#and if he REALLY wanted to use the unpredictable seasons

[lesbianalanwake]

Severance S2E2:

--holy shit. I see why the season is 10 episodes instead of 9. two episodes to resolve the S1 finale and wind up to the pitch. there was so much legwork in this episode, and so much tension that I could barely sit still.

--I hope they paid Milchick a big overtime bonus in addition to his new salary!!! man did all that in 48 hours!!!

--Mark and Devon.... Mark being in denial about the possibility that Mark S could have been talking about Gemma, when we later see that it's been weighing on him heavily and he needed to talk to Cobel to confront it. it's such a small, small hope.... if he believes in the possibility that Gemma is alive, and it turns out that she is not, it would destroy him completely, and he's already come so close to destroying himself while grieving the first time. but Devon! Devon is so sharp! she knows her brother, and she glimpsed a younger, lighter version of her brother that she hasn't seen in a long time, and she clocked his tone and body language and everything about the situation correctly! and she can't live with the unanswered question of whether Gemma could be alive, because she misses her sister-in-law and misses who her brother used to be! she can't stop thinking about it while Mark is doing everything in his power to not think about it! aaaaah!

--Cobel bookending this episode by being as unhinged and mysterious as ever. we don't even know if she accepted the advisory council position! what is she up to! the final scene is so fucking good because I was thinking "I bet she's thinking about hitting Mark with her car," and then she screams like a bat out of hell and almost does just that LMAO. and she's still telling him to quit, even though Lumon is doing something significant with Gemma and "Cold Harbor," enough that they need Mark back to finish it, and Cobel knows what it is and wants something from it, and now Mark knows for sure that Gemma is alive because he needed to look Cobel in the eye and ask. I love their weird fucking dynamic. she's so fucking mad at Lumon, but maybe cares about Mark in her own unhinged way?? and his feelings were HURT that she lied to him because he went straight for the only thing that could maybe hurt her feelings a little bit in turn ("I ate your shitty fucking cookies").

--makes me hope that Cobel gets a "villain turned weird ally" arc, and that Milchick is right behind her, because he's already getting a taste of how thankless the severed floor manager position is, getting no guidance beyond "let Kier guide your heart" and having to defend the feat he managed to pull together in 48 hours.

--which brings me to: HELENA. HELENAAA. class traitor arc INCOMING. the "behind the scenes" bit reinforced this too: she is living in a gilded cage (the shot of her on the top floor with the windows acting as bars!) and seeing that her innie of all people gets affection and respect in a way that she never has, and she is enthralled. you can do it baby! I hope you kill your dad!

- I'm glad they clarified that the correct term for complex innie/outie romantic dynamics is "throuple" because Mark/Helly is finally compelling. by itself = eh. as part of Helena's development and possibly some kind of villainous fixation that can't possibly end well no matter how you slice it because Mark/Mark S is also going through a throuple thing with his dead wife who is actually alive, and don't think I've forgotten whatever thing that Helena and Milchick had going on in S1 = now we're cooking with gas. not to mention Burt spying on Irving! throuples for days.

--tentatively believing that it really is Helena down there, and they sent her to play the part of Helly R to keep Mark complacent so that Cold Harbor gets finished, because Helly is too much of an unpredictable wild card but Helena is controllable (for now!). which would add another juicy flavor to Mark/Helly. they really did it, they really made the ship pop.

--it is so, so compelling how innies/outies are opposites. Helly is bold and rebellious, Helena is calm and subservient. Mark S is sweet and mild-mannered, Mark is cold and sarcastic. Dylan G is confident and driven, Dylan George is nervous and hesitant. Irving B is obedient and proper, Irving Bailiff is defiant and unconventional. and yet! bits of the other shine through, and we see it more and more, and they're slowly but surely on a collision course.

--the Good Doors interviewer says "you remind me of myself" and looks like Dylan, and I love this show because I can't tell if it's to continue the visual motif of doubling/reflections and show a "what could have been" path for Dylan, or if it's because there is truly something FUCKED going on across this whole town. or both.

--Lumon is in such a precarious position. they're a major global corporation, and they have politicians in their pocket, but there is also a lot of hostility and mistrust from the general public, enough to make a severed employee unhireable. (which further entraps them..... Dylan. 😭) Lumon has to walk a fine line to continue, uh, whatever it is they're doing, without turning the public against them in a way that they couldn't recover from, hence the placating attempts at damage control. but all it would take would be a sufficiently strong spark to light that powder keg.

--because like, man.... I hope Helena and Cobel and Milchick all get their "fuck you Lumon" arc. god. so many threads poised to unravel out of control and snap with the right push because the line that Lumon is walking is THIN.

[ace-and-ranty]

Listen, I just feel like having one (1) incoming ice age would have been conflict enough for Game of Thrones. You can have all the mounting time pressure, the survival challenges, the snow imagery, the incredulous masses, yadda yadda yadda, and you don't have to address the EXTREMELY WILD biological and societal implications of having unpredictably sized seasons.

I mean. Not that he did address the wild implications. As far as I know. Which again, begs the question of why put it in the text, if it's never gonna influence anything?

[happy74827]

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their real names."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple to say. Something easy, yet not so simple to answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was�� humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

[princessbrunette]

Rewatching season one and thinking about the scene where Wheezie walks in and Rafe quickly flips over his innapropriate magazine out of respect. Imagine him doing the same for deer!reader but because he doesn’t want to taint her innocence

waaaait why are you kind of a genius 🙂‍↕️ i see this as neighbour!rafe with deer!reader and it’s not because he doesn’t wanna taint her innocence, it’s kind of just a knee jerk reaction because he doesn’t want the hot neighbour to see his porn magazines 😒

you come skipping over, rafe barely noticing until you’re virtually right infront of him due to the marijuana clouding his brain. his hand shoots out, flipping the magazines before running a bashful hand through his floppy hair.

“wha’s that?” you hum before you even get to greet him.

“dont worry, alright - why’re you over here anyway?” he drawls, inwardly wondering why his first reaction was to be rude to you. perhaps he’s simply irritated that he got caught.

“was looking for my parents because they’re not home. thought they might be here.” you shrug one shoulder, and he nods slowly, taking a huff from his bong. you stare over the porch, looking into the distance to see if you could see them, or anyone for that matter — as you weren’t so keen on being caught with rafe whilst he’s smoking weed. it didn’t really go with your image.

“y’want some? or….” he coughs, and you turn to blink at him.

“oh, um…” you swallow, overthinking the whole thing. you knew you’d sound deathly uncool. “i don’t smoke.”

rafe wets his lips, nodding exaggeratedly as if to silently say ‘of course.’ before putting it aside. “yeah, uh… good. shits bad for you. you— you know drugs in general just fuck everything up. they ruin lives, man they — they just take everything…i mean, shit.” he rants, growing increasingly more irritated with seemingly no one by the second. at the end of his mini rage, he slams his fist into the soft arm of the porch seat he reclines on, making you widen your eyes slightly.

“yes… that’s what they told us during the anti drug assemblies at school.” you converse, awkwardly wiping your hands down the sides of your plaid dress. you knew rafe enough now to not be so deathly shy, but that didn’t rid you of your social anxiety.

“hah…yeah. shit, i forget we went to the same school. i probably walked right by you, huh.” he calms almost immediately, in the stereotypical unpredictable rafe cameron way. he did walk right past you. many times. you nod, saying nothing at all as to not give yourself away before craning to look behind you at your exit.

“okay. well… if my parents aren’t here i should head home. they’ll probably be there soon anyway.” you glance at your shoes as rafe stands, nodding casually.

“yeah…yeah.”

you go to walk down the porch steps, but stop— feeling a wave of bravery, and turn to look at him over your shoulder, adjusting the tote bag that hangs from it. “oh… and you shouldn’t read those pornographic magazines. they’re objectifying and damaging to women.” you try to hold your chin high, but feel your face get hot. he leans against the porch balcony, seemingly unbothered as you continue walking away.

“yeah well the women in these magazines are gettin’ paid a shit tonne of money so i wouldn’t worry ‘bout them alright?” he calls out carelessly as you disappear away further, before turning his back and sighing, hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “shhhit.” he whispers, to no one but himself.

[ceratedfish24]

There are SO many negative nancys this season. Y’all need to cut it out. You’ve gotten so entitled.

“This was a bad wildcard” I don’t know how old you are, but I was in 3rd grade when I was taught how to give constructive criticism, and I was way younger when I learned that most people don’t like receiving unsolicited criticism. All of the players have loved the challenge of each of the wild cards. They have loved staying on their toes. If they genuinely hated it, they would have said something. Changes would be made. If it’s not interesting to you, then you can stay quiet and leave. You’ve gotten way too comfortable disrespecting people from behind a screen.

“The teams are unoriginal” Making sure that the players are having a good time is among the top priorities of this series. They are naturally going to link up with people they’re comfortable with. If you have a problem with that, then maybe you need to be put in a room with your best friends and some people you kind of know and be criticized when you gravitate towards your best friends. I don’t understand why you all are having such a problem with the concept of seeking comfort in a scary and unpredictable environment.

“Pearl shouldn’t be on a team with Cleo and Scott” well, she made her choice, didn’t she. That’s not up to you. She is an adult. She can choose who she hangs out with. Cleo and Pearl have not had significantly more of a rivalry than any other two players on the server. It seems like you’re just paying more attention to them because they’re women. Don’t try to take away from Pearl’s autonomy. Don’t try to conduct who she hangs out with. It’s really fucked up, what happened to Grian and Scar. Don’t let it happen again. Additionally, Pearl doesn’t care if you don’t think her character should be getting along with Cleo and Scott. The lore is made to fit the events of the server, and never the other way around. If you’re not creative enough to come up with a lore-reason for Pearl, Cleo, and Scott to be getting along, then I really don’t know how you’re still alive.

