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showtoonzfan · 8 months

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Now that the episode is out officially, here’s my rant review of Oops!

PROS:

- Fizz and Ozzie were adorable and I honestly love them. Despite the sex jokes, you can tell they love each other for who they are OUTSIDE of sex. While I did wish we would have seen more, (like how Ozzie took him in and fell in love) they’re still adorable to watch. They’re the better version of Stolitz, can the show be about them instead?

- Brandon’s voice acting holy shit, he really knows how to sound like he’s in tears or is broken. As much as I hate the character and feel no sympathy, he displayed genuine and broken emotion very well.

- Alex Brightman Alex Brightman

Okay that’s it. Moving on to the Cons. Bear with me, it’s a lot and I go back and forth a bit. 😭

CONS:

So for a quick short summary, this episode:

- Once again puts more focus on the filler plot rather than actually focusing on the relationships between the characters, so all we're left with is a 10 second clip of Fizz being burned while the rest of the episode is surrounded on sex jokes/petty bickering and Stolas and Ozzie sitting around.

- Completely erases what made Blitz and Fizz's dynamic interesting in the first place because it retcons it with a dumb miscommunication trope about how Fizz actually wanted to see Blitz and Blitz tried reaching out to him. Not only does this feel like a cheap attempt to make Blitz out to be sweet/sympathetic and NOT the one in the wrong so Fizz can suck up to him, but this also makes no sense within the narrative.

- Has Fizz forgive Blitz despite him being the last person anyone would think would forgive him. (So honestly ruins Fizz himself because it turned him into a soft boy who's forgiving compared to the asshole he was in Ozzie's) All because Viv would sell her whole soul before she even remotely considers painting characters like Blitz and Stolas out to be the one's in the wrong.

- Takes Stolas out of the hospital completely, erasing all the drama/tension Western Energy had and proves that that episode was utterly pointless.

- Turns Striker from an interesting complex villain to a Saturday morning cartoon goon.

- Proves to us that Crimson is just a flat tool and gives us more prove that the world building rules Viv set up in season 1 legit don't matter.

-Ruins Blitz/Barbie's feud now because now you're making Barbie look like the one in the wrong since the fire was an accident. God forbid a female characters emotions in this show are justified.

But if you want my more in depth rants, it’s under the cut! (There’s a lot so bear with me lol)

- As usual WAAY too many sex jokes and swearing. It gets annoying and repetitive at times and some of them distract from the main plot. There’s a long and I mean LONNG dragged out joke of Fizz talking about Ozzie’s dick, then later saying he’s hard when Striker has a gun to his head, as well as Blitz making a joke about him and Fizz making out once they hug. Again, Viv can’t be serious for 2 seconds without an unfunny shitty gag. I genuinely wonder if Hazbin is ganna be like this, where a character is in a life threatening situation or a deep dark serious scene happens only for the next scene to be sex related.

- This is one of those “shit happens because the plot demands it” and it shows. Crimson and Striker COINCIDENTLY meet up with each other, and Fizz and Blitz just so HAPPEN to be in the same exact area they are. Viv wonders why we call her shit a fanfic and this is what we mean, when she creates wild wacky plots and focuses more on THAT rather than the actual character writing. This entire episode hinges on a useless poorly last minute planned kidnapping plot that didn’t need to happen. Also way to once again make the characters idiots so the plot can happen, cause Fizz KNOWS Ozzie worries for him and that the Greed Ring is dangerous, yet purposefully puts the spotlight on him.

- Stolas did NOT need to be in this episode. The plot completely ignores the fact that he was in the hospital the last time we saw him, and he’s only here for Stolitz banter. You’d think that a character admitting they have feelings for someone would be a big deal but he just flat out says it and it’s so underwhelming and feels half assed with no weight to it. Fan comics have made more dedication to this than Viv has. We're supposed to believe him too despite the show failing to actually SHOW us this. Same for Blitz ranting about how “nice” Stolas has been to him, laughing at his jokes and liking his posts…hey Viv, can we actually SEE that on screen so it’s more believable? Or are you only determined to show them sexually flirting? 😑

- Once again Viv felt the need to shove a B plot into this episode and this one sucks because it’s just two characters sitting and doing fucking nothing. It felt like Viv had no idea what to do with Stolas and Ozzie, and I refuse to believe that Ozzie just sat there knowing Fizz was in danger. If anything he would have said “fuck the paperwork” and went to save Fizz himself. Way to show that gif of Ozzie getting mad as a sneak peak to get fans excited, only to see that Ozzie spends the rest of the episode sitting in a dark room LMAO what a let down.

- Ozzie is weirdly chill and cool with Stolas and it’s something I don’t get. While he did say that Stolas had the real “spirit of Lust” in S1E7, it still gave you the impression that he was also more poking fun at Stolas rather than respecting him. The whole point of House of Asmodeous was that Ozzie outs him and publicly embarrassed him. Stolas literally was intimidated just by Asmodeous’s mere name, and hid his face around him. It seemed like Stolas certainly didn’t want someone like Ozzie to know about his private life especially since they’re both part of the Ars Goetia. Now here Ozzie is just cool with him and it feels like a missed opportunity for their dynamic.

- Stolas confessing his feelings about Blitz also makes…no sense narrative wise. I thought the whole point of The Circus and the ending to Western Energy was that he was realizing that Blitz didn’t like him that way and was finally waking up. I thought that’s why he was doing this whole crystal deal in the first place, so he can let Blitz go, yet the show keeps flip flopping and insisting that these two love each other and are good for each other. It’s really making you realize how this season and the previous stuff set up is becoming nonsense because the writers retcon EVERY damn episode. Also….why the hell is Stolas telling Ozzie his feelings for Blitz? Out of all people, why is it Ozzie, the person who outed Stolas and embarrassed him. Why is Stolas even respectful of Ozzie? He has no reason to, and he’s not under the impression that he’s dating Fizz either. I get that he needs the crystal but mentioning his love for Blitz makes no sense.

- Striker and Crimson teaming up to kidnap Blitz and Fizz was such an ass puller last minute decision. It feels overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time, more because it feels like Viv has no idea what to do with these two villain characters other than give them something evil to do to start the plot. Also…why…are they working together? It feels so random.

- Striker’s character especially is all over the place. First he’s working for Stella, then he’s painted as the best assassin in hell, and now he’s…looking for more work I guess and working for Crimson? Why? Does this guy even have a motive anymore? It feels like his character is just dangling around until Viv wants to use him for another wattpad kidnap plot and it ESPECIALLY shows when Striker escapes for the THIRD fucking time. Can this character/storyline actually GO somewhere or are you just going to keep introducing him and have him run away. 🤦🏽‍♀️

— How did Crimson not know who Striker is despite him being labeled as “the most popular assassin in hell”, and how the hell does Crimson know Ozzie and know all the information about him being in a relationship with Fizz?? Oh right because we needed the plot to happen somehow. Still, even if Crimson did know that Ozzie was the "weakest" and loved Fizz, (which….what about Beezlebub?)) he still should have known he was playing with fire. I get that he's supposed to be evil and intimidating but how could he have predicted that Ozzie would actually stand down and fill out the paperwork? He could have immediately came there and killed Crimson for all he knew. It's just distracting how..not planned this shit was.

- Fuck this episode for calling Striker a supremacist. It makes no sense?? Viv is trying SO hard to villainize him despite him being the one in the right and it pisses me off. He has every right to be mad at the upper class, he’s part of the lower class that we’re said Hell takes advantage of, but god forbid we call out Rich and powerful Stolas because that would mean he’s a b-bad person and we can’t have that complex morality! This is so not a “eat the rich” story and it shows bc Vivzie is rich as hell. Striker as a character deserves so much better man. Congrats writers, you had an interesting character and motive set up for him, now he’s nothing but a silly goon that you might as well kill off already cause you clearly don’t care about him. Crimson meanwhile is just a piece of paper, a boring plot device I could give less of a shit about. I thought his motive was to go after Moxxie, now he’s just doing fuck whatever because this show desperately wants a bad guy for their filler fanfic plots.

- We get more world building issues, Ozzie and Fizz are so determined to hide their relationship for obvious reasons, but then at the end of the episode just say “fuck it, no one would dare tell anyway”. So now they’re being open about their relationship and lmao I told y’all the newspaper scene of Ozzie being called out for being a hypocrite wouldn’t go anywhere. Even if Ozzie did threaten his workers to not tell, they can’t be so sure that someone wouldn’t see or snitch, it’s kinda a retcon too cause they were pretty lovey dovey in Ozzie’s. Still, it makes the characters look dumb and it makes the rules Viv set up for Hell once again not mean anything.

- We finally get to see Fizz’s backstory in action and it’s executed in the most underwhelming way possible. It’s literally a fucking 10 second clip of what went down, and rather than experiencing the event for ourselves, it’s in flashback mode but with Fizz’s voice talking over it. That’s it. I’ve seen fan comics/fanart that built this shit up better than Viv did, that actually took the slow time and dedication it needed, and here it feels like such an afterthought, like Viv could care less. Maybe if this actually was a character driven show like Viv claims, Stolas, Striker, and Crimson would be taken out of the picture and then that would leave us with PLENTY time to actually explore and develop Blitz/Fizz, bc most of this episode is just them pettily bickering and Stolas and Ozzie sitting around. But nah, we gatta have our fanfic kidnapping plot. Same goes for the reveal of Blitzo’s mom dying in the same fire. Glad to know that she got the same treatment Moxxie’s mom did, where we don’t even know her and yet we’re supposed to feel moved and care about her death. You nailed that one Viv. 👍

- I predicted that this episode would victimize Blitz and have the fire incident be an accident, (because Viv is a pussy writer and can’t make her characters actually do bad things like god forbid) but I never thought they’d actually have the balls to have Fizz forgive Blitz immediately in the same episode and pull the “actually turns out that horrible thing you did to me helped me in a way”- trope. Biggest flaw of the episode, fuck you Viv. I was actually going to applaud Blitz for taking accountability, but then the dialogue reminds you that an abuser wrote this, and he shifts his apology to “okay but I lost something too see so it’s not all about you” as if he’s fucking dismissing Fizz’s trauma and making it about himself. “I love flawed characters” my fucking ass. I would have smacked a bitch if I was Fizz because Blitzo loosing his mother in the fire too isn’t an excuse?? Fizz lost his fucking ARMS AND LEGS, and at the end of the day Blitzo STILL KNEW HE WAS HELPLESS IN THE FIRE BUT LEFT HIM BEHIND. He could have gotten help and came back, but didn’t. If this were a good show Fizz would have threw that apology back in Blitzo’s face and said “I don’t care if it was an accident or not, you still left me there and then proceeded to loathe me for years”. This is why Helluva will never be Bojack cause at least characters in that show who got treated horribly by him knew when to say “no, fuck you.”

- The episode retcons again, this time they make it out to be that Blitz TRIED contacting Fizz the years they were apart but no one would let him see him. Then they say that Fizz actually WANTED to see Blitz but assumed he didn’t want to, so their entire feud was solely because of miscommunication?? Number one, show don’t fucking tell omg. And number two, that makes ZERO sense. Blitz talked badly about Fizz in Loo Loo Land, and when they finally reunited in Ozzie’s, it was clear they fucking loathed each other. You got the impression that Blitz was petty and jealous just because Fizz was more popular, and Fizz not only loathed him for the accident, but liked to rub in his face about how much of a big shot he was. They literally do that in this episode too, so the episode is literally contradicting itself. Blitz and Fizz had multiple chances to meet up with each other, you can’t just say “oh they couldn’t because no one would let them”- So which is it? Did they hate each other because of bad blood, petty drama, or that they thought the other didn’t want to see them? Pick ONE Viv and stick to it, but she never does. Their feud was interesting and now you ruined it just to have some sweet happy ending. “Adult mature show” my ass lol.

-Bottom line is Fizz shouldn’t have forgave Blitz so easily, or forgave him period. I find it funny how he says “it’s hard to just forgive you” and then he literally does lol. I feel so bad for Fizz fans, him and Blitz’s feud was honestly interesting, so to see all of this go down in a half-assed piss poor way as if this was Care Bears is….wow. The fan interpretations had more thought and care put into this storyline but what else is new lol.

- I’m really tired of these shitty annoying songs. If you’re going to get Broadway actors, please put effort into your songwriting and actually have them sing something good, not something that’s literally nonsense. This Fizz song sounds like it took less than a minute to write and Sam Haft was just thinking of anything he could think of at the top of his head. Also Why the fuck are Striker and Crimson just STANDING there while Fizz sings. They look like idiots, just SHOOT them omg. If this were a funny show, Fizz would have started his first note and Crimson just rolls his eyes and pulls his gun out.

- Fizz and Ozzie kill the lawyer but not…Crimson? Despite Fizz knowing what ring he’s in and even Ozzie knowing what he looks like? Same for Blitz, he doesn’t try to make sure Striker is dead. I get that the plot demands for these two to still be around, but there’s a way to keep them alive without making the main characters look like fucking idiots. Also Stolas just leaves without doing or contributing anything to the plot yay.

- Fizz: “Let him have it, you could say he’s earned it”— Uhm….Nope. Blitz did NOT earn shit. He didn’t even earn Fizz’s forgiveness. Last time I checked, the moment Blitz cried and said it was an accident, Fizz forgave him, knowing he didn’t mean it. What effort did Blitz do to “earn” that as well as the crystal? Because he saved Fizz and didn’t leave him behind for the SECOND time near the end?? Cause if so than the bar is extremely low. That’s the bare minimum, just because Blitz cried and felt bad about it doesn’t mean he should be let off the hook Viv. I hate this so much, what a shitty conclusion, it feels forced just so Blitz can have the crystal and just so the writers can once again paint him as the one in the right. It’s almost insulting that they make it seem like Fizz was in the wrong for assuming Blitz starting the fire too, same for Barbie.

