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scriptedinkbyxim · 3 months ago

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Past the Finish Line: Into the Chicane [MV1]

Amidst the glitz and chaos of the F1 world and a very tense 2024 season, Max Verstappen and (Y/N) Sainz relationship faces a pivotal challenge. As racing pressures mount and emotions run wild, a moment of heartbreak leaves them questioning if love and ambition can coexist.

Pairings: Max Verstappen x Sainz! Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, So much Angst. Commitment Issues. Allusions to sex but nothing explicit. No happy ending.

A/N: Hi, Xim here. This is my first published fic and I hope you enjoy it. English is not my first language so apologies in advance for any mistake. This is pt. 1 of a three part mini series but can be read as a standalone.

Part 2. | Part 3.

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How did we end up here?

It was a question without an answer, one that lingered in the silence between them, thick and suffocating like the humid Budapest air pressing against the hotel windows. The suite was bathed in golden light from the city outside, reflecting the neon glow of the Hungarian Grand Prix weekend, but inside, the atmosphere was anything but warm.

Max stood with his hands on his hips, his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins in his neck were visible. (Y/N), across from him, arms crossed over her chest, blinking back the sting of tears that she refused to let fall.

Love was supposed to be a partnership.

It was supposed to be about growing together, supporting each other, facing life’s uncertainties as a unit. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. Sometimes, no matter how much history two people shared, no matter how deeply they had intertwined their lives, love alone couldn’t bridge the gaps that formed between them.

It had started with something small. It always did.

A simple question, an offhand comment.

She had been scrolling through her phone at the hotel, the post-race adrenaline still pulsing through her veins. The results had been disappointing, and she knew Max was frustrated—knew the weight of the season was pressing down on him more than ever.

But then she saw the article.

Verstappen Focused on Career, No Interest in Settling Down Yet.

She laughed. Not because it was funny, but because of how absurd it was. The media speculated all the time, twisting words, exaggerating things—but this? This wasn’t an exaggeration. This was him, in his own words, saying everything she had feared.

“You could’ve at least warned me before telling the world you have ‘no interest’ in a future with me,” she had said, tossing her phone onto the coffee table.

Max had barely looked up from where he was unlacing his shoes. “What are you talking about?”

She grabbed her phone again, shoving it toward him. “This.”

He skimmed the article, expression unreadable. “It’s just media nonsense.”

“Max.” She crossed her arms, pressing her lips together. “It’s your quote.”

He exhaled sharply, tossing his shoes aside before leaning back against the couch. “I told them what I’ve been saying for years. My focus is on racing. Everything else can wait.”

Her stomach twisted. “Everything else?”

He looked at her then, brows furrowed. “You know what I mean.”

Did she?

Because standing here, listening to him say it like that—like their future was something to be indefinitely postponed, something unimportant—it didn’t feel like she knew anything at all.

“Do I?” she asked, voice sharp. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like I’m just supposed to keep waiting while you decide if I fit into your perfect little plan.”

Max ran a hand down his face, already exasperated. “Why are you making this a big deal? You know how important this season is.”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “I know how important racing is to you, Max. I’ve always known.”

It was the unspoken part that stung.

But do you know how important I am?

His silence answered that question for her.

AUSTRALIA, 2015

The first time she met Max, he was just a boy with sharp blue eyes and a cocky grin, standing next to her older brother in the paddock. She had been fifteen, barely old enough to understand the world she had grown up in, but something about him had intrigued her.

Carlos had been the one to introduce them, laughing when Max—seventeen and already making a name for himself—had barely glanced at her before shaking her hand with a distracted nod.

She had rolled her eyes, unimpressed, and muttered something in Spanish under her breath. Whatever it was, it had caught Max’s attention, and for the first time, he had really looked at her.

“You speak Spanish?” he had asked.

“She’s my sister,” Carlos deadpanned. “Of course she does.”

Max now had a flirty smirk. Carlos had groaned, but (Y/N) just laughed, not knowing then that this arrogant Dutch boy would become the love of her life.

They had fought before. God, they had fought. Stubbornness was ingrained in both of them, but this wasn’t like before. This wasn’t an argument that would end in tangled limbs and whispered apologies in the dark. This was something breaking—cracking apart at the seams, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t hold it together.

“Do you even hear yourself?” Max’s voice was sharp, edged with frustration, exhaustion, and something deeper—something that made her stomach twist painfully. “You think now is the time for this? Right now, when everything is going to shit?”

(Y/N) inhaled sharply, nails digging into her palms. “I think now is the time because I can’t keep waiting for a ‘right’ moment that never comes.”

Max scoffed, running a hand through his disheveled hair, already damp from the heat. “So what? You want me to deflect from the championship with this? With fucking marriage and kids?”

The words were a slap.

She staggered under the weight of them, blinking as if that would somehow make them disappear. He didn’t mean it, she told herself. He was angry. Stressed. But the way he was looking at her—like she was asking for something outrageous, something unreasonable—made her chest ache in a way she hadn’t felt before.

“I’ve been with you for eight years,” she whispered, voice shaking despite herself. “Through everything. I have given you everything, Max. And you act like I’m some… inconvenience?”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He just stared at her, expression unreadable, and suddenly she was drowning in memories.

SILVERSTONE, 2019

The energy at Silverstone was electric, the summer air thick with heat and anticipation. The race had been brutal—wheel-to-wheel battles, aggressive overtakes, and tensions running high.

(Y/N) had been in the paddock, watching the post-race interviews, still grinning from the chaos on track. Max had fought like hell against Charles, the two nearly colliding more times than she could count.

Carlos, standing beside her, let out a low whistle. “That was some proper racing.”

“Some proper reckless racing,” Lando chimed in, shaking his head with a smirk. “I swear, those two act like they have a personal vendetta.”

(Y/N) laughed, arms crossed as she watched Max approach from the media pen, Charles a few steps behind him. The Monegasque caught her eye first, giving her a knowing look. “You should keep your boyfriend in check. He drives like a lunatic.”

Max, overhearing, scoffed. “And you don’t?”

She stepped between them, rolling her eyes. “Are you two seriously arguing again? You just got out of the car.”

Charles smirked. “It’s called passion, Dolcezza.”

She shook her head but smiled, glancing at Lando, who was already pulling out his phone to film whatever chaos was about to unfold.

Then she felt Max’s arm loop around her waist, pulling her into his side. It was natural, instinctive—like muscle memory.

She looked up at him, arching a brow. “What are you doing?”

“Reminding Charles that you’re mine,” he said, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, but her heart fluttered anyway.

Lando, never missing an opportunity, pointed his phone at them. “Aww, look at you two. So cute.”

Carlos clapped Max on the back. “Alright, lover boy. Let’s go debrief before you and Charles start throwing punches.”

As the group walked off, she stayed behind for a second, looking back at the track. The adrenaline, the heat, the pure joy of racing—it was everything Max loved.

And she loved him.

Back then, she had believed that was enough.

“Do you remember Silverstone?” she asked suddenly, voice thick with emotion breaking the silence.

Max blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“2019. After the race.”

His brows furrowed. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Because back then, you wanted me by your side. You wanted a future with me. And now…” She gestured helplessly between them. “Now I don’t even know if I fit into your life anymore.”

Max stepped forward, frustration flashing in his eyes. “That’s not fair, Schatje. You know I want you with me.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Do I? Because from where I’m standing, all I see is a man who only prioritizes me when it’s convenient.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Her voice cracked. “You’ve built your entire life around racing, Max. And I’ve let you. I’ve supported you through everything, sacrificed parts of myself just to be what you needed. But when do I get to be a priority? Do you even think about a future with me anymore?”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Max exhaled, shaking his head. “I can’t do this right now.”

She flinched.

Not I don’t want to lose you.

Not We can figure this out.

Just I can’t do this right now.

And that was all she needed to hear.

