#head to head

[rogue-durin-16]

HEAD-TO-HEAD (part XXVI/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst splattered with fluff/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget @ladystardustfromarss @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @sxalbatf @jetjuliette @luvrottt @fromjupitertocentauri @ecompstolemysoul @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bitter-post-millennial @gotxpenny @knight-of-thesun @scottstr3et @aliciax3

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @gotxpenny

Permanent taglist: @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, blood, gore, violence

A/N: GOD WE MADE IT. Okay I hope y'all enjoyed the ride, because GODDAMN IT'S BEEN SIX MONTHS. What are we gonna do now huh? I'm kidding, I see y'all's requests and I'll be working on them. Thank you for sticking around for this long ass fic that took over my Tumblr. Enjoy<3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The wind out on deck had teeth, but I needed the bite. Inside the ocean liner, there wasn't a single noise I could stand anymore; laughter, yelling, crying. I knew it was time to bolt when I saw some of the boys exchanging addresses—one last attempt to postpone losing ourselves to the real world.

I had made up my mind about it long ago. Contact would just make everything worse. What the fuck would I write, anyway? 'Hey, I hope you're good. Everything still hurts.'

I leaned against the railing, one palm braced against cold metal, the other flicking my lighter under the lip of a bent cigarette I'd pull out of a half empty pack on my way out.

Flick. Nothing.

Flick. Nothing.

"Piece of shit." I muttered, shaking it once. I gave it one more try. Still dead. Two set of footsteps walked by and stopped right at the turn. I didn't care, so I didn't look.

"How did you manage to get through the war with that shit lighter?"

My heart just about gave out.

I turned slowly, disbelieving. Y/n's eyes meet mine as she retraced her steps and approached me, mouth curled around the ghost of a tight-lipped smile. It read as a bittersweet greeting, as much as an apology.

"Fuck." I breathed, frozen halfway through the motion. She snatched the cigarette out of my mouth, trapped it between her teeth and lit its end in the blink of an eye. Handed it back and stared at the side, overlooking the fact that she had knocked the air out of my lungs with what had become a mundane motion between us.

Because I couldn't remember the last time we had shared a cigarette, nor the last time I'd seen her smile. I couldn't remember much, I was realizing just now, aside from blood splattered on the hotel's hallway and sheer fear and white-hot rage.

Three Months Earlier

Fist met cheek with a wet crack. Ramirez didn't hold back. None of us were. Not after what this bastard had done.

The private—the fucker who'd pulled the trigger—was sagging in the chair, split lip pouring red, eye already swelling shut. I had a fistful of his greasy hair, yanking his head up harsh enough to tear it every time his head dropped.

"Where's the damn gun?" Bull insisted.

The private didn't answer. He had stopped answering around thirty minutes ago. Maybe he thought he could sit through this, take the beating, walk it out. So I leaned forward for him to hear me loud and clear.

"You're gonna give us that fuckin' gun," I hissed through gritted teeth, voice steady and mean. "Then I'm gonna shoot your brains out with it."

I meant it. Every syllable.

The bloodshot eye he could still open dragged away from me and over my shoulder, widening with sobering recognition.

"Do I ring any bells?" she asked, voice lethal, carrying through the room and straight into the replacement's ears.

My hand kept the iron grip on his locks as I spun to check I hadn't gone insane. Sure enough, there she was, leaning against the far wall of the lounge. Her tank top clung to her like gauze, stained with the dark crust of blood that hadn't quite dried. Barefoot. Pale. Skin slick with sweat or fever—I couldn't tell which.

I couldn't tell much aside from the fact that she shouldn’t be standing.

"You sonofabitch." in the blink of an eye, she was on the move, stalking across the floor like death itself in cotton and blood. The lightbulb made a flash of metal flicker in her hand. A blade.

"Hey—no," I dropped the culprit's head to intercept her halfway. Her body crashed into mine, all heat and tremble, and I took the opportunity to keep the blade at bay by restraining her wrist. It felt wrong how easy that was. "What are you doing?"

