#it doesn't want to be fixed so i'm just...

[enhaeil]

ICE ! ☆ 박종성

"pull up, she been purring like a kitten preyin' your love. i've been counting on the days you been gone a little too long..."

ice - kelly rowland

devine masculine energy with jay ! ⋆.˚✮

c/w: accidental daddy kink. smut near the end. dominant jay but in a good way

you never thought you'd be into the whole 'daddy' thing until you met jay.

not because he likes it or because he asked you to, but because of who he is.

he's such an 'i got it' guy.

☆ you were at the register of your favorite café, fumbling through your purse to get your wallet. before you could find it, he's already behind you, tapping his card in silence like that's what he was made to do. "next time, just tell me baby, i'll handle it."

or

☆ you're overwhelmed. tired. baby crying. dishes pilled up. when he comes home, he sees how distressed you are and wordlessly takes over, putting on his dish washing gloves. "go lay down. i got it." he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

before you know it, a quiet "thank you, daddy." falls from your lips.

—✩ ₊˚

he just really loves taking care of you. it makes him happy when his girl is happy.

☆ you lay in bed, half-asleep and groggy, when he comes back from running errands. he has sweats and hoodie on, yet still looking yummy as ever.

"hey, baby," he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. "i got the cereal you asked for, by the way." he tells you as he takes his sweater off.

"jay ... you didn't have to go grocery shopping for me babe, i had it." you say as you open your arms for him to crawl back into bed.

"of course you had it, but then what am i here for!"

or

☆ you mentioned a meal you were craving a few days ago. you forgot about it, jay didn't.

you come home from work to the smell of food and soft rock playing. you see your husband with a 'kiss the cook' apron on, focused on setting the table.

"i just wanted you to come home to something good."

when you tell him he didn't have to, he rebuttals saying that he "wanted to."

—✩ ₊˚

leadership, without control. he would never force you or make you do anything. you're an adult. but the way he speaks to you ... makes you want to obey.

☆ he never raises his voice. and he'd most definitely never lay a harmful finger on you. but one glance and a "come here" has you moving before your brain could process. he doesn't say anything that doesn't have to be said. a simple "try that again" and you're apologizing with your eyes.

—✩ ₊˚

he does know that you're human and will get moody or even angry with him at times. that's okay, you don't have to be soft with him all the time.

☆ you had a bit of an attitude, and you admit, you don't even remember what about, but you had one.

jay sits on the bed watching you huff around the room, purposely slamming a drawer extra hard. "you done, baby?"

you shoot him a glare, one that would probably kill anyone else, but not him. he moves from his spot on the bed, stepping closer to you, eyes still soft as ever. "get it out your system, i'll be here when you're done." you can't deny the way your heart softens.

or

☆ you really are mad at him, which leads you to giving him the cold shoulder all night.

"i'm sorry for what I did love, but can you at least talk to me so I can fix it?" he says, sitting across from you on the couch.

you remain silent, pretending to be locked in on your book.

"okay, be mad. when you want to talk, just let me know."

—✩ ₊˚ smut ahead

in the sheets, he never asks you to say it. you just do. he's not performative, he's just doing you in that good.

☆ you're underneath him, barely holding on. his strokes deep and slow, like he knows every nerve inside of you personally. (he basically does.)

"look at me, baby." and you do, or at least try your best with the way he's hitting it. he's so calm, not rushed, completely focused on pleasuring you like it's his purpose.

his rhythm is unforgivingly perfect, causing your head to tilt back as your back arches.

he grabs your chin, not to control you, but to anchor you. "don't hide from me. you feel that? you feel me right there?" he says, tilting his hips just right.

"fuck, yes daddy .." it slips out . not intentional, not to exaggerate like pornstars do, but because it feels right.

his breath catches, once like it does every time, but he doesn't stop. he smiles before leaning in. "that's what i thought."

after that, he doubles down, not going any rougher, but deeper, slower, more possessive, like he's claiming a spot inside of you. like he's reminding you that you're safe, and you don't need to think, just feel.

—✩ ₊˚

of course, aftercare is A1.

☆ you lay there, breatheless, limbs feeling like noodles. but jay is not in a rush. "you okay?" he asks, voice hoarse, the kind of voice that let's you know he felt it too.

"you did so good, so sweet for me."

he gets up, still within the eye's view as he grabs you a warm towel and bottle out of the mini fridge. "c'mere, i got you." there it is again.

when you fall asleep in his arms, jay doesn't move, not even when his arms go numb. it's worth it.

—✩ ₊˚

jay wears the title of being "your man" with pride. he loves being yours, as much as he loves you being his.

☆ he sits on the couch, scrolling on his phone as you talk on the phone with your sister.

"yea, my man took me there once. it was so fancy, the food is good too!" jay looks up from his phone, suddenly interested in your conversation. when you hang up he scoots closer to you.

"say it again."

"huh?"

"call me that again. your man."

you do, over and over again, until he's dragging you to the bedroom. because jay is your man, who doesn't just want to love you, but wants the world to know he's the only man who gets to.

a/n: ive been thinking this 4ever ive never been into the whole daddy kink thing but sumn abt jay mane IF I CATCH HIM ITS ON. also I SWEAR IM FINISHIN Y'ALL REQUESTS.

[seriously-mike]

It's not a grift. A grift is at least intended to make someone rich.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is something that Goldman Sachs and other groups footing the bill hate disproportionately more: a white elephant. A vanity-project boondoggle that refuses to work the way its owners want, particularly looking at the latest fuckup at xAI.

The major corporations burn through absurd amounts of money on server maintenance, the research just doesn't go their way, controllability is typical for stuff governed by what is effectively rolling dice, and they're pissing everybody off acting like that shit is the Second Coming. Just look at Anthropic's Chief Delusional Officer literally pitching AI as a god.

Seriously, if you think that this tech is some world-changing, earth-shattering, divine thing (be it good or evil), you gotta be fucking mentally deficient.

Air Canada got sued. Klarna was forced to rehire the entire customer service department. Some companies even have artists on hand to fix the usual fuckups in AI-generated images all damn day.

I linked to the interview with Jim Covello that Zitron mentions long ago, it should be somewhere on my blog under the "AI bullshit" tag. I also linked to another article by Zitron, where he states that he'd love to use AI, but nobody, absolutely nobody came up with a reasonable, long-time, everyday use case for it. The ones I'm seeing instantly relegate it to the role of a silly toy - I mean, how many incoherent images depicting really basic, stock image stuff do you need? How many randomly generated songs and videos?

Even worse (see three paragraphs above), a lot of arrogant dipshits get irrationably angry to an incomprehensible level seeing AI demos cooked up by the other kind of arrogant dipshits who, for some inscrutable reason, believe they can "fix" something already considered great, be it the Mona Lisa or Oscar-winning movies (those that got an Oscar for cinematography, even). Like, I don't need the footage of an Oscar-winning movie outpainted to 200% size. I need footage from a GoPro or a smartphone outpainted by 10% to 20%, so I can stabilize it in post without having to zoom it in too much. I don't need a painting by someone else outpainted to 200% size either - what I want is getting those three old bags in the background out of the picture.

Meanwhile, they miss the very obvious and instantly noticeable point: that shit doesn't work.

ed zitron, a tech beat reporter, wrote an article about a recent paper that came out from goldman-sachs calling AI, in nicer terms, a grift. it is a really interesting article; hearing criticism from people who are not ignorant of the tech and have no reason to mince words is refreshing. it also brings up points and asks the right questions:

if AI is going to be a trillion dollar investment, what trillion dollar problem is it solving?

what does it mean when people say that AI will "get better"? what does that look like and how would it even be achieved? the article makes a point to debunk talking points about how all tech is misunderstood at first by pointing out that the tech it gets compared to the most, the internet and smartphones, were both created over the course of decades with roadmaps and clear goals. AI does not have this.

the american power grid straight up cannot handle the load required to run AI because it has not been meaningfully developed in decades. how are they going to overcome this hurdle (they aren't)?

people who are losing their jobs to this tech aren't being "replaced". they're just getting a taste of how little their managers care about their craft and how little they think of their consumer base. ai is not capable of replacing humans and there's no indication they ever will because...

all of these models use the same training data so now they're all giving the same wrong answers in the same voice. without massive and i mean EXPONENTIALLY MASSIVE troves of data to work with, they are pretty much as a standstill for any innovation they're imagining in their heads

[tojigasm]

Bucky would just understand the need to be taken care of, and he'd do it soooo well I love that man

"I just really need someone to take over for me. To just make my decisions for me and pay my bills and tell me how proud I make them." You vent, making your way through the tower kitchen, biting into baby carrots.

"You just want a dad." Bucky states rather blase as you sit down beside him in the same moment.

The astonishment must be evident on your face by the way that Bucky raises his brows at you derisively.

"What?" he shrugs at you, and you're instantly drawn to the thick building muscle of his biceps where his arms are crossed against his chest.

"Bucky..." youre nearly at a loss for words, "That's so inappropriate."

"I'm not the one who described my type in man as a parental figure."

your face feels hot, and suddenly, the temperature in the room feels all the more warmer and heavy.

"I didn't mean it like- like that!" You scramble for the right words and realize there are none.

"Sure you didn't." Bucky says rather boredly from his seat, eyes fixed on the TV screen once more.

"I dont want a dad I just -" You stammer, "I just want someone who'll take care of me, and I don't have to worry about anything. just want someone who is there for me and can fuck me so good I forget about everything else and someone who I can just turn my brain off around."

Bucky sighs, rolling his head on his shoulders.

