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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 11 months

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A DC X DP IDEA#14 His name is not Bruce Wayne, it’s…

Imagine dis…

It is another dimension travel between two fandoms but what if instead of having a Batman or even a Bruce Wayne in this dimension we have a Phantom?

Dick, Jason, and Tim are adopted by a well-known billionaire while Damian is a clone that escaped from Vlad before the brainwashing program was even added to the family.

Daniel Nightgale a billionaire industrialist, his godfather the founder and CEO of Vlad Co. gave him the entire company as a 21st birthday gift. Renamed as The Triple Pack Inc, a weird name yet their quality in terms of products as well their services was something nothing to laugh at.

Daniel Nightingale created a great legacy for both his hero persona to his mortal life.

A legacy that Dick, Jason, Tim, Ellie, and Damian Nightingale, all carry themselves with confidence as they strive to make their father proud as well look them in the eyes with pure adoration.

…

Each vigilante from Gotham had just turned in for the night after they have just busted a large illegal export of various technologies from different tech companies which had just been robbed senseless. While they didn’t know where the cargo was headed, they manage to stop whomever the client from gaining state in the top technology.

As Oracle logged off and went upstairs to catch the meager sleep she has ever since she entered this lifestyle, under the pile of confiscated tech she didn’t see the faint glowing of a mysterious green crystal that resembles a kryptonite, nor having the entire Wayne manor covered by a white light as each resident of the manor is now deep asleep.

…

Waking up Dick felt that his bed had shrunk, but he knew that his old room in the manor had stayed the same aside from the different trinkets as well as furniture seeing that he was no longer a child. As he tries to grab more hand full of the blanket before Alfred wakes them up but he noticed an extra baggage in his bed thinking that one of his brothers had just had a nightmare and decided to sleep in his bed, the moment he turned to face whichever brother snuck in his room he has faced a shocked face of himself looking at him wide-eyed.

Now note this duplicate is quite different from him, a bit taller as well having a bit broader shoulders as well a bit paler than Dick is. Dick immediately woke up and tried to get away from the intruder by kicking the stranger, it seems the stranger has the same idea and tried to kick Dick as well, but both fell off the bed. Just as they were about to fight off, multiple shots of guns came from the direction of another room just across the hallway, both Grayson (I couldn’t write his nickname without reading it weirdly) and an intense star off went to the door and lo and behold they saw double of their siblings.

Bruce is with that “face” indicating whether he should join in to stop the said fight or gather intel, in the end, he joined due to the fact the female double of Damian got him with a kick on the chest after tiring him out seeing that his son fought off two doubles of himself, one a female and one a paler and blue-eyed version of himself. This didn’t go as planned seeing another double join the fight, a buffer version of Bruce Wayne with a goatee and his hair tied grabbed him by the shoulder and joined the fray.

Each member of the Bat clan is now fighting each double of themselves, Dick who is about to ask and try to de-escalate the fight joined in due to the fact his “clone” suddenly helps Jason’s double make him join in.

Tim who was giving a hand to each member who was being pushed back suddenly had someone to keep him busy since the Demon brat’s double didn’t like that he is helping the others and joined in fighting, suddenly his double appeared still sleepy and disorganized, immediately joined in when he saw the commotion.

Jason fought his double when his double’s weird-looking gun looked like it ran out of battery, he pulled out a Lazarus green glowing sword and bought it into their gunfight, after cursing himself for not charging the gun the night prior. Now remember it is quite dumb for a person to bring a knife into a gunfight but the moment Jason’s double cut through a bullet as if it was butter, he knew that his double didn’t downgrade when he pulled out that knife.

It was when Alfred their butler and another person who has black hair and black eyes add to the fact that he is also wearing the same uniform their butler currently is wearing, shot out a green beam from a weird gun forcing them to be quiet. To try to figure out things.

After some exchange of information, the Bat clan was in a different dimension alongside their butler/grandfather. Both sides were able to be civil enough to move from the hallway and move to a study room. Each person sat with a clear distance between the two, now that both won’t attack sensibly, they could spot the difference between the two.

Tim’s double told them to call him Timothy, who is healthier and taller which made Alfred ask his younger alternate some tips on how he made them, especially Tim to be able to eat healthier, Sebastian, merely chuckled and said it is because of their father.

Jason’s double introduced as Jason Peter Nightingale and told them to call him Shade, instead of black hair and having a single white streak shade has full on white hair and has a single black streak on his head. Glowing green eyes made Jason uncomfortable seeing that his alternate might be in the state of his Pit rage.

Damian asked who is the person besides their double, who was introduced as Danielis, gesturing at the female version of himself. Danielis introduced the person beside them as his twin sister Danielle also known as Ellie.

Bruce is wary, every time they dimension hop he self is evil to the point, they destroyed the world or enslave it, but the buffer version just rolled his eyes as if sensing what his other version had thought of it. Then Ellie laughed at Dan’s expense and exclaimed that maybe he shouldn’t have destroyed the last timeline so Dad and grandfather wouldn’t ground him.

At Ellie’s exclaim the Bat clan warily looked at Dan who is about to quirk up a snark back, you destroy one timeline and everybody is against you.

When the front door suddenly made a loud noise, indicating someone entered the manor.

Each of them immediately went to hide including their versions as Sebastian stayed standing on his feet. A large and very broad man entered, with black hair and blue eyes. Ellie immediately revealed her position along with the others to pile on the stranger whilst yelling Danny or Dad, while the bats stayed at their hiding spot. As the others are laughing and speaking at the same time to get the man’s attention.

After cleaning off any imaginary dust his clothes may have, he just stands in a corner waiting for the rest of them to be quiet, which immediately indicates that it is not often to have their father is quiet.

After calming down and looking at each of his children, he sighed very loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose, and asked very loudly to his children why on earth they created a portal to another dimension when they have a perfectly good and working one at the basement.

Each of them began choking and shenanigans ensues as two fathers try to keep their respective children from either killing each other, trying to take over the world, or even how they complement each other to the point their very sanity is at stake.

…

Sorry I haven’t much posted I haven’t had many ideas to write on.

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so don’t forget to tag me though.

#dc #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp #danny fenton #Danny Phantom #bruce wayne #BatFam

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charlie-lec-stories · 2 months

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Everything happens for a reason // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Stroll!Sister

Summary: After a whole life of following her father's orders, Y/N's tired of being the good girl and when she finally stood up for herself with the help of her best friend, all hell broke loose.

Warnings: Sexual comments and scenarios, cheating, strong vocabulary.

Author’s Note: Well guys, gals and non-binary pals, you know I love messy stories, this is no exception. Rate: +18 (adult content)

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"UGHHHHHH". Y/N couldn't help but laugh out loud when her brother, Lance, sat down beside her, grunting as if it was the hardest thing his body had done in 20 years.

"Really, Lance, was it really that hard? Are you that old?". She rolled her eyes as the boy fixed his position on the roof, making sure that he wouldn't fall off. They had the tradition of sitting on the roof of their mansion after dinner and before bed time. They had an hour before the staff would start looking for them, the only time they could be normal and not billionaires.

"I'm not old, it was that hard, some of us train, you know. Not everyone is naturally gifted at driving cars". She laughed again. Even though her brother tried to act annoyed with her great driving, he was actually proud of her.

"I'm not that good". She lied, but he shook his head, then let it rest on her shoulder, getting comfortable next to her under the blanket she had. Her hand went to his hair, lovingly running her fingers through the locks.

"Don't lie. Gees, I'm not ever sure who you got that from, because dad sucks". She felt his body shake as he giggled at his own comment. "That old man may love racing but God knows he should never touch a steering wheel".

"Hey, don't be like that, he's an average driver...". Lance moved his head up to give her a pointed look. "He is!... When it comes to tennis karts he is". They stayed silent for a moment before bursting out laughing so hard that they got worried someone might have heard.

"Okay, okay, enough with roasting the old man". Lance said once they calmed down. He resumed his position close to her and changed the subject. "Are you excited for the new season? I mean, you have a real chance this time, sis".

"Carlos said the same". She said, sighing and looking into the horizon. The sun was setting and the sky had that perfect shade between pink and purple, it was lovely, it made her feel at peace.

"Well, we are right. I'm always right, as you obviously know, and Carlos is your best friend, he could never lie to you, that's illegal". Y/N smile, that was true, her best friend was the most honest person she had ever met, and if there were two people in the world she trusted with her life, those were Lance and Carlos.

"Speaking of Carlos, I have something to tell you about this season". Lance could feel the tension in her voice so he fixed his position again, showing her that he was giving her his full attention. "Nelson, you know, the PR guy, he told me that I have to get into a PR relationship. He gave me two options: Carlos or Leclerc. Of course, I chose Carlos. I'd rather fake-date my best friend than Charles-stupid-Leclerc".

"You should let go of that anger, your beef with Charles was years ago, he's a nice guy". Lance rolled his eyes at his sister. Y/N and Charles fought after a karting race when they were 16 and never got along after that. He was unnecessarily mean to her and she always over-reacted. But to be fair to Charles, she did say to him that he had a small penis in front of the whole grid, and that can be really harmful for a teenage boy. The fact that everyone knew that they had hooked up once only made the accusation seem more reliable, humiliating Charles even more in front of their peers. To add to the feud, Y/N called him "Peanut" and he called her "Matagot", which is basically a south-french mythology monster that only treats you well if you keep it well-fed, otherwise it can be your biggest nightmare. It was Charles' way of calling her a spoiled brat, that only cares for others when she can get something in return.

"He's not nice. But I don't want to talk about him, I want advice. I have never been in a PR relationship before and you have. It's pretty uncomfortable to have to do this with Carlos, but I have to make it work".

Lance and Y/N spent their hour talking, he gave her advice on what to do and how to keep the friendship strong after having to be all over each other in public. It was going to be awkward, but her contract said that there were things she had to do to get a better public image and Carlos was a great way to keep things interesting. Drive to Survive, the Netflix series about the sport needed something to talk about, and a relationship between two drivers from different teams was perfect, and that's how she ended up trapped with a PR relationship. Around 10 pm, they got down the roof and made their way to their rooms. Before bed, Y/N checked her phone and found a text from her best friend.

Chili-man: Hey kiddo! I know that this is going to be awkward, but remember that we're best friends first, if you ever feel uncomfortable, you let me know and I'll do everything to help out. Okay?

Y/N: Thanks Chili-man. I love to know that you're always on my corner. You're the best. And the same goes for you. It's gonna be weird, but at least I'm not fake-dating Peanut.

Chili-man: Don't be mean, he's a nice guy.

Y/N: You and my brother need to stop being such Leclerc's advocates, I'm sure he can pay his own defense lawyers, you guys don't need to do it for free. Anyways, good night and I'll see you tomorrow for the first day!

Chili-man: I promise he's not that bad. But whatever. Sleep tight kiddo. I'll see you tomorrow.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sound of her father shouting and her mother begging him to lower his voice. Still half asleep, she walked to the door and cracked it open. Outside, she saw Lance peeking out of his own room and after sharing a puzzled look, they moved their attention to their father. He was at the end of the hall, at the door of his room, their mother was pulling at his arm, trying to pull him into the room without success. It was strange to say the least, that their mother interfered with their father's affairs, she had her own business to worry about, but she seemed actually worried about the discussion their father was taking part in over the phone.

