#she is back to being a lead in her own show!!

[bullet-prooflove]

Pandora's Box: John Shen x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @miraclesabound @cannonindeez @fadeinsol @nommingonfood

Companion piece to:

Ashes - You take revenge on the first man your parents sold you to.

The Choice - In the wake of his brother’s suicide John goes against his parents’ wishes and makes a choice about his residency.

You Should See Me In A Crown - A chance encounter sparks the beginning of something special for John.

Dick Pics - You and John discuss your dating life in the ambulance bay during a rare shift break.

Brunch - John refuses to give up when you miss brunch with him.

Silly Little Boys (NSFW) - John's not like the other men you've been with.

In The Summer - You discover John's secret.

Tiger, Tiger - John reveals the truth between his engagement and his history.

Jack - John's mother opens up old wounds by giving John a copy of your DCFS file.

Bare (NSFW) - John and you commit to each other in a special way.

The Shirt - Jack realises that you're wearing a boyfriend shirt.

Tradition - Mrs Shen makes a decision regarding the wedding.

The Wedding Gift - John's dad brings out the worst in him.

John hasn’t seen his brother Edward in almost a year. He’s been a ghost in John’s life ever since the disagreement between him and his parents started regarding the wedding. John gets why, he doesn’t want to rock the boat, to shine a light on his own issues so he takes a step back, hides in the shadows.

Which is why it’s such a surprise when John finds him standing there at the reception desk. He’s clad in a suit that costs more money than John makes in a month, scrolling through his phone as he leans back against the counter.

“Edward, what are you doing here?” John asks as he dispenses antibacterial gel into his hands, rubbing them together. “If you’re here to advocate for dad…”

“No.” Edward says drawing out the word as he tucks his phone into his pocket. “Is there somewhere the two of us can go to talk privately?”

“Yea.” John says, scanning across The Pitt until his gaze comes to rest on the stairwell that leads upstairs to the rest of the hospital. “Follow me.”

He ignores the expression on Edward’s face as they step out into the dark, quiet space. The walls muffle the sound from the ED, while the cold air causes goosebumps to break out across John’s bare arms. He folds them over his chest for warmth as he waits for his brother to speak.

“Something is going to come out over the next couple of days.” Edward tells him, his hands sliding into his trouser pockets. “Something I don’t want you to be blindsided by.”

“Ok…” John says shrugging his shoulders. “What is it?”

“Obviously you know the company’s about to go under, it’s all over the Shanghai news outlets but they’re running a story tomorrow on Dad, on the fact he’s been embezzling.”

The news hits John like a freight train because never in a million years would he have suspected anything like that.

“I don’t understand why would he need to embezzle, mom has family money.” He tells Edward, his brow furrowing as he struggles to process this news.

“Because for the past nine years Dad has been having an affair with a woman in New York, he set her up with a house in the Hamptons. They have two kids together, a girl and a boy. Jada and Michael.”

John feels like he’s been punched in the chest, the oxygen seems to evaporate right out of his lungs as he tries to make sense of what he’s hearing. “How do you know all of this?”

“Mom.” Edward sighs, shaking his head. “He told her a couple of nights ago before he left to move in with his mistress. If he returns to Shanghai he’ll be arrested by the police out there so he’s decided to stay in the US indefinitely.”

“I guess that dual citizenship really came in handy.” John says bitterly. “How’s mom doing with the whole thing?”

“She’s already back in Shanghai, being doted on by the aunties. She didn’t seem too broken up by it if I’m honest. I think she’s gonna stay out there for a while, show the community she wasn’t affiliated with any of his nonsense.” Edward informs him and John nods his head in understanding. His mom has a lot of family over there, he’s glad that’s amongst her people, that they’ll care of her in the way that only traditional Chinese families know how. “The press are gonna be reaching out for quotes about Dad when the story hits so it’s my advice you turn your phone off for a couple of days.”

“Yea…” John says gesturing at the building they’re standing in. “That’s not really something I can do.”

“Well John, you did open Pandora’s Box with this whole thing.” Edward says without an ounce of sympathy. “You couldn’t just fall into line like the rest of us, you had to put yourself above the family.”

“I didn’t want a loveless marriage.” John says frankly, meeting Edward’s gaze. “I didn’t want to be like you or Li, I want to be happy, to love the woman I choose to spend the rest of my life with...”

“Well you have that now don’t you?” Edward snarks. “You get to do what you want while the rest of us have to live with it.”

“You don’t have to live with it.” John reminds him, his palm rubbing over the nape of his neck. “That’s the point, you don’t have to stay married to Mae if you don’t want to. The worst thing that can happen has happened, what is you coming out gonna do to damage the families reputation. It’s already in tatters.”

“You don’t understand…” Edward tells him and John concedes that point.

Coming out is an intensely personal experience and with Edward, there’s years of self-loathing to address before he starts to feel comfortable in his own skin.

“Look I just came to tell you about Dad so you weren’t ambushed by reporters over the phone.” Edward says as he heads towards the door leading back to the E.D. His fingers wrap around the handle gripping it before he lingers for a second, tilting his head up to meet John’s eyes. “I’m glad you got what you wanted John, even if it did come at the cost of our family.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Older! SugarDaddy! Steve Harrington x Reader • age gap (20-30 years) • use of ‘Daddy’ • mean dom/overprotective Steve • Eddie mention

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Thinking thoughts about an older Steve (40’s-50’s) who’s a successful businessman and happens to fall in love with a scandalously younger intern. There instantly exists a dom/sub dynamic, with Steve assuming the role of guardian and nurturer. Being your ‘daddy,’ is the most fulfilling thing he’s ever done. He loves making his girl feel special but sometimes to do that, he has to get a little mean…

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

…Objectifying you like you’re a doll to dress up, a pretty prop to show off at his company’s business parties…Steve finds a way to get inside you at each party, leading you into the bathroom or a room that’s supposed to be off limits to guests…Says you owe him for getting you that pretty dress to begin with. “Least you can do is let me fuck you in it,” Steve grunts into your ear, humping you over the edge of the nearest piece of furniture. He doesn’t care if he makes a little mess, leaking onto your dress. It just proves to everyone that you belong to Steve. “They’ll think, of course Harrington owns her,” he says of his associates. “She left the party wearing his cum on her dress, for Christ’s sake…”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Being talked down to/taught a lesson when you’ve been extra bratty… “Don’t get smart with me,” he tells you when your attitude needs an adjustment. “I know what’s best for you. I’m older and wiser, and I know your place. It’s about time you learned it too, young lady.” Steve snaps his fingers and points to the floor. “That’s your place,” he says. “Down.” He clicks his tongue like he’s training a dog, watching his bitch sink to her knees at his feet. Steve takes your chin in his hand and tilts your face to look at him. “Now doesn’t that feel good?,” he asks with a chauvinistic grin. “Doing what you’re told?”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Steve ‘sharing,’ you with his dealer Eddie for the first time. Eddie’s nervous, hanging back, not sure how to start. Steve’s his wealthiest customer; Eddie doesn’t want to piss him off. Steve’s standing there with a drink in his hand, watching Eddie being awkward, a sarcastic smirk on his handsome face. “Well don’t just stand there lookin’ like you want to fuck her, Munson,” Steve tells Eddie, tipping his drink toward you on the bed. “Go fuck her.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Steve turning you into a sopping mess with his fingers in the back of a limousine…Murmuring against your hair as his fingers slosh inside you, his thumb rapidly circling your clit. “Just let go, baby,” Steve urges gently. “Don’t worry about making a mess; Daddy’ll pay to have it cleaned.” He strums his fingers inside you, beckoning your orgasm closer. You whimper and choke on your sobs, trying to keep quiet so the driver doesn’t hear. Steve makes you come so hard, you feel your brain go mushy and blank. He hooks his fingers in your mouth and tugs your head back to look at him. Your dazed expression confirms that you’re completely fucked-stupid, not a thought in your head. “Aww baby,” Steve half chastises, half comforts you. “S’my pretty girl’s head all empty and dumb now? That’s okay.” He slides his thumb between your lips and tells you to suck. “Daddy fucked all those big ideas right out of your head, didn’t he? But you just rest, and I’m sure they’ll come back. Until they do-.” Steve smacks your ass, squeezing a chunk of your flesh with a growl. “You just enjoy being Daddy’s dumb little baby, alright? Let me think for the both of us…”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Going out with friends, leaving Steve alone at home… He tries not to be jealous, thinks it’s an immature emotion. Jealousy is a fault boys have, not grown, successful men like Steve. But he can’t help himself, wondering who you’re talking to at the club, who you’re dancing with, wondering what men might be looking at his girl thinking they have a chance with you?

He shows up at the club and immediately feels out of place. Everyone there is at least a decade younger than him. Steve scans the crowd of bouncing heads on the floor but doesn’t find yours. He pushes past a bunch of sweaty ‘punks,’ as he calls them and eventually sees you standing against a wall. Your shoulders are slouched, your hair a tangled mess from dancing. Steve can tell with one look that you’re wasted. He’ll have to discipline you for that later, but right now, Steve’s sole focus is on the sleazy jerk leering at you.

He’s got his palm against the wall you’re leaning against, caging you in. It’s obvious he’s trying to flirt and Steve is pissed. He strides up to you and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Baby,” he says. “Is this guy bothering you?”

It takes you a second to register that it’s Steve standing there, and when you do realize it’s him, you laugh in his face. He looks so silly and out of place, standing there in a fucking suit while everyone else is wearing club clothes. “I’m fine,” you slur back at him, adding with a little more attitude than Steve likes: “I can take care of myself, Daddy.”

The guy flirting with you looks between you and Steve, then points at Steve, laughing “wait, is this your old man??” Steve fucking loses it. He lets go of your shoulder and takes a swing at the punk, his fist hooking against his jaw. Something pops in Steve’s shoulder and he curses, knowing he’ll pay for it later. But knocking that kid on his ass will have been worth it.

Steve gets away with the assault because he’s buddies with the owner’s dad. But he does have to listen to you complain later while you’re holding ice on his shoulder, insisting you could have taken care of yourself. “No no,” Steve disagrees gently, pulling you in for a kiss. “That’s my job.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

[peachhcs]

What would happen if a player publicly made it known that he has a crush on Sammy and asked her out on live television. How and what would Will do? How would he react?

oooh omg wait that would be such fun little drama. i loveee writing a good jealousy trope. i feel like will would get really jealous, especially if it happens at a game he's playing at like someone from the other team. samy being samy would find it cute, but one look at will and he'd be like seething through his teeth because shouldn't everyone know she's his??

ok this is lowkey unrealistic bc what hockey player is gonna confess their love on live tv like this but let’s just go with it 🤗

au masterlist

the sharks were playing well tonight, but islanders had the upper hand with a 3 point lead. the new york team was kind of killing them, but the boys wouldn't let that show. they were determined to scrape up any points they could manage in the 2nd period to hopefully bring it together in the 3rd.

will was up there with the older guys searching for points. him and mack were a power duo, but it unfortunately wasn't enough to pull them ahead. not to mention, there was a kid on this team will wasn't too fond of.

finn connors was one of the new rookies for the islanders after coming up from the ahl. for the past few weeks, he'd been making remarks on his twitter about samy, basically trying to flirt with her as will put it. it was starting to drive the blonde up the wall because why did this 21 year old think it was okay to basically flirt with his girlfriend like that? when will found out they were playing one another tonight, he couldn't wait to give the connors kid a run for his money.

samy was in the stands front and center. she disagreed with will about finn flirting with her, making the excuse that it was stupid to flirt with someone over twitter. plus, he had nothing to worry about. samy didn't even know finn. unfortunately, will continued to think otherwise. he trusted samy, but he did not trust finn. he knew the reputation hockey players had and while will couldn’t really talk because he was a hockey player himself, something about finn wasn’t rubbing him the right way.

the 2nd period ended 3-2. samy clapped for her boyfriend as he followed his teammates back down the tunnel. fans stood up to grab snacks or a bathroom break during intermission. the soccer players waved to some of them who recognized her, offering photos for those who wanted one. she was completely oblivious to the intermission interviews happening down on the ice, specifically with finn.

“so finn, tell us about the 2nd period. your team has been pulling ahead,” the reporter questioned as their interview appeared on the jumbotron.

“yeah, i mean we’re just giving it all we got and it’s paying off. it’s awesome with it being my first game in the nhl and all,” the boy smiled.

“how does it feel to be playing with these guys now?”

“i love it. they’re such a great team and they’ve really made me feel like i’m at home.”

“what are you looking forward to being on this team and being in the nhl?” the lady wondered and finn thought for a moment.

“honestly just meeting new people and playing some good hockey. it’s been a dream of mine to play up like this and i couldn’t be more grateful to finally get to do it. i owe it all to my teams past. i’ve definitely already made some great connections too,” the brunette chuckled.

