#or proofread honestly

[forlorn-crows]

Yours In The End

Rating: M for Mature (and A for Angst)

Pairing(s): Mountain/Aether/Dewdrop

Tags: implied/referenced major character death, implied/referenced banishment, angst, emotional hurt, (attempted) comfort, era iii ghouls.

Words: 1,404

Summary: What would normally be an easy silence hangs oppressive around them, full of things unsaid. Things that could break more than just the quiet if they were said.

Wordlessly, the earth ghoul circles around the couch and slides in beside him. Lanky limbs folding inwards until he cuddles up against him—a wet, newborn pup anchoring itself to his littermate in a blind search for warmth and familiarity. Wee and fresh, all of them just trying to get their bearings.

So, so much has changed.

⛧

Notes: This is the product of multiple days of feeling shitty. Started as a prompt for Mushy May and ran in the fucking opposite direction. Referenced murders of the three Emeritus brothers. Implied/Referenced death/banishment of Zephyr and Ifrit. Essentially, Mountain, Dew, and Aether are alone together, running from ghosts. Not a happy vignette.

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

The fire crackles steadily, quick pops and crumbles of charcoaled wood falling into the hearth. It’s the only light left in the room, the sun having long dipped down past the sills of the leaded glass windows. It coats the small seating area in a dying amber light, the stacks of books behind cast in ominous shadow. It’s late.

And yet. 

Dewdrop sighs, his eyes unable to look away from the dancing flames. Despite being just feet from the fire, wrapped up in a worn quilt, his nose feels like ice, and his cheeks are chilled from the still-wet tracks of tears. They’ve stopped for now, leaving the water ghoul to sniffle and stare. Numb. Unwilling to rise from a stupor he suspects will make its home in his chest for years to come. 

The floor creaks somewhere behind him. Footsteps softly approaching until they join him in his little cocoon of bittersweet comfort. Dew feels their hands in his hair, scooping it out from where it’s trapped beneath layers of cotton and batting. Silver threads gone barren at the ends. Rubbed one too many times between his trembling, nervous fingers. Gentle hands pull it all back, smoothing it around his horns. Silently combing through the tangles and draping the bulk of it over one shoulder. 

“Coming back to bed?” a rumbly, tired voice asks. 

Dew doesn’t say anything as he closes his eyes, flickers of the embers still sparkling behind his eyelids. Mountain shifts behind him, sighing heavily. Hands rubbing idly over his blanketed shoulders. Apart from the fire, the library is eerily quiet when the moment stretches out between them. What would normally be an easy silence hangs oppressive around them, full of things unsaid. Things that could break more than just the quiet if they were said. 

Wordlessly, the earth ghoul circles around the couch and slides in beside him. Lanky limbs folding inwards until he cuddles up against him—a wet, newborn pup anchoring itself to his littermate in a blind search for warmth and familiarity. Wee and fresh, all of them just trying to get their bearings. 

So, so much has changed. 

Mountain swipes a fresh tear from his cheek. Dew barely feels it, but he leans into it anyway, chest heaving with a silent sob. The arms around him grow tighter, and soon he’s surrounded in the earth ghoul’s woody scent. Lips press against his hairline as he wills it all just to stop. 

“You’re cold, waterlily,” he whispers. It’s an obvious, easy thing to state when you have so much else to say. “Will you come back to bed?” 

Dew turns his head to look at him. Through muddled vision he can see the lines of worry beginning to etch themselves into his handsome face. The skin under his eyes is sunken, colored with an almost bruised hue. His normally plump, boyish cheeks are sunken too, the firelight casting them in gaunt shadow. The water ghoul’s sure he doesn’t look much better, with his thinning hair and blotchy face and dead water eyes. 

Dew swallows hard. “I want to go home,” he says in a broken voice. A few more tears fall, soaking into the fraying stitching of the quilt. He doesn’t care if the wish is unrealistic, unreasonable. Pathetic. It’s how he feels. Whatever semblance of home he felt before this has collapsed into rubble and blown away as dust in the wind.   

Mountain shakes his head. Melancholy in a tiny movement. “Come back to bed,” he says, no longer a question. 

“Please don’t be scared of me,” Dew begs. He doesn’t know why he says it. Why he thinks Mountain looks at him with fear as much as love. 

His ears droop. Emerald eyes growing big and round. He reaches out to cradle Dew’s cheek, and the water ghoul fights everything not to flinch away. 

“Dewdrop,” he says softly. Pleading as much as he can in the utterance of only his name. 

The water ghoul nods and looks up towards the cavernous ceilings, praying for the crying to stop. “I know,” he breathes, lip quivering. “I know.” The sadness welling up in Mountain’s own eyes is what pushes him over again, and he lets himself be pulled into his chest with heavy limbs and a heavy heart. Shuddering through waves of grief and anger and directionless emotions that continue to renew instead of release. Mountain whispers promises of not your fault and not going anywhere into his hair, holding him tight. 

It’s a long while before he pulls back for air again. The fire’s turned to ash, smoldering valiantly through its last few flames. Dew can barely register Mountain’s face now, but there’s just enough light to illuminate his temple, the high point of his cheek. Highlighting the way his face has softened and the exhaustion has set in once more. 

“I love you.” It’s all he can think to say. Breathed like a prayer meant only for the Dark One himself. Maybe if he says it enough the three of them will be left alone. While they may have been wronged by mortals Above, he knows his other packmates will be protected eternally Below. 

But Satanas, does it hurt to be spared this time. 

“I love you, too,” Mountain replies easily. Like he’s said it a thousand times before. The earth ghoul casts a glance towards the hearth, looking at it with such concentration that Dew wouldn’t be surprised if he had slipped somewhere else in his mind, far away from reality. But he snaps out of it quickly, turning back to Dew. Hands tugging at the folds of the quilt still wrapped tightly around him. 

“Aether.” He’s waiting now for both of them to come back to bed, Dew knows, most likely pacing or contemplating throwing another glass at the wall. There’s shards still stuck in the piles of the rug from the last time. As much as he could stay here until the last of the fire snuffs out, he shouldn’t. “Come on,” Mountain insists one last time. “Up.”

Dew lets himself be pulled off the couch and into Mountain’s side. Sheltered under his proverbial wing. He pulls him away from the false solace of the fireplace, the embers disappearing behind them as they move throughout the maze of the library. Back through the cavernous, echoing hallways until they reach the ghoul wing. There’s lamplight spilling into the hallway from Mountain’s room—their room, at this point; the only room with a bed big enough for three. None of them can really bear to leave it, nowadays. 

It’s the only place left without ghosts. 

Aether sighs with relief when the two shuffle back into the bedroom. He frowns sadly when he sees tear-stained cheeks and droopy ears; wordlessly, he ushers them back into bed, locking the door behind them and clicking off the lamp. The moonlight shines into the room, casting them all in moody blue. Even if it’s somber, there’s something about the coolness that lifts a weight off Dew’s shoulders every time he’s bathed in it. Exhaustion worms its way out of his joints and floods his system as soon as he’s settled between the two bigger ghouls, eyelids already too heavy to stop from closing. Balsam and ozone curling around him like a gentle breeze caressing the cattails surrounding the lake. 

“Sleep,” Aether says softly, pressing his forehead to Dew’s. Mountain tucks his nose into the nape of his neck, inhaling his scent as he’s done every night since then. A lungful of his crisp apple shampoo (though there’s not much of that today) before he succumbs to sleep. The water ghoul feels his rumbling purr against his back as he burrows further into the quilt. Aether’s soon to follow; whether Dew will reciprocate their calming sounds with his own little purr is a tossup. Especially now. 

Despite the hours of tears, he can feel the sound creep up in his throat. Much like the crackle of a toy with an overused voice box, it’s muffled, fading in and out unpredictably. But the other two hold him tighter at the first stir of it in his chest. 

He’s tired. So, so tired. 

Love you, Aether mouths against his hairline. Just above a whisper, like he’s afraid for someone else to hear. On the edge between awake and asleep, Dew makes a noise he hopes conveys his love in return. 

#the band ghost fanfic #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #mountain/aether/dewdrop #the band ghost #cw: major character death #cw: angst #mushy may? never heard of her. i need to put ghouls Through It for a minute #ghost fanfic #not beta read #or proofread honestly

[aroaceleovaldez]

reminder that the only reason the "ADHD is actually demigod BATTLE STRATEGIES" and "dyslexia is DEMIGOD BRAINS HARDWIRED FOR ANCIENT GREEK" things exist in the PJO universe is because it's a very direct reference to early 2000s teaching/parenting techniques for neurodiverse and disabled children, which aimed to frame childrens' disabilities and hardships as a "superpower" or strength so that the children would feel more positively about their disabilities or situations. This technique has fallen out of favor since then for the most part since more often than not it just results in kids feeling as though their struggles are not being seen or taken seriously.

Yes, demigods are adhd/dyslexic (and sometimes autistic-coded) in the series. This is extremely important and trying to remove it or not acknowledge it makes the entire series fall apart because it is such a core concept. Yes, canon claims that their adhd/dyslexia is tied to some innate abilities, which is based on an outdated methodology. It's important to acknowledge that and understand where it comes from! But please stop trying to apply it to other pantheons in the series like "oh, the romans have dyscalculia because of roman numerals!" or "the norse demigods have dysgraphia for reasons!" - it's distasteful at best.

A better option is to acknowledge the meta inspiration for why that exists in the series, such as explaining potentially that Chiron was utilizing that same teaching methodology to try and help demigods feel more comfortable with their disabilities and they aren't literal powers. In fact, especially given Frank, there's implication that being adhd/dyslexic isn't a guaranteed demigod trait, which means it's more likely to be normally inherited from their godly parent/divine ancestor as a general trait, not a power, and further supports the whole "ADHD is battle strategy" thing being non-literal. It also implies the entire greco-roman pantheon in their universe is canonically adhd/dyslexic - and that actually fits very well with the themes of the first series. The entire central conflict of the first series fits perfectly as an allegory about neurodiverse/disabled children and their relationships with their undiagnosed neurodiverse/disabled parents and trying to find solutions together with their shared disability/disabilities that the kid inherited instead of becoming distant from each other (and this makes claiming equivalent to getting a diagnosis which is a fascinating allegory! not to mention the symbolism of demigods inheriting legacies and legends and powers from their parents and everything that comes with that being equivalent to inheriting traits, neurodiversity, and disabilities from your parents).

anyways neurodiversity and disability and the contexts in which the series utilizes representation of those experiences particularly during the 2000s symbolically within the narrative is incredibly important to the first series and the understanding of what themes it means to represent. also if i see one more "the romans have dyscalculia instead of dyslexia" post in 2023 i'm gonna walk into the ocean.

#pjo #riordanverse #percy jackson #analysis #meta #adhd #dyslexia #also this symbolism recontextualizes the relationship between demigods and their godly parents so much #particularly Percy and Poseidon and the whole ''I'm sorry you were born thing'' like DAMN that's an ENTIRE DIFFERENT IMPLICATION #honestly in general the first series' meta analogy of being a demigod as symbolism for being neurodiverse/disabled ROCKS SO HARD #that's SO COOL and im SO SAD NOBODY EVER TALKS ABOUT IT #i could write a whole essay on that alone like COME ON GUYS #can we PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE THIS I WANNA TALK ABOUT THE COOL DISABILITY METAPHORS.... #anyways i didnt proofread this cause. re: dyslexia so if it doesnt make sense dont worry about it #i can try to explain further in supplementary posts if people so wish

[brookheimer]

not sure why people don't seem to understand that shiv being the victim of misogyny and vitriol from all the men in her life can and does coexist with the fact that she is not a feminist liberal hero fighting to save democracy. why is it that we never afford her any nuance? she's either the only good person on the show and deserves to kill every man in a ten foot radius (twitter) or a uniquely evil cruel sociopath with no heart fueled entirely by spite (reddit). is it not just so much more interesting for her to be a fascism aiding and abetting character like the rest of them who also views herself as more progressive in spite of everything else about her and who undergoes horrific treatment at the hands of the men around her yet has no interest in undoing the system that allows them to do so, only in ruling it herself? shiv is not any better than the others nor is she any worse than them. there's no Evil Olympics here guys, nor should there be. snook said it herself in the after credits sequence -- shiv was just lucky that her interests aligned with her sympathies. who knows what she would've done had mencken been her best personal option? yes she cares infinitely more about politics than roman, yes she is still very much interested in maintaining the capitalist, fascist structure and even strengthening it, so long as it ends with her on top (which either way would be a win for liberal causes bc Woman). fascism isn't one-size-fits-all. it's not just mencken and trump. it's also mattson. it's also logan. it's also roman and shiv and kendall. that's... kind of one of the main points of succession? but even so, that does not negate the fact that as a woman it is so hard to watch some of the scenes with her and tom/roman/kendall -- of course that misogyny will resonate with female viewers, as it should!!! but that resonance needs to coexist with a deeper understanding of her character -- if you want to root for a bad bitch fighting against misogyny go watch, i don't know, captain marvel or whatever. what makes shiv interesting is that she's so so so much more than that -- she is the product, victim, and perpetrator of misogyny and fascism, two concepts so heavily intertwined they're virtually inextricable from each other. tl;dr it's one thing to be like my god someone give shiv a gun and it's another entirely to say, entirely seriously, that shiv is the Good Liberal Feminist One and the rest are all evil. like i absolutely adore shiv but i would honest to god find her so fucking boring if she were actually the person these tweets make her out to be i'm sorry

