#like if they pull next episode off i really think it could be great

[dandelionlwt]

y’know from an objective point of view i think this was a really interesting episode and i am intrigued to see what happens next week but from a overly emotionally attached to the blorbos pov i’m going thru it lads

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Drive all Night

(A/N): This is inspired by the song "Call your mom" by Noah Kahan.

Summary: Max is worried about the sudden shift in his best friends behavior. But he is willing to drive all night to get to the root of the problem.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader (little childhood friends to lovers on the side with angst/hurt to comfort)

Warnings: Association to Max's shitty childhood, reader has depression/a depressive episode, implicit mentions of suicide, listen to the song and you get the vibe

Wordcount: 2.4k

🏎Masterlist🏎 ________________________

Max Verstappen is not a big worrier. Actually, he is no worrier at all.

When there is something to worry about, he just changes it. If he can’t change it, it’s out of his area of responsibility, so he doesn’t have to worry about it.

Thinking like that helped him focus through great challenges. But his mindset wasn’t the only motivator. Through all his highest highs and lowest lows, his best friend has been right next to him, either cheering him on or being the shoulder to cry on he just needed.

(Y/N) and him befriended each other in kindergarten, having felt this unexplainable pull to each other. Ever since playing with Legos together for the first time they had been inseparable if they could help it.

Of course, as they got older and Max’s career in karting took off and (Y/N) had to focus more on school, they started to shift to calling and texting more than relying on in person talking. But that didn’t stop them staying best friends. One might even argue that through their 24/7 updates to each other, they grew even closer.

Meeting in person in their adulthood had become increasingly easier. Sometime (Y/N) travels with Max to several races back to back, being blessed with a remote working job.

The young man starts to suspect something isn’t going smoothly during one of their daily face time calls with her being in her dark bedroom and him in a hotel room halfway across the world. “But enough of how annoying these marketing things are. What did you do today? Except for work of course.” Max just finished another yapping season about the last challenge the social media teams had him participate in.

(Y/N) just shrugs her shoulders while focusing on a loose thread in her shirt. “Nothing much. I reread pride and prejudice.” Max halts a bit in his rummaging through his suitcase, being on the look out for his charger. “I thought you had plans for lunch with a friend? And didn’t you read through that book last week already? You do know that no matter how often you read it, the ending will stay the same.” He jokes a bit.

While still not shifting her gaze towards the phone screen, (Y/N) answers in mumbles. “I canceled on her. I really felt icky today, but we will try to set up another meet up some time next week or so.”

At first Max doesn’t think of it as much. Everyone feels not like socializing every one in a while. But then something else changes. The frequency of their calls and texts.

“...here we can do- Max? Are you even listening to me?” Max gets caught off guard by that question. GP was going over some points with him before starting FP2. “Oh, uhm, sorry GP. Gimme three seconds, I just want to reply to (Y/N). It seems like she didn’t have a great day and I just want to make sure she’ll be alright until I’m out of the car.”

This makes his race engineer raise his eyebrows. “Oh, what happened?” “I don’t know. But she is rewatching one of her comfort shows for the third time in two weeks.” He blinks at the Dutchman. “And in what way is that concerning?”

Okay, voicing his worrisome thoughts out loud like that makes Max realize that the signs are not too obvious for outsiders. But he is talking about his best friend. The person that always makes sure that he won’t go without his needed amount of sleep. The same person he had been having phone calls that resulted in four out of the last seven nights with him getting not more than 5 hours of sleep, if that at all.

For an outsider it doesn’t seem bad for (Y/N) to reread the same books and rewatch the same shows over and over again. Or having her best friend, the person she became emotionally most dependent on, talk with her through her nights.

But for Max, it raises red flags. It hits his alarm bells, ringing out loud that something is majorly wrong. He can’t put his finger on it, not just yet. He is still looking for a way to get her to tell him what is bothering her.

There is a certain uneasiness to Max during that entire race weekend. He is just itching to seat his ass on a plane on his way back to his (Y/N), a friend that he might harbor more than just platonic feelings for. A person that had his back all the time.

To the person he loves the most, that is also struggling the most right now.

He wants to be able to pay her back for all the times she stuck through his darkest times.

But something in him is scared that he isn’t able to get to her in time. “Didn’t you want to go out with a colleague of yours for drinks last night?” Max asks into the phone while speed walking through the airport. Ever since leaving his hotel room on this fine Monday morning, he has been on a phone call with (Y/N).

A sigh greets his ears. “I wanted to, but I didn’t feel like dressing up or sharing a space with a bunch of strangers. I just ordered some food in and watched your race.”

There is another red flag. (Y/N) maybe was never a big socializer to begin with, but she liked going out every now and then. But for a couple of weeks now the only thing Max gets to hear about plans is that she canceled them.

Listening to her just cutting contact with the outside world like that, it doesn’t only worry him. It’s not even scary. It terrifies him.

The two of them continue talking the whole plane ride until (Y/N) falls asleep. Even then Max doesn’t hang up. He still lets the call continue, not wanting her to wake up and feel alone. She doesn’t deserve to feel alone.

No one does. But especially not her.

When he was in karting, some kids gave him grief for winning most of the time. It was difficult for little Max to understand. So do people not want him to win?

It became more confusing to him since some people around him wanted him to win desperately. It hurt him, not understanding the difference of who wanted his best and who wanted to see him fail.

He felt isolated from his peers, especially those who should understand under what pressure he was, because they must feel the same. Right?

During these days, where he rather stopped driving in circles in a very fast manner and just continued playing football, (Y/N) was his only footing. She talked him out of ending his career in motorsport. She painted a picture of his future in the prettiest colors with her words. She gave him something to look forward during these trying times.

And when it got harder before it got easier, she held his hand and reminded him that she will always stay by his side.

Now it’s Max’s turn to show her that he will always stay by her side.

He opens the door to her apartment slowly, trying to make the least noise possible.

Every room is shrouded in what must feel to her like a never ending darkness. The blinds are drawn in front of every window, hindering the tiniest bit of sunlight to filter through. Even to Max it feels like the despair that is in the air will never stop. It is all consuming.

He tiptoes towards her bedroom. There she lays, illuminated by the low light of his phone screen. Curled up tight under a bunch of blankets and between a mountain of pillows and stuffed animals.

The MV lion, the first one that has ever been produced, the original prototype before giving the go for mass production, is held tightly and close to her chest. It pulls on his heartstrings, seeing the comfort it must have brought her while he was absent.

Max kneels down at the head of the bed, gently shaking her awake. “Schatje, come on. Wake up. We got a day of new adventures just in front of us outside the door.”

It’s something they started to say in elementary school. They once read a book in class with the premise that every day is the start to a new adventure. You just have to welcome it in. Back then, when inviting something unknown in your life was considered exciting, not scary or life changing.

“The adventures can wait a day longer.” She mumbles and turns around, trying to shake his hand on her shoulder off. But Max is having none of it.

“The darkness is fooling you. Every light that has been turned off can be turned on.” He gets up and opens the blinds. Sunlight floods the room, and even at the messiest state the young man has seen his best friend, she still is the most beautiful woman on earth to him

(Y/N) lets out a noise of unpleasantness. “Please Max, I can’t deal with it today.”  “No, you will. We are going to deal with it, whatever this it is, together.” He marches over to her dresser and produces a clean set of clothes out of thin air. That is what it looks like to her in this mess at least.

“You are going to shower. After that we will take a drive with no destination.” His words are final and in a tone that makes the young woman drag her limbs and body out of the bed and trudge towards the bathroom, even when the unwillingness is evident by her groaning.

Hearing the shower is Max’s cue to sit down and take a deep breath. He doesn’t know what he expected, but seeing the light of life missing in (Y/N)’s eyes isn’t on that list. It feels like a punch to his gut, witnessing her wither away without knowing from what.

It doesn’t take long and they both sit in the car. A drive without destination is exactly what it says. Just Max driving with (Y/N) sitting in the passenger seat. Usually they used these trips to catch up, to talk about everything and nothing. To voice big philosophical thoughts and dumb brain farts. They started this tradition, that usually includes some sort of fast food, when Max got his drivers license.

But sitting in complete silence for five minutes straight. That is something new.

“You know,” Max breaks it after another seven minutes. “Not talking about it won’t make the problem go away. It also doesn’t hinder it in its existence. Instead it will just get heavier and heavier until you break under the weight.” His dry tone isn’t something she anticipated.

(Y/N) looks out the window, seeing the colorful sunset for the first time in weeks. It’s easy to forget the beauty of the world when your inside thoughts feel like a graveyard. “I don’t want to worry you.”

That admission nearly has the Dutchman emergency breaking in the middle of a street through the fields. “So you play cat and mouse with your feelings because you don’t want to worry me?” (Y/N) nods.

Max lets out a laugh. “So what exactly makes you think that me witnessing you just becoming a shell of who you once were won’t worry me?”

She shrugs. (Y/N) didn’t expect him to catch that something feels wrong in her.

“Schatje. I will always worry about you, You are too important to me to not worry about you. Seeing you wither away in yourself, it made me scared going out on these tracks, sitting down in the car, and wondering if you still breathe while I’m driving another mile. Not knowing what you feel, that worries me more than the truth. Because then we can work on getting you better together. But when you don’t let me in, I can’t help and feel like by just standing and witnessing without intervening that I’m at fault for anything that happens to you. It hurts more seeing you hurting than knowing what you hurt from.”

She turns towards Max, mustering his side profile. She hasn’t thought about how her actions are perceived by her surroundings. (Y/N) just fell into that hole of darkness unexpectedly. While sitting at the bottom of that somber pit, she thought that trying to reach out for help would mean another person gets pulled into it.

If there was one person she doesn’t want sitting next to her in that dark hole, then it is Max. She harbors too much love and affection for him to want him to suffer the same fate as her. So not talking about her darkest thoughts seemed like the best way of keeping him far away from the hole.

But it just drew him in closer.

(Y/N) finally sees what he saw the whole time.

“You know, it’s hard to explain what happened. It takes time to really understand what goes on in me right now.” Max puts a reassuring hand on her leg. “We have all night to talk about it. Help me help you. Let us find a strategy to get you better. May it be medication, meditation, punching me or falling in love with someone. I need you to find a reason to stay with me, physically and mentally.”

She puts a hand over hers and looks Max in the eye for the first time since he arrived. “I already fell in love.”

He doesn’t need to hear more.

Max keeps his promise. He drives through the night, holding (Y/N) to the best of his ability while she cries, curses and explains.

By that not everything is picture perfect again. But it’s the first step. The first one to a future they both want to share with each other. For now and ever, that is enough motivation for (Y/N) to keep going, to continue turning every light on that was off.

[indiefilmfatale]

go ahead, touch yourself (steve harrington x afab gn reader)

gif by disdaidal ^ plot: you and steve are new roommates and are still establishing boundaries content warnings: graphic language, masturbation, fingering, oral (reader receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, steve loves getting his hair pulled word count: 2.8k a/n: based off of some djo lyrics that make me absolutely feral... as well as this gif..... i'm losing my sanity over this fcking man takes place between s3 and s4! taglist: @cuddlingwithharry (send me an ask be to added to a taglist!)

You were standing in front of your full length mirror. Your eyes scanned up and down yourself in contemplation, brow slightly scrunched.

You hear a pair of footsteps pass your room. "Steve can you come here for a sec?" You call, and the footsteps stop. You watch your doorknob twist and the door open at a medium pace; by the time Steve's whole figure appears on the other side he's putting a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He was in a crewneck and cotton basketball shorts

"We're out of Cheerios if that's what you're about to ask." He says with his mouth full.

You chuckle, brow furrowing. "What? No."

"Oh, okay, what's up?" He walks in immediately and sits on your bed, taking another bite with a small slurp.

You turn to face him, holding your arms out out awkwardly next to you. "What do you think of this outfit?" You asked with genuine concern.

"Um," Steve's head tilts, properly scanning you. "Turn for me."

You can't help but feel a little embarrassed as you turn around until you face him again. He nods slowly, chewing, looking like he's really thinking about it. Until his face relaxes, "Yeah I don't know why I told you to turn I have no idea if that's a good outfit or not."

"UGH, Steve!" You groan. "I really need your help! I'm fucking nervous!"

His head cocks back in confusion, "Why?"

You sigh, "I'm going on a date, okay? And it's my first one since Jessie fucking," You swallow. "Broke my heart, so," You turn back to your reflection and look yourself in the eye. "I don't know, maybe I shouldn't go."

"Y/N, it's been two months since that asshole kicked you out of his apartment. You should go." You heard Steve from behind you. He takes another bite. "Seriously."

You contemplate his words. You had spent those two months in and out of a depressive episode. Luckily you had found a cheap enough place to move to after a week staying in Nancy's basement, but you could only stretch it with a roommate. Steve, who had still been living in under the roof of his asshole dad, gladly agreed. But moving just gave you a bigger space to wallow in. You hadn't even started unpacking anything besides your pajamas and your work clothes until about an hour ago.

"So my outfit is okay, then?" You ask him, meeting his eyes through the reflection of the mirror.

Steve offers a sheepish smile, "Again, no idea." He sighs. You can't help but chuckle this time. "But you look great."

You and Steve stare at each other through the mirror, both of you seemingly holding something back. You clear your throat and turn around, facing him again. "Okay, get out now, I have to jerk off."

Steve's whole body jolts at your words. "What?"

"That's what you do before a date, so the sexual tension doesn't overwhelm the evening." You tap your head with your finger. "So you can think."

Steve chortles; he thinks you're joking. He seems to be frozen sitting on your bed, holding his mostly-empty cereal bowl on his thigh, staring at you as you stare back at him expectingly. "Oh my god, you're serious?" He laughs in astonishment. "You jerk off?"

You crossed your arms, "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Uh, I mean," His eyes wander the ceiling. "I guess not. I just, I don't know, can't really picture you doing it."

You pursed your lips, "Then don't, weirdo."

Steve laughs again, but this time much more forced. The energy has suddenly shifted in the room but neither of you can describe how. Steve's still just sitting there.

"He's gonna be here in like 30 minutes, Steve–"

"Fine, fine," He throws his arms up in surrender, holding the bowl at the right angle so it doesn't spill. He stands and makes his way to your bedroom door, using his free hand to shut it.

You catch a glimpse of his face just as the door closes over it, and hear him mumble something that sounded like "Have fun." in a monotonous tone.

Steve sat on his bed, empty cereal bowl on his nightstand, staring at the wall. He didn't really know what to do with himself.

He could go into the living room and watch TV, but that would mean passing your bedroom door. And he really didn't want you to hear him walk past your door, knowing that he knew what you were doing, and think he was some kind of pervert.

Still, his mind kept wandering back to your room, your eyes, your fingers. His brow furrows as he swallows. He couldn't tell if he was thankful or spiteful the walls to the apartment were so thick.

But then he starts thinking about what you would sound like, and oh god, he's hard now. Why had he never thought about you like this before? Steve can't think of a good enough answer.

He waits for you to leave for your date to get in the shower and jerk off. But when he does, you're the only thing on his mind. Your fingers pulsing in and out of your entrance, becoming damper from your own arousal. He imagine it's your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him, as you touched yourself. Then he thought about you feeling yourself get wetter because you were stroking him, and he's done for.

He cums from that thought alone. The shower water hitting his chest, his jaw hanging open, low moans echoing throughout the bathroom. One hand presses firmly onto the tile wall beside him for support, the other finishes himself off into the shower drain.

He washes himself down and gets out of the shower. Throwing a towel around his waste, he combs his hair back in the mirror. When he opens the door, he nearly falls backward at the sight of you standing in the hallway.

"Y/N, what the fu-" He catches himself and stands up straight, hand gripping his towel to keep it wrapped around him. "How– What– Um," He stutters, then clears his throat. "What are you doing here?"

"I bailed on the date." You say, your eyes struggling not to wander downward from Steve's face. You point at the bathroom, "Were you...?" You trail.

Steve decides to play it cool. "Was I what?"

You meet his eye, and you sense a twinge of panic that makes you hold yourself back from embarrassing him. You already knew the answer. "Nothing," You drop your hands to your side. "I'm gonna go to bed."

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but holds himself back as he watches you turn around toward your bedroom. He sighs, "Goodnight."

You glance at him from over your shoulder for only a second, "Goodnight, Steve."

About two hours had passed and neither you or Steve had gotten an ounce of sleep. Steve had spent it swimming in embarrassment, trying to think of the perfect thing to say to you when he sees you the next morning– trying to erase the thought that you heard him jerking off in the shower.

Meanwhile, you replayed the moment in your mind over and over. Your core twinging at the very memory if his muffled moans from the bathroom.

You didn't want to bail on your date, and you wouldn't have if you hadn't idiotically told Steve you were going to masturbate before you did. You and Steve never talked about stuff like that, which was probably why he was so surprised when you had mentioned it.

And when you lied down to do it, hand slipping into the jeans you had just asked his opinion for, you tried to excite yourself about your date. Peter was really cute, and you two had a tangible amount of chemistry. But for some reason, your mind kept going back to how sweaty Steve had gotten just a moment ago.

You weren't blind. You knew you were attracted to Steve. But he was Steve– He was basically a brown Labrador in a polo shirt. And he was one of your best friends.

But these salient points tend to cloud in the heat of passion. Steve was what got you to the finish line– you couldn't help but imagine if his fingers were down your underwear, fingering you senselessly as you writhed under his touch. You came quicker than you usually do.

That made it pretty hard to focus on anyone else. You realized this as you waited outside for Peter, but couldn't bring yourself to think of anyone beside Steve. Why had you never thought about him like this before?

You checked your watch, 7:48. You could probably still catch Peter at his house. You rushed to the payphone outside your apartment building, made up some excuse about feeling under the weather, and went upstairs.

Steve doesn't hear you walk into the apartment, even though the door is cracked open a smidge. You only start to hear the shower running when you get to the hallway. And then a low echo of a grunt.

You freeze in your place, stomach dropping to the floor.

The grunts turn into breathy moans, and you can't move. Your mouth agape, you feel your breath become shallow. Arousal is pooling at your entrance now as you hear Steve reach his climax.

You press your back against the hallway wall and catch your breath. And then you realize what you were doing and let out a silent chuckle. You should go back to your room, pretend you never heard a damn thing. But part of you wants to face this head on. You haven't felt this brave in months.

And then the door opens, and you see his face flush with embarrassment, and you chicken out.

But your mind is still there, in the hallway, even though you are now lying in your dark room in silence. You should go talk to him, you thought to yourself. That's what adults do about these things, they talk them through.

Steve hears your door open and soft footsteps stop outside his bedroom. He can see the shadow of your legs from the crack above the floor. He stands up.

"Steve?" You say softly, a gentle knock on the white wood of his door.

Steve opens the door, and you meet eyes. You open your mouth to speak, but the words get caught on your throat. Part of you is trying to find something, anything, to say. Another part of you is losing yourself in Steve's eyes. His hair is a little disheveled and he doesn't have a shirt on, just a pair of sweatpants.

There was nothing you wanted to say, you realize. You just wanted him.

So instead of talking, you leap forward, grab his face by both cheeks and bring it to yours. His arm wraps around your back, taken aback by the kiss for only a second before leaning into it. You push Steve backward and shut his door behind you.

The kiss grows more passionate by the second, sloppy and open mouthed. When Steve's tongue slides against yours, you moaned. A whiny, soft sound that sent a rush of blood straight to Steve's groin. You wrap your arms around Steve's neck, pulling him even closer.

God, he was a good fucking kisser. He put all of his focus into it, devouring you, moving his mouth against yours in a way that left you breathless. You could feel his hard-on against your stomach.

"I want you, Steve," You whined against his lips. "I want you inside me."