“Scott’s going to kill Pearl” why. Why would he do that. What record do you have of Scott betraying Pearl for no reason. The only reason he didn’t want to accept her as his ally in Double Life was because he just teamed with her in Last Life, and you all have proven just how much you’re gonna whine about a repetitive team. What history does Scott have of killing his own teammates. The biggest concern on that team is Impulse, who is notorious for holding grudges and betraying alliances. And yet your focus is on the catty two who are loyal to the core. Does that not sound like stereotyping to you? Do you even watch their perspectives? Cause you don’t act like you do.

It is a legitimate miracle that Grian is giving us another season. Be grateful, or we’re not getting another. You try coming up with balanced ideas that will last 6-8 episodes with ~15 people. See how many you come up with.

[kitkat13001]

☆⋆｡𖦹° 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎!𝙻 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

>> l lawliet x reader

i feel like he’d thrive with a pet. he’s never had any exposure to animals so it’s definitely a new experience for him. i think the unpredictability of a cat would suit him. its irregular behavior keeps him on his toes, given his tendency to analyze patterns. he’d be very affectionate with a cuddly cat 

i think he would also like the loyalty of a dog. he needs stability in his life 🫶 and a cute little puppy that’ll grow w him is just perfect for him. plus, im sure it’d force him to exercise a little more (couldn’t hurt him tbh) w all the running after it he’d be doing

he watches true crime for background noise—if he actually sits down to watch it, he’ll figure it out in the first five minutes (if he didn’t already know the case outcome himself). he needs to multitask in order to genuinely enjoy it, so he usually puts it on while he cooks or cleans so he’s not dedicating his full focus to it and proceed to act like a mom watching a telenovela 

*gasp* “they found the body in the lake!”

“hmm…that was anticlimactic.”

“‘breaking news’? i had already figured that out three episodes ago.”

“oh, i worked this case!”

his cooking is shit at the beginning. you have to be patient with him. he goes in thinking bc he’s so smart it’ll come out good no matter what. (this is the case with a lot of activities he’s now discovering due to the new lifestyle). he is wrong. 

HOWEVER…he does improve with time. he’ll follow a recipe to perfection and study it until he gets it right. the only downside is his food tends to be on the more plain/bland side, so if you like strong flavors i’d keep seasonings handy. he grew up in england, what do you expect? he does excel at making sweets and baked goods though, those tend to come out more flavorful.

for all his previously normal ‘secrecy’ he’s actually a chronic oversharer. because you’re bonded for life now, he feels the need to tell you everything, all of the time. his brain runs a mile a minute and he voices pretty much every thought he has. 

“does the fan seem louder to you?”

”no, ryuzaki. go to bed.”

“but we’re not doing anything tomorrow, so we can sleep in. there’s no need to go to bed right this instant.”

“…”

“that won’t be the case next week, though, we’ve got that birthday dinner to attend.”

“…”

“dinner sounds nice enough, but i loathe the thought of shopping for a present. maybe—“

“ryuzaki. go. to. sleep.”

“hmph.”

similarly, he has a tendency to notice your patterns (he calls it a “detective’s habit”). he’s freakishly accurate with it too. sometimes it’s useful, like when he stops at the store to pick up your favorite snacks and hygiene products when he knows your time of the month is approaching. however, sometimes it’s…just weird

“darling, do you need to use the restroom?”

“um…no?”

“really? interesting. your diet hasn’t changed the last couple days, and you usually use the restroom at approximately this time for about 10 to 12 minutes every day.”

“…what the fuck?”

even though you’ve both changed your names in order to secure your identities and safety, he still calls you by your real name when it’s just the two of you. in public he prefers to call you pet names instead of your newfound aliases

he has no issues switching back n forth and he’d never slip up for fear of exposing you both, but he just tries to avoid calling you by your cover name. he feels a little guilty because if he was a ‘normal person’ you wouldn’t have had to undergo all these procedures just to be with him. he’s used to using different names for himself, but it makes him a little sour that you now have to do that too :(

speaking of sour, he’s a veeeryy jealous man. he’s not obnoxious or even outright about it, but he doesn’t like when other people get too close to you (physically and emotionally). part of it is him being paranoid that they “know something” about you, but part of it is just bc he’s just a clingy lil guy 🥺 and he just wants to be your only special guy

he’s like a territorial cat

he gets nightmares about the kira case and all of his other past cases. he doesn’t make a scene when he wakes up from them, but if you notice he’s awake don’t ask him about them. it’s unlikely he’ll answer you, and he’ll feel bad thinking he woke you up. just pretend to still be asleep and subtly cuddle closer

it coaxes him right back to sleep knowing you’re safe and sound beside him. if you’re brave you can ask in the morning, but it’s likely he’ll have forgotten the dream by then

pleeeeassee take up yoga with him. since he doesn’t need to be crouched in his heightened-deductive-skill position 24/7 anymore, it’s a worthwhile investment to fix his posture and his numerous back problems. he might enjoy the calmness and flexibility yoga provides

he might be open to the idea of children. according to canon, he only interacted with the wammy kids once very briefly, but i like to think he was fairly involved with the orphanages considering they were raising his successor. it only makes sense they’d need to get to know him at least a little—and it would explain why near’s mannerisms are so similar to his. 

i think contrary to popular opinion he would be good with kids—in his own special way. he’s not exceptionally cuddly, but he won’t reject affection either. and his intuition and reflexes are so keen that it’s not like the kid would ever be in danger. 

he’s such a homebody. i mean, we already knew that—but him being able to go out in public now has not changed his desire to want to be alone (w/ you)

he has mixed feelings about crowded places. on the one hand, the anonymity of it is kind of nice and it sets his mind at ease that no one will be able to recognize you two in such a swarm. but on the other, someone is touching him and all the noise n stuff sorta overstimulates his nervous system

the next best alternative? take him to places that are still public and out-and-about but a little more secluded. a corner booth in the back of a little restaurant, a sprawling botanical garden, an independent cafe that’s not overcrowded, etc 

HE CANT DRIVE LMAOOO. a helicopter is one thing but cars??? on the road??? with other cars?????!!! he cannot. he’s a MENACE. hopefully you can drive, but if not then it comes to public transportation 🤷‍♀️ 

[the-main-daine]

Life Series Character Renders:

Featuring Martyn, Mumbo and Pearl

(I actually have quite a lot to say about two of these this time.)

Martyn:

Human.... ish. Hear me out on this one:

So Martyn has this fascinating background lore to the Life Series called Watcher/Eyes and Ears Lore. I'm quietly obsessed with this.

I love watching his lore streams after every series, and have come up with a few theories on my own: His thumbnails are always fully illustrated, so his character has a canon 'look' for every season, which I think is just, deeply cool.

But in his lore, there's also this space between SMPs, where the Watchers kind of... hold people until they can be used again. And since Martyn is the protagonist of the very cool story he's writing, I got it in my head that in this space between, Martyn isn't QUITE human. Maybe he was at one point.

Maybe he never was, I don't know.

But alongside all the cracks and stuff that have started to show up on his body; there's seams along the joints, and light shining within, as he starts to become more befitting as a vessel.

A vessel for what? No idea. I probably won't be drawing all those seams in any fanart comics of the series themselves - I imagine they get covered up when he's sent out into the world to interact with others in various SMPs - but I thought the idea was too cool not to draw at least once.

As a past winner, he gets his crown, and the burning eye of Mars by his name.

Mumbo:

Vampire Mumbo!

I know he doesn't have the grey streak in his life series skin but I love it too much I'm keeping it forever.

It makes him look so much more threatening and serious than he is.

Poor Mumbo. I was really rooting for you buddy. Better luck next series!

At least he still does damage with those End Crystals.

Pearl:

A lunar moth

As a winner, she gets her crown, and she gets her moon.

I'm not going to lie I want that lunar moth hoodie more than anything.

I had a lot of fun with Pearl: Her skin design is so simple (Well, maybe not this season, but usually) that it leaves so much room to interpret it. She's always going around with dogs, making her wolfish would've been really easy, but I think Moth suits her more.

There's a lot of mythology with moths being a little off kilter, mad, or leading people to madness that I think fits with Pearl's tendency to be a little bit of a loose canon, wild and unpredictable. Like a moth's flight patterns.

Red Hood Pearl had to put in an appearance here, especially with how it's sort of creeping to overtake her in Wild Life this season, and she just gets so earnestly threatening when she's on a red life despite still being all smiles and all laughs.

Unlike Gem or Cleo, I think there's an edge to Pearlie Pop on red that just reminds me of a horror monster, in the best, best, best way.

I haven't figured out heights but she's also the tallest.

[tibby-art]

what is the convexian hitman au?

To sum it up, Cub and Scar are hitmen that work for the local government, the NHO. Once human, the two made a pact with a mischievous fae entity called the Vex in exchange for power. They were once the most dangerous criminal duo in the city, until they were finally caught. They were given two options: work for the government as hitmen, or life in prison. The vex can make pacts that cannot be broken, so they have to do what the NHO says (but they find loopholes at every given opportunity).

The NHO was a group from hermitcraft season 5 and consists of Bdubs, Doc, Etho and Beef. It stands for the New hermit order and they manage city affairs and try to maintain peace (emphasis on try to).

Grian (who uses he/she pronouns in this au) is a university student studying architecture, and has a pretty normal life. That is until one day, when he comes in contact with an ancient artifact while out studying ancient architecture ruins. He gains the powers of a Watcher - eldritch beings so mysterious they were long considered to be a myth. She gains new sixth-sense abilities that are incredibly overwhelming. The NHO swoops in before Grian can hurt anyone or herself with her new powers, and takes Grian to their base, where he is studied by their best doctors and scientists for months.

The NHO deems Grian’s new abilities too powerful and unpredictable to allow him to return to society as a normal citizen, so Grian is also brought into hitmen work. Her new abilities- once she gains better control over them- can be used to help keep the city safe. Grian is handed off to the ConVex hitmen duo to be trained as a hitman abd to aid them on their missions.