#me: shiv isn't evil! \ everyone: oh so she's the only good one? #me: shiv isn't good! \ everyone: oh so she's the only evil one? #NUANCE GUYS. IT EXISTS. #honestly i just don't get it. how are you all not just like bored by the versions of these characters you've created #all this being said. every man that called shiv hysterical tonight should be shot and killed. #<3 #succession #succession spoilers #casey shut the fuck up about shiv roy #shiv roy #long post #100 #500 #1000 #dude if i thought this would get notes i would’ve proofread it first. LMAO #like this is literally a word vomit ramble that i didn’t even read before posting . embarrassing 4 me #this time on posts i didn’t expect to get notes

[updownlately]

say my name (and everything just stops)

| alessia russo x reader

~~~

“What do you think?”

Doing a little spin, Alessia modelled her dress for you.

Eyes widening at the sight before you, you let your gaze trace over the striker, loving the way the black cloth fit. 

You knew your girlfriend could make anything look gorgeous, but this? This took the win by a landslide- easily being one of your most favourite outfits of hers. 

You were about to tell Alessia as much, mouth opening to speak right as she spoke.

“I bought it because I thought it would look great on your bedroom floor…”

Taking a second to comprehend what Alessia had just said, you blushed at the words. 

Head turning to the side in a vain effort to not get flustered, your tongue pushed into your cheek as an impressed look crossed your face.

You forgot what you were about to say moments earlier, just barely collecting yourself to look back over at Alessia, a small shrug and raised eyebrows your only response.

An amused smile shone on the blonde’s face, the Gunner deciding to tease you a bit more, obsessed with the rosy hue that always coated your cheeks at even the slightest flirtations

“I mean, if you’re having doubts, we can always test it out and see how you like it…”

At this point you didn’t know what to say, too flabbergasted with your girlfriend’s forwardness.

Biting her own lip to hide a smile, Alessia eyed you carefully, heart melting as your blush reddened, head ducking, eyes downcast as you dug your toe into the floor.

Deciding to take it a step further, she stepped forward to where you stood, taking your slightly shaky hands in her own, placing them on her shoulders as hers promptly went to your waist. 

If your brain had been glitching before, it was definitely short-circuiting now. 

Mouth opening and closing a few times, you willed words to come out but there was nothing but pure silence, silent pining and anticipation thrumming in your veins. 

It was at your fourth impression of a fish out of water that Alessia decided to put you out of your misery- or into more misery if you were asked.

Whispering your name into the space between you, the footballer tugged you closer to her, closing the gap between your bodies. 

All you could feel now was Alessia. Her hair slightly tickling your ear. Her strawberry perfume overwhelming you in the best way possible. Her slight exhales against your own. All you knew was Alessia, Alessia, Alessia- the rest of the world fading away in that moment.  

Only a fraction of a hair of space between you both, your bodies pressed together in the dim room, you could feel your heartbeat start to race even faster.

“Less…” Your exhale was quiet, only heard because the blonde was as near as she was.

You got a hum in response, the girl in question only bringing your faces closer. 

“Did you know I absolutely love the way my name falls from your lips? I can even think of a few circumstances where I’d absolutely die for it…preferably when a bed’s involved…”

By now your brain was mush- complete and utter mush.

Closing your eyes, you willed yourself to keep it together, nervous for where this could go. 

Swallowing hard, you let your forehead fall against the hers. 

“God…”

“Not my name but I guess I don’t mind being called that for a night…”

You let out a quiet huff, mind frenzied in the most pleasant way. 

“Please…” You couldn’t help the plea that fell from your lips, your body completely surrendering without even so much as thinking of anything past this point.

“Please what?”

Taking a deep breath in, you considered backing out now, stepping away, pretending none of this happened, saving your dignity before you nearly started begging.

Your decision, however, was made for you, the grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly- the gentle pressure heady. 

“Please just kiss me…” Your lips were nearly brushing hers as you spoke.

“Yeah? Or what?”

You groaned in response, before not able to handle the flirting and now the teasing.

“Lessi…please…”

You were at the point beyond recovery, too far gone in the intoxicating presence of Alessia around you, the feel of her, her touch, her closeness, to care now.

You tried again…the first ask futile.

“Alessia…”

“Or what?”

You could feel the smile on your blonde’s face, the grin growing with each second.

Mind barely snapping out of it, you managed to form a somewhat coherent sentence, more words than what you had strung out in the past few minutes. 

“Fuck around and find out then…” The teasing threat was clear as your hold on her strengthened. 

“Let’s just fuck around, yeah?”

Feeling the striker close the gap, you let yourself be consumed by the following kiss, being gently pulled towards your shared bed, trusting Alessia as she guided you. 

Glad that your best friend was that and everything more, you followed her blindly, letting the electricity in the room charge you, patience and anticipation of the night to come exciting you. 

Yeah, this was definitely your most favourite dress of hers. 

#bro honestly? i don't know either #a banger of a song though lets be real #not proofread #smn #fluff #with the barest suggestions of smut- this is the closest i'll ever write #too many tags but fuck it #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso community #my writing #blurb

[spiderism]

Miguel’s conducting a census on the spider-verse when he lands himself on 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇-𝟐𝟏𝟑𝟕 – has no prior information since this is his initial visit, but on first glance recognizes that this is Nueva York; that usually means that the local superhero is Miguel O’Hara, or at least another variant of him. Only he finds out that here, it’s actually someone named Web-Shot, a souped-up version of his own late wife.

"Cariño." It was easier to say before – when everything was right, when his entire world hadn't collapsed in on itself. Now, the word feels strange. His brain reacts as if no time's passed at all; it takes effort for his mouth to form around each of the vowels and the consonants, though – like a rusted cog forced into service after being made stiff from years of disuse. 

And while you may walk and talk like her, you’re not. He tells himself not to be fooled by the way your face lights up when you see him, by the way your laughter fills the space between the two of you, and by the way you still tell jokes at his expense. 

But then you take the few steps necessary to close the distance to get to him, wrap your arms around his frame like he’s just come home after a long day of being out. It’s all too familiar – your body folding into his, how well the pieces fit together, the softness that he remembers so well; it’s every single inch of his wife that had been catalogued and filed away in the back of his mind for safekeeping – dust-ridden archives that he’d never thought he’d dig up again. You’re a memory in the flesh. 

“Web-Shot, because—”

“You shoot webs. That’s cute,” he says in a dry tone. 

“Alright, then. Let’s hear yours. You got something better?”

“Spider-man. It’s simple. Clean. Rolls off the tongue.”

“Wow, original. Was ‘Daddy Long Legs’ already taken?”

“Oh, you’ve got jokes. I see your sense of humor is consistent.”

“It’s why you fell for me, isn’t it?”

“Among other things,” he murmurs. “Pain in my ass—”

He asks where your Miguel is, needs to know if the two of you are together, but finds out that he died three months ago – fell from a clocktower during a bad fight he wasn’t supposed to be at, snapped his neck clean in half from the tension when you tried to catch him with your webbing and he ricocheted back up from the concrete like a damn bungee cord. The ring was in his pocket; he was supposed to propose that night before everything went to shit. So your time ended with him fast, early. Before you even really got to start your lives together. 

And this other Miguel, the one who shows up in your universe alive (sure) and well (debatable), gives you some insight to his world. His wife was a romantic – an idealist, a dreamer. He’s always been pragmatic – a man of science, an engineer, doing everything within his realm of possibility to make her visions come true. It’s been a long time since he talked about his history and his family: how he proposed, where they had the wedding, his daughter – the way everything was good and perfect until it wasn’t. 

After spending the night with you on the Empire State Building, he realizes how much you’re like his wife. It hits him hard, brings up too many emotions to the surface that he’d been tamping down all these years.

Nothing about any of this is fair. And it’s sad, heartbreaking. Especially—

“I didn’t get to grow old with you.”

“We could’ve had a lifetime together and it still wouldn’t have been enough. You get that, right?”

You convince him to stay. Try to, at least. He can be your Miguel, and it would all be so easy. He can take his retired wedding ring off the chain around his neck and slip it on where it belongs. 

But it’s not possible. He tells you that much – what can happen, the repercussions that ripple out and affect the multiverse web. Because he’s already attempted that – wouldn’t have given up without trying to get you back.

A part of him wants you to say it one last time. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Instead, he gets:

“Every version of me loves every version of you. And even though I haven’t gotten to see it for myself, I know that there’s no universe where that isn’t true.”

Before he leaves, you ask if he thinks there’s any chance the two of you are allowed to be happy, allowed to live normal lives in all of the places he’s seen. 

He tells you that he has: breakfast on the balcony, slow Sunday mornings, and weekend fútbol tourneys with your daughter. This story ends on a good note, but he doesn’t mention that it only exists inside his head.

#i was a lil too lazy to write the full version #honestly i was too lazy to properly format this and put angst warning so you can yell at me if you want #no i did not proofread #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o hara x reader

[throneofsapphics]

haunt me like the wind that blows (part 3)

Feysand x f!Reader

(part one) (part two)

Summary: it wasn’t really a nightmare, it felt more like a gift. Even with the pain, her subconscious was the only place she could taste freedom.

Warnings: dark feysand, toxic relationships, dubcon, kidnapping, nightmares, non-consensual bondage, references to suicide attempt, a bit of smut, gaslighting probably, minors dni!

Word Count: ~2.7k

A/N: this is going to be the last part! please mind the warnings

Seconds after she breached the wards of Velaris, a familiar hand clenched around her wrist - tight enough pain lanced through her hand, and she wondered if he’d break her wrist. 

“Feyre said you could be trusted,” he purred, “but I knew better.” 

The wind, the beautiful and cruel wind whipped around her face, the ends of her hair rising. She could taste it - the freedom on the horizon. Then - gone. She was alone. She stumbled back, eyes wide as she glanced around her. Had she imagined it? Bruises circled her wrist and it still ached as she clutched it to her chest. 

“No, that was real.” Rhys crooned. 

“Leave me-” 

“Alone, yes I know.” His voice took on a cruel tone. “Let’s see if you survive the night, monsters worse than me are out there.” 

Gods. Gods. She was so screwed. She wouldn’t put it past him to unleash something. Something to haunt her, to scare her into coming back. “Anything is better than with you.” Y/n taunted, unable to control herself. A snarl echoed through her mind, but she took off into the night. Maybe this was just a game, but she’d be a fool not to take the chance. But where to go? She didn’t doubt that word spread of her in Vallahan, of the rogue mate to the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. 

Branches whipped against her arms and legs, small cuts scraping against her but she didn’t care. All pain was drowned out as she sprinted, as fast and far as she could. Temporary freedom was better than nothing. She would take anything she could get at this point.

“You really think you’ll manage without us, don’t you?” Feyre’s voice echoed in her mind - and she didn’t know if it was real or not. Reality seemed to warp around her - the trees shifting in unnatural rhythms, the ground shifting underneath her - rolling like waves of the sea as she struggled to balance. Any trees she tried to grip for balance shifted out of her way. Y/n fell down a hill, tumbling and barely covering her head as she fell -

“Y/n,” a voice shouted, overtaking everything else. Hands braced her shoulders, shaking her awake. This voice was real. She knew that. “Wake up love.” She groaned, rolling away and tugged at her wrists. Chains - still sleeping with the chains on. Her eyes blinked open, spotting Feyre leaning over her, Rhys’s hand stroking down her arm. 

“You had a nightmare,” she brushed her finger over her hand. Y/n glanced down at her bare arms - no cuts or scrapes, no evidence of her wilderness ‘adventure.’ Did they plant this one inside of her, to give her some kind of sick hope? Neither of them replied, or gave any indication they were listening to her thoughts and she let out a slow breath. 

“I wouldn’t have them if you took these off,” she mumbled. At least they’d lined the interior with something soft, after Feyre protested about the bruises on her wrists.  

Her eyes glazed over, and y/n knew she was speaking to Rhys. Feyre had always been a bit … softer, maybe she would argue on her behalf. A few minutes passed as she chewed on her bottom lip. Rhys let out an exasperated sigh behind her, but the chains unlocked and she forced herself not to yelp out of excitement. 

“On a trial.” Rhys warned, flipping her around to face him. His eyes had darkened, a clear warning that if she tried anything, worse consequences would face her. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes.” She spoke softly. Maybe it made her weak, but sleeping in those damned chains had worn her down and she would have begged on her knees to be free of them. Captive. She thought she was trapped before, but it was nothing compared to this. Eyes she couldn’t see followed her everywhere, and anytime she spotted something remotely sharp - it disappeared. If she ate with a butter knife, Rhys or Feyre watched her the entire time. Even the cups and glasses had been charmed not to break. 

A clash clattered across the floor as tea spilt on the kitchen tiles. Rhys winnowed into the room within seconds. His eyes shifted between the cup on the floor, and her face. 

“I dropped it, I promise.” She nearly wailed at the dark look on his face. She felt him rifling through her mind, and gave a nod after deciding she was being truthful. A snap of his fingers cleaned the liquid up, the mug disappearing. 

“You need to be careful my love,” he said in a soft voice, gathering her in his arms. “We don’t want you getting hurt.” Or hurting yourself, went unsaid. He made her sit, brewing her another cup and almost made her feel loved. It was all a game, everything was a game to earn her trust and wear her back down. At least she told herself that. 

The memory faded, and she hadn’t realized she was facing Feyre again, her back pressed firmly against Rhys’s chest, his hands wrapped around her waist as Feyre rubbed out her wrists. Like she would every morning. Always checking to see if she could feel everything, if anything was injured - like it wasn’t them inflicting any injuries. 

“Aren’t you going to thank us?” the High Lady teased her. 

“Thank you.” She said quickly, not wanting to risk anything. 

“Such good manners when you get what you want.” Rhys’s sleepy voice came from behind her. She loved that voice, when he was soft and gentle - first thing in the morning or in the middle of the night. Loved. Y/n threw that word out of her mind. No love for them, nothing redeemable about them. 

“Sleep.” Feyre ordered both of them, “I’ll take the nightmares away,” her hand kissed the inside of her wrist. But - it wasn’t really a nightmare, it felt more like a gift. Even with the pain, her subconscious was the only place she could taste freedom. How sad everything had become, how painful of a trap she fell in. She thought of everything she lost, of everything gone to her. Gone with the wind, swept away at every moment. 

-

When she woke, alone, the sun was already shining, and she rose, a genuine smile on her face for the first time in months - but something pulled at her. Chains. Gods was that a dream too? But, they were longer this time, long enough she could reach the side table. A note placed on it. 

We had to leave early, we’ll come back as soon as we can. 

Tears spilled, dripping down on the paper and smudging the ink. The best dream she’d had in months, and it was soured. But, her favorite book and a still-warm mug of tea sat on the side table, within reach. She could indulge in this small kindness, just this once. 

They returned at the same time, looking pleased to see the book propped on her knees, one hand holding her page open as the other held her mug. 

