#i know that sounds intense but i think this is what ''i literally died and came back to life'' mania does to a guy

[wqnwoos]

it’s well past two in the morning when all your guests have left, and it’s just you and jeonghan and some cardboard boxes.

the two of you are taping the last of his boxes shut, a movie you’ve seen a million times playing on the television, both of you talking and laughing over it. the party has just died down — yours and jeonghan’s farewell party.

he’d said it sounded too dramatic, when you first brought it up. because neither of you were going far. you to your new studio apartment and jeonghan moving in with seungkwan, now that the lease was up and the owner wasn’t planning to renew it. jeonghan had dubbed it the “house-cooling” party instead, the opposite of housewarming — the kind of stupid joke he only makes to you.

still, though, as you sit among the boxes and leftover pizza, you feel kind of — wistful. when you say as much, jeonghan laughs, reaching over to tap under your chin fondly.

“wistful?” he repeats, smiling.

you huff at him. “i’m going to miss you, that’s what i’m saying, you ass.”

“i’m not going far,” he reminds you. “we’re literally within twenty minutes of each other. fifteen on a good day.”

“still!”

“i’ll visit you all the time. i’ll get tired of seungkwan doing karaoke. and then we’ll basically be roommates again, because he doesn’t stop doing karaoke.”

jeonghan’s tone is light and easy, but you can’t help wondering why the two of you aren’t going to be roommates again. why you hadn’t looked for an apartment together. neither of you had brought it up, things just fell this way, and all of a sudden you’re thinking about how jeonghan always moves your washing to the dryer for you and how much you’re going to miss him.

because you really are — not just because of laundry. you guys were roommates before you became actually close, brought together by mutual friends; you’ve never known a jeonghan that wasn’t jeonghan, my roommate, and suddenly it feels a little like losing him. because suddenly you love him, and not in a jeonghan, my roommate way. not in a jeonghan, my friend way either — in a way that puts aches in your chest, has your ribs living up to their name, acting a cage for your heart. you’re not sure how long it’s been, but it’s been long enough.

you’d been clinging to the hope that it would pass; everyone knows you don’t date your roommate. but now — now he’s not your roommate, and it hasn’t passed, and you don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing anymore.

on one hand: you could tell him. bare it all out, in the open, raw and bloody and unfettered. on the other hand: there are so many things you would rather do than experience rejection. you’d be able to take just being his roommate if you needed to. could’ve held out until it passed.

“maybe we should’ve moved in together again,” you voice, forcing your voice light and airy and casual, playing it like a random off-hand suggestion.

jeonghan’s vehement shake of the head is surprising, and it stings. more than you expected. “no.”

you can quite literally feel your face fall, staring at him without pretence. “what?”

he looks up from the box he’s packing, an uncharacteristic seriousness in his brown eyes. “ask me why,” he instructs softly.

you swallow thickly. it’s hard not to, when he’s looking at you like that — warm and familiar and intense and scary, all at once. your eyes follow the strand of dark hair that falls over his forehead, suddenly realising just how close he is. “why?”

jeonghan sets down the tape, tilting his head to the side, choosing his words slowly, carefully. “because if i ever ask you to move in with me again, it’ll be very different to this. can you pass me the scissors?”

you barely even hear the last part. “different? different how?”

“just… different.” he shrugs, reaching over you for the scissors himself. “you’ll be dating me, for one thing.”

time seems to come to a halt when he says those words, and you barely manage a whisper — “what?”

jeonghan rolls his eyes and pokes your forehead. “i’m trying to say i’m in love with you, dipshit. can you please take a hint?”

you malfunction. it’s late and your brain is already fried enough from finals and he’s staring at you, and this isn’t a dream, this is real.

and so you launch your roll of tape in his direction.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?”

jeonghan doesn’t even need to dodge the tape, but still gapes at you. “what?”

“you can’t— just drop a love confession like a — like a hot potato, and then expect me to catch it!”

“a hot potato?” he repeats, and then he’s biting down on a laugh, shoulders shaking. “did you just call my love confession a fucking hot potato?”

“no! yes, well — ” you flounder, confused in your embarrassment. “oh my god. you’re so mean. i wasn’t ready.”

jeonghan’s still laughing. “if i’d warned you in advance, what would you have answered?”

and now it’s your turn to stare him down: “you didn’t ask anything yet. what am i supposed to answer?”

that only tilts jeonghan’s smile further upward, and he scoots closer, leaning on one arm. you can smell him, soft and fresh and so incredibly near, as he speaks — “you’re smart. i think you can work it out.”

you kiss him first. quick and sweet, over and over. you think it’s probably answer enough.

also in my head this is the same couple from this drabble but they can be read separately

an / hana comeback era ⁉️ this is just something i wrote super quick but HIII it’s been almost 2 months since i posted some writing 😭 i’m so sorry this awful piece is the first thing u guys get, hopefully will write something better soon!

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura @dokyeomkyeom

[lollytea]

Huntlow situationship gives me such intense brain termites you don't get it

[irndad]

Hi, I’m so sorry, I searched for request guidelines and must be missing them so if this isn’t something you write I apologize-

Flower prompt heliotrope with Spencer where reader sacrifices herself/or gets shot to save Maeve so Spencer can be happy, even though she’s hopelessly in love with him. 🥹

Little angst, little fluff. You can decide if reader fully sacrifices or just gets really badly hurt and how Spencer reacts.

my dear!! there are no rules yet- i have things i won't fill but thus far the onus has been on me to clarify. i had so much fun writing this- thank you for requesting it!!! requests r open :^) wc: 1.1k

“Is Maeve okay?”

It’s the first thing she says when she wakes up from her hospital bed. Spencer’s shaking, a little woozy too. It turns out that they have the same blood type, and she lost a whole fucking lot of it. He’d been happy to give it to her, although ‘happy’feels like the wrong word to use in this situation. 

She had internal bleeding, and collapsed harshly from the gunshot, scuffing her forehead so badly she needed stitches. Comparatively, it’s the least of her worries, but still- Spencer can’t stop staring at it. She’s literally marred by the choice she made to protect him. 

Maeve is okay. She’s in the same hospital, but Spencer’s spent about ten minutes with her- the rest of the last 12 hours of his life were spent oscillating between donating blood and praying to a deity he’s not sure exists. 

She’d survived. They’d both survived. He should feel relieved- why doesn’t he feel relieved?

It’s a stupid question that he keeps asking himself. Two of the most important people in his life are alive, but still in the moment, her blood spilling over him- the gasp of her breath when the bullet hit her- He’s going to remember the sound of it forever, what it sounded like for her to almost die for someone else. He hates that she’s the type of person to do it. To jump in front of a loaded gun for a woman she’s never met before. 

He’s mad at her. He has no right to be- he gets a chance with Maeve now, and that’s all due to the choice she made. And yet- he’s so, so angry at her. Because she could be dead right now. He could never, ever talk to her again. She made a choice that meant that he might have never been able to hear her voice, do a magic trick for her, ever, ever be near her again. How the fuck could she do that to him?

“Yes,” he replies, “she’s okay.”

She nods agreeably, before wincing at what appeared to be an intense ache at her temples. 

“My head hurts,” she says, her voice low and endearing, and his heart roars with protectiveness. “Do you think I could have a juice box?”

She’s so sweet- he wants to laugh, in a sad desperate kind of way. This is his favorite person in the world, sitting up shakily and asking for juice, clearly groggy and so endearing. He almost lost her. 

“You’re okay too,” he says, “If you’re wondering. You scared us. You had internal bleeding and a concussion. You lost a lot of blood.”

It’s only then she frowns. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she pouts, trying to sit up and speak to him. “But it all worked out, Spence. She’s okay.”

“It didn’t all work out!” Her eyes widen at his outburst, and he feels like scum. Yelling at her when she’s in a hospital bed, taking a bullet so he’d have a chance at romance. 

“You said she’s okay,” she says back, slowly. “I don’t understand.”

“You lost blood. You almost died. That is not it working out. You have to tell me you understand that.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so harsh, but he also doesn’t know why he has to explain this to her. 

“I know,” she sighs, “I know. But this is the job, and I didn’t have time to get a vest on!”

“Then you wait. You wait. You don’t just burst in-“

“And you would’ve lost the love of your life!”

“What makes you think she’s the love of my life?”

A nurse shuffles by the room and Spencer takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be kicked out of her room, and on some level he knows how crazy it is to be yelling at a gunshot victim. He pinches his nose, eyes winced in frustration. 

She’s been his favorite person by a wide margin for an incredibly long time. She joined the team as a consultant and he remembers the first time he did a card trick for her- the first time he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder. He was so grateful to know her. Still is. In this moment, knowing feels like time slipping out from an hourglass- like it was almost numbered. Their time was almost finished. 

Maeve was lovely. Maeve listened and she was kind and Spencer really did like her. He’s glad she’s safe, now. But his best friend, his coworker and favorite person- Spencer thought everyone could tell that he’s been in love with the team consultant since the first week he knew her. 

Everything he liked about Maeve reminded him of her. 

And she’d jumped in front of a bullet for someone she thought he was in love with. And fuck, maybe he did love her in some way- but whatever ‘in love’ meant with Maeve, this sorrow, the pain of knowing she’d almost been someone he’d have to remember was far, far deeper. 

“You’ve never mentioned anyone to me romantically. I’ve known you for years, Spencer. She’s important to you.”

Maeve is. She was. It’s all so confusing now. He has liked someone for years, though. He couldn’t tell her, though. Maeve was a welcome distraction from a love he thought was wholly impractical and impossible to love him back— a love that now he has to witness languish in a hospital bed. 

Morgan knew. Morgan would tease him every time Spencer drew a smiley face in purple marker on her coffee cup. He would tell him to just ask her out, and it had always felt so improbable. She’d never go for someone as lanky and uncharismatic as him. 

“You’re important to me.” 

She has no idea how much. 

Her eyes soften at that, and not for the first time, he wants to curl into her arms. He wants to lay next to her in the hospital bed, and feel her pulse beat against bare skin. Feel her pulse and with every beat know that she is alive. 

“I know that, Spence,” she breathes out.

Even though it’s not kosher, not necessarily the right thing to do when your not-girlfriend/girl you went on one date with is in the same hospital, but when his best friend opens up her arms for a hug, he ends up doing exactly what he wanted. 

The team finds her asleep in her hospital bed, with Spencer asleep in her arms. It feels voyeuristic to look at, but Spencer really, really couldn’t care. 

He resolved to tell her that he loves her as soon as she’s healed. With the way Morgan side eyes him every time he ‘helps’ her walk across a room by holding her waist, he’s not sure he’ll last that long. 

[genshin-obsessed]

May I request HSR boys receiving a bouquet of flowers as a gift from their s/o?

✩ Ooh yesss! This sounds so cute plus I need to do some writing for hsr ^w^ I hope you like it, friend <3 ✩ Characters: Caelus, Dan Heng, Welt, Sampo, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luocha, and Blade.

You hid the bouquet of flowers behind your back and knocked on your boyfriend's dor. You heard a voice tell you to come in, which made you open the door and walk inside.

"Oh, (y/n)." He said with surprise, "what do you need?"

"I brought you something!" You said with a smile, walking over to him and revealing the bouquet of flowers. They were arranged beautifully and the sweet aroma was intense.

✩⭒ Caelus ⭒✩

You got him flowers?! For real?! He is melting, bestie.

Honestly, his eyes are wide and his cheeks are bright red.

"They're beautiful, (n/n)." He said as he took the bouquet from you, his fingers brushing against yours as he brought the bouquet to his nose and smelled them. "Oh, they smell so good."

Caelus has *never* gotten flowers before, not that he could even remember but he's sure he hasn't. He doesn't even know what to say except 'thank you'.

It makes him feel so good. Every single time he sees the flowers in their cute little vase, his heart pounds in his chest and he just gets this overwhelming feeling of happiness.

Caelus takes such good care of the flowers. The saddest part was when they wilted, like he literally was so sad all day.

You bought him another bouquet very soon after.

✩⭒ Dan Heng ⭒✩

His eyes widen and he just freezes. The flowers were bright green and they were just so... beautiful.

"F-for me...? Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! Why wouldn't I be?" You asked with a smile.

"Well..." He'd never gotten flowers before. He slowly reached out and took them, inhaling the sweet scent before hugging them a little. "They're beautiful, thank you."

Dan Heng takes really good care of them. He'll make sure to get a little sun lamp thing since there's no sun on the train. He also keeps them in his sights and waters them every single day.

He'll even talk to them, but he'll never tell you that.

Honestly, even after the flowers wilt and are gone, he still thinks about them. He'd never gotten flowers before. Of course, you picked up on it and bought him some more!

