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obae-me · 3 months

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Would He Peel The Orange?

(I hope this hasn't been done too much already, but I really wanted to do it) So, if you've been in the same internet circle as I've been in, you probably know about this trend that's going around right now where people ask their partner to peel an orange for them. It's supposed to kind of signify your partner's willingness to do something important to you, even if it seems mundane or even inconvenient for them. So of course, I wanted to imagine what our favorite boys would do in this scenario.

Note: This is just for silly goofy times. A little ha-ha funny jape, if you will. Meaning not serious. If I think a character would not peel an orange, I don't think they're suddenly toxic or would not love the MC or anything.

"Could you peel an orange for me?"

Lucifer

To those of you who say he is too prideful to peel an orange for you, do I need to point out that he is the eldest sibling? Not only that, but he's practically a single mom. He has Sloth as the baby brother of the family. Do you think Belphie peels his own oranges? No! Lucifer probably cuts the crusts off of his brother's sandwiches for heaven sakes.

Is it heaven sakes or heaven's sake?... I actually don't know

However, I do think he would get suspicious, especially if you're trying to film his reaction. He would raise an eyebrow and know that there's something more to you just wanting an orange. Is this orange cursed? Is this a prank? You'll have to convince him it's perfectly normal before he straight up refuses.

Is he going to get up from his desk or move away from work to go grab you an orange? Probably not. But if you bring it to him, he will peel it for you, giving you a weird- and maybe slightly judging- look the entire time.

He will peel it very nicely, but you would have to take the peel back to toss yourself all while demanding to know why you have such a smirk on your face.

If you explain it to him, he'll definitely get a bit smug. "Who knew all it would take to prove my love to you was peeling an orange? If you needed some assurance, I would've gladly provided more for you."

He wins this one. He peeled the orange.

But...he might be asking his own favor from you later. So, minus one point for that, but they do say the devil dances in dealings, so...

7/10

Mammon

"Huh? Why do you need me to peel it for you, your hands broken or somethin'? I'm not your damn maid."

He is already peeling the orange. He is somehow managing to grumble and act like he's not doing it while he is in the process of doing it.

And if you don't have oranges on hand? Just give him any excuse to go shopping and he will take it. And not only will he peel those oranges, he'll buy them for you too.

And sure maybe he's a little ditsy and might not know what the difference between an orange, a tangerine, and a clementine is (they're all orange, dammit), but he will be buying you ALL of them just in case.

Listen, he's a man with impulse problems and an intense desire to be your number one demon.

Did he probably spend the next few hours in the store getting himself stuff as well? Probably, yeah. He see shiny, he get shiny.

But don't worry. He will peel you that orange.

And you will be eating an assortment of orange colored fruits for the next few days.

Is...this a peach?

9/10

Levi

If he's gaming, probably not. Some games can't be paused. And it's not even that he doesn't want to, he'll probably be glad to do so, but he'll do it once this round is over.

And then he'll probably forget. Which, fair, I do it too. You get into the zone and then six hours have passed. Sometimes the measure of love can't always be held behind an orange.

However!

If a controller is not in his hand and his mind is not occupied by several random colorful flashes, he might peel the orange.

BUT

If too many other people are around, he might get anxiety.

You know when you somehow manage to fumble peeling an orange? You can't manage to break the peel properly or you end up dropping it and looking like a fool?

If you've never had performance anxiety over peeling an orange, you... well that's actually really good, you must have a much more peaceful mind-- but it exists for us anxious people, okay?! It's too much pressure!

In the end, he's very situational! But that doesn't mean he refuses to peel you an orange! It would actually make him very happy to do that for you...

5/10

Satan

Very confused. Will ask too many questions before he does anything.

Are you hurt? Is the peel too tough for human fingers? If you're having a hard time using your fingers, why not get a knife or a tool to assist you? Why are you in his room rather than the kitchen? Is that not a waste of energy? What if he'd not been here, would you have wandered around?

He doesn't get it. He means well though.

He might get a little irritated, not so much at you as at himself. He feels like he's missing something.

Is this some form of human bonding? Are you afraid of the orange? What secrets does it hold?

He will peel it for you. He'll even put his book down to do so.

But please answer his questions, he can't find the logic in seeking him out just to peel a fruit for you. He can list off several other more efficient methods.

If you explain it to him, you'll see him visibly relax. So there was some deeper meaning.

Although now he might think that this form of act is some sort of love declaration. Prepare to have him peel and/or cut all your fruits from now on. Which... is actually kind of sweet. What a gentleman.

8/10

Asmo

No... with his nails?! Please. I've only worn fake nails like twice in my entire life, and doing anything like that with those little suckers hurts like hell. Why?? Tried to open a can once and thought my real nail would peel right off.

And even if he's not wearing fake nails, getting that pulpy orange peel underneath your fingernails?! Having the juice make your fingers all sticky? No. Awful. Bad texture. I've always headcanoned Asmo with texture issues, and if his are even close to being like mine, it's gonna be a no.

BUT

If you want an orange so badly, I can guarantee he knows all these cute little places around town that make delicious fruit selections! He'd probably go out and get you one of those beautiful and decorative edible fruit arrangements and make sure they somehow include lots of orange.

Or, if you don't want that and you just want a normal orange right NOW, he'll charm someone else to peel it for you, hon. Don't even worry.

And once it's peeled, to make up for not doing it himself, he'll be all to happy to feed it to you if you want him to. ~

Never underestimate the lengths he'll go to provide for you and himself at the same time.

6.5/10 I appreciate the hustle.

Beel

I... I mean... he's gonna eat it.

Love the man to death, but if you hand him an orange before you fully preface that it's yours and you just want it peeled, it's gone. He probably didn't even peel it before he ate it too. Probably just eats it like an apple.

But, but, but, he'll get you a new one. So please don't look so sad...

It might be best if you accompany him just in case, but he'll absolutely get you another one. Besides, he wants more himself now, that first one was delicious.

He'll gather a whole basket of oranges and you can share them together.

One slice for you...five for him. Another slice for you...

It make take a minute to get a full orange's worth, but it's about the attempt and the time spent. And he's technically actually peeling SO many oranges for you.

I'd also like to point out that I have actually written out a scene in one of my stories where Beel actually EXACTLY peels an orange FOR MC. WAY before this trend was a thing.

--Eventually he came across an orange, peeling off the wax shell meant to serve as extra preservation. Citrus flooded your nose. Your mouth actually watered at the scent, watching Beel strip the fruit before peeling it apart. A sniff, and then it was actually handed to you.

So he would! 100 times over! Even in my silly little side story where everyone is nearly on the brink of death and in a freezing wasteland, he would still peel an orange for you!

10/10 Minus one point for eating your orange first, plus one point for peeling you an orange in another universe.

Belphie

Y...yeah, no. No, he won't.

Or there's at least a very slim chance he will. He does get in weird moods sometimes where he wants to pamper you, but that's on his own terms and his own time.

He doesn't even peel his own oranges, as I previously stated in Lucifer's section.

If you just waltz up to him and ask him to peel it for you...there's a 95% chance he will not. Most of it being due to him being asleep. You would probably have a better chance trying to train him to peel an orange while sleepwalking. That might work. Would also probably make a good party trick.

But, he's weird at remembering details like this. Even if he doesn't act on it right now, it will be logged in his memory. You could mention something briefly once seven months ago and he'll bring it up to you and remember the conversation completely like it happened yesterday.

So, even if he doesn't peel the orange now, when he's in the mood, maybe after his nap, maybe the next day, maybe two weeks after in which you had forgotten it, he will bring you a peeled orange.

Either that or he'll do what Asmo does and make someone else peel it for you.

3/10

Diavolo

You want him to peel your orange for you? You mean... he gets to treat someone like that for once?! ABSOLUTELY.

He is all too happy to peel you an orange! This is like, groundbreaking for him. He gets to provide! Gets to hand you a tiny fruit, broken and prepared with his own two hands! Is this how Barbatos feels when he cooks?

How does one exactly peel an orange, though?... He's seen them whole like this before, but they're typically already in strips when he gets around to eating them.

Break the skin? What, like an egg?

Well...there goes your orange.

On the bright side, it seems he's very good at making orange juice.

But fear not! He'll have Barbatos bring another one!

Wait...look, see, they come pre-peeled. Oh...you mean Barbatos has been peeling all his fruits for him this entire time? He's never known the joyful luxury of unveiling and working for the literal fruits of his labor?! This will change today.

Get another orange, unpeeled, and he will do it himself this time!

It might take some personal discovery and some patience before he peels you an orange, but it will get done, he swears it!

11/10 Plus one point for wholesome life lessons and sheer determination.

Barbatos

An orange? Just a plain orange? If you wait just a moment, he could have an orange chiffon cake, or would you perhaps prefer some orange panna cotta? Orange Merengue pie? Pound cake? Made into a buttercream? A pudding? A sorbet? A sherbet? Served as a juice? Main flavor or just as a zest? Would you like a meal before dessert? Or he could always find healthier options for oranges? Would you like him to list of those options as well?

Okay, so... he overcorrects a little bit.

Bottom line is, he'd peel you an orange. He'd make an entire seven course meal based around oranges. Make it all the color orange if you'd prefer.

Like I said though, he tends to overdo it.

He falls into his royal butlery habits and misses the fact that this is supposed to be so important to you because it's so simple. Although it's cute the way an ever powerful ever perfect being can miss such a detail.

You might have to put your foot down a bit and not let yourself get carried away in the splendor. You just want this orange. This one orange, and if he could just peel it for you, that's all you want.

So he'll take his gloves off and peel it for you. He'll make sure all the extra little white strands are plucked off as well. And he double checks it for seeds.

Are you sure this is all you want? "I guess something so simple can often be taken for granted. I forget that sometimes."

12/10 He'll probably still end up making you several other orange treats and he learned a valuable lesson today. It's a win for everyone.

Simeon

Are you kidding me?

This man probably brought the orange with him. You probably didn't even need to bring it up! He's single dad with two one kid and a sorcerer. He's like that sweet mom who always has certain things on hand. Medicine? Bandages? Spare cash? Candy? Gum? He's got it. He puts the Guardian in guardian angel.

You want that orange? He'll peel that orange, you just hold on. Let's make sure your hands are clean. Use this hand sanitizer he brought with him. Here, have a granola bar while you're at it. Are you hungry? You didn't skip lunch, did you? Here, take this water bottle, you look a bit dehydrated.

Oh dear, and your hands feel so dry! Here, he brought some lotion.

This angel is 100% fully here for you. You are about to be so taken care of.

Not even oranges. You want your apples fully peeled and sliced? Got it. Want something pitted? He can do that too. He'd be willing to stain his fingers and clothes on a pomegranate for you. How is he doing this even outside of the house? Magic or something probably.

He'd pack you an orange in a cute little bag with a hand written note and a short poem.

This man is a real one.

100/10 He definitely thinks that LOL means lots of love.

Solomon

Are...you sure you know what you're doing? He will absolutely peel you an orange, but at what cost?

If you're not careful, not only will he peel you an orange, but he'll add some of his Special Solomon Spices to make your experience all the more... thrilling.

Quite like how thrilling bungee jumping in the dark could be...

Also, he might just try to peel it with magic, which, while nice of him, defeats the purpose of the entire test.

You'll have to specify he's to do it by hand, and keep an unblinking, ever-careful eye on him to make sure he doesn't 'enhance' the flavor.

But, all in all, he does it. Quite happily too, one might add.

Are you sure you just want an orange? He'd be glad to whip something up for you if you're feeling peckish!

You kind of... tempt fate with this one.

2/10 One point for wanting to peel the orange, one point for trying to go the extra mile. But... well... Will you survive is the thing? You might want to try to measure his love for you using different non-edible methods.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon

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lackadaisycats · 1 year

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I tried to answer this succinctly, but it turned into an essay. (Sorry.)

The Princess and the Frog was not accurate, strictly speaking, but dinging it for that would be like criticizing the Lion King for not being a realistic wildlife documentary. Accuracy wasn't really the point. Given the fantastical elements and fictional nations like “Maldonia”, I suppose we're meant to understand this as a bit removed from the real New Orleans. It's more a a jazz-flavored fairy tale than a historical fiction.

But for discussion's sake....