“I told you she’d be happy.” Feyre elbowed Rhys. Maybe happy was an overstatement. The male rolled his eyes. 

“I still like her in chains.” Feyre hummed an agreement. Speaking of her like an object. That’s all she was to them. 

“You’re our mate.” Feyre frowned at her. “If you’re not going to be grateful …” 

A few minutes later, she was spitting out apologies and thank you’s as Feyre’s hand landed on her ass, her body draped over her knees. She would pause, letting Rhys run his hands over her already bruised ass. His hand slipped between her legs, and she fought back tears of embarrassment as he felt how wet she was. 

How sick was she that this turned her on? At being punished for her thoughts. 

“How else would we correct them?” Rhys’s voice entered her mind. “It’s alright to feel this way,” he spread her arousal over the small abrasions on her ass, and she winced as it stung. “The bruises will remind you.” 

The chains unlocked, but the freedom was temporary as her hips were dragged back, and she was shoved to her knees in front of Feyre, her legs spreading, dress hiked up around her hips with nothing underneath. “Take your reward now.” She cooed, one hand on the back of her hair, guiding her towards her core. She wanted to fight and protest, but the temptation and taste of her was too much. The desire to please her mate was so ingrained in her that sometimes she couldn’t resist it, and this was a way to alleviate it - a less harmful way, she justified to herself. 

-

Three months passed before she could wake alone and unchained. A treasure, and she prized herself on earning back that trust. But, she shoved that thought deep down - in a place nobody could reach. The thought was filled with a sense of vindication, and the last thing she needed was them catching wind of that feeling.

She moved silently, sneaking through the halls how she’d learned, and heard voices coming from one of the small dining rooms. 

“That could work.” Feyre said. “It would keep her here.” 

Keep her? How? Hadn’t they already done everything to keep her? 

“I have to go,” Rhys said and a chair shoved back she quickly took a few quiet strides back, before reapproaching with louder footsteps - the ones they’d become accustomed to hearing. 

Rhys exited just as she approached, a smile curving on his face as he spotted her and wrapped one arm around her waist, tugging her into his chest. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, “Good morning.” 

“Good morning.” She repeated, forcing some inflection into her voice. Not overly so, but enough for it to come off as natural. 

“You enjoyed your gift?” 

“Thank you.” The smile actually did reach her eyes. 

“You’ve been so good.” He ran a thumb over her cheek, brushing across her lips. 

“You’re going to be late. Rhys.” Feyre said from the doorway, shooting her a smile. “Want to go to the markets today?” 

She nodded eagerly, picking up any crumbs they would string out for her, and tried not to despise herself for it. Feyre had a pleased expression on her face at her excitement, and Rhys reluctantly released her. 

“I’m the High Lord. I’m never late.” He muttered, but winked at her as he winnowed away. 

Feyre’s grip on her was tight as they walked through the city streets, arm in arm. Not giving her an inch unless she allowed it, but she would take it. No familiar faces, either. Some she recognized as old neighbors, ones who used to work with her in town, but their eyes glazed right over her as if she didn’t exist.

Her mouth opened once, as if to try and call out to them, but she couldn’t find her voice. As she met Feyre’s eyes, there was a warning glare there. Don’t talk to anyone. Feyre didn’t have to speak the words for her to understand the message. She swallowed and gave her a nod. Immediately, her expression lightened and she reached over to squeeze her arm, stopping for the next person to greet her. 

Popular, Feyre was incredibly popular with her people, they loved her. If only they could see how she is behind closed doors, the wicked cruelness and quickly shifting moods. What her love really looks like. 

“And who is this?” An older female smiled, her face lined with wrinkles - hair just starting to silver. As soon as she’d acknowledged her, the woman’s eyes changed as if she didn’t register her at all. Feyre was making sure nobody recognized her - that she was forgotten. 

No talk of “who was that on the High Lady’s arm?” or “Did you see y/n, she’s been gone so long!” would go around Velaris that night. Nobody would remember her. Nobody except who Rhys and Feyre allowed. 

- Two years and three days to the date after she was first returned, y/n got another chance. Gods did she take it. She ran and ran and ran. Breaching the words of Velaris, just as a hand clamped around her wrist - bruisingly tight as it ached. 

“Feyre said you could be trusted,” he purred, “but I knew better.” The same words from that nightmare, but this time he didn’t let go. Fear might have rung from every sense of her being, but she brought up as much determination as she could as she turned to face him and took a step closer. His brow furrowed in confusion, but she spat. The drops glistened on his cheek, surprise evident in his eyes. A satisfied smile crossed her features, but his gaze turned feral quickly and it was gone as soon as it came. 

He leaned towards her, his breath grazing her ear. “Run.” He dropped her wrist, and she did. 

Wind whipped her cheeks, branches scraped at her skin, but the floor and trees didn’t move this time. Of course, it was useless and futile, of course it would end as quickly as it began - but she’d take the chance to feel the wind against her hair, to feel the strain of her legs as she got a mockery of freedom. 

Rhys let her run, maybe gave her a ten minute head start before she began to feel his presence nearby. She would catch a glimpse of him, and cut a sharp angle to another direction, weaving in and out of trees to try and lose him. She didn’t know how long it lasted - but her lungs burned and legs threatened to give out under her. Keep going, keep going, she chanted to herself, wanting to draw this out as long as possible. 

She screamed as a weight slammed behind her, shoving her down to the forest ground. Her face pressed into the dirt and a hand yanked the back of her hair - arching her neck as his other hand circled her throat. 

“You believed it, didn’t you?” He murmured. “That I would be that stupid to give you that chance.” His hand tightened around her neck. “I don’t make the same mistakes twice.” 

A whimper left her throat. “Fuck you.” She said weakly, and her cut some of her air off, keeping any words from coming out of her mouth. 

“You’re already in trouble. Don’t make it worse.” If she’s already in trouble - she threw an arm back, a weak punch landing against his shoulder. He laughed at her, finally releasing his grip on her hair and neck as she flopped back into the ground, and scrambled to turn, backing on her knees as the rough bramble scraped the bottom of her thighs. 

He shook his head, looking at her almost fondly. A shield quickly deflected the rocks and sticks she tried to throw. But, she couldn’t stand - her legs fell out under her as she tried, already worn out from all of the running. He must’ve entertained her for at least an hour or two. 

“Three.” He corrected. “I was impressed with you.” A game, this was all a gods-damned game to him. The curve of his lips told her she was right. “A game for me,” he taunted, “but it’s so sweet when you think it’s real.” 

She threw out a string of creative curses at him, but he rolled his eyes and she watched his patience slowly wane. Still, she kept cursing as he heaved her to stand, keeping a firm grip on her as he winnowed back to the river house. 

He let her go and she fell onto the tile, wincing as her knee hit the ground. Feyre stood with her arms crossed. “You let her hurt herself.” She frowned at Rhys. 

“I let her have some fun.” Rhys hedged, but even he wilted slightly under Feyre’s disappointed stare. At least she wasn’t alone in that. In everything else, she’d be alone. For the rest of eternity. 

“Don’t be so sour,” Feyre tutted, reaching out a hand for her. “You have us, that’s all you need.”

#acotar fic #feysand x y/n #feysand x reader #poly!feysand x y/n #poly!feysand x reader #poly!feysand #this whole series doesn't really have a plot honestly #feyre archeron x y/n #feyre archeron x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #I did not proofread this #the warnings list is sending me to hell but please read them

[pollenallergie]

Best friend!Eddie Headcanon(s) ft. Reefer Rick

aka Eddisms: The Reefmix

Reefer Rick doesn’t just supply Eddie with drugs to deal, he also offers Eddie his illegal bootleg copies of movies that are only out in theaters to Eddie for a discounted price.

Rick calls it the “employee discount,” but, considering Eddie is his only dealer at the moment, it might as well just be the “Eddie discount.”

You and Eddie have weekly movie nights. Typically, you rent movies from Family Video for these movie nights like good, morally upstanding citizens. However, once a month, you two indulge in the contraband and have a bootleg movie night wherein you watch whatever new, pirated flicks Rick has to offer.

On these nights, you forgo your weekly trip to family video but still head to the closest convenience store to get snacks because junk food is a necessity for movie nights.

Then, Eddie heads to Reefer Rick’s place to “rent” the flicks from him, leaving you back at the trailer to get everything set up for your movie night, much to your chagrin. You kinda hate that Eddie never brings you along with him to run his “errands,” mostly because you hate being left out. It’s not like you actually want to be involved in his illicit activities, but it still sucks to be excluded. Nevertheless, you prepare the spread of junk food, order the pizza, and transform the Munsons’ living room into the ultimate, cozy movie night cove.

Meanwhile, Eddie’s at Rick’s, buying the films and some weed for personal consumption, a movie night must-have. Unfortunately, such an exchange also involves shooting the shit with Rick for about an hour because he’s the only man who can out-chatterbox Eddie. These conversations usually involve Rick, who thinks of himself as Eddie’s mentor, giving the youngest Munson life advice that he definitely didn’t ask for and ranting about whatever sociopolitical issues he’s been hyper-focusing on lately, such as the military-industrial complex, the bullshit War on Drugs, really, any mostly-valid-yet-still-a-bit crackpot anti-establishment rhetoric you can think of, Ricks probably spewing it at Eddie. Honestly, these conversations are more like scatterbrained lectures; the kind filled with lots of ‘um’s and long pauses, the kind where Rick forgets what he’s talking about after a while and jarringly switches topics, starting a new lecture entirely without giving poor Eddie so much as a subtle verbal cue.

After retrieving the films and robotically nodding along to these scatterbrained lectures, Eddie returns to the trailer and is immediately accosted by your incessant complaining about the fact that he never lets you go with him to pick up stuff from Rick’s. At this point, your grumbling is part of the routine.

Of course, Eddie’s always quick to remind you that it’s not about wanting you to “sit at home and play housewife” for him (your go-to accusation, you little feminist you), but that he simply doesn’t trust Rick around you because, in Eddie’s words, Rick’s “sketchy” and “a total perv.”

In all honesty, Rick’s harmless; a drug dealer/supplier who has no qualms with dealing to minors, but otherwise harmless. Rick’s nothing more than a stoner punk with access to semi-decent weed that is somehow both a genius and a being that completely lacks common sense, hence why Eddie’s unofficial PoliSci professor has been caught by Hawkin’s PD a few times.

The real reason Eddie doesn’t want you around Rick is that he’s intimidated by him. More specifically, Rick is a fucking hot, with his various tattoos and anti-establishment ideals. He’s about ten years your senior, though the way he somehow balances tranquil maturity with enough oddball immaturity makes him seem five or six years younger than he actually is. Not to mention, he’s just educated enough to have some semi-intellectual conversations (Rick went to college at Purdue and flunked out during his junior year because he spent too much time partying and doing drugs), but he’s also somehow dumb enough for it to be sort of endearing, likely as a result of all the hard drugs killing his brain cells or whatever. Truthfully, Rick’s oddly charming in ways that Eddie doesn’t think he ever could be (little does Eddie know, he’s his own brand of oddly charming, and his type of charm has already made you fall for him), and, well, that scares the shit out of Eddie because, in his eyes, Rick is exactly the type of guy that could steal you away from him before he ever even gets the chance to tell you, his best friend, how hopelessly in love with you he is. No, no way, not happening. Therefore, Eddie’s decided that you can never ever find out who Reefer Rick actually is and you can certainly never meet him. Eddie can’t prevent the two of you from crossing paths in the grocery store, but he can prevent you two from ever properly meeting and talking to each other.

Anyways… Once Eddie has amply reassured you that you didn’t miss out on anything and that he’s not leaving you behind because you’re not a dude, he pops in one of the flicks, coaxes you onto the couch, and snuggles up with you as the two of you prepare to watch a really shitty quality version of a movie that you two are honestly indifferent to (hence why you two aren’t going to see it in theaters) and that, for some reason, has large, bold, poorly-translated Turkish subtitles on it.

#not proofread #this is honestly inspired by the meme of the bootleg barbie movie with spanish subtitles #also by all the people that suggested that Reefer Rick was like Tim LaFlour from Senseless (1998) #because goddamn Matthew Lillard is so fucking hot in that movie #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #best friend!eddie #best friend!eddie munson #best friend au #best friends au #stranger things 4 #eddie munson thoughts #eddie stranger things #stranger things vol 4 #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson hc #reefer rick #bestfriend!eddie #bestfriend!eddie munson #best friend!eddie munson x reader #bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

[hephaestuscrew]

The role of Pryce and Carter's Deep Space Survival Procedure Protocol Manual in the characterisation, symbolism, and themes of Wolf 359

TL;DR: The DSSPPM is used as a tool to help establish and develop Minkowski and Eiffel as characters: Minkowski as a strict Commander who clings to the certainty provided by a rigid source of authority like the DSSPPM, and Eiffel as the anti-authority slacker who strongly objects to the idea that he ought to read the manual. The way their contrasting attitudes towards the DSSPPM manifest through the show reflect their character development and changing dynamic. The DSSPPM can be directly used against the protagonists by those with power over them, and the reveal of its authorship gives a particularly sinister edge to its regular presence in the show. But it can be also be repurposed and seen through an individual interpersonal lens.

Note: There’s plenty that you could say about the DSSPPM through the lens of what it says about Goddard Futuristics as an organisation, or about Pryce and Cutter as people. Or you could talk about Lambert quoting the DSSPPM an absurd number of times in Change of Mind, and Lovelace’s reactions to this. But in this essay, I’ll be analysing on mentions of the DSSPPM with a focus on Minkowski, Eiffel, and their dynamic.

“One of those mandatory mission training things”: the DSSPPM as a tool to establish characterisation

The first mention of Pryce and Carter's Deep Space Survival Procedure Protocol Manual (the DSSPPM) in Wolf 359 is also the very first interaction we hear Eiffel and Minkowski have. In fact, the first time we hear Minkowski's voice at all is her telling Eiffel off for not having read the manual:

[Ep1 Succulent Rat-Killing Tar] MINKOWSKI Eiffel, did you read your copy of Pryce and Carter?  EIFFEL My copy of what?  MINKOWSKI Pryce and Carter's Deep Space Survival Procedure Protocol Manual.  EIFFEL Was that one of those mandatory mission training things?  MINKOWSKI Yes.  EIFFEL In that case, yes, I definitely did.  MINKOWSKI Did you now? Because I happened to find your copy of the D.S.S.P.P.M. floating in the observation deck.  EIFFEL Oh?  MINKOWSKI Still in its plastic wrapping.

This is an effective way to establish their conflicting personalities right out of the gate. Minkowski's determination to "do things by the book - this book in fact" contrasts clearly with Eiffel's professed ignorance about and clear disregard for "this... Jimmy Carter thing”. Purely through their attitudes to this one book, they slot easily into clear archetypes which inevitably clash. Everything about Eiffel in that opening episode sets him up as a slacker who doesn't care about authority, but the image of his mandatory mission training manual floating in the observation deck "still in its plastic wrapping" provides a particularly striking illustration.

By contrast, we immediately encounter Minkowski as a strict leader who cares deeply about making sure everything is done according to protocol; the intense importance she places on the DSSPPM is one of the very first things we know about her. Her insistence on the importance of the survival manual might seem somewhat understandable at first, if perhaps unhelpfully aggressive, but it starts to feel less sensible as soon as we start to hear some of the tips from this manual:

