#SMASH is a funny series if you ignore some bits ╮⁠(^_^;⁠)⁠╭

[call-me-copycat]

A better stain game show then the one already made

Here's the full thing then!

(In response to the previous ask, also this is my friend @ch33s3mam attempting to mess with me)

[t00thpasteface]

How do you like the mash movie?

I saw the series first, my dad is a fan and we used to watch it together, and was surprised at its more serious tone. Frank Burns also struck me as also a pathetic idiot but in such a different way and also has these evil vibes. Because of you I discovered the books, got them, and im having even more shocks!

i fucking LOVED IT. i was absolutely HOWLING the entire time. my favorite bits were:

the opening where you see the dangling arms of the bodies in the choppers??? oh my god. i was like GASP. the insane blood and gore was awesome and really drove home how petty and wacky everyone's being

hawkeye's stupid tinted glasses and bucket hat <3 sooo 70s.

mulcahy getting immediately ignored the second he's introduced. mulcahy basically acting like a frightened mouse in every scene he has. he is so sad. he's really not cut out for this

frank being introduced as an aggressive bible thumper (very funny contrast to the likeable and shy priest) so him cheating on his wife with margaret, who is also married, is even funnier

radar(!!) being the one who puts the mic under frank and margaret's bed

mulcahy hearing them bang, leaning in bc he thinks it's a radio program he enjoys, and going D: when he Realizes

suicide is painless. holy shit. did you know a 14 y/o wrote the lyrics? his dad said "i needed the lyrics to be extremely stupid, and 14 year old boys are masters of stupidity." mom just learned that and has been telling all her 50-60 y/o friends. also both versions in the movie are sung beautifully (and thus hilariously)

the unbelievable fruitiness of hawkeye and trapper at all points but especially in the golf related scenes

trapper spawning the olives out of nowhere. player.placeatme olivejar 1

bring me the sultry bitch with the fire in her eyes! (dramatic zoom)

RADAR STEALING HENRY'S BLOOD??

hawkeye's entire interaction with painless just SCREAMING "chaotic bisexual who's been out the longest of anyone in the friendgroup and will forcefully yank you out of the closet the second you start questioning"

racists do not get dignified with a response. racists get shoved out of their chair

DON'T LET HIM KISS YOU HAWKEYE!

frank getting carted away in a straitjacket and never seen again

margaret hating the idea of football until the general wants it and suddenly she's a cheerleader with pigtails bc she's completely spineless. god she's so evil in this i LOVE horrible evil women. full agency at being the worst person ever <333 i support women's wrongs and i love watching chicks who are just slow-motion car crashes

"i was thinking we should have some plays, cause yknow, football teams always have plays" "actually i took the liberty of drawing about seven or eight plays for us to try ^_^" "great! ...what do these arrows mean?"

MASH EM! SMASH EM! KILL, KILL, KILL!

OH MY GOD THEY SHOT HIM!!!

hawkeye suddenly not wanting to leave once he's actually able to 🥺

end credits being read over the loudspeaker like the other movie night announcements. so. cute.

okay sorry. good movie. i had fun and cried laughing ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[awaytobeunshaken]

Spinning Through Stardust (2613 words) by awaytobeunshaken

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ashton Greymoore/Orym, Fresh Cut Grass & Ashton Greymoore, Ashton Greymoore & Milo Krook Characters: Ashton Greymoore, Orym (Critical Role), Milo Krook, Fresh Cut Grass (Critical Role) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Space Opera, Futuristic with Magic It was supposed to be a basic cargo run. Drop shit off, get paid. Instead, Ashton's stranded on a moon at the ass-end of space, smashed half to bits with only their engineer for company.

Orym's been wandering the galaxy on his own since the attack that killed his husband. The work he's been doing for Lord Eshteross hasn't quite given him back a sense of purpose, but he'll settle for direction and companionship.

It seems like just chance that allowed them to meet. But what is chance, really, if not the culmination of all that came before.

Prologue: Abandon Ship "What the helling fuck?” Ashton shouted, mostly to himself, as he made his way down to the cargo hold among the debris that had once been his pride and joy. Up until whatever anomaly they’d jumped into had ripped half its systems apart and sent its crew scattering. “Milo!” they yelled, thankful to at least have personal comms. “Tell me you have some good news.” “There’s no way I’m gonna get these engines stabilized before they blow. We’ve gotta get out of here.” That was a ‘no’ then. “Just buy me a few more minutes,” Ashton replied, hoping his voice was still audible over the fizzling and hissing of the door panel leading to the hold. Half the shit in there was already trashed, but if they could at least salvage something it might still be okay. After all, it wasn’t his fault. That would mean something to most people. But Jiana Hexum had a reputation; she wasn’t an easy person to work for, but it meant she paid well if you needed some quick cash. It also meant she wasn’t someone you wanted to cross, even on accident. They were still trying to stack a few crates on the hover dolly when the explosion hit, sending Ashton flying across the hold, grasping for the contents of the now shattered crates as they flew with him. He didn’t recall much after that. Pain, mostly. Especially in their head. Begging Milo to leave without him, that maybe if he went down with the ship, Hexum wouldn’t concern herself with the rest of them. Milo ignoring them, scooping debris from the floor, then dragging them through the ship, Ashton clutching… something to their chest with one arm, the other… draped across Milo’s shoulder, they supposed. Funny how he couldn’t feel that arm at all. And then Milo finally, blessedly shoving them into the last escape pod—they left us one, that’s nice—and shooting it off into space. Milo’s voice, begging him, “Stay awake, Ashton. Please, just stay with me.” And they tried. Ashton Greymoore, who made it a point not to get played by anyone’s emotions, was also not gonna back down from a challenge. “C’mon Ash, please, just talk to me.” “I—” But that was as far as they got. Breathing was hard. Words were harder. Milo was keeping one eye fixed on Ashton even as they dug through the pod’s medkit. They didn’t think he could do it. So he would. Just keep his eyes open. Keep taking one raggedy breath at a time. Just keep his eyes

Chapter 1 on ao3

[aura-acolyte]

🎙 Where did you first get the idea for Mare?

//Okay, so, story time. Let me take you back to August 2018. The world had gone to shit, Avengers Infinity War had recently released in theaters, and I was a 14 year old boy (probably) who had just discovered the internet.

//I had taken to browsing TV Tropes in my spare time, still do but not as frequently. Something, something, ruin your life. Anyways, TV Tropes has many pages for many different things, far beyond just TV and Tropes. Among those was fanfiction and through it I discovered a treasure trove of ages long past. That Golden Fandom Era of great cringe.

//You see, most of TV Tropes' pages on fanfiction are for some pretty old stuff. They've got pages on newer fics too, its a great source of advertising, but the website was launched in 2004 it goes back ages and newer fics aren't crosswicked as much. So much of my fanfiction exposure was older stuff. The classics. And, of course, one of the fic types I came across was Nuzlocke fics. The idea of doing a Nuzlocke Challenge intrigued me, and the idea of writing a fic about it more so. And thus, my journey bega.

//I booted up my favorite game in the series, Pokemon Alpha Sapphire, and restarted. incidentally wiping several years worth of event legendaries and the event Blaziken I'd carried over from XY out of existance. I'm sorry XY Event Blaziken with Speed Boost and Blazikenite. You will be missed. What was I saying?

//Oh right, I restarted Alpha Sapphire, selected the female pc with blissful ignorance of my own gender fluidity, named her Mare, and began my run... I wrote one chapter and then gave up because I got too attached to the Pokemon and having to release them made me cry. But, while that was the end for that fic, it was not the end for Mare. I tried to write several more fics for her which, uh, weren't good and can hopefully stay buried forever. 14 year old me had a bit of a perverted streak that I am not proud of.

//Then roleplaying came into the picture. I've been roleplaying for... this'll be my 8th year roleplaying online. Jeez. Anyways, I used to do forum roleplays before I got kind of tired of that and stopped. Takes a lot of effort to maintain a forum roleplay and, honestly, a lot of the people on the site I used were assholes, elitists, gatekeepers, or all three. But I'm not here to trash talk people behind their backs.

//So, I started a Pokemon forum roleplay and repurposed Mare for it. Because my Nuzlocke fic was inspired by classic Nuzlocke fics, Mare could understand Pokemon for no explained reason other than to make it easier for the reader to grow attached to them before they die. I also gave her enhanced strength because I thought a teenage girl punching out Archie would be funny. Now, for the roleplay space, I had to explain it. Luckily, I remembered a movie I'd watched as a kid, Lucario and the Mystery of Mew, and also by that point it was 2020 and I was an avid Smash Ultimate player who mained Lucario. So I gave her Aura powers to justify it, added on Aura Vision, discovered Sapphire Pokespe existed halfway through making her character sheet and used her as Mare's faceclaim, and bada bing bada boom, Marie "Mare" Birch was born. But we aren't quite at final form Mare yet.

//In February of 2023 I joined Tumblr and one month later, in March, I discovered Pokemon IRL. Eager to join in, I created a blog for... Caleb Vixen, normal fox guy and intended self insert. I created Mare's blog 20 days later. When I created the blog I expanded her Aura Powers to include durability, healing, and any moves a Lucario can use (Aura Sphere mainly), and gave her the epithet Chosen of Rayquaza. Also, she was the worst. Like, she was still a hero but she was also an asshole. This was true of all versions of Mare up to that point. Its kind of incredible looking at her right now where her defining personality trait is being nice vs back when I started where her defining personality trait was being an asshole. Oh, also, when the blog started it had been six months since her Journey ended not five years I don't know how that happened.

//So, Chosen of Rayquaza, what did that mean? Nothing. I just thought it sounded cool. But, when I had Mare make a little joke about "I don't know what Chosen of Rayquaza means" it quickly gained a meaning, largely thanks to @pinkhairandpokemon, who introduced me to the concept of Chosen AUs which I had no idea existed at the time. Anyways, Mare ended up with Rayquaza powers and a savior complex and also became much nicer. Then a bunch of other stuff happened and a good chunk of it had to be retconned away and now you're here.

//tl;dr, she came from a Nuzlocke fic.

[prowerprojects]

*nods* Yeah, it's fine if Tails likes stereotypical kids stuff, it's one of the fun [and funny] things about watching kid genius characters. (Can make planes but is the first to dive into a ball pit)

I think one thing I've noticed recently; not limited to him or this series, is converting everyone older than said character into parental figures. And it kinda results in making everyone act the same around them; in contrast to canon.

(Shadow treating Cream like a little sister/apprentice is a hc as old as time in fanon. Charmy canonically looks up to Shadow; whether the latter considers him annoying depends on the writer. Him and Tails however, has always been complicated that it's hard to get a concrete reading on their relationship, but it definitely wouldn't be similar to Tails' bond with Sonic, imo.)

Yeah! Actually, one Boom episode has this sideplot: there's a science fair at the village, and the winner gets to shadow Tails at his workshop. Tails is super excited about it because people aren't usually interested in what he does in Boom. A girl named Beth wins, but she's not actually interested in it either, and soon ditches Tails to go look at Knuckles either smashing stuff or throwing it really far, because she's a kid and it's cool. Tails is like "ok, I can turn it around, I'm gonna explain the physics of what Knuckles is doing". But soon he gets distracted and even ignores Beth when she actually tries to ask him how it works because he's also a kid and throwing/smashing stuff is cool. (Generally I find Boom did this balance between him acting like a kid and being a genius specifically really well)

I wonder how they're gonna go about it in the mainline series. It is one of the points of Tails's appeal as a character, but he's also had a whole arc in Frontiers about growing up and such. Honestly if I had one thing I could get from his characterization in the next games, it would be to make him a bit more upbeat and excitable. (I understand he's been going through some stuff recently). I like the way he's written in tmosth and I've been keeping an eye on the Sonic Channel stories, I think they both have a pretty good balance between his more upbeat traits and his insecurities that still pop up from time to time.

The parental figures thing... I guess I kinda get it. When you're a fan of the younger character, especially someone who had a hard life, you want to see them being taken care of. If you're a fan of the older character, you want to see them being soft or show how responsible they are.

I do enjoy that Tails and Shadow have a bit of a complicated relationship. I guess it's just that they're not very close so the way they treat each other depends on the situation, this is pretty interesting! (I mean a lot of Sonic characters probably aren't very close, but with these two we can actually see it in their dynamic rather than assume) (Tbh I don't really want them to get closer, I don't think everyone needs to be all buddy buddy with each other, I'd much rather see the development between the characters who are already supposed to be friends but don't actually interact much, like Tails, Knuckles and Amy)

[vavuska]

Who changed Lola Bunny?

Malcolm D. Lee explained, “This is 2021. It’s important to reflect the authenticity of strong, capable female characters. … So we reworked a lot of things, not only her look, like making sure she had an appropriate length on her shorts and was feminine without being objectified, but gave her a real voice. For us, it was, ‘Let’s ground her athletic prowess, her leadership skills, and make her as full a character as the others.'”

(See the complete interview here: X)

So, gone are her curves, thigh-high drawstring shorts and midriff-baring crop top. Instead, Lola Bunny now takes on a sportier look wearing a more standard basketball vest and leggings under her track shorts.

But, let's see more deeply what determinated this choice:

1. Being mad at a fan art is sad, people.

Before, a sad 50 yo guy starts complaing about how "cancel culture" or "politically correct" ruined his life - Really? Changing a cartoon bunny from a movie you didn't see for a decade ruined your life? Wow. Someone should really review the list of their priorities -, let's see how really Lola looked in the 1996 original Space Jam.

Here we have original Lola Bunny:

(Here you can see all Lola's scenes in Space Jam: X)

Yes, Lola walked in a sexy way that show off her curves, or at least she seemed to have curves (a little breast, tight waist, long legs, bootie), but those are not big as in the fan art you are seeing around, and Lola's curves are not evidenced during the match or when she played. Is more her attitude and posture that made her look sexy. However, althought her curves clearly changes every time she is doing something different, from action to action, there are some scenes in which she is purposely made sexy, with saxophone music as soundtrack and male-gaze sections that ends in the same way, Lola surrounded by a bunch of horny and howling cartoon guys.

That's appropriate with Jessica Rabbit: she is purposely made and designed as a parody of the femme fatale from old hard boiler movies, in which attractive, mysterious women were portrayed as evil and manipulative gals who hide criminal intentions. Jessica, with her intentionally exaggerated body, subverted the misogyny of 40s and 30s detective movies: she is kind-hearted, truly loves her naive and goofy husband Roger and uses her powers (beauty and cunning) to protect him. Her body too is used for comic sketches, while this not happens for Lola, that's just a serious and indipendent basketball player. So, the male obsession for her body is out of place, expecially because she reacted with anger at being misconsidered only for being an attractive female bunny. “Don't call me doll” is her catch phrase. So, it seems strange she didn't react at all at the very sexualized presentation at the final basketball match: Lola simply shows her basketball skills, ignoring or accepting passively the reaction of the honey crowd of wolves around her. (Please, notice the association: Lola “admirers” are wolves, predators, while Lola, their object of desire, is a rabbit, a prey)

This is the cartoon version of cat calling: they are like a group of men who sit on their porches and whistle at girls everyday when they walk in from of them. A normal girl or woman would pass over this thing, even if they are bothered, unconfortable or embarassed, because they are more scared by a possible violent reaction of this whistling horny guys at their legitimate anger objections. But here, we are talking of Lola, a strong Looney Tunes bunny, and she could smash that damn basket ball on wolves' face, breaking all their teeth. That would be very a Looney reaction. But Lola doesn't react at all at this situation. Here, on my opinion, screenplayers missed an opportunity, but probably they thought to have already did too much with Lola's personality and “girl power”.

Remember also that Lola is the only young cartoon female character we see in the whole movie. So we can't do a proper comparison with other female relevant characters' rapresentation. (See here for a deeper analysis of Lola's origin and development: X)

However, compared with Bugs, Lola looks more fit, more humanized than Bugs. Lola has clearly a definited breast and booty, but it looks like is more her posture that makes them relevant. Lola has clearly shoulders back to show the rack. Bugs is anthropomorphic but remains an animal, has no shoulders or pectorals more like a human and looks a bit over-weight (fat belly). And his posture don't keep that stomach in, chin up, and march forward.

Lola, on the other hand, has a more human structure. That's why I say she has curves. An example are Mickey and Minnie who are two beans in the same way it is not that Mickey is a bean and Minnie has small tits, they are structurally alike.

Lola's body remembers highly No-Ribs-Jasmine from Aladdin (see the gif for reference). That unrealistic Barbie-like waist that was so popular in the 90s and 80s. (See here for references: X and X)

Now, we are changed a lot from the past 24 years. Barbies didn't have that impossible, unrealistic waist-line anymore, Disney princess concept has changed (see Merida and Moana).

Lola concept is changed in 2012: her design for the new cartoons is totally different and her personality too. She wear a blue or violet dress, almost flat-chested and she was made annoying and silly, just to make a contrast with Bugs smarter. Just like Daffy Duck is dumb as hell and his new girlfriend, Tina Russo (no more dear old Melissa Duck), is way smarter than him. Tina is tough, street-smart, rebellious and feisty. But we will see this thing in the next point.

2. People on the upper floors hated Lola personality.

Lola Bunny had only few lines in Space Jam, but she definitely passed the first impression that she was draw only for make male characters fall in love. Lola was a good basketball player and show it off, in front of a skeptical and then astonish bunch of cartoon guys and also Michael Jordan. She also had a strong personality and said it clear to Bugs she didn't like being called "doll". Lola was beauty and curvy, but not a cheerleader. Lola was a basketball player. Remember this part, because we will talk about basketball in the next point.

If at the box office Space Jam was a success, at Warner Bros there were those who turn up their noses, and they are important people, from the upper floors, who accused the film with Michael Jordan of having completely distorted the philosophy of the Looney Tunes. They blamed Lola Bunny more than everything else. Producers of Warner Bros said she was too perfect for the moody group of Warner cartoons: she was too sensual, provocative and independent, totally alien to that core of crazy characters that act as an exaggeration of the vices of 'man.

And fans hated her too. Chuck Jones, creator of the Merrie Melodies said: "Lola Bunny is a character with no future, she’s a totally worthless character with no personality."

So, Lola Bunny was deleted. Lola would make only some brief apparitions in some comics edited by DC Comics, in Baby Looney Tunes, in which she was a toddler with a very similar personality and resemblance to Space Jam adult version, and also as playable character in some unsuccessful videogames.

Years passed and projects for a sequel of Space Jam never become reality, so in 2003 Warner Bros relased Looney Tunes Back in Action. But Lola wasn't here, because the movie purposely want to make a deep cut with what we saw in Space Jam, according to what said it's director Joe Dante. This movie was a totally failure, but it gave back to Looney Tunes their craziness.

Years passed again, but this time is 2011, 10th of May on Cartoon Network was relased the second episode of The Looney Tunes Show. The series aimed to strongly relaunch the Looney Tunes, long gone from the glories of the past, updating the stories of Bugs Bunny and associates in a sitcom key, with the rabbit sharing a house with Daffy Duck in a suburb of Los Angeles. All interspersed with sketches by Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner done in CGI and the updated return of the Merrie Melodies. But the big news of the second episode is that LOLA BUNNY RETURNED.

And Lola was a character with some relevance within the series, even if something didn't seem right with her. Lola looked different, she was no longer the rabbit version of the femme fatale seen in Space Jam: she was naive, talkative, with her head in the clouds, crazy to the point of becoming Bugs Bunny's stalker. Bugs after having fallen in love with her at first glance understands on the first date that he absolutely can't stand Lola. She is no longer the Lola we used to know, even if the appearance is similar and the name is the same. Lola is effectively a Looney Tunes now. And the fans like her, the public like her, Warner Bros like her.