"Okay, let's try this a different way then. "

"Okay..." you pull your legs up onto the couch, biting at the nail of your thumb.

bucky goes through your list once more, "Okay, so you want a dom then."

For some reason, that hadnt occured to you before. the statement makes your head go mushy for a moment as you imagine what it'd be like to have someone like that.

Someone controlling every aspect of your life out of genuine care and wanting to see you succeed or even just regulate your day-to-day life.

the hair on the back of your neck stands up as you imagine that someone being Bucky.

the thought of Bucky checking up on you throughout the day -- texting you or calling you to see if you've eaten enough or if you need money to go shopping.

You imagine him guiding you by hand, both metaphorically and literally -- talking you through intimate scenes and keeping you grounded as he holds you to his chest, pressing soft kisses to your hair.

Or the two of you making dinner — you sitting on the countertop while he cuts vegetables, passing by you with an excuse to kiss you ever so often.

And the thought of him talking you down from the high of something so vulnerable and intimate all in the same with soft kisses to your temple and the contrasting touch of his hands on your skin, murmuring "Always my good girl, y'know that." Into your hair.

You have to pull yourself out of your own head before it becomes too much.

Your thighs rub against one another under you and you dig your hands into the fabric of your sweatshirt.

If Bucky notices, he doesn't say anything. Perhaps he's decided to take mercy on you.

"Yeah, maybe that is it." You offer.

You know you've been too quiet for too long.

Your mouth feels dry and your tongue feels heavy against your teeth all the same.

"Or, you want someone to play daddy." Bucky says.

Your eyes meet his instantly.

You stutter, trying to find the right words but words don't seem to make sense. Unable to even form a thought as Bucky stands up from the couch.

"Need someone to be daddy fr'you?" He asks, cautious as he rests his hand on the curve of your jaw.

You're speechless under him.

"Can daddy touch you, baby?" He asks, stroking the pad of his thumb against your soft skin.

"Please." You nearly whimper, letting yourself relax into his hand almost immediately.

And you've been needing this for so long — needing to relinquish yourself and just let someone else take the weight of everything.

Bucky coos at that.

"Just need someone to take care of you, huh sweetheart."

You nod.

"Tell me what you need."

You think Bucky might be the right one to give that vulnerability to.

"Need it to all go away," you say quietly.

Bucky hums, pressing the pad of his thumb against your lips and letting you take his digit into your mouth.

"Let daddy take care of it then."

[afroslacks]

Don't Copy My Work 😐

Excuse any grammar mistakes and spelling I will fix it later.

I Luv Your Girl - The Dream

Modern! Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Black! Reader

Elijah has always been the quiet, calm, cool, and collected type. Whether that's its actual personality or a trauma response to adolescene he endured. He's been good keeping a poker face. But, when he met you it all changed.

You're his best friend's girl. His best friend being a man named Darius. They've know each other since their early 20's and been tight ever since. Smoke has always respected and love Darius like he was his own until he fell for you.

Right now he's watching you and Darius cuddle up on the couch as everyone watches some dumb ass horror movie. He's not even paying attention to the movie but instead he sitting at the end of couch watching y'all like some stalker. "I can't look" explain as out your hands over eyes only to slowly peek from behing your hands. Darius laughs deep from within his chest to pull you closer under his shoulder "it's okay baby I know you're a scaredy cat."

At his insenstive comment you smack your lips "boy shut up you know I don't like scary movies." Smoke has always liked your honesty and fired and he considers them some the best qualities about you. He never liked women who just sat there and took anything, to him they didn't have boundaries. He wanted woman who show him something and prove him wrong.

But he also knew Darius wanted to break you down in someone nobody would recognize. He had this belief that you needed to soften up a bit and follow a man's lead to make your life easier. Maybe even smile more so you would look so angry. That's exactly why he picked this lame ass movie.

Smoke then clears his throat to let the couple know he's still here. "My bad man we forgot you were here" Darius admits as he looks over his shoulder. "Speak for yourself" You cut in "Smoke are we annoying you?" Not wanting to inapporpiate. After all he is a guess. Elijah chuckles a little bit "nah you good."

He really appreciate that you're one of the few people who refuses to allow him to fall to waist side. Because of quiet nature people often move around because he doesn't make himself known. So to know that you'll always acknowledge him at his most silent makes him want you more. He knows its wrong to want your friend but he know he can treat you better.

He clears his throat stands uo clutching his bowl of popcorn. As screams from the televison fill the room along with the sound of chainsaw. "Well it's getting late looks like I gotta bounce." He admits

It causes you to smack your lips in disappointment as you push away Darius. "What? You don't have to go I gotta spare bedroom." You suggest while Darius raises a brow as your caring nature. "Since when you have such a caring spirit?" He jokes looking between his best friend and girlfriend. "I'm not heartless its too late for him to drive." You insists holding eye contact with Smoke who hasn't looked away since.

"I don't want to interrupt" Smoke confesses don't wanting to cause a fight. You shake your head the claim if their was a fight it started because Darius was annoying the hell out her. "No you're good plus it's my house" insisting

¤¤¤¤¤

Later that night You crawl out bed leaving Darius to snore loudly in bed heaving like a dog. Since he is such a heavy sleeper.Slowly shutting the door behind you make it to the spare bedroom. You gently open the door stepping inside for closing and locking it behind you.

Elijah already awake stares at you as he sleeps shirtless with gold chain gleaming in the night from the moonlight. "Came back for more?" He asks as the blankets falls from hips exposing his abs. You exclaim heavily "I'm just making sure that we agree we aren't going to tell him anything. Smoke then climbs out of bed walks over to ypu then peers down "now why would I do that?" He rhetorrically asks he knows why but, he wants to truth to spills from your lips.

"Because it shouldn't have happened don't play dumb it ain't cute." You snap turning your nose at him with anger flaring in your eyes. Smoke scoffs nodding along "So you didn't ride me or my face until 3am a week ago." He sarcastically agrees wanting to rub it in her face. "So we didn't spend time outside of sex enjoying each other company and you didn't confess you wanted to leave him?" Your face burns as he brings up some of the best memories that you've had in a long time. The memories that you're forcing yourself to push away to be safe.

"I'm with Darius, Smoke you know you're bestfriend." Pointed out "You don't have to be, let me take care of it and you." He suggest wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You heart beating faster as you feel yourself falling again.

Smokes leans his forehead again yours. Heavy breathing between you both and you haven't done anything yet. "I want to treat you like the amazing woman that you are. Don't you want that?" He inqures staring into your eyes. Your lip quivers as you think of wonderful treatment he provided for you before "Yes." You shakily admit breathing him in.

You're of Darius and honestly you can't stand him. He does everything in his power to try to control you. He's boring and his sex game weak too. You stayed simply because you've been there for a certain amount of time.

Elijah places his hands on your cheeks pulling you into his addicting kiss. It starts innocent with a press of his lips. Then he proceeds to open you up demanding for your tongue to play.

Your hands starts towards his large back and then makes its way up to his neck. Wanting to craddle his head to yours not wanting to let go of his touch. Moments later you break apart for air and he plants kisses on your neck. Grabbing a handful of your bottom to cop a good feel of what's his.

¤¤¤¤¤

Anyways let me know what you think. Should I make part 2? I'm sorry I didn't write more its 1am and bad bitch gotta work. Bye🫠

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

hi, hope you're doing great !! feel free to ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable !! i would love to see a simon x neurodivergent!reader, maybe she's blunt because she doesn't really get social cues, quiet when happy (it's when she starts talking that something is wrong LOL). anyway i'm projecting ahah love your writing, have a great day love !!!

Tell Me Without Saying It

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Neurodivergent!Reader

Warnings: Sensory overload, emotional dysregulation (non-violent), swearing, misunderstandings, implied neurodivergence, protective Simon, soft comfort themes

Author's Note: Thank you so much for trusting me with this idea. As someone who relates deeply to a reader like this, this was written with so much love and understanding. You are not too much. You are not hard to love. We all have different experiences in this way of life but what matters is that you’re enough and you deserve love.

Summary: You're not always easy to read, but Simon’s learned how to speak your language. Silence means comfort—unless it doesn’t. When you spiral after a sensory overload, he knows just what to do.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The first thing Simon noticed when he got home was that the house was too quiet.

Which didn’t mean much to anyone else. Most people wanted noise to signal life: laughter, a TV humming, the click of a phone being scrolled through. But Simon? He knew the real signs. The real warnings.

Like the silence you made when something was wrong.

Because when you were happy, you didn’t talk much. You just… were. Curled up in your spot on the couch with your hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, sipping your drink slowly, not saying much—maybe just humming, blinking slow and content like a cat in sunlight. That was your language. Peace was stillness. Quiet was safety.

But this kind of silence?

This was tension.

He kicked off his boots, set them neatly by the door. No keys jingling. No TV on. No scent of candles or your soft humming or even the tap of your fingers on your phone screen. Just… nothing.

“Love?” he called out softly, dropping his duffel by the stairs.

No answer.

His shoulders stiffened.

Then came the sound—subtle, but there. A quiet thud from the bedroom. Followed by the unmistakable scrape of something hitting the floor and a shaky breath. Not yours. Not really. Yours were always so measured. This one was clipped. Erratic.

He moved without thinking.

——

The door to your shared bedroom was cracked open. And there you were.

On the floor. Not collapsed—you never lost control—but very deliberately sitting in the corner, your knees tucked up to your chest, eyes glassy and jaw clenched hard like you were forcing it shut.

