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distort-opia · 1 year

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You know i think people should write more of Khoa being jealous of Joker or at least those in Gotham. Like Khoa matter so much to Bruce in the early day and even now but he's been gone for most of his life, and if there's one constant person that has matter so much to Bruce in his life after that Joker is the one. Khoa wish he'd turn away from Gotham but Bruce wouldn't do it and as a result he too wouldn't look away from those in it (Joker, Harvey, Selina). I think he should find this annoying because no matter what he do if compare to them, Bruce would always look at their way more. Your ghostbat fic really show that tbh. Him wanting to keep Khoa close but also him always feeling the pull towards Joker, towards Gotham

It'd definitely be something interesting to explore in more stories! Comics included. Ghostmaker comes to Gotham after Joker War and singles out Clownhunter, but it always struck me as fascinating how his whole spiel would've made a lot more sense applied to Joker himself:

Batman (2016) #103

Leaving aside the fact that Bao only became Clownhunter because of Joker's actions... protecting twisted and unrepentant killers, huh? Because Bruce cares too much and thinks everyone can be saved, huh?

But also you're getting at a facet of the core conflict between Bruce and Khoa, and that's Bruce's fatal attachment to Gotham. He chose Gotham over Khoa before he even became Batman... there's no way he'd leave it now, after sacrificing decades of his life to the city. I think Khoa definitely knows that, and it's why he's staying in Gotham right now; he knows Bruce would never leave. However, it's got to sting, one way or another. At the end of the day, Khoa is compromising and giving more than Bruce is. Which is the state of 90% of Bruce's relationships, actually... and it's why we've already seen other characters struggle with it. Selina, perhaps, is the one most resigned to it, although it's clearly quite bitter:

Batman (2016) #35

And that's coming from Catwoman and Batman's almost-wife, someone who grew up in Gotham and is undeniably part of it.

But would love to see Khoa's struggle with this, yes! It's different for him in a lot of ways, since he's less keen on acknowledging that he does make emotion-driven choices. Being jealous of the way Bruce is hung up on Gotham and the people in it would make for delicious angst in the Khoa-admits-he-has-Feelings department.

Though I'll admit, addressing the Joker-shaped elephant in the room is particularly fascinating to me because of the way he hasn't been directly talked about. Joker objectively impacted the lives of all characters involved in Ghostmaker's introduction arc, Bruce being the most obvious of all; but you also have Bao and Harley. And Khoa does pick Harley's brain about it. He calls Joker "one of the most dangerous men on the planet" and shows curiosity over Harley's relationship with him. It feels strange that we haven't been shown Khoa confronting Bruce about Joker, especially because of the timing of Khoa's appearance (post Joker War) and Khoa's accusation of Bruce caring too much, and that making him a failure. The glaring implication here is that Bruce fails because he refuses to let Joker die too (Joker War's ending still doesn't count as that, seeing as Bruce literally made sure Joker would be able to survive before making a statement through leaving), much like he refuses to let Khoa kill Bao or Bao kill Harley. It'd make so much logical sense to have a moment in which Khoa is like "Bruce, you've been fighting this clown-themed motherfucker for like two decades and he's getting worse and worse. You're not helping him, you're not killing him, you're not containing him. What the fuck are you doing??" Hence that fic of mine you mentioned, Anon. I really needed a scene in which Khoa did this.

But I realize this notable empty space within the story is probably due to Tynion not wanting to address Joker's influence. Ghostmaker's introduction arc includes fighting and traumatizing Bruce into being better... the same method Joker employed in Joker War (and not only). Not to mention the psychopathy, the obsession with Bruce, and the common theme between Khoa and Joker when it comes to refusing to admit that their past matters. There's plenty of parallels there, and avoiding them just makes the lack of addressing it more glaring to me. Within Universe though, it manages to come across as Khoa avoiding the subject, which is its own kind of angsty fun for a multi-shipper.

Got long again, lmao. Sorry about that. But yeah, it's fascinating that you've got the (arguably) "good" pre-Batman psychopath and then the "evil" post-Batman psychopath and Bruce is Unhinged about both of them, but in distinctly different ways. I'm very excited about Batman Inc. (2022) #8 now, since the cover and previews indicate Khoa might take on Joker! I really hope it'll be written well. Technically Joker's in his divorce era and him coming back to Gotham and the whole Joker Inc. thing... trying to figure out where the hell that falls in the timeline of Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing, since Failsafe hasn't taken place there yet. Or what Joker's motivations are, or if that'll even be the real Joker. But either way, there better be some good drama!! Fingers crossed.

#though fics like that are lacking also because of the widely-held fandom stance of 'we hate Joker'#which once again. I respect when it comes from reasonable individuals #but not when it's coming from antis who harass and hate on real-life people over a bunch of pixels #asks #long post #batman #ghostmaker #joker #bruce wayne #minhkhoa khan #selina kyle #ghostbat #batjokes

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highlifeboat · 1 year

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Since you mentioned Raven, Dad, what's your general thoughts/headcanons on her?

Alright so, it's been a while since I watched Teen Titans or any of the movies (I do wanna watch them again. At least the show. That was my shit as a kid) BUT, if it isn't obvious, I fucking love Raven. She's just so cool, and I loved her aesthetic, and her powers are fucking AWESOME. (Plus Tara Strong? Absolute queen of Voice Acting she's the only Raven as far as I care [Taissa Farmiga is really good in Judas Contract and the other movies tho. Credit where Credit's due lol])

This is just as side note, too, but the TTG/2006 TT crossover movie? A goddamn mess. I never needed to Raven vore herself.

Okay, so, general headcanons:

This is just a small thing, but she's defiantly got pointy ears and fangs. I mean, girl is half demon. She deserves more visible demon-esqu features besides grey skin and purple eyes.

She likes men and women, but refuses to label herself as Bi or Pan because she just... doesn't want to.

On the Ace spectrum, but, again, refuses to label herself as such.

Doesn't care about pronouns. Like she isn't genderfluid or anything like that but she can vibe with any pronouns.

Autism™

The biggest Parental Issues known to man (pretty sure that's just canon anyway)

She was raised by monks so I have a feeling she never had a strong relationship with her mom.

Like, they loved each other but it never felt like a real paternal relationship.

She knows and understand the circumstances in which she was conceived. And there's always been this sense of self loathing that comes with it.

She also refuses to acknowledge Trigon as her father anymore.

Touch aversion. She hates being touched by 90% of people.

She's still incredibly guilty about, y'know, ending the whole world.

The order of her friends, from most to least favourite; Cyborg, Starfire, Robin, Beast Boy.

As far as she's concerned, her friends are her family. They are her brothers and sister. She loves them dearly.

She still likes to help Cyborg work on the T-Car and any of his other mechanical projects.

Social Anxiety

This girl does not drink water. Like... ever. Only tea. Her friends have to force her to drink water.

She's also just... inherently carnivorous. She eats way more meats than veg.

She actually misses Terra quite a bit. But there's always that lingering feeling of betrayal when Raven thinks about her. So she tries not to.

Fat crush on Rose Wilson, I do not take criticism. She refuses to acknowledge it, though, because that's Slade's daughter (Yes I am merging TTG lore into this. Rose should have been in the 2006 show idc.)

Speaking of Slade, she has many nightmares about that man.

Her and Starfire having "Girl's nights" and just hanging out together.

And... I think that's all I have. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#i dunno is this too much #i have thoughts #now i wann draw her #raven roth #she so powerful and cool and pretty and amazing and goddamn i wanted to be her #asks #anons #teen titans posting

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salarta · 2 years

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Do you have any comics recommendations for Polaris so I can get to know her character?

My main suggestions are X-Men 49-50, Giant-Size X-Men, New X-Men 132, Uncanny X-Men 431 (or 430, keep forgetting exact number) and 442-443, and X-Factor 243. Those are the issues I suggest if your goal is getting to know who she is. If I had to suggest just one issue, it would be New X-Men 132.

The big problem for Lorna is that her core concept as a character (struggling between Magneto and Xavier philosophies) was unraveled very shortly after she started when Marvel retconned her parentage. Because it was the 60s, the loss of her core concept led to Marvel defaulting to sexism. Unfortunately, the sexism was reinforced instead of confronted by subsequent writers, so a lot of people at Marvel have a very negative and low opinion of her worth, and they don't care about challenging their assumptions and doing better because she's not Jean or Emma or Storm, etc.

What this means is there are a LOT of comics with her in them that I wouldn't recommend. I can see those periods being referenced and reworked in the hands of a writer that cares, but not reading those actual issues.

Claremont era is what I've usually said shouldn't be read, but 90s X-Factor increasingly joins the list. It's become clear over the past few years that nostalgia for 90s X-Factor is now a huge hindrance to proper use and development for her. Marvel keeps shoving her onto teams named X-Factor while acting like she has no broader X-Men history and excluding her from important events. It's been most egregious in how Marvel's had no qualms in referencing 90s X-Factor and related things constantly, but has refused to acknowledge Lorna being a survivor of the Genoshan genocide for over 15 years now. Meanwhile, Havok gets to do all sorts of other things and lead various teams without X-Factor constantly coming up like it's all that defines him.

#polaris #lorna dane #x-men #marvel

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explode-this · 7 months

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If you struggle with substance use/misuse, please know that there are more options available to you than Alcoholics Anonymous or other 12 step programs. I am not saying this to cast aspersions on AA or other groups of that nature, but to let people know that they are not limited to this one way of thinking. I don’t much care to rely on numbers and statistics to prove or disprove efficacy; I know that for some people AA really gels with them, and that’s fine—if that mode of thinking works for them, it’s what works. What doesn’t work is when struggling, often traumatized people are made to feel like they are broken or “constitutionally incapable” of “working a program.”

I know there’s a kind of taboo about talking about this. Any frank discussion of the 12 step program and movement often results in accusations of “you don’t understand because you’re not a drunk like us” or “you’re not a real alcoholic then” or “your doubt in the program will lead people to die.” First of all, no. We are all human beings, and a lot of us struggle with problems related to the spectrum of dependence and habitual behaviors. A bulimic and a compulsive spender and a gambler and an alcoholic have several key things in common, and it’s not “a disease.” It can be unresolved trauma, or an inability to articulate one’s vulnerabilities, or self-medication. There is no special “alcoholic gene,” though I was often told as a child that when I was an adult, I’d have to “watch myself carefully” because my father had a drinking problem. It is not fair to saddle a child with the expectation that a temporary problem is destined to be a lifelong struggle, or that they will “inherit” their parent’s “disease.” Watching my father struggle with alcohol, and experiencing the way he took his own hurt out on me and my mother, I do not think he was diseased and I do not think that I was destined to become like him. Looking back at him, I see the first child of immigrants who had a lot of pain and anger from a difficult, abusive household and the pressure to fit in with white people while having a distinctly ethnic name. I see a child who grew into a young man who didn’t know how to examine his feelings and took them out on anyone younger and more vulnerable than him—his brother, his daughters. I see a man who never got to know his adult daughter because he never got the help he needed to heal his wounds, because he thought that counseling was weak and resisted any kind of spiritual life beyond listening to the occasional Cliff Richard record. If there was a “disease,” it was because the world he grew up in refused to let men have feelings, refused to let men be small and hurt and vulnerable, that refused to acknowledge that our differences are far outweighed by our similarities.