✩⭒ Welt ⭒✩

He was shocked when he saw the flowers. Honestly, Welt was a little embarrassed because he should've been getting you flowers, not the other way around.

He gracefully takes the flowers, leaning down and giving you a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, my love. They're absolutely beautiful."

Welt finds the most beautiful vase for them and makes sure they're well taken care of. He even gets those little powder packets that help flower longevity and changes the water often.

When he gets a chance, he actually get you a bouquet of flowers too. He tries to get one that matches his- not exactly, but complimentary.

Honestly, it just turns into a bouquet war. You two try to one up each other giving each other even fancier bouquets.

The entire astral express just swoons. You two are so freaking cute sometimes.

Welt was actually really sad when that first bouquet wilted and had to be tossed out. He felt like a teeny piece of him died.

✩⭒ Sampo ⭒✩

First of all, Sampo was super shocked because he's usually the one showering you in gifts. Like he froze up.

His brain short-circuited right then and there. You almost thought he disliked your gift, but before you knew it, he snatched the flowers out of your hand and hugged them.

"This is the most beautiful gift ever! I love them, thank you so much (n/n)!" He leaned in and kissed you without missing a beat.

You stiffened but happily returned it, feeling relief that he actually liked the flowers.

Honestly, Sampo stares at them all day and tells every person he knows. He took pictures with them and just shows them off. "My s/o got me these, aren't they beautiful."

Sampo has to outdo you. Sorry, but he's the simp- not you. So, he buys the best, the biggest, the most fabulous bouquet of flowers in the entirety of... well his abilities.

Of course, you just bought him another bouquet which honestly just took him out. Like how can you spoil him like that?

✩⭒ Gepard ⭒✩

"F-for me? Why?" Gepard's face is bright red and he can barely look at you for a moment. No one's every gotten him flowers before.

Honestly, he's a little embarrassed but he's quite happy and the flowers are absolutely beautiful.

"Are you sure you like them? They're a little-"

"No! They're beautiful."

He takes extremely good care of them, but the entire time, he's trying to get a fancy bouquet for you too.

He tells anyone and everyone. Honestly, there are silvermane guards talking about "did you see the bouquet of flowers our captain got from his partner?"

He went through the 5 stages of grief when the flowers died. Buried them and all, honestly.

✩⭒ Jing Yuan ⭒✩

You had gotten him the fanciest bouquet you could. It was so big that you could barely hide it behind your back. So, of course, he easily noticed.

It was probably one of the few times you've seen him so flustered. Flowers? For him? Really?

Jing Yuan had them in his office and stared at them pretty much all day. Anyone who even looked toward them, he was explaining how you got them for him.

Of course, Jing Yuan can't take this gift laying down, he's gotta hit back with something even fancier!

However, you getting him flowers means the world to him. Why? No one's ever done it before. He's one of the seven Arbiter-Generals and so people don't get him flowers. They get him expensive gifts like relics, vases, paintings- things like that. Simple flowers, though? Never.

He cherishes the flowers you got them, long after they wilt and are thrown away. He still remembers what they look like and it still warms his heart.

Say what you will, but nothing you ever give him could possibly outdo the flowers. That's how much he loves them. No offense-

✩⭒ Luocha ⭒✩

This man- he's tearing up in private. Sadly, men aren't gifted flowers because they're a "feminine" gift for some damn reason? Like? Maybe he wanted some flowers. Tulips, roses, freakin chrysanthemums- don't matter.

He adores the flowers. Honestly, like he took a picture and put it in his favorites. He wasn't even embarrassed. You weren't sure if he'd like them, but he showed them off so much.

Since that day, you bought him a flower as much as you could. Not a whole bouquet, but every few days, you'd gift Luocha a flower.

He often kept it on his person, like in his pocket or something. He did want to put it in a vase, but the thing is... he wanted it with him.

Anyway, he came up with good solution. The first day, he carries the flower with him. Then, he keeps it in a teeny single flower vase.

Ever since that day, if you ever ask Luocha what he wants as a gift (just to know what to get him), he'll always say flowers. Even though you get him flowers every few days, he still wants more.

At this point, you can just stick a flower in his hair and he'll melt.

✩⭒ Blade ⭒✩

Blade... likes them.

He's a man of few words, so all he really did was take the flowers and smell them. But he stared for a few moments, before the tiniest hint of a smile crossed his face.

"Thank you. They're beautiful." He leaned in and gave you a kiss on the cheek before going to find a vase to put them in.

Blade is not shy about telling the others who gave him those flowers. They're beautiful, you gave them to him, and he loves them.

Blade actually learned about the flowers you got him; they were hibiscus flowers. Honestly, they're so beautiful, he can't stop staring. He keeps equating them to you- like... flowers = his (y/n).

The way his heart fluttered when you gave him those flowers makes him wonder if you'll feel the same way. So, the next time, he buys you a bouquet.

Then it just turns into a bouquet gifting war between you two and honestly... it's the cutest ever.

[yeoosaangg]

Tap Out || Kinktober - Day 11

pairing ▸ yang jeongin × f!reader

now playing ▸ tap out - daniel di angelo

⤷ ❝girl, i'm gonna beat that pussy 'til you blackout.❞

genre ▸ college au, brother's best friend, smut

warnings ▸ sensory deprivation, degradation, tongue fucking, nipple play, multiple orgasms, choking, overstimulation, breeding kink

--------

You whine as the rope tightens around your wrists. You were currently bound to a table in your brother's best friend's apartment.

Well, more accurately, bound to his kitchen table.

It started as a joke.

You never expected him to reciprocate your little crush.

Jeongin: Look at you. So helpless with that gag in your mouth.

You initiated the flirting once again when he offered to help you study for your final exams.

Your hands grazed his, leg pressed against him, even hands gently gripping his thighs.

You never expected him to grab you by the neck and kiss you so dominantly and literally take your breath away.

He shoved his hand down your pants and started to play with your pussy until you creamed all over his fingers.

Then he picked you up and placed you on the table, stripping you of your clothes. He asked you if you're open to anything, and you nodded.

Big mistake.

He came back from his room with a box - a wicked smile on his face.

Jeongin: Lay on your back.

You comply, rubbing your thighs together to get some sort of friction. That proved to be useless when he spread your legs open and tied your feet to the legs of the table.

Which brings you to now, gag in your mouth, clips clamping down on your nipples, a blindfold in his hands.

Jeongin: Think you can just flirt with me, get me hard, and get away with it? What would Hyunjin think about his little sister pining after me like a bitch in heat, hm?

You whine again, wanting him to touch you already. You need him to touch you or else you'll go insane.

And for a second, his eyes turn soft as he looks up and down your body.

Jeongin: Think you'll be okay without being able to see?

You nod. He smiles and wraps the blindfold gently around you eyes.

Jeongin: Will it be too much if I take away your hearing? We don't have to do that if it sounds uncomfortable.

You hum, the gag making it difficult for you to speak. You nod, hoping he understands what you mean by the gesture.

Jeongin: You're okay with it, or uncomfortable?

You hold up one finger and he chuckles.

Jeongin: Alright, doll. After I put these in, I'll take good care of you. Snap your fingers twice to let me know if you need me to stop. If you can't snap, pull at the rope twice.

You nod again, feeling him place the earplugs in. You gasp at his small touch. Now that you can't hear, your touch senses have heightened times ten.

You twitch when his hot tongue laps over your folds. You can feel him chuckle against your clit.

Jeongin draws fast circles, sucking harshly to get you to attempt to scream. He shoves his tongue into your dripping cunt, loving the way you squirm under him.

It feels so intense, a knot already forming in your lower stomach. You whimper and moan, struggling against your restraints.

He smirks, tongue flicking your clit as he shoves two fingers into your gummy walls. The gag does nothing to muffle your screams as you cream all over his face and fingers.

Jeongin: So pretty and delicious. Too bad you can't hear me. Oh well!

He tugs at the nipple clips, marveling at the way your body shudders. His hands roam your body, hickeys being decorated all over your neck and chest.

Jeongin: Should've fucked you the first time you flirted with me. I probably would've turned you into my pliant little whore by now.

He pulls the clips off, eliciting a scream from you. His mouth wraps around your nipples so forcefully, his hands squeezing them.

Jeongin: Can't believe he wanted me to stay away from you. Is it so wrong to have you when you were the one following me around like a lovesick puppy?

He knows you can't hear him; that why he's being so vocal. He could say whatever the fuck he wants and you'll never know what it is.

You moan at the painful bite he gives your breasts.

Jeongin: Fuck what Hyunjin thinks. You're mine now. He'll have to accept the fact that you're not a little girl anymore. You're only a year younger than me, fucker acts like I'm 80.

He snakes an arm around you, hand smacking down on one of your ass cheeks. He laughs at your cry, moaning at the sight of your already spent face.

Jeongin: Aww, poor baby. I haven't even fucked you yet.

He lightly drums his fingers on your abdomen before discarding his own clothes. He pumps his leaking cock, climbing onto the table.

He positions himself in front of you, cock sliding in at once. You scream once he bottoms out, staying still at your heavy breathing.

His mouth attaches to your nipples again, thrusting at a brutal pace. The sounds you're making only feeding his ego.

Jeongin: You're doing so well, my pet. Taking my fucking cock like the good bitch you are. I'm going to break you, forge you into my perfect fuckdoll.

You're crying in pleasure, loving the way his cock stretches your tight cunt. You've been wanting him for months.

He knows, without a doubt, that you're going to be his for the rest of your life.

Jeongin: God, you're so good for me. My little cockslut.

You scream, feeling another orgasm building. He grabs your waist and uses you however he likes. The way his tip hits your cervix has you seeing stars.

He feels you squirt all over him, making such a hot and sticky mess. He fucking loves it.

Jeongin: Be a good girl and take my fucking cock. I'm gonna breed you so the whole world knows you're mine. I bet if you could hear me, you'd be begging for me to fill your cunt with my cum.

He uses his thumb to rub your clit, but you're already so exhausted. You lay still, choking on air as he coats your gummy walls with his cum.

You thought that was the end of it, but he continues to abuse your hole. His hips snapping against your ass, loving how he's reduced you to nothing but his personal fucktoy.

Just like how he wanted.

Jeongin: Such a pretty little thing, letting me use you like you mean nothing to me. Letting me ruin any innocence you had left.

He wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing lightly. This was mostly to ground him in the moment. He doesn't want to get too pussy drunk at the thought of corrupting you.

Jeongin: You don't know this, but I've been wanting to fuck you ever since Hyunjin first introduced us. He told me not to even think about it, that asshole.

He growls, kissing your mouth hungrily and biting your lips.

Jeongin: Why has he deprived me of your body, hm? Is it because he knows just how much of an asshole I am? How many girls I've fucked and dropped the next night?

You whimper, feeling so tired but so good.

Everything feels fuzzy, another knot of pressure building inside of you.

Jeongin: Too bad for him because it's not like that with you, sweetheart. You look gorgeous when you're at my mercy. Why would I jeopardize that for some other bitch that can't even suck my cock properly?

His thrusts become sloppy, once again cumming inside your numb pussy. You probably came too, but you couldn't tell anymore.

Everything seemed to feel like a dream.

Jeongin pulls his cock out, watching both of your fluids leak from your cunt, dripping down to your ass and onto the table.

He hums, grabbing a towel and cleaning both of you up. The fabric making you twitch, not used to how powerful the overstimulation can feel this way.

He undoes the ropes, pulling off your blindfold. He smiles down at you, giving you warm kisses as he takes out the earplugs.

Jeongin: You okay, beautiful?

You just stare at him, mind completely blank. He carefully wraps his arms around you and carries you to his bathroom.

You blink slowly, feeling like the world was spinning.

He picks you up, getting into the tub and sitting you on his lap. He massages your body, kissing your wrists when you hiss in pain.

Jeongin: I'm sorry, baby. I'll patch these up for you. The pain will go away soon.

You just lean back against his chest, enjoying his soft and intimate touches.

Jeongin: We'll just sit here for a bit, okay? The warm water will help soothe your muscles.

That was totally fine by you.

But you two forgot about one thing: your brother has your location on at all times.

---

a/n: well... this is definitely a look into my fucked up mind, but this ain't shit compared to the vile things i've written before... thanks for reading ‹𝟹

[sssilverstoned]

while you can still smell them ꩜ ln4

type: full length fic

word count: 3.9k

title from: i wish you roses by kali uchis

warnings: some fluff, angst, but like it's a happy ending. cursing bc i'm me, italics are memories

lily said: you know me i can never leave well enough alone. i thought this little snapshot of the break that was never really a break would be cute! for context, i'd suggest looking at the ig au linked below! this would be taking place in between part 2 and 3.

part 1

part 2

part 3

masterlist

You've only seen Lando cry on occasions that called for it. When family members died, when racing got too much for his mental, in some awful, awful moments. Maybe that's why it hurts so bad to see him cry now.

