#i did some looking into the whole ballroom scene

[lestatitties]

Lestat, powdering his French cheeks with arsenic his entire existence

[usuallydyinginside]

TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Consorts [Part 3]

The Ghoul|Cooper Howard x F!Bounty Hunter!Reader

Part 1 // Part 2 // <- -> // Part 4 // Part 5 //

Summary: The Reader and Cooper continue on their travels before running into some of the men hunting them down. One of them get hurt and they must retreat.

a/n: apologies in advance for this leaving on a slutty cliff hanger lmao

~~~

Cooper stood before you. Dapper in his attire, cleaned up in a suit and tie. His face was the same, but he bared a bright white smile. You were dressed in a vintage housewife dress, your hair fixed in an updo. It felt like a scene from one of those old black and white shows you used to watch.

He took one of your hands in his, the other going to the small of your back. He dipped you before beginning a ballroom-esc dance. Twirling you around, your dress dancing along.

"You look gorgeous," his twang falling off his tongue. You giggled at him. "My gorgeous wife," he kissed your collar.

"I love you, Cooper," your eyes stared into his. His grin painted his whole face, he leaned in for a kiss, "I lov-"

Your body jerked you awake.

You sat up quickly, looking around. Cooper was standing a few meters off hunched over something it looked like he was eating. You did not want to bother him knowing he was most likely feasting on something that would turn your stomach. Adjusting your clothes, putting your jacket back on as you stood up. You rolled your neck, stretching your shoulders and legs.

Cooper looked over his shoulder seeing you had finally woke up. He finished his mess then headed over to you. "'Bout time you got up," he strutted over to you. You gave him a halfway side-eye, how unamused you were written on your face.

"We've got a hell-of-a-lot more walking to do," he took a hit of his meds, "Hope you're ready, doll."

You nodded.

The two of you began walking. Sand and debris was the only thing you saw for hours. Mostly silence between the two of you made the travel all that more tiring.

You heard a strange sound in the distance. Cooper was humming some tune a few steps ahead of you.

"Do you hear that?" You questioned him.

He stopped in his tracks, stopping his whistling. It sounded like... footsteps charging in the sand.

Cooper looked around, seeing some blobs heading directly at you two. "Oh for fuck's sake," he grabbed his guns. You looked where he was, seeing the men charging you. All of them fully armed. You groaned, throwing your head back and grabbing your gun.

Cooper began firing at them, sweeping past one of their legs. Causing him to trip and the rest of the group to freak out. Muffled angry sounds came from them. Bullets started flying towards you and Cooper. Both of you pretty much unprotected, but confident in how bad of a shot those men were.

As they centered in on you, they began separating. You grabbed one of the grenades off your belt, pulling the pin and throwing it into the feet of the group approaching you. It sent them flying, blowing one of their legs off.

Cooper chuckled seeing their bodies go flying. He fired both guns, hitting man after man. They stumbled as he hit their legs and arms. They shot back smaller weapons until you saw one of them pullout a real gun. Not some tiny thing, something that would hurt.

Bang.

A bullet fired directly toward you.

Cold.

A cold pain shot down your arm. Like your body was in shock at the wound. Right through your shoulder. Your hand instinctively covered it, you pulled your hand away.

Blood.

Dark red, almost brown.

"Fuck," you exclaimed breathlessly. You stumbled a little to the ground, pain flushing your whole body. Cooper looked to you, his eyes widening seeing the red painting your shoulder. His jaw hung open, a glimmer of concern painted his expression seeing you hurt.

"Fuckers," Cooper began firing his guns rapidly at the men in front of him, each bullet piercing them multiple times. His demeanor changed, like he was angrier than ever before. You watched as all the men who had been chasing you flew to the ground. The desert sands painted red with their blood. A dozen corpses laid before you. Once every single one of them was good and dead, Cooper turned around to face you.

"Can you walk, sweetheart?" He kneeled in front of you, looking in your eyes to read whether or not you'd lie about how you were feeling.

You nodded, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

"There's a settlement a few paces up from here. Make it there and you can rest for the night," he looked over his shoulder almost double checking that they were all dead.

You could not deny the slight embarrassment that formed in the pit of your stomach. You were supposed to be a strong bounty hunter and here you are kneeling on the ground with a bullet shot through your shoulder. Worse, your number one competition was the one who had to save you.

Cooper walked over to one of the corpses, ripping the skin and taking a bite. You stared mindlessly. Moments like this reminded you how bad things really were here. Your road companion could not survive without having to eat someone else.

You knew if he ever had to, he would do that to you.

You shook that thought off.

He walked back over to you, bending down to help you up. He was being so gentle with you. You winced slightly causing him to slow down helping you. Your arm was limp at your side as you stood. You rolled your neck, squinting your eyes.

"Come on, sweetheart." He walked with you. The whole way keeping pace with you, shooting a glance at you every time you made a slightly off noise. You eventually came upon the settlement he had spoke of, only it was completely empty. Only decaying bodies of people remained.

"Guess we got the whole place to ourselves," Cooper's hands went on his hips. He led you into what looked like an old house. Shooting his gun into the ceiling to make sure no one remained. No response.

Cooper helped you into an abandoned room. Dark other than a slight glow coming in through a single window in the room. An older mattress and a nightstand were the only things in the room. Once you got sat, Cooper went looking through the house for a form of something to mend your wound. You could hear his heavy boots throughout the entire house.

"I need to bandage you up," he spoke across the room. You looked at him. Hesitantly, you took your jacket off laying it on the mattress behind you. You unbuttoned the shirt underneath, leaving you in an exposed white tank-top. Stained around the shoulder with your deep red blood. He joined you, standing at the edge of where you sat. He wetted a piece of cloth, dabbing your wound. You gritted your teeth.

"Clean through you," he mumbled.

You watched as he gently cleaned your wound the best he could. You found yourself admiring how he was treating you. He was brash and coarse most moments, but right now he felt soft. Like he was worried about you.

His eyes looked up yours before directing back to your shoulder. For the moment your eyes met, it felt like everything slowed down. Like he was truly taking care of you. Eyes checking to make sure he was not hurting you.

He wrapped a dry piece of the same cloth around your wound, gently lifting your arm to make sure it was on properly.

"Thank you, Cooper," you breathed out. His eyes shot up at your face. Jaw slightly hanging open like he wanted to say something he could not. Slightly hooded eyes stared into yours. He lifted his hand from your shoulder as if he was going to caress your face, before swiftly putting it back down, "Have to make sure you're able to fire tomorrow." He turned his head. A small smile creeped on your face as you looked at him.

Cooper swallowed and cleared his throat. He stood up suddenly, his back to you. "Get some rest," he mumbled through his hand.

"What are you going to do?" You asked as you scooted back onto the mattress. You laid back, stretching your body out.

"I-" he looked over his shoulder at you. He could swear his cock jumped in his pants. Your body on display, skin-tight shirt showing off your breasts, unbuttoned pants showing your pantyline, your hair disheveled, sweat decorating every inch of your exposed skin. He took a deep breath, composing himself. "I'm going to keep watch," he spoke monotonous.

"You could try and get a little rest yourself," you grumbled, "We have a pretty big day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Doesn't matter," he spoke stern, "Can't trust anyone, anywhere." You huffed at him. You rested your eyes, not quite ready to go to sleep. Your shoulder ached, pulsing under your skin. Silence filled the room around you. Your mind wondered to who Cooper was before the war. You knew he had been around longer than most people. Maybe he did not even remember who he was. You wondered if he had a family. If he had any hobbies. What his favorite drink was. You wondered what made him him.

Time passed. Your mind wandered imaging Cooper with hair. The image of him from your dream stuck with you. You bet he was charismatic. Somehow your body was still fighting sleep. Maybe it was the adrenaline from getting shot.

"No one's coming, Coop," you sighed, throwing your legs over the side of the bed.

"Why the hell are you getting up," he walked over to be standing in front of you. "I'm grown," you scoffed.

"Yes, I know that," he rolled his eyes, "I just want you to rest. I don't wanna hear you bitching tomorrow about how bad your shoulder hurts when you won't even lay down for a few hours."

Your head fell forward, eyes in your lap. Cooper stood in the same spot, waiting for you to lay back down.

Doe eyes stared up at him now. The slight light coming through the window illuminated half his face. You watched as his tongue wetted his dry lips. Hooded eyes stared down at you. Warmth washed over your body as you stared at him. "Don't give me those sad eyes," tilting his head. Neither of you were backing down. Both refusing to give into the other.

"What do I gotta do to get you to lay down?" Cooper blew his breath out. You thought of a hundred things you could say to him, ranging from snarky to sexy.

"Sit here and talk to me," you whispered. Cooper's expression softened. Something neither of you had done since reuniting: talked. You went straight into the mission back on the run. You had learned his name, but other than that there was nothing else but minor arguments and groans of disdain.

He clamped his teeth together, looking towards the window. He gestured at you to scoot down on the mattress, "This is stupid." Normally that would have angered you, but in this moment you could not help but smile at him. He was slightly slouched, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Why didn't you turn me in to those guys?" you questioned looking at his hands. You caught him off guard. He stammered slightly, "I-I... You're more important for me to keep you. Besides they would have just came back for me."

Important to him...

You nodded at his response. Thinking it over.

"What did you used to look like?" you smirked at him. If looks could kill, you would be dead. His head sped around to look at your face. He exhaled a slight chuckle. He licked his lips, smiling slightly like the memories made him happy. "Handsome," he grinned for a moment. "Oh?" you laughed out. "Handsomer than any boy you've seen in the Wastelands, that's for sure. 'Kind of handsome that you'd see in the movies," he sat up straight looking at you. You giggled at him. He framed his face with his gloved hands, "Can't you see this on the big screen?" He faked a toothy smile at you.

For a moment you both felt human. Like the world was good.

You had never seen him smile as much as he did right now. Maybe you were both getting comfortable again. Sometimes people moved past bad moments in their past. Maybe you and Cooper could...

"You don't get to ask me all the questions now," Cooper cocked his head at you. You gestured for him to go on and ask. You saw smugness dance across his face. "How was that night?" he grinned. You rolled your eyes, cheeks getting red from the memory. You shoved his shoulder, "Is that all you ever think about?" Cooper chuckled, "Okay, okay... But-" "Oh my God!"

You both laughed together for a moment before silence washed over the room. Somewhere in the laughing his hand had ended up on your thigh. Heat radiated when you realized.

You looked at him with slightly hooded eyes, the light making your eyes glow in the darkness. Your mouth ran dry, you swallowed heavy. Tension so thick in the room that you were losing your breath.

"Do you ever think that..." Cooper started before stopping himself. He blew his breath out, standing up off the bed. He walked back over to the window, hands on his hips. He tapped his foot slightly. He was angry at himself. He wanted to be soft for you. He wanted to fuck you again. He wanted a life with you that he could not have anymore. You stared at him from the bed.

Things got too comfortable. You scared him off. He can't be soft for you, not how you want.

You stood up, taking your pants off. Cooper looked over, watching you strip down to your underwear. "I'll lay back down," you mumbled a little disappointed, "Thank you for looking out, Cooper." You curled up under the old blanket wishing you were wrapped in his arms. You took a deep breath. Forcing your eyes to squint shut.

Silence for only a moment.

~~~

END//Part 3

[Thank you for reading!  If you are interested in being tagging in any of my writings don’t be afraid to message me!  All tag lists are open!  I have a master taglist and one for each character!]

Tags:

@mortuus-poet | @giggle-shade | @ghcstvibess | @pixelatedprofilepic | @maezydaezy |

[enkvyu]

5:22pm — gojo satoru ;

there's a kind of urgency in your steps that parts the crowd of onlooking guests, and they split in half to avoid the trailing hot path you leave in your wake. cold, hard shock twists your stomach and wrings it out, heaving about the wine and finger foods you had consumed when you were still ignorant.

the clicking of your heels echos in the silent ballroom, the bottom of your gown sweeping up the marble floors and the frantic clacks only enhances your horror. if only someone could talk and shatter the silence so you no longer had to be suffocated in your own traitorous thoughts, if only someone could laugh away the situation, though you're sure you'll forever see this scene illuminated on the back of your eyelids for weeks to come.

"let the celebrations resume," a voice answers your prayers, but it is the person who says it that causes you to clamp a hand over your mouth.

even now, you can hear the beginning whispers of small talk and chatter, gossip spreading through the lavish room. it trails after you like a pungent smell, and you're certain the morning news tomorrow will have your name lined in big, bold letters on its front page.

footsteps chase after you, and you curse your gown for slowing your pace. it's inevitable that he catches up to you, just as you exit the grand hall into the balcony, and his hand closes around your arm, pulling you back.

loose strands of your hair whips across your face as you're forced to turn to your pursuer. "gojo." you swallow hard as the foreign syllables leave your mouth. "what do you want?"

the crown prince has grown over the last few years, you think. there's an aura of arrogance he lacked when he was younger, a certainty that straightens his back and the kind of confidence that allows him to chase an older lover out into the night.

gojo's eyes are haunted when he looks at you, really looks at the person you've become in his absence. the hand holding your arm trembles and falls. "why aren't you happy to see me?"

you bark out a cruel laugh. out of all the things he could ever say to you, after the raw anguish that you've never been able to express, after all the silent midnights, interlocked hands pressed tight together praying to the moon that his death was all a big, cruel joke, that was all he could say?

"do you seriously believe i would feel happy seeing you, after all this time?" it's hilarious, and you don't hesitate to let your laugh show it.

"all i could think about was you." he confesses but it's too late, years far too late.

"why didn't you tell me?" you ask instead. "did you think i could see you again and forgive you? on the spot, after leaving me in the dark for so long?"

gojo is still frowning, and you hate that he can't ever see the errors of his ways. perhaps that was the single thing that remained the same. "i couldn't put you in that kind of danger."