(See Lola in The Looney Tunes Show here: X)

But this is a big walk in behind from the indipent character we used to know in Space Jam. Lola was turned into the stereotype of the crazy girlfriend for a while. And this is not a surprise, if we remember that in 2012 were popular the "overly attached girlfriend" meme template. (See here for references: X)

However, in The Looney Toons Show Lola has some very funny moments, while in Space Jam she was more serious and a little out of space among the other characters. (See here for references: X)

3. What women wear when they play basketball?

Women's National Basketball Association was only created in 1996. So, women's basketball were not considered - and still is not considered - as important as men's basketball at the time Space Jam was filmed.

In Space Jam 2 there will be WNBA players with a significant role, for example Diana Taurasi and Nneka Ogwumike.

Professional female athletes aren't that curvy because curves are determined by body fat and they have a little.

As a busty volleyball player, I can say, dear people, breats could be very annoying during sport activities: it could be a pain, when you run or jump. That's because a lot of women wear sport bra to compress and support their breast. Sports bra may also include layered cups or a high neck to keep everything in place and protect from painful hits, so women can be safe and comfortable during workouts.

Female basketball players didn't wear crop-tops and tight shorts to play. They wear exactly what Lola wears in the picture above: long sleeveless tees, large shorts and maybe protective gears such as knee pads, sleeves or braces to reduce chronic pain caused by the immense burden put on the knees in basketball, to prevent bruises caused by collisions and hard fall and to provide support after a significant knee injury like an ACL tear. They could wear also compressive arms sleeves to help muscles that are sore or overworked to recover faster. The sleeve enables your blood flow to circulate quicker to the heart, which helps you heal and recover quicker.

Wow. WNBA wears Exactly what wear NBA players. So surprising.

4. This is only a promotional character sketch, not what Lola would look in the movie.

Space Jam 2 would be developed in CGI and there are a little preview frames going around, included one showing Lola jumping and you can see her breast shape. But she totally looks like a comic cartoon character. It's not humanized. It's not designed to be the sexy love interest. She doesn't look out of space among the others anymore, expecially because seems that there would be also Tweety's Granny and Melissa Duck or Tina Russo as players too.

5. Reality.

Really? You want a human anthropomorphic rabbit? Well, Lola as a rabbit would have something like six nipples, but no human-like breast. And, also, real life girls have ribs. No one in real life is that thin. Oh, well, if you don't considered Pixee Fox, a model who had surgically removed six ribs and wears daily a compressive bust corset (yes, like the one that made Elizabeth Swan faint in the first movie of Pirate of the Caribbean) to look like a cartoon fairy (Tinkerbell, you are the one to blame for this).

(See here for references: X)

In conclusion, we can say that all this controversy is based only on a porny fan art and that Lola “new” graphic isn't change too much from the original Space Jam movie. It's just a little more cartoonish.

We can also firmly remeber that Space Jam 2 is going to be developed for children, to relunch Looney Tunes among new generations of children, who are the largest buyers of merchandising (including Happy Meals surprises) and consumers of new cartoons that surely would be developed, if Space Jam 2 would be a success.

However, we should admit that those kids probably know better the 2011 version of Lola than her original version and that 2011 version was more appreciated by fans and producers. Lola's voice actress, Kristen Wiin won BTVA People's Choice Voice Acting Award in 2012 and was nominated for that prize also about three times in the following years. Also Rachel Ramras, Lola's voice actor was nominated for BTVA People's Choice Voice Acting Award in 2016 for her role in Looney Tunes: Rabbit Run.

We don't know anything about Lola's personality in Space Jam 2, so we can't do a proper comparison or a prevision, but, according to what Malcolm D. Lee said, we can assume that original personality of Lola would be preserved.

The controversy is relevant only for Lola's body and not for her personality, and that's is highly rappresentative of what impressed more this bunch of grow-up kids. They grow up to be like the horny wolves and they are howling because their prey is not available anymore.

And, to be honest, being so obsessed with the breast and the body of a cartoon character (that is clearly made up for kids) it's not sane at all. Sorry to say that, but sometimes people need to drink from a bottle of truth.

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | SIX

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 3,804

warnings: fluff. lots of fluff. a sprinkle of angst but just a tiny bit.

18+!!! minors stay away!

The following morning at school you relieved to see Peter standing at your locker, appearing unscathed aside from the timid and fearful look in his eye as he watched you approach him. You knew that he was probably expecting you to shut him out again, though you were full of surprises that morning when you breathed a quiet sigh and felt all the remaining anger purge from your system entirely. In reality you had been planning to give him a piece of your mind, telling him just how much of an idiot you thought that he was for his stupid idea, but seeing him sent all those thoughts flying away in an instant.

Instead, all that you could think of was how happy you were to see that he was okay. He was tense as you opened your locker, but seemed to relax slightly when you gave him a fleeting once over and nodded to yourself in approval. Peter was standing and didn't look to be in any pain, and that was all you cared about in that moment.

Apparently Peter was full of surprises too, because the second that you closed your locker he pulled you into a bone crushing hug that quite literally knocked the wind out of you. You gasped quietly, freezing in place at the sudden contact, before you slowly melted into his grip and hugged him back. He somehow managed to squeeze you tighter at the return of the embrace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into your hair, "I'm so, so, so sorry."

A part of you wondered if Peter even knew what exactly he was apologizing for, if he really understood just why you were upset. Did he know the sorts of things that had crossed your mind last night? Could he really fathom all the crazy emotions you had been feeling?

You didn't think he did. Really, how could he, when even you were still reeling and trying to pinpoint all the different reasons you had been so upset? There were the obvious reasons--like the horrible flashbacks to that fateful day when your sister had been tragically killed--but there were also more complex, subtle reasons that you weren't ready to admit out loud.

Things like the fact that you'd never been so enraged about anything as you had been at the thought of somebody hurting Peter Parker. Not even the animosity you felt toward the Avengers could compare to the fury you had felt while listening to him fight and be attacked by those men. It puzzled you; how could that affect you so much?

You knew why, despite your unwillingness to face the truth. You knew, deep down, that you had been so upset because the thought of Peter being hurt scared you nearly as much as you had been that day. It pained you to think of it, and that was a problem.

It was a problem because being friends with Peter, when he lived the life that he did, meant constantly living in that fear. He was a superhero, constantly putting his life on the line for all the innocent people of Queens and the world alike, and that was absolutely terrifying for you. And yet, for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to push him away like you felt you should.

He pulled away from you slowly, though he kept his hands firmly on your shoulders, and studied your face closely as he asked, "Are you okay? Are we okay?"

Hearing Peter say the word we in reference to himself and you gave you a funny feeling, but you ignored it. "Are you okay?" you parroted, instead, raising your eyebrows challengingly.

"Yes." he stated without hesitation, "I had some bruising, but it's mostly gone now. It wasn't as bad as it sounded, I swear."

You hummed quietly, leading the way to Calculus as he finally released his iron-like grip on your arms. "And was there a reason you didn't come to my window?" you questioned further, glancing back at the boy who chewed his lower lip anxiously.

Peter didn't answer until the two of you had sat in your seats, leaning close to speak in a hushed tone that no one else could hear, "I didn't want to scare you."

The sharp remark was instantly at the tip of your tongue, wanting to spit at him that he already had, repeatedly, but you held back at the sight of his big, brown, puppy eyes blinking at you shyly. He was fiddling with his fingers apprehensively, clearly waiting for some sort of remark, and it gave you pause. This was Peter, and Peter wouldn't hurt a fly intentionally.

You had to keep reminding yourself of that. Reminding yourself that he didn't mean to scare you like he had, and that he meant well even if his intentions didn't quite land right. So, you just whispered back, "It scared me when you didn't show up, and you didn't say anything."

"I--I didn't know if you wanted me to."

Catching one of his fretting hands in your own, you gave him a serious look as you replied, "I always want you to."

The teacher called the class to attention immediately after you closed your mouth, and you turned away with burning cheeks at the star-struck look on Peter's face. Perhaps that had been too bold of a statement, but it was the truth; you did always want to hear from Peter. You always wanted to know if he was okay, even if all he had to say to you was a bland text to let you know he'd survived another night of patrol.

Now, after all the things you had heard, you hoped he'd take your words seriously and let you in like you had for him. Could you go to sleep every night without knowing for sure he had made it through the night unscathed? Easily, the answer was no. You couldn't, and you really wanted him to put your mind at ease.

After gym class, which was spent with you panting whilst running sprints with Peter pretending to be just as winded, he held your bag for you beside your locker and waited patiently for you to exchange your books. You could tell that something was on his mind from the way he shifted from foot to foot nervously, and growing tired of having to chase your bag around, you asked, "What's your deal, Pete?"

He blinked at the nickname, but after a moment finally found his voice again, "Sit with me at lunch?"

"Okay?"

"No, like, sit with Ned, MJ, and I." he reiterated, and you wrinkled your nose. "Come on, I promise they'll love you! There's really nothing to be scared of, (Y/N)."

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him that there were in fact a million reasons for you to be scared, but he pouted his lips like a child and pleaded with you silently until you caved, "Fine, fuck, just stop making that face!"

And so, you found yourself trailing through the cafeteria awkwardly in Peter's shadow. You could feel the stares on your body even though you refused to look, the stares of all your fellow students watching the resident crazy girl make her way through the cafeteria all year. You usually sat at the table right by the doors and the garbage cans, the one place you could slip in and out without making a spectacle of yourself, but Peter's usual table was all the way in the back of the large room.

There sat Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones, both of whom were watching you curiously as you looked back at them in discomfort. You'd never known them to be mean--well, Michelle could mean in her blunt manner--but that didn't ease your nerves at all. The fear you felt wasn't because you were weary of their judgment.

You were scared of letting more people into your life. More attachments meant more for you to lose, and after all that you had lost, you were rather unwilling to put yourself out there. It was a surprise enough to yourself and probably everyone else that you'd made room in your caged heart for Peter. He was perhaps the most dangerous of all to let in, yet you had.

"Hey, (Y/N), right?" Ned greeted cheerfully, doing a weird handshake with Peter as the two of you sat down across from him and MJ. You just nodded, not trusting your voice to come out should you dare to speak. "How was the Stark Internship, dude?"

Your face pinched in puzzlement, and Peter chuckled at the way you glanced at him curiously. "She knows, Ned." he muttered, nudging your knee with his own as he pulled a smashed sandwich from his bag and unwrapped it. "It was... rough. I handled it, though."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the Stark Internship was a cover story for Peter's secret identity. "She knows? You told her, already?" MJ gaped, "No offense, but I had to figure that shit out for myself."

As Ned and MJ stared at Peter incredulously, the two of you shared a look as you begged him not to say anything and he scrambled to think of any sort of a cover story. "She--she helped me one night when I got hurt pretty bad. Had to take my mask off." he finally blurted, stumbling over his words, and you noticed how his eyes squeezed shut for a moment in frustration at his lame answer.

"Why didn't you call one of us?" Ned interrogated, eyes flickering between your own and Peter's as if he were trying to pick up on any dishonesty.

MJ, blunt as always, just asked, "Is that why you started following her around like a dog?"

You had to chuckle when Peter pouted, sticking his tongue out at Michelle's remark and whining, "I did not follow her around like a dog!"

"You kind of did." you mumbled quietly. All three of them stared at you in stunned silence for a few seconds, shocked by your sudden interjection, and you busied yourself with rearranging your carrot sticks.

Peter's knee bumped yours again, and you nudged his back. He shot you a little smile, pleased with you making an effort even if it was thoughtless, and you found yourself relaxing slightly under his gaze as MJ and Ned continued to joke about how much Peter had embarrassed himself following you around. "Remember when he threw all of his shit on the ground in Calculus?" Ned sputtered through laughter.

The brown-haired boy's cheeks blazed red at the story, and you found yourself laughing along with his two friends as you remembered it. At the time it had only embarrassed you, but now as you looked back on it, you couldn't help but to find it endearing. So, you nudged his knee again and bit back the grin fighting its way onto your face as you kept your eyes on your lunch.

Suddenly, he put his hand on your knee and squeezed it softly, and your entire body seemed to burst into flames. Before you could pull away, scared of the intense feeling it gave you, a voice cut above all the rest, "Penis Parker!"

His hand was gone in an instant, but you remained hot for an entirely different reason. Flash Thompson sauntered up to the table with his typical smug smirk, calling again, "Hey, Penis Parker! Finally find a girl miserable enough to settle for you?"

Peter's face turned red and pinched into a frown, but he just muttered quietly, "Go away, Flash."

"Figures you'd go for (Y/N). The whole dead family thing, right? Does she just get you?"

You tensed, turning your head slowly to glare up at Flash with a ferocity that seemed to even make him falter, though he hid it quickly behind his usual mask. "Go the fuck away, Eugene." you hissed, but he just laughed.

Seeing that he wasn't planning on going anywhere, punctuated by the way he propped his foot up on one of the seats and sneered down at you, you quickly grabbed all of your stuff and stood up. Peter, Ned, and MJ were quick to follow, and all four of you made your way out of the cafeteria as Flash shouted, "Aw, did I hurt your feelings, Penis Parker?"

"Peter?" you called after him, trailing behind as he walked at a brisk pace. Ned and MJ disappeared around a corner, heading off in a different direction, and you were trying to catch up with the boy who seemed eager to shake you off. "Pete?"

He slowed, sighing quietly, and turned to face you with still red cheeks and eyes swimming with anger. "What?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Briefly, you felt hurt at his attitude, but you brushed it off. You knew that he was just frustrated at Flash, and you were no stranger to misplaced anger. It would have been pretty hypocritical of you to be upset with him after how long he'd put up with you lashing out at him when he just wanted to be your friend.

You walked toward him hesitantly, almost reaching out to hug him, but you thought better of it in the end. You didn't want to push things too far, too fast, and one hug was more than enough for one day. Instead, you rocked back on your heels and asked, "Walk me to class?"

Peter blinked at the question, clearly expecting you to say something else, and after a moment nodded. "Yeah, yeah, let's go." He didn't relax at all as he walked beside you through the still empty halls, though his hand kept bumping yours every now and then, and for a fleeting second outside of your classroom he squeezed your hand before dropping it and walking away.

The rest of the day, Peter was stiff and aloof. He barely talked to you during Speech class, though that didn't really matter considering Ms. Lovell actually lectured that day, but you could tell he was upset. It felt a little strange to suddenly switch roles; he was now playing the part of the closed off one, and you were left trying to figure out how to get through to him.

Making people feel better wasn't exactly your strong suit anymore. Once upon a time it had been, but since your sister's death you'd seemingly lost the ability to even make yourself better. Yet, you wanted more than anything to get him back to the smiling, happy boy he'd been earlier that day.

As the two of you packed up your things after class to go home, you watched him anxiously to see if he'd finally say something, but he didn't. So, you cleared your throat and quietly asked, "Do you want to hang out?"

He paused for a moment, staring down at his bag in silence with tensed shoulders and creased brows, before finally looking up at you and giving the tiniest smile. "Come on." was all he said, zipping his bag and waiting expectantly for you to follow him out of the classroom.

You followed him out of the building, to the subway, onto the subway, and off of it again, all without a single clue as to where you were going. It wasn't until the he lead you into an apartment building that you realized he was taking you to his house, and suddenly you were extremely nervous. "Do you live here?" you asked, immediately cringing at the stupid question.

He just laughed, "Yeah. My Aunt May is home, she'll probably offer you food, but just say no. Trust me."

For a moment you wanted to ask why, but then you remembered how he'd told you when he'd first started following you around that his Aunt May was a truly atrocious cook. Except for cherry pie, it seemed, because he'd raved to you about that over the phone for what felt like hours the other day. Nodding affirmatively, you replied, "Right, just say no."

Peter's home life was far different from your own, even before the incident. His aunt was a bright, lively young woman who was very excited to meet you, and just as much of an affectionate person as you were finding Peter to be. She'd been overjoyed to meet you, letting slip that Peter had told her lots about you, but he'd cut her off before she could ramble about the things he'd said.

Part of you wondered if he'd told her how the two of you had met, but you knew better than to think Peter would do such a thing. He wasn't the type of person to spill others' secrets. How could he, when he had such a big secret of his own?

His room was everything you had expected it to be, though. A cramped little room with bunk beds adorning Star Wars sheets, LEGOs everywhere, and a plethora of computer parts littering every possible surface. He blushed a little as you took it all in, stammering when you smirked at the sheets in amusement, but overall he seemed relieved when you didn't mention the clutter.

It was very Peter Parker. Messy, slightly chaotic, and very nerdy. You sat on the bottom bunk, which you deciphered to be his by the rumpled sheets, and watched as he awkwardly tried to sort out the mess a little. "So," you started, "why don't you stand up to Flash at school?"

He sighed, giving up on his tidying and sitting beside you. "I knew you would ask that." he joked, though the humor didn't quite meet his eyes. "It's a long story."

"I have time, Pete." you spoke softly, and a little smile twitched at his lips.

He raked a hand through his messy hair, the combed style starting to curl from a long day, and you wondered what his hair looked like with nothing done to it. "Well, I guess it all goes back to when I first got... my abilities. You know, after the bite, I kinda went crazy for a bit. I was determined to prove myself, or something--I don't know. I just showed off a lot and got myself into a lot of trouble because of it."

Peter continued when you looked at him expectantly, "My Uncle Ben was going crazy too, trying to figure out what was going on with me. We got into a lot of fights before he--before he, um, died. We got into one the night he died."

"He tried to stop me from going out because he just knew I was going to do something I shouldn't, and we just got into this huge argument. It ended with me telling him he wasn't my dad and to stop pretending he was, and I ran off." He was getting choked up, stumbling over his words and gripping his knees with his hands as tears welled up in his eyes at the memories.

Hesitantly, you put your hand on top of his, and he was quick to flip his hand over and grip yours tightly as if he were afraid you'd pull away from him. As he spoke, it was starting to sink in just how much Peter truly could understand your anguish over your sister. He could understand why you blamed yourself, because he too had blamed himself, and your heart broke at the thought of Peter ever being in a position like the one you'd been in that night.

Had he ever tried to do what you had planned to do? Your own eyes burned at the thought, and you squeezed his hand back just as tightly. "He came looking for me, and happened to interrupt a robbery. Uncle Ben, he--he was a really good guy. He couldn't just let the guy get away. So, he uh, he tried to stop him... and the guy stabbed him."

"I'd seen the robbery before that, but I'd been so angry I just kept walking. I could have stopped it before Uncle Ben ever showed up, but I didn't, and he got stabbed because of it." Peter coughed to stop himself from really crying, "The last thing he said to me was that with great power comes great responsibility, and I just can't let him down."

You almost wished that you hadn't asked, because it hurt to see him in so much pain, but you felt good knowing that Peter really did understand you. You felt closer to him, and a little part of you felt a little less distaste for superheroes in that moment too. Did they all know such tragedy? Did they all suffer such pain, too?

Peter looked at you, blinking away tears as his voice steadied, "So, that's why I don't use Spiderman unless I have to. I didn't stand up for myself before, so I shouldn't now. I didn't play sports before, so I shouldn't now. It wouldn't be fair, and it wouldn't be right. I have this gift, and it's my responsibility to use it for good. I can deal with Flash's stupid taunting--I was so upset today because of what he said about you."

The fluttering was back, stronger than ever, and you couldn't shove it aside no matter how hard you tried. The moment was too serious--too heartfelt. It was too close.

Doing what you did best, you created a little more distance to keep your heart safe. You weren't ready to admit that maybe you liked Peter in a not-so-friendly sort of way. You weren't ready to let him into that last little bit of your heart.

