#and in every since this validates it so much

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Toto’s Guard Dog – Part 5

Part 1 Parte 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 636

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader

Summary: Y/n finally kisses Toto, but when Christian Horner catches them and starts running his mouth, she unleashes hell.

________________________________________________________

Y/n had Toto Wolff right where she wanted him.

For weeks, he’d been smirking, teasing, playing his little power games. But now? Now she was in control.

And Toto hated it.

Well, hated might be the wrong word.

Because every time she leaned in just a little too close—every time she touched his tie, ran her fingers down his arm, or murmured something suggestive just for him—his restraint cracked just a little more.

She was winning.

Until, of course, he decided to ruin her life.

It happened in the Mercedes motorhome.

The paddock had been hot, sticky, exhausting. Y/n had been up since sunrise, running around, dealing with logistics, making fun of Horner three times before breakfast—the usual.

By the time she made it back to the hospitality lounge, she was done.

Toto, of course, looked perfectly fine. No sweat, no exhaustion—just standing there in his crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, arms crossed, watching her like he knew things.

She scowled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His smirk deepened. “Like what?”

“Like you’re thinking.”

Toto chuckled, stepping closer—too close, really. “I was just wondering…” He tilted his head. “How far are you willing to push this, schatzi?”

Her breath caught. “Push what?”

Toto leaned in, so close she could feel his breath. “This game of yours.”

For the first time in her life, Y/n was speechless.

And Toto?

Toto knew it.

He chuckled, so smug, and started to pull away.

Absolutely not.

Before he could move, Y/n grabbed his collar and kissed him.

Hard.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t slow. It was a collision—weeks of tension snapping like a rubber band, lips crashing, hands tangling in fabric and hair.

Toto made a sound deep in his throat—half surprise, half something much darker—and then his arms were around her, one hand gripping her waist, the other cupping her face as he devoured her.

God, he kissed like he did everything else—completely, overwhelmingly, like he owned her.

Y/n felt dizzy. Drunk. Gone.

And then—

“Ohhhhhh, well isn’t this adorable?”

Y/n and Toto ripped apart.

And there, standing in the doorway, looking way too smug—

Was Christian Horner.

Y/n was going to jail.

She could already see the headlines: Mercedes Strategist Murders Red Bull Team Principal in Broad Daylight.

Horner was grinning. “I knew there was something going on with you two.” He wagged a finger between them. “You know, Toto, for all your talk about professionalism, this seems very—”

“Get out.” Y/n’s voice was deadly.

Horner ignored her. “Honestly, this explains so much. The guard dog routine? The constant defending?” He smirked. “Tell me, Y/n, is it loyalty or are you just whipped?”

Toto tensed.

Y/n saw red.

“Oh, that’s rich,” she snapped. “You want to talk about being whipped? You’re the one whose wife has to publicly defend you every other week because you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

Horner’s smirk faltered.

Y/n wasn’t done.

“You have the audacity to call me Toto’s guard dog when you’re literally running around begging for scraps of validation from a team that doesn’t even like you? How embarrassing.” She took a step closer. “You think I’m obsessed with him? Sweetheart, you’re obsessed with beating him. And you never will.”

Horner opened his mouth—then shut it.

And for the first time ever, Christian Horner had nothing to say.

Y/n smiled sweetly. “Now. Get out.”

Horner turned on his heel and left.

The second the door shut, Toto let out a long whistle. “Mein Gott.”

Y/n turned to him, still fuming. “I hate him.”

Toto grinned. “I know.”

She crossed her arms. “I—”

Before she could finish, Toto grabbed her face and kissed her again.

Hard.

Possessive.

Like he owned her.

Like he was saying, Mine.

And Y/n?

She kissed him back.

[hello-nichya-here]

Think I finally managed to understand why Azula not getting a redemption arc works in the show, but not in the comics (beyond the absurd ableism in the Yang stories that is).

Azula has become the classic case of a villain that keeps being brought back due to popularity despite clearly not belonging in the story anymore.

Her arc as a villain was completed in the show. She's been the backstabber, the relentless pursuer, and the cunning villain that wins through mindgames. She's been in charge, been under someone else's rule, joined forces with another villain, and had her enemies join forces against her.

She's been the villain that wins people through manipulation and/or charisma, or that full on threatens them into submission. She had henchmen that she used and threw away, and henchmen she cared about and was abandoned by. She was arrogant and power hungry, but also desperate for validation. She was the main villain's adored, loyal pet that was eventually kicked aside in the end.