The room was a little messy. Drawers pulled open. A hoodie half-flung across the bed like you’d tried it on and hated how it felt. Socks mismatched on your feet. Your water bottle tipped on its side, leaking onto a notebook.

Simon took in every detail in half a second and dropped to a crouch beside you.

You didn’t look at him. Didn’t speak.

But your fingers twitched once when he got close. He saw that. So he didn’t touch you. Just sat down against the wall beside you, giving you exactly 7 inches of space.

Enough to breathe.

Not enough to be alone.

Your voice, when it came, was hoarse and clipped. “I don’t know why it’s happening. I was fine. And then I wasn’t. Nothing happened. But everything feels like it’s moving too fast, and I hate all my clothes and I can’t fucking—”

You broke off. Bit down hard on the inside of your cheek. Looked away.

Simon nodded slowly. “Alright,” he murmured. “I believe you.”

You swallowed thickly.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Then don’t.”

You flinched, maybe expecting a follow-up. A suggestion. A fix.

But Simon didn’t offer one.

He just sat beside you, quiet. Breathing slow. Letting you match his rhythm if you needed to.

Three minutes passed like that.

Then you whispered, “My shirt felt wrong and then my pants felt worse and I hate that I care but it makes my skin crawl and I tried to change but I didn’t want to change because I liked what I picked this morning but now it feels like someone else picked it for me and I don’t know why I care but I do.”

Simon turned his head just a little, just enough to look at you without crowding.

“I know that feeling.”

You glanced at him, skeptical. “You do not.”

“I do,” he said softly. “Got that way after missions. Couldn’t wear anything tight. Couldn’t be inside sometimes. Felt like my skin was screaming. Couldn’t explain it. Just wanted it all off me. Like I’d been put in someone else’s body.”

You blinked. Your expression cracked.

“…Exactly.”

Simon reached down slowly, brushed his knuckles against the floor. Still didn’t touch you.

“Okay if I get you something soft to wear?”

You nodded, hesitant.

He stood up, moved through the room carefully, like someone walking in a church. Quiet. Respectful.

He found your favorite hoodie—the oversized one with the sleeves that hung past your hands and the tag you’d already cut off—and your soft cotton joggers. No elastic waist. No tightness. Just you.

He brought them back and set them down beside you gently.

You looked at them. Then at him.

“Can you turn around?” you asked.

He turned without hesitation.

Behind him, he heard the rustle of fabric. The shuffle of movement. A tiny, whispered sigh of relief.

And then, after a few seconds: “You can look now.”

You weren’t crying. You didn’t cry often. But your eyes were puffy and your breathing was still uneven.

Simon dropped back down beside you.

“I don’t want to explain myself every time this happens,” you muttered suddenly. “I’m tired. I just want it to be. And not feel guilty about it.”

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation,” he said, voice like rough velvet. “Not even me.”

You looked at him sharply, like you were waiting for a catch. But there wasn’t one. Just Simon, steady and quiet, his big frame curled beside you like a dog waiting patiently for the storm to pass.

“I don’t know how to be soft,” you admitted. “I don’t know how to sugarcoat. I say things and people think I’m rude or cold or robotic but I’m just—me. This is what love looks like for me. It’s quiet and blunt and weird. And I’m scared you’ll get tired of that.”

Simon turned fully to face you then, gaze sharp, intense in that way that could shake a lesser person to their bones. But you didn’t flinch. You just held your ground, even in your moment of overwhelm.

“I fell in love with you because of that,” he said firmly. “Not in spite of it.”

Your throat bobbed.

Simon leaned in just a little, eyes locked on yours.

“You don’t sugarcoat,” he said, almost fond now. “You say exactly what you mean. You’re never fake. You’re quiet when you’re happy and loud when you’re hurting. That’s how I know what matters.”

You were quiet again, but this time… soft. The air around you shifted.

Simon reached out slowly, giving you time to pull away.

You didn’t.

He cupped the side of your face, thumb stroking along your jaw.

“Don’t need you to be soft, love,” he murmured. “Need you to be real. That’s who I’m staying for.”

A long pause.

Then, finally—finally—you leaned into him. Tentative at first, then full. Tucked your head under his chin. Let your hands bunch into his hoodie.

He held you. No rocking. No shushing. Just his arms, firm and solid and safe.

After a while, you spoke again. “Thank you.”

Simon rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Anytime,” he said. “Every time.”

——

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[bright-side20]

Azriel sees Elain in the garden, where he used to have her company, but now she doesn't look up.

They're in the same room, but she won't meet his eyes.

He remembers how close her lips were to his, the hurt in her eyes when she said, "I'm sorry."

He doesn't khow to fix it, because Elain didn't demand an apology. She didn't ask for an explanation. She just… withdrew.

It's worse than rage, because Azriel would have taken her anger, welcomed it.

He pretends not to feel the sting every time she looks away first, pretends not to hear her footsteps stop just short of where he stands, pretends he's used to being invisible to the one person he wants most.

But she saw him, she let him in, she trusted him.

He's the one who made her shut down.

He keeps telling himself he had no choice, that it was better this way, that he had orders, that she already has a mate.

But the truth pounds louder in his chest:

"She would've chosen me."

"And I told her that it was a mistake."

He misses her, so much it guts him.He misses how her presence pulled light from the dark, misses the way she looked at him like he was worth seeing, misses how her gentle hand would cradle his scarred one.

He'd give everything to feel that touch again...

[nhmkhnh]

the only safe place.

pairings: jinx x fem!reader

preface: you never tried to fix her. you just stayed.

author's note: my baby jinx needs more love!! so here we go! short, ik, but if i don't write down i'm sure as hell that i would forget.

wrn: lowercase.

navigation.

it’s nearly midnight when you hear the tap. jinx—wild hair, shaky hands, eyes too tired—climbs in like she’s done it a thousand times. you don’t ask where she’s been. you just hand her the oversized hoodie she always steals and scoot over. her fingers brush yours under the blanket, hesitant. you grab her hand and squeeze it. “still got a place for me?” she whispers. “always.”

she sits between your legs, surprisingly still for someone who never stops moving. her blue strands are a mess, but you don’t complain. you hum while you braid it, and she leans back into your knees, eyes closed. “no one’s ever touched me like this,” she murmurs. you kiss the top of her head. “you deserve to be touched gently, jinx.” she doesn't say anything, but she holds your ankle like it's the only anchor she's got.

the place is a mess—like her mind. exploded gadgets, half-painted walls, and drawings of you everywhere. you spot one labeled “home?” and feel your chest tighten. “i know it’s crazy,” she mumbles. you step into her chaos, arms wide. “it’s you. i love it.” her laugh is soft, disbelieving, like you just handed her something she forgot she wanted: acceptance.

jinx can’t cook for shit, so she sits on the counter, legs swinging, watching you stir the pot. she asks dumb questions like, “what if soup had teeth?” just to see you laugh. when you hand her the first spoonful, she grins with sauce on her lip. “why does this taste like safety?” you wipe her mouth and say, “because love’s the secret ingredient, dummy.”

she has a flashback. gunshots. fire. screaming. suddenly she’s pushing you away, yelling, “don’t touch me!” you don’t run. you kneel beside her, voice steady. “you’re safe. you’re here. with me.” eventually, her body stops shaking, and she curls into you like a child. “you’re not afraid?” “i’m afraid of a world without you in it.”

you’re both drenched and breathless from running. she looks at you, rain streaking her lashes, and says, “you look beautiful when you're soaking wet and mad at me.” you punch her arm. she laughs. then kisses you—soft, reverent. the sky thunders, but your world is quiet in her arms. for once, she lets herself believe she deserves love.

jinx isn’t used to giving. but she tries—burnt metal, lopsided, a mechanical flower that sort of spins. she hands it to you with an embarrassed grimace. “it’s… whatever.” you cradle it like it’s made of gold. “it’s perfect.” she stares at you like she can’t understand why you’d love something broken—until she realizes you’ve loved her all along.

she’s not good at sleeping. so she watches you instead, counting your breaths, memorizing your face. “you make me feel like i’m not a monster,” she whispers into the dark. you don’t hear it. but when you roll over and curl into her chest, jinx holds you like you’re the only good thing she has left in the world.

she takes you to the place no one else gets to see. there’s no flowers. just silence. “he tried to protect me,” she says, voice raw. “but you… you healed me.” you take her hand, squeeze gently. “he made you survive. but you chose to live.” and jinx leans her head on your shoulder like a child finally allowed to grieve.

after weeks of crashing at your place, she stands by the door one morning, chewing her lip. “if i asked you to… i don’t know. not get tired of me. would you stay?” you step forward, wrap your arms around her waist. “jinx. i never planned on leaving.” her smile is crooked and watery, but it’s real. “okay. then i guess… i’ll try to stay too.”

[verdancy-hime]

Yeah they all disappeared on purpose for three days and then kept baiting me with incel questions

Again

Men really would torture a kid to punish a woman and justify it with biology.

Having one biological father per child was a mistake it causes misogyny we should have as many males as fuck the female be the biological father so that our species doesn't torture women.

Like literally that one change to our species would fix patriarchy and toxic masculinity and monogamy which is actually a bug when it takes human babies so much effort to raise and isn't natural for our species- until men discovered the concept of biological fatherhood and invented rules about it, kids having multiple parents was normal. Kids being raised in groups of people all raising kids together is normal.

Not to be all brave new world but literally most problems with dating are caused by the urge to do monogamy and if you can force yourself not to be monogamous you aren't in pain. Pain is caused by having to fight the person you're with for the right to be allowed to get the things you need from other people romantically and give what you are able to give and not more and if you don't do monogamy you don't have that problem.