Steve, speechless and panting, nodded. He kissed you again, this time guiding you toward his bed until the mattress hits the back of your knees. He tugged at the hem of your shirt and you lifted your arms to pull it over your head. He palms one of your boobs as he kisses down your neck.

You take the opportunity to reach down and palm him through his sweatpants. You can tell he's not wearing underwear. He groans against your collarbone, his hot breath hitting your skin and giving you goosebumps.

He unbuttons your jeans and pushes them down your thighs. You pull away from him and sit on his bed, lifting your legs so he can tug them off. He tosses them to the floor, then wraps his fingers under the hem of your underwear and pulls those down your legs too. You watch him stare at your cunt with a hunger you've never seen in your best friend before.

"C'mere," You nudge your head in his direction. His gaze meets your's again and he kneels on his bed. You spread your legs so he could sit between them. He leans forward, using his arms to hold himself over you, and kisses you again. Still just as hungry and desperate, if not more so.

You feel a hand snake down to your core, as Steve begins to spread your arousal up and down your folds. You shudder at the touch, moaning against his lips. He pulls back from the kiss, "Is this okay?"

His fingers brush your clit and your breath hitches. "Mmhm," Is all you can manage to get out.

Then he pulls his hand away. Your eyes open to see what he's doing– He grabs your own hand resting on his bicep and guides it downward. "Touch yourself," Steve kisses your shoulder. "I wanna see what you like." He kisses your collarbone.

Your fingers rub your swollen clit, quickly getting lost in the sensation. Eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. Steve kisses your stomach, your hip, the inside of your thigh.

When you open your eyes he's resting on his stomach between your thighs, face hovering over your cunt. You continue making wide, sloppy circles around your bead.

Then you feel a finger pump into you and you gasp, "F-Fuck, Steve."

Steve kisses your hand as you work over yourself. He adds another finger and you're in heaven, head falling backward as his fingers filled you. Then you feel his tongue snake between your fingers, right on your bundle of nerves.

His tongue replacing your fingers, you bring your hand to his hair. And when his tongue touches your sweetest point, you pull hard on his thick brown locks, earning a moan from him against your skin.

Steve takes note of the spot and begins to suck, his lips wrapping around your clit in the most perfect way. You pull even harder on his hair and he sucks even tighter. His fingers curve upward slightly and your eyes squeeze shut as you cum, drawn-out and ragged moans spilling from your lips.

Your pussy is convulsing around his fingers, and he maintains his pace until you come down from your high. When he brings his face back to you, his lips are swollen and his cheeks flushed. You kiss him, tasting your own arousal.

Without breaking the series of kisses, you pull his sweatpants down. His cock springs upward as the waistband frees it, and you begin to pump him half-heartedly, distracted by his tongue dipping into your mouth.

Steve pulls away and guides his hips to meet your entrance. When he pushes into you, it's slow and dragged out, bottoming you out and filling you to the brim. Steve moans as he pulls back, and the sound sends you into a spiral again. You can feel yourself wanting him more and more by the second.

You clench around him as he pumps into you again, and Steve's head tilts downward to watch himself sink into your pussy. "You feel so fucking good, Y/N." He says as he looks back up at you.

You grab his face and pull him into another kiss. His lips trail to your cheeks to your neck, as he starts to go at faster pace. You dig your hands into his hair and grip harder with each thrust. Steve moans against your neck, hot breath hitting your skin.

You reach down to rub your clit the same way you did before, and you feel Steve's back hunch so he can watch your fingers. "Love seeing you–" He grunts, hips moving faster. "Fucking touch yourself, shi-it."

You feel another high coming just as his thrusts become sloppier. Your back arches under him as your second climax washes over you, your moans getting more and more desperate.

Steve tenses as he cums inside of you. You hold onto him as he twitches and shudders, his thrusts gradually coming to a hault.

He rolls off of you and collapses next to you in the bed. The two of you take a moment to catch your breath. You look at him, and can't help but find him beautiful like this. Caked in a layer of sweat, hair spiking in different directions, mouth agape as he breathed.

Then he catches you staring, and without missing a beat, says, "We should've done that years ago."

[lonepantheress]

♡ txt binge-watching shows w/ their s/o

pairing: ot5!txt x reader

genre: LOL CRACK? fluff i guess

warnings: unserious-ness

a/n: my first try at headcanons......

Yeonjun

like Gossip Girl or PLL or something.

he seems like the kind of person to be really pissed at moments with shitty writing and you’d have to remind him that he eats it up every time.

omg, and he’d start arguments with you about hypotheticals HE MADE based on the show.

like, “y/n, what if me and you met again after 15 years and had kids but we were both single and eligible and hot. what would you do?” “yeonjun, i have no idea. it depends.” “oh, okay. you hate me then?”

he’d be so flip-floppy too. just agreeing with you to agree with you.

“omg.. she’s such a bitch. I hate her.” “I actually really like her character.” “no, yeah, me too. she’s so cool, i love her.”

then when you guys are having real-life drama, he’d get all frustrated about whatever's going on and be like, “this is just like when serena and blair had to fight with georgina.” and you’re like “yes, exactly!”

he’s sweet though, he’d side with whoever YOU’RE siding with just so you guys could have a bonding moment LOL. your faves are his faves (as far as you know..)

Soobin

ok so it is established that he is a weeb

I feel like he would turn on those animes that are like 700 eps and mostly filler and be like, “this is one of my faves!”

and then you can’t complain because he just said it’s one of his faves…

he would try to meet in the middle though and find some that you might also be into

keyword: try

he’d pull out the most obscure show on the most sketchy website with the most incorrect subtitles and be like, “no, y/n, i swear it’s super good.”

and then you give it a chance, and you ask him to explain it.

and he explains it pretty well, but when you ask again he’s getting all emotional about SOMETHING that’s going on and you’re like “???? why…”

you guys will find your fave though and it’s so sweet bc it’s something you guys really look forward to.

you won’t look at spoilers or watch ahead or anything like that. HE TAKES IT LIKE SUPER SERIOUSLY.

and then you guys will get all emotion together and it’s super cute. 

Beomgyu

RuPaul's Drag Race

or like Love Island or the Bachelor or something.

would get super invested in the drama and take sides and everything.

I feel like if you liked someone he didn’t, he would take it personally and be like “BUT WHY???”

he’d fancy himself a prediction god and try to make bets on who will win and who will end up with who.

his real talent is consistently being wrong.

like “WATCH - this time i’m right!”

and then they’re out by, like, the third episode.

or when someone has a really funny or flirty conversation, he’d point to the screen and be like, “Us,” “Omg, that’s so us…” “Why is this lowkey us?”

he’d be DEVASTATED when his faves do not succeed. 

it was clear they’d lose their challenge or whatever but he’s like “WTF????”

but would laugh in your FACE if your faves got eliminated

Taehyun

a show that really takes dedication to watch.

like Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead or Breaking Bad, or something

he would lowkey be pissed off if you watched an episode or two without him, or read spoilers online. 

but then he would accidentally spoil stuff for you and watch episodes without you so…

I could sort of see this going two different ways

he’s like super invested in it and is dead silent throughout the episode, barely looking away from the screen

or he’s watching and he’s like, “oh, she’s for sure gonna die.” and you’re like, “what? no!” and then she dies five mins later.

then he treats the end of the episode like a podcast and talks to you for like an hour about why the characters did what they did, and what you guys think is gonna happen next. 

kind of sweet cuz he would act uninterested at first and then become the most invested.

Kai

those cooking shows, but the ones where they’re really nice to each other.

like the Great British Baking Show, that show is so low pressure….

the contestants would be casually describing some incredibly complex dessert they’re making and he would go, “babe, we could definitely do that.”

no, you definitely could not!

you guys would confidently suck at making predictions, but you suck together! how cute!

“omg those are the cutest cakes ever! She has to come on top this episode!” “no, for sure. she’s been so consistently good!”

and then judging time comes and the cakes are bland, falling apart, undercooked, and burned at the same time. 

and you two are like, “oh…”

he would also suddenly turn into a baking expert, like when someone is doing their thing he would yell at the screen.

“oh my god. too much salt! NOOOO, TOO MUCH SALT!” and you need to tell him to calm tf down.

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xii

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: Tara's out. Reader gets an unwanted and unexpected visitor.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder.

word count: 3.8k

a/n: :0 who could it be??? thanks as always for all the love, let me know your theories (and what you want to see next)!!

Since that unfortunate incident in the living room, you and Tara have been hiding out in her bedroom. 

Well you’re hiding out, unable to get past the mortification.  The look on Sam’s face as she’d seen the two of you. The hushed lecture she’d given you both the morning after. Tara, as usual, doesn’t think she’s done anything wrong, but she goes where you go, and tonight, that’s curled up under her covers watching an episode of Ancient Aliens. 

You’re perfectly content, wrapped up in Tara’s arms, until you hear a long rapt on the door. It’s Sam, presumably. She’s taken to knocking profusely before entering any room.

Tara’s bedroom especially. 

“What?” Tara calls out. Sam’s voice sounds through the wood of the door, a little muffled. 

“Is everybody decent?” 

“No.” Tara says, deadpanned, “We’re having wild, passionate sex, don’t come in.”

Sam pauses. 

You whack her, lightly. 

“You’re fine Sam, we’re fully clothed.” You call out. 

Tara shoots you a look but you ignore her, watch as Sam hesitantly steps into the room. 

“Richie got Clue from the house. Do you guys want to join us for a game?”

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

You and Tara both say at the same time. It earns her another smack. 

“We’ll be down in five,” You tell her, voice syrupy sweet. You’ve been doing that lately, being extra nice to Sam. Trying to make up for your girlfriend’s utter lack of respect. 

Sam nods, closes the door behind her.

“What did you do that for?” Tara groans, “Now we’ll be stuck with them all night.” 

“You need to start being nicer to your sister.” You tell her, stand and tug at her hand, “She’s making a real effort. And we still have some groveling to do.”

“You can grovel all you like, unless you can erase memories I think that one will stick with her for a while.” She grins like she’s proud of herself. 

You smack her again. 

“And whose fault is that?”

“Ow.” She rubs her forearm, eyes wide with outrage, “Stop hitting me.” 

“Stop being an idiot and I’ll stop hitting you.” You tell her, hold out your hand. She takes it with great reluctance, scoots herself off the bed, “Now what are we going to go downstairs and do?” 

“Be nice to Sam,” Tara grumbles.  

“And Richie.” You remind her. She goes quiet. 

“Tara. He’s fine.” 

“He’s creepy,” Tara complains, “I just get a bad vibe from him. And Sam can do so much better-” 

“Drop it.” You chide. You reach for her hand, interlock your fingers, “You’re going to be nice to Sam and you’re going to be nice to Richie. All night. Please?” 

She really looks like she wants to argue. Instead, she pulls you into her, presses a long kiss to your cheek. 

“Fine. But only for you.” 

-

“It’s Colonel Mustard. In the study. With the knife.” 

Richie’s eyes glint. Tara huffs beside you as Sam reaches for the small yellow packet in the middle of the table. 

“Sam, don’t. It’s been two rounds, he can’t possibly have gotten it already.” 

Sam slaps down the cards. It is Colonel Mustard. In the study. With the knife. Tara blinks. 

“You cheated.” She says, immediately. 

Richie laughs, “No. I’m just good at this kind of thing.” 

“He is.” Sam assures, pulling everyone’s cards to the center of the table, “It’s annoying.” 

You rub the back of Tara’s neck. You can tell she’s getting upset. She doesn’t like to lose and this is the third game in a row Richie’s won. You’re starting to think this was a bad idea. 

“He’s looking at the cards,” Tara insists, snatching the packet off Sam, “Here, let me deal.” 

But Richie wins again, even after Tara makes a big show of dealing the hand quite literally under the table. Tara’s shoulders tighten. The first sign of her mood. She goes quiet as she plays, all focus and determination, snapping replies when she’s asked questions. Pushing your hand on her thigh away. 

By the end of the fourth game, you’re the one snatching the cards from the table. 

“Maybe we should play something else,” You suggest quickly, your hand around Tara’s waist maybe the only thing stopping her from launching across the table to slap the shit-eating grin off Richie’s face, “Uno?” 

You can’t stand Uno, you suck at it. But Tara’s good at it and she almost never loses. A quick win is exactly what she needs. You hold back your cards on purpose, determined to give her the game. Direct all your bad cards at Richie and Sam. 

But despite your best efforts, Richie wins that too. 

By the time game night is over, Richie’s standing a little taller and you’re left to pick up the pieces of Tara’s foul mood. You lead her back upstairs, direct an unsaid apology towards Sam with your eyes. 

Tara’s so annoyed she barely notices when you strip naked in front of her and slip into bed. 

“God, he sucks,” She vents, so irate you can almost see the steam coming out of her ears, “He cheats at Clue and if that isn’t sad enough he cheats at Uno too. What is he trying to prove?” 

She’s a terrible loser, always has been. If someone except her wins, she’s certain they’ve cheated. Somehow you even find that endearing about her. You reach for her and rub her back, soothingly. 

“Babe, I don’t think he was cheating,” You say, nestling yourself into her side, “He’s just good at games. He’s a nerd. He probably spends all his free time practicing them. I mean, all he ever does is play that stupid shooting game.”

Tara chews at her bottom lip. 

“He probably spends all night practising because his girlfriend never wants to fuck him.” Tara says, her eyes sparking a little. Next to fucking you, ragging on Richie was her absolue favorite thing to do. 

You indulge her, try to prompt her out of her grump. 

“Exactly. And you don’t have that problem.” You say, pressing your lips against her ear, “Because your girlfriend always wants to fuck you.” 

That does it. You feel her soften immediately, her hands around your waist tightening. She’s suddenly realized you’re naked against her. She runs her hands down your bare thighs, her mood gone with a single sentence. 

“Hmm,” She says, her voice dropping a few octaves, “That’s true. I’d beat him every time if I didn’t have such a sexy, naked girl in my bed 24/7.” 

“Definitely.” You assure, “So who’s the real winner?” 

‘Me.” Tara grins as she flips you onto her back, “Definitely me.”

-

In the end, the real winner is you. 

You get three orgasms as a reward for your peace-keeping efforts. By the time you’re done, a sweaty mess of entwined limbs, you’re satisfied but dehydrated. Tara mews as you get up, trying to tug you back into her. 

“I’m just going to get some water,” You assure, reaching for her discarded t-shirt and pulling it over your head, “Do you want some?”

She nods, a little sleepily, rests her head back down onto the pillow as you leave. 

The house is dark, you pad quietly through it, not wanting to wake Sam and Richie. 

But when you reach the kitchen, Richie’s already there in only his boxers, a glass of milk in hand. He raises it to you in acknowledgement.  

“Hey,” He says, “You thirsty too, huh?” 

“Just getting some water.” You say as you reach into the shelf and grab yourself a glass. 

“Tara still pissed she lost?” He asks, leaning against the countertop, “That girl sure knows how to throw a tantrum.” 

He grins a little, like he’s sure you’ll agree with him. Bitches, am I right? His smile screams. As if he’s forgotten he’s talking to her girlfriend. 

“She’s just competitive,” You say, a little defensively. You fill yourself a glass, grab another for Tara. 

“Hmm.” Richie says, “I’m sure she’s fine now. After you got done with her.” 

His eyes flicker down to your bare legs. You cross your arms a little self conscious. 

“You guys have a lot of sex, you know.” Richie continues. He takes a long sip of his drink, “We can hear you through the walls. It’s driving Sam crazy.” 

Your neck prickles uncomfortably. The thought of Sam hearing you have sex was mortifying but knowing Richie could hear too was somehow even worse. 

“Sorry.” You say. You pull her shirt down your legs a little, subconsciously trying to cover yourself, “We’ll be quieter.” 

“It’s fine.” He says, “I don’t mind.”

He blinks as if he’s just realized what he said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that in a weird way. I just meant- you know what, never mind. I’m going to stop talking.” 

He hovers, a little awkward. You blink back at him, unsure what to say. 

“Enjoy your water. And your- sex, I guess.” 

And then he leaves you standing in the kitchen alone, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. 

When you make your way back up to Tara’s she’s still laying in bed, her eyes drooping. 

She accepts her water, and doesn't seem to notice your mood. 

You’re glad, you don’t want to tell Tara about your conversation with Richie in the kitchen. 

You feel weird, uncomfortable. You tell yourself to let it go. After all, he hadn’t even anything that offensive, outside of being slightly creepy. There really wasn’t anything to tell Tara. And she’d go ballistic. Probably go in all guns blazing and drag Richie out of bed by his hair. 

The last thing you need is her to be angry again. 

You curl back into bed against her, still wearing her shirt. 

“Take this off.” She murmurs into your chest, trying to tug her shirt off you. You resist. 

“You know we can’t sleep naked.” You say. Sleeping naked with Tara almost always ended up the same way; her waking you up at some ungodly hour to fuck you into the mattress because she’d gotten so turned on by the press of your skin against hers in the middle of the night, “We have to be at school for eight.” 

She pouts. You press a kiss to her lips. 

“Tomorrow.” You promise, “When it’s Friday and I don’t have to be up early.” 

“I’m holding you to that.” She says, quite seriously and lets you pull her pajamas back on. 

-

It’s Saturday night. 

Usually, you’d be out with Tara’s friends but the mood has dampened a little since Wes’ disappearance. The friendship circle dwindling a little, only five of you left, with Wes and Amber’s untimely departures. 

Instead, you’re starting dinner prep while Tara and Sam do the grocery shop. Tara had insisted on going with her, complaining Sam’s grocery options were far too organic for her taste. Richie’s out somewhere with his college buddies, so for once you have the house to yourself. 

Maybe when Tara got back the two of you could watch a film, since Richie had temporarily vacated the living room. Or maybe you’d rope her and Sam into another game of Clue, fix Tara’s bruised ego by letting her win. 

For now, you put on some music, put your hair up. 

Chop potatoes while grooving out to Fleetwood Mac, not a care in the world. 

In fact you’re so into the music, you don’t even hear the press of the kitchen door opening. The heavy click of boots against the tile. The gentle scrapping of a knife against the wood of the counter. 

And when you turn around, lyrics to Dreams still on your lips, your heart almost jumps out of your throat.  

It’s Tara, wearing the Ghostface outfit. Black robes and all, mask down, silver dagger in hand. 

Your reaction is instantaneous; the knife you’re holding clatters to the counter. Your entire body fizzles: a mesh of confusion and rage and horror at the sight in front of you. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You hiss, “Where are you going?” 

Tara tilts her head. Her fingers press tighter around the knife in her hand. She doesn’t bother to answer. It makes you angrier. Your stomach writhes sick with fury. She’d told you she wasn’t going to do this anymore. She’d swore black and blue. Hurt, anger, betrayal well up, set deep within your bones. 

“You promised me you’d stop with this. Take that off right now.” 

But she doesn’t move. Not an inch. You reach out for her, grab at the mask, determined to tear it off and tell her how disappointed you are to her face. But she jerks away from you out of your reach. You stare, irritation swelling. 

“Where’s Sam? Tara, if she comes home and sees you like this-” 

You don’t see it coming. One minute she’s standing completely still. The next, her arms are jerking out wide, grabbing at you hard. She yanks you to her, hands are gripping your forearms so hard you think it might bruise. 

“What the fuck? Get off me!” You cry out as you struggle against her. 

Something’s wrong. Something other than Tara standing in front of you in her Ghostface costume. Her grip is hard, unforgiving. Her hands are too big, her weight against you feels strange. Foreign. 

Your struggle against her is futile. She’s much stronger than you. She drags you backwards across the kitchen and slams you down onto the floor like you’re a ragdoll. Then she’s climbing on top of you, too heavy, hands wrapping tight around your throat. 

She chokes you hard. It’s not an unfamiliar position. But this is different. She’s choking you like she wants to hurt you. You writhe in a panic as her fingers squeeze down tight around your throat. You try to cry out but she’s pressing down too hard on your vocal chords. Your vision blurs. Your head light. 