There are more minor characters I’d like to introduce to the au as well! For example, Martyn is a youtuber and internet sleuth convinced that Watchers are real. No one really believes him, until Grian comes in contact with him, asking for any information about the Watchers…

I think my main inspiration behind the au was that Watcher!Grian is often depicted as this omniscient, all-knowing powerful demigod, and I thought it would be interesting to explore a Grian who has Watcher powers, but they’re brand new to him and he has no idea how to use them. Also I just like convexian as a trio lol

I want to make an organized masterpost eventually when I have time, but for now I try to keep everything in the #convexian hitman au tag! You can read a lot more about it there, there’s plenty of doodles, writing snippets and general yapping. Feel free to send asks about it :P

[nhlclover]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐊𝐈𝐃

madeleine chase x will smith

will goes on a podcast and reveals to the world his gushing crush on pop star, madeleine chase (wc; 1.11k)

༉‧₊˚. ꒰ notes! ꒱ this is lowkey inspired by how tate mcrae and cole sillinger first got together + what will said in a podcast about tate mcrae (literally every man is obsessed with her and so am i)

au masterlist

It had been about a week since Will had moved to San Jose and he was… settling. California was very different from Massachusetts and everything was new. From the weather to the people, everything was unfamiliar to Will. His teammates — another new thing Will was getting used to — had been nothing but welcoming. They had been showing him around the area and making sure he was settling in well—especially the Marleau family who were taking him in for his first year in San Jose.

He appreciated their efforts, even though the move was still overwhelming at times. The sunny, warm weather of California was a stark contrast to the often chilly and unpredictable climate of Massachusetts, and it was both a blessing and a challenge to adapt to. The culture here was more laid-back, and people seemed to carry an air of casualness that Will wasn’t entirely accustomed to.

In the midst of all these changes, he was dealing with the start of the hockey season, which brought on a lot of commitments. Despite today being a rest day from all of the beginning of the season media, Will was sitting in the Empty Netters podcast studio. Will had met Dan and Chris, the two hosts, a while back, promising them he’d come on when he got signed by the Sharks. Months later, Will was fulfilling his promise.

“Alright, Will, welcome to the Empty Netters pod! Glad to have you here,” said Chris.

“Thank you for having me,” Will said, smiling politely.

“So, you've been in San Jose for what—about two weeks? How’s the transition going? It’s gotta be a change from Massachusetts." Dan asked.

Will nodded, leaning into the mic a bit. “Yeah, about that but it feels like longer with everything going on. It’s been go, go, go since I got here but California’s great. And everyone’s been super welcoming, especially the Marleau family. They’ve really helped me get settled.”

Dan grinned. “Yeah, you got blessed with your living situation for your first year. I mean Patrick Marleau is a legend.”

“Not bad at all,” Will chuckled, relaxing a little. “They’ve been great. Showing me around, and introducing me to some good spots to eat. I’m trying to figure out the whole California lifestyle.”

The conversation flowed easily as they touched on his early career, what he was looking forward to with the Sharks and a few lighter topics.

“Okay, Will, to end this interview we just want to do some rapid-fire questions, alright? So these are just random.” Chris asked.

“Yeah, ok, sounds good,” Will replied.

“Great, first question,” Chris said, glancing at his notes. “What's your favorite movie?”

Will thought for a moment, debating between the movies he loved. “I'd have to say 'Good Will Hunting'. It's a classic and, well, it's set in Boston. Reminds me of home.”

Both Dan and Chris nodded appreciatively. “Nice choice,” Dan answered. “Alright, next up: what's your go-to comfort food?”

“Probably a good lobster roll,” Will replied instantly. “It's practically a staple back home.”

“A lobster roll from Cape Cod sounds fucking delicious.” Chris agreed.

“Alright, final question,” Dan says. “Who is your celebrity crush?”

“Madeleine Chase,” Will says without hesitation.

Both Dan and Chris burst into laughter at Will’s quick answer, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he realizes his eagerness. “Damn, you were ready for that question,” Chris says through laughter. “Can you expand on why she is your celebrity crush?”

Will chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I mean, first of all, she’s gorgeous. I keep seeing photos of her performing for Taylor Swift in Europe and… whew.” Will answers, getting another chorus of laughter from the podcast hosts. “But also there’s something about her vibe. She seems really down-to-earth and genuine. I’ve seen her in interviews and she’s got a great sense of humor.”

Dan grinned. “Sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Yeah, maybe a bit,” Will admitted, laughing. “But, you know, it’s hard not to admire someone like that. She’s got the whole package.”

“Quick, favorite song of hers?” Chris asked.

Will didn’t have to think much before answering. “Close To You. It’s just such a fun song to listen to.”

“If you have a message for Madeleine that we might be able to get to her at some point, what would it be?” Dan asked.

Will chuckled, questioning if he really wanted to it all out bare on this podcast. “Answer my DM,” he said, confidence lacing his tone.

“No way you’ve DM’ed her.” Chris laughed.

Will simply shrugged, laughing along with the two brothers. Dan leaned in with mock seriousness. "Alright, Sharks fans, you heard it here first—Will Smith’s got game both on and off the ice."

As the podcast wrapped up, Will thanked Chris and Dan, and they walked him out. His agent was waiting, jumping straight into talking about his schedule, but Will wasn't really listening. He was still stuck replaying the last part of the interview in his head.

Did I really just say that? His mind replayed the last part of the interview—talking about Madeleine Chase with no filter, like some lovestruck kid. He cringed inwardly, imagining how it must have sounded to anyone listening. He could already hear the ribbing from his teammates once this went live, and he cringed. His agent's voice was just white noise now as Will’s thoughts spiraled, imagining the potential fallout.

Answer my DM. The words bounced around his head like an unwelcome reminder of how he’d opened himself up for a joke. What if she actually did hear it? He wasn’t sure what compelled him to be so bold, especially considering they didn’t know each other. Will had always been reserved, especially in public settings, and now he felt like he'd let his guard down too much.

“Will? You listening?” his agent said, snapping him out of his daze.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Will replied quickly, though he wasn’t. He pulled out his phone, hovering over the podcast's social media page. Maybe I can ask them to cut that part out… no, that’s ridiculous. It’s too late. He forced himself to put his phone away, trying to focus on anything else but the possibility of his comment blowing up online.

Will sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to shake off the doubt. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. They laughed, so it couldn’t have been too cringey… right?

Still, the uncertainty weighed on him. California was supposed to be a fresh start, but at that moment, Will couldn’t help but feel like he’d already stumbled out of the gate.

[honeygrahambitch]

When Will gives that lecture on Hobbs' copycat, he says the copycat will never kill like that again. And what Hannibal does next after listening to the lecture, is killing Marissa exactly the same way he killed Cassie Boyle. I find it funny that he might have been like "Are you sure about that?" Because in fact Will was right. And Hannibal knew of course that Will was right, he wasn't going to use the same design but after Will specifically said that he won't kill like that again, he felt the need to contradict him, maybe in a teasing way, like "looks like I just killed like that again, what are you going to do about it?"

Anyway I wanted in fact to parallel this scene with the one from season 2 where Hannibal is like "With all my knowledge and intrusion I could never entirely predict you." Cause he couldn't correctly predict Will's actions all the time either.

This is exactly what happened in season one. Will could not predict Hannibal's next step. And they indeed were never able to tell "oh he will 100% do this now" about the other. There was always room for the unexpected. For example when Hannibal sent Will to Tobias. Or when Will sent Matthew to Hannibal. Or Mizumono itself is the most unpredictable occurrence cause neither of them had any idea about what the other would do. Even more so in twotl.

So I find it really beautiful that they could see each other for what they really were but they had a hard time predicting each other's actions.

[varilien]

ive been wanting to do some redraws of the gravity falls art i made as a kid n since it's seasonally appropriate, here's some magician au doodles ^^

and just in case i don't come back to draw it again any time soon here's my thoughts so far on the topic and the original art circa smn like. idk maybe 2015 or 2016?? i wish i'd put the date on anything from back then lol

Palestine: Funds | Action | eSims | Info

Sudan Resources | Congo Resource | Lebanese Red Cross

i might change the designs later on but at this point i thought it'd be most fun to just kinda leave it really close to the originals :3

anyways!!

okay so gravity falls magician au. plotwise it's all actually about the same, the twins might be a little older actually, like 15 or 16 (maybe they've visited gravity falls in the past?), but whatever. they get sent to a sleepy little village in the woods to stay w their great uncle. magic runs in the pines family, although no currently living pines is thought to have any notable capability. healing a scratch or finding something u lost under ur bed, basically. magic is actually probably a lot more common and mundane in this world than canon, so gravity falls' weirdness as a region comes more from the intensity and unpredictable nature of the magic found there

anyways the BIGGEST plot difference is that i like the idea of the kids meeting bill pretty early on. he introduces himself as a seasoned familiar looking to get back in touch with his old partner. now, bill is a breath of fresh air for dipper in particular, who finally has someone he can speak frankly with about the weird experiences he's been having, but even tho bill loves nothing more than spilling secrets and arcane knowledge, he's not really able to do so as he'd like to. he's got TONS of spells placed on him for the express purpose of keeping him quiet, but there's a few things bill has been able to elude to if nothing else: 1, he knows who the author of the grimoire dipper found in the woods is. 2, he knows stan pines' great secret. and 3, he knows how to access magical power beyond comprehension

hehe idk i just like the idea of bill spending possibly months mentoring and making friends w the kids fully planning on just using them for his own gain the entire time but. well. maybe it's nice not being alone anymore too. tho he'd never admit it

[devsblurbs]

I would like to request 🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️ (bellamy x reader)

Okay, hear me out. Best friends to lovers..I’m thinking something along the lines of either the reader gets hurt or Bell gets jealous somehow and it ends in smut ✨

Not picky ab plot or what season (prolly 1-4 tho ngl) but just those tropes pretty please 🩷

Jealousy, Jealousy—B. Blake

A/n: I love this idea yes yes yes, Bellamy getting jealous and finally having enough and just snapping and giving in to what he really wants? Yes please.

