#do not seek me for an interview lmao

[blurred-cat]

college is pushing me out of my comfort zone and making me write about msyelf instead of silly little fictional guys. ok. cool.

but also like. i'm having to share some of these writings with other people in real life. okay. right. ok. nervous.

but also after the class ends this semester then where do the fucking essays go?

I'm entertaining to idea of putting them here. idk. i just.

they're amateur. they're not my best writing. they're vulnerable. they don't deserve obscurity. i've spent too much time on that shit.

idc if they might identify me. they might. so be it. the worst this can say to someone is that i'm here, being genuine, as i always the fuck am. so whatever.

and especially since i just cried while making the first draft of one of these essays i think putting them out into the world like a message in a bottle is what's needed to close this particular wound.

[theflyingfeeling]

stupid stupid stupid stupid I am so fucking stupid

(LONG rant in the tags. originally a little longer still but apparently there were too many tags so tumblr deleted the rest lol)

[bironism]

bironically, my unremarkable career in law has already toed the line of infamy. my ex-employer, a literal millionaire, paid for an interview with him to be published on my birthday and had the last two questions tailored to make a directly inderect jab at me (that is, a jab that points at me but doesn't name me, starting out true and ending false, the sort of thing that can't be classified as libel as it doesn't unmistakably point in my direction without insider knowledge). it's a 10-questions format, so it's quite obvious which questions deviated from the previous interview rosters. it's a 10-questions marketing gimmick meant to define the interviewee's business ethic for potential clients. the business ethic here being a vengeful cunt.

[ihatedean]

I don't know if it's because I have a serious drinking trauma because of my parents but I feel uncomfortable seeing Jensen drunk but not in the "oh he's disgusting" kind of way, i thing u know what i mean

same🫂 but yeah i had to look away cause it just felt,,, jesus i don't know. weird lmao. my dad is the kind that gets a bit manic when drunk and doesn't realize he's the only one at the party, you know. it reminded me of that embarrassed/uncomfortable "dude stop" feeling. ive been on the other end as well, with my boyfriend looking at me like :/ while i think I'm being funny and can't stop acting crazy, so i guess the clip made me feel like that? really weird. idk it's 5 am

[mercuriians]

can't remember to forget you

content warning — some profanity, mentions of alcohol, references to terminal illness. reader’s last name is mentioned once for plot purposes later on.

author’s note — HI YALL 🥴 this is totally unedited & i wrote this at 12am. i just wanted to get this out as quickly as possible so bare with me. as a fair warning there is a LOT to unpack with the reader’s backstory, and to be honest 90% of this fic is literally just you brooding over kenji LMAO 😭. this is basically just an experiment so if u guys like this plz let me know so i can write a follow up!!

you really have no idea as to how such an important piece of information slipped your mind. two of japan's most recent superstar athletes were returning home at the exact same time. it would've brought a smile to your face in any other situation. if only those two athletes hadn't been you and him. kenji.

it's been years since you two have spoken. well, those years were spent productively, with both of you dedicating much-needed time towards your respective sports. he rocked the baseball field. you shone on the basketball court. but at the end of the day, behind all the sweat and arena lights and post-game interviews, there was a sharp pain that remained unresolved at the back of your mind. the last memory you have of kenji is still freshly imprinted. you had been at his house, and having recently heard the devastating news of your mother being terribly ill, you had come to him seeking comfort. little did you know that he was hurting too, with another fight having just happened between him and his father.

there was so much going on at the time, so much to worry about and so much pain in general, that all the pent-up feelings between you two had burst within one crucial moment. he kissed you, and you kissed back. clothes came off. you ended up in his bed. for a while it had felt like heaven because yes, it distracted you from the worry that consumed you from the inside out, but it had also made your most secretive wishes come to fruition.

until that moment, only you had known how deeply and utterly in love you were with kenji, and how strongly those feelings had grown since you two were fourteen.

there was nothing else that could have made you happier. even now, you remember the feeling of his strong arms around you, the feeling of his mouth against yours. the way your name rolled off his tongue so smoothly, so adoringly, as he whispered it into your ear. the way he hugged you so firmly after you two made love, as if he was afraid that you would disappear.

but then you also remember how something in him changed only a few seconds later. how the atmosphere grew dark the moment he pushed you off and told you to leave without even looking you in the eye. there's a part of you that wants to think kenji didn't mean to hurt you the way he did. it's the more naive, more hopeful part of yourself, spinning stories of how he actually didn't want you to leave, and he just said it because he didn't know how to cope with his own feelings. ultimately, it's all wishful thinking, borne out of a desire to believe that he maybe did really love you.

kenji broke your heart that night, and right now, even as you board the plane headed to tokyo, even as you put on a smile and sign an autograph for a starstruck fan, you admit that not a single thing has changed. you're still holding onto the past, and you hate yourself for it. especially when you realize that kenji probably moved on a long time ago.

"you alright?" your agent, himari, asks when you two sit down. she's one of the sweetest people ever, and you really don't want to lie to her because of the guilt that you know you'll feel. you meet her hazel eyes. you open your mouth to respond.

"yeah, i'm fine," you smile.

damn it.

as the plane takes off, you do your best to remove kenji from your mind, if only for a little while. perhaps inevitably, you start thinking about the very reason you've decided to finally come home. exactly two nights ago, there was a dream you had while you were sleeping. it was vivid in its entirety, and there was fire and people screaming and something very, very big in the distance, in front of what seemed like a sports arena. conveniently enough, there was some sort of fog surrounding the mysterious figure, but you didn't need to see it to know what it actually was. a kaiju.

you remember the words your mother told you before she passed away. it was an extremely painful memory, and really there was nothing in the world that could have encapsulated how helpless you felt when you saw her frail figure. she used to be so strong, so lively with everything she did and said. it took you a while to recognize the woman that laid in the hospital bed. however even with the tears that had stung your vision at the time, you heard the very last traces of her resolve within the very last words she said to you.