In a final, desperate move, you manage to kick up between her legs at just the right angle. Her grip loosens, only slightly but it’s enough. 

You scramble out from under her. Immediately grab at your fallen potato chopping knife.  

When you whirl around, knife pointed out at her, she’s pulling herself back to her feet, Ghostface mask tilted menacingly. 

“Who the fuck are you?” You hiss, hands shaking. 

This isn’t your girlfriend, you don’t know why you didn’t see it before. This person is taller, bigger, and they want to hurt you. As they stand, you see the glint of the knife in their hands. 

“Someone who thinks you should pay.” They’re using the Ghostface voice changer. You haven’t heard it since that night at Chase’s house. The night you’d discovered who Tara truly was. It sends shivers down your spine. Your lip quivers. 

“Someone who thinks you should both pay.” Ghostface edges a little closer, knife tilted out towards you. Your eyes flicker down to it. It gleams under the cool lights of the kitchen, “And when I’m done carving you up, I’m going to drag your pretty girlfriend in here too. Just long enough so she can see what I’ve done to you. Then I’ll mutilate her over your corpse.” 

“You stay the fuck away from her.” You growl, edge forward and launch a strike. Ghostface ducks past it like it’s nothing. You topple back, grip the counter so hard it might just crack under the pressure. Ghostface is close now, close enough that if you just reached forward and grabbed the mask…

Ghostface ducks as you try it. Launches a hard strike at you. You spin out of the way just in time, their dagger hitting the side of the counter. It clatters to the ground and you take the moment to run. 

You’re sprinting, far out of the kitchen and down the hall, heartbeat in your ears. You rush for the front door. If you can just make it out of the house, run out onto the street, you’ll be able to find help. A neighbor, a car, anything. 

You hear footsteps, loud and heavy behind you. 

Panic floods through your veins, tears streaking hot down your face. Your hands are shaking as you pry open the lock. Their close now, close enough to grab you. Just as a pair of gloved hands reach out to pull you back, the click of the lock sounds. 

You don’t wait a moment longer. Pry open the door as fast as you can and sprint forward. 

Immediately, you hit a solid body.

You hit the ground hard, a mess of tears, tangled limbs and loose grocery items. You gasp as a rogue glass of pasta sauce shatters around you, a carton of milk seeping cool under your fingertips. 

It’s Sam, looking confused and a little dazed. The weight of you has sent her toppling back onto the porch. You wildly flurry to untangle yourself from her, scramble up desperately looking behind you for the foreboding figure that had just chased you down the hallway. 

“My groceries.” Sam gasps, from the ground, “YN, what the hell?” 

But you’re not looking at her. You stare back into the house. The hallway is empty, eerie, lights flickering. Ghostface is long gone. 

You hear the thud of the car door closing, and then a voice that makes you want to crumble to the ground. 

“Sam?” Tara calls out from behind the car. No doubt she’s heard the panic, tries to round the corner to see what’s going on. She’s carrying two brown bags worth of groceries, a particularly long celery stick blocking her vision. She brushes it out of the way, eyes lock to Sam on the ground and you, standing limp-handed, tears and mascara streaked down your face. 

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

You run towards her, all but throw yourself into her arms. She lets go of the groceries instantly. They fall to the ground with a crash as she wraps her arms tight around you. You sniffle into her neck, breathing wild, heartbeat erratic. You try to speak but it comes out in a quiet, muffled blubber, tears spilling hot from your eyes and into her neck. She’s pulling you away only slightly so she can cup your cheeks, eyes panicked as she sees the look in your eyes. 

“Babe, what happened?” 

“He’s inside,” Your voice shakes. It’s thick, “Ghostface. He’s here.” 

She blinks back at you. You’re so close to her you can almost hear the thud of her heartbeat as it speeds up. 

“What?” She says, “That’s impossible.” 

“He’s here.” You say, desperately, “Call the police, now.” 

“Who’s here?” Sam asks. She’s long abandoned her groceries, looks over at you with concern. 

“Ghostface.” You say, “He attacked me in the house. Just now. He’s probably still inside.” 

Sam’s face drops. Tara’s hands tighten around your waist. 

“Wait here.” Tara murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. 

“No.” You and Sam both shout at once. You grip her hard. Keep her locked into you. 

“You’re not going in there. No way.” You say. The shake in your voice gone, replaced with sheer determination. Over your dead body was she going into that house alone. 

“Baby, let go. You know I can handle myself.” 

Sam reaches for her phone. 

“Get back in the car. Lock the doors.” She orders, taking charge, “YN, don’t let go of her. I’m calling the police.” 

“He’ll be gone by then,” Tara says, aggravated but you don’t loosen your grip. Cling to her like a baby koala would its mother. 

“Let’s get in the car, please Tara.” You all but beg. She looks down at you, conflict in her eyes. 

“Please.” 

She relents. You feel the tension in her body loosen only a little, before she’s leading you back into Sam’s car, and helping you into the back seat. You all but crawl into her lap, watch as Sam paces back and forth across the front lawn, talking animatedly to the 911 operator. 

“Are you okay?” Tara’s asking, her hands over your body. She’s wildly checking for marks, cuts. “Did he hurt you?” 

You shake your head. 

Tara presses a long kiss to the side of your head. 

“Did you see his face?” Tara asks. She looks so anxious you want to weep. 

You shake your head once more. 

“Did you get close? Did you hear his voice?” 

“Voice-changer,” You all but mumble. 

She bites at her bottom lip. She looks back into the house, eyes it like she’s about to make a break for it. You curl your fingers tight around her waist, keeping her in place. Press your cheek to her chest. Her heart is beating faster than yours, drumming loudly against your ear.

Her fingers thread through your hair, heartbeat still racing. 

“Shoes?” 

“Boots. They were black.” 

“What did he smell like?”

You retract from her just long enough to stare up at her. She’s looking back, completely serious. 

“I didn’t smell him, Tara, I was busy trying not to get stabbed-”

Your lip trembles. A fresh wave of tears spill hot from your eyes. 

“Alright. Alright, I’m sorry, baby. Of course you didn’t smell him.” She takes you back into her arms, hushes your cries with a kiss, “There’s got to be something. He grabbed you, right? What did he feel like? Was he skinny? Beefy?”

“He was…” You trail off trying to remember. You look down at your forearms, remember the way he’d gripped you, “He was strong. Solid.” 

“So he was a he, then?” Tara tries to confirm. Her eyes flit between yours, searchingly. 

“I don’t… maybe. Not necessarily.” You say, suddenly hyper-aware of how unhelpful you’re being. You pause a moment, remembering something. 

“He knew though.”

Tara looks at you, long and hard. 

“He knew what?” 

“What we-” You take a breath, hot flashes of memories painting thick behind your eyes. The knife in your hand. Wes’ body on the floor. 

“About you-know-what.” 

Sam’s close, you don’t want to say it aloud. Tara’s expression is even, unreadable. Her heartbeat hammers even louder. 

“That’s not possible.” 

“He said that we need to pay.” You insist, “There’s nothing else he could have meant.” 

Tara goes quiet, her fingers in your hair tightened. Then she’s pulling you back into her chest, pressing another long kiss against the top of your head. 

“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” She says, voice agonized, “Why did I leave you alone?”

“Nevermind about that,” You say. You close your eyes, breathe her in. It calms you, if only for a moment, “What are we going to do?” 

She blinks back at you. She’s afraid, uncertain, you can see it in her eyes. She doesn’t have an answer for you, she doesn’t know what to do. 

She’s used to being the hunter, not the hunted. 

And the thought of Tara being Ghostface’s prey is what scares you the most.

Next part

[brucebocchi]

Winter 2024 anime roundup, Pt. 1: Ongoing/returning shows and the trash heap

hey y'all, this is also up on my ko-fi! it's free to read both here and there, but i'm struggling financially rn so i could appreciate if you'd throw a few bucks my way if you liked it!

I wasn't expecting to watch nearly this much anime in just the past three months, but life completely failed at getting in the way. So here's everything I either watched or tried​ to watch for the Winter 2024 season, and a short review for each.

I'm not going to bother with trying to rank them, so instead they're sorted by category, as follows:

Continuing series from Fall 2023

Returning series

What I dropped

Mixed reactions

On hold

New series that are actually good

With this first entry, I'll be covering the first three, with the back half arriving in another couple of days. As with the 2023 rankings, the OP for each show is linked in the corresponding title.

Here we go.

Ongoing shows:

The Apothecary Diaries

Looking back at my 2023 rankings, I think my placement of The Apothecary Diaries’ first cour at #11 may have belied how much I love this show and believe it to truly be one of last year’s greats. If anything, it was hampered by its status as an ongoing show making it incomplete by nature, and I worried myself over the possibility of recency bias taking over my top ten (Frieren is in the same boat, so its top overall ranking should really highlight how damn good it is). Make no mistake, though: The Apothecary Diaries fucking rocks, and it continues to fucking rock. 

It’s largely more of the same, and that’s what you would want from another cour of this show. At the same time, though, more and more is uncovered about Maomao’s background and Jinshi’s status as the proverbial camera continues to pull back and the mysteries adorning the edges of the frame become clearer. I got a sense at the end of the Fall 2023 cour that the show was moving on from its episodic nature into something more serial and plot-driven, and I was mostly right: While several episodes of the Winter cour still revolve around various mysteries of the week, they all start to converge before you even realize it. It’s the same flywheel-effect approach to plot development that Kaguya-sama did so well: While so many of the events seem like one-off curiosities in the moment, these almost-imperceptible movements eventually barrel forward into an unexpected but perfectly logical momentum. The show teases out several plot threads that may not seem relevant at first, and it trusts you to be patient enough to see them play out.

I’m not at all exaggerating when I say that, along with the next entry on this list, The Apothecary Diaries is one of the best anime of the past five years. I had a feeling that this could end up being the case as 2023 came to a close, but I’m sure of it now. Watch this show.

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End

Last year’s best anime continues apace into 2024 as we get an honest-to-goodness story arc: Frieren, who has been around too long to bother taking any magical governing bodies seriously, needs a certification as a mage in order to continue on the party’s journey north. She decides to take the necessary exam to be certified as a First-Class Mage, a rarefied status in this world, and has Fern tag along to do the same. 

And it’s still incredible! Great action, brilliant animation, wonderful character moments, and a beautiful score. It is still the top-rated anime ever on MyAnimeList, and by a significant margin. I’m not sure I agree, necessarily, but I can say with all sincerity that this has been a perfect season of television and my Fridays now feel empty without it. 

That’s all I’ve got on this one. What else do you want from me? I’ve already written nearly 2000 words about this show alone since it premiered. You’re asking me for more? I’ll kill you.

Shangri-La Frontier

If the low placement on my 2023 list was any indication, I was pretty fed up with Shangri-La Frontier by the end of its first cour, and the first couple episodes of 2024 being little more than plot set-up had me teetering on the edge of dropping it entirely. But I’ll be damned if it didn’t start reeling me back in once shit actually started happening and the plot really began to move forward.

Well, for a bit, at least. The height of the series so far has been the Wethermon arc, in which Sunraku teams up with his fellow shit-gamers, Pencilgon and Katzo, as they vie to be the first to take down a notoriously difficult unique boss. As the fight plays out, we get to see the feeling-out process of a tough action-RPG boss, rife with attack pattern memorization, skill timing, and buff stacking as the margin for error grows ever thinner. As always, the animation is on point, the soundtrack rules, and the action sequences are exhilarating.

But my major gripe with the series remains: There’s hardly any actual story here, even after 25 episodes. There are broad gestures towards a larger plot (“the truth of this world,” as the NPCs call it), but they are too vague to even resemble anything enticing. Everything in between the major fights is just set dressing, and there’s a lot of in between. There’s decent stuff in there, to be fair; the adorable rabbit NPCs are always a delight, and I love the commitment to depicting our top-level gamers as smug, preening shitheels. These are long walks for short drinks of water, though, and much of the main cast isn’t likable enough to make the downtime tolerable, to the point where watching the many set-up episodes feels like more of a grind than the actual grinding in the show. Even in the fight sequences I still had moments where I found myself yelling “STOP TALKING ALREADY” at the screen. Internal monologues are a constant in battle shonen, I know, but if there’s any demographic whose internal monologues I want to hear the least, it’s gamers.

I kept watching this show despite myself, and six months later I’m still not sure how much I actually enjoy it. I haven’t seen any of the lousy VRMMO anime that people favorably compare it to, so at least it isn’t Sword Art Online. Yay, I guess? Yet here I am, still plugging away at a show I can’t strongly recommend to a lot of people. Shangri-La Frontier has turned me into a Steam reviewer.

Undead Unluck

The stakes continue to rise exponentially in one of last year’s more underrated shonen hits (or it would’ve been a hit if Disney gave a fuck about marketing the anime on its own platforms). The Union neutralizes a threat, gains a new Roundtable member, and then shit hits the fan.

The scope of this series goes into absolutely buckwild directions, and all I will say is that “Kimi no Todoke predicting the future” was not a piece of worldbuilding I would have ever expected. But at the same time, it never loses focus on the human element, which only gets more poignant as it goes on. There’s a really beautiful message in the last arc about how people can live on through the memories of others, well past their bodies dying, which hits nice and hard considering this season aired at the same time as Frieren.

This is a show that I tended to watch sporadically (because I just plain forget to open Hulu just to watch one show every week), and I would say that it was the ideal way to watch it, except the pacing issues from the first cour only got worse during a monumentally consequential sequence in the middle of the second. There was an episode that had, I shit you not, 90 seconds of new content in the first seven minutes of runtime, and at the exact point in the series when you’re salivating for something, anything new. In a season where so much goes on in just 24 episodes, I’m baffled that they felt the need to pad the runtime so much.

That’s the worst of it, though, and the momentum fortunately builds up from there and barrels downhill until the end. The story becomes incredibly meta, which was a very ballsy move for a Shonen Jump series that was still relatively early into its run. The gamble pays off, though, and the debut season ends on several incredibly strong episodes, and now I want more. I’ll be hopping on the manga soon.

It also struck me towards the end of the season just how goddamn cute everyone looks. For all of the spraying blood and grim marching towards Armageddon, it says a lot that I still wanna pinch everyone’s fat little cheeks.

Returning shows:

The Dangers in My Heart, season 2

The first season was absent in my 2023 rankings but I decided to pick it up while the second was still airing, and I’m so glad I did: The Dangers in My Heart is an almost-too-precious middle school romance that is endlessly endearing and bluntly honest (if a little exploitative) about what middle schoolers are actually like, warts and all. Insecurities are amplified, they struggle to figure out their identities, and mental and physical development runs on different schedules from one kid to the next. And amidst all this raging hormonal nonsense, we have ourselves a lovely little romance story.

Kyotaro has (mostly) kicked his chuuni tendencies and realized that he’s madly in love with the beautiful, cheery Anna. He’s as aware as anyone of what a mismatched couple they’d be, though, and continues to self-sabotage any progress in the name of maintaining her good social standing. To pile onto his loner’s perspective of middle school politics, Kyotaro also gets a front-row seat to Anna’s part-time work as a model-slash-actress and he wonders if an underdeveloped shrimp like him should be anywhere near someone so obviously more mature. At the same time, though, he’s a growing boy, and we see lovely moments of progress as Kyotaro takes initiative both for her sake and to achieve what he wants. To both ameliorate and complicate these situations, Anna reciprocates his feelings towards her, and we creep ever closer towards what we want to see, in increasingly awkward and precious fashion.

So much of this anime is just gorgeous. Even setting aside the visuals and music (which are on point at all times), there are really lovely themes in here about insecurity, teenage perception of maturity, and self acceptance. On top of all of that, though, this is just a delightful slice-of-life romance story. You can probably guess where we’ve ended up by the end of the second season, but it’s the getting there that makes it all worth it. The manga is still running (and I plan to pick it up), so there’s clearly plenty more of the story to tell, but if this is where the anime ends, it ended perfectly.

Holy shit, though, did the first season really air at the same time as Skip and Loafer and Insomniacs After School? Dentists must have made a mint that season because every single one of these shows is so unrelentingly sweet that my teeth start to itch. Not that I’m complaining.

Mashle: Magic and Muscles, season 2

I honestly think I might’ve been too hard on Mashle in my 2023 rankings. I gave up on it a few episodes in when it’d initially aired, but I eventually came back to finish out the season and ended up having a pretty good time. I’ll cop to having forgotten that latter part when I mapped out those rankings, but that enjoyment quickly came back to me when I picked up season 2... even if the season begins with a ton of table setting.

Plenty of battle shonen take time to find their voice, both in manga and anime, and Mashle really seemed to hit its stride fairly quickly into the second season. Mash’s lack of magical quality is no longer a secret, and now magical society has to find a way to deal with it, so the series’ initial stakes are raised and Mash HAS to become a top-level sorcerer lest he lose his life. Also, the bad guys are back. Unfortunately, just as I started to genuinely appreciate the ensemble cast, most of Mash’s friends took a backseat to the larger plot (Lemon is nowhere to be seen almost all season) as the villains raise the stakes with increasingly JoJo-esque magic abilities. There’s still plenty to like, though, and some of the new characters help. Props for having an openly nonbinary character play a major role.

The music is a real highlight here; a surprising amount of hip-hop paints the backdrops during dialogue, and any show with an OP by Creepy Nuts will immediately grab my attention. "Bling-Bang-Bang-Born" actually turned into a bona fide hit single, much like Oshi no Ko's "Idol" and Jujutsu Kaisen's "SPECIALZ," and I'd say it's well earned (seriously, it fucks, please click the link above). The animation has also started to really pick up where it felt like it kept falling short in the first season as well, and I found myself looking forward to action sequences more as the season went on.

And hey, it might’ve taken 21 episodes to get there, but I finally laughed at a cream puff gag!

Urusei Yatsura (2022), season 2

I really don’t have much to say other than it’s more Urusei Yatsura, and that’s just swell. We continue the modern adaptation of the classic gag manga as the OG anime babe and her piece-of-shit “darling” get caught up in yet more bizarre hijinks. Despite the 48-episode run being touted as an “Urusei Yatsura all-stars” cherry-pick from Rumiko Takahashi’s 34-volume opus, not all of the segments hit on the same level, but the stories that last entire or even multiple episodes have been killer. Lum and Ataru, despite their myriad flaws, genuinely do care for one another, and this series is at its best when those feelings get to shine through. Takahashi remains a legend for her expert balancing of comedy and heart, and while this particular adaptation doesn’t have the built-in benefit of 300+ chapters of familiarity, those moments still feel earned.

It’s Urusei Yatsura. It’s a classic for a reason. Watch it.

Dropped:

Gushing Over Magical Girls (dropped after one episode)

For the TL;DR version, consult the image above.

All I’d heard about this show going in was that the manga it’s based on was good and that there would be boobs. I wish I’d known more than that before watching, though, because if I’d known that said boobs would belong to middle schoolers, I wouldn’t have bothered with even the one episode I did end up watching.

I was drawn in by the initial premise, too: The protagonist, the conspicuously-named Utena (who looks enough like Bernadetta from Fire Emblem that I was immediately endeared to her), is an enormous fan of the magical girls who keep her city safe, so when an adorable maho shoujo mascot approaches her with an offer, she immediately takes him up on it. As her sinister-looking (and unnecessarily revealing) costume suggests, though, Utena doesn’t get to live out her magical girl dreams; she actually got roped into—and blackmailed into keeping—a role as a villainess. The magical girl team she idolizes quickly recognizes this, and to stave off their assault, Utena is forced to summon a monster to bind them. As they continue to struggle and squeal, Utena goes further with it by ripping their clothes and spanking their bare bottoms red, because it turns out that she’s actually into this stuff, sexually. The title, it turns out, is a double entendre.

