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caesium-55 · 2 days

Text

—everything is orange. [ iv ]

pairing: lando norris x kpop idol! reader

summary: a racecar driver who needed a fake girlfriend to dispel rumors and a kpop idol who needed publicity for her song. somewhere in between orange cars and orange sunsets, stands something they're afraid of naming.

note: omg im so sorry for not being online lately. i got a writing part time job now so... i may not be as active as before. hope yall are having a great day! not edited. not beta read.

masterlist.

Everything inside your studio is gray. The walls, the couch, the floor, the instruments. It's the kind of room that will make a sad beige mom over the moon.

But when you open the door and the sight of one Lando Norris greets you, looking devilishly handsome in his dark blue button up shirt and black pants and Nike sneakers with his curls concealed underneath his dark blue bucket hat, the studio suddenly doesn't feel as gray as it usually is.

“Lando?” Your brows rise towards your hairline. Truthfully, he’s one of the last people you expected to see inside HAN Ent’s building, much less outside your studio.

“Hi,” he smiles charmingly at the shock in your voice, showing all teeth and smile lines. “Do you mind if I come in?”

You stammer, still not over your shock, “S-Sure.”

You step aside to grant him space and allow him to enter your magic shop. Lando’s eyes curiously roam around the studio and you close the door behind him, nudging the houseplant further to the wall using your foot to avoid getting tripped on it in the future.

“Take a seat. Please,” you invite, gesturing towards the couch. Lando takes the invitation and sits down. He looks too big on the couch, you note. He has long legs and an athletic build. Perhaps, it’s time to buy a bigger one.

“Nice place,” he compliments.

You want to snort out loud but refrain yourself from doing so.

Lando is saying things out of politeness.

Your studio is shit.

You know that.

It used to be a stock room that was converted into a studio when Yoon PD-nim offered you that deal, that's why the room is graciously small. They soundproofed the walls, painted everything gray, shoved in a few pieces of recording equipment and called it a day.

It's still quite nice of Lando to compliment the place though. You might hate this place but this is your wizard’s tower, your witch’s hut, your magic shop, and you feel pride swell in your chest when someone thinks your little corner is cool, even if you think he’s lying.

“Thanks,” you say sincerely. “How did you know I was…”

“I asked Jinnie,” he says simply.

“Ah,” your tone falls flat.

A moment's pause.

“So this is where you’ve been working?”

You nod. Suddenly, you feel conscious.

Your studio isn't really in the best state right now. When you work in a creative fever, you tend to make a mess. Being messy enhances your creativity. The sprawled papers with lyrics, the empty styro cups of coffee lying around, numerous pens and pencils (you don't even know why you feel the need to bring a lot of them) and rubber erasers, and your snacks. There's a mountain of crumpled paper in your trash can.

“Sorry, the place isn't really….” you trail off, making vague gestures with your hand. “I didn't know you were coming.”

“It's okay,” he chuckles. “I called, you know. And texted. You didn’t return any of it.”

“Oh, my phone’s charging,” you say, beginning to feel bad that you accidentally ignored him. “And my notifs are silent.”

“That explains it.”

“Shouldn't you be resting?” you asked. “You have a flight tomorrow.”

It's currently the 19th. Lando is set to leave for Japan on the 20th. His team wants him in Suzuka by September 20 and not later than that. They already had a field day when Lando announced that he's flying with you. At first, he wanted it to be just you and him. His team wouldn't let him because he can be a PR nightmare if given enough freedom so they let his manager, Kyla, tag along.

You’ve mistaken Kyla as a member of the PR team. Turns out she’s his manager.

“Is it a sin to want to spend a few hours with my girlfriend before I go?” he flutters his eyes innocently. You snorted.

“Fake but okay.”

“I’m being sincere here, girlfriend,” he pushes his lips into a pout. “Did you eat already?”

“No,” you answer.

“Should we grab something together?”

“Should we?” you humor his suggestion. It's been a few hours since you’ve eaten. You’ve skipped both breakfast and lunch.

“I think I can call a restaurant and make a reservation.”

“It's near midnight,” you point out, glancing down at the Rolex decorating his wrist. Isn't he aware of how late it is?

“So?”

“Restaurants are closed by now,” you state.

Lando shrugs.

“I can make the effort of finding those seafood pasta you like.”

Your brows furrow.

“What do you mean like? I never said I like those.”

“But I thought…” Lando blinks. “I’ve read it somewhere…”

“Huh?”

“You're from Jeju, right? You grew up eating seafood so you like seafood and you once said you have a palate for Italian food. I tried…liking the pasta with seafood. I hated it but I ate it anyway.”

Your jaw hangs open at the revelation.

This is single-handedly the sweetest thing someone has ever done to you.

You don't know whether to be touched about the sincerity or to cry because of his idiocy. You can definitely do both but you refuse to do both. You have an image to maintain.

“Didn't I tell you that the company manipulated my public information?” you ask incredulously. “Yes, I was from Jeju but I didn’t eat seafood much. I have a mild allergy—”

“In seafood?” you see his eyes widen into saucers. Oops, you shouldn't have said that. “Wait, you had an allergy attack, didn't you? On those lunch dates we had? Why didn't you tell me so early on?”

“I thought you liked it!” your voice raises slightly, panicked. You're caught. He isn't supposed to know about this.

“I didn't?! I loathe seafood but I ate a few bites because I thought you liked it!”

You blink at him. That is the sweetest while simultaneously the most stupid thing someone has ever done for you. You drag a hand across your face, a groan escaping your mouth and yet you’re smiling. You shake your head at him.

Points for Lando Norris for making you capable of feeling frustrated and another feeling you cannot name.

“We’re idiots.”

There is a stretch of silence before Lando speaks up.

“What do you want to eat? And please tell me the real one.”

You began listing the first three things that appeared inside your brain, “I like…. ramyeon, natto, and tteokbokki.”

You have a palate for convenience store food. Food that you can find in busy night markets. Food that is sold by street vendors. The kind of food that tastes like absolute shit if cold but tastes like home if microwaved into the right amount of temperature. If you venture in your imagination hard enough, you can taste your mother’s cooking after a few bites. But you don't tell Lando that.

“We can eat that.”

You raise a brow.

“The ramen, the chicken, and the tteokdokdok.”

“Tteokbokki,” you correct him gently.

“Tteoktokki,” he repeats.

“Tteok.”

“Bokki.”

“Tteokbokki.”

“Tteokdokki.”

You shake your head, “Tteok-Bo-Kki.”

“Tteok-Bo-Kki.”

You snap your fingers, nodding in approval, “Better.”

“I literally said the same thing.”

“You didn't.”

“Where will we eat this tteokbokki?” He says the tteokbokki slowly, careful with his pronunciation.

“There are night markets nearby,” you tell him. “It’s crowded though. I know a good convenience store that’s a good drive away. It’s usually empty. Do you go to convenience stores?”

You suddenly feel stupid for asking.

Do multi-millionaires like Lando Norris go to convenience stores? It’ll make much more sense if he books restaurants or employs a private chef to cook for him at home. Do they even have a palate for instant food? What do rich people snack on? You don't know. You're not rich. Even after becoming famous, you’re still not rich enough to live the life of luxury.

This just highlights the difference of the worlds you and Lando live in.

“I do. Just not frequently,” he shrugs. “We can go to the convenience store if you want. I don't mind.”

“No, it’s fine. We can eat anywhere you want. Jinnie might have a few hotel restaurants in mind.”

“But do you want to eat in hotel restaurants?”

His question makes you pause and Lando immediately takes your hesitation as a no.

“We can eat anything you want to eat. This is your place anyway. Show me around.”

You bite your lower lip as you contemplate. Should you or should you not? That is the question.

When your eyes drag themselves back to Lando’s face, you see that he’s already looking at you intently as he awaits your answer patiently. You want to shrink back at the intensity of his gaze.

“Well then, do you want to go on a convenience store date with me, boyfriend?”

Despite the hesitation he’s displayed earlier, Lando grins at your offer.

You take Lando to your favorite place in all of South Korea. Google Maps says it's a three hour drive away. You arrive there in two hours and a half.

Maybe it's a sign to change careers.

You used your Jeep Wrangler. Lando offered to drive but you shook your head and hopped on the driver’s seat, him taking the passenger seat.

You won't allow anyone to drive your car. It's a rule of yours.

The last time you allowed someone to drive your car, your Hyundai jumped over a sewage canal. Lando might be a professional race car driver and that alone spoke multitudes of his driving skills, but you're so traumatized with the incident with your Hyundai that you physically can't allow anyone, professional driver or not, to handle the steering wheel of any other cars you own.

Cars are expensive. You can't buy another car. You’ll bawl when you see the money departing your bank account.

You palm the steering-wheel with your right hand. Your left hand lays flat on the back of the passenger seat, behind Lando’s head. Your upper body is rotated towards the back, full focus activated as you reverse the car in expert ease. Lando is observing you, you can tell. You can feel his eyes burning holes in your side profile.

“You okay?” You ask Lando. The man has gone uncharacteristically silent when you’ve started reversing the car. You hear Lando let out a breath. Almost shakily. You cannot tell for sure.

“Yeah,” his voice breaks like a boy undergoing puberty and you have to thin your lips into a line to prevent yourself from laughing. “Nice parking skills.”

“Thanks,” you say nonchalantly. “You sure you're okay though?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” you see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he rubs his throat. “I think the seatbelt’s a little too tight.”

Once the car’s perfectly parked, you kill the engine and exit the car. Lando follows suit.

“I don't know why you have to drive for almost three hours just to visit this place,” Lando gestures to the surroundings. “There's nothing here.”

“Exactly,” you say. “Come on, boyfriend.”

You pat his shoulder and lead the way. A bell chimes loudly as you push the door open. You step inside, the British racer only a few steps behind you. You tug down your mask.

“What's this place?” Lando questions.

“24-hour convenience store,” you answer. “But no staff.”

“No staff?” he asks. “So self service?”

“Ah yes, that’s the word. Self service,” You say. “Quite nice, right? We have complete privacy and good food. Two best things in the world.”

“Careful. Your introvert is showing.”

You snort, “First time coming to a place like this?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “No staff? Does nobody attempt to steal things?”

You shrug, “Probably not. Ramen is not worth going to jail for.”

“This shop will make a million dollar loss in an hour if it's in another country,” Lando says, his nose wrinkling. “Like in the UK or US or something.”

You beckon Lando to follow you through the aisles, “This way.”

“You even memorize the places of things,” he comments. “You come here often?”

You hum a yes. You stop in front of the freezer and open it, pulling out two plastic cups.

Lando’s forehead creases, “Just ice?”

“This is an ice cup,” you explain.

“Are we going to wait for the ice to melt before drinking it or….”

You stare at him incredulously before promptly bursting out in laughter.

“What's funny?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“Nothing, sorry,” you clear your throat. You don't know why you find that funny. Your humor is broken. “They sell pouches of juice or coffee and you pour it into the cup.”

Lando’s head tilts. He looks like a confused baby owl.

“Here, I’ll show you,” you walk up to a nearby shelf and grab a Kuromi pouch. It's peach-flavored. “This. You pour it here.”

You gesture to the ice cup. Lando’s mouth forms a circle in realization.

“Cool.”

“There are a lot of flavors,” you add, gesturing to the shelf. “Peach, apple, mango, strawberry, orange…”

You read out the flavors for Lando because you know he can't read Hangul. Lando wordlessly picks a grapefruit-flavored pouch. You nod.

“Good choice. Oh wait, we forgot to get a basket. Can you?”