Second of all, if the commonly suggested solution to ‘addiction’ is a program so fragile that those in it cannot bear to hear criticism, how can it claim to help? You must be able to hear opposition. You must be able to articulate why you are in this place and why it does help you, and you must be able to accept that it is not the only way. I understand the sensitivity of people who are sorting out their lives in a time of crisis, but there seems to be no confidence at all that those people can handle conflicting views. They must split off from people who aren’t “in program” because it might hurt their chances of recovery, even if those people don’t drink; meanwhile, “in program” they are told that if they quit the program or find fault with it, then the alternative is “jail, institutions or death,” still, in this the year of someone else’s lord 2023, from a program whipped up by a guy whose “spiritual awakening” was belladonna, for god’s sake, in the 1930s, before there was television. With a book considered ordained by god, that has only been edited four times in about 90 years, and none of that editing was to take out the chapter “to wives,” which was written by Bill W in the voice of women, with no actual contribution from actual wives of alcoholic men (including his own, who wanted to write the chapter). These are not things that are known necessarily to people who adhere to the program, because looking into it analytically is not encouraged lest it throw the alcoholic all the way to rock bottom. Except that “rock bottom” is the thing that qualifies someone for help. If the disease metaphor actually held true—as it is often held up against cancer as an example of a the kind of illness it is—then this is the equivalent of waiting until stage four cancer to bother getting chemo. And calling oneself an alcoholic for the rest of one’s life, regardless of whether they are drinking or not, is like going back for chemo every week after you’re in remission. It never allows the ability to heal. It doesn’t allow the person with a problem to ever be free of it—they must cage themselves in with it, and the fear of relapse, and stay in a very tight mental space so they never have to learn to intuit things for themselves or trust that they can be upright in the world on their own power, because those first three steps are all about divesting the individual of their power. Sometimes this manifests as not taking responsibility for what the “disease” made them do—and sometimes it’s a lifelong shroud of guilt and a permanent sense of fallibility. There is no interest in moving past the “solution”; it becomes a different kind of mire than that of alcoholism or gambling or sex or whatever you struggle with. This comes with thought stopping cliches like “better addicted to this than the alternative” or “maybe my brain needed washing.” This is, frankly, madness.

The TL;DR here is that if you don’t want to relegate yourself to this life but still get help, you can. Please consider:

- SMART Recovery

- The Freedom Model

- The Satanic Temple Sober Faction

- the works of Dr. Lance Dodes and Dr. Gabor Mate

- opening up to people who don’t struggle like you do; their perspective is also valuable

Yes, AA is free. Yes, it has been around “forever.” But it is also unregulated, run by a board that remains politically neutral (because the problem by their definition is an individual one, not one where systemic injustice and other issues contribute), and has no kind of reportage for individual chapters nor the sponsors who can do and say whatever they like, because there is no training, no discussion of how to handle trauma, no way to vet the person who has decided to take you under their wing. Seek out voices who oppose AA, even if you do think it’s the way for you—those who were in it for years and can talk at length about the traumatic experiences are worthwhile sources for deciding what is right for you. I really like Tara Grace at UnRecovering with Tara Grace—she speaks frankly about her life and why AA was harmful for her.

You are not “constitutionally incapable of being honest with yourself” if AA doesn’t work for you. It just may not work for you. The phrase “it works if you work it” is an empty tautology that puts the onus on you to do things that may not make any sense to you based on other variables like neuroatypicality (ask an AuDHD person if Al-Anon made sense. That’s me, and no, it didn’t) and then blames you for it if you can’t “get it.” Consider this: a light switch works if you work it. Working it in this case involves flipping the switch. You can flip that switch all day long and it’s “working” the light. But if the lightbulb burns out and you have no idea where the other lightbulbs are, or don’t have a ladder to reach and replace it, then no amount of flipping the switch will make it work.

To end: if it does work for you, that’s fine. But it does not work for all, and if you can’t respect that—or you continue to proselytize as the 12th step implores you to do—then you are pushing a limited scope on people who actually need human connection without condition, not a “one-size fits all” structure that falls apart upon the least amount of scrutiny.

#fuck it #i won’t dance around it anymore #alcoholics anonymous harms more than it helps #and it’s a religion unto itself but y’all aren’t ready for that discussion yet #earthlings love you because you’re an earthling too #okay yes i cast *some* aspersions #but if you knew how much research and pattern spotting this takes #you’d understand why lol

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tpanan · 2 years

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My Saturday Daily Blessings

September 24, 2022

Be still quiet your heart and mind, the LORD is here, loving you talking to you...........

Saturday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time (Roman Rite Calendar) Lectionary 454, Cycle C

First Reading: Ecclesiastes 11:9-12:8

Rejoice, O young man, while you are young and let your heart be glad in the days of your youth. Follow the ways of your heart, the vision of your eyes; Yet understand that as regards all this God will bring you to judgment. Ward off grief from your heart and put away trouble from your presence, though the dawn of youth is fleeting. Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come And the years approach of which you will say, I have no pleasure in them;

Before the sun is darkened, and the light, and the moon, and the stars, while the clouds return after the rain; When the guardians of the house tremble, and the strong men are bent, And the grinders are idle because they are few, and they who look through the windows grow blind; When the doors to the street are shut, and the sound of the mill is low; When one waits for the chirp of a bird, but all the daughters of song are suppressed; And one fears heights, and perils in the street; When the almond tree blooms, and the locust grows sluggish and the caper berry is without effect, Because man goes to his lasting home, and mourners go about the streets; Before the silver cord is snapped and the golden bowl is broken, And the pitcher is shattered at the spring, and the broken pulley falls into the well, And the dust returns to the earth as it once was, and the life breath returns to God who gave it. Vanity of vanities, says Qoheleth, all things are vanity!

Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 90:3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14 and 17

"In every age, O Lord, you have been our refuge."

Verse before the Gospel: 2 Timothy 1:10

R: Alleluia, Alleluia

"Our Savior Christ Jesus destroyed death and brought life to light through the Gospel."

R: Alleluia, Alleluia

**Gospel: Luke 9:43b-45

While they were all amazed at his every deed, Jesus said to his disciples, “Pay attention to what I am telling you. The Son of Man is to be handed over to men.” But they did not understand this saying; its meaning was hidden from them so that they should not understand it, and they were afraid to ask him about this saying.

Meditation:

Do you know the majesty of God? When we ascribe majesty to someone or something we acknowledge greatness in that person or thing and voice our respect for it. The miracles of Jesus revealed the awesome power and majesty of God and his favor and blessing (grace) - especially towards the lowly and humble of heart.

God's way to victory and glory is through the cross But with the miracles Jesus also gave a prophetic warning: There can be no share in God's glory without the cross. Jesus prophesied concerning his own betrayal and crucifixion - but it did not make any sense to the disciples because it did not fit their understanding of the Messiah who was supposed to come and free his people from tyranny and oppression. Little did they know that the way to victory over sin and death would be through the cross and resurrection of Christ.

Our fear of suffering betrays our lack of hope in Christ's victory When the disciples heard Jesus' prediction of suffering and betrayal they were afraid to ask further questions. Like a person who might receive bad news from the doctor about some tumor or disease that could destroy them and then refuse to ask any further questions, the disciples of Jesus didn't want to know any more about the consequences of possible suffering, defeat, and death on a cross. They couldn't understand how the cross could bring victory and lead to new life and freedom in Christ.

How often do we reject what we do not wish to see? We have heard God's word and we know the consequences of accepting it or rejecting it. But do we give it our full allegiance and mold our lives according to it? Ask the Lord Jesus to show you his majesty and glory that you may grow in reverence of him and in godly fear (reverence) of his word. Lord Jesus, by your cross you have redeemed the world and revealed your glory and triumph over sin and death. May I never fail to see your glory and victory in the cross. Help me to conform my life to your will and to follow in your way of love and holiness.

Sources:

Lectionary for Mass for use in the Dioceses of the United States, second typical edition, copyright (c) 2001, 1998, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine; Psalm refrain (c) 1968, 1981, 1997, international committee on english in the liturgy, Inc All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner

**Meditations may be freely reprinted and translated into other languages for non-profit use only. Please cite copyright and original source. Copyright 2021 Daily Scripture Readings and Meditation, dailyscripture.net author Don Schwager

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nostalgicatsea · 3 years

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The second episode of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier showed Bucky's white privilege, and I hope people acknowledge rather than ignore it just because it’s uncomfortable. I’ve already seen people do that or worse as mentioned in my previous post.

Bucky is a great example that it’s not only evil people or people we dislike but also good people—people we count as allies or even friends—who benefit from whiteness. I would rather have that instead of some sanitized “woke ally” Bucky who can never do wrong. Bucky is human and like everyone else, he has room to learn and grow. That's better than insisting he would be woke about everything.

Just by existing, both Sam and Bucky are affected by systemic racism. Sam is oppressed and Bucky benefits, however passively or actively. We see that play out in several ways with Bucky this episode because he:

doesn't understand the situation with the cops and even though you can talk about the way that Bucky is treated by the government and law enforcement, you can't ignore how the cops gently guide him into the car and treat him with respect, apologizing, calling him "Mr. Barnes," and showing how reluctant they are to take him in

berates Sam for Sam's decision to give up the shield when, as Sam says, he has no right to tell Sam what he should do and neither Bucky nor Steve would understand

doesn't, in fact, get Sam's decision and makes the situation about Steve and himself. Is it understandable that he does? Yes. Does it change the fact that he makes it about himself rather than think about Sam's position? No

totally misreads how Sam would feel about seeing Isaiah or how it would affect Isaiah to talk about his trauma

most likely didn't consider the possibility that Isaiah is a victim of the government, not just a man affected by war or his time as a supersoldier

got therapy and a nice enough apartment unlike Isaiah who didn't get any help or any apology or redress for the wrongs committed against him: being experimented on, imprisoned for three decades, and exploited and harmed by both the U.S. government and Hydra throughout those years

Bucky wasn't intentionally being ignorant or trying to hurt anyone, but it doesn't matter. It's because of his white privilege that he's afforded better treatment than Sam and Isaiah. It's because of his white privilege that he has never had to think about what it's like to be them. He doesn't read the situation with the cops properly, and if his and Sam's situations were reversed, Sam most likely would have been assaulted or shot and killed at worst or roughly manhandled at best. He wrongly assumed that it wouldn’t bother Sam to meet Isaiah or thought it would only make him uncomfortable, probably no more uncomfortable than Bucky was about Isaiah’s situation. (Why he thinks talking to Isaiah will help, I don’t understand. It's not like Isaiah would have information about supersoldiers that Bucky, a supersoldier himself, wouldn't or information about the Flag Smashers. That group appeared recently. The Korean War was 70–73 years ago, and most likely Isaiah got out of prison in the ‘80s or ‘90s, depending on how long he was active after the war, decades before 2023.)

