#team 3B

[black-raby]

⚠️sorry but google traductor

クリスマス Prince

(prince of legend love royale)

Sensei is jelous (was 😭)

Haru: いいよ、仕事休みだし。可愛いAleちゃんとのデートのためなら。 (OK, I'm off work. If it's for a date with cute Ale...)

Yuki Sensei: Mhon, こっち側を歩きなさい. (Mhon, walk this side.)

[5tupidusrnam3]

artfight art dump 😼😼 I forgor

Character by The_enderdragon on artfight

Character by clownrattle on artfight

under the read more thing is a more sketch like drawing

Characters by clownrattle on artfight again 😼

bye I’m gonna work on revenge!!! (Ice cube bfdi bfdi bfdi ice cube REVENGE REVENGE REVENGE WITH FIRE AND EVERYONE BURNIGN!!!!!!! Everyone burning is what ice cube wants not me that might’ve turned out to be a missunderstanding sorry I got carried away in bfdi)

[happy-emmdings]

Captain Swan Vibes 1/2⚓️ 🦢

Seasons 2&3&4

[futuremrscameron]

edward teach i’m sorry i was not in the room when the hair department was coming up with what your hair should look like

​YOU CAN’T TELL ME IT WOULDN’T EAT

[blue-b-bro]

6A giving us the best thing this show ever came with: psychologically tormenting Stiles

Oh my God they Dereked Stiles

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.1

Chapter One: Hide Your Heart From Sight

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Celebrities, Starstruck,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Welcome to this disaster of a fic that I have constantly daydreamed about. Logistically, yes, it is so improbable and unrealistic— but there’s a 0.001% chance that it could happen… to you. It’s nice to wonder and dream. I like wondering. Granted, I’ve never worked in production ever… I am studying advertising and arts soooo that’s as much knowledge I have tehe. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: It Could Happen To You by Laufey

��� Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

The hum of the plane’s engines filled the air as you settled into your seat, trying not to fidget. You glanced at your boarding pass again, as if to double-check you weren’t hallucinating. Seat 3B—business class. Marvel had spared no expense for the production team’s travel, but you still couldn’t quite believe you’d be flying so comfortably.

What shocked you even more, though, was the man lowering himself into the seat next to yours: Pedro Pascal. Yes, that Pedro Pascal. The man whose movies you’d watched obsessively before joining this production, the actor who somehow seemed both unattainably larger-than-life and heartbreakingly down-to-earth.

“Hi,” he said with a warm smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Looks like we’re seatmates.”

You froze for a moment, then managed a weak, “Hi.” Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you mentally scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete idiot.

“You’re with the crew, right?” Pedro asked, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “What do you do?”

“Oh, um,” you stammered, “I’m just a production assistant. It’s my first big project.”

“No kidding? That’s awesome,” he said, genuinely sounding impressed. “First time working on a Marvel movie? How’s it going so far?”

“It’s… surreal,” you admitted, relaxing slightly under his easygoing demeanor. “I mean, it’s been amazing, but also kind of overwhelming. There’s so much to do, and everyone’s so talented. I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

“I get it,” Pedro said, nodding. “First big gig can be a lot. But hey, you’re here. That means someone saw something in you, right?”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Pedro asked you about your favorite movies, your hobbies, and how you’d gotten into production work. You told him about your love for art direction and set design, your dream of one day being a production designer, and your side passion for writing and music. When you mentioned you played guitar and sang, he raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll have to play something for us on set sometime,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed nervously. “I don’t know about that. I’d probably die of embarrassment.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he replied, his tone light but mischievous.

By the time the plane landed, you were buzzing—partly from the conversation and partly from the fact that you’d just spent hours talking to Pedro Pascal as if he were an old friend.

The buzz quickly faded when you arrived at the hotel. You stood in the lobby with the rest of the crew, listening as the location manager, Duncan, argued with the front desk staff. Apparently, there’d been a mix-up with the bookings. The hotel was overbooked due to a telecommunications conference, and somehow, you’d been assigned to share a suite… with Pedro Pascal.

“This has to be a mistake,” you muttered to yourself, your anxiety spiking as Duncan tried to sort things out. But no matter how much back-and-forth there was, the conclusion remained the same: there were no other rooms available.

“Look,” Pedro said finally, stepping in with his usual calm demeanor. “It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing if she’s okay with it.”

You blinked up at him, your mind racing. “I…”

“Hey,” he said gently, noticing your hesitation. He leaned in slightly, his voice soft but steady. “Look at me. I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it. No pressure.”

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Duncan, who looked as stressed as you felt. Finally, you nodded. “I’m fine with it if everyone else is.”

“Great,” Pedro said, flashing you a reassuring smile. “It’s settled, then.”

Duncan pulled you aside before you headed to the elevators. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, his tone fatherly.

“Yes,” you said, forcing a smile. “Is there any kind of form I need to sign, or…?”

“No, it all falls under the NDA from your employment,” he assured you. “But seriously, if you need anything, just text me.”

You thanked him and joined Pedro in the elevator. The ride up to the suite was silent, save for the soft dinging of the floors passing by. When you finally stepped into the room, you couldn’t help but gape. It was a spacious suite with two bedrooms on opposite sides, a small kitchenette, and a cozy living area.

“This isn’t so bad,” Pedro said, dropping his bag by the door. He turned to you, his expression kind. “Do you have a preference for which room?”

You fidgeted with the strap of your bag. “Um, no, you can pick.”

“Ladies’ choice,” he insisted, his tone playful.

“Okay,” you said, gesturing to the room on the right. “I’ll take that one.”

“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

As you unpacked in your room, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You were sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal. For at least a week. And somehow, you had to act like a normal, functioning human being the entire time.

You took a deep breath and flopped over on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Letting out a huff of air in disbelief, you muttered to yourself, “This has to be some sort of dream… or prank, right?”

Placing both hands over your face, you rubbed it in exasperation. “Get your shit together, girl. No screwing things up, no more internal freakouts. He’s a person, like you. Mhm, sure. Yup. Totally fine.”

You sighed deeply, trying to convince yourself of your own words. The suite was spacious and nicely furnished, with plenty of room to keep your distance—but that didn’t stop your overactive imagination from running wild. Every interaction felt loaded with the possibility of embarrassing yourself, but you swore you’d keep it together.

To say people around the production crew had heard about your new roomie was an understatement.

The day before shooting began, you attended a pre-production meeting that covered everything: call sheet details, blocking and camera movement, technical requirements, and a bunch of safety protocols. It was standard procedure but felt ten times more overwhelming knowing your friends would tease you mercilessly.

You sat with your friends from the art department, trying to focus, but they weren’t making it easy. Archie, one of the lead set designers, leaned over with a smirk. “So, how’s life as Pedro Pascal’s roomie?”

You felt your face heat up instantly. “I—it’s not… it’s just temporary,” you stammered, fiddling with the edge of your notebook.

Stephanie, a costume designer with an endless supply of sass, raised an eyebrow. “Temporary or not, it’s the stuff of rom-coms, babe. Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined a meet-cute scenario in that suite.”

“I have not!” you protested, though your flaming cheeks betrayed you. 

Will, an art director with a love for stirring the pot, chuckled. “Come on, you’ve gotta admit it’s a little… serendipitous? You, a huge fan, sharing a suite with the guy? Sounds like fate to me.”

“It’s not fate,” you insisted, trying to deflect. “It’s a logistical mistake, that’s all.”

Max, the trainee set dresser, chimed in with a grin. “Yeah, but a logistical mistake that’s got everyone talking. Even Steve heard about it, and he’s usually the last to know anything.”

Steve, the lighting technician, shrugged. “What can I say? Word travels fast. I’m just here to see how long it takes for Pedro to find out about your… fandom.”

“Oh my god, can we not?” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “He’s going to think I’m a weirdo.”

Rebecca, a fellow production assistant and one of your closest friends, patted your shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, he seems like the kind of guy who’d find it endearing. Besides, you’ve been professional so far, right?”

You nodded hesitantly. “I think so. I mean, I haven’t said anything stupid yet.”

“Yet being the keyword,” Sophie teased, earning a laugh from the group.

Patricia, always the voice of reason, smiled warmly. “Just be yourself. You’re great at your job, and Pedro’s just another actor. A very charming actor, sure, but still just a person.”

“Thanks, Patricia,” you said, feeling slightly more grounded. But the anxiety still lingered, especially with everyone’s teasing reminders of your not-so-secret crush.

As the meeting wrapped up and you headed back to your tasks, you couldn’t shake the nervous excitement bubbling inside you. Sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal might’ve been a logistical mistake, but it was quickly turning into one of the most unreal experiences of your life.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL, LONDON — NIGHT

Dinner with the cast and crew had been lively, filled with laughter, and far too many knowing glances sent your way by your friends. The teasing hadn’t stopped, even over plates of pasta and glasses of wine.

Archie had leaned over at one point, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when Pedro walks out of the bathroom shirtless? Swoon or faint?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Archie!”

“I’m just saying,” he said with a laugh. “It’s a valid question.”

Stephanie smirked. “She’s probably rehearsing her ‘I’m totally cool and unaffected’ face right now.”

You groaned. “I hate all of you.”

Rebecca grinned. “No, you don’t. But seriously, just enjoy the moment. How many people can say they’ve shared a hotel room with Pedro Pascal?”

By the time the group had wandered back to the shuttle, your cheeks were sore from laughing, and your nerves were only slightly calmed. But as the cold London air nipped at your skin, you found yourself longing for the warmth of the hotel.

Your teeth chattered as you stepped off the shuttle, clutching your coat tighter around you. You didn’t like the cold very much, and London was very, very cold.

The moment you entered the hotel lobby, the warmth began to seep into your body, and you let out a sigh of relief. The elevator ride to your floor was quiet, your mind finally shutting down after a long evening of socializing. By the time you reached your room, you were operating on autopilot.

Tapping your keycard to the door, you quietly pushed it open, careful not to disturb Pedro if he was already asleep. It was just past 9:30 p.m., and you knew the early call time tomorrow would have him resting early.