"when you're old enough, i want you to start what i couldn't. . to protect the world with the gift i'll give you. please. . just remember that i love you, and that it's worth giving things a second chance."

as you stare out of the plane window, watching the world pass by below you, the clouds mix together and blur into a white haze. a moment later, you realize that tears are threatening to fall from your eyes. you wipe them away with your sleeve before they have the chance to. i'll do my best, mom, you think, hoping that somehow she can hear you. i don't know where or how i'll start, but i will.

there's a lot of things waiting for you in japan, and you're not entirely sure if you're ready. but at the end of the day, it's your home, and you know deep within your heart that you'll do anything to protect it. sliding your sunglasses onto your face, you close your eyes and try to get some rest before the plane lands.

around twelve hours later, tokyo is there to greet you in all its glory. it's night time, but the way the city lights contrast so beautifully against the sky's inky blue-black canvas is more than enough to bring a smile to your face. "we're home, himari," you say to the woman next to you.

"we are, indeed," she breathes out.

“man, not even los angeles can compete against this,” you chuckle lightly. your words carry quite a lot of weight to them, especially considering how you were completely and utterly starstruck for the first couple of weeks you were in california. there’s a reason so many movies were filmed there. yet, tokyo remains on another level, still reigning as the undefeated champion.

fine. maybe you’re a little biased.

however, your smile fades away when you realize that the probability of seeing him—kenji—is at an all time high. chances are, he’s already here. waiting for you.

stop that.

you shrug off the thought, reminding yourself that he had probably moved on years ago. there was no use in entertaining an idea that had been burnt out for a long time. the only person that would end up being hurt would be yourself—and speaking from experience, emotional distress was a lot different than physical. physical pain you could handle. as a basketball star, you were pretty accustomed to them by now. ankle sprains, muscle cramps, even that torn acl from a year ago, which had hurt like an absolute bitch.

emotional pain was entirely different territory. and it was territory that you were not willing to cross. not again.

god, you were such a mess. maybe indulging in a momentary distraction wouldn’t hurt.

“hey, himari, you wanna know what i’m cravin’ right now?” you ask, a false smile creeping onto your face. the woman in question gives you a wary look, brows slightly scrunched together as if she already knows what you’re going to say.

“a good night’s rest before your interview tomorrow?” she asks flatly.

you shake your head. “alcohol. lots of it.”

“ms. matsuda, i don’t think that’s a smart decision—”

waving her off, you protest, “just for tonight, i promise. we’re back home and i wanna celebrate. and how many times have i told you to call me by my first name?”

himari stares at you for a few moments before lowering her head and heaving a sigh. “fine. . [name]. please take care of yourself out there. and be prepared—i’m sure quite a lot of people will recognize you when you walk into the bar.”

you smile in triumph, holding up your sunglasses. “i’ve got that covered. sure, having these on at night are a little weird, but i’ll just pass it off as the new trend.”

your agent gives you another slightly concerned look before bidding you a good night. and with that, you start walking to the nearest bar. it’s small, inconspicuous, and lit up with only one neon sign. all good indicators that there’s probably not a lot of people in there. you walk in, head held high, without any trouble. your footsteps are light and unhurried against the wooden floor as your eyes quickly scan the environment—eleven or twelve people, give or take, two bartenders, a potted plant over by the corner. and a vacant stool at the far end. perfect.

sliding into the seat, you drum your fingers on the freshly cleaned counter as you decide on what to order. “the denki bran looks good, think i’ll get that,” you mutter to yourself.

you feel someone take the stool next to you, but you don’t pay it much mind. at least until they reply to your words. “yeah, it is good. pretty bold choice, though.”

your mouth drops open.

you hear the person next to you snicker quietly.

the snail-esque speed at which you turn your head would have been comical if it had been any other situation. however, it’s anything but funny when your heart jumps into your throat, when your eyes widen with pure and unadulterated shock as they meet those of familiar gunmetal gray bordering on black.

kenji gives you a sharp grin that’s only a little bit sheepish. “nice to see you again, ace.”

[bowieandqueen11]

Resolved Issues / Roman Roy Imagine

Request: HIIIII gonna send my succession request while i still can lol.

how about roman and reader sharing childhood stories? him realising that perhaps, maybe the way his family has treated him is tiny bit Not Normal. the reader being somewhere between "oh my god let me give you a hug" and "i just might fight logan roy in the parking lot". yknow good old hurt/comfort you do it like no other

Thank you so much sweetie!! But also yes I feel this in my soul frick Logan Roy lmao 

Warning: strong language. mentions of diarrhoea and mentions of child abuse/ physical abuse! 

This 3k beast took quite a while to write, so feedback is appreciated! Thank you! :)

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @loverboyromanroy.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Roman shrugs his shoulders and looks steadily at you, straight into your eyes.

‘The fuck- how should I know? Like... twenty three, ish?’

Roman’s perching on the edge of his own sofa, so obviously uncomfortable even in his own apartment. His wrist flicks as he answers, and a few drops of the whiskey he hasn’t touched comes sloshing round the side to stain his brand new eggshell blue decorative pillows. He had never cared much for property. But then again, he hadn’t cared much for whiskey either growing up; it had been his father’s drink of choice, and therefore his. The faint fire in the cold marble fireplace behind his head licks between his ears, and illuminates the confused amusement gleaming in his eyes.

You scoff, and shake your head at him incredulously. ‘You own twenty three houses, and you choose to live here?’ Awaiting an answer you know will be even more ridiculous, you make an effort to tuck your legs criss-cross under you, and sit with your knees resting just underneath Roman’s lower legs. ‘And yet you still live in the coldest ass apartment, I swear to god I’m freezing my ass off, and that’s even with the fire going. Are you a fucking yeti or something, Roman Roy?’

He chortles as you continue: ‘you thrive in colder climates, huh? That’s not surprising, considering a glare from your father could freeze hell over.’ You take a final sip of your drink before reaching over and placing it on the sleek black coffee table; Roman’s eyes drop for a split second as if almost in despondency, some kind of deep scarred sorrow peeking its way out like a tired child, before rising back to yours, seeking comfort. It doesn’t slip your attention. You make sure your fingers brush against his socks as you slip your hands back to your lap, and give a sweet squeeze to the tippy toes. He lets out a giggle and kicks his foot out at you, and it’s the most delightful sound you’d ever hear: that true, unadulterated happiness that Roman Roy rarely ever is permitted to have, without some kind of malicious intention lurking behind it.