It all backfires because Bucky didn't know what happened to Isaiah. He vaguely knew that Isaiah had a rough time but didn't know the details; you can tell he didn’t by how he reacts to Isaiah's story. He didn't think of asking Isaiah how he got his powers and what happened to him after the war before showing up at his house.

Bucky made huge assumptions that ended up hurting Isaiah and Sam, good intentions or not, and in my opinion, that naïveté and ignorance stem from white privilege. He probably assumed that Isaiah volunteered to get the serum and it worked out because Isaiah was a good person and the U.S. were the "good guys" in the war. They weren't Hydra, and Isaiah was a U.S. soldier who fought against him when he was the Winter Soldier. It never crossed his mind that Isaiah's situation could have been drastically different from Steve's situation and that the U.S. government could have abused and abandoned a hero like Isaiah so badly.

Although this is a big extrapolation on my part, I don't think it's that much of a stretch to say. Had Bucky thought this was the case, I find it extremely unlikely that he would have brought Sam there or wanted to bother Isaiah, at least without advance warning. If anything, as @fahbee mentioned in their reblog of the original, unedited version of this post, he might have looked at the gap in Isaiah’s life when he was in prison and assumed that Hydra or some other evil entity had captured and held Isaiah as a POW during that time. That is, if there was a gap; that’s plausible, but it’s also plausible that Isaiah was imprisoned under false charges and those charges appear on his record. The government has done that and still does that to many black people in real life. Either way, Bucky never would have thought that the U.S. government was responsible for Isaiah’s suffering.

Meanwhile, even though Sam is shaken to discover that a black supersoldier existed decades ago, I don't think he finds what happened to Isaiah surprising. Consider his reaction to Bucky’s when Isaiah tells them what happened and the fact that the U.S. has a history of experimenting on, exploiting, and abusing black men. Sam sees what the U.S. government did to a black man they experimented on and used, and he's broken over Isaiah...and for himself.

Isaiah is the living embodiment of Sam's conflicted feelings about the U.S. and the Captain America title. Who's to say that that won't be Sam too when they don't want or need him anymore? How can Sam be the symbol of a country who has harmed and continues to harm people like him? There's so much grief, pain, and anger there versus Bucky's cluelessness. Even after their meeting with Isaiah when he and Sam are in the therapy session together, Bucky doesn't connect the dots or understand Sam's feelings and inner turmoil at all.

As I said, I love how they included Bucky's white privilege because sometimes, it's not always as obvious as a white banker refusing to give a black family a loan or cops treating an innocent black man as a threat and escalating the situation (though sadly, some people have managed to miss even these overt examples of racism). Sometimes it's what I said above. I would rather see Bucky learn and grapple with racism and white privilege than see performative wokeness or an innate, intuitive understanding of racism in all its forms.

How Bucky moves in the world is different from how Sam does, and it serves as another way to demonstrate how Sam is very much black in this universe. That's why you can't ignore, minimize, or attempt to change (do NOT give me what-if scenarios about Bucky being a white ally) Bucky's actions and thoughts as well as how the world treats him because The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is very much a series about what it means to be black in America and what it means for Sam, a black man, to become Captain America.

#sam wilson #bucky barnes #meta #tfatws spoilers

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kaile-hultner · 3 years

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Nihilism is so easy, which is why we need to kill it

(I initially published this here a couple weeks ago.)

So last night it dawned on me that, after over two years of being relatively symptom-free, my depression snuck back up on me and has taken over. It’s still pretty mild in comparison to other times I’ve been stuck in the hole, but after 24 months (and more) of mostly being good to go, I can tell that it’s here for a hot minute again.

How do I know? Well, it might be the fact that I spent more time sleeping during my recent vacation from work than I did just about anything else, and how it’s suddenly really hard for me to stay awake during work hours. I don’t really have an appetite, and in fact nausea hits me frequently. I don’t really have any emotional reactions to things outside of tears, even when tears aren’t super appropriate to the situation (like watching someone play Outer Wilds for the first time). And I’ve been consuming a lot of apocalyptic media, to which the only response, emotional or otherwise, I can really muster is “dude same.”

For a long time I was huge into absurdist philosophy, because it felt to my depressed brain like just the right balance between straight up denying that things are bad (and thus we should fix them, or at least try to do so) and full-blown nihilism. This gives absurdism a lot of credit; mostly it’s just a loose set of spicy existentialist ideas and shit that sounds good on a sticker, like “The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”

In the last couple years, while outside of my depressive state, I went back to Camus’ work and found a lot of almost full-on abusive shit in it. Not toward anyone specifically, but shit like “nobody and nothing will care if you’re gone, so live out of spite of them all” rubs me the wrong way in retrospect. The philosophy Camus puts out opens the door for living in a very self-destructive fashion; that in fact the good life is living without care for yourself or anyone/anything else. The way Camus describes and derides suicide especially is grim as fuck, and certainly I would never recommend The Myth of Sisyphus to anyone currently struggling with ideation. That “perfect balance” between denial and nihilism is really not that perfect at all, and in fact skews much more heavily towards the latter.

Neon Genesis Evangelion has been a big albatross around my neck in terms of the media products I’ve consumed in my life that I believe have influenced my depression hardcore. It sits in a similar conversational space to Camus’ work, in that it confronts nihilism and at once rejects and facilitates it. A lot of folks remark that Evangelion is pretty unique – or at least uncommon – in its accurate portrayal of depression, especially for mid-90s anime properties. The thing I notice always seems to be missing in these discussions is that along with that accurate portrayal comes a spot-on – to me, at least – depiction of what depression does to resist being treated. This is a disease that uses a person’s rational faculties to suggest that nobody else could possibly understand their pain, and therefore there’s no use in getting better or moving forward. Shinji Ikari is as self-centered as Hideaki Anno is as I am when it comes to confronting the truth: there are paths out of this hole, but nobody else can take that step out but us, and part of our illness is that refusal to do just that. Depression lies, it provides a cold comfort to the sufferer, that there is no existence other than the one where we are in pain and there is no way out, so pull the blanket up over our head and go back to sleep.

Watching Evangelion for the first time corresponded with the onset of one of the worst depressive spirals I’ve ever been in, and so, much like the time I got a stomach virus at the same time that I ate Arby’s curly fries, I kind of can’t associate Evangelion with anything else. No matter what else it might signify, no matter what other meaning there is to derive from it, for me Eva is the Bad Feeling Anime™. Which is why, naturally, I had to binge all four of the Evangelion theatrical releases upon the release of Evangelion 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon A Time last month.

If Neon Genesis Evangelion and End of Evangelion are works produced by someone with untreated depression just fucking rawdogging existence, then the Eva movies are works produced by someone who has gone to therapy even just one fucking time. Whether that therapy is working or not is to be determined, but they have taken that step out of the hole and are able to believe that there is a possibility of living a depression-free life. The first 40 minutes or so of Evangelion 3.0+1.0 are perfect cinema to me. The world is destroyed but there is a way to bring it back. Restoration and existence is possible even when the surface of the planet might as well be the surface of the Moon. The only thing about this is, everyone has to be on board to help. Even though WILLE fired one of its special de-corefication devices into the ground to give the residents of Village 3 a chance at survival, the maintenance of this pocket ecosystem is actively their responsibility. There is no room or time for people who won’t actively contribute, won’t actively participate in making a better world from the ashes of the old.

There are a lot of essentialist claims and assumptions made by the film in this first act about how the body interacts with the social – the concept of disability itself just doesn’t seem to have made it into the ring of safety provided by Misato and the Wunder, which seems frankly wild to me, and women are almost singularly portrayed in traditionalist support roles while men are the doers and the fixers and the makers. I think it’s worth raising a skeptical eyebrow at this trad conservative “back to old ways” expression of the post-apocalypse wherever it comes up, just as it’s important to acknowledge where the movie pushes back on these themes, like when Toji (or possibly Kensuke) is telling Shinji that, despite all the hard work everyone is doing like farming and building, the village is far from self-sufficient and will likely always rely on provisions from the Wunder.

As idyllic as the setting is, it’s not the ideal. As Shinji emerges from his catatonia, Kensuke takes him around the village perimeter. It’s quiet, rural Japan as far as the eye can see, but everywhere there are contingencies; rationing means Kensuke can only catch one fish a week, all the entry points where flowing water comes into the radius of the de-corefication devices have to be checked for blockages because the water supply will run out. There is a looming possibility that the de-corefication machines could break or shut down at some point, and nobody knows what will happen when that happens. On the perimeter, lumbering, pilot-less and headless Eva units shuffle around; it is unknown whether they’re horrors endlessly biding their time or simply ghosts looking to reconnect to the ember of humanity on the other side of the wall. Survival is always an open question, and mutual aid is the expectation. Still: the apocalypse happened, and we’re still here. The question Village 3 answers is “what now?” We move on, we adapt.

Evangelion is still a work that does its level best to defy easy interpretation, but the modern version of the franchise has largely abandoned the nihilism that was at its core in the 90s version. It’s not just that Shinji no longer denies the world until the last possible second – it’s that he frequently actively reaches out and is frustrated by other people’s denials. He wants to connect, he wants to be social, but he’s also burdened with the idea that he’s only good to others if he’s useful, and he’s only useful if he pilots the Eva unit. This last movie separates him and what he is worth to others (and himself) from his agency in being an Eva pilot, finally. In doing so, he’s able to reconcile with nearly everyone in his life who he has harmed or who has hurt him, and create a world in which there is no Evangelion. While this ending is much more wishful thinking than one more grounded in the reality of the franchise – one that, say, focuses on the existence and possible flourishing of Village 3 and other settlements like it while keeping one eye on the precarious balancing act they’re all playing – it feels better than the ending of End of Eva, and even than the last two episodes of the original series.