Lando nods and leaves. When he comes back, now with a yellow basket, the two of you continue to browse down the entire store. You explain each of the food. He said no to most of them. Lando is a picky eater, you learn.

The two of you fill the basket near to the brim. You pay for each item, even though Lando insisted that he do it, and you occupy the table that faces that floor-to-ceiling glass window, overlooking the darkness of the night outside.

“Here,” you hand him a plastic fork. Lando accepts it, his brows furrowed. “You were struggling with the chopsticks.”

A shy smile makes its way to his face, “Sorry.”

You wave your hand as if to say it's no problem and plop down on the chair beside him. Lando digs in with his Buldak Samyang carbonara while you stir your Yoppoki Tteokbokki with yours before taking your first bite. You immediately let out a moan of pleasure.

“Is it delicious?” he asked.

“Very.”

You eat until your cheeks fill, chewing slowly.

“Oh wait, you should post something.”

“Now?”

“You took pictures of me earlier, right?” you know he did. He tried to be slick about it but you’d know if someone is taking a picture of you. “Put it on your story.”

“And delete it?”

“No. The world already knows we're dating anyway. Well, fake dating.”

Lando pulls out his phone and shows you the pictures in his gallery. There are aare a total of four pictures. Three are blurry. The other one is blocked by his finger.

“That one is good.”

“What do you mean good? It's blurry.”

“Blurry is an aesthetic.”

Lando shakes his head but opens his Instagram and begins to edit the photo you’ve chosen, “Help me with the caption?”

“I’m not good with them.”

“Me neither.”

“Your first caption was pretty good.”

“You think so?” he sounds hopeful.

You shrug your shoulders.

“Just say something like ‘her’ then put a period.”

That's the limit of your creative powers for the day.

Lando nods and begins typing. He’s typing quite long for a word with three letters and a single punctuation mark. He shows you the caption.

Your brows furrow.

He laughs, “I’m funny.”

“You’re really not,” you shake your head. “Put it in your drafts.”

“So I’m not posting it now?”

“You post it after we leave the place,” you say. “So we’ll be gone by the time the fans see it and decide they’ll come here.”

“That's very smart.”

“That's not being smart. That’s just common sense,” you state flatly.

“You know, I always thought you'd be a cold person.”

You raise a brow, not entirely sure if you're understanding him correctly. Cold is an adjective. It's used to describe temperature. You're uncertain if it can be applied to use as an adjective to describe a person.

Lando must have sensed your confusion that he adds, “Ice queen.”

Oh.

Yeah.

Okay. You understand it now.

“You used to look so cold and cool,” Lando says. “Ice queen. But also an IDGAF attitude. Very intimidating.”

You have no idea what IDGAF means but you nod your head and act like you understand him anyway. You make a mental note to search it up on the internet later.

“But you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you echo.

“You’re actually pretty sweet,” he adds.

“I’m trying to be kind.”

“You don't have to try. You already are.”

“The companies make us act sometimes.”

“What?”

“Like, before debut,” you begin. “There are companies that assign certain images to their idols. They give them parts to play like directors do to actors in movies. Like, oh, you look like this kind of person so you have to act like this kind of person. They take a look at your visuals and decide what role you’ll have. They took one look at my face and told me that I have to be a strict and serious person who is scary and cold and unbothered. I didn't want to do it because I tend to smile really easily before and I just wanted to have a lot of friends, you know?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“When you’re intimidating, you tend to not have a lot of them. Despite that, I followed the role. Many praised me for it and others just….well, they didn't like it. The company was happy, though. They told me I was good at acting. But it's just…sad that the person I am on the screen is not real.”

“Yeah, that's honestly sad. I can't imagine doing that for my team. I’ll suck at it. Imagine me cold and serious,” Lando makes a serious face but he ends up doing a The Rock Smoulder. You have to stop yourself from laughing out loud by thinning your lips and twisting it.

“You're doing it, though. For the team. This whole fake dating thing,” you gesture to yourselves.

Lando mutters something under his breath while stroking his chin. You don't catch it.

“Hm?”

“Nothing. I think your eyes are pretty.”

He's changing the subject. He does it so swiftly, too.

“I know, I thank my mother every day for it,” you joke and Lando chuckles softly. “But don't be jealous, you have pretty eyes yourself.”

He turns into a lovely shade of pink. You can see it. You don't speak of it.

“It changes colors sometimes,” you continue, pointing at your eyes. “Like, it’s kind of gray in the dark. But if the sun shines on it, it has three colors.”

“You stare at my eyes a lot, do you?”

“Well, if a certain thing is pretty, you can't help but stare, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess that's why I stare at you a lot, too.”

You laugh, the sound airy, shaking your head. What a flirt. The cute kind.

“I’m quite the head turner, aren't I?”

“You are,” he agrees seriously.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smirks, confident.

“Careful, you might fall for me, fake girlfriend,” he says cheekily. You have the desire to shatter his ego so you did.

“You're handsome but you're not my type.”

His smirk falters. You give a chortle.

“What's your type then?” he asks, leaning slightly forward. His eyes reflect anticipation.

You fall into a momentary thoughtful silence, “For starters, attractive men who can drive very fast cars. With a racing license this time. Not like me.”

Lando smiles at your light attempt at a joke. Good to know that he finds the dark humor surrounding your career-ending scandal funny.

“I am an attractive man,” he gestures to his face. “With a priceless face and I drive a very fast car. Formula one or sports cars. Oh and would you look at that? I have a racing license and a regular driving license.”

“You are an attractive man,” you agree. “But again, not my type.”

Lando dramatically puts his hand against his chest, right above where his heart lies and acts like you just shot him dead on the spot.

“Hmm, what else? Ah, plays golf,” you list another trait of your ideal man.

“I play golf,” he crosses his arms, leans back against the back of his seat, and lifts his hips a little as he adjusts his sitting position on the chair, manspreading a little. This is one of the subtle things men do that women cannot help but find attractive. You’re also a woman. Of course, you find that attractive.

You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. Lando laughs at you.

“A few years older than me.”

When Lando opens his mouth, you cut him off, holding up a finger, “I’m older than you.”

By months only but still.

“In the standards of your fake birthday, I am older than you.”

You huff, shaking your head. He is right, to some degree. The world thinks he is older than you because HAN Entertainment decided to lie about your birthday.

“Looks good in red.”

“You know, orange is a mixture of red and yellow. Technically, it's still red. So I look good in red. One plus one equals two. I am connecting shit.”

He raises two index fingers in the air and connects them together to put further emphasis on the words he imparted in a sage-like manner.

“You're not connecting anything.”

“Hell yeah, I am. I am so smart, I should just be McLaren’s chief strategist. Maybe then I can finally get my first win.”

You cannot help but raise an amused brow.

“Fine, if you're so smart Mr. Strategist, what's plan A to your victory?”

His answer comes immediately, no hesitation and he utters it with so much confidence in his chest: “Sneak into Red Bull and steal their car.”

You abruptly burst out laughing, the sound filling up the entire convenience store. You cannot hold it in anymore. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself down.

You don't laugh pretty. You're very much aware of that. You sound like a dolphin when you do. But Lando is so funny that you forget to feel conscious of the weird sound that leaves your mouth for a whole five seconds before you remember to compose yourself and stop.

“You don't have to cover your mouth when you laugh, you know?” he says. “Or try to stop yourself from laughing. Just laugh if you want.”

You give him a look. Why is he turning serious all of a sudden?

“Wait, red?” Lando does a double take once you’ve composed yourself. “Don’t tell me your ideal type is….”

His forehead creases. You nod.

He says, “Carlos?!” the same time you say, “It’s Kim Mingyu.” How did he even come to that conclusion?

Oh wait. Red. Older than you. Drives fast cars. Racing license. Makes sense.

You blink at each other.

“Who the hell is Kim Mingyu?”

“You don't know Kim Mingyu?” you pull out your phone, open Google Photos, and search for the folder named: 민규❤️❤️❤️. The folder contains 7659 photos of Kim Mingyu.

“Fake boyfriend, let me introduce you to my boyfriend, Kim Mingyu,” you show your favorite Mingyu photo.

The one where he’s wearing a black fitted shirt, his cheek against the back of his hand, and the veins in his arms bulging. He’s serving major boyfriend vibes.

Lando rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t look that good.”

“No, Lando, you are not seeing it,” you hold the phone closer to his face.

“I am seeing it and I am saying he’s not good looking.”

“Lies.”

“I'm not lying.”

“It's Kim Mingyu.”

“And?”

You pull a face, retracting your phone. “Come on, he’s quite good looking. And tall. Very tall.”

You once have to stand beside him in an ending ceremony in Inkigayo. You barely even come up to his chest.

“I’m tall.”

“You’re shorter than him.”

“You're killing me here.”

You chuckle. You pat his shoulder in faux sympathy.

“There, there. That's okay. You're my boyfriend anyway. Don't be jealous.”

“Damn right, I am.”

You snort.

“But you have to stan Seventeen though. After your race in Suzuka, we’ll try to binge GoSe.”

When you’re too full to finish the rest of your tteokbokki, you drag Lando outside the convenience store.

“Sand?” he questions.

“Sand,” you state.

“There's sand in my shoes,” Lando complains.

“Take it off and like,” you make the motion of flipping your shoes upside down to remove the sand inside. He does as you’ve told him but he seems to be not fully satisfied with it. There is still sand inside his shoe.

“This won't do,” he says. “I should have brought flip flops.”

“Let's go barefoot,” you kick off your shoes and neatly place them on the foot of a nearby coconut tree. You motion for Lando to do the same, but you’re met with hesitance.

“What if someone steals them?”

It's a valid concern to have, you suppose. You look around you. Darkness is all that can be perceived.

“Who’d steal them? Cheonyeogwisin?”

“I don't even know what that is.”

“Just leave the shoes here, Lando.”

The sand feels good underneath your feet. A bit ticklish. A little too familiar. You turn on the flashlight of your phone and jog up to the shore.

“Wait for me!” you hear Lando scream from behind you.

“Palli!” you yell back, voice almost drowning in the wind.

“I am palli-ing!”

You roll your pants up to your knees and soak your feet in the cold waves, shivering. You turn around just as Lando body slams you and the two of you fall into the ice-cold waves. Your jaw comes slack, eyes wide. The two of you are now drenched from head to toe.

Lando bashfully smiles, “Sorry.”

“Lando!” you splash him in his face.

Lively shrieks fill the silent night sky. The stars twinkle with mirth at the two of you, the line between fake and real blurring.

Lando flies out just four hours after you arrive in Seoul proper. You feel bad for bringing him somewhere far and not giving him enough hours to rest. Then, he tells you: "It's one of the best nights I've ever had."

He sounds so sincere that you have to stop yourself from blushing red.

In the schedule Jinnie gave you, you are only required to make an appearance in the race proper on the 24th. You have the 20th, 21st, and 22nd to work on your single before having to fly out on the 23rd. Regardless, you fly to Japan on the 21st with Jinnie in tow, two days earlier than your original schedule.

Jinnie doesn't question nor protest against your obvious disobedience on the appointed schedule. You're glad she didn't.

"Lando?" you question after seeing the man standing behind your hotel door. It's nearly twelve and you've just checked in the hotel with Jinnie. "What are you..."

"Just checking in," he smiles. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Don't you have a race tomorrow?" Despite your question, you sidestep to let him inside your hotel room. "You should be resting."

"That's okay. I'm well rested. Are you going to watch the FP1 tomorrow?"

You shake your head, "I'm going to work on my song."

"Oh," his face falls. "Why'd you fly in early then?"

