#but it feels good to finally be organised lmao

[nomelwelloy]

question

do people usually reblog their master list whenever they update it? Or find the og post and update that and leave it as it is?

feel free to share (*☻-☻*)

#would just like to hear some ideas #I’m trying to utilise this master list thing proper #but it feels good to finally be organised lmao #delete later? #interaction

[finniestoncrane]

Date, Digger Style

KTJL!Boomer x Fem!Reader, word count: 6k hi i am sorry, this was supposed to be like. a lil silly thing about what a first date with george might be like. and it ended up being 6k words. i just want him so bad it makes me look stupid quite honestly and i am ok with that 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: sleazy behaviour, groping, tongue kissing, just the tip and then not just the tip but agreeably so, lots of physical affection, reader has tits and a vagina, reader is referred to with feminine pet names, descriptions of a gross kitchen, also let's pretend that he's always a lil bit drunk so his drunk driving seems like the normal state of things. he's a villain. he's allowed to break laws lmao (and it's fiction, so i'm allowed to decide what alcohol does to him)

Sitting on the edge of your sofa, you took a quick look at your phone to check the time and to see if you had missed any messages. Nothing. Not even a quick courtesy text with "on my way" typed hastily, or auto filled. You'd been sitting there for twenty minutes already, with no sign of George. If this was what he considered a good start to your first formal 'date' then you two were perhaps too different after all to make this work. He was laid back, to a flaw. Horizontal. And you were more organised, at least more so than George Harkness.

Just as you began typing out a message, you heard the tell-tale screech of the tyres on his van, followed by the rumbling of the engine as he put the brakes on and came out of the creaking door. The sharp buzz at your door was enough for you to know your suspicions were right, and without answering it, you headed downstairs. At the door, you could see Digger, picking at his teeth and tucking the stray strands of hair back under the rim of his hat before he noticed you and struck a pose, goofy smile plastered onto his face.

He moved to grab you when you met him on the steps leading up to your building, but you dodged him, spitting his nickname at him.

"Digger."

"Aw, are you mad cos I'm late? You're not some bloody princess, I think you can wait five minutes!"

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty, the- Twenty!?"

His eyes were wide as he looked to you, and you offered a solemn and unimpressed nod in response.

"Fuck... alright, that is a bit much. This'll be worth it though, I promise."

Raising an eyebrow, you silently questioned that. You'd known him for a while now, skirted around the conversation, flirted constantly, but turned him down at every offer of a date. And now, when you had finally agreed and given in to his constant pestering, he was going to show up late and not even dressed differently or in clean clothes? You weren't sure it would be worth it. But, if all else failed, you could always count on him to make you laugh, or at very least conjure up a smile. And despite wanting to still maintain an exterior of disappointment, you could feel the corners of your mouth lifting as he opened up the passenger door and gestured to it with his arm, bowing low.

"M'lady, your carriage awaits."

As you stepped up and into the front of the van, the smell was the first thing that hit you. Stale beer, sweat, and about five other scents just indistinct enough to elude your keen nose. Trying not to think about it, you turned to grab your seatbelt and noticed, out of the corner of your eye, that the back of the truck was filled with empty beer cans and bottles, piles of clothing, some dirty and some clean. And in the middle of it all, a mattress, some pillows, and a scattering of sheets.

"Do you live in here?"

"Don't worry about it, babe."

Before you could ask him any follow up questions, he pulled away from the kerb with a stuttering acceleration, and carelessly pulled into traffic. After a few minutes of teeth grinding, life-threatening driving at high speed, he pulled off the main roads and began taking back streets.

Granted, you didn't know where you were going yet, since Digger was insistent on keeping it as a surprise, you still assumed that after ten minutes of nothing but roads dotted with potholes and routes plagued by speedbumps that it was surely quicker to have stayed on the main route until you were closer. However, it became clear that there were intentions behind this path after all, when you turned to question George about the route and found him quickly glancing from the road to your chest, smiling wider every time a bump jostled your body, causing your breasts to jiggle. With a heavy sigh, you turned to look out of the window, concealing the smile that threatened to give away your façade. There was no way you could let him know how oddly flattering you found his constant gawking, that would be a nightmare.

When the van stopped at a red light, you spoke, still looking out of the window, to try and get Digger to tell you where you were going.

"I just would feel better knowing how long we've got left to drive is all."

He reached over to you, placing his hand on your thigh and pressing his fingers and thumb together, squeezing the ample flesh.

"Listen, don't worry about it, we're almost there."

His palm pressed down and skimmed further up your leg, and as you turned to catch his eye, hoping to at least shame him into not continuing his bold heavy petting, you were instead met with his lopsided, careless grin. With one hand on the steering wheel and one permanently on your thigh, he continued driving for another ten minutes, until you were well on the outskirts of the city. When the van finally stopped, you could still hear the tinny rumbling and sharp clinking of the empty bottles and cans bashing around in the back, feeling like it had shrilly inserted itself permanently into your head. But once you had stepped out of the van and the fresh air, plus the odd stench, hit you, you could hear yourself think clear enough to know that you were definitely beginning to regret this decision once more.

"Told ya we wouldn't be much longer! We're here!"

"Where is here?"

"About twenty minutes outside Gotham."

"Digger."

He slapped his hand on your back and pulled you into a side hug, dragging you along as he walked towards the door of the flat roof building with broken neon lights that stood in front of you.

"Ah, come on babe! Get a sense of humour, or you'll always look fuckin' miserable!"

You weren't sure if he could hear your sighing over the sound of the gravel as you made your way to the front door, and he definitely couldn't hear the louder second one you let out when you got inside. The one that was cut short when you realised you could taste the smell that lingered on the air.

Taking your hand, an oddly gentle move from Digger. The moment was gone quickly when he smacked your ass as he ushered you into the dingiest looking booth at the back of the bar.

"George, really? Here?"

"Yeah, babe! This place is great. Cheap beer, good food. I promise, you just gotta trust me, alright?"

Taking a quick look around the place told you otherwise. But there was just something about him you found hard to say no to. Which you imagined would land you in much bigger problems later on, but for now, potential food poisoning and a hangover of the worst order seemed like a fair risk for what would no doubt be a fun night regardless. It always was with George.

"Aw, I know that face! You're on board! Right, I'm gonna go to the bar and get us some drinks and food."

"I don't know what I want though, I haven't looked at the menu."

"Don't have to, I'm getting us the usual. You'll like it, tr-"

"Trust you, yes, I know."

With a wink, he slid out of the booth and you watched him make his way to the bar, leaning on it with his oh-so-cocky attitude as he ordered for you. And when he sat back down, he slid a pint in front of you and began chugging at his own. Looking over the tip of your glass as you sipped, you tried to get a glimpse at the kitchen. From what you could see, it looked like the kind of place that might give any decent health inspector an aneurysm. The chef's clothes were dirty, the walls were a stained yellow colour that seemed as though it was dripping down the walls, and every surface had a strange assortment of crumbs and stains on it. But still, you persevered.

And still, when the plates were slammed down on the table in front of you by the uninterested waitress, you were optimistic. Because you were determined to have a nice time. It was likely that which annoyed you the most of all, because the moment you bit into the greasy sandwich you didn't care in the slightest what kind of health hazard it was prepared in. You just wanted more.

"See, told you it was good."

Nodding in agreement, mouth too full to speak, you swallowed down the rest of the sandwich, although by the time you had finished it and your accompanying beer, Digger was already onto his third pint, and the sandwich was but a memory. Until he burped and you could smell it on his breath, something he found hilarious.

"Lighten up! You try, give it your best shot."

"I'm not having a burping contest with you, George. We're on a date."

"Yeah, but you're on a date with Digger. Way more fun, far less stuffy. Go on."

You mustered up the best you had to offer, cheese and beer and lettuce the most noted flavours in the air you expelled. Closing his eyes for a moment, Digger reached out across the table and took your hands.

"That was, without a doubt... the most pathetic fuckin' burp ever. We gotta get you another drink!"

Before you could say anything, he was already shuffling out of the booth and shakily making his way back to the bar. A bad decision being made and you couldn't really stop him. He could handle his alcohol, definitely, you'd seen him do it a number of times before. Digger could put away what might kill a lesser, for want of a better word, man. But it didn't make him any easier to be around. You'd already found yourself flushing hot, cheeks darkening, a heat building in your stomach with each lingering touch or flirtatious stare. So far this evening, you'd almost kissed him twice. It wasn't going to be any easier to prolong what you felt was the inevitable if he got far too drunk and became his usual, handsy self.

Of course, that's exactly what did happen. One more pint in and Digger was all over you in the booth. He'd leaned in at first to say something to you, speaking over the noise of the bar, close to your ear, his arm reaching up and around you and pulling you close and then keeping you there. As his fingers stroked at your shoulder, the other hand fell to your thigh, periodically squeezing it between his fingers and thumb. And every time you got distracted by how far up your thigh he was snaking his palm, fingers splayed out, pinkie grazing over your crotch, his other hand would pull your attention away as his fingertips skimmed over the top of your breasts.

It was difficult to try and hold him off. You were both tipsy, or at least you were tipsy, Digger seemed to be wasted. No good decision could come from that. But the way he touched you, the way he smelled as he leaned in, sweat, cheap body spray, acrid beer, it was intoxicating. If you'd been any less sober you might have leaned in then and there in the booth to kiss him, tasting the alcohol on his tongue, letting him put his hands all over you, anywhere, anywhere. But luckily, before you could make what you knew was a mistake, he sat back and laughed, one loud and sharp 'ha'.

"I fuckin' love this song, babe! C'mon!"

Before you could argue otherwise, you were being dragged out of the booth to join Digger on the tiny dance floor in front of the band. The song was difficult to dance to, at least you had assumed, given the heavy rock riffs that underlined the inaudible, high volume lyrics. But George wasn't deterred. It was almost endearing, how horrendously embarrassing he was, standing there with his air guitar, throwing goat horns at the band as he bounced on the spot. Cute, nearly. But mercifully cut short as the song ended.

"Aw, just as I was finding my groove."

You smiled at him, rubbing his shoulder in sympathy, biting your inner cheek as you felt how strong he was, impressed by his muscular arm as you let your hand slip down to graze over it.

"A real shame, George. Let's go back to- "

The band started up again, this time, a slower song, one that lent itself well to the kind of 'end of prom' vibes all young lovers were hoping for. And before you could finish your suggestion of heading back to the booth, Digger had pulled you close, his arms around your back, falling to your waist as he swayed back and forth. It could have been dancing, it could have been the uncoordinated shuffling of a man who had one too many beers, but either way, you leaned into it, allowing your head to rest against his chest while you placed your hands, linked together, at the nape of his neck.

It was almost too romantic, in its own, strange way. The dim lights, the other couples around you, the unique twang on the guitars, the stench of the greasy food, and the way George kept his hips, his crotch, pressed tight to you as you leaned against him. Not particularly from a storybook romance, but perfect all the same. You'd known this would happen. One date, and you were already falling for him. Not because of anything he'd done, but because deep down you knew you had been into him, since almost the moment you'd met. But you'd fought it, because men like George Harkness, you assumed, weren't the kind of nice boy you dated.

But here he was, holding you, swaying you, sighing softly as the music swelled. Granted the movements weren't exactly graceful, but they were surprisingly fluid, as though he might be good at dancing when he was sober. Yet another surprise for you to learn about, but obviously not right now. He was trying though, his hands at a respectable height, his head leaning on your shoulder. Every so often, he nuzzled into your cheek, placing a soft kiss to it when the notion took him. And when the song finished, you could hear his words clear, spoken gently into your ear.

"You wanna head out?"

You weren't sure if that was "out" as in "get some fresh air" or "out" as in "let's head home, yours or mine" but either option seemed good. The last remaining bit of sun and a soothing breeze might be enough to sober George up before you brought him back in for more dancing. And if it didn't, you were happy to take him to your place for a coffee, nothing more. Although, you were potentially considering letting him sleep on the sofa. You couldn't imagine how difficult it would be to nurse a hangover in the back of his van.

Outside, finally able to breathe without choking on the stench or the thickness of the air, you watched as Digger shielded his eyes from the sky. His stumbling stopped, and he began walking with his usual confidence, almost sobering up immediately in the light of the day.

"Christ! Still pretty bright out here..."

"Yeah, it's not that late. You tapping out early, George?"

"Nah, nah. Not at all! If I've got you for the night, then I'm havin' you for the night. C'mon, I know a place."

Admittedly, and strangely enough, you really hadn't had enough of him yet. It was one of the few things you agreed on, actually. This was supposed to be a date, you'd set aside the evening for it, so you were keen to make it last as long as possible. You couldn't let George know that, though. Keeping the upperhand seemed to be key with him, so you offered him a reluctant smile and rolled your eyes dramatically.

"Well, I suppose so."

Stepping up into the passenger seat of his van you caught him smiling back at you, knowingly. You weren't kidding him, he wasn't as stupid as he seemed at first pass, but he was kind enough to let you keep up the ruse. It didn't stop him getting a little dig in at you, however.

"Are you sure? If you're not keen I can take you home, babe. Wouldn't want you to be bored or something."

"And where are you planning on taking me that isn't boring, then?"

"Eh... just a little spot I know of. Quiet, secluded. Up that back road to the overlook. But again, if you're not into it..."