So, you joked, "Well, he was right about one thing--I do get you." To your relief, he laughed, though he didn't let go of your hand. You didn't want him to, either.

"Seriously, though, you don't have to worry about me. Flash doesn't bother me, not really anyways." Peter continued, and the pair of you smiled at each other like a couple of love-struck fools for a long moment. Peter, unlike you, wasn't so keen on or capable of hiding his feelings. It was written all over his face for you to see that he liked you, and even if it made you feel good it still made you squirm with discomfort.

You were just thankful that he hadn't tried to take things further, though the subtle touches were probably his timid way of doing just that. The touches you could handle. It was what came after--the truly taking things to that next level part--that scared you. If you told him how you thought you were feeling, and he told you the same, then that just made the possibility of losing him that much worse.

SERIES TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb @sweet-symphony

[washymylifeaway]

Haikyuu fanfic recs but they’re funny (to me LOL)

I made an angst pt 2 fic list (which is linked here), but while I was making it I thought screw this sad stuff. Time to make a meme post. So here are some fics that made me bust a lung (or something along the lines of that). Yeah some most of these are cp, but go read them again idc, they’re funny and that’s that. My sense of humor is a tad bit broken, so keep that in mind as you read these (cause if you don’t think they’re funny, you’re probably right but stupid things make me laugh hehe). Don’t judge me too hard LOL. Also some of these are more fluff or whatever just take it ahahahaha.

As per usual, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for each fic before reading (just to be safe cause they curse a lot LOL) and make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) Stay healthy loves <3

CP:

The SakuAtsu meme drabble fic CAUSE IT’S FUNNY /SakuAtsu/ it’s literal art. The creativity and skill that went into this,,, PLEASE if anything, just speed read it. I LOVE IT SO MUCH AHAHAHA.

Add New Contact by booksong (G) 8.5k /DaiSuga/ this one! It’s so cute and poor Daichi LOL. He really out here doing the most,,, Anyway, we love tech Suga, and a nice dash of snarky tsukki (LOL is he salt, yes yes he is). It’s very fluff and pine, so if you want to read Daichi having gay panic like 24/7, go right ahead LOL. 

Camellias by kiyala (T) 1.9k /KyouHaba/ I really love magic and their interactions are so cute and the PLANTS ARE DOING THE MOST. Pls read both in the series, cause domestic KyouHaba is best KyouHaba ngl LOL. I love the plants, and if you read the second one, someone tell the trees to stop bullying Yahaba.

This gets annoying fast, Makki by Ink_stained_quills (G) 2.3k /MatsuHana/ IM IN LOVE WITH THIS SERIES PLS I COULD NOT STOP CRYING TEARS OF LAUGHTER. This AU needs more fics PLEASE. It was SO freakin’ funny and the other teams KILLED ME. Like how they all approached the problem differently and how some of them (KUROO) asked for help LOL. Please this is so freaking funny go read it.

Sixth Time's the Charm by tsumekakusu (T) 2k /KyouHaba/ ok THIS was SO FREAKING funny, please Yahaba how dumb can you get LOL. The number thing made me facepalm so hard, but the ending was cute and that’s all that matters, right?

rated m for by orphan_account (T) 10.7k /MatsuHana/ I love this fic it made me laugh so much throughout the whole thing! The vibes in this fic are immaculate and give me life (we love a good reunion with mystery writers) please, it really is SO good!

Sleep by GangstaCrow (T) 5.5k /KyouHaba/ the plot twist.... omg.... I had to pause and take a moment of silence for the people suffering because of LL... Poor Kyoutani.....

The One With The Spies by hangoverhater /Multi (but mainly IwaOi)/ PLEASE,,, the fics in this series? HILARIOUS. THE SECOND FIC ”Well, this is a nice change of scenery.” “It’s a prison cell.” “I was being sarcastic.” HAD ME DYING. Poor Daichi, he really needs those days off :)))))

smiles like yours are hard to come by by bonnia (T) 1.9 /KuroKen/ I was so akjfkajsdnf this entire fic PLEASE the lines he used omfg. They’re such classics but I still reacted to each one WITH PASSION LFMAKJNAKNKA. This is such a keyboard smash fic (hence the keyboard smash) because I kept being like THE FLUFF IS TOO MUCH, but is it ever really enough? (dang am I a poet LMAO).

New:

take me to the limit, hold me down there by volchitsae (E) 3.8k /SakuAtsu/ I ADORE THIS FIC. LOVE LOVE LOVE it and the rate my teacher comments? HILARIOUS. It’s only explicit at the very end (cause of some ~spice~), so if you don’t want to read it cause it’s E, just don’t finish it (JK LOL BE SAFE).

THE WIENER SOLDIERS by damianwayne (T) 46.7k /MULTI/ literally it’s a texting fic. THESE ARE SO FUNNY. I really liked this one, and it made me laugh regularly. I love the Yahaba vs Shirabu agenda, and it’s just really chaotic so maybe that’s why I think it’s so funny LOL.

behavioural response of the msby black jackal to newfound independence: a study by miya osamu by spacedhowell (T) 11.4k /a mess/ THE WAY I CALLED IT. JFJKADKLAJHDFA this one is so funny and it just escalates. The situation just kept getting worse and I just kept laughing. This was just so chaotic, I loved it LOL.

a little bit funny, this feeling inside by postcanons (G) 5.4k /KyouHaba but also a mess LOL/ PLEASE THIS ONE omg crow matchmaker ftw. Like I said, I really love magic and this one is just so freaking funny. Also, very informational curtesy of one Kyoutani Kentarou.

bet on it by selenophim (T) 13.3k /SakuAtsu/ this is just one long drawn out joke and I love it. It’s so funny how NO ONE really expected it (and some betrayal by one Miya Osamu), and it’s just some comedic genius!!!

Clipped To You by littleboat (T) 8.1k /SakuAtsu/ okay first of all THERE’S ART, second I love Omi in hair clips <3333 It’s really funny with lots of ~pining~ Atsumu and there’s cameo’s of other players,,, it’s just a great time :D

meet me at the fucking pit (and let me hold your hand) by anyadisee (T) 5.4k /KyouHaba/ IF THE TITLE ISN’T MAKING YOU LAUGH ALREADY WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING????? (JK but am I really?) This was SO funny and it KILLED me,,, like all the conspiracies and how everyone was so seriously invested in it. Yes, CHAOS.

call me maybe by totooru (T) 33.6k /MatsuHana/ okay yea another (semi) chat fic,,, fight me. MatsuHana are just funny in general but throw some other characters (like Kuroo) into it and it turns into a comedy show. But the main point of this fic was like the near miss meetings and I think that the misunderstanding were hilarious (as much as I hate misunderstandings LOL).

This is it FOR NOW ;) If you want more, send an ask,,, I have more LOL. Also sorry for the sheer number of CP’s I did from my other posts teehee,,,, I was lazy okay? If you read my angst fic lists, read this to offset the sad. You need to,,,, a must not an option! Also, ignore the way I lean towards more of some ships than the others,,, fic writers just tend to make some ships funnier than the rest :’))))

[mst3kproject]

The Neanderthal Man

Since I'm taking a break from fishmen, I might as well let Bigfoot catch up a bit.  The Neanderthal Man isn't exactly a Bigfoot movie, but it’s along the same lines and its entire starring cast has MST3K pedigrees.  Robert Shayne was in Indestructible Man and Teenage Caveman. Richard Crane was Rocky Jones, Space Ranger! Beverly Garland was in Swamp Diamonds and Gunslinger. Even the composer, Albert Glasser, wrote music for Invasion USA, Last of the Wild Horses, and almost all of MST3K’s Bert I. Gordon movies.

Some little mountain town in the middle of the Sierras (which the Portentous 50's Narrator takes some trouble to tell us is a primeval place where 'the defacing hand of civilization has fallen but lightly') is having a rash of saber-toothed tiger sightings!  At first these are laughed off, but when the game warden himself sees one cross the road in the middle of the night, it's time to do something about it.  The warden shows a cast pawprint to Dr. Ross Harkness in Los Angeles, who is interested enough to come up and see for himself. Local Mad Scientist Dr. Groves pooh-poohs the whole thing, which is enough to tell me that we're not dealing with a local cryptid here.  Somebody is making prehistoric monsters.

So... I may not have actually run out of movies, but I seem to be running out of plots, because this is a remarkably similar movie to Monster on the Campus. The major difference between the two films is that Dr. Blake turned himself into a caveman by accident, while Dr. Groves here is doing it on purpose.

Another difference is that Monster on the Campus' story, while silly, was linear – events escalated in a way that felt logical, and there were reasons why things happened when and where they did.  By contrast, The Neanderthal Man feels like a first draft.  At the beginning of the film, we're dealing with the saber-toothed tigers that Groves has been creating by injecting cats with his de-evolution serum.  We hear about these slaughtering game and livestock, and it seems like only a matter of time before they move on to human beings.  The beginning of the film is quite upfront about the fact that Groves is responsible, too, as it is only mildly mysterious in its depiction of one of the creatures escaping his lab.

Sometimes the saber-tooths are represented by an actual tiger, usually filmed from behind or at a great distance so nobody has to put the prosthetic teeth on it.  They do have prosthetic teeth, but they're only visible in a couple of shots. Imagine being at a bar and some guy tells you his job is sticking fake fangs on real tigers for a caveman movie!  For close-ups, there's a hilarious puppet head that looks like the sort of thing you'd see mounted on a frat house wall as a joke.  The director had the sense not to linger on this in motion shots, but later we see still photographs Groves has supposedly taken of his experimental subjects and they're even stupider-looking than we imagined.

Anyway, this goes on for a while with rising action, as the game warden goes to get Harkness and they manage to shoot one of the animals, only to have it vanish from the kill site when they try to show it to Groves (the movie never bothers to explain how that happened, incidentally. The ending suggests that the creatures change back when they die, but there's definitely no dead kitty cat at the scene, either).  The whole movie could easily have just had the cats and their creator as the antagonists, perhaps even ending the same way as Dr. Groves proves his work to the other characters by injecting himself. That's not what happens, though.  Instead, the story mostly forgets about the cats one we find out Groves has also been carrying on human experiments.

(Before himself, Groves' first experimental subject was his disabled Latina housekeeper.  Another series of photos show her half-transformed into a cavewoman who for some reason is wearing drag queen false eyelashes.  And as long as I'm talking about the movie being gross and bigoted, there's a bit where a woman is violently raped.  This happens off camera, but the audience is not allowed to entertain any illusions about it.)

The problem is that before we see him give himself an injection in the arm, we have had absolutely no indication that Groves has been giving his serum to anything besides the cats! Cats are stealthy, cryptic creatures and if one of those has been seen wandering around killing things, then surely a full-on caveman beating people to death would not be able to stay out of sight!  If what we were seeing were the first time Groves had tried the formula on himself then that would be an explanation, but his notes reveal that he's been doing it for so long that he's on the verge of losing control of the transformation and permanently reverting to a pre-human status, as indeed he does for the climax.  Much like the stupid dinosaur in The Beast of Hollow Mountain, the movie's main monster is given no build-up whatsoever!

There's worse yet, though.  The main characters, Dr. Harkness and Groves' daughter Jan, are barely involved in the 'caveman' part of the plot. They get phone calls about the various murders that Groves is committing in caveman form, and they snoop around the lab to figure out things the audience already knows.  The same story could have been told without them, perhaps with the game warden and the hunter as protagonists, and it would probably have been more interesting. The script also repeatedly has Dr. Groves wander in and bluster about how the tiger sightings are hallucinations and tall tales, which seems a little unnecessary when we already know he's responsible. The film-makers can't seem to decide whether they want us to know that or not.

Dr. Groves wears glasses.  Maybe the reason his primitive alter-ego is angry and breaking shit (although it does politely open and close the window it climbs out of, which made me laugh) is because it can't see. This is also my theory about why the Hulk smashes, and what do you know?  In Avengers Endgame he's got Hulk-sized spectacles and only smashes when he's told!

The direction of The Neanderthal Man can probably best be described as 'serviceable'.  It shows us what's going on, but doesn't particularly add anything to the proceedings.  The 'Neanderthal' mask is immobile and uninteresting, not much better than somebody's Party City Sasquatch costume.  Even the eyes are just painted on, meaning the poor guy in the costume can’t do much because he can’t see where he’s going.

The dialogue is often very strange, with characters talking like they're in a Jules Verne novel. If only one person did this, it might seem like a character quirk – it works for Dr. Groves, for example – but it's everybody. Seeing the cat carcass is gone, Harkness declares, “I refuse to believe in the supernatural!  There must be some logical cause and effect to this unholy adventure!”  Groves' fiancee Ruth berates him for ignoring her, saying, “I want you, the man I once knew!  The good companion, the cheerful friend.  I want the happiness we once found in each other.”  It's bizarre to listen to, and often audibly awkward for the actors.

Monster on the Campus was kind of trying to be about how humanity must choose to evolve away from our inner savage, although the finale didn't bear that out.  There's a scene in The Neanderthal Man in which this movie seems to be trying to go in the opposite direction, saying that we were never savage to begin with.  Dr. Groves is speaking to a panel of scientists about the size of the brain in various 'primitive' species of human.  He points out that by the time we reached Homo erectus we were already working with four times the cerebral jelly of a chimpanzee, and argues that our ancestors would have been recognizably human in their behaviour and problem-solving capacity.

(Amusingly, his chart of human evolution includes Piltdown Man, which was proven to be a hoax literally a few months after this movie's release.  What makes this even more tragic for the writers is that their list of primitive humans seems to be the only place where they actually did any research.)

The problem with Dr. Groves' theory is that he already knows it's wrong. We soon learn that he's been experimenting on himself with his serum for a while already, and his notes show that he knows very well he regresses into a near-mindless animal.  The movie does not even try to reconcile these ideas.  If Groves were continuing his experiments in the hope that perfecting his serum would give him a more accurate reconstruction of ancient man, that would be one thing, but the script never goes there.

So now that we've had two 'man turns into caveman by injecting science juice' movies, of course I have to ask which one is better.  Monster on the Campus wasn't a good movie but it was definitely an improvement on The Neanderthal Man in several respects, and although I don't have any way to find out for certain, I suspect it was an intentional remake.  It's definitely more entertaining and gets bonus points for including the Meganeura dragonfly, but nothing in it is nearly as funny as The Neanderthal Man's fake tiger head.  I guess if you're gonna watch one or the other, stick to Monster on the Campus, but if you're gonna watch both, start with The Neanderthal Man and do them in chronological order, the better to spot the inspirations and references.

Before I go, a fun paleontology fact: current thinking is that the saber-toothed cat's eponymous fangs actually didn't show when it had its mouth closed!  There are zero cave paintings or ancient sculptures of a saber-tooth cat with teeth visible, and when scientists looked at the structure of the enamel in the canines, it suggested that in life the teeth were hidden by big, fleshy, St Bernard jowls.  Google 'smilodon lips' and behold how this looks fully three hundred percent more ridiculous than you're imagining.  I love nature.

[iamanartichoke]

[please blacklist spoiler tags: #loki tv series spoilers, #loki series spoilers, #loki spoilers]

Yes, I did just watch episode 2 at 5:30 in the morning.

No, I am not sorry. Not at the moment, although when I inevitably crash later this afternoon, I will be.

Just some very, very quick - and scattered and messy - thoughts: That is a straight up lie; they’re definitely scattered and messy but not very quick at all.

Under the cut for spoilers and length.

I’m going to start with Loki’s characterization. My honest opinion is that Loki’s overall characterization feels like a fic characterization. He definitely is not Avengers Loki, like, at all. I don't know if Tom just, like, forgot how to play that Loki or ...?? That, or Loki was so much more mind-controlled than we realized and getting hulk-smashed just completely reset him back to zero but also fucked him up a little bit and affected his personality, kind of like how some people completely develop weird new personality quirks after a traumatic brain injury.

… yeah, I think that’s where I’m gonna land for now. TV series!Loki feels like a more-or-less canon version of Loki, but if that Loki got hit in the head really hard and now he’s just a little bit fucked up but overall no worse for the wear. Which - it may be that it’s so early in the morning, but that’s actually really fucking funny to me, lmao. God, I kill me. It’s not funny.

No, but, that’s pretty much how I feel. He’s ooc but he’s also ic, and the reason I’m not particularly bothered by the inconsistency, for lack of a better word, is because that’s what pretty much every fic Loki already feels like to me? (Including my own, so I’m not, like, saying that in a derogatory way.) Which is why I say Loki feels like a fic!Loki and to try to explain it better - there is always, for me, a little suspension of disbelief that I employ when I read fic. The reason for that is because the context, the plot, and the dynamics of the fic are usually pretty different than what we ever get in canon, so it becomes a matter of taking film!Loki and, like, bending him a bit in order to fit him into the perimeters of the fic.

The result ends up being that I don’t see the exact Avengers!Loki or TDW!Loki, and thus by definition the portrayal is ooc, but the version that I do see feels like a genuine extension of the canon version, possessing enough of Loki’s overall traits and characteristics that he feels authentic, albeit a bit pretzeled for the new context.

I honestly think that’s something that’s unavoidable, just due to the fact that in fic - and now, in this series - there are a lot more variables at play than there are in the films, wherein Loki is not just a supporting character but also the villain/antagonist and is therefore very limited in what he does/what the narrative allows him to do. When those limitations are taken away, what are we going to see? Probably a lot of different things, and yeah, a lot of them are going to feel a little ooc. And, like in fic, even if the characterization mostly lands, there are definitely bits and pieces (some fics more than others lean this way) where the author didn’t stick the landing or got carried away or otherwise probably forgot for a while that they were writing Loki, not their own OC.

That’s the point where it strays into cringe territory for me (and where the ‘heh, he’s Loki but with a brain injury’ aspect comes in), but while I had to consciously decide to just ignore those moments, overall the tone in this episode felt a bit more balanced between the new, the old, and the cringe, and less whiplash-y from the beginning of the episode to the end.

… I have no idea if that makes sense, but what I’m basically saying is that while I am enjoying this version of Loki, I do recognize all of the ways he’s ooc but, unlike how I feel about Ragnarok!Loki, the ooc-ness feels genuine and unavoidable rather than just a fundamental and careless misunderstanding of the character altogether. In other words, I feel like any ooc-ness here is happening despite the writers taking care to do their best, and isn’t just a result of Loki being lazily written by a person or persons who just doesn’t want to bother with him at all.

Again, I don’t know if that makes sense, but fuck it, there we are and I’m moving on.

I liked all of the little details, including again, things that felt straight out of fic, like Loki asking Mobius why he has the jetski magazine. (Also, if any of my thorki friends read this, was I the only one who noticed that when we see Loki reading the magazine, it just happens to be open to a page with a picture featuring a jet skier who looks like Thor? l.m.a.o.)

Loki interrupting things to explain the difference between illusions vs the other power (I can’t remember which one, off hand, and if I stop writing to go look it up I will lose my train of thought and not finish this) was great, but his overall input and contributions to the missions inspired very mixed feelings for me. On the one hand, I loved that the narrative, via Loki, is reminding us of all these things that he’s capable of that the films generally left out or brushed aside or ignored - but, every time he spoke, he was met with eye rolls and sighs and just a general feeling of “someone please shut this guy up” and I didn’t like the narrative treating him that way.

But also, it’s understandable bc none of the people on his team are actually on his team. None of them want him there (story of Loki’s fucking life), none of them trust him, and none of them are particularly interested in hearing what he has to say. So it’s like, I understand why they reacted the way they did, and I don’t think their reactions are meant to support an overall narrative undermining of Loki’s skills and input - but, the tone is hard to read for me bc I am very defensive and protective of Loki. I can’t quite determine the line between the TVA agents being unreliable narrators (ie, they’re annoyed by Loki bc of who he is to them, but that doesn’t mean the audience is supposed to feel the same) and the TVA agents validating that Loki is just being a nuisance (and, thus, the audience is supposed to feel the same).