You shrug.

Honestly, you don't know either.

It's an act based purely on impulse. Not your finest moments.

"Maybe I can watch?" you say. "I'm not really sure."

You don't want to get mobbed again.

ORACLE has a rather large fanbase in Japan. You know there will be curious fans who'll await your appearance in the race. And while you're glad that your PR relationship with Lando is receiving the right type of attention from the public, you still hate having this much attention on you.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Lando says.

"I'll go," you decide with finality. "I mean this is why we're doing this in the first place, right? Make people believe that we're real."

Lando's lips form a line.

"I suppose."

"Then, I'll be there."

The song making can wait.

Once again, Jinnie takes charge in deciding your clothing. You’ve long since given up on protesting or even suggesting your ideas. You have to get used to it again. Wearing whatever is given to you like a doll. After all, you are to return to the stage of KPop again.

Today’s WAG OOTD is a Miu Miu black dress, a black leather jacket, and Gianvito Rossi strappy sandals. Nothing too impressive. It's just the free practice sessions after all.

Jinnie hands you the McLaren ball cap and you grimace.

“How's the song coming up?”

“I’ve been trying to combine my demos and see how it sounds,” you reply. “But I have a concept in mind and I jotted down a few phrases for the lyrics.”

“I got an email from Yoon PD-nim today. He’s strongly suggesting you use a racing concept for your single.”

Strongly suggesting.

Translation: commanding.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Fuck it.

He’s really going to use the scandal and hope it’ll make you rise from the ashes like a phoenix reborn. The problem is that you're far from a phoenix. You’re human. As disappointing that may be but that is the cold truth. You're uncertain how people will react if you use a racing concept. You cannot afford to risk this over something like this.

You have one chance. And if KNetz reacts badly on your song and your MV, you’re never going to have another chance to go back on stage, to go back home.

Yoon PD-nim is too thoughtless at times. You want to shake him.

Jinnie drives you to the paddock and drops you to the parking lot. You expect that you’ll have to find your way to the garage again alone. Your knees are trembling as you step out of the car.

To your surprise, a staff member of the McLaren team—you assume he works for the team because of the orange polo shirt—approaches you as you exit the car.

“[Name]?”

“Hi,” you offer a polite smile.

“I’m Rick, I’m one of Lando’s mechanics, pleasure to meet you,” he introduces.

“Pleasure is all mine, Sir,” you say, dipping your chin into a small bow.

“Come this way,” he beckons. You follow him.

“Did Lando ask you to pick me up?”

“Well, he insisted on picking you up but the race was about to start so we had to force him to stay put in the livery and he wouldn't stay put until we said we’ll pick you up. Said people might flock over you and you don't like it when it happens.”

Your heart warms.

“That's very thoughtful of him. And sweet.”

“That's Lando Norris for you,” he says. “He’s always treating all the people he’s working with kindly. He only has to be polite but he even exerts effort in helping and making our work easier.”

“That's true,” you agree. “I can attest to that, as his fake girlfriend. He only has to treat me well when there's a camera but he’s even going as far as offering friendship.”

The rest of the walk to McLaren was peaceful. Or at least as peaceful as you hope it can be.

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagines #fluff #fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #kpop idol! reader

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acourtofthought · 2 days

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I like the potential of elucien but they currently have no chemistry. How do you think Sarah will go about their story?

For Elucien it's really as simple as forced proximity. Put them in a situation where they're forced to spend "two weeks alone together" (quote from ACOMAF) and I'm 100% certain that we're going to see exactly why SJM mated them. Heck, give me a day with them alone together, no sisters hovering near by, Elain having no choice but to speak directly too him without the heavy shadow of recent loss hovering over it and we'll see it.

I think some in the fandom are confusing Elain's physical attraction to Az as proof that she has chemistry with him but when physical attraction is used to build romantic chemistry between characters it will always result in a shallow love story. Lucien did find Elain to be the most beautiful female he'd ever seen so I'm not saying attraction can't be there but when you have characters giving into that attraction before something deeper has been established, true chemistry is going to fall flat. Having Az tell us he's avoided Elain for a year while she's still recovering from trauma doesn't call to mind that he's someone she was able to lean on, it doesn't make me believe that he feels anything for her because she could have used his friendship during that time (since she wasn't asking for distance) but he chose to stay away.

It calls to mind desperately crushing on someone in high school, where you watch them from afar, hoping for the day you can be together, and then finally you get your wish but you realize you actually don't know this person at all. You're infatuated with the idea of them rather than the real them.

I'm not saying Elain and Lucien have any sort of wild on page chemistry right now but it was kind of difficult for there to be any while she was mourning the loss of her humanity and Graysen. And though there was a little bit of hope that she was ready to move past that by the end of ACOWAR, she regressed in the novella Likewise was zero chemistry on page between Nesta and Cassian in ACOFAS, when she chose to push him away after the war.

Characters can't have chemistry when they are ignoring their possible love interest, you actually have to see them talking.

As far as how Sarah will go about their story, I think there are a few options.

Right now we have already had Elain volunteering to help with the Trove, Rhys saying that Elain is capable of more than they've given her credit for, that gardening results in something pretty but involves one getting their hands dirty along the way, and Elain saying she'll do whatever is needed.

The options are limitless because of the above.

The issues they currently face are:

Beron allying with Koschei and setting his sights on Spring.

The NC reminding us that they need Springs army as an ally but that Tamlin is even worse after the announcement of Feyre's pregnancy.

Koschei preparing to call Vassa back.

Koschei trying to get his hands on the Trove to free himself so he might rule their world.

The NC could decide they need to utilize Elain's Seer powers and send her to Day Court to help her train her powers. They don't seem very knowledgeable on Seers so Helion's library's might be the best place for her to learn how to train her powers.

The could decide a marriage alliance between themselves and other courts might benefit them and Elain could volunteer to marry Lucien because she's so over the concept of love and men after Graysen and Az's rejection that she's decided she'll simply focus on helping the courts rather than marrying for love (the concept was introduced in SF after all and SJM carried it out an arranged marriage trope in HOFAS).

They could send Elain as an emissary "spy" to the Spring Court. Not in the shadows or anything, just acting as their courtier, where she would gather information on the situation there, to be sure Lucien's reporting has been unbiased.

Elain could end up dreaming of the drums of Calanmai and find herself pulled to Spring on her own.

They could send Elain to the continent to retrieve Mor since Feysands daemati range does not work that far and have Lucien accompany her.

Or something SJM imagines up! I don't think any of us guessed how Nessian would end up being forced together in SF.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra

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buddiebeginz · 1 day

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I’ve made posts about this before but I’m gonna keep on about it. Please if you love Buddie (when you have time) you need to be posting about them on every social media platform there is. Also liking and commenting on posts especially ones that are on official 911 accounts like the main ABC one or the actors or when interviews come out.

If ABC posts about Buck/Eddie or Ryan and Oliver you need to remind them in the comments we’re rooting for Buddie. I know Buddie fandom is bigger and louder than B/T fans but I keep seeing them all over. There's no reason that pairing with two eps of build up are getting anywhere near the level of attention as Buddie does.

I’m not saying as fans we have all this power over what is going to happen on the show but we have some sway. It’s part of how bi Buck has even happened. So us being so vocal and supportive of Buddie all these years and even more now while the story is still unfolding matters.

I don't want Tim or anyone else getting the impression that we want T*mmy sticking around any longer than necessary at least not as a love interest.

I know there's been a lot of talk about how the show needs take their time and build Buddie's story if they're going canon and I know some want Buck to be with T*mmy so Buddie can have that slow burn towards getting together. While I do think it's important that Buddie's story is not rushed and handled with care that fact is we really have no idea how many seasons the show even has. I wish some of you would realize we are not living in the golden age of tv anymore. We are living during a time when tv shows get canceled even when they are successful just as a way for networks to cut costs. It's why Fox canceled 911 before it was moved to ABC.

So as much as I do want the show take all the time in the world with Buddie I also want us to actually get to see them go canon. I also feel like we've been in a slow burn with them for six years especially those of us who have watched the show for its entire run. I want to see the show make some progression in moving Buddie's story further along. I'm not saying I want them to be in a relationship tomorrow, absolutely not. But I do think that moving into season 8 I'd like the show to have given us some kind of canon sign that both men feel something for each other beyond friendship. We know they do but I mean something that can't be taken any other way like say an almost kiss at the wedding for example. I'd also like for Eddie to be dealing with his own sexuality storyline by next season.

Back to T*mmy in all honesty the main reason I don't want to see him sticking around much longer is because of his fans. I'm tired of just how much the B/T fans have taken over our fandom. All the tags even ones on other social media platforms are being overrun by B/T and worse by negativity towards Buddie and Eddie and the complete minimizing of the importance of Buddie going canon. I'm glad that T*mmy has helped Buck with his bi awakening but he is so clearly not meant to be an endgame love interest. I just want to see him gone or have the storyline at least move on to where if he's still on the show it's as a friend for Buck, which I personally think he needs more than a relationship right now. Someone who is queer who can help him navigate this newly discovered part of himself.

#buddie #911!

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dairy-farmer · 3 days

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Okay but consider? Has Tim ever seen Ra's post-Critical Injury Lazurus Dip? Like not "oooh, I am back to my sexy Dilf-y glory~" but FULL ON "I have been Hard Reset back to the Prime Of My Life(tm), which statistically is early 20s, and am now a Young and Hot prowling bad boy. With no Grey in my hair and a SLIGHLTY higher voice, meaning while I sound familiar, you can't instantly place it like you usually could."

THAT sort of Hard Reset.

Bet he hasn't.

Bet he'd have an even HARDER time recognizing Ra's in a Masquerade mask. If Ra's had a smooth, freshly shaven, face. I mean... it's not like Ra's an assassin cult leader or anything. Him? Knowing how to DISGUISE himself? When in his centuries of life would he have had time to learn THAT?

So there Ra's is. Looking rich, dangerous, and slutty. As one does. Tight black pants, loose poet shirt, gold and gems dripping like honey down his skin. The very PICTURE of a WEALTHY young trouble maker. Blending in with all these wealthy fools, up too no good, some of them far more then others.

That's why the Bats are here.

For Intel.

But of COURSE, Brucie Wayne has aged out of this sort of scene. Tut tut. And his waste of a grandson is just a touch too young. A shame. So it's the Detective and a few others, leading the charge. But... ah, SUCH a big building! And can the Wayne's afford to be seen at such a disreputable event?

Of course not.

So they're in disguise. Layers upon layers, Detective. Masks upon masks. Delightful~

Ra's gets to watch Tim work the room. Prowl in magnificent heels. Dodge covetous hands so casually it seems by accident. Extract information people have DIED to protect. Blonde, tonight. He looks better with hair like the night.

Ra's smiles like a wolf.

And begins to hunt his prey though a sea of masks.

Which is how Tim meets a VERY rougish, tall, and delightfully muscled heir too...something. It's kinda obvious, given all the jewelry. Swordsmen too, from what he can feel of those INTERESTING and calloused hands. Tim knows he should focus... but...

Mystery Hot Guy is REALLY forward. Clearly in to him. And it's not like he's gotta marry the guy.

Did he mention the DELIGHTFUL rumble? His voice has a low rumbling quality to it, when he leans in close so he can be heard over the music. His hands are hot and gripping in that "just a bit too tight but not TOO too tight" sorta way? So yeah... he's gonna... uuuuh, go... "question so informants" real quick. Get back to you guys later!

Don't wait up!