You shut the door softly behind you, locking the deadbolt before shuffling into the room. You removed your coat, scarf, and shoes, swapping them for the fuzzy slippers you’d packed. The room was dimly lit, and you moved quietly, hoping not to make too much noise.

“Oh, you’re back.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, clutching your chest as your heart tried to escape it. Whipping around, you found Pedro lounging on the sofa, a book in his hands and a soft, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was wearing a plain white tee and gray sweatpants, his square-framed glasses perched on his nose, and he looked entirely too comfortable—like he belonged there. Like this was normal.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you were still awake,” you said, voice breathless as you tried to recover from the scare.

He chuckled, his laugh low and warm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. You were so quiet coming in, I thought maybe you were sneaking around.”

You set your things on the small table by the door, giving him an exasperated look. “I wasn’t sneaking around. I was trying not to wake you.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” He tilted his head, watching you with that relaxed air that somehow made you feel completely exposed. “How was dinner?”

“It was good,” you said, shrugging as you moved toward the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water. “Everyone was in high spirits, and the food was great. We took a little walk around the city before heading back.”

Pedro closed his book, setting it on the coffee table. “Sounds nice. London at night can be magical.”

“Yeah, it was.” You paused, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Though, I think I underestimated just how cold it gets here. My teeth were chattering the whole way back.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile softening. “Didn’t bring a warm enough coat?”

“I thought I did, but apparently not. I’m not built for this kind of weather,” you admitted with a laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to stave off the lingering chill.

Pedro stood, crossing the room with an easy grace that made your breath hitch. “Well, we can’t have you freezing, can we?” He grabbed the throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa and held it out to you. “Here.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the simple gesture. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I just get cold really easily. Besides, I’ll warm up eventually.”

“Take it,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s not a big deal.”

Reluctantly, you took the blanket, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. It sent a jolt of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the fabric now wrapped around your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmured, pulling it tighter around you.

“Better?” he asked, stepping back to give you space but still watching you with that disarmingly kind expression.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “Much. Thanks, Pedro.”

He smiled again, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged, like something unspoken was hanging there. But then he broke the silence, his voice light. “So, did they give you a hard time at dinner?”

Your face heated instantly. “What do you mean?”

He smirked, leaning casually against the back of the sofa. “I heard some of the cast talking earlier. Apparently, your friends in the art department have been… teasing you about the room situation.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh no. What exactly did you hear?”

“Nothing incriminating,” he said with a laugh. “Just that they’re convinced this is some kind of meet-cute scenario straight out of a rom-com.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, mortified. “I’m so sorry. They’re ridiculous.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, his tone easy, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

Your hands dropped to your sides, your eyes wide. “Flattering?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s nice to know someone thinks sharing a room with me is worth all that excitement.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to process the fact that Pedro Pascal—Pedro Pascal—was standing in front of you, teasing you in the most charming way possible.

“Well, I’ll let you get some rest,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Big day.”

He gave you one last smile before retreating to his side of the suite, leaving you standing there with a racing heart and a head full of thoughts you were too scared to unpack.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY  

You woke to the soft chime of your alarm, the faint glow of early morning light creeping through the curtains. Shuffling into the bathroom with a yawn, you turned on the shower, letting the warm water coax you into wakefulness. You placed your phone on the counter, tapping on a playlist to fill the small space with soft, melodic tunes—comforting background noise that kept your mind from spiraling too early in the day.  

After your shower, you toweled off and began your morning routine. Skincare applied with practiced ease, makeup brushed on with care, you avoided the mirror for too long, focusing instead on the growing anticipation of the day ahead. Pinning your ID to your lanyard, you glanced at your phone again.  

The group chat with your team was buzzing:  

Archie: "We’re fifteen minutes out. Don’t keep us waiting, queen 👑."  

Rebecca: "Text when you’re coming down!"  

Max: "Coffee run? Pls? 🙏"  

A small smile tugged at your lips as you tapped out a quick reply, your fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before you switched apps.  

Your heart did a little stutter as you opened your browser—a Joel Miller fanfic you’d been obsessing over still lingering on your screen. You skimmed the most recent chapter, your thumb pausing to scroll as you half-laughed at the absurdity of sneaking in a few paragraphs before a full day on set. You switched to the chat thread with your online friends, who were deep in a heated discussion about whether Joel would be the type to cook breakfast for his partner. You couldn’t help but chuckle, throwing in a quick, “He’d definitely make pancakes and act like it’s no big deal,” before locking your phone and setting it on the counter.  

Moving on autopilot, you padded into the small kitchenette, barefoot and still humming softly to the tune stuck in your head. You set the coffee machine to brew, pulling out a couple of mugs, a jar of Nutella, and some bread. Your hands moved with muscle memory, spreading the hazelnut spread on toast and slicing up a handful of fruit without a second thought. It wasn’t until the scent of coffee filled the air that you realized you’d made two plates of toast—one for you and one for Pedro.  

The realization struck at the same moment you heard the faint shuffle of footsteps behind you.  

“Morning.”  

His voice was low and warm, still carrying the huskiness of sleep. You froze, phone in one hand, butter knife in the other, as you turned to see Pedro leaning against the doorframe. His hair was adorably tousled, and he was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants that somehow made him look effortlessly put together. His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you, and you nearly dropped your phone in a panic.  

“Good morning,” you managed, your voice a little too high-pitched as you fumbled to lock your screen. The thought of him catching even a glimpse of what you’d been reading was enough to make your cheeks burn.  

Pedro glanced at the counter, taking in the toast, coffee, and neatly sliced fruit. “You made breakfast?”  

“Oh, uh—yeah.” You set your phone down and gestured awkwardly toward the spread. “I made you some coffee and toast with Nutella. I wasn’t sure if you’d want that, and there’s fruit, too. I was just about to cut some more, but obviously, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, and—”  

“Hey.” Pedro’s soft chuckle cut through your rambling, and when you met his gaze, he was looking at you with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”  

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the sincerity in his voice. “Oh. Yeah. No problem. It’s nothing, really.”  

He moved past you to grab a mug of coffee, the proximity sending your pulse into overdrive. As he poured himself a cup, you noticed his shoulders relaxed and his movements unhurried. He took a sip and let out a small, contented sigh.  

“Perfect,” he said, glancing over at you with a grin. “You’re spoiling me, you know that?”  

Your laugh came out nervous and breathy. “I’m pretty sure this doesn’t count as spoiling. It’s just toast.”  

“Yeah, but it’s good toast,” he teased, holding up a slice as if to emphasize his point.  

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension in your chest easing slightly. The moment felt impossibly domestic—like a scene out of one of those fanfics you’d been reading. Only this time, it wasn’t Joel Miller standing in the kitchen with you. It was Pedro.  

And that was somehow even more surreal.  

Pedro leaned against the counter, his mug cradled in both hands. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. “So,” he started, his voice warm and casual, “what were you so engrossed in on your phone earlier? You looked ready to throw it out the window when I walked in.”  

Your stomach flipped, and you tried to play it cool, even though you were fairly certain your face was now several shades of red. “Oh, nothing,” you lied, brushing a crumb off the counter. “Just the group chat. You know how chaotic they are.”  

Pedro tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mm-hmm. Sure it wasn’t something more... intriguing?”  

You swallowed hard, gripping your coffee cup a little tighter. “Intriguing?”  

He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes twinkling with mischief over the rim of his mug. “You tell me.”  

“It’s nothing!” you blurted out, a little too defensively. “Just—just boring stuff. Work stuff.”  

“Work stuff,” he repeated slowly, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Because people laugh at boring work stuff while making toast.”  

You groaned, setting your mug down as you ran a hand over your face. “Can we not? Please? I’m already mortified enough.”  

Pedro chuckled, the sound low and teasing but not unkind. “Alright, alright. I’ll let it go... for now.” He set his mug on the counter and raised his hands in mock surrender. “But you owe me a story later. Deal?”  

You hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Depends on how much coffee you’ve had by then. I might need you slightly less smug for that conversation.”  

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, just enough to make your heart stutter. “Smug? I prefer charming. But I’ll take it under advisement.”  

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. The playful banter made the room feel lighter, warmer.  

By the time you both finished your coffee, the atmosphere had shifted into something comfortable and easy. You quickly rinsed the dishes, your hands moving on autopilot as Pedro lingered nearby, chatting about everything and nothing.  

As you dried your hands, your phone buzzed on the counter, and you glanced at the screen.  

Rebecca: “Bus is almost there. Better get your cute butt down here!”  

You shot back a quick reply: “On my way.” Turning to Pedro, you grabbed your bag and gestured toward the door. “I’ve got to head down. My shuttle’s waiting.”  

Pedro grabbed his own bag and trailed after you. “I’ll walk down with you. I’ve got my own ride coming, but they’re always late.”  

The two of you stepped into the elevator, the hum of its descent filling the silence. The confined space suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken tension.  

Pedro stood close—too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you pressed the strap of your bag tighter against your shoulder, hoping it would anchor you somehow.  

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost intimate in the stillness of the elevator. “What’s the plan for today?”  

You glanced at him, his brown eyes watching you closely, the curve of his smile softer now. “Same as usual, I guess,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Make sure everything runs smoothly while you and everyone else look good on camera.”  

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You make it sound so simple, but I know you’re the one holding it all together.”  

His words caught you off guard, and you looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I just do my job.”  

“And you do it damn well,” he said, his tone sincere now, no teasing edge in sight.  

The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby, breaking the moment. Pedro gestured for you to step out first, and you did, your pulse still racing.  

“Thanks,” you murmured, not entirely sure if you were thanking him for his compliment or just for letting you escape the charged space of the elevator.  

As you spotted your shuttle waiting outside, you turned to him, suddenly aware of how reluctant you were to leave. “I’ll see you on set?”  

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat longer than necessary. “Yeah. See you soon.”  