Is it fashion-accurate to its 1926 timeframe? Ehhh, sort of. It pays homage to 20s fashion trends with cloche hats, furs and feathery headpieces, but without fully committing to it. The waistline on almost all of Tiana's clothing is too high for the 20s, and the the shapes of her fancier costumes take a lot of liberties, or deviate wildly from the style of the period.

In the 20s, dresses (including workaday stuff) tended to have a straight up-and-down shape to it - kind of a low-waisted rectangle that de-emphasized curves instead of highlighting them. There are valid reasons to play fast and loose with that, though (something I’m definitely guilty of as well). One of those reasons is communication.

For instance, speculatively, the filmmakers wrote Tiana as a hard-working waitress and wanted her to look the part, so they made the choice to clothe her in something familiar - that gingham dress of mid-century shape that we broadly associate with diner waitresses. Actual waitress uniforms of the 20s had a fair bit of overlap with maid uniforms at the time too, and I can see why they wouldn't want to risk the confusion. It's more important to communicate clearly with the larger audience than to appease a small faction of fashion nerds who'd notice or care about the precision.

I don't think it's a case of the designers failing to do their research - I'm sure they had piles of references, and maybe even consultants - but they also had to have priorities.

With her hat and coat on, she looks a lot more 1920s-shaped.

Pretty consistently, the indication of the characteristic 1920s drop waist is there, but the approach otherwise ignores the 20s silhouette. The clothes hug the body too much. This may be about appealing to a 2000s audience, visually speaking, but also could be an animation thing. Maybe both. For practical reasons, clothes in 2d animation are usually more a sort of second skin than something that wears or behaves like realistic fabric.

These are not in the 1920s ballpark at all. Tiana's blue gown looks like your basic Disney brand invention. Strapless things would have been extremely unusual and the overall shape is far out of step. Excusable, I guess, because it's a costume in context. Charlotte looks like she’s heading for a mimosa brunch in a modern maxi dress.

Charlotte's princess dress did seem to be calling back to the ultra-wide pannier side hoops of the 18th century - something that made a reappearance for part of the 20s, albeit in much milder form called robe de style. I'm not sure if the filmmakers were alluding to that at all, really, but either way, her dress is hilarious.

They only went about halfway with the cloche hats. The 1920s cloche really encapsulated the cranium, almost entirely covered bobbed hair, and obscured much of the face from certain angles, so it's easy to see why they've been somewhat reined in for the film. Still, it ends up looking more 1930s, where the hats started to recede away from the face, evolving in the direction of the pillbox.

Similarly, Tiana's hair is not very reminiscent of the bobbed, close-to-the-cranium style of the period, but I think that could legitimately be written off as characterization. She's not at all the type of person who'd fuss about going à la mode. Not everyone bobbed and finger-waved their hair.

The clothes Prince Naveen is introduced in are very 1920s collegiate in spirit - the wide-leg oxford bags, the sleeveless pullover sweater, the flat cap, and high, stiff collar. The ukulele and banjolele were pretty trendy instruments at the time too.

Definitely some Josephine Baker vibes here. Also, the look of this whole fantasy sequence was reportedly inspired by the works of Aaron Douglas, a luminary painter of the Harlem Renaissance known for his depictions of the lives of African-Americans. (The mural is in Topeka, Kansas.)

They pretty much nailed the Art Deco. It's gorgeous. Looks somewhat inspired by the interiors of some of the Ralph Walker-designed NYC architecture, plus some French Quarter balcony flair for the final manifestation of Tiana's Place. Her dress here does resemble some gauzy mid-1920s looks, too.

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Culturally speaking...

New Orleans is an unusual place. Because some of the colonial Spanish and French laws and conventions that New Orleans evolved under persisted even after its inception into the United States; because it was such a heterogeneous hub of indigenous and immigrant peoples; and because it had a considerable population of free people of color (mostly Creole), it did not function quite like the rest of the South leading up to the Civil War, nor for a while after. Its particular coalescence of cultures made it its own unique sort of culture within the country, within the region, within the state of Louisiana even. By the early 20th century, though, regardless of the not-very-binary nature of New Orleans, Jim Crow laws were enforcing a literal black-and-white distinction, and not an evenhanded one, by far. In that aspect, the city had begun to resemble the rest of the South.

The film nods at the wealth disparity, but goes on to paint a pretty rosy picture of race and class relations at the time. Still it's not unbelievable that some people were exceptions to the rules. You could probably find a few compartments of old New Orleans society that resisted segregation or certain prejudicial norms, preferring to do things their own way. That aside, the film wasn't trying to confront these topics. Not every piece of media should have to. Sometimes breaking away from miserable period piece stereotypes is refreshing. I'm not sure it could have handled that meaningfully given the running time, narrow story focus, and intended audience, anyhow. (But you could perhaps also make a case that family films habitually underestimate younger audiences in this way.)

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Raymond the firefly I guess is the film's Cajun representation. There's not much to say about it, except perhaps to note that Evangeline is a reference to the heroine of a Longfellow poem of the same name. The poem is an epic romance set during the expulsion of the Acadians from the eastern provinces of Canada and the northernmost reaches of the American colonies (now Maine) by the British in the mid-1700s. Many exiled Acadians gradually migrated south to francophone-friendly Louisiana, settling into the prairies and bayous, where 'Acadian' truncated into the pronunciation 'Cajun'. Evangeline - who is only finally reunited with her love when he’s on his deathbed - has become an emblem of the heartbreak, separation and faithful hope of that cultural history, and there are parishes, statues and other landmarks named after the her throughout Louisiana.

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Voodoo does have a very historical presence in New Orleans, having arrived both directly from West Africa and by way of the Haitian diaspora (where it would more properly be called Vodou). While I don't think Disney's treatment of it was especially sensitive or serious, it also wasn't the grotesquely off-base sort of thing that media of the past has been known to do. It was largely whittled down to a magical plot component, but it wasn't so fully repurposed that it didn't resemble Voodoo at all either - and that's mostly owing to the characters, because it does appear the writers pulled from history there.

It’s apparently widely held that Dr. Facilier is a Baron Samedi caricature - and likely that's true, in part - but I have the impression he's also influenced by Doctor John. Not the 20th century funk musician, but the antebellum “Voodoo King” of New Orleans. Doctor John (also called Bayou John, Jean La Ficelle, and other aliases) claimed to be a Senegalese prince. He became well known as a potion man and romance-focused prognosticator to people from all corners of society. Though highly celebrated and financially successful at his peak, he seems ultimately remembered as an exploitative villain.

To my recollection, the film sort of gingerly avoids referring to Facilier as a Voodoo practitioner directly (I think he's more generically called a witch doctor in the script?) but it does seem to imply his 'friends on the other side' are a consortium of loa. It's mostly abbreviated into nebulously evil-seeming special FX, glazing over any specificity or dimensionality, but it does also loop back around as a vehicle of moral justice. Loa are all very individualistic and multi-faceted, but they do have reciprocal rules for asking favors of them.

There's also the benevolent counterpart in Mama Odie's character. Her wearing ritual whites has a definite basis in Voodoo/Vodou practice, and her depiction as a fairy godmother-like figure isn't entirely out of step with how a mambo may have been perceived...in a very general sense. They were/are ceremonial leaders and community bastions who people would seek out for help, advice and spiritual guidance. More than just emanating matronly good vibes, though, some have wielded considerable political and economic power.

(Just my opinions here. I've done a lot of reading on the subject for research but I'm no authority with any special insider understanding of Voodoo, and I really shouldn't be relied upon as an arbiter of who has or hasn't done it justice in fiction.)

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In summary--

Culturally, I think the film is respectably informed but paints a superficially genteel picture. The set pieces are gorgeous, but the story mostly delivers a sort of veneer of New Orleanishness. And as for fashion, well, it’s the 1920s run through a Disney filter. It’s very pretty, but it’s only as proximally accurate as seemed practical.

I don’t know that any of that really matters so much as whether or not it achieved what it intended, though. As a charming yarn and as a tribute to New Orleans and the Jazz age, I think it’s mostly successful. It’s also really beautifully animated!

#princess and the frog #disney #1920s #new orleans #jazz #fashion #voodoo #vodou #history #animation #art deco

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joeys-babe · 4 months

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Joey B Blurbs: More Than A Woman

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Summary: You’re back with more antics and poor Joe is on the receiving end of yet another Tiktok trend. This time it's asking him to name a random woman’s name out of nowhere to see what he'll say…

Warnings: slight angst, unserious/funny

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

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*No specific date for this fic!*

(y/n’s pov)

Joe and I were sitting on the couch watching The Office while we waited for Ja’marr, TB, and Tee to arrive for dinner.

I knew Joe would tone down the coupley stuff when “his boys” arrived, so I was currently savoring the feel of my boyfriend's body against mine.

When I walked into the living room earlier to find him comfy on the couch, I immediately crawled on top of him and laid my head on his chest.

Joe grabbed a blanket and put it on top of us before he slipped his hand under my sweatshirt to rub my back.

Now and then he'd kiss my head or comment on something in the show since the episode currently playing was quite the doozy.

If you know anything about The Office… you probably feel some type of way about the words “Casual Day”.

The episode was messy nonetheless and pretty unforgettable. We had seen it so many times but it still made Joe laugh so many different times.

Since we had seen it so many times, I was increasingly getting bored.

Time to do a little trend with Joe.

I went through my mental folder of different things I could do with him without getting up from my comfortable place in his arms. That's when the idea hit me.

“Hey, baby.” - you

“Mhm?” - Joe

“Name a woman.” - you

“Name a woman?” - Joe

“Yup.” - you

What’s he going to say? I thought.

“Uhm… I don't know, uh… Meredith.” - Joe

“Meredith?” - you busted out laughing

“Yeah.” - Joe nodded

“Like the one in the show? The one’s who's boobies you just saw? Jeez, now I know where your mind is at…” - you

“What?! It's not like that, she was just the first woman that popped into my head. They were blurred out too! I don't need to see some rando’s boobs when I can see yours anytime I want! I swear I wasn't being creepy…” - Joe

The entire time he was seriously trying to defend himself, I was holding in my laugh. I was just teasing him but I'm guessing he didn't pick up on that.

“Joe, I was just playing around.” - you laughed

“Good. I thought you were being for real for a second and I was worried I was going to be put on the couch tonight.” - Joe chuckled

Mmm, Imma mess with him.

“Who said you aren't being put on the couch tonight? I'm kinda disappointed you didn't name… I don't know… me!” - you

“Aye! That's not fair, you don't count.” - Joe

“Joe, why wouldn't I count? I'm a woman, aren't I? That was the criteria.” - you

“You’re more than just a woman though… you're my gorgeous, smart, sexy, kind, and amazing girlfriend.” - Joe smiled

Joe leaned forward to press his lips onto mine in a sweet and thorough kiss, but when he pulled away with a sly smirk on his face I decided he wasn't getting away with it that easy.

“Stop trying to butter me up, boy. You're still sleeping on the couch.” - you grinned

“Damn it!” - Joe grumbled

I giggled as I spread kisses all over his cheeks before finally planting one on his lips.

“I'm just kidding.” - you

Joe opened his mouth to talk but the sound of the doorbell cut him off.

“The guys are here.” - you went to crawl off of Joe but he stopped you

“Come in!” - Joe

The front door opened and in walked the wide receiver trio. I gave Joe a skeptical look but he just kissed my cheek and pushed my head back onto his chest.

He was really not trying to sleep on the couch tonight.

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Authors note: kind of a niche blurb… iykyk.

Request for this fix;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

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lacrimosathedark · 3 months

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THAT'S IT! This is a Janet Drake Defense Post

As may be obvious, I spend a lot of time reading fanfic. And there's this trend that drives me nuts, and it's villainizing Janet Drake.

I'm not gonna say she's an A+ mother. She's not. She chose her career and adventures over spending time with her child much of the time. But fandom portrays her as some rich pompous ice queen, which is never shown.

Janet Drake mostly appears in the story Tim's introduced, and in the story she dies.

So, let's start from the top: Haly's Circus.

This event is the only time we see her really interacting with Tim before her death, but it shows that at least when he was young, she was an active part of his life. She was worried about bringing Tim because it might scare him. And then rightfully scolds her husband for being sexist because Jack Drake actually IS a jerk.

...I don't like the art in this comic. Or that the writer doesn't know how kids speak.

But Janet is being supportive of Tim's clear interest in Dick's performance.

And then tragedy strikes and she acts like, y'know, a mother.

