#also again very sad that Trevor didn’t say hi… i could see him dogging some food in the van tho. i’m wondering if he didn’t feel well

[depeshemode]

forgot to post this but i made Buzz a little worm! (bc two of my favorite Melvins songs have worm in the title)

i said “i’m sorry it looks so phallic” and he said “that’s okay, most things do” to which laughed.

[hecohansen31]

can you write my sweet dumb lil xavier finding out that his s/o is pregnant? feel like that would be vv cute

(A/N): Hey guys! 

I am going to go back to my requests, although I am very sorry that it took me quite a bit to get through each of them... please understand that lately for various reasons I am extremely struggling on here and outside, so I am extremely sorry if I am a tiny bit... slow... I swear I am trying my best.

Also I did tear up a bit on this (and I love my dumb bitch more than anything).

WARNINGS: Pregnancy, Negative Thoughts About Pregnancy, Mention of Trauma.

You giggled as Xavier rushed to kiss you, just as you walked in your shared apartment, almost making you drop all your grocery bags, and you were unable to lock the door, giving your neighbors quite show with the way Xavier almost jumped you.

Whenever Xavier insisted on you two getting a dog, you would always reply that you didn’t need one, since he was already acting as an overgrown Labrador retriever, and the way he always celebrated you opening the door, in that moment coming at home from work, proved it.

Still fact that Xavier had insisted on getting a dog, since the apartment was too big for just you two, had made you feel slightly better after the doctor had told you the troubling news you had on your mind.

You were pregnant.

A few weeks, but you had been already bothered for the entire week by nauseous situations, although the fact that they kept happening all through the day had brought you to think that it wasn’t a pregnancy symptom.

But after the doctor had examined you, she had confirmed that you were indeed carrying a little peanut in your stomach, showing you the ultrasound and printing a copy, that you thought about showing to Xavier.

Hadn’t he freaked out in your face at the news.

You two weren’t married, although you had been living together for a few years, at first just as simple collaborators, since you were the photograph of most of his modelling projects, and then as boyfriend and girlfriend.

You hadn’t even talked about children, although you were both aware that you wanted some in the future, and you had stopped using condoms, you were still on birth control, the little peanut in your stomach “sadly” that small percentage in which the pill didn’t seem effective.

Personally, you had been overjoyed by the news, although you couldn’t help but be slightly scared at the news of having to take care of another human being, alongside seeing your body change, and when you had exited the doctor’s office, you had been shaking a bit, choosing to go grocery shopping to solve a bit your tormented soul.

When you had ended up in the clothing alley, you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from looking around the child part, where you spotted tiny clothes in pink and blue, red and yellow, white and brown, showing you the small size your peanut would have.

A wave of nostalgy had grown onto you, making you wonder whether Xavier wanted a child, right now.

He was on top of his career, and maybe a child wasn’t something he wanted.

But it was useless to torment yourself when you hadn’t talked to the man himself.

You just hoped it wouldn’t hurt your relationship, and neither it would have hurt him, since you knew all too well the long journey Xavier had had to reach that state of mind and health.

And you knew that a child would mean a strong change that would maybe destabilize him.

Impulsively you had picked up a small unisex bib and hidden it, after the grocery clerk had scanned it, almost ashamed of the fact that you were pregnant.

“Welcome home babe” Xavier brought you back to your little apartment, meanwhile he nuzzled softly at your neck, affectionately caressing your hips, and you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious and extremely attentive at your stomach.

Although you loved Xavier’s hugs, you were glad when he left you, carrying the grocery store bags, to help you, meanwhile he chirped distractedly on what you wanted for dinner:

“… we have leftovers from last night” the sole reminder of what you had thrown up this morning, made you feel nauseous and you immediately shook your head “… or maybe take-out?”.

Meanwhile he was going through his option, the grocery bags that Xavier was holding, ripped, horribly.

There was not anything frail or easily breakable in the bag, but as Xavier moved down to collect the items, he found himself looking at a bib for a child.

Your mind went through a myriad of lines you could use: a joking gift for Chet, a real gift for Trevor’s little girl, who was barely a year old or …

… or just maybe you could tell the truth.

“… what is this?” asked smirking with curiousness Xavier, meanwhile he collected gently the little fabric in his hand, staring at it and then raising his eyes to you “… is this … a bib?”.

“We might need it” you blurted, clutching your hands on your stomach, avoiding to face him in anyway “… I …”.

Xavier moved closer, his nose slightly scrunched up as he always did when he was trying to understand what was going on, and he wasn’t just connecting the dots.

“… what do you mean, babe?” he asked, moving closer but you stopped him halfway.

“There is a bun in my oven” no reaction showed on his face “… we are having a little peanut”.

You knew you were sounding ridiculous but what was even more ridiculous was the blank stare on Xavier’s face.

“:.. (Y/N), it isn’t funny… you know metaphors are not my…”.

“I am pregnant” it hurt to utter the reality out loud, since you honestly hadn’t thought of saying out loud, since it meant accepting it, but the smirk on Xavier’s face as he finally understood what you meant, made it all worth it.

“… this isn’t a joke” he stated, meanwhile you nodded, softly moving closer, but again he literally barreled onto you and picked you up in full princess style, twirling you around, as you screamed at him to be careful for your baby.

“You are making him throw up in my tummy” you taunted him and immediately, seriously worried that it might happen he put you down and you started laughing out loud in his face “… you are an idiot, Xavier”.

“Well you made a baby with an idiot, what does that say about you, babe?” he mumbled, shooting back at you who punched slightly his shoulder “… I can’t believe that we made a baby”.

“I was worried that you wouldn’t…” your voice broke halfway through it “… want the baby”.

“Babe, you literally made any of my dreams come true” he made you stare into his pretty eyes, and you knew he wasn’t lying in the least “… and I’ll for ever be grateful for the day we met, you gave me hope, respect, a new chance to live my life and finally… a child”.

He then kissed your forehead.

“I love you and our little peanut so so much”.

That night, after celebrating your little “bun” with sparkling water and discussing about what it might entail for you two and your careers, you had fallen asleep thinking about baby names with Xavier.

You were awoken by a soft hand raising your shirt, but you didn’t raise your eyes, knowing that it was Xavier, who would sometimes take comfort in the simplest of human contacts: your skin against his.

But then you heard him speak:

“Hey peanut! Your mom is asleep, so I’ll have to keep this low, I don’t want her to wake up and call me dumb, because you are too small to actually hear me” you couldn’t hide the slight smile that appeared on your face, but Xavier was too focused on your stomach, still flat but swelling with love, to actually notice it “… she has a pendant for thinking that I am dumb, and I really hope that you won’t think it too, because two against one it isn’t funny”.

Although he was pretending to be outraged, you felt his smirk against your heated skin.

“… but I honestly hope that you’ll think I am cool, because you see…” the smirk turned in a grimace “… I am not very cool, your mom is, she is a freaking badass”.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit sad by Xavier’s confession and almost wanted to stop this to comfort him, but he softly pushed his lips against your stomach to blow a soft raspberry.

“… she is the one reason why I am still here” he continued “… she is tough and might seem inflexible and strict, but she always knows what is best for you, even if you don’t see it, I honestly hope you take from her”.

You did tear up a bit, after his confession, because you had so many flaws: you were intolerant towards the smallest of things, you couldn’t be bothered with changes and sometimes could pass off as intimidating, but each sweet thing that Xavier said about you, they made you feel better and the thought that he wanted your little peanut to grow up like you, made you blossom with joy.

But the truth is that you also hoped that the child would somehow take from Xavier: his cheerful personality and the way he would help anybody, without thinking too much about himself, being a loyal friend and a romantic and patient lover.

You hoped that peanut would just take the best from both of you.

“I honestly can’t wait to meet you, peanut, you are the best thing in my life that I have ever created”

[omniscientprostitute]

Young Gun

Relationship: Trevor Collins x fem!Reader

Summary: You meet one of the infamous Fakes

Warnings: cursing, mild violence, random plot directions

Word Count: 2835

A/N: This is set in the FAHC universe. I took some liberties. Also, this work was inspired by a fic I read a few years ago called “down to ride (till the happy end)” by raewastaken (IWriteLove) on Archive of Our Own.http://archiveofourown.org/works/5838430

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It wasn’t a secret that Los Santos wasn’t the best place to live The city was full of gangs and corrupt cops. It was impossible to be sure who was civilian and who was criminal. It didn’t help that your apartment was in a sketchy part of town. It wasn’t your fault you were trying to pay off a college tuition and pay rent on a minimum wage paycheck. You worked at a cute little bookstore a few blocks from your apartment. You long twelve hour shifts caused you to fall into bed exhausted most nights. That meant you could normally sleep through police sirens, but they seemed closer tonight, as if the police were circling the neighborhood. You could have sworn someone was at the window in the living room. You held your breath and laid perfectly still, while you listened to the latch on your window click. There was silence, then soft footsteps creeping towards your room. You grabbed the book off of your nightstand and scurried behind your bedroom door. There was a tense moment before the door cautiously squeaked open. You swung the book, catching the tall man on the arm. He spun, and you looked down the barrel of a handgun. You squeaked, dropping the book and putting your hands up. The man moved you to the living room, where he turned on the lights after closing all of the drapes and blinds. He wore a black bandana over the majority of his face, but his brown eyes were soft and expressive. “Do you have a phone?”

“Right bedside table.” You instructed. “The password is Alexander Pope’s death date.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” The man sassed.