That is, I know how I am consuming the narrative (that they’re unreliable narrators), but I’m not sure if that’s how tptb are intending for me to consume the narrative - and I guess it doesn’t really matter, but it’s worth mentioning.

In general, I really liked, again, Loki existing in his own space and watching the way he carried himself. I especially found it interesting that his hands were almost always in his pockets - for one thing it's a stance I tend to imagine him taking often in fic, but also it’s kind of a weird choice bc pockets don’t seem to be a thing in Asgardian clothing. It makes me feel like Loki is the kind of person who never knows what to do with his hands but is always conscious of them, as is common among anxious and self-conscious people, and I just find that relatable on a weird level.

I am really kinda torn on Mobius in this episode; when not interrogating Loki, he’s much less antagonistic toward Loki and therefore I’m more inclined to take-him-or-leave-him but I’ll go ahead and take him I guess. Yet at the same time, bc he’s not interrogating Loki he’s also not trying to put on a show for Loki and when you take that away, he really doesn’t seem to like Loki at all. It supports that Mobius only wants what Loki can do for him and doesn’t actually particularly care about him as a person, which is fine and more or less what I figured, but it contributes to me not really being able to decide how I feel about him in general. Idk, though, I kinda like their dynamic? Like I want them to end up friends?

Regardless, Tom and Owen have amazing chemistry and it’s really funny to me bc (not to be a jerk) I honestly didn’t know Owen Wilson could act. Like, I’ve never seen him in a role where he wasn’t just playing Owen Wilson. So for him to not only be playing Mobius so well but also having such chemistry and a sense of holding-his-own against Tom Hiddleston is like, color me surprised but pleasantly so.

I like B-15 a lot, even though she obviously hates Loki, so idk why I like her but I do. I like Renslayer less, but meh. (Side note - when I was in undergrad in Syracuse, I took the Amtrak from Syracuse to Boston and back more than a few times, for reasons that aren’t relevant, and that route always had a layover at Albany-Rensselaer and every single time I see Renslayer’s name, I want to call her Rensselaer instead.) Shout out to the guest appearance by Casey, sorry Loki stole your juice lmfao.

The moments from the trailer that were very cringe were less so in context (though still kinda cringe, tbh). I think we’ve seen most of the content from the trailers in the first two episodes now, though, which means going forward, it’s going to be like 95% previously unseen material (aside from the brief apocalyptic shots and so forth).

One thing I fucking loved was how Loki, reading about Ragnarok, was visibly affected and even teared up a bit, and you could tell he was in his feels about it, but then later when Mobius expresses sympathy, Loki is just like, “Uh huh, very sad, but anyway.” It was a subtle (well maybe not that subtle) but effective way to remind us that what Loki presents to other people is more often than not a mask and he keeps his true feelings close to the chest. It makes last week’s breakdown have even more of an impact, I think, bc clearly Loki was at the end of his rope to allow himself to show that much raw emotion and vulnerability, but also - for me - there’s a niggling little doubt there that wasn’t there before, in that there was probably more performance in it than I thought.

By which I mean, I think his reaction to the film of his life when he was alone was genuine but, while I previously thought his admission to Mobius later was also genuine, I now think was probably half genuine and half performative. I know others already figured that out, but I’m a little slow and, also, I don’t mind changing my opinion and interpretation from week to week.

Along the same lines, I wasn’t exactly surprised to see that Loki is “undercover” in the TVA, but it was nice to see it acknowledged fairly quickly. Not sure I buy that Loki wants to overthrow and rule the TVA - it’s still a little too “Loki only wants a throne” for me, but again, just because that’s what he told the variant doesn’t mean that’s actually what he’s after.

And, finally, I like the variant, I love Loki’s reaction to seeing her, and while I realize that the show has acknowledged Loki’s gender fluidity and we’re meant to assume that Lady Loki (I guess? Not sure if we’re going with that or not here) is Loki, I saw a theory somewhere about how this is actually not Loki-Loki, but - I wanna say her name Sophie but that’s the actress, again I can’t go look it up bc I will lose my train of thought - but it’s a character who is similar to Amora and who was created by Loki and models herself as Loki but she’s actually someone else.

Ugh I can’t remember the details of the theory, but I am kinda going with it bc I don’t think that Loki would look so - not surprised but just kind of “oh, well, I wasn’t expecting that” if he were seeing the female version of himself. Like, he doesn’t seem to recognize her the way I assume he would recognize himself, male or female. Not only does that make me feel like she’s actually someone else, but also not recognizing her as the female version of himself doesn’t necessarily mean Loki doesn’t recognize her at all. He may very well recognize her as this other Amora-similar character and, if so, I really want to see how that character fits with MCU Loki (as I think she’s a comic book character but, again, I’d have to go back and find that theory).

Edit: I found a version of it here.

Overall score, B-. Mostly solid, but needs moar Loki breakdowns and tears. (That's just me, don't fucking judge me.) Also, I really hate that we have to wait a week between episodes. I wish they were following Netflix’s method of dropping the entire season at once but, then again, if they did that, I’m not sure any of us would survive.

I gotta get ready for work and I deleted and rewrote so much of this and it still seems nonsensical to me, lmfao fml. Anyway feel free to interact/send me asks/whatever, it’s going to be a long fucking day with all of this on my mind. I’ll be working my way through my dash as best as I can.

Oh, also! Loki is so fucking pretty in this episode! The TVA suit is ugly, but he makes it work, and his hair's combed nicely and he looks like he finally got an opportunity to sleep and shower and eat something and, yknow, it's working for him.

[ebaeschnbliah]

Still at the centre of the web ….

For the 10th Anniversary of Sherlock BBC (July 2010) the Royal Mail released a lovely collection of six stamps, that display key characters from several episodes of the TV show, as well as hidden messages only revealed under UV light.  (X)

I took a closer look at those stamps in the Anatomy of a Stamp Series:  A Study in Pink   The Great Game   A Scandal in Belgravia   The Reichenbach Fall   The Empty Hearse   The Final Problem

Alongside those stamps and in partnership with The Royal Mint (X),  a special medal has been crafted as well to ‘celebrate Sherlock’s genius – and his nemesis’ ... to explore Sherlock’s ‘turbulent relationship with arch-rival Moriarty’ as the description says. 

A little sideways glance at that medal and the collage of images with which it is surrounded couldn’t be wrong, I thought. :)

TBC below the cut .....

That anniversary medal is available in two versios (cupro-nickel&sterling-silver) and it displays:

on one side - Moriarty’s message ‘Get Sherlock’, the note he carved on the Crown Jewel glass case in TRF, to invite Sherlock to play his game

on the obverse side - ‘The Game is on’, which is meant to be Sherlock’s modern take on the literary version ‘The Game is afoot’

James Moriarty is known to be the famous archenemy of Sherlock Holmes. Contrary to canon, Sherlock BBC introduced that character already in the first episode A Study in Pink and Jim commits suicide (alongside Sherlock) in the sixth episode of the story, which consists of 13 so far. According to canon, Sherlock fakes his suicide and comes back after his hiatus. Although Jim is considered to be really dead for years by now, notes and messages of the character turn up repeatedly on various data carriers ... electronic as well as paper. 

Interestingly, it has been chosen for the 10th anniversary of Sherlock BBC to create fan memorabilia which focuses mainly on the confontration between Sherlock and Jim, whose life ended rather quickly at Bart’s roof in The Reichenbach Fall. A great honour for a character who is long dead and seems to be irrelevant for the ongoing story of this adaptation, in which another character - Mary - married John and shot Sherlock and therefore became a sort of new archenemy. Nonetheless, not only every stamp is - in one way or another - linked to Jim Moriarty, the medal and the collage of images with which it is surrounded, displays also mainly text messages connected to Sherlock’s (in)famous nemesis Jim Moriarty. 

Here’s a summery of those texts + the corresponding screenshots in the episodes. It surprised me though, that I couldn’t match all of them. There are some interesting exceptions. First the obvious ones:

A Study in Pink

Two images have been used to create this manip for the medal collage. Both are visible thoughts out of Sherlock’s mind palace. And both screenshots don’t turn up side by side. Sherlock’s entire thinking process lies between them. Jeff Hope, the man who killed the lady in pink had been sponsored by Jim Moriarty.

RACHE  German (n.) revenge

The correct letter settles into place ... Rachel

He squats down beside the body .... wet

He reaches into her coat pockets and finds the umbrella ... dry

He moves up to the collar of her coat ... wet

He inspects the delicate gold bracelet on her left wrist ... clean

... then the gold earring attached to her left ear ... clean

... and then the gold chain around her neck ... clean

The wedding ring ... dirty

Conclusions appear in front of Sherlock’s eyes ... married ... unhappily married ... unhappily married 10+ years

While the outside of the wedding ring is still showing ... dirty

the inside registers as ... clean

Sherlock has reached a conclusion ... regularly removed

The final deduction about her ... serial adulterer

The Great Game

Three different scenes from this episode have been used for the collage. Two are connected to a serial killer called The Golem, who asphyxiates his victims. One is directly connected to Jim Moriarty, who has planned all the cases in TGG. 

1- The Golem killed Alex Woodbridge, security guard and hobby stargazer. That killer appears for the first time on Sherlock’s radar when he searches on his phone for ‘most wanted’ criminals:

JOHN: He’s dead about twenty-four hours – maybe a bit longer. Did he drown?

Sherlock has called up on his phone: Interpol Most Wanted Criminal Organisations Regional Activities LESTRADE: Apparently not. Not enough of the Thames in his lungs. Asphyxiated.

2- The Vauxhall Arches turn out to be the hiding place of the Golem and Sherlock gets the address from an informant of his homeless network. It’s a note written on a piece of paper:

SHERLOCK: Hold that cab. (John trots back to the taxi while Sherlock goes over to the girl.) HOMELESS GIRL: Spare change, sir? SHERLOCK: Don’t mind if I do. JOHN (to the cab driver): Can you wait here? (The girl hands Sherlock a piece of paper. Unfolding it, he sees that she has written “VAUXHALL ARCHES” on it. Smiling briefly, he turns and walks back to John.)

3- The third image out of this episode is one of the exceptions, because they’re not imagined or written words but an actual text line spoken by Jim Moriarty during his showdown with Sherlock at the pool.

JIM: I’ve given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist, you see ... like you! 

A Scandal in Belgravia

It is Jim Moriarty who adviced Irene Adler how ‘to play the Holmes boys’. It is Sherlock though, who wins that game and is able to get access to Irene’s camera phone. The confirmation of his success appears on her mobil phone screen:

IRENE: Everything I said: it’s not real. I was just playing the game. SHERLOCK: I know. And this is just losing. (Slowly he turns the phone towards her and shows her the screen. She looks down at it, tears spilling from her eyes as she reads the sequence which says: I AM SHER LOCKED

The Reichenbach Fall

Three different scenes from this episode have been used for the collage.

1- Jim Moriarty sends Sherlock his invitation to play the game, while sitting inside the smashed glass cage of the crown jewels, dressed as and equipped with the insignias of a king. The message appears on Sherlock’s phone. This starts the game.

JOHN: Sherlock ... SHERLOCK: Not now. JOHN: He’s back. (Sherlock lifts his head and takes the phone. The message reads: Come and play. Tower Hill. Jim Moriarty x.

2- Sherlock searches for the traces hidden inside the residues of the kidnapper’s footprints. What might be the fifth element? Those five big questionmarks+the number 5 appear as visible thoughts out of Sherlock’s mind palace and are embedded between Sherlock’s rememberence of Jim’s threat ‘I owe you’ and Molly asking about this afterwards. It turns out to be the clue to find the kidnapped children and it marks the beginning of Sherlock’s downfall. 

SHERLOCK: I ... owe ... you. SHERLOCK: Glycerol molecule. He sighs heavily as he struggles to identify the item, seeing it in his head as: 5. ????? SHERLOCK: What are you? MOLLY: What did you mean, “I owe you”?

3- Claudette Bruhl, one of the kidnapped children, seems to recognize Sherlock as her kidnapper. The seed of doubt is sawn at Scotland Yard. Then the letters  IOU appear on the windows of a building opposite. This message proves to Sherlock that it is indeed Jim Moriarty who is behind that kidnapping case.  

LESTRADE: The kid’s traumatised. Something about Sherlock reminds her of the kidnapper. JOHN: So what’s she said? DONOVAN: Hasn’t uttered another syllable. JOHN: And the boy? LESTRADE: No, he’s unconscious; still in intensive care. (In the building opposite Scotland Yard, all the lights in the offices come on. On the second floor, spray paint has been applied to three of the office windows. Sherlock stares at the enormous letters that have been painted: I O U

The Empty Hearse

From this episode two different words out of one of Sherlock’s mind palace deductions have been used for the collage. Sherlock is working on the fake Jack the Ripper case (How I did it), which had been planned by Anderson to lure Sherlock back to London because he firmly believed the detective not to be dead. Sherlock notices the trick though. He comes to the conclusion that the fake corpse is only six moths old and its Victorian outfit had been exposed to first: sun and then: fire damage. (Sun exposure, fire damage, undead .... it’s a bit hard to not get ideas about Dracula here ... X X X  :)

The words ‘pine & cedar’ are displayed again as visible thoughts out of Sherlock’s mind palace. And just like in ASIP those words lie several screenshots appart. For some reasons ‘spruce’ has been ignored: 

LESTRADE: This one’s got us all baffled. SHERLOCK: Mmm. I don’t doubt it. (..... Sherlock sniffs at the body and tries to decide what he is picking up: PINE? SPRUCE? CEDAR NEW MOTHBALLS Moving on, he sniffs again: Carbon particulate ... He sniffs more deeply: Fire Damage

The Final Problem

Images of three different scenes out of this episode have been used for the collage. 

1- The movie Mycroft is watching in his private cinema at his place is interrupted first by images of an old family video, then by Eurus’ message on screen ... “I’m back”. It  announces the return of Eurus, the secret sister.

I’M BACK VOICE: Mycroft ... Mycroft ... MYCROFT: Why don’t you come out and show yourself? I don’t have time for this. CHILD’s VOICE: We have time, brother dear. All the time in the world.

2- Sherlock stands in front of the ‘funny gravestones’ at Musgrave Hall and puts together the dates on the stones until he has a long string of numbers in front of him ... visible thoughts out of Sherlock’s mind palace. This brings Sherlock finally the solution to Eurus’ riddle.

.... 1520 1818 2426 1617 1822 32

3- Just like the numbers, the four verses of Eurus’ riddle appear as visible thoughts out of Sherlock’s mind palace. He connects the string of dates from the gravestones to the verses. It is the second verse that has been used for the collage.

I that am lost, oh who will find me? Deep down below the old beech tree Help succour me now the east winds blow Sixteen by six, brother, and under we go! Without your love, he’ll be gone before Save pity for strangers, show love the door. My soul seek the shade of my willow’s bloom Inside, brother mine - Let Death make a room. Be not afraid to walk in the shade Save one, save all, come try! My steps - five by seven Life is closer to Heaven Look down, with dark gaze, from on high. Before he was gone - right back over my (h)ill Who now will find him? Why, nobody will Doom shall I bring to him, I that am queen Lost forever, nine by nineteen.

The exceptions ...

So far, these have been the obvious links between the images used for the collage and the corresponding episodes of Sherlock BBC. Beneath follow the less obvious and the ones I failed to find a match for. 

Blue chemistry ...

There are two episodes in which chemical formulas are displayed in the form of drawings. 

1- In The Hounds of Baskerville (S2/2) Sherlock is looking for a monstrous hound from hell. Instead he finds the H.O.U.N.D. project in which experiments had been conducted with a deleriant drug, based on fear and stimulus. The informations on this project are key-coded by the name MAGGIE (short for Margaret Thatcher)

2- In The Six Thatchers (S4/1) Sherlock tries - with the help of Toby the bloodhound - to track down the person who smashes plaster busts of Margaret Thatcher in order to find a hidden flash drive with secret informations about A.G.R.A. a group of terrorists. One of the four members had been Mary Watson.

Although there exist several drawn chemical formulas in both episodes, very similar to the one used for the collage, and despite I scanned those scenes screenshot by screenshot, I wasn’t able to find a perfect match. Maybe I still missed something. Maybe that formula on the collage is indeed just an unrelated decoraton .... But it’s interesting to note that the story connects this kind of ‘chemistry’ always to Hounds and Thatcher. (more about chemistry)

Red drop of blood ...

That blood drop used for the collage appears actually in each official episode (TAB as well) because it’s part of the intro. And for the creation of the medal collage, that image has been used two times. In the background there is a smaller and paler version, which is overlapped by a bigger and darker version in the foreground. Of that one, only the lower half is visible. Using two times the same image in one picture, always reminds me strongly of the many Pairs, Twins and Double oh’s mentioned in Sherlock BBC. 

Mostly I connect that ‘sign of two’ with John Watson. In my theory he represents the ‘fixed point in a changing age’, the ‘eternal just-friend and still stubbornly ‘not gay’ Watson, the very aspect in Sherlock’s experiment, that needs to be transformed into a modern version of the same character. In other words: the old king has to make way for the new king. According to the original meaning of the Musgrave Ritual that says about the crown of a king: “'Whose was it? His who is gone. Who shall have it? He who will come.” 

With this in mind it was easy to compare the drop of watery liquid that falls onto a drop of blood in Sherlock’s experiment, to John in the well, drenched by the water Eurus exposes him to. Emotional context indeed. :))))

When a drop of emotions/chemistry brings the blood to a boil ... (1 2)    Drop of blood 

Search: London Bridge ...

That’s the most mysterious addition to the collage. While all the other words and images can be linked to the show .... this one is the absolute exception. A ‘search for London Bridge’ doesn’t happen throughout the whole story. Not once. London Bridge doesn’t even play a role in Sherlock BBC. At least not yet ...

Bridges of Sherlock BBC:

In ASIB Irene Adler texts Sherlock that she can see Tower Bridge from her room. In TST Sherlock stands on Vauxhall Bridge while he realizes the involvement of fake AMO, Vivian Norbury. 

In TLD Culverton Smith gives the cryptic advice ‘We must be careful not to burn our BRIDGES.’ ... at the same time Sherlock walks with Faith through London and crosses Millennium Bridge and Golden Jubilee Bridge beside Hungerford Bridge.

In TFP little Sherlock stands on a small wood-bridge while he is searching for his lost dog Redbeard.

‘Bridge’ as extension of names:

In TGG security guard Alex WoodBRIDGE is found dead at the bank of the Thames, between Waterloo Bridge and Southwark Bridge.

In TSOT guardsman Stephen BainBRIDGE consults Sherlock and starts the case of the Mayfly Man. He is the first of the three guards (Bainbridge, Sholto, Mary) in this episode. (Changing of the Guard)

London Bridge though does not appear in Sherlock BBC so far. This leaves the question ... why is the note to search for that bridge even on the collage? Where does it come from? And why is it so closely connected to the episode spanning double image of the blood drop from Sherlock’s experiment? The words are displayed inside the smaller, paler blood drop. One wonders .....

(Thanks @gosherlocked​ for deciphering ‘London’ in that bridge’s name. :)))

The blue ribbon ...

Something that looks like a ‘blue ribbon’ runs through the lower part of the collage. The very distinctive loop, right under the name Moriarty, gave me the idea that this ‘ribbon’ could be the river Thames. And really, my assuption turned out to be correct, it is the Thames. What’s even better, at this distinctive loop the river coils around the peninsula named ... Isle of Dogs. 