"A break feels a lot like you should add 'up' to that statement," he had said, turning away from you, looking out at the stars. You were sat on his balcony, feeling suffocated by the apartment. But the AC was on and working fine, and windows were open. Your emotions were suffocating you, that was more fitting.

"We can't keep on like this, Lan," you say in a broken voice, the lump in your throat thick and threatening. "It's not fair to either of us."

He doesn't realize he's crying until the drop hits his nose, making it quirk up in surprise. He swipes at his face, a pawlike move to get rid of the teardrops.

"Do you not love me anymore?"

His question makes you sob. Full body, head dropping to chest, your hands writing in your lap. The sound of you breaking down turns him back to you, rushing to the chair you've melted into. He lifts your face in his hands, and you take a breath when you see his face, discolored with tears.

"I'll always love you," he makes out of your words, just barely. "I, I just, it's not the same,"

"We can fix this, us. We can work on it together," Lando's brain is whirring at hyper speed, damage controlling the last 8 months of your lives together.

The cracks began to become schisms when he committed your largest pet peeve, which was ignoring things out of ease. Blissful ignorance, if you will.

It was small things, like forgetting about date nights in lieu of longer trainings or prolonging trips. Sometimes he forgot to water the plants, or didn't move laundry over, and that was manageable. That's what every couple encounters. What every couple does not encounter, was the intense pressure of racing a car for a living.

He was frustrated, with Zak, with anything papaya colored, and with his own self-doubts. He carried that frustration in his chest, and it came out in some of the words he spoke to you, and actions he took. You eventually stopped offering to come over and cook, because dinners were becoming continuously tense, and you were uncomfortable. Felt like a nuisance.

But at the same time, you were both so codependent. Without anything being said, you two began to avoid things you assumed the other wouldn't like, and asked for permission to do the smallest of things. You first noticed it when your sister pointed had asked you to come go with her out of town for the weekend, and you hesitated. "I'll have to ask Lando," you had told her. She bit her tongue.

Lando was just as bad, he had quite literally lost the ability to sleep when you weren't around. It made Grand Prix weekends an actual nightmare when you weren't there, calling you at any times in the day or night.

"Are you alright, it's 4am,"

"Sorry, can't sleep again. The melatonin does nothing,"

"Did you try the tea my mum got you?"

"Baby I just," he scrubs a hand down his exhausted face. "I just need you here."

"I can't just get up and go to Australia."

"I'll get you a flight, or maybe we can-"

"Lando," you say in a sterner voice. "I can't."

He's quiet for a moment, and you wonder what's going through his head. You hardly raised your voice or got intense, certainly never at him. But then again, recently, you seemed to never know what was going through his head.

It was silly to think that Lando was the same man that you began dating. You were 19, you would pray that he had changed somehow over the span of 5 years. But there was something missing that once was. The relationship was becoming more of a task, and that wasn't right. Which is what brought you to this moment, brought you to telling him you needed to talk.

"Lan," you whimper, bringing a hand up where his hold your face on either side. You don't even have to say anything more, he knows you better than you know yourself. And he begins to cry harder.

"I've never loved anyone but you, baby."

"I know."

"I can't, I really don't want to live without you," he shakes his head, standing back up to his full height. His hands stay busy, though, ripping through his hair.

"I'm not going to go away," you explain, agonized that you're calmer than he at this point. You stand from the wicker chair, but don't edge closer to him. "But my career is unpredictable right now, 6 months in Marbella is a long time. And you're, well, everywhere. And you need to focus on that."

"I've multitasked for 5 years," he says bitterly, making you sigh. His eyes are back on the stars, and his back to you makes your eyes blurry again.

"I'm not happy." You finally blurt, making his body stiffen. "I'm really not."

When he looks at you again, his expression reads clearly with fatigue, with anguish. "Please, baby, don't,"

It's your turn to clutch his face, bringing his forehead to touch with yours. Through your contact, you feel the heaves of his body, the breaths he's trying to control. "It's not forever," you whisper, mustering courage. "But we need to stop acting like everything's fine."

"I don't see myself without you."

"You're not," your hold tightens, he leans further into your palm, "but we've grown up together. The flower pot's too small now," you try to joke, he barely can fake amusement.

"I'll buy a thousand new pots."

"We need to clean up the broken one, first." His jaw clenches, you soothe it with your thumb. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He says back, almost silently. "Still wear that Mclaren shirt on race days, I need the luck."

You finally crack a smile. "I'll wear the hat too if my hairstyle permits."

He kisses you, almost convincing himself this if is the last fix he can get for a while, he needed it now. Not that either of you know it, but you both have the same thought. You both notice that your cheeks have each other's tears on them now, not sure which ones came from whom. You were on the same page in that regard, at least.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

"You should ask y/n out," your best friend says to Lando in the middle of a party. He chokes on his drink, not expecting her to come up to him like she did, and not expecting the words out her mouth.

You all were freshly 19, still congregating in someone's living room to try to have a good time. He knew your friends better than he knew you, the newest of the group in town, only having moved to the area with your family when you were 16.

"Should I, now?" He says, recovering from his fright.

"Yeah," she replies, ignoring the sarcasm. "She goes on about you, it's cute. She'd hurt me if she knew I told you, though. Not sure what she sees in you," his eyes narrow at the girl, which she ignores once again. "You'd be lucky to have a girl like her in your life."

That much, he knew. You were fiercely loyal to your friends and family, and treated him with a kindness that made him melt every time. You were funny, and genuine, and not to mention, the most beautiful person he's sure he knows.

When he bumps into you later at the party, he asks you what you're doing the following evening.

That was the story he'd tell people with a proud grin when they ask how you two got together. All you recount is how he nearly ruined your cute top with a shitty guinness.

He's struck with the memory when he sees the guinness logo in the ads on the walls of a restaurant. "Mate," Max all but snaps his fingers. Lando locks back in, humming for what he missed.

"Was just curious if you wanted to go out tonight. They've been texting in the chat about it, I saw you never responded."

Clubbing wasn't as fun as it used to be, not when you weren't dancing your heart out beside him, or waiting in bed with your nose in a book when he came home because you weren't feeling like going out. It felt like a waste of his time, and like he was sucking the fun out of other people's nights.

"'M alright," he says with a tight mouthed grin. "Gonna sit this one out."

Max looks at his friend, seeing through his response. "When's the last time you went out?"

If he had to take an educated guess, you last graced his apartment that night on the balcony, 4 weeks ago. So, 4 weeks ago. Perhaps longer, judging by the schisms. "A while. Not up to it."

"You're torturing yourself."

"I'm not interested in getting shitfaced, Max."

Max looks away for a second, quickly weighing the pros and cons of asking what he's been wanting to for the last, well, 4 weeks. "Do you think Y/n is wallowing too?"

The sound of your name makes his fingers twitch inadvertently, almost like a flinch. "That's not fair."

"I'm serious, Lando. You said she needed a break because she felt like you two were co-dependent and not actually working through problems, and look at you. You're not functioning without her. I mean, it's your fucking birthday next week, and you haven't brought it up once, you realize that, right?"

He knows he's right. Nothing he said was out of line, or wrong, and that's why Lando has nothing to say back. He wants to argue, to prove him wrong, but he can't. He's seen your ads and campaigns, the beautiful shots of you promoting luxury brands and names that your fans only dreamed of owning. Despite the distance, he was so proud of you still. You worked hard, were disciplined and humble through your success. He had texted you when the Dior campaign had launched, and the message of your thanks, with a smiley face, made him, for just a second, think that things were back to normal.

When they left the restaurant, and ran directly into fans, Lando tried to put on his best face for them, smiling for selfies and signing what was gestured toward him. When a sweet looking girl with glasses shyly spoke up, telling her favorite driver where she was visiting from, his tired eyes light up. "You're from there?" He confirms, and she smiles with an eager nod.

"Y/n is too," he almost mumbles, but every fan in earshot heard it. The typical squeals followed, the hushed whispers amonst themselves on if they'd push the questions they were itching to ask or not. And heard it they did, as the encounter made its way onto social media and gossip pages. But Max was right, his mourning period needed to be over, if anything was going to change for the better.

You call him on his birthday. It was nerve wracking, which made you bitterly laugh, because never did you think you'd be nervous to talk to Lando Norris of all people. One of the few people in the world you wholeheartedly trusted.

It had only been about a month since you requested time apart, and he had honored that. The texts were sparse, the calls nonexistent. Although, that was sort of what had brought you to this point anyway. But you were working on yourself, and your career at the same time, and things were looking better. Change never happened overnight, but the journal your therapist recommended, and the disappearance from social media besides professional posts were great starts.

You bite at your cuticle as the phone rings. You take your cell away from your ear, chest panging at the contact name "Lan <3" at the top of the screen. Was he really going to screen your call? Is that what you deserved, possibly?

"Y/n," he finally answers, and you quickly bring your phone back to your ear.

"Hi," you say awkwardly. "Happy birthday, Lando."

"Thank you," he says stiffly. "I'm happy to hear from you."

"Yeah I um, haven't really been on my phone here," you bite harder on your finger. "I think it's nice here, you'd love Marbella."

"I'm sure I would," he says with what you can hear is a smile. "I miss you, you know?"

"I miss you too," you concede, "how have you been?"

"Not great, I won't lie. Much rather would hear about you."

"'s not my birthday," and he smiles a bit at that.

"Well, racing's fine. But Max is sick of my shit, says I've been wallowing."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

You don't really know what to say, you've rarely been the perpetrator of his negative feelings. No relationship was perfect, but you all hadn't really hit a communication wall until now. It was uncharted, scary territory. "Well, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, that was all. Have a good day, really. 24 is a big one. Kobe year, that's what someone said to me. I hope this year is great for you."

"Y/n, wait," he halts your beginnings to hang up. "I'd like to come to see you soon, I've got some time before Abu Dhabi and maybe I could swing by Spain on the way."

"Lando," he absolutely hates that you're calling him by his whole name. Lan, that's what would you called him almost exclusively. Lando feels so formal from you.

He needs to hear it, you know he does. He needs to hear that you want to see him, that you need to see him just as much as he yearns to put eyes on you once more. But you were constantly afraid of accidental manipulation, holding him by some invisbile garotte. But this was his first birthday you hadn't celebrated together since you were 19, that meant something.

"Please focus on racing," you implore, and squeeze your eyes shut before adding, "but you if you'd like to come and it won't be an issue in your plans, you're more than welcome."

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

You saw the posts, it wasn't very hard. Fans utterly disappointed that you and Lando hadn't been seen together in ages, putting pieces together quickly after you didn't post for his birthday. It didn't make you feel worse, to be truthful, and to your surprise. You were sure there'd be a barrage of insults hurled your way, maybe a cheating rumor or two. But really, all there was to see were requiems for your relationship, nostalgia for what once was. What did cause you to delete instagram from your phone, was the response to the podcast.

You were single for the time being, that's what you and Lando had agreed on when he visited you. It wasn't an invitation to go out and find the next man to lay in your bed, but you both had agreed that it wasn't healthy to hold out in anticipation of your rekindling.

"You're the only girl I've, you know," he awkwardly trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. He sits up in bed, linens pooling around his hips. Hooking up with your now ex-boyfriend, might've not been your brightest idea, sure, but you were both human, at the end of the day.

"Fucked?" you tease, remaining comfortable against your plush pillow. "I know. First few times kinda showed that."

He looks back at you pointedly. "You cried the first time."

"It hurt!"

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head in fake annoyance. You grin. "I'm sure the girlies are gonna have a field day with you being single now,"

He rolls his eyes again, laying, or rathing slumping, back into the pillow next to you. His arm instinctively comes around the top of your head, you try not to lean into it. "I think I really will finally listen to you and focus on racing."

You turn on your side, admiring his profile as he stares up at the ceiling, probably tangled in his thoughts. His nose sloped perfectly, the little freckles dotting his skin like constellations. Your boy.

"I told my mum."

He snorts. "She hates me now, I'm sure."

"Mm, no, her first ask was what I did," your mom was Lando's biggest fan, through and through. Of course, you were her daughter, but she was convinced he was cosmically made perfectly for you.

He looks at you then, realizing your eyes have been on him the whole time. He copies your position, turning to you so your bodies lay parallel, nowhere to look but each other's eyes.

"Do you regret that I'm the only boyfriend you've ever had?"