“Are you supposed to be in my apartment?” You automatically snapped back. “It’s May thirtieth seventeen-forty-four.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Stay here.” You did as he instructed. Your fingers playing with the hem of your sleeping shirt. He returned to the room with your phone pressed to his cheek. The person on the other end of the phone didn’t seem happy. The man said his general whereabouts before slipping the phone into his pocket.

“Excuse me.”

“I can’t have you going to the police and tracing back the number I called.”

“Then I need a couple hundred dollars, so I can buy myself a new phone tomorrow.” You took pleasure in his surprised raised eyebrows. “I work a minimum wage job and have to pay off student loans and pay rent; it’s going to take me months to make enough to afford a phone. I’m a petite, twenty-two year old female without a car; my phone is the only protection I have. So, unless you’re going to escort me around the city, I need enough money for a new phone.” The staring contest between you and the man was interrupted by a short honk from outside your apartment. Without addressing you, the man exited the apartment with your phone.

The first thing you did when you got back to your apartment after work was take your bra off and open the fridge. You settled for reheating Mac N’ Cheese, craving some comfort food after the last twenty-four hours of stress. You didn’t notice the little wrapped box sitting on the coffee table, until you plopped down on the couch. The box was rectangular and heavy, wrapped neatly in Happy Birthday wrapping paper. You carefully ripped the paper, exposing the newest smartphone on the market. You almost dropped it to fumble for the little card that was tucked in the box:

I can’t afford to escort you around the

city, but you’re too cute to leave helpless.

The password is Alexander Pope’s death.

~Zed

You smiled at the note despite the fact that it was written by a dangerous criminal who broke into your apartment and stole your phone. Despite everything, you unlocked the phone anyway and found that all of your contacts, photos, and applications had been transferred over. Reopening the card, you considered the name Zed. It was most likely an alias. Using your new phone, you googled “Zed in Los Santos”. The most likely result was a series of police reports linking Zed with various robberies as well as the Fake AH Crew. One of the articles had a picture included. The man had been caught on video robbing a gas station, and the man in the grainy image was definitely the same guy who had broken into your apartment. The new information did make the prior evening even more terrifying, but you figured you would never see Zed again. You didn’t have anything he would want.

Forty-three minutes. You had been sitting at the counter of one of the less seedy bars in Los Santos for forty-three minutes, waiting for a date that most likely wasn’t going to show. You hadn’t been on a date in years, which was supposedly some sort of social sin based on the way your coworker reacted. So, you had let yourself be set up on a blind date. Now you felt stupid, and slightly insulted, sitting alone at a bar in a nice black dress, playing games on your phone and drinking shitty beer. You were also sort of on edge due to the group of rowdy guys huddled around the pool table by the door. There was a woman with them, but she was obviously one of them. You pushed your finished beer away and checked the time. It was eight-ten; you weren’t comfortable being out alone after nine-thirty. You knew there was no point waiting around, but it was sort of nice being out of the apartment. You looked up as the bartender set a drink down in front of you. “Courtesy of Zed.” You startled at the name and fought the urge to jerk around and search for him. Instead, you brought the glass to your lips, pleased that he had sent you something decent to drink.

You left the bar after finishing the drink. It was closing in on ten o’clock which made you nervous, but you began your walk anyway. You were a few buildings down from the bar when you felt a hand gently grab your elbow. Jerking away, you lifted your bag to hit whoever had grabbed you. You thumped the man a few times in the chest with your purse before recognizing the bandana and the brown eyes. “Jesus, Zed.”

He seemed to perk up at the use of his alias. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to walk home alone. It’s not safe. You should take a cab.”

“That’s sweet, thank you.” You began walking, not wanting to be out on the street any longer than you had to.

“So, why were you all alone at a bar?”

“I got stood up.” You admitted. “Then you bought me a drink, but didn’t come to say hello.”

“I don’t really want my friends to know about you.”

“Yet you ditch them to walk me home?”

“I told them I was going to get something to eat.”

You decided to change the conversation. “So, is the bandana a crew thing?”

“No. They prefer masks, but masks mess up my hair.” Zed ran a hand through his hair. You laughed politely, but allowed yourself to appreciate the fluffy brown hair. The tips were a bit lighter, like it had been dyed. “You look very nice by the way.”

You blushed. “Thank you. I’m glad someone appreciated the work I put in.” You obnoxiously flipper your hair making Zed laugh.

“Did you know the guy?”

“No. He’s my coworker’s friend.” You noted that you were closing in on your apartment. You were a little sad that your walk was ending. “It’s not that big of a deal. I mostly agreed to humor her.”

“Really?” Zed inquired; his right eyebrow raising.

You didn’t know why you were being so open with Zed. He was a dangerous criminal, but he also seemed like a real person. “I’ve been single for over six months. I get a little lonely sometimes.” Zed walked you up to your apartment. “Thank you for walking me home. Even though you broke into my apartment, you made me feel safe.” You made it obvious that you were teasing. “Have a good evening Zed.” You suppressed the urge to kiss his cloth covered cheek before retreating into your apartment.

For the next month, you life returned to it’s calm state. Work ruled your life. Despite you coworker’s further pressing, you declined any other dates. You wouldn’t say you fell into a depression, but there was definitely a dullness that took over your life. If your landlord would have allowed it, you would have gotten a pet, probably a dog that would require you to leave the apartment for walks or get off the couch to play.

You were sitting on your couch eating a salad with limp lettuce and watching The Twilight Zone, when your living room window slid open. A short but wide shouldered man slid in before collapsing to the floor. You sprinted over, closing the window, and drawing the curtains The man rolled onto his back: “You’re Treyco’s girlfriend right?”

“Who?” You stepped back as the man got to his feet.

“I thought this was the right apartment.”

“The only criminal I know is Zed, and I haven’t seen him in over a month.”

“So you are her!” The man pumped his fist in the air. “Zed is Treyco.” He explained. “And, I’m Rimmy Tim, but you can call me Lil J. I’m Treyco’s best friend.”

“Umm, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I should be saying that to you.” Lil J followed you into the kitchen, where you began fixing yourself more salad since most of yours had ended up on the floor. “He hasn’t stopped talking about you, since he broke into your apartment to avoid the cops. God, it’s so annoying. ‘Oh Jeremy, she was so adorable. She’s so smart and she wears Batman boxers to bed. Her name is Y/N, and she works at a book store.” Lil J suddenly dropped the high pitched voice he had adopted. “it’s so gross. I just had to check you out.” You knew your face was bright red. You were flattered by the compliments, although it seemed like Zed or Treyco was stalking you. “I gotta’ admit; you are pretty cute.”

“Thank you?”

“Well, I’ve gotta’ run. See you around Y/N.” Lil J then walked out the front door.

The next morning you found a vase of flowers on your counter with a note that said:

Sorry about Lil J.

~Zed

You were in the middle of straightening the children’s books when the bell over the front entrance tinkled softly. “Welcome to Marlee’s Books. Holler if you need anything.” You called before peeking your head around the bookshelf. The most attractive man ever was looking at the display of new releases in the front. He was tall but not lanky. He wore light brown leather boots, fitted dark wash jeans, and a light gray jacket over a pale green shirt. His hair and the tips of his ears were tucked under a black beanie. He looked like a model. You hid back behind the stacks and internally screamed as you moved from the children’s section to non-fiction. A man that gorgeous probably already had a girlfriend.

“Hey.” You jumped at the voice that almost sounded familiar. “I was wondering if you had any Alexander Pope?” You nodded, quickly setting aside the books you were straightening and hurried out of the aisle. You didn’t make eye-contact with the man as he followed you through the store.

“All of our Neoclassical authors are in this area.” You stopped in front of the shelf housing works by Alexander Pope. “My personal favorite is The Complete Collection; it’s a little expensive, but it includes a partial biography and all of his literary criticisms. Most collections only include his poems and essays.”

“Thank you.” You took that as a dismissal and returned to the non-fiction section.

The man perused the store for more than an hour before approaching the counter. He had selected three books, one of which was the collection that you had recommended. “Did you find everything you were looking for?”

“Yes, thank you.” In a lapse of self-awareness, you made eye-contact with the man. He had brown eyes that looked like pools of melted dark chocolate.

“Your total is sixty-five forty-eight.” The man handed you a fancy black card with the name Trevor Collins engraved in gold on it. “Have a nice day Mr. Collins.”

“You too.”

The rest of your shift was uneventful. A few of the regulars came in to buy some of the new releases, but other than that the store was quiet. The lack of patrons allowed you to complete your duties earlier than usual. You vacuumed and dusted before clocking out and handing your keys to the closing manager. Knowing that you had no food in your apartment, you decided to stop by a Mexican place on the way home. Had you been paying attention, you wouldn’t have gone in. Gang territory disputes could happen anywhere at anytime. Sometimes they happened in the middle of the street. Sometimes they happened in a Mexican restaurant. You were immediately knocked over the head with the but of a gun and bound with rubber hosing. The gang member waived a gun in your face as a warning to be quiet, then they shoved you in the back. There were three employees in the back, all of which had been killed by a bullet to the forehead.

They seemed to have forgotten about you until the cops showed up. You were forced over bodies of the losing gang and pressed against the storefront window. A gun was pressed to your head. You could see about three cop cars and a handful of reporters with cameras outside of the restaurant. You wondered if they were live, if somewhere hot guy Trevor Collins, or criminal nice-guy Zed was watching you be used as a hostage. Everyone was yelling, but you weren’t understanding what was being said. You figured they were negotiating with your life.

Suddenly the window in front of you shattered, and the guy who had been holding you dropped with a bullet in his head. You had enough mind to fall onto your stomach as the night’s second shoot out occurred over your head. You curled into a ball and waited for the police to get you. You were put in an ambulance and taken to the hospital, but you were sent home before midnight.