‘Okay, well, one’, he ostentatiously holds a finger up by twirling it in the air, and it takes you a second to realise he’s pointedly showing you his middle finger. ‘Fuck you. Two-’, he decides to count with his pinkie finger, ‘my dad owns twenty three hours, I own approximately zero fucking squilch of that. And three, I’m a fucking incredible designer - see that Feng Shui over there? All me baby, I would have fucking killed it as an interior design.’

‘Having one sad as fuck looking potted plant by the window and literally no personal items doesn’t count as Feng Shui, dumbass. You’re just sad.’

‘Okay - well - if you’re such a smartass-’, Roman winds his hands up by his head but nearly lets the crystal glass his brother had bought him for his last birthday fall onto the hardwood floor, so he grimaces and gently places it on the rug. He turns back to glance at you, and despite the fact he’s positioning himself as if he’s conducting an interview: elbows resting on knees with hands clasped out before him, face set in stone, he still looks intent and truthfully curious about the answer he’s hoping you’ll give. ‘What was your childhood home like then? I’m sure full of unicorns that shart rainbows and fucking fairies that sneeze glitter from the way you hate my deco.’

You pause to think for a minute, not fully expecting such an honest question to come from Roman Roy. You place a finger gingerly against your lip, and in that second, perched up on the edge of the pristine settee, Roman wishes he could just leap over and replace your fingertip with his lips. He had never been so entranced by someone: never had the privilege of knowing someone from this corporate world who would be so truthful, so different from him. And yet, at the same time, someone who so deliciously, so crudely, so cruelly reminded him of the young child locked in the cage within his heart: so unknowingly let him cling onto the little bit of him he had tried to keep alive. The only bit of him left that wasn’t a Roy. That was just Roman.

Yet, even in the hope that clouded his mind as he awaited your answer, your words came like slices to slit against his throat. ‘Well, I suppose my home was... well, not to sound pedestrian, or super corny, but it was a happy one?’ He nodded, content to bleed out in front of you. ‘There was usually a lot of laughter, and of course a lot of stress, but you know. We could all rely on each other. It was... yeah, it was nice.’ You stop, biting your bottom lip and switching your legs around so you could raise them up and pull them against your chest. 

You didn’t want to look at the man sitting before you suddenly. It was as if he had regressed into himself as you went along: withering, shivering slightly like a frosty chill over an empty playground. It looked - it felt unnatural, as he stared at you without seeing. He blinked languidly for a moment, soaking in your words, before jutting his bottom lip out and trying his best to grin at you. ‘Well, my childhood wasn’t so horrid either. My brother took me and Ken camping once, and although it was fucking sleeting down like bullets of pure fucking ice down by the stream, Connor did eat a fish that looked like a mouldy shoe and spent most of the night running off into the woods holding his ass.’

He snorts then, his little high pitched hyena laugh bubbling out of him as he places the back of his hand against his lips to try and hold it in, and you can’t help but laugh along with him at the sorry image of the supposed Roy brother patriarch scuttling around like a crab with diarrhoea. 

‘That’s sweet, but do you have any other actual memories with your family where someone isn’t being ridiculed?’

‘Woah, hey-’, he holds both his hands up, and slides down from the armrest to come sit in front of you. ‘When you meet my brother, you’ll understand that he deserves it.’ You flush slightly at the implication, becoming rather uncharacteristically bashful around Roman, and glancing quickly down between your legs. Pulling at a thread until it becomes loose, you pray the timid fire glow is enough to hide from him the rushing heat crawling up your neck. Due to the fact that Roman also is shyly looking down at the toes he’s currently wiggling to busy himself, you both miss the way the other is blushing. 

‘But...uh’, he starts finally after a moment of contemplation: a blessed few minutes of serendipitous indulgence, of growing warmth and familiarity, and just enough time for the two of you to realise how much your presence and conversation had only furthered endeared the two of you to each other, despite the hint of sadness that laced it. 

‘I really - I mean, my dad was like, always busy.’ He scratches the back of his head, embarrassed by the way you tilt your head and look quizzically at him. He becomes hyper aware of how close his knee is to resting against yours, and decides to swallow the fear that seems to be clogging up the back of his throat, and shuffles forward until there’s finally contact. ‘And my brother was like, following in his footsteps and all that jazz’, his eyes widen as he holds his hands out by his side. ‘So there wasn’t really much time for... fun, I guess. Or mistakes. Or family.’

It breaks your heart to watch him deflate once he finishes speaking, and suddenly the austere, cold walls and empty, hollow halls of his apartment make all the more sense. He looks so worn out, so tired of having to hide himself away behind a big, empty mansion full of props and antiques and nothingness all put out for show, because that’s what he was. That’s how he saw himself. A big, empty, tired, twisted puppet trying to bend over backwards to escape the marionette strings of daddy’s love, not realising they’re choking him. It was a strategy, a way to protect himself: to become placid, to mask yourself as being one of them, to fit in with his father’s lifestyle, and maybe then the slaps and strikes and kicks and whimpers would feel like something good. Because he’s trying to be just like his father. So if he’s hit, it’s only because the puppet hasn’t quite danced to the right tune, that’s all. 

As you glance around, you finally begin to notice how unused all the furniture in Roman’s apartment looks: the cellarette by the bar that looks as if it had been varnished yesterday, to the large screen television on the either side of the elongated room that Roman clearly only put on once a night to watch the news, to the velvet cushioned armchair positioned to sweep out and look across the skyline of the city, yet the headrest didn’t even have a dent. All these things. All this barrenness. It made you sick to your stomach. Here he was: a toy left on the shelf to collect dust, taken out to play with only when it suited the puppet master, and he was still so desperate for love that he still tried to copy his father. 

And you could see from the way his eyes were beginning to turn blood shot as he slowly sat there and turned the cogs in the back of his brain over, that this was a thought he had had many times before.