"gojo, i thought you were dead!" you finally explode, and the relief it feels to finally tell someone overwhelms you. you choke on the raw emotion, balling your hands by your side. "you still are to me. what did you think i would feel? i finally, finally, got over you, i finally accepted that you were gone and now you're back? now, of all times? i was going to get married, gojo! i was going to have a family, and kids, and finally live my life again. why did you have to show up?"

"your husband is a gambling addict." he says drily. "i wasn't going to let you marry some bastard like him."

"well, thanks." you say, voice flat. typical of him to only hear what he wants to hear, what he can find a response to. "thanks, gojo, is that what you want me to say?"

gojo clenches his jaw and when he grabs a hold of you again, it hurts a whole lot more. "listen to me, i didn't have a choice."

and again, you shake it off. "fuck you, gojo."

"i came back as soon as i could. i prepared all of this for you!" his voice raises and raises, and it's such a contrast to the sweet nothings he'd whisper in your ear when you were only two secret lovers hiding in the stables. “you were the only thing that kept me going and this is what you have to say now that i’m back?”

"and i would throw it all away if it would mean you had told me you were still alive."

"i didn't have a choice." he says again. "if i did you know i would have come back for you."

"do i know that?" the wind picks up and you shiver. "i waited for you. for months i thought this was just another scheme. you would find your way back to me again, because you always did. you always survived, no matter what."

"i did survive."

"but i didn't know, gojo, don't you see?" was it really so hard to understand? had it ever been so hard to convey your feelings to him like it was now, two strangers seeing a different image before them?

there's a creeping sense of foreboding that starts in your stomach and overcomes your mind, a sense that things will never be the same again. even if you were to meticulously piece back a broken faith, even if you were to abandon all sense and throw yourself into a deceitful love, the memories you crave will never be re-experienced, you will never know the pure love of gojo again.

too much has changed.

you shiver and it isn't the cold that shakes you.

gojo takes off his coat at the sight, throwing it over your shoulders and holding it tight in front of your throat. once, your heart might have leapt out at the warm gesture, but now it feels like a noose around your neck.

"i don't need your coat." you say, past all the memories. "what would your wife think?"

gojo groans, brushing back his hair as the wind rustles it in front of his eyes. "is that what it is? me being married?"

you flare up and the cold no longer seems an issue. "of course not! god, gojo, you would be the only one who would think as shallowly as that. you were dead! i saw your corpse tonight at the ball and you have me to believe that all my tears, all those sleepless nights, was because i was jealous?"

gojo breaks away, exhaling deeply. he shoves his hand into his pant pocket and shakes his head. "sorry. i just, you didn't seem happy to see me."

"you sound like a broken record." you remark. with his hands away from the coat, the sleeves flap away in the wind and it's less suffocating, but also less warm.

“i came back for you tonight.”

you were already shaking your head before the last of his words leaves his mouth. “it’s too late.”

“you don’t get to tell me that.” he growls and it’s the second time in one night that he has shown you this feral, aggressive side. “i won’t let you let me go.”

you want to cry. how long had you wanted, needed even, to hear those words? words you were sure would heal the wounds of your heart, words that would fix the world as you know it and lunge you back into the joy of past memories.

those memories are dead now, a part of you whispers, mockingly. you can’t seriously trust him again. can’t you see how he’s aged into a person you no longer know?

you curl your fingers into your dress and pierce your thigh through the fabric. “why did you chase after me?”

maybe gojo senses his chance because he answers the question without another thought. “i needed to talk to you. i needed to see you again and have you see me back.”

“well, we’re both here now. don’t miss your chance.”

gojo takes a step forward. "i'm here to tell you i'm alive. that i've been alive for the past ten years."

"i know."

"and that i'm the crown prince now."

"i know."

"i'm also married now."

"god, you're really bad at apologies." you sniffle, taking a hold of the coat and pulling it tighter. it's because the wind was getting to you, you reason. "but, i know."

"do you, do you have someone you like?" gojo coughs out, feigning indifference. your jaw drops at the topic of conversation.

"gojo, i haven't even forgiven you yet."

"i just wanted to know! the man you were meant to marry tonight, do you...?"

"no."

"okay." gojo says, and exhales. "okay."

"is that everything?" you ask, and you painfully wish that it isn't. you want him to chase after you, to hold onto your hand and keep you there by his side, to want you again. because god knows all you've ever wanted was him.

gojo raises his head at your words, searching your eyes for permission. there's a hard tint to his face you don't recognise and the blue you've once called your sanctuary is duller, lacking light. an aged scar runs across his neck, and a shoot of bitterness surges through you as you realise it had healed in the time that he was without you.

still, you let him take a step closer. closer, you can see everything that has changed at the hand of time. it makes his unfamiliar, different, your old lover wearing a stranger's skin, but it's still the gojo you know.

you have to believe that.

so when he reaches up to caress your cheek, running a thumb over a falling tear, you subdue the shiver that runs its course through you.

you bite your lip and it draws blood. gojo sees it, tracks it with his eyes and even when your tongue has swiped across and licked it away, his gaze still lingers.

"i really did miss you." he whispers and you feel his breath against your wet lips. "you were all i could think about."

"me too." you confess and his eyes flicker up to yours.

"does that mean you forgive me?" and though he smiles, there's a nervous quirk to it that you're sure only you would recognise. this was a side of him that only you saw, only you were allowed to bask in.

"what about your wife?"

"i'll divorce her. i was already planning to, we never married out of love. you know you're the only one for me."

“i know.” you lie. what did you even know about him?

“i love you.” he says and you nod, not trusting your voice to answer. “god, i love you so much.”

when he dips to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, you fight the urge to push him away when he no longer taste like how you remember.

i know you guys want that part two of the gojo imagine but listen to me, 2.5k is a lot to edit when there are tears in your eyes from chem 😮‍💨 i promise i'm not ignoring you guys i js have a lot of studying to do so !! i wrote this quick thing as a filler

[funtheysaid]

IWTV 2x01 Initial Thoughts (Stream Of Consciousness)

- That title card for Delainey felt very stage play to me (ahhh I adore the theatrical elements for this season)

- Ooh I love the idea that vamps can take on the emotions of whosever blood they’re drinking - it’s like the vampire equivalent of when werewolves can smell ppl’s emotions and fears through chemosignals (a la Teen Wolf iykyk)

- “Disregard” is the funniest shit ever 😂 Oldmaniel they could never make me hate you

- There’s a Real Rashid OMFG ??? Lol imagine he’s not actually Rashid and they pull one over on us again I’d fucking shit myself

- “Your love was in a box” OH MY GOD EAT HIM UP DANNY BOY

- OMG OMG LOUSTAT ITS HAPPENIGN ITS HAPPENING EVERYONE SHUT UP

- I MISS YOU TOO LESTAT

- “Quite fucked” 😏😏😏

- “mon amour” “mon cher” “love” IM GOING TO EXSANGUINATE MYSELF ISTG

- The singular finger on Louis’ chin 🥲 so delicate so soft so bad for my mental health

- I like Emilia

- “They are not used to seeing man with good looks” OKAY I know they’re just racists BUT she also wasn’t lying bc beautiful Louis is canon god bless you Jacob Anderson

- Lol Morgan a little fruity

- OOH memory is a monster! They be redoing scenes as Louis “fixes” his memories !!!! That’s gonna show up again for sure :))))

- “Stupid Halloween costume” Daniel Molloy the brat that you are (is okay, Armand likes brats) *cough cough*

- I’ve never seen someone *elegantly* close an iPad before. Armand, you have bewitched me.

- The fucking sexual tension between DM is stifling 🥵😶‍🌫️ Um if this is us “not getting Devil’s Minion” then I think imma be okay

- Claudia pushing the little racist boy 🤪🥹 we can’t help but to stan

- WTF AMC you can’t just jumpscare me with a Grace photograph :’)))

- “UP YOUR BUM” EXCUSE ME MORGAN I KNEW YOU WERE FRUITY BUT SIRRRR?

- so the makeup department really put their whole sfxussies into that decrepit ass abomination

- Louis: Alexa, play Mr. Steal Your Girl by Trey Songz

- Claudia calling Louis Daddy in S1: ☺️🍭👼 Claudia calling Louis Daddy in S2: 😖🤢😟

- I’m dubbing Louis “The Rat Prince”

- “If he can’t take you ballroom dancing and call you pretty” ICONIC.

- “the motherfucker” it’s on sight Bruce or Killer or whatever the fuck your name was 🤕🥊

- “her hand twitched like yours would” why was that line lowkey out of pocket. My mans has Parkinson’s Louis !!!!

- SHE DREAMS 😭 MY FUCKING GOD STOP MY EYES ARE GONNA BE PUFFY WHEN I WAKE UP TOMORROW

- that wasn’t even acting that was some REAL shit. Get Jacob Anderson his Emmy or Oscar or Tony or whatever the fuck I just need him to be awarded for his talent

- Daniel’s soft compassionate side: rare but that much more meaningful when it makes an appearance

- LOUIS you did not just do Emilia dirty like that TF!?! She helped you dude.

- “Human affairs. Their problem.” Not you listening to Lestat now of all times

- “Catfish with teeth” Louis can really read a bitch to filth can’t he?

- AHHH THERE ARE TWO OF THE FUCKERS 👹👹

- Oh shit he’s a kid okay I’m sorry for calling you an abomination earlier. That was mean.

- Woman vampire, you standing precariously close to that fire 👀

- Delainey’s facial expressions are the perfect blend of innocent and slightly unsettling

- OPP INTO THE FIRE SHE GOES rip 🔥

- What the hell is a bacon triptych am I just stupid don’t answer that

- Armand you ain’t beating the iPad kid allegations

- “It’s his drug” He said that with such malice. Is this a “he needed me but he needed drugs more” plot line???

- So Dubai Loumand is chilly frigid tepid frosty glacial

- Free feet? Okay im sorry

- “We can have him saying what happened next in no time” okay wait hold up why you making it sound like YOU don’t know what happened next and you need him to tell you???

- oh danny boy whistling while the couple he’s counseling walks in… is this a comedy or ?

- Daniel: yeah? 🤓 Armand: yeah 🫦

- “the mother of New Orleans” oh he misses home

- LMFAO Daniel interrupting Armand before he can start soliloquizing

- Louis and Claudia in a truck full of art which they belong in bc they too are pieces of art to me

- hard words. soft words. 🥺

- “a shit life beats no life” god damn this monologue feels like Louis is speaking directly to my soul

- “as long as you walk the earth I’ll never taste the fire” If this is foreshadowing I- I- I don’t know what I’ll do but it’s going to involve a baseball bat and a waffle iron and my head

- “it would be enough” pan to Lestat 💀 you can’t be fucking serious right now you just cannot

- okay it’s over and the teaser for the season just started playing and I just have to shout out the score bc damn if those violins don’t get me every god damn time

(Stutter) That’s all, folks! 🐷👋

[lurkingshan]

My Love Mix Up Episode 2

I have just finished the episode and I was not pleased, so this is your warning to look away if it's going to hurt your feelings to read a serious critique of this show.

I was trying to give it some space last week, but this is an offensively bad adaptation of a beloved Japanese work. I could not believe my eyes through the final part of this episode, and I was already feeling pretty down on the episode before I even got there. The team at GMMTV has stripped most of the important themes and the unique aspects of these characters away and replaced them with monetized drivel that is basically just a MSP redux in Kieta Hatsukoi drag. Let me make a quick list of the bad changes in this episode:

Rather than accepting Atom volunteering to play the lead role in drag and rallying around him, the class shoots him down and forces Mudmee into the role

Which means not only that Atom does not perform in drag, but also does not spend time properly rehearsing for this role on stage with the rest of the cast (put a pin in that one!)

Atom doesn't struggle much with getting over Mudmee and starts making moon eyes at Kongthap much earlier on--there's no real arc, it just suddenly is happening

Kongthap is somehow comfortable starring as the lead in a musical despite the fact that he is meant to be a socially awkward and quietly intense dude

Oh yeah, they made the play a goddamn musical so they could make a series of MVs within the episode and monetize the OSTs (they were going to make Mudmee, a girl with intense stage fright, sing and dance onstage???)

Atom runs into the play at the last minute (somehow in a costume for a part that didn't exist) and hits all his marks, performing flawlessly in a role he did not properly prepare for instead of comically struggling to carry out a passable performance

Kongthap (who you may recall is supposed to be awkward and uncomfortable with romance and uncertain of his feelings for Atom) smoothly performs a love duet and ballroom dance scene with Atom, rather than awkwardly delivering a few stiff lines

Rather than the whole class teasing Atom about a drag performance in a way that displayed a subtle form of systemic bias, they had three bullies be blatantly homophobic and get singled out as bad apples

These choices are not just bad because they're different, they're bad because they undermine characterization and the internal logic and themes of the story. Some of this just plain doesn't make sense, and I no longer wonder why Fourth and Gemini are struggling in these roles when their characters are not consistently grounded. If they wanted a generic high school show to make more quick money off this cast, I really wish they would have left Kieta Hatsukoi out of it.

[blissfulbarbie]

Just Once a Year / Pedro Pascal x Reader

Sequel out now: Maybe Twice a Year

The grand ballroom was alive with the shimmering glow of chandeliers, an ethereal scene that provided a backdrop for the most prestigious awards ceremony of the year. This was the first time Pedro was being nominated and he was nominated for not 1, not 2, but 3 awards. As a first timer, he has broken records for this achievement - and yet what should be a night pure of celebration and joy for him is tinged with sorrow. 

