#this was sent at the same time as the last post

[jetii]

So excited you are taking requests! I love your work ❤! Could I request a S(ish)FW (language and innuendos ok, basically anything except actual smut) with Prompt #56? I was thing fem Jedi!reader and Crosshair having a snarky/flirting conversation post mission? Maybe leads up to implied sexy times, I'll leave that up to you.

This prompt was so Crosshair lol thank you for requesting it!

Grateful

Pairing: Crosshair x Jedi!Reader

Words: 3,132

Tags/Warnings: fluff, canon-typical violence, arguing as a form of flirting, a gratuitous amount of swearing, some making out but nothing too crazy

Prompt: 56. “I-I don’t know if I want to yell at you or fuck you.” / “Surprisingly that is not the first time I’ve heard that.”

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Eyes up, General.” Crosshair's smooth voice sounds in your ear. “You’ve got company.”

You quickly pocket your datapad, taking a look around the forest. You don't see anything, and you look up at the tree where you know Crosshair is perched, the tip of his rifle just barely poking through the leaves. 

"How many?" you ask, keeping your voice low.

"Just one, but it's a big one."

You take another look around the trees. "Where is it? I don't see anything."

"You will."

“That’s not helpful,” you grumble, turning back to your datapad, tapping on the screen to wake it back up. The screen lights up, and you go back to your notes, continuing your read through as you walk through the woods, your eyes flicking up every so often to glance around you.

Nothing.

Your eyes focus back on the datapad. You’re still searching for an elusive herb that is supposedly native to this planet, one which is a rare and valuable medicinal ingredient. It’s not uncommon for Jedi and other medics to search for them, though it was a pain to do so. Making matters more complicated was that this planet was so far removed from the Republic that you were risking getting into trouble just by being here. 

The natives had yet to be contacted by the Republic, so your presence was an unknown to them. You don't even know if they're civilized enough to communicate with you, and if they were, whether or not they'd be hostile to you.

What you do know is that you’d be punished if you were caught on this planet without permission, and the last thing you wanted was to be sent to the AgriCorps. Again.

Crosshair, of course, thinks you're stupid for even thinking about searching for this herb. He had made a point to tell you exactly what he thought as the two of you set off earlier this morning. You’d left Tech and Echo behind to repair the ship’s systems, while the two of you went out to explore, Hunter and Wrecker doing the same in the opposite direction.

Crosshair was less than pleased at the idea, but he'd agreed to go with you anyway, even if his reasoning was more to ensure you wouldn’t get yourself killed.

As much as you hated to admit it, the sniper was probably right. Your chances of actually finding this herb was slim. You'd spent several days searching for it already, and your only reward was sore feet and an empty vial. You didn't even know how the plant was supposed to look, other than the brief description provided to you by a Jedi Master who had been on this planet before and some poor quality photos.

Small, white, fragrant flowers. Leaves long and thin, shaped like a star, growing in groups of five.

You were sure there was plenty of vegetation that matched the description on this planet. Hell, it was a forest, and it seemed like everything was green. The only problem was finding the right one.

You had no idea how long you had until the flower stopped blooming, and the plant lost its medicinal value. If you didn't find it soon, you'd have to leave, and then you'd be forced to return home empty handed, without the rare herb and with no explanation as to why you'd returned without it.

And worse, Crosshair would be proven right.

The thought of that alone was enough to make you want to find the damn thing.

You walk a few steps farther, pausing at a small clearing in the forest. You glance at your datapad again, checking your notes, then scan the ground for any sign of the flower.

"It's not there."

You look up. You don't see Crosshair anywhere.

"Where are you?" you ask.

"Behind you."

You turn and look, and you still can't see him. "Well, if you're going to criticize my choices, the least you could do is get down here and help."

"I am helping. By keeping you alive."

You scowl. "Where the hell are you?"

"You should really watch your language, General."

You roll your eyes. "Come down here and help me," you say.

"Help you with what?"

You jump and turn, letting out a surprised yelp when you see Crosshair standing next to you, the butt of his rifle resting on the ground, one hand resting on it, the other on his hip. His helmet is still on, and you're unable to read his expression. You hadn't heard him approach, and it had startled you, enough so that your hand had gone to the lightsaber at your waist.

"What is wrong with you?" you demand.

He tilts his head. "I didn't realize you were so jumpy.”

"Yeah, well, if you weren't always hiding in trees and making creepy comments, I wouldn't be," you grumble, releasing your hold on your saber one finger at a time.

"If I wasn't always watching your back, you'd be dead," he retorts.

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter. "You're the only reason we're not all dead."

"You're welcome."

You let out a sigh and roll your eyes. You’re sure he’s smirking underneath his helmet, and you're not entirely sure how you feel about it. There's something about him that irritates you, that gets under your skin, but he's also the only one on the squad that seems to pay attention to you. And he does a good job of it, too.

It's strange, really, because he seems to notice things about you that nobody else does. He knows when you're annoyed, or upset, or when you need to eat. He can tell when you're not sleeping well, or when you're tired, or when you're distracted. And when you're focused, like now.

The two of you spend a moment staring at each other, neither of you saying anything. You can practically see the smirk on his face, and you narrow your eyes, not trusting him. He's the most unpredictable member of the squad, and he always seems to catch you off guard. He seems to take great pride in it, too, and you don't appreciate it.

"Whatever," you finally say, turning back to your datapad and looking at it again. The description of the herb and its supposed medicinal value was all well and good, but the picture of the plant was very generic. It looked like pretty much every plant in this damn forest.

"Do you actually have any idea what you're looking for?" he asks, stepping up next to you.

You give him a withering look, and he just stares back at you.

"No," you hiss. He chuckles, a low, warm sound that makes your skin prickle. "You wanna tell me what's so funny?"

"Not really," he says, his helmet turning towards you.

"Asshole," you mutter, turning away from him and scanning the ground. He's still staring at you, and the feeling of his eyes on you makes your skin crawl. "Do you mind?"

"No," he replies, his voice low. His helmet tilts to the side as he watches you, and you can feel your cheeks growing warm. He's close, and it makes you feel uneasy, but you don't back down, and he doesn't move.

“Look, if you don't want to be here, you can leave," you say, turning to him, your voice rising.

He takes a step closer, and you have to fight the urge to back away. You stand your ground, and he leans closer, the black visor of his helmet mere inches from your face.

He scoffs. “And get blamed when you disappear and die on this planet? No thanks."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?"

He shrugs. "Wouldn't matter to me," he says. "But I like to think of myself as a loyal soldier. Wouldn't leave a comrade behind, no matter how idiotic the mission. Or the person.”

You roll your eyes. He's just trying to piss you off, and he's succeeding.

"You're insufferable," you hiss. "Get lost, and stop following me. That's an order."

He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Can't," he says. "I'm stuck with you."

"Why?"

He doesn't answer, just shrugs.

"Then just leave," you mutter, turning and walking away. You hear him follow behind, but you don't bother to look. You know he'll keep pace with you.

You walk in silence for a few minutes, before he speaks.

"What exactly are we looking for, anyway?"

"Are you actually going to help, or are you just gonna complain?"

"Complain, probably."

"Then leave."

"Not until you do."

"Ugh," you groan. "Fine. Look for anything with long, thin leaves, and white flowers."

"What does it do?"

"You don't care."

"Probably not, but I'm asking anyway."

"It's for an antidote," you reply. "For a poison. It's very rare, and expensive, and the only way to obtain it is by harvesting the flower. If we can find one with roots in tact, we can bring it back with us and grow our own. But the only place it's grown is here, and the blooming season is only a few days and then it's over."

"Sounds like a lot of trouble," he comments.

"It's worth it," you argue. "This could save thousands of lives."

"So, what do I look for?" he asks. You give him a look, and he shakes his head. "What? You asked for my help. Tell me what to do."

"Fine," you sigh. "The flower is usually found growing at the base of a tree or shrub, and the roots are long and deep, and it has a unique scent."

"Unique how?"

"I don't know, it's like..." You wrinkle your nose, thinking. "Like... honey and mint, I think? It's hard to explain. I don't really smell it myself, but that's what I was told."

Crosshair stares at you for a moment, his hands flexing. He looks like he's contemplating something, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he just turns away, walking into the woods.

"Cross?"

"Keep your eyes open, and don't die," he calls back.

"Where are you going?"

"To find your precious herb," he replies, waving over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes. "Just don't get lost!"

He doesn't answer, disappearing among the trees.

You continue on your way, stopping every so often to check the ground for any sign of the flower, and then move on. The day passes slowly, and you feel yourself getting more and more frustrated. Your frustration only grows when you see the sun starting to set, the sky slowly darkening.

"Fuck," you grumble, turning and heading back in the direction of the ship. Crosshair had left hours ago, and you hadn't seen or heard from him since. You had no idea where he was, or if he was still alive.

"Cross, you there?" you ask, tapping your comm.

Nothing.

"Crosshair, come in."

Still nothing.

You let out a frustrated huff. He was probably fine, but that didn't stop the worry from creeping up inside of you. It wasn't unusual for him to disappear, but you had expected him to stay close to you, especially after insisting that he stick with you.