You try your best not to look at him too pitifully, in case he might take offence and retreat back into his shell again when you hold out your hands to him. He swallows thickly, watching your every movement as your fingers unfurl over his knees, and you signal at him to come closer. For a moment, as he squints his eyes at you, he seems tentative. But then you roll your eyes, trying your best to still seem casual, and flutter your fingers at him again. 

It takes less than a second for him to latch on this time, and his fingers grip into the sides of your skin so tightly you’re afraid he may draw blood. But then, you suppose, that’s all he’s been familiarised with.

‘It’s fine, I’m fine’, he tries to shrug it off, but his fingers only squeeze into yours all the more desperately. Worried he’ll try and pull away if you keep them suspended between your touching knees, you slowly pull them down to rest on your lap as he continues talking. He begins to play with your fingers almost subconsciously, looping them through his stout ones. ‘I mean, sure, my earliest memory is Shiv trying to drown me in the pool because she didn’t want so many older brothers to take all of daddy’s attention away from her. And Ken was never really present, dad was always shipping him away to some conference training or having him sit at his feet like his lap dog, but it’s fine. I’m fine. I grew up to be a well adjusted adult without any concerning issues at all.’

Although his tone is mocking, once he’s finished his rambling thought he lets go of your hand to rub his eyes. He does a half-yawn to try and cover the fact that they’re becoming rather bleary - to hide the fact that this is beginning to get at him, actually. And he’d rather stop now, if that’s alright. He’s the jokester in the family. The happy man. The go to cheer-upper. The pathetic one. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to cry in front of you. He was never allowed to cry.

He jumps when he feels your hand against his knee, and he sniffles slightly when he looks down and sees you’ve leaned closer towards him. ‘And your dad?’, you ask quietly, cautiously, pulling the hand of his you were still holding tightly into your sternum. ‘What was he like growing up?’

‘Well, I was annoying. I- I am annoying, so, you know-’

He chokes then, and this time he can’t stop the sob that breaks out from the back of his throat like an overdue bell chime.

‘I’m annoying. I’m fucking annoying, you know that?’, he chokes out between sobs, doubling over on himself, but he’s still laughing between each gasping breathe. ‘I’m such a piece of shit’, he states, doing his best to stop his lip from wobbling and the tears from clouding out of his eyes, but he doesn’t complain when you take your hand off his lap and guide it to the small of his back, just before the dip in his shoulder blades. Gently - ever so gently, as if you were cradling a new born child still so unused to human touch, you guide him down to lie on your legs. He goes easily, taking his hands back to lean them under his chin, and allowing you full utility of your fingers. You put them to good use, beginning to stoke back stray curls of his mother’s hair away from his face, tucking them behind his ear until his breathing evens again.

He watches the sun fall over the edge of the Waystar Royco building: a sight he has seen many times before, but one that feels all the more eerie as the slates of dark metal blot out the light like a flashy tomb.

You bring him back, pursing your lips together and trying not to laugh sorrowfully as he sneezes at the feel of your finger moving down his forehead to trace over the dip of his nose, and evidently tickle it. You move onto the curve of his left eye, and it fills you with at least a little comfort to notice the way he squeezes his eyes shut at the movement. What was less welcome, though, were the few pearly tears that slipped past the cracks of his eyes and began to trace down the old bruised shaped hollows of his cheeks.

‘God Roman’, you choke out, trying to gently turn his head so he’s looking up at you. For a moment, he throws a tantrum and shakes his head in refusal, but your fingers are unrelenting and all forgiving against the side of his jaw, and soon he can’t help but give in to the love he’s so desperately begging for. He allows you to turn him, still squirming in your touch, until the two of you make eye contact. And there’s such naivety there, such desire and craving and conviction and belief as he keeps his eyes trained wholly on yours, that the words just come tumbling out of your mouth.

‘I’m going to fight your whole family I swear. I’m going to fight them all, one by one, and then take over Waystar, maybe find out what the fuck is going on between this Cousin of yours and Shiv’s husband’, he chortles at that, and chokes a little, ‘and then the two of us can burn the place to the ground and ride off into the sunset.’

Although he feels only elation at your words, he starts to shake when you use the pads of his thumbs to gently, tenderly wipe the tears away from beside his nose.

‘Stop, please’, he whimpers, but you know he’s not talking about your physical actions. ‘My dad’s never going to die, even if he is gone. Just- just- get out while you can, okay? Just fucking run.’ He grabs up at your hands, and holds onto one intently. ‘Just fucking go, okay, because I will destroy you. I’m- fucking poison, alright?’

‘No, no’, you state more firmly, when you see the creases in his forehead begin to appear. He shakes his head, and his whole face crinkles up when you admit the one thing left unspoken between the two of you.

‘You - you’re worth it. You’re worth putting up with all of this for, Roman Roy. One day, you’ll be free, and we’ll get to make new memories. Better ones.’

‘Just shut up. Shut the fuck up. Please. Just-’

His words die out on his mouth when you lean down swiftly and replace them with your waiting lips. His hand falls from where it was encircling your wrist, and after a moment of stunned shock, comes up to press firmly against the nape of your neck. His widened eyes melt slowly into a blissful, languid close, and despite the fact that he has no fucking idea how to actually kiss someone he cares about, he does a mighty good job of latching onto your bottom lip and whimpering when you go to pull away.

‘You promise’, he whispers into the tense air between the tip of your nose and the side of his stubble. He leans up to kiss you again, and a bite of saltiness stings at your mouth. ‘You promise’, he murmurs again as he opens his mouth, refusing to break away from the kiss: instead breathing you in and licking the tip of his tongue against your own. Steadying yourself, you grip onto his biceps, and press a last, ardent kiss to his mouth by latching onto his top lip.

‘I swear, Roman, I swear to god I’m going to make up for all the lack of love your family has given you. And I’ll start right now.’

[azaharinflames]

Some 806 spec, because these next two weeks, my God...

