#I've cut out the bit where they cut to john because they assumed he made the joke

[javelinbk]

George Harrison gets the best laugh of the night. The Beatles' appearance with Gay Byrne and Ken Dodd, Granada Television Studios, 25th November 1963 - part 2 (part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6)

[lestweforget5]

Hi love Sunward I’ve climbed. It’s so good and I really wish that I found it when it was finished, because it’s so annoying having to wait! 😂 Love the idea of a Curt and Dickie live au and Johns perspective of Millie arriving at Stalag Luft! (I’ve got a bit of an head cannon that one of the 100th saw her fall, so they all really think she is dead). Also I cannot get the AU idea out of my head of Curt and Dickie surviving, making it back to England, and moving into more non combat roles because they refuse to leave the war without Millie. Would love to see there reaction to Millie’s return, her closeness to Bradys crew and the rest of the 100th and especially her and Brady.

Hello, Nonnie! Thank you so much for sending me these wonderful ideas. When I got up this morning and saw 2 asks in my Inbox, I was expecting questions from the emoji ask game I reblogged the other day, and as much as I love those ask games, I was especially delighted by what I received, and they made me go 🥺🥺. I'm pretty sure that both asks are from you, so hopefully I'm correct and not conflating 2 very nice Nonnies together.

I'm really glad you're enjoying Sunward I've Climbed, and as an avid consumer of other people's wonderful stories, I completely understand your reaction when you have to wait for the next chapter. And hopefully, you'll enjoy the upcoming stories in the wider Sunward Verse just as much.

I'm definitely going to geek out about your ideas at very great length, so everything else is beneath the cut.

And given the time, I'll answer the other ask tomorrow. I'm going to have lengthy thoughts about that, as well.

And please--🥺--I love these AU ideas of yours, so please share more if you're comfortable doing so. I think they're genius.

As to your headcanon:

The sheer angst potential of this brilliant headcanon of yours is extreme, and I love it. Given the battle of survival all the other ships were undergoing simultaneously and that I don't think that any other forts went down in the TV Show right where M'lle Zig Zig did, it would probably have to be one of her crew that sees Millie's chute get strafed and then the beginning of what they would probably assume was a long, quick, and terrifying fall into oblivion.

The question would be WHO precisely would have seen her chute get strafed, and WHO saw it happen would influence whether that was behind their belief (as Murph notes) that she'd died at Munster.

So Millie was third out of the plane AFTER Hafer (the radio operator) and Gangwer (the ball-turret gunner). There was a long enough delay with McCusker (who came forward from the tail and did not bail from his assigned hatch) and Petrohelos talking about what to do with Clanton's body that Hoerr and Hambone could have easily been the next two out of the plane.

Say for the sake of the story, it was Hoerr and Hambone who went out next and thus would have been closest to Millie when her chute got strafed. Hambone was already badly injured and had to get free of the escape hatch, too, so he might not have noticed.

Hoerr, however, would have, I suspect. He was co-pilot, so he was probably scanning the skies, trying to count chutes like Brady was in the cockpit. Hoerr would know the standard order in which the crew was supposed to bail and from what exit, but there were irregularities with how the crew bailed that would have thrown off any guesswork of which of his crewmates was he watching die.

Hambone went out just before him; Solly, Brady, and Bucky all bailed after him, so with Clanton being dead, Hoerr could narrow it down very quickly to the enlisted (Petros, McCusker, Hafer, Gangwer, or Millie). But which one of them was it? If he could get a full chute count, he'd probably discount McCusker and maybe Petros, as well.

That leaves Hafer, Gangwer, and Millie. Gangwer was injured, and Hafer yelled over the radio that he was coming to help, and that probably, he might have thought, thrown off bailing order and who goes from what hatch. Moreover, normally, Millie would be first out of the bomb bay, but I could see him wondering if she might have delayed bailing to try to help.

“Eight-and-a-half,” Millie corrected, because she was tired and feeling a little ornery. “And like I’d stand bein’ left behind after what happened the last time my crew went up without me.” Tomorrow would be a month since Regensburg. One whole month. One long month. Sometimes she still thought she heard a snippet of Curt and Dickie’s voices in a crowd, saw a flash of their faces out of the corner of her eye. (She hadn’t touched gum in a month, even when one of the other girls had kindly offered her some. The last piece she had had, Dickie had given her.) “That wasn’t your fault, you know,” he said with a frown. “They‒”

So Hoerr could have concluded that it very well MIGHT HAVE been Millie's chute that he had witnessed being strafed and her resulting fall, but he could not have known for certain. But would he have said anything to Brady then? Hoerr knew how close the two of them were, and I could see him telling Brady out of full-disclosure, but I could also see him keeping this to himself because he doesn't know for sure, and then the news is like this festering secret inside him.

And, if he kept it to himself, maybe after Hambone arrives with news about Gangwer and NO news about Millie, Hoerr was working himself up to telling Brady, and then one afternoon, Millie arrives ...

I need to think about this headcanon of yours some more, but I very well might make it canon.

As to your AU idea:

That twist on Curt and Dickie surviving is fascinating and very plausible. I've already got some prison camp ideas for them, so I'm going with the other possibility: evasion.

I can't remember where Escape Kit went down in the show, whether it was in German-occupied territory or in Germany, and while the farther you get into occupied Europe, the harder evasion likely is, it's not impossible...

Especially with Dickie's injuries, it would probably be quite late in 1943, if not early 1944 before they returned to England. There were some evasion routes that would take escaping airmen down into Spain before they could be taken to England, but there was also an evasion route that crossed the English channel by boat. I'd have to check dates and maps to see what evasion route would be most likely for them in this scenario.

So according to Red Bowman's diary, Thorpe Abbotts knew Buck was alive by December of 1943, although they didn't know the same about Bucky by then as far as I know. It would have been like twice as long since Escape Kit had gone down, so Dennis and McKay, Curt's navigator and bombardier, would--I suspect--have appeared on the POW's list well before December, but with Curt and Dickie not on any lists, Thorpe Abbotts very well might have assumed them dead or MIA, which would only add to everyone's surprise when (A) they either show up on base one day fresh from debriefings in London or (B) Harding gets a call that they are down in London and the news spread around base.

I can't imagine Curt and Dickie's horror upon their return to Thorpe Abbotts to see the sea of unfamiliar faces (> replacement crews) and hear of the full losses sustained at Regensburg. And then to hear about Bremen and Munster on top of that, the sheer scale of losses from those two missions, YIKES. And to hear that not only Buck and Bucky went down, but that Millie went down, too--their favorite engineer and close friend--it's like 😱😭.

And depending upon when they got back to base, they might not have even known whether Millie was alive or not--and for Curt, whether Bucky was alive, as well. And that hurts. And then to hear from Kenny how hard she took their deaths and how she half-way blamed herself for what happened, wondering if things would have been different if she'd been with them, that really hurts. (Because I think Millie would have said many of the same things to Kenny later that she said to Brady in Algeria, which really makes her comments to Kenny about Our Baby "Do as I say, not as I do.")

And then even once Millie is known to be alive and at Stalag Luft III, it's not like Curt and Dickie could write to Millie. The situation would be even more impossible for them than for Kenny because they evaded capture by the Germans. It was slow, but Fonda could pass on news from Kenny in her own letters. It would probably be too dangerous to even mention Curt and Dickie by name.

I think Curt and Dickie would be relieved that she had another good crew to look out for her, but I can imagine Curt still being a bit proprietary over her. She's her own person and VERY capable at what she does, but still ... she's his engineer ... in the vein of what Curt shouts up to Brady in Stymie before Regensburg (“You’d better bring me my engineer back in one piece!”).

Curt and Dickie would also be absolutely horrified at what happened to her post-Munster and pre-Stalag Luft III. Even if she weren't their friend and their engineer, what was done to her was horrifying and wrong (and violated the Geneva Convention, I'd think) on so many levels. And given his personality, I could almost see Curt going red in the face, blowing smoke out his ears, and being like "Let me at 'em!"

I think Curt would be surprised by Millie's relationship with Brady but not disapproving, though I imagine there would be some vetting and an ... intense ... shovel talk involved. Sort of the overprotective big-brother vibe, especially since Curt was like 7.5 years older than her. Dickie--I think you could easily go either way on whether he has an inkling about Millie and Brady even as far back as the trip over from America in June 1943.

“Once she’s done dancing with Brady …” Dickie added mischievously. Talking with the two boys was like interacting with older brothers. One of them was always as happy to side with her to tease the other as they were to turn right back around and tease her if they had half a chance. Turnabout’s fair play, and what’s good for the goose is good for the gander, and all that.   “Now don’t go puttin’ it like that, Dickie,” Millie protested, infinitely glad that the three were just talking loudly enough to be heard over plane noises and not using the interphone. “Makes it sound like he’s sweet on me or I’m sweet on him or somethin’. He’s nice. He’s a gentleman, and his hands don’t wander, and we like talkin’ about music, and when we’re done dancin’, he buys me a coke, and that’s that. Nothin’ to write home ‘bout.” The last thing she wanted was any rumors starting about her friendship with a lieutenant. “I’m just teasing,” replied Dickie, slightly apologetically.

That would be the key passage for judging what Dickie knows. Is he teasing her just because? Or does he suspect something, gently tease her over that, and then back off when she doesn't respond how he might expect?

Regardless of whether he knew or not, Dickie probably leaves all the loud reactions to Curt, on whom he is generally a steadying influence, but he probably gives Brady his own shovel talk, and given what they say about the quiet ones, that might be the scarier of the two ... discussions.

[karltface]

Yeah, I can get a post out of this.

It's the Creepy Can, from Readers Digest in 1994.

Now, this came from a thrift store, so there are no guarantees, but it promises some interesting things. The 90s were a bit of a boom period for rubber bugs, after all. And mini books are great for the Halloween trinket fund. The electronics in the lid have a sealed (and very dead) battery, unfortunately. Let's dig in, though!

I'll open with the bugs, because I'm Karl. The spider is either a knockoff or knockee of a larger specimen I've encountered in the past. She's accompanied by possibly the worst scorpion I've ever seen, which is delightful. That's my money's worth right there.

I'm short one here, but I was pleased to get a fiery red lizard. Reptiles and amphibians used to be Halloween staples, and while I'm glad they're no longer "scary" to many people, I think they can still be spooky.

The laced moray, however, is an anomaly. I personally own three movies where eels are played for creep factor, but they almost never appear in that context with Halloween stuff. Truly fascinating, and a damn fine addition to the Kickass Nature Toys shelf.

Curses! That classic John Speirs art on the can was what caught my eye in the first place. I even have a spare frame that would've fit this.

Bob is entirely absent. I assume he was made of tagboard, and tied together with thread, if the instructions are to be believed. Oh well.

And then there are the Bone-Chilling Books. 10 pages each, they're chock full of kid-friendly jokes and puzzles. I'm just gonna touch on one from each.

I sincerely hope you can read these. The only limerick in Petrifying Poems concerns a monster with detachable eyeballs. An inspired choice.

Falling under the "scary" half of "Hairiest, Scariest Puzzles" is this lovely spread of simplistic crawly stuff. It's actually a trick question: those aren't regular spiders, they're clearly spider monsters, and that means all of them belong.

Good Lord, Skully is terrifying. It's the pointed teeth and bloodshot eyes, I think. The Visit to Count Dracula is just a Halloween party at Castle Dracula, but we do get to see all the monsters getting ready. I dig both mummies and sewing gags.

Monster Riddles is pretty standard fare for kids' stuff, but gets points for hitting deep cuts like this one. I remember buying entire paperbacks full of this crap. There's gold in there.

Ghostly Goodies, I'm keeping. It's a full-on recipe book, with stuff like simple scones, chocolate oatmeal balls, and this fun twist on good ol' rice pudding. Ricotta, you say? Bet it tastes like cheesecake.

There's a poster in here too, but it's almost 2 feet wide and just over 4 inches tall, which makes it a nightmare to photograph. It's a nice cemetery backdrop, dotted with a couple dozen monster and skeleton stickers. And since I've hit the image limit, I can at least tell you you're not missing much. Maybe I can use a hair dryer to remove the stickers and have another background; it's glossy paper, after all.

