#you can’t look at this scene and think ah yes straight

[mywritersmind]

OK PUT MY NUMBER. - LN4

summary : Based off the gilmore girls scene where Logan and his friends meet Rory at her dorm!! Hope you enjoy <3

listen up : no warnings!! lando!collegereader

word count : 1017

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“Okay, Franco. Last building!” A man walks past me as I rearrange the items I'm attempting to carry without dropping. “Please say it looks familiar!”

I grab my coffee and stack of books, eyeing the group of boys who have strayed into the girls' dorms.

“Ahh!” One of the boys says, his eyes closed like he’s trying to manifest his way.

The tallest (and that’s not saying much) and tannest of the group groans, “Apparently it doesn’t seem familiar.” He’s got a thick accent, maybe spanish?

“Hold on!” The other boy with thick waves finally opens his eyes and says, “Hold. On. Yes! Here, this is where she lives!” And for the first time, me being quite nosy, it finally works out in my favor.

They go straight to my dorm. My single dorm.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” I walk closer to them, the one in the back has his hands lazily strewn in his pockets and walks straight past me with no answer.

“Hey!” I follow them to my door where the other two are writing on what looks like a crumpled piece of paper.

“Don’t put your number, Don’t put your number!” His accent surprises me but as I stare at the back of his curly hair, I scoff at me being ignored.

“I’m not putting my number, I’m putting your number!” His friend says, a twinkle in his green eyes

“That’s my room.” I speak up finally, the three turn harshly and eye me.

“Ok, put my number.” The curly haired one, british and ridiculously attractive, says as he smirks.

His eyes examine me as his friend groans, “Are you sure this is your room?”

I nod, “I’m sure.”

“I could have sworn it was her room!”

I balance my books, “What’s her name, maybe I know her.”

“It was uh…” he uses his hands to talk, “Short.”

I raise a brow, “Oh! I can understand your disappointment… losing a potential soulmate like that.” The cute one close to me laughs, “But that’s still my room.”

He motions to me, “I’m sorry about the mix up. It’s just- my friend Franco here needs to learn that Guineess and blondes don’t mix.”

“Redheads.” Franco corrects, “It doesn’t mix with redheads!”

He turns back to me, looking tired, “We sincerely apologize and will now leave you with your…” he eyes my books, “library?”

I frown as the other two run up the stairs, Franco saying his memory is coming back. I slip my key out of my pocket and start to open my door, “It’s called being a college student.” I sigh at the heaviness of my books, though most are for my own pleasure, “I’ll leave you to your friends.” I struggle with my key more, my cheeks getting warm because he’s just staring at me.

The man bites his lip, thinking for a moment, “Ah, they can manage.” Before I know it, his (huge) hands are taking my books from me. I eye him at first but then unlock my door with ease.

“Thanks.” I mumble and step inside, he follows after me and I don’t shut the door. He sets the books down on my table, his eyes darting around.

I watch him push up the sleeves to his blue long sleeve and take him in.

He’s got curls, a clean face, and a muscular build. He's not very tall but still looks down on me. The thing I can’t help but notice is his eyes clashing with his dark hair.

“I’m Lando!” He holds out his hand which I shake with a slightly confused expression, “Sorry again about my friends.”

“Y/n.” I smile politely, wishing I had cleaned up my place or something, “And don’t worry. They're funny.”

He rolls his eyes, “Franco and Carlos are definitely strong personalities!” I laugh, “We’re visiting Carlos’ sister. She’s a freshman…” he looks nervous saying the year, “Francesca.”

“Oh I'm not very clued into the freshman circle.” I shrug, “I’m a senior.”

“Oh shit- I just thought cause the dorm…” Lando shakes his head, “I should have noticed, you don’t look eighteen.”

I raise a brow, “Appreciate it…” He scratches the back of his neck and I laugh purely at the situation of this random British man in my room, “Uh- where do you go to school?”

“Oh I don’t!” He seems happy that I asked him something, “I’d be…” He counts on his fingers, “two years out anyway but I never went to uni. I work with those two muppets.”

“Oh!” I can’t help but mentally scream that he’s in my age range, “What do you do?”

Lando looks nervous again, his facial expressions are undeniably impossible to hide, “We drive.”

“Drive?” He nods, “Like a chauffeur?”

“There’s a car involved.” He holds back his smile as there’s booming footsteps and two heads pop into my room.

“Lando boy!” Carlos grins, “He thinks he remembers!”

Lando looks at me, looking regretful but still walks over to the open door, “See you around, Y/n.” He smiles and god I’ve never seen a smile like that. I feel my cheeks go pink, smiling softly and waving.

“Good luck.”

The door shuts a second later and I immediately bring my books to my makeshift bookshelf, trying to ignore the smile on my face.

I’m being ridiculous, I know I am. He’s older, British, and I will probably never see him again! But at least I can zone out in class about something.

I pull a hoodie over my head when I hear a knock at the door, “Coming!” I yell as I stumble over the clothes on my floor.

Except when I open the door, no one’s there.

I think it’s some bored frat boys until I go to close the door and see a yellow sticky note stuck to the wood.

I look around but there’s no cute man around. I shut the door, leaning against it and smiling down at the note, taking out my phone and typing in the number.

[williamvapespeare]

"every day i'm fucking smiling;" a rant (cogent, intellectual character study) about Charles

We all know that Charles Rowland is THE character of all time. Obviously. Undisputedly (except by Netflix) blabla. I, a mixed race bisexual idiot with daddy issues, am about to fucking get into it.

I think there are a lot of ways to get into that end of ep 4 scene – I think we can look from trauma, we can look from model minority syndrome, we can look from a place of people pleasing to the extreme, but I think the best way to get into Charles (for me, personally) is to look at him as a character formed of intersections. Of in-betweens. In literally EVERY way possible, he is between things. He’s mixed race, he’s (probably) bisexual, he’s between life and death, he’s between good and bad, he’s probably sitting somewhere between trauma and healing – like, he’s CONstantly engaging in coping mechanisms and that itself is an in between.

Ok this idea of “I must be liked” very obviously will come from living a life where the opposite of not being liked is always violence, and that definitely can’t be understated. But I think this whole scene and this line in particular really speak to this very specific feeling that comes with inhabiting an identity that is ALWAYS seen as “not enough” in some way. Like, if you sit in a place where you don’t speak one side of your family’s language well enough and simultaneously aren’t white enough (or whatever enough) for the other side, you’re just like fundamentally culture-less and fighting to just be ANYTHING.

(Another GREAT example of this I think is the game Life is Strange 2, which is about two Hispanic American brothers, one of them speaks Spanish and the other one is much younger and doesn’t and there’s a bit where the younger brother doesn’t want to leave the US and says “I don’t even speak Spanish” and the other one is like “don’t worry, everyone likes you.” Like YES being “““Likeable””” is maybe the only way in when you are so fundamentally detached from a thing that you are also fundamentally part of, anyway!!)

Similarly, like all of us bisexual people know we’re constantly getting shit from both sides, from straight people and gay people and probably like, corpses decomposing in the ground who are throwing around terms like “gold star lesbian” or whatever the fuck. People just look at whatever relationship you’re in and they’re like ah yep that’s you!!

Like the whole thing is the most reductive narrow-minded stupidity, but it’s also just THE WAY. It’s the way of stuff. And being like ok, I AM NOT ENOUGH OF ANYTHING THAT I AM. How are you going to deal with that, you’re going to try and be likeable?? Because that’s something you can control!!!

And I’m low key so mad that we can’t see a continuation of this story where we get to see a character slowly come to terms with these in-betweennesses and say like, I’m not actually two halves, I’m two wholes. This is intentional in-betweenness. Like yes, blabla let the boy be bi, but it’s SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT. And I trust this show and I trust these writers to get that right and we were robbed of that.

So yeah idk tldr “every day I’m fucking smiling” was like the gut punch of the century. Whoever wrote that I’m omw to haunt your local Denny’s with my extroverted mixed race bisexual energy THANK U

[soobnny]

shall we dance? — bang chan. strangers to lovers. fluff. chan gives you his shoes when your feet hurt. conversation inspired by a scene in little women. (0.9k words)

Bright lights pollute your vision, and it’s getting hard to hear anything over the music echoing around the room. 

Nobody told you how hard it’d be to look for quiet, even just a thin line, amidst one of the nights teenage girls will be writing about in their diaries when they get home. Quaint gestures of friendliness are starting to feel a little forced. Friends of a friend mingle around, clad in the prettiest dresses they spent months looking for. 

You’re not quite sure if you’re enjoying the night or if your thoughts are just a little clouded because no one has asked you to dance. All you know is that your brand new heels are burning holes on the soles of your feet and you don’t think you can handle another look of pity from your friend. 

Maybe it’d be best to mask yourself amongst the massive curtains decorating the corners of whomever’s house this is. You’re sure you saw a room there when you’d first walked into the house. So, with your gaze straight ahead at what’s meant to be the dance floor, you start backing up–step by step, careful not to startle anyone’s periphery. The sight of you sneaking away might be the laughing stock of the town. 

“Hi.”

The sudden voice startles you. You don’t expect anyone else to be in there, especially when the night is reaching its high. 

“Hi. Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was here.” You smile sheepishly. Though, you suppose being caught by one is better than the burning gaze of a hundred. 

He has a cute moon smile, eyes morphed like crescents, and he isn’t unattractive either. He’s opposite the spectrum–almost breathtaking–clad in a white dress shirt with a few unbuttoned at the top. You’re sure it costs more than everything you’re wearing tonight. His hair is wavy, but effortless in a way you know that he’d spent maybe a minute to get it to look that way. How is someone like him hiding away from the crowd? If he were to step out, you’re sure that hundreds of girls would line up even just to look at him. 

“It’s alright. Don’t mind me.” He’s still smiling, though a little more effortless now. “Stay, if you’d like. It’s a little overwhelming out there, no?” 

“I won’t disturb you?” 

He shakes his head cutely, hair bouncing a little as he does. 

“You’re Miss (Last Name), right?” 

You’re surprised he knows your name, maybe a little tempted to ask how. But with the way he’s dressed, and how he’s comfortably lounged in the room, it would be safe to assume he’s the son of whoever owns this house. He must be acquainted with at least a few of the guests his father invited. 

You return his smile. He’s looking directly at you, patiently waiting for your confirmation.

“Ah, yes. But I’m not Miss (Last Name), I’m only (name). Last names bring heavy expectations, and tonight, I just want to be (name).” 

His smile grows.

“Well then, I’m only Chan.”

The air feels easy, a few giggles escaping both your lips after you’d both introduced yourselves. The unpleasant awkwardness of just meeting someone is almost non-existent. 

“Don’t you want to go out there and dance?” You fiddle with your fingers, shifting your feet a little before returning your gaze back on the boy. 

“Would you like to dance with me?” 

Heat crawls up on your cheeks. You don’t know why you feel embarrassed. Maybe it’s because minutes ago you’d been sulking over not being asked to dance. And while you’d love to, your brand new heels are killing you—you think scars are forming from the way the skin of your feet that’s in contact with your shoes feel like they’re burning. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry.” You shoot him an apologetic look.

“Why not?”

“My feet are burning. I don’t even think I can walk.” You laugh, sitting down and taking off a heel to show him your ankles. Just as you’d suspected, it’s painted bright red. Just a bit more friction and you’re sure it’s going to start bleeding. “But I really, really would’ve wanted to dance with you.”

Chan crouches down to inspect your ankles, a respectful hand on your foot to assess if there was any scarring. Then, he starts taking off his own shoes. You don’t even get to ask him what he’s doing, not when he’s pushing his massive shoes in front of your feet.

“Wear mine. Then it won’t have to hurt.”

“But then you won’t be wearing—”

He gently slips his shoes on yours after taking your heels off for you, even despite your protests that he’d be wearing nothing but his socks. 

Chan offers a hand out to you, and it’s only then you realize a few silver rings decorating his slender fingers–the ones that are a few inches from your own hand.

When you take his hand, you first discern how big it is compared to yours. He’s very tall, shoulders far broader than yours. It’s driving you a little crazy. Then, your eyes trail down to his massive shoes that’s now on your feet. 

Your attention on his shoes is short-lived when you feel a palm grazing over your waist before settling itself in a gentle grip. The music is muffled, but it’s loud enough that you can still dance a little to the beat. 

“Now, shall we dance?” 

[kayschariot]

sex on the couch please 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

yes🙏🙏

-

“I can’t stop imagining you like that now..”

(smut..duh)

“Do you wanna watch a movie.” Alex asked you and you’d nod. you two would get set up and be sitting there with a blanket cuddling.

It would all be fine if the sex scene in the movie didn’t turn Alex on, he couldn’t stop thinking about you being in those positions and he looked at you. “oh my god..” He’d glance at you occasionally but the lingering thought of you naked made him crazy, crazy enough he got an erection but thank god the useless ass blanket was there right..RIGHT!?

no you noticed and looked straight at him, to be honest you didn’t know if it was the sex scene, you kind of hated him staring at other women like that but you get it.

“I can’t stop imagining you like that now..” He covered his face and groaned. You’d understand now and giggle. you’d continue watching but slip your hand under his sweat pant through his boxers and rub his bulge. “Holy fuc-Ah~” He’d lean his head back looking at you desperately.

he’d slip your hand out and grab both of your hands pinning you back to the couch and kissing you aggressively. You couldn’t help but whimper under him.

he put his knee between your legs putting a bit of pressure on your pussy making shivers run down your spine.

you had butterflies from this and felt all tingly inside. He broke the kiss slipping his shirt off and throwing it.

