#i think the only thing that i am happy to see is that barely anybody liked this and they’re getting cooked in the qrts

[inchidentalmeowmeow]

This person on f1twt really be making fun of Charles losing his dad and Jules and go like “oof lecfosi found me 🙄” like lecfosi are the ones being unreasonable.

[adhderall]

well as you can see besides being ugly as all fuck I'm also extremely bitter so that doesn't help at all in making me appealing. but it also comes with the territory you see, being treated as a hideous freak of nature for your whole life kind of does things to your psyche.

also going into shit in the tags as an extreeeemely jaded individual who's been on every side of the discourse and KNOWS it all VERY PERSONALLY so I know many people will find all sorts of different reasons to hate me (if they want ig) because I'm ~politically homeless~ at this point because I'm sick and tired of everything but whatever

(also fuck I ran out of space in the tags so another post maybe idk. )

[luveline]

jade i was wondering if i could request smth where steve and his gf are out and he leaves really quick to go do something and when he comes back he see his girl crying, so he gets all worried and protective, but later realizes she’s crying happy tears?

i hope that made some sense. tysm!! i LOVE your writing

“You’re not close enough,” Steve says. He’s annoyed, just a smidge, but nothing with malice as he wraps his arm around you to tug you into frame. “I’ve only got so many.” 

“Stop complaining,” you say, shuffling as flush to his side as you can be. 

Steve smells like heaven. He has nice arms, a better smile, and he’s pressing a grin to your cheek as he turns the camera to take your photo. It’s hard to do it back to front, but nobody’s around to take the photograph for you. 

It flashes. The Polaroid pops out with a chug, though the picture has yet to develop. 

“Camera’s should come with more film,” you say, blinking the shock of the flash from your pupils. A white ring stays floating in the air, kissing his nose as you turn toward him again. 

“Camera’s should have unlimited film. How the fuck am I supposed to take enough photos of you if every one costs ten cents? I’ll be broke by August.” 

Steve puts the camera down. He’s in sweatpants and a hoodie, your favourite outfit on him. You fell in love with the idiot who wears tight jeans and polos, but you stay in love with the guy he is in the evenings, when he gets on the line begging you to come over, to move in, to see yourself to his hip and stay forever. It’s more than encouraging to be liked loudly. I love you’s are new between you and he doesn’t seem to notice, he passes them out like candy. Broke the dam and can’t stop saying it. 

“And it’ll be okay,” he says, taking your fave into both hands. “‘Cos shit, I love you.” 

“I love you,” you say softly. 

He grins. A tender kiss is interrupted before it can occur, shocked out of happening by the landline ringing on the wall. “Shit, that might be Robin. I’ll be right back,” he promises. 

He tumbles off of the couch to rush to the kitchen where the phone rings, and you sit there with your heart pounding, wondering how you got this lucky. You always thought you’d never be loved, that there was something fundamentally wrong with you that stopped affection in its tracks. Then you met Steve, and he’s been unapologetic about how much he wants you. He asked for a date ten minutes after you met, another one when the first was barely over. Things went so well he didn’t have to ask you to be his girlfriend, he just sort of stuck to you like he’d been glued on, but he did ask eventually, and the answer (undoubtedly a yes) had seemed to shock him anyway. 

Steve’s just crazy for you. 

He’s so pretty, so sweet, so funny. He doesn’t get how much of a catch he is, all that fake confidence hiding a loser who loves like breathing. 

You’re as happy as you’ve ever been in your whole life. The tears come naturally, small, warm beads that slip down your cheeks unhurried. 

You take the photo you’d just posed for and hold it up to your eye level. It’s a cheesy couple’s picture —Steve looks like he adores you, and you look like you’re burning up with joy. 

You sniff and hold the photo primly in both hands against your lap. 

“Baby?” 

You sniff again, wiping your cheeks as you turn to Steve’s concerned voice in the door. “Hey. Sorry.” 

“Don’t cry,” he says, sitting down where he’d been, couch cushion dipping under his weight. “Hey, please don’t.” 

“No, sorry.” You pass him the photo. “It’s just a really good photo.” 

He pauses. His eyes flicker between you and the photo, your wet cheeks and the frame of you with your face leaning into his kiss. 

“It’s great,” he agrees, arm behind your shoulders. “Happy tears, right? I don’t have to beat anybody up?” 

You tip your head to encourage a kiss that he gives immediately. Insanely happy tears. “You’d have to beat yourself up,” you say. 

“You think I wouldn’t? For you?” 

You laugh wetly and slouch into his arms. “Don’t be stupid.” 

“That’s my middle name. Right before Lover.” 

Steve ‘Stupid Lover’ Harrington? You laugh and demand more kisses, the kind he probably shouldn’t take a photo of. 

[inbabylontheywept]

Realizing in hindsight that the only reason I was so skeptical about your camp story is that being covered in a combination of crusty, sticky pink residue and rotten fish oil for days on end while sleeping on a wooden floor in the Arizona heat sounded like such unbearable sensory agony that I wanted to convince myself it was fake, because I didn't want to believe that anybody had genuinely been through that. I'd have walked out of that place with a rucksack of pink ooze and either find my way back to civilization or become crispy pink buzzard chow after day 2.

Like, legitimately, I think about my reaction to that post a lot. The imagery was so deeply unpleasant that I was desperately scrambling to convince myself it wasn't true like I'd just found out my spouse was a serial killer. There was no torture, no death, no hunger or disease, just a bunch of sweaty guys being covered in sticky fruit-flavored slime, subjected to unpleasant smells, and sleeping blanketless on the floor. And you can't even smell! You were spared a good third of it! Yet your experience still horrified me worse than any war story, medieval torture device or horror movie for reasons I cannot hope to fathom.

idk, I've had this ask stewing in my head for months, but I keep forgetting to actually write and send it. In my heart of hearts, I knew your story was perfectly plausible. I was just grasping at straws, praying for you to admit that no, nobody has ever showered in off-brand Gatorade and then not slept for 3 days while being expected to attend uni lectures. It's all untrue, a ruse, a trick, and such things could never happen outside of the cruelest depths of hell. Santa Claus is real, teachers live in the school, babies are delivered by storks, and the pink sauce incident never happened.

My mom pulls me into a warm hug after I scrape my knee. The plastic egg I found under the couch opens to reveal a piece of chocolate. A dollar magically appears under the pillow where I'd put my tooth. All is well. I am safe. The universe is kind, and whoever's running it loves me.

It's a sunny August day and I'm holding a popsicle on the swingset. I'm using my plastic dinosaurs to act out an improvised battle between good guys and bad guys as I sit on the carpeted floor. I'm playing Fossil Fighters on my dinged-up Nintendo DS in the plush brown armchair by the window.

I add the carrot nose to my snowman. Candy plops into my Halloween bag. The speaker on the classroom wall announces that school's out for summer, and we all bound out the door with wild glee, free at last.

Panting, wheezing, I drag my battered form back into the cobbled-together wreckage of my innocence, only one arm remaining with which to drag myself, blood and intestines trailing behind me as the storm rages overhead, washing my entrails downstream. I huddle underneath what remains of my once-pristine shelter from the cold and wet, pulling the shards back together as best I can as the wind howls angrily, hatefully. It's no use. It's broken. It's gone. It cannot be repaired. My innocence will never return to me. The rain seeps through the cracks and lands upon my face.

The rain is pink, I realize, and I cry.

First off: I haven’t actually been on the receiving end of this before and I have to say, it's an almost literally gripping experience. I felt this rat for the last three paragraphs.

Incredibly well done. Second: If you just didnt' want to believe, that's fine, I barely have room in me for medium fries - a grudge would just pour out the top, too much tea for my cup. But you don't have to like, gaslight yourself into thinking the story is totally normal and believable (I always stretch my stories out a little) or beat yourself up over it for months. I meant it when I said we're good, you and I. It still makes me happy to see a comment or a like or, rarely, a question like this from you.

If it's just something that pops into your mind every now and again, I dunno, don't sweat it. I'd hate to give you a complex. Did I mention that I loved that writing for this? Incredible experience.

[g1rld1ary]

you never disappointed me - part two

part one part two part three part four

➻ synopsis: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader ; percy and beckendorf's plan to set you up with luke is in motion, but you're extremely resistant to any advances (10 things I about you AU)

➻ word count: 3462

➻ warnings: swearing, ooc/kind of loser!luke, ooc silena, she/her pronouns used for reader, sexual innuendos

➻ thank u so much for all the love on part 1 I am such a happy gal!!!!! also, have my first day at uni tomorrow (so pls wish me luck) and sorry if updates slow down!

TAGLIST: @myxticmoon @wicca-void @leeknows-wife @thekittyxo-blog @number-onekidqueen @instabull

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It turned out that getting you to go out with Luke was harder than he’d originally anticipated. Eager for the whole ordeal to be over and for him to be 50 dollars richer, he’d hopped down from his spot on a fallen log and hurried to meet you by the volleyball courts when your match ended. You, unaware of Luke’s agenda, were fanning your face to combat some of the sweat that had accumulated, quickly tightening the messy ponytail you’d tied. Luke watched you in your own world, unbothered by anybody watching you, unlike the rest of your siblings. Sucking in a quick breath for confidence he approached you.

“Hey there, girly,” He smiled, “How’re you doing?” You looked up at him, inquisitive for a moment but ultimately unimpressed.

“Sweating like a pig actually, and yourself?” You were barely looking at him, skulling an impressive amount of your water bottle quickly. He stared at you, not expecting to be dismissed so easily. He recovered smoothly, not prepared to give up so soon.

“You really know how to get a guy’s attention, huh?”

“My mission in life,” You shot him a cloying smile, now giving him your full attention, unable to help being slightly interested by his boldness. “But obviously I’ve struck your fancy, so you see it worked. The world makes sense again.” You‘d figured out his motives now and had no interest, so began the walk back to your cabin. He followed, much to your dismay. Couldn’t men ever take the hint?

“So I’ll pick you up Friday then?”

“Oh right, Friday, uh huh.” You kept your eyes ahead, dodging a few younger kids as Luke trailed after you, annoyingly optimistic still.

“The night I take you places you’ve never been before,” He said, and you looked at him in disbelief. The ego on this kid!

“Right, like the makeout clearing in the forest? Do you even know my name, Castellan?” Luke could tell that you were mocking him, but he still had high hopes.

“I know a lot more than you think.” He smiled then, a lopsided thing that would have been somewhat charming if you’d actually bothered to look. Instead you were already walking away, calling out a “Doubtful. Very doubtful,” over your shoulder as you picked up into a run, presumably to go tell Clarisse about the bizarre experience you just had. Luke watched you go, dumbstruck in the middle of camp.

Percy and Beckendorf watched the exchange from the porch of the Hephaestus cabin, the latter putting his head in his hands dramatically.

“We’re screwed,” He groaned and Percy winced slightly.

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine, dude. Luke has faced a lot worse than a teenage girl.”

When you sat at dinner that night, desperately avoiding the eye contact Luke seemed desperate on initiating, you almost told Silena about your bizarre day. You’d opened your mouth to start the story when you realised that she’d only be encouraged by Luke’s antics, pressuring you into going out with him for her own benefit and quickly shut it. She’d noticed your odd behaviour and searched for meaning in your face. Panicking for something to replace the conversation, you zeroed in on the necklace sitting nicely on top of her camp one.

“Where’d you get the pearls?” You asked, already dreading the answer. Silena only confirmed your fears, claiming them as your grandmother’s with a coy smile.

“So what? You’ve just been hiding them the last three years?” You were always closest with your grandmother, and you were sure she wouldn’t leave her favourite pearls for Silena over you.

“Daddy found them in a drawer just before summer.” Silena shrugged as if you weren’t sitting across from her, cheeks a blotchy red in your upset. “Besides, they look good on me.” Your hands itched to hit her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, knowing exactly how much she was pissing you off.

“Trust me, they don’t,” You spat, quietly glad when Silena stalked off in a huff, amongst the first to leave the meal. You didn’t know how much longer you could argue with her before starting to cry, which you really didn’t want to do in front of the whole camp. You thought you were safe for the rest of the meal when Drew began speaking instead.

“You could try being nice sometimes, you know, people wouldn’t know what to think.” You rolled your eyes aggressively.

“You forget, I don’t care what people think,” You replied, taking in a spoonful of food.

“Yes you do. Everyone does. You know, with a new look you could have some serious potential.” You ignored her last statement.

“No, I don’t,” You emphasised, “You don’t always have to be who they want you to be.” You knew that wouldn’t impact Drew in the slightest, but you hoped it might resonate with some of your younger siblings — encourage them to nurture their internal beauty rather than accept the vain stereotype Aphrodite children were forced into. You pushed yourself out of the bench you were sitting on, needing a break from your insufferable siblings. As you dumped your dishes where they needed to be you saw Luke beginning to follow you and turned to make dead eye contact. Knowing you’d only scream at him (or worse) you gave him a dangerous look, accompanied with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. Not enough for anyone else to know you’d even acknowledged him, but enough to tell Luke to back off. He was smarter than you thought, as he held up his hands in a show of surrender, redirecting his action to innocently collect up his own dishes.

You may not have had any interest in knowing the boy, but you did appreciate that he knew when to back off. Or so you thought.

You were proven not-so-free from Luke Castellan the very next morning. It was the Aphrodite cabin’s day to check all the storerooms, and you’d volunteered to do the one which held all the weapons and armour near the sword fighting arena. You knew none of your siblings would come near if they could help it, mostly against weapons and the violence that surrounded the area, so you’d get a whole morning alone. It was peaceful attending to the chore, and you were allowed to use some of your Aphrodite eye for beauty. Of course, stacks of swords and assorted weapons could only be made so pretty, but you enjoyed organising them into neat rows, making it look as nice as possible — not that you would admit that to Silena or you’d be in her vanity chair receiving an unwelcome makeover in seconds.

You were just admiring your own sword, which you’d taken the time to polish while you were taking care of the others, when you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t react, assuming it was just some camper coming for a weapon, until he spoke.

“Nice sword, vintage hilt?” You tensed as Luke’s voice infiltrated your peace.

“Are you following me?” You disregarded his statement, an unimpressed frown present on your lips.

“I was training in the arena and needed to polish my sword. I saw you come in a while ago and not leave, I came to say hi,” He explained, and you raised an eyebrow. You weren’t friends, why would he come for a chat?

“Hi.” You promptly turned back to your task, shoving the cloth into the intricate designs of the hilt.

“Not a big talker, huh?” He persisted.

“Depends on the topic. My sword doesn’t exactly whip me into a verbal frenzy.” That wasn’t strictly true — the sword was a gift from your mother, with gold twisting around a blood red ruby in the centre of the hilt. After you’d made it clear that you weren’t going to just sit around during your time at camp she gifted you the sword, her way of saying that if you were going to fight, you should at least look good doing it. You’d had several conversations with Clarisse gushing over the intricacy of it, and profusely thanked Aphrodite for the gift in your offerings. You didn’t quite care to share this with Luke, being a relative stranger.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He asked, and you were somewhat taken aback by the earnest tone of his voice.

“Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?” You couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that crept into your sentence.

“Most people are.” He gestured subtly towards his scar — gnarled and twisted against his otherwise tanned skin. You put a hand on your hip, resigned to conversation now.

“Well, I’m not.”

“Ok, maybe you’re not afraid of me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked.” You were pretty sure Luke was going for smooth or charming, but you thought in this moment he was entirely lame. The wink didn’t help his case.

“Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.” You put on your best Drew impression, nasally and whiny, before handing him the cloth he needed to polish his own sword and turning to leave. There, quickly approaching the door, was Ethan. Seeing you he put on a disgusting smirk and blocked the doorway, effectively caging you into the storeroom.

“Gods, what is it, asshole day?” You asked, not caring that both boys could very clearly hear you. “Do you mind?” You gestured to his blocking the exit. He simply looked down at you, clearly doing his best to appear sexy (and failing miserably).