Credit where it’s due for a clever concept: On paper, this is really goddamn funny! My issue is with the execution: I don’t really care to see someone’s sexual awakening if it involves repeated violations of consent, and doubly so if I have to see nudity of ostensible middle schoolers (Japanese middle schools are the equivalent of seventh through ninth grade, so even on the older end these girls are 15 at most). After 100 Girlfriends, I thought I could handle whatever trashy bullshit any anime could throw my way, but the longer I chewed on Gushing’s premiere, the worse it sat with me. I have no intentions of playing morality police here, but I can’t bring myself to watch any more of this than I already have. 

Early teenage sexuality is a very difficult subject matter to handle delicately, especially in a comedy milieu, and I can levy plenty of criticisms on that matter towards series I otherwise enjoyed, like Call of the Night and the aforementioned Dangers in My Heart. And although there appear to be some coming-of-age elements here, Gushing doesn’t seem interested in handling it without being exploitative. Maybe it gets better, but I don’t really plan to find out for myself. 

I just feel like it’s a shame that in a season with some actual halfway decent LGBT representation, the breakout yuri hit is about middle schoolers performing dubiously-consensual BDSM on each other. And maybe that speaks to something for some sapphic viewers, and I have no intention of speaking over them, but I do know that this isn’t for me. I would’ve gone fucking feral over this show when I was like 13, but I haven’t been a 13-year-old boy for a long, long time. 

I may not have a leg to stand on here as someone who watches Mushoku Tensei (although frankly, that one’s on strike two with me), but I have to put my foot down somewhere. For me, that “somewhere” is borderline pornography involving 13-15 year olds. I try to meet media where it is, even the squicky stuff, but I cannot put myself at the level Gushing Over Magical Girls sets for itself. 

Sasaki and Peeps (dropped after eight episodes)

This show is frustrating to even process postmortem. After a mildly intriguing hour-long premiere that introduced a whole lot of concurrent concepts, Sasaki and Peeps somehow managed to not only continue heaping new ideas onto the pile, but also fumble every single one of them in a way that wasn’t even entertaining to watch.

Sasaki, a lonely 40-something salaryman of modest means, decides that instead of living vicariously through adorable animal photos on social media, he should pull the trigger and get a pet of his own. He settles on a reasonably-priced and suitably adorable fat little Java sparrow, who as it turns out speaks human language and is actually named Piercarlo the Starsage (Sasaki settles on Pii-chan, or Peeps in English). The bird was reincarnated from another world, where he is able to take Sasaki at will, and the man realizes he can use the other world’s relative dearth of technology to his advantage and sets up an interdimensional trade full time so he can make coin on his own watch and help Peeps try the delicious beef he heard is the best food in Sasaki’s world. To the latter end, he also invests in a restaurant. Peeps also helps teach him magic, which Sasaki is forced to use in a pinch in the real world. He is quickly found out and gets roped into a secret government bureau of psychics, because the agent who caught him using ice magic decides he’d be a perfect complement to her water powers (think Kanne and Lawine from Frieren, but stupider). Sasaki now has to balance these multiple lives, which hardly ever interact with one another, as the stakes rise in Peeps’ world in the form of palace intrigue and in Sasaki’s world in the form of a growing threat of evil psychics or something. Also, there’s magical girls, because why the fuck not at this point.

If you actually managed to process all that and went “wow, that’s a lot, I wonder how they can tie all that together,” it brings me no pleasure to report that Sasaki and Peeps completely fails at that task. This is a work of fiction with entirely too many ideas, to the point where it feels like it has no ideas. There’s a saying in football that a team with two quarterbacks is a team with no quarterback, and Sasaki and Peeps has, like, six on its depth chart. You ever hear a band that managed to cram multiple genres in the same song and you get whiplash every time it switches up? Those are bands with a lot of influences, but no identity to call their own, and that is Sasaki and Peeps to me. It is the Twenty One Pilots of anime. A lot of shit got thrown at the wall, and none of it stuck: This show, conceptually, is shit-stained drywall with a pile of turds adorning the moulding. 

For a show about a 40-year-old man, it gave me serious pause that there was not a single named adult woman in any of the episodes I watched, and I grew even more frustrated waiting for one to show up. Sasaki’s partner, Hoshizaki, seems to be a driven, professional young woman, but it turns out she’s a 16 year old high school student, for some reason. The daughter of the viscount doing business with Sasaki is a young girl who likes to tag along with him, and Sasaki’s neighbor is a latchkey high school girl who may or may not have a yandere-ish fixation on him. The magical girl we meet is also definitely a kid. The female psychics they face off against don’t appear to be older than teenagers, though the one who appears to grow fond of him turns out to be several hundred years old, which especially gave me pause because we all know that unfortunate trope and the type of person who hides behind it. Before progressing any further, I found out that the light novel series upon which this show is based was written by someone with the pen name “Buncololi,” which told me the rest of what I needed to know.

That part made me increasingly uncomfortable, and I became less and less convinced that this show was capable of sticking the landing as it continued to pile on new, contrived ideas. This was a waste of an excellent voice cast, but more than that, a waste of time.

Tales of Wedding Rings (dropped after nine episodes)

I can’t believe how much goddamn isekai I ended up watching this season. That Tales of Wedding Rings wasn’t the worst one (see above) was a minor miracle, because boy howdy was this one a dud.

Satou is just a normal high school boy, blah blah blah, his childhood friend he’s in love with is actually a princess from another world and she has to go back to fulfill a political marriage, he follows her into the portal to pull a Benjamin Braddock. But then, gasp, the palace is under attack, so the princess (her native name is Krystal, but growing up in Japan she was known as Hime, which means… princess) instead decides to marry Satou, bestowing upon him her kingdom’s ring, which gives him powers that he uses to fight back the demons. It turns out that her ring enables him to use one elemental affinity out of five, so of course now Satou has to collect the other four to become the Ring King and save the world, and to do so he has to also marry each corresponding princess.

This is basically Tolkien’s Rings of Power but as a harem isekai with bonus nudity. What I saw of the season was basically a MacGuffin hunt that had waifus of various fantasy races attached. Fine character designs for each, to be fair, but it wasn’t enough to keep me interested.  It’s funny on paper that (to paraphrase Geoff Thew) our protagonist’s power level scales with the size of his harem, but Tales didn’t do enough to make me actually care what was happening. And I wanted to! There were elf titties and I didn’t care. That’s criminal.

What makes Tales especially difficult to watch is that this show is fuck ugly. The color palette is muddy and unappealing, everyone looks uncannily shiny, and there’s a smudgy Vaseline filter over everything. The action sequences are uninspiring, the animation is lousy, and every character looks terribly off-model unless they’re naked. Watch the OP I linked if you don't believe me; that's the best of it. The aural element isn’t much better; ecchi scenes are punctuated by a Cinemax-caliber smooth jazz score that I pray was chosen ironically, and most of the show’s humor consists of “an old guy is screeching.” And if you’re wasting Shigeru Chiba’s talents on that one lousy joke, you’ve fucked up catastrophically.

What completely pushed me out of wanting to see any more of this show, though, was how hard it doubled down on the worst elements of harem anime by having Protag-kun be a wishy-washy little ninny even though he’s openly declared his love for and is literally married to Hime/Krystal. And I wanted to care about her; the narrative made me want to care about her, and her jealousy of the other princesses is warranted, but alas, the harem demands bodies. To his credit, Satou recognizes her mixed emotions and makes extra time for her to make it clear that she’s forever number one in his heart, but every single time their shared romance and emotions actually push them towards consummating their (all caps for emphasis) MARRIAGE, the show goes Rent-a-Girlfriend on us and finds a cheap excuse to ruin the moment. No thanks, I’m out. Nothing else about this show is good enough to make me wade through that shit.

Honestly, the only thing that had me coming back after my Persona 3-induced hiatus was that I wanted to see the dragon girl, and that alone was almost worth it, but there really isn’t much of a draw otherwise. There were better isekai, better romances, better fantasy settings, and even better uncensored harem shenanigans this season. I might pick this back up as the second season approaches, but I’m not in any hurry.

[body-face-words]

Part 3 Moving onto analyzing Michael and David during season 2 of GO.

@cloud-based-and-rainpilled provided the video!

Part 1 Part 2

The part where David asks Michael what Aziraphale's favorite thing about Crowley is, will be highlighted in red.

Timestamps: 0:16 - 0:48 | 0:56 - 1:18 | 2:04 - 3:05 | 3:25 - 4:00 | 4:33 - 4:51 | 5:52 - 6:27 | 6:57 - 7:20

This will be a long post.

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0:16 - 0:24 1,2

They're sat in a similar way and move at the same/similar way. With their arms resting in the same way, chins up, then leaning forward. They're head is also tilting to in the same direction. A good indication that people get along and great to know if those people are happy in the relationship (whatever kind) at that moment.

When people spend a lot of time together and like one another, they tend to pick up certain mannerisms from the other. Way of sitting, ticks, doing the same motion at the same time, choice of words, etc. This is mirroring. They're also obviously very enthusiastic.

0:25 - 0:48 "Do you have a favourite episode from the new season, or moment/scene?"

DT answers - 3,4,5

David doesn't shy away from initiating and sustaining eye contact. He leans closer to Michael when he starts answering. They're super relaxed. Dropped shoulders, no tension in the face, lighthearted tone. Michael throws his head back, laughing, instead of down like he usually does. David is genuinely smiling (small eyes, corners up, teeth showing, cheek bones out) and looking at Michael a lot more.

MS answers - 6, 7

David waits and listens attentively. Leans his head a bit closer, stares off taking in what Michael is saying, and reacts to the conversation. He smiles when Michael laughs. Michael talks with his hands and smiles a lot, clearly comfortable enough to talk and express what he's saying.

2:04 - 2:40

"What do you think Aziraphale's favourite thing about Crowley is?"

MS answers - To read, David scoots closer to Michael, but Michael doesn't move away. When the question is asked, David crossed his left leg over his right and lays his left arm over it, then puts his right arm behind Michael. All his attention is on Michael and the rest can wait. He's blocking the outside, not out of uneasiness, but because all his focus is on Michael. He scoots up, turns his head to be able to see Michaels face clearly, and completely ignores anything outside of them.

His arm is touching Michael, leg and/or hand is touching Michaels leg, but David leaves space between his torso and Michaels arm, making not so overbearing. David is flirting/teasing Michael. The smile, seeking direct eye contact, crossing his legs to Michael, putting his arm behind Michael, and 'invading' personal space, all indicate flirtatious/teasing intentions.

Michaels turns, backs up, and shrugs his left shoulder in order to see David in the eye and show David what he's saying ('I can see myself in your eyes'). Michael is not backing out. They're both smiles and neither of them is uncomfortable with how close they are. When Michael puts his hand down (image 11) the space between his arm and David's torso becomes smaller, but again, neither of them pull back.

Content with the answer, David nods, smiles to the camera, adjusts his suit, and continues smiling as he turns to Michael, leaning into the chair and close to Michael. Adjusting the jacket could mean he really is just adjusting it, but with the smile at the camera and the faltering smile, makes me think he could have been on edge (nervous: 'what did I just do?') and calming himself down by putting a bit of distance. The next image if of him, smiling more proximately at Michael. Michael, is just staring at David with a smile. Just happy and amused at what happened.

2:16 - David goes back to how he was sitting. When Michael is answering, David's gets closer as he listens.

2:41 - 3:05

"What do you think Crowley's favourite things about Aziraphle is?"

David seeks out the eye contact. He's the one looking at Michael. In the previous interviews of season 1, he would stare off or look at the camera/interviewer but now, he tends to answer while staring at Michael. He has no problem with it.

"I like my yang, but I like it better when your yin is next to it." -MS 14,15 Michael looks to see David's reaction and is happy with it. David laughs, raises his eyebrows, and closes his eyes. The comment/image hit him by surprise. He doesn't have an unpleasant look on his face, but closes ones eyes typically means not wanting to see something, surprise, imagining something, or putting distance between yourself and the subject. They're still sitting in a similar way.

3:25 - 3:40 16,17,18

What is your favourite fun fact that you like about your character?"

DT Answers - David now sits slanted towards Michael. Right arm resting on right crossed leg, causing him to slant over to Michael. Michael is also leaning to the right, but he's been like that for most of the interview. Maybe because it's comfortable or to be able to see David better. David gestures with his hands, then repositions his arms. 19

3:40 - 4:00

MS Answers - David listens then goes back to the previous position. Again, he tends to move a lot in general. 20

4:33 - 4:51

4:38 - 4:42 David repositions, turning to Michael. 21

4:43 - 4:51 Michael stays the same. David leans closer. 22

5:21 - 6:27

"What's your favourite behind the scenes moment/blooper?"

David is slanted again. 23

6:00 - 6:27 - The Apology Dance

MS Answers - Michael starts smiles as he tells the story. David starts rubbing his hands when he realizes what Michael is talking about. Rubs hands, pursued lips in a straight line, inflated cheeks. His initial reaction is 'oh it's this…" his eyebrows are relaxed/not furrowed and his eyes are more open than usual. It doesn't piss him off. He's not angry that Michael is bring it up or not angry about what Michael did. It's just a realization. 23,24,25 David then relaxes his face as he looks up, remembering the event, with a smile. It's not an unpleasant memory. 26,27

Michael comments that the dance was hard for David and David furrows his eyebrows and says it wasn't difficult for him. David genuinely disagrees, but Michael got the reaction that he was hoping for. Michael smiles when David disagrees and goes on playfully that David made it look hard. 28,29,30,31,32,33

"I got him to do it one more time with him thinking we were filming (34) another take, but it was (35) just so I could hold up a score (36, 37) card at the end and go SEVEN!" - MS

This is a happy memory for the both of them. Michael is having a blast as he's sharing and David is looking down with a smiling going over the event in his head, with a genuine smile. Fond, reminiscing smile. At the end. David laughs looking down (something he doesn't do often with Michael around). He's embarrassed and/or bashful. 38,39

Michael is just do happy. The memory and David's reaction to it.

6:57 - 7:20

"What did you learn from working with each other?"

There's a cut, then we see David with his arms crossed. Could be he's getting in a comfy position or that for some reason, he's closed off to answering the question. At the end, he never does give a answer. Michael says that being a nice person will cause people to be nice back and David laughs at this looking down. Again, could be embarrassment and not knowing what to do/say or disbelief of what Michael learned ('really? You just learned that?'). David and Michael both laugh and then Michael looks away.

"You're a very nice man." -MS

"Oh so are you! Putting yourself down." -DT 44

David is bugged by Michaels comment and insinuation that Michael doesn't see himself as a nice person.

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There's an obvious huge difference between now and then.

Michael is not bothered at all with their proximity. Neither one of them move away or are stiff in order to not invade personal space. Michael, more than David, is more mindful of not going over the line, but he's still moving his hands around and turning to David to see him more directly. He continues to stare at David (when David is busy talking) and following David's movements with his head/eyes.

David doesn't avoid Michael anymore. He seeks out Michaels face, is somehow always leaning or moving closer to Michael he talks a lot more relaxed and has more tone in his voice. He also stares now, unlike before where he would stare off into nothing or at the camera/interviewer. He's more receptive to Michaels comments more often.

They're both relaxed with each other. Sitting close was probably not a choice. We see Nina and Maggie sitting just as close, but more upright and stiff, but with Michael and David, they're moving towards the other or in the same direction. They both make more eye contact and are playful, genuinely smile, add on, moving their hands when talking. There's familiarity now. Enough for them to be relaxed and take everything the other says playfully and expecting/hoping for a specific reaction.

[heteromerous-rhyming]

just speculation, and after this i swear i'm going to write what i did appreciate in the show, but.

to me it kinda feels like riordan cast these three kids and went, these three children, they are my trio. and he should have! they're amazing - they're cast Very Well.

but then it feels like riordan assumed that because they already embodies the characters to him, that he didn't need to do characterbuilding in the actual fucking script. i get the feeling that the writers and showrunners are constantly both overestimating and underestimating walker leah and aryan. the scene with thalia? very much felt exposition dump. leah did what she could with she was a hero (and she kills her emotional moments, the parts that show annabeth's softness), but the themes came before the characters here and that for me feels a little unexcusable. annabeth is smart, we all know that, so riordan constantly forgets to show us that annabeth is smart. percy explains to annabeth how the lotus is in the air not the food. like HOW IS IT PERCY THAT FIGURES IT OUT BEFORE ANNABETH?

i think maybe grover/aryan got the best treatment out of them because of his scene with ares and the scene with the animals on the street, but even then the "betrayal" at the beginning felt slightly off. because percy never fully finished reacting to it (or if he did i don't remember which itself is not great)

which gets to another part of the writing / directing that's really getting to me. which is the relationships between characters, and how that's undermined by how short the scenes at the beginning of the show are. because more than half of the dialogue in the first two episodes ends up as (slightly unnatural or at least not in character exposition) and because the scenes (that is, however long a section before they cut to black and setting changes) are all wildly short (at least to me) there's no time for the characters to breathe. there are hardly any beats or pauses or just moments of breathing in a character's emotion or reaction.

going back to thalia's explanation, the scene ends after the exposition. going back further to luke showing percy around? all exposition. the subtle character moments are only in the scenes without dialogue and for a brief second at luke's introduction. there's no long scenes (from what i experienced) in the downtime, in the relatively quieter moments. only long scene i can think of was the fight with the minotaur.

even later, the scenes that are emotional and long? sally and poseidon. they don't allow grover's self-recrimination to breathe. they don't allow the panic after almost getting pulled into the Pit to breathe. the scene cuts, the emotion is squashed, and the next scene is more action, more traveling, more gods.

i think that this is partly why clarisse made such a big impression on me, because by design she can't be a part of the exposition. she's actively antagonistic towards percy, half of her scenes are some sort of action, and so the little characterization that we get of her (this time little is justified bc she's a side character) works really really effectively. you clock her character, her motivations immediately.

the scenes are getting longer. i think that this specific critique is one that will get fixed as the writers get used to the visual medium. but the rest? i really really hope that the writers realize that the characters just. need more space. i hope they trust their actors to play out these emotional scenes and i hope they give them more emotional scenes, more banter, more silly moments.

[laurel-finch]

'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch01: Blue House, Black Dog

Summary: The Winchesters meet a new face, one who is not entirely human... Referenced Episodes: None CW: Minor gore. Change from 3rd to 1st person POV. Female reader -- no character description other than age. Lots of exposition :( Word Count: 5944 Recommended Song: Hungry Like The Wolf -- Duran Duran Series Masterlist -- Next Chapter

The motel room was eerily quiet. There was no bickering, no laughter, no witty comments. Only light snores from one bed and the gentle clicking of laptop keys from another. The screen glared on a shadowy figure, reflecting on the wooden backboard of the bed and spreading softly around the room. The figure would pause in his typing every few minutes to glance at the sleeping figure in the next bed. He would stop and his eyes would flash towards his brother, as if to check that the sleeping figure was still there, and then return on his mission.

The room was oddly barren and tidy for two young men to be staying in. The only loose item happened to be a long forgotten lacy, fuchsia-colored bra tucked neatly behind the TV stand, out of the sight of the younger brother. The curtains were drawn to allow minimal light into the room, though the occasional moth-eaten hole would ruin the effect. The sounds of cars could be heard on a distant highway if one strained hard enough to listen for them.

The younger brother rubbed his eyes in exhaustion and turned once again to glance at his comatose older brother. In just a few hours, he would be awake and they would be on the road again – whether the younger brother liked it or not. He laughed grimly and averted his gaze back to the computer.