“Goddamn I hate when you do teasing shit,” He’d start taking of your clothes successfully and finally got to your bra and panties,

He’d unclasp it from the back with one hand and slip it off and smile when he sees your boobs. He’d tweak a nipple getting a reaction out of you cause you were moaning as he did so. He’d kiss down your neck massaging your nipple until he sucked on one.

You leaned your head back feeling some type of heat, or need that you needed satisfied, by him..only him.

he released his mouth with a almost silent ‘pop’ sound.

He’d look at the wet mark on your panties as he leaned up and smirked and slipped those off. he’d take his boxers off and get back on top of you positioning himself. He’d kiss the top of your head and stick his cock in slowly.

“A-Alex-..!” you’d feel pain almost immediately. “It’s Alright..it’ll feel good give it a second..” He said kissing you before getting fully inside you. “Damn you’re tight..” He said as he started to thrust slowly.

You started to whimper and moan and it made him so turned on. Alex started thrusting into you faster grabbing your hips and pulling them into him.

Your moans started getting louder..and you were grasping onto him trying to get a word out or say his name to try and slow him down but you couldn’t you just shut your eyes and leaned your head back.

“Look at me..” he’d grunt out grabbing your neck. You can’t tell if you were feeling fear or heat but you think it was both with how dominant he was being with you. “good girl.” He’d say once you to made eye contact and smirk seeing the reactions your pretty face made.

“You like it..Hmm?” He said as you got closer, You’d nod eagerly and he’d pull out. “Beg for it.” He’d say and reposition his hand to hold your face.

“A-Alex-..”

“No beg for it..” He’d say

“Please..i’m so close..” You’d say and he’d shake his head “more.” He’d demand and you’d be so pissed off clearly. “Alex..baby..please..please i wanna cum so bad pleaseee..” You’d say desperately, and start playing with your clit.

He’d smirk, “Damn..” He said not really letting it sink in that you’d practically let the boy do anything to you by now. He slid his cock in again, thrusting a couple more times and letting you finish, and when you did it was music to his fucking ears. He’d pull out, “Where do you want it?” He’d ask.

you shrugged so he came on your stomach. “You did so good, i love you” He’d kiss your head and get you two cleaned up. You guys would finish the movie cuddling on the couch and he told you how much he loved you.

[its-your-mind]

Jon Chester trying to communicate and/or comfort with statements is the cutest and funniest and most in-character shit.

Sam just joined a possibly-evil organization and seems way too interested in gaining knowledge from the stories? Has a history with the Magnus Institute? Well fuck I can’t let him end up back there.

Canaries should stay above ground.

Colin keeps looking too hard into what he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t know enough to stay safe. I have to warm him.

Voyeur needs to be seen to be believed. Scariest movie I have ever seen.

(Brief interlude when Jon finds out that Gerry is alive and has a permanent address which is a big enough ??? and feeling of relief and hope to risk a single email with an address so Sam can go see for him if it really is Gerry, if he’s really alive and if he’s okay (and then he is he’s happy and safe and he paints and goes to art shows and he calls Gertrude GeeGee). Bit of a shame about the name in the email address, though. Who knows, maybe that woman will stop calling him fucking Chester…)

Ahem.

Anyway, Sam won’t let the whole “Magnus Institute” thing go, and now Celia is here? Working here? Recognizing his voice? (Martin had to remind him who Celia was — Jon feels that his lack of remembrance is justified, in this case. Those tunnels blocked off his connection to the Eye! Remember what happened with the camera at Salesa’s? He forgot everything that happened there! Frankly, he’s impressed he even managed to remember meeting Melanie and Georgie down there, let alone the names of their awful annoying cult members. (Jon, be nice. It was the apocalypse). Well, I didn’t see you cozying up with that poet, whatever his name was— (*with sudden disgust* Arun.) *trying to keep a straight face* ah. yes, him.) What is Jon supposed to do about this? Well. Fine. If Sam intends to poke around, Jon can at least make the dangers present there clear.

Statement and Research assessment for artefact CD137. Magnus Institute. … [Transcription ends due to interruption. Statement giver declared dead by paramedics at scene.]

So. They went to the Institute. He knows about all of it, there was a tape recorder there. They were… in the Archives. In the assistants’ area where Tim used to throw the caps of his glitter pens to see how many he could get caught in Sasha’s hair before she noticed. Looking at the decrepit remains of the filing shelves he had been so fucking stressed about organizing. In his office.