“Not at all.” His stupid smirk was going to kill you, and not in the good way. You scoffed, giving him a last chance to get the fuck out of your way. Then, sparing a fraction of a glance back to Luke pretending to mind his own business, you slammed the hilt of your sword into his foot, wishing it was the blade instead. You watched him crumble to the ground, holding his foot with both hands.

“You bitch!” He yelled, voice cracking pathetically in the middle. You forced your smile to stay contained.

“Oops,” You feigned innocence, one hands covering your mouth strategically. “You might need some ambrosia for that…” With that you side-stepped him, eager to leave the situation. If you’d have looked back, you would have seen the gleeful, disbelieving smile on Luke’s face, probably the biggest one he’d worn in a while. Although he didn’t get the date he’d entered for, he was beginning to think you were a little more interesting than you let on.

“Did you just cripple Ethan?” Silena shrieked as you entered your cabin to grab your things. “He’s a model, you can’t do that! Has it escaped your notice that you’re completely psychotic?” You pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged nonchalantly.

“Guess your long walks on the beach are gonna have to wait,” You sighed dramatically, leaving Silena to wallow in her pity alone. It wasn’t like it was really your fault — if Ethan had learned how to respond to words or learn the meaning of ‘move’ he wouldn’t have gotten himself into that situation in the first place.

Meanwhile, Ethan and Luke were having a similarly emotional conversation after Luke had — very reluctantly — helped Ethan over to the infirmary to get his foot checked out.

“When I shell out fifty, I expect results.” Luke sighed, could this boy get any whinier?

“Yeah, I’m on it,” He said through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to hurt him.

“Watching that bitch obliterate my foot doesn’t count as a date. If you don’t get any, I don’t get any, so let’s get some,” Ethan said, running a hand through his ridiculously styled hair. Luke couldn’t believe his nerve. First of all, obliterated? He would be left with a bruise for a few days, if anything. Secondly, this whole things was Ethan’s idea, Luke had never given any indication wanting to ‘get some’, especially not with someone so clearly resisting his advances. Just as Ethan left, giving the Apollo girl treating him a douchebag smile, Luke hardened his resolve.

“I just upped my price,” He said, loving the way Ethan’s eyes widened like a cartoon character. “A hundred bucks a date, in advance.”

“Forget it,” Ethan grumbled, moving to leave again.

“Forget her sister then.” The two boys stared at each other, one significantly more amused than the other. Luke knew he had the upper hand in the dynamic, something he revelled in. Then, after the intimidation tactic clearly wasn’t having any effect, Ethan reached for his wallet, Luke admiring the crisp fifty he was handed.

“You better hope you’re as smooth as you think you are, Castellan.” Luke just watched him go, confident tilt of his head conveying his outlook on the situation.

Luke had taken his usual spot overseeing combat training, but his usual thoughts were long gone. Instead, he was entirely preoccupied with you. He didn’t know how to get you to go out with him when you could barely entertain a conversation, and he twirled his cigarette between his fingers as he pondered.

Percy and Beckendorf saw his internal conflicts, slowly moving closer to him under the guise of a very chaotic fight between the two. Finally Luke gave them attention, knowing Percy’s skills would never have him running all over the place like that. He raised an eyebrow, a sign for them to get on with whatever they were angling at.

“We know what you’re trying to do, for Beauregard,” Percy said, and Luke appeared almost startled.

“And we want to help,” Added Beckendorf helpfully, shying away when Luke’s eyes bore into his.

“And why would you do that?”

“Beckendorf here has a major crush on Silena—”

“Gods, what is it with this girl? Does she sweat nectar?” Beckendorf opened his mouth to protest when Percy spoke over him, knowing it would be more beneficial to let Luke lead.

“Look, I think we can both tell that Charlie’s love is pure, well-intentioned, better than, say, Ethan White?” Luke sighed, catching on.

“I’m in this for the cash, that’s it. Who Ethan wants to bang is of no interest to me.”

“There will be no banging!” Beckendorf cried as Percy pushed him behind. He was no use in a delicate situation like this.

“Ok, Luke, it’s just that we’re the masterminds behind this whole thing. We set it up so Beckendorf can get the girl — Ethan’s just a pawn.” Luke paid closer attention suddenly, intrigued by the chess match he’d been pulled into.

“So you two are gonna help me win her over?”

“We’ll do research, find out what she likes. We can be your guys on the inside.”

“In a strictly non-mission type of way,” Beckendorf added helpfully, nervous of the legends he’d heard about Luke’s failed quest. Luke chose to simply ignore that comment, and Percy filled the silence before he could get angry about it.

“Let’s just start here: the Apollo cabin is throwing a party on Friday night, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“I’ll think about it,” Was all Luke said, a clear signal the conversation was over. Percy and Beckendorf returned to fighting, slightly more regulated now they had gotten what they’d wanted, and Luke brought the cigarette back up to his lips, new thoughts clouding his mind.

Meanwhile, Ethan had found Silena where she was known to hang out by the rocks near the lake. He was hovering next to her, providing snatches of shade as he performed pose after pose, claiming he had a modelling job lined up when he left for the year.

“So which do you like better?” He asked, moving his hands fractionally to the left of his chin.

“The second,” Silena giggled, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “It’s more… pensive.”

“Damn,” Ethan kicked the sand softly. “I was going for thoughtful. So, you going to the Apollo party on Friday?”

“Maybe.” She produced her best coy smile, looking up at him from behind her lashes.

“Good, ‘cause you know I’ll only bother if you’re there.” Silena smiled, getting up from her spot on the rock.

“Bye.” Her voice was airy in the way she knew drove boys mad. She walked away leaving Ethan wanting more, her specialty. You scoffed, catching the end of the exchange. You and Silena made momentary eye contact, tension thick between the two of you.

As Beckendorf approached Silena, fishing for more information about you, Ethan had caught you in his sights and wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

“You sister is so cute,” His voice infiltrated your bubble in a way that made you want to hit him so desperately. “Doesn’t have your bite though, a feisty woman is so sexy.” You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you, but it was so close to working.

“Come any closer and I’ll show you just how feisty I can get,” You snapped, braid almost whacking him in the face as you turned to face him. You could have sworn Ethan looked afraid for a second before he covered it with bravado.

“One day you’re gonna realise that all of this hostility is just your sexual repression. Don’t worry, babe, I’ll be waiting with open arms… And legs.” You almost threw up.

“Gods, can’t you just leave me alone, asshole?” You yelled, trying to push past him to get anywhere else.

“C’mon, don’t be a prude,” He whined, and you were really close to taking him to the ground — not in the way he wanted.

“You heard the girl,” A voice called from behind you, and instantly Ethan took a step back. “She wants you to leave her alone.” Luke appeared behind you, a respectful distance away whilst still making his intentions clear. Ethan shrunk back into himself, making a lame excuse as to why he had to leave, hurriedly fleeing the beach. Reluctantly, you turned to face Luke.

“I’m not going out with you just for that,” You said plainly, daring him to try again.

“You think that low of me?” He laughed, dark eyes sparkling with mirth. You forced yourself not to notice. “I don’t have to want something from you to know that Ethan White isn’t worth your time.” It was your turn to be embarrassed at that, feeling slightly narcissistic for assuming that was the purpose of the conversation (it was, but Luke sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin his chances because you were in a mood, justified or otherwise).

“Oh.” You stared at his shoes. “Well, thanks, I guess.” You moved to leave but Luke stopped you, hand not quite touching your arm, unwilling to have it bitten off.

“So you do have a heart!” He joked, signature grin on his face. You wondered why you were seeing so much of it lately when he’d been so dour since his quest.

“Ha! You wish.”

“Don’t try to hide it, Beauregard, you’re warming up to me.”

“I’d sooner fuck Mister D,” You replied, actually taking your leave.

Luke watched you go, chewing his lip between his teeth. There was more to you than you let on, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t say it was any fondness, but he was starting to have a curiosity attaching itself to this scheme, and he knew that going out with you would satisfy it. He should have known having any personal stakes involved — sentimental or otherwise — would get dangerous.

Your own thoughts had barely budged on Luke. He was still a pain in your side and you figured you knew what kind of guy he was — not the type you had any interest in. Still, you couldn’t deny that you were appreciative he’d saved you from Ethan (and the inevitable washing up duty you’d be punished with when you beat him up), so maybe he wasn’t quite as despicable as you’d initially judged him to be. Close, though.

part three

[madlori]

Sometimes the delulu IS the solulu.

After some thought, and reading a lot of really insightful thoughts here and on Discord, I think I've reached a conclusion.

I'm going full tinhat. Not in an unhinged way, though.

I don't think this is the end.

I'm not going to count on it. I'm barely going to hope for it. But I am going to...keep an eye out for it.

The one common refrain we've heard from each other is that this did not feel like a permanent breakup. It felt so obviously and blatantly like a setup for Buck to fight for the relationship. It was that "one partner freaks out a bit and the other has to show their commitment" relationship hurdle which is so common it's a trope. In fact, most of us assumed that's just what it was...until those interviews

Now, I do not put Tim Minear up on some kind of pedestal of writerly greatness - far from it. And he did not write this episode, but the plotlines all go through him.

BUT.

He has always been very attached to Tommy as a character and to this relationship. He loves it. He loved red string theory so much that he wrote it into this episode. And I'm about halfway convinced he's in love with Lou but that's beside the point. (I mean, we get it, Tim.)

Tommy's what he always said he wanted to get for Buck. Firefighter, integrated into the 118, yadda yadda, we've been over this a lot. Someone he chooses, someone he works to build something with. Someone who shows up for him. He had Buck SAY in this episode that he'd never felt like this since Abby.

The thread of Tommy wanting a found family like Buck's. The intense settled/caregiving vibe of 8x05. It all felt so...purposeful. And yes, I agree that this could have been done just to punch up the angst for Buck when it ends. But that's not the only explanation.

The many, many comments of wanting to move Buck along in his personal life. Oliver wanting to do settled, domestic storylines with him. Giving Tommy the big hero romcom entrance in that hospital.

And what now? Cycle Buck through another love interest? It's hard to imagine recapturing what he had with Tommy with anybody else, or for the GA to embrace it as much as they did. What little we can see of the GA reaction (because the official socials are weirdly quiet and have not posted) is that they're not happy about this. Tim knows this.

I can buy Tim making some dumb writing decisions but he's not stupid. I find it very hard to swallow that he'd voluntarily toss away all this, and this potential, and what they'd already established, and a pairing/character/actor he loves, for what? For nothing.

So I think that it's not for nothing.

I think the plan IS to reunite them...

...they just don't know when, or how.

For some reason he wants to give it a break for awhile. I don't know why. There could be off-camera reasons. But I think it happened recently. Two weeks ago we got interviews talking about hurdles being overcome, relationships deepening, etc etc. It's a great episode for them, came out of Oliver's mouth. Not important, not consequential - great. And hey, what happened to that very important Bobby conversation where he gave Buck important advice? It wasn't there.

I think a change was made in the last two weeks. And yes, I know the loft stills were dated 9/17.

Two weeks is plenty of time to reshoot one scene, between when those interviews came out and last night. The stills could be from the first time it was shot, in September. Put the guys in the same wardrobe, we'd never know the difference, or that those stills weren't from the scene we actually saw.

OR

The scene was always the one we saw, but was always meant to be temporary, and the change was in how they talked about it in the interviews from last night. That is a simpler explanation, as it doesn't involve reshoots, but it doesn't explain those very incongruous interviews we got two weeks ago that do not match the scene we saw. Now, they have always vagued it up, and talked around things in interviews, but this was an entirely new level of misdirection and outright lying that isn't typical.

I'm really tinhatting it up now, but hey, what have I got to lose? I'm not investing anything in this. It's just...a thought.

If you think the network interfered (I don't, at least not for plot-related reasons, see below) or Oliver demanded the relationship be cut (I don't - I know lots of you are mad at him but I'm not), whatever it was...I just get a vibe. It could be as simple as money. It could be a ratings thing. Honestly? It could be that they've found out they're getting cancelled, and were ordered to cut bait on guest stars. They could be kicking the can down the road to goose ratings for spring when they do bring it back. There are lots of reasons I can think of and probably more that I can't.

I read a thoughtful and reasonable post about how it was more or less a mercy killing to post those interviews - most showrunners like to keep viewers guessing and coming back, so for them to say definitely BT was dead meant it's really, really dead (although how definitive they actually were is another question).

They might be right about that. I don't know.

Or they just might not know themselves. Even if the plan IS to reunite them eventually - if they don't have a plan for how or when, the safest course is to shut it down. No guarantees they can make it work, so play it safe. Oliver and Lou might not be looped in on this.

It's pretty thin. They probably would be, although we have ample evidence of actors not knowing stuff until the last minute. The other option is that they are looped in and are intentionally lying but I think that's very unlikely - although Lou has demonstrated a keen skill in keeping his mouth shut when necessary.

I'm not going to get nuts about this and neither should anybody else. I'm not going to be scouring socials or the internet looking for support or clues. I'm not going to be holding my breath waiting for a sign.

The only thing I'll keep an eye on is how they handle any flirtation or dating Buck does in the near future. How they handle it might be telling.

This is ALL very unlikely, let's be real.

I'm still tinhatting, though. Why not? What have we got to lose?

But if I'm right, I expect that red dodgeball in my inbox toot sweet.

(And Buddie still isn't going canon, btw.)

[toomiieimagiines]

hihihi

uhm so am i allowed to request again (i don’t wanna spam) 😭😭🙏

and if i am can u pls do a rui x hopeless romantic best friend reader (i’m totally normal about best friends to lovers lmfao)

so like the reader is always yapping about hot guys and it’s a little angsty at first because rui is thinking to himself ‘why did i have to fall inlove with someone that won’t ever choose me’ and then one day a hot guy comes up to reader and asks her out, reader is about to say yes but then she realises that she barely knew him and there was someone (rui) who had been by her side since day one and she figures out who she really loves (RUIII) so she rejects him and when rui asks why she just hugs him and says ‘because your the one i really want’ mwah mwah i feel like such a genius (i really hope this made sense lmao be prepared for a million bestie-> lovers and angst-> fluff rui requests 😼)

thank youyoyoyoyoyuuu!!

hi guys! i’m so so incredibly sorry for how inactive i have been! unfortunately, the fanfic writer curse caught up to me, and i’ve had considerably bad things happen to me! ToT

i had developed a really bad addiction after a recent episode - which may be why i’ve loved to write my characters so miserable, but they get a happy ending in the end - and have recently relapsed after a couple months. i’ve also been struggling with a lot of things, like being bullied again, pressure from theater, classes, autism, parental issues, memory of past trauma, having no friends, things like that. i’ve just been having a really hard time, so writing has been super difficult for me. i’m currently having some of the worst mental health in my life, and am un-recovering from other things i’ve had in the past too, after seeing the results of my recovery. sorry if this triggered anybody, i just needed to get this off my chest, and felt also that i should explain where i have been. you all supporting me has kept me going, and i hope you enjoy this one too! LETS END THE PITY PARTY!!!

in other - not so depressing news - here you guys go!! sorry for OOCness, obviously this is a more dramatic approach to a story! happy ending, j tried to write the inner narration differently for how you two were feeling at the time.. and ty once again for such a great idea, mama ^3^

“I don’t think I could stand to be where you don’t see me.”

If he has to sit here and listen to this one more time, he thinks he’ll go insane.

Rui Kamishiro loves you. He truly does. You’re his best friend, his partner in crime, his-

Never mind.

Rui loves you, but he absolutely HATES your taste in guys, and it’s driving him nuts. Nodding and agreeing can only get him so far before he wants to rip his own hair out, and tonight is no exception.

“I give up! All boys are dumb, I don’t need them!” You lament, resting your chin in your hands. It’s the same song and dance over and over. You swear off boys, you get attention, you get sucked in, and he has to pick up the pieces when it inevitably fails. How many times has he thought about how much better he would treat you now? He doesn’t know. He’d be a classical lover, he’d never speak to you the way those stupid unprincipled high school boys do.

Gross. That’s his best friend, why’d he think that? And when did he start being so self confident? He really outta look at himself in the mirror. What an egomaniac he’s turning out to be.