And all that got started because people wanted to abandon children that they weren't sure were biologically "theirs."

And i don't blame people for that because everyone must want to abandon their babies! They're cute but they're an incredible amount of work and really easy to accidentally kill!

Like the ability to have a kid and never raise it is not just a male privilege rich people also very much do that all the time because having children is miserable and sucks.

But if a kid had like 6 parents that wouldn't happen there would be more people to take care of the kid and more time for those people to take care of themselves

But men hate single moms and polygamy tends to attract people who want to do child marriage and stuff.

So the solution is someone needs to make a virus that alters the human genome so that what incels say is unironically true and every male who has sex with a female is the biological father together.

I'm not smart.

I wish I was smart I could hook that up.

vibes are off again. guess i'll go hang myself in the garage since you hate me and want me dead

[inlovewithfionaapple]

something in the air

warnings: not proofread :/

wc: 1.4k

it started with how y/n would always sit next to emily, even if all the other seats were vacant.

to everyone else, it was probably just friendly. just two good friends sharing an apartment like they always had. but to emily, it was just something about the way y/n's knee somehow always brushed against hers—never quite accidentally, no—and it would linger for a second too long. it didn't help that y/n smelled like vanilla and lemons, or that she had a laugh that made emily forget where she was up to in a sentence halfway through.

it was subtle at first. a gaze lingered for a little too long. a joke was told that had y/n grinning ear to ear at emily, eyes soft. emily didn't want to dissect it, but it was getting harder and harder not to.

especially now, with y/n leaning over the back of her chair in the team lounge, scrolling through emily's phone screen as though she were perfectly entitled to.

"why do you let your texts stack up like that?" y/n asked, low and teasing. "see, you have eighty-three unread messages. that's criminal."

emily chuckled, "maybe i'm just mysterious."

"you're not. you're a mess."

"same difference."

y/n let out a soft, disbelieving snort. "you need someone to get your life together."

"you volunteering?”

"i might." y/n's voice dropped with that mocking rhythm she had when she was pretending. but the grin she gave emily as she shook herself loose and flopped down beside her on the couch was not so pure.

emily blinked. she wasn’t sure what to make of that. she wasn't one of those types who would get shy, but y/n had this way of phrasing things that would short-circuit her brain.

"don't get cocky," emily grumbled, thumbing mindlessly through her texts.

y/n sprawled out, with arms above her head, hoodie raised up to expose the gentle stripe of skin at her waist. "you say it like it's a bad thing."

emily gazed at the screen, but she wasn't reading anything.

the reality was, y/n had always been a bit of a risk to her. from the moment they'd met—y/n with her unwavering confidence, the type of charm that pulled people in like gravity—emily had been aware she was in trouble.

but they were friends. good friends. and emily wasn't going to jeopardize that.

with the exception. sometimes y/n would look at her like she was thinking the same thing. like she wanted to mess it up, too.

it only got worse—or better—when they went out together.

there was something about seeing y/n in low bar lighting that did what it needed to do to get emily off kilter. not literally, but emotionally. y/n didn’t look out of the ordinary. she wore a black top and little skirt, her hair appearing as if she hadn't bothered, sipping a glass of ginger ale with a slice of lime.

"you look like you own the place," emily remarked, sliding into the booth beside her instead of across from her.

y/n smiled. "that a compliment or an observation?"

"both."

"careful," y/n responded, voice light, fingers tracing the edge of her glass. "you keep talking like that and i'll start to think you're flirting."

emily raised an eyebrow. "maybe i am."

that gave y/n pause for a moment—just a moment. her smile didn't falter, but her eyes flickered down to emily's lips, and then back up.

"mighty forward of you," she whispered. "considering you haven't even gotten me a drink."

emily did not answer straight away. she did not need to. the atmosphere between them was thicker now, charged with that thrumming awareness that they both continued to pretend wasn't there.

"i can fix that," emily said at last, her voice a bit colder than she had intended. "but i didn't think you drank."

"i don't. doesn't mean i don't enjoy the admiration."

that was y/n in a nutshell—always flirting, always one up. but tonight, emily wasn't so sure she was the only one playing the game.

as they departed, emily held the door for her without even thinking, and y/n hesitated beneath the threshold. their eyes locked, and for an instant, the air shifted once more.

"thanks," y/n whispered, standing near enough to graze against her. "always such a gentleman."

emily swallowed hard, pulse racing. "only for you."

it wasn't always like that. there were days when they were normal. normal as in: goofing off in the gym, trash-talking on the court, eating tons of protein bars and watching reruns of new girl at y/n's place.

but even then, it was there. the undercurrent. the way y/n would toss a pillow at her mid-episode, only to curl her legs under emily’s the moment it landed. or how her head would gradually drift to emily’s shoulder as the night wore on, as if she didn’t even realize she was doing it.

"you’re so warm," y/n mumbled one night, eyes closed, face half-buried in emily’s hoodie.

emily tried to sound casual, even though her heart was racing.

"is that why you keep me around?" she breathed.

"that and so you can reach things on the top shelf."

"you're using me."

y/n cracked open one eye. "just a little."

they never talked about it. not the touches, the glances, the brewing of it all. but it built, in silence, like a pressure cooker without a safety valve.

it finally came to a head on a team night out.

they were in a hotel room in chicago, crowded into a double bed as always when double-teamed. emily had just finished the shower, hair wet, wearing sweats and a tank top. y/n was already lying on her side of the bed, browsing on her phone.

"move over," emily said, tossing her towel onto the chair.

y/n ran her hand over the seat beside her without looking up. "you're bossy."

"you love it."

"that's debatable."

she smiled as emily climbed in beside her, their skin colliding with the comforter. emily rested on one elbow, looking at her.

"what?"

"you have no idea what you do to people," emily whispered.

y/n blinked. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"it means…" emily hesitated. "you flirt like it's breathing. you touch, you tease, you look at me like—like you're waiting for something to happen.”

y/n gently set her phone on the bed. "maybe i am."

emily's breath was stuck. "then say it."

y/n turned to her fully, their noses inches apart now. "i like you," she said. "i've liked you for a while. i just didn't want to screw it up."

emily breathed softly, caught between relief and incredulity. "you think you're the only one who's been walking on eggshells?"

"i kept hoping i wasn't." y/n smiled, though this time it was guarded, revealed. "so… what do we do now?"

emily leaned in and traced her fingers down the side of y/n's face, brushing back a curl to rest in her ear. "now? i think we should stop pretending."

and then she kissed her.

it wasn't rushed or uncomfortable. it was soft, tentative at first, the kind of kiss that had been months in the making. y/n breathed into her mouth, one hand rising to emily's hoodie and wrapping around it like she'd been waiting for permission.

when they parted, y/n said, "took you long enough."

"you were flirting with me like it was your job."

"it sort of was," y/n teased, eyes glinting. "you just weren't paying attention."

emily laughed, low and husky. "i was paying attention. i just didn't know if i was supposed to do something about it."

"you are now."

the next morning, nothing was stiff.

y/n still swiped the rest of the hotel breakfast muffins. emily still made a show of complaining about y/n monopolizing the pillows. but their hands encountered each other more easily now, fingers stroking and lingering. glances were electric but no longer had to hide. it was all the same—just different.

later that night, at home, y/n curled up beside emily again like she always did. but this time, she rested her head on emily's chest instead of her shoulder. emily wrapped her arms around her without hesitation.

"are we, like… a thing now?" y/n murmured into her.

emily smiled into her hair. "i think we've been a thing for a while."

y/n hummed, happy. "good. i like being your thing."

emily kissed the crown of her head, the warm vanilla wrapping around her like a shawl. "yeah," she breathed. "me too."

[tranquilreign]

superhuman | series | 18+ | III.

- © tranquilreign - all rights reserved | DO NOT STEAL, TAKE or COPY any of MY WORK without MY PERMISSION.

pairing; jungkook/reader genre: mafia au! dystopian au! tattoo artist au! warnings: swearing, guns, medicine, mention of drugs and death word count: 2.8k synopsis: the year 2107, seven years after the first superhuman was confirmed. Though few in numbers, they are dangerous. deadly. as their appearances have become more frequent, you have your identity hidden for your own safety. but the superhumans seem to be one step ahead. notes: please understand that the mafia/tattoo artist au is inspired by wattpad story blood ink by pocketbangtan. nothing else. and if you are interested and would like to be added to a tag list let me know! taglist: @taekrve @taerjin @softhaes @darklove2020 @nellbyy

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The sounds or voices stirred you from your unconscious state. You tried to make out the owner of the voices. They sounded familiar, but not a good kinda of familiar.

"How could you be so reckless!"

"We needed to show what we are capable of! Do you think he would have taken us seriously if we just left her on the floor, alive?"

That voice. Anger rose from inside you. Wraith. Not bothering to care about the searing pain in your temple, you flung the bed sheets off you and stood up.

All eyes shifted to you, each holding a different expression. Instead of three men, there were seven, all of whom you recognised. Your gaze was fixed on Wraith storming up to him. You pulled your fist back without a second thought, ready to strike him.

Wraith easily grabbed your fist, watching you with such intensity that you usually would have blushed. Slowly, he brought your fist down, bringing it to your side, but still refused to let it go.

"You," you spat. "You fucking shot me!"

"It was necessary," Wraith sighed, rolling his eyes.

You let out a bitter laugh, eyes darting to the waistband of his jeans. With your free hand, you snatched his handgun and pulled away from him. The other men didn't hesitate to pull out their weapons and point them at you, but you didn't care; all your anger was fixated on Wraith.