Worms tracks on the ground. All paperwork removed or destroyed. And when Sam steps wrong, the tunnels. Oh, Christ. The tunnels. He drops a key down into them as he falls. Alice catches him. They leave. Some…thing takes the key Sam dropped. Unlocks the trapdoor, the one Leitner and Gertrude used to get in and out of the Archives. Here in Manchester, maybe the only way out of the underground passages. The trapdoor opens. Something pulls itself out.

~~~

And now, Alice has been being stalked by drowned corpses. Okay, sure. Yeah, shit uhhh… okay here’s one. Here, look, same kinda thing happened here. That tattoo artist shows up again too! Gotta keep track of reoccurrences. Learn as much as you can — the tip-off about the fire extinguishers saved Jon, Tim, and Martin in the archives. (And Sasha, before that… thing lured her into Artifact Storage.)

It belongs to the deep. I’m going to go get it and I’m going to find it and if they try and stop me I swear the ocean will claim us all. I can taste the salt and spray. It’s waiting in the water.

And now back to Sam. Back to warnings. It’s not just artifacts. The Institute deals with dangerous people, too.

This room, it’s a mess. Printouts, delivery notes, a bunch of rejection letters from some institute he pinned to the wall with a kitchen knife. And it's hot in here, dad. Too hot. Oh god. I can feel it. My throat is swelling. And it itches. I can still hear all the snakes brushing up against the door and... in the walls, I think. Christ, they’re in the walls...

Alice got attacked. He was there, he managed to get a tape on the scene, he heard it all. It was one of the drowned things.

Ink5oul knows something about them. What the hell, right? Michael gave Sasha the tip about the fire extinguishers. Let’s mine another colorful creep for information. Ink5oul dug one of these things up for some reason. Hold on, hold on, he just saw something about them, something about getting some kid to follow them to a graveyard…

We head on through the graves and then they point to one of ‘em and just give me a look. I was no cap shook and then they just said “dig”. I laughed, ‘cause, like, the ‘hell? But they were serious.

And at the same time, Celia keeps waking up on the ground, closer and closer to Oxford each time, like there’s something gently tugging her back towards the world she left. She doesn’t know how to stop it. Jon knows how that feels, the feeling like your own body is just a puppet tangled in invisible strings, at risk of starting a dance you don’t know, to music you can’t hear, at any moment, without any warning.

There isn’t anything that he can really do to help her. But he found it comforting to hear what happened to Gertrude.

I’ve lived Darien’s life for four years now. It wasn’t as hard as you’d think, turns out your world and mine are pretty similar.

CELIA (to computer): Thanks, I guess. Not exactly the same is it?

No. No, it’s not. He knows that there isn’t really any comfort to be found in knowledge when all you learn only points you more and more towards the conclusion that you are alone, and helpless, and powerless against the forces that are dead-set on fucking up your life.

[misstycloud]

Haii!! I've read your work before! And I absolutely adore all your fics < 3

If possible, may I request a yandere actor x background actor reader? (Like they have no speaking role, just their role is to stand there?) And somehow the reader caught the yandere's attention? XD

A/n: sup’ I’ve been gone a while. Sry for not being so active but here’s this.

————-

She didn’t do anything; nothing except standing there quietly in the background, melting into it like one tree among many in a forest. She was worth a penny compared to him- she didn’t even have any lines! So why were his eyes always drawn to her?

Perhaps it was because she didn’t try to cover his attention like all the others. It was offensive, really, how they thought he didn’t notice; they believed he couldn’t se through their over the top compliments and fake smiles.

But it was a small price to pay for such success. ‘You can’t have everything’, his father told him that. ‘You can either be rich, or you can be happy. There is no in between.’

(They were neither, but that hardly seems important)

He had to admit his father’s judgement to be correct.

“Shooting in ten!” Someone yelled.

There was no time for him to ponder over useless things, he was there to work, not to waste away inside the trailer. After having the makeup artist give him a touch-up, the tall man went over to the set(while reviewing the script inside his head one last time) in order to film the next scene.

“It’s all thanks to Gareth’s amazing, awesome, fantastic performance and quick thinking we’ve been able to stay on time of schedule - I really did think we were gonners’ after that last prop broke.” The employee guiltily admitted before his collueges. “But luckily-“ he swung his arm around Gareth’s shoulders “- our dear ‘X- city’s Top Actor’ was here to save us, and to that I propose a toast!”

Gareth held back a sneer. It didn’t matter how enticing it sounded like, he could not do it. Because if he did, then his perfect facade would be torn apart by these…people. That couldn’t happen. Ever. Too much sweat and blood has been shed for his position and there was no fucking way he would let anyone ruin that; that included himself.

Gareth wished for nothing more than to lock himself up inside his trailer and read in blissful silence, however that appeared to be near impossible. The team of employees had all joined forces to throw an ‘almost done’- party, where he was the star. Escaping was not possible.

With a sigh, he drank from his glass of wine. It was not the expensive kind he was now used to, but it would have to do. At least he managed to get some privacy at the party since most were currently drunk, throwing up in the bathroom or busy comverimg about-no doubt- stupid stuff. In a way, it was almost better this way. Despite what his line of work would say, he felt more comfortable when no one was looking at him- searching for faults and broken pieces.

“Enjoying the party?” A curious voice poked a hole in his bubble of isolation.

What surprised Gareth first was the owner of the voice, and secondly that it didn’t sound drunk at all. It was her, the extra from some of the scenes. The third surprise that grazed his mind was the thought:

‘She’s pretty.’

The actor was close to smacking himself in the face. What was he thinking so suddenly? He must’ve had too much to drink as well. Yes, that was surely it. But he found it hard to avoid the kind yet perceptive eyes.

“Ehem,” He cleared his throat, choosing to look straight ahead. “Of course, I enjoy it very much.”

It was but wishful thinking she’d accept his answer and move on.

“Really?”

She sounded genuinely confused now. Why did she sound like the surprised one? It was starting to get on Gareth’s nerves. Who did she think she was, coming here and questioning him?

“Should I not be?” It came off a little harsher than he’d imagined, but if she noticed she didn’t comment.

“Ah, that’s not what I meant, sorry.”

He sighed. She apologised which meant he must do it too if he didn’t want to come across as an asshole.

“No, it is I who have not been in the best mood tonight, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

She laughed in response, pulling some out-of-control hair away from her face. Strangely, a part of him wished she didn’t do that, it was cute and framed her face well. Gareth was always a man of perfection and he enjoyed it on others as well. He was a star, why would he waste time on someone who didn’t even take into consideration to be presentable in front of others. But it’s not like he could voice these opinions to the public, or he’ll be done for.

Maybe he’d still get jobs(celebrities often gets a pass for things), but it would definitely change the view on him.

“I just didn’t think you liked these kind of events- with all the booze and social pressure and fakeness, I mean.”

Gareth turned to her in slight awe, listening as she continued.

“You usually have a detached look in your eyes, like you’re not really there? I don’t know how to explain it, but I just assumed you didn’t like parties. Besides, - I might not be an A-list celebrity- but I can see how it must be hard for you too. People come flocking around you, hoping to gain your favour, and you don’t know who to trust. Who is truly there for you, and who is only there for something else?” The young woman breathed out a sigh of relief. “Sorry if I rambled by the way, it can happen sometimes.”

Gareth, still in awe, stood silently and stared at her. Honestly, what the fuck? How did she- a mere background actor- manage to see through and tear apart the strong wall he’d spent so many hours to perfect? He was an actor for god’s sake, it was his job to pretend, and someone saw the true him anyway. But he was sure he’d never let his face betray him. So, how……?

“Hey are you okay?”

Snapping out of it, the man dismissed any previous thought and focused on the matter at hand. “Yes, I am fine. Thank you.” It was then he recalled something important he forgot to ask. “What is your name? I didn’t ask earlier, how rude of me.”

She smiled back at him, pointing at herself as she said, “I’m (y/n), it’s nice to meet you.” She proceeded to shake his hand politely. When their skin touched, all Gareth felt was the warmth that came with it.

“Yeah, nice to meet you too… (Y/n).”

It was after that night Gareth found himself seeking out (y/n) more. Though he’d tell himself that it was for job purposes and nothing else. He simply wanted to see that there was nothing bad going on and everything was running smoothly. It was a movie he started in, of course it had to be flawless; nothing short of perfect; absolutely splendid.

But whenever trouble arose or someone needed some sort of help, it made it easier for Gareth to sneak off and find his new friend. Were they friends? At least, that’s what he thought. He and (y/n) had shared many more conversations after that fateful party and she never wore a disgusted(maybe he’s exaggerating) expression when talking to him. So they have to be friends, right? It would be strange if they weren’t.

(Y/n) was, in fact, lovely. He’d had that suspicion about her since the beginning and it turned out to be accurate. She always asked how he felt that day, and it wasn’t in the superficial, polite way, she meant it. The thoughtfulness brought a new kind of ache to his chest. It hurt in some ways, yet he couldn’t get enough of it.

Other times she even came to him with a box of home cooked food. She said that he was free to throw it away if he didn’t like it and she wouldn’t hunt him down or anything. Gareth was stunned. Why would he wish to throw out the food she’s so carefully prepared for him? No way. He’d eat all of it. It didn’t matter if he liked it or not, he couldn’t dishonour her like that. It wasn’t polite. (He actually loved the food)

Gareth had at first felt goddy at the prospect that (y/n) willingly spent her free time to cook something for him. He must be special to her then; only that thought was later crushed. The actor was on his way outside to take a breather after a longer shoot, and in the corner of his eye he saw two of his colleagues sitting on a staircase. He paused. In their laps’ were plastic containers - lunch boxes- but that wasn’t what drew in his attention; they looked oddily familiar.

‘Wait a little…this is..?’

Oh, he definitively recognised the pink notes and the same-collection of stickers that attached it to the box. If he looked even closer, he was certain the handwriting would be familiar as well.

How could he be so stupid? Of course (y/n) made lunch for all her close colleagues, not just him. Why would she treat him any special? Yes, he was considered a star on the rise for more success, but he knew that hardly mattered to her. Although he tried convincing himself it hardly meant anything as long as he’s getting good meals and they’re still friends, it made things different. The meals weren’t the only thing he noticed afterwards. There were smiles, plenty of them, all wasted on pathetic nobodies. There were also the affection, the hugs, the hand holding. They were given to crew members feeling down and in need of comfort.

It was good that (y/n) cared about others; a quality many perceived as positive. However, Gareth himself could not see this as a good thing. Instead it left a sour taste in his mouth, just like the meal-donation.

Gareth grumbled over this for a long time and tried to figure out why he felt this way. It was stupid, he thought, that he was this worked up over some woman. Gareth a couple months ago would scoff at his current situation and tell him he was being ridiculous and had to stop grovelling in the dirt over some background actor.

The Gareth from a few months ago wouldn’t believe he had the ability to resort to something so childish, either. He was avoiding her like the plague, and barely glanced in her direction. If he absolutely had to talk to her then his answers would be curt and ‘don’t-bother-me-like’. What the hell was he doing? Giving (y/n) the silent treatment, like a child not getting the attention from his parents as he would’ve liked. He could tell the change in his behaviour made her sad, and she probably didn’t understand why either, which was even more sad. But the saddest part of all was that Gareth’s pride was stronger than his feeling of guilt.

A result from the prince-treatment he’d been getting for years.

It wasn’t until the day she approached him during break and said, “I wanted to say goodbye.” that he broke out of his bubble.

“What do you mean?” He asked, immediately straightening his back.

(Y/n) smiled melancholy, “the scenes I’m in-standing in the background, that is- are all over. It’s time for me to go home now. There’s nothing else for me to do here.”

The gears turned in the actors head. She was leaving? This place? Him?

“No, you can’t leave.” He blurted out without thinking. It came off as desperate and breathless, like a whining kid. He hated himself.

(Y/n) chuckled lightly, “Yeah, I wish I could stay longer, but I’m just a background character. I don’t have that privilege.”

Gareth though he heard her mutter under her breath, ‘-not like you.’

“Well this is goodbye then, it was fun to get to know you Gareth and be your friend.” She said before turning around and leaving him alone.

It wasn’t true. They hadn’t been friends at all the last weeks, and it was all his fault. Because he felt some petty competitiveness. And now (yn) was going away forever. What if he never gets to see her again? The idea hurt more than anything he’s felt before. It definitively hurt more than the time he broke his toe, or the time he slipped and got a concussion. None of it was close to the pain he experienced with the thought of losing her.

His sweet little background actor.

Now he understood. It was love. All of it was love. That’s why he was threatened by others taking up (y/n)’s time and why he enjoyed her company so much. He loved her. It was that simple.

There’s no way he could let her slip out of reach now. Not when she belongs to him.

[vonnawithav]

I don’t like romance in movies

Now, this is totally personal opinion and preference, so please keep that in mind when reading.

“I don’t like romance plots in movies”

That sounds so weird I know. Especially when this entire blog I dedicated to one ineffable couple I’ve hyper fixated on ever since I offhandedly watched a random show on prime when I was bored.

There’s lots of things I don’t like about the idea of stereotypical *ahem, usually heterosexual* romance, and one of those things is the perceived intensity of attraction.

While I understand it to an extent, I also don’t. On the few occasions I’ve been romantically interested in someone I’ve never had the urge to rip their clothes off and jump their skin, or marry them that afternoon.

I do however, want to show them my book collection, send them obscure memes, talk about that one scene in that one show I can’t move on from yet, listen to them talk about their passions, share romantic but subtle moments, and just generally enjoy each other’s company.

Maybe this is because my lack of neurotypical tendencies, my demisexuality, or just my queerness in general, I don’t know.

But this type of romance is rarely shown in media, (again, in my personal viewing experience), especially in straight media.

You’re probably wondering what the fuck this has to do with movies. Same honestly I lost my train of thought one sec-

Ah yes.

Romance in movies feels immensely rushed to me. There is no time to sit and talk while you watch the sunrise, there cannot be an entire episode where the entire plot line is your traumatic childhood and how you two can bond over the fact both of your dads left for milk and never came back, or your wooden frog collection.

Noooo, instead, there must be this instant inexplicable attraction that causes both of your hormones to go haywire, because the plot only has two hours to not only get through this plot line BUT the other three in the background.