He found himself seated in a sea of Hollywood's elite, his heart a complex interplay of anticipation and trepidation. The vacant chair beside him was a stark reminder of the impending arrival of his ex-girlfriend.

Pedro's fingers tapped rhythmically against his thigh as he waited for the inevitable moment. He stole glances at the entrance, his chest tightening with each passing second. And then, there you were - radiant as ever in a gown that shimmered like stardust, hair cascading down your back. A small part of him felt relieved that you didn’t appear with your new rumoured beau, but had taken your brother as your plus one instead. 

Your eyes met briefly, a connection that carried years of memories and emotions, before you turned away, gaze drifting toward the stage. Pedro's heart raced, and he fumbled with his cufflinks, trying to mask his turmoil with a composed facade.

"Hey Pedro," your voice, warm but cautious, pulled him from his thoughts. "It's been a while."

Pedro's lips curved into a polite smile, one that concealed the storm of emotions raging within him. "Yeah, quite a while."

As the awards ceremony unfolded, a symphony of applause and cheers filled the air, a stark contrast to the uneasy silence that hung between Pedro and you. You exchanged pleasantries about the weather, your recent projects, and the industry's ever-shifting landscape, all while the ghosts of your shared past danced beneath your words. 

“How is it we’re talking about the fucking weather when I know what you look like at 2am when you’re too anxious to sleep?” Pedro thought to himself silently. 

"You look absolutely stunning tonight," Pedro ventured instead, his voice carrying a note of wistfulness.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "Thank you. You look handsome as always. And God I can’t believe I forgot to say this already but congrats on everything. You’ve been in some amazing stuff lately.” 

He chuckled softly, his gaze fixed intently on you. "Thank you. So have you,” he replied but he was finding it hard to produce words in his mouth when all he kept thinking about was that you had been keeping up with his projects and had seen his shows. He wondered if you liked them. He wondered if you were proud of him. 

The nominees for each category were announced, and the room brimmed with palpable tension. Pedro's name was called, and he graciously accepted the award, his gaze briefly locking with yours as he did. The applause that followed felt distant, as though they were enveloped in a world of their own making. He didn’t know if it was appropriate to hug you before he went to get his award, although he dreamt of this moment his whole life. For you to be the first one he embraced when he finally made a name for himself - it’s all he’s ever wanted. But he knows he shouldn’t, so he turns to his sister instead before making his way on the stage. 

When he returns you give him a polite congratulations and the show goes on. In a momentary lull between awards, you turned to Pedro, a soft sigh escaping you. "Can I be honest? This.. sucks. I don’t know how to make small talk with you anymore.” 

Pedro nodded, a shared understanding passing between the both of you. "I know. I don’t either.” 

As the ceremony neared its conclusion, Pedro found himself stealing glances at you. There was something different about you—an air of newfound confidence, a sense of independence that he hadn't seen before. Pride mingled with a touch of melancholy as he realized that both of you had evolved since your tumultuous breakup.

Just before the event drew to a close, you leaned closer to Pedro, your voice a soft whisper in the cacophony of the room. "Congratulations on your award, Pedro. You truly deserve it. More than anyone else in this room."

"Thank you," he replied, his voice holding a tenderness that belied the complexity of the situation.

As you stood to leave, you turned to him, your eyes holding a mosaic of emotions and words left unsaid. "Take care, Pedro."

"You too, sweetheart," he responded, his voice a gentle murmur.

Walking away from each other felt like a symphony of unfinished sentences and unspoken feelings. Pedro couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia, of the love you once shared and the heartache that followed. Yet, an unexpected thought bubbled to the surface of his mind: "I get to see her. At least once a year, I get to see her." It was a sentiment that resonated deeply within him, a small solace that fueled his determination to excel in his craft, to secure nominations, and to continue crossing paths with you in these fleeting moments. You were a brilliant actress and he had no doubt you’d continue climbing your way to the top. He wanted to be there when you did. Even if he didn’t get to be by your side when you did, he’d settle for being in the same room.

As he exited the grand ballroom, Pedro cast a final glance back at you, who stood amidst a constellation of fellow actors and industry luminaries. A surge of pride swelled within him as he watched you shine, your accomplishments standing as a testament to your talent and resilience. In that moment, despite the awkwardness and pain that had punctuated your encounter, Pedro felt a genuine admiration for you—a reminder of how far you both had come and how he’d never stop rooting for you.

He walked away with a heart brimming with emotions, knowing that the annual awards ceremony had become more than just a gathering of stars for him—it was a canvas upon which your shared journey would continue to unfold, inspiring him to strive for greatness and to keep crossing paths with the woman who had once captured his heart. He would settle for watching your life through pictures and screens if it meant he could have this moment with you - once a year.

-

Dedicated to my babycakes: @just-some-random-blogger who co-erced me into writing <3

[jazjelspen]

leaving on wild charted waters [pt.4]

(what if our mc got tired of Night Raven College and all it's inhabitants?)

(what if our beloved mc has...(voluntarily) been helping with decorating for the ball that will be happening in the next few days!?)

(just a “filler” chapter but it's just pure fluff and our mc having a great time with their new RSA friends + fleshing out some RSA students that I may use in future chapters/will get back to angst but as many of you know: our mc needs to be happy!

p.s Neige is actually a nice person in this series, he just doesn’t mean to come off as fake. I just wanted to write a nice version of the character for this!)

(fluff/splash of angst but it's very short)

the ball: part 1

you couldn't be more relaxed. you are currently chilling with your new friends and Rielle on the same shore you stepped your shoes in on your first day here. you all decided that after a long day of studies, activities, and fun ballroom decorating that it'd be a great idea to just relax beside the waters with everyone having each of their favorite snacks and drinks.

you and your friends were quiet since all you could all do was take in the refreshing sea air and the feeling of the breeze kissing your faces, the sound of the water sloshing and splashing also added to the calm ambience of the scene, and of course it wouldn't be complete without the screech of a seagull or the cute chirps of birds. I just can't forget to mention the same beautiful sunset that came upon your first day here also appearing in this exact moment, it really did always take your breath away. 'god, nothing could beat this view' you thought.

you noted how this time when you volunteered to help out with ballroom decorating, that no one actually ever left you on your own or ditched you. everyone did their part, some mishaps here and there, but it wasn't anything none of you could fix. you actually felt as if the work was much less with everyone actively doing their job and not slacking off or disappearing when they have the chance... these guys actually sticked by you and didn't let you down in the slightest. it was as if a splash of the freshest water just hit your face and took off a lot of stains that you had from NRC.

you all reveled in the moment until someone finally spoke up, "today was no joke." your friend, Alex Underlan, spoke in an exasperating tone as he laid with his arms and legs spread as if he's about to make a snow angel in the sand. "it felt as if this day would never end."

the next to speak was Neige Leblanc "we did take awhile to set up the decorations for the ball. thankfully we managed to finish just in time before the setting sun left!" he spoke with a smile as he looked up to see his little blue bird friends sitting comfortably on his hat. "we have to admit we did do a pretty good job on the decorating."

Chenya, an acquaintance from NRC and now very good friends with in RSA, stretched his limbs out in the sand with a loud yawn "beats me, I'm just glad that the hard part is over and we can now nap like kittens!~..."

"I agree with Neige though, we did do a pretty great job with decorating! along with the help of our fellow animal friends too it made the whole thing a bit more hectic yet fun." Rielle chirped in "I do have to admit-- Raps and _____ did an amazing job painting the ceiling and walls for the occasion! it's like those really detailed murals from waaay back then!"

Raps then replied with a bit of a sheepish smile "aww thanks Red, but obviously I wouldn't have been able to get it done in time with my favorite assistant _____ here!--" Raps shook your shoulder gently with the entire group chuckling with each other.

"hey! I'm your only assistant!" you replied with a light giggle "Raps I seriously have no idea how you're not afraid of falling from such a height-- you have immense trust in your hair." you paused " but then again i was hanging onto your hair while painting-- so I actually can tell why you have immense trust in your hair." you all just fell into a fit of laughter together in harmony at the hilarious memory of you freaking out a bit while clinging onto your friend's hair over how high you were to then feeling confident and relaxed while painting the ballroom walls and ceiling with Raps.

after you all calmed down the excitement for the ball started rising in your chest once again "honestly... i'm so excited for the ball. mostly because it's the one ball where I most likely won't have to deal with any people that have underlying personal issues that I have to deal with." you let out an almost happy sigh.

Chenya snickered, knowing well what that referenced to "nahh, no overblots here. don't remember there ever being one since I first came to this rabbit hole." he then closed his eyes as to take a light cat nap.

"me either!" chirped in Neige "but no need to fret or fear, in case an issue does come up we won't ask you to have to take care of it for us. with what you've told us you have seemed to have gone through so much already--" he spoke this next part more lowly " I should've... noticed it back when the VDC event was happening..." Neige sulked a bit but then gave you a small smile "I'm just glad you still came all this way to give RSA a chance _____!.."

"thanks Neige, that's actually... very kind of you to say." you smiled back as one of Neige's little blue birds landed on one of your knees and chirped a small song for you.. how cute and charming. "actually back then at the VDC event I honestly thought you were probably hiding under some super cute and friendly facade but turns out that it's really just you being naturally kind and well... friendly!" almost everyone either choked on their drinks or giggled, basically all collectively agreeing that everyone else thought that too in the beginning of meeting Neige at some point.

Neige paused a bit and looked at you with wide eyes and a genuinely confused smile, processing what you just said as he let out a very confused "huh?--"

"Raps Belleflowe!"

a loud interrupting and snarly voice boomed from behind the group of six, so loud it caused the little birds that rested on you and Neige to fly away! you all simultaneously turned to look at the tall and dark figure with voluminous black curls awaiting for one of you.

Raps sighed in immense disappointment as he packed up any snacks he had out back in his satchel, now looking all gloomy. "well- I'll see you guys tomorrow!.."

Chenya then turned to look his long haired friend with an almost disappointed look too "leaving so soon blondie? not staying over to grab some full grub with us?"

Raps shook his head "ahh...not today guys! maybe next time--" he was about to walk out before he quickly faced the group who all groaned in disappointment together " hey how about to make up for it I treat you all to lunch at school!" everyone still seemed disappointed yet each still gave Raps a thumbs up at his idea.

you all watched him scurry to his father who seemed to be less than pleased, almost scolding him before they both walked seemingly back to the dorms.

"I don't like Raps's dad... always gave me the heebie jeebies, keeps Raps from us outside of school-related stuff, and always gives me low scores on my biochem tests!..." Alex grumbled as he looked up at the sky.

"he is an intimidating individual.. but he seems to be very attentive to Raps and always seems to help him with all the countless hobbies he has!.." Neige tried to seem a bit positive, but he does agree with Alex on the first two things.

"a bit too attentive, I know a helicopter dad when I see one." Rielle huffed before he yawned. "well let's get a meal before we all head our separate ways and sleep like sleeping beauty."

Chenya and Alex both seemed to agree very much with this idea with how quickly they both to stood up in a weirdly comedic way.

you chuckled at this "guess we don't have to tell you two twice."

Alex laughed at your comment "you really don't!"

while the other three got up Neige gently tapped on your shoulder before you got up as well. "hey _____! if you don't mind-- could we take a photo together for my Magicam? I've posted photos with everyone except you, and I wouldn't want to leave you out!" he gave you these puppy dog eyes as he asked, you couldn't help but chuckle at this and nod.

"of course Neige, I'd love to be in your Magicam." you spoke before a bright smile grew on his face and you both set up a pose together in front of his phone's camera.

"1...2..!" and right when he was about to say three he clicked on the camera button and now he has a memory of you two! he looked over the photo "look at us! we look great!"

you nodded in agreement, genuienly impressed with how good you two looked "huh!.. we really do don't we!"

you both giggled together before a loud and sharp 'ahem!' interrupted you both. both pairs of eyes looked up to see all three of your standing friends waiting for you.

Chenya groaned "let's get going slow pokes! Im starting to mistake Alex's stomach growls to that of a lion's roar." the cat tittered before Alex gasped and punched him on the arm, not hard enough to actually hurt him.

"no they do not! fleabag.." Alex sneered.

"awwe! that hurt, blondie #2..." whined the cat.

the rest of you three lightly laughed at the scene before you as Neige and yourself got up together. once the two wrapped up their play fight you all as a group started walking to the nearest shop for a quick meal.

guess you didn't realize that with Neige posting the picture of you two later on in the day that it'd rise hell onto the campus of Night Raven College-- unbeknownst to all of you.

(really short compared to other parts but next chapter will be when the actual ball will happen and all the silly funzies stuff too. as mentioned once again this chapter and the next are basically just fluff and "filler" and to flesh out most of mc's new friends +adding sprinkles and splashes of angst here and there to at least keep it interesting!)

[theheroheart]

Rogue got delivered a day early.

Gonna put a whole bunch of quotes and observations and things under the cut, very Rogue focused.

SPOILERS, OBVIOUSLY.

Also I will say, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE buy this book, it absolutely deserves it, I adored it. It was wonderful and gave us SO MUCH.

Rogue's former partner is a he, and he's Rogue's boyfriend. His name is Art, which is indeed short for Artificer (reference to D&D). And Art is confirmed dead at this point, and has been for 5 years. Rogue and Art were together for 10 years.

Rogue jumps off a building at some point, knowing Art will save him.

Art was tall with shoulder-length curly hair and wore a sleek purple tunic, rolled up at the sleeves. On top of this was a metallic chest-piece that crackled with electrical energy. On his head he wore a pair of steampunk goggles that complemented his hazel eyes. As he pulled on the net, a long grey scar could be seen on his arm, a memory from a battle lost years before. As the net neared the ship, Rogue smiled up apologetically at Art. But judging by the icy look he got back, well - he couldn't smile his way out of this one.