Summary - Bellamy and reader have been best friends since coming to the ground, and for a while that was enough for him. Until she starts hanging around Murphy a little too much, he gets jealous and finally snaps.

Warnings - 18+ MDNI , smut , unprotected sex , strong language , choking , cowgirl , use of praise , degrading

Word count - 5.5k

Bellamy Blake should’ve lost his mind a long time ago, from the moment he’d arrived on the ground he’d been met with one hardship after another. Constantly dealing with a battle in his mind against what was right, or what was wrong. The responsibilities he held should’ve crushed him, but they didn’t, because of her.

Y/n, she’d been the steady hand, the voice of reason, the one who kept his mind held together when the chaos of survival threatened to tear him apart. She was his anchor, keeping him grounded when he needed it most. She was never afraid of speaking her mind to him, keeping him in check, steering him on the right path, always assuring him he was doing his best. She was the one person who could keep up with his plans, challenge him when needed, and still make him laugh after a long day.

In return, Bellamy was the reason she felt safe. She found comfort in knowing he was around, she knew if it came to it he’d do whatever he could to protect her. It wasn’t a one sided thing, they were both there for each other however they could be. They weren’t just best friends, they were two halves of the same whole.

While he carried the weight of leadership and responsibility, she carried light–a warmth that reminded him why survival mattered at all. They had built a life together on this unpredictable earth, keeping each other grounded as they navigated its relentless dangers of the unseen terrain before them.

They were always together, and neither of them would have it any other way. Their friendship was an unbreakable bond, so strong not even the toughest of knives could splice it. They shared everything with each other– Meals, secrets they dare not tell anyone else, long late night conversations by the fire just relishing in each other's company. He trusted her in a way that he gave to no one else, just her. She was his rock, his person, the one he could count on no matter what happened. For a long time, that was enough.

But then came Murphy.

He had always been a huge thorn in Bellamy’s side– Sarcastic, selfish, and unpredictable. Murphy always found a way to cause some sort of problem that Bellamy would have to remedy, and he only ever thought of himself when making decisions.

When Murphy started spending more time around, Y/n, Bellamy simply brushed it off. She was kind to everyone, even to people who didn’t deserve it, it’s just who she was as a person. That was one of things he had always admired about her, and who was he to stop her from making friends?

But aside from all that, he couldn’t help the way his stomach churned when he saw them together. He began noticing every little subtle thing, the way she laughed a little louder when Murphy was around, the way they stood too close for comfort, their heads bent together in whispered conversations, and the way her smile would linger just a fraction of a second too long while looking at him for Bellamy’s liking.

He was supposed to be the one making her smile like that, not him. He hated the way they were with each other, always laughing as if they knew something no one else did. Constantly going off with each other for hours at a time, to scout or collect supplies. Why didn’t she just ask him? Why did it have to be Murphy, it made his blood boil. The more these little interactions happened the harder it got for him to keep his mouth shut, he’d just watch from a distance, a scowl painting his freckled face as he kept his jaw clenched shut.

Tonight was no different.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, the camp was alive with the distant hum of chatter, the crackling of the evening fire, and the rhythmic clinking of tools as the last of the day's chores wrapped up. Bellamy leaned against a makeshift table, his dark brown eyes scanning the camp for her–Y/n. She was late, something that had become a regular occurrence over the past few days, she would come back late, with Murphy, which he assumed would be the case tonight.

Sure enough, his gaze locked on her familiar silhouette near the supply tent. Her laughter rang out, soft and melodic, a sound that usually brought him peace. But right now in this very moment, it grated his nerves, that laugh was meant for his ears and his ears alone. Murphy stood beside her, his trademark smirk plastered across his face as he said something that made her throw her head back in laughter.

His jaw tightened, his fists clenching around the corners of the table. He didn’t know why her being with him angered him so much, or why it made him so jealous, but he couldn’t stop the rage that bubbled up inside of him. She was his person, they’d been through everything together–landing on the ground, fighting to survive, building this new fragile life, defending him when no one else would. She was the one person who knew him better than anyone else, one that could see past his rough, commanding facade to the man beneath. And now, she was spending all her freetime with Murphy?

“Hey, you good?” Raven spoke out, he was a bit startled at first, so lost in his jealous thoughts he hadn’t even noticed her approaching him.

“Fine.” He muttered, his gaze still locked onto Y/n and Murphy, afraid that if he’d look away something would happen.

Raven followed his line of sight, and smirked at him almost as if she knew something he didn’t. “Uh-huh, sure.. You look like you’re about to rip his throat out.”

She could clearly tell why Bellamy was upset, even if he was too naive to realize it himself. Anyone with a brain could see the way he pined after her, but his mind was too stubborn and clouded to realize it, he was simply just stuck in a jealous haze.

He simply grunted, pushing off the table to get away from Raven, he wasn’t in the mood. Before he could even think, he was striding over to the supply tent where the two were standing. There was just something in the air tonight, something strong, he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer.

Y/n noticed him first, her eyes lighting up in a way that always made his chest tighten. “Bells!” She waved at him, “Where've you been? Murphy and I were just–”

“I see that,” He interrupted, his voice sharp. His eyes flickered towards Murphy, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Her smile faltered, clearly confused at where this sudden attitude had come from, to her knowledge she hadn’t done anything wrong. But the jealousy that clouded his mind told him otherwise.

“What’s your problem?” She asked skeptically, wanting to know why he was so upset.

“My problem?” He finally snapped, stepping closer, finally not able to hold back how he’d been feeling, “My problem is you spending all your time with him.” He gestured to Murphy, who let out a low whistle.

“Well, this just got interesting. I’ll leave you two to sort out whatever this is.” With a mock salute, he sauntered away, not wanting to get involved in whatever heated argument that was to follow.

Y/n and Bellamy stood there, a tense silence covering the air around them.She crossed her arms, her expression sifting from confusion to annoyance. “What the hell, Bellamy? What’s your deal?”

“My deal? He’s not exactly the most trustworthy person to be hanging around.” He said, truth be told though even if he was, he’d probably still be just as pissed.

She simply rolled her eyes, “Oh come on, he’s trying. You of all people should understand that people can change.”

“That’s not the goddamn point!” He barked.

“Then what is?” She shot back, her voice rising, “Because from where I’m standing, it just looks like you're pissed I’m spending time with someone else, you can’t expect me to spend all my time with you!”

He froze, the words hit him like a punch to the gut, settling uneasily into his stomach. She wasn’t wrong, but he couldn’t admit that–not to her, not to himself. But deep down, he wanted to snap out that she was his girl, not Murphy’s. He wanted her to spend all her time with him and him alone, he wanted her to himself.

He didn’t say anything else, his chest heaved, his emotions teetering on a razor’s edge as he stared at her. Her words echoing in his head, his fists clenched, the raw swirl of jealousy and fear consuming him like a raging out of control fire. Without thinking, without weighing the consequences, something inside of him snapped.

He reached for her, grabbing her arm tightly with one singular fluid motion.

“Bellamy–” She began, but her words were cut short as he pulled her towards his tent with determined strides. His grip was tight, but not enough to hurt her, though the intensity and fire in his eyes was enough to send a shock through her.

“What are you doing?” She practically demanded, her voice tinged with confusion, and touch of anger still blistering within her, but he didn’t answer.

He shoved open the flap of his tent, yanking her inside, before releasing her wrist. For a moment, there was silence, the kind that was thick and suffocating, weighing both of them down heavily.

“Bells, talk to me,” She tried again, her voice slightly softer now, almost pleading. But instead of talking, he closed the space between them, in a single step, his dark eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch in her throat.

His voice of reason went out of the window, he didn’t care about anything anymore, not what would happen after this, not about Murphy, he just wanted her. His lips crashed onto hers, it wasn’t gentle, nor hesitant. It was raw, unrestrained, and desperate, as if he’d been holding himself back for far too long. His hands framed her face, his fingers threading into her hair as he poured every ounce of frustration, jealousy, and something deeper- something terrifying real, some unspoken emotion he’d been hiding away–into that kiss.

She froze, her mind reeling. This was Bellamy, her best friend, the person she trusted more than anyone, and he was kissing her. Her mind ran wild with thoughts, was this why he had been so jealous?

She felt the tension in his grip, the way his body seemed to hold hers as if to say, ‘You’re mind.’ It wasn’t just passion– there was a hint of fear there too, a fear of losing her, of being left behind. Slowly her hands trailed up his chest, not to push him away, but to steady herself as her lips met his slowly beginning to show the same yearning back.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, forehead resting against hers as he struggled to find the right words. The kiss had conveyed all the emotions his voice never could, and now he struggled to get them out.

“I can’t do this anymore,” He murmured, his voice hoarse, “I can’t stand watching you with him, Y/n. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with it.”

Her eyes stared up into his, “Bellamy..”

“I know I’m being selfish,” He continued, “But I don’t give a fuck anymore, I can’t keep trying to tell myself that I don’t want you all to myself.”

She swallowed at that, her heart beat picking up as he spoke to her, his voice raw with emotion. His hand was on her hip, his grip possessively screaming that she was his, and he looked down at her with a type of fire that had her stomach doing somersaults. Her mind was racing, her heart pounding her chest so hard she was certain he could hear it. The intensity of his words, the raw emotion in his voice, and the lingering taste of his lips on hers had shattered the delicate walls built between them. She had told herself for so long that they were just friends, trying so hard to convince herself of that. She had no idea until now that he was in turn doing the same thing, they both yearned for each other deep down but locked it away.

“Bell,” She whispered, her voice soft, and smooth.

His hand still possessively held her hip, as his other came up to hold her face in a way that sent shivers down her spine. His eyes searched hers, waiting for her to speak, waiting for her to say something, anything.

But words didn’t come out of her throat, instead she surged forward, closing the distance between them once more. Her lips met his in another kiss, this one more heated than the last. It was rough, and passionate–a release of all the pent up emotions the two had. Her hands clutched his shirt, gripping it tightly, almost afraid that if she were to let go he’d disappear.