God what a shitty day it is to be a Fizz fan, I’m sorry. The episode did NOT do him justice. Fizzarolli deserved better than that half assed gaslighting apology for someone who lost their arms and legs man, and I’m tired of the show letting every character suck up to Blitz and Stolas for their horrible treatment just because they feel bad. Not only that but the episode (as most recent HB episodes) was a huge time waster. Everyone was really hoping for an in depth walkthrough of his character/backstory but again, when he’s not with Ozzie, the rest/most of his screen time is dedicated to him being helpless and pointlessly arguing with Blitz, plus a long dragged out nonsense song that didn’t need to happen. It felt like SO much time was wasted when we could have used the runtime we have to dive deeper and see more, like….again it would have been nice to see Fizz’s life AFTER the accident and how he became well known as well as how he fell in love with Ozzie, but his backstory is briefly scratched upon in a single scene and that’s it, all because Viv wanted this filler plot and wanted to dedicate more time to THAT rather than actual character expansion/development, something we could have got had you took out Stolas and Ozzie’s B plot and Striker and Crimson.

Viv is so on her way to murder/ruin every character that isn’t Blitz and Stolas and I won’t be here to watch further. I’ll check out the Mammon music video thing but that’s it man, this show is going off the rails, Adding Fizz to the character adoption list!

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #helluva critical #anti vivziepop #helluva boss #fizzaroiii #fizzaroli helluva boss #helluva boss oops #helluva boss review #vivziepop criticism

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cranberryjuice-posts · 30 days

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Okay so like hear me out.

Reader went on a quest years ago when her and Clarisse were still young and they went missing/were pronounced dead. But in reality they got stuck in the Lotus Casino so when Chiron sent some campers to retrieve campers that he already knew were stuck there they found the supposedly “dead” reader playing in the arcade.

Reader goes back to camp and finds Clarisse after all these years and returns like some weapon or smth that Clarisse gave them so they could defend themselves. (Reader obviously aged somehow so theres no weird age gap or smth)

- harness your hopes -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Reader

An - i tried to find a way to write this without a plot hole since in the lotus hotel you don’t age key example nico di-Angelo so I hope this helps some 😭😭

“It’s Vegas”

“No it’s the best place in America. AND! And they have legal gambling” you laughed walking along side clarisse down the streets of Las Vegas.

Being placed on a mission together you both had an older saytr leading. Your main assignment was to locate a demigod that was near by and to help return them to camp safely.

Brushing your hands against clarisses you blushed some, it was just a dumb crush. You were 13 and so was she anything that could between you both was just pointless. Contrasting your thoughts however clarisse slowly reached over taking your hand.

The saytr guide gave you both a teasing face causing clarisse to pull her hand away embarrassed. As the guide chuckled turning back to lead the way you patted your cheeks trying to make the burning feeling go away.

After about an hour you all decided on getting lunch. While just waiting outside with clarisse she tapped your shoulder making you look at her.

“Here.. I saw your dagger got broken in our last fight so have mine” she tried hard to play it off but you could tell she was really just trying to show a form of love.

“Thanks” you happily smiled taking the blade back. Looking down at the blade you could see in the reflection clarisse looking Away embarrassed. Cute

It was weird.

One minute you were running away from a hippalectryon, next you were laying on the ground with a glowing wolf over you? Then you woke up in a casino like hotel.

The following week felt unreal, gambling every once in a while. Finding other demigods and running around with them, meeting some kids who said the Roman gods were real? Weird. Even becoming friends with this small kid named nico who un-ironically liked mythomagic just as much as you.

Being so caught up in the moment you hadn’t realized your body and mind growing. On Monday you were happy to eat a tub of ice cream all day while most people treated you like a kid, on Tuesday you were schooling some little kid on why he shouldn’t cheat in games and the older demigods you had seen before suddenly invited you to hangout with them.

Sitting in the lounging area you saw a familiar set of bright orange shirts paired with some of your friends you had just met. Quickly getting up you jogged over. “Hey! Wait up!” Finally standing before them your happy face turned to confusion. “Chris..?”

The Chris you suddenly Remembered had been 14 and recently shaved his head as he lost a bet now.. he looked older, way more muscular than before and for some reason he seemed more mature.

“Holy shit” he spoke shocked. Almost scared he reached out grabbing your shoulders. “What’s your name” he cautiously spoke.

“Yn Chris when did you get so old” you shoved his hands off of you. You had been gone a week not a lifetime.

“Are You dead?” He asked earning him an unamused look from you. Placing your hands on your hips you gave a heavy sigh. “No I’m not dead why are you asking”

“Because you’ve been dead for three years”

…

What..

—

The ride back to camp was weird. While Travis and Connor drove the truck back to camp you talked with Chris as he updated you and all the campers with you that in-fact everyone was trapped with the lotus eaters.

Though what confused him and everyone else was how you were able to age and mature like a normal person.

Pulling your dagger out from your side you studied it ashamed. So much time passed without you.. your siblings grew up, the camp evolved, it was like you didn’t even belong in this timeline. Shining the celestial bronze blade a sudden memory came back to you.

A girl named clarisse came back to you. A girl named clarisse who you loved, came back to you. With that all the flustered emotions of a young teenager followed suit as well.

Stepping inside to camp a familiar sense of comfort washed over you. Three years later and the damn place still hadn’t changed.

Though the walk though camp was awkward to say the least. All your friends were 16/17 now and there was so many new kids and dead ones that it was honestly a lot.

Eventually you found yourself sitting in the Aphrodite cabin with silena, leaning on her bed laughing like it was old times.

“You know what!” The daughter Aphrodite smiled leaning over the side. “There’s a certain lesbian here who misses you”

“Who” You chuckled slowly remembering everything. Silena looked at you with a knowing look. “Wait clarisse?! No no she doesn’t— we never liked each other like that” you laughed trying to play it off.

“Then I guess it won’t be weird for you to go meet up with her right now”

After a silent back and forth you caved in standing up. “Fine! I’ll go see her but we’re just friends” You warned leaving the cabin.

Jogging into the arena you had to take a moment to appreciate what you saw in-front of you. 5’10 and lean just swinging her spear around with a concentrated look plastered on her face. Even even she was taking her anger out clarisse was still beautiful.

She stuck her spear into the sand and started tying her curly hair back. Placing her hands on her hips she let out a heavy sigh just letting the energy fall away from her body.

Slowly walking towards her you cleared your throat nervous… justtt friends that’s what you were. “Hey..” you managed.

Instantly she looked over stunner and a little embarrassed. Clarisse didn’t move, didnt even speak. She opened her mouth for only a second before just closing it again not sure what to say.

Deciding to take the first step you gently patted your sides. Pulling the dagger from your side you held it out. “I figured I don’t need it anymore so I should return it-“

“Keep it” she quickly spoke. “Sorry.. I’m just, it’s been a long time” a tired breath left her lips causing you to blush slightly.

“Right..“ placing the blade away you looked back up deciding that maybe just standing in silence was the best think to do.

What felt like an eternity soon came to an end when clarisse decided to finally speak up. “Can we.. can we hangout tommorow” she slowly asked.

Nodding your head adamantly you smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

———

“Shut up it did not feel like a week” clarisse laughed walking around the forest with you. For majority if the day you both had just spent time together, almost like a date.

Now with the moon rising you both decided to finish the hangout off with a walk in the woods. “It did” you giggled. “I swear to the gods I was only there for a week”

She just rolled her eyes. “Must of been nice” she mumbled shaking her head. Confused you chuckled back. “What do you mean?”

“Well you didn’t have to spend three years thinking the first girl you ever actually fell in love with was dead and having to find some way to continue yourself that leaving her to bleed out after she protected you from dying wasn’t yourself and was the right thing to do”

You stopped walking and just looked up at clarisse. “You love me”

She looked back at you and just shrugged her shoulders. She was completely different from the dumb childhood crush you had. Slowly you grabbed clarisses arm and took her hand into yours. Looking down you smiled as she was wearing one of your favorite rings.

“I don’t remember a lot. I don’t know how I ended up in the hotel.. but what I do remember is that throughout my long week stay I always remembered a girl who could effortlessly make me laugh and always made my stomach do flips” a small laugh left your mouth. “Out of everything and everyone I always remembered being in love with you clarisse”

Shyly with her free hand she cupped the side of your face. Brining you close to her she muttered. “Can I Kiss you..”

Laughing some you nodded. “Yeah you can kiss me”

Placing her lips onto yours you couldn’t help b it smile happily. It made you feel warm how some way some how clarisse waited for you. Guess it was a good think to since you had no choice but to wait for her too.

Clarisse - FUCK ALL YOU MOTHER FUCKERS I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND SUCK IT

YN - babe 😭

—

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse larue #clarisse my beloved #percy jackson show #pjo fandom #clarisse x female reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you

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motherofplatypus · 10 months

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Miraculous Finale Review: Part 1 (Conformation)

I've been holding this one back for a long time, but at last, with Conformation and Recreation aired, season 5 has finally ended. Its been a journey, watching it from the first episode until now, going high and low, and we finally reached the grand finale.

Who am i kidding?

High and low? Get real. Everything is just going low and low that we met Hades and he asked what were we watching that he met us in his bathroom.

What in the absolute fuck did we just watch? This is just a whole bunch of retcon that makes every single episode for the last 4 seasons redundant, irrelevant, pointless, and stupid. It makes us question if the show is written by a bunch of toddlers who just learned the word "tremendous". Just...dude, you're lucky Disney don't own you, because this show gonna get butchered hard just for the writing skill, let alone the Bustier's kissing scene.

Speaking of Bustier, let's talk about the campaign for mayoral election. So they do have it. I mean, they showed us election in Season 1, but i thought that was the writers making a mistake, like making Chloe having humanity in early seasons. And speaking of Chloe, mind telling us why she becomes the mayor in previous episode? Oooh, that's right, plot convenience.

Second, and i shouldn't be surprised at this point after what happened to Alix and Luka, but holy bolognese they literally take Adrien out of the finale. The main character himself. The character whose name is on the title of the show. The one person who already has the front seat of the whole shenanigans, was written off and out of it. He's completely out out.

Can any of you who have Twitter do me a favor and ask That Guy just what in the absolute butt joke was he thinking for doing this? I know the risk is getting blocked by him, but just imagine getting blocked by a child who somehow got access to the internet.

I mean, that's literally what it is when dealing with That Guy. And I'll let others to make Adrien salt out of it, I have enough salt just from these two episodes.

Then we get to Marinette's dream sequence, where's she's the knight, saving the poor and fragile Princess Adrien. They're not even trying to pretend Adrien isn't a damsel in distress here. She panicked, worried that Adrien is in trouble, and wanted to go to the Agreste Mansion to ask if he's okay.

Hey, remember literally last episode Felix told Marinette Gabe is Monarch? Yeah, neither do the writers.

Anyway, there's the Perfect Alliance thingy, and man was it creepy, in a positive way (surprisingly). The negative way (unsurprisingly) is the inconsistency of it.

Plagg called Alya and did everything to get her attention to no avail because she's basically hypnotized by it, but somehow Mylene could get Rose and Ivan's attention when standing away from them? So can you or can you not get their attention? Go with one or don't go with either of them.

And then the Miraculized. Miraculizer? Whatevs, Walmart Squid Game. Just how did this happen? This is not akumatization, mind you. Akumatization requires the butterfly miraculous to empower a butterfly and send them to someone else. There's no butterfly being sent whatsoever. Unless, of course, another plot convenience that we all oh so familiar with.

And they have multiple miraculous powers. What happened to the whole "One ring, one power" system, huh? Another plot convenience?

More so, they have an innate ability to track down Ladybug and Chat Noir, and boy oh boy, was I smacking my head.

Hey, writers, what happened to the whole "Quantum Mask" rule BS? Thrown out the window seasons ago? Another plot convenience! Who woulda thunk?!

"Oh, but they have the quantum imprint added to them, that's how." Yeah, I ain't buying any of that shit. You have one rule that you make and you can't even stick with it.

And even worse, the whole "Track the heroes but not their civilian identity." Again? Really? How can you bend a rule to one side while bending it to another side? Get a grip, dammit.

Also also, this plan requires Gabe to akumatize himself and give everyone nightmare, which makes them feel negative emotion. Not gonna lie, it's a smart plan coming from someone who thinks turning a baby into a villain multiple times is a good idea, but the fact you never abuse this to get endless supply of akuma victim is beyond stupid. A familiar kind of stupid, but still, it's stupid.

And the ride continues.

Tomoe turned off all the Alliance rings and everyone became frantic because "Ladybug and Chat Noir kidnapped Adrien and Kagami". Like, folks, they're avatars. They're not real. They all know that the ones on the ring is not real. This is not like how Hoaxer did, because in her case, that's her power; to make everyone believe her BS. So unless everyone's brain cells suddenly went off to a vacation here, i ain't buying any of this. But of course, we're digging again.

And then Bugnoire.

Sigh.

Bug-fucking-noire.

While I must admit that the design looks cute and i love the black and green yoyo, it's nowhere near enough to calm me down.

You're saying we were robbed of having Adrien figuring out HM's identity, the angst of seeing him having to fight his own father and learning the condition of his mother, and the long awaited final fight between LB and CN vs HM, just so that Marinette could steal all the spotlights from Adrien and show how amazing she is, how she is "the best miraculous holder to ever exist" once again? Are they serious?

Well, they did make several episodes emphasizing Chloe as satan incarnate, so yeah, they're serious.

Hey, remember the "You and me against the world" line? Yknow, the one that means they're a team, one that's said at least once every season finale? One that gets the fandom crying in tears? Yeah, neither do the writers.

Dude, seriously, wtf is Adrien's purpose? Last season he's got sidelined so much his entire role is irrelevant. Now he's not even in the finale? What is he? A trophy to be won? A "perfect love interest"? Just delete his character altogether, my lord.

If I want a love interest that's being treated this badly, then I'll just have Marinette X Lila at this point, because they might as well just went all out for it and do all side dirty.

I have never seen any show, even the worst one i could think of, that deliberately take their main character out of the finale. Miraculous is surely something.

All in all, 2/10, and the points all go to the animators and VAs, especially the animators because my lord it is indeed looking beautiful. They throw so many things they've established out the window, I don't even know what this finale even stand on.

Aaaand that's all...is something i wish i could say. But no, we have Recreation. The ride to the abyss is not finished yet, and it only get worse. I'll give you some times to recover first because the next one is a whole essay.

So buckle up. Sit back, relax, and I'll see you in part 2.

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fanby-fckry · 2 months

Text

Ignore what I said about queuing this. I wrote the rest of this post when I was in a better headspace; now I’m petty and pissed off, so I dug into my queue and grabbed it.