She's been the lesser of two evils when compared to Ozai, and the worse of multiple evils when compared to Zuko, Mai and Ty Lee. She's been the villain that gets back up after a defeat post The Drill, the villain that wins (by corrupting one of the potential heroes, capturing a friend of the protagonist and KILLING said protagonist) in the Ba Sing Se arc, the villain that has both a satisfying AND tragic downfall in Boiling Rock and the finale, and the villain with hints of humanity that she refuses to embrace in The Headband, The Beach and the finale.

She had conflicts with people she had zero personal history with (Aang, Long Feng) leading to both physical and mental battles, and people she had a messy history with (her friends and Zuko) leading to super emotional scenes.

And finally, she's been the cold, calculating villain AND the villain that is a complete wreck mentally/emotionally - that last one only lasting for the finale because Azula's breakdown was not the CAUSE of her evil actions, it was the consequence of it. And said consequence made her be both the villain that is defeated by the heroes and the one that causes her own downfall.

Every single fucking thing that could have been done with her as villain has been done in the show already. Even Spirit Temple, the only comic that understood her character, couldn't do much beyond just repeat stuff we're already seen.

Azula refusing to accept anything she considers weakness or imperfection? We've see that in nearly every scene she was in.

Azula leading an evil squad? Literally what she did for 90% of her screentime on the show.

Azula losing said squad and refusing to take responsibility for it? Literally the Mai and Ty Lee arc, hence the two haunting her mind in that same comic. Only this time it happened MUCH faster because Azula no longer has all the political power she once had, so there's less consequences for crossing, so she's not as threatening to ANYONE.

Azula being pathetic and making a fool out of herself? The Beach exists.

Azula being obsessive to the point that it's almost laughable? Again, 90% of her screentime.

Azula having issues with her mom, desperately wanting love from her family, friends and a potential boyfriend? Again, The Beach exists and so does the finale.

The scene of her being confronted with a hallucination of an angry Zuko and shooting lightning at him? Literally a direct reference to the Last Agni Kai, which was the culmination of both of their arcs.

The ONLY thing that was new in that comic was the short moment in which Azula shows resentment towards her father for turning her into a copy of him, and that wasn't explored further not just because it's a stand-alone comic, but also because doing so would open the can of worms that is "Wait, if she's self-aware and processing trauma, that means she could learn her lesson and change" and since the writers clearly don't wanna go there, the scene is useless.

If the writers insist on keeping Azula an active threat in the story, they're setting themselves up for failure. Either they're gonna keep repeating storylines we've already seen with far less tension and with a villain that got a severe downgrade, essentially making Azula the Tom to their Jerry, or they're gonna pull a Yang and go "Make her crazier to make her scary again!" while ignoring that her days as a villain were cut BECAUSE she went insane, and now that here vil plans make no fucking sense anymore, the heroes just look stupid for not being able to defeat her.

Azula has nothing more to give to the story in the role of a villain, so she should either only appear in flashbacks or quick mentions of "she's being cared for, but it seems it's too little too late", or she should be redeemed to get a new role in the story, with new paths to explore. She just can't keep being put into the role of active threat, when we've all seen said threat was clearly neutralized already.

It. Does. Not. Work.

[alexanderlightweight]

Amazing to see you better and back writing again! I've been pretty much off tumblr for a while because on RL stuff so quite a shock (but a wonderful surprise) to see I'd missed a Writing Wednesday, but great fun to read through the recent prompts and answers - you still write as beautifully as ever! If you are in the mood for it, I'd love to see something with Alec changing from 'In Command' to 'Melting/Falling Apart' as he walks to Magnus - any verse is good :)

hi!!! it's been a while yes but its amazing to be back and good to hear from you! I get that, RL makes it really hard to be online sometimes, when I wasn't writing I tried to stay somewhat active but tbh writing is why i'm interested in being online so I was kinda bad at it.

i'm actually relieved my writing hasn't gotten too rusty, so i'm thankful to hear that! I hope you enjoy this, it's in the petals vs and is Mirai's POV

<3 lumine

-

in his wake petals fall

Mirai is pleased with her position as Alec Lightwood’s second.  

He’s tough but fair — though he has his own weaknesses — and beyond that, he takes the lives of his hunters seriously.

Which means that when someone from the outside fucks up and puts either lives or the reputation of his Insitutte  in danger, he takes it seriously.

Like now, where he stands half-naked and dripping from his hurried decontamination shower and is dressing down a dirt-smudged, scowling shadowhunter.

