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carpe-mamilia · 7 months

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Ghosts’ Larry Rickard Explains Why They Chose the Captain’s First Name

Photo: Monumental,Guido Mandozzi

It couldn’t be a joke. That was one rule laid down by the Ghosts creators when it came to choosing a first name for Willbond’s character. Until series five, the WWII ghost had been known only as The Captain – a mystery seized upon by fans of the show.

“It was the question we got asked more than anything. His name,” actor and writer Larry Rickard tells Den of Geek. “Once we got to series three, you could see that we were deliberately cutting away and deliberately avoiding it. We were fuelling the fire because we knew at some point we’d tell them.”

In “Carpe Diem”, the episode written by Rickard and Ben Willbond that finally reveals The Captain’s death story, they did tell us. After years of guessing, clue-spotting and debate, Ghosts revealed that The Captain’s first name is James. At the same time, we also learned that James’ colleague Lieutenant Havers’ first name was Anthony.

The ordinariness of those two names, says Rickard, is the point.

“The only thing we were really clear about is that we didn’t want one of those names that only exists in tellyland. It shouldn’t be ‘Cormoran’ or ‘Endeavour’. They should just be some men’s names and they’re important to them. The point was that they were everyday.”

Choosing first names for The Captain and Havers was a long process not unlike naming a baby, Rickard agrees. “It almost comes down to looking at the faces of the characters and saying, what’s right?”

“We talked for ages. For a long time I kept thinking ‘Duncan and James’, and then I was like ah no! That would have turned it into a gag and been awful!” Inescapably in the minds of a certain generation, Duncan James is a member of noughties boyband Blue. “Maybe with Anthony I was thinking of Anthony Costa!” Rickard says in mock horror, referencing another member of the band.

Lieutenant Havers wasn’t just The Captain’s second in command while stationed at Button House; he was also the man James loved. Because homosexuality was criminalised in England during James’ lifetime, he was forced to hide his feelings for Anthony from society, and to some extent even from himself.

In “Carpe Diem”, the ghosts (mistakenly) prepare for the last day of their afterlives, prompting The Captain to finally tell his story. Though not explicit about his sexual identity, the others understand and accept what he tells them – and led by Lady Button, all agree that he’s a brave man.

Getting the balance right of what The Captain does and doesn’t say was key to the episode. “It wasn’t just a personal choice of his to go ‘I’m going to remain in the closet’,” explains Rickard. “There wasn’t an option there to explore the things that either of them felt. That couldn’t be done back then – there are so many stories which have come out since the War about the dangers of doing that.

“We wanted to tell his personal story but also try to ensure that there was a level at which you understood why they couldn’t be open, that even in this moment where he’s finally telling the other ghosts his story, he never comes out and says it overtly because that would be too much for him as a character from that time.

“He says enough for them to know, and enough for him to feel unburdened but it’s in the fact that they’re using their first names which militarily they would never have done, and in the literal passing of the baton”.

The baton is a bonus reveal when fans learned that The Captain’s military stick wasn’t a memento of his career, but of Havers. As James suffers a fatal heart attack during a VE day celebration at Button House, Anthony rushes to his side and the stick passes from one to the other as they share a moment of tragic understanding.

“From really early on, we had the idea that anything you’re holding [when you die] stays with you. So it wasn’t just your clothes you were wearing, we had the stuff with Thomas’ letter reappearing in his pocket and so on. And the assumption being that it was something The Captain couldn’t put down, it felt so nice to be able to say it was something he didn’t want to put down.”

Rickard lists “Carpe Diem”, co-written with Ben Willbond, among his series five highlights. He’s pleased with the end result, praises Willbond’s performance, and loved being on set to see Button House dressed for the 1940s. He’s particularly pleased that a checklist of moments they wanted to land with the audience all managed to be included. “Normally something’s fallen by the wayside just because of the way TV’s made, it’s always imperfect or it’s slightly rushed, but it feels like it’s all there.”

Rickard and Willbond also knew by this point in the show’s lifetime, that they could trust Ghosts fans to pick up on small details. “Nothing is missed,” he says. “Early on, you’re always thinking, is that going to get across? But once we got to series five, there are little tiny things within corners of shots and you know that’s going to be spotted. Particularly in that very short exchange between Havers and the Captain. We worried less about the minutiae of it because you go, that’s going to be rewound and rewatched, nothing will be missed.”

The team were also grateful they’d resisted the temptation to tell The Captain’s story sooner. “We’d talked about it every series since series two, whether or not now was the time, but because he’s such a hard and starchy character in a lot of ways you needed the time to understand his softer side I think before you had that final honest beat from him.”

“What a ridiculously normal name to have so much weight put on it for five years,” laughs Rickard fondly. “Good old James.”

From Den of Geek

#bbc ghosts #bless you larry for doing all these den of geek interviews #I wonder if they just did one marathon session with him #inside ghosts was kind of disappointing this week #I guess Ben just wants to let the episode speak for itself and you're like yes but I would like to hear you talk about every detail #trust me we will be interested #long post #I really thought they loved the joke of nearly saying the Captain’s name so much that they'd never reveal it #so it's so lovely that they were like no this is not a joke name; he's a real man with an ordinary name #and we are going to tell you that in the most devastatingly romantic way #I am eating my words and they are delicious with that spread on top #also 'that's going to be rewound and rewatched' = 'I know you people are loopy so here is content specifically for you'#bbc ghosts spoilers

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amalthiaph · 24 days

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I took an interest in The Bad Batch around the tailend of S2. It's not news to Tumblr that I almost slept on this show. And I cannot thank Caleb Dume enough for being the reason why I pressed the play button for this one. While I haven't been around for most of its active run, and I wish I had been, the last year has been among the best months of my life.

This show challenged my morals, and taught me lessons that I will forever take with me.

Tech taught me to embrace and take pride in who I am. I now think that I am not something that needs to be cured. I needed to be understood and accepted. He taught me that we deserved to be loved and be allowed to live the way we want to (as long as we are not causing harm to ourselves or to others).

Hunter taught me that at the end of the day, we're all still humans. We make mistakes. We fail. But we can learn from them, and we can strive to be better. And I should also take care of my hair bec I cannot accept that a man in a galactic war have better hair than me (Okay, did you honestly think I'm gonna be serious this entire essay?)

Crosshair taught me that at the end of the day, we really are still humans. Sometimes, we make choices that not everyone will understand or agree to. Sometimes, we don't even understand our own choices. But we can learn from them, and we can strive to be better. And that I should also go to therapy bec istg my hand shakes like hell I always need to rely on a pen stabilizer when doing my artworks.

Wrecker taught me that in this world where we can be anything, always choose to be kind. He is a great man who would always be there for everyone, and I hope that one day, I can be that person too. He is afraid of heights, but he climbs and go on high places anyway. Like him, I should also start conquering my fears. Dear Wrecker, I did try conquering my fear of heights last March 9 but I can't. I will try again.

Echo taught me to always fight for the greater good. Almost two years ago, me and a group of people campaigned for a great tomorrow. With pink flags and pink balloons, we worked on our little thing I like to call our rebellion. Sadly, we lost. At times, I am thinking of just giving up bec that's democracy and I cannot go against the people's decision, but characters like Echo and the rest of Rogue One taught me that nothing should ever stop me for fighting for the people's rights and that my love for my fellow citizens should always come first before hatred.

And lastly, Omega taught me to be curious, or more likely to not be ashamed for being curious. Learn about the world. Learn about lots of things. We never know when we need it. While I could say be good at strategy and win 30 grand on card games, nahhh, I'm not that smart.

I also learned to reevalutate myself as an artist. This show taught me integrity. I had ranted about this lately but these characters challenged me in terms of art. I knew that the creators aren't best at proper representation. While I could draw them as they are in the show, I choose to stand for what is right, and represent them as properly as my skills could. In the more technical side, I became good at drawing armors. And this little Actors AU Draw Series taught me to be responsible; I tried my very best to create and post them on time. This increased my productivity.

But enough about me.

There's something I realized two nights ago; we, the fandom, are Bad Batchers ourselves. We can consider ourselves a family, but not one of us is the same and we're all interesting, and capable in our own unique ways. We can have our own opinion and stand about something and still coexist. Like our favorite charactera, we embrace and celebrate our differences.

This show may end. No more Bad Batch Eves, no more cryptic tweets that cause us to hyperventilate, no more Bad Batch Wednesdays but it will live on, through us.

I know there will be a day where we decrease in number, one by one, little by little, but still, the show will live on through our actions, our opinions, our choices we make after May 1, 2024 because I know that all of us were changed in some ways by these characters and this show.

To the crew, your cryptic tweets caused me sleepless nights, but thank you so, so much. It is through your hardwork that we had this wonderful show. Thank you for making every second of the past year so worthwhile and enjoyable for me and for everyone.

However this show will end, whether happy or sad, I am glad it happened. However short my time was with them, I am happy I had been here. However short my time with everyone in the fandom was or if some of you leave one day, still, thank you so much for being part of my life; I am so happy I met all of you.

To Clone Force 99, thank you. I've never loved anything like this before. May the Force be with you.