He shakes his head.

“You do know I’m still a boy, right?” He prods, trying to cheer you up. He knows this situation well, and he knows exactly how to make you feel better. Again he’d pull you out of this, and again he’d watch you fall in love.

He wishes you could be happy. He wishes you weren’t in love with being in love. You’re too pure for true love, love is disgusting, depraved, and unkind. You’re not anything like that.

“I know, I know, but you’re the only good one!” You point, words self-assured. “I don’t need a boyfriend, you do everything boyfriendy for me anyway!”

Ouch. Thanks a lot, that’s exactly what he needed to hear right now. He’s not gonna dwell on that last bit for now, he’ll wait until he’s home. Then he can- he doesn’t know. Cry, or something juvenile like that.

“So I’m back-up-boyfriend?” He masks himself in jest, smiling teasingly at you.

“Eh, maybe,” you snicker, “you’d definitely be cute if you weren’t my friend.”

He turns to his school work sharply, trying to mask his complete and utter despair. Ugh, why does he have to be so dramatic? His own personality makes his skin crawl with disgust and hatred, and that only makes him cringe more. He could think about how obnoxious he is all day. Maybe he should use that go home and cry pass early. He pretends to check the time, as if that isn’t all he’s been doing.

“It’s getting late, after this problem I should get going.” He mutters, scribbling some random numbers into his notebook. You yawn in response, being broken out of absentmindedly scrolling through your phone.

“Ugh, I wish you didn’t have to go!” You drape an arm over his torso, trying to hold him in. He smiles fondly, wrestling to get you off of him.

“I’d have to walk home in the dark then, do you want that?” He knows you’d never let him, and he sees it immediately.

Your face looks knowing, and you let him go right away. It amuses him at first, but quickly fills him with overwhelming pity. You’re so kindhearted it makes him sick. You shouldn’t worry about someone like him, it’s bad for your health.

“Would you like me to walk home with you?!” You shoot up, the idea of him not being safe running through your head. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. How emasculating! He’s not a helpless young girl! He’s just as manly as those boys who you long for, he’s not a puppy to be walked!

God, is jealously turning him into a bigot? He shakes his head once again, this time not just to clear his thoughts. He’s absolutely not letting you walk him home, it’d be mortifying. He takes your attention belly up, you should have a break. Maybe some time to yourself for a change? God, Rui, get a grip.

“I’m fine, I don’t want you out late by yourself either,” he assures, looking at you in haste.

“Ah. You have a point.”

“I always do.” He means more to that, and he wishes he could tell you. He wants you to see that even he knows what he’s talking about. He needs you to see him, just for once. Not as a best friend, or backup boyfriend, just as a regular one. As a lover who dances in the rain, or ties your shoes

He needs to stop. He shouldn’t think about you like that. It’s lecherous.

You two exchange goodbyes, giving him a long hug (much to his horror). He hates how feverish it is it hold you like this, it makes him feel guilty. His body gets hot, his cheeks flare up, his throat feels tight- it makes him feel like a pervert, even if his thoughts are the farthest thing from lewd.

He feels that everything he thinks about you is repulsive, though.

“Be safe”’s and “See you later”’s are passed between you two, and he walks down your front steps, now completely alone. His eyes scan the damp pavement, seeing the golden hues from the sky light the boring rock. That’s how he feels about you, he decides. You’re the sun, and he’s the pavement. He humors himself by thinking that your suitors are the clouds, stopping you from shining your light for him so he can grow weeds in the cracks of his soul. That’s what these feelings are. Weeds.

He wants to live life beautifully with you, he decides. He wants to tie your shoes, he wants to twirl you as you dance.

He wishes he could be the moon. Something of consequence- of importance, but he’s just the pavement. Not the earth, not the stars, not the clouds, or rain, he’s just a man made monster who destroys nature - you - and is walked over by people who do matter.

He should quit being this way, he grumbles, it doesn’t do anybody any good to be so flowery. He’s too girly- too weak. Maybe that’s why you don’t like him. If you’re willing to date anything that moves other than him, that must mean he’s on a completely new level, huh?

That’s what dreaming gets you, Rui. Crushed dreams and embarrassment.

He lets out a pitiful sigh, kicking a pebble with his shoe. He sees a worm in a lawn which reminds him of himself, he sees a couple shopping for a new game which reminds him of you, he sees a convenience store which reminds him that he’s hungry-

His life can be so mundane sometimes, what a drag.

He’s about to reach his front door, when he steps into a puddle. It feels like an appropriate representation of his life right now. A sense of disgraceful hilarity washes over him, and he begins to laugh. He laughs a while, he laughs as he takes his shoes off, he laughs as he peels his button up down, and he laughs as he lays in his bed. How dramatic he could be some times!

He falls asleep quickly. He has a dream about being on stage and forgetting his lines.

He wakes up with a thud, he fell out of bed. How embarrassing. He decides to check his phone.

Weirdo: RUII

Weirdo: wanna hang w me 2day?? u don’t have dance time right??

Weirdo: gonna kill you. WAKE UP

Me: I’m awake, sorry!

Weirdo: finally sleeping beauty

Weirdo: wanna get a snack? i’m simply starved…

Me: When?

Weirdo: an hr maybe…

Me: Okay :) I’ll tell you when I leave.

Weirdo: kay!!

He really doesn’t feel like being social today, but he’d never pass up an opportunity to see you. He’s an obscene degenerate when it comes to you, pouncing on your attention like a sick dog. It’s mortifyingly pathetic.

He gets dressed, throwing on a boring striped sweater. It’s getting colder outside recently, and he’s always ran cold anyway. His hands are shaky and nervous as he brushes his teeth, the anxiousness to see you making his body jittery. He considers breakfast, but quickly shuts the idea down. He doesn’t want to be stressed out - at least more than he already is - when he sees you. Twitchy hands lock his door, and he gets a few feet away before he double checks that he did, in fact, lock it. Pull yourself together, Rui! He screams at himself.

The walk is just as unexciting as he expected, albeit a bit chilly. He’s feeling thankful for the sweater. The breeze runs its hands through his hair, and he’s reminded that winter is coming. He always liked Autumn flowers the best, hibiscus flowers are pretty too, he supposes. It’s nice to have the warmth of the sun soothing his cold hands during summer, for sure.

He trips over a rock on the way, and his pants get wet on the knees. Khaki blends into an ugly brown, and he sighs. How unlucky, would anything go right for him today?

Turns out it will, you look really good today.

You great him at the door, practically buzzing with eagerness. It makes him smile, knowing that you do, in fact, want to see him. Or at least are acting like it. You’re a good friend to him, he’s lucky to have you.

“Rui!” You hug him as a greeting, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. His heart soothes, eyes closing in relaxation. Problems feel obscure and distant when you two are like this, despite his reluctance last night. He can forget about corrupt feelings - or misguided love- and he can just be your best friend. Despite his apprehension to be cared for, he is flattered that you, at least, seem to like him.

“Hey.” He breaths you in, his voice soft. He hopes you don’t notice, it’s embarrassing.

“Hey!” You reply, pulling away. “Big things planned, Rui!”

“What big things?” He asks, amused. “Big things” for you were junk food and shopping.

“Big things! It’s a surprise!” You put your shoes on, and he can’t help but feel jealous as he watches your hands tie them dutifully. He sighs, stretching. He decides to make it a challenge to act normal the whole day. No weird thoughts are going to beguile his mind, he promises himself.

You lock your front door, twisting the knob to make sure that it did, in fact, lock. This fills him with a child-like sense of delight, maybe you two really were similar.

Nah, not possible. You’re too pure - too perfect. Ugh, Rui, no more stupid thoughts.

He watches you check the time, make a face at a nearby bird, and cover your cheeks with your hands. You suddenly perk up, wrapping your arms around him.

“Warm me up, will ya?” You scowl at the cool air, grip tightening. He gulps. It’s weird he reacts like this, considering you two have done things like this all the time. It’s normal, so why does he have to be such a creep? His arms wrap around yours, running his hands up and down to create heat.

“Should’ve worn a jacket,” he chides, “wouldn’t be cold, y’know?” His voice is so casual, like everything is totally fine. It is fine. Fine, fine, fine.

“Gotta look good. I’m on the hunt, obviously,” you joke. It isn’t funny to him, but he lets out a laugh.

“You’re hopeless.”

You two stop at a convenience store first, and you all but sprint to the drinks. He had this ritual down to a science. You grab two different color slushies, and he grabs whatever odd snack catches your collective stomachs eye today. Today the two of you decide to split a cookie, and walk to the counter. The cashier gives you a smirk, and he averts his eyes.

“This it?” The boy cocks his head, and you get the memo. You immediately jump on the opportunity.

“Mhm!” You wink, resting your chin in your hands while leaning against the counter. In all honestly, he wasn’t even that cute. At least, that’s what Rui kept telling himself.

“Don’t worry about it, than. I got you guys,” he waves you off. Score! You think, but he adds. “If I can get your number.” Rui feels like falling into the floor, how awkward! You just scribble it onto a stray receipt, winking.

“Thank you! You’re the sweetest!!” You singsong, skipping along with Rui following suite. You immediately burst into laughter, throwing a fake punch at Rui. “What a weirdo! Like I’d call him over what, 1000 yen?! I don’t even know him, yuck!”

So you did have some sense, he feels like letting out a sigh of relief. You hold your hands out.

“Which one do you want? I got your favorite!!” You look so proud, and he wants to laugh. His “favorite” isn’t actually his favorite, but he’d never tell you that.

The lie started one day in middle school, when the two of you suddenly had a weird craving for slushies. When you picked them out, you had gotten a red one and a blue one, and asked him what he wanted. While he really didn’t like red, he knew you liked blue, so he said red. Now for the past four years, you’ve always ended up getting him a red one, thinking it was his favorite. He’ll deal with it for you. Seeing your blue tongue stick out with brain freeze is better than any sugary drink anyway.

“Red, duh.” He scoffs playfully, taking a sip of it. The taste doesn’t really bother him all that much anymore. It reminds him of you.

You always let him divide the snacks, thinking he gives himself the bigger half. He never does, but he eats slower so you think he did. You skip along, enjoying it.

“Y’know, this isn’t bad. Wish they had the brownie, though. That never does us wrong.” God, don’t make him think of the ‘crack brownies’ - as you two call them. Those are great, and he likes them, so you never miss an opportunity to shove them down his throat.

“Don’t complain. Remember the egg roll incident?” He points, laughing at the memory. You two steer clear of that section now, having gotten sick.

“Ugh, I haven’t thought about that in a while! I’m never eating an egg roll again after that day! Ugh,” you gag.

Moments of silly memories like this make him feel like he’s known you forever. He can’t even remember a moment where he hasn’t loved you.

“Where’re we going now, commander?” He salutes, following the trail of sunshine you left behind.

“Where ever the wind blows us, kind sir!” You salute back, pushing him along. Your constant checks of your phone don’t go unnoticed by him, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Who’re you texting? Don’t tell me it’s that guy.” He tries to sound casual, knocking his shoulder against yours playfully.

“‘M not a total idiot, I’ll have you know!” You huff, holding your phone to your chest. “It’s just somebody we went to school with a while back, ‘m seeing if I can pull the moves.”

“Do I know him?”

“Dunno, never saw you two talking, so maybe not. He was in my english class, remember, the only class we didn’t have together?”

“Ah.”

You two walk in silence, except for when he yanks you back from the collar so you don’t walk into oncoming traffic, which amuses you greatly. You two soon arrive at the small mall, and he tails you as you run with excitement. You two browse everything, constantly pointing out cute plushies, or interesting keychains.

“Rui, look! Look!” You shake him, pointing to the back of somebody’s head inconspicuously. “Wait don’t yet- Okay, now! He’s turning around! That’s the guy! What a coincidence we see him here, right? Do you recognize him?”

Ha. Yeah, he knows this guy. He definitely knows him. He’s the one who would trip him during passing periods, he’s the one who left flowers on his desk. They make eye contact, and it’s like all of his growth left his body. He’s just the same freak from middle school, he’s still thirteen.

He shudders at the guys smirk, sensing that he definitely knows that Rui knows him. He jogs over to the two of you, and Rui already knows what’s about to happen, due to the lopsided smile on your face.

Damnit, this is the first time he doesn’t think he can act like it’s okay.

“Oh wow, what a coincidence! Must be fate we run into each other like this, ehe…” You giggle awkwardly, a dumb expression gracing your face. It’s painful seeing you that way for anybody other than him, and he looks away awkwardly.

“Must be.” He answers, swaggering closer towards you. Rui thanks whatever God above because - despite his current situation - at least this asshole didn’t go to highschool with you guys.

He looks down at his shoes, and tries to shuffle away, knowing this jackass is about to say something. He’s quickly stopped.

“Who’s this, huh? Feel like a recognize him from somewhere…” He trails off, smirking through his nose as he turns his attention to him. “Have we met before?”

“This is Kamishiro Rui, he’s my friend! He went to middle school with us, remember?” You happily answer for him.

Ha, friend? What happened to back-up boyfriend? He’s a little hurt, to be honest.

He feels bitter, it’s unbecoming- God, he doesn’t care. He should feel bad for getting so angry over it, it’s not like you belong to him. He’s such a freak, getting attached to you like this.

He starts to pick at his fingers, then he plays with a loose string on his sweater. You two continue to chat like nothings wrong, and he keeps thinking. It’s something he’s gotten good at recently.

He stops feeling bad about himself for a second- a split second where he resents you, and wishes his pain upon you. Wants you to know what it’s like to be so disgustingly, guiltily, revoltingly obsessed with someone. In this split second, he can’t even find it in himself to feel guilty about it, which is unlike him. He wishes you felt love like this, that you were as psychotic about it.

But this doesn’t last long, because he remembers that he loves you more than anything. He’s lucky to be your friend. You’re a great friend, you’re an amazing person, you’re the sun, the sun, the sun.

He’s the pavement, he has to remember.

“I’m- I’ll leave you to it, y’know? Fabric store.” He stutters, choking on his voice. You don’t even notice, waving him off.

You do, however, remember to press his shoulder, uttering an absentminded “Okay, Rui, bye,” and he remembers again how perfect you are for doing it subconsciously. He lets himself feel the touch, long after he’s walked away. He deserves it after the trouble he’s reliving.

When he makes it to the fabric store - which he really didn’t need anything from, Nene had gotten some the other day - he can’t help himself from wishing he could just go home. Malls were always overwhelming already, and now his saving grace has the attention of another man. He walks through aisles, but realizes that he now has to buy something.

‘Least he knows that social cue, he laughs bitterly, running his hands across his face in frustration. He’s so ridiculous.

Meanwhile, you were chatting up a storm. It was your first time talking in person since middle school, after all! You feel giddy for a while, but it cuts abruptly. You feel a strange sense of urgency, something’s missing.

Oh, your best friend.

But where had he gone? You’re sure he was just here. You smile apologetically at the cute boy, putting on your best performance.

“Oh, I better go get my friend now. I don’t like walking home when it’s late. Was nice seein’ you, let’s hang out soon, ‘kay?” You singsong, stepping closer. You want to give yourself a pat on the back, you’re so cute.

He rolls his eyes, and you’re hit with a wave of uneasiness. That noise he made sounds strangely dismissive, he’s not the kind of guy to be a jerk though, you must be hearing things-

“Leave ‘im. Between you and me, he was a total freak in middle school. Probably is now, too. Probably likes you or somethin’, total nutcase.” His voice sounds so casual, like it’s not the douchiest thing you’ve heard all day.

You let other men walk all over you, sure. You let them cheat on you, lie, whatever. But you’re not about to stand here and insult Rui. He’s the only untouched thing in your life - the only person who isn’t cruel. He’s so gangly and awkward, but in the best way. You could live a million times and not be able to deserve him, at least you think so. He’s so unusual, and that’s what you love most about him. Little things like not liking loud lights, or liking the red slushies the best, make your heart buzzy with familiarity. He’s the one constant in your life.