Rogue doesn't like parties. Partly because he prefers "a good night in". (Though Rogue cannot cook, lmao.) And partly because while "watching the wealthy gorge themselves" he knew "most of the population was living in abject poverty." Rogue says eat the rich.

It was an odd feeling to think that nights like that wouldn't be on the cards for Rogue and hadn't been in fact for a long time. It's strange, the shape time takes when you lose someone. One morning they are next to you, on their pillow, and the next morning you realise they haven't been sleeping there for nearly five years. The five years had gone by slowly and quickly, all at once, Rogue's bounties all blending into one another. It wasn't that Rogue hadn't continued to live, or even to love a little bit. But when you felt you'd lived through the main event of your life, everything else - that extra bit of life you found yourself wandering through - was a bit like an epilogue. Rogue would walk the ship, each night, inspecting every weathered part. A fading heartbeat of a life once lived. He could no longer think about that day. That time. He felt more ghost than man at this point. That was why it was so surprising when Rogue gazed down at the ballroom below and suddenly found himself transfixed. There was a man in the middle of that dancefloor. A gorgeous man. But this wasn't just shallow attraction. There was an energy to the man. An unfiltered joy. Something Rogue instantly knew he wanted to be close to.

There's minor dialogue changes, as there usually are.

'You know, I can help you,' the man went on. 'Trouble, I am good at.' It was then that Rogue emotionally left his body and starting panicking a good 50 feet above the scene playout out below. Was this man handsome? Yes. Was there a bit of chemistry here? Yes. Did the man smell surprisingly nice for someone from 1813? Absolutely.

Instead of going outside, Rogue and the Doctor get punch and actually chat together.

Rogue recognised her as the woman the Doctor had been spinning joyfully across the dancefloor. "You okay?" the Doctor said, concerned. "Yeah. Just, avoiding engagement." She noticed Rogue. "So you found a scandal, then?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her as if to say - you behave! - but she just laughed and rushed off down a corridor. Rogue watched it all play out, intrigued. So his dance partner does know him then. But how well? The Doctor turned back and looked into Rogue's eyes, apparently noticing his puzzled expression. "Don't trouble yourself, love; she won't need me till there's screaming, or smoke, or both. Or Goblins. Right now, I'm all yours." Rogue nodded. Okay, Goblins - interesting - but the Doctor could just be a fan of fairytales.

Rogue imagines conversations with Art sometimes, and in this case, Art is encouraging Rogue to flirt with the Doctor. "The fantastical joy of dead boyfriend imagination theatre."

Usually, the imaginary conversations Rogue had with him were when he was alone in the ship but in moments of crisis sometimes, he would imagine him, a life raft in a sea of social interaction nightmares. "Would you let go, for a second. Flirt back. Ask him about his favourite paintings, the wonders of the universe." Rogue looked at Art. "He's from 1813." Art laughed. "Okay, well ask him about the wonders of lawn bowls then, who cares." Rogue sighed. "It was always so easy with you. Why can't it be easy with anyone else?" Art gave him a knowing smile. "You gotta be willing to let it be easy." He gestured back to the Doctor. "Now, come on, you can't just bat your pretty eyes at him." Rogue looked at Art and batted his eyes. "Oh, I absolutely can." "What are you blinking at?" the Doctor asked, intrigued, and Rogue found himself snapped out of his daydream and back into reality. Rogue apologised. "Sorry. A ghost."

The Doctor continued to sip. "You know, I think it's kiwi. No, they aren't here for another century. So what are the green bits?" Immediately, Rogue let go of his fleeting feelings of enjoyment and replaced them with cold resolve. How could the Doctor know something like that? He talked about the present and future like they were all the same to him. No, Rogue had found his bounty and it was time to get back to work. The manor was too busy, too full of guests. He needed a safer place to capture him. Somewhere he could get him alone. "Why don't we continue this conversation in the garden?" Rogue said, a flicker of mischievousness in his eyes. The Doctor laughed. "Fast mover, let's go."

The dialogue confirms again and again that they are SO FUCKING THIRSTY FOR EACH OTHER THE ENTIRE TIME. Besties, please.

He looked back at Rogue, walking, brooding (of course), and had to remind himself that this was an interrogation, not a date. "I love these old skies. Ripe with constellations being found and named." He gestured above, pointing out his favourite constellations. "The bear, the ram ... the poop-deck." "The romance of the night sky," Rogue replied sardonically as he gave the Doctor an oh really look. That stare of his. The Doctor laughed. "Don't blame me! De Lacaille chose them! Great astronomer, bad with names." Then he smiled cheekily. "But if it's romance you're after? He also named those stars there the pump, the chisel, and Norma." Okay, he was flirting now. Ruby would be furious with him if this silly side quest was what got him killed. "Not what I'm after," replied Rogue, his tone back to matter-of-fact but his face blushing a little.

Rogue made the gun himself!

"Keep moving," Rogue replied languidly. Another day at the office for this guy. The Doctor turned his head back to check on the glowing chamber of the blaster. "Is that a glo-stick?" He knew he had said something good because he got the biggest reaction from Rogue yet, hearing him grunt then look immediately offended. "Glo-stick? I made this!" Rogue bit back. Okay, we have an ego here and apparently an inventor, thought the Doctor. That's- "Cute," he said, which only spurred on Rogue. "It's not cute, it's a disseminator. It's very complicated." "Like its owner." The Doctor grinned. He figured if he was going to get killed, he might as well enjoy himself.

Their ship is named the Yossarian.

You can tell a lot about a person by the ship they fly in, thought the Doctor. It's home away from home. Which explained why he was shaken by what he say. Granted, he had made some assumptions about Rogue, but this dimly lit and cluttered space was not what he had expected. It was an absolute mishmash of tech, half-made projects, tools and strange-looking things in piles or cages. It looked and smelt like a mechanic's workshop. In the corner was a cockpit for flying, pretty much hidden behind a stack of metal toolboxes and a hammock slung in the corner, he assumed for sleeping but perhaps eating as well? Oh, Rogue, he thought. What happened, love?

The mess aside, the make of the ship did not surprise. It was an old asteroid hawk from the 50-56, often sold on the cheap in many star systems. In anyone's ship was a shed, this was the one. He looked across the console, trying to see if there might be anything useful to help him escape or at the very least steer the conversation towards suggesting Rogue should get a broom. [...] On the console was an Ood translation sphere, plugged into the ship's controls. It would allow Rogue to understand the local languages wherever he travelled, but the Doctor's attention was taken more by the can of unfinished Gurgle balanced dangerously on top. It was a dusty can. Left there a long time ago.

The spaceship scene is very similar, just tiny differences. Although it confirmed that the Doctor has played D&D, specifically with the Paternoster gang, and that Strax played a bard with a beautiful singing voice.

The Doctor also thinks about Fourteen, thinking that he likes him and hopes he's living his best life right now.

Different past selves of the Doctor, different genders and ages, all projected on top of his current form. Right now, standing in the middle of the Yossarian, he was revealing his true heart. His power. His strength. His undeniable wonder. The Doctor looked from the scan back at Rogue, right in the eye. "I am not a Chuldur. I am something much older and far more powerful. I am a Lord of Time from the lost and fallen planet of Gallifrey." He took a deep breath. "Now, let me go, Bounty Hunter. We have work to do." Rogue just started in awe, taking in the Doctor, all of them. "You're beautiful," he said.

And then you get a long lovely flashback to Art and Rogue having a romantic dinner. (And I would just like to say that I 100% called the Artificer thing.)

"You are so stubborn!" Art said, lowering his spoon. "I told you not to put more chilli powder in, yet here we are." Rogue laughed. "Look, I tried really hard to make us this terrible meal." "Now, hold the phone, I did not say this was terrible, I just said you deliberately ignored my advice." "Unwanted advice," Rogue replied. As he took another mouthful, a tear started to form in his eye. The stew was too hot, but he was never going to let Art know that. "I can see you crying," Art said. "There's a literal tear, rolling down your face." Rogue looked at him, faux dramatic. "I'm just feeling really emotional about my chair over there, that you still haven't fixed. Art laughed. "Oh it's your chair now, is it?" Rogue smiled and wiped away the tear he had pretended was not there with his sleeve. He continued to look around the ship, at the home he and Art had made together. Art had built everything on the Yossarian and nearly every gadget Rogue used on the missions. The emphasis on 'nearly' was because Rogue had foolishly attempted to build a few of his own. It was a learning curve for him. A steep one. Where Rogue had charm in spades, Art had a talent for turning a kitchen spoon into a deadly laser ray. He could do anything. The name Art had also come from Dungeons & Dragons, a shared pastime and passion between them both. Art was short for Artificer; this was a class in the game known for their invention and incredible ability to see the full potential in objects, and it suited Art to a tee. Rogue could never pin down exactly when the nicknames had started. Like so many things when you've been with someone for a very long time, it had begun as a cute reference, but then the nicknames just became everyday for them until, eventually, the old names just didn't fit any more. They were just Rogue and Art to each other. And that suited them both fine.

"You know, I could go undercover next time," Art said. "Oh yeah," Rogue said playfully. "Last time we tried that, you gave someone our actual contact details." "We got on! An alias shouldn't prevent an actual friendship." Rogue nodded. He got up, went round the console and put his arms around Art, nuzzling into his shoulder. "I guess it's how I met you," he said, and the pair of them laughed. Art smelt like a warm fire. He was taller than Rogue, only by a bit, but it meant he looked up to him slightly, which was a bit of a novelty for Rogue, who was usually the tallest in the room. He took in Art's face: every line, pore, the stubble, the striking, hazel eyes. Art looked back down at Rogue, and it looked as if he was about to say something deeply profound or romantic. "So, is this your apology for dinner?" Rogue leant in closer. "Oh, never," he murmured.

Oh also, Rogue hadn't meant to give the Doctor that name.

"Does 'not a Lord' have a name?" "Rogue." Immediately, Rogue panicked. It wasn't his actual name - Rogue was the name that Art had given him - but it would do fine. For now. [.....] "You ready for this, Rogue?" It was funny hearing someone else call him that, but his name sounded good being said by the Doctor. Rogue liked it. It fitted.

Also Rogue "immediately recalled a quite complicated winter with Houdini". Apparently him and the Doctor has an ex in common.

They explain what happened to the gun.

"Now, trap, please." Rogue handed it over but immediately regretted doing this so willingly. Sure, this man's ship was brilliant. But the trap, that was his. "And your disseminator?" "Only if you handle it carefully," said Rogue, keeping his eyes locked on the Doctor, worried what the plan could be for his precious creation. The Doctor took it calmly. Then he snapped the disseminator in half. "Hey!" Rogue shouted. "Do you want to save everyone or not? Look, watch me." And Rogue did, as the Doctor moved some parts from the disseminator into Rogue's trap, then attached it to the TARDIS, using cables. Rogue found himself fighting not to remember the hours of work that building the disseminator had taken. He had to let this go. "Okay, past me the hyperdyne link," said the Doctor. "Blue wire, under the switch, there." Rogue did as he was told, eager to see exactly what new monstrosity the Doctor had turned his favourite gadget into. The Doctor grabbed the cable and plugged it into the newly upgraded trap. It sizzled slightly. "I can't believe you broke my stuff!" Rogue complained. The Doctor stopped what he was doing and looked at him, dead serious. "Whatever the Chuldur have done, I can't let you kill them. I also can't let them kill others. So, instead, we'll send them to a random, barren dimension. No one to hurt there and no way back." "Random? So I can't trace them," Rogue protested. The Doctor just nodded as the trap continued to whirr behind them. "Don't pout too much. When we're not trying to kill each other, we're a good team."

"You know, you don't have to stay a bounty hunter. You could travel with me. Oh the worlds I could show you, Rogue." "And what if I like what I do?" Rogue got the feeling that when people met the Doctor, they would often uproot everything for him. Why should that always be the case? Rogue had just as much to offer in adventure.

"I'd like that." Rogue felt that swell in his chest, that nervous energy as he took another step towards him. He was very aware that their faces were almost touching. It would only take one of them to lean in a bit closer, and they were already so close, so close that they could almost-- Ping! The console in the TARDIS chimed. "The trap is ready," the Doctor said, and the moment was gone. He moved back to the console as Rogue stood there, recovering. He could hear the Doctor speaking down at the console, but he barely registered what he was saying. He just nodded, lost. What was he getting himself into?

And then I went ahead and typed up the entire chapter 19, because the whole thing is an imaginary letter from Art to Rogue.

Chapter 19 A Letter to Rogue Dear Rogue It feels silly, writing you this letter, but I hope it finds you. So we're clear too, I don't want this as a Please don't mourn for me or some other such nonsense. Honestly, I am quite irritated that it wasn't you that died... Would I say that? I suppose. Whatever helps your imagination. I know you've likely dreamt up and read this letter many times. I fully understand why; I was good chat. However, if only for your negotiation skills, I hope you've made at least one friend since my passing. Imaginary letters from dead boyfriends can't be your only form of communication. Of course, if the person reading this is his only friend then I gleefully warn you: Rogue is stubborn. He says he will clean that particular corner of the ship, but I promise you he won't. I spent ten years asking and I could have put that time into something actually productive. I could have learned at least five more languages in the time I would have saved. So take my advice. Give in to this reality. Admit defeat. It will never happen. A few other things to note: his snoring can and will wake up the most dangerous animals, and for some reason - despite eating pretty much everything - bread with any kind of seeds or olives in is an absolute no. I agree, it's a real failing on his part. Apart from this, however, what you will find is a great man who I loved with every part of my soul. Please give him a hug from me and do not name a child or dog in my memory when you move in together. A cactus is fine, though. And Rogue, if it is you reading this letter, don't let me worry about you. I did enough of that when I was around and oh, the time I wasted. Don't hide. And please don't go fixing up our ship for ever. I was the mechanic anyway. Live. Talk with everyone. Laugh. Dare to ask someone, 'Is this seat taken?' And, most importantly, don't forget to dance. That's the best part. Yours, Art

So anyway, after that heartbreak, it's back to more action.