"I SAID NO. I don't care about the numbers, I don't care about the stupid show. She's not dating Carlos Sainz Jr. She'll do that over my dead body!". Both Lance and her looked at each other. Why was he so upset? He loved the Sainz; he had been friends with Carlos Sainz Sr. for as long as they could remember. "I DON'T CARE IF IT'S FAKE".

"Honey, please, they'll hear you". Their mother tried to calm him down, but he was furious.

"THEN USE LECLERC, BUT SHE'S NOT DATING CARLOS AND THAT'S MY FINAL WORD". She definitely didn't like that last statement. Her father hung up and stormed into his room. It was her turn to be upset, she didn't want to date Charles Leclerc, fake or for real, it was a nightmare both ways. A little later that morning she tried to convince her father in her favor, but he was so angry that it was impossible to make his change his mind. Carlos texted her mid-day, while she was on the jet on her way towards Bahrain, asking her what happened and why his PR team told him that he was replaced by Charles. She didn't want Carlos to feel bad or inadequate in the eyes of her father, so she lied and said that she had no idea and that as soon as she had an answer for that, she would tell him. When she made it to Sakhir, she was told to leave her luggage at her room and then go back to the lobby so she could wait for a car there with Nelson. They had to meet with Charles and his team to discuss the details of the arrangement. It was a quiet car ride, Nelson was aware of what she thought of Charles and that the change had not been her decision, so he let her off the hook for a few minutes.

"Welcome, Miss Stroll, please have a seat". Kathy, Charles' PR head of the department greeted her when they made it to the hotel where Ferrari was staying. The room they used for the meeting was a last time arrangement, but it had space and it made her feel better, considering how bad things could get once Charles arrived.

"Thank you". She sat down on the couch and Kathy handed her a glass of water. They didn't have to wait much before Charles walked through the door. If it wasn't for her being completely aware of how much of a prick he was, she was sure that she could fall at his feet over and over again every time she saw him. He was the most handsome man on Earth, she knew that, but he was also aware of that so it posed a problem for her.

"Sorry I'm late, I wanted to shower after the flight". He sat on the bed of the room and looked at Y/N when she scoffed.

"Thank you for that! Now the only thing that stinks in this room is your shitty personality". Charles growled. They spent less than two minutes together, 2 meters apart, and they were already at each other's throats.

"I told you this was not gonna work". He told Kathy. "She's a spoiled little shit and I can't stand her close to me. The feeling is obviously mutual, why force this?".

"Because you're the perfect marketing option and it's our job-". Kathy pointed between her and Nelson. "- to make you both a selling machine. So you'll both make it work or your teams will reduce money from your salaries for breaching your contracts".

"That's not fair. I need my money and this Matagot doesn't give two shits about her contract, her Daddy is a billionaire, you're giving her all the power in the world over me!". Charles complained. He knew that she didn't need the money, she could make his life a living hell without a problem and he would have to take it all like a good boy not to lower his income.

"Suck it up, Peanut. Compensate that small pecker of yours by being the bigger person!". She was enjoying the moment.

"The itinerary is long. Read it, learn it and follow it". Nelson explained to ease up the tension. "Remember to be caring and loving, but do not overdo it. Kiss once in a while, hold hands while you walk together. We'll take care of the interviews and the press. Act the part for Netflix and we'll help you with the conflict for the show-".

"We don't need help with conflict". Charles interrupted.

"We need conflict, not first degree murder, Charles". Kathy sent them a stern look as she let the comment out and both drivers looked at their laps.

"Okay, I got it all. Can I go now?". She wanted nothing more than to get out of there.

That night she texted Carlos, and he told her something interesting: His PR team and his father told him to put some distance with her. They were both surprised, since when did their parents dislike the idea of them being friends? They had been friends their whole lives, close since they remembered. They were like siblings, why couldn't they be friends anymore? They understood the whole PR thing, that she needed to sell and that there was drama that had to occur between her and her fake boyfriend, but why did it all have to happen with Carlos at an arms' length? It was weird and she needed to know. It was hard enough that her father had controlled her whole life, she was already old enough to make her own decision. Why did he care so much about her friends? It wasn't like she was going to date Carlos for real. Carlos had his own questions, he was almost 30, his father was stepping over a line trying to control his life like that, but he respected his old man and he was going to listen, as long as the decision didn't prove to be hurtful for his best friend.

"I'm not kissing you". She said as soon as she met Charles at the lobby of her hotel. They were supposed to show up together for the first day at the paddock. Of course, she wanted to make it difficult for him. "I'm not doing the same stupid shit twice".

"You don't have to do me this time, Matagot". Charles hissed at her. "Plus, it's not like I will enjoy it so shut up and make this easy for everyone".

"I said-". But he cut her off with his lips over hers. As fast as he did it, he pulled away and before she could say anything, he was practically dragging her to his car.

The day went by incredibly slowly, but at some point she became numb to holding hands and kissing with Charles. They would kiss and she would instantly start talking about something racing related, like Lance suggested she do to get rid of the awkwardness. Charles seemed okay with that. What was actually bothering her more was the fact that she spent the whole day without talking to Carlos. Charles noticed her looking for his teammate a few times but decided to ignore the raging fire it started inside his veins. He hated the idea that he had to date her, but he dated more the idea of her dating Carlos. He wasn't surprised when Carlos told him that he was going to date Y/N as a PR stunt, what surprised Charles was that they weren't actually dating for real. He could never understand why the Spaniard would refuse to date a woman like her. Charles found Y/N the most amazing woman, when she was nice, and she was definitely nice to Carlos. The older man explained that he never felt like that about her and it never made sense to Charles, after all, he did feel that way about her when she used to be nice to him. But that was a decade ago, and she had never been nice once to him since that time. Still, he felt pleased that Carlos wasn't a threat. She may have looked around for him, and liked him over Charles, but he didn't reciprocate her feelings, so Charles was safe. He was torn between a need for her to love him and constant reaction of disgust to everything she said.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Peanut? There are no cameras here". She said when he appeared at her room door.

"We need to talk". He made his way inside the room and she sighed, already too tired to complain.

"What do you want to talk about?". He sat on her bed and she went to the couch, not wanting to be near him.

"Do you like Carlos?". He decided that dancing around the question was pointless and she was kind of thankful that he cut to the chase.

"That's none of your business, Charles"

"Well, but we are fake dating, and he's my teammate, so I need to know". Lie, that wasn't the real reason, and she knew, but she let it slide.

"I don't like Carlos that way". She saw the accusatory look on his face and explained further. "We're best friends. Something happened. I don't know what. I think our fathers may have something to do with it. He told me that we can't hang out much for now. It's weird".

"Does this have anything to do with us getting together?". 'Failed act', Freud would say.

"We're not together Charles, we can't stand each other". He could pick up on her tired tone, maybe it was the right time to finally get her out of her shell.

"We used to. I remember that time. We had a great moment". But what he thought was going to be a comment that made her happy, completely backlashes at him.

"A great moment?! That's what it was for you? Just a great time?". She stood up, tears at the corners of her eyes and Charles suddenly felt the need to get up and hold her. He didn't, though. "That's why you just simply walked out and ignored me then? Because I was just another good time for you?"

"What? No, how did you even get there?! I never said that!". Now he was the one in a defensive mood.

"Your actions speak better than your words. You ignored me, after everything we did together, after how vulnerable I was with you. I gave you my virginity and you simply threw me away!". She was fully on crying and Charles just could take it anymore, he got up and pulled her to his body, hugging her as tightly as he could.

"I was embarrassed. I felt like I did it like shit. I was stupid and had zero experience. I came so fast because I liked you so much. I thought I let you down". He wasn't sure if she heard him, his words muffed by her hair and his sobs. "I thought you had not enjoyed that moment as much as I did and it was embarrassing, because I loved every second of it. I wanted to talk to you but your parents kind of scared me off from the house the next morning. It felt like I had done everything wrong. Then we saw each other at the race and you were so cold that I believed I was right. You then said those things... I- I just didn't know what to do".

"I shouldn't have said that. I was hurt and felt humiliated, I was wrong". She was grabbing at him as tightly as he was at her.

"We both were". He kissed her head and they broke apart. "I never stopped thinking about you. I always wondered what we could have been...". He let that linger in the air, the possibility. She took his hand and led him to the bed. Her actions spoke better than her words.

They woke up the next morning to someone pounding on the door. Charles quickly fell asleep again, but Y/N got up to tell the person at the other side to get lost. She was surprised when she found Carlos on the other side. The man didn't even say hi, he walked into the room, pushing her inside with him and slamming the door shut. The noise woke Charles up again, this time he did get up, furious when he noticed that his teammate was grabbing his girlfriend's arms with a python's grip. Carlos looked worried, but it was mixed with a bit of anger and something else Charles couldn't decipher. It wasn't until he spoke up that Carlos actually noticed his presence.

"What the fuck are you doing?!". The monegasque walked towards him, and Carlos noticed the lack of clothing, the black Calvin Klein's hanging from Charles' hips were the only thing keeping him decent.

"You two...". He suddenly smiled. "It was about time. A decade. Never met two people this slow".

"You're on thin ice, mate". Charles said, sternly.

"Then you're not going to like what I'm going to say next". Carlos took a deep breath. "I need us to fake-date, Y/N. I want to pressure my father. I think he's planning on setting me up with someone. But if he thinks we're dating even though he said no, he'll leave me alone". She looked at Charles, he didn't seem happy with the idea, but she also wanted to find out why her father was so against Carlos so suddenly.

"If- IF I do it, do you think we can make it happen sometime when both our parents are there?". Charles looked down at her frowning. "Remember last night, when I told you that I didn't know what happened? I want to find out".

"I don't know, mon Ange". She took his hand and his face relaxed a bit. He used to call her that, when they were younger, it felt right.

"I need to know, something feels off. This is the reason why we are together now. Over ten years of history fixed by one phone call by my father". He let out the breath he was holding, she was right. "Please, everything happens for a reason, Charlie".

"Okay, let's do this".

They had to wait until after the race. Carlos Sr. and Lawrence, Lance and Y/N’s father, were sitting at the hotel restaurant, chatting with frowns on their faces. Carlos and Y/N held hands and walked towards them, Charles following them close behind. He had a part in the plan, and he was ready to execute it perfectly, even if it was harder for him to act mad at Y/N now that they had made up. The older men looked up at their children when the three drivers approached them. To say that they looked horrified would be an understatement. Carlos Sr. seemed about to throw up, while Lawrence was simply shocked. The first part of the plan was done, keeping the element of surprise. Now to phase two: the lie itself. They sat at the table, Carlos in the middle of Charles and Y/N, his hand interlocked with hers resting on the table so their fathers could see them. It took the older men a moment to get the color back to their faces, but when they did, Lawrence went from white to red in a second.

"What the hell is this?". He asked, trying to keep the little cool he had left.

"We're dating, Mr. Stroll. We wanted you both to know". Carlos was the oldest, he took the lead.

"You can't". Carlos Sr. said with his voice rough thanks to the lump in his throat.

"That's not your decision, Dad". Everything was going as expected, but they had to admit that their fathers did look more disturbed than they had foreseen.

"It is. You won't date Carlos, you will date Charles as it was planned by the PR team and I don't want to hear anything else about it". That was Charles’ cue.