Forever thankful to Tim for not leaving us with a cliffhanger, but now I'm just lost as to what will happen in 806. We have no clues, other than whatever happens has to do with Tommy's past. We know Buck will spiral a little bit and will seek help from Bobby as well as from Maddie. And once he's talking with her, Josh will intervene and probably give Buck a nice perspective.

(side note: I think it's very telling it is Josh the one to talk with Buck, who is a gay man around Tommy's age. I do believe he'll be there to be a friend for Buck, but also to give him some much-needed perspective that Bobby and Maddie simply cannot give him)

We know, again from Oliver's interviews, that 806 has Buck and Tommy learning some (uncomfortable) truths about each other (although this can very well be just Buck learning something about Tommy, the wording here is vague on purpose) and some things they need to navigate and get through.

We also know post 806 Buck faces change, and that there is a lot of possibilities for him. And I will be fully honest here, the use of the word 'possibilities' definitely made me wonder if BT were breaking up in ep 806 - and in a way, possibilities was talking about Buck's love life moving forward.

However.

Firstly, it might be just me, but I think it would be a bit weird to speak of an upcoming breakup as 'a lot of possibilities' for Buck. It can also apply to it, which is why I am worried, but it also sounds a bit odd.

Secondly, I remind myself every day that Oliver wants Buck to get off the hamster wheel. That he wants him to finally have a mature relationship that works through its issues and doesn't crumble at the first obstacle. To break BT up now would go against everything he's said lately.

More so, in those interviews, he also refers to these hurdles as something that makes their relationship deepen (when the interviewer says this it is not as a personal take, but saying -not verbatim- that Oliver has mentioned this).

Even more so, the way they were portrayed in 805 didn't scream doomed to me. They were shown as a solid new couple, still learning about each other but working as a pair. Their portrayal was entirely optimistic - even if Tommy was skeptical, he still took care of Buck and fully supported him. He was there for him even for the funeral of a mummy. This to say - if they suddenly broke up in 806 that would be an extreme whiplash for the GA, who has just seen an episode where BT is presented as a great couple with no evident issues.

And there is one more thing. This screenshot from an interview Oliver gave:

Again. Using fun to describe a breakup does not make sense to me. It would be very tone-deaf, and we know from the past that Oliver is very careful about the words he uses as well as the one. It wouldn't make sense, just like it didn't make sense when he described ep5 as fun, and that side of the fandom claimed he was breaking up with Tommy, or discovering a deep, dark secret.

So. All of this (sorry, extremely long, I know. 806 is killing me and we barely know a thing about it) to say...

I think Bucktommy will have the main SL for Buck (I think Eddie will have the main ep SL) during the episode... but I think something else happens. That they'll be okay, and then something turns things around for Buck.

And I think these changes that apparently affect Buck post-806 are not to do with Tommy, but with Buck as an individual. And I think it might have to do as his future as a firefighter.

I don't know. This felt like a big ramble lmao.

Let me know what you think so I know I'm not the only one losing their mind <3

[leclerced]

Maneater au where oscar is just like her little trophy boyfriend.

Theres an even she was invited to? Oscar is on her arm. Theres an annoying ass photoshoot at six am? Oscar is sitting there with an energy drink watching her get all her pretty pictures. She wins a race? Oscar is waiting and watching her from under/is on the podium with her.

He’d honestly just be so happy to be there for her. She can do literally no wrong in his eyes. She shunts into someone in turn one knocking both cars out because they said something bad about him? He’s instantly like “Oh baby, you did so good and im so proud of you. Lets get takeout and watch your favorite movie” and if they happen to have dirty nasty sex on the couch while the movies still playing he’d never complain.

-🥰

(lmao yeah the 😍 emoji is lowkey scary)

he’s her trophy boyfriend!!! he goes everywhere with her and you bet she’s the one dressing him for any event they go to. i can imagine lewis noticing he’s dressing well and complimenting him and he’s like haha yeah my gf dresses me! kinda sheepish because he feels silly when he tells people but she deserves all the credit. she loves doing it and he knows he looks good bc of everyones compliments, so he doesn’t really mind. then suddenly his girlfriend is besties with lewis hamilton bc they bond over fashion. the three of them go to fashion shows that lewis and his gf get invited to and he’s tagging along, mostly clueless, while they chat up designers and models and even though he’s surrounded by gorgeous people, he’s just in awe of his girlfriend and how good she looks in the vintage or custom designer. there are memes, like gigi hadid is on the runway and gf and lewis are watching gigi, but oscar’s watching his gf like she’s the one on the runway.

them getting a podium is everyone’s favorite thing bc they shower each other with champagne and its always weirdly erotic plus there’s one time they make out after she gets her first win. he pours his champagne into her mouth and momentarily forgets they’re on live tv and have a massive crowd watching them. he's taken aback by how hot she looks as she swallows the champagne and then licks her lips and he pulls her down for a kiss on their podium steps. everyone is screaming and cheering, the third person on the podium is still spraying them with champagne and it’s like a vmas best kiss. iconic.

he’s so obsessed with her she can do no wrong. and she’s so protective over him when she sees a mclaren on the side of the track she’s radioing in like “did someone hit my bf??” as if she’s gonna take them out in revenge if someone did. if someone really did, then as soon as she’s out of her car she’s seeking oscar out to make sure he’s okay, holding back her anger until she knows he’s safe. after the first time he learns to hold her in place after she hugs him because her second stop after checking on him is whoever crashed him out, to yell at them and ask them what the fuck is wrong with them. he thinks its cute how protective she is over him, but not everyone finds it so endearing. he’d calm her down and convince her to just leave with him after their media duties and she promises she won’t do anything.

but then she sees them during her interview and she’s calling them out like, “hey! did you apologize to my boyfriend yet? no? go fucking apologize!” they immediately find him and apologize and then tweet an apology publicly bc she scares them. once they’re back in their hotel room and cozied up for a movie, she’d crawl onto his lap and start telling him how glad she is that he wasn’t hurt at all, but she needs to double check and make sure the doctors didn’t miss any bruises. he thinks she’s serious until she takes his shirt off and starts kissing his chest.

[archeryn]

Just Kat, You and Rue.