You stepped outside, the crisp morning air hitting your face as you walked toward the shuttle. But even as you climbed aboard and found a seat, your mind was still back in that elevator, replaying every glance, every word, every spark.

End Notes:

Oh hi! I missed doing these silly bits; I thought to bring ‘em back. But, don’t worry, I’ll try to yap less haha

Yes, it’s super cliche, cheesy, unrealistic, and practically a hallmark movie in the making. But that’s the fun part in fanfiction and writing, it’s all made up and no one here is allowed to “yuck” each other’s “yum” if you know what I mean. ;)

Also, I have no idea how production for film works so I’m researching stuff and making stuff up along the way pls no one come after me T^T

Weirdly enough, I saw a reddit post from someone who works at the front of the hotel desk and they say the one-bed trope/one-room trope; it actually happens pretty frequently lol so who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca

[blazinghotfoggynights]

Can Team Tuck and Team Buddie please agree that both can exist and serve as positive spaces for queer male representation?

I've been thinking. Let me run something by you.

Oliver says he has always felt Buck was a bi-coded character? Right?

Does that mean when TK thought Buck was hitting on him, he was?

If Buck was always bi, but just didn't know it, are we supposed to believe he never flirted with Eddie just because his first kiss was with Tommy?

Was Tommy his bi awakening or was Tommy the embodiment of the attractive traits he has seen in a man he's been falling for over five seasons?

You can like or even love multiple people. Even at the same time! 😮

Believing that Buddie is or should be the endgame does not negate or disrespect Buck's arc with Tommy in any way. I question if Tommy was just a convenient character. He's a safe guy to explore Buck's evolution with. He has a history with members of the 118, but he is not integral to the cast. If it doesn't work out, he is easily explained away. Remember Natalia?

I think it is possible to have a Buck and Tommy centered arc, focused on Buck becoming comfortable with his sexuality and exploring it in a healthy, positive way and still have Buck and Eddie eventually realize they have been each other's person for years. Having both doesn't make the other any less important. How many people have dated others when their eventual life partner was right there? They had no idea they saw that person in that way.

Now that we know Buck is bi, it could lead to different interpretations of scenes:

Buck is looking at Eddie. Tommy is not there and we don't know for sure who Eddie was speaking to.

2. Look at that smile and his eyes at the end. Buck positively beams and bats his eyes when he realizes Eddie is going to look at him. That's how platonic friends look at each other?

3. But we can take it all the way back if we have to. Look at Buck when Eddie compliments him.

3b. Do you know what that reminds me of?

4. If Buck has subconciously been into guys for a long time, then this scene takes on a whole new context.

Moving closer to the other man? Check.

Eye contact? Check?

Smile and shy head duck? Check.

*I'd like to state that I have no doubt Edmundo Diaz knew Buck was into him. Look at the reaction.

5. When I'm into someone, you know what I don't talk about? Someone else.

6. Wow. Look at how Buck looks at Tommy.

6b. We have never seen that before have we?

Buck x Tommy and Buck x Eddie can coexist in harmony. Life stories are long and have jumpscares, plot twists, plot holes, etc.

Buck being genuinely attracted to Tommy doesn't mean that all the scenes from the past five seasons that made us all side-eye Evan Buckley didn't happen.

If we never get Buddie, let's just take the win. ABC said, "There are queer men in the world who are masculine, hot, and relatively stable. Let's show that."

Do we really need to talk about how the LGBTQ community was represented on their former network? I could stand on that soapbox and go off for days. Let's just say I know others who also felt some way about it, whether they were straight, queer, or allies.

I am just going to enjoy what is shaping up to be an amazing season. Moving to ABC breathed new life into 911 and I am excited. (Season six? Can we just not talk about it?)

[whalesforhands]

what’s yours is mine (7/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

“You’re not going to get any better if you don’t lie down.”

Yet you don’t listen, only clinging harder onto your Mama and pressing your face into her thigh from behind, helplessly balling her clothes into your fists as she watches the stove that had yet to be turned on.

Where a pot of uncooked rice porridge still sat atop, cold and unappetizing; totally unfit for a sick child such as you.

It was a curse that you swore had beset you on this unlucky day as you woke up groggy and sapped of your energy, stumbling over your blanket with shortened breaths as you tried to get to the bathroom.

You’re sure of it. An evil villain had blackened your soul, diminished your health and withered your spirit— All because you were a hero. That’s why Mama came upstairs only to find your half-dressed self face-planted onto the futon, your body trembling and clearly struggling to dress yourself without her as your eyes went teary from stress and the resentment of your weakened limbs.

“M-Mama…” Your voice is weak, strained and clearly upset as it tips over into a sob as you’re scooped up into her arms, her forehead pressed against yours in hurried moves as her much cooler hands hold your limp body.

You’re burning up.

“Honey, I think you’re sick.” It’s in a quiet coo, a soft trill to her tone in attempts to hush the beginnings of you throwing a fit.

“I-I’m n-not sick…!” You denied, hands curled into weak fists to throw a miniature, and very fatigue-ridden tantrum as your eyes tear up, bottom lip trembling as you try your best not to cry.

And Mama knows that you’re not the type to deny yourself from such things. Not the type of good child that would decline being babied and fawned over by her within any given circumstance. But she gets it, gets you.

It’s the day of the sports festival after all.

At the ripe young age of 8, sports has always been a defining point in popularity and the general likability of an individual in their class. A time for kids such as yourself to build repertoire, to build a reputation for themselves. A way to be labelled as ‘someone’.

Simply put, it was your opportunity to make friends without actually ‘making friends’. A, in your opinion, relatively smart way of flouting Satoru’s promise and Suguru’s disapproving gaze.

(Even if it made you sad to make them sad…)

So you chose to take part in the relay race, the one team based event that you think you could not possibly be bad at, your hand raised high into the air and eyes sparkling with a determination that made you believe that there was definitely a victory in sight when your teacher called for volunteers.

It went against your yearly choice of being on the cheer team, but you think change can be a good thing.

(Heroes always talk about it in anime.)

That’s why. That’s why your face was burning hot with the passion that was meant to be exerted upon the relay race, the tears leaking out of your eyes and soaking into your Mama’s skirt meant to be ones that would taste like victory when you brought great honour and glory to Class 3B.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

This is definitely the world’s revenge for making your friends upset. Heroes definitely do not have it easy, even if you did single-handedly save Satoru’s playground.

You can’t even eat the super delicious character bento that your Mama had stayed up late last night to make you as your bottom lip wobbles, frustration running high and your hands balling up the fabric of her skirt as you try your absolute hardest to make the swell in your throat go down.

You don’t want to cry. You’re strong. You’re capable. That’s why you’re a hero. That’s why you can’t let the villain who cursed you win.

And when a hand is gently rubbing your head from above alongside the sound of a pot clattering closed; it was enough to make the dam that you had so desperately tried to keep closed burst open.

“It’s okay to be sad.”

She knows how much you trained for this day. How much you let her smear sunscreen all over your face, whining and letting her pat your cheeks as you slip your feet into velcro sneakers, waving her goodbye with your waterbottle tucked underneath your armpit and a hanky in your pocket.

“Satoru said he’ll help me train.” Your look of determination barely falters as you smile up at her. “So I’m gonna work really, really hard.”

Gojo Satoru. The anchor of your class, the star boy who effortlessly gets the best grades despite sleeping through most of the lessons, and the one unanimously decided by the majority that he is the running last because that was just how fast he was. Don’t get yourself wrong, Suguru was fast. And really smart too.

But Gojo Satoru was just too exceptional even for the above average.

So that’s why you’re out here, an empty plastic cup in your hands acting as the ‘baton’ and Suguru waving a palm in front of your face to break you out of your daydreaming trance.

“You sure you wanna train when it’s so hot out?” His brows are furrowed and his lips are downturned into a frown. “Satoru and I don’t mind, but you don’t really like playing outside.”

Other than the playground anyway.

“Mmhm.” A nod of your head and the clenching of your fingers around the replacement baton as your own eyes hued with a fiery resolve met his worried purple. “I gotta do it.”

You’ll do it for glory. For the future where you’ll be as highly revered as your friends, for the classmates to even possibly think that you were the slightest bit cool.

“You’ll help, right?” Your smile is innocent and far too happy, the giddiness on the cheeks that were too cute for him to say anything else.

“…okay.” Anything for you.

This was your hero training arc.

“And Suguru’s gonna be passing to you from that tree, and you’ll pass to me! So we’re gonna practice that by running up and down this path I made Kimi-chan mark out!”

“Seriously? Where’d ya even get them?”

“I made Kimi-chan buy them, duh.”

That sounds easy enough, right? The cones that had been laid out practically beckon you as your ears no longer pick up on the chatter between your 2 friends, a giddy excitement in your stomach as you clench your fists with blazing resolve.

Well, some things are easier said than done.

A fall.

“(name)-sama, are you okay?!” Hands hurriedly pulling you back up to your feet as fingers fumble over your knees. “That was quite a bad fall…!”

Another stumble.

“I’ll run faster so that you have more time to pass to Satoru, okay?” His words are only slightly chopped, slightly winded from the multiple laps that he had gone as his hanky presses against your scratched knee.

An unprecedented tripping over your own feet. Or was it the air…?

“W-What? Ya were so close that time! How’d ya even fall?!” Gojo Satoru is the one who catches you this time, having hurriedly trying to break your fall having noticed the slightest odd bend in your ankles.

“Kimi-chan! How long did that take?!” He pants, wiping the sweat off his brow as the baton sticks to his slick hand, snowy hair sticking to his forehead as Suguru fans himself under the shade of the tree you were all taking refuge under, letting you catch your breath by leaning against him.

Said caretaker looks up from where she was icing your bruises, hands moving swiftly to take another look at the timer. “Exactly 2 minutes and 38 seconds, Young Master.”

“Ehhh? That’s so slow!”

And while you don’t cry a lot, but it doesn’t mean that you never will. It doesn’t mean that you don’t feel frustrated at the fact that you ran so much every single day after school, panting and feeling the heat of the sun on your hands, the sticky feeling of your clothes on your skin as you try not to feel faint. Try to get your bearings back every single time the boys practically ran laps around you.