I’m glad the nihilism in Evangelion is gone, for the most part. I’m glad that I didn’t spend roughly eight hours watching the Evamovies only to be met yet again with a message of “everything is pointless, fuck off and die.” Because I’ve been absorbing that sentiment a lot lately, from a lot of different sources, and it really just fuckin sucks to hear over and over again.

It is a truth we can’t easily ignore that the confluence of pandemic, climate change, authoritarian surge and capitalist decay has made shit miserable recently. But the spike in lamentations over the intractability of this mix of shit – the inevitability of our destruction, to put it in simpler terms – really is pissing me off. No one person is going to fix the world, that much is absolutely true, but if everyone just goes limp and decides to “123 not it” the apocalypse then everyone crying about how the world is fucked on Twitter will simply be adding to the opening bars of a self-fulfilling prophesy.

We can’t get in a mech to save the world but then, neither realistically could Shinji Ikari. What we can do looks a lot more like what’s being done in Village 3: people helping each other with limited resources wherever they can.

Last week, Hurricane Ida slammed into the Gulf Coast and churned there for hours – decimating Bayou communities in Louisiana and disrupting the supply chain extensively – before powering down and moving inland. Last night the powerful remnants of that storm tore through the Northeast, causing intense flooding. Areas not typically affected by hurricanes suddenly found themselves in a similar boat – pun not intended – to folks for whom hurricanes are simply a fact of life. There’s a once-in-a-millennium drought and heatwave ripping through the West Coast and hey – who can forget back in February when Oklahoma and Texas experienced -20 degree temperatures for several days in a row? All of this against the backdrop of a deadly and terrifying pandemic and worsening political climate. It’s genuinely scary! But there are things we can do.

First, if you’re in a weather disaster-prone area, get to know your local mutual aid organizations. Some of these groups might be official non-profits; one such group in the Louisiana area, for example, is Common Ground Relief. Check their social media accounts for updates on what to do and who needs help. If you’re not sure if there’s one in your area, check out groups like Mutual Aid Disaster Relief for that same information. Even if you’re not in a place that expects to see the immediate effects of climate change, you should still consider linking up with organizing groups in your area. Tenant unions, homeless organizations, safe injection sites and needle exchanges, immigrant rights groups, environmental activist orgs, reproductive health groups – all could use some help right now, in whatever capacity you might be able to provide it.

In none of these scenarios are we going to be the heroes of the story, and we shouldn’t view this kind of work in that way. But neither should we give into the nihilistic impulse to insist upon doing nothing, insist that inaction is the best course of action, and get back under the blankets for our final sleep. Kill that impulse in your head, and fuck, if you have to, simply just fucking wish for that better world. Then get out of bed and help make it happen.

#Neon Genesis Evangelion #existentialism #philosophy #media criticism #cultural criticism #spoilers

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kmomof4 · 3 years

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CS AU- Coming to Storybrooke (1/5)

It’s FINALLY here!!!!!! I’ve only been talking about this fic for over a YEAR!!! I’m so excited to finally share it with all of you!!!

I have to acknowledge and send all the love and internet hugs to all those who helped me with this fic. I can truly say that I would have given up on it LONG AGO without them.

First to @hollyethecurious. She was my brainstorming partner and never-ending fount of encouragement. She pulled me back from the brink of deleting this fic entirely so many times. So when I say that this fic wouldn’t be here without her, I’m not exaggerating.

Second to @profdanglaisstuff. The best beta in the world!!!! Her suggestions and insights make this writing business so much better! Thank you, babe!

And finally to all the ladies on the @captainswanmoviemarathon discord. Y’all’s encouragement and sprinting dates helped keep me motivated and got me over the finish line.

This fic is a S1 Canon Divergence, sort of, inspired by the 1988 Eddie Murphy movie Coming to America. It is complete with five chapters and I’ll be updating every Saturday.

Fic Summary: Prince Killian of the Enchanted Forest refuses to marry the woman that his brother has chosen for him, so he travels to Storybrooke in the Land Without Magic to find his own bride.

Rating: T for some strong language

Words: Ch1 2224 of 18K Total

Tags: S1 Canon Divergence, Inspired by Coming to America, Neal is an idiot, romantic fluff

AO3 Link

Tag LIst: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @xsajx @klynn-stormz @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert @elizabeethan @xhookswenchx @gingerpolyglot @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @sailtoafarawayland @justanother-unluckysoul @veryverynotgoodwrites @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it

Ch1

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” David whispered, awestruck.

Tears filled his eyes as he looked through the door at his other True Love. The little girl sat cross legged on the bed and slowly turned a page of the book in front of her.

David stared, dumbfounded, as a firm resolve filled him.

“We can’t waste another second,” he stated, vehemently. “We can’t wait another second.” He took a step toward the door when Snow’s softly spoken wait stopped him. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at his wife.

Her eyes were glued to their daughter until they skittered away to their surroundings and the door in front of them. Anywhere but at him.

“We can’t go through there.”

David was stunned, incredulity coloring his features. “Snow, we have to.”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “If we go through that door, Emma will never become the savior.”

He turned back to the open door. To his daughter. He was heartbroken. He knew exactly what Snow was thinking. If they went through that door, they condemned their subjects, their friends, their family, to live under Regina’s curse, separated from their own loved ones, forever. But that couldn’t be true. Rumplestiltskin said to keep the child safe and she would return on her 28th birthday. No mention was made about the circumstances of her return, only that she would.

“She’ll have a new destiny.” He looked at Snow again. “With us. We will teach her. We will tell her everything. And when her 28th birthday arrives, we’ll all come back and she will break the curse.”

Snow’s tear filled eyes finally turned to him. “How do you know?”

“This family finds each other. We’ve found each other,” he said, taking her hands. He tilted his head slightly toward the open door, “We’ve found Emma. We will find the rest of our family when it’s time for her to break the curse.”

He saw the moment doubt was swallowed up by hope in her eyes. With a small nod and a smile, they turned and walked through the door.

Together.

~*~*~*~

18 years later

Emma Swan sat in the back seat of the family SUV with her brother Leo as they sped through the backwoods of rural Maine toward an uncertain and possibly perilous future. It was her 28th birthday and it was the day that her parents had been preparing her for ever since they came through the closet door to claim her so long ago.

The scenery outside her window went hazy around the edges as she got lost in the memory of the first time she met her parents. She hadn’t been frightened when these two strangers entered her bedroom through her closet door. Something about them seemed familiar. She knew in her marrow that she could trust them and when the woman fell to her knees with tears in her eyes, her arms open wide, and calling her name, Emma hadn’t hesitated to run into them. She rose to her feet with Emma held tightly in her arms, sobbing into her hair and placing kisses all over her face. Emma only caught snippets of what the woman was saying, but the words I’m your mom, I love you, we’ll never leave you, we’ll always be together sent Emma’s heart soaring. It was exactly what this little lost girl had always longed to hear. The man wrapped one arm around them both and cupped the back of her head with the other. She had never felt so safe and loved in all her life.

Now all these years later, it was time to fulfill her destiny. It wasn’t long after their reunion that they settled in Portland, Maine and her parents told her a story. A story through the pages of the book that her mother had brought through the door with her. A story that was more than just a fantasy. It was true. All of it. It was their story. It was her story. The story of where she came from… and what she was meant to do. Beginning with the day she was born, her parents told her why they had to get her to safety. How Doc of the Seven Dwarves delivered her only minutes before her father placed her in the magical wardrobe and the queen’s curse swept over the land. From there, they told her the true story of how Snow White and Prince Charming met and fell in love - very different from the Disney version - her mother’s history with the Evil Queen and how her father came to be in the position to even meet his True Love. She’d become intimately familiar with all the true stories in the book as she grew up, first her, then her brother Leo, and now it was time for her to save them all. She had to admit to being rather nervous about it. It was one thing to hear the story from her parents and believe it because of how young she was and because she trusted them. But it was entirely different to be a grown woman and solely responsible for bringing back all the happy endings for real people that her parents knew and loved. She was about to see everything from the storybook come to life.

Suddenly, her mother’s excited voice from the front seat roused her from her musings.

“There it is, David!” she exclaimed. “The town line!”

“I see it, I see it,” he replied.

Moments later, they crossed the town line and a chill passed over Emma’s entire body before something exploded out of her that nearly made her dad lose control of the car.

“What the hell was that?” Emma cried as her mom and brother shouted in alarm. She reached toward Leo’s shoulder while her other hand tried to find purchase on the door handle as her dad brought the car back under control. She looked out the window and saw a white shimmering something traveling across the sky toward the town. She saw her mom, dad, and brother craning their necks to see it too.

“I think…” her mom began, “that you just broke the curse, honey.”

“That’s it?” she asked, incredulous. “Just crossing the town line? That was all it took?”

“Apparently so,” her dad answered. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t still have to be on our guard.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened and his brow furrowed. “We don’t know what we’re going to find when we get to town. Regina and the Dark One are presumably still here somewhere.”

Silence reigned as they continued to drive toward the center of town in the direction of the white blast. A few minutes later, they turned onto the main street of the small town. Filling the street in front of them, people were laughing and hugging each other in reunions that were 28 years overdue. Her dad slammed on the brakes as her mom cried out, her hands flying to her mouth.

“Ruby! Granny!” She bolted from the car and ran toward a leggy brunette and older matronly woman. Emma could see the surprised joy on their faces as they turned and ran toward her mother. Emma and Leo got out slowly as their dad ran toward his wife as she embraced the two women. They approached the reunited and happy foursome just as seven men got their mom’s attention. Wide grins broke out on Emma and Leo’s faces as realization came over them. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. Emma could hear her mom’s sobs as she tried to embrace them all at once. Once she’d finished greeting her dearest and oldest friends, her mom turned toward them.

“Everyone,” she began, “these are our children.” Her mom motioned them closer. “Emma and Leo.” Her brother suddenly looked quite different from the brash and bold teenager she knew. He looked equal parts dumbfounded and like he’d like to melt into the ground. Her father didn’t miss a beat. He grabbed his son’s shoulder and started introducing him individually to the dwarves, placing his arm around him.

“Emma?” asked Granny, drawing her attention again. “The Savior?” The old woman took steps toward Emma and tenderly cupped her face with her hands before kissing her on the cheek and drawing her into a hug. Emma knew the elderly woman from the storybook, but to be held in her arms in love and acceptance was nearly as good as the hug she received from her parents when they came for her.

“Papa,” another man further up the street shouted. He ran toward an older man that was walking toward the group with the aid of a cane.

The man turned, his face infused with disbelieving joy as the cane dropped and he took a hesitant step toward the other man. “Bae?”