Do you ever get hate from a stranger on a post and wonder… How did you even find this post??

Still getting used to the idea that fandom antis will apparently purposefully browse the tags of the thing they hate because it seems so genuinely pointless to me, but ok. I’m starting to understand that some people just choose to be angry, I guess.

But what blows my fucking mind is that I got hate on a vent post???

I don’t tag my vent posts with anything but my tags and content warnings. And I tag them #[topic] cw so it’s not like people are finding them in the main tags for that thing.

Reblogs are turned off, so it didn’t get thrown onto their dash by someone they follow that follows me and reblogged it in good faith.

So this person had to:

Choose a thing to be intentionally hateful about.

Choose to search not just for that thing, but instead to search #thing cw.

Find a post made 12 hours ago with 5 notes on it.

Decide, Yup, time to be an asshole!

I try to assume ignorance before malice. I try to assume someone’s having a bad day before I assume they went out of their way to be an asshole.

But I genuinely do not understand how you could accidentally stumble upon an unrebloggable vent post only tagged with cw tags.

How?? Why??? Wtf?? Why do you even care? Do you gain anything from this? Does this make you happy?

Or are you scrolling, seething about how much you hate, hate, hate a certain group of people? Are you clenching your jaw? Is your blood pressure rising? Do you need to take a break and do some breathing exercises?

Fucking go touch grass.

I’m writing this post for the same reason I made my other vent post: because it helps me process. Sometimes, I just need to scream into the void without bugging my partners or taking up time in my therapy sessions. And sometimes, my mutuals comfort and/or commiserate, which is nice.

But I genuinely cannot think of a world in which hate-scrolling an obscure tag would in any way positively impact my life or anyone else’s.

The last time I hate-scrolled, it was through a repost account in an attempt to go find all the original artists that the blog had stollen art from. I found one, and a few other artists had already been tagged, but eventually, I got so angry I couldn’t focus anymore.

So I stopped. I blocked the account. I moved on.

And the only reason I didn’t do that from the start was because it was genuinely helping someone for me to hate-scroll. It helped the artist I contacted. If I had been the first to get to a few other works I recognized, it would’ve helped those artists too.

I also didn’t seek out this blog; one of their stollen posts showed up on my dash and I went, Wow, that’s stollen art! Time to go fuck shit up!

Who does it benefit when you seek out other people’s posts when you know the content is upsetting to you, just to hate on them? What does that accomplish besides marginally increasing the suffering in this already shitty world?

Queueing this rather than posting it so that it won’t be obvious which vent post I’m talking about, but holy fuck this makes me feel things.

#fanby’s ramblings #not fandom #vent cw

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sapphire-weapon · 10 months

Note

Hey, can you tell me a little more about how RE6 was recieved by fans? I know it's generally disliked, but I'm curious as to how original fans actually reacted to the writing. When I played it a few months ago (I got into RE last year), it absolutely threw me. I thought the characterisation and the romances and overall plot were horrendous. I'm even wary of accepting half of it as canon!

First, there's Jake Muller. While I did actually like him, because I thought the whole anti-hero trope was refreshing, his whole superpowered story that was never picked up again was... pretty bad. Chris and his amnesia was tolerable at best. I did actually enjoy his dynamic with Piers (and I shipped the hell out of them I'm ngl, lol) but he felt so ?? off. I can't explain it. I thought how Piers was killed was super cheap and unnecessary too.

Then there's Leon... jesus christ Leon. He was awful in that game. He had such a weird relationship with Helena and an underwhelming reunion with Sherry. Then there's the absolute mess that was his relationship to Ada. It made me physically cringe. "You... have feelings." This man has not seen her in YEARS, with a long history of betrayal. Why in the world is he moping around and getting into physical altercations with Chris Redfield to protect her, ignoring her crimes? I laughed so hard. They made him absolutely absurd and senseless. I can't stand the RE6 version of him, I'm sorry. He was hard to tolerate.

Then... the Ada campaign. Holy Jesus the Ada campaign, with the slime clone!? WHAT WAS THAT!? And apparently she dated the villain or something and he was upset because he was madly in love with her, if I remember correctly? I specifically saved her campaign for last because I was so excited for Ada content, only to be met with the laziest, cardboard cutout 2000's Hollywood tropes. Tripe. But at least I got a good laugh from it.

Am I alone with these opinions? I genuinely thought pretty much everything about it was rubbish, lacking effort and made no sense. They were ALL weirdly out of character and I'd never desire to replay it. Could this be a general consensus? I'd love to hear your experience and what the original reception was like. I know RE6 is generally slated, but that seems for gameplay, rather than the rubbish story!

Most of the criticisms about RE6's story surrounded:

Leon being a "simp" for Ada

Simmons just making absolutely no sense at all and turning into a T-Rex somehow and making the confrontation with him underwhelming and stupid as a result

Sherry's powers being underwhelming and kind of a cop-out for giving her extreme plot armor

Chris's amnesia being completely pointless and stupid, as well as his entire campaign being horribly unfun to play

The Carla Radames storyline being the single dumbest shit in mainline Resident Evil, and that includes the whole Ashford siblings thing involving Alexia being a 7 year old prodigy working alongside Albert goddamn Wesker

There were other criticisms, too, surrounding the enemy and level designs, as well as the game's tendency to just have something blow up when they didn't know how to transition a scene. But. Those ^ were the big things.

The three things that were regularly and almost universally praised about RE6's writing were:

The general atmosphere of Leon and Helena's campaign

Piers Nivans

The pacing and imagery of Ada's campaign

#3 has since been removed from the list, because the whole tone of her campaign got fucked up when they patched in a co-op partner for her.

But, on RE6's release, Ada's campaign was a solo mission, and it was praised as the single best campaign in the game, period. Ada being forced to go through a maze of hallways with images of her own face forming on the walls and a voice yelling "I AM ADA WONG" was genuinely unnerving back when it was just her going it alone. And, back then, her campaign wasn't available from the start, either. You had to beat all three of the other campaigns first to even unlock it.

I, personally, was far less critical of RE6 than most of the wider fandom was -- and that was for a few reasons.

I was able to forgive RE6 for a lot of its stupid bullshit because I loved other parts about it so much more than I hated it, and those beloved parts were:

Giving us better insight on Leon's mental state through the various files found throughout the game

Giving us Leon and Chris's friendship and portraying it as beautifully as they did (I said this before, but I walked away from RE6 thinking "No one on this planet loves Leon Kennedy more than Chris Redfield does")

Giving us Leon as a full-grown adult and a professional (before the whole bullshit with Ada poked its fucking ass into his campaign and ruined the story)

Chris's personality, for the most part. In the flashback sections before his men are killed/he ends up with amnesia, and then later in the game after Leon soothes his giant asshurt about Ada -- those sections are some of the best moments Chris has as a character post-REmake (huge parts of RE5 were not kind to him lmao)

Ada's campaign, for the reasons listed above

Turning Wesker into a pump&dump deadbeat dad (I'm sorry but this is still very funny to me, even today)

Actually returning Sherry to the storyline and keeping her kind-hearted and good-natured instead of dead inside like she very well could have been (also RE6 is the only title in the entire series that actually calls attention to Leon's paternal love for Sherry, even a little bit)

Piers Nivans. Just... in general. Piers is still the best-written, most charismatic single-title character that Resident Evil has ever produced, and yes I'm including Remake Luis and Remake Ashley in that. I love him unconditionally, and I'm so upset that he's dead.

The Rasklapanje monsters being objectively scarier than Regenerators, somehow

... Even though you can put their limbs in the microwave and shit, which is actually hilarious and I love it

The combat system just in general. People shit on RE6's combat only because they don't understand it. If you try to just stand and shoot things like RE4 and RE5, you're gonna run out of ammo and you're gonna have a bad time. RE6 is a hybrid shooter/brawler that encourages a very aggressive playstyle. Once you figure that out, this game becomes HELLA fun.

I think RE6 has the potential to be great in the Remake series, because there is a lot of good stuff there. It's just buried under the much more obvious, glaring, REALLY BAD SHIT that's there, too.

#resident evil 6

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compassionatereminders · 1 year

Note

I'm just very confused right now and. i don't know why I'm even writing this down. i guess i want reassurance through this existential/identity crisis of mine. i want someone to listen. idk anymore.

I recently found out that i've been lying a lot but only by accident, like. I'm going to have to explain my mental process with colors and I'm hoping it makes sense.

My memories kind of have "sets" and with those sets comes the slight "personality shifts". Those shifts are kind of like, color gradients??? Like it doesn't happen all of a sudden, not like one moment I'm red then I'm blue, it's more like. i wake up red, then throughout the day red just ever so slowly fades into orange then yellow then i sleep and wake up I'm between green and blue. And it just goes on and on and on and on.

So I have different colors. Each main color (primaries and secondaries) has their own set of memories. But it is kinda a fixed cycle, i just don't know all the colors in there, so they have a semipermanent fixed position in the gradient but also there's multiple gradients and I'm basically colorblind in this analogy. Each color can access the sets of the ones beside them, ergo orange can access red and yellows sets etc. But the details are kinda muddled. The specifics aren't really there, a lot of the details aren't clear etc.

But since they have different sets of memories that means I'm always functioning with minimum knowledge about my self and my life. And sometimes those memories are outdated.

Like i told my classmates i do the bare minimum of conversations with my family since that's always been the case since I was a child, it's not going to change is it? it fucking did. We talk now, that's a thing that actually happens. Like it's meaningless pointless small talk but it's talk.

I'm not really averse to lying but holy shit how many times have I done it without knowing. How many people have figured I'm lying right to their faces when i didn't ever know I'm lying. what the fuck.

like, I'm not a fucking monster for this am i??? i feel like I'm just making excuses. idk. im just 16 why is my life so needlessly complicated :/

(also ps I've sent an ask about wanting to drop out of high school bc of mental health issues but my mother wouldn't let me and i just remembered it after typing that last bit. gradient shift in action lmao i feel so hyper mentally)

I hope your days get better <3 (also hope this isn't a bother lol this feels more like talking at you than to you)

It is not a lie if you are not aware it isn't true while you're saying it. It might be misinformation - even harmful misinformation - but it's not lying. And it's not morally wrong in the way deliberately lying to people is in most cases. You are not a monster in any sense. You may have serious issues with your memories and your interpretation of them, but that's not a moral failure, it's a mental health issue or a cognitive problem at worst

#chat with kat

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cecelianonymous22 · 2 years

Text

fuck it. help desk otp prompts

I accidentally downloaded malware can you please fix it no I wasn't trying to pirate something what do you mean

You're really cute but you asked if I was hacking your computer when I opened task manager and now I don't know what to think

BRO WHY DO YOU HAVE 50 TABS OPEN CLOSE THEM PLEASE

My friend gave me your desk's number and I thought it was one of those sex hotlines. It was not.

You came in while I was working by myself and blasting the most disturbing/obnoxious music and I didn't realize you were watching me jam out

I really need to get my computer fixed but I cannot stand your coworker playing Banana Phone on loop

You want me to fix your tablet but instead of money, you offer to pay with an art commission? That's weird as shit, I don't think HOLY SHIT WAIT NVM YOU'RE ACTUALLY REALLY GOOD

You're fixing my computer and I'm rambling about all the best emulators to play Pokemon because you haven't told me to stop talking

You're hot and I wanna look smart to you when you come in with something to fix, but I have no idea how the fuck to fix it. I don't want to ask my coworkers for help because I want to impress you

You guys have a shitload of snacks and I haven't had breakfast this morning, can I please get a bag of chips or something while you fix my laptop?

DUDE GET YOUR DOG OUT OF THE HELP DESK?? THATS NOT EVEN A SERVICE DOG????

You're a real jock type and you called me for help with your laptop, I've explained everything like five times just listen to the fucking words that come out of my mouth

We're coworkers and we start arguing over PC setups/movies/video games

My boss is an asshole and I don't know you but you seem cool and I'm tired--wanna ditch this place and go grab some coffee?

I'm working on your laptop but you keep doing funny shit at the security camera and I'm trying not to laugh

You walk into the help desk in the middle of a heated (and pointless) argument with me and my coworkers

You ask me why I have a camera cover on my laptop but you look like the kinda guy to be an asshole if I told you I was just paranoid, so i just lie to you

You work on software and I work on hardware. You always give me computers to fix with little sticky notes on them and lately, I've noticed you've been writing these little messages on the backs of them

WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO YOUR PHONE??? HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE??

Your mom took your phone from you while I was on the line and she is such a fucking Karen, I'm praying that she gives you your phone back because she doesn't know shit about technology and your voice is so much nicer than hers

You and me are the tag-team coworkers that give each other looks whenever someone asks dumb questions about their tech

#writing prompts #otp prompts #help desk

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foxstens · 3 months

Text

been playing slow damage and must rant (spoilers)

so far i have finished two routes, namely rei and taku, in that order.

the game is seriously impressive in some parts, like the setting and the production values and some of the character writing - it really feels like a lot of love was put into it. and honestly, it has some of the best written h-scenes i've seen, at least outside of the bad endings. but boy does it fumble hard, in my opinion

first of all, the system fucking sucks. the exploration and psychology parts are mostly unvoiced and they really just serve as a distraction, at least to me. the psychology parts especially are so annoying, and literally all of them so far have felt completely pointless - they don't do anything that couldn't be resolved in normal dialogue dgjlksgfkfd

i mostly loved rei's route, i found it interesting and engaging and well-executed. loved the overall premise, the side characters, the romance, and rei himself. i didn't love that he changed his way of speaking towards the end but that's more of a personal preference thing, it was explained and it did make sense for his character.

his bad ending however. i don't get disturbed easily, like there's very little i can't read with a straight face in fiction, but this bad ending was fucking horrifying. it threw the crux of his character and his relationship with towa out the window and made no sense considering the route as a whole. like, yea, bad endings are supposed to be bad but i still like them to be well-written or something. i can't really put into words why i thought it was genuinely terrible but i just did not like it.

taku's route was kind of pointless. i did pay attention the entire time but just barely, and i didn't have a great time. i just don't feel like i learned a lot from this route, i don't feel like it contributes to the overall story, and i definitely don't feel like i have a handle on taku's personality or thoughts even now.

i do not understand him as a person therefore i do not know if i like him. the romance buildup is non-existent and it also doesn't do a lot for towa's character - most of the stuff that happens to him really has no reason to be in there and due to the romance being like that i didn't feel much development from him. it kind of makes an effort to set you up for the next routes probably, but the side characters were nowhere near as strong as the ones in rei's route

taku's bad ending is also strangely similar to rei's and i hate it. since i don't have a firm handle on taku's personality i can't say if it was OOC but holy shit was it horrifying. i just feel like the bad endings should be more interesting and thought-provoking and believable rather than just shock value. but that's just my opinion

but yea it's definitely a good game, i am having a good time and i'm very interested in the next routes - i hope i'll get to see good things happening to towa one day maybe :(

0 notes

beaversatemygrandma · 1 year

Text

WHERE THE FUCK DID FEBRUARY GO? WASN'T THERE SUPPOSED TO BE A WHOLE MONTH HERE? Shit's coming up fast, oh god.