She looked out the window as the sun set, trying to hold on to the remaining pieces of their relationship.

BARCELONA, 2016

It happened in Barcelona, after the race. It wasn’t anything grand or cinematic. No fireworks, no dramatic declarations of love—just two teenagers who had spent months circling each other, neither willing to admit what had been obvious to everyone around them.

They had been walking through the Red Bull hospitality area late at night, the paddock nearly empty. (Y/N) had teased him about his race start, and he had nudged her shoulder in response, grumbling about how she and Carlos always ganged up on him.

Then, suddenly, the air shifted.

She had looked up at him, at those sharp blue eyes, and for the first time, there had been no hesitation. No fear.

He had kissed her like he had been waiting to do it forever.

And maybe he had.

Max exhaled harshly, shaking his head as if trying to take back his last words.

She let out a bitter laugh, stepping away from him, away from the suffocating weight of this argument. Her hands trembled as she wiped at her face, furious with herself for letting the tears slip free.

“I was there when you won your first race,” she said, voice quiet now, laced with pain. “I was there for your first pole, your first championship. I put my career—my life—on hold for you because I believed in us. I believed in you.”

Max flinched, just barely, but it was enough. Enough for her to see that he knew—deep down—she was right.

And yet, when he spoke again, his voice was cold. “I can’t afford distractions right now. Not with the way this season is going.”

ABU DHABI, 2021

She had been in the garage, hands clasped together so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. The final lap. The final chance.

And then—Max had done it. He was an F1 World Champion.

She had barely had time to react before he was running toward her, before she was in his arms, laughter and tears mixing as he spun her around.

“You did it,” she whispered against his shoulder.

He had pulled back just enough to press his forehead against hers, grinning like a madman. “We did it Schatje.”

At that moment (Y/N) felt as if they were in heaven, as if with Max everything was possible. Nothing indicated otherwise, she was in heaven and nothing could have prepared her for the fall.

Now she felt like a fool.

His words echoed in his head like torment.

Distraction.

That was all she was to him.

She had loved Max since she was sixteen. Supported him through every win, every loss, every moment of doubt. And now, when she was finally asking for something in return, he was acting like she was asking for the impossible.

“I’m not saying we have to get married and start having kids tomorrow,” she said, voice tight. “I’m saying that after eight years, I need to know if there’s a future here. If I even matter to you beyond being someone who follows you around from race to race.”

Max exhaled harshly, shaking his head. “You know you matter to me.”

“Do I?” she challenged. “Because it doesn’t feel like it, Max. It feels like I’m just another part of your career, like I exist to be there for you but never the other way around.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

(Y/N) stared at him, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, and suddenly it was so clear. There was no answer to the question that had haunted her since the fight started.

How did we end up here?

She took a step back, then another, and Max didn’t move. Didn’t reach for her.

And that was it. That was all she needed to know.

“I hope you win,” she said, her voice hollow. “I really do. Because if you don’t, then you’ve lost everything for nothing.”

Then she turned and walked away, leaving behind the man she had loved for eight years and the life she had built around him.

As the door clicked shut behind her, leaving nothing but the ghost of her presence and the sharp scent of her perfume in its wake, Max remained motionless. The silence in the hotel room felt suffocating now, pressing against his ribs with the weight of unsaid things. I hope you win. The words rang in his ears, curling around his thoughts like a vice, and for the first time in his life, victory felt like a consolation prize rather than a triumph.

He exhaled, slow and measured, running a hand through his hair as if to steady himself, but the ache in his chest remained—something raw, something unresolved. He should have stopped her. He should have said something. But all that remained was the quiet hum of the city outside and the space where she had stood, her absence louder than any of the words they had spoken. What had he just done?

MONACO, 2024 – ONE WEEK LATER.

(Y/N) moved through their apartment with practiced efficiency, collecting the last of her things. The space was eerily silent without Max’s presence—no sound of him pacing while on the phone with his agent, no distant hum of the simulator running late into the night.

She had always loved this apartment. It had been their home together, the place where they had grown from teenagers in love to adults navigating life side by side. Every corner held a memory—a lazy morning spent tangled in bed, a quiet evening watching the sunset from their balcony, a passionate night lost in each other's bodies, the scent of Max’s cologne lingering in the hallway.

But now, all those memories felt like ghosts.

She moved to the dresser, opening the top drawer. His shirts were still there, neatly folded. She hesitated before picking one up, pressing the fabric between her fingers.

It smelled like him. Like home.

Her breath hitched.

She had fought for them. She had given everything.

And Max… he had let her.

She placed the shirt back, smoothing it down with trembling fingers before shutting the drawer.

There was nothing left for her here.

Her clothes were gone from the closet. The photos of them that had once decorated the walls had been packed away. It was as if she had never been there.

And maybe that was fitting.

Maybe, in the end, she had always been a ghost in his life—something present but never permanent.

She exhaled shakily, picking up her bags. The apartment door loomed before her, the final threshold between the life she had built and the unknown future waiting beyond it.

As (Y/N) stood in the doorway one last time, she hesitated—just for a second.

MONACO, 2020

The apartment smelled of fresh paint and new beginnings. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the living room in golden afternoon light, the Mediterranean stretching endlessly beyond the balcony. (Y/N) stood in the middle of the half-unpacked chaos, a cardboard box in her hands, watching as Max struggled with assembling a bookshelf. His brows were furrowed in frustration, lips pressed into a thin line as he fumbled with the instructions.

"You know, for someone who drives at 300 kilometers per hour, you’re really bad at putting things together," she teased, biting back a laugh.

Max shot her a glare before tossing the manual aside. "I don’t need instructions," he huffed.

(Y/N) arched her brow. "That’s exactly what someone who definitely needs instructions would say."

With a sigh, Max slumped onto the floor, running a hand through his hair. "I hate this already."

She set the box down and moved to sit beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers. "Maybe if you let me help—"

He turned his head slightly, eyes softening as he looked at her. "You’re really here," he murmured, as if the reality of it was only just sinking in.

She tilted her head, amusement fading into something more tender. "Of course, I’m here. I wouldn’t be anywhere else."

The pandemic had changed everything. Racing was postponed, the world had slowed down, and in the stillness of it all, they had found themselves craving something more permanent. She had just finished her literature degree, unsure of what came next, but when Max asked her to move in, the answer had been easy.

"Are you sure about this?" he had asked her a week before, voice hesitant over the phone.

She had smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. "Max, I’ve basically lived in airports and hotel rooms with you for years. At least this way, I finally get a closet of my own. Besides, I can't spend another minute with my brother and Dad while on lockdown." She said with a laugh, Carlos protests could be heard in the Background.

Now, sitting in their new apartment, surrounded by boxes of their intertwined lives, she reached for his hand. "I think we’re going to be really happy here," she said, squeezing his fingers.

Max exhaled, leaning his forehead against hers. "Yeah," he murmured. "Me too Shatje. Me too."

And for a long time, they were.

How did we end up here?

The truth was simple. She already knew.

She had loved him more than she had loved herself.

Love wasn’t always enough.

People grew, evolved, sometimes in different directions. Some fights were worth having, but others—others only proved how much two people had already lost.

Love wasn’t enough for them. No matter how much they had tried, no matter how much she had wanted to fight for them, it wasn’t enough.

And with that final thought and one last breath, she stepped forward, closing the door behind her, and walked away.

#f1 #fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen one shot #angst #writers on tumblr #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max vertsappen fic #max verstappen angst #Max Verstappen x Sainz! Reader #mv1 #mv33 #mv1 x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n

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mrs-monaghan · 3 months ago

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Just wanted to say that I love reading every single one of your blogs that deals with jikook! You're witty, funny, and very straightforward. I'm so happy I found your blog!

Aww... you're so sweet. Ty!😘 Here, have some random Jkk moments because you're too kind.