You’ve been awfully worried about him recently, though. His particularly (as you like to call it) has gone to the an extreme, and it’s been a battle getting him to eat real food. You’re not blind, you see the way he’s been spacing out, or tapping a little too much. You just thought he’d been overwhelmed. He worries you to death sometimes, but despite all of his own struggles, he always seems to not care about it, deciding to always be there for you instead. Ah, he’s just such an amazing guy - no, not guy, he’s not anything like those other boys you talk to. He’d never insult someone like that. He’s not just a guy, he’s like your person.

Yeah, he’s definitely your person.

Your heart sputters at the thought, and you feel something you’ve never really felt before - save for hugs between the two of you that lasted just a second too long, or words a little too romantic. The feeling makes your mind fuzzy, and your heart hurt terribly with something you could only place as homesickness.

Oh.

“I,” you begin, backing away. “Yeah, I’m sorry but I’ll really be going now-“

“What? C’mon I was just messing with you, even though having guy friend’s kinda weird.” He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah whatever, I’ll call you back,” you say dismissively.

You’re totally lying, you laugh, you’re not calling him back.

He didn’t seem to like that.

“Damn, can’t even joke around with you people. Whatever, weirdo, sorry I insulted your little boyfriend.” The change in tone amuses you.

Yeah, good riddance, pal.

You turn away, walking through the mall with pace. It takes a while, but you spot him watching a pet stores aquarium.

He’s a funny one.

You wave your hands, trying to get his attention. He swallows, knowing that it’s probably to ask him if it’s cool to walk home by himself. Emotions are stupid, and ironically, you both think that at the same time.

“Rui! Rui! Hey c’mon, let’s go home, yeah?” You smile, face feeling warm. It’s a different feeling from when you usually talk to him. He looks at you, a little shocked. He had assumed you were smiling wide because you set up a date, so he turns his head.

“Where is he, huh?” He looks away, back to the fish tank. You shift in place, was he mad at you? You’re a little irritated at the mention of the guy, though, and huff.

“Don’t worry about that. Seems like I only attract douchebags, so I decided to go.” You explain, poking his shoulder. “Hey,” you start, “let’s just walk home, I wanna talk to you about something.” The idea makes you feel dizzy, but you’ll have to illustrate your feelings one day.

You can leave out the “I think I’m in love with you” part, you think.

The two of you walk in an excruciating silence, staring down at the reflection of the setting sun in the puddles. His heart tightens, remembering his earlier comparison. Even now, you’re so perfect. Even if he’s frustrated with you - despite you turning down the guy in the end (he doesn’t know why, he wanted to ask) - even if he’s ready to scream, and cry, and ask you what it is he did for you to be so turned off by him, he still thinks you’re the most heavenly, divine person to ever grace his view. He wants to be where you see him, he wants to be in your orbit.

“You’re like the sun-“ He blurts out, immediately regretting it. He didn’t mean to say that, God, he’s so fucking stupid. He sees you stop walking, smiling that same stupid, dopey, lopsided smile that he’s always so jealous of-

Oh. It’s for him.

He chokes, stopping to meet you eye-to-eye. You look up at him too, laughing giddily.

“What does that mean?”

He sputters, stepping away. “N-no it’s nothing- It was stupid anyway so-“

“No, tell me!” You urge, laughing a little harder. “What if it was something bad, ‘nd you were making fun of me? That’s not nice, Rui!”

“I- Hey-“ His voice goes a touch higher, a defensive tone rising. “That’s not-“

“Then tell me.”

“It’s just,” he breaths, trying to word it in the least creepy way possible. How does convey the fact that he sees you as a divine presence, that he sees himself as a worthless creature compared to you, without sounding like he’s hopelessly possessed by love for you? “I just- you’re so amazing,” he starts, “I thought of this stupid thing the other day when I was walking home - you know how I am - and well, I just thought of you when the sun reflected off the pavement - since it rained, y’know? - and well, it just- Sorry, it was dumb-“ He rambles, covering his face in anguish.

Nobody’s ever put that much thought into you. Sure, you’ve received a few ‘You’re so gorgeous’’s, where you’ve had to wonder where they learnt such a “big word”, but never something as poetic as that. The usual Rui-ratic explanation endeared you to him even more. You look at him, the smile never leaving. He’s just… so Rui. His stupid striped sweater, his half up hair - that you’d begged him to grow out - his eyes, whatever. Everything about him you treasure, and little do you know he cherished you even that more intensely.

“I think you’re the moon, Rui. Or maybe the earth, since I take care of you, hah!” You snicker, stepping closer to him. He takes a step back in return, and you grab his hands to make him stay put. His heart throbs, and he almost goes crashing down.

“I.. I don’t-“

You yank his hands, making him look back up at you. “Hey, Rui, I,” you look at him assuringly, “I wanna say something, and you can’t laugh okay?”

He holds his breath, so do you.

Fuck it, just tell him.

“I think I’m in love with you, Rui.” You gaze at him, the words shooting out faster than you can second guess them.

“I don’t-“ He breaks away, his fists balling up. You messed up, you think, you really, really messed up. “I’m not- I’m not going to- You can’t just say that because you got rejected. I- It wouldn’t be nice to- You don’t love me-“

“Rui,” you beg, grabbing his arm again, “holding hands on the way to school, cuddling while doing homework, knowing everything about eachother, these aren’t-“ You breath, “I’ve wanted somebody to love me for so long, Rui, and I was so blind to the fact that I was loved. But the love that I felt for you, - that I feel for you - Rui, isn’t the kind where I can be- where I can just be so- so normal about those things!” You monologue, saying whatever’s on your mind. You’re the rambling one now.

“I found myself comparing you to these piece-of-garbage dude’s I’m always with, wishing I could just date somebody like you instead! But now I realize that it is you-“

His heart falls into his gut, and he breaks free from you again. His hands move to his face, covering his eyes. His voice is broken and cracky as he begins to cry. “That was- you-“ He pulls you into a desperate embrace, arms holding you like you’ll disappear. “You shouldn’t, you’re wrong.” He sobs, “I’m- the way I love you is- You don’t understand, the way I feel isn’t normal I- My love is disgusting, and horrible, and depraved-“ He shakes, you rub his back. “You are so perfect compared to me, I’d never be able to- I love you so much, more than friends are supposed to, more than anyone’s supposed to at our age-“

“Rui, hey Rui please don’t cry.” You beg, smoothing out the ridges in his sweater. “I don’t- I don’t agree with that, and I can scream that at you, but I’m sure you won’t believe me. You’re not disgusting for feeling emotions different, Rui that’s what I love about you.”

“Stop- stop saying my name like that. It’s too hard to-“

“Rui, I love you. You don’t need to accept it, but I love you. More than being in love, more than being loved-“

“I love you, too,” his voice cracks, “that’s why I’m so scared. I don’t want to ruin a friendship that’s all I have, if this is just- I’m scared I’d lose you in any way, and I can’t live in a world where you don’t see me. I won’t. It’s sounds horrible but-“ He stops as you pull away from the hug, and wipes his face hastily. You put your pinky out, and his stomach drops again.

“C’mon, just like when we were kids. Pinky promise that no matter what, we’ll always see each other. That way you don’t need to worry anymore, y’know? I never break my kissy pinky promises, ever.”

Just like when you two were little.

He locks his with yours, just like you taught him all those years ago. He remembers your shared handshake for theater, he remembers your shared handshake for testing, and he remembers the song you two had to duet for choir - when you have forced him into it for a year. He holds everything of you so dear to his heart, you endear everything about him to you as well.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I see you.”

“I see you, too.”

You two kiss your hands, then bring them down, still interlinked. You stare at him, and he stares back at you. In a moment of profound sincerity, you lean forward, and kiss him. It’s slow and gentle, and you unlock your hands half way through to hold his face, which he mirrors. His heart settles for the first time. You see him. He’s your moon, your earth, you’re his sun, his stars.

He’s suddenly alarmed by a quick pushing off of him, gasping out a “Rui!”

“I-“ he pants, wiping his mouth. “Hm?”

“we’re in the middle of a park!”

[mashiraostail]

Hii! can i request your take on how wyll would react to a partner that is just ridiculously into him? like, they blush and giggle everytime he makes a joke, anytime they talk to him in camp they are def staring at his stomach, they cling to him at every opportunity. that kinda thing.

i LOVE your writing btw

this how i am with Wyll in my play through he goes "well met" and im kicking my legs and giggling

sorry i've been kinda MIA turns out being an adult with responsibilities like lowkey takes up a lot of my time.

Wyll doesn't like to flatter himself, he's the Blade of Frontiers that's special enough. He doesn't also have to be the apple of every wayward adventure's eye, he doesn't have to be anything particularly special to look at. So he doesn't, flatter himself that is, he doesn't immediately think that he's the reason his newest traveling companion is fluttering and blushing and stumbling in every direction. He figures you're just like that, excitable and always happy to see a familiar face in such a treacherous situation. He decides that he's more than happy to be that familiar face for you. It had been that way since your first meeting at the grove, you had reached out and rested a hand on his bicep as you invited him to join your camp and something about the twinge of color in your face and the way you struggled to hold his gaze made him feel glad to have been invited, he accepted easily. He briefly wonders if perhaps your constant watching and nervous fluttering comes from a place of distrust, distrust in his eye, in his pact, and in his history, that concern didn't last long.

As you traveled together it only became worse, the less clothing he had on the fewer syllables you could choke out at him, all of his jokes were the funniest things you'd ever heard and if you had any say in the matter you would always walk beside him. He didn't mind, actually the opposite, and he wondered when it might be time to start flattering himself with the notion that you would enjoy more than just friendly conversation.

He can feel your eyes on him, which isn't unusual, but lately it seems to be more. What could have been mistaken before for an excitability about or a desire for friendship and a familiar face was slowly morphing into something more tangibly lustful. He could feel your eyes on his stomach, gliding down the wiry trail of hair below his navel, darting between the protrusion of his hipbones, down the V of his shirt collar and over the veins in his bicep. When you spoke your eyes fluttered between his face and his body and if it were anybody else he wondered if he would feel as flattered as he did right now.

Often he finds himself looking for a reason to go to you, maybe he likes flattering himself or maybe he just likes you. He'll bring you books to read on relevant topics like mind-flayers and mind-flayer transformations, areas you're going to travel through, enemies you'll have to fall and so on. When the day is out and you all settle in at camp he's usually looking for you first of all.

"There you are-"

You try to not go so dutifully to him, you know your oogling is obvious, you'd feel more guilty if his distaste of it were clearer but you couldn't get a read on him and you couldn't help yourself at the best of times. It was especially hard to get a read on him when he seemed to be looking for you almost as often as you were thinking of or looking at him.

"Wyll." You're sitting by the camp fire, back against a log when you see him walking towards you, or hear him call out for you.

"I was looking for you." He stops barely a foot away, looking down at you. You instantly feel heat rise up your chest, you can feel it pool between your collar bones and climb slowly up your neck, the color burns your cheeks.

"You were....looking for me?" And gods help you, you try to look at his face, his face is as lovely as the rest of him but at night you get to see his uncovered arms and stomach and you can't help but desperately want to see it all.

"I found something for you today, it slipped my mind earlier but I saw it in my pack and remembered you." He's holding a book up, "I hope I can blame this forgetfulness on our unwanted passengers." He taps his temple, "otherwise I fear what will happen to me in my old age."

The worst part of it all is you're extremely capable, Wyll's watched you fell hundreds of enemies by now, and that's in the past week alone. But somehow all he had to do was crack a light joke and you were giggling and smiling at him like a school child. Though he didn't seem disdainful of it, he actually looked rather proud, so the embarrassment about it was reserved for you alone.

"It's a book about the Underdark and the Myconid colonies there. I'm not sure what it was doing in that empty tavern basement but...I guess my old habits can still come in handy sometimes." He shrugs and holds it out to you, "I figured you would like to read it."

"Thank you for thinking of me." You're sure he can see the wash of color over your skin darken, especially so when he reaches out his pointer finger to brush against your hand as you take the book from him.

"Don't thank me, it's easy." He shrugs and procures an apple and a dagger, though he's probably had them the whole time and you only tore your eyes away from his chest to notice now. "Room for one more? I can share this apple as repayment." He nods at the empty spot beside you and tries not to laugh as you flounder to sit up and make room for him.

"What's gotten into you lately?" He's still standing as he begins to peel the apple with the slightly dulled blade, pushing it occasionally against the pad of his thumb, he drops the scraps for the cub and Scratch who come dutifully to him, "you seem jumpier than usual."

What had gotten into you was Wyll's incessant need to test the water with you. He'd sit by you and your thighs would touch and you would be able to feel his breath on your shoulder when he spoke; he'd offer to take your bowl after dinner and cover your hand with his when he did, and he would laugh at you, and rest his hand on his stomach where he must know you would look. He'd watch you preen and purr at the attention, and you would go to him like a moth to a flame and he would celebrate the victory of it as if he hadn't had you all along.

"I'm just...exhausted." You rub your face to sell the lie, and it was certainly a lie, you couldn't feel tired around Wyll only jumpy, clingy and nervous.

"Really?" He frowns, "shall I leave you then?"

His frown was enough to make your chest and stomach bloom with excitement, he wanted to stay with you.

"No! I can't sleep so early.... I'll be up all night. I'd like your company."

You watch the subtle flex and give of his bicep and forearm, illuminated in the firelight, as he rounds the edge of the dagger across the apple's skin, the vein on the back of his hand gently protrudes as the blade of the dagger presses against his thumbprint. Every twist of the dagger brought his biceps to life, the steady strength of his arm coaxing the apple's skin to surrender in slow, deliberate ribbons; and you genuinely aren't sure what to do with it all. You wanted to feel his biceps ripple under your hands, watching the practiced ease with which he moved made you wonder what else he was well practiced for.

"We should have somebody paint you a picture. when we get to the city." He slices of a bit of the peeled apple and offers it to you, "it would last you longer."

"A painting wouldn't do you justice." You take it from him as he sits down, you hear him kiss his teeth and laugh through his nose.

"Careful, you won't like me with a big head. What are you trying to butter me up for, exactly?" He slices himself a cube of the apple and despite the shame anyone else would feel at his previous words you can't help but watch as his teeth sink into the apple with a crunch. You watch the flex and pop of his jaw as he chews and the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows. If he can tell you're watching he doesn't seem to mind.

"Nothing in particular." You shake your head at him and accept another small chunk of the fruit he was cutting.

"Ah." He twirls it in his hands, "but you are trying to butter me up then?"

"I don't know if I would call it that, I just can't help myself."

"You know, at first I worried you just didn't trust me." He offers a chunk of apple to the cub and scratch before throwing it into the distance, they run after it and he grins, "but now I'm worried I'm becoming vain, thanks to you."

"Vain?" You pique, "why's that?"

"I can tell you're always looking, and I'm preening like a peacock for you. Dunno why, you'd caught something the second you met me, didn't you?" He nudges his shoulder against you before going on, the flush rising again to your face was all the answer he needed, "I'll tell you the truth, if you'd like to hear it, I aim to live by the standards of a gentleman. The kind of man my father would have been proud to raise. I like to do things properly, slowly, deliberately." He sets the dagger down, "but, when we met, I could feel you looking at me at camp that night, the way you talked to me, and preened for me, it felt good. I felt like I wouldn't have minded to throw away those standards, to enjoy you the way you seemed to enjoy me."

"So why didn't you?" You sounded almost petulant, and you were looking up at him with so much earnest that he wondered again what would be so bad about throwing caution to the wind.

"Just because I wouldn't have minded to do something doesn't mean it would be the right thing to do. I am glad to take my time with this, no matter how difficult I find it at times. It's rewarding to...enjoy flattering myself with your attention while I consider, with time, all the ways I'd like to return it. You deserve much more than a lustful, needy, late night tryst, as wonderful as it may sound in the heat of the moment. You deserve all the careful time and consideration I can muster the will power to afford...I only want you to know that I understand you, and I feel the same way. When the time is right, and when I can give you the sort of night you deserve, you'll have me. I promise."