Deep Space Survival Tip Number Five: Remain positive at all times. Maintain a cheerful attitude even in the face of adversity. Remember: when you are smiling the whole world smiles with you, but when you're crying you're in violation of fleet-wide morale codes and should report to your superior officer for disciplinary action.

The strange, controlling, vaguely sinister tone of some of the tips we hear in the first episode is largely played for laughs, emphasised by the exaggeratedly upbeat manner in which Hera reads them. But even these first few tips give us some initial suggestions that the powers behind this mission might not care all that much about the wellbeing of their crew members.

It says something about Minkowski that she places such faith and importance in a book which says things like "Failing to remain calm, could result in your grisly, gruesome death" and "when you're crying you're in violation of fleet-wide morale codes and should report to your superior officer for disciplinary action." (Foreshadowing the Hephaestus Station as the home of immense emotional repression and compartmentalising...) Having those kind of pressures and demands placed on her (and those around her) by people above her in the military hierarchy doesn’t unsettle Minkowski.

Eiffel groans and sighs as he listens to the tips, but Minkowski seems to see this manual as an essential source of wisdom. The main role the manual plays in this episode is to establish Minkowski and Eiffel as contrasting characters with very different approaches to authority and therefore a potential to clash.

When Minkowski demands that Eiffel reads the DSSPPM, he decides to get Hera to read it to him, asking her to keep this as “a 'just the two of us, totally secret, never tell Commander Minkowski' thing”. Eiffel seems convinced that Minkowski won't be happy with him listening to Hera read the DSSPPM rather than reading it himself. This suggests that (at least in Eiffel's interpretation) Minkowski’s orders are not just about her wanting him to know the contents of the manual, since this could theoretically be accomplished just as well by him listening to it. But she wants him to do things in what she’s deemed to be the correct way, to put in the right amount of effort, and not to take what she might see as a shortcut. It’s not just about the contents of the manual; it’s about the commitment to protocol that reading it represents.

“When in doubt: whip it out”: Hilbert’s use of the DSSPPM

In Season 1, the DSSPPM isn't purely associated with Minkowski. Hilbert actually quotes it more than she does in the first few episodes. In Ep2 Little Revolución, Hilbert's response to Eiffel's toothpaste protest is inspired by "Pryce and Carter six fourteen: “When in doubt, whip it out - ‘it’ being hydrochloric acid.”" This tip is absurd in a more direct obvious way than those we heard in Ep1. While this absurdity is partly for humour, it also casts further doubt on the usefulness of this supposedly authoritative survival manual, and therefore on the wisdom of trusting Command.

In Ep4 Cataracts and Hurricanoes, Hilbert starts to quote Tip #4 at Eiffel, who protests "I'm not gonna have one of the last things I hear be some crap from the survival manual". These moments again place Eiffel in clear opposition to the DSSPPM, but also suggest that Hilbert's attitude towards the DSSPPM - and therefore towards Command - is closer to Minkowski's than to Eiffel's.

When Hilbert turns on the Hephaestus crew in his Christmas mutiny, his allegiance to Command is revealed as dangerous. And here the DSSPPM comes up again. As Minkowski dissolves the door between her and Hilbert, she triumphantly echoes his own words back to him: "Pryce and Carter six fourteen: “When in doubt, whip it out - ‘it’ being hydrochloric acid.” Never. Fails." This provides a callback to a previous, more comedic conflict on the Hephaestus, and reminds the listener of a time when Minkowski and Hilbert were working together against Eiffel, in contrast to the current situation of Minkowski and Eiffel versus Hilbert. But it also shows that Minkowski, like Hilbert, is capable of using some of the more absurd DSSPPM tips to defeat an adversary. And it shows Minkowski leaning on those tips in a real moment of crisis.

Once Hilbert has betrayed the crew in order to follow orders from Command, we might look back on his quoting of the DSSPPM as casting the manual in a more sinister light, and again calling into question the wisdom of Minkowski placing such trust in it.

“It's not that I don't believe it, I'm just disgusted by it”: the DSSPPM as an indicator of a changing dynamic

The next mention of the DSSPPM is in Ep17 Bach to the Future:

MINKOWSKI Eiffel's been spot-testing me, Hera. He doesn't believe that I've memorized all of the survival tips in Pryce and Carter. EIFFEL It's not that I don't believe it, I'm just disgusted by it. I keep hoping to discover it's not true. MINKOWSKI Well, believe as little as you want, doesn't change the fact that I do know them. And so should you!

I think this provides an interesting illustration of the way in which Minkowski and Eiffel’s dynamic has developed since Ep1. They still have deeply contrasting attitudes to the DSSPPM, but this contrast is now a source of entertainment between them, rather than merely of conflict.

Given that Hera wasn’t aware of Eiffel testing Minkowski on the tips, we can guess that it’s a game they came up with while Hera was offline. In the midst of all the exhaustion and uncertainty and fear they were dealing with after Hilbert’s mutiny, this was a way they found to pass the time. It must have been Eiffel who suggested it; Minkowski cites his disbelief as the reason for the spot-testing. And yet she plays along, responding each time, even though this activity has no real productive value.

Minkowski is keen to demonstrate that she does know the tips and she emphasises that Eiffel ought to know them too, but their interactions about the DSSPPM in this episode have none of the genuine irritation and frustration that they displayed in Ep1. It feels almost playful and teasing. Eiffel still thinks Minkowski is "completely insane" for learning all the tips and is "disgusted" by her commitment to memorising them, but these comments feel much closer to joking about a friend's weird traits than to insulting a hated coworker's personality. It feels like something has shifted since Eiffel responded to Minkowski’s passion for the DSSPPM by saying “I'm so glad that your shrivelled husk of a dictator's heart is as warm as a decompression chamber”.

Another thing to note here is that Minkowski's respect for the DSSPPM has clearly survived Hilbert's Christmas mutiny and Minkowski's resulting distrust of Command. From Hilbert's behaviour at Christmas, it's clear that the crew's survival is not at the top of Command's priority list. But Minkowski still trusts the book that Command told her to read. She still thinks Eiffel should read it too. The main figures of authority above her are dangerous and untrustworthy, but she still clings to the source of guidance they provided her with.

It's also worth noting that Minkowski has not just learnt the advice in each of the 1001 tips, but she has memorised (nearly) all of them by number. If it was just about the information that the manual provides to inform responses to potentially life-or-death situations, then knowing the numbers wouldn't be necessary. Nor would it be particularly useful to know them all exactly word-for-word. Minkowski's reliance on the DSSPPM is again suggested to be about more than the potential practical use of its content. It's about showing that she is committed and disciplined and up to the task of leading. She does have some awareness of the strangeness of many of the tips, but this doesn't diminish the value of her adherence to the manual for her:

EIFFEL You're insane.  MINKOWSKI I'm disciplined. Although I will admit they do get more... esoteric as you go higher up the list.

There's only one tip Minkowski doesn't seem to remember, and that's revealing too:

EIFFEL 555? Minkowski DRAWS BREATH - and STOPS SHORT. [...] MINKOWSKI Hold on a second, I know this. (beat) Dammit. EIFFEL Hey, look at that! Looks like there may be hope for you yet. MINKOWSKI Quiet, Eiffel. Hera, what's D.S.S.P.P.M. 555? HERA "Good communication habits are key to continued subsistence. Be in touch with other crew members about shipboard activities. Interfacing about possible problems or dangers is the best way to anticipate and prevent them." This hangs in the air for a second. Then – EIFFEL So you forget the one tip in the entire manual that's actually helpful? MINKOWSKI Shut up.

Communication is a key theme of this show, so it’s interesting that this is the one tip Minkowski can’t remember, perhaps indicating an aspect of leadership and teamwork that she doesn’t always prioritise or find easy.

Eiffel saying “Looks like there may be hope for you yet” seems like just a throwaway teasing line, but it’s got a profound edge to it. A lot of Minkowski’s arc is about learning how to provide her own direction and support her crew outside of the systems of authority and hierarchy that she’s grown so attached to. So perhaps Eiffel is right to see a kind of hope in her failure to remember every single DSSPPM tip – she has the potential to break free of her reliance on external authority.

“Which one was 897, what was the exact phrasing of that Deep Space Survival Tip?”: the DSSPPM in interactions with Cutter

The Wolf 359 liveshow, Deep Space Survival Procedure and Protocol, is literally named after the manual. This suggests, before we’ve even heard/watched the episode, that the DSSPPM will be a key symbol here. Which is interesting because I'd say the liveshow has two main plot points: (a) Eiffel's failure to read the DSSPPM or follow orders in general, the resulting disruption to the mission, and his crewmates' frustration with this; and (b) the looming threat of Cutter, the necessity of keeping information from Command, and the risk of fatal mission termination.

Even without the knowledge that Cutter is one of the co-authors of the DSSPPM (which neither the Hephaestus crew nor a first-time listener knows at this point), there's a kind of irony in the contrast between these two plotlines. On the one hand, Minkowski repeatedly berates Eiffel for not having read Pryce and Carter's Deep Space Survival Procedure and Protocol Manual, which was made mandatory by Command. On the other hand, she is aware that Command in general - and Cutter specifically - represents the biggest threat to the safety and survival of her crew.

Cutter uses the DSSPPM against each of the Hephaestus crew in their one-on-one conversations with him. For Minkowski, he uses it as a way of emphasising the expectations and responsibility placed on her:

MINKOWSKI There are always gaps between expectation and reality, but-- CUTTER But it's our job as leaders to close that gap, isn't it? Pryce and Carter...? MINKOWSKI 414, yes. Yes, sir, I know.

Cutter knows that Minkowski will know those tips and he knows abiding by them is important to her. She's quick to demonstrate her knowledge of the DSSPPM and agree with the tip. There's something deeply sinister to me about Cutter's use of the word 'our' here. His phrasing includes them both as leaders who should be ensuring that things are exactly as expected. It’s almost a kind of flattery at her authority, but it comes with impossibly high expectations. This way of emphasising the importance and responsibilities of her role as Commander is a targeted strategy by Cutter at manipulating Minkowski, designed to appeal to her values.

In Hera's one-on-one, Cutter uses a DSSPPM tip to interpret her behaviour and claim that he can read her motives:

CUTTER This thing you're doing. Asking questions while you get your bearings. HERA Sir, I'm just curious about-- CUTTER Pryce and Carter 588: Shows of courtesy and polite queries are an efficient way to gain time necessary to strategize.

Unlike with Minkowski (or Eiffel), Cutter doesn't prompt Hera to demonstrate her knowledge of the manual. That wouldn't work as a power play against Hera, who would be able to recall the manual (or, rather, retrieve the file, however that distinction works within her memory) but who doesn't care about the DSSPPM like Minkowski does. Instead, Cutter implies that Hera’s behaviour can be predicted - or at the very least seen through - by the DSSPPM, which seems like a cruel attempt by Cutter at belittling her.

For Eiffel, Cutter uses the manual as a weapon in a different way again. He asks Eiffel, "which one was 897, what was the exact phrasing of that Deep Space Survival Tip?", something which Eiffel clearly doesn't know, but Cutter of course does. This puts Eiffel on the back foot, trying to defend and justify himself, allowing Cutter to emphasise his position of power yet again.

The DSSPPM plays a double role in the liveshow. On the one hand, as Minkowski reminds Eiffel, proper knowledge of the manual "would've saved [the crew] from these problems with the nav computer" – some of the tips can potentially save the crew a great deal of hassle, stress, and risk. On the other hand, the same manual is used by Cutter to manipulate, unsettle, and intimidate the crew. There are these two sides to the information given to the crew by Command - two sides to the manual which Minkowski still values.

In another duality for the DSSPM, the manual is sometimes used as a symbol of the relationship between the crew members and Command, and sometimes used to indicate the dynamics between the individual crew members, usually Minkowski and Eiffel. Before Cutter’s appearance in the liveshow, Minkowski and Eiffel’s discussions of the DSSPPM reflect interpersonal disagreements between two people with fundamentally different attitudes:

MINKOWSKI Oh come on, why do you think I keep trying to get you to go over these things? Do you think I enjoy going through them? EIFFEL Yes. MINKOWSKI Well, alright, I do. But this knowledge could save your life.

Minkowski enjoys rules, regulations, and certainty, for their own sake as much as for any practical usefulness. Eiffel very much does not. This is a simple clash of individuals, in which the link between the DSSPPM and Command is implicit. Minkowski doesn't seem to question the idea that the information in the DSSPPM is potentially life-saving, even though she knows Command don't care about their lives. But Cutter’s repeated references to the DSSPPM remind us who made that book a mandatory part of mission training – it certainly wasn’t Minkowski, even if she’s often the one attempting to enforce this rule.

At the end of the liveshow, in a desperate attempt to prevent mission termination, Eiffel promises Cutter that he will read the DSSPPM (the liveshow transcript notes that him saying this is "like pulling teeth"), an instance of the manual being used in negotiations between the Hephaestus crew and Command. All Minkowski’s orders weren’t enough to get Eiffel to read that book, but a genuine life-or-death threat might just about be enough. Perhaps it's ironic that Eiffel reads the survival manual out of a desire for survival, not because he thinks the contents of the book will help him survive, but because he’s grasping anything he can offer to buy the crew’s survival from those who created that same book.

In the final scene of the liveshow, Minkowski catches Eiffel reading the DSSPPM, and he fumbles to hide that he's been reading it, a humorous reversal of all the times that he's lied to her that he has read it. Perhaps admitting that he's reading it would be like letting Minkowski win. Minkowski seems to find both surprise and amusement in seeing Eiffel finally reading the manual, but she doesn't push him to admit it. There's some slightly smug but still friendly teasing in the way Minkowski says "were you now?" when Eiffel says that he was just reading something useful. In that final scene, the manual is viewed again through the lens of Minkowski and Eiffel’s dynamic – Command’s relation to the DSSPPM becomes secondary.

“The first thing I'd make damn sure was hard wired into anything that might end up in a situation like this one”: the DSSPPM as a tool of survival

In Ep30 Mayday, when Eiffel is stranded alone on Lovelace’s shuttle, he hallucinates Minkowski to bring him out of his helpless panic and force him into action. And this hallucination also brings with it one of Minkowski’s interests:

MINKOWSKI Eiffel... I worked on this shuttle. Reprogramming that console. EIFFEL So? How does that help – MINKOWSKI Think about it. BEAT. And then he gets it. EIFFEL Oh goddammit. MINKOWSKI What's the first thing that I would do when programming a flight computer? The first thing I'd make damn sure was hard wired into anything that might end up in a situation like this one? EIFFEL Pyrce and Carter's Deep Space Survival Procedure and Protocol Manual.

Again, a conversation about the DSSPPM gives us an indication of the development of Minkowski and Eiffel’s relationship. Not only does Eiffel imagine Minkowski as a figure of (fairly aggressive) support when he’s stranded and alone, he thinks about what advice she’d give him and he follows it. Rather than dismissing the manual entirely, he looks for tips that are relevant to his situation. He’s not pleased about his hallucinated-Minkowski trying to get him to read the DSSPPM, but that was what his mind gave him in an almost hopeless situation. Some part of him now empathises with Minkowski’s priorities in a way that he definitely wasn’t doing in Ep1. He thinks that the DSSPPM might be on the shuttle because he knows the manual is important to Minkowski. It’s by imagining Minkowski that he gets himself to read the manual in order to see if it can help him survive – he certainly doesn’t think about what Cutter or anyone else from Command would tell him to do.