Emma could feel the tears forming in her eyes as the men embraced each other. She had done this. She was the savior and she had given all these people the happy endings that the Evil Queen had taken away all because she refused to place the blame for the death of her love where it truly belonged. She turned back toward the crowd again as more reunions were taking place. She saw her parents embracing a red haired man with a dalmatian. Jiminy Cricket, she remembered.

Just at that moment, a joyous cry reached their ears and they all turned toward the sound. A young woman with wild brown hair and wearing nothing more than a dirty white shift ran toward the still embracing men as she launched herself into the older man’s arms and kissed him. A rainbow blast burst from them startling everyone gathered. They separated as the blast flew through the air and yet also concentrated around the man. The young woman’s eyes grew wide as the rainbow light grew brighter and brighter around him before finally fading away to nothing. The man had tears running down his cheeks as he reached for the young woman again. Emma watched her melt into his arms and could just hear him murmur, “Belle. It’s gone. You saved me.” The kiss they shared made Emma’s cheeks flame as she turned toward her dad.

“Huh,” he said. “Rumplestiltskin has a True Love. Who would have thought that?”

The couple separated again and the man she now knew was Rumplestiltskin, the practitioner of the darkest magic in the realm, the man that she had always thought of as the puppet master, since he seemed to have a part in every single story in the book, gathered both the young woman and the younger man to him as the three made their way toward their own group.

“Dark One,” her dad greeted the man with a curt nod.

“No more,” he answered, raising his chin just a bit. “Belle’s True Love’s Kiss just destroyed the Darkness. With my son here, I was ready to let go of the Darkness and find my happiness with my family beside me.”

Then a stately woman in a nun’s habit approached them.

“Your highnesses,” she began with a bow, “the curse is indeed broken. As is the Darkness that made the Dark One.”

Her dad reached out and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Blue,” he said. “Thank you.” He turned back toward the crowd and raised his voice in an exuberant shout. “The curse is broken and the Darkness is no more!” The gathered crowd cheered along with him. Emma wiped away her tears and met the eyes of the man that had embraced the former Dark One. His eyes twinkled as he grinned broadly at her. She felt her heart rate increase and cheeks flush again as she turned her eyes back toward her parents.

It was moments later when she felt a presence at her back. She turned around and found herself captured by a pair of laughing brown eyes.

“Neal,” he said, holding his hand out for her to shake. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as if a sudden headache had come over him. “Baelfire. Neal Cassidy was my cursed name. But you can call me whatever you want.” He smiled again.

She took his hand and smiled back. “Emma,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you, Neal.”

She could see her mom and brother over Neal’s shoulder exchange a stern and sheepish look. She knew that Leo, at 17, would love nothing more than to tease her about the man in front of her, but thankfully, their mother caught his eye before he could. She rolled her eyes at them before directing her attention back to him.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, “for uh, breaking the curse.” She couldn’t help but smile wider at his clumsy attempts to make small talk.

“You’re welcome?” she answered, with a shrug. “I mean, I didn’t really do anything, just crossed the town line…” she trailed away.

“But, I m-mean,” he stammered, “it was more than that. You…” he shrugged helplessly, apparently at a loss for what to say next. “Listen,” he said, brightening, “Could I show you around town? Maybe buy you a cup of coffee?”

Emma grinned widely. “I’d like that.” She looped her arm through his and he led her away from the rest of the crowd.

#coming to storybrooke #krystal writes #ch1 #inspired by coming to america #cs ff

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transsexualbloodlust · 3 years

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i keep seeing posts about how jackles isn't homophobic but it's actually weirder and i get that he isn't homophobic and he's just got weird stuff going on but i don't know what the weird stuff...is? sorry if this is the wrong place but i was hoping someone could explain it to me lol

oh FUCK yeah, my brain thrives off of explaining spn stuff, okay someone pls correct me if i’m wrong but let’s get into the LoreTM

Okay so Jackles is almost definitely not homophobic, he played a bi poly character for a while, i don’t remember the name of the show but it was pre spn so like it was 90’s/early 2000’s

anyway,

stuff starts getting weird since season 1, because like there’s no real explanation for his acting choices other than that he was actively making dean seem gayer. Like the scene where sam says that dean is “kind of butch,” dean is supposed to tell sam to fuck off, and instead we get this weird smile thing to suggest that he is, as sam says, overcompensating for something?? And then Cas comes in and it’s like he has insane amounts of chemistry with this man and Continues to actively make things gayer. like all of the face touches we saw?? a jackles jacting joices they usually weren’t in the script, like editors had to cut stuff out because jensen was making his scenes with cas too gay.

And all of this could definitely be like normal behavior BUT

He’s always been vocal about opposing Gay/Bi readings of deans, the most recent on being 2 0 1 8, like fucking 2018???? (that was the ?No. situation). I mean his distaste for bi dean is obviously to the point where they had to ask his permission for cas to be gay around dean and like it DOESNT MAKE SENSE. Why would he play dean as gayer and then not follow through???? why sow and not reap????

and the idea is that it probably comes down to a mixture of 2-3 things:

1) his first interaction with shipping involved death threats and wincesties generally being awful to him and his wife so i can definitely see that making u never want to discuss shipping ever again and a lot of bi/gay readings of dean involve destiel, this is the most likely offender. Especially since it became one of and eventually The biggest ship on the show

2) as u may know he is a dean kinnie, he’s shown (and talked about it) time and time again that he can’t really view dean from a third party perspective and only understands what dean understands, and fundamentally dean is probably not aware that he is bi and in love with cas, so jackles isn’t. I genuinly do think this one hold merit because that man needs therapy but it is on the insane side

3) i’m sorry for this but we have to mention rpf/s, essentially the theory is that jensen and misha r together and jackles got scared of people realizing either that he likes misha or that he likes men, i think there’s something to be said about cockles but i think it’s more likely that he accidentally played dean as bi and then got insecure about people finding out something about him because as I said, dean kinnie.

anyway the tldr is that it’s weird because he plays dean as bi in like very obvious ways but like refuses to acknowledge it because it hits too close to home wich is incredibly funny of him

#cockles #destiel #hopefully this was everything???

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im-some-lionheart · 3 years

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Dean Winchester is bisexual as fuck headcanons:

Dean has always known he's bisexual. He probably didn't even know bisexuality was A Thing until he was in his 30s though.

And he probably hated putting a label on it. But he knew he liked boys as well as girls since forever.

When he was younger, he probably thought everyone else liked everyone too because "people are hot. why wouldn't you like people?" (13 yo dean, probably)

Teen!Dean cuffed his jeans. I don't have neither proofs nor doubts about this one.

He learned about and internalized homophobia later in his teens. Probably at school, or from John's and other hunters' remarks and jokes. Or both.

He probably thought to himself "well, at least I like girls too, so it's not as bad, I'm not actually queer." and proceeded to suppress his feelings for boys and over compensate because he didn't want to be outed as something that he wasn't. He wasn't gay. He was just him. And people were hot. So he liked people.

Of course, he eventually dated guys in school, but it was always in secrecy, always as friends, always while publicly making out with a cheerleader (a bonus in immature dean's brain). It was the 90s in Middle America. It couldn't have been otherwise.

In some schools though, word caught on, and it was hell for him. He learned soon to keep that side of him hidden from privy eyes if he wanted to be left alone.

John caught him making out with a guy at least once. He might have punched Dean, give the guy time to gather his clothes and run for his live, and gone for a drink. Or. He might have stood there, staring at his son, ask the kid to leave please, and walked out of the room without saying another word. (or it happened twice and he did both)

Either way, he told Sam and Dean to pack their stuff and moved them to another city the very next day, giving Dean no chance to say goodbye.

Dean bi!panicked and tried to explain, but John refused to listen. Refused to even acknowledge what had happened. Every time Dean started "dad, about what you saw...", John would cut him off and remind him of his mission: watch out for Sammy.

He made sure next time his father came home, he found him with a girl instead. John didn't say a word to him either way, but he was polite to the girls.

Dean eventually mastered the art of flirting subtly, walking perfectly that line between figuring out if a guy was into him and outing himself into being beaten senseless.

He walked that line masterfully for years hunting with John and then, later on, with Sam. Neither noticed when he'd come home late after they'd interrogated a particularly handsome suspect.

He always made sure they noticed when he'd come home late, when the suspect was a particularly beautiful girl.

He may or may not have learned to walk that line by being beaten senseless a couple of times.

When he saw Lisa again, he couldn't believe she was still as beautiful as he remembered her.

He cried when he told Lisa he was bi. He kept thinking "she needs to know" and made a whole deal of telling her, dragging the words for half an hour. She just smiled and kissed him and held him as he cried. That was the first night he thought he loved her.

A part of him wished he was actually Ben's father. A large part of him always regretted not being able to have or truly enjoy that apple-pie life.

He knew Jo was bi too since the moment he saw her. They bonded over it. They may or may not have made out once.

He absolutely 100% had A Thing™ with Benny in Purgatory

He absolutely 100% had a threesome with himself and Cas from 2014.

He absolutely 100% had orgies with Crowley when he was a demon

There's a 50% chance he had 1on1 sex with Crowley.

He always thought Jimmy Novak was hot but he didn't begin to fall for Cas until around s6-7

His subtle brand of flirting didn't work with Cas immediately like it had worked with Anna, Benny, and so many other people and creatures he'd met throughout his life, so he just dropped it.

Dean's flirting didn't work because the angel was really bad at social interactions not because he didn't like Dean back, but he wasn't sure so he never dared do anything more than just flirt, out of both trauma and fear of being rejected by his best friend.

He jerks off while smelling the trenchcoat in s8 at least once. He, of course, cries immediately afterwards.

He sees the world around him become increasingly more progressive and he loves it. He'd never come out or go to a parade or get married but he loves that other people can have those options.

He never tells Sam how he feels about men/Cas in particular because why would he risk losing his brother's love and respect like that?

A part of him knows Sam won't care, he's still his brother. But the other part never left that motel room where John caught him making out with his friend.

He's convinced himself he doesn't need to tell anybody because it's his life and who gives a shit. He doesn't need to prove anything.

He eventually gets used to his and Cas' relationship. He loves the dynamic they have, and though he sometimes wishes he could just ravage the angel, he knows it's not an option. So he accepts it and learns to enjoy their relationship for what it is: strictly platonic. So he stops flirting and accepts Cas as his best friend. Nothing more.

This means, he's furious when Cas confesses to him. Of course you'd do this when it's already too late you son of a bitch.

In the middle of the tears and the anger and the regret, he manages to say "and I you, Cas" and his heart breaks when the portal opens, which means those words brought Cas true happiness.