A news headline for a rural Alabama city flashed at the top of his screen, showcasing a sizable town somewhere in the 'Black Belt', a rural farming district of the state. The district boasted smaller towns and massive, old plantation homes off the beaten path. The headline spoke of several recent animal attacks, with the carcasses ranging from ravished to nearly intact. They all lacked one key component – hearts. The younger brother chuckled again.

No less than three hours later, the two brothers were sitting in a shabby diner in Omaha, dim lighting reflecting off of their clean plates.

"You find anything about those coordinates yet?" The oldest brother questioned, a fork hanging from his mouth, not bothering to keep his voice down.

"The website says it was animal attacks. Coroner says all of the hearts were missing," his younger brother replied. He sighed and spun the laptop to face his brother. "If it really is a text from Dad... he might be onto something. Looks like maybe a werewolf."

The older brother raised a brow as he took another bite. Of course, his dad was onto something. "Great, a werewolf in the swamp. Go figure."

"You're thinking of Louisiana, Dean."

Dean dropped the fork from his mouth and leaned towards his brother, taking a swig of black coffee. "They're practically the same thing, Sammy. Both in the South, so both are swamps." He replied, his eyes still blurred with sleep.

Sam grinned and pulled his laptop towards him. "So far there have been nine victims. I've done some research, and I can't find anything they have in common. It looks like some wolf went on a feeding frenzy."

"Good. They're always the most fun to kill," Dean said enthusiastically, with a mouthful of food. Sam cringed. "I'll bring the car around, you've got the bill, Sammy."

Dean stood up from the booth as his brother started to protest and clapped him firmly on the shoulder. "Towns only a few hours away, you can sleep on the way.”

"Great," Sam grumbled. "Then we can get a motel room tonight and talk to the witness in the morning."

"Witness?" Dean inquired, stopping in his tracks. "You never said anything about a witness."

"Just some guy named Raymond Chavez. The police interviewed him, but they couldn't get anything good out of him. Thought maybe we could take a crack at him."

"Poor guy probably saw the monster and didn't even realize what it was."

"Probably. That's why I thought we'd talk to him tomorrow."

Dean nodded in understanding and continued on his way, the door to the shabby diner shutting behind him.

—

Sam rummaged in the glove compartment of their car, searching through a mess of fake IDs, finally withdrawing the pair he wanted. He snickered upon seeing the names. "Hetfield and Ulrich? I thought we were passed the Metallica names."

Dean snatched the IDs from his brother's hands, "Shut up. Like a grocery store worker is going to recognize Metallica."

Sam chuckled. "Whatever. You want to get us caught, be my guest," he said, hopping out of the car. Dean frowned and grumbled to himself, exiting the car.

The brothers walked up the steps of the shabby house. The blue-gray paint was peeling off the sides of the house, leached by the constant sun. The lawn was overgrown and unkempt. Christmas lights still hung from the eaves, though they weren't plugged in.

The boys got their badges out and Sam knocked on the door. There was a crash from inside the house and the brothers glanced at each other. Sam reached out to knock again, but the door was flung open in a hurry.

The man standing before them was just as unkempt as the house itself. A wore a white shirt, stained by obvious beer stains. His jeans were unbuttoned and his belt was undone, as though he had just hastily thrown them on. His hair was a mess and he wore no shoes.

Dean grimaced and flashed a National Forest Service badge. "Mr. Chavez?"

The greasy-looking man nodded, pulling a toothpick from his pocket and sliding it in between his teeth in a failed attempt to look put together. "Tha's me," he grunted, with an obvious accent.

"Mr. Chavez, we wanted to talk to you about the animal attacks," said Sam.

Chavez's eyes went wide for a quarter of a second, then his brows furrowed. "I already talked to the police about tha'." He scratched nervously at his pitiful attempt at a beard, bristled whiskers poking out from his chin.

"We just have a few follow-up questions," said Dean . Chavez thought for a moment, then shrugged. "C'mon in then. Sorry 'bout the mess."

The brothers glanced at each other in surprise upon entering the man's home. The house was surprisingly clean, with only the occasional item loose. The place was even dusted.

"Were you expecting company or something?" Dean asked, scanning the place.

Chavez tensed, hardly even noticeable unless you were looking for it. He whipped his head around and glared at Dean. "Do ya have questions or not?" he snapped, sitting down in a worn old chair.

Dean scanned the chair, noticing tufts of hair on it. "Do you have a dog?"

"No. I was pet-sitting."

Sam paced the room, inspecting everything, while Dean questioned Chavez. "So you told the police you saw an animal attacking one of the victims," Dean clarified, pulling a small notebook and pen from his pocket.

"Yeah, tore right into his throat. Saw it rip out the poor guy's heart," he said, unfazed. "What time of the month was it?"

"I weren't on my period or nothin' if that's what yer asking." His irritation was obvious at this question and his voice slipped into more of a southern drawl. He shifted in his seat, crossing his legs loosely.

Dean looked taken aback by his comment, "No – I just meant, was it close to a full moon or anything like that?"

Chavez thought about it for a moment and then said, "I s'pose it was. Say, what kind of Forest Service guys are ya, anyway? What's a full moon got to do with any o' this?"

Sam and Dean glanced knowingly at each other, avoiding Chavez's questioning gaze. "We're just tracking down a particularly nasty wolf," Sam said. "It likes to hunt around that time."

"Not all month?"

Dean shrugged, "It's a weird one," he chuckled. He pursed his lips and met Sam's eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly, motioning for him to do something. Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver ring, glancing at Dean and showing it to him. His older brother nodded again and Sam slipped it onto his finger.

Chavez ignored the exchange, his fingers twitching nervously, and stood up. "If you fellas don't got any more questions, I got's to get to work," he said, stretching languidly.

Sam approached from behind, "We just have a few more questions for you." He placed his ringed hand on the man's exposed shoulder.

A sudden sizzling noise echoed in the room and Chavez shouted, breaking away from Sam and clutching his burned shoulder. Both boys reached behind them and drew their guns, aiming for the man. Chavez snickered, and shrugged with one arm, his other still covering his now charred wound. "Figured you two would be dumb enough to pass me by." He smirked and his once brown eyes flashed a dark forest green.

"Not likely. Take a seat, Raymond," said Dean, gesturing towards the chair. Chavez grimaced, but sat, glaring at the brothers.

"So here's how it's going to go," said Dean. "You play nice and tell us where the other werewolves are and you won't get hurt. Otherwise," Sam cracked his knuckles and Chavez glanced at him in fright, Dean grinned and continued, "- otherwise, I'll let my brother here do what he wants."

Raymond gulped and glanced between the brothers, back and forth obviously pondering his best course of action.

Finally, he gulped again and stared at Dean. "There's only one more. A girl."

"Where?"

"Not far out of town. Jes' take the highway north, it's the third turn off on the left. She lives there."

Dean scoffed, "And you're willing to sell her out that easily? You disgust me. You animals are meant to be a family."

Raymond smirked, yellow teeth showing. "She means nothing to me."

Sam glanced at Dean, and the older brother nodded. Sam raised his gun towards the werewolf's head. "Wait, wait!" shouted the werewolf, shuffling away from Sam. "I told you what you wanted, now let me go! I'll skip town, I won't come back, I'll even stop feeding! Just let me go!"

The brothers glanced at each other. Dean shrugged. "Might as well, not like he can do anything 'til the full moon. He's someone else's problem then."

Chavez breathed a plaintive sigh of relief. When he opened his eyes again, the boys were already gone, the roar of the Impala's engine speeding away into the distance.

Chavez smiled.

—

The Winchesters turned off the highway down a beaten dirt road, the tires easily slipping into the worn grooves in the road. They rounded the corner of the road to come face to face with a large, pale blue, ranch-style home in the middle of a large clearing. A sizable barn and another building, which looked like a bunkhouse, were positioned behind the house and painted in the same blue color. The clearing was wide and full of light, surrounded by many towering trees. The trees blocked the view of the house from the road. The house and property were well cared for and decorative flowers littered the area.

"A werewolf lives here?" questioned Dean skeptically, glancing up at the house as he got out of the car.

"According to the other one-" Sam started, but promptly cut himself off. Dean glanced over at him and opened his mouth, but Sam immediately shushed him, withdrawing his gun from his belt. Sam pointed to the side of a beaten old pickup truck, where a bag of groceries lay on the ground, the contents spilling out.

Dean drew his gun and paced towards the truck. He placed his hand over the hood and quickly withdrew it.

"Still warm," he whispered to Sam. The younger brother gestured towards the house, gun still raised, and together they moved silently towards the structure. The front door was slightly ajar, and Sam pushed it open, gesturing for Dean to go first. Dean rolled his eyes and stepped into the house.

They entered into a well-decorated living and dining area, with expensive furnishings. The ceilings were tall and dark oak beams held the ceiling up, giving it a cottage sort of feel. Several large-scale windows lined the left wall of the house, bright light filtering in. To the right was a staircase heading up towards a sizable loft.

Dean lowered his gun and turned to Sam, "I don't think anyone's home-"

A large black mass fell from the loft and flattened Dean to the ground, his gun falling from his hand. He shouted in shock, attempting to get the mass off of him before it crushed his chest.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, raising his gun and taking aim.

"Shoot it Sam!" Dean shouted back, desperation in his voice. The thing snapped its jaws at Dean's throat, the elder Winchester doing his best to keep it away.

"I can't, I'll hit you!" Sam screamed.

The thing clawed at Dean and a spray of blood hit the back of the couch. Dean yelled and pushed the thing off of him. He attempted to stand, claw marks raking down his right arm.

"What the hell is that thing!?" he exclaimed, dodging as the thing flung itself at him and onto the front porch. The thing kept running down the steps and paused a few yards from the front steps. It turned, its furious golden eyes piercing the brothers. Sam held his brother and both of their eyes widened.

"It's a wolf," Sam whispered, lowering his gun.

"What the hell is a wolf doing-" Dean didn't get to finish his sentence. The wolf charged towards them again, tackling Sam to the ground, snapping its monstrous jaws at Sam's throat and his gun slipping out of his hand. "Sam!" he shouted.

The wolf howled, sinking its claws into Sam's arms. He screamed and threw the animal off; it collided roughly with the wall, tumbling to the floor. On shaky legs, the beast stood and shook out its dark fur, standing to its full height. Its head was easily shoulder height on Dean, standing at about five feet tall.

"That is not a normal wolf!" shouted Sam, regaining his breath. Dean lunged for his brother's fallen gun, realizing with panic that they hadn't loaded their weapons with silver. He raised his newfound gun towards the wolf as it snarled at him, lunging for his throat.

The gun went off.

The wolf howled and fell back, its now injured leg flailing wildly in the air. A horrendous snarl escaped its lips as it hobbled to a standing position, leaning against the wall, yellow eyes blazing with hatred and fury that the brothers had never seen in another animal's eyes. Dean raised his gun again, aiming for the wolf's head. His stony features morphed to shock as the wolf's face began to change. The snout shortened, the ears shifted and the warm gold of the animal's eyes dampened.

His eyes widened as the wolf's form took the shape of a young woman, no more than twenty-four years old. Her eyes seemed to glow a bright shade as they locked with him. Before either brother even had time to register what had happened, the woman lunged for Dean's gun still laying in the doorway, and aimed it at Dean.

"Don't... move..." she said breathlessly. Blood stained her shirt from where the bullet had pierced her skin, though it appeared to have only grazed her. She hissed through gritted teeth and Dean's eyes widened as the skin around the wound trickled with blood, already thickening into a thin scab. She slipped one foot behind her and held her gun with a sense of confidence. She held the weapon in an easy, practiced grip.

Sam shifted his weight and held his hands up in mock surrender. He leaned his weight against the wall and slowly stood. She whipped to the right to face him and shot a warning shot over his shoulder.

"I said don't move!" she screamed, chest heaving with fury and anticipation.

"Woah, hey!" Dean shouted, waving his hands in front of him. "Listen lady, put the gun down, and let's talk!"

"Why would I want to talk to a couple of hunters that are trying to kill me!?"

Dean chuckled and shrugged, offering a charming, almost apologetic smile. "Well... we aren't trying to kill you now?" He smiled hopefully.

Her brows furrowed and she lowered the weapon slightly, staring over the barrel. "I've never done anything to warrant hunters coming after me. Why are you here?" she spat, finger resting loosely on the trigger, barrel aimed for Dean's chest rather than his head. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if that was an improvement.

"We figured there was a werewolf in the area,” Sam explained calmly, eyes flicking between the monster and his brother. "We tracked it here, then found the witness. Turns out the witness was a-"

"Shit!" she exclaimed, causing both men to jump in surprise. She lowered the weapon until it was aimed at the ground at her feet. "Weaselly looking guy, goes by Raymond?"

Sam blinked twice in confusion. "Yeah, how-"

The girl cut him off again, laughing. "Are you two new at this or something? You never trust the monster!" She laughed again, clutching her stomach. "First of all, you're not hunting a werewolf."

The boys glared at her and Dean rolled his eyes, pursing his lips. "Yeah, no shit. Mind telling us what we are hunting?"

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes, frowning at the brothers as though she couldn't believe they were that stupid. "You boys ever heard of a skinwalker?"

Sam quickly glanced toward Dean in confusion. His brow creased with worry as he watched his brother's sarcastic features morph into shock. "I thought skinwalkers were wiped out?" Sam questioned, looking between the two.

"No," Dean said, glaring at his brother. "No, dad hunted one years ago. You were barely out of diapers," his voice was dripping with awe and shock. "Don't think dad ever managed to get it- always thought it was one step ahead." He narrowed his eyes in suspicion and folded his arms over his chest, finger tapping the trigger of the gun. "Last successful skinwalker hunt I heard of was- what, maybe eighty years ago? Bunch of hunters think they're extinct."

"Skinwalkers aren't common," the girl interjected. "We like to stay hidden."

Sam snapped his gaze up to meet hers. "You're a skinwalker?"

She rolled her eyes again. "How else am I supposed to turn into a wolf? Magic?" She threw up her hands in exasperation, then clutched her bleeding arm, gun resting loosely in her hands. She wasn't too worried — it wasn't a silver bullet, so she would heal quickly.

"So you're buddy, Raymond-" Dean started.

"-He's not my buddy-"

"- is also a Skinwalker? Why'd he sell you out?"

The girl paused for a moment, thinking about her answer. "There's a pack near here, set up shop about six months ago. They only started killing people recently though. Used to hunt animals, kept a low profile."

"And you're not part of the pack?" Sam questioned, knowing monsters like werewolves tended to rove in groups. Skinwalkers were thought to be cousins to werewolves, as they had similar qualities, such as a vulnerability to silver and an infectious bite. He assumed the pack mentality would be the same.

"No," she snapped bitterly. "I'd never hurt people. I hunt animals, try to stay out of people’s way, y’know? Besides, I was here first; this is my uncle's place. I moved in with him a few years ago, and he left the place to me." She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and her eyes quickly swept over the house.

"Where's your uncle now?" Sam inquired, a tinge of concern in his voice.

"He's dead. Died a little over a year ago, on a wraith hunt."

"He was a hunter?"

"One of the best. So was my mom, before she got bit," she frowned at the brothers and threw her hands up in a gesture that was meant to say 'obviously.' "So yeah, I was kind of raised to not eat people."

She hung her head a bit and placed her hands on her hips, eyes fixated on a now-distant past. The brothers watched her for a few moments, taking in her appearance. Her dirty jeans had scuffed knees and were frayed around the edges, by her ankles. Roughened combat boots were tied tightly to her feet and an oversized denim jacket rested loosely over her shoulders, one sleeve now stained with blood.

Dean took in a nervous breath. The girl glanced up at him and the light highlighted the bags under her eyes. "Why does the pack want you dead?" he asked.

The girl paused again as if wondering how much to give away. She furrowed her brows in thought before once again meeting their eyes. "Packs have a hierarchy. Biggest dog is in charge. You only get to easily be the biggest if you're a pure-blooded skinwalker." Her eyes jumped between the boys, gauging their reaction. They still looked as confused as ever. She sighed and began picking at the bloody fabric of her jacket. The blood from her wound already seemed to be clotted.

"Pure-bloods... are ones who have two parents that were skinwalkers too. My mom... she was turned before I was born. My dad was pure-blooded. He was second-generation." She met Dean's eyes, a challenging glare set upon her features. "That makes me a third-generation skinwalker. A rarity in the monster world. Makes me top dog in a pack, something I don't want, and certainly not something an insecure alpha would want."

The room was silent. The only sound came from the wind quietly billowing through the open front door. "He's afraid you'll take his pack?" Sam asked, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She nodded.

Dean glared at the floor, his fists tightened. "Whatever reason he has to kill you doesn't matter. He still needs to be stopped - he can't just keep killing people." Sam nodded in agreement, holstering his gun and wiping his sweating palms on his jeans.

Dean turned to the girl and locked eyes with her, his green eyes cold. "You should leave. You don't want to be here when we take out the pack." He threw the last few words over his shoulder as he turned to exit the house, holstering the gun.

She scoffed at him, "You really expect to defeat a pack of fifteen skinwalkers, maybe more, on your own? Are you two amateurs, or did you hit your heads too hard?"

Dean visibly bristled, his back tensing as he whipped around and snarled, "What do you expect us to do!? We can either take them out or die trying!"

"I expect," she started, taking a few steps towards the porch, a surprisingly menacing glare adorning her features, "for you to take me with you."

Dean's mouth fell open in surprise and his eyebrows raised. "You want to help us?"

She flashed an almost wolfish grin, "Well yeah, how else do you expect to win a fight like this?" She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled widely. "Frankly, I'm tired of that asshole alpha harassing me and killing people. I just want a peaceful life, you know?"

Sam glanced nervously between the girl and his brother as Dean contemplated the pros and cons of the situation.

Pro: Another fighter that could help them win the fight.

Con: She might turn on them and attack them.

Pro: They're less likely to die.

Con: She might turn on them and attack them-

"Alright fine!" he exclaimed, "Fine. You can come with us."

She cheered, throwing her arms into the air in excitement. "About time you two decide to do something smart!"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Whatever Scooby, just get in the damn car. And don't get fur on the upholstery."

"Wouldn't dream of it," her smirk audible in her words.

"Just get in fido."

"It's not 'fido'-" she grumbled, climbing into the backseat. The engine started with a loud purr and Dean rolled easily out of the gravel driveway. He met her gaze in the rearview mirror as her name fell from her lips.

—

I glowered thoughtfully at Sam from my place on his bed in their dusty motel room, legs crossed and fingers drumming rhythmically against my thigh. The brothers were focused on packing, shoving various weapons into duffel bags. The barrel of a sawed-off shotgun poked out of the duffel bag Sam was filling.

The younger Winchester lifted his head and met my cold gaze, fixated on the weapon. His eyes glanced down at the shotgun and he laughed softly. "Not everyone can fight with literal tooth and nail."

I collapsed backward on the bed and splayed my arms out by my sides. The only thing left from my fading bullet wound was a scab. Truthfully, I wished it would heal immediately – this fight was not going to be an easy one, and the brothers would need all the help they could get.

I huffed and folded my arms over my chest, glaring up at the ceiling. I hated fighting. Sure, I was used to it – my uncle had taught me how to fight and I had been on several hunts with him – but that didn't mean I enjoyed it. I shivered at the thought of killing, the taste of blood and malleable flesh all too familiar on my tongue. The kind of food humans ate would tide me over, but it wasn't enough to satiate my hunger.

"I could always bite you," I offered playfully, redirecting my attention away from my thoughts and back towards Sam. "Then you could fight 'tooth and nail.'" I sat up, resting my weight on my elbows. I liked him – he was smart, and to my surprise he didn't blink twice about my situation. The fact that I was a monster meant nothing to him.

"No thanks. I'd prefer to not shed constantly," he joked, a smirk adorning his lips. I scoffed, to which he laughed. "Just a personal preference." 

I don’t shed that much.

