#you might have noticed i'm calling it the american name this time

[autistickaitovocaloid]

Finished this game like a minute ago

[slyandthefamilybook]

so this is something that's been on my mind for a while. I wish I could make a big magnum opus post on it but I don't have the energy

I've noticed in my travels that antisemitism seems to be one of the only forms of bigotry that's not self-evidently wrong. People may think they think it is, but I don't think they do. Every time antisemitism comes up as a topic, I see Jews sharing posts with twin explanations: one on why something is antisemitic, and one on why that's a bad thing

I've seen this a lot, and have fallen into it myself, although recently I've been trying to stop. On a post about Bibi changing his last name to "sound more indigenous": "Imagine if someone said this about Black people". On a post blaming Jews for what Israel does: "Imagine if someone said this about Chinese people". On a post accusing Jews of owning too many industries: "Imagine if someone said this about Asian people".

There was a post that went around claiming the IDF harvested the organs of Palestinians with very little evidence. (There are some great posts debunking that but that's not what this post is about.) I remember looking through the comments and one of them stuck out to me. I can't remember the wording exactly, but it went something like: "Israel heard about blood libel and thought why don't we just do that?". Ignoring the fact that blood libel is about the accuser, not the accused, this comment played over and over in my head. I thought about it as I went to sleep that night. Here was a person admitting that the thing they were saying has a strong resemblance to blood libel, but saying it anyway. It struck me that the underlying thought here was "it's not blood libel if it's true".

Once I realized that, I was stunned. I suddenly heard right-wingers in my head saying "it's not racist, it's just a fact that on average Black people have a lower I.Q.". And suddenly everything clicked into place. I know it might seem like an elementary idea, but it genuinely had never occurred to me

In the eyes of bigots, racism protects power. Antisemitism protects truth.

I've often said that all conspiracy theories eventually lead back to the Jews, and this newfound realization fit in nicely. A popular neo-Nazi slogan I've seen recently is "the goyim know". This idea that Jews have something to hide has saturated the political spectrum

Antisemitism is itself a conspiracy theory.

I realize that makes it sound like I don't think antisemitism is real. That's not what I'm saying, it absolutely is. But the way people talk about it is unlike how they talk about any other form of racism. The Jews are a shadowy cabal, who meet in secret to deplatform people who dare speak out against them. This is something we see on the right and the left, from Kanye accusing the Jews of destroying his career, to leftists accusing the "Zionists" of controlling social media.

Spouting antisemitism now becomes a moral good, a political necessity. It's the most important thing in the fight for truth

I understood then, why people on the left are so comfortable calling out accusations of antisemitism as "frivolous", "unserious", "over-used". How they think people are using antisemitism to silence them. You can't just say something is antisemitic and walk away. It won't stick. You also have to sit there on your computer for the next 2 hours, looking up sources to debunk their claims. You have to appeal to the truth. With any other form of bigotry, it's understood by leftists that whatever the facts may be, they don't excuse racism. The number of Black Americans who commit crimes doesn't justify saying Black people are all criminals. The number of First Nations people who own casinos doesn't justify playing off that stereotype. But when it comes to the Jews, it's open season. You can say anything you like about the Jews, as long as you think it's true. Being told that it's antisemitic isn't enough.

This is a great example of just that. "Yes it's antisemitic, but it's also true." The accusation of antisemitism becomes an accusation against the truth. So when it comes to people who really believe in what they're saying, it all just bounces off. This is why people never seem to learn. They hop from conspiracy theory to conspiracy theory. As long as someone assures them it's all true, the bigotry doesn't really factor. They apologize not when confronted with their own racism, but when confronted with the facts.

In this way, antisemitism has become baked into society, especially Christian societies. Because why wouldn't it? Yes, the Jew is greedy, yes the Jew is sneaky, yes the Jew is bloodthirsty. But the Jew is above all a liar. They lie about their names, their culture, their history, their victories, their defeats

I wish I knew how to end this post. Some sort of call to action, some idea of how to fix this going forward. But I have no idea. I suspect if I did, we might not all be quite where we are right now

[shotmrmiller]

cbf!Price?!?!

You mean your older brother's even older friend?

You'd been born in the US to an American mom and a British dad; but his job moved you all back across the pond. New country, new school, new people--it had been hell for you and your brother. But the family next door were so welcoming, especially their only kid, John.

Who always called you 'sunshine', gave you piggyback rides at rugby matches so you didn't get lost in the crowd, and never said "Hello" but, "There's my favorite girl".

The same cbf!Price who was your scary dog privilege when you fell in love with the underground punk scene and wanted to go to the sketchiest concerts.

When he'd enlisted, you'd cried for days, but couldn't bring yourself to tell him why you were so heartbroken, no matter how many times he asked, brows furrowed with concern. "Its only a couple months, luv, then I'll be on post just down the road. We'll still have our weekends."

And he kept that promise, as much as he could, even after you moved out of your parent's home to attend university.

It was forever on the tip of your tongue; the words you so desperately wanted to say, had to bite back, otherwise they'd destroy that precious friendship....

.... I can only imagine the myriad of unfortunate ways he might accidentally hear you whispering his name and those words....

with my brash personality, im fucking him the day he's to leave for basic. js.

no regrets around here.

--

ohmygod! imagine him being captain now, and he brings you to meet the boys.

Johnny whistles low the moment he lays eyes on you. "Steamin' Jesus, Captain. Tha' yer friend? She single?"

John does not answer him.

Kyle is kind, sweet, and courteous. Suspiciously so. It gives John flashbacks of how he acts towards women he wants to bed.

Right.

Simon's just his big, quiet self. He's intimidating, but you're not afraid—after all, you grew up with your bully older brother and John.

John notices his eyes gleam when you talk at him, yes, at, because Simon doesn't respond. But he listens. And he's been listening a little too intently, staring at your dainty hands gesture animatedly.

That's enough, he thinks.

"Time t'go home, love." You pout but wave goodbye at the boys and head towards his vehicle.

Johnny opens his mouth to speak but John quickly intervenes, that unless he wants to start fucking pushing, keep his thoughts to himself.

"I'll see you all at base tomorrow."

On the ride home, you tell him that they were all very nice. John's grip on the steering wheel tightens and says that as nice as they are, they go through women more than they do magazines.

"Oh." Did he imagine the disappointment laced in your voice?

"Do you?" What?

"I don't do it often."

"Oh." He turns his head to look at you, but you're staring out the window.

His heart races and elation thrums through his veins. You definitely sounded upset. John looks straight ahead and speeds up to take you home.

His home.

There's only you for him, and if you won't take the first step, then he will.

--

side note: what if he didn't return those feelings? christ id eat my fucking phone. im running away!!! no one look at me how embarrassing!!! his eyes soften, and he's like, "Oh. I'm so sorry, love. You and I practically grew up together."

That really stings. And then he brings his little girlfriend over to meet you and your brother, and you stiffly shake her hand and go to your room to cry.

Someone softly knocks on your door, and you don't move to open it, just yell at whoever is at the door to fuck off in a warbly voice. John's muffled I'm sorry deepens the crack in your heart.

"'S'alright, John. I'll be okay."

You did this to yourself, anyway.

The marriage invitation comes in the mail and you tear it to pieces.

Since you were young, you dreamt of being Mrs. Price, but now, that's all it'll ever be.

A childish dream.

[bloodstainedsaint]

Hey, I'm not sure if you take requests, but if you do, I have an idea:) Could you write something about a young woman who was in the Air Force disguised as a man and her plane was hit by the Germans while under attack, forcing her to jump out, leaving her stranded with her plane down and easy company witnessed the whole thing and tries to look for the pilot?

maybe with some romance or whatever with my mans lieb or doc roe if that’s possible hihi

when worlds collide (joseph liebgott x air force! reader)

word count: 1000+

warnings: blood & injury, but nothing really graphic

notes: sorry for the wait on this one 😭 i've been busy BUT i promise to be posting more during my break

You didn't remember much after your plane was hit by German flak while passing over some Dutch forest you couldn't recall the name of. What you could remember was everything rapidly blinking and on fire around you, dials going this way and that, your hands flying around the control board and trying desperately to pull up with the yoke as you cursed violently beneath your breath.

Following your fruitless struggle against gravity, you remembered preparing to parachute out of your plane and into the woods beneath you.

You were pretty sure you blacked out for a while after that.

-

The sight of a fighter plane nosediving into the ground and its booming resulting crash interrupted an otherwise uneventful five-man patrol through the woods.

“Jesus Christ! Did you see that?” Babe exclaimed, gawking up at where the plane had been in the sky mere seconds ago.

“Looks like it landed near us,” Pat observed.

Don looked wide-eyed. “It was one of ours. The pilot might need our help if he ejected in time!”

Lip shushed them. “There's AA guns nearby. Someone ought to go back and tell Battalion they’re positioned somewhere to our left near that dike we passed. Christenson, you go.”

As Pat nodded and left the way they came, Lip said, “We can't take too long looking for a pilot we don't know is alive or not." He checked his watch and sighed. "Alright, meet back here at 1700. Stay alert. Don't go too far on your own.”

The squad spread out in search of the hopefully-alive pilot. Joe walked with his rifle at the ready for about 20 minutes before stumbling upon large chunks of debris from the plane. Not far from that was a severed parachute, and then a blood trail.

He followed it until he noticed a pilot sitting on the ground next to some brush with his back turned to him, his clothes torn up enough to where large parts of skin littered with cuts were visible. Joe slowly approached, mindful not to scare him and wind up with a bullet in his head.

“Hey,” he called out. “Hey, buddy.”

The pilot turned around, and Joe noticed that “he” was not a he at all.

Your hand shot to the pistol on your belt, leveling it at him while vainly covering up your top half. You’d been trying to treat your wounds with the first-aid kit strapped to your waist; you'd gotten several steadily bleeding scratches from falling through trees and one or two broken ribs from your hasty landing. You ended up taking off your corset to relieve pressure on your ribcage, leaving you with your ripped up uniform and coveralls.