You immediately shake your head in denial of the question. "No, not at all," you were lucky, if anything. "You?"

"Well, I've had other girlfriends,"

"Ouch?"

"You knew that," he chuckles, and yeah, you did. "But I don't regret that you're the only one I've been serious about. I still am."

"I know. I am too."

"An ex-boyfriend doesn't lay in bed with you, you know."

"And an ex-girlfriend doesn't still remind your team when your doctor's appointments are,"

"Fair enough, guess we're just weird."

You share a matching grin. "So weird."

So once Alex uploaded the Call Her Daddy episode you were a guest on, and it was official to the masses that you had been single for now almost 4 months, the articles came in. The timelines of you and Lando's relationship, the rumors of him leaving clubs with random girls. You'd be lying if you said you didn't zoom in on some of their faces, relaxing when you recongized most of them as friends or even family members. He wasn't yours to be worried about, you suppose, but you also knew that any girl he decided to share his time with would be a lucky one.

Your friends had tried to get you on dates, that wasn't a lie when you said that on the podcast. But you weren't ever excited to get to know someone new, small talk was painful and you didn't feel comfortable going home with them.

But then, a few weeks later into February, you get a phone call from Lando. "Hi," You answer, pleasently surprised.

"Hey there," he says, sounding slightly out of breath. "How are you?"

"I'm good, great even. Finished up everything down here, leaving Marbella next week to head back home." Home was London to you, not Monaco. You constantly visited, had a family flat there and everything, but couldn't leave officially becuause of your career.

"Congratulations, everything looked stunning," he compliments, and your stomach flutters.

"But um, how are you? I'd ask if you were relaxing, but I'm sure training's well underway."

"Meh, more or less. I'm heading to Surrey next week, actually. Got some stuff to do at HQ."

"Oh," Surrey was only about an hour and a half from where you were in London. "Would you, well, not assuming anything, but if you'd have time to spare, it would be great to catch up?"

This isn't why Lando called you, you fully know this. Who knows what he picked up the phone for, he could be calling to let you know he's eloped with someone he's met in the 6 months you've been apart.

"I'd love to," you hear his grin in his voice. "You haven't moved, have you?"

Not only had you not moved, but you haven't changed much about your flat either. Same bedding, same color schemes, same photos decorating your tables and walls of your friends, family, and Lando. He never took the photos of you down either, and that photo from your 21st birthday was still stuffed in his wallet.

You order takeout, sitting across the kitchen island from each other acting like it didn't feel like your first date again. He acts like he doesn't want to reach out for your hands as you animatedly use them to share stories of Spain, and you act like you don't want to push the curls back that threathen to land over his eyebrows.

The food gets cold as you two catch up, a few glasses of wine becoming a whole bottle gone. You actually can't remember the last time the two of you had done this, and perhaps, absence had truly made your hearts grow fonder.

"Bahrain is on leap day," Lando says, making you gasp.

"That's got to be good luck, no?"

"It's just the first practice,"

"But still, you're starting your first weekend of the year on a special day like that," you muse, "so exciting. I'm excited for you,"

His chest warms at endearment in your voice. You truly and honestly rooted for him through everything, that was one of the things he was most grateful for about you. He knows you don't truly care about all of this, if he won or lost, but that you care about him and his development, how he sees himself and his profession. He fell in love with that about you.

"Would you come?"

You hesitate, daring to look at him from where you had begun to clean the countertop. "To the race? "

He nods, and turn back to the counter. "I don't know, Lan. Is that where we are?"

He hopes so. He's missed you something horrible, prays you missed him just as bad.

Lando takes the cloth from your hand, replacing it with his own. "I know it's only been about 6 months, and that's not enough time to say everything's well and dandy," you fight a smile. "But I want to work through things, with you. I've had nothing but time to consider what was off with us, and I want to be better. For you, more than anything. Yeah, I learned how to be just Lando. But I know I prefer being Lando and Y/n."

You bite your lip, finally meeting his eyes. "I want to take it slow."

"We can do that,"

"So, I don't know if I'm ready for the race. But, my birthday's coming up,"

"It is,"

"And we'll be in Dubai. My sister did it up, got this crazy plan going since it'll be my 25th."

"Quite the old woman you're becoming,"

"Oh get off that," you scoff, pushing his chest. He chuckles and pulls you back into him, where you go willingly. "But, if you can, I'd love for you to come to the dinner."

He raises an eyebrow with a smirk. "You want me to fly to Dubai just for your birthday dinner?"

"You'll be in Saudi Arabia then anyway,"

The smirk gets bigger. "You know my schedule already, love?"

"You're so fucking cheeky, can't stand it," you feign annoyance, but never move from his arms.

He holds you, as your arms delicately find themselves behind his neck, not daring to kiss just yet. To really be honest, you're not sure if you're ready to take that whole plunge.

"I'm happy to be back, even if things are slow. They can be molasses for all I care."

"Thank you for being patient with me," you lean your forehead against his. However, this time, neither of you are crying. Nice, for a change.

"I'd wait decades for you, my love."

After a beat of sweet silence. You speak up once more. "One thing though," he hums to prompt your continuance. "I'm pretty sure, when it's said, it's Y/n and Lando, just so you know."

[lover-of-mine]

Hi, hi, hello, here I am again to sound insane about buddie. First, is this speculation? A meta? A canon adjacent fic idea I don't have the skill to execute? Wishful thinking? All of the above? I'm not sure, I just saw a pattern and my brain came up with something very elaborate that I will now tell you about. Also, maybe read this first because that connection is the one that pushed this into place, and if you want more thoughts on Buck and death.

So, if you're new here, I live in a delusional land called they casted Ryan with a plan that recently added a neighborhood called did they tell Ryan Eddie is Buck's endgame? so I'm always looking for something to prove me right because I refuse to believe someone accidentally set up what could be the slow burn to end all slow burns, and I found an interesting pattern after watching Abandon ‘Ships and things escalated. 

But the thing is that Buck and Eddie's relationship is tied with the concept of death. Both of them have very intricate relationships with death individually, but together too. I was thinking about the “we might end up real close” as the very dark joke Buck was actually going for, with the way if that grenade had gone off, there would be no telling them apart in the blast, but it got me thinking about the way Buck is signing up to die with Eddie. They both walk into that ambulance knowing they might very well not walk out, and the fact that they did, is what makes them bond. The wording of “you can have my back any day” is very interesting to me because Eddie is not saying “I will take care of you” he is saying “I trust you to take care of me” and that's a real intense thing to say to the coworker who was picking a fight with you half an hour before. But they bonded over a promise of keeping each other alive that they were forced to keep over and over again. 

And a lot of major changes in their relationship start with a deadly situation. They could have died pancaked on that building after the earthquake, and after that Chris got introduced into their dynamic. The truck explosion had Eddie reversing into being a medic to treat Buck even though it made more sense for him to be using his strength to help lift the truck. The tsunami started the realization that Buck loves Chris like he is his kid, and also had Eddie explicitly affirming the trust he has in Buck. The well made Eddie change his will. That warehouse fire on Buck Begins, Eddie is the first one to Buck's line and he's also waiting for Buck after he gets checked out. Buck saved Eddie's life during the shooting, the will reveal also established how well Eddie knows Buck. They got held at gunpoint together and Buck's automatic reaction to the gunshot is to run towards it because Eddie might be in danger. Buck broke Eddie's door down to help him after his breakdown that was triggered by death, and Buck also had a moment where he thought he would be finding Eddie's body. And Buck actually gives Eddie hope after it all by giving Eddie a good thing about the situation that led him to get shot. 

We established this pattern, but I want to talk about the lightning in more detail because, unlike any situation before, Buck actually died. Eddie doesn't hesitate to go up what's basically a wet lightning rod to get to Buck after the strike even though he had been thrown off the truck, Eddie also performs CPR even though he was driving the ambulance, and it is Eddie shocking Buck that gets his heart beating again. It's almost as if he was, I don't know, welcoming him back to the world of the living? (Ba dum tss lol this is mostly a joke but please keep this in mind)

So we have Eddie literally bringing Buck back from the dead. But Buck is not ready to deal with the consequences and implications of what happened to him, which is understandable, I guess, with his relationship with life and death, but Buck not dealing with it makes it so Eddie won't fully deal with it either. 

Buck is a passively suicidal savior baby and Eddie is a widower. If Daniel didn't get sick Buck wouldn't have been born and Eddie is the last one standing. And that's a lot about how they deal with death. Buck acts as if he's not looking for death but doesn't mind if death finds him and Eddie is burdened by the people he couldn't save. And the thing with Buck's death is that Buck realized that he does care if death finds him and Eddie thinks that since Buck is alive, he doesn't get to feel the grief for the time Buck was dead, not fully at least. 

So they were at a very interesting point where Eddie is constantly around Buck, and is the place Buck runs to when he gets overwhelmed, and Buck is extremely off balance over the fact that he did die this time and he's not sure how to feel about it. But since Buck wasn't ready to look at everything about his death, how he felt about it, how it affected the people he loves, how it took away his coping mechanism when it comes to being in danger since his reaction was always “but I didn't die” or “I didn't get the worst of it” because he did die and he did get the worst of it, so Buck finds a safe place to hide where he can look at his death through the eyes of someone who wasn't affected by it. 

I was always curious about why the cemetery scene happened in a cemetery. Why Buck and Eddie are visiting the grave of someone who didn't die on their watch. Why a conversation about Buck's feelings about death and wanting to forget it happened, happened in a cemetery. And the location of the conversation ties the conversation to the concept of death in the broad sense that keeps tying Buck and Eddie together. Not considering the breakup aspects of the conversation, the cemetery scene is actually about Buck running away from the way death made him feel, he is drawn to this person who thinks death is cool, so he won't have to see his death as a tragedy and now I also think there is a layer about making Eddie realize he needs to let Buck accept what happened before he can help Buck past it. 

In the locker room, Buck is talking about death as something that got boring since it was all Natalia ever wanted to talk about. We will never know the original plan for that relationship, but considering the focus on her being a death doula, I feel like that was always the point, put Buck in a space where he can look at death as something that's not scary anymore. But the scene also ends with Eddie welcoming him back to the world of the living. Eddie has ridiculous survival skills, Buck survived a lot, yeah, but Buck always ends up in these life-or-death situations by accident. He choked on bread, the bomb wasn't aimed at him, the blood clots were a very unlikely complication of the surgery he had on his leg, the odds of getting caught in a tsunami are ridiculously low, and he got struck by lightning. Eddie was out at war, he was targeted by a sniper, he saved his own life on the well, and he tries to pull people out with him. He has now learned to live with the way everyone he saved on that chopper died, but he even blamed himself for the one guy he couldn't save that time. Eddie is not afraid of death, but he is afraid of being the one left alive. Buck on the other hand is almost afraid of what it means that he is alive. So Buck's passively suicidal tendencies, something that Eddie deeply understands about Buck “you act like you're expendable” are something that scares him. Because pre-lightning Buck doesn't really care if he is alive. And since Buck wasn’t ready to talk about what dying did to him, Eddie doesn’t know that Buck now may want to actually live. He doesn’t know that Buck chose to come back, that he fought for it. 

But if death is now something boring, Buck can actually do something about being alive because he wants to. He can actually be in the world of the living because he wants to be, because he believes he has the right to be. He can actually find a place where he doesn’t believe his life matters less. 

And when it comes to Eddie, with the focus on Shannon that we got recently, he can also find a space where he’s not trying to find her. Accept that she was a big part of his life, accept he will always miss her, and find something new. 

Oliver and Ryan have been talking a lot about vulnerability and Buck and Eddie leaning on each other, and with the locker room conversation, their relationship with death individually and together, the fact that the cruise disaster is on the horizon and while we know Buck and Eddie were filming in cruise and out in the sea they are barely in the promo of it, my own Buck will drown speculations (you can read about that here), and the general they will be in danger on the cruise feelings, I think that could mean Buck and Eddie are moving to a place where they could be a couple that works. There’s a lot of talk about the friendship aspect of their relationship and we’ve seen that a lot in the first episode already, but they are chilling in this space where they can talk to each other freely, and getting Buck to a place where he wants to be alive for himself not for what he can offer other people and Eddie to a place where he accepts the people he couldn’t save without it narrowing the way he deals with his relationships. I talk a lot about how Eddie overcorrects, and one complaint Shannon had was that he wasn’t all the way in with her, so he goes too fast with Ana and might be doing the same with Marisol because he’s trying to fix that mistake with someone else, but accepting that what he has with Buck is its own thing that works, and all he needs to do is be open about what he wants could be the push that puts him in the path of loving Buck fully, the same way Buck just goes along with things because he mostly believes he shouldn’t be alive, so why should he want things, so to have Buck get to the place where he realizes that he has what he wants right on his reach, he just needs to ask for it is ideal. 