"I won't date her if she's in love with my teammate. We can barely stand each other, I won't get stuck into this mess for her". It hurt, but he had to say it like that. The other two didn't budge, and they had to pull out the last resort they had to press their fathers' buttons. Y/N saw their mothers walking to the table, so she took Carlos by the chin and started to get closer to him, ready to kiss him. Before they could make contact, Carlos Sr. was pushing them away.

"You can't do that, don't do that". He was almost losing it.

"Why?". She whispered, her eyes looking into his and a chill ran down her spine.

"You're half-siblings". It was Lawrence who said it. There was a long list of options that Carlos and Y/N had made of what could have happened, being siblings was not on the list.

"What?". Charles was as stunned as them. Lawrence and Carlos Sr. sighed and rested against the backs of the seat. Their wives, paralyzed behind them, were still unnoticed by the rest of the table.

"I had an affair with Lawrence's assistant. Of course your mother didn't know about it". Carlos Jr. had an expression impossible to read as his hand gripped Y/N tightly. "She got pregnant, asked me to leave your mother. I refused. She had the baby, Y/N. But then she got postpartum depression. She killed herself three weeks after giving birth".

"Y/N, you mother had just lost a pregnancy, no one knew, I found you in that house, alone, crying. It was the chance to give your mother a baby after the one she lost". Lawrence continued.

"You had the power and money to make it happen". Charles was officially angry, and it wasn't even his identity on the line. "What did you do with her mother? Where is she buried?".

"She was cremated. I took care of everything. I gave her the best there is". Carlos Sr.'s wife was looking at Lawrence's with pain in her eyes. She knew, all this time she knew that they were raising her husband's offspring and she hid it from her.

"Why did you let us become friends?". It was Carlos Jr.'s time to ask.

"I wanted to keep in contact with her, watch her grow. You two got along so well, she ended up liking racing too. Everything led to you two in my life". Carlos Sr. let a few tears free. "Ten years ago, we considered letting you know the truth".

"Your mother and I discussed it, but then we saw that Charles was in the house, we kind of got rid of him to talk to you, but then you looked so upset. You got disqualified from the race for fighting with Charles. We understood that you were going through a lot, so we desisted". Lawrence added.

Carlos Jr.'s mother made her presence known and the three drivers took the chance to run away from the situation, knowing that the argument the two couples had was going to be too much to witness. The three ran to Y/N's room, crossing paths with Lance on their way there. Telling Lance that his sister was not his biological sister was one of the worst conversations they had. But they were all victims of so much, they found solace in sharing the tears together. They refused their parents' calls for the night, sending a text explaining that they needed time and that they would reach out when they felt like it. The four of them stayed in the room, chatting and calming themselves down. The irony of it all struck Y/N like a lighting and she couldn't help but laugh.

"What's so funny, mon Ange?". Charles asked and then kissed the back of her hand.

"If my parents hadn't scared you off that morning, we would have never discovered the truth". She explained, but her brothers didn't follow. "Charles walking out on me that morning is the reason why we fought that day in the race. Because of the fight in the race, we started hating each other. Because of the rivalry, I choose to fake-date Carlos instead of Charles. Because of my choice, Dad made the call and everything else followed".

"So, if you and Charles had made up that day...". Carlos started.

"We would have probably been together today, no need for PR, no need for your fathers to say anything". Charles finished. All four laughed softly. "I was so sad that things didn't work out back then".

"Everything happens for a reason".

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Okay, this is a LONG ASS STORY, sorry guys for not posting in months, I've been so caught up with work I literally thought I could get fired, but I had some time to edit this one. I hope you liked it. Remember to like, comment, reblog and all those beautiful things you do.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader

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wardenparker · 22 days

Note

Character: Javi G

Prompt: “I’ll protect you”

Lastly: CONGRATS! 👏 🥳

Javi Gutierrez. 830 words. "I'll protect you." Co-written with @absurdthirst

Established relationship. Reader is described as having hair long enough to curl.

Javi rushes into the room, stopping and staring for a brief moment as you look up from the chair you are sitting in. Curlers are in your hair and there are a million different products lined up on the bathroom counter. A ring light has been added, giving more light to the space to allow the stylist that he had hired to make you feel like a princess. "The dress is here." He tells you excitedly.

"Is it everything you hoped for, amor?" His film premiere tonight has him in jitters, but the excited kind. As Javi has gotten more comfortable in Hollywood, he has also become a more active participant in the parties and events that the film industry considers so important. It's taking a little longer for you to get into the scene, but you also haven't been in Hollywood as long as he has. In fact, you're only here because of how much you love him. Being a writer/producer's girlfriend was never anything you had on the Bingo card of your life.

"You love it too, sí?" He asks, a worried frown crossing his face. He had thought you loved the dress too, but maybe he had been too busy imagining how you would look next to him to see any objections you had. He just wanted you to feel beautiful tonight, since you are coming with him.

"Of course I love it." It's a stunning, designer-made evening gown. What's not to love? "I just want you to be proud to be seen with me, my love. And since you picked out the dress, I wanted to make sure that you still love it."

"I would be proud to be seen with you no matter what you are wearing." You still seem to be a bit intimidated by the fact that he used to be a billionaire. He's not one anymore. Most everything he owed was siezed by the police when they captured Lucas. He didn't even get to keep his golden guns. Now, he was started to build back a nice portfolio with the screenplays he was developing, but you don't care about his lack of money. "But it is even more beautiful than I remember." He hums. "Almost as beautiful as you."

“Flatterer.” A teasing little accusation and you lean forward to kiss him as the stylist moves around you to take your hair out of the curlers and work whatever magic she has in mind. “Everything will be wonderful tonight, mi amor. I promise.” He’s knows you are nervous, but you have given him your word that you do want to be there and so you’re going to make sure that he feels it, too. Hollywood may be intimidating but it will not stop you from supporting him.

"It will be good for you too." He promises, sending you a soft smile through the mirror. You have been amazing, his constant support and champion after he had split with Gabriela. It was like you were meant to be.

“I’m sure it will be. And it will be nice to see Nick and Olivia.” Javi’s best friend is his coproducer on this film and Nick Cage’s wife has quickly become a friendly shoulder for you to lean on. As odd as that sentence is to you sometimes.

"Yes it will." He grins, excited to see his friend again. "They also said that the afterparties are a must."

“We’ll stay out as long as you like,” you promise him with an indulgent grin. “I took the next two days off of work.”

"You did?" His brows wing up in surprise, expecting to have to leave early so you could go to bed a reasonably decent time.

“Of course I did.” His surprise breaks your heart, but you reach up to cup his face gently with one hand. “I might be nervous but I’m not going to abandon you in the middle of your big night.”

"I know." He knows that you are incredibly supportive, but you also have a job that you have to keep as well. "I just know you are nervous at the big parties."

“And I’ll get used to it with a little practice.” Your office job doesn’t exactly put you in the line of fire when it comes to big anything. But Javi is worth making changes for.

Javi nods, understanding that you must feel like a fish out of water at times. "Don't worry." He promises, risking the stylist's ire to press a soft kiss to your cheek. "I'll protect you."

“I know you will.” Since the moment the two of you met, you have been his champion and he has been yours. He’s more than you ever dreamed of in a partner and you’re determined to make him proud. “It’s going to be a wonderful night, mi amor.”

“Yes it will.” He knows it will be, because you are by his side. “We will have the time of our lives.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javi Gutierrez #Javi Gutierrez x you #Javi Gutierrez x reader #Javi Gutierrez x female reader #Javi Gutierrez x f!reader #Javi G #TUWOMT #the unbearable weight of massive talent

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hollow-keys · 28 days

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I think a lot of people don't get that superheroes don't often have the morality of online leftist. They will see Batman go guns bad. Donate to charity. No killing. And assume his anti killing rules are routed in leftist ideology.

This isn't true. He supports state sanctioned killing in many comics. He is anti-vigilante killing. And on occasion even against self defense killing.

In Batman #420 Bruce locks KG Beast in a storage room and leaves him there to either find a way to escape himself or die (not seeming to care which, honestly if I am remembering correctly leaning towards death) but in Batman #422 he condemns Judy Koslosky's self defense killing of a serial killer who had already killed her sister because she lured him into attempting to kill her by following him around and glaring at him. Both give the villains the opportunity to survive KG Beast has to escape and Karl just has to resist the temptation to try to murder a woman.

There is Batman: The Hill where he defends the GCPD killing a 14 year old with a gun as necessary but in Batman: Under the Hood he condemns the death of Captain Nazi. This isn't the most leftist character in the world. Leftists don't tend to be okay with cops killing kids but against killing Nazis. It tends to be the other way around. I read Batman: The Hill and I do think the cops used undue force and should have at least attempted deescalation in that situation.

There is a lot to say about the vague morals of the characters. Batman does a lot for charity but he definitely classist in a lot of his appearances. Characters can be complex and imperfect. Just because he cares about people in poverty doesn't mean he doesn't look down on them.

Also the whole 'violently beat people okay' and 'child sidekick okay' because genre convention while killing bad. It's like . . . killing is also present in superhero comics? Deadpool, Wolverine, Crimson Avenger, the Spectre . . . killing is also part of the genre. It has nuance to it. But heroes have killed at least on occasion since the very beginning.

Yes, you get it! People on here take "doesn't kill/believes in redemption" to be inherently proof of support of rehabilitative justice and leftism when... it isn't lol. I've yapped about superheroes and copaganda before here (I think it's a good post, I'm proud of it) so I'll try not to repeat myself too much but a conservative can believe in people's ability to change and not killing or whatever while still supporting the structures of the police and prisons, still believing that people should be arrested and serve time, even the rest of their lives. And that's what people don't get.

The word cop has been so twisted by this site that people use it to mean "anyone who judges me" or "anyone I don't like." It's used to describe individual behaviour the person has a problem with which ends up obfuscating the fact that a cop isn't defined by their personal ideology or what type of violence they commit, they're defined by the fact they commit violence to uphold the state's power. Their personal thoughts and opinions can make them worse, more violent and more oppressive, but personal opinions do not change what they are. Batman is a paramilitary state operative, not a radical leftist. I'm sorry.

And yeah the charity defense also misunderstands the point because conservatives donate to charity all the time. Charity is used by the rich to launder their reputations. They give a tiny fraction of their wealth back to the people so people don't question the rest of their wealth. Narratively, this works the same way so writers can go "See! He tries helping people via kindness but Gotham is innately corrupt and people just choose to be evil here so of course he has to dress up as a bat every night." Narratively, his charity exists so the writers can justify why he has to be Batman and to make him look better. If he really meant to help people with his money, he wouldn't be a billionaire anymore.

You're right about killing being present in the genre since since forever. Not as consistently as other things, but still present for sure. People defend violence they enjoy as "just part of the genre" but condemn violence they don't as bad and wrong.

I support hitting superheroes with the leftist beam but the fact of the matter is that most aren't in text and Batman even less so than others.

And you can dislike this. Batman is a character who's been through a million different incarnations and interpretations and you can latch on to more liberal, understanding incarnations or make up your own but you cannot defend main universe Bruce by pretending he's something he's not.

Thanks for the ask!