"No, no. It sounds... well, it doesn't sound boring, anyway."

Digger laughed, starting up the van which groaned horrendously before sputtering to life. Before he drove off, he turned to you and winked.

"Definitely won't be, it never is with me, babe."

Pulling out of the parking lot, he turned away from the city and onto the quieter roads which led out past the city lines and into the expansive countryside that secluded Gotham from the rest of the world. From the window, you watched the sun slowly setting, clouds turning purple and navy as they pushed in from the sides like curtains on a stage show. You had all the time in the world to gaze peacefully, as George was driving in complete silence, way below the speed limit, focusing intensely on the road. He'd seemed to sober up once you were out of the bar, but you didn't want to distract him while he was doing his best to keep you both alive.

The van bounced along a short dirt trail until it stopped in a small clearing, surrounded by trees on all sides and far above the dim, intrusive glow of the city, which buzzed against the now deep, navy sky. Shutting off the engine, George turned and shot you a smile, eyebrows raised playfully, before he leapt out. He walked quickly to the back of the van and you followed, waiting patiently as he opened the two back doors wide, finally giving you a better look at what had been rolling around there the whole time he had been driving.

There wasn't much you could think to say, being of the opinion that you should only speak if you had kind things to say. From where you were standing, you could definitely tell that you had been correct in your earlier assumptions. This was where he lived. His rolling apartment. Convenient, yes. But it was a long way away from being one of the trendy 'tiny homes' you'd seen. The walls were adorned with four posters in total, all of them the kind of cheap standards you would expect in the bargain bin of some ancient music store, miscellaneous women in very little clothing gazing out as seductively as they could from the airbrushed backdrops. On the floor, there was a stick and poke tattoo kit that looked like it might be the source of several new variants of hepatitis, and it was littered with empty beer bottles and cans, some of which may have been half-full at the point he decided to drive off given how sticky the surfaces looked. And to top it off, there was a worn out mattress. No sheets on it, no sheets around it save for one scruffy blanket. It was covered in stains that you couldn't quite place, which matched the single, dented and almost flat pillow that lay haphazardly to the side.

"You live like this?"

That was what you had wanted to say, but again, your polite nature stopped you.

"Handy to just get in the van and sleep, or get out of bed and go."

George smiled, looking oddly proud of himself.

"See, you get it. You won't believe the amount of people who have been put off by- uh... well..."

He looked to the ground, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand.

"Not that there's been that many people I've invited into- A-and not that there haven't been any people that have been-"

"George."

You placed a hand on his shoulder and raised your eyebrows, offering him a sympathetic grin. He took the out, thankful that you'd put an end to his suffering, and reached in for the blanket, placing it flat over the top of the bed before offering his hand to you. Taking it, he helped you shift yourself into the back of the van, watching as you got comfortable on the mattress as best as you could, at which point he joined you.

Leaning back on his arms, he looked to the sky, sitting in silence for a few minutes. You had joined him, watching the stars start to sparkle as they became visible against the darkening backdrop. At some point, you realised that he was staring at you, and you wondered how long you'd had his gaze trained on the side of your head. Not on any other part of your body, you noted. He was looking at your face, gazing at your eyes. When you turned, you caught his stare immediately, smiling softly when he blinked and looked away with a cough meant to clear the air of the awkwardness he was bringing about.

Rooting around behind him, he eventually found two unopened beer cans, both of which were loose amongst the rest of his belongings. Keeping one for himself, he passed the other to you. He raised his, tipping his head with a 'cheers' and then cracked it open. You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, a small trickle of foam slipping past his lips and down his chin. The urge to lean in and lick it off was disturbing, most of all because you felt yourself moving towards him before you even realised it. Settling back down into the strange romance of the moment, you pulled the tab on your own can.

The immediate explosion, the build up of pressure and gasses from the can being jostled around as you drove up the bumpy, dirt track to the spot you now sat in, left you in shock. Your shirt was soaked, completely, and the cool air was already beginning to chill your body. You blinked in shock, watching as Boomer tried to conceal his giggles while he stood up.

"Take your shirt off."

Looking to him, you raised an eyebrow, a look that said "is this really how you're going to make that move?" in a way that he read almost straight away. He began unzipping his blue hoodie, turning from you and passing it behind him, generously, and uncharacteristically, offering you some privacy.

Taking it from him, you quickly made the swap, your body exposed to the cold night air only briefly before you zipped up the hoodie, still warm from Digger's body. You tucked your bra and shirt under the mattress, making a mental note to collect them before you were home, hoping they would be dry. Making sure the zip was up completely, not offering any suggestive cleavage for Digger to hook his ideas into, you settled yourself, noticing that you were smiling. You could smell him on the fabric that covered your body. Beer, sweat, lingering smoke, an acrid smell you couldn't quite place and a sweet one on top of that. As the fabric grazed over you, you could feel your nipples hardening. It wasn't the cold though, it was faint arousal at the way you felt so close to him.

"You done yet, you're only putting a hoodie on!"

"Shit, yeah, sorry."

"I can look?"

He raised his hands, pulling them from his pockets and holding them up to his side, questioningly.

"Mhm, yeah."

When he was facing you again, he let his lips turn into an appreciative expression.

"Looks good. Suits you!"

Thudding back down beside you, George immediately lifted his arm up, wrapping it around your body and pulling you close. You found yourself settling into the hug, a natural embrace, one that made your heart flutter slightly as you let your head rest entirely against him. And then it happened, the moment that secured your confusion about him and his intentions. He sighed wistfully. So deep and joyous, his fingers digging into your arm to let you know you were the reason for the warmth spreading through him.

"It's nice out here, you can actually see the stars. Couldn't tell you what any of them were though."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

He turned slightly to look at you.

"What?"

"What? What are you doing? You brought me up here to look at the stars?"

George narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing in confusion and slight irritation.

"Yeah! I thought it would be romantic!"

"Exactly!"

"Exa-... what?"

"You're so confusing. This whole evening, you yourself, it's not how I thought it would be. I mean, it wouldn't be you without the occasional grope and cheeky wink, but you've been so... You're so... It's weird to see you being so..."

Digger's hand fell to your thigh, a light pressure aiming to calm you down.

"So what?"

You couldn't answer it, because you weren't even able to settle on a definitive answer yourself.

So confusing?

So disgusting?

So gentlemanly?

So romantic?

So hot?

All of that and more.

And when words had failed you, you decided that you'd have to express your feelings another way.

It was less of a romantic, graceful move and more that you sank into him, falling against his body, your lips luckily making contact with his as you both found your way in the kiss. Neither of you expected it, both of you surprised. The tenderness, the hunger behind it. You could taste everything about him, smell him even better than you had when you had put on his hoodie. You expected he was experiencing the same.

Digger fell back, his hands catching your waist as he pulled you with him, both of you laying now on the mattress in the back of his van. His hands pawed, grabbed, skimmed over you, oddly restrained in fact. That was until you shifted yourself up and onto him, straddling his hips and staring down at him, panting heavily as you both caught your breath and took stock of the situation you were now in. His hands on your waist made their way up to your shoulders, your neck, cupping your cheeks as he grinned at you. Watching your face, your expression, for any subtle changes as he let his hands trail back down your front, fingers catching on to the zip of his hoodie and pulling it down slowly, opening it to expose you to him before he cupped at your breasts as you bit your lip.

"Fuck me..."

Digger let out a low groan that followed his short, to the point statement. His fingers circled your nipples, tightening around them as he teased you. His hips bucked up, jostling you, letting you feel how hard he was. You could tell just from that motion that the rumours about how gifted he was had truth behind them.

Bending down to kiss him again, you let your tongue slip past his lips, his own meeting in your mouth. He tasted divine. Sweet, but acidic. Earthy almost, definitely addictive. Everything felt dream like, surreal. Mostly, you assumed, because you were doing something you'd never dream of, something you knew was ill-advised, a little bit silly, embarrassing in the right company. But it was hard to care.

You were quickly brought out of the dream like state however, as you felt Digger's hands between both of your crotches, unbuckling his belt and fiddling with the zipper on his jeans.

"Wait... on the first date? You think you've charmed me enough for that?"

With the smug, self-satisfied grin you had grown oddly fond of, George looked into your eyes as he spoke.

"I think you started this, so it's a pretty good indication of how much I've charmed you."

He winked as he let his fingers tug at the waistband of your own pants, pulling at them as you leaned in to another kiss. Your attempts to stop him, or at least to pretend that was your intention, were put to one side as your body reacted to the feeling of the cool air against your bare skin, his hands, rougher than you expected, holding your thighs, pulling your pants down further until he needed you to move.

"Well... have I charmed the pants off you at least?"

Smiling back at him, you nodded your head from side to side as though you were weighing up his efforts over the evening.

"I suppose you have charmed the pants off me, yes. But... I'm not sure how much further your winning personality has gotten you."

"There's plenty of time for me to catch up, then."

Clumsily, and with very little grace, you shifted and removed your pants, blushing as you noticed Digger watching you intensely, taking note of every movement, every second of you undresssing, as though you were offering him the performance of a lifetime. As you steadied yourself, he hooked his fingers into the band of your underwear and pulled you back to him, landing you flat on top o f his body, your hands on his chest.

Teasing at the band of your panties, he dipped two fingers underneath the fabric, skating over your mound and down to your lips, stroking them gently before spreading them apart. He rubbed one finger up and down, collecting your slick as he licked his lips, desperate to know how you tasted. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he ran them on his tongue, sucking them with his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me."

He continued unzipping his pants and pulling them down, boxers included, to reveal his more than impressive cock. At least ten inches, easily, thick, perfect, topped with a tuft of almost flaming red hair. Trying to control yourself, you leaned back.

"What are you planning on doing with that, Harkness?"

He squirmed, pressing his eyes shut and biting his lip before he managed to strain himself enough to speak.

"I just want... I want you... touch it... feel you... something... come on, please!"

Shuffling forward, teasing him knowingly as you felt his head, his length, against your thighs, you mused out loud, humming as though you were actually considering it, as though you hadn't already made your mind up yet.

"I suppose... this was a pleasant enough date. I could give you something, throw you a bone."

He nodded furiously below you, muttering his words of agreement.

"But! Just the tip. I'm not sure how much more of that I could take. It should come with a warning."

George actually blushed, looking away from you for a moment, as though the comment had genuinely embarrassed him. It did seem odd to you in that moment that he wasn't constantly bragging about his prowess in that area. He struck you as exactly the kind of person who would mention the size of his cock at any opportunity. You wondered if had the effect on others that it had on you. It was daunting, a little bit nerve-wracking. How many of the few people who had made it this far had given up at the sight of it, you wondered.

Most, you assumed, as despite how desperate he seemed to fuck you, he agreed enthusiastically, happy to be offered any opportunity to get as close to you as possible. He was already pulling at your underwear, grasping at it, trying to pull it down before deciding to push it to the side as he lined up the head of his cock with your swollen lips.

Looking directly at you he maintained the intense eye contact as he slid himself between your lips, pushing at your tight entrance slowly, carefully, only allowing his head to enter you. It felt amazing. So good, better than you thought. It stretched, filled you up, and that was ten percent of what he had to give. He hissed, gritting his teeth in concentration, trying his hardest not to move his hips, to buck them, to push himself any further inside of you.

As you balanced yourself, trying to contend with the little of him that was inside of you, he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing it, making you twitch, contracting against him, tightening the grip your cunt had on his head. As he groaned, you couldn't help yourself anymore. You wanted him, all of him. You were willing to risk it.

"God, George... just fuck me."

"Wh-what?"

"Fuck me! Just..."

Realising you might need to take matters into your own hands, you let yourself slide down his cock, each inch stretching you further, a shockwave of pain followed by dull throbs of ache and arousal coarsed through your body, the pit of your stomach feeling pressed, your insides stuffed with him. Llike you were being entirely consumed, enveloped, in George Harkness.

"Christ..."

It was all he could manage with the limited breath he had, his whole body stopping any other function to focus on not letting himself cum inside of you immediatel. The sudden warmth, the tight, wet embrace, the way you leaned back, breasts bouncing as helped yourself to him, riding his cock as he lay back and held your hips. His thumbs, stroking against your skin, where the top of your thighs met your lower stomach, feeling your own desperation as you worked him harder, faster, palms resting on his chest to balance yourself as you took everything he had.

Brows furrowed in concentration, pursuing your orgasm, you wailed as his fingers found their way back to your nipples, teasing them, grabbing at your breasts as you rolled your hips and felt his cock twitching agaisnt your walls. It hurt, but in a way that was delicious, a way that felt like it should be borderline illegal, like most things that provided such a wonderful, addictive experience were. But there you were, enjoying it. Loudly, explicitly. And very publicly. It didn't matter to you, and it really didn't seem to matter to George. You were quite happy to scream it from the rooftops then and there, how much you were enjoying it. Being fucked by Captain Boomerang, as ridiculous as his name always seemed to you. You'd be quite content to tell everyone that he was making you cum, that he was one stroke of his thumb against your erect nipples, one tap of his cock against the exact spot inside of you, from losing all composure.

"George... George..."

"Yeah... yeah, it's good... eh? I'm good."

"Fuck, you are. Yeah. Yes! Yes!"