Her breath came in short, hard puffs; her glare, glassy and furious, trained on the slumped man behind me as she spat, "I'm gonna bleed him like a pig."

"When you think she can't get more stupid," Martin muttered somewhere in my left, and God was he right.

She was shaking, too light and too hot, holding herself together by the same furious grief that had left my knuckles busted and my sleeves blooded.

"Let me go." She writhed in my grip, trying to push past me. I halfheartedly held firm.

"Not happening."

"Let her try."

"Shut up, Alton." Don jumped in, pushing himself off the chimney's corner. He moved closer, catching Y/n's elbow from behind to gently make her step back. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

Y/n shook him off hard. Too hard. She gasped and staggered, one hand flying to her side as if pressing the dressing would stop the stitches from pulling.

"Shit—" I cursed, catching her again before she toppled over. "Stop. Fuckin' stop, alright? Please." With one arm desperately wrapped around her waist, I walked her back a step. Two. She was burning through the cloth and I couldn't do anything to fix it.

Her forehead hit my shoulder for half a second, like she was just so goddamn tired.

The door flung open with a thud, grabbing our full attention. Speirs' boots stopped right before the beaten up soldier, who was still trying to look smug through a face that was more pulp than person.

"Where's the gun?" Speirs questioned, faux calm reining in his ruthlessness.

The bastard had the nerve to smirk as he threw the same quip that had been earning him the punches. "What gun?"

The back of Speirs' sidearm caught him across the face, splitting the other cheek clean open.

"When you talk to an officer," Speirs' tone lacked patience and dripped with danger. Not a good sign. "you say Sir." He raised the pistol. Pointed it directly at the private's forehead.

Everyone stepped back, almost unnoticeably. We all heard the stories. No one wanted to look. No one but Y/n, whose chin was tilted just enough to watch the scene over my shoulder, her free hand holding onto my jacket for support.

The room held its breath for a second or a minute, before our commanding officer spoke again. "Let the MPs take care of this piece of shit."

On cue, More and Bull got a careless hold on the private by his arms and dragged him out of the room, a chorus of muted grunts echoing behind them.

Talbert, who had trailed into the lounge after Speirs, asked tentative, "Is Grant dead?"

"Kraut surgeon says he's gonna make it." He announced while shoving his sidearm back into his holster. I released a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Y/n straightened up the best she could, her palm rapidly tapping my shoulder. "Joe, let go."

I didn't have time to react before our Captain entered my peripheral vision, his crimson splattered hand wrapping around Y/n's bicep to pull her away from my arms.

"The hell are you doing on your feet, Sergeant?" He inquired, sharp gaze scanning Y/n's covered ribcage. She didn't get to make up an excuse. "First Sergeant Talbert, why isn't Y/l/n in the hospital?"

Talbert hesitated. "Sir, Spina—"

"Spina's a medic, she needs a damn doctor." He peeled her away from me, aiding her with more care than the man would admit to later. "C'mon, we're driving you to the hospital."

Maybe I should've said something. To her, to Speirs, to anyone. Should've gone with her. I just stood and watched them carry her out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I willed my brain snap out of it, shaking my head imperceptibly as if to physically pull me out of the stupor.

"Thought you got shipped to the States." I attempted.

"Got shipped to England." Y/n corrected me. "Got word the Toccoa veterans were leaving, so I hitched a ride." She tucked the lighter into her pocket and leaned back against the railing, her moves obviously slower and more mindful despite her pretending otherwise. "Surprise."

I dragged hard on the cigarette, just to keep my hands busy. "No one said anything."

"Wasn't trying to make a big entrance."

"No shit." I turned back to the dark water, standing shoulder to shoulder with her, the sound of waves against metal echoing below. "Malarkey knows?"

"I'll look for him."

The Statue of Liberty was still a distant speck behind gray clouds.