It surely isn’t an unusual thing to add a part from the map of London, including the Thames, to a collage of images related to Sherlock Holmes. After all, Sherlock is a most famous residient of London. It it is also quite fitting, especially for this adaptation, to display Jim’s name side by side with ‘dogs’. Dogs and hounds do play a major role since the beginning and are closely linked to Jim, John and Sherlock. The barking of a dog in the night can be heard right after John wakes from his nightmare in ASIP, missing shoes lead right away to the villain (very similar to the original Baskerville case) and TFP is all about a lost dog/boy. But there is a little bit more that came to mind, when I recognized the Isle of Dogs.

TheGameIsNow ...

During the run-up to TheGameIsNow-Escape Room Event, (summer 2018) a video was released .... a call-out from Mycroft Holmes to recruit volunteers for The Network. As a part of that call-out, Mycroft mentions a ‘rush of incidents across the capital’ and while he speaks, a map of London is displayed on screen on which a red line runs along and strings together the involved locations, which are marked with the ‘eye-sign’ of The Network. And that red line stops exactly at the Isle of Dogs. That’s why I recognized that peninsula immediately.

Again ... one wonders ...

All in all, one can not deny that a lot of considerations, of work and also of knowledge regarding the show, have been put into the creation of those stamps, the medal and the images used for their presentation. And as usual with Sherlock BBC, some little intriguing mysteries have also been woven into it.  :)))

I leave you to your own deductions. Thanks @callie-ariane​ for the scripts. 

January, 2021

[lumin3xe]

Hq Characters and how they play Genshin Impact!

Love letter 💌: omg hey! So I’ve been obsessed with genshin impact and aswell haikyu so my sexy small brain though ‘what if the hq character played genshin impact?’ And here we are!

Characters: Dachi Sawamura, Koshi Sugawara, Asahi Azumane, Chickara Ennoshita, Yu Nishinnoya and Ryūnosuke Tanaka

(Will this become a series? Maybe 👀)

slighty edited and fluff!

˚ ↠ Dachi Sawamura ↞ ˚

˚ He plays sometimes, mostly with the other third years, he does play with the team tho!

˚ He probably plays it in his free time and if he feels like it

˚ Does he have a strategy? He kinda just plays it, really good on maining on a certain character 🥴🥴 (dw I’ll share it later HAHHSH—)

˚ Is he good? Yeah I like to think so! since he doesn’t play often he doesn’t really practice or grind but If he tried he could be a really powerful player.

˚ He does try to do his daily commissions but he mostly forgets it 🧍(someone has to remind him hehe, he’ll be like “oh shoot yeah— give me a minute” but he won’t play it when he’s practicing volleyball or doing hw or smt)

˚ A lot of Mora and Primogems— he knows how to wish but he just doesn’t do it often LMAO—

˚ One time he got a five star character on his first wish and asked ‘are they good?’

˚ Never has spent money on the game no, he was tempted but he’s like nah.

˚ I feel like he would have Jean and main her well.

˚ his team would be, Jean, Kaeya, Xiangling, and probably Aether (male traveler)

˚ ↠ Koshi Sugawara ↞ ˚

˚ He plays in his free time and sometimes during volleyball practice, plays mostly with the other third years and ofc plays with the rest of the team 😌😌

˚ Hmm I feel like he would try to have a strategy? Maybe when against a boss battle or smt, he looks up how to play certain characters and where to get a certain items, y’know just regular player tbh

˚ He’s an average player—nothing much. sometimes screams when one of his characters dies HSHSHD

˚ Does his daily commissions if he has time too, doesn’t mind if he misses or forgets them (but will be like “oh whoops, I’ll do them later haha” or something of the lines of that lol)

˚ Has more mora than primogems, he knows how to wishes and does it once or twice but sometimes when he‘s bored he kinda wishes alot and wastes his primogems LMAO-

˚ Same as Dachi, never spent money on the game...is what he says HAHSGH

˚ Funny thing is that he got pity once and got Ganyu IAJHAJAJW

˚ Hmm I could see him main Sucrose! tbh he really wants Albedo omg HAHA-

˚ His team is Sucrose, Ganyu, Yanfi, and Xingqiu

˚ ↠Asahi Azumane ↞ ˚

˚ To me Asahi would really like the game and try’s to play as much as he can but he feels like he would get made fun of poor asahi omg🥺Again he mostly plays with the third years and with the team 🥰🥰

˚ Yeah he would have a strategy, and he would be a good player! ( he would have a good strategy too omg)

˚ He would probably be the most best player besides someone else 👀

˚ You guessed it- he actually does his daily commissions! He either does it when he wakes up for school or when classes are done hehe ☺️☺️

˚ Decent amount of Mora and Primogems! He saves them up for new characters but he’s really tempted to just use them in a day LMAO-

˚ I don’t think he would no🧍

˚ Since he’s such a sweetheart, I feel like he would main Noelle! Her background almost made him cry but SHHHH

˚ His team would be Noelle, Barbara, Diluc and Keqing

˚ Wtf he has so many characters??? Like huh?? And he knows how to use them?? Wtf 😭😭

˚ ↠Chikara Ennoshita ↞ ˚

˚Since I don’t know much about his character—I might be OOC so pls bear with me YVGFGDRD—

˚ He plays when he’s bored, maybe when he’s walking in the halls or during volleyball practice breaks. He mostly plays with the second years and aswell the whole team!

˚ No he doesn’t 🧍HAHAHSHS— hmm he looks up strategy’s, play certain characters and etc etc but he doesn’t really do anything

˚ For some reason yeah he actually does his commissions but like,, its creepy weird LMAO?? IDK HAHSH—

˚Same as Asahi, decent amount of mora and primogems lmao, doesn’t use it often tbh, wishes once or twice, somehow gets five stars often???

˚ Nah he probably wouldn’t, if he really wanted a character tho? Yeah he would.

˚ Hmm he probably mains Aether (male traveler) or a five star character rlly good, like maybe even insanely good?

˚ His team would be Aether, Chongyun, Tartaglia, and Diona

˚ Yes he got Tartaglia HAHSHHS—

˚ ↠ Yu Nishinoya ↞ ˚

˚ This dude plays all the time I BET AGAHAHA (Passing time during class, volleyball practice breaks, during the halls etc etc!! Like I swear HAHA—)

˚ He plays a lot with Tanaka! And like try’s to play with everyone else on a regular, he wants to get better at the game and likes to grind/practice a lot on the game!

˚ Is he good tho? Hmm that’s up to you really!

˚tbh his strategy is too smash the buttons— IM KIDDING IM KIDDING HAHHS— I feel like he knows what he’s doing? But like not really 🧍but he’s trying!!

˚ Tho it’s really cute when he wins a battle with a huge boss 🥺🥺(Tanaka hypes him UPP—)

˚ He does like two of his daily commissions and forgets about it— he thinks he’s done them but no LMAO—

˚ A lot of Mora but literally no Primogems— he has like 40 or 60 but his boy Tanaka helps him save them up!!

˚ As much as he wants to spend money on the game, he doesn’t, he wants to get his Primogems fair and square.

˚ He mains Lisa. HSHSHSH— tho in all seriousness he’s really good at maining electro characters!! Like for example he really likes Fichel! He thinks she’s cool 😎😎

˚ Part of him actually believes her story’s HAHA

˚ His team is Lisa, Razor, Fischl and Keqing

˚ Tanaka was nice enough to gift Keqing to noya 🥺🥺

˚ ↠ Ryūnosuke Tanaka ↞ ˚

˚ Like Noya he plays alot! But little less more than him lmao

˚ Knows a little bit of what he’s doing, but just the same with noya but with a little knowledge :)) he’s not bad tho

˚ Yo ngl when noya and Tanaka co-op, there kinda insanely good 😳😳

˚ Talking about co-op they like to call eachother and do boss battles together and it’s like so wholesome?? (Ignore the screaming tho HAHA-)

˚ Surprisingly he does his daily commissions! He try’s to remind noya while he’s at it but kinda forgets lmao

˚ Nah he probably wouldn’t due to noya (fair and square my dude)

˚ Hmm decent amount but not a lot of Mora and Primogems, but he gets characters!! He gets a lot of four stars but somehow he’s good at maining them!

˚ My guess he mains Rosiaro! He thinks she’s pretty— pretty cool! (Shhhh, you didn’t see that)

˚ He also thinks Fichel is cool too, and yes, he believes the story’s she tells.

˚His team would be Rosiaro, Lisa, female traveler (Lumie) and Beidou

HOLY SHIT—THAT TOOK A LOT OF BRAIN POWER TO CONTINUE THIS— YES I KNOW IM WEAK STFU SJSBJAHAH— ANYsways,, I hope you enjoyed this :))))

Also if you wanna play with me in genshin impact send me a dm or ask 🥴🥴 Btw if your wondering my team is, Lumie, Xingqiu, qiqi, and Yanfi!! I mostly main Lumie and Xingqiu hehe

Also my next part will include the rest of the Karasuno team so keep an eye out hehe! Also remember to take care of yourself ilysm!! 💖💖💖💖

reblogs are appreciated :))

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

Touching | 8. shielding the other one with their body, Dick & Rachel - for @wonderbatwayne

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: Safe Haven

Series: Physical Affection - Tumblr Prompts

Pairings/Relationships: Dick Grayson & Rachel Roth

Summary: "The answer is simple, Grayson. Five years ago in this very place you took what's mine away from me. Now I'm taking what's yours."

2x07 AU

Check out the prompt list | REQUESTS OPEN

____________________________________________

Safe Haven

You really wanna be back here?

Dick tried to ignore his father's voice as he marched between the rows of wooden benches.

"Where is he?"

Deathstoke led him to this church - to the place where everything went down five years ago. But now it was empty.

Bruce showed up in front of him, blocking his way.

He's feeding on your guilt. Like a spider. He's lured you away from where you need to be… who you need to protect.

"He killed my friend," Dick argued.  "Nearly killed Jason. He has to be stopped."

Very heroic of you. Except… you don't give a shit.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You don't know."

But I do, Bruce said as he walked up to him. I know everything. That's why you brought me. Just like I know why you keep sneaking off on these solo runs, just like you did five years ago. You have blood on your hands. 

"Not just me."

But you have more, son. Blood only you and Slade know about. You're afraid of the dark. Always have been. Even as a little boy. The great chasm of silence. The coldness of isolation. You're afraid if the others know your secret they'll leave you and you'll be alone, again. And they may. 

His heart sped up in his chest, his mind forgot how to breathe for a monent.

"They don't need to know," he said finally. "What difference does it make? It's done, it's in the past. It's behind me."

But it's not. It's got to come out.

"God damn it!" he shouted, feeling his nerves snapping. He was really getting tired of all this bullshit. "Can you leave me alone?"

You know how to get rid of me. You've known the whole time.

Tears started burning behind his eyes.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Of course you do, son. You always have. You just have to tell the truth.

But he couldn't. It was too much. It would destroy him, destroy everything he had with his team.

"It's too hard." he whispered, dropping his head in shame. It was getting harder to keep tears at bay.

His father reached out and gently brushed his fingers down Dick's cheek. Even if he was only a prodcut of Dick's own fucked up mind the touch felt very real and it brought some sort of comfort to him. 

His gaze then fell on the altar and he froze, noticing something he hadn't before. Bruce stepped out of his way when he moved and walked up the stairs to a heavy wooden table. Upon one look at the display it showed his blood ran cold.

At least a dozen pictures were scattered among lit candles and each one of them showed Rachel. Sitting on a couch with Gar, both laughing. Talking with Kory. Eating breakfast in the kitchen with Hank, Dawn and Donna around. He saw himself in those photos too - training with her in one, walking with her on the street in the other, with coffee cups in their hands and his arm wrapped around her shoulders. But in most of these pictures she was alone, usually somewhere around the Tower, in her bedroom or the kitchen and it was clear all the shots were taken without her or any of them knowing. 

At the very centre of the table was a small black box. 

With a shaking hand and a heart hammering in his chest Dick reached for it and slowly lifted the lid. On a white satin pillow meant to hold some kind of jewelry lay a lock of dark blue hair, coated in crimson blood.

Dick's knees almost gave out under him, sending him on the floor.

"No."

He left those for you, Bruce said behind him. He turned to his father for a moment, his face twisting in shock and confusion, but quickly came back to the display, hoping it disappeared when he wasn't looking. Because it couldn't be real, just like this Bruce wasn't real. It couldn't be happening. But the pictures were still there, as well as the box and the candle flames were still burning. 

Go home, Dick, his father's voice rang in his ears. It seems like one way or another, the monster's been in the Tower all along. 

He couldn't take it anymore. The mix of fear, fury, worry, confusion and dozens of other conflicted emotions he couldn't name was about to explode, ripping him apart from within. He smashed his hand on the table sending all the pictures and candles flying, tossed it all on the floor in blinding rage and whipped around, ready to run out of the church. He needed to get back to the Tower, to find Rachel. Maybe this was all some kind of a sick joke, maybe Slade is bluffing, playing mind games on him to keep him on edge. Maybe it's all one big-

"Well, look who finally made it."

Dick stopped to a halt, his breath hitching in his throat. The front door to the church was open, revealing no other than Deathstroke standing in the door frame with his blade pressed to Rachel's neck. She was almost limp in his hold, barely awake but conscious enough to be standing on her feet. Her head was swaying dangerously like she's in a haze, the side of her face covered in blood oozing from a split on her temple. 

"Dick…" she muttered, her voice weak and faint as a whisper in the wind carried out in the acoustics of the place and his heart jumped to his throat. He instinctively moved, wanting to rush to her but Slade stopped him, tightening his grip on her and pressing the blade harder to her skin. A drop of blood trickled down the shiny steel and Rachel instantly stilled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." the masked man said slowly, a clear warning in his deep voice.

Dick sucked in a sharp breath, his nostrils flaring. "What did you do to her?"

"Not much. Yet." he slowly tilted his head to the side. "I just gave her something to neutralize her powers. A small gift from this little group that eloquently calls themselves… The Organization?"

Dick felt his fists clenching so tight his knuckles must have turned white. He was trembling but unable to move. His eyes were locked on Rachel's pale face as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Questions were piling up under his skull, starting with how did this happen but there was no time for getting answers, first and foremost he needed to protect Rachel.

"I hope you enjoyed our little game." Slade continued, pushing Rachel onward so he could walk deeper into the church. She staggered on wobbly feet but he didn't let her fall. He wasn't gentle in holding her up either and hearing her grunt made Dick grit his teeth. "You must have had a nice ride around the city, following false leads and fake clues. Gave me enough time to get to this one while the others were busy jumping to each other's throats."

He risked one step forward, glaring at the face hidden behind the mask.

"What do you want from her?" he asked instead of giving Slade satisfaction by reacting to his words. "It's me you're after and I'm here. So let her go and let's get this over with. Rachel has nothing to do with this."

Slade let out a gurgling laugh and shook his head which only infuriated Dick more. His blade twitched in his hand and Rachel flinched, her face twisted in pain.

"Oh don't you see? She has everything to do with this." His masked face got uncomfortably close to Rachel's face and she turned her head away, cringing in fear and whimpering. Dick barely could hold himself back from lunging at Slade. "Poor kid. Snatched from the street, taken under the caring but broken wings of The Fallen Grayson just to be let down and end up dead. Funny how history loves to repeat itself but twists the ending at the last moment."

His arm gripped her tighter and Rachel's body tensed like a string that's about to snap. Her breath quickened and pupils widened up in terror. Their eyes met for the first time and Dick's heart broke seeing how scared she was, how she was silently begging him to save her.

"Rachel!"

"The answer is simple, Grayson." Slade hissed, fixing his grip on his sword and shifting the blade so the cold steel was now touching Rachel's cheek. "Five years ago in this very place you took what's mine away from me." He moved the blade slowly, making a shallow cut on her face and Rachel whimpered in pain. "Now I'm taking what's yours."

And he pulled the sword down.

"DON'T!" 

Slade stopped with the sword pressed to her carotid artery and looked at Dick who was aiming at him with the gun he was holding in his hand this whole time. His finger stilled on the trigger, grip so tight his knuckles bleached but his arm - no, his entire body - was shaking. His breath became shallow and rapid, heart trying desperately to break out of its cage.

"DON'T HURT HER!" he shouted and risked taking a few steps closer. He must have looked like a madman and he wouldn't be one bit surprised because that's exactly what he felt right now - madness. "Don't you fucking touch her or I SWEAR TO GOD-"

Deathstroke scoffed.

"We both know you're not gonna shoot." he said in a tone so light like they were discussing weather or something equally trivial. 

Dick brought his other hand up to steady his grip on the weapon but in his current state it did him no good.

"Watch me."

"Are you willing to risk your precious little girl's life, like you did with Jericho? Or have you learned from your mistakes by now?"

"Don't listen to him, Dick!" Rachel suddenly spoke. Her voice was strong and she was staring at him with terrified but focused eyes. Dick let himself quietly sigh in relief. Whatever drug Slade had given her must be wearing off.

"Shut up." the assassin growled in her face, threatening her with his weapon again. She eyed the sword and gulped down hard but remained silent.

Dick took another step closer.

"Rach, look at me." he asked gently, for a moment not caring about how Slade might react. Risky move but he needed to talk to her. She did as he told her and their eyes met. "Listen, you're gonna be okay. I promise."

"Oh, isn't it adorable." Slade scoffed again, shaking his head. Dick was almost sure the man was rolling his eyes under that hideous mask. "I see you've learned nothing. Even after all this time you lie in their faces that they're gonna be safe with you. It's pathetic."

Neither of them were listening to his little tirade. While Slade was talking they were having their own silent conversation. Rachel held Dick's gaze to make sure she had his attention, then pointed her eyes at the elbow of the arm Slade was holding her with. Then her eyes went back to Dick and she mouthed one short word.

Shoot.

He shook his head, feeling a bile of fear forming in his throat. It was a huge risk. An inch to his right and the bullet could pierce Rachel's chest. All it takes is for Slade to move or Dick's arm to tremble. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if the bullet went the wrong way.

But her eyes were full of faith and confidence when she was looking at him. A small smile appeared on her lips. She knew he was hesitating because of her and tried to encourage him as well as she could without Slade noticing. He could read what she was trying to tell him in her face.

I know you won't hurt me.

He would never. He'd rather die the most painful death than be the reason a single hair falls off her head.

He pulled the trigger.

Deathstroke's armor clinked when the bullet made contact with his elbow. It didn't do any damage, but that wasn't the point. Slade cried out, more surprised than hurt because he didn't think Dick would actually fire that gun, but the impact made him release Rachel from his hold. She was still swaying on unsteady feet but she instantly lunged herself to the side, hiding between the rows of benches and getting out of the way.

Good girl.

In the meantime a fight broke out between two men. Dick charged at Slade, fueled by hot rage burning inside of him. He didn't have his Robin suit anymore or any of his gadgets but his body was a weapon in itself due to years of training and experience. He was throwing kicks and punches, dodging and turning and moving. Slade threw away his sword and sent him falling on his back with one strong kick to his chest, but despite the hit pushing all air out his lungs Dick managed to quickly jump back to his feet. They danced around each other like it's a choreography learned a long time ago and the moves are now coming back to them with clarity after years of not using them. Every move of the assassin was full of precision and technicality, cold, strong and perfectly aimed while Dick filled his every action with images of those he was fighting for. He thought of Garth falling to the ground with bullet in his chest while connecting his foot with Slade's jaw, sending his head to the side. He thought of Jason hanging on one hand from one of the tallest buildings in the city with terror in his wide eyes as he punched Slade in the diaphragm so hard the skin on his knuckles split and started bleeding. He thought of Jericho bleeding out on the floor of this church when he jumped on the benches and swiftly moved to find himself behind Slade's back. And he thought of Rachel, pale as ghost and terrified, with blood trickling down her face when he round kicked Slade in the back, sending him to his knees.