He tries to move on without the angel but it isn't easy. He eventually finds an excuse to die quickly. Some dumb hunt his daddy never finished. Sure, that'll do.

When he finally hears the words "Hello, Dean" once again, he knows himself the happiest man on Earth Heaven.

#i may or may not #Be projecting #Dean Winchester #bisexual dean winchester #bi!dean #spn #supernatural #destiel in heaven #destiel is fucking canon #Dean is so bi it hurts #Dean is bi #dean is bi in spanish #Dean headcanons #Headcanons #supernatural headcanon #destiel headcanons

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psychosistr · 3 years

Photo

Steelbeak fankid- Valentino

Behold, my Steelbeak OC fankid! Art by @thefriendlyfour , full bio below the cut!

Physical Description: A young American-curl breed of cat with the breed’s signature curled-back ears and a medium-thick coat of black fur across his lanky body- minus a white heart-shaped spot on his torso which is usually hidden by his clothes- and is still a bit short for his age, with the tops of his ears stopping just below Steelbeak’s chest. Lost his tail when he was little, so he only has a small stump left of it until he gets adopted and his dad has Dr.Rose Gold make a prosthetic one for him that’s made of steel like his dad’s beak. Has amber colored eyes that, when paired with his breed’s curled back ears, tend to make him look like a devil when he grins or laughs maliciously.

Outfit: He’ll never admit it out loud, but he admires his dad’s sense of style and tries to mimic him while still making it his own. Wears a white button-up shirt with whitish-silver buttons and three-quarter style sleeves, a red western-style bow tie, a red vest with silver buttons that’s left mostly open with a small grey paw print pattern along the button holes and a larger paw print on the back, a black leather belt with a silver buckle, and black slacks with a white waistband that blends in with his shirt and pockets lined with silver studs.

Gender: Demiboy that usually goes by male pronouns because it’s easier for others to understand, but appreciates it when others ask him if/acknowledge when he prefers using other pronouns.

Sexual Orientation: Still figuring it out since he’s young, but so far has a preference for boys given a few of his past crushes.

Age: 14

Nicknames: Val, Stumpy, Devil Cat, King, Fluffy.

Val is his preferred nickname and what most people end up calling him.

The middle three are names used by his gang and their enemies.

Stumpy= Mean-spirited nickname regarding his missing tail.

Devil Cat= How people see him when he’s grinning and showing off his sharp teeth with his fiery eyes and curled ears that look like devil horns.

King= His title within his gang and what most of his underlings call him.

Fluffy= Used exclusively by Steelbeak and he knows Valentino hates it.

Real Name: Valentino was given his name after being adopted by Steelbeak and, as far as he’s concerned, that is his real name.

Had another name he was called while in foster care, but refuses to say what it was and would refuse to answer to it if anyone ever called him that.

Background:

Abandoned as an infant and found in a cardboard box in an alleyway in the middle of winter- he was very sick from it and his survival was questionable for several weeks following his rescue.

Spent his early years in and out of foster homes and orphanages all over St Canard. This gave him a pretty cynical view about people in general after a while since they always ended up giving him back for being a “problem child” or he’d run away because he didn’t like the way he was treated.

The “problem child” comments were from him doing things like taking stuff, hoarding food, not obeying orders, and questioning authority.

The times he’d run away ranged from him finding the people annoying to cases of actual neglect or abuse-the worst experience being when his tail was purposefully slammed in a door and he wasn’t taken to the doctor until it was beyond saving and had to be amputated off.

No one ever believed him about the incident since he was the “problem child”.

Despite his personal experiences, he knows there are good foster homes and orphanages out there- he just ended up dealing with the worst of the worst in St Canard.

By the time he was eleven, he’d had enough of being caught in the city’s toxic foster care system and ran away to start a life for himself on the streets.

Ended up forming a gang with other kids and teenagers he’d met from his time in foster care, quickly taking the lead-role since he was smart for his age and good at coordinating/planning raids, pickpocketing without getting caught, memorizing police patrol routes, dividing loot appropriately, and intimidating others into listening to him.

The gang was called “The Broken Pawns”, with the higher-ranking members all having chess-related titles- he was the King.

One day, his gang executed a raid on a store that turned out to be a secret SHUSH base and they unknowingly stole some boxes containing flash-drives/SD-cards full of confidential files. They didn’t know this, though, and were extremely confused about why they suddenly had a bunch of men in suits chasing them down.

While running away, he ended up bumping into Steelbeak. The chief officer was confused about why SHUSH would target a kid, but got roped into a fight with them to avoid getting caught himself. After fighting them off, he questioned the kid and figured he must have stumbled onto something REALLY valuable to SHUSH and wanted to get his hands on it.

The kid wasn’t a fool, though, and worked out a deal with Steelbeak: His gang had a protocol when chased by higher-up authorities after a raid that involved them splitting up and remaining separated with no contact for a while to avoid everyone getting caught, so it would take a few weeks for them to get all of the boxes that were taken from the SHUSH base together again. The kid wasn’t very good at fighting on his own, so Steelbeak would protect him while they waited for the rest of the boxes to arrive at his base and he’d stay at Steelbeak’s home so Steelbeak could make sure the kid didn’t try to run away or double-cross him. Once he got what he wanted from the boxes the gang stole, Steelbeak would let them keep any other valuables and he’d part ways with the kid once he got his share.

Steelbeak agreed to the terms of the deal, though he originally planned to just double-cross or ditch the kid after he got what he wanted and either take everything or let SHUSH take him. After a while, though, he found himself getting attached to the kid because he reminded him so much of himself at that age- scrappy, conniving, clever, distrusting of others, and one heck of a pickpocket.

After a few weeks of living together, teaching the kid things like cooking, saving him a few times, and just general bonding with him, Steelbeak decided he liked the kid and wanted to keep him around and the kid, oddly, felt the same- it was weird for him to have an adult that treated him with respect without trying to change him or discourage him from doing stuff like stealing or lying. They talked it over and Steelbeak ended up adopting him, naming the kid Valentino after his deceased father.

Current Status: Lives with Steelbeak and attends school during weekdays while still running his gang after school and on the weekends when he doesn’t have plans with his dad.

Personality:

Valentino generally has a cynical and antisocial attitude towards most people, usually finding them boring or annoying. However, he can grow to like certain people if they show him respect and don’t try to control or change him- like his gang or his dad. Those people are the ones he’ll generally be more relaxed around and make jokes with or try to protect when there’s danger.

As a leader for his gang, he’s cool under pressure and won’t freak out even when there’s a gun being held to his head while also being cruel and calculating enough to know how to make others listen to him- a baseball bat to the head or clawing out someone’s eye usually does the trick.

A bit of a kleptomaniac and opportunist, Val will take advantage of any possible opportunity to steal something from, frame, and/or con someone for whatever he can get out of them.

This part of his personality doesn’t apply to people he actually likes, but he WILL still try to swipe stuff from them in a joking way.

Example of this is him constantly trying to take Steelbeak’s wallet and the two of them laughing about it every time he gets caught or almost gets away with it.

Interesting Bonus Facts:

Val’s had terrible problems with his balance and equilibrium ever since he lost his tail as a kid. He can still walk and run okay, but if he needs to make sharp turns or move quickly in different directions he tends to fall over. He’s gotten good at getting up quickly afterwards, but it makes it hard to do stuff like fight and dodge attacks.

This is slowly remedied after getting his prosthetic tail from Dr.Rose Gold and receiving combat lessons from Steelbeak.

Because the only white spot on his body is usually covered by his clothes, most people think he’s just a black cat and that he’s bad luck, resulting in general distrust and contributing to people classifying him as a “problem child”.

Has a loving but cheeky relationship with his dad- they like being sarcastic with each other and saying playfully mean things, but they know it’s all in good fun and they love each other a lot.

Val knows his dad will always support him and have his back if anyone actually tries to insult or hurt him, but Steelbeak still respects Val’s independence and pride so he allows him to handle things his way first and only steps in when it’s an emergency or if his son asks him to help traumatize someone.

Doesn’t really have a favorite weapon when fighting since he’s still learning how to fight, but in a pinch he has a tendency to bring out his claws and go for the eyes.

Enjoys messing with adults/older teens that think they’re better than him by saying something very intelligent and/or scary for a kid that makes them do a double-take and ask him to repeat himself but he just looks at them “innocently” and acts like he didn’t say anything.

“If I slashed your radial artery, it would only take you 90 seconds to die in a pool of your own blood…hm? What? No, I didn’t say anything.”

I personally enjoy imagining that Steelbeak adopted Val a few years after the canon timeline for Darkwing Duck, so Valentino and Gosalyn are about the same age and go to the same private school (it’s one of the better ones in town and Steelbeak wanted his boy to have a good education since he never got one).

The first time Steelbeak comes to a parent-teacher conference, he gets jumped in the hallway by an irritated Darkwing Duck who thinks he’s there to cause trouble or corrupt the youths of the school. He has a hard time believing that Steelbeak’s just there to meet his son’s teachers, even after Val comes out into the hall to find out what’s taking him so long (he thought Valentino was being threatened or coerced until the kid nailed him in the stomach with his backpack full of textbooks). While Darkwing argues with Steelbeak, Valentino manages to swipe his wallet and reveals Darkwing’s secret identity (“Oh, you’re Gosalyn’s dad?”). The two adults agree to a (reluctant) truce when attending school functions to keep their kids from getting suspended or expelled.

This leads to many awkward/tense but funny interactions between Drake Mallard and Steelbeak’s civilian identity “Pauly” where they constantly try to one-up and insult each other while being forced to interact within the socially-regulated confines of school events and PTA meetings.

Example: Parents are asked to contribute to a school bake-sale. Drake makes cookies that are very popular at first, but then Steelbeak shows up with something fancier like lemon-meringue cupcakes with real toasted marshmallow meringue on top and he just smirks while Drake’s seething over being dethroned as the best baker in the PTA.

Valentino and Gosalyn aren’t exactly friends, but they do think it’s funny watching their dads constantly look like they’re one step away from killing each other while arguing over whether or not a new school regulation should be implemented or not.

They run scams together sometimes for quick cash and respect each other’s skills at conning suckers out of their money.

Also, they tend to sympathize with each other since they were both orphans who ended up being the “unwanted kid” until being found and adopted by their respective dads, so they’ll stick up for each other if someone tries teasing the other for being adopted or not looking like their dads.