"Let's see how necessary it is now, then."

Wraith stood forward, his eyes looking between you and the gun. Your hand shook, and your lip began to tremble. You had never taken a human life before, and the thought of it sickened you. With a gasp, you slowly collapsed to the ground, defeated.

A pair of arms wrapped around you before you could fully hit the floor. Looking up, Wraith stared down at you, though not with his regular cunning eyes. They were soft, silently telling you to calm down.

"Please understand Y/n-" you looked up at IQ. "It was never a part of the plan to shoot you, but we had to make a statement to Soo-hyun."

Tears pricked your eyes at the mention of your father. You couldn't understand how he could be so selfish, wanting to prioritise power over the life of his own flesh and blood.

"How- how am I alive? Wraith shot me in the head. Shouldn't I be dead?" you asked, the sudden thought coming to you.

"We're superhumans, Y/n. Each of us has our own enhanced abilities," Doc explained. "But right now, you need to get some rest. You've been through a lot and need strength before we let you go."

Your head snapped towards Doc, frowning. How could they expect you to just leave as if nothing had happened? You had been kidnapped, knocked out, tortured, betrayed and shot. All in the span of a week. You wanted revenge on your father.

"No. I want to join you," you replied determinedly. "I want to help you take down my father. And I want to be the one to kill him."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that," IQ explained.

You raised an eyebrow at his words.

"Why not? Do you realise I can't go back to the life I had, knowing what my father is doing? He will kill millions of people for his own selfish gain. And I can't sit back and allow that to happen," you argued.

"We'll discuss this when you are fully healed," IQ finished.

Wraith slid his arms underneath you and lifted you easily, gently placing you back onto the bed. He didn't spare you a glance as he walked out of the room.

"I'll stay with her," Doc explained.

The rest of the boys nodded, leaving one by one until only you and Doc were left. You laid on the bed, your frustration growing more with each passing second.

"Just ask what you want to ask," Doc interrupted your thoughts. "I know you must have a lot of questions."

You sat up, wincing slightly as you recognised the ache in your head. You leaned on your elbow, turning to face the man. He spun around from his desk, looking at you, chin resting on his hands.

"I want to know everything. I don't understand how I am alive. Or how you guys knew what my father was doing. He seems to have covered this up well from the press," you rambled.

Doc chuckled.

"I can't tell you everything, as the others' stories are not mine to tell. But I will tell you mine, if you wish to know."

"I understand," you replied.

"As you know, I go by Doc, but my real name is Kim Seokjin," he explained.

The name rang a bell to you, for some reason, but you couldn't figure out where you had heard it from. As if Seokjin had read your thoughts, he continued.

"I used to work for your father."

You were stunned.

"I remember my father mentioning you. You worked on lab research on cures for cancers, did you not?" you asked, intrigued.

"That's what he told people," Seokjin confirmed. "But I am the reason the superhuman serum exists. You see, Soo-hyun explained to me that by creating this serum, it could cure people of diseases, cancers, anything you can think of."

"But clearly it wasn't like that..." you mumbled.

"Exactly, he had convinced everyone in the lab, including me, that it would be for a better future. But I was sickened once I found out what he was really doing. I was ashamed that I contributed to such a vile act against humanity"

"So you ran?"

"Yes. I ran. When I discovered what was happening, I had completed the final stage of the serum. So I injected it into myself to ensure Soo-hyun didn't get his hands on it."

You gasped, sitting further up in your seat. Seokjin was ready to sacrifice his life, not knowing what the serum had done, to try to protect the people of South Korea.

"I had no idea what would happen to me, but I knew I needed to escape the laboratory as quickly as possible. And ever since then, I have been in hiding. If I get caught, Soo-hyun will threaten the people's lives until I remake that serum."

"I'm so sorry, Seokjin," you mumbled. "It must be so difficult for you to constantly hide away, knowing what my father is doing."

He hummed.

"I'm just glad I could hold him off for a few years. It's also why I have this-"

Seokjin lifted the sleeve of his black sweater to reveal the tattoo you had noticed when you had first met him in the studio. The numbers 21001031.

"The date you became a superhuman," you whispered.

"It's a constant reminder of who I am. And what I am trying to prevent."

You sat in silence, thinking over the information Seokjin had provided. You felt sick, knowing that your father wanted to use the serum for war. Stealing a glance at Seokjin, he sat staring at you. His hair was slightly tangled, indicating he had not slept properly since looking after you.

"Could you tell me about the others as well? And what exactly makes you superhuman?"

Seokjin sighed, gently pushing a pen with his fingers. He knew you would have a lot of questions. This was all new for you, and you weren't sure what you could and couldn't ask. But he knew that you would keep asking nonetheless, so he had decided then and there he would tell you everything he could.

"Before I found out what Soo-hyun was doing, I modified the serum to enhance the strength of people's abilities, at his orders. So if you were, say, an expert at running, when injected with the serum, it would improve that ability, making you able to run faster, for extended periods."

Seokjin stood, moving from his desk to the table of medical supplies. He picked up a small bottle of pills and examined the label. With a slight nod, he approached you and placed them on your bed.

"For the pain. Take two a day, one in the morning, one at night," he explained.

When he mentioned it, the ache in your temple returned, making you hiss. You quickly unscrewed the lid, spilling the contents into your hand. Juggling the pills around until one sat in your palm, you threw your head back, letting the medicine fall into your mouth.

Seokjin handed you a small cup of water to help wash it down. He eyed you as you did so, ensuring you had done as he asked. He grabbed his chair and pulled it over so he sat next to your bed.

"In my case," he continued, "my expertise in scientific research, as well as having a medicinal background, allowed the serum to enhance my capabilities in that field."

"I see, so the bullet Wraith put in my head-"

"I was able to extract and reverse most of the injury," he finished. "Though, I will say, I could have killed him myself when I had seen what he did to you."

You both chuckled in unison, feeling yourselves grow more comfortable around one another.

"So what can the others do? How did you meet them?" you asked eagerly, shifting closer to Seokjin.

"I was the last one to join BTS. They originally were just a low-level gang, doing dirty work for more powerful groups in Seoul. And as for IQ, well, his name is self-explanatory."

"So he's just really smart? But can't anyone be smart?"

"Not like IQ," Seokjin laughed. "His real name is Kim Namjoon, and before he became a superhuman, he had an IQ of one hundred and forty-eight."

Your eyes were blown wide at his words. A high IQ was already impressive; you could only imagine how spectacular he was now.

"Namjoon's intelligence is enhanced to such a degree that he can plan everything, and it will go perfectly. He can read body language and tone as if it's nothing. The slightest change of breath, he'll know your next move."

"Fucking hell," you muttered. "Well, how did he become a superhuman? You said you injected the final result into you when you fled."

"You are correct, yes," Seokjin hummed. "But, I had left a small sample. I needed to keep some to continue my research."

"And I'm guessing from what you told me about my father's plans, you had told the others, and they eventually became superhumans to try and take him down?"

"You're essentially there. But I made them swear an oath that they would not use these enhanced abilities to cause harm to civilians or to people who were undeserving of our cruelty," Seokjin muttered, looking away.

"And you just trusted them with this information? This power?" you asked in disbelief.

Seokjin shook his head, looking at you in an almost disappointed manner. He pushed his seat back and stood up, walking back over to his desk, resting his hands on the tabletop.

"You may see them as nothing but a gang—people who are out of control or enjoy hurting others—" your mind wandered to Wraith and Maraud, "but they have done a lot to keep the people in Seoul safe."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply-" you paused, unsure how to continue. You exhaled. "I just mean, from what I have experienced, some of them aren't afraid to hurt those to get what they want."

Seokjin stood, silent. The light of the ward flickered slightly, darkening your vision for a moment. You couldn't help but think about how difficult Seokjin's life must have become since he ran. He had to stay out of sight as best he could, or he was pretending to work in a tattoo studio to make a living.

"They are better than you think they are. We fuck up, yes. But everyone does. If you give us a chance to show just how vital this mission is to us-"

Silence.

"Can you tell me about the rest of the guys then?" you whispered.

Seokjin turned to you, offering you a kind smile. He was back over to you in seconds.

"Our hacker Tech is also known as Min Yoongi. We rely on him to get us anywhere. If there is an electrical current, he can hack, disarm and disable anything in our way."

"Always helpful when you're trying to overthrow the president," you teased, lightly nudging him.

Seokjin laughed, throwing his head back. His hair fell back, revealing an undercut you hadn't noticed. You sat patiently, waiting eagerly for him to continue. He let his head fall back forward, locking eyes with you.

"Maraud, he'll torture anyone for information, as you know," Seokjin laughed awkwardly. "But his ability to inflict pain is necessary, not just on the enemy. Sometimes, when we lose who we are, we ask Maraud to bring back memories we have buried deep. He is what keeps us sane."

Your perspective on Maraud changed. He had seemed so sadistic and cruel, but deep down, he kept everyone from getting lost, guiding them back and reminding them of what they were here for.

"He goes by Jung Hoseok. And he may be our most valuable member."

"I didn't realise-" you stalled.

"How could you have? Hoseok had you tied up and was physically torturing you."

You both chuckled at the remark. You averted your eyes, letting them drop onto the bed where you fiddled with the hem on your trousers.

"Now, Siren and Mirage are a little different. They extract information like Hoseok, but instead of torture, they use persuasion. Park Jimin is Siren. You fall into some sort of trance with the slightest touch, and he can make you do anything he wants."

"Oh my God, that's why I was feeling so drowsy at the studio," you cried, moving closer to Seokjin.