So yeah. Out-of-season Halloween goodness warms my heart. The cheaper, the better.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I was going to reblog an old post of mine about Producer Vin from the Elis/John radio show because I have an update to it, but I realized that I actually want to reference several different old posts, but only a little bit from each. So instead of reblogging, I'm going to copy-paste a bit from three posts I've made in the last few months:

I also enjoyed Producer Vin hearing comedian football mentioned and immediately asking about Andy Zaltzman. There wasn’t any context from before or explanation from after that clip to explain why he’d asked, it sounds like Vin just likes Andy was impressed that they play football with him sometimes. Which is pretty cool. I think Vin’s mentioned before that he’s a cricket fan, and I am aware that Andy Zaltzman is weirdly, legitimately big among cricket fans, since he does so much cricket commentary and collation of stats. I’m hoping I’m right in remembering that I’ve heard Vin mention being into cricket, as otherwise that’s just an assumption I’m making based on his race. But I think he’s mentioned it. I quite like Producer Vin at this point. Earlier in the radio show, I was a bit disappointed by how their back-and-forth with the producers seemed a lot less fun than what I’m used to, on The Bugle where Producer Chris (and Tom before him) is a beloved figure on the show. At some point I worked out that it’s a bit of a different relationship, an independent podcast vs a live radio show. The radio producers are actually accountable to the station to make sure the comedians are saying things that will be good for listenership, so there were more interruptions that were genuine rebukes for going too far off on rants that would be inaccessible to a casual listener, whereas on a show that’s a podcast first, you know that everyone has tuned in because they like Andy Zaltzman’s inaccessible rants. I’ve never heard Chris Skinner try to curtail any of Andy’s pun runs, for any reason besides to preserve his own psychological stability. Having said that, after the first 100 episodes or so they settle into a rhythm, interactions with producers got a lot more natural and more fun. I’m at episode 200 now and Producer Vin has recently started speaking up at times during the chat to hold them to account, not for boring radio standards but for contradicting stuff they’ve said before, which can be pretty funny at times. I like him. I think he’s more naturally funny than the previous producer. Knowing he apparently approves of Andy Zaltzman, for whatever reason, makes me like him more. Oh, and I also recently heard an episode in which Harry Potter came up, and John Robins said he’s a Gryffindor, and I have not identified anyone’s Hogwarts House for about fifteen years, but the years I spent doing so instantly came back to me and I looked at my phone and said “absolutely the fuck not, 100% Ravenclaw, few cases are this clear cut.” And then a few weeks later they were on with Producer Vin and John referenced the recent episode in which he’d called himself a Gryffindor, and Vin immediately said that was one of the episodes when he was absent, which he knows because if he’d been there he would never have let him get away with that claim, he’d have interrupted to say no, 100% Ravenclaw. And I looked at my phone and said thank you. I like this guy.

...

I was listening to an episode of the John/Elis radio show today, and they were talking about when you accidentally send a text message to the wrong person, and Elis said David O'Doherty has a song like that. Which he does, but what surprised me is that the producer Vin was the one who immediately jumped in and supplied the title and summary of the song. I’d been thinking for some time that Vin can hold his own with comedians surprisingly well for a guy who’s not involved in comedy (to be honest he’ll sometimes get to the joke or punchline in a situation faster than Elis does). A while ago I heard him express interest in Andy Zaltzman, and I assumed this must be because he’s a cricket fan (I have, since making that post, heard him mention cricket several times, so I’ve confirmed that that’s not just an assumption I invented based on his race), because he’s come to this comedy radio show via radio and music, not via comedy. But now he’s out there referencing David O'Doherty songs, and I’d like to apologize to Producer Vin for not expecting him to know about comedy. The song about sending a text to the wrong person isn’t a particularly deep O'Doherty cut, he plays it a lot, but still. Impressive reference, if you happen to be the sort of person who’s impressed by Chocolate Milk Gang references, which I am. Made me like Vin even more, I’m going to miss him when they move to the BBC.

...

Further update in the running thread of “I Like Vinay Joshi, the Radio X producer, even though early on the frequent interference from radio producers annoyed me, and I realized it was because fundamentally they were trying to mould the comedy chat into a radio show and I just want it to be a comedy show, but since Vin took over I’ve found it less annoying, I mean obviously he’s still moulding things into proper radio because that’s his job, but he also tends to be slower to shut down the comedy riffs and lets it unfold a bit more naturally, plus his own interjections tend to be a lot funnier than ones from other producers, and every once in a while he’ll make a comedy reference that makes me think the reason it works so well with him is he is also inclined toward comedy and so can see where they’re going with something comedic more easily” – I have a further update in that running thread: He just made a reference to Simon Amstell’s stand-up that went over even John’s head, even though John Robins has mentioned several times being a fan of the sitcom Grandma’s House, so you’d think he’d know that. As a side note, I wouldn’t have had to actually hear John Robins say he really likes the sitcom Grandma’s House, I could have just assumed that based on everything else about John Robins. But in the episode I’m listening to now, John did not pick up on Vin’s fairly subtle dig at Amstell’s penchant for confusing drugs-based stand-up stories, a reference that I appreciated because despite also being a fan of Grandma’s House and most of Amstell’s stand-up, I also find the drug stories annoying.

And here's the update, from the final link of the final episode of their Radio X show:

Ohhhh, I see. Thank you Vin, that makes a lot of sense and explains all of the confusion. Not sure why you waited until the very last link of the whole show to clear that up, but I'm glad you did.

I know there are literally hundreds more episodes on the BBC, but it still feels like a significant end of an era because by the end, it was noticable to me how the show was funnier in the episodes with Vin there than the ones that had someone else producing, because Vin had started jumping in so often and was so funny in his own right. I've tried looking up the difference between the BBC era and the Radio X era, and everything I've read seems to suggest the BBC is a slightly less good version - sometimes people actually saying it's less good, sometimes just describing it in a way that makes it sound that way (no music and therefore significantly less chat about music; less of the structure with links; "edges smoothed out"; generally more mature versions of the comedians, which is a good thing for life in general since you should be that when you're older but makes for less fun radio; and no Vin). I'm not sure I want to jump straight into a slightly less good version of the radio show I just finished. Which was, if not 100% solid gold for every single one of the 330 hours (I just checked the total time for me, that more than I was expecting), pretty fucking great for many of them and still good the rest of the time. I'm going to go listen to Isy Suttie's audiobook about not wanting to grow up.

Also, as a final reaction to that audio clip, I can't end this post without saying, awwww. Aww. Producer Vin. Now I see why you functioned so well as an audience stand-in on the show. Aw.

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99 okay more of them because they're amazing.

Clarissa grunted as her corset was tied. "Mindy, dontcha think this is a bit too tight?" Clarissa asked as she let out a breath.

"You're meeting the other royals today your highness. You must look your best," Mindy explained before walking out of the room.

Clarissa sighed. Ever since she had married Jacob 6 months ago, she's been pressured to be different. To change her personality. She was queen now, but she had no idea how to do that.

She and Jacob had met when she was 16.... and because of him she chose to stay here while her crew went back home.

She was 21 now. She had stayed for so long. But sometimes she wasn't sure jf this was what she wanted.....

"Are you ready, my dear?" Jacob asked as he walked into their shared bedroom.

"I assume I am," Clarissa replied.

And with that, the couple walked through the castle and into the dining hall where King John and Queen Carolyn had been seated.

Clarissa could've sworn she saw King John look at her in ways only Jacob was allowed.

She pushed it aside and sat down.

"Its so lovely to meet you, Queen Carolyn," Jacob stated to make small talk.

"Oh its absolutely grand to meet you as well! I've never really had anyone to talk to these past few days, what with the wedding and the-" Carolyn cut herself off when she glanced at her husband. "I.... nevermind, Your Majesty," Carolyn muttered with a small smile.

"So Carolyn, what is it you like to do for fun?" Clarissa asked with a smile.

"Oh well I love to sing! I'm not very good at anything else, but of course no one can be good at everything," Carolyn joked, earning a glare from her husband.

"I'm sorry, king John, is there a problem?" Clarissa asked.

"Of course not your highness! Say, didn't you have an accent?" John asked, attempting to change the subject.

"I believe you owe your wife an apology, what with those Nast glares you're sending her way. If ye have something ta say, you'd better say it," Clarissa ranted as her accent came back.

"I will not take this disrespect from a pirate," good day your majesty's," John stated before harshly grabbing Carolyn's arm and dragging her away.

"He's hiding something Jake. I can feel it," Clarissa muttered before crossing her arms.

Two years passed;

"Clarissa, don't lift that!" Jacob called as he ran up to his heavily pregnant wife, attempting to carry a box into the nursery.

"I can do things myself Jake!" Calrissa stated in a huff.

"You're not supposed to carry heavy things!" Jacob argued.

"I know, but we have to clean up before the brennans get here," Clarissa replied.

"That's what we have servants for, darling," Jacob stated.

"I don't like when they do things for me. They have their own problems," Clarissa muttered as she finished putting some of the last few details in the nursery.

"Your Grace's? The Brennan's are here," one of the servants spoke out.

"We'll be right down!" Jacob called before the couple made their way downstairs.

Clarissa walked quickly up to Carolyn and gave her a hug.

"Where are the little ones?" Clarissa asked before two small toddlers waked out from behind their mother's dress.

John rolled his eyes before wlaking over to Jacob.

"Hello Alistar, hello Alison. It's nice to have you here today!" Clarissa stated, gently as she knelt down as best she could.

A small Alison curtseyed. "Its nice to see you Auntie Clare!" She smiled.

"Its nice to see you too little one! Say, I have some cookies in the kitchen. I'm sure if you went to get some for you and your brother, our cook wouldn't mind," Clarissa smirked before sending Alison off.

She turned to Alistar who was still hiding behind his mother.

"Al, honey, be kind. Say hello," Carolyn scolded gently.

"Hello," the young prince muttered before hiding again.

"I'm sure you and my baby will be great friends, prince Alistar," Clarissa smiled before standing back up, with some assistance from Carolyn.

[midchelle]

What songs do you think were written by John with Paul in mind at least? I know there’s so many of Paul’s which are arguably about John but because John’s life was cut short we only have his songs from the 70’s which seem pretty straightforward in being about Yoko and Jealous Guy seems to be one of those despite Paul thinking otherwise.

There are a few Dakota demos floating around that seem to be about Paul, or at least The Beatles, but I think in general John kept that stuff off his albums. I don't think it was a headspace he enjoyed being in. Paul probably didn't, either, but when he writes a song he enters a fugue state, comes out of it, and examines what he's made like an archaeologist studying the ruins of a prehistoric society: It's possible that this was made in response to An Emotion, but we're not sure. More information is required.

The Beatles A lot of the songs people think are about Paul assume that he's in love with him, and while I might agree with that to some extent, it's not a very good way of doing history. So here's the ones I think are probably about him without assuming that.

Day Tripper (1965) Expanding brain meme where the top tier is 'write a song about how he sucks and make him sing lead on it.' Makes you wish for a world where they stayed together during the seventies and John sang harmony on Too Many People.

Nowhere Man (1965) It's a very Paul kind of songwriting move to write a song about yourself and frame it as 'so there's this other guy I've heard of who's a total fuckup, not me though.' So is it about John? Is it about Paul? Actually, it's about both of them.

These are two different people. And one of them, believe it or not, can't see me at all.

And Your Bird Can Sing (1966) Process of elimination, it's probably about Paul. I know Marianne says it's about Mick, but I don't know if John cared about Mick like that. His bird couldn't even sing at that point. He was still going out with Jean Shrimpton's little sister. There's another theory that it's about Frank Sinatra, which I thought sounded kind of plausible, but it's probably about Paul.

Come Together (1969) You think you're just moseying along this beautiful, lazy river of agreeable nonsense, and then he hits you with 'got to be good looking 'cause he's so hard to see.' Wonder what that's about.

Post-Beatles

I Found Out (1970) It's a song about becoming disillusioned with things you once believed in. Paul is literally mentioned by name.

How Do you Sleep? (1971) Yeah we all know.

Jealous Guy (1971) Maybe it is a little bit about Paul, I don't know. There must be some reason why he thought that song was about him. It could just be cope. There's only one way for us to know for sure: FBI, release the seventies John Lennon wiretaps!

I Know (I Know) (1973) I've already mentioned the riff at the beginning, but let's talk about:

#9 Dream (1974) It's been ten years since The Beatles broke America, and he was referencing back to A Hard Day's Night with the promo for the album. He's clearly feeling a little nostalgic for early Beatlemania, before he was so cruelly forced to learn what money is and how shares work. If not directly about Paul, it is about their shared past. It's about playing music with someone you loved, so long ago. It literally came to him in a dream, the most Paul McCartney songwriting behaviour that there is. Look at this:

(Just Like) Starting Over (1980) Me when I write a song about rekindling a dormant relationship with someone I love while drawing on the artists that influenced me and my songwriting partner when we were young and also name-dropping both his hugely successful second band and one of his songs: it's not about Paul.