"Should we be telling humans?" Rogue asked cautiously, leaning in behind him. The Doctor noticed Ruby's curious expression. "Oh! Ruby 2024 and Emily 1813, this is Rogue, he's a bounty hunter and almost incinerated me." "A mistake he said he was letting go of." Rogue held out his hand to Ruby and Emily, who both went for it at the same time and ended up shaking it together.

"But what does it all mean?" Emily gasped. "Are we all going to die?" The Doctor and Ruby exchanged a look: Who is going to take this? To their surprise, Rogue stepped up. "There's a creature from another planet at this party," he said. "Highly dangerous, it can look like anyone it's killed and if it gets you ---" He looked at her, dead serious. "It'll drain your life in a second." Emily's eyes widened and she hurriedly began to fan herself, presumably as an alternative to fainting. "We need to work on your people skills," the Doctor said as Ruby put her arm around Emily, trying to calm her. "Now, let's find our Duchess!" He looked over at Rogue, exhilarated. This was one hell of a first date.

The Doctor could already feel people starting to turn and whisper but his focus wasn't on that. All he was thinking about was Rogue. Rogue's hand on his shoulder, his chest. Rogue's eyes locked with his as the pair of them turned and twirled across the floor.

"We need to have a big fight so I can storm off alone and draw her to us," the Doctor said, spinning Rogue away from him. "Can't I storm off alone?" said Rogue. "I would rather not talk in front of this many people." "Oh, come on, Rogue," said the Doctor. "I'm sure you talk to lots of people. Your bounties for a start." He gave his hand a little squeeze and whispered, "I believe in you." "Doctor, please!" Rogue protested. He was too late. The Doctor pulled away from him and gasped. "How dare you, my Lord!" he shouted. He was incredibly pleased to hear the music stop immediately, the crowd turning to stare. It was so deliciously dramatic. "You would ask me to give up my title, my fortune -" he chewed up every word, really hamming it up - "but what future can you promise me?" Rogue didn't say a word back. He just looked at him pleadingly and stuttered slightly. "Say anything," the Doctor whispered, then raised his voice again. "Tell me what your heart wants, or I shall turn my back on you for ever." By way of illustration, he literally did turn his back on Rogue. He looked at the crowd, hearing nothing but silence behind him. Then a gasp. The Doctor turned and faced Rogue again, who was now down on one knee. He had pulled off a ring from his finger and was holding it up to him. Rogue was proposing. Fast mover indeed. The Doctor knew this was a moment of fun, for the drama. Despite that, he couldn't stop a jolt of panic. "Sorry... I can't," the Doctor said. He raced out of the ballroom, and Rogue chased after him.

The worlds I could show you. That's what the Doctor had said to him in the TARDIS. A phrase that was playing over and over in his head. Rogue looked over and saw the Doctor, waiting for him, hidden behind a hedge. He felt a rush of excitement as he tried to focus. He'd not been asking the Doctor for marriage, but for some simple commitment. A sign he could stay longer than this one adventure. To see those worlds he'd promised. At least for a little while. Now he couldn't stop wondering how much of their connection was real and how much had been for show.

To escape the Chuldur, Rogue and the Doctor dive into the lake, where Rogue finds the body of the real Lord Barton. He almost panics and has to go back up, but the Doctor takes his hand and calms him down, so they can stay hidden long enough.

They get out of the lake soaking wet, and the Doctor makes a comment about "Ruby was right, this is a bit Mr. Darcy."

Then there's a wonderful additional scene, where Rogue is initially refusing to help because it's too dangerous, and he's too scared after having lost Art.

He had expected one Chuldur, that was the contract. Not a family. He'd counted at least five. These were very bad odds. "I'm not being paid enough for this." "Paid or not, people have died." The Doctor had his sonic screwdriver out and he was fiddling with the waterlogged trap while they walked. Rogue thought he was as focused on fixing machines as Art had been. Annoyingly, both of them had the ability to do that and argue at the same time. "We go back there, we'll die," Rogue insisted. "So you'll just walk away?" Rogue stopped.

Rogue had read about family of Chuldur. One that had destroyed every place it visited, leaving no survivors. In the past, he would have dived headlong into this kind of danger without batting an eyelid. He loved the rush of adrenalin and he had that stubborn will to reach his target, whatever it took. Then he had suffered the cost. The Doctor was wrong. He wouldn't just walk away from all this. He'd run. "There's too many. It's not my problem." Rogue quickened his pace away from the manor and towards the Yossarian. This time, the Doctor did not follow him. He had stopped still, determined not to take another step. Rogue reluctantly stopped too and turned back to face him. "If it's not our problem, whose is it?" The Doctor's voice was cold, angry. "Who do you think will help these people if we don't? You're here. You've seen what they're doing. You are choosing not to care." In the dark garden, Rogue stood defiantly across from the Doctor, his breath shallow and fast. He'd hit a nerve. Rogue had had years of practice at not caring and didn't want to change now. The Doctor was calm in comparison, determined and immovable. Rogue knew that if he chose to walk away now, he would be walking away alone.

Rogue agrees to help, but is still scared and trying to convince the Doctor to leave with him, and WEEHH GUYS.

The Doctor was about to clamber through when Rogue reached for his hand. "Are you sure?" Rogue asked, his voice soft. They were facing beings that had destroyed cities, taken countless lives. How could the two of them stop such creatures? And with one shot? He felt a deep ache in his chest; he couldn't lose someone else. Rogue looked pleadingly at the Doctor. If he gave himself enough time and distance, he could learn to forget his troubles and bury his guilt. He could stop himself from caring. Rogue had done it before. He could do it again. He could show the Doctor how. "We could go anywhere," he said. "I'm going in here," replied the Doctor. Not a waver in his voice, not a second of doubt. Rogue looked into the Doctor's eyes and knew that he would never stop caring. Could never stop wanting to help, to fight, to go on. That was who he was. The Doctor let go of Rogue's hand and climbed in through the window, and Rogue did what he knew he would do for ever. Follow him.

Absolutely unhinged content, thanks Kate and Briony. Rogue wanting to leave makes his ultimate sacrifice SO MUCH MORE INTENSE.

When the Doctor finds out about Ruby, he almost lunges himself at the Chuldur, and Rogue has to pull him back so they can remain hidden.

And then, absolutely heartbreakingly, as the Doctor tries to find some other solution for maybe bringing Ruby back:

He was desperate, and Rogue's silence gave him every answer he didn't want. Rogue slowly opened his arms, and the Doctor fell into them and sobbed. "I'm sorry," Rogue said over and over.

The Doctor absolutely hams his speech up, and there's a minor change as Rogue is there to help him set up the triform trap. (Emily, like a fool, just accidentally walks straight into the trap!)

And then we reach the final sacrifice.

Seven… Rogue didn't want to push him, but they were running out of time. "They'll kill us, then everyone here. They'll destroy this world.' Six… Rogue was next to the Doctor now. He could hear him breathing hard. "And you know that, you absolutely know that." All that torment was wrapped so tight around his chest that Rogue could feel his heaviness, his dread. "So, can you do it? Can you lose your friend to save the world?" Five… The Doctor started to cry. "No." "I know." Rogue smiled at the kind, brilliant, amazing man in front of him. Four… Then he stepped forward and wrapped the Doctor in his arms and kissed him. It was a soft, passionate kiss, full of promise. The moment was tender. Romantic. It was theirs. Three… Rogue stepped back and gave the Doctor one last smile, revealing he had taken the trigger device from him. Then he turned quickly and ran full pelt into the trap. Two… It flicked on and off as the Chuldur tried to scramble to the edges. Emily moved a step towards Ruby, grabbing at her as Rogue barrelled in. He knocked Emily to the trap floor, causing Ruby to be thrown free. Only one shoe left behind. One… Rogue looked down at his feet inside the glowing triangle and back up to the Doctor. He was now trapped with the Chuldur, but he was not afraid. Rogue could not have let the Doctor say goodbye to the person he was closest to. He knew that pain too well to let the Doctor hold it, even for a second. And so he'd known the decision he had to make. He couldn't lose anyone else. But he was ready to be the one who was lost. Zero. "Find me," Rogue said as he pressed send. The patch of triangular floor turned jet black, as the Chuldur started to scream and fall. Rogue caught a last glimpse of the Doctor before he dropped down into the darkness of the Transport Gate. As he fell, his mind had one, clear thought. Worth every second.

The rest goes about as it does in the episode. We don't get the Doctor's immediate reaction to the loss. But as Ruby hugs him, "The Doctor leant into it and let himself feel what he had buried for a moment. Not all of it but just enough to carry on with the day."

And then of course he discovers the ring in his pocket and he puts it on. "A little piece of Rogue to go with him."

And you'd think that would be the end, but there is ONE MORE CHAPTER, which I'm just gonna quote in its entirety, because it's insane, you guys.

Chapter 33 The Forgotten Place A howl in the darkness. The wind growled ferociously around a barren and abandoned planet, far out in the forgotten reaches of space. Giant grey rocks covered the surface. As the wind hit them, charcoal-sand blasted up, creating sandstorms wherever it hit. This was the only movement on the surface and, at first glance, it would have seemed the only sign of life. But if you looked more closely, there was a light. From the mouth of a cave, the bright glow of a campfire burned through the grey. Inside, sat a man. Rogue. He was trying to keep warm. Rogue had been there for what felt like months. The cave had been a saviour, sheltering him from the environment but also from the enemies sent here with him. He had lost them, at least for now. As time passed in the cave, any concept of a day had folded in on itself. Rogue kept his mind busy with the simple tasks of staying alive: build the fire, watch the fire, build the fire again. Rinse, repeat. Thankfully, there was some food to be found on this planet - mainly winged dalnats and other small cave-dwelling creatures. But they were not enough. Rogue knew that if the cold didn't get him, starvation would. What this planet didn't know, however, was that Rogue could not be broken so easily. He had made a promise to himself. He had agreed that he wasn't going to be lost any more. Because Rogue had realised he was worth finding. As the fire began to die, Rogue thought of the man he had come here for. The magnificent being who was beyond any comprehension of existence. The one known to most as the Doctor. Of all the timelines they could both have inhabited, Rogue was grateful that their eyes had met on this one. What a great surprise that had been from the universe. Yes, right now, he was lonely, but time wasn't linear, and this was his favourite thing about it. Rogue was sitting in this cave, but he was also walking with the Doctor in the garden, he was laughing with Art in the Yossarian, he was falling from a building, he was running from one memory of his life to another. All at once. Rogue was in the Doctor's arms, spinning around and around, for ever.

So there it is. Absolutely gorgeous book.

There's a bunch of stuff I didn't include, a bunch of extra stuff about the Chuldur. But also the first adventure with Art, and a bunch of extra minor stuff.

So please please do get the book if you can!

[kombuuuu]

oh I have a request! Miguel x reader where he teaches you how to dance? your so bad at ballroom and Miguel was trained in it when he was younger and can't help but intervene when he sees you messing up the steps.

Hold my swaying Heart.

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

“I don’t know how to dance..” “I’ll teach you.”

i had to research how to waltz and why is it so confusing

He’s so baby 😻 (there’s bugs whispering in my ears)

To say that Miguel didn’t like a lot of people would be an understatement.

He thought most of the people he was protecting, the people he’d risked his entire life for—,

,We’re at best naïve, and worst, plain stupid. Believing that they were out of harms way because of the gift they’d been given.

You were an exception.

He didn’t see you as a burden, or an idiot. Naïve, maybe a little. But not in the way where you could get hurt physically, but more emotionally.

He rather saw you as someone he could care for, as you had done rather terribly caring for yourself.

Being dependent and trusting compared to the Spidey people he met day by day. You were sweet, loyal, and god you would not leave his head.

So when Peter had invited him to some stupid dance, and said you were coming with a sly smile on his face, he’d begrudgingly agreed.

Which is what led him to right now.

—

God you looked gorgeous. A sleek white dress complimenting your features, slit running down from your thigh. It hugged every sweet form of your body, giving him a view he was rather thankful for. Sheer white gloves covered your hands, and the pearls you wore sat nicely against your collarbone.

You looked elegant, and he couldn’t get enough.

Off dancing with Hobie, stumbling and stepping on his toes. Laughing with him while he told you how dancing was just a social construct, anyways. Though he laughed with you.

The scene was pretty, he’d admit. It was a gorgeous hall, oak wood floor expanding enough room for eight seat rounded dining tables with tea light candles on white cloth, and a dance floor. The band was set on the elevated stage at the corner of the room. Playing nice, easy classical.

Roses and fancy spoons, along with an over the top chandelier.

Everything looked rather expensive, it suited his taste.

He caught Hobies stare from across the room and the brit smirked.

Miguel glared at him.

Don’t.

He watched as Hobie leaned down to whisper in your ear, making eye contact with him the whole time. His fingers twitching in anger and jealousy.

The brunette’s back straightened, his figure hulking over most in the room. Adorned in such a restricting suit probably wasn’t helping his case. Biceps straining against the thick fabric, he wondered if something had gone wrong at the tailor, or if the woman who had done his measurements had also done this on purpose.

His attention refocused when a new song had started, a song he knew very dear to himself. Years of his childhood as a dancer paying off, his memory jerking at the familiar notes.

Waltz of the Flowers.

He watched as Hobie tried to lead you through the steps, a sort of urgency running through him. You stumbled again, further into the brit before you, and Miguel gave up trying to stop himself.