He backed away slightly, chuckling and holding his hands up defensively. You muttered a quiet apology and sat back down fully.

"Yes, he was our first plan in kidnapping you when you walked in. But we needed Jungkook to fill in when you broke out of Jimin's grip."

"And I'm assuming Jungkook is Wraith?"

"Yes, yes, he is. But we'll get onto him in a moment. Mirage, whose name is Kim Taehyung, is similar to Jimin, except he can create hallucinogenic drugs. If you consume one, it can make you see anything he wants you to see. You are fully under his control."

"So you often pair them together to go on missions?" you asked.

Seokjin nodded.

"Exactly that. They also grew up together, so they are closer than anyone in the group. Jimin and Taehyung work so well together, they've never failed a mission."

"So that just leaves Jungkook," you mumbled.

"Wraith, who you now know is Jungkook. His full name is Jeon Jungkook. He is the person we trust to take out the required targets. Anyone we need dead, he'll get it done."

"Which is why he was next when Jimin couldn't get me to do what he wanted."

"Jungkook's expertise in martial arts, as well as weapon skills, is where he specialises. He was impressive before he had taken the serum. Now, he is unstoppable."

"But I was able to put up a good fight against him in his tattoo room," you explained.

"Y/n. If Jungkook were fighting you properly, he would have killed you. And he would have done so if he weren't following Namjoon's orders."

You sat, dumbstruck. You had honestly thought you had put up a good fight against Jungkook. Now knowing he could have easily killed you, made you come to the realisation that you were fortunate to be alive. Seokjin, pet your head gently.

"Get some sleep, you need to rest a little more. Considering you know everything, I'll talk to Namjoon. Try to convince him to let you help."

"I don't care how often he says no, Seokjin," you replied sharply. "I want my father dead."

The man only looked at you, nodding at your words.

"I'll see what I can do. Having you as a part of our team will be a good addition."

to be continued...

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

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tranquilreign~

[sunflowersandscreams]

gansey being an annoying little bitch (drunk edition) to adam, pissed off but lowkey (unconsciously) fagging it up for him

"Adam." Gansey pushes the door to Adam's room open. He'd knocked and knocked while Adam laid on his mattress and wished for a moment of peace, then Adam had given up and gotten up to unlock the door. Gansey's arm goes too far to one side and he sways the other way, leaning on the doorframe.

"Oh," Adam says. "You're drunk."

"I am not," Gansey says indignantly, somehow remarkably straightforward as usual. "Ronan and I… had a couple drinks."

"Of what? Straight vodka?" Adam asks, then demands, "Did you drive here?"

Gansey laughs, high and kind of breathy. It's unlike how he usually laughs, for others. "No. Ronan did."

This is not a lot more soothing. "Was Ronan drunk?"

Gansey sighs and steps into the room. He rounds Adam, leaning a hand on him for balance, and makes a half-fall onto the mattress look dignified. "No… or not quite. He's fine." Gansey waves a hand.

"I guess he can afford to wreck a car," Adam says. He doesn't think Ronan would die from something as mundane as driving while a bit tipsy. If he was to die in a car, it would be while racing against a deathwish, or while something crawled in one of his ears and scrambled his brains.

"We are going…" Gansey heaves himself up. "Somewhere… for food, I think." He considers. "We're quite out of food. There's a jar of cherries left." His face falls. "I should have eaten the cherries, I think."

Adam is lost. "So what are you doing here, then?"

"Oh, I asked to stop." Gansey reaches a hand up to Adam, entreating him. "I said I'd like to say hello." He grins brightly, hair askew, glasses a bit wonky. "Hello, Adam."

"I was asleep," Adam says, not endeared in the slightest. He kneels and looks at the edge of Gansey's glasses. Someone should fix those.

"Is it time for sleeping?" Gansey frowns. "Ah. I suppose it is dark." He turns his glower to the outside. "I would turn the sun back on, if I could." Adam knows this is true- he half-believes that Gansey could charm the planets and stars into falling into his own personal ideal configuration, if he wanted it hard enough. "Alas." He makes a sweeping, grand gesture at the small, drafty window of Adam's place.

"Go back to Ronan, Gansey." Adam swallows, wondering why Ronan didn't come up with Gansey. He couldn't be too drunk to walk up the stairs, or he wouldn't have been able to drive.

"I'm afraid I can't make the stairs." Gansey smirks and lays back over Adam's mattress, fingers trailing over the thin blanket.

"Well you can't stay," Adam says sharply, Gansey laying back on his bed doing making something flare in his gut. Anger, frustration, that Gansey could make anything look more glamorous just by proximity, even Adam's lumpy mattress lying on the rough wood of the floor.

"Why not?" Gansey blinks more slowly, like he really is falling asleep.

Adam grinds his teeth. "Gansey. Get out."

[echodoctor]

I've noticed a few people take "the Universe leads and we follow" to mean that the Northern Island's spiritual traditions were a more authoritarian kind of faith, similar to something like Catholicism- God hands down decrees and mortals must obey them.

And while that is one way you could interpret that, it's very much not the way I read it when I saw that line.

I do want to preface this by saying I am some extremely white dumbass who knows shit about this secondhand only so please take what I am about to say with not so much as grain as an entire Lot's wife worth of salt, but:

I think the followers of the Universe might have something closer to Taoism going on.

Again, this is something I'm very vague on, but I remember reading that the ideal in Taoism is essentially to be in utter harmony with the natural rhythms of the world around you, effortlessly moving with them instead of desperately struggling against the flow. The world has natural processes: night follows day, decay follows death, the tides come in and out, etc. Understand and accept those processes, and you can float through seemingly effortlessly, because the natural movements of the world are at your back and carrying you forward, instead of something you struggle against.

There's a dynamic that shows up in a lot of classical Chinese stuff between Confucianism (very concerned with things being right and correct and proper) and Taoism, where the Confucian is angrily trying to make everything Work The Way It Should and the Taoist is affectionately teasing the Confucian for getting so worked up, and is having a much easier time because they've accepted the way things already are.

Like, the Confucian walks through a lovely peach grove and keeps getting mad because the trees are shedding leaves all over the path and no one bothered to rake them off, you're supposed to be keeping these paths clear, doesn't anyone do anything around here! The Taoist just has a nice walk and enjoys the peaches, maybe catches a nice ripe tasty fruit right before it falls on the Confucian's head.

I don't think it would be a one-to-one thing, but my personal guess is that the followers of the Universe believed in something similar.

The Universe leads you, in the same way that an ocean current sweeping you out to sea is leading you. That's just the way it is, and you can either struggle against it until you tire yourself out and drown, or you can recognize what's happening and learn how to ride the current to your destination.

This could have both positive aspects (compassion and acceptance towards others, living in peace with the world instead of changing it by violence) and negative ones (sometimes the world really does need to be changed, and you don't just have to accept things that make you miserable instead of working to fix them).

We can see a lot of that negative side in both the King and Siffrin. The King urges the party to be frozen at their happiest moment, because he can't wrap his head around the idea that you could make things even better instead of just being given something and praying you don't lose it. Siffrin falls into the natural rhythm of the script, and doesn't try to fight against what feels the most correct because this is how things are, why would he believe that's something he has the power to change?

(One big difference here is that Taoism also believes that change is one of the fundamental forces, that the world is constantly changing, whereas I think the Followers of the Universe would probably be a kind of narrative foil for the House of Change in canon, just for story purposes.)

(Sometimes things need to change, and sometimes you need to accept them. A healthier outlook probably finds a good balance of both.)

When the Change God tells Siffrin that his god "will never really talk to you", I wonder if a follower of the Universe who remembered more about their beliefs could have argued back that their god never stops speaking?

Through the flight of birds, the movement of clouds, the beating of your own heart- the Universe is speaking all the time. To live is to be in constant conversation with it.

It's fun and all the think the universe is being mean to Loop and Siffrin but tbh I like to think the universe is more apathetic than actively malicious. Real "a universe that doesn't care but people do" type of deal.

The universe is hard to grasp or even personify. According to the change god the universe can't even talk to its followers. It's so massive and incomprehensible it just can't.

Like... imagine you had to do something for one of the like octillion atoms that make up your body. You don't know this thing, you don't know it's situation, not really. It's kinda hard to pay attention when you're busy being... well perpetual existence. But it becomes just loud enough to hear. Hurts just enough to feel. But instead of squashing this thing like a bug you give it a crumb and simply move on.

But that also makes the whole "The universe leads and we must follow" philosophy very hilarious. Like the universe does NOT know what the little specks on this single planet are doing just like we don't notice how our cells move around in our body.

The universe isn't leading shit. It's giving you the tools to do it yourself. It's like when you ask your mom to drive you somewhere and she just hands you the keys and says don't wreck the car, except this "mom" doesn't comprehend that its kids aren't even old enough to drive (aka can't handle godly powers like timecraft)

[moon-fics]

Hi hi! Just read your Bob Floyd x young girlfriend/wife! Reader, and I’m gagging for more! It was so perfect and suited to him, your characterisation skills are 💋 👌 (chef’s kiss)!!!! Could I please maybe request the first time all the topgun pilots meet reader, maybe like at the Hard deck? Thank you sooo much!! - LT xx

OMG, thank you so much, you're so sweet!! Ok, I can try to write for the other characters, but I cannot promise it won't be OOC bc Jake, Rooster, and Bob were my main men. I cannot do all the pilots because that would genuinely take me ages, but I can do three!

Jake Seresin

You meet Jake at the Hard Deck while out with friends.

He spots you immediately and makes you his target for the night.