Regardless of your relief that an American soldier had found you rather than a German one, you kept your hand fixed on your sidearm.

“Woah, lady, put down the gun. I'm not a Kraut.” Lowering his own gun, his narrowed eyes flashed to your chest and widened at the sight of the reddish purple bruises that blemished it. "Goddamn..."

“It’s not what it looks like,” you managed out, though talking (or breathing, for that matter) was difficult.

“I don’t care what it looks like,” he said, the edge to his tone softening as he carefully walked toward you. “You need help.”

You painfully exhaled and set the gun down next to you. You turned around again to focus on treating your injuries, wincing with the movement. “I'm fine.”

“You don't look it.” He crouched down next to you. You flinched away slightly — you'd been disguised as a man for a while now, and this was the first time anyone was seeing you so vulnerable since your enlistment — before letting him inspect your wounds, albeit with you concealing your chest with your arms and what remained of your jacket.

“What’s your name?” he asked, gingerly applying sulfa powder to the gashes on your body.

You slightly hissed at the stinging sensation. “(Y/N), Senior Airman, 4th Fighter Group.”

“Joseph D. Liebgott, Technician 5th Grade, 101st Airborne.”

There was a temporary silence, punctuated only by you sucking in air through your teeth. As he bandaged one of the cuts, he said, “We need to get you some help. I was out here on patrol with my squad; we have a medic back at—”

“What?” You looked at him with a bewildered expression. “No, I don't need any medic. I just need help informing my superiors I got lost going through dense fog and got shot down here.”

“Why not? ‘Cause he'll see you're a girl?”

You gave him a pointed look. “Why else? If you haven't noticed, there aren't very many women serving on the front lines.” You paused and took a deep breath in through your nose. “If you bring your squad over here, someone's gonna report me and get me kicked out of the Air Force…Hell, I don't even know if I trust you to not report me. I just met you, for Chrissakes.”

In truth, you didn’t even know why you were letting him tend to you anyways — you were capable of doing it yourself, your biggest secret was currently exposed, and he was a stranger. But there was something about his change in demeanor and a sudden tenderness in his voice once he saw your injuries that made you want to trust him.

“Your secret’s safe, (Y/N),” he said firmly, a set expression on his face. “I got no reason to rat you out; I just met you too.”

You scanned his face for any signs of deceit, sighed when you found none, and nodded. “I’m still not letting your medic take a look at me.”

“Fine, but that’s not gonna stop me from helping you. I’ll be quick; the guys are gonna be expecting me back soon. We’ll go talk to them together.”

He resumed his aid, and after a few minutes, you could tell that he had started getting curious; he didn't seem like a man who knew how to shut up.

“How’d you disguise yourself as a man this long?”

With a shaky inhale, you closed your eyes as his hands brushed over your rib cage. Involuntarily, a small smile made its way onto your face as the countless predicaments you’d found yourself in flooded your memory. “It’s a long story.”

Liebgott cracked a crooked smile. “I can make some time.”

Laughing despite the pain that flared in your rib cage from the action, you couldn't help but feel that this chanced occasion wouldn't be the last time you would speak to Liebgott. And for some reason foreign to you at that moment, you hoped that your intuition was correct.

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101

[bryhoney]

Recognisance pt.5

It's been so long since my last update it's now Pride Month!!! (Yay!!)

Again, I'm sorry it's taken so long - things are still up in the air for my personal life but here we go update time.

EDIT: I left in sections from a previous draft that kind of muddles up which Ghost the reader confronts. Very sorry!!! Edited out now!!!

<- Previous Next ->

He’s standing 20 feet away from you, on the other side of the server room. He’s holding his rifle out in front of him - aiming directly at you. 

He’s barely visible in the darkness, his figure illuminated only by the red glow that dips in and out. He appears entirely unphased as he inches closer to you, as though he is preparing to strike.  

You can barely think straight, utterly terrified to face a Ghost again. 

“Don’t cry yet, there’s so much-”

Your hand doesn’t shake as you aim your pistol towards him - your body resolute in its mission to fight. You would not be going anywhere with this bastard. 

You’d kill him before he harmed you again.

The ghost calls out your name softly as though he’s trying not to scare you. It’s almost a whisper, but you can tell there’s no shock in his voice, he knew you were here. He sounds devastated. 

“Kid?” his stance falters, his shoulders drop and he takes a step forward

Pain and darkness and laughter. Silver catches in the light as it moves closer to your skin. 

You push the memory away, now is not the time for this. Even the slightest distraction will allow him an opportunity to kill you. This man was one of the finest the Americans had - you would not best his reaction time. 

“Stay right there!” you yell across the space between you, voice unwavering and strong despite being up against an opponent whose skills you simply couldn’t match. He was a Ghost after all and you were? 

“It’s me, I-” He says softly, “Do you know who I am?” he asks like he’s trying to tame a wild animal.

“Shut the fuck up” you snap at him. How dare he speak to you like that? Your fear was morphing into abject rage and your finger itched at the trigger. Yet, despite everything Rorke’s ever told you, the desire for answers currently outweighs your desire for revenge. 

You decide you want to know who you’re about to kill. 

You’re desperately trying to recall the images plastered around the base of the Ghosts, trying to piece together which mask matched the ghost in front of you. 

He takes yet another footstep towards you and whispers your name again, his gun lowers away from you ever so slightly. 

You readjust by centimetres and fire, shooting his left shoulder. A warning shot. 

He stumbles backwards slightly, quickly catching his footing. He hisses in pain but that’s all the reaction he gives you from the impact. You’re almost disappointed. 

He doesn’t deserve a warning. At least that’s what you tell yourself - you don’t want to think about how, just for a moment, you were scared you might have miscalculated. That your shot might have rang true, killing him.

Why would that scare you?

He takes a step backwards, somehow managing to keep ahold of his rifle amidst the chaos, which is now aimed back at you. Yet, it doesn't feel steadfast, more half-hearted than anything.

Your breathing is shallow and is absolutely giving away how much adrenaline is coursing through you. You notice your hand is shaking now, and you take a step backwards towards safety. 

“I guess I should’ve seen that coming, huh?” he huffs, it feels like it should’ve been a laugh but his rigid roll of his shoulders gives away his discomfort. 

“Why- How could-?” you shake your head, angry at your inability to control your emotions. You must sound so weak and vulnerable. You were back in the hole again. 

“Look- Kid, this isn’t the reunion either of us wanted, believe me- but we’ve gotta move. Now.” his voice is low and urgent - he sounds utterly in control. “We’ve got to get you out of here, and we’ve got to go now” he brings his hand up to his comms device and you suddenly harden, clenching your jaw. 

“Don’t you fucking dare” You grit your teeth and aim your gun at him again, you might be able to take one ghost out, but no more. 

“Keegan, really? Are you fucking serious? She’s my-”

It’s the voice you once heard comforting you. It’s your father’s voice. Elias’s voice and its sudden invasion cripples you. You stagger back, trying not to lose your sudden advantage over the ghost whose gun is now only gripped by one hand.

“Dammit, we’ve gotta go now” There’s an urgency to his voice as his comms chatter too quietly for you to make out over the alarm. 

He hurt you. 

“I should kill you!” It was meant to sound threatening, but it’s more of a question. 

“We don’t have time for this, lower the gun, Walker” I can hear the frustration mounting in his voice an-

“Walker?” you’re heart sinks. No. No. NO. 

He pauses, “Oh kid, no- What’ve they done to you” he sounds sad. 

“You’re an idiot” the man with the deep voice, he’s laughing. He has the same voice as the man in front-

“You’re a Walker —-- and thr–gh, a certified idiot - I thought may– it was just the men – —- family”, there’s more laughter. 

You feel tears run down your face, “No” is about all you can manage. Your breathing is erratic and your stance is forgotten, the gun is lowered but he doesn’t take advantage of the situation. 

“Higher! H–! Lo will c-tch me!” you’re a child. Happy. 

“That’s your name, look I’m- we’ve gotta get you out of-” he begins, softly, urgently, but the doors to the server room crash open before he can continue. 

“Keegan?” you whisper. It’s him - his gravelly voice. He’s the voice that’s… “No-”

He lurches forward reaching out for you, and every instinct in your body tells you to fight. Yet, the movement is all too familiar-

Your gun is raised and he stalls, before, yelling, “KID, C’MON” as he runs for cover. You’re standing out in the open as gunfire ricochets around you. 

Every instinct tells you that this man is safe. But the memories of what the ghosts did to you are so overwhelming. So terrifyingly real that you can’t move. You desperately want to, but you just can’t. Your brain is too consumed with trying to piece together that you’re a Walker. 

Your dad is Elias. Your brothers are Logan and Hesh Walker. 

It’s only at the thought of them that you jolt back into action. Despite being willing participants in your torture, something doesn’t fit right. 

No, they didn’t- it wasn’t. You love them, they love- loved you. 

You’re surrounded by Federation soldiers, it’s too late for any escape with him now. But it’s not too late to help them. You’re not entirely sure why you feel the need to help them after everything. It’s too scrambled to make sense so you push it out of your mind. 

“I’ve got you! You won’t fall!” 

A tear escapes you.

Some of the soldiers grab you, and you try shrugging them off, “don't touch me,” is all you manage. They chatter amongst themselves, organising a search for the Ghosts. Some of the men begin escorting you back down the way they came. You have a mission in mind; get to one of the surveillance rooms. 

—

The alarm is still blaring when you reach the surveillance room, it’s empty. You ask the guards to lock you in and stand watch so the ghosts can’t get to you. It’s not a convincing rouse, but they don’t question it too much. 

Inside the room, you try to calmly make your way to the observation deck, it’s small but it’s got enough controls that you might be able to be of some use. There’s only one man inside the room with you and he's relatively easy to disarm, even easier to immobilise. You’re not entirely sure how you did it, it was almost a reflex.