"So emotional." the man grunted and straightened up. He reached for his baton and with one push of a button turned it into a spear. "So… attached."

Dick roared like an angry lion and attacked again.

This time Deathstroke got the upper hand, pushing Dick back towards the altar. Blocking the spear wasn't easy without any weapon in his hand and soon he was covered with smaller and bigger cuts. He fell on his back at the stairs, hitting the back of his head so hard his sight became foggy but he still managed to use his legs to cut Slade from his feet. However, the man didn't lose his balance, only jumped out of the way and pushed his heavy boot to Dick's chest, then pressed the blunt end of the spear to his Adam's apple.

"You were right," Deathstroke breathed out, turning the spear around. Dick heard his voice as if coming from underwater. His mask was a blur of color. "Let's get this over with." Then he raised his arm and stabbed.

But the blade never made it to Dick's chest.

First he saw a shadow looming over him and when his sight cleared he recognized the head of blue curly hair. He lifted himself on his elbows watching in horror while his heart screamed in agony.

No. Not again.

Please, not again.

Rachel pushed herself between him and Slade and shielded him with her own body, just like Jericho did five years ago.

She slowly looked down at the blade sticking out from her chest before Deathstroke harshly pulled it out. Her hands covered the wound, her fingers instantly turning red and then she swayed, about to fall down.

"Rachel, no!" Dick cried out and caught her, laying her down on his chest. A sob wrecked his body when he saw the waterfall of blood coating the front of her black sweater, making the warm wool stick to her body. He pressed his hand to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding while she looked up at him with those big blue eyes and he felt tears falling down his cheeks. "Oh God, Rachel. What did you do?"

"I had to- s-save you-" she choked out, a drop of blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth. She covered his hand with her own and squeezed it tight. "I cou-couldn't let you- d-die."

In the meantime Slade stepped back and hid his weapon. He was watching the scene in front of him unfold, still as a statue.

"Now you know how it feels," he said, aiming his words at Dick, who lifted his tear-stained face to glare at the man, "to have your own child bleeding out in your arms. Death would've been a mercy for you, Grayson. This… this is a lesson you will never forget."

"I will fucking kill you." Dick snarled at him, gritting his teeth. "I'm gonna hunt you down, you hear me?!"

Deathstoke chuckled and turned his back to him.

"Good luck with that." he threw over his shoulder then headed out of the church, leaving the other two alone.

Dick made some sort of a sound. A noise that he himself couldn't even describe. It sounded as if something had brutally ripped his chest open and tore out of it. He roared like an animal, venting his despair and anger.

"Dick..." a soft whisper pierced through to his consciousness, drawing his attention. "It's okay."

Another sob shook his body.

"Rachel… Rachel, my Rachel." he whispered, hugging her and frantically brushing the hair wet with blood and sweat away from her pale face.

So much blood. He was completely covered in it now, it soaked through his clothes and bit into his skin.

"It's not okay." he shook his head. "I'm supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around."

She managed to smile at him.

"We're supposed to… save each other… remember?"

"Not like this." he said, his voice breaking. "Never like this."

She squeezed his hand again. Their fingers, slick from her blood, entwined together tightly.

"You were my… save haven."

He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Then the meaning behind her words hit him like a speeding train and he held her tighter.

"No. Don't say that." he ordered desperately. "This is not a goodbye, you hear me? You're not going anywhere."

"Dick-"

"No! Help me." he croaked, pressing their clasped hands against her bleeding heart. "Use your powers. Take my energy, absorb it."

She coughed, spitting blood. They were running out of time.

"I can't- h-heal myself."

"Yes, you can. You have to."

But she didn't seem to hear him. Her eyelids closed slowly and her head fell on his arm.

"Rachel?" Dick's voice grew louder, breaking and rising like waves away at sea. "Rachel, my baby, please, honey, open your eyes, it's me, Dick, I'm here with you, I'll always be here, please, please…"

He leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, letting out a painful cry. He howled like a wolf, his shoulders trembling, heavy tears splashing on her round cheeks. It was his fault. All of it was his fault. A part if him knew it would end like this the monent he met her. But his love was too strong and he ignored the warning. Now she was paying the price. 

"Don't go, Rach." he begged, his voice shattered. "Don't leave me alone in a world without you in it."

He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand with such force that he felt her knuckles grinding in his grip.

Rachel, please come back. We can do this. You saved my life in more ways than you can imagine. Nothing is impossible for us. I love you, okay? I love you and please come back to me.

He reached deep into his memories. Rachel at the police station in Detroit looks up and stares at him as if she saw a ghost; Rachel, curled up in the bathtub of that crappy motel, surrounded by scraps of paper with crosses drawn on it, throws herself into his arms crying; Rachel leans over him in the asylum and reminds him of his promise to never to leave her; Rachel comes out of the fog with her head held high proudly after defeating Trigon; her smile and eyes wide open when she saw the inside of the Tower for the first time. And many, many other memories he will cherish for the rest of his life.

Heal, he begged because there was nothing else left to do. Take my life, take it all. Heal.

Something changed. Rachel's hand in his hold started getting warmer. He lifted his head slightly, blinking away tears and gasped at the sight of a bright purple glow seeping through his fingers. He watched in complete awe as the wound on her chest slowly started closing until there was nothing left beside a thin pink line that was already fading as well. The color came back to her face and she took a gulp of air, almost choking on it. Then she sat up, her eyes opened wide and she pressed her hands to her chest but to no use because there was nothing there, only drying blood on her clothes. She looked down at herself then back at him.

"How?"

He smiled at her and scooted closer. 

"I told you you can heal yourself."

Her brows furrowed in confusion but then understanding flooded her face and she smiled back.

"It wasn't just me… it was you, Dick. You willed me back to life and… and my powers listened." she grabbed his hands in hers. "I didn't heal myself, you healed me."

Still holding her other hand he reached out to cup her face. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes.

"All I knew was that I couldn't lose my safe haven." he whispered softly and that's all it took for her to fall into his arms.

She clung to his shirt, buried her face in the curve of his neck and started sobbing. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her on his lap and started rocking her gently. He loved how warm and familiar she felt in his hold, how solid and safe she was. He pressed a loving, desperate kiss on the crown of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"I love you so much." he mumbled into her skin. Rachel shivered and hugged him tighter.

"I love you, too."

Dick leaned away and took her face in his hands, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Let's get outta here, huh? We need to get you cleaned up."

She glanced at the blood on her clothes, then moved her gaze to his own bloody shirt and jacket.

"You don't look exactly better, you know?"

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, thanking God she was still here.

"Yeah, it was my favorite jacket. Now I have to burn it." they both laughed, happy to relax and lighten up, but looking at her face made him worried again. "You sure you're okay?"

Instead of answering Rachel stood up on her own and reached a hand out to him.

"Definitely."

He took it gratefully and got up to his feet, then immediately pulled her closer, crushing her to him.

"I am never letting you go again." he said, his voice hoarse and heavy from emotion. 

Rachel melted into him and took a deep breath.

"Please, don't."

Over her head he noticed Bruce standing by the church's door. His father smiled proudly at him and nodded, then slowly turned around and walked out, disappearing in the light of day.

[ellewritesathing]

Ten Things    VIII

Summary: If there’s one thing you have to know about Harvey Kinkle, it’s that he rarely thinks things through. So when he meets (and falls for) Sabrina Spellman on his first day of Baxter High and finds out that she can’t date anyone until her tempestuous sister does, it seems like the obvious solution is to get someone to date her so he can go out with Sabrina. A not so obvious choice for the challenge is Caliban, but, hey, it’s not like Harvey thought that far.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 8

Word-count: 3.8k+

A/N: ahh i can’t believe this series is completed!! it’s been super fun to write these characters and their relationships and i hope you guys like how i’ve done this (endings are not my strong suit lmao) 💕 thank you for reading!!

A few months ago, your and Sabrina’s relationship had been strained at best. She had been so young and all she wanted to do was experience everything, and you were older and a bit more jaded because you’d already experienced it all. And thanks to your wild days of experiences, Hilda and Zelda set a rule in place when you cooled down: Sabrina could only do something if you did too. 

A part of Sabrina had always resented you for it, even though the rule wasn’t your fault. It was just incredibly frustrating to always be asking you for favors and you consistently refusing because you were done ‘pretending to be someone you weren’t.’ She hadn't understood what that meant back then. 

And Sabrina had to admit, even though Hilda and Zelda would crucify for her saying it, that your relationship got better after Caliban and Harvey came into your lives. Those two idiots had a way of making Sabrina more forgiving and you less hard-headed and, slowly, your relationship improved. 

But then prom happened and everything exploded. 

No matter how many times you promised that you were fine, Sabrina couldn’t shake the memory of picking up from the mines with Caliban’s car smashed in and abandoned in the background. Nor could she forget how she cradled you in the backseat while you sobbed and asked her why he didn’t like you.

So, when you rejected Sabrina’s thirtieth offer to join her and Harvey for some retail therapy (or vandalism - Harvey could wait in the car), Sabrina did what any good sister would: She canceled her plans with Harvey and hunted down Caliban. 

She thought finding Caliban would be the tricky part, but talking to him turned out to be the hard part. The second Sabrina saw him at Dr. Cerberus’ looking for a book, her entire speech that she’d been preparing since breaking Nick’s nose just disappeared into thin air. It wasn’t fair that he was perfectly okay while you cried into a pint of ice cream, but she couldn't find the words to yell that at him. 

Despite being at a loss for words, Sabrina stormed over and tapped Caliban on the shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Looking for a copy of Pride and Prejudice.” Caliban straightened up and bumped Sabrina’s arm lightly to get to the bookshelf. “Do you mind?” 

“Do I mind?” Sabrina repeated, crossing her arms and stepping closer to him. Even though he was easily a foot taller than her, she was determined not to be intimidated. “Yes, I mind. I mind that you’re here book shopping while my sister's turned into Boo Radley!” 

“Oh, spare me the dramatics, Blondie,” Caliban said with a roll of his eyes. He turned his attention back to the bookshelf. “Firstly, you were just as involved in all this as I was. More so, actually - it was your gentle manipulation that pulled Harvey into all your bullshit. And secondly, your sister is far too strong to get her heart broken. By me or anybody else.”

Sabrina faltered. She had been working very hard to block her part of this whole mess out of her head. “Are you gonna tell her?” she asked, in a very careful voice. 

Caliban knelt to get a better view of the shelf. He was in the totally wrong section if he was looking for Pride and Prejudice, but Sabrina didn’t want to point him in the right direction just yet. “Now, why would I do that?” he asked, tilting his head up at her. “So that she can hate us both?” 

Tapping her fingers on her arm, Sabrina was forced to admit that Caliban was being a frustratingly good guy about this all. “Well…” Sabrina tried to figure out something to be mad at him for. “What’s your plan?” 

“My plan?” Caliban didn’t take his eyes off the copies of The Great Gatsby and Catcher In Rye in front of him. 

“Your plan to fix this,” Sabrina said. She put her hand on his head and turned it to in the direction of the British Lit two shelves down. “You’ve got a plan, right?”

Caliban was quiet. He stood up and looked down at her, seemingly figuring out how much Harvey would mind if he pushed Sabrina over. “No,” he said eventually, trying very hard to keep his voice level. “I don’t have a plan.” 

He turned to go to the British Lit and Sabrina grabbed his arm to force him to turn around. “How can you not have a plan?” she asked. 

“Because-” Caliban shook off her arm and kept walking “-nothing I say will fix this. Your sister hates me.” 

“My sister hates everyone!” Sabrina stormed after him, practically knocking him over when she closed the distance. Awkwardly, she added, “But she hates you a little less than everyone else.”

Over the dusty copy of Lord of the Flies, Caliban looked at Sabrina with an almost unreadable expression. Unnerving, yes, but surprisingly unguarded. Sabrina was sure he could set someone on fire with that look alone. 

Caliban dropped his gaze and pulled out the last Pride and Prejudice on the shelf. “Well, thanks, Blondie, but I think she hates me most of all right now.” 

“That’s just because she doesn’t know!” Sabrina grabbed Caliban’s arm before he could leave. Giving him her best set-you-on-fire look, she said, “If you just talk to her - explain what happened - then I’m sure she’ll forgive you.” 

“Because ‘forgiving’ is the first word that comes to mind when one thinks of your sister,” Caliban said quietly, staring at Sabrina’s hand on his arm. He looked back at her with a hard expression. “Whatever happens between me and your sister, I want you to know one thing.” 

“Anything,” Sabrina said, caught off-guard by his intensity. 

“If you ever hurt Harvey, I’ll break into your house and shave your cat,” Caliban said. 

Before Sabrina had the chance to even begin formulating a response to that, Caliban gave her a tight smile and walked away.

Sabrina could see now, after one very frustrating interaction with him, why you liked Caliban so much. He was impulsive, vaguely threatening, and very clearly in love with you. 

---

“Okay, let’s open up our books to page 73, Sonnet 141. And listen closely,” Wardwell said. She ushered in a scrawny freshman who rapped the first four lines of the sonnet and then excused him with three quick taps to his shoulder. “As Toby has just shown us, there are multiple ways of engaging with Shakespeare. It wasn’t always bad actors in stuffy period clothes, you know.” 

She said it knowingly, as if every dumbass teenager in the class had seen a Shakespeare play and thought wow, this stuff would be great if it weren’t for the poorly done accents and garish clothing. 

When no one responded to Wardwell’s attempt at humor, she took a breath and walked in a little circle around her desk to reboot. “I’d like for all to write your own versions of this sonnet,” she said. “A poem riddled with contradictions and the struggle between the physical desire and mental …” she paused when you put your hand up. You knew you should have known to wait until she finished her sentence, lest she forget her original point. “Um, yes, Ms. Spellman? Do you have a problem with the assignment?” 

“No problem. Do you want this in iambic pentameter?” you asked, pen ready to write down whatever convoluted answer Wardwell gave you. 

Wardwell narrowed her eyes and walked around to the front of her desk again to get a better look at you. “To be clear, you don’t have any problems whatsoever with the assignment?”

“Whatsoever,” you echoed. Your voice had a slight edge to it thanks to your thinning patience. You tapped your pen on your notebook.

“Are you sure?” Wardwell crossed her arms over her chest. 

You sighed and put down your pen. With your best attempt at one of Sabrina’s polite smiles, you said, “I’m sure that it’s a great assignment, Mrs. Wardwell. Now, iambic pentameter: yes or no?”

“You know, I’m not sure I like this new attitude of yours,” Wardwell said, pushing herself off her desk and turning to look for a notepad. She scribbled something on it as she walked to your desk. “Take this and go see the nurse. I think you may have a fever.” 

“A fever? Wardwell, what the hell is this?” you asked. 

“A note. To see the nurse.” Wardwell tore the note off her notepad and handed it to you before gesturing toward the door. “Go.”

“But I-” 

“Now, Ms. Spellman.”

You let out a listless breath and slammed your notebook shut. Shoving all your things into your bag and ignoring Nick’s snickering, you grabbed the note from Wardwell and stormed out of the class. 

When you turned to flip Nick off while Wardwell had her back to the class, you saw Caliban reaching over his desk to flick Nick’s neck and whisper something in his ear that made him a few shades paler. It filled your heart with a funny feeling and you adjusted your bag and fled before you had a chance to start crying in the middle of your English class. 

Once you were in the safety of the hallway, you had no idea which way to turn. The nurse’s office wasn’t an option because Pollit was deeply against any student seeing her unless they were bleeding and you didn’t feel like getting detention for supposedly faking an illness. It was too bright outside to throw rocks at the soccer team. You found yourself heading for the library before you even realized that you’d decided not to ditch. 

The smell of coffee and freshly microwaved lunches mingled with old books and teenage angst when you stepped through the threshold. It was surprisingly busy for the sixth period, but luckily your spot in the back corner by the window was open. Slipping on your headphones, you drowned out all the others and started working on your stupid sonnet. 

If the writer’s block wasn’t annoying enough, someone slid into the seat across from you and jostled the table in the process. Lifting your gaze from your newly marred page, you were intent on giving the offender the harshest glare in your arsenal until you saw it was Harvey. 

He was nervous, spouting some apology that you couldn’t hear over your music, and wearing a football helmet. You took your headphones off to hear some of the ten billion words he was saying.

“Why are you wearing a football helmet?” you asked, setting your headphones aside and doing your best not to glare at him. 

“Oh, uh-” Harvey tapped the helmet like he’d forgotten he was wearing it. “I wanted to talk but I thought you’d still be pretty pissed at me.” 

You tilted your head to the side. “And you thought a helmet would protect you?” 

“I mean, I feel a little dumb about it now but yeah,” Harvey said with a shrug. 

You laughed at him and leaned over to take the helmet off his head. He looked ready to run for the exit, but he held still as you took the helmet in your hands. Collapsing back into your seat, you sighed and looked at the red Greendale High football helmet. “I’m not angry with you,” you said. “I tried but it’s like being mad at a puppy.” 

Harvey shifted uncomfortably and frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment but thank you.”

“No problem, Harvey.” You sighed and set the helmet on the table. Both of you stared at the helmet for an awkwardly long period of time. “What did you want to talk about?” 

Either his seat was very uncomfortable or you still managed to unnerve him because Harvey kept shifting in his seat and starting sentences but never quite finishing them. Eventually, he sighed and said, “It’s not Caliban’s fault. It’s mine.” 

“No, you only think it’s yours because you’re sixteen and more easily manipulated than most,” you said. 

“Yeah, I know all that but-” Harvey shifted and tapped your notebook as he tried to figure out how to word what he was about to say. “I liked Sabrina, right? But everyone told me that she couldn’t date unless you did. So, I started talking to Caliban because he seemed like your type-” 

“Caliban is my type?” 

“Yeah, exactly,” Harvey said, completely missing your offense at his assumption of your type. Sure, he’d been right but still. “Anyway, so, like I said it, was my idea. He had feelings for you already and then Nick offered him money and … I don’t know. I told him to go for it anyway.”

You picked at the rings of your notebook in silence, mulling over Harvey’s words and trying not to punch him. 

“He was going to tell you but I said it would just hurt you,” Harvey continued. He took a deep breath. “So, if you’re going to be mad at anyone, then be mad at me.” 

You hoped you’d see something outside that told you what to do, but everything outside stared at you ambivalently. Letting go of your notebook, you turned back to Harvey and shrugged. 

“He lied to me, Harvey. I get that you were selfish and messed up, but Caliban lied,” you said. “That’s worse than what you did because it feels like I can’t trust anything he says.” 

Harvey looked like you’d just told him Santa Claus wasn’t real. Gut-punched and disappointed. In a slightly smaller and more strained voice, he said, “But it’s not his fault.”

You reached out and touched Harvey’s hand on the table. “I know you’re just trying to help your friend but it’s not that simple,” you said. “Do you understand?”

“No,” Harvey said lamely. He sank back in his chair and sighed. “But I’ll stop bugging you about it.”

“Thank you.” You squeezed his hand before letting go entirely. You pulled your notebook out from under Harvey’s helmet. “Are you gonna keep staring at me like that or do you have work to do?” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to be in chemistry right now,” Harvey said. 

Again, a bit of your bad mood dissipated and you laughed. “You should probably go to chemistry.”

“Yeah, probably,” Harvey said. He looked at the door and looked back at you. “But, uh, is it cool if I sit here for a while?” 