Basically like what if you, Katniss and Rue won because we need Rue alive guys

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈

✧ Before Marvel could throw/stab a spear at captured Rue, you come in and fight with him

✧ Things started getting bloody, but Katniss arrives and manages to shoot Marvel

✧ You both untie Rue (yay) and they tend to your booboos

✧ Then Claudius Templesmith makes the 2 winners from same district announcement. So that means either you and Katniss (district 12), Rue and Thresh (District 11), or Clove and Cato (District 2) could win.

✧ They call up a feast. You and Katniss decide to go while Rue stays safe in the cave.

✧ Katniss gets attacked by Clove but you come rescue her using your weapon, and you guys are chill with Thresh because he knows you're taking care of Rue. We chill like that.

✧ Unfortunately, Thresh does kill Clove in an encounter, and then he dies from the mutts. Then Foxface dies from nightlock you accidentally collected.

✧ You, Katniss and Rue seek higher ground on the cornucopia roof and so does Cato.

✧ He threatens Katniss by strangling you up with him, saying if she shoots him, you're coming down with him.

✧ You gesture Katniss to shoot his hand and it worked—he fell into the pool of mutations. Then Katniss kills him out of mercy.

✧ Since Rue is not from you and Katniss's district, Katniss pulls up the nightlock and explains if Rue isn't coming with them, nobody is going to win.

✧ And it worked. You 3 have been declared as winners. Though some people didn't like it because it was "too many victors" and "favoritism."

✧ The interviews, then the sad ride back to the districts. You and Katniss say your goodbyes to Rue before boarding the train.

✧ No worries, Rue visits you and Katniss every 2 weeks on Saturdays, and you two visit her the other 2 weeks on Fridays, basically seeing each other every week.

✧ Lmao you and Katniss are like the parents to little Rue

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈

GUYS MY BSF (KNOWS I LIKE KATNISS) AS A JOKE JUST GIVING ME NOTES AND STUFF ABOUT ME DOING SMTH NAUGHTY NAUGHTY WITH KATNISS?? AND IT'S 💀💀

made me giggle (in a bad way) so much in class bro I'm CRYING

Ty for checking out <33

(i need sleep not really wait yes no i probably should but i can't URGHHH no not yet but i want to)

[bisexualdawnsummers]

due south for the fandom ask meme

my favorite female character: Victoria Metcalf. I find her fascinating and would love to read novel length fics about her pre and post Fraser life. I love a female villain in general, and I think Victoria is an example of a well done one. I love that she’s smart and competent, complex, and most of all, uncompromising. She does love (and hate) and want Fraser, but she’s not going to ‘go good’ for him. She doesn’t soften or learn the error of her ways, and I think that’s great. At the same time, I don’t think she’s portrayed as Pure Evil or cartoonish in her villainy, she’s still human.

my favorite male character: Ray Vecchio. For me, Ray is a case of if I loved him less, I could talk about him more. Idk, I just love him. I love how he grumbles and protests doing anything, but still goes along with everything – and usually ends up going above and beyond. I love how brash he can be. I love his fashion sense. I love how loyal and caring he is to everyone he loves. I love how he feels like a real, lived in character with real flaws to go along with all his good traits. I would like to write more, but again, thinking about him makes my brain overheat with love and meltdown.

my favorite book/season/etc: Season 1. Overall s1 was the best written and had the most cohesive character/story arc.

my favorite episode (if it’s a tv show): The Deal (THE Ray Vecchio episode) A big thank you to David Marciano for fighting for this one.

my favorite cast member: I guess I’d have to say Callum Keith Rennie (my birthday buddy!) as he’s the main reason I started watching the show in the first place. I’m more familiar with his work outside of due South than any other cast member. (However, my fixation on RayV has bled through into wanting to seek out more of David Marciano’s work - and listening to a few podcast interviews - so he’s catching up. I also love DM for fighting for RayV’s character. We wouldn’t have The Deal without him.)

my favorite ship: RayV/Fraser. THESE TWO!!! This ship just perfectly scratches at a very specific part of my brain. I love the way that Ray just instantly welcomes Fraser into his life, into his home (into his heart). The way he offers Fraser friendship and acceptance on a level that he’s probably not used to. I love that they have a sort of two sides of the same coin thing going on, how they are parts of a whole, how when they’re alone they are incomplete but together better than they are separately!!!

a character I’d die defending: Ray Vecchio. I’m lucky that I wasn’t around for the Ray Wars and didn’t have to fight against the ‘Ray Vecchio is Homophobic’ or ‘Ray Vecchio is a bad friend to Fraser’(LMAO) allegations that apparently were flung at him back then. I’ve encountered a bit of it in some fics and it makes me want to scream. (To be clear, I don’t mind if RayV has some internalized homophobic issues, I think that’s fair to explore, I’m talking about Ray being violent towards Fraser or refusing to be his friend if he’s gay type of thing. The stuff that is clearly written in bad faith towards RayV.)

a character I just can’t sympathize with: Hm, idk…maybe Pa Vecchio.

a character I grew to love: Meg Thatcher. I never disliked her, but I think I grew to appreciate her more in subsequent rewatches than on my first run through.

my anti otp: Hm, I’d have to say RayK/Stella, I guess, but only in an ‘endgame’ scenario. I actually find their relationship and history interesting and like reading about it in fics occasionally. I also love the idea of them reconnecting as friends because they are a very important part of each other’s lives. I just don’t like the idea of them rekindling their romance in any sort of permanent way. I think Stella makes it very clear that she doesn’t want to reconcile with Ray, so I hate to see that happen on her behalf. I feel like she had to work hard to put up boundaries to keep them from slipping back into old patterns, because while they clearly still care about each other, they’re ultimately not meant to be married. I think that’s why she tends to act so prickly towards Ray, to keep that wall up, and Ray might take any softness as encouragement. Also, I’m not a big fan of divorced couples getting back together in general. I’ve seen a lot shows/movies where couples divorce/separate, only to reconcile (usually without really addressing the issues that led to the separation in the first place), and I’m always like “Please let that woman stay divorced!”