#bruce wayne #anti bruce wayne #<- using anti tags makes me feel silly sometimes but people yell at you if you don't and i do need something to organise my criticism under #dc comics #asks #📨

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allamericansbitch · 5 months

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it’s obvious taylor is an awful feminist but before it seemed like she was at least a good person and now it seems like…well…maybe she’s not. and it really pains me to say that. but i hate that she’s so excited and proud of being a billionaire. like i’d be so embarrassed. i’m not pretending like i don’t want money like of course i want a house and to afford groceries and a reasonable amount of nice things for myself but i could do that with way less than a billion dollars. and right now i can’t do those things because i don’t make enough money and of course that’s not taylor’s fault but it also doesn’t help when people like her hoard wealth. and i know she’s not forcing anyone to buy anything but like. she’s also not not encouraging it. of course she deserves to be successful but that amount of money is just gross and the fact that she thinks it’s the greatest thing ever nauseates me. even bezos’ ex-wife has the grace to be embarrassed about all the money she got and give most of it away.

No being a billionaire especially right now is nothing to be proud of and the fact she’s so mentally twisted enough to view it as a win and that it’s actually good because she’s a women is so…. insanely revealing of how bad her morals and views are

#answered #anonymous

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arsonchaoschild · 1 year

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mutuals and all

i'd like to cast upon you the utter horror that these presidential elections have been

we got through the first round which lets people pick the two candidates to end up in the second round and actually be voted into presidency

and like

the second round

we have him

who's an oligarch billionaire (in czech currency at least i can't be bothered to do the math) who was just tried for misusing eu donations among other things and then cleared of all charges all while running for president, his party has had the majority in parliament for years up until the last elections (where his party was just barely surpassed by a more conservative one), huge populist, has rolled out outdated surveys about queer people's rights (which never accounted for you being a queer person and had questions like "should gay people have equal rights" you get the picture). he's also overall insanely rude, avoids debates and decided to go into a classrooms to let kids ask him questions, got questions such as "name the planets of the solar system" not by not being able to remember all of them, but by including the sun and the moon and then he proceeded to be rude as hell to the kids and treat them like he treats journalists (not good). not to mention, used to be an active member of the state police during the communist era (denies it. the wikipedia article on state police uses his file as the example photo. honestly incredible). dude's not even czech either, he's from slovakia. he's mostly known in the outside world cause he was included in pandora papers. being this bad of a human being is near impressive but his marketing team somehow makes it all work.

the other one's this. lead NATO for a while, also entangled with state police but from my understanding it was much less horrendous, definitely right/center-right but honestly when the president's most important authority is over naming members of the national bank committee (most likely not the official translation again i can't be bothered) then fucking anyone's better than an oligarch billionaire looking to rule the country like its a company. also just much more pleasant to listen to, since he has common decency and can put together a cohesive sentence. also he's a general. he really wants you to know that he's a general. he replaced his first name, "mr" or "president" with general. everywhere. every bit of the campaign. opposition really wants you to think he'll send the country to war. the president does not have the power to do that. he also really wants you to know he won't be like the current president (which. fair. he sucks) for example by constantly stating that his health will be public knowledge (cause the current president had a whole thing where he's been slowly disintegrating over over the last 10 years and the people knowing nothing last year he nearly died it was a whole thing) but he didn't go as hard as the third biggest candidate who had a full medical checkup done and then put her results on her website and instagram. she was real active on instagram and real proud of the fact she'd always voted right wing. she's her own can of worms.

he's the obvious choice. people are always thirsting for him, this includes my friend's mom and would most definitely include my mom if she wasn't dead. i'm sorry but it's true. i've seen a random polish person on reddit post a picture of him saying he could "annect their polish body". he's really into flannels.

whatever the fuck this is. all that's left is fanfiction. we have copious amounts of fanfiction of this one specific pair of politicians already to the point i've had to block several people because of it cause it didn't seem like they were joking anymore. a lot of the fanfiction is written by slovaks too. so it's not at all a stretch that the fanfiction will come. i'm terrified. i'm purposefully posting this on main instead of my czech blog cause the people of čumblr have had enough already. we're oversaturated. i need to bang my fists on a new table. i've been sick with fever this past week and any amount of the election events may have been a fever dream. goodbye.

#orbitky #politics #rant #long post

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terrence-silver · 2 years

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Not like this would likely happen, like this is WORST CASE SCENARIO… but say 80’s Terry and beloved had a terrible fight, and she ran off, and Terry couldn’t find her? (From a writer to a writer, you are excellent!)

Terry would keep searching for beloved for the rest of his life.

Sure, he would have bedfellows and bedwarmers meanwhile because they serve as distraction from him going outright insane (even though he very much would be mentally broken beneath the surface), but he'd always keep looking, ever decades after the 80's, in hopes of their recovery and people around him don't even know he is. I don't think Terry would ever forget or forgive that beloved ran off or forgive himself that even with all his resources, connections and money, he couldn't find them. That such a thing was beyond his control. His feelings oscillate from wrath, to desperation, to bitterness and 'You left and I feel good about it' to outright depression and bouts of manic sadness over the fact that the love of his life left him and that he cannot discover their whereabouts them no matter how hard he tries. He wouldn't tell his therapist about it. I think he'd be proud. I think he’d also be far too hurt to let anyone rummage around that wound. He'd leave that bit of information conveniently out. I feel he'd be too closed off to expose a major weakness in the fact that his beloved ran out on his thirty years ago and that he hasn't recovered from it and that he doesn't know where they are. John 'ran out' on him too, for decades. Seems like Terry's cursed to where everyone he actually loves escapes him. And those who don’t? Those who don’t, he has an abundance of time with.

The irony of that is bittersweet.

He would’ve never married (which he hasn’t), he would’ve kept his feelings on lockdown (which he has), he would’ve maintained himself properly detached, and distant, politely cold and he would’ve been a grieving man without anyone noticing that, because he doesn’t want it noticed that he’s been using all his power for years and years to still hold unto a glimmer of hope that some trace of beloved will pop up, somehow, somewhere in the world. That they would come back to him. That he’d force them back. Yes. He would. His surroundings would reflect his sorrow and unhinged state of mind, conveniently hidden beneath the surface, in his own environment. Oil paintings featuring the same person Terry, now an old man, shrugging the image off as an artistic muse invented by some coveted painter. Statues of the same individual, also tucked away as ‘an aesthetic’. Songs dedicated to beloved he plays on the piano, without anyone knowing who it is. Him naming certain things after beloved, again, without anyone knowing; like for example a yacht or a boat --- a seasonal line of expensive wines in his cellar --- and people in his social circle merely thinking he’s an eccentric Billionaire doing things without too much rhyme or reason, other than for the fanciness of it. But, beloved’s always there. In every facet of Terry’s life. They’re entrenched in everything. Always. Obsessively so.

Why?

Because Terry would’ve loved them above everyone all his life.

And he would’ve never stopped looking.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #old man terry #80's terry silver #yandere #tw; heartbreak #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #thank you friendo #you're so sweet

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goggles-mcgee · 3 years

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FUCK FREUD CLUB SHENANIGANS because I didn't think people would enjoy my little idea so much and I have more to share!

• Harley who may have been drinking a bit: "I gotta admit Brucie babe, I, like many of our classmates, had a little crush on you!"

Jonathan who was getting more comfortable without wearing his Scarecrow hood, also who has been drinking too: "Confession, I also had a crush on you Wayne."

Bruce, now blushing and wondering if he made the Sangria too strong for this week's club meeting: "Well I'm flattered. If we're being honest here, I did have a crush on you Crane after you went off on Professor Kingsley when he said Freud was a genius."

Jonathan, now also slightly blushing: "Stop Mister Wayne or the media will somehow get wind of that and it'll be the new scandal."

Harley: "Speaking of scandal! Have you guys heard about the latest fight Pengy and Riddler had? I heard they legit got into a fight in front of the Bat!"

Sometimes their club meetings turns into gossip sharing.

• Harley bursting into Bruce's Study with Jonathan right behind her: "You're being played by George Clooney!?"

Jonathan: "You agreed to be the secret identity of Batman!?"

Bruce who was plotting Jason's second funeral and Tim's first: "My son's forged my signature on those papers. Then the other's heard about it and got so excited and I couldn't back out! Especially after Cass made me a card! She made me a card!"

Harley: "Pushover."

Jonathan: "People pleaser."

Bruce with his head in his hands: "Arnold Schwarzenegger is Mr. Freeze....Uma Thurman is Poison Ivy....Should I be worried that they'll attack me more after the movie?"

Harley now super excited: "They're in the movie!?"

• Jonathan standing next to a white board as he hosts this week's club meeting: "Today's club meeting will start off with our absolute favorite thing we hate about Freud. After that Harley has designed a Family Feud style game where Bruce, you and I will go against each other and guess Freud's stupidest idea's and studies based off Harley's questions. Winner takes home the homemade Fuck Freud Trophy which is a golden hand giving off the middle finger."

Bruce and Harley lifting up their hands in unison and solemnly flipping off a picture of Freud: "Fuck Freud."

• Bruce being held "hostage" by Two-Face before looking at the clock: "Oh shit. Harv? Can we like, reschedule this? I have a club meeting and I'm in charge of snacks this week."

Two-Face: "You...want to reschedule a hostage situation? For a club?"

Bruce, completely serious: "Yes."

• Harley got them Letterman jackets for the club, of course personalized. Jon even got them mugs for the club. Bruce caved and got them pens and pins made for the club.

His kids do not understand why he goes along with the club but they have also never seen their dad so normal and happy.

Clark gets jealous.

• Bruce walking in late to a club meeting with Starbucks for everybody: "You would not believe the nightmare I had last night."

Jonathan already pulling out a clipboard and pen: "Tell us all about it."

Harley coughing to hide her chuckles: "Yes tell the dream psychologist that has a nightmare kink all about your scary dream."

Jonathan who is blushing now, is it in anger? Is it in embarrassment? Who knows: "One class! One dream psychology class! And I do not have a fear kink!"

Bruce finally taking his seat: "Denial. Interesting. Now let's acknowledge the fact that Harley said you had a nightmare kink not fear kink. Do you want to discuss that further Mr. Crane?"

Jonathan throwing a pen at Bruce: "We were talking about you not me Rich Boy!"

Bruce and Harley cackling.

• Jonathan and Harley are still villains but they kind of start to edge into the anti-hero stage of things. Nobody knows why expect Bruce and he's so proud.

• They actually call each other on their bad days. Harley yelled at Bruce about being more open with his kids and he actually really took it to heart. Jon got collectively yelled at about his self esteem issues and taking better care of himself because no Jon, a human can't just survive off corn and sweet tea. Harley had a tough love session when Bruce and Jon had to tell her just how bad Joker was to her and yeah she realized that but she shouldn't be afraid to get into a relationship with someone just because of that past toxic relationship.

• Bruce's kids actually start to get comfortable with Harley and Jonathan being around the house from time to time. It's still weird to them but they see first hand the changes that all three are going through.

• Bruce babysits Lou and Bud for Harley whenever she needs him too or if she gets in trouble and is sent to Arkham. Damian loves helping out with them.

• Batman may or may not have taken the long way to the university when he heard Scarecrow took over the Psych 101 class because the teacher was obviously incompetent Bats. He was teaching young impressionable minds!

• Bruce admits to them that he hates the whole 'Playboy Billionaire' role he used to play and can't seem to escape from. Especially because he's a dad now, it's not like he can really afford to be a playboy.

• Harley insists on teaching Bruce how to fight because she can't believe how often he gets himself into bad situations.

Jonathan agrees about this and even gives Bruce some of his Fear Toxin in case he ever has to use it in defense to get away from anyone. He even put it in a pepper spray-like bottle so it would go unnoticed.