[themsource]

Misery

I was kind of shy sharing my OC Misery but I feel that I want to now. He's pictured above with my insert OC Oreo that I've had since childhood. Oh, what to say about Misery? You've probably noticed that he looks like Sans from Undertale or better yet an Alternate Universe version. Well he looks and sounds like Sans for a reason.

If interested the explanation on him is below the cut.

Getting a bit personal Sans is a big comfort character of mine. I enjoy pairing him up with everybody from other characters to inserts, etc. I like Sans so much I can't help wanting him to be loved and get it where it's available no matter the ship or pairing. (Kinda, haven't been sold on Soriel, I really enjoy them being best buds though and I don't really want to ruin that) And yes, that means even having him share in my suffering and pain too as a kindred soul and comfort blanket.

That's where Misery comes in.

He assumes the form of Sans for the explict purpose of torturing me emotionally and easily getting me to lower my guard and get behind my defenses. He also represents how toxic and damaging the fandom (The English side - in general) has become to me, but how I can never quit it because I love it too much. Misery's name is exactly who he is. Whenever I get too happy or peaceful he rears his ugly head to stir up trouble and to *Feed*. He drinks determination and confidence out of me which in turn stains his teeth black as a sign of contamination. Coincidently his goal on making me miserable is his own form of love too.

Misery is literally the poster child of awful relationships.

Some facts I've come up with for him is the fact he's affixed to my soul so he can't be killed unless I am. He can be subdued, beaten back by others and myself in very rare moments of strength but he always comes right back. Like an addiction. Misery is addicted to my suffering and going too long without can push him to unbearable levels. (I won't clarify what that exactly means for me) He can enlarge in size, change form, travel and create my nightmares, everything and anything to damage me he's capable of doing.

His coloration is because he's mossy, covered head to toe in the stuff like a bodysuit while wearing frayed black billowy pants. You can't see it in the images provided but he does have a white handprint sprayed out in the middle of his ribs revealing white ivory bone. This is the sign of our connection. (It's my/Oreo's handprint) He uses sickly yellow energy for 'magic' similar to the color of his eyes which are stars, stars to lord over me the hope I crave but denying me it.

There was an OC 'brother' I made for him in the form of Papyrus called Bitterness to represent all the darkness and hatred inside of me but I never got around to creating him. Every time I tried I felt sick and Misery metaphorically raised his head again lol

I've been writing this simply because I wanted to share him and maybe lower the weight he has piled on my shoulders from the fear that no one cares or is interested in my stuff. (Which logically I know isn't true but since when does the heart and mind ever line up properly lol)

Um, bit of an adult topic. His love does show in physical ways (horrible awful addictive ways) which means he does 'do the do' in my mind. But not in normal ways. Try to picture Ero Guro artist Takato Yamamoto's work combined with 1982s John Carpenter's The Thing (Yes the monster's assimilation - it's not pretty at all). This is a unity of pain and pleasure to the Nth degree like the Cenobite's like to talk about lol I have reasons for why I picture this type of thing but I don't feel comfortable publicly disclosing that sorry.

Anyways, I think that's about it! If there's more I remember or if someone ever asks me questions I'll come back and edit/add it in just as I will on Deviantart where I've cross posted this.

If you read this thank you. I hope it was interesting in a way.

-M

[jackies-wearing-khakis]

Marriage and Murder Pt. 1 (Shelby!Reader)

a/n: I'm a bit disappointed I had to post this in two parts, but alas, the original one-shot was too long for Tumblr.

summary: Things get progressively darker as you try to survive Tommy and Grace's wedding night.

words: 3101

warnings: Themes of drinking and sexual assault.

 "(y/n), for fuck's sake, hurry up!" Polly shouted from the betting room. She, Ada, Finn, John, and Esme were dressed in formal clothes, waiting for you to get ready.

  "Five minutes, Pol!" you called from your bedroom.

  "I swear to God," your aunt said under her breath as she checked her watch. "It's her own brother's wedding and she's decided to take her sweet time."

  "What's taking her so long anyway?" Finn asked, bored to death.

  "She probably looks ugly as hell and can't stand to face it," John whispered, earning a chuckle from Finn and a smack to the back of the head from Ada. 

  "I don't care 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 she's doing, if that girl's not down here soon we're leaving without her." Polly huffed.

  What Polly and the others didn't understand was that you were by 𝘯𝘰 means taking your sweet time. If anything, you were practically tripping over yourself to try and find a dress to wear to Tommy and Grace's wedding. You'd accidentally ripped the dress you were supposed to wear the night before when you'd gotten your arm stuck in one of the sleeves. Now, you were caught between a rock and a hard place; go downstairs and face humiliation, or stay in your room and face Polly. You could tell today was going to be stressful.

  You were legitimately considering cutting off the sleeves of your dress entirely when Polly came bursting into the room without warning.

  "Pol, wait!" you shouted, instinctively holding your arms in front of your head for self-defense.

  "I don't give a shit if you're ready or not, we're going," Polly growled. She grabbed your arm, unknowingly pulling at the rip in your dress. With one strong yank, your aunt had doubled the size of the tear. The two of you froze in shock at the damaged material.

  "𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴, (y/n)," Polly muttered.

  "I know, it's awful." you sighed.

  As you stood there, Finn peeked his head into your room. Immediately, he saw your dress and gasped.

  "𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, (y/n)." Finn chuckled. "What the hell did you do?"

  "Go away!" you shouted angrily. You grabbed one of your shoes and chucked it at your brother, hitting him in the shoulder. He stumbled out of the room laughing.

  You threw yourself face-first onto your bed in utter despair, sighing dramatically.

  "Oh, Pol, this'll be the death of me," you whined, your voice muffled by the covers. Your aunt rolled her eyes as she lit a cigarette.

  "Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Polly spoke. "We'll figure something out."

  It wasn't long before Ada and Esme had made their way upstairs and into your room. The four of you sat in silence, quietly brainstorming. Suddenly, Esme stood up.

  "I've got a dress that might work," she said, and immediately rushed to go fetch it. Your face lit up, and you excitedly hopped off your bed to go with your sister-in-law. Ada and Polly exchanged glances.

  You followed Esme into her and John's old room, where she was digging through her closet.

  "Now, (y/n), you're a bit smaller than I am, so hopefully this won't look too awkward on you," Esme said, tossing clothes in every direction.      

  "Now, if only I could find the damn thing."

  "What's it look like?" you asked.

  "See for yourself," Esme responded, pulling out a green shapeless dress with beaded lace embroidery.

  You gawked at the beauty of the thing; it was an excellent balance of elegance and youth. Not too modest, not too sexy; it was superbly tasteful.

 "Oh my God, Esme, it's perfect." you breathed. 

  "Hurry up and try it on!" she urged, pushing the dress into your arms. With that, she rushed out of her room.

  To your relief, the dress fit perfectly. You barely had any time to show it off to the others before Polly had rushed everyone out of the house and into the cramped car, practically dragging you all by the wrists. 

  The five of you slipped into the chapel quietly as you could. Tommy gave you all dirty looks as you scooted into the pews one by one. 

  "Where the fuck've you been?" Arthur whispered to Polly as she sat down next to him.

  "There was a complication," Polly answered. "Nothing worth worrying about now."

  "Complication my arse. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 one took forever to get changed." John scoffed, pointing his thumb towards you.

  "It wasn't my fault, the dress ripped!" you whined. 

  "It was 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 your fault, (y/n)," Finn added smugly.

  "I swear to God if you three don't 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘱 I'll drag you all home by the ears." Polly threatened under her breath. Nobody had anything to say about your dress after that.

  John grumbled as Grace entered the chapel.

  "Here come the fucking cavalry, late as usual." he griped.

  "I don't get it, why's everyone hate them?" you asked in a whisper.

  "Well, first of all, they weren't supposed to wear their uniforms. Just goes to show they're disrespectful bastards." John whispered back.

  "𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺? That's all it is?" you questioned.

  John sighed as he tried to find the right words for the situation.

  "Listen, (y/n), just stay away from them. Half those men are self-righteous pricks who'll take advantage of you if you give 'em the chance," he warned.

 "Hush." Esme chimed in, squeezing John's hand. "They're exchanging vows."

  Your gaze turned to the men in red uniform as Tommy and Grace stood at the altar. You accidentally locked eyes with a boy who couldn't have been older than twenty. Not sure what to do, you smiled politely at him. To your surprise, he smiled back.

   Your exchange was cut off by the sound of Jeremiah Jesus's voice filling the room.

  "I now pronounce you man and wife." he declared, and everyone in the chapel applauded as Tommy and Grace shared a kiss. You couldn't help but feel a pang of pride as you watched your brother smile at his new wife. There was something magical about the way he was able to just 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹 in her presence, especially since you couldn't think of another day Tommy wasn't trying to take over Birmingham.

  𝘖𝘩, 𝘛𝘰𝘮, you thought wistfully, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ��𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦?

   Unfortunately, the warmth of the wedding ceremony quickly faded as everyone gathered outside for the family photo. Nearly ten minutes went by as the Shelby clan struggled to organize themselves into a tight group.

   You initially tried to stand behind Polly and Arthur to be near the other women, but that plan quickly failed when you realized you were too short to stand behind either of them. It was a tremendous effort to try to force yourself in between them, and the result left you in a painfully awkward position where you were left standing sideways. The ultimate solution was to have you stand with John's children; you were mortified.

  "Christ, I look like a 𝘬𝘪𝘥," you whined, showing the picture to Finn. The two of you sat together at the base of the stairs in Tommy's house, trying your best to avoid the crowds of people wandering the halls..

  "It's not that big a deal," he said plainly, taking the picture in his hands. "Nobody really cares."

  "It's a big deal to me." you mumbled.

   You could see John and Arthur approaching from a distance. By the looks of it, they'd already gotten their hands on some champagne.

  "Finn. Tommy wants a meeting in the kitchen." Arthur spoke as he passed by.

  "I should probably go with him." Finn sighed as he stood up.

  "Wait, take me with you!" you pleaded, grabbing onto his arm. "I've got nobody else to talk to."

  Finn quickly leaned over the stairs to check if Arthur and John had gone. Once he saw the coast was clear, he turned back to you.

  "Fine. But you shouldn't say anything," he advised.

  "Wasn't planning on it."

  You and Finn had assumed the meeting would be family only, but as you snuck your way into the kitchen you were surprised to find a swarm of Blinders men crowding the room. You instinctively stuck close to your brother, trying your best to avoid bumping into anyone. The two of you slowly hovered towards the center of the room, where the immediate family gathered. There Tommy stood in the midst of it all with a cigar in his hands. 

   "Right. Today is my wedding day." he began, and the room fell silent.

   "Yeah, and you said there'd be no uniforms, Tom." John interrupted, and a few people murmured in agreement.

  "In spite of there being bad blood, I'll have none of it on my carpet." Tommy continued, ignoring John's comment. "For Grace's sake, nothing will go wrong today."

   Tommy began circling the room as he spoke, making sure to lock eyes with every man present.

  "And if any of you fuckers do 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 to embarrass her, kin, cousins, your kids, your horses, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.."

  Just as he was about to finish his sentence, Tommy noticed you standing there next to Finn. He froze for a moment, then furrowed his brows. You cursed under your breath.

  "What are you doing here?" Tommy asked, but it felt more like an accusation.

   You realized every man in the room had their eyes on you. You shifted uncomfortably.

  "It's a family meeting, isn't it?" you grumbled. "Last I checked I was a Shelby."

   Tommy sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes in annoyance.

  "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵? I'm glad you're here because there's something I should say." he began. You crossed your arms defensively.

  "You've been wild these past few months, (y/n), don't think I haven't noticed."

  "So?" you scoffed.

  "𝘚𝘰, I won't have any of it tonight. I swear, if I find out you've been drinking, flirting, or doing 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨  that might damage this family's reputation, I assure you that you'll live to regret it. 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥?"

  You didn't know how to feel about Tommy's words. In a way, he was right; you'd been drinking more than usual as of late, not to mention fooling around with some of the boys you were going to school with. You didn't understand why that was such a big deal though, especially since you were a saint compared to your brothers. Really, the whole thing seemed unfair.

  "Yeah, I understand." you finally answered. "I'll just spend the night boring myself to death while you boys do whatever you want." 

  "That's the spirit." he shot back.

  "Tommy, what about snow?" Isiah asked from across the room. You silently thanked him for taking the attention off you.

  "There'll be no cocaine," Tommy answered sternly. A few men in the room sighed.