One final, loud, resounding 'yes' echoed around you, filling the air, bursting through the trees. You imagined that anyone within a five mile radius might have heard Digger coming. His cock, falling from you against his body, still dripping with your slick, still spurting streams of his thick, white cum all over his abdomen, covering his thick pubic hair. His hands, still embedded in your skin, creating deep, red marks where the grip was far too tight, stinging so perfectly pleasantly.

Your own notes of pleasure hadn't exactly been all that much quieter than his own, but still drowned out by the amped up grunting and wailing of George. At least you could hold that saving grace. Allow yourself to cling to that modicum of your dignity.

Because you certainly weren't bothered about any other facets of it, as you slid down beside George on the dingy mattress, curling around his body, hand on his chest, smugly satisfied to know that you had contributed to the stains that would no doubt be a permanent feature.

#captain boomerang #digger harkness #george harkness #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomer x you #captain boomerang fanfic #finnie writes

[foli-vora]

run to you: chapter five

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: life is hectic atm but i'm so glad to finally get this out! i swear i'm gonna get around to replying to all of your lovely comments on chapter four. i really appreciate your love and support for this story and i'm forever thanking you, even if i don't get around to replying as quick as i want! so not a lot of marcus and reader in this chapter, like... at all lmao, but the storyline is now picking up and we can fasten our seatbelts for the turbulent ride ahead. enjoy, angels! x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and 'You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: just over 4.5k

Warnings: angst, swearing, the bestest golden retriever himbo bff, talk of crime and undercover operations, mentions of heartache, mentions of jail/being incarcerated, talk of murder/bodies, smutty flashback (18+ only), Patrick Jane, super brief blink-and-you-miss-it Lisbon appearance (poor marcus bb is not doing good rn lmao SUFFER BITCH), and the usual warning: bitter saltiness that only one man brings to life in us

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

He’s hovering.

At first, it’s almost easy to ignore—you think he’s just watching you paint with a small sense of curiosity and would move away once boredom finds him, but you’ve never been one for people looming over your shoulder for an extended period of time, and so the irritation quickly starts to seep in.

The hand holding the paintbrush drops, and you look expectantly at him while knocking your headphones off of one ear, “Can I help you, agent?”

Jacob leans on the table next to you and tears into the homemade sub in his hands, chewing loudly as a small smearing of mayonnaise gathers at the corner of his lips.

He gives a nod, mumbling around the mouthful of food, “Just makin’ sure you eat.”

You blink in surprise, glancing at the window, “It’s lunchtime already?”

“A bit past,” Jacob replies, moving away now that he has your attention and sits himself on a chair at the table, “but I didn’t want to let you go late without eating. Gotta keep up your energy, Monet—don’t want you running yourself into the ground.”

“Thanks,” you murmur softly, organising your little workstation and rolling your aching shoulders.

The break is surprisingly welcome. You didn’t even realise how long you’d been lost in your work until you stopped, and now the throb in your fingers is all you can focus on. You clench and unclench your hand as you walk to your bag and ready some lunch, careful of the hot food you retrieve from the microwave.

Jacob doesn’t look at you as you seat yourself opposite him, too engrossed in studying the painting hanging on the easel.

“You’re good at this,” Jacob notes, eyeing the almost completed piece waiting to be taken wherever by Marcus’ team, “how’d you get into this stuff? Art school?”

Appetite now gone, you shift in your seat, suddenly far too interested in pushing the rice into small mountains in your glass dish.

Breathe.

He doesn’t know.

“I uh… I actually did it for a living.”

“Oh? Nice.”

There’s no malice in his tone, no mistrust, just pure interest.

He doesn’t glare at you, or pull a face of suspicion. It doesn’t even occur to him that it may have all been under the table and illegal. You feel a little guilty, almost as if you’d been leading him to believe you weren’t a previously convicted criminal. It makes you want to own it, to just speak your truth and let him make his own judgement of your actions.

Maybe it would be best to do so, so he would know where he stands and how he should view you. You’re not a good person, and maybe he deserves to know that. He does deserve to know that. 

“It was… it wasn’t legal. That’s how I got caught up in Marcus’ radar,” you admit quietly, briefly letting your eyes meet his and watching the flicker of surprise flash across his features before dropping your gaze again, afraid to watch his warmth and friendliness disappear. 

“Oh.” 

Nothing is said for a few minutes.

You swear you can feel the seconds trickling by, your nerves picking up and heightening with every silent tick. The small bit of the lunch you’d packed last night and eaten starts to churn uncomfortably in your stomach, swirling with your growing anxiety and threatening to bubble up your throat.

You can’t look at him.

“How’d you get caught?”

“It was a whole thing. Apparently the FBI had been after them—us—for a while… I knew it was big, I wasn’t stupid, but I guess I just tried to ignore the other side of it all. The money was good, and it felt nice. Marcus went undercover—guess they wanted someone on the inside, and I just happened to fall in the trap.”

And fall into the trap you did. You fell good. One look into those warm brown eyes and your walls had crumbled. You still don’t understand how it all happened. If only you could go back and scream at your more naive self, tell her to just walk away and never look back.

God, had you truly been that lonely? To open up so quickly, so easily, with a complete stranger? Would things have played out differently if you had just been stronger and ignored the obvious attraction and turned a cheek to his advances? Would he have just moved on to somebody else for the sake of the case?

It makes you angry, and you don’t have a clue as to why. Maybe it’s because somewhere deep within you, beneath the bitterness and the hurt, you wanted to believe he actually did want you, and not just use you as a means to finish the investigation. You wanted to believe that a part of it, even just a slither of it, was real.

Stupid.

Of course it wasn’t real. None of it was.

Jacob nods in understanding, “So that’s why you hate Pike?”

Hate?

Is that what you feel for him?

The angry side of you says yes. Yes, you hate him and everything he fucking stands for, and that you’d feel this way forever… but it doesn’t sit right, feel right. Maybe you don’t. Maybe hate isn’t what it is. Resentment? Disappointment, perhaps? 

“I don’t hate him,” you sigh quietly, giving up on lunch and pushing it away from you, “not… not really. I mean, I did. For months I wished all sorts of horrible shit to happen to him, but I… I don’t know. I guess I just accepted it for what it was after a while. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like him—at all—but I just want to forget it all happened and move on. I want my fresh start, you know? It’s hard seeing him, being around him again, after all the heartbreak.”

“Wait,” Jacob frowns, holding a hand out to stop you from speaking any more, “when you say you ‘fell into the trap’, does that… were you guys a thing? While he was undercover? Was it serious?”

“It was to me,” you admit with a murmur, “even had me picking out a damn wedding dress.”

The laugh that you force from your lips is strained and void of any true humour.

If anything, it’s an attempt to steer the direction of the conversation from diving any deeper into the overwhelming feelings you had for a man that had never existed. It’s humiliating to even think about. Maybe if you laugh about it, the sting of it all won’t hurt as much.

“Oh well,” you breathe, straightening in your seat and twisting your lips to resemble a faint smile, “it’s all in the past. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Jacob watches you play with your food with a look you can’t quite identify. You don’t want to risk looking at him too much, afraid that he’ll see the clear pain swirling in your eyes. The damage has probably already been done. He’s seen it all, and probably more. He’s a Federal Agent—their job relies on reading people on a daily basis. 

“Hey,” he mutters, giving you a small comforting smile when you eventually pull your gaze away from the table to look at him, “for what it's worth, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt. It must’ve been really tough, and I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

Your features twist into a frown, “Who said I was alone through it?”

He watches you knowingly for a moment, his brows raising ever so slightly as his small smile turns a little sadder, sympathetic. He’s right, and he knows it. You had been alone. It’d been the most alone you’d ever felt, and you’ll spend the rest of your life hoping to never feel that way again. 

Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you give a small shrug and drop your fork with a quiet clatter, “I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t. Yeah, you’ve made some pretty shit decisions in the past—I’m not debating that, but I like to think of myself as a good judge of character. You’re not a bad person, not like the ones we’re used to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone. You watch him for a few minutes, eyes darting between his bright green ones and searching for anything that gives you a small feeling of doubt that his words are nothing but a lie.

You find nothing.

A true smile starts to grow along your lips and you dip your head, unable to keep meeting his genuine gaze without feeling the sting of tears in your eyes.

 “Thank you, Jacob. I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome, Kahlo.”

It’s quiet, and you feel like you can bear the sight of food again.

Your shoulders feel lighter, the ache in your chest has dissipated. It’s freeing. You hadn’t yet been able to speak on what had happened without someone focusing on the crime part.

The inmates you had bunked with, the counsellors in jail, the people hiring you once you got out… they all had that pre-judgement of you. The title of criminal followed you throughout every interaction, but not here, not with him.

You pick up your fork and start picking at your food, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. The slice of Jacob’s sudden huff cuts through the air, and he throws his almost eaten sub onto the table before crossing his arms in obvious irritation.

“God, what a fuckin’ dick.”

—

Heat—it’s everywhere.

It sticks to your skin, it swells in the pit of your stomach, it builds and builds over your flesh with every deep roll of his body over yours. It should be too much, too overwhelming, but your nails still dig into the soft skin of his back in a silent cry for more.

Just when you think he can’t possibly get any closer, he does. He pushes—crushes—you into the mattress, hands cradling the back of your head in an effort to keep you as close as possible. So close, so fucking close, you’re practically breathing in the other, with no room left for oxygen between you and it’s absolute bliss.

He’s breathless against the skin of your throat, nothing but soft whimpers and the hush of sharp exhales filling your ears. Lips press wherever they can reach, trailing paths of fire along your cheeks and the length of your neck until you squirm from the sensation, fighting both the urge to hide from his tender touch and stretch out for more. 

“A-Alex,” you breathe, face turning enough to trace the tip of your nose along the shell of his ear.

He exhales sharply, hips faltering ever so slightly. His face briefly falls away from breathing in your skin, dipping his head and hiding his features. Despite the unexpected jolt in his rhythm, he still moves, still rolls his hips in that way he’s fucking mastered, ensuring every upwards roll of his hips has that delicious bit of friction along your clit.

It’s maddening.

It’s perfection.

The ecstasy rolling through your body hits an all time high, and your thighs tighten around his hips, coaxing him to brush harder, push deeper into the wet heat of your pussy until you start to feel that sweet, sweet edge start to creep along the edge of your nerves.

More, more, more—

“Ale–”

He suddenly rears forward, moulding his lips to yours and stealing the very breath from your lungs. It’s always the same. The kiss is urgent, all teeth and tongue and it’s impossible to speak another word. You struggle to keep up with his intensity, too busy focusing on that overwhelming high and the tightening that threatens to give at any second now. 

It’s good—it’s so fucking good, you swear you’re going crazy. He does that to you. Though you can’t say it, breathe it, his name is all you hear in your mind, its own soft echo a consistent companion to the sheer pleasure he drowns you in.

Alex, Alex, Alex.

—

It’s been a month.

A month in your new little workspace, a month of painting, a month of successfully avoiding him. Despite it being his investigation, he now keeps his distance from the makeshift art space he had given you. Maybe he finally got the message that you didn’t want to be around him, that the mere thought of even uttering a single word to him made you feel almost nauseous.

You haven’t seen him in weeks. 

When you finish a piece, he sends his agents. You know a few by name now, but don’t bother with small talk. They come, give you a friendly hello, take the finished, wrapped painting and leave—that’s it.

That’s all it is.

You don’t have to do anything else, and it’s wonderful. You spend your days painting, relishing in the familiar feel of a brush between your fingers and enjoying the legal money deposited into your account every week.

You get ahead with bills. You buy some new clothes. You feel refreshed, finding a certain needed peace from the sudden financial stability. You know it’s not going to last—Jacob doesn’t talk about the case a whole lot, but you know that the team has made some progress with it, so you put a little money aside for the day the FBI no longer needs you.

He becomes a fast friend, and if you were ever to find it within you to thank Marcus for anything in this world, it would be him. You surely would’ve gone batshit insane if you’d been holed up in that room by yourself day in and day out, probably worse if you had been locked up with Marcus every day.

But not Jacob.

Jacob keeps the air light.

He’s kind, funny, and a bit of an idiot, and you find yourself fondly laughing nearly every day at the little things he would do or say. You thoroughly enjoy his company, and love hearing about his time in school, training to be an agent and the few cases he’s worked on so far.

He asks you questions and seems genuinely interested in getting to know you and of you past, never once making you feel lesser than or lowly for your less than ideal life before this. 

“You made a decision, Matisse. Good or bad—own it.”

He keeps to himself whenever you find yourself focused on your work, and only steps in to remind you to take care of yourself. On the odd occasion, he’d join you, content to watch you work with a shine of interest.

You don’t like it, so you shove canvas paper and oil pastels at him to keep him from hovering any longer and it works. It becomes a little activity of sorts, a release for him whenever paperwork starts to push at his patience a little too much. 

“They should’ve hired you for this case,” you mumble teasingly around your lunch, grinning at the pride filling his features as he finishes his latest project—his own creation inspired by the Van Gogh you’re currently working on.

It’s pretty, full of bright colours and soft swirling patterns. The Future, he had called it, and apparently—it was all for you.

You need something colourful, Da Vinci, something happy. You’re too sad. 

The FBI doesn’t deserve him.

“Hey, I’m proud of this,” he retorts sharply, pointing a finger smudged with colour at you but his tone doesn’t match the bright amusement in his eyes, “belongs in a damn museum. It’s an original Wilson—people will flock to see it. You just wait, Michaelangelo, this will bring a lot of money down the track, mark my words.”