So, i have an appointment for my driver's test in March, and essentially through this entire month i was like "finish the log. finish it. write things in. do it." I got to 37 hours of 60. Oi. And then the fact that i literally CANNOT drive at night in this area. Between the light pollution of the city, those HUGE LED billboards that light up half the highway, and those new cars with retina burning headlights, I've literally struggled to keep my eyes adjusted to the night and nearly missed a fucking stoplight. I need 10 night hours. I have done 1 and realized it was pointless. I think i can back home though. Smaller town. Less light pollution. I mean, i know I've actually driven the right amount by now, but i haven't been writing that shit down. Even my dad was like "you're ready, just fuck the log" and i was like "okay, cool" I need to grab another page (WHY DOES IT HAVE SO FEW SPACES FOR 60 HOURS???) and draw out the things and fill it in and then get my grandma and my dad's IDs and fill in ALL THE ID NUMBERS, get them to sign EVERY Single ONE. Hnngg. Then reminding my dad to take that day off to take me there. Like i've told him, but this is the man i definitely got my adhd from. Likely forgot by now. It's been like 3 months since i made the appointment (earliest one too. tf.)

And then the whole anxiety of all the plans I've made. Like, after getting my license i was going to prepare myself to move back to FL to be with my mom and around all my friends and such.

Like. I'm basically long distance dating this guy by now. We literally have plans set, just without date. Because I could either be there in April or i could be there mid summer or later, which is infuriating. Ntm the fact that my money is VERY Quickly dwindling. Like, it'll cost a couple hundred just in gas to get there. I'm already down to less than my car insurance payment that will go through in June. I was hoping I could get down there, get that job, etc etc, THEN pay it off. Because here, I'd be working in a place for like a month and then ditching. That's not ideal. So, I'm hoping my dad will help me pay for things in that aspect because holy fuck. I also really need to change my bank because after it got bought out, the new company was like "K. If you have less than $500 average in your checking you pay $8 a month for use." Like WHAT THE FUCK?? And THEN that fucking FYE VIP Charge that I DID NOT sign up for taking another $12 a month. I literally went through their customer service, they couldn't find my info, yet I'm Being Charged for something i DIDNT SIGN UP FOR. And well, a bank/card change would get rid of BOTH shitty little predatory charges here.

I've literally been going between those online banking services checking to see what's the best, because this bank charges me, cut my interest on my savings down like 95%, and is just inconvenient all together. Like, my dad has one, if i sign up with his code we both get $50, THEN the long distance guy has another where you get $100 if you get the banking thing AND a credit card with them for both parties. And I'm just here like "Oh god. Choices."

And then this guy. So, yeah, it has escalated a bit. He's the sweetest damn thing but every night it just somehow turns into, "I can't wait for us to finally be together" and me just thinking like "fuck if this doesn't work out right...." Like it has turned from me saying "why tf am i feeling things for that weird guy from high school? Bet I'm just lonely" to being like "Yep. I've definitely fallen for him." He's sweet, he's passionate, he's safe, and he's just great. He definitely cares a lot. There's something about the way he's outright trying to make sure I'm in a good place mentally and getting what i need to done and just being encouraging and a great company. Like yeah, half the motivation for getting things done lately is just making sure i can make it down there to stop this from being long distance. There's somebody down there who genuinely wants to be that person to just exist at home with and go on adventures about town with. Just somebody to have around for literally anything. Like. I CAME OUT TO HIM. He didn't even dodge the topic like my last ex did. It wasn't this awkward thing, it was just "as long as this makes you happy" and just jeez <3

then the worry about being with my mom again because FL rent is a waking nightmare. Like yeah, I'm going to get shit about my weight a lot and still have to pay HER rent, but i mean, it's better than being in this hellscape that is a metropolis and nearby people i like and trust. and not the constant hostility between people out here. I've come to the conclusion that people in cities are just awful and so stuck in their lives of nothing but work and the hell that is this place with no escape which has made them into what they are now. At no fault of their own, but they're all selfish assholes. Like everybody is struggling and packed in like sardines. Of course we're all on edge. But FUCK, be NICE to others for the love of god. We're all in the same cement hell.

I want peace, and peace is a place i know well. I want to be back home already and not panicking about all this shit and slowly going broke due to predatory capitalism. I want to be with that guy. I want to have my friends just ten minutes away. I want to be back in this familiar town i know like the back of my hand instead of this cement labyrinth of highways and skyscrapers. I'll settle for my old Panera job for a while. I just want something familiar that isn't this. I want peace again and a place that's loud and hostile isn't peace.

#taks speaks #screaming into the void

0 notes

sunder-soul · 3 years

Note

1- Love your writing it’s *chefs kiss*

2- Can you write about how Tom is trying to get the attention of Hufflepuff reader by actually being nice like buying them flowers,telling them they look nice, always offering to help them. But he does it in a grouchy way and at the end it’s just fluffy. 👉🏽👈🏽

Holy shit this is just the most. Yes. Yes yes yes.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

An Easy Mistake

Summary: Tom keeps trying to be nice to Hufflepuff Reader, but somehow it always seems to go wrong...

Wordcount: 1.6k

Content warning: none

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Is that Riddle?” Sebastian asks in sceptical disbelief.

Your whole group look around at once to see that yes, indeed it is Riddle coming towards you where you’re set up at a large table in the corner of the library, chatting more than you’re studying.

“What in Merlin’s name does he want?” Cecil mutters, shaking his head incredulously, the golden frames of his glasses gleaming against his dark skin.

“Maybe he’s going to tell us off for talking in the library,” Ethel giggles, blushing nearly as red as her hair as she glances Riddle’s way again.

“He’s quite pretty, isn’t he,” you say under your breath, giving Sebastian a cheeky look, “shame his face is hidden by a book half the time –”

“ – and kissing Slughorn’s arse the rest of it,” Seb interjects.

You both descend into giggles and Cecil pointedly thumps your shoulder right as Riddle arrives before you.

“Hello,” you say loudly, ignoring Cecil completely as you grin widely at Riddle.

Riddle blinks once at the odd display, looking supremely unimpressed. “Hello,” he says smoothly as he stands tidily beside your table.

Sebastian kicks you under the table and you kick him back so hard that he chokes on a laugh. Riddle shoots him a sharp look and Seb attempts to school his expression into something composed (with very modest success) as you continue to grin blandly at Riddle.

“Might I have a word?” Riddle says coolly, his gaze swivelling back to you. He looks like he’s already regretting approaching you.

The other three immediately duck their head to hide their snickers as you gawp at Riddle, utterly bemused. “I suppose...” you say as you slowly stand.

He nods and walks off down a nearby aisle. You follow, giving your friends a baffled look over your shoulder – they shrug back theatrically, and then you turn the corner to find Riddle pulling something out of his bag.

“Here,” he says smoothly, handing out a small stack of parchments.

You take them automatically, scanning the first one. “Notes? On Delphi’s Brew?” you ask slowly, raising a questioning brow as you glance up at him.

“Yes,” Riddle says, sliding the clasp of his bag back into a place with a sharp click, “my notes. I heard that you’re attending Slughorn this weekend whilst he makes it.”

You stare at him a moment, unable to fathom how he knew about your extra credit assignment. “And… and why exactly are you giving me these…?” you ask, confused.

“To make sure that you do so correctly,” he says curtly, looking irritated.

You narrow your eyes and hold his notes back out to him. “Thanks,” you say coolly, “but I think I’ll manage.”

Riddle stares at you blankly. You hold them out a bit more and raise your brows. Something hard falls across Riddle’s face and he snatches them back. “Is there a particular reason you’re refusing my guidance?” he snaps.

“Very bold of you to assume I need guidance, Riddle,” you say sharply. “Is this because I’m a Hufflepuff?”

“No, it’s because Delphi’s Brew is an incredibly complex potion that only the most proficient Potioneers attempt,” Riddle says, just as sharp.

“Is that so?” you say, crossing your arms, “And why exactly did you assume that I’d need extra assistance rather than just raising your estimation of my Potions skills?”

“I was trying to help,” Riddle hisses.

“Perhaps you should offer Slughorn your notes then,” you say loudly, “considering I’m the one making it and Slughorn’s attending me.”

You wheel around and stalk back to your friends, sitting down angrily.

“What did he want?” Ethel asks quickly.

“To condescendingly insult my intelligence,” you grumble, returning to your work. “Merlin, some of those Slytherin boys really think they’re a cut above the rest of us, don’t they?”

“Ignore him,” Sebastian declares loudly.

“Shame he’s so pretty if he’s rude,” Cecil says casually. “What a waste.”

“You don’t have to talk to him,” Seb smirks. “You can just admire him from afar, like Ethel.”

“He’s much better from afar than up close,” you mutter.

“Like a Monet painting,” Ethel sighs dreamily.

“Or a Flesh-Eating Slug,” Cecil deadpans.

You all descends into giggles again.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“You’re joking,” you say disbelievingly.

A bouquet of flowers has just appeared in front of your breakfast plate, a huge bouquet of flowers. The garish, impractically large blooms are packed together and tied with a lavish green velvet ribbon, all wrapped in what looks like silk – it even has a few fairies clinging to the stems. It would have cost a fortune.

“Who sent that?” Seb laughs, picking them up. “Merlin’s beard, it’s hideous –”

“Is someone trying to buy your affection?” Ethel giggles.

You eye the bouquet disapprovingly. “I sure hope not, they must not know me at all.”

“This is hilarious,” Cecil says dryly, taking the bouquet from Sebastian and running his fingers across the ribbon. “To think, they could literally walk outside, pick a single weed and hand it to you, and you’d like it more than this.”

“That’s because that would take effort and time,” you say exasperatedly, “this is just...”

“Showing off?” Sebastian smirks. “Bet it’s from a pureblood whose whole personality is their family name…”

“Can I have the ribbon?” Ethel asks quickly, leaning forward. “It’ll look nice in my hair.”

By the end of breakfast you’ve given nearly everyone at the Hufflepuff table a flower from the horribly exorbitant bouquet – though the fairies linger around your head for a few hours before floating off out the door during Herbology.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

That Saturday, you step into the Potions classroom for your advanced assignment and just about turn around and leave again – Riddle is sitting at Slughorn’s desk, his eyes flashing to yours when you enter.

There’s a tense silence.

“Riddle,” you say evenly, stepping forward and letting the door shut behind you, “how… unexpected.”

“Slughorn was called away on business,” he says, calmly shutting the book he’d been reading and setting it on the desk. “I offered to attend you instead.”

“How generous of you,” you mutter, dropping your bag by the desk and collecting your cauldron from the cupboard before returning to set up.

“You look…”

You slowly look up, barely able to believe the words you’ve just heard come out of Riddle’s mouth. He’s looking at you with a supremely frustrated expression on his face, his eyes fixed heatedly on yours. “Yes?” you prompt disbelievingly.

“Different,” he finishes flatly.

You arch a brow. “I’m not in my uniform, Riddle, could that possibly be the difference?”

“No,” he snaps, “I meant…” he waves at you, his lips a tight line. “You look nice.”

You round on him fully. “And that’s a notable difference, is it?”

“Have I offended you somehow?” Riddle snaps, leaning back in his seat. “It seems that no matter what I do, you’re displeased.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I offer to help you with this potion and you act as if I’ve snapped your wand in half,” he says angrily, “I give you flowers and you pull them apart and give them away –”

“That was you?” you ask, dumbfounded.

Riddle’s eyes flash and he stands swiftly. “This is pointless,” he breathes, seizing his book off the desk. “I’m leaving. I trust you can handle this by yourself.”

He strides away and you watch him go in shock. The door slams a little too hard behind him.

You look back at the cauldron on the desk, your mind picking over your last few interactions with Riddle – and a horrible realisation dawns on you.

“Oh my god,” you whisper to your cauldron, mortified. “He was trying to be nice.”

Your head whips around and you dash across the room as fast as you can, wrenching the door open and skidding into the corridor as you frantically look around. You only just see a sliver of him disappearing around the corner and you sprint after him full speed.

You round the corner precariously, heart lurching at the sight of him about half-way down the corridor in front of you –

“Tom!” you shout, hurrying forward.

He stops at once, and slowly turns back to you as you slide to a halt in front of him, panting. “You – you were trying to be nice,” you gasp, leaning your hands on your knees.

Tom arches a brow. “Yes,” he says caustically.

“I didn’t realise,” you say, squinting up at him. “I thought you were being a condescending prick – you may want to examine why that was an easy mistake to make –”

Tom’s jaw tenses and he looks away. “Did you want something?” he asks through clenched teeth.

“Go to Hogsmeade with me,” you blurt out.

Tom’s eyes flash to yours, his tension melting into surprise at once. “What?”

“Hogsmeade. Go with me,” you repeat, standing up. “On a date.”

He stares at you. To your equally strong surprise and delight, you can see the faintest pink on his cheeks. “Alright,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” you say breathlessly, before giving him a cheeky smile, “just – no more ridiculously expensive bouquets, alright? Not really my style.”

He nods wordlessly, still staring at you.

You look back down the corridor behind you. “Listen,” you say slowly, turning back to him, “I… could use a hand with this potion… if you still want to.”

Tom blinks, and there’s a long moment before he replies. “I did bring my notes,” he says smoothly, a very small smirk building on his lips as he turns fully towards you. “In case you changed your mind.”