If you were to ask Wyll he would tell you he honestly had no idea how he kept his head from growing to big to fit in camp. Gods, you were practically purring in his lap and all he had offered up were some honeyed words and close contact. He'd never tell, but maybe it was all a bit self indulgent because gods did he love watching you bloom for him, he didn't mind letting you push the envelope, put your hands on his chest, let them wander a bit, he had more than enough will power to deny himself in the end and it would all be worth it when he finally found the right time to have you, or at least when he finally ran out of will power.

He wouldn't mind waiting until then anyways, not when you gave him enough attention to hold him over for a life time.

[fanboyoff1]

Arthur Leclerc Lacy (900 words)

In case you don't know, I'm a bit of a sucker for angsty Arthur, so I made this songfic and wanted to share :p

Lacy, oh, Lacy, skin like puff pastry 

Aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of h*ll? 

Dear angel Lacy, eyes white as daisies 

Did I ever tell you that I’m not doing well?

Charles got it all. That was something Arthur learned from a young age. Charles got the game because he was older, the later curfew because he was responsible, the weight of both of their dreams because he would be better. And he was. And that tore at Arthur’s heart, because the only thing keeping him going then was that he was just as good as Charles. But that was a lie, covered in childhood naiveness and rose-tinted glasses.

And then, once Charles got everything both of them had dreamed of, Arthur finally got his chance, and could not top his brother. Which only affirmed that Charles would always be better. He was too good, too much. He chased after his dreams and got them, while Arthur lagged behind, barely a footnote in his brother and father’s stories. How it always was.

Ooh, I care, I care, I care 

Like perfume that you wear 

I linger all the time 

Watching, hidden in plain sight

Ooh, I try, I try, I try 

But it takes over my life 

I see you everywhere 

The sweetest torture one could bear

“Oh my god, you sound just like Charles!”

Arthur laughs away the comment, but it stings more than it should. Must everything come back to Charles, Charles, Charles?

It makes sense, of course. Charles got there first, rose through the ranks, and was just better than Arthur. Obviously he would be remembered more.

But it hurts. It hurts when people run up to take pictures and sign autographs with his brother while Arthur just stands there awkwardly. It hurts when his career is constantly compared to Charles’. It hurts when Charles stands on the podium, beaming with pride and joy, while Arthur watches from the sidelines. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

He was good, too. He knew he at least wasn’t horrible. But good wasn’t enough when your brother was Charles Leclerc. Good was never enough for anybody. 

Smart sexy Lacy, I'm losing it lately 

I feel your compliments like bullets on skin

“I am very, very happy to see him doing well.”

“I would want Arthur to be my teammate in Le Mans.”

“I worry about him a lot more than I worry about myself in the car. I just start to think of all the scenarios in my head of what could go wrong.”

“I’m very impressed with how much Arthur has developed as a driver.”

Why did Charles make this so much harder? Him with his constant praise and boosting of Arthur’s career, even when it was going poorly. It made it even more painful to feel jealous, to feel sad, when all Charles did was lift him up. He wanted to scream in his apartment room, watching these interviews that made him feel so loved and so lost all at once.

Dazzling starlet, Vettel reincarnate 

Well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist?

“Charles has been doing very well recently. What is your reaction to your brother’s success?”

How quickly a happy interview could turn sour. It’s like the people who make these questions want him to snap, to say how he really feels. That he is jealous, that he aches, that he wants what Charles has.

He knows how Charles will react, though. How his brother would drop all of his success to lift Arthur up. And Charles has been through enough. (Haven’t I been through enough as well?)

So he swallows the bile in his throat, plasters on a fake smile, and dishes out a PR ready response anyone on his team would be jealous of.

“I am extremely happy for him, of course. He has been working for this goal since we were very young. He deserves all of the things that are coming to him, and I will always be there to cheer by his side.”

Ooh, I care, I care, I care 

Like ribbons in your hair 

My stomach's all in knots 

You got the one thing that I want

Arthur didn’t hate Oscar Piastri. Quite the opposite, actually, they’d been good friends since they’d met in Prema. And he knew Oscar was good. He knew he’d earned his place in F1.

Not one, but two Leclerc's on pole today! But oh, how that stung.

Did they have to phrase it that way? He understood it was just a fun joke, and it was funny, but it was bad enough when Charles had said Oscar ‘deserves to be in F1.’ Now, he was stealing Arthur’s dream. His last name felt poisoned, by Charles’ fame and now this fake adoption.

He wanted to hunt Oscar down, shout at him, tell him to get this Leclerc dream out of his head, because Arthur could not handle it anymore. Why can’t it be me?

Ooh, I try, I try, I try 

Try to rationalize 

People are people but

It's like you're made of angel dust

“Charles Leclerc wins the Monaco Grand Prix!”

Arthur is at the front of the crowd, screaming his throat sore with tears streaming down his cheeks. Charles reaches him, hugs him, ruffles up his hair. And in the back of his mind, something in Arthur clicks. He can never tell Charles what he truly feels. All the jealousy, all the hurt. He’ll never be able to.

He can suffer in silence for Charles. He’s good at it. It’s all he’s ever known.

[tmzrkstan]

the idol!reader stuff eats so bad but barely anybody does it

I am particularly passionate about this type of reading. And taking advantage of the moment, I leave here an old idea that I never gave a chance to. ;)

nct dream (hyung line) working with ex idol!s/o.

•----------••----------••----------••----------••-------•

genre: idol!reader, ex to lovers (?), smutty, adult language.

•----------••----------••----------••----------••-------•

✭MARK:

Looking from a professional point of view, it was such a great opportunity. You could finally get to do another kind of concept, show other side of yours. Besides, you knew very well how much of a talented idol Mark was. Your team almost beg you for you to do it, them just freaking out with the attention y'all would get.

Even when you accepted there wasn't really a lot of meeting with your ex. Untill the MV shooting day at least. There you were, watching Lee from far while finishing your make up. He was receiving instructions from the director.

"Hey..." your voice sounded quietly.

"Hi!" his eyes turned out similiar from a lost puppy. "You look nice... I mean, it´s nice seeing you." he just got a short smile from you. "Your part it´s really great"

"Of course, you must think so since you composed it" he stammered a bit before correcting himself "No, I meant you made it a lot better."

Before any more chances to say anything the director made you two start the work there. Both of you acting the way you were supposed to. Inside, you were annoyed and still feeling a litle hurt, on the Mark´s side, he was feeling awful. He knew it was his fault that the break up happened. You were the most understanding girlfriend ever, since you knew what beeing an idol means. But you also got tired of waiting for your turn, to get attention. He lost weeks not even calling you while on tour, but you didn´t. Always texted and videocalled him.

After a lot of fighting you gave up and clean the way for him to focus just on that. Lee really tried to see as the best thing for you both but he was suffering every day since. His members made him notice who the jerk was. He smiled like a child on Christmans morning whwn you agreed to collab with him. It was the last chance and it would be worth.

Hours passed out, your ex complimented and took care of you all day long. Those who didn´t knew about your relantionship were surprised by how a gentleman he was with you, who just tried your best not to fall for his sweetness again. Especially when you found a letter on your bag during a pause.

It was his hand writting and his true feelings. Apologies all over it, confessions like that he writted the love lyrics of the song for you and that he never stoped loving you. Admitted he was wrong and childshid and was ready for trying again if you do too.

''Oh boy'' you thought as seeing how good he was with words while they were on paper.

The last ''Cut!'' was heard and you carefully whisper at him "We can have dinner, that´s all." you bet he was happy. "Better not wase my time."

"I would never dare to do it again."

✭Renjun:

Beeing in a relantionship with him was sweet, comfortable and lovely. But unfortunally this only was like this when you still a trainee. When you had a chance to debut it all changed. Schedueles, dates, you lost time together and all the fighting started. You just didn´t talked with each other anymore since the end. Until you worked together in a survival reality as judges.

Everybody noticed how you were always on opposite sides and skewered each other for your different opinions. There were even compilations of yours fights, that carried a lot of chemistry and tension, on the internet every week and the audience loved this intrigue.

Eventually, they ended up having to help the same team, which made them put their fights aside and gather even behind the cameras looking for a solution to help the poor trainees.

"I can't understand your point" you rolled your eyes laughing "Of course you never did." he huffed "It's not all about you, though you may think so..." you were discussing what would be the best direction for a choreography.

"You're so childish! It's obvious that this step is better! You take it, however, you lose your balance at a certain point and end up almost falling, if it weren't for him catching himself abruptly. Eye contact was present and you felt your mouth go dry and your hands sweat.

"You should be more careful!" he puts you back on your feet, still holding tight to your waist. "If not what?" he looked down at you "What?" you then repeated "If not what will happen?"

"I'm going to have to teach you a few things…how to respect your elders." "How?" He sighed, smiling with some anger. Took you to the wall attacking your lips aggressively as he squeezes your waist again and you lose your fingers in his hair.

✭Jeno:

Starting to date with your co-worker wasn´t a really a good idea, especially if him was another MC from the TV show you worked on. But who could blame you for not resisting to Jeno? I mean, look at him right?

You should´ve said "no'' the first time he asked you out, but was too late now. After a few months you two had a big fight because of diferences on toughts and were obligated to work together for at least five weeks more. You runaway for as long as you could but after a quick tour on Asian you had to get back. But it was clear that he wasn´t going to make this easy.

A lot of smiles and flirting talks run free during the meeting for planning the week and when you were on make up session.

"Just shut your mouth up!" you yelled as soon as the stylists leaved the room.

"Why? Need it shut for you to kissed?"

"I´m gonna punch just on the midle of your face."

"The face you love." he smiled all playfull.

"I simply hate your attitude and confidence, you´re not that all." you roll your eyes as you listen to him laugh. "What?"

"It´s fun... the way we were making out on that sofa a few days earlier and now you are saying this stupid thing..."

"You are stupid." he got up, walking to behind your chair and facing you through the mirror. "Really, darling? Only because we had a silly fight you think that?"

"You know it wasn´t silly" you sigh. "For me it was, anything that keeps me away of these beautyful lips it´s silly..." he pus both hands around your shoulders, caressing exactly the way you like it.

"Don´t...don´t touch me." you hesitate before spinning your chair to his front. "I´m not going to fall for your charm again."

"So I do have a charm." his high was cut in half by his knees touching the carpet. "You fall once, sweetheart." he blinked slowly before biting his lower lip. "Let´s not promise things we can´t deal with later, ok?"

The door was open after three knocks, reveling the hairstylist team. He came back to his chair, with a cheeky smile. Oh, he was so sure you would be his again, just in a matter of time...

✭Haechan:

You really didn´t wanted to finished things with Donghyuck, but unfortunately beeing famous demanded a lot. When you noticed your, just recent, relantionship with him was making Haechan a lot distracted from his work you felt guilty. With wich power could you make him risk everything if you got into his life few days ago? So hard, but you did it. Lied and end it all because of "mental confusions".

But here you were, getting ready to practice a dance stage with him for an award concert. The fans picked you two for it, based on your aparently "friendship", and you get bad to your side if you recused.

Very diferent from what you expect, he was normal around, at least for his general behavior. He joked around with the dance instructor and tried to make you laugh, he wasn´t awkard at all. However, you felt very strange inside.

Luckly, you guys were quick with it and finished the day earlier. You grab your things nd almost run to grab the elevator, the same he stops putting one hand between the doors.

"Oh, isn´t such a coincidence?" he pressed the bottom on the metalic wall.

"I guess..." you smiled weakly.

"I didn´t get why you so weird around me..." he sigh slowly. "I should be the one to be like this, since you broke my heart few days ago, right?" even though his words looked painfull he was smiling yet. "You really didn´t had pitty for me, y/n..."

"Haechan, I..." your felt like falling as the elevator lurched and its lights were replaced by a darker, apparently the emergency one. "What´s this?" you grabed your bag stronger.

"Don´t worry, this one always do something like it, just wait a few minutes." he put his back at one wall.

"What? Why didn´t you told me before?" he looked down "I ask the same to you..."

"Come on, it´s not the same thing!" you frowned at him. "All we can do it´s wait, i swear it happended before."

"Fine... but I won´t be listening to you atacking me or my motives during this time!"

"I wouldn´t do it." he shrugged. "Even hurted, I know you didn´t mean anything that you said." "What?" the man came closer "It may look like not enough time, but I nkow you well by now. You were concerned."

"About?" he looked up "Me giving all of me in this...what did you called it? Hookup time."

"You can´t be sure of that." you tried to get back but he grabbed you wrist "But I am, as much as I decide to forgive you for this." he put one hand on your cheek "Also sure that you missed me how I missed you..." And everything happened quickly, the touch of lips, the lights and the elevator coming back and the doors opening in Jaemin and Jisung's faces who watched everything with a shocked face.

•----------••----------••----------••----------••-------•

[humbledragon669]

S1E3 – Hard Times Write Up P4 - London (1941) and Soho (1967)

So, was anybody actually fooled into thinking that our angel was really working for the Nazis in this scene? It was a little confusing at first I’ll grant you, but the moment we see him giving away books, particularly first editions, and especially first editions of books of prophecy, that should have given the game away to all and sundry. I do love how much Aziraphale is enjoying himself in this scene though, like it’s all just a big, exciting game that he’s winning at.

His use of the phrase “our side” is interesting to me, particularly if we take into account the conversation he has with Crowley about sides at the end of this episode. But I’m getting ahead of myself. In truth, I’m not sure whether he uses the phrase as part of his own Heavenly cover story or because he really does believe that his “side” is now with the Allies in the war. If it’s the latter, it would suggest that his allegiances sit more squarely with humanity in deference to Heaven at this point. That said, he very quickly switches to it being “your people” when he realises he has no control over the situation. I’d just like to take a moment to appreciate the extreme reaction we see on Aziraphale’s face at that point – it actually feels like it’s over-reacted to the point of falsity, but it’s clear from the following dialogue he was not aware he was being double crossed. I can’t help but laugh every time I watch this little clip:

Ah, what a surprise! Crowley has arrived to save Aziraphale at exactly the right time, despite not having seen or spoken to each other since their disagreement over the holy water in 1862 (as confirmed in the Script Book). It’s like he somehow knew exactly where the angel was and that he was getting himself into trouble… Not only that, he’s putting himself through some severe discomfort to come and save the day. (Side note: anybody else find the image of Crowley walking on a hot beach in bare feet extremely amusing?) Aziraphale genuinely appears surprised to see him, so as with Paris I don’t think he knew the demon was within his proximity - although there is a look of recognition on his face as he realises who it is walking down the aisle towards him (and what a cute image that is), his first question is to demand to know why he’s there.

Crowley is more than happy to declare that the ONLY reason he’s in that church is to stop the angel getting into trouble. No excuses, no stuttering, just a flat-out statement – I am here for you. I’d really like to think that we might get a bit of backstory about how Crowley is always in the right place at the right time for Aziraphale in season 3 – it’s just one of those little bits of canon I’d like to have more detail about (I know, I know: “what and see”).

I have to hand it to Crowley in this scene – he still has the dignity to be insulted at the suggestion that the Nazis are working for him even, not lose his temper that the suggestion has been hurled (rather thoughtlessly) at him by his only friend, and reiterate that his reason for being there is for Aziraphale, all whilst trying to preserve the skin on his feet. Having seen how quickly the demon can lose his patience (and temper), this feels like it would have taken quite an effort to achieve.

We find out two things from Glozier here: first, that Crowley is “famous”, presumably amongst the Nazis, though we don’t find out what he’s famous for. Whatever it is, it’s not so impressive that they’re not prepared to kill him. Second, that he has changed his name again – retaining the “Crowley” as a last name, implementing a first name (Anthony) and a middle initial (J). I’m sure I’m not the only one that enjoys the lovely bit of small talk that goes on between them both as Crowley hops around, as if discussing this bit of news were the only thing on either of their minds. I also love that the demon seems genuinely invested in whether Aziraphale likes his choice or not, and Aziraphale’s response that he’ll “get used to it” says so much about how he feels about their relationship at this point. He actually doesn’t look particularly impressed with the new name, and perhaps it’s telling that we never hear Aziraphale refer to him as Anthony (even though he did adapt the new name when it was changed from Crawly).