Your chuckle is cut off by the insistent buzz in his pocket, and he stands immediately, answering the call with a swift Wilson and stepping away from the table with his phone pressed to his ear.

It’s Marcus... you know just by the way he positions himself, ensuring to keep a bit of distance and turning away so you don't have to potentially hear his voice from the other end. You quickly lose interest in the conversation, focusing back on the open book you’ve been trying—and failing—to get into the last few days.

The interest in the conversation was lost, until you hear it.

“Understood, sir. We’ll leave now.”

Immediately looking up in question, your brows start to furrow as Jacob wraps up the phone call and strides back to the table quietly. Anxiety begins to build in the pit of your stomach at the sudden serious set of his features, unused to seeing the usually bright and bubbly face now so stoic. It’s Agent Wilson, not Jacob. 

“We’re leaving?” you ask in confusion, “but I haven’t even done—”

The frown between his thick brows deepens, and he barely looks at you while he shrugs his navy blue suit jacket on, leaving faint smudges of orange and pink on the lapels.

“Leave it, we need to get to the office.”

The anxiety immediately gives way to dread.

The office? Where Marcus and his team are? Why?

You want to ask if you can stay behind—straight up refuse to go anywhere near that damn building—but the firm set of Jacob’s lips lets you know it’s non-negotiable.

He helps you with your bag, a certain urgency to his movements, and then you’re descending the stairs with him hot on your tail. He ushers you into the car, throwing a wary glance each way down the street before moving around the vehicle and sliding into his seat.

You swear you can feel your heart beating in your throat. He’s clearly in a rush, but you’re at a loss as to why. Has something happened? Is there danger? Are you in danger?

With your mind beginning to hurl possibilities at you, you start to feel more and more nauseous with every swift swerve through traffic Jacob makes.

“Is everything okay?” You ask carefully, fingers fiddling with the straps of your bag as you try to calm the rage of your heart. 

He briefly looks away from the traffic and gives you a small reassuring smile, “Of course. There’s just been a big development and I’m needed back at the office for a debriefing, sorry for the rushing.”

“Oh,” you breathe in relief, “okay, I understand. Well, you can drop me home if that’s easier for you.”

“It’s an urgent thing and uh… Pike would like you at the office.”

Your lips press shut and an immediate frown overcomes your expression.

Of course.

If there had been developments in the case, why did you need to be there? It’s not like you're an agent with unlimited access to the available information. Your own folder Marcus had given you was severely lacking any true details of the case beyond what you needed to know, and it’s not like you were involved in anything anymore, so you had very little to contribute further than your creative talents.

You keep quiet for the rest of the quick trip, taking the hint that now is not the time for small talk. The need to chat is nonexistent to you right now anyway, even if Jacob happened to be in a perkier mood. The mere thought of seeing, and talking to, Marcus again does nothing to ease the dread churning in the pit of your gut. 

The building is not a welcome sight, yet you hurry to follow Jacob from the brightly lit parking lot and into the home of the FBI. He stays beside you the whole way, through the wide crowded corridors and during the silence of the elevator, giving you one final reassuring smile before he pushes open the door to the Art Crime Department.

It’s busy. 

Marcus doesn’t suddenly appear from nowhere and bombard you both at the entrance. You can take a deep breath. The shrill ringing of phones fill the space, and the shuffle of agents near running about with various files and pieces of paper takes you a little off guard.

There’s an uncomfortable tension hanging in the air. You can’t quite put your finger on why it unsettles you so.

You follow Jacob further into the chaos, ensuring to keep out of the way and keeping an eye out for the one man you seem to now be bracing for, steeling your nerves into something harder, something unbreakable. You don’t need to wait long—there he is.

He looks tired.

Marcus appears from a room, presumably his own personal office, raking a hand through his mussed hair and saying a few brief words to a coworker before his eyes zero in on Jacob. He points to the conference room where you’d once sat at the beginning of this, already heading that way with another agent, and Jacob gives a short nod in response.

You try to blend into the background behind Jacob so Marcus doesn’t take much notice of you, but it’s not even a moment later and his eyes are suddenly meeting yours. The feeling of his attention is instant, and the increase of your heart is familiar by now.

Despite the distance between you, you feel how they roam over your face, seemingly searching your expression, but it’s not long until they fall away and you’re left to exhale quietly, now free from his gaze. 

He disappears into the conference room, and you swallow down the thick feeling of anxiety building in the back of your throat. He doesn’t seem eager, or interested, in talking to you straight away, and you’re relieved by that—you could mentally and emotionally prepare yourself a little more.

“My desk is over there if you want to sit down,” Jacob offers, turning and walking backwards in order to point you in the right direction, “and I’ve got snacks in the bottom drawer.”

Rolling your eyes, you give a strained huff of amusement and start walking towards it, “Of course you do.”

Your shoulder catches the frame of someone else and you quickly take a step back, wide eyes locking with a pair of vaguely amused blue ones.

He’s dressed sharply, much different to the basic suits the agents around him wear, in a well kept grey toned three piece suit with the simple white collar of his shirt popped open at the base of his throat. His soft blond curls are styled neatly back, and the gentle scent of tea wafts from the cup in his hold.

He’s pretty, by society’s standards, but his eyes are sharp, as if they can see right into the very centre of you.

You don’t like it.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mumble, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

You don’t linger to hear what the agent has to say. You hurry into Jacob’s desk space and throw your bag under it before taking a seat in the simple desk chair, the backrest squeaking as you rest into it.

His desk is as you expected it to look—messy, but organised in his own little chaotic way. The edges of his computer screen are littered with sticky notes of reminders, his ballpoint pens are all missing their lids, he has a bobble head character of a sports player next to his keyboard and a crumpled paper plane lies hidden beneath a thick notebook.

It’s undoubtedly Jacob, end to end.

The wide variety of sweets and chips resting on old files doesn’t surprise you at all when you tug at the stiff drawer, and you immediately zero in on the ones he’s been sharing with you over the past few weeks.

“Jane, stay out of trouble,” a brunette orders sharply as she passes, briefly catching your attention and the man you had previously bumped into comes to a stop just beside you.

“Aye aye, Captain,” he replies dryly with the growings of a smirk, sipping quietly at the tea in his hands and watching the last few agents file into the conference room before the door closes.

Do people still use saucers? He does. He half turns towards you and eyes you curiously as you sway absent-mindedly in Jacob’s desk chair, breaking into the packet of sour candies.

“You’re not an agent.”

You blink up at him and give a small, polite smile, “No, I’m not.”

He makes a low noise of thought to himself and sits on the edge of the desk opposite to Jacob’s, watching you over the rim of the plain white cup he lifts to his lips.

You shift a little under his study, busying yourself with picking a lemon flavoured candy out from the packet and looking over the various little notes decorating the dated computer screen.

Meeting @ 10 Tues. Picasso retrieval daily @ 8. Get bread. Call ma before she has a damn heart attack—

“How long have you been an artist?”

Eyes rolling back to the stranger, you give a slightly confused, “What? How do you know I’m an artist?”

“You have paint on your fingers,” he replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the room.

Rubbing your fingers together, you feel the tell tale crack of dried paint over your skin and glance down at it in vague interest. He’s got a really good set of eyes. You shift a little in the seat and pinch the ends of your sleeves before pulling them down further over your hands to hide them from him.

“A few years,” you reply vaguely, “you’re rather observant, Agent Jane.”

It comes across more as an accusation rather than a general statement, and it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. He grins, flashing a nice set of pearly white teeth. 

“Patrick,” he supplies, “and I’m a consultant.”

“Didn’t even know that was a thing,” you mutter plainly, not liking the way you feel like a fucking open book with this stranger, “well, shouldn’t you be in there, then?”

You nod towards the closed door of the conference room and Patrick makes a low noise of dismissal, a slight scrunch curling his nose.

“I already know everything about the murders—Lisbon can handle it.”

The word cuts through the air and chills you right to the bone. 

“Murders? What murders?”

Patrick looks at you, shrugging lightly.

“That’s why we’re here. The fancy little tracker led this bunch down to the meeting point in California, but we found the bodies first. Deal gone wrong, I’m guessing. The buyer probably found the painting to be a fake, and got rid of the delivery men because of it. Very messy.”

Your stomach turns.

The painting? Your painting? 

“What was wrong with the piece?” You ask quietly, voice suddenly strained.

“Not sure,” Patrick murmurs, taking an apparent interest in the way you’re reacting to his information and studying you from over his tea, “guess we’ll know soon enough.”

You swallow, a sting of sweat building along the back of your neck. They knew it was a replica? How? You must’ve done something different, there must’ve been something wrong with it. Otherwise how else would they know? They wouldn’t.

Have you made a mistake?

Is that why Marcus wanted you here? Are you in trouble? What would be the ramifications of your mistake? After all, it’s your fault. People had died because you didn’t focus hard enough on your work. The FBI have probably realised how useless you are if you can’t even convince some shady black market dealers that your pieces are real. 

You must’ve been distracted. You never made mistakes, and now you’ve made one that cost lives. How many? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it happened, and now you have to live with that knowledge.

People have died. People have died because of you. 

You fucked up. 

-

tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist fic #run to you

[joesalw]

You really can't write this shit lmao...

TS's friend group consists of Miss 'idc about genocide and continue to employ a bloodthirsty zionist CEO for my makeup brand' and Cara D who's great grandfather created the Black and Tans which is a terrorist organisation that killed Irish people during the Irish War of Independence. A group that also sent their people to kill Palestinians in favor of establishing the state of Israel. Last night these 3 went to Ramy Youssef's (who Taylor probably met at the "Poor Things" premiere) comedy show in NYC and 100% of the proceeds would go to the Gaza relief fund. The thing is, Selena and Taylor are getting all the credit and praise for Ramy's activism. I've been a fan of her work for the past 10 years and her recent activities have turned me off of her completely. The turning point was that pathetic TIME interview.

I've always thought of her as this well-read individual who can masterfully express herself whether it would be public speaking or writing but I couldn't help but cringe while reading that article. She tries too hard to appeal to gen z and younger millennial crowd when she herself is practically pushing 40 atp. I feel like all of her 'intelligence' came from being around Joe Alwyn who's a notorious bookworm. The fact that she describes her Rep era as 'goth-punk' was the first strike, the 2016 hate train as a ' career death' was the 2nd and the whole patriarchy delusion she went into just hit the final nail in the coffin and I was like 'nope, not doing this shit anymore'.

I know that swifties have been comparing her to Beyonce lately saying things like 'well, Taylor writes her songs' or 'Beyonce can't read' and talking about how she doesn't give interviews so people don't know that she's dumb. And as a comparison I've found her Harper's Bazaar interview that she gave when she turned 40. And good God, I've slept on this woman for way too long. In the interview she talks about building her work ethic from an early age. The dedication of her life's decades (First decade was dedicated to dreaming, the teens were about the grind, the 20s were about building a strong foundation for her career and establishing her legacy, the 30s were about starting her family and prioritizing her own life over her career). She started her own management company at 27, in 2013 she started her charity foundation in which she helps hurricane relief, education, supporting minorities businesses, families with housing needs, water crises, pediatric health care and pandemic relief. She talks about expanding her business ventures beyond music industry, talks about setting boundaries in the world of celebrity culture, about her friends being a group of strong independent women, about the importance of mental health. She also says that she's most inspired by her parents ("My mother has always been my Queen and still is. She has always been so strong and is filled with humanity", "No matter how tired she was, she was always professional, loving, and nurturing."; "My father constantly encouraged me to write my own songs and create my own vision. He is the reason I wrote and produced at such a young age."). That woman is so well-spoken and genuine you can't help but feel warm while reading it and she doesn't feel the need of throwing unnecessary 'smart people' words to seem that way.

Reading Taylor's "Person of the Year" profile and Beyonce's 'Entering 40s' interview were completely different experiences. And as a result, one of them lost a fan and the other gained one. I wish Tree Paine would stop Taylor from giving these interviews because everytime she does, she comes across as tone-deaf, out of touch, mentally stuck overgrown teenager, try-hard bratty diva who can't stand being not the only one praised.

Anyway, I'd recommend to read the full interview and watching her new film. I've watched it yesterday and got the urge of turning my life around. That lady is truly such a light.

Taylor's friend list also includes 'Mr. and Mrs. plantation with slave cabins on the property wedding', 'a sex offender and a SA apologist as the newest addition', 'Ms. "I assaulted my own sister", ' an insecure and whiny music producer who likes to stir drama on Taylor's behalf'. And not to mention that she's dated a nazi this year and her newest flavour of the month is a fatphobic jock with a double digit iq, her father is also an avid republican voter. I think the people she surrounds herself with tell about her more than she does herself.

And concluding with two cents about Joe Alwyn. I'm glad she's out of his life. While I was a swiftie I've watched his interviews and he always came across as a very gentle, calm, well-spoken and a bit introverted man. And she's... well, her. I also think that she'd held him back in her job in regards of producers and directors not wanting their work to be overshadowed by 'Taylor's BF is in this' articles. I'm hoping he does more projects in the future or maybe dips his toes in writing and directing something because clearly he's a talented writer.

Sorry for the long rant, had to get it out of my system <3

I love reading your rants, keep it coming. they are so on point.