And Ra's? Knows the chance of this working more then once is close to zero. So it has to be LEGENDARY. Life changing. Dick so good it ruins the Detective's LIFE. He's got to make sure the next time they meet, the Detective wants to kill him AND fuck him in equal measure.

After all, the Bats have a "no kill rule". Oh dear, Detective. Really only leaves you one option, then, doesn't it?

So Ra's goes to absolute TOWN on Tim. Sinks down to his knees and eats him out til his legs won't hold him. Carries him to the bed to the guestroom they're about to absolutely DEFILE, too use far too clever fingers, to stoke that burning NEED back up. Too stretch and tease, as his mouth worships that chest. That neck. That clever, clever mouth.

Runs his free hand along magnificent skin, wishes he could grip hair like the finest ink as he savors Timothy's mouth. It all feels decadent. Ra's is patient. Aaaand, there, Tim rocking against his hand has turned for lazy pleasure (savoring the glow of a good orgasm) to demanding.

His hands, his kisses, are growing hungrier. Commanding Ra's to give him what he needs. Spoil him like a pampered little prince. Either worship and adore him, or he will find someone else who SHALL. How can Ra's refuse? He'd be a fool too.

A fool not to suck and bite branding little marks upon that magnificent skin. A fool not to hike up those powerful hips a grind and tease with his length, until Timothy's sharp little nails dig into his flesh in warning. A gods forsaken incompetent, to NOT sink into that magnificent heat, pressed so close he can hear that breath taking little gasp of pleasure, as the thickness of himself presses wider and deeper then any BOY the Detective as ever taken.

Ra's AL Ghul is no fool.

But he IS a VERY giving lover.

Especially when he has something to gain from it. And oh, how it is a struggle not show the victory on his face. It would not do, to give the game away at the last moment. He knows better. So he moves his hips just so. Rolling at just the right angle. To grind with in as he thrusts, to grind against as he moves, his body angled just right to tease the Detective's clit.

Strong, calloused hands teasing what feels like EVERYWHERE. That deep rumbling voice monologing a god damned speech on how good Tim's body feels, how perfect he is, how sexy. That cock hitting everything over an over in a way marksmen would WEEP with jealousy at. Tim is pretty sure his brain is melting. Hook up too good, fuck why he came here actually. The others can handle it.

Will he later admit he fucked up? Probably. But that's when he gets the ability to reason again. Right NOW all he can think is a series of frantic porno noises and variations of the word "More". Turns out fumbling around with your teammates is NOT actually a good frame of reference for "what is Sex and how good does it feel?".

Tim doesn't even notice, two position changes and several orgasms later, when he loses his wig. His face is buried in Mystery Hook Up's shoulder, drooling and clinging, as he's worked up and down that mind melting cock like a toy. All that HE registers is that it feels nice to have that stuffy thing off and fingers running through his hair.

His family, though? Freaking out. Tim left with an "informant" (their ASS) and never showed back up. They've all HAD the traumatizing Honeypot Talk from Bruce. They KNOW Femme Fatales are a thing. Homme Fatales are a thing! Did someone send a sexy assassin after Tim!?

Soooooorta.

Dick, powered by the sheer force of Brotherly Murder-Panic and 👌close to showing the world why he and FUCKING DEATHSTROKE have a weird decade long "Thing(tm)" going, kicks down the door to waaaay too many random hook ups... until he eventually find the RIGHT hook up.

Where Timmy ain't got no bones. He be truely, magnificently, well fucked and boneless. A cooked noodle. Orgasm machine ran dry and he can see the shrimp color, Captain. He's cuddling a sex god and actively plotting to tattoo his phone number somewhere on this guy's body. Who CARES where he lives. Tim will MAKE it work. How you feel about breakfast?

Ra's is the exact flavour of Lounging Smug Bastard you imagine.

It's not even smirking "pleased with himself" territory anymore. It's full on "if a tiger were turned into a human, got revenge on the bastard who did it, and was lounging around feeling pleased with itself covered in blood" grinning. Because NOW, he has won.

Dick is, of course, going to break every bone in this Mystery Bastard's body. Jason. Hold him.

Which... just as Tim is about to throw a lamp in defense of his new Sex... something, Robin kicks the window open because "fuck it, I'm helping. Timothy may be an idiot. But he's OUR idiot and you've clearly seduced him with some sort of evil demonic sex magic, you fiend, time to fight." Etc etc.

Only then Hot Hook Up takes of his mask.

He.... He looks a LOT like Damian. A concerning amount. Like... if you were to say, take away the Wayne traits, he'd be almost identical.

Tim is ALSO not a fool.

That grin is very familiar. Those EYES are a shade he knows INCREDIBLY damn well. And oh sweet fuck on a stick he boned Ra's AL Ghul.

And it was amazing.

DAMN IT!!!

Does Tim absolutely HATE that Ra's was right? That Tim SHOULD consider sleeping with him? Yes. Is Tim going to do it again? According to the flashcard forcefully handed to him by his Father, ahem, "No. We do not sleep with Supervillians. We have self control." So... noooooooo, of course not. He would NEVER. Don't be absurd.

(Yes.)

-🐼🐼🐼

tim knows he shouldnt but also knows bruce has no moral highground to say 'dont sleep with supervillains 😭

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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wolfscarr · 24 hours

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Helluva Broken Narrative and the most useless character..

Disclaimer: Not saying you can't enjoy this show folks. Enjoy it all you want, this is just a rant about the lack of a cohesive narrative!

I really was completely dead on posting, but I just can't get this out of my head.

I feel people should be acknowledging this far more than it has been, this is extremely important. This goes beyond just episode pacing, this goes beyond the characters....this is something that without it? There is no real show, which is....

Helluva Boss has a BROKEN NARRATIVE.

Some fans wanna claim it has this 'complex' writing and I'm sitting here going like "really? Where?"

It doesn't sorry and know why? Because Season 2 of this show, basically broke the narrative that Season 1 was building.

These past posts of mine, will show you why the narrative is broken.

Now can they continue on with the story they are telling? Yes of course they can, but it won't fix the fact that it's not coherent to Season 1, that it's not needed.

Wanna know who the most useless character in the show is now? If you guessed Stolas, you're correct! In the meaning of making Stolas this guy who did nothing wrong and who's sad....they took away his character purpose.

Stolas has ZERO purpose being within the show now, given how things have played out.

But you might say

"Well he's needed to give Blitz the Crystal and end the deal!"

Except....no, he wasn't. They could have just delivered the crystal to I.M.P. They have Blitz’ number, just call him, get a servant to send it etc.

Remembering my posts above, where you can have I.M.P. killing in Hell as a Season 1 thing?

Maybe they're just getting started with their company? So Blitz wants to supplement with killing in Hell by killing those up top so he goes to see about getting an Asmodean Crystal?

See let's backtrack here folks, the episode Oops it was mainly about Blitz and Fizz reconciling right? Which they do at the end of the episode. Now follow this, if we take into account the above, Blitz' dialogue could be.

Blitz: "Fizz look, I know what happened to you was horrible. I don't...expect you to forgive me, but I'm struggling to support myself, my daughter and my employees with my company. I....if you can just think on it, perhaps I could get one of those Asmodean Crystals?"

The scene ends and Fizz goes back to Ozzie, while along the way he's thinking about Blitz' words and how he was saved by him where in the end, Fizz agrees to send Blitz a Crystal because he's earned it from saving his very life.

Or here's another scenario, Blitz has a Crystal from the start(which he took from Verosika when they were dating), but as things get far more hectic up on Earth with more dangers. The Crystal ends up shattering after I.M.P. gets back to Hell after a job, thus Blitz goes to actually confront his past and reconcile with Fizz in order to try and get a new one.

See how easy it is now, to just remove Stolas entirely? They took away a character's purpose of being in the show....that to me, is completely disappointing. Characters, especially those that are suppose to be IMPORTANT, should have a purpose...without that? You may as well just delete them entirely.

Blitz could have had 2 whole Seasons with relating to the past and those that he hurt, that he TRULY hurt(Verosika, Fizz and Barbie) that would actually matter to him as a character. But instead, all these characters are instead shoved to the wayside, for a character who doesn't matter anymore and only actually matters because the writing is FORCING him to matter.

You can write the narrative in so many different ways with what Season 2 gives us, that completely destroys what Season 1 told us. Are we now expected to just....IGNORE AN ENTIRE SEASON?

They can do this whole "sad Stolas is sad and Blitz is hurt and Stolas is going to give him a crystal." Thing all the way to 'try' and fix things, but it'll fix nothing....because the deal between them was retroactively made completely pointless.

The show will continue obviously, but in the back of the minds....it will be a broken narrative and Season 1 is basically buried 6 feet under. As a writer, this really annoys me....because they had how long between Seasons to nail this down? How long have we all waited just in-between episodes? This shouldn't have happened.

Yes, is storytelling hard? Obviously, none of my stories are perfect....but at least the narrative is coherent from beginning to end.

Anyway...I just...had to get this out of my head, because it was really frustrating and I want it to be acknowledged more. The narrative is important folks, if it's broken...that's not a good thing.

I'm still watching this show....if only because I'm knee deep in it now and I still somewhat actually like the characters, but what I don't like...is this broken narrative that is still hanging around with a pointless character that doesn't matter to the show anymore.

Narratives, coherent narratives are important to a story, without it? You don't have characters and you don't have a story.

#helluva boss #helluva critique #helluva boss critical #helluva critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop critical #Narratives are the MOST IMPORTANT THING!#helluva boss season 2 #helluva boss season two #helluva boss blitz #anti stolas

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sanguineterrain · 3 hours

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Hey! Can I request a Clark x reader where they're dating but reader doesn't know Clark is superman. And then superman interacts with them for whatever reason and is flirty bc that's his person!!! But reader is like ☝️ hey buddy back off. I'm HAPPILY taken

this is such a cute request!!!! Argh!!!!

clark kent/superman x gn!reader. fluff, brief danger but r is okay. superman flirting with you but he's dating you? he's just a goober. i lub him <3 PLEASE feel free to imagine maws!clark. I feel like this is very himcore 🥰

****

Being a florist in Metropolis is good work. Lots of people still buy flowers, which is great. Many actually buy bouquets for Superman and leave them on display as support. Poppies, yellow tulips, and cornflowers. They're one of your favorite arrangements.

The downside to being a florist in Metropolis, however, is that on occasion, your flower display ends up the target of a killer robot.

You're not sure why that is. Mostly, you wish people would stop building killer robots.

You've gone outside to see what the commotion is about when you're grabbed by a metal claw. It squeezes hard, almost cutting off your air. You squirm in terror as the robot stomps down Main Street, crushing cars and asphalt in its wake.

"Help!" you scream when you catch your breath, and the robot squeezes you harder.

A dizzying blur of red, yellow, and blue zips past you. You think of your flowers.

The blur cuts through the metal like nothing. The robot begins to collapse, twitching and groaning. Its metal creaks, grip loosening on your body.

You hardly fall before Superman is there, cradling you to his chest.

"I've got you," he says, tucking you close.

You look up at him, and he beams at you, like saving you from a killer robot has been the best part of his day.

Come to think of it, Superman came to your aid surprisingly fast, even for him.

And he holds you... intimately. Like you've known him for years. Your heart picks up.

"Uh," he says, cheeks flushed. "Are–are you okay?"

You smile politely, arms around his neck. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Superman."

He nods, flying down the street. "Good. I'll get you back to your shop and clean up the flowers."

You tilt your head. "How do you know I'm a florist?"

Superman looks at you, blue eyes wide.

"Oh! I... uh, I've seen your arrangements all over the city. They're beautiful. I'd never forget that they belong to an equally beautiful face."