  Tommy took the opportunity to get back to his speech.

  "No sport. No racing. No sucking the petrol out of their cars. You give them 𝘯𝘰 excuses to look down their noses."

  The room was uneasy. Nobody was sure what to think as Tommy stood there, almost desperately trying to talk sense into his men.

  "But the main thing is, you fuckers.." he began.

  "Why are you mad at 𝘶𝘴, Tom?" Finn mumbled.

  "..in spite of provocation from the cavalry.."

  Tommy walked along the line of men standing around him, getting close to Arthur, then John, then Finn, then finally you.

  "..no fighting. 𝘕𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨!" 

  And with that, everyone was sent out of the kitchen.

  The party started slow, and you found yourself wandering around the house aimlessly with nothing to do. Everywhere you went people were already drinking, and a part of you wanted nothing more than to join them. The other, more sensible part remembered Tommy's warning and decided to avoid alcohol for the night. As much as you wanted to piss him off and indulge yourself, you knew getting drunk would only prove that you were irresponsible. 

  Dinner in the great hall was an absolute disaster. You sat between Finn and Ada, who were both caught up in their own conversations. You were starving, and Tommy and Grace had been taking a suspiciously long amount of time to get ready. Even after they'd finally come downstairs, Arthur had to get through his speech before anyone could eat.

  "Now, I'm not one for speeches." Arthur began. The poor man looked like a deer trapped in headlights.

  "Sing then!" John shouted. Esme grabbed his arm wearily.

  "I've got a speech written down here. but it's not everything I want to say." Arthur droned on. You buried your head in your hands.

  "Arthur, just read what we've written down," Tommy said softly.

  "I will, Tom. But first, a few words from the heart." 

  Arthur gently placed the small piece of paper into one of his pockets, then cleared his throat.

   "𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬." Tommy breathed.

   "I'd just like to say that my brother helped me survive hard times. Trouble in my head.."

  As Arthur gave his speech, you noticed Polly staring at a man who sat opposite her. He was older than she was and wore a dark suit that matched his serious expression.

  "Who's that?" You leaned over and whispered to Ada.

  "Kaledin something," she whispered back. "Don't bother talking politics with him, I've already tried."

  Unlike Ada, you weren't interested in having political debates with strangers. Still, there was an air of mystery surrounding the man. Something about him made it impossible to look away, even when he met your eyes with his. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

  Arthur's trainwreck of a speech was eventually cut short by Tommy. You felt bad for your eldest brother, but you were desperate to eat. Polly gave you a disapproving look as you scarfed down your food, but you didn't care; you were too hungry to act like a lady.

  An hour had passed since the food was served, and by then everyone had made their way into the ballroom.

  John and Arthur had set up a boxing area outside with Tommy's reluctant permission. After hovering around Polly for nearly half an hour, you finally gave in and went outside to watch the fights.  

  You were used to seeing your brothers fight, so not much could faze you in the boxing ring. Tonight was different, though. The men had such anger in them as they landed their punches. It was almost disturbing to watch Finn get knocked into the ground by a man in a red uniform.

  "Gruesome, isn't it?" A voice asked from behind you. You turned around to face the very same cavalry boy you'd locked eyes within the chapel. Only now, he was standing a mere foot away from you and the two of you were practically alone.

   "William. Fraser." the young man said, extending his hand.

  You took his hand in yours and shook it. The dim light from the boxing ring illuminated your faces, and you were able to get good looks at each other. To your excitement, not only was he young, he was 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦.

  "(y/n). Lee." you introduced yourself, lying through your teeth. You were done being a Shelby today.

  "Mm. I thought you were a gypsy." William spoke. You raised your eyebrows in amusement.

  "Really? How could you tell?" you asked.

 "It's the dress. Very... 𝘣𝘰𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘯," he replied.

 "It was a gift, it's not mine," you assured, flattening the dress out. You suddenly felt a pang of self-consciousness.

  "Oh, well it suits you well enough." And with that, William placed his hand on your waist. 

   "What are you doing?" you asked, chuckling nervously. 

  "Enjoying myself."

  He slowly started to pull you into a kiss when you noticed Finn in the boxing ring. Another one of the cavalry boys had landed a particularly heavy blow onto his gut, and he fell onto the ground in defeat. You pushed William away to watch the scene.

  "You know him?" William asked.

  "He's my brother," you responded quietly, not taking eyes off Finn.

  "He fights well enough for a boy his size, I didn't expect him to last as long as he did." William retorted.

  "He's really good, actually. Likes it a lot, too," you said, relaxing as you saw Finn get up and shake his opponent's hand.

  William took the opportunity to pick up where you left off and started to wrap his arms around your waist. You hesitated and stepped back.

  "Wait, we shouldn't. Not in front of them." you gestured towards the crowds of people who were watching the fights.

  "Good point." the young man hummed into your neck.

  You lead William to a fairly secluded area of the gardens. There was a small, wooden bench that was nestled in between some of the bushes that lined the back wall of Tommy's mansion. The two of you sat together; there was an uncomfortable sexual tension between you.

  William kissed you slowly as his hands wandered around your torso. You kept trying to cut him off, but he was persistent. If you would grab his arm, he would use the other one to pull you closer. If you turned away, he would kiss your neck. 

  "William I don't think we should do this," you whispered.

  "Don't worry, love. nobody's around. You won't get in trouble." he assured.

  "𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, just stop." you pleaded.

  "Relax, I promise I'll make it worth your while.

  With that, you'd had enough. You started smacking your palm against his shoulder, and he finally separated. 

  "𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵? I thought you wanted this!" William snapped.

  "Why didn't you stop?" you asked him with a hurt look on your face. "I was 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 you to stop!"

   "𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯, don't act like you didn't want it. You took me out here for a reason." he countered.

  "I didn't think it would happen so fast!" you shouted.

 William huffed, stood up, then brushed himself off.

  "𝘎𝘺𝘱𝘴𝘺 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩." he spat, then walked away.

  "What the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 did you call me?" you shot back. "Do you even know who the 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 I am?"

   William froze in place and turned around. He gave you a dark look as he lit a cigarette. The red glow of the tiny embers illuminated his face.

  "My name is (y/n) 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 Shelby." you hissed, and William's expression changed. 

  "You're related to the groom?" he realized.

  "I'm his sister," you spat.

  The young man sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. 

  "𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵.. I had no idea. Let me make it up to you." he began, but you were already leaving.

  "𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶." you scoffed as you passed him. 

You made your way back to the ballroom, leaving William standing there alone.

 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, you thought, heading straight for a bottle of wine.

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Carenzo | Caroline Forbes x Enzo St. John (The Vampire Diaries)

"Thinking of jumping down and trying to walk across it?" Enzo asks from Caroline's right, sitting beside her on the stairwell. His tone is light, joking, one that she hadn't quite realized she'd missed all these months they've spent apart. 

She sniffs, sucking in a deep breath that only makes her chest hurt, and lifts her head up. She keeps her eyes straight ahead, staring at the buildings stretching out in front of her as far as she can see before the snow makes it impossible. 

"The thought crossed my mind," she admits, cracking a slight smile. "With vamp speed, we could probably get to the airport just in time. Compel a pilot if the flight's cancelled." She looks at him, blinking once or twice to see him better as she pulls a teasing look, nudging his shoulder. "Or we could just get you to fly it, Captain Lorenzo."

Enzo chuckles at the emphasis she puts on his name. It eases a little bit of the twisting in her stomach, her smile a little more genuine as she watches him duck his head for a moment.

"I actually didn't go by my right name back then," he tells her, and she raises her eyebrows, but he shakes it off. His eyes and his smile turns sad as he gazes at her. "I'm sorry about all of this, Caroline. I know you wanted to be on that flight."

She did. She needed to be on it. Lizzie and Josie are counting on her. Were counting on her, and now she's probably going to have to let them down. Again. She had told herself she would be there, especially after everything that's happened with them lately. 

"It just wasn't supposed to be like this," she says, shaking her head. "I was only supposed to be gone a few months. I wasn't—wasn't supposed to miss Christmas, or their birthday, or—"

She clamps her mouth shut, her throat aching like it's made of sandpaper.

"I just wanted to be there."

There are only so many holidays she's going to get with them. Even without the merge, she was always going to outlive them, and she's hated the thought since the day they were born. But it's so much worse now. 

"They have six years left," she says quietly, her voice shaking and her chin wobbling. "And I am running out of options. I just—I just wanted to be there, you know? For one day, at least. To see their faces light up. To watch them just be happy, without having to worry about any of this, to just—to just be there with them, as a family, and I—I just wish I had my mom because I am so lost and I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

She breaks down completely, sobs racking her body in a matter of seconds. Enzo's quick to pull her in, his arms wrapping around her as she closes her eyes against the tears and all of it. It's too much, too overwhelming. Everything hurts too much and she hates it, and why does this keep happening? Why can't something just go the way it was supposed to, why can't she be allowed to be happy?

"It's alright," Enzo murmurs into her hair, one hand stroking her back, her face buried in his chest and hands clinging to him. His voice cracks ever so slightly, and he tries to clear it. "Let it all out, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."

She can't begin to express how much relief the last part brings her, even if it fills her with so much dread as well. Everyone who promises they aren't leaving her finds a way in the end. Even the immortal ones. She just hugs him tighter, letting herself believe it for this one moment, because she needs this. She needs him.

They just sit there. She doesn't know for how long, but Enzo never once stops talking to her, his voice soft and soothing. Slowly, the bubbling of pain and guilt and too many other things that are tearing her apart from the inside starts to ease until it's a gentle simmering. Her sobs turn to sniffles, the tears eventually dry, the shaking in her body turns to shivers. 

Enzo pauses, and she can't see him but she can feel his chin move from her head and assumes he's looking at her. "Cold?" he asks her with concern in his voice.

Caroline huffs out a soft laugh that holds the smallest fragment of humour. "Freezing. So much for vampires being immune to everything."

Enzo chuckles along with her, one of his hands moving to her arm, rubbing through her thin coat. She curls in closer to him.

"We still function as humans," he reminds her. "Even we're not immune to frostbite. Immune to dying from it, yes, but getting all of the symptoms of it where our hands go numb and can't move? Unfortunately, no. Probably not the best idea to be sitting outside in the coldest weather of the century."

Caroline hums her agreement. Her throat is still aching, rubbing raw every time she talks. 

"Here."

She feels Enzo move again and pulls back slightly to look at him. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as he produces a scarf seemingly out of nowhere.

"When you came up here, I was going to follow you but figured you'd end up on the balcony in our room," he explains as he winds it around her neck, adjusting it to wrap it around and back down. "But then I remembered the key, and I saw the door coming out here open. You've always had a thing for being outside when you're upset."

Despite all of the crumbled, broken pieces inside of her, she smiles a little. He pauses, checking to make sure the scarf looks okay. She just gazes at him as he gently moves a few strands of her hair until he pulls his hand back. Alarm rises in her as he begins slipping his arm out of his own jacket.

"What are you doing?" she asks him as he takes it off. 

"You need it more than I do," he simply says. 

Caroline starts to protest, but he's already wrapping it around her shoulders, seemingly unfazed that he's now sitting in the middle of a snowstorm in nothing thicker than a flimsy long-sleeved t-shirt. 

"But you just said—"

"Darling, I meant you're not immune to the cold," he cuts her off, shaking his head. He has a faint smile as he adjusts the jacket, pulling it closed around her. "I've endured much worse than a chill. Trust me, I'm perfectly fine. I can barely feel it anymore."

Caroline's heart sinks. It always does when she knows he's referencing his past in Augustine but trying to veer around actually saying it. She watches his face as he continues playing with the jacket, and then the scarf, making sure they're both just right enough to keep her warm. 

"I'm glad you're here," she tells him softly, making his hand falter and his eyes move back up to hers. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You would get through this," he says, completely serious and sincere. His hand is still hovering next to her, a few strands of hair between his fingers. "You would be upset, but you would pull yourself together, and you would find a way to get on that plane. Even if it meant you had to march right through this snow and demand that the plane takes off otherwise you'll fly it yourself if you have to."

Caroline can't help but laugh softly at his exaggerated tone, his intentions clearly to make her do just that as his eyes sparkle with a flicker of happiness. She knows he's right, of course. It would feel so much harder if she was here all alone, stranded with little hope of getting home, but she wouldn't stop trying to find a way to make it happen.

She sighs, wiping her eyes, feeling the dried tracks on her cheeks. "Well, it's a good thing you're here then, because putting me in control of a plane definitely wouldn't get us home."