You snort. “I’m sure you did,” you say wryly, shaking your head.

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fluff #fluff #anon #prompt #minific #FIL #An easy mistake #hufflepuff reader #soft tom #gn reader

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shkspr · 3 years

Note

hi. on your post where you may or may not have ended on 'moffat is either your angel or your devil' did you have maybe an elaboration on that somewhere that i could possibly hear about. i'm very much a capaldi era stan and i've never tried to defend the matt smith era even though it had delightful moments sometimes so i wonder where that puts me. i'd love to hear your perspective on moffat as a person with your political perspective. -nicole

hi ok sorry i took so long to respond to this but i dont think you know how LOADED this question is for me but i am so happy to elaborate on that for you. first a few grains of salt to flavor your understanding of the whole situation: a. im unfairly biased against moffat bc im a davies stan and a tennant stan; b. i still very much enjoy and appreciate moffat era who for many reasons; and c. i hate moffat on a personal level far more than i could ever hate his work.

the thing is that its all always gonna be a bit mixed up bc i have to say a bunch of seemingly contradictory things in a row. for instance, a few moffat episodes are some of my absolute favorites of the rtd era, AND the show went way downhill when moffat took over, AND the really good episodes he wrote during the rtd era contained the seeds of his destruction.

like i made that post about the empty child/the doctor dances and it holds true for blink and thats about it bc the girl in the fireplace and silence in the library/forest of the dead are good but not nearly on the same level, and despite the fact that i like them at least nominally, they are also great examples of everything i hate about moffat and how he approached dw as a whole.

basically. doctor who is about people. there are many things about moffats tenure as showrunner that i think are a step up from rtd era who! actual gay people, for one! but i think that can likely be attributed mostly to an evolving Society as opposed to something inherent to him and his work, seeing as rtd is literally gay, and the existence of queer characters in moffats work doesnt mean the existence of good queer characters (ill give him bill but thats it!)

i have a few Primary Grievances with moffat and how he ran dw. all of them are things that got better with capaldi, but didnt go away. they are as follows:

moffat projects his own god complex onto the doctor

rtd era who had a doctor with a god complex. you cant ever be the doctor and not have a god complex. the problem with moffats era specifically is that the god complex was constant and unrepentant and was seen as a fundamental personality trait of the doctor rather than a demon he has to fight. he has the Momence where you feel bad for him, the Momence where he shows his humility or whatever and youre reminded that he doesnt want to be the lonely god, but those are just. moments. in a story where the doctor thinks hes the main character. rtd era doctor was aware that he wasnt the main character. he had to be an authority sometimes and he had to be the loner and he had to be sad about it, but he ultimately understood that he was expendable in a narrative sense.

this is how you get lines like “were the thin fat gay married anglican marines, why would we need names as well?” from the same show that gave you the gut punch moment at the end of midnight when they realize that nobody asked the hostess for her name. and on the one hand, thats a small sticking point, but on the other hand, its just one small example of the simple disregard that moffat has for humanity.

incidentally, this is a huge part of why sherlock sucked so bad: moffats main characters are special bc theyre so much bigger and better than all the normal people, and thats his downfall as a showrunner. he thinks that his audience wants fucking sheldon cooper when what they want is people.

like, ok. think of how many fantastic rtd era eps are based in the scenario “what if the doctor wasnt there? what if he was just out of commission for a bit?” and how those eps are the heart of the show!! bc theyre about people being people!! the thing is that all of the rtd era companions would have died for the doctor but he understood and the story understood that it wasnt about him.

this is like. nine sending rose home to save her life and sacrifice his own vs clara literally metaphysically entwining her existence w the doctor. ten also sending rose with her family to save her life vs river being raised from infancy to be obsessed w the doctor and then falling in love w him. martha leaving bc she values herself enough to make that decision vs amy being treated like a piece of meat.

and this is simultaneously a great callback to when i said that moffats episodes during the rtd era sometimes had the same problems as his show running (bc girl in the fireplace reeks of this), and a great segue into the next grievance.

moffat hates women

he hates women so fucking much. g-d, does steven moffat ever hate women. holy shit, he hates women. especially normal human women who prioritize their normal human lives on an equal or higher level than the doctor. moffat hated rose bc she wasnt special by his standards. the empty child/the doctor dances is the nicest he ever treated her, and she really didnt do much in those eps beyond a fuck ton of flirting.

girl in the fireplace is another shining example of this. youve got rose (who once again has another man to keep her busy, bc moffat doesnt think shes good enough for the doctor) sidelined for no reason only to be saved by the doctor at the last second or whatever. and then youve got reinette, who is pretty and powerful and special!

its just. moffat thinks that the doctor is as shallow and selfish as he is. thats why he thinks the doctor would stay in one place with reinette and not with rose. bc moffat is shallow and sees himself in the doctor and doesnt think he should have to settle for someone boring and normal.

not to mention rose met the doctor as an adult and chose to stay with him whereas reinette is. hm. introduced to the doctor as a child and grows up obsessed with him.

does that sound familiar? it should! bc it is also true of amy and river. and all of them are treated as viable romantic pairings. bc the only women who deserve the doctor are the ones whose entire existence revolves around him. which includes clara as well.

genuinely i think that at least on some level, not even necessarily consciously, that bill was a lesbian in part bc capaldi was too old to appeal to mainstream shippers. like twelve/clara is still a thing but not as universally appealing as eleven/clara but i am just spitballing. but i think they weighed the pros and cons of appealing to the woke crowd over the het shippers and found that gay companion was more profitable. anyway the point is to segue into the next point, which is that moffat hates permanent consequences.

moffat hates permanent consequences

steven moffat does not know how to kill a character. honestly it feels like hes doing it on purpose after a certain point, like he knows he has this habit and hes trying to riff on it to meme his own shit, but it doesnt work. it isnt funny and it isnt harmless, its bad writing.

the end of the doctor dances is so poignant and so meaningful and so fucking good bc its just this once! everybody lives, just this once! and then he does p much the same thing in forest of the dead - this one i could forgive, bc i do think that preserving those peoples consciousnesses did something for the doctor as a character, it wasnt completely meaningless. but everything after that kinda was.

rory died so many times its like. get a hobby lol. amy died at least once iirc but it was all a dream or something. clara died and was erased from the doctors memory. river was in prison and also died. bill? died. all of them sugarcoated or undone or ignored by the narrative to the point of having effectively no impact on the story. the point of a major character death is that its supposed to have a point. and you could argue that a piece of art could be making a point with a pointless death, ie. to put perspective on it and remind you that bad shit just happens, but with moffat the underlying message is always “i can do whatever i want, nothing is permanent or has lasting impact ever.”

basically, with moffat, tragedy exists to be undone. and this was a really brilliant, really wonderful thing in the doctor dances specifically bc it was the doctor clearly having seen his fair share of tragedy that couldnt be helped, now looking on his One Win with pride and delight bc he doesnt get wins like this! and then moffat proceeded to give him the same win over and over and over and over. nobody is ever dead. nobody is ever unable to be saved. and if they are, really truly dead and/or gone, then thats okay bc moffat has decided that [insert mitigating factor here]*

*the mitigating factor is usually some sort of computerized database of souls.

i can hear the moffat stans falling over themselves to remind me that amy and rory definitely died, and they did - after a long and happy life together, they died of old age. i dont consider that a character death any more than any other character choosing to permanently leave the tardis.

and its not just character deaths either, its like, everything. the destruction of gallifrey? never mind lol! character development? scrapped! the same episode four times? lets give it a fifth try and hope nobody notices. bc he doesnt know how to not make the doctor either an omnipotent savior or a self-pitying failure.

it is in nature of doctor who, i believe, for the doctor to win most of the time. like, it wouldnt be a very good show if he didnt win most of the time. but it also wouldnt be a very good show if he won all of the time. my point is that moffats doctor wins too often, and when he doesnt win, it feels empty and hollow rather than genuinely humbling, and you know hes not gonna grow from it pretty much at all.

so like. again, i like all of doctor who i enjoy all of it very much. i just think that steven moffat is a bad show runner and a decent writer at times. and it is frustrating. and im not here to convince or convert anyone im just living my truth. thank you for listening.

#sorry if this is repetitive or makes no sense or if i got some details of the show wrong #i simply couldnt be bothered to put too much effort into this post #lest it become a research paper and take me several weeks to answer #anyway thats all my opinions #dw #ok to rb

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bi-bard · 3 years

Text

Better Than Anyone Else - Castiel Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Better Than Anyone Else

Pairing: Castiel X Reader

Requested: by @zizzlekwum

Word Count: 1,306 words

Warning(s): cussing, kidnapping, insults, Dean can't really keep his mouth shut

Summary: (Season 5) (Y/n) and Castiel are taken hostage by angels in the hopes of getting information on how the Winchesters plan on stopping the apocalypse. (Y/n) finally reaches their boiling point with the angels that try to make Cas feel like shit.

Author's Note: I swear, Cas is one of my favorite characters to write for.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

-------------------------------------

I was seething.

I watched as the angels strutted around Cas and me. We were tied across from each other. Cas with some weird kind of chain and me with just rope.

They just kept poking at him.

Mocking him for his humanity. His caring nature.

It pissed me off.

"Isn't it pathetic," one of them asked. "Knowing that your choice to help the humans is pointless? You trusted them... cared about them... all for it to go to waste. They don't care about you, you're just a tool to them."

"Leave him alone," I snapped, tugging at the ropes harshly. I didn't even wince at the feeling of the material burning my skin.

"Shut up, you gnat," the 'head angel' of the group said. "You are one of the biggest reasons Castiel forgot his purpose."

"He didn't forget his purpose," I hissed. "He found it."

She held her blade to my neck, grabbing my hair so I couldn't wiggle away.

"He's one of the most caring creatures I've ever met," I continued, ignoring my fear. "He's a hero. Not just to me but to so many others. You are just trying to make him hate all he's done so he can be guilt-tripped into helping you. If you were worth helping, you wouldn't have to do that."

The angel nearly growled at me before stepping away.

I started combatting words with words.

"You mean nothing to them" was met with my response of "You're amazing and I'm honored to even know you."

"If you didn't have powers, they'd drop you like dead weight," was met with, "Don't listen to them. The boys and I think you're brilliant. You're amazing... a hero."

"They obviously don't need you... they would've saved you by now," was met with, "Sam and Dean will be here soon, they just can't teleport."

This continued until the doors were slammed open. I smiled to myself. Sam and Dean stormed in and started fighting. Sam quickly cut the ropes from my wrist and ankles and grabbed the blade the had rolled from one of the angels.

"One second," I said to Cas quickly, going after the main angel.

I sunk the blade into her stomach, ripping a key from around her vessel's neck.

"Didn't know angels used such basic locks on shit," I muttered, undoing the lock. Cas stood up instantly, moving me out of the way so he could smite an angel that was behind me.

The action died down and we all looked around to check on each other.

"All of us alright," Dean asked. I nodded. "Let's go, Bobby's waiting for us."

We went to walk out but Cas called my name. I turned back to him. He gently grabbed my hands. I blushed as I watched how careful he was as he healed the rope burns.

"Thank you," I mumbled, looking up at him.

I noticed how close we were. I took a deep breath in before turning around and following Sam and Dean. Cas teleported out.

"How are you feeling," Sam asked as Dean started driving.

"I've been better," I muttered. "They just kept insulting him. Like they knew it would hurt more than hitting him."

"What did you do," Sam asked.

"Defended him," I replied. "He deserved that. Even after they held a blade to my throat, I just wanted him to know that we cared."

There was a moment of silence.

"(Y/n)," Dean said carefully. "Do you promise not to hit me after I ask my next question?"

"I can't promise something like that, I've heard some dumb questions come out of your mouth," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Do you... love Cas," he asked.

My breath stopped in my throat for a moment.

I looked down. Was love the right word? Was that too far? I definitely liked him. He was sweet and brave but... love? He'd be uncomfortable if I said love. I sighed... maybe I did love him.

"I don't know if 'love' is too far or not," I finally admitted.

"Holy shit," Dean sounded so excited. I chuckled. "I fricking knew it! Sam, you owe me twenty bucks!"

"You bet on me?"

"...No," Dean suddenly turned guilty when he realized that I was unhappy with his choice.

"Sam."

"It was Dean's idea," he said, throwing his brother under the bus immediately. I looked at Dean.

"(Y/n)... listen..."

--time skip--

I was looking through Bobby's basement for him. He was working on some project and just needed me to help him grab some things. I was happy too. Working with Bobby was not as scary as some would assume.

I was heading back up the stairs when I heard Cas and Dean in the kitchen.

"I just want to know why (Y/n) defended me so adamantly," I froze, realizing neither one had noticed me.

"I can't tell you that, Cas, you need to ask them," he replied.

"You know and won't tell me," Cas said it as a statement, not a question.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I can't."

"Dean, I don't understand-"

"I'm sorry, Cas, but this is (Y/n)'s business."

I guess I didn't know how long they had been going around in a circle. Still, what happened next made me want to throw what I was holding at Dean's head.

"Is there something wrong with (Y/n)? Are you worried about them? What do I not know-"

"Guys," I heard Sam try to intervene.

"(Y/n) loves you, Cas," Dean finally snapped. "There! You know why now!"

My heart just sank, "How fucking dare you?"

Dean looked at me with a panicked look.

"(Y/n)-"

I held up a hand. I walked to the living, placed what Bobby asked for on the table, and then walked out of the house.

"Where are you going," Sam asked, going to stop me.

"On a walk," I snapped, slamming the front door shut behind me.

I don't even know how far into Bobby's yard I had walked. I just kept going. I was angry and stressed and embarrassed. I was ready to fight Dean and leave him tied up in the trunk of his own car.

"(Y/n)," I heard the deep voice from behind me. I ignored it. "(Y/n)."

"Cas, I really don't wanna-"

I ended up walking straight into his chest. I took a step back and looked up at his face.

"Cas... we can just forget that," I motioned toward the house. "We don't have to worry about it."

"No."

"No?"

"I don't want to forget about it," he muttered. "It made me very happy when I heard you loved me."

"Oh," I mumbled.