You entered your apartment to find the hot guy Trevor Collins standing in your kitchen with a familiar bandana hanging around his neck. “I should have figured you were gorgeous.” You walked past Trevor to throw yourself onto the couch. “So, were you there or did you see it on the news?”

“I saw it on the news.” You felt the couch dip by your feet.

“Why are you here Zed, or Treyco, or Trevor, whoever you are right now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then leave!” You jerked into a sitting position. “You’re whole--I’m going to be everywhere for a week then disappear for a month--thing is incredibly confusing, especially with you detached but protective attitude. Either take me on a date or leave me alone!” Your stomach dropped as Trevor got up from the couch.

“You should probably take off work tomorrow. Tonight must have been really stressful.”

Despite you being unable to close your eyes without getting vivid flashbacks, you didn’t call into work. Your manager and coworkers who had seen the news sent you home, but you didn’t return to your apartment you hunkered down in a cafe around the corner. Alone was the worst thing for you at the moment. You stared into the black mil of your coffee. You couldn’t tell if Trevor had been hurt or angered by your outburst. He definitely closed himself off, but you hoped that didn’t mean he was leaving you alone. Bot that he owed you anything. Trevor was probably busy with criminal stuff; he didn’t need to be messing around with you. “You are supposed to be at home.” You looked up, a small smile gracing your lips at Trevor’s exasperated tone. “Do you mind if I sit?” You shook your head. “So, coffee shop?”

“Didn’t really want to be alone.” You admitted. “I’m sorry about last night. That was out of line.”

“No, I needed to hear it.” Trevor looked down into his own coffee. “I like you a lot; I was just unsure what with my profession, but I talked to some friends, and I would really like to take you on a date.”

“Does this count?” You asked, nudging Trevor’s cup with your own.

“Only if you let me buy your next one.”

“I think we can make that happen.”

[isitandwonder]

The Final Problem is bad and boring and here is why

I had to rewatch TFP yesterday (IN GERMAN!) with a bunch of friends. I hadn’t watched it after it aired in January, and it had developed into some kind of uber-evil episode for me. Because it ruined the whole show for me. Because it didn’t make any sense. I remembered it as tense and brutal. But, you know what - it isn’t. It’s just really, really boring and very badly done.

Because:

Do yourself a favour and watch the Why Sherlock is Garbage video. Watch the whole of it, especially the first hour. Because there he explains why Mofftiss are really bad writers for television. One point in their favour I see over and over again is that Mofftiss couldn’t suddenly have forgotten how to write good telly, therefore Sherlock, especially S4, and especially TFP, must have a deeper meaning, are fake, a social experiment, whatever. Just: NO! This argument crashes - because they are really bad writers. They are very good at coming over as clever for a while - but in the end it’s revealed that there is nothing behind all the suspense they are building, that all their arcs lead nowhere, that nothing means anything or has any consequences. The guy explains this by analysing DW and Jekyll - and you find all of this in Sherlock as well. Like, they constantly up the ante - but with no plan or goal in mind, just for the sake of it. Or that the most important moments of the stories happen off screen. Or that they don’t follow the basic rule of show, don’t tell. Or that they never explore their characters’ motivations. We never learn why people do anything on this show. I will talk about this later. Those are basic writing skills! And they just throw them overboard. Which is not a very good idea.

Me, spewing an angry rant, below the cut. 

Let me explain this with Sherlock S4 and TFP: Why should anyone watch this episode? We start off with a little, helpless girl on a plane. Her life is threatened. She gets a spooky phonecall from the dead uber-villain. OK, that’s a setup. I’m sure I’ll see how Sherlock saves this little girl. But, hahaha, stupid me, of course I won’t, because this is a Mofftiss show. There is no plane, no girl, and Moriarty is dead and never was the big baddy anyway! So, why should I ever want to watch this episode again? I, as a viewer, was led on by the frame narrative! And I could have know. They really rub it gleefully in. Because after this dramatic setup, I am at Mycroft’s house. There are bleeding paintings and killer-clowns. That doesn’t make sense, but it gives the episode some suspense. Only to be again revealed that it was all just a hoax. OK, up until now I have watched like 10 minutes of narrative that have absolutely no meaning at all for the whole show. Sherlock even knew before that he had a sister, he didn’t even need Mycroft to tell him this... It’s all noise and surprise and rug pull after rug pull - but with no substance, no meaning. And that is boring!

Because a story needs conflict and motivation. But what motivates Sherlock and John to play their charade on Mycroft? No idea. And why would Sherlock Holmes want to save this little girl on a plane. He doesn’t know her! Because the male hero always saves the little child? But not Sherlock! Remember TGG, the little kid on the phone with the Van Buren deduction. Sherlock has 10 seconds, and wastes 9,5 on wanking about how clever he is. He doesn’t care for the child, it’s all about the puzzle and how clever he is. He even explains that he doesn’t care for other people, or not in the sense that he pities them or is empathic to their suffering. He cares by helping them in other ways, by solving the riddles. For example, Sherlock would explain to the girl how to land this plane or get help. That’s when Eurus has to intervene, cutting the phone line. See? Even the frame narrative that should keep you hooked and explain why Sherlock does what he does is lacking! It doesn’t work with the characters you have introduced and portrayed over the cause of years. Oh, I get it, Sherlock cares now - CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT! But I don’t see it, I’m just told that this happened. Perhaps as John kicked the shit out of him in the morgue, thereby kind of lobotomising Sherlock Holmes. Again, why choose this frame narrative at all? No idea. Why doesn’t Eurus take John as a hostage? That would have been interesting - not a little girl I don’t know in a plane that doesn’t exist. There could have been great interaction between John, Eurus and Sherlock! Anatgonising conflict. Sherlock choosing between his sister and his best friend in a way that would have interested me as a viewer because I got rather invested in Sherlock and John over the years (not into the sister though). You could even have ended this whith a hug for Eurus, after Sherlock had freed John by being clever. He could have forgiven her like this - for something that really mattered. Sorry, but the death of random strangers or the crashing of mind planes just doesn’t move me as would have a threat to John Watson.

And that brings me to how Mofftiss portray Sherlock Holmes. This is also retrieved from the above cited video. The original stories are not about Holmes and Watson. They tell them, they are in it - but they are about the mysteries, the crimes, the adventures. There is not even a frame that holds them together other than these two character always being in them. There is no overreaching arc. You can start at any point reading them. The correct order is even up for debate. But they are not about Holmes and Watson. What gets the reader hooked are mere glimpses at their relationship. That gets us speculating. Doyle knew that he shouldn’t expose too much. That would have shattered the mystery surrounding Holmes. The reader likes to feel cleverer than the great detective. That’s why, for example, it is so rewarding to read about Holmes and Adler. Holmes says he doesn’t like women - and then he gets beaten by a woman. It is always nice to see the underdog win. That’s why SCAN is such a good story. And ASiB isn’t in the end. Because the cool guy wins. Where is the story there, the motivation, the conflict? Why should I care?

The problem of BBC Sherlock is that it is all about Sherlock. During S1 and S2, there are at least some cases, we get an arch-enemy, some motivation, conflict, we meet Sherlock and John and watch them solve crimes together and become friends That’s ok, it’s funny, sometimes thrilling, sometimes sad, it promises something (how did Sherlock survive?), gives us drama - and it looks good. But From S3 onwards it’s just Sherlock - and a bit John. What motivates him, what drives him, his trauma... there are no real cases anymore and the few cases we see are all tied in with Sherlock and John (Mary!) - they are only told to show us what happens with Sherlock, what made him,  how he changes (or does he? Looking at the traincar scene or the scene after John saves him from Culverton). Sherlock gets explained. Which is not necessary, at least it doesn’t happen in the original stories, where we are left to speculate, but one can do it - Holmesians try it since the stories were first published. But if you do that, and do it over at least three series and five years - THEN YOU SIMPLY CAN’T TELL YOUR AUDIENCE THAT IT DOESN’T MATTER WHO YOU ARE IN THE END. If the whole purpose of the series was to explain Sherlock - then why let it end with this monologue? Just - NO! Again, the audience was led on. We were told and shown that this is about Sherlock, the human being. Only to be laughed at in the end... because it doesn’t matter. All that matters is THE LEGEND! Fuck off!

Nothing matters on this show! Why does Eurus do what she does? No idea. Oh, she mad. Why should I get invested in this character? I don’t know her. She’s not even canon. The characters that are canon - the Garridebs, or Victor Trevor - on the other hand don’t matter at all. I see more of Redbeard the dog than of Victor the boy. Therefore, I’m invetsed in the dog - that never existed, again I was played, because I got invested in a psychic dog. But why should I care for Victor? I don’t even see him properly. If I wasn’t familiar with canon, I wouldn’t even know who the fuck this boy should be. Sherlock tells me he has no friends, he has only John - oh, that was a lie as well, haha, and I thought John was special, but he wasn’t, he was just filling in for dogboy. This kind of storytelling errodes your whole narrative - a narrative I got rather invested in but that in the end didn’t matter at all.

Why does Moriarty do what he does? No idea either. Because of Eurus? But why the great game then, why wanting Sherlock to jump, if he knew that his sister was after him? Why did Eurus come after Sherlock only now, not five years earlier? No idea. Oh, of course, because Mofftiss didn’t know she existed when they wrote the first 2 series! God, this is sooo bad!

As TFP progresses, I’m told how evil and crazy Eurus is. I see her kill people - but I don’t really care, because there is no reason why she does it and I don’t know those people either. It’s just random violence - and therefore boring.