“anyone special?”

samy finally started paying attention the the interview. she’s seen a lot of pre and post game interviews before and she definitely thought this one was on the more stranger side. the reporter seemed a lot more interested in finn’s personal life than the game at hand considering the reporters generally just asked the players about how the game was going. instead, it felt like the arena was getting an entire backstory about finn. she watched the way the boy blushed at the lady’s question while her own skin paled a bit.

maybe will wasn’t so wrong after all..

“well, there is someone who i’ve got my eye on. i actually think she’s in the crowd right now..” finn’s gaze flickered up to the stands while the others started “ooing” and wondering who he could be talking about.

“well do tell,” the reporter encouraged.

finn finally made eye contact with samy up in the stands and the girl’s heart dropped.

“i see her right up there. samy hughes, i think you’re one of the coolest girls around. i’d love it if i could take you out sometime,” finn said confidently and proudly despite knowing samy was in fact already taken.

the other fans around her cheered while samy completely froze. this had never happened to her before nor did she know what to do except stand there while the camera panned to her in the crowd. at least some of the other fans around her were confused and booed because they knew she was taken already.

will, on the other hand, had watched the entire thing from inside the locker room with a fuming expression. his teammates were shocked by what just happened out there.

“what the fuck?” eklund exclaimed.

mack glanced at his friend’s expression, about to say something but will bolted from the bench and pushed past everyone else to get out there. he wasn’t even fully dressed in his gear as he skated back onto the ice.

his anger was too strong to stop what he was about to do. how could someone willingly ask his girlfriend out on live tv knowing she was already taken? did none of those things matter to the piece of shit hockey player? will was angry.

samy saw him skate on and she could already see the anger radiating from his body. she finally came to her senses seeing will on the ice darting towards finn and the reporter.

it happened so fast.

will lifted his balled fist and the next thing he knew his knuckles were colliding with finn’s jaw and the other boy was falling backwards. the entire crowd gasped. the other sharks players were rushing onto the ice, but they were too late as will went in for another punch.

the islanders were on the ice moments later too and the next thing samy saw was an entire fight breaking out.

her phone was blowing up in her pocket probably from all of her friends who were watching the stream.

“will! will, chill out man!” mack tried pulling the blonde away as more punches were given out in the chaos.

“don’t you ever fucking dare think about going after my girl again!” will yelled at finn who bled all over the ice from his broken nose.

one of the older islanders got in between and took will down in one quick punch. something cracked as the boy stumbled back into mack.

“hey! hey! get off him!” toffoli was in the middle now trying to mediate. the refs got themselves on to try and stop the fight.

samy stood there in a daze. she saw her boyfriend bleeding from somewhere while holding his jaw and finn pouring blood from his nose. it was becoming too much for her and she needed to leave, so she did. she quickly hurried out of her seat and up the stands. she knew will got aggressive on the ice sometimes, but she’d never seen him like that before..so..possessive and so..jealous.

the fight finally broke. will skated off with a broken jaw, nasty bruises, and a half broken nose. finn wasn’t any better as the medics got him a towel to hopefully slow the bleeding.

“dude, what the hell happened?” mack asked as will sat down with a towel.

“he deserved it,” the blonde mumbled.

“dude,” mack shook his head.

“dude? he fucking asked her out on live tv. he knows i’m her boyfriend,” will snapped angrily.

“that doesn’t mean you go and punch him until you break his nose,” the brunette grumbled.

“and what else am i supposed to do? sit back and let it happen?”

“yeah, you let it go. he’s not worth fighting like that. jesus,” mack let the medic look at will’s nose and jaw that had swelled significantly. he went to go look for samy instead after seeing her escape from her seat.

the younger hockey player found her outside the arena. she was pacing back and forth when she saw mack.

“you okay?” he called to her.

“yeah, i-i think so. it just..caught me off guard,” samy mumbled.

“i-i don’t know what got into him. he’s never usually like that..” mack frowned when he saw the slight fear in the girl’s eyes that she wasn’t expressing.

“i’ve just never seen him so..angry before? i don’t know,” the girl frowned and sunk onto the bench. mack slid in beside her.

“it was uncalled for and he shouldn’t have done that. i don’t know what his problem was.”

“he was jealous of finn. he has been for awhile. i didn’t actually think finn would like..try to..do that. i..i..i just didn’t know what to do. i froze. i looked like an idiot and then will just..there was so much blood,” samy stuttered a little as she remembered seeing the blood spread across the ice and the way finn’s hand was covered as he tried stopping it before getting a towel.

“i can call blaire if you wanna go. i’ll talk to will,” mack offered which samy appreciated because maybe she did need to just leave and settle down before making any rash decision.

“yeah, actually. that’d be great. thanks mack,” samy managed a small smile.

“yeah, of course. i’ll go call her.”

blaire picked samy up 20 minutes later after her skating practice ended. she took the brunette back to her dorm while mack went back in to talk to will, hoping he was calmed down a little bit more.

will was inside the locker room in the corner. it was silent which never meant anything good. mack eyed his teammates as he went to will.

“how are you?” he wondered.

“this shit hurts like hell,” will mumbled.

“well, yeah. you broke your jaw,” the younger rookie stated. the blonde rolled his eyes though.

“i think you really freaked samy out. she left. blaire picked her up,” the boy continued.

“she left?”

“yeah, will. you fucking punched a guy until he bled to death. that’s..fucking scary,” macklin stated simply and the realization slowly set into will’s features.

“i scared her?”

macklin nodded and he watched his friend deflate and the reality of what just happened finally started to set in more.

“holy shit,” will mumbled.

“give her some time, but i’d talk to her. i think she’s just..startled is all,” the younger boy advised.

—

“and then he just..punched him. like..full swing and everything,” samy explained while blaire’s eyes widened.

“what? no way..i didn’t even know will had that in him,” the girl exclaimed.

“yeah, me neither..” samy was still thinking about earlier and how her boyfriend took finn down without any hesitation.

she knew will would never intentionally hurt her but she couldn’t help but think how badly he could hurt her if something ever were to happen. she would be quite defenseless..and not to mention how any guy was capable of something like that.

the whole idea just wasn’t sitting right with samy. she knew she had nothing to be scared of when it came to will, but seeing him like that tonight was like seeing a whole other side of him she’s never known.

“shit, samy. that’s..crazy stuff. i don’t even know what to say,” blaire admitted.

“it’s okay, i wouldn’t know what to say either,” the brunette frowned.

the door opened and blaire’s roommate came in. she smiled a bit, “hey. uh..just so you know, will’s downstairs. he’s asking for you, samy.”

the girl’s face paled. she looked at blaire who nodded encouragingly. “you should talk to him.”

samy glanced between the two girls before slowly getting off of the bed and slipping her sneakers on. she slipped out of the door and to the stairs where she braced herself for the worst.

through the door windows, she could see will sitting on one of the couches, slumped down with his hood up, probably so no one really recognized him. samy took a deep breath before pushing the door open and making herself known.

“hey,” she mumbled.

will’s head shot up and that’s when she saw the massive bruising all along his jaw and up his eyes. a small gasp escaped her lips.

“hey,” the boy croaked.

“is that all from..”

will nodded. samy shut her mouth and froze herself in front of him. the boy coughed and then sat up a bit more. “i’m sorry you had to see that.” he began.

“i had no idea you could punch like that,” samy said.

“i shouldn’t have gotten so angry..i just..i was mad because it felt like he just didn’t care that i was your boyfriend and he just wanted to get a rise out of me. i know that’s not an excuse though and i shouldn’t have punched him like that. i should have let it go and not done that in front of everyone,” will admitted upright which samy appreciated. she didn’t think she’d get an apology so soon.

“you know i would’ve said no anyway, right? you know i know i’m yours. some stupid ahl player isn’t gonna change that for me. no one could change the way i feel about you, will,” samy said and the boy frowned.

“i know, i know and i trust you. i never thought you would do anything..i just..i don’t know. i got mad and i shouldn’t have. i should have kept my cool and just ignored him,” the boy hung his head and samy frowned.

she finally sat down beside him and carefully inched her fingers under his chin so he’d look at her. she examined the sensitive purple skin and the way will’s jaw was swollen. he winced a bit under her touch.

“it’s surprising how this isn’t the first time,” samy hummed and will flushed.

“i guess i have to control my jealousy issues,” he admitted.

“maybe. it..is kind of hot but not when you’re punching someone to the point where they’re bleeding everywhere,” the soccer player said and will nodded.

“right.”

she rubbed his skin and then slowly brought his face closer so she could peck his cheek. his skin heated up and a bright blush spread across his face.

“are you scared of me?” will asked because he’d hate himself if he made samy scared of him forever after tonight.

“no, i’m not. i was just shaken up earlier is all. you could never scare me, will,” she said and kissed his cheek again. the blonde smiled and leaned forward to press his own lips to her cheek.

“i promise i’ll never let this happen again. i’ve learned my lesson,” he said.

“at least you have a cool story to tell now. fought a guy because i love my girlfriend,” samy’s laughter finally eased the tension away. the couple shared a quick kiss before deciding it was late and rest was very much needed.

samy grabbed her things from blaire’s room and headed back to will’s place where the couple would sleep until noon and ignore all the headlines forming about will’s fight.

[pasukiyo]

CHAPTER ONE

dbf!joel miller x female reader

CONTENT WARNINGS! reader’s father has cancer, age gap between reader and joel, farmer!joel

Series Synopsis: In the summer of 2003 as she’s already feeling down on her luck, she’s called back home upon news of her father falling ill to take over his farm. Soon upon arrival, she meets Joel Miller— a friend her father made during her absence. Joel made a promise to her father to help get her back into the swing of things around the farm and he intends to make good on his word… but things are complicated when an undeniable connection inspires a world of trysts and starts them down a path they may never be able to turn away from. But like how all good things must come to an end, their secrets are bound to break, or else they’ll be their destruction…

word count: 4,012

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SERIES MASTERLIST

 SUMMER 2003

The odds, it seems, are never in her favor. 

 To think that just last summer, she thought she’d have it all: a book deal, a nice job, a nice car, a nice house, a nice salary, a nice man. She supposes she can at least tick off one of the things on the list— though moving back to her childhood home wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind. 

 In a perfect world, she’d be living the dream fresh out of grad school. She’d sip cups of coffee on her own front porch, a delightful morning breeze through her hair as she builds other worlds on a word document, the sun rising over the horizon to break the dawn. She’d maybe have a dog or two running in the yard, a hand on her shoulder and a kiss on her cheek to bid her goodbye, a boyfriend, fiancé, husband waving as he peels out of the driveway, honking his horn the entire way down the street until he was out of sight. She wouldn’t feel a hollowness in the pit of her belly, or feel the presence of an annoying little insect at her ear, buzzing with the reminder that there’s something missing. 

 She’d feel happy, accomplished, fulfilled. 

 As the car turns and they pull onto the old dirt road she hadn’t seen in years, that dream seems to fade until it’s nothing more than a dark shape on the horizon, setting with the sun. 

 That old familiar ache pulses in her lower back as her mother drives them over the bumpy, gravel road, the metal gate leading to her childhood home rolling into view. She sucks air between her teeth and grimaces— partly due to the pain in her back, but also because this is when the feeling truly sinks in: she’s moving back home. 

 She’s never hated Texas. Though she’s never been too fond of its cruel summers, she missed how green it was, how much space there was to live, breathe, grow here. Six years of living in the cramped city, she’d forgotten how free the country could be. There’s always been a special place in her heart for home that no amount of distance or time or bigger cities could ever fill. You never forget the place where you had all your firsts, after all. 

 When she was younger, she used to idolize living in a big city like New York or Los Angeles. She’d daydream about being a famous Hollywood actor or Broadway star, about being a beloved singer in LA, a well-esteemed writer in NYC. 

 The movies and television shows all made it look so easy to make it big. Truly, she thought the world was her oyster, that she could go anywhere she wanted and be anyone she wanted. It’s why she made the decision early on to go to school in Manhattan— she believed she’d never look back, that she’d prove her parents wrong and make them proud once her dreams inevitably came true. 

 Those dreams, however, were not as inevitable as she thought. 

 It was a cruel thing, realizing she only believed her dreams would come true just because she was young and naive. The movies and television shows never show what it’s like to risk everything and not get that happy ending. Unfortunately, she had to find out the hard way. She moved to Manhattan thinking she’d have everything she wanted and instead, she left with brand new scars, a broken pride, and an emptiness as dark as a damn lump of coal. 

 Still, she didn’t come back to Texas entirely by choice.

 It’s another piece of evidence to suggest the odds are never in her favor. She’d gotten the call just over a week ago, and she knew whenever her mother called, it must be something serious. Her father had fallen ill, cancer in the pancreas, the doctors had said. He tried to keep the ball rolling on the farm by himself after his diagnosis but with each day that passes, he grows wearier, weaker. Her mom can’t do the work all by herself between caring for her dad and doing upkeep on the house, and her older brother, Wyatt, has practically fallen off the radar. 

 When she heard the news, she knew she wouldn’t have much of a choice to begin with. Besides, looking around her measly one bedroom apartment in one of the shittiest streets of Manhattan with hardly a penny to her name, she realized she dodn’t have much keeping her there anyways. Honestly, it wasn’t all that difficult nor tedious, packing everything up and catching a flight back to Texas. 