"We won." she commented matter-of-factly, trying to build a conversation from scratch. As if that had ever worked with us.

Still, I indulged her effort.

"Yeah. We did."

"You hear about Japan?"

"Who didn't?" I flicked the ashes off board. "Whole world's gone to hell and back."

She nodded, foot tapping the planks. "Heard some of the guys stayed back in England."

"Can't blame them." I said, because 'I considered it' would arise questions I didn't want to answer. Not to her, not to anyone.

At the turn of the deck where Y/n had come from, movement caught my eye—someone lingering at a cautious distance, arms crossed, watching the scene. It took me a second to recognize Andrew. He looked different; older, duller. Out of place, just like we'd all be in a couple of hours.

"Where'd he come from?" I asked, nodding toward him, doing my best to keep my tone in check.

"He came to see me at the hospital." She threw a look over her shoulder, not so much to check what was I looking at as it was to make sure he was still there. "Found me pretty quick. Guess being the mail boy has its privileges."

I nodded, exchanging the sight of the man for the horizon's; the faint outline of New York parted the sky from the ocean.

I could've looked for her when we got to England. I should've asked around. Wouldn't have been too hard—tracking down a female paratrooper. Why didn't I?

"Why don't you go in?" I said after a while, mentally drawing a line in the sand. "Let the fellas see that pretty face of yours got the color back."

She shrugged, tugging at a loose thread on her fatigues' sleeve. "I'd rather stay here."

The silence stretched. Only the churn of ocean filled it, that and the creak of footsteps from restless soldiers wandering behind us. I glanced over at her.

"You going back to Norfolk?" I asked.

She breathed out a single laugh, almost amused. "Where else would I go?"

I bit back a reckless offering. 'You could come with me' wasn't something she'd like to hear. It wasn't something I'd like to lay out between us either, bare and desperate like a child begging not to go home yet.

What was home, anyway?

"You going back to San Francisco?" she echoed my question, her observant gaze skimming over me.

"We'll see about that."

Another pause. Another crack in the conversation we couldn't quite patch.

"Luz is asking for everyone's address," I said it like an afterthought, pretending I wasn't desperate to push her away before I spilled unwanted truths all over the outdoor deck. "You should go give him yours before he realizes you're on the ship and chases you for it."

"Maybe I will." She gave a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes. "What's your address, Liebgott?"

I looked down at the cigarette burning between my fingers. Hesitated. "Can't remember." That was a lie, yet it felt cleaner than the truth.

Her face fell when she put together the pieces, reading between lines what I'd already decided. She took a breath. Resignation. "Tell you what," she folded her arms over her chest, the words sticking halfway in her throat. "I think I'm gonna miss you."

A joke, most likely, but it didn't land like one.

"Don’t worry," I ran my free hand through already disheveled locks. "one month with lover boy Andrew and you won't even remember my name."

She stared at me like I had offended her. Maybe I had. Maybe I deserved to see her scoff, turn heel and leave me there.

With a sigh, she reached for my hand. Took it in hers. Pressed something into my palm.

Her lighter.

"Keep it," she said. "Or throw it overboard, I don't care. I hate smoking anyway."

She lingered for a beat, then leaned in and kissed my cheek. Quick. Chaste. Soft enough to fucking kill me. I tried to catch her lips with mine on instinct, but she was already pulling away. Like she knew. Like she had felt me move and decided to purposefully beat me to it.

She squeezed my arm, warm and final, and walked back to her friend without another word.

I stared at the lighter in my hand.

America grew closer, and I felt my heart break.

We'd run out of time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

The noise at the docks was deafening, overwhelming—cheering, crying, shouting names into the chaos. The second our boots hit New York's soil, the world broke open in celebration.

We were being swallowed by the crowds. Men from Easy jostled shoulder to shoulder, some already sprinting toward waiting families, others standing still, lost. Flags waved, hats flew, the scent of salt and steel mixed with perfume from people who hadn't known the inside of a uniform. Someone threw a bouquet. A woman screamed someone's name and collapsed into his arms.