Crowley’s realisation that there’s a whole font of holy water, completely unguarded, serves as a poignant reminder of the previous scene, despite the fact that he’s still hopping around in a now vaguely irritating way. It makes me wonder if this is where he gets the idea that he can get hold of his “insurance” without Aziraphale’s help by robbing a church (as will be seen in 1967).

We’re back in the land of hidden communications in this next exchange:

This feels like the angel and demon partnership that we have, so quickly, come to love. Teamwork, understanding, and a little bit of sacrifice to achieve a common goal, without the need for explicit declarations of intent. It’s so very different from the strained conversation we saw in 1862, but this definitely feels like it’s a truer representation of their partnership.

I want to take a moment here to talk about something that feels inconsistent to me in the scene that follows the explosion. I had initially wondered about the fact that the ground no longer appears to be consecrated after the bomb has hit the church (Crowley has stopped hopping around like a madman), but having done some (very shallow) research it would appear that churches can only be considered consecrated if they are suitable for worship. Seeing as that bomb pretty much obliterates the building, I think we can probably declare the ground now deconsecrated. My brain however is focussed on that font of holy water. When the church was blown up, that font, including its contents, would have gone everywhere. And I mean, everywhere. There’s no way that Crowley was getting through that explosion without some of it getting on him, or something that he touches (like the book bag he’s about to tear out of a dead Nazi’s hand). I have supposed that there is a possibility that it would have evaporated in the heat, but I’m not sure that fixes the problem – water evaporated becomes steam and Crowley would likely have inhaled some of it. So we’re left with two possibilities here – either Aziraphale did something that would cover these eventualities in his own miracle or Crowley actually can come into contact with holy water. Not that he’d ever be able to test the latter theory of course, it’s a pretty deadly experiment for a demon to be carrying out. I think the former of the two possibilities is probably the right answer, even then it seems like a bit of a stretch – what exactly did Aziraphale’s miracle do?

Moving on, we have another instance of Aziraphale calling Crowley a name that the demon would not wish to have as a label – “kind”. And as with Paris, the reaction is a very different one from what we see from him at Tadfield Manor, this time simply attempting to brush it off but this time the exchange happens without his glasses.

Not only that, there’s a little smirk on Crowley face suggests he’s actually rather pleased with the outcome of his actions.

Aziraphale seems very humbled by Crowley’s intervention here too, which is not something we’re used to seeing from him. I suspect he knows that he was in genuine danger during the meeting with the Nazis and is well aware of what a huge favour he’s just been afforded. And I’m sure he’s probably thinking about how badly things ended between them the last time they met. He also knows that thanks and appreciation are not something that Crowley does, so tries to make light out of it pointing out the most trivial of the consequences that this act of kindness has granted him – the paperwork.

But Crowley’s not done with his gifts, is he? If we set aside the question hovering around how he even knew there were any of Aziraphale’s prized books to be rescued in the first place (no seriously, how does he know? Maybe he saw them on the table before Harmony bundles them into the bag in the church, but he doesn’t seem to be paying that much attention), there’s no doubt that this is probably the most thoughtful gift someone could ever give the angel. And Crowley knows it very well – the relish on his face when he knows he’s about to deliver something that will give Aziraphale so much joy is absolutely previous.

And here we are. You all know what’s coming. In fact, there has so much coverage been done of the rest of this scene, that I’m not even going to bother talking about it.

What kind of fan would I be if I didn’t gush about the finger touch and Aziraphale’s look?! I’m going to try not to spend too much time on it though, purely because it really has been talked about by every single person before me, and will continue to be discussed by many.

So, the things I love about this are everything the fact that neither of them flinches when their fingers touch (this despite us not having seem them physically touch in any of the previous historical scenes); that they establish and maintain eye contact for the touch; and (last, but most definitely not least) that Crowley actually lifts his thumb to stroke Aziraphale’s finger when their digits meet. Seriously, that last one really gets me – it says so much about his knowledge of his feelings and his intent with the saving of the books. In all honesty, I watched that GIF about 10 times before moved on with the rest of this write-up, this tiny moment genuinely makes my heart sing. I also happen to love the extreme nonchalance of Crowley asking Aziraphale if he wants a lift home, as if none of the previous 5 minutes has just happened. Side note: this will be the first time that Aziraphale will meet the Bentley. He likely doesn’t even know that Crowley has a car, so being asked if he wants a “lift home” will be a first in their 6000 years of friendship.

And then of course, there’s Aziraphale’s look as Crowley leaves the scene.

He’s so adorable isn’t he? Only finally realising how important he is to Crowley, and that the feeling is mutual, after he’s been handed a bag of old books prised from the hands of a dead Nazi. Silly angel.

So the first thing I’ll point out about this scene involves a bit of gazing into the future (as far as the series was concerned anyway) – the pub that Crowley meets his cronies in is the Dirty Donkey. Which means he was conducting this meeting directly across the road from Aziraphale’s book shop. And has probably been hanging around in the general area of Aziraphale’s book shop. Like, a lot. It’s never talked about (or not yet anyway) so we have no idea of how frequently Crowley is in the area or why he picks this particular pub to conduct his criminal activities from, but it’s certainly worth noting.

Let’s give David Arnold another tip of the hat for his treatment of the theme tune for scene setting. This time we hear it in the stripped back tones of a 60s guitar sound, not so dissimilar to Buddy Holly’s style (apologies, that’s another bit of future gazing, unless you’ve read the Script Book, in which case you’ll know that Buddy Holly should have featured very prominently throughout season 1). Holly actually died in ’59, but that doesn’t stop this piece of soundtrack doing what this soundtrack always does so beautifully – enhance the setting of a scene.

I also quite enjoy the fact that the format of this scene appears to mirror the one from 1941 – opening with just one of our heroes, who appears to be getting themselves into potential danger, with the other coming to rescue them. There’s also a symmetry in the giving of gifts – Aziraphale’s presentation of the holy water mirroring Crowley’s saving of the books. It’s a lovely way to communicate to the audience that we are meant to view them as equals, and that they balance each other out (just as Crowley says way back in the Kingdom of Wessex).

We shouldn’t be surprised that Crowley refuses to tell his “employees” what exactly it is they’re going into the church for – I should think they would consider there to be something highly suspicious about breaking into a church to steal holy water after all. And I would dearly love to know what it was that Shadwell spent time in prison for, I mean I know he’s a distinct oddbod, but criminal? I wouldn’t say he had it in him. And for the record, £300 (the amount being paid to each criminal to do this job) equates to about £5.5K in today’s money. Not a bad little earner.

Let’s talk geography for a moment, shall we? Specifically, I’m talking about the alleyway that Shadwell has squirreled himself away down. Which looks suspiciously like the alleyway that runs down the side of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death in season 2 (again with the crystal ball, I know. There is a point, I promise).

The picture doesn’t make it painfully obvious, but the ramp, steps, and barrier that you can see on the left-hand side of the alleyway are a match – 1967 on the left, season 2 present day on the right. Not only that, we get a glimpse across the street from the alleyway entrance when we see Crowley turning towards his car.

Knowing what we know about Whickber Street from season 2, the positioning of the Bentley would appear to be directly outside Aziraphale’s shop, though the shop fronts tell a different story. What would seem to confirm that Crowley has in fact parked his car directly in front of the angel’s shop is the entrance to the corner unit – again 1967 on the left, season 2 present day on the right:

Perhaps this is just “the magic of television” and the need to re-use the same set for multiple different settings for cost purposes. I’m not so sure about that, but it seems almost too obvious for Crowley to be hanging around Soho in such a blatant way if he was trying not to be seen by Aziraphale. After all, the angel has been in the Bentley in 1941, so would know what it looked like, and it’s not like they would have been a common car in 1967.

I also want to take a quick moment to consider that Shadwell is hanging around an area in London that is painfully at odds with his views on sex workers, as we see in the way he speaks to Madame Tracey later. Perhaps those views are established later in his life, maybe even as a result of his spending time in London’s Red Light District (or at least, it was in the 1960s).

If you didn’t know something was about to happen as Crowley opens the car door, you should perhaps feel a little ashamed of yourself because… it’s the magical miracle noise! We know it’s not Crowley doing it because we can see him getting into the car, so I think it’s fair to say we should be assuming it has something to do with Aziraphale before we see him on camera. What I don’t understand is why he apparates inside the car. Or possibly why he bothers to apparate at all – as he’s about to point out, he works in Soho so it would be easy enough to simply approach Crowley on the street at any time. Perhaps it’s to ensure that the demon can’t make a hasty get-away? That doesn’t make a lot of sense in the declared canon of the series at this point. However, it’s my belief (and that of most of the fandom I think) that something happened between them after the scenes we get to see of 1941. I also think Aziraphale got spooked by it and left sharpish (more of that in the 1941 apology dance fanfic when I get to it). If we take that as canon, Aziraphale’s cautionary tone and covert apparition, along with Crowley’s look of surprise and longing at Aziraphale’s appearance make a lot of sense all of a sudden.

It looks as if Aziraphale is really struggling to say what he knows he must here, and the way Crowley reacts when he realises that the angel knows exactly what he’s planning makes it pretty clear that he’s not exactly comfortable with the topic of conversation either. I actually find it painful to watch this whole conversation (and I don’t think I’m the only one, though it’s not as tough as some we’ll come to later in both seasons). From the subtle revelation of how much Crowley has taken Aziraphale’s refusal to provide him with the holy water to heart (seeing as he knows exactly how many years have passed since that disagreement), to the searching look Aziraphale gives Crowley after he hands over the thermos (almost as it he’s trying to memorise his face), and everything in between, this is the most emotionally available we’ve seen the couple being with each other. And it takes its toll on them both – Crowley is rendered speechless and Aziraphale almost in tears, breathing heavily to try and stave them off. The angel is making a personal sacrifice to ensure Crowley stays out of danger here and Crowley knows it. What really is there to say, other than “thank you”? Alas, Aziraphale draws the line there (in a vaguely symmetrical fashion to what we say in Paris, when he asks Crowley if he can say thank you for the rescue), so he has to come up with something else. It’s such a desperate little gesture too - the only thing that he can offer to show any sort of favour in return is to offer Aziraphale a lift.

There’s a little reflexive noise from Crowley in response to Aziraphale’s refusal of his offer that really does convey how disappointed he is, and for once the angel is paying attention. I suspect he tells him not to look so disappointed because he finds it very hard to deny Crowley anything when he knows he really wants something. He even offers an alternative, something with promise and future in it, something that sounds suspiciously like a date.

Perhaps one day we could… I don’t know… Go for a picnic… Dine at the Ritz…

Crowley’s not done though, he’s going to keep trying to string out this meeting as long as he can. Let’s just bear in mind that his offer to take Aziraphale anywhere he wants to go is rather a moot point – they’re in Soho, a very small area of London, which is where Aziraphale works and lives. Even if we ignore the fact that the Bentley appears to be parked within 6 feet of the door to the book shop, there really wouldn’t be any need to drive to get from one place in Soho to another place in Soho. As such, I think this offer is simply Crowley wanting to spend time with Aziraphale, and it’s something he wants so much that he almost pleads with the angel to reconsider the invitation.

Tiny side note: the bullet holes you can see in the driver side window are referenced in the book. They’re actually a sticker, tied to a James Bond film promotion. The only time Crowley has ever put fuel in the Bentley he did to get it.

Aaaaaand we’re here. At the line. You all know the one.

Hnnnnnnnnh.

The first time I watched this show, I was only half paying attention and I just thought he was talking about Crowley’s driving. It wasn’t until I rewatched prior to bingeing through season 2 that I realised he really isn’t, and I can tell you it hit me like a tonne of bricks. If we assume it’s likely they haven’t seen each other since 1941, which makes sense if we’re also assuming that something happened between them at that time, Aziraphale has only been in the Bentley once before this (well, maybe multiple times in one evening, but you get the drift). What’s to say that one experience was typical of Crowley’s driving? Decades have passed since that evening, so it’s not out of the question to consider that his driving style might have changed in that time. And why not just say “yes thank you, but do you think you drive a bit slower”? Or even for Crowley to offer to drive slower on his behalf? No, this heartbreaking line has nothing to do with the driving at all, and Crowley’s lack of resistance to it and look of resignation says he knows it but has no idea who to talk the angel down from his position. This scene ends in the Script Book with Crowly driving away and Aziraphale watching him go, but my head canon has given me a different outcome here (which fits with what we actually see in the show), which I’ll be writing a fic about in the future.

This one has run a little long (hardly surprising given that it covers the 1941 AND 1967 historical scenes). I toyed with the idea of splitting into two parts but that felt excessive, particularly given I still have to deal with, what I think, is the first of the ineffable divorces later in this episode. As always, questions, comments, discussion, all welcome!

[authorxxxxxx]

Sugar | Leland Stottlemeyer x fem!reader

Series : Dt. Monk

Pairing : Captain Leland Stottlemeyer x fem!reader

Summary : He just got divorced with his ex - wife Karen after years of endless fights . He just moved out from their ex - shared house and feeling like a complete reck , he decides to sleep to his office for a few days until he can short some things out . Meanwhile you just recently lost your beloved grandparents because of old age . Feeling lost you decide to take a new job opportunity and move to the other side of the country . What you didn't know was that both of your lives , where about to change .

Tw : age -gap ( Leland is 42 y/o while the reader is 22 ) , Leland has some serious anger issues , at this point Monk is a tw on his own , attempted kidnapping and sexual harassment ( but all 2 of them are just mentioned and they are not graphic ) , reader has awful coworkers , light mentions of smut (towards the end) , Leland is protective over the reader , but fluff in the end .

Important note : English isn't my first language so if you come across any mistakes, please just bare with me .

I recently just started rewatching Dt. Monk and I couldn't help but fall in love all over again with the Captain of the SFPD , so I decided to finally write about him since I couldn't find almost anything online .

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You were currently standing in the middle of your small apartment in San Francisco . Examining your house you couldn't help but notice that this is your new home .

But for how long ?

For a couple of years ? So you can make some money and then fly back to Philadelphia ?

Or live here , in this new town , for the rest of your life ?

You can't go back home .

I mean , you watched some videos on the internet on how to "Properly Re-Start your whole entire life without anybody noticing".

It was helpful though, it really was .

Fortunately only your best friend Stella was supportive of your decision , to say yes in this new job opportunity and move here .

The San Fransisco Police Department was in serious need of new assisants for police officers and you happened to be the 1st one that they recommended .

Your grantfather was an honorable Army Veteran and your grandmother was a police officer for the Philadelphia Police department .

And with that you managed to become one of the best students on your field .

The moment that you found out that you got a free scholarship in the university of your dreams , you and your grandparents were beyond happy .

And now , here you are .

Look at you .

You looked at yourself in the mirror .

You did not look like someone that could become a police officer .

But you knew better that that .

In 2 days it's going to be your first day at your new job at the SFPD .

And everything is going to be fine .

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2/9/2002 SFPD

" Well Ms. Worthington , or would you like me to call you by your first name ? " The Captain asked you looking at you dead in the eyes .

That man .

" Whatever you prefer Captain . " You answered him quietly .

That man .

" Soo Y/N , let's have a look at your file shall we ? So you are 22 years old , born in 4th of October 1980 , graduated from The CUNY John Jay University of Criminal Justice with an excellent bachelors degree in Forensic Psychology . " The Captain said proudly .

" Well Y/N it looks like your a genius . And I am in desperate need of genius like you in my department . You got the job . You can start from today , right now if you like . We might need you after all . " The Captain said with a little smirk .

You wouldn't have been able to see it if you weren't so observeting .

"What am I even thinking ? He is 20 years older than me .

Have I completely gone crazy ? "

You asked yourself making your way to your office , that was beside Lieutenant Randy Disher .

You immediately realised that Randy was friendly and helpful . He even gave a complete tour of the building that the department is on .

" You kinda reminded me of someone familiar". Randy said to you while you were organizing your desk .