Ignoring the shouting coming from his radio, your eyes scan across the series of monitors in front of you. 

You find them quickly, they’re in one of the lower levels, two of them standing next to one of the doors that lead to an external tunnel that burrows into the nearest mountain. They’re trying to blow the door out with some sort of explosive, while two others are kickstarting a car to life. 

You can see the button that will open the door, but you press another, the one that locks the hanger door behind them just before Federation soldiers can burst through. 

You unlock the tunnel door, and open comms, “Go” is all you manage as the door springs open. One of the Ghosts shouts your name, and you hold back a sob. It’s Hesh. It’s your brother Hesh. 

The ghost standing next to him has to forcibly wrestle him into the car before they make their escape. You press another button and the door seals shut behind him. 

You destroy all the footage you can, but it won’t do anything. If they want to find it, they will. 

You’ve sentenced yourself to death for men who tried to kill you. For men who are your family. Rorke had given you a false name, he had redacted your information from the dossiers on the Walkers. 

He’d tried to erase you.

Nothing made sense, you’d seen the ghosts hurt you. You’d felt it and lived it for months and months and months. You’d never seen-

The door opens and Rorke stands on the threshold. 

You’re crying, breathing rapidly as you point the gun towards him, “Gabriel? What’s happening to me?” you feel like you’re shutting down. He’s going to look after you.

He’s going to kill you.

He puts his hands up, “We’ve got you, it’s alright”. 

You shake your head, “You lied to me. I’m-” he’s already crossed the distance between you and has lowered your gun. You’re shaking and you hate the conclusion that’s slowly forming in your head. The resolve that is building in you. 

“We’ve got a lot to talk about,” it’s soft, thinly threat. He nods his head towards the control panels that you’ve deactivated, “don’t we?’. 

You hate that another sob escapes you. How weak you are. 

“You don’t have to pretend you’re alright, kid” it’s his voice again. 

Rorke hauls you away, and you’re less concerned with your safety and find your thoughts drifting back to one, unmistakable fact. 

Rorke killed Elias. 

Rorke killed your father. 

[monstrousgourmandizingcats]

ik the post was from like a week ago but would like to hear your thoughts on jackie and the prescription drug thing because it really isnt discussed!

Absolutely. Jackie has prooooblems and I really wish they were more openly talked about in the fandom.

So there are at least three references to Jackie abusing prescription drugs in canon. I forget what the third is (I might be misremembering it but I'm pretty sure it's there), but the first two are in "Pilot" and "Blood Hive". The reason why Shauna is asleep during the flight is that Jackie has given her Valium, a benzo (its generic name is diazepam) that in the 70s through 90s was commonly prescribed for anxiety and to an extent still is. What's remarkable about this is the casual way everyone involved treats it; this is consistent in how Shauna and Jackie themselves talk about Jackie's drug use, but the scene also establishes that even Jackie's mother doesn't seem to see any need to monitor her teenage daughter's access to her pills. As Jackie puts it, "Swiped these from my mom's medicine cabinet. Valium. She's got, like, a never-ending supply, so I doubt she'll even notice."

A series of questions already arises here, all of which the show is fascinatingly uninterested in answering, possibly because the screenwriters share Shauna and Jackie's flippant attitude (which is generational, as I'll discuss below) but, I think, likely also because what's implied about the Taylor household here is more disturbing if it's not spelled out. Why does Mrs. Taylor have that much of a med lying around at all times? Has Jackie taken the Valium before? If so, why and how often? (Does she, perhaps, use it to get through sex acts with Jeff?)

The second time this comes up is in the scene in which Shauna and Jackie are discussing their respective Wilderness skills as Shauna butchers one of Nat and Travis's first quarries. Almost everyone in the fandom has favorite bits of this scene, which is full of fantastic Shaunajackie lines and moments, so it's surprising to me that this isn't discussed more, but again, the breathtakingly casual delivery probably goes some way towards distracting the viewer from what's actually being communicated. (It could also be that the line in question here comes immediately before "Wowza, Shipman," which understandably steals the show):

Shauna: Remember when Kiffy Schumacher broke her arm right before we were supposed to go to Whipsplash River, and you told her that if she shared her Percocet, we'd all crash bingo at the Elks Lodge instead? Jackie: Wait. Is this a pep talk? Wowza, Shipman. Wow, that is so not your style.

Uh. Girls? You okay there? "Poppin' Percs" is something Kendrick Lamar accused Drake of earlier this month. The company that makes this drug is currently being pounded in court by the Attorneys General of Ohio, Mississippi, Missouri, New York, and possibly other states too since the last time I checked. You're talking about like it's Pez.

Percocet is a mixture of oxycodone, which is an opioid, and paracetamol, which is a common over-the-counter painkiller (it's called acetaminophen in the US and a few other countries; it's the active ingredient in Tylenol and Panadol). Unlike Valium, oxy is something I've been on in the past--I, like Kiffy Schumacher, had a badly fucked-up arm a few years ago--so I can speak to how it's currently treated in American medical culture. You're given a very small amount of it at once, you pace yourself taking it and alternate it with over-the-counter painkillers unless absolutely necessary, and if you have any left over when you decide you no longer need it, which I did, you surrender whatever pills you still have on you to the police. I know that the current widely accepted view on drug control is that it's wildly overdone in the US, and I agree with that for the most part, but in this case the tight controls on this sort of painkiller are a regulation that was written in blood. And the opioid epidemic is still ongoing; in fact, in some ways it's worse, since people are using black-market opioids now that are even more dangerous than oxy and its ilk.

I do want to stress that Jackie's pattern of drug use isn't unusual for a teenager; in fact, it's pretty classic. "Adolescents....most commonly reported receiving prescription[s] for free from a friend or relative, although significant proportions of adolescents also used their own prescriptions, purchased drugs from a dealer, or took them from friends or family without asking." (The article linked cites data taken in 2006, when the prescription drug abuse epidemic on whose upward slope Jackie lives had plateaued.) I also want to clarify that the cavalier attitude Shauna and Jackie have towards prescription drugs isn't unique to this category of substances; teenagers in the 1990s were much more blasé about controlled substances in general than they are today, and adolescent prescription drug abuse has declined less than most other categories:

(Note the especially massive drop-off in adolescent cigarette use after the turn of the millennium. Lottie in her kinderwhore-meets-Empire Records party outfit diffidently holding a cig is very much an image from the past these days. And yet this isn't entirely a success story; adolescents who are still engaging in substance abuse are OD'ing a lot more than they were thirty years ago.)

I don't really have a conclusion here, because I just want to encourage the fandom to discuss this aspect of Jackie's character, not necessarily to adopt any particular narrativization or interpretation of it. This, then, is the basics on Jackie and prescription drugs. Poor girl.

[artificial-transmutations]

Transformation Letter: Dian

Hello. My name is Dian and I wouldn't mind transforming into anything or anyone. I'm an single 38 bisexual teacher, whom works out twice per week. My students would most likely describe me as the boring brown math teacher with the medium length black hair.

It wouldn't be right to say that today it is your favorite day of the year. To be honest, it's not even clear if you even have a favorite day of the year, at least regarding to your job.

Not anymore, at least. With your 38 years, you are teaching math for over ten years now. Ten years of reiterating the same and same again to your students. It is what people describe one of the biggest boons of teaching math: The subject never changes. While your colleagues have to integrate some new events or discoveries into their lessons every now and then, math never changes.

So, why is today one of the days you look most forward to? Because it's time for curve sketching again. This is both the subject you discovered your passion for math with and the point in the curriculum where you can see clearly which students are able to grasp the concepts of math - and which are too dumb.

Still, calling that one of your highlights sheds a sorry light on your academic career. Becoming a teacher *seemed* like a good idea, but the truth is that the endless repetitions are mind-numbingly dumb. You could have gotten a research job at university, but you decided to become a teacher. Ever since, every day is the same, every week, every year. Everything is on repeat. Teaching, driving home, working out twice a week, like a clockwork, summer holidays, winter holidays, one and the same.

You shake away the thought and sigh before entering your classroom and begin your lesson. You have the feeling you will lose half of your students today, intellectually, but you can hardly feel sorry. Math in school isn't hard. There is no reason for anyone not to get it.

So, you drone on and slowly approach one of the central milestones of the subject.

"And, as h approaches zero, we narrow in to the slope of the curve on that singular value for x. That is what we call a dancing quotient."

You look into the confused faces of your students. What did you just say? No, this is wrong. You try again.

"Sorry. The diffuse quo..." You trail off. Something is not quite right with you. You should know the word for that... thing. You look at the blackboard again. A big line with letters above and below, some arrows and a drawing of some curve. If you are honest, you don't understand fuck about all that. Weren't you supposed to teach math? Where are the numbers? What are letters doing in math.

"Is everything alright, Sir?" one of your students asks. Something else is wrong. When you look at your hand holding the chalk, it is way darker than it is supposed to look.

"Excuse me..." you mumble, surprised how deep your voice sounds. You exit the classroom and head towards the nearest bathroom, almost running.

The world seems wrong, too. It's like you’re looking at it from way too high. When you finally arrive and look at the mirror, you notice that your clothes are tight and constricting. Looking back from the mirror is another man, not the 38 year old math teacher you are used seeing every morning. The face looking back at you is younger, twenty-something. And it is Black, African American heritage, definitely. You can see your medium length black hair receding into your scalp, leaving you with the shortest buzz cut, as your nostrils become wider.

Not just your face changed! Your muscles grow and your shoulders expand, bringing your clothes that are riding high close to the breaking point. They don't break, however, but reform into a simple work uniform, covering your massive black body. At your groin, you can see the ample bulge of your dick and it makes you smile contently. You might not be the smartest, but you sure are both the strongest and best endowed man around here.