#anti taylor swift #swifties dni #joe alwyn

[communistkenobi]

what are some of your favorite nonfiction podcasts?

the big one I recommend is just king things - two marxist academics go through the books of Stephen King in publication order. extremely funny and insightful podcast, very accessible (like this is not a theory podcast or anything, it’s very laid back and casual), and I really appreciate their approach to literary criticism.

game studies study buddies is by the same hosts as just king things but this is a theory podcast. Each episode they go over and discuss a book from the field of game studies (ie the academic study of games). I very much recommend you listen to this if you want to like passively absorb critical/leftist theory. The hosts are academics, one of which teaches about games regularly as a professor, so it kind of feels like someone is teaching you about a text. I find it fairly accessible, I learn a lot about games, and as I said they very frequently structure their discussions with left wing theory. I find them very insightful!

blowback is very good, it’s about the imperial history of the United States. a history/journalist type podcast. this can get extremely heavy and difficult to listen to given the subject matter so I would not binge this (I usually listen to it when I’m doing a physical activity) but it’s a really good source of historical information and has helped me develop my political understanding of modern western imperial history. each season covers a different event: S1 is the invasion of Iraq, S2 is the Cuban Revolution, S3 is the Korean War, S4 is the invasion of Afghanistan

ALAB (all lawyers are bad) is good with some caveats. It’s a podcast by a bunch of lawyers who spend a lot of time on twitter discussing how horrible lawyers are, usually either focusing on specific high-profile lawyers (Kavanaugh, Dershowitz), specific american legal regimes (anti-BDS legislation, sanction law, etc), or specific trends in the legal system that causes structural problems (eg lifetime judgeship appointments with no mandatory retirement age). They also sometimes do random funny lawsuits or cover legal responses to events like Jan 6th. A mixed bag in terms of focus but mostly it’s hating on American law and the legal system. This is a critical recommendation because it’s a bunch of lawyers dudes riffing and some of their analysis can be stupid/bad, they say stupid shit that comes off as “anti identity politics” at times, etc. I’m pulling from memory because it’s been a while since I listened to them so I’m sorry if this is overly vague/general. The best way to describe it is chapo-adjacent if that means anything to you lol

and finally the podcast knowledge fight. this is a podcast dedicated to covering and debunking Alex Jones. in all honesty I don’t find this podcast super valuable in terms of analysis, like they are only really focused on debunking the claims Jones makes and explaining why they’re factually wrong. Which like that’s a good thing to do, I’m not saying its bad, but I don’t really need to be convinced Jones is lying about everything lol so I don’t personally find it super useful/insightful. If you have to interact with Alex Jones fans regularly (like family members) then maybe that will be more valuable for you! Totally depends. however the reason I bring them up is because I DO recommend the series of episodes they have titled formulaic objections - in this series they go through all the deposition material from the sandy hook lawsuit against Alex Jones (the one that cost him a billion dollars in damages and court sanctions lol). They play clips of the depositions throughout these episodes, which are so fucking insane to listen to. Like listening to a bunch of employees of an insane fringe right wing media organisation being questioned by lawyers for hours on end is so entertaining lmao. This lawsuit is about the sandy hook school shooting so a warning about the subject matter, it can get dark at times, but on the whole it’s extremely fucking funny to listen to. And the hosts provide a lot of context for what’s going on in the lawsuit, talk about it, and also they debunk the shit Jones lies about in court that you may not know about, so I find that part of it really good.

#asks #hope that helps !

[acorpsecalledcorva]

Thanks to the amount of systems cringe stuff spamming this tag I finally gave in and had a look at what they're saying, great decision on my part, happy for myself and so grateful for the inspiration lmao.

Honestly fuck all the fake claiming stuff, that's old hat, I wanna talk about the reverse conspiracy theory stuff they got going on. Namely their new automod response to anyone that mentions RAMCOA. So uhhh trigger warnings for discussion on that.

That link for an "archive database"? It points to the Grey Faction website, the Satanic Temples replacement for the False Memory Foundation. It's kinda sad honestly, sparsely populated with old news about Colin Ross' eye lasers and 80s satanic panic stuff to completely discredit the ISSTD as the organisation stands today. They completely deny the concept of repressed memories and don't believe in DID at all, even if they try to hide it with carefully chosen language

Does this kinda stuff happen? Absolutely. But the issue is, unsurprisingly, nuanced and complicated.

The Body Keeps the Score has a great section on this. In one chapter the author recounts a patients sudden recollection of abuse memories after seeing their abuser having been arrested on television. The patient had spent their entire life having no recollection of these events, only for them suddenly to reappear in crystal clear and full sensory detail. It does sound kinda unbelievable, I mean we know how dubious and unreliable memory can be, how can these memories be preserved so perfectly outside of conscious awareness? Well the chapter goes on to explore accounts of traumatic memory around Shell Shock. As it turns out, veterans that didn't get Shell Shock often had very personalised accounts of the war, they would even romanticise their experiences spun as a narrative of personal valour and heroism. Shell Shock patients on the other hand had much more accurate and factual recollections that all corroborated with each other, it would be as if they were back there experiencing it as it was, as opposed to looking back on it from the present.

This is because of how memory is processed. A healthy processed memory is becomes part of your own personal narrative, how you feel about it, the lessons you learned from it, and how it relates to the rest of your life. A traumatic memory doesn't do this, because it is deemed as incompatible with personal narrative, impossible to feel anything about, and threatens the integrity of the rest of the psyche, it sits outside. Like lost luggage at an airport never opened and never claimed.

This isn't necessarily the case for traumatic memory in DID though, at least in a good number of cases what's preserved is the emotional memory, feelings of helplessness or betrayal, body sensations of things happening, but the details, the auto biographical recollection of events can be lost.

In fact, this is one of the key ways the false memory foundation claims have been debunked. You can install the memory of being lost in the mall to someone, but what you can't do is give someone PTSD symptoms around a false memory, those emotional and physical intrusions can't be implanted.

This is to say that the trauma is always real, it deserves attention and validation and treatment, but we do have to be careful about what we do with the content of traumatic memories. And you know what? This is 100% in line with ISSTD guidance for the therapy of patients with a Dissociative Disorder. Therapists are advised not to take disclosures of recounted traumatic memories too literally, not least of all because different alters might have different accounts of events. It can cause a lot of internal conflict and distress to believe one alter over the other and they can't all be right. So what you do is something called Processing. Here's a great video on that from the CTAD clinic

This all relates to the derealisation aspect is DID, and in fact, many have called it a disorder of multiple realities rather than multiple personalities. I guess it depends on which way you wanna look at it from the DPDR continuum. Because of the extreme compartmentalisation of action systems, traumatic memory can be chopped up and distributed among different parts. Some get the emotional memory, some get the physical memory, some transform the content of the memory into something that fits the personal narrative of their created identity. For instance am alter that believes they are a victim of witch trials may have memories of a mob with pitchforks and torches, or a wolf alter might have memories of being surrounded and trapped by hunters in someone who has trauma around severe playground bullying. The emotional experience is retained, but the biographical details are changed into something the brain hopes can be processed, even if it fails in doing so.

Where this gets very messy, is that you can take a compartmentalised emotional or physical intrusive memory, devoid of content, and be suggestible to details that might fill the blanks. This is largely what happened during the satanic panic. Imagining a potential form of abuse, while triggered, can attach those imagined details to the emotional memory. Heck, multiple alters can each attach their own individual narrative of details to the same emotional Intrusion.

And this is a very serious problem I've seen in the community. So many times someone will ask questions about a relatively normal DID experience, and someone will chime in with "well in my case it's the result of programming". This is such a fucking irresponsible and dangerous thing to do. We cannot suggest possible forms of abuse to scared and confused systems that are in the wake of being triggered. This can go SO badly. Many of us suffer from psychosis, paranoia can quickly turn into a full blown delusion, especially when we're talking about organisations of child trafficking and mind control.

Cults exist.

Trafficking organisations exist.

Abusive religious organisations exist.

There's no denial that this happens, but we absolutely cannot just go around suggesting that this might have happened to someone who hasn't yet processed their trauma.

This isn't about disbelieving people, or telling people they are wrong about their trauma, but directing towards what matters, stabilisation from destabilising thoughts during a terrifying and confusing time, grounding, and finding a safe space through which to process the painful emotions so that they no longer intrude on daily life.

Back to Systems Cringe and the Grey Faction, there's something to be said about how faith in institutions can completely broken when we forget, and are reminded, that they aren't some flawless entity but are made up of flawed people that make mistakes

But I think this comment sums up everything I would want to say on that

#syscourse

[ping1n]

Thaumcraft thoughts again but this time I'm thinking gameplay rather than lore. Comparing 4 and 6.

To start off, 6 is obviously unfinished. This alone means in a comparison w/ no addons 4 wins without a doubt.

Still, even without addons there are interesting points to make here based on what we saw in thaumcraft 6 and what we might have seen if azanor didn't fall down a well or whatever.

Fundamentals: The first tab of the 'nomicon is far more straightforward, and much less likely to give a new player an aneurysm as soon as they open the book. The only part of this I dislike is how long it takes to get to golemancy. The research system is explained on this tab, but we'll save that for last.

Auromancy: Auromancy in 6 is far more fleshed out than in 4. Plus, I personally prefer the casting gauntlet to wands. It feels much more thaumcraft, and less fairy tale magic. You're using your gauntlet to force the world to your desires. It's badass. And the modular focus system allows you to accomplish so much more. The excavate focus in 4 is a joke. It's slow, the range isn't great and it doesn't do enchants. It makes you feel sad and wet and pathetic. In 6, you make a plan silk touch excavate lvl 2 focus and you tear out 5x5 blocks of raw stone. You feel like a thaumic god, shaping the world to your desire. Is it balanced? Absolutely not. Having auromancy draw from the chunk-based vis system is hilariously broken. Vis cost doesnt matter because you move 8 blocks over and all your magic is back. But so much in thaumcraft is underpowered for the required time and effort compared to other mods, that it's nice to feel powerful for once. Ofc its limited by the small amount of effects in base tc6, but we're going to discount that for fairness.

Golemancy: The tc6 (and possibly 5? idk I never played that version) version of this mechanic is much more useful and interesting. Making golems is a pain in the ass now but theres so much more depth with the customization system. And not having to make a new golem for each task in your process makes life much easier. Though it must be said with how cheap golems were in 4 you could get a golem-based farm up and running much faster. It suffers in some areas, combat golems being pretty much useless except as bodyguards, in which case they try their best ig.

Artifice: The new arcane bore is slightly less expensive and clunky, but it's still ass. Splitting artifice and infusion was an excellent decision. The vis generator is a great addition, though it feels simultaneously underpowered and overpowered - it's basically free, but the generation is so bad you need a few to get the same power as an IE windmill and you'll burn through the aura eventually.

Infusion: Again, splitting this into it's own category is common sense. There are a few interesting new things in this tab: the verdant charms, especially the feeding one, are excellent QOL. The stabilizers and upgrades are good too, but I dislike having to purposefully destabilize an infusion to unlock the research, especially as its essential for what little endgame there is in base. I think the eldritch and void stone altars are new in this version, but they're unobtainable in base.

Alchemy: Tubes work better now. It's a fun time. The transducers are better tho, and can easily trivialize essentia organisation. Hedge alchemy I think is also new, and it adds some nice utility. Aversio is a nicer name than telum and no one liked Arbor anyway.

The Eldritch: Lol. Lmao.

And finally, Research:

NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO STOP RESEARCHING TO GO MAKE A DAYLIGHT SENSOR? OR GET A PHIAL OF AN ASPECT ONLY FOUND IN SHOES? OR WAIT FOR A SPECIFIC PHASE OF THE GODDAMN MOON?? WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH WHAT IM ACTUALLY RESEARCHING?

It's somehow simpler and infinitely more tedious than the tc4 mechanic. At least that was a minigame, albeit a tedious, frustrating game that required multiple thaumonomicon dives (or, yk, an online tool). It also doesn't make sense. Nothing I'm doing here relates to what I'm trying to learn. In 4, the research pattern often had fun nods to what you were actually doing, like having Venenum in a research about poison, or linking all the primals for a late game research. Celestial observations suck. I sleep at night I'm not gonna grab my scribing tools and paper to scribble a drawing of the moon. MC Eternal lets you buy curiosities, which just makes everything so much nicer.

Moving on.

In terms of things I would have liked to not be left behind in 4, firstly I'd like my goddamn outer lands please. Also centivis, but without nodes it really wouldn't make sense. Tbh the whole chunk based aura system is a bit meh, it breaks a lot though it is convenient.

I was going to discuss addons in this post but this is already really long and I'm tired so I'll save that for another day.

#modded minecraft #thaumcraft #thaumaturge #infodump #video games #modding

[liketheinferno2]

in talking about ffxvi you made the point that clive is a good DRK, from the standpoint of the emotional thing that that class's narrative does. this makes me curious, what's your take on What A Gunbreaker Is For, in an emotional narrative sense? i have my own thoughts but i'm not as good at organizing them, i feel like the major GNB characters we meet (squall, seifer, the bozjan queensguard) are serving in different kinds of bodyguard/knight roles but specifically invested in conceptualizing themselves as bodyguard/knight. it's like embodying a very specific masculinity (gender-neutral)

I haven't played gunbreaker or ff8 so you'll forgive me if I have very little idea of what the defining qualities of the class are beyond ffxiv's NPCS though this has made me interested. Gunbreaker as a bodyguard == finding their sense of self and duty in service to another person definitely tracks with Thancred and the Queensguard. I can talk to you about dragoon, paladin, dark knight and summoner more readily at least.... but it's hard to talk about any tanks without the originals? A lot of classic final fantasy jobs are story relevant in one iteration and just a weapon you hold in the next.