Slowly making his way over, he did nothing to stop the confident expression Hobie wore, the kid was doing this on purpose, this was bait.

And yet he can’t stop himself.

“Mind if I step in?”

You looked up at him in surprise, eyes twinkling. “No, of course not,” Hobie snickered for a second before covering it with a clear of his throat. “,Be careful with ‘is one. She needs a little teachin’.” “Hey!”

You lightly smacked Hobie’s arm, grinning all the while. And as Hobie detached himself from the both of you, he clapped a hand over Miguel’s shoulder, not having to lean to whisper to him. “Don’t fuck it up, mate.”

Before Miguel could reprimand him, he waltzed off somewhere to find Pavitr.

Turning his attention back to you, he’d realised you’d been staring at him. Getting caught leading to your eyes quickly darting to his chest, before you realised that kind of made you look like a creep and ended up just shutting them for a moment. He laughed lightly, stepping closer to you. “You ok to dance, Conejita?”

“Yes! I uhh—,” Your sentence broke for a second and you opened your eyes, clearing your throat. “,I don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“Okay.” Breathless, you agreed.

He hummed, settling his hands in yours and guiding your feet into position.

“You know how to Waltz?”

He looked down at you, eyelashes fluttering pretty against his cheeks as he blinked.

“Didn’t spend 17 years learning not to know.” He chuckled, a lighthearted jab, something you were both comfortable in participating.

“Hmm..—“ You giggled before you could stifle it, “,Damn.. If it took you 17 years to learn, I think I might want a new teacher.”

“Oh—,” He laughed a challenge. “Oh, you wanna go down that route, Querida?”

You hummed through your humour.

“No— No.. I’ll learn.” You looked up at him, the light of the chandelier haloing his outline.

A smile danced across your sweet face.

“Good.”

His voice dipped lower, hand squeezing yours just a little tighter, a little more possessive.

“Now pay attention.”

“I am paying attention.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah—, I’m not.”

He snorted, redirecting his focus to where you were slowly swaying to the song.

“Move your feet just like this, C’mon.”

“Like this?”

“Perfect, you’re doing good. Follow my lead, just like that.”

The praise made you shiver, you willed away the feeling to focus.

“Good, you’re a quick learner.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhmm.”

He watched the fabric of your dress sway when you moved with him, tripping over your steps every now and again and muttering simple apologies to him. Which he promptly shut down.

He guided you through the waltz, telling you when to break off and when to halt in a pause. He talked you through every step, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have an effect on you. By the end of it, you were a flustered mess.

The song came to a close, Miguel leading the whole way through it. When there was no more music, and the other dancers around you had started to disperse—,

Miguel dropped on of his hands from yours, letting it come to rest on hi shoulder, the other sliding to your hips.

“You’re pretty good, for a learner.”

You snorted, “Yeah?”

He hummed his affirmation.

“Well, you’re a pretty good teacher.”

He scoffed back, rolling his eyes and smirking.

“Think I should become a dance instructor?”

“For spider people?”

“Well, feel like they’d be a bit more clumsy.”

“Mm, it’s either that or save the multiverse so—, choice is basically already made.”

“Dance instructor.”

“Definitely.”

He smiled and laughed, avidly ignoring the relieved expressions of the small group of teens, along with Peter and Jess.

When another slow song started up again, instead of waltzing you. He’d decided just to let you slow dance with him.

Your head resting on his chest, and your deft hand in his—, something changed at that moment.

He knew you both felt it, a spark of some kind. And if five years in future “Waltz of the Flowers” was the song he chose for a wedding, it would only mean so much to you.

—

this probably SOOO ooc i have no clue how to write babydoll 😖

(pookie bear 🐻 ⬇️)

[lamoobsessions]

Ideal Date

Celebrity AU: Hazel Callahan x (fem)Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: no use of y/n, very breif mentions of sex, unwanted touch (just wrist grabbing), Hazel is kind of a loser.

A/N: Very loosely inspired by the song 'boyfrined,' by Dove Cameron. I say loosely because the song's essence isn't really there, you know what I mean? It's more of a idiots in love vibe, than anything. Anyway, this is my first Hazel fic, so I hoped I captured her character well 🙏

· ─────────── ·

The idea of a gala is a lot more exciting than the execution, or at least, that’s what Hazel was beginning to think. There isn’t much to do, aside form eat food, down a few drinks, and participate in some auction; which, come to think of it, she has no idea what this gala is fundraising. Whatever organziation sponsored the event, Hazel didn’t know it. She probably should, but she simply didn’t check the invite. The moment she heard you’d be here, there was no second thought about it, she was going. And at first she was excited. 

It’s an indoor event, held in some big extravagant ballroom with shiny marble floors and dazzling chandeliers. The food is terrific, the drinks are delicious, and the DJ must have rent to pay because they were playing all the right songs. It was all going so well.

 But then you showed up with him, James Watsky, your annoyingly handsom co-star in some new upcoming action movie -She didn’t know the details of it, once there were rumors of a scandalous sex scene in the film, she never botherd looking into it too much. All she knew was that you looked great in the trailers. Your hair pinned up high, your shorts cut low, your tank top dirty with grime, and your plush lips bloodied and busted, how could someone pull off a look like that so well? As many other celebrities have experienced, there was a rumor you sold your soul for the fame, and as much as Hazel believed those rumors were only made to take away the credit from a woman’s success, she was beginning to think maybe you did. But not for the fame, but for beauty. In her eyes, it was unreal, a celestial-like beauty. 

Not only were you beautiful, but you were a joy to be around. 

The first time Hazel had the privilege of working with you was when she helped co-write for an episode of a sitcom series you had a part in. It was during the first uptick of your career, so the producers finally let you direct an episode yourself. Having no experience in screenwriting, you were sent to Hazel for help. Together, the two of you made one of the most beloved episodes of the whole series. 

The second time Hazel had the privilege of working with you was just after the series finale, and the contract tying you down to the series was terminated. To her delight, you called her up that same day and asked if she wanted to produce a movie with you -On the one condition that she starred in it with you. She agreed, though hesitantly at first. Hazel didn’t know if she’d like the spotlight. Sitting behind the scenes, re-writing dialogue, and tweaking a few storylines was more her pace. At least, that’s what she thought at first, til you came along and showed her her full potential. You were one of the few people in Hazel’s life to actually believe in her work. 

And that movie changed everything. 

She started booking more writing gigs, more acting gigs, more interviews. At first it was overwhelming, but it grew on her, and with that grew your friendship. The public loved it, the press loved it, casting crews loved it. It was a win-win all around, but Hazel wanted more. And just as she began to realize that, this whole action movie came up and took away most of your time. 

The two of you have rarely talked since, only on rare occasions like these -immense, pretentious, and excessive events that drained her social battery the second she walked through the door. 

But you were here, and it’s been three years since you’ve started that movie (production was a bitch). Now, it felt as if you were out of reach, like she was back at square one, watching the celebrity she admired most as a mere fan.

Hazel didn’t think it would hurt so much seeing you here. She missed you more than she thought she did. You in your long, satin dress that hugged your waist so well. You wearing that annoyingly infectious smile that never seemed to die down. You with your graciously pinned up hair that she was sure would be the softest thing she could ever touch.  

And still, even with your classic beauty and genial personality, you showed up with him. The douches of all douches. It hurt her to see you with him. It ached her to see you sat with your arm linked with his, as you sipped your cocktail with a smile.

Actually, it was beginning to annoy her. Why him? You could do so much better than him. Why did it have to him, of all people? What did he offer? What did he have that she didn’t? She could be a better gentleman than him, Hazel was sure of that. 

No, she wasn’t sad anymore, she was angry. Whether it be at herself for not making a move sooner, or at him from stealing you from her, or at you for being with someone like him. It didn’t matter who exactly she was mad at, all that mattered was that she was pissed. Even more pissed when she noticed your date grabbing your wrist. 

You and him were at one of the formal tables, your chairs faceing the dance floor, as he desperately tried to pull you off your seat, presumably for a dance. You seemed steadfast in your decision to stay put. But still, he didn’t relent, he tugged and pulled, as his face grew warmer with frustration. You were just as stubborn, shaking your head and trying to keep your cool with an unsteadily calm expression. Finally, the man gave in, throwing his hands up in frustration, he stormed off. 

At first, Hazel thought he was running off to get a drink, but no, he was leaving. Full-on exiting the gala. In a matter of seconds he brushed past Hazel’s shoulder, and walked out the door. All of it because you wouldn’t dance with him.

Averting her attention back to you, you seemed almost unfazed. Your eyes glued to your phone as you pressed rapidly against the screen. Okay, maybe you weren’t unfazed, you looked just as pissed as Hazel felt moments ago. 

She wasn’t sure what to do. Should she approach you? Is it even her place to try to comfort you? The two of you weren’t even that kind of close anymore, would you find it too up-front? 

You were upset, that much was obvious, and Hazel wanted to fix that, fix your friendship. It didn’t matter if it would escalates into more, she just wanted her best friend back. 

It took two shots of tequila to do it, but she finally stepped in your direction and made her way toward your table. You were still typing away at your phone, too much in a world of your own to notice Hazel right in front of you. 

“Rough night?” she asked, immdeianlty pulling in your attention.

“Oh my god, Hazel,” your expression switched, a smile now beaming from your lips. It made her want to melt on the spot. “It’s so good to see you. I was hoping you’d be here.”

“Yeah?”

You hum, nodding happily, as you pat the seat next to you, to which Hazel obliged. “I’m sorry we haven’t talked much. I’ve been meaning to reach out, but you know… work stuff.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I haven’t been reaching out much either, so…”

“Well, let’s not let it happen again, yeah? You’re like… one of the very few people in this industry I actually like.”

Hazel bites back a smile, hoping to prevent it from growing any bigger. It was becoming more and more evident as each moment passed, none of the feelings she felt for you before have diminished. Even after all this time, everything still felt so fresh. She still loved you.

She just had no idea where she wanted this to go. It’s been three years since your friendship changed, yet she still felt the same way. She still felt those same flutters in her stomach. 

“I’m… really glad you’re here.” Your words sound much more soft, much more fervent than your previously chipper tone. “Honeslty, you’re the only reason I came.”

Hazel felt stunned for a moment. She didn’t want to read too much into your implications, it’s been a while since you two have gotten to talk one-on-one. But to hear your soft, sincere tone again was a lost treasure Hazel hadn’t known she lost. 

“I thought your date would be the reason you came.” she teases.

You huff a laugh, leaning into your seat. “No, he’s- uh… definitely not my ideal date.”

“Who’s your ideal date then?” Hazel didn’t know what she wanted in an answer. She didn’t know what to expect either. 

You turn to her with a shy grin plastered on your lips, one that Hazel couldn’t quite read. “It’s a secret.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you hum smugly. 

“If I guess right, will you tell me?”

“You’re not going to guess.”

“What if I do?”

“You’re not going to,”

“But what if?”

You narrow your eyes, brushing them over her expression, as if trying to determine something. You were so close, if Hazel just leaned in just a little, she could close the space between you two. It was tempting, very tempting. 

“Fine,” You resort, leaning back into your chair. “If you guess right, I’ll tell you.”

Hazel’s smile grows steadily, though she couldn’t be more nervous. Truthfully, she didn’t want to know your ideal date, because she knew it wouldn’t be her. But if this little game you two were playing would re-kindle your lost friendship, she’d do it. She’d do it all night if that’s what it took. 

Her eyes dart around the room, glancing over all the potential competitors. With her distraction, she hadn’t noticed your eyes glued to her, watching as she inspects the party.  

“Christopher,” She guesses.

“Which one? There are like fifty of them here.”

“Christopher Chapesky,”

“Nope,”

“Christopher Paulmer,”

“Nope,” 

“Christopher Liam.”

“Nope.”

“Is it any of the Chris's?”

“That’s cheating, you’ll elimanate half the party suggesting that name.”

“So, it isn’t any of them?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “No, you’re way off base.”

“So, you’re not into Chris’s. Got it.”

“I’m just not into egomaniacs.”

Hazel falls into the seat with a flail of her arms. “What? But that’s like, the whole party.”

You shrug, “There are a few gems.”

Finally, Hazel looks to you. Her deadpan expression immediately flips upon finding your gaze already on her. That same gentle, hazy expression, staring back at her, you felt so easy to subdue to. If she stared at you too long, she’d surely get lost. Time would become irrelevant, the world would stop spinning, nothing around her would be able to pull her back out. It’s a dangerous game she has herself in. Afraid to get too drawn in, she seeks refuge looking back to the crowd. 

“Do I at least know them?” She questions. 

A silence fills your end, there is no response.

Hazel, calls your name, to find you staring down at your hands, twisting and turning your rings nervously. Til, you snap out of your daze, meeting her questioning stare. “Sorry?”

“Do I know them?”

“Oh… yeah.” you nod. “You know them, pretty well actually.”

Hazel didn’t know many people at this gala. The people she did know, she only knew in passing. So, who else was here that she knew ‘pretty well’? 

“Okay…” Hazel sighs, wanting to give up. The game was turning into torment, no person she named would make her feel better. She wanted it to be her. 

“I told you, you’re not going to guess.”

“Yeah,” Hazel huffs, crossing her arms. “I’m beginning to think you’re right.”

“Always am,” You joke, nudging her side. 

She puts her tongue to her cheek, shaking her head disapprovingly. 

She didn’t know, but that look on her drove you crazy. Hazel never caught your longing glances, you were strategic with them -well, ususally. There were rare occasion where you were caught, but she never questioned them. 

Though, there’s something about her tonight. Her pristine fitting suit, her perfectly shaped hair, her sly, chasing tone. Mentally, you’ve mapped all her features. You admired them all the way from the moles on the back of her neck, to the small curvature in her nose. She was impossible not to stare at.