Her priority is getting her son and herself out of there.

Also worth noting that the Drakes sent a copy of that final photo of the Graysons TO Dick, which is how he has it at all. If both of them were stuck up pricks, would they even bother sending a photo to a grieving child performer they hardly know? I can't imagine Jack really bothering, but I don't see why Janet wouldn't.

And then, by the time she's dying, we know that Tim's parents have been away for a very long time, he never knows where they are, but they've communicated enough that he knows that they've been fighting.

They're passive aggressive to say the least. This marriage is clearly not working anymore.

EDIT CUZ I REMEMBERED A THING:

It's worth noting that this is a time before smartphones. This comic was released in 1990, which was when pre-paid mobile phones had just started existing. Coverage isn't universal NOW, so back then it was even less, and Jack and Janet are archeologists (or archeologist adjacent?) so they're going to be in less developed and populated areas most of the time. It's unlikely they'd have consistent access to a functional phone that could call the states to talk to Tim regularly.

This isn't to defend their absence, because fuck that, but it's to give it some context. I don't think they were trying to ignore or abandon Tim. Communication was just not readily available and Janet seems to get wrapped up in work...and Jack's an asshole.

Also for note, Janet is probably the one sending Tim postcards in the first place. It being signed "Mom and Dad" is what makes me think that. Jack would have put himself first if he wrote it, it woulda said "Dad and Mom". That's admittedly pure speculation, BUT IT FITS SOOOOOO

My thought is if this were made modern, Janet would be sending extremely scattered texts and Tim would get next to nothing from Jack unless Janet prompted him.

END EDIT

(Fair warning, this story is a few levels of Yikes, but I'm gonna stay on topic)

Bad guy Obeah Man does...something? to the pilot, and they crash, and he has a group of people kidnap the Drakes and their assistant Jeremy.

Danger really puts some things in perspective, for Janet, at least. And that continues for her. Jack is a bit delusional and in denial, thinking he has any control of the situation.

They are tied up and filmed for ransom, their assistant killed right in front of them.

Jack just keeps raging, but Janet is having regrets. Notice how she doesn't cry until Tim is brought up. Could be nothing, could be something.

And then she dies.

Her only other major appearance is when Tim is having a fever dream from the Clench and everything is kind of okay for a minute.

Tim very clearly loves his mom. And we may not get a lot of characterization for her, but she's not cold or callous like people write her constantly.

And now, we finally have a little more about her as of Batman 134.

I haven't really been keeping up since the Gotham War stuff because What The Fuck Was That My Guy, but I recently saw this specific comic.

The multiverse is fucked up again, some way some how, and Bruce is lost (again) and Tim has to get him back (again). This time, Tim is going in after him. But he doesn't end up going straight to Bruce.

He goes to see an alt of his mom.

Tim missed her so much that he ended up going to her before Bruce.

And her immediate reaction is to run up and hug him. Does that look like a mother who doesn't love her son?

"Do you have anyone to take care of you?"

"I don't know how this happened, this miracle...but I just know, in my heart of hearts, it was to show me...that every version of my son is a good one."

Tell me again that this woman is heartless and didn't want her son, I fucking dare you.

And we get more meaning to the name "Robin" and a little crumb about Tim's grandmother. As a treat.

This is all to say, please stop writing Janet Drake as a cold, heartless bitch.

Small final note though: Jack Drake is, in fact, a shitty person and a shitty father. He does still love Tim and Tim loves him AND THAT IS NOT UP FOR DEBATE, but the relationship is a mess. If either parent is actively abusive, it's 1000% Jack "smashed a TV because my son wasn't listening to me and threatened Bruce Wayne at gunpoint" Drake. Probably part of why the marriage was falling apart.

Anyway, yeah, let's retire the "Jack and Janet Drake are Bad Parents" tag and replace it with "Jack Drake is a Bad Parent" and "Janet Drake's C+ Parenting" or something.

#DC Comics #Detective Comics #Batman #Robin #Janet Drake #Tim Drake

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burr-ell · 1 year

Text

I'll preface this by saying that I don't by any means begrudge anyone their own personal headcanons or interpretations, but I kinda have to get it off my chest that I'm personally not very comfortable with significant deviations from canon character design on CR, and I really tend to side-eye people who have declared their fanart to be "better".

And sure, some of that is because i'm a cranky old bastard. But some of that is that I also have an animation degree and have studied character design. Creators generally give artists a fair amount of input as to how they want their designs to connote the characters' personalities—not just in terms of clothing or hairstyle, but in the overall shape of the silhouettes and body structures. And in the case of CR in particular, that's coming from a place of much closer familiarity with the characters because the creator is actually going to be embodying them for a fairly long period of time, so when the fan response is heavy deviation from that, I think it can feed into some unhealthy fanon perceptions and projections.

Like, for example, it's not so much that I think fanartists are "disrespecting the creators" or whatever when they keep giving Imogen a sweet little round face and big hips/breasts and cute circular glasses, but I've also studied shape language in art. You're communicating something when you design her this way; if a character's silhouette has a lot of circles, visually that connotes being friendly, sweet, and cute. The person who first suggested drawing her with glasses explicitly said they thought it would look cute—and no shade to them! They can like whatever they want!

But canonically, Imogen is a woman in her 20s who's been dealing with unanswered questions, abandonment, loneliness, and sheer exhaustion from trying to hold back and control powers that she never asked for—and who simultaneously uses those powers even when it isn't necessary if she thinks it'll help her achieve a goal or prove a point. She isn't unfriendly, and she wants to do the right thing, but she's also someone who's consciously chosen to keep to herself for most of her life, and yet simultaneously she's quite adept at persuading and deceiving people. I think we're meant to pick up that sense of world-weariness and cynicism from her angular facial features and thin frame. That's...kind of just how character design works.

I think the trend of disregarding the official art and giving her softer features has had an impact on the perception of Imogen as a character. I see a lot of views of her that really remove a lot of her agency, treating her like she's only ever been a victim of circumstance who's never put a foot wrong. Some fans got pushback for pointing out that it really wasn't cool for Imogen to openly contemplate whether or not the Ruby Vanguard might be right in front of three people who were killed by Otohan, insisting that imogen was just dealing with a lot right then. And yes, she was, but that doesn't mean that the way she was dealing with it doesn't say something about her as a character. I don't know if I'd call it coddling, necessarily (even though perhaps there are some very coddling takes I just haven't seen), but there seems to be some resistance, in some circles, to the idea that Imogen isn't a put-upon martyr. And in those same circles, round friendly-looking glasses-wearing Imogen abounds, to the point of editing the official art itself to "fix it".

Truth be told I'd be willing to bet that the rounder cuter Imogen actually came about because of the initial impression of her, given how much fanon at the start of c3 revolved around poor baby Imogen with her scary nightmares needing the wiser, worldlier Laudna to comfort her and kiss it better, but those visuals also proliferated rather quickly and well beyond past the point where that fanon was feasible anymore, and I think both aspects of that fanon ended up informing each other. It's not lost on me that the rounder and cuter-looking Imogen performs the literal function of sanding down her harder edges.

And like I said, I'm not here to be needlessly negative toward what other people want to do. If you want to draw the characters differently to their official art, I don't think either the cast or the artist are especially offended by it. But I personally dislike it, in part because I think some of these trends are a way for fans to claim a certain amount of ownership over the characters, whether they intend it or not. And the ultimate outcome of that is that when creators inevitably assert their ownership over a deeply personal story in a way that fans don't like, the backlash is much stronger than it reasonably should be, which is something I think the CR fandom has seen often enough not to continue doing as often as it does.

#cr meta #critical role #cr discourse #cr wank #i think chubby jester vs skinny jester also falls into this #and don't get me wrong i 100% support representation of body types and the cast does too #but there's a certain amount of overlap between chubby jester and weird fanwanky c2 stans #it's. usually the folks who cling to fanon art interpretations who get the most angry at the cast when things don't go their way #like i don't have StatsTM or whatever to prove it but i've noticed some trends #also it's always the female characters and particularly laura bailey's characters who get hit with this attitude the most #like! just say you don't like a call laura made! i promise you no one's gonna call 911!

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upon-a-starry-night · 4 months

Text

Number Neighbors Pt.15

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Natasha was right that you would be upset at her leaving. You always were. But this time you assured her you’d send her lots of messages and pictures even if she didn’t respond.

And she admitted to you that she liked having something light to come back to.

It was another typical night for Nat sleeping in a dingy hotel with three of her fellow Avengers who tended to snore. She wasn’t getting much consistent sleep which wasn’t unusual for her but she’d already had a bad evening. She and Steve had gotten into a pretty bad argument with Tony over some stupid government thing. He knew they wouldn’t want to do it but Nat could see that deep down he was scared so she understood him.

She just couldn’t go back to being anyone’s puppet again.

When she’d finally managed to dose off her mind was plagued with flashes of red and little girls and rows and rows of women standing in formation. A familiar face among them that she wasn’t ready to process just yet.

Springing up in bed, she clutched the blanket at her chest, her breaths coming out in quiet but rapid succession. Guilt wracked her body and at times like this, she’d usually seek comfort in Clint or even ask Wanda to help her sleep but when the panic settled she felt the person she was seeking out the most was… You.

Although she didn’t know what you looked like, she pictured your rainbow pajama pants and your favorite duck socks. She imagined soft arms wrapping around her and urging her back to bed.

A sleepy soft voice talking to her about anything and everything until she dozed off.

When she lay back down it was with the image of you next to her, and she fell asleep with you on her mind.

It was the quickest she’d ever recovered from a nightmare and the best sleep she’d ever had while on a mission.