Dark Knight vs Paladin is a peculiar one to me because the first time you see either of them it's DRK that is a military force and PLD that is an independent self acceptance renegade with Cecil Harvey, but that positioning flips back and forth throughout the series. Less that holiness is good and darkness is bad and more that Paladins are (at least trying to be) noble protectors of people at large, chivalrous, willing to take blows for their friends or their cause. Can become a very negative set of traits with characters whose cause is unjust -- Beatrix or the Heavens Ward come to mind.

Dark Knight's defining traits are like... exchanging self preservation for power, turning the worst parts of yourself into strength, almost like spiritually impure outcast class even when they're backed by an official body in the setting? Like Clive is definitely a dark knight because he can't access any of his strength until he's ready to accept that the worst parts of him are still part of him (Cloud Strife is also like this!!!) but you also come up against a squadron of like Sanbrequois Imperial Dark Knights With A Capital D who are sectioned off and despised even within their own organisation because they do the things too horrible for the rest of them.

An aside but I think Clive is quietly dual classing because as I get through the crafting unlocks late in the game when he's turned into someone who's protecting his entire community and pushed forward by love of those people it's all classic Paladin arms. Dark Knight Paladin Summoner Blue Mage McSpecial Boy.

But anyway most of my thoughts on Gunbreaker is that assigning yourself bodyguard can easily turn into kind of a tragic codependent dynamic and Thancred in Shadowbringers is almost entirely about that. It's a lot more personal than Paladin -- this isn't someone motivated by what they think is the greater good but the good of their charge -- yet less self absorbed than Dark Knights burning themselves up for power? Shadowbringers Thancred is dependent on his loved ones to even function as a GNB because fun fact if you can't bring Ryne or Urianger into Trusts with him he won't have any of his kit that requires their magic to use. .. I suppose Gunbreaker at least in FF14 is about partnerships and a subjective personal sense of duty.

Also you're right about the masculinity thing lmao I don't feel butch enough unless I'm supportive and helpful to the people around me and I'm sure that's true of a lot of people. It's emotionally rewarding to be a pillar to lean on but you risk suffering in silence if you can't get out of that self-prescribed role when you need to.

#asks #if this is completely gibberish i'm sorry lmao writing all in one go stream of consciousness #dante plays catboy simulator #final fantasy sex and violence

[dailytomlinson]

Hi! If you’ve been wondering “what the fuck is going on?” due to most things being posted with a huge delay or not at all, I just wanna share what’s been up on my end of life. Last year was a rollercoaster on it’s own and towards the end of year, I felt the urge to visit a side of my [exchange student host] family I hadn’t really visit in 7 years (in the U.S.) and we’ve had some losses early in 21/22 and I felt like it was time to take time (and money) to pay them a visit and get to mourn our losses, spread some good ol positivity and love to people that quite literally saved my life when I first moved in, back in 2012. I hadn’t told them I was going to visit during the holidays and 3 days after I bought my flight, my grandmother received the news that the illness she had been feeling all October had a name and a due date: cancer, 3 months max. I was devastated and knew the worse would probably happen over the holidays or right after I left there to come home and I was right. On December 30th, 2 weeks after I got there and had the chance to seat down with her, say a lot of the things I wanted and listen to a lot she had to say, she just... You know. It’s been really emotionally hard for me (well, to our entire family), because I never really got along with my biological family and she embrace me as her own, and been this grandmother figure for me that I desperately needed and when I needed it the most; I was vulnerable, lonely and couldn’t really speak the language, but she treated me as her own from day one and changed my life, changed how I perceived love and family altogether. I left my home there and spent some time travelling because a girl needs a vacation after an intense year. Anyways, that aside, I knew that on my return home, I’d change job titles due new laws and in a good twist, the place I work at decided to let me keep my current job (because I’m ✨too fucking good✨) and I got a second job offer which sent my current boss into a spiral thinking I was going to drop her (LMAO) and etc etc etc, so, all this said, it’s safe to say December/January have been CHAOTIC, with my feelings all over the place and I genuinely haven’t had the time to keep up. It’s just me. Clau @tomlinsun helps when she can and Ingrid, @delicatepointofview, bless her heart, does LITERALLY the most and she’s not even part of the team officially, it’s just her, all my e-mails, passwords and her insomnia against the world. I haven’t stopped caring about Louis, haven’t changed into whatever you clowns seem to think, I just been alive and living. I’m trying to organise my semester ahead so I can have some more time and etc. Louis still means the world to me and this blog was, is and will always be my baby!  That being said, let’s hit the road, hopefully we finally get guitar!Louis this time around! 🎸🎤

#this got long #but just #a little whats up in life #easilyyyyy said it can be ignored #long post

[haissitall]

thoughts about the giggle in no particular order because it's the episodes which im disappointed by that make me write about them

the ep felt very disjointed. various elements barely sewn together. something something toxic political internet culture and media driving people mad, also humanity is shit and rtd is somehow in his smug liberalism phase in 2k23, also the doctor needs to settle down and heal, and face his guilt over abandoning and/or being the cause for his companions' deaths. i guess. and here are creepy dolls which get defeated by just.. brute force (in an admittedly funny scene, but still)

so the first big element in this soup of ideas is the "people going mad corrupted by media" plotline. let's look at that shall we

why was the toymaker doing this? not just in-universe, but how is it his thing at all, like, conceptually? there was something said about how he "made everyone win" in the "game of the 21st century"... k'. it's just there because rtd wanted it there without much consideration about how it would fit the character.

the satellites mind-controlling people around the world is from the master's plan in season 3 finale, the archangel.

what was that weird story beat when kate was like "we can't shoot down the satellite because it belongs to another country and we have to ask permission :((" and the doctor was like "i permit it!" and she emphatically thanked him for that? like... thank god there is this higher power which can rule it necessary for the international organisation (from london tho) to do whatever it needs! to save the world of course

the commentary on ~society~ seemed trite, boring, cringy, patronising, heavy-handed and instantly dated.

so then there was the 1925 subplot. thematically sort of about how the uhh father abandoned his family (i think?), so that's sort of like the doctor abandoned his companions. realistically it's about the creepy dolls

"the doctor abandons his companions" and "the doctor gets his companions into danger so he should be sad about it" and "the doctor never settles down and it's his tragedy" im just tired of this. am i getting old lmao. idk i was nodding off during these dialogues. was there anything new to say here? on all these topics which have been talked about a lot? isn't all this just cheep "feels" and "depth" generator at this point

"am i just too old for this" was my general thought after watching the episode. i mean, i was enjoying the previous ones! i guess i wasn't too old for the star beast lol. i wasn't too old for being excited about the wonderful meep puppet! so this can't be it. but i just watched this scene of a craaazy villain doing his Iconic dance (Best Scene OMG So Camp!!1) and i was simply bored. i didn't even want to ship him with david tennant. am i the grinch?

am i too old for the mystery boxes. for "the one who waits" or whatever, and i think there were some other ohh mysterious things set up for the future. i mean we all know we're gonna be disappinted, right? we all know the it's gonna be crap? and i think moff has successfully put an end to "mysteries of the season" shtick with the hybrid arc. no more mysteries. no more season arcs with cryptic words. stop. staaahhp

im not even gonna talk about "handy 2.0, even more contrived this time". my brain just blanks. it doesn't want to take this information in and dedicate even a second to it. i'd rather think about the international law around unit and how it applies to the satellite situation

overall, i found this episode the weakest among the three specials. i ended the previous two feeling good, while this one left me disappointed. sadly, it's often the last impression which counts. while the previous two episodes had pulled me in, this one left me wondering again about whether the tennant regineration was a good idea in the first place. oh well. but im not losing my hopes for the next season yet!

#the giggle #rtd critical #dw spoilers #dw #doctor who

[nicohischierz]

I FEEL LIKE ITS BASIC TO MAKE HER A MICH GIRL, BUT ITD BE PERFECT

- because hear me out, her and quinn get close her freshman year. she gets there, and takes ncaa by storm (are we thinking she plays ncaa w the men too, right?)

but she is confusing in quinn their entire season, just the basics, she doesn’t think she can do this, but quinn sees her play and is like “i know you can” he’s her number one supporter essentially.

he’d be at her draft (because it’s jacks too, right?), and he’s cheering her on from a distance, because he got drafted the year prior, and their communication kinda slowed. and when he heads her get drafted with jack? he’s literally so happy. because he knows she’ll be in good hands (eventually).

and when her and jack become a chaos trio w dawson? and jack is telling him all about his new best friend, it makes his heart so happy.

AND WHEN JACK EVENTUALLY RE-INTRODUCES THE TWO?

jacks all “y’all know eachother?” as they give eachother the tightest hugs imaginable.

“jack she was my team mate for a year, yes we know eachother”

quinn is so happy to finally talk to her again, because he got his makeshift little sister back.

right? that’s why i chose minny lmao

no because i love this!

like he finds out he’s having a female teammate and he’s texting his mom cause ellen was an amazing player as well.

quinn just take her under his wing and tries to keep her out of trouble. she’s also extremely smart so she helps him with his school work.

they have like a routine where they go out once a week to get froyo and quinn let’s her vent about everything she’s feeling and he tries to give advice.

also his attempts to keep her out of trouble are useless because she becomes friends with nolan and they wreak chaos together.

at the draft she texts him and he feels so proud hearing her name called up and then to the same organisation as his brother. he can’t wait to see her again.

now when jack is talking to quinn about his new friend, quinn doesn’t really put two and two together so he’s just like ‘oh now i have to meet jacks friend but i want to see y/n again’

then when you see quinn you are running down the hall way and you jump on him. jacks looking at you dumbfounded because he didnt realise you played at michigan with quinn.

now every time he’s in jersey or you guys are in vancouver he’s inviting you to dinner and he’s the first hughes brother to find out you’re dating nico 🤚

#nico hischier x player!reader

[aquariasmoon]

Oh look...Me drawing my Oc finally lol. I still need to draw the other one so expect that soon ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ Honestly, with this OC I made her for fun also I have never seen a chubby bey OC??? She has a small backstory/set up which I will post below. But yeah this character is really just an excuse for me to draw cute super girly outfits ( ^ _ ^;) that and also because I wanted a cute girl to beat up Tala LOL

Backstory:

Lilly has some pretty big money issues with a lot of debt, she ends up bouncing from job to job trying to pay it off. This is when she gets a job at the BBA for a new position.  During that year's world tournament they are assigning an assistant/technician to each team to hopefully make the tournament go smoother but also as another layer to prevent cheating. Providing everything from organising accommodation, travel and taking care of press statements to helping with repairs and most importantly regular checks to make sure all blades are legal. 

It’s a lot of work but the pay is real good, however out of everyone she is assigned to Neoborg who she can't seem to click with no matter how hard she tries to be polite and helpful. This is mainly due to the fact that Tala doesn’t want her in any way interfering with the team, unfortunately, that’s her job. Anxiety about not wanting to lose her job and trying and failing to appease Tala and the other members of neoborg she ends up finally cracking and goes full feral on his ass. This in turn causes him to start to *somewhat* respect her, they end up begrudgingly working together for the rest of the tournament.   

Lmao if you can't tell yes. This is a OC/Tala pairing. But I like drama so they hate each other ✧(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)✧ Haha I feel like only I would make a beyOC and not make them a blader XD Yeah no she's just smart and stuff no blading experience at all just a background in engineering because she is actually big brain.

#beyblade oc #Lilly #Sketch #Oc stuff #beyblade #Doodle page

[hopeswriting]

hi hope! hope (lol) you're doing well.

since Skull canonnically ranks pretty high in his family and is shown to have a number of subordinates- direct subordianates even iirc. I've just been thinking really hard, I wonder what their dynamic looks like. becasue we've seen Skull with a number of people, but the kind of casual disrepect he gets from a lot of those he interacts with (ex the arco or adelheid) isn't a suitable way to treat your superior. And on the flip side; Skull's interactions with people aren't usually ones where he is 100% in charge. Him convincing Enma to help him does mean him bossing Enma around a fair bit, but it's a bit different from a formal organisational structure and Skull spends a good amonut of time being more or less obviously insecure that the deal with Enma will fall thru.