"Dammit," you growl, turning back around. You're about to call out for him again, when you hear a twig snap behind you. You go still, your hand instinctively going to your lightsaber, and you spin around, igniting it.

You're not prepared for what greets you.

You're met by a massive, six-legged creature, easily three times your size, and twice as wide. It's covered in thick, shaggy fur, its legs ending in sharp talons. It lets out a growl, its teeth bared, saliva dripping from its mouth.

You're frozen in place, your heart pounding. You can't move, your limbs trembling, and you try to think, to find a way out of this, but you can't.

The creature takes a step towards you, its head lowered, and you can feel the air around you shift as it inhales. It's trying to catch your scent.

You grip the hilt of your lightsaber tightly, willing your hands to stop shaking, trying to keep the blade steady. You’ve fought bigger, more dangerous things than this. You can handle it.

You swallow hard, trying to calm your nerves. You can do this. You're a Jedi.

The creature opens its mouth, a low, rumbling growl echoing in the woods. It's almost on top of you now, and you brace yourself, knowing you have to act, or you'll be dead.

You move forward, swinging your lightsaber towards the creature. It reacts immediately, lunging at you.

A loud shot rings through the forest, and the creature stumbles, its head jerking to the side. Another shot, and another, and the creature falls, the life draining from its body.

You stand there for a moment, your lightsaber humming quietly, the smell of the creature's blood filling the air. You can feel your heart beating wildly, and you know you should be relieved, but you're not. You're angry, and terrified.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You could have gotten yourself killed."

Crosshair is standing next to you, his rifle aimed at the creature, his eyes hidden behind the black visor of his helmet. His hands are steady, his finger resting lightly on the trigger, and you can feel the tension radiating off of him.

Okay, now you're furious.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you demand, glaring at him. "There’s no way the locals didn’t hear that. We're going to be in so much shit."

"That thing was about to kill you, and all you can think about is how much trouble you're going to be in?"

"Yes!"

He lowers his rifle and pulls off his helmet, and you're met with his usual expression of disdain. "You're unbelievable."

"Where the hell were you, anyway?"

"Helping you," he says.

"Bullshit," you hiss. "If you were helping me, we'd have found the damn flower by now."

He holsters his rifle and digs into the pouch on his belt, pulling out a vial and holding it up.

You stare at it for a moment, not believing what you're seeing. It can't be. There's no way.

"Are you kidding me?" you ask, snatching the vial out of his hand and turning it over. Sure enough, inside is a small, white flower, its roots still intact.

"You're welcome."

"This can't be real," you murmur, your eyes widening as you stare at the herb. It's everything you'd hoped for, and more.

"It is," he says.

You turn to him, your mouth hanging open. “I…”

"It's okay," he says, taking the vial back and handing you his helmet. "You can say it."

“I—I don’t know if I want to yell at you or fuck you.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you cover your mouth with your free hand, your face burning.

His eyebrows shoot up, and he tilts his head.

“Surprisingly not the first time I’ve heard that," he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"It just slipped out," you protest. "I didn't--"

"Sure you did," Crosshair cuts in, taking a step towards you. He's close, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, and it makes your knees weak. "I've got that effect on people."

"I hate you," you whisper, unable to look away from him.

"No, you don't," he murmurs, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.

You gasp, but don't pull away, your eyes fluttering closed as his hands rest on your hips, pulling you against him. His lips are soft, his kiss gentle, and you can't help but kiss him back, your arms wrapping around his neck, his helmet dangling from your fingers.

The two of you are pressed together, his warmth surrounding you, and you melt into his embrace. You're not sure how long you stand there, your lips moving against his, your heart pounding in your chest.

You can't seem to think straight, and all you can focus on is him, his touch, his scent, his taste. He takes a step forward, and you gasp as your back hits a tree, his body pinning you there. He takes advantage of the opportunity, his tongue slipping past your lips, exploring your mouth. You moan softly, and he deepens the kiss, his hands gripping your hips tighter.

Your knees are trembling, and you have to wrap your arms around his neck, afraid that you'll fall. He seems to sense this, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you flush against him. His armor is hard, digging into your skin, and you let out a soft whimper, a sound that makes him smirk against your lips.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin. His eyes are dark and hooded, his cheeks flushed, and he's breathing hard. He doesn't speak, just stares at you, his gaze intense.

"Thank you," you finally whisper.

“For the flowers or the kiss?" he asks.

"Both."

He smiles, and it's one of the first genuine smiles you've ever seen from him. He's beautiful, and you can't help but stare at him, his sharp features, his piercing eyes.

"Come on," he says, pulling back and taking your hand. "Let's get back to the ship before the locals figure out we're here. You can show me how grateful you are later."

Your cheeks burn, and you quickly look away, trying to hide the blush that's creeping up your neck. 

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter, rolling your eyes, though you can't help but smile as he takes your hand and tugs you towards the ship. The two of you walk in silence, his fingers laced through yours. He's surprisingly gentle, his touch light, his thumb brushing over your skin.

You're still not entirely sure what to make of him. He's cocky and arrogant, but he's also protective, and attentive. He notices things that others don't, and he does what needs to be done, even when he doesn't want to. And he doesn't let anyone else tell him what to do.

But most of all, he's the one person who's always been there for you. He's the one who's always watched over you, even when you didn't want him to. And even when he's a pain in the ass, you're glad he's there.

You steal a glance at him, and he's looking at you, his expression soft.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," he replies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just wondering how grateful you're going to be."

You flush, looking away, and he chuckles, squeezing your hand.

"Shut up," you mutter, trying, and failing, to hold back a smile. You can’t deny you’re looking forward to it.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART IX

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). fluff. angst. cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and depression. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: here it goes. happy reading <3

masterlist!

January 26, 2023

Los Angeles, California

The ceiling isn’t even interesting, but it’s better than everything else right now. You’ve spent too many nights staring at the same spot above you, trying not to think, trying not to feel, but the thoughts always come creeping back. Anxiety’s a funny thing—how it picks and chooses moments to make your life its playground, especially when there’s nothing left to distract you.

You think about your depression diagnosis from a year ago. It feels like a dirty word, one that sticks to the inside of your throat whenever you try to talk about it.

Shame has a way of making you feel unworthy, like there’s a crack inside you that everyone can see. And Pedro…well, he was part of that too. Not because he’d judge you; no, you know he wouldn’t. That’s what makes it worse. He’d understand, and you know it. But it was that very understanding, that softness, that made you feel even less deserving of him. It was easier to push him away, tell yourself that he was better off without you, without your darkness looming overhead.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid. But knowing didn’t make it any easier. For a long time, you felt like shit. The medication and therapy helped, though. You feel better now, mostly. At least enough to move through the days without the weight of the world pressing down on your chest.

On nights like this, when the city outside your window hums with life, you find yourself longing for him. Wanting him with a kind of ache that doesn’t make sense anymore. Not after a year of silence.

Okay, not complete silence.

There were the text messages, the likes, the little online interactions that served as placeholders for the real thing. But the last time you actually heard his voice was on your birthday. He called, and it was brief. Polite. He sounded tired, maybe distant. You’d called him on his birthday, too, but he didn’t pick up. A few hours later, a text: “Sorry! Really busy over here, even on my birthday. Thanks for the birthday wishes. See you soon.”

Except “See you soon” never came. It was nothing more than etiquette.

Sarah came over a few weeks later. You were sitting on your couch, mindlessly flipping through a book, when she dropped the news. “They broke up,” she’d said, leaning against the counter like it wasn’t a bomb that just exploded in your chest. “Pedro and Julia. Months ago.”

Why didn’t he tell me?

That conversation replayed in your head for days. Maybe he hadn’t told you because you weren’t that person for him anymore. The one he turned to when things went wrong. Life just went on without him in it. The strange became familiar, and here you were, on a Saturday night, staring at nothing.

You push off the sofa, grab your phone from the coffee table, and start scrolling through social media. It’s the only thing that takes the edge off, numbing the ache for a little while. But even that was a trap because almost every post you see is about him.

Pedro was everywhere, and you couldn’t escape him.

The world had caught on to how wonderful he was, and now they all wanted a piece of him. The headlines, the photos, the fan posts—everyone seemed to wonder what it would be like to love him, to touch him. The universe was taunting you with his presence, a constant reminder of what you’d had and what you’d lost. Every time you saw his face, you felt a pang of regret, sharp and unforgiving.

February 4, 2023

New York, NY

The invitation had come a week earlier, but not from him. His sister, Lux, had sent the text. “It would be nice if you came,” she’d written, and your heart had swelled in your chest.

“I’ll try,” you’d replied, though you knew as soon as you sent it that you would go. The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to New York, staring out the window, wondering what you were doing. You hadn’t seen him in person in over a year, and you didn’t even know if he wanted to see you. What if time had passed you by? What if everything between you had faded into the background, nothing more than a memory?

The night of the show arrived, and you were a wreck. A bundle of nerves, second-guessing everything. You sat in the audience, people asking for pictures here and there, and you smiled, happily obliging. But when Pedro took the stage, your heart stopped. He was nervous during the monologue, you could tell, but he quickly settled into the rhythm.

His breathing evened out, and he was so…perfect. He talked about his family, about his mother, and you felt the lump in your throat rise when he got emotional. He was always funny in the sketches, but especially when he almost broke character to laugh. You couldn’t stop watching him.

