#was a direct result of a bad decision

[grey-sides]

A lot of people like to make Charles able-bodied which is almost certainly a product of First Class and his bad decisions in DOFP. But.

I personally would like to give a TED talk about what I think sex post-disability would look like for him.

[nicollekidman]

buffy essentially conditioning spike like an animal to never believe what she says and to act against her wishes because she doesn't mean what she says and can't say what she means, including "no" and them both having to break out of those patterns (buffy by being honest and gentle with both of them, spike by regaining his soul and therefore rebuilding a moral code outside of reactions to violence and/or proximity) in order to be together............. <33333

[just-writing-ideas]

cw: abuse and trauma and other unsavory things

interesting character backstories

because "my parents hit me or force me to be perfect" won't cut it for every character in the cast

-characters who grew up poor. poverty is traumatizing, people. i wanna see characters who never ask for anything, count dollars and coins, freak out when the bill isn't split fairly and immediately suspect bed bugs when someone says they're itchy. and mention the ugly stuff too. smelling bad and having water stains on the walls. ice cream for dinner and not eating breakfast. lights going out and fourteen year olds supporting a family of five.

-characters who were neglected. not physically abused, neglected. who don't understand why people care when they don't show up, or seem kind of down today, or leave a party without saying goodbye. who are too independent for their own good. who can't think of anything to say when asked to describe their parents. who are okay with being lonely. who always feel lonely. who get uncomfortable if you even ask them how their day was. who does that?

-characters who were smothered. who were treated like a toddler well into their teens. who were practically stalked by their own parents, never allowed a moment of privacy. who were constantly belittled and denied their autonomy as the adults in their life made every decision for them. regardless of how loved they truly were, this is abuse. this could go in two diverging directions: end result of a very guarded, mature character feeling a constant need to prove themself, or end result of a passive, immature character who requires attention, praise and constant assistance. both have extremely low self-esteem.

-characters who are fundamentally different from their family. maybe they're queer, or adopted, or disabled, or aren't fully related to the rest of them (bonus points if they aren't the same race as their family). characters who watch like a ghost as everyone else smiles and bonds. and maybe it's their fault that they're like this, or maybe it's their fault for not reaching out to the family themself, but... nobody else had to ask for it.

i forgot about this blog

[thebreakfastgenie]

This is going to get me screencapped and ridiculed by leftblr but at this point I don't care.

The way people talk about Ruth Bader Ginsburg is misogynistic. This post is not about the merits of her decision to remain in her seat. I've discussed that before and I'm happy to go through it again with anyone who is genuinely interested in the complexities of that situation, but for the sake of this post, I am not arguing that it's unreasonable to believe, with the benefit of hindsight, that the country would be a in a better position today if Ginsburg had retired in 2012. The issue I want to address is how people talk about it.

People who blame Ginsburg for the current state of the Supreme Court tend to throw around words like greedy, selfish, and ambitious, echoing a familiar form of misogyny. Ambition is only bad when women demonstrate it, and women in politics are regularly punished for ambition. Even more disturbingly, people tend to blame not just Ginsburg, but the women and girls who looked up to her. I've seen the "Notorious RBG" nickname derided as a cult of personality, when the reality is that Ruth Bader Ginsburg was a trailblazer and a role model to a lot of women and girls. I've seen leftists try to hide behind valid criticisms of some of Ginsburg's positions (and it should, but doesn't, go without saying that you can see someone as a role model without believing they are correct about every issue all the time) but you barely have to scratch the surface to see that the real complaint is that they think women who admire her are cringe. I don't know if people understand how significant she was; she was only the second woman on the Supreme Court and the first, Sandra Day O'Connor, was a conservative Reagan appointee. Even so, Justice O'Connor spoke about the significance of Justice Ginsburg joining her and reality that women faced in their position being more apparent when she could see it happening to someone else. It's the same old anti-feminist story of dismissing women and their desires.

This particular case rankles me because it's underscored by the complete silence about Anthony Kennedy. Ruth Bader Ginsburg made a judgment call about her health that didn't work out--and barely; she died four months before Trump left office. Anthony Kennedy, a supposed moderate justice who claimed to not want Roe v Wade to be overturned, retired in 2018, knowing full well Trump would replace him with someone who would overturn Roe v Wade. It was Kennedy's replacement, not Ginsburg's, that doomed Roe. The decision was 6-3. If Ginsburg had lived four more months, or retired in 2012 and been replaced with an Obama appointee, the Dobbs v Jackson decision would have been 5-4 in the same direction. Anthony Kennedy was replaced with Brett Kavanaugh, a white man who sobbed crocodile tears when confronted with credible allegations of sexual assault and ultimately faced no consequences. Anthony Kennedy let all of this happen and slunk off into his cushy retirement. Where is the anger for him? He's alive! Being angrier at Ginsburg than Kennedy makes absolutely no sense. There is no logic to explain it, only misogyny.

It doesn't escape my notice that the anger at Ginsburg goes hand-in-hand with blaming women for their own suffering as a result of the Dobbs decision and with blaming Hillary Clinton for the 2016 election, while making any excuse for not voting for her or deriding her for months. It's emblematic of a political system that does not care about women and despises women trying to speak up and make our issues known.

[pitchsidestories]

all the stars are closer II Keira Walsh x Lioness!Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1284

summary: Keira's girlfriend watches from the bench as Keira scores her first goal for England and they share a sweet, unforgettable moment celebrating together after the match. requested

author's note: Hi everyone, a bit late and perhaps not the best timing after Tuesday's results, but we hope you'll still enjoy the oneshot. Happy reading !🤍🤍

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

You shrugged into your jacket with a smile as you took your seat on the subsitutes’ bench. That game had been so much fun. Everything had seemed to fall perfectly into place. Sure, you would’ve loved to stay on the pitch for longer, but you were more than happy to make room for one of the younger players. With 70 minutes of game time, you really couldn’t complain.

Watching from the bench wasn’t too bad either. It was just as entertaining, especially when the game had some surprises in store. Like when the ball landed right in front of Keiras feet. You expected her to pass, like she always did. But this time, she pulled back and took the shot.

“Oh my god!”, you yelled, leaping up from the bench and ready to celebrate the goal.

But the ball missed its target, rolling out of play.

Leah, already subbed off as well, gave you a lazy smirk: “Calm down, y/n. She missed.”

“But it was so close.”, you pouted playfully and plopping back down on the bench.

Ella leaned over to you: “Is it true that Kei has never scored for England? Seems like a curse.”

You opened your mouth to reply but Leah beat you to it: “You know her. She rather passes the ball to someone before actually shooting herself.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”, you added with a shrug.

Leah raised an eyebrow: “Even I scored more than her.”

“Yes but she makes other players shine with her decisions and position play.”, you countered which caused your teammates around you to groan loudly.

Elle let out a frustrated sigh and waved you off: “Stop talking to her, Lee. She only sees the girlfriend.”

“You’re right. Also it’s disgustingly cute how she’s Keiras number one fan.”, Leah rolled her eyes jokingly.

“Girls!”, Alessie cut in, directing the attention back towards the football pitch in front of you.

“What?”, Leah asked but you were already on your feet again, raising your arms in triumph.

“Kei just scored!”, you yelled, grinning from ear to ear.

Leahs jaw dropped: “No way.”

You hugged the defender in excitement: “She did it, Lee!”

“Can’t believe it.”

On the field, Keira was immediately embraced by her teammates, everyone immeasurably thrilled for her.

“Eight years in the making, I just googled it.”, Ella commented, holding up her phone and pointing to the screen.

Leah nodded: “Almost.”

You sank back into your seat with a contented sigh: “What a night.”

“She wanted to get that off her to-do list before turning 28.” Teasingly, the Lioness captain wiggled her eyebrows.

A cheeky whistle escaped Ella’s lips: “28? You girls are getting old, wait, is that a grey hair, Lee?”

“What? You’re only two years younger!”, Leah protested, her lips forming a pout.

With a playful glance at the Manchester United player, you quipped: “Not the brightest candle on the cake.”

“She still thinks she’s a youngster,” the Arsenal defender said, shaking her head in disbelief.

Alessia quickly turned everyone’s attention back to the pitch as the game came to an end: “Let’s join the others to celebrate the win!”

Excited, Aggie wrapped her arms around you for a quick hug as soon as your feet hit the grass: “Did you see her goal?! I told her to shoot more!”

“We did,” you replied, pausing before adding, “and well done yourself, Aggie.”

“Thanks,” she beamed at you, her eyes sparkling. The younger player had scored her first goal tonight too. There was definitely something in the air in Bristol tonight, something that made both the young and experienced player’s shine.

“You had a fantastic game.”, your words trailed off as your gaze found your girlfriend across the pitch. Your cheeks flushed, and you looked back at Aggie: “If you’ll excuse me for a second.”

"Sure, I’ll leave you lovebirds alone now.", the blonde smirked knowingly, clearly amused.

Still catching her breath, Keira greeted you with a smile that could light up the entire town: “Hi.”

“Hey,” you grinned at her, lifting her up effortlessly.

She let out a slightly embarrassed laugh, her hands running through her ponytail: “No, don’t.”

“Sorry, it had to be done,” you chuckled, slowly lowering her back to the ground.

Keira buried her face in the crook of your neck, mumbling: “You’re worse than Lee. She already squished me to death.”

“I’m not,” you disagreed. “She said you wanted to tick off the goal for England from your list of things to do before you turn 28.”

Keira groaned at the mention of a list she’d never even made. “That’s not true.” More seriously, the midfielder added, “It just felt right tonight.”

It seemed like the stars had aligned perfectly for this moment, under the lights, in front of home fans, with her family in the stands, and with you by her side. Everything about tonight felt destined to happen.

"Still proud of you, even if I know you don’t want to hear it," you said, your hands gently cupping her cheeks.

She smiled sheepishly: "You’re right, I don’t. But thank you anyway."

“You’re welcome.”, you replied, thrilled.  

Keira softly smiled at you, a hint of red creeping into her cheeks: ”I’m glad that I got to share it with you.”

“Me too. It was definitely a special night.”, you agreed sincerely and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

“It really was.”, she murmured, biting her lip.

Reluctantly you let go of her, smiling cheekily: “Come on, the people want to hear from you, goal scorer.”

“Oh no.”, Keira sighed when she spotted the journalists waiting impatiently for her, microphones in hand.

You chuckled quietly: “I know you can do this.”

“Sure.”, she said distractedly as she interlaced her fingers with yours and started to drag you along towards the press.

Once you realised what she was doing, you firmly planted your feet into the ground and stopped: “Excuse me? They don’t want to hear from me tonight.”

Keira nodded innocently: “Oh, they definitely do.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not!”

Still, you followed her, fingers brushing as you walked side by side. Just before parting ways to go to your respective interviews, you winked at her: “See you afterwards.”

“See you.”

In contrast to your girlfriend, you didn’t mind interviews at all. In fact, after nights like these you loved talking about the team’s performance and of course, you couldn’t stop yourself from praising the goalscorers.

While you were still mid-interview, Keira was already done, keeping things short and concise. She stood waiting on the edge of the pitch when Lucy walked over, a Belgium shirt slung over her shoulder.

“Done with media duties and waiting for your girlfriend, Kei?”, Lucy teased with a grin.

Keira nodded towards where you were standing behind a glass panel: “Yes. Apparently she can’t stop talking.”

“Typical for her.”, Lucy laughed.

“Takes forever.”

“There she comes.”

“Finally.”

You reached the, with a grin and wrapped your arm around Keira: “Time to go.”

“Please.”, Keira said with a pleading smile.

Together, you disappeared back into the dressing rooms, getting ready to go back to your team hotel. Just as you left the stadium to walk to the bus, your arm looped through Keiras, you pointed up towards the night sky.