Anothere thing that makes TFP really bad and boring is that there are too many people in it. It could have been much more intense if Sherlock went alone to Sherrinford to confront his sister. It could have been a nightmarish chamber play between an exceptional actor and a very versatile actress , facing off. But Mofftiss didn’t trust their own story. Therefore, John and Mycroft accompany Sherlock - and this is at least one person too many. Sherlock and John would have been good - Sherlock needs a sounding board, they could have been in this together, their relationship could have grown, they could have bonded again, especially after the events of TST and TLD - oh, but no, because no homo! They need a chaperone. Therefore Mycroft - because Gatiss wrote the episode with Moffat. But this leads to John just bumbling along, looking like a tired old pancake. That is his whole narrative function in this story. Because Gatiss gave all the good lines to himself. John isn’t needed - and that blatantly shows.

It could have been intense if Sherlock really had been forced to shoot John - especially after the hug. It could have been intense if Sherlock had been forced to kill his brother. But, again, this scene goes nowhere, because Sherlock chooses the only logical way out - which he could have chosen even back with the rifle - and tries to kill himself - again (boring). Why write such a scene in the first place? And why is Mycroft suddenly with them? Filling in for Mary? He’s totally OOC. And in the end - he just vanishes, because at Musgrave, there are just Sherlock and John! So why write Mycroft in Sherrinford? He’s not needed there. It could have just been Sherlock and John. Gatiss did castrate John Watson! (Maybe he thought that standing next to these two superstars would make him hot and sexy as well?)

BTW - soldiers? Sherlock Holmes isn’t and never was a soldier! Soldiers are very masculine men following orders. Sherlock Holmes never was very masculine - he was bohemian! He doesn’t solve mysteries by violence, he does it mostly by thinking. And he is his own world, a law unto himself - he doesn’t follow orders! Why, again and again, tell us they are soldiers in Sherrinford? Oh, no homo, they are such tough guys - fuck off!

I will never forgive them what they did to the Musgrave Ritual. It is one of my favourite stories. You learn a bit about Holmes’ past. It is very clever. I loved the riddle. And it has meaning - it’s about what really is important in life - loyalty, not wealth. It’s even about class conflict. Nothing of it made it into TFP. The story is reduced to some random words on screen - no mystery, no riddle. Not important! Instead, we get Sherlock suddenly in his coat. Why? Because Benedict, dashing about between graves in a moonlit night, his greatcoat billowing behind him, looks amazing. It does! But it’s look over substance again - and that is boring.

Oh, and then they again prepare a rug pull, the climax - John in the well, the water rising. But suddenly, Sherlock has to hug his sister first, so John has to wait with drowning. AND THEN WE DON’T EVEN SEE HOW HE IS SAVED FROM THE FUCKING WELL! That ist exactly what the video guy laments: The really important bits happen off screen and are not shown. Why should I watch this? Because Sherlock forgives his sister - a character I don’t know, who has no motivation?

If a show needs people writing 20k of meta regarding a scene, explaining that it meant the total opposite of what I saw with my own eyes on screen - then this is not very good storytelling (and I say this as a person who did write those 20k metas).

It is boring. It is bad! In the end, they couldn’t lie to all the people all the time. Their shortcomings as storytellers finally came to light. This was what they thought the best they’ve ever written. I can’t believe I fell for it.

I really hope they don’t do Raffles next. Because I know what will happen.

I remember how I first watched ASiP. As my husband asked me how it was, I told him I wasn’t sure if it was really good or really bad. I had never seen anything like it. I had to watch it again. And again. And again. I was fascinated. I was hooked. Not with TFP. I will never watch that again. Ever.

[betterreadthandeadbookclub]

Winner Revealed in Writing Contest!

The time has finally come for us to announce the winners of our Short Story and Poetry Writing Contest. To be fair, we’ve selected a winner from each category since we didn’t feel they could be appropriately compared to each other. We’d like to thank everyone that entered, and encourage them to continue writing.

  Announcement: This holiday season we will be conducting a giveaway! Two copies will be available of the book we’re reading and reviewing over Winter Break. More details to come soon, but be on the lookout for this free opportunity to win a book!

Poetry Winner: Reflection by C. E. Galdi

Tumblr: @maudgone

REFLECTION

wonder if I am

the pair of eyes I wake up to every morning.

there is a mirror above my bed.

I snap myself into focus to confirm

that it is my reflection, and nothing more.

wonder if I am

the glittery powders caked onto shiny skin

that I apply methodically, like painting.

they say painting is calming, that it doesn’t matter

what the finished product looks like.

wonder if I am

the hollowed-out gremlin in the gas station bathroom

mirror, reflected like a demon, yellow skin and

pockmarks like an antiquated plague.

I smell of antibacterial soap and death.

wonder if I am

the lopsided grin in an old photo

smile stretched too wide, unknowing.

everybody else composes their faces,

knows how to stand.  

wonder if I am

the girl in the front camera

who smiles mysteriously and has no blemishes.

she is too pretty to be me, really,

the screen is lying. she’s fake and so am I.

wonder if I am

something real, or if they all just

see right through me. maybe they can’t

look at me, maybe I’m just

background noise, a faceless shape.

Short Story Winner: Guardian by Charlotte H.

Tumblr: @treepengui

Guardian

  I am her guardian, and I have been since she was small. No, I was never bigger than her. I only remember a short time where I was not with her and the others.

  My mother, she was gone, and the nice woman had taken us in. I don’t remember the name of the nice woman. Maybe Cynthia. Human names are weird like that. But while I was there, Maybe Cynthia gave me the name of ‘Chloe’. Chloe is not my name.

  Her mother and her father came to see us, eventually. They were not the first to visit us, to look at our ears and our paws and to smile and coo. But they were the only ones to take us home.

  They did not take my brothers and sisters. In the car, in that dark box, I was alone.

  I don’t like being in the car. It moves unnaturally fast. It’s too small. The humans, they are relaxed there. They are at ease, listening to music and talking.

  I don’t understand how they are. Maybe because they are not put into cages.  Dark, plastic cages.

  The mother’s name was Jennifer, but she is not the only Jennifer I have met. The father’s name was Trevor. I have never met another Trevor in person, but I know they exist.

  What is the point of names if there is someone else who shares one? Names are something to mark you as being you, so why share?

  Humans are strange like that.

  Her name was Christine. She had one sister and one brother, both older than her. Her sister’s name was Chloe, so they gave me a new name, thankfully. Her brother’s name was Alex.

  They named me Zoe.

  Zoe, Chloe, Zoe, Chloe. They sound practically the same, except Zoe is by far better. I don’t know a human by the name of Zoe. I am the Only Zoe.

Zoe is a nice name.

  Christine had her seventh birthday a week after I turned one. They burned eight candles and ate cake and sang a song that they would sing, ritually, every year. They gave her presents.

  “When’s Zoe’s birthday?” She asked after all the other small humans had left.   “We don’t actually know,” her mother answered. “They found her in the wild.”   Chloe frowned. “That’s not fair. She can have my birthday, too.” She picked me up and held me above her head while her parents rushed to grab me.

  “You’re one year old now, Zoe!” She said, beaming. Then she sang the ritual song for me.

  I slept in her bed, hers alone. Chloe and Alex had tried to set me down on their beds, have me warm them, but I left them.

  Christine often woke up in the middle of the night, silently terrified. I would go to her and lick her face, and she would pet my head.

  She’d dry her tears and shakily tell me her dreams. I would stay by her, guarding her. I am her guardian, after all.

  While she slept, I would fight the darkness around her bed. They would attack me while they tried to get to her. In the early days, they often beat me and got to her.

  As time went on, I learned how to fight them. They don’t like light, I learned. I also learned that humans don’t like light in the middle of the night either. They despise noise, but so do humans when they rest.

  In the end, I resorted to movement. The darkness couldn’t reach her if they were constantly being disrupted by my tail, or paws, or head.

  Christine grew and grew.  Maybe a month or so after her tenth birthday, Alex left home and rarely visited.

  “He’s at school, Zoe. Don’t worry about him.” Chloe had told me when she found me looking around Alex’s abandoned room.

  I wasn’t searching for him, though. I had found light in his room and was trying to take it to Christine. Chloe picked me up and carried me out of his room before closing the door and cutting off my access.

  Christine cried as she hugged a friend, at least a year later. They stood in our front yard just weeping. Finally, Christine’s parents and the friend’s parents came to take them both away.   Jennifer and Trevor hugged Christine as she continued to cry, now inside. Christine picked me up and held me to her chest and cried.

  That night, I laid on top of her back. Christine, unlike the other humans, always slept on her front.

  I had found that if I stayed with her all night, the darkness wouldn’t attack her. So I did.

  “Emmy’s moving back to London,” she whispered to me. “So I’ll never see her again.”

  I wished she hadn’t said it, because the darkness would always use it against her. I liked knowing, though.

  The next year came and my Christine was twelve. Jennifer, Trevor, Chloe, and Christine packed everything into boxes.   Strange men and women came into our house and took the boxes and packed them into a large truck.

  Christine’s family left the house for hours, then came back with more things (Christine was given a bag full of writing and pictures). Christine cried again, much more than when her friend had left. Even Chloe cried, though not very much. By the time Christine was twelve, Chloe was already cold.

  Then came the car trip.

  It was a longer trip than I had had ever been on. It took us two days to reach ‘Michigan’, our new home.  

  I hated the entire time. I hated the car and I hated the cramped space. I hated the plastic box they put me in and I hated the music they played. I hissed and peed, and then everyone was annoyed and angry and I hated that too.