“You opened up a manhole to track down a nest of demons and then you just happened to leave it open? Along with the other three hatches and locked areas you went through that allowed two dozen minor demons to flood the streets? I had to send two teams back down to make sure no mundanes fell or were dragged in.”

As he speaks Alec’s volume stays calm and measured and despite being two inches shorter than the hunter he’s scolding, he holds every bit of power in the room with just the tone of his voice. It’s cold, like ice despite the gentle pitch of it and every single hunter in the room can hear the anger and disappointment in it.

“I didn’t know we were supposed to shut it.”

It’s not a question and it’s not even an attempt at an apology and Mirai knows that Idris’ latest and best will be sent back by daybreak.

“Why is he even here?” 

It’s a valid question even if the answer is the same as it always is, politics. 

“His mother just joined the council.” Kaleb has barely looked up from his tablet since Alec was called from his office to deal with the dozens of demons loose in a mundane night market. They’d needed his skill to deal with it quickly and efficiently and even Jace was woken up to direct a city wide communication web despite having only just ended a shift. “We accepted the transfer because his scores were among the top, apparently they no longer test for critical thinking.”

“...”

Mirai has never seen a nephilim move so quickly without active runes before.  Alec’s strength due to his training and use of the bow is legendary but there is still something impressive about watching him lift someone taller and broader than him with the ease of a cat dangling a mouse.

Alec shakes him, as if that will somehow help impart the lesson he wishes to teach him. Considering that half of Alec’s skin is still raw and pink from being regrown after ichor coated it, Mirai imagines the only one truly suffering is her commander. But if this helps relieve his stress after the evening he’s had, she’ll take it.

“Alexander—” 

Salvation comes in the form of Magnus Bane and Mirai will always be grateful for the privilege of having his private phone number.  It means that there is always a quick way to de-escalate the many situations Idris creates.

Her commander drops the offending hunter like an ichor covered stele and moves just as quickly — yet far less angrily — to his husband.

“Magnus.” 

Just as soft but no longer filled with ice, Alec’s tone turns from a cold dagger to a cool, gentle breeze petting against the senses.  The dark furrow of his brow and the angry turn of his lips smoothes too quickly to catch as his eyes soften and he smiles.

If Mirai was any less confident, she’d wonder if he’d ever actually been angry at all.

There’s a quick moment where Alec’s gaze catches her and she relaxes at the pleased acknowledgment there. 

Good.

So far Alec’s never minded that she uses Magnus to reign him in, sometimes she feels almost as if he plays into it, just a bit.

Then something will happen that will remind her that no matter how far he plays into it, Alec Lightwood-Bane truly is just a smitten mess for his husband. No matter how fierce his anger or great his agony, Alec’s attention will always shift to where Magnus Bane is.

Having no need to worry about the success of her mission — the minute Alec heard his husband it was a success — she nods to Kaleb who smirks and taps the tablet in his hands.  

He’ll have the hunter processed and escorted back to Idris before Magnus is done taking her commander out for dinner.  

When she turns, Magnus has already summoned actual clothing beyond damp sweatpants for Alec and a crown of flowers that he’s actually holding away from her commander.  

“Magnus, please?” Alec’s voice is a quiet plea, something so fragile compared to his strength just moments before, as if being denied the flower crown he knows his husband specifically brought just for him will truly break him.

Magnus Bane laughs, winking at her as he shakes his head in mock pity. 

“Duty first, darling.  I can hardly give you the flowers if they might get ruined in a few moments.  You finish handling things here, then you get the crown.”

It’s an opening that in any other situation Alec might take him up on, but Mirai has watched this particular scene replay itself for months and as always, Alec delegates.

“Mirai?”

“Everything here will be handled shortly. I’m sure sending a scathing letter for the council to read publicly will be a much more effective use of your time, sir.”

He definitely agrees, if the way Alec’s immediately turning back to Magnus and dips his head down along with the offering the full effect of wide, glossy hazel eyes peering up pleadingly.

Magnus caves instantly, a crown with flowers Mirai doesn’t know from memory but a scent that tells her is honeysuckle, placed on Alec’s brow.

[tinyfantasminha]

I'm curious what do you think about non sharing in general?