 The engine revs as her mother presses her foot harder down on the gas to make it up over the curve of the driveway, sputtering once they reach level ground. Every square inch of her body aches but she’s finally here, and she rolls her head around on her shoulders as her mom kills the engine.

 For a moment, they each take the time to sit in the silence that falls once the engine stops, and the image before her of her childhood home seeps back into her skin, the familiarity of it filling old gaps in her memory. It’s been years since she last visited— she never took the time to visit for holidays, not since her third semester at least. She was still clinging to the dying embers of her delusions then, justifying her absence from every holiday by telling herself she needed all the time to study and work she could get. 

 And look where that got her– right back where she started.

 Things are tense between her and her mother to say the least. She supposes she can’t entirely blame her for it. Being back here now only because her father was ill and dying gives her a bit of a guilty edge. But there are other reasons why the silent air between her and her mother feels so thick.

 Her mother is the first to speak, pulling the keys out of the ignition and pushing open the driver’s side door. “Welcome back home,” she says icily, enthusiasm far from her tone. 

 Her mother slams the door shut and she takes a deep breath, letting her mother’s coldness melt off her skin. There’s no sense in starting a fight now, not right when she’s come back home.

 She pushes open her door and inhales as southeastern Austin’s warm summer breeze sifts its fingers through her hair, its sun beaming down on her face. Home smells just as she remembers it: like earth, wood, livestock, wheat, everything that you’d like think sum up to the smell of a farm. It’s strange how everything seems to be in the exact same places they were when she left, like nothing really changed at all. The wooden rocking chairs on the front porch seemed to not have even moved an inch, her father’s old truck is still parked in the same spot in front of the garage, even the number of wood in the pile by the old shed seems the same. The old oak tree doesn’t seem any different and the same old tire swing hangs from one of its branches. A black and white dog sits on the front porch, wagging its tail, barking as her mother makes her way to the door. Her father must’ve gotten it while she was gone but other than the dog, everything feels the same as it was.

 It almost feels as if she’s never left and it would had it not been for the unfamiliar truck parked behind her father’s near the garage. She moves the hair away from her eyes and holds it above them, squinting at the old truck. 

 “Whose truck is that?” She asks, pointing towards it when her mother turns around to face her. Her mom glances over her shoulder, waving a hand through the air.

 “Just Joel’s,” she replies simply, as if she was supposed to know this already.

 Her mother begins making her way up the front porch steps, snapping her fingers at the dog and gesturing for it to get inside the house. She shakes her head, dropping her hand to her side. 

 “Well, who’s Joel?” She asks, a little impatiently. 

 Her mother sighs and turns back around, falling back against one of the columns holding up the roof of the porch. Before she can get her answer in, a deep voice sounds from behind her and she starts, spinning around on her heel to face the source.

 “That’d be me, miss,” the voice says and she blinks at the man standing behind her, squinting in the sunlight, cleaning dirt off his hands with a stained yellow rag. 

 It almost seemed strange how matter-of-factly her mother introduced Joel, like he was nothing to worry about, something to brush off. Because she meets his eyes, the kind of brown that reminds her of the warm cup of chocolate her father used to make her on winter evenings when she was little, rounded with the sweetness that reminds her of a puppy. Perspiration glistens along his brow and there’s dark spots marring his blue shirt from hours of work in the summer Texas heat. He lifts an arm and wipes his sweaty brow on his bicep and she can’t help but notice the way his muscles flex when he does it, the product of years of in farmwork and whatever else he does. 

 It’s strange how quickly her mother brushes Joel off, as if he were unimportant, because she’s looking at him now and to be frank, she’s not sure how to tear her eyes away.

 It’s the outstretching of his hand that sort of breaks her from her stupor, enough to make her reach for it to give it a firm shake, at least.

 “Joel Miller,” he formally introduces himself and she focuses on how warm his hand feels, if not a bit damp with sweat. She can feel the lines of his palm and every callous made rough with work, and how large his hand is compared to hers fails to go unnoticed. 

 She swallows and releases the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding in. Finally, she’s able to breathe, blood biting her cheeks. She gives him her name and he gives her a small, brief smile, nodding his head.

 “You must be the daughter I’ve heard so many things about then,” he says and she blinks, nearly forgetting why she was there in the first place. Joel slides his hand away from hers and she swallows again, trying to play off like she wasn’t already missing his touch. 

 “I hope you’ve heard them from my dad then,” she replies with a chuckle she hopes doesn’t sound too terribly nervous. She hears a scoff behind her and the opening and closing of the screen door, almost forgetting her mother had been standing there to begin with. Joel blinks up at the front door, clearing his throat as his gaze drops back to the ground. 

 Joel tosses the rag over his shoulder and she tries not to notice how small the piece of dirty cloth seems compared to the breadth of him. 

 “Well, you’ll be pleased to know I have,” he says not unkindly, despite having not so much as smiled at her poor attempt at humor. He meets her gaze again, squinting against the harsh sunlight. “I’m a friend of his, been helpin’ out around the place as much as I can since he got sick.”

 She nods, taking the opportunity to look away before the heat in her cheeks makes her break into a sweat. She curses herself— here she is, practically drooling over a man (an older one, mind) she’s literally just met, and he’s her father’s friend. She searches the ground as if she may find her shame there. 

 “How’s he been doing?” She asks, squinting back up at him. 

 He shrugs. “Been better. Been worse. I know he’s been lookin’ forward to seein’ you,” he replies and there it is again, that guilty edge of hers slithering back into her brain like a python, her shame for not having seen her father sooner curling around her throat. 

 It suddenly feels painful standing out here with Joel, admiring him when her father is laying in bed, sick and missing his only daughter. She clears her throat, giving him a small smile when their gazes briefly meet again.

 “Yeah,” she sighs. “Well, I should probably go in and see him,” she says, taking a few small steps backwards. “Are you going to come inside? It’s awfully hot.”

 Joel purses his lips and shakes his head, waving a hand through the air. “Nah, I’ve gotta run home for dinner. My daughter’s apparently makin’ my brother and I chicken alfredo,” he says and she feels a pang in her temple. He has a daughter. Does that mean he already has a woman in his life? It would be very on brand for her: being attracted to unavailable men. 

 She shakes the thought away and smiles, nodding. “Alright, well, it was great meeting you, Joel,” she says and she swears his eyes flutter to her lips when she speaks, though she supposes she’s already deluded herself enough, so she brushes it off, telling herself it was nothing. 

 He nods too and swipes his fingers over the hair beneath his nose, bidding her farewell with a small wave. “You too. I’ll be seein’ ya,” he replies before they both turn, heading in the opposite directions. She’s painfully aware of his presence though and she hears the sound of his truck’s engine starting behind her as she reaches the door, his tires crunching the gravel beneath them as she slips inside of her childhood home for the first time since college.

 The house smells the same as she remembers it too– it seems her mother still uses the same fruit-scented candles she did before. The same photographs hang on the walls and over in the bookcase in the living room, some of her old softball trophies remain displayed. There’s photographs from her graduation and her brother’s too, photos of her and Wyatt on the farm, holding chickens, sitting on the backs of horses with arms wrapped securely around their father’s waist. 

 Memories flood and it all just feels so bittersweet, being back. Perhaps some part of her missed Texas more than the others were willing to admit. 

 The black and white dog from before pads into the room upon her arrival, tongue hanging out of its head, tail wagging. She holds out her hand for it to sniff, letting it get accustomed to her before giving it a scratch behind the ears. The tags on the dog’s collar jingle as she pets it and she hooks her finger under it, turning it until she finds the bone-shaped nametag. Jovi. She titters, giving Jovi one last good scratch behind the ears before rising from the floor. Seems her father’s obsession with Bon Jovi still hasn’t gone away.  

 She hears voices, growing louder the closer she gets to her parents’s room. Her heartbeat quickens and she swears she can hear her own blood pumping as she prepares herself, but nothing, nothing could’ve prepared her for the sight she sees once she steps into the room.

 Her father, the man she always looked up to, the man who always seemed like some unstoppable force, the strongest man she’s ever known now lays bundled beneath a heap of blankets, but even still, he’s half the size she’s already remembered him being. Her mother sits at his bedside and upon her arrival, her parents both turn and although everything has seemingly stayed the same, this is the moment she really feels the prolonged time between her last visit. 

 The odds have never been in her favor. Ever since she left home, she’s been nothing but down on her luck. But she’d go through it all again– every exam, every all-nighter pulled for studying’s sake, every hangover, every failed class, every shitty job, every shitty friend, every shitty heartbreak– if it’d meant she’d never have to see her father, the strongest man she’s ever known, like this again.

 The corners of her father’s mouth curves and though his face is sullen, the sight of his daughter is able to return some of that glow she’s always remembered seeing her father in. Her father says her name and his voice is so fragile, so soft, so different that she just breaks.

 “Daddy,” her voice cracks when she says it and it’s like she’s a little girl again, running to her dad during an especially frightening thunderstorm, seeking the comfort only a father’s arms can bring. 

 She practically falls onto the mattress, wrapping her arms around the thin shape of her father, her tears spilling onto the heap of blankets over him. It takes a moment, but she eventually feels his hands in her hair, on her shoulder. 

 “I’m sorry,” she sobs into the blankets, unable to lift her head, to meet her father’s eyes. Shame sears her skin and it feels like she’s burning alive. Why was she so sure everything was going to work out? Why was she so sure that everything she’d ever wanted– success, comfort, love– would just be handed to her? Why didn’t she ever stop to look back? Why didn’t she ever visit home? Why didn’t she ever even call? “I’m sorry,” she cries again, sniffling, still unable to lift her head. “I should’ve called. I should’ve came. I should’ve been here.”

 His fingernails scratch her scalp, his palm soothing circles into her shoulder. 

 “Shhh,” he shushes her and she lifts her head, blinking tears away from her vision. She meets her father’s gaze and he gives her a smile, the hand in her hair falling to her chin, his eyes glossing over with his own set of tears. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

 She feels the bed dip beside her and she turns just as her mother reaches a wary hand for her shoulder. Her mom’s hesitant and for a moment, she is too, holding her breath as her hand finds the curve of her shoulder. The fabric of her relationship with her mother has been torn and loose threads poke out of every one of their edges, torn by time and cruel words that have been both spoken and unspoken. To be honest, she’s no idea how to even begin sewing the threads of their relationship back together.

 But her mother’s hand upon her shoulder tells her that she’s at least willing to try. And when their teary gazes meet, she thinks she’s willing to try too.

 It was a strange day to say the least. She spent the entire evening talking to her father, asking him about everything– what he’s been up to, what’s been going around the farm, which MLB team he’s rooting for this season, Joel. It turns out her father met Joel in the city a couple years back at the workshop he and his brother, Tommy, work. Joel’s apparently helped build her father’s new barn, which she hadn’t even noticed during her homecoming, and has become a good friend of his, even coming over to watch baseball games and have a beer with him every once in a while. After her father’s diagnosis, he started helping getting all the chores around the farm done.

 Never once did her father mention Joel having a wife or girlfriend or any sort of partner for that matter. It’s most definitely a selfish thought for her to have, if not an entirely inappropriate one. It isn’t like her to be so interested in a man older than her, but she just can’t stop thinking of how he looked earlier: tired, sore, and glistening with sweat after a day of work. How warm his hand was in hers, how rough with work it was in contrast to hers who’d grown so accustomed to city life in her adult years. How attractive his eyes were with their way of drawing her in, as if the brown in his irises were quicksand. The fatigue drawn in dark circles beneath them, potential proof of sleepless nights or merely long, long days. 

 In her own sleepless night, she wonders if Joel is too, tossing and turning thinking about her the way she was him. 

 The last words he’d said to her orbited her mind, making her restless. “I’ll be seein’ ya,” he’d said. If he’s been helping out around the farm, she’s certain to see him again soon. 

 She still can’t decide whether or not that’s a good thing when she wakes to the sound of a series of knocks on her bedroom door. She grumbles and stirs, stretching her limbs out over the expanse of her childhood bed. Her old room was one of the only other things that’s seemed to change since she’s been gone because, well, she’s been gone. A lot of her things still sit in their respective places on the dresser and the bookcase, but the vast majority of her things were packed away in boxes, now either sitting on the shelves of a thrift shop or packed into new boxes that she still hadn’t gotten out of her mother’s car in the driveway.

 The world is still dark outside her window and she narrows her eyes, blinking the bleariness away from her vision as she peers over to the alarm clock sitting on her bedside table. Five o’clock in the fucking morning. What could possibly be the reason for someone to wake her up this early?

 Another series of knocks raps on her door, this time more aggressive and her mother’s voice calls her name. She groans and her mother must take this as her cue to open the door, peeking inside.

 “What?” She grumbles, an irritated edge to her sleep-ridden voice. 

 “Joel’s here waiting on you,” her mother states. “Get up! You’ve wasted enough of his time already.”