In the end, the tips Eiffel picks out aren’t all that helpful or informative: “Confront reality head-on”; “In an emergency, take stock of the tools at your disposal. Then take stock again. Restock. Repurpose. Reuse. Recycle."; and “"In times of trouble, an idle mind is your worst enemy”. But Eiffel does use these tips to structure his initial thinking about how to survive on Lovelace’s shuttle. In an almost entirely hopeless situation, Eiffel finds some value in the DSSPPM. But since the tips he picks out are mostly platitudes, the actual wisdom that allows him to survive all comes from his own mind; the tips, like his hallucinations, are just a tool he uses to externalise his process of figuring out what to do.

“Wasn't there something about this in the survival manual?”: Minkowski potentially moving away from the DSSPPM

Given the significance of the DSSPPM in Season 1 and 2 to Minkowski in particular, it feels notable when the manual isn’t referenced. Unless I've missed something (and please let me know if I have), Minkowski – the real one, not Eiffel’s hallucination - doesn't bring up the manual of her own accord at all in Seasons 3 or 4. This might make us wonder if she’s moved away from her trust in and reliance on that book provided by Command.

Perhaps the arrival of the SI-5, which highlights to Minkowski that the chain of command is not a good indicator of trustworthy authority, was the final straw. Or perhaps the apparent loss of Eiffel - and any subsequent questioning of her leadership approach, or realisations about the valuable perspective Eiffel provided - were what finally broke down her faith in that book.

Alternatively, perhaps Minkowski still trusts the DSSPPM as much as ever, but trying to get Eiffel or any of the other crew members to listen to it is a losing battle that she no longer sees as a priority. Either way, Minkowski’s apparent reluctance to bring up the DSSPPM feels like a shift in her approach. 

The associations between Minkowski and the DSSPPM are still there in Season 3, but they are raised by other characters, not by Minkowski herself. The manual is used to emphasise Eiffel’s difficulties when he’s put in charge of trying to get Maxwell and Hera to fill out a survey in Ep32 Controlled Demolition. Trying to force other people to be productive pushes Eiffel into some very uncharacteristic behaviour:

EIFFEL Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you? It's like you've never even read Pryce and Carter! Tip #490 very clearly states that – He trails off. After a BEAT – HERA Officer Eiffel? MAXWELL You, uh, all right there? EIFFEL (the horror) What have I become? [...] Eiffel, now wrapped up in a blanket, is next to Lovelace. He is still very clearly shaken. EIFFEL ... and... it was like an episode of the Twilight Zone. I was slowly transforming into Commander Minkowski. [...] It was a nightmare! A terrifying, bureaucratic nightmare!

This is a funny role reversal, but it shows us the strength of Eiffel’s association between Minkowski and the DSSPPM, as well his extreme aversion to finding himself in a strict bureaucratic leadership position. It also suggests that becoming extremely frustrated when trying to get other people to do what you want might make anyone resort to relying on an external source of authority, such as the manual. I don’t know whether this experience helps Eiffel empathise with Minkowski, but perhaps it might give us some insight into how her need for authority and control in the leadership role she occupied might have reinforced her deference to the DSSPPM.

In Ep34, we get a suggestion of another character having a strong association between the DSSPPM and Minkowski. After the discovery of Funzo, Hera asks Minkowski what the manual says about it:

HERA Umm... I don't know if this is a good idea. Lieutenant, wasn't there something about this in the survival manual? MINKOWSKI Pryce and Carter 792: Of all the dangers that you will face in the void of space, nothing compares to the existential terror that is Funzo.

It’s interesting to me that Hera asks Minkowski here. We know from Ep1 that “Pryce and Carter's Deep Space Survival Procedure Protocol Manual is among the files [Hera has] access to”. Two possible reasons occur to me for why Hera might ask Minkowski about the DSSPPM tip here. One possibility is that Hera thinks that retrieving the manual from her databanks and finding the correct tip would take her more time than it would take for Minkowski to just remember the tip. Which suggests interesting things about the nature of Hera’s memory, but also implies that - at least in Hera's view -Minkowski’s knowledge of the DSSPPM is more reliable than that of a supercomputer.

The other possibility is that Hera could have recalled the relevant DSSPPM tip incredibly quickly but she doesn’t want to, maybe because she resents having that manual in her head in the first place, or maybe because she wants to show respect for Minkowski’s knowledge as a Commander. Either way, we can see that Hera – like Eiffel – strongly associates Minkowski with the DSSPPM.

And Minkowski, even if she wasn’t the one to bring up the manual here, recalls the relevant tip immediately. Perhaps she is moving away from her trust in that manual, but everything that she learned as part of her old deference to the authority of Command is still there in her head. She might want to forget it by the end of the mission, but that’s not easily achieved. The way Minkowski’s friends/crewmates associate the manual with her emphasises the difficulty she’ll face if she tries to move away from it.

“One thousand and one pains in my ass”: The authorship of the DSSPPM

In Ep55 A Place for Everything, Eiffel effectively expresses his long-held dislike of the DSSPPM when he comes face-to-face with both of its authors:

EIFFEL What? What the hell are - wait a minute - Pryce? As in one thousand and one pains in my ass, Pryce? (sudden realization) Which... makes you...? MR. CUTTER (holding out his hand) W.S. Carter, pleased to meet you. 

It’s significant that the two ‘big bads’ of the whole series are the authors of the manual which Minkowski and Eiffel were bickering about all the way back in Ep1. It’s not the only way in which the message of this show positions itself firmly against just accepting externally imposed authority and hierarchy without question or evidence, but it does reinforce this ethos.

By being the authors of the manual, Cutter and Pryce have had a sinister hidden presence throughout the show. Long before we know who Pryce is and even before we hear Cutter’s name, their manual is there, occupying a prominent place in Minkowski’s motivations and priorities, and in her arguments with Eiffel. It’s not at all comparable to what Pryce put in Hera’s mind, but it is another way in which these antagonists have wormed their way into the heads of our protagonists.

Minkowski will have to come to terms with the fact that the 1001 tips she spent hours memorising and reciting were written by two people who would have killed her, her crew, and even the whole human race without hesitation if it served their purposes. We never get to hear Minkowski’s reaction to learning the identities of Pryce and Carter, but I think processing the role of their manual in her life will be a long and difficult road that’ll tie into a lot of other emotional processing she needs to do. Her assertion to Cutter that, without him, she is “Renée Minkowski... and that is more than enough to kick your ass!” feels like part of that journey. She doesn’t mention the DSSPPM at all in Season 4. She’s growing beyond it.

"Doug Eiffel's Deep Space Survival Guide": The DSSPPM as a weapon against those who wrote it

Last but not least, I couldn’t write about Eiffel and the DSSPPM without mentioning this scene from  Ep58 Quiet, Please:

EIFFEL As someone once told me: "Pryce and Carter 754: In an emergency, take stock of the tools at your disposal, then take stock again. Repurpose, reuse, recycle." And right now? You know what I got? I got this lighter from when Cutter was using me as his personal cabana boy. [...] and I've got myself this big, fat copy of the Deep Space Survival Manual, and you know what I'm gonna do with it? [...] Eiffel STRIKES THE LIGHTER. And LIGHTS THE BOOK ON FIRE, revealing Pryce just a few feet away from him! EIFFEL I am going to repurpose it... and reuse it... and recycle it into a GIANT FIREBALL OF DEATH! And he swings the flaming book forward, HITTING PRYCE ON THE SIDE OF THE HEAD. [...] EIFFEL That's right! Doug Eiffel's Deep Space Survival Guide, B-

No one other than Doug Eiffel could pull off the chaotic energy of this moment. It doesn’t get much more anti-authority than lighting the mandatory mission manual on fire and using it as a weapon against one of its malevolent authors. It might not be the wisest move safety-wise, and it certainly doesn’t improve the situation when the node gets jettisoned into space. But there is still a powerful symbolism in taking a symbol of the hierarchical forces that have tried to constrain you for years and setting it alight to fight back against those forces. Eiffel takes his own approach to survival and puts his own name into the title, an assertion of his agency and rejection of Command's authority.

The DSSPPM tip that he uses here is one of those he considers when stranded on Lovelace’s shuttle. It’s understandable that after that experience it might have stuck in his memory.

I can’t help feeling that the line “as someone once told me” has a double meaning here. The immediate implication is to interpret “someone” as being Pryce and Cutter – it’s their manual after all – which makes this line a fairly effective ‘fuck you’ gesture, emphasising how Eiffel is using Pryce’s manual against her in both an abstract and a physical sense.

But I think “someone” could also mean Minkowski. Eiffel uses a singular rather than plural term, there’s already an association established between Minkowski and the DSSPPM, and, in Mayday, it’s his hallucination of Minkowski that gets him to read this tip. She's probably also recited this tip to him at other points as well. Under this interpretation, this line is as much a gesture of solidarity with Minkowski as it is a taunt to Pryce. I like the idea that these two interpretations can run alongside each other, reflecting the duality of the use of the DSSPPM that I talked about in relation to the liveshow.

Conclusion

The DSSPPM is a symbol of external rules imposed on people by those with power over them. These rules can be strange, arbitrary, and even sinister, but for those with a desire for certainty and control, like Minkowski, they can be tempting. And they can have their uses, as well as the potential to be repurposed. Attitudes towards these rules provide an effective shorthand as part of Minkowski and Eiffel’s characterisation. And the clash between these attitudes, and how that clash manifests, can tell us something about how the dynamic between those characters develops and changes.

#Wolf 359 #w359 #Renee Minkowski #Doug Eiffel #Renée Minkowski #I guess I lied when I said I was halfway through at 1000 words #I hope that those who liked my preview post were up for a long read #This is over 5000 words and I still haven't said everything! #You could write a PhD thesis on this #Honestly I feel like this is full of typos and mistakes cos I was kinda tired as I proofread it but I just want to get it posted today #Otherwise I could spend even more time on it and make it even longer... (and also I want it to be out in the world) #But please do lmk if you spot a typo/mistake. I won't be offended #I'd also be interested to hear people's thoughts on any of this #Unimportant point but I'm shaking my head at Minkowski if she wouldn't let Eiffel listen to the DSSPPM instead of reading it #Audiobooks are a valid method of reading. Don't deny a man with ADHD his own approach to absorbing info! #Then again. it might have been an unfounded assumption of Eiffel's that Minkowski wouldn't have accepted him listening to it #I think in school he definitely got in trouble for boasting that he's actually read the book this time when he just watched the film #the empty man posteth

[politemagic]

The Haunting of Sleep Manor (Sleep Token Haunted House AU)

very very excited to start sharing this series!! the first chapter will be posted by the end of this week (hopefully tomorrow). i've been having a lot of fun writing it, so here's a little teaser 👻🖤

edit: Chapter I can be found over here or on ao3 if you prefer!

They didn’t have much in the way of worldly possessions, so all of their belongings packed neatly into one moving truck. The four vessels of Sleep squished together in the cab as they barreled down the quiet country road. Vessel was humming along to the radio, II lightly drumming along with his fingers against his thigh. IV’s mind had wandered off, his eyes slightly glazed over as he took in the passing scenery, III snoring against his shoulder. At last, they could see the wrought iron gates of Langley Manor, their new home looming at the end of the drive beyond. Vessel veered off the road, pulling up to the gates and shifting the truck into park, causing III to stir from his slumber.

Vessel hopped out of the driver’s door, unlocking the padlock with one of the many keys from the keyring he’d received from the realtor’s office the day before. The old house came with a ridiculous number of keys, he couldn’t even begin to imagine the various secrets it had locked away. Sleep wouldn’t have selected just any home, he was sure there was something more to this place than meets the eye. He pushed the gates open at last, quickly making his way back to the truck. The gravel driveway crunched beneath the tires as they neared Langley Manor, the vast expanse of land that came with the home sprawling out in luscious greens behind it. Vessel could hardly believe that he was finally here, that any of this was real. But the excited chatter from the others indicated to him that not only was it very real, it was just as amazing as he’d imagined it to be.

(original headcanons can be found here ☺️)

#i really just wanted an excuse to share the moodboard i made for this because i love a haunted aesthetic #i'm mostly just proofreading rn and making sure she's good to go but i'm honestly pretty happy with how it's turning out🥺 #it's been a minute since i liked my own writing this much i just hope others enjoy it as well😌 i think it's going to be a fun series #it's not going to be quite as silly as my hcs were because i do have a Plot in mind but it will still be a good time!!!! (i hope) #sleep token #sleep token fanfiction #em's stcu #the haunting of sleep manor #<- i will be cross posting between ao3 and tumblr so that tag will be home to all my haunted house au thingymabobs🥰

[siover]

i may be just gasping at straws here but there is something just. so insane about how the nature of kendall and shiv’s relationship is somewhat cannibalistic. like shiv spitting in his drink and kendall drinking it anyway and the ‘i love you but i cannot fucking stomach you’ and the idea of kendall being the sacrificial lamb in 2x10 + shiv’s ‘can’t eat’ . like the whole consumption aspect of it all.. just wondering if you had any thoughts on it i suppose!!

YES very true. the kitchen scene is a callback to their childhood in more ways than one--it reflects the siblings' relationship with each other and with food and how they're linked (dyou remember the summer of competitive eating disorders:)). its notable that only shiv and kendall say they're hungry despite none of them having eaten dinner, and that kendall is the only one who ends up eating anything. roman licks the cheese as a joke, passes the ingredients to shiv, who actually blends the discordant foods together, and together they feed kendall this drink that is definitely terrible for him. siblings ! no but i do think its an unsubtle metaphor but it works ! kendalls position as the heir has always relied on roman being the weaker dog bolstering his position, on shiv being the baby who will never get it bc shes a girl. and if he wont drink the rest, they'll drench him with it, turn his own promised position against him in jealousy and self interest and a mistaken notion of love

and shiv spitting in it was very much foreshadowing, yeah. i liked how it was a callback to her spitting in kendalls notebook after the "rape me/i'm not the only one," incident during her speech--it was a childish act then, and its one now, and it shows how any attempts at enmity or solidarity come from the same place of shared abuse, of seeing someone better than you see yourself and punishing them for the traits you share. kendall drinking it again reflects how his position will never be untinged by shivs simultaneous understanding as well as animosity. mirror traps real

the way this all relates to the characters' relationships with food is also ofc very interesting. roman doesnt eat at all, he denies his body and sees it as evidence of his failure to be logan's son. he never wanted ceo, it couldn't have been him, dad's death cements the impossibility of the love he craved by which proximity to the ceo position was made valuable at all. shiv admitted she was starving but never ate anything, only asked her mom if there was food. she brings up food only as a move, only as something that can serve her, because to acknowledge it otherwise would be weakness. ofc this is reflective of her relationship with power, and love--she'll bring it up first so she's noted as being aware of the cards at play without showing her hand. but she never actually gets it because when she's said the quiet part out loud, voiced her ambition, there's nothing stopping the quiet parts of her weaknesses in this world from being consumed i.e. her womanhood :) in the end all she can do is acknowledge the fact of her starvation, and spit into the poisonous food bowl while still hungry.