Your phone vibrated on the table, pulling you out of your prolonged glance. It was your manager. You exhale your disappointment. Nodding to Hazel to excuse you, as you accept the call. 

“Hey,” You greet with an even tone. 

Hazel saw the contact name, but she didn’t need to know it was your manager to sense your immediate discomfort. 

“He was being an ass and I wouldn’t take it, so he left.” You remark, as your leg began to tap up and down nervously by your chair. “I wasn’t going to tolerate it. He can’t just… I know, I’m sorry… well he shouldn’t have… no, I know… I know…”

She tried to listen to what your manager could be saying, but over all the music and the chattering commotion, it was near impossible. Whatever it was, she knew it had something to do with that James Watsky guy you were seeing. Why your manager cared, she didn’t know. 

“Look, i’m still at the gala, so I can’t really talk about it right now… well, he’s the one that left, I didn’t tell him to leave…I couldn’t have made him stay if I tried. It would’ve only made things worse…fine, that’s fine. Just…call me later, then… Okay, bye.”

You end the call, leaning your head back over the seat with a groan. 

“Everything okay?” Hazel asked. 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You apologizde, grabbing your drink off the table to take a few swigs. “I hired a new manager recently, and he’s… kind of the worst honestly.”

“Why don’t you drop him?”

“I can’t. Signed a contract, I’m stuck with him til the end of the year.” 

“Damn, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” You say, a smile retuning to your lips. “He’ll probably drop me anyways, which isn’t a bad thing, cause that’s the only way I’ll probably get out this mess soon.”

Hazel could didn’t want to pry, knowing you probably didn’t want to talk about it. Not here, not now. You were at a gala after all, weren’t these things supposed to be fun? 

An idea popped into her head, one that could get your manager to drop you in an instant. She told herself it was solely for you, that there were no selfish intentions behind it. Though, she wasn’t fooling herself one bit. 

“Do you wanna dance?”

“What?” you asked with a smile. You heard her perfectly clear, but, admittedly, you wanted to hear her say it again. 

“Do you wanna dance?”

Suppressing an embarrassingly wide grin, you bit down your lips and nod. 

Hazel stands and holds out a hand, her sliver rings gleaming under the chandelier lights. In that moment, you really do wonder if looks can kill. 

Her hand is cold to the touch, as she guides you through the main floor. In your eyes, she couldn’t seem less nonchalant about it, but in reality, Hazel’s heart pounded in her ears. She never danced with anyone before, not in the way everyone else was dancing with their partners. The last time she checked the dance floor, the moves were loose, uncoordinated. No one danced with any sort of plan, they just moved. But now, step after step, they swayed with elegance in their every move. Slow, suave music carrying their motions. 

Hazel placed her hands on your waist, simultaneously steadying her tremble. Your hands met her shoulders, and finally, you could see through her calm facade.  

“You never slow dance before?” You ask with a subtle simper.

“No,” she laughs breathily. 

“that’s okay, I’ll lead.” You gently place your hand on hers, lifting it from your waist and interlocking your fingers. Hazel watches you intently, her eyes trailing from your hands, to your waist, to your lips, til finally, she meets your careful gaze. 

You begin to sway your hips, hoping to initiate some movement. Though, Hazel was enamored, nervous and stiff beyond repair. Her feet felt rooted to the floor, she hesitated before even thinking to move. Yet, with the gentle music and your attentive touch, she began to settle her stiff form, and follow your lead. With each slow step, left to right, front to back, you fall into form. 

Hazel and you have always walked a thin line between intimacy and amity. At times, it felt restraining, like you were stepping on egg shells around each other. But now, it felt like balancing on a tight rope, teetering with hitched breathes, as you sway side to side. 

There were moments you wanted to push her away, as if simply being around her felt like too much. But, in that same sense, you wanted to pull her closer. You wanted to pull her close and never let go. 

And Hazel couldn’t keep her eyes off you. You were intoxicating, especially in that dress. It made her want to inhale your very essence, like it was her oxygen. Bewitched, enthralled, fascinated, charmed, you name it. Hazel was all of the above. 

Moments pass, and not a single word has been uttered. There was a silent understanding that if anything was spoken, it would break the threshold. If this was intimate or platonic, that very concept would be revealed the moment either of you decided to speak. So, neither of you did. Instead, the both of you reveled in this small bubble of time, wishing it would never burst. 

Slowly, as the dance progressed, the two of you drifted closer. You found Hazel’s chest pressed to yours, and your chin tucked under her shoulder. In the back of your mind, you can see the nosey rumors, the catchy headlines, the snarky articles. Surely, your manager would drop you after this. But, in a freeing sort of way, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. None of that mattered, not when Hazel was finally back in your life. 

The past three years have been hell, though nothing in those recent years could top being with her. To be in her arms again felt liberating. Even now, you felt the same giddiness you felt the day you met her. It’s like you jumped right back to where you were before with eachother. Nothing had changed, not even the intense surge of adrenaline you got around her. That never left. 

“You know it was only a PR thing, right?” you say, feeling the sudden urge to inform her.

Hazel pulls back, her eyes looking down at you. “What?”

“James, he wasn’t a real date.”

“Oh,” the weight that had been sitting on Hazel’s shoulders since she saw you with him,  finally lifted.”Right, yeah, I knew that.”

She did not in fact know that.  

“I would never go out with someone like him,” you admit, hopelessly attempting to drop all the hints you could. “I mean, I would prefer not going out with men in the first place, so…”

Very briefly, her eys dart to your lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You breath. Whenever she said stuff like that it made you feel like a giddy schoolgirl with a stupid crush. It was much more than that of course, but she made your stomach flip all the same. 

“So, your ideal date is a woman?”

“Precisely.”

“How long were you going to let me list off half the men in this room?” she laughs. 

“Well, I was pretty amused by it, so… forever maybe?”

She playfully rolls her eyes, “You’re the worst.”

“Aw, you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” She dismisses. 

You don’t know when it happened, but Hazel had taken the lead, and suddenly, you were following her steps on the dance floor. 

“You really want to know who my Ideal date is?”

“I don’t know,” Hazel sighs, her demeanor suddenly switching. The idea of you wanting someone else devastated her. She felt nervous all over again. “Do I?”

“I think you do,” your voice is barely over a whisper, but Hazel still heard your words clearly, and that lifted her confidence just a little. “She’s sweet…charming…funny,” You list each factor, hoping your voice didn’t tremble as much as your hands did. “She has short, brown hair, soft blue eyes, a nice smile. She’s an okay dancer, I guess. But you know, she didn’t have the best teacher…”

The rest of the words get caught in the back of your throat, as Hazel’s hand untangles from yours, and meets your jaw instead. She had heard enough by then, and with her enraptured stare boring into yours, the gap between you two closed and your lips locked. A fit of sparks burst in your chest, as Hazel’s one hand on your waist tightens its grip, further deepening the kiss. It’s slow, soft, and gentle with each tug of her lips. 

You’re positive no durg or substance could ever achieve a high equivalent this one. Her mere touch made you feel impossibly lighter. 

“You’re my ideal date too, by the way.” She utters against your lips. 

“Good,” A light laughter escapes you, before you pulled her in once more. 

Her lips curved upward, as both her hands travel from your neck to you hair, tangling her fingers in the loose strands. She wasn’t sure where her body started and where yours ended. It felt as if you had consumed her whole, that the two of you are now of one being. She had been waiting for this moment for so long, never had she thought you would feel so good. 

She couldn’t believe she had at one point regretted coming here. She almost went home. But, god was she glad she didn’t, cause you were here, in her arms, kissing her. Hazel had changed her mind, maybe these gala things weren’t so bad. 

[johnlockrdj]

During both movies, we can see all feelings Holmes went through after Watson's engagement and marriage:

1)He was very jealous in the first movie and he tried everything to convince Watson to stay with him(he informed him that Mary was engaged before, then hired a gypsie to convince him that he shouldn't marry)

2)Gradually he accepted Watson's marriage in the end of the first movie, because he knew that they will marry

3)During the second movie he fully accepted John's marriage but he was totally sad. It was obvious that he unwillingly had to accept it. Holmes was trying to convince himself that he is happy that John has found his love.He felt himself responsible to arrange the stag-party and the wedding as a friend, but he couldn't be happy because he loved him very much. It was clear in the beggining of GoS that Holmes was trying to suppress his love and pretend to be happy. But his feelings were so great that he couldn't hide it anymore, so he left the wedding early.

4)But when Moriarty threatened Watson's life, Holmes knew that he had to intrude their honeymoon. And he used it as a great reason to try and convince Watson to stay with him again. But he also did it to protect Watson(because he knew that Moriarty will try to hurt him again). And at that moment, Holmes felt that his love for Watson arouse again. Also he wanted Watson to be with him because he already knew that he will probably die, so he wanted to spend his last month with Watson(and it was like a honeymoon to Holmes, as he said himself)On that month Holmes didn't suppress his love for Watson. But he also had to stop the war,so he kinda mixed love and work. And in the ball in Reichenbach he was almost 100% sure that he will have to die to keep Watson safe, so he wanted to have his last memory of his only love. And that was the reason he danced with Watson(if Holmes just wanted to discuss the plan secretly, he could have just walked through the ballroom with Watson and showed the man and it would be much more unnoticed) Some people can say, that he had done the same with Simza, but I disagree. Holmes danced with Simza because it was easier and more unnoticable to observe the room Also he almost wasn't looking at Simza, while in the dance with Watson he looked at him more frequently and even if they were talking seriously, Holmes' eyes were looking at Watson lovingly. And also he even complimented Watson for his dance("Who taught you how to dance?"), which meant that he payed attention to their dance and was enjoying it. After the dance, Holmes was trying very hard to not give away his real plan of sacrificing himself(he was literally trembling when he was talking to Watson) And then he left his love and went to meet Moriarty and carry out his plan. And there comes my favorite and also the saddest moment in GoS: Holmes was about to throw himself to the cliff with Moriarty, when Watson came right at that moment. I cry every time I remember that scene! The look on Holmes' eyes... He was shocked a little, because he didn't want Watson to see that. But then there were love , care and sadness in his eyes as he closed them, so that the last thing he sees is his only true love, the person whom he loves more than himself- his dearest Watson...

I have never been so emotional in my whole life until I watched Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes. This movie is the best movie ever made!

(By the way, I just noticed that I wrote a lot. So sorry for the length)

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Wandee Goodday Episode 8

In which we have many confessions (both wanted and unwanted), further (mis)communications and the sweetest proposal scene in BL land.

First thing, YeiCher owned this episode. These 2 just complement each other superbly. I’m sure we will see some conflict down the road with Yei hiding the debt of their boxing gym from Cher, but for now, I’m basking in joy with the fact we have YeiCher being formally engaged in a timely fashion to commerate with the Thai senate officially passing the bill to allow marriage equality in real life!

As for our YakDee…I’m a bit confused. Look, I am thrilled they made up quickly - Yak giving back that ugly necklace (it’s not to my aesthetic taste but I am definitely glad it made it back to Dee’s neck!), Dee informing Yak he no longer has any feelings for Dr Terrible plus Yak sweetly informing Dee “this hottest and most dashing boxer is yours.”

So…WHY ARE THEY STILL IN A FAKE BF relationship?? I initially thought I might have misunderstood the whole thing. However, when Dee asked Yak to accompany him to the hospital anniversary ball - Yak said “again?” And Dee saying otherwise he would accept Dr Terrible invitation to the ball.

And what made it clear these 2 adorkable idiots have yet to re-define their relationship properly is the conversation between Dee and his wise grandmother - she sensibly asked whether YakDee is still just FWB? And Dee said there is a dateline to their relationship? Maybe someone who is cleverer than me can explain this? - is it cause Dee is angling for the scholarship and thought he would have to leave Yak anyway??

Cause why will you cook for him, dry his hair, massage his aching legs in front of the whole gym, learn how to slow dance, take him to a fancy costume place and pick up a matching grooms outfit if you are both not in love with each other???

Despite my confusion about their relationship status, I did love the whole ballroom scene - from Yak dashing in last minute in time to ask for his prince for the dance, YakDee slow dancing and Yak finally confessing in words that he is in love with Dee. Does that mean they will finally be real boyfriends next episode? (Although from the preview, they are STILL NOT together as real boyfriends?)

Dr Terrible remains shameless and desperate. If I’m not mistaken, Dee rejected him 3 times in this episode alone - when he indirectly decline Terrible’s invitation to the ball by expressing he will be bringing his significant other, saying no when Terrible said he will dance with Dee because of Yak non-presence at the ball. And when that did not deter Terrible (he tried to kiss Dee! 😤), Dee bluntly say he has outgrown Terrible and only regards him as an older brother. However, Terrible has yet to learn his lesson - he left his date (Dr Khwan you deserves better) to again try his luck with Dee. So, I’m glad it seems Dr Khawn left him after Yak timely arrival to save his prince from the evil clutch of Terrible.

As for Taemrak, I do feel bad for her. It’s clear now she does have some feelings for Yak. I think pre-Dee, Taemrak might have taken for granted of Yak’s friendship and affection for her. He was always there for her with his easy banter. But with Dee around, Yak no longer txt/msg/meet up with her beyond school. Nevertheless, I’m glad she still trust Yak to come for her aid (although I must say, what a plot twist - didn’t think Ohm will be so nasty. And Yak, couldn’t you have told Dee why you had to leave him suddenly before the ball??) Like I say, (mis)communication seems to be the theme of this episode.

Overall, I like the episode. I was hoping for more of Dr Kao though, but YeiCher sweet scenes made up for Dr Kao’s absence. And 2 big thumbs up 👍 from me for their ongoing PSA re: HPV vaccine! ❤️

Bring on episode 9!