And you hoped—no, you prayed—that maybe he’d see you through the crowd.

When the show ended, people started to disperse, and there he was, surrounded by his family, by friends, all buzzing with pride and excitement. You hung back, watching as Lux tried to get everyone lined up for a photo. “Who’s gonna take it?” someone asked, and you stepped forward before you could think twice.

“I can do it,” you said, and Lux’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh my god, you came!” She rushed over, wrapping her arms around you, and you hugged her back, feeling a sudden warmth in your chest.

Nico and Pedro’s nephews followed, pulling you into their hugs as well. For a moment, it felt like old times, like maybe things hadn’t changed at all. But then Pedro turned, his gaze catching yours, and time stopped.

You stood there, staring at each other, and the world spun and stilled all at once. His eyes lit up, soft and warm, like they always had. He looked like he wanted to say something, but neither of you moved.

Five seconds. Maybe less. But it felt like forever.

You smiled, and so did he, a quiet acknowledgment passing between you. Lux handed you her phone, and you took the picture, watching them all gather together, laughing and chatting. You could feel Pedro’s eyes on you the whole time.

After the photo, he walked over, his eyes locking onto yours again.

“How…what are you…?”

“Your sister invited me,” you replied quickly.

“Of course she did,” he said, glancing back at Lux with a smile.

“Congratulations, you were incredible,” you said, the words tumbling out faster than you intended. “I’m so happy for you.”

He looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, like you were the moon and the stars. Your heart raced, and you could feel it thumping against your ribs. He smiled, a half-smile, and his voice softened. “Thank you. I think I butchered a couple of lines, but…"

“No, no,” you insisted, shaking your head. “You were perfect. It was perfect.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, his eyes doing that thing they always did when he was holding something back. But then he cleared his throat, looking flustered. “I have to go get changed and say goodbye to a few people, but come to the afterparty, okay? Oscar and Sarah will be there.”

As if you needed a reason other than him.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, trying to sound casual.

He took a step closer, his big brown eyes fixed on you. “Thank you for being here.”

You smiled, trying to keep your composure. “Always.”

And then he turned and disappeared backstage.

•••

Later, at the afterparty, you felt like a ghost, drifting between conversations. You caught up with Oscar and Sarah, the comfort of their hugs bringing unexpected tears to your eyes. It felt good, to be surrounded by people who loved you unconditionally. But you couldn’t help yourself; you kept looking for Pedro. From across the room, your eyes would meet, and the significance of everything unsaid hung between you.

Twenty minutes passed like that. Stolen glances, quiet tension. Until you saw him slip outside to the rooftop, away from the crowd.

Without thinking, you followed him.

He stood there, looking out over the city, his broad back to you, the skyline of New York glowing in the distance. For a moment, you thought about turning around, about going back inside. But then you stepped forward, standing beside him.

“This city,” you started, “is so beautiful from up here. Makes you forget about all the bad things—like the rats and the traffic.”

He laughed—that booming, wheezing kind of laugh you loved so much—and you smiled.

Pedro smiled at you—that same familiar smile that hadn’t changed in all these years. His eyebrows lifted playfully, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. But as you looked closer, you saw it—he had changed, and yet the essence of him remained.

His hair was longer now, curling just at the ends in a way that made you want to reach out and touch it. His beard, fuller than before, had streaks of gray decorating his jawline and his hair. The lines around his eyes had deepened, like stories waiting to be told, crinkling when he smiled, as if life had both weathered and softened him.

He turned to look at you. “Hi again.”

“Hi."

“You look good,” he said, the compliment slipping from his lips with ease.

You chuckled softly. “Thanks, so do you, Mr. Popular.”

He clicked his tongue, amused. “What can I say?”

The rooftop was hushed, only the chatter and music from the party drifting up from where you stood. The world below a distant hum, leaving just the two of you bathed in the soft glow of green and gold light from the city. The air was cool but not cold, wrapping around you both in a way that felt intimate, protective.

How Deep Is Your Love started playing, and you looked towards the party, a small smile playing on your lips. As if he could read your mind, he chuckled and said, "How fitting. What are the odds?"

For the first time in what felt like forever, you were under Pedro’s gaze—not the chaotic, feverish attention you were used to, with cameras flashing and crowds screaming your name, but something deeper. His attention had always been different. It was quiet, but focused, like a steady hand on your shoulder, grounding you without a word.

For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. The pull between you too strong, a tether stretched thin by years of disconnect but never broken. You felt it—the weight of all that had gone unsaid pressing against your chest. You had to say it. Now, before you lost the courage.

“I was debating whether or not to do this here,” you began, your voice low but steady, “today of all days, but I feel like the right time will never come for us, so I’ll just say it.”

Pedro’s eyes searched yours with anticipation, perhaps fear or hope, watching you with that unwavering focus that made your heart race.

In that moment, you realized, you didn't know where to start.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat. “I disappeared like that, and I know I hurt you. I was... I was dealing with so much, and I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t move. Some days were harder than others, and I felt so ashamed. So lost. So sad.”

The word sad hung between you, fragile yet heavy. You could see it in his face—how your words cut him deeply. His lips parted, and you saw the pain flicker in his eyes, the understanding that only he could offer.

“Baby,” he said, the word tender, rich with affection. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming yet calming all at once. His hand moved to your hair, fingers brushing it aside before resting gently on the side of your head. The touch was so familiar, so comforting, you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of it wash over you.

“No,” Pedro said softly, his voice breaking just a little. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not doing more. For not being there when you needed me. I’m a fucking coward.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. “I pushed you away because I thought… I thought you were happy with her.” Your voice cracked, but you pushed through the pain. “And before that, I pushed you away because I thought you just didn't want me. I figured it was better to let you be.”

He let out a breath, stepping even closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I got with her because I couldn’t escape you,” he confessed, the words raw and full of regret. “You were always there, in my head, in my heart. I thought if I could be with someone else, maybe… maybe I’d forget you, but I couldn’t.”

You felt the tears sting at the back of your eyes. The truth of it, the weight of his words, felt like a key turning in a lock that had long been rusted shut. You wanted to say more, to tell him everything, but before you could, Pedro’s hand slipped to your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

“I was afraid that you'd be the only person I ever actually wanted. And now I'm afraid that my one and only chance at happiness has passed me by.” He whispered, his voice low and intense. “And I…I think about kissing you more than I think about anything else, literally in the world. It’s my go-to thought when my mind has a minute to spare.”

You could barely breathe. The air between you felt charged, electrified by everything he was admitting, by the love you had both buried for so long. “I was so scared,” he continued, his eyes glistening. “So scared of fucking up our friendship, scared of what people might say, and scared of losing you because… I’ve never known what to do with pain, mi amor. All I’ve ever done is hide from it. But I don’t want to do that anymore.”

You reached up, covering his hand with yours.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if your touch was too much, too overwhelming. Then, slowly, he opened them again, his gaze locking onto yours with such intensity it made your heart ache. “I was such an idiot,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I thought I could live without you, but the truth is, I’ve never been able to. Not for a single day.”

You smiled, your own tears finally spilling over. “Well, that makes two of us.”

"You're my favorite person to talk to," he said, "even when we're fighting."

There was a beat, a single breath in which the world seemed to pause, and then he kissed you. It wasn’t a tentative kiss, shy, or unsure—it was everything. Every moment, every longing look, every stolen glance over the years poured into this one, perfect moment. His lips were soft but demanding, his hands slipping into your hair as he pulled you closer. You knew people could be watching from afar, but you melted into him, because nothing else mattered right now.

When you finally pulled back, foreheads pressed together, both of you gasping for air like you'd been drowning and only just found the surface. His forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky, and in that moment, you saw it all—the vulnerability, the fear, the anger, and beneath it all, the raw, unrelenting love.

Pedro’s voice was thick with emotion as he spoke, “I hate myself for waiting this long.” His hands slid down to your shoulders, gripping them with a desperation that made your heart twist. “I watched you disappear, and I told myself it wasn’t my place. But it was. It always was.”

His eyes bore into yours, deep pools of brown that always saw you, even when you didn’t want to be seen. His hands turned and pushed you slowly to the railing, and you could feel the cold biting into your back even through the thick layers of your jacket.

“I hated myself too,” you admitted, the words spilling out in a rush, messy and imperfect, but true. “I thought about you every day. And I hated myself for it because I couldn’t let go. I tried, God. I tried with everything I had to move on, but it was always you. It was always you, Pedro.”

His lips trembled, and you saw the tears in his eyes—the same tears that were stinging yours. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“We wasted so much time.”

You nodded, your own heart breaking at the realization. All the years you had spent avoiding each other, convincing yourselves it was for the best, when deep down, you knew the truth.

You had been running—both of you—from something that had always been there.

“I know,” you said softly, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing against the scruff on his jaw. “But we’re here now. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. “I love you,” he said, the words a soft confession.

You smiled, face wet with tears, your heart finally free of the burden it had carried for so long.