He was stunned by her sudden move for a moment, before a low guttural sound escaped his lips. His arms wrapped around her tightly, pulling her against her as closely as he could, anchoring her to him as though she might slip away.

She pressed closer to him, her body molding into hers like a puzzle piece, her heart racing as she poured everything she couldn’t say into the kiss. Every stolen glance, every moment she had pretended to not care for him like this–it was all there, laid out bare within the kiss.

When they finally broke apart for the second time, both of them were breathing hard, foreheads resting against each other, the air thick with the tension and heat between them.

“Y/n..” He rasped, his voice low and unsteady.

She looked up at him, her eyes blazing with emotion, “You’re not the only one who’s been bottling up emotions.” She finally admitted, the words leaving her lips almost lifted a weight off her shoulders that she didn’t know was there.

His hands cupped her face once more, the pad of his thumb brushing against her now swollen bottom lip, a type of heat stirring inside of her stomach as he did this, “And now?”

“I don’t care anymore, I’m tired of pretending, tired of holding back..I want this Bell, I want you.” Her voice soft, like a melody to his ears.

His breath hitched, the tension around them electric, all of their feelings laid out in the open now. Unspoken hunger aired out around them that neither of them could deny any longer. Her hands lingered on his chest, her fingers tracing lines of his muscles through his shirt, igniting his skin with sparks. She felt his heartbeat–strong, steady, and quick beneath her slander fingertips.

He lightly gripped her chin, leaning in, his lips captured hers again in another deep feverish kiss. She melted into him, her hands sliding up to tangle into his messy curls, pulling him closer as the kiss grew more desperate.

Without breaking their lips apart, his hands slid to her waist, his strong grip lifting her effortlessly. She gasped softly against his lips as he guided her onto his lap, her legs straddling him as he settled her against him on the small bed.

Her breath hitched as her knees sank down into the bed on either side of him, feeling him through his jeans against her. His hands found her hips, gripping them roughly, holding her down onto him. His lips found hers again, more urgent this time, one of his hands sliding up the small of her back, and under her shirt onto her bare skin, causing a shiver to radiate through her body. The other slid into her hair, tilting her head back slightly to deepen the kiss, his fingers digging into her like he couldn’t get enough of her.

She let out a small moan, the sound muffled against his lips, and he groaned back in response, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. The world outside the tent faded away, the jealousy faded away, all that mattered was he had her in his lap now, she was all his.

His lips left hers to trail along her jawline, pressing hot, open-mouthed kissing down the column her neck. She tilted her head back, her fingers tightening in his fair as his lips found the sensitive spot just below her ear, drawing soft whines from her lips.

“Bell,” She whispered, a slight tremble in her breathless voice.

He pulled back a bit, his dark eyes meeting hers, blazing with a lustful fire. “Say it again,” He murmured, his voice like a low growl, laced with a possessiveness that had her knees going weak.

“Bell.” She repeated, in a small whimper, her cheeks flushed.

His hands slid down to her hips, gripping them tightly, the fire between them growing hotter. It consumed every lingering doubt, and every ounce of hesitation.

His hands moved, sliding them under her shirt, feeling the warmth of her soft skin on his calloused fingers. Her breath hitched at the contact, her body arching into him instinctively. His lips found her neck again, trailing soft kisses and bites down her collar bone.

His hands gripped the hem of her shirt, tugging it upward in one swift motion. She lifted her arms up, letting him pull it off fully. He tossed it aside without a second thought, his eyesing trailing up and down her bare torso. The way he looked at her–hungry, reverent, possessive–made her heart race, a fierce pool of heat pooling in her stomach.

“You’re so beautiful,” He murmured against her neck, his breath hot against her skin.

Her lips parted to respond, but before she could speak, his hands gripped her waist again, pulling her close as his lips crashed against hers again. The kiss was desperate, fierce, as if trying to claim her completely as his.

His lips left hers, trailing down her jawline, her neck, her shoulders, and in between her breasts. He kissed every inch of skin that he could reach, his teeth grazing against her occasionally, leaving small marks to stake his claim. Her head was tilted back, soft moans leaving her lips relishing in the pleasure that just his lips left her with.

“You’re mine,” He growled against her chest, his voice low and fierce. His hands tightened around her, holding her as if he never wanted to let her go.

Her breath caught in her throat at his words, the intensity of his voice sending a thrill through her. The way her chest heaved, and she stared at him with a type of need seemed to ignite something inside of him. His lips crashed against hers again with a new found urgency, his kisses were demanding, rough, leaving her breathless in his arms.

She felt his hands exploring her body, tracing the curve of her waist, down the line of her spine. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she matched his passion, her own desire overwhelming her.

His lips left hers to trail hot kisses down her chest, his hands going up to knead her breasts in between his fingers.Each touch of his lips sent a shiver up her spine, and she could feel the tension in his body, the sheer force of his restraint as tried to hold himself back.

“Bell..” His name left her lips again, a soft whine, almost like a prayer, her voice barely audible.

He pulled back a little, his hands framing her face as he stared into her eyes, a sheer dark force of lust behind them, “Tell me you’re mine, love.” He demanded, his voice low, and commanding. He wasn’t asking her, he was telling her.

“ ‘m yours, always.” Her gaze met his with half lidded eyes as she spoke.

He bit his lip, hearing her say that she was setting off something almost primal within him. A low growl caught in his throat, as his fingers gripped her and held her close on his lap. She in turn reached for his shirt, her fingers gripping the fabric tightly. She tugged at it, her breath catching her throat as he pulled back just enough to help her. In one motion, he threw it off, revealing the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders.

Her gaze lingered, taking in every detail–the taut muscles, the faint scars etched into his skin, and the way his chest rose and fell with every heavy breath. Tentatively, her fingers traced down from his chest, to his shoulders, right to his defined v-line just for a moment, before going back up to rest on his chest.

His eyes burned into hers, his lips quirking into a small, almost smug smile at her touch. “Like what you see, princess?” He teased, his voice a low rumble.

She rolled her eyes playfully, humming a yes, fingers trailing over his skin as she did so. He smirked, leaning in to capture her lips again, but this time his hands moved up, brushing her sides before settling on her chest. Taking her nipples in between his fingers, and toying with them. She couldn’t stop the breathy sound that escaped her lips, or the way her hips instinctively ground against his needily.

He pulled away from the kiss, groaning softly, his fingers gripping her softly from the friction of her hips. He chuckled low in his throat, the sound deep and teasing.

“So sensitive.” He mumbled, clearly amused.

She didn’t have time to respond before he shifted his grip, hands sliding to grab her hips. With a deliberate slowness, he guided her movements, pressing her down against his hard on. The friction caused another gasp from her, and a low moan to come from his throat.

“Fuck–” She cursed under her breath, the feeling of him grinding against her was driving her mad, it was slow and teasing. Giving her a little bit of pleasure, but not truly giving her what she wanted or rather what she needed.

He grinned, his hands tightening against her hips, pushing her down against him a little more. His eyes sparkling mischievously as she seemed to get a bit frustrated, “What’s the matter hm? Someones a little worked up.”

She let out a soft whine, trying to move against him more, but his firm grip prevented her from doing so. She was getting needy, and impatient, “Quit teasing.”

He chuckled again, rolling his hips against hers a bit, “But where's the fun in that?”

She huffed out, her eyes meeting his in a silent plea.

“Tell me what you want.” He leaned in whispering into her ear, his voice low and gravely in her ear.

She swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing even deeper, “You.. I want you, please Bell.” She pleaded with him, her chest heaving.

His smirk only grew darker as her breathless pleas filled the air, the way her voice trembled, the way she was all needy for him. “That’s all I needed to hear,” He murmured, satisfied with her begging.

With one last lingering kiss, he gently shifted her off his lap, his hands sliding down her sides as he did. She whimpered softly at the loss of contact, her hands instinctively reaching for him. But he only smirked, standing to his full height as he looked down at her, the dim candle light casting shadows across his broad, muscular frame.

Her lips went to open to say something, but the words caught in her throat as he reached for the button of his jeans. He popped it open, dragging down the zipper slowly, teasingly, his eyes never leaving hers. She swallowed, her heart pounding as she watched him push the fabric down his hips, tossing them to the side.

He stood there for a moment, letting her take him in, his toned body practically glowing in the soft light. Her gaze swept over him, her breathing erratic, her cheeks painted a deep shade of red.

“Someone's drooling over there,” He teased, “Practically over there eye fucking me.” A low chuckle left his lips, clearly amused with the way she stared at him like he was some kind of Greek god.

She rolled her eyes despite her obvious flustered state, but she just couldn’t tear her eyes away from this god-like man in front of him. The way sweat dripped down his toned chest, the way his hard length was right in front of her, “You’re insufferable.” She muttered playfully, her voice lacking any real heat.

He chuckled, his lips leaning down to capture hers in a quick but heated kiss, “And you’re staring.” He shot back, tone laced with amusement.

Before she could retort, his hands moved down to the waistband of her pants. His rough thick fingers brushing against her skin, pulling a soft whine from her lips as he hooked them under the fabric pulling them down, hands grazing her thighs as he did. He then tossed them to the side with the rest of their discarded clothes.

He straightened back up, taking his turn in looking her over. His eyes holding a mixture of hunger and reverence in them as he drank in her appearance, “So fuckin’ perfect.” He said softly, voice filled with awe.

He didn’t say anything else, climbing back onto the bed, he settled himself down. His arms reached out to guide her back onto his lap, his cock resting against her stomach, not giving it to her just yet. He could tell just how desperate she was, how needy she was for him. The way she clung to him, the quiet needy whimpers falling from her lips, the way her heavy-lidded eyes stared at his.

“You want my cock that bad hm?” He asked, his voice low and rough.