The next day she finished her mission earlier than usual and if her fellow Avengers commented on it then it was simply because she wanted to get home faster and not because she’d dreamt of you all night and wanted to text you back immediately.

~~~~~~

You understood Nat still had work to do and thus would leave you for long periods again, but it still left ample time for your anxiety to creep in.

What if she did see you that night at the restaurant and this was her way of cutting you off because she thought you were ugly?

What if she was bored of your conversations and decided you weren’t worth it anymore?

At this point, you were waiting any day for the blocked notification to come up when you sent her pictures throughout your day.

So who could blame you if you were using dates with Leon as an excuse to get her off of your mind?

Even if lately you didn’t feel anything with the guy you were with…

It was your third date of the week and honestly, you were a little bored. You’d been walking around New York listening to Leon talk for nearly an hour and the charm was starting to wear off. But anything was better than staying in your apartment all day refreshing your phone and overthinking everything you’ve ever sent.

When you rounded the corner arm in arm with Leon you were surprised to see a large crowd gathering a little further ahead. You didn’t know there was any kind of event happening today but to be fair you’d spent all of your time either with Leon or waiting for Nat to text back. Social media had been pushed to the back burner for a while, and if you were honest- your obsession with Black Widow had dwindled sufficiently in the last month. It was probably for the best, your mother was tired of constantly getting updates on where she was spotted in New York or what happened on their latest mission.

Now you had real people to focus on, like Nat, and Leon, and even one of your coworkers started asking you to hang out.

Life was starting to feel a little less dull and you felt like you owed a lot of that to Nat.

Shaking your head you gripped Leon's arm a little tighter, there you go again thinking about Nat. It was impossible to get her out of your head when every little thing reminded you of her.

As Leon steers you in the direction of the gathering crowd you find yourself becoming anxious. Crowds haven’t been your specialty, especially not after-

A body bumps into yours as they push past you to run towards the crowd and suddenly you're thrown back to that moment four years ago when you were rushing out of that building.

You hear the sounds of people screaming which in reality is people cheering but your brain can’t tell the difference right now.

You look down at your hands and see your own blood staining them- the same way from that day.

The sound of alarms and hurried footsteps mix with the smell of sweat and dirt and suddenly you’re unable to catch your breath.

Another person bumps into you and you flinch, you're sure your eyes are wide with panic but you don’t know what to do. You hadn’t had an episode like this in a long time. You thought you’d finally gotten over it.

Slipping your arm from Leon’s you find you’re uncomfortable touching anyone and you can’t focus.

You try the different breathing and counting exercises your therapist taught you.

It only helps a little.

Someone on a stage in some direction drops a microphone and the sound reminds you of the crumbling building next door. The ring of it is the ringing in your ear from the head trauma and loud explosions. You didn’t even realize your hands were covering your ears until you felt something pulling them away. You flinch at the contact, the voice is fuzzy and it’s hard to focus on the words.

“Hey”

“Y/n?”

“Can- you he- me?”

“What's- Going-”

When the ringing stops and you hear someone laugh out an apology over a speaker system things get a little less cloudy.

Your eyes shoot from the ground into dark brown concerned eyes and you feel wetness slipping down your face.

Embarrassment floods your system and you find yourself unable to make eye contact

“Can we just get out of here please?”

Leon observes you for a second before nodding his head, slipping his hand into yours, and pulling you away. You don’t comment that you don’t feel like being touched. You don’t have the energy to. You just need to get far away from here.

“I know this really great ice cream place?”

You nod your head and let him lead you. You weren’t really hungry but you’d take any quiet place right about now.

Two blocks down you can still hear the crowd but it’s a lot quieter than before, Leon opens the door to a Mint and Salmon-colored Ice cream shop and you walk in. The sound of the bell drowns out the sound of the announcer before the door shuts to blissful silence.

“Okay, everyone! Now what you’ve all been waiting for- The Avengers!!”

Nat fakes a smile as she walks out onto the stage. She was going to kill Tony for stealing her phone and putting a firewall on it to blackmail her into doing this event. It wasn’t like she hated doing these things but they’d only just gotten back from their mission and they only had the chance to shower and change before they came here.

Tony truly was the asshole of all assholes.

She had been scrolling through the pictures you’d sent when Tony snatched her phone from her hands, dangling it in front of her and telling her she couldn’t text her “new boy toy” until she smiled for the press and signed a few autographs.

Crowds were also notorious for crimes, and although Tony had security stationed everywhere that didn’t mean it still wasn’t easy to commit a crime in this environment- it was a hotspot for pickpockets and some adult fans could get a little too aggressive or handsy. Anyone could be dangerous- she would know, she’s been ‘part of the crowd’ plenty of times.

Still, the little hopeful faces of all the children in the crowd were part of the reason she hadn’t murdered Tony on the spot for making her do this. The kids looked up to her like she was the greatest thing in the world, the ones who saw her as a hero and didn’t know about her past.

She wonders how many of those kids will grow up to read about all the red in her ledger and despise her for it.

So she wasn’t having the best time. She’d much rather be coddled up in her room reading a book or training in the gym.

For a second she wonders what you’re up to today, if you’ve texted her any pictures since she checked. It’s a beautiful Saturday afternoon, perfect weather, the kind of day you’d want to spend outside. The kind of day she’d spend convincing you to go outside and laughing when you sent her a frowny face you’d made out of fallen leaves.

She would get more time to text you or listen about your more than odd work experiences if Tony wasn’t constantly bugging her about this government thing.

You seemed more occupied in the days she was gone. You sent her more pictures of things outside than of your coffee table and TV screen. She would take you anywhere you wanted if she ever met you.

She’s glad to see you’re getting out more on your own though, and if it has something to do with this Leon guy…

Scanning the crowd she observes all the women she can see. Most are ogling Steve and Tony, some of them are looking at her with jealousy over how close to Steve she’s standing. She nudges him in the shoulder just to rile them up and she swears a few of them breathe fire. It makes her chuckle.

A few of the women look at her with awe, and she wonders if maybe one of those faces is you. You did say you were a fan of hers.

Would you be at an event like this?

With that in mind, she begins analyzing every single woman in the crown. Searching for your favorite colors, your favorite shows on any shirts, any sign of you in every woman.

But for some distinct reason, she gets the feeling that you’re not there.

~~~~

“Why are you always taking pictures while we’re out?” snapping another cute picture of your ice cream you put your phone down and turn to Leon. You had been snapping plenty of pictures of random things to send to Nat while you’d been on your dates with Leon. You were honestly surprised he hadn’t asked earlier.

Maybe he thought it was a girl thing.

“I’m just sending pictures to my friend” The word feels weird in your mouth for the second time “We don’t hang out much so I send her updates of what I do all day” You frown as you see the 'seen' notification on your other messages but no bubbles pop up “honestly I think she’s getting tired of it…”

A hand on your shoulder makes you jolt and you try and relax when you realize it’s only Leon again. His hand rubs circles on your shoulder and you're surprised at how irritated you are at the action. The Y/n from a few weeks ago probably would have been giddy at all this physical affection but lately, it just doesn’t feel right. You don’t have the heart to tell Leon that though

“I don’t think anyone could grow tired of you, maybe she’s just busy?” Slipping his hand from your shoulder to your hand he begins tugging you out of the ice cream shop and into the busy sidewalk. Whatever event was going on earlier had died down and you’d finally recovered from your attack.

Leon begins lightly swinging your arms back and forth as you walk back in the direction of your apartment

“Does she live nearby? If she’s busy at work maybe we could surprise her?”

The idea of surprising Nat puts a smile on your face but you don’t even know where she lives, or if she’d even want to meet you. The smile slowly slips off of your face and your stomach turns with anxiety and disappointment

“No, she… you’re right she’s probably too busy”