I could absolutely see Skull acting similarly-ish as a comander though, but what I'm most of all wanting to figure out is how his subordinates/minions/underlings would treat him in return. This got pretty long lmao but I wanted to toss out my own view first and see if you had anything to bounce off of it. much love <3

hi vanya! hope you're doing well too and are having/had a good day. <3 thank you for the ask!

i think you hit the nail on the head when you said the way skull is treated by most characters in the manga isn’t the way one would treat a superior, because the thing is we rarely see skull interacts with people he is superior to, one way or another. it’s like you said, “Skull's interactions with people aren't usually ones where he is 100% in charge”, and i’d add they aren’t usually ones where he’s in charge at all either (namely with the arco). so as much as the casual disrespect they give him is unfortunate and absolutely not needed just because they’re superior to him, it’s also casual for a reason, you know. because they don’t owe him respect, and if anything he’s the one who owes it to them. and because they’re all mafia and only experienced human connections through a mafia lens, it’s actually a testament of the fact they still like him, value him and think he has worth despite seeing him as under them that they’re only just casual with their disrespect, without ever really meaning it to sting, as sad as it is to say it (and despite how, as we all know it, skull still absolutely does, and has always taken issue with that disrespect.)

and when he should be the ones in charge in his interactions like with enma and the shimon, it just doesn’t work because of his appearance as a baby that just doesn’t let anyone not in the know of the arco (and arco curse) take him seriously (the poor guy just can’t win lol). so it’s a bit hard to think about what the reverse looks like because we have little to go by to do so, but i think it's still manageable! like you said there’s the fact he ranks pretty high in the carcassa family, being their military commander, and does have direct subordinates under his command, yeah. even if we only see them in action like, twice if we include the arco trials arc? whatever lol.

there’s also the things skull says, like how reborn is the only one who treats him as an errand boy, how he isn’t the same person he used to be back when he was chosen as an arco, how he couldn’t think of anyone to ask to be his representatives despite aforementioned high rank in his family and direct subordinates under his command, and how he isn’t great at making friends.

and finally there’s the way other people see skull, like the background characters during the mafia land attack or the varia when they fought against him. (wait i feel like i’m digressing and i haven’t even said anything relevant yet?? but i’m going somewhere with this, i swear lol.)

(also i’m going to use the arco trials arc as a reference for this post even if i know it’s not canon, but i’d have very little to go by otherwise lol, so we’ll all just have to deal with it. <3)

i want to first focus on how skull acts when he is the superior to someone, because even if it’s not necessarily always a hard-and-fast rule, the way he’d be treated in turn would be a reflection of that, right? and i have to disagree that he acts the same as when he’s on the other side of the power balance! like yes he gets flustered at times and forgets to keep being professional about it when he does, but he still never forgets he is the one in charge even then. and more interestingly, he seems to never question the fact everyone else knows too he’s still the one in charge and will act accordingly even then.

and based on that i’d say it’s because skull knows without a doubt he earned to be the one in charge, and like, he would know that, wouldn’t he? like skull’s a hard-worker full stop. and for how much he may at times speaks highly of himself and does think highly of himself, it’s because it’s all based on facts that give him the ground to do so. and it may make it appear to others like he takes things for granted, like the fact people will naturally show him respect, but it’s actually that he knows he earned and deserves to get these things.

i mean, the world’s greatest stuntman? no way in hell there’s a lazy/easy way to get there even if skull wanted to take it, and no way in hell he managed to get this far by not solidly and fully working to have the actual skills to get there. so even if we say the carcassa family took him in just because of his title as an arco, so they could use it as a political tool and a, like, “better think twice before messing with us, because just look at who we have on our side” tool (< can’t find the succinct words for that lol), they wouldn’t have gone as far as give him such a high position with the means and men and authority and influence that come with it if he hadn’t first proven himself worthy and trustworthy and capable to have them.

skull is also very respectful of his subordinates. not sure if it’s the right way to put it lol, but like he clearly cares about the fact they’re people who have things they care about and would like to come back to too, just like him. he sees them as people first before he sees them as his subordinates he has full power over, which he could abuse at their expense if he wanted. and it doesn’t translate here to him trying to keep them out of danger, what with him leading them to attack mafia land knowing full well colonnello would be the enemy even if he didn’t know reborn would be there too, and making them attack vongola decimo in the arco trials arc, etc, but it’s because danger just comes with the job as mafiosi, and he can hardly make them avoid it without making them all lose their job entirely lol.

so instead he goes on the front-lines with them, and fights with them, and even makes a point to put himself right where there’s the most danger so to do the hardest part of the missions himself. during the mafia land attack he’s the one who ends up fighting against reborn, and presumably he ended up there because he was on his way to personally deal with colonnello. and during his arco trial, again he’s the one who fights against tsuna with oodako. so skull’s effectively always telling his subordinates “seeing as you’re bound by duty to risk your lives following my orders, the least i can do is to be there with you making sure those orders won't fail you. and should they fail you, then i intend to be there with you too to take the fall with you”. and on the note of him valuing the lives of his subordinates and trying to keep them safe when he can, he’s also ready to risk his life to do that like we saw with enma.

but before i add more to this particular scene because it actually says something interesting about skull as a superior, let me make my next point first about skull also being very dutiful when it comes to the responsibilities he’s given and agreed to take. all the missions we saw him lead failed, but he never even once seemed to have considered not seeing them to the end anyway. like he may or may not have thought he had his chances against colonnello during the mafia land attack, but as soon as he realized reborn was there too, he must have known they weren’t going to win no matter what. same thing with tsuna, when he immediately realized he wasn’t going to win against him (btw irrelevant but i just rewatched that fight, and skull is fucking hilarious and we don’t talk enough about it). yet in both cases he still sticks it through to the end, and tries his best to do what he was there to do and agreed to do, instead of ordering a tactical retreat or something.

re: him saving enma from the varia tho, because that dutifulness of his doesn’t always go to his mission, but also to his subordinates. and going by what happened with enma, he seems to put his duty to his subordinates first.

and i really find it interesting because it’s not just about how he values people’s lives before any kind of mission, even one that could end up with him getting free of his curse. and it’s not just about how he values even more people’s lives when they’re under his responsibility and end up at risk to begin with because they were following him. i think i already said it in another post of mine, but the way i see it his reasoning goes something like this: skull commits to the things he signed up for and resolves himself to see them to the end no matter what, but only as long as they remain the things he signed up for.

so reborn unexpectedly being at mafia land when he attacked it? and tsuna being a lot stronger than he expected him to be? well too bad and it sure made his job a lot harder, but ultimately the parameters of his mission stayed the same, taking over mafia land and testing tsuna on his charisma, and so he sucked it up and followed through to the end. but a very interesting thing he says before he goes to help enma iirc is something like “i didn’t know this would be a matter of life and death”. because until then his understanding of the representative battles was that they just needed to destroy the other boss watches, and that’s what he intended to hold up enma to from the moment he agreed to become his representative.

so when the varia seemed about to kill him? all bets were off instantly and he immediately stepped up to stop it, and at that moment it had nothing to do with the fact that enma losing would mean he wouldn’t get freed from the curse. it was solely about how enma didn’t sign up for that, and how skull himself didn’t sign up for making anyone risk their life to free him from his curse.

and the representative battles were of course a very unique situation, but taking them as a basis, what i’m trying to say here is that when it comes to the rules of the mafia, which skull presumably agreed to sign up for once he made peace with the fact he was now mafia, he did not, in fact, signed up for them, and in fact couldn’t care less about them.

i said once that for skull being mafia is nothing more than a part-time job (lol), and i still very much stand by it tbh. and whether he made peace or not with the fact he’d be mafia for the rest of his life, independently from whether or not he’d ever end up free from the curse, he still evidently makes it a point to make it happen on his own terms as much as possible. so he commits to it and compromises with it and plays along with its rules, but only in the way you’d do with a job you agreed to do, because he has to see the mafia like that at the very least if he wants to survive in it. but it’s also the way he sees it at most, because unlike almost all the other characters in the manga, he absolutely refuses to let the mafia and the fact he’s a mafioso become a lifestyle to him.

which means, to get back to the point, when you put him in a position where he has power over other people’s lives, not only he makes part of his duties coming from that position about keeping those people safe, but he also makes it his first priority too without a second thought, making it take precedence over everything else. over his duties to his pride as a mafioso (< which he doesn’t give a shit about anyway, or at least not in the way where he’s ever going to let people die for it if he can help it at all), over his duties to his family by doing everything to complete his missions so it can benefit it even if it means casualty, and over his duties to the loyalty that binds all mafiosi to the mafia and to whatever, wherever or whoever in the mafia they chose to lay down their loyalties for.

idk if that was very comprehensible lol? but basically what i’m saying is that because he’s a former civilian, skull’s able to not give a shit about what he’s being told and is witnessing everywhere mafiosi should care about and how they should act, which lets him put the most value in having a very small scale, spontaneous and individualistic sense of duty so to speak. it lets him decide and stay true to his resolve that yes, the safety of the people he can see right there in front of him is the most important factor he needs to keep in mind, and even more so if he’s the one responsible for it. and whatever consequences that might come from that, he can deal with it later.

so based on all that, how do i personally think skull’s subordinates treat him in return? honestly the first words that come to mind is deep respect and trust.

respect because they must have seen him putting in the work to work his way up the ranks and earn it every step of the way until he became their boss, and so they know without a doubt he has the skills to pull it off, on top of knowing he’s capable, reliable, trustworthy and hard-working. and tho it wouldn’t be hard for skull to impress them and earn their respect like that because they’re playing in entirely different leagues, and on that note the mere fact he’s an arco can only play a part here too, we know it’s all also objectively true. because for how much the arco don’t like or want to say or show it to his face for whatever reason lol, so skull himself doesn’t think they do because of that, they still clearly have no doubt he deserves to be an arco and has what it takes to be one. and the varia also acknowledged his abilities and called him a monster back in the rainbow arc because he quite literally walked off their strongest attacks combined like no big deal. and of course seeing those undoubtedly big shots recognize skull would only make his men respect him more.

deep trust, and i’d even say unwavering trust too, because of aforementioned knowledge he has what it takes to be their boss, but i mean it here more in the sense that not only they know skull has the skills to be their boss, but they also know he cares that he is their boss. that he’s responsible for them, for their safety, for their lives. and he constantly proves to them that not only he values them, but also prioritizes them above everything else, which absolutely wouldn’t be something expected of him or something people would bat an eye at if he didn’t, because the mafia is just cruel like that. so being valued by the people above you isn’t necessarily uncommon by no means, but i think for most, if not all of skull’s men, it’s actually a first that they’re the first priority. because as mafiosi there are just other things you’re expected to prioritize first, and the more high ranked you are, the more true it is.

but skull doesn’t do that, and is so committed to not do that, he even fights alongside them on the front-lines, which also tells them that all the orders he gives them, all the courses of action he decides they’ll take are ones he truly believes will lead them to success while keeping them as safe as possible. which of course makes it even easier to trust him, and to not let place to any doubt about whether he’s just using them as bait or throwing them away by sending them into suicide missions to make his job easier. basically they’re not just a means to an end to him, and he constantly proves that to them.

for me they also feel a deep and unwavering loyalty to him. like on the note about them being able to be certain his orders are always given in good-faith, you’ll also notice they literally never question them at all. like they’re so incredibly ride or die for skull, it’s honestly impressive when you consider the only other times we see that same kind of loyalty is within the guardians/sky or mafia boss/family members dynamics. (WAIT actually there’s mukuro and the kokuyo gang too, and there’s definitely something to say about that but idk what lol, and it’s not the point here anyway.) but under skull’s command they were meant to be the enemies of three arco (reborn, nello and verde) and vongola decimo of all people (poor guys lmao), and they still didn’t bat an eye about it. so it seems wherever skull goes they go, and whatever he orders them to do they do, no questions asked.

and if they feel that way it’s simply because skull is loyal to them too and has consistently remained so, re: him prioritizing them first and foremost, and making his sense of duty be about them first and foremost. and it’s kind of wholesome actually, i love that for all of them. <3

another angle of the way they might treat him that’s more supposition here than anything else, but i feel like they’d feel secure and safe in being casual and comfortable with him, and would know they’re allowed to be. if for no other reason than i just know skull wouldn’t care about his subordinates always “remembering their place”, by bowing to him whenever they see him and stuff like that, and in fact would be super uncomfortable with it. so i can see them be lighthearted with each other and crack jokes together and such.

now i feel like i described a very deferential way they’d treat skull, and like, yes i do believe they treat him exactly like that, but i’m not saying skull is the perfect superior by no means. like he doesn’t think things through, and doesn’t plan for the unexpected, or not as much as he should anyway, and also gets flustered easily by said unexpected things happening. and tho like i said i don’t agree he’d let his insecurities get the best of him when in business mode so to speak (he does do that with enma and the shimon, but like discussed it’s because he isn’t fully in charge with them even if he should be), i totally believe he’s goofy and fucks up and makes stupid mistakes at times. i mean, it’s skull, you know lol.

but he always pulls through when push comes to shove, even if it doesn’t necessarily mean success. and when it comes to the way he treats his subordinates, despite them not being his guardians or them being--as far as we can tell--no-names in the family and thus expendable? i WILL say that is as close to a perfect superior as you can get in the mafia. so yes i do think they see skull that highly and treat him with that much high-regard, because skull’s simply consistently and constantly going out of his way to earn it from them.