Goodness. If Superman is this forward with everyone he rescues, it's no wonder your flower arrangements are in high demand.

"I'm flattered," you begin, and Superman once again aims that grin with the power of a thousand suns at you. "But, respectfully, I'm very happily taken, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep this rescue professional."

Superman raises an eyebrow. To your surprise, he smiles wider.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't realize you were taken. My sincerest apologies. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's alright. I'm honored, but you couldn't pull me away from my boyfriend even with your super strength."

Superman's cheeks turn pinker. He sets you down in front of your store with the utmost care, not letting go until you have your bearings. He takes a step back, rubbing his neck. The gesture makes your brain itch. You don't know why.

"Well, uh, he must've done something right if he's lucky enough to be with you."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," you say fiercely. You don't know why you're so indignant about defending Clark's reputation to Superman. It's not like Clark will ever hear about it.

"No?"

"Not at all. He's an incredible person, kind and smart and loving, and if anyone's lucky, it's me."

Superman makes an aborted gesture to take your hand, then redirects and awkwardly pats your arm instead. You squint at him. He quickly moves away.

"Ah. Sorry. Well, I doubt that. I bet you're equally spectacular."

"Oh. Thank you."

You primly take his hand and give it a good shake. Superman bows his head and laughs.

He takes a step back, eyes bright like you've just made his day.

"Well, I wish you the best with your boyfriend. I'm sorry for being so forward. I've seen your Superman bouquets; your reputation precedes you. I make it a point to know reputed people in Metropolis."

"I can't imagine I'm very high on that list," you say.

"Ah, you'd be surprised. Besides, I never forget a face."

Superman darts behind you and moves at neckbreaking speed to clean up your partially maimed flowers. In three seconds, it's returned to its former glory.

"Well, uh, I'll be seeing you," Superman says, hands clasped behind his back. "I mean, I hope not in a circumstance like this! Th-then again, when else would we see each other? Scratch that, I hope there's no reason for us to cross paths because that would mean you're in danger. Uh, but I don't mean that in a bad way! I just—"

You snort and reach over to take a yellow tulip from your display. You give it to Superman, who takes it like you've just handed him a newborn baby.

"I'm still taken," you say. "But you're very sweet, Superman. Take care, alright?"

"Yeah," he says, tucking the tulip into the strap of his cape. "Yes, you too. Goodbye!"

He soars away, the tulip like a star on his cape.

Superman is handsome and kind, no doubt. But he's certainly no Clark Kent.

#clark kent x reader #superman x reader #superman x you #clark kent x you #clark kent imagine #superman imagine #clark kent fanfiction #superman fanfiction #dc imagine #dc fanfic #dc x you #inbox #blurb

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starpirateee · 6 hours

Note

Hi!! Could you write one of the Curtwen prompts I made, yet didn’t cut it? I love your writing style!!

Honestly there was a bit of deliberation here because you put some really good ideas out there on the form, but I did say I'd write em myself, and by all means, I'll still do it! So, I decided to go for this prompt:

Would you take a modern au from me? Can I do that?

I mean, I'm going to anyway, because I have a dire need to call Curt and Owen husbands (and also for wider Starkid lore), but i just thought I'd warn you beforehand!

"Agent Carvour, have you found anything yet?"

Owen leaned back away from his research. He'd been looking at the same page now for a while, trying to make some sense of it. Redacted government files were hard to get hold of, but even harder to make ends of. His system had been trying to translate it, but not even he had the software for that.

"Quite possibly, sir. I have a few sources, at least."

"What have you got?"

With an air of something that was almost excitement and almost elation, Owen pulled up a series of documents and started the walk through them. "Well, sir, the easiest source was from a few years ago. There's a company in Michigan that's been trying to conduct various temporal experiments under their parent company— some kind of analyst company, I think. They're surprisingly ordinary. Anyway, apparently the experiments just… Stopped. They never drew a conclusion on whether or not their research was connected to what was on the other side."

This had all started when Chimera had dug up a series of centuries old reports about people claiming to have looked into the eyes of old gods. None of the people had known each other, but all of the reports showed some form of consistency, and all told of great, unknowable power.

So, they had decided to look into it, to see if there had been anyone else who'd dared to brave the process of trying to find an answer. Owen was one of those lucky enough to find himself with the resources to start a thorough investigation.

"They didn't finish?"

"No, I don't know what happened, but the reports just stopped one day."

"Is there anything else?"

"An american government report, but it's as hard as you can imagine to decipher. Most of it is redacted…"

"Anything worth noting?"

Owen nodded, carefully turning back and switching the tabs. This felt a little like he was giving a presentation that he hadn't prepared for, and he hadn't felt like this in quite some time. He took a breath, trying to slow down the rampage that was going on in his head. "They started in the early noughts. 2005, to be precide. That's the earliest I'd gotten without looking at those old reports from the pioneers. A branch of the military tried to build a gateway to the other side, to investigate what existed outside of our plane. I don't know names, only one. The name of the man who performed the experiment."

"They got this gateway open?"

"Yes, sir. And they sent someone through. I think there's a good reason why his is the only name they disclosed."

"Why?"

"Because he was declared dead, sir."

His screen still displayed the document, and the man's name sat among the black markouts, clear enough to see. Cross, W.D. Apparently, he'd ventured into the portal, and nobody heard from him or saw him after the date of the experiment. They gave up the search after a month, and after that, Colonel Cross was indeed declared dead.

"So, another dead end?"

"Maybe not. I'll do what I can to uncover this with what I've got available, but it was scanned, so…. It might take some time." Owen was normally confident in his abilities, and uncovering government documents was a difficult yet necessary part of the job. There was something almost genuinely enthralling about scraping off the parts that the world's governments wanted to keep secret. It felt like giving people a small yet surprisingly effective slice of justice every time.

"Keep looking, Carvour. We need to know if this is viable, or even worth our time…"

If Owen had any kind of normal life— if he and his husband didn't both do the dirty work for secret operation services— he would have a blast trying to decide how to describe the intricacies of what he'd been researching lately. The throws of domestic life confounded him to no end, which was why it was so funny when he and Curt tried to imitate that.

The otherwise simple question of "how was your day" turned into a battle of who could craft the most believable lie that better concealed what they'd actually done. Neither wanted to jeopardise their jobs, and Curt had always been brilliant at crafting stories, so it was never dull.

He started to think about what today's excuse would be. Something about pioneers, or the Oregon trail, or perhaps he could bring up that old, dead colonel somehow, that would be interesting to add to the pile.

"You know what I'm gonna ask already…"

By the time he got home, Curt was already waiting for him, and the mid-spring sun was starting to set. For anyone else, it was a day at the office, but the trails he had begun to uncover had really put all other days at the office to shame.

He laughed softly, having prepared this answer a number of hours before, and took up a position on the couch. "No, love, you first. I insist."

"Fine, okay," Curt answered with a chuckle. "It was nothing really, just your standard… But, the bear returned, and in about a month, I'm gonna get really rich and run off to central Europe, with a really pretty lady and a dollar store box of magic tricks."

"The same bear from last month?"

"Yeah. Bastard won't leave me alone."

"Sounds wild. Are you coming back after your plans to run off with this really pretty lady?"

"Plan is to cut myself off after three weeks, but at this rate, I might not make it two."

"Not good enough?"

"Owen, I'm a bit too gay for that." To sell his point, he flashed his wedding band, and Owen laughed harder. "Besides," he added, covering his own bout of laughter. "Who needs a fake wife when I've got my own right here?"

Owen shot him a faux-offended glance. "How dare you!"

"You might fool the guys at work, O, but you couldn't pretend you don't think about it…"

Or that he hadn't been experimenting in that part of himself in little segments since he was seventeen. Turns out he suited long hair better, and he wouldn't hesitate to admit that he both looked and felt rather good with the occasional flourish.

"You know me well..."

"I should hope so! Anyway, what're you keeping from me? How was your day?"

"Office, just like you. I've had a conversation with a pioneer, and tried to erase marker pen over the body of a dead soldier. Oh, and I tried to teach myself statistical analysis."

"Jeez, that was— that was a whole rollercoaster there, huh?"

"Mhm, I've been busy."

"You can say that again, god… So, a pioneer? Like those guys that travelled to Oregon?"

"Yeah. Quite interesting people, if a little paranoid." Something other than their oxen might be watching them would've been a perfect addition to the statement, but Owen felt that was a little too close to the line to pass, so he decided not to add it.

The important part was, apart from the knowledge that Curt was on an assignment in a month's time, both of them were none the wiser. Curt didn't need to know that he had started the deep dive into a pack of eldritch gods and was even slightly nervous about the outcome.

He didn't sleep well that night. He knew that he had right to believe that this was all one great hoax, that there was something in the water that made the pioneers mass hallucinate this supposed watcher. They all travelled on the same trail, it was entirely plausible that all of them found the same hallucinogenic and envisioned a thousand eyes watching them and their familes. It was less of a coincidence when two subsidaries of larger companies started describing details of experiments that led them to discovering other beings beyond just the watcher, of course, but he still wasn't sure whether he was privy to believing any of it.

There was something about redacted government files, though, that were meant to be believed. There was a reason they hid information from the public, and that was often because they had found something worth disclosing in the first place. That meant huge news, large press cover ups… The whole works… And that was the last thing any self-respecting government with something to hide would want. Owen imagined the size of the initial press conferences for dealings like Roswell, how many people must've shown up to that conference, under the impression that they were going to get answers, only for the press to redact the next day and claim that it was no more than a weather balloon.

He felt like he was dealing with a weather balloon of his own right now. This was something that this branch of the military clearly didn't want people knowing. The only reason they'd had to disclose any information at all was because one of their own had died looking for this information, and they had to provide the closure for whatever family he had left. Part of him wondered what they'd said, how they'd tried to cover up this man's imminent demise at the hands of another dimension. What did his family know? Was he ever given a sendoff?

When Owen tried to sleep that night, plagued with the thoughts of how much his research was worth, and what really happened on the other side, he couldn't get his head in the right place to take a suitable rest for long enough. Flashes of colour— brighter than anything he'd ever seen— danced behind his eyelids, chasing each other in sequence. Blue. Purple. Yellow. Pink. Green. White. Blue…. He didn't have much of the capacity to think, not when those colours started consuming his subconscious thought, but he spared a moment to the hope that he may get answers of his own if he stuck around long enough.

"He thinks he's brave… He thinks we don't know about him…"

Whatever dream he had been having was taken over by blurred edges and violent pangs of pain that he was sure he could feel outside of this existence. Everything faded out, leving only ruin in it's wake. Broken pieces, scrambled signals… Owen didn't even try and make sense of it, he already understood the futility of trying. There was nothing left in his mind but those colours and those voices— for he was sure there was more than one. A sickening chorus, holding perfect time with each other.

"He's foolish, if he thinks he can go further without us finding out."

"Owennnn…"

"We know what you're doing, Owen…. It's not going to last."

He'd thought about meeting his maker before. He'd thought about the possibility of death, the idea that he may not live to see another day eventually. It was hard to deliberate something so serious in his early thirties, but his line of work called for it. He knew that he had a dangerous job, and that there were few who would be able to save him if something happened.

But, he'd never considered the possibility of his own demise to this extent before. In the formless remains of his dream, where he was forced into hearing these voices talk about his death and how soon it would be to coming, he had pause for deliberation. And it wasn't good.