  I have never been as hateful as those two days.

  Christine was thirteen when she had her First Boyfriend. She told me all about him during the days and nights. I liked the new home much better than the old home. There was less darkness.

  “He’s… alright. He’s nice and funny, and cute, I guess? And he asked me out, and my friends told me to say yes, so I did? I don’t know.”   I wondered then if Christine even liked him at all. And now, thinking back, maybe she did. Just not in the way everyone was hoping.

  Trevor hated the First Boyfriend in a very confusing way. Jennifer liked the First Boyfriend, but not enough to keep Trevor from making the First Boyfriend into the First Ex-Boyfriend.

  Christine didn’t cry for him like Chloe thought she would. Chloe had brought her cookie-dough ice cream, her favorite, and a movie she thought she liked. Christine liked it well enough.

  “Why aren’t you sad?”   “I guess I’m sad.”

  “I cried over my First Boyfriend.”   Too much name sharing.

  “Well, I guess I didn’t. We can still have the ice cream, right? Even if I didn’t cry?”

  Chloe had laughed. “Of course.”

  Christine had her Second Boyfriend, or her Justin, when she was fifteen. Trevor and Jennifer let her keep him, and they dated for a while.

  I never liked Justin. Justin, to me, was the human equivalent of a car trip to some, unknown location.

  When Christine came back home crying, with a mark on her face, I knew that Justin was the human version of a car ride to the vet.

  There was lots of yelling in the Days After Justin. Christine yelled at her phone and Trevor and Jennifer yelled at Justin when he came to visit, then Chloe yelled at him too as well as her phone.

  Chloe left, just like Alex, when Christine turned sixteen.

  The house was more empty with Chloe gone. Christine didn’t cry as much anymore. She was just there.

  There was even more darkness to fight in the nights.

  Jennifer and Trevor came back home with a dog, Jacob.

  Jacob looked different from me. I have cream colored fur, while he had brown. He liked the name Jacob.

  I have met many people named Jacob.

  Jacob helped me defend Christine.

  Christine smiled more in the days after Jacob came.

  When Christine turned seventeen, she had a small sleepover with just her closest friends.

  Christine, I am proud to say, has many friends. She is not a loner like Chloe was.

  I stayed in Christine’s room with them. They pet me while they gossiped.

  The next morning, after breakfast but before the other girls left, they returned to Christine’s room.

  Christine closed her door and sat on the floor, gesturing the others to gather around her. There was darkness, even in the middle of the day, and Christine was scared. More than scared, terrified. I sat on her lap and fought the darkness.

  “I have something to say, and you guys can’t tell anyone else. Seriously. Not your parents, not your siblings. None of our others friends. Alright?”   The other girls agreed, and Christine hesitated. She made them all shake her small finger with their small finger (pinky swear, she had declared).

  “I think that I’m gay.” Christine whispered.

  There was silence, then suddenly, the girls grouped around her. They pat her shoulder, and hugged her, and whispered encouragements. I did my best to do the same.

  Christine smiled, crying a little. But good tears, not moving-to-Michigan tears or Emmy’s-going-back tears. Happy tears. Before then, I didn’t know that happy tears could exist.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  When Christine turned eighteen, there was the First Girlfriend. Christine liked the First Girlfriend a lot more then her First Boyfriend.

  Unlike her First Boyfriend, her First Girlfriend was a Secret Girlfriend.    It wasn’t until they graduated high school that her Secret Girlfriend turned into her Girlfriend.

  It was at the graduation party that Trevor and Jennifer hosted when they came out. Like the party, there was silence. The silence lasted a lot longer than the silence at the party.

  Jacob barked in an attempt to break the silence.

  They ignored him.

  I sat between Christine and Girlfriend and meowed.

  The silence broke.

  Trevor and Jennifer hugged Christine and Girlfriend, and there was a Long Talk that I didn’t get to hear, and the party continued as before. Christine and her Girlfriend were with each other a lot more though, with more hugs and laughter.

  Then, in the months after, Christine left, just as Chloe and Alex had, and Jacob and I were alone.

  Trevor and Jennifer weren’t good replacements for our (my, really, but I can share) girl. They both stopped leaving early in the morning for work and instead they stayed at home.

  Trevor took up gardening and Jennifer started to bake. They went on long walks with Jacob, leaving me alone.

  Chloe, Alex, and Christine all visited us. Alex and Christine both brought home Girlfriends. Chloe brought home nobody.

  And, as nature would declare it, I started aching more and more in my thirteenth year. As did Jacob, actually. He would come home from walks tired and would lie with me. When our people visited, I had to fight Christine’s darkness alone.

  That caused lots of frowning from our people, and Jacob was taken away from home (and me!) for several days.

  In my fourteenth year, Trevor and Jennifer brought home a small black and white cat, (smaller than me, at least) that they named Andrew.

  Andrew was three when they took him in, much older than I had been when they took me home. According to Andrew, he had been sick and wasn’t allowed to leave the house he was in. A likely story for being an unlikable cat, but we pretended to believe him.

  Andrew warmed up to us pretty quickly, actually. Jacob and I trained him on how to best fight the shadows. There was rarely darkness when it was just Jennifer and Trevor, but whenever the others visited, they always brought at least a little. We told Andrew about the times before him. I told him about the Old House, and about Christine’s Justin.

  We waited for our Christine to return to us.

  In the next year, we were struck by two Tragedies. I learned about the first from Andrew. Andrew told us both about the Death of Chloe, and then we learned more. People visited, unfamiliar people dressed in black. Christine and Alex returned. Everyone cried, not just Christine. Christine dressed in black, which I had never seen her do.

  I was very glad to have Andrew with us. There was too much darkness to fight alone.

  The Second Tragedy came three months later in the form of ‘Jacob Has Cancer’. That was just the beginning, however. The true tragedy came about a month later, when Jacob died.

  Cats can’t cry the same way humans can. But sometimes it felt like we should be able to.

  In the next year, when I was sixteen, Christine came back with a Fiancée.    This was the same woman she had brought home the last few times, expect this time, she wasn’t Alana the Girlfriend, she was Alana the Fiancée.

  Over the course of that year, the Wedding was planned. The two didn’t want anything too extravagant, apparently. Christine fought her Trevor and Jennifer on it, but they arranged for the wedding to be shortly after Christine’s twenty-second birthday.

  While they planned, my health got progressively worse. I learned that some cats lose their vision when they get old. I was one of them.

Andrew helped me as much as he could, and fought the darkness as well as he could alone.

  Christine would hold me close to her chest and I could feel her heartbeat, steady and alive. Most humans live so much longer than we do, so I know that her heart will keep beating for many years to come.

  After my seventeenth birthday, the Family left Andrew and I to go to the Wedding. A strange girl visited us twice a day to feed us and pet us. Andrew fought her darkness while I watched, and when she left, he would return to me.

  Trevor and Jennifer came back to us after two weeks. They took me to the vet many times and each time took me back home looking more worried than when we had left.

  When the Last Day came, I knew it would be. I stayed near them, but wouldn’t crawl into their laps. They pet me while crouched on the floor.

  Andrew told me that they were trying to get Christine and Alex to come back. I didn’t care that much about Alex. I wanted my Christine.

  By the time Christine came, my breathing had become more laborious. She pet me gently while crying softly and whispering memories to me.

  Andrew fought the darkness around us while we waited for my Last Day to end. But by the time it was my Last Day, my vision had deteriorated so much that I could barely see Christine’s face.

  They picked me up and wrapped me gently in a towel. All of their movements were gentle, which I appreciated. The Last Day hurts.

  I hated the car ride less than I hated the other car rides. I stayed in Christine’s lap while we drove, and when she carried me I didn’t resist.

  They had taken me to the vet.

  My Last Day ended with a pin prick while surrounded by the humans that loved me. As Last Days go, it wasn’t the worst. They got their tears in my fur, though, and I didn't get to see Andrew again. But it didn’t hurt more than the hurt that I was already feeling.

  My Christine will have to be protected by Andrew, and then another cat or dog. But I know that she will forever remember me as her Guardian.

Thank you again to all who entered and congratulations to our winners!

Better Read than Dead,

Geneva & Addie

(If you entered we have sent you an email with your score. If you would like to know how it was derived and receive a breakdown please let us know!)

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[willsherjohnkhan]

Complicated Little Emotions

Chapter 1: Uncertainty

***

OUTSIDE MOLLY’S FLAT

Sherlock stood, his gaze fixed on the door in front of him, uncertain whether he should knock, or simply turn and walk away.

Uncertainty was not something Sherlock Holmes, the World’s only consulting detective was used to feeling.

In fact, Sherlock ruefully acknowledged to himself, it was one of a whole array of emotions he wasn’t used to dealing with. But it was one of many that were now bubbling to the surface, finally released with the revelation that he had a sister, and all that she had done...

Eurus, the very thought of her, what she had put him, John and Mycroft through.

And Molly...

The emotions he’d felt during and after the phone call were still very raw. They were what had brought him here, to her flat in the early hours of the morning.

Yet the hand he’d raised intending to knock still remained frozen, hesitant. What would be her response when she saw him? Would she allow him to explain?

What finally had his hand connecting with the door was the knowledge that in truth he couldn’t hide away from this, he owed Molly Hooper a full explanation.

What happened after that was entirely her decision.

*

MOLLY’S FLAT – HALLWAY

Molly had been unable to sleep, the phone call with Sherlock still going round and round her head. One moment tears were pouring down her face, and the next she was so angry all she wanted to do was punch him.