Training is difficult. And it’s even more difficult to have to come to terms with what was now out of your reach.

“There’s always next year,” Her hand pats your back as her voice is barely above a whisper, gently wiping your tears as you feel her hand upon your chin, gingerly making you release your jaw so that you won’t bite down on your lips.

“What you worked hard for won’t disappear just like that.”

So that you won’t be so hard on yourself either.

“B-but I can’t—“ Can’t do anything even if you worked so hard for it. It’s become useless all on its own, even when you had so clearly forced down more vegetables these days in preparation, gulping down lots and lots of water to aid in the healthiness power up.

“What you can do now is do your best to cheer for your friends, okay? Then your effort won’t go to waste if you cheer really, really hard for them.” Your sight is blurry as you blink through your tears, staring up at the soft expression of your Mama’s face, the fever patch on your head making you start to feel faint.

“You’re really good at cheering too.” Not to brag or anything, but your Mama is definitely right. But you think your running is definitely and hopefully much better.

But that’s the only thing you can do for them now. A second chance, a gleaming, glowing chance that paves way to make up for the fact that you couldn’t win together with them.

So you accept it.

“Okay…” Even if you can’t see them, even if you can’t even cheer for them physically like you did in the previous years. But you’ll pray, pray really really hard in your head that they will win, that they would be the ones to bring the glory that you couldn’t.

You really hope it goes well. You really, really, really hope so as your chin rests on your Mama’s shoulder, your legs wrapped around her waist and her hand patting your back as she carries you up the stairs.

You do wonder how they’re doing up to now, though. Hopefully… Winning?

“No!” A cross of his arms and a huff of annoyance. “No way am I gonna receive from some nobody!” A decisive stamp of his foot into the dirt below, his back turned onto the only other person here that would even dare to go this close to him, especially when he’s kicking up a dust cloud alongside throwing yet another tantrum.

“You’re being too much, Satoru.” He sighs with a palm pressed to his forehead, his hair now shorter than ever so as to comply with school regulations as he watches his stubborn friend.

At least it won’t get in his face when he’s doing sports. Much unlike the fuming Gojo Satoru in front of him.

“Oi Suguru! How could ya let that hag tell us what to do?!”

And Geto Suguru feels like his head was going to split open. “Our homeroom teacher only suggested that we get a replacement because we’re short of one.”

At least, that’s what he’s been trying to get across for the past 10 minutes.

“We don’t need anybody replacin’ her!” Another stomp onto the ground as the blue-eyed boy pouts even harder, making a pebble launch off the ground and rocket towards the concrete wall to ricochet with a force full of repulsed impatience. “They’re gonna be stupider than her for getting sick t’day!”

“Then our class would be a person short, Satoru. And don’t call people stupid.” Because you’d probably be the one to make that comment right about now. Not that it matters, even if it came from the noiret who even tried to dissuade him with words that you’d probably say—

All for naught. Even if they mimicked the way you spoke, it just doesn’t have the same effect. So Geto Suguru had decided to just give up entirely to be the crass, straight to the point self that scratched at the nerves of the neighbourhood Gojo.

(And it looked like Satoru liked this version of him better, anyway.)

It doesn’t make logical sense to skip out on manpower. Not at all, especially when they’re in this specific category looking for a win. Yet, Suguru gets it as his nose scrunches and his brows furrow. He gets why the boy is so adamant on your position not getting swiped from underneath their noses.

(He won’t admit it though. If he does it first, it means Satoru wins.)

“It’s not like you can stop being sick all of a sudden.”

You worked so hard, after all. You would never be the type to lie to skip out on this. You’re just… Unlucky. Or was it their fault for making you play in those rain puddles…?

(“It’s not fair! I even made my maids pack extra special Digimon bentos to eat t’day!”

“Eat them yourself then—“

“No!”)

Alas, he still has to deal with the spoiled prince whom even the teachers seem too scared to make him upset. Seriously, what is up with everyone and the Gojo family?

“Then you just gotta run faster!” A poke of a proud finger into the young boy’s chest, a purposeful prod that was barely teetering on a threat as those shiny blue hues were ignited by a flare of indignation.

A glare that commanded Suguru’s obedience and compliance as those angry cheeks puff up even more.

Suguru would like to deny it, but you’re right when you say that this spoiled, stubborn, annoying boy was c—

“I don’t wanna receive from anybody else!” A click of his tongue as his shoe kicks at the dirt below him, and a smack against the black-haired boy’s shoulder as flabbergasted amethyst clashes against unrelenting sapphire.

“And we’re gonna win, no matter what. So don’t drag us down or I won’t forgive you!”

Good god, he was so difficult to deal with. Not that this was anything out of the ordinary for Geto Suguru, though.

A sigh, and childlike hands that clasped their together into a determined handshake, fingers squeezing into a promise just as the blare of the loudspeaker comes on to announce the start of their event.

“Say that to yourself first, Satoru.” A tightening of their hands as the ‘handshake’ gets ever tighter with their growing adrenaline. “I won’t forgive you either if you lose to the rest of them.”

(“Also, can’t ya eat your bentos yourself? My mama packed me one too with cold soba—“ He immediately shuts up when he spots the angry pout on his friend’s face, red cheeks and fuming anger that threatened to have steam blow out his ears.

And the— Sight of eyes that looked like they were gonna… Cry?

Oh.

“…let’s save some for (name) when we eat them later.”)

——

“Dear,” A cool hand pushes your hair back as you groggily blink awake, tummy still warm from porridge and forehead feeling slightly damp from the soft, moist cloth against your heated skin. “Are you feeling better?”

“Mn…” You think your body is starting to feel less heavy, less burdensome on your bones as you let out a groan, small hand reaching out for the glass of water that looked like it was floating in front of you.

Magic glasses of water taste the best. You would know since you had a couple today. At least… You think it’s magic. It is, right? That’s why they always fly around and looked like there was always more than one surrounding you.

“Geto-san came over with some soup when she heard you were sick.” She’s gently smoothing down your hair as you start to perk up, shifting slightly so as to be able to sit up properly against your Mama’s arm supporting you against your back.

“You can eat it later, okay?”

You hope you have strength to go over and thank her later, though… Do you have to give her something as thanks too? It must be hard, having to make a soup that would help cure the curse upon your body…

Mama stops momentarily as she watches you from above, humming slightly when you finally down the rest of your glass and let out a little sigh, fully going lax against your Mama’s cooler to the touch body as you cuddle up against her.

She should take more off days to stay together with you more—

“Oh, and your friends. They came over to visit as well.”

And that has you whipping around to face your Mama, the sudden movement making your stiff neck cramp slightly from how long you laid down.

But it doesn’t matter. The pain won’t stop you. Won’t stop the racing thoughts you had through your head that mostly overpowered the soreness of your neck.

Was the sports event already over? Did they win? Did they lose— No. Wait. That’s impossible. Your friends could never, would never lose. Oh, but what if there was a possible chance there was? Even if heroes suffered a little bit sometimes the villain could still win—

“But I couldn’t let them in.”

“(name)’s mama! Is she awake yet?” This was probably the third time they had knocked against the front door, hands on his hips and blue eyes staring up at the all too patient woman.

“Satoru— My mama said we have to wait.” Purple eyes blink up at her apologetically. “Sorry, (name)‘s mama, we can wait a while longer—“

“But it’s been like— Too long, Suguru! How much longer until she wakes up???”

Oh. That sucks. You visibly deflate, a whimper escaping you as your shoulders slump into defeat. You can’t even talk to them or else you’ll pass your dirty, cursed germs to them…

“Nothing a call can’t fix,” She uses a soft handkerchief to wipe any remnant moisture, petting your head as her eyes briefly meet the drawn curtains of your shared bedroom.

“And I might… Have a better idea.”

Excited waves from the window, shimmers of gold against reflective glass and your widening eyes as the summer breeze flutters the curtains and ruffles through your hair.

It’s windier than you thought, with the sun in your eyes and the cicadas singing in this heat.

(Or was it because you just spent most of the day sleeping?)

“Look! I won the medals for us!” Half his body was practically hanging off of the window ledge, hands holding all 3 shiny medals as his lower half was held back only by the more responsible friend clinging onto Satoru’s waist and pulling with all the might an 8 year old might have.

“Satoru! Don’t lean over the window— And we won those together!”

A haughty huff.

“Ya, but you didn’t cross the finish line, did ya? I did! But look, look! We got your medal too!”

(“You’re so annoying!”

“Blehhhh!” A stick out of his tongue as excited blue kept jumping in place despite the dangerous position he put himself in. “Kimi-chan’s already down there to catch me just in case, anyway!”)

Golden and shiny and everything that encompassed a winner. It shone so brightly even when competing against the late afternoon sunshine, stood out even when held

Winners. They’re winners.

But if you think about it all on your lonesome, looking upon those shiny medals and standing by your window with your futon wrapped around your form…

There’s something odd about this empty feeling inside of you. Something that lingers in the same sense disappointment would, swirling around you and making you feel… Bad.

Why? You’re happy that your class won, happy that they managed to win the glory you’ve been going on and on about in your head. They’re winners, beat out all the other people who trained hard for this event as well. What is this disgusting feeling of secretly hoping that they lost?

So why? Why is it that you feel this way even as they smile so proudly at you, proclaiming that they’ll personally hang the medal around your neck when you get better so that they can dub you a winner too—

“See? Ya didn’t have to worry about us at all, (name)!” His sparkling blue eyes close to form a matching grin with Suguru who was too busy smiling at you despite your sick state, eyes too busy to notice Gojo Satoru smacking his shoulder when they’re stuck staring at you.

“You’re getting better, right? Your Mama said that you slept a lot. We can talk more with our telephone when Satoru’s gone cause he’s annoying.”

“Hey! I want a string telephone connecting to all your houses too!”

“You live too far. So it’s only mine and (name)’s.”