He had to strain to take control of his own voice, in this space that was once his own. Once so sacred, now scarce and left entirely to the whim of whatever was taking residence in his mind. This was a bad idea. All of this research was a bad idea, and he was suddenly more aware of that than he was anything else. Never before had he had such a violent urge to overturn everything he'd worked on for the sake of something this seemingly trivial.

"There's nothing you can do. It's already started. This is bigger than me…"

"We know that. You're not the only one we have heard trying to work your way into what is ours… Choose your next step carefully, Owen. I'm sure we would delight in taking you in the same direction as the others…"

Before he could really ask what that meant, he was left entirely alone. The ruin of his dream still stood strong, which was strange enough given that the voices had left him alone, but he had the strangest feeling that there was more to this landscape than just what he was being shown. He started to wander, to look around in an attempt to find the real end to all of this. His mind was a wasteland, taken over by the lack of colour and the apparently deafening absence of those voices that had only appeared a moment before. He felt empty without them, although he knew nothing more than the sequence of colours that paraded through his vision.

Blue… Purple…. Yellow…

The pattern was familiar, like he'd seen it before somewhere. And while he wasn't resting easy, he couldn't force himself to wake up, either. No matter how hard he tried, he was just left stuck, wandering the expanse until he found what he was apparently looking for.

Pink…. Green…. White… Blue…

The expanses of his mind stretched out into a road, occupied by nothing but empty space. He supposed that was mostly his own fault; he had known for years that his imagination was never one to be put on par with anything else. He couldn't so vividly picture that which others could, and he'd never really had much of a capacity to dream, either.

So, this warning was strange. Seeing such vivid, bright colours in the back of his mind, knowing that he couldn't have conjured them himself…

He started to walk the road, curious enough to want to know where it went.

"Owen?"

That voice wasn't like the ones who had left moments before. That voice had a personality, and a person to go with. It was warm, though scared. Human all the same. And Owen knew the shape of it.

"Owen?"

Owen let his instinct lead him down the road, through it's many curves and winds. Eventually, the road gave way to what could only possibly be a stage. There was a set of stairs to one side, that he let himself climb before he could think to wonder where they led, and then the familiar voice gave way to a man in the wings, staring at him with desperate, fear-lined eyes. Of course he knew the voice, and of course he had never tried to doubt himself on the matter.

He tried to advance towards Curt, but he took a hasty step back, shaking his head.

"Curt?"

"Prove you're Owen."

"I'm sorry?"

Curt hesitated, and then slowly emerged from the wings. Even though he stood on the light of the stage, it still looked like he was carefully enveloped in shadow, like the darkness was a comfort to him. Owen looked around, wondering what had made him so cautious, and whether it was still around. Had Curt seen what he'd seen? What had those things whispered to him?

"I'm not falling for it again. Tell me you're actually Owen…"

Owen frowned, not wanting to dwell too much on why Curt was so afraid to reach out to him and realise that all of this was as real as they could get it. "Curt, love, I don't know what you want me to say…" There was a certain desperation about him too. Improvisation had never been his strong suit, but he wass confident that, given the right prompt, he would be able to convince his husband that he was who he said he was, to quell any discrepancy that it may have been otherwise.

"Don't. Show me… What happened on your 25th birthday."

The pieces fit into place, and Owen nodded dutifully. He had been out in the field that day, a strikingly hot day in the middle of June. The two of them had barely ended up with three hours together by the end of it, and they'd gone out drinking to celebrate what little time was left of his birthday. He'd never been particularly big on celebrating, but Curt had insisted. They were newly married then, and getting used to the idea of sharing a life with someone else. That was one of the first nights following their wedding when Owen truly came to realise that he'd made entirely the right decision, and that there was nobody he'd rather share his life with than Curt Mega.

"My 25th… That was a home ground mission. I was in the state."

"What happened to you?"

Owen smiled, somewhere between fondness and a need to hide the melancholic air that hung about that question. He pushed up the sleeve of his jacket, and huffed a weary breath of laughter. "I was trying to make my exit, but the suit jacket caught on a fence. Here…" With his sleeve rolled to just the right length, Owen held out his arm and pointed out a pale flash just below his elbow— a jagged scratch that had never quite healed right. "That's what happened after the fabric tore. Is that enough?"

Curt had known about the scar. He'd also known about the story. He was pretty sure that nobody else knew, though, so in his head, that had always been his fallback option in the event that he was ever sure Owen needed to prove himself. Those stories lined up perfectly, and while Owen had missed out on some of the details, in the grander scheme of things, he'd gotten it exactly right. He shifted, letting a knowing smile cross his face through the fear that still gripped him.

"It's really you…"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

Curt's approach was still careful, premeditated. Even though he knew the truth now, there was still something about him that screamed a lack of trust directly into his ear, and it made actually reaching out for Owen so much harder. "You… You were trying to kill me."

"What now?"

"I know what I saw…"

"I don't doubt you, but I would never… I swear it on my life."

"I know, that's why it was strange… I— What the hell's happening?" This stage was the only thing connecting the two of them to reality. There was nothing beyond it but the end of the road that Owen had travelled down, and nothing behind it but black, empty space.

Owen let his instinct take over. If the two of them were going to face the unknown, whatever and wherever this was, then they were going to do it together. They always had, and they always would. That was the way things worked, especially for the two of them, because their lives were built so heavily on the idea of distrust that any semblance of the opposite they could get, they would cling to. Normally that was exclusively each other, and so the world wasn't usually much larger than the two of them.

Their hands connected in the middle of the emptiness. Owen pulled Curt Closer to him, and the two of them stood side, performers to an unknown audience, marionettes for something larger than themselves. They exchanged a glance, and Owen registered the warm, homely spark residing in Curt's eyes.

"I think we're trapped in a nightmare, crazy as it sounds," he tried to respond, but he wasn't entirely sure where this was going to go. "I can't wake up, but I remember falling asleep last night."

"Me too. I fell asleep before you did, you were still reading."

"Right, and now there's this. Whatever this is. did you, by chance, see those colours too?"

Curt nodded. "They came before you did, before the- other you. Blue, and purple, and yellow…"

"…Pink, and green, and white..?"

"And then blue again."

Owen heaved a sigh. "Curt, there's something I have to confess. It's safe to do so now, there's little that could get in the way of what I have to admit, but this is one of those things I wouldn't be able to tell you awake, you understand?"

There was a moment's pause, in which Curt tried to work around Owen's phrasing. Both of them felt the incredibly revealing sense that they were being watched, so Curt understood that Owen had gone into the professional mindset— switching off his senses for the sake of making as much sense of something as possible. It was always how he rationalised his way through situations, and it hadn't failed him yet.

Eventually, Curt nodded again, as the words started to sink in and he started to get a sense of what was being said. "This about what you told me this evening?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid there's a little more to it than what I told you, but I suppose that was rather obvious."

A nervous breath of laughter left Curt, only partially voluntary. "I thought there'd be a bit more to it than erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier…. What the hell kinda explanation was that, anyway?"

"One I spent a good hour crafting, thank you very much. I thought it was clever."

"Better than a pretty lady and a box of tricks?"

"And a bear, yes."

"… And the bear. Right. Well, what's that mean? erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier, what're you saying there?"

"I've…" This is not going to get you done for. Those documents were already top secret before you saw them. And if it gets you out of this nightmare prison, then surely it has to be worth it. "I've been uncovering sealed military case files that might explain what's happening to us right now."

Curt's eyes went wide. "Fucking what?!"

"It's all part of the job. I can't… I can't elaborate. Know only what everyone else knows: that the only reason any part of this is disclosed at all is because someone died during one of the experiments."

"What's that got to do with what's happening here?"

"That's what they were researching."

That seemed to click to some degree. At least, Curt seemed to understand a few of the larger pieces, perhaps the more obvious ones. "The colours?" In his head, there was an experiment, someone tried to make sense of whatever that was in their shared mindscape. Someone— a soldier, presumably, had died in the middle of these experiments, and now Owen had gotten tangled in this mess through his agency, and the two of them had been dropped into the same nightmare.

Owen nodded. "The colours."

At the moment he said that, a loud rumble disrupted their moment and forced their attention out into the expanse of nothing. Laughter— multiple sources with varying shrieks and gasps that couldn't be placed to a single source— burst from behind the wings, and from in front of them, and from the endless expanse of black that surrounded them. A loud crack followed, and Curt swore as the stage splintered beneath his feet. For a split second, his grip loosensed, and the next time the ground rumbled, they were torn apart by the growing crack in the stage. He staggered back, and the two of them ended on opposite sides of the stage, the crack between them growing and delving deeper into the unknown.

"Owen!" He called, trying to regain his footing but falling back.

"Curt! Hold on!" Owen yelled through the growing laughter, scrambling back to reach out for the pulley system backstage. He needed a foothold on something, a way to sturdy himself so he could regroup and think. It was too loud, he couldn't think in this kind of heat, with this kind of mess, and Curt, and-

Another crack. The stage was starting to fall away from itself, split not quite perfectly in two. Owen's breath ran short. In the swirls of colour and mayhem and possibilities, he saw a way out. One chance to get this right, and to make sure that they both survived the fall while they were still stuck here. He gripped the rope tight, levering himself further towards the crack, and looked to Curt. "You're gonna have to jump it!" He called, desperation winning over any attempts to stay sane. "Don't worry! You know I'll never let you down!"

"Are you crazy?!" Curt managed, staring into the gap. "I can't jump that, it's too far!"

"Curt, before the whole place splits in half, you have to get over here!"

"What if I don't make it?"

"Trust me! Please!"

Curt backed off a few paces. Owen stood ready, one hand gripping the rope wrapped around his wrist, and the other reaching out as far as he could, waiting for a move to be made. After a singular preparatory breath, he sprinted for the gap, and pushed off from the splintered wood at the edge.

He reached out.

Owen reached out.

Their fingertips connected briefly in the space, and then Curt slipped away beneath his grasp.

Owen threw himself forward, feeling the rope worming itself free and burning his wrist in the process. He'd promised. He wasn't going to let Curt fall. And he was nothing if not a man of his word.

Curt's eyes squeezed shut, preparing for an endless fall through the ineviatble. Something laced around his wrist and he felt himself stop moving. Exerting all the caution he knew to exert, he looked up, and caught a familiar whiskey brown staring back at him.

"I've got you!" Owen breathed, and Curt fought to angle himself so that he could get a better chance to grab the broken stage floor. When Owen started hauling backwards, Curt managed to get a hold of the edge of the stage, and made it a joint effort to haul him to his feet. "You're alright… You're okay…"

Curt essentially fell into Owen's arms. Owen held on tight, like he could lose his partner at any second to the swirls and the crevice. He stared out into the emptiness, ignoring the very real pain that he could feel at his wrist but cherishing the very reel feeling of Curt's shirt underneath his hands. The very air seemed to shift. Owen wasn't previously aware that colours could get angry, but this green that flooded the space behind his eyes was pissed. He could feel it.

So was he. Pissed, and way more desperate than a man ought to be.

"Alright," he muttered once, and Curt drew back ever so slightly. He noticed Owen was staring off into the greater expanse, and hoped for all it was worth that he couldn't see something out there.

"Alright!" His voice got louder, and he tried to mask his utter despair in an authorative tone. "I get it. You hear me? I get it!"

Everything fell eerily silent. The only sound that remained was the pounding of Owen's heart in his ears. He took a breath, strangely certain of himself. Glanced at Curt. Spared his attention on the void again.

"That soldier… Wilbur Cross? That was your fault, wasn't it? There's a good reason nobody can get very far into digs like these, and it's because you strive to kill them before they do. Nobody ought to know what's on the other side, and that's why nobody does…"

"Owen, what're you doing?" Curt whispered, but to no response and little avail. Owen was lost in whatever he was about to say.