“I know."

a/n: aaaahh finally!!! these idiots got it right it only took like 20 years lol.

an extra final chapter is coming very soon. i had so much fun writing this. i started writing this silly little fic right after a breakup because i was feeling lonely and it was the best way for me to not feel like that sooo i wanted to thank everyone who read, liked, reblogged or commented, it means the world to me that someone else enjoys something that takes so much of my time. love you all so much!!!

[aeyumicore]

Last remarks regarding @/izuwus.

edit 9/22: her new blog is @/clitfilms with an alias of 'naya'. be wary interacting with her.

Hi friends. I have not spoken publicly about the situation with my harasser/impersonator/Izuwus since Aug 28. I only responded to one account under that same post, as they were non stop deleting their blog when I would block them so they could remake to comment more. The blog name was 21303, clearly a burner, and the comments are still under my post though they are unviewable as their blog was deleted. (original post here)

I received an update from the Tumblr Abuse staff today at 4:40 PM PST in response to a report I made regarding the above user 21303. I will attach a video of the email (to prove that it is not edited). You'll even see the emails from the sites someone (probably Izuwus tbh) signed me up for in this post: link.

VIDEO of the email Tumblr sent me: link.

Izuwus did NOT delete her own blog, despite what she made it seem like. Tumblr removed it for violating their Terms of Service and User Guidelines.

In the email I reported the blog '21303' but I did mention I believe this person to be Izuwus. I did not report Izuwus. Yet Tumblr took it upon themselves to remove Izuwus' blog.

Tumblr is known to reach out to blogs that are under investigation to let them know their account is being reviewed.

You can believe what you will, but this email from Tumblr confirms that Izuwus was in fact the person harassing me.

Side note, when someone deletes their own blog their asks will show "BlogName-deactivatedDateDeactivated" such as on the left. Yet izuwus' still shows as normal, like on the right, which is what it looks like when Tumblr removes your blog.

I am closing this awful chapter of my time on Tumblr for good, barring any other suspicious behavior that may happen.

I am so sorry you guys had to witness this. I appreciate you all. Please stay safe!

[sgiandubh]

Dear Plagiarism Anon

You wrote and I immediately blocked you (this #silly game must end at some point, don't you think?):

You sound suspiciously the same as the three other Anons sent to me over this last week and I think I know who the fuck you are, darling.

You also know very well that, at this point in time, there are no more neutrals in this fandom. Playing Switzerland in Gaza only suits tone-deaf R2D2 Marple and her hypocrite minions - it has never been my cup of tea. And let common sense be the judge of my supposed irrelevance, when I see you pouncing on my inbox like the deranged troll you are, each and every time I am posting something.

I hope you do have a family, too: mine is a wonderful bunch of people I have not seen in almost six years. I intend to compensate this shameful situation before I will have to leave them again for a while. I also think it is absolutely clear I am not working for you and as such, not bound to write every single day or disclose any content in my possession.

I have never plagiarized anyone, in my entire life. I was, in turn, plagiarized myself, by a couple of you guys across the street. Imitation being the best form of (questionable) flattery, it amused me at first, until it didn't. Is this your latest theory on me? Pity is probably the best word to describe my reaction.

Grammar and vocabulary policing responds to your mean allegations about shippers being stupid and unable to read, write or speak proper English. I have explained that hundreds of times. You can do better, too, and prove what the fuck you said. But you won't, because this is not how this idiotic game works, is it?

[daughter-of-sapph0]

what do you gain from sending cruel anons? satisfaction? approval from others? does someone pay you to do it? I never understood why you freaks do that bullshit. it's useless anyway.

I'm not publishing your anonymous ask. no one deserves to look at that slop.

it doesn't even hurt me. nothing you say to me can be worse than the pain I've already felt. your words mean nothing to me. you can tell me to kill myself all you want. you'll never be louder than the voice in my head who almost convinced me to do it.

I've already reached my lowest point in my life. I've gotten better. I love myself too much to let you take that away from me.

you, on the other hand, are sitting alone in your room and copypasting the same generic message to random trans people you see online, because your life has literally no value, because you will never do anything of note, because you're unworthy of any sort of affection from others, and you will die alone, unhappy, unfulfilled, unaccomplished, and your last dying wish as you sit on your death bed surrounded by no one is that you could have spent more time being a cruel heartless bigoted irredeemable cunt to people online.

meanwhile I'll be living my best life. I'll forget about your entire existence later this afternoon. I'll continue to spend time with the people I love, and help spread positivity to people who need it. I will outlast you. I'll live my life to the fullest while you rot in your isolation. I will outlive you. my legacy will continue after I'm gone while people will try and pretend that your ilk never existed. I will outlove you. I will be a reminder that your negativity and hatred is but a momentary stain on existence that will be washed away by unconditional love and support.

I'm no longer speaking to that anonymous asker. instead I address this to my followers, as well as anyone else who may see this post: do not answer anon hate ever. it's not worth it. those people do not care about your response, and only receive gratification from seeing you suffer.

I know a lot of you weren't online in ye olden days. but back then, we had rules for the internet. and one of them is to never feed the trolls. feeding the trolls mean they win. somewhere along the line some of them managed to convince people that blocking the trolls means they win. that's not true. blocking means you win because you'll never have to see their disgusting horrendous comments again. the block button is your best friend. use it.

if you get anon hate, delete it. block the sender (which I'm pretty sure now ip blocks whoever sent the ask), and if it continues, turn of anons, or even turn off asks in general. do not let them hurt you. do not engage. do not respond. do not answer them. they aren't looking for a debate. and you won't change their mind. answering their ask just exposes their slop to all your followers. and none of them want to see that shit.

remember that for every hateful anon message you get, there are 100 people who love you unconditionally and care about you. do not let the loud hateful minority win.

maybe what I'm doing counts as feeding the troll. I'm not directly answering their ask, but I'm still getting involved. but fuck it. I'm turning their hate into positivity. I'm using this as a moment to spread awareness to others.

if you're a person on the internet who's received hateful messages, especially if you're trans, I promise you that you're not alone. ignore them. find people who care about you and love you. I promise that the small annoying obnoxious voice does not represent the opinions of society as a whole. I promise that nothing they say is true. I promise that you are loved. unconditionally. forever. simply because you are you.

[deancasbigbang]

Title: If You Build It

Author: Peggy Carter

Artist: Aggiedoll

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Dean x Cas Sam/Jess Mary/John Liesel (OC) / Gabriel Bobby/Ellen Dean x Bella Cas x Meg

Length: 22000

Warnings: implied and referenced alcoholism by John Winchester

Tags: Highschool AU, Neurodivergent characters, Friendship, Rekindling, School Project

Posting Date: October 30, 2024

Summary: Dean Winchester is a senior in high school who gets paired with Castiel Petrov to complete a senior project. In order to graduate the two must work together to create a presentation showcasing both of their skills. The two of them were friends throughout grade school but have since drifted apart leading to awkwardness. Now that they are forced to be in contact again, will they be able to finish their project in time to walk the stage?

Excerpt: Going over to Dean Winchester’s house? The idea was preposterous. But here he was telling his dungeons and dragon campaign that he wouldn’t be able to make it to the meeting. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to the Winchester residence, heck he didn’t even know if they lived in the same house. He remembered Mary would always have some kind of snack for the boys when they would come in after a hard day's bike riding. John would ask what trouble they had gotten into and while he warned not to go to certain places, Cas could tell he was eager for the boys to explore the world on their own. As far as the younger two Winchesters, Cas didn’t remember much. Sam was always studying, even over the summer trying to get ahead. And Liesel would hide in her room to play with their moms makeup. Some of those adventures were times that Cas would never forget.  He sent a quick text to his mom letting her know where he would be that evening. His leg bounced as he tried to pay attention in his calculus class. He looked at the clock. Two more hours and he would be in that black Impala.  “Mr. Petrov can you tell us what x would equal in this equation?” Mr. Morgan asked.  “Um, it would be six I believe.” Cas replied smoothly.  “Very nice,” Mr. Morgan said. 

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[jackoshadows]

I have come across some posts/comments saying that Jon Snow will stay as Jon Snow and will never become Jon Stark. Here's the thing though - Jon Snow IS already Jon Stark! He just doesn't know it yet.

As GRRM states:

Q: I have a question, since Robb actually  legitimized Jon and named him his heir for Winterfell and the North  before the Red Wedding (granted no one knows about this and is still  alive or free, the Greatjon knows as does Edmure, but I dont see them  getting out of the Twins any time soon and Catelyn would probably die  before telling anyone) does this make Jon’s rejection of Stannis’ offer  moot? A: Edmure and the Greatjon are prisoners, true… but you are forgetting  the envoys that Robb sent to Howland Reed… Galbart Glover, Maege  Mormont, Jason Mallister… they are all alive and free. As to what is and is not moot… the key point is, only a king can legitimize a bastard……

"Precedent," she said bitterly. "Yes, Aegon the Fourth legitimized all his bastards on his deathbed. And how much pain, grief, war, and murder grew from that? I know you trust Jon. But can you trust his sons? Or their sons? The Blackfyre pretenders troubled the Targaryens for five generations, until Barristan the Bold slew the last of them on the Stepstones. If you make Jon legitimate, there is no way to turn him bastard again. Should he wed and breed, any sons you may have by Jeyne will never be safe." - Catelyn, ASoS

Robb stood, and as quick as that, her fate was settled. He picked up a sheet of parchment. "One more matter. Lord Balon has left chaos in his wake, we hope. I would not do the same. Yet I have no son as yet, my brothers Bran and Rickon are dead, and my sister is wed to a Lannister. I've thought long and hard about who might follow me. I command you now as my true and loyal lords to fix your seals to this document as witnesses to my decision." A king indeed, Catelyn thought, defeated. She could only hope that the trap he'd planned for Moat Cailin worked as well as the one in which he'd just caught her. - Catelyn, ASoS

So it is done. King in the North Robb Stark has already legitimized Jon Snow as Jon Stark. Edmure Tully, GreatJon Umber, Maege Mormont, Galbart Glover and Jason Mallister all now know that Jon Snow is Jon Stark.