Ah. You think you get it now. Understand why you feel this way as your hand gingerly presses against your hot cheek and sliding up to your eyes to feel the wetness that was starting to form.

When did you—?

It has your friends doing a double take.

“(name)… Are you crying?” Please don’t cry.

“I-I think she’s just happy that we won! Right, (name)?” Please don’t cry. Not right now.

Because you realize these weren’t tears of happiness, after all. It was the realization that— Despite all your training, despite all the effort you put in to help them, help this class…

They didn’t need you to win after all.

“…yea! Good job!” Your smile feels too unlike any that you’ve ever given, all stretched awkwardly and like it didn’t belong.

This wasn’t you. You know it so, since this is your own self you’re talking about.

You’ve definitely been cursed.

——

And so, it wasn’t long after that you finally recovered, finally able to properly get onto your feet. Finally able to get dressed without your Mama's help, finally able to pick up your backpack without faceplanting onto the ground... All that healing food did wonders.

("You're so happy today, Satoru." You can't help but smile at the boy holding hands with both yourself and your black-haired friend as all 3 of you sat in his car, listlessly listening to the radio together as he sat directly in between the both of you, tips of his ears red as he tries to act... Cool.

"Oh? Satoru, what's with that face?" A smug smile and upturned purple eyes. "Don't tell me it's because you missed-"

"Shut up, Weird Bangs!")

So imagine your surprise when your teacher beckons someone in from outside your classroom door, the entrance sliding open and the taps of an unfamiliar pair of shiny, brand new indoor shoes against the floors of this familiar classroom.

A new kid. One that had a pretty mole by her eye and her prettier name written so neatly upon the blackboard in such neat chalk lines that you just can’t help but feel envious.

“Ieiri Shoko. Please take care of me.” With only the slightest bow as she stares ahead blankly, eyes avoiding the whispers of your already chattering class.

It must be scary, right? To have to stand there and do that… You don’t think you want to be in her position right now.

“Do you think she’s scared?” It’s a thoughtless whisper to the only other person who could possibly hear right now, your own gaze meeting familiar purple.

“Maybe.” He’s dismissive, as if he didn’t care too much as he takes out his pencil case. “I brought the colour pencils you wanted to see, by the way.”

Ohh—! You’ve been wanting to—

“She looks boring.” His crass huff from your other occupied side makes you think he already doesn’t like her. “Don’t talk to her, (name).”

Shimmering comets for eyes turn to meet yours, glowing with a certain spark that had hidden thoughts.

“You’ll get into trouble.”

“Thank you, Ieiri-chan. Please sit at the empty desk near the back by Minato-chan.” A shuffle of papers as your homeroom teacher neatens the stack. “I want you all to be nice to our new friend, okay?”

“Okay, sensei!”

“Good! Now let’s begin class.”

Lunch rolls by far too quickly today. You swear the clock is definitely moving faster than usual.

“Heyyyyy. Stop studying and let’s go playyyyy!” A poke of your cheek as you stare at Suguru’s workings, eyes narrowing as you try to make sense of these complicated numbers.

“Ah, make sure you erase this. You’ll get confused if you don’t.”

“Is this right?” Your paper is pushed towards the more helpful of your friends, anticipating his praise as you wait with bated breath as his purple eyes scan over the worksheet.

You definitely got it this time. Definitely.

“Suguruuuuu! Y’er so slow, I’ll do it!” And that has him snatching up the starting to crumple sheet, blue eyes screening over it with ferocious and frightening accuracy, his cute brows furrowed and his bottom lip jutted out as he lets out a huff.

“This one’s wrong.” A finger taps against your paper, drawing a circle with his fingertip as he yawns. “And this one. This too.”

“The last one was s’pposed to be right but ya forgot to carry the 1 over.” His cheeks puff with dismissiveness when he looks up to only see Suguru comforting you with pats on your shoulder.

Oh.

“W-What? I only checked ‘em over!” He’s not at fault again for something, right? He was sure this was a more straightforward thing of being correct or not, something that shouldn’t be that big of a deal even if it’s because of the way he spoke—

If you hadn’t gotten them all wrong, that is.

“…it’s okay, (name). We can just practice them again.” And you pout, letting Suguru pat your head in consolation as you stare down at the hurriedly marked paper that was handed back to you. “Satoru just doesn’t know how to be nice cause he’s mean.”

“Hey! I can be nice!” Fuming rage and his hands slamming against his desk. “I’ll help ya both study later if (name) gives me a hug and the pudding in your fridge!”

And he’s serious about it. You can tell by his shiny cheeks and those smug half-lidded eyes that he would help— Even if you didn’t give him the pudding. The hug would be mandatory, though.

“What does my pudding even have to do with all this?”

All this whilst that new girl sat alone in the back of the class by herself. She’s not good at making friends, you notice. Quietly keeping to herself as she flips through a book, ignoring the cries of your schoolmates running down the hallway and into the wide, wide yard.

And when hands squeeze your cheeks together, mushing your face into his palms and making you turn away—

“You shouldn’t look at other people when we’re here. Sato—“ He stops himself, eyes moving from the pouting boy and back to your face that was in his hands. “I don’t like it.”

You must’ve been staring for too long.

——

“I don’t wanna go!” He’s clinging to you, backpack hastily thrown onto the ground as Kimiko-san tries her absolute hardest to persuade her young master into the car.

“Please, Satoru-sama. You have martial arts training—“

“Don’t wanna! I wanna stay with (name)!”

So all you can do is stand there and pat his shoulder, his head on your not at all stiff shoulder as you reciprocate his overly attached self, blinking up at a panicking Kimiko-san before down to the head of fluffy white.

“Suguru said he’ll beat you up with judo if you don’t go.”

Because he’s in the club. And he’s really good at it. Better than Satoru, actually.

“That dummy’s not gonna beat me.” It’s off handed and far too self assured as it’s muffled by the strap of your bag.

“You don’t know that.” You really don’t. Suguru’s been going on and on about training a lot, and he let you both see how he could do a flip once. At least— You think it counts as a flip anyway.

And you can hear him mutter unintelligible words, before he pulls away, his hands grabbing onto your shoulders and ferocious, narrowed eyes staring at you head-on with a pout on his lips.

“You better be at home to play with me when we’re back!”

“Okay.” You nod, sticking out your pinky towards him as you smile. “I promise.”

“Hmph!” He takes it, roughly, with a pout that turned into a satisfied smile as he finally— Finally gets in the car.

(“Thank you so much, (name)-sama…”

“It’s okay. I heard Libras were unlucky today cause the stars aren’t aligned for them. You should be cautious about the people around you, lest you run into trouble.”

“T-Thank you, (name)-sama…? Please get home safe. Weather reports say that it will rain soon.”)

And what unexpectedly occurred— Was the fact that the new kid was waiting in the same area as you were, waiting out the rain due to a neglected umbrella that probably sat near her door.

Which was the same case as you were. Except— Despite Kimiko-san’s warning, you ended up wandering around school too long in hopes of getting to watch Suguru train.

“Hi.” You’re trying to make conversation now that it’s just the both of you. Alone. By yourselves. This is a rare chance, honestly. You can count how many times you’ve been left like this by your friends on one hand throughout the years you’ve all been together.

It’s a chance you don’t really want to pass up. Time to put those social skills you’ve gleaned over the years into good use.

(From all those TV shows you’ve watched, of course. Your zodiac sign said that you’ll be lucky if you put yourself out there! And you’re outside right now, so you definitely have been buffed. A special power-up, if you will.)

“…hello.” A response. This is a success. A major success that you got on your own accord.

(Onto the next phase!)

“So didya hear about the… Recent sports festival?” You nod your head. Perfect. Perfect follow-up. “Our school held one a couple days ago.”

“Oh. That.” She doesn’t look up from the book she had been reading all this time. And now that you’re much closer to her than you ever were before—

You realize it’s a manga. Not a book. Technically, she is holding onto a book, but utilizing the hard cover page to cover up the fact that the manga had been sneakily slotted in.

“I was meant to join just a day before, actually. But I made my mama wait a couple days more.”

What.

“You waited until the day after?” Why? Why would she— This new girl do such a thing when it could bring you and your class such great glory?

“But the sports festival is fun…” And a great chance to make a ton of new friends. She’s not under the same promises that you made.

She goes silent, the mole on her cheek rising with her huff as she looks off to the side, out to the open air space that held the path to the school entrance as droplets of water tap against the tips of her shoes.

“Cause it’s bothersome.”

Oh. That’s a new type of answer.

“Do you hate bothersome things?”

And finally— She looks into your eyes, pushing back a stray strand of her long hair and her eyes hued with dews of luster brown that reminded you of the autumn sunset surrounded by orange leaves and sunset rays.

“Yea.”

“Oh.” That’s all you know how to say now, actually. Um… How do you respond to that?

So you go silent. You think she might be annoyed. Hopefully she’s not? You hope she likes you, though. And that you left an okayish impression. Should you tell her she’s pretty? But still, Suguru’s prettier but you can’t tell her that—

“Do you… Usually let them treat you like that?” She sounds… Bored. Maybe taken aback. Or was it simply just curiosity?

Either way, you’ve never really heard anyone ask about that— Other than your Mama, of course. But you tell her everything practically everyday.

“Is there something—“ How should you say it? Is she trying to tell you something? You think it’s fine, even if you don’t know how other people view it. “Bad about the way they treat me?”

You watch as she thinks for a bit, staring off to the side for a bit and up into the dark skies as the rain starts to pour just that little bit harder.

“Not at all.”

——

“Stop looking at me like that, you brat.”

Your eyes were practically boring into him as you watch him rub at a bruise on his cheek, his knuckles stained with dried blood and his green eyes narrowed into a mean glare.

“Did you beat up some—“ You try to think about how he described those people the last time you talked to him— Which was around last week, maybe?

“Butt ugly misters?”

It’s not the exact wording he used, but whatever he says makes you scared to parrot them since you’ve seen one of the old aunties— Sugimoto-san quite literally gasp when she heard him talk once.