She whimpered in response, gripping his shoulders tightly, her chest heaving, her swollen lips parted slightly, her mind clouded over with need, and desperation.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk, “Tell me how bad you want this dick.” He mused, finger swiping over her bottom lip.

She flushed, her cheeks burning as she squirmed against him, desperate for him, “Want you so bad..” Her voice barely above a whisper.

“Not good enough,” He murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against her ear, “Beg for it, show me how badly you need me.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she hesitated, her pride waiting with the overwhelming desire to feel him inside of her. But with the way he was looking at her, the way his hands held down, the way his cock rested against her stomach so close to her but not inside of her was driving her insane.

“Please, Bell,” She broke, her voice trembling, “I need you, please–just fuck me please.” She stammered out.

He groaned softly, her words hitting him like a tidal wave. He leaned back, his dark eyes fixated onto hers, “That’s my good girl,” He said, his fingers sliding into her mouth. She took the hint, swirling her tongue around them, making popping sounds as he pulled them out.

“Such a needy slut for me aren’t you?” He mumbled, he had heard everything he needed to hear and he couldn't hold himself back anymore.

With a swift move, he lifted her hips up, sliding her down onto his cock slowly, bringing a sharp moan from her lips. The way he stretched her, and filled her already had her eyes rolling back. For a moment, he held her in place, making her savor it, savor him. But it didn’t last long, the way she was gripping him was driving him wild, gripping her hips she helped her start moving up and down at a slow steady pace.

“Gripping me so hard love, this pussys so greedy for me huh?” He mumbled, his head tilting back a little, a soft groan leaving her lips.

The slow pace didn’t last long though, his control snapping with the soft whimpers and whines that left her lips. The sight of her already completely undone even with the slow pace had him losing his mind, he did that to her, she was this much of a mess on his cock already.

His grip on her hips tightened, fingers digging into her skin as he pulled her down onto him sharply, roughly. Her hands holding onto his shoulders to steady herself as he drilled up into her, her head falling into the crook of his neck, unrestrained cries of his name falling from her lips.

“That feel good?” He growled, his voice low and possessive as he held her firmly, moving her hips up and down onto his cock, “You’re all fucking mine, princess. Every. Single. Part.”

Her fingers clung to his shoulders, her body trembling under his touch, her mind fogged over, she was a mess of moans and whines.

“This pussy? All fuckin’ mine, it was made for this cock.” He mumbled, thrusting up into her fiercely.

His eyes burned with an almost feral intensity as he watched her, completely intrapped with the way she looked bouncing up and down on his cock, the way her hair was a mess, the way her breasts bounced. He was completely lost in her, and she was lost in him.

“Say it,” He demanded, his hand going up to grip her throat roughly, “Tell me this pussy is mine.” His voice commanded as he snapped his hips into her roughly, making her cry out again.

“Fuck– all yours, pussys all yours!” She stammered out breathlessly.

His lips crashed against hers, silencing her cries, kissing her with such ferocity. One hand tangled into her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss, while the other stayed on her hips helping guide her movements with a roughness that left no doubts of her claim over her.

“You drive me insane,” He muttered against her lips, “No one else gets to touch you like this, you hear me? Just me.”

She nodded quickly, eyes squeezed shut as crores continued to spill from her lips, “Just–you.”

Her words sent a wave of satisfaction through him, and he groaned, burying his face into her neck, each motion of his hips drawing more and more cries from he lips. “That’s my girl,” He growled, “Taking me so well.”

Their bodies moved in perfect sync with each other, driven by an overwhelming need. His hands were everywhere–gripping, guiding, pulling her closer as she melted into him. Sweat dripped down their bodies, her breasts bouncing with every move.

Her breaths were shallow, each one coming out in a gasp or a sharp whine as she bounced her hips on him, desperate for more.Her fingers scratched at his skin, leaving red marks in their wake. Her legs trembled, and his movements got sloppier.

“I can’t–can’t hold on much longer.” She whined out, throwing her head back.

He kept snapping his hips into hers, “I’ve got you love.”

His hands held her, pulling her up and pushing her down as he rutted his hips up, panting, desperately chasing his own release.

“Wanna cum for me, pretty girl?” He whispered in his ear, his movements still at their relentless pace, “Go on, make a mess for me.”

She did, her eyes rolling back, sharp cries of his name falling from her lips like a prayer, as her whole body tightened and trembled against him. He wasn’t long after, groans falling from his lips, pulling out and shooting hot ropes of cum all over her stomach.

Both of them panting, foreheads pressed together as they collected themselves.

“You’re so beautiful..” He murmured, taking her disheveled appearance in. Purple bruises, swollen lips, messy hair, he claimed her in every way that he could.

She chuckled softly, her body still trembling a bit as he cleaned off her stomach. After he was done, he laid them both down onto the bed, his arm protectively wrapped around her.

“You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go anywhere.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, holding her head against his bare chest.

“All yours, though if getting you jealous means you’re gonna fuck me like this maybe I’ll have to do it more often.” She joked, and he only playfully rolled his eyes.

Things were different now, all of those unsaid emotions were out. There was no need for jealousy anymore, he made sure she knew that she was his and his alone.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

One thing I adore about Bad Batch is how well it balances presenting two (or more) perspectives while allowing us to understand why each side has that perspective.

Take, for example, one of the most tragic scenes in season 1, where my heart just breaks for Crosshair...

Come on, Bad Batch, Crosshair has just saved Omega. Even if it might have appeared at first that he was pointing his rifle in Hunter's face, it's now clear that wasn't his intention! Can y'all stop pointing your weapons at him??!? 💔💔💔

And yet... I can still understand and sympathize with where the rest of the squad is coming from.

Months prior, Crosshair had started acting a little bit... off, rambling on about being good soldiers and criticizing Hunter's every move (including the decision to not shoot civilians). Then, the squad was imprisoned; then, Crosshair was singled out; then, as the squad was going to get him, he found them and shot Wrecker and threatened the rest of them. And they had to flee.

Oh, there was talk about inhibitor chips influencing clone behavior, maybe even controlling it; but the squad had precious little information to go on.

And then Rex gives them more information and dire warnings, and they see firsthand the dangers of the chips when Wrecker (of all people) goes all murder rampage, and it's abundantly clear that this must be why Crosshair is acting the way he is.

And immediately thereafter, Crosshair finds them... and when Hunter attempts to talk him down (because now they really understand what's going on), Crosshair "aims for the kid" and then keeps them trapped in an ion engine with the intent of incinerating them.

... Well, Wrecker had just tried to kill them all too, so it's understandable why Crosshair is acting this way. Not exactly ideal - especially since he doesn't want to listen to them and he has Imperial backing - but understandable.

And eventually Crosshair succeeds in actually capturing them. And he goes on and on about being better than everyone else and the value of serving an Empire whose definition of "order" involves terror and subjugation. But hey, apparently he's not trying to kill them this time... Until Hunter says no to joining the Empire and Crosshair makes it clear he considers this to be traitor talk... But then Crosshair helps them defeat the droids, so Hunter tries again to talk to him about the inhibitor chip.

"Wrong," Crosshair says. "I had my chip removed. A long time ago."

Just look at the confusion on Hunter's face as he grapples with the implications:

And then we are granted Tech's and Wrecker's reactions, with Tech's being more apparent since we can see his eyes - the shocked surprise followed by the eyebrow furrowing that reads to me as Tech trying to fit this revelation into his understanding of Crosshair's behavior:

(Remembering, of course, that Tech was the first to bring up the possibility of the chip influencing Crosshair's actions.)

"Since when?" Hunter continues in shock.

"Does it matter?" Crosshair shrugs.

"YES," Hunter insists.

"This is who I am," Crosshair responds.

And then Crosshair pulls his rifle (which we know isn't set to stun) on Hunter.

For months, Crosshair's brothers had been giving him the benefit of the doubt even as he repeatedly and deliberately endangered them; but now, he leaves them to wonder - Was Crosshair acting of his own volition when he shot Wrecker and tried to lure the others out that fateful night on Kamino? Was it his own choice to try to roast them to ash on Bracca? Was the chip involved or not when he chased them down as they were trying to leave Bracca?

He apparently doesn't have the chip now, and yet he's gone from holding them hostage to fighting alongside them against the droids to threatening Hunter again, all in the space of about 5 minutes.

And he insists that "This is who I am."

Crosshair is behaving dangerously, violently, and unpredictably, and he's said that he considers them to be his enemies since they won't join the Empire. And he keeps arguing with them every step of the way as they set out to escape an orbital bombardment.

Is it any wonder, then, that his brothers don't trust him holding a weapon, even when he's saved Omega's life?

[toobusybeingdelulu]

The thing I love most about Billy Hargrove is his unpredictability, in a show where we can see every other character’s moves from MILES away. Even those who had the potential to be the most interesting are either side-lined, ignored or return to old patterns (see Johnatan, Will or Steve). Also, they all have one thing in common, even El: they all want to be good. To do good. To be heroes. And I would not find anything wrong with that, if it only weren’t for the predictability of it all.

We see Steve Harrington with the kids in a dangerous situation. What do we assume? That he is gonna throw himself in danger for them, because it’s what he has always done.

We see Nancy Wheeler on the battle field? Then there is a 100% chance she is gonna shoot at something.

Will Byers? He is gonna protect his friends, just like the rest of the party.

Jim hopper? Joyce Byers? Yeah. Same thing.

Billy Hargrove, tho? Jesus. He is introduced to this metal badass song, then the next minute he is taunting Steve Harrington, but not really because here he is, actually giving him good advice and- yeah no, he pushed him onto the ground again. But wait, wait! He actually told him not to worry about the break up because he could basically have anyone he wanted with a face like that… aaaand yeah, he is back to being an ass.

We see him not giving a crap about his sister, yet later he is asking her if a boy has been bothering her. Then he grabs her wrist and tells her very hurtful things, yet he still tries to make it sound like a lesson. Like he had been that road before himself, many times.