[actual-changeling]

@kayleefansposts

because i am the chem major and scientist i am, i present to you: evidence that the window the demons break was fixed either by aziraphale himself or by crowley when he undid the changes aziraphale made for the ball. i do not make unfounded claims.

the first question we need to answer is which window got broken?

there are only two options, the display windows on either side of the door. they are the only windows big enough to fit the one we see getting smashed and the only ones that are explicitly named on the floorplan. and yes, these are the official floorplans the person who was part of the bookshop to ballroom transformation team posted on instagram.

now, which of the two was the unlucky one?

if we have a look at the scene itself, the camera angles are, in fact, not entirely clear on which window got broken. but this is where the floorplans for the bookshop post transformation come in. we get this wonderful shot of crowley and aziraphale looking at the concrete slab they threw through it.

behind crowley, and most importantly, on his right/our left, you can see the spiral staircase that leads up into the flat above the shop. the arrow is pointing towards w for window, they're still looking at the slab because they do not move between the shot of them reading it and this one.

so if we now have a look at the floorplan, we can draw a line straight through the shop based on crowley's position and voila. there is only one option left for which window it could have been. it is impossible based on their positioning that it was the other window.

and while it is hard to read, i think the blob on the floor labeled "***** slab" is a pretty good indicator too, i'd say.

additionally, you can also see that the other display window is blocked by a bookcase, so it couldn't have been that one. it has to be the one left of the entrance, viewed from the outside looking in.

now, because i am thorough, some more evidence before we get to the fixing part.

firstly, evidence that the other window is intact and not broken. we get some more shots of crowley and aziraphale from inside the bookshop looking out, which confirm not only their positioning but ALSO show us part of the other display window.

as you can see, it's intact.

secondly, my final piece of evidence that this particular window got broken: gabriel leaving the bookshop right after.

the one left of the entrance is broken, the other one intact, like i said.

the question that remains is when did it get fixed? so let's look at some more shots of the window in chronological order. you can go through the episodes yourself if you want, but i sorted them and gave a little indicator of the time frame.

ending of episode five and beginning of episode six?

nope, still broken

maybe aziraphale fixes it during or after the fight?

nope, it is still broken when crowley comes back from heaven with the angels in tow.

muriel stands next to the broken window pretty much the entire time.

alright, so maybe aziraphale fixes it after gabriel and beez leave or when the metatron shows up?

nope, it's still broken when aziraphale leaves with the metatron for their talk.

so now we're a bit out of options, aren't we? the only people left in the bookshop are crowley and muriel.

do you want the know the first time we see the window whole again? because we DO see it intact and very much not broken. which is AFTER crowley undid aziraphale's ball transformation, covered the circle, and fixed the window.

it is intact when nina and maggie leave. the ONLY person who had both the chance, the powers, and the time to fix that window was crowley. and he fix it he did.

and, lastly, a wonderful shot from the outside to show us the fixed window from a different perspective.

tl;dr i was right and crowley fixed the window, it is no longer broken by the time they have their final argument.

if anyone has a different explanation with new evidence i'd love to see it, but i am 100% sure that this is how and when it happened, and canon confirms it.

thank you and you're welcome.

[the-boney-rolls]

The Great Covid Beatles Binge, Day 2: Give My Regards to Broad Street

Hoo boy, here we go!

OK so we open with a stern/bored looking Paul stuck in traffic in the rain and it looks like he's spacing out... hey, Paul, are you starting to daydream? Paul? Is this whole movie about to be a dream, Paul? Oh god

This silly little car! The computer, the carpet, the pool ball gear shift. It's giving the 80's car version of the Beatles house in Help! It's also giving hyper-masculine in a way that is, I'm sorry, not convincing.

This plot is already deeply inscrutable. Something about some missing tapes, a reformed criminal that Paul knows somehow and trusts for some reason, and some ominous business men. Something bad will happen at midnight if the tapes aren't found. OK!

Ringo looks so cool and hot! That vest over that sick as hell dragon shirt. Yes. This scene is genuinely funny, too -- Ringo spends the entirety of "Here, There and Everywhere" and "Yesterday" searching through his mountains of drum equipment looking for brushes, only to find them too late. Apparently, the reason for this scene is that Ringo just didn't want to re-record old Beatles songs!

And now we have Paul, Ringo, George Martin and Geoff Emerick all together in a scene! Makes me think about how George Harrison apparently was a little miffed Paul didn't just call him to ask for filmmaking advice since it was something he had experience with. What could have been!

“Wanderlust” is such a great song, actually, damn.

“I’m not a bad boy, really. I’m just — er, manipulated” John??

Now this is more like it! Surprise Linda in drag, hell yes!

I don't know why this scene is happening? It's a rehearsal for... something? But I'll take it. I love "Ballroom Dancing" and I love vaudeville Paul.

I'm starting to feel like Paul's grandpa in AHDN, "so far, I've been in a train and a room, and a car and a room, and a room and a room." Did Paul's experience on that set define what a movie is to him? "Ah yes, a movie must include lots of transportation from one location to another and then some musical scenes." But dear, it worked because there were jokes! And all four of you to play off each other.

I.......... what

This is Silly Love Songs, of all things!

Again, I don't know why this scene is happening in the context of the movie. Is it another rehearsal for something? A music video? Television special? Who knows, Yoko! But OK here we go, I sure am having fun! Linda is extremely into it. That slap bass kills. There's a Michael Jackson impersonator for some reason? Sure! It makes no sense but I love this man and his bizarre beautiful mind.

So now we're doing band rehearsal in some kind of barn? Or abandoned warehouse? Or something? All of the plot of this movie seems to happen in dialog in cars en route to some ambiguous musical engagement.

“Do you think we can get some heat in here or are we practicing to be Canadians?” God bless you, Ringo.

“Should we try Not Such a Bad Boy” “Do we have to?” “Yeah” Bossy Paul bosses around a Beatle, we love to see it.

Is this song about him or John? 

The French horn player coming in late to record "For No One," inexplicably in a bright red motorcycle helmet, so late that he’s preparing up until right before the solo starts. Reminds me of that story of Ringo recording Hey Jude. But it also feels very symbolic of something. There are so many odd inscrutable details in this movie, it could almost be Lynchian in someone else's hands.

“We’re running, and running out of time too” It feels meaningful but I don't know how.

Hello Mr. Darcy! Wow, can I have an entire movie that’s just this Victorian dream sequence? Can we go back in time and do a Beatles movie period piece, please??

The strings in this which are inspired by but are not quite "Eleanor Rigby" are lovely. Apparently this whole sequence is called "Eleanor's Dream," which implies that Paul is Eleanor. Make of that what you will, I suppose.

I like that Linda is a pants-wearing photographer in this period scene. Linda's gotta Linda.

This strikes me as very Evil Beatles. Again, make of that what you will.

Barbara and Linda are acting the HELL out of this going over the waterfall scene damn.

I don't know, I could screen grab this entire segment, it's amazing, it's insane.

But I can't gloss over Paul being horny for Ghost Horse Girl Linda. Incredible.

"That’s it you’re finished. What are you gonna do now?" Well ok at least this one is pretty obviously a reference to the critical reception of his career after the Beatles and again after John.

"Uncle Jim" Ok so I guess this is supposed to be his dad, but what is the point of this scene? And why the monkey? The further I get into this film the more I feel like I am looking deep into this man's psyche but through the murkiest of windows. I'm here for the weird dream symbolism, Paul, but if you're gonna go that route, again go full Lynch and get even weirder.

Just the straight up original recording of "Band on the Run" feels out of place with all these re-records. I wonder why that choice.

His car license plate is "PM 1" That's right, baby, you're number 1.

Another little cute but inconsequential day dream (presumably within the dream that is this entire movie). He looks like Roy Orbison here.

Oh ok Harry was just locked in a cupboard this whole time. So the whole "plot" was pointless. Cool cool cool.

Paul and Harry being giddy and laughing together is cute though, and it makes me wish that that relationship was fleshed out more. Who are they to each other, exactly??

Yup it was all a dream. Love it, love that for us. Thanks, Paul.

OK so this was definitely barely a movie. There could have been something here, but I'll go back to what I said above -- I wish he'd gone weirder with the whole thing! And I wish Paul himself had been weirder. The character Paul is kind of a dud, just plodding along from place to place and only coming alive when he performs. It's like that Hawaiian shirt is supposed to be a stand in for characterization. But worth it for the music video scenes and for getting a tiny glimpse into Paul's psyche.

[diabolikk-loverss23]

~~Just a lil scenario involving my fav I made while listening to music~~😗 (TW: IMPLIED DRUGGING)

The last thing you remember is drinking a warm cup of chamomile tea Reiji had given you.. Next thing you know, you're waking up on a soft bed that you did not recognize. You had a drifty feeling settling over you. It felt as if you were hovering above your body, watching it feel around the soft covers. As you looked around, you noticed your surroundings looked fake. Everything had a dreamy white filter coming off of it.

Were you dreaming?

Standing was a difficult task: your legs felt shaky and unstable, and balance was definitely not your strong point right now. You wobbled over to a grand looking mirror beside the bed, and there you saw it. A luxurious black and royal blue dress with a string of pearls around your neck. Your neck that suspiciously had a set of fang marks carved into it. Shuddering, you ran your hand over the mark, feeling the puncture marks intently. All of a sudden, you heard boisterous laughter followed by the swell of ballroom music. Placing your hand on your head, you headed to the main door and slowly twisted the knob leading to an unfamiliar hallway. This was nothing like the Sakamaki mansion... It was even more grand, with multiple gold and silver doors and horrific statues of creatures. Walking towards the music, you saw one golden door open; allowing the music to flow through. And there he was. The man who brought you an odd sense of comfort. Clad in a dark blue and black suit, wearing those familiar white gloves, and a blue masquerade mask.

"Reiji? Where are we?"

He didn't answer. All he did was put his hand over his heart and bow, extending his other hand. Inviting you to dance almost. However, when you reached out, he disappeared. Gone in the blink of an eye.

Panic set through you as your heart started pounding against your chest. Taking shallow breaths, you shakily opened the door the music was coming from. There, you saw multiple masked figures dancing, laughing, and talking about nothing you could decipher. The whole room felt like it was spinning. The noise was all clamoring in your brain and confusing you. It felt like a weight was on your head. One so heavy all you could do was crumple to the floor. While holding your head, you saw a pair of glossy shoes stop in front of you. You craned your neck and saw Reiji again. Still silent with his red eyes piercing through yours. With no expression on his face, he offered his gloved hand for you to take. You took it graciously and held on tight. He pulled you close and let you follow his footsteps to the music. Your racing heartbeat slowed, and you leaned into his chest; breathing in the odd yet soothing smell of chamomile. You and him danced in the swarm of masked people, still hearing their giggles and feeling their occasional stares graze the two of you. It was strange. The anxiety you felt waved away when you were in Reiji's embrace. The music was loud. And the masked people there were boisterous. But all you could feel was Reiji's hard chest and his gentle hand holding yours.

After dancing for a little while more: you noticed the curtains being drawn on the windows. Revealing the biggest full moon you've ever seen. The lights went out, and that's when you noticed it. Some of the masked figures dressed in elegant gowns had the same glowing red eyes as the vampire in front of you. Reiji was still silent, looking at you with an unwavering expression. However, now those eyes were glowing a deep shade of crimson.

All around you, the masked vampires began devouring their dance partners. Screams of anguish flooded your ears, and you began to panic again. Your breathing increased, and your heart was pounding once again. The music was now the screams, and the laughter had turned sinister. The scene is completely crumbling around you. Covering your ears, you cowered into Reiji's chest. The chamomile scent is overpowered with the harsh rustiness smell of blood. Reiji's arm held you tight to his chest, while his hand made its way to your chin, forcing you to look at him. That's when you noticed his once blank expression became a twisted smile as he leaned into your neck and whispered in a deep voice that tickled.

"Wake up."

With that, you shot awake in a cold sweat. Breathing ragged. And clothing disheveled. You looked over and saw him sitting beside you on his bed, with a book open. "Finally. You're awake." His voice rang through your thoughts as you tried to steady your breathing. Closing his book, "In and out. I shouldn't have to teach you how to breathe, dear." His voice was softer this time. You shuffled next to him and put your head on his shoulder. "That was not an invitation to my personal space. Must I remind you this is my bed?" He chuckled a bit while you wordlessly put your hand on his face. "Reiji...?" He peered down at your hopeless expression, "Yes? What is it?"

You looked directly in his eyes and whispered out,

"Are you gonna eat me?"

He looked at your eyes a moment before he laughed in your face. "Hey!! I'm serious!!" Attempting to slow his quiet laughter a shaky, "Apologies" rang out between his hand he put over his mouth. Clearing his throat, he answered. "Your blood is delectable. It's so refined that it's almost like a wine with how it goes down my throat. I've 'ate' you many times." Accepting his answer, you laid back down beside him, and he followed. You reached out and touched his chest. Feeling for a heartbeat. "My heart doesn't beat, dear. I'm not a human." You quietly responded, "Oh, right..." He pulled you in close to his chest, "See? nothing." You nodded and cuddled in closer, reveling in his scent that was no longer chamomile but books and his tea. A sigh of relief flowed from your lips as his other hand rubbed gentle circles into your back. "I'll have to write the effects of this drug later... Being overly affectionate and night terrors are interesting side effects of the toxin..." You sighed again, this time out of frustration, but that's about all you could do after a wave of drowsiness hit you. His quiet laughter rang out again. "Goodnight, dear.."

~~•~~~~~~~•~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~•~~

Hope y'all enjoyed :3

I am very very normal about this man.. :3 I might post more oneshots later... idk tho.. so treasure this! -author