“Don’t the stars look closer tonight?”

Keira followed your gaze, eyes squinting and nose scrunching: “Do they?”

“Yes, look.”, you nodded, insistent.

“I think you’re imagining that.”, the midfielder smirked.

“Hey, I don’t, okay?”

“Okay, whatever you say.”

You stopped and turned towards her: “Thank you.”

And so you stood there, under a sky full of stars, and kissed her once more, still basking in the glow of a night neither of you would forget.

As always, your comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. <3

[potofsoup]

Happy July 4th, everyone, and good luck to the UK voters out there!

Wow it's Year 11 of doing these!! Here's the AO3 link to the past 10 years, and here's the tumblr link.

Reminder that this is a long game -- some of the judges making decisions were appointed back in the 80s. Many of the cases that were decided this round were from Trump's term. So it's going to take long-term, consistent voting over a decade to start tipping things in the other direction. (Which I talked about in 2018 re: Trump shenanigans and 2022 re: Dobbs).

A lot has been done by the Biden administration (I'm assuming most folks have seen this post by boreal-sea with their very helpful sources), and much of that will be overturned by Trump, especially if he gets the Senate, and especially now that he would have a blank check for anything "official". So let's make sure that doesn't happen.

And even if Trump does get elected, your decisions down-ballot might effect control of the House or Senate, or might make it easier to vote next time, plus the whole plethora of state and local issues. It's Republican state attorney generals who are challenging climate regulations, for example.

Plus, when you really get down to it, only one of the candidates plans on pardoning himself and all his friends if he wins, and attacking the government if he loses. Maybe that guy shouldn't be the President.

If you're new to voting, remember to check voter registration deadlines! I'm a permanent vote-by-mail voter and it's so nice. :)

Transcript under the readmore

Page 1: Sam and Bucky meet up with Steve for a picnic. Steve: Thought you guys were still in Sudan? Bucky: I’m forcing Sam to take a break.

Sam collapses onto the picnic blanket. Sam: Oof, it just never stops, does it? Steve: Nope.

Bucky hands Sam an orange popsicle. Bucky: Eat and relax for a bit, Sam. Sam: Thanks.

Page 2: Bucky asks Steve: How are things state-side? Steve responds: HORRIBLE. Bucky: I thought you’ve been tentatively hopeful about what Biden has been able to achieve? Steve: I was! Student loans, child care, climate regulations, infrastructure, labor, trans rights … he’s quietly done a lot through regulatory improvements and congress bills. But now all people will talk about is how he’s OLD. And then there’s the Supreme Court’s decisions … Chevron and immunity… Steve puts his head in his hands, while Sam and Bucky look on with some concern.

Page 3: Bucky hands Steve a blue/raspberry popsicle: Steve, take a deep breath, and a popsicle. Sam: Sounds like we missed a lot. What’s going on? How bad is it? Steve: Pretty bad. The Supreme Court has made some decisions that give the Court and the President A LOT of discretionary power. Sam: Yikes, that doesn’t sound good. Steve: Well, the Chevron thing means that judges with life-term appointments can override policies made by government agencies. And now it’ll be harder to hold a President accountable because he will have immunity for any “official” actions.

Page 4: Sam: So if the President tries to, say, overturn a democratic election result, he’ll be allowed to as long as it’s in his job description? Steve: I don’t think threatening state electors is “official” business, but that will be decided by federal judges. Who get their jobs by approval from both the President and the Senate. Bucky: Yeesh. No wonder you’re stressed. Any good news? Steve: Well, thanks the Biden and the razor-thin Senate majority, the newer bills don’t rely on the Chevron deference. Still not great but not catastrophic. Sam, squirting ketchup on his hot dog: So what I’m hearing is that it’s now more important than ever to have a President and a Senate who you can trust to appoint fair judges, pass bills, and not commit crimes.

Page 5: Steve: Plus all of the state level offices, now that more and more deciding power has been thrown back to the states — abortion, LGBTQ rights, voting access… Bucky: Hey, at least this is a big election year so we can actually do something! Steve, with his arms crossed, looking surly: Except that all people want to talk about is how Biden is “too old” and “not doing enough,” as if that is on par with Trump’s desire to dismantle basic rights! As if the candidate who doesn’t embody ALL their ideals is not worth voting for! Bucky interrupts with a smart and a loud “PFFT.”

Page 6: Bucky: Um, Steve. YOU were like that in 1940. Sam, nudging Bucky: “Oh, this I gotta hear. Spill, Barnes.” In sepia, Steve is pacing around their apartment while Bucky is sitting and reading a newspaper. Steve: I can’t believe he’s running for a 3rd term! we need a fresh candidate to vote for! This is hardly a choice at all! AND he refuses to engage in Europe! All of Europe under fascist control and we’re just twiddling our thumbs? He’s letting millions die through his inaction! Bucky: Most people don’t want another war, Steve. If he came out for it, he would lose. Steve, indignant: But Buck, it’s your Polish relative who are in danger! Bucky, closing his newspaper and looking at Steve: Yeah, and between FDR and Willkes, I trust FDR to help if he could.

Page 7: Steve, in sepia, looking away: Should he be encouraged to do more? Maybe I should vote for Browder. The Communists have historically be Anti-Fascist.

Sam interrupts off-screen: Waitaminute! STEVE was going to PROTEST-VOTE? Steve: We were in a Blue State, Sam! Sam: But what about the down ballot races?! Steve: RELAX, I did my due diligence down-ballot. I wanted a senate that’s more progressive than the President.Voted LaGuardia for Mayor, too. Steve hesitates: Then, when I got to the President… I realized that the Best case scenario would be that my vote did nothing, versus if it actually spoiled the election. And when I asked myself who I could trust to work with my Senator… well, FDR had a good record with Labor. (sepia shot of young Steve voting) Bucky interrupts: Hold on, Steve.

Page 8: Bucky, eating a cookie, arching an eyebrow: You didn’t vote for Browder? Why didn’t you tell me? Steve: And have you say “I told you so” for the next century? Bucky: Heh.

Steve, with hand on his chin: What’s weird was that, despite everything, I still felt HORRIBLE when I ticked that box. Sam: Sounds like you built up the meaning of that vote far too much in your head. Logically, we know that a single box can’t represent all of the complexity of a whole system, but the desperately WANT it to. Just look at how people have built up so much around the term “Zionis” that it’s made productive conversations difficult.

Page 9: Sam and Steve speak in the background while Bucky reaches into the cooler and pulls out a box. Steve: Sigh. And that’s something that goes beyond the election. Sam: Which is why we need to vote, AND do other things. Bucky, looking at Steve and Sam: Like how Steve works to push organizations on the local level? Or like all the work you do as Captain America? Sam: Exactly. Vote AND.

Sam looks at Bucky fondly: Like how you vote AND make me and Steve take breaks. Bucky, looking stern because he can’t handle compliments: Shush, Sam.

Bucky holds up a cake that has the number “107” on it: It’s time for cake. Happy Birthday, Steve.

[mythalism]

blah blah thinking about the popular rebuttal to complaints about veilguard's politics being "bioware was never leftist so you shouldnt have expected veilguard to be" which is... interesting.

true, of course. the expectation part i disagree with but thats not what ive been thinking about. im thinking about what made it feel so different to the very similar centrism of da:i. and maybe someone who didnt black out the entirety of veilguard as a cognitive protective mechanism can speak to the specifics but i think ive settled on it being that da:i is undoubtedly neoliberal and centrist just like da:o and da2 before it but despite their clear framing and limitations there was always the encouragement to think and the freedom to do things that the game might condemn narratively as "too radical" but you could at least do them. or say them.

this erodes by the time you get to da:i but in veilguard its absent completely. like making leliana divine or putting briala on the throne, for example. the game presents these options in a very neoliberal and centrist way. the un-softened leliana divine epilogue slide features much of the "radical violence bad!!!!! bad choice!!!!" connotation that all of veilguard has. but you can still do it. briala has incredibly limited power as gaspard's puppetmaster and her epilogue slide similarly slaps the player on the wrist for behaving so radically by putting *gasp* an elf in power resulting in Bad Disruptive Uprisings throughout orlais. but you can do it. hawke can spare anders and let him go. again, the game slaps you on the wrist via character disapproval and the fact he becomes a wandering hermit or whatever the fuck but. you can still let him go. in origins you can make shianni bann and the consequences are disgusting and horrible and writing it that way is literally sickening, but the game lets you do it. origins lets you do a lot of buck wild shit, some decisions less real-world politically coded than others, but you get to DO IT. even if the game and its writers scold you afterwords for getting too disruptive. YOU CAN STILL DO IT.

and this goes the other way too. there is a reason people like greg ellis had a home with dragon age for so many years and his beliefs were able to go under the radar for so long. there is a reason transphobic gamerbros love origins. there is a reason there was backlash to da2's rampant bisexuality. because dragon age let you be leftist about as much as it let you be a racist misogynistic asshole. you can do horrible things in these games. you can quite literally sell people into slavery. templar aligned hawke lets the kirkwall circle get annulled and becomes viscount as a reward for their loyalty. the inquisitor can just execute literally everyone they judge. now, i'll be the first to say that a lot of those options are not nearly narratively condemned enough. bioware has fumbled many a topic in their misunderstood pursuit of "grey morality" that leads them to feel the need to morally equalize situations of clear, unambiguous injustice (cough mage templar war cough). in fact, decisions like sparing anders are often far more clearly narratively punished than things like giving fenris back to danarius, (which kind of just blows over after some approval loss???) and in my opinion that is a writing flaw. i do think RPG games should have choice, and allow players to be evil, but i also think that writers have a responsibility for the message their writing sends to the world. some decisions in dragon age are well-handled. many others recreate and reflect real life racism or misogyny or islamophobia, and reveal the writer's bias against real-life groups of people or political movements. this is the risk of writing stories like these.

but veilguard does not let you do anything. in either direction. ive been calling it a "thought-terminating fantasy cliche" because... it really is thought-terminating. you are not supposed to think about alternatives that may be too radical in the writer's eyes (what if i let anders go instead of face the justice [haha] the game clearly thinks he deserves? what if i install an elvhen puppetmaster on the orlesian throne despite all of my advisors recommendations? what if i support the murder-pope in reforming the chantry through violence and bloodshed?). veilguard has..... what if i save this city over that one? the only one i can think of is saving isseya. are there any others? genuine question. theres nothing to decide and therefore there is nothing to think about. you dont get to think of possibilities past the narrow centrist path presented to you. you dont get to think about an end for solas that doesnt end in jail. you dont get to think about who becomes tevinter's archon and what policies you might like to see them have. you dont make choices between major factions based on ideological and/or practical differences like recruiting mages vs templars. you barely even get to decide anything for the characters, half of the choices are purely cosmetic.

like i feel like theres something to be said for having the choice even if the overall narrative still condemns it. the writer's bias leaks in to the world's reactions to your decisions but you are still allowed to make them. i always intentionally leave leliana hardened because i think radical insane murder-pope who diversifies the church through ASSASSINATION is based. i dont give a fuck if david g/aider thinks its too crazy and tells me so in a thinly veiled epilogue slide reprimand about "the consequences of my actions". idgaf! 1. its a video game and 2. idc what he thinks.

and yes, nothing ever actually changes. dragon age has never allowed you to make radical change within its world even with the decisions that brush up on the possibility. but you can still be someone who believes in the possibility. you can play a mahariel who hates humans and poisons the ashes of their prophet because why should they care when they stole everything from the elves first? you can play a blood-mage circle-abolitionist anders-apologist hawke doing their best to survive in a city where survival and self-preservation sometimes forces them to act against their values. you can play a lavellan inquisitor who refuses to believe in andraste or the maker, advocates for elvhen liberation, and installs an elf on the orlesian thrown despite being forced into the role of figurehead for a religious empire. sure, you cant really actually do anything for the elves, but you can be someone who believes that change should happen. its not perfect. its certainly not some radical revolutionary fantasy nor does literally anyone expect it to be and when people say that its always in bad faith.