"Nonsense," Enzo says, grinning, wrapping an arm back around her shoulders. "You'd make a damn good pilot. With some supervision."

"Oh, high praise from an ex-captain," she jokes, then pauses. "It is ex-captain, right?"

Enzo nods. "Yes. That whole part of my life is in the past."

Caroline just nods back as he shifts to lean against the wall behind him, pulling her closer. She settles against his side, tucked under his arm, her head on his shoulder. There's no hope of the snow stopping any time soon, and by the looks of it, they don't have much of a reason to be in any rush anymore. 

A beat passes, silence falling over them like the snow blankets the ground. She listens to the beating of his heart as her own finally slows back to an even pace, the anger and frustration and guilt seeping out of her, leaving her nothing but exhausted. 

"Can I at least ask what your alias was?" she asks softly, her curiosity poking at her as she looks up at him with a slight raise of her eyebrows. 

Enzo glances at her, then smiles.

"Michael Quinn," he answers with a strange raise in his accent, slipping from the gruff, charming British one she's used to, to a slightly softer American one.

He gives a laugh at her obvious surprise and confusion, and his voice goes back to normal.

"I adopted a completely different identity back then. Faked an accent, pretended to be American. It was easier to blend in."

"That makes sense," Caroline agrees, but can't quite wrap her head around the idea of an American Enzo, even if just for an act. 

"I started off a pilot in '42, because of World War One," he continues, to her surprise. "By '52, I was made a Captain of the US Air Force. I ended up working with the government. Shocker, I know."

Caroline's definitely thrown, that's for sure. "I thought you weren't allowed to talk about this?" she questions. 

"Well, considering all of the people I worked with back then are more than likely dead now, I think I'm safe," Enzo says, shrugging. 

Caroline nods slowly. His logic makes sense. And if he thinks it's safe to talk about then who is she to argue? It's not as if she wouldn't like to know more about this secret part of his past.

"So, the government?" she asks, twisting around in his arms and resting her chin on his shoulder. "What, did they have some shady secrets? Oh, did it involve alien conspiracies? Please, Captain Quinn, tell me this story has aliens."

Enzo laughs, and it makes her feel a little more at home for a brief moment. This storm will pass, she thinks. In all senses.

She'll call Alaric, somehow, and let him know what's going on if he hasn't already been filled in. They'll work something out. She will find a way back to Mystic Falls, even if she does have to compel someone to fly them home.

[tracybirds]

And we have results!! I did actually vote but I've removed my icon bc my choices are my own loooool (and I don't necessarily agree with past me either bc lol of course I change my mind!)

Some comments below the cut!

(purely based on my opinion not real statistical analysis bc I got my A in STAT101 and never did it again <3)

Scott is absolutely the most popular bro LOL look at that!! Gordon and Scott combo is the only one who hasn't featured as a winner! I think this makes sense; Virgil and Alan tend to dominate Gordon interactions AND Scott interactions but not at the same time and at least from my perspective Scott and Gordon are two opposite ends of the same scale in many ways and finding common ground between their perspectives can be a challenge!

Kayo's poll got the most votes and Alan's got the fewest.

I will admit Kayo getting the most votes did surprise me lol but could be due to there being more abstainers for the brothers than for Kayo and people being more conflicted whereas people might have a more solid preferred combo of interactions for Kayo (whether that's due to shipping or because Kayo has a tendency to be combined with particular characters and so that's what people are familiar with I really couldn't say).

Alan getting the fewest is.... poor Allie I think he gets left out a fair bit and as a result people don't have as strong an opinion? It does NOT surprise me that Alan&Scott and Alan&John dominated as I would say Alan fans may love Gordon (and I suspect they made up the bulk of Gordon&Alan voters), but they also like reading the big brother / Dad!Scott interactions more than they like the mischief of Gordon nd I think if Alan is your favourite you tend to like the kind of fics that are more caretaking hurt/comfort stories and as much as I adore Gordon he's not the natural pick for that.

John and Scott both had ties for their top picks!! This delighted me more than I can say ahaha it felt right to me! The interesting thing to me is that although they both have ties, John's percentage is significantly lower than Scott's (26% vs 32%) and you can really see that John overall had a much tighter race where as Scott was more polarising. Hilariously Scott&John received 0% of Scott's poll (the lowest score) and John&Scott received 26% of John's poll (the highest score)! I think that this is down to Scott fans in particular preferring the interaction of the three oldest brothers as a rule, with Earth and Sky being the clear domination of the two and thus when Scott&Virgil and Scott&John are compared all the Scott fans voted for the former xD Could be wrong but that's my assumption there! I would suggest that John has a rather unique ability to be a foil for all the other brothers and so it doesn't surprised me that the preference was more divided.

John&Kayo got 0% and Kayo&John had 3% which was the lowest score on each of their respective polls which I found interesting. I would say this is down to two things. 1) Kayo focused works tend to involve only one brother at a time and there doesn't seem to be a great deal of overlap between John fans and Kayo fans so they don't get as many interactions, and 2) fics that aren't focused on Kayo but include her tend to be based on Tracy Island and John doesn't go there very often looool so less opportunity for interaction

I'd assumed that Gordon&Other would get the highest % of Other votes bc of Lady Penelope but surprisingly he got the second lowest!! Scott probably got more bc of Jeff (and maybe shipping), Virgil not sure, John I'm picking EOS clinched that, Alan got the lowest percentage, and I know the Kayo/Penny fans came out for Kayo but I'm sure there's other picks in there like Kyrano or Rigby etc. I also think a lot of the Pen and Ink shippers are big FishTank fans and probably voted for Gordon&Virgil instead :)

Finally when I did the maths to combine all the scores (ignoring Other votes) we have as follows:

Scott and Virgil = 18 votes

Alan and Scott = 16 votes

Kayo and Scott AND Virgil and Gordon = 15 votes

John and Alan = 11 votes

Alan and Gordon = 10 votes

Kayo and Alan = 8 votes

Gordon and John = 7 votes

John and Scott AND John and Virgil = 6 votes

Gordon and Kayo = 5 votes

Scott and Gordon = 4 votes

Virgil and Alan AND Kayo and Virgil = 3 votes

John and Kayo = 1 vote

Take from that what you will :D

OH LMAO okay can't edit while poll is active so no links to the others at the bottom..... have a master post to reblog instead if you don't want to share six polls loooool <3

Scott

Virgil

John

Gordon

Alan

Kayo

[neoarchipelago]

Lisbon Lights (part 4) (John Wick x Assassin!reader)

AN: so things aren't going great in my life right now so I'll update very slowly probably… I hope you enjoy this piece of work from the depths of my depressed mind!

Word count : 2517 

Warnings: torture, blood, cursing, kidnapping.

----

Standing in the elevator you stared as the doors closed. You took a deep breath. You weren't sure exactly what you were feeling. Was it pain? Sadness? Anger? Pride. For sure. Closing your eyes and leaning against the elevator's wall you sighed. How could you have been so stupid? What happened exactly that made you crave this man so much? You barely knew him. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him. Not only physically but mentally as well. You enjoyed the attention he was giving you and the way he seemed to handle your bullshit so well. 

The bell of the elevator rang and you shot your eyes open. Watching as people flooded in and you folded your arms on your chest. You frowned in your corner, keeping any staring person from even trying to speak to you. Looking down at your heels you pushed away that feeling of being scrutinized. You needed a drink. And fast. The bell rang again as the doors opened and you walked out to the lobby, pushing away a few people in your movement. You couldn't care less of the reproachful looks you earned. What? Got a problem? Come and try to fix it, see what you'll get. 

Heading to the bar you sat in one of the bar stools. The bartender gave you a gentle nod that you answered equally. Your gaze caught Amalia sitting at a table nearby and as she spotted you, she stood up. 

"Great…" you groaned looking at the bartender who smirked at you. "A strawberry mojito please." 

Nodding away he walked away as you felt a presence to your left, a worried Amalia now staring right through you. 

"Is everything alright?" She asked, in a serious tone. 

You looked at her and sighed. Where to even start? You shook your head, but didn't find the words to explain. 

"What happened? I thought your plan had gone well? Everyone is already in touch with what happened at the docks and Luana is furious." She added. 

"That's why everyone's been staring at me… talk about secrets in this industry…" you groaned lowly in your corner while your frown deepened. 

Amalia clicked her tongue in a disapproving melody. It would have made you chuckle in any other situation but not now. 

"What happened minha querida* (my darling)?" She questioned, this time a worried look on her face. 

"I fought with Mr Wick. It has been clearly shown what he thinks of me and… I think our cooperation ends here." You spoke in what you wanted to be a cold and decisive tone. 

"What do you mean, what happened?" She sounded confused.

The soft fado playing around the room was calming, but also quite saddening. You looked at the bartender as he was preparing your so awaited drink and you sighed. 

"After our job was done we fought and it was revealed to him how much of a, and I quote, 'Cold hearted bitch' I am…" you let out a bit angrily.

"Alright, that's not the first time I've heard that about you, what's the matter, why do you care?" Her heavy accent was almost annoying at this point. Not that you were starting to hate you friend but because she was making you say things out loud you wished you never did. 

"That's the thing! Why do I care what he thinks right?" You let out through gritted teeth, this time anger rushing through you. 

Amalia seemed surprised, much more by your words than by your anger. You closed your eyes for a second, trying to recompose yourself. 

"Are you in L-?" 

"I care. That's all. And it's already too much." You cut her off. In love? Let's not go that far. At least you didn't want to go that far. 

The memory of his regretful look as you walked out on him a few moments ago was overwhelming. It was hopelessly interrupted by you drink being served. You nodded a thanks as you siped on it, the alcohol not numbing your senses enough to your own taste. Maybe straight vodka was necessary at this point. 

"What are you going to do? Luana is still after you." Amalia remembered.  Feeling the need of a vodka growing stronger.

"I don't know. We'll see. Alea Jacta est. (The die is cast)" You answered, taking another sip at your drink. 

Amalia groaned and rolled her eyes. Her attention was taken by one of her employees and she stood, giving you a last glance as she walked away. You didn't know what to do anymore. Your cup was coming to an end much too fast and you could feel piercing eyes staring at you. Straightening your back you let a coin drop next to your drink and you stood, walking out of the continental. Amalia's worried look lost in all of those that stared at the one who caused such a fuss in the city. 

---- 

The bell of the elevator rang and the doors of the elevator opened. John walked out into the lobby, annoyed by the intense stares he had been receiving since he decided to go to the bar to soften his guilt. He took two steps before being confronted with the Continental's director. What was her name again? 

"Mr Wick." Her heavy accent and the harsh tone mixed well with the character. "Follow me."

John frowned, he just wanted to enjoy his drink and then maybe end that stupid job and go back to New York. However the woman did not leave any room for discussion as she spun around and walked to one of the tables in the far back of the restaurant area. John clenched his fist but followed in anyway. He sat down in front of her and she spoke. 

"I know what happened between you and my dear (y/n)." Her tone wasn't exactly reproachful but she definitely wasn't happy. John cleared his throat but Amalia spoke once more. 

"It doesn't really matter what happened. What matters is what you both decide to do now." 

John's full attention was caught, and he looked at her and nodded for her to continue. 

"(Y/n) is prideful and she will never tell you what I'm going to tell you now. But you need to hear it. She's not someone who cares for people easily, let's not even talk about love. She lacks of trust, she's afraid of being abused the way she has been before." 

John seemed to take it in, a confused look on his face. 

"But she cares about you." 

John glanced up at the woman who's saddeness could not be hidden.

"And whatever you think she might have done to you, think twice before assuming. She has put herself in this mess because of you. She helped you." Amalia added.

John sighed. 

"Tell me. What made you say those awful things?" She asked, her frown back on her features.

John cleared his throat once more. 

"She… she seduced the guards, back at the docks…" john let out in a hoarse voice.

"Jealousy?!" Amalia half-yelled. 

John glared at the woman.

"No." John's deep voice answered.

It was only met with a perfect eye roll from the woman. She stood up surprising John as she spoke one last time, seriousness back in her voice. 

"You care for her. I know you do. And she left. She's in the city. On her own." 

John watched as she walked away. What did that mean? John frowned. She left? On her own? It took a second to tilt, but once it did. John stood in a hurry and walked out of the continental. After all, they are still on a job. 

----

You walked around the city, cursing yourself on the stupid idea to go out in this bloody city in heels. Yes you were furious and at this point you'd kill even a pigeon for trying to get near you. The streets weren't empty but you had to admit being in the desert zone of the city. You cursed once more at yourself for not thinking before going out of the continental. 