When you get home you schedule another appointment with your therapist for the anxiety and PTSD… and for the excessive overthinking.

~~~

A few days later the doorbell rings and you internally cringe. Opening the door you're not even surprised when you see the third deliveryman this week. You accept the bouquet of roses with a half smile and then shut the door in his face.

You’ve been declining dates with Leon ever since Nat came back from work and he seems to think you’re mad at him or something so he’s been sending you bouquets of roses every few days to ask you out.

You know it’s not fair to him when he doesn’t know why you’ve gone quiet all of a sudden but you can’t help the fact that you wished you were on dates with someone else.

Someone you’ve never even seen or met but desperately long for.

The first time Leon got you flowers in your relationship was cute and had you blushing for days. Although you were a bit embarrassed opening the door in your sweats and hoodie, the delivery kid didn’t seem to mind as he handed you a large bouquet and a cute little handwritten note.

You were so excited about it that you texted Nat to gush right away.

Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦:

He got me roses!!

The response was immediate as always.

Nat🔪:

But…Y/n,

Roses aren’t your favorite flower?

Nat didn’t mean to kill your excitement but she couldn’t help but feel a little upset that you were getting so excited over a bouquet of flowers that weren’t even your favorite.

A few irrational minutes later her thumb hovered over the ‘purchase order’ button on her phone. Finding some kind of satisfaction in knowing you better and one-upping his gesture.

But she came to the unfortunate realization that she wasn’t supposed to know where you live. And it wasn’t like she could have you thinking he got you those flowers. So she canceled the order and settled for the hesitant excuses you made for him not knowing your favorites.

That in and of itself should have brought her at least some satisfaction but instead, she just found herself angry that you weren’t being treated as well as you should be. She knew she could do so much better. She could treat you so much better than him.

But she was a coward.

You put the flowers on the counter, not bothering to find another vase you knew you didn’t have. Whatever initial excitement you’d had when you first met Leon had vanished and you think it was because of Nat.

She’d taken over every single aspect of your life and you didn’t really mind, because you liked Nat… A lot.

Shit.

Pt 16

-Sorry to whoever's favorite flowers are roses they were just the most generic flower I imagined a guy would pick~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723

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lieutenantfloyd · 1 year

Note

So I know it’s just a joke….but I’m kinda living for the Alonso/Taylor thing that’s happening right now. How hilarious would it be for Taylor(YN) to lean into it??? We know that Lewis is kinda a Swiftie or a least would run in similar circles; she reaches out and is like can I send flowers to congratulate him for P3 in Aus, since they’re “dating” just as an unhinged joke. And then it turns into Alonso jokingly inviting her to a race (we know he’s been on a SM run lately) and it just turns from a joke into a not joke. And Fans have no clue when that is b/c they still think it’s just a bit😂

⁑ So It Goes — Fernando Alonso ⁑

Celebrity AU (social media AU + oneshot)

Pairing: Fernando Alonso x famous!reader (Taylor Swift face claim)

Summary: A pop singer's world tour, a month-long break in the f1 season, and two fanbase's engaging in some harmless trolling lead to one of the most unexpected meet-cutes the internet has ever seen.

notes: i don’t know what’s been wilder; watching F1 fans breach containment in real time or getting the notification for this ask while thinking about this exact concept. Either way, thank you anon for this ask! Please enjoy the most unhinged thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of creating.

popgossip's story

Of all the things to be trending for today, this was by far the strangest. In your line of work, rumors spread like wildfire. However: Rumors, especially of the dating variety, were typically between yourself and someone who you were photographed or with who mentioned you in an interview. Being rumored to date a man who you barely even knew existed? Well that was new. Luckily, after being in the same social circles for years, you were able to call a rival driver of your alleged BF one of your closest friends.

Two days after your conversation with Lewis, you sat at your dining room table filing out the card. Writing a short message filled with congratulations and well wishes before signing your initials and setting the card aside. Before your judgement got the best of you, you opened the card again and scrawl your phone number in small letters across the bottom. You knew the chances of him contacting you personally were slim to none, but you wanted to extend the invitation.

Fernandoalo_oficial's story

Tonight was yet another performance in yet another city. Your driver dropped you off at your hotel and you made your way up to your suite. Still buzzing from the energy of a stadium full of fans, you weren't particularly sleepy but your body was exhausted. Somehow you willed yourself to take a quick shower before collapsing into bed. Wet hair and all. You pulled out your phone and clicked on the messaging app. Selecting the all messages tab, you began responding to the slew of messages congratulating you on another stellar performance. After 20 or so threads, you made it to the messages you had received earlier in your very busy week. Humming softly, you opened another one and automatically clicked on the keyboard before glancing back up towards the top of the screen.

It was kind and simple, but you couldn't help but smile as your eyes scanned over his words. Because most nights you were either traveling or performing, the outlandish rumor only made its way into your mind when you checked your mentions and saw that you were still being tagged in a fair share of related memes. You paused and mulled over your response. Typing and deleting over and over until you sent back a similar pleasantry to his. Closing the app, you locked your phone and let it drop down onto the bed beside you. Even if your conversation stayed like this, you were still a bit excited to get a response from him. You didn't know where Fernando currently was in the world, but you could only assume you were in different timezones.

As the next weeks came and went, your correspondence with Fernando had shifted from mostly uninvolved to warm and friendly. You learned that not only did you both find your situation absolutely hilarious, but you had a surprising amount of commonality. Including your sense of humor and a shared love of cats.

You and him had began to talk more and more. In between tour rehearsals one day, Fernando messaged you inviting you to the next race. You thanked him before joking about people's reaction if you were able to attend. Making a mental note to inquire about your schedule with your team.

Aside from the low drone coming from the drivers walkie talkie, the car was silent. Leaning your head against the window, you watched the clouds pass by from behind your tinted sunglasses. It not only a warm and sunny Sunday, but it was a rare day off for you. Soon, the car had slowed to a stop. Only moments later the door opened. Revealing your smiling agent, standing next to what you assumed was some kind of F1 press officer. You let the pair lead you towards the Aston Martin garage, followed distantly by your usual security guards. Stopping on occasional to take a selfie with your adoring fans. The further you walked, the more you felt the countless eyes on you. The one aspect of fame you could never quite accept: the near constant stares. Thankfully, as you entered the emerald green marked garage, you felt the stares fall away. Celebrities were no oddity in these areas.

yourusername

liked by Fernandoalo_oficial and 3,3194,031 others

yourusername: A day to remember 💚

tagged: @ astonmartinf1 & @ fernandoalo_oficial

view 24,693 comments

betty31: HELP

user13: There's simply no way😭

forsainz4: THE RUMORS ??? ARE TRUE???

After the Grand Prix and a celebratory dinner with your new 2nd favorite driver, you once again set off to finish your tour. Despite almost always being on opposite sides of the world, you and Fernando never lost contact. In fact, you grew closer and closer. Your fanbase’s both catching on to your unusual friendship. By the time your tour was over, it was time to start writing and recording your next album. An album which, whether directly or indirectly, Fernando had plenty of influence on. Always busy, and endlessly tiring. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world, you both concurred dramatically over facetime. Late one night for him, mid day for you. It was on another one of those facetime calls that you finally spoke the thoughts that were beginning to weight heavy on both of your chests. An unspoken comradere, among many other things, had formed between you. It wasn’t long before you were mapping out what little spare time you had so you could spend it together in person. Neither one of you wanted to force anything, instead just letting whatever felt right to happen. Following the surprise release of your now completed album, you joined Fernando for a much needed period of rest and relaxation. And maybe it was the sun, the sand, or the fact you were a little wine drunk, but you were in the mood to cause a bit of drama.

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial and 14,996,831 others

yourusername i'm starting to think it might not be a joke anymore

view 46,002 comments

yktsunoda: HOLY SHIT??

user64: IM LOSING MY MIND

fernandoalo_oficial El Plan ✅😎

lavender11: y/n please come get your man😭

user98: this is the most ambitious crossover event in history

#fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #f1 one shot #f1 fiction #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x y/n #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula 1 headcanon #formula 1 x reader #Formula 1

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pluckyredhead · 1 month

Note

Can you please say more about the Lanterns' politics?

I am so glad you asked me about this because I've been thinking about it since I reblogged that post but also I'm definitely about to get yelled at lol. ANYWAY THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG.

Tl;dr: John is the only one with a coherent political position or an up-to-date voter registration.

Hal:

So something interesting about Hal is that his stories are often very political but his character is not. With one extremely obvious exception, he rarely talks about politics; rather, he serves as a means through which to tell political stories, usually unintentionally.

What do I mean by that? Well, for example, in the Silver Age, his love interest would occasionally be possessed by a misandrist space jewel that would force her to attack him, but always lose because women are inherently inferior to men and prefer to be subjugated by them anyway. That's the original Star Sapphire concept. It's wildly misogynistic, but it doesn't mean Hal the character is misogynistic. But it's also a very political story, even if I don't think the writer was deliberately trying to make a point so much as...being an average, thoughtlessly sexist guy living in the 60s. (Carol continues to be the subject of mindbogglingly sexist writing and art well into the 2000s. Fucking comics.)

And so you have Hal Jordan, whose love life was ruined by his girlfriend getting promoted above him and who called his best friend by a racist nickname for decades; Hal Jordan, poster boy for chest-thumping post-9/11 kneejerk patriotism; Hal Jordan, lightning rod for a certain kind of regressive bigoted fanboyism. Choosing Hal as the Lantern for a particular story over John or Kyle has come to signify something very specific, but none of that is necessarily reflective of what Hal himself believes.

So what about Hal himself? Well, when we first meet him, he's the epitome of privilege: a white, straight, cis, Christian (I know he's canonically half-Jewish now but that's only as of the past decade or so), ablebodied, upper middle class (Geoff Johns retconned him to have a working class background, but in the Silver Age, he had one uncle who was a millionaire, another who was a judge, and a successful politician brother) man with a flashy job. Privilege tends to lean Republican; even if he is from California, I suspect Hal voted for Eisenhower in 1956.

In GL/GA, the word "Republican" isn't used to my recollection, but Hal is definitely presented as...I'm going to say conservative by I mean lower-case C. He doesn't have deeply held political beliefs, but he's traditional. He doesn't question the system, because he's never had to. He resists things that challenge the way he's always understood the world works, and that's very relatable - most people do! And he will absolutely argue with Ollie, who certainly isn't always right about everything. But he's also willing to listen, and have his mind changed, and certainly reachable via appeals to compassion and fairness.

Once the "relevance" trend of the late 60s-early 70s was over, Hal's stories default back to ostensibly politically neutral, although obviously nothing is actually politically neutral. In the late 80s and early 90s he's the most unpleasant version of himself, and that has political manifestations, like when he allows John to be imprisoned in apartheid South Africa for a ridiculous and unnecessary crime Hal himself committed. It's extremely fucked up, but again, it's less because of Hal's actual opinions and more because Christopher Priest wanted to write about apartheid, even if it does make Hal look incredibly, horrifically racist.

Then jump to the mid-2000s and Green Lantern: Rebirth, and you might imagine that losing his hometown, getting possessed by a giant space bug, becoming a supervillain, dying, and becoming the embodiment of God's vengeance might have some effect on Hal's politics, but that is not what Geoff Johns is here to write. Johns is writing a Hal who teleported in from, like, 1967 - no nuance allowed. He's a summer blockbuster that walks like a man. He's a Baja Blast. He's never had a coherent political thought in his life. In his defense, he has had more and goofier concussions than any superhero I can think of and his brain is smooth like an egg. Still.

Anyway, all of this is to say that I think Hal tends to default to center right positions but can be easily coaxed over to center left. That said, he has never not once in his life had his shit together enough to vote in a single election, not even for his own brother.

Guy:

So Guy's deal is a little bit complicated because his most vocally political era was also in part due to severe and personality-altering brain damage.

When Guy was originally introduced in the 1960s, he had the pleasantly bland personality of all superheroes. Many years later, he suffered a series of major injuries, torture, and a lengthy coma, and he emerged from the coma in 1985 with the aggressive, abrasive personality he's best known for today. Justice League International took that even further, using him to parody the jingoistic, red-blooded American action hero of the 80s.

This version of Guy is a vocal fan of Ronald Reagan and despises the USSR. He's pro-war, proudly xenophobic, and treats women badly enough that it crosses the line into repeated sexual harassment, both physical and verbal. (To be fair...ish, this last also applies to Wally West and arguably a number of other men, and was always played for laughs. It was gross all around.)

Again, this is partially a manifestation of his brain damage. There's also a running gag in JLI where if he gets hit on the head, his personality changes to this cloying, timid, gentle one, sort of halfway between a child and a flamboyant gay stereotype. Hit him again and he goes back to Asshole Guy. I'm not going to pretend I don't find some of the gags funny, but it's obviously all highly problematic, and not just from a medical standpoint.

That said, I don't think we can dismiss Guy's politics or his usual personality as simply a manifestation of brain damage. We see in later flashbacks that he developed the abrasiveness as a defense mechanism from growing up in an abusive home, and as he matures through the 90s, he doesn't actually become a significantly different person, even after his Vuldarian healing factor kicks in and heals his brain. (It's a thing.) I think it's more accurate to say that the brain damage probably affected his impulse control, his filter, and arguably even his paranoia levels.

All of which is to say that as much as I would love to go "Guy's better now, so he's not a Republican!"...that dog won't hunt. I think a really good canon writer could make the case that Guy is pro-union-style working class and also a former teacher so he's at least center left, but as of now canon evidence is pretty firmly on the red side. It doesn't help that the GLC has been written as fetishistically pro-cop and pro-military since Johns got his grubby hands all over it. I will happily ignore the New 52 retcon that Guy was a cop, and you could even try to argue that he dislikes cops because his brother was a corrupt cop who became a supervillain, but I think it's much more likely that he identifies with cops as a Corps member. Although I don't think he would have any patience for killer cops. ("You were afraid for your life even though you were the only one with a weapon? Then fucking quit, coward.")