bioware has always been canadian liberal centrists and so have their games. but they used to let you get a little fun and crazy and then just reprimand you via epilogue slides or retcons in later games that we all just got to complain about online. but veilguard forces you to roleplay someone else's ideology; a boring centrist status quo loving fantasy with no opportunity to do something different. elven rooks cannot question dorian on tevinter slavery like elven inquisitors could. rook cannot ask lucanis about the child recruitment practices of the crows the way the warden could to zevran. rook cannot ask davrin about the warden's pressure into conscription, joinging and eventual calling the way the warden could alistair or hawke can to anders in legacy. you cannot ask about alternatives or question a single authority or character of any kind. you cannot voice dissent. the dialogue option does not exist. what was once a slap on the wrist in previous titles has become reactionary and preemptive. you wont get slapped on the wrist in the first place because you're stuck in a boring, empty room for after-school detention, railroaded into "good" behavior and confined to one path so you cant get into any trouble on your own. thought-terminating fantasy cliche. it didnt need to be some insane groundbreaking revolutionary work of marxism or whatever the fuck hyperbolic nonsense people are trying to straw-man the criticism into to disprove it as unreasonable. it needed to not advertise itself as an RPG and then force me to roleplay white canadian millenial neoliberal afraid of getting canceled on twitter simulator 4.0 because if i knew thats what i was signing up for i would have respectfully declined and saved my $70 on something that doesnt condescend to me for enjoying bald war criminals and stories about revolution

[astrolook]

🎤Unpopular Opinion: Debilitation of Planets in Astrology💬

Note: These are all my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years. Take what resonates with you more and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments if it hits home!

A planet is considered debilitated when placed in certain signs; its energy would be the opposite, weak or diminished. The planet would give malefic results. But not all debilitated planets are bad. A single planetary placement or aspect can't determine the outcome. Debilitated planets can lead to positive outcomes as well. You can consider this post for your natal chart(D1), D9 or any divisional charts. Vedic focused post.

Sun is debilitated in Libra - First off, everyone born under the Libra zodiac season is gonna have a debilitated Sun. The Sun represents ego and authority, but Libra seeks balance and compromise, two things the Sun isn’t great at. It’s like putting a spotlight in a room full of mirrors. The light scatters, and the focus fades. Sun thrives on decisiveness, but in Libra, it weighs every option like choosing which restaurant to eat at. Libra Sun people cater to the needs of others, forgetting their own. Libra is all about "we" and Sun is all about "me". The positive side of this debilitated Sun is that it's leadership with diplomacy. The ego takes a backseat, giving space to social intelligence and emotional tact. Thrives in partnerships by bringing light to shared goals, not just solo ambition. A natural peacemaker. I don't see why it's bad. Even exaltation can give bad results at certain positions, like the Sun in the Aries 12th house. Until they move somewhere else or work behind the scenes, this Sun makes a native feel like a background character in their own life.

Moon is debilitated in Scorpio - The Moon wants emotional safety, whereas Scorpio wants emotional intensity. Moon wants to be seen and felt, but Scorpio wants to stay locked in. Scorpio Moon people would sulk in the corner like, "No one gets me!" but the Scorpio is like, "Cool! Let's keep it that way." These natives are the kind to cry behind sunglasses. On the positive side, these natives don't break easily and are human lie detectors. Scorpio Moon natives aren't afraid of the dark, they grow in it. They feel others' emotions and can be a safe haven for others. Moon is exalted in Taurus and if it's in the 6th, 8th or 12th house or aspected by Saturn, North node or Mars, even this exaltation can give results like mental unrest, health issues, hormonal imbalance, etc.

Mercury is debilitated in Pisces - Mercury wants logic and Pisces swims in feelings. Mercury loves clarity and Pisces loves mystery. Mercury is all about details, whereas Pisces blurs them. In Pisces, instead of a direct answer, these natives talk in metaphors or symbols without getting to the point. Decision-making gets foggy. On the positive side, this placement is great for poets, artists, fantasy writers, singers, lyricists, etc. Pisces Mercury sees beyond the box, they live outside it. These natives are drawn to the invisible layers of life and are great at making intuitive leaps where logic falls short. Mercury is exalted in Virgo and in certain positions, like Mercury in the 8th or 12th, can cause severe anxiety and nervous disorders. Virgo Mercury natives can sometimes be tone-deaf and can have little empathy.

Venus is debilitated in Virgo - Venus wants a candlelit dinner, whereas Virgo notices if the lighting is too warm or the cutlery is sanitized. Venus loves to write a poem, but the Virgo proofreads it until all the feelings are gone. Venus is about seeing beauty in everything and acceptance, but Virgo is like, "But my hairstyle doesn't match my aura!". Venus wants harmony whereas Virgo wants improvement. Venus loves beauty whereas Virgo gets lost in flaws. On the positive side, Virgo Venus natives express their love through acts of service. These baby-faced cat energy natives see the beauty in the practical. Can be picky in relationships and won't waste their time on short-term affairs. Venus flows but Virgo Venus edits to fit their theme. An exalted Venus in Pisces in the 6th can have poor boundaries, leading to over-giving. In the 12th, they can be sacrificing and put their partner on a pedestal or have secret affairs. In the 8th, they can attract abusive partners due to their idealization of love.

Mars is debilitated in Cancer - Mars wants action whereas Cancer wants emotion. One wants to fight, the other wants to feel. Mars is direct and to the point, but Cancer is sideways. Cancer Mars sulks and simmers. Decision-making becomes emotionally biased. Instead of direct rage, you get cold silence, guilt trips or "I'm fine" with death stares. On the positive side, Cancer Mars gives the "mama-bear" energy. These natives win quietly and won't advertise their accomplishments. Cancer Mars takes action when it really matters. An exalted Mars in Capricorn can be blunt or bossy, even in personal settings. If it's in the 8th or 12th house can become self-destructive in some cases. Can have anger issues.

Jupiter is debilitated in Capricorn - Jupiter wants you to have faith in the Universe/ God but Capricorn wants proof. Jupiter expands whereas Capricorn restricts. Jupiter brings hope but Capricorn is cautious and won't move an inch without a backup plan. Philosophy meets harsh reality. On the positive side, these natives turn their big dreams into solid, long-term goals. Their faith isn't blind, it's earned. They won't believe until they experience it firsthand. Slow and steady growth, the growth that lasts and leaves a legacy. An exalted Jupiter in Cancer, their belief and value systems are emotionally driven. They give away too much of their time, money or trust to people who don't deserve that and end up feeling drained/ exhausted. May resist growth if it means leaving their emotional “nest” or support bubble, especially in the 3rd or 4th house.

Saturn is debilitated in Aries - Saturn is like a slow cooker whereas Aries is a microwave. Aries wants to lead but Saturn is like, "Well, earn it!". Hard lessons in control. Aries can be like, "Why can't I have it?" and Saturn would be like, "Bcoz you're not ready." Explosive frustration. On the positive side, these natives are tough cookies. Aries Saturn people evolve fast. Others reach level by level, but these natives skip a few levels due to maturing faster than others. An exalted Saturn in Libra can become paralyzed in decision-making. Can try to fix everyone around them, especially in the 1st or 7th. Prone to attracting people who are emotionally cold towards them.

North Node is debilitated in Sagittarius - Lol, this placement is like a philosophy class being run by a conspiracy theorist. The North node just can't stick to one belief system. Might practice three different religions within a year or so. Sagittarius likes spiritual direction, but the NN is obsessed with anything foreign, forbidden and wild. Sagittarius wants to go deep into one philosophy. NN would be trying Buddhism this month, Witchcraft next month and invests in cryptocurrency in between. Can be cult-like thinkers, in some cases. On the positive side, these natives challenge dogma and are drawn to higher knowledge. Can be visionary thinkers if it's aspected by Saturn or Jupiter. Seeks purpose beyond success. They might fall for a few fake gurus first, but when they finally get it, they really get it.

South Node is debilitated in Gemini - Gemini is all about intellect, but SN is like, "I don't care, everything is an illusion." SN can't handle Gemini's endless questions, it would rather meditate in silence than debate logic. Gemini is social but SN wants to be alone. Gemini juggles with hundreds of interests whereas SN deletes all apps permanently. SN is like an ancient soul forced to deal with a toddler. On the positive side, SN rejects surface-level info and can access deep insights, spiritual or metaphysical. These natives can't be fooled by trends or fake news. They know that the celeb X and celeb Y aren't into each other and just doing it for clout and money. They walk with the "I'm too old for this" vibe and don't give a s#!t about what that model with 15M followers on insta had for breakfast.

Note: There is a debate over NN-SN signs of debilitation and exaltation. Some say it's Taurus - Scorpio, others say it's Gemini - Sagittarius. Personally, I stick to the Gemini-Sagittarius signs as I find it makes more sense to me.

✨🔍Wanna dive deeper into your chart's layers? 🌙💬 Check out my pinned post for pricing and more info 💫💸

[andcars]

Ollie Bearman on a Land Rover, 1A1D1F-0304061316, for a race weekend!! Also, I just wanted to say I love all the designs you make, everything looks so cool!

ON PEDESTALS ━━ OB87

﹙ 87 ﹚ ─────── like an active sinner, again and again

being a driver's manager is tough, especially if he's trying to fuck you when you're years older than him.

relationship(s) ollie bearman/you tags top reader, dominant reader, daddy kink, age gap, praise kink, unprotected sex, anal sex wc 800+

౿ MASTERLIST ⠀REQUEST ME ⠀ TAGLIST⠀ PATREON GUIDE

radio "comments and reblogs are much appreciated!"

▶︎ ❝ oww. ❞ halo boy, bubble

Trying to manage a man like Ollie Bearman is tough. He’s the kind of kid who says what he wants, does what he wants, and expects no bad results in the media. For most of the time, he's right. There's nothing bad about him in the media.

It's out of it, you're worried about.

“Take it—fuck—slow!” You gasp out, Ollie pinning you to the wall. It's almost inspiring how he has no sense of direction, and yet it feels good anyway. He makes it too good, in fact, that you forget that you shouldn't be doing this. “You're too eager,” you say, shirt being taken off to almost the point of tearing it.

Ollie giggles. He reaches past your belt and mouths your arousal. “I think you're just getting old, old man." 

He's been hanging out with Gabriel too much.

You think of telling him off. You think of seriously putting a stop to this… thing. He pulls you out of your thoughts when his teeth bare at your bulge.

“You little brat!" He laughs at your outburst. So, you man up to your decisions, and bring Ollie to bed with him hanging off your shoulders.

It's like Ollie wants to be disciplined. You're not exactly surprised if he craves to be disciplined. The bed thumps as you both fall into it, a fit of giggles becoming an echoing sound. “You're a little brat," he laughs as you tickle him to submission, probably the opposite of what he thought would happen.

“Oh my god—!" He pushes you off, knees up to his chest. “Stop that! Just get the lube and fuck me already, please?” 

Ollie is a very persuasive person. You think that if you keep giving in to him, he’ll end up with a bigger head than most Formula 1 drivers.

Humming, you reach into the hotel drawers. “Every day, you really do test my patience, hm?” The lube is cold, and you warm it up with your fingers. “Little Ollie just has to be a demanding little piece of shit.”

“Mhm,” he puts his legs around your waist, “But Daddy likes it when he has to make me obedient, does he?”

Fuck yeah, Daddy does.

It doesn’t take long until Ollie clung around you, clutching onto the mattress, and moaning like no one can hear him. It’s almost virginal how tight he is. It’s been too long since you guys fucked and shit can you feel it. You lean towards his collarbone, making marks lower than any shirt can expose him. His nipples are perked up from the A/C of the room, and you pinch them to make them look pinker.