The door to the motel room burst open and I bounced on the bed in surprise, yelping at the sudden noise. Dean waltzed into the room, a smug grin on his lips as he dumped a mess of silver weapons on the bed beside me. I flinched and glared at the weapons that could easily kill me.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, a comical tone to his voice.

"No, you're not," I growled and shuffled away from the mess of silver. Invulnerability created a sort of superiority complex in most monsters. We were likely to be more reckless, knowing few things could kill us. Seeing one of those few things beside me was not something I relished.

"You're right, I'm not," Dean teased with a click of his tongue and a playful grin. He grabbed a pistol and a rag and wiped off the barrel.

"Fuck off," I grumbled crassly. The silver had certainly put me in a bad mood, making this approaching fight seem more real, more solid. I rolled off the bed and moved to the other side to help him organize. Dean only smiled at my comment, eyes never leaving his silver and white gun. "When are we planning on attacking these mutts?" I questioned.

I was eager to get rid of Chikaltio and his rag-tag pack. Seven months of that bastard harassing me and threatening my life was enough for me. I was so tired of it. Tired of not being able to go into town and buy my groceries without being snarled at. Tired of not being safe in my own home.

I didn't want to fight him. I hated the idea of challenging him, of potentially killing him – I didn't want to take over his pack, and I certainly didn't want to be responsible for another living being's death. Animals were one thing, people were… different. I had caused enough death in the past.

"Probably tomorrow," Sam said, checking his watch. My ears pricked, rejoining the conversation after being lost in thought. "It's already late, they'd have the drop on us at night."

"Not if you mask your scent," I suggested, just wanting the fight to be over. I wanted my life back.

"We wouldn't be able to see them," argued Dean. "We don't have night vision, like you."

I scoffed. "I don't have night vision.” I clarified, pointing a silver knife at Dean in a matter-of-fact way. "Dogs can see about five times better in the dark than a human can. I, no matter what you might think, am not a dog."

"So how much better are your eyes?" Sam asked, curiosity dripping into his voice.

I shrugged and ran a cloth over the blade of the knife. "About three times better."

Now Dean scoffed. "Right, you obviously can't see that much better."

"I never said I couldn't see that much better. I just said I don't have night vision."

"Yeah, whatever makes you feel better about yourself, Scooby," Dean muttered, intending to sound scornful, but he couldn't help the smile that slipped onto his face.

Sam chuckled from across the room. "Aren't you two supposed to be getting things ready for tomorrow?"

"We can multitask, Sammy," countered Dean, tossing a small bullet at his brother. Sam caught it and placed it on the desk.

"Are you two always like this before a hunt?" I inquired, shifting as far away from the flying silver bullets as possible.

"Not always. Dean is usually less annoying," Sam said, brushing another stray bullet out of his hair.

"Dean not being annoying? Is that possible?" I teased, feigning shock and placing a hand over my heart in surprise. I was beginning to like these boys – they were fun-loving and full of life, unlike the previous hunters I had known. Granted, those two hunters had been my mother and uncle, and they had seen some things that would make anyone less cheerful.

"Alright you two, knock it off. This isn't National Pick-On-Dean Day," Dean sneered, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. My eyes followed his movements, scanning his face, eyes jumping between his freckles and green eyes. I had to admit, he was handsome.

"Shame. I bet that would be my favorite day of the year," I countered. Dean glared playfully and dropped his hand, reaching for another gun.

"Get back to polishing those knives," he ordered jokingly.

"Sure thing, boss."

—

The room was dark except for the occasional flash of lights, signaling a car drifting slowly down the highway. I listened to the passing cars and the voices of people in rooms nearby, furry ears pricked and at attention.

Nighttime was my favorite time. Everyone was finally quiet, peaceful, and no longer bothersome. I didn't feel overwhelmed by the amount of noise and the smells. I didn't need to worry about what people thought when they saw me, a massive black wolf with searing golden eyes, or a battered young woman with scars littering her body.

I could be myself.

My tail thumped quietly on the side of the couch, chin resting on dark paws, claws resting on the leather surface of the couch. I focused my attention on the argument a couple was having six rooms down. They weren't even trying to be quiet.

I hated hearing people argue. It brought a familiar feeling of helplessness up my throat, making it hard to breathe. I had grown so used to arguments in my teenage years that I thought fights and throwing items were completely normal. Now, knowing that was the opposite, I hated the memories it dredged up. I made a low grunting sound in the back of my throat and lifted my head, black fur brushing against the leather couch. At this time of night, I'd usually be running outside, hunting, playing. Just enjoy being in my fur. I couldn't wait until Chikaltio was gone and I didn't need to worry about where I ran or who I ran into.

I hopped off the smooth couch, sharp claws digging into the plush motel carpet. A short run wouldn't hurt, right?

My claws had just barely touched the linoleum by the door when I heard a soft rustling from behind. With languid movements, I turned my furry head to see Dean glaring at me in the dark, his green eyes filled with sleep.

"Where do you think you're going?" he questioned, his voice raw from sleep. I found it odd how quickly he had grown accustomed to my inhuman abilities. It was pleasant, knowing I was accepted when often I didn't accept myself.

My hackles raised as I began to shift, fur receding and bones cracking, rearranging under my skin. I straightened my spine and stretched, feeling my muscles and joints pop from the stress of changing form.

"I was going to go for a run. Is that a problem?" I cocked an eyebrow.

Dean hummed, sitting up. "It's a bit of a problem. How do I know you aren't going to go tell the other skinwalkers about us?"

I rolled my eyes], though I was sure Dean couldn't see the gesture. For him, the room must have seemed pitch black, rather than the gentle shadows I saw. "I'm sure Chavez has already told the pack. You weren't very discrete with your intentions. I bet they also know that you didn't kill me."

"Even more reason for you to stay here," he challenged. "If they know you're not dead, they might be looking for you. You said it yourself - we can't fight them on our own, and you're no help if you're dead."

"I doubt some blockhead mastiff could kill me."

"Doesn't mean I want them to try."

I averted my eyes, gaze dropping to the floor, and picked at the hem of my shirt. Was he saying that because I was just part of the case, or because he really cared? It had been so long since I had met anyone who truly cared for me. I lifted my gaze to meet his green eyes, surprised to find them warm and full of concern.

"For a hunter, you seem pretty charismatic," I murmured. My uncle had held that same gaze when I showed up at his doorstep years ago. Dean, although rough around the edges, seemed to really care for the people he helped, monster or not. I admired that.

"For a monster, you seem pretty human," he countered. I bristled, insecurity fluttering in my chest. If only he knew some of the things I had done. Would he still see me as human?

Finding nothing of note in his steely gaze, I dropped my eyes and once again became interested in the hem of my oversized shirt. I picked at the loose strings of the ragged hem. Dean rolled onto his back, his eyes latching onto the ceiling. "You should get some sleep. It's a big day tomorrow."

"It's hard for me to sleep at night. It's kind of an instinct to want to be out there, to run."

He smiled, tucking his hands behind his head. "You can run all you want tomorrow, after this hunt. But for now-" he locked his eyes with mine, "- for now, you should get some sleep." I pondered this for a moment and then finally nodded.

This time, my feet hit the plush carpet rather than sharp nails. I slid onto the couch, cold leather pressing against my skin and my mind racing with several thoughts. A part of me was eager for tomorrow's fight, knowing that at the end of the day I may finally have my freedom back. But, another, more realistic side of me knew that the day may end poorly. I may end the day cold and bathing in my own blood, the brothers, who I was already so fond of, missing pieces.

"Goodnight," I mumbled, half expecting him to already be asleep.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

[mixvyu]

Parfum d’étoile - episode twelve part two

scaramouche x reader smau

previous | masterlist | next

★-

"Weren’t you suppose to be smart?"

"Fuck off Scaramouche, this shit just doesn’t make sense how am I supposed to link those three completely different subjects together?"

"I hate to side up with him, i really do, i swear, but it’s actually kind of easy frankly the hardest is to pick which info we keep and which one we ditch."

You could Scaramouche snicker beside you but you decided not to give him the time of day

"Let’s just save that and come back to it later, yeah?" You suggested, trying to shift the conversation to another topic.

“It’s getting late we should probably just call it a day" Kazuha said, looking at the time on his phone.

"Thank gods i don’t think i could spend one more minute working with her" Scaramouche added, pulling out his own phone "What do you guys want to eat?"

"Aww, you’re not throwing me out? I’m flattered, Kuni." you emphasised both of the syllables of the nickname.

You could hear Kazuha choke on his 4th cup of tea of the evening "Wow I didn’t know you guys were close like that" he said in between coughs.

"Neither did I. Don’t call me that." Scaramouche replied, almost instantly, while looking deep into your eyes. The humour in his demeanour long forgotten.

"Why does Kazuha get to call you that but I can’t? It’s unfair if you ask me." you said, trying to lighten up the mood even just a little bit.

"I’ve known him for more than a decade it’s completely different." discomfort settled in before Scaramouche continued with a more lighthearted tune "What food do you like, Y/N?" The question made you sigh in relief. Maybe he wasn’t mad, maybe it just caught him off guard.

"I like Italian food!" You exclaimed enthusiastically at the thought of a meal that you wouldn’t have to pay with the small amount of money left in your bank account.

"Ok so not that. Kazuha?" Scaramouche followed, eyes focusing on the other man beside you.

"Japanese sounds good right now" he answered immediately. He looked so focused on the ceiling on top of him the fact that he even listened to Scaramouche’s question had you shocked.

"Can’t believe you out of all people is letting me down."

"Sorry, a sacrifice had to be made." Kazuha teased, still looking at the beige ceiling

Scaramouche replies a lazy "mkay" to his friends request and gets up to call a japanese restaurant he apparently already had in his contact, probably because of the frequency of take-out the two boys regularly ordered. Judging by the fact that he hadn’t asked any of you what you wanted to order, you assumed he already had his and Kazuha’s orders memorised and that you’d just have to be okay with whatever he’d order for you.

If he even ordered for you, that is.

"What in the world possessed you to call him that?" Kazuha hushed voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

He wasn’t looking above him anymore and gave you what appeared to be an alarmed looked.

You didn’t get what he was talking about at first, but without thinking much you realised this was about you stealing the nickname he used for Scaramouche and the not-so-great reaction that followed.

"I just wanted to get his reaction, didn’t think he’d get all serious." You explained. It was simply reasoning really.

"Yeah, he really doesn’t like his birthname. At all."

"Why?"

"Uh… I think it’d be best to ask him directly." Kazuha said, looking away for the first time during the conversation

"He’d kill me if i did that!" you whispered-yelled

He looked back at you, then looked to the left. He seemed deep in reflexion, pouting a little and letting out a small "mm" sound before staring at you again "I don’t think he’d do more than manhandle you a bit, frankly, maybe a punch of two."

"Why are you acting like it’s nothing much?? I don’t want to get punched or manhandled! At all!" You grabbed your own cheeks out of instinct, as if you were protecting yourself from Scaramouche’s imminent hit.

"Then you’ll have to live in ignorance." he shrugged, grabbing one of the snacks on the table before realising that dinner will arrive any time soon and putting it back down.

"Can’t you tell me instead?" You pleaded, attempting to woo him with puppy dog eyes

"I don’t want to be the one he’ll pick a fight with." The wooing was ineffective

"I sacrificed Italian for japanese food, you can sacrifice that!" you were shaking him by now, you’re sure that, if he’d ask, you’d go as far as to plead on your knees for him to give you the answer you so deeply wanted.

"It’s not remotely close! You can have Italian later but i can’t get unbeaten up!" He said, still whispering

"You’re just a coward."

"What are you guys whispering about?" Scaramouche came back, having seemingly finished his phone call.

You were sweating a bit and your eyes were wide open, you looked like you’ve be caught red handed.

A long "uhh" left your mouth, you looked back at Kazuha hoping he’d be the one to find a non-suspicious reply to give to the man standing in front of you both.

"You."

You wanted to slap him so badly.

"What about me?" Scaramouche raised an eyebrow, suddenly curious of the topic you guys were discussing, and you couldn’t blame him : if someone told you they’ve been murmuring about you behind your back (literally), you’d be curious too.

"Y/N wanted to know why you changed your name."

You kicked Kazuha’s legs and he let out a soft, almost inaudible, "ow"

Scaramouche squinted, analysing your face. You gulped nervously, praying that there was an option other than the punching or manhandling.

"Not telling." He simply said, making a "umph" sound as he crossed his arms.

You simply looked at Kazuha, who was already looking at you, amused.

"Sorry, i might have exaggerated." he stated, a huge grin creeping on his face

Before you could curse him out he got off of the sofa for the first time in hours. Right as he got up, the purple head let himself fall down on your other side, apparently tired from standing for 5 minutes.

"I’ll go get the cans of beer i bought" the white and red haired man said, stretching before making his way to the kitchen

"You bought beer?" Scaramouche asked enthusiastically

"What? You didn’t even unload the groceries?" You could both hear him from the small kitchen, the sound of rustling through the groceries he bought some hours ago making itself audible

"No, I was lazy so I just put the bag up on the counter and left."

Kazuha sighed and mumbled "There was ice cream in there…"

He came back a few seconds afterwards, a pack of six cans in hands.

"Ooh nice." Frankly, you didn’t really like the taste of beer but maybe drinking with the two guys would make you all closer and you were excited at the thought.

Scaramouche leaned in and whispered into your ear "Don’t get too excited, he’ll drink all of this before you even get the chance to lay your hand on one of the can. He has a serious substance abuse problem."

"Maybe you should call a doctor or do an intervention or something." you whispered back

"He’ll be fine. Probably."

— timeskip :3

Not even 2 hours later, Kazuha was already asleep. His lower back resting on your laps and his head on Scaramouche’s who used that as an opportunity to play with his friend’s hair, undoing his signature ponytail and trying out a variety of haircut on his longer hair.

A comfortable silent had installed itself, only the soft sound of the raindrops crashing against the window was audible.

Your phone was next to you but the idea of being on it during the moment felt impolite. You glanced at Scaramouche, for the nth time since Kazuha fell asleep, a small smile was plastered on his face.

Being abled to run his fingers through Kazuha's seemingly soft hair apparently made him euphoric.

The sight of the two boys made you chuckle, a chuckle that Scaramouche caught up on.

"What's so funny ?"

"You look so happy, it's unsettling."

"I never get to touch his hair, it's super soft."

The conversation ended here but, for some reason, you wanted to keep the conversation going.

"I didn't know they made them cropped."

"Huh?" Scaramouche finally looked up to you.

"The compression shirts. I didn't know that there was cropped ones."

"Ooh!" He looked down at his shirt as if he'd forgetten which one he put on "I don't know if they exist cropped. I cut this one myself to show off the piercings." he let out a chuckle, a low one, before staring back down at Kazuha's sleeping face.

You looked up at the clock.

10:29pm

The gates of the school closed at 11:30 which meant you still had an hour to learn more about the boy next to you.

Scaramouche had always intrigued you but now that you were closer to him you really wanted to get the answers for all the questions in your mind.

You looked at his face deeply, analyzing the features of his face.

Scaramouche really was a pretty boy. Big purple eyes complimented by the red eyeliner he wore everyday, porcelain skin, long fingers and a small frame. He looked so ethreal, almost like a doll.

Scaramouche picked up on the looks you gave him, he could feel you staring without even looking at you.

"If you have something to say just say it."

‘You look really pretty’ was what you wanted to say to him— because he did look really pretty.

But you uttered something completely different in the end,

"Why’d you change your name?"

He groaned before looking up at you for the second time in an hour.

"I didn’t like it. I already told you."

"Yeah but why?"

"Why do you even care anyway?"

"I don’t know, you’re an interesting guy, i just want to get to know you more." You shrugged as he raised his eyebrows, not really convinced by what you were saying.

Since he wasn’t replying you added "You don’t have to tell me! It’s just— I’m just curious is all."

He chuckles lightly and says in a serious tone "I know I don’t have to, I don’t owe you anything."

Silence installed itself again.

God why did you have to be so pushy about it ? He obviously didn’t want to tell you, it’s some personal issue that he only share with his best friend, you’re not remotely close enough to be given the same amount of trust than his best friend of a decade. He was warming up to you and you ruined everything : Why do you always ruin everything?

You fidgeted with your fingers, trying to find something to make it up to him. Maybe you should just apologise again or—

"It’s just that…" all of the thoughts in your head suddenly went quiet as he started to speak "…I don’t like the history behind that name. It being related to my mom and all, you know?"

You actually did not know.

You never heard about Scaramouche’s mom before so hearing him mention her was surprising.

"Ooh so it’s like a mommy kink typa thing!"

"I’m pretty sure you meant mommy issues but whatever." he sighs before mumbling "I don't even know why I'm telling you that."

"I won't call you that again if it makes you uncomfortable"

"No, it's fine, you don't have to stop."

"Scaramouche?"

"God, what now?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

The man in front of you paused before straightening his back and laughing softly

"What's with all the questions?"

"Dunno, just curious I guess. Don't you think it's fun? It's like 21 questions."

"21 questions? How old are you?"

"You're the one that wanted to play last time"

"Really? I don't remember that."

"I know you do stop lying."

"Why do you even care ?"

"Just say you're a loser virgin, no need to circle around it."

"it's the pot calling the kettle black." he mumbled

"What did you say ?"

"Nothing. No I'm not dating anyone."

"Not even Kazuha ?"

"He's just with me for money, i don't surround myself with that kind of people." He answered while braiding the man's hair ironically.

"Oh so you did know!"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing! I don't mean anything!"

"What about you?"

"Me? I didn't even know you wee rich before Kazuha said it"

"No dumbass! I was asking if you were dating anyone."

A huge grin crept on your face "Why? You wanna take me on a date? I'm flattered really but I'm not interested, sorry."

"I wouldn't go on a date with you even if my life depended on it."

"No I'm not dating anyone. I'm not the kind of person people want to kiss apparently." You laughed quietly

'God why did i say that' you wanted to slap yourself—the last comment was really unnecessary.

"You think so ?" Scaramouche asked but you didn't answer. He continued anyway " I'd kiss you."

"What?"

"Huh? I said I'd kiss you." He repeated, nonchalantly.

You were sure that he just said that to tease you and that he'd reply a sing-songy "Nothing" when you questionned him, but he looked as serious as ever.

"Ah- uh really ? You think ?"

"Sure, probably."

You looked at the clock again and Scaramouche's gaze followed yours.

10:58pm

"Is it time for you to go home ?"

You nodded yes subconsciously even though it was a lie, you still had 30 more minutes before the gate would close.

"I'll help you clean up before I leave" You said looking over at the table decorated by dozens of sheets, multiple empty cups of tea, various snacks, an opened small packages of edibles that magically appeared into Kazuha's hands during the evening, empty Dr. Pepper and beer cans and three dirty plates stacked on top of each other.

"It's fine, it's not a huge mess I can take care of that myself."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah it should take me 5 mins at best. Let's go, I'll walk you home."

"Oh you don't have to!"

"It's 11pm and your house is close anyway, it's fine."

"I wouldn't want to bother you."

"God you're so fucking annoying, let's just go!"

"Ok! Ok! Geez..."

— timeskip :3

The walk back home was bathed in silence. You wanted to speak up but you knew how much the man beside you hated small talk.

You don't know when exactly you became cautious of what he might think of you knowing that you would've done everything to see him in pain just a week prior.

Maybe it was because he was rapidly warming up to you for some reason, probably because of the proximity forced onto the both of you; you talked to him more these past 3 days than you ever did in the 2 years of being his classmate and self-proclaimed rival.

You didn't know why but you liked the feeling of being closer to Scaramouche, despite all the rumours he was easy to talk to and you could now imagine how a man like Kazuha would find himself drawn to him.

If Lumine could hear you she'd be dissapointed.