Moment 1

Starting with JK not liking that Jimin was pretending to untuck V's shirt

Link

Thats a terrible sound but anyway, the way JK is looking at Jimin though 🤭🤭🤭 that's what betrayal looks like 😂

Moment 2

Then here we all know that one winter package where Jimin went to bed in a sweater JK spent the day in. Well, here is Jimin way back when, doing the same with JK's beanie

Someone likes the way his boyfriend smells. #feels 🥺🥺

Moment 3

How many times have their concepts been similar now?

There is no "you are me i am you" there is just boyfriends copying eo atp

Moment 4

Did we know?

Aint that the cutest thing??? 🥺🥺🥺

Moment 5

Just JK and his muse... NBD

Moment 6

Just quickly gonna bring this hand hold back 🥺🥺 so darn soft!

Moment 7

Stuck like glue since 2015 (aka spot the couple challenge)

Moment 8

So.... turns out Jimin is used to being punched in his sleep

Just incase anyone needed even more proof that Jikook have always slept together...

Moment 9

Even more proof Jikook watch movies together.

Said movie(anime);

Moment 10

When JK forgets himself and shows us how Jimin really makes him feel 🤭

Damn. If your partner's touch doesn't make you look this blissful you ain't doing it right 😂

Moment 11

JK's first IG photo

Jimin's wallpaper

That day at the beach must have really meant alot to them...

Moment 12

When satellite Jimin ruined the fanchant order 😂😂 (I told y'all he does it too!)

That's so hilarious to me guys, I'm sorry 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Moment 13

I will wrap this post up with an analysis. Y'all know how we love those... Basically in 2018 BTS went on a gate away where they rented this one house. So the sus part is that, ALL members got food poisoning EXCEPT for Jikook.

Basically, one night they roasted this meat but JK couldn't join them to eat coz he had a bad headache. So he turned in. Jimin went to take care of him (naturally) and that's how he also ended up not eating the meat.

But that's not even the best part. The best part was RM saying;

See, Namkook were supposed to be roomates during this mini trip except RM's roomie never showed up 🤭🤭 one guess in which room JK was staying 😜

You can find the entire analysis in depth on this twitter thread here

Jikook and their habit of disappearing. Its so funny the amount of times its always them 2 missing 😂 I love it sm!

Thanks again anon! 💛💜

#jikook bothered #jikook matching #bangtan bomb jikook #satellite Jikook #jikook analysis #jikook is real #if jikook isn't real then neither I'm i #ask shaz #bts ask #jikook #kookmin #minkook #jungji #jimin and jungkook #jimin #jungkook #feels #jikook feels #satellite jeon

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months ago

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The first days of Boss Politics Antitrust

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

"Boss politics" are a feature of corrupt societies. When a society is dominated by self-dealing, corrupt institutions, strongman leaders can seize control by appealing to the public's fury and desperation. Then, the boss can selectively punish corrupt entities that oppose him, and since everyone is corrupt, these will be valid prosecutions.

In other words, it's possible to corruptly enforce the law against the guilty. This is just a matter of enforcement priorities: in a legitimate state, enforcers prioritize the wrongdoers who are harming the public the most. Under boss politics, priority is given to the corrupt entities that challenge the boss's power, without regard to whether these lawbreakers are the worst offenders. Meanwhile, worse wrongdoers walk free, provided that they line up behind the boss.

This is how Xi Jinping prosecuted his purges in the run up to his lifetime appointment as Party Secretary (2012-2015). Xi prosecuted the guilty, but not the most guilty. The public officials who were defenstrated and/or imprisoned during Xi's purges were all corrupt, but they were also the power base of Xi's rivals. Meanwhile, corrupt officials in Xi's own orbit were untouched:

https://web.archive.org/web/20181222163946/https://peterlorentzen.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Lorentzen-Lu-Crackdown-Nov-2018-Posted-Version.pdf

Trump is a classic boss politician – that's what people mean when they call him "transactional": he doesn't act out of principle, he acts out of self interest. The people who give him the most get the most back from him. This means that Biden's brightest legacy – militant antitrust enforcement of a type not seen in generations – is now going to become "boss antitrust," where genuine monopolists are attacked under antitrust law, but only if they oppose Trump:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/12/the-enemy-of-your-enemy/#is-your-enemy

We're now living through the first days of boss antitrust. Remember all those monopolistic tech billionaires who donated millions of dollars to Trump's inauguration and arranged themselves in a decorative semicircle behind him on the dias? Trump just went to Davos to speak up for them, arguing that EU and other offshore prosecutions of these companies were attacks on "American businesses" and saying he would defend them with the full might of the US government (this is the same government that, under Biden, secured multiple convictions against these same companies for monopolistic conduct):

https://gizmodo.com/trump-returns-big-techs-ass-kissing-at-davos-2000554158

The Federal Trade Commission has lost its Biden-era chair, the extraordinary Lina Khan, who did more in four years than all her predecessors did in the preceding forty years, combined. The new chair is Republican Andrew Ferguson, whose first day on the job was a bloodbath, in which he killed off multiple, significant actions aimed at producing real, material benefits from Americans who are being absolutely screwed by corporations:

https://prospect.org/politics/2025-01-24-executive-action-reaction-day-4/

Ferguson killed off a public comment process on "surveillance pricing," where companies spy on you and then reprice their goods based on their estimation of how desperate you are:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/11/socialism-for-the-wealthy/#rugged-individualism-for-the-poor

Uber pioneered this when they started increasing the cost of cab rides for riders whose phone batteries were about to die. But other companies took it way further: McDonald's is co-owner of a company called Plexure that sells companies the ability to charge you more for your normal order at the drive-through if you've just been paid:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/05/your-price-named/#privacy-first-again

But surveillance pricing is even worse for workers than it is for shoppers. Nurses in the USA increasingly work for Uber-like nurse-on-demand apps like Shiftkey, Carerev and Shiftmed. These apps can buy nurses' financial data from the unregulated data-broker industry, and then offer nurses with overdue credit-card bills lower wages, on the grounds that they're so desperate they'll take a paycut:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/18/loose-flapping-ends/#luigi-has-a-point

Ferguson also killed off a notice-and-comment action on predatory pricing – when companies sell goods below cost in order to destroy competitors, then drive up prices. This is what Uber did, setting $31b of Saudi royal money on fire over 13 years, losing $0.41 on every dollar they brought in. This killed off all the regular taxis, and convinced city governments to abandon public transit investment on the grounds that Uber was cheaper than a bus. Once they'd captured the market, Uber doubled the price of a ride and halved the wages that they paid drivers.

So this is what Ferguson has killed off. In its place, Ferguson has instituted an internal action, aimed at rooting out "DEI" and "wokeness." The agency's top priority right now is running a snitch line where FTC officials can rat each other out for being anti-racist. This isn't just offensive, of course – it's also deeply unserious. Even if you stipulate that "woke" has some meaning (it doesn't, but go with me here), then killing off all the "woke" at the FTC will not make Americans more prosperous, let alone protect them from corporate predators.

In his dissenting statement, FTC Commissioner Alvaro Bedoya didn't mince words:

Andrew Ferguson could have made his first public act as Chairman a motion to study the rising cost of groceries. He could have acted on a pending public petition from a group of wall and ceiling contractors to investigate how lawbreaking contractors can effectively rig contract competitions in the commercial construction industry. He could have moved to investigate a pending public petition from shrimpers from Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama to investigate potentially false and misleading claims about shrimp imports from India that are farmed with forced labor and shot full of antibiotics…

I have met with corn growers and cattlemen in Iowa. I have met with shrimpers in Biloxi. I have met with pharmacists in Knoxville, grocers in Tulsa, and patients and their doctors in Charleston, West Virginia. I met with the men who build Miami’s million-dollar skyscrapers in 110-degree heat.

Let me tell you what they didn’t talk about: “DEI.”