You wanted to say no and to tell him that he was still an idiot for his part in this whole mess, but he was looking at you with those dumb lost puppy eyes. “Okay,” you said. “But don’t distract me or I’ll kick you under the table.” 

Harvey laughed and settled into his seat. “Got it. Next time I’ll bring shin-guards.” 

---

All things considered, Caliban had been handling your blind hatred quite well. Though, technically, your hatred wasn’t blind anymore because you knew the truth about him. Your hatred was all-seeing, all-encompassing, and everlasting. Caliban expected no less, considering the remnants of his smashed-up car found on the edge of the mines, but it still felt like he was falling apart every time he saw you. 

Before, your almost exactly replicated schedules had been a convenient way to spy on you until Caliban finally worked up the courage to ask you out. Then, it had been the ideal opportunity to pass notes and make fun of Billy. Now, it was the perfect torture session where the two of you pretended not to notice one another.

It had gone on for almost a week before Caliban couldn’t stand it any longer. He had a plan, a very shaky plan, and Ambrose’s assurance that he could treat any of Caliban’s bones that you broke. 

Caliban had waited the whole day and all he had to do was get through English, and then he could talk to you. Regardless of whether or not you broke his nose, phase two of the plan would commence with red carnations and one of those cheesy acoustic songs you liked.

“Okay, children,” Wardwell said in her disturbingly chipper voice. Her heels clacked against the floor as she scurried to the front of the class. “You’ve had plenty of time to work on your poems and I’m very excited to hear your takes on this classic sonnet.” 

She was met by the silence of two dozen over-tired teens. Awkwardly, Wardwell fiddled with her hands and started walking around again. She paused at the window for a second and turned back to the class with wide eyes. 

“Any brave souls willing to read theirs aloud?” Wardwell asked it like it was a dangerous question, like she was asking them if they wanted to rob a bank later. 

Again, she was met with uncomfortable silence. Then your hand shot up and the air felt slightly more electric. 

“Oh, Ms. Spellman … um, would anyone else like to give it a try?” Wardwell asked, looking out at the crowd with hungry eyes. “No? Well, alright then. Come on up, Ms. Spellman.” 

Wardwell waved you over and placed you next to her desk in the front. She gave your shoulders an uncomfortable-looking squeeze and hurried back to her spot near the window. When she stood like that, she looked like a spindly bird watching over her chicks. Or maybe over her prey; it was hard to tell. 

Once you were standing in front of the blackboard the way Wardwell liked, you took a deep breath and looked down at your notebook. “Here goes nothing,” you mumbled. Glancing over at the Caliban, his heart stopped as you dropped your gaze and started reading in a tight voice. “I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare.”

At the mention of his staring, Caliban’s heart stuttered annoyingly. He was staring at you now, along with the rest of the class, but this was different. He’d told you once that he stared because it gave him a chance to figure out what to say, but this time he was staring so that he’d never forget this moment.

“I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind … I hate you so much that it makes me sick-” You let out a short laugh and looked out at the window as you shook your head. “It even makes me rhyme.”

The whole class laughed and you took another breath to prepare for the next stanza. There was no laughter in your voice when you spoke again. “I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.” Your voice cracked and you looked up at the ceiling. “I hate it when you make me laugh.” A stray tear ran down your face and you wiped it away roughly. “Even worse when you make me cry.” 

Caliban leaned forward in his chair. Whatever you said next, he didn’t want to miss a word. 

“I hate the way you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call,” you said, voice trembling between the tears that Caliban knew were eating you up inside. As if this moment couldn't twist him up any more, you looked up from your notebook and made eye contact with Caliban for your final lines. “But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close … not even a little bit … not even at all.” 

With a breath, you shut your notebook and started walking out of the classroom. In a show of remarkable self-control, you didn’t slap Nick on your way out as he asked what on earth that poem could possibly be about. 

Wardwell called after you, teetering on her heels as she scurried after you, but she stopped when she was almost run over by Caliban bolting out of his seat. She held onto him until he promised that he would make sure you were okay. 

Thanks to the Wardwell delay, you were long gone by the time Caliban made it to the hallway, but he had a pretty good idea of where you’d gone. He raced out of the school and tracked down your car. 

You were glaring at your car when Caliban found you, or more specifically glaring at the dozens of red carnations in your backseat. Reluctantly, you picked up the apology note on your windshield. 

Technically, it was more of an excerpt than a note. Caliban had ripped out one of the last pages of the Pride and Prejudice he bought the other day, the page where Darcy proposes to Elizabeth (which was your favorite because ‘he promised to leave her the fuck alone if she didn’t feel the same’), circled your quote, and scrawled out an apology.

Caliban didn’t even know you’d seen him standing there until you balled up the note and threw at him. “You know you can’t just keep buying me red carnations every time you mess up, right?” you asked. 

Seeing as amusement outweighed the annoyance in your voice, Caliban walked closer to you. “Yeah, but that’s why they have roses…” Closer- “tulips…” Caliban stopped in front of you and let out a shaky breath. “Hell, if I get that desperate, I'll even buy you some peonies.” 

You bit the inside of your lip and cast a look at your car. You shrugged. “How do you plan to afford all that, huh? Going to keep dating girls so the cash keeps coming?” 

It was a cheap shot but one that Caliban deserved. He dropped his gaze. “No, I, uh, messed up the last time. See, this girl was … something else. And I fell for her.”

You frowned for a second but then gave him a very hesitant smile. “Really?”

“Really,” Caliban repeated. “It’s not every day you find a girl who’ll steal your car and then leave it absolutely wrecked without leaving so much as a note for your insurance company.” 

You laughed and covered your face with your hand. 

“In her defense, she did leave my tires alone,” Caliban said with a mischievous smile. 

For the first time, Caliban’s heart didn’t wrench at the sound of your laugh. You knew the truth and you seemed to care about him anyway. “Shut up,” you told him. You grabbed a fistful of Caliban’s shirt and pulled him closer. 

Your first kiss was rushed and clumsy - you wanted to kiss him and Caliban needed to kiss you. After a shared laugh, your second kiss was less frantic and a little smoother - your hand cupped his jaw familiarly and his arms held you without having to think. Then there was your third kiss, your fourth … each one better than the last.

by the way, loves, here’s the quote in case any of you were wondering: Elizabeth was much too embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added, “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”

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[solllaris]

retrograde — 01

↳ here.

PAIRING: Frat!Tom / Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: It takes some convincing, but you ultimately agree to go to a frat party and are pushed out of your comfort zone in more than one way.

WARNINGS: language, underage drinking, anxiety/panic attacks, & insecure thoughts

WORDS: 5874 

NOTE: This series is my baby so please be nice. The reader’s fears and anxieties are basically a reflection of my own, so posting this makes me feel super vulnerable. There were many moments I seriously considered deleting everything I had made for this series because I was too afraid to put myself out there like this, but obviously I didn’t. I really want the reader’s story to help someone or make them feel like they’re not alone because anxiety can make you feel so isolated at times. So to the person reading this right now, to the person with anxiety or depression or whatever: You are not alone. You will never be alone. And I hope this story shows you that somehow. 

          series masterlist — masterlist — add yourself to my taglist!

Tortoise shell glasses the color of honey inched their way down the bridge of your nose again and you would’ve been greatly annoyed if your glazed-over eyes weren’t focused on the large plastic cup of coffee on the table. Fingers still tensed and poised over the laptops keyboard, your attention had shifted for the millionth time to the dark browns streaking through the blonde colored liquid at the bottom and your fried out brain was mesmerized by it. Anything was more intriguing than the open, half-way completed book review on your computer screen where the blinking cursor taunted you from the corner of your eye. At your wits end, you turned away completely with a groan that you stifled with a hopefully motivating gulp of your iced cold brew swirled with caramel.

Shoving the frames further up your nose where they belonged, you nursed the straw of your coffee between your tongue and teeth and glanced briefly about the room. The Learning Commons was fairly full for ten in the morning, but you weren’t too surprised; it was the go-to place to go — not only to get coursework done, but also to just unwind and mess around. That Friday morning hadn’t been any different from the rest and bleary-eyed college students milled about, drinking their caffeine from the God-sent Starbucks in the building and chatting to their friends through sleepy slurs. For a person who really enjoyed people-watching, the Learning Commons was the prime place for you to spend most of your time. You blended in and fell into the shadows just as you liked.

Blinking twice, you realized you had zoned out again. Your vision focused and you saw you had been staring blankly across the room at a boy drooling all over his open textbook. His slackened grip around his mechanical pencil kept allowing it to fall over in his hand, rousing him each time for only a few seconds and then he was out cold again. The sight made you laugh under your breath and you impulsively tipped your head back onto your roommate’s thigh from where she was sprawled out on the couch behind you. Just as you wanted, Scout’s fingers that had been raking through your hair stilled to let you know you had her attention.

“Look,” You said loud enough for her to hear over the raucous youths around you and discreetly pointed across the way at the sleepy boy. “That’s about to be me if I don’t get this paper done soon, I swear to everything Holy.”

A snort exploded through her nostrils and your head jostled with the movements of her leg kicking the guy whose lap they rested in. 

“Jude.” 

Another harsh nudge to his thigh and the frustrated boy mashed a button on his video game controller, a ‘paused’ message appearing on the flat screen TV. A harsh, pointed look urged her to continue so he could get back to his game. 

“That guy over there looks just like you.”

When you glanced back over, the drooling guy had completely given up on at least attempting to remain upright to look like he was getting work done. His cheek was smashed against the pages of his book, pushing his lips out in a pucker face, and his wrecked hair stuck up at odd angles on his forehead. An unbridled bubble of laughter threatened to come up your throat and you had managed to contain it — until a little string of drool puddled on the paper his cheek rested upon. Both you and Scout shook with the force of your giggles and you briefly found yourself thinking that it probably wasn’t that funny, but to a sleep-deprived university student it was comedic gold.

Jude must’ve shoved Scout’s legs off his lap if the loud ‘thud!’ of her feet hitting the floor beside you were any indication. They came dangerously close to knocking over your cup of caffeine — the only thing getting you through the early hours of the morning — and you were quick to snatch it up, cradling it to your chest like a protective mother. Your look of disgust towards your two friends was completely ignored, overlooked by Scout’s cry of protest and Jude’s annoyed, but slightly amused, glare at the girl.

“That’s what you made me pause my game for?” He huffed, tugging his fingers through his dark tufts of hair.

She shrugged, a shit-eating grin on her face as she plopped her warm toned legs back onto his lap. “Y/n said it first, not me.”

You were mid-sip, a mouthful of bitter coffee coating your tongue when you squealed a close-mouthed noise of protest, widened eyes flickering between your friends. 

“I did not!” You cried once you’d successfully swallowed without choking. “I said that would be me if I didn’t finish my paper soon.”

“Lies,” Scout muttered.

Twisting your body to face her, the back of your hand smacked against her bare outer thigh, a loud and satisfying ‘smack!’ emitting from the harsh flesh on flesh contact. Your puppy dog eyes turned to Jude, bottom lip jutting out just slightly and he laughed, the action making his irises twinkle and scrunch closed.

“I’d never say that about you, J,” You said cutely.

He bumped his knee against your right shoulder lightly, jostling you to the side, and rolled his eyes but the tiny upwards lift to the corners of his mouth told you he was far from annoyed.

“Alright, alright, I believe you.” He groaned, quickly flicking his gaze back to the TV and unpausing his game. “Fuck you and your puppy eyes.”

Grinning triumphantly, you sipped your coffee happily and flopped back against the front of the couch. The sleeping computer screen on the coffee table immediately put a pin in your bubble of contentment, an instant frown replacing the bright smile on your lips. You set aside your half empty cup with a heavy sigh and swiped a finger along the smooth track-pad, waking it from its automatic sleep to tuck back into the four page book review for your U.S. History class. The cursor blinked approximately five or six times before you began to type, but you had barely written three words when the glass doors of the Learning Commons burst open and a group of rowdy boys piled through the entrance.

Well, you thought. Maybe just one more day of procrastinating won’t hurt.

A muffled groan sounded from Scout. “Great. Your frat brothers decided to grace us with their presence, J.”

Your fingers went slack over the lit up keys and you slouched defeatedly; at the rate you were going, the outcome of your paper was beginning to look more and more dim, but the fraternity boys couldn’t care less that some people were actually attempting to get their assignments done by their due dates. They joked and jostled each other and you kind of hoped they could feel the blazing burn of your laser-beam glare you shot their way, but their oblivious grins stuck a pin in your wishes. You watched them for a moment longer as they split off, some falling into the snack bar or coffee line while others drifted towards a vacant table or couch; you took that as your cue to pack up your things and traipse across campus to the library. (Why did you pick somewhere so loud to write a whole ass paper anyway?)

Scout managed to tear her attention from her phone long enough to notice you zipping up your bag and beginning to stand. 

She quirked a perfectly shaped brow and asked, “Where are you going? It’s only 10:30; our Psych class isn’t until 12.”

“Thanks for the reminder. I wasn’t aware that the class I’ve been going to every Friday for a month now doesn’t start until 12,” You bit back with the most deadpan tone you could muster.

Jude snorted without taking his eyes off the TV, his fingers never ceasing their rapid movements between buttons on the game controller. Scout responded with a swift kick to said controller (which earned her a string of expletives as he fumbled to retrieve it off the floor) and waggled a chipped nail-polished finger at you.

“First of all, the ‘tude is not appreciated and second, both of your friends are sitting right here so my question is very valid.”

“Okay, rude.” You pouted sulkily as you gathered your hair to tie it up into a bun with the velvety pink scrunchie on your wrist. “And if you must know, I’m going to the library because it’s way too loud in here to write a paper.”

“Ugh.” Scout groaned and threw her legs off the side of the couch, rolling off onto the floor in the most ungraceful maneuver you’d ever witnessed in your life. “I guess I’ll go with you. I still haven’t finished that Biology worksheet due today.”

“Really?” You inquired absentmindedly as you fiddled with your messy bun in the reflection on your darkened phone screen. (She was taking forever and you needed something to do so you didn’t look like a complete moron.) “I finished it like the day she handed it out last week.”

You didn’t even have to look over at the caramel-skinned girl to know that she had rolled her eyes hard enough to get stuck inside her head. “Literally no one asked,” She retorted.

“Mmm, and to think I was actually going to give you all the answers..”

Just as you watched her expression morph into a sickly sweet one, a shrill whistle cut through every conversation in the room. The loud chattering of college students died down to muted whispers until the only distinguishable sounds were the whirring of the old air conditioning unit in the building and the clambering of shoes against wood; once you turned away from Scout you saw that the latter had come from a blonde boy in basketball shorts standing on a table in the center of the room. Kappa Sigma was emblazoned proudly across the chest of the scarlet colored hoodie he wore and you fought the urge to roll your eyes because of course he was in a fraternity.

The blonde frat boy’s voice faintly resonated in your ears, but you turned away from his dramatic display anyway to latch onto the sleeve of Scout’s over-sized Harvard University t-shirt. You insistently tugged on the crimson colored material because you really just wanted to get a head-start on your paper. Instead of relenting and following you, she simply shrugged you off and it was then that you got distracted with one look at a stupidly attractive guy in a stupidly, tight t-shirt.

If you had ever seen someone who was truly poured into a shirt it was this guy. The gray material was stretched taut across his pectorals and abdomen, dipping and curling into each chiseled line on his body. The stitching around the short sleeves looked two seconds away from ripping open as his biceps bulged from the way he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. You didn’t think the view could get any better until your eyes slid further up to a jawline that could probably cut straight through glass and to top it off, a head full of effortless curls—your ultimate weakness. You were pretty sure you were gaping open-mouthed at him at that point, but it wasn’t everyday that you saw a real life fucking angel on campus.

So yes, you gaped at him. Proudly.

Until you were caught...which you were seconds later.

Your heart dipped dangerously low in your chest and for a moment it felt like the warm blood in your veins had turned to ice. That feeling of sudden panic from such a cute guy looking at you prompted you to swiftly turn away; the cold you had felt literal seconds prior shifted to an uncomfortable warmth as the shock of being caught staring shifted to embarrassment. Your brain raced almost as quickly as your heart and you tried to pretend to focus on the blonde guy standing on a table to calm down, but then you made the dumb decision to sneak another peek.

Big, big mistake on your part.

Insanely hot frat guy was still looking at you. Not only was he still staring, but the beginnings of a smirk were forming on his pink lips and maybe he was not-so-subtly flexing his biceps. Seeing the corded muscles ripple and bulge under his tan skin truly was entrancing and if Scout hadn’t grabbed you by the material of your sweatshirt you would’ve stood and stared for a little bit longer.

Fingers snapped in front of your face and you blinked once, twice, three times before she really came into focus. She shot you a funny look and asked, “Seriously, what were you staring at?” She followed your gaze when your eyes instinctively shot back towards the insanely hot frat guy—who had thankfully looked away. “What is wrong with y—ohhh.”

A shit-eating grin stretched across her face and you immediately groaned. “Don’t start, okay?” You grumbled and finally managed to pull her towards the glass double doors. “He’s stupid hot and I was respectfully looking.”

Scout snorted from behind you as you held the door for her, both of you stepping outside and beginning the trek across campus to the library.

“You were point two seconds away from drooling,” She teased, bumping your arm with her elbow.

You felt the heat tickling at your cheeks and ears again, so you quickly changed the subject.

“Anyway,” You said pointedly, shooting her a look that could kill. “What was that whole ‘getting on the table’ display about?”

“Right. I forgot you were a little... preoccupied.” She smirked and dodged your incoming fist, giggling like a maniac. “Okay, okay! There’s a party at the Kappa Sigma house tonight.”

Scrunching your nose up at the mention of a party, you tossed your empty cup of iced coffee in a trash bin as you passed.

“Well, I have a hot date with Doctor McDreamy and I can’t miss it. You know how much I love me some Derek Shepherd.”

Just as you reached for the door handle to the library, she smacked your hand away with a serious expression.

“C’mon!” She whined, her bottom lip jutting out like a child. “You’ve never been to a party with me. It’ll be fun!”

“My definition of ‘fun’ is very different from yours, Scout.”

A sly smile turned her full lips upwards again. “Tom will be there…”

Your brows furrowed as you wracked your brain to put a name to a face. Tom. Did you know a Tom?

“Um. Am I supposed to know who that is?” You asked cluelessly.

Scout groaned. “Tom Holland. The guy you were ogling in the LC,” She explained with a ‘duh’ tone in her voice.

Absentmindedly you fiddled with the strap of your shoulder bag. You were already growing tired of the conversation and wished she’d just drop it; if anyone knew your anxiety situation, it was her and you thought she’d learned by now that you would never set foot in a party. Attending a frat party of all things was sure to bring on a panic attack and you’d rather not hyperventilate in front of a bunch of testosterone-filled college guys. No way in hell.

Exhaling an exasperated sigh, you shifted on your feet tiredly and let your head fall back towards the sky.

“Is that supposed to convince me?” You shifted around your friend and managed to snag the door open before she could stop you. “Because it’s not working.”

Save for a girl lightly snoring on one of the couches and a guy wearing glasses slaving over his keyboard, the library was practically barren. You immediately felt comforted as you traipsed along the outskirts of the large room, like a warm hug after coming home from a long day; except it was barely after eleven in the morning and you were ashamed to admit that you already needed comforting. Whilst another large exhale huffed past your lips at the thought, you dropped your bag down on the worn cushions of a couch pushed under a window and plopped yourself next to it rather ungracefully.

A rather loud thump resounded through the room as Scout carelessly deposited her own things on the floor by a comfortable looking arm chair; she simply shrugged at your warning glance, mumbling “those two are dead to the world anyway” under her breath and turned to pull a black binder from her backpack.