You give the mirror one last wipe and begin to clean the toilets with the janitorial equipment in your cart. Being a janitor in school is good work and doesn't require much of an education. That's why you even clean the toilets happily. However, it doesn't really pay well, either, so, recently you have gotten a second job as a bouncer in front of a gay club.

You don't mind the club visitors ogling your body or touching it from time to time, so the combination of both jobs makes for a diverse and eventful life! The strange letter you sent two weeks ago is already well forgotten.

Another one of those Transformation Letters. You, too can send one, over at my riot page!

[tabularasawithfeeling]

I watched the movie I Saw the TV Glow (2024) and it truly felt like a love letter to Buffy! <33 I cried multiple times and thought it was a very emotional story about growing up as trans/queer!

These are the Buffy references i found (big spoilers for both the movie and Buffy!!):

(Most of these are in the Pink Opaque show within the movie but not all)

1. The imagery in the show with the girl in the tank top and the axe is SO Buffy!

2. One of the characters in the show is named Tara

3. The font in the show is the same as in Buffy

4. They talk about things like monster of the week and big bad, and they are also metaphors in the show, like the monsters in Buffy.

5. "Isn't that a show for girls?" I thought this was a reference to Buffy since i know multiple male fans who secretly watched Buffy when it was airing because people thought it was a show for girls. Looking at the interviews this was also the director's experience and they included it on purpose!

6. The school colors are the same as Sunnydale High! I don't know if this is a common color combo in American high schools. But it's a fun regardless!

7. It says "Class of 1996" on the wall, it's the same year Buffy started slaying!

8. "Season 2 finale: guaranteed to make you cry". I guessed that this was a reference to the Buffy season 2 finale "Take all that away, and what’s left?" "Me" -moment. And i read an article where the director Jane Schoenbrun talks about how Becoming Part 2 and Once More with Feeling are their favourite episodes, and mentioned this specific moment too, so i think that checks out!

9."Isabel + Tara on the psychic plane", "it means they're special" etc. - very similar to willow and tara's relationship on screen. One of them even has a VERY similar hat as early Willow, and a similar fashion sense!

10. "Isabel and Tara are like family to me" - A common feeling in fandoms, especially one Buffy fans often have. The Director talked about this as well in an article (they're a true Buffy fan!).

11. "I don't even have a learner's permit yet, how can i have a destiny" - very close to something Buffy has said, like "I don't have a destiny. I'm destiny-free."

12. Amber Benson shows up!!

13. When the monster-fighting character in the show kills a clown/monster, she literally does it like Buffy! She has a pole thing as a weapon, wears a leather jacket, and has a witty one-liner, ahh <3 it's so Buffy!

14. In the scene when Owen is picking an episode to watch you can see there is an episode called "Which Witch is Witch" and "Who You Calling Dummy?". - references to the Witch and the Puppet Show episodes in season 1 of Buffy. Something about the vibes of the movie also feels a little like Normal Again.

15. Pausing the action for a musical performance like at the Bronze. ((+ one of the director's favourite episodes is Once More with Feeling <3 so clearly they appreciate music)) + The club is called "Double Lunch", that name is lowkey giving double meat palace vibes lol.

16. The main character dies and claws out of her grave. It's the season 5 finale in both the show in the movie, and in Buffy, it lines up perfectly.

Might have missed something but i tried to include everything i noticed myself!

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

"[jake] following the little rules so that no one notices you breaking the big ones." This might be a silly question but are you able to elaborate / give examples? I'm having trouble recalling this as a thing that happens, probably just because it's a concept that's never been on my radar when i've read the series.

One example that always stands out to me is how Jake introduces himself to the American military in #53:

"General Doubleday," I said. "My name is Jake." Three big, burly MP's were on me before I could yell. They knocked me onto my back, twisted me over on my face, and slapped handcuffs on me... "No, sir, I'm not," I grated with my cheek pressed hard onto a pencil and a crumpled map. "But chances are some of the people in this room are." ...I sighed. The MP's hustled me from the room, down a hallway to a bare, overlit room furnished with a chair and a sink and a cot and a steel door with a feeding slot in it. They threw me in, not at all gently. I was a prisoner. Three minutes later, I demorphed in front of General Doubleday again.

Just... the fact that Jake takes the time to learn the Sam Doubleday's name, and title, and then uses that or "sir" every time he addresses him. The way that he lets himself get dragged away three times, each time politely waiting to be tossed into a cell before he morphs back to dragonfly and heads back to the war room. And this is how Jake infiltrates the USAF to perform a military coup: he asks nicely, and doesn't take "no" for an answer.

We see Jake being careful to learn and use military titles in #46, in #18 and #52. It's also "Aunt Naomi" while he's asking her nicely to remain calm as he kidnaps her and her daughters (#49). It's "Commander Gonrod" while he's taking command away from Gonrod by force (#38). So on. Part of the reason he rejects titles is that he respects titles.

Same goes for how Jake, more than any of the others, moves missions so he can make family obligations (#11, #13, #27), remembers birthdays (MM1), compliments his parents' cooking (#16, #31), and cares more about hurting their feelings than getting in trouble (#4, #47). He tears his family apart in the end, but along the way he's almost never late for dinner.

And, if I can be more controversial: we see the same principle in how the Animorphs make decisions. Tobias notes it the most (because of course) but there are several times when Jake calling a vote or waiting for volunteers is more of a formality than anything: "Jake made a face I see too often... He hadn't wanted to single me out, make me go on what might be a suicidal mission. He'd waited till I could volunteer" (#33). Or "I didn't want to have to sit down and explain it all to them... Jake would wait and listen calmly, and would judge... I didn't want them to decide what I felt" (#23). Jake calls for votes on most decisions — but Jake always casts a vote, often first. And Jake knows that Marco and often Rachel support him no matter what, and he knows that Ax will abstain. So whatever Jake wants is usually how the vote ends up going, and that's not a coincidence. He's asking for input from the others, that much is real, but he's not likely to be talked out of making up his mind.

[crepes-suzette-373]

Every other day I find more Kamen Rider nods/callbacks in Germa, and it's getting really obnoxious, I just keep wondering what sensei is trying to do with this. If he's just having fun because he really likes Kamen Rider and Super Sentai, this is kind of going overboard.

Maybe he's just trolling Toei with this nonsense??? Toei as a studio runs Kamen Rider, Super Sentai, Sailor Moon, Pretty Cure (another magic girl show), and of course One Piece. Maybe he thought it'd be funny to make this bizarre combination of all the above and he just happens to really like Kamen Rider the most??

Sometimes the nods are too serious to be a joke, but on the other hand it's also super absurd at other times.

The Super Sentai team look is almost a camouflage, lore-wise they're definitely closer to Kamen Rider. Plus, Kamen Rider itself did have its "evil team" with rainbow scarves (all identical suits, though). Funky belts and scarves? That's the classic Kamen Rider's iconic look.

And then the Germa leader in the comic book resembling the military-looking guy (a KR villain commander). Based on the rough drafts that military look almost was designated to be how Judge actually looks before sensei scrapped it (too obvious, maybe?).

Kind of hard to see but in the screenshots you can also see the evil organisation's logo (on the floor in the middle of the table) looks like the Germa eagle symbol. And the setup of the "table under throne" in the left screenshot looks more specifically similar.

He's been mixing up various tropes from multiple seasons so it's just really

The term "modified humans" 改造人間 that was used to refer the the siblings is something that was characteristic of the Shouwa Riders (the really old ones from 90s and older). This is not "cyborg", by the way, just genetic modification. Like, in American superhero terms, Captain America or Winter Soldier would also categorise as 改造人間.

Sanji's backstory and the exoskeleton mods and even "evil twins" is more specifically Kamen Rider Black. The raid suit can transformation pose are the newer riders (Heisei Riders) from later in the 2000s onwards.

The original Kamen Rider villains, the Shocker group, were legitimately just flat out Nazis (or affiliated to them), and I honestly think the weird look in Germa is because of the Kamen Rider Easter Egg. Not because sensei was thinking "Germa = Germany".

Certainly we don't know when this stuff turned into this, as the old drafts proved that there was a time he designed "Sanji's family" to just look mostly normal. The father who was named Saint Germain looks just kind of like Pedro but human. Yonji looks like pre-timeskip Sanji but has a sword.

To me it felt more like he was going for the French/Saint Germain angle at first, then suddenly it became Kamen Rider and the Third Reich stuff crawled in. Sensei does a lot of research I'm sure, but I mean, most Japanese text usually calls Germany "Doitsu". Even the WW2 stuff would refer to them with something-Doitsu.

Unless he picked up a text with English words in them, he might not have really noticed Germany is spelled "Germany" in English. We don't know either way, that's why I don't like to assume for certain.

Anyway, I'm not sure how much of this can serve as a predictor. If it really is a straight reference, Sanji might then just adopt the mods completely. As mentioned above, the old Riders were "modified humans". The evil organisation were the people who forcibly gave them the powers they never wanted. They just reject the evil intent, but embrace the power because they're using it for good.

But if this is all just trolling, then scrap all that and now I know nothing.

[winxrewritingsandfictions]

My AU & Headcanon

In this post, I'm going to explain many details about how I see the Winx universe. This post will be updated regularly.

A few words of introduction. 🍄

Hello there, I'm Sam. I'm 25 and I live in Paris, France. I have a degree in English literature, and most precisely as a researcher in American literature. So, yes, I love reading and writing. 🧡

Kimii used to be my user name when I was twelve. I used to have a french news account on Winx club. (does it still exist? Nope... the website shut down in 2023). So when I created my account here, I just kept it. It's a sort of identity I embraced my whole teenage years, so it made sense to keep it. It's my Winx Identity.

For the language, I write in English. I may be fluent, but I can leave some mistakes here and there. If you notice any big ones, please feel free to send me a DM. Thank you very much. It can be hard sometimes to notice them.

The Winx Club I grew up with. 🌚

The first thing I think is essential to know about my writing, is that I grew up with the only french dub existing, which is based on the original one (Rai Italy). I stick a lot to the original plot while I try to make it more conherent and consistent.