In the middle of it all, I felt a hand close around my bicep, forced gentleness barely masking urgency, and tugged me slightly away from Andrew before anyone could clock it. The ruckus swallowed the movement.

"What's the lighter for?" Joe's clipped question went right into my ear.

Thrown by a question I didn't expect to hear, I turned to face him. We were being pushed and pulled by bodies on all sides, but he kept me tethered. "Smoking, hopefully." I tried. "Don't burn shit up with it. It's got my initials."

He exhaled sharp through his nose, tugging on my arm just enough to pull something else out of me. I didn't have it in me to fight it, so I gave in.

"Don't want you to forget me." I confessed, fear, heartache and embarrassment bubbling to the surface all at once.

His grip tightened, and his voice raised. "Don't need a fucking lighter to remember you."

I opened my mouth, but someone bumped me from behind. I stumbled forward, into him. His hands caught me like it was second nature at this point.

"You don't have to keep it," I insisted, placing a hand on his chest as a leverage to push myself a step back. "I told you to throw it away if you—"

"I'm in love with you."

It hit harder than a gunshot, straight to the chest.

"Head over heels for fuck knows how long," he went on, not looking away from me for a second. "It's fuckin' pathetic. I don't need a lighter to remember that, alright?"

My pulse was too loud in my ears. A lump in my throat blocked any response I would have wanted to give him. Someone shoved through again, knocking him slightly off balance. His hand left my arm for a second.

"Keep it," was the only sentence I managed without having my voice shattering. "Please."

Joe muttered something under his breath—'fuck', maybe—and reached for his dog tags. Before I could ask what he was doing, he slipped the chain over his head, the rusted star of David glinting under the sun, and looped it over my neck instead. They were warm from his skin.

His hand lingered at the base of my nape for a second before he leaned in, kissed my temple, and spoke against my hair, "Take care of yourself."

I grabbed the front of his jacket. My fingers found his collar and brought him into a kiss, quiet, barely there, but enough.

Enough.

He kissed me back.

And then he let go.

I watched him disappear into the crowd, into a hundred people moving in a hundred directions, oblivious to yet another goodbye among all the reunions.

"Y/n! God, I thought I'd lost you. C'mon!"

Andrew's voice called behind me, so I walked back toward him on reflex, leaving my heart somewhere on the dock.

'I'm in love with you'.

Too late for it to matter.

[fromjupitertocentauri]

im totally normal about this series @rogue-durin-16

[dixieandherbabies]

Dixie and her babies.

Carter & I are having a head to head nap!

[suprnovr]

Decided to place all the To Exit is To Exist characters in a massive head to head. Posts don't really get much traction so I doubt l'll get a load of votes on this one butttt...

Wife v wif-HUSBAND. Ehem, husband. The powerful witch Aysa Hemlock vs the immortal drow Lord Lapeytus Sallow. They’re both awful. Enjoy this fact.

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

Just had to get this grin. Robert Carlyle is so handsome.

Ooh his angry face is back.

It just hurts to admit that.

Who do you think?

Angry mixes with heart eyes.

Bitch you KNEW SHE WAS.

Thank you.

[boardchairman-blog]

**Shots of the Episode**

The Gilded Age (2022)

Season 2, Episode 3: “Head to Head” (2023) Director: Michael Engler Cinematographer: Manuel Billeter

[best-fictional-marine-reptile]

Territorial Hammerskull [Magic the Gathering] vs. Rampardos [Pokemon]

[rogue-durin-16]

HEAD-TO-HEAD (epilogue)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget @ladystardustfromarss @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @sxalbatf @jetjuliette @luvrottt @fromjupitertocentauri @ecompstolemysoul @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bitter-post-millennial @gotxpenny @knight-of-thesun @scottstr3et @aliciax3

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @gotxpenny

Permanent taglist: @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language