#the bad batch #tbb s3 #tbb #star wars #amalthia cried while writing this

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crueisummer · 11 months

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𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝓒𝓛16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: Kika and Pierre invite you to their engagement party where you meet her and Pierre’s friends from F1, specifically, a certain handsome Monegasque driver.

playlist: ♫ gorgeous ♪ delicate ♬ i think he knows ♡ you are in love

author's note: Hello everyone! Please be patient as this will be my first fanfic/au. Anyway, this would be part of a series, and each song from the playlist above would be the title of a chapter. I still don't know what to call the series, so if you have any suggestions, please send them my way. Anyway, thanks for reading, and enjoy the story! ✧･ﾟ:૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა✧･ﾟ:

chapter warnings: a lot of swearing.

word count: 1.7k

disclaimer: All characters and events in this story, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional.

𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬

01:58 ━━━━●───── 03:29 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

Your car pulled up in front of the restaurant’s door. Your security guard got out of the shotgun seat and opened your car door. Everyone started to go crazy when they saw you. The lights of the paparazzi’s camera flicking every millisecond, trying to get a photo of every move you make. There’s security on your left and right, protecting you.

The door to the restaurant opened and there was a receptionist holding a clipboard.

"Y/F/N Y/L/N." You smile as you look at her. Their eyes widen and mouth gaped before gesturing for you to go follow the usher. You took an elevator and got off on the rooftop. You walked in and looked around, amazed at the beauty of the place. There were a lot of tables and booths, some afloat on water. There's a lot of people and caterers walking around with food and drinks.

Everyone is dressed in semi-formal attire which made you sigh in relief for your outfit. You are wearing a sparkly sleeveless jumpsuit that showed off your curves and just a bit of your skin.

As you made your way into the party, there were a lot of familiar faces. Celebrities, actors, athletes. You saw Kika and Pierre in a booth in the middle.

"Show me the ring!" You scream as soon as you see your best friend. She turns around and laughs at you.

"Well, hello to you too!" She giggles as the two of you hug. You pull away quickly to see her left hand. A big diamond rock sitting on her ring finger.

"Wow. You sure have taste, Gasly, I'll give you that." You smirked at Pierre and hugged him too.

"Congratulations, you guys! So, am I a bridesmaid?" You joke at Kika, fluttering your eyelashes. You have been best friends for 3 years now, having met at a Louis Vuitton fashion show during Paris Fashion Week. Since then, you and Kika were inseparable. You both understood and supported each other.

"Cut the crap. You know you're maid of honor." She says smirking.

"Oh my god! I love you so much!" You scream and wrap your arms around her. You’ve never been a maid of honor and somewhere in the back of your mind, a memory clicked. You remembered that you and Kika promised to be each other’s maid of honor.

The couple laughs at your reaction and Kika tells you she’ll set up a meeting soon about the wedding, she’s going to be needing help. You nod right away. The grooms are always no help when planning a wedding. Just then, a guy comes up from behind you and greets them.

"Speaking of, here's the best man!" Pierre walks closer to him and does that guy hug thing. The mysterious man was slightly taller than Pierre and was wearing a white unbuttoned shirt and some khaki shorts. He looked good.

"Charles!” Kika greeted. Charl? Is he French? It's the French that don't pronounce the "s" at the end of their names, right?

He kisses Kika's cheeks while he and Pierre talk a bit in French and laugh. You didn't realize you were staring until Kika introduced you to him.

"Y/N, this is Charles, he'll be Pierre's best man." Kika says and you turn to face him. He kind of has a boyish face but his piercing green eyes and stubble that ran from chin to jaw makes him look mature. He looked gorgeous.

"Hi, I’m Charles." He says while extending his hand. He looks into your eyes while talking to you and you almost melted. You shyly look at your hands and look back again at his eyes, to see that he didn’t remove his gaze. Those eyes. How wonderful it would be to get lost in them.

"I’m Y/N." You smile shyly. You were getting shy. You never get shy. You always had the upper hand and was very confident in yourself when meeting new people. But somehow, someway, you can’t say anything.

You take his hand and shake it. You felt like you were drugged when your hands met. It put you on a high, one you want to be in for the rest of your life.

“So happy to finally meet you. You know, they always talk about you and sing your songs, especially Pierre.” Charles says, to make small talk and show that he is friendly and approachable.

“Oh, does he know? He always says my songs are cheesy.” You say while smirking at Pierre, Kika laughing her ass off. “Although I do have a video of him dancing to You Belong With Me.”

Kika’s eyes widen immediately, and the couple looks at each other. Pierre’s face is red from embarrassment. He exclaims, “You told me you didn’t send her the video!”

While the two bickered, you didn’t notice Charles was now standing closer to you. “You know, I would love to have a copy of that video,” He whispers. He was so close that you could smell his perfume.

Before you could reply, Kika is shoo-ing the guys. “Anyway, me and Y/N are gonna do some girl talk now.”

“Look for me later if you want the video.” You whisper to Charles, and he smirks before leaving with Pierre. Charles turns around and winks at you. It caught you off guard, but you smiled. When he looks away and turns back around, you look at Kika and see she was on her phone. Oh my god. The greatest thing that has ever happened to you and your best friend was on her fucking phone.

Kika looks up on her phone and was about to talk to you when she gets dragged into another booth. She looks at you and mouths, “Later.” But you wave her off, you know you can’t hog the host of the party.

You roamed around the party talking to everyone but Charles. You caught up with Kika’s friends; some you met before, some you haven’t. You got along with the other bridesmaids which erased the worry from the back of your mind that you might not get along.

One group of girls were calling themselves “WAGS” and laughing. It seemed like an inside joke, so you whispered to Kika, “What the fuck is a WAG?” and she laughs.

“Wives and girlfriends of professional athletes.” Your face scrunched up in disgust and she nodded her head. “I know, right?”

Good thing Kika was there to tell you that the girls who were calling themselves WAGS are in a relationship with F1 drivers. Kelly and Max, Carmen and George, Heidi and Daniel, Sara and Lance, Lily and Alex, Louise and Kevin, and Egle and Nico.

Some of Pierre’s single friends did try to hit on you, though. But you brushed them off and established being friends with them when they tried to ask you out.

While talking to everyone, you forgot to count how many shots and drinks you’ve been taking. You realized that you were drunk when as you were going to the bathroom, you didn’t take time to adjust to the dimmed lighting and you missed a step and almost fell. Thankfully, a pair of arms came out of nowhere and caught you.

“Est-ce que ça va, mon amour?" Are you okay, love? Charles. You talked to everyone in this party, and this voice you only heard for five minutes but instantly recognize it. He picks you up and you both try to steady yourself.

“Oui, merci.” Yes, thank you. Based on the context of you falling, you assumed that he asked if you were alright. You giggled as you tried your hardest to copy his accent, even though you were flat out drunk.

You lost your balance again and Charles gently set you down to sit on one of the steps. One of his hands going to the small of your back, careful not to hit your back.

Once you were settled, he squats in front of you, a shocked look on his face. He asks, “Tu parles français?" You speak French?

With the dimmed lighting and how close your faces are, you can see just how perfect his face is. He looks like a god.

“What?” You gave up. Your knowledge of the French language only limited to “yes”, “thank you” and “I love you.”

“You understand?” His Monegasque French accent lingering when he talks in English. His grammar is fucking adorable.

“No, I just know a few phrases from travelling to France.” You smile sheepishly. Leaning your head on the wall, “Is it good, though?”

“Yes, yes. Your accent almost fooled me.” He smiles at you. Your stomach is feeling crazy. Is this what it feels like when they say they “have butterflies in their stomach?” Because this feels like a fucking zoo.

“So, I haven’t seen you all night. Have you been ignoring me?” He asks you. You can’t tell if he’s flirting or if it’s a genuine question.

“Hmmm, maybe?” You took a chance and flirted with him. Pretending like you were ignoring his eyes and then looking at him and laughing.

“Why? What did I do?” He pouts. I think he knows that he’s beautiful. Otherwise, he would not have any confidence in pouting in front of a girl, right?

“Hmm, didn’t I tell you to look for me? And not the other way around?” You reminded him.

“Ahh, yes. My apologies, cheri.” He apologizes. His metallic rings startling your warm skin as he takes your right hand and kisses it. You were shocked, eyes wide.

“Can you forgive me, mon amour?” He takes your left hand and kisses it too. With his puppy eyes, he leans closer, still holding both of your hands near his lips.

“I- I-” He looked so gorgeous; you couldn’t say anything. He caught you off guard and your tongue couldn’t form any word. Your brain having a hard time comprehending what was happening.

You nodded your head and he smiled at you. You knew that he was thinking that he had the upper hand, but right now, while he is holding your hands and his face so close to yours, you didn’t mind.

"Apology accepted, mon amour." You try to copy him. His eyes shine when he hears you talk in his mother tongue.

"I have to ask, do you really want Pierre's video, or do you just want my number?" You smirk at him. You try to catch him off guard but he chuckles and smirks back at you.

"Can't a man have both?"

...