Even though he was kind of nice, you still hated parts of him especially those cocky smiles he'd give you that signified that he thought he was better than you in every way, shape or form, or the fact that he always seemed to surpass you in grades but still didn't put up any work while on the project a few hours earlier.

God he was so fucking annoying.

You couldn't refrain yourself from slapping him in the back of the head harshly.

"Ow!" he exclaimed loudly, more surprised than actual hurt "What the fuck was that for?!"

"You're so fucking annoying, Kuni." it was your second time using the nickname and you hoped that he wouldn’t react badly this time.

"I didn't do anything! I-! You-! I wasn't even talking!"

"Your aura threw me off."

"Yeah well I'm sorry my aura isn't good enough for you!"

"I appreciate the apology. You should go home now."

"What so you're just going hit me and throw me away? That's hurtful."

"I live right around the corner and it's..." you checked your phone "...11:13 so you should probably head back. Plus you're tired so you should just sleep."

"Tired? I'm not tired, what are you talking about?"

"Huh? Didn't you say you started talking nonsense when you were tired ?"

"When did I speak nonsense?" it was a real question this time, just by his face you could understand that he was currently replaying the entire day in his head and asking himself when he fucked up

"I mean you literally said you'd kiss me" You looked confused but not as confused as Scaramouche was

"Yeah and I meant that."

"Just- Just go home, Scaramouche."

"Ok, whatever. Goodnight, Y/N"

"Mhm" You managed to mumble before he walked away

God why were you like this??

Extras :

Why do I write Kazuha and Scara so homo w each other

Sorry for the late update (i have absolutely no excuse)

In the draft i worked on at first Y/N and Scara almost kissed before Kazuha called and interrupted them but i decided against it jst because

You ever just write something , think "it's cringe" to yourself but still post it or is it just a me thing

Scara defo fell to his knees and screamed into his hand after turning a corner

Taglist! [open]

@gekkow @aemiko @veekoko @kichiyoshi @scaramouchelover4ever @sukunasrealgf @lxkeeeee @kunisblog @yukiipc @brfrtbrt @simpforsubmissivemen @featuredtofu @fanfictionenthusiast @beriiov @lyzisbitchingagain @bluebelony @ryomiye @reinoodle @bananasquash @mikukksks @sakiimeo @kitanablades @pennyluvr @sakurapeach @crystalsguitar @feiherp @deluluangel @gracefulace200 @apinu @elernity @st4romii @ahseya @yelleloww @prettiestgirlxoxo @yoichiislovie @silly-ez @mitsu-moshi

[fuzzysocksstuff]

Leo has been the leader since day one

Alright, I haven't seen this conversation yet, but I can't be the only one who's noticed this. This isn't my usual post- not that I post often- but art is WIP.

~aannnnyyway~

Leo has been the (back seat) leader of the Mad Dogs since day one.

Mobile users, RIP no seriously, you are digging your own grave

In the first two episodes he shows his potential, he thinks ahead, guides the team, makes astute observations, shows his knowledge of his team (including himself), and makes his own plans (even if Raph has made a plan, he almost always has his own).

I'll go through the first two episodes chronologically.

First is Mystic Mayhem.

-This is a good example of understanding himself-

Leo: So . . . You guys from Jersey?

Mikey: Really Leo?

Leo: What? I can't make a joke in the middle of the craziest thing ever? That's how I cope.

-Leo stops his brothers and forces them to think ahead-

Mikey: Should we just ask him for it?

Leo: And what do we say when he asks us why we want it? That we need to go after our best friend, who disappeared into a wall after our priceless weapons were destroyed by mystical jogger guys?

-Not only is Leo showing how well he knows his dad, he executes his own plan when Raph's first plan fails, without asking his brothers first-

Raph: How'd you get that?

Leo: You know he always passes out after milk and cake.

-Now, this example is a debatable one, yes it shows his understanding of Raph, but it may also just be to shown to establish relationships in general since this was the first episode-

Donnie: A few hours ago I would have called this foolish and impossible. Now I just call it foolish.

Mikey: Say what you want Donnie. Raph'll pull is off 'cause if he doesn't, we'll loose our best friend forever.

Leo: Mikey, don't say that. You know he chokes under pressure.

Donnie: Leo, he's even more self-conscious when you talk about it.

-Here, while happy to see April again, he keeps the team on the task that got them in the hidden city in the first place. It can be argued if this was on purpose or not; but it still showcases his natural ability to lead-

Donnie: According to my calculations, we are in a tertiary-metaverse.

April: Actually, I've been doing some exploring, and we're in a hidden city deep under New York!

Leo: So where's the dog thingy?

-There are even subtle moments where Leo takes the lead; after Donnie takes out Draxum's robot with his tech, Leo is the only one talking to Draxum directly for the team. This is another debatable example, you could say Leo is just being the face man here, but I'd like to include it-

Draxum: Accidently impressive. With a little bit of training you can be formidable as I hoped.

Leo: Okay, well, great, and since you're surrendering. . .

Draxum: Baron Draxum does not surrender.

Leo: Okay, well, when he gets here we'll deal with him. . . oh, ho, ho, I see. You're doing that whole "sinister talking in the third person" thing.

-Here, he is the only one to once again question Raph's decision, and present his own idea instead-

Raph: We just defeated a boss villain. We're heroes. We deserve a name like Mad Dogs.

Leo: Mad dogs? You don't think something like Mutant Ninja Turtle Teens or. . .I don't know. Maybe - we'll keep brain storming.

The very next episode has soooo many parallels to the movie.

Origami Tsunami.

The dialog is long on this one and, despite the humor, throughout this scene Leo guides his brothers to the best mission for their skill level.

Mikey: Yo, Leo, we're gonna be heroes!

Leo: Okay, what's the plan? Solve the city's rat problem?

Splinter: Hey now. I am standing right here.

Raph: Pfft, no way. We're crime fighters!

Donnie: Okay, check this out. The Spine Breaking Bandit!

Raph: Yeah. Go big or go home!

Leo: Yeah, go home in a stretcher. What else you got?

Donnie: Hmm, well this one's kind of lame. Someone stole paper from a delivery truck.

Leo: Not on my watch! This is exactly the kind of junior level mischief we can put an end to.

-Leo then hypes his brothers up for this mission-

Raph: Really? That'll make us heroes? But it's only paper.

Leo: It's only paper. I'm so sorry. Donnie, what did he say? Did he say it's only paper?

Donnie: Yup.

Leo: Did he say it's only paper?

Donnie: Yes, he did.

Leo: Okay! That's what they all say. You think the road to hero town is paved in real crime? No! It's paved with the tears of the poor paper man. And who helps that guy? I'll tell you who; we are who!

Raph, Mikey, and Donnie: Yes!

-When Raph's first plan fails, and he sees how discouraged his brothers get...-

Donnie: Uh, quick question. Did we seriously get schooled by paper thieves?

Raph: I didn't swoop like a boss. I swoop like a noob.

Mikey: Man, this seemed like a really cool idea until we didn't succeed at it.

-...so, Leo gives a "hero" speech, like he does in the movie. Although this motiving speech needs some help, he still tries-

Leo: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Where'd my brothers go? Mikey, where's your. . .legendary optimism? Raph, where's your, ya know, your go-getter attitude? And Donnie, where's your. . . your thing, your - emotionless passion?

Donnie: Here.

Leo: We can still catch these lame old paper crooks and be heroes!

-In continuing this scene, we see the Leo make and execute his own plan, now that Raph's impulsive plan has failed-

Donnie: Yeah, that's gonna be hard. This was the last paper store in town.

Leo: Hmm. . . or was it?

Donnie: Yeah, I. . .I literally just said that.

-Again he takes the lead talking to the foot clan first (could just be that he's a face man here, but nonetheless)-

Leo: Okay twerp. . . and surprisingly big man. It's four against two. So what you say we just call it a day, right?

-Leo uses his observations to guide the team, here when the foot are making their origami soldiers, Leo realizes taking out the paper ninjas isn't a solution-

Leo: We're getting no where fighting these guys. We gotta take out the source.

-After Raph ~properly~ uses his ninpo for the first time, Leo again uses his surroundings to find a solution, in doing so he shows both guiding his team, and astute observations-

Leo: Hm. Mikey, the sprinklers!

-Even at the end of the second episode, they look to Leo for reassurance and support-

Mikey: So. . .does this count as a win?

Leo: Well, I don't know. Let's think about it. Did the bad guys get their big supply of paper? Uh, no. Did they build their army of soilders? No. No they didn't. Are they otherwise Thwarted, and we unscathed?

Raph, Donnie, and Mikey: Yes!

Leo: Hero mission accomplished, my friends!

Alright.

First off, if you've made it this far, thanks for attending my not even close to life changing ted talk. I hope you have enjoyed my rant.

In conclusion,

Leo has the potential to lead, just prefers to do as little work as possible. He almost always passes resonsibility onto someone else, however when he has no other choice but to lead he does it well without realizing it. There are many other subtle examples sprinkled throughout season 1 and 2.

I have more thoughts on this, but this post is already the height of the empire state building.

Class Dismissed.

[skz-smut5]

Drive - Seungmin + Minho

This fic includes: car sex <3, blowjob, hand job... slay

Minho and Seungmin were on their way to the shop while filming their new skz code episodes. They had lost rock paper scissors so were forced into the same car with each other. Well... forced isnt the first word for it. People THINK they were forced to be together, but they were just playing into their "hating each other" role. The silence in the car seemed awkward to anyone watching, but they really enjoyed each others company - no words had to be spoken between them to be comfortable.

They came across some kids and they both found them adorable! Minho was imagining what it would be like to have a mini-him running around while Seungmin was imagining what it would be like to be young again. They waved to the kids who bowed back with respect.

Continuing on with their journey, the silence fell over them again so Minho decided to play some music so that he would stop thinking so much. Because of copyright issues, he could only play Stray Kids songs - but that was okay! He started by playing Domino to make them more hyper in front of the camera. Then silent cry to have a sad moment. But then Seungmin took over and just shuffled the playlist. It wouldn't take long to get to the shop but Seungmin still wanted Minho to focus on driving instead of choosing the next song.

Unexpectedly, Red Lights started playing and Minho started singing along - but in a more.... sexy way (as if that was possible, Chan and Hyunjin hyungs did a great job! - Seungmin thought). Minho took one hand off the wheel to sensually feel down his own torso, slightly but unintentionally body rolling. Seungmin's eyes fixated on Minho's face, however, because while his eyes were focused on the road, his lips were moving and his tongue kept darting out to wet them. Seungmin had no idea why he couldn't look away - he just found Minho so entrancing.

Minho could feel Seungmin's eyes burning through every layer of skin his body had and so he briefly looked at him with a devious smirk on his face. Seungmin's cheeks and ears flushed a pretty red that Minho found simply adorable.

"You're cute." Minho stated truthfully. Seungmin choked on air before responding with a basic,

"What?"

"You heard me, baby, you're cute." Minho looked at him once again but this time instead of a smirk, he had a soft smile gracing his features.

Red Lights finally ended and Seungmin felt as though he could FINALLY breathe without any tension in the air............... until he couldn't. Drive happened to be the next song to play. Sex on top of sex with a handful of sexual tension in the car - joyful. Seungmin already knew he was half hard in his tight jeans - so he looked down to see how noticeable it was. Holy shit.... Seungmin's hands swiftly covered his crotch. Who knew an incredibly sexy man called Lee Minho could make him like this....

Before making it to the shop, Minho looked at Seungmin's hands and pulled over into a seemingly empty road. He turned himself in his seat to face Seungmin fully.

"What are you hiding, hm?"

"N-nothing, what makes you think I'm hiding something?" Good job Seungmin, you only stuttered once. Without noticing, his hands tightened around his crotch as if he was trying to hide it even more.

"Move your hands."

"W-what? N-no! Why do you w-want me to move them..."

"Because I know you're hard, baby." Damn, Seungmin must have made it too obvious.

Drive was still playing while Minho slowly inched closer, his hand reaching out to caress Seungmin's rosy, delicate cheek.

"Can I kiss you?" Minho asked, checking that Seungmin was okay with his actions. Seungmin nodded slowly.

"Words, baby."

"Y-yes, please... kiss me." Seungmin shocked himself by how desperate he sounded. He wasn't thinking of sex.... not much, anyway - he just wanted kisses and to feel loved. Minho smiled and pressed his lips against Seungmin's. It started as a solid press of their lips, but when Seungmin shivered, Minho started moving. Their lips fit together perfectly and their tongues met in the same way - it was as if they were made for each other.

Minho bit Seungmin's bottom lip and dragged it while releasing a deep groan from his throat. When he released his lip, he said in a husky voice,

"You taste so good, I can't get enough." And that is when their lips met again, hungrier than ever before. Seungmin shimmied himself into the back of the car with Minho quickly following. Minho ripped Seungmin's shirt off - which he quickly realised was a mistake... they didn't have any spare, oh well - while Seungmin's veiny hands made quick work of Minho's trousers. Before Minho could even get started on Seungmin's trousers, his head flew back as he felt a burst of pleasure. Seungmin had immediately taken Minho into his mouth, desperate to get a taste.

Minho's hands tangled in Seungmin's hair as he bobbed his head back and fourth, sucking on the tip occasionally. One of Seungmin's hands reached up under Minho's shirt to feel his abs and scratch his nails down each of them; while the other hand was making quick work of his own dick - precum dripping over the seat. Seungmin moaned pornographically which sent vibrations through Minho's entire body, getting him close to the edge in record time.

He didn't want to cum so soon, so Minho pulled Seungmin away from his dick and instead messily kissed him - tasting himself. Minho sat on the seat and pulled Seungmin onto his lap, their dicks knocking together. Minho tried to wrap his hand around both of them at the same time, but he realised that his hands were smaller than he thought. Seungmin noticed and did it instead - his long fingers wrapping around them both perfectly. The windows were fogging up and their breaths were coming out shallower. Seungmin's hips thrusted a couple of times, adding more friction to Minho's dick - sending the older over the edge. The moans and whimpers that Minho made were what triggered Seungmin's own release. His white spurts of cum mixing with Minho's own.

How would they clean this up..

[utilitycaster]

You described C3 as frequently feeling like it's accelerating only to pump the breaks, and that really perfectly articulates some of the mixed feelings I have about this campaign. There have been a couple of times now when I've been really excited and invested in where the story is going (Laudna's death, the party split, Ashton blowing up, now with FCG's death, etc.), and then it's felt like that momentum has been either derailed or softened (either immediately or after an episode or two). It's all moments on the darker end of the emotional spectrum, so I wonder if it's folks wanting to pull back from it, but it feels like it's been a theme in this campaign in a way it wasn't in C1 and C2. Maybe there's something else going on that I'm not thinking of though?

So I think this post about pacing I made earlier this week covers this indirectly. I think it's a mix of the early groundwork for the party developing a culture of checking in with each other, working through conflict, and deciding what to do being constantly interrupted; and the fact that this is a more heavily railroaded campaign. I want to be clear - I don't think the railroading is bad at all! But I think that the prep for a campaign that had a more defined plot, especially starting quite early on, needed to be more extensive. I think it should have probably had a session zero that was a tradition one - not a playtest of two or three characters who knew each other, but the main cast members sitting down and saying "oh, huh, no one here has a high INT score" - or a heavier hand from Matt.

I think, for example, Ashton exploding was great and the choices afterwards were sound, it's just that the party doesn't have the tools to resolve this sort of conflict and so they shy from it. I also think some of the players who tend to embrace difficult choices and conflict that ultimately lead to those darker places and, in my opinion, better story, have chosen to take a back seat; and some of the players in the position to make those bold decisions have declined to make them, which is their right in terms of agency but is less of the story I personally wish to see.

I do want to note that like...they have interrupted the story but they have not yet been proven to have pumped the brakes now; it is possible the cast will pick up seamlessly with the next episode. It's really just that like...as you said, it feels like a pattern.

I suppose the next thing I'm going to say is going to be unpopular, but let's be honest, that has never once stopped me. I think a lot of Campaign 3's more passionate defenders are people who prefer what I'd consider quick, easy, feel-good highs, with a trade-off of a deeper narrative since that requires effort. The people who unironically said "must a story have conflict?" The people who just want weeks on end of downtime after this moon plot (and look this campaign has surprised me many times, and as this question indicates, not all were positive nor narratively satisfying, so I absolutely could be wrong here but I'm just increasingly like...what will they do after this moon plot. Name a significant plot hook that isn't part of the moon plot.) The people who are like "why would the party attack Bor'Dor simply because they tried to kill them? Why would Orym contact the person he clearly has a massive crush on when he's upset when other people are right there? Why would the people of Gelvaan have reservations about mind readers? Why doesn't Ross, the largest friend, simply eat all the other friends?"

But getting back to the original point I really do think that because of the different nature of this campaign - and it is different, structurally, and I don't think that's the root cause - more intense prepwork needed to be done both leading in (character creation) and in the early stages, and I think because it was going to be so tightly plotted later on I think it needed looser plotting earlier to allow the party to mesh and be easier to guide.

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Your work has been bringing me a lot of comfort so thank you first of all 🩷 I've been going through it and your writing has been helping me stay slightly sane which I can't thank you enough for

Could I request one where cassian helps the reader through a really bad depressive episode? Like she isn't coming to training and she brushes it off as being sick at first but after awhile he gets suspicious and goes to check on her when he notices her skipping on meals as well only to find her buried in her covers surrounded by her stuffed animals trying to deal with the depressive episode on her own. Maybe he drags her out of bed and draws her a bath, makes her her favorite meal and cuddles her to help her feel like herself?

Thank you again, you're doing great!!

Not alone.

Cassian x f!Reader.

Masterlist.

Warnings; depression.

Before we begin I want to write a few words about this request. I was in tears when I read your kind words, thank you so much. It means the world to me that in some way I helped you. I've been there too, so I opened this blog and started writing. My fics are a way of escaping the real world, the inner circle has become my family and this blog is a way to live in their world. I want you to know that you are not alone and if this is helping you cope then I will be glad to write as many requests as you want. If you ever want to talk to someone I'm here! I really hope you enjoy this... it might be a little messy because depressive episodes are like that and I wanted to point it out.

Night came… but the sun was out, the darkness around you made it difficult to tell day and night apart. You had been through this multiple times and you dreaded the moment it would happen again. You were right.... this time it was harder, you didn’t want to move but you couldn’t stay into one place for long as you would feel a weight pushing down on you. Breathing became a burden, after two breaths a sigh would escape. There wasn’t an actual reason why you were going through this, it just happened out of nowhere like someone was sucking all the happiness out of you leaving you broken and tired. You were so used to it that with the first sign you blocked the mating bond so Cassian wouldn’t realise what was happening. You didn’t want your mate to see you like this, you knew he would do everything in his power to help you, but you didn’t want to bother him… after all you were used going through this alone. 

The door of your bedroom opened slowly and Cassian walked in, a worried look on his face.

“Hey doll, did you forget about training?” His voice was soft and he took a seat next to you on the bed. You were laying face down, hugging your pillow. Cassian rubbed your back as he waited for you to respond. 

“I don’t feel good, I think I’m catching a cold.” You murmured. 

“Okay... I will get you some tea and then we can go see Madja!” He replied and got up.

“No it’s okay, I’m a bit nauseous so I don’t want to drink anything. You should go to training, the Valkyries need you” 

He stared at your back for a few minutes and then let out a sigh.

“Okay… but pull the bond if you need anything and if you get worse we are going to Madja.” he sighed. 

“Okay” you replied and he left. 

Tears filled your eyes but never escaped, you weren’t holding them back but still they just blurred your vision… maybe your body was so tired that it couldn’t bother to let the tears out. With a sigh you got up and gathered all your stuffed animals and placed them around your bed, creating a small nest and laying in the middle of it. 