"I... I love you too," he had a small grin on his face, seeming nervous. Angel of the Lord... nervous.

"You do?"

"Yes," Cas nodded.

"Oh," I mumbled again.

He stepped closer to me. I felt my entire base heat up at the motion. Being this close to Cas... or anyone really... was kind of new to me. I watched him closely and saw him furrow his eyebrows.

"This is where I'm supposed to kiss you, right," he asked softly.

"If you want to."

"I want to," he replied. I smiled widely at him.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his lightly. I grabbed the lapels of his jacket. It felt like I was going to lose him if I did. He slowly reached out to touch my sides as he relaxed into the kiss. It was a perfect moment.

I slowly pulled away, trying to hold back a laugh as he tried to lean forward and kiss me again.

"I love you," I whispered, my forehead touching him.

"I love you too," he mumbled back. "And I'd like to kiss you again."

"Be my guest," I chuckled, pulling him back into a kiss.

What a perfect moment?

-------------------------------------

Masterlist

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Request Guidelines

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folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

#supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #castiel x reader #castiel fanfiction #castiel imagine #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

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danniburgh · 3 years

Text

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 23

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +6.4k

Chapter warnings: lmao angst and then fluff, a brief mention of food, and drugs and a dog.

A/N: This chapter is set after season three. // aAAAAAA this is so long i dont even why but it took me like ALL day FUCK FUCK FUCK anyway thanks to all my babies that got me through the desperation of wanting this to write itself lmao, also two chapters and we are DONE with the main story holy shit

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

←previous // next→

gifs: @pascalsky

Javier groaned when he sat up and moved his legs to get them out of the bed and looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand; three forty-eight in the morning. He turned on the lamp, reached at his nape and scratched with blunt nails and reached for the pack of smokes that he left on the nightstand before laying down to try to sleep with the other hand.

He pulled the last one out of the pack and stood up to throw the empty carton in the trashcan near the door; he eyed the empty pack from the day before in the bottom of the can with the cigarette clinging to his lips thanks to near dry spit making them sticky and let out a deep sigh.

It wasn’t working.

His tongue moved to shift the cigarette from his lips and he let it fall inside the trashcan, knowing it wouldn’t be the last one he put between his lips, but at least he didn’t light it.

Javier thought of getting out of the room and raiding his dad’s bar again, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good.

It wasn’t working.

He knew it, and it couldn't be denied any longer. He wasn’t getting any younger and his old ways weren’t helping him forget as they used to ten or fifteen years before.

Javier walked back to the bed and sat on the edge, letting his half naked body fall backwards on the mattress and looking at the ceiling, he felt his hand twitch and he felt it empty without a nicotine stick firmly pressed between his index and his thumb but did nothing to calm it down.

Ten or fifteen years before: had it really been that long? Javier huffed at nothing and scratched his chest, leaving his hand there, uselessly wondering what would it be of him if he did something different; incidentally working through years and years of missteps, mishappens, mistakes, and shaping them in some other way that would have saved him from five months of poor sleep and constant drunkenness, five months of chain-smoking and lack of sharpness, five months of only remembering the bad things he had done and the bad things he deserved.

He huffed again because of course his retirement wouldn’t be him sitting on a porch to enjoy the evening Texas breeze and a glass of scotch; even if he had tried it.

It was having nightmares every third night he wanted nothing but to shove deep inside his head, but that then, reluctantly, he had to tell his new therapist his dad had forced him to go to.

It was having to remember all the men he saw dying every time he heard the words war or coke or shooting. Having to remember them changing and fighting and dying for a cause he wasn’t sure if he still believed in. Having to remember Carrillo every time he and Steve talked on the phone.

It was remembering you each time someone sent him a letter congratulating his work or asking for consultation or asking for an interview; because he had an idea of what you had been through and he was sure he didn’t deserve all that claptrap. He did nothing but cause chaos and destruction and death and even though his therapist said it wasn’t his fault he knew it was because he aided for it to happen.

But you? You did everything you could to find yourself a way to recover what was yours, and you still lost it.

Javier sat up again and after six exact seconds of consideration, he leaned forward and opened his nightstand drawer. He took the black tape he had been clinging to for five months and held it in front of him for a couple of minutes.

He chuckled at himself and gripped the small cassette, took from the drawer his tape player, pressed the red button for it to open, let the tape fall in the slit and closed it, turned it on and rewinded the tape, trying to make the calculations in his head of how many times he had repeated that process as the tape ran to the beginning.

He put the headphones on, laid down back on the bed and pressed play.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…”

God, how he missed you.

The phone rang again, fuck the phone, you thought, and hid your face under a pillow, trying to fall asleep again despite the clear signal that you were no longer sleepy.

And the phone rang again, you lifted your head from the cocoon of pillows and eyed the clock on your nightstand, who was calling you at five seventeen in the morning?

Grunting, you got out of the bed and walked out of the bedroom to the small space that made your living room, dining room and kitchen and got to the phone.

“Hello?” your voice was a deep groan, and you cleared your throat.

“Another letter came for you, when are you gonna change your address?” your dad’s voice broke through the receiver and you closed your eyes, breathing in and out the stress it was already provoking in you.

“I’ll get to it, dad,” you replied “are you gonna send it to me or can I go to the house?” you questioned, feeling already your lower lip tremble.

“I’ll send it, your mom doesn’t wanna see you yet,” he let out in a stern voice “sorry, pumpkin.” he whispered and hung up the phone.

You sat on the armrest of the loveseat next to the phone and let your tears fall from your eyes, not even bothering about cleaning them anymore.

You sighed and nodded to yourself, letting your tired gaze roam around your tiny living space and you missed the openness of your family house, the one you had come back to and were expelled from by an angry mother that felt ashamed of the truth you told them.

But you had to give it to her, she didn’t even know you went down to Colombia, or that you’d been having drug issues, or that they fired you.

She had told you she didn’t know who you were anymore.

Neither did you.

So you left, they couldn’t be more disappointed in you than you were in yourself, so you walked out as your mom wanted and tried to find a home for yourself as you still wondered what the hell were you supposed to do. There wasn’t a handbook or a protocol that taught people how to stop being a DEA agent, the government didn’t train people to go back to civility or even offered a program to forget all the shit you had lived in the places they had sent you.

You stayed in your hometown, unknowingly to your old friends and twenty minutes away from your parent’s home and didn’t leave your house unless absolutely necessary; Albuquerque wasn’t a small town, but it wasn’t big, and you were dreading walking past someone who knew you before you had lost yourself and tried to explain all your baggage, you didn’t have the time, or the energy. And you didn’t want people feeling sorry for yourself, with the woman in the mirror you had enough.

Everything seemed pointless, and you felt heavy all the time, as if you were carrying a chain ball in each foot and shackles in your hands while being dragged down by quicksand.

In the kitchen's corner you saw the last two boxes you still didn’t have energy to unpack after moving them across the continent and let out a teary sight as you stood from the armrest and walked to them.

You opened the first box and saw it filled with office clutter; pencils, markers, some notebooks and notepads, the brown journal you had been looking for to burn on your stove; a set of keys you weren’t sure what they opened and in the bottom, folded pieces of paper.

“Oh, no.” you muttered to the air of the warm kitchen and you doubted reaching in for it… The hesitation lasted two minutes but for you it was like two hours, you knew what it was, you knew why it was in that box and when you took it it felt hot and heavy. You were holding feelings in that letter, you were holding hours of shed tears and memories you didn’t want to have anymore. Memories that still haunted you whenever you smelled roasted colombian coffee and saw an ad of Malduros on tv.

You didn’t open it. You knew what was written there. And for a few seconds you thought of burning it on the stove instead.

“Well, I don’t want this, might as well send it.” you muttered under your breath, recognizing it would do you some good to stop holding to it, acknowledging it would do you some good to know he had it. If he wanted to rip it into millions of pieces or burn it or toss it in the trash or eat it, it was his problem.

You bit your lip as you walked to the phone; you hadn’t thought of him in a while. But as you sat on the loveseat all the shit you wanted to bury if not get rid of came back to your mind like a high wave of a rough sea; sharp, cold, gritty.

“Shit.” you gasped, trying to breathe in and out several times because you didn’t want to cry. It was too early for crying.

You grabbed the phone and thought who could have Javier’s address. God, even thinking of his name made your chest flutter and your stomach churn. You had fooled yourself into thinking he didn’t have an effect on you anymore, into even assuring five months was enough to forget him. What a fool.

You dialed the number of the only person you knew for sure knew the address by heart; the phone rang three times before it was answered.

“Hello?” a sleepy nasal voice greeted, and you smiled through the few tears that had accumulated in your eyes, grateful that he still had his embassy issued cell phone.

“Stod!” your smile was making your cheeks hurt, and you wondered in the back of your head when was the last time you had smiled.

“Who’s this? Flor?” he asked and you let out a stiff chuckle. You decided not to be a huge asshole and dump something heavy as your actual name that early in the morning, so you went with it.

“Yeah, sorry to call at this hour, did I wake you?” you played with the edge of the loveseat’s armrest.

“Kinda,” a noise of shuffle was heard “but it’s almost seven here, so I’m not that mad,” he teased, making you chuckle again “how are you? to what do I owe the honor?”

“Uhm, I–‌I’m calling to take advantage of you,” you said, hearing his chuckle through the line and a whisper of of course you did, “by any chance do you know Peña’s address in Texas?” you asked, closing your eyes and crossing your fingers, wishing for him to not ask:

“Why?”

“I–‌I have something of his...” you mumbled under your breath “I just found it and I wanna send it.” you said, which wasn’t technically a lie.

“Uh…” Stoddard hesitated, and you heard a faint of a pouring noise in the back that made you sigh, a cup of coffee would do you wonders, “well I do–I don't know if I’m allowed to just say it, y’know?” you frowned.

“Oh, come on, please?” you pleaded, your leg started bouncing because of the anxiety that was growing in your chest.

“What is it? is something important?” he asked.

“Super important,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see, “he needs it.”

“How do you know?” he questioned again, and you whined under your breath.

“Uhm, I ju–‌I just know, uhm…” since when were you a twitchy, nervous mess? “can’t you just tell me?”

“Not really, no.” he muttered in that voice that made you want to punch him and hug him at the same time.

You let out the air of your lungs and controlled your body.

You had promised yourself to tell the truth when it was necessary. So you were going to.

“Look, Stod, this is long to explain, okay?” you began, and he hummed affirmatively in response, “the only thing you need to know is that the thing I have here is very important that he gets because he needs to know that I kept it for him.” you said, closing your eyes again.

“Flor you just told me nothing.” he let out, his voice was being muffled and it sounded like he had something in his mouth.

“Fuck, Stoddard, I love him, okay?” you let out “and this thing I have is a letter that I need him to have so he knows I love him!” you panted and bit your lip when he didn’t answer.

You just had said out loud you loved someone, you just had said to someone you loved Javier Peña for the first time. Shit.

“Oh,” Stoddard said after a moment and you held your breath, “you have where to write?”

“You’re a fucking king!”

Six hours later, you wanted nothing else but to turn the fucking car around.

“This is a mistake, this is a fucking mistake!” you yelled inside your car, opening the glove box to toss there your sunglasses. The highway 285 was eternal, and you hated driving through it; it was empty, there was nothing but desert landscapes and the occasional tree, but you were halfway, just crossing the state border and there was nothing in the everlasting earth that would make you drive back home, not even your fucking hesitation, not even your self-doubt.

“What the fuck am I gonna say?” you asked yourself again, chewing on your lower lip and gripping the steering wheel, “am I just pulling on his driveway and knocking on his door and saying hi I’m sorry I broke your heart I have a letter for you? Fuck!” you saw the beginning of yet another town and you drove slowly looking for a gas station, “or better yet, I read this shit to him to complete the humiliation!” you turned your head for a second at the letter resting easily in the co-pilot’s seat and you groaned, finding a gas station. You were also hungry.

With the car’s tank full and a plastic bag filled with snacks for the remaining six hours, you sighed to yourself and started driving again.

“You’re doing this because you need closure,” you told yourself, shoving your hand into a bag of salted chips and bringing three to your mouth “if he doesn’t wanna see you, too bad, he’s gonna miss your haircut,” you mumbled, chewing at the same time “you leave the letter and let him decide what to do with it.”

With the highway 285 long behind you and the sky just beginning to turn orange, you had convinced yourself of your own reasons and you even had a plan to go back home as soon as you were done in Laredo. You also had promised yourself and all your Muertos, you wouldn’t react to Javier Peña if he didn’t react to you and as you had learned in your three-year station in México, you can’t break a promise you made to dead people.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you said when the marked map told you you were a block away from the Peña’s ranch house, you were chewing the last bit of a nearly melted chocolate bar you had bought hours ago as your nervousness betrayed you and you started chuckling at your impulses, “holy fuck, I wanna go home!”

But you were already there. The gate was open and there were two trucks parked on the driveway. So you sucked everything you were feeling, and you turned off the ignition. Fuck. It.

You breathed in and out several times before you unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbed the letter and opened the door. You did it again as you walked the gravel path to the house and were grateful it was already dark, so at least the night could help you hide until the last second.

You stopped walking, rationality coming back to you.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you whispered to yourself and turned around, shaking your head as you walked back to the car.

“Mija!” you heard behind you, you froze in place and stiffened at the sound of a thick accent in a rough and warm voice.

“Oh, no.” you said under your breath.

“It’s you!” you turned around, and you saw the face of the man you had only met through an old picture Javier carried with him at all times. “viniste.” (you came) behind him walked a black, large dog that ignored the man and huffed at you.

“I’m sorry?” your voice went out thin and high, and you wanted to chastise yourself for it. You had given yourself a seven-hour pep talk on the way, and you were already breaking.

“I told him,” the man rolled his eyes behind the glasses he was wearing and gestured for you to walk closer “Jesús Peña, nice to finally meet you,” he extended his hand to you and you took it and shook it, the dog got closer to you and smelled your legs, you tried to smile at him and at the dog but tears were already gathering inside your eyes “le dije que ibas a venir a buscarlo.” (I told him you’ll come looking for him)

“I’m sorry, Mr. Peña, I–‌I do–‌”

“Mr. Peña nada,” he interrupted, “call me Chucho,” you nodded and sniffed slightly “ven,” (come) he gestured again and started walking towards the house, “Pepe, métete.” (get inside) he called, and the dog trotted to his side.