She’d been in the kitchen about to make a cup of hot milk in the vain hope it would help her sleep, when she heard the car pull up outside her flat.

She heard someone exit the car that immediately pulled away. Then she’d listened as familiar footsteps made their way to her front door.

Of course instinctively she’d known who it was even before he’d got out of the car. Who else but Sherlock bloody Holmes would turn up at her flat at two o’clock in the morning?

As she stood in the hallway, dressed in a ratty pair of shorts and t-shirt as Sherlock finally knocked on the door, the only thing she didn’t know was whether she would be strong enough to never let him back into her heart again.

***

Chapter 2: Fear and Concern / Shock and Exhaustion

***

OUTSIDE MOLLY’S FLAT

It felt like forever, but at last Sherlock heard Molly unlock the door.

*

MOLLY’S FLAT

What she expected upon opening the door was for the consulting git to barge in, and give her a quick-fire no-nonsense explanation for the humiliating phone call, before requesting that she completely forget the whole incident so that then they could carry on as they had before, as though nothing had happened.

But as soon as she saw him, all her hurt and anger instantly turned to concern. Sherlock looked shattered, his expression one of sadness, loss and utter devastation. With his shoulders slumped, he looked totally beaten. It broke her heart to see him that way.

When he didn’t immediately move, Molly all but dragged him indoors, before leading him into the living room. Only then did she reluctantly let him go so that she could get a fire started.

Sherlock remained where he stood, his eyes downcast.

Moving back to his side, she managed with some effort to get his belstaff off. Almost immediately Sherlock began to shiver uncontrollably, and Molly realised he was going into shock.

Leading him over to the fire, she settled him into the overstuffed armchair, before grabbing a warm blanket from the closet and wrapping it around him. She then headed to the kitchen to make him a mug of hot chocolate, which she placed into his shaking hands and assisted him in raising it to his lips.

A quick examination revealed injuries to his hands. She grabbed a pair of tweezers that she used to remove several splinters, before rubbing antiseptic cream inter the more nasty looking wounds. But other than that none of the injuries he’d sustained could account for the shock. That left psychological trauma. But what could be so traumatic as to leave him in this state.

And then she thought of Mary, and her blood ran cold as another possibility presented itself.

Taking Sherlock’s face in her hands, she forced his unfocused gaze to meet her fearful one. “What’s happened, Sherlock? Is it John? Rosie?”

The agitation in Molly’s voice worked its way into Sherlock’s numbed sub-conscious. The events of not only the phone call, but all that had happened since he’d learned of the existence of his sister hitting him without warning the moment she’d opened the door. Rousing himself from his stooper, he now focussed on reassuring Molly that all, as far as their friend and goddaughter were concerned, was well.

Mirroring her actions, Sherlock gently held her face in his hands. “They’re fine,” he assured her.

Sighing with relief, Molly felt much of the tension within her ease.

“They’re safe,” Sherlock continued. “As is Mycroft... And you.”

Molly realised in that moment that there was so much more going on here than just the phone call. So much more that she had no knowledge of.

But as she looked at Sherlock, exhaustion finally taking its toll, she knew now wasn’t the time for explanations.

So she hauled him out of the chair and down the hall, thankful years of dealing with cadaver dead weight meant handling a nearly comatose Sherlock wasn’t that difficult at all.

*

Once she’s manoeuvred him into her bedroom, she undressed him and got him into bed.

As soon as she joined him under the covers, Sherlock pulled her to him, her back to his front. With his arms secure around her waist, and his nose buried between her neck and shoulder, he let out a contented sigh as his mind and body finally relaxed.

In the blink of an eye he was sound asleep.

***

Chapter 3: Comfort and Forgiveness

***

MOLLY’S FLAT

Molly was jolted awake. Sherlock was thrashing about and moaning, caught up in the throes of a terrible nightmare.

“Redbeard! Victor!” he called out frantically, and then he began sobbing uncontrollably. “Why Eurus? Why did you do it?”

Desperate to offer him what comfort she could, Molly attempted to reach out to him, but Sherlock would have none of it, battering her hands away.

Shortly thereafter he seemed to calm down enough to settle back to sleep, when, without warning his whole body went rigid, and he started screaming her name.

“Molly! Please Molly! Say it, say it, just say it damn you!” Then the scream turned into a snarl, with his teeth bared he announced triumphantly. “I won Eurus, I won. I saved Molly Hooper.” But the triumph was wiped from his face, and he let out the most deafening roar before appearing to rip something apart with his bare hands.

Molly remembered the slivers of wood she’d removed from those same damaged hands. This wasn’t a bad dream, this was a recent memory.

When she reached for him a second time, Sherlock came willingly. Awake now, he clung to Molly as all the emotions he’d kept so carefully buried rose up once again, threatening to overwhelm him.

With Molly’s cheek resting against his forehead, and her fingers weaving their way through his hair, to gently kneed and stroke his messy curls, Sherlock felt the threat ease, leaving him calm and at peace.

Only then did Molly get up and out of bed. Walking over to her wardrobe she grabbed two dressing gowns. Sherlock’s she placed at the end of the bed before putting on her own.

“I’m just going to get breakfast ready. Why don’t you go have a shower, and then we can talk.”

Sherlock made no response, now lost in his Mind Palace.

Molly left him to his thoughts. Whatever she was about to learn, she wanted to know it on a full stomach.

*

She’d just placed their breakfast on the low table by the sofa when Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, dressed once again in his suit.

Once seated, he looked around him, clearly looking for something. Not finding it he frowned and turned to Molly who’d joined him on the sofa. “Where’s Tobias?”

Molly’s expression instantly triggered another recent, painful memory...

**

“Hello, Sherlock. Is this urgent, because I’m not having a good day?”

**

Why had he not seen it earlier, no ratty old blanket adorning the armchair, no toys for him to trip over, the cat scratching tower missing from where it usually stood. All led to one inescapable conclusion.

Had Eurus known that Molly’s beloved feline had passed away that day?

Of course she had, given the surveillance cameras she’d had installed in the flat for God knows how long.

Sherlock closed his eyes at the realisation of how he’d been used a second time, though unwittingly to cause Molly more unnecessary pain.

“I’m so sorry, Molly. I know how, fond of him you were.”

Molly gave him a small smile in thanks. “It’s all right Sherlock, you weren’t to know. He went peacefully.” Feeling the familiar burn of welling tears she quickly changed the subject. “Let’s have our breakfast before it gets cold.”

Sherlock acquiesced to her suggestion without argument.

But once the breakfast was eaten, the coffee drunk and the dishes washed, they knew they could no longer delay the inevitable.

Sitting back on the sofa, Sherlock turned to Molly. “Where do you want me to begin?’

“Who’s Eurus?”

Sherlock nodded his head in acceptance and approval, Molly was never one for taking the easy way out.

“Eurus is my younger sister,” he began, watching Molly closely.

Clearly surprised, she waited quietly to hear more.

“According to Mycroft her intelligence was described as ‘era defining genius, beyond Newton’. Unfortunately she was also a psychopath, and an extremely dangerous one.”

He told Molly all there was to know: - About her jealousy over his friendship with Victor Trevor. And what she had done to him. - Burning down Musgrave Hall. - Being sent away. - How what his sister had done had traumatised him, and how he had dealt with it. Forgetting his sister existed while turning his childhood best friend into a dog. On and on right up until the events that happened the day before.

“I’m so sorry, Molly,” Sherlock said sadly. “I never meant for you to be in such danger. I’ve always tried to keep you safe, but you continually put yourself in harm’s way, despite my best efforts.”

“Sherlock, you must know by now that I will always be here to help you in any way that I can, the consequences be damned.”

“I know,” he assured her with a smile.

“And,” she continued, taking a deep breath. “If we’re talking apologies, then I need to add my own.”

Sherlock frowned in confusion, “Whatever for?”

“I should never have made you say...what I did,” she replied, her eyes downcast. She felt so deeply ashamed, now that she knew what he’d been put through.

“Molly, look at me.”

Once she had, he continued.

“You have nothing to apologise for. You were just another pawn in Eurus’ game.”

Before Molly could respond, Sherlock’s mobile rang. Upon checking the call ID Sherlock said regretfully. “I’m sorry, I need to take this.”

“Of course.”

Sherlock got to his feet as he finally answered the call. “Hello, Mycroft...”

***

Chapter 4: n. 1. Warm liking or affection. 2. Sexual passion. 3. Loved person. 4. (in games) No score, nil. v. 1. Feel love for. 2. Like greatly.

***

MOLLY’S FLAT

While Sherlock spoke with his brother, Molly went into the kitchen to put the dishes away, to give him some privacy.

When she returned to the sitting room, the phone conversation was clearly nearing its end. “I’ll be there shortly.”

As soon as he’d pocketed his mobile, Sherlock walked over to where Molly had placed his belstaff, and put it on.

Realising that this might be the only opportunity for them to openly discuss the elephant that was still hanging precariously over their heads, Molly walked up to the detective.

Reaching up she turned his coat collar down, before running her hands nervously up and down his lapels. “Sherlock,” she began cautiously.

Sherlock braced himself, knowing full well what was coming. But instead of making a comment based on what he had already deduced he remained silent, waiting patiently for Molly to continue.

At last she looked up at him, meeting his gaze straight on.

“I can’t unsay what I said, Sherlock. I have always loved you, and I probably always will,” she paused a moment, her teeth worrying her lower lip. “Knowing what I feel for you... It won’t destroy our friendship, will it?”

Sherlock responded by enveloping her in a warm embrace, his chin resting comfortably on top of her head, as his arms wrapped themselves around her petite form.