 The sound of Joel’s name is like a splash of cold water in her face and she blinks, trying to make sense of the situation. Joel’s waiting on her? What could he possibly be waiting on her for?

 Her heart skips a few beats in her chest and she hates the slight air of giddiness it seems to give her– it makes her feel like a lovesick schoolgirl when her heart seems like it’ll pump out of her chest any minute at the idea of meeting up with an attractive guy. It’s not like she has any real chance with Joel anyways. Whether or not he already has a woman in his life, he’s probably got way more important things to worry about, like his daughter. Not to mention that she’s probably at least a decade younger than him. Still, taming her heart in her chest proves to be a tedious task as she dresses herself and hurries down the stairs where Joel waits in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee her mother must’ve made.

 “Good morning,” she says and Joel looks up at her, the light above the dining table reflecting in those eyes she spent practically all night thinking about. 

 “Good morning,” he replies, voice a little thicker and huskier than the day before, more than likely due to that lack of sleep she suspected him of having. 

 She gulps, a nervous, uncertain smile on her face. “I’m sorry, I must be missing something. What exactly are you waiting on me for?”

 Joel swallows a small mouthful of coffee and her eyes flicker to the bump in his throat when he does. She inhales sharply, adjusting her feet as heat blooms at her core. Jesus, she thinks. Maybe all this is just because she hasn’t gotten laid in a hot minute.

 “Your dad asked if I’d show you the ropes ‘round the farm,” he replies, cocking an eyebrow. “Did he not get around to tellin’ you?”

a/n; A NEW SERIES!!!!!! i've decided to approach this one a little differently than i have with other series i've done in the psat. i've been working ahead a little bit and i'm hoping to be able to keep up with a weekly post schedule for this one. we'll see how that goes. in the meantime, i hope you enjoyed the first chapter!

🐴 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the entire world to me 🫶

TAGLIST

@joelbrat

@sallowsarchives

@chaoticevilbakugo

@luckypurins

@k1ttenmittonz

@all-in-the-fandoms

@luvrgreyy

@joeldarling

[colonelkaboom]

❥ Calling Xavier When You're Drunk

・Sylus・

✎ AN: Getting home after a night out is tougher than one might think. Luckily you have a friendly neighbour willing to lend you a helping hand. Word count: 650 Disclaimer: Obviously this little fic mentions alcohol consumption. I picture this event being pretty early on in their (not yet romantic) relationship.

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“Hey, neighbour! I can’t seem to find my door. I think your door is hiding it from me.” You slur. A confused sigh can be heard through the phone as if he needs time to process your words. 

“What are you talking about?” Xavier questions. A door hiding a door? Is this from some book she’s read? 

“I can’t find my door, it’s not here.” You repeat, annoyed that you had to do so. You reach your hand out and aggressively pull the door handle. It doesn’t budge, but it does help Xavier figure out what you’re talking about as he sees the handle on the door move from inside his apartment. 

“I think you’re confused. Did you hit your head at work today? Perhaps we need to get it checked out.” His voice is laced with a hint of worry as he moves toward the door to open it for you.

“Xavier, what are you doing here?” You smile pleasantly surprised to see him. You quickly wrap your arms around his waist and hug him tightly.

“I live here. I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Is this some elaborate joke?” His arms wrap around you on instinct and he starts rubbing calming circles on your back. You hold your phone up to your mouth before you continue speaking.

“It’s not a joke. Are you holding my apartment hostage somewhere?” You pull away just enough to give him a stern stare to go with your accusation.

“Why are you still talking through your phone, I’m right - Oh, I get in now…” The smell of your breath finally helps him fill in the blanks. 

“You’re drunk.”

“Just a little, but don’t change the subject. What have you done to my apartment?”

“Did you consider that maybe you’re on the wrong floor?” His soft expression never changes as he attempts to guide your drunken mind in the right direction.

“Oh, I guess that could be it. Haha.” You laugh realizing you might have jumped to the wrong conclusion in your search for home.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” Xavier says as he wraps an arm around your back and leads you toward the elevator.  

“So, who were you with? What were you doing?” He asks innocently.

“Me and Tara had a girls night out, but then we ran into some of her old friends. They were very nice, bought me lots of drinks.” You laugh thinking back to you and Tara losing it on the dancefloor. 

“They bought you drinks, just you specifically?” 

“Tara got some too, but I got more, I think they liked me.” You smile up at him too drunk to notice how tense he suddenly got.

“I think I’ll go with you next time, maybe you’ll have less trouble locating your front door if I’m there to help you through the process of elimination. If it’s not your door, it’s mine, thus your door must be elsewhere.” 

“Will you buy me lots of drinks too?” With a pouty lip and doe eyes you looked up at him as innocently as you could muster. He chuckled at your silly behaviour.

The thought of going out with Xavier excited you. Not because you wanted him to buy you drinks, but because Xavier wasn't really the partying type. I wonder what made him so willing to join us next time? You had known him for a while now, yet he still showed new sides of himself that surprised you.

“For your own safety, I will not buy you lots of drinks. At least not as many as it seems like you’ve had today.” 

“And I’ll personally make sure no one else buys you any either.” He whispers the last part and you’re unable to make out what he said. You gathered he said something about safety, assuming he was offering it to you during your next outing, which you would gladly accept. 

Who would offer safety to whoever would dare try to buy you a drink though?

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✎ AN: I do have a soft spot for jealous Xavier, I need to write something where that side of him has more room to play...

⋆ Read more ⋆ Masterlist ⋆

-Colonel Kaboom

[loki-hargreeves]

Mercy

Pairing: Poe Dameron x f!Reader (she/her pronouns used a handful of times) Warnings/Tags: enemies to lovers (vibes at least), hurt/comfort, angst, descriptions of injuries, name calling (nothing too serious), mentions of death and killing, fluff at the end if you squint Word Count: 4.6k Summary: Poe should kill you. You're his enemy. Yet when he sees you, weak and injured, he struggles with his decision. A/N: Writing this instead of starting another series rn because I have self control...

"Eyes on target," Poe speaks into the comms, his eyes locked on the TIE fighter in front of him. In the vast emptiness of space, there are few obstacles it can hide behind as Poe chases behind, loading the weapon system of his trusty X-wing.

Poe and a few other rebels from the black squadron were surveilling Jakku after getting intel about a first order weapons trade taking place on the planet. Safe to say that the intel was legit. The place is swarming with first order fighters. Luckily, they were met by a small TIE fighter squad in the sky. The real goal is to get rid of them without letting them warn the bigger first order fleet that's surely on standby, ready to send backup if needed.

"Fire away. We're right behind you, Black One," Wexley responds to Poe, reassuring that they've got everything under control for now.

Poe's thumb brushes against the button that's the only thing between him and the enemy ship getting blasted into stardust. His heart is racing from the adrenaline of battle, no matter how big or small. This should be the last target in the sky.

He presses the button.

A flash of light fills his cockpit for a second. Pew. Then, the enemy is gone. It happens so fast that Poe can't even see the TIE fighter blow up before it's gone. The only evidence left of the enemy is scrap floating around in space. Poe's X-wing passes the debris by so fast that it's quickly left far behind. A memory, if even that.

"Target cleared," Poe tells his squadron. Now he can relax. He smiles a bit as his comrades cheer, most likely more relieved to have survived rather than actually being happy and cheerful. They managed to wipe out a bunch of TIE fighters without losing any of their own.

BB-8 beeps from the back of the ship, the droid joining in on the excitement of the rest of the squadron. Usually, Poe would be amongst the first to make a comment about getting rid of first order scum one by one - but he's tired.

Ever since Poe joined the Resistance, he's been dedicated, climbing up the ladder, worked on becoming the best pilot he can be, focused on defeating the enemy. People jokingly call him the Resistance poster boy... yet lately he's just been feeling guilty, as if he's betraying the cause he's dedicated his life to. Poe struggles to see himself as the leader people want him to be when he can be affected by someone who is supposed to be his enemy.

"What's the plan?" Wexley asks, noticing that Poe has been quiet for a while. It's unlike the pilot who usually always finds something witty to say. Hell, Poe has put on more shows than one can count, even on the battlefield.

"Start the descent to Jakku," Poe clears his throat, slowing down a bit. His gaze lazily zoomed across the stars that are scattered all around them. "Let's make sure the first order never receives those weapons."

"Roger that."

"Aye."

Poe watches as his squadron turns to the sand planet. Poe stays behind, wanting to watch their backs and take a change from leading. However, Poe doesn't get the chance to start his descent to Jakku before his radar beeps. His dark eyes are glued to the screen in a split second. One dot. One ship has joined them, arriving from somewhere in light speed.

"We've got company!" Poe warns the others but they're already too far gone to catch that. Poe is on his own.

As Poe skillfully flips his ship around to point the nose of the X-wing toward the enemy, he recognizes the ship. It's not just another TIE fighter. It's you.

Kylo Ren's little spy. Poe hates your guts, or at least he's convinced himself of that. He's called you every name in the book but prefers scrampweasel, sneaky little spy-worm or the simplest of all - shadow rat. Very creative. He's trying them out to see if any names will stick.

Poe hates how you're doing your own thing, no squadron, no rules. You appear whenever and wherever, usually at the worst of times, only to wreak havoc and piss him off. He hates how you slip away from situations that you should never get away from, how you spy on people and run back to Kylo Ren to tell him your intel. He hates how damn smart and resourceful you are and you're his enemy. He wishes your skills could be used for the good of the Resistance instead.

"You're late to the party, scrampweasel," Poe connects his comms to your ship. Staring you down from afar. He can imagine how you look in that ship, probably pissed that the first order squadron has been wiped out.

"Nah," You simply reply, your voice slightly distorted due to the comms system. "Also you've done better than scrampweasel, poster boy."

"Ouch, you're breaking my heart, sweetheart," Poe mutters sarcastically, "unfortunately I'm not taking constructive criticism right now." A few buttons are pressed. His ship buzzes to life as he loads his weapons again. Loading...

BB-8 beeps nervously as he recognizes your voice and ship. You and Poe have been head to head many times before, in the sky, on land, probably underwater. It always gets out of hand, it's always chaotic and especially when flying, the poor droid will get a good scare when Poe flies like a maniac after you.

"Where are your friends, Dameron?" You ask, noticing that he's alone.

Seems like the rest of the Black Squadron descended on Jakku, or at the very least entered the planet's atmosphere before you got here. Unless Poe tells them what's going on by turning the long distance comms on, they won't know until they notice that he never followed them to Jakku. Perhaps it's better that way.

"It's just you and me," Poe mutters and feels his pulse quicken. His weapons are almost fully loaded now yet a small part of him knows that you're too quick and smart to just wait for him to blast your ship to pieces. This is a standoff that's just the start of your usual dance that you always, always, find a way out of.

BB-8 beeps at Poe, reminding him that he's there too.

"I know, buddy," Poe reassures the droid, turning off the comms while speaking to him. As he listens to the intense beeping, he smirks because he can tell BB-8 knows what's coming.

"Too bad. No one will be around to see you get your ass dragged," You sigh into the comms, riling him up. It's your specialty.

Poe shakes his head and rests his thumb on the buttons again, one click away from blasting you into Jakku's atmosphere. He hesitates.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" Poe asks, suspecting that something is off. You haven't tried to blast him, not even once. Are you... stalling? "Performance issues?"

PEW

Poe saw it coming from a mile away, the first red blast from your ship. He laughs as adrenaline courses through his veins, ducking from the rain of blasts coming his way. This little tug of war you've got going on is fun for him.

"Now we're talking, baby!"

"You're so weird," You groan and set off into a compelling chase.

Poe speeds up, avoiding your blasts like second nature. BB-8 screeches as it begins. Then at top speed, Poe lowers his ship and slows down. You fly right past him, surprised by his dropping speed. Now he's behind you. He clicks down on the blast button as green light flickers across his face with each beam.

Of course, none of them hit you. Poe has convinced himself that you're just a good enough pilot to avoid getting blasted too easily. It's a lot for him to even think that a first order spy is a good pilot. He thinks it's just an unfortunate truth. He'd never consider the thought that he avoids vital parts of your ship on purpose, because then he'd be taking mercy on an enemy. Poe can't do that.

You're leading him away from Jakku. Taking your sweet time.

Poe is stalling because he wants to give his squadron enough time to stop the weapons trade on Jakku. You're stalling because you think Poe is alone and you want to give the team on Jakku enough time to finish the trade. Poe feels like he has the upper hand. He just needs to keep you distracted for just a little longer...

"Have you thought about my offer?" Poe wonders curiously, speeding up behind you. Every time you meet like this, he asks you to switch sides. Or at least to consider it. However, the way he delivers his offer makes it hard to tell just how serious he is.

"How's this for an answer?" You reply angrily and make a 180. Poe takes a sharp right as you blast back at him, your beams meeting his and creating a bright firework effect. You both have to fly away from each other to regain composure.

Every time the answer is the same.

"Is that a maybe?" He teases and tries to lock the automatic target tracking system on you again. The box tries to lock around the dot that represents your ship on the screen but you're expertly flying side to side to avoid detection. Poe has to take aim manually.