↠ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

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rwrbmovie · 9 months

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BTS of #RWRBMovie: 'z' in your last name

TZP via HOLA:

Clifton Collins Jr., who plays my father in the film, was amazing. I knew of him. I’d seen his projects, but we’d never crossed paths before. And then we met and we just got along, thick as thieves. And he’s like an OG Mexican from Los Angeles which was so colorful. He made it feel like there was family on set. Same with Matthew being Puerto Rican. Their influences help you get into that vibe, and then you do the scene and it’s wonderful. You really bring that accuracy to it.

There’s a line in the film when Alex and Henry are in Paris, and Henry asks him a question about his mom’s campaign, and Alex starts telling him about his father and his abuela coming to the States. The line is something like “If you’re an immigrant in America and you have a ‘Z’ in your last name, there’s a lot of people in positions of power that don’t look and sound like you. I’ve been given the opportunity to be someone in the world that my father didn’t see when he was growing up.” As someone with two ‘Zs’ in his last name (laughs), that was a tough scene for me because I had to be there as Alex and not as Taylor. It was very emotional to think of my family and what they went through to come to the United States. Even though they came here a long time ago, you still think about all of the people that are coming to America today and about all of their stories. Alex realizes that his father didn’t have any role models growing up and now he’s a congressman. That fuels his fire to be the change. That was so exciting for me.

From NYT:

For both Zakhar Perez and the director, the character Alex’s biracial identity was particularly meaningful. López grew up in Panama City, Fla., with his Puerto Rican father and Polish Russian mother, while Zakhar Perez is of Mexican, Middle Eastern and Mediterranean descent and was raised in northwest Indiana, where he said there was only one other Mexican family. “Matthew and I talked a lot about the mestizo journey,” Zakhar Perez said in a video call before SAG-AFTRA, the actor’s union, went on strike. “Being part Mexican, part lots of other things, I don’t want to say you’re forgotten, but in today’s world, it’s like, you’re either this or you’re that. There’s nothing in between. I’m kind of a cultural chameleon.” “As a young Latiné queer man, I never read something that centered someone like Alex,” López said, echoing his star. “If I had been presented with this character when I was in my late teens, early 20s, it may have changed how I thought about myself.”

From Windy City Times:

Was the part about having a Z in your last name personal or the book? ML: It was personal. That was about me and Taylor. It came from a conversation that Taylor and I had when making the film.

From Metro Weekly:

Alex has a line about grow ing up in Texas as a kid with a last name that ends with Z, which is I guess something else you can relate to, Florida style. ML: And Taylor Zakhar Perez also. Taylor and I talked about that scene a lot as being something that we both understood. My aunt Priscilla Lopez is a beloved, beloved stage actor. She was in the original cast of A Chorus Line. And there's a story that she tells about Mandy Gonzalez, who was in In the Heights with her, and Mandy once told Priscilla that Priscilla made it okay for her to be someone with a Z in her last name. And that was a thing that Taylor and I spent a lot of time discussing as well. It was important to me that that scene be in the movie. There was never a chance in hell that that scene was ever getting cut.

From Teen Vogue:

TV: One of my favorite parts is when they’re in Paris, and Alex talks about being a young person of color coming up from Texas and not seeing anybody who looked like himself or his dad in politics, and Henry’s response to that simply being: “I’m learning.” I don’t know if you were in the theater for that one, but half the crowd was like, awwwww. ML: Yeah, I was for that. TV: I’m married to a white man, and I was like, that is the perfect thing a white man can say in that situation. ML: I’m married to a white man, too. Speaking as someone who is a person of color married to a white man: that’s like the ultimate thing you ever want your white boyfriend or husband or partner to say. That’s it. “I’m learning.”

ML via THR:

There’s a scene in the movie that is very much me, which I gave Taylor after they’ve had sex for the first time. They’re there in pillow talk mode, and he tells Henry about what it’s like to be the son of an immigrant with a Z in your last name. It was really important to me to talk about growing up with a Z in your last name and even just how our names are pronounced, the spellings of our names sometimes if you have Latin ancestry. To have to answer for your name has always been something for me that I struggled with until I stopped struggling with it. So, I needed to put that into Alex’s story and when it came time to shoot that scene again, it was something I didn’t have to explain to Taylor Zakhar Perez. He got it instantly. The only thing that I did screw him up with is like, “We’re going to do this [scene] as a oner, and we’re going to do it as a top shot that starts in a wide shot and comes all the way down to your face, and we’re not going to leave this scene until you get it right in one.”

#rwrb movie #rwrbedit #red white and royal blue #rwrbsource #taylor zakhar perez #matthew lopez #alex claremont diaz #tzp #*#rwrb bts #rwrbbts #my stuff

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khristie16 · 7 months

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Blindfolded Desires

about: Charles can't resist you any longer, and your party takes an unexpected turn into a dark closet warnings: cnc, fingering, humiliation, tie up Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

“WHAT??!!” You watched your best friend with a mix of confusion and embarrassment. You never thought those feelings could coexist, but they did. After yesterday's fiasco, you bid farewell to Nicole and headed back to your dorm. Your plan? Forget about everything, bury your nose in books, and let your problems sort themselves out.

“I’m sorry YN. He really had his eyes open. And you looked so… eager. It was weird to look at that.”

Frustrated, you sat on the couch in your shared room, holding your head in your hands. This situation was worse than you could have imagined. Your arch-nemesis had left you feeling eager for him while he remained unbothered.

“It was a setup. He did it to make fun of me again!” You reclined on the couch, gazing up at the ceiling, searching for solace.

Realizing it was nearly time for your first class, you hastily reached for your phone. “I'm so sorry, YN. I'll never ask you to come to another one of these ridiculous parties with me,” Nicole said.

You exhaled, torn between frustration and laughter, feeling like a complete mess. “Yeah, I'm never going near him again.” However, it seemed your worst enemy had different plans.

As you walked down the corridor, your gaze fixed on the ground as you passed strangers, someone unexpectedly grabbed your attention.

“Hey,” a guy said in a high-pitched voice, nearly causing you to back away. You tried to place his face as he stood there smiling at you. He seemed familiar.

“I’m Stephan. I was at the party yesterday.” Perplexed, you kept your cool and replied with chilly reserve,

“Oh, hi.” You expected the worst, but his next words caught you off guard.

“I'm sorry for yesterday. My cousin can be a pain in the ass sometimes.” Scrutinising the differences between them, you scrunched your eyebrows. They didn't look alike.

Seemingly attuned to your thoughts, he smiled and said, “Yeah, I know.”

Your tension eased a bit, and you sighed quietly. “Yeah, sorry, but I have a class in a minute, so I've got to go.”

You tried to sound apologetic and gave him a simple smile. You appeared reserved, not unfriendly. “Yeah, sorry. I could catch up with you later, if you don't mind,” he said shyly. You just smiled and waved before continuing on your way.

As you turned the corner, you overheard a deep, slightly angry voice that you didn't want to hear. You hadn't encountered him at school until now, but things were different. He either had a strange interest in you or wanted to make fun of you again, and you weren't sure which was worse.

“Getting your claws into another virgin?” You abruptly confronted him, staring into his eyes. “One more word, Leclerc, and I'll teach you not to mess with me.”

He laughed, his dimples deepening. “Yeah, you're going to teach me how to fuck?” “Maybe,” you retorted, “because those bimbos you have can't tell you that you pretty much suck at it.”

His expression darkened, and he contemplated grabbing you by the neck, but instead, he stood taller and spoke from above.

“Careful, jolie. You should watch your mouth.” Your gaze flared with anger as both of you breathed heavily. A sudden clap of thunder broke the tension between you and Charles as you walked away, leaving your scent behind, something he longed to bathe in.

A few days passed, and you were preparing for another party, a Halloween one. You didn't want to dress provocatively, so you considered going as the Grinch. However, your best friend Nicole disapproved, saying, “You cannot be serious.” Rolling your eyes, you explained that you had no interest in showing off your body just because everyone else did. Nicole understood but suggested you choose a different character or actor to dress up as.

The next evening, you walked beside Nicole and her boyfriend, all dressed up as you reached the main entrance of a big hall where the music resonated through the walls. At that moment, you were second-guessing your decision to attend the party.

“Oh, come on, YN, you'll have fun,” Nicole assured you. She was right; you just didn't know it yet.

“Pulp Fiction?” You turned to see Stephen, and you smiled and nodded as you observed his Dracula costume.

“You know, I almost thought I wouldn't see you tonight.” You chuckled in response and began to pour yourself a drink. Stephen promptly took your cup, saying he would do it. You appreciated the gesture and decided to strike up a conversation.

“Do you like Halloween?” you asked. “Not necessarily, but Charles wants me to socialize.”

As you talked, you felt someone's touch on your shoulder. “Nice outfit,” Charles said. You eyed him with arrogance, and he asked if you thought he was a CEO. "007," he clarified. You nodded, unimpressed, and turned away to go to the restroom.

“Wait,” he said, his hand on your bare arm, making you feel a burning sensation. “Dance with me.” You burst into laughter, “Go bully someone else.”

A few hours passed, and the alcohol had definitely taken its toll. The room spun as you danced on the parquet floor with strangers, having lost sight of Nicole in the crowded venue. Numerous hands grasped at your waist, shifting around depending on opportunity. You were lost in the music, feeling it pulse through your entire body.

