#fuck you dc learn how math works

[oifaaa]

Made up a reason for myself that tim doesn't age because of shenanigans when he went looking for Bruce when he got lost in time. Makes no sense but keeps me sane a little 👍

See I just say Tim is a chronic liar (bc you know he is) so he's just keeps saying he's 17 years old bc if people find out he's actually 19 they're also gonna ask questions like "what are you doing with you're life?" "Got a job yet?" "Why are you fighting with a twelve year old?"

[tomwambsgans]

so i've assumed for the longest time that 2x7 must take place in march of 2020 because in 2x9 DC, gil refers to march 12th as the night that tom sent greg the "can't make a tomlette" emails, and of course a deleted scene from that episode is the only time we would have ever seen that phrase mentioned otherwise. it also makes complete sense, narratively, to essentially do a little fakeout: "tom, is [the date that you burned the documents] significant to you?" "nope! (feeling confident bc there's no proof of him having done that on that day)" "well that's the day you sent all these batshit emails, and how i know for certain you are well acquainted with greg hirsch." "uh oh"

ntm the fact that it makes a lot of sense as a character choice for tom to specifically send greg that email over and over again on the night that he's kinda trying to punish greg, and where he's probably totally unable to sleep.

anyway, there's a But incoming... i fucking wish there wasn't, but. somehow i've only just now realized that in DC, gil refers to the thanksgiving of 1x5 as "last year." which would indicate that it's still 2019, and therefore the march 12th he's referring to should be a day very close to tom's wedding. and, admittedly... it's not totally out there that tom's initial reason for coining the phrase was because he learned about the Greg The Egg nickname, from shiv having told him after hearing it from caroline. hell, maybe it was when they first started at ATN and it was tom's anxiety spilling out to match greg's Principles.

obviously it's a lot of personal bias that mainly makes me not want this to be the case, like... the sheer amount of fic i've written just confidently using the timeline where a year has passed in the first 7 episodes of season 2, which would be fucked to hell if i accept that DC is in 2019 lol

however..... it IS pretty undeniable that at least a year passes in season 2. do the math: exactly 2 years between the pilot and 4x1. ~5 months pass in s1. 2 and a half weeks pass between 2x9 and 3x5 (according to frank). the rest of s3 takes place - MOST LIKELY - over the course of no more than 4 months. about 3 months pass between s3 and 4, based on knowledge of shiv's pregnancy. and no gaps between seasons otherwise... that's a year left. there HAS to be at least one months-long timeskip somewhere in there. and it's always seemed very plausibly to be between tern haven and argestes, given the notion of pierce "fucking them about." for the longest time i've even specifically imagined argestes as being after the holidays and in january of 2020, partially bc that's convenient for why any notion of logan's 81st bday, the recny ball of 2019, and the holidays are all completely missing. the holidays would also be a good excuse on pierce's end not to rush a deal, and finally, i took into account the weather in that episode.

frankly, i consider the climate heavily when i'm working out the timeline of a show. especially this one. if they wanted to make it plausibly deniable what time of year it was, they'd set the episode indoors. or they'd pick a different part of the world for the roys to visit. and in the season 2 finale, they're on a yacht and explicitly swimming in the mediterranean. it's VERY unlikely that they'd be comfortable hanging around in swim trunks and swimming in those waters if it was any time between october and march. going off of that... if s3 begins in late 2019 as opposed to april/may of 2020, then caroline sent out her wedding invitations no less than 6 months early.

basically it's split between this:

what gil said has more weight. we can assume that the seemingly conflicting weather is a metatextual flub to be ignored. DC is in 2019, the emails were around the time of the wedding, and the huge timeskip containing the holidays is in s3 which also means that caroline sent out her invitations very early

settings and characterizations have more weight. we can assume either that gil misspoke or that it's a metatextual flub to be ignored. DC is in april of 2020, the emails were sent during The Return, and the huge timeskip was in s2 and took the holidays of 2019 with them

[saucy-sassy-sparkly]

Pursuit of Happiness

1: Meet the Littlemans

Pairing: Chris Evans x Kat Littleman (OFC)

Summary: New England political daughter Kat Littleman is constantly showing up for her mother’s campaigns, playing the part of the perfect daughter in the perfect, American family. When her paths cross with Chris Evans while he canvases DC to build out ASP, she’s forced to face some truths about herself, her family, and her future.

Word Count: ~7k

Warnings: Chris is a bit of a horndog. Lots of swearing, alcohol, sex talk, politically charged topics, chaotic families

Note: Despite spending a lot of my formative years in and around DC, I know absolutely nothing about politics or how things work on The Hill. This also runs the risk of dipping into some political topics (hopefully not heavily, but certainly some commentary and references). If that could trigger you, please avoid this.

Series Masterlist

1: Meet the Littlemans

“It’s navy blue with a hot pink luggage strap around it.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the agent’s voice was distant as she sorted through the lost luggage around her, “it isn’t here. I’ll add you to our list. Can I get a name and phone number?” She didn’t even bother to force a smile at Kat as she returned to her computer and started to click buttons, presumably opening up the never-ending list of people whose luggage had been lost by United Airlines.

Kat rattled off her name and number, muttered a quick “thanks” to the agent who had already turned to the next customer, and wrestled with her tote bag over her puffy winter jacket. She shuffled through the hubbub of Dulles baggage claim and made her way to the sliding doors and the waiting arrivals pick-up.

The doors wooshed open and the blustery November air hit her straight in the face, sending her hair flying around her and sticking in her chapstick. Kat stopped abruptly to rummage through her bag and find her beanie, yanking it firmly on her head, and returning to scanning the waiting cars for her father’s huge SUV.

After pacing the sidewalk to the end of the waiting cars, Kat finally reached for her phone in the back of her jeans pocket and groaned when she realized she hadn’t even powered it back on. Being the rule-follower she was, if the flight crew asked that you turn off devices, she dutifully turned all of her devices off and sowed them for the flight. In the chaos at baggage claim, she’d forgotten to turn it back on.

As the screen lit up in her hands, she saw the missed calls and then texts from her father. Or rather… her father’s assistant, Ted. Why a former NFL tight end turned garden fanatic even had an assistant was unfathomable to Kat, but nonetheless she put the phone to her ear and listened to Ted’s voicemail.

“Hi Kathrine, it’s Ted. Ted Brown, Tim’s–err– your father’s assistant that is. I’m calling to let you know that your father tried to pick you up when your flight was scheduled to arrive, but once he learned it was delayed, he came back to the townhouse. He sends his apologies and looks forward to seeing you tomorrow at the gala.”

Clicking over to the texts and finding herself unsurprised to have four texts from Ted, all with the same general message and one with a link to the Uber app (thanks, Ted), and even one from her father that read: Sorry KitKat, Giants/Cowboys game was kicking off!

“For fuck sake, Dad…” she muttered before shoving her phone back in her pocket; Kat then turned to the taxi stand and was grateful there were several waiting. She poured herself into one, gave the driver her hotel address, and sank back into the seat to start doing the math:

It was currently 8:37p. By the time she got to the hotel, checked in, and to her room, it would be at least 9:15p– after a 12-hour travel day that should’ve only been 4 thanks to snow just about everywhere she was exhausted and would likely pass out after shoveling in a granola bar and water bottle from the mini bar. She had to be at a brunch with her mother at 10a Ambar, then was expected to pop over to the townhouse and visit with her father before going back to the hotel to get ready for the gala at 7p. That left her about four hours to find a black tie gown– not to mention something to wear to brunch, clean underwear, and makeup– to replace the one that was lost in the bowels of Dulles International Airport.

She fired off a quick “finally made it, talk tomorrow” text and watched the snowflakes hit the window of the cab and the lights of downtown rush by as the car took the slick streets way too quickly. But, Kat was too tired to care. She’d arrived at the airport with plenty of time for her preflight ritual: a cup of overpriced coffee and 40 minutes to read a smutty novel. She’d watched the big red “delayed” letters flash up on the departure screen once, then twice. After the fourth time, the gate agents stopped giving excuses over the intercom and just started to apologize.

Her flight finally boarded only to sit taxing for another 45 minutes before taking off for the less than two-hour flight. The 7:15p landing had then become an extra hour between waiting for the luggage carousel, discovering her bag was not coming and then hunting down the missing luggage desk.

Tim deciding to bail on pick-up and have his assistant call for him– that was the most consistent part of her day. Tim Littleman was, first of all, the opposite of his name. He was 6’4 but claimed to be 6’6, and had filled out since his professional days when Kat was a kid, but he was still fit and trim for a man in his late 50s. Tim also loved his kids but he loved football just a little bit more, even after being out of the game for years, it wasn’t a surprise– although always a disappointment– when he picked a football game over a drive to the airport with his youngest child.

Kat paid and tipped the driver and tumbled out of the car and into the infamous Watergate Hotel– her mother’s favorite spot to put Kat up for the night when she visited. Mallory always insisted it was to make life easier for Kat; as a 31-year-old, she’d obviously want her privacy from her parents when she was visiting! Over the years, Kat had stopped rolling her eyes or even bickering with her mother and had instead accepted a free stay in a balcony suite overlooking the Potomac River.

As expected, she passed out almost immediately and woke up with a start to her alarm sounding at 7:45a. The morning passed in a blur, sprinting to the nearest Zara for a quick brunch outfit to meet with Mallory and several of Mallory’s WASPy DC friends, then back to the hotel to shower and change, then back out again for brunch where her mother barely interacted with her and then headed back to her office while Kat went to the townhouse for coffee with Tim to discuss the prospects in his greenhouse garden back in Connecticut, and then back out shopping again. With only an hour to spare, she’d found a dress and pumps for the black-tie gala– an event to raise money for some important cause her mother only vaguely mentioned in her email requesting Kat’s attendance.

She was actually quite pleased with the last-minute find feeling confident when she’d examined herself in the mirror, and it fit all of Mallory’s qualifications which were: black tie appropriate, black or navy, and tasteful.

Kat used the polished metal reflection of the elevator doors to check herself one more time, smoothing down the black fabric and tossing her hair over her shoulder. The sound of the event met her ears before the doors slid open: laughter, clinking glasses, and quiet music. When she stepped out onto the plush carpet, she saw several familiar faces immediately and offered small waves and smiles while she studied the sea of people for one of her parents.

“Kathrine,” a perfectly manicured claw wrapped around Kat’s bicep signaled Mallory before she pulled her daughter around and closer to the nearest wall, “what are you wearing?”

“Hi, Mom, you look nice,” Kat deadpanned, bracing herself for impact as she took in her mother. Mallory was dressed in a perfectly tailored champagne number that was likely her typical Ralph Lauren. Her hair was pulled back in a tight French twist and she looked every bit the upper-crust Connecticut woman she was.

“This is highly inappropriate,” Mallory reached up and started to play with Kat’s hair, pulling it over her shoulders.

“I have no idea how to respond to that,” Kat bit back her urge to tell her mother that her dress looked like a wedding gown.

“Kathrine, this is just… it is far too sexy for this event.”

“This is the best I could do on short notice.”

“Short notice! You’ve known for months,” Mallory hissed at her daughter, dropping her voice so the women standing near them wouldn’t hear.

“Mom,” Kat huffed, “I told you at brunch that United lost my bag. I had to go out and get this today.”

“Right, right,” she waved at her daughter, still reaching out to maneuver her hair. “Well there is nothing we can do now,” she sighed and finally gave up before pushing her shoulders back.

Behind her was a ballroom full of political powerhouses– senators, congresspersons, aids, donors, and all the other powerful DC folks who liked to gather in rooms together and remind each other how important they are. Mallory had been working her way up the political world for years, starting on the Board of Education in Kat’s hometown (not that Mallory Littleman would’ve ever sent her children to public school, even in their wealthy town) and now just after her second election as a state senator. Hence, Kat’s summons to attend as part of the senator’s loving family. Kat hated these events… but showed up anyway.

Mallory huffed and dropped her hands to her hips, squaring her jaw at her daughter. “Don’t bring up your job.” This was a common command; never ever talk about work. Kat nodded dutifully.

“Yes ma’am.”

“And don’t mention your… that you… the…”

Kat cut her off and failed to contain her eye roll this time, “I won’t let anyone know that we’re not the perfect family.”

“Thank you,” she said curtly, still eyeing her daughter’s dress.

“Did that hurt,” Kat laughed, looking at the tight expression on her mother’s face after displaying gratitude for her daughter.

“Do not sass me, Kathrine. Tonight is a big deal. I need it to go well.”

Kat sighed, “yes ma’am,” and neglected to bring up the fact that Mallory said that for every political event to which she dragged her daughter.

Mallory ignored her, “you know who I need you to talk to?”

Kat nodded, “I was briefed by your aids. Which, by the way, I would’ve preferred to do with you than your 19-year-old college interns.”

“I mean they are hired to take things off my plate.”

“Where’s dad, Senator Littleman?”

“Kathrine,” Mallory’s tone was warning as she turned back to Kat, “please behave.”

“Promise, Senator, now I’m going to find Dad,” Kat pushed past her mother and started to move through the room, listening for her father’s loud laughter. Despite his faults, he was the far easier parent to be around. He was easy to talk to and could entertain a crowd: the perfect way to disappear in one of these large functions was to stand near Tim and let him relive his glory days to people who just oohed and ahhed appropriately in hopes that he would end up writing them some kind of donation check.

She spotted him across the room regaling a group of men. As she passed by familiar faces, she greeted them politely, engaging in small talk when necessary, and pushing her way closer and closer to Tim. When he caught a glimpse of her, his face split into a grin and he threw his arms wide, stepping between the men surrounding him, “There’s my KitKat!” He wrapped her in a hug, smothering her in his heavily applied Polo Blue. When he kissed her cheek and draped his arm over her shoulder, he turned back to the group, “Gents, this is my beautiful daughter Kathrine.”

Kat reached out her hand to shake with the shortest of the group, who introduced himself as Mark, “Kat is fine, it’s nice to meet you.”

Exchanging quick greetings with the other two, Joe and Chris, Tim quickly charged back in control of the conversation before she could say more, “Sweetheart, these boys are trying to get me to spend some money on them.”

Mark, or maybe it was Joe, jumped in with a laugh, immediately changing the narrative to describe the new political platform they were developing, but Kat had essentially stopped listening. She was too busy batting her eyelashes at Chris. He stood almost a head taller than her, his shoulders filling out his navy tuxedo in the most delicious way. His perfectly styled hair, his relaxed stance with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a beer– how refreshing; no one in DC admitted to liking something as lowly as beer, much less a Sam Adams.

He’d had been the last to introduce himself and their hands had lingered while Chris’s blue eyes blatantly trailed slowly down her body. She’d felt a blush rising in her cheeks when his eyes met hers again and a very brief but very smug smirk crossed his features.

Slowly he returned his focus to his colleagues and let them continue to explain their new venture, glancing at Kat now and then, who got caught staring back almost every time. She had to force herself to stare at Joe and Mark while they spoke, feeling Chris’s eyes trail over her skin.

As soon as she’d approached, Chris’s eyes had been immediately drawn to the skin of Kat’s thigh exposed in her dress. Most of the room was filled with an older crowd, the younger women in the room choosing much more conservative dresses for this event. Kat’s choice, with her shoulders, a hint of cleavage, and all that leg made Chris practically salivate. He’d been back and forth to DC for the last several months as he, Joe, and Mark tried to build a following and convince the political world to work with them; each time he was surrounded by women in pantsuits or blazers. The young aides usually wore their outfits slightly tighter, but it was still the same variations of cream, navy, and red work dresses… not that it had stopped him from spending some time getting to know a few of those women.