"The thought of seeing you every day and taking orders from you makes me a bit sick, actually," You insist harshly.

"But you have no issue taking orders from Kylo Ren?" Poe raises his brow although you can't see him.

Silence.

Poe is surprised that you didn't have a lively remark up your sleeve at that. He finds it odd, considering your reputation as Kylo Ren's pet spy. Thought you'd be quicker to defend him.

"Don't question my alliances."

"Maybe I should? Maybe you should?" Poe pushes a bit more, giving you so many opportunities to surrender and switch sides. He's giving you more mercy than most others. Poe tells himself it's only because you have skills that the Resistance could use. That's all.

BB-8 beeps suddenly, warning Poe of company. Another dot appears on the radar, far away. It's not one of his own. Poe thinks you've got backup, so he says nothing. Just prepares to fight you and some other first order scumbag.

What happens next completely takes him by surprise.

The first order ship that appeared takes a shot at you.

"Kriff me!" Poe curses, shocked at the events that unfold before his eyes. He has to back off to avoid getting blasted as well. The other ship comes closer and Poe recognizes it.

That's Kylo Ren.

At the sight of the approaching vessel, Poe gets ready to get out of there and fast. He's on his own and even if he'd like to blast Kylo Ren into bits and pieces, he can't do it on his own. The smart move is to go to Jakku and rejoin the rest of the Black Squadron, who by now have probably sabotaged the weapons trade and that's why Kylo Ren is here.

Poe speeds up his ship, heading toward Jakku. Things just got real.

As he flies away, and his heart beats like crazy, Poe thinks about what just happened.

Kylo Ren blasted you down.

"Kriff," He curses again, slamming his hand at the cockpit dashboard. Maybe it's shock. Poe certainly didn't see that coming. The one person you've been loyal to just discarded of you like it was nothing. Poe just knows your ship crashed on Jakku. He shouldn't care. He should just keep moving, find his squad.

But a thought forms in the back of his mind. Poe should be responsible and make sure that you're dead. Yeah, so he can know for sure that you won't cause any more problems. That this chapter is over.

Poe changes his course and programs the systems to track your ship. BB-8 makes a concerned noise, worried about Poe.

"Just tying up loose ends," Poe explains to the droid. "She could be alive. She... could be..." He trails off. Poe can't believe what he saw.

Why would Kylo do that?! Why would he dispose of the best spy the first order has? Sure, you didn't spy in the traditional sense by being a mole or anything like that - you actually stalked your targets and stayed in the shadows most of the time, dug up information that most people would never find. Surely, a valuable asset for someone like Kylo Ren.

As Poe enters the atmosphere, beginning his descent on the dark side of Jakku, he locates the crash site. Then he flies toward it, his gut wrenching oddly as he thinks about what he might find. Poe tells himself he only feels this way because he's so shocked by Kylo's unexpected actions.

"He must be losing it," Poe mutters to BB-8, questioning Kylo's grip on reality and his sanity as the war gets worse with time - as does the pressure on both sides.

No matter how many times Poe checks the radar, he can't see any signs of Kylo following him. It's incredibly suspicious but Poe keeps going.

He lands behind a sand dune and instructs BB-8 to stay put.

Then he starts making his way to the crash site. He can smell it, the bitter smoke lingering in the air. Your ship is in pieces, halfway covered in sand and flames. Too remote and desolate that Jakku's infamous scavengers haven't come to collect parts yet. This looks bad.

Poe puts his hand on his blaster as he gets close, unsure if he can trust you if you're alive. It's dark outside, night having fallen upon this side of Jakku. A sand desert with no life in sight. Just your wrecked ship and a sky full of stars. The flames on the debris create a dim, orange glow.

Then he sees you.

You've managed to crawl out of the cockpit but you've slumped down only a few feet away from the ship. Bloody, bruised, helmet broken. It's a miracle your skull didn't take a bigger hit when you crashed. Poe doesn't even think about it, he runs up to you.

"You're alive," He says in shock. Then Poe freezes, unsure what to do.

You're his enemy. You've spied for the first order for the longest time. Even though Kylo Ren shot you down now, it doesn't erase your past.

You lift your head weakly to look him in the eye. Poe notices how tears mix with the blood on your face. Those eyes... even when you're full of anger, he hates to notice just how captivating you are. Surely an attribute that's helped you in your spying and scamming ways.

"What are you doing here?!" You ask him and groan in pain as you fail to push yourself up. It doesn't take a genius to tell that something is most certainly broken. Poe cringes as he sees how injured you are. He almost feels bad.

That's a good question.

He opens his mouth to speak. It's a rare moment of Poe Dameron feeling speechless.

A cold breeze of desert wind makes the flames dance a bit brighter, sand hitting you both in the face. Days on Jakku can be scorching hot but the nights are definitely a cold pain in the ass too.

"Too scared to finish the job?" You ask him in tears, unsure whether it's rage or the pain of betrayal that has you falling apart. Of course, you're aware that it was Kylo who shot you down. You saw him approaching the scene, thinking he was gonna back you up. Thinking he was gonna deal with the trade on Jakku. But no.

Kylo shot you down because he felt you were getting attached to the enemy, too soft-hearted to kill, therefore no longer trustworthy. Apparently, he could sense you had failed to use your full potential against Poe in battle. After everything you'd done for Kylo, he stopped trusting you because of the damn Resistance fly boy.

As you face Poe, in your weakest moment, you see your own failure reflected on his entire being. It's his fault!

"You...for maker's sake, you really should've questioned where your loyalty lies!" Poe scolds you and then covers his mouth with his hand, struggling to compose himself. He hates seeing you like this. Bloody, trembling in pain, too weak to get up. The rage in your eyes is unlike anything he's seen before.

"I was weak," You admit and hang your head in both shame and pain. There's a throbbing headache that's banging in your skull, making it hard to think. Is this it? Is Poe really the last person you'll see? Is this how it ends?

Poe grabs his blaster and takes a shaky breath. He paces a bit, kicking the scrap that's scattered across the dune as your ship fell apart. He knows what he should do.

"If you don't have the guts to finish the job, I'll die anyway," You tell him sharply, grasping onto your tough exterior. Even when facing potential death, you're hiding behind a wall of your own creation.

Poe turns to look at you with a dark look in his eyes. He just nods, indicating that he's listening to you. He hasn't felt this conflicted in a long, long time. The easy thing to do now is to kill you and no one would ever question it. You're an enemy.

"I'll either bleed out here or Kylo will send someone to finish the job," You explain, knowing the ways of the first order. No job is left unfinished or half-assed, at least not when Kylo is in charge. This was personal and he would hate to leave you living.

"You win," You whisper now, thinking about how many times you and Poe have been in battle. How many opportunities you've both had to kill or hurt the other yet you haven't, only prolonging this game of yours. It had to come to an end eventually.

"If you have mercy, you finish the damn job..."

Poe closes his eyes as he listens to you. He can't take it. His blood begins to boil the longer he stays uncharacteristically quiet and takes in your pitiful words. It's sickening that you believe what you're spewing.

"Mercy?" Poe snaps now, "You call this mercy?!"

The pain is getting worse as you use your last bits of strength to keep your head up, looking at Poe. Like tiny daggers sinking into your skin all over, white hot agony burning up your neck. There's probably scrap pieces of metal in your flesh, or at least it feels like it.

"You fool," Poe growls, but his voice cracks a bit. He pities you. "You should've...should've seen this coming..." Poe keeps lecturing, then he sinks down onto his knees. He grabs your shoulders and turns you around, making you lie on your back and stop using your strength to keep your head up.

The movement makes you wince in pain, although there's undeniable relief in being able to lie down. There's not even an attempt to fight back.

Being angry is exhausting. It's so damn tiring. Every day it's the mask you put on. Something to hide behind. The only way to make people take you seriously.

As you look up at the stars, you don't have the energy to be angry anymore. Instead, an overwhelming wave of sadness crashes over you. Like a blanket, weighing you down. It's cold and ugly, making your heart feel like is gonna tear to pieces. Maker be damned, you're crying in front of Poe Dameron.

"Well I didn't see it coming," The words leave your mouth in a whimper, lips forming a small pout. The lump in your throat is too hard to swallow or ignore. The emotions you've bottled for so long are finally spilling over.

Poe is surprised by the change in demeanour, sensing raw vulnerability. He looks at your injuries, trying to find the worst ones. Trying to help. He's hesitant, almost nervous as he brushes his fingers over your bloody shirt. He's never touched you this gently.

"Are you happy?"

Poe freezes for a second. You can see that his jaw is clenched and the vein on his forehead stands out. He looks so tense.

"No," Poe is honest, "I'm not. I don't think you were meant for this."

"You don't even know me."

"You're not meant to waste your skills on an useless organization like the first order and die while being loyal to an unpredictable maniacal hothead like Kylo Ren," Poe insists harshly, looking you directly in the eye. "I'm not happy. I made it clear long ago that I wanted you to switch sides and realize your potential. You still have that potential but you need to open your damn eyes!"

Taken aback by his rant, you just blink at him. To think this is the man you've been bantering with for a while now, always thinking it was out of pure spite. He actually saw good in you.

"I'm not like Finn."

Poe hates how stubborn you are. He clenches his jaw as he carefully lifts your shirt, revealing a nasty wound. He threads a thin line as he tries to remain respectful while also having to reveal your skin in order to assess the wounds. A piece of metal is lodged under your skin, bleeding crimson all over your skin, your shirt and now his hand. Poe doesn't try to remove the metal, knowing it's hindering even worse bleeding. He has no bacta spray on him but if he could get you to his ship, he could treat you.

"No, but he did the right thing and saw through all that first order nonsense. Others can do that too," Poe insists as he rips his shirt and uses the fabric to compress the wound. It's not clean but it'll have to do until he gets actual first aid supplies.

"Aaah!" You cry out sharply, squirming as he pushes the fabric into the biggest wound in your abdomen. It hurts like hell but it slows down the bleeding for now.

Poe hates hearing you cry out in pain.

"What are you doing?"

Poe can't believe what he's about to say;

"I'm saving your life."

Neither can you.

You close your eyes and grit your teeth, having no choice but to endure the pain. In a desperate attempt to understand what's happening, your brain rakes through every explanation but comes up empty. It makes no sense that Poe is helping you. He has no reason to.

"I don't deserve it..."

Poe's heart just breaks at that. He knows you're supposed to be his enemy but something tells him to help. That there's good in you and the reason you haven't killed him is because deep down you want Poe and the Resistance to succeed. He truly thinks you can do what Finn did and one day you'll laugh about how you were 'enemies'. That everything will be okay.

"Come on, let's get you up," Poe says surprisingly gently. He grabs you securely, under the arms as he lifts you up slowly. It hurts, it hurts so bad to even try to stand. But he's got you.

"What are you doing?" You ask again, choked up on tears and unable to phantom that someone like him would help someone like you. The sand is soft and unforgiving under your feet, forcing you to cling to Poe for support. Maybe it's instinctual, something deep and primal within you that clings onto survival, but you find yourself holding onto his arm and jacket so tightly that you're afraid you'll break him.

"There we go," Poe says softly and leads you toward his ship. His arm wraps around your waist as he supports you. There's truly nothing around these dunes. Just sand as far as the eye can see. Had he not come, there's no doubt in his mind that you would've bled out all alone in the cold. It's not a pleasant thought.

Finally, you reach his ship. Poe makes you sit down on the co-pilot seat. Then he begins to rummage through his stuff, finding the first aid kit that everyone is always supposed to keep onboard. He finds something that he can use. Bacta spray. Poe shakes the container and then uncaps it, spraying the cooling spray on your wound to disinfect it.

You watch as he works on you, patching you up so that you won't bleed out on him. Hopefully, you'll hold on until the Resistance base.

"You shouldn't help me."

"I probably shouldn't," Poe agrees and shrugs. He rips a package open with his teeth and grabs a handful of gauze. "You're really...messed up," He mutters as he sees the injuries in better lighting. It's disheartening to witness such wounds on anyone.

"I...I failed..." You whisper, leaning against the seat as reality begins to sink in. Kylo could sense it, there was no denying it. You were fully aware that you were going easy on Poe, letting him go when you had chances to hurt him, letting Poe defeat you on many missions. You hate Poe yet you let it happen. He's infuriating, always getting on your nerves yet you always prolonged every standoff with him. It makes no sense.

"What do you mean?" Poe asks gently as he throws bloody gauze away and uses fresh patches to soak up more blood. There's gotta be something else he can use in that kit. He drops more stuff on the floor of his ship as he tries to find something useful.

"I was supposed to kill you or... or capture you," The revelation doesn't really come as a surprise. Poe knows that he has quite the price on his head after becoming such a high-ranking member of the Resistance and successfully escaping from Kylo Ren's watch multiple times.

"But you haven't done that," Poe states the obvious.

You shake your head.

"I...I haven't. I didn't... I didn't want to," You confess. There it is. A simple truth. You didn't want to hurt or capture the enemy.