You sighed, the late afternoon sun made your skin glisten a bit and you hated yourself at the moment. Your mind kept racing over John FUCKING WICK. You wanted to go apologise, and tell him you'd be his perfect kitten but hell no. Pride was online and it made you roam the city on your own instead of just going back to your hotel room and take a nap or something. 

Lost in your own thoughts you failed to notice the two men following you. Raging over the little birds and couples you had almost forgotten how much you had angered Luana. There was no actual possibility to sneak up on you. You could almost feel the hair on your neck rising from being stared at. But you should have been much more careful, because your reaction time was, much smaller. 

The harsh grasp on your arm wasn't hard to expect, spinning around and quickly kicking the guy on his knee, making sure your heels would hit the spot, you managed to get free pretty quickly. Grabbing the dagger strapped at your thigh you stood waiting for a new attack. The second one tried to grab your hair but the blade quickly reached his hands that you made sure to cut deep. It was followed by the first one trying to grab you once more, and a high kick to his head made the trick. Your mind was running on full speed as you were trying to evaluate the situation, a hard blow to your head unfortunately made you lose all grip on reality, as you slowly fell into unconsciousness.

----

You groaned as you opened your eyes. The back of your head hurt like hell. You quickly realized where you were and how exactly you were. Sitting on chair, your ankles tied to it and your hands behind your back also tied together. You cursed under your breath as you took in your surroundings. You were in your old boss's hotel room. The same one he died in. You groaned as you closed your eyes. The sound of heels echoed and you quickly open them again. As you glanced on who just joined you in your little hell you rolled your eyes. 

"Luana…" you almost wanted to slap yourself.

She smirked. Her blond curly hair falling over her shoulders. She looked really pretty, almost innocent with her soft ocean eyes. If you didn't knew what kind of bitch she was you'd probably be fooled by her act. 

"(Y/n)." She spoke, as she sat on the red velvet couch in front of you. Of course she's going to want to watch and enjoy the show. 

"Did you think after all that you've done I wouldn't catch you?" She asked in a joyful tone. 

You smirked sarcastically at her. 

"I honestly didn't think you'd bother yourself to do so." You spoke looking around the room. 

"I don't understand (y/n)." She said leaning closer. 

"Yeah I realized that happened quite often with you." You let out absentmindedly.  

She chuckled. Grabbing your attention. 

"Joke all you want. You won't for long." She threatened. 

You narrowed your eyes at her. 

"Why would you betray my family like this? You weren't even the one with a contract." She asked. 

"If I knew myself I'd maybe tell you…" you let out, looking away, visibly annoyed. "Without sounding like a bitch.." you spoke "like one apparently thinks that i am.." you added under your breath, "why am I the only one being hunted down?" You finished looking at her a soft frown on your face. 

Luana laughed loudly as she answered you. 

"You think I'd go hunting the Baba Yaga?" She looked at you as if you were the stupidest person on earth. 

You felt exactly like that. Stupid. Obviously she wasn't going to hunt John. She needed someone to blame, someone to torture and you made yourself the perfect target to do so without putting her into actual danger. You pursed your lips. This was, by far, your worst vacation ever. 

"What makes you think he won't come to help me?" You spoke again, playing some kind of manoeuvre to see if you could at least make it out alive. 

"Oh. But a little bird told me he heard you say that your… collaboration was over." She answered, the most annoying grin you've ever seen on someone. 

She was right. He wasn't coming for you. He hated you. He thought you were a cold hearted bitch. No. You were on your own again. 

Luana's laugh echoed through the room. You groaned. 

"Why are you laughing for you psycho?!" You let out angrily. 

"I'm laughing at you!" She said as she stood. "You look absolutely pathetic. And I'm truly about to make you regret ever going against my family." 

You frowned as she picked up something from the table that you didn't quite managed to see. The sound of steel made you freeze. You were quite in trouble yes. 

You watched as Luana spun around, a shiny scalpel in hand. You tried your best to hide the sudden anxiety creeping over you. You had been tortured before and it wasn't going to be pleasing. As she slowly stepped closer, you kept an annoyed frown, your pride being the last barrier between you and this predator. You weren't used being chased down and played with. But now you could only shut up and endure. The cold feeling of the object against your skin made you shiver. 

"You could have at least heated them. They're fucking cold." You sarcastically let out. 

You felt the blade pierce the skin, right on your collarbone. You clenched your jaw. Not letting a sound out as she kept going, a small trail of blood behind the sharp steel. It wasn't deep. No. It was painful more than it was ever life threatening. She smiled, the most fucked up smile you'd seen on someone's face as she looked at the red drops dripping on your pretty white top. Wait. That thought was recurrent with her now wasn't it? She was after all… entirely fucked up. You knew you could handle torture, but not how long. And right now, you needed a way to get out. 

"This-" Luana spoke, right before being cut out by the phone of the hotel room. 

She looked furious as she looked at one of her guys, that you were only now noticing, gesturing for him to answer. He walked over to the phone, picked it up, and turned on the high speaker. 

"Hello? Who's this?" Luana asked obviously annoyed. 

"It seems… you have my kitten"

You gasped as the voice answered and echoed in the room, you truly did. You looked even more pitiful now, a sorrowful frown on your pretty face, tugging at your ropes. The hoarse voice and the words echoed again and again through your head. And the only word escaping your mouth before the sound of gunshots were heard.

"John…"

---

Tags: @cap-just-said-language @linbrw @crystalcrysalis19 @thatbemyhouse @magdazwolska @coloursunlimited @baphtometwolf666 @tomhardy41 @92lnbr @moonlit-raven-haven @siren-queen03 @paanchu786 @wickedbarnes

[hamilton-one-shots]

How bout a thaurens au in which john starts sleeping with thomas to help alex's career (I've seen a great art by @f-kotik-y ) but then slowly falls in love with him? With prompt 38, 57 and any of sexual ones? Pretty please?

(38: “Isn’t this amazing?” 57: “Is that my shirt?” 177: “You’re so beautiful.”)

John Laurens had one wish. But there was no way it was coming true anytime soon. All he wished was that the guy that he woke up with every morning actually loved him back. He sighed and moved a strand of curly hair from Thomas’ face, enjoying his peaceful expression for a few minutes before getting up and going downstairs to make breakfast. After a few minutes, someone joined him, strong arms wrapping around his waist.

“Good morning, sunshine. You know you don’t have to do that.”

John shrugged. “Yeah, but I want to.”

“Thanks.” He kissed his cheek. “Is that my shirt?”

“Yeah. I can’t exactly wear mine anymore…” Thomas had gotten a little rough.

He chuckled at the memory. “Sorry.”

Now, this wasn’t what most people would first think. This wasn’t a failed marriage or a stale relationship. This was a lot more… Taboo… Than that, to say the least. And it all began because John’s friend, Alexander, had gotten himself in another mess and, once again, John had to be the hero and save his skin.

“Alex? What are you doing home so early?” he asked his best friend and roommate.

“I… Uh… I kind of got fired…”

John groaned and dropped his bag. “Again?! Really, Alex?”

“Hey! It wasn’t my fault this time! Jefferson’s pissed because I said that people who have maids and stuff who don’t pay them support a family are hypocrites who are trying to simulate slavery.”

“… And you thought that was a good idea because?..”

Alexander tutted. “I should be able to say what I think in my writing. This is censorship!”

“Chill out. I’ll talk to him tomorrow morning.”

The next morning, John made his way to the newspaper where Alexander worked and went up to his boss’ office. He hated sharing a name with his father, but it had its perks.

“John. Nice to see you in my office again.” This was far from the first time that Alexander had jeopardize his job.

“Nice to be here again.”

“Maybe we’ll be able to meet up for reasons other than your boyfriend’s stupidity once day.”

“Not my boyfriend, but I agree.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow and smirked. “He’s not? Tell me, then: why is someone of your status always in here begging me to give him his job back?”

John shrugged and crossed his legs, leaning back in his chair. “Because you enjoy paintings of yourself as payment and I have to live with him. He may not be my boyfriend, but he is my best friend.”

“I see.” Thomas nodded and crossed his arms. “Well, I’m getting tired of firing your friend. Paintings just aren’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“I knew this day would come.” John rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the chance.” He glanced up and saw the way Thomas was looking at him. It was probably the same way he was looking back at him at times- with lust and want in his eyes.

“Maybe we can arrange something else…”

“And what exactly do you have in mind?”

“The same thing you do.” John smirked.

Of course, Thomas understood right away. Still, he had a reputation to maintain, making him a bit hesitant. “How do I know this isn’t an attempt at getting some blackmail?”

“Please. My reputation is just as on the line as yours if we do this, not to mention my family name. I have no reason to spill. If we do this, we both win and Alexander keeps his job.”

Thomas seemed to think for a minute. “My only hesitation is the part where Hamilton keeps his job.” John raised an eyebrow and Thomas chuckled. “Kidding.” He scribbled something down on a sheet of paper and slid it to John. “Meet me here at eight tonight.”

John looked at the address and nodded. “Done.”

That night, John did exactly as he said, going over to Thomas’ mansion and being let inside immediately by the Virginian himself.

“It’s nice to see you again, Laurens.”

“Just John is fine.” He stepped inside. “So, where are we going to do this?”

Thomas tutted and wrapped his arm around John’s waist. “Saying it like that makes this sound dirty. At least more so than it is. And my bedroom’s upstairs.” He led the smaller man upstairs.

John imagined that Thomas was going to have a lush bed or something over the top, but he didn’t expect it just to be in the middle of a hallway. Granted, that hallway was in a room, but still. The placement alone made it strange. John didn’t say a word about it, though. He began to strip, pulling his shirt off, but Thomas stopped him. “This isn’t a regular hookup, sugar. Let’s take our time with this.”

That was something that John certainly wasn’t expecting. He assumed that Thomas only wanted sex, not anything passionate. But he wasn’t about to argue. Thomas was an attractive guy and he wanted to enjoy every second of it.

Thomas stepped forward and wrapped his arms around John, leaning down as he pulled him into a kiss. John sighed contently and placed his hands on Thomas’ chest as they kissed, letting him move them back towards the bed as he pleased and only breaking the kiss when they got to it. Thomas started trailing kisses from John’s lips down his neck and pulled his shirt off, putting his hands on John’s hips and smiling. “Just as I imagined… You’re so beautiful…”

John couldn’t help but blush darky at that. Nobody had ever called him beautiful…

(Sex scene below the line. It’ll be italicized and it ends above another line.)

Thomas ran his hands down John’s hips and hooked his fingers in the belt loops in John’s pants, looking up at him for permission.

John nodded and lifted his hips, making it easier for Thomas as he pulled off his pants. He watched as the other moved down the bed to do so, tossing his pants and his shoes aside, just as he had with his shirt, before taking off his own clothes. Somehow, Thomas managed to get even more attractive than before, his abs making for quite a view from where John was laying.

Thomas leaned back down and kissed John again for a few seconds, then pulled away to sit up again, this time reaching for his nightstand and pulling out a condom and a bottle of lube. He slowly pulled down John’s boxers, giving him the chance to protest that he didn’t need. He tossed his boxers down with the rest of their clothes and ate up the sight, committing every curve and every inch of John’s skin to memory. Once he had it down, he poured some of the lube onto his fingers and lifted John’s legs, the other helping him carry his weight as he pushed one of his digits in.

John let out a low moan and let himself relax. It had been a while, too long in his opinion, but he wasn’t a one night stand person. He couldn’t help but wince a bit as he felt the second and third fingers, but the pain quickly subsided both times, pleasure replacing it. By the time that Thomas scissored his fingers in him and stretched him out to prep him, John was in heaven, moaning and writhing in pleasure.

Thomas chuckled. “We haven’t even gotten to the main event yet, sugar.” Still, he enjoyed seeing John react so well when they hadn’t gotten quite that far yet. “I think you’re ready.” Thomas pulled out his fingers and took a moment to put on the condom, John sitting up and watching eagerly. “Be patient, chickadee.” He kissed his forehead and pushed him back down against the bed. “Tell me if it’s too much for you.” He didn’t continue until John nodded. He pulled his legs over his shoulders and positioned himself at John’s entrance before gently pushing in, watching the other’s face for any signs of discomfort. There weren’t any. Just those of pleasure. Thomas smiled and started moving slowly inside of him, eliciting sweet moans and mewls. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting when he agreed to the arrangement, but this was much better. He slowly sped up until he set a good pace, groaning and panting softly at the feeling.