I have so much more headcanons but here are a few XD

Enjoy

#dc comics #batman rogues #batman comics #bruce wayne #harleen quinzel #harley bruce and john brotp #harley quinn #dc harley quinn #jonathan crane #scarecrow #dc scarecrow #med school brotp #gotham shenanigans #batman headcanon #the fuck freud club #official fuck freud club

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akirascrybaby · 3 years

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Crybaby

i was watching devilman crybaby and thought about how akira reminded me a bit of eren, i added that to my love of whiny eren and melanie martinez’s crybaby and boom, this fic was born.

ik the fandom loves toxic eren, but i adore crybaby eren more

cw: sub!eren, dom!reader, fem bodied reader, lots of smut.

notes: there’s nothing wrong with being emotional or in touch with your feelings! i’m a highly emotional person as well

it’s ironic how i went from being too shy to write smut to writing this

Eren Jaeger was a lot of things. He was whiny, pathetic, always expected his mother, Mikasa or Zeke to clean up after him, but worse of all, he was unbearingly emotional.

His friends and family would claim that Eren cried more than he spoke, and Eren couldn’t even argue against that without bursting into tears himself.

His own father, Grisha, claimed that Eren spent the first 7 years of his life crying non-stop, and while everyone knew it was a gross over exaggeration, they were also aware of the fact the tears seemed to constantly flow from Eren’s eyes like a waterfall, and the smallest comment or action could set him off.

There was that time his close friends Connie and Sasha threw some rubbish on the ground. Not exactly a good thing to do of course, but instead of sternly telling them off, like Armin and Marco did, or giving them a disgusted look; like Jean and Mikasa did, Eren just started crying.

He wasn’t even aware of it until a concerned Marco pulled him aside and asked if everything was okay, and Eren had to reassure him he was fine through broken sniffles.

“I’m okay Marco, but what Sasha and Connie just did was wrong. W-what about our environment? What if we got caught? We-“ Eren never did finished his little rant, since he was too caught up in sniffles and hiccups that he couldn’t even form any words no more.

His friends were surprised, but they had gotten used to that before by now. Instead, they walked the wailing boy home, showering him with apologies and excuses.

There was also that time where he was at the gym with another friend of his, Reiner. The pair were in the locker room after their intense workout, and Reiner was gushing over his younger cousin winning some athletic award at her school, and rambling on about how it was “something in the Braun family”. Reiner was shocked to hear a sniffling sound from the bench behind him, and quickly turned around to see a crying Eren furiously wiping his tears away.

“Eren are you alright?”

“You must be so proud.” He hiccuped, wiping away a mixture of snot and tears that made the larger blond man grimace. “She’s growing up so fast and one day she’ll-“

“Eren. Enough. Go clean yourself up and we’ll grab something to eat afterwards, okay?”

The problem was, it seemed that everyone in Eren’s life had grown far too used with Eren’s behaviour.

Sure, it agitated them whenever they would be laughing and tears would be flowing from his eyes without warning.

Of course, it irritated them that they couldn’t express themselves sometimes without hurting Eren’s feelings, because Eren was just far too passionate about everything. He wore his heart on this sleeve, and had a faucet in his eyes.

Eren was a crybaby. What could they do about that?

What could anyone do about that?

—————————————-

For the first time in your life, you were actually excited to be starting a new job.

Sure, hearing the word “work” alone was enough to make you violently throw up while banging your head on the nearest counter, but until you were able to secure a rich billionaire, your part time job at the local cafè had to do.

Everything seemed quite simple at first, your co-workers were decent. Aside from Colt constantly spilling drinks and Porco losing his temper over nothing, the work environment seemed pleasant enough for you. Your assistant manager, Pieck, was nice enough to show you around and help you with your every need. Serving drinks all day also gave you a chance to socialize with others, which equally seemed ideal since you lived a somewhat isolated life.

It was quite hard however. Even though you were doing everything you were meant to, smiling and having small talk with the customers, occasionally laughing with your co-workers, having coffee with Pieck, you never actually felt anything.

In fact, the first time you found yourself feeling anything was when Porco accidentally fell trying to grab some of the freshly ground coffee on the top shelf, and you went down to help him.

Granted, he never hurt himself, but a small part of you couldn’t help but feel something at the possibility that he did, and your mind slowly began wondering to the thought of you towering above him, being in control and having him beg for you, having you in complete domination while he was helpless, needing you and you only. It was a dark and twisted thought, and one that you kept tucked away in that dark abyss you called a mind.

A week into the job, Pieck informed everyone that a man named Eren, Aaron? You never quite got the name down right, would be returning back to work. You didn’t care of course, until you heard Porco complain about him.

“I’d actually prefer working with Braun over Jaeger, and that explains a lot. I can’t fucking stand that crybaby.”

Crybaby, you wondered? Nonetheless, you pretended to be at the till while eavesdropping on their conversation.

“He’s not that bad Galli.” Colt said, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Sure he can be a little bit, uh, emotional from time to time, but he’s a good guy.”

“He’s fucking pathetic. Didn’t he cry about coffee when he was last here? Everything makes him cry, it’s a wonder he hasn’t shriveled up yet.”

“Pock!!!!”

The three of you turned around, only to see Pieck storm over and slap Porco on the head.

“Eren’s a nice guy, he’s just sensitive. Please be nice, okay?”

You only heard about Eren through your co-workers brief conversations, but the thought of having to work alongside someone like him day in day out seemed exhausting.

Why would anyone would to be around a fucking crybaby?

—————————————

Meeting Eren seemed to go exactly as your co-workers predicated.

Upon stepping foot into the cafè, he began wiping away a few tears and warmly hugged everyone, gushing about how much he’s missed them and that he hoped they were all okay, while making his way to the backroom.

You observed this interaction from the corner of your eye while mopping the floor, all the while agreeing with Porco with how pathetic Eren seemed to be.

Despite his crybaby behavior however, you did find yourself somewhat attracted to him. He was tall and easily towered over you, had eyes that seemed to reflect the greenery of the Amazon rainforest, and had his long brown hair tied up in a neat bun. His shirt hugged his tight muscles and you found your eyes wandering down to his giant hands, thinking about how he could very easily-

“Oh my God!??”

You found yourself being rudely interrupted from your thoughts by a screaming Eren, and rushed over to the backroom to find the tall man leaning over a hole in the wall. His face seemed to be a mixture of intrigue and concern, and it wasn’t until you followed his ray of vision that you saw what he was looking at.

A rat.

No, a giant titanic rat in the corner of the backroom, where food and drinks were stored.

Your first instinct was to grab a broom from behind you and to whack the rat, but you were swiftly stopped by Eren, who grabbed the broom and threw it across the room.

Two thoughts flew past your mind at that moment.

Firstly, the audacity, and secondly, is this man insane?

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you began, crossing your arms across your chest and smirking, “but there’s a fucking rat over there and I’d like to kill it before one of our customers finds a rat baby in their almond latte.”

“What? Wait what? You want to kill it?” Eren yelled back, placing a hand on his head and pacing around in distress. You raised an eyebrow, confused, but nonetheless unfazed by his behavior.

“It’s an animal, a living being, and regardless if it’s a rat or not, you can’t kill it. I won’t let you.” He exclaimed, suddenly bursting into tears, struggling to find the words to explain himself without the floodgates opening.

“You’re going to give your life up for a rat? Is that the way you want to go?” You replied back in a monotone voice, somewhat amused by the scene unfolding in front of you.

“You don’t understand, you can’t hurt them. Can’t you feel it?” Eren whined back, crying at your nonchalant attitude to killing this rat.

You never had a chance to ask him what he meant by it, since what he did next had you standing there in shock. Eren walked over to the small hole in the corner and grabbed the rat, gently brushing its fur while giving it a warm smile.

The rat stopped squirming around and seemed to lean into Eren’s touch. You continued standing there, completely dumbfounded, while Eren walked to the backdoor and let the rat go.

“I mean this is the nicest way possible, but what the fuck is wrong with you?” You asked, dragging your feet over to Eren, who was still standing at the backdoor with a glazed look on his eyes.

He seemed to completely ignore your question, instead pointing to the wall outside. You followed the route of his finger to see the same rat surrounded by a bunch of smaller of rats, and if your guess was correct, the smaller rats were feeding off the larger one.

“It’s beautiful isn’t?” Eren whispered, a stray tear escaping his eyes. “Life is so beautiful and I can’t believe I reunited a family.”

“It’s just a rat.” You shot back, but he never heard you, instead too caught up in his own thoughts. He turned over to you, and just smiled, causing you to move away with a scowl on your face.

“What the hell Eren? Stop smiling at me like that pervert.”

“You know,” he muttered, leaning closer to you. “You’re a good person. I can feel it.”

He was pathetic, and you knew that. So why on earth did you feel a small tinge in your heart after hearing his words?

———————————————

A few weeks passed since the infamous “rat incident”. You and Eren continued working side by side, and he seemed desperate to get to know you better, constantly asking you questions and being by your side, which infuriated you to no end.

You tried complaining to Pieck, but she just laughed it off, saying that was just Eren, always trying to reach out to people and help them.

Help them? You wondered. You were doing perfectly fine, and the last thing you needed was help from a manchild like him.

You decided your best tactic would be to just ignore him and constantly be on the move, which seemed to work, until a few days later when you were working the till and Eren was sweeping up behind you.

An old lady had walked in, ordered two drinks and a few snacks, and was standing there, anxiously twirling her fingers. She kept looking at the door, as if she was waiting for someone, and kept checking her watch just as often.

You brushed off her behaviour and continued preparing her drinks, but Eren noticed the woman’s actions and found himself intrigued. He put his broom down and walked over to her, offering her a warm smile.

“Excuse me ma’am, but I couldn’t help but wonder if you were okay?” He asked, paying close attention to her body language just in case her words betrayed her.

“I’m alright thank you.” The old woman replied, placing her hand on Eren’s to reassure him. “I’m just waiting for my daughter to arrive, I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Really?” Eren enquired back, leaning forward. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Since she was a child. I couldn’t raise her myself so I had to put her up for adoption. Thankfully she was raised by a wonderful family, and I’ve been in touch with her for quite some time now, and I’m finally seeing her for the first time since I gave her away.” The lady quietly said with a bittersweet smile, blinking back tears.

What shocked you the most wasn’t the lady’s story, but rather Eren’s reaction towards it. As if on cue, tears began flowing from his soft green eyes, and he couldn’t stop himself as the waterworks began. He pulled the lady closer, leading to a raised eyebrow from Porco who happened to walk past at that moment, and proceeded to engulf the lady in a tight hug, whispering about how he felt sorry for her, that he understood her, that he could feel her pain.

You couldn’t help but scoff at his words. Understand? What did he understand?

Pain? How did he feel her pain? What did he know about anyone else’s emotions?

It was just his hero complex, you thought. He was always trying to save everyone around him and carry the weight of their feelings.

He was pitiful, you assured yourself, carrying over the lady’s order and ignoring her and Eren’s symphony of tears, before promptly retreating to the backroom to collect yourself.

But if he really was as pathetic as you convinced yourself he was, why did you find yourself touched by everything he did?

And why did you feel a wet patch forming between your legs at the very thought of him?

________________________________________

“That lady’s story is heartbreaking. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Eren if you don’t stop talking I will throw myself out this car.”

