel and to a latter extent Eugene started to take over (post series) but still.

I've been trying to wrap my head around this question all day because there is zero evidence that there's racism, sexism, anti-LGBTQ sentiment, etc within the world of Tangled. (With the creators? Sure. But that has no bearing on the world views in-universe.)

The POC in the series being designated to support characters and villains doesn't mean that's how the world sees them, or that they're discriminated against because of their race. No one's sexuality is ever made explicitly clear, nor is it spoken against. Corona is permitted to have a ruling queen, rather than a ruling king, and we're not seeing any gender-based blocks as far as careers go. (I am not one of the people who thinks that Cassandra was held back from being a guard because she was a woman -- after all, the few times she was allowed to be a guard, there was already armor in her size and *ahem* shape, and I can't imagine that it was specifically made for her on the off-chance that she might hold guard duty at some point.)

If there is one that Corona assuredly has, it's classism. The merchant class and higher all adore Frederic, but he came down so super hard on the criminals, who are assuredly lower class. And to that end, I 100% believe that Rapunzel sets systems in place to help at the bottom and work its way up.

I believe she sets up free schools and apprenticeships for orphans so that they can get a proper education, which will give them a leg up into getting a job once they age out of the system and give them more options than thievery or death. And I believe Eugene (and Lance) give her a lot of input and insight into what orphans are lacking so that she can set up a good system.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

If The World Was Ending I'd Wanna Be Next To You.

by sillyseaaal Dick Grayson is a good student, great even. But despite all the years spent in one of NYC's best schools, he has never been appreciated by the other students. How come the new guy is already loved by everyone as soon as he arrived ? Roy Harper is a good student, great even. After the last difficult years, he's finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel that represents NYC. Everyone likes him at his new school but who is that guy who's been sending death glares all morning ? Is that why everybody seems to hate him ? --- or : high school dickroy AU has been living in my head rentfree for weeks so Im taking anyone who wants down with me Words: 1977, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Titans (Comics), Green Arrow (Comics) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: M/M Characters: Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Tim Drake (DCU), William Cobb (DCU), Donna Troy, Wally West, Garth (DCU), Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance, Bruce Wayne, Original Characters Relationships: Dick Grayson/Roy Harper, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, William Cobb (DCU) & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Donna Troy, Garth & Dick Grayson & Roy Harper & Donna Troy & Wally West, Roy Harper & Oliver Queen, Roy Harper & Dinah Lance, Dinah Lance/Oliver Queen, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Bart Allen & Tim Drake & Cissie King-Jones & Kon-El | Conner Kent & Cassie Sandsmark Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff and Angst, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt Roy Harper, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobia, Slow Burn, Protective Oliver Queen, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Getting to Know Each Other, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Discrimination, Other Additional Tags to Be Added via https://ift.tt/t32PsO5