“Wait, Chucho, wait!” you called him under your breath as you followed him, he didn’t stop.

“Come on in,” he opened the house door and waited for you to get inside. He nodded his head for you to walk in and you frowned.

“You don’t even know who I am, what ar–‌”

“I know enough,” he said solemnly, walked inside and you and the dog did too and he pointed to an armchair “siéntate, mija, he’s on the back.” he turned around and walked through an archway to what it looked like the kitchen and disappeared through a door, Pepe behind him.

“What the fuck.” you sobbed out, knowing you had little time to leave the letter you were clutching in your hands on the coffee table in front of you and walk out and leave for good. But you couldn’t move, you were in Javier’s house and you wanted to stop being there, but your body was frozen in place and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to scream at yourself, at your fucking impulses; you had all the opportunities to turn around and go back home, why didn’t you listen to your logical, rational, always right brain?

“Hi.” you heard behind your back and you covered your mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding the fucking letter.

You turned around and blinked the first two tears of what you already knew was going to be a sea of them.

He was wearing the red shirt. And God, it was his color.

Javier wanted to run away and hide.

He had just made peace with never seeing you again; he had just accepted that the only part he would have of you was that voice mail you had left him months before. But there you were, teary and gorgeous in front of him. Shaking and with your hands holding a piece of paper as if it were your lifeline.

His head was a contradiction, because he wanted to grab you and hug you all the same he wanted to grab you and shove you out of his house and his life.

“What are you doing here?” Javier asked, knowing deep inside him he wanted to tell you how good you looked and how much he liked your new hair. You let out a shaky breath at his deep voice. You had missed it.

It was the first time you saw him in five months, and the weight of your feelings for him fell again on your shoulders like a recently broken off boulder, heavy, rough edged and shapeless.

“I don’t know.” you answered truthfully, he sighed and deviated his eyes from you, you breathed in heavily and the only thing that got into your lungs was his essence. You cursed under your breath and he huffed, putting his hands on his hips and leaning to the side.

“How d'you found me?” he questioned, and you huffed through the tears.

“I have my resources.” you let out on a whisper. Trying to find his eyes, you needed to see his eyes.

“What do you want?” Javier asked again, and you deflated at the tone of his voice. The rational part of your brain yelled I told you so at your feelings and you knew it was right, you were expecting too much of yourself and of him.

“See you,” you bit your lower lip and Javier saw from the corner of his eyes how you scrunched up your nose, and he felt something inside his chest flutter, hating and loving all the same how much of you he still had stored inside his memory, “I have something for you.”

“Keep it.” he let out. You shook your head and raised your hand with the letter on it.

“Read it.” you half ordered, half pleaded, Javier chuckled and then shook his head, mimicking you.

“I don’t want it.” he knew he was lying to himself, he wanted to know what it was, he wanted to grip it and smell the paper and read it over and over but his body wasn’t responding to what his feelings were telling him and only responded, almost in automatic, to his prideful side, to that side of him that still resented you and himself.

“Alright then,” you said, standing straight after realizing you had regained the ability to read him even through your tears, and understanding there was something he was struggling with, “I’ll read it.”

“Stop.” Javier frowned and looked at you, his eyes pleading for you to do something you couldn’t decipher.

“I know, okay?” you said, trying to reassure him and yourself “I know I’m in no position to ask for shit,” Javier dropped his hands to the sides “but I just want ten minutes, just ten of your life, and you’ll never have to see me again if that’s what you want.”

You knew it was a risky thing to say, but you needed him to know, you needed him to understand you because you knew and he knew you did understand him. And he needed to know you. You and your version.

He said nothing, you took it as his queue to start so you breathed in deeply and unfolded the letter.

“Stop.” Javier said under his breath.

“No,” you wiped a tear off your cheek “I wrote this when I went back to Colombia after I got fired,” Javier looked at you and you saw his face quirk in something close to pain “uhm, before I wrote this I drove around Bogotá,” you recalled that last day in the city and how much it pained you to be there, “I went–‌I went to some of the places you told me you liked” you tried to smile and dropped your eyes to your shoes, trying to find something to cling to and compose yourself “even that little cafe you told me about, near the palace of justice, remember?” you sobbed out. And he called your name. Making you gasp.

“Stop,” you looked up at him and saw him frowning, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “we don’t need this.”

“I do!” you let out, Javier brushed his lips with his thumb and felt his hand twitch in need of nicotine again “I need to tell you all this!” you wiped your tears away again “I need closure!” you cried out.

Javier felt his stomach turn around and all the blood of his body went to his feet. Fuck.

How could he had been so stupid? he got into his own feelings too much and he forgot that you had cried your eyes out to him all those months ago when you handed him everything you were in a couple of manila folders. He had gotten wrapped by his own feelings and the hurricane your declaration had created in his life that he had forgotten just how much you were suffering as well. Because he might have thought about you; all the time, every day; he thought about your past and your reasons and motivations. He even thought of you naked on his bed in Colombia, under his body, moaning and gasping when he needed some release, but he forgot to think about your feelings.

“I didn’t come here to ask for forgiveness because I know I don’t deserve it,” you said and Javier felt the wetness of a tear escaping his eye and making its way through his cheek, “I’m trying to get closure, Javier, please let me try.”

Javier nodded.

You cried more when you saw him brush a tear off with his thumb and chew the inside of his mouth. You wanted to run away; you were sure he was better before you came to his house and disrupted his peace; you were hurting him again, and you wanted to kneel in front of him and ask him for what you said you weren’t seeking. He made you want so much.

You sniffed and dropped your eyes to the open letter in your hand, Javier didn’t move from where he was standing.

“No amount of guilt will or can change the past,” you began, Javier crossed his arms on his chest and saw movement to his side, “that much I know. I kno–‌know that it doesn’t matter,” you sniffed again and Javier turned his head to watch the dog casually walking towards him and sitting next to his boots. You saw it too, and you let out a sad chuckle.

“Ignore him.” he just said. You nodded.

“Uhm, it doesn’t matter how much I apologize, or how many I’m sorry’s I mouth, forgiveness doesn’t come for free.” you didn’t want to lift your eyes to see him, so you continued.

Javier only saw you reading him something he was sure you had poured your heart into, and he wanted nothing but to hear what you wanted to say to him, but he couldn’t focus into listening, because there you were, again in front of him doing what he never dared to do.

Opening your fucking chest, taking your heart out and giving it raw to him.

“...knowing and realizing and acknowledging just how much I love you.”

Javier drowned a gasp, as he fell in love with you all over again, you were doing what he didn’t have the balls to do, because in his sleepless sleep he wanted to look for you, in the middle of his idle nights, just after waking up after a nightmare, he wanted to find you and go to you and tell you whatever the fuck he could to be back with you. But he never did, he never did because he was a coward, because he feared his own feelings so fucking much.

He couldn't hear anything of it after your declaration of love. God, how much he loved you. You were standing there, with your eternally hopeful eyes filled with crystalline tears and several pages of written feelings. And he realized, there, with you in the middle of his living room, shifting to the next page, that even though you were extremely similar, you were also very different.

“...with you I found a reason to give up after all the shit I've lived in…” you muttered and he found the differences inside him; you were braver than him, you were smarter and more connected with what you felt; you weren’t scared of your feelings as he was. You went for what you wanted and even though it had been five months of that dreadful day when he saw his heart squeezed out of his body by your hesitant hand, that day he still replayed inside his head when the day was just over and his brain was floating between sleep and awakeness, he still wondered why you were bothering.

“There were so many things I thought…” you kept reading as he wondered if it was possible for the two of you to connect with each other outside of shared trauma and sympathy for each other’s experiences. But he answered to himself that even if you two weren’t as emotionally available as you needed to be to build a relationship or if you both were having a hard time adapting to be and live out of the system, maybe the love was real.

You stopped reading after noticing he was just standing there with his arms crossed and his eyes on you but not seeing you; you wiped the last of your tears and chuckled bitterly to yourself. Making him blink a few times.

“Fuck this,” you crumpled the pages in your hands and dropped them on the coffee table, shaking your head. Javier frowned, “it doesn’t matter what I read, I shouldn’t have come.” you said, drowning your sobs and gasping for air. He wasn’t paying attention, and nothing about it was making you feel any better about anything.

“What?” Javier whispered, dropping his hands to his sides.

“A’right, then…” you didn’t look at him and tried to control your breathing again “I guess that’s what I wanted to do,” you walked to the door and opened it, Javier wanted to ask what the fuck was happening, he wanted to grab your arm and stop you as he didn’t do it when you were leaving his office back in Colombia “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Javier,” he winced slightly involuntarily at the way you sobbed out his name “I’ll go.”

You walked out of the house covering your mouth with your hand to muffle your sobs, your rational brain was right, it was a mistake; it was a complete and utter mistake, and you were so ashamed of yourself for even thinking it would change anything. You walked to your car feeling the sharp, stinging sensation of a migraine settling in your head. You heard steps behind you and you turned around slowly, not wanting to put hope on the source being Javier.

“Mija,” you look at Chucho trying to catch up with you, “¿a dónde vas?” (where are you going?)

“I’m going home.” you said, shrugging at the man when he stopped in front of you.

“Why?” he asked, frowning.

“Because he said nothing, Chucho,” you bit your lip and looked at the Texan night sky and huffed at yourself, “he said nothing.”

“But he wants you, mija!” he assured you, and you shook your head several times.

“If he wants me as you say,” you pointed towards the house behind him, “then how come I’m not with him?” you reasoned, “he doesn’t want me.”

You dropped your eyes to the gravel path as Chucho sighed and raised his hand to squeeze your shoulder just enough for you to feel less sad. Just how a father would do.

Chucho glared at the house, the door open and Pepe standing in the threshold; his son had been back for months, he had been living next to him, eating next to him, working next to him and breathing next to him just as he did before he went away but he knew, just like a father could, he was not the same man that left.

He reminisced over the muchacho his son was before he left Laredo, so eager to get out of the small town he grew up in and that harbored his family home, so anxious to meet new horizons, so keen to find and explore new places and learn new things; he sometimes found himself missing that boy, he sometimes missed his Javi; the one that helped him build a paddock for his own horse, the one that washed his truck without asking and without failing each friday evening, the one that took care of his Mamá’s funeral at sixteen when himself was too sad to think about coffins or tombstones; because the man that came back to him after almost two decades too far away from home wasn’t the same.

He had seen and done things that Chucho never wanted to to ask about but he imagined, his Javier wasn’t the same. And Chucho knew why, but he also knew about you. Javi had talked about you way too much for his own good, as he did everything. And Chucho also knew why, he wasn’t letting the woman that made his son come back home run away.

“He does want you,” he said, slowly, with a low voice, as if it were a secret, “mijo… es un idiota a veces, but he loves you.” (he’s an idiot sometimes)

“You don’t know that.” you refuted.

“I do,” he gave you a smile that was barely visible under the white mustache “el te ama, y yo…” (he loves you, and I…) “I’m so grateful.” you shook your head as two thick tears left your eyes.

“I broke his heart.” you sobbed out.

“Y me lo trajiste a casa, Florecita” (and you brought him home to me, little flower) you sobbed harder, not able to control it anymore, and he brought you to him, and held you.

“He told you my fake name?” you asked between sobs.

“He told me what you look like.” he muttered.

“I’m so sorry.” you let yourself be wrapped by him and you hid your face on his shoulder.

“Don’t be, without you I would’ve lost my only child.” you held him tighter.

“Please.” you pleaded for nothing and everything at the same time.

“You gotta fight for him, mija.” he muttered to your ear, and you shook your head, still leaning into him.

“I’m fighting for him!” you almost yelled “I’m here, aren’t I?” you lifted your head to look at the man and you gasped for air, dropping your hands to your sides “I drove almost thirteen hours non-stop all the way from Albuquerque just to be here!” you told him and the man stiffened as you lost your shit in front of him, you gripped your head between your hands “thirteen hours to read him that stupid letter and he didn’t say shit!”

“You did what?” you heard and lifted your head to see Javier standing behind his dad.

Chucho looked at Javier and then at you with your cheeks dampened with tears. He squeezed your shoulder again and turned to walk to the house.

“You were in Albuquerque all this time?” he said, and you nodded, noticing he was holding the letter in his hand “when you said you’d go you meant back there?” he frowned in confusion.

“Well, yeah, I have nowhere to stay so I might as well drive home.” you muttered, Javier’s frown deepened, and he stepped towards you.

“Stay here,” he said, “if you wanna leave you leave in the morning.” his voice was thin and low. You looked at his eyes and saw them reddened and wet.

“Did you read it?” you whispered out. He stepped towards you again, nodding.

“Stay.” he whispered back.

“You don’t want me.” you said under your breath as shook your head and he stepped closer.

“Who says that?” he asked, and you looked at the gravel path again.

“I won’t stay.” you felt Javier’s warm fingers graze under your chin and lift your head to him slowly.

“Don’t be so stubborn,” he chastised you with half a smirk forming on his lips “stay with us.” you shook your head again.

“You don’t want me here but you want me to stay,” you said, frowning at him “Javier you can’t have it bo–‌”

“I want you to stay,” he interrupted you “I want you to stay with me,” he whispered as his fingers moved to your cheek and wiped away a tear. “please.”

Javier had read your letter after you walked out and realized, at the prospect of you leaving for what it seemed like forever, at the possibility of you leaving him for good and he never getting to see you or your gorgeous face or your hypnotizing eyes or hearing your voice that did so many things on him, that the balance of his other losses leaned upwards when he weighed the probability of losing you.

Did he care about what you did? of course he did, it still stung sometimes deep inside his chest, it still filled him with something close to grief.

Was he willing to work it out and let it aside because he didn’t want to feel the agony and deep sorrow of not having you by his side he had been feeling for the last five months again? yes.

And the answer to that question inside his head startled him and shook him deeply.

You were there. God, you were there, there was no way he was going to let you leave.

Javier decided you could work it out later, he loved you way too much not to try. He didn’t even plan to love you the way he did, the way he discovered by reading that letter or remembering the man he was without you. He didn’t even plan to love you at all, but he did. He was madly, insanely, deeply in love with you.