Thank you so much for the ask! <3

[onlyhereforangst]

I don’t go here but you’ve mentioned chenford isn’t great. Do I know what Chenford is? No. Do I still know they broke up? Yes.

Pls share the fandom lore and ur thots 🎤

ok so.

chenford, or lucy chen & tim bradford- former rookie & training officer, respectively. the actual characters have been written so fucking phenomenally i barely have words (she says as if she isn’t about to just. go off). they have managed to truly incorporate authentic human flaws and emotions and decision-making into these characters which have, across six seasons, played out for gorgeous individual & paired character arcs. like they are GREAT are they in a great spot? no. but they are FANTASTIC.

now.

if you were to ask the fandom that same question. excuse me while i die laughing 💀 unfortunately the strikes really helped a large majority of the chenford fandom to twist canon into barely recognizable fanon and now that canon is back and progressing as it absolutely narratively should people are losing their gd minds. deactivating accounts, claiming their done with the show, touting that they’ve been manipulated a bold face lie if you have critical thinking skills but i digress. there’s a select few of us having the time of our damn lives, feeling blessed to have such good writing on a procedural????? of all things. unheard of. truly.

so yeah the fandom is Something because who doesn't enjoy a feast of delicious angst? i mean lucy cannot stop inserting herself into every situation, even her boyfriend who has repeatedly asked her to not because he is trying to protect her (this is it's own separate problem) but literally flinging yourself around outright screaming at your significant other is just. not it. i speak from experience 💀 this is not how you get someone to healthily tell you what's bothering them to the point of tears multiple times. its like if lucy isn't the default hero she just cannot handle? its insane and beautiful because its her tragic flaw coming to a glorious, screeching climax. AND meanwhile??? so is tim's!!!! his loyalty to a tragic fault got him in a bind and he doesn't know what to do and can't handle and thinks protecting the one he loves by shutting her out is the way to be most loyal to HER because suddenly he doesn't feel he deserves her so he's going to break his own heart since lucy was too polite to do it.

anyways this storyline has been blessedly built up with undertones and crumbs since literally the end of season 4 and the fandom acts like it was a total blindside. lmao honeys. have you watched the show??? plus its been teased in interviews for over a year i can't 😭

both characters have a LOT of growing and self-discovery to happen individually before they can even begin to consider being in a relationship. not when that relationship had been built on a foundation of subordinate-superior. that *shockingly* doesn't equate to a romantic relationship of equals and guess what?! it had its ramifications!!! miscommunication trope my beloved you slayed.

ok that was surely more than you wanted seek but a million voice notes to the like 2 people that have been calling this storyline with me since the beginning and the vibrating still isn't out of my system!!! cheers to the hate anons i'm sure to get if anyone takes the time to read this 🍻

[lemotmo]

I feel absolutely dazzled and bewildered after today lmao

I was expecting something? Between the paleyfest and Kat interview, Like maybe some little teases of buddie stuff here and there or some goofy Ryan Oliver stuff, but what we got? Jfc 💀💀💀 it was like bombs on bombs. The paleyfest was ultimately what I expected. Nothing really major. I definitely side eyed them having the couples all next to each other with the windows though. And Oliver’s… utter disinterest in that man had me 🤣. And then him and Ryan being him and Ryan is always fun to see.

But then we get to that cat interview. On the hells of that very good Lizzie interview yesterday. And man oh man. The catholic guilt stuff we have coming our way. The Buck and Eddie leaning on each heavily. The fact they are “going strong. Thriving. Flourishing. “ (Which like we get it Ryan 😂😂) but I just have to side eye that because honestly that’s not really what you say about a friendship for a tv show? Like you don’t go in saying hmm I wonder how these best friends of years and years are doing. I hope their friendship is still thriving! Especially when they ended the season on such good terms and as close as they did.

You do describe romantic relationships that way though. And that does have people tuning in wondering. So 👀👀👀👀 and honestly just everything else he dropped in that interview with Kat today was like it’s own little slice of unhinged Eddie, buddie, with Ryan mixed in heat seeking missles of nuggets that most definitely hit their targets lol.

ALL OF THIS!!! YES YES and YES!!!

Nonny, you just said all that I've been thinking about yesterday and today. 😋

[eldritch-spouse]

I'm asking the dire questions that I NEED to know. Was it good soup? And what soups did you get? Asking as a soup slut cause I love a good soup

Eyyyy, soup sluts!

Unfortunately, there's not much I can tell you because these are like traditional, extremely rural and old soups that are part of super authentic cultural patrimony, and thus there's no direct translation for most of them.

I would absolutely have to recommend mushroom soups as a whole though, I think I would fucking kill for another bowl of the one I had (even if it's already an outlier to the traditional dishes we were seeking). We interviewed the guy about it and it's just so fucking fascinating, it makes me want to study cuisine instead of what I'm doing now lmao.

Man, it was just so good. Good soup, good wine, good sweets, lots of culture- I would much rather be at these little festivals and gastronomic guilds than like... A club.

[aeolianblues]

Honestly if one of the first things everyone knew about me was that I spent 35 years pining for one woman, and later said woman and her daughter because she married a long time ago, then forget the fact that she inspired a lot of my poetry, I would simply burn it all and bury myself from the burning embarrassment of being such a loser.

But such was the life of William Butler Yeats.

Every one of them had a Life eh? TS Eliot too— fascinating fear of decay and mortality. You see it in his work etc etc, but he also left his wife when she fell mentally ill, for a younger hot thing— some 20 y/o when he was in like his 40s or 60s. We see you running away from facing the inevitability, man, a profound line about death doesn’t change that.

So it’s fascinating to read their works with this background context available to you, it’s such an insight into the human psyche. You know I’ve talked about this a little before, on how we sort of look to our poets and songwriters for answers, to help make sense of all the madness, and without fail, they happen to be some of the most flawed human beings in history. Or in less intense cases, they don’t have the answers we seek from them. It reminds me again of that interview with Grian Chatten from Fontaines D.C., in the NME back in 2022. He’s a poet for the modern day, I’ll grant him that easily. He convinced me recently that lyrics can work quite well standing alone as poetry and not come off as naff or aloof, or can still feel quite prescient and not pretentious or removed from the live setting in which they will be performed, making eye contact with you in a sweaty theatre (slowly getting larger, pleased to see, with the U.K. and Dublin arena shows planned). They can still connect with the loud guitars and drums pounding behind them.