When the three men had entered the ballroom this evening, he’d been prepared with their usual speech, ready to network and subtly beg for support. He hadn’t been prepared to be adjusting his pants at the sight of this woman’s tight ass when she turned to hug her father. Chris didn’t even bother to scold himself; they’d been working all weekend, and more importantly, Kat’s eyes were drawn to him too.

Kat recognized Chris, albeit not immediately, but after several minutes of making eyes at each other while the people around them talked, it clicked into place that she’d seen some movies that featured his washboard abs and perfectly cut pecs. She watched his reaction when she tossed her hair over her shoulder, exposing her skin (and bumping her father’s hand, which briefly ruined her moment before regaining composure); his eyes moved across her collarbone and up her neck, settling a steady gaze back on her.

No one was paying attention to them anyway. Joe and Mark were chatting away and Tim was listening the best his ADHD and slightly narcissistic brain allowed him.

“Well boys,” Tim finally said, both literally and figuratively jolting his daughter back to reality with a shake of her shoulder, “that is a truly terrific pitch, but I’m the wrong one to give it to. Just didn’t have the heart to stop you. My wife, Mallory, is the politician in the family.”

As if summoned, Mallory’s voice called over Kat’s shoulder, “there you two are,” in a huff and appeared at her daughter’s side, putting more distance between Kat and Chris. Tim remade the introductions of the group and Kat didn’t miss the way Chris’s eyes stayed on her, not Mallory, when the three of them once again began to explain their idea.

This time, Chris did most of the talking, Joe and Mark only offering occasional additions, but he continued to flicker his eyes to Kat. Kat found herself more impressed; she’d assumed he was the Hollywood buy-in to get politicians' attention, not part of the actual brain power. She listened to him, adding her own questions as her mother did the same, and watched him get more and more animated as he rattled off what seemed to be a heartfelt passion project.

He finally paused when Joe took over explaining the technical side to Mallory and Kat allowed herself to look back at his stupidly handsome face; he lifted his beer towards her and raised his eyebrow, silently asking if she wanted a drink.

Kat started to nod when a well-dressed staff member approached and invited them to find their seats, dinner was being served. Chris spoke up before the group separated, “I’m going to grab another drink before I go to the table, can I get anyone anything?” He looked pointedly at Kat who started to speak when her mother spoke for her.

“What a lovely offer, but Kathrine and I don’t drink. Tim?” She turned to her husband, letting him give Chris his drink order, before wrapping her hand around Kat’s arm and pulling her away from the group towards the clusters of tables without a goodbye.

“Kathrine, don’t even think about it,” she hissed, staring at the place cards on a long table and searching for theirs. She reached across Kat, snatched all three off the table, pulled Kat towards table 4, and continued, “I knew this dress was too much for tonight.”

“What are you talking about, Mom?”

“I saw the look on your face and that boy's. Don’t you dare.”

They’d reached the table and Mallory immediately dropped Kat’s arm, circling to say hello to their companions. Kat tucked herself into the nearest chair and immediately moved for the bread basket, perking up when she discovered the rolls were still warm. Mallory perched on the chair next to Kat, still in conversation with another one of DC's most powerful people whose name Kat could never remember… nor ever tried to.

Tim joined them shortly, sliding into the chair on Mallory’s other side and calling a loud, “see you boys later,” and toasted them as Joe, Mark, and Chris walked away. Kat’s eyes flickered up to catch Chris’s, offering a coy smile to his nod.

“That is what I’m talking about,” Mallory was back in her ear, using her butter knife to gesture at Chris’s broad, retreating back.

“Mother, relax, I just smiled at him.”

“You think I was born yesterday? That was not just a smile.”

“You do realize I’m 31 years old, right? And it is perfectly acceptable to smile at a man or even, god forbid, flirt with him.” Kat’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she spread her napkin on her lap.

“I don’t care how old you are, you reflect my campaign and my values every time you’re seen with me. If there are pictures of you kissing Captain fucking America, it is a direct reflection of me.”

“Literally no one cares who your adult daughter kisses.”

“You don’t think it comes up every election? You don’t think that you and your brother and… Do you know how much of my staff it takes to be sure that our family doesn’t get our business blasted across headlines?”

“I wish you realized how much America did not care about my sex life or Ben’s,” Kat reached for her ice water and sipped slowly, wishing it was a vodka tonic, and glanced at her mother’s furrowed brow, “Careful, Mom, your Botox doesn’t like when you frown.”

Mallory huffed and leaned away to start speaking to Tim, whispering frantically at him and casting sidelong glances at Kat. Kat, however, leaned back in her chair and allowed the woman next to her– a Congressman from Minnesota’s wife– to share all of the details of the grandchild her daughter was expecting. Kat had to bite her tongue while she listened to the several-minute monologue about how silly she found it that some people wouldn’t want to buy gender-specific baby clothes anymore. She let the woman talk, as she did most of these people, and let her mind wander, only staying focused enough to offer the occasional, “you don’t say” or “wow, that’s incredible.”

She truly loathed these events. She’d lost track over the years of how many she’d shown up to, how often her mother trotted her out like a prized pony to amplify her mother’s strong family value platform before being sent back home to her normal life. Each time it came with an all-expenses paid plane ticket and hotel, several– usually public to avoid real conversation– visits with her mother, at least one major political fundraiser/gala/rally/etc., and then a quick and once again public goodbye from Mallory before the whole ordeal was over.

Kat knew she could stop coming, stop being hassled by her mother and used as a pawn, she knew that she could and certainly should stop saying yes and start saying no. Ben always reminded her that no was a complete sentence.

Ben.

Ben had stopped coming to these the second he moved out of the house, right about the same time that Mallory and Tim–mostly Mallory– had refused to acknowledge that Ben might not actually be the preppy, lacrosse-playing womanizer he was bred to be and was instead questioning all parts of his identity. He’d moved to Vancouver for a job, and met a wonderful man, Kevin, who Kat adored and had never looked back.

Kat missed him terribly, even after almost 10 years of living several time zones apart, and looked forward to their annual September trip together. They’d meet somewhere each year to celebrate their birthdays… four days and four years apart… together, often surrounded by other people they loved but never ever with their parents.

Kat couldn’t actually remember the last time the four of them shared the same air. It had to have been a holiday while Kat was still in high school and Ben was home from college for a break. She knew that he occasionally emailed Tim or exchanged a quick phone call, but that Ben hadn’t spoken to their mother since the day he’d graduated from college. At their celebration dinner, he’d handed her a check and said, “I won’t owe you anything ever again,” and flown to Canada the next morning. Kat had been devastated but she knew what it was like for Ben to grow in their house. She knew the best thing for him was to put the Canadian Border Patrol between him and Mallory.

Ben was her rock, one of her favorite humans, and her constant reminder that she was a pawn in Mallory’s system and needed to get out before people started to think she actually supported their mother’s platforms. That thought pulled her back into the conversation with the Congresswoman’s wife just in time to force a cheerful, “hurry back!” when she’d told Kat she needed to use the ‘little girl’s room’ and scurried off.

Kat took the moment to enjoy the silence and scanned the room. The sea of tables was tastefully if subtly decorated in muted tones and low centerpieces on each table to allow for conversation. There had to be at least 50 tables, each holding anywhere from 10-12 guests, all various members of wealthy DC society. The majority were politicians and their donor friends; a perk of donating thousands of dollars to a cause was getting to attend other functions for free as a ‘thank you for your support’… only to be expected to write a check at the end for whichever cause the evening endorsed.

Five tables away, she found Chris’s gelled hair and sharp jawline in profile while he laughed at something the woman next to him said. She allowed herself the moment to admire the imperfect slope of his nose, the way his smile showed all his teeth, and the way his biceps were visibly flexing even under his jacket as he lifted his fork to his mouth.

“He is very handsome, I’ll give you that,” Mallory leaned closer to her daughter, who had been actively ignoring her mother trying to catch her eye, “but do not embarrass me tonight, Kathrine.”

“And what would be embarrassing for you, Mom?” Kat sighed and looked at her mom.

Mallory paused, glancing at her husband who was deep in conversation, and back at Kat, “if you did something inappropriate with him.”

Kat grinned slyly, knowing how much her mother hated these kinds of conversations, “what do you consider inappropriate?”

“You know what I mean,” she huffed.

“I’m not sure that I do. Could you explain it to me?”

Mallory sighed heavily and waggled her finger, “do not go home with that boy.”

“He seems to be all man,” Kat countered, her eyes traveling back to Chris just to spite her frustrated, demanding mother. He was rising from the table and gesturing to his tablemates, seemingly taking drink orders.

“Kathrine Marissa Littleman,” Mallory’s voice dropped low and Kat knew she’d hit a nerve, “I do not need any gossip because of you, there has already been enough talk about everything else in our family.”

“There hasn’t been anything to talk about for years, Mom, please give me a break. I’m a grown-up.”

Mallory shot her one last look and stood from her seat, moving around behind Kat and towards an empty seat at the other side of the table to start working the room now that she’d finished her meal– it didn’t matter to her that no one else had.

Kat reached into her clutch and rifled around for a pen, finding one at the bottom, and slid her place card towards her. She folded open the thick cardstock and write inside it, closing it back up and slipping the pen back in her purse before whispering, “back in a bit,” to Tim, who waved his acknowledgment, and she moved through the room to the bar.

Chris leaned on the bar in front of her, chatting with the bartender as he gathered the drinks for Chris’s table. She took a deep breath and stepped beside him and ordered a vodka tonic from the other barkeep; her voice caught Chris’s attention, who leaned on one arm.

“Kathrine,” her name in his deep timbre sent a chill down her spine and a warmth filling her belly.

“Christopher,” she countered, throwing a smile over her shoulder at him.

“I see that ‘we don’t drink’ thing was bullshit,” he nodded to the drink she now took a deep swallow from.

“Just another politician making things up.”

He gathered the drinks from the bartender– another beer for him, a wine for one of his tablemates, and a scotch for Joe, and turned to her– “Gimme a second. Don’t move.”

Kat nodded and watched him strut away; she toyed with the place card in her hand. She flipped it open, looking at her handwriting on the inside, and looked back up at Chris, who was just arriving at the table. Throwing her shoulders back, she followed after him, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I thought you were waiting for me,” he said quietly, dipping his head low to talk to her.

“I changed my mind,” she smiled and slid her hand down from his shoulder, briefly across his bicep, and to grip his large hand. She squeezed, pushing the cardstock into his hands, and turned gracefully on her heels. She moved slowly, knowing he was watching her, and swung her hips ever so slightly as she made her way across the room to the exit closest to the elevator.

She entered it alone, letting the doors slide shut and giving her a chance to take a deep breath, and another gulp of her drink before the doors were opening again on her floor.

In her room, she finished off her drink and mixed a new one from the minibar, and then moved across the suite to stand at the sliding glass doors. Her heart was pounding in her chest with both anticipation and anxiety, knowing she could be stood up, but hoping she’d read him right. Several long minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door. Kat took her time to cross the room, finishing off her second drink on the way, and pulling the door open to Chris standing, both hands in his pockets, on the threshold.

“Hey you,” his crooked grin melted any nerves she had and she reached out, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the room; she shut the door after dropping the “do not disturb” sign on the handle and turning to face him.

“Drink?” She started to move around him towards the mini bar but he used their still connected hand to pull her to him.

“Maybe after,” his boyish grin was gone and replaced with a sexy smirk; he held their hands to his chest while his other hand reached up to her shoulder, pushing a few strands of hair off her neck. His fingertips trailed along her clavicle before coming to rest at the back of her neck and leaning towards her.

He slotted his lips over Kat’s, the kiss hovering for a moment in sweetness before his tongue swiped at her bottom lip and the movement shifted. Kat stepped closer to him, allowing his tongue to swipe against hers and pushing her chest into his while his hands covered all the planes of her body, squeezing her hips and her ass, trailing gentle touches up her arms and into her hair to hold her to him and continue the needy kiss. She slid her hands up his body and tugged at his bow tie, feeling grateful for making out with Miles Sharpton at cotillion who taught her how to untie a butterfly knot. Once it fell around his neck, she slid her arms under his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. Chris let it hit the floor and stepped away from it to push Kat– one hand on her hips, the other still grasping her neck— towards the dresser.

The backs of her thighs bumped the large wooden piece and she let herself lean against it while he pressed into her, his mouth now trailing her neck and his hands grasping at the back of her dress, pawing for the zipper. Kat pushed his chest away from him, his lips pulling from hers with an audible suction noise, and she panted to catch her breath while her fingers worked their way down the buttons of his shirt. Each one she popped open exposed more of his chest, undershirt, and, to her surprise, a smattering of dark ink that made her mouth water.

She leaned forward and kissed the exposed skin, while she continued her journey down to his belt. Kat tugged his shirt free from his pants and glanced up at him through hooded eyes to find him watching her. Chris’s hands were rubbing her shoulders, raising goosebumps on her skin and sending a fire straight to her core.

Her hands hovered on his belt buckle, slowing the momentum of the last several minutes but giving neither of them pause. Chris watched her, licking his lips and trying to decide which way he wanted her to come first. “Don’t stop now, baby,” his voice had dropped dangerously low and he cupped her chin in his hand, rubbing his thumb along her bottom lip, “or I’m going to take over.”

Kat blushed deeply but held his gaze; she felt her panties dampen even more with those few words and she finished unclasping his belt, whipping it out of the loops dramatically and winking at him when he chuckled. Slowly, agonizingly slowly for Chris, she popped the button of his trousers and then slid the zipper down, holding his eyes and watching his Adam’s apple subtly bob.

Keeping her eyes glued to Chris’s, she slid her hands under the waistband of his pants, still over his boxer briefs, and rubbed slowly down his length, then back up, then back down again, reaching all the way through to briefly caress all of him before dropping her eyes to see the hard bulge that seemed to just keep growing under her hand. When Kat looked away, he took the opportunity to close his and open his jaw, letting out a low groan when she squeezed him back and forth, teasing him, knowing that he wanted her lips on his cock but she wouldn’t give it to him just yet.

She continued her work, flicking her eyes back up at him and taking in the way his chest heaved and his eyes fluttered when she stroked him in just the right away. All this response and everyone still had their clothes on…

After more minutes of this agonizingly slow tease, Chris groaned and dropped his head to press his forehead into Kat’s and growled, yanking her upright and twirling her around. “It’s my turn to tease, Kitty Kat.” The impulsive nickname made Kat’s heart skip a beat but she shoved down that feeling and leaned back into his strong chest. He held her in his arms, one wrapped around her stomach, the other reaching towards her zipper, dragging it down slowly and his hand on her stomach pulled the fabric of the gown down just enough to expose her breasts. Both of his hands slowly slithered up her body to cup them in his palms, rolling her peaked nipples between his thumb and forefingers while he kissed her neck.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded between open-mouth kisses; one of his hands dropped her breast and used it to push her hair off her neck and expose her other shoulder, licking a stripe from the nape of her neck to her earlobe and planting a kiss behind her ear. Kat’s eyes flew open, surprised to find that he’d positioned them in front of the dresser mirror where his eyes were watching her reflection.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of her breasts exposed and being palmed by his large hands, Chris’s face kissing all across any exposed skin he could reach, all while never breaking eye contact. He leaned his weight into her and she felt his hard cock against her ass; she pressed her hips back into him, grinding against him and letting out a moan before closing her eyes again to enjoy all the sensations.