Javier moved his hand to your shoulder and let the one holding the letter find its way to your waist. Find its way home.

“Don’t go.” he whispered again. He moved the last step to wrap his hands around you. You let out a low yelp at the feeling of his body so close to you, for a second you froze in place, your eyes closed and his warmth invaded your entire body as he hid his head in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your essence as you hugged him back and gripped him tightly against you.

Javier felt as if all his parts were being glued back together.

“Stay with me.” he whispered against the skin of your neck.

So you stayed.

←previous // next→

*THE LETTER*

Pepe:

pedrito's perma list: @queenofthefaceless @northernpunk @pascalesque @sleep-tight1 @cheekygeek05 @bii-aan-ckaa @letaliabane @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorianalso @supernaturalgirl @metalarmsandmanbuns @purplepascal042 @asta-lily @greeneyedblondie44 @missswriter @juletheghoul @pedro-pastel @agirllovespancakes

Javi's babies: @pulplorrd

RushBit tag list: @shestillwrites1 @alliterative-albatross @absurdthirst @thoughtfulpandawasteland @wifeofdindjarin @lank-sextburg @the-ginger-hedge-witch @helloannbananalove @diogodxlot @pascalslittlebrat @sarahjkl82-blog @pedritobalmando @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @mamacitapascal @dobbyjen @callsigncatfish @feminist-violinist @jasmincita @pascalove @eury-dice3 @gingaahhhh @athalien

#javier peña #Javier Pena #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #narcos #narcos fanfic #narcos fan fic #narcos netflix #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal #pedro pascal characters #rushingly bittersweet tag

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headspace-hotel · 4 years

Text

I’ve been wanting to make this post for a while, but...I’m fascinated by the fact that for well over a decade the Harry Potter series was nearly unchallenged publicly as one of the holy grails of YA/children’s fantasy, seldom criticized at all on quality (and usually by 45+ year old men who hated children’s books in general), and was widely acknowledged by a huge number of readers as having strongly impacted them, and now everyone supposedly never liked Harry Potter anyway and always knew it sucked and that J.K. Rowling was a talentless hack.

Please. This is embarrassing. You and I both know that Harry Potter has never been “obviously” garbage, nor is it “inexplicable” why it became successful. No, it’s not even close to the best fantasy ever written. Yes, its ideas are not really all that original. No, I don’t really give a shit about it anymore. But this amnesia about what an overwhelming phenomenon in culture it was is SO pointless. We both know that 10 years ago, it was not clear and self-evident that Harry Potter sucked and had no redeeming qualities, and 10 years ago, INCREDIBLY few people in the target audience would have said that. If anyone. I can’t remember ever hearing anyone say the books had no redeeming qualities before, like, a few months ago.

And like, just from a math point of view, it seems like most of us should have been among those who at least somewhat liked Harry Potter. I know I did when I was like 12-15. The number of people claiming they never liked it seems to be too large a proportion. Just considering my memories of how ubiquitous praise of Harry Potter was when I and many of those people would have been among the target audience. Like iirc just like 3 years ago the average rating for the books on goodreads was ridiculously high.

The number of people now who are coming out and saying that they literally can’t understand why Harry Potter appeals to people is just...I don’t know. Sad? That the idea of personally enjoying something that has bigoted or evil influences is so unacceptable we’re all trying to retcon our memories? And also just irritating? I mean maybe you did dislike JKR’s writing style since reading it in 2012, but...Having disliked JKR’s writing style since 2012 or whatever says next to nothing about you? For that matter, your opinion on her writing style has no relationship whatsoever to your attitude toward trans people?

Like??? What is the point??? To prove to one another that we were better and more moral 11 year olds because we always Saw The Truth about JKR’s work? Or are we just that uncomfortable with admitting that a bigot’s artistic work can be appealing to anyone other than a bigot? I don’t think it helps people to pretend that bad people cannot create good art or even art with good qualities. Or to pretend that good people don’t ever like art that contains bigotry.

I mean of course plenty of people always did genuinely dislike Harry Potter. But like. We can’t just hide our eyes and be like “Oh! I all of a sudden can’t understand why anyone would like Harry Potter! It was always so bad and unoriginal! Why on earth would Harry Potter be popular?” Now that JKR has come out as being a full blown transphobe. That’s not??? A critical attitude??? A critical attitude would be understanding why people like the thing (even if you personally don’t like it) not emphasizing how impossible it is for you to understand a person liking it, as if you’re so pure and untainted that you can’t even mentally understand the appeal in something?

And I guess something bothers me about the response to an artist’s bigotry that’s like,,,trashing every single thing about their artistic skill, even that which has no relationship to their bigotry? I see this constantly. It’s like we want to believe that being bad means someone can’t create good stuff, or if they did create good stuff, they stole their ideas from someone else. And that just doesn’t seem like how the real world works.

Of course, this is not referring to having the association with the artist ruin the art for you, or to seeing bigotry in the art that wasn’t visible for you before. (Definitely both happened to me with Harry Potter.) It’s referring to the sudden insistence that springs into being every time an artist’s evil actions or beliefs come about that they were never any good anyway and that all their good ideas must be stolen or not really good at all. And even that they only became popular because everyone else must have been evil and bigoted.

Like insisting that every piece of art by a bigot seems bad to you is the opposite of being critical of art. I don’t buy that anyone’s artistic taste can sniff out the bigotry of the artist for a second.

And I also don’t buy that it’s ever been a clear fact that one of the most popular book series of all time was shit. The quality of literature doesn’t easily come down to “objectivity,” for one thing. But also...obviously there was some reason people liked it, even if it was a complete accident on the part of the creator, or it came down more to timing. I personally think JKR had quite a bit of creativity and skill with worldbuilding on the small day-to-day scale, even if she didn’t think through the big picture stuff. She knew how to pick out strong, vivid descriptors in her writing, even though she liked to use that ability to describe side characters in nasty and sometimes bigoted ways. She at least sort of knew what she was doing with some stuff. It’s not...wrong to see that.

And also...they’re children’s books. Most of us read them for the first time AS CHILDREN. Children are able to be critical of stories, but not on the same level or in the same way as an adult. Everyone has liked a bad book at some point because they were a kid and they’d never encountered anything like it before. It happens.

#Harry Potter #jk rowling #jkr #j k rowling #books #reading #art #bigotry #transphobia #terf cw #the notes on this post are gonna be a warzone #but you only live once

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offbrandhange · 3 years

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hi! are you accepting requests? if so can i request a fic where levi and the reader are secretly seeing each other and their little interactions spark up the interest of hange, so hange tells the rest of the levi squad and they all try to find out whether theyre dating or not? thank you!!

Yes, I am!!! Tysm for this idea I had so much fun writing it!!!

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: ~1.4K

a/n -- I really hope this isn’t bad HHHHHHH

The mess hall was rowdy as always for a Friday night; all different regiments and ranks joined together—just to drunkenly blow off steam.

At the higher-ups’ table, a loud thud was heard; Hange had slammed down their beer-filled mug, laughing as they slightly splashed it on the man in front of them.

“Sorry,” They hummed cheerfully, despite knowing it was likely they would get berated for getting beer on him; He scolded them every chance he got.

Hange smiled stupidly while waiting for harsh words, but there were none. The man said nothing, his eyes completely elsewhere. He had no idea there was an ale stain on his white cravat.

“Levi?” Hange blurted in confusion, hiccuping while they did so.

It was beyond uncommon for Levi to be spaced out and uncaring about a mess. He hated anything he deemed unclean—and he was picky about it, too.

Hange was knowingly alarmed by their colleague’s strange behavior, and so, they curiously turned their head to see what he was staring at.

His eyes were locked on a cadet belonging to the Scout regiment—one that Hange scarcely recognized as someone often around the Titan shifter, Eren Jaeger.

“That’s odd,” Hange murmured to themself, lifting the beer to their mouth to sip.“Wonder if this’ll work.”

Mischievously, Hange ran their hand on the underside of the wooden table, getting a good heap of dust and dirt to stick to their palm. Afterward, Hange lifted themselves from their seat, leaned over the table, and softly flattened their hand on the top of Levi’s head; he didn’t move an inch.

A booming “Woah,” escaped their lips, and in the typical Hange way, it caught everyone at the table’s attention—everyone except for Levi.

“Hange,” their co-worker called, a member of Levi’s squad; it was Petra. “What’s wrong?”

“He didn’t even flinch—I touched him with dusty hands!” Hange exclaimed, making dramatic gestures in disbelief.

Petra raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Levi, who was now not only wearing a stained cravat; but also dust particles covering his usually impeccably shiny raven hair.

Hange let out another scream in amazement; once again catching everyone’s attention—but not just those at the table. This time, the cadet noticed as well.

You began your strides over towards Levi—leaving behind your other members of the scouts. The closer you came towards him, the more his face began to change from pale to pink.

Hange watched in disbelief as you smiled at the short man, who now met your eyes with a softened gaze.

You reached to his cravat; pinching the corner lightly to look at the stain Hange’s beer left. “Oh,” you scrunched your eyebrow. You weren’t sure why he hadn’t been freaking out over the stain. “Do you want me to wash this for you? It’s dirty.” You asked, pulling your hand back.

Levi’s gaze diverted from yours as his face changed from blushing pink to cherry red, practically ripping off his cravat to hand to you. “Sure.” He quickly replied.

Both Petra and Hange stared in shock. The usually strict, grumpy, short-tempered Levi was completely gone. Instead, he was now a wide-eyed, innocent virgin—who seemed to have not known what a woman was.

As you walked out of the mess hall with Levi’s cravat—to presumably wash—his focus was finally back to normal.

“What?” He growled, meeting Hange and Petra’s bewildered eyes with his violent ones.

They paused for a moment, saying nothing, until Hange deftly answered, “You got dust on your head.”

Levi’s eyes widened, and he immediately started swatting at his head, disgusted by all the particles surrounding him.

“I need a shower.” He stated, rising from his seat, speed walking awkwardly out of the mess hall. It was clear he was very close to freaking out--grime was one of the only tame things in life that scared him.

After he left, Petra and Hange both silently sat, trying to comprehend what just happened.

“Is Captain....dating?” Petra questioned, turning to look at Hange.

“Levi? Dating? No way.” Hange answered, not completely convinced of their own conviction.

There was another long silence between Petra and Hange—and then Hange opened their mouth to speak.

“We’re definitely investigating, right?”

“What? Isn’t that an invasion of his privacy? I don’t think he would like it—“ Petra pleaded, but it was to no avail—Hange had already risen from their seat.

“Get the rest of Levi squad, then meet me outside of his office.”

Petra sighed as she watched Hange leave the room; She was not too keen on snooping in on Levi’s personal life—mostly because she valued his opinion of her—and did not want to lose his trust.

Hange, however, was giggling to themselves, bouncing as they walked to Levi’s office.

The walk didn’t take long, since his room was relatively close to the mess hall; but picking the lock certainly would. Once they arrived at Levi’s door, Hange pulled a hairpin from the bird’s nest that rested atop their head—poking and prodding at the lock best as they could.

When the lock had broken, Hange turned to see that Petra and the rest of the Levi squad were standing beside them.

“Good, you’re here.”

“Is Captain Levi really dating? He doesn’t seem like the type to get involved with others.” Eld questioned.

Oluo scoffed before he replied. “Of course not—he’s way too busy.”

Petra rolled her eyes. “Like you’d know.”

“Of course I would—are you implying I don’t know what it’s like to be busy? My kill count—“ Oluo stopped, accidentally biting his tongue.

Gunther just sighed and made his way into the room; the rest following along.

Hange and the Levi squad searched for what seemed like forever; they looked for anything they could find—a love letter, gifts, anything out of the ordinary that their Captain would not normally have—but they found nothing.

Eventually, Gunther sighed and slammed the desk drawer shut. “This is pointless.”

“And an invasion of privacy,” Petra added, sounding slightly annoyed.

Hange was starting to tire themselves—pushing up their glasses and rubbing their eyes, they spoke. “Fine, let’s call it a night; we can try and pair them up tomorrow during training and see then.”

Everyone left the room, dragging their feet. Their mission failed, and everyone was beyond tired; They certainly weren’t going to stay up any later than they already had.

Goodbyes were exchanged, and they headed their separate ways; Hange specifically towards their dorm.

And that’s when they turned the corner—and saw Levi talking with you in the deserted hall.

Hange hid, pushing their glasses back down to see clearer. Excited, they screamed internally.

Levi stood with the straightest posture possible; you could tell he was nervous. His hair was pushed back out of his face, still wet from his shower, with a towel draped around his neck.

You handed him his cravat, teasing him for getting it dirty. It was exactly what you expected to see from two lovers.

Once you leaned in to kiss Levi on the cheek, Hange jumped out from the corner, revealing themselves.

“HOLY SHIT! YOU ARE DATING!” Hange screamed, standing strangely, pointing at you and Levi.

The short man went flying as he threw himself away from you—he was now flat against the wall, with an expression that mimicked a frightened cat.

Slightly spooked yourself, you turned to look at Hange. “Oh. Squad Leader Hange.”

“ARE YOU DATING?” Hange screamed down the hall—you could hear an angry cadet in their room yell back, “shut up.”

Levi peeled himself off the wall, walking down towards Hange angrily—you followed.

“What is this.” He sneered, glaring at his colleague.

“ARE. YOU. DATING.” Hange repeated, putting a lengthy amount of space between their words.

Levi turned bright pink again—and said nothing. Annoyed, you sighed and spoke for him. “Yes, we are.”

“HOLY SHIT!” Hange yelled, dragging out the o.

“Keep your mouth shut, four eyes.” Levi spat, returning to his typical grumpy demeanor.

You pat him on the shoulder, resting your hand there to represent a small, “be nice.” His face grew even more in color; instantly melting at your touch.

“Don’t go around telling people,” you said, trying to clarify what he meant. “I don’t want others to think I’m getting special privileges.”

Hange sucked in a long breath, trying to calm themselves. “Sure, sure, yep, yep, yep. I got you.” They smiled politely, beginning to walk off.

You and Levi watched as they turned to corner—and all of a sudden you heard them scream.

“PETRA!”

Levi charged after Hange—and you muttered to yourself, “oh my god” before following along.

It was going to be a long night.

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