Suddenly, the music came to an abrupt stop, and you snapped back to sobriety in an instant. You quickly pulled away from the hands that had been holding you and made your way toward the exit. But as you approached it, something or someone grabbed you, and darkness enveloped your vision. And a hot body against you.

Your wrists were swiftly bound, and the sensation of a cold wall against your cheek intensified as the mysterious person spun you around. He held you firmly by your hair, and the pulsating music from outside surged back to full volume. His fingers trailed down your spine, gripping your buttocks with a determined force that caused a slight discomfort.

With a calculated move, he used his foot to part your legs and he went lower with his fingers to your core. He acted without hesitation, as if he were determined not to waste a single moment with you. He massaged your bud and you responded in arching your back toward his tight hot body. His skillful touch conveyed an intimate bliss of your desires, making you unable to contain your moans. He leaned in closer to capture every sound from your mouth and increased the pace of his movements. You were soaking wet it was all over his hand and getting down your thighs. The combination of alcohol and overwhelming sensations left you unable to think rationally. When he began to caress your breasts, you lost all control and climaxed, releasing your pleasure over his hand. All you could hear from him was a loud groan. As he helped you remove the belt from your wrists, he spoke to you,

“Desperate for my fingers as well, huh?” In that moment, you felt as if you could vanish into the ground, fully realizing the intensity of the situation.

#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you

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outlanderskin · 1 month

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Tobias Menzies

I was reading on a card how much would fit in ten years and I saw that in 10 Years

fit 120 Months

521,714 Weeks

3652 Days

87648 Hours

5258880 Minutes

315532800 Seconds.

And even in all this, it doesn't fit what it meant for me to wait for him.

Within these 10 years, there are memories of being persecuted since the beginning when I said that he was my favorite.

All the times, I had to explain the difference between actors and characters for people who hated him because of Frank and BJR.

All the times I've had to say that I really like Sam, but that at the top of my list will always be Tobias, and this isn't a sin.

All the times I said there was no dispute between them.

All the times I was hurt when I saw people from my side of the fandom excluding him from photos or wishing he wouldn't go to some events because it would "take the focus" away from the main actors couple (yes, this stupid thing happened).

I've been in this fandom since the beginning, and anyone who knows me knows that for me, it's always been about him. I'm not someone who started using Tobias to justify hatred or to disguise an unhealthy love for Sam. It was natural from the first day I looked at him. And a thousand times, I've expressed my pride about how private, talented, different, down-to-earth he is.

I've been going to Cons of Outlander since 2015, but he rarely does Cons, I had already met the loves of my fandom friends' lives, but never mine. Until Saturday, April 13, 2024.

When I took the first photo (with him and Sam) and saw him for the first time, everything around me disappeared completely. There he was, finally. I was practically led by my friend, I gathered all the courage to say where I came from, then he blinked, and all my senses and rationality, and 🎶🎶🎶 all that was me, was gone🎶. I don't remember how I left the room, but my friends remember... I needed to be strong, I thought. There would still be three photos with him alone (one of them a gift from much-loved friends), a photo with him and Sophie, and an autograph. I would have to maintain my sanity until then.

For the first time, I understood the fact that Sam Heughan's fans left photo shoots shaking.

During the photo shoot, I spoke quietly, and so did he, and for me, it was like a dance because I said he decided the poses and I followed. I left the session and I want to thank from the bottom of my heart the girl on the team who asked me how I was and I could only say "he's my favorite" and she hugged me.

There was a rush at the autograph, but I gave him a book about theatre from my country, and I believe it was a gift he didn't expect. He thanked me with his hand on his chest, like the gentleman he is and at that moment I wanted to be royalty because I was going to give him all the honors of a noble English knight that I could find in the Buckingham Palace . Do I like British Monarchy? I like Tobias Menzies.

Ah....how I wish I could sit down with him and say he has a fan page that I manage, say that I admire him for being truly discreet in every way. Ask about his process of acting , speak about Stanislavski, Brecht, Ibsen, talk about my experiences in the classroom with The Theater of the Oppressed and say how good is for me to see someone like him acting. But conventions are collective experiences, and there would be no time.

In ten years, a lot can happen... all this time waiting for him. And I would do it all again. Someone like him was worth waiting for.

#outlander #fandom is for fun #the love of my life

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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actor!au with bakugou where you’re on the press tour for your up and coming princess movie or something.

of course he’s the romantic interest to your character, the lead, so you’re paired together for the entire junket — seated with one another for interviews across the globe. the whole experience is filled with laughter, smiles, and sharing little facts about one another behind the scenes.

you’re always the first person bakugou searches for on the red carpet at each premier — he reaches for your hand during photos and sneakily slips one around your waist to subconsciously pull you closer towards him.

the fans all think that you’re in love from the way katsuki hangs into your every word when the two of you are stopped for questions. the way he whole heartedly laughs, with his whole body, at a joke you’ve told that’s probably not even that funny.

it’s probably not true. you’re just coworkers who spent months getting to know one another. coworkers who’ve kissed more times than you can count with one hand and who’ve shared secret snacks on set because the days were long and hot but totally worth it for the smiles little girls and boys give you when their princess and her prince bend down to give them a squeeze.

you know that you’ll miss bakugou when this is all over and the movie is out and you’re not showing up to red carpets trying to guess if the PR team will have coordinated your outfits to match those of the final scene in the movie when your characters get married. you’ll hope to work with him again, secretly, praying that you get to be close to him once more.

the final straw that breaks the camels back and gets you to realise that maybe you like bakugou a little more than just co-stars is when you’re both invited for a special interview with big fans of your princess film. children not older than eight or nine wriggle in front of you both with curious questions and katsuki is equally as charmed as you by the costumes they wear that link up with your characters.

for the most part they ask you silly questions like the hardest thing about being a prince or princess, what time you have to wake up for filming and your favourite foods (to which you tell them “he likes spicy tofu, the kind that makes you breathe fire!” and bakugou replies with “are you tellin’ ‘em i’ve got bad breath?” and that makes the kids laugh). but then, the little boy sitting opposite bakugou grows shy and timid towards the end of your time together and the blonde stops the interview from ending so that he can get his question out.

“how did you know that you were in love with her?”

your heart flutters, and you don’t have the heart to tell the poor boy that your acting is make believe and for the silver screen — but bakugou beats you to it, ruffling the kid’s hair fondly.

“i knew ‘cause i was always lookin’ for her whenever we entered a room. she was the first person i saw, the last person i’d want to see,” he rasps, the wisps of a smile on his lips despite the cameras rolling and capturing what feels like a love confession towards his costar. towards you. “i knew ‘cause she was always so kind to me even when i didn’t deserve it, to people who doubted her, to people who loved her. s’been a while since i realised, guess i never said anythin’ but if you like a princess, kid — make sure you tell her before a handsome prince snatches her up first.”

the boy grins eagerly at the blonde’s answer and filming wraps up from there. “they’ll have to cut that bit out,” you say softly, making your way back to the dressing rooms with katsuki. “to avoid scandal, probably.”

but he cocks his head, rolling his eyes at you as if you hadn’t understood a word he’d said. “it’d only be a scandal if it weren’t true. i meant what i said. i like you, dummy.”

you lean against the dressing room door, mouth agape. “w-why didn’t you say anything before?”

“because i was just worried that my princess had already been swept off her feet by her handsome prince.”

“by you, i’d been swept of my feet by you. stupid.”

you take a step back and bakugou follows you forward, caging you in. “guess that makes me your prince charming.” he quips, leaning down to your height.

tilting your head upwards, you smile gently and let your hands rest on katsuki’s broad shoulders. “you’ve been playing that part for the last few months, have you not.”

“yeah, ‘guess i have,” he mirrors your expression, lips brushing over yours in a real true loves kiss.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou drabble #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fluff #this is definitely inspired by halle and the little mermaid press tour #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted

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rookthorne · 7 months

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𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑻𝑾𝑶

》 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤

The mask that covered the Soldat both embodied the character and hid the man behind it, the cloak of his character so effective it was a shock when he cornered and isolated you, to ask you out on a date. Stranger things had happened, that you were sure of.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 》 Scare Actor!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 》 5.0k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 》 Fluff, a game of chase with an intensity times a hundred, consensual stalking, primal, knife play ჻჻჻ TROPES: Meet cute, first date, friends to lovers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 》 There is a surprise cameo in here of someone I never thought I would write for... Halloween called for it.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 》 @smutconnoisseur

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 》 @rookthorne's Fright Night — Masterlist

》 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

》 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

》 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍

What felt like years had passed since the previous night.

After your encounter with the infamous Soldat, you had gone home feeling unsettled, unmoored with the curiosity that held you in such a tight vice it was impossible to breathe without the urge to research and know more.

You had eventually given in – the social media platforms did not pull much of what you didn’t already know, however, you realised that Soldat had his own playlist on the park’s YouTube channel. Each video was filmed with a shaky camera and you could see him stalking after the person filming, and then he would vanish when they went through a crowd, just like a ghost – what he proclaimed to be.

Comments called him a hoax, a stunt pulled by the park to call more visitors to the park. Which, you admitted, had worked – you went there and you signed that waiver just to have a chance to encounter him.