Soon, the silence between you two was filled with the clicking of your fingers across the keys on your laptop and the scratching of her mechanical pencil on paper. It was nice—relaxing even—and you sunk further into the soft couch that hugged your body, your mind only filled with the words you needed to get down to finish your stupid book review.

What kind of history class has to write a book review anyway? This wasn’t English.

You should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

A small wad of balled up notebook paper hit your left cheek, bouncing off and into the crack between the cushions. Before you could retort, she was already whispering vehemently.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the party.” She stabbed her pencil in your direction as she spoke. “You’re going. Plus, I’ll be with you the whole night. Promise.”

Arguing with Scout was like arguing with a brick wall—pointless and you’d never win and you honestly just wanted her to shut up at this point; so even though the idea of standing in the Kappa Sigma frat house while the plaster walls vibrated and bodies jostled around you almost made you want to throw up, you reluctantly agreed to go with her. You tried to convince yourself it wouldn’t be so bad, that your best friend would be at your side the entire night, but you still couldn’t shake the butterflies in your belly the entire day.

Just as you’d expected, you were pretty sure you were this close to blowing chunks in Kappa Sigma’s bushes.

The lawn was crawling with college students bearing drinks and you were thrown into the middle of them, one hand clasped in Scout’s as she led you up to the porch and the other anxiously fiddling with the hem of your gingham printed shorts. You were hyper aware of everything happening around you: knocking shoulders with a short, blonde girl, the loud shouts over a game of flip cup, the bass of the song playing in your chest, and a putrid, skunk-like smell that caught in your lungs no matter what you did. Already you wanted to leave, but one look at your best friend’s excited face had you willing yourself to suck it up and try to have fun.

Clutching onto Scout’s hand like it was your only lifeline, she guided you through the foyer and an expansive dining room before reaching the kitchen and the pressure in your chest lifted enough to calm your racing heart; it was significantly less crowded, only inhabited by a small group of girls and a guy with his head stuck in the refrigerator. You watched as Scout paid none of them any mind and instead helped herself to two red solo cups, pointing the nozzle to the keg in one and letting it fill with the sepia toned beer before doing the same with the other cup.

You had just opened your mouth to protest, but the look she shot you had the words dying in your throat.

“Just trust me, alright?” She said and you let her shove the full cup into your hand. “It’ll help with your nerves.”

For a brief second your gaze flickered to the group of three girls seated at the kitchen island, all huddled together and speaking in low tones. It made your skin prickle and heat up and you wondered if they were talking about you—how out of place you seemed.

The white brim of your cup slotted between your glossed-up lips and you took a hefty swig. You immediately scrunched your face up in disgust at the bitter, watery taste of the ale but you were willing to down it if it drowned out your impending anxiety for the night.

“Ugh.” You cringed and peered at the frothy beer in distaste. “How do you drink this shit?”

Scout just grinned and raised her beer in the air.

“Cheers bitch,” She hummed and downed a gulp big enough to puff out her cheeks with the liquid. “Now drink up.”

So, you did cautiously while she retrieved her phone from her back pocket; you distantly heard her say the words “text” and “Jude” but you were more focused on the guy leaning against the counter a few steps away. It was the same guy who’d been rummaging in the fridge when you came in and it appeared he’d found what he wanted: a bottle of Michelob Ultra that he held by the neck. His other hand was occupied by his phone, his head tilted downwards as he scrolled with his thumb, but then he tipped it back to sip his drink and your heart plummeted.

You wasted no time grabbing Scout by her bicep to get her attention.

“Don’t look now but super hot frat guy, Tom, is literally right there,” You whispered frantically through gritted teeth and tugged her towards the exit.

Of course, she resisted. The “don’t look now” part of your sentence slipped in one ear and out the other because she turned back to glance at him with the subtlety of a hand grenade. Her small squeal had you yanking her back around, your stomach rolling with enough nerves to make you vomit for real this time.

“I literally just said—”

Just after the words left your mouth, Jude sauntered into the kitchen, loudly exclaiming: “Tom, man, how long does it take to get a drink?” Then, his six-foot-three hulking physique lumbered towards you and Scout—which effectively made Tom’s dark brown irises lock onto you. “And why have you guys not answered my texts? We’re about to start another round of flip cup.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes and you wished you were dead. You knew you should’ve stayed in the safety of your dorm with Meredith Grey and Derek Shepherd. Why didn’t you?

Maybe it was because you were the biggest pushover on campus?

Yeah, that had to be it.

“Sorry, mate.” Tom didn’t glance away from you as he spoke. You noticed a smirk playing at his thin lips before it was covered by the open top of his beer bottle when he took a drag. “I guess I got a little... distracted.”

His little jab at you didn’t go unnoticed.

Yep, he definitely recognized you from earlier in the day when you practically undressed him.

Deep down you knew he was just messing with you, but you couldn’t help feeling humiliated—like you were the center of a joke and not the kind of joke where he was laughing with you; suddenly overcome with a need to escape, you ignored his remark and turned to Scout and Jude instead.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna go to the bathroom or step outside really quick.”

You barely heard her concerned voice asking if you wanted her to come with you before you were high-tailing it out of the room and up the dark wooden stairs in the foyer. You took them two at a time and in your haste to ascend them, the smelly beer in your still-full-to-the-brim cup sloshed over the rim and saturated the front of your black shirt and flowy shorts. Your face contorted in discomfort at the feeling of your wet clothes sticking to your skin as you slowed down, reaching the top floor at a more careful pace. The paranoid feeling that everyone was watching you make a fool of yourself began to set in and just as your breathing started to escalate, you ducked into the first bedroom you saw and quickly shut it with a click.

Absentmindedly, you sat your now half empty beer cup on the dresser by the door and slumped back against the wood. The cold doorknob pressed into the bottom of your spine but you didn’t care because all you could think about was the soaked fabric clinging to your front, Tom’s subtle mocking comment, and the feeling you’d felt coming up the steps.

In the back of your mind you knew how dramatic and blown out of proportion you were acting; your anxiety, however, didn’t get the memo. So there you were, panting and quivering in some random frat guy’s room with tears pooling at your lash line. You were beginning to feel nauseous lurches in your stomach and all you wanted was to go home.

You’d never wanted to be here in the first place.

An uncomfortable warmth bloomed in your chest around your heart—a feeling you were all too familiar with. If you had to guess, you assumed it was the way a heart attack might feel. You were panicking for absolutely no reason at all and all that you knew was that you needed to get out of here.

With shaky hands, you pulled your phone out of your bra and wiped away the sticky residue from the beer before composing a new text to Scout.

Sent at 11:33 PM: i feel sick. i think i’m gonna head back to our dorm

Then, feeling inexplicably guilty for not even trying, you typed again as your tears left splotches on your screen.

Sent at 11:33 PM: i’m really sorry

The click of your phone locking sounded like a blaring horn to your over-sensitized body and you slumped tiredly into a desk chair, shoving your phone somewhere on the desk carelessly. You were still shaking and you didn’t know if you were cold or hot and bile had started to burn your throat and in your hazy mind you swore you heard the doorknob turning but who knows?

“Uh, what the fuck are you doing in my room?”

If you thought you were going to throw up before then you definitely were now.

You grabbed the trash bin beside the desk and hung your head over it, the contents of the day emptying from your anxious stomach.

“Christ,” The guy grumbled in annoyance. Didn’t you know that voice from somewhere? “Of course. A drunk girl chooses my room to throw up in out of all the fuckin’ other rooms in this house.”

Shame crept up your neck and made you feel even hotter than you already were. You felt like such a mess—you reeked of alcohol, your hair was damp from a cold-sweat, and a stranger had just witnessed you puking your guts out. Great.

You couldn’t speak. All you could do was take shaky, staggered breaths and sniffle through your tears but you did manage to see who the mean guy in the room with you was. Just as your luck would have it, the guy whose bedroom you’d taken hostage in was none other than Tom Holland.

Your stomach twisted and again you ducked your head back in the bin to puke some more.

“Look. I’m sorry you feel like shit and drank too much but you’ve gotta get outta here.” You felt his large, strong hand curl around your bare bicep to tug you up out of his chair. “C’mon. Time to go.”

It was at that moment Tom finally noticed three things: that you were the girl from earlier in the LC, then again in the frat’s kitchen, that you were shaking like a leaf against him, and that you were struggling to breathe normally. It was clear to him you weren’t throwing up because you were drunk; you were throwing up because you were having a full-blown panic attack.

In his bedroom.

And he’d been nothing but a dick to you so far.

“Woah, hey, hey,” He murmured softly, his voice taking on a much gentler tone. Delicately, he brushed the sweaty hair from your warm cheeks and allowed one of his palms to meet the small of your back. “It’s okay. You’re alright, darlin’.”

You focused all your attention on the quiet hum of his voice in your right ear and the silver cross necklace rising and falling on his chest with each breath. You tried to sync your breaths with his even, steady ones and although it took awhile, you managed to calm yourself down to a non-hysterical state.

Tom’s fingers, however, never faltered in their dance along your spine. “Good girl,” He hummed soothingly.

Tingles tickled at each of your vertebrae.

Good girl. Was he trying to kill you?

Clearing your throat, you set the trash bin beside the desk where it lived and stood up to move closer to the door and away from Tom. You were pretty sure you’d embarrassed yourself in front of a hot guy enough for one day and didn’t want to do anything rash...like jump his bones for calling you a good girl.

You felt yourself getting hot again.

“I’m sorry.” You fiddled with the damp hem of your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. “I just...needed some air and then I spilt beer all over myself and—yeah.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” He shrugged like a girl having a panic attack in his room was normal, then gestured to your ruined outfit. “I’ve got some stuff you can borrow if you want.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay, really—”

“C’mon. That can’t be comfortable,” He said with a raised brow. He was already rummaging through his dresser drawers before you could protest anymore. “Let me help you out, alright? I’ve already been the biggest dick to you tonight.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you took the clean clothes from his outstretched hand and sent him an awkward smile.

“Thanks. I’ll, um, get these back to you. Sometime.”

He grinned at how awkward and fumbly you were. It was cute. He liked that he was the cause of it.

“Sounds like a pretty good plan to me,” He agreed cheekily, unable to hide the smile on his lips. “Gives me an excuse to see you again, huh, darlin’?”

Oh.

This boy was definitely trying to make you explode and you were two seconds away from doing so, sweat pooling even quicker in areas you didn’t even want to fathom.

Thankfully, before you had the chance to embarrass yourself any further, Tom turned his back on you, chuckling lowly under his breath and urged you to get changed.

As you toed out of your high-tops and peeled your sticky, black shirt from your torso, your attention wavered just as you reached for his heather grey t-shirt. You distractedly grasped the soft material to put it on, but you were too entranced by Tom’s back muscles through his own shirt to follow through.

The fabric was stretched taut over the expanse of his broad shoulders and every little movement allowed you to see the rippling muscle that was underneath it. Your fingers itched to slip under his shirt and feel his toned back for yourself, to lightly dig your n—

“Jude said your friend is waitin’ for you on the porch.” His English twang had you throwing the clean clothes on hastily before he turned back around. “I’ll walk you down.”

All you wanted was to get out of this frat house and into your shower as quickly as possible so you agreed even though you felt like your insides were on fire.

You gathered your dirty clothes and hooked your fingertips into the canvas backs of your shoes before you were ushered out into the corridor. The party seemed to have thinned out a considerable amount with only the occasional person loitering about on the second floor; the thought of someone seeing you with Tom’s baggy clothes on made your cheeks flush and you tilted your head down towards the floor, avoiding anyone’s curious eye. To your anxious mind, it felt like everyone was watching you and Tom descend the grand stairs in the fraternity’s house so you held your gaze with the dark hardwood floor the entire trek to the porch.

His warm palm met the small of your back for the second time that night and you cautiously glanced up into his dark brown irises. You were surprised to see the incredibly soft edge they had taken on and even more surprised by the way your spine instinctively arched against his hand.

A guy had never touched you like this before—it felt intimate and tender and you were a stranger to it.

“Hey.” He had to stoop down towards your ear so you could hear him over the still-blaring music. His breath tickled your neck and his bottom lip brushed the tip of your ear. You couldn’t stop from shivering. “Are you alright?”

No, you weren’t. He was really, really close and your heart was beating dangerously fast again.

“Yeah,” You breathed in reassurance, pushing what you hoped was a convincing smile. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

He didn’t look completely convinced. However, he didn’t push the subject further and you were grateful.

“Alright.” He nodded and it was silent for a split second until you both reached the front door. “You look beautiful in my clothes by the way.”

And then Tom was pushing open the door and there on the porch like he said was a worried Scout. Thankfully, she was way too preoccupied with hurtling questions of “are you okay?” and “what happened?” for her to notice the way your skin was flushed and how you couldn’t quite look anyone in the eye.

The weight of the fingers splayed along the base of your spine disappeared as Scout swept you away from Tom and into her crushing embrace.

“Oh my God!” She shrieked as she hugged you to her, your bundle of clothes and shoes between you digging into your stomach. “You scared the hell out of me. Did you fall in the toilet or something?”

For the first time in what felt like forever, a small snort of a laugh left your throat.

“I’m fine,” You reassured and tangled your digits with hers, tugging her down the porch stairs with you. “And no, I didn’t ‘fall in the toilet.’ I just want to go home and drown myself in the shower.”

“Good. You smell like shit.” Her nose wrinkled. “And please enlighten me on how you ended up in Tom fucking Holland’s bedroom.”

You laughed again and spared a glance over your shoulder.

Tom still stood on the porch, readjusting his backwards hat over his brunette curls. You caught the little smirk on his lips and you swore he winked before Scout was tugging you further up the sidewalk and you were forced to turn back around.

Every inch of your body tingled.

It wasn’t until you stood under the shower head’s chilly spray of water back in your residence hall that you realized you’d left your phone in Tom’s room.

TOM TAGLIST:

@xoxohollands​ ♡ @outshineallthestars​ ♡ @pcterparxer​ ♡ @worldoftom​ ♡ 

RETROGRADE ONLY TAGLIST:

@softholand​ ♡ @sushiinmidnight​ ♡ @stuckonspidey​ ♡ 

[musicallisto]

1] Hiii! Congratulations on your milestone! To many many more followers! 🍨 May I get a male ship for HP (Golden Trio and Marauders era)? I'm a hetero girl, 28, proud Slytherin, INTJ-T, Type 1 Enneagram, Sun and Moon sign Virgo. I'll be receiving my PhD this Friday and I'd really love to work as an uni lecturer. Otherwise I'm absolutely clueless in romance and oblivious to flirting, I'm just really inexperienced in those things. I'm always kind and friendly but I prefer other people to start...

the conversation but I'm trying to be more outgoing. I hate my looks, I really do. I have a temper sometimes when I tend to say some bad things but it usually passes quickly over. Loyal. Sarcastic and chatty but mostly when I know you and am comfortable. Nerd. Metalhead. Bookworm who also likes movies, TV series, crosswords, colouring books, plush toys, stationery and long walks. Hate snakes, crowds, people telling me what to do and prying into my privacy, rom coms. I'm actually quite the cynic when it comes to true love, I don't believe much in it and have major trust issues. And this went too long, I'm sorry for spamming you with so much info. Have an awesome day! ^^

one vanilla milkshake, coming right away! I believe there are two people who have been eyeing you all night, though - word of bartender. could it be draco malfoy and james potter?

If you don’t believe in love and are a bit cynical about happily ever afters, then Draco is certainly not the one who’ll battle to change your mind.

It’s funny, actually, witnessing two souls who are so stubbornly set in their ways and convictions about how love is the biggest waste of time and only a source of heartbreak and pain, slowly grow closer to each other, fonder of each other.

You’re good friends with Draco, what with being two proud Slytherins who hide a biting intelligence and vulnerability under sarcastic airs, and you intended for things to remain that way as long as you stayed at Hogwarts. All you had to do was focus on your studies, go on a little escapade to Hogsmeade with your Slytherin friends, be surprised when Draco seems genuinely interested in the last movie you’ve seen but answer nonetheless, and watch in awe as Draco tries his hardest to comprehend how Muggle movies work...

Oh, no. This wasn’t part of the plan. This wasn’t part of the plan at all.

You know exactly what is happening; you are catching feelings, and you hate them all, down to the last one. You have no time to catch feelings, and especially not for Draco, the last person in the entire wizarding world who could ever reciprocate them.

Little do you know that Draco is also agonizing over the unwanted (and, so he believes, unrequited) love he’s starting to develop for you.

Then start a good two years of Idiots To Lovers(tm), with your relationship only continuing to deepen as friends because you can’t keep away from each other, but plenty of awkward moments because of your untold, mutual feelings, that neither of you want to act on from fear of being ridiculed.

Ah, those Slytherins and their pride.

Eventually, the secret comes out.

It’s a joint, parallel effort from both sides, really; you meet each other halfway. Right before the Death Eaters storm the school and the Battle of Hogwarts is officially underway, he pulls you aside and, in an angst-filled, otherwise pretty assured voice, he straight up tells you he likes you...

... exactly at the same time as you tell him you like him.

You gawk at each other, blink several times, in total confusion. It was the last thing either of you expected; and now that you very well may both die, turns out that you wasted two years of your life away, dancing around your feelings?

Yeah, Idiots to Lovers is right.

Draco is not big on physical contact, nor in big displays of affection - and neither are you, to be quite frank, especially because the context does not call for it.

But once the battle is over and you are both alive and well... you can expect a grand, bear hug from him.

James, contrary to Draco, is keen on showing you all the wonders of a life filled with love and soulmates and swoon-worthy declarations.

Which you loathe, obviously. But if the boy has a quality (and, truth be told, a fatal flaw as well), it’s that he doesn’t back down.

You are the most beautiful girl in his year, and, from what he’s heard, you’re also the most intelligent; you could probably be a professor at Hogwarts by now. He could almost forgive you for being a Slytherin.

And the thing with James is that, once he’s enamored with someone, he doesn’t let them go, in a sense that can be quite overbearing at first, but is genuinely his reaction at developing a crush. It’s not out of malice, or mischief, or to be a pain the ass, it’s just that he’s genuinely entangled in so many feelings that he doesn’t know how to sort out, and he’s paralyzed at the thought that you may find him lame or plainly ignore him. That’s why he’s so... exuberant, but you have to do a little bit of psychoanalysis before you understand all that about him.

In the meantime, you would be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate his compliments. Especially about your looks; he doesn’t know that you’re insecure, and could never comprehend it, because in his eyes you are astoundingly beautiful, and every little flaw that you may have only makes you more special in his eyes.

He’s taken the habit of calling you “beautiful”, “gorgeous”, or any other pet name of the sort whenever he sees you, both when he’s trying to charm you and when you’re already in a relationship.

“Good morning, beautiful!”

“What’re you up to, gorgeous?”

“Hey, where ya going, hot stuff?”

(Okay, that last one was suggested by Sirius, and James felt like a doofus saying that out loud, particularly because Professor McGonagall happened to be crossing the hallway at the exact same time and gave him one of her legendary death glares, but Sirius and you had an hour-long laugh after that, so it was worth it, in the end.)

James would absolutely come with you at any rock/metal concert you went to. Being a teenager in the 70′s, I imagine he would be very into music (are you KIDDING), and being a Halfblood, he’d probably know a lot about wizard and muggle bands. Besides, any excuse to go on a date with you, yell at the top of his lungs, and get absolutely smashed is welcome.

He’ll always there for you if you feel like crowdsurfing, always there to catch you and cheer you on as you float above the raging heads everywhere.

He’s there to catch you and cheer you on outside of concert venues, but that’s a quieter story; you’ll deal with it in the morning. For now, just enjoy the music and the vibrations.

800 follower sleepover