He said to the NME, in light of Dogrel and his painting of a Dublin life, presenting you with the characters, the contradictions, the scenarios lived in his Dublin, his portrayal led to people turning to him for answers, when I think what you and him would both know deep down is that you’re really looking to him for a depiction of your world in the words that hit the soul, in a way that romanticises the moments you want to remember, and can beautifully frame the injustices of the bad ones. Not answers. Just a painting.

He said, people are looking to me for answers. What the fuck do I know?

Same as it had always been, hasn’t it? He doesn’t have answers. Yeats didn’t have answers. TS Eliot didn’t have answers— despite his vivid depictions of loss and decay, he still couldn’t deal with the thought of it himself. But all it does do, is let you read a work through the lens of your own life, and then look at it again through the eyes of a complex human being, the poet. It’s an option that is available to you. Some people do subscribe to ‘death of the author’, but if you’d like to explore the mind of someone who isn’t you, if you aren’t afraid to feel uncomfortable, different, or in the skin of a very different person, it’ll open you up to new thoughts, which don’t have to be yours.

I guess what I’m trying to say here is, don’t be afraid to read something you don’t agree with. Bad thoughts aren’t contagious. You can approach someone else’s work knowing it’s a complex read, and that can be an intriguing and insightful read. However, I am absolutely not going to be putting this post in any poetry tags, because I don’t think most people on the poetry canon side of the internet will appreciate me calling one of the crown princes of 20th century Irish poetry and literature a loser. Lmao.

[fannyyann]

hiiii! I totally agree with that Leon anon from a couple days ago, and am so happy I’m not the only one who feels this way. I accidentally fell into mattdrai fandom last year (late, I know) and LOVE the way fanon leon is portrayed in fics but I always found canon leon to be so cold and really had to struggle to root for him or even like him in IRL.

that has now changed due to watching some oilers+ behind the scenes content of him where I realized his cuntiness is just his sense of humor. I also think he is just one of those people who can’t ever NOT be completely BLUNT, which is jarring in hockey where few players ever show personality in interviews. I recommend anon seek out some of the oilers+ stuff as well as watch the Connor/Darnell Nurse interview where they talk about how Leon likes to do impressions of people, which is very lol to me? also that interview with mitch marner where he says HE dragged celeste to see Barbie loooool. anyway I know this is a matthew blog and not a leon blog so I’ll stop but tldr: my wife’s a bitch and I love her!

p.s. I agree that it can sometimes be annoying when matthew is ALWAYS so babygirl in fics but I think that’s because he is one of the few nhl players who shows vulnerability in his interviews and people know SO much about his family so they have thousands of narratives that they project onto him. neither of those things are true for leon.

omg anon, you really had me in the first half I was like “why are you shitting on my guy like thiiis 😭😭😭” but I’m glad you get it now!

He has a very dry delivery and there’d be no mattdrai at all if he hadn’t tried to joke about getting off the ice and instead of being taken as the deadpan sort of joke delivers a lot, it landed poorly and took on an entire life of its own lmao

my favorite part of Leon’s sense of humor is when he waits for the joke to land and starts laughing when it’s well received it’s so cute and DWEEBY

also, now that you mention it I wonder if he and Celeste ever did see the Barbie movie together because he only said that he had suggested it iirc?? Cabbie we need a follow up!!!

And yes, Matthew is a very projectable slate for fandom, but I would say a lot of the things, like the daddy issues and the inferiority complexes, could be projected onto Leon too, and I really think being so blunt with his emotions, and letting the public see how deeply affected he is by losing is a type of vulnerability that fandom doesn’t appreciate.

But also! Matthew is my undisputed #1 but you never have to apologize for talking to me about Leon! I absolutely adore him

[cryptocism]

I just wanna say I think Frequency would be the funniest possible timeline to adapt that one canceled pitch of Sungirl making Bart raise her and Inertias baby. Like. Can you imagine.

i am genuinely so curious about the source of this pitch, do you have the interview where mckeever said this?

all i found during my brief internet dive was a tumblr post from 2023 talking about the cancelled pitch, a tv tropes page with the same info about a sungirl/inertia baby posted in 2021, a deviantart post from 2017 talking about a "pregnant silhouette" from the end of mckeever's run that was supposed to be sungirl (which i couldn't find but i might've missed), and finally the earliest mention i could track down: a comment on this scans daily page making the same claim from 2010 and saying mckeever explained the pregnant character was meant to be sungirl. a drawing in an issue i cannot find explained in an interview that i cannot track down for the life of me.

see i do want to find the source, but also the alternative of a 10+ year game of internet telephone is very funny to me.

anyway sorry this ask catapulted me into a googling rabbit-hole and i got way off track. uhh tbh the idea of an inertia/sungirl baby that bart is forced to raise is a little uninteresting to me personally. but accidental baby acquisition isn't a trope i seek out in general so yknow, personal taste.

i know in the tumblr post discussing it there was a lot of fun speculation about the potential baby's powers and how absurdly OP they would be with a combination of temperature powers and speed powers, but infants with god-like abilities is also not usually something i find super interesting. hard to write stories with problems or stakes when a character can instantly solve any problem you throw at them. (not impossible, obviously, but Difficult)

with magic systems as a whole i lean pretty sharply into Extremely Specific Abilities that can then be deconstructed and used in creative and interesting ways. (which is why writing speedsters is so frustrating for me because they have a laundry list of abilities and unlockable statuses that can occasionally render them immortal unkillable reality-bending time-traveling gods lmao. most of Frequency is me frantically applying internal/external limits and barriers to pretty much all these clowns so that the story can actually be a story and not an instant victory and/or TPK.)

ah shit i went on a tangent again. okay yes i can imagine it, and i hope someone who loves the idea and wants to is able to make it into something great, unfortunately it's not smthn that i vibe with