Granted, you had gotten much more than you bargained for by far, that was for certain. Being hunted like prey and then cornered in an alleyway, only to find out he was intrigued by you…

“Hmm,” you hummed, scrolling through the comments of a video. A single comment caught your attention and you stopped your mindless scrolling and paused to read it.

He chased after me for like ten minutes. It was the scariest thing in my life and I commend him for his skill. Looking forward to coming back next season!

A short video was attached. It portrayed Soldat over the shoulder of the poster, flipping his knife nonchalantly as he stared straight at the camera.

You couldn’t help but notice that every time you stumbled upon something pertaining to the Soldat that no one mentioned his proximity – not a single word about how they’d been pulled to his chest or had his hands on them and a knife to their throat. “That’s- That can’t be right,” you said, furrowing your brows.

Had he made an exception for you?

The worker that walked you through the waiver had endlessly assured you that this was due process, and that every person that signed the waivers was given the option to opt out of encounters with Soldat. He went on to explain that even if you did sign the waiver, there was no guarantee to have an interaction with a specific character.

You still signed it, fully understanding the fact that it wasn’t a promise to see the Soldat. There was that hope, maybe even longing, that he would make an appearance, and you had been accutely surprised with just how he had presented himself.

He stood so close you could feel his chest rise and fall against your back with every breath; you could hear his muffled words behind the mask, the accented dialogue of his character tinged with a mother tongue of Russian.

You wondered where the actor was from – whether he was just putting on a show, or whether he was in fact, from Russia. From what you understood and researched, the words he spoke translated to something that made you shiver.

Those feelings and those words did not leave your mind as you slept, nor as you worked through the day. It was enough of a distraction that you had made so many slip ups and mistakes without realising, and you had been forced to start tasks over half way through.

Your coworkers had revelled in that, even teased you for it.

Sighing heavily, you placed your phone down in your lap and stared at the wall of your bedroom. Nightfall was creeping closer and closer. Soon you would need to leave to get to the park and that’s when you would see him, and that thought sent a thrill of excitement up your spine.

Hours later, you stood at the entryway of the park once again. It felt surreal, like you were walking through a lucid dream filled with excited crowds flocking their way through the attractions.

It was the eve of Halloween and everything had been ramped up – lights, fire, and fog were increased exponentially. There were even more actors stalking through the crowds and scattering them like pins in a bowling alley.

A few of them tried jumping in front of you, but you only stared at them with a smirk when they pouted at your lack of reaction. “Ain’t here for a scare, lamb?” one asked, baring his teeth.

“Nah,” you replied, “just here to watch everyone else lose their shit.” Whether it was in character or not, the actor laughed and moved on, amused with your blunt answer.

Your reason for venturing to the park, however, could not have been more wrong. The words that the Soldat had said to you the previous night, “I will find you, kotenok. You will not escape so easily next time,” rang through your mind, bouncing off the confines of your skull.

If he were here, he would find you, you reasoned. With that self-assurance, you started forward and passed through the sign in desk with a practised ease, then you headed straight off towards the rides. The crowd cleared as you walked, and you laughed at a group of young men as they scattered from an actor that had skidded across the floor towards them.

“Little lamb!” a woman’s voice yelled, and you spun around to find Widow walking towards you, this time without her bat-hybrid weapon. Instead of a torn up leather jacket, she was wearing a suit – dark crimson, like her hair – and her white dress shirt was splattered with gore. “You came back! Soldat left you in peace, then.”

You grinned. “He didn’t make it easy, Widow.” She laughed – a manic sound that made your gut twist. “Anyway, I best get on,” you said simply. “I am being hunted.”

“Oh, don’t I know it, little one,” she sang. A bubble of gum popped as she spoke, and she went on her way, swinging her hips and jumping at the crowd to make them yell with fear.

The archway to the ride section of the park loomed as you walked towards it, and you took a deep breath. On the exhale, you heard a loud bang right next to you and you shrieked, jumping to the side and you slammed into the shoulder of a bystander. “Sorry, oh my god–I’m so s-” You stopped and your mouth fell open.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” the man purred. His head was covered in a black cowl with a red insignia, but his eyes were a striking blue – if he didn’t look so foreboding, you would have trusted him. Black armour covered his shoulders, that same red insignia plastered right on his chest. “Wouldn’t wanna run into the wrong fella ‘round here.”

“N-No, sorry,” you stuttered.

For some unknown reason, this particular actor struck a deep chord of fear within you – just like The Soldat did.

He smirked – it was a dark, sinister pull of his lips that made you shudder. “Run along now, little lamb.”

You squeaked and shuffled off, keenly aware of his eyes watching after you.

The archway was only a few feet away when you looked up from your trainer-clad feet, only to freeze in place. A man, clad in black and eyes lined with kohl, stared straight back at you while flipping a knife in his left hand. The glint of metal caught you by surprise, and you abruptly realised the reason his hand was so cold against your mouth the previous night was because it was made of metal.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you stared at him, and him at you.

He was leaning against the wall with an arm across his chest, and he didn’t seem bothered by the crowds around him giving him such a wide berth that the archway was almost impassible. You noticed a set of hard knee guards over the canvas of his pants, and heavy boots ladened and covered with straps were on his feet.

“Oh, no,” you breathed, blinking owlishly at him. His stare didn’t waver, but if you weren’t mistaken, you watched the corner of one of his eyes crinkle. The bastard was smirking.

“Ah, my little kotenok,” he called, his voice as raspy and deep as it was the night before. “I told you I would find you.” The knife slipped back into a holster at his hip, and he strode forward. You only took a few hesitant steps back. “Where are you off to, devochka?”

“Anywhere but here.” You turned and bolted in the opposite direction, ignoring the way people watched you flee with widened eyes. “Can’t catch me this time!”

“Oh, YA by snova podumal, kotenok,” he said right behind you. “You can only run so far.”

You screamed and ran faster, laughing as you did so – almost in hysterics from the adrenaline, when the footsteps behind you suddenly stopped. Instinct told you that you were not safe, he was indeed a ghost that you could not outrun, but damn it all if you weren’t going to try.

“And there she goes, run, lamb,” Widow called ahead of you, and she bowed as you ran past. “Run, run, as fast you can–Soldat will catch you!”

“Not helpful!” you yelled back over your shoulder, and her laughter could be heard over the loud music.

Yesterday had taught you a valuable lesson, and no matter how many empty and dark alleyways you passed, you did not stop to rest – only sticking to the main walkways as you panted and slowed down to a stop. People looked at you as they passed, but you brushed off their curious stares as you heaved for breath, hands on your knees.

A bench was only a few feet away, and you decided it wasn't too much of a risk just to sit down – you were still in the open and there were minimal shadows for the Soldat to hide. It was a flat bench situated in front of a garden of sorts; plants of all sizes and dark colours flourishing.

“Fuck,” you huffed, and you sat down heavily on the hard surface. “This shit is insane.”

Cold metal closed over your mouth, and your muffled shout went ignored as knees pressed into your back, or, more accurately, hard plastic knee guards. The same ones that you saw the Soldat wearing. “I told you, kotenok,” he growled. His knife dug into your neck, pinching the skin. “You cannot run from me. I will hunt you.”

“You’re such an ass,” you grumbled behind his hand, and you gasped as he yanked you back. The new position allowed you to look into his eyes; a haunting, predatory glint danced across the shades of grey.

“Povtori. Nemnogo gromche,” he snarled, narrowing his eyes.

The danger in his tone made you gulp, a painful action with the angle of your neck. “What?”

“I said, devochka,” he snapped, the tip of his blade dancing across your jugular. “Say that a little louder for me.”

Oh, no, you thought, and you shook your head. Pain shot down your legs and you shuffled them In an attempt to alleviate the pressure on your spine.

Soldat clicked his tongue, evidently disappointed. “Run, then, kotenok. When I catch you again, you will regret it.” He shoved you forward and he disappeared into the shrubs.

It was like he wasn’t even there in the first place.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned, getting to your feet with a wince. The music of the park was louder in your ears, screams and cries of shock even more so as you frantically looked around for a new escape route.

For what felt like only a few moments, you were free – walking briskly between attractions and groups of visitors to throw off the tail you knew was on you, when it happened. You had only stopped for a second, just to look and decide whether to turn left or right, when you heard a group of women cry out and point behind you.

Your stomach swooped with fear. A sharp exhale left your lips before you turned on the balls of your feet to face your assailant, only, he was right there – barely a foot of distance between your bodies. His head was tilted, long, dark hair drifted over the holes in his mask, and his eyes were fixed on you; both a sense of bright curiosity and dark foreboding flashing across them in equal measure.

“You are not very good at the game of cat and mouse, little kotenok,” he mused, and a sparkle of mischief twinkled in his eyes for a split second. “Maybe I should teach you.”

People swarmed around you, excited to be getting a proper look at the infamous Soldat, but he didn’t seem perturbed by the attention.

You fought against your heart that seemed to have made its new home in your throat, and you stammered a quiet, “You’re just too damn good at your job.”

A huff of breath blew his hair up and off the mask. “You flatter me.” He looked around then at the crowd, like he was assessing it for his own escape route. “Would you like to try again, little one?” He looked back at you, brow raised. “You seem to have garnered quite the reputation for being a sassy feyyerverk.”