All of that said, I think Guy is similar to Hal: defaults to center right, can be talked into center left on certain issues but he's more stubborn about it. (They would also both be enraged by Jan 6 and disgusted by the current Republican party - I can't quite argue that Guy Gardner is a Democrat but Green Lanterns don't have any patience for traitors or cowards.) It's also kind of a moot point because he never knows what is happening on Earth and hasn't voted since his pre-coma days.

John:

Oh John Stewart, thank god for you.

John was introduced as an explicitly political character in an explicitly political story. The first time we see him, he's stepping in to defend Black men from a white cop, citing his own knowledge of the law to do so. He shows a much more perceptive and informed perspective on the issue's main plot (a racist senator running for president) than Hal does. Even in the little moment above, we see that he's sensitive to exactly what it means for him, a Black man, to be taking on this role.

None of this is a surprise, since we'll later learn that John's parents were civil rights activists. Not only would he not have had the privilege Hal and Guy did to assume his existence was politically neutral, he was explicitly educated about political realities and progressive advocacy from childhood. He's well-informed, he's passionate, and he's going to tell you when you are being fucking stupid.

John isn't immune from the GL cop/military...thing, although I can't blame Johns for that - it was the cartoon that made him a Marine, and the comics followed suit. But that's never outweighed his origin or his upbringing. Like, he's friends with the DCU's fictional version of Nelson Mandela.

This one is straightforward: John is a staunch progressive. He is, however, in outer space 90% of the time, so he's always at least a little bit out of date. I imagine every time he comes back to Earth he spends the first 24 hours watching the news in abject horror.

Kyle:

Kyle doesn't talk about politics a lot, but when he does, he lands pretty much where you'd expect a young California-born artist living in New York City to land: to the left. My read on Kyle is that he hasn't really thought any of his politics through, which makes sense - he's a character who is led by emotion over reason every time. He doesn't have John's carefully thought-through arguments or knowledge of the law behind him. I feel like when something political upsets him, he's more likely to splutter angrily than make a coherent argument (which: same). When he's given the time to think things through and speak from the heart, though, he can be very eloquent, like in his speech to Terry after Terry accidentally comes out to him.

It's also worth pointing out that his solo appearances were mostly in the 90s, which were prone to avoiding politics or only addressing them in a halfhearted both sides-y way like the story above.

That said, I don't think he ever actually does anything about his political opinions. He never votes in midterm or primary elections, and probably only voted in a presidential one because Alex dragged him along one time. I feel like Donna tried to do the same when they were dating and that was when Kyle realized he'd forgotten to change his voter registration from California to New York. Jennie wasn't responsible enough to Mom him into doing his civic duty, and he's been in space pretty much nonstop ever since, so...

Simon:

In that other post, I said Simon's experiences should have radicalized him, but instead he was created by Geoff Johns. Simon is a Muslim, Lebanese-American man who came of age in the post-9/11 era, and was wrongfully convicted of terrorism and waterboarded at Guantanamo Bay. His reaction to this was...to put on a ski mask and wave a gun around. Like, it's been a while since I've read these issues, but aside from the "ripped from the headlines!!!" of it all, I feel like Simon's experiences largely don't inform his actions or perspective except that he's super angry (fair enough).

The thing about Simon (and Jessica) is that he hasn't been around very long, and most comics don't have characters directly expressing political opinions. It's not a coincidence that these characters are in chronological order and each write-up is shorter than the last. I can think of about three times where Kyle has ever said anything I can interpret as political, and he's been around for 30 years. Simon only has a third of that history. So while one could certainly extrapolate what Simon's opinions are likely to be, I can't think of any canon where he actually says them.

Jessica:

Jessica has even less to go on in terms of explicitly political comics. You'd think she wouldn't like guns because of what happened to her friends, but she has one of her own and doesn't seem bothered by Simon's. I'd imagine she has opinions on immigration as someone whose family is from Mexico and Honduras, but it never comes up. If I were writing for DC, I'd make both Simon and Jess leftists, but as for actual canon proof? I got nothing.

I will say that she probably avoids political discussions because anxiety, and I bet she got really good at voting by mail during her years not leaving the house. She probably votes by mail from space. Maybe John's not the only one with an up-to-date voter registration.

Kilowog:

#green lantern #hal jordan #guy gardner #john stewart #kyle rayner #simon baz #jessica cruz #meta

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tomsretales · 9 months

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Retales Retold - Day Nine

-A woman makes a large purchase, then proceeds to leave the store without any of her bags. I understand. It is far too early to do things right.

-I was informed that the entire store was out of stickers. This is a bad omen. I hope I will make it through.

-A woman purchased four 12-packs of soda. She then began punching the boxes to make handholds, rather than pushing in the perforations. I am inspired.

-A baby yelled, “LOOK AT ME.” I was too afraid of the consequences not to obey. The eye contact that followed was, frankly, horrifying.

-An old woman was wearing pants covered in flamingos. I regret not asking where she got them from. They would be a staple of my wardrobe.

-An elderly man bought two copies of Disney’s Hocus Pocus and nothing else. I appreciate his style.

-A kind, grandmotherly woman referred to me by name several times, then proceeded to shush the card reader and shout at it when it did not stop beeping. She had not removed her card. I decided to see what she had to say to the machine before I let her know.

-Old women going on shopping dates together and laughing hysterically to each other has become my new favorite trend to see at work.

-A woman came through my lane. It was an entirely unremarkable transaction. Then she turned around. She had a life-size hyperrealistic baby face tattooed on her back. It was a shining example of both the uncanny valley and tattoo artists who did too good of a job.

-A woman reminds her child that he is not wearing a diaper and therefore cannot pee while standing at the counter. I do not think the reminder changed his mind. To be fair, I would not let it change my mind either.

#target retales #Retales retold

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 8 months

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It's almost like that trend where significant others walk around nude when their partners are busy gaming but make it Steddie.

18+ MINORS DNI because Steve is nakkey and mentions of potential smut.

Eddie is still staying at Steve's, and he just learned that Hellfire is back on, so he was busy coming up with a campaign that wasn't too traumatizing for the kids. Steve and Eddie had been flirting like hell, but now Eddie was no longer paying attention to him. He was now ignoring all of Steve’s advances, so Steve got desperate. He was going to get his attention.

Smirking, Steve stripped completely naked and wandered back into the living room. He asked if Eddie needed anything, but all he got was brush off, his shaggy hair hiding his view of Steve. If he would just look up. Steve glared at him, his hands on his hips. Is this guy for real? Steve had another idea and hoped it would work. His last option would be to grab the notebook and climb directly into his lap. Steve yawned loudly and stretched out on the couch, his ass in the air.

"Fuck, I'm a little cold. If only I had something to warm me up," Steve sighed loudly.

"Well, you know where the blankets are, don't you? I mean, it's your house, Stevie," Eddie said, and Steve started coughing loudly. "That cough sounds serious. You should get that looked at."

"Are you fucking serious?" Steve asked.

He groaned and buried his head into the couch pillow. Steve eventually drifted off, still completely naked. Of course, that's when Eddie decided that he needed a break and went to go get something to drink, walking past Steve sleeping on the couch. Eddie stopped, his brain on red alert all of a sudden, and he walked backward to get a good look at Steve on the couch. Holy shit. Steve was naked. He was lying face down, his bare ass up. What the fuck? He thought back to when Steve was talking to him. If only I had something to warm me up. Shit. He had been trying to get his attention. Oh, Eddie was idiot. He was asleep now, though. What should he do? He was too cute to wake up.

"Oh fuck!" Eddie cursed as quietly as he could. "Do I wake him up, or do I let him sleep? Do I wake him up, or do I let him sleep? What do I do?!"

"You should definitely wake him up," Steve mumbled.

So, Eddie hadn't been as quiet as he thought he had been.

"Hey, uh, Stevie," Eddie said. "You having a nap there?"

"Clearly, I was. Now, you're paying attention to me?" Steve asked.

He turned on his side, allowing Eddie to get a look at his front. Steve propped his head up on his elbow and fuck, he never looked sexier. Well, maybe if he was wearing Eddie's vest and nothing else. Oh God, get that image out of his head.

"Sorry," Eddie said, his face red.

"It's okay, come lay down so I can finish the nap," Steve said.

"What?!" Eddie exclaimed.

"It's your turn to wait, big boy," Steve said.

"That's fair," Eddie mumbled.

Eddie lay down next to him, stiffening up when Steve curled up next to him. He relaxed when Steve put his hand up his shirt and started rubbing smooth circles into his stomach. He actually was kind of tired.

"And what happens after we nap?" Eddie asked.

"Then you rail me into this couch like you're a sailor shipping out," Steve said, slapping his chest.

"Aye, Aye Captain."

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things s4 #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie ficlet #eddie seriously needs to pay attention to his surroundings

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marinetteplztakeabreak · 9 months

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The arc with the resistance in ml season five???? Is so good????????????? The way that???? Its been going on low-key for a while????? But theres this Massive Shift this season where literally the entire miracuclass stops running away from akumas or hiding???? And its like???? The fear is GONE by the end of the season???? Theyre not scared anymore theyre just pissed off????? At the system???? Not at the akumatized victims???? But also its not a “babying the akumas” thing either like when gabe is akumatized theyre like “WRONG BAD” at him????? Same with chloé???? But like the entire class will see a butterfly and start running TOWARDS it because theyre like “oh no someone needs help goddamit i gotta get there before hawkmoth” and they dont always win and they dont beat themselves up about it???? Like in confrontation, Juleka got akumatized despite their best efforts and theyre all like “ugh this sucks” but no one’s giving up hope or anything???????

And!!!!! The way that the anti-akuma charms work in that episode??????!?!??!?? The way the fandom has this trend of thinking like,,,, the only way to escape akumas is to push emotions away deep deep down,,,, thats how marinette and adrien have kind of been operating?!???? But then it’s revealed on no uncertain terms that the powerups of the anti akuma charms are reactive to emotions?????!?! That pushing things down doesnt help?? you have to Fight Back and FEEL on your own terms and accept others’ help and feelings?????

Juleka shutting down and curling up into a ball and trying to disapear didnt work!!!but her yelling about how its not fair and shes proud of mr damocles despite it all???? like??? Catalyzed the entire anti akuma charm shield thing???????

The way that this season has shown time and again that it’s okay to be mad and frustrated and hate the system and its okay to feel trapped and scared but you have to learn to reach out and find a good outlet for those emotions even if that outlet is yelling with your friends???? instead of isolating yourself and pushing away people who have your best interest at heart????? And lying and pretending it’s okay doesn’t help but looking for bits of real joy and support amidst the chaos does???

The way that ladybug and chat noir started this season as The Most Alone Theyve Ever Been with the miracle box stolen??? and realized by the end that no one needs powers to be heroes??? they just need to be able to trust each other and take turns carrying Hope for the group and remembering whats worth fighting for!? and as long as theres a drive to fight theres always little victories to celebrate??????????!??

(Also the way that Nino—who heads the resistance—literally calls everyone in his group including Bustier Comrade and the way that they talk about how sometimes it feels like no one’s listening and revolution is the only way?? and the way they address fears about spyware and technology only benefitting the elites and the school system being designed without students’ well-being in mind and environmental terror and the police being corrupt and they take all of that and they say “it is Still a worthy battle and it sucks but you are going to be okay,,, just do not give in to hopelessness… find the people who will help you keep fighting and keep believing in a better future and Cherish Them”)

People complain about this show going “off the rails” as it’s switching its target audience and addressing more “mature” themes or whatever but like do you guys understand how much every single narrative decision makes me scream

#ml spoilers #ml s5 spoilers #nino lahiffe

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bloompompom · 10 months

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Trending Now! Beloved, international pop sensation was spotted getting hot and heavy with the lead vocalist of Devil's Paradise, Eren Jaeger, at an after-party, sparking rumors of a secret fling. The unlikely couple has yet to comment publicly on the status of their relationship, but their scandal-worthy PDA alone implies they must know each other very well.

Ha! That couldn’t be any further from the truth.

♡ pairings: rockstar!eren jaeger x popstar!female reader, eren jaeger x historia reiss ♡ content: ~6.7k word count. enemies-to-lovers, jealousy, sexual themes, explicit language, alcohol, pet/nicknames, reader discretion advised. ♡ previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

★ Chapter Three ★

Your “relationship” is put to the test when it’s time for Devil’s Paradise to attend the alternative music award ceremony.

Historia Reiss. Member of Hysteria (Historia, Hysteria—the band name was a bit on the nose, wasn’t it?) Occupation: singer. Birthday: January 15th.

If it wasn’t obvious already, you were back on Google.

It was well past two o’clock in the morning now. You couldn’t remember when you crawled out of your bedroom, but hours must have passed since you decided some fresh air on your balcony might help. At the very least, it was better than pretending to sleep.

And it was at first, but now you were only curled up in your lounge chair, rotting away. The hood of your sweatshirt was tugged high over your head, your own private theater as you aimlessly scrolled through your phone, the blue light of the screen nibbling at your sanity—what remained of it.

It wasn’t considered online stalking if it was done in the name of research, right?

Historia was the teensy, blonde—natural, not from the bottle—woman of her, well, some sort of band. You didn’t know the best way to describe them. Post-punk? Goth pop? Whatever it was, however they wished to be categorized, that wasn’t your priority. Because no matter the article, Wikipedia page, or photo spread, your eyes were only keen on her.

She was something pulled straight from any basement dweller’s wet dream. Fresh-faced, eyes like a doe. Innocent. That was what they wanted you to think, what with how her hair was done up in pigtails more often than not. But from her choker necklace down, she was adorned in tight leather and scraps of lace. A girlish smile between pouty, pink lips, tied together with thigh highs and garters.

Of course Eren would date her.

She was little miss perfect. The kind of girl that photographed well but didn’t truly exist—at least that version of her. But you were sure people made the same remarks about you which was one of the countless reasons you steered clear of comment sections.