You had finally finished your shift, and due to the universe’s love of playing sadistic games on you, your car had broke down and you couldn’t book yourself a taxi. You awkwardly asked your co-workers to give you a lift home, putting aside your pride since you hated asking others for help.

Pieck sadly turned you down, stating that she and her partner Hange were having a date night, Colt had to pick his brother up from his swimming lesson, and Porco said he was meeting someone for dinner, and you’re pretty sure that meant Reiner, and that unfortunetly left you with one option.

Eren.

The thought of Eren driving you home, talking non stop, then bursting into tears over a hedgehog on the side of the road.

Maybe crawling home isn’t such a bad idea, you wondered.

Eren, being the tentative man he was, seemed to sense that something was bothering you, and after quizzing a stressed out Colt, he promptly grabbed you by the arm and began steering you to his car, insisting that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and that the two of you were friends. He had to help you, and had to make sure you got home safe.

Fast forward 15 minutes later, and you’re slumped in the front of his car praying for Eren to shut up, while he was driving and gushing over everything the two of you drove past.

Bored and unable to escape, you leaned back to close your eyes, but caught a faint pink bra in the back of his car. You felt shocked, not only because you couldn’t imagine anyone putting up with Eren for sex since he seemed like the type to burst into tears as soon as you took your top off, but also your own feeling of brief jealousy. Why did the thought of Eren’s face buried in someone else’s thighs make your body burn with envy?

“Eren.” You called out, leading to a swift turn of the head from the tall man next to you, somewhat suprised since you never initated a conversation with him first. “You never told me you had a girlfriend.”

“A, what?” He replied, genuinely confused at your question. “I don’t have a, oh my God. Mikasa?” He exclaimed, eyes following your finger which was pointed towards the bright pink bra behind you both.

“Mikasa?”

“She’s my best friend, we grew up together and she lives with us. She’s dating a mutual friend of ours called Jean. Me and her share this car, so I’m guessing her and Jean were messing about.” He said, slightly grimacing at the thought of the pair of them fucking in his car.

“So you’re not seeing anyone?” You found yourself asking before you could stop yourself.

“No.” He laughed, slightly loosening the grip on the steering wheel. “I’m waiting for the right person. What about you?” He asked, his eyes flickering towards you.

“Not anymore. I just got out of an awful relationship. I drove miles to surprise him only to catch him in bed with his ex, who he was seeing behind my back throughout our entire relationship.” You responded, closing your eyes and feeling a heavy weight go off your shoulders.

You rarely spoke about the end of your only and most heartbreaking relationship, prefering to deal with it the same way you deal with everything else. Pretending it never happened.

Silence befell the car afterwards, and you kept your eyes closed for a few minutes as Eren drove into your apartment driveway. You felt the car come to a stop and opened your eyes to thank him, only to see him staring ahead with tears rolling down his eyes. He looked heartbroken, almost the same way you did when you walked in on your ex in bed with his ex, and for a brief second you remembered the words he said to you all those weeks ago.

I can feel your pain.

“Eren-”

“What he did was wrong, how could he hurt you like that? Why are some people so awful, how does he live with himself?” He rambled, tears now pouring and wails escaping his lips.

You sat there dumbfounded, unsure of what to do, before deciding to invite him upstairs to your apartment for a drink. While you didn’t want to admit it, a small part of you felt touched by Eren’s reaction, and somewhat aroused by the sight of his tears.

Eren quickly agreed to your offer, and a few drinks later, the pair of you were relaxing on your sofa and watching a dull romance made for TV movie, and you found yourself slowly laying your head on Eren’s shoulder, slightly tired from your long day. You weren’t sure how long you were lying there, since next thing you knew you felt something watery on top of your head, and bolted up to see Eren crying. Again.

The rational part of you would have ignored him, and told him to go home since you both had an early shift tomorrow morning. The emotional side of you would have tried to calm him down and talk some sense into him.

But the third side of you, a darker and unknown part of you, felt slightly turned on, and wanted to see more tears falling from his pretty green eyes. Not knowing what overcame you, you crashed your lips onto his, tasting his salty tears.

Eren was confused, but quickly began mirroring your actions, attempting to wrap an arm around your waist. You grabbed his arm and pushed him down on the sofa, straddling his waist with your legs and continuing to kiss him, making it very clear that you were the one in control here.

His mouth fell open with ectasy and his face was painted with surprise, and you moved your body a bit lower only to feel his hard rock erection poking through his trousers. You barely touched him and he was already falling apart, he really was pathetic.

“I bet you really want to tell me something but you can’t talk without crying, can you?” You purred in his ear, resulting in Eren bucking his hips up in a desperate need to feel you.

“I-. I don’t, please touch me.” He whimpered, tears of pleasure coating his pretty eyes. “Please, I need you.”

“I haven’t even done anything and you’re already coming apart? You pathetic crybaby.” You said, resulting in a moan escaping Eren’s lips. He was just as deranged as you were.

You started to slowly remove all your clothing aside from your bra and panties, and slowly began to grind your clothed slit on his clothed shaft, and placed your fingers in his mouth to silence him. He tried reaching out to remove your bra but you swatted his arm away and he instantly placed his arms beside him, eager to please you.

“You’re just misunderstood, aren’t you Eren? You cry because you can feel everything and it hurts you, doesn’t it?” He whimpered at your words and you placed your fingers deeper into his mouth, resulting in a small gag falling from his lips as you continued to grind on him even faster. “You’ve just got a massive heart, don’t you, crybaby?”

Eren furiously nodded at your words, still bucking his hips upwards and so desperate to touch you, but obidently kept his arms next to him, not wanting to disregard your command earlier, and was now sobbing around your fingers. You stopped your grinding and slowly removed your fingers from his mouth, and you and Eren’s eyes remained fixated on the string of saliva that followed it.

You slid off his body to remove your own bra and panties, leading to a whine from Eren, who was clearly distraught over the fact that he never got to take them off for you. You motioned for him to copy you, and within seconds he was just as bare as you were, lying back on the sofa and obidently watching you.

You climbed on top of him again, but instead of paying attention to his hard and aching member, you dragged yourself up across his chest until your wet core was over his collarbone, and began rubbing, instantly moaning at the feeling of his collarbone grinding against your clit.

To say Eren was in heaven was an understatement. He tried to rub his tears away but you grabbed his hand, telling him to let the tears flow, and that he looked so pretty when he cried, and that he was your good boy, your pretty crybaby.

Eren was sure his heart was going to explode from the praise, and he placed his hands on your hips, helping you move quicker against his collarbone. The combination of Eren’s tears and the feeling on your aching core rubbing against him was too much, and you came all over his chest.

Eren, being the sweet crybaby he was, cleaned your juices from his chest and smiled at you, almost as if he experienced your own release. He reached his hand towards you and slowly caressed your cheek.

“That was amazing, you’re amazing. You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, a stark contrast to his earlier sobs.

He looked so serene, with his lovely green eyes blown with lust, and his cheeks coated with a mixture of new and dried tears. He was so sweet, and content with leaving everything there, just as long as you were happy. How could you deny him when he looked so pretty below you, placing your own pleasure above his?

You moved further back across his body and gently touched his aching shaft, before softly stroking it and watching the pretty tears fall from Eren’s face. He held back a sob, trying to retain his composure, but you pulled his face closer, muttering praise in his ears.

“Let’s those tears drown you, Eren.”

You hovered over his cock and began slowly sinking into it as the pair of you hissed in pleasure and the sudden new feeling. Eren laid frozen, trying to process the feeling of being inside you. He buried his head in your shoulder, quietly sobbing in joy.

“Please, please can I move? You feel so good, fuck-“

You placed a kiss on his lips to silence him, before slowly moving your hips back and forth, with Eren bucking up into you as the pair of you chased euphoria.

“You feel so good Eren, my little crybaby.” You moaned, feeling closer to coming a second time as Eren continued pounding into you while gently rubbing your aching clit. “You’re just like me aren’t you?”

Eren never heard the second part, as he was fully sobbing as this point, wondering how someone could feel so good, and secretly hoping you’d let him touch you like this again. His mind was clouded with possibilities of the two of you doing this again in the future, and he was certain he’d had fallen in love with you at this point.

He had a small vision of marrying you, which was pathetic, he knew, but the thought of it drove him to the edge, and he painted your walls white while tears fell from his eyes, and his waterworks was enough to make you clench around him as you came.

An orchestra of sobs and moans filled the room as you both came undone together, and you slightly grimaced as you got off him and fell into his chest. The weight of what had just happened hit you, but rather than be regretful, you leaned into Eren’s touch, who had immediately pulled you closer into a hug as soon as he pulled out, as if he was afraid of you vanishing and leaving him.

A silence befall you both as you quietly laid there listening to each other’s heartbeats, before you turned over to Eren.

“I didn’t mean to call you pathetic. You’re actually kinda nice. There’s nothing wrong with being a crybaby.” You whispered, noticing how his face lit up at your words.

“People mock me all the time for it, but there’s nothing wrong with being a crybaby. I really don’t care what anyone thinks, well, apart from you.” He replied, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Besides, it’s whole reason this happened.”

“Well, maybe I might just let you fuck me again. Crybaby.” You laughed.

“A crybaby who made you come twice.”

“Shut up Eren.”

Suffice to say, Eren and his crybaby tears kept coming back to you since that day.

#eren smut #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x you #snk fanfiction #eren fanfiction

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qqueenofhades · 4 years

Note

Re: the post you reblogged about Bush. I'm 21 and tbh feel like I can only vote for Bernie, can you explain if/why I shouldn't? Thanks and sorry if this is dumb or anything.

Oh boy. Okay, I’ll do my best here. Note that a) this will get long, and b) I’m old, Tired, and I‘m pretty sure my brain tried to kill me last night. Since by nature I am sure I will say something Controversial ™, if anyone reads this and feels a deep urge to inform me that I am Wrong, just… mark it down as me being Wrong and move on with your life. But also, really, you should read this and hopefully think about it. Because while I’m glad you asked this question, it feels like there’s a lot in your cohort who won’t, and that worries me. A lot.

First, not to sound utterly old-woman-in-a-rocking-chair ancient, people who came of age/are only old enough to have Obama be the first president that they really remember have no idea how good they had it. The world was falling the fuck apart in 2008 (not coincidentally, after 8 years of Bush). We came within a flicker of the permanent collapse of the global economy. The War on Terror was in full roar, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were at their height, we had Dick Cheney as the cartoon supervillain before we had any of Trump’s cohort, and this was before Chelsea Manning or Edward Snowden had exposed the extent of NSA/CIA intelligence-gathering/American excesses or there was any kind of public debate around the fact that we were all surveilled all the time. And the fact that a brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama was elected in this climate seems, and still seems tbh, kind of amazing. And Obama was certainly not a Perfect President ™. He had to scale back a lot of planned initiatives, he is notorious for expanding the drone strike/extrajudicial assassination program, he still subscribed to the overall principles of neoliberalism and American exceptionalism, etc etc. There is valid criticism to be made as to how the hopey-changey optimistic rhetoric stacked up against the hard realities of political office. And yet…. at this point, given what we’re seeing from the White House on a daily basis, the depth of the parallel universe/double standards is absurd.