“Firework?”

“Close,” he hummed. “My little kotenok is a firecracker–fierce and cute.”

Cute? “Soldat,” you said, unable to keep the sense of disbelief from your tone, “Are you-”

“Run,” he intoned, interrupting you. He pulled a knife from the holster at his hip and brandished it. You caught his subtle glance to the alleyway between two attractions that seemed to be dying in popularity.

You blanched at the sight of the knife, and you took off running in the direction he glanced at. People around you scattered as your feet hit the pavement, and you could hear Soldat run in a different direction, away from you.

The alleyway was deserted, as you hoped, and you leaned against the fence to catch your breath. “At least I have my cardio done,” you huffed, hand over your chest.

“That is an understatement,” a voice said in the shadows, a ghost of a laugh in their voice.

“Ah! What the fuck!”

The Soldat appeared, flipping his knife as he stared at you. “Such a flighty thing, aren’t you?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms. “Says the one that had me fleeing through the park for a second night in a row.”

“Guilty.” He shrugged a shoulder, then holstered his knife. “I cannot help it, kotenok. I love the chase.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have known,” you deadpanned, and you sighed when you saw his eyes crinkle in what you knew was a cheeky grin. “Anyway, what does the infamous, shadowed Soldat want, huh?”

He leaned against the fence and crossed his arms, still watching you intently. “I did not lie when I said that you… Intrigued me–your waiver was most amusing.” There was a beat of silence, then, “As I hunted you these past two nights, I watched you with my colleagues. You were never frightened–shocked, yes, but not frightened. I have made a name for myself with this character I play, and I have never encountered anyone–let alone a woman, that was not terrified of me.”

You blinked. “And this means–?”

“It means that for once in my life,” he began, and you couldn’t help but notice the change in his voice – the accent was almost nonexistent and his demeanour became hospitable, almost friendly. It made you so overwhelmingly curious on how he acted out of character. “Well, it means that I am breaking out of my ‘infamous character’ and his tendencies, and I am going to ask you out on a date.”

“A date?” you repeated, absolutely floored. The sounds of the park were muted in the background, and all you could hear was the hammering of your heart in your ears; feel it in your throat. “You- You are asking me out on a date?”

Soldat raised a brow and then shook his head, as though he was exasperated. “What, you need your hearing checked as well as your attitude?”

“Hey!” you laughed, slapping his shoulder. The leather was warm to the touch, and you immediately drew back. “Where did this sass come from?”

He shrugged and looked down at his feet, fidgeting. “No one knows. It’s nice to be able to sass someone in costume–it’s amusing.”

“I didn’t know you were such a little shit,” you stated. “I mean, I could have guessed since you chase people for a living–and you’re too damn good at it, too.”

He bowed low and spread his arms. “Thank you, princess.”

“Shut up.”

A moment of silence passed as you looked into his face and the earnest, open look of his eyes stirred something in you. Feelings long dormant – ones that had been non-existent for many moons, it felt – rose and swirled in your stomach, bringing butterflies to life. They fluttered and flocked around, the foreign sensation setting your nerves aflame.

“I will–go on a date; with you,” you clarified, smiling softly.

His face brightened and you suspected his grin would have been blinding if the mask wasn’t hiding it from view. “I get off this shift in an hour,” he explained, looking over your shoulder. “I’ll meet you by the entrance. I’ll take you out for–how about a milkshake?”

“Oh, my god, yes,” you rushed, nodding vehemently. “What about that diner?”

Soldat nodded once. “Sounds like a plan, doll.”

Your stomach swooped again and you were speechless at the sweet pet name. “I- What do I–?”

“Name’s Bucky,” Soldat offered. “I’d take your hand and I would kiss your knuckles–be a real Disney prince, but,” he gestured at the mask. “I’ll save that for later.”

“Okay,” you breathed, still unable to believe what was happening. Just as you offered your name, Bucky stepped closer and you let him bring you into his chest. You wrapped your arms around him – a gentle hug that conveyed all of what you couldn’t express. “I will see you later?”

“You betcha.” Bucky squeezed your shoulder and walked past you. “Go have fun. I’ll find you.”

You grinned at him as he walked backwards. “Go get ‘em, tiger!” He saluted and jogged off, sticking to the shadows.

For the entire hour you explored the park, watching as visitors scrambled from actors or fawned over certain ones as the stalked past. There was the occasion that you caught a glimpse of Bucky as he followed different people, but he never broke character to acknowledge you, nor did he even glance your way.

It afforded you the opportunity to watch from an outsider’s vantage point – after having been so thoroughly been chased over the past two days. You could never stop and admire just how skilled Bucky was at his job. His muscled frame was surprisingly lithe and agile, and whenever his target searched for him, he’d always expertly hide, successfully out of sight but never out of mind.

A perfect tactic if you’d ever seen one; drive the target mad with the feeling of being watched while slowly, carefully covering the distance, before pouncing.

The hour wore on and as it ticked over, you made your way to the main entrance. At this hour, the crowds had started to thin out, leaving behind only the very dedicated patrons – all of which flocked in packs and walked back and forth, taunting the actors.

You leaned against the gate and contently watched people pass by, wondering just where Bucky would be, when a figure approached.

A large duffle bag was slung over his shoulder, of which were exceptionally broad and pulled the dark red henley taut over his chest. Tight, dark jeans stretched over his thighs, while black combat boots thumped over the pavement.

The stranger looked up and met your gaze, and your heart stopped; ceasing its rhythm entirely. You’d know those eyes anywhere, you had seen them for two nights in a row, covered and lined with kohl, but they were no less distinctive.

His hair, while loose and greasy as his time in character, was now damp and clean, a slight curl at the ends that came to his jaw.

“Hey, doll,” he greeted, grinning widely as he stood in front of you. “You ready to go?”

Words failed you. You blinked, opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again-

Bucky laughed. “I know, I look different. I can’t walk around looking like someone’s worst nightmare all the time.”

“Different?” you parroted, gesturing at his chest, then just at his body in general. “Where the hell were you hiding all this?”

“You have to be fit to keep up with mischievous kittens, don’t you?” he teased. The words made your whole body heat, but you were saved from responding when he nodded to the parking lot. “Now, if you’re done bein’ starstruck, doll, let’s head out and get those milkshakes.”

“Huh,” you managed, voice thin. “Yeah–yeah, let’s go.”

Bucky grinned and grabbed your hand, pulling you along. “So, what’s your favourite–milkshake, I mean.”

“That’s a loaded question.” The two of you came to a stop at a classic muscle car, the paint gleaming under the tall, overhead lights. “Nice car, Buck,” you praised.

“Why, thank you, sweetheart,” he purred, throwing the duffle bag in the trunk. “I built her from the ground up.”

The drive to the diner was a little while, the time filled with small talk that didn’t venture past anything you wouldn’t discuss as friends. It drove your curiosity – Bucky was such a well spoken man, never presumptuous and he respected you, not to mention he seemed to be intrigued with anything you offered him.

He asked you about your job, what you did in your spare time; hobbies, dreams, things that you felt so safe to offer him, and he offered you the same in return.

You found out he had been a scare actor for his youth, too – working hard to save up for his car, and to provide for his family.

“For years,” he began as he pulled up to a stop light. “I shadowed a man that no one really knew much about. But, when I tell you that he was a master at what he did? I am not lyin’ one bit.” The engine purred as he shifted back into first gear when the light turned green. “He taught me all I know.”

The diner came into view a few moments later, and the obnoxious red and pink lighting stood out amongst the other late night dwellings. Bucky pulled the car into a park by the entrance, slipping out the driver’s seat to jog over and open your door. “Madame,” he said, bowing as you stood up.

You laughed a little and stepped to the side so Bucky could close the door, and the chirp of the car alarm sounded soon after. “I love this place,” you said quickly, walking towards the door – of which Bucky opened before you could even get a hand on the handle. “It’s always got the best milkshakes.”

“I have to agree,” Bucky offered, going to the counter. “Pick a seat for us. I’ll order.”

There was a booth free in the corner, out of the way and shielded from prying eyes of other patrons that sipped at their drinks or dug into their baskets of food, even at this late hour.

Bucky soon slid into the bench seat of the booth opposite to you, a smile on his lips, when you suddenly blurted, “You are so different to your character.” There was a beat of silence as he comfortably situated himself, and you felt compelled to go on. “Don’t get me wrong, Buck, you are one of the best guys I’ve ever met. It is just so surprising that you can switch so easily. The Soldat is terrifying, if I’m honest.”

“Practice.” He placed his chin on his fist, looking into your face. “I’ve been doing this for years now. You leave your character when you take off the costume–sure, he’s me, but he’s also pretty fucked up. It’s an act. He doesn’t leave the park–he gets packed up in my duffle at the end of every shift.”

You mirrored his posture, smiling as he winked at you. “It’s just fascinating, that’s all.”

“You’re cute when you’re curious,” Bucky said quietly, and you blinked. “I mean it, doll. It’s sweet. Not to mention refreshing.”

“Well,” you started, scrambling for words as your tongue seemed to tie itself. “You- Interesting doesn’t cover it.”