We see him being stone cold, with an absent look in his eyes when he is with other people. Then we watch him dancing in his room and smiling as he gets ready for a date, and later we see him crying for the first time ever after being hit by his father. While watching the first minutes of that scene, I did not expect that to happen in the slightest.

We see him fake his concern for max to mrs. wheeler in order to get information, only to watch him refer to her as his sister when he realizes that Steve Harrington might have done something to her.

We have literally seen him trying to scare Max by driving at an ungodly speed, almost running her friends over, and almost killing Steve in a fit of rage, and then in the next season he is using every inch of his strength to protect a girl he didn’t even know from the Mind Flayer. I don’t know y’all, but I did NOT see all of that coming.

And do you know who, after his death, becomes the most interesting ST character among the protagonists? Max. We see a crack in her armour of perfection, thanks to her rocky relationship with Billy: because she had wished him to die, sometimes. I loved that twist, because FOR ONCE I had a feeling that a character among the mains was deeply flawed and human. This is why billy was needed for longer in this story.

He forced the other characters to face their darkest side, their egotistical desires. Steve Harrington enjoyed violence, deep down. He was the one to start the fight, after all. And Billy had forced him to meet that side of himself again.

Max was so fed up with him that she had dreamed about his death sometimes, even tho we all know now that she didn’t mean it.

Karen Wheeler lusted after a boy her daughter’s age, only to be met with shame when she saw her husband and daughter asleep on the couch.

Honestly, all of this to say that Stranger Things can keep its perfect ‘didn’t-do-anything-wrong-aver’ characters, because honestly? I watch tv series to be entertained and surprised, and since Billy died he also took the dynamism of the series with him.

[misshoneyimhome]

Can you do a pregnancy scare for inexperienced reader X Willy Nylander ?

Of course, I can babe 🤗🌺

Tropes & Warnings: inexperienced!reader x Willy, pregnancy scare, alcohol consumption, soft boyfriend!Willy

Word count: 1.9K

➼｡ﾟ

The hockey season was just around the corner, and everything seemed to be falling back into its usual rhythm. You were back at work, and William was deep into his training, juggling media obligations and preparing for the upcoming NHL documentary. Life felt busy but comfortably ordinary. However, there was one thing that wasn’t within the ordinary—your period.

At first, you tried to brush off the worry. With an IUD, your cycles had always been a bit unpredictable. Sometimes you’d have a light period, and other times, nothing at all. It wasn’t unusual, so you didn’t let it bother you. But as the days turned into weeks and another month passed with no sign of your period, the worry became harder to ignore.

Your mood swings worsened, your cravings grew stronger, and your temper became short. You didn’t even recognise yourself some mornings, struggling to get out of bed. Exhaustion became your constant companion, and when even the thought of walking the dogs felt overwhelming, you knew something was off.

But it couldn’t be.

You were careful, using protection, but the nagging thought that birth control isn’t 100% effective kept gnawing at you. You and William had been more than just active—your sex life was an integral part of your relationship. Whether it was gentle nights where he’d take his time, fingering you before entering you to ensure you both reached a climax, or the spontaneous moments on the sofa where you’d give him a mind-blowing blowjob before riding him to ecstasy, your chemistry was undeniable. There were also those passionate mornings where he’d lift you onto the dining table, enjoying the sweetness of your juices before watching your every move as he thrust into you with an intensity that left you both breathless. Even quickies in the car weren’t off the table, the thrill of getting caught only adding to the excitement as your breaths fogged the windows.

But with all that sex, there was always a risk. You knew that, and yet, you trusted the IUD to protect you. That’s why, when you realised your period was late—really late—you tried to reassure yourself that everything was fine. Still, doubt nagged at you, and eventually, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

One evening, while William was out, you finally mustered the courage to take a test. Your heart pounded as you waited, watching the seconds tick by on your phone. When those two small blue lines appeared, signalling you were pregnant, your world seemed to tilt.

“Fuck,” you whispered, staring at the result in disbelief. Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts—how could this happen? You were on birth control.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to William yet; he was already dealing with the pressure of the upcoming season and the media circus that followed him everywhere. And you didn’t want to add more stress, especially not when you were still trying to process the possibility yourself.

Yet, not knowing what else to do, you called Sanna, the one person you knew you could trust. As a mother herself and someone who’d been with you through your relationship with William, she listened patiently as you poured out your fears and anxieties. Her calm voice was a balm to your frayed nerves, as she suggested that it might be a false positive—something that could happen. She convinced you to take another test, maybe even a few more, just to be sure.

But before you had a chance to act on her advice, the situation escalated in the most unexpected way.

It was supposed to be just another casual night out, a rare chance for you to relax and spend time with William and some of his Swedish teammates before the season kicked into full gear. The group had decided to keep things low-key, gathering at a trendy but cosy bar in downtown Toronto. The atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and conversation, but you could barely focus on anything being said. Your mind was still reeling from the test you'd taken the day before, the faint blue lines that had turned your world upside down.

You still hadn’t told William, and every time you caught a glimpse of his carefree smile or heard his infectious laugh, a wave of guilt and anxiety would wash over you. How could you drop this bombshell on him now, just when everything seemed to be going so well?

The conversation among the group had drifted to lighter topics—upcoming games, vacation memories, the usual banter that you normally found comforting. But tonight, you felt like an outsider in your own body, barely able to engage as your thoughts swirled with the weight of your secret.

And then, it happened.

Calle, always the joker of the group, was mid-story, laughing as he recounted how their close friend David Pastrňák had not only tied the knot in a grand wedding this offseason but had also just welcomed a baby. And with a teasing grin, he added, “Seems like everyone’s catching baby fever these days. Who knows, maybe Willy’s next in line for some new adventures, eh?”

The words hit like a thunderclap. The laughter around the table died abruptly, leaving a thick, uncomfortable silence in its wake.

Only Sanna knew your secret—how your period was late, how you'd taken a test, and how the result had thrown your world into chaos. But now, with Calle’s offhand remark and your refusal to drink hard liquor—something that hadn’t gone unnoticed despite your excuse of a light headache—there was no more hiding.

You felt the blood drain from your face, your heart pounding so loudly you were certain everyone could hear it. Panic gripped you, your mind racing to find a way to defuse the situation, to explain the tension that was now painfully obvious. But the words stuck in your throat, refusing to come.

Meanwhile William’s eyes were on you, full of unspoken questions. The room, once filled with lighthearted chatter, now felt suffocatingly silent, as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for what would happen next.

And when you finally mustered the courage to meet his eyes, the mixture of shock and concern in his expression was unmistakable. His easygoing smile had vanished, replaced by a furrowed brow and a tightness in his jaw that you’d rarely seen before. The realisation was there, clear as day. William wasn’t just piecing together the joke—he was piecing together the truth.

You could see it in the way his eyes searched yours, silently pleading for an explanation. This wasn’t like the minor pregnancy scare from months ago, when a false alarm had been met with nervous laughter and relief. This felt real, serious, and you both knew it.

“How about another drink?” Alex, William’s brother, casually suggested to defuse the tension. And fortunately, it seemed to work.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, the conversation picking up again around you, but you and William were no longer part of it. You couldn’t focus on the jokes, the drinks, or even the concerned glances from the other guys. All you could think about was getting out of there, away from the probing eyes and the suffocating pressure.

When you finally left the bar, the walk back to your condo was filled with a tense silence. William’s hand was on the small of your back, guiding you through the city streets, but the usual warmth and comfort of his touch felt distant. Every step felt heavy, and the closer you got to the condo, the more the anxiety built up inside you.

As soon as you were inside, the tension that had been simmering between you finally erupted. In the middle of the living room, William turned to you, his voice low and controlled, but you could hear the edge of worry. “What was Calle talking about? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but your hands were shaking, and the words felt stuck in your throat. You hadn’t meant for him to find out this way. This was supposed to be a conversation you had in private when you could both sit down and talk it through without the weight of an entire hockey season looming over you.

“I was going to tell you,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to stress you out before I knew for sure.”

William’s expression softened, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes as he stepped closer, gently cupping your face. “Tell me what?”

Your eyes filled with tears as you finally let the truth out. “I took a test, and it was positive. But Sanna said it could be a false alarm, so I was going to take more tests before... before telling you.”

For a moment, the room was completely still, the air thick with tension. You could see the shock in William’s face, the way his eyes widened, then narrowed as he processed your words. His hands fell away from your face, and he ran them through his hair, a sign of his stress.

“Why didn’t you tell me right away?” William’s voice trembled slightly, though he was clearly trying to keep his emotions in check.

Your own voice wavered, heavy with the weight of your decision. “Because you’ve got so much on your mind already,” you admitted, the words almost catching in your throat. “I didn’t want to add to your stress if it turned out to be nothing.”

William exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping as he processed what you were saying. He looked down, running a hand through his hair again, clearly overwhelmed. “I just don’t get it… I mean, you’re on birth control, right?”

“Of course I am, Willy,” you responded quickly, the desperation in your voice evident. “But… as much as I hate to admit it, they aren’t always 100% safe… and we do have a lot of sex.”

He sighed again, the frustration evident on his face, but as his eyes met yours and he saw the tears that had started to spill, his expression softened.

You could see the conflict in his eyes—the frustration with the situation mixed with deep concern for you. He knew this was nowhere near your fault - if anything it was his, at least both of yours - and that you were just as scared and confused as he was.

So gently, he reached out and took your hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “We’re in this together, okay? No matter what happens, we’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, the tension that had been knotting in your chest easing just slightly at his words. The fear was still there, but William’s support made it feel a little less overwhelming. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Don’t be,” he said softly, pulling you into a tight hug. You could feel his heart beating against your cheek, the steady rhythm calming you. “Let’s just take the other tests and see where we stand.”

In the bathroom, the minutes stretched into what felt like hours as you took the other tests, William pacing nervously outside. Finally, you emerged, holding the results in your hand, as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his.