(it’s the same for tsuna btw. their situation aren’t exactly similar of course, but just throwing this out there, don’t mind me.)

but okay, now get this because this is where it gets interesting yet again, and really interesting in this case, because that wholesome relationship they have? it’s strictly professional. like, it has to be when even after--what? a couple of years at least, if not a decade or so, right? he still doesn’t consider them as friends, and/or doesn't think they consider him as a friend even if he does. and either he didn’t consider them at all as potentially willing to be his representatives, or did consider them and assumed they’d refuse.

and it really stands out when we know the mafia in khr is all about family and binding closeness and loyalty to your family. and skull and his men are that too, but seemingly in the “we’re all part of the same family and so act with each other and treat each other as such” way, and not in the “i call and see you, specifically, as family too. you the individual, and not just you as someone else who just so happens to be part of the family too” too.

idk if you get what i mean here?? but for how close they are as mafiosi doing their part as members of the same mafia family, there’s no emotional closeness there, no attachment to the person as well as the mafioso, and more importantly, no attachment to the person independently from the mafioso. which again is so unique because in all the other hierarchical dynamics we were shown, off the top of my head anyway, the two always overlapped. but skull, by his own admission, always seems to come short to make it happen.

so it seems skull is incredibly good within a formal organizational structure like you said, is incredibly good at understanding the standards in place and then making it so he rises to them, but only when it comes to the professional/public aspects of his life. when it comes to the emotional/private ones tho? he struggles to be acknowledged and recognized, let alone to connect with people, let alone to grow close to them, and seems to have always struggled to do so. and idk if it’s because he’s not so good at knowing what people expect him to be instead of what they expect him to be able to do, or if he is just as good as doing that too, but then doesn’t manage to rise to those expectations for whatever reason.

and i really do think it’s interesting, because it puts other things we know about him into a different perspective. namely the way he’s so hell-bent in making the arco explicitly acknowledge and recognize him and show him respect. because he could just not care that they don’t, right? it’d just be seven people who don’t, while the rest of the world isn’t so difficult about recognizing he deserves to be given that.

but maybe he just needs them to recognize it too, because getting acknowledged for the things he’s able to do and puts in the work to be able to do is the closest to an emotional bond he’s ever managed to have, let alone a close one. and so, unbeknownst to the arco, it hits him somewhere raw and already hurting that they just keep refusing to give him that no matter what he does.

it’s also even more interesting when you think about how the shimon, especially adel, just gave him zero chance to be the one in charge in their relationship lol. and given no choice but to emotionally bond with them on equal ground, he actually managed to do that so successfully he stayed with them post the rainbow arc, and they agreed to take him in. so it seems skull just can’t manage to both do things people want him to do and be the things they want him to be at the same time? or he just can’t do both full stop, for whatever reason. and i just realized that right now so idk what to make of it yet, but there’s definitely something to say about that.

anyway, new side of skull unlocked, so thanks for that van. <3 also this ended up being long, and hopefully not by being entirely irrelevant to the matter at hand zesdghghg. hope it gave you some food for thought at the very least, and much love to you too! 💖

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khr meta #khr skull #khr asks #scprpip

[dameronology]

Hi! How r u? Idk if u still write for peter parker but if you do would u be able to write him comforting reader who is scared to go to uni/college? I start uni this Saturday im so scared lmao I think I've forgotten how to make friends no worries if not tho x

of course!! i hope uni goes well for, i'm in my 3rd year now so if you ever wanna talk/need advice pls feel free to hmu or send me an anon message, i remember how fucking scary it can be

peter picks up on it before you even tell him; he's observant as hell at the best of times but especially when it comes to you

he can see it in the way you used to be super excited at the idea of university - you spend most of your final year of school barely shutting up about it but then the months leading up to it turn into weeks and you barely mention the subject

and when someone else brings it up, you would go nervous and quiet

peter approaches the subject in a gentle manner - asks if you're okay and if you need any help sorting stuff out before you move

it's hard not to open up to him; not only because you have the kind of relationship where you want to tell him everything, but because he genuinely has such a warm and welcoming presence that he's super easy to talk to

he just holds you at first and listens as you let it all out

if you want to cry, he's game for that but just venting is fine too

he kind of wants to distract you but he knows that won't help

after all, his aunt always taught him that the best way to deal things is to actually deal with them

so he starts by talking; by reminding you of why you're going and how excited you've always been

most of all he reminds you that you're 100% capable of doing it and that you shouldn't let yourself be held back by the fear

there's definitely a spiderman anecdote in there too. probably something about how he was scared to be a superhero and now he's saved the world and yada yada yada

peter finds any excuse to bring it up really

that aside, you know he has a good point - that it's important not to let the fear of something make you forget why you're doing it

after that talk, that's when he'll work on distracting you

he'll probably make you hot chocolate and settle you down under a warm blanket with some hot chocolate

he'll help you pack too!! peter is meticulously organised so it'll be a long and tedious process but hell, if it doesn't make your life easier in the long run

and you can bet he's visiting you every weekend as well

headcanon requests are open!!

#asks #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker headcanons #peter parker reader insert #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #avengers imagines #avengers imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagines #spiderman headcanons #spiderman reader insert

[laufire]

last night I went to a showing of En los márgenes (the English title is "On The Fringe"). it's a film mainly focused on the eviction problem in Spain, although it also touches other issues -immigration, social services, job insecurity, etc. I liked it a lot; it was very real and gutting (especially when you know other than the main characters the people in the Stop Desahucios organisation shown are actually part of it irl and those are their stories), but that's beside the point. mainly it's one of those films I leave wanting to have a long talk with the director lol.

(spoilers ahead, obviously. I do recommend watching the film and I'm of the opinion spoilers don't ruin good things, but YMMV)

said director, btw, is Juan Diego Botto. some of you in Tumblr might know him from Good Behavior? it wasn't too popular around here, I don't think, but I have seen people talk about it at least. he played a killer for hire next to Michelle Dockery's con artist thief xD

anyway. as I said. I wanna talk to him about it. after we spent probably a good hour or two expanding on the most important parts of the film, like the housing problem and social welfare and community outreach, and then a brief detour where I tell him I like him in Good Behavior but I like Dockery better xD, I REALLY want to pick his brain about what are his thoughts on husbands and fathers (and men in families in general) because I gotta say, I felt VERY in-sync with this film on that regard LMAO.

first of all, I'm very amused by the role he gave himself. I get why he wouldn't play the salt of the earth activist lawyer since that might've been too big a part to do while directing (plus like, if you have Luis Tosar as an actor that was clearly HIS part. now, why isn't he one of the ugly old balding celebrity man I find on the streets. he's a TALENTED ugly old balding celebrity man at least). but he could've just as easily played that poor woman's son, whose story was more tragic and a tad more sympathetic, and who at least ended the movie desperately trying to right his wrongs.

but nope! he played the part of a husband whose wounded pride was completely screwing his wife and son, instead of actually supporting them. he didn't even get to kiss Penelope Cruz about it xD. I kinda expected the character to get a redeeming moment at the end, like joining his wife and Stop Desahucios when they're fighting the cops to stop his family's eviction, but we just have a moment with him looking at them from afar with an :O expression. we don't know if he's still ashamed they need their help and that he still thinks what his wife is doing is "an embarrassment", or if he's finally touched by the show of support, or what.

now I want to discuss the lawyer because his character really hammered home one of the principles I firmly believe in, which is that even arguably good men make for shitty husband's and disappointing father figures in our society xDD. like I said he was played by Luis Tosar, which automatically makes me a little more lenient, I can't deny that (OTOH boy, did the character remind me of my own father aldjskk. that balanced it a little!). and yes, he tries to help people in need, and helps that immigrant mother whose daughter the cops took away. and looking at the bigger picture, which IS my default position, that's more important than the stepson's trip and MAYBE even than the wife having company in that medical procedure, although that part was really shitty... but maybe in that case you shouldn't try to be a Family Man if you aren't wired that way, or make promises you can't fucking keep as the stepson accuses him of (when the wife told him at the beginning that he should've warned her she was going to have to deal with the pregnancy alone... fuck him etc.).

I also feel more lenient about him than about Botto's character because the story ends with the wife kicking him out lmao. she doesn't even discuss it with him or gives him a chance to talk it out, she just leaves a suitcase on the street next to the apartment. it was glorious xD. he and the stepson have a nice progression and end on a good note, with the son telling him to be around (and hey, maybe he'll actually keep that promise...), but the wife said "enough" and it took, which I love. and I appreciate how the film made the point a couple of times to say SHE was the one bringing home more money, and that's why she COULD kick him out and be fine. something that subtly contrasts with the marriage between Cruz and Botto's characters, which ends on a bad note but doesn't definitely end, because that's not an option for her.

there's also the other story, with the old woman whose son is too ashamed to have screwed up once to be there for his widowed mother until it's probably too late. that one was absolutely gutting too, and gendered in a different, less usual way.

I'm just rambling at this point but TL;DR: even married women are single mothers. motherhood is a thankless tragedy. men's pride has a body count. very in-sync, as I said lol. Juan Diego Botto let's discuss this. I want to know how much of this is conscious thought or whether you'd feel defensive about it xD

#talking to the void #my thoughts #en los márgenes #on the fringe #current issues #feminism #movies

[atopearth]

BUSTAFELLOWS Part 5 - Scarecrow Route

Scarecrow is so cute, I love how he was even more excited for Teuta possibly winning the award and getting autograph sessions, and then he became even more nervous than her lmao. I found it adorable how they looked at the results together. Oooh the white bikini with blue denim shorts is pretty cute!! I still prefer Helvetica's since I find this one a bit plain but I guess it kinda suits Teuta haha. Honestly, when I first started Bustafellows, I thought the game was about the guys cooperating together dealing out their forms of justice hahaha. I know it's not now, but I'm kinda happy to see that Scarecrow is doing something interesting even if it's not necessarily about justice. I love how Teuta kept haggling with Scarecrow on how much money she gets for helping haha. Teuta was so reliable when she got that informant guy to talk more and verify his information source!

I wonder if Scarecrow has a split personality? Anyway, Teuta preparing a proper Christmas party for Scarecrow was so sweet!! Aww, Teuta and Scarecrow playing the piano together was cute. Lmao when he went for the kiss on the cheek as "good luck" for kissing under mistletoe right after he said he wouldn't be like Helvetica hahaha. Considering how much thought and effort Teuta put into planning the party though, I'm sure he really wanted to thank her and show how happy he was in his own shy way haha. Rather than his back story, I'm more surprised that Scarecrow's real name is actually Crow!! Anyway, I do feel bad for Scarecrow, he was young and didn't know the consequences of being a cracker for that organisation and it ended up causing him trauma due to his father's death and all the torture he went through when he told them he wanted to leave. For Scarecrow's sake, I'm glad Shu kinda exposed him and got him to open up to everyone and not feel like he has to hide everything about himself. Must have been a real shock for Scarecrow to have blamed himself for his father's death for so many years only to discover that his father is actually alive and probably the hacker that helped him back then, and is probably a slave to Constantine and them to protect Crow? I felt so terrified for Teuta when Crow gave up on struggling in the water when she was trying her best to give him air and save him.

I think it's really sweet and kind of Teuta to care more about Crow than her own well-being, but it's also very dangerous, so I'm glad Shu stopped her tbh, I mean, Crow nearly strangled her to death! It's sad that Teuta felt like she had to be strong for Crow even though she was still really scared😭 On the other hand, every time I realise how important all the guys and Teuta are to Crow and how he truly considers them family because he was all alone before and hated that makes me so sad for him. He wants to protect his family and yet something out of his control is making him endanger them instead, he must feel terrible. Even though I feel like the drama with Constantine was solved wayyy too easily for something that was supposed to be so big, I'm happy that Crow and his father Kyle are both safe and got to share their thoughts and feelings with each other so I guess it's nice. Honestly, Crow isn't my type but the confession and stuff was kinda cute I guess haha. Crow's bad ending was very sad though. Honestly, I felt like the way to get to it was dumb though, like Teuta could still have told him the code and try to "stop him" by telling him how important he is to them etc but yeah. I can understand why Crow would choose to end things knowing that his appearance and existence made his dad die "twice" and right in front of his eyes too. I think that video showing how his father begged them to let Crow go before getting killed was the worse because it was on an eternal loop, that was just cruel.

Crow may not be conventionally "cool" but I agree with Teuta, him giving her the gelato she liked more and stuff like that is cool enough for me haha. I love how Kyle and Crow are finally catching up on their father-son relationship, it was especially cute when Kyle bought Crow picture books and stuff because he wanted to give him a present but didn't know what to get, and only realised afterwards that Crow is an adult now and not a child anymore. But knowing that these books etc were things Crow's mother wanted to read to him before he was born makes the presents very sweet. Teuta and Crow bumping their teeth into each other when they try to go for their first kiss is exactly what I expect from Crow and her lollll. Sharing their first kiss alongside the New Year's fireworks is such a romantic thing, I can imagine that being one of Crow's dreams haha. Lmao when Crow said he would want to eat her sandwiches everyday and Teuta said she doesn't want to make them everyday😂😂😂 Lolll at the mud fight, they're such kids😂 I don't blame Mozu for getting mad at them, I can't imagine the mud in the car and everything omggg. Crow researching, watching videos and doing image raining to try his best to make a hamburg steak for Teuta is the cutest thing ever, I would be so touched by all that effort even if it tasted bad haha.

Overall, Crow’s route was all right. It was cute but I guess I wasn’t too into the drama in it, especially with Crow’s trauma and stuff. But I did enjoy seeing the guys work together because that’s what I really wanted to see in this game more lol. But yeah, I think it was adorable to see Teuta be with someone “less mature” and kinda grow along with but also be super silly with. He’s still not my type, but I appreciated how sweet it was to see how nervous Crow would be, but also how adorable it was to see how hard he tried to do things to make Teuta happy, he’s such a cinnamon roll haha.

#BUSTAFELLOWS