Poe stops in his tracks for a moment. He sighs deeply and meets your eye, his own eyes searching for answers so desperately, hoping that you can mend his own similar confusion. Why hasn't he let you die either? He's had many opportunities.

"Funny thing," Poe cracks a small smile although he's far from amused, "I haven't been able to kill you either, although I probably should've. And could've. You're a terrible pilot, got that auto tracker on you in seconds."

That's the Poe you're used to, a fucking smartass.

You chuckle, even at the cost of a shot of pain in the abdomen as your muscles tighten.

"Yeah yeah, I'm sure that's the case." A small curl tugs at the corners of your lips as well.

"Could've blasted you out of the sky a million times," Poe insists as he cleans your wounds. He's distracting you from the worst pain by talking and consequentially talking shit.

"Bad timing, you insensitive-"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Poe interrupts you before you can insult him and he laughs softly. "Don't I get a pass for coming here to save you?" He asks and then gives you a look that you can only describe as a man having puppy dog eyes. What's his issue and why is he so cute and charming?

"Whatever," You smirk and sigh shakily. His words don't actually offend. They're kind of comforting right now. Everything feels so scary as the life you know has changed completely. The moment Kylo shot you down, there was a disconnect from your previous life and the present.

"Everything's gonna be okay," Poe promises a bit more seriously now, "but you're gonna have to switch teams. Don't you want that?"

It's a valid question. The difference from the million times he's asked that before versus now is that Poe can see your expression.

Your gaze sinks to the floor as you think about it. It's an offer that has tempted you before but you've denied out of fear and an obscure sense of loyalty to someone you thought you could trust.

After thinking for a while, you finally break the silence.

"It's gonna suck to take orders from you," You mutter and gather the courage to face Poe. To see his reaction.

He seems happy. Relieved. It's weird that he can smile and trust that someone like you will turn out good. But if he believes in you, maybe there's hope.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it. Maybe you'll like it," Poe wiggles his brows playfully.

A/N: Forcing myself to stop here before I turn this into a series or smut (or both??)

[batsovergotham]

Something I giggle about when I saw the gist of the emperor mark fic is just eve and reader being the exact quote "never let your husband stop you from finding your wife"

you and eve are good. you’re not overly close, but there’s a kindness there and there is an unspoken understanding. she’s been through her own mess with mark, and she’s got nothing to prove. she sees how you are with him, with the kids, how you don’t force anything, how you’re just… there. trustworthy. steady. she respects that. maybe even appreciates it more than she lets on. :)

but marky’s different. that kid clings to you without meaning to. like it just happens. like he’s been waiting for someone to feel like home again, and suddenly you’re it. he starts asking for you when he’s sick. sits next to you without thinking about it. follows you around the palace like your shadow. never says why. and then one day, it just slips out. “mom, can you-" you freeze. so does mark. even marky stops, realizing what he said. the room goes quiet for a second too long. but you don’t say anything. you don’t correct him. you just smile, and say, “yeah, of course.” and from that day on, that’s what he calls you. he doesn’t bring it up again. doesn’t ask if it’s okay. he just decides it is and you let it be <3

you know what it means. you know it’s not simple. because it’s not like anissa’s name never comes up. you know about her. you know she was his mom. and you know she’s gone. but it takes time before mark tells you the rest. he doesn’t say it easily. it comes out late one night, quiet and careful, like he’s afraid you’ll look at him differently when it’s all out there.

he doesn’t say the word at first. just calls it what happened. his voice goes flat in places. quiet in others. you feel his shame before you understand the full shape of it. and when the word does come, rape, it breaks something between you that was never built on pain, but needs to hold it. he says it with his head down. like he’s ashamed. like he expects you to flinch. but you don’t. you just sit with it. with him. and when he finally looks up, you take his hand, and you say the only thing that feels right. “thank you for telling me.” you don’t try to fix it. you don’t promise him anything. you just stay.

because when marky calls you “mom” again, and he does, it’s not because he’s trying to forget who she was. it’s because he chose you. because you showed up. because you held space for him without needing to be asked. you didn’t take her place. you just became someone he could trust.

SMALL EXTRA NOTE ABOUT EMPEROR MARK AND HOW HE IS PORTRAYED

yes, the anissa/mark effect of marky is in this fic. yes, i’m keeping it in. and no, i’m not sugarcoating it, skipping over it, or pretending it didn’t fucking happen just to make things easier for the reader. because like it or not? that shit is canon. and it changes him. mark grayson gets violated, full stop. raped. used. stripped of agency and dumped back into a world that never gave him the space to even say it out loud.

it’s not just a “thing that happened.” it shaped him. and the silence around it? that’s part of the saddest parts of his character. so yeah. it’s in here. not for shock value, not for drama, but because i write mark as he is. broken, bruised, trying to parent a child born from something he didn’t consent to, trying to forgive himself for not fighting back, trying to live when the world kept telling him to shut up and lead.

this might be a slice of life + smut fic (and trust, it’s filthy), but i’m not gonna turn mark into some out of character deadbeat just to keep the mood light and horny. like no babe, this man fought to keep marky. he wanted his son. he was grieving, guilty, fucked up over everything with anissa, and still made the choice to raise that boy.

let’s not forget, it wasn’t mark who tried to leave marky behind. it was anissa’s husband who refused to bring him to space. in this fic, scott doesn't fight against it, and mark chose to take marky. chose to be a dad. and yeah, it’s complicated and ugly and the guilt’s still sitting heavy in his chest, but pretending he’s just ignoring his kid for plot convenience? nah. that’s not how we do things over here.

he’s not perfect. he’s deeply traumatized. but he shows up. he doesn’t always know how, he doesn’t always get it right, but the love is real. the weight of it is real. and you see it in how he raises marky, how he lets him in, how he lets you in, not just into his bed, but into his life, into his family.

this fic’s about softness, mess, healing, and yes, getting absolutely FUCKED on a throne, but it’s also about truth. and the truth is, mark grayson didn’t walk away from his kid. he couldn’t.

[who-do-i-know-this-man]

since this is where I got all my trans manga recommendations I figure I'll post this here. It's my first impressions after reading 1 volume of each.

Skip and Loafer: Pretty standard slice of life but I feel it's really well done. Each of the characters have strong and distinct personalities without coming off like caricatures. It's very laid back, based off the first chapter one might expect that it will do the "protagonist is the least popular student ever" trope but the story is smart enough to know that that's dumb. I also feel like the way the story has social webs is really cool. Even just from one volume it is super clear that every character has their own circle of friends that overlap with each other character's to various degrees. I would recommend this if you like a well done chill slice of life.

Last Gender: I have mixed feelings on this one. It kinda feels like a similar set up to Our Dreams at Dusk, which is one of my favorite manga. Both focus around people of various queer identities who frequent a specific place. But while ODaD has the main character, who serves as both a point of view and a connecting throughline to make it feel like the story is still progressing as we shift focuses. Last Gender does not have this. You would think the lady on the cover would be that but at least in volume 1 she's one of the least focused on characters. Instead the POV is constantly shifting to whichever character is being focused on. Also while ODaD focuses on a character or two + the main character each volume, Last Gender switches the focused character each CHAPTER. It has this weird format where each chapter is basically a character being like "I'm [name] and I'm [queer identity] here is a perspective." And then they meet person two who gives a different perspective and then said person two becomes the focus of next chapter. This leads to it feeling like a barely connected short stories where none of them have time to flesh out. It also leaves the central location to feel less like the lived in place of real community we are told it is, and more a place for exactly two people to talk to each other at a time. I'll try at least 1 more volume but if it continues this format I don't think I'll read further.

Welcome Back Alice: This is an odd one. So it's basically a love triangle between the main character, the girl he has a crush on, and the trans character who is being welcomed back (who is oddly named Kei and not Alice). What makes this odd is the character of Kei, who is such an incredibly strong and proactive character that she completely dominated the story. Almost the entire thing after she is welcomed back is her literally grabbing characters by the arm, dragging them places, doing things at them, and said other characters reacting. Now this isn't bad, it makes Kei a VERY interesting character, but I do hope future volumes give other characters any chances to show off their own personalities.

Just Like Mona Lisa: First thing I wanna mention about this book is the art is simply incredible. The limited use of color is so unique and striking that I literally made a post about it on my main the second I started the book. As for the story, it's another love triangle. And I'm gonna say now that my opinion of the story will depend a LOT on the ending. Because the setup is the world of this story has people born genderless, but around 12 they pick on and their body accommodates. The main character however is 18 and is still genderless. But they are confessed to twice on the same day, by both a male and female friend. The thing that makes me so wary is that the way they frame it is that the love interests basically have to compete to forcefem and forcemasc the main character since both of them want a hetero relationship. Now I HOPE that the story will acknowledge this as a character flaw of both of them, and their arcs will be about accepting the MC for who they are, but as of finishing the first volume it's unclear if that's the writer's intention. (I also of course hope for a poly ending since that is always the objectively best way to resolve a love triangle plot but that I would be less upset by it not happening).

Requiem of The Rose King: A lot sure did happen. I think I understood about 70% of it, but I may be high balling that number. This one I absolutely will need more than 1 volume to have any opinion of, I'm just putting it here for completeness. I am curious where it goes tho.

X-Gender: Our first autobiography; and honestly I felt it wasn't the best. With autobiographies I feel like the best of them have a clear vision of what to conclude. This could be of a certain topic of a certain theme (For some masterwork of autobiography I can not recommend enough the work of Zerocalcare, he has a show called Tear Along The Dotted Line and it is amazing. It will give you an idea of what I mean.) X gender does not do this. It feels much more like the author wrote whatever story they could think of when they wrote each chapter. There is no connecting throughline. There's literally a whole chapter where out of nowhere the author just explains to you stuff about periods, which while informative was not necessary for anything this book was going on about. Like the individual stores are interesting but it honestly feels more like a curated diary or a blog than a book.

The Bride Was A Boy: See this one gets it right. The author went into this wanting to tell the story of her transition and relationship to her husband, and keeps the stuff told relevant so that it feels like a cohesive book. The art is also so adorable, I'm honestly so disappointed that this author doesn't seem to have any other book (at least in english) because her art is just so cute. It's also the only book that was only 1 volume so I can recommend this one with certainty since I've read the whole thing.

Overall I would like to thank all of you who recommend these to me. I'll read at least another volume or two of even the ones I didn't like the best to see if they can turn me around, but quite a few of these I feel like I'm probably going to read all the way through. (oh also I know not all of the one's recommend to me are here, in particular ones I plan on reading online. I have most of these on my reading list still but I'm going through the many books I have checked out from the library first, so if I waited to make this post until I read those it would take quite a while)

[swiiivet-screamathon]

"Detective Almond Cookie, here to get intel on a dangerous threat. Have you ever seen this fella?"

"Oh well heya there Almond, which fella you thinkin' of?"

He shows a drawing made of Smilk to Avocado Cookie.

"Oh that fella! Not with my own eyes, but I've heard that plenty of other cookies have, they're really milking it."

"Have you heard anything of where they saw him?"

"Nah, not a lick. Vaguely within the trees but that's no place for a jug of milk to be."

"Hmh... Have you heard anything about him?"

"Apparently he's a real dangerous one, like ya said, but a threat I'm not sure of; he's been spending all of his time in the shadows! But if he is around here like everyone says he is I'm not sure what danger he really poses."

"If you ever do find him you better keep your guard up, my intel says he is someone who's got a crusade to bring forth destruction and suffering. Having him roam Earthbread puts ever cookie alive at risk."

"Destruction and suffering? That sounds simply terrible, seems we've been quite lucky to have had no such destruction."

Almond turns away from Avocado's smithing.

"Hey! You're looking awfully blue! State your name!"

"Huh? Elder Nightshade Cookie, have I done something wrong officer?"

"Apologies citizen, I'm Detective Almond Cookie and I'm on the lookout for a blue suspect, you wouldn't happen to have seen this cookie, would you?"

He barely glances at the drawing, trying to waft it away.

"I haven't seen him, but I've been keeping an ear out for him, I came over after hearing you all talk about him."

"A researcher huh? Do you have any leads? I haven't found Pure Vanilla Cookie and it seems he's the only one this beast is ever seen around."

"Wait, Pure Vanilla is missing? Isn't he brighter than the sun? How could you lose that!"

"This is my first day on the case, I might've simply missed him, don't panic citizen."

"I dunno anything about Pure Vanilla either but that's what I've heard for Shadow Milk too, it seems no one spots him unless he's being particularly careless when following him."

"You don't say."

"Mister Detective! I've been looking all over for you!"

"Huh? Cream Puff Cookie? What're you doing here?"

"I wanted to ask you the same thing! I've been studying with the other wizards here."

"You must've heard of this Shadow Milk then, hm?"

"I have! Seems that just like everyone here I also haven't actually seen him though, but I haven't been on the lookout, I've been busy learning new spells. :D"

"I see. You wouldn't have happened to learn a cookie-finder spell, have you?"

"No, that seems like a big breach of privacy though. :<"

"Good answer, kid."