ofc its kendalls bowl she's spitting into. he sees food as fuel, as something that gets him where he needs to go, but never actually enjoys it, and sees such enjoyment as juvenile--we're not at buckley anymore--but his firm belief in rationality and health corresponding to awareness means its another step to the ideal position that doesn't really exist. at the end of the day he will drink the concoction because he considers himself stronger for it. i did a fucking year in shangai, i'm ready, etc

ultimately this is reflected in their choices in the endings. roman says yes first then retracts with shiv. i think hes the one who says shiv has no stomach for admin which is like, him pinning the decision to support kendall as well as the consideration to kill him onto shiv lol. SHIV doesnt have the stomach for admin, and SHIV cannot stomach kendall, and it comes down to the same thing--shiv shutting kendall out bc she's never been able to digest his choices. this DOES relate to pierce ofc and logan throwing up at the breakfast and ultimately waystar being a declining corporation that could never have eaten up pierce. do you see what im saying do you see how it makes sense from this angle that shiv was the only one who ended up still "in," even if only as the ceo's wife. shiv being unable to stomach kendall is the final nail in the coffin--its acceptance of this fact. of the death of waystar, and by extension logan. anyway i keep thinking about how when they all trooped into the kitchen, wet through, kids again, there was never really any real food in the fridge :)

#shiv roy #kendall roy #roman roy #machinery #usually i would just tag this sibs but its not really abt them as siblings more abt them individually rip. organized blog at what cost #hopefully this makes sense lmao i rehashed some stuff but truly the kitchen scene is one of my favs and not just bc theyre having fun <3 #i barely touched the surface when it came to pierce waystar being eaten etc etc but i hope the connections r clear. girls when METAPHORS #anyway. ty for the ask i enjoyed answering this <33 #sorry it got so long lol i could go on honestly theres aspects i missed #answered #did not proofread btw so if you see spelling errors etc no you dont <3

[bonitanightmxres]

not over you || r. abbott

rhett abbott x fem!reader

synopsis: years after your mutual breakup with rhett, he thinks he’s getting along fine. soon, he realizes he’s been lying to himself this whole time.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some fluff

length: 1.1k

Some nights, Rhett stayed out until the dawn, drinking his problems away, and maybe even burying them in some blonde whose name he couldn’t remember for the night. Then, he’d go out and do it again the next night.

And that’s exactly what he had planned to continue doing tonight—well, after he changed out of his battered t-shirt. Rhett’s plans changed as soon as he walked through the front door, hearing familiar laughter. Part of him believed maybe it was time to call it a night and sober up because there was no way he actually heard your laugh inside his house. Following the sound, Rhett made his way to the kitchen where his mother sat with another woman and talked and had a cup of coffee. Frozen in the doorframe of the kitchen, he saw the woman’s back, not getting a good look of her face. If Rhett was being totally honest, he was scared to. Scared of the fact that if it was you, he’d never be able to look away and let you go again; scared of the possibility that if this woman wasn’t you, then that would just mean that his broken heart had never healed.

“Rhett, guess who’s finally back.” Cecilia had finally taken a notice to her son’s presence, and eagerly waved him over.

His heartbeat grew rapidly, and he felt his palms clammy because as soon as the woman turned in her seat to face him, your eyes locked with his and Rhett froze. For the first time in his life, he was quiet. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. The words were caught in his throat like a fish in net—they tried to get loose and come out, but the more they tried, the more stuck they became.

“Hi, Rhett,” your soft voice knocked him out of his thoughts. “Care to join us?”

“I-”

“He’d love to,” Cecilia stood up from her seat, setting her mug in the sink and bringing a fresh cup to her son. “I’m gonna turn in for the night.” She gave you a quick hug before heading up the stairs, “Lovely seeing you again, sweetheart. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Can I-uh,” Rhett cleared his throat. “Can I sit with you?”

You let out a soft laugh, “It’s your house, Rhett. Sit wherever you want.”

A thin smile appeared in the corners of his lips as he took a seat beside you. It was then that the bruises and scrapes on his face were visible underneath the warm light of the kitchen.

“So,” Rhett started, trying to think of something to say. “What’re you up to these days?” 

“Oh, y’know,” You shrugged, “Graduated a few weeks ago, then decided to move back home. Now, I start a new job in a couple weeks.” As you sipped your coffee, you couldn’t help but notice the dried blood on his cheek. “What about you, Rhett?” You pointed to your cheek, mirroring his injuries. “What are you up to these days?” 

He chuckled, and became silent. Partly because he didn't know what to say, and partly because he wished he had something more impressive to tell you. Here you were, fresh out of college and ready to start a new chapter in your life. And here he was, bruised and bloody from a bar fight like he was twenty-one again. 

Running a kitchen towel under the warm water of the kitchen faucet, you made your way back to the table, dabbing it at Rhett’s injuries.

“Sorry,” you said as he winced. “That looks like it hurt.”

“You should see the other guy.”

“I’m guessing the other guy is a Tillerson?” You questioned, though you knew better than to ask a question with an obvious answer.

Rhett’s eyes watched your every movement, the way your hands moved gently across his skin, and the way your eyebrows crinkled together as you concentrated. For the second time tonight, he couldn't believe he wasn't drunk--that he was sober and you stood before him, intimately close and tending to his wounds. 

His injuries were merely scratches and bruises, and didn't need any attention at all. Really, you just jumped at the first opportunity to touch him, and of course, it would be because of a drunken fight with one of the Tillersons. It reminded you of the times you’d patch him up in your younger years after a riding competition--he never really needed any patching up, but it made you feel important and he let you do it anyway. 

Tossing the towel to the side, you got up and set your mug in the sink, “I should probably get going now, it’s getting late. Thank Cecilia for the coffee for me, please?”

Rhett shot up from his seat, desperate to think of a way to make you stay. After all this time, this wasn’t how he pictured he’d see you again. In fact, the truth was he’d pictured this moment for years--how he’d run into you, what he’d say. And now you were about to leave him again, and he didn't know what to do. “I love you,” Rhett blurted out of the blue. “I-I’m not over you. I tried, y’know, to move on, but I don’t think I ever will.” 

“Don’t. I-”

“Please,” he begged, slowly inching his way toward you, and reached for your hand. “I know there’s some part of you that feels something for me still. I felt it just now.” 

Rhett’s antics caught you off-guard, releasing emotions you had buried years ago. His hand was warm and rough, and it felt like home as you remembered your time with him. Every logical part of you wanted to pull your hand away, but the truth was you missed the feeling. “ Y’know, I tried too. To move on, like how we promised each other we would. But I looked for you in every person I was with,” you stared at your intertwining hands. “I’ve always loved you Rhett. I don’t think I ever stopped.” 

You placed your hand against his cheek, gently rubbing your thumb underneath the scratch that was beginning to scab. Rhett placed his own hand over yours, pressing it into his face, as if he could feel you closer that way. “There was nobody for me after you, darlin’. It’s only ever been you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and pulled you into a hug, afraid that if he let go, you might leave again. You stayed that way for a while, embraced in each other’s grasp like there was no tomorrow. 

Many years had passed since the last time you two had seen each other, but you were both determined to never let another one go by where you weren't at each other’s side. 

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fic #lewis pullman #outer range #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #honestly idk what this is #IM TRYING TO GET OUT OF WRITERS BLOCK SO HERE Y'ALL GO #i didn't proofread lol

[running-with-kn1ves]

My brain goes brrrrrr for Cirdan, and since you mentioned he was a massive virgin, could you write a lil something about the Physical intimacy TM of his first time, like how was it?

well *technically* his first time was right after the marriage ceremony, though that honestly was more of a forced performance than anything. I mentioned it a little bit in the OG one-shot but its a sort of elven tradition for couples on their wedding night to be physically intimate, lest their marriage be doomed and void of love or attraction. However, for Cirdan and reader, it wasn't particularly enjoyable like most would assume. It was mostly awkward and without rhythm, with both cirdan and his darling fumbling around just to get the job done. It was an experience that neither would prefer to talk about.

After that though, once Cirdan and reader became more comfortable with one another, say specifically after their bath moment, he was far more involved therein. Cirdan's a very affectionate lover and loves to be the small spoon, so he very much has his head buried in reader's neck, partly out of bashfullness and overstimulation. He's had very little sex education in his lifetime, so the entire process was very much a trial and error. Despite his amateurity, he gets into the rhythm and emotional aspect of sex very quickly. His lack of experience has led him to be very sensitive, and honestly finishes twice before the reader does. He has stamina for days though-- and despite his emotions running wild, hes very in tune with the readers needs.

He honestly has a massive praise kink that's both sexual and nonsexual; though his eagerness to please and lack of hesitation from how pent up he is, is far more present on the bedroom. If you so much as utter how good hes being, how good hes making you feel, it takes the elf all of his willpower not to finish right then and there.

I'd like to think he was mildly emotional once he was physically intimate past the original wedding ceremony. The first time after that, he may have shed a few tears from the rush of physical intensity, but also because he had never felt so loved within one moment. Hes a strongly silent type, but he wears his heart on his sleeve with physical touch as his love language. Whether its suffocating the reader with a bear hug or putting them in a mating press, hes all in for it.

#Did not proofread this so #ridiculous thoughts galore! #I love cirdan and writing that piece was honestly therapeutic #It remains as one of my favorite pieces ive written so far #kn1ves rants #knives rants #elf x reader #male elf x reader #male elf

[dearfizz]

Not So Shoujo Love Story Hanna Characterisation in Ep 91

it's the explosion episode

spoilers until ep 103. I also gush and compliment @curryukuu 's writing in this. She isn't active on tumblr as much anymore but if she sees this, hi.

Re-reading this episode makes me focus a lot more on Hanna's pov instead of the explosion. Hanna was distancing herself from Rei. There is a canon explanation now in ep 103 where Hanna said that she was jealous and felt inferior and that she wasn't good enough. BUT I HAVE MY OWN INTERPRETATION.

Hanna's dialogue in ep 103

TO ME, she wanted to abandon feelings of Rei. I know it's very unlike Hanna because she loves Rei so so so much, BUT HEAR ME OUT (if there's anyone out there reading this)

She's been chasing Rei for like a season and a half by now. In season 2, Rei's a lot more responsive to Hanna's flirting (it was so much insufferable good lord I felt like a third wheeler read their interaction sometimes).

(weird basketball(?) analogy here) The ball has kinda just stayed in her court since FOREVER. Like I know that Rei said that she cannot return Hanna's romantic feelings. The ball her is Hanna's feelings btw and it's just... been there. Rei doesn't mind that Hanna has been romantically interested in her since ep 1. Heck, she doesn't even mind advances and flirting from Hanna. HOWEVER, as of S2 Rei has only been toying with it. Rei is literally flirting back with Hanna. Both unintentionally and intentionally. I'm sure Hanna's aware of whatever, not platonic tension, both of them have. But Rei not passing the ball back after all of that toying IS a move in of itself.

At this point, Rei is STILL holding on to her comphet version of love. (idk if their sexuality have been canonized, but Rei is so lesbian to me. It really makes sense to me thematically, but if Rei is canon as bi I would respect that. I would keep the idea of Lesbian Rei to myself). Shoujo mangas really was a trauma coping mechanism. That in turned, really made her have internalised comphet. The whole point of her trying to find the perfect guy was because she didn't want to end up like her parents. It's so hard to throw away something that was literally your will to live (I assume) for, like, what a decade of your life?

So after Hanna's visit to her house, she finally gets why Rei's not passing the ball back. At that bridge, I'm pretty sure she's convinced a romantic relationship is never going to come out of it. Ever. For Hanna, it's better to just pack your back, distance yourself, and move on. If I was Hanna, I would have literally done the same. Like, just imagine. Your girl is really REALLY adamant in finding the perfect guy. And you're not a guy. There is no point in any of this flirting and advances anymore. It's better to leave those feelings behind. It's just. Not meant to be. That's how life is in reality.

IF this story is a lot more realistic, Rei would have confronted Hanna about why Hanna's distancing herself from her. Let's just say that MY interpretation of why Hanna is actually canon. Rei would respect Hanna's wishes of wanting to be distant with her. Rei and Hanna would be physically and emotionally apart. This is the period where Rei reflects and realizes that hey, I want Hanna in my life. And in a romantic way. Throw in some angst in there. Then Rei would confess to Hanna. Boom they get together. Idk how this would turn out with the Canon reason, but I think it would be roughly the same?

BUT THIS STORY IS A FEVER DREAM, AND I LOVE NSSLS STORY BECAUSE OF THAT

Did you check nssls tag on webtoon? It's COMEDY. Not romance (even though it's very romcom to me). There shall not be long-lasting angst. Nuh uh. Not in this household. So curryuku does what curryuku does best. Cook up an unhinged plotline.

Alien world domination plot is now REAL and CANON from ep 92 - 102. Rei got Isekai-ed and is thrown into a world that she has been wanting and dreaming for so long. A world where she can chase and pine for the perfect, handsomest guy. A world where she has a perfect family. But she realizes that this isn't what she wanted. She wanted her friend's back. She wanted Taro back. But most importantly

she realizes she wants Hanna.

More than that perfect, handsomest guy that she's been dreaming of. That plotline did exactly just that. It achieves the same thing as my small reality au paragraph does. But in its own unique.

The Rei Isekai-ed episodes really felt like curryuku was holding me by the scruff. THE ABSOLUTE CHOKEHOLD IT HAS ON ME. No plot line in that comic, heck even media, has ever had that effect on me. Life LITERALLY stopped for like 5 min every Tuesday for me. Idc if I have class going on rn I'm going to read it in class (I'm in architecture, and the class is just consultation. The lecturer really isn't teaching anything it's a 1-1 thing). It had me on the edge of my seat. It had me crying and screaming. LIKE LOOK AT THIS PANEL.

That's honestly so much better than a love confession imo. It was so sweet it made me sick. My friends are SO sick of me talking about nssls for like 2 months ish. The only complaint I had was that I just wish the arc had lasted more than 10 episodes. But I really don't mind that much.

Idk how to end this. Curryuku, your brain is so fascinating. Thank you for producing nssls. Seriously. I might get a nssls tattoo.

#not so shoujo love story #nssls #webtoon #if you're a nssls enjoyer follow me maybe? #but I rb a lot of mcyt stuff lol #so I get it if you don't want to follow me #no I'm not making another tumblr account #if youre reading this i love you #would be nice if you rb and like haha #but honestly I'm going to assume this is just me screaming at the void #but I hope the void replies back #as you can see #i am very passionate about this #curryuku ily #not proofread #we die like.... idk no one died in the comic #yet

[updownlately]

in your embrace (this crowded room doesn’t matter)

| leah williamson x reader