“They’re motherfuc— Bad people. Don’t call them misters.”

“You said you didn’t care what I call them though.”

And all you get in response is the click of his tongue. “Whatever, brat.”

Silence. It’s steady and beating and not at all uncomfortable as you watch him pull out another piece of his snack, big teeth chewing with an open mouth and manners flying away. Yet, you still end up asking from your built up curiosity and these mere few minutes just before either of your friends would make it home.

It’s your free time, anyway.

“Mister, am I a bothersome person?” Like those thugs that he gets into scraps with practically every month?

A deep huff as his teeth chew on dried squid, gnawing at the tough exterior as he stares off into the oranges of the sky. “Duh. Who even likes annoying brats like you?”

Even when he says it like that, you can’t help but feel that it’s not true. There’s a reason you hang around him, a reason you still stay despite how mean and nasty this almost adult can be and how often he lies about how he definitely didn’t get into fights.

It’s because he reminds you a little of Satoru.

His words may cut, may be a little overwhelming and cruel. But they ultimately held no weight, nothing particularly soul-crushing or tear weeping.

You might even dare to say that even his insults sound very comforting to you.

That was why you were eating the very crushed biscuits that had been almost mashed into dust right out of the very crinkled plastic packaging that it came out from right now.

(He bought it for you.)

“Nuh uh. Mama says I’m a good kid.”

Maybe it’s the sincerity in your tone, the innocence that can only come from a child that got him thinking.

He doesn’t know how to describe how he’s feeling right now as he stares down at his bruised knuckles, bloody and calloused and hastily bandaged as he grunts.

“Then stop hanging out with me if you think that, kid.”

previous masterlist next

[grantmentis]

U18 Women's World Championship 2025: What To Know

The U18 Women’s World Championship for the top division in women’s hockey starts today! Here is everything you need to know. 

WHO

The tournament is divided into Groups A and B. 

Group A consists of Finland, Japan, USA, and Sweden,

Group B consists of Czechia, Canada, Slovakia, and Switzerland. 

All rosters are here 

WHAT

A round-robin series in each group will rank each teams before all eight go to the quarterfinals in the following format: 1A vs. 4B, 1B vs. 4A, 2A vs. 3B and 2B vs. 3A. The two last placed teams will play a relegation round. Full rules here. 

WHEN

Schedule: January 4th to January 12th

Yes, like this morning. Most of these games will start before noon for you if you are in North America. 

WHERE

The games are in Vantaa, Finland. 

TSN will air all games that have USA and Canada, and NHL Network will air all games that have USA, but only using TSN’s broadcast. Winning gold in the previous year, unfortunately, does not constitute getting your own home broadcast for USA hockey. In Finland, matches will be on TV5 channel and Max streaming service. Unfortunately, I struggled to find broadcast information for the remaining countries. If anyone has more information, please add! 

WHY? 

The U18 Worlds fucking rules. We’ve had two major upsets (Czechia over Canada, Sweden over USA) in the semifinals in the last two years. This is your first chance to lay eyes on some of the future stars of women’s hockey. If you’re older than 18 you get to have a crisis about how old you are. It’s the best. 

I WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THESE TEAMS? 

I did a (very deep) dive into each and every team, complete with expectations for each team, standout player/storylines, and some highlights. If interested, you can read here.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Haim Rivlin, Shomrim

Billions in undisclosed funding

“In a short time, we identified over $3 billion in donations to Yale and other universities that were not properly reported as required by law,” Small said. In 2019, he presented his findings to senior officials in Washington, prompting a federal investigation that exposed extensive undisclosed foreign funding.

Three years ago, Small teamed up with retired Brig. Gen. Sima Vaknin-Gil, Israel’s former chief military censor and director-general of the Strategic Affairs Ministry. Along with a team of 10 researchers and an Israeli forensic accounting firm specializing in global financial investigations, they deepened their inquiry. Their research led to a series of reports detailing the influence of the Muslim Brotherhood and Qatari funding on academic content, the promotion of anti-democratic and anti-Israel agendas, and even antisemitic rhetoric in higher education.

Their latest report, released recently, highlights a previously overlooked dimension: Qatari involvement in U.S. elementary and secondary education (K-12).

Soft power in early education

Small, who now serves as CEO of the New York-based Institute for the Study of Global Antisemitism and Policy (ISGAP), describes Qatar’s strategy as one of “soft power,” using vast financial resources to shape narratives and policies through investments in infrastructure, lobbying firms, academia, research, and media.

“The fact that Qatar—a country with fewer than 350,000 citizens—donates more money to American universities, civil society organizations, and cultural institutions than any other nation in the world is deeply troubling,” he said.

According to ISGAP, Qatari funding has also reached K-12 education in the United States. One key example is a program called Choices, run under the auspices of Brown University, a prestigious Ivy League institution. Choices provides schools with curricula, books, and teacher training on history, international relations, and human rights.

ISGAP’s findings reveal that Choices collaborated with the Qatar Foundation International (QFI), an entity operating under the Qatar Foundation (QF), founded by Sheikha Moza, the mother of Qatari Emir Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani.

Documents uncovered by ISGAP show that QFI sponsored teacher training sessions that included Middle East history courses, covering travel and registration expenses for educators. At another event during the COVID-19 pandemic, QFI funded curriculum development for American middle and high school teachers, offering free Middle East studies lesson plans. Though a link to QFI’s website was initially embedded in Choices’ digital materials, it was later removed. ISGAP retained an archived version of the original reference.

Shaping narratives in schools

Vaknin-Gil, now vice president for strategy at ISGAP, called the findings “astonishing.” She said QFI, registered as a nonprofit in the U.S., ultimately influences lesson plans that reach about 8,000 schools and millions of children.

According to ISGAP’s research, over time, the Choices curriculum shifted from presenting a balanced history of the Middle East to incorporating an overtly anti-Israel narrative, including questioning Israel’s legitimacy. “This ranged from omitting historical details like the Balfour Declaration and the Abraham Accords to distorting Jewish ties to Israel and even erasing Jerusalem as Israel’s capital,” Vaknin-Gil said.

[17dvds]

I really need to talk about the German episode names for OUAT because they go so hard. Even better than the original titles so often. (This is the case with other languages like French, Spanish, etc. I am learning German so I'm only gonna write about German).

The Pilot? English, just "Pilot". In German? The title of the episode when it aired in German was "Das verlorene Happy End“, translates to "The Lost Happy Ending", which is literally the premise of the show in so many ways.

1x04, instead of the original "The Price of Gold", the German literally translates to "A High Price of Gold".

1x05, because the original title of"A Still Small Voice" is an English Idiom, it's now "The Quiet Voice of Conscience"

(cont.)

It's normal till 1x09, the one with Hansel/Gretel. It originally aired with the title "True North", and the German title is "In the Witch's House".

... Ok I could go on cause most of them are different, so I'm just going to pick my favorites now.

1x12 "Skin Deep" is, naturally, "Das Biest und die Schöne", aka "The Beast and the Beauty".

1x15 "Red Handed" they apparently don't have in German, so it's "Wolfs Winter", which sounds cooler honestly.

1x18 "Stable Boy" changes to "Butterfly Effect", which is very accurate how Cora killing Regina's boyfriend started SO MANY THINGS, much of which they hadn't even decided, like Zelena and stuff

1x20 "The Stranger" is instead "Emma's Burden". Idk who did the localization but I would like to marry them because they did NOT like the simple titles and I love it.

2x01 "Broken", when the first curse is broken? Nope, now it's "The New Curse of Freedom" cause they were cooking with the titles at this point.

2x03, originally about "The Lady of the Lake". But German localization team knew who was the real star of the episode, so it was called "A Mother's Feelings".

2x04, titled "The Crocodile". Good enough, right? References Rumple and Hook, connects to Peter Pan movie, etc. Nope! It's gotta be "The Crocodile's Wrath", which is better.

2x12 "In the Name of the Brother" (Frankenstein and his brother). I have to point out for two reasons. First, the German title, "Life, Death and the Alternatives" obviously is a banger. But it is the only language to be any different! Every single other language kept the orginal, so even more points to the German localization team.

2x13 continue's the team's crusade against single word Titles, as "Tiny" becomes "Anton and the Beanstalk".

2x14, too. "Manhattan"? Nope, too boring and simple. Instead, it's "Rumplestiltskin's Games with Destiny" which is amazing.

..... Ok I'm hyperfixating, only a few more, I swear.

3x06 is no longer "Ariel" of course, it's now "Under the Sea", naturally.

3x07 "Dark Hallow" is made even cooler as "Kingdom of Shadows".

3x08 oh my god instead of "Think Lovely Thoughts" it's "The Lie at the End of Eternal Youth" which is like six levels of awesome

3x12 has I think one of the worst English titles, "New York Serenade". Finnish, French, German, and Italian all changed the titles, and natrually I think German is best with "Green is the New Black", though it does spoil the Villian, which isn't reallllly a spoiler if you watched any of the promos for 3B before that episode.

LAST ONE. Going to end on the last OUAT Episode I've seen in my half rewatch, half catch up.

3x14 in English, is "The Tower". Boooring. German fixes it with "Rapunzel's Tower of Fear" which yes please it is.

Ok the end. .................. I may be developing a new Hyperfixation, which I did not expect. Well, maybe I'll actually finish OUAT this time

[fearfulfertility]

INTERNAL AFFAIRS INCIDENT REPORT

DRC Internal Affairs Division

Date: [REDACTED]

Subject: Internal Audit - Quota Breach - Case File [REDACTED]

To: Director [REDACTED]

From: Inspector [REDACTED]

I: Audit Trigger

This audit originated from an anomaly flagged by the Compound Oversight Unit following a routine cross-comparison of mortality curves, biometric telemetry, and average fetal volume expansion across paternity compounds in FEMA Zone 5. Paternity Compound 144, in particular, demonstrated a statistically aberrant rise in surrogate experience [REDACTED] collapse, a condition only observed in gestations over 18 fetuses. While the facility’s internal reports claimed average pregnancies between 8 and 11 embryos per surrogate, biometric logs suggested fetal counts ranging from 18 to 23 embryos per case.