“Aren’t you good at makin’ a fella feel special,” he cooed, a slight, rosy blush high on his cheeks.

For what felt like hours, you sat opposite Bucky, learning about him while he learned all about you – it was an instant connection that you had never felt before, not with anyone. You learned that he had sisters and that he was a twin, and his best friend was called Steve who also worked at the same park.

“You may have seen him tonight, actually,” Bucky ventured, biting his bottom lip. “He was wearing his black get-up, red insignias?”

“Oh! Yeah,” you said quickly, slapping your hand down on the table. “I bumped into him! He scared the daylights out of me.”

Bucky laughed. “Lemme guess, he pulled out the charm card, then decided to tell you to run?”

“Yes!” you cried, eyes wide. “What is his deal?”

“He’s up there with me, he just loves fuckin’ with lone visitors. He takes after me for that, punk,” Bucky laughed, shaking his head.

“You tell him, from me, that he is an asshole.”

“Will do,” Bucky promised, winking. “Stevie’ll take it like a compliment, knowin’ him.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. The sky was lightening up outside, and you baulked at the clock hanging from the wall across the diner. It was the early morning – you had stayed out with Bucky for hours, literal hours, and you hadn’t even realised.

Bucky turned around to look as well, and he chuckled. “I think we both got places to be today?” he questioned, looking back at you. “And we got tonight, too.”

“Uh, yeah,” you agreed, yawning slightly. “You’ll be there tonight?”

Bucky nodded. “‘Course I will–you?”

You hummed an ascent and rose from the sticky leather seat of the booth. “I’ll call a cab. I can’t wait to get a few hours of shut eye.”

“Wait,” Bucky quietly said, offering his hand. “I paid already–no, don’t argue with me–can I take you home, doll? Please?”

You hesitated, but he had never revealed any red flags, not that you had noticed. He had been the perfect gentleman, and you couldn’t help but feel attached to him already, which, objectively, biassed your point of view. “If you’re sure,” you replied, raising a brow. “I don’t want to impose-”

“You never could, sweetheart,” Bucky assured softly. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

When Bucky pulled up to the curb of your apartment, he killed the engine and made to get out of the car. “You don’t have to-” You started, but Bucky shook his head. “Alright, alright,” you said quietly. More to yourself, you muttered, “Maybe chivalry isn’t dead.”

“I would hope not,” Bucky said, right next to you.

You jumped and shrieked, a cut off noise that made Bucky laugh. “You have to stop doing that.”

“Nah. I don’t think I will.”

At your door, Bucky stepped back and waited for you to unlock the door with your keys, but before you stepped inside, you turned to him, biting your lip. “I had a really good time tonight, Bucky. Thank you.”

Bucky beamed proudly. “Anytime, doll. Would you want to go out with me again? I don’t care if it’s too soon to ask,” he rushed, not allowing you a chance to interject. “I had a fun time with you tonight. You’re sweet, witty–intelligent, too.”

“Flatterer,” you accused, willing your heart to slow. “It’s working, though. And yes, I’d love to go out with you again. How about after Halloween?”

“Sounds perfect to me, baby,” he said quietly, and you felt heat rise on your neck. Your heart skipped a beat and you shied away slightly, so unused to attention. “Can I have your number? I can text you so you have mine.”

You took his offered phone and typed your number in, careful to get it correct in your tired state. “Here you go,” you whispered, blinking sluggishly. “You’ll get home safely?”

“Of course,” Bucky said confidently. “You gonna be alright for the night? You look dead on your feet, doll.”

“I’ll be fine.” You stepped forward and embraced him, hugging him with all your remaining strength. His arms wrapped around you and he sighed happily. “Thank you for tonight–text me when you get home?”

“Will do,” Bucky offered.

Tension filled the air as you pulled back, and you considered whether you should act on the urge to kiss him – to embody the true want to be close to him. Fuck it, you thought.

Bucky seemed to anticipate it or want it just as bad. He met you halfway, bringing you into his chest as his lips met yours. It wasn’t chaste and it stole your breath, and in that singular second, you decided you wanted more – but at least, not for right now.

You wanted a second date, first.

Pulling back, you smiled and Bucky smirked. “And that’ll get me home jus’ fine, sweetheart.” You giggled and stepped back, moving towards the door just as Bucky said, “Goodnight, baby. Have a good sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow–don’t forget that we have a game of cat and mouse to play.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased. The inside of your apartment was quiet as you slipped inside. “See you tomorrow, Buck.”

He waved, and you closed the door quietly, resting your forehead on the cool wood as you took deep, steadying breaths.

A sense of anticipation settled over you – Halloween was the busiest night of the year at that park, and you knew that Bucky would not let you get away so easily as he allowed before. You would just have to outsmart him, or attempt to, at least.

That night, after curling up in bed, you slept and dreamed of a shadowed man, running and chasing after you, his laughter loud and carefree.

devochka = girl ya by snova podumal, kotenok = I would think again, kitten povtori. nemnogo gromche = repeat that. a little louder. feyyerverk = firework/firecracker

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #rookthorne's works

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utilitycaster · 2 months

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Do you think that Laura and Marisha are deliberately making their relationship somewhat toxic and unsustainable or do you think they see the relationship as healthy? It is just so different from all of the other relationships they have been a part of and not really in a good way. Would love to get your perspective on it if you have one

I am honestly unsure. I would like to say it's deliberate. Prior to it becoming canon, in fact, I, and a lot of other people who were less than enthused by Imogen and Laudna's romance and weren't entirely sold from the start, made the case that we expected they would be talking to each other and would put together a compelling story, not the dull fluff so common in fanon. While whether it's compelling is a subjective judgment, we know for a fact they didn't talk to each other. We know for a fact Marisha was surprised by the question of "Can I kiss you," and Laura was surprised by the answer. We know from a 4SD not long after (4SD #16, Kiss and Tell) that several episodes later they still hadn't talked. We know that Marisha perceives Laudna as holding Imogen back (and that Laudna perceives herself as doing so) from the Rose City Q&A. We know that from 4SD #20 (Episode Twenty) that Laura doesn't like conflict in narrative and Marisha does, and that Laura was thrown by Laudna's regression following Ashton's attempt to absorb the shard (4SD #19, Shard Candy).

I don't know if it's deliberate or not; I don't have any extra insight that isn't public knowledge any fan can easily access. But man, it doesn't feel like these are two actors on the same page about what's going on.

I've touched on this before but mostly in tags or whisper posts but I've always felt ill at ease with a number of for lack of a better term "fandom-approved opinions" and one of the ones that has baffled me the most is this idea that Marisha and Laura have exceptional chemistry. I watched Campaign 1 knowing the endgame ships but deliberately avoiding the fandom, and Vex and Keyleth did not even once occur to me as a thing. I watched the first year of Campaign 2 without a ton of fandom interaction because I was avoiding additional C1 spoilers and it seemed crystal clear that the obvious ship was Beau and Yasha; it felt like Beau and Jester only even had enough potential for me to multiship it as my general "whomever Jester picks" for like, 30 episodes. And yet people - people who didn't even ship either of the above ships and in some cases disliked them- would just say "oh man I can't wait until we get to a campaign where we can finally explore Marisha and Laura's incredible chemistry!" and it's like. I feel like I'm the kid in the Emperor's New Clothes on this! I understand that chemistry is to an extent a matter of taste and subjectivity, but it just increasingly feels like people looked at two campaigns of tables where Ashley was frequently absent and said "well, if I want an F/F ship that's between two of the women in the cast, I guess this is what I have to work with" and repeated to themselves that a flat pamplemousse La Croix was a Piña Colada until they started to believe it. I mean if someone wants to explain it to me in good faith I suppose be my guest and I will try to take it in, but it feels like people just treat this as incontrovertible fact and if you doubt it they're like "don't you have eyes" and it's like, well, pretend I don't. Explain like I'm eyeless and five because I have never understood this. They both have more chemistry with every single other cast member; it's not all romantic but man, I didn't even buy Laudna and Imogen as platonic best friends of two years. I have never had this problem with any other pre-existing character relationships Marisha and Laura have played, platonic or otherwise. It's literally just them. I just never feel like they're quite on the same page.

Back to the relationship between Imogen and Laudna onscreen, this was easily the best conversation since the start of the gnarlrock fight, and it is my hope it doesn't fizzle out the way that did. You can't keep kissing Laudna whenever she fears she's lost forever to Delilah, Imogen. Or you can, but that won't fix the problem. Again: are you disgusted? Do you feel betrayed? If you're not, why did you say that? If you are, how will you move past it? Do you want to be with someone who never feels like they're good enough for you? Laudna, do you want to be with someone who, no matter what they say, you feel you're holding back?

Early in the campaign, my feeling was that of our current situation, switched - Imogen felt her powers were a burden and a curse and Laudna kept referring to them and to her glowingly. It's just...ships passing in the night, no pun intended here. I hope it's on purpose and whatever comes from it is a good story - and either a tragedy or a happy story could be a good one. But I have a nagging sensation that Laudna wants out but is afraid to say no, and Imogen is afraid to let go, and I honestly don't know if the actors have realized this impasse and how the characters might resolve it, one way or another, besides the insufficient bandaid of a kiss whenever the conversation gets too uncomfortable.