A/N: okay this is one of the first parts I had outlined for the series. The story was always supposed to end here. Did I get pissed at myself for that? Yes, but it was too late to change it. Did I find a way to fix it? Maybe. Y'all will get a complementary oneshot to HOPEFULLY give this arc some closure. Anyway enjoy this little something and thank you for following along<3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

San Francisco, 1949

The coffee had gone lukewarm, but I kept stirring it anyway—slow circles, spoon clinking against porcelain every few seconds. I wasn't listening to the conversation at the table. Not really. I nodded when I had to, smiled when someone laughed, but my mind was somewhere else. It always was.

Mary from reception was talking about a movie she saw the night before. Something with Lana Turner. Carol chimed in about Turner's hair, unleashing an argument with Louise, and then all three of them—their names blurred—started comparing lipstick shades and movie stars. I didn't even hear my own name when they said it.

I glanced out the café window, resting my chin on my palm, eyes half-lidded from another night of restless sleep. San Francisco looked gray that morning; the fog had yet to lift. Pedestrians passed with their collars up and their heads down. Somewhere down the block, a trolley clanged its bell.

The spoon idly held between my fingers plunged into the coffee when I laid eyes on a figure across the street, leaning against the hood of a yellow cab with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

It couldn't be.

He looked older. His hair a little shorter, face a little harder. Bags under his eyes I didn't remember. But the posture was the same. Kind of. Almost? Maybe. The way he squinted into the street like he was always sizing something up.

It had to be.

For a moment, I just watched him. Like my brain was taking extra time to translate what my eyes were already screaming. He was just standing there, waiting. Probably on a fare. Or a shift change. Or fate.

"Y/n?" Mary's voice broke through the white noise in my head. "You alright?"

I forced myself to peel my eyes away from the window. "No—Yes. I'm just... Uh..." I sneaked another glance at the man across the street, unaware of how hard I was trying to stop my hands from shaking.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Carol joked with a grin.

I swallowed, voice too weak to match her teasing. "You could say that."

They followed my gaze, eyes squinting past the smudged glass to the street beyond.

"Oh my god," Mary abruptly leaned forward, shortening the distance between her and the outside. "Is that Joey? Joey Liebgott? Anna's brother?"

They all leaned in closer, one practically pressing her nose to the window. “Gee, I think it is." Louise breathed out, turning to the girls. "Thought he died in the war?"

I blinked, the assumption taking me aback. "What?"

"I don't know," Mary shrugged, taking her cup to her lips. "That's what Anna told me."

"Maybe she was embarrassed." Louise fixed her round eyes on the unmoving silhouette of Joe. "Y'know how it is with those veterans. Marge's cousin came back completely nuts—Ouch!" The woman bent over herself to rub her shin, realization dawning on her. "Sorry, I meant the men." She tried to fix it, sparing me an apologetic glance.

"Right."

"Y/n," I snapped my head at Carol when she called my name. "I thought you said you didn't know anyone from San Francisco." Her tone was light, yet edged with dangerous curiosity.

"He was in the Airborne, right? Is that where—" Mary scooted closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Is that where you know him from? The war?"

Maybe in any other situation, I'd have thrown a sarcastic quip at the Mary's obvious assumption, but I didn't find it in me to do so when everything was muffled by the thudding of my heart in my ears.

"Yeah." They started whispering to each other, eyes darting between me and the street, already spinning a story out of it. I pushed my chair back, murmured, "Excuse me." and stood up.

"Wait—where are you going?" Carol called after me, but I was already weaving through tables.

The bell over the door jingled as I stepped out into the faint noise of the morning, the air outside hitting cooler than I expected. Lacking my coat, I braced myself, my shoes clicked over the sidewalk and into the crosswalk, dodging a cyclist with an absentminded wave. The light had just changed, cars idling as I crossed. He was thirty feet away. Maybe less.

"Joe!"