What they do talk about is how powerful companies are skirting or abusing the law to force farmers, workers, and small businessmen to do what they want, when they want, or else. How the government isn’t doing anything about it. And how they’re going broke because of it

But Chairman Ferguson seems uninterested in the challenges that regular human beings face.

https://www.ftc.gov/system/files/ftc_gov/pdf/bedoya-statement-emergency-motion.pdf

Bedoya is still hanging in there at the FTC; these administrative agency appointments outlast the presidents that made them. It's common for agency heads to step down when there's a changeover – Lina Khan didn't stay – but the commissioners often hang in there. I hope Bedoya stays at the FTC: he's one of the good ones and we're all better off for his presence.

There's one Biden agency head who hasn't left, and surprisingly, it's one of Biden's best appointees: Rohit Chopra, head of the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau. Chopra is the first CFPB head to explore just how much power this new-ish agency has, and has seen his far-reaching, muscular regulations upheld unanimously by the Supreme Court.

Trump's corporate backers hate the CFPB, and Elon Musk really hates the CFBP, and crypto grifters really, really hate the CFPB. Ironically, the demonization of the CFPB seems to be the key to Chopra's enduring tenure. According to David Dayen at The American Prospect, no one in Trumpland wants his job. The Supreme Court ruled in 2020 that presidents can fire CFPB heads, but there's no one who wants to replace Chopra and take their turn in the barrel:

https://prospect.org/economy/2025-01-24-rohit-chopra-still-has-a-job/

Chopra's using his time well: he's brought a flurry of new actions, most lately against the credit bureau giant Transunion. And in the final weeks of the Biden administration, Chopra launched a whole boatload of enforcements, investigations, and other actions against the most predatory companies in America. As Dayen notes, over the past four years, Chopra has forced American rip-off businesses to pay back $6b in stolen loot, and to cough up more than $3.2b in fines.

Replacing Chopra is hard for Trump in part because Trump has imposed a federal hiring freeze. That means that anyone who replaces Chopra has to already be working for the US government, and all the finance grifters are cashing out of the government to go work for giant financial institutions they've been carrying water for while drawing a public salary. Even the people who might take the job can't, because then no one could be hired to do their job – for example, there's a ghoul at the FDIC who'd fit the bill, but if he takes over from Chopra, then the FDIC will have just two members. If the GOP stooge on the FCC quits to take the job, then the Democratic commissioners will have a majority. You love to see it, really.

But – as Dayen points out – they're almost certainly gonna give Chopra the axe eventually. When they do, the CFPB will continue to do some enforcements. It's likely that Ferguson will eventually direct the FTC to do something apart from peering under their beds looking for "woke." When they do take action, they'll probably take action against companies that are wildly, lavishly corrupt. After all, that describes basically all of American big business, a sector that has festered thanks to 40 years of antitrust negligence.

It will be tempting for Trump's opponents to decide that if Trump hates these giant, evil companies, well, then, they must be good. Think of when "progressives" fell in love with the "intelligence community" just because a couple spooks decided they hated Trump. The FBI isn't your friend, folks – this is the agency that tried to blackmail MLK into killing himself:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FBI%E2%80%93King_letter

The enemy of your enemy? Still your enemy, provided that they're a big, predatory monopolist. Boss politics is about punishing corruption – selectively. Trump-style antitrust is going to target a ton of bad businesses. That won't make them good.

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/24/enforcement-priorities/#enemies-lists

#pluralistic

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batbabydamian · 5 months ago

Note

what is your fav damian/robin outfit- canon, hc or elsewise? i love the way you draw damian btw!!

visually, it would have to be the Patrick Gleason/Jonboy Meyers Rebirth suit read Robin: Son of Batman (2015)!

Jonboy Meyers concept art and Robin: Son of Batman (2015) #1

so many iconic bits - his hood!! tunic!! red and green lace-up knee-high boots!! extra gold accents!! really solid shapes and details that can translate well in any artist's style!! idk it's a design that looks good in almost any hands, whether it's in rest or action

few of my fav artists drawing this suit:

Robin: Son of Batman (2015) #4

ofc Patrick Gleason!! chunky lace-up boot to face! fluttering gold accented hood/cape! also my excuse to show off this ridiculously cool panel look at Damian's stabby bracers and narrowly missing a scar to his eye

Super Sons (2017) #2 and #15

love how Jorge Jimenez leans into the drapery bits, like Damian's cape/hood and bottom of his tunic that really accents his slim design and sharp posing. he's probably my fav example of using Damian's suit details for extra energy in the secondary action down to his shoe laces!!

Adventures of the Super Sons (2018) Covers #12 and #3

it's Dan Mora LOL idk what else to say...anything looks sleek. the second pic is just cool posing to me - capturing the twisting and arcing leap in midair RAD

Challenge of the Super Sons (2020) #2

Jorge Corona's one of my absolute favs in the industry, his traditional inks and overall style is so shaped! textured! frenetic! it's always fun to see how he translates designs, and you can see his style/Damian evolution in Robin War (2015) #1, Nightwing (2016) #42 (DICK & DAMIAN + WIGGLES!!), Challenge of the Super Sons (2020) #2-3, and Robin (2021) #4!

The Boy Wonder (2024) #1 and Truth & Justice (2021) #6

Juni Ba's rendition of the suit!! especially adding that lil bird skull🥺 along with Corona, Ba's style exaggerates some details and proportions for extra appeal, like Damian swimming in his hood and cape!! his big ribbony boot laces!!

sentimentally, Damian's original Robin suit by Frank Quitely is my fav - the blueprint for his hood and lace-up boots!! it always makes me think of Batman and Robin (2009) especially #4 🥺

Dick calls out the disadvantage of Damian's hood, even physically challenging him. then it rains and Damian gives Dick this smug look, but Dick just smiles in good humor 😭

The Batman Files has a drawing and note that says it's Dick's design for Damian's Robin uniform, which contradicts the comic but i still think it's cute to mention!! like maybe Damian wasn't satisfied by Dick's work until he would add a hood, so there's older drafts somewhere in the cave lol

#ask #anon #rambling #and thank you! 🥺🫶#i love his current suit but i get wary about how an artist will handle it in a comic and it becomes a hit or miss 😭#sorry for the long post!! if you ask me specific fav things about Damian i'm going to yap sdfgfh #i still have an ask deep in my drafts about fav Damian moment and i'm so sorry i never replied...i made 2 different lists and lost steam 😭

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swan-of-sunrise · 30 days ago

Text

Heaven-Sent

Summary: The morning after Steve and (Y/N)’s much-anticipated first time together, as shown through the eyes of a romantic and love-struck super-soldier.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Disclaimer for implied sexy times

A/N: Hi there! Since the last couple of Superhero Snapshots were on the angsty side, I figured that you guys deserved some fluff and a hint of spice, so here it is! Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoy!

Heaven-Sent November 2015 The Home of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Sam Wilson, Washington D.C. (Superhero Snapshots Masterlist)

Ignoring the super-soldier serum flowing through his veins and putting aside his role as the leader of the Avengers, Steve Rogers’ morning routine was remarkably ordinary. He was roused from his slumber by the shrill sound of his alarm clock at five-thirty and was out the door by five-forty-five, embarking on his early morning run; the others found it challenging to keep pace with him, so he often only had his battered MP3 player and its many energizing playlists for company. When he promptly returned to the Avengers Facility at seven o’clock, he took a shower and headed to their shared kitchen to whip up some breakfast just as his sleep-riddled teammates began to emerge from their suites. During missions, his morning run became his morning push-ups-and-sit-ups regiment and his breakfast usually consisted of instant coffee and granola bars, but the routine remained regardless.