#darkwing duck #dwd #darkwing duck oc #dwd oc #steelbeak #Valentino #my OC #Drake Mallard #Gosalyn Mallard #tw: mentions of child abuse #trigger warning #mentions of child abuse #with a happy ending

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lannister-slings-and-arrows · 4 years

Note

Hey you! Ok how about Pedro’s characters and the first time they wink at you. ILY and thank you 🙈

Hey babes! I simultaneously love and hate you for this ask because jfc winking irl is so fucking skeezy but, as with a lot of things I previously thought I despised, when Pedro does it I get a little weak in the knees lol. So now I have an excuse to comb through every gif of him winking. You know. For research. For SCIENCE. (Under the cut, cause fucking HELL. This got loooooong.)

(Gif made by @djjarindin )

Whiskey- On your very first day as a Statesman you make the dubious acquaintance of Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels. You’re standing at the window of your new office, flipping one of your knives in the air idly, when a handsome man in tight blue jeans and a black Stetson saunters in without so much as a by your leave. His grin is lazy, charming, and you acknowledge, in the deepest recesses of your hind brain, incredibly enticing.

“Well howdy there, darling,” he greets, thumbs hooked in the front of his belt, drawing your gaze to- is that a flask on his belt buckle? His mustache twitches up on one side as he notices that your eyes landed exactly where he had intended.

“Now what’s a pretty little thing like you doing playing with those pig stickers? You could hurt yourself with knives like that.” He steps closer to you, one hand leaving his belt to brace against the window next to your head so he can lean further into your space.

“Probably the same thing you’re doing playing with those pistols you’ve got under your jacket or that lasso at your hip,” you reply coolly, not backing away from his intrusion into your space. His raises his and he huffs a laugh through his nose.

“Well touché, kitten.” He bends a little at his knees to catch your eyes better and suggests softly in a voice that 90% of you demands you to listen to, “How’s about you and I get outta here and I can give you a tour of the place? Maybe, show you the ropes?” And he then winks at you.

That last 10% of your willpower has something to say to his blatant attempt at getting into your pants.

You slap him.

Javier Peña- You had been warned by more than one person that feminism hadn’t really made its way to Columbia yet when you accepted the portion to field agent and transferred down to the DEA office in Bogota. It was 1990 however, and you kind of expected the Americans you worked with to at least be a little more on board with the times.

That was on you, men were men it seemed, American or Columbian.

The tall blond who introduced himself as Murphy seemed nice enough, he was friendly and a little distracted, and he sounded almost apologetic as he led you further into the office to meet the other member of your team.

“Well hello there, sugar,” a man a couple of inches shorter than Steve greeted you from where he had been leaning on a desk by the door. He stood up straight and sauntered- there was really no other word for how pants that tight made a man walk- closer to the two of you, a wide smile stretched his mustache over his handsome face and showed off the dimples in his cheeks.

Oh lord. One of those men.

“Javi this is-“ Murphy started, clearly trying to diffuse a potential situation but the man interrupted him, and his hand reached for yours, holding it a little longer than necessary.

“A girl too pretty for your married ass to be talking to, Steve.” He still had your hand in between his two large warm ones and you filed that information away for use at a later, much more solitary time. He had the audacity to wink at you and you sighed and rolled your eyes. Ah well.

“I’m your new partner.” Guess feminism still has some strides to make no matter what the nationality of idiot male.

Ezra- You had been stuck on this interminably brown moon for a week and you were going stir crazy. You and your still new partner had landed in a manner that was less than gentle or correct on this nameless rock, and not only was your landing gear bent at an angle a university mathematician would have trouble describing, Ezra couldn’t get the damn thing to start again.

You weren’t any sort of mechanic by nature, that was one of the things he brought to the table, so until Ezra managed to repair whatever was wrong with this hunk of junk the two of you were still paying off, you were stuck sitting on your hands doing nothing. You had no particular desire to go traipsing around this rock by yourself, protection was one of the other things the man added to your partnership, as you had learned early in your mining career that that generally did not end well for people like you.

So there you sat, bored, listening to the click and clank of Ezra’s tools as he did whatever it was that you needed to do to get an impulse engine working enough to take off and dock to an FTL vessel. And listening to Ezra’s constant talking.

He was currently telling you a rather long winded, even for him and that was saying something, story about how an old partner of his woke up every morning and sanitized the floor of their pod with antibac spray before he would let any of the other four men set foot on it.

“The gentleman in question was a rather odd duck, badger,” he called out to you from half way inside the pod. “Why, in all my years and in all my travels in the black, I must avow never having seen someone so resolved on keeping the extremities of his associates so unsullied. I never cognized if his time running the stars had finally fractured his wits and this was the inevitable concomitant of a life lived as we do, or if it was a tic peculiar to him for all of his life. Still and all, one advantage I did discover at the conclusion of that particular venture: the bottoms of my socks never have been cleaner.”

An unexpectedly loud guffaw punched its way out of your mouth and you dropped the flat rock you had been attempting to balance on a piece of the aforementioned broken landing equipment. Unfortunately, Ezra decided at that exact time to shimmy his way out from under your craft and instead of falling harmlessly back to the ground where you had found it, it bounced off of his rather distracting ass on its way down.

He stopped moving and you were about to apologize, you really hadn’t meant to basically throw a rock at him, no matter how much he annoyed you at times, when you heard his voice float up to you again, a little amused, and a little something else that you had had occasion to notice a few times before but had never thought to classify.

“Badger, did you just take your hand to my ass?” You felt your face flush and wondered if this planet’s atmosphere wasn’t as hospitable to humans as you had thought.

“What?!” You squeaked, voice cracking when it hit a pitch normally very much out of your range.”No! I just dropped a rock!” You heard him chuckle from your feet and refused to look at him as he shuffled all the way out from under to pod and stood to his full height in front of you. He chucked you under the chin and finally you looked up into his eyes.

“Because darling, I strongly advocate any physical contact that you might desire to have with any part of my body you so wish, at any time of your choosing,” he told you with a wink.

Catfish- You had moved to Texas to take up residence on the ranch your grandfather had left you, not out of any real desire to take up the cowboy life. You hated how hot it was, you hated how slowly everyone talked, you hated how big the entire goddamned state was, and if one more goddamned truck managed to take up three goddamned parking spaces at the grocery store one more time you were going to throw a temper tantrum that would make all their southern asses wish they had managed to secede.

That was how you had met Catfish (”No that isn’t my real name; no one but my mama calls me Francisco”). He had been the next asshole in a truck to take up more than what your space conscious Yankee ass had deemed his due.

“Listen ma’am-”

“Don’t you “ma’am” me, how old are you implying I look?!”

“Sorry, miss, if you’re gonna holler at me, could we step a little further away from the truck? I just got that baby to sleep, and if she wakes up starts cryin’ again, I think I’m gonna start too.”

After a meet cute like that, it was inevitable that the two of you would hit it off as well as you did, and so a year later saw you still in a state that you were convinced was trying to kill you (hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, Republicans, and rattlesnakes???), stretched out on Catfish’s beat up couch, more than a little drunk, and a lot happier than when you had left New York to come here.

Catfish set both new bottles of beer down on the coffee table in front of you and smiled down at you with that big grin that summoned both the dimples in his cheeks and made you feel like your heart was growing four sizes larger inside your chest. He took off his ever present beat up baseball cap and tossed it on your lap. His hair was simultaneously flattened and a mess and you were sure he couldn’t look more handsome in this moment if he had an army of Hollywood stylists attack him.

He reached down to he hem of his grey Henley and started to pull it up.

“Whoa there cowboy!” You exclaimed with a grin, sitting up and plopping his hat onto your head for safe keeping. “I didn’t realize I was getting a show when I came over here!” He stopped with his shirt half way off his torso and looked down at you with an eyebrow cocked.

“It’s hot as goddamned balls in here, baby, and I’m wearin’ two of these things. One of ‘em at least is comin’ off.” He pulled it off the rest of the way and straightened his first layer that had attempted to escape with its compatriot before reaching down and grabbing his hat off of your head and flopping onto the couch next to you.

“Hey Fish, how long do you think we have before the baby wakes up?” He shrugged, his head rolling on the back of the couch o face you.

“I dunno, darlin’, why do you ask?” You bit your lip and smiled up at him, playing with the fingers of the hand he had settled on your thigh.

“Oh, well, you know how watching you nearly get stuck in your shirts really does it for me.” He groaned and slapped your leg lightly as you laughed.

“I think we’ve got time for whatever you want baby. Helicopter pilots can go straight up pretty fast you know.” He told you with a wink that you were sure was supposed to be alluring.

Oberyn Martell- The first thing you consciously noticed about Dorne was that it was hot. This was a kind of inescapable heat that permeated your entire body and made you feel like you were cooking from the inside out. You had never before given much thought to what it would feel like to be put into an oven and roasted alive, but without a doubt this is was that feeling. When you went back home to White Harbor you weren’t ever going to complain about the cold ever again.

The second thing you noticed when you put into port in Sunspear- a city quite a bit smaller than most of the cities of the upper six kingdoms the Manderlys sent your father to trade with- was that no one seemed to be wearing a lot of clothes. Which you supposed made sense because you were positively dying in yours.

You quickly changed into a pair of your brother’s breeches and a loose shirt before practically running off the ship and into the dusty warrens of the Shadow City below the walls of the Martell’s castle, eager to stretch your legs after weeks at sea and eat something other than hard tac and salted meat and fish. You figured you had at least a few hours before you would be expected to accompany your father to the castle to haggle about prices for wood and iron and silks and citrus.

The air only got hotter the further from the sea breeze you walked, and as you meandered the twisting and winding bazaars all you could smell were foreign spices and perfumes. Your head was on a swivel trying to take in the sights and sounds of a market radically different from any you had seen before when you walked into a silk covered shoulder. The shoulder belonged to a man nearly a foot taller than you and you wouldn’t have stood a chance at remaining on your feet if two strong arms hadn’t shot out and wrapped around your waist, dragging you back from your rather embarrassing descent to the dusty street and into a warm solid chest.

“I normally have to put in at least some effort in order to sweep someone off their feet, it must be my lucky day that you seem to have decided to do all the hard work for me,” an amused, accented voice said from above you. You felt every word from where your ear was plastered to the bare skin of his chest, his yellow and orange robes belted loosely enough to leave most of his golden skin exposed. You felt your face flush as you shuffled your feet, trying to get them back under you in a way that would allow you to stand and not fall on your face. The man set you back from him gently and you finally looked up

Your savior was beautiful. There wasn’t any other word to describe a face with deep set, smiling eyes that were so deep a brown you really had to look to distinguish his pupils. His nose was curved and prominent, his jaw covered with the same black hair that was cropped closer to his head than you were used to seeing in the North. And his lips were too pretty for a man. They spread into a smile as his eyes met yours, dimples appearing in his cheeks and you were smiling back before you realized it.