“It’s true that the dynamic of our relationship has been irretrievably altered by that phone call,” he agreed. “But has it destroyed our friendship? No, not even close.” Pulling back so that he could look Molly in the eye, he continued. “You were right. I have always known that you loved me. But as I’d convinced myself that sentiment was a defect, I dismissed it, and your romantic feelings for me as irrelevant,” he paused briefly, continuing again with words chosen with obvious care. “It was only when you forced me to say those words out loud that the one secret I had kept hidden, even from myself, was finally revealed for all to see. As unbelievable as it may seem, it is nonetheless impossibly true, I do love you Molly Hooper.”

His words confirmed what she’d believed when he’d said the words the second time. But when Molly looked into his eyes she saw not only his affection for her mirrored there, but also sorrow and regret.

“One day, maybe, I’ll be able to say those words to you in the full knowledge that I mean them with every beat of my heart. But I don’t believe I’m there yet.”

Molly reached up a hand to gently sooth the frown that marred his brow.

“No, I don’t think you are,” she acknowledged. “And that’s okay. Take all the time you need,” and then with a cheeky grin she added. “When you’re ready, you know where to find me.”

Sherlock felt an immense relief wash over him, thankful he had someone so caring and understanding in his life as Molly Hooper.

But when after a couple of minutes he still hadn’t made a move to leave, Molly felt compelled to remind him.

“Don’t you have to go and see your brother?”

Sherlock’s expression immediately became more serious. “Yes I need to go. Mycroft has arranged a meeting with our parents. There’s a lot to explain.”

“Then you need to get going,” Molly urged. “They’ll need your strength.”

Sherlock leant down to press a chaste kiss upon her lips. “As I will always need yours,” he told her, knowing full well that his pathologist already knew.

Just as he headed out the door, he paused and turned back. “By the way, Mycroft is sending some of his people over to remove all the cameras.” Then with a playful wink, he turned, to stride purposefully towards a new and infinitely more exciting, if unpredictable future.

***

[crankpendletonplays-blog]

Operation Cobra-Jughead Jones

Pairing: Jughead x reader Description: reader is in love with Jughead. Jughead is with Betty. Warnings: SAD SAD SAD ANGST I’m on my way to the hospital to take my mom and I was feeling this after seeing a spoiler from 1x06 sigh THIS HAS 4,274 WORDS AND IT TOOK ME FOUR DAYS CAN YOU BELIEVE —————————

I watched it happen from the very beginning. I noticed the very first time Jughead looked at her differently, the very first time he blushed when she complimented him, the very first time Jughead showed signs of jealousy when Trevor had asked her out. I watched it all unfold from the very beginning. When Jughead told me he and Betty kissed, I did my best to be the extremely supportive best friend, convincing him to show the pretty blonde he was interested in her. When he did, I helped him plan the entire date out, from where to when, to picking his outfit out for him since he was absolutely helpless when it came to dating. I smoothed out the shoulders of his shirt, fixed his beanie, and sent him on his way.

That night, when he came back to my house to replay all the highlights of his date, he had a smile on his face almost the entire time. It was something I had only seen a handful of times, so even though my heart was breaking, I was still happy that something made him smile this big, even if it wasn’t with me. When Jughead and Betty started dating, I began to slowly lose my best friend. He and Betty were always going together on the “super sleuth” cases, and I was hardly ever invited despite being the graphic designer and editor for The Blue and Gold. It didn’t bother me though, because I figured I would just see Jughead at Pop’s. I was wrong.

Jughead and Betty liked their alone time. They hardly ever invited us to hang out with them, and when we did, the rest of us felt like we were intruding. If I did have any alone time with Jug, his nose was in his phone, texting Betty the whole time. As supportive as I tried to be for the both of them, I was tired of pretending. All I ever did was pretend.

I walked in to the blue and gold after school, the room vacant. Jughead had probably waited for Betty outside of her history class so they could walk together to the newsroom; he used to do that with me all the time. I sighed, sitting down at one of the seats in the room and pulling out my laptop. I set it on the desk and began designing the cover for this week’s newspaper.

Eventually, Jughead and Betty showed up, not even noticing I had been in the room. They were chatting about something, both blushing and bumping each other playfully. I mentally rolled my eyes and kept my nose in my laptop, not wanting to watch them be all lovey-dovey or whatever. A minute passed, which turned in to five, and then ten, and then fifteen, and by this time I was beyond upset. Neither had said a word to me at all.

I finished the designs for the paper and quietly closed my laptop, zipping open my bag and stuffing it in before lifting it over my shoulder. I stood up, my chair emitting a sharp noise as the heel of the object scraped against the old tile floor. Jughead and Betty’s heads turned at the sound, watching me push my chair back in.

“Oh my gosh, y/n! When did you come in?” Betty asked. I know she didn’t mean it in a rude way whatsoever, she was one of my best friends, but it angered me. Deciding to keep my anger bottled in, I acted like I didn’t hear her, making my way towards the door of the classroom. I walked out, making my way down the hall.

“Y/n! Wait!” Jughead called my name, and a hand grabbed my shoulder, turning me around.

“What’s wrong?” Jughead inquired, his hand sliding down my arm to go to my wrist. I yanked my body back lightly, looking at him in surprise and disgust.

“What’s wrong?” I repeated, my tone of voice obviously showing signs of outrage at this point. “Jughead, if you don’t know what’s wrong right now, then I guess we aren’t as close as I thought we were.” I turned away from him, walking down the hallway again.

Jughead grabbed my shoulder again, turning me and grabbing my hand. “Don’t say that.” Jughead spoke softly, his jaw clenching.

“Really? Jughead, you did not notice I was in the room for fifteen minutes! You did not become aware of my presence in the slightest! And that isn’t even the first time!” I screamed, shoving him away from me harshly. Jughead stumbled back, frozen in shock by what I had just done.

“You don’t even care about me anymore! I don’t even exist to you!” My fingers dug in to my palms as I yelled at him.

“So yeah, we aren’t as close as I thought we were. In fact, I’ve never been farther apart from you.” I turned, walking away again.

“y/n!" Jughead called my name and I stopped.

"Don’t, Jughead.” I cut him off, turning to face him one more time. “For somebody who claims to be an amazing observer, you sure are pretty damn oblivious.” I walked down the hallway of the empty school, turning a corner and making my way home.

-------------------------------------------------------

It was 5:39 when my phone rang, interrupting me from my moping over Jughead and Betty. I had stayed home from school the past few days, blaming it on how “sick” I had been feeling, which was bullshit, but only I knew it was bullshit. Or so I thought.

“Hey Ronnie.” I answered the phone.” Now’s not a good time- “

“Too fucking bad, princess. Get your ass up, I’m here.” I heard a knock at my door downstairs and Veronica hung up. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around me, rubbing at my nose a bit to make it look red and grabbed a box of tissues. I wadded a couple up and threw them in the trash so my fake sick story would still be believable.

I padded downstairs slowly, hearing the incessant knocking and ringing of my doorbell. I took a deep breath before answering the door. There stood one of my best friends, hands on her hips and an irritated look on her face.

“Alright, time to stop moping and start moving on.” The black-haired girl stepped in to my house, closing the door and pointing upstairs.

“Who said I was moping?” I fired back, dragging myself up the stairs.

“Oh, come on y/n! You may be able to fool Archie, Betty, Jughead, and the rest of the entire world, but you can’t fool me. I know you aren’t sick, I know you and Jughead fought, I know you like Jughead. Its written all over you!” Veronica flung open the door to my room and marched to my closet, digging through it like a wild dog.” It’s kinda sick, actually. You look at him with literal heart eyes.Honestly, I would have gone for somebody a little more chiseled, but hey, we all got our own kinks- “

“Ronnie.” I cut off her incessant rambling, “Why are you knee-deep in my clothes?”

“Because, sweetheart.” Ronnie stuck her head out of my closet.” There’s a party tonight, and Jughead and my future wife are going, and we are going to show those two idiots who they really belong with.” Ronnie went back in to my closet, holding up numerous amounts of dresses, skirts, and eye-catching tops.

“Jughead is going to a party?” I queried, unconvinced.

“Yeah, it’s a thing with the cheerleaders at Cheryl’s, an Jughead is going to be the ‘supportive boyfriend’ or whatever.” Veronica scoffed at her own words, adding mocking quotations with her fingers before going back to digging in my closet.

“They’re probably going for more clues about Jason.” I mumbled, my mind drifting away a bit.

“For someone who only wears like, 4 outfits, you sure do have a lot of clothes.” Ronnie commented, pulling out a dress and examining it before hanging it back up.

“My mom tries.” I sighed, flopping back down on the bed.

“Oh, no you don’t. Get your happy ass up and get in the shower. You look terrible, which is weird for me, because you usually look incredibly fuckable.”

“Wow, thanks Ronnie.” I spat back, sarcasm laced in my tone. I got up and grabbed a towel from my drawer, walking in to my bathroom and taking a quick shower. I shaved my legs, as demanded instructed by my friend, and Ronnie did my makeup and hair, curling it and putting it up in a pretty half-do. I admired Ronnie’s work, hardly even being able to connect this me with the person that sat in my bed this morning, dark circles under her eyes and her hair in a knotty bun. She had also found a long sleeved black dress that came down to my knees, tucked away in my closet somewhere

Ronnie had brought over a dress for herself to change in to, and slipped on her shoes. She looked up and our eyes met in the mirror, a distressed look on my face.