There had to be something wrong with her, lurking behind that porcelain smile. She willingly dated Eren. Then again, she did have enough sense to break things off with him. Maybe there was a smidgen of hope left for her.

You still needed to figure out the reason for their break up. Pieck would tell you it was none of your business, that you shouldn’t go around creating waves just to rock the boat, but your curiosity had gotten the best of you. You had to know. And if Eren planned to treat you as nothing more than a chess piece in the game that was winning back Historia, then you deserved to know. It was only fair.

Your first guess was that Historia dumped Eren for no other reason than he was a dick—remember dinner?—but that seemed too simple. While still remaining in the realm of possibility, your second guess was that Eren became too jealous.

Historia was the only woman in her band of—to put it bluntly—ridiculously hot dudes. Four of them, all pretty enough to have you swooning at their photos alone. Hey, you weren’t above admitting it. If anything, it was more evidence that you happened to end up in the wrong bungalow that fateful night.

That had to be why she dumped him. Eren couldn’t handle the heat, so Historia kicked him out of the metaphorical kitchen. He totally seemed like the jealous type, didn’t he? Always so gloomy and broody.

But the hunch was merely another strikeout.

Looking back on it, outrightly asking (didn’t you learn your lesson the first time?) probably wasn’t the best way to go about it, no matter how hard you tried to play it off coolly, even going far as trying to be empathetic. ‘I know I wouldn’t be able to handle it.’

Eren looked at you more or less like you had spit on his shoe. You should have predicted he’d have some sick sense of superiority about it. No, he wasn’t the jealous type in the slightest; it was more like he got off to the idea. You know, the whole ‘having what other guys wanted’ thing.

You then caustically reminded him that he no longer had Historia, nor a reason to act so cocky about it. It went without saying that it didn’t go over so well.

To Pieck’s everpresent dismay, it had been nearly a month, give or take a few days, since Sasha’s launch party, and you hadn’t seen much of Eren. Which, in turn, meant you hadn’t seen much of Jean and Connie. You were still thinking about them—what Sasha had told you about them—but you were getting lost between the lines.

You hadn’t had the time to spare a passing ‘hello,’ let alone pry their life stories out from them. And while modern technology had come a long away, unfortunately for you, Google still hadn’t advanced enough to tell you who the good guys were in this story.

That was how the night began, actually. Once the insomnia set in, you thought you’d try to learn more about them. You didn’t know when your innocent search switched from Connie Springer, born May 2nd, and Jean Kirstein, occupation: guitarist, to the desolate position you found yourself in now. You were an embarrassing number of pages deep into Google Images, eyes burned on Historia Reiss and her stupid pigtails and stupid mini skirts and her stupid—

You chucked your phone to the far end of the lounge chair. It almost skittered to the tile but luckily stopped short. There was no reason to work yourself up enough to nearly break your phone over someone—especially if that someone was Eren’s ex-girlfriend, whom you knew next to nothing about.

♡ ♡ ♡

In the morning—the real morning, not the three-o’clock-in-the-morning morning—you were snatched from your bed, tossed in the backseat of a car like a ragdoll, and driven an hour or so north. Sound like a kidnapping? Yeah, it sure felt like one.

In reality, you were up in a lofty hotel suite, plopped in a cushy chair right in front of the window (your team always requested rooms with the best natural lighting) with your styling team ceaselessly fussing over you.

Outside of a nap, which was out of the question, there wasn’t much that could make the situation better. You were about to be reduced to nothing more than Eren Jaeger’s arm candy for the night. Oh, if you could get a different makeup artist, that might help. Her grating voice sounded even more nasally as she scolded you. Yada yada—‘You need to make sure you get your beauty sleep’—bullshit. She was poking at your supposedly-puffy face, conjuring up all sorts of treatments that made your skin burn and your under eyes smell of cucumber.

You would have been more picky about today’s stylists if it weren’t for the fact Pieck had to coordinate with Eren’s team to help you ‘fit the vibe.’ As pompous as they were about it, you had to admit it was exciting. Enough that you could look past their attitudes—how bullishly she handled your face—because at least it was a change of pace. And while your outfit was chosen to complement Eren’s—not match, they assured—at least you didn’t resemble a disco ball. Far from it, actually.

The designer was one your usual styling team wouldn’t dare touch. They preferred more overstated looks and tonight, you were meant to play second to Eren. Just this once, of course. They had you zipped into a two-piece set, sleek and black, comprised of a bralette and a skirt that split over your right thigh.

After the stylists had packed up their belongings and left, the silence apparently was too much for Pieck to bear because she started in on her badgering next. When she interrogated you, you sheepishly said you didn’t sleep much because you were nervous about today. Which wasn’t a complete lie but still a half-truth at most.

That evening, you were to attend The Alternative Music Awards as Eren’s date. Devil’s Paradise had been nominated for the most prestigious category: Best Album of the Year. It was a big deal, the sort of event where an interview was completely unavoidable.

How couldn’t journalists try and win a statement from the shining star of Devil’s Paradise, the band that sprung up from seemingly nowhere and snagged a nomination? The singer who managed to snag the heart of you, Hollywood’s most eligible bachelorette for the past three years in a row—even if you begged them to stop naming you such.

They would undoubtedly lose their minds just hoping Eren would answer a single one of their questions. They’d cling to his every word like they were a bunch of starved vampires and he was no more than fresh meat, served on an elegant platter for the horde. They’d suck every juicy detail they could get from him. You’d walk the carpet together, let them get their precious pictures, then get scooped up by a random journalist only for it to become the highlight of their career.

Of course, you were well-versed in events like these—even grander ones. You knew how to stay on script and, more importantly, how to make said script sound natural. You knew how to make your voice carry to the likes of thousands, and you knew how to speak slowly and clearly with proper annunciation.

But something about tonight was… different. Nervous wasn’t the right word for it, but the feeling lived in the same spot, like soft flutters around your heart.

Tonight would be the first time you’d trot around as someone’s date, and it was all a lie. A relationship built off nothing more than tabloid fodder. One wrong move and who knew what Twitter would say tomorrow. You could practically read the headlines now: Love on the Rocks. Get it? Pretty clever, if you did say so yourself.

Petra came knocking on your hotel door not long after, you spotted her through the peephole. She walked you through the halls and up to the top floor, where the band was staying. Before you even turned the corner, you could hear Connie’s laughter from behind the door because, as you were learning, it was always too loud.

Petra swung the door opened and welcomed you to the penthouse suite. They needed the largest one, considering there were four of them. Though the entire band was present, their own sets of stylists circling each of them, the space still didn’t feel quite as suffocating as your own downstairs.

When you asked, Petra reluctantly pointed you in Mikasa’s direction. She was in stark contrast to Connie’s everpresent whimsy, tucked in the corner of her private room, picking away at her freshly-painted nails until someone swatted at her to stop.

She poked her head up then, smiling at you only because it was cordial to do so, not out of delight. Her lips stayed pursed for another moment before she hesitantly asked, “How do you handle all of this?” Then she started picking at her cuticles again.

You wished you had a better answer—or any answer at all. You could only shrug. You hated yourself for it, but you had nothing of value to offer, no wise words would soothe her soul. She looked to you because she believed you had grown accustomed to fame and everything that came along with it, as if anyone could grow accustomed to it.

You sat at the edge of the hospital-corner crisp bed. You were stiff with it, mainly because you could feel your skirt cinching deep into your waist. Still, you smiled at her as you said, “You were nominated for a reason, remember that.”

She mirrored the expression, your smile but softer. Everything about her face went soft right then, even behind the sharply manicured look her team spent the day perfecting. You saw her, maybe more than you had before. You patted the space next to you and she took you up on it willingly, sitting down with slouched shoulders.

“I just—” There was a far-off look in her eye. Not in a bad way, more like she was looking at a distant star; there was still a glimmer. “It doesn’t feel real. Last year, it felt like an honor just to be able to attend an award show. Multiple—we were even invited to the Grammy’s. We were so new then—we still are. And now we’re sitting front row, alongside all the other nominees.”

Mikasa paused, sighed, and looked more at peace when she said, “That’s enough for me, I think. Just to be recognized.”

Her smile, still small but real this time, warmed her face.

Before you could think of something to say back, the heartfelt moment between you was interrupted by, “There you are. Everyone’s—”

It was Eren, cutting himself short the instant your eyes met. His expression wasn’t entirely soured, but he glared at you like you were an unwelcome surprise, oozing with disinterest.

You didn’t hold his attention any longer than that, and he cleared his throat before telling Mikasa, “Everyone’s looking for you.”

She gave an honest chuckle and questioned, “And they didn’t think to check my room?”

“That’s my job, apparently.”

Mikasa rose from the bed and dabbed the corners of her eyes before she became too emotional. Eren didn’t budge when she tried to pass him in the doorway. They shared a hard look, one you couldn’t quite decipher, before she whispered, “I’m good. Promise.” After, he stepped out of her way.

When she was gone, he only glanced back at you to ask, “Is she—”

“Yeah. She’ll be fine,” you said. Eren nodded once.

You didn’t know what to make of Eren and Mikasa’s relationship. Mikasa had told you things, but the specifics—well, you weren’t sure. To be honest, whenever the name ‘Eren’ left her lips, you immediately tuned her out. To say you were through with everyone’s elevator pitches would be an understatement. It was like everyone wanted to sell you on the idea of Eren, as if it were possible. But either way, Mikasa and Eren were tight. It was a simple fact you had to deal with if you wanted to be friends with her.

Oh!

What if Eren was never jealous of Historia’s hot bandmates because he and Mikasa had this weird thing going on? Maybe Historia was the jealous one, leading her to dump him.

You stewed on it long enough to forget you were still in Mikasa’s hotel room. Eren was there, too, for some reason. He stood there awkwardly, like he was waiting on you to say something—or do something, for that matter.

You straightened out your skirt as you stood from the bed. Once you could breathe properly again, you asked, “So, um, how are you feeling?”

“You know,” he said offhandedly, like you were supposed to understand what he meant. You were unsure if he was acting blasé or if he assumed, like Mikasa, you’d know the feeling.

You did—obviously you did; you had just covered it with Mikasa—but you still didn’t say anything back. Instead, you only offered another vague gesture. You weren’t sure what to call it. A twitchy shrug? A half-nod? Something between there.

Looking at Eren, you saw what your wardrobe stylist meant when he said your look would complement Eren’s. He was dressed in all black—what was new?—with his hair styled and slicked back save for the few pieces that had been artfully picked out of place. His face was smooth and fresh-shaven; you could smell it on him as you breezed by him on your way out. The sort of scent that gave your nostrils a cold sting, reminiscent of inhaling after eating a mint. He must have not been stressed enough for a cigarette, you noted. Or he was trying to cover it up.

The main room was barren when you returned. All signs of their stylists had vanished, leaving you alone with the bandmates and Petra. After taking a phone call, she informed you she was needed elsewhere but would come to retrieve you when it was time to leave. According to her, you and Eren would drive separately from the rest of the band, arriving shortly after so as to build anticipation, as she put it.

She scurried out, and Jean returned to fiddling with his hair. You paced for a moment, watching Mikasa struggle with Connie’s tie because he had undone it after complaining it was too tight. With twenty minutes to kill, at the very least, you figured you might as well pop quiz Eren on how you ‘first met.’ You’d prefer his first flub happen with you than in front of a camera.

“You tried to go home with me at an after-party,” Eren quipped, entirely unbothered as he lounged on the sofa.

You reached for the candy dish on the coffee table and tossed one at him. He flinched when it bounced off his forehead and scowled, “It’s not wrong if it’s the truth.”

Connie returned, his tie now ever so loosely around his neck, and butted in. “He has a point.”

You threw a piece of candy at him next, but he caught it in his mouth. You wondered if he’d give you a run for your money in your popcorn-catching contests with Pieck.

“It’s not the truth because I didn’t want to go home with him,” you corrected, openly speaking to Eren but with eyes fixed on Connie. “Not after what he said to me.”

You caught Jean’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He had on a proud grin as he said, “I knew it.”

“What did he say?” Connie asked, looking entirely too interested. “We knew he fucked up, but he wouldn’t tell us how.”

Any embarrassment you held toward the situation had disappeared long ago. You were flippant—actually, you were more than happy to tell them, “He called me generic.”

You heard a very heavy sigh from Mikasa, clear across the room, but she left it at that.

“Brutal,” Jean said, tutting his tongue at his bandmate.

No better than a dopey cartoon character, Connie slapped a hand to his forehead. “Dude! Bullying girls? Did you pull that from your elementary school playbook?”

Eren told him to fuck off but didn’t get any farther than that before his phone cut him off. He sucked in a breath, understandably relieved by the break in tension, rolling his eyes before he stormed past Connie to his room.

Once the door shut behind him, Mikasa spoke softly to you. You didn’t make out all of it, but the message was along the lines of, “Don’t listen to him.”

You snorted. “I don’t.”

Connie turned to Jean, mockingly hid his mouth with his hand, and only pretended to whisper, “A hundred bucks says they’re totally gonna smash by the end of this.”

Mikasa shot him those ‘cut it out’ daggers, but you rebuked, “I hope you’re not talking about Eren and me.”

Connie only ignored it, marching right on by with, “It’s gonna be all—” He paused to lower his voice, like he was putting on his best Eren impression. “I never hated you, not even for a second. The only thing I hated was the fact I didn’t get to love you for real.”

He drove the performance home by taking Jean by his shirt collar, yanking him close, and smooching the air around his face.

Jean shoved him off. “Get away from me!”

He wiped his face as if he had actually been kissed, and Connie cackled like a hyena beside him.

Sasha’s words rang truer the more you witnessed their banter. They didn’t take themselves too seriously, and despite the confines of this career, they were able to have fun. And that was a lot more than you could say about the people you’d typically spend your time with. It was refreshing.

Petra collected you and Eren, then escorted you down to the car. She informed you that she believed it best if you let Eren do the talking tonight. ‘We wouldn’t want you mixing up your stories.’ Insert a canned laugh here. ‘Wouldn’t that be just awful?’

She said it with the same giggly tone she always carried, but she laid on the ‘advice’ thick. Do as your told and everything will run smoothly.

The way she spoke reminded you of Pieck, and that was when you realized it was no coincidence that Pieck shared a similar suggestion earlier that day. She was casual enough that you trusted her when she said you should sit back, relax, and enjoy being a plus one for a change. You believed it came from the goodness of her heart, but now it sounded more like she and Petra were in cahoots.