They just have not managed to either get word to him (Edmure and the GreatJon being prisoners) or for reasons unknown - most probably because of the Boltons squatting in Winterfell with Northmen as Lannister hostages and Stannis engaged in a campaign in the North - have just not informed Jon about this.

This right here is strong foreshadowing for Jon Stark as King in the North through Robb's Will:

Stannis read from the letter. "Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is STARK. A girl of ten, you say, and she presumes to scold her lawful king." - Jon I, ADwD

At this point it's clearly implied that Lyanna Mormont has heard from her mother. Maege Mormont - who is witness to Robb's last will and decree which names Jon Stark as KITN - is last seen heading to the Neck with her daughters.

Catelyn wondered if Lady Maege had reached the Neck as yet. She had taken her other daughters with her, but as one of Robb’s battle companions Dacey had chosen to remain by his side. - Catelyn, ACoK

In ADwD, Alysane mentions that two of her sisters are with their mother. Which makes it clear that she has heard from Maege.

"Sisters," Alysane Mormont replied, gruff as ever. "Five, we were. All girls. Lyanna is back on Bear Island. Lyra and Jory are with our mother. Dacey was murdered." "The Red Wedding." - The King's Prize, ADwD

Which then implies that Lyanna Mormont has heard from her mother and her declaration is for Jon Stark.

Now of course they could be talking about Rickon Stark, if Maege and Galbart Glover managed to communicate with Robett Glover and Manderly has let them know that Rickon is still alive. However, keeping in mind that Galbart Glover was also witness to King Robb's last decree which legitimizes Jon Snow as Jon Stark, it's very possible this is about Jon Stark as well.

The next paragraph just hits us over the head with foreshadowing that more or less confirms that this is about Jon Stark.

Maege Mormont had ridden south with Robb, Jon knew. Her eldest daughter had joined the Young Wolf's host as well. Even if both of them had died, however, Lady Maege had other daughters, some with children of their own. Had they gone with Robb as well? Surely Lady Maege would have left at least one of the older girls behind as castellan. He did not understand why Lyanna should be writing Stannis, and could not help but wonder if the girl's answer might have been different if the letter had been sealed with a direwolf instead of a crowned stag, and signed by Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell. It is too late for such misgivings. You made your choice. - Jon I, ADwD

Yes Jon, the answer would have been different because Lyanna straight out just declared for YOU! He just doesn't know it yet.

Jon took a knee. The king frowned at him, and rattled the parchment angrily. Rise. Tell me, who is Lyanna Mormont? One of Lady Maeges daughters, Sire. The youngest. She was named for my lord fathers sister.

The fact that it's LYANNA Mormont making this declaration - which GRRM reminds us of in the same discussion when Jon tells Stannis that she is named after his father's sister - just sweetens the whole deal!

[thechaoticarchivist]

Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice | Levi Ackerman X Reader

→ Crossposted on A03 ←

Word Count: 2,250

Pairing: Levi Ackerman X gn!Reader

Content Warnings: None - Just fluff; no Y/N used, 'they' pronouns for reader, modern AU

Summary: Levi Ackerman could never understand the obsession with pumpkin spice, but it did always seem to make you happy, so he tolerated it.

Author’s Note: I really have to give thanks to @amywritesthings, because this whole story idea appeared because of some silly comments due to this post over who would hate pumpkin spice season the most.

It always seemed that when school supplies started flooding the stores, there became a weird, immediate need for people to have autumn everything, and that tended to irritate a specific tea shop owner to no end. 

Starting as early as August most years, Levi found himself cutting off questions about cinnamon and pumpkin flavored drinks with a curt ‘no’. He tolerated the question better from new customers, but it was the regulars asking that really set his teeth on edge. 

Specifically - there was a bespeckled brunette scientist that made an appearance every afternoon with their partner for a Masala Chai Black tea before the two of them headed off to their graveyard shift doing who knows what. The scientist would order their usual drink, and then immediately follow up by asking obnoxiously when the new fall flavors were dropping, like they hadn’t been coming to the tea shop for years. 

They then always cackled wildly at Levi’s annoyed expression, and their partner usually left a larger tip in apology.  

For the life of him, he could not figure out the obsession behind this time of year. It wasn’t that the drinks were bad (although they were arguably not his favorite), but it was the fact that when the summer seemed to wane, this particular flavor arrived and locked everyone in a chokehold, suffocating and tainting all flavors of drink, food, and candle with it’s scent until peppermint seemed sweep in to do the same in the winter. 

At least Levi could tolerate the smell of peppermint.

August and September slipped away one quiet day at a time. As the weather turned chilly and the leaves switched into their reds and golds, the questions of ‘pumpkin spice’ and ‘cinnamon’ only increased, and so did the black-haired manager’s daily headache. 

He couldn’t exactly deny the slight increase of profits they saw between now and Valentine’s Day (the third of the weird drink obsessions he dealt with every year, chocolate flavors closely following pumpkin spice and peppermint),  but he didn’t see the joy in the season or the smell as others did. It was just another time of year. One that darkened the skies earlier and made people move a little quicker when they were out and about. 

Truthfully, the start of the ‘Bers’ (as you called it, always laughing at your own pun,) usually sent Levi more into solitude than it did any other time of the year. He spent the holidays with his mother and uncle, of course, but it was also a reminder to him that just another year had passed and what truly had he to show for it?

He had to admit that it had grown on him recently, though. Ever since you had made room for yourself in some of the space in his grumpy heart around this time last year. 

“Kirstein, go flip the sign, will you?”

The two-tone haired barista nodded with a yawn, making his way to the front, one hand scratching his hair. The younger man let out a groan at the sight of the line already outside. He clicked his tongue, a habit he had picked up from the owner. “Do you think they’re all here for that new pie flavor already?”

“It’s not going to be available until Monday, so they can wait.” 

“Maybe we should tell your partner to cool it on the posts on Instagram for a bit?” Jean’s blood turned cold with the look coming from the gray eyes behind the counter. He mumbled a quick apology. 

“They’re work on our social media has significantly helped retain our customer base. They know what they are doing.”

“Yeah, but maybe they could tone it down with the fall..?” Another glare sent the barista blushing, and he turned to fiddle with the door lock and the sign as he was asked. 

The crowd of morning commuters slipped quickly into the cafe and out of the chilled morning air, filling up the space with body heat and quiet conversation. Two lines formed, led by regulars who had been coming here often enough that Levi had their teas already brewing as the doors opened. He found himself strangely thankful for them, as they always seemed to tame the initial chaos of opening. 

A tall, blonde history teacher who consistently ordered a matcha before he headed off to a room full of rambunctious teenagers for the day. A lively redhead that was a secretary for some larger corporation and always seemed to already have too much energy before she received her Gyokuro green tea. A tired looking doctor who preferred the typical English breakfast black tea to start his day before his long shift.

But once those few consistencies in the shop’s morning routine passed through and back out into the crisp air to their next location, the headache began. 

Because it didn't matter that the advertisement you made said “NEW APPLE CINNAMON PIE - SEPT 23!”, or that you had decorated the chalkboard menu behind the counter in a similar fashion  with “SEPTEMBER 23” written under it, people kept asking. 

You had chastised Levi and Jean both before, that their response of ‘Can’t you read?’ was not an appropriate answer to the question, and instead to politely just remind them which day it would be coming, but it always seemed to become harder and come out a little harsher from both men as the day wore on. 

Levi’s patience would always run thin by early afternoon when the 50th ‘Will you be having any pumpkin spice drinks soon?’ was asked, especially when, in his opinion, there were much better choices on the menu.

This particular Friday, you had told him that you were getting off early from your own job and would be down to decorate the shop in the afternoon for the launch of the fall flavors coming on Monday. When you had asked him if he had any seasonal decorations, he had pointed you in the direction of the supply closet, but you had become sourly displeased at the little amount that he had in there. 

Levi almost rolled his eyes when you appeared with a large box in tow, one that Jean was happy to take from your arms and place on a table. He then immediately went to make your favorite drink, receiving an eye roll from a shopkeeper who was absolutely in no way jealous of the younger man’s attempts to befriend you. None at all. 

You went into your normal routine once you were inside, stepping behind the counter to give Levi a quick peck on the cheek and a  “Hi, ‘Vi,”, as that was the most amount of affection he allowed while working, and thanking Jean for the steaming travel cup of Roobios Chai.