I made this edit not that long ago, and it’s almost a poem, about how Eddie doesn’t think what he has to offer is enough, so he won’t say what he means, and Buck thinks he needs to settle for what he’s offered, so he won’t ask for more, and how that’s an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force, and they need to move off that impasse for that relationship to work. And being in the world of the living together and finding the little things that make them happy along with all the tragedy that surrounds them, can put them on that path. 

Their whole relationship is about keeping each other alive, Eddie straight up offers Buck a reason to live, why can’t they just find a way to make each other feel alive?

I said up there about how Buck signed up to dying with Eddie by going in that ambulance, and with everything about Buck, Actually (i recommend you read this for Buck actually thoughts about buddie) and how he latched on to the way Thomas and Mitchell died together after hearing about the life they had together, it's important for Buck to realize that point is not to die together, but to have the life together, and I feel like Buck is in the path to understanding that, and Eddie is ready to be happy, this could be it.

They could be learning to be alive together and finding out they want to be together.

As always, if you read this, I love you 💜

[legacyshenanigans]

HiHi 💜

Just another quick thing I want to get off my chest. And be vulnerable with you guys.

So yesterday was fucking crazy for me.

I basically had a small mental breakdown.

I want you all to know, that I feel like I made it sound like I was never going to come back, I will definitely return to this blog, but after writing this, I'm giving myself atleast a week, to just chill and soothe my mind.

I Havnt cried today, so that's a plus 😅

I adore interacting with you guy's, so im not going to dissappear completely, or atleast i dont want to. And I will come back, whether it's to do OC content of murder hubby and gang (which I'm still very much in love with because I literally put my heart and soul into creating them) or even if it's just to post random shit haha, I like the little cult I've made here, I want to continue to interact with you guy's. ❤️ Because, honestly, the Volo Cult mean the fuckin world to me,

The amount of love I received yesterday made me cry so fuckin much. It was truly overwhelming.

It definitely sucks when something you once love, and the main thing that made your blog what it is becomes irrelevant to you 😮‍💨 such a numbing, horrible feeling. I know I seem like a fiesty c*nt most of the time, and don't get me wrong, I totally am hahaha, but I get very intense feelings.

Will undercut next part because its potentially triggering content. And please. I do not expect sympathy, that's not why I'm about to tell you guy's this.

I think one of the main reasons I'm finding this whole thing difficult is because before I joined this fandom, I'd suffered an extremely brutal miscarriage, which really fucked me up, I won't go into to many details but the whole thing left me extremely traumatised due to some of the things that happend during that time, and when I joined this fandom it REALLY helped me take my mind off things, thats WHY it meant SO MUCH to me to be here, and why this is all seems very dramatic, because to me personally, it really did mean everything to me, and when my love for it died, thats why I was SO upset. Making my creations also really helped me, especially creating Marvolo, who's personality and lore and his general embodiment was born from a huge cluster fuck of mixed feelings and emotions I'd experienced from a very dark place, thats WHY he means so much to me. This fandom just really helped through a very shit time, and thats why I don't take this lightly, and why I'm so fuckin sad about the whole situation.

I just wanted you guy's to know that.

~

[symphonybracket]

YouTube links: Tchaikovsky 6, Dvořák 9

Comments:

Dvořák 9

I know it's gonna get nominated a hundred times, but I have listened to it four times in a row in the past week so I gotta mention it. Exquisite bliss from first to last note.

it slays <3

When I heard the first movement for the first time, I was GRINNING LIKE AN IDIOT because of how much I loved it. LIKE THIS IS SO YUMMY (link opens to the timestamp)

it's got everything. the interplay between minor and major. themes from the early movements that come back in the finale. the most iconic english horn solo in all of classical music. dvorak wrote it while traveling across the US and was directly inspired not only by his native czech/bohemian soundscapes but the musical languages he heard from black and native americans. there's a tuba part but it only plays for like five measures. fantastic orchestrations, making full use of all the different colors of the orchestra. the start of the finale sounds kinda like jaws. it is physically impossible for me to feel upset while i'm listening to it it's the first symphony i ever played in orchestra and i'm so normal about it that i want to get that EH solo tattooed on my art and also i wrote a paper about it for a university music history class and i got an A on it so it should definitely win the bracket or i'll cry

Tchaikovsky 6

Everyone bangs on about the 4th movement but it's the 3rd movement that really hits

tchaik 6 is what i would listen to if i had an hour to live

the 5/4 movement of the tchaik lives rent free in my mind and i think about it every day

It’s beyond gorgeous. The melodies soar, the orchestra swells, and you just need to lie down for a while after listening to it. It’s Romanticism at its zenith. You want to weep and sigh, and it’s impossible to listen to it without literally feeling something.

Symphony No. 6, titled “Pathétique”, was Tchaikovsky’s final symphony. It is an intensely emotional piece, and to many scholars demonstrates the emotional turmoil that characterized much of Tchaikovsky’s life. He died about a week after its premiere, a fact which leads many scholars to debate about whether the content of the piece itself reflects the possibility that he may have committed suicide. The title itself is often translated to mean “impassioned suffering”, although this was most likely a later addition by Modest and not actually part of Tchaikovsky’s vision. Given these facts, many scholars interpret this piece to be about death and suffering. However, this piece can also be seen to represent life and all its contrasting moments. This interpretation is more holistic and inclusive of all of the moments captured in this piece, and also serves to break down the common narrative of Tchaikovsky as a tragic figure.

More comments about Tchaikovsky 6 below the cut (length warning):

Scholarship surrounding Tchaikovsky’s music tends to focus heavily on the ways his confliction over his homoerotic desires appears in his writing. However, his personal letters reveal a much more balanced understanding of himself that goes beyond the common narrative. In one letter written to Modest describing a new relationship with another man, he writes: “I awoke today with a feeling of unknown happiness and with a complete absence of that emotional sobriety that used to make me repent in the morning for having gone too far the day before.” Many of the letters he wrote regarding his relationships demonstrate no shame and no anguish beyond what can be expected of a man living in a homophobic society. It is important to take this information into account when listening to a piece such as this one that has been discussed so frequently, and to understand it beyond the turmoil and strife that it is seen to represent. Like many of Tchaikovsky’s works, this symphony displays a range of human emotions. It is not only representative of tragedy and “impassioned suffering”; it is a depiction of what it is like to live. It is also interesting to note that this piece is used as a signifier of queer desire in the novel "Maurice" by E.M. Forster, a novel also notable for its radical portrayal of a queer man who gets a happy ending. Much to think about there.

The first movement begins with a lone bassoon soloist playing a plaintive minor melody, which later comes back in the strings. As the movement progresses, it grows in intensity and texture. More instruments are added, and the music becomes more frantic, building and building towards the dramatic trumpet fanfare. Throughout this piece, Tchaikovsky continues to make significant use of contrasting dynamics and melodies, reflecting the emotions he hopes to convey through the music. Dramatic, tumultuous sections are interspersed with pastoral woodwind melodies, and the angry brass fanfares give way to a quiet ending.

The second movement is reminiscent of a waltz, and uses the strings and woodwinds more than the brass to achieve its floating melodies. The dynamics ebb and flow to build tension, but this movement never reaches the same levels of anguish that the previous movement does. Tchaikovsky makes use of pizzicato in the strings to convey a lighter, more cheerful mood, and features the upper woodwinds prominently. He also repeats themes frequently, giving the audience something familiar to listen out for as the movement progresses.

The third movement begins with frantic energy in the strings and woodwinds. As more instruments join the rush of music, the underlying eight note accompaniment does not let up, continuing the vivacious beginning through the whole movement. Instruments pass the melodies between each other and engage in conversations across the orchestra. Like the first movement, the brass play a prominent role in creating dramatic climaxes in the music, as well as supporting the march-like conclusion. Conductor Myung-Whun Chung describes the deceptively dramatic ending as, “one of the greatest, most thrilling, but most empty of victories in musical history,” observing that this movement has the energetic finality of a final movement. The reversal of having the true finale be a slower movement represents a shift away from the “Beethovian model of light over darkness” common in most other symphonies of this time period.

As mentioned before, ending on a movement with a slow tempo was a significant shift away from the standard of the time. This innovation inspired many other future composers to use the same technique, most notably Mahler in his Ninth Symphony. The quiet beginning builds up towards a chaotic rush of fast runs throughout the orchestra, only to stop abruptly and continue in halting, cautious bursts of melody. The movement continues with this cycle of rushing up to a climax and backing away as the movement progresses. Tchaikovsky highlights the horns in this movement, giving them both angry, blaring notes which cut through the string melodies and the flowing, lyrical lines that are passed throughout the orchestra. As the piece ends, the instruments fall away until all that is left are steady repeated notes in the basses, bringing this lament of a movement to an understated close.

[sirfrogsworth]

I have two best friends.

Which is not an apt description.

Best friends is too small a term to describe what they are to me.

Chosen family. Ride or die. People I would drop everything for if they needed me. People I would protect with my last breath. People who know embarrassing details they will take to the grave.

Now that my mom and dad are gone, they are my lifelong companions. I trust them with my life.

I talk about Katrina all the time. But I tend to keep my friendship with Delling a little more private. I don't love either of them any more or less. There is no ranking system for my besties. But Katrina and I are basically like an old school comedy duo, so we have a lot more shenanigans to share. Shenanigans are easy content for a blog.

Delling is disabled like me. We have a lot of the same consequences from our health issues. Extreme fatigue most of all. Delling was unable to get disability benefits though, so they have to work a 9 to 5 job. And it exhausts them to the limit. They often will work and go straight to bed. If it were possible, I would talk to Delling every single day like I do with Katrina, but circumstances don't always allow for that.

So we have less shenanigans, but the same amount of love.

I'm also a little more protective of Delling at the moment. They are trans and for some reason a large portion of the "very online" people have decided to hate my best friend. And sometimes I worry about drawing attention towards Delling from the few trolls who still hate follow me.

Delling is almost always in my thoughts when I write about trans issues or argue with transphobes on Twitter. But I refuse to invoke "I HAVE A TRANS FRIEND" most of the time. For one, I don't advocate for trans people just because I have a trans friend. Though it does make the emotions I feel very intense sometimes. A lot of tears and anger. But I also don't want to sound like those conservatives who justify everything they say because they have a friend from a marginalized group.

There are certainly times people will be like, "Why would you mutilate someone and cut off healthy breasts??" and I wanna be like "Delling is much happier without boobies and I can see a huge difference since their surgery and you don't know what the fuck you are talking about with that mutilation nonsense. FIGHT ME!"

But I don't think I need to announce my bestie's private top surgery details just to win an argument on Twitter.

I'm just really happy for them and I am glad it helped. They struggled to get the surgery for so long and fought like hell to make it happen. People acting like it is this horrible thing make me so angry. When it finally happened it was... a relief. A weight lifted off their shoulders... err... chest.

After my dad died, Katrina was unable to get away from Florida to help me out. She was dealing with her disabled dog, Lucy, and her end-of-life care. That just isn't something you can ask someone else to look after for a few days. So Delling got permission to do remote work and drove down from the top of the country to help me. They came on the weekend of my dad's service and stayed a few days after to help me get the house sorted.

I'm honestly not sure I could have made it through that experience on my own. During the service, Delling just clung to my side as I tried to act normal when long-lost relatives offered similar grief platitudes over and over. And I kept introducing Delling and saying they were from the wrong state for some reason. I do actually know where Delling lives, but I guess my brain was not functioning in that situation.

Delling also helped me finish my eulogy literally hours before I gave it. And they helped me print out a bunch of photos of my dad that almost no one looked at. I'm so glad we spent all morning frantically doing that. *sigh* Though I'm hoping the photos will come in handy when I do an online memorial for my parents, so it was not all for naught.

There was a moment when a certain someone gave an impromptu speech at the end of the service about how she let my dad see his granddaughter for a couple of hours a year ago and how special that was, and Delling tightly squeezed my hand to help channel away my anger.

Ya know, those totally normal *yearly* visits all grandpas get to have.

Sometimes friends just know, ya know?

Delling and I also revamped the kitchen for my needs, which I have already turned into absolute chaos. And we had a fun shopping trip to Sam's where I bought tender beef jerky that was the toughest to chew jerky I've ever experienced. I guess the "tender" on the label was sarcastic.

All I know is that casually shopping with my friend was this beautiful bonding adventure where we just got to hang out and be together. It's weird the experiences that stick with you. Trying to pick out wholesale sushi with my bestie will be a treasured memory for the rest of my days. And I think that is kinda perfect in its simplicity.