His gaze spun on reflex, drawn by his name. God, it was him. Narrowed eyes met my own as I stepped on his side of the street, following my moving form, puzzlement giving way to aching recognition. The cigarette trapped between his lips fell to the pavement when it dawned on him I wasn't a mirage.

What am I doing?

The sudden, panicked second-guessing put a halt on my resolve, leaving me glued on the spot; too far for a regular conversation, too close to pretend this wasn't happening.

A second passed. Two. A minute. I didn't know. He exhaled a deep breath, unable to look away. I considered turning around, pretending it never happened. Blame it on bad eyesight and a restless morning. Walk back into the café, stir cream into my coffee, smile at Carol's joke, and leave it all alone.

But he said, "Long way from Norfolk." and the idea of bolting vanished from my mind. "You visiting someone?" Nervy fingers fished a pack of smokes out of his pocket, and he tried to bring my attention to his voice rather than the clumsiness of his actions.

"I live here now."

He stilled.

"Why?"

"Work." I said, because I couldn't bring myself to explain I had to run in order not to crumble under the weight of the life I was supposed to go back to.

He tapped a cigarette against his palm, wary gaze roaming over me like he didn't quite know who he was looking at. "How long you've been here?"

"Eight months."

He nodded, fixed his eyes on the pavement, looked to the front like there was something worth examining in the café's wall. Placed the cigarette between his lips but didn't light it.

Take a hint.

I checked my wristwatch; desperate attempt at a pretext to turn heel and abandon a reunion that shouldn't have happened in the first place. 20 minutes until my shift started. Lucky.

A half-assed excuse dropped from my lips in the form of mutter before I aimed to retrace my steps. Across the street. Back to the café. Away from him.

"You look pretty."

I nearly tripped.

"What?" I threw him a confused glance over my shoulder, one of my shoes barely touching the ground. Must've heard it wrong.

"You look pretty." He repeated, way too loud and confident for a man who found the pavement beneath his feet more interesting than the person he complimented. "The whole—" he motioned vaguely at me, scrunching his nose like the gesture would help him work out the right words. He gave up before trying.

"You look good, too." Joe scoffed, but didn't argue. The breeze brushed through my blouse, sending a shiver through my spine; a reminder I had to go. "I should uh—"

"Work?" He questioned, his hand hesitating a beat before digging a familiar lighter out of his coat. The engraved initials, peeking between his digits while he lit the smoke he'd been toying with, were worn but still readable.

"Yeah." I cleared my throat, took a step back. "Work."

"Where?"

I frowned at the inquiry. "Where do I work?"

"Shit, yeah." He took a drag, then followed with his eyes the direction I signaled with a tilt of my chin. Joe let out a whistle. "Fancy. You like it there?"

"Sometimes."

This time it was him who checked his watch. "Off at five?"

It was my turn to scoff. "Supposedly. Why?"

A shrug. "Need a ride home?"

Huh.

He met my gaze then, tentativeness coated with a casual tone. I tilted my head to the side, as if reading between lines would be easier from a new angle. Maybe it was.

"Depends on how much you're gonna charge me." Brows raised in his face as if I had implied something outrageous. "What."

He opened his mouth just to close it again. Flicked the ashes off the cigarette. Stole another glance at the building I should have been entering. "I'll be there at five."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

Silence hung above us while we seized each other up, waiting for the other to give in. The seconds ticked away around my wrist, so I did.

"Don't be late."

A goodbye and a promise all at once. My heart pounded warm in my chest as I rushed back to the café, where the girls awaited for me with my coat, my bag and a hundred questions dancing on their faces.

I didn't look back.

I knew he was looking.

[fromjupitertocentauri]

@luvrottt @rogue-durin-16 MY INFLUENCE 🤭

[invisiblegarters]

GMMTV 2025 Line Up Trailer Rating / Reaction Part I

Or at least the ones I see on the main channel because frankly, I am dedicated enough to really go looking. 🤷

Dare You to Death - Oooh a bunch of rich kids being stupid. We love to see it (and i mean that). Oooh I kind of like that Dunk is the one playing the hardass here. I also really like that it seem a little grittier for JoongDunk than I'm used to. Love this new era for them. Watching.