Cassian finished his training and headed to the dining room with a smile on his face expecting to see you there having lunch. The smile turned into a frown when he scanned the empty room. He turned around ready to come find you when Rhysand’s voice in his mind stopped him.

Cass I need you in the river house.  Now.

He cursed and headed to the balcony, stretching his wings and shooting up. 

They spent most of the day in Rhysand’s office talking about Keir and his plans, Azriel’s spies had informed him that Keir was acting suspiciously but they didn’t know what was happening. 

Rhysand rubbed his face as they once again fell into a dead end. 

“I will send my shadows” Azriel reassured him.

“We need to find out what he is planning as soon as possible, I won’t risk Nyx getting hurt.” Rhysand sighed. 

Cassian nodded and left the office, he stopped by your favorite bakery and bought some cookies he knew you loved. 

He landed on the balcony of the house of wind and walked inside, grinning as he saw Nyx on the ground playing with some toys. 

“Hey Cass where is y/n?” Feyre asked him and he frowned.

“She is not here?”

“Oh…I don’t know she didn’t come for dinner so I thought she was with you” Feyre furrowed her eyebrows. 

Cassian only nodded and left the room, his long strides taking him to your shared room quickly. He opened the door and his frown deepened at the sight. 

Your small body was curled between your stuff animals, your gaze lost and your breathing uneven.

“Oh baby again?” Was all he said as he approached you. You nodded and he sighed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I didn’t want to bother you” you sniffled and he picked you up. 

“Don’t you even think of that ever again, you could never bother me babygirl” his voice was soft and he left a kiss on your forehead.

He placed you on the edge of the bathtub and lifted his oversized shirt over your head, you stretched your arms and helped him remove it. 

Once you were naked he picked you up and softly placed you into the bathtub, the warm water making you moan. He smirked and hurried off only to return a few minutes later with a tray, you glanced at it and noticed; one plate of your favorite meal, some fresh fruits and your favorite cookies. He steadied the tray on the edge of the bathtub and removed his clothes, slipping in behind you and engulfing you with his strong arms. 

“You need to eat” he whispered in your ear leaving a kiss afterwards. You leaned back against him and closed your eyes an indication that you wanted him to feed you. He chuckled and picked up the fork.

After you were done with your food he picked you up again and carried you to the bed, he helped you in one of his shirts and laid on the bed. The sight was hilarious, Cassian was laying on the bed, his arms wide open waiting for you and your stuffed animals around him, he even picked a few that fell off and placed them on his wings to keep them from falling again. You giggled and crawled into bed, sighing when his strong arms wrapped around you. 

“You forgot this” he whispered and gave you your favourite teddy bear, he had gotten it for you on your first anniversary. 

“Thank you” you mumbled and pressed yourself harder against him. 

“Good night sweetheart” he kissed your head and his hand rubbed soothing circles on your back. 

Maybe you didn’t need to go through this alone this time. 

Requests are open but delayed!

[rosielou94]

Special Someone - Gilly Lopez - Reader

A/N: I think Gilly is such an underrated character and there aren't many fics about him, so here's the start a new series I've got planned.

Warnings: Angst, friends to lovers (kind of), Reader is full of self-doubt, Reader cheated on by ex.

Words: 2,017

Your eyes were red from crying, your mouth numb from the pint of ice cream you’d forced down yourself in an attempt to cheer yourself up, and the episode of Friends where Ross drinks all the margaritas was playing on your TV. Usually, this episode had you laughing out loud, but today you weren’t finding much funny.

The call had come about 2 hours earlier, your ex telling you he was ending things. You felt so stupid, you’d seen this coming from a mile away when he started pulling away, dropping out of dates last minute and being extra secretive with his phone. “Who is she?” you’d asked her, your throat tight with tears you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of shedding. “You don’t know her,” he said, the smile on his face visible in his voice. He was enjoying this, the sick fuck. Everyone had warned you about him, but you were so tired of being alone, you forced yourself to believe he was a good man. He didn't even have the decency to break up with you face to face! You heard the laughter of a woman in the background, the sound of lips against skin. This son of a bitch! You ended the call there and then, not needing to hear what happened next.

You blamed yourself, really. You knew what he was like, but all your friends from high school were getting married and starting families, and you were still renting a tiny apartment owned by an old college roommate’s uncle, approaching your 30’s and painfully aware your biological clock was ticking. Your ex had been handsome, and charismatic, and he’d promised you the world, and you stupidly believed him. Maybe you’d just get a couple of cats, resign yourself to the life of a spinster and take up knitting. This failed relationship was the last in a very long line and you were tired of being taken advantage of.

Just as you were hauling yourself off the sofa for more ice cream, your phone lit up, and Gilly’s name popped up. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you saw the goofy picture of him that you’d set as his profile picture flash across your phone screen. You could do with hearing a friendly voice. “Hey Gilly” you said, you voice hoarse from crying. “What’s up? Has something happened?” Gilly’s concerned tone was evidence of how well this man knew you. Certainly, better than you knew yourself. “Nothin’,” you lied, “I was just napping. How’re you?” “You’re a liar, but sure,” Gilly could read you like a fucking book. “You still coming to the party tonight?” Shit! You’d completely forgotten about the cook-out at the Club House tonight. You’d told Gilly you’d go weeks ago, but now as you sat in your ice-cream stained pyjamas, your face red and puffy from crying, you didn’t feel like partying. “Oh, umm…” you racked your brain, thinking of an excuse to use. “Great!” Gilly didn’t give you time to bail out, sensing you needed this night as much as the MC did. “I’ll pick you up at 7.” The line went dead, and you let out a loud sigh. Guess I’m going to a party.

At 7pm on the dot, Gilly turned up at your apartment. This man was impeccable with his time keeping. You were still running around your apartment with one Doc Marten on, trying desperately to find the other. Your green satin dress already had a stain on from the glass of wine you’d poured yourself while you were getting ready, and God knows where your leather jacket was. Gilly watched you with amusement from the doorway. He’d already spotted your Doc Marten half sticking out from underneath your sofa, and your leather jacket was crumpled underneath the dozen scatter cushions you had stacked on your armchair. Stepping forward, he grabbed the shoe and jacket, pressing them gently into your hands. “Just breathe,” he smiled, taking in your flushed appearance. You thought you looked a mess, but to Gilly, you looked beautiful. Hell, you could be wearing a potato sack and he’d still think you were the most beautiful woman. He could tell from the empty ice-cream pots, and the fact that Friends was playing on the TV that something had happened, and he would bet money that it had to do with that dickhead of a boyfriend. You were too good for that waste of space, and Gilly wanted nothing more than to take the piece of shit far out into the desert where no one would find him. But he cared about you too much to do anything like that. He’d peacefully said his part when you first got together with the sleazebag, but he knew that saying or doing anything more would just push you away. Your shoe on and your jacket slung over your shoulders, you puffed out a breath of air and smiled. “Ready. Sorry for the delay.” “You look amazing. It’s gonna be a good night, ok?” Gilly affectionately kissed the top of your head and handed you a spare bike helmet. “Let’s go.”

As you rode through the streets of Santo Padre, the warm summer air blowing your hair in tendrils behind you, your arms gripped round Gilly’s waist, you couldn’t help but notice the strength of this man. He smelled of cologne, leather and fresh laundry and you relaxed against his broad frame, feeling content. Pulling into the Club House, the party was already in full flow, the smell of BBQ wafting through the warm evening air. Your stomach grumbled, despite the 400 pints of ice-cream you’d consumed that afternoon, and you were already eyeing up the burgers Riz was flipping. Gilly pressed a beer into your hand and held out a chair for you. He sat down next to you, his hulking frame barely fitting in the camping chair. “You wanna talk about it?” He asked quietly, taking a swig of beer. “We broke up,” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. “I knew it was coming.” A choking sob escaped you and quickly took a gulp of your beer, refusing to cry again. “I was an idiot,” you mumbled, picking at a loose thread on your dress. “No.” Gilly shook his head firmly. “The only idiot is that asshole. You’re funny, and smart, and kind, and so beautiful. You were way too good for that guy.” “You think so?” You smiled, looking up at your friend. His eyes were so kind, his smile so broad and genuine. He pulled you in close, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I know so.” Gilly laughed as your stomach let out an all-mighty rumble again. “Come on, let’s grab you some food before you die of starvation.”

A few hours later, Gilly watched you and Letty chatting around the fire pit. You were laughing hard, your cheeks flushed from the heat of the fire and the beers you’d been drinking. You looked so happy, so carefree, and Gilly wished you could always be this way. You had demons; hell, everyone at this fucking party did, but Gilly so badly wanted to take them away. You didn’t deserve any of the shit that had happened to you over the years and seeing you smile was the sweetest thing. “Close your mouth and quit staring. You look like a fucking predator.” Bishop clipped Gilly round the ear, knocking him from his trance. “Nah man-,” Gilly started, embarrassed he’d been caught out. “Just go talk to her,” Bishop said, his arm around the waist of a girl who’d been trying to get Gilly’s attention for most of the night. After numerous failed attempts to seduce him, she’d moved on to Bishop, who’d only been too happy to pick up the pieces. Spurred on by the many drinks he’d had that night, and a good hard shove in the back from Bishop, Gilly headed over to you.

“Hey, you having a good night?” Gilly approached you, his palms sweaty, feeling like a nervous teenager. He aways felt like this around you; giddy, but scared shitless in case he made a fool of himself. “Hey,” you stood up and pulled him into a hug, “thank you for making me come tonight. It’s been really great, and I feel so much better.” Gilly’s heart swelled as you spoke, pulling you in for an even tighter hug. You squealed as he span you around, your feet lifting off the floor in the process. He set you back down, the both of you breathless and laughing. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he said, resisting the urge to move the strand of hair that had that had stuck itself to your lip gloss. “Sure, is everything ok?” You looked at him quizzically as you headed to a quiet spot away from the party. Gilly grabbed you both another beer, cracking the top off one and handing it to you. You stood under one of the street lights, the fluorescent bulb basking your hair and face in an orange hue. Gilly took in your full lips, the way that satin dress hugged your perfect curves and knew he had to say something, to tell you how he felt before the moment had gone. He couldn’t risk losing you again. But he also knew that you needed time to find yourself, to figure out who you were and what you wanted. Gilly would never pressure you into anything you weren’t 100% comfortable with, but he’d spent years loving you from a distance and tonight he needed to tell you. Thank God the shot of tequila he’d done earlier was starting to take effect.

“Listen, I gotta tell you something.” Gilly rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the star filled sky, wondering where to begin. You were looking at him questioningly, but you stayed silent as he searched for the right words. “Gilly,” you laughed nervously when he still didn't speak, “you’re freaking me out.” “When you told me you’d broken up with that dickhead, I was so happy, I can’t put it in to words,” Gilly said, “he was such an asshole, and that fire that you have in your eyes, it was gone when he was around. I was happy that he couldn’t hurt you anymore, that he couldn’t make you feel worthless anymore, but I was happy too because…” he paused, searching for the right words. “I was happy because every moment I spend around you is so incredible, I never want it to end. You’re amazing, you’re so special and you deserve to find someone just as special.” “Gilly,” you whispered, your eyes bright with tears. You gently squeezed his arm and when he spoke next, his voice was thick with emotion. “I care about you, a lot. I’ve spent so many years watching you fight your way through whatever shit is thrown at you. You’re so strong, you’re stronger than you know, and I admire the hell out of you. I think you should take time, get to know yourself again, and heal from what that asshole did to you. But when you feel up to it, I’d love to take you out on a date.” Gilly was breathless, from nerves and adrenaline, trying to get a read on your face. You were usually like an open book, but right now he couldn’t tell what the fuck you were thinking. Your eyes searched his, a single tear running down your cheek. You wiped it away and held your hand against this cheek, his beard scratchy under your soft palm. “I’d like that,” you smiled, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it. Gilly, your gentle giant. He’d been in front of you all along. You were both smiling at each other, neither wanting the moment to end, but not sure what to do next.

Eventually, Gilly slung his arms around your shoulder, leading you back to the party. He took one last look up at the night sky with its millions of shining stars and hoped that one day, maybe, he could be your Special Someone.

[waitmyturtles]

HYPERBOLIC SPOILERS FOR THE PHENOMENAL SECOND EPISODE OF OS2 x BBS x ATOTS

Can I feel so much in just one sitting?! Besides the UTTER giddiness of yesterday’s episode, at least for today, I think I have some actual, sensible, legible analysis to offer. I’m really moved, almost to tears.

I mean, as I blogged just a few minutes ago, part 4/4 of this second episode WILL go down in history in my heart as OBVIOUSLY some of the BEST, most STUNNING content in the HISTORY of anatomical and muscular analysis filmmaking. Yes. 

I’m seeing on Twitter some grumpiness for the comedy of this all (the girlies want more woop woop?! I mean?!), but I seriously think this whole crossover set up and the way it’s been written is brilliant. And I don’t think this is just for fun. 

But first, regarding the comedy and some other one-off points -- I mean, I knew that all four of these guys would be great, but their comedic TIMING, with the writing, is spectacular. They clearly had a FANTASTIC time filming this, and you can see it -- while they didn’t have much time to actually film it, it’s so well done.

I really want to call it, I really want to see it, I wanna see more subverting of the ships, and I wanna see these guys do more with each other separately -- I’m excited to see the implications of OhmEarth and NanonMix next week, and I think that Aof might be making a huge point by separating these guys, pairing them up together with others, and mixing shit up, because that’s what he does (especially while I have He’s Coming to Me on the mind soon on my OGMMTVC watchlist). 

Another one-off point: like I wrote yesterday, we’re getting a double-dose of nostalgia, and I also wrote that I haven’t had to wait NEARLY as long as most of y’all for the return of BBS and ATOTS. But that being said, even though I only watched ATOTS last fall, I actually literally nearly cried when I saw the ATOTS flashbacks and heard the music. Because the way that show was designed in 2021 (I got so much OGMMTVC on my mind) -- those motifs WERE designed to imprint themselves in our memories as remarkable for a kind of cinematic, bildungsroman BL that we weren’t used to seeing back then. That show was nostalgic not JUST for the damn ship, but for Pha Pun Dao, for Chiang Mai, for the Thailand that Aof celebrates vis à vis EarthMix in ATOTS and Moonlight Chicken. 

It’s gorgeous, and he knows what he’s doing by putting PatPran in that mix -- another couple at a different stage of their relationship, with a background and shared struggles that are different than TianPhupha’s, but that still offer both freshness AND nostalgia to the backbone story of ATOTS.

What’s moving me about these first two episodes reflects on what I just wrote -- this is no longer a story about Bad Buddy or ATOTS. This is a story about two couples going through their shit. Pat and Pran have ALWAYS been about going through their shit. We went through a A LOT of SHIT with them, including forward flashes after they graduated and seeing how they were faring in their long-distance relationship. 

Remember: we haven’t spent ANY time with Tian and Phupha in their relationship yet, ABSOLUTELY NONE. They smooched once on the hill, we saw them cuddle, and Oishii sent us off. So we’re JUST finding out, NOW, how they’re faring, and we get thrown in a fight.

A fight that’s similar to the kinds of struggles that Pat and Pran have already shown us and are showing us now. Tian wants Phupha to see a slice of HIS life in Bangkok. Tian wants Phupha to yield a little, to stop being so stubborn. 

Pat wants Pran to open up more. Pat KNOWS why Pran keeps everything so close to the chest. Pat is SO USED to being the balancing effect of their relationship, to push forward, to pull back, but to ALWAYS HOLD PRAN DOWN AND REMAIN AS PRAN’S ROCK, because Pran has not had the same kind of large family structure as Pat could rely on in his childhood and doesn’t know how to take emotional risks. Pat knows this and works hard on balancing it out.

But Pat can go overboard, right, and that’s partly why Pran drove away to Pha Pun Dao -- to prove to himself that he could complete this project on his own, but also, flirtingly, knowing that Pat would ultimately be by his side, and to play the competitive games that these guys always play with each other, because they’re still college dudes with bones to pick. 

What we’re seeing is BOTH COUPLES FINDING THEMSELVES IN THEIR MATURING GROWTH STAGES OF THEIR RELATIONSHIPS. 

Hello, mic check, there’s something happening here in Our Skyy 2. WHAT HAPPENED IN THE ECLIPSE EPISODES?

Same damn thing, the same damn thing that pissed the girlies off before. WE’RE SEEING AWLLLLLL THESE GUYS IN THE GROWTH STAGES OF THEIR RELATIONSHIPS. Akk was frustrated by all the expressions of care that Ayan is overabundant with. Ayan WANTS Akk to RECEIVE the care, because the RECEPTION OF CARE IS the signal, the trigger, the MEANING of the relationship for Ayan -- it tells Ayan, when I care for you, Akk, I AM SHOWING YOU MY LOVE FOR YOU, and that’s how *I* DEMONSTRATE IT.

Tian: Phupha, come with me to Bangkok.

Pran: Pat, let me do this by myself.

Akk: Ayan, I don’t need as much care as you’re giving me, it’s too much.

Phupha: You’re making only about me being madly in love with you.

Pat: I want to help you, my boyfriend.

Ayan: This is how I show my love for you, Akk. 

Y’all. Aof, Golf, these filmmakers. QUEER RELATIONSHIPS ARE RELATIONSHIPS THAT DESERVE THE INVESTMENT AND RESPECT OF EMOTION AND GROWTH IN ART. Not all queer art/BLs need to be about the thrills and frills of the first kiss, of the first sex, of the first whatever. We’re expecting these guys to live together forever in fiction, right? Aof and Golf and the other homies are saying -- kk, girlies, we’ll give you the fan service, alright, but we’re going to show you HOW WE, AS THE QUEER COMMUNITY, DURING PRIDE, GET THERE IN OUR OWN RELATIONSHIPS, TOO, messy details and all. Shit.

Here’s something from reality. I’m the youngest girl of my Indian family -- I was not equal to my older siblings at all, expected to fail, treated as if I didn’t know how to function in society. Y’all can predict what happened. Your gal got a great career, a great family, a husband, the whole thing.

So when I first met my husband, I’m riding my life on my own -- paying my own rent, my own bills, everything. I had already proved I didn’t need my birth family for anything.

But what I didn’t consider during those first years of the relationship was the following: my future husband’s love language was dependence. He was certainly IMPRESSED by dating a woman who had her shit together. BUT. He WANTED me to DEPEND on him, AT LEAST emotionally, if not for other things. I wasn’t going to like, quit my job for a relationship, but -- I was ALSO having REAL trouble DEPENDING on him emotionally.

Like Pran, maybe. I didn’t trust trusting anyone emotionally, because that was a paradigm already created by my family in my upbringing. I had TRAINED myself to NOT need emotional feedback from ANYONE romantically, because I learned to survive in other ways.

Of course, with great communication AND TIME (TIME), I came around and learned to lean on him and trust him.

Aof and Golf are giving their couples the benefits of growth and time to make the relationships better, and stronger, and working, and functioning, and I can’t emphasize enough how REAL THIS IS. 

That’s what these episodes are giving me. I WANT TO SEE MORE BLs with established relationships (@bengiyo, @lurkingshan, @wen-kexing-apologist: WHAT DID YOU EAT YESTERDAY FTW). I want to see contextual heartache. I want to see fights. I want to see tears. I want to see snottiness and shittiness and passive aggression, because all of that is worth examining in human emotional art. 

That’s real, that’s worth reflecting in art, and I see Aof and Golf doing this on purpose to give RESPECT to the emotional structures that they’ve created in their work. 

I’m having so much fucking fun with these episodes, but I should have expected this, I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN, that Aof would already render me an emotional mess as well. It always happens. That it’s happening to our BELOVED COUPLES, AT THE START OF PRIDE, I’m just like. We’re just so blessed to have this art to enjoy.