“Now,” he said, eyes still laughing. “You are either the worst pick pocket I’ve ever encountered or clearly too taken with the sights around you to be trusted to walk unescorted.” You hoped he never stopped speaking. His voice was deep and rich and at the same time soft and musical and no one in the woods and wilds where you had grown up spoke like he did.

“Uh, yes,” you stuttered and felt your ears burn as he smiled wider, eyebrows in danger of disappearing into his hair. “I mean, no, I’m not a pick pocket! I just, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, my apologies.” You stuttered stepping further back from him, hoping maybe some more distance would restore your ability to not make an ass out of yourself in front of this handsome stranger. “Thanks for you know,” you featured vaguely at the ground.

“Oh, you’re very welcome for ‘you know’,” the man replied, somehow injecting a completely different meaning to your innocuous words than you had intended. Your face could have been used to light a campfire by now. You needed to get back and get changed before you did something truly stupid.

“Okay, well, um, sorry, again, for walking into you,” you said, backing away. “But uh, I’ve got to, uh, go...” You sort of waved and took off back the way you came, taking care not to run into any more handsome strangers.

You made it back to the ship in time for your father to lecture you about how dangerous it was to just run off in a “city full of wild Dornishmen! Don’t think that because you’re dressed like a man you’d be safe! That ‘sort of thing’ is common here, daughter!” while you dressed in clothes more suitable to both your station and a meeting with the ruling house of the kingdom.

It was somehow cooler within the sandstone walls of the castle, and you amused yourself on the walk up to the raised dais by listening to the different sounds your company’s boots made on the marble floor.

There was a woman sitting on a carved wooden seat and a tall dark haired man standing behind her, leaning indolently against her chair at the top of the steps you and your father stopped at. You listened to your father make the appropriate greetings, hoping that they could come to favorable terms of trade for items and goods they all wanted. And you felt someone staring at you. You looked up at the young woman in the chair as your father introduced you and you smiled and curtsied less gracefully than your mother would have liked. Your father turned his face to the man behind the chair and began to repeat the introduction when a familiar laughing voice interurrupted,

“Oh, I believe we’ve met already, haven’t we, little pick pocket?” Your eyes snapped up from the marble floor to lock onto those dancing brown eyes from earlier this morning. You felt your jaw drop and your face turn what you were sure was a very unattractive shade of crimson as Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne grinned and winked at you.

Din- You had been flying with the Mandalorian and his tiny green baby for about a month when you decided that hyperspace was boring and if you wanted any amusement you would have to take a page out of the little man’s book and make your own fun. You knew that stealing pieces of the ship and hiding them would not be as cute as when the baby did it, so that was out. You weren’t a tall person, but you were still bigger than the green terror so playing hide and seek was pretty close to useless. You were grasping at straws until suddenly it hit you like one of the utensils that the tiny monster liked to levitate around the cabin.

You were going to get Mando to laugh.

You had absolutely no idea how you were going to accomplish this, or even any idea at all what a near silent warrior monk that you were still not a hundred percent convinced wasn’t a droid would find funny, so you decided to just do what you did best; you opened your mouth and let the word vomit out.

You didn’t shut up. If you were awake and not actively hunting someone, you were talking. The baby seemed to enjoy the new amount of noise and animation, but thus far you had only gotten a few sighs and what you thought were exasperated glares from your adult companion. At least, you figured they were glares. His helmet turned to face you and frankly, you were beginning to even get on your own nerves, so he was almost definitely glaring at you under that beskar.

This went on for four days straight until one day the three of you were sitting in the cockpit, watching the stars zip by, and you decided to narrate yourself drinking a glass of water. You had just gotten to the swallowing part and were attempting to put into words what that felt like when he turned around to face you.

“If one more word comes out of your mouth I will cut into into small enough pieces that the baby won’t notice it’s a human that he is eating for dinner tonight.”

You choked. And you definitely spat water all over the visor of his helmet.

You coughed and stared at him, terrified, not sure if these were going to be your last few seconds as a breathing creature, but sure that if they were you at least had the image of the Mandalorian with water and spit sliding down the front of his helmet to console you.

All three of you sat in silence for at least a minute before he leaned forward very slowly. You leaned as far back as your seat would allow.

“That was a joke,” he told you, voice warm despite the crackle of his modulator. “You can’t see it, but I just winked.”

Screw making him mad. You were going to kill the Mandalorian.

Tovar- This was officially one of the worst ways that you could think of to die. You sure that if you were given a few more minutes, and a few less spears pointed in your face to distract you, you could surely come up with at least five different ways that were, in fact, worse, but right now, this seemed pretty awful and didn’t seem likely to get any better.

“I need you to trust me,” your companion murmured in your ear, his hand on your wrist, stopping you from drawing one of your long knives. You cut your eyes quickly to his normally laughing brown eyes and then back to the soldiers in front of you.

“That never works out well for me, Tovar,” you remind him in a quiet hiss. He moves his arm from his side to around your shoulders and draws you close and tight against his much taller body.

“Good day, gentlemen!” He calls jovially to the five armored men blocking their way on the road. You can hear the wide grin that must be plastered on his stupidly handsome face and you send up a fast prayer to God that he doesn’t manage to get you into worse trouble than you were in already. Or that at least William can manage to get you out of it again.

“Halt,” the spear man in the middle orders, and Tovar stops walking, forcing you to as well, still tucked into his side. His left hand strokes your arm casually (you note its not his preferred sword hand which gives you some hope that he might actually have a plan), and he leans a bit more of his weight on you than you think is really called for. Is he pretending-

“Why whatever are you fine men doing in the middle of the road? Don’t you know there’s a war on! Shouldn’t you be off fighting that fierce some mercenary army?” You want to stab him. His entire left side is open and unguarded mere inches away from your favorite knife, you could slide the blade in right there between his ribs, you could have the pleasure of puncturing his lung and watching him slowly suffocate. Maybe he would finally stop talking.

“No one is allowed past this point,” the spear man informed you, still glaring. “Who are you and what is your business here?” The other four soldiers inched closer and you stiffen.

“Don’t,” Tovar ordered you through his clenched teeth, smile still in place. “I can get us out of this, I just need you to play along.”

“If we get out of this I am going to personally castrate you,” you inform him, a clenched tooth smile of your own on your face.

“Anything to get your hands on my cock, eh?” You elbowed him in that unprotected side you had been eyeing before he tried to bargain with the guardians of the road.

“Oh but surely sir, you wouldn’t hinder a poor man trying to get home to his farm?”The soldier looked extremely skeptical.

“If you’re a farmer, I’m the King of England.” Tovar shrugged.

“Alright, so I’m not a farmer. This rather attractive filly is, however, only paid for for another hour, and I had meant to have my way with her at least twice before my time was up. Surely you can understand my need to make all haste now?”

Nope, not castration. Castration and then you were going to make him watch as you fed his balls to goats.

“Don’t bite me please,” was all the warning you received before Tovar looked down at you, winked, and kissed you, lips surprisingly soft, and incredibly distracting. Maybe the castration could wait for a few hours.

Max Phillips- When the higher ups bring in a handsome new manager to boost sales and productivity you aren’t entirely surprised that every employee gets called one by one into his office for a “chat”. He’s new, it tracks that he’d want to get to know everybody.

You are both anticipating and dreading your own 2:30 appointment with the new boss man, you’re positive that out of all your coworkers your performance has been the most consistently decent since you were hired two years ago, but who knows. This was a new unknown element. His goal might be to shake things up to keep people on their toes.

You hear a ‘come in’ after you knock firmly on his closed door three minutes earlier than your scheduled time, and you find him working at his computer, jacket off, a pout on his lips that were frankly too pretty to be on such a distinctively masculine face, and his shirt sleeves artfully rolled up.

He doesn’t glance at you as he waves at a chair in front of his desk. You sit as instructed, and try as you might, are unable to help staring at him as he finishes whatever it is that requires such attention. You take in the tiny tattoo on his left hand with a little surprise. And you try very hard to ignore the shift and play of the muscles of his forearms under his lightly tanned skin. This is your new boss get a grip, you scold yourself, tearing your gaze away to rest on the shelves behind his head.

He sits back with a sigh and his palms hit his desk.

“I am sorry about that. I honestly hate computers, they’re just so impersonal, don’t you think?” He asks with a winning smile, eyes and attention totally on you now. You return his grin with a small, polite twitch of your own lips and raise your eyebrows questioningly at him.

“Anyways, I just wanted to get to know everybody here, you know? Know the real person behind your employee file! Find out what makes you tick, what gets you excited!” You’re only half paying attention to his spiel, but he garners your full and complete concentration when as he utters the word “excited” and he grins salaciously and winks at you.

You’re a little taken aback. You know you should call HR. At the very least that was thoughtless and at the worst, utterly inappropriate.

You are unfortunately intrigued. You know you won’t be calling anyone about this.

Maxwell Lord- You’d been working for Lord Enterprises for about a year before you were moved up to the top floor. You liked to think you were good at your job, you were a quick typist and resourceful, and you were excited about the bump in pay that accompanied your new position.

After a week of following one of the other girls around and learning the ins and out of the executive offices, you were turned loose and given your own duties and assignments. The very first of those were to take a pile of files from the desk of the most senior of the secretaries and make sure it ended up in the possession of Maxwell Lord himself. You hadn’t heard much about the the big boss one way or another, so you squared your shoulders and after knocking firmly, opened the door and entered his office.

Lord was seated behind a dark wood desk that you thought was probably a bit bigger than strictly necessary. He was in his shirt sleeves, waistcoat stretched over a bit of middle aged spread that he nonetheless wore well. His hair was thick, blond, and immaculately styled, and he was talking animatedly on the phone, gesturing with his free hand and you could see his body vibrating slightly as he bounced his leg up and down quickly.

He was a handsome man, and a lot younger than you had expected him to be. And when he looked up at you as you walked further into his office and smiled brightly at you his attractiveness only increased. His eyes were a deep, dark brown and they shone when two dimples appeared in his cheeks with his grin.

You held up the stack of folders in your hand and raised your eyebrows in a question. He gestured to the desk in front of him and you moved closer to set them gently down in front of the man. You observed him check you out from your hair down to you shoes as you walked closer and were a little surprised when no chauvinistic comment popped out of his mouth. This might have been the 80’s, but you were a secretary and knew that women’s rights only meant that you could earn your own paycheck now.

You nodded at him as you set them down and he mouthed ‘thank you’ as he continued to listen to the droning voice you could now hear over the telephone.

And then he winked at you.

Maybe this job would turn up some opportunities for you after all.

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