That particular morning, however, Steve was slowly roused from his deep slumber by the warm rays of sunlight streaming in through the bedroom windows and the chirping of birds in the trees outside. With a content hum, he unfurled his arms from around his pillow and rolled over onto his back, bringing a hand up to rub at his sleep-filled eyes and stifle his exhausted yawn; he blinked his eyes open, momentarily surprised to find himself lounging in (Y/N)’s bed, but memories of the night before flooded his mind when he spotted some of their clothing strewn across the floor and a familiar black lace bra dangling off of the bedside lamp’s shade, prompting a love-struck grin to slowly spread across his face as he replayed the beginning of their perfect evening together…

“So…” (Y/N) slowly began, a bashful grin spreading across her face as she turned to face him and held her hands behind her back. Her (Y/E/C) eyes sparkled under the dim glow of the overhead porch light, and Steve found himself stunned by her beauty for the umpteenth time that evening; he’d done everything he could not to ogle her all throughout dinner, but the off-the-shoulder black cocktail dress hugged her curves in the most scintillating way and its daring neckline nearly brought him to his knees in the middle of the restaurant.

Steve chuckled and mirrored his girlfriend’s stance with a playful smile. “So…?”

The historical-fiction novelist took a step forward, and the look of desire in her intense gaze forced him to swallow thickly and hold his breath in anticipation. “We’ve had a wonderful evening together and I really don’t want it to end just yet, so would you like to come inside for a cup of coffee?”

“Coffee, huh?” Steve moved closer and pretended to ponder her question. “Well, it all depends, sunshine.”

(Y/N) softly bit her crimson-hued bottom lip and tilted her head to the side in faux inquisitiveness. “On?”

“Whether you’re inviting me inside for a cup of coffee…” One of Steve’s hands moved to rest on her waist while the other cupped the warm skin of her cheek, the both of them leaning in towards one another. “Or if you’ve got something else in mind.”

“You’re a very, very intelligent man, sweetheart.” The historical-fiction novelist’s breath fanned over Steve’s lips but before they could connect with hers, she flashed him a mischievous smile and slipped out of his embrace to stand at the porch railing; he grinned at her unabashed teasing and followed after her, standing behind her and wrapping his hands around the railing to cage her in between his arms “As a matter of fact, there is something else I had in mind.”

Bending down, Steve nuzzled his nose against her neck and breathed in the sweet scent of her perfume, her breath hitching when his lips purposefully brushed against her pulse point. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm,” (Y/N) hummed as she turned to face him, leaning back against the railing and looking up at him through her long lashes while a seductive smile played on her lips. “And I’ve got a feeling that you’re thinking of the same thing that I am. Would you like to know how I know?” Steve, entranced by how beautiful she looked in the pale moonlight, wet his dry lips and mutely nodded. “Because you’re looking at me like I’m the most profound revelation of your life.”

“You are…” Steve slid his arms around his girlfriend’s waist and pulled her against his chest, all too aware of her elevated heartbeat and the lustful gleam in her eyes as he met her heavy gaze. “You’re my everything, baby. My Tiny Dancer, remember?”

Bashfully smiling at his use of his special nickname for her, (Y/N) slung her arms around his neck and dreamily sighed. “Just when I think I couldn’t possibly fall any deeper in love with you, you go and say the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard and I go weak at the knees.”

“And I’ll gladly catch you each and every time, sunshine; if I could, I’d hold you in my arms forever, just like this.” Steve’s gaze flicked down to focus on her purple garnet pendant, a wave of insecurity suddenly taking hold and causing his heart to race. “For full transparency, though, I…um, I haven’t really done this since before I went into the ice. I’ve been on dates, of course, and I’ve gotten a couple of bases in but…well, no home-run this century.”

“Sweetheart, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to-”

“I do!” He hastily interrupted and blushed at his over-eagerness. “Believe me, I can’t think of anything I wanna do more than to take you inside and make love to you, but…” Taking a deep breath, Steve glanced up to meet the historical-fiction novelist’s understanding gaze. “I just want tonight to be perfect for you, and I’m afraid that it won’t be.”

(Y/N)’s eyes softened as she cupped his face between her hands and gently stroked his cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs. “But don’t you see, sweetheart? It’ll be perfect because I’ll be with you.” Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest as he stared at her in silent admiration. “Oh God, was that too cheesy? I’m-”

Steve’s lips descended onto (Y/N)’s and interrupted her rambling apology; he poured all of his love and lust for her into his kiss, holding her even tighter and reveling in the feeling of her body pressed against his. (Y/N) recovered from her surprise and eagerly reciprocated, deepening their kiss and drawing a breathy moan from him when her fingernails scraped along his scalp as her fingers carded through his hair. When they finally broke apart for some much-needed air, Steve trailed kisses along her cheek and jawline, whispering against her flushed skin, “I want this, (Y/N). I want you.”

“I want you too, Steve,” (Y/N) breathed, tilting her head to the side and drawing him closer as he pressed kisses onto the soft skin of her neck. “I think…oh, sweetheart…I-I think it’s time to take this inside before we traumatize the neighbors.”

With great reluctance, Steve pulled himself away and offered her his hand with a smile. “Lead the way, baby.”

The historical-fiction novelist latched onto his hand and practically dragged him over to the front door; when she dropped his hand to rummage through her purse for her keys, he stood behind her and rested his hands on her waist, biting his lip in amusement when she struggled to unlock the door and cursed under her breath. “You’d better not be laughing at me back there,” She warned without any real anger in her voice as she turned the key in the deadbolt. “Otherwise, this night’ll end before it’s even begun.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior…” The moment the front door swung open, Steve scooped (Y/N) up into his arms with ease, grinning mischievously as she burst into a flurry of surprised giggles. “Mostly.”

“Mmm, I’m counting on it.” Smirking, (Y/N) looped her arms around his neck and kissed him, and Steve lost himself in the blissful feeling of her lips on his as he carried her into the house and kicked the front door closed behind him…

With a satisfied smile on his face, Steve crossed his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, happiness blooming in his chest as he let out a content sigh. It had been the single most enjoyable night of his life – their movements fervent yet oh so gentle as they drew both sinful sounds of pleasure and bursts of shy giggles from one another, their joined hands pressed against the soft sheets as they surrendered themselves over to their desires, their shared passion finally reaching its highest crescendo as a galaxy of stars exploded in Steve’s line of vision and (Y/N) buried her face in his neck to muffle her beautiful gasps – and he couldn’t think of any other way to describe it other than divine. He hadn’t been drunk since 1942 but that night, he was intoxicated by her; her warmth, her softness, her scent, her unconditional love…everything about her drove him beyond madness, clouded his mind in the best way imaginable until only thoughts of her remained. Being with (Y/N) was the closest he’d ever felt to anyone before or after emerging from the ice, the closest he’d ever felt to heaven itself, and the culmination of their most carnal passions only confirmed what he’d known to be true for months: (Y/N) (Y/L/N), his beautiful, intelligent and courageous sunshine, was the love of his life.

Steve glanced over at (Y/N)’s vacant side of the bed and was starting to wonder where she’d gone when he heard the faint sound of his girlfriend singing along to a cheerful ‘60’s Motown song in the kitchen; the smell of maple syrup and pancakes drove any lingering immodest thoughts from his mind as his stomach growled, and he huffed out a quiet laugh before getting up to slip his boxers on and quietly padding down the hallway. When he reached the kitchen, he leaned a shoulder against the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest, a familiar warmth blooming in his chest as he studied his girlfriend from afar.

The historical-fiction novelist hadn’t noticed his presence, too engrossed in flipping pancakes on the griddle and singing along to the lively song that was playing from Sam’s stereo system; she was wrapped in a satin cherry blossom-patterned robe and a cheery smile illuminated her features as she sang, a smile that adorably widened when she flipped a pancake high into the air and successfully caught it on its descent with a plate while she swayed to the upbeat tempo. With the ongoing editing of her second soon-to-be released novel and the added stress of balancing their blossoming relationship with his unpredictable mission schedule, it was good to see her so relaxed and carefree for a change, and Steve couldn’t help but feel a surge of masculine pride for the part he played in her cheerful mood.