“Open,” he said again, his tone leaving no room for question. He pulled his lips away from hers and he stood to his full height behind her– even in her heels she was still inches shorter than him, “I want you to watch yourself.”

Kat nodded, not knowing what else to do and allowing herself to melt entirely into his embrace and his command.

His right hand left her breast and moved tantalizingly across her sternum, her stomach, and to the thigh-high slit in her dress. Chris bent forward slightly to pull the fabric up and allow him access to her lacy thong. He bunched the dress up the best he could, pushing as much fabric out of the way to expose her in the mirror and trace a finger along the top hem of her panties. His left hand still played with her breast and now, she grasped his right forearm, bracing herself against him and using her left hand to reach behind her and hold onto his hip.

Chris traced the edge of her thong again, dipping his finger under the elastic and then back out multiple times before finally sliding his hand all the way down to cup her core. He groaned into her ear as his pointer finger swiped through the wetness between her legs, “all this for me, Kitten?”

“Please,” she whimpered, bucking her hips against him in anticipation.

He hummed in agreement, nuzzling into her hair and pressing his finger into her entrance, slowly pumping in and out at a painfully slow pace. Kat dropped her head back on his shoulder, obediently keeping her eyes open to watch his hand move in the mirror. His thumb found her clit and pressed against it, moving just as slowly. She rolled her hips, trying to find more friction, more pressure, more anything, but he stilled his movements and tutted, “not yet, Kathrine.”

She whined and pushed her weight against his chest, nudging her nose against his neck and pressing messy kisses to his jaw. Her reward was a second finger pressed inside of her, slowly making a come hither motion while his thumb started to increase the pressure and pace on her clit. After more minutes of playing with her, he leaned in to kiss her lips muttering against her, “you ready, baby? You going to come now, sweetheart?” as he continued to increase the intensity and Kat’s hips moved to meet him. He pulled away from her lips, removing his hand from her breast to gently but firmly grasp her chin and turn her to face the mirror again, “watch, baby, c’mon,” he grunted, his hips now joining the fray, “c’mon, Kat, come for me, baby.”

Kat let out a strangled, semi-pornographic moan when her orgasm hit her hard, her ears ringing and her whole body shaking in Chris’s arms. He slowed his rhythm, working her over the edge and through the intensity, giving her a moment of reprieve while he kissed her shoulders, her neck, her cheek, and pulled her lips to his to give her a long, wet kiss.

“Do you have a condom,” she muttered against him, ready to feel him inside of her the moment his fingers slid out. He released her with a quick kiss, stumbling in his pants that were still undone and sagging toward his tuxedo jacket. He fished in for his wallet while Kat studied herself, still trying to catch her breath.

Chris appeared in the mirror behind her again, his hands falling to her hips and pulling the fabric of her dress up quickly. She helped him, letting the dress bunch at her hips, her breasts still exposed and now her ass as well. He stepped back from her and she watched him in the mirror.

He was palming himself in his shorts, one hand still on the curve of her hip and she arched her back slightly, giving him a more full view of her. Chris glanced up in the mirror to find her smirking; he stopped palming himself to tuck both thumbs in the waistband of her thong and drag it down her legs, helping her step out of it and tossing it somewhere in the dim room.

Still, on his knees behind her, his hands traced up her calves, the back of her knees, her thighs, as he rose to stand and smacked her ass, watching her flesh bounce. Feeling impatient, she wiggled at him, arching her back even deeper. He chuckled, “you’re ready for me, pretty girl?”

He met her eyes in the mirror and she bit her lip, nodding and watching him drop his boxer briefs. From her place in front of him, she didn’t have a good view but she listened to him snap on the condom and then mewed when he rubbed the tip of his cock through her arousal.

With one hand on her hip and the other pushing her neck to lean her closer to the dresser, he pushed into her without warning, causing Kat to cry out at the stretch. He stilled, kissed her shoulder, and waited for her to nod before he started a steady, deep rhythm, hitting the soft, spongy parts she so desperately craved. The salacious sounds of his hips meeting her ass, his grunts, and Kat’s sighs and moans filled the room quickly while he pounded into her, the pace ever increasing. Kat fumbled with her dress, trying to get to her clit. Chris moved his hand from her waist, still keeping one on her neck to hold her steady, and licked his fingers before reaching around her hips and quickly building another steady rhythm on her clit. Over and over again he thrust into her, circling her clit and groaning into her neck.

“C’mon, Kat, come for me again, let go, Kitten,” he growled while her velvet walls squeezed him tight, “I can’t hold on, come, baby,” he babbled, rocking his hips while her hips pushed back against him, chasing her release. It hit her quickly, making her legs shake and then wobble, struggling to support her weight. Chris finished with a moan drilling inside of her and draping his body over hers that was slumped against the dresser. He planted kisses on her shoulder, her neck, and then down the top of her spine before gently helping her come upright. Kat turned in his arms and slid into the dresser, letting her back lean against the mirror and lazily tugging her gown to cover her breasts just enough.

Chris snagged a few tissues from the nightstand and handed her some while he cleaned up and disposed of the condom in the trash can by the desk. He tucked himself back into his briefs and came to stand between Kat’s useless legs. He leaned forward and planted his palms on the dresser beside her legs to kiss her lazily, their tongues swiping at each other and showing no urgency.

Finally, Kat pulled back and reached up to push his hair back in place the best she could. “Your business partners will wonder where you went,” she whispered, giving him an out.

He raised an eyebrow at her, “what about that drink?”

“Next time,” she shrugged, sliding off the dresser knowing there would be no ‘next time’ and moving towards her shopping bags for the zip-up and leggings she’d bought today. Once they were in her arms, she turned back to Chris still standing there, pants around his ankles, and looking confused. “I’m going to take a shower,” she pressed up on her toes and kissed his lips once more before crossing in front of him and stepping into the large bathroom.

[libraryofgage]

how long have you been in fandom spaces?? and do you have any funny/weird stories about being in fandom?

Hi, anon!

So, I've been in fandom for a while. I first started reading fanfiction in junior high and began posting what I wrote in high school. My first fandom space was Hetalia (yes, it's cringe; yes, it's ironic considering I'm Jewish; no, I don't shy away from this part of my fandom past lmao) on ff.net

I wrote a few (like, ten or so?) x-reader fics that got flagged by the roving gangs of morality/ff.net guidelines police that haunted the site back in the day lmao

I've recently finished a master's program, so after doing math that took me way too long, I can say it's been about a decade for me in fandom spaces

Regarding funny/weird stories:

My go-to get-to-know-me story for any fandom server is the time I learned how to get into the Houston NASA base undetected via backroads (and just straight up driving through grass at one point) because a scientist there wanted a TV fixed by the company I worked for in high school (I was too young to work there, some child labor laws were def being broken but it was 10/hr so, like, fuck it we ball)

In my first year participating in the Tododeku Big Bang, I derailed the server for, like, over an hour if I remember correctly with a single question: does syrup go in the fridge or pantry after opening? This became, like, a full-blown debate; friendships were ruined, betrayals were discovered, and like half the people there gave the wrong answer. (it goes in the fridge, btw, and you can't change my mind :P )

In high school, I once got so desperate for fics that I turned to fucking Quotev and DeviantArt. If you know, you know, and if you don't, I wish I were you hfjdks I deserve a fucking purple heart

I took a class in undergrad where the big final was just to show that you'd been working on something creative the entire semester. Some people showed original comics they drew, others showed off websites for their poetry, one girl showed off a website for a DC Batman AU that she wanted to pitch to DC (I have her AO3 and her posting consistency is so admirable omfg). @amy-airheart took that class with me and can confirm: I wrote 50k in one week, wrote even more, and then presented my AO3 stats page as my proof of doing creative things during the semester. I think the total was like 80k or something. The professor asked what drugs I'd taken and where he could get some

That's everything I can think of for now. I'm sure there's something buried deep in my subconscious that I'll remember later, but I hope you found at least one of those amusing hjfkds

[gay-victorian-astronomer]

4! 16! 20! 39! :D

4. What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?

The most formal I need to get on a regular basis is academic conference attire, so like... business casual level of formality. My usual conference outfit is black chinos, a button up shirt whose print can only be described as space arcade carpet, and a black blazer with a pronoun pin on the lapel.

For more formal occasions, I don't actually own anything that works at the moment— in the past I would wear some type of long gown for those but subsequent Gender Realizations have made that intractable. I very badly want to get a proper suit, but I am having trouble finding an option that will have the details of men's suiting I want while still fitting nicely on my body while also not being super fucking expensive. My impending graduation might give me some motivation to figure something out though...

16. Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

Strangely I haven't been on a big hoodie kick lately— I've gone through pretty much this whole winter without really touching any of them, I've been blanket-burrito-moding instead. So I guess I'll talk about my favorite sweatshirt at the moment/one of the hoodies that's been with me the longest?

My favorite sweatshirt at the moment is one I got back in October as a free giveaway for seniors at my university. It doesn't have a hood and it's pretty plain except for a large applique of the university athletics logo on the front. I like it because I accidentally sized up more than I should have so it's pretty big and snuggly on me.

One of the hoodies that I've had the longest is a purple one from when I went to Washington, DC on a school trip in 8th grade. Most of my hoodies were purchased while traveling— for a while I had to wear a back brace for scoliosis and the brace would put holes in the backs of regular T-shirts, so whenever we'd travel I'd get hoodies as souvenirs because the thicker fabric would hold up better. That hoodie did in fact hold up— it was my favorite hoodie for most of high school because it was surprisingly thick and good quality for being an impulse purchase from a street vendor, and it was made out of pretty pill-resistant fabric, not to mention the fact that it's my favorite color.

20. What kind of math are you best at?

Going purely by my academic record, I'm generally pretty good at anything that doesn't require me to do proofs.

In terms of math I like doing, I think most parts of multivariable/vector calculus are pretty neat, and they are pretty strongly tied to physics. In a similar vein, doing boundary value problem stuff & solving partial differential equations is pretty nice as long as the problem isn't set up to be annoying as fuck (looking at you, applied boundary value problems homework sets)

Dishonorable mention goes to integrals. I am learning through taking quantum theory that I have very limited patience for dealing with integral bullshit (and there are some truly deeply bullshit integrals that have been thrown at me in that class). Evil little bastards that make my brain hurt >:(

39. What was the best part of your day today?

Not much immediately jumps out at me— I've been sick for the past couple days but I felt well enough to go to class today so it was a pretty normal Wednesday all things considered. My housemate ordered food for delivery at lunchtime and they gave me a spring roll they got as a freebie that they couldn't eat, so that was tasty. I'm debating whether to order delivery for dinner in which case that will also be a tasty treat (but we shall see).

[neurodiversebones]

I'm so attached to Cam it's unreal 🙈 I've been thinking of a couple of random headcanons for her that I may one day incorporate into a fic:

-Her parents wanted her to be proper and ladylike and enrolled her in piano lessons. She hated them, but she was very gifted at it, and to this day can sit in front of a piano and play a tune. She does this while out with the team and everyone is shocked.

-We all know she's very intelligent. I think it would be interesting if she was absolutely terrible at math. (Autistic imbalance of abilities.) When someone on the team asks her a "simple" math problem, she gets very flustered and defensive because she's embarrased.

If you have any of your own, I'd love to hear them! :3

CAM PIANO PLAYER I AM SOOO IN LOVE ??? i am so attracted to everyone who can play piano bc i play ten fucking instruments and yet i cannot play anything other than very simple chords on the piano LMAO

in extension to piano playing cam . she can read music very well but she just prefers to memorize it, and can do so very quickly. after practicing a piece a few times, she moves onto just doing it from muscle memory because it's easier to not have to focus on the page. autistic music girlies rise up !

BAD AT MATH CAM IS MY NEW FAV !!! she was really good at math as a kid until like partway through highschool when she just hit a wall and could not do it anymore and was so frustrated. it really impacted her self esteem because things like this had never been hard for her but it seemed impossible for some reason. she's still really insecure about it especially since she is by all accounts, a genius, and she works with other geniuses who are all so fast with math and numbers but she always trips over them and gets confused.

other random cam headcanons:

she cannot cook to save her life. cannot be bothered to learn because she is genuinely terrible at it and hates doing anything she's bad at. arastoo comes to her house and is like . why are your cupboards full of takeout menus and like ,,, four ingredients what the fuck ��� she doesn't give a fuck though and is like . "why would i learn to cook when we live in dc i can literally get any food i want in under an hour" . he just stares at her like ,,, how are you ALIVE

she DOES own a pair of crocs but they are only house shoes and arastoo is sworn to secrecy that he will NEVER tell ANYONE. they are comfortable and she is pro shoes in the house but NEVER outside shoes so they're perfect. she literally hides them when people come over.

speaking of shoes/clothes. cam absolutely has a walk in closet it was a Need when she was finding a place

fashion is a special interest of hers 💪 she got teased a lot for it when she was younger and even as an adult because what do you MEAN you're smart AND interested in "girly" things that doesn't work !! people sometimes judge her based on her appearance sometimes but she loves proving them wrong

[ramrodd]

COMMENTARY:

Their is a vital connection between Dr. McDonald's description of Homer as a gnostic cult in Plato's Cave and Molly Worthen's Resurrection epiphany , I didn't know this about Homer in these specific terms, but I'm not surprised. I have studied Number as a figure of speech since my freshman year at Indian University just before the draft call ups for Vietnam began in July, To say I studied it is far more systematic than what I actually have done, which is more like doing cross word puzzles,

I'm dyslectic, I am a charter member of DAM: Mothers Against Dyslexia, I didn't know what it was but a graduate student taking a freshman finite math course noticed it in conversation and suggested I learn how to do numerology as a method to mitigate the effect of dyslexia. And it helps. It makes me mindful of my thinking and behavior. For reasons that have to do with DC before the Reagan people fucked things up, I could have earned a comfortable living as a psychic counselor reading cards and doing numerology, Among other things, I was a disciple of a serious psychic for Richmond, Virginian, who was connected in various ways to Edgar Cayce

this stuff Jesus is doing in the Gospel of Mark is Wicca and, when I got back from Vietnam in 1971, DC is the place where the Woodstock Nation had determined to put down roots. It was the most racially mellow city in the world. The only thing more racially mellow in my experience was on a relay landing zone with a combat Battalion coming out of the woods and toking up with Jimi Hendrix going cross town, waiting for the slicks to come take us to a 5 day stan down.

So, all this New Age DEI Human Potential vibe was in the air and the only people who didn't share in the whole Jimmy Buffet/Chuck Brown/Bob Marley groove of it was the Plumbers and other white supremacists of the John Birch Society, I could have had a job in the Nixon White House but I was on a different career path, number one, and, number two, I didn't want to have to work with white supremacist thugs like Pat Buchanan and G. Gordon Liddy and Chuck Colson, Before the Reagan people came to town, they were largely avoidable, Since January 20, 1981, not so much,

In spite of Family Ties, it was never Kool to be Conservative. My point is that I know a lot about the numerology of the Bible that has a direct connection to what Dr MacDonald is talking about and what happened to Molly worthen, The problem with the Critical Historic Analysis of the Post Modern Historic Deconstruction is that both the Jesus Seminar and the Pro-Live Solo Scriptura Evangelicals ignores all these mechanisms of literature because you cannot find the DNA of Jesus in the dried up shit they dig out at Kur Qumran latrines.