"Can I show one I have learnt though? I'm not sure what it was called anymore but it's making your lil guys alive! Those macarons were so cute and it turns out it wasn't super difficult!"

"If it doesn't take too long, I should find Pure Vanilla as soon as possible."

"Okay! Y-yes!"

She lifts her stave and begins the words of her spell, but in her excitement she suddenly slips on her cape, causing a large explosion of jellies to spurt out. Almond backs up and shields Avocado who shouts loudly, but he's not quick enough to protect Elder Nightshade who gets a face-full of jellies who begin crawling all over his head.

He yells madly and slams his cane to the ground, causing every single jelly to fly off and start scuttering around the ground.

"Oh no!!!! I'm so sor--"

As Cream Puff begins profusely apologizing he growls madly and disappears into nothingness.

"--ry...? What-- what happened?? OH NO!!! I didn't kill her did I????"

"Calm down, Cream Puff, I don't think you did. I think she just teleported away. Though I've now got my suspicions on her."

"I hope she'll be okay. :s"

"Good news it seems your spell succeeded! These rascals are simply adorable! I'm quite jelly-!"

Over in the woods spawns a Shadow Milk, having dispelled his disguise in ravenous anger, revealing that the jellies had destroyed his neck ruffles in the very short amount of time that they were on him-- continuously growling and screaming madly.

His eyes dart everywhere around him, every pindrop of sound catching his attention every single time.

The more he panics the more he hyperventilates, and the harder he breathes the angrier and angrier and angrier and-- he looks up above.

With another violent yell he flies up into the sky, scanning the kingdom below him.

Finding what he was looking for he bolts down, grabbing Pv by the collar and dragging him into a nearby bush.

"GIVE THEM BACK-- GIVE MY POWERS BACK."

[tanjamikaelson]

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 50

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 50: | DINNER DATE |

That evening, Rafe spent extra time getting ready, buttoning up a clean, tailored suit and running a hand through his hair one last time. He hadn’t felt this kind of anticipation in a long time, and it surprised him. As he adjusted his tie, he heard the front door open, and his pulse quickened. He took a slow breath, preparing himself for the moment he saw you.

When you finally came into view, Rafe’s eyes widened slightly as he took you in, a quiet smile spreading across his face. You looked stunning, somehow brighter than ever in a deep burgundy satin dress that flowed gracefully around you. Your makeup was soft, highlighting your natural beauty, and your hair cascaded in soft curls that framed your face perfectly.

“Wow, you look…amazing,” he murmured as he walked closer, his gaze warm and appreciative, barely hiding the admiration he felt.

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” you replied, smiling as you placed a hand on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, steady but strong, beneath your fingers.

Rafe’s hand found your waist, pulling you gently toward him as he leaned down to kiss you. The kiss was slow and tender, holding a warmth and softness that made your heart flutter. This wasn’t like other kisses. It felt like a promise.

As he broke the kiss, he looped your arm through his, leading you out to his car. In the car, the two of you didn’t talk much about the events with Sofia or the past few days. Instead, you focused on each other, letting the comfort of each other’s presence speak volumes.

Once you arrived at the restaurant, a waitress guided you both toward the reserved table. The lighting was soft, the atmosphere intimate, and as you walked through, your gaze suddenly landed on a familiar pair: your parents. They were seated close to your table, and your heart stuttered with a mix of irritation and anxiety.

“Oh shit. My parents are here,” you muttered to Rafe, keeping your voice low.

flickered down to you, a calm reassurance in his gaze. “We can go somewhere else,” he offered.

“No, it’s fine. They already saw me,” you replied, forcing a small smile as you settled into your seat.

Dinner went smoothly, the conversation between you and Rafe flowing effortlessly. You shared laughs, stories, and glances that held an intimacy that felt refreshingly honest. With each word and gesture, the tension of your parents being nearby faded into the background. By the time dessert arrived, the evening felt almost perfect. But as you were waiting, you felt a familiar presence behind you, a feeling that made your shoulders tense.

“Were you at our house?” your mother’s voice cut through the quiet ambiance. Her tone was sharp, tinged with accusation, and the way she said “our house” stung as if you were no longer a part of it.

You swallowed hard and turned to look at her. “No, why would I be at your house?” You couldn’t keep the edge out of your voice, emphasizing “your” with deliberate distance.

“Don’t lie. We have you on camera,” she replied coldly. “You were outside the front door checking if it was unlocked, and then it cuts to the other camera showing you sneaking in through a window like a thief.” Her voice was laced with bitterness. “You’re lucky we didn’t report you.”

“It would be a shame to report your own daughter,” you shot back, the sting of her words settling deep in your chest.

There was a painful silence before she continued, “And the spare keys you took…I want you to return them. Tomorrow.”

The demand hurt more than you expected. “When are you going to stop being mad at me?” you asked, your voice a mix of frustration and quiet pleading, but she only looked away.

“Return them tomorrow.” Her final words hung in the air as she turned and left without another word, her heels clicking against the floor as she disappeared out of the restaurant.

You exhaled deeply, running a hand over your face, letting the hurt sink in. It was one thing to face the rift between you and your family, but it was another to feel so detached, like you didn’t belong anywhere.

“I knew it was serious, but this…” Rafe murmured, his face a mix of sympathy and anger. He couldn’t believe your parents treated you like this, like you were some kind of stranger in their lives.

“Yeah,” you said softly, taking a long sip of your wine. “I guess they’ll never forgive me.”

Rafe reached across the table and took your hand, his fingers warm and steady against yours. “If you need anything, and I mean anything, you come to me,” he said softly. His voice held a quiet intensity. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

You looked at him, feeling a grateful smile tug at your lips. “Thank you, Rafe. I don’t know what I’d do without you or Sarah... and everyone else. I wouldn’t even have a place to live.”

“Don’t say that. You could’ve always come to me,” he replied gently.

“But we weren’t even talking back then,” you reminded him, giving a small shrug. “You pushed me away… and if it weren’t for the Pogues, I’d have been on the street.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened slightly, and he looked down, nodding as he took in your words. “I know. But I could never stay away from you forever.” He met your gaze, sincerity shining in his eyes. “Just like you can’t stay away from me.”

You held his gaze, letting his words sink in, feeling that familiar warmth and understanding return as he looked at you with a rare vulnerability.

When the dessert arrived, you pierced your fork into the chocolate cake, savoring the rich taste as it melted on your tongue. But the sensation was only half the distraction; across the table, Rafe’s gaze was fixed on you, his eyes dark and filled with a hunger that made you shiver. The intensity of his stare sent a flutter down your spine, his desire for you unmistakable.

“What?” you chuckled, trying to feign nonchalance under the weight of his heated gaze.

Rafe leaned in slightly, his voice low and only for your ears. “I can’t wait to take that dress off you tonight.”

You let out a playful laugh, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t like it?”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I like it. You look sexy as hell.” His voice was deep, filled with a craving that bordered on impatience. “But you dress up like that and expect me to control myself. Do you even know me?”

“Oh, I do,” you teased, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “And I also know that whatever I wear, you’d still act like this.”

Rafe let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Fair enough.” He dipped his fork into his dessert, though it was clear his thoughts were far from food.

You leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Rafe…”

“What?” he asked, eyes darkening as they flicked down to your lips.

“If you keep talking like this, I won’t be able to wait until we get home.” Your voice was barely above a murmur, your body responding as you shifted, crossing and uncrossing your legs just enough to catch his attention.

A flicker of a smirk danced across his face as he licked his lips. “Are you wet right now?”

You held his gaze, savoring the moment before taking the last bite of your cake. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” you replied, letting the words linger as you finished your dessert with a deliberate, slow movement.

Rafe didn’t need any more hints. “Let’s go.” He stood up immediately, his eyes full of purpose.

“You didn’t even finish your dessert,” you noted, biting back a smile.

He shot you a smoldering look, grabbing your hand to lead you outside. “I’m craving a different kind of dessert right now.”

Once outside by the car, he wasted no time. Rafe pressed you against the passenger door, his hand slipping up your thigh, lifting the hem of your dress as his fingers found the thin lace of your panties. The heat of his touch sent sparks shooting through you.

“Dripping wet,” he murmured with a dark chuckle as you gasped at the sensation. “Get in the backseat.”

In a swift movement, he opened the back door and nudged you inside, following close behind. He barely had the door closed before his hands were on you, pulling the dress over your head. You were grateful for the car’s tinted windows, but in that moment, all you could focus on was the way he looked at you like you were his entire world, wrapped in the delicate lace you’d worn just for him.

Rafe hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, slipping them down as you worked to unbutton his shirt, your fingers fumbling slightly with impatience. You tugged the shirt off his shoulders, taking in the sight of him, the way his muscles flexed as he moved.

Without another word, you pulled him down, meeting him in a hungry kiss, your mouths colliding with a need that had been building since dinner. Your tongues moved in a heated rhythm, and Rafe slid two fingers inside you, his thumb pressing against your clit. You gasped into his mouth, a moan slipping out as he pumped his fingers, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

“I like how desperate you are for me,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “Getting this wet before I even touched you.”

You managed a shaky laugh, catching your breath between his ministrations. “You’re the one who’s desperate,” you teased.

“Yeah, I am,” he admitted, his free hand guiding yours down to the bulge in his pants. “Do you feel how hard I am? I’m gonna fuck you all night, baby.”

Your moan was loud, echoing in the confined space as he quickened the pace of his fingers, your body arching as you felt yourself close to release. He moved with expert precision, and with one final thrust, you shattered under him, your body shaking as you clung to him, the intense pleasure leaving you breathless.

Rafe didn’t give you a moment to recover. Your legs parted instinctively, inviting him closer as your fingers fumbled with his zipper, pulling it down and freeing him. He groaned as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling his hard length beneath your fingers. His breathing hitched, and he quickly grabbed your legs, hooking them around his waist as he positioned himself.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he slid into you, filling you completely, his eyes locked on yours. He moved with a torturous pace at first, each thrust controlled, his gaze heavy with passion as he watched the way you melted under his touch. You moaned, gripping his shoulders as he plunged deeper, the building intensity between you leaving you dizzy.

Rafe leaned forward, his mouth finding your throat as he increased his pace, his hips snapping against you with a force that left you breathless. He didn’t relent, his mouth and hands roaming, his touch igniting every sensitive spot he’d learned over time, your neck, the delicate skin beneath your ear, your lower lip. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as he pounded into you, each movement bringing you both closer to the edge.

Your heels dug into his back as you clung to him, the desperation growing with each thrust. A wave of pleasure crashed over him, his grip tightening as he gave one last, powerful thrust, his release hitting as he buried himself deep within you. The sensation was enough to push you over the edge, your own release following as you moaned in ecstasy, your fingers clutching his shoulders as the pleasure swept through you in waves.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the silence filled only by your ragged breaths as you both came down from the high, bodies entwined in the aftermath. The intimacy of the moment lingered, and you could see the satisfaction, the raw, unguarded look in his eyes as he met your gaze.

Rafe leaned back, pulling on his clothes with that familiar, confident ease before slipping into the driver’s seat. He shot you a knowing look, his gaze flicking down to where you sat in the backseat. “Leave the underwear off,” he murmured, his voice thick with anticipation. “I’m not done with you yet. As soon as we get back to my place, I’m giving you exactly what you deserve.”

A thrill ran through you as you adjusted your dress, feeling the warmth of his promise lingering in the air as he started the car. The ride back was filled with a thick, electric silence, your pulse quickening every time you caught him glancing at you through the rearview mirror, the fire in his gaze burning just as fiercely as it had in the backseat.

When you finally reached his place, he wasted no time, leading you inside, his hands on you the second the door closed. It was as if the world faded away; there was only him, his touch, and the steady build of pleasure that followed. True to his word, he didn’t stop, not for hours. Every moment felt charged, each touch an unspoken promise as he explored every inch of you with a dedication that left you breathless.

You lost count of the times he made you come undone, each climax building on the last until your body felt spent, exhausted, and perfectly content. By the time dawn crept through the window, you lay tangled in the sheets beside him, your skin warm and tingling, a satisfied smile playing on both your lips as sleep finally claimed you in his arms.

TAGS: @wearemadeofstardust0 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @thepopcultureaddict @deeznuggetsbebussin @wtfdudesblog @davinashifts333 @pvyden @charchartumb-lr

[just-1other-nerd]

Oh my God, there is so much in this reblog chain that I need to comment on... disclaimer I only saw the show once in November/December so I'm not all too familiar with the details.

Prev you are absolutely right when you say that the writing was inconsistent and that the fandom is only still alive because of damage control and a ship. The thing is the show had so much potential and it was wasted time and time again but in between there where bits of gold that were what kept me going.