For romance to work in my head, 👏🏾I 👏🏾 Need 👏🏾 Bonding 👏🏾 time 👏🏾.

That’s one of the many reasons I love OFMD and Good Omens so much, we get to see that bonding time.

Ed and Stede chilling while having breakfast in bed while they look at each other lovingly?

Goals.

Azira and Crowley sitting and enjoying a good bottle of wine while talking about the end of the world?

Never seen anything better.

I think romance is at its best when subtle and calming, not frantic and unnerving.

Don’t get me wrong, I think franticness has its place in romance, especially once sexual tension has begun, but there needs to be large spaces of comfort and safety in between. (In my personal opinion)

Alrighty then, I’ll be off.

Lmk if you see where I’m coming from, or if I’m just posting insane ramblings because I’m sleep deprived and recovering from a cold 🥲.

[mikoishere]

Alpha jing yuan x Omega male reader

Type: Smut | some angst

Kinks: Breeding kink | belly bulge kink | praising kink

Nicknames: pretty boy | Cockslvt | Daddy’s little b!tch

Contains: M!preg | Abortion | possesive jing yuan | omega verse | alpha x omega | creampies

Part 2

[Time skip] it was the next day, you woke up in Jing yuan’s bedroom..he wasn’t beside you since he probably went to work earlier than you, you got up dressing in the same clothing from yesterday, then quietly rushed out heading back to your house as you opened the door you head to the bathroom taking a quick shower changing into new clothes you then put on a black cloak heading out your house going to a nearby store “Hiya! Whatcha looking for?” The worker asked “your boss, he’s someone I know tell him I’m here for the pills.” You spoke quietly the cloak covering your features “ah so it’s you..right away.” The worker rushed at the back of the store coming back as quickly as possible setting the pills down on the counter “there ya go.“ he spoke, You sent down a pouch of gold coins it jingled. You then took the pills leaving the store, You then went to the Xianzhou luofu taking a glass of water drinking it down with the pill then I quickly threw the package that held the pill away going back to where everyone was, I helped out with yanqing and the others before You dropped to your knees coughing out blood as yanqing was taken by surprise but quickly taking action kneeling beside me holding my shoulder “[Name]..?!” He spoke panicking my vision getting blurry as jing yuan saw the current scene before his eyes as he rushed to carry you on his back rushing to his room as yanqing followed [time skip] it was the afternoon You woke up with Jing yuan sitting beside my bed looking at me worried, You then broke the silence speaking “it’s done for,” You held your belly “the life inside me.” You spoke looking at Jing yuan as he looked terrified his eyes was tearing up breath getting ragged as he leaned closer holding both my shoulders yelling at me as tears left his eyes “O-Our child..?!” The scene before you was heart breaking, but you knew you two wouldn’t work out..you were afraid of having a child. “I didn’t ask for you to knot me jing yuan..I was in heat and couldn’t think straight so even if the alpha weren’t you I probably would’ve let them have their way with me anyway.” You spoke coldly. Jing yuans face, was devastated he lowered his head his tears dripping on the sheets “we- we could’ve talked about this..” he spoke swallowing his own saliva, “it’s done for general, you know we can’t be together.” I spoke “so what exactly do you want from me?” I asked sternly as jing yuan looked at me tears filled his eyes “another child..!” He still held my shoulder as his expression was still the same, devastated and heart broken “w-who would want anything like that happen to their child..?!” Jing yuan spat out I clenched the blanket on me “you know we can’t conceive another child it would just die again anyway.” You spoke. His world shattered with those words “don’t say that!” He yelled back “of course we can conceive another child! So don’t think about anything like that!” He spat out tears rolling down his cheeks “so please..” he cried out “let’s conceive another child..” he pleaded

Yes reader is toxic in this😚

THIS IS SO SHORT IM SO SORRY I GOT LAZY ASF BUT PART 3 WILL BE OUT IN A FEW<3

[dark-frosted-heart]

Crown’s S Class Mission - Roger Barel (Bitter End)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this.

Roger: Hold up. Not gonna let you kill my cute student. Now then, it’s time for Instructor Roger’s fun and exciting punishment.

Master of the estate: Oliver, shut that guy up!

Instructor Oliver: The one who needs to shut up is you.

Oliver grabbed the man and pinned him to the floor.

Master of the estate: *cough* Wha-what are you doing!

Instructor Oliver: I can’t lie to myself anymore. That’s all.

Roger: Capture everyone involved.

--

What awaited was an unimaginable scene.

Roger used rigorous muscle training to punish those involved.

When they were no longer able to stand, they were handed over to the police.

Kate: The Beauty Muscle Club has pretty much dissolved.

Roger: That’s good. And all the hospitalized women will be compensated.

Kate: While money won’t fix their situation…I hope it’ll help, even if just a little.

Oliver the instructor also came forward as one of the accomplices.

After atoning for his crimes, he planned on running his own sports gym.

He wanted to establish a place for women to work out together.

???: Um, excuse me…

Kate: Emilia…

Emilia’s wise gaze caught mine when I turned around. 

(...If she overheard us, she knows that she got deceived, doesn't she?)

(...What can I say to her—)

Emilia: Um, thank you so much!

Kate: Huh?

Emilia winked and smiled.

Emilia: I’ve faced a series of disappointments, but I can’t let that get me down.

Her strength revealed how much she had gone through in her life.

Kate: …I’ve also faced a series of disappointments. I could only think about how useless and pathetic I was. But I can’t stay depressed.

Emilia: I agree. I’ll see you around. Take care of yourself, Kate.

While I waved goodbye to Emilia, I noticed Roger’s gaze on me.

Kate: What is it?

Roger: Nothing. Just thinking about how you’re growing into a fine woman.

Kate: D-don’t praise me out of the blue. Besides, it’s not like you raised…

Roger: Yeah, yeah. Anyway, as a reward for growing up well, I’m taking you out somewhere nice.

--

Roger took me to a restaurant by Big Ben.

Roger: Been coming here ever since Ellis told me about it. Basically, everything here’s pretty good.

(...Roger brought me to such a nice restaurant)

Alarms bells started going off in my head.

Kate: …Are you’re going to make me do something again?

Roger: What do you take me for?

Roger stifled back a laugh and stared straight at me.

Roger: Don’t worry. There’s nothing behind the reward today.

Emma: …Reward?

Roger: I saw how hard you’ve been working…Good job.

(Ah…)

Hearing those words, it was clear that he brought me here as a reward.

Kate: Thank you…But, I don’t deserve it. I got too emotional to make rational decisions.

Roger: I suppose that’s true. But I would’ve slapped that guy myself if you didn’t. He deserved it. Getting angry for the sake of others is admirable.

Kate: …

Roger: Kate.

Kate: Yes?

Roger: You’re strong enough.

(What do I do…I’m going to cry)

Roger’s carrot and stick method always disturbed my heart.

If he did this on purpose, then he’s pretty evil.

Roger: Oh it’s here. The roast beef here’s delicious. Here.

The simple look on Roger’s face when he looked at the meat blew my sentiments away.

Kate: Hehe…It really does look delicious…

Roger: … Hey, Kate.

Kate: Yes?

Roger: Being strong doesn’t mean doing things alone. Being able to rely on someone’s also a strength. So you can rely on me.

After saying that, Roger took a huge bite out of the meat.

Roger: Mmm, yum. Come on, it’s getting cold.

Kate: O-okay. Mmm…Wow, it’s really good! It’s so juicy and tender. It’s amazing.

Roger: …o_o Hahaha! You’re as restless as ever. Remember to chew. My family’s corgi used to eat so fast that they’d choke. They look just like you.

Kate: There you go again comparing me to a dog!

Roger: All that barking’s the same too.

Kate: Ugh…

We argued like usual, but my heart felt warmer.

Roger’s words made me feel really happy…and I kept arguing with him so that he wouldn’t notice.

--

Some time later, I joined Jude and Ellis on another mission.

Ellis: Kate, you’ve been moving pretty smoothly.

Kate: Thank you. I’ve been doing strength training.

Jude: Ya still lookin’ pretty soft.

Kate: I-I’m planning on gaining muscle!

Ellis: Good luck, I’ll be cheering you on.

Ellis smiled and put his lips close to my ear.

Kate: Ellis…?

Ellis: Kate, Roger’s going to be in the lounge tonight.

Kate: Huh?

Ellis: You want to report your hard work and get praised, don’t you?

Ellis smiled gently at my surprise.

(I didn’t say that…)

Ellis: Or do you want to go out to dinner?

Kate: I’m heading back. I…have things to do in the castle.

I wonder how Roger will react when I tell him how I did today.

I definitely didn’t want him to know that I was walking a little faster than usual.

[danjaley]

Alternative Ending to 1793

(Lots of alternative plotlines in this year!)

So the gist of the plotline always was that Matt and Jon return, on the whole successful, but nothing really is as it was before. Jon is heartbroken about Nicolas and went to exile in Cornwall to avoid him. Matt learns about his children's illnesses and Alasdair's plans to visit his mother. Originally there was to be a complete hysteric letter from herself, but it never progressed past those two sentences. I still think Ysobel's reaction is very much in character, but when I wrote this, I thought it was the first letter the Duchess sent in those nine years.

The Duchess’s letter: Do not deny me the comfort to see my son once more! It is the most cruel thing a mother can suffer to be separated from her child! Ysobel: I don’t want to argue to the contrary, but she doesn’t seem to have felt the cruelty very keenly these past nine years.

Then, Jon fell ill in Cornwall and had to be rescued by Matt. In this version it's much more apparent why Matt feels he needs to rush to his aid, and also it's not Christmas yet. Emotionally, I rather liked this version. But what I finally went with brought out better that Matt just can't get down from his stress-level and sense of responsibility. Although he is overreacting in assuming Jon was dying.

Matthew: Shon hashn’’ shen’ a le’’er thish ‘eek. Ah’m shailing ‘o Cor’’all. Alice: Are you sure it’s not just the post being delayed? Matthew: Ah shaid Ah’d come if he shtopped wri’ing. Sho Ah’ll go. Ah can’’ jusht leave Shon ‘o die! No’ af’er Ah kille’ a ma’ for him. Alice: Nobody said he was dying! Wait, you did what!? […]

(Jonathan Brodie to Matthew McCarric, letter delayed in the post) I have a bad cold. Only writing to prevent you from rushing to Cornwall.

Jonathan: Matt! What are you doing here? I wrote to you! Matthew: Musht ha’e mished me. Are y’ ill? Why ish it sho col’ here? Jonathan: To fetch more wood I’d have to get out of bed. And the landlady’s servants are busy elsewhere. Matthew (shouting down staircase): Ah wan’ ‘o shee a fire in the Shottish Shentleman’sh room thish inshtan’! An’ bring shome hot shoup! * * * Matthew: Are y’ be’’er? Jonathan: Yes. Thank you. I’m glad you’re here.

Another reason I changed plans was that I felt a professional failure would be a bit too much misfortune for poor Jon. Actually, the next scene in which we'll see him at work in 1794 makes much more sense if he was successful in Cornwall.

Matthew: Wha’ are we goin’ ‘o do wi’ you? Jonathan: I don’t know any more. I’d really like to go home. Then I could at least read my books and have Sarah look after me. But my apartment is only a few streets away from my parents’ house. Mother would want me to visit. It would only be painful. And dangerous. Matthew: Have you finishe’ your work for ‘he Cornish Shentleman? Jonathan: No. I fell ill. He chose another architect’s plans.

And then there was all this fuss getting him back to Edinburgh where we need him. That's why I finally decided to cut it short, let him return straight away, and jump to the Christmas scenes.

Jonathan: The only idea I had at all was to sell my apartment and buy another somewhere else. Glasgow might work. It’s not too far away and closer to you. I’m certainly cured of the English south. But then – as someone who knows a thing or two about real estate – it would be such a bad deal to trade in Edinburgh for Glasgow just because of a broken heart. Matthew: Jusht co’e home wi’ me. You ca’ shtay i’ the guesht room you deshigned yourshelf. Jonathan: Thank you. But I can’t intrude upon you and Alice when your baby is so ill. But we can travel together and I take a room in Glasgow. At least until Christmas. Mother will invite everyone then and I can’t stay away without giving very good reasons. Matt – you’ll come to all the Christmas gatherings too, won’t you? Then I could at least talk to you the entire time. Matthew: Ah can’’ shtay away fro’ ‘hem either.

Regrettably though, this eliminated the concluding gag for Captain Burton's storyline:

Captain Burton: Good morning! Is Mr McCarric in? Eliza: I’m afraid not. He’s down South to help a relative in need. Captain Burton: Are you kidding me!?

Secret fun fact: I'm really glad it's 1794 now! I'm still not sure if it's a very elaborate joke between us or if we're actually going to do this. But my sister and I started researching for a historical novel to write together, which would be set in 1794 (got to do with the French Revolution, but not with Scotland). I've been confusing the two years all this summer!

[bleue-flora]

Okay I know I said I wasn’t going to talk about discduo anymore, and I meant it. I did. But then I saw the clip of cc!Tommy [post] talking about them and a few people saying how clingy duo didn’t know that they hurt c!Dream, and how c!Dream was just this unreasonable psychopath who drove c!Tommy to want to kill himself… and well I just feel like I can’t stand by while Dream gets slandered after I was being nice to c!Tommy.

So... that brings us here, where to the best of my memory and ability, I’d like to look at c!Tommy as being part of the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum. Because here’s the thing, I’ve seen people refer to him as some golden boy, who’s caring and has a good heart, but I’m gonna just be honest, I just don’t see it. From what I can tell, we accuse c!Dream of having no empathy, but I don’t think I’ve really seen c!Tommy show any.

Now granted, I’m definitely no psychologist or whatever, and in the real world diagnosing these disorders is a very intense and extensive process. Especially because there is no true way to know whether an individual has empathy or not since we can’t exactly read their minds or feelings. So we really only have their behavior to study. Having said all that though, here’s why I actually think c!Tommy is perhaps the “psychopath” or since that term is no longer medically used, has Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) in which psychopathy is sometimes considered a subtype of.

And yes, while I am more than aware that I clearly have dsmp favorites and therefore am biased, I have to say when I was rewatching lore I didn’t expect to come to this conclusion, but something about this scene specifically in the finale bothered me.

[clip] Dream: “Why are you–why are you trying to—ruin everything all the time?” Tommy: “Cuz that was just me having fun with my friends, Dream, but I didn’t–I didn’t…” Dream: “Ah-you just stealing my shit and a—griefing my friends’ houses and breaking shit?” Tommy: “I just didn’t realize how much that hurt you.”

Because c!Tommy essentially just straight up admits to enjoying harming others. In fact, is so clueless he doesn’t grasp that killing and breaking and stealing and griefing hurts people. And like how can you possibly tell me that someone at the age of 18 years old can be so oblivious to other people’s suffering. Because he sure didn’t like it when people griefed or trapped his house, stole from him, and killed him, but somehow didn’t know that other people also didn’t like that. I mean, there’s just no way someone can be that clueless, I don’t care how old they are, even children know better than to just push their friend down the stairs because it’s funny. 

Like I don't think this is just the behavior of some flawed teenager, but of someone with a lack of empathy or ASPD, which the National Library of Medicine says this about, “Antisocial personality disorder is characterized by a pervasive and enduring pattern of disregarding and violating the rights of others, typically emerging in childhood or early adolescence and persisting throughout an individual's life. This disorder significantly impacts interpersonal and occupational functioning, often leading to profound impairments in overall quality of life. Individuals with antisocial personality disorder frequently engage in criminal behavior and struggle to learn from the negative consequences of their actions” [source], And I don’t know about you, but doesn’t that sound like c!Tommy? Even further the Millon Theory has this to say about Antisocial (ADAntis) individuals, “Prone to lessened emotional resonance and a marked lack of empathy, those individuals evidencing ADAntis patterns actively seek out what they feel is their entitlement. ADAntis individuals often feel slighted by their circumstances and believe they must take in order to receive. They are impulsive by nature and uncaring about any damage they may inflict on others or themselves” [source].