Head 2 Head - ah it's the Only Boo dudes. I really should get on finishing that one. It was a bit too sweetie sweet for me at the time. I think I like their dynamic a little more here. I see that they're covering the Bad Buddy and the 2Gether tropes. The future thing is newish. On the fence.

Burnout Syndrome - THIS THUMBNAIL what. Gun as an escort? Off hiring him to impersonate him? So this was the Nuchy show then huh? I guess we should have known. LETTING GUN KISS SOMEONE ELSE???? WHAT. I mean I'd be in just for that, I won't lie. My problem is that I...don't really like OffGun. I don't know why they just don't hit for me like they do for everyone else. And the two things I was actually really into with them (Not Me and The Trainee) were way less focused on the relationship than other things. But I do love Nuchy...damn. Tentatively watching.

I Love "A Lot of" You - Nanon's return. LOL oh my gosh is he going to try to make this woman fall in love with him as five different people? pffft. I can't. What even. And you know I like Nanon well enough but also not watching.

Whale Store - ah yes, the sweet MilkLove GL we all knew was coming. Not complaining. Ooh and a bitter exes that still love each other side couple. Is Piploy gonna get a taste of being the one pining? Interesting. Look. I'm gonna be honest. I love these two I was gonna watch regardless. So of course, I'm watching.

Only Friends: Dream On - I can't believe I got my OF wish. There are people who can attest to the fact that I said I'd only ever watch a s2 of OF if they made it a new cast (or an ep of Our Skyy where they switched up who played who - like Book playing Boston, Neo playing Ray, etc). I genuinely assumed that when (I did think it was when) we got an OF s2 we'd just get the same cast with a tired cheating plot (my money was on Ray cheating this time) but I'm so happy to be wrong. Ohm and Earth playing brothers is actually great. And here we are with another bitter exes that are still hung up on each other story lol. That seems to be the theme of this show. Genuinely surprised that both OhmLeng and JossGawin are paired up again, that would have been on zero bingo cards (maybe OhmLeng but never JossGawin tbh). The Boston cameo had me cackling. Of course he's present when the chaos really starts chaosing. My little gremlin. Watching.

That Summer - the WinnySatang vehicle huh? They did win me over in We Are. Satang as a prince??? DYING why is that so funny. I mean if anyone can do the spoiled rotten but also sweet - MOND??? HIIIII okay I'm in. And ah, Neo and Mint. People predicted this and they were right. I wonder if he's forever banned from BL now. I mean if he doesn't want to that's fine, too. This is giving Overboard vibes. Except in this case the amnesiac might not be one at all. And thankfully I'm not attached enough to any of the actors to get annoyed when Jojo inevitably plays favorites. Probably watching.

Romance Scammer - Oh hey it's the other Ohm. He's so pretty but also I find him very wooden. I do hope that this partner of his helps. And I have liked the other two since Midnight Museum so. And of course a wild Title appears. We'll see. Depends on what else is on tbh. On the fence.

Melody of Secrets - ForceBook. JAN. BOUN. Okay I liked this anyway because I dig the vibe but that sealed it. Yes I am that easy. Shut up. Watching.

Love you Teacher - I love both Perth and Santa but this does not appear to be for me. Not watching.

Continued in part II because tumblr has a character limit and I don't know how to shut up.

[firsttarotreader]

This video of them! Oof!

Here’s the entire interview, for those who want to read it:

[lifeofloon]

Head to head

[noodles-07]

"it's all in your head" correct! unfortunately I am also in there

[kingcriccket]

you CANNOT read too much old timey fiction because I was playing Raft with the lads this morning and without a THOUGHT said we could sail over to another island "if the wind would consent to blow" & let me tell you. This did not pass by unremarked.