Because here’s the thing. Obama, his entire family, and his entire administration had to be personally/ethically flawless the whole time (and they managed that – not one scandal or arrest in eight years, against the legions of Trumpistas now being convicted) because of the absolute frothing depths of Republican hatred, racial conspiracy theories, and obstruction against him. (Remember Merrick Garland and how Mitch McConnell got away with that, and now we have Gorsuch and Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court? Because I remember that). If Obama had pulled one-tenth of the shit, one-twentieth of the shit that the Trump administration does every day, he would be gone. It also meant that people who only remember Obama think he was typical for an American president, and he wasn’t. Since about… Jimmy Carter, and definitely since Ronald Reagan, the American people have gone for the Trump model a lot more than the Obama model. Whatever your opinion on his politics or character, Obama was a constitutional law professor, a community activist, a neighborhood organizer and brilliant Ivy League intellectual who used to randomly lie awake at night thinking about income inequality. Americans don’t value intellectualism in their politicians; they just don’t. They don’t like thinking that “the elites” are smarter than them. They like the folksy populist who seems fun to have a beer with, and Reagan/Bush Senior/Clinton/Bush Junior sold this persona as hard as they possibly could. As noted in said post, Bush Junior (or Shrub as the late, great Molly Ivins memorably dubbed him) was Trump Lite but from a long-established political family who could operate like an outwardly civilized human.

The point is: when you think Obama was relatively normal (which, again, he wasn’t, for any number of reasons) and not the outlier in a much larger pattern of catastrophic damage that has been accelerated since, again, the 1980s (oh Ronnie Raygun, how you lastingly fucked us!), you miss the overall context in which this, and which Trump, happened. Like most left-wingers, I don’t agree with Obama’s recent and baffling decision to insert himself into the 2020 race and warn the Democratic candidates against being too progressive or whatever he was on about. I think he was giving into the same fear that appears to be motivating the remaining chunk of Joe Biden’s support: that middle/working-class white America won’t go for anything too wild or that might sniff of Socialism, and that Uncle Joe, recalled fondly as said folksy populist and the internet’s favorite meme grandfather from his time as VP, could pick up the votes that went to Trump last time. And that by nature, no one else can.

The underlying belief is that these white voters just can’t support anything too “un-American,” and that by pushing too hard left, Democratic candidates risk handing Trump a second term. Again: I don’t agree and I think he was mistaken in saying it. But I also can’t say that Obama of all people doesn’t know exactly the strength of the political machine operating against the Democratic Party and the progressive agenda as a whole, because he ran headfirst into it for eight years. The fact that he managed to pass any of his legislative agenda, usually before the Tea Party became a thing in 2010, is because Democrats controlled the House and Senate for the first two years of his first term. He was not perfect, but it was clear that he really did care (just look up the pictures of him with kids). He installed smart, efficient, and scandal-free people to do jobs they were qualified for. He gave us Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor to join RBG on the Supreme Court. All of this seems… like a dream.

That said: here we are in a place where Biden, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren are the front-runners for the Democratic nomination (and apparently Pete Buttigieg is getting some airplay as a dark horse candidate, which… whatever). The appeal of Biden is discussed above, and he sure as hell is not my favored candidate (frankly, I wish he’d just quit). But Sanders and Warren are 85% - 95% similar in their policy platforms. The fact that Michael “50 Billion Dollar Fortune” Bloomberg started rattling his chains about running for president is because either a Sanders or Warren presidency terrifies the outrageously exploitative billionaire capitalist oligarchy that runs this country and has been allowed to proceed essentially however the fuck they like since… you guessed it, the 1980s, the era of voodoo economics, deregulation, and the free market above all. Warren just happens to be ten years younger than Sanders and female, and Sanders’ age is not insignificant. He’s 80 years old and just had a heart attack, and there’s still a year to go to the election. It’s also more than a little eye-rolling to describe him as the only progressive candidate in the race, when he’s an old white man (however much we like and approve of his policy positions). And here’s the thing, which I think is a big part of the reason why this polarized ideological purity internet leftist culture mistrusts Warren:

She may have changed her mind on things in the past.

Scary, right? I sound like I’m being facetious, but I’m not. An argument I had to read with my own two eyes on this godforsaken hellsite was that since Warren became a Democrat around the time Clinton signed Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, she sekritly hated gay people and might still be a corporate sellout, so on and etcetera. (And don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that DADT, coming a few years after the height of the AIDS crisis which was considered God’s Judgment of the Icky Gays, was the best Clinton could realistically hope to achieve, but this smacks of White Gay Syndrome anyway and that is a whole other kettle of fish.) Bernie has always demonstrably been a democratic socialist, and: good for him. I’m serious. But because there’s the chance that Warren might not have thought exactly as she does now at any point in her life, the hysterical and paranoid left-wing elements don’t trust that she might not still secretly do so. (Zomgz!) It’s the same element that’s feeding cancel culture and “wokeness.” Nobody can be allowed to have shifted or grown in their opinions or, like a functional, thoughtful, non-insane adult, changed their beliefs when presented with compelling evidence to the contrary. To the ideological hordes, any hint of uncertainty or past failure to completely toe the line is tantamount to heresy. Any evidence of any other belief except The Correct One means that this person is functionally as bad as Trump. And frankly, it’s only the Sanders supporters who, just as in 2016, are threatening to withhold their vote in the general election if their preferred candidate doesn’t win the primary, and indeed seem weirdly proud about it.

OK, boomer Bernie or Buster.

Here’s the thing, the thing, the thing: there is never going to be an American president free of the deeply toxic elements of American ideology. There just won’t be. This country has been built how it has for 250 years, and it’s not gonna change. You are never going to have, at least not in the current system, some dream candidate who gets up there and parrots the left-wing talking points and attacks American imperialism, exceptionalism, ravaging global capitalism, military and oil addiction, etc. They want to be elected as leader of a country that has deeply internalized and taken these things to heart for its entire existence, and most of them believe it to some degree themselves. So this groupthink white liberal mentality where the only acceptable candidate is this Perfect Non-Problematic robot who has only ever had one belief their entire lives and has never ever wavered in their devotion to doctrine has really gotten bad. The Democratic Party would be considered… maybe center/mild left in most other developed countries. It’s not even really left-wing by general standards, and Sanders and Warren are the only two candidates for the nomination who are even willing to go there and explicitly put out policy proposals that challenge the systematic structure of power, oppression, and exploitation of the late-stage capitalist 21st century. Warren has the billionaires fussed, and instead of backing down, she’s doubling down. That’s part of why they’re so scared of her. (And also misogyny, because the world is depressing like that.) She is going head-on after picking a fight with some of the worst people on the planet, who are actively killing the rest of us, and I don’t know about you, but I like that.

Of course: none of this will mean squat if she (or the eventual Democratic winner, who I will vote for regardless of who it is, but as you can probably tell, she’s my ride or die) don’t a) win the White House and then do as they promised on the campaign trail, and b) don’t have a Democratic House and Senate willing to have a backbone and pass the laws. Even Nancy Pelosi, much as she’s otherwise a badass, held off on opening a formal impeachment inquiry into Trump for months out of fear it would benefit him, until the Ukraine thing fell into everyone’s laps. The Democrats are really horrible at sticking together and voting the party line the way Republicans do consistently, because Democrats are big-tent people who like to think of themselves as accepting and tolerant of other views and unwilling to force their members’ hands. The Republicans have no such qualms (and indeed, judging by their enabling of Trump, have no qualms at all).

The modern American Republican party has become a vehicle for no-holds-barred power for rich white men at the expense of absolutely everything and everyone else, and if your rationale is that you can’t vote for the person opposing Donald Goddamn Trump is that you’re just not vibing with them on the language of that one policy proposal… well, I’m glad that you, White Middle Class Liberal, feel relatively safe that the consequences of that decision won’t affect you personally. Even if we’re due to be out of the Paris Climate Accords one day after the 2020 election, and the issue of climate change now has the most visibility it’s ever had after years of big-business, Republican-led efforts to deny and discredit the science, hey, Secret Corporate Shill, am I right? Can’t trust ‘er. Let’s go have a craft beer.

As has been said before: vote as far left as you want in the primary. Vote your ideology, vote whatever candidate you want, because the only way to make actual, real-world change is to do that. The huge, embedded, all-consuming and horrible system in which we operate is not just going to suddenly be run by fairy dust and happy thoughts overnight. Select candidates that reflect your values exactly, be as picky and ideologically militant as you want. That’s the time to do that! Then when it comes to the general election:

America is a two-party system. It sucks, but that’s the case. Third-party votes, or refraining from voting because “it doesn’t matter” are functionally useless at best and actively harmful at worst.

Either the Democratic candidate or Donald Trump will win the 2020 election.

There is absolutely no length that the Republican/GOP machine, and its malevolent allies elsewhere, will not go to in order to secure a Trump victory. None.

Any talk whatsoever about “progressive values” or any kind of liberal activism, coupled with a course of action that increases the possibility of a Trump victory, is hypocritical at best and actively malicious at worst.

This is why I found the Democratic response to Obama’s “don’t go too wild” comments interesting. Bernie doubled down on the fact that his plans have widespread public support, and he’s right. (Frankly, the fact that Sanders and Warren are polling at the top, and the fact that they’re politicians and would not be crafting these campaign messages if they didn’t know that they were being positively received, says plenty on its own). Warren cleverly highlighted and praised Obama’s accomplishments in office (i.e. the Affordable Care Act) and didn’t say squat about whether she agreed or disagreed with him, then went right back to campaigning about why billionaires suck. And some guy named Julian Castro basically blew Obama off and claimed that “any Democrat” could beat Trump in 2020, just by nature of existing and being non-insane.

This is very dangerous! Do not be Julian Castro!

As I said in my tags on the Bush post: everyone assumed that sensible people would vote for Kerry in 2004. Guess what happened? Yeah, he got Swift Boated. The race between Obama and McCain in 2008, even after those said nightmare years of Bush, was very close until the global crash broke it open in Obama’s favor, and Sarah Palin was an actual disqualifier for a politician being brazenly incompetent and unprepared. (Then again, she was a woman from a remote backwater state, not a billionaire businessman.) In 2012, we thought Corporate MormonBot Mitt Fuggin’ Romney was somehow the worst and most dangerous candidate the Republicans could offer. In 2016, up until Election Day itself, everyone assumed that HRC was a badly flawed candidate but would win anyway. And… we saw how that worked out. Complacency is literally deadly.

I was born when Reagan was still president. I’m just old enough to remember the efforts to impeach Clinton over forcing an intern to give him a BJ in the Oval Office (This led by the same Republicans making Donald Trump into a darling of the evangelical Christian right wing.) I’m definitely old enough to remember 9/11 and how America lost its mind after that, and I remember the Bush years. And, obviously, the contrast with Obama, the swing back toward Trump, and everything that has happened since. We can’t afford to do this again. We’re hanging by a thread as it is, and not just America, but the entire planet.

So yes. By all means, vote for Sanders in the primary. Then when November 3, 2020 rolls around, if you care about literally any of this at all, hold your nose if necessary and vote straight-ticket Democrat, from the president, to the House and Senate, to the state and local offices. I cannot put it more strongly than that.

#politics for ts #long post #anonymous #ask

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tracybirds · 3 years

Text

Paper Dreams

John receives a prestigious invite and he’s not sure how to respond.

Many thanks to @gumnut-logic for the encouragement because I am nerves!!

* * *

The crisp white envelope was heavy in his hands as he hurried from the room. Paper was a formality, a mark of distinction that would surely draw his brothers’ unwanted attention. Letters didn’t just arrive unannounced in this era of high-speed data connections and quantum supercomputers. In fact, they didn’t arrive at all.