In other words, someone who does and takes without thinking of others as if they are entitled to it. A great example of this is c!Tommy just up and killing c!Purpled for no reason and stealing c!Tubbo’s resources before they battle c!Dream again for the discs, where c!Tubbo notes that c!Tommy has a ‘shit moral compass’ [clip]. There is also the stream I love to bring up of c!Tommy stealing from c!Tubbo, killing his bee and then burning his house, and not giving anything but a half assed apology of 'I didn’t mean to burn your house down that much’ and ‘I didn’t mean to kill your bee I was just giving him a high five’ [post] and that’s how he treats his best friend, one he drags into war after war. c!Tommy more than once highlights how pain is real in the dsmp whether a non-canonical death or a punch and yet shows no regard for holding back hurting others, whether that's burning c!Techno [clip] or throwing a harming potion at him when he’s found in the basement [clip], lighting c!Dream on fire with a bucket of lava on the first day of Exile [clip & clip], killing c!Alyssa just cuz she’s there and a woman [clip], stabbing c!Dream as he fills in a creeper hole in c!Tommy's yard no less [clip], how bout just dragging c!Tubbo into wars to risk his life and experience pain over some replaceable discs… etc just as some examples off the top of my head I've have seen recently. 

I mean he doesn’t seem to care about others. When c!Tubbo needs help, where’s c!Tommy, like when he goes after c!Sam after he killed his husband and kidnapped his son he teams up with all the people who have killed him. Where the freak is c!Tommy - the one he fought so many wars with. Heck in the finale, c!Tubbo charges into what might be certain death, even after disagreeing with c!Tommy and reasoning that maybe they shouldn’t kill c!Dream [clip]. Oh and then of course, I've talked about his behavior towards c!Punz in the beginning too, of him helping clingy duo and then c!Tommy plotting to stab him the next minute [post]. 

And he struggles so hard to separate the value of items over the living [clip], seen no clearer than his struggle multiple times with putting the discs over c!Tubbo. And as I talked about when looking at c!Quackity at some point, people without empathy can love but it’s more like loving chocolate where they can enjoy it but there is no consideration for a candy bar’s well-being or feelings - people are more so just there to be used than cared about, and isn’t that what he does with c!Tubbo? With c!Techno? With c!Dream? Using them as a weapon and for their resources and then tossing them aside. Certainly not having their back when they need it, something c!Techno highlights pretty well in his speech about being a person [clip].

Perhaps our biggest clue should be how revolved his character arc is about understanding the value of items and how people are more important, as he finally in the finale gives up his discs for Tubbo’s life…

I don’t know maybe I’m wrong, but all I’m saying is I have yet to see a scene that really shows c!Tommy as caring or empathic, instead I see more so the telltale signs and behavior of someone with Antisocial Personality Disorder… who’s the psychopath now? *mic drop*

[tickle-bugs]

But You Were Mine

Summary: Still hung up on the fit of Bruce’s body against his, Clark attempts the oldest possible ritual: getting to know his pseudo-sweetheart. Too bad Bruce Wayne is the most unknowable man on Earth. Sequel to Chase the Memory of it Still.

Yet again, blame @fickle-tiction for this. Doing a midnight post and run so I don’t have to look at this in the morning lol. Also warning for mild barely even lukewarm makeouts. Probably tamer than Part 1 lol. 

Also also: the beginning scene with Clark and Lois works best if you imagine that Lois doesn’t know that Bruce is Batman but suspects him, all while thinking Clark doesn’t know that Bruce is Batman. So she’s trying to protect him from being lied to and Clark is like ‘but Lois I love him’

“Clark Joseph Kent, you’re a grade-A idiot.” Lois thwaps the back of his head with a rolled-up newspaper. 

“I know,” Clark groans into the surface of Lois’s desk. She thwaps him again. 

“So, let me get this straight.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You somehow conned your way into a fake relationship with Bruce Wayne of all people, and now you have feelings for him?” 

“I’ve always had feelings for him,” He mumbles, suddenly feeling very small in his seat. When he looks up at her, she’s glaring at him. Ah, he’s in trouble. 

“You don’t know him.” She spreads her hands on the surface of her desk, knocking aside a few Daily Planet pens. He picks them up and puts them back. 

“Yes I do.” Clark frowns. 

“He’s an airhead playboy with zero priorities. You deserve someone who’ll be honest—“

“Oh? Like Selina?” 

Lois gets very quiet. Her stare pierces like a fine needle through his throat. A few battered emotions flicker over her face, leaving in their wake a rare and unguarded Lois. Then, quicker than the cat that stole her heart, her face resigns into something sharp and deadly. 

“I’m sorry.” He circles the desk and pulls her into a hug. After a begrudging glare, she tips her head into his chest. They inhale and exhale together—a routine they’ve shared for years. She relaxes into him.

“No, you’re right.” She chuckles. “I fell for a thief. That’s on me.” 

“And I spent the night with the one guy I shouldn’t have. We can’t all be perfect.” Clark elbows her, looking for a smile. Lois’s eyes blow wide and she starts spluttering. 

“You hooked up with him?” She thankfully keeps to a hissing whisper, but he can tell she wants to shout. He contemplates flying around the Earth fast enough to undo the moment, but she’s gripping his shirt tight enough to stop him.

“Well, okay, we kissed a bunch but it didn’t go further—“ 

“Oh god, we’re both hopeless.” She groans into her hands.

“No, not hopeless. We can both have what we want. I’ll call Bruce if, and only if, you call Selina.” He pulls her hands away from her face. She huffs and smiles. 

“This optimism thing is going to bite you in the ass. How do you think you’re gonna maintain a relationship with someone who doesn’t know that you, uh, work two jobs?” She casts a weary glance towards the office door and drops her voice even lower.

“He gets me, Lois.” It’s all he can say. It’s the truth. 

“Alright.” She brushes a thumb over his cheek. “Then get to know him at least. Find out if he’s the kind of guy worth being around.”

“I know he's worth it. That’s not ever in question.” Clark can’t help but smile a little as he thinks of Bruce. “It’s an internal thing. He sees me. I see him. We don’t have to pretend with each other. It’s…just us.”

Her keen eyes scan every inch of his face, even as he trails off.

“You should tell him.” She squeezes his arm. 

“What? No. Absolutely not. I only said that because I know you won’t call her. C’mon, you’re supposed to be the voice of reason here.” He squints at her. She flicks him in the forehead. 

“Okay, well the ‘voice of reason’ thinks you should say something before you lose this…somehow healthy-sounding relationship you have. With Bruce Wayne, of all people,” She mutters that last part, but Clark both hears and ignores it. 

“We’re friends and it’s good. Really good. He trusts me at least a little. I don’t want him to think I have ulterior motives. If I could read him at all, figure out what he wants…but I can’t. I can’t lose him.” 

“This isn’t the healthiest advice, but…start a list. Treat him like a case. What are some things that draw you to him? Things he hides? Things he shows only to you? If it makes you do that dopey giggle thing you do, he’s probably worth it.” She leans against the edge of her desk and crosses her arm. 

“I don’t do a giggle…thing,” he mumbles, but his face is already heating up an incriminating amount. 

“It’s cute. He’ll probably like it.” She tweaks his nose. He swats her hand away, but his spirits are far lighter.  

His phone buzzes and he checks it as discreetly as possible. 

B: Free this afternoon?

Clark smiles. 

C: On my way. :)

“I’ve gotta go.” He stands and shrugs on his suit jacket. 

“Boyfriend awaits?” She wiggles her eyebrows. 

“Bye, Lois.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Tell him I’d love to do an exclusive with him.” She snickers. 

“I’ll tell him that when you call Selina.” He smirks. She gasps her way into laughter, her face blooming pink. Her hand comes up to play with a diamond necklace sitting on her collarbone--a cat-shaped pendant he’s never seen her wear before--and shakes her head fondly. 

“I will after you kiss your playboy. Again.” She raises her eyebrow. Checkmate. 

“Bye, Lois,” He says a little louder. She playfully shoos him from her office. He kisses her cheek.

Clark can only smile when he hears her phone ringing and the faint “Hey, kitty” through the glass. 

….

It’s apt that Gotham is as dark and segmented as its protector, Clark thinks, because he’s never in his life met anyone as fragmented as Bruce Wayne. Everyone in the League is broken in some way, battered by traumas that still threaten to crush them, but Bruce is markedly...different. He covers the cracks in his soul with masks. For every unveiling, six more facades lay below it. 

The reporter in him finds a dark fascination with it. The lost Kryptonian in him finds it…depressing. The human in him is currently bouncing on his heels in the lobby of Wayne Tower until Bruce finally meets him downstairs. 

Bruce glides off of one of the elevators and nods at a few hushed executives who scurry in behind him. He must come off so effortless to them—not a hair out of place, a new suit and coat every day, but Clark can see the exhaustion clouding his eyes. Bruce Wayne is put together. Bruce is tired. 

“You seem eager.” Bruce gives him a practiced small smile as they fall into step. 

“I’m having the slowest of slow days. This was a much needed adventure.” Clark stretches his spine. It gives a loud, much needed crack. He’s just a little too big for his chair at the Planet and it’s starting to take its toll. 

“We’re just walking down the street,” Bruce chuckles. He bumps the doors to the building open and Clark darts out. A light flurry of snow twirls through the air as they start their walk. He catches a snowflake on his tongue before he can think better of it. Bruce’s smile grows a little wider. 

“So? Every trip away from my desk is an adventure. C’mon, I know a spot.” Clark nods to the side and they hang a left, passing under a train overpass. 

“You know a spot in Gotham?” Bruce raises a brow. 

“I get around.” Clark grins. 

………………………………………………………………………………………….

They end up at a patisserie on the East side, a small family-run shop that deserves far more business than it gets. Clark can smell the wonders within from a good mile away.

Months ago, when he was helping Lois write a scathing exposé on Wayne Enterprises, this spot had served him well. Nothing better than a building full of sweets and a decent wifi connection to get you through betraying a good friend. Shredding that article was easily the best decision of Clark’s life, especially since Lois’s pivot towards flaying Lexcorp alive won her an award. 

He buys them both coffee—black for Bruce, vanilla for himself—and sets about the intricate ritual of sweetening his coffee to perfection. This is normalcy. Normalcy is good. 

“This is the only part of Gotham I like.” Clark steals little peeks at Bruce, waiting for him to inevitably make fun of him, but his eyes are elsewhere.

A refrigerated display tower of macarons stands proudly next to the register, boasting all sorts of delicious surprises. The splash of color is welcome among the somewhat dreary day outside. 

“Hm?” Bruce’s gaze struggles to find its way back to Clark. 

“You seem distracted.” Clark pops the stirring straw into his mouth and pulls the remaining coffee out with a little slurp. He pops the lid onto his cup much slower than necessary. The first time you crush a cup of boiling liquid in public tends to change you, after all. He’s grown since then. 

“Heavy work day.” For a man so difficult to read, Bruce has never clearly been more full of shit. He doesn’t even try to look away from the cookie display. 

“Do you…want a macaron?” Clark doesn’t bother trying to stifle his amusement. 

“What? No.” Bruce withdraws slightly. 

“What’s your favorite? My treat.” Clark jerks a thumb towards the display. 

“Money isn’t the problem.” Bruce scoffs, but not unkindly. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. Clark tries to ignore the still-fading lovebite on Bruce’s neck that he left. 

“Then what is?” Clark leans forward on his elbows. Surprise flickers across Bruce’s face for the slightest of moments. 

“…I’ve never had one,” Bruce mumbles, shuffling a bit in his seat. Clark beams. 

“First time for everything. C’mon.” Clark vigorously beckons him over to the line. Bruce trails behind with an endearing awkwardness that he’s learned to identify: slow steps, shifty eyes, and silence. 

Clark takes his time to point out his favorite flavors and make a few recommendations, but he feels like he’s stumbling around in the dark. His sweet tooth is only rivaled by Diana’s—even then, their tastes match so closely that he’s a little lost with someone like Bruce. 

Bruce stares deeply at him. Clark’s rambling stutters to a halt. He pulls on his collar a bit. Adjusts his glasses. 

Bruce’s eyes seem so warm. Must be the light. 

“If today was my last day to live and you had to give me a macaron, what would you choose?” Bruce leans close. His eyes are on the display, thank god, because Clark doesn’t know that he can handle more of that eye contact right about now. 

“It amazes me that you’re so committed to the dark and brooding thing.” Clark rolls his eyes, and after some thought: “Raspberry.” 

“Hm. Okay.” And that’s that. Bruce orders quickly and walks away with his prize, leaving Clark to scramble after him. They sit back down in their quiet little corner, the naturally-frosted window fogging slightly at their presence. 

Bruce opens his box of macarons clinically, like he’s stripping it for parts. He takes one out and admires the color, gives it a little test squish, sniffs it. Clark watches the process with vested interest until Bruce pulls out another box and slides it towards him. 

“What’s this?” Clark pulls the box close. 

“Strawberry Cheesecake macarons. I saw you eyeing them when we came in.” Bruce pokes the box again, sliding them just a little more forward. 

“I’m not subtle, am I?” Clark pushes his glasses up again. He cracks the box open and pops a cookie in his mouth. His eyelids flutter shut and he does a little dance in his chair. 

“It’s one of your more endearing qualities.” Bruce quirks a small, smug smile. 

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Clark fake sniffles. The resulting eyeroll is incredibly satisfying. 

Bruce takes a mouse-like nibble of the macaron, catching maybe an atom of cookie and filling between his teeth. He chews thoughtfully. 

“So? Do we have a winner?” Clark rests his chin on his hand. 

“I think so. You have good taste,” Bruce hums, taking another tentative bite of the macaron. A gentle, genuine smile peaks on his lips like a glimpse of the sun through storm clouds. 

“That’s the second nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Clark swipes a macaron from Bruce’s box fast enough to send a small breeze fluttering between them. 

“And it will never happen again.” Bruce peeks open one eye as he finishes his macaron. 

Okay, bumping shredding that Wayne Enterprises article down to number two. This, Clark thinks, watching Bruce smile to himself, this is easily top of the list. 

1 ) He likes raspberries. 

It takes later in the week until they have a moment to truly spend a bit of time together. Criminal roundups never leave much personal time, and Clark’s hearing has him near-constantly running to save lives. But, on a quiet Wednesday night, he has a moment. 

He loves visiting Wayne Manor. It’s been a while since he last swung by, but he adores the place. He could spend hours swooning over the architecture alone. It’s a beautiful place to disappear for a while, and he’s been doing that more and more lately. 

He gets buzzed into the gates easy enough with a lie about taking the bus, and then he’s standing in the massive foyer and hanging up his coat by the door. The manor smells of old wood and citrus. Clark draws in a big breath of it. 

He turns and jumps a bit when a flock of people are suddenly staring at him atop the stairs. Bruce’s kids, right. He knows Dick, Tim, and Jason. The others are still a bit fuzzy to him. They all leer from the landing like royalty watching a gladiator in the pit. 