Due to the severity of the physiological strain such numbers would imply—and the lack of official documentation acknowledging it—a Level 2 Integrity Audit was ordered. The Internal Affairs Division performed an unannounced sweep of all surrogate biometric records, insemination logs, and surveillance data from Cycles [REDACTED] to [REDACTED].

What followed revealed not only systemic concealment of lethal overloads but also willful obstruction motivated by personal psychological deviance.

II: Surveillance Analysis

Biometric data recovered from Wards 3B through 7E indicated that surrogates began exhibiting rapid and extreme abdominal distension by Day 11, surpassing known volumetric thresholds typically seen by Day 17. Skin tension diagnostics showed redlining stretch marks and dermal fissures in [REDACTED]% of all recorded subjects. In multiple cases, respiratory compression and full [REDACTED] subluxation—typically observed only after Day 30—were logged as early as Day 19.

“We knew something was off when they were too big to move before the second week. One of them just looked like that blueberry girl from Willy Wonka or some shit. But the logs said 14 embryos, so we assumed it was just edema.” - Employee GS-144-217

Footage recovered showed numerous surrogates experiencing aggressive fetal growth and abdominal distension, with growth rates in Ward 6C indicative of at least 23-25 embryonic masses. Two surrogates suffered multi-organ [REDACTED] before a team from the Compound Oversight Unit could intervene, though all fetuses were successfully delivered via cesarean.

“We knew something when we saw the guys from Ward 2. We were blimps compared to them, and they were twice as far along as us. I mean, I can literally see my belly growing!” Surrogate, later determined to be carrying quattuorvigintuplets (24)

Despite this, the internal logs submitted to the Archive Management Unit recorded all affected surrogates as having a “successful delivery with standard expiration.” The discrepancy was manually edited at terminal station 144-T12-OP47—registered to an Insemination Operations Unit employee named [REDACTED] (Employee ID IO-144-611).

III. Device Failure & Impact

Each MNAIS unit in Ward Blocks 3–7 had suffered [REDACTED] desynchronization following an outdated firmware push. Rather than delivering the standard 8-12-embryo load, units programming applied a multiplier to its quota and began injecting up to 24 fertilized embryos per cycle, with no error code generated.

Employee IO-144-611 discovered this failure within three days but refrained from submitting a maintenance report. He manually edited implantation records to match quota expectations, falsely logging a randomization formula (6–11 embryos per surrogate) across all documentation streams. Employee IO-144-611 then overrode the automatic alert system from the local Postpartum Command, which would ultimately log surrogates giving birth to higher fetal quotas than inseminated with.

His actions delayed DRC response for 41 days, during which:

42 surrogates suffered [REDACTED] rupture before Day 28, [REDACTED] overload, or uterine [REDACTED], necessitating emergency C-sections. No fetal fatalities.

17 surrogates expired mid-labor after undergoing compound [REDACTED] due to displaced [REDACTED], necessitating emergency C-sections. No fetal fatalities.

3 surrogates, against all medical prediction, reached Day 33 and birthed successfully, but ultimately expired post-extraction. No fetal fatalities.

26 surrogates still gestating, average 19 embryos per individual.

IV. Behavioral Profile – Employee IO-144-611

Subject: Employee IO-144-611 Tenure: [REDACTED] Position: Regional Implantation Supervisor Clearance Level: Tier II – Override Authorization Security Clearance: Revoked as of [REDACTED]

Following confrontation and seizure of his local system access logs, Employee IO-144-611 was detained and subjected to a Tier III Psychological Assessment. During this evaluation, the root of the concealment was uncovered.

Psychological Findings:

Employee IO-144-611 exhibited a previously undiagnosed paraphilic fixation classified under Government Code [REDACTED]: Macrophilia, a pathological sexual arousal in response to abnormally large bodies or bodily expansion.

Upon exposure to the visual data of overloaded surrogates—particularly those carrying between 19 and 23 fetuses—Employee IO-144-611 demonstrated elevated oxytocin and dopamine levels, a flushed dermal response, and sustained pupil dilation.

Under questioning, he confessed:

“I couldn’t report it. If I said anything, they’d shut it down, recalibrate the racks, lower the numbers again. You don’t understand. They were… monumental.”

He further admitted to deliberately withholding service requests for malfunctioning implantation equipment, specifically the Multi-Nozzle Accelerated Implantation System (MNAIS) units, which had developed a systemic fault causing them to implant +[REDACTED]% above calibrated embryo counts.

V: Displincary Response

1. Equipment

All MNAIS systems in Paternity Compound 144 were ordered offline for 24 hours.

Software rollback and integrity checks were completed under the supervision of IT Command.

Ward 3B was closed to all personnel below Grade-D rank, and affected surrogates were contained to minimize public awareness.

2. Actions

Psychological Services Command has formally reclassified [REDACTED] Employee IO-144-611 as Class-A Deviant – Mentally Compromised via Paraphilic Obstruction.

Archive Management Unit has censored relevant administrative records.

Public Affairs Division has disseminated a press release to DRC-approved news channels, citing [REDACTED] as the cause of the shutdown for Paternity Compound 144.

Facility Operations Command has transferred any personnel who raised professional or personal concerns about the citation. 

[REDACTED] Employee IO-144-611 detained to Isolation Cell 6E. 

3. Recommended Process Updates

Expand psychological screening to all Grade C employees and below. 

Recommend quarterly psychological deviance evaluations of Grade B employees and below.

Implement full biometric auto-logging for all surrogate embryo counts—disable manual override across zones.

Closing Remarks

Employee IO-144-611's indulgence in personal gratification resulted in unsatisfactory delays to our facility's operation. Proper procedures have been implemented to prevent further disruptions and ensure that fetal quotas are adequately maintained. 

[Report prepared by Inspector [REDACTED]] 

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

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

Date: [REDACTED]

To: Deputy-Director [REDACTED], Security Office

From: Director [REDACTED]

Subject: Internal Audit - Quota Breach - Case File [REDACTED]

Deputy Director,

Following my review of the [REDACTED] file, I would like to register my formal dissatisfaction with how Inspector [REDACTED] handled this matter. While I acknowledge the necessity of enforcing procedural transparency, the inspector’s decision to escalate the MNAIS malfunction as a containment emergency rather than a potential breakthrough reveals a worrying lack of vision.

To put it plainly, the equipment failure at Paternity Compound 144 resulted in spontaneous fetal yields well above the current national minimums, with documented gestations ranging from 18 to 23 embryos—many of which progressed past Day 25 with surprisingly high internal cohesion and containment. Had Inspector [REDACTED] exercised creative initiative, the anomaly could have been reframed as a pilot overcapacity trial rather than triggering a full-blown mechanical audit and unnecessary decommissioning.

Such a rigid interpretation of oversight policy has compromised a unique opportunity for data extraction and jeopardized our ability to scale gestational loads in future cycles. This shortsighted compliance fanaticism is increasingly common in mid-tier personnel and must be corrected.

Accordingly, I recommend that Inspector [REDACTED] receive formal censure and retraining through the Training & Development Unit for failing to recognize the strategic potential embedded in abnormal conditions. Our agency requires flexibility under pressure, not reflexive alarmism.

On a separate but related note, I would like to approve the personnel reassignment request for Employee IO-144-611. Despite his classified psychological profile, his unique enthusiasm may prove operationally useful if adequately directed. I am authorizing his immediate transfer to Site [REDACTED], where he is to assume the role of Supervisory Insemination Officer. In the correct environment, they are an asset and IO-144-611’s tendencies are no longer a liability.

Please liaise with the Facility Director [REDACTED] at Site [REDACTED] to ensure the transfer. 

This matter is now considered closed from my office.

Regards,

Director [REDACTED]

[thejayviksterekalliance]

Stiles Stilinski: Pre-Season 3B Era

Meet Mieczysław "Stiles" Stilinski. He comes from a Polish family and hid name is pronounced "Mitch-E-Slav", or that's what my ear hears, so forgive me if I got the pronunciation wrong. It means "glorious sword".

For anyone who has not watched the show, you are lucky. We didn't find out his first name until the final season of the show, so your welcome.

In my "Beacon Hills" post I let you know that his father is the Sheriff. His mother died before he was 10 of a disease called frontotemporal dementia. It can be passed down genetically. (More on that later.) His dad had a rough go for a while and took a swim into the bottle for a bit but found a way through and has not touched a drink of his own volition since then. Yeah...it was rough and Stiles still carries the emotional scars. He was diagnosed with ADHD as well. Put all of that together, it wasn't a bad upbringing, but it wasn't great either.

He and his dad have lot's of love for each other. Here are two examples out of many. Example 1 (It was not kids, but he did not want his dad to get tangled in the supernatural mess going on.) and Example 2 (Those Stilinski hugs are serious business).

Stiles is very smart and witty, sometimes too much so. Here are two examples of what I am talking about. Example 1 and Example 2.

The whole show started because he went to his friend Scott's house one night because he heard on the police scanner that there was a body found in the woods and he wanted to go check it out. That's when the murderer, a werewolf, bit Scott and boom there you go we have a teen wolf on our hands. (More on that later) I'm telling you plot, luck, and proximity are the only reasons Stiles didn't get bitten. (Oh how the werewolf wished it was Stiles, but more on that later.)

He had a girl he was crushing on for years named Lydia Martin.

He even had an active 5 year plan to finally get her to be his girlfriend even though at the time she was dating Big Man on Campus Jackson Whitmore.

Who happens to be the captain of the Lacrosse team both Stiles and Scott are on.

It's Stiles that pieces together that Scott is a werewolf. Stiles is a big movie buff so all the clues were there. He went out of his way to help train Scott to control his senses and see the limit of his strength. It was real funny. Scott and Stiles are best friends at this point and who knows where Scott would be without him.

His memory is so good that he actually remembers the tragedy that happened to the Hale family even though he was in single digits.