Here's the insight I have to pass on : In terms of the numerology of the New Testament, Luke is wholly Homeric in origin: among other things: it has 24 chapters, the number of the letters in the Greek Alpha bet, just like the Iliad and the Odyssey, And it is my conviction that Matthew and Acts anticipates Mohammad, with 28 chapters, the number of letters in the Arabic alphabet.

And if you need an example of the Holy Spirit guiding the pen of any author in the 66 books of the Palestine Bible, the Gospel of Luke is had to beat.

[cascadianights]

Fuck being convinced to hate men because of the worst examples of them.

Fuck hating 50% of the population because of the way you assume they were raised.

Fuck trauma being exploited to feed into hate for a blanket group of people and separatist behavior.

Fuck acting like men are inherently unsafe monsters and being convinced that every shadow is a danger until nowhere feels safe and the real threats are lost.

Fuck acting like it's a fucking joke to love riding a cock or sucking a dick! Fuck acting like giant clits or little cocks or cut or uncut aren't all attractive as hell

My partner is gentle and soft and caring. He gives the best hugs, and cuddles. He's supportive and loving of everyone in his life, and he would do anything for the people he cares about. He was the quiet jock that would fight the bullies dumb enough to pick on people in front of him. He's quiet, but when he gets talking he'll lay out whole universes before you. People feel safe with him, I feel safe with him, the kids love him and they knock on our door and ask for us and the dogs to come out and play and he smiles and says yes even when he's exhausted. He understands math in an easy way I've never grocked, and he's hot as hell. I love his neck and forearms and biceps and stomach and hips and thighs. I love his confident smirk when he dominates me or makes me beg to come. I love the way he keens and moans and writhes when I make him beg instead.

My close friend (and ex) is one of the most masculine & straight men I know. He could pick me up and fuck me against the wall, and he can beat anyone in a fight bc he had to learn how to young, and he's let me twine flowers into his hair and he has the softest smile and even in our worst fights he never once used his size to tower over me. He showed me how to box, and he waxes romantic about queer and native philosophy and pedagogical theory while filling the walls of his home with color. He has 3 dog beds In His Car Alone for his senior dog that gets a monthly bath and 3 walks a day and anything his little heart desires. He spent a spring rescuing baby squirrels and he's spent evenings showing the next generation how to nurture controlled burns and whittle. He's an intellectual powerhouse that's working on indigenous CRT and a state bill and he tells the best stories and notices all the little things.

My best friend in high school was one of the most "popular" people in the grade, and he saw me looking lost and terrified on the first day of school and asked me to walk to homeroom with him. We used to ride bikes to the park and laugh and talk for hours on the swings. He put me in my place when I was being an asshole and he danced with me at homecomings and now he's out trying to save the world in DC. He's the only boy I was allowed to spend the night with, and we'd stay up all night playing video games and fall asleep on the couches. He always showed up, and he took me to Downtown Disney and the lights glittering in the dark for the first time. He's outspoken and funny and charismatic as hell.

Men are sexy! Men are gentle! Men are safe! It's OK to be queer as fuck and still love men. It's OK to acknowledge how many individuals suck or have done wrong by you without blaming an entire group. It's OK to want to be a man. It's OK to want to leave every bit of masculinity in yourself behind and still love it in others. It's OK to recreate what we prize as masculine.

Hating Men is a shortcut to hating parts of yourself & the people you love & a slippery slope towards TERFdom. It's OK to put it down.

[maybe-itll-be-someday]

After The Rain

For my beautifully bright friend, @sequinsmile-x. 

Happy Birthday, sweet girl. I’d only ever be able to pull 2.5k words out of my math riddled brain for you. 

Read on AO3

--

Aaron always did hate the rain.

The rain always meant that he would have no choice but to stay inside, a witness to the bottles of whiskey that his father would consume and his mother’s indifference to the situation. The rain meant that he’d have to stay home from the library, where he spent hours perusing through books and living in between worn out spines. Instead, he’d stay holed up in his room until his father’s booming voice beckoned him out, the rain aggravating his already delicate temper another notch.

It drizzled the day that they lowered his mother into the ground. Barely 25, his only suit hanging off his shoulders and circles under his eyes from nights he spent reading through cases and making his life more than his father’s ever was. He doesn’t cry as her casket gets lowered six feet beneath them, so the sky softly weeps on his behalf.

It rains the day that Haley leaves him. He comes home to their apartment, a light smattering of rain drops on their window as he takes in the empty space of their living room. Jack’s favorite toys are gone from the living room floor, where he spent hours stacking blocks and attempting to shove shapes into the wrong holes. The clothes she left in their closet were non-essentials - not anything they needed to live their everyday lives.

(It’s only fitting that he gets left behind too.)

It storms the day he makes the decision to send Emily off to Paris, his heart in his throat when he tells their superiors that the only way they could keep her safe is by letting everyone think that she was dead. Tears sting in his eyes and his fingers cramp from the intensity in which he’s holding the pen as he signs away to her new life, one that just recently slotted him in like a neat puzzle piece.

Thunder rumbles above them when he squeezes her hand, promising her that he would find Doyle and that he would bring her home. The skies crack open and the rain starts to fall when he gets to stamp his affection for her on her lips, sealing whispered promises he had no idea if he could keep.

So he takes the assignment in Pakistan, because when the sky splits open on a Wednesday night, he feels like he’s drowning.

At least it didn’t rain in the desert.

--

It rains on their third date, much to his dismay.

He should’ve checked the weather forecast before committing to taking her on a picnic in the park on a rare weekday off. He even goes to a boutique wine store in DC, asking for advice on what kind of wines would go best with which cheese because he wants to impress her. He wants the flavours to melt on her tongue to be the same sharp contrast of salty and sweet that lingered on his tongue when he tasted her. He buys her favorite wine, wrapped in a label that’s worn with time, because he wants to show

He just wants to tell her how he feels, but it’s way too soon. She’s only been back in the States for a few months, their romance rekindled in the past few weeks.

So instead, he tries to plan every moment of their date to the perfection she deserved.

If only he had checked the weather.

Emily had shown up at his door, white linen flowing down from thin straps and cinching around her waist, delicately draping right above her knees and his mouth going dry at the sight of her. She wrapped her fingers around his neck and kissed him in greeting, his own hands greedily grabbing the fabric under his hands and internally debated if they could forgo the picnic and instead eat the overpriced cheese he bought off of her skin.

But her eyes brightened when she saw the picnic basket he had prepared, running a finger and reading the labels of everything he bought in perfect intonation to their native languages.

“Where did you get all of this?” She had asked, cheeks dusted in a light pink at the realization that he had done this all for her.

“Maybe if you’re good, I’ll tell you.” He’s always been attuned to her movements - a careful eye thrown in her direction. It had started just as a precaution, his opinions on her joining the BAU still up for debate.

It had slowly and too easily transformed into something else completely. It was probably the reason why he had gone to four different delis in DC, tracking down cheese he couldn’t pronounce the names of and two bottles of wine that he thinks cost him more than all the wine he’s ever bought in his life.

He remembers the first time he caught it. Reading a report from over her shoulder, their relationship refining its rough edges as they slipped closer and closer together. He remembers the smell of her perfume, the soft scent of something floral in his nose as he read through her report.

“Good.” He had said, a soft hand on her shoulder in approval when her shoulders tightened ever so slightly. Not in annoyance, or in anger, but in a frustration that he thinks had to do with the way her hips shifted in her seat. He was just starting to learn about her, of the mole that was tucked on her collarbone, of the small rose tattoo on her ribs and the dove that flew across her hip bone.

He spent his time exploring which patches of skin produced which noises, which angle of his caused her to grip whichever part of him she was holding tighter, and which words caused his name to roll off of her tongue in a sweet cacophony of moans.

Her pupils darkened at his approval, his touch igniting something under her skin that when he said it later that night, wrapped in her silk sheets - the words good girl dropped in the middle of unintelligible mutters - she had arched into him and her thighs clamped down around his hips as she urged him to go deeper and faster, chasing her release by embedding him under her skin.

Another button he’s learned how to press and his delight grew as her pupils widened at his words.

“As long as I can hold you to that.” He wanted to tug her back into his bedroom, taking advantage of the fact that his apartment was kid-free for once but she just cackled and tugged on his hand, telling him to grab the picnic basket because she was starving .

They find a secluded area of Potomac park and he asks her to explain whatever it is he bought, because he really was only working off of the recommendations of the elderly Italian woman at the first deli who had written down all the cured meats and cheeses that he should buy when he mentioned it would be for his girlfriend.

Emily tells him which wine would go best with which cheese and he feeds her grapes and cherries that stained her lips in a soft pink, stealing soft kisses when he lingers close enough and enjoying the blush that spreads on her skin when his hand draws soft circles on the inside of her knee.

The dark, grey sky looms over them without warning, the clouds splitting open to let fat drops of rain land on the very expensive cheese that he thinks is an absurd amount for pressed curds of milk. Aaron starts to quickly pack their picnic, calculating the amount of time that it’s going to take to get to the car that they’ve parked on the other side of the road and wonders why the rain was determined to ruin what was going to be one of his favorite memories.

“Aaron.” She says, chuckling and running a hand down his back. “It’s only the rain.”

But she also notices the way his body has gone rigid, jaw set in a tight line as he continues to pack the food back into the basket. He flinches when a particularly fat raindrop hits the back of his neck and she frowns at his reaction.

But she doesn’t press, instead helping him pack away all of their food and letting him coral her under a nearby tree just as the rain pelts the ground in heavy, loud waves. The rain was torrential, their visibility limited to the first twenty feet in front of them and Aaron already knows that they won’t make it back to the car without getting soaked, if they could find it in the downpour.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He mutters, fists curled tightly and Emily pushes the wet curls across his forehead and brushes off his apology.

“It’s not like you can control the weather.”

“I should’ve checked--” He protests.

“It’s okay, I actually like the rain.” Her head cocks, appraising him with a careful eye and Aaron knows that he doesn’t have to tell her that he isn’t a big fan of the rain. She stares at him for a moment longer and as he is about to suggest they sprint back to the car, her hand slips into his and she tugs him out from under the shade of the tree and right into the downpour.

“Emily, what are you doing ?” He asks, his voice loud to try and compete with the rain that was battering the ground beneath them. Emily doesn’t respond, instead keeping a firm grip on his hand as the drops of water soaked her skin, causing the white fabric around her to cling to her skin.

“Dance with me.” She says, a gentle tug on his hand pulling him closer.

“There’s no music.” He says and she just laughs, his pedantics having the opposite effect on her as she steps closer to him, lifting the hand in hers as his arm loops instinctively around her waist. He’s about to protest again, because they really should be getting back to the car because the food is in a wooden basket under a tree, but she tips her lips on his and effectively stops his protests before they begin.

Her temple brushes against his cheek, and the taut pull of his muscles releasing slightly. She curls into him, her hand resting on the small of his back as his palm flattens across her shoulders, his thumb edging the outline of its blade. A shiver runs up her spine at the contact, the warmth of his fingers a sharp contrast to the rain that slid on their skin. She starts leading him in a gentle sway, their movements oddly on beat with the beating of the rain.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never danced in the rain, Hotchner.” He shrugs, a playful smile gracing his lips.

“I’m not in the habit of catching a cold or freezing in wet clothes.” Emily laughs, the soft lilt of it wrapping his heart in a warmth that causes those three words to curl dangerously at the end of his lips.

“The rain isn’t all bad.” She says, glancing up towards the dark sky as she lets the rain pound on her skin. “It brings the flowers. It cleans the air. It helps us savor the sunshine just a little bit more.”

Her fingers twine around a damp strand of his hair at the base of his neck, the scrape of her nails eliciting the release of the tension in his shoulders. He pulls her a little closer, taking the lead her in a soft shuffle

“The rain brings the rainbows.” She says, a soft smile curling at the edge of her lips, as if she was telling him a secret he wasn’t supposed to know about.

He didn’t think he’d ever find himself dancing in the rain. The torrential background of some of his more unpleasant memories is the same background that makes his chest want to split open to let all the light that was building inside of him out. To let the three words that curl dangerously at the edge of his lips to tumble out laced in a million promises and praises he wanted to give to her.

He didn’t think he’d find himself here, her soft figure pressed against his as the rain soaked their skin. He didn’t think he’d get to imprint his affection for her against her lips, tasting the sweet tartness of the cherries that stained her lips. He didn’t think he’d ever get to have her.

The words slip from his lips, his affection for her pouring from him with no warning or forethought. He just needs to tell her because he’s happy, and he doesn’t think he’d ever be this happy in the rain .

“I love you.” He says breathlessly, panic rising in him as she stiffens in his arms. “You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know.”

But she giggles, bright and brilliantly, and tugs his lips right onto hers and says that she loves him too.

If this was his rainbow, he’d happily let it storm for the rest of his life.

--

The next time it rains, he is the one to tug her into the park across the street. He takes her hand and leads her in a waltz he definitely doesn’t know, the cadence of her laugh sweet and light in the air. He sings Blackbird in her ear, low and whispered, because she’s always brought out a side of him that he thought he could keep buried under steel-reinforced walls.

He’d give every side of him to her, if she asked.

Maybe they’d make enough of these memories, of the rain soaking them to the bone but they would laugh and he’d make her hot chocolate after and he’d peel the heavy fabric of her dress off of her skin as she laughed and tell him to hurry up because Emily Prentiss was anything but patient.

Maybe they’d make enough memories to clean the stained ones that followed him whenever it rained.

Aaron always did hate the rain.

But with her, he hated it a little bit less.

--

[blackdiamondwrites127]

Daily Routine in the Life of Maria Trastámara

7:30 AM-8:30 AM - Morning routine (wake up, take a bath, have breakfast, get ready for work)

"Another day, another opportunity!"

"I'm going in the shower first!"

"You take too long in there! Let me shower first! You unlock that door this instant, Gabby!"

8:30 AM-8:50/9:00 AM - Travel to work (travel time depends on traffic situation)

"Ugh...I bloody hate traffic..."

8:50/9:00 AM-10:00 AM - Clock in and prepare lessons/quizzes/test

"Clocking in starts the money generator~"

"Why do you always say that?"

"It gives me motivation to work everyday. You should try it!"

10:00 AM-12:00 PM - Go to class and teach prepared lesson/give quiz/test

"Good morning class! Let's start today's learning!"

"Literally no one likes math, Ms. T."

"Tell that to the engineers, architects, mathematicians, accountants and a whole other field of jobs that you may or may not qualify for."

12:00PM-1:00PM - Have lunch with the history teacher in the teacher's lounge

"Do you make your own lunch, Maria?"

"Sometimes but my partner's mostly the one in charge of the kitchen."

1:00 PM-4:00 PM - Go to class and teach prepared lesson/give quiz/test

"Pop quiz everyone!"

*collective groans*

"Oh lighten up! You guys knew this was coming!"

4:00 PM-5:00 PM - After school work (grade papers, PTA meetings, math club activities, faculty meeting, etc.)

"Oh boy. I sure do love grading papers after school."

"No you don't, Tia Maria."

"No I really don't, Hal."

----------

*Internally screaming while a parent talks about how her precious angel doesn't deserve his failing grade*

----------

"You guys are the only ones who truly appreciate my teachings."

"That's because we're the Math Club, Ms. T."

"I know and it's great!"

-----------

"Any suggestions to prevent bullying among students?"

"Yeah. How about we get rid of that useless 'Zero Tolerance Policy' and actually punish those students that were caught bullying others instead of punishing both the bully and the victim?"

"We can't do that, Maria."

"We damn well can do that! You just don't want to because you want to be a kiss ass to the parents of those bullies!"