“They’re negative,” you said, the relief flooding through you both. You could see the tension drain from William’s face as he pulled you into his arms once more, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

That night, as you lay in bed together, the fear and anxiety slowly gave way to a deeper conversation about your future, about the possibility of parenthood one day—but not now, not when life was already so full of challenges and new beginnings. And as you drifted off to sleep in William’s arms, you knew that whatever came your way, you’d face it together.

[allieslittlewritings]

Homemade Ornaments

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Summary: How the Reids spend the Christmas season

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: None that I know of :)

A/n: Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate <3

Christmas in the Reid household was always a little bit extra. Spencer could count how many actually enjoyable Christmases he had growing up on one hand. Even as an adult, before having you, it was a time when he more often than not just felt the sickening feeling of loneliness eat him up. He once bought himself a Christmas tree and decorated it with ornaments he bought. For a second it was nice. Until it wasn't. It didn't feel the same as when he was five and him and his parents would dedicate hours to decorating their tree. It felt lonely and desperate. He didn't have the heart to put that tree up again.

Until you were born. For you, he would make Christmas fun and lively for as long as he physically could.

Your first Christmas was one of Spencer's favorite days of his life. Though you couldn't actually participate in decorating the Christmas tree or baking the cookies you couldn't eat, it no longer felt lonely.

Even if all you did was wordlessly stare at the pretty lights on the tree, it filled Spencer's heart with joy. You were going to love Christmas, he made sure of that.

The older you got, and the more things you were able to do, Spencer happily made up new family traditions for the two of you.

You always decorated the tree together. There wasn't a set date you did it, given his unpredictable work schedule. Sometimes it was as early as November 29th, and sometimes as late as Christmas Eve.

Spencer was busy attempting to plug the Christmas lights in while you made cups of hot chocolate. The same playlist of Christmas songs you listened to every year was quietly playing in the background.

You stood in wait, hot drinks in hand, and watched Spencer struggle far more than he should have knowing he'd done that every year for over a decade.

"Can I please just help you?" you asked.

"Nope, you could get electrocuted."

"So could you."

"True, but that's different," he insisted. "It would be irresponsible of me to knowingly put you in harm's way."

Finally, after what felt like a very long seventeen minutes and nineteen seconds, Spencer happily emerged from behind the tree. He adjusted his ugly Christmas sweater and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and then turned the lights on.

You lovingly admired the lights and handed your dad his mug.

"Ah, thank you, sweetheart."

You sat down in front of the tree and quietly sipped your drinks for a minute before you started hanging ornaments.

You cringed a little when you picked up the very misshapen ornament you made when you were a toddler. "Do we really have to hang this one up?"

Spencer gasped in hurt and took the ornament from your hand. "Yes. The tree would be incomplete without it. It was the first one you made without my help." You couldn't help but notice the absent-minded smile on his face as he admired the ornament in his hand.

Few words were spoken as you contently sat and continued decorating and sipping hot chocolate for the next hour or two. Every now and then you would reminisce on another old ornament. By the time you were done, Spencer could only count two that were store-bought.

Despite very year's activities being more or less the same, the tree, decorations, hot chocolate, music, and Christmas sweaters (Spencer bought you one slightly bigger than your size so you wouldn't grow out of it), it never got less enjoyable for either of you.

Baking cookies used to be a lot more chaotic. Spencer wasn't necessarily bad at baking, he just happened to burn or overbake cookies sometimes in fear of them not being baked enough and leading to you getting salmonella.

When you were old enough to help bake, the cookies turned out a lot better, they were (usually) edible.

This year you wanted to try baking gingerbread men. You gathered all the ingredients, your mixing bowl, and measuring cups.

While you made icing, Spencer measured out the ingredients. He liked to tell you about the exact ingredients and their chemical reactions when mixed together. It made baking twice as fun.

On the dining table you laid out things you could use to decorate your cookies. Frosting, chocolate chips, crushed pieces of candy. You removed a bowl of melted chocolate from the microwave and added that, too.

For no real reason, you and Spencer were excessively precise with your first ones, making sure your little gingerbread men looked like they were from a decorating cookbook. Admittedly, his looked a little better than yours.

Your second ones you did were far more messy. They all tasted the same any way, and the two of you devoured every bite.

Building snowmen was one of your personal favorite winter activities. Spencer always insisted you wear warm enough clothes, almost in excess when you were little.

Your snowman was almost complete, but it needed one last thing. And only then did you realize you failed to bring it with you.

"Dad, please tell me you remembered a carrot for his nose," you said, a dramatic amount of worry in your voice.

Spencer laughed quietly, "I was hoping you would remember but since you didn't..." He reached into your snowman making bag (something you thought of when you were four) and pulled out a carrot.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." You excitedly added the carrot to your snowman's face and stepped back to admire you and your dad's work.

"I think he looks gorgeous," you gushed.

"I have to agree," Spencer said. "Now, let's build him a daughter."

Christmas movies were a staple for the Reids during the holiday season. Most films you watched throughout the month were rewatches, but you would occasionally watch something new.

Spencer settled comfortably on the couch and and sipped his eggnog. You were busy putting your favorite Christmas movie in the DVD player. When you once suggested watching it on a streaming service, Spencer was horrified and told you to never say that again.

"How many times have we watched this movie?" you curiously asked your dad as the film started.

Spencer swallowed a gulp of soup. "Thirty-one and a half. If we continue at that rate, we'll be at a hundred-and-four when you're my age."

Not every Christmas was celebrated on actual Christmas Day. Spencer tried his best to be there every year but sometimes it simply wasn't possible. This year he was lucky enough to have the whole day off.

You woke up bright and early, so as to extend Christmas as far as possible, and sneaked to your dad's room.

Spencer snored quietly as he slept. You softly walked over to him and poked his arm repeatedly. "Dad."

Spencer hummed in response without actually opening his eyes. "It's Christmas, wake the fuck up."

Tiredly blinking his eyes open, Spencer started to groggily sit up. "Language." He wiped sleep out of his eyes and looked at the alarm clock next to his bed. "Sweetie, it's barely 6 AM."

"And?" You fiddled with the strings on your hoodie.

"And, your dad needs sleep." He lay back down with a groan but he could tell you weren't going anywhere.

He sighed and sat up again. "Fine, go get our hats."

You squealed happily and ran to get your mandatory Santa hats from the living room.

You already had yours on when you got back to his room.

"Running on socks is a bad idea." He yawned.

"Will coffee make you less of a Grinch?" you put his hat on his head, making sure to adjust his hair accordingly so it wouldn't feel off to him.

Spencer smiled tiredly. "Yes. Yes, it will."

The two of you made your way to the kitchen and you started making your coffee while Spencer put waffles in the toaster for breakfast.

He added whipped cream and chocolate chips to your waffles and crafted an almost snowman shaped clump.

You sat down in the living room — you opted for sitting on the floor in front of the couch — and ate your waffle.

You and Spencer were by no means chefs, but you still managed to make a decently good Christmas-esque meal. Some of the food was admittedly store-bought but you still tried to make a couple of things yourselves. The next few hours were spent cooking, baking, and talking with soft music playing.

Regardless of how well a dish actually turned out, you loved cooking with your dad. If it were anyone else you'd likely bump into them every other minute but you and Spencer worked well together. It was frankly quite surprising given your shared knack for clumsiness.

Spencer handed you a cherry and ate one himself. That was a mistake. You both thought the cherries were exceptionally good and thus the dessert you made ended up severely lacking in them.

"Two is probably enough, right?" You placed two cherries on top of the cake.

Spencer nodded in agreement as he popped another one in his mouth. "Definitely."

Once all the food was done, you took all of it to the dining table and set it out nicely.

"Bone apple teeth," you said with a bad attempt at a southern accent.

Spencer cringed. "Y/n..."

You cleared your throat. "Да ти е сладко." You smiled.

"Velbekommen," Spencer said back.

You continued to say the same phrase in every language the two of you knew. You stopped when you got bored, Spencer could say it in at least three more languages.

You took your emptied plates to the kitchen, though you delayed washing them until much later, and then joined your dad by the Christmas tree holding two slices of cake.

Every year, you challenged yourself to find Spencer a book you thought he would like, but hadn't read yet. This year you finally found one of the books you knew he'd been looking for for a long time. An old book from the early 19th century written by a not-so-famous mathematician.

Along with the book, which he greatly appreciated, you also got him a T-shirt and an oversized hoodie, one red and one purple. Ninety-nine percent of his outfits were made up of button-up shirts and ties, you wanted to get him something comfortable.

"Are these-"

"The exact hexcodes of your favorite shades of your favorite colors? Yes."

Spencer laughed. "Thank you, I love it."

"Did you know that in my entire lifetime, I've only ever seen you in an outfit without a button-up shirt two hundred and seventy-four times?" You asked.

"Okay, well, I happen to like all my button-up shirts," Spencer mused, looking down at his pajamas. "But I was not aware it was that little, no."

"Open your present." He took another bite of cake.

You reached forward and picked up your present. You opened it softly and carefully, in an attempt to not tear the pretty wrapping paper Spencer used.

Once you finally saw what it was a soft smile graced your face.

A Lego set related to your current favorite subject, with over a thousand pieces.

He'd also handwritten you a loving card.

You stood up and walked over to your dad and tightly hugged him from behind. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sweetheart." He turned around to hug you back.

After you finished eating your cake, Spencer suggested watching that other movie a thirty-third time and you readily agreed.

You paused the movie twenty-nine minutes and twenty-four seconds in and looked over at your dad, getting unnecessarily close to him. "Do you want to go make hot chocolate?" you whispered.

He rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "Yes."

You followed him to the kitchen and sat on the kitchen counter, going on a random tangent about a topic very vaguely mentioned in the movie you were watching.

Spencer added mini candy canes and marshmallows as well as whipped cream to your drinks.

You cozily continued your movie and rested your head on Spencer's shoulder.

"You make Christmas fun," you mumbled.

"Thank you," Spencer said genuinely, pulling you into a hug. "You make Christmas even more fun."