Headcanon or Canon? ☀️

I'm mostly canon at first sight. Indeed, I stick to the original plot, but I also tend to modify details, timelines, or events so it makes more sense. I like to change those details enough that the story holds more realism and maturity.

One of the major things I do when I keep the original plot is that I add the details given in the comic books. For those who didn't read them, the main storyline is similar (Bloom looking for her parents, etc...) The comics feel more like filler episodes. That's why I like to add those details to my stories. For example, Bloom has a job in Magix. It is shown in the comics but not the cartoon. This detail makes sense as we see in season 4 that the specialists exchange valuables for paper money. The same goes for Bloom, she works in order to have Magix's currency.

So consider my Winx canon as a mix of both comic books and of the cartoon.

I write a lot about Bloom & Sky, (oops ?🤗) since they are my favorite. I have many, many, MANY ideas for them. So it won't be very balanced between the pairings 😶 However, I do accept prompts and requests for pretty much every character.

Most, if not all my stories are linked. I like to build a consistent timeline. So if you happen to read all the oneshots or longer ff, you will notice some ref to older ff or oneshots I posted. On my main post, always make sure to include a set timeline so it gives you an idea of where the scenes take place. After season 4, I don't acknowledge anything. Not even the second movie (I liked it a lot but it is a huge problem in my timeline since the dubs are all over the place...)

For the stories that happen in the future, those would be more headcanon. The pairings might be canon most of the time, the plots would be so advanced that I don't think they can be considered canon. Plus, I love world-building.

Information on some characters. 🌈

Musa & Tecna: not royals in my AU. They are not introduced as such in the Rai version. Plus, I much prefer them as "normal people" as it brings even more diversity to the cartoon. I would hate to have most Winx girls being princesses... For Tecna, I want to work on her as half fairy, half android. Just like she was supposed to be.

Riven: Oh Riven.... I have a sort of affection for him. Like a soft spot for who he could be if the writing of the show had given him more time to grow. I will work on that. You have my word. Not only do I want him to have a past, but also a future. I see him doing great things.

Aisha/Layla: In the french dub, she is called Layla, but I really like Aisha because we love diversity here. Plus, Aisha has a beautiful meaning!

Sky: In my AU, he stays Brandon at the beginning and then Prince Sky later on like in the original. I plan on writing a few oneshots about what if he had been "prince Sky" from the beginning, or if he had never attended Red Foutain (I really like that one hehe).

Helia: I like the idea of Helia being a bit cold and blunt, like at the beginning of season 2. (or at least he was in French). That man did not care about anybody but Flora and I loved that. So I will work with him in that way.

Diaspro: I get that most fans tend to redeem her a lot, but I think her arc in seasons 1, 2, and 3 is brilliant. Although the path of the narrative did not allow her to grow a little bit or even explain why she behaved the way she did. So, my Diaspro is still... Well Diaspro, but I want to build her more realistically. She is an interesting character. Her being a fairy and yet being manipulative and self-centered is much more realistic. It brings a lot of dimention to the magical world. Wwhat if she was forced by conventions and traditions to be a fairy, because of her nobility ? hmmm... You will have to wait and see.

Nabu: Don't talk to me, he will live on forever on this Tumblr. While I love him, and I adore his sacrifice, I can't let go of him. He is just sleeping, Okay. Now move along. 💨

Samara and Erendor: I have read @gins-potter fanfic (go read it! ) and she made me remember one of my childhood frustration. Why in the world does Sky look nothing like his parents??! Erendor looks like... Brandon? She actually changed their appearance, which I loved. I want to keep Samara as she is, but maybe Erendor will have to suffer a rendez-vous at the hairstylist. And @gins-potter agreed to let me use her depiction of Erendor since it feats perfeclty the way I imagined him.

Domino/Sparx: I will only use Domino as it is the name I always knew. Same for Melody.

When it comes to the Winx and their life after Alfea, I have a very detailed idea of their jobs and position etc... I will either do a post abour it, or just let you guys discover more about it in the stories.

Last Update: 17/06/24.

[nerves-nebula]

hi there, i want to ask about your usage of it/its pronouns, sorry if this might make you uncomfortable or if its weird or confusing

are your it/its pronouns any different from it/its pronouns for an object? I don't know how to word it sorry, I'm just trying to understand more about other types of pronouns

It’s fine. They aren’t different from an objects it/its to me, because objects & animals & concepts aren’t inherently inferior to humans, so I wouldn’t really mind being in the same group as them conceptually.

It’s a mindset I haven’t fully gotten into but I’m trying to rework the way I see the world, inspired partially by the things I’ve heard native Americans say. Like, I am not better than the food I eat because I’m human. A bear isn’t better than me because they can eat me & kill me. Humans are a part of the earth and would do best to work inside of it and with it than to try to control it or put ourselves on a higher level than it’s other creatures.

I mean clearly we can’t be all that much smarter & more important, what with what we’ve got going on.

But anyway, my pronoun change was at first honestly just the most logical conclusion.

Here’s my train of thought: I didn’t like he or she, Im not a man or a woman. and they/them don’t tell you anything about my gender. If you hear someone call me they/them you aren’t even gonna know I have a weird gender!

Similar to how man and woman are genders, but Non-binary isn’t. Non-binary just describes what you aren’t, its an umbrella term not (inherently) a specific gender. it’s very broad and most nonbinary people I’ve seen & met still identify in parts with man and woman. They/them is so vague that no one would bat an eye if you slipped in a they while describing a cis person who clearly reads as their assigned gender.

And I’m too forgetful & lazy to use neopronouns so, it/it’s was the natural choice. It’s easier to integrate because people already use it/it’s for stuff all the time.

And see, here’s the thing: I have a gender, I’m not vague or in between or a mix. And it’s much closer to like, the idea of a Third Gender. This was something that frustrated me a lot in high school because I would go looking for labels and most of them were about proximity to manhood & womanhood. Or about being agender or neutral. Or about concepts I fully did not relate to. I am not one of those things.

Another issue I had was that a lot of these gender labels had “-gender” at the end which doesn’t make sense to me at all. It’s not mangender and womangender so I didn’t vibe with this naming scheme.

I was also hesitant to use a label a white person made because I’d noticed that white people kind of have a different experience with nonbinary gender than people like me.

Luckily I found the perfect label! Maverique! It had no weird -gender suffix and it was made by a black person who created it online after realizing neutral/agender didn’t fit right.

And yea so it/its is a signifier of me as a third thing. not male, not female, not neutral or in between or lacking gender- just a different kind of person.

And this isn’t even getting into all the ways that I related to monsters in media, which were frequently called by it/it’s pronouns. Or how being abused factors into seeing myself as a non human THING and how embracing that makes me feel much more alive & like a person.

So yea, that’s the run down :)

[anna-hawk]

Silhouette

Relationship: Julian Kaye x GN!Reader Fandom: American Gigolo Rating: M Word count: 2717

Summary: You work for a men's wear store and Julian comes in, looking for a new suit.

Additional tags and warnings: Flirting – Fluff – First meetings – Suggestive Themes

AO3 Link

This is the last thing I'm posting before starting work again. Hopefully, it won't take me too long to find my new rhythm.

You walk around the racks of formal jackets in the men’s wear store that you’re working at and check that all tags are visible and intact to pass the time. It’s a slow afternoon, and you’re bored out of your mind. Only a handful of people are currently in the store, and all of them have declined your offer to help look for something. Which leaves you with doing what you’re doing at the moment. You hold back a deep sigh and a yawn and look to your colleague at the register, who perks up as she sees a couple nearing her with a suit. 

You’re considering checking the inventory, despite knowing that it’s already been taken care of the previous afternoon, since you’d been the one doing it, when someone new walks through the doors. You can’t help staring for a moment as you watch the man stepping towards the most expensive side of the store, his hands skimming over the shoulders of the designer dress shirts. He’s dressed in casual clothes, but they have been carefully selected to highlight each aspect of the man’s body. His pants fit tightly over his hips and his truly deletable behind, while the material flows straighter over his long legs. His shirt hugs his torso and wide shoulders, highlighting the obviously well taken care of body that lies underneath. As you make your way over to him to offer your guidance, you find yourself observing his profile. He has a sharp jawline, a broad but alluring nose, and his lips have an intriguing curve. All of it sits under a mop of soft looking, dark brown hair. 

“Good afternoon,” you address him with a bright, professional smile, and have to clench your teeth together, so you don’t make a weird face or sound once the man has turned to face you. 

He has lovely, soft, brown eyes that also have a playful glint to them. Those eyes follow your finger as you introduce yourself and point to your name tag on the left side of your chest. 

“Welcome to Silhouette. Are you looking for something specific, or should I just let you browse through the store for now?” You’re proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady and professional as always. 

The man’s lips curve into a small, friendly smile, while his head slightly inclines to one side as he looks at you. 

“I’m good right now, but I might take you up on that offer in a minute.” 

“Of course. Just call me if you need anything,” you nod, and point to the section of the store that you take care of.

“Thank you.” The man gives you another charming smile and starts going through the shirt selection. 

“You’re welcome.” You take a few steps backwards before turning around and returning to your spot. 

A few more people enter the store, effectively getting you back to work as you show them to the requested sections or suggesting a specific piece of clothing when asked for your opinion. You keep throwing quick glances at the man from before, in case he’s looking for you. Hoping that he’s looking for you, if you’re being honest. Your job comes with the benefit of also getting to take care of beautiful men at times, and this man is at the top of the list of best-looking men. It’s particularly because of the natural and effortless charm that surrounds him. He holds himself tall and with confidence, but it’s not boastful or arrogant. 

Out of your peripherals, you notice him heading towards the changing rooms, and sigh dejectedly. Looks like he found what he needed without you. With a small twist of disappointment to your lips, you return your focus on the people milling around you in case someone asks for you. 