“Now this funny feeling has me amazed, don’t know what to do, my head’s in a haze, it’s like a heat wave! Yeah yeah, yeah-” (Y/N) twirled around in a circle and yelped in surprise when she finally noticed Steve, almost dropping the heaping plate of pancakes but quickly stopping herself as she flashed him a sheepish smile. “Um…surprise! It’s no secret that I’m not the best cook in the world, but I do know how to read the instructions on the back of the Krusteaz bag and I figured your super-soldier stomach was in need of sustenance, so I hope that you like pancakes.”

Steve hadn’t woken up with the expectation of getting emotional over a plate of slightly-overdone pancakes but there he was, standing in the messy kitchen with his eyes stinging and a lump forming in his throat as his kindhearted girlfriend beamed at him. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had made him breakfast – or any meal, for that matter – and while he’d always thrived as a caretaker to others and valued his independence, a part of him always wondered what it would feel like to be the one being taken care of for a change. I don’t think I’ll ever have to wonder again, he thought to himself as his smile slowly widened. He crossed the kitchen, his hands gently cupping her cheeks and angling her face upwards to give her a tender kiss, pulling away with great reluctance and finally finding his voice. “I love pancakes. Thank you, sunshine.”

(Y/N)’s eyes softened as she smiled back, and it was clear to see that she understood the implications behind his appreciation. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She handed him the plate and nodded towards the stools at the kitchen counter. “Now, dig in before they get cold while I finish making mine.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chuckling, Steve took a seat and began pouring a liberal amount of maple syrup over his pancakes while (Y/N) dolloped more thick batter onto the hot griddle. “So, did you…um, did you have a good night?”

Steve mentally kicked himself for sounding so awkward but his girlfriend thankfully took his discomfort in stride. “I had a fantastic night, actually.” She tipped some coffee into her ‘Professional Bookworm’ mug and slid it across the counter towards him, and Steve caught the apprehension that quickly flashed across her face when her eyes timidly met his. “And you?”

“It was perfect, sunshine. You were perfect,” Steve assured her, his hand reaching across the counter to rest atop hers as he continued. “Trust me, I’m not exaggerating when I say that last night was the best night of my life.”

(Y/N) self-consciously ducked her head at his earnest words and affectionate tone and Steve’s heart swelled at the sight. He started on his breakfast while she finished preparing hers, unable to keep the content smile off his face and unwilling to take his eyes off the historical-fiction novelist as she worked; she seemed to be having a similar dilemma herself, nearly dropping the bottle of orange juice at one point and being forced to rescue a pancake from a charred fate not too long after, all because she’d been distracted by his smiles and heated gaze. When she took a seat beside him at the counter, her bare knee brushed against his and sent a pleasant jolt up his spine, the pleased smirk playing on her lips confirming that she knew exactly what sort of affect she had on him; It took me ninety-seven years, but I finally understand what it means to see heaven on earth, he thought as he smiled contentedly into his coffee mug.

“Can I ask you a question, sweetheart?”

Steve looked up from his pancakes to see an endearingly inquisitive expression gracing his girlfriend’s features. “Of course.”

“When did you finally…seal the deal?” (Y/N) inquired; there was no trace of jealousy in her tone or resentment in her eyes, only innocent curiosity. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I was just wondering whether it happened before or after Project Rebirth.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind answering, sunshine.” Shrugging his shoulders, Steve took another bite of food and downed it with another sip of coffee before answering. “It was after; I’m pretty sure my asthma alone would’ve killed me if I tried doin’ anything like what we did last night before the serum.” She giggled a little at that and he felt himself starting to blush as he continued. “Yeah, it happened while I was on that damn USO tour of America in the summer of ‘43. We’d just finished up a show in Buffalo when one of the chorus girls found me hiding out backstage and asked me if I wanted a drink; from there, one thing led to another and then…” He chuckled to himself. “It was okay, I guess, and Joanie was nice enough but after a few weeks of sneakin’ around with her, I decided that I’d rather just wait for the right partner and we decided to break it off. Besides Joanie, you’re the only other woman I’ve ever gone all the way with.” (Y/N) nodded in understanding and Steve was suddenly filled with a little curiosity himself. “Is it okay to ask about your-?”

“Of course it is, Steve!” The historical-fiction novelist quickly reassured him, resting her hand on his forearm and giving him an encouraging smile. “Two of the best things about the twenty-first century is the rejection of purity culture and the encouragement of open communication within relationships. My first time was during my freshman year of college, with my boyfriend Travis; just as we were getting into it, he smacked his head on the corner of my dresser and had to get four stitches at the E.R., so I suppose you could say that it was a night to remember.”

Steve winced. “Please tell me it got better from there.”

“With Travis? Nope, that asshat dumped me a week later with the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, but there were a couple of other guys after him. I dated Kenneth throughout my first year of grad school – he was sweet, but our masters degrees took us in two different directions and we decided to call it quits – and I went on a couple of dates with Marc, a Marine between deployments I met when I went out for drinks with Sam at Barracks Row; we both knew it wasn’t anything serious and while he was a perfect gentleman, I could tell that he was struggling with some personal issues and wasn’t really in the right mindset for a relationship. A couple of months after Marc and I went our separate ways, my dumb-ass roommate decided to try and race Captain America around the National Mall and…” She took another bite of her pancakes and gave him a flirtatious wink. “Well, here we are.”

“Here we are,” Steve repeated with a bashful grin that widened as his super-soldier hearing picked up her elevated heartbeat and warming skin.

The two of them enjoyed the rest of their breakfast together, listening to Sam’s Motown CD and chatting about anything and everything that came to their minds. When they finished eating, Steve offered to clean the whole kitchen himself but after a lighthearted debate regarding the unspoken rules of hospitality, he reluctantly agreed to wash the dishes while (Y/N) dried and put them away. The historical-fiction novelist sang along to each song that played without missing a single lyric and Steve even found himself humming along while they worked, smiling to himself as he reveled in the charming domesticity of it all; for the briefest of moments, he allowed his eyes to drift closed and he worked to commit their perfect morning to memory, not wanting to forget a single moment of it. I’d give everything I have if it meant I could spend every morning of the rest of my life like this, he silently admitted to himself, opening his eyes to steal another glance at (Y/N) and finding himself admiring the way she practically glowed under the morning sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window.

After rinsing the last of the soap suds down the drain, Steve switched the faucet off and turned away from the sink. “There, all done. You know, we make a pretty good dishwashing duo-”

Steve’s words were abruptly cut off when (Y/N)’s hands cradled his face and she pulled him close before crashing her lips against his, causing him to grunt in surprise as his hands landed on her waist to stabilize her. The softness of her lips on his coupled with the taste of maple syrup caused Steve’s mind to go blank, and his eyes slid closed in bliss while he returned her tender kiss; his arms wrapped around her waist and when he tugged her closer, she gasped against his lips and he chuckled before kissing her with renewed passion. While one of his arms held her securely against him, his other hand slid up her satin-covered curves and caressed her cheek, her flushed skin nearly scorching the pad of his thumb as it skimmed the length of her cheekbone. With a pleased hum, the historical-fiction novelist buried a hand into his mussed hair, the feel of her nails scratching along his scalp forcing him to suppress his desperate moan; his efforts were immediately dashed when her other hand sneakily found a home at the back of his boxers and playfully squeezed.

“Christ, baby,” Steve groaned against her smiling lips as a spark of desire igniting within him. In an instant, he lifted her up with ease and set her down onto the kitchen island before trailing kisses along the exposed column of her throat, murmuring against her heated skin, “You’re kind of a tease, you know that?”

(Y/N) giggled as his lips latched onto the delicate patch of skin just below her jawline. “It’s not my fault that you’ve got one fine ass, sweetheart. I was simply admiring a masterpiece.”