There are not enough thank yous in the world for what Delling did for me. I wish they could have stayed a few months instead of a few days. I miss having them here in person. But they had a foster bunny to take care of and a job and a family. So I had to give Delling back to the top of the country.

I just wanted to write this in appreciation of my other best bestie. I love them more than anything. And I can't tell you all how special it feels to have someone who will drop everything, drive across the country (through tornado weather, no less), and keep you company during a very lonely time.

[ticklishfiend]

Limitless Bond (Good Omens)

(Switch!Crowley/Switch!Aziraphale)

Summary : Aziraphale and Crowley have a tickle fight during their cute little movie night.

a/n : i’ve been aziracrow pilled there’s a worm in my brain screaming abt them at all times edit: reading this back i’ve realized i’ve never seen a single james bond film so take it with a grain of salt lmao

Word Count : 2892

hope u enjoy :D

. . .

Let’s do some math for a second.

Crowley and Aziraphale have been on Earth together for 6000 years. They’ve been in each other's lives as hundreds, thousands of human generations around them lived and died. And yet, only in the 4 years after the apocalypse did they dare truly bask in one another’s touch. In 0.00066667% of the time they’ve known each other, Aziraphale and Crowley taught themselves to be truly comfortable in one another’s presence, learning about each other in ways they never thought possible.

Try not to think too hard on the numbers. It’s quite difficult sometimes for humans to grasp an occult being’s concept of time. Time for angels and demons is so wildly different from anything a human could ever experience, and that is exactly what makes Aziraphale and Crowley’s love for each other so special and unique. Their time is limitless, so their love is limitless.

What a human can comprehend, however, is how infuriatingly frustrating their relationship must be considering the fact they refuse to actually talk about it. Non-humans are funny like that.

Why put it into words when they both know it’s there? Intrinsically, they feel it, they know it without a shadow of a doubt, and yet somehow they are both still too scared to talk. If they do, it’ll make it real. Their love could literally break down celestial systems incomprehensible to the human mind. Or it could just result in some nasty paperwork. Either way, both sound horrific, and are things the angel and demon are silently working together to avoid.

Whether they ever choose to talk about it or not, those 4 years were magic on Earth.

During that time, Crowley learned that Aziraphale’s hair might even be softer than his wings. Aziraphale learned scratching Crowley’s back when he’s sleepy makes the demon smile without knowing he’s moving a muscle. A demon taught an angel to love roughhousing, and an angel taught a demon the joys of a good cuddle.

But possibly their new favorite physical affection to take advantage of was one they learned together on a casual, cozy movie night.

Aziraphale grinned as Crowley strolled into the bedroom, “I’ve never seen that shirt before.”

Crowley pulled the shirt down to show it off, giving a little wiggle.“What, you don’t like Bond?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Aziraphale, “But I’ve never actually watched the titular James Bond films, so I can’t really say anything,” he said with a teasing tilt in his voice. He knew he’d get a reaction out of such a ghastly confession.

Crowley gaped, stuttering over incomplete words in shock, “Wha—you, you never—I mean—angel, that’s gotta be illegal. Seriously, if I phoned the FEDs right now they’d probably swarm in here guns-a blazing for your crimes,” Crowley shook his head, throwing himself onto the bed next to Aziraphale. “We’re watching it now, I don’t care. You’re lucky I got you this TV set up last month.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes fondly, but didn’t argue. “You can’t be mad at me if it’s not my cup of tea. You know the kind of films I prefer, and I don’t think these fit the list.”

“No no you’ll love it. Got all that romantic filler your heavenly heart desires,” Crowley said, the TV turning on with a flick of his wrist as he settled comfortably against his angel.

They watched together in an easy silence, Aziraphale trying to really gather everything he could from a movie he knows Crowley loves so dearly. He’s not even sure which Bond movie they’re watching at the moment, but he assumes it’s Crowley’s favorite.

But during an intense shootout scene, Aziraphale does get a little bored. He’s always preferred scenes of great dialogue, heartfelt moments passing between characters. Right now he’s just seeing mediocre special effects and lots of screaming. He gets the appeal, sort of, but it’s just not his thing.

Crowley on the other hand was as tuned in as ever. Aziraphale smiled as he watched his friend’s intense expression, seeing Crowley suppress his excitement over a movie he knows he’s had to have seen dozens of times now.

His gaze wanders back down to Crowley’s torso, “Where did you get that shirt? Really, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear it.”

Crowley blinked like snapping out of a trance, trying to look nonchalant as insecurity trickled over him. “Oh, this thing? M’not sure I recall,” he snuggled deeper into Aziraphale’s chest, “It’s my night shirt. Don’t wear it often.”

Aziraphale squinted. “You’re ‘not sure you recall’?”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, yellow eyes bearing into blue, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Aziraphale looked puzzled, shaking Crowley’s shoulder playfully and smiling at the hiss it produced, “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No, stop pestering me,” Crowley growled, but it was entirely unconvincing with that playful grin on his face. He faced the TV again as if his mind wasn’t completely on the angel holding him tight.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” Aziraphale giggled, “It can’t be that bad, darling, it’s just a t-shirt.”

Crowley groaned, hiding his face in Aziraphale’s chest, “Nooooo nonononono, I’m not talking,” he said, words muffled in Aziraphale’s silk pajamas.

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows playfully, rubbing up and down Crowley’s back through the shirt in question. “You know, humans have this fun little game they play to make someone reveal funny secrets. I only wonder if it will actually work on a demon.”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale with a suspicious glare, “The hell are you talking about?”

Aziraphale said nothing, giving a nonchalant hum. Instead, he moved his hand down Crowley’s back towards his ribs, giving it a quick pinch.

Crowley squawked, arching away but getting caught in Aziraphale’s hold. He snapped a look Aziraphale’s way, “Do not.”

Aziraphale giggled in glee, wanting to clap his hands together but needing to hold Crowley close. “I wasn’t sure it would work!”

“Angel-“ Crowley growled.

“A ticklish demon. How silly~” Aziraphale sang, tickling into Crowley’s ribs without wasting any more time.

Crowley bit off a yelp, twisting in Aziraphale’s grip as if he was trying to get away (he wasn’t, but he’s allowed to play along). But Aziraphale kept pinching and prodding and finally Crowley just couldn’t hold back anymore, letting out a peal of giggles and laughs that had Aziraphale cooing.

“Nonononohohoho!” Crowley shook his head into Aziraphale’s chest, hiding his smile. His arm was a little stuck under Aziraphale’s back, so there wasn’t much else he could do.

“Saying no is what started this, dear,” Aziraphale smiled, bringing his other hand around to tickle into Crowley’s neck, relishing in how high-pitched those giggles became. “Goodness, how ticklish are you?”

“I don’t knohohow! Not tryna fihihind out-!” Crowley squeaked out the last word, finding out his ears are especially sensitive to perfectly manicured fingernails.

Crowley squirmed like a worm on a hook, pushing against Aziraphale without even meaning to, his head shaking back and forth like a protest to his giggles.

Aziraphale gasped, “Is this your first time being tickled, Crowley?”

“Stohohop!” Crowley guffawed, hardly taking in the angel’s words.

“I asked you a question,” he said simply, pinching at Crowley’s belly and watching Crowley’s feet kick the sheets.

“Fuhuhucker!” was all Crowley could get out.

“Oh alright,” Aziraphale reluctantly halted his attack, carding fingers through Crowley’s hair. “I said, was that your first time being tickled?”

Crowley huffed, pouting against Aziraphale’s chest and keeping his gaze on the TV. “You’re not even watching the movie.”

The angel chuckled lightly, giving Crowley’s head a tender kiss. “It’s a lovely movie, darling, but it’s hardly as interesting as this little discovery.”

Crowley grumbled, mumbling a response into the silk pajamas.

“What was that dear?”

Crowley lifted his head with a devious look on his face, “I said you’re a prick,” Crowley dug into Aziraphale’s sides, grinning wickedly at how wide his angel’s eyes became.

“AH! Cr-Crohohowley!” Aziraphale fell gracefully into his giggle fit, expelling his excess energy by gripping onto Crowley’s wrists.

“So I take it you’ve never been tickled either?” said Crowley as he wiggled into the angel’s ribs, biting his own cheek when Aziraphale threw his head back in laughter.

“Yehehes! I mean-! Nohoho, I-! Crohohowley plehehease!” Aziraphale never realized how difficult speaking could be when getting tickled. He truly learned something new every day with his dear demon. His mind was mush and all he could think about was how dreadfully ticklish he apparently was.

“Oh poor angel, thought he could get away with teasing a demon,” Crowley teased, poking sporadically across Aziraphale’s tummy and making the angel’s laughter grow. “Naaaah, now that I know your weakness I’m never lettin’ you live it down.”

Crowley crawled on top of Aziraphale, shoving his thumbs into his underarms. “NO! Nohoho Crohohowley! Bad snahahake!” Aziraphale teased even through his laughter, unabashedly having a great time.

“You having fun down there or somethin’?” Crowley chuckled.

“Yehehes!” Aziraphale squeaked, face turning pink from mirth.

Crowley shook his head fondly, not surprised in the slightest. But he could tell Aziraphale would probably appreciate some air soon, whether he actually needed it or not, and eased up. Not before giving his belly once last poke, of course, just to hear him yip.

Aziraphale giggled through his breath, hands resting on Crowley’s thighs. The demon couldn’t help blushing, but didn’t move.

“I never realized it felt like that,” Aziraphale said, a smile etched between his rosy cheeks. “I knew tickling was used as torture way back when, but my goodness.”

“Human vessels are a funny thing,” Crowley said, unsure of where to put his hands now that they weren’t being used as weapons. As if Aziraphale could tell, the angel gently took them in his own, laying their hands down on Crowley’s thighs.

They sat staring into each other's eyes for a while. It was such a comforting silence, one Crowley felt warm in. Why did Aziraphale always have to open his damn mouth-

“You’re quite ticklish on those ribs of yours,” Aziraphale shot a cheeky grin, eyebrows up like he’s being clever. Crowley groaned, looking up to the ceiling.

“Don’t remind me.”

“You never did tell me where you got that shirt from…?” Aziraphale said, slowly loosening his grip on Crowley’s hands before the demon squeezed back-

“I’ll end you.”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m serious, angel. Death, discorporation, sooo much paperwork-“

“Was the shirt a former lover’s? Are you embarrassed, Crowley?” Aziraphale teased as he starting fighting Crowley’s grip, their hands now playing for dominance.

Crowley grunted, not shocked that Aziraphale was winning their little fight, “Grk, no! It’s…just…a secRET-!” He was cut off by a squeak as one perfectly manicured hand tore from his grasp and gripped onto his ribs, squeezing and pinching and tickling. Crowley collapsed forward in his squirmy laughter, hand still holding tight to one of Aziraphale’s.

“Oooh a secret, you say? Do tell me more,” Aziraphale finally fought his other hand free, now tickling up and down Crowley’s torso as the demon wiggled and laughed freely on top of him. His head was pressed firmly to Aziraphale’s chest, and my that just wouldn’t do anymore, now would it?

“You keep hiding your smile from me! It’s rather unfair, my face was on full display when you tickled me,” Aziraphale said before pushing Crowley to the other side of the mattress, tickling him the whole way down. He hovered over Crowley with a big grin.

“Ahahangel! This is stupihihid!” Crowley cackled, head turning this way and that like trying to hide his face in the sheets surrounding him.

“Was it stupid when you tickled me?” Aziraphale accused, pinching Crowley’s hips and smiling when he bucked and kicked.

“GAHAHAhaha-!” Crowley guffawed, finding words very hard at the moment. “Nohoho-! Was— fuhuhunny!”

“Oh Lord, now you’re just asking for it,” Aziraphale shot his hands up into Crowley’s armpits. It tickled like hell (Heaven? no, definitely hell) on himself, so maybe it’ll be the same for Crowley.

Crowley. Screamed.

Maybe scream is the wrong word. The sound that left Crowley was like a screech, a hurtle of pure loud noise that fell into cackles, squeals, and Aziraphale’s favorite, the snort. Oh what a sound it was. The angel would never forget it (and unfortunately, neither would the demon).

“Oh wow…” Aziraphale giggled at Crowley’s expense.

“Ahahangel-! I—shihihit-! I’ll tahahalk!” Crowley managed to get the words out through his laughter, a feat he wished he could be proud of. Aziraphale conceded even though he honestly really didn’t want to. Crowley looked so cute when he laughed, it was hard to quit.