"Any other suggestions?"

"Meu Deus!"

5:00 PM-5:50/6:00 PM - Clock out and travel to Isabella's music shop (travel time depends on traffic situation)

"Finally clocking out! Byeee!"

"Bye Maria!"

5:50/6:00 PM-7:00 PM - Hang out with Bella (visit the theatre if able and buy groceries if needed)

"And that's why I want to punch his face but my boss won't allow me because he's one of the biggest funders of the school."

"You're good with kids, Maria but not with parents."

"Considering our track record with parents, is that even a surprise, querida irmã?"

"Eu acho que não."

7:00 PM-7:20/7:40 PM - Head home (travel time depends on traffic situation)

"I...fucking...hate...traffic!"

7:20/7:40 PM-10:00PM - Nightly routine (take a bath, change into comfy clothes, have dinner, watch T.V./browse social media, get ready for bed)

"Hey! Stop stealing from my plate! You already finished yours!"

"But I want more and you only made enough for two!"

----------

"Do you remember that time where we got into a really heated argument over DC vs Marvel and we ended up making out after?"

"Yep."

"Good times."

10:00 PM-11:00 PM - Head to bed and sleep until the next day

"Can you not hog the blankets this time?"

"How about we just ditch the blanket and cuddle instead?"

"It's still cold, Maria! Cuddling won't be enough to prevent my balls from freezing!"

"I know of other ways I can prevent your balls from freezing~"

"Oh."

--------------------------------------------------

Mentioned Sixtended OC:

Isabella Trastámara belongs to @lexartsstuff

[qrovidcore]

hey what’s up tumblr i’ve now seen hbo’s watchmen all the way through Three Fucking Times and i very well may go for a fourth if given an excuse whoops and apparently i can’t stop thinking about Laurie’s joke in She Was Killed By Space Junk, no i’m not the first person to analyze this and i’m sure i won’t be the last but i sure do have some Thoughts^TM,  so here’s some meta let’s go.

major spoilers ahead for the entire series:

Hey, it’s me again. I’ve got a joke. Stop me if you’ve heard this one. There’s this guy, he’s a bricklayer. He’s really good at it. He’s a real master of his craft. Because he’s precise. Every brick has its place. Anyway this guy has a daughter and he’s gonna teach her to be a bricklayer because after all, all a man has is his legacy. So dad decides to build a barbecue in the backyard. He does the math. He figures out exactly what he needs and he shows the daughter how to do everything. Step by step. And when he finishes, it’s a beauty. It’s a perfect barbecue. Just the way he drew it in blueprints. Only one problem. There’s a brick left over. One single brick. The guy freaks out. He must have done something wrong. He’s gonna have to start all over again. So he picks up his sledgehammer to knock the thing to pieces and his daughter suddenly says ‘daddy wait! I have an idea.’ She picks up the orphan brick and throws it up into the air as high as she can. And then…shit. Messed it up.

Okay forget that joke. Can I tell you another one?

As I said, I’m not the first to break down that Laurie is referring to specific people who have an influence on the story, there’s plenty of meta posts online that’ll say the same thing. I just think this is a Really Clever way to introduce us to her, to the major players in this story, and to the events from the comic that are going to end up being referenced. Anyhow, the bricklayer here is The Comedian. Laurie’s father. I’ll get back to this and how it connects later, but given that one of Watchmen’s major themes is the concept of legacy - who carries it and how, and what happens when that legacy is painful - this is a neat little hook into that idea. Laurie’s dad’s legacy. What she’s done with it, what she’s going to do with it, how she feels about it. Again, coming back to that.

Okay. Forget the brick. New joke. Three heroes die and they all show up at the pearly gates. God’s there and he’s going to decide what their eternal fate shall be: heaven or hell. Our first hero is dressed up like a big owl. God says to him “I gifted you the ability to make fantastic inventions. What did you do with this amazing talent?” Owl guy says “I made this really awesome flying ship and lots of cool outfits and weapons so I could bring peace to the city.” God asks, “So how many people did you kill?” Owl guy seems offended. He says “Zero. I didn’t take a single life.” God frowns. “Sorry owl guy, your heart’s in the right place but you’re just too soft.” God snaps his fingers and the hero goes to hell.

I'm not super into the comic so it took me a while to get that she's referencing Nite Owl. I think this is strange since he doesn't appear in the show himself, whereas everyone else she talks about does, but I suppose it gives a more rounded-out view of the different approaches to heroism, and what exactly constitutes it, and also ties in another one of the original Minutemen. They did cut this over her arrest of Mr. Shadow in the bank, which makes me wonder about his role and why he appeared, and I still find it strange that this part of the joke wasn't about someone who had more of a presence in the show. (Though that being said, DC making fun of Batman, their own big-ticket character? 10/10 thank you for this).

Where was I? The pearly gates await our next hero in line for Almighty judgment. Our hero number two is confident he can game this out because that’s his God-given talent: smarts. Some might even say he’s the smartest man in the world. “So what did you do with that big brain I gave you?” asks God. “As a matter of fact, I saved humanity, ”says Smarty Pants. “Well how’d you do that,” asks God.” “Well I dropped a giant alien squid on New York and everybody was so afraid of it they stopped being afraid of each other.” “OK,” says God. “How many people did you kill?” Smarty Pants smiles. “Three million, give or take. But you can’t make an omelet without breaking a couple of eggs. “Christ,” God says. “You’re a fucking monster.”  “Am not,” says Smarty Pants. God snaps his fingers and our hero goes to hell.

GOD YES PLEASE DRAG OZYMANDIAS. GET THIS FUCKER’S ASS. Though the line that’s sticking out to me here is “You can’t make an omelet without breaking a couple of eggs.” Watchmen’s got an egg motif - and that’s an entire post on its own - and wow this is a place to drop it. I find it interesting that it’s given to Adrien here. Especially since it comes back later, when Will tells Angela that that’s what Jon said in justification of giving his life to stop the 7th K/Cyclops and Trieu. Eggs are used for a lot of things, but this line ties the motif solidly to a value of life here - how Adrien is the way he is because he refuses to value other peoples’, and maybe how Jon is the way he is because, when you can see the future laid out before you and live knowing how you’re going to die, how do you learn to value your own?

Okay. We’re down to the nitty gritty now. One hero left. God cracks his knuckles ready to administer the final reckoning. Now Hero Number 3 is pretty much a god himself. So for the sake of telling them apart, he’s blue and he likes to stroll around with his dick hanging out. He can teleport, he can see into the future, he blows shit up. He’s got actual superpowers. Regular God asks Blue God what have you done with these gifts?” Blue God says “I fell in love with a woman, I walked across the sun, and then I fell in love with another woman. I won the Vietnam War. But mostly I just stopped giving a shit about humanity.” God sighs. “Do I even need to ask how many people you’ve killed?” Blue guy shrugs. “A live body and a dead body have the same number of particles so it doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t matter how I answer your question because I know you’re sending me to hell.” “How do you know that?” asks God. Blue God sounds very sad when he softly says “Because I’m already there.” And so, a mere piston in the inevitable of time and space God does what he did and will do. He snaps his fingers and the hero goes to hell.

And now, we’ve got Jon. Dr. Manhattan. It's a neat moment of insight into his actions, motives, and how those are perceived by others (namely Laurie), and it's a nice thread of introduction to his previous actions to drop for audiences who haven't read the comics (actually, I can make this point about Adrien’s part of the joke too). Especially because most of what we get of Jon in-show is his relationship with Angela, his entire character arc really revolves around her and we don't see him portrayed as the contentious, unfeeling figure the world sees him as. So this sort of contrast between him as a figure and him as a person is very telling, doubly so coming from someone who it's clear knew him. And I really appreciate that there’s just as much stiffness as there is warmth to the Jon we the audience see - he’s kind, he’s loving, but he’s also very matter-of-fact and deterministic, and that bit of characterization really spans the gap between these two versions of him.

And so it’s been a long day at the pearly gates. All the heroes have gone to hell. His work done, God’s packing up to go home and then he notices someone waiting. But it’s not a hero, it’s just a woman. “Where did you come from?” asks God. “Oh I was just standing behind those other guys the whole time, you just didn’t see me.” “Did I give you a talent,” God asks. “No, none to speak of,” says the woman.  God gives her a good long look. “I’m so sorry. I’m embarrassed. Seriously, this almost never happens but I don’t know who you are.” And the woman looks at God and she quietly says “I’m the little girl who threw the brick in the air.” And a sound from above, something falling: the brick. God looks up but it’s too late. He never saw it coming. It hits him so hard, his brains shoot out his nose. Game over. He’s dead. And where does God go when he dies? He goes to hell. 

Into some Thoughts^TM that I haven’t seen anyone theorize yet(?): I think God is meant to be Lady Trieu, and even if Laurie wouldn’t know this yet that’s some brilliant fucking foreshadowing. It's not as exact, but enough parallels are there that I think they're purposeful. It makes Trieu out as the ultimate judge of everyone - and in a way, she is. She sees herself as the most deserving of power of everyone, and it's her who kills Dr. Manhattan - sends him to hell, you could say, and he knows she's going to do it. It also hints at how she's going to die too, crushed by her machine falling from the sky like the brick, because she didn't expect anyone would be capable of stopping her. And where does God go when he dies? He goes to hell. Trieu isn't ultimately above the others, and she's subject to their justice as they are to hers. 

Fitting too that Laurie is involved with the plan to stop Trieu, since, as I said I’d come back to, the girl who threw the brick is Laurie herself. Her depiction of herself in this way is representative, perhaps, of Laure's own feelings on vigilantism and what justice is, and that she's the force that's going to bring down these overblown personalities and their many incorrect uses of their abilities. Given this, it's interesting to think how the "failed" joke at the beginning connects, given that Laurie's dad is the bricklayer, and he's definitely... not a good person, or at least not in this continuity. But I wonder if it's indicative of what Laurie mentions about her parents training her up to do vigilante stuff (especially since she’s based in part(?) on a member of the Minutemen from the comic), and how she feels about her father and his work. If the brick is symbolic of his work as a vigilante, is Laurie throwing the brick in the air, and ultimately taking down the threat at the top, meant to indicate how she sees herself using what she learned from him, or - maybe and - a disrespect for his work based on her justified hatred of him?

Roll on snare drum. Curtains. Good joke. 

[annebaneriddle]

I’ve wrote a twins!AU on a post (Here is what I wrote. It is just a quick resume of how it could have been, but I liked it) and I found the idea really interesting, so I thought “I think I will write what would happen on CW if Steve had a twin, especially one with a personality similar to Ransom’s one. Dude, Ross would be so fucked up. The Accords would SURELLY be put down as soon as he bring it up”.

(Some dialogues are the same as in the movie)

(Also, Steve holds the title of Captain America and Andy holds the title of American Agent)

(And yes, the name “Andy” is because of Andy Barber)

(This is anti-sokovia accords. If you don’t like, just don’t read)

(I really loved writting it)

“Five years ago, I had a heart attack.” Ross positioned himself as if he was going to hit a golf ball  “I dropped right in the middle of my backswing.

Steve and Andy looked at each other, asking without words if the other knew why the hell Ross was talking about it.

“Turned out it was the best round of my life, because after 13 hours of surgery and the triple bypass I found somethig forty years in the army never taught me: perspective.”

Steve heard Andy take a deep breath, trying to control himself to don’t say anything. He was really surprised that his brother hasn’t talked anything yet. Since Sharon took him out of cryo and he was allowed to fight too, instead of staying os a lab as the Army’s lab rat, following orders and being submissive, Andy has developed the tendency of being the most insubordinate and sassy between the two of them (what was a lot, since Steve was pretty much insubordinate himself), so he staying shut just wasn’t like him.

“The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives, but while many people see you as heros, there are some who would prefer the word ‘vigilant’.”

“And what word would you use, mr.Secretary?” Natasha asked with a false courtesy.

“What about ‘dangerous’?” Ross answered.

“Wait a minute!” Andy finally snapped “Are you, from all the people, calling us dangerous? Was this supposed to be a joke? Now, who was the one that spent years trying to catch Bruce? Wasn’t you the responsible for the creation of the Abomination and the destruction of half Harlem? Don’t you dare to call us dangerous, Secretary.” Andy said the title with sarcasm dripping from his voice “If you would use ‘dangerous’ to describe us, I would use ‘egocentrical and hypocritical’ to describe you.”

Andy’s voice was controlled and he was clearly holding back his temper, but yet Steve could see the anger burning on his eyes. 

“Don’t you raise you voice to me, Agent.” Ross warned.

“Does the truth upsets you, mr.Secretary?” Steve asked calmly “My brother didn’t raise his voice at any moment. Eveything he did was tell you the truth.”

Ross frowned while looking Steve right in his eyes.

“I thought you was the most sensible from the two of you, Captain.” He said between his teeths.

“You don’t know neither me nor him enough to make assumptions like that.” Steve shrugged “But for that matter, both me and him are pretty sensible. That’s exactly why he called you out.

The other Avengers were looking surprised to Steve. Usually Andy was the more openly sassy one, but the yonger twin was clearly able to bring to the light the worse of Steve.

“You are a group of US based enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who frankly seem unconcerned about what you leave behind.” He stepped aside so the Avengers could see the holographic screen where scenes from their battles were playing “New York, Washington DC, Sokovia, Lagos.”

Steve saw that Wanda was getting anxious. She has looked away from the screen looking really disturbed and he could hear her breath getting sharp.

“Okay, that’s enough.” He interrupted before more scenes could be played.

Andy made a disdain sound, what attracted everyone’s attention.

“Really, mr.Secretary?” Andy leaned fowards on his chair “Are you really saying that you haven't done the very same thing on Brazil?” Andy’s face showed the most pure kind of innocence, but his words were almost dripping poison “Did you already forgot that you sent a special forces team to get Bruce inside the Rocinha? It’s so convenient that you forgot that your men followed Bruce, trying to get him by any way while he run between innocent people, isn’t it?”

Ross stood there, without knowing how to answer that. The other Avengers watched amazed and unbelieving that Andy and Steve were facing Ross like this. Andy was questioning him without any fear while Steve was by his side supporting him just as always. Now they were truly starting to understand what the Barnes family meant on their interviews back on the 40s when they said that Andy and Steve were like the same being on two different bodies. 

“That was completely different, Agent.” Ross answered “People were in danger.”

“And they were in danger because of you.” Steve controverted “Your hunger for power made you try to catch Bruce by any way you could and that made him have to run away to keep himself and other people safe from you. That’s not advanced math, mr. Secretary. You were the reason he had to run away and you were the one who sent the special forces. That’s the exactly same thing you’re accusing us.”

For the second time in less than two minutes, the Rogers twins managed to let Ross speechless.

“Wow, mr. Secretary.” Andy smilled “Nothing to say about it?”

Ross took a deep breath and ignored the twins, continuing to speak.

“You’ve been working with an arragement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate, but I think we have a solution.” Ross reached the document a  close agent handed him.

Ross handed it over to Wanda. Andy immediately held out his hand in a silent ask for her to give the document to him. Steve reading at least some articles while he distracted Ross would be way more useful and helpful than the others just looking at it’s cover and passing on.

Just one look between them was enough for Steve understand what his brother wanted him to do, so he opened the document and started reading as much articles as he could. He mentally thanked Erskine for the serum enhancing his memory and learning.

“The Sokovia Accords.” Ross explained “Approved by 117 countries. It states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they will operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

“So, if we find out a terrorist will explod a bomb somewhere we will have to wait the United Nations panel decide if we will or not fight them?” Andy asked almost laughing.