However, Phoenix and Fanboy notice this just as quick. Since Jake left them hanging during training, they decided to sabotage his entire night.

When Jake goes to approach you with a drink in hand, Phoenix 'accidentally' leaves a pool stick lying around.

Jake had to spend a few minutes apologizing about his drink getting on your purse and offering to pay you back.

Thankfully, you don't yell at him, and instead help him clean your bag.

When he tries to smooth-talk you, Fanboy decides it's a perfect time to bring up when he threw up one time during training.

After an entire night of consistently foiling Jake's plan to sweep you off your feet, he decides to drop the cool guy act.

That's how you find yourself sitting at a table with him having the most wonderful conversation.

He talks about his family, his home, and how much he enjoys his job.

This actually works, and he can't help but smile at the fact that you enjoy his company. Not his job or how he looks, but who he is and what he wants in life.

This is when the tricks stop from Phoenix and Fanboy. Even they know not to ruin something like this.

By the time the bar closes, you're still chatting with him. The conversation flows perfectly, and it ends up being you who asks him out for coffee.

--

"Ok, so you didn't forget?" You ask Natasha for the fifty-first time. She rolls her eyes playfully and fixes your hair. There's a large smile on both your faces as she examines you.

"I think if I forgot, Jake would actually kill me." She laughs. You flatten out your outfit and check for wrinkles. The white fabric is just as you imagined it would be. "You look beautiful."

"You're just saying that because you still feel guilty for ruining my purse years ago," You giggle. Then, it hits you quickly. You're more than thankful for her and how she decided to get back at Jake that night. "I wouldn't be here without you."

"Hey, what about me?" Jake's voice comes from around the corner. Natasha is already stepping in his way to stop him from seeing you. "I'm not gonna. I just wanted to talk to my soon-to-be wife one last time before we're married." He remains on the other side of the wall. "I cannot believe I still paid for that purse."

Bob Floyd

Bob did not meet you at the Hard Deck. He met you while running on a trail.

He might not seem like it, but cardio is important to him and he finds nature relaxing.

You, however, were completely lost. This was a new trail for you and you knew you should have started out easy.

So, when Bob hears someone yelling from the woods, he immediately goes to help.

He finds you only a few feet from the trail, and yet you look so terrified. He can't blame you. There are so many stories of people getting lost in the woods and dying there.

He helps you back to the trail and decides to run with you. He says it's to make sure you stay safe, but it's also because you're pretty.

You don't say much because it exerts too much energy, but there's a connection there.

He visits this trail often and can point out animals he's seen before. It makes the experience much better, and you honestly enjoy having small things pointed out.

You two decide to take a break by a brook. The conversation is awkward at first, and there are a few moments of silence. That doesn't stop you from laughing at his bad jokes or asking about other animals he's seen.

By the end of the run, he asks for your number but stumbles over his words. You gladly give it to him, and thus begins a friendship that slowly grows.

After a few months of running together and spending time outside of the trails, he asks you out.

He makes a whole day of it, too. He sets up a picnic on the trail you two met at.

---

The sun is pounding on your back as you run down the trail. You decided to go alone today because Bob had errands to run. It was beautiful out and you weren't about to waste the day.

But your eyes land on a trail of flowers that were never there before. They lead up a hill that you can't see the top of. Against your better judgment, you follow them. Who knows, maybe you'll find fairies.

Once you reach the top, you notice a large sign with the question 'Will you marry me?'. You immediately assume that you've just spoiled someone else's proposal, until Bob appears next to you.

"What kind of person has a proposal in the middle of the woods?" He asks with a chuckle. You don't know why he's here or how he knew you'd be here. It catches you off guard, and you're stuck trying to think. You're stopped when he gets on one knee. "Probably some guy who is madly in love," He cracks his sweet smile.

Natasha Trace

You meet her because you steal the pool ball to her game.

You genuinely thought it was one from your table and picked it off the ground. Natasha tried to tell you, but you were adamant it was yours.

She's great at playing the long game. So, she lets you have it and watches as the game goes on. She does it with a smirk that tells all.

When you realize you have two of the same balls, your heart drops. This is humiliating because you did this to yourself.

Nervously, you turn to her and hand her the ball back. She isn't mad about it, and she accepts your apology with a laugh.

She invites you to play with her, Bob, and Hangman. You agree and find that they are great company.

Even when Hangman makes cocky comments that pisses everyone off. You can't help but connect with Natasha and almost cling to her. She's vibrant and snarky. She makes the conversation stand out.

When you return the next day to see her there again, you don't hesitate to join her. She introduces you to a few more people, but spends most of her time with you.

She brings up the pool ball story to everyone she can and revels in the way you have to explain yourself. It isn't malicious because she then talks about how she's glad it happened. Otherwise, she'd never have met you.

When you decide to ask her out, it takes a lot of courage. She's such a strong person, and her friendship means the world to you.

When you do ask her out, she acts completely surprised. She pretends she pretends as if this came out of the blue, right before saying yes excitedly.

You two moved in together rather quickly, but it slowed from there. She's not the type to rush everything and instead lets the flow take you towards the future.

--

You enter the house with groceries in hand. They're heavy and there are a lot of them, but you can manage. Your dog greets you happily and follows you into the kitchen.

"Oh, babe, you could have asked for help!" Natasha says while getting up from the couch. She instantly helps you unload the bags and put the food away. As she's reaching for the last item in the paper bag her hand grazes over a small box.

"I didn't want you to do anything on your day off," You explain.

She can feel the velvet texture and is confused as to what you could have bought. When she pulls it out, she's met with something that makes her heart race. She opens it and sees a gorgeous ring that resembles the one she joked about buying.

"Is this-?" She covers her mouth with her hand. She's never been one to cry, but right now she can feel the tears forming in her eyes. "Yes!" She laughs.

[raayllum]

Ezran spends basically every episode that features his perspective in 3/4 seasons of arc 2 doing one of three things:

Feeling responsible for his kingdom

Believing in the innate goodness of others

Trying to fix things and be a support for other people

I think points two and three are occasionally overlooked for a few reasons. The first is that Ezran has a mini arc in 4x01—4x03 (with the first two and possibly three being commonly regarded as weaker episodes) that do the heavy lifting work of establishing Ezran's post-timeskip characterization vs who he was at the beginning or ending of season 3. When we look at Ezran in 4x01 and 4x02, he's largely the same as he was post-3x02: he wants to create change, he believes that he can, and while balancing being king and being himself, he's walking the line fairly well. We see this in how jovial his initial council meeting is in 4x01: brightly lit, not too serious, Bait has a seat, jelly tarts, and the hopeful air; Zubeia's visit will change how people see dragons.

Then it doesn't. Ezran ignored Opeli's reservations (4x01, 4x03) and of others she presented anonymously. He thought they could just move past things, and he was wrong. But instead of responding with anger or force the way Soren does, Ezran switches gears, and we get his infamous speech that shows how he's changing since S3 ("if I just give people opportunities to do the right thing, they will") in comparison to S4: If I just acknowledge their feelings, they'll do the right thing, because everyone is inherently good and wants good things.

I had a speech planned for today. It was about peace and love and hope. But I think I left something out. I ignored something that was true. I denied something that is undeniable. We are angry! I am angry. I have been hurt. My Dad was killed when I was nine years old. My Mom was taken from me before I could even remember her. It hurts! I feel pain about this and I am angry! We all want peace and we all want love. [...] It’s not that easy or simple. Because people are still hurting and they are still angry. We can’t ignore that, or pretend it will go away. Somehow, we have to hold it all in our hearts at the same time. We have to acknowledge the weight of the pain and loss, but open up our eyes and allow ourselves to hope and maybe forgive and love again. We have to give today’s children a chance to inherit a future filled with peace. 

And it is a beautiful speech, but it is a very simple, well-meaning one at the same time. Not everyone, deep down, wants peace or thinks of it in the same way as you do ("You want to hate. You want to hurt someone else"); not everyone cares about their children's future (for both of these, Karim, I'm looking at you). But Ezran's initial transformation here is rewarded and reaffirmed by Zubeia.

So this is the mindset that Ezran carries on throughout arc 2, and in many ways he treats everyone the way he's treated Zubeia, someone who inflicted harm on him but did have her heart changed (circa 3x09) and who, upon having her genuine pain/grief acknowledged rather than swept under the rug (4x03), has been able to heal. Him seeing goodness in others, and working with them, has yielded results.

Therefore, at this point, Ezran believes wholeheartedly in the innate goodness of others.

People might inflict harm, but they have a good reason; they've been in pain. If I can just get through to Rex Igneous ("that's what you haven't had in forever, a surprise"), if I just explain to Akiyu and Finnegrin the stakes of what's going on, if I can barter with Karim and talk him down ("Then it's not too late, you can still choose love") then they'll see they don't have to do bad things anymore. They'll let go of their hate and choose love, just like how the crowd seemingly did in 4x03 after Ezran empathized with them through his own experiences.

And this ties into how much internalized responsibility Ezran takes on and his choices in arc 2, particularly in S4.

He spends all of 4x01 trying to give Callum a good birthday ("why aren't you celebrating?") but it doesn't work, because his brother is still in pain. He spends all of 4x03 trying to encourage good relations with Zubeia, but it doesn't work out either because people are still hurt/angry. He tries to get his brother to open up in 4x05 but is wrong, at first, about what Callum needs to open up about. He works to bring the group together in 4x06 when they're in shambles ("don't you remember who you are?") and this is his biggest success in the season thus far. He spends all of 4x08 & a chunk of 4x09 trying to reason and get through to Rex Igneous, only for it to end with him being slammed into a wall. He gets an actual dragon diplomatic success in early S5, but greatly misjudges Finnegrin; he makes a number of calls (keep the prison here, don't look for Zubeia) in 6x01 that he quickly realizes he has to go back on. In 6x07 he tries to reason with Karim, and it doesn't pan out. He fails, over and over again.