I mean you seem pretty chill about other yume/oc x conan with Jack and Leona so if I'm not wrong do you enjoy talking with others that love them too :)

I do not have any animosity towards people who share the same faves as me!! On the contrary, I LOVE finding other Jack enjoyers and going crazy about him with them!! It's comforting to know there are other people who love him as much as I do 🥹

I always considered myself selective sharing somewhat, just because I don't particularly have strong feelings towards other yumes? I don't usually go out on my way to follow every yume acc I see, I mostly stay in my own circle of mutuals and if people are nice to me and my ships, I'll be nice to them and their own ships in return. (Luckily most Jack yumes I come across are very chill and lovely!)

But the sentiment is a bit more different when it comes to Leona 💦 I'm a Leona liker since 2020 (he was actually a fave before Jack lol) but till this day I don't feel as comfortable lovemailing him the way I do with Jack. Popular character tends to get... more extreme fans 💦It always seemed to me that the Leona fandom (stans/ccxcc shippers/yumes) is at constant war with each other? One wrong interpretation or HC and people will say you're mischaracterizing him or are media illiterate. The vast majority of Leona yumes (at least the ones I come across) seem to be selective/non-sharing too. It makes me feel like I'm walking in a minefield, you know 😭💦

I recently had an unpleasant experience with a mutual on another soc media who is a Leona yume. They always seemed supportive of my art and my Jack yume, but the moment I posted yume art with Leona (the first one in over 2 years), they soft-blocked me. That alone was upsetting, but what made it worse was seeing them still liking my art but only when it featured Leona alone 💀

Obviously, they have every right to do that if doubles make them uncomfortable, just as I have the right to feel upset. But man, that hurt. So my art is only worth something when it caters specifically to them? Let’s just say my years-long insecurity about my Leona yume skyrocketed and doubled after that🤡

Because of that, I’ve become overly wary of selective and non-sharing doubles 💦 I completely understand when your fave means so much to you that the thought of them with someone else makes you feel sick—there’s nothing wrong with that, as long as it doesn’t harm your mental health and you remain polite to others!! But at the same time, please understand that I’m not comfortable with a one-sided connection where I’m expected to support and validate your ship while you make no effort to support mine. I don't want to feel hurt again.

Setting yumeships aside, I'm okay with gushing over any character and even some cc x cc ships together 👍flojack shippers w where are you guys

[turtleblogatlast]

I think a lot about Leo’s tendency to push his way into the spotlight despite clearly being a natural in the shadows. Hell, you could argue that his worst moments are when he’s forcing himself onstage, and his best are when he does things no one notices until it’s already been done.

[satocidal]

@sukunim

HOW TO LOOSE YOUR DIGNITY IN FIVE SECONDS: A HOLI SPECIAL ౨ৎ JJK MEN HEADCANONS

synopsis: holi, the festival of colors, love, and inevitable regrets, has finally arrived. you’ve been waiting all year for this, but the real highlight of the day? your boyfriend’s first holi. whether he’s excited or absolutely dreading it, well… that depends on which one you’re talking about.

content warnings: gender neutral reader, jjk men headcannons (gojo, nanami, geto, toji, shiu, choso, no sukuna this time rip). mentions of hemp. lots of crack, based on many true stories <3

author's note: tell a friend she's back!! thank u for being patient with my break. happy holi if you celebrate, stay safe and have fun :)

gojo’s white hair is a warzone. not a single strand has been spared from the riot of colors that have taken him hostage. you can practically map out the battlefield on his head—electric blue from nobara’s ambush, a blotchy green courtesy of megumi’s grudge, streaks of pink and yellow from random kids who saw an opportunity, and, of course, the deep purple near his roots that is just part of him. his blindfold was a victim early on, ripped away in the opening skirmish, which left his poor six eyes to fend for themselves.

but does he regret it? absolutely not.

“this is the best holiday ever,” he announces, lying on the ground, looking like a pack of expired skittles. he’s positively beaming, grinning wide enough to blind anyone who still has uncolored vision left. “i am beauty. i am art. i am suffering.”

he sits up, running a hand through his hair, then pauses when some of the color transfers onto his palm. his grin falters for half a second before he recovers with a nervous chuckle. “this’ll come out, right? right?”

you don’t have the heart to tell him that some of these colors might have permanently altered his hair. it’ll be fun when he washes it and realizes his shampoo is an accomplice in ruining his life.

nanami thought he was prepared. in his mind, he had planned the ultimate holi defense strategy. crisp white shirt (because nothing says class like a man in white), sunscreen slathered on every inch of his exposed skin (because he would rather die than let the sun and colors double-team him), and a last-minute decision to invest in contact lenses because, well, the alternative was his glasses being held hostage by a bunch of lunatics.

big. mistake.