By his side, Steve was ignoring the argument while reading what he could until Ross and Andy stopped arguing and the Secretary would have to leave. He wasn’t even on the fifth page yet and what he was reading was already really worrisome. 

“Precisely.” Ross clearly was annoyed by the youngest Rogers.

“Do they know that time is a crucial thing when it comes to save someone?” Andy raised an eyebrow “What will they do if the members have divergent opinions about if we should go help or not and stay there arguing for a middle hour? Will we just watch as people die?”

“That’s not about it, Agent. That’s about compromisse, reassurance. That’s how the world works.”

The smile that appeared on Andy’s face was basically screaming “Got you. I won”.

“So are you admitting that the accords aren’t about saving people’s life, but about the most powerful governments having control upon us?”

“That’s not what I said.” Ross growled.

“Yep, Secretary.” The smile never let Andy’s face “That’s exactly what you just said.”

Ross’ face was red of anger. The man clearly wasn’t expecting that kind of argument, particularly not from the Rogers twins. He head stories about Captain America, the man was supposed to want to follow laws. He didn’t know this much about the yonger twin, since everyone used to believe he died when he got the serum, but everyone that have ever met them said their personalities were almost the same.

And, again, he decided to just ignore the American Agent.

“Three days from now the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords.” Ross informed.

“We have three days to read a document that will rule our lives?” Andy questioned “Are you kidding us?”

“It’s time enogh, Agent.” Ross countered.

“Of course.” Andy said sarcastically “Let me gess: you or other member from the UN will find something to keep us busy those three days so we won’t have time to read it and just sign blindly. The next thing we know we will be arrested without the right to a trial.”

“You gessed right. That’s exactly what would happen.” Steve handed the document to his brother “Page 12, last article on that page.”

Andy grabbed the document, opening on the page his brother said and reading out loud.

“ If an enhanced individual violates the Accords, or obstructs the actions of those enforcing the Accords, they may likewise be arrested and detained indefinitely without trial.” Andy’s eyes widened and he stared ar Ross “What the fuck is that?”

“Let me see if I got it right.” Sam said “If we do anything that goes against the Accords we will be arrested without a trial?”

Before Ross could even answer, Steve talked again.

“I just had time to read 20 pages, but I can guarantee it gets worse.” He said “Page 19, third article on that page.”

Andy passed the pages and stopped at page 19.

“ Any enhanced individuals who agree to sign must register with the United Nations and provide biometric data such as fingerprints and DNA samples.” Andy took a deep breath and if  gazes could kill, Ross would be dead right there at that moment.

“Are you expecting that we will give samples of our DNA to people like you?” His face showed pure disbelief.

“Why do you want samples of our DNA?” Steve asked Ross, who was looking nervous.

He didn’t expect to discuss it now. The plan was to don’t give them time enough to read it.

“It will be discussed three days from now in Viena.” He answered hoping there was no more questions.

Ross started moving towards the door to leave, but of couse the excuse didn’t work.

“He don’t want to admit that the reason they want our DNA samples is so he can make the same thing he did with the Hulk.” Ross could feel Steve’s glare burning a hole on his back.

As Steve planned, the trap worked and Ross turned back to them.

“It’s a serious accusation, Captain.” Ross scolded “All we want is to stop you from disrespecting sovereign borders.”

“So why the Accords includes all the enhanced individuals, not just the Avengers?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

Ross had enough.

“It will be discussed in Viena.” He repeated, leaving the room.

After he left, the room was silent from some seconds before Tony talked:

“What the hell was that?” Tony questioned.

“That was me and Steve taking off the mask of fake concern from a hypocrite.” Andy answered “I thought you would know better than trust Ross. Governments, specially the most powerful ones which are in charge of UN, have agendas, Tony. They won’t think about what’s better for their citizens, they will think about what’s better for the ones in charge. Do you know how many people can die while they lose time arguing about where we can go and if we can go?” Andy put the document upon the table, pulling his chair closer to Steve’s “Steve and I will be here trying to read this before they find some excuse to keep us busy until the meet in Vienna. The ones who want to laugh and at the same time get horrified about what’s written there, stay.”

[an-everything-blog]

Milkshakes

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings: Language

Summary: Billy stands up for you when a jock starts to make fun of you at a party. Friendship ensues. Heavily inspired by Ed Sheeran’s, I Don’t Care

Word Count: 2.9K

Author’s Note: Hello loves! I have been obsessed with Stranger Things and I couldn’t help, but fall for Billy Hargrove and just had to write for him! I was listening this this song on my way to work the other day and this just came to mind as I listened to it! I hope you like it!!

I'm at a party I don't wanna be at And I don't ever wear a suit and tie Wonderin' if I could sneak out the back Nobody's even lookin' me in my eyes

You slowly made your way through Brian Johnson’s house with your head low to avoid all the drunk idiots in the party. When Nancy invited you to the Summer Smash-Out you certainly did not think you’d actually go. Parties are definitely not your look and everyone in Hawkins knew that, but you promised Nancy you would try it at least once. For a moment you considered just turning back and going back home or maybe to the diner a few blocks over to grab a milkshake. It’s not like anyone knew your name or knew who you were.

You sighed and trudged further into the house to find Nancy just so she’d get off your back about it. You’d stay for a little while, then you’d get a milkshake as a reward for torturing yourself like this. You looked around and didn’t see any sign of Nancy, so you opted to stand in a somewhat secluded corner and wait for her to show up. You didn’t really talk to anyone at school preferring to stay to yourself. You and Johnathan were friends which lead you to befriend Nancy as well. You weren’t close friends, but they were kind and didn’t seem too bad.

Don't think I fit in at this party Everyone's got so much to say I always feel like I'm nobody Who wants to fit in anyway?

You looked around at all the teenage girls wearing their short and tight dresses and frowned looking down at your own attire. You were sporting black ripped skinny jeans and an oversized AC/DC band T-shirt you found at a thrift store.

You finally saw Nancy and Johnathan come in through the front door making you sigh in relief. You were starting to get worried and was about to high tail it and run to get your delicious milkshake. You slowly started making your way toward them to prove your being here. You were finally so close to freedom.

As you were making your way around the corner to the front door Tommy Brown the quarterback on Hawkins football team forcefully bumped into you and you could tell before you even turned around that he was heavily intoxicated. He scoffed fixing his eyes down at you.

“What the hell is this ugly fucking loser doing here?” He looked over at his teammate Sam who shrugged uninterested. You furrowed your brows together and stood tall.

“Excuse me?” You questioned incredulous. What the hell is wrong with this guy? You hadn’t done shit to him. You even helped him with his math before and he’s treating you like this?

'Cause I don't care when I'm with my baby, yeah All the bad things disappear And you're making me feel like maybe I am somebody

“Tommy just leave her the fuck alone, alright? She’s not doing nothin to no one by being here.” You heard from behind you. Confused, you quickly turned over your shoulder to see the new king of Hawkins, Billy Hargrove with a cigarette between his lips. He stood tall in his infamous leather jacket with his chest bare and glistening with a pair of tight dark blue jeans. His hair looked curlier than usual and his eye’s shined bright with dominance.

To say that you were unbelievably shocked was an understatement. You did not think in a million years you would see Billy Hargrove stand up for you. Your mouth was agape as he walked past you giving you a quick glance before standing in front of Tommy.

He chuckled and swayed unevenly, “You sticking up for this lame ass fucking nerd?” Tommy laughed loudly gathering even more attention from the crowd than before. Your cheeks burned without your permission as he insulted you. Billy clenched his jaw before exhaling.

“She has a fucking name you dip-shit. (Y/n) will get farther in life than any other person in this low-life shit-hole. Leave her alone before I knock your teeth in.” Billy growled in his face. Tommy’s eyes widened as he stepped back from Billy pulling his hands up in surrender. Then just like nothing happened, Tommy and Sam turned and walked outside to the backyard.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Billy had been in this town for a little while now, but you had no idea that he knew who you were. You remember when he came into your second hour and sat right behind you in the only open seat. He had already been the talk of the morning so all eyes were on him when he made his way to his seat. You were too busy to notice though as you were doodling on your notes. Soon after he tapped on your shoulder and asked for a pencil with that winning smile you would soon learn he gave to all the girls in town. Nothing more happened between you both.

No one really knew who you were so it came as a shock that Billy even knew your name. You never introduced yourself to him or even spoken more than ten words to him. You suddenly heard someone clear their throat and you looked up to see Billy looking down at you. You were at a loss for words as Billy looked hard into your eyes. He could tell that you were close to crying because your eyes were watery. From anyone else’s view it wouldn’t be noticeable, but he was close enough to see through your toughness.

'Cause I don't care, as long as you just hold me near You can take me anywhere And you're making me feel like I'm loved by somebody I can deal with the bad nights When I'm with my baby, yeah

“You alright (Y/n)?” He asked softly, a completely different tone from what you usually hear from Billy Hargrove. You blinked quickly while nodding.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. You didn’t have to do that.” You said just as soft. He looked down to your lips instinctively, but hastily back to your eyes.

“He was being a dickhead, so…” He mumbled. You nodded agreeing with him. The crowd finally dissipated and you looked around rather timid. You still felt like people were staring even though it looked as if they weren’t. Billy seemed to sense this.

“Hey, you want to get out of here?” He abruptly asked and you looked at him wide eyed. You always told yourself if he tempted you like this you would definitely say no, but right now your anxiety was through the roof and Billy was the only one that was making you feel safe as crazy as it sounded. You nodded rapidly and Billy swiftly threw his arm around your shoulders leading you through the doorway. Your body was burning at how close you were to Billy and the fact that he threw his arm around you so nonchalantly. You caught Nancy’s stare on your way out and she gave you a small worried, but happy smile.

Billy guided you to his blue Camaro and opened the passenger side to let you in. You mumbled a thanks and sat down on the cool leather. Once in the car he turned the key; igniting the car to life and speed off into the night.

“Where to Doll-face?” he smirked looking over your weary, unsure form. You’re not used to doing things unplanned.

“Uhh well before that shit-show happened I was going to go to Matt’s Diner and have a milkshake.” You chuckled slightly embarrassed at your lame plan. Who goes to a diner to drink a milkshake by their-self? He chuckled soon after though before replying.

“Lucky for you, I’m a sucker for their chocolate milkshakes.” He stated confidently before turning down the street of Matt’s Diner.

-

You both sat quietly with his chocolate milkshake and your plain vanilla both topped with whip cream and a cherry sitting on the table. Billy plucked his cherry into his mouth before sticking the stem of the cherry into his mouth. Only seconds later he pulled the stem out, tied in a tight knot. This made you chuckle while your cheeks burned away.

“How do you know me?” You suddenly asked grabbing Billy’s attention instantly.

“We have second hour together, I sit right behind you remember?” He said casually glancing away showing signs of apprehension. You rolled your eyes a bit playfully.

“I know that Dingus, I mean I’ve never introduced myself to you. It’s just shocking that you even cared to know it.” You ended quietly looking down taking a sip of your milkshake.

“Are you kidding?” He scoffed, “How could I not know the name of the girl that has any sense of taste in music in this god-forsaken town!” Billy exclaimed chuckling forcefully. You grinned looking down at your AC/DC shirt.

“You’re right. I fear that we may be the only ones in this town who knows what good music is.” You tell him as if it’s a secret which has him grinning like a fool. He had never met someone that he was so easily attracted to: physically and surprisingly emotionally as well. Your face was so naturally beautiful him it made him nervous at times. He hadn’t really had feelings like this so he opted to keep his distance for a while to let you know that he didn’t want to cause any trouble with you.

“Thank you, Billy. For tonight. It.. really meant a lot.” You said barely above a whisper after you both quitted for a few minutes. Billy took a few seconds to look up from his milkshake, but once he did he could tell how much it meant to you. You were biting your lip softly and he had to resist the urge to pull it from your teeth. He quickly nodded before looking away.

“It’s not true you know.” Billy said calmly while playing with his straw. You raised your eyebrows in question.

“What’s not true?” You pressed in wonder. He shrugged before responding.

“Tommy saying that shit about you being ugly. It’s not true. You’re sexy and you’re cool and you’re smart on top of that. He’s just being a pussy-whip because you won’t give him a second glance.” He scoffed the last part. Your body was on fire at his compliments. His stare was hard and honest and serious and you couldn’t physically stand to hold his gaze.

“Billy...” You trailed off before he interrupted.

“No I’m serious. You’re the first real person I’ve met in this fake ass town and it’s stunning. Fuck anyone who thinks you should fit in with their lame asses.” Billy leaned back grabbing ahold of his milkshake glass slipping his straw past his lips and slurping the rest of his milkshake. You chuckled softly.

“Yeah well. Unfortunately this town is filled with fake ass people. That’s why I tend to stay by myself.” You say rubbing your arm. He looks at you for a moment before grabbing his keys and standing.

“C’mon, let’s go for a drive.” Billy smirked grabbing your hand. You giggled and followed him out. Thus starting your friendship with the king of Hawkins himself.

We at a party we don't wanna be at Tryna talk, but we can't hear ourselves Read your lips, I'd rather kiss 'em right back With all these people all around I'm crippled with anxiety But I'm told it's where I'm supposed to be

You really didn’t think you’d ever be back at another party but after befriending Billy he thought it’d be better than the last time for both of you to go together. Walking up to Sally’s house you took a deep breath before looking to Billy. He smiled down at you while chewing his gum and pressed you both forward. You both decided to go to the Back to School party to let off some steam before schoolwork really decided to be too much for you.

Opening the door seemed to attract a few glances. As you walked further in more and more people were looking at you both. What really got the whispers going is what you were wearing. You were still sporting your usual skinny jeans and band T-shirt, but what had everyone talking was the black leather jacket that Billy let you have for the night after you complained of being cold. You shook your head and looked down avoiding other peoples gazes as others called out greetings to Billy.

You both were in the living room where the heart of the party was. The music was blasting and you could hardly hear yourself think. Billy suddenly tapped your arm and you looked over to him. His lips were moving but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. You focused on his lips to try to understand him, but instantly started to regret it. His lips looked too soft, you had a sudden urge to kiss them.

You and Billy had been growing your friendship very rapidly over the Summer and while it’s been the most fun you’ve ever had in your life, it’s also been quite the difficult task to not develop deeper feelings. Especially when he’s a touchy person naturally to the people he’s close with. Then he goes around calling you baby and all these other cute names that has your stomach rolling.

Billy beginning to pull you to the dining room had you break from the trance. You shook your head and looked around as you got even more stares and whispers seeing Billy hold your hand and it was getting a little overwhelming hearing some of the whispers.

You know what? It's kinda crazy 'cause I really don't mind And you make it better like that Don't think we fit in at this party Everyone's got so much to say When we walked in, I said I'm sorry But now I think that we should stay

“Hey, you alright?” Billy asked loudly once you got to a relatively quieter place. You were looking around subconsciously making sure no one was watching anymore. Billy’s hand grabbed your chin lightly and brought it slowly in front of his. As soon as your eyes met his, you calmed down immensely.

“You wanna get out of here Baby? It’s not really our crowd anyway.” Billy asked smiling slightly. You chuckled then let out a long breath.

“No, no. Actually I think that we should stay.” You giggled quietly finally realizing that you weren’t alone. Billy was with you and that’s all that really seemed to matter to you right now.

You immediately gasped when ‘Back in Black’ by AC/DC started blasting through the house. You bounced excited and immediately looked to Billy. He was grinning hard as you grabbed his hand and pulled him to the dance space.  