You then started your rounds, greeting the evening regulars (a young boy and girl who always came to study for a few hours after school, an older bald man that always seemed on edge about the latest news of the city, and a quiet dark haired lad who always had a book, but eyes that seemed to never leave the barista)  and checking in on their personal lives - Levi had no idea how you were able to remember such things, but people always seemed happy that you did. 

Once finished with checking in with those you knew and introducing yourself to those who you didn’t, you finished up your drink, tossed the cup, and went to the back to pull out a ladder from the storage closet.  Next, you began the process of unpacking the box of decorations you had lugged all the way down here, smiling happily at each thing you pulled out and set on the table. Garland leaves, table centerpieces, and cute knick knacks for the counter. It was impressive you were able to fit as much as you did inside. 

You spread things throughout the store, a rough map of where you wanted everything, and the customers happily moving around to give you space. They chatted with you about their excitement of things, always willing to lend a hand if needed. 

By the end of the night, garland outlined the ceiling, the door, and the register counter, and a cluster of orange, green, and white pumpkins and tea candles sat in the middle of a cream covered doily on each table. 

You were just finishing putting up little scarecrows and a couple of stuffed ravens in watchful places as Jean flipped the sign to close and Levi worked on closing out the till. 

The three of you worked together to give the place its normal nightly scrub as the quiet jazz that was always playing in the background filled the space around you. It was an easy routine - one that had been trained deeply into the two of you. Jean seemed to go out of his way to help you, though, and Levi wasn’t annoyed by it at all. Whatsoever. 

As Jean threw you an easy smile as you chatted, Levi let out a huff that you caught instantly, and you raised an eyebrow in his direction. 

“Everything alright, Levi?”

“Fine. Just finish up so we can go home.” 

You hummed in agreement, tying up the trash bags that Jean was all too happy to take to the dumpster for you. Once he was out of earshot, you looked over at your boyfriend. “He’s just being nice.” 

There was a click of the tongue as a response, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “None of you other employees get you so riled up.” 

“None of my other employees openly flirt with you,” he deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes, walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You planted a gentle kiss under his ear and lowered your voice. “You’re the only one for me, ‘Vi. I’m not going anywhere.” 

He stopped counting bills, raising one hand to give one of your arms a light squeeze, his way of acknowledging your statement. 

When Jean came back in, you made sure to hang on to Levi just a little longer, making it clear where your loyalties lie, and you could feel Levi’s shoulders relax just slightly underneath your arms. 

Once everything had been locked up, all cups and machinery cleaned for the next day, the three of you headed to the front door.

"Don’t forget, I’m stealing Levi for the day tomorrow, so you’ll be opening on your own with Eld,” you reminded Jean as the door shut behind you. Levi pulled out his keys to lock up, Jean nodding. 

“Are the two of you going anywhere fun?” 

“No,” huffed Levi, only to be covered up by your enthusiastic, “Yes!”

“Hange and Moblit invited a group of us to the Pumpkin Farm and Festival over in Trost,” you explained with excitement. “And it’s been ages since we’ve seen everyone, so it’ll be a nice day.” 

Jean smiled in response, only to swallow the words on his tongue as he caught sight of the shorter man’s face. Levi was holding another set of keys out to him, with a large green and white fuzzy ball hanging from it. “Do not lose my spare key.” 

Jean tensed up, barking out “Yes, sir,” a little too loudly as he took the key and put it in his own coat pocket. He knew better than to ask about the keychain - it most likely was something you had put on there.

You reached out, and touched the young man’s arm and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you’ll do fine tomorrow, Jean, but do call if something happens.” 

A nervous smile was given to you in return. “I’m sure we won’t need to call and bother the two of you at all. We have it handled!” 

There was a snort from Levi, and you subtly elbowed him. 

“It’s a nice evening for a walk, don’t you -”

“Go home, Kirstein.” Levi cut Jean off, putting an arm around your waist and steering you away.  You leaned into the touch, a grin creeping across your face from the jealousy you rarely saw from Levi. Briefly, you turned to wave a goodbye at Jean, and then leaned back into your boyfriend’s embrace. 

“Do you think he forgot we lived together?” you asked with a giggle. 

“Forgot a lot of things if he was that brazen…” Levi trailed off with a huff. 

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you said with a smile, but that only got you a glare in return.

The majority of your walk was in comfortable silence as you made your way down the maze of roads to the apartment the two have shared for a few months now. You walked up the stairs together, Levi digging out his keys once more to unlock the door to your quaint home. 

Once the lock clicked, his hand froze on the knob, causing your eyebrows to furrow in concern. He let out a long sigh. 

“You didn’t just decorate the shop, did you?” It was less of a question and more of a statement. 

You couldn’t help but grin as you kissed his cheek and pushed the door open wide. The two of you were immediately hit with a wave of cinnamon. “You know me so well.” 

No, Levi couldn’t say that he understood this obsession with this time of the year at all, but it made you happy, and for that, he would tolerate you and your pumpkin spice.

Created by @thechaoticarchivist September 2024. Do not repost - reblogs and comments always welcome!

[eirenical]

For the WIP game, laugh??

Well, you just gave me an excuse to post a very belated...

WiP Wednesday

...so, thank you, @thehumantrampoline! ;D

[If anyone else wants to send words for the WiP game, please do! And if you want to try specifying a fandom, you can do so. If it's a fandom I've been in, odds are I have a WiP for it. XD]

Set about 6-12 months after Li Lianhua visits Tianji Hall to impart a little Yangzhouman-healing to Fang Duobing...

[Earlier snippets of this fic in no particular order.]

Li Lianhua put the latest of Xiaobao's letters into the box with the rest and tucked it away.  Most of his letters were much the same: effusive thanks, admonishments to take care of himself, threats against Wuyan's imaginary thieving impulses, offers of hospitality… and now this.

Li Lianhua lifted the box that had come with this latest letter.  He'd ignored Xiaobao's offer of gifts and assistance, because such things hadn't been necessary.  They had their garden, they had his doctoring skills, and Lao Di had numerous accounts that no one in Jinyuanmeng was even aware of, much less would notice if they were utilized.  They didn't want for anything… at least not anything money could buy.

It seemed, however, that Xiaobao was determined to send gifts, regardless of their need or lack thereof.  Li Lianhua slowly opened the box, then sucked in a breath.

The hairpin was delicate silver in the shape of a branch, with little fans of needle-like leaves sprouting from the forked end.  It was delicately made, but had a comforting heft to it, sturdy enough to take some rough handling.  It wasn't the quite the lotus theme he had been thus far drawn to in the hair ornaments he'd worn in this new life, but it was close kin.  Li Lianhua rans his fingers over it, a smile twitching onto his lips in spite of himself.

It was beautiful.

It also wasn't an entirely appropriate gift for a child to give an adult.  The craftsmanship was masterful, the detailing exquisite; it must have cost a small fortune.  And if Li Lianhua wished to spend that kind of money on his hair ornaments, then he would have done.  He didn't need a child picking out his accessories.

…then again, the money was already spent.  So what was the harm?

Later on, as he was making dinner, gentle fingers ran themselves along the new hairpin, where it was threaded through his hair, before drifting down his neck in a gentle caress.  Li Lianhua shivered as those hands were replaced by lips and a hint of teeth.  Just as Li Lianhua was about to put down his knife and forget about dinner for a while, those hands and those lips disappeared, replaced by a low grumble of a voice.

"The hairpin is new."

A pause.

"Fang Duobing?"

Li Lianhua returned to chopping up the vegetables for dinner.  "How did you know?"

"He might have mentioned it one or two letters ago.  Sent a drawing.  Asked if I thought you'd like it."

Li Lianhua snorted out a brief laugh.  "Did he, now.  And you neglected to warn me about this, why?"

Those hands returned, this time wrapping around his middle, A-Fei's body pressed all along his back.  There was still enough of a chill in the air from the last vestiges of winter that Li Lianhua appreciated the heat that came with the cuddling, but it was going to be far more difficult to cook with A-Fei hanging off of him like an octopus.  "That isn't an answer, Lao Di."

A-Fei buried his smile into the crook of Li Lianhua's neck, along with a few scattered kisses.  When he eventually lifted his head, Li Lianhua's own head was spinning just a little, and he'd almost forgotten his own question by the time Lao Di answered it.

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

Li Lianhua took a moment to regather his widely scattered thoughts before responding.  "…why?"

Lao Di stepped back, taking all that lovely warmth with him, as he slowly slid the hair ornament out of his own hair and began to strip off his outer layers.  Li Lianhua found himself shivering again… and not altogether from the cold.  By the time A-Fei had reached the bed and stretched out on it, he was completely, gloriously nude.  He crooked a finger in Li Lianhua's direction, and for just a moment, Li Lianhua had no idea how he was supposed to respond to all of that on display in his bed.

Then A-Fei smiled.  "Don't you want the rest of your present?"

…maybe he could get used to surprises.

[jeanystillbeany]

BillFord Fic

I haven’t gotten invited to ao3 yet so I’ll just post it here anyway. It doesn’t have a name so I’ll just post a teaser or whatever. Idfk. It’s a billford fic ig. As soon as I get ao3 I’ll post it on there. I do have more written. I’m just taking the first part for a test drive. Let me know ur thoughts! (Literally anything- name suggestions scene suggestions, if i should post it on ao3, explanations etc.)