#answered #minxie-the-sabertooth-kitty #really the mission statement of this blog is I am the kid in the Emperor's New Clothes #also i know i keep relying on food metaphors sorry i really like food and feel it's fairly universally accessible to understand #anyway. i am sure some will not believe me here but I think I and most people who agree with me desperately wish we liked this ship #i do not think most people who dislike it are actively hoping it crashes and burns it's just #it feels so fundamentally disconnected and lifeless. at least the conflict shocks it into something vaguely animated #the vindication i was right about this lack of chemistry is still ultimately a consolation prize. i promise you i'd rather be proven wrong #i'd rather be wowed by a brilliant dynamic ship i didn't expect to like. but here we are.#cr spoilers #long post

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bulkhummus · 2 months

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Hey!! I’m curious, in what ways do you think wtnv sucks? I’m not necessarily disagreeing but I can’t think of anything tbh and your tag made me start wondering

Hi!

No piece of media is perfect, and expecting it to be is unfair to the creator, and unrealistic of the consumer. Being able to consciously understand the ways in which something you love also has flaws is a healthy way of engaging with the things you enjoy without succumbing to the all-or-nothing mentality of being able to enjoy, well, anything!

I love wtnv, obviously, it's about 90% of my blog, and I have listened to it for a very long time. I respect the creators (including the actors) for what they have accomplished.

However, there are a few things about wtnv that I as a listener and long-time fan have recognized as, lets call them, potential critiques. Sucks is too strong a word because I’m not focusing on specific instances where they have messed up (and they have, people make mistakes). This isn’t a list where I tell you specific things— but rather I just explain to you some thoughts I have about the show. This is, by no means, a complete or solitary list, or even an ‘accurate’ one. This is just my own opinion and you're welcome to disagree.

Consistency

I do not have the expectation of wtnv having continuity. I never once have, due to the nature of what it is, what it's about, and how it's written. I don't care if facts change. Cecil is an unreliable narrator. Timelines shatter and splinter off regularly in the show. Time doesn't work right for most of the podcast. The Cecil we listen to currently is not the same Cecil we were introduced to. Writers make mistakes when shows have been on for over a decade. etc etc etc. Instead, I use the word consistency.

The show lacks consistency in story telling. This is its strength! WTNV was a podcast made by a small group of people that skyrocketed in popularity very quickly. It was a passion project. It was a bunch of think pieces where the writers got to explore different styles of writing, different characters, and their thoughts and feelings on current events in real life. That’s what it was built on. It was recorded in a coat closet on a shitty mic and then suddenly it became a livelihood with a massive following. So, the show lacks consistency in story telling, which to me has always been the joy of it, because of its freedom to do as it pleases. A lot of ‘plot’ would happen and we’d leave on a cliffhanger, and in classic Night Vale fashion, it’d be like 4 months before you heard about it again. However.

WTNV was introduced as a serial podcast where the only consistency was that they'd upload twice a month. With the introduction of mini-arcs, and later longer arcs (such as STREX, the DOW, or UOWII) the writers introduced the expectation of continuity. The story would build over the course of several episodes and resolve in some type of way. This requires more planning and greater attention to detail than episodes that are one-off or ongoing by the nature of what the show initially was. My issue here is that they have given themselves the problem of continuity given how they write longer arcs now — but they just don’t seem to fact check or communicate with one another when it comes to these arcs that span several episodes or rely upon info from older episodes. Now, the show often feels like its fighting between what it wants to focus on, and how it focuses on it and I am left sensing this inconsistency that I once used to enjoy. Which brings me to my next point.

Understanding A World

WTNV is a show about a fictional town, told by an unreliable narrator in the form of a radio show. When the show started, I felt it understood that very well. New characters were introduced as callers, or interviews on local news, ad reads, and even Cecil playing his voicemail on air. It operates under a VAUGE set of rules (but rules nonetheless) that this was a radio show.

There have been several instances, more recently, where I feel as if the show forgets that Cecil is a radio host and the story is told through his perspective about 90% of the time. It is that exciting 10% where we gain insight to the same stories from different characters giving us new information.

For example, having Carlos and Janet go back and forth at one another in the finale of the UOWII arc completely casts aside Cecil's perspective as the narrator, and as having control over the story. Cecil hated Janet. it would have been more amusing and in character for him to have ad libbed whatever Janet said and only play Carlos' parts -- only for her to burst into his live studio outraged that he wasn't fairly reporting and THEN tell her side of the story after wrestling the mic away from him.

My issue here is that, more recently, it feels as if they forget that operating under rules, or constraints, in story telling, actually helps them be more creative in how information gets delivered to the listener.

I think how they use their patreon needs a massive overhaul too but thats a different post. Which brings me to my next point.

Hand Holding

They are good writers. They are capable of balancing humor and horror in a way that enhances both. I have felt gutted, I have felt hopeful, and I have felt absolutely feral after certain episodes because they have good ideas and can write well!

So it becomes really frustrating when they just tell me a bunch of stuff without it being reflected in the show, or they don’t trust themselves as writers. I get it. Not every episode can be their best, but there have been several instances recently, in moments where it really counts, where I am just being told what's going on instead of it going on. I’m being told why things are happening instead of listening to them happen, and often I feel they forget they are writing something to be performed. They don’t need to explain all of their metaphors or explain what the point of a characters actions are. The audience is not stupid and things don’t always need to be spelled out. Which brings me to my next point.

Writing for an Audience

All creators have to work off of in terms of how well something is doing is fan engagement, especially in a smaller project like this. However, they have an audience that varies in ages of 11-45 given how long this show has been running for. Go to a live show you will see what I mean. How do you write for an audience who is that diverse in age? Should you have to? Is it bad engagement to not think about your audience? Sometimes something a 30 year old understands, a 11 year old may not. Not for any other reason but time and lived experience. Theres things 30 year olds forget about being 11! That’s how it works.

And while this is less of a problem they may have, it’s something I noticed about the reception of different episodes by fans. The second to last live show I went to I had the enjoyment of listening to two 13/14 year olds sitting behind me offering their vastly different perspectives on some recent episodes, especially given the fact that I heard one of them say they had only just started listening after listening to the first 100 episodes summary. Which brings me to my next point.

Duration

Everything I have said previously comes back to the duration of the show. I think its impressive that its been running for over a decade with consistency. And they should! In a perfect world, WTNV would run forever because of how much I love it. I love this show and I don’t want it to end. HOWEVER. If the quality of something begins to degrade because there is not enough time dedicated to it and the creators no longer find it engaging and exciting then I’d want it to come to an end. They’re people. They want to work on new things. I respect that! And I’d be heartbroken if the show faded out or ended in a rushed manner in an unsatisfying way because they decided on a whim they don’t want to make it anymore.

I think it is a disservice to the work, effort and history of the show for them to create a 100 episode summary and tell people to start there. Idc. “But Bulk people might not want to listen to 10 years worth of podcasting—“ Babes the show is 245 episodes long. They’re like 25 min a pop not including ads. It’s a bimonthly show. Buckle up and settle down. The creators should take pride in their work, and how long the shows been on for, and be encouraging people to start from the beginning. Let people experience for the first time what many people fell in love with. Why on EARTH would you tell people to NOT start at the beginning? To me, as a long time fan, it feels like the creators don’t have faith or pride in their work.

I’m not saying they don’t dedicate time to their show of 10 years, because how could I know that, but, when they don’t fact check (because now there is the precedent of continuity, especially with newer fans, because they chose to write more serially) and they tell fans its ok to not start at episode 1, and they are advertising other projects on WTNV episodes where fans call them out for not fact checking and and and— where does that lead me as a fan? It sometimes makes me feel like they don’t care about what they’re making anymore.

I also think that this show has become a means of income for them. And it has. They have a patreon now, they do shows, they sell merch. What was once a passion project for them is now a product. People who pay for something demand a better quality— thats like almost universally true. And people who are newer fans, and don’t understand what podcasting was like a decade ago, who don’t know what WTNV was like a decade ago, don’t have that background knowledge of what the show was built up on and created as (ie. A bunch of experimentations, think pieces, and whacky one-offs as previously mentioned).

Because they’re telling fans not to listen to the first 100 episodes and focusing on more serial story telling. Am I making sense? It’s all connected and I feel like I’m making sense.

Conclusion

I love WTNV but, in my opinion, it was never meant to be what fans often demand it to be, and the creators sometimes have to respond to. What I fell in love with it for is often the things I see people criticize it for. It’s this story that sort of does what it wants, when it wants, because that’s how it started. It’s grown into something else now, which all things do over time, and I just hope they don’t grow it into something it is not if they aren’t careful. The show was is deeply unserious but also really interesting and exciting and chilling and worth the time spent, despite the ways it may be imperfect. Perfectly imperfect, if you will (wink wink).

You don’t have to agree with what I’ve said here, and maybe none of it reads true for you, because I really am just speculating and offering thoughts, and thats fine! I’d never tell someone their viewing of the show is wrong, but I do think it’s good to stop and think about your favorite pieces of media like this. Anyways thats why it sucks or whatever

#wtnv #ask tag #anon

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