he comes back looking like a broken man. his shirt? unrecognizable. the white fabric has been violated in every color of the rainbow, some areas more aggressively attacked than others. his hair? streaked with color despite his best efforts to avoid it. and the worst part? the contacts.

nanami rubs his temples, his face twisted into a deep frown. “never again,” he mutters, looking like he’s reliving chapter 120 in real-time. he blinks rapidly, eyes irritated beyond belief, and you realize his biggest mistake was trusting those flimsy lenses to protect him.

you try—really try—to hold back your laughter. “so… the contact lenses?”

he lets out the slowest, most exhausted sigh. “i thought they would protect me.” a pause. then, bitterly: “i was wrong.”

you take in his utterly defeated state, the way he looks more emotionally drained than physically tired, and pat his arm sympathetically.

“on the bright side,” you offer, “you don’t have to worry about wearing white ever again.”

nanami closes his eyes. inhales. exhales. then, in a voice heavy with regret, says, “i miss my old life.”

toji fushiguro is that guy—the one who shows up to holi in all black like he’s at a funeral, fully aware of what’s about to happen to him but too stubborn to dress accordingly. maybe he thought he’d intimidate people into leaving him alone. maybe he thought the dark clothes would somehow hide the damage. either way, he thought wrong.

his face is mostly untouched, purely because no one can reach him. at his height, the average holi enthusiast doesn’t stand a chance. the few who dared to aim for his head either missed or got that look—the one that made them rethink all their life choices up until that moment. but his torso? completely massacred. the black fabric of his shirt has been ruined by every color imaginable, soaked through and weighing him down like a second skin.

toji tugs at his drenched shirt, scowling. “this is bullshit.”

you raise an eyebrow. “it’s literally holi. what did you expect?”

“not to be walking around in clothes that feel like they weigh twenty kilos,” he grumbles. he shifts uncomfortably, flexing his arms like that’ll somehow shake off the moisture. “shoulda just taken my shirt off.”

you glance at his utterly destroyed torso, streaked with a chaotic mix of colors, and smirk. “probably wouldn’t have helped. they went straight for your chest.”

toji knows. he can smell the disaster on himself—especially that horrible silver paint someone had the audacity to slap onto him. it’s clinging to his skin like a bad memory, and the worst part? it’s shiny. he feels like a failed art project.

he huffs, rubbing at a stubborn stain. “if i gotta be drenched, might as well be in red. at least then i can scare the little brats off and tell ‘em it’s blood.”

you give him a look. “so your solution is to traumatize children?”

toji shrugs, unapologetic. “ain’t my fault they’d believe it.”

geto approaches holi with the grace of a man who thinks he can organize chaos. he is all about class, aesthetics, and, most importantly, justice. while others run around like feral animals, flinging colors with reckless abandon, geto has meticulously arranged brass plates filled with neatly piled color powders. the water? prepared in large buckets, not for anarchy, but for people to responsibly fill their water guns. everything is meant to be orderly, beautiful, a functionable and fun holi experience.

he forgets that during holi, no one cares about any of that.

the moment he turns his back, all hell breaks loose.

one person—an absolute menace to society—takes a single look at the perfectly filled water bucket and dumps the entire thing on him. and just as geto is still processing the betrayal, the rest of them follow suit, overturning the entire mountain of color onto him like an avalanche.

it’s a spectacle.

he is left drenched, color clinging to every inch of his soaked clothes, dripping down his face in thick streaks. his once dignified, elegant aura? gone. instead, he’s standing there, utterly stunned, spitting out what can only be described as liquid rainbow.

you approach cautiously, trying—failing—to suppress your laughter.

geto wipes a hand down his face, looking at the sheer amount of color that comes off. he then glances at you, eyes filled with the weary realization of a man who should’ve known better.

“i’m going to have blue teeth by the end of this, aren’t i?” he mutters.

you nod, absolutely delighted at his suffering. “at least you made holi… functional.”

he exhales sharply, color still dripping from his chin. “never. again.”

shiu kong is the epitome of holi with class. while others are running around like headless chickens, he’s standing off to the side, nursing a drink that could only be described as delectable. a perfect mix, smooth, refined—enhanced, of course, with a liiiiittle hemp, because holi is about tradition. he’s not here to get drenched like some peasant. he’s here to enjoy himself.

or so he thought.

he doesn’t even realize the impending disaster until it’s too late. a horde of parched, wide-eyed kids approach him, looking up expectantly, their little hands outstretched. and shiu, in his blissfully buzzed state, barely registers what’s happening before he just hands over the drink with a lazy flick of his wrist.

there’s a beat of silence. then, chaos.

within minutes, he has unleashed the apocalypse. half the kids are suddenly hyperactive, screaming like banshees, running at inhuman speeds with fully loaded water guns, soaking anything and everything in their path. the other half? slumped against walls, swaying slightly, looking like they just saw the secrets of the universe and were not prepared for it.

shiu blinks. realization dawns. he looks down at his now-empty glass.