Reluctantly drawing away from her neck, Steve’s head tilted to the side as he studied his breathless girlfriend, a loving smile spreading across his face that was accompanied by the smallest of head-shakes. “The only masterpiece I see is sittin’ right in front of me, sunshine.” (Y/N) beamed and her eyes shone with tender affection as she leaned forward and kissed the bridge of his nose; Steve’s hands firmly grasped her waist, fingers flexing along the soft satin of her robe when she initiated another passionate kiss and his need for her growing stronger with every caress of her lips.

Before either of them could deepen their kiss, the buzzing of Steve’s cell phone filled the kitchen and abruptly brought them back to reality. (Y/N), nearly panting as she rested her forehead against his and unwound her arms from around his neck, flashed him a dazed sort of smile and nodded. “Go ahead and get that, I’ll just sit here and catch my breath.”

Steve chuckled, giving her another kiss before crossing into the living room to retrieve his crumpled slacks he’d discarded on the floor the night before; fishing his cell phone out of his pocket, his brow furrowed when he saw Natasha’s name appear on the screen and he quickly answered the call. “Nat?”

“Wow, someone sounds a little crabby this morning. Sleepless night?”

Steve’s eyes flicked over to (Y/N), who’d hopped down from the counter and was going along scooping up the trail of clothes that led to her bedroom, and he smiled to himself before answering, “Yeah, something like that. What’s up?”

“We’ve got a lead on Adrien Pullman, one of Rumlow’s mercenary friends; our intel puts him and his crew in a safe house about five miles outside of San Juan.”

“How fresh is this intel?”

“Farm-fresh. It’s your call, Steve, but I don’t know when we’re gonna get another chance like this.”

Leaning against the back of the couch, Steve ran his free hand through his hair as he weighed the situation, ultimately coming to the conclusion that the spy was correct. “All right, we’ll go. Get Sam and Wanda up to speed on Pullman and his crew, and I’ll meet you guys at JBA in an hour.”

“Will-do. Oh, and tell (Y/N) I said hi!”

“I-wait, how’d you know I was with…?”

“I’m a trained spy, Steve; you’ve got that ‘I got laid last night and I’m wasting the morning away basking in the glory of my smoking-hot author girlfriend’ lilt in your voice.” Natasha’s blunt explanation caused Steve to blush and she snickered. “And I’ll bet you anything that you look like an heirloom tomato right now. See you in an hour, and don’t forget to wear protection!”

Steve’s blush darkened as the spy abruptly ended the call, and he tossed his cell phone onto the couch before chuckling at himself; ninety-seven years old and I’m blushing like a goddamn teenager, he silently observed, a smile reluctantly forming on his lips at the absurdity of his circumstances. “Steve?” He glanced up to see (Y/N) standing in front of him, their clothes slung over her arm and a concerned frown on her face. “Everything okay?”

“A last-minute mission to Puerto Rico just came up, and I’ve gotta be at Joint Base Andrews in an hour.” He offered her an apologetic look and reached out to take her free hand. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N), I was really looking forward to spending the day with you.”

With an understanding smile, the historical-fiction novelist leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss onto his forehead, waiting until his gaze met hers to speak. “Sweetheart, I’m dating Captain America; last-minute missions and cancelled plans are pretty much a given in your profession, and I’d be naïve not to understand that by now. All that matters to me is that after Cap gives ‘em hell out there, Steve Rogers comes home safe to me.”

If Steve hadn’t been leaning against the back of the couch, his girlfriend’s sweet sincerity and the kindhearted gleam in her (Y/E/C) eyes would’ve instantly made him go weak at the knees; instead, he brought their joined hands up to his lips and pressed a reverent kiss onto her knuckles before breaking out into a dopey smile. “You’re heaven-sent, you know that?”

“Funny, that’s exactly what I was thinking about you,” (Y/N) softly replied, kissing the bridge of his nose and giggling when his face scrunched up at the ticklish sensation. “C’mon, super-soldier, I’ll drive you to Joint Base Andrews after we take a shower.”

Steve’s brow shot up in surprise. “We?”

“I, um…well, yes? Y-You know, you’re right, that was a little presumptuous of me, just forget I said anything-”

(Y/N)’s anxious rambling was cut off when Steve surged forward and captured her lips in a searing kiss; the pile of clothes were unceremoniously dropped onto the ground and her arms wrapped around his neck as she returned his kiss with equal enthusiasm. When a lack of air forced them apart, Steve smirked roguishly at (Y/N) as she worked on catching her breath. “I’ve never showered with a beautiful dame before, but I’ve always wanted to.”

The historical-fiction novelist hummed in playful interest. “Is that so? Well, we should really remedy that, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve agreed and with a teasing grin, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bathroom while their lips pressing together in a ravenous kiss.

Arriving at Joint Base Andrews over fifteen minutes late, Steve said his goodbyes to (Y/N) at the main gate and jogged across the tarmac to the Quinjet, where Natasha and Sam were impatiently waiting on the aircraft’s extended ramp and a bored Wanda was levitating his vibranium shield into the air with her powers. Sam ribbed him for his uncharacteristic tardiness, eying the fading love bite on his neck with a mixture of pride and apprehension, his sibling-like relationship with (Y/N) no doubt conflicting with his happiness for him, and Wanda handed over his shield before reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a ten dollar bill, which Natasha smugly accepted as they trooped up the ramp. Steve was unfazed by his teammates’ behavior, entirely consumed with thoughts of (Y/N) and the passion-filled morning they’d shared; it looks like we’ve created a much more pleasurable morning routine to stick to, he smiled to himself, changing into his uniform and whistling a light-hearted tune all the while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I've tried writing smut several times over the years, and I've pretty much accepted that this is as close as I'll ever get to giving you guys spice lol thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist

Stumblin’ In Book VI: “Endgame” Masterlist

Tagging: @mrs-obrien @lahoete @awkward117 @fanficfandomlove @momc95 @savedbystyle @awkwardnesshabitat @marinettepotterandplagg @benakenalove @brooke0297 @hufflepeople @outoftheregular @junipermurdock @mads-weasley @username23345 @crist1216 @capswife @lilmschild @crowleysqueenofhell @mary1raven @groovy-lady @ljej95 @toostrangerkid @prettysbliss

#superhero snapshots #stumblin' in #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x f!reader #captain america x reader #captain america x f!reader #steve rogers #captain america #sam wilson #falcon #natasha romanoff #black widow #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #marvel cinematic universe

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rubyreadd · 4 months ago

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i keep having this recurring thought abt th 2010s grid fuckfest thats like seb wld react to mark n jense the way straight men do to lesbians all "idgaf if theyre doing spygate 2.0 lemme see the sextape" but with mark n nando it would be blinding rage "why r they standing so close alonso is fucking our team secrets out of mark we cant let this stand hes mine by right i mean this is a matter of rb security separate them now"

As soon as I read your ask I thought about this clip from 2015 where Lee Mackenzie asks Sebastian if he considers Lewis and Nico's rivalry to be of equal intensity to the rivalry he had with Mark, and with nary a breath of hesitation Sebastian says no; he and Mark were thee rivalry.

Of course this interview takes place before The Incident that was the entirety of 2016, but I've always felt it revealed something crucial about Sebastian's psyche regarding his time with Mark as team mates. Sebastian won all four championships with Mark at his side, writing himself into the ledger with the blood and sweat and champagne spilt by his and Mark's relationship. Sebastian's career with Red Bull is inextricably shaped by Mark and therefore so are his achievements, which by association makes Mark his too.

All of this to say yes I agree wholeheartedly with everything you wrote in your ask. Mark and Jenson are Sebastian's two anglosphere boytoys that he indulges in from his cuck chaise lounge. Jenson isn't of any particular threat to Sebastian's title bids so his long standing friendship with Mark is just the narrative cherry on top of their sucking and fucking.