“Fuck, Daddy,” he drawls out, the accent almost ridiculous. Yet you can’t shake off the fact that this has turned you on more than anything has in your life. “Right—right there, fuck, yes m-more!”

“Such a good boy for me,” Ollie moans like a pornstar. “You love having your daddy fuck the shit out of you, don’t you?” He mutters out a string of yesyesyesyesyes like he’s too entranced by the feeling of your pistoning cock inside of him. “Like being down and dirty with someone like me? Someone old enough to be your Daddy. Such a perverted boy, baby. Such a cute little thing.”

Every word you say, he takes it as gospel. He prays your name over again in a spill of calling you his daddy. It doesn’t matter if there’s gonna be grey in your hair, or that your body is way larger than his lean one. It doesn’t matter that you’re going to walk him to the paddock next week, and that you’re leading him around with a rough hand on his neck.

Ollie’s going to scream, “‘m gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum, please Daddy let me cum!” like there’s nothing else that matters in the world.

“Make a mess, baby,” you tell him, one hand going to pet his hair. “Make a pretty mess for Daddy. He wants to see how much of a wreck he’s made you.”

Ollie whines, “Kisses, please?”

“Only for good boys.”

You lock your lips together, tongues testing each other before you shove yours inside his mouth. His moans are muffled into your mouth as he soon climaxes all over his stomach. It’s not long until you fill him up either. The warmth of being inside of him, the rawness of it, it’s all getting to your head.

Fucking your cum deeper in him, you slow your pace. He’s practically writhing as he calms from his orgasm. “Mmm,” he hums, throwing his head back, “Not bad for an old timer.”

You pull out of him, watching your cum drip out of his pink hole. “I seriously need you to stop hanging out with Gabriel,” he only laughs as you attack his neck with kisses. This is bad, but you’re going to do this all over again the next opportunity you get.

@Delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @rtorresblog @Jamie2305 @nichmeddar @vannylen2144

[flawseer]

Your thoughts on the wof characters have been really interesting and I'd love to hear your take on Starflight (your assignment of him being the 'designated sufferer' of arc one is both hilarious and tragically accurate). I've always liked him, cowardly though he is he still acts when he really needs to and the dynamic between him and Tsunami is super fun (the whole outwardly combative but inwardly just wishing to be as strong/as smart as the other).

I like Starflight and I relate to him a lot, as a fellow chronic worrier who annoys his friends with constant blathering about stuff only I find interesting, and often finding myself paralyzed in the face of decisions.

It’s funny how the story puts forward a black dragon, which in media are usually portrayed as mysterious, ambiguously malevolent harbingers of doom, and makes him into this adorable dork.

He’s also the plot’s chew toy, which I am at times less enthusiastic about. Especially when jokes are made at the expense of his misfortune.

Wings of Night and Sea

Starflight’s and Tsunami’s friendship is very engaging because, in a sense, both of them complete each other. For each, emulating the other serves as their last resort when faced with a personal crisis. Whenever Tsunami encounters a situation she cannot overcome with her usual blunt and direct approach, she asks herself how Starflight would resolve the situation. When Starflight becomes overwhelmed and too scared to move, his mind conjures an image of the strongest, bravest, most unstoppable thing he knows, which is Tsunami. Though either would be reluctant to openly admit it to each other, they both rely on each other’s strengths to cover their own weaknesses.

Through this you get the sense that, while their opposite personalities annoy each other to no end—if you locked both of them in a room for three hours, they’d be strangling each other when you open the door again—at their core they have only the deepest respect for each other. It becomes especially apparent when you realize that both of their stories in their respective books have them compare themselves to the other unfavorably.

If these two ever did a DBZ-style fusion dance, the result would likely be one of the most capable and balanced characters in their series.

Starflight's misfortune

CW: Discussion of blindness

One thing I have noticed (and have alluded to a lot in previous posts) is that the plot really likes to kick Starflight in the teeth. His own story arc puts him through the wringer, but he is not even safe in the two arcs past that, where he is largely out of focus. Most of the things that happen to him in arc 1 seem to occur for the sake of the story, but past that... it sometimes feels to me like the world has it in for this guy.

I started writing a list of every bad thing that happens to Starflight over all three arcs, but it got way too long, so now I’m just going to talk about a few select things instead.

One thing that stands out to me is that every other protagonist in arc 1 gets a specific moment. That kind of scene where they enter their tribe’s biome for the first time or connect with a particular part of their culture/physiology, and are overcome with a sudden burst of euphoria or deep resonance with their own nature. Clay gets it when he submerges himself in mud for the first time and then later again when he finds his siblings, Tsunami when she sees and smells the ocean, Glory when she’s in the rainforest and feels the sun, and Sunny when they go through the magic tunnel and end up in the desert. Starflight is the only arc 1 protagonist who doesn’t get a moment like this; when he enters his tribe’s home for the first time it’s a giant craphole that makes him feel upset. It only gets worse from there.

Then there is the big one; the misfortune that happens to him at the end of his book. I struggle to talk about this because... uh... How do I put this?

I opened this post by saying I relate to Starflight on a personal level. I wouldn’t consider myself as studious or well-read as him, so it’s not a direct comparison, but I do like to draw, write and dabble in visual artistry. This is a major part of my life; how I define myself as a person and what I think makes me “me”. The thing about this though is that all of this is tied up into one thing: my sense of sight.

It follows then that what ends up happening to Starflight is the realization of the one thing I fear the most. Thinking about the possibility of losing ones sight is deeply, personally horrifying to me. It messes me up internally just to consider it happening to me.

This, the subject of becoming blind, is a very difficult topic for any story to properly engage with. There are many pitfalls you can fall into and come off as insensitive, or ignorant. The way Wings of Fire deals with this subject is to... well... it doesn’t really. Starflight is blinded and then the story skips over most of his reaction to it because the next POV character gets separated from the group while they sort it out.

In a way, this is a good thing. I don’t know how this series—which often rushes through these really uncomfortable, harrowing events—would be able to show a realistic reaction to this development. Like, losing ones sight would be a horrifying prospect for anyone, but for Starflight especially this completely uproots not only his entire life, but his sense of identity. Everything he likes doing, everything he is and wants to be in life is rendered virtually impossible by this.

Consider who Starflight is. He is a thinker, and a worrier who is always inside his own head. He dreads and fears, he seeks out worst case scenarios, I daresay he is inclined towards pessimism. Whenever his neuroticism gets him too stressed, or emotional, or worried, he has one immediate response: bury his nose in a scroll. When he arrives in a new place, he usually asks where the scrolls are at. When he is under threat of being abducted or attacked, his first instinct is to go grab his scrolls to keep them safe. Like with me and drawing, reading is how he unwinds, how he balances himself. It is what keeps him sane and functional through dealing with adversity (and he's Starflight, so he deals with a lot of adversity).

Then this happens to him, and suddenly the one thing that makes this poor, battered boy happy, the one thing that never hurts him, is taken away forever. If I was in his place, if I learned I was suddenly blind, I would fall apart. I would cry, then scream, then cry AND scream and probably flail around in a panic. Clay would have to hold me down and restrain me so I don’t end up falling off the platform in a frenzied fit. Or worse.

So yeah, I get why the plot had to look away. Seeing this happen to Starflight—him going through this kind of anguish and then sinking into quiet despair as his world crumbles around him—would have been heartbreaking. In the end, we go on Sunny’s solo adventure and when she returns Starflight is already conveniently past the screaming fit phase and has adjusted to his new life circumstances—enough to talk and joke as if nothing happened. He then goes on to dedicate himself to bringing the wonders of literature to other blind dragons, which is a noble goal and good trajectory for his character—even if it’s a bit abrupt and I would have liked to SEE him do that instead of just being told.

Anyway.

This next one isn’t as notable because it doesn’t happen TO him, but I want to point it out to back up my claim that Starflight Ls can and will happen even in story arcs that have very little to do with him. In book 6 Moonwatcher and Darkstalker have a conversation where they discuss the concept of Nightwing powers and how they relate to the moons. The story very pointedly draws attention to the fact that Starflight nearly was born under three full moons and would have become the most powerful Nightwing of his generation if his inept caretakers had not decided to hatch him underground. While I don’t think getting these powers would have been good for Starflight in the long run, it is a bit sad considering he spent most of his childhood thinking he was born wrong because he didn’t have powers, and then Morrowseer further gaslit him about it throughout the arc.

And then we don't talk about what happens in arc 3. I am not the right person to discuss it.

My take on Starflight

I was asked to give my take on the character, so...

I already went into how I think he’s very introspective and prone to worrying. I see him as an introvert, which is something he has in common with Glory, and contrast him with Sunny, Clay, and especially Tsunami. He enjoys reading but also other activities where he gets to use his brain. He likes puzzles; I imagine he got very excited when they had to figure out the murder plot in book 2, or when he caught Blister in a lie. If he had a computer it would be full of adventure and puzzle games, and he’d hog the resident DS to play the Professor Layton series all the time.

When they found the academy, it is implied he teaches a literacy course and gives out writing assignments. That is right up his alley, but I’ve always felt he also has strong math/natural science teacher vibes. There should logically be a numbers class at that school and I can’t imagine any other character who would be more suited to teach it.

If I were asked where I would make changes to his story, I guess I would nix the part where he and Fatespeaker hook up in book 5. I have nothing against their relationship, it’s actually grown a lot on me over time. But I never liked how it started. Starflight gets rejected by Sunny and then immediately hooks up with Fatespeaker. This is really undignified for her because it takes their potentially intriguing romantic relationship and turns her into Starflight’s “rebound chick”. You really need to give yourself some time to move on from your previous attraction; rushing like this creates doomed relationships.

The original story implies that about half a year passes between the end of arc 1 and the start of arc 2. I like to pretend this gap is actually a bit longer, by like 2 or 3 years. It gives the old protagonists a bit more time to settle into the roles they’ll occupy during the next arc, and makes it more plausible to me that they could build and outfit an entire school, write the curriculum, designate roles, etc..

In that time, with things being more calm now, Starflight has opportunity to get lost in his own thoughts again. It turns out, now that the dangers of the war are no longer distracting him, he finds it difficult to cope with his blindness and sinks into a depression.

While this happens, Fatespeaker is there with him. She sees his condition worsening by the day, but refuses to give up on him. She reads to him; they talk, and they bond. Though serious self-searching and hard work, together they manage to pull out of the darkness eventually. This is how their relationship starts, and it’s also how Starflight gets the idea to invent the dragon-equivalent of braille.

Somewhere during that time, I also imagine Glory has Tamarin escorted to Jade Mountain so she can help Starflight adjust to his new situation and learn how to navigate his life without needing to rely on others. Perhaps this is what motivates Tamarin to attend the academy later.

What else is there to say? Hmm...

I think Starflight is really fond of hard candy. Jawbreakers are his favorite especially. Though given how prone to misfortune he is in the story, I’m hesitant to put him in proximity of anything with a name like that.

[savanir]

continuation of this thank you again @mynameisjag for the inspiration, this prompt currently has me by the throat

Death of the Father, Death of the Son

The evening is dreary, rain pouring from the skies like tears. Typical Gotham fare to be honest.

This evening was the stage of the latest gala in the crime filled city, another fundraiser for something, or at least pretending to be. 

Vlad brought his dear Madeline as well as Jasmine with him, he was planning to do some light networking but this was also his latest attempt to cheer his sweetheart up. The new experience might distract her a bit.

She had not taken the news well… when the search party found Daniel’s clone corpse in the woods.

It’s been months since the funeral, but her spark for life still has not yet reignited.