"… But, I've heard talk of bargains being made here, so how about it?"

"Your desperation speaks for itself."

Owen had to pretend that that— the voice from the middle of nowhere or what it had said to him— didn't bother him in the slightest. He steeled himself, not sure where to direct his attention but knowing he'd probably have it right no matter what he chose. "What do you say, am I allowed to make a deal?"

The air shifted. Owen didn't receive a direct answer, but he knew that he'd been allowed to continue. "If I don't continue— if I go back, and tell my people that it's an impossibility, that it can't be done— would you let him go?" Another quick glance at Curt, as if the green something needed clarification, or as if he knew what he was signing himself up for.

Curt was frozen in place, his eyes wide. He'd heard every word as it echoed in the void, and he hated what it was implying. His gaze was fixed on Owen, fear blazing through his face. "No, Owen—" his voice came out weak. As far as literal interpretations go, that was not a good one. He didn't understand what was happening, but it terrified him to know that Owen was being so calm about this, while he could be selling his life away with nothing more than a few choice words.

Owen frowned, and muttered an apology he was sure only Curt would catch. The green grew angrier, setting a violent fire behind his eyes and forcing him onto his knees as the pain flooded his body.

"You better not be fucking with me."

"No! I— I wouldn't! I'm serious! I'll call it off, I swear on my life, just… He has nothing to do with any of this. It's not his fault."

The thing considered, holding Owen firmly in place while he deliberated. Curt couldn't move— he didn't dare, lest something happen to Owen that put him in more danger than he was already in. All he could do was force himself into keeping his breath steady, and not thinking about what a single wrong move could do to either of them. His eyes landed on the friction burn winding neatly around Owen's wrist, and he decided to focus on that for a while; the only other colour in a void of blackness and green.

"Very well."

That was the last thing Owen heard. Some part of his mind just shut down, and he collapsed to the floor of the stage. He didn't hear the way Curt screamed his name, or the return of the chorus of laughter. His eyes closed, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up with a start, underneath the sheets of his own bed, gasping for breath. He sturdied himself out, and once he was sure that he was real, and definitely in a familiar space, he looked over to Curt, and found him still asleep.

"Curt?" His voice was soft, but his mind was a knife point of tension. If that had gone wrong, then why was he the one to live through it ant not Curt? He tried again, biting his lip. "Curt..?"

Curt groaned. His eyes opened slowly. The relief that Owen felt hit him like a tidal wave.

For some reason, Curt was entirely surprised to see that Owen had made it through to the other side. He managed a weary smile, and tried to get his vision into focus. That was one of those decisions that he immediately came to regret. As soon as he brought himself a little more into the real worls, he noticed that the brown in Owen's eyes was stained with something else, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Dripping down his irises was a flash of toxic, unsettlingly bright green.

#spies are forever #saf #starkid #agent curt mega #owen carvour #star mail #void offering #nova's tags →#wiggly would have an absolute field day with owen and curt huh #bc desires run deep. they want each other. they want to be free...#but curt wants to not be haunted by the ghosts of his past #and owen wants to move on. to get a better future where he doesn't have to devote his life to an agency #might be fun to play around with

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geese-in-a-frock-coat · 1 day

Note

What's your evidence for Watts and Murdoch being autistic? (I totally agree btw)

Hello, internet stranger. Buckle up cause I've thought too hard about this.

Ok disclaimer I have not really sat down and watched the whole thing for a hot minute. Its past nine, you're just gonna have to trust me this one.

Credentials: Mega autisitc

Murdoch:

Does not understand social conventions. Like this ones pretty obvious. He doesn't understand why people keep dogs. Raises his kid in a completely non traditional way. Frequently doesn't get why people care about something that he sees as not being worth it (sports and popular trends and so forth).

Doesn't like small talk

Cares about justice NOT the law. The thing that really makes me think he's autistic is that he cares about things being just and is prepared to break the rules to do so. The main example being he lets that woman out of prison depsite the fact that he could go down for it. He turns a blind eye to Watts and lets Giles go even though they're both criminals in the eyes of the law. And on the flipside he sends George to prison because I think that's what he percieves as justice (if anyone's seen the bridge this really reminds me of Saga at the end of season 2)

Sees through hierarchy. There are so many epsiodes that play out like "I think Mr X is the killer." "But Mr x is extrememly important and influential!" "I don't care he killed her."

Interest in science and inventing. Look I know we joke about stereotypes but like, its a stereotype for a reason. He builds things with an autistic brain. He uses pattern repition through learning about previous inventions and applying them to his own devices.

Visual learner. This is not autism exclusive but he solves cases in such a unique way that it screams ND to me. Murdoch often literally builds a case. They make a joke about clue/cludo but he literally has to make the model of a house to picture where everyone is. He makes all those model of the ladies that were covered in metal. And let us not forget his famous chalk board.

Buzzkill. I say this as a long-term sufferer of leaves parties at 8:45 syndrome. He does 'boring hobbies' which autistic people often have because we don't feel the need to take up traditional ones.

Remember that scene where he attempts to read out his and Julia's book and just absolutely cannot tell that no one gives a single toss about anything he's saying.

Wears the same thing for nearly 20 years. If it ain't broke don't fix it.

Refused to let his wife cut his hair because he didn't want to change from the lady who used to do it.

breather. Part 2: watts.

Cannot read social cues: Frequently insults other station house four people. Pretty sure he called someone's baby ugly but I might have hallucinated that. "You're face is symetrical." Got chucked out of station house because he didn't get on with any of them

Disregard for societal norms: doesn't feel the need to be polite or tactful with anyone or to really follow police protocol. Acts very 'improper' a lot of the time. Only got one shoe shined that one time because that was all he needed. Puts his feet on the sofa, lies on the desk and leans over tables.

Makes limited eye contact.

The man will fidget with anything: Look this is clearly a character decision from Daniel Maslany but its an autistic character decision if ever I saw one. We're talking pencils, cups, fabric, anything. If it is on the set, he will find a way to play with out. And I don't normally like to assign autistic traits onto behaviour implemented by actors but it's basically stimming at this point. I dare you to keep an eye on this man's hands for any scene and I garuntee you they will not stay still.

Disorganised, but not: He always has tiny bits of paper and whatnot in his pockets but always seems to know where everything is. organised but doesn't have to time to be tidy. Same whenever we see his flat, it's equally disorganised. as an autistic person I find things end up all over the place because I don't have the capacity to keep them in order.

Bad handwriting and can't spell

Physicality: Most autistic people will have some sort of problem with co-ordination. He walks uneavenly. He has an odd posture. I always think about that scene where he steps in sick and moves around like a dear on ice. He's clumsy, can't sit straight and has a strange posture.

can't think when being interrupted

can't focus on two things at once.

George realised he'd been possessed by aliens because he was acting normally.

pretzels: dare i say safe food. If not, they're bland, usually the same everytime and take little mental effort to consume.

Strong sense of justic: see william murdoch.

SPECIAL MENTIONS:

Dr Emily Grace: didn't become a doctor becuase she didn't want to adopt a 'cheerful bedside manor.'

Dr Julia Ogden: Married to Murdoch (like calls to like) and sees through the bullshit of victorian society.

Susannah Murdoch: has those two as parents and I have the full confidence of genetics on this one.

In conclusion:

There's probably so much more I could talk about that I just don't remember because there is a lot more of this show than most others. But anyway. Murdoch is autistic because he has to be for the show to work and becuase he often comedic-foils far too close to the sun. And Watts is autistic because there is no way on God's green earth a man who stands like that is neurotypical.

Thank you, internet stranger, I am here all week.

#sorry this is word vomit #there is a reason i shouldn't try and be funny on the internet #murdoch mysteries #cbc murdoch #cbc mm #william murdoch queer icon #william murdoch #llewellyn watts is autistic #llewellyn watts #dr julia ogden #dr emily grace #autistic stuff

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cerisahh · 2 days

Text

WHAT'S YOUR NICHE!

SYNOPSIS ꒱ fandoms that the saiki k characters would be in and what games/shows they enjoy.

REQUEST ꒱ what niche thing (fandom, shows etc.) would the saiki k characters like? - @hanjisungslag

CHARACTERS INCLUDED ꒱ saiki, kaidou, kuboyasu, nendou, hairo, teruhashi, aiura, yumehara

NOTE ꒱ hello j my dearest. enjoy your headcanons ♡

KUSOU SAIKI

• ok hear me out... minecraft.

• saiki likes the simplicity and how relaxing the game can be, he wears his germanium ring whilst playing so he can listen to the ingame music without being interrupted by voices in his vicinity.

• saiki managed to watch death note before he could get spoiled mentally. he guessed some of the plot before it happened but overall he really enjoyed it. his favourite character is L.

• very reluctantly watched attack on titan after kaidou found out he hadn't seen it (the entire plot got spoiled before he got a chance to watch it, why bother now?). despite knowing what would happen he actually enjoyed it. especially the animation. his favourite character is carla jeager because she reminds him of his mother.

• mindlessly watches documentaries. he's doing homework? there's a documentary playing in the background. cooking food? documentary playing on the tv. walking home from school? he's got headphones on and is listening to a documentary. NEVER nature documentaries though. he hates them.

SHUN KAIDOU

• no one on this earth could convince me that kaidou wouldn't be in a thousand and one fandoms.

• i'm talking warrior cats, undertale, my hero academia, five nights at freddy's, bottom of the barrel fandoms, THE cringiest fandoms and by proxy a cringe fanboy (he loves them though).

• he larps (live action role playing). probably founded a roleplay group in his area.

• plays overwatch and thinks he’s hot shit because he bought a diamond account.

• has an absolute temper tantrum when he actually plays on it and falls to bronze 2. tried to main reaper to further his jet black wings persona but got stuck on lucio when playing mystery heroes once and LOVED using him, so he decided to main him.

• AND HE CLIMBED TO SILVER 3!!! he’s getting out of the trenches.

AREN KUBOYASU

• aren would def play league of legends.

• and he gets TOXIC as hell. just says the most diabolical shit imaginable. he has multiple accounts because he gets banned all the time.

• aren is in a bunch of facebook groups about motorcycles. i think that’s the closest he’ll ever get to being in an actual fandom.

• i lied in the above text. he def plays final fantasy and keeps up with all the lore.

• oh and you just KNOW he’s into games like diablo 4, call of duty and gta. ESPECIALLY gta.

RIKI NENDOU

• nendou plays minecraft like as soon as he gets back from school.

• don't get me wrong nendou is a fucking moron -- but why can he build the most intricate builds ever??

• like actual mansions, castels, and manors... they're really good??????

• and yet at the same time he much prefers to create dirt huts and houses made out of pure diamond and gold blocks. whilst denying he went in creative.

• is a part of a lot of childrens cartoon fandoms. the amazing world of gumball, aspongebob sqaurepants, and my little pony (his favourite character is discord).

• still actively plays baldi's basics even though it died off years ago.

KINESHI HAIRO

• hairo isnt actually in many fandoms.

• i mean he's on the move all the time, he doesn't have time to be in fandoms.

• loved the first season of physical 100 so much that he applied to be on the second. (he got in?)

• plays fireboy and watergirl with nendou (hairo is wasd because nendou can only use the arrows).

• kind of still watches cartoons from his childhood (doraemon and wonderpets mostly)

• he does enjoy the occasional comedy movie from time to time - free guy, friday, deadpool, central intelligence, you get the picture.

• apart from that, yes not much.