“Listen, tonight is for us, okay?” Ronnie rested her hand on my shoulders, turning my chair so I faced her.” I’ve been sitting around and moping too, trust me, but we shouldn’t mope. We deserve so much better, alright? So, let’s just go out and have fun. We deserve that much, alright?” Ronnie held out her hand and I took it, pulling myself up and letting my arms go around her neck to embrace her. We both grabbed our purses and linked arms before walking down the stairs of my house and out my door. -------------------------------------------------------- “Ronnie, I don’t think I can do this.” I stood at the front door of the house, my heart racing.” I really can’t do this.” I turned away from the building, wringing my hands out in front of me.” I’ve been doing it for so long, and I don’t think I can pretend any more, and- “

“Y/n!” Ronnie grabbed my hands, holing them in between hers.” You can do this, ok? You’re y/n freaking l/n!! You are one of the strongest women I know, and you are fierce! You can’t let Jughead, or Betty, or anyone get to you! Don’t let them ruin your moment, ok? Because you are looking hot as hell- “Ronnie lifted one of my hands, twirling me in front of her, and I giggled- “And I’ll be damned if I let you let them mess with that.” I hugged Ronnie tightly before she linked my arm with hers and we walked in to the Blossom mansion.

The music wasn’t too loud, which was a kind gesture for my sensitive ears. Cheryl had already roped together some kids for a game of spin the bottle, and I had spotted Archie, Betty, and Jughead near a corner of the room. Ronnie had already gotten me away from the sight, pulling me to the kitchen. I only grabbed a bottle of sweet tea, ignoring the alcohol that lined the counter. Veronica did as well, unsurprisingly. Veronica was a very old-school classy person. If she did drink, it was usually only one glass, and something very light, as I had found out one night that I had slept over at her house.

“There’s my girls!” Kevin wrapped each arm around Veronica and I’s shoulders. “Operation ‘avoid Jughead and Betty because they’re little whores who have been ignoring us to suck each other’s faces’ has commenced!” I laughed at Kevin, giving him a weird look for the name he had chosen.

“Lets just call it Operation Cobra, you know, for short.” Veronica suggested.The three of us made our way to the middle of the dance floor ignoring our other friends. It was obvious Veronica was laughing and talking at a bit of a higher volume, as well as being extra touchy and flirty to get the attention of our friends. I didn’t so much as glance at Jughead, because I knew that once I did, it was game over, and I would be running home and hiding under my covers. After a little while, I went to find a quiet place in the house, wanting to be alone. Parties weren’t really my thing, so I didn’t understand why I even agreed to go, but to be fair I was having a nice time

I sat on Cheryl’s back porch, my legs swinging off the edge as I looked out at her backyard. The graveyard with all her relatives didn’t really help boost my happiness, but at least I had gotten away from the incessant bass drops the music was giving off.

“Thought you were sick.” I turned my head to see Jughead leaning against the wall, legs and arms both crossed. My heart started beating wildly and I felt a lump in my throat.

“Thought you didn’t like parties.” I retorted, turning my head back around to face away from him.

“Touché.” I felt Jughead’s presence as he sat down next to me, our thighs brushing together. For a couple minutes, I didn’t say anything, scared that if I did I would burst in to tears.

“You look really, uh, nice tonight.” Jughead looked me up and down and I raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, not that you don’t look nice all the time, because you do.” Jughead scratched the back of his neck.” Because you know, you’re really beautiful, but you already know that I think that, because you know, you’re my best friend, and uh… yeah.” Jughead looked away

“You know, I’m not a mind reader.” Jughead chuckled lightly. I could see him staring at me out of the corner of my eye. I did my best to ignore him, crossing my arms and keeping my gaze away from his.

“Look- “Jughead gulped audibly, hesitating before lifting his hand and resting it on my shoulder.” I don’t know what’s going through your head right now, or what you’re dealing with, but I’m here for you- “

“Really? Are you really “here for me?” I shrugged his hand off my shoulder, moving to stand up. I was furious at this point.” Jughead, I have talked to you maybe a handful of times since you and Betty started dating! You have cancelled every single one of our plans since then! Every time we’re together working on the blue and gold, you and Betty hardly even notice I’m in the room! – “

My hands went to my temples as I slowly paced back and forth on the deck of the porch. Jughead now stood in front of me, one hand shoved in the pocket of his jeans and the other running his hand down his face in a frustrated motion.

“And maybe I wouldn’t have been so angry about it, if you would have at least showed any sort of remorse, but you don’t! You don’t apologize, you don’t even text me in advance to let me know, you keep me sitting at Pop’s for hours, and you never even show up! I don’t even know why I still do it? What’s the point?” I began to walk past him but jughead held his arm out, stopping me from leaving. His hand grabbed my hip, turning me to face him.

“I’m sorry, y/n, I really am- “

“No you aren’t, Jughead! You aren’t sorry!” I pushed him away from me.” You aren’t sorry! If you were really ‘sorry’, you would have been there for me! You wouldn’t have skipped out on our plans! You wouldn’t have left me waiting all the time! Or you would have at least texted me to tell me you wouldn’t make it! Or even apologize!” I shoved my index finger against his chest, pushing him away from me once more.” But you don’t! You don’t apologize, or even feel any remorse about it, because all you care about is yourself! You don’t care about the consequences of the choices you make, because it doesn’t hurt you!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face as I ended my rant. Jughead had a shocked face on his look, as if he was surprised that I had just stood up for myself. I couldn’t blame him. All I ever did was let people use me as their personal door mat. I didn’t want to be that person anymore.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I do care about you, it’s just, I- “

“Save it, Jughead!” I shoved past him, running back in to the house and out the front door. I heard calls from my best friend and turned around to see Veronica and Kevin.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Veronica stood in front of me, blocking me from walking down the path towards the gate to leave Cheryl’s home. Her hands wrapped around my arms, stopping me from moving.” What’s wrong, what happened?”

“What do you think happened, Ronnie?” I spoke loudly, my hands moving wildly in front of me.” Jughead is an idiot! That’s what happened!” Kevin now stood beside Ronnie, and her hands went to my face, wiping away the tears. “I’m in love with a fucking idiot! That’s what happened!”

“I know sweetheart, I know.” Veronica hugged me tightly.

“He doesn’t care, Ronnie. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that he hurt me, or anything. It doesn’t matter.” I moved to look at her again.” Why do I have to be in love with him? It could have been anybody else! Why him?”

“I don’t know, honey, he’s a jerk, I don’t know why he- “Ronnie cut herself off, staring off behind me. I turned around to see Jughead standing ten feet away, arms at his sides and his lips parted slightly.

“Did you say you’re in love with me?” Jughead looked at me with wide eyes, waiting for an answer. I shook my head, diving between Ronnie and Kevin and running towards the gate. Jughead began to follow me, but Kevin and Ronnie held him back, letting me slip away. -------------------------------------------------- I was halfway down the trek to my house when I passed by the Riverdale park. I sighed, steering off the sidewalk and towards the big dome-shaped jungle gym. I was just going to mope at home anyways, so I wasn’t in a hurry to get there.

I dropped my heels to the ground next to me, swinging my purse over my shoulder and climbing up to the top. I sat down in the middle, the solid platform cold against my skin. I didn’t care though. I pulled out my phone, ignoring any notifications I had. I checked Instagram, scrolling through Jughead’s account. I switched over to Betty’s, seeing multiple photos of her and Jughead. I didn’t exactly know why I was forcing myself to look at these, but I was.

I shut my phone off, wrapping my arms around my body. I hadn’t brought a jacket, another thing to beat myself up over. I looked around the park, my eyes eventually catching someone else’s. Jughead.

“What are you doing up there?” Jughead looked up at me, his hands in his pockets.

“I like it up here.” I defended.

“Can you come down?” Jughead asked me.

“No.” I protested.

“Then I’m coming up.” Jughead sighed, beginning to climb the structure. I scrambled to grab my purse, trying to get off as fast as I could, but it was too late. Jughead had climbed up, grabbing the bars on each side of my body and hovering so my lower body was trapped under his. He looked up at me, his chest heaving from climbing up as fast as he could, mixed with the sting of the cold weather. Our breaths could be seen in the winter air, mixing with each other and disappearing. I stared at Jughead, waiting for him to say something.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh yeah, hold on. Let me ruin my closest friendship real quick by telling him I have super hardcore feelings for him when he’s dating someone else!” I spat sarcastically.

“Ok, that’s fair.”

“Whatever, Jughead, just let me out.” I started to shuffle under his body, planning to duck under his arm, but he blocked me, climbing farther up. We were now eye level, his face only inches from mine. Jughead stared at me, not saying anything.

“Are you gonna say something?” I asked him, my eyes flickering between his.

“I don’t know what to say.” Jughead admitted. I rolled my eyes, pushing him so I could get out from under him. Apparently, I had pushed too hard, because next thing I knew, the boy lost his balance, stumbling off the bars and falling in to the grass on his back. I gasped, shouting his name before climbing down quickly and jumping off the last few bars.

“Jughead! Are you ok!” Jughead groaned in response, sitting up and rubbing his head. I dropped on to my knees beside him, my shoulders on his hands.

“Peachy.” He answered sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, standing up and brushing the dirt off my dress.

“Whatever, I’m going home- “

“Did you know Veronica liked Betty?” I spun around, looking at Jughead.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Jughead sighed, standing up. “And Veronica told her. Turns out, a big part of the reason Betty was dating me was to try and get over her, and convince herself she wasn’t gay. When Ronnie told her, she broke it off with me.” Jughead chuckled half-heartedly.

“Jug, I’m sorry.” Sympathy was laced in my voice. I stepped back toward him, patting his shoulder with my hand.

“It’s ok