“Hey there.” He waves at the smallest and angriest of the bunch. This is Damien, he’s pretty sure.

“So you’re the new guy.” A blonde—Steph, he remembers her from the Christmas card—leans on the railing with her forearms. 

“I wouldn’t mess with him, Steph. He’s tougher than he looks,” Dick murmurs out of the corner of his mouth, trying his best to be subtle. Clark gives him a friendly wave. He returns it. 

“He looks like he wears a pocket protector. I could take him,” Steph whispers to Dick. Clark tries to rein in his expression so he doesn’t give himself away. 

“I’m not sure we’ve met. I’m Clark. You’re all Bruce’s kids, right? It’s nice to meet you.” He tries to make himself look as friendly as possible. He gets a few waves, but mostly owlish stares. He sees where they get it from. 

“Is your father home?” Clark sticks his hands in his pockets and tries to kill the silence. 

“Bruce! Your boyfriend’s here!” Jason bellows. Clark bites his lip to hide his smile. 

“Clark?” Bruce peeks around the corner, then shuffles quickly down the stairs. 

“Hey. I, uh, had a few minutes. Just came by to see you before I went home.” Clark rubs the back of his neck with a smile, trying to kill the flutter in his chest. 

“Bruce, say something,” Tim hisses, crouching behind the banister as if Clark can’t see him. Bruce startles, glares at him, and then gestures for Clark to follow him. As they pass, all of the kids watch him go, whispering in a building flurry that he doesn’t bother dissecting. He tells himself it’s because they deserve their privacy, but really…he’s nervous. Severely. 

“I hope they didn’t make you uncomfortable. They can be a bit…eager.” Bruce’s smile is warm beneath the lights of the old manor. 

“They’re wonderful. Terrifying, but wonderful.” Clark chuckles and bumps their shoulders together while they walk. 

It’s these precious minutes that define their friendship more than anything. Clark tells Bruce all about his day, about his Lex Luthor exposé making the front page, about everything and nothing at all. He talks and Bruce listens, egging him on with gentle tilts of the head when he shyly falls into silence.

By the time they reach the gardens, it’s Clark’s turn to listen. Bruce tells him about the kids, occasionally stopping whenever he notices one lurking. He asks for his opinion on random scenarios. Clark can’t tell if they’re hypotheticals but he answers as truthfully as he can, chasing the little noises of appreciation that Bruce makes as he talks. 

Not only are Bruce’s masks interchangeable, taking him from Bruce to Batman to Bruce Wayne, they’re also removable. Clark doesn’t know when he was bestowed with the honor of being with Just Bruce, but he’s immensely grateful for it.  

“Good evening, Mr. Kent.” Alfred nods respectfully in his direction. “Master Bruce, you have a call from Mr. Fox. Line three, sir.” 

“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce squeezes Clark’s shoulder. “You can wait here, if you’d like.” 

“Am I allowed to touch anything?” Clark teases.

“Anything you want.” Bruce winks at him, completely straight-faced, and disappears into the corridors of the manor. Clark’s face grows embarrassingly hot and he reclines against the lip of the fountain. 

He birdwatches as he waits, counting which of Bruce’s kids make normal, completely non-suspicious trips through his personal space. Dick’s the least sneaky of the bunch, but it lends him a genuine quality. He sits and chats with Clark for a few minutes, asking him about work and the like. He asks about his relationship with Bruce and Clark mumbles something non-committal, cheeks warm. 

Bruce, uh, never put out that statement about them breaking up. Clark thinks he might be alright if it never gets published. 

As the hours draw on, he catalogs where the other Robins like to hide. Tim and Damien have an affinity for hiding in the massive hedges surrounding the gardens, while Steph takes to watching from the windows. Cass is the hardest to spot but he catches her on the roof a few times, perched and enjoying the warm dusk breeze. He sees Jason with her once too.

If he’s learned anything from their father, it’s that staring is caring. Probably.

When Alfred fetches him hours later, he arrives at a scene he wants to burn permanently into his memory. 

Bruce is seated at the beautiful. obnoxiously long table in the dining room. He’s got a knee hiked up on the chair, picking idly at the fabric of his pants. On the table, a black kitten rolls around and bats at a toy. It’s sweet and oddly domestic. 

“Hey.” Bruce doesn’t turn. 

“Hi. Who’s this?” Clark holds a hand out to the kitten and it drops its paw on top of his palm, mewing softly. The squeaky, deflating noise that leaves him is not one he’s proud of. It’s so sweet and small. 

“Nyx. She’s a stray. I give her food when I can.” Bruce scratches her head gently. Nyx purrs and lays down on the table, tucking her head into the attention. She’s a precious baby, is what she is. Clark has half a mind to take her home. 

That is, until Bruce sneezes loud enough to send poor Nyx running. She flings herself off the table and into one of the manor’s seemingly endless corridors. 

“Bless you.” Clark chuckles. Bruce pulls a face. 

“Master Bruce.” Alfred hands him a box of tissues. 

“I can hear you laughing, Alfred,” he sniffles, hair a bit ruffled from the sneeze. Clark purposefully averts his eyes. 

“I would never, sir. Goodnight, Mr. Kent.” Alfred bows his head, sharing that mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Goodnight, Alfred.” Clark grins, settling into the oversized chair beside Bruce. 

2 ) He’s got a cat allergy, but he feeds the strays anyway. Bruce = cat person?

“Stop it.” Hearing the Batman voice and knowing it’s mostly because Bruce is annoyed is truly golden. 

“Stop what?” Clark floats leisurely alongside Bruce, arms behind his head. Keeping pace with him isn’t hard--he’s fast for human standards, but not by Clark’s. He’s made it a habit anyways not to zip too far ahead as they’ve grown closer. It kills the banter. 

“Look, all I’m saying is that if Batman started flying, criminals would absolutely take the week off. If I was a criminal and I thought Batman had suddenly gotten superpowers, I’d simply leave Gotham.” Clark flips upside down and hangs in front of Bruce, still drifting backwards in pace with him. 

He can sense Bruce trying not to smile, but when he opens his mouth to tease, karma speaks instead. Clark smacks his head into the side of a building just as Bruce slips through a narrow space between it and its neighbor. Clark flies up over the building and catches up with Bruce again, scowling. 

“I know you’re laughing.” Clark crosses his arms. 

“Me? Never. Just thinking about how great it is to be grounded.” Bruce allows himself the tiniest of smirks, just enough to be infuriating, and it’s Clark’s turn to roll his eyes. 

3 ) He restrains his emotions. Even the good ones. 

Roaming the Hall of Justice late at night is a cultivated hobby of Clark’s. The best snacks hide in the dark, after all, and he knows that no one’s gonna come bother him about a missing bag of chips at this hour. He needs time to think and food to think with. 

Clark’s feelings for Bruce could both span and fill an ocean. He doesn’t know when this happened. As far as he can remember, there’s always been this beacon of warmth in his chest guiding him to Bruce. Through every late night and early morning, through hopelessness and joy, Bruce is a constant. It’s too much to put on one person. Too risky. 

The ‘l word’ pops into his head like a dark omen, and he skids to a halt. He glances around, listening for any league members skulking around. All he hears is his own thundering heartbeat. 

Fuck. Fuck. 

He makes his way into the kitchen past a snoring Arthur, pausing to snatch the jumbo bag of cheese puffs from his limp grasp. He slips quietly out into the hall, passing by the lounge, where Bruce and Diana are laughing—

Clark backpedals, nearly tripping over his own feet, but god it’s worth it. Bruce is clutching Diana’s shoulder and giggling, stuck in the loop of overwhelming laughter that follows an unyielding barrage of jokes. 

They’re still suited up, probably fresh off a patrol, and Clark wonders how long they’ve been sitting here. A mountain of chocolates, the fancy ones, cover the surface of the table. Diana delicately sorts through and plucks the ones she wants from the pile as Bruce watches. 

“Diana’s the new team comedian. None of you are funny.” Bruce recovers from his laughter, but the smile stays, and Clark makes an active effort to be normal about it. The delirium of another late night in a row must have gotten to him. That’s the only explanation. 

“Barry will be devastated.” Clark chuckles. He leans in the doorframe and catches a cheese puff in his mouth. 

“He will survive.” The sparkle in Diana’s eye has him wishing he had tuned into their conversation. 

“If I had known y’all were partying in here, I would’ve come to hang out.” Clark crunches on another cheese puff, mostly to distract himself from the way Bruce’s eyes are sparkling. He didn’t know they could do that. 

“There’s no reason you can’t party with us now.” Diana gestures to the seat next to Bruce. 

Aw, what the hell? Eating junk food together couldn’t be much worse than doing it alone. 

4 ) Bruce can laugh--he just has to be caught off-guard. He likes to laugh (?) (who doesn’t?)

“When you said you needed help, I thought you meant with translating.” Clark wanders into the room. The concrete is irritatingly cold on his feet. 

Bruce types away wildly at a computer station with too many monitors. A pair of giant goggles on his head pull his hair out of his face. Clark leans over his shoulder to see what he’s doing, but the code flying across the screen is a nightmare. 

At the opposite end of the room, a mechanical rig sits primed on a set of rails. In the center, a gnarly looking gun barrel stares out into an empty expanse. 

“I’m trying to test new ammunition for the Batmobile, but my target system is down. Can’t reboot it.” Bruce clicks something else and the gun starts calibrating. A pathetic clicking sound picks up as targets struggle to ascend from the floor, twitching lifelessly in their compartments. 

“Do you want help?”

“With coding?” Bruce turns with an expression just shy of condescending.

“God no. I am bulletproof, if you remember.” Clark sticks his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. 

“Doesn’t help. I need to study the impacts afterwards.” Bruce gestures to a massive chunk of concrete on a stand nearby. Clark hefts it into his arms with a quiet grunt. 

“Just...keep up with the gun. I prefer my walls without bullet holes.” Bruce quickly turns away from him. Clark can hear his heartbeat pounding. He starts to ask, but the gun rig starts warming up and he sacrifices his curiosity. 

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready.” Clark adjusts his stance to prep for the recoil. The machine whirrs and clicks as it loads itself with rounds. Bruce types in a few things on a nearby control panel and pulls the goggles down over his eyes. 

The gun barrel spins and whines as it gains force. Clark hovers a few inches off the ground and tenses. He lines the concrete up with his chest, his eyes just clearing over top of it. 

The machine fires quicker and lower than he anticipates. 

A sharp zing zips up Clark’s side, then another, then another, and he drops the concrete, instead covering his smile while forcing himself to stay still. That’s certainly not his best idea--no block means no cover, which subsequently means getting pelted with another wave of bullets. 

Clark crumples into a flurry of giggles before he can stop himself. He curls up as much as he can—partly to stop any new onslaughts, mostly to hide his reddening face. He’s been shot more than anything and it’s never bothered him. He didn’t know he could be ticklish to touch, let alone to goddamn bullets. 

“Clark! Are you okay?” Bruce leaps over the gun rig and pulls the safety goggles up onto his head. 

“Y-Yes. I’m fine. Your machine…thing packs a punch.” Clark clears his throat to stop the rogue snickers forming a conga line in his throat. 

“I thought you were supposed to be bulletproof.” Bruce huffs, kicking the pieces of shattered brick out of the way. He swipes at Clark’s torso, probably trying to brush away the dust on him. Clark flinches under the touch and coughs over a laugh. 

“I am. It just…felt…weird.” Clark snatches Bruce’s wrist a little too quickly. Bruce’s brow furrows and he leans close, eyes glued to Clark’s stomach with sheer worry. His face resolves into tense understanding. Clark lets his hand go. 

“What? What?” He tries to catch Bruce’s gaze. There shouldn’t be anything wrong. He feels fine. Nothing pierced. Definitely not bleeding—he learned what that feels like and he hates it. But Bruce has an eye for things that Clark could never dream of noticing, and right now he’s staring like Clark already has a foot in the grave. 

“Can’t believe you fell for that.” Bruce smirks. He pulls Clark close—hello—and kneads unhurried fingers into his stomach. 

No one will ever believe him. Bruce Wayne is tickling him and no one will ever believe him. 

“B-Bruce!” Clark strains out of Bruce’s grip as best as he can, trying not to break any useful bones, but his joints keep turning to jelly. His forehead collides with Bruce’s shoulder and he shimmies rather uselessly. 

“This is very entertaining, in case you were wondering.” Bruce hums and starts pinching up Clark’s sides. His warm breath sends goosebumps flaring over his throat. 

“I wasn’t!” It’s more of a squeak than words. Evil fingers manage to squeeze beneath his arms and Clark jumps directly into the air. 

“Did you just fly away?” A genuine laugh floats out of Bruce, warm and a bit scratchy. Clark wishes he could hear more of that instead of his own dorky laughter ringing in his ears. 

“Not on purpose—shut up!” Clark aims a half-hearted kick at Bruce’s shoulder. His face burns hotter than the sun and he hides in his hands. 

Bruce grabs his ankle and tries to reel him in like a lost balloon. Clark almost falls for it until suddenly calloused hands are scritching along the bottom of his foot. He giggle-snorts. Kryptonite through the chest would be a mercy, at this point. 

A hush falls over the room. Clark dares to peek through his fingers. 

“Oh.” Bruce blinks, then the most wicked grin overtakes his face. “Do that again.” 

“You’re the worst!” Clark pulls his leg towards his body and accidentally takes Bruce with it--who doesn’t seem the least bit bothered, by the way. Every time he lowers his leg, Bruce doesn’t let go. 

“I don’t want to drop you!” Clark shrieks as if a bug is crawling on him, rather than a person. 

“Then don’t.” Bruce squeezes his calf and Clark whines his way into a fit of cackles. His body trembles with the effort to not fly directly through the ceiling. The illusion of escape makes it so much worse, especially with Bruce’s fingers worming behind his knee. 

“You coming down or am I gonna have to call the fire department?” Jesus, Bruce has a real talent for smirking out loud. Clark tries to shake him off without throwing him across the room. Bruce digs his fingers into Clark’s thigh like he’s climbing a tree and the resulting yelp has Clark resolving to flee the country. 

“Y-You’re not building a great case as to why I should!” He flinches after a flurry of giggles and slams his head into the ceiling. Plaster and dust rain down on the two of them. Clark tries to cover the crater he left behind with his hands and a bashful smile. 

“Alright, I’m done. I’d like to keep my ceiling in one piece.” Bruce pulls him down to Earth, only letting go when he’s sure that Clark won’t float away again. 

“Ticklish Superman. Who knew?” Bruce scritches beneath Clark’s chin, just like at the gala all those weeks ago, and Clark shoves his chin down with a snort. 

“No one, and I prefer it that way. Keep it quiet.” He can’t muster any severity in his voice and he’s not sure it would help if he could. The thought of Lois finding out--or worse, Diana--starts an inescapable loop of nervous smiles and a light fluttering in his chest. 

“No promises.” Bruce smirks. “I hear Lois wants an exclusive. Maybe I’ll give her a call.”

“Don’t you dare. Bruce—“

He dials her office line, jogging towards the stairs. Clark shrieks and chases after him. 

5 ) He’s mischievous. Deathly so. 

…

After a long while of staring at his pitiful little list, Clark still finds himself restless. He has naught more than a skeleton, clinging scraps of Bruce’s infinite depths. The paper isn’t suited to contain him. He might actually know less than before.

Even as Bruce beats the shit out of him, he can’t think of anything else. 

“Why don’t you let anyone get to know you?” Clark frowns at Bruce across the sparring mats. Bruce runs and leaps onto his shoulders, executing a flawless scissor grip. Clark raises his hand to support his back and Bruce swats him away. 

“What?” Bruce grunts, bringing his elbows down onto Clark’s head. He barely notices. 