And in those past few months Jasmine has seemingly taken over Daniel’s job and has become a most persistent thorn in Vlad’s side, absolutely refusing to let him make any sort of progress with Maddie.

But this evening wasn’t about any of that. There would be no bickering between Vlad and Jazz about him aiding her in finding her lost brother. Not like she even needed his help, she and Daniel’s old friends were probably doing the best job possible in finding the boy.

And it’s not like he could tell her he knew her brother was probably being kept by one of the world's greatest mercenaries. 

Revealing that would open a whole new can of worms he didn’t want to explain.

Maddie was mostly distracted at the gala, staring morosely at Wayne and his brood.

The sight fills Vlad with an insidious sort of anger, the kind that lays heavy and molten on the bottom of your stomach. She better not get it in her head to try and replace one bumbling oaf for the next.

Also… getting rid of a Wayne is apparently a weirdly difficult thing to do… Vlad would rather not bother.

And even though he feels bitter, it is rather nice to see Madeline cheer up when she gets to introduce herself to the boys. Vlad again thinks about his plan of conceiving a new son of their own, not to replace Daniel of course, the boy is irreplaceable but… well, yeah to replace him.

After all, is it really worth it to find Daniel anymore at this point?

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

The gala is uneventful right up until Vlad leaves the main area for a breath of fresh air, hopefully find the designated smoking area and have a cigarette (it’s not like those things can kill him anymore anyway) but on the way there he saw a shadow darting around the corner and he just couldn’t help himself.

If there was any illegal activity afoot, he rather be on top of it himself, that way he’ll know what he can pull and get away with.

It wasn't until he entered a room and promptly got ambushed that he thought that maybe he had walked into a trap of sorts, oh well, nothing Plasmius wouldn’t be able to fix.

Gotham is a city of freaks but none of them are on his power level after all.

Still, precious decisive reaction time got wasted because he’s thinking of an approach that would not result in him having to permanently silence his assailant. Murder is probably rough to cover up in the city that’s home to the world’s greatest detective and bribing the corrupt police force is such a hassle… a scuffle of a mugging/abduction or whatever gone wrong is much easier to explain.

Instead Vlad finds himself tazed, tazed of all things. Perhaps an ecto infused blast into the nearby wall isn’t such a bad idea after all.

But then he finds he can’t access his powers anymore, and a mild sense of dread takes root in his chest.

That taser… it couldn’t have been….

He isn't given much time to think about it as he’s expertly incapacitated and worked against the ground.

Vlad thinks he hears the faintest mutterings, something along the lines of “we do rely too much on our powers” perhaps it’s some veiled insult directed at his current situation. Uncalled for in his opinion…

Of course he struggles, he fights back. His attacker is way smaller than him, lighter and quick with their moves, whomever this is they certainly know what they are doing and Vlad hates to admit it, but without Plasmius he’s actually outmatched.

That leaves plain ol’ shouting for help.

An idea that quickly got snuffed out when a big army knife that crackles with sickly neon green energy gets pressed against his throat and a detonator gets shown off in his assailant’s hand.

“Quiet now, or I’ll blow this place sky high”

“That seems counterproductive” Vlad can’t help but snarl.

“aww, worried about me? there is no need I’ll be just fine, them on the other hand…”

the attacker puts a tablet down that shows a video feed of the main gala area with all the people milling about.

None of them matter to Vlad, but his Madeline and her daughter are there as well, he easily spots them too.

“What do you want, money? I’m sure there are better targets for that out there”

All of a sudden there is a strangely familiar staticy growl in his attacker’s voice, “I want two things from you, I want you to suffer and then I want you to die”

this is personal then… not good.

His attacker takes a moment to more firmly incapacitate Vlad against the floor before redirecting his attention to the video feed on the tablet screen. In the main gala area a big screen of it’s own has come down from the ceiling, usually meant for big fancy presentations (but those had already been carried out for the evening) and was now showing Vlad’s latest illegal activity for all the people to see.

Inside the room people are worriedly looking to and fro, wondering what rogue attack this will lead to, others are already gleefully taking to social media and broadcasting the events happening to the rest of the world.

Personnel are scrambling about to figure out what’s going on, and a couple Wayne’s have now subtly left the area.

“There we go, all out in the open. No more secrets”

Vlad’s eyes darted over the screen in horror.

“I like this right here,” his attacker zooms in on Maddie’s face as she’s realizing in real time that Vlad paid someone to kill her husband, “that’s a good face”

People are looking around and starting to notice Vlad is not among them anymore.

“You cannot possibly expect to get away with this, the Gotham bats are most likely already aware and hunting you down”

“I know-” His attacker shushes, “don’t spoil my fun, at least let me enjoy this show. Even if you somehow manage to get away from me now your life is completely ruined” 

Vlad makes another attempt to escape, growling, “who are you and why are you doing this, how do you even know about half of these things-”

He gets his hands ran through and pinned down fully on the ground with the knives in return.

Vlad figures he must have made some noise but the painful pressure that his assailant keeps on his back is also making it harder to breathe.

“C’mon now, you always boasted about how you’re better and more experienced in every way. Surely you can use that big brain of yours and figure this mystery out, here I’ll help-” the attacker painfully twists his head to the side, “have a look”

It’s dark and the figure is still very much in the shadows but the first thing that catches Vlad’s eyes is the mask over his assailant’s mouth that’s black on the right and orange on the left, a rather obvious hint towards ties with a certain mercenary.

The dark hair styled in that one familiar way brings someone else to mind.

“Daniel”

The boy doesn’t hesitate to twist one of the knives in his hand.

“Don’t call me that”

“Danny-” Vlad doesn’t hesitate to correct even though it does come out rather strangled because of the pain, this is a bad situation and he’s not stupid, “whatever he said-”

there is a faint crackle and it’s only through Vlad’s still slightly enhanced senses that he hears the gruff voice talking to Daniel.

“Wrap it up Memento”

Danny glances at the live feed on the tablet. Proper security is starting to swarm around.

Maddie is holding Jazz close and appears to be talking to someone in charge. One of the Wayne brood has decided to stick with her, the eldest son. How kind of him.

Vlad is still trying to get Danny to listen to him.

Danny sighs, “I kind of wish I could drag this out longer, but this is fine” he twists his knee against Vlad’s neck and now properly restrains Vlad’s legs before pulling out something new.

“This is something my dad was working on before you got him killed, I was planning on sabotaging it and getting rid of the blueprints but... things change”

Danny puts it in the middle of Vlad’s upper back, “I’m sure you’re dying to know what it does. Well, it’s the Fenton Ghost Core Crusher. A bit of a mouthful admittedly. I’m still workshopping a better name, but at the very least the purpose is obvious”

“Daniel-” Vlad is starting to sound like a parent who is realizing that their kid is about to do something dangerous and stupid. It's honestly too bad that he’s not a parent and Danny is not his kid, otherwise it might have actually had it’s intended effect.

“I would have loved to see you deal with the full aftermath and consequences of your horrible choices in life but I don’t really feel like dealing with you as a full ghost so I guess this is it, goodbye forever, it really sucked to have known you”

Vlad has a second to fully regret Deathstroke taking Daniel and not taking it as seriously as he should have and then he’s too busy feeling what must be a supernova and a blackhole manifesting in his chest at the same time somehow.

After that he hears, or perhaps he just feels… a sickening crack and everything fades away.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

There is a corpse at Danny’s feet. It’s Vlad, fully dead, the not coming back kind.

Danny figured he’d feel different, there is some vindication, and the slight satisfaction of a death avenged, but other than that he just feels rather empty, and kind of tired.

Danny doesn’t realize he’s getting a little lost in his head until Slade’s voice cuts through his mental spiral and snaps him out of it.

“Memento, time to move” 

“right”

A part of Danny wants to stay, be found. As he goes invisible and floats right through the ceiling he takes some time to fantasize about it. Would it be a bat? or perhaps one of the security guards checking the rooms, maybe it would even be one of the attendees, they would probably scream once they noticed Vlad on the ground. A security guard would be smarter about the situation, but not by much.

A bat would probably attack him once they realized Vlad was already dead.

Later on they would put a little addendum in their rogue list at Deathstroke’s name, a little side file that’s just for Danny, affiliated with Slade Wilson, name; ???, gender; male, age; somewhere between 14 and 18, threat level; capable of killing people, something like that.

A few buildings away Danny catches up with Slade on the roof.

“Did you have fun? did you get it all out of your system?” Slade folds his arms over his chest.

Danny just growls at him.

“In that case it’s time to move on” The man is already turning away.

Well, Danny can agree on that, so he follows Deathstroke away from the mess he caused at the gala and away from his mother and sister.

And here is my idea for a Deathstroke affiliated Danny

[sleepberries]

kiss you on the knee (before the bruises fade)

wayne's vetting process hit 1000 kudos (my first ever fic to do so) so here's a fic i've had written up for a while as a treat. (physical hurt/comfort, body worship, intimacy)

The mission had gone sideways in a way that only their missions could—what was supposed to be a simple surveillance operation had devolved into a confrontation with not one but three separate criminal organizations. By the time they'd finally made it back to Jason's safehouse, both of them were exhausted and nursing various injuries.

Jason had fared better than Peter, protected as he was by his armor. Peter's suit, while technologically advanced, prioritized mobility over protection. The result was Peter limping through the window, holding his side and sporting a bruise blooming across his jaw that was visible even through his mask.

"You look like hell," Jason observed, already pulling off his helmet and reaching for the first aid kit he kept fully stocked.

"You say the sweetest things," Peter quipped, wincing as he peeled off his mask. "I think the Triads and the Russians should consider couple's counseling instead of using me as their personal punching bag."

Jason's eyes narrowed as he took in the full extent of the discoloration spreading across Peter's face. "Let me see the rest."

"It's fine, just some bruising. Nothing's broken," Peter insisted, though the careful way he moved suggested otherwise.

"Parker," Jason said, using that tone that brooked no argument. "Suit. Off. Now."

Peter sighed but complied, slowly unzipping the top of his suit and gingerly pulling it down to his waist. Jason sucked in a breath at what was revealed—a patchwork of bruises in various shapes and colors decorated Peter's torso, with a particularly nasty one blooming across his ribs on the left side.

"Jesus, Pete," Jason muttered, crossing the room in three quick strides. His fingers hovered over the worst of the bruising, not quite touching. "What happened to your spider-sense?"

"Too many threats coming from too many directions," Peter explained with a half-shrug that he immediately seemed to regret. "Couldn't dodge everything."

Jason guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, then knelt in front of him to better examine the damage. Peter's skin was warm under his touch as he gently probed the edges of the largest bruise.

"Doesn't feel like the ribs are broken," Jason said after a moment. "But we should tape them to be safe."

"Told you," Peter said, attempting a smug smile that fell short due to the wince it caused. "Enhanced healing, remember? I'll be fine by morning."

Jason didn't respond immediately, too focused on cataloging each mark marring Peter's skin. A fist-sized bruise on his sternum. A scatter of smaller contusions along his right side, likely from being thrown against something. The darkening smudge across his abdomen that matched the tread of a boot.

Something cold and furious settled in Jason's gut at that last one. Someone had stomped on Peter hard enough to leave a boot print.

"You should see the other guys," Peter joked weakly, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

"I did," Jason replied, his voice low and tight. "None of them look as bad as you do."

Peter reached out, tipping Jason's chin up to meet his eyes. "Hey. I'm okay, Jay. Really."

Jason held his gaze for a long moment before nodding once, sharp and decisive. "Stay put," he ordered, rising to his feet. "I'm getting supplies."

He returned moments later with the first aid kit, ice packs, and a bottle of water. Setting everything on the nightstand, he opened the kit and began methodically laying out what he needed.

"Arms up," he instructed, unrolling an elastic bandage.