Katolis being burned down is just the last straw; it, and Ezran's efforts and failures in achieving peace, are stress points that have been building for seasons at this point.

So finally his worldview — that everyone has goodness inside them, that everyone wants peace ("You want Janai to attack!"), that everyone has good reasons for the harm they inflict — snaps.

This is before, I might add, the final vestiges of his True Heart leave him. He takes Aanya's advice of pursuing defences — pursuing weaponry ("We have to be strong enough") — before his brother's betrayal. He seeks to destroy Sol Regem and jails Runaan, who surrenders, before it, too. Part of this is because the first blow happened a long time ago. Runaan even confirms this indirectly himself, citing Ezran's eyes ("But the moment I saw your eyes" / "we each have innocent eyes to experience the world’s beauty in a simple way"): Ezran's eyes, his heart, have already been fundamentally altered, and he knows it.

EZRAN: Everything changed the day you came! You killed my father!

EZRAN: When you grow up, there are changes you don't expect, and you have to face things you're not ready for. Callum told me that. [...] But I can't run away from growing up. Now that I'm king, I have to go home.

Throughout arc 2, he's struggled more and more to retain what is left of his true heart. And this all culminates in Ezran deciding that maybe his own goodness isn't innate either. His loss of innocence — that people have good reasons for doing terrible things, that there are certain things they wouldn't do ("You're lying! Callum would never do [dark magic again]!") — mirrors Terry's crisis of faith (and his own actions) for a reason.

Ezran starts spiralling out. He feels like he's completely failed his kingdom after episodes of emphasis on just how much he cares about Katolis (4x04, 5x02, 6x01, 6x05). He no longer believes in others. He always had spades of self doubt, but we see him reach a pretty severe rock bottom out of desperation and despair because he can't even help take care of the people he loves anymore, either. All of his prior goals have crumbled around him. He's not a king ("king of what? King of ashes?"), he's not a friend, he's not a brother.

Alongside the loss of his true heart, he's not a child: "But only if you can move past your childish hesitation..." "I have never been one to hesitate" as he takes up the Nova Blade and intends to use it for — as far as he knows — permanent murder by his own direct hand.

Because the loss of your True Heart, for Ezran, is not so much about the world itself as it is the people in the world, and yourself by extension.

It upends your belief in your own moral certainty as well. Would you do something terrible for a 'good reason', and are you sure that you have one?

We are forced to make choices, compromises, sacrifices. And they change us forever.

When Ezran meets Aaravos, he's already decided that he's guilty and someone to judge; he decides that he has to kill him. That his "precision violence was preferable, necessary even, to prevent far greater bloodshed". But, of course, it isn't, not necessarily because Aaravos isn't terrible and dangerous... but because after seasons of sacrificing and compromising and making choices right alongside his friends, the Archdragons make one instead.

Just as Terry helps reaffirm to Ezran that people still care and can still change, the Archdragons help build him a more solid foundation. Not everyone wants peace and love and forgiveness. Not everybody can. Forgiveness and goodness are not automatically inherent in adulthood, but that doesn't mean they can't exist. That doesn't mean you stop trying.

It just means that you try despite it. They are not dreams. They're choices. Sacrifices. Compromises. They change us forever, and they're worth it.

[the-hwaelweg]

If the literal writers of the literal show are bringing a fuck-it attitude, I don't see why I can't too. So.

Hwaelweg's Vision of Season 9 That Absolutely Isn't Going to Happen and Is Very Silly but Still Will Somehow Be More Reasonable Than Whatever the Actual Writers Do

Open with a time jump, but surprise bitches, it's backwards this time. We're now between Chim's rousing speech at the firehouse and the let's-shove-all-the-emotional-beats-into-five-minutes montage. (Sorry Eddie, I can't fix the El Paso/Chris situation handling, but we'll get you your juice at least).

Chim's serving as captain, though is finding the job increasingly stressful as Maddie's pregnancy progresses (insert the arc they seemed to be setting up for Maddie about a second pregnancy and her PPD here), and we see Hen stepping up and helping a lot with captainy stuff and realizing maybe she does want it after all.

Buck, Eddie, and Chris are all living together in Bedford Street. (Insert Buddie arc of choice here, though for my vision it's got to result in Buck thinking he needs to move out and looking at places at some point.)

Then the meat of it: Athena is working a case (how? why? listen if the actual writers can't be bothered to care, neither can i) involving a baby mix-up at a local hospital. The mix-up ends up being the "solution" and Athena is somehow reminded of the woman's case from 8.16 (maybe she runs into her somewhere). She reopens the case and manages to discover that there was a mix-up at the hospital ten years ago. So Mom B did steal the baby and set the fire, but it was her biological baby to begin with, hence passing the DNA test (maybe even why she stole the baby to begin with, she found out it was her bio kid).

Meanwhile, this whole episode, Athena's been getting weird phone calls, just sort of crackly static, can't make out what they're saying. Or hey, maybe even calls that her cell says are from Bobby's phone, which is when she realizes she never got Bobby's phone returned to her.

End of the first ep, we get this dead kid storyline resolved (again and properly) and at the very end, Athena gets another call, only in this one it's very clearly Bobby's voice just saying her name before the line goes dead again.

Episode 2 we have an actual parallel to 8.16, redeeming it from it's position of worst episode in the history of television. Athena thinks at first she's going crazy, but she gets more of these calls where she can kind of hear Bobby and starts to think he's actually alive; when she tries to get the 118 on board, they start to think she's finally crashing out from grief, but eventually she convinces them. Maddie is able to triangulate a call with special call center software magic, and they find out he's being held at some sort of government lab/hospital.

Insert, I don't know, some sort of heist/confrontation/storming the bastille with the end result being we find out Bobby's alive, possibly with amnesia of some sort, doesn't remember who he is but does remember Athena. But there was some sort of mix-up on the government's end with him and someone else, who did die, which is the body they sent Athena to bury. Also he's being kept underground with shitty cell service and he has to keep sneaking phone charge somehow, which is why the calls were so weird.

Then the rest of the season we get the montage moments and previously set-up character plotlines played out. I do think it makes sense Athena sold the house pre-S9; that's one of the few things that worked for me in that montage, so we'll leave that as is. But we get Maddie's pregnancy. We get Mara's adoption (which is it's whole own episode). We get a Buddie arc, where Buck thinks he needs to look for a new place but Eddie CHOOSES to ask him to stay (my god let this man choose something). Since this is my headcanon, we get Eddie and Chris having a conversation at the very least about the whole El Paso situation (though I also maintain that whole thing was so stupid, I'm not sure what I'd even want that convo to be [even if El Paso was a beautiful font of fic for me]). Ravi gets an arc. Bobby decides to retire (or stay retired, given that he was legally dead); most of Bobby's shenanigans revolve around trying to get legally declared NOT dead. As Maddie's due date approaches, Chim decides to step down as captain, and Hen decides to accept the role this time (listen, I do think Chim would be a good captain, but not at the expense of Hen). Also Hen gets a whole other arc, something that doesn't involve the trauma of losing/almost losing her kids OR someone dying on her watch.

Then depending on timing, Maddie gives birth either at the mid-season finale or season finale and we get that final piece of the montage, only this time we find out Bobby's parking the car or something, which is why Athena walks in alone. The baby's probably still named Bobby, but dear lord we're dropping the "Nash" as a middle name. Please, he's only just been born, let's not tie so many lodestones around his neck so soon!

[giotanner]

911 – analyzing 8x18, buddie, rushed and poor writing choices

I'm a Buddie shipper, but rationally what really bothered me—and what I want to analyze—is that they built a series of episodes pointing toward something, only to walk it all back:

Buck searching for his place in the world. Then in the final episode, he STILL doesn't know what to do. He wants to transfer to another station (which could have been initial angst, but it all got lost in nothingness), everything is heartbreaking, he's lost his motivation, and EVEN Eddie’s house—where he at least found comfort, whether you see it as friendship or romantic interest—is no longer a safe space for him. He's lost his foundation, his mentor, almost lost Eddie (who only stays because Chimney tells him to, not out of his own decision), and now he’s left completely alone.

Eddie... what are we even talking about? I know some people hate him because they ship Tommy with Buck (and I don’t understand the hate—especially since some talk about abuse without knowing what it really means), but he’s one of the best characters on the show and has been so abandoned that he wasn’t even present in crucial episodes. They fixed this somewhat with the penultimate episode AND in this one, which would have been a great episode if they hadn’t shown Chimney being the one to “make Eddie reconsider coming back to the 118.” What’s the point of Eddie looking at flights to El Paso? He arrives and saves the day like Captain America, like a true deputy captain, and then there isn’t even a moment for Buck and Eddie to talk and say, “I think you’d be lost without me!” to imply he’s staying with the 118. It would have taken so little, honestly. Instead, they took the decision out of his hands and gave it to others.

In summary: Buck has regressed, Eddie has regressed, nothing has been resolved since 8x01, and if we analyze the emotions, we could say Buck as an individual is in a worse place than before. Same for Eddie. There’s no victory for anyone who ships Bi!Buck with someone, no victory for those who expected a strong season finale, just five rushed episodes condensed into four minutes with a song montage. And Bobby is dead. Just like that, without meaning