I don't like nobody but you It's like you're the only one here I don't like nobody but you Baby, I don't care I don't like nobody but you I hate everyone here I don't like nobody but you Baby, yeah

You were totally lost in the moment of the song while dancing with your best friend Billy at a random party. You were both laughing and dancing closely. Billy loved seeing you like this. So happy and carefree. He couldn’t help but think that you made each other better in the sense of joy.

Billy smirked down at you and gently put his hands on your hips guiding your movements. Your cheeks were warm as you placed your arms loosely around his neck while singing the lyrics of the song. Billy couldn’t take it anymore. His whole body was bursting with this happiness and he needed to express it somehow.

Throwing caution to the wind he smirked as he grabbed your face with both hands and pulled your lips to his. You were shocked to say the least and made a quiet squeak sound as his lips formed with yours. Just as you began to kiss back he pulled away to look into your eyes searching for a reaction. You let out a small quick sigh and began to smile widely. This made Billy smile so hard his eyes became little slits. You pulled him back down for another kiss not giving a shit who saw you both.

-

“So what was that?” You questioned referring to the kiss as you both exited the party and back to Billy’s car. Billy shrugged with a silly grin.

“Honestly I hate everyone here in this shit town, but you. So.. yeah.” He smirked as you chuckled.

“I feel the same way.” You agree confidently. You felt like you were flying and it was all because of Billy. He made you feel like no one else did and understood you in a way no one else would.

“Ready for milkshakes?” He looked over to you with an eyebrow raised. He convinced you to go to the party by promising you guys could get milkshakes after. You giggled and reached over his console to kiss him again before his car came to life and began on your journey to Matt’s Diner.  

'Cause I don't care when I'm with my baby, yeah All the bad things disappear And you're making me feel like maybe I am somebody I can deal with the bad nights When I'm with my baby, yeah 'Cause I don't care as long as you just hold me near You can take me anywhere And you're making me feel like I'm loved by somebody I can deal with the bad nights When I'm with my baby, yeah

FEEDBACK APPRECIATED <3

[kyurilin]

2010-2019 Or The Overly Non Dramatic Story of How Kyuri's Decade Went

Technically this isn't a part of this decade review but I'm posting this on December 24th specifically because 10 years ago today I spoke to @mist-over-water on the phone for the first time after having known her for three years and I'm pretty sure we both cried

2010

met @mist-over-water for the first time in person. Took her to the beach where she promptly got roasted by the sun. Took her to the mountains. Took her out to practice driving in a local high school parking lot because why not. I cried so hard when she had to go home and God help me I'd only known her four years at that point.

Flunked a math class for the first time. Funny enough, it was because I'd been put in the advanced math courses for years and that was the year I both had a teacher I hated and could no longer reasonably fake my way through understanding math. Don't put your kids in advanced courses unless you're certain they can keep up with it people I only really was an advanced reader.

My dog Scruffy passed away :(

Started my senior year of high school

2011

Managed to graduate high school on time despite having to take 2 whole math courses during senior year (and with @mist-over-water 's who will now be referred to as Gabby because simplicity buddies sending me 'GRADUATE' messages so I'd have the motivation to go see her in person)

Got to go to England to see Gabby which, dream come true. Had a blast. Met the two precious nieces she had, her brother who's accent I couldn't understand, her mom who is one of the sweetest people, and her grandparents who I got to watch a lot of old British gameshows with.

Saw Wicked from second row seats in London.

Saw Cars 2 three times with Gabby which is why I'm still emotionally invested in Cars 2 because boy getting to see the sequel movie to the movie that ended up allowing you to cross paths with someone you really clicked with is AN. EXPERIENCE.

Cried when I finally had to leave because I was 18 and terrified of the future and didn't know when or if I'd ever see my friend in person again.

Started at community college in the film and video program

2012

Finished my first year of community college

Wrote my first original novel that will honestly never see the light of day. It's terrible ya'll

Through circumstances I still regret started losing my friendship with Gabby and boy do I hate who I was a person during that time

Started my second year of community college

2013

Worked on the X Factor as a production assistant.

Probably around this time that Gabby and I stopped talking which was better for us at that point. Still took an emotional toll to lose a friend that I'd known for 7 years at that point but in the long run we did need the distance (and I'm sorry to throw it all out here like this Gabby if you want it edited tell me I'm just putting it all out lmao)

Through a cosmic aligning of the universe by which I mean a special interest in both Minecraft and Achievement Hunter at the same time, I found a small Minecraft server that I could play on and met some really great people

Started my third year of community college

Oh yeah met @inspector-starfish from the Minecraft server for the first time in person, me and my brother stole her from her college and took her to the state fair with us.

2014

Started easing into talking to Gabby again (I remember the message with new baby Imogen!!!) Which was a blessing

I can't remember if it was 2014 or 2015 but at some point Gabby also hung out with me on the Minecraft server with my other buddies

Worked on Catfish as a Production Assistant for like 2 days and I still think I was fired lmao

My dad was arrested. Which is... The hardest thing to type out. Because everything before 2014 feels so distant because of the events.

He got put in jail and we bailed him out, but a month later he got arrested again and we couldn't bail him out this time.

God help me I'm so glad I had gotten back to talking to Gabby at this point I vaguely remember a sobbing Skype call between us.

I don't even remember what classes I was in at community college anymore that's how bad it is.

I basically dropped out though.

I stopped writing, I stopped drawing, I stopped... Being. That's really what it narrows down to. Only one of my real life friends knew what happened and I broke down everytime I thought about it so i'm pretty sure at one point I had a panic attack on my way to hang out with Friend A, who knew, and Friend B, who didn't.

I did start talking to @rhysispiecess that year. Through a post on here actually (we were also on the same Minecraft server but because I didn't really play that much that I remember after this whole thing I kinda forgot who he was).

I think (maybe???) I also met @belle-sourires and @youllthinkofsomething that year.

We moved from the house we'd lived in 13 years to a little rental house where we had the sweetest neighbors

2015

I spent a lot of time reading and crying in 2015 lmao

Also spent a lot of time talking to @rhysispiecess (the FNAF AU years God bless them for being a much needed distraction from real life)

Dad went to actual prison and boy that's an experience having to visit him there every week

We moved again this time to a small apartment

Got my first real job that wasn't being a production assistant (the same job I still have!)

Started to make actual attempts at writing again but struggled with it a lot

2016

For the first time since 2014 I actually wrote more than a simple one off story of the course of a month

Saved up my money and went to California to meet @rhysispiecess and @27thousandlizards.

Confused the shit out of Luke's (@27thousandlizards ) grandma

Was so tired I cried when I saw how little Corgi puppies are

Got to see @inspector-starfish and @youllthinkofsomething in San Diego where they were doing a robot thing as usual

Got to see the end bit of Route 66 cause wouldn't you know Rhys lives right near it (and as a huge Cars fan oh my God FATE)

Had an absolute blast with both Rhys and Luke and cried when I had to leave them because boy do I love friends

2017

Cars 3 came out and I transcended to a higher plane of being

Okay not really but I'm sure ya'll remember the days where I was mostly a Cars blog

100% I know I've said this before but all of the Cars movies have hit with specific messages at exactly the point in my life I needed to hear those messages so like. Poetic cinema.

Made some fantastic friends from those days

After 11 years of attempts at writing a redemption arc for a certain Cars character I finally wrote one and IT WAS GREAT

Cars 3 also managed to make me write again which has continued to be a struggle since 2014

Oh yeah became single again I was in a relationship but that ended TIME FOR ALONE (learned I'm still a terrible person who doesn't handle relationships well so hey not bad I'll leave people out of my overly anxious 'they must hate me' mentality)

2018

Fell out of writing again after the Cars 3 hype died down enough lmao

Got to meet @whipplefilter and @the-kings-tail-fin for a road trip around NC which was fantastic

Played way too much Nintendo Switch

Gabby got engaged and I absolutely cried for like an hour because how the fuck do you not cry when someone you've known for so long gets engaged (I'm still so happy for her @onetruejonsey seems like a really wonderful guy)

Oh yeah we moved again we have a real house now but the neighbors are redneck assholes

2019

Thanks to FNAF Help Wanted, I got whiplashed back into that fandom BUT I did start writing pretty regularly again. In fact I've written more this year than all the years since I stopped COMBINED. Which means I was both in the right headspace to actually want to write again as well as being able to keep myself focused on it.

Met Jodie Benson (ARIEL!!!!!!), Daniel Logan (KID BOBA FETT) and Christopher Sabat at GalaxyCon. Right. I went to my first convention despite being terrified of it

I cried like a bitch meeting Jodie Benson and she hugged me. I told Daniel Logan I'd had a crush on him as a kid and that Attack of the Clones was still my favorite Star Wars (which it is I wasn't lying) and he hugged me. Got to hear Sean Schemmel call Christopher Sabat out for being so friendly that his line was ridiculous which was great because boy did I not have enough money to meet more than three people. Christopher Sabat was fantastic too.

Went to DC with my 3 closest IRL buddies I've known since like 2008 and despite some arguments none of us killed each other. Nearly destroyed my feet from all the walking though. Don't know how we'd survive a trip to Japan which they all want to do.

Started formulating my next novel idea

It's been a long decade. Really the first half feels like it happened to another person.

I want to say, more than anything, if it weren't for Gabby I never would have had the courage to meet so many of my other online friends. She flew over here to meet me when I was 17 and she was 15 going on 16. We were so young and my dad and her mom worked so hard to make sure that we could actually meet each other and I'm forever thankful for that. I went across the ocean by myself at 18, an autistic disaster of a human, and somehow I didn't panic or get lost or anything. Without those experiences I never would have had the courage to do a lot of the things I've done since.

I'm still terrified of the future though. I have no idea if I'll even save enough money to go to England to see Gabby again (and God we actually need to talk more because I feel like a terrible friend ALL I DO IS SEND GIRAFFE PHOTOS). I don't even know what I want out of life.

Here's hoping though that I can continue to have some adventures and meet more of my online buddies in the next decade!

[stfuisaac]

hello hello it’s lucky again and,, sadly,, we don’t have the technology that makes the thoughts we have just.... appear onto our screens yet... so this took a hot sec and still isn’t perfect bc i don’t plan on proofreading :\ but! here,, is,, my new,, drummer boy,, parumpumpumpum

‹ avan jogia, he/him, cis man, bisexual. › ISAAC BAROT is the TWENTY-SEVEN year old from SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA. when a friend asked them what they thought of the manor they said,  ❝ I HEARD THIS IS WHERE THEY DECIDED TO MAKE THE TWILIGHT ZONE. ❞ they claim GET OUT is their favorite scary movie, and if they were to die in a horror film they would BE OBLIVIOUS TO THERE EVEN BEING A KILLER UNTIL IT’S TOO LATE. their fears include MANNEQUINS, HITCH-HIKERS and DYING WITH NOTHING TO SHOW, and they don’t know we know, but… HE GOT INTO A (MUTUALLY) NEAR FATAL ALTERCATION WITH A STRANGER HE GAVE A RIDE TO (YES, HE WAS AN UBER DRIVER - HIS GREATEST SHAME). hope they enjoy their stay. ‹ PLATANCHOR requested by JOAKIM from STRESSED OUT penned by, LUCKY, 20, EST. ›

QUICK FACTS:

full name: isaac benjamin barot

date of birth: september 12, 1992

*does not perfectly reflect the below Big Three zodiac chart because that’s so much math

zodiac big three: virgo sun, taurus moon, libra rising

gender & pronouns: cis man & he/him

sexual orientation: bisexual

occupation: session drummer + lyft driver + ex-uber driver

mbti: entp

enneagram: 5w6

the song i listen to on repeat while i write the intro: “deja vu” - roger waters

BACKGROUND INFO:

alright. so.

isaac's backstory is neither tragic nor easy. his father was an immigrant who married his mother solely to get a green card (y’all, to be fair... the citizenship tests are whack). there wasn’t any real romance between the two, but the drop-ins always said otherwise. no, outside of putting on a show for government officials, isaac’s father and mother were friends at the best of times.

the best of times culminated in a son who grew up in an interesting dynamic. his father and mother never even attempted to be anything more than friends (with, as you can see, the occasional benefits). after the check-ins finally stopped, his father and mother even began sleeping in different rooms. his mother would trade in her queen for a double and replace the space his father used to take up with his cradle.

it was nothing like the ‘unhappy marriage’ trope, though... again, because they barely ever pretended to be married. they would take their wedding rings off when they went out with friends. sometimes they would even take off their rings around each other and talk the other up to someone attractive.

so it was unorthodox, but it was much better than his parents pretending to be in love in that way and giving him a skewed version of what romance should look like.

one down-side to it, though, was that isaac never knew who he was supposed to go to for what. usually it’s just a given that “if you need/want x, go to the matriarch, if you need/want y, go to the patriarch” but... what happens... when your parents are basically just your friends?

so thank god for growing up in the age of technology. like,, ya,, a literal baby can’t google things like “how to say ‘mom’” but a 15y/o can google “how to shave”

so... ya... his parents were his friends, the internet was his parent(s?).

one thing the internet couldn’t do? give him drums. it could introduce him to the likes of ringo starr, john bonham, keith moon, and ginger baker, but it couldn’t give him drums... not when he was only, like... 10, at least.

so he put a set on his christmas wishlist and figured they would divide amongst themselves.

so ya, his 10th christmas, he got a shitty little rockwood hohner kit that he would use for the next nine years.

he never received any professional training. again, he didn’t know who to ask and... youtube wouldn’t exist for another three years. he tried to teach himself using a few books and, if nothing else, figured out a few simple beats and how to gain independence.

after learning those simple little beats and not knowing if he wanted to buy the next book, he decided to take a break and, instead of going back to professional books, he’d just listen to some of his favorite tracks... most of which were ginger baker... which made things kind of hard when he only had one bass drum, two tom-toms, and one floor tom. those, plus the really low quality pearl cymbals. still, he did his best to make it work.

just a side-note that, because of videos of ginger, isaac used (and still uses, out of habit) a mix of traditional and matched grip.

he went back and forth between the books and mimicking the patterns of other drummers (mostly ginger) up until he was around 16 and his friend, ribs (y’all), decided to teach him a few more technical skills. what you want to learn for this song are polyrhythms, but those are hard and no, ginger isn’t using a crash there, he’s using a splash and do you want a discount on some better cymbals and drumheads from my parents’s music shop because this is a very functional kit but it kind of sounds whack

he continued using the same whack kit, but replaced the heads with aquarians, as per ribs’s recommendation (but evans and remo are also good) and, after literally examining baker’s kit, replaced the cymbals with various zildjian collections

even though we stan istanbul agop in this house.

he also started listening to more drummers than... pretty much just baker with a hint of john bonham, keith moon, and ringo starr. as his friend suggested, he tried out drummers like buddy rich, art blakey, travis barker, dave grohl, karen carpenter, neil peart, nick mason, simon phillips –– even was told to listen to ac/dc songs just to see how a successful band could be made using essentially the same beat over and over and over.

so now he had some split time. school. work. practice. figure out who the hell was making dinner that night/if there was someone making dinner last night because they might both be talking each other up.

although he applied to various colleges, and although some of these colleges actually accepted him, he ultimately decided not to go. instead, he moved from san jose to los angeles in the hopes that he’d find something bigger than himself... and a new drum set...

he found the latter in a ludwig kit with two bass drums, two tom-toms, and two floor toms. then he just added a bunch of stuff and tried to make it like ginger baker’s. pretty much spent all of his money on it and then some.

when his friends formed a band and found success, he was very very happy for them... but... he found himself stuck... driving ubers.

and lyfts!

he’d seen the twilight zone before. he loved that show. he’d seen the episode ‘the hitch-hiker,’ so he was really driving for the companies against his better judgment. 

his worst uber story? the time a guy got into the car, had pinged a location that was still marked as a store on the uber gps but had recently been torn down, and tried to attack him when they got there :\ he 110% fought back, though. was fired because the other guy was the one who made it out injured.

only drove for lyft after that :\

he did take on a few projects, but he... proved to be too much of a roger waters for people who just wanted to chill and have fun. there would be adverts for people who wanted to form a band and he’d be like “hell yeah! finally! a band!” then he’d get pissed that they advertised it so seriously but really... just wanted to jam. did not have any plans to try to do anything with it.

the few projects he did join that involved people who wanted to actually achieve success... if they were slacking, you best bet his inner roger waters came out! which is why he never stuck around in any projects for too long!

but ‘projects’ and ‘jam sessions’ were totally different. you want to do ‘wipeout’ in a project? he’s gonna take that intro that literally everyone on the planet knows SERIOUSLY. you want to do ‘wipeout’ in a jam session? LET’S HAVE SOME FUN WITH IT.

he does some session/studio drumming for other artists to make some extra money while doing something he genuinely enjoys... but... still... it is no project™

in between things right now, he got a call from joakim that, while muffled and staticky, sounded like it said ‘get here, please’ and clearly stated where he was.

of course, voicemail lines were crossed and many many many essential words were left out – words that were basically saying the exact opposite ahfsdkjl. the shadow’s really playin them :\

so here he is, in all his glory.