" Who ? " You then asked him curious.

" Of me . You remind him of me . That is a perfectly organised desk . I love it . Um , I'm Monk . Andrian Monk . " A man with a brown suit said to you .

He looked like he was in his early forties .

Like Stottlemeyer .

" Hi , and I'm Sharona Fleming . Mr Monk's assistant . I just wanted to say that I really liked your look miss . Um , Miss -

" Miss Y/N Worthington . She is one of the new assistants that we hired this weak . Forensic Psychologist . " A man with a baritone and deep voice suddenly said .

Captain Stottlemeyer had apparently come out of his office .

And was looking at you .

Scaning you .

Checking you out .

Who ?

You.

The Captain was looking at you .

" Are you perhaps related to a George Worthington . The Army Veteran ? " Monk asked you .

" Um he is my grandfather . He served in the Vietnam War . " You said proudly.

" Oh My God . My wife Trudy Monk had interviewed them . Both your grandparents back in the late 70s . Unfortunately she was killed 4 years ago . " Monk said .

" I'm so sorry to hear that . My condolences, I know how it feels to lose someone you love . " You said to him .

" Did you lost your husband too ? I was thinking maybe I could meet your grandfather, I meen he would have to come here , cause I can't fly . " He said .

" Andrian ! " Sharona yelled at him .

" No , I'm not married and I am so sorry Mr. Monk , but he can not fly either . Both my grantparents passed away last month . " You said to him and with that the conversation was over .

" Okay everybody , we have a case so I want everybody to come with me . You too sugar . " The Captain said .

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" She is 22 years old . " Monk said to him .

" Who is ? " He asked him back , acting like he did not know .

" The one you called sugar this morning . " Monk said while organising Lelands desk .

" I don't have a single idea of what you're talking about . And please for the love of God stop messing up my stuff . "

" You'll thank me later . Don't act like you don't understand . "

Leland was starting to get angry and that was obvious . But he wasn't angry at Monk . No. He was angry at himself . He got divorse nearly 3 months ago and know he's head over his toes with a woman who is 20 years younger than him . Maybe she doesn't even like him .

" Well she is obviously into you . There isn't that better ? " Monk said to him .

" Yeah I know . " Leland answered to him .

They both sat in outer silence for a couple of seconds .

" Wait what ? " Leland asked him immediately .

" See I knew you would like it better this way . "

" No Monk , abouth her , the other thing you said before that . " He started raising his voice .

" I shouldn't have said that . " Monk said quietly .

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For the past couple of months he said nothing .

He of course wanted to .

He was just waiting foe the right moment .

It was a cold November day and his day hadn't start very well .

And when he arrived at the parking lot of the building he immediately tried to spot your car .

Your black Honda Sylvia was not parked at it's designated spot .

Great !

You weren't here .

He parked his 1988 Jeep Cherokee next to his police car and headed to his office .

Surprisingly you were there .

But you seemed to be anxious and frustrated .

You felt his gaze upon you .

" Goodmorning Captain . I printed the copy's that you wanted . You need anything else ? " You asked him .

" Follow me Miss Worthington and then close the door behind you . " He ordered.

" Is everything alright Captain ? "

" Where is your car Miss Worthington ? " He asked you .

" Parked in the parking lot Sir . Why ? "

" It's not where it's supposed to be . And I want to know why . "

" I switched spots with officer Adams Sir . "

" Nobody can get along or even work with him . He is never cooperative and always complaints if he doesn't get it his way . So I'll ask you this once and I expect the truth from you . Does officer Adams causes you problems ? "

" Yes Captain . Him and his assistant are always commenting and judging the way that I live my life and the way that I work . For the past weeks they've been blackmailing me , that if I don't do what they want , they'll find a way to make me lose my job . Now Sir I obviously don't want that , so when they asked for my parking spot , I gave it to them . "

" Thank you Miss Worthington . Now let's make this problem disappeared okay ? " He asked you while he was getting up going to open the door for you .

" Watch and learn . Go sit on your desk sugar . " He says to you the moment you step out from his office .

" Hey Adams ! Guess what -

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" He fired them ? " Sharona asked you shoked with Stottlemeyer's strange behavior .

" Yes , I was in absolute shocked when he did that . I thought that he hated me for no reason . " You said to her kinda feeling a little bit sad .

" Are you kidding me Y/N ? He is crazy for you . Adrian has told me everything about it , yes and I find that amazing . "

" Sharona , I can't . He is my Captain and he is 42 years old . He is not looking for a fling . "

" Who said that he is looking for a fling ? You are a perfect woman and I personaly believe that age doesn't matter . I had Benjie when I was younger than you . I think that you need someone older right now and the Captain is perfect for you . I know it seems kinda weird , but I mean it's your life . " She said to you .

You stood in the middle of your kitchen making her some tea for the night .

" Tell me Y/N . What are you thinking ? I'm telling you Andrian said to me that he's never seen the Captain like that . You both like each other . Go for it . Right ? " She said once again to you .

" I don't- I don't know Sharona . " You said to her thinking of the Captain .

" Look why don't we go out tonight ? Just you and me ? And have fun? What do you say ? Huh ? Benjie is at my sisters and Andrian - well Andrian he's gonna be just fine . Come on Y/N you need to loosen up a little . " Sharona said to you with pleading eyes .

" Are you sure ? " You asked her feelings anxious .

" What can possibly go wrong ? " Sharona asked you , smiling .

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" Are you sure about this ? " You asked her one last time while you were sitting inside a club , drinking some bear .

" Everything's okay Y/N relax . " She answered you , while dancing between the strangers .

Not even half a hour later , Sharona was drunk and dancing with a man she met . At least he seems to be sober and a good guy . You decided to leave her be . She needed this .

Suddenly you felt a man's hand grabbing your bad and a intoxicated breath next to you . " Well look who's here all by herself . What did the nurse dumped you ? Little bitch . " Adams .

Adams was in the same club as you , drunk as fuck and grabbing your ass at the same time .

" Get of me ! " You screamed at him , trying to get away .

" Oh come on now , I know you like it . It's my time now . " He said to you and started to drag you to the back of the club .

You tried punching him , scratching him with your nails , resisting, but he was just stronger than you .

" Stop fighting or it'll be a lot worse that it all really is . " Adams said to you .

And the you remembered . You quickly got your phone out of your pocket and paged the station .

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Stottlemeyer was in the station that night and he was the one that received your pager .

He reads : Emergency! Code red! - Officer Worthington

He grabbed his gun and his car keys trying to memorise the location thet was on his pager .

And with the anger boiling in his head he made his way to the parking lot .

" Where are you ? What are you doing ? " He asked himself while speeding towards your location .

He found himself outside the club that Sharona was talking about the other day .

But you where no near to be found .

Kidnapping .

" At the back . " He said to himself and exited the car , gun to his hand.

He could hear you fighting , grunting and screaming .

Adam's was trying to get you inside his truck , while his ex - assistan was in the driver's seat ready to drive off .

" Get your hands off of her or I'll shoot you . " Leland screamed angrily at him .

You were outside in one of the coldest nights of the year wearing nothing above your outfit .

Your face was read from the cold and the fighting .

" Help . " Was all that you could say to him .

Leland saw red .

" I said step away from her . " He repeated stepping closer too you .

" What is it Captain ? Dis I took your little toy ? " Adam's said to him .

A shot was heard .

Leland had shot him in the foot making Adams scream in pain and fall down to the ground .

" Come here sugar . " Leland said calmly to you .

" I need a backup . " Was the last thing you heard before the cold took you out .

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2 weeks later

" I'm telling you Doctor , she is just not the same anymore . "

" How can she be after that ? It was a traumatic experience for her . Leland what is the real reason you are here ? " Dr. Kroger asked Leland .

Stottlemeyer had asked Monk for his psychiatrist number so he could talk about you .

He wanted to know-

No he needed to know how to approach you .

" Tell me what do you feel . How does that make you feel . I mean her . Officer Y/N . How does she make you feel ? "

" It's all about feelings isn't it ? " Leland asked and Kroger nodded .

" It scares me , she is half my age . "

" So if only she wasn't 22-

" No , I mean it's just a little bit weird isn't it ? " Stottlemeyer asked Kroger .

" Do you think it's weird ? "

" Yes and no . But it doesn't charge my feelings for her . "

" So what are you waiting for ? " Kroger asked with a smile . " You saved her from possibly the most traumatic experience . Why don't you go talk to her and be with her until the end ? "

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He hates himself so much right now .

" Captain , what are you doing here ? " You asked him .

How could he possibly answer to your question right now , when you where dressed like that ?

Black sweatpants and a white crop-top - without anything underneath .

His eyes were glued on your nipples .

You knew it but you couldn't make yourself cover up . You kinda liked the feeling of him checking you out .

" Is everything alright Sir ? "

" No . I mean yes Y/N . Look- " He stopped talking .

He was standing right outside your apartment , grey sweatpants and a dark blue SFPD hoodie .

You sat in complete silence for a while , just staring at each other .

Eyes. Lips.

" Do you want to come in ? It's kinda cold . " You said to him quietly , being unable to look anywhere else except his blue eys .

" I don't think it's a good idea . " He said . His eyes still on your lips .

" Then just kiss me already ? "

" I wont be able to hold myself after . " He said with the most baritone and deep voice you've ever heard .

" I don't care . "

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You actually didn't understand how you got to this point .

You , laid out in your apartment's couch , while you were kissing with your Captain .

His hands had already taken off your pants , and now he was trying to get your panties off too .

His lips had gone from your jawline , to you neck and finally to your collarbones .

" Spread your legs out for me sugar . "

——————————————————————————————

Tell me if you’d like more of him , cause I’ll be happy to write even more. 🫶

@unimportantbabymilksharkte

[triplegoths]

untagged

i cant fucking take living like this anymore

i cant do it i have to end it soon theres literally nothing for me here anymore. its too much to do. im never gonna fucking have another close in real life relationship.

i want to just like order some food at work so im not more miserable being here but i dont have the strength or stomach to eat something. ill eventually try maybe. i dont know. the drugs make me not eat like a fucking sick dog already and everything rn just says i dont deserve it

i have no motive or energy to do anything but work or somethimes playing a game but even that were usually unable bc were too tired.

whats the fucking issue with me!!!! i just dont give a shit anymore i dont want to do anything nothing makes me happy everythinf eventually juat makes me feel scared and sick and weird. every time i try to make fun or have plans it goes horrible and it just feels worse so i wont anymore ill just fucking rot alone like life wants me to

nobody here can help me and if i could i couldnt afford it so who fucking cares its cheaper to kill myself and lose the body so they dont need funeral costs. theyd misgender and shave me anyway probably

im just so fucking over it all im never gonna be happy like this. i got nothing. theres no good its just working til i fucking kill myself and putting myself through fuxking agony constantly for a life that continues to just KICK AND KICK AND KICK AND KICK me when im fucking down. i cant handle anything else happening. im trying so hard to get things done and theres just fuxking nothing. i will never ever be enough and ill never feel enough.

doesnt matter what or when or the circumstance its so depressing that its not just romantic relations too im so fuckinf scared in groups i automatically feel unwelcome and hated and like i should just go off by myself because im literally so unlikeable and everything has proved it forever. like genuinely as soon as i realized there were more than 2 people i got terrified and started questioning everythinf i did and wanted to run away bc i felt like i wasnt meant to be there and it was ovipus and i was being annoying like fucking ALWAYS GOD IM SO SICK OF BEING LIKE THIS can i just shut up forever? dirk please come back to front im tired of annoying all the people who so graciously allow me to exist around them so i dont have to be in such crushing loneliness all the time i feel like such a fucking baby and everybody probably thinks im such an annoying drug addict too can i just quit it and fucking feel and then kill myself already when i realize its worse

like im never gonna be able to afford any of the shit i need to heal and i dont even wanna try bc ill get 3 appointments in and will run out of money and continue doing that and then ill die bc i cant afford anything else. like why would i do that to myself ill just suffer like this and just do my best forever til i can only rot. id rather get it fuckinf over with and just die now. this isnt a life

i go frm one box go another. rotting. i rot at home alone or i go to work alone. i dont really go out. i dont really talk to anybody. i dont really see anybody. i have 1 irl friend who talks to me and lives in town. the other i dont see her often and honestly feel so embarassed of myself around her because of how i am that i can barely convince myself to see her sometimes even if she is in town. the other person is one of my exs and he doesnt give a shit about me he just wants sex bc thats the only thing im good for. i feel like i just annoy and make everybody uncomfortable conwtantly i dont wanna do it anymore i want to shut up

i always do it i always just talk endlessly frm the second i fucking could before most kids could talk even and i just never shut up did i? my parents were always annoyed by me talking about things that brought me joy (and they never believed me for things that were upsettinf and it was just fake and i needed to be quiet about it bc theyre not taking me to the doctor. so i stopped talking about it to my family and everybody else in my life in that era did the same. the bullies. my friends who ignored me. no matter the form it was always like that i just need to learn to keep quiet and go away and not need anything ever again. i couldnt fucking learn it every time i got a red or yellow card for talking (usually trying to ask questions bc i didnt understand or couldnt see or couldnt hear in elementary school. or to make conversation bc i was friendly and had no friends and my parent didnt play with me so i was lonely. nobody ever liked me bc i was weird. i feel like such a bitter dickhead but i get so jealous when i see that people talk to others every day. especially in person. im so fucking alone i literally get so excited when people want to call with me even if it makes me really scared (and sometimes if im not comfortable enough or feeling sad i will run a away from that too because im so scared to fuckinf annoy people and say something stupid or be boring or trying too hard or just fucking being a total downer because theres nothing good ever going on for me. i got so depressed goin on bsky today and seeing everyone playing webfishing when i cant. but even so lik.e maybe im glad i djdnt join bc one of them was in a big group with new mut and then all strangers so like. its better i wasnt able to bc i would probably jusg feel worse and run away frm everyone bc i feel inadequate snd guilty for taking up space. i always feel like im bothering everyone no matter what. fuck my exhusband in general but he also made me so much more insecure than i was already. he made me feel so annoying and he broke my communication. i was alone with him and JUST him for so long. i could only communicate in nonsense phrases sometimes (literal jibberish not memes) because thats all he would respond to or wouldnt talk to me until i did. he changed my whole pattern of speech and i still almost lapse into it sometimes. it was never any kind of real conversation about anything i felt like it withered my brain. nothing ever in depth just stupid sensless bullshit and jokes (that were often insulting me and made me feel like shit) and i was doing it for fucking nothing because everything else sucked too!!!! the only time there was ever a conversation was when i was BEGGING HIM to stop sometbing or do something for the millionth time. or him defending himself or trying to force my support and trigger my ocd (i genuinely think he was trying to make it worse he never respected it ever he mever respected a single part of me) or him fighting with me on something again (usually the thing was due to him and i just was not being forgiving and quiet and turning off my emotions enough about it. learned numb happiness)

my existence is like a plague and theres nothing here for me. theres even less left of me after he got done with me. he stripped my personality all the way down and forcef me to mirror him. everythinf will always be rotted and ill feel like a horrid shell of a person any time im near anyone. the only option is being alone. maybe this time i will learn and just fuxking stop all of this so we can stop being a curse on everybody. even if i could afford mental help theres nobody that can help me here so its all a waste. i feel like everybody will just hurt me again. doesnt even have to be a partner i feel like every single person is gnna realize sooner or later that im not worth it or they dont like me (ir even hate me) and that im just too fucking annoying to be around

i dont want to be annoying anymore. i wish it was like right after he went to prison again when i didnt have anything and was an empty shell and had nothing to say or talk about that wasnt venting. i wish i never got back some of my "sparkle" or whatever the fuck people call it. mines not a sparkle. its a noxious cloud of toxic annoyance fumes and everybody just has to keep their masks up til i vacate the area. why would i ever fucking want this to come back. i need to shut the fuck up i really do. just take our personality and every crumb of joy again im so sick of it. make it so i dont have any of those thoughts to even post. thus sparing everyone from having to be like "UGH this motherfucker AGAIN. does he ever shut the fuck up? is he ever quiet? can he just log off already? this guy definitely has no life. why does he always have to butt into everything"