A few minutes later, one of your colleagues from another section walks up to you. 

“There’s this hot customer asking for you in the changing rooms,” she says with a wide grin. 

Your eyes widen, but you snort at the way your colleague winks at you and her have fun quip. 

You quickly make your way to the changing rooms. Because he’s waiting for you, and not because you’re excited that he called for you. Of course not… Right. You find him in the last one, the curtain to the stall fully open, and you have to physically stop yourself from just plain on staring at all the exposed skin. He’s standing with his back to you, sans shirt, and with only a pair of slacks on that seem a tad too big in the legs but sit perfectly on his behind. Your eyes glide over the smooth looking, tan skin and the tattoo written in Russian over the shoulder blades. You can also see more tattoos through the mirror he’s facing, and something about them makes you frown slightly. You don’t have the time to think more about them, since that’s when you catch his eyes watching you through the mirror, his expression amused. Your face feels warm under his gaze, and you quickly blink as you walk into the stall. 

“You asked for me, sir?” 

“I did,” he smiles as he turns and holds up two shirts. “Which one?” 

You stare at him for a second, confused. You’d thought that he’d need more help than just for choosing a color, but you’re on board with anything he asks. Lowering your eyes from his to look at the two shirts and then at the pants he picked, you frown and twist your lips to one side. You hear him chuckle and meet his gaze again. 

“That bad?” He asks, humor in his eyes. 

“No, both are great, but… if it’s not asking too much, where do you intend to wear this to?” You cross your arms as you think and go over the other colors you know you have for this shirt. 

“I’m meeting a … client for dinner at Nobu’s.”

You make a thoughtful sound at the name of that restaurant. It’s high end, but you can wear more relaxed attire as well. 

“As I said, those shirts would suit you well, but if you’re open to suggestions…” you deliberately trail off and lift your eyebrows at him expectantly. 

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead.” He nods, visibly intrigued, and starts putting the two other shirts back on their respective hangers. 

You turn on your heels and quickly head to the racks where the shirts you’re looking for hang on. You slide them to the side one by one, looking for the color you’d been picturing in your head, and then for the size. He hadn’t told you his size, but it’s your job to figure it out. Finding the one you need, you pull it off the rack and hurry back to the changing rooms, your customer waiting with a curious smile as you close the curtains behind you. He lifts a hand for the shirt, but you remove it from the hanger that you put next to the two others on the right wall, and open the buttons before holding the shirt open for him. He obligingly turns around and lets you slip it over his arms and onto his shoulders, getting you that much closer to him and letting you catch a whiff of the warm fragrance he’s wearing. You step back a few paces and see him looking down at the shirt through the mirror. He turns to face you with a nod of agreement. The color suits him perfectly, and it would look good with the rest of his outfit. You force your eyes away from the skin that’s still showing through the open shirt. He’s not shirtless anymore, but somehow, with the shirt only sitting on his shoulders, he looks even sexier, if that’s even possible. 

He starts buttoning up the shirt, however, and you’re able to breathe a little easier. After fitting the shirt into the pants, his hands go to the cuffs, about to fasten them. 

“Sir? Allow me?” You tentatively ask, motioning to the sleeves. 

He blinks at you in surprise, but nods his assent. You step closer again and take one hand in both of yours to lift it slightly for you to work better on the sleeves. Instead of closing the cuff, you start rolling the fabric over itself, revealing his strong forearms. You have to swallow thickly at their sight. This man has stunning hands and arms. Is anything about him not ridiculously attractive? You repeat the same action with his other sleeve, while trying to ignore his eyes on you. 

“There,” you say at last, and grin at him. “You can move them back down, but also keep them that way and still look perfect for Nobu’s. Fashionable but relaxed.”

He stares down at himself and at his arms, before he turns to the mirror to observe himself. 

“Not bad.” He meets your eyes over his shoulder and nods with a pleased grin. “And it’s Julian, by the way.”

You blink once, twice, before returning his smile.

“Happy I could help, Julian… But…” You take a critical look at the slacks. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to make some adjustments to the pants.” You allow yourself to put your hands over his hips, keeping it professional and only explaining your thoughts. “Here, they fit perfectly.” You go down on one knee and pinch the fabric on the back of his thigh to get the pants to sit tighter. “But I’d take off an inch here. You have long legs, and that would make them stand out more.” 

Julian hums in understanding and pivots to you, getting your face level with his crotch. And, oh. You can tell, just from how the fabric stretches over it, that it’s hiding something impressive. You slowly slide your eyes up, until you reach his, only to find him watching you with curiosity. 

“How long would the changes take? My appointment is tomorrow,” he wonders, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“It can be done by tomorrow. I’ll just have to pin down the fabric and if you’re satisfied, you’ll be free to leave and get everything tomorrow.”

“I’m convinced you’ll make sure I’m satisfied,” he chuckles, with something deeper to it, and oh, he’s definitely flirting now. 

You try to hide the way you want to squirm at his change of tone, your body feeling hotter from it. 

“I will,” you breathe, before clearing your throat and getting up. “I’ll get the pins.” 

You fight the urge to run out of the changing room, glad to leave Julian’s presence before you do something stupid. You take a minute to slowly breathe in and out a few times after reaching the storage room and try to get your focus back before you return to Julian with pins, a notebook, and a measuring tape. 

He’s trying on the jacket over the shirt when you arrive, but removes it and puts it on the hanger after seeing you and waits for your instructions. 

“Just stay still, please.” You close the curtains once again and go to both your knees, this time, to begin pinning the fabric to the length you find more fitting.

You work methodically, jutting down an information or two in the notebook for the seamstress later. You lose yourself in your work, putting a pin between your lips, sliding the material together, taking the pin out of your mouth and carefully placing it in the pants. It helps you to not think about the fact that Julian is watching you throughout the whole process. You can practically feel his eyes on your exposed neck, but you remain concentrated. At least as much as you can once you change to the other leg and notice the slightly more prominent bulge at his crotch. It’s nothing obvious, but your face is right there. You close your eyes and breathe out as inconspicuously as possible, not wanting to show how affected you’re getting by his sheer presence. The fact that he’s reacting to your touch, as work related as you keep it, is having a thrill running through you. It’s obvious that he knows that you’re attracted to him, and it would be embarrassing if he wasn’t reacting to you as well, or behaving as gallantly as he is and not commenting on it. He’s not saying or doing anything besides watching you. You bite over your lower lip with the urge to glance up at him. 

“I’m almost done with the pins,” you comment after another minute, your voice barely louder than a whisper, and finally do look up. 

Heat floods your body. Your neck and face feel hot as you see his expression. His lips are quirked to one side in a faint smirk, not mocking, just highly entertained, but his eyes are alive with intensity, dark with something that has you swallowing hard. 

“Take your time,” he rasps. 

You can only nod and lean your head forward again. You lick your lips and breathe in deeply, before going back to finishing putting the rest of the pins in the pants. Leaning to the side to get the measuring tape, you begin by measuring from heel to knee. You force your hands to not tremble as you slide the tape from his knee to crotch, making sure to not actually touch anything you shouldn’t. You keep your head lowered as much as you can, not wanting Julian to read your emotions on your face. You write down the new information in the notebook sitting between your legs and start again with the other leg. With the curtains drawn and you being so close to him, you find yourself surrounded by his scent, his body exuding warmth from the repeated action of putting clothes on and off. And maybe something else. You can’t begin to image who Julian is, something about his tattoos telling you that there might be some hint of danger, but the pull that he has on you doesn’t feel dangerous at all. 

Taking a few other measurements, you’re done not long after that, and quickly get up without meeting his gaze, trying not to fumble with the tools you’d brought to work as you set them to the side. 

“Alright, you can take the pants off now, and I’ll take them with me. Would you like to purchase the rest of the clothes today, or should I put them to the side for you tomorrow?” You mentally pat yourself on the back for your even voice. 

“I’ll get them all tomorrow, if that’s alright with you.” 

“Of course.”

You see him remove the clothes through the corner of your eyes and purposely keep your back to him as you write more annotations in the notebook, giving him privacy. He hands you the clothes that he’s put back on their hanger, and you take them with a tiny smile and barely a glance at his face. He keeps moving behind you, the rustling sound of fabric continuing while he dresses into the clothes he’d come in with. You’re unfolding the sleeves of the shirt that he’ll be buying and smoothing them out with the thought of ironing the creases out before giving it to him tomorrow, when you feel him right behind you. 

“What time do you get off?” He breathes in a deep rumble right into your ear.

You exhale sharply, your eyes widening. 

“Whenever you decide, sir… I – I mean… At – at 7.” You clasp a palm over your mouth at your automatic response, your body burning with the highest of embarrassments.

Julian stills at your back, before a warm chuckle tickles the back of your neck.

“Is this what you like?” There's no hint of mockery in his tone, just genuine curiosity.

“No! I… I don't know. I… I've never-” you babble, your thoughts a mess. You have no idea where this came from. You only know that under all his sweet smiles, there's something that had you reacting that way.

“Hey, hey. You're alright.” He gently turns you around by the shoulders and makes you look into his kind eyes. “I can give you whatever you want… Whatever you need… But how about we start with dinner?”

Tagging because you've given me the most inspiration with your gifs: @darlingshane @lucy-sky

[mitochondriaandbunnies]

Miami Vice S1E15: Golden Triangle, Part 2

Castillo learns his wife is still alive-- and in Miami.

Let me just start by saying: really getting the sense no one who worked on this show knew that there are multiple countries and cultures in Asia. I'll give them credit for it not being a standard 80's "the East frightens us in a capitalist way" TV show plot, but Castillo is like. A samurai? Who learned how to Samurai in... Thailand. His Thai wife and her new husband and the drug lord who brought them here all seem to have Chinese names, and I feel like somehow this is all supposed to be related to the Vietnam war. Also I'm pretty sure none of the actors in this episode are Thai. I... okay, Miami Vice. Not your best look.