KOKOMI TERUHASHI

• is one of those girls obsessed with the sims. spends more time in character creation and build mode then actually playing the game.

• has a THOUSAND mods installed, but she has a good pc (courtesy of her brother) so it still runs well.

• born to be a marvel girl, forced to play with barbie dolls.

• is really big on collecting monster high dolls. she scours bidding websites daily to check if a doll that she’s missing has been listed. also makes sure her profile is public on there, sometimes people recognise her and give it for a reduced price. or sometimes free! being the perfect pretty girl has its perks.

• owns all the monster high movies on dvd.

• her favourite character is cleo de nile. she wishes she could act like she does.

• plays love nikki religiously. owns a majority of the sets ingame and bases some of her irl outfits on clothes from it, it’s like her pinterest. she’s one of the richest players in her region.

• i actually don’t think i’ve mentioned this yet, but she really likes monster high.

MIKOTO AIURA

• aiura, when not reading fortunes, tends to spend her time playing horror games.

• she's really invested in scp lore and even created her own scp original character when she was twelve.

• HUGELY into true crime youtubers. buys those 'solve an unsolved murder' packages and discusses theories on reddit.

• used to watch judge judy as a child after food and it’s still ingrained into her routine. she invites yumehara over one night for a sleepover and basically forces a watch session on her:

“hm?” yumehara watches as aiura fluffs up two pillows on the floor in front of the television, “oh! are we going to watch a movie?”

aiura looks at her incredulously, mid-fluff on the second pillow, “no, chiyopipi. now we will watch judge judy. since i was so busy with work and school im a whole two seasons behind!”

yumehara squints at the elderly woman on screen, not at all looking forward to this, “how long is it?”

“oh a couple of hours at least!”

she’s lucky she brought plenty of snacks.

• obsessed with vampires and any media that’s vampire related, she thinks they’re the most attractive mythical creature. (objectively wrong, btw)

CHIYO YUMEHARA

• similarly to teruhashi, spends a lot of her time playing the sims. she enjoys puppeteering the sims so they do her bidding though... it gets weird.

• YANDERE SIMULATOR. was an OG player for SURE.

• used to be really popular in the gacha life community before she just lost all interest.

• flits from fixation to fixation, she never stays in one fandom for too long. it scares her to be still.

• yumehara is absolutely an anime girl. especially romance, but she also likes action anime’s.

• when she heard saiki and kaidou talking about attack on titan in class she decided to make an anime editing account on tiktok (it got successful) and she almost FAINTED when she saw kaidou showing the edit to saiki during class (he doesn’t know it’s her).

• saiki does though, he actually thinks she’s got nice editing skills. he’d rather lick a foot than tell her that though.

#cerisahhs requests #saiki k #kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo #saiki k headcanons #saiki kusou no psi nan #saiki no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k #tdlosk #shun kaidou #aren kuboyasu #riki nendou #aiura mikoto #teruhashi kokomi #yumehara chiyo #hairo kineshi

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myheartalivewrites · 2 days

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20 questions for fic writers

Hey @cha-melodius thanks for tagging me in this!

How many works do you have on ao3?

What's your total ao3 word count?

329,905

What fandoms do you write for?

RWRB and A Marvellous Light (The Last Binding trilogy). I've been thinking about writing for We Could be So Good by Cat Sebastian since I read it last week. I loved it so much I binge read 3 other books by the same author straight after, and then turned right back to WCBSG. Book rec for everyone who's not read it!

Top five fics by kudos:

Deep Blue

Just Like That.

Oxford Days

In His Wildest Dreams

A tie for fifth! Have One (On Me) and Tumbled Down and Tangled Up

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Unless they're a bit dodge lol

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This is the question that reminds me I've done this game before hehe. I'm only interested in happy endings so this is hard to choose, but Don't Wanna Be A Fool For You is quite angsty and ends just as they're getting over the angst, so I have to go with that.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I always write happy endings, BUT, if I must choose, I'm gonna go with a non-RWRB fic here. in your room, like a temple is an epilogue of sorts to A Marvellous Light, and it makes me SO HAPPY to have written this settled future for Robin and Edwin.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not usually, though I did get a couple of annoying comments on my first threesome fic from people who thought their own vision of monogamy for Alex and Henry was something they had to come and tell me about 🙄

Do you write smut?

hahahahhaaaaaaaa yes

Craziest crossover:

Never done one

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No! Someone did ask me about translating Deep Blue but I don't think they've followed through with it. I'd love it though

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

All time favorite ship?

Alex and Henry

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oooh, I don't have any WIPs on ao3 to feel guilty about. What sits on my hard drive is between me and my atheist god (also me)

What are your writing strengths?

Yikes, ok! Here are things I like about my writing: I like the way I write smut that's super emotional AND super hot, and all the different ways I've come up to make smut scenes different from each other (because writing them can sometimes feel repetitive from my perspective). I like the way I play with rhythm in sentences and build tension in scenes. I like the way I build emotional and sexual tension in a piece overall. Please no one drop into the notes to tell me they disagree 😂

What are your writing weaknesses?

I CANNOT come up with external obstacles! Whenever I'm trying to plot something out and I'm trying to come up with BIG PLOT REASONS to keep people apart, my brain just freezes. I love internal obstacles, the emotional reasons why people choose to do the things they do, but as for external things to move the plot along (think Jeffrey Richard leaking emails, Queen Mary telling Henry how to live his life) I'm just... ultimately uninterested in them. Which is fine if it's a choice, and I love a lot of writing just like that, but I wish my brain could at least TRY.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Like it.

First fandom you wrote in?

RWRB

Favorite fic you've written?

Haha good one. Changes all the time. Current fave: Paper Chains, I think (a personal stab to my heart how much it's underrated). I tried something new for me with the structure, and I think the emotional punches hit so hard, I'm so proud of it. Or maybe the new one for RBB, called Foxden Park. Coming soon!

No pressure tags (and sorry if you've already done this and I've missed it!): @thesleepyskipper @firenati0n @welcometololaland @inexplicablymine @sparklepocalypse

@onetwistedmiracle @tintagel-or-cockleshells @historicallysam @cultofsappho @14carrotghoul

@suseagull04 @magicandarchery @itsmaybitheway @porcelainmortal @anincompletelist and anyone who fancies joining in! 😘

#about me #tag games #my writing #rwrb fanfic

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chaoticsoulsword · 2 days

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*sigh*

Let's do this again.

The most harmful and irreparable damage the MCU has ever done is definitely Wanda's characterization and how the "fandom" perceives her even when non-cb readers migrate to the 616 side.

(This is screenshot depicting a fan reacting to Russell Dauterman's redesign of Lore, an evil Wanda variant who first debuted in 1993 in Scarlet Witch #1. She will return in the new Scarlet Witch series this year)

In addition to all the "she's always been white" constant, toxic and racist comments, which only reinforces their lack of ability to recognize issues such as colorism, Rromani representation (when they actually know the difference between Rromani and Romanian, that is) and straight-up whitewashing, they also fail to identify a most essential trait of her entire characterization: her desire to do good and become a symbol of heroism.

Wanda despises doing harm to others. Her first iteration is legitimately a depiction in which she and Pietro are being forced by Magneto to work for him and his brotherhood of evil mutants, all thanks to emotional manipulation. She never means to hurt the original X-Men except when Pietro is hurt and/or in danger. It's her protective side, not her "evil" side.

(Uncanny X-Men v1 #4; #11)

It's also fundamental to be aware that Wanda and Pietro come from a place where there's trauma for being abused by Magneto when it comes to their powers. This is why they are hesitant to join the Avengers, and yet their sense of responsibility is stronger.

(Avengers v1 #16)

Now, when it comes to Chthon, it's another rabbit hole of struggling with independence, power and agency. Being controlled by an evil force is as an old trope as any other in comic books. Still, I can't help but notice that her relationship with Chthon is never truly solved as other magic characters' issues, so why does it stick to Wanda the hardest?

Allow me illustrate with other examples:

1. Magik and the Darkchylde.

For those who don't know, the Darkchylde is "an evil side" of Illyana Rasputin, result of her captor and abuser's tampering with her soul.

The Darkchylde has several interpretations, from abuse to struggling with self-worth, and it has been established for decades as a side of Illyana that she despises, fears and suppresses.

(New Mutants v1 #71)

Illyana took years to make peace with her inner self and even had an arc to leave her reigning place of power in Limbo to Madelyne, another character who was villanized by the narrative for the very same reasons. Which begs the question.... why would a fan root for the Darkchylde to be her standard self when this is precisely what she hates the most? When it's precisely what causes her pain and leads her to a process of isolation and unhealthy behavior?

2. Doctor Strange and dark magic

Throughout sixty years of stories, there are a few moments in which the Sorcerer Supreme is faced with the old dilemma if he should use dark magic or not. And yet, from everything he went through, even in his darkest moments, he still chooses to do good. This is an intrinsic part of him. Yes, we've seen alternate evil iterations, but the main version is still a recognized, praised character for all the good deeds he performs on a daily basis.

(New Avengers v3 Annual #1)

3. Loki against fate

(Immortal Thor #2)

Loki's most recent and important journey throughout the years is precisely changing their fate, from the god of mischief and lies to the god of stories. They know they also have antagonistic roles to play as such, and yet they look forward to building a better relationship with Thor and the Asgardians. They're as complex as they come, but never back to their first and oldest iteration.

There are others, of course, like Nico Minoru and the Staff of One, Daimon Hellstrom and his will to deny his father's desires etc etc. I can even point a famous non-magical one: THE HULK. Yep, the guy who has spent his entire existence struggling with said dichotomy.

So you see, this is not a situation where "women can't be villains, god forbid women do anything" like some of them love to claim. You have Amora, Morgan Le Fey, Umar, even Lore now. The fact is, the MCU pushed the main version of its Wanda to be an irremediable character. Fans may or not defend her actions, but the truth is, they went too far for a role of opposition/antagonism justified by mental issues, which is yet another problematic, hellish rabbit role that we discussed so many times, over and over and over.

House of M is by itself such a harmful event in Wanda's entire characterization that, even now in the 616 universe, she still struggles to be (re)accepted by the hero community. She's still demonized by mutants, she's still depicted as mentally unstable.

(X-Men #7 - 2019)

Meanwhile, few writers are doing their hardest to give her some independence and agency (praised be Orlando and McKay). She has finally showcased her resolve to deal with Chthon by absorbing the Darkhold. She finally built a place to help people in a small community. She's an avenger yet again.

(Darkhold: Omega #1)

However, despite all that, she's still being patronized and lectured on (for instance, Agatha trying to take the Darkhold from her).

(Scarlet Witch v3 Annual #1)

The fact that she hasn't given up on the role of super hero only showcases how fundamental, intrinsic, unshakeable is her desire to do good. The fact that she's a nexus being and that the Scarlet Witch is a role passed down through generations are enough reasons to reiterate how important she is as a defender of the universe, same importance we often see in the role of the Sorcerer Supreme.

No fan has ever advocated for readers to be feared by a Sorcerer Supreme. Those are roles of heroes.

So yeah, "evil mother" and "serving cunt" will not do it for me. Because being evil means embracing everything Wanda hates the most and fights the hardest. So you come here and tell me that Wanda was supposed to be evil incarnate, to the point of comparing her to Voldemort, is plainly offensive and shows how little you understand her. You have other mothers to kneel to if you so desperately need one. Wanda is not one of them. Leave her alone.

TL;DR: Saying Wanda should be evil is stupid and harmful.

#scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #quicksilver #anti-mcu #the most illiterate fandom is the cbm and cb fandom i swear

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