To say that John was in heaven was an understatement. He never felt pleasure like that before and he wanted it to last. At the same time, he wanted to get the most of however long that lasted and, for all he knew, Thomas was the type to finish and assume that John could finish himself off if he hadn’t. So, he started stroking himself and moaning louder, the pleasure unlike anything he’d ever felt before. John’s mind went blank and he forgot about everything else, simply enjoying the time as Thomas gave him the most mind-blowing sex of his life. It was maybe a half hour, but it felt like days before it was finally over. By then, John had orgasmed twice, a sticky mess covering his chest, and Thomas groaned loudly as he finished himself, cursing as he felt himself filling the condom.

“Wow… Isn’t this amazing?” he hummed as he looked down at John’s blissful expression. “You know, if all I have to do to look at this is deal with Hamilton, I’ll consider giving him a promotion.” Thomas chuckled as he pulled out of John. “I’ll be right back.” He kissed John’s forehead and pulled on his boxers before leaving the room for a minute. When he came back, John was already asleep, tired out from the intimate night. Thomas smiled and sat beside him, putting his boxers back on him and cleaning his chest with a warm washcloth before laying down with him and falling asleep.

That was the first night of John’s biggest mistake.

Six months later and John was in way too deep, emotionally speaking. Six months of waking up to Thomas’ arms wrapped around him and beautiful compliments coming from his sweet lips as they shared night after intimate night together led to John falling in love. It wasn’t supposed to be that way… It was supposed to be no strings attached sex to help John’s friend keep his job. He couldn’t just cut things off, not without any explanation. And he couldn’t tell this to Thomas. So, the only solution was for John to keep shoving his feelings down and just enjoy the sex.

But taking this route wasn’t all bad.

After all, John wouldn’t have been nearly as surprised when Thomas asked him out later that morning.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, okay, I'm still on my journey through random shit Andy Zaltzman has done on podcasts in various years, and here's a podcast that did a 12-minute interview with Andy Zaltzman, recorded at the 2011 Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Firstly, last week I was trying to find sources besides David O'Doherty that claim that Jimmy Carr was in the So You Think You're Funny 1999 finals even though he was left off the Wikipedia list, and here is yet another instance of Andy Zaltzman saying he was there, though somewhat amusingly, this time Andy forgot Russell Howard:

They then briefly discuss the Zaltzman and Oliver origins, which I've left in in case anyone who didn't want to read my 13,000-word biography of Andy Zaltzman does want a very quick summary of where he came from in comedy, in advance of him starting on Taskmaster this week.

But then, later in the 12-minute interview, they get into a more interesting topic. Recently on this blog, I have covered various mysteries from the early days of Andy Zaltzman's comedy career. Why did he and John Oliver both answer that 2004 BBC questionnaire by saying they want a head like an orange? Was Jimmy Carr definitely in that competition final with Andy from 1999? Who wrote the "grindingly mediocre" review of Andy Zaltzman's stand-up in 2000? All of those questions have been answered recently. But there is one question that I've wondered about for several years now: what the fuck happened at that one disastrous gig in York, in what Russell Howard called 2006 but I thought was probably 2005, based on other references to it? A few years ago I made a compilation of every reference I could find to this gig:

I thought I'd found all the references that were out there to that show, but then, in this clip from a 12-minute interview recorded from Edinburgh 2011 that Andy Zaltzman did with some guy I'd never heard of, buried deep in the search results of my podcast app:

Well that's the most detailed description of it I've heard so far. It's pretty much what I assumed, except that Andy Zaltzman says it was the first preview they did together, which I assume means it was for their first joint Edinburgh show, which would make it 2004. I'd assumed it was 2005 because Andy called it "about four years ago" in 2009. Russell Howard called it 2006, but he said that in 2017, so long enough after the fact that he could easily have been a year out in his memory. And 2006 makes a lot less sense because while they did write a joint show that year, John Oliver ran off to America before the festival started, and I think he knew by preview season that he was going to America, so I don't think they'd have done previews of their joint show that year, Andy had to re-write it to be a solo show. Though I guess if they hadn't written it yet and were just riffing, that could have been early enough if the season to have happened in 2006. But it wouldn't have been their first one.

So there's some more light shed on yet another mystery. The answers to the mysteries are always out there, no matter how long it takes to find them! Somewhere in the depths of the search results on my podcast app, I know there is a clip of David O'Doherty explaining those wild nights of Late 'n' Live where one time they actually took a pretend cow apart on stage, and here's the story of that...

Anyway, I could have cut that York audio clip shorter, but I had to leave in the bit just afterward when Andy Zaltzman brought in Paul Sinha, who had not been previously mentioned in that interview but apparently just happened to be hanging out nearby, to make fun of famous musicians and famous comedy clubs. So I've posted two audio clips from this interview, and there's an interesting bit in between those two audio clips where Andy discusses the "editorial independence" that The Bugle gets from The Times, which is interesting given this interview's timing of August 2011. A couple of weeks after the time when John Oliver and Andy Zaltzman were ripping apart their Times-based parent company on The Bugle over the News International scandal, and a couple of months before The Times fired them with suspicious timing. Interesting to hear his view of the editorial independence, from the eye of that storm.

I would post that clip, but honestly the whole interview is only 12 minutes long, so at that point I'd just be posting the entire interview. Everyone go listen to the whole interview, it's fun.

[seenashwrite]

Dearest Nash, I've touched on this before in (I believe) in a discussion re: why some mainstream fics get oodles of notes while more original ones do not, *but* I wanted to get a bit more specific here. There are certain writers here whose writing has a definite vibe to it (if you will) that separates their work from others, and your name is one of the first that comes to mind. Bear with me, because trying to detail what makes your writing stand out is difficult while trying to articulate a Q

^ this is a gif with parts 2 - 4, just FYI

Hmmm… this is a bit of a brain buster. But I can answer it, and I think succinctly, maybe with a touch of that Spidey sense you mention:

Thank you for your inquiry, hope that helps! 

I kid. But this is a brain-turner. And a characteristic which, like you say, ain’t limited to me. I’d honestly throw comedians under this umbrella, too, not because I’m necessarily gunning for a laugh every time, but because it’s pretty much their job to take a “basic” (a tenet or fact of life or present reality or whatever) and present the observation with a twist. I think of storyteller comedians specifically, your Patton Oswalt-s, Maria Bamford-s, Kathy Griffin-s, and John Mulaney-s.

So if I can sum up, assuming I’m tracking with you, what you’re more or less driving at with the “how” is this –> Is there anything beyond simply personality, or an auto-pilot thought cascade (for lack of better terminology) that contributes? Are there things someone could do/be proactive about, to perhaps cause this same sort of reaction to happen in their brain?

I think there just might be.

Folks reading this, let me ask you a question, and you cannot look it up:

What was the name of the Sherpa guide who led Sir Edmund Hillary up Mount Everest?

.

.

.

His name was Tenzing Norgay.

Nash, what in the name of the frozen corpse of George Mallory does this have to do with Lion’s question?

I shall tell you.

My father told me that fact when I was quite young, so young I legit couldn’t even ballpark my age for you. The context was that having little facts tucked away in your brain may come in handy. Not in a Jeopardy kind of way, more in a conversational way. I’ve no idea why the man thought the Sherpa guide who led Hillary up Mt. Everest would ever come up during a conversation with enough regularity to justify my knowing that fact (aside from him randomly quizzing me throughout my life) but hey, I guess it just did.

But speaking of Lil’ Nash, the situation for her was that she was the eldest of all the Nash litter by miles… like seven or eight years, I’m not bothering to check. So I had a lot of alone time, and my grandmother was my chief babysitter, so prior to kindergarten and then til I was in about second grade (so: all day long during the week, then every weekday after she picked me up from school), I was pretty much always at her house. Yeah, there were toys, but not a lot to do. And I’d read. I’d been reading on my own for a decent while, not because I was some prodigy but because my dad read to me *constantly* when Lil’ Nash was Itty-Bitty Nash, and it “took”. My mom also, every time she went to the grocery store always - and I mean always - brought back a book for me. It might’ve been an Archie comic—-

Mandatory #fuck the CW’s Riverdale tag

—-or a Babysitter’s Club, or Sweet Valley High, Judy Blume, Madeleine L’Engle, Zilpha Keatley Snyder, you get my point. Some small paperback. It would piss Dad off because he’s a cheap bastard and two buck books once or twice a month were really gonna cut into the savings [eyeroll] but also, in a way, because I’d kill it in a half day/a day. Wouldn’t put it down. After awhile, I started writing my own silly little kid stories, then - and this is where the creative writing love came about -  I started writing soap operas for my Barbies. (When I was older - like, 5th grade? 6th grade, maybe? - none of my peers were still playing with Barbies, and I got made fun of when, at a sleepover, they saw my stash. And I was like - No, no, no. Those aren’t for playing. That’s my cast.)

Time went on, and when I was bored at post-church lunch/dinners, I would also read the old encyclopedias at my grandmother’s, the ones from the late ‘60s/early ‘70s that she had for my mom and my aunt. As I got even older and became fascinated with rooting through the boxes in gran’s basement, looking at all the cool old clothes, I stumbled upon my aunt’s collection of Whoa-Hooooo Shit There’s No Way My Grandparents Knew You Read These books. Those kinda Harlequin-esque ones, except my aunt’s tastes run close to mine, none were the same shtick with different covers, shmultzy-sappy romance, there was always some sort of intrigue along with the sexy times, and she also had, like, every legit V. C. Andrews (meaning: not the ones from the ghostwriter, this was way before her death) book.

What is my point? I read a LOT. Now-a-days, other than fanfic (which… straight up: I don’t read a lot of that, either. I peace out on probs 80% of it before the third-to-fifth paragraph. It’s gotta sell me fast, yo) I haven’t read fiction in probably, oh…. 12 years? I think the last ones were the first couple Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Wait, no! I lie! I read the 50 Shades books when I was traveling 2x/wk for a job about 4 years ago, and I needed the laughs. It worked. Oh my days, that woman can’t write. The screenplay might’ve been worse, it goes her, then Buckleming, then everyone else. It’s bad. In any event, past decade or so, it’s more historical stuff and true crime and science stuff and all that old fart jazz.

Okay, so that’s #1: Read. And not just anything, be well-read, and that doesn’t mean developing some level of expertise, by “well” I’m saying to cover the spread. You’re building your tool kit, is all. You won’t use most of it, but it’s nice to have options. You also don’t always have to get this stuff from reading now-a-days, because podcasts. Cover the spread there, too. Lemme look at my bookmarks…. 

[Spongebob narrator voice: A few moments later]

I’m back. Science - Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe; General current stuff without being news - CGP Grey’s Hello Internet; current events with shittons of pop culture, past and present - Greg Proops’ Smartest Man in the World; fun history stuff - The Dollop; entertainment stuff - How Did This Get Made.

#2: Keep a notebook with you and jot down turns-of-phrase that spark something in your brain - things you read on websites, on twitter, in articles, things you hear people say (real life, TV, movies, podcasts), and write it. Don’t snap a pic with your phone or make a note in your phone. There are studies behind this, I’m not hunting them down, you’ll just have to trust me, but there are, and it goes to being reflexive, a brain “muscle memory” thing, if you will. You’re not doing it to plagiarize, you’re doing it to dissect it, kind’ve like you did with the example you gave on me —> went from punch action to punch spiked with booze to a punch with a spiked gauntlet.

Which leads to #3: Mental dictionary. I have a large vocab repository, and it stems from the tons of reading - I stop and look up stuff if I either don’t know it, or it’s used in such a way that I think they’ve got it wrong and want to double-check that maybe there’s another usage I don’t know - and also stems from a drive to combat the (still fairly thick) deep South drawl I can’t kick, and not for lack of trying. But see, I couldn’t have whipped out that progression if I weren’t aware that one definition of “spike” is “to add alcohol to”, or of the common shtick in stories of spiked punch like at high school proms typically, or knew about the existence of spiked gauntlets / old school armor. 

And I guarantee you that a good chunk of people didn’t really “get it”, and just thought “Nash Be Nashin’, that nutty gal”. So they “get it” on that level, but don’t Get. It., if you see what I’m saying. And that’s fine. Maybe it got something cranking in the back of their mind and it’ll hit ‘em in the middle of the night, or they’ll be watching Game of Thrones or something, see a gauntlet and be like “Oh goddamnit, I just got a throw-a-way one-liner from three years ago” and have a chuckle.