“You’re always so stoic. You never let anyone see you happy.” Clark flips Bruce off his shoulders and down onto his back. He puts his hands on his hips and stares down at him. 

“No, I never let anyone see me vulnerable. There’s a difference.” Bruce wraps his legs around Clark’s and takes him down, quickly rolling atop him. Within a second, Bruce unleashes a flurry of blows that, if Clark could feel more than dull impacts, he probably would fear.  

“You’re allowed to be vulnerable in front of your friends, Bruce. That’s what makes them friends, not coworkers.” Clark catches his fists and holds them. 

“I’ll pass along your suggestion. Are you going to fight back or should I go get Diana?” Bruce raises an eyebrow, breathing hard. Clark flips them both and pins Bruce down. 

“I just think—stop wiggling—we should bond more, y’know? Know thy enemy, and all that.” Clark keeps pressing down until Bruce sighs and goes still in his grip. He knows he’s defeated. Smart man. 

“That tends to apply to actual enemies, not coworkers.” Bruce sighs. 

“Well, we’re more than that, aren’t we?” Clark presses, searching Bruce’s eyes. Bruce nods, looking all for the world like he might bolt from the room. 

“Sooo, what’s your favorite color?” When Bruce is silent, Clark rolls his eyes and sits back. “Mine is yellow. Your turn.”

“…lavender.” Bruce eyes him warily. Clark helps him to his feet and they start the cycle again. The minute they stop fighting each other’s rhythm, they find a flawless sync. 

“Nice! Okay, uh…favorite food?” Clark ducks under Bruce’s left hook and shoves him back. 

“Alfred’s chicken noodle.” Bruce kicks Clark across the face and he lets himself go down. He brushes some of the dust off. 

“That sounds nice.” He grins up at Bruce from the mat. The light haloes behind his head so beautifully. 

“Yeah.” Bruce clears his throat. “And you…?” He pulls Clark to his feet and resets his stance. 

“Can’t go wrong with a slice of fresh apple pie.” Clark sweeps forward with a wink. 

Bruce shakes his head and snickers, then punches Clark hard enough in the ribs to crack his own knuckles. 

…

Two sharp knocks on the doorframe announce Bruce before his voice does. Clark looks up from the dull light of his laptop. 

“Got a second?” Bruce leans in the doorframe, cloaked in slight shadow. He’s dressed comfortably, surprisingly, in a soft t-shirt and sweatpants that hug him well. It makes Clark wanna pull him close. 

“Always, yeah.” Clark sets his computer aside and sits up. Bruce leans against the edge of his desk and fishes something out of his pocket. 

“Found some intel. I could use a fresh set of eyes on it.” The moon casts loving light across his eyes and jaw.

“Of course.” Clark sits up more. 

“Found this nearby. I was hoping you could decipher it.” Bruce hands over a scrap of folded paper. Clark furrows his brow as he takes it, gingerly opening it up. He casts a curious glance at Bruce before he starts to read.

It’s his notes. His notes on Bruce. Shit.

He looks up slowly, horrified. Bruce smirks in full force, oozing mischief that Clark now knows is very much in character. 

“Normally, I’m not a fan of being watched. Try to avoid it as much as I can.” 

“You’re a hard man to read.” Clark clears his throat and folds the paper down to hide its contents further. 

“Yet it seems you’ve cracked the code,” Bruce hums. Clark catches the faint glimmer of that old playboy spark. Bruce’s lips tilt into a devilish smirk. 

“So, I’m right then? It’s important…for the record.” Clark scoots up against the headboard in an attempt to look casual. Bruce sits at the foot of the bed. Voluntarily. Clark stops breathing.

“I would say that parts are accurate.”

“Parts?” He clears his throat. Bruce snatches the paper from his grip. He starts murmuring as he skims the list. 

“Let’s see…I like raspberries but I’m allergic.”

“You’re what?” The color drains from Clark’s face. Bruce shrugs.

“What else? Oh—I’m a dog person. I have a soft spot for cats.”

“Huh.” 

“I am physically capable of laughter.” Bruce rolls his eyes.

“Proved that one already.” Clark smiles. Bruce scowls, then turns back to the paper. Clark remembers, in a terrible flash, the looping doodles of ‘Clark Kent-Wayne’ at the bottom of the page and chokes out a strangled scream. 

He disintegrates the paper with a precise blast of heat vision. He feels a little bad for scorching the wall, but not that bad. The evidence is gone. Plausible deniability. 

“Seriously?” He brushes the ash off his hands. 

“I gotta keep my secrets.” Clark shrugs, but his face is incandescent with heat. 

“What about that paper was so bad that it made Superman blush?” Bruce smirks. 

“There is nothing on God’s green earth that you could do to make me tell you.” Clark grins from atop the high ground. 

Bruce plucks his glasses off of his nose and sets them aside, careful not to touch the lenses. It’s a tender gesture for what is essentially a costume, but something in his heart flutters at the delicate care. 

“Are you sure?” He leans close—close enough for Clark to catch a whiff of cologne and the intoxicating sparkle in his eye, close enough for Clark to lean in on instinct, and close enough for Bruce to wrap his hands around Clark’s waist like he’d been wishing he would since that stupid gala. Clark’s lips part. 

“Okay, there might be a couple thi—“ Clark cuts himself off with a squeal, slamming his head into the headboard—the resulting crack speaks to a later promise of duct tape. As Bruce shoves his hands under his arms, Clark’s laughter bowls him over quicker than he can apologize. 

“You are such a kid!” He throws his head back and cackles, curling into the tightest possible ball that his hulking form could take. Bruce leans over him. 

“You have no grounds to call me that. You’re giggling.” Bruce raises an eyebrow, 

“Because you’re t-tickling—” Clark regretfully finishes his sentence with a snort. Bruce lights up and chases the sound, relentlessly working his fingers into the grooves of his ribs. Clark hits his head again--there goes the rest of the headboard. And part of the wall.

Between the buzz of being touched by Bruce and being unused to this kind of touch, Clark melts into a haphazard pile of Superman with embarrassing speed. Bruce manages to work his fingers up further, right into his top rib, and he punches a hole directly into the nightstand, sending the lamp toppling over. Bruce relents then, passively assessing the damage while Clark drags in a deep breath. 

“You really think it’s a good idea to tickle someone who could throw you into the sun?” Clark huffs, wobbling on a smile. Bruce smirks. 

“Never said it was a good idea. Just an alluring one.” 

“You find me alluring? Scandalous, Mr. Wayne.” Clark offers a teasing grin. Bruce’s brow crinkles with concern. He goes from fiddling with Clark’s waist to fiddling with his hands. 

Bruce gets tactile when he’s stressed. Or when something’s on his mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Clark asks softly. He scoots just a bit closer. 

“The day after the gala, I had Vicki write up a piece about you and I splitting. Like I promised. It was never published.” 

“I noticed,” Clark says carefully, tracking every detail of Bruce’s face. 

“I asked her not to.” 

“Why?”

“I knew if the article went live, you would stop with the affection and the dates. I know it was only for appearances, but…I really enjoyed it. I wasn’t ready to let it go. I…care about you.” Bruce looks up at him, worry entrenched in the dips of his face. It slips to something resigned and neutral, a blank mask. 

Clark smiles like a lunatic, covering his mouth to hide it. He contains the desperate urge to take a lap around the manor. Months, years, of pining bloom into sweet possibility within him. The weight of guilt sloughs off his shoulders. Bruce likes him. 

“Y’know, for the smartest man in Gotham, you miss quite a lot.” Clark leans in and waits. Bruce’s eyes flick to Clark’s lips, and in a Batman-esque flash of motion, he swoops down and kisses him. Their bodies slot together almost magnetically. Clark flips them over and bears back down, swallowing Bruce’s gasp of surprise in his mouth. 

In an insane way, kissing Bruce is like coming home. 

He flings his arms around Clark’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer. Clark immediately, greedily, lets his lips travel along Bruce’s pulse point. He chases the memory of the gala, littering desperate bruises along the cologne-tinged skin. His hand lingers at the base of his throat, brushing reverent fingers as he marks every inch available to him. 

Bruce yelps into a giggle, breaking them apart. Clark blinks, processing, then grins with unbridled power. 

“This feels…counter-productive.” Bruce swallows, bobbing Clark’s hand. His skin is hot and red to the touch. 

“Nice try. You already enabled me—that was your first mistake.” Clark tickles him everywhere he can reach, dodging elbows and headbutts. Bruce cackles from his core, stumbling through a few high-pitched syllables of protest as he twists. He works so hard to force his voice back into its usual octave that it cracks. Clark snickers. 

“I am going to kill you,” Bruce growls, reaching back to return the favor. Clark slams his arm down on the mattress, caressing the back of his hand with immovable fingertips. 

“Then this is a wonderful last night on Earth.” Clark nibbles on his earlobe. Bruce’s giggly scream and the ensuing threats on his life are music to Clark’s ears.

[bengiyo]

23.5 Ep 6 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Ongsa took the big lie too far for me. They all attended Sun’s birthday party, and Sun explicitly asked Earth to attend the party as well. Ongsa failed to tell Sun the truth, let Sun cry, and continued the lie even further. Aylin got picked on again, but Luna has decided she’s not going to let that happen on her watch.

I like Alpha getting Aylin to go talk to Ongsa.

I feel so bad for this poor dog. He is panting in every scene.

The person who posted that Ongsa is losing to herself is so correct.

Episode 6: The Apocalypse

Ah, yes, the boys have also fallen in the makeup wars. I get that beauty product companies help fund our shows, but goddamn.

I respect Mawin for outing himself rather than be misunderstood as straight and interested in the wrong person.

Shout out to my boy Euro for having Mawin check out Tinh when he wasn’t looking.

I don’t mind meddling in this case, because it’s clear Ongsa is too paralyzed to move forward on her own. Still, I feel bad that even more people know before Sun even though I am amused that this sleepover is high-key turning into a double date.

Okay, Luna, that was a really decent opening you created there. I love the way View is playing Aylin’s increasing frustration with Ongsa. That lean over was great.

This bedroom scene is solid emotional work for View and June. I’m starting to see the vision.

 KABE-DON! I WANT TO SEE HER MAD!

Ongsa, let’s take a ride. We need to talk.

Mhmm, and now Sun is finding out on her own.

“’Spies and thieves!’ she spits. ‘Spies and thieves!’”

Ongsa, you can’t run away from this!

Damn, Milk sold that fall.

Je ne sais pas aussi, Sun.

Ongsa, you got your whole family scared and running around in the streets like this. It’s too much!

Thankfully, Sun is bisexual and processing this fairly quickly.

Oh good. We’ve got decent parents and siblings in this one.

Oh, Ongsa. I remember being this young. I do not miss it.

“I’m sorry for being a girl.” Hold on, let me go lay down real quick.

Well well well. The “Let me think about it and get to know you better” era has reached GL.

Journey before destination? I love Sun, too.

Next week looks fun! Thank you for the reassurance.

Lord, Ongsa had me stressed all episode. I don’t ever want to be that young and anxious ever again. I felt so much old closet trauma welling up in me the entire episode. I need to go take a walk!

Doing a soft reset at this point is kind of interesting since we're at the midpoint. I'm curious how the back half will unfold.

[tiny-sassy-aggressive]

I am living blogging my reaction to the second watch through of WDAPTEO 4 bc the first run through was so much

00:00- I screamed when I saw the notif. I was alone in the car. Just pulled up to my apt looked at my phone and screamed “ no way “ I still can’t believe we got it

00:01- hi, they are SO BEAUTIFUL I’m squealing. I cannot stop staring it’s embarassing

00:27 what’s going on here? “Nothing” my heart. The smiles

00:50 oh I am LOVING the feature wall. And fish tank reveal project??

01:00 how dare they throw THAT japhan photo up there like it’s just some example. Who the hell do they think they are- also I want that doomed hoodie :( he is snug as a bug in a rug

01:50 terror not even 2 minute in and crack

02:03 I’m sorry Dan asking Phil about TikTok stuff is precious

02:13(What is cba)

02:39 I CACKLED. Phil’s sarcastic ass omg

02:44 dans little pat

02:58 phivorce

03:05 I know the ft, they are friends of course. But seeing the messages really warms my heart. Like it’s so normal why am I emotional

03:52 of course Phil sends millions of memes

04:10 how in the fuck did Phil catch his phone what??? Ft dans face during the whole interaction.

Ad time —— 04:25. Im sorry Dan looks fucking amazing, his hair is so curled and pretty? And he looks so comfy cozy and soft??? My Dannie side is really coming out rn

04:59 handsome devil, damn straight. Love this man he’s too precious for this world

05:23 🍑

05:55 are the Brits okay??? Bone daddies?? I’m too American for this

06:30 perfectly encapsulated Dan and Phil energy

06:35 Dan saying dude scratches a weird itch in my brain

06:55 again! Totally normal to call a friend in a taxi. But this moment makes them so real in my mind like yes. Call that friend. In that taxi. Make it less awkward. Why did I like this moment so much

07:05 A PRETEND CONVO OF COURSE HE WOULD. He’s so real for that

07:34 “these are very dan and Phil”

07:42 I’m in pain. Koala content and ouch I can’t even put into words

08:44 three days without a text sounds exaggerated. Or lie. Like cmon. All those messages and convos and yall went 3 days without a word?? Sounds fake

08:58 asking what he should do for his nails!!? Again totally normal but UGH I love their friendship

09:01 also Phil coming in with a STELLAR idea, hope to see it happen

09:11 Phil’s a little shit OMG he hated the nails Dan got.

09:38: dans precious little selfies

09:44 also who tf is that that does not look like Dan

09:52 wtf do you mean that they had the same weird Swedish bakery???? 10 years apart???? WHAT THE HELL??????

10:35 fuckin nerds ft cute ft selfie

10:52 Dan in Phil’s glasses hi what the fuck? Precious. Phil loves to take photos of Dan sleeping.

11:02 jump. Scare.

11:28 PHIL CALLED HIS MOM. NURSE LESTER.

12:11 Dan stalking the ring doorbell is not something I expected?

12:20 glad to know Phil and I share that we can’t hear someone saw our name bc it’s too intimate

13:16 ordering a roast dinner is so cute idk why

13:35 jump. Scare.

14:26 I hate them :( i so long for what they have

15:04 they didn’t see death note the musical!! Haters!!!!

15:20 HOT

16:00 Phil papping Dan>>>>>>

16:20 I rewatched this part so many times. Thsi entire sequence. This whole. Dare i say SCENE. Disgustingly familiar. Disgustingly cute. I- karaoke game???? What??? It was for them

17:06 omatone :(

18:22 hot? Worrying? Hmm???

18:45 Phil is so dramatic I love him

19:01 genre to dinner? I don’t get them

19:10 DAAAAAN AHHHHH

19:20 SCRIPTS AH???????3@2/9/@/9@22929 more writer Dan

20:17 this is so familiar

20:50 this has “would you still love me if I was a worm” energy? Can’t explain

22:53 “we dan and phil-ed it” we have to steal that! Asap’

23:24 when Dan sits up he is soooo much taller than Phil but he constantly slumps down and looks up to Phil. It’s very cute to watch.

24:30 oh they are fully embracing the joint channel and slowly moving away from gaming and honestly. I’m alright with it. They look so happy

Guys this was too much. So I just started reading fanfic and these conversations were right out of what I’ve been reading which is very odd tbh? But we were fed. This was amazing content and I can’t wait to see what the writers do with this. Cheers

[sandwitchstories]

Thinking about my beloved Rengoku today and working on one of his fics. Have a litte nibble from my upcoming new multi chapter fic.

Flame And Frost

Setting the scene: Kyojuro and Y/N have been friends since they were 5 years old and have now both become Hashira. Following going to a festival with the other Hashira, the two return to the place they are staying for the evening. Y/N forgot to grab her bag from where she had gotten change. Kyouro, ever the gentleman, loans Y/N his Yukata to sleep in. A silly late night conversation between friends leads the to the two demon slayers confronting years of pining for each other More under the cut! Tell me what you think or if you would like to be tagged when it drops

“Thanks for letting me borrow your Yukata, I really did not want to sleep in Mitsuri’s fancy kimono,” Y/N said with a smile. “I can’t believe I forgot my bag.”