Another few examples for unconsistent writing: Allura being so easily manipulated by that dark force thing when we had a whole fuck ass episode in season one where she withstands the manipulation of a corrupted ai in the form of her father while having a fever, this mimi arc set her up for being the one on the team to have the strongest mental resistance from there on out but no. Lance going to be a farmer was shit, yes he loves his family and earth but he always wanted to be a space pilot, this is why he went to the garrison, he is one of those bragging guys from day one and he is always shown to want glory and fame so him going off the grid on earth is just actively opposing everything that was set up about him, they didn't even put in the effort to make him say an out of character explanation for this like "I was just acting like this so that I could be what people expect of me" and just threw that ending in there. Another inconsistency is the whole Allura Lance thing because he was the only one to express any interest but toned in down after getting rejected over and over again and after strengthening his platonic relationship with her and once he is at this more healthy place Allura suddenly does a 180 and has a crush and that after Lance tragically had barely any development except for maturing a bit which makes us not understand where this change of feelings comes from since he is basically still the same guy who was rejected many times. And I want to be clear that this isn't Allura's fault but the writers, I like her despite all of the bad directions that they took her.

Now back to the actual topic of this post.

I also think Keith (my little beloved emo bitch) should not have become the leader because of the reasons op said, he's reckless, hotheaded, self-isolating and just in this position because Shiro set him up to be and not because of his actions. I mean I like the bits of growth he got through being forced into this role that was bigger than who he was but he shouldn't have been the black paladin in the 1st place, there were other ways to make him get the same development, like his role within the blades or his role as the literal right hand of Voltron's head, he was basically vice-leader from the start but that didn't get explored. I actually think that Klance works so well not just as a ship but as a general dynamic because of Keith's obvious character flaws and Lance's strengths on top of their banter. Lance is good with people where as Keith isn't, Lance is mature enough to put the team over his own needs where Keith is impulsive and emotional which leads to selfish and reckless decisions, Lance is straight forward and putting himself out there and Keith keeps to himself. Keith on the other hand has got more refined skills and so while Lance is good at fighting and piloting Keith will always be better at that. There's something about the other that they envy and but also deeply respect. Now imagine how this dynamic could have been been utilised better if Keith stayed the right-hand man instead of Lance becoming him and if Lance took over the leader role. It also fits better because even as the leader Keith often struggled with seeing himself as part of the team while Lance did so despite their differences. And we know Lance isn't the best strategist or something but he is quite good at executing the plan so he could rely on others to help come up with a plan and him giving orders on how to go through with it, because that's what a team is for, balancing each other out with specific skill sets.

That being said I actually liked the bit where Lance accepted his position in the team as not the most flashy and important one, him coming to terms with that was as good thing, he matured. He became more confident because he saw the worth of his current position.

My personal take on the whole changing of positions within the team is that I didn't want it to happen at all because every decision they could have made kinda felt wrong to me mainly because it always meant that somebody new would have to be the 5th member. Shiro was good at his job because he was a leader before, he had experience, the only other person who can say that is Allura since she was born and raised in a high political position. But I didn't like her on the team as much as I liked the others. She is very much the heart of Voltron but she is way more capable in controlling the castle ship, think of it as Shiro being the captain but her as the commander. If she wanted to be a paladin she also could have just assumed that position from the start like she didn't have to assign it to one of the random teenagers. Remember how they used the wormholes (which only Allura could activate from her position on the ship) in their battle strategies in the 1st two seasons? That showed me that she isn't just a bystander or anything she is actively involved, while the lions are for fighting up close she was there to cover them and enhance their possibilities via wormhole. Once she was part of the team she couldn't activate those the way she did before which was just a wasted resource if you ask me. I never thought of her as helpless or not capable I just thought that the commanding position on the ship suited her better. She already was all of those great and interesting things, a princess, a political leader, a spiritual leader, a genocide survivor, a strategist, a commander, a diplomat, a teenage girl and so on, enough material to make her compelling and interesting without also making her a paladin if only the writers cared to explore those aspects of her more (I also feel like making her be a paladin on top of all those other things made her a bit of a Mary-Sue). But we all know there weren't enough other established characters in the series yet that could have become the 5th member so it had to be her.

This leads me to my next problem because as prev said Shiro basically dying after taking complete control of the lion and unlocking more powers was just so stupid, they should have done that whole thing differently. Shiro should have survived that battle and should have gone on a few missions in this new stronger shape before he was obliterated, that would have made the threat bigger and more dangerous and set up higher stakes because the loss would be even greater. The thing is that when "Shiro" came back it was hella suspicious and I was always doubting him but they didn't follow through on him being a clone for so long that at the point of the reveal I had basically accepted that he was just magically back. I love this angsty storyline on paper, guy "dies" and a clone sleeper agent of him who doesn't know he is one until activated is sent back as a spy on the team only for his brother to desperately want the real one back and go after him and them then reanimating the real one but in the clone's body is some fucked up shit which I like to see explored, which is why the Black Paladins episode is one of my favourites. But I think that it should have come earlier, the teams suspicions of "Shiro" should have grown, the black lion should have reacted in some way, the enemies should have used him more efficiently and a few more flashbacks of Shiro's and Keith's bond should have been there scattered across those episodes before the reveal to make it even more emotional. And of course they should have used Shiro better once he was back instead of sidelining him. My boy has been through so much traumatic shit and dealing with that would be so compelling especially since we never got it at first because of his memory loss but then because it wasn't him and then because they decided not to use him in a meaningful way anymore. I wish they would have showed us more than he's a perfect leader despite the shit that he went through, make him react to his trauma by giving him more flaws.

I gotta disagree with op's take on Shiro and Lance though, I don't think Shiro treated Lance all that bad because I don't think there really was any relationship beyond being colleagues and idolisation of Shiro on Lance's part. Which is a shame really because as you said meeting your idol is a complicated thing, one could lean into the whole "my idol isn't who I thought he'd be, he's flawed and not that interested in me" thing or "my idol is a real human being and I need to stop putting him on a pedestal". But Shiro never developed any strong bonds with the people with whom he already had history like Pidge and Keith meaning that Allura, Lance and Hunk (who btw was neglected the most by the writers) got left behind, I don't blame Shiro, I blame the writers.

Final thoughts: I liked Allura more in her commanding position outside the paladins, I think Shiro is the best leader for the team but if there was somebody who could replace him it is Lance, Keith should be in the position of the right hand, the sword, the blade, the dangerous missions kinda guy in the red lion because it is an important part yet not a leadership role and fits more with his momora and solo missions arc, Hunk and Pidge are perfect as the legs even the writers couldn't fuck that up. The thing is I like the idea of a team member going missing and them having to adapt and replace but in my opinion it shouldn't have been a permanent change but rather a half a season arc during which they all grow and learn to work together in a better way but ultimately being given the chance to go back to their original lions (the ones who chose them from the start - which means something to me) and discovering that their experiences made them a better team.

I like how the black lion is literally doesn't give a fuck about who is it's paladin. It took a battle to get zarkon out of it's system, it took no time for shiro to pilot it, and then like 5 seconds for it to accept keith. I bet that if lance was actually serious about being a leader and it wasn't just for show, black would let him in.

That brings me to the fact that the show was building up for lance to lead voltron, but then they decided that actually no, keith should be the leader (insane decision, actually unparalleled unhinged behavior, especially at that time)

Keith is a hothead, he's reckless and a loner. The fact that shiro wanted for him to lead voltron was pure nepotism. Lance has great spacial and emotional awareness, he always thinks about the team before he thinks about himself. Yeah he boasts and he's annoying, but he's the sanity of the team, he's the shoulder everyone can rely on in their time of need.

Don't get me wrong, this is not a keith slander post, i absolutely love that emo little shit. But at that point in the story, he was in no way fit to lead and he didn't want to. Lance was better suited for that role, but because of the writers' biases of "he's a comedic relief character" he didn't get to be a fully fledged out character.

[defectzim]

TaTr is real and good. <- have a whole story in its head that would NOT fucking happen in canon.

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

why didn't they just use franziska for literally all of this.

[milo-is-rambling]

Weight talk tw I guess idk how to describe the post sorry im a little high

It’s so weird being around people who talk about weight problems (IOP) and like idk it brings up weird shit in my brain almost anxiety that I should feel bad about myself somehow like I’m doing this wrong being confident idk. Weird self doubt thing that happens when you’ve loved yourself (hmm. Rephrase. I don’t care about being fat. let’s say that.) and then you’re in a room full of people having a group discussion about how they avoid living their life in happy ways because they don’t want to become like you. But you love yourself. But everyone in your life since you were little has been dieting and talking about weight and specific numbers (someone was anxious about gaining seven pounds! SEVEN. If they saw my scale they would shit themselves. I put on seven pounds taking a big bong rip Jesus fucking Christ seven pounds. I wanted to rip my hair out.)

Next time weight issues come up in IOP I’m stepping out of the room. Like idk how to explain it cause it’s like not a trigger but I guess it is ? But it’s just so weird like the way I’m triggered makes me want to cry why does the world hate me for being fat what the fuck !!!!

[demilypyro]

I'm interested in the gradual development of Miss Pauling.

Originally an almost incidental character in the Team Fortress 2 comics alone, no official model existed for Miss Pauling for the longest time. Her first appearance was in the WAR comic from 2009, two years after the game's release. She is mentioned by name, but you can tell her character isn't nailed down here yet. They probably aren't even sure if they're going to reuse her at this point. The Administrator herself isn't even fully developed yet.

Despite the tangential nature of her character, she made regular appearances in the TF2 comics, always executing the Administrator's will, though not much was really established about her personality or characteristics beyond being hardworking, extremely competent, and very loyal.

Around this time, the fans started making their own models to use her in fanworks, though with not much to go on in regards to her personality, there weren't many people taking an interest in her. The few times she did appear in fanworks, she was often relegated to just being the token girl character.

In 2013, Valve released Ring of Fired, the first of seven full-length Team Fortress 2 comics that would end up being the main source of character development and plot progression for the universe. And Miss Pauling was there as one of the lead characters, although her characterisation was still rather thin in this first issue.

The big moment here is the Love and War update. In 2014, seven years after the game's launch, the short film Expiration Date was released, the 15 minute video supposedly being a pilot for a potential TF2 tv show. That tv show never happened. However, Miss Pauling was one of the lead characters of the video. It finally gave Miss Pauling an official 3D model, which was notably somewhat different looking from her comic appearances up to this point, as well as a canonical voice.

It also established several defining traits to her character: she was extremely neurotic, kind of awkward, a bit silly, and she had a knack for gallows humor. These traits were heightened with the following Gun Mettle and Jungle Inferno updates, which gave her a bunch of voice lines where she talked to the player characters and let her kookier side show.

These traits would make it back into her characterisation in the comics going forward, finally reaching Maximum Pauling. She became the true Main Character of the TF2 comics, usually being the main perspective character, as well as being the character with the heaviest choices to make as the plot reaches its climax.

While Miss Pauling still to this day doesn't physically appear in the Team Fortress 2 videogame, she has become one of the most important characters of its surrounding universe, and you'd be hard pressed to find a fan who doesn't really like her. It's been fun to watch her develop from an incidental lore character to the unofficial tenth member of the main cast. I'm a huge fan of her.

Okay end of post

[o-wild-west-wind]

While I’m still a bit bummed that they didn’t go with a more book-aligned POC Fiyero for the Wicked movie, I’ve been thinking (heheh) about how his being white highlights the really interesting foil relationship between him and Glinda (and, in many ways, the audience yourself).

At its core, Wicked is a cautionary tale about propaganda, (literal) scapegoating, and what it means to uphold the status quo. The audience is watching through Glinda’s eyes—it is through her, arguably the most beautifully tragic character of the show, that we learn how lonely life becomes when you forfeit your values in favor of systemic power and likability (“No One Mourns the Wicked” is, in many ways, about HER).

Now, this is where Fiyero’s whiteness can get interesting—if you consider him and Glinda to share roughly equal footing at the beginning in terms of privilege/how much they have to lose (applying our real-world lens of race and power here, where whiteness is the apex), his storyline essentially represents what could have happened if Glinda had made the brave (and arguably wise and loving, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down 👀) choice to go with Elphaba and fight the good fight (this is also why I feel like a queer reading of G&E’s relationship is almost implicit to the story, but I digress).

As the POC/marginalized allegory, Elphaba has much less of a real choice in her curtain-pulled-back turning point. But Fiyero and Glinda—both representing privilege—get to choose. So in Act II, we see the consequences of both the choice to stay (Glinda) and to go (Fiyero). In Fiyero’s case, his ultimate rejection of his own power, privilege, and even beauty leads to immense physical loss—including his own body—but that is then compared to the loss of love, community, and identity that we see Glinda left with by the end. And this brings us to the question that the audience is left grappling with: in an unjust system where loss is inevitable (a.k.a. our own world, as the Wizard himself represents), which of these things are YOU more willing to give up?

It’s important that Glinda is an empathetic character because, in reality, most people are going to be Glindas (obvi this is nuanced among us Elphabas of marginalized identities, but I’d still argue that there’s some level of Glinda in us all)—and it’s important to be rattled by the end of the show when you realize that she is the one who has the sad ending. But it’s also so important that Fiyero is empathetic (which I’m SO glad this movie leaned into)—because he’s ultimately who Glinda—and thus we, as the audience—should have been.

And especially given the state of US politics right now…this is just all more relevant than ever.