~~~

“You tired yet?” The soft murmur of words against your ear had you relaxing, the familiar voice automatically putting you at ease. 

Closing your eyes at the feel of her breath on your ear, you hummed in thought, processing the question as music filtered in from the speakers near you. 

Continuing to sway gently in the dim light, you tightened your grasp around Leah’s neck and pulled back ever so slightly, your eyes meeting blue ones.

“Not quite yet. Are you?” 

“I don’t think I can ever be tired while being in your arms…” 

Smiling shyly, you shook your head. “Half past midnight and your flirting just doesn’t stop huh?”, you questioned. 

The cheeky shrug and teasing smile you received in response had you quietly laughing, you tucking yourself back into the crook of the blonde’s neck, letting her guide you as the song changed. 

You both had spent the day celebrating love, having been invited to an old teammate’s wedding.

Partying hard through the better part of the evening and night, on the dance floor with friends and teammates, Leah had whisked you away a short while ago, just as the slow songs had once again come on, more than glad to finally get some time alone with you after the hectic day. 

The pair of you had ended up tucked near the back, lost in your own world as song after song had played, tons of other couples rotating on and off the dance floor as you two stuck around.

“I can’t believe we managed to make it on time…”

The quiet statement had Leah groaning in playful annoyance, her grip on your waist tightening.

“Not my fault you’re a distraction!”

“Me? I was ready on time…hair and makeup both done long before Uber had arrived. And if I recall correctly, it wasn’t me putting on lipstick and blush in the car, love.” 

Your hushed jest had the blonde hanging her head back, your pace slowing as she chuckled quietly at the memory. 

“At least the music was decent this time.”

Biting back a smile, you followed Leah’s movement without thinking, mind occupied recalling the morning before the wedding ceremony. 

Though the pair of you had woken up on time- a miracle if you were asked, considering it was a Saturday off- you had somehow managed to spend a tad bit (read: over an hour) too long in bed, more content with lazily cuddling as the time ticked by, you both blissfully unaware until your warning alarm had rung.

It had been a scramble to get ready in time for the wedding, the both of you running around the apartment grabbing all that you needed, you claiming the main ensuite and ushering Leah and her suit to the guest one so that you could both be ready to go.