“It is not a bother. You have been borrowing or stealing my clothes almost since we were 5 years old,” he pointed out. He kept to himself how much he liked seeing her in his clothes. 

“I cannot deny this allegation,” Y/N laughed. “I can’t help it, your clothes are comfortable.”

“You look good in them,” he blurted out without thinking. Well, no taking that back.

“I look better out of them,” she teased with a wink.

“Is that so?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“So I am told!”

“By who?” Ah, there it was. That pesky jealousy that had started rearing to life lately. He had wondered if it would make an appearance again this evening.

They were not a couple- not that either of them had ever dated anyone else. What right did he have to this dark jealousy that he felt slithering inside of him when it came to her? 

She whistled and looked away, pretending to play coy. “Oh hey, look-”

“By who?” he asked again, his voice was a little more demanding than he had intended, but dammit he wanted an answer.

“Mitsuri, gosh,” Y/N huffed and rolled her eyes. Her cheeks felt hot as she looked away dramatically and picked up her tea cup to have a sip.

“I would be happy to provide a second opinion.”

“What was that?” Y/N sputtered as she choked on her tea. That was the last thing in the world she would ever have expected to come out of Kyojuro Rengoku’s mouth. “Did I REALLY just hear you say that? Saint Kyojuro?”

“Tell me. What did you hear?” he asked with a cheeky grin, daring her to repeat it.

“Just, never mind!” Y/N waved him off. 

“Chicken,” he teased her.

“I heard... I would  be happy to lirfnviefjvnriudfjb.”

“What was that last part?” Kyojuro asked, struggling to keep a straight face. 

“You said you would be happy to jdksfjbsdfrkiufsdbsi.”

“I apologize, but I was unable to hear you. Could you say that louder?”

“DO I WANT A SECOND OPINION?!” she gasped, covering her mouth as he roared with laughter at getting her to yell that. "Oh my gosh, you asshole!" She covered her face in shame and groaned loudly.

He threw his head back laughing before making eye contact with her again, “Ah, so you’re flustered!”

“I am not!”

“Yes you are. You resorted to insults.”

“You know what…” she wanted him to choke on his words.“What if I had said yes, Kyojuro?”

“What are you talking about?” he wiped his eyes from laughing. Only Y/N could make him laugh until he cried and his sides hurt. 

“What if I had said 'Yes, Kyojuro, I Would LOVE a second opinion!”

“Then I would have happily given it to you,” he smirked at her.

The thought of giving her a second opinion on how she looked naked, which he already knew would be incredible, shot straight to his cock. He was a gentleman in all matter of conduct, always, but he was still a man at the end of the day. A hot blooded man in the prime of his life who had incredible stamina and dreamed about fucking Y/N down into that futon until neither of them could walk…

[solar-halos]

i finished the umbrella academy s4. i am not amused. here are my thoughts (looong post incoming)

1. i don’t remember diego being so fucking annoying. actually that’s a lie he’s always been annoying but since he was hot i let it slide but now that he’s not treating lila right (how do u fumble a baddie THAT HARD) i think he should participate in the shut the fuck up challenge

2. “their uncle will pick them up” HUH? like obviously this timeline is different but you’re telling me lila has uncles (and parents! or someone! she was talking to some elderly couple before the party!). what does that mean for the others… were their mothers still killed in this timeline or did klaus live out his little amish dream, even if he wasn’t around to experience it? ykwim? like did they show up to this timeline and someone was like “omg where did u wander off to? i was looking all over for u!” and then it turns out it’s their sibling/uncle/whatever in that timeline and they just have to be like ah yes. i surely do know who u are

3. what they did to lila and diego was criminal!!! “she said she couldn’t get pregnant while breast feeding. but she could” dramatic ass reveal for no fucking reason. like get over yourself diego

4. ok i know they prob couldn’t get rays actor to come back but what the fuck do u mean he walked out. and how can allison afford that nice house when all she’s doing is being in commercials nobody wants. our girl has a BEAMER. also i thought they weren’t supposed to have phones or anything like that so why does allison have a vape lollll. not complaining bc that scene was funny to me but why and how

5. ughhh they were tryna set up lila and five SO BAD in the beginning. and even then they still gave off intense sibling vibes

6. ok maybe im just too american but the gun imagery was kinda not it for me. like idk i think the bit with santa claus coming out shooting at everything was supposed to be funny but idkk i think im just too sensitive bc i was like mkkk whatever not funny. also i know luther has super strength but even in s1 he still got majorly injured when that chandelier fell on him but now he’s fucking indestructible apparently?? like getting shot at and stuff?? what???

7. ok but that grandma loading her old timey gun while she turned to the siblings like O.O was funny i’ll give them that

8. speaking of guns wtf siblings are killing EVERYONE. like ik they started the apocalypse and everything but idek just the way they did it was so weird. like less detached/guilty and more like… triumphant? satisfied? idk but it had a different tone than even s3, i remember in s2 it was such an intense ordeal when allison made those two european brothers kill each other but this time they straight up mass murdered a bunch of ppl in a small town and were like B). like ok. like allsion mutilated that guy in front of her DAUGHTER and it was just chill. major tonal shift

9. “you just had to one up me” 1) you just killed a bunch of ppl diego!! 2) that is NOT the lila and diego i know. the real lila and diego would have started making out nasty style the moment lila killed that guy w her laser eyes. also wtf were the point of the laser eyes. she used them like twice and then that was it

10. with that being said all that affair stuff and recovery and addiction and relapse was getting so heavy. which ik is the point and the umbrella academy has always been heavy but like holy shit u GOTTA pick a struggle. is lila gonna groom five or is klaus gonna give claire trauma cos u can’t have both

11. speaking of claire… “would it help to remind u that we were just as shitty at her age” no u fucking weren’t. u could have breathed at ur british alien father wrong and he would have made u do drills until u puked. don’t play rn

12. why did they not trust the audience to pick up on the fact ben spiked their drinks. like we did not need a full on FLASHBACK. or like to be fully immersed in that scene, a tiny little flashback would have done

13. ok but why is this season so scary. like that train station made me paranoid

14. i will never forgive them for what they did to my girl lila. she used to serve CUNT

15. that british lady alien annoyed the fuck outta me

16. WHERE was pogo. and grace. they needed to find a way to bring them back. maybe they could have transported to a universe where the apocalypse happened and now the world was getting ruled by a planet of [gunshots]

17. why the fuck was diego acting like jennifer and ben weren’t linked in some way when all of s3 they alluded to the jennifer incident every other scene. i get it was supppsed to be so obvious even to someone who has ONLY watched s4 that jennifer and ben were linked so it was just a case of diego being stupid BUT that doesn’t work when it’s already been established that they all know jennifer played a part in ben’s death. hence calling it the Jennifer Incident

18. “they tried to address that in later scenes” they failed. they didn’t know how ben died, fine. but they knew jennifer had something to do w it. i’m tired of scenes that poke fun at diego for being stupid. he’s not stupid—he’s cocky

19. okay no but this season was SO gory. like. whatever they have guns this is a revolution but the guts? the intestines?? they wanted to be stranger things sooo bad

20. no but we need to talk about that. the monster thingie at the end was so stranger things and the guns and the military and everything it was like we were back in s3 (or whenever we met the russians)

21. LOL but that scene where diego finds out about five and lila was lowkey funny. this season was so meta in general

22. speaking of the holidays… i sure did love watching everyone sing christmas carols and walk around in the snow when it was hot asf in real time

23. i do like how many parallels there were to s1. like w viktor and reggie, it was very viktor and leonard in s1. and klaus getting kidnapped. although i was kinda tired of klaus getting abducted and his siblings not giving a fuck. i thought there was supposed to be growth there

24. okayyy but ben and jennifer were cute SORRY. “let’s get married” that would have worked on me. however being rude to me while i was at work WOULDNT have worked on me so maybe yall are right maybe we didn’t need a love interest this season

25. i did NOT expect them to actually drag out lila and five’s love story. other than the age gap (no matter how ur looking at it) you already knew it was gonna be bad as soon as they had their first kiss. i hate those multiple little open mouthed kisses that are literally just ALL lip and spit like that’s fucking gross if ur gonna stick ur tongue in my mouth u better do it by the third little :O we got going on there. and then five was giving boy. like literal boy. and lila is a literal goddess but a goddess that’s well into her 20s and the contrast was so sharp it rlly was giving mom and her caucasian child. i mean that bit about lila viewing it as survival vs five actually clinging onto it showed their different levels of maturity, but since it’s never specified if five is still a 50 year old man or just aging normally, his reaction rlly was such a teenage boy thing. “i’m gonna kill him” man shut the fuck up

26. ok no bc we need to talk about this. i think fives actor is my age—maybe even a little bit older—but i don’t see how anyone over the age of 18 is supposed to find him attractive. like idk it’s weird in the show but even creepier irl cos lila’s actor had to have known him when he was still a minor. why did anyone at the umbrella academy think we wanted this

27. anyway not to make this about myself but when i was writing the odesta longfic there were a lot of lore inconsistencies as we kept going bc i forgot some of the details and was too lazy to go back and read it sometimes, and i think that’s what happened this season. the most notable detail is when klaus covered his ears while everyone was shooting at each other. i was expecting some sort of vietnam flashback but like no. he was just there being normal about it, all things considered

28. “ex-squeeze me?” it wasn’t funny when klaus said it in s1. and it wasn’t funny here

29. alright i think that’s really all i wanted to say about the season tbh… like idk diego and lila starting a family made sense i guess and i know they were falling out of love (even tho they would never do that…) but i didn’t rlly feel any of the love w the kids. like even when lila stepped off the train at the last min and her daughter was banging at the glass it looked more like she was like “oh no :(“ and then just started poking at the glass. i don’t even think it matters that she didn’t fully know what was going on—if you’re a child and ur mom steps away in an unfamiliar situation, you’re gonna start to freak. especially w everything else that was going on

30. ok this is such a small thing to harp on but they abused the fuck outta that time skip font. like i don’t think they ever used it that much before now

31. now let’s get into the ending. this is how i would fix it:

we can keep jennifer. whatever. that thing they added at the very last second about her having a particle that causes the end of the world was… whatever. like i get it. they needed a way to explain the end of the world and that was the thing they used and even if it was very late to introduce such a (admittedly confusing) bombshell, at least it fits in with what we already know about this universe’s rules. magic and particles and marigold and whatever. jennifer is fine.

tbh when jennifer started feeling sick i was honestly thinking that they were gonna go the surprise pregnancy route even though they weren’t even fuckinf hinting at that i just have no media literacy. i wouldn’t have minded that tbh, like the monster transformation made more sense but imagine if we did a twilight ripoff for a second, except that jennifer and ben were both equally protective of the killer baby growing outside of jennifer’s womb (or in her womb… whatever. point is there’s a baby). i don’t think this is a good idea—if anything i think this is a shit idea. but something that’s always been so prominent in tua are the moral implications of what they’re doing, like with everyone wanting to kill harlan in s3 instead of letting the entire world die, and with everything that happened with viktor in s1. there was the whole “i can’t kill my brother” bit, sure, but everyone kinda didn’t rlly seem too enthusiastic about it.

actually the baby addition is actually a shit idea. i’m just keeping that part of the rant in bc we need SOME sort of moral dilemma that isn’t just viktor arguing w hargreeves and then his siblings dropping in later with opinions that don’t even seem that strong. everyone needs to have a strong opinion on SOME sort of moral issue that we wanna introduce—that, in a perfect world, we’d be building up to throughout the season—and then yeah whatever there can be an epic fight scene

i don’t watch/read a lot of time travel stuff, but from what i gathered, the timeline can never be restored once it’s fucked with. there has to be consequences, like with any story. and tua did address that—they tried restoring the timeline thousands of times—but i think they shot themselves in the foot there. time travel with a (somewhat) happy ending is possible—there just has to be something to lose, and it has to be something that isn’t nonnegotiable. claire was nonnegotiable, which is why i think they stayed in s3’s timeline for as long as they did

point is, i think they should have gone back to 2019. i mean i don’t think anyone really wanted them to die. i made a joke in s3’s rant that i would just give up, but lucky for me, i am not a fictional character in tua, so the fact they just die in the last five mins and we’re supposed to be ok w that makes the last three seasons pointless. like, actually pointless. what was the message here? why is the ending of the show painted as some sort of utopia just bc we got rid of the siblings? and why is five okay with that? i think him being on board w dying could have been an interesting route to take if they showed his relationship w his siblings consistently deteriorating (both on screen AND off screen) but they only rlly managed to do that with diego, and it was for something fucking stupid

ANYWAY. bring those fools back to 2019, but don’t make them totally happy. just give them something that makes them all just stay put, like how allison has claire (doesn’t matter which timeline. it could be from the fucked up timeline. i don’t think the cleanse would happen bc of that bc claire is only one person and not an entire fucking organization like tua or an assassination like jfk. so hell. might as well throw harlan and sissy in there for viktor. that makes lila and diego’s motivation really easy for staying put, cos then they have their kids. klaus is klaus and no offense to him but i think hes just gonna roll w the cards he’s dealt without trying to fight back, for better or for worse. then ben can have jennifer and since they love each other idk they just stick around. then five’s motivation for staying is that his family is alive and none of them want to leave and that’s good enough for him bc that’s why he time traveled in the first place

again… i don’t think what i came up with is any good. i just think it’s better than them all dying at the last fuckin second. i think this show relied on a lot of haha random xd humor at the beginning and they tried to keep that intact here but everything got so serious that i think them all dying rlly did seem like the only way out but.. it’s not. they could go back to the way things are as long as there were consequences. it would suck, and none of them would be as happy as they could be, but they know that’s as happy as they’re gonna get, so whatever. like, if we were gonna take the suicide route, we might as well gone the time loop route and gone back from the very beginning when five blinks back to 2019. i think that rly would have driven home the “this all would have happened anyway” point way better than them just being like guess ill die :) bc ughhh. no they wouldn’t. also they wouldn’t let lila leave bc she still had marigold in her but… what about her and diego’s kids?? they’re half marigold, and claire is a quarter, so… what’s up with that?