Entry 167: Series 6

  Out of all the curiosities I’ve studied in my travels, this has to be one of the most shocking enigmas yet.  This timeline had the bottom story of the shack left with two gaping holes at the top.  In fact, it’s as though the shack grew legs and walked away.  Which is completely bizarre- even for a weirdness magnet such as Gravity Falls, Oregon.  The countless timelines I’ve visited so far were nowhere near this level of insanity.  This level of… intrigument.  The state of the timeline has this enrapturing effect on me.  

  Recently the timelines I’ve been traveling through have had a different variable.  Two in fact.  As it turns out, me and my brother have a great-grandniece and nephew.  Dipper and Mabel.  While I’ve been careful to not interact with any timelines I’ve found myself caught up in (especially after that incident with the Time Police), I still somehow find myself growing attached to the two.  For the past few months I’ve been observing them through the different timelines I’ve traveled to.  There has also been the reoccurring pattern of their other ‘Gruncle’ re-emerging from the same portal I find myself appearing from every few days.  I’ve been waiting… counting down the days til it’s my turn.  And yet, I still don’t understand why I continue to keep that false hope in my pocket.  The multiverse is infinite.  The chances of me ever finding my home universe is nearly pointless.  While I could always take the place of another Stanford… The Time Police would be on my case in a second.  I also understand that the multiverse I was sent to wasn’t the same one as the other Stanfords.  While I’m dealing with infinites of my brother, they were dealing with beasts beyond basic human comprehension… and yet I’d much rather that than to be cursed knowing I’d never get home.  To see Dipper and Mabel fail… over and over… with myself unable to assist… sometimes I thought it was driving me mad.  

  I’ve certainly spent more time reciting the last few entries than I should’ve.  So I shall continue with the present.  The shambles of my lab have made for an adequate shelter.  (Save for the 2 overgrown hairless mole rats I’ve needed to fight off for my rations).  The sky appears to be a blood red, many of the familiar surrounding trees were reduced to brambles, probably by some larger species I’d like to take the time to investigate at a later hour.  This area has been intensely modified compared to the other Gravity Falls I’ve been in.  I have a hunch this is due to the large vortex that ripped through the dimension.  (That was in fact sarcasm my dear reader).  So far I’ve studied and dissected one of those overgrown Eye-Bats that can turn a person to stone just by looking at them.  From memory; I will promise they were much smaller and could not turn one to stone in my own timeline.  Why would anyone feel the need to weirdify these anomalies?  Some sort of apocalypse has settled over this world.  Whether or not it was always like this is unknown.  I’m leaning towards the latter though.  I shortly ran out of things to do after examining my last two specimens and I itched for more information on these preternatural creatures. 

Ford sat in what was left of his desk chair and kicked his feet up.  He would kill for a mug of coffee right now.  

Ford ran a hand through his hair.  Since the portal incident, he’s grown it out. He’s grateful he didn’t cut it when he could.  It more than likely would’ve exaggerated the up and coming gray hair.  Though… he shouldn’t exactly care how he looks because he’s not supposed to be seen in other timelines according to the Time Police.  In the end, he still does get a fond satisfaction of knowing he’s at least well kept.  And mistakes happen.  He continues to have the same clothing pattern of turtle necks- though he only ever wears them underneath his long coat.  It proved to be very useful when traveling timelines.  The amount of pockets he had to keep so many samples in almost seemed like cheating.  He also always had his bag with him.  Most of his pockets aren’t big enough for his journal, and he’s filled up a couple while he was traveling timelines.  His love of pockets also extended to his lower half making sure to have maximum pockets on his cargo pants.  He even bothered with a hidden one in his shoe for an emergency lock pick.  If that wasn’t enough, his obsession with Sci-Fi led to him wanting to live it to its full extent, so naturally he put knives in both heels of his boots as well.  

  Normally he’d care that there were some contaminated combat boots being rubbed all over his desk.  But now?  He thought he might as well embrace the end of the world.  He loved his family to death, but if any of them saw him in a timeline other than his origin the whole universe would collapse in on itself, and they would be the ones dead.  Ford could always scramble back to his portal and go to the next timeline.  According to the Time Police that is.   Though there have been many instances where he has intervened in his earlier days with no consequence.  

  The man mindlessly fiddled with his gun on the inside pocket of his coat.  He wanted to study more.  Maybe the giant gash in the sky was the root of his greatest mystery!  He unhooked his heels from the edge of his desk and swung them around towards the bunker hatch.  He pushed himself off from the armrests of the chair.  Stanford climbed up the ladder and popped his head out of the bunker.  He supposed the first step would be to find a lookout point.  If he was lucky he might be able to stay in one place long enough to do a quick sketch of this timeline’s situation.  The first place Stanford’s mind drifted was his abandoned UFO- though it was identified and no longer flying, so he dubbed it the alien spacecraftt.  It gave a perfect view of the entire town and was rather close to his current position.  Ford gave a once over of everything in his satchel.  He plucked out his journal in order to sift through the small bit of food, water and any other trinkets he had before neatly replacing it and went on his way.  

  As Ford traveled he kept a hand on his gun.  Aside from the terrors the scientist was getting antsy to encounter, he was the only other sound he heard.  His boots trudged along the ground -making distinct squishing sounds- as though he were walking in his own wet socks.  The ground beneath him was unnaturally wet causing the uncomfortable feeling.  There was the occasional shuffle as he adjusted his jacket to the odd temperatures.  Ford made a mental note to journal about the seemingly miniature air masses that drastically changed the temperatures in as little as every few feet he walked.  The long coat was currently adjusted to be draped over his shoulders, as Ford found this to be a happy medium and made a constant grip on his gun easier.  

  A rumble struck the ground just as Ford’s own foot hit the earth.  The man felt a jitter course through him, crawling up his spine.  

  “Another weirdness wave!”  The man exclaimed with much more enthusiasm than anyone else trapped in this hell bubble ever would.  He licked the first two of his fingers and raised them up in the air, turning them at different angles until he found the direction that gave his moistened fingers the most chill.  After finding the wind direction he quickly hid behind a tree and scrambled through his bag.  His six-fingered hand reemerged with a sort of hand made device.  It was made from old lab parts created during his first few days in this timeline.  It allowed him to calculate the intensity of the weirdness wave and further study its properties.  He carefully placed the machine away from the cover of the tree and braced himself for things to get weird.  

  The wave passed over Stanford relatively easily and he observed no mutations to himself.  Stanford went to pick up his wave reader when- 

  “Oh.  How peculiar… Shit.”  The man’s handmade invention had grown to compete with the surrounding forest’s pine trees.  For a moment the Author thought that he would be unable to run.  For a moment the Author believed he was frozen in time.  For a moment he saw himself as a child.  For a moment he saw his brother.  For a moment he saw the twins.  

  Stanford found the right gears that made the joints in his legs move.  This was no longer his invention.  It had grown six legs of its own.  The calculator screen that was once used as a makeshift reader display was its mouth and the antenna was its tongue.  Ford was tempted to take a picture, though he doubted such would be worth his life.  He raced through the forest.  It was almost as if its size grew due to this oddity apocalypse.  The scientist didn’t have a chance.  Every time he heaved himself over a log, the creature could bash itself right through it after him.  He needed to think of something… he’d kill to meet his niece and nephew.  

  The Author took out his loaded gun as he ran through the brambles.  He took a sharp turn, causing the monster to slide in an effort to regain its balance.  Ford began to aim as the creature was tipped onto its side.  It landed with a loud thump, causing multiple mutated birds to fly away startled.  Stanford lowered his gun and stood stunned in front of his creation, as its legs flailed about, damaging the surrounding shrubbery.  

  “Intriguing!”  Ford quickly snapped a picture.  As much as he’d like to inspect the helpless thing more, he deemed it safer to continue with his original task.  He would’ve stayed longer if one of the monster’s legs didn’t reach out and claw at his coat, tearing it down its side.  A bit closer and the scientist would’ve been seriously injured.   He jumped back and continued with his task of sketching this new timeline.  He also made a mental note to log his encounter in the journal when he was in the clear.  

~

  He finally made it to the spacecraft.  Ford would definitely consider using this as a hideout in this world.  Contrary to Ford’s belief, the state of this timeline was only in Gravity Falls.  He remembers studying the Natural Law of Weirdness Magnetism as a younger man, but he never believed it could affect anything to this extent.  Ford sat down atop the spacecraft.  He snapped a picture of the surrounding scene.  

Entry 167 B. Series 6

  There seemed to be a large barrier encasing Gravity Falls.  More than likely the Natural Law of Weirdness Magnetism.  I’ve studied the topic before and have come up with a simple equation to break it.  The scene before me is both exhilarating and dread ensuing.  To even think about the situations my brother and the kids have gone through haunts me.  I want nothing more than to be able to talk with them.  Even if it’s not my universe.  I want to hear their stories and watch them grow up… I wish for my own universe.  I’ve traveled the timelines for much too long.  I’ve watched them.  But I want to see them.  To meet my Mabel, my Dipper, my Stanley.  I want to meet my family.  But where would I even start?  The time police?