Peter complied, lifting his arms slowly, face tight with discomfort. Jason worked quickly but gently, wrapping the bandage around Peter's ribs with practiced efficiency.

"Not too tight?" he asked when he was done.

Peter took an experimental breath. "No, it's good. Thanks."

Jason nodded, then hesitated for a moment before reaching for Peter's suit again. "Let's get the rest of this off and check for more damage."

Peter raised an eyebrow but didn't protest as Jason helped him wriggle out of the lower half of the suit, leaving him in just his boxer briefs. The examination continued, Jason's hands carefully checking Peter's legs for injuries.

There were more bruises—a large one on his right thigh, another on his left hip, a scattering of smaller ones across his knees and shins. Jason's jaw tightened at each new discovery, but he said nothing, just continued his methodical inspection.

When he was satisfied that there were no serious injuries beyond the extensive bruising, Jason sat back on his heels, looking up at Peter with an expression that Peter couldn't quite interpret.

"Verdict, doc?" Peter asked lightly.

Instead of answering, Jason leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to the bruise on Peter's right knee—a feather-light touch, barely there.

Peter went very still. "Jay?"

Jason didn't respond, just moved to the next bruise on Peter's thigh, placing another soft kiss against the discolored skin. His hands came to rest on either side of Peter's knee, steadying himself as he worked his way up, lips grazing over each mark he found.

"You don't have to—" Peter began, but fell silent when Jason looked up at him, something raw and vulnerable in his eyes.

"I want to," Jason said simply, before returning to his task.

There was nothing sexual about it, despite the intimacy of the position. Rather, there was something almost reverent in the way Jason's lips brushed over each bruise—a kind of worship, an apology, a promise.

When he reached the boot print on Peter's abdomen, Jason paused, his breath warm against Peter's skin. His hands came up to frame the bruise, thumbs tracing its edges with a gentleness that made Peter's throat tight.

"I should have been there sooner," Jason murmured, so quietly Peter almost didn't hear him.

"You were exactly where you needed to be," Peter countered, one hand coming to rest on Jason's head, fingers threading through his hair. "If you hadn't taken out their reinforcements, we both would have been a lot worse off."

Jason didn't look convinced, but he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the center of the boot print, lingering there as if he could somehow take the pain into himself. Peter felt something in his chest flutter at the gesture.

"You're remarkable," Jason said against his skin, the words vibrating through Peter's body. "So damn strong, but you don't have to be all the time. Not with me."

Peter swallowed hard, emotion welling up unexpectedly. "I know."

Jason continued his journey upward, lips ghosting over the bruises along Peter's side, across his ribs, up to his chest. With each kiss, he murmured something—words of praise, of admiration, sometimes just Peter's name.

"Beautiful," he whispered against a particularly dark bruise on Peter's collarbone. "Brave," against another on his shoulder. "Mine," against the one on his jaw.

By the time Jason had kissed every visible bruise, Peter's eyes were suspiciously bright, and his hands were trembling slightly where they rested on Jason's shoulders.

"Finished?" he asked, aiming for light and missing by a mile, his voice rough with emotion.

Jason shook his head, rising from his knees to sit beside Peter on the bed. "Missed one," he said, gently turning Peter's face to press a final, tender kiss to the bruise on his jaw.

When he pulled back, he kept his hand on Peter's face, thumb stroking along his cheekbone. "You scared the hell out of me today."

Peter leaned into the touch. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for doing your job," Jason said firmly. "Just... be more careful."

"Says the guy who once jumped off a building because he ran out of bullets and decided grappling onto a moving helicopter was the next best option," Peter retorted, though there was no heat in it.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Jason's mouth. "That was different."

"How?"

"It wasn't you," Jason said simply.

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Peter blinked, momentarily speechless, before a slow smile spread across his face despite the pain it caused.

"Jason Todd," he said, "are you saying you can do reckless things but I can't because you worry about me more than yourself?"

Jason's expression turned defensive. "That's not—"

"Because that's exactly what it sounds like," Peter continued, his smile widening. "That's actually incredibly sweet in a totally messed-up, hypocritical way."

"I'm not sweet," Jason muttered, though he didn't move his hand from Peter's face. "I just don't like seeing you hurt."

"And yet you spent the last ten minutes paying very close attention to all my injuries," Peter pointed out.

"That's different," Jason insisted.

"How?"

"Because," Jason hesitated, clearly struggling to articulate something that wasn't easy for him to put into words. "Because you're alive. Because these are just bruises, not... worse. Because every mark on you is a reminder that you're still here, still breathing."

The amusement faded from Peter's expression, replaced by understanding. He knew about Jason's history, about his death and resurrection, about the scars that went much deeper than skin.

"Come here," Peter said softly, tugging Jason closer until their foreheads touched. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You can't promise that," Jason replied, his voice rough. "Neither of us can."

"No," Peter agreed, "we can't. But I can promise that I will always do everything in my power to come back to you."

Jason closed his eyes briefly, his hand tightening almost imperceptibly where it rested against Peter's neck. "Good enough, I guess."

Peter smiled, pressing a quick kiss to Jason's lips. "Now, if you're done with your very thorough examination, I could really use a shower and about twelve hours of sleep."

Jason pulled back, reluctance clear in his movements. "Shower, yes. Then I need to check those ribs again and rewrap them."

"So bossy," Peter teased, though he didn't object when Jason helped him to his feet. "Will there be more kisses after?"

"Only if you behave yourself," Jason replied, but the look in his eyes promised that there absolutely would be, regardless.

Peter grinned, wincing only slightly at the pull on his bruised jaw. "I'll try, but no promises. You know how I am when you get all protective and caring."

Jason rolled his eyes, but Peter didn't miss the way his expression softened, the way his hands were gentle as they guided him toward the bathroom. "Yeah, I know exactly how you are. A complete disaster with no self-preservation instincts."

"But I'm your disaster," Peter pointed out cheerfully.

"God help me," Jason muttered, but he was smiling now, the tension from earlier easing from his shoulders. "Yes, you are."

Later, after Peter had showered and Jason had checked and rewrapped his ribs with careful, methodical movements, they lay together in Jason's bed. Peter was tucked against Jason's side, head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"Thank you," Peter said quietly into the darkness. "For taking care of me. For the kisses."

Jason's hand, which had been absently stroking through Peter's hair, paused briefly before resuming its motion. "Anytime," he replied, equally soft.

And as Peter drifted toward sleep, body aching but heart full, he found himself thinking that while the bruises would fade by morning—another benefit of enhanced healing—the memory of Jason's lips against his skin, reverent and tender, would stay with him much, much longer.

[mythtakens]

I haven’t said a lot about or reblogged anything really about Bobby Dying because. well I still don’t think he’s permanently dead and so I can’t really act like he is. but in the event it turns out he is in fact permanently dead forever and ever never to return alive and a decision was made that is actually that stupid and it was done in this really weird baffling way obviously my feelings on the whole matter will be completely different and I would be forced to process in a very different way. Bobby is my favorite and I still didn’t have a ~normal reaction to an emotional devastating scene because they loudly spoiled the end point weeks ago and took out all the tension of the arc. either way that messed with the viewing experience, but I would like to believe that they at least did that with a goal in mind and that it is not somehow truly just a result of incompetence concerning the biggest spoiler in the entire show. and oh we just crossed our fingers while clearly labeling the whole thing? yeah that doesn’t make sense to me.

my thing is I can deal with being messed with. I don’t love it, I don’t appreciate it, but I can deal with it! I understand and respect the people who feel done with the show regardless because it is a really careless thing to do to a dedicated audience. but well if I know anything about showrunners who think they’re clever it’s that they’re always mainly thinking of the end goal where they imagine everyone is patting them on the back for pulling it off. I just don’t see how in this instance for real killing a beloved character in a way where nobody he loves that is a paramedic or an EMT or his wife can get to him or touch him to confirm he is actually dead. on a show where people survive the most insane things time after time. fits into that type of smug narcissism. and you do it in a way that isn’t visibly permanent and you have cast members sowing doubt about it being so? personally I can get over stupid silly convoluted circumstances if they don’t actually have fatal consequences. this show is built on wild wacky circumstances but it’s also built on surviving them despite everything.

like to me it’s really not about “can showrunners/writers be this stupid”. they can they have they will continue to be. but like call it denial or delusion or whatever you want I just can’t watch everyone everywhere say it’s a bad decision nobody wanted and buy into that there was any sort of remotely willing consensus on Bobby being dead for real and everyone being really really sad but moving on eventually and it hanging over everything forever being better crazy tv than like. everyone going through that loss and still having those feelings of devastation and anger and helplessness and regret and then having the wildly complicated experience of being able to direct them at the actual guy and say all the things you wanted to say. like okay I am in my imagination here but you’re telling me real dead Bobby is better tv than like, Peter Krause gasping awake inside his own coffin after it passes through the Hall of Crucifixion-Resurrection? better than him calling 911 and Maddie answering and him saying I’m being buried alive? better than the signal being lost but her trying to call back and the absolute shock of realizing whose number it is? better than the tension of the dirt being dumped over a coffin Bobby is alive in?? better than Maddie racing to reach people who are probably not concerned with answering their phones right now because they’re standing around a grave?? better than maybe Bobby trying to call Athena and if it manages to connect seeing a missed call and then 911 calling her right after? better than a scene of Angela Bassett eating everyone up and making everyone think Athena has lost it demanding they dig up her freshly buried husband?????? better than his family jumping into action when they realize what’s happening to pull him back out of the earth after struggling to let him go??? real forever dead Bobby that everyone is really sad about is better tv than that and something to feel more smug and clever about?????????? well I don’t think so! but it’s not my circus.

[directdogman]

random DSaF thing I'm not sure if people picked up on.

Something significant about the DSaF 3 phones that popped into my head while I was writing the last post comparing Peter's DSaF 2 and DT incarnations that I didn't bother mentioning bc it was long enough

Harry and Jake are actually parallels to Steven + Peter respectively with a few major differences applied. (warning a LOT of text:)

Both Harry + Steven are generation 1 phones. They're both shown to be fairly by the book and are able to completely turn off their empathy when situations call for it. Both are completely disconnected from their former identities in a way that the other phones aren't. To further cement this connection, Harry is even shown to be the one that sent Steven to the factory. If an employee dies in your restaurant, Harry's response to it is pretty much what Steven's would've been.

Ultimately, he is a company man, like Steven. Just like Steven trying to save himself by any means necessary in DSaF 1, his confrontation in DSaF 3's evil route specifically talks about how much you've cost him and while he clearly feels disgust with you, he more so drills the futility and sheer callousness of what you're doing in rather than really tries to make you feel bad for the bad things you do. He speaks to you like you're more of a failure than anything else. You're not HIS employee, but as the former head of the franchise, speaking to the person who just killed it for the final time. He focuses on what you specifically took away from him, turning the conversation back to himself. His final words are a cold goodbye. His response to your actions is close to what Steven's could've been in this situation.

Ultimately, he's even more of an insider than Steven and someone with more of a direct connection to the cycle of misery that occurred at Freddy's. Basically, several of Steven's defining qualities are amped up in different ways.

Peter on the other hand, is not a company man. He's a gen 2 phoney, more in touch with his personal identity and in the good ending of 2, even escapes in order to reunite with his old lost family. He's generally a chiller boss than Steven, clearly caring more about the well-being of staff/customers than making the company happy.

Jake, similarly, also is in touch with his personal identity. Like Peter, he escaped in order to find his family, but as his backstory scene in 3 points out, this didn't go to plan. Jake, on the surface, seems like a polar opposite to Peter in how overtly cynical he is, a word he deliberately uses to describe himself in his DSaF 3 callout. However, this actually masks something that's more evident if you listen to him in certain key scenes.