that way i can just post like. the shortest most boring updates ever like "back to work! only 3 days this week for the 39 hours. more time off is always good" and then shut up for days and then "got paid nice. going to the bank and then grabbing a few groceries" like thats do much better. nobody needs to fucking know man its sad and depressing and all the same OR you are the most obnoxious prick on any site youre ever and you ruin everybodys day when theyre forced to see you in their notifs or on their timeline

ive probably already muted me bc it didnt even take a week for me to just talk way too muxh when none of of it is important and nobody wants to hear it

even if im not allowed to talk frm my body. its already annoying enough in text and then psyically i just stutter and trip over myself or cant think or forget what i was saying

i wanna delete everything i have and crawl into the earth. i hate being alive. the one time i find something that makes me happy even the littlest bit i cant do it anymore. disallowed by the universe and painfully reminded of the fact im supposed to alone and theres actually nothing for me. it doesnt get better for me it only gets worse. and it makes me feel stupid for believing it could even though thats few and far between. theres nothing left for me i need to just get whatever drugs i decide on and have one last hoorah and take enough to kill me. which hopefully wont even be that hard because im mixing downers and uppers constantly so like its only a matter of time right. my nose hurts and i feel like crying and my body is killing me again so im taking both things again. one for pain. one for maybe like. a little bit of energy but mainly so i dont feel so absolute shit. i just want it all to stop i dont wanna get better anymore im sick of it every time i try i get fucking worse or am crushed by something else even harder than before im DONE WITH IT IM FUCKING OVER IT i just wanna end it theres nothing fucking here for me im never making it. im sick of trying. im sick of always helping even while going through the wordt shit imaginable. im not sick of it. i want to help and i love helping. but it makes me fucking SICK to think about how ive spent my whole life caring for others. have been let down or ignored or told i was lying or had them hurt me instead so many times over i just fucking wish i was important enough to have gotten help when i needed it. to be listened to enough for somebody to even acknowledge or believe there is an issue (or simply convince me im overreacting)

it was fucking stupid of me to think my last ditch effort of doing art school because every other thing i failed miserably at because im too stupid and cant do enough and dont have the support. it doesnt even fucking matter bc my body is slowly and slowly getting closer to just saying "no fuck you" to the art i NEVER HAD TIME TO MAKE TO MY FULL ABILITY IN THE FIRST PLACE. and then ill never be able to do it ever again because i cant get help

i am going to die knowing i never finished a single thing in my life and nobody will ever know what i was capable of.

i want to die in the most painful and uncomfortable way possible because its what i deserve. its the only thing i truly deserve. i need to endanger myself more than i already do obviously its not killing me fast enough if im still kicking and dragging myself across the pavement. i should be dragged along the pavement by a semitruck instead.

i wanna kill myself so bad tonight man. im gonna try not to bc my friend really needs me rn. but i really might relapse. im so fucking tired i want to just go and sleep but ill stay up just for that. i should just cut a vein already why do i care about beinf careful. there was a thing i wanted to do... cut myself with a razor right after i use it to chop **** because maybe itll make me feel good when im not or just fuck my heart enough to make me faint or do smth stupider

ive been writing this for so long im fucking done. i got 2.5 more hours here. i hope i find my mouse when i go home so i change my mind but i honestly really just want to end it right now. im at the end of the line really. im gonna work til i die and never get a break

"everyday it feels like noone sees and noone knows. every day i kinda wanna cancel the show." /lyr

please for the love of god like this if you read all of it i just spilled my whole guts and not even well

[mylittleredgirl]

Least favorite Star Trek character in each series?

i love all my children equally how could you do this to me!!!!

slightly more rational answer: i have been thinking about this since yesterday when i got the ask and it's like every time i think i have an answer i immediately go "oh but i love them for XYZ" and they move up in the ranks. ultimately most treks are ensemble shows and removing anybody from the ensemble makes it all fall apart!

gun to my head, though, bearing in mind that i love all of them:

tos: gun to my head it's chapel i'm afraid and i feel bad about it. she doesn't really get to grow much and the other most-static character is probably chekov and i had a massive crush on him. in 1967 when they went "you know this show should add a mop top for the teenyboppers out there" they were talking specifically about me 30 years later.

tng: i would take the bullet for real.

ds9: man i'm going through main characters and then secondary characters and then tertiary characters and how are they all so essential and good????? literally i have gone thru a list of characters and a list of episodes and am coming up blank. even the villains are fantastic. eddington is annoying but he's supposed to be and his episodes are all great. sloan himself is fun it's just what section 31 did to star trek in general that sucks. like????? there's not a single name that shows up in the credits that doesn't make me go YEAHHHHHH.

voy: if we can count recurring characters i'm saying barclay. i liked him a lot as a character in tng and but go "for fuck's sake" whenever i see "guest star dwight schultz" on the voyager credits. i dislike pretty much every earth-contact episode after "message in a bottle" so maybe i don't like voyager-barclay because he just happens to be there?? for main cast it'd be neelix shut up shut up i love him in the ensemble but sometimes when they give him his own episode it's too much.

ent: sorry malcolm lovers this was the only show that was an easy choice. like we SHOULD dig into the fact that essentially his greatest wish is to sacrifice himself and he won't be happy until he dies on the job. klingon behavior but not at all for the fun and glory of it just because he kind of just doesn't enjoy being alive???? archer is terrible in so many ways but he's also much more enjoyable to watch being terrible.

disco: this is actually a very weird show to even know who to choose from. the cast changes every year! we barely even know the bridge crew! who is interesting enough to count as a main character?? of the main title cast i'm kind of hot and cold with adira. i like them but the sheer amount of anxiety radiating off them at all times makes me tense up whenever they come on screen. (i just realized it's kind of ironic to say adira because they're basically a mix of wesley and ezri, who would probably make this list for most other trekkies but are two of my absolute faves.) (i will think long and hard about this)

snw: i don't know that i have enough of a read on any of them? i still haven't finished it. chapel (again?? oh no) is the one i had the hardest time warming up to early on because she seemed the most wink-y and out of place in a franchise that usually takes silly things very seriously, but i did warm up to her!

lower decks: if we can go with guest characters i hate badgey (only one on here that gathers the "hate" rating!!). i don't find him (it??) funny and i know i SHOULD find it funny which means whenever it shows up i am both not having a good time and feel bad about not having a good time. the main characters are all brilliant. gun to my head it's boims but it's a close one i love them all.

i don't even know what other shows we have i've run out of steam???

oh right picard. captain shaw??? why is such a large subset of fandom so horny for him??? and shipping him with seven of nine of all things???? is it just White Guy With Trauma because there are like. a lot of other white guys with trauma in this franchise to choose from.

[rftvs-au]

Chapter 2: I wanna ruin our friendship…

The day Vox’s heart was broken and his hatred for Alastor begun.

“To twenty years!!” they both announced in unison with the clank of their glasses.

Clank

They chuckled, soft jazz lightly flowing from the radio off in the distance, the two humming to the music as they enjoyed the moment, grins plastered on their faces. "Cheers!" they said happily, both taking a shot of whiskey.

“Twenty years, huh..?” Vox murmured, sighing with disbelief and raising a curious eyebrow. He looked into Alastor’s eyes, seeing him so happy made his stomach flutter with butterflies, made him smile uncontrollably wide, made his screen grow brighter in color, made him feel so many different things.

Looking off to the side, he chuckled to himself and nodded slowly, feeling the same amount of disbelief and shock that Vox displayed. “Twenty years..” Alastor repeated out loud in a hushed tone, humming in agreement. “What a number!” he added with glee, turning his head to meet Vox’s gaze.

A brief laugh left him, swirling his finger around the rim of his empty glass, swaying his head to the soft music. “What a number indeed..” Vox breathed out with a lovestruck smile, eyes never leaving the other man.

Alastor leaned forward, resting his elbow on the bar and cupping his cheeks in his palms, his expression completely poised. “I still remember way back when we first met,” he murmured, thinking way back to their first meeting, truly showing how far their friendship had come, how close they had become. “Back when you had only just arrived—“ He rambled on and on, doing multiple hand gestures as he recalled first meeting Vox.

Vox, on the other hand, just hummed along in agreement, nodding his head from time to time, barely taking in his friend’s words. He found himself lost in thought, glaring at Alastor with nothing but awe and admiration as he rested the corner of his screen against his hand. ‘How could anybody be so beautiful?’ he would think to himself, his eyes roaming Alastor’s breathtaking face, his heart fluttering to life with love.

“It’s been over a decade now, hmm?” Vox just about caught Alastor asking, snapping him out of his little trance. "Y-yeah!!" he embarrassingly muttered out in response, smiling widely, hoping Alastor hadn’t taken notice of his gawking. “I can’t believe it’s been—“

Vox cleared his throat, immediately gaining his friend’s attention. “You know...” he started, his arm sneakily snaking behind his back as if he were hiding something. “I’ve been...uh…meaning to tell you...something,” he got out with a nervous laugh, looking away.

“You are..by far..one of the greatest people I’ve ever met in this messed-up hell,” he said with a laugh, eyes gleaming with joy, “and I am so, SO lucky to have you in my life.” He rested his hand upon Alastor’s, his expression softening and his voice wavering ever so slightly. “And I want to spend the rest of my afterlife with you.” He smiled sweetly as he spoke, looking at his friend with hope. “And I would love to be there for each other,” Vox said with pure admiration and love in his eyes.

“Vox, please don’t-“ Alastor murmured, knowing exactly what Vox was going to say next.

“What I’m trying to say is..” “Vox-“ “I love you, my dear,” he said softly, gazing fondly into Alastor’s eyes, desperately searching for any sort of reciprocation.

Alastor tensed up at the confession, looking off to the side in a desperate attempt to avoid eye contact as he and Vox shared a deep and uncomfortable silence. He couldn’t face Vox, he couldn’t face him now he had just confessed his feelings for him.

“Alastor?” Vox murmured, the confusion evident in his voice, his tone slowly becoming melancholic. His eyes widened. “Al, please..” he pleaded with desperation, his hand slipping down to rest on Alastor’s thigh as he leaned slightly closer. “Please- please say something-“ his hand tightened around Alastor’s thigh, making the other man shift uncomfortably.

“Al, what we have– you can’t throw that way….I love you….I need you!” he said, just barely above a whisper, his eyes filled with panic.

Alastor placed his hand on Vox’s, keeping it there for a moment as he looked down at their hands, before sighing and shoving it off his leg. “I’ll..go get us some more drinks,” he responded with a hasty tone, tilting his head up to look at the upset man.

“Al, I..” Vox mumbled out with worry, before letting out a deep sigh and slowly nodding his head. “That’d..be nice,” he said with a small smile, watching Alastor stand up. “I’ll be waiting here.”

And with that, he waited, humming to pass the time. He brought his hand in front of him, looking down at the flower sat in his hand, eyes narrowing with distain.

Vox huffed out a breath, his eyes never leaving the flower. It was Alastor’s favorite, he had planned on gifting it to him if things went well.

He continued to wait. He waited, and he waited, and he waited... yet, there was no sign of Alastor. His smile slowly began to fade into a straight line as he came to realize the truth, the truth he tried so hard to ignore.

Alastor wasn’t coming back.

“Shit!” Vox balled his hand into a fist, slamming it onto the table with anger, recalling Alastor’s words, his expression, his reaction. “F-fùck..” He grumbled out, static buzzing from his screen; all eyes were on him.

A collection of noise bubbled up at the corner of his eyes, almost resembling tears. He brought his hand up to eye view, crushing the flower before discarding it to the floor as he stood up from his chair, trudging towards the door, ignoring all the bewildered glances from other demons.

As the door slammed shut behind him, a wave of anger and regret welled up inside him. Why couldn't Alastor love him? He was certain he had done everything just right, but clearly that wasn't the case. What more could Alastor possibly want from him?

Running his hand over his screen, he let out a glitchy sob. He balled his fist by his side, hand shaking with anger and defeat. Leaning back against the door, he scoffed, eyebrows knitting together as he heard the rain hit the floor—another problem to deal with.

Struggling to keep himself together, the anger he felt began to fade, replaced by a creeping sense of sadness. "Oh Al..." Vox whispered out, "I'm sorry.."

<——Previous chapter

Next chapter———>

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▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|၊||၊|။• 0:10

[jarita123]

I do want Tom to go and do other things than Marvel. He is so talented it would be a shame if he didn´t. I am incredibly excited for The Life of Chuck and we definitely need more of The Night Manager.

But at the same time, I want to see him more as *this* Loki. He got an awesome new clothes, absolutely fantastic new powers, and we barely saw him use both. And he could still have so many stories to tell. Only looking back into comics which offfers possibilites for the God of Stories himself.

And also, Kevin Feige *must* know that Tom is one his biggest assets right now and probably rains money on Tom. Yes, the new Deadpool trailer is hyping again but I saw more excitement about TVA appearing, or Hugh returning as Wovlerine than Deadpool himself. It is a big unknown and could backfire. Or could be a hit. But the truth is that there are only a few core characters carrying the MCU now, and Loki is one of them.

I would like to see Tom back for Secret Wars (where he will be 99%), but also finally reunite with Chris. If he appeared in Thor 5, I would not mind at all.

And most of all, him and Owen are gold. Their chemistry even on stage, watching the two of them interacting and talking, was absolutely stunning. They obviously share a lots of creative ideas, have similar hobbies and I think given Owen´s invention and Tom´s way of thinking everything through, created a unique duo. I could imagine them doing a projct outside of Marvel, if I am perfectly honest. And I would not mind watching another season of the two of them doing the time cop budies schtick.

And I loved the finale, I loved how the arc wrapped but the more time goes by, the more I think possible S3 could work. Maybe use those thousand years Loki was going back to learn physics. I am sure he was not just doing that...or maybe just give them more time in the Avengers movie.

But mostly, him and Mobius should just reunite. I am not a shipper or don´t really care about romance, and if Loki would end up NOT kissing anybody, I could care less. But it would be shameful not to use them in the future. If they are smart at Marvel, they must see it.

And lastly....I am NOT dissing Sophia di Martino here. To see all three of them on stage was a delight and she obviously loves what she is doing. But the Loki/Sylvie thing really did not work for me. I don´t care about selfcest or whatever people came up with. This thing does not even exist in real life as it is a fantasy concept. We have seen a movie where the character had a child with his former female self and the child was...him. So really, it is a sci-fi and everything is possible. I just think the sort of sibling or friends chemistry worked much better. And...to be honest, I am not sure I need to see her in the future MCU by just herself. Sylvie for me personally is not that interesting because in season 1, she was basically a plot point and a love interest, where Waldron threw something on the wall like: "Hey, have Loki to fall in love with himself and we can figure out her personality later!", dropped her on us midway through and asked us to care for her.

Obviously clueless what to do with her, because Waldron left without leaving any notes what he was going to do with her - if anything except the "fall in love with himself" thing, they decided to write her as anti-Mobius. So she has no real agenda, wants to be left alone then changes her mind, then gets in the way and then hangs around the TVA "to help" only to just...being there, doing nothing, just stating the obvious. And at the end, she was the only one happy because she finally got what she wanted all along. So I am honestly not even sure what more her character has to offer - but I will be gladly surprised. I just think she is, at this point, the least interesting from all the Loki characters, and I count even OB and Casey to that equation. But again, I will be happy if they surprise me and will make her a character that is more than just angry and vengeful and lectures people around about what she thinks is right and wrong. Please, surprise me, Marvel, here, as well.

I think B-15 and Ravonna were in S2 served far better, however they were not as present as Sylvie but B-15 had a beautiful arc and Ravonna was an awesome antagonist whose intentions were obvious - however she found a cruel way how to reach them (kudos to Gugu).

So I would not mind seeing them ALL back for more, I loved them as a bunch, the whole group and the way they all were together from episode 4 on was great.

But really, we just *need* Loki and Mobius together once more, even if they at least should say a proper goodbye to each other because they did not have the chance.