Fernando however is that persistent thorn in his side, the foremost challenger to Sebastian's wants: points, podiums, Mark. What are Fernando and Mark's many years of friendship to Sebastian and Mark's bond forged in the crucible of competition? What is Fernando's silver tongue promising greatness at Ferrari to Sebastian's hands showing Mark that he is needed at Red Bull? What is the easy softness of Fernando and Mark's bodies against each other to the vicious knowing of Sebastian and Mark's bodies skin against skin?

Sebastian has never let anything go without a fight, and he's not about to start with Mark.

As an aside, I've had an idea ticking around in the back of my mind for a while now about an AU where Mark leaves RedBull in 2011 to sign with Ferrari from 2012-2014, and crucially, goes on to win the wdc in 2014. I thought it would be an interesting exercise to dissect how Sebastian would handle losing Mark to his closest non-Red Bull rival, particularly at a time when their relationship has become professionally strained. Mark's Ferrari wdc however is the emotional lynch pin of this idea because Sebastian will never win one. When Mark retires from F1 at the end of 2014, it's Sebastian who fills his seat. Mark's team, Mark's telemetry, Mark's side of the garage - all his and yet not enough.

#always a pleasure meeting minds with you macbeth! you always get exactly what flavour of sebmark i'm after #i have another response to an older ask of yours in the works that i promise i will post soon #asks #ruby speaks #mark webber #sebastian vettel #fernando alonso #jenson button #martian #butter #webbonso

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good-night-space-kid · 6 months ago

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Geology and The Terror

As a geologist who is incapable of turning off their geology brain even while watching shows for fun, one of the things that baffles me a bit about The Terror is why they continuously refer to the landscape as shale when both King William Island and the filming location in Pag, Croatia are dominated by limestone. Given the desolation of the landscape, the geology is rather at the forefront of many scenes so it was fun to try and parse it out as I watched.

King William Island, Nunavut, Canada

According to the official map of the bedrock of the region as published by the Canadian government (Harrison et al., 2015), the entirety of King William Island is mapped as dolostone, dolomitic limestone, and limestone with only minor components of shale, sandstone, conglomerate, and breccia. This is a shelf marine deposit dating back to the Late Cambrian, so this is very old sedimentary rock but younger than most of the surrounding hard rock that composes various parts of the Canadian shield. Notably, the pink units mapped on the Boothia Peninsula are Paleoproterozoic in age (2.5-1.6 billion years old), potentially up to 2 billion years older than the limestones of King William Island.

(This is an absolutely massive .pdf file with some scaled features so I would recommend viewing via the official publication to actually read anything or see fine details: publications.gc.ca/pub?id=9.557274&sl=0)

Notably, this map was published in 2015, 8 years after the novel was written. However, according to the bibliography for the map (which can be accessed via the previous link) a preliminary geologic map has existed for the area since at least 1967, though I was unable to track this publication down online. The novel was clearly thoroughly researched and Dan Simmons could have easily accessed this publication and others through multiple institutions.

The surficial geology of King William Island has also been mapped, and is predominantly glacial, as one would expect given it's location. For those unfamiliar with glacial geology processes, this is basically saying that the bedrock is buried under a bunch of glacial deposits. Glacial till is composed of rocks and sediments plucked from the bedrock and ground up. This is why the surface of the island is not one big rock, but a bunch of smaller pieces. Interestingly, the material on the southern part of the island is sandier because it contains more material derived from the Canadian Shield further south. If you're interested in glacial geology, I highly recommend zooming around a bit on Google Earth because the features here are GORGEOUS.

(This map is absolutely massive and the lines scale with zoom so it's hard to see at this resolution, access it here: publications.gc.ca/pub?id=9.834073&sl=0)

(Google Earth Pro, satellite imagery from 2020)

According to the surface geology map and Google Earth, the actual landscape of King William Island is much more water logged than it appears in the show. It's not entirely impossible that there has been some geomorphological change since 1848, but most of the features mapped would have been formed during the last ice age and as the glaciers melted and not more recently. This would have been handy for the men of the Franklin Expedition because each of these pools is filled with freshwater.

Pag, Croatia

Tracking down a geologic map of Croatia was somewhat challenging as I don't speak Croatian. I was able to find a map of the whole country, and while it's all in Croatian the symbol for the geologic time periods is universal so time periods can be correlated. This shows that the units that make up Pag are Cretaceous and Paleocene-Eocene in age.

(Map accessed here: https://www.hgi-cgs.hr/en/geoloska-karta-republike-hrvatske-1300-000/)

I was able to find a .pdf (access here: http://kig.kartografija.hr/index.php/kig/article/view/158/274) that had a bit more information on the map above but at a lower resolution. This states that the Cretaceous units are dominantly carbonates from the Adriatic sea and the Eocene units are also carbonates. This makes sense as both the Cretaceous and Paleocene-Eocene boundary/PETM are times of increased global temperature correlated with increases in global sea level.

As always, the best geology website out there, Macrostrat, also came through on the unit lithologies. I was unable to access the source listed on Macrostrat, but both the Cretaceous (green) and Paleocene-Eocene units (orange) are listed as limestone.

(Source: https://macrostrat.org/map/#x=16&y=23&z=2)

One of the best views that we get of the geology on Pag is the last scene with Bridgens in episode 9. During the zoom out of this scene we get a really nice view of the bedrock and debris covering it.

Given all of this, I'm really not sure where the landscape description as shale came from. If there is historical precedence for calling the rocks on the island shale, let me know! I have read a few books but none of the primary sources from the expeditions to this region, so if it comes from that I wouldn't be surprised.

Overall though, I have to say that the filming location was well chosen given the similarities it holds to the geology of King William Island.

#the terror #i have no idea whether this is of interest to anybody else #but i haven't been able to stop thinking about it since i started the show #because obviously the first thing i did was open up macrostrat to see what the geology was like #geology #peter posts #fr though the scene with bridgens is top tier in terms of getting a good view of the geology #it only took me three watches of the show to cave and make a post about it #franklin expedition

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justinspoliticalcorner · 4 months ago

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Christopher Wiggins at The Advocate:

Idaho Republican��legislators have introduced a resolution on Tuesday urging the U.S. Supreme Court to overturn Obergefell v. Hodges, the 2015 decision that established marriage equality nationwide. The measure, House Joint Memorial 1, claims the Supreme Court overstepped its authority by requiring states to recognize same-sex marriages. It also calls for a return to the so-called “natural definition” of marriage as between one man and one woman, a concept supporters insist is rooted in tradition. The non-binding resolution, spearheaded by the State Affairs Committee, asserts that states and not federal courts should decide marriage laws. While the resolution carries no legal weight, its introduction sends a clear signal about the state GOP’s priorities. “The Idaho Legislature insists on restoring the issue of marriage and enforcement of all laws pertaining to marriage back to the several states and the people,” the resolution reads.

The move comes even as a majority of Americans—including majorities of Democrats and independents and nearly half of Republicans—support marriage equality. A 2024 Gallup survey found that 69 percent of Americans favor the legality of same-sex marriages, a figure that has remained consistently high since the Obergefell ruling.

[...] Idaho’s resolution echoes a growing movement among conservative lawmakers to challenge LGBTQ+ rights at the state level. Across the country, Republican-led legislatures have introduced bills targeting everything from transgender health care to drag performances. The resolution also aligns with Justice Clarence Thomas’s recent remarks in his concurring opinion in the Dobbs case that overturned Roe v. Wade, which in 2022 called for reconsidering cases like Obergefell as part of a broader critique of substantive due process—the legal principle underpinning marriage equality and other rights, such as access to contraception.

Idaho House Republicans file out-of-touch resolution HJM1 to urge the SCOTUS to repeal Obergefell v. Hodges.