Jake cares about others. A LOT. I based his characterization on a George Carlin quote: 'Scratch [the surface of] a cynic and you'll find a disappointed idealist'. It shows what Peter could've been if he'd never reconnected with his family or been able to correct any of the ills he came across. Someone who was worn down by life and put up walls as a result. But, the underlying care is still there and affects his decisions/words at key moments.

If you read his equivalent callout in 3 very carefully, there's some pretty strong parallels to Peter's callout in 2. He notably drills home the fact that you abused the trust of customers so you could feed like a monster. He mentions having higher hopes for you, hoping you were going to be someone better. Even after all Jack's done, he still expresses shock that he feels no remorse at all. His scene ends with a much harsher line, commanding Jack to never contact him again, akin to Peter's closing line in the equivalent 2 scene.

Also, notably, he breaks the no cursing Phone Guy rule in the scene. His reaction if an employee gets springlocked at your location is also noticeably more Peter-esque, remembering what he went through and not wanting another person to turn out the same, in contrast to Harry deciding to just go by the book, a decision that directly led to the creation of Steven pre-DSaF 1.

Okay, that's about it. I bet there's people out there who caught this (knowing me, I've said all of this before and forgot about it) but I figured a few people might find it interesting regardless. thanks, everyone!

[vroomvro0mferrari]

CL16 | Strategy to Your Heart

Summary: Ferrari hasn’t been doing well in the races lately, and according to Charles, there's only one person to blame for the bad strategies: you.

Charles Leclerc x colleague!Reader (enemies to lovers)

WC: 4.3K

Warnings: curse words, slightly misogynistic

Masterlist

Charles stormed into the garage, his eyes blazing with anger. His race had ended disastrously, again, and there was only one person to blame. As his race engineer, you were responsible for his strategy, which lately, had been lacking significantly and he despised you for it. The car was finally improving, yet he couldn’t seem to win a race. Simply because his race engineer managed to fuck up every time.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. “Are you trying to sabotage me?”

You looked up in surprise as he approached you. Charles' anger was clear as day as he got in your face, making your hands shake from anxiety and your blood run cold. Your expression hardened as the accusation settled, a glare replacing the shock in your eyes. You opened your mouth to explain, to say something – to calm him down, but he cut you off. 

“I don’t need your excuses! You clearly don’t know what you’re doing!” He yelled. The look on his face, and the posture of his body – which was much taller than yours – were intimidating. Never mind his unrelenting glare and the finger he pointed in your face before storming off to his driver's room.

His insult stung deeply. You understood that he was upset at how the race went, but he could’ve reacted differently. He just humiliated you publicly, in front of all your colleagues; he didn’t even let you get a word in edgewise. You could feel the anger bubbling up inside you at his behaviour. How dare he insult you like that? It wasn’t even your fault. You stared after him as he stomped away, before turning on your feet, storming off in the opposite direction.

You had known Charles for a long time now. Although you had never spoken much, you always greeted each other, until you got your new position in the team. Charles was already driving for Ferrari when you first started there as an intern. You joined in on meetings with the drivers and sometimes spoke to them during these, but you didn’t see the drivers much otherwise. After your time as an intern, you had gotten a full-time job and worked your way up the team, and now, finally, you had made it to race strategist for Charles Leclerc, where your decisions actually had an effect – or so you thought.

During all your years at Ferrari, the previous head of strategy, Rueda, always listened to and appreciated your opinions and suggestions for the race strategies. He supported your development over the years and saw you grow from an inexperienced intern to an expert with a unique view. Before he left Ferrari, he promoted you to Charles’ race engineer; he believed in your skill and thought you could provide unexpected, but well-working strategies that would lead Charles to victories. 

However, after Rueda left, and Ravin Jain took over the job of head strategist, your opinions were ignored. You worked especially hard to convince him you deserved your current position. You developed numerous possible strategies for every one of Charles’ races, running tons of simulations to make sure you had a strategy for every situation. You thought about all the unexpected circumstances that might arise and how to maximise the outcome for each of them. You knew exactly what to do in every situation to ensure a good ending position for Charles, but Jain undermined you every single time. You would present him with all the information you had collected, and show him all the possible strategies and which ones you expected would work best, but he would never listen to you. Jain would always overrule your decisions with different options that somehow turned out much worse. As a result, Charles lost so many more places than necessary, and missed so many more podiums – wins even – than he should’ve.

The worst part was that Charles blamed you for everything. You were new in the position of race strategist, and you wanted to leave a good impression on the team and, most importantly, have a good working relationship with Charles. In your line of work, teamwork and cooperation, and consequently trust, are incredibly important. You wanted Charles to You wanted Charles to rely on you for strategy, allowing him to focus solely on driving. But he couldn’t. He questioned every advice you gave – whether it made sense – and more often than not, it didn’t. The relationship between the two of you was anything but one of trust.

Charles didn’t know what was happening between you and the head strategist. All he knew was that the strategies were awful and he was losing races that he could have won. He didn’t know how amazing and thought-out your own strategies really were, and how good you were at your job if you actually received the opportunity to do it. As a matter of fact, he had never had a real conversation with you before you got your new role. Previously, you just hung around in the background, only speaking with your team and some work friends you had made along the way, but never directly with the drivers. Quite frankly, he questioned whether you were even qualified for your job.

Although Charles didn’t know much about you, his opinion about you was formed and unchanging. To him, it seemed you didn’t know much about racing strategies or engineering; the results of your strategies and your silence during the debriefs were enough proof for him. There was only one logical explanation for how you’d gotten your role in the team; you had gotten your position through favouritism – or perhaps you’d done the head strategist a little ‘favour’.

– – – – –

During the next race, Jain had done it again. You had developed the perfect strategy for Charles, you had worked everything out so you were prepared for every situation. But when you showed the results to Jain and suggested your preferred strategy, he told you that your strategies could be better and you should ‘try this’. You knew it wasn’t a suggestion but an order to drop your strategy and use his instead. The result left you feeling defeated. Charles would undoubtedly be upset with the outcome, outing his anger on you, while you couldn’t do anything to make it better.

From your spot in the garage after the race, you could already see him stomping towards you. You couldn’t blame him really, he had missed out on yet another podium due to a bad strategy.

“What now?” you muttered under your breath as you saw him approach, bracing yourself for another confrontation.

“What now?” Charles echoed, his tone mocking. “You’re asking me that? You couldn’t form a proper strategy to save your life! How did you get this job in the first place? Sleep with the boss?”

You whipped your head around at his comment, narrowing your eyes as shock and anger coursed through your body. You had heard comments like this many times before; Formula 1 is a man’s world and you know what the men around you are like. You know you shouldn’t have expected anything less from Charles, yet you had. You were surprised that Charles would say something like this—something so vile. Yes, you had never really gotten along, but there had always been mutual respect. In all your interactions with Charles, he seemed kind enough, even if he was frustrated with you; to make such a misogynistic comment was a new low for him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? How can you even say something like that? Do you know how offensive that is?”

“You’re not denying it,” he yelled back at you.

You scoffed. “I’m not doing this,” you said, shaking your head before walking away, the tears welling up in your eyes. It felt like a betrayal. 

Charles followed you, “How about you explain why you keep screwing up my races?”

You ran your hands over your face in frustration as you rushed away from him, quickly making your way to your office. Charles had already upset you, and you didn’t want to cry in front of him – your job was already hard enough without him holding something like this over your head. If your colleagues found out you had cried on the job, you would never hear the end of how women can’t handle the pressure of F1. You tried to close the door as soon as you entered your office, but Charles was already there with you, staring you down. His arms were crossed in a nonchalant manner, but his face showed his annoyance clearly. “Well?”

You tried to avoid answering his question, but it seemed impossible. Even though you had kept silent (except for your scoff, that is), he wouldn’t leave you alone. God was this man frustrating. Your patience snapped.

“I’m not the one screwing up your races, Charles. If you have any issues with the strategies you should take it up with Jain, because he changes my plans every time.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, frowning.

“Every strategy I create, Jain overrules,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you closed in on him. “I come up with plans based on simulations, and data. I’m ready for every scenario. But he dismisses them and forces his own strategies, which obviously don’t work. You’re blaming the wrong person.”

Charles stared at you, the anger in his eyes slowly giving way to confusion. “What? Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“I tried,” you replied, frustration seeping into your voice. “But you were too busy yelling at me to listen. And honestly, I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly processing what you had said. “So, Jain is the one messing up the strategies?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “And it’s been incredibly frustrating to watch my hard work get thrown out and to then take the blame when it fails.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be. You’ve been yelling at me for months when it wasn’t even my fault.”

“Why didn’t you do anything about it?” Charles asked.

You laughed at his question. “What was I supposed to do? You know how it is—actually, you don’t, because drivers are privileged,” you sighed at the frown on Charles’ face, “no one would have believed me if I had told them, or they probably would have agreed. And if I had gone against Jain, I would have been fired so fast,” you trailed off.

Charles sighed. You were right; how on earth were they supposed to fix this? Jain would just continue to override your decisions no matter what, and that obviously wasn’t beneficial to anyone.

“For the next race, show me your strategy, okay? We can look at it together and if I agree we can work something out. Together.”

You smiled dryly at Charles’ suggestion. If he agrees? Who does he think he is? Nevertheless, you concur, if only to get rid of him. It doesn’t sound very convincing, but Charles is satisfied nonetheless.

– – – – –

For the next race, you had prepared more than usual. After the first few encounters with Jain you had given up on preparing your races thoroughly; it felt like a waste of time. But knowing that Charles would listen to you, and you might finally get to use your own strategy motivated you. 

You carefully discussed your plans with Charles in his driver’s room, away from everyone else. He listened attentively while you explained all the possible strategies and the one you thought would yield the best results. This was the first time Charles actually heard you talk about the strategies with enthusiasm, and he admired your knowledge of the topic, although he was somewhat surprised after your previous interactions. Hearing your passion for your work and knowing that you weren’t the reason for the unsuccessful races finally allowed the much-wanted bond of trust to form.

“We're going to use your strategy,” Charles said decisively. “No matter what Jain says, we'll do whatever you think is best. You've thought everything out, it'd be foolish to do something entirely different.”

"And if Jain gets mad and wants to fire me?" You asked, a hint of concern in your voice.

"The results will likely be good, so there'll be no reason for him to get mad,” Charles replied confidently. “But if he does, I'll vouch for you."

You nodded in response, a nervous but grateful smile on your face. It was exciting to finally use one of your own strategies, even though Jain would probably reject your proposals again.

Your assumption was correct; during your meeting with Jain, he had once more told you to follow his strategies instead of using your own ideas. Although Charles had told you there wouldn’t be any reason for your boss to get mad if the race went well, you weren’t assured enough to follow his advice. You couldn’t take any risks with your job – you weren’t experienced enough to get a similar job anywhere else, especially with the reputation Jain had built for you. If you had to follow his strategy to keep your job you would.

To say Charles was upset with the strategy during the race would be an understatement. He didn’t know where it had gone wrong – you had discussed this, hadn’t you? You came to the agreement that you would use your own strategy instead of listening to Jain, yet you hadn’t. The things you were telling him to do were nothing you had discussed during your private meeting. Charles felt frustrated at your inability to follow through; you were ruining his chances of a win because you were a coward who wouldn’t dare to stand up to her boss and he wasn’t going to take it.

“Boxing next lap, Charles.” 

Charles scoffed at your order before responding, “Box now? That’s ridiculous! The tyres are feeling fine, I can stay out longer.”

You sigh from your position on the pit wall. “Charles, the team thinks it’s best that you–” 

“I don’t care what the team thinks! What do you think is the best move?”

“Charles–” you stammer, getting nervous from his reaction.