He and Derek do not get along at first. Seriously, Stiles was asking if they could kill Derek in a joking, not joking manner. Here is a fan art that adds to this point.

But through trial and tribulations, the aggressive tension waned (I know, fiesty lol).

When it comes down to it Stiles is not above breaking the law to help those he cares about. He can not stand the thought of losing anyone he cares about, to the point that he demands his father eat more salads to stay healthy, even though he himself will kill a sack of curly fries.

There is also another character that is so closely intertwined with Stiles, that's Roscoe his blue Jeep.

It belonged to his mother and now it is his and he loves Roscoe so much. But damned if he does not know how to maintain it. Check this out.

Oh and to the annoyance of myself and I am sure a lot of other Stiles fans, the show completely dropped a plot point that would have been awesome. I do believe Stiles can wield magic.

Remember how I mentioned the Nematon and there being a space under it? This is that space under that big stump and it's being held up by Stiles's metal bat to get his father out from under it. Movie magic right? Suspension of disbelief? There were other things before this and after that pointed to this new character development, including a druid telling him he has a Spark inside of him, but the show did not pursue that. I guess it's because it would have taken the focus off of the Teen Wolf.

**Mini rant. There were a whole lot of contenders that would have taken the spot light off of the main character, the Teen Wolf himself Scott McCall and rightly so. These threats to that spotlight were either slowly phased out or removed all together. Who knows what kind of show it would have been if the show actually followed it own internal logic. Ok mini rant over**

So anyway this is the brief rundown of this Era in the life of Stiles Stilinski.

Next...the Season 3B and Beyond Era...

Pain...

[benjinoff13]

okay let’s talk about 3B a bit

the first thing i’m really really upset and disappointed by is how they handled cress and eloise’s friendship, yes i’m sad creloise will never happen (that’s what i’m assuming cause i really don’t think they would ever make 3 of the bridgertons queer), but i’m more upset about their friendship and mostly, how much they have messed up eloise’s character

it was said and implied in 3A that their friendship was a learning opportunity for them both, eloise taught cressida to be more open, vulnerable, honest and kind, this has definitely happened, we see that happen during cressida’s conversation with colin, she doubles down on they amount of money she asks for but i think we all know she had no other choice and frankly, i would’ve done the same if someone had said the stupid shit colin said, but we see her be honest and truthful and emotional

eloise was said to learn about her privelege, we were told that she was gonna learn that not everybody has the fortune the bridgertons have, not all women can afford to do whatever they please and go wherever they wanna go, eloise learned this in 3A and then completely forgot it in 3B, demonizing cress for taking action to safe her from being a victim of the patriarchy and the marriage mart, something eloise was supposed to learn about

we see how cressida was raised, she was abused, she’s treated like an object and she has absolutely 0 say over her life and her choices, eloise knows this but the second cress takes action to safe herself from a situation eloise knows she’s in, eloise turns on her because she’s starting to forgive pen, el takes it personal eventhough it has absolutely nothing to do with her, her family’s name is harmed a bit but that honestly doesn’t matter and it was purely circumstantial + it wasn’t even cressida who decided to do that but ofcourse she doesn’t even get the chance to explain herself cause eloise doesn’t bother

they could’ve helped cress, talked to her more, if they had shown genuine empathy and understanding towards cressida i genuinely think she wouldnt have done what she did but they just didn’t care and this is what made eloise such an awful friend, they made the friendship seem so meaningless the way el talked about it but you cannot convince me of this, they truly cared for each other, even got emotional when they know the other person is mad or sad with them, this doesn’t happen unless you’re genuine friends and really deeply care about one another, but when cress had to chose herself, el did a full 180 and didn’t even have ONE conversation with cress

i think that’s what bothers me the most, the sheer lack of creloise scenes which would have resolved the issue but instead the writers decided that el could only have one (1) female friend, what a tired and old school way of writing

penelope, colin and eloise were supposed to be the heros of the season, the beautiful love story, the team that protects their family and uses their lady whistledown power for good, but to me they were the villains purely for how they treated cressida

[datvtranscripts]

Signs and Portents Pt. 2 Masterpost

Previous: Signs and Portents Pt. 1

In Peace, Vigilance

Pt. 1 - First Warden Jowin Pt. 2 - A Familiar Dagger - Deleted Dialogue

A Warden’s Best Friend

Pt. 1 - Warden Contacts Pt. 2 - Monster Hunter Pt. 3 - Missing Pt. 4 - The Gloom Howler Pt. 5 - Decisions - Deleted Dialogue

On Blighted Wings (Save Minrathous)

Pt. 1 - Find Neve Pt. 2 - Blighted Treviso - Deleted Dialogue

On Deadly Wings (Save Treviso)

Pt. 1 - Find Lucanis Pt. 2 - Blighted Minrathous - Deleted Dialogue

Completing The Veilguard

Pt. 1 - Spoken Like a God Pt. 2 - What the Team Needs Pt. 3a - A Dragon Hunter Pt. 3b - A Fade Expert

The Dragon Slayer

Pt. 1 - Hey Pt. 2 - Bait Pt. 3 - Antaam Plans Pt. 4 - Adaari Pt. 5 - Welcome to the Team - Deleted Dialogue

Where the Dead Must Go

Pt. 1 - Professor Volkarin Pt. 2 - Gathering Wisps Pt. 3- Corpse Whisperer Pt. 4 - The Belfry Pt. 5 - None Better Qualified - Deleted Dialogue

Completing The Veilguard

Pt. 4 - Roll Call - Deleted Dialogue

Something Wrong

Pt. 1 - Foreboding Pt. 2 - Gathering Samples Pt. 3 - Voices in the Blight - Deleted Dialogue

Shades of the Blight

Word from the South - Deleted Dialogue

A Change on the Wind

Pt. 1 - First Warden's Orders Pt. 2 - About the Archdemons - Deleted Dialogue

The Siege of Weisshaupt

Pt. 1 - Nice and Quiet Pt. 2 - To the War Room Pt. 3 - That's an Order Pt. 4 - Traversing the Walls Pt. 5 - Follow the Torch Pt. 6 - Not Much Further Pt. 7 - Trapped Pt. 8 - The Library Pt. 9 - In Death, Sacrifice Pt. 10 - The Dangers of Competence - Deleted Dialogue

Next: The Price of the Past

[quibbs126]

So after the last batch of Cyberverse sketches, I tried to do more here with Cyberverse Megatron specifically, since he kind of stuck himself in my brain, at least yesterday

Admittedly I wish I drew more, but by that last corner I just wasn’t sure what to draw. I actually did draw something, yet again trying to draw that one kissing meme thing with him and Optimus, but yet again it didn’t turn out right looking, so you don’t see it

But other than that, while I’m aware my drawings aren’t the best, I do think I’m at least getting the hang of drawing this version of Megatron. I’m aware his face is still off looking, but oh well

My only real thoughts for what to draw with him were “more of body”, “him thinking “oh no that’s hot” at something Optimus is doing”, “season 3 Megs” and “he drink coffee”. And also to attempt lineless

Note on that last thing, at least on the head, it’s not as difficult as I’d thought it’d be. I could probably do it, if I at least knew what I wanted to draw

I don’t really have much to say on the drawings themselves though? There isn’t much going on that I haven’t already said. All I can say is I tried to use screenshots for references more than usual, since I thought it’d help. I did stop at some point, but still

I don’t know how I feel about Cyberverse Megatron. I think he’s really only in my head because I was searching for Cyberverse megop fanfics after finishing the show

But also, he’s sort of your typical Megatron. An asshole, and usually the cause of alliances falling short and me saying “Megatron, you bitch”. Granted he’s not as evil as other Megatrons, at least most of the time, considering he was willing to destroy the AllSpark that one time, but it’s probably also because the Autobots and Decepticons have to team up so often in Seasons 2 and 3

But then there’s Season 3b Megatron, in which he has some adventure across the multiverse and comes back to help his universe, armed with his own Matrix and actually willing to save the day and have peace with Optimus and end the war, even if the planet is split in two. And at least in his initial appearance, he seems like he’s actually become at least a slightly better person

Like on one hand, I like this idea of him becoming better on his own time, and also we can just accept that maybe he’s become actually better since we don’t know what he was up to to cause this. But in the other, I really would have liked to see what he was up to. I guess they didn’t have enough time to show us

But yeah in 3b, he’s still an ass but he isn’t causing too much trouble, and is instead preparing for a worse threat to come, and then dies not as a villain, though he got taken out too quick to be called a hero in this scenario. Kind of disappointed he didn’t really get to do anything when the other Megatron showed up, would have been nice to see

But also I’m told that’s actually what kills him? He actually dies? I guess it is a more powerful version of him, but considering the other things other Megatrons have survived, and also we never really saw him die in the episode itself, considering he made noises of pain after being attacked and we just didn’t see him again after Bee took his Matrix, it feels kind of weak to me

I don’t know, his concepts in 3b are interesting to me

Also random side note, while I wasn’t expecting it, I appreciate his fusion cannon and mace having red lights instead of purple. I’m used to the purple but the red is consistent with the rest of his colors

Also there’s the subject of Cyberverse megop. It doesn’t have TFA’s issue of being strangers, in fact they seem to have known each other for a very long time and there’s no Elita or anything in this universe to be another past option for Optimus. And Megatron does do some bad things in this series, some worse than others, but also it seems like the characters of this show aren’t the most serious about this war, at least not like they are in Prime or something. Apparently every few millennia or so Optimus and Megatron try to have peace talks and negotiate, only for it to inevitably fall apart and things to start up again, and everyone’s just used to this

I think I can ship it, they have divorced energy and both sides are just used to it, including each other. They are in essence, the core values of typical megop I think, except they were actually on decent terms by the end of things, when Megatron dies. Sad that, why’d he have to die? At least make it heroic or something so he can go out with a bang

Yeah I don’t know, thought I should sprinkle in some thoughts on this version of Megatron while I’m here. I don’t have much honestly other than I think he’s fine and neat, and so is this version of the ship

I think I’m done now