“…ah, shit.”

you stare at him, half-horrified, half-amused. “tell me you did not just give bhang to an army of children.”

shiu drags a hand down his face. “…i was feeling generous.”

a high-pitched, manic shriek cuts through the air as a color-streaked child launches a water balloon with the accuracy of a trained assassin. shiu watches it fly in slow motion before it smacks a poor soul across the face.

he exhales, stepping back like a man about to abandon ship. “alright. time to leave.”

choso is excited. painfully so. he’s that guy—the one who stations himself in a corner of the arena (or wherever the battlefield of holi has been set) with mountains of snacks and drinks, ready to distribute them at a moment’s notice. hydration is key, he insists. everyone should be well-fed. he’s got an entire system set up, like some kind of holi hospitality committee operating out of sheer enthusiasm.

but when people call him over to actually play, he gets all bashful. he waves them off, shaking his head, mumbling stuff like, "i’m good! you guys have fun!" like he’s some self-sacrificing monk who exists solely to ensure the well-being of others.

that is, until he joins in.

the second he steps into the fray, it’s like something possesses him. the bashfulness? gone. the gentle, food-distributing guardian? replaced. choso goes feral. suddenly, he’s dual-wielding a water gun and a hose pipe, simultaneously, with the skill of a trained marksman. he’s unstoppable. entire groups of people scatter in sheer terror because how is he this accurate?! even those his age shriek and flee for their lives when he mercilessly drenches them.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO BEING SHY?!” someone screams, barely dodging a ruthless stream of water.

choso, entirely deadpan, reloads his water gun. “i changed my mind.”

it’s absolute carnage. colors flying, people falling, screams ringing out—until the moment food is announced.

the instant he hears the words "lunch is ready!" the switch flips right back. suddenly, he’s all smiles again, cheerfully walking toward the food like he wasn’t just waging war seconds ago. he’s even helping people up, brushing color off their faces, offering them a drink like he didn’t just personally destroy them.

you stare at him, still catching your breath, completely drenched. “you’re insane.”

choso beams, already stacking his plate with food. “want some snacks?”

[fleouriarts]

feeling bad about my art lately. will probably not post for a while. but i wanted to at least dump some stuff here before i retreat into my hidey hole

[cozycreaturescorner]

bisexual men who I want to sink my teeth into and shake around like a chewtoy

[n--n]

You know the saddest thing abt Mhin is that they keep their distance from everyone bc they’re scared they’ll get hurt but given all of the others are monsters both literally and metaphorically they’re technically dodging like a ton of bullets

[moe-broey]

"I didn't really raise either of you in a gendered way" When I was like 10 or 11 maybe 12 but definitely not 13 yet, one day you asked me if I wanted to try on the wedding dress you married my dad in. I liked playing dress up and I liked hanging out with you, so I said yes. We're in the living room that you would (already have?) marry my stepdad in. You button up the back of the dress, I don't know why this becomes a core memory. You married my stepdad in a sundress, very casual, very small "event", only the barest of minimum people required to officiate and witness the wedding were there. You tell me, "Maybe one day, when you get married, you can wear this dress. Oh, but you don't have to if you don't want to! But, do you want it?" I still have the dress. I'm a man. And I don't think I'll ever marry. "You can get rid of it, you won't hurt my feelings." I can't.

[todayisafridaynight]

so. uhh. any rgg meetups at animenext this weekend or 🥴

[pandora15]

idk man i guess it's just that i'm struggling to find fic to read and barely having the time/energy to write at all

[616swanda]

guys why being a lesbian is so hard sometimes. i just want to kiss girls damn

[sirjo-esque]

Thinking about that episode where Monk gets lawyered. I hated that episode. That opposing lawyer made so many horrible arguments. And ours made none? Bad writing all around. How about instead of trying to put the gravel together, let's get a few samples tested at a lab? How about we mention that Adrian Monk has worked on plenty of high profile cases before- higher, even, than this artist fellow? I know the episode was structured that way for the plot, but the first time I saw that episode, I was a first grader, and my 5 year old self was smart enough to find it ridiculous.