“You know the team always makes the wrong calls, Y/N. What do you think we should do?”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the decision. If you go against Jain’s orders now and the race ends badly, you’ll be in big trouble. Charles said he’d vouch for you though, and the current strategy wasn’t going to get the team anywhere good either. You contemplate your options.

“Stay out a few more laps.”

Although you couldn’t see it, Charles smiled triumphantly in the car, knowing he had convinced you to use your own strategy. This was a good start, he just needed to do well now, to make sure you got your confidence back. So, for the next races, you would follow your own strategies as well instead of simply following Jain’s orders.

The race had ended up much better than anybody had expected, all thanks to your strategy. If you hadn’t switched up the strategy, Charles would have ended up significantly lower in the ranking. After finishing up his duties, Charles sought you out in the garage. You thought he would yell at you again, for going against your plan – going rogue, but he didn’t.  

“Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere. “Your strategy worked. Next time, we’ll use your plan again. From the start this time, forget whatever Jain tells you.” 

You nodded in response, a tight smile on your face. It was nice that Charles showed his appreciation for you. However, now that you were standing still instead of moving around, you were easier to spot. So far, you had managed to avoid Jain by blending in with the bustling garage, but Charles’s presence made you easy to find.

“Y/N!” Jain said loudly, making your eyes shoot over to him quickly.

“We need to have a serious talk! Follow me to my office.” The look on his face was scolding and his body posture showed his anger clearly as he walked off. 

You met Charles’ eyes for a second, a nervous smile on your face. “I better go,” you said before rushing after your boss. 

“I’ll come with you,” Charles responded firmly, joining your side.

“I said I’d vouch for you if Jain became angry. I always keep my word,” he said after seeing the confused look on your face.

Jain had already taken a seat in his office when you walked in.

“What the hell were you thinking? Ignoring my strategy?” he hollered.

You took a deep breath, mustering the courage to go against him, but Charles beat you to it, stepping out from behind the door.

“There’s no need to yell at your employee like that, Jain. Besides, her strategy led to much better results than boxing would have.”

Jain’s eyes quickly darted over to him in surprise, having missed his presence, before focusing on you. “You’re here to follow orders, Y/N. Not to make your own decisions. You disobeyed a direct instruction.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Charles had already started speaking, his voice steady but firm. 

“With all due respect, Jain, it’s clear that Y/N’s strategy was superior today. Her approach brought us better results, and we need to recognise that.”

Jain turned his glare to Charles, clearly not pleased with the driver’s intervention. “This is none of your business, Charles. She’s my employee, and she needs to follow my orders.”

“Actually, it is my business,” Charles shot back.

Your eyes darted over to him. This was not at all the right time, but he looked hot as fuck defending you like this. He hadn’t even had the time to change after the race, his driver’s suit hanging around his waist with his black fireproofs on full display. His hair was messy and his cheeks were flushed, whether it was from the race or frustration, you weren’t sure. You could feel your own cheeks turning hot at the sight, and you were certain a blush was spreading across your face, too.

“Her strategies directly affect my performance on the track. Today, she proved her worth. She deserves the chance to implement her plans without being overruled.”

The room fell silent as Jain stared at Charles, his anger simmering beneath the surface. 

No, not the right time at all.

Jain finally sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. You’ve made your point. But if it fails there will be consequences.”

You nodded eagerly, “of course.”

Charles nodded as well, happy with the outcome.

– – – – –

The next few races turned out much better. Without interference, you could confidently present and implement your strategies. And the results spoke for themselves: Charles consistently finished on the podium. His performance improved so much that even Jain had to admit your strategies worked better than his.

When the next race weekend arrived tensions were high. So far, your racing strategies had proved successful, but you aimed for more every race. It was certainly helpful that you and Charles were a good team. Ever since the issues between Charles and you were resolved, there was mutual trust, and Charles supported every strategy you came up with, even if it seemed risky.

You wished Charles good luck with a nervous smile before he got in his car and, as had become a ritual, he responded confidently with a “we’ve got this” and a reassuring smile that somehow always calmed your nerves.

When the race began you confidently pursued your strategy while Charles navigated the track with precision. Everything went perfectly: the pit stops as swift and smooth as could be and every decision moving Charles closer to the front.

There were only a few laps to go with Charles steadily in second place, closing in on the leader. He managed to get within DRS range and, as the team watched in anticipation, executed a flawless overtake, taking the lead in the race. The garage filled with cheers and applause as the team celebrated his amazing overtake. Meanwhile, a big smile overtook your features as you watched Charles drive on the screen in front of you. 

You stared in disbelief when Charles crossed the finish line in first place. The joy was immense; the whole garage was celebrating the fresh win as you hugged the rest of the team on the pit wall in delight. You had done it – your strategy had led him to a win.

Following your colleagues, you rushed to the parc fermé, wanting to be the first to celebrate this amazing race with him. You watched as Charles got out of his car, pumping his fist in the air in victory. The smile on his face was huge as he jogged to the team waiting to congratulate him. 

“We did it, Y/N!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a celebratory hug. You laughed at his antics but hugged him back nevertheless. If there wasn’t a barrier between you, he would have lifted you up and spun you around, that’s how happy he was. Two months ago he couldn’t have envisioned a win any time soon, and now he had managed to snatch up the first place, all thanks to you.

After his weigh-in, he walked back to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I want you to come up on the podium with me,” he said. 

“Ah,” he tutted, already knowing you would protest before you even opened your mouth, “it’s just as much your win as it’s mine.”

“Charles…”

“You deserve to be up there too! It’s your first win!”

You stared at him hesitantly.

“Come on, Y/N. Just this once. If you say no, I’ll just ask again next time, and the time after that, and—”

“Next time?”

“Yes. We’re obviously going to win many more races together!” Charles said with a childish grin. “Come on!” He continued, tugging on your sleeve.

You finally succumbed, nodding your head. “Okay, fine.”

“Ah perfect! I’ll see you up there!” He said with a big grin, before walking off to do his interview.

You used the time Charles was in the cooldown room to mentally prepare yourself. You were about to stand on the podium. Your face was going to be broadcast on live TV for everyone to see, and it made you nervous. You smiled nervously at the people guiding you up the stairs to the podium where you met Charles. He smiled comfortingly and chatted with you relaxedly while you waited for his name to be called out. 

When the time came, you tried to stay in the background, hiding behind Charles who walked out in front of you before taking your place on the separate podium for the winning constructor. From your position, you could see the crowd cheering for Charles while the Monegasque anthem sounded over the track. You admired the sea of red that was here for Ferrari, for Charles. When the Italian anthem played you made eye contact with Charles, laughing silently with him over your colleagues singing along loudly.

You gracefully accepted the trophy for the team, smiling and lifting it up after it was offered to you. The sound of your team cheering and applauding filled you with joy. You couldn’t be prouder of Charles for this achievement, and maybe of yourself too, especially when you saw the admiring look Charles was sending you. It made your thoughts hazy, tuning out for a second as you enjoyed this moment of glory while staring out at the crowd in front of you.

Then, suddenly, you heard the pops of bottles. You could barely set down your trophy before your face was covered in champagne.

“Charles,” You gasped. 

Barely able to breathe, you tried to cover your face with your cap. It was no use, however; the champagne was already pricking in your eyes as you blindly tried to push Charles away. When the other men on the podium targeted him, you used the moment to pop your own bottle of champagne. Of course, your goal was to completely douse Charles as payback, but he was quick to flee. Before you got the chance to properly drench him, it was already time for the podium picture. Charles grinned at you mischievously from his spot next to you. “You look good in victory champagne,” he teased. 

You glared at him jokingly. You were certain that you looked ridiculous with your cap askew and your clothes completely soaked in champagne, not to mention the mascara that was probably running down your face. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

“Thanks, I think.”

He laughed with you, a gleeful look on his face. 

“How about we go out for a celebratory drink?” He asked with a gentle smile.

You noticed the more serious tone in his voice straight away. His expression was one you didn’t recognise; he seemed almost insecure.

Raising an eyebrow, you couldn’t resist teasing him. 

“Are you asking me out, Charles?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Well, yeah. I guess I am. What do you say?”

You laughed again, before nodding your head. 

“A drink sounds good.”

[fairyminnie444]

𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥.

Reality always bends to your will when you take absolute command over your perception and inner state. Everything already exists, and what you experience is merely a reflection of what you have accepted as truth.

Inspired by Nero Knowledge’s blog, I created a small training to master reality, easily and practical. No more excuses, no more postponements, no more "buts" and "ifs". Now is the time to act as the god of your own reality, let's go:

⊹₊ ⋆ 1. Creating Absolute Inner Reality ⊹₊ ⋆

You must decide that your desired reality is the only truth that exists. No matter what is happening outside, it is not real to you. What is real is only what you have already decided is.

❤︎ Instead of “fighting” the current reality, do not give attention for what doesn’t align.

❤︎ If something seems “contrary,” simply ignore it. (If you can't ignore it, think and know definitively "what's happening here doesn't change the fact that I already have what I want." It's done.)

❤︎ Practice selective blindness: focus only on what reinforces your success.

⊹₊ ⋆ 2. Reality Distortion - Total Control of the Environment ⊹₊ ⋆

❤︎ Train your perception to see only evidence of your desired reality.

❤︎ Manipulate 3D through the absolute certainty that everything is molding itself to you.

❤︎ The focus is on not getting emotionally involved with passing circumstances.

⊹₊ ⋆ 3. Using “I AM” Fluently ⊹₊ ⋆

❤︎ Think of I AM as an absolute truth, not as something you need to affirm all the time.

❤︎ If a thought of scarcity arises, simply correct it without drama:

❤︎ Examples:

“What if no money comes?” → “Money always comes anyway.”

“sp: what if he doesn't call me?” → “he has no choice but to call me.”

“appearance: what if I look in the mirror and don't see this?” → “I am already this the moment I imagine myself like this and decide.”

❤︎ Your I AM needs to be the automatic response to any doubt.

❤︎ Understanding that I AM is the activation of instant reality.

❤︎ Using I AM with conviction to consolidate your identity and generate visible results.

❤︎ Applying the “Reality Leap”: acting and feeling as if you were already in the desired position.

⊹₊ ⋆ 4. Shielding Yourself Against the Fear of Failure ⊹₊ ⋆

❤︎ When your identity is solid, there is no wrong decision.

❤︎ Even if a path seems “uncertain,” it always leads to your success.

❤︎ Everything you do accelerates your ascent because you are already at the top.

❤︎ Enter a state of mind where there is no possibility of failure. Cause there isn’t.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ ⋅ ˚✮ Some important observations:

Your perception shapes your reality. If you see lack, it is lack. If you see your desire already fulfilled, it is already done.

The training is to strengthen you, not to imprison you. You do not need to fight against your emotions or bad feelings if you have them. Feel them, but do not identify with them. They do not define you or your reality.

The secret is to integrate the “I AM” automatically.

Example of Integration:

❤︎ Are you in the shower? “I AM a (insert your desire here)”

❤︎ Are you eating? “My success is natural.”

❤︎ Going to sleep? “My reality is already done.”

You do not need to feel a great emotional impact with each repetition. The goal is to make this normal.

If any negative thought arises now or during the day, stop immediately and replace it with a powerful “I AM.”

Practical example:

❌ “But what if it takes a while?” → “I AM living proof that everything happens in my time, and my time is NOW.”

❌ “What if I don’t have enough money today?” → “I AM a wealth magnet and I get paid in all forms, from all directions.”

❌ “What if I have to work harder than I want?” → “I AM so valuable that everything comes to me effortlessly.”

Reality does not respond to what you want, but to what you ARE. Be now, without waiting for external proof.

3D reality is just a mirror of what you have already assumed internally. You don’t need to fix the mirror, you need to change what it reflects.

Don’t seek proof, be the proof.

You don’t wait, you DECIDE.

When you hold this stance, reality has no choice but to bend to your will.