So, John was more than a little apprehensive when Grandma Tracy silently handed him the sealed envelope and walked away.

It took only a few short minutes to read through the contents and he sat back against the window in his room, the words whirling in his mind.

Mars Colonisation Project. Distinguished candidate. Invited to apply.

An opportunity of a lifetime.

A way to prove for once and for all that he was more than his father’s famous name.

John clutched at the letter, the paper crinkling in his grasp. He mouthed the words as he read them, over and over.

He looked up at the sound of a loud yell calling his name, hurriedly shoving the letter into the envelope and dropping it at his side. Snatching up a nearby tablet, his flushed ears were the only hint of the letter that remained when Gordon shoved open the door.

“John, dinner, hurry up.”

His brother tore out of the room before he could respond.

* * *

John slipped into his seat, mouthing an apology to Grandma Tracy as he did.

“Finally!” cried Alan. He wriggled back in his seat, staring hopefully at the food. “Grandma said we had to wait for you, you took forever!”

“Is Dad not eating?” asked Virgil. “I heard him come in.”

“He’s taking it in the study tonight,” said Grandma Tracy, shaking her head slightly. “Brains dropped by and they’re holing up together on that project of theirs.”

John glanced over at the conspicuously empty seat at the head of table. They all knew what ‘that project’ meant.

In the heady rush of excitement, he’d all but forgotten the silent expectation that accompanied his studies and extra-curriculars for the past five years. A pet project alone wouldn’t have been enough to deter him from his own ambitions, but the Thunderbirds, they offered something different, something more than the office politics of academia, squabbling over research grants.

He’d never known anything that could compete.

Until now.

“Hey,” said Virgil in a low tone, nudging him from his thoughts. “You okay?”

John pulled himself back into the present with a slight grimace.

“Fine. Just thinking about an assignment.”

Virgil nodded slowly, looking him up and down with a critical eye.

“Are you going to eat anything, or just push it around?”

John automatically lifted his fork, blinking as the peas fell back to the plate and landed in a pile of mushy, grey potatoes.

“Actually, I’m not that hungry.”

“Can I have yours?” asked Alan, already reaching over to grab at his plate.

“Not hungry, John?” asked Grandma Tracy. “You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

She examined the pinched look in his face and the nervous twist of one hand inside the other.

“No,” said John, wishing he hadn’t said anything. The last thing he wanted was any level of scrutiny. “I’m fine, Grandma, honest.”

He let Alan scrape his leftovers from his plate, realising with a pang than he’d had another growth spurt over the previous semester at his boarding school.

If he left for Mars, he’d return to a brother he’d hardly recognise.

Colonisation was a long-term project, the result of years in planning and decades of dreams. Countless people would put their life’s work into its development and they had every right to expect the same of their astronauts. The application process alone was heavily involved and would severely limit time with his family, to say nothing of the many years ahead for him on Mars if he made it all the way into space. He’d be travelling millions of miles from home, only to find himself living with a group of strangers that he couldn’t escape without logging an external environment report.

He didn’t even like sharing a bathroom at the university housing that much.

Still the piece of paper called to him.

“Can I be excused?”

Grandma Tracy nodded and he hurried from the room, not noticing her troubled look.

The warmth of the room followed him into the hallway and he shut the door firmly behind him. He thrust his hand into his pocket, searching for the reassuring touch of cool paper.

It was real.

It was real and if he let the opportunity pass by, he might regret it for the rest of his life.

Or he might be wasting his time, pinning his hopes on something that would only serve to distract him in the long run. He could only imagine what Scott would say, who’d never once taken his eye off a prize once he’d decided to aim for it.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what he wanted, and found himself climbing into the cramped space under the roof that had generously called a playroom, then a study, then an attic.

He blinked as the bare bulb overhead lit the small room, filling it with old memories and dust.

His first telescope was still standing in the corner, pointing high in the sky and he lifted the edge of his T-shirt to wipe the dust away. Surrounding it, lay stacks of books that his mom had picked up from the local thrift store, that Mrs Delaney, the owner, put them aside just for him.

John walked carefully among them, tugging the small window open and staring out into the night. The stars shone bright in the clear, crisp air.

Crouching down, he peered through the eye piece, adjusting the focus with a practiced hand. The little reflector was nothing like the giant telescopes available at the college department, and he had to hold his breath to stop the stand from wobbling. But the universe was still out there, the same as it was when he was a kid, still holding an infinite number of mysteries despite the years he had spent uncovering the rules that held it together.

He looked up, eyes darting through the familiar patterns, searching for the anomaly he knew was wandering between Gemini and Taurus.

And there it was.

Mars.

A planet with so much to offer the world they lived on. Where he could work with a team of people who loved space just like him, where he could devote his life to researching astronomy from a new perspective and developing technology for interplanetary life for generations to come.

Where he could leave his mark alongside all the heroes of his childhood. Alongside his dad.

“After all, why shouldn’t I go?” he said, scowling up at Mars.

“Go where?”

John spun around with a start.

“Kayo! When did you get in?”

She shrugged, propping up her head with her hand.

“Long enough to see you come up here,” she said. “I waited for you, but then Mrs Tracy said you hadn’t eaten. Figured something was wrong.”

She looked him up and down with a piercing eye. John tried not to squirm. He’d always felt Kayo had something of a sixth sense when it came to knowing things that should have been a secret.

“Seems like I was right,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Then where are you planning on going?”

“Nowhere. I don’t think, that is…”

He flopped down and tilted his head back with a huff.

“Not right now, at any rate.”

Kayo pulled herself up onto the floor and drew the ladder upwards.

Neither spoke as the trapdoor shut with a small ‘click’.

The dust swirled in the air, dancing in the shafts of light above them.

“Is it a graduate program?”

“No.”

“An international program?”

“No.”

“A long-term space colonisation program for specially selected candidates who have already proven themselves in the fields of communications, astrophysics and astrotechnology?”

John stared at her.

She shrugged.

“It’s my job to know.”

“So, why even ask?”

“I’m trying to get you to lower your guard.”

She smiled at the dumbfounded look on his face.

“You’ve met Brains, right? He’s got some server tracker that flags your name. They asked your advisor for academic and personal references months ago.”

“Oh God,” said John, dropping his head in his ands and staring wildly at the floor. “Does Dad already know?”

Kayo shook her head.

“Dad and I do. Security details and all. But we don’t tell him that kind of stuff, you know, he’s not spying on you.”

“You’re right, that’s a real comfort,” said John, drily.

Kayo tossed her head.

“I’m just saying.”

Her eyes softened as she watched him draw his knees close to his chest.

“He doesn’t know.” She hesitated, still watching him. “Would it be all that bad if he did though?”

John huffed a little, still staring at his knees.

“International Rescue’s all we’ve ever talked about,” he said. “I didn’t think there’d be anything else I wanted. What if I let him down?”

“He’s already proud of you, John.”

“But we’ve been working towards it for so long now. This would change everything. Delay the full scope of the project for months, or years even.”

Kayo snorted.

“You really think Jeff Tracy, resident billionaire and with access to the best tech in the world, wouldn’t be able to find another genius astrotechnician and communication expert?”

John shot her a withering look.

“Okay, so maybe he’d have to find two super geniuses.”

She easily dodged the picture book he threw in her direction.

“Leave off,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Kayo spotted the slight smile though, and grinned broadly in return.

“Can I?” she asked, nodding at the space between him and the wall.

John nodded and shuffled over as best he could, trying not to topple the book stacks around them.

Kayo wriggled into the gap, and John paid her no mind.

He hadn’t thought of who would take his place because, of course, someone must. He’d been preparing for an International Rescue without him, one where his family diverted communications for a few years and focused their efforts on establishing themselves on land and sea until Alan stepped into his role on Thunderbird Five.

He hadn’t imagined an International Rescue where he wasn’t even needed.

Kayo seemed to sense the turn in his thoughts, nudging him gently to pull him from them.

“He wouldn’t trust them half as much as you, you know.”

John shrugged.

“I don’t want to disappoint him,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “But I don’t want that to be the only reason I don’t go.”

He took a deep breath, and glanced back up at the slowly setting planet.

“And I want to go,” he admitted. “I do. I need to tell him.”

Kayo nodded, a sad look in her eyes. They sat in silence together, lost in their own thoughts. The bustle of the house downstairs filtered upwards. Muffled bangs and indistinct shouts of Gordon and Alan playing some ridiculous game, loud music from Virgil’s room – the kind he put on to drown out any interruption to his painting. Grandma Tracy seemed to be having some kind of one-sided conversation with herself, until John remembered, with a pang, that it was Saturday morning out in Guam and she was likely speaking to Scott at that very moment.

Kayo sighed and dropped her head on John’s shoulder.

“I’d miss you though.”

John swallowed carefully past the sudden lump in his throat.

“I’d miss you too.”

* * *

John was too old to be summoned to his father’s study, but somehow deliberately interrupting him felt worse. Nausea sat like a rock in his stomach, his voice box left in tatters as he knocked on the solid oak door.

“Who is it?”

He couldn’t reply.

His eyes flitted across the family photos that littered the hallway, landing finally on the image of his father and crewmates waving to the masses as they entered the Herschel-VI.

The photograph didn’t show the way his father was blind to the crowd, his farewell only for the woman who stood half a mile from the launchpad, proud, so proud, and sick with worry too. She held tight to her eldest son with one hand, and rested her other on the stroller she was rocking back and forth. She didn’t see the way he had wriggled out of his restraints nor how he was preparing to drop to the ground and run away, already intent on chasing after his father at three years old.

Jeff Tracy, first man on Mars, opened the door with a frown and a touch of impatience, and John knew there would be no escape this time.

“John.”

“Dad.”

His throat closed around his words and his hand closed around the letter in a fist.

Jeff looked down at the sound, and looked back at John, an assessing look in his eye. He stepped back wordlessly and John entered the severe room.

“What’s happened, son?” he asked, holding his hand out for the letter.

He smoothed down the crumpled edges as he read, his eyes leaping from phrase to phrase on the page.

“Well, it seems congratulations are in order. I assume you intend to accept?”

The knot in John’s chest loosened and he collapsed into the chair opposite Jeff.

“I intend to apply,” he corrected, staring down at the desk between them.

“John, they don’t reach out like this unless they want you onboard. They intend you to be on that shuttle, regardless of the formalities the bureaucrats put in place.”

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the blueprints, Brains’ small, neat handwriting annotating each design and his father’s looping comments scrawled liberally across them.

Jeff followed his line of sight and smiled.

“Five won’t be operational for a few more years, you know that. Don’t let her be what holds you back.”

“But this was always it, this is why I’m getting space rated. And the satellite network still needs to be launched, and the orbital mechanics calculated.”

“An opportunity like this doesn’t come your way twice, son.”

John stopped.

“You think I should accept. If they say yes.”

“Don’t you?”

There it was. His father’s blessing laid out in front of him, just waiting to be taken up like a pennant.

Everything they’d worked for, everything they’d sacrificed, gone. In its place, a single shining achievement, a global community on their sister planet. The first of its kind.

It had been a long time since John had allowed himself to dream his own dreams.

“Alright,” he said, a giddy rush spinning his head so that he hardly knew what he was saying. “I’m gonna do it.”

#john tracy #kayo kyrano #jeff tracy #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic

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