  I looked off to the sunless horizon and noticed a large pink orb sitting dead center of the train tracks with Mabel’s zodiac on it.  My breathing sputtered.  Just what were these kids into this timeline?  I decided it’d be best to head back to the lab.  I’d like to be there when the portal reopens.  

   Maybe… maybe I can try one more time.  My sentence is already high enough as it is with the Time Police… I want to help my niece and nephew… no matter what universe they’re in.  There has to be a reason the Time Police aren’t on my tail by now… especially after that monster was created.  I’ll spend the night at the lab again and work on relocating to the spacecraft tomorrow.  Then I’ll find my brother.  

  Ford replaced his bookmark into his journal and brushed himself off.  He stood up on the roof of the dead spaceship and gave one last glance at the world he found himself in before beginning the few hour trek to where the Mystery Shack once stood.  Stanford was nearly to his hideout. About where he left the wave reading monster.  There was one problem that had unnerved the Author for more than one reason.  A question that bubbled out of his mouth as soon as he seen the large clearing in the trees where the monster had been discarded.  

  “Where is it?” His question was shortly answered as a screech was heard not too far behind him.  

  “Fuck!  Are you Serious?!”  The scientist grumbled and quickened his pace.  It was following him.  Either it had extremely sensitive hearing or it was tracking him by scent.  Whatever the case was, his hands itched to jot it down in his journal.  He didn’t have much time for that as he found himself being chased by the beast once again.  Ford continued to race to the lab and attempted to slide into the underground space.  The mechanical creature’s claw lurched out and nicked his back, sending him flying forward and creating another large hole in the roof.  He landed ungraciously on the floor of his lab with a groan.  As a last resort Ford turned over on his back and began shooting wildly through the crack.  The mechanical anomaly screeched as it was shot at, retreating immediately.  Ford felt the back of his coat begin to soak and his vision blur.  The tips of his finger began to numb as his arm fell to the ground. 

   With one last screech, a fourth hole was punctured into the top of the lab, right over the portal, leaving Ford’s escape in shambles.  He would’ve screamed, or yelped with his hand held out dramatically as any Author such as himself would, but that was the last sight seen before he passed out completely.  

~

  “Do you think it’s dead?”  

  “I say we eat it”

  “Dudes.  Is it just me?  Or does it kinda look like Mr. Pines.” 

  “Soos.  It has SIX FINGERS!  SIX!  It had to be some sort of clone… or- or… imposter.”  Pages began to flip in the background of the following commotion.  Quiet muttering was also heard following each turn of paper- though it was mostly blocked out by the pounding in Ford’s head.  

  “Mr. Pines… do you… know anything about this?”  Ford was becoming conscious enough to pick out voices.  This seemed to be the only female among the group.  

  “Stanford…?” This was a new voice.  Much older than the others.  It wavered as it said his name- effectively snapping him out of the painful slumber he was in.  

  Ford started with a groan and his eyes squinted shut, adjusting to the abnormal light- even for the living world.  In this universe that is.  

  “Dudes.  It’s waking up.”  Ford mumbled and rubbed his head.  Thankfully the wound on his back didn’t go that deep into his back.  Though the semi-dried blood latching the fabric of his coat to himself was very uncomfortable.  

  “Sixer!”  Stanford opened his eyes just in time to see the back of a tacky red hat by the side of his head.  Arms enveloped his shoulders partially helping Ford keep himself up.  

  “Stanley…”  The scientist just barely breathed out.  

  “STANLEY?!”  Ford couldn’t be bothered to look up from his brother’s shoulder at the other’s exclaimation

  “Is anyone else confused right now?  Cause I’m confused.” Soos commented.  Stanley sighed before releasing his disoriented brother.  

  “Kids, Soos, I want you to meet… the author of the journals.”  Stan was hesitant to let go of his brother, as though if he let go of his brother’s shoulder he’d disappear back into the fabrics of existence.  Dipper did an excited squeal and almost ran up to properly greet his practical obsession, but Wendy put a calm hand on his shoulder to stop him from ruining the two brothers' moment.  She decided she needed more context with her boss’ secret twin before Dipper butted in.  

  “Stanley.  I need- I need to tell you something.”  Stanford’s voice wavered with guilt.  As multiple scenarios ran through his head.  More than likely this wasn’t his universe.  He doesn’t know what happened to his own timeline, or this one… though it’s not like he can continue traveling timelines with the portal busted.  Ford opened his mouth to speak- but no sound came out as a thought surfaced to his head.  

  ‘…what if this is my timeline?  What if the portal busted for a reason?  Maybe… I can stay a while.  They need my help…’

  “Yeah?”  Stanley asked- a small smile almost suppressed on his face.  

  “…I missed you.” Ford sighed out.  He pulled Stan back into him.  The other man slapped his back playfully with a goofy grin.  Ford winced and let out a small yelp.  

  “Oh… forgot about that.  Welp.  I smiled too little in the past 3 weeks to smile this much now.  Let’s get back to the shack.”  As if on queue, an ominous roar shook the ground under them. 

  “Agreed.” Wendy said.  

  “Yup, yup, yup, let’s go!”  Soos hauled Dipper over his shoulder and sprinted out of the Lab and everyone else followed.  Ford found himself lingering for a moment- his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the remains of his portal.  It’s gone.  It’s all gone.  

  “Hey, bro.  Let’s get out of here, ‘k?”  Stanley put his hand on Ford’s shoulder, offering a hopefully comforting smile.  

  “We have a lot to talk about Stanley…” Similar to any other earth tremble, the earth shook following the signs of a beast approaching.  

  “Yeah, yeah.  Can we do that later?”  Stanley tugged his brother along by the back of his coat leading him out of the lab.  Stanford followed behind- occasionally wincing from the pulling on his jacket.  

[itsevanffs]

And oh, being a fanfiction writer doesn't make anyone untouchable or special, if they post in public place, using OUR favorite characters OF COURSE we're going to critique them. do you go and tell to someone who says 'i didn't actually love that book/movie/ANYTHING' 'how can you!!! but they put effort in it- DUMB. ASS. Don't hide behind the 'they might be offended' argument, we all know the only reason y'all pressed is bc you don't like anyone that's not on the same opinion with u.

Wait. So... is this like, a 'I/my friend said something shitty as 'critique' about an author's work who didn't ask for it and Evan and/or his friends said 'hey don't do that, you're being a bit shitty' and now I'm mad about that so I'm going to yell at them instead of doing introspection' type thing?

Because, trust me, you can have all the opinions you want. But when you say 'that movie sucked' to your friend after you exit the cinema, the screen writer doesn't get it blasted in their face in bright red letters. Your complaints don't magically reach the ears of the director, the actors, the camera crew, the CGI guys. Fanfiction ain't like that. You comment 'your prose is childish, you really should have done something better with that' or 'there are so many typos lol learn to spell' and it gets sent, unless these authors have comment emails/comments themselves turned off, straight into their email.

Even if you are my friend, unwarranted criticism will get you a warranted escort to the nearest exit until you shut up. People do this shit for fun, not for profit. They put it out there, for free, because they feel proud of what they have created and want to share it. AO3 is NOT a review or proofreading site - it is a godforsaken archive. Social media, tumblr is not a review or proofreading site. Posting does not mean 'I consent to be absolutely shredded by (well-meaning) nitpickers'.

If you wear your favourite shirt in public, that act does not invite people to go up and tell you it doesn't match your hair or your eye colour.

You wanna critique? Fine. Go sign up as a beta/alpha reader on a proofreading site or forum, and out your spirit there. Look for fics that have 'critiques welcome!' in the author's notes.

But cut the consumerist bullshit you've got going on here, because it doesn't suit fandom at all. This isn't about you; it's about the hearts of people braver than you who put their souls into the world and do not want to be beaten down by unwarranted comments. Consent is a simple concept, and it is absolutely baffling to me that people like you still believe not saying no means yes.

[starry-bi-sky]

more clone^2 memes because i think they're funny

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts 0.2 Birth by Sleep - A Fragmentary Passage - Main Road

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Poorly Drawn Cats 2: The Squeakwail

(Part 1)

[noahschnappinfs]

For season 5 I hope they give us an interview with Winona and Noah alone like the one Jenna and Winona had recently, I love them but I'm also a little *sad that Winona and Noah haven't had interviews together :(

just look at them, we need more of this during the season 5 press tour. we’ve been robbed for so long.

i totally agree with you, i’d love to see some interviews with noah and winona. there’s a lot of wasted potential with the fact that they haven’t been paired together for press yet. noah adores her and looks up to her so much, it’d be amazing to get some sort of long format interview with them talking about their dynamic playing mother and son. i hope that is covered in the alleged documentary that they seem to be filming alongside the show. that’s one of the downsides of having such a big cast, there’s so many pairings but i hope we get one with them as mother and son.

we also need at least one interview with winona and noah where she gives out movie recs and her explanations of why we should watch that specific movie/show, it would be so cool. noah seems to love her recs and i also would like to get some. winona seems to be such an interesting person with a lot of great things to teach.

[the-meme-monarch]

commissions for @creepa-b0t-inc ! in order they’re Honeur Able, Gilmore, Sweetie, Antoinette, and Kass :]