TL;DR:

i was gonna kms if i didn’t play another drummer, so this is my ginger baker fanboy whose parents were literally just best friends and, as a result, were also both his friend. the internet raised him. started playing drums when he was 10 on a low qual kit with low qual cymbals that his parents got him for christmas, but literally why would you get a beginning a good set? continued playing. eventually moved to los angeles and tried to form many successful projects, but was too much of a roger waters. was summoned up here by the shadow man fucking around joakim. his greatest shame is how many ubers he has driven.

PERSONALITY INFO:

he will always say his proudest moment was when he learned how to play ‘toad’ by ginger baker cream all the way through.

big ginger baker fanboy.

loves the twilight zone and will just spill a random fact out about it every now and again.

a lowkey control freak which completely goes against the way he dresses and the vibe he gives off. 

is only a dick about it if you’re part of one of his ‘projects’ but aren’t taking it seriously tho :\

ok i’m too tired 2 write a personality section rn when im already rly bad at them but!! again!! feel free 2 j refer to the zodiac big three + the personality types!!

FEARS:

mannequins: they’re already creepy enough when you really think about it, then you add in that episode of the twilight zone where the characters wake up in an unfamiliar house and go outside and basically everyone is just a mannequin? ya he hates mannequins.

hitch-hikers: so, as we have just seen, he’s had it bad enough with people who were registered to an app, paying, their personal information readily available, etc., etc... so then what would happen if it was just a complete and utter stranger who didn’t have any personal information, any ping, and was the sole focus of a different twilight zone episode? he... is going... to drive past you. he’ll feel bad about it, but...

dying with nothing to show: here’s the money shot! here’s the deep fear! as has been shown throughout, isaac craves success and some form of a legacy. if he dies with nothing to show for his life, then was his life ever worth it in general?

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

ok,,, it might be bc im tired rn,,, but i have the most basic list that will hopefully be updated tomorrow bc it is SO VERY BASIC:

friends

fwb

ons

exes

enemies (much easier to get on his bad side than it is w/ fluke)

BRAINSTORMING AND/OR SOMETHING FROM YOUR WANTED CONNECTIONS AND/OR WHATEVER YOU HAVE AN IDEA FOR!!!!

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Spider-Man: Life Story #4 Thoughts Part 1: Doc Ock Disservice

In retrospect issue #1 of this series was a mixed bag, issue #2 was bad, issue #3 was hot trash and now issue #4 is...

 Well...it depends.

See I usually try my best to write these basically as soon as I’ve read an issue. However a trip to my LCS and back is at least a 2 hour round trip and I had to head into work practically immediately after getting back. Consequently I’m writing this several hours later than I would have liked.

My initial gut feeling during and immediately after reading the issue was that this was a mixed bag. But ruminating on it more it’s gone down yet further in my eyes.

Maybe I’m not diving deep enough into it but my gut feelings on this (which is what these posts are, they’re not reviews where I try to be more actively analytical rather than ‘free style’ it) it’s...not AS bad as prior issues; issue #3 being the absolute nadir thus far.

Perhaps that is due to now knowing how messed up this series is I knew what I was getting into and what to expect thus I was less aghast by what I saw. Perhaps it was the fact that this issue, unlike issue #3, didn’t slap my intelligence in the face with asinine historical politics and the most aggressively stupid attempt to homage my fav Spidey tale, KLH.

However some of my...I don’t know the right term...my feeling less disdainfulness, towards this issue might stem from Peter’s age.

See when you do the math canon Peter Parker’s lifespan can be viewed as encompassing the amount of time covered in issues #1-3, that is to say ages 15-mid 30s. Thus there was a certain degree of precedence involved, a certain roadmap for us to compare LF Peter to.

But in this issue Peter is around 48 years old. This is well beyond the age of canon Peter Parker and only AU versions of the character have ever approached that age and being AUs they aren’t great sources for comparison. The closest thing we have is MC2 Peter Parker who was in his early 40s and different in his attitude and outlook to LF Peter. However that could be due to being younger, having his family and being retired for 10+ years thus making him more positive towards the prospect of being Spider-Man.

LF Peter is fed up, tired and wants to stop being Spider-Man. Any of the old enjoyment he ever derived from it is long gone. As is apparently his desire to remain ‘relevent’. Guess he got over that early mid-life crisis he went through in issue #3. You know that mid-life crisis that led to him using an alien performance enhancer that was allegedly addictive.

Actually more than a few of this issue’s problems can be owed to older issues, and specifically issue #3.

First of all...so America is still around. Um...yeah wasn’t there a war with Russia happening last issue? Wasn’t there a nuclear arms race that was hotter than the Cold War ever was in real life?

I suppose given how utterly unrealistic it was that Russia nuked an American town and then nuclear Armageddon didn’t ensue in issue #3, this issue is consistent in it’s boneheaded lack of realism.

And it does offer an explanation. Tony Stark’s weapons ended the war.

...Okay...we need to talk about this again and this time I’m going to spell it out.

So there has been no end of speculative fiction presenting stories revolving around a world where historical events happened differently.

A common example, embodied by the acclaimed show Man in the High Castle, is ‘What if the Axis powers won WWII’.

Life Story has at various turns presented real life historical events but injected superheroes in them whilst also showing them playing out differently.

Iron Man, Giant Man and Captain America went to Vietnam.

Captain America went rogue in Vietnam.

The Vietnam War lasted longer than in real life history.

Russia launched nukes at the USA and destroyed a town resulting in a super hero invasion on Russia and open warfare.

Said war was won by America apparently thanks to Tony Stark’s weapons.

Do you know the difference between Life Story and Man in the High Castle, or indeed most speculative fiction?

It actually explains what happened!

In Man in the High Castle we learn various pieces of the alternate history, among them being that the Axis powers developed atomic weapons before the Allies and nuked Washington DC, eventually winning the war and dividing America between the Third Riech and the Empire of Japan.

In Life Story we find out the Vietnam War lasted longer. Somehow.

In Life Story we find out Tony Stark’s weapons won the war with Russia. Somehow.

WHAT HAPPENED!

At best this is a pointless tease, it’s like sidestory world building. What’s the point of bringing the fact that this world’s history is drastically different but not bothering to elaborate on it at all.

Tony’s weapons won the war. What weapons? How did they win? Give us some details for God’s sake.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, the story isn’t about the Russian war or the alternate international politics, it’s about Spider-Man. But then...why the fuck is it in the story?

Shit dude, redraft Life Story a little bit and you could more or less exorcise ALL the stuff about international political conflicts and lose nothing. In the case of Kraven’s motivations last issue it’d be an improvement!

Look maybe I’ve got a bug up my butt about this more than most people because I studied history at university, but even putting that aside...it just feels superfluous to this story.

What gets me is that it’s veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeery good money the only reason this shit is in the story is to evoke Watchmen (which ‘coincidenally’ is being revisted in Doomsday Clock by DC right now) which was also an example of speculative historical fiction involving superheroes. Which also explained what happened!

Superheroes existed. So they intervened in Vietnam. And they won because of their overwhelming power.

In Life Story we don’t even know who won the Vietnam War or even if it’s over yet!

Moving on a little, so Tony Stark and Peter are at logger heads. Now I dislike Spider-Man’s involvement with Iron Man in recent years but I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand seeing Iron Man not be Peter’s mentor is lovely, but I wonder if Zdarsky was banking on audience familiarity with that dynamic from the films to create a shock moment by portraying a relationship between both men so at odds with what you see in Homecoming.

That wasn’t my first thought though. My first thought was Zdarsky is trading off of the Peter/Tony relationship from JMS’ run...which had nothing to do with the 1990s at all; we’ll talk more about that in a minute.

Finally, not content to write Peter out of character, Zdarsky apparently wanted to write Tony out of character too.

I am no Iron Man expert but by the 1990s...hadn’t he kinda sorta stopped making weapons!

I could forgive it in the older issues because Tony apparently didn’t get out of the arms business in the comics immediately like in the films, so it wasn’t inaccurate to the time periods. But I’m 90% sure he had stopped making weapons by the 1990s. Tell me if I’m wrong please, but if I am not....holy shit what is Zdarsky doing? How does aging in real time = Iron Man would still be a war profiteer?

Let’s leave Stark and the real life history alone and get into the real meat of this story.

Okay so we have Ben Reil-

Wait what?

*re-reads Life Story #4*

...there is something off with this...

*checks Life Story #2*

...um...Life Story #2 clearly states that Peter and Gwen’s clones took on the names Helen and Ben PARKER not REILLY!

Now Reilly makes a lot more sense from both a practical point of view (a guy who looks like Peter Parker with his last name raises questions) and from a referencing canon POV.

But what the fuck is up with the inconsistency?

Who was asleep at the wheel for that one! Oh...but it won’t be the only inconsistency by the way.

So Ben Reilly (who looks more like Ben Urich) is a photogra-

Wait, wait, wait. What again?

Ben Reilly is a...photographer?

...WHY??????????????????????

Look...Peter does have a certain passion for photojournalism, but he prefers science.

Ben Reilly in canon never even considered photography as a job to my recollection. He worked as a lab assistant, a barrista, a bouncer/body guard, a teacher but never a photographer even though that would’ve been an obvious profession to consider.

When Peter began working that job it was a way for him to earn the money he desperately needed to provide for himself and Aunt May whilst also not having his time eaten up with a 9-5.

Sure Ben is also a superhero (the Red Mask...I hope he didn’t dream that up himself...in the middle of a Cold War...) in this universe, but what is motivating him to do that? He’s got science smarts, he has legal documentation from issue #2 allowing him to hold jobs. Why would he not go into a field he both prefers and one that you’d think in a world where there was a war raging with intangible nukes would be of greater use?

I can think of some No. Prize explanations...but that’s the problem.

I  have to think of those explanations. The story, like so much else in this shitty series, doesn’t elaborate.

This goes beyond the characters being different for the sake of being different from canon.

Ben Reilly is doing something that demands an explanation within the context of this series’ unique continuity as established. It’s not even a matter of established characterization based on canon, it’s a matter of established characterization based upon the last 3 goddam issues.

This lack of thought equally applies to our main villain of the issue, Doctor Octopus.

So in issue #2/1977 Doc Ock had reformed because of a heart attack and all that good tender luvin care he got from a woman at least 20 years his senior; Zdarsky does know most people enjoy the May/Otto relationship ironically right, nobody actually thinks it makes sense or was a good idea, but no here it’s the crux of his whole character.

In issue #3/1984 he was...clearly a villain again because he’s obviously attacking Spider-Man in the double page spread depicting Secret Wars.

In issue #4/1995 we learn that Otto was at May’s funeral and this was the last time Peter saw him. Also according to Peter May left Otto long before she died and that was when he just disappeared, Peter presuming he retired in Florida.

So going by issue #4 alone we have something of a contradiction. If Otto disappeared long before May’s death...how could the last time Peter have seen him been at her funeral.

Maybe that’s just phrased a little badly and I’m nitpicking. Fair enough.

What isn’t fair enough though is either Zdarsky isn’t paying attention to his own writing, Bagley and he are not communicating properly or the editor is severely dropping the ball.

May and Otto were clearly NOT together in issue #3 when Otto was also clearly a villain and Peter clearly was aware of this because Otto was attacking him.

Which means Otto must’ve disappeared before then which means Peter would’ve known he hadn’t retired, he’d returned to villainy.

Now a point of praise, Otto blaming Peter for May leaving him, I think that rings true to Otto’s character, let alone an old aging Otto. This is the guy who often saw what he wanted to see, who infamously once wanted to nuke NYC to prove how he wasn’t to be taken lightly even though it’d also kill him too.

Too bad that point of praise is drowned out by his plan in this story which is all wrapped up in the clones.

Okay, okay, Doc Ock had a important role to play in the 1990s Clone Saga so what’s the problem?

The problem is that...I heavily suspect this isn’t riffing on the 1990s Clone Saga.

I think it’s much more likely that it’s riffing on the Ultimate Clone Saga in which Doc Ock was the mastermind behind the clones; coincidentally Bagley drew all three of the Ock Clone Saga tales which is a nice piece of historical symmetry.

Why...is....Zdarsky....riffing....on....a...Ultimate....Universe....story....?????????????????...from the 2000s!!!!!!!!

And in case the jury doesn’t accept that criticism here is another one. Otto feels he’s dying without accomplishing anything.

Um...wasn’t he working with Reed Richards in issue #2?

Otto working legitimately with a big brain like Reed surely would’ve in like 10 years accomplished SOMETHING! He invented so much crazy tech he really didn’t patent any of it, release it to the public?

Couldn’t his arms alone do wonders for disabled people?

I know this is comics so you should suspend disbelief because if you don’t you have to ask why fossil fuels even still exist.

But that’s the problem with this series.

It wants to have it’s cake and eat it.

It wants to show superheroes having a world changing impact on the world as they realistically would...but not go all the way with it.

It wants to have superheroes go to Vietnam and Russia have and use super powered people and intangible nukes but it also wants to ignore the obvious ramifications when it’s inconvenient.

This gets even stupider when you contextualize it within wider Spider-Man media. In the recent, heavily publicized Spidey PS4 video game (that Marvel is adapting as a comic book right now) Doc Ock creates his arms specifically to help disabled people and uses them because he himself is losing control of his motor functions. And in Ultimate Spider-Man cartoon (for 5 year olds) Doc Ock is disabled from the outset and entirely relies on his arms to move around.

So why the fuck did Otto at no point consider using that tech to help the disabled and thereby accomplish something in his life. It’s an obvious idea Reed, Peter or even May must’ve suggested. It probably could’ve helped someone as frail and infirm as May specifically.

We’re also told May left Otto due to his anger. Great use of telling not showing there Zdarsky. Remember how angry Otto seemed in his one other speaking appearance before now?