The episode opens on what is apparently supposed to be a flashback to Thailand (but is definitely just Miami) set to Catch the Wind, but not the Donovan version. Castillo is in a speedo and Joan Chen is wet. It's extremely unclear that it's a flashback.

Crockett and Tubbs show up at Castillo's house and Tubbs examines his statue. Castillo explains what's going on and. And. And I'm gonna get into some Old Skool Fandom(TM) heresy here, but: I do not understand Castillo/Crockett when Castillo/Tubbs is right there. Sonny asks about how they can help transactionally ("you've done stuff for us before, we should do stuff for you"): Rico switches to Spanish and asks for Martin to let them in. Tubbs spends the whole episode with his eyes glued to Castillo, and is the one who notices when something is wrong first every time. Sonny barks at Castillo's enemies; Rico waits beside him, gently and persistently trying to get him to open up. Rico drives this whole episode, with Castillo sitting shotgun-- poor Sonny is relegated to the back. Tubbs is 100% ready for this to be Scary Boss Gets Tender With His One Employee Who Gives Him Space to Be Vulnerable and Sonny is still stuck on "the US government is corrupt sometimes."

Castillo tells Sonny and Rico to "call next time" before they show up at his house; they laugh as if he is making a joke. I do not think he is making a joke.

John Santucci is here as a corrupt official and he talks openly about how basically he's in charge of the flow of opium into poor urban communities in the US, and Sonny gets his 10-mile predator stare on. After Dale (Santucci) leaves, Crockett and Tubbs directly confirm with Castillo: so he's an American federal agent who is doing drug crime for profit? Also Miami Vice was just about speedboats and shoulderpads, right

Following up on that, when Castillo meets with Lao Li, the Thai drug lord who Dale is working with, Lao Li basically smiles and says he's not a criminal, just a capitalist, and that he's here to retire in Miami. But it's not political or anything

Of course they undercut this with Castillo saying something like "no it's not, it's Southeast Asia" when C&T say the whole drug thing is "nuts," and it's like. Really, Castillo? You think the problem is the region where economic circumstances created by the US necessitate the sale of drugs to the US? And not the US?

Peter Kwong is here as the shitty teen(?) grandson of the drug lord and there's a scene where he and another grandson literally snicker about how they're going to do SO much crime when Lao Li is like "no one do crime plz"

Castillo is positioned as having an unshakeable sense of duty and loyalty and honor, but when it comes down to it, his code of honor is not the code of honor he claims to be bound to. His sense of duty and the rules he follows are, in fact, rules he follows to the letter-- but they're personal, not societal. He tells Sonny he is a police officer and that he would not do vigilante justice, and then has an entire family and all their associates, including children, put under 24 hour police surveillance because he thinks maybe one of them might do crime eventually. He has nothing to actually get Lao Li arrested for, so he carefully manufactures a situation where Lao Li's hand is forced into killing. What Castillo says (and he doesn't generally say a lot) and does often don't match up, but he's incredibly forceful and convincing. Lao Li recognizes this-- he points out that they're much the same and that he shares great respect for him-- but it's very easy as an audience to be convinced that Castillo is significantly less morally grey than he is. He is absolutely loyal and bound to a code of honor-- but it's the code of honor of a gangster, not the law.

Lao Li definitely tries to play the "maybe this could be an enemies to lovers story wink wink" at the end there and Castillo is like "enemies is good"

My stunning wife Joan Chen is the most beautiful woman on earth and Castillo should've just been like "do you want two husbands." I think Ma Sek would've been into it. And maybe then he wouldn't have gotten involved in crime and Heart of the Night (in which both his actor and Joan Chen are replaced anyway-- Ma Sek's actor is literally replaced with James Saito who plays a different character in this fucking episode) wouldn't have happened

Did we all know John Santucci was a jewel thief before he became an actor? And that he became a thief again when apparently no one other than Michael Mann wanted to hire him? Because I did not

[cryptid-killjoy]

The Rez / ((Back Dated - also please note as Brother Bear uses a fictious and cumulous variety of native American cultures to create the indigenous lore even though they've stepped out of Feral I'm taking them to a ficticious rez and tribe and those will be cumulous too even if anything sounds realistic or has the same names))

Their road trip finally made it to the grounds his father was raised on.

"This is it. This dusty road. We're almost there."

Koda was smiling.

"Home."

Not his home away from, or vacation home, second home, like home, but just simple home. Koda had family. He had places he could go unlike so many others in the circle. He wasn't alone. It made stepping into Feral that much harder. Delta always felt he was a wild card, but he's proven loyal thus far.

When they finally hit civilization the area was run down and there was an old man with nothing on just sitting on a ledge talking to himself.

Koda smirked and waved. The guy waved back. "Nothing's changed." He chuckled to himself and said, "Moose is on the drunk again. Don't worry about him. He just doesn't like tan lines. He's harmless. He always finds his way back home."

And that was her first image of his town, but boy did it have Koda smiling. They'd pass other people, all native, different ages, all moderately dressed, middle to lower class neighborhood style homes, trailors.

"Here we go. This is it." He'd say again as they'd pull up to a little place. What could be noticed quickly was the place was plain, not a lot of personal touches to the outside. There wasn't even grass. If one checked out the windows close enough they'd notice even that was faux. They were for show to look like a normal home on the outside but the real windows were boarded up so no light could get in during the day. This was his uncle's place. There was nothing fancy around because as a vampire he wasn't much into decorating at night when he couldn't admire it during the day. It served no purpose to him.

"Come on. We can finally stretch our legs." He got out of the truck and took a look at the back where his mothers were stored and still frozen ready for ceremony soon. That's what they were here for. It was time. It was long overdue.

He opened the truck door yanking on it hard because it stuck sometimes and then slammed it shut. Then he shook his own legs out as he walked up the steps. He got out his keys. He wasn't even going to knock. That's how home he was. He had his own keys to this place.

"Denahi! Denahi? I'm home. We're here." He called as he pushed the door open.

Of course there was a vampire trap foyer to make sure the light didn't hit. It was a small room to go through with a second door for safety. The rule was always shut the door before opening the next and then everything would be alright even in the day.

"He might be asleep. You know how they are."

He meant vampires of course, but right as he said it an older gentleman came out of the back room.

"No chance. Not with you hollering through the house like that."

He grinned at the boy.

"It's been way too long." There was emotion in both their faces for all to many reasons.

"Besides, you haven't introduced to his purdy lady yet. Bring 'er in Care Bear."

Koda rolled his eyes. "Don't call me that."

"Oh, it's happening. It's never not happening, Care Bear." Then he puled Koda into a big ol' bear hug, pardon the pun.

Then since Koda hadn't quite managed to intro Elsa yet the vampire made his way in front of that blonde lady and gave her a smile too. "Well hello there. I don't know what a fine woman like you is doing with a boy like this, but I sure am glad to meetcha. I'm his uncle. Denahi Skies. I'm the wolf totem of this here Crow Clan."

"Alright, alright, wise one. You sure you didn't get the peacock?"

"Funny, funny. Now who do we have here?" If she would take his hand to shake it she'd notice that same ice cold of the dead as she had before with the last vampire she'd known. This was an aged vampire and blinking rather well, learned to fake the human condition rather well like pretending to breathe even though he did not need to. But, he couldn't hide the paleness of his skin no matter the tone of his heritage. Dead still looked dead. There was strange sheen to vampire's skin that could not be mistaken as normal. The only reason half of them got away with walking around like normal people was because they were out in the darkness sheilding them from full view.

[callsign-daydream]

Head in the Clouds, Eyes to the Sun - Chapter 1 - Introductions

Series summary: Lt. Hallie "Daydream" A-Jones is the newest addition to the now-permanent Dagger Squadron. But when she arrives back in her hometown of San Diego, returning to TOPGUN may be harder than she expected. Will she manage to find her way back to the skies? Chapter Summary: Hallie receives her latest orders; it's time to pack up her bags and move back home to the States. After all, she is the newest recruit to the Dagger Squadron!

Warnings: Starred out swearing, mentions of alcohol, General Navy/Military inaccuracies, OC-centric fic, don't think too hard about the timeline because what is time but a construct anyway

Word count: 2174

A/N: Welcome to "Head in the Clouds, Eyes to the Sun"! This series follows my OC, Hallie "Daydream" A-Jones and how she joins the Dagger Squadron, etc. I'm not sure how many parts this will be yet, but I'm still playing with how to break the chapters. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Introductions

Captain Stafford's office didn't have the same air of foreboding other offices did. Maybe it was the relaxed persona of the Italians that rubbed off on him or the warmth of the southern sun, but his office almost crossed into inviting. If you were on his good side, he might even allow you to have something from his North American snack stash. It was a perk having a Captain whose callsign came from keeping cookies in his locker.

Still, even the scent of espresso in the room didn't prevent Lt. Hallie A-Jones from being nervous as she entered the room.

“At ease, Daydream.” Captain Stafford, or Captain "Chip" as his pilots referred to him, said. He must've noticed her posture staying rigid as he added: “You’re not in trouble. The opposite, actually.”

“Sir?”

He held up a hand and motioned for her to sit. “You’re being reassigned from Sigonella.”

Hallie's mind began spinning. This seemed like a punishment. She’d grown to love the Italian base and the people there. It wouldn’t be easy after being stationed there for five years.

Captain Chip leaned his arms on the desk, and his smile rose into familiar wrinkles. “We’ll miss you here, but I think you’ll appreciate going home.”

Hallie blinked. “Home? I'm going stateside?”

“Even better. You’re being called back to TOPGUN.”

That was a name she hadn't heard in a while, but thankfully, the memories that arose brought her a smile. She'd grown up in San Diego, making TOPGUN feel like one of the most natural places on earth for her to end up. She wasn't sure what assignment would warrant her going back, especially at this point in her career, but she couldn't complain.

"Can I ask what my assignment is?"