Even with your strategic separation, the blonde had ended up over in your shared bedroom, eventually roped into zipping you up and helping you with your jewelry. 

Somehow, helping you out had turned into a small make out session, and well, if Leah had to fight the bumps on the road as she sang along to the radio whilst sorting out the final touches on her make up as the result of the time lost, you definitely weren’t the one complaining, more than content with your finished look and the presence of the blonde beside you. 

Snapping out of your thoughts as you heard the familiar strumming of your favourite James Arthur song play, you pulled back to smile at Leah, the blonde returning the sentiment as she tugged you ever so closer, your faces mere inches apart.

Matching grins on your faces, you matched your steps with Leah, softly waltzing under the dimmer lights in the back, satisfied with the knowledge that you would likely not be bothered, more than happy to be consumed in your own world, in your love. 

“…I’m so in love with you…and I hope you know…,” Leah sang lowly, just loud enough for you to hear. 

Finishing her line, you smile grew as you continued the song. “…darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold…” 

“…we've come so far, my dear…look how we've grown…and I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old…just say you won't let go…”

Voice dropping as you let the midfielder finish the stanza, you shook your head in amazement, blush coating your cheeks as your thought of how lucky you were. 

Head tilting as the soft hue reflected perfectly off of Leah’s eyes, you took a second to admire the darker colour that they appeared to be, as well as the rest of your girlfriend.

“You look absolutely incredible in this dim light- the way it’s perfectly highlighting your jawline and cheekbones, you’re gorgeous. And it’s somehow making your eyes nearly look this ethereal navy colour. Never thought they could get prettier but here we are…” You let your voice trail off, the quiet murmur over the music disappearing as you traced over the facial features of the one you loved, noting the rosy hue that covered her cheeks at your compliment. 

Rubbing your thumb comfortingly on the nape of Leah’s neck, you watched her wordlessly accept your compliment, her eyes not meeting your gaze telling you that Leah appreciated your comment. Picking up your pace once again and tightening your hold around her shoulders, you brought yourselves closer, picking up the pace to match the new song that played, an Ed Sheeran one this time. 

Taking a second to break out of your bubble as the song faded out, you took a look around the hall, realizing you were the only couple left on the dance floor, even the straggling drunk folks having sat down or headed out. 

Glancing up at your watch, eyes widening as you saw the time had nearly hit half past one, you slowed down your pace, looking around once more only to notice even the DJ wasn’t at their station, likely a playlist the source of the music playing. 

Bringing Leah’s attention to the station as you stopped dancing, you cast the blonde a look of disbelief before bursting out into laughter. 

“Leah, I can’t believe we’ve stayed out here that long…everyone else’s nearly gone!”

And as Leah’s head swivelled around in search for your friends, well aware that the newly-wed couple had headed out a little while ago, you held back your laughter, amazed at how the time flew by as you both had spent the nearly two hours dancing together, lost in each other’s embrace, completely blind to everyone else’s presence (or lack thereof) in the room. 

Turning back to you with a shocked look on her face, the blonde just barely managed to sputter out her next words. “We surely couldn’t have been dancing for that long, right?”

“Leah, I really think we ‘J-Lo’d’ this and very much have ‘danced the night away’,” you responded, giggling at your horrible joke. 

Shaking her head amusedly at the lame line, the blonde grabbed your hand, leading you towards your table. 

“I wish we could’ve danced a bit longer…forever even…” 

Wrapping your arm around Leah’s waist, you brought your joined hands up to your lips, placing a kiss on the back of her hand before stopping her in her tracks and nudging her to look at you, your voice just loud enough for you two to hear.

“How about this...at our wedding, you and I’ll make sure to dance until both our feet ache, okay?” 

Looking up into eyes shining with unspoken love, you let yourself be pulled into Leah’s embrace, sinking happily into the emotion-filled kiss being placed on your lips- the unsaid agreement clear.

Basking in the pure adoration, you held on tightly to Leah, grip only loosening as Leah pulled back, her wiping the slightly smudged lipstick gently off your face. Blonde head nodding vigorously, her response was enthusiastic. 

“I think I’d love that.”

Balancing on your tiptoes, you placed a final chaste kiss on the blonde’s lips as if to agree to the final decision before grabbing her hand and continuing your trek to your table.

Looking back as you walked ahead, you shot the blonde a wink and a sly smile, quickly grabbing Leah’s coat before speaking.

“Great! Then all that’s left is for you to propose!”

And as you left a wonderfully perplexed Leah at the table, you slowly began walking backwards to the parked car, a proud smile on your face as you faced the Englishwoman, a lovesick grin of disbelief shining from her.

You absolutely couldn’t wait to marry her. 

#honestly think i could've wrote this much better but idk if i have it in me to edit it so here ya go. sorry #not proofread #it's much longer than i intended #too many tags as usual but fuck it #fluff #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso community #my writing #blurb #iye

[khaothanawat]

bad buddy fic everything you thought your life would be

(3k, teen+, post-canon, fluff, drunk texting)

He’d stripped the second he’d walked in their door and beelined directly for the shower, then barely toweled off before heading straight to the bed, to Pran. To where he’d assumed Pran would be, warm and soft and waiting for him. If Pran were here right now, he’d be tugging Pat up, turning him around until Pat’s head was pressed into the cotton of his t-shirt, rather than the perfectly ironed sheets. Pran would shove his nose into Pat’s wet hair and mumble about Pat being a nuisance, about how annoying it was to sleep next to a giant wet man. Pat would pout into Pran’s chest and say ‘I showered for my boyfriend’ and Pran would just hum, his arms tucked even more closely around Pat’s shoulder, and he’d smile a little harder into Pat’s hair.  Really, Pat thinks, the fact that none of this has happened to him is the greatest injustice he could ever dare to dream of. Pat comes home to a suspiciously empty bed.

ao3

#bad buddy #bad buddy fic #bad buddy the series #bad buddy fanfic #patpran #pat x pran #show: bad buddy #fic: mine #fic: bbs #ship: bbs: pat x pran #it turns out when I have to write bb fic on the spot I will simply default to writing pat being a deranged simp #i barely proofread this honestly it's just 3k of romantic nonsense

[compacflt]

you're a legend for referencing lauren berlant and michael warner in relation to your top gun fic and I'd like to think that they would say the same!! the stories that you've created are beautiful explorations of some of the biggest questions posed in queer theory: who are we in public? who are we in private? where is the line that separates the two (spoiler: there is no way to actually separate the two, no binary) and what are the structural forces bearing down upon all of that bullshit! I for one would love to see your questions about privacy and respectability explored with rooster and ice and mav. especially considering the generational cliff between them, with the aids crisis in the background of rooster's childhood when they were all the closest, in your world. anyway! you are an incredible writer and it's been a privilege to read you work :)

thank you so much for this ask!! yes i have spent so much time thinking about this. In March i started working on a new-yorker-style interview that tried to address a bunch of these questions. Since I didn’t do wip wednesday yesterday (sorry) here’s some relevant sections of that wip related to your ask. I don’t think it’s spoilers since I’m not sure id ever post this anywhere—you can see for yourself how entertaining the writing is and it’s overly political and didactic. Just a lame hegelian dialectic where im interrogating my own characters (at least, my own interpretations of them) on their politics. And I’m not an expert on any of this stuff (currently on the slow uphill climb out of the valley of the dunning-kruger graph—trying to learn). Nor am I fact-checking it & that feels irresponsible to post For Real. so just take this post as a fun (for me) exploration of what i (20y.o., ignorant, no editorial oversight, smooth-brained) think Might be some political implications of my fics, trying to write from a lib-moderate pov (tough!)

talking points I wanted to address:

The politics of ice’s career, both internationally & domestically (some wild navy scandals happened under his “tenure” [fat Leonard most pressingly—would LOVE to know how actual TGM’s ice & mav felt about that bc it was SO FUCKING CRAZY, navy officers & admirals having wild sex parties paid for by a singapore defense contractor (the details are so fucking crazy i can’t even say them here—one anecdote involves 7th fleet officers using WWII/Korean war general macarthurs historical memorabilia during sex acts—go read about it) a couple PACFLT RDMLs were charged with actual crimes, 60 admirals (of the navys total 160 admirals) were under investigation & both my and TGM’s ice & cyclone would probably have been two of them, basically if you were a pacflt officer in the mid-2000s-2010s you were under investigation it was so fucking wild]) —and another geopolitical look at the implications of both top gun movies (reagan weighs in from beyond the grave)

Ice and mav who can’t win—they want their relationship to Not Be A Big Deal. leave us alone. We’re Normal. we’re not Weird or anything. —but can’t understand WHY their relationship is so sensational/political—yes, boys, it is a big deal, sorry!! mavericks probably the last Ace the world will ever see & ice is the secretary of the navy and they’re married, fuck yes that’s newsworthy!!!

my version of Ice acceding to SECNAV at the intersection of a couple crucial contextual moments for the navy/military as a whole: 1. Recruitment is currently fucked. This interview takes place in 2020/early 2021, and things were bad then, but the numbers just came out for the Navy this year, and hoooooly shit they are so bad. And blame is falling along partisan lines like always: Ds blame low recruitment numbers on lack of benefits etc, Rs literally i am not shitting you are mostly blaming low recruitment numbers on the military going Woke. The USN has long been seen as the most obnoxiously woke/gay (derogatory) service to conservatives & there’s a lot of political baggage that comes with having a SECNAV who, while not openly identifying as gay, is openly married to another man. especially with a recruiting crisis like this one. 2. Withdrawal from afghanistan obviously. kind of a shit way for ice to end his career ngl. It Did Not Go Super Well. 3. rising tensions in eastern europe pre RU-UA invasion in 2022, what that means for the MIC and procurement, etc. 4. The joint chiefs openly declaring they (& by extension the military as a whole) would not support trump’s coup attempt post-J6—the end of that extremely politically polarized presidency—what does it mean for the following Dem president to then have a gay secnav after that? It’s HUGE. SO no matter what, Ice as SECNAV is going to go down in history. He just wants it to be for his actions, not the fact that he’s gay.

Icemav’s relationship with their identities. We really really don’t want to be known for being gay. “Ask me what my proudest achievement is, I’ll tell you without a second of hesitation—my family. Without a doubt. But does any military man really want to be best-known for his marriage?” We want to be known for being the BEST at our jobs, which we are. We’ve earned that title! There’s so much more interesting stuff about us than who we got married to.

AND how that is a liberal-moderate-conservative median-50% meritocratic WET DREAM of an ideology. an interview like this one is a straight fluff piece pre-ice’s confirmation to secnav—it lets him prove to the moderate liberals that he’s left-leaning enough to protect social justice interests in the USN, AND prove to conservatives that he’s right-leaning enough to not let identity politics/“woke bs” get in the way of the navy’s mission of providing a lethal maritime fighting force. the merits of this ideology are up for debate.

maybe helping the conservative viewpoint of that ideology: The fact that the Kazansky-Mitchell-Bradshaw-seresin family is so not-stereotypically gay. Like, look at these four guys. 9-to-11 combat kills between them (11 in my universe where ice gets an extra 2, 9 canon confirmed) in a period of history/modern warfare when ANY air-to-air kill is/was massively historically significant. Extremely macho & tough. They present themselves about as traditionally and toxically masculine as you could possibly get. Theyve KILLED PEOPLE. They’re not “soft” by any stretch of the imagination. Physically & emotionally they ARE extremely conservative, and there’s something to be said about the politics of that too—molding yourself into the shape of what you think a man should look like, just to avoid persecution, and then performing masculinity BETTER than even the men who would want to persecute you…!

Related to your ask: the modern/young ppl inclination to make sexuality SO political and public. When asked how he could reckon with joining a DADT-ruled navy, rooster answers: “hope I could do something to destroy it before it could destroy me.” When asked why he DIDNT use any of his considerable power to influence the repeal of DADT, ice answers: “it was better than the blanket ban that came before it. And maybe I’ve always wanted neither to tell nor to be asked.” the conservative respectable opinion that your intimate relationships ought to be PRIVATE, doesn’t matter if you’re gay or straight—just do your job, and preferably do it well. yeah, don’t ask and don’t tell. It’s not anyone’s business. ice doesn’t have a philosophical problem with DADT, because he agrees sexuality should be private & secret. —is it anyone’s business? whose business is it? How much of your personal life do you owe the public if you’re a public-facing individual like the COMPACFLT or SECNAV? all good questions!!!!

#& unanswerable! #sooo fun to ignore the big ‘is the military bad’ questions in favor of the nitty gritty of policy #yes it’s bad. next! #poor ice and mav honestly. if it wasn’t such a big deal theydve been married in the 90s #its all external influencing the internal #impossible to not be products of their time #‘marshallian system’ as very niche military officer succession strategy #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #icemav #top gun #top gun maverick #edts notes #top gun fanfiction #sorry i probably won’t be posting as much for the next couple weeks. finals season and i am so deep in the trenches its actually not funny. #i think there’s a grammatical typo in excerpt 2. their* #and in excerpt 1 too. not really proofreading these. shrug.