Eren didn’t argue it. He looked just as complacent as ever by the end of her spiel. In a hurry, she ushered you into the car, told you to break a leg, then slammed the door behind you.

You wanted time to slow down, but the next thing you knew, you and Eren were exiting the limousine together. He stepped out first and rightfully offered you his hand. Before you were even halfway out of the car—it took a second, the damned skirt was really tight—you were met with booming voices and blinded by camera flashes.

You froze mid-step. Yes, this was nothing new to you, and you reminded yourself of such, but the thought of leaving the fate of tonight up to Eren left a bad taste in the back of your tongue.

Eren must have sensed your rigidity. That, or maybe it was your clammy palm that gave it away. He hooked an arm around yours, pulling you along with him.

As he tugged you close, he leaned into you, barely moving his lips as he whispered, “You don’t have to like me, you just have to pretend you do. I got the rest.”

You didn’t like how he said that last part. I got the rest. That was exactly what you feared, actually. Even so, you conceded to him for the sake of the cameras, even if you weren’t confident in the decision.

As predicted, reporters whisked Eren away left, right, and in every direction. First for a short interview with the band, then a solo one, and then the cycle continued. All the while, you only watched from a distance.

Eren was talking to a woman when he spun around, eyes spotting you in the crowd instantly. from the far side of the carpet. He beckoned you over with the gracious wave of his hand, smiling at you, all toothy and big, like he had never done before.

He was really playing it up, even winking at you as you neared him. Outsiders were surely eat it up, but only you knew the true meaning behind it. Follow my lead. Or what was more likely: Get your shit together.

“See, what did I say? Look at her,” Eren continued from wherever he had left off. He wrapped his hand around yours to lift it, sounding debonair as he told you, “Be an angel and do a spin for me.”

You told him to stop calling you that.

Your cheeks strained to fight off your scowl, but you replaced it with a saccharine smile. You twirled like he asked, and as a reward, he released your hand from his clutches. You dropped it to your waist, flexing your fingers as if you could rid the feeling of Eren from them.

“We were just talking about you,” he explain, kind enough that you’d believe he enjoyed talking about you. You didn’t fall for it.

“Good things, I hope,” you giggled.

“I was about to tell her how I managed to land the most gorgeous fuc—sorry,” he chuckled. Slip-ups like that were his schtick. You learned that from the interviews you scoured through. He corrected himself, “How I landed the most gorgeous girl.”

The interviewer, her corny grin painted from ear to ear, nudged the microphone even closer to Eren’s face.

“Believe it or not,” he started, eyeing you briefly as he drawled it out.

Here it was: the big moment. Would he commit to the plan, or would he screw you over?

“She messaged me on Instagram.”

You felt your eye twitch; Pieck was rubbing off on you. You hoped the camera didn’t catch it.

“Really?” The interviewer’s eyes lit up. She was lucky number one, the first to get her hands on the details surrounding your relationship. She was desperate for any crumbs you’d throw her way. “Do tell.”

“We went out for drinks and—what did you say again?” Eren glanced over to you like he was about to offer you the chance to answer but salted the wound by jumping in again. “I think you said it was love at first sight, didn’t you?”

You were going to kill him. You were actually going to—

“I think you’re putting words in my mouth, ‘Ren,” you said, trying your best to unclench your jaw. You wanted to be cute about it, but the nickname tasted bitter as it left your tongue. Though it did seem to catch Eren off guard based on the tick of confusion (interest?) in his brows.

The interviewer was too busy eating it up—oohing and aahing just as much as one would imagine—that she didn’t notice the peak in tension. You had given her plenty of scraps to scrounge over, so you bounced along to the next. Surely, it would get easier as the night went on, wouldn’t it?

“Why did you switch the story like that?” you hissed. You spoke low enough that only Eren would hear it but deepened the octave to mimic him, much like Connie. “Is your pride really that important to you?”

“Do you really have to ask? It wasn’t believable the other way around,” Eren said.

“No, you did it to annoy me,” you accused.

Eren slipped his arm around you, touting you in front of the reporters, witnesses, for more photo ops before you could make a scene.

“That was just an added bonus. Besides, you were the one who said I could embellish.”

His plan worked because you didn’t say anything back, not that you wanted to. But karma soon kicked his legs out from under him because after one photographer heckled the two of you to kiss, a chant broke out.

You didn’t like being harassed like a circus animal, and you liked the idea of kissing Eren even less. That being said, you loved the idea of pissing him off by returning the favor. You smiled up at him, batting your eyelashes in exchange for the shit-eating grin you wanted to wear.

He showed his reluctance through a sharp inhale through his nose, something the cameras wouldn’t catch but for you alone. You tried not to take offense to it. After all, the feeling was mutual.

So, only for the sake of your careers, he turned you to him with just a hand on the small of your back. Eyes intent, he scanned your face once, and there was a twitch in his lip just before he kissed you.

Unsure of what to do—you had never (intentionally) kissed for the camera before—you placed your palm against his chest like he was your prom date. Kissed like one, too. No different than a PG-rated kiss in front of your parents, and it felt just as awkward and embarrassing and strange until…

Eren’s hand smoothed higher up your back, stopping at the back of your head, where the base of your skull met your neck, and brought you in for a deeper, more convincing kiss. You heard the shutters snap faster before you registered what was happening. The sound of it compared to cicadas in your ears, loud enough to drone out your racing heart.

Just as abruptly as he pulled the stunt, he ended it. He leaned back to look at you, and instantly, insecurity washed over you in a swelter.

He held your gaze for a moment before snapping from it, entirely unfazed as he waved off the photographers with, “Now ditch the old photo, will ya?”

You heard the laughter behind you, but you were still looking up at him. You swallowed hard to get your camera-ready smile back before facing your audience again.

When you could walk away and finally disappear inside, Eren whispered, “You’re a better kisser when you’re not drunk.” You felt your eyebrows spring high on your forehead. “Still not great.”

Then they dropped into a glower. “Shut up.”

You counted time with glasses of champagne and how many names had been announced. You lost track of both, leaving you with the effervescent sort of head-buzz you only get from champagne. You named it the reason for your unusually high tolerance for Eren—at least, enough to seek him out to keep your attention occupied.

You hadn’t met most of the people here, and when Eren finally realized your nosiness wasn’t going away any time soon, he downed the rest of his glass and played along. He’d whisper his answers—little tidbits, if he knew them, if he liked them—so you’d know who was who. It made you wonder what you’d say to him if he were your date for your next nomination because, let’s face it, it was inevitable. There wasn’t a need for being humble here.

You were sure he only indulged you to get his mind off the impending bomb about to drop. There was no denying Eren was sitting on pins and needles the entire show, even if he didn’t show it. They’d grow sharper, more unbearable, and the only antidote was—

“And the winner of Best Rock Album of the Year goes to—” Pause for suspense. It was more like the award for World’s Slowest Envelope Opening. “Devil’s Paradise!”

The announcement was followed by a roaring crowd. Thunderous claps, applause you could feel in your bones. You rose to your feet with the band, granting them the space to pass you on their way to the aisle.

All the color was leeched from Mikasa’s shocked face, which wasn’t much to begin with. As she looked between her bandmates—her friends—her expression melted into an extrodinary smile after a few disbelieving laughs. When Jean grabbed her for a hug, you turned to Eren next.

He looked so happy.

As the camera panned your way, Eren enclosed you in his arms. He would have hugged anyone at his side, regardless of who they were, so you didn’t think anything of it when you wiggled from his squeeze to place a hand on his back. Perhaps, you could admit, you were wrapped up in the commotion, too.

You could smell him again, the tang of aftershave. It stuck in your nose while he and the rest of the band passed you to reach the aisle. Even as they trailed up the steps of the stage, it was still there; you felt it in your stomach now.

You couldn’t have been the only one in the room to assume Eren would make the speech. But when the presenter offered him the microphone, he only stepped back and motioned for Mikasa to go ahead. She faltered, evidently taken by the gesture, but she didn’t let it last longer than a second. She was stunned but not enough to forget she was live and on stage. She didn’t hesitate again as she took center stage.

She spoke sweetly and with the same elegance that drew you to her in the first place. You could tell she was buzzing even from the audience. The anxiety and excitement bubbled through her voice, and still, she nailed it. You had a feeling she may have rehearsed a little something, just in case.

When everything had died down and the band returned to their seats, you couldn’t help but stare at Eren. Well, it was more like stolen glances, but you were sure that if he caught you, he’d call you out for staring. But if he did notice, he was doing an excellent job at pretending he hadn’t.

You didn’t know what you were thinking, couldn’t place the feeling, but you felt something you could only describe as a warmth in your chest. It glowed brighter, especially as you looked to Mikasa on the other side of him. She clung to the award, beaming, with Connie’s arm wrapped over her shoulders.

The sight was still on your mind on your way out. While you walked back to the car, you felt just bold enough to ask Eren, “Hey, why didn’t you accept the award? I’m sure everyone expected to hear something from you.”

His eyes only flickered back to you—he was either a quick walker or simply avoiding your proximity—before he answered, “You saw Mikasa earlier. It meant a lot to her.”

“I know. But I’m sure it meant a lot to you, too.”

“I’ll live.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what I would have said anyway. Mikasa’s better at those sorts of things.”

He wasn’t telling the truth. Eren was the lyricist behind their songs, every one of them. It was something his representatives boasted over in that first meeting. He had to have something to say, and you’d bet he would have said it well. You decided not to question it further because, for once, you weren’t arguing. Not to mention, he didn’t need an ego more inflated than the one he already had.

Though you’d get dropped off at the hotel and Eren was to join the rest of the band for more celebration, you still shared a car to sell the illusion. The pathway there was carved with paparazzi. With your vision still adjusting from the dark theater, flashes took hold of your eyesight. Eren draped his suit jacket over your shoulders, unprompted, and you were glad Petra didn’t get the satisfaction of seeing it, even if he only did it because of the cameras.

Your suspicion was confirmed when you took your seat first, and he, without a missing a beat, chose to sit across from you. The mirage had crumbled, the carriage turned back into a pumpkin, and you were free to go your separate ways at last.

But there must have been a part of you still trapped in dreamland because why else would you say aloud, “You know, that wasn’t so bad. At least, I won’t dread going to the next one—as long as you stick to the plan next time.”

He must have picked up on something in your voice because he amused, “You think our fake relationship will make it ‘til next year?”

Whether you didn’t hear it or you didn’t want to hear it, you steamrolled over his question and blurted out, “Hold on, do you really think I’m a bad kisser?”

Not only had you failed to consider the implication behind attending another of his award shows, but now you actually cared if he thought you were a bad kisser. By the sound of it, you must have forgotten your brain at home.

Your only defense this time was that your curiosity got the best of you yet again. Yeah, that was it.

Eren didn’t reply, and he certainly didn’t appear like he planned on entertaining the question. He gave you that same blank look he always did, eyes bored and brimming with sheer disinterest.

“Don’t make it weird. Just answer the question,” you jeered. Then you got an idea—one you’d hold the champagne accountable for later. “No, wait—let me prove you wrong. Kiss me.”

He shut it down immediately. “No.”

Despite yourself, you unbuckled your seatbelt and crawled into the space beside him. You were determined to shut him up now, but only out of spite or stubbornness or whatever you wished to call it.

His shoulders tensed slightly as he recoiled from you. You were little more than a pest to him.

You made a face at him, like he couldn’t possibly be serious. “I said don’t make it weird. It’s just a kiss. We both know it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’m not going to kiss you,” Eren said firmly. “You’re drunk.”

“It’s not like that stopped you the first time.”

You inched closer him and he scooted further away from you.

“I was drunk too, obviously.” Eren rested his face in his hand as he looked out the window.

You were under the impression he was ending the conversation until you heard him mutter under his breath, “Drunk enough to get back with my ex, apparently.”

Finally, like the young journalist, you were getting your first glimpse into his breakup with Historia. You let the statement float between you before you dared to poke it, like a bubble you weren’t quite willing to let pop.

You remained quiet as you asked, “You wouldn’t have done it sober?”

As cautious as you were, it didn’t matter to him. He still snapped, “Are you always like this when you drink?”

You pouted. “Like what?”

“Annoying.”

You sank to the other side of the seat, as far away from him as possible, muttering, “It was just a question.”

Again, you believed Eren no longer wished to speak with you, whether it was about Historia or something as docile as the weather. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed he was a bit restless, rubbing the back of his neck.

Eventually, he said, “I guess I wasn’t expecting her to reach out.”

He wasn’t talking to you directly. Or at least, it didn’t seem like it because his eyes were still fixed on the window, on every car and light as they whizzed by. But unlike before, you chose not to say anything because it was starting to feel like even he didn’t have the answers you were looking for.

And you’d be right. Every question you’d ask was nothing Eren hadn’t already asked himself, and the answer would always be the same: he didn’t fucking know.

It was the honest-to-god truth that Eren was surprised to hear from Historia that night. For reasons that went without mentioning, he wasn’t even thinking about her, and it had been a while since he could confidently say that.

He didn’t know why he went back to her. For old-time’s sake? Out of loneliness? Because he had effectively blue-balled himself just an hour earlier?

The root cause didn’t matter because he did it, and he couldn’t change it now.

No, Eren didn’t regret it. And if he had the chance to go back in time and ignore the call, would he? Probably not. While he didn’t know what he wanted—what he should even expect—from Historia, it felt good to have something, someone. And he just wanted to feel good again.

He could tell you were looking at him. You hadn’t been discreet about it all night. He would have called you on it by now if it didn’t make him nervous.

Eren hated saying that—that you, of all people, had him nervous. He thought it was because you reminded him of the night you met, still just as forward as ever.

Perhaps it was more accurate to say you unnerved him, made his chest tight. He wanted to pin it on his disdain for you. And believe him, he tried. He’d correct himself each time he found you adorably tipsy, like it was an intrusive thought, reminding himself what a headache you were.

The car came to its final halt—your cue to step out. You had sat in silence for the last twenty minutes, so you didn’t bother to say goodbye or spare a final word. You did give a half-shrug, his jacket bunched between your fist as you kept it tight against you.

His jacket.

You were out the door with it slammed behind you by the time he realized it. Eren lunged across the backseat to roll the window down, calling after you, “Give me back my jacket!”

You didn’t even look back at him, only picking up your skitter of a pace as you shouted back a ‘no!’ still very clearly enjoying that champagne.

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