Aziraphale drew his hands away, and Crowley took a moment to catch his breath. When the moment faded, he threw a pillow over his face and screamed into it quite dramatically. Aziraphale pulled it off and held it gently in his lap.

“You were telling me about the shirt?” Aziraphale said, scribbling a finger onto Crowley’s clothed tummy. Crowley batted it away with a hiss.

“Do you even actually care about the shirt or did you just want an excuse to torture me?” Crowley tried yanking the pillow back but found it held in an iron grip. He settled for crossing his arms instead.

Aziraphale took his hand. “If you really don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I just thought a game would be fun,” Aziraphale handed him the pillow.

Crowley took it, raising an eyebrow, “So you were bored of the movie?”

Aziraphale winced. “…Meh?”

Crowley’s face pinched in frustration, “But it’s James ffffucking Bond! No one in the history of EVER has been bored by a James Bond movie, angel, you are literally setting records here!”

“I just prefer the softer films! You know, your…Pride And Prejudice types.”

“That’s one of your favorite books, that hardly counts.”

“It’s still a good film!”

“Okay okay, point stands though, that you only did all that to get out of watching my movie. You don’t actually care about the origins of my shirt at all, do you?” Even though his arms were already crossed, he made a little harumph motion with them, hand still holding Aziraphale’s gently. He turned his head away from Aziraphale, feigning anger. Crowley did love a petty argument every now and then.

“Oh come ooooonn,” Aziraphale shook Crowley by the shoulder with his free hand. Crowley said nothing. “Don’t be like this, you know how much I hate the silent treatment.”

Crowley gave Aziraphale a pointed look that said ‘duh, why else do you think i’m pulling the silent treatment?’ before turning back around.

Aziraphale sighed playfully, “Whatever am I going to do without you to talk to…” He couldn’t hold back a cheeky grin as he pinched Crowley’s side, the demon flinching but still saying nothing. “Who will I complain to when my favorite books get turned into terrible films?”A few pokes to the belly, and Crowley’s knees shot up. “Who will teach me about the different plant life in London?” Three pinches to the ribs and he heard a stifled giggle as Crowley’s back arched away from his fingers.

Aziraphale let the moment hang in the air. He wanted Crowley to feel anticipation crawling up his spine. Aziraphale saw him squirm slightly into the sheets.

He quickly pinched up and down Crowley’s side, from his hip to his rib, the demon flinching hard with a keening giggle. He rolled over quickly, ticklish laughter spilling from him as he slapped at Aziraphale’s hands, feet digging into the mattress. “Okay okahahay! I gihive, you dihihick!”

Aziraphale pulled away for the final time, meaning it this time (well maybe, who knows with how playful they’ve both felt this evening). He laid on his back next to a sprawled out Crowley, putting his hand in his…friend’s.

They basked in each other’s presence for a little while, rubbing their thumbs over the skin of their hands, playing with each other’s fingers, once Crowley dared to tickle Aziraphale’s palm. But then the credits started to roll on the film and Crowley felt the need to confess.

“It was a convention.”

“Hm?”

Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder,“It was a, er…ngk,” he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, letting go of weird insecurities. “…a James Bond convention. They held one in London when those newer films came out. I’m a pretty big fan, you know that, so I popped by, made myself…known.” His confession was awkward but very real, and Aziraphale could tell that even as silly as it was, it did take something for Crowley to admit that. “Got a t-shirt while I was there, thought hell, why not, I’m here, the shirts here, probably made to be. So yeah. My new nightshirt.”

Aziraphale smiled so wholeheartedly at Crowley the demon was half-worried he’d pop something. “That’s so sweet, Crowley. I always knew you loved James Bond, but worthy enough to have the Anthony J. Crowley show up to his convention-?”

“Ohhhh bite me a new one, angel,” Crowley shook their intertwined fingers, getting even comfier against him. Aziraphale did the same, leaning into Crowley and wrapping an arm around his waist.

They didn’t talk about this when they woke from their nap. They didn’t need to. At least, they thought they didn’t need to. Their time has always been limitless. They thought their love always would be too.

. . .

a/n : ok im going to sleep goobyeee

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Just finished rereading the iliad, so thinking about Shauna and Jackie and Achilles and Patroklos, because the similarities are there.

The fight scene where Jackie (Patroklos) tells Shauna (Achilles) to get out because she can’t be around her at the moment, is, to me, similar to the scene where Patroklos is telling Achilles to go out and fight the Trojans.

And then Shauna (Achilles) tells her no, she won’t go out and if Jackie doesn’t feel like she can be around her that sounds like her problem, so maybe she should go out. Similar to Achilles not going out to fight the Trojans and save the Greeks, but instead agreeing to let Patroklos go out with his armor to help them.

Agreeing to go out is what causes both Jackie and Patroklos to die.

Before Jackie dies she has a dream (vision? whatever that was) where Shauna goes out to get her and bring her back inside, apologizing and giving her food. Similar to how Patroklos, before he died, killed many Trojans and believed he might be saving the Greeks after all.

Then it snows, and Jackie freezes to death outside (different to how Patroklos died, killed by Hector) and Shauna realizes what happened when she saw the snow through the window, and she runs outside to find Jackie’s corpse buried under the snow.

My friend is dead, Patroclus, my dearest friend of all. I loved him, And I killed him.

Now where the parallels get good.

Shauna, like Achilles, keeps Jackie/Patroklos’ corpse and visits it daily, talks to it, even does her makeup once. Achilles kept Patroklos’ corpse on their tent, and it wasn’t until Patroklos’ spirit came to him during a dream to tell him to give him a funeral, since otherwise he couldn’t enter the underworld, than Achilles started his funeral. Similar to how Shauna kept Jackie’s body until Tai said they had to get rid of her corpse and than what Shauna was doing wasn’t healthy.

They cremate Jackie, just like they cremated Patroklos.

Do not lay my bones apart from yours, but let them lie together

That’s what Patroklos spirit tells Achilles during that dream, which reminds me of “I don’t even know where you end and I begin”.

When he rejoins the battle, Patroclus does so as Achilles' surrogate, literally impersonating him by wearing his armor, and he represents Achilles' double as well as his opposite.

-Sheila Murnaghan, introduction of the Iliad, Stanley Lombardo’s version (1997)

In the most extreme moments of his grief for his most beloved person, Achilles presents Patroclus not as his child, parent, or wife, but as himself. The ultimate form of love is to see no difference between the self and the beloved. Patroclus' journey into battle wearing the armor of Achilles transforms him into his friend, in the eyes of the Trojans. He becomes Achilles also, tragically, in his violent death before the walls of Troy, killed by Trojans through the help of Apollo, just as Achilles soon will be. Once Patroclus is dead, Achilles tries to transform himself into his dead friend, by rolling in the dust and, like a dead man, abstaining from food, sleep, or sex. He anticipates joining Patroclus again, and becoming indistinguishable from him in death, when their bones are together in one jar."

-Emily Wilson, introduction of her version of the Iliad (2023)

Meanwhile Shauna (and the other girls, but she did it first) eats Jackie, Achilles doesn’t do that with Patroklos, but he does say this line

I wish my stomach would let me / Cut off your flesh in strips and eat it raw / For what you've done to me.

He says that to Hector, Patroklos’ killer, before killing him in revenge. Since Jackie didn’t have a killer (and if she did, it was Shauna, even if she chose to go out), Shauna has no one to kill in revenge, no one to wish to eat for the intense grief, so she turns to Jackie.

Also Jackie was always meant to die, she was doomed by the narrative, she died because she was meant for life outside the woods, for a normal life, the life they had before, she wasn’t meant for a cannibalistic cult, that’s kind of what Jackie’s death represents, she was a symbol of societal norms and hierarchies (being this popular prom queen and Shauna talking about how back home they were probably “missing their perfect little princess” and how Jackie tells her than she’s such a cliché for thinking of her and their relationship like that), whatever, but also Patroklos. He’s constantly described as gentle, kind. Which is weird to see given than he has one of the highest body counts in the book (if not the highest). Also people who are always described by those adjectives, kind, gentle, sweet people don’t usually belong in a war. Smh.

while Achilles is violent, quick to anger, and jealous of his own honor, Patroclus is gentle, concerned for the bonds of friendship between members of the army, and compassionate, and he reenters the war out of pity for the many Greeks who are dying because of Achilles' absence.

-Sheila Murnaghan, introduction of the Iliad, Stanley Lombardo’s version (1997)

Our Patroclus was, gentle and kind to all / When he was alive.

Then they gathered the bones of their gentle comrade

As Hector, who killed your gentle, valiant friend.

I will never stop grieving for you, forever sweet.

You killed his comrade, Gentle and strong,

Also, Achilles is described as having man-slaying hands. Isn’t Shauna the butcher of the yellowjackets?

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

*jingles keys infront of your face*

Hi guys

Having a strange night again but I suddenly remembered Frank Sinatra exists and my brain went nuts for a second and I remembered one very specific song that reminds me of Angel Dust and also this brings me to my topic of how to write what Episode 4 was trying to do without being shit.

Song for your listening pleasure~

Alright *cracks knuckles* let me tell you how my brain is working.

Poison is meant to sound like a generic romance pop song about a bad relationship on the surface but the audience is supposed to know it’s about something much worse. Now lets flip that around real quick.

“My Way Of Life” is a romance song.

At least I think it is? I’m under the aromantic umbrella and I don’t pick up on this stuff good.

BUT try listening to the song while imagining the wording to be more hostile and literal.

A few standout ones are these in my opinion

—————

Gotta have you near all the time, with your dreams wrapped up in mine.

Gotta be a part of your soul and your heart all the time.

You are my way of life.

The only way I know.

I’ll never let you go.

Because “I love you so.”

You are my way of life.

The only way I know.

Make me your way of life.

Don’t ever go.

Nothing in the world that I do means a thing without you.

Im just half alive, in my struggle to survive without you.

Never let you out of my sight.

Be it day.

Be it night.

You belong to me.

That’s the way it has to be; wrong or right.

—————

Colour coding this by which characters I feel represents these best by the way. Angel-ish ones are pink and Valentino ones are red.

When you look at them in a tone like that with certain lines being possessive, and fake (ie. “I love you so”) and the others being despairing, self-loathing, you can hopefully see how I mistook this for a much more unhappy song when I first heard it.

If you look at a song like this thats so dramatic and intense and full of emotion, it’s going to be better than some generic pop song like 99% of the time. The music also make sense for the time period Angel died since Sinatra was popular in the 1940-1950’s which I personally think adds more.

How I imagine some kind of music video for this would play out, I’ll probably end up storyboarding it sometime, but bear with me till I do. would be a lot of Angel doing day to day things and tapping more into what ADDICT did with flashbacks and hallucinations and so on without shoving rape in our faces. I touched on this in my original Episode 4 rant so I’m going to vaguely recap on that. There are times where very simple things can trigger unpleasant memories, I think everyone knows that. But for some reason, Vivzie seems to think the only way to show SA actually happened is to deliberately show us since every other character thats been sexually assaulted or sexually abused has it played off as a joke. Yes I am fucking talking about Sir Pentious.

Angel having a flashback or hallucination doesn’t have to be of it happening. It can be something as simple as sitting next to Valentino. Someone pronouncing something the same way Valentino would. A specific piece of trash on the floor like a cup showing up somewhere else. Reminders can be tiny have a massive impact. Sometimes reminders for shit I’ve experienced is something as small as a hat, water, or a nickname. Even a day of the month can be nerve wracking.

Im about to start listing a bunch of ideas and stuff so this may end up being the entire song, brace yourself for reading all this.

0:00-0:32

I feel like this would start with Angel in his room staring at a wall, probably drinking after work.

“Gotta have you near all the time with your dreams wrapped in mine.”

Is less of a willing “gotta” and more of a “I can’t do anything else.” with the talk of dreams alluding more to the fact that Angel’s original wants from the contract are long gone and noting that Valentino is controlling his career, future, needs, wants, “privileges”.

“Gotta be a part of your soul and of your heart all the time.”

Is once again about the contract of Angel’s soul.

0:33-0:51

“Nothing in the world that I do means a thing without you.”

In the original song I assume this is meant to be like “Life is so dull without you” but for the way I hear this song, it sounds a lot more like “Nothing that I do holds any meaning without your name attached to it.” in a kind of corporate way. I imagine this part with Angel walking down the street and seeing posters of himself but all of them have credits to Valentino somewhere on them. Angel likes his job but obviously the job that he previously enjoyed has turned into a dangerous and traumatic one. Posters like this can both be seen as a reminder that Angel is no longer in control of his own life and as some kind of intrusive thought like “I’m only famous because of you. I gave up everything for this.” AKA Valentino manipulating his way of thinking about his situation.