Related, re: looking stuff up and things that people “get”? I didn’t know fuck-all about Twilight, but it seemed of import to the folks around 5 years younger than me, the Nashlings wouldn’t shut up about it, so I got a good working knowledge of it. Same with Harry Potter, and through it I got to “know” J.K. Rowling, who I find to be an exceptional writer, so that was great, and I’ve watched the movies for the most part over the years at Christmastime, and I don’t give the first shit about what “house” I’m in, nor do I care about what Patronus I’d fart, but I have a working knowledge of what those are, and horcruxes and who Snape and Voldie are, you get my point. I can keep up. But to do it, I had to take the time to look it up. One thing I would not trade for gold is Michael Sheen chewing the goddamn scenery in that battle segment from the last Twilight movie. Have I watched the movie? No. But that scene is the shit. And that baby CGI is horrific on several subtle levels. And not-so-subtle. I’ve digressed.

Back to those notes: So if you’ve got these notes jotted, you might see something else and think “I feel like that could’ve been snappier…. why do I think that….” And you’ve got a resource at your disposal, that little notebook. Hell, jot that thing down - things you think could be done better. I have in many documents a highlight around chunks of scenes for my big dog story where it says in bold above or below “DO BETTER”. Meaning: there’s a better way to get from A to B, but I’m just not quite there yet. I’m pretty quick on the uptake and can crank out something snappy on the fly (like say, in CASPN chat or when banging out a short reply or thank you note) but there’s definitely times I gotta slap a DO BETTER on it and walk away til that snappy something-or-other light bulb goes off. 

Here’s a recent one where I backtracked, matter of fact - that noir spoof thing I wrote? Along with my co-writer, Moscato? There was a line that I couldn’t hit with a good zinger, so I just said moments were going by like a fat hamster on a wheel, which is cute, but not really grooving with the setting/the vibe. Less tipsy, when I was correcting some inelegant formatting and a misspelling [sigh], I went “Oh! Why didn’t this occur to me last night? Right. Wine.” So the line is now about moments dragging like a rolling donut with a copper on its tail. Get it? The cop’s a fat ass. The donut-cop stereotype.

…….Fine, it ain’t my best, but it fits better. Moving on.

And this leads nicely into #4, and a specific tip I can impart - assuming you’ve got a passable-to-high level of vocabulary in your tool belt, practice messing around with making nouns into verbs, and twisting random stuff into descriptors and using bizarre words/things in metaphors/analogies. Like, I say “adulting” quite a bit. Ali - @littlegreenplasticsoldier - I thiiiink was writing recently about Sam being drunk, and he’s a tall wobbly Jenga tower on his last Jenga. Going back to the noir, pulpy detective style, try messing with the whole “S/he was like a ___ that ____”. Add on to stuff that’s well known - He was like a dog with a bone, if the bone was a ____ and he was a ____ and we were in a ____. (I have *nothing* in mind to fill those blanks, by the way, feel free to twist it into sumpin’)

What else…. okay, here’s a #5: In drafts, let yourself wander, and see what kicks out. It can be fueled by silliness or anger, but I don’t reckon you’re gonna get the “snappy” you’re aiming for if you’re down in the dumps and going full-court-press angst. The best stuff, IMO, comes from the space in between goofy and pissed, and that is The Land Of Snark. You can always re-style it to bend more dry or wistful should you need to, certainly, depending on the situation.

Have a sample of a primo Nash Digression that was fueled by ire in a recap from Season 12 (episode 19). I had said - RE: the random inclusion of the character Joshua, which still pisses me off because they burned a character that held massive potential for future stuff as he’d been shown to be the only angel with direct access to Chuck, so, y’know, that could never come in handy, like ever again in the series, right? - the following.

Mandatory pre-emptive #fuck Dabb

[Spongebob narrator voice] A few moments later —> 

On god, I have no idea where that came from, and here’s where we go back to ol’ Spidey up there, because end of the day?

All that other stuff’s the foundation, sure, but there’s always gonna be the weird iggy, the thing that can’t be learned or taught, whatever the quirky synapse is that fires off in my/our brains. In my experience, it’s an ADD-ish sort of jam mixed with the Nostradamus effect. Meaning, (A) we’re at Level 10, rapid fire thought processing >50% of the time, and (B) throw out enough stuff for long enough, some of it’s going to stick. And I whiff it plenty. Multiple times in CASPN chat I’ve been like “Whoo, tough room” when something falls flat.

A specific example: @mrswhozeewhatsis - and I think you saw this, but anyone else seeing this may not have - gave probably the most fantastic analogy I’ve seen regarding the whole “getting it” thing, and while it was on the topic of meaty plots that get too far into the weeds (my specialty) and how it can lessen appeal to a broader audience, it still applies here. 

She said “Sometimes, when I’m reading something of yours, I feel like there’s a joke I’m missing. It’s like watching Spaceballs without having seen Star Wars.” I say that to say - nobody’s gonna land references that cover the spread 100% of the time. And, y’know, fine. I figure maybe it’ll prompt someone to do a quick google for - well, let’s use Spaceballs. Most folks will no doubt get the Star Wars part, but maybe not Spaceballs. Maybe they’ll check it out, find something they enjoy. Or learn a new word. Or get a brainstorm for a story. Who knows?

Last tip: Don’t actively mimic anyone’s style. Much fail. And I don’t only mean because if they’re on a social Venn diagram with you, would likely recognize themselves in your stuff——

Takes a moment to wave to the peeps still trying with me! #bless your hearts

—–but because it’s fucking hard. I did it broadly on the noir thing, that’s not a hard thing, to homage generalities, but the way I’m messing with doing this on that silly Princess Bride series? Purposefully styling it like Goldman? It’s good  challenging and all, and it is making it feel more in the groove with the book/movie, but I have to be in the right frame of mind or it’s like fingernails on a chalkboard, and when I have pushed it, then gone back, it’s sloggy, soggy garbage.

I say all that to say: it’s an amalgam of brain-wiring/personality, and world/life perspective(s), and knowledge acquired over time. The first just is; the second will evolve in myriad ways, maybe for the better, maybe for the worse; the last is the one where you/we have control, we can fill bucket after bucket of information, and the well won’t ever run dry.

Sorry this took so long. I kept adding and subtracting. This is the edited version, if you can believe it. Welcome to Nash Brain. 😉

[silentauroriamthereal]

Hey SA I've just seen you reblogged a post about goodbyes in the show and I so would like to know your opnion on this. Do you think the cane scene was in character for John? Tbh I think his character was very OOC in S4 but I'd like to know your opinion on this. Yours are the only fanfic I read post-s4 I really trust you with my heart. Thank you!

Okay, just as a disclaimer, because I really, really don’t want anyone to think the opposite here, I absolutely love John Watson. Please don’t be confused about that. That said, he’s got some massive issues. 

Unfortunately, I do see the cane scene as in character, but I’m also one of those annoying people that would say that there’s a huge range of what could be considered “in character” for every human, you know? I’m just as much myself when I’m being a total dick as when I’m being the best version of myself. One end of the spectrum is not truer than the other. John is just as much John when he’s doing that soft, gentle, tender gaze, like at Sherlock and Mrs Hudson in ASIB as he is when he’s physically hurting Sherlock. Unfortunately, they chose to draw out the ugliest aspects of John’s personality in series 4, showcasing his damage far more than his heroism and the beautiful soul that he also is underneath those trust issues and unspent, ultimately inward-pointing anger and guilt and sense of inadequacy. Walking out when things get difficult is very much consistent with his behaviour from series 1 forward: look at his little domestic with Sherlock in TGG: Sherlock is being insulting and difficult, and instead of trying to talk through it or ask deeper questions, or even just argue it out, John gets up and leaves. 

I would say that it’s canon that he also left Mary after she shot Sherlock. I don’t see how anyone could possibly have maintained “months of silence” while occupying the same space. It just isn’t possible. For a few weeks, maybe, but months of genuine silence? No way. John wasn’t there. To his credit, and this is a big thing, John doesn’t stay mad. His capacity to handle things blowing up in his face is rather limited, but give him time and he’ll go back and give it another go. It took him 24 hours after Sherlock returned. Even when he thought the bearded old man was Sherlock playing a prank, he was laughing in spite of himself and clearly, overtly disappointed when it turned out not to be Sherlock. So he went back. The fact that it took him six months to return to Mary says a lot in terms of how reluctant he was to do it. I hate that he did it, but I get that the weight of his sworn word and the impending arrival of his child were the sole driving factors there, rather than love for Mary herself. His extreme reluctance and over promise of continuing anger during that scene hardly made for a cozy little reunion scene (I once saw an interview where Gatiss referred to it as “so tender and moving” or some crap like that, but that’s a rage post for another day!). The point is, given time to sort himself out, John goes back. He goes back to therapy even when he thinks it isn’t working. For all that Mrs Hudson had to bully him into it (he wasn’t ready and that wasn’t right!), John did finally agree to see and treat Sherlock. He would have gone back. That’s as much in his character as his preponderance for leaving is. 

Furthermore, while it’s ugly that he leaves, I also find it entirely understandable. This is someone who has a history of familial issues, estranged from everyone except a sister, with whom he shares a barely-tolerated relationship. He was in an active war zone: say no more. His superior officer, on whom he clearly had at least a bit of a hero complex for (and I personally don’t see anything else there, but that’s also plenty!), let him down and shut him out. Life had already betrayed John over and over and over again by the point that he met Sherlock. And Sherlock, for all of his intellectual brilliance, had never allowed himself to have a relationship so close that he might actually want to consider the other person’s feelings. He was clumsy and a slow learner and I think it took him a long time to see that John’s feelings needed better care than he was equipped to understand or give at the time. Their shared sense of inappropriate humour always had that edge to it, and while John is mentally healthy, I think he loves it (and I think that that’s why, when Sherlock faltered in the restaurant upon seeing John again and hastily revised his ill-conceived plan, that he turned to the one thing he thought he could rely on, this shared humour) but when he’s having one of his bad times, it cuts sharply. I think that he understands the genuine affection behind it, and when Sherlock said everything he said in his wedding speech, I think he was honestly shocked to hear it expressed so directly. He does know how much Sherlock thinks of him, how much he relies on him, and that any light jokes to the contrary are genuinely jokes. With Mary, on the other hand, they weren’t actually jokes and he knew it. They’ve always had communication problems, ones that lead to living out what they want from each other in the worst ways possible, but the love behind it is a real thing. Their actions only hurt each other so badly because of that very yearning there, one that neither of them seems able to express, or willing to take the risk to express. It’s a truly damaged relationship and they’ve both been damaged by it. As someone who absolutely believes in their love, and in the capacity for them to love hugely, deeply, and without reserve, it hurts to say that. Nevertheless, I do believe that with all of my being. 

I’ve joked that my new “kink” since series 4 is getting them both some therapy. I’ve written more therapy in stories since Christmas than ever before! Since series 4 started airing, I’ve written These Four Walls & Exile (after TST), Where My Demons Hide (John goes back to Ella), Now That the Dust Has Settled (We Can See the Stars), and A Satellite Out of Orbit (told from Ella’s POV in which she sees Sherlock during TLD), (after TLD), and then after TFP: A Case for Domestic Propinquity, Hell Hath No Fury (John goes back to Ella), From the Bottom of the Well (John goes back to Ella), Bridging the Ravine & Set in Stone (which take place at a resort for same-sex couples needing group and one-on-one relationship counselling). I think they need help. I also think that one of them could finally come to his senses and realise one day that they need to talk, and talk properly. I take back what I said about my biggest canon frustration being the way John leaves Sherlock: it’s definitely Moftiss never having once allowed them to have a direct, honest, and complete conversation. (Sometimes direct, sometimes honest, but never complete!) I think that they could get there on their own. It’s possible. It just hasn’t happened yet. 

That said, remember this: in opera we always say that the opera never takes place on the day that nothing happened. Remember all of those other days we aren’t shown: we can safely assume that alllll of those other days, and these are the majority by far, they lived together, cooking and taking out the trash and taking turns in the bathroom (that model of house would rarely have had a third bathroom on the third storey; that’s where the servants would have lived and they’d have used an outdoor privy at the time when this model of house was built, and the other bathroom would be in Mrs Hudson’s suite). They’d have taken cases and gone for midnight dinners at the Chinese restaurant on the corner and laughed at all of the wrong times and provoked speculation from anyone and everyone who ever saw them together. They’d have complained about their respective siblings and been a little nicer to each other every time one or the other was having a bad day. Think of Sherlock buying John beer after things with Sarah ended, according to John’s blog. Think of John, on his honeymoon, yet unable to just stop communicating regularly with Sherlock. They’re a damaged team, but nonetheless a team. Think of Sherlock knowing John so well that he could even predict that John would choose to leave him again, and how. They know each other in ways that no one else ever will, and I stand by that. 

I hope that helps? :)