He nodded. “A month ago, a team was assembled at TOPGUN for a special mission. You were on the shortlist of candidates, and near the top of the list too, but because you were busy on assignment, I wasn’t able to approve you for it."

Hallie wondered why he hadn't mentioned it on her when she returned. It must've been a very short mission.

"But, it looks they decided to keep the squadron together permanently for special assignments, and they have a space open. Also coincidentally, you're off assignment now. They want to add you on as the newest member of the Dagger Squadron, and I signed off on it right away.”

"Is this a nice way to get me out of your hair?"

"Not at all," Captain Chip said with a laugh that sounded like an air gun. He stood, came around his desk, and sat on the edge of it. "Listen, Hallie. As your Captain, I'm not thrilled to be losing you. You're an outstanding pilot. That's why they want you for this. But as someone who flew with your father before he passed...I can't hold you back on your career."

Hallie bit her lip. She wasn't sure if the urge to cry was from her Captain's sentiment or simply the memories of her father before his illness.

"Thanks, Captain Chip."

“You’ll report two weeks from now to Captain Pete Mitchell, "Maverick," at the TOPGUN facility.”

“Maverick? As in…?”

“The same one.” He nodded. “You'll get more information in the next two weeks. Any other questions? I'm sure you have a lot of preparations to make."

Hallie stood and shook her head, feeling much lighter than when she sat down. "Thank you again."

She wanted to hug her commanding officer, but it didn't exactly seem like the right time. As quickly as she thought of it, he circled back around his desk.

"I'd let you take some Chips Ahoy, but you'll have plenty of access to those soon enough."

Hallie chuckled. "Yes, sir."

"Get out of here, kid."

--- “Dagger Squadron” sounded familiar to Hallie, and she later confirmed she already knew two of her new squadmates. She'd flown with Bob before, and she also knew Phoenix. Hallie and Phoenix had been two years apart at TOPGUN, and even though Hallie was behind, she'd bonded with the fellow female aviator. They'd also been stationed in Lemoore for a couple years together before Hallie was moved to Sigonella for the Unified Protector operation.

Hallie wasn’t sure if Phoenix still had the same phone number or if she'd be able to receive an international text, so Hallie quickly reached out via Instagram:

Hallie A-Jones: Hey Fee, how’s San Diego?

The reply came a few hours later, thanks to the time difference.

Natasha Trace: Hey, Dream. Just the usual business. What’s going on in the land of pasta? Hallie A-Jones: Same, though about to shake things up soon. Getting reassigned Natasha Trace: You know where yet? Hallie A-Jones: Top Gun Natasha Trace: No way. Daggers? Hallie A-Jones: Dead serious, be there in 2 weeks Natasha Trace: Good, I’ve needed another woman here since Halo reassigned You need a ride when you get in? Hallie A-Jones: That’d be great, my brother can’t bring my Jeep down until the weekend after Natasha Trace: Gotcha I’ll bring Bob, we can all catch up and have a celebration at the Hard Deck Hallie A-Jones: ****, this whole thing will be a throwback Natasha Trace: HA, you can bet on that Hallie A-Jones: Looking forward to it Thanks again, I’ll send you the times later 🙂 Natasha Trace: 👍

--- Over the next two weeks, Hallie reminisced with her fellow Sigonella pilots, made arrangements for her return to San Diego, and texted Phoenix to get the rundown of what the culture of the Dagger Squadron was. The squadron at Sigonella threw a farewell party full of poorly pronounced Italian songs, alcohol, and plenty of opportunities for Hallie to grow her photo album.

A couple days later, Hallie was walking off a plane and into the heat of San Diego.

“Is this a daydream?” Natasha joked as they met in the parking lot.

Hallie laughed. “Must be. I'm looking at a weird bird made of fire.”

They hugged before Natasha gestured to Bob, who was squinting through his glasses, a hand over his eyes.

"Bob!" Hallie hugged him. "Long time, no fly."

"Good to see you, Hal." He grinned. "Hope your feelings about pineapple on pizza didn't change."

"Ugh, the Italians nearly pulverized me my first day because of that."

Bob laughed, but was interrupted by Nat slamming the trunk closed over Hallie's bags. "You two can talk in the car. Let's go."

"Why are we rushing, again?" Bob complained, but was obediently climbing into the backseat anyway.

"Because," Nat started up the car, "I want to get this girl to the Hard Deck before Hangman and Coyote."

Hallie cocked her head as she clicked the seat belt and the AC blew her stray curls around. "Hangman...sounds familiar."

Nat nodded. "The record."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"What happened?" Bob asked.

Phoenix glanced back at her WSO in the rearview mirror. "Daydream here broke one of Bagman's training records after he graduated TOPGUN."

The grin was evident in Bob's voice. "Drive faster."

Natasha laughed. Hallie grabbed the ceiling handle as they drove around a corner. In reality, they weren't going that fast, but it'd become instinct in Italy.

The ocean appeared on their left. The scent made its way into the AC, and Hallie grinned. She couldn’t wait to have her Jeep so she could drive this path on her own with the top down. It was the closest she could get to flying whenever she was on the ground. She often thought if she wasn’t a pilot, she would’ve been a racecar driver, even though she found the inner organs of planes easier to understand than the tiny workings of any car.

Hallie looked over at her driver. “So I should be prepared for a dogfight tonight?”

“Weird flirting first,” Nat said. Her eye roll was big enough to be seen behind her sunglasses. “After that…”

“Yes,” Bob finished.

The conversation continued on, including some quick information on the rest of the squad. They'd just finished describing Rooster when Nat pulled into the Hard Deck parking lot.

Nat and Bob were out and headed for the front door immediately. Hallie lagged behind. The old place looked the same, except with a new paint job. The wind whipped at her hair and the ocean murmured behind the building. It was strange to be back in a place that had claims to at least five pages of her photo album. It was as though she'd opened it up and stepped into one of the photos like Mary Poppins. As Hallie watched Nat and Bob, she quickly took a picture to capture the feeling for her album.

“Hurry up!” Nat turned at the right time to get her face in the shot.

The scent of wood and alcohol met them. Whitney Houston's voice drifted from the jukebox. There were only a few other pilots in the bar so far, creating a soft murmur of activity, and Penny herself behind the counter clinking glasses back into place.

“You’re here early,” the woman noted as Nat and Bob came up. Her gaze shifted to Hallie. “And you brought a familiar face.”

Hallie grinned. “You remember me?”

Penny scoffed. “How can I not remember the girl who stood on the piano singing ‘Dancing Queen’?”

“Maybe I’ll do an encore for you tonight. I can sing it in Italian now.”

Penny shook her head. “You always had to get the attention, Hal.”

“We’re expecting a lot of that,” Nat said.

Bob nodded with a grin that might have been called cheeky without his glasses.

Penny shook her head. “Just keep my place in one piece. You know the rules.”

The older woman nodded towards her sign. Hallie made a mental note to keep her phone in her pocket at all times.

“We’ll be good," Nat said. "We have Bob to keep us in line.”

“Right. The usual for you and glasses?”

Nat nodded.

“Hal, you got some fancy Italian taste now?”

“Just give me what Nat's having,” Hallie said. “I’ve missed the American taste.”

“Glad to hear it.”

With drinks in tow, the trio retreated to what Phoenix deemed their “usual” spot. Hallie collected a selfie with her friends as the regulars of the Hard Deck began to trickle in. She could spot familiar types; the students brand new to Top Gun, nervous and jittery and loud; the ones about to graduate, calmer and not inebriated enough to be loud yet; a few older captains, especially one that seemed attached to Penny; and some civilians there for a good drink, a handsome pilot, or both.

They were shortly joined by two more pilots, who Nat introduced as Fanboy and Payback.

“How’d you get that callsign?” Payback asked Hallie.

Hallie grinned. “Cause I’m a dream in the sky.”

Nat laughed and shoved her. “You wish.”

“Okay, fine. I may have...gotten lost in thought...during a few training exercises in my first year here.”

"Lost in thought? You were totally zoned out, from what Halo said."

Hallie shoved Nat back.

The group laughed, continuing to share stories and rag each other. Nat started up a pool game with Payback when two more men came up to the group.

“Well, well, well,” said the blonde. “What do we have here?”

Nat had mentioned the southern accent so Hallie would know which one was Hangman, but Hallie would’ve been clued in anyway from the way Nat and Bob frowned upon the man’s arrival. That, and the cocky smirk that was just begging to be wiped off.

“You must be Bagman,” Hallie said with a smile.

“Hangman,” he corrected, smirk intact. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

“In more ways than one.”

“Glad to know we’ve got a head start. What’s your callsign, hun?”

Nat stepped up. “This is our new Dagger. Daydream.”

Hangman’s eyebrows twitched in thought, as though a spark were making the connection for him. Then the smirk slowly returned.

“Glad you’ll be here when I take that record back.” He leaned in.

Hallie didn’t back down. “Me too. I’ll be right behind you to break it again.”

Hangman opened his mouth to reply, but was quickly cut off.

“Bradshaw!" Nat yelled. "Get over here!"

Hallie turned to see a mustached man with aviators and a Hawaiian shirt on, immediately connecting Bob's description to the individual as Rooster. He strolled up and hugged Nat.

"Alright, what makes me in such high demand tonight?" He asked her. "I need to do laundry if you don't want me smelling like ham tomorrow."

"That's just your normal smell, Rooster," said Payback.

Nat rolled her eyes, but kept a grin unlike she did when Hangman talked. She drug Rooster over to Hallie and quickly introduced them.

"You know what this calls for," he said, laundry evidently forgotten.

Hallie cocked her head while Phoenix grinned and drug her along behind him. In a few minutes, most of the crew was assembled around the piano. Rooster pounded out "Great Balls of Fire” as everyone scream-sung along, Hallie sitting on top of the piano and occasionally adding in some Italian: “Goodness gracious, grande palle di inferno!”

It was good to be home.