“I’m just half alive in my struggle to survive without you.”

Once again calling back to Angel’s contract. This part to me is more of what I stated in another rant I did a while ago. Honestly if I ever did this it’d likely take place after or during season 2 under the assumption Valentino dies. This is more of what I said in the linked post, but it’s a lot of Angel processing everything that’s happened to him. Everything suddenly hitting him all at once. “Struggle to survive without you” doesn’t mean that Angel is struggling because Valentino is gone, health struggling because he was there in the first place. Angel is dealing with and processing severe trauma and judging by ADDICT, dealing with vivid flashbacks and hallucinations as well.

0:52-1:15

A lot of this section reminds me of how I processed my emotions when I first realised that I had control over my own life again and I feel like Angel would feel very similarly to how I did.

“You are my way of life. The only way I know.”

After so many years of sticking to this strict regime, enduring so much pain and stress, it’s so hard to just suddenly snap out of it. That was your reality for years and it’s over, but everything that happened is still clinging to you so harshly it feels like its still happening, but when you prepare for a previous habit you picked up from that time and it doesn’t happen it can be so jarring it’s terrifying that you’re still so used to it. My best example in this setting is going to hang up a call and saying “Hey I have to go do something” and you expect to have to lie about why you’re leaving or prepare for the other person to get mad and then they just. Don’t. And you can hang up normally. I know some people wont get this but that kinda stuff is such a specific feeling of realisation.

“You are my way of life. I’ll never let you go.”

Can be taken as either Angel talking to himself; saying he’ll never let the memories and trauma from Valentino go because it’s so engrained into his mind, or, as Angel remembering Valentino explicitly stating he will never let him go. Even if Valentino is dead by this time, it could still be done with a flashback or auditory hallucination like Angel had in Episode 2.

I don’t think I’ll be diving into this entire song, but it really hit something in my brain. I had to quickly sketch a possible frame for a video if I did ever make one:

It’s a bit basic, but hopefully you see what I’m going for. This was for the 0:52-1:15 section mostly, but I can see it being used in various other places.

I hope this was at least a little bit interesting for you all and if not at least maybe I could introduce you to a really good Frank Sinatra song! Usually my really long posts like this don’t get much traction, but I hope this one at least sees a glimpse of daylight because it really is an interesting idea to me. If you have any thoughts, questions, or ideas for this please tell me I love when you guys ask me stuff. I am hopefully going to knock out now because it’s 2:44 AM at the time of writing this, so whenever I post this, please enjoy.

[daisychainsandbowties]

would lilith be much of a book reader? What kind of books would she read?

right so i think that Lilith has the adhd reader thing where YES she loves to read, NO she doesn’t read. actually she’s always reading twelve books at the same time; no she never finishes any of them.

like any really really intelligent person Lilith is hungry for knowledge, and like any child raised under the press of a thumb she’s willing to get that knowledge wherever she can. her brain is working against her a little but it’s also a beautiful creature because it wants knowledge, but all of it all the time all at once. 

i think she’s on wikipedia and in the NASA archives and on Project Gutenberg constantly. she will literally sit there on her phone for hours doing the fanfiction thing where she tricks her brain into thinking it’s not technically reading because there are no books involved.

she tab-hops like a madwoman but it’s a case of balancing her intense need for information with her brain’s unwillingness to tackle that information in a structured way. inside of ten minutes she’ll read a bit about the Riemann hypothesis, a couple paragraphs of a socratic dialogue, an archived forum page about siphoning gas with your mouth and what petroleum tastes like (keeps waking up with a weird sulfur taste in her mouth. keeps hoping to find some explanation other than ‘it tastes like devil in here’) but if you ask her what she reads she’ll scowl and say ‘nothing.’

but i mean this is the girl who used to sit with Beatrice for hours and just listen to her talk about Galileo and Langer's lines and how to debone a fish. who used to sit by the fire with her dad and listen to random bits of historical apocrypha and who requested Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time as her bedtime story when she was three years old.

she definitely sits on her phone watching 6 hour videos about Dark Souls lore and she reads all the books in Skyrim because they’re like 300 words long and somehow staring at the TV and reading off there is easier than reading a physical book made of paper or reading on the kindle (even when Cam downloads dyslexia-friendly reading aids).

her brain likes to bounce off the walls but it wants to know things. so badly. i think audiobooks are good for her but she plays them at 2x speed so her brain has to kind of do cartwheels to keep up and it gives her the same feeling as listening to heavy metal while she goes and picks up heavy objects and puts them back down again in the gym.

i wrote about this a little before but the sound and texture and the saying of words is very appealing to Lilith. she loves the music of language so i think the only way she can read actual novels for any length of time is to read them aloud (as opposed to subvocating) because choosing where to put emphasis and just feeling the words in her body is enough to keep her suitably entertained (plus lilith post-canon is not a huge fan of silence. she spent a lot of time wandering around in the weird high-pressure hellscape of The Other Side looking for Mary and then Ava. so she treats Bea’s noise-cancelling headphones like they’re going to eat her and she enjoys white noise playlists and having music just playing in the background).

Lilith adores the puzzles that language can make. she actually loved poetry as a kid because it felt to her like she could memorise the poem and work it over in the horrible ‘no talking’ hours that her mother imposed. at night when she couldn’t sleep after her dad died she’d repeat the poems over and over and over again and slowly wring more meaning out of them with each repetition.

she likes when stories are puzzles and, incidentally, one of her favourite things to do is listen to an audiobook on 2x speed while doing sudoku or crosswords.

and Lilith will read anything. she’s not super into fantasy or sci-fi because she has fucking wings and scales and it’s a bit like ‘i’m in this picture and i don’t like it’ but she enjoys classics. has a weird soft spot for Moby Dick and she really likes post-apocalyptic books like The Road by Cormac McCarthy and Parable of the Sower and i think she quite enjoys The Hunger Games and the Wool series. she definitely loves The Broken Earth Trilogy because it somehow gets a free pass with her ‘i’m in this picture and i don’t like it’ hang-up. it does make her cry though (the hand scene really gets to her because sometimes her mother would hold her hand like that, like she wanted to smash it and see if it came back together without the dysgraphia).

but she also rlly likes plays because performance and by god Lilith is a drama queen. she would totally have been a theatre kid if she’d been allowed & she loves performing little monologues and she likes how people sound when they’re angry but in the context of a play because the anger is always under the control of the narrative, and you can stop being angry whenever you want. 

she loves collecting information so when Cam introduces her to Stardew Valley she sits up in bed all night reading wiki after wiki and making little spreadsheets on her excel app for which gifts to give and when and how many of each crop to plant and which trees to grow and where and how many chickens and how much hay and all the different fish and how to organise the layout of the farm. so by the next day Cam wakes up and Lilith has basically a bachelor’s degree in Stardew Valley

and Cam is like ‘oh my god Lily i got you this game so you would relax!’ and Lilith frowning in genuine confusion like ‘i am relaxing??’

she does sometimes just teleport into Bea and Ava’s house & look quite forlorn until Beatrice sits down with her at the island in the kitchen and the pair of them peel oranges.

Beatrice talks about whatever she’s reading about that week, and eventually Ava comes in and explains all the different strategies for winning at Super Smash Bros and her opinions on the objective best tracks in Mario Kart while Beatrice cooks burgers on the grill outside in her baseball cap like somebody’s hot lesbian dad.

& then Lilith checks her phone & pecks Beatrice on the cheek and teleports home in time for Cam to get back from the airport. she tries to make out like she spent the whole weekend very sad and very by herself but Cam is like ‘gimmie your hands’ and then ‘yeah, Lil. i can smell the orange peel.’ 

so i think Lilith is a big reader but it’s not for the sake of stories especially or narratives or for characters or anything it’s for stimulation and knowledge and the words themselves. she’s that meme about the boyfriend who sits eating a sausage with the wikipedia page titled ‘sausage’ open on her computer. she ricochets between subjects and has the most incredible visual recall you’ve ever seen.

probably has a photographic memory but will forget what you asked her to go look for halfway up the stairs. Ava sees her sitting on her phone for literal hours while they’re all at the beach and asks Cam what the hell Lilith is doing because she’s not on social media & Cam is like ‘oh yeah she’s addicted to stack exchange and wikipedia’ and Ava takes a moment, licks melted ice-cream off her knuckle and says ‘wow that’s kind of hot’ and Cam waggles her eyebrows and goes ‘yeah, i know.’ 

[forgiveness-in-the-misery]

So to give Nathan some leniency

I think the scene from the church is near the beginning of the movie for starters

For one Murderface isn’t hiding his arms and doesn’t look like a corpse

Secondly Toki seems super traumatized which is reasonable of course but also the intensity feels like Doomstar recently happened. Like recently.

In the background when we hear somebody outside the group talking it sounds like there might actually be a funeral service taking place for a man who has died. It could obviously be literally anybody in the Church of the Black Klok but also what if it’s a service being held for Ishnifus?

Plus when Murderface complains about being there and why couldn’t he just wait in the car, Pickles says that if he has to be there then Murderface has to be there too…which why does Pickles have to be there?

Which draws back around to Nathan not being there.

I totally think Nathan is there but he is either in a different room talking to Charles, the new head of the Church or he’s in the bathroom or another room having a panic attack because we know since Doomstar he blames himself for Ishnifus dying and can’t get the image of his death out of his mind, because my boy loves to torment himself.

[sapphire-weapon]

I think people tend to ignore Leon fucking up (like with Shen May), because they have the mindset of "oh no, that's my favourite character! So he can't do anything wrong or have any flaws!" It's such a limiting way to think. I mean, I really like Leon too, but I'll openly say that he often gives me the fucking ick, lmao. The Shen May scene had me recoiling. Man's a stereotype of "that creepy guy at the bar" and he exudes that a LOT. I'm glad he was turned down. Even the characters we love need to be humbled when they're full of shit, because it's realistic and interesting. It's okay to think outside of the caveman "he good! no bad!"

Also, tacking on, because despite it being a different topic, I may as well stick to a singular ask. Jilleon is such a weird concept to me, lmao. I think for the most part it's treated pretty lightheartedly, but I'm confused because I couldn't really identify where it came from, other than that they're both attractive. I love Jill, but I don't see her reciprocating any attraction. Like, remotely. They get along fine, but I can't even see a close friendship. Maybe I'm biased though, cause I love her and as much as I enjoy Leon, dear god above he doesn't need another love interest. Also Capcom please just grow your balls and properly address Valenfield. We all know they're either a couple or have been pining for several decades.

I'm not gonna lie, if OG Leon asked me out, I'd have told him I had a boyfriend, too. Or maybe just even told him I wasn't interested in men all together. His approach is so... old-fashioned in a bad way. It's evidence that his development was arrested in 1998; he hasn't matured past that point, so he thinks that it's still a thing to just go up to a cute girl and ask for her number right after getting her name.

So like. I'm not surprised that it's pretty much exclusively early 20s and younger ppl who don't think he's trying to ask her on an actual date, because no one does that shit anymore. That was already out of fashion by the time I was in high school, even, and I entered high school in 2003.

But for any tiny childrens who are reading this: yes this is literally how relationships would start in the 80s and 90s. Out of nowhere and on a whim between complete strangers and just hoping it works.

Re: jilleon

Prior to Death Island, I would have agreed with you. 100% I didn't understand what the basis for it was, and I didn't think she'd be interested in him at all.

Then I watched Death Island. And I'm 85% sure that they've already slept together LMAO Chris dropped the ball between RE5 and DI, and Leon just kind of slid in there and took his shot and actually seems to have made it???

If I'm not mistaken, Jill is the only person other than Remake Ashley in the entire series who actually laughs at Leon's jokes. And she actually gets him to laugh out loud in return -- which is almost unheard of for him.

They just seem very comfortable around each other in general. Jill seems more at ease in his presence than she's been in Chris's since... Lost in Nightmares? And Leon is definitely more comfortable being with her than he is being with Ada or Claire. Like, Jill seems as comfy as a presence for Leon as Chris and Ashley are.

I just really like their dynamic in general. I don't think of them as romantic, but I see them as very, very good friends who just fuck every once in a while.

Like, Chris is still Leon's best friend, but their relationship is a lot more intense. But Jill is the person that Leon first thinks to call when he needs to nerd out about movies or to just bullshit in general. And then every so often, a text message conversation happens like:

"Gonna be in DC for a weekend for BSAA shit. Pick me up from the airport?"

"Sure. What hotel?"

"Staying with a friend actually idk if you know him. Leon Kennedy? In the DSO. Brown hair, blue eyes, giant cock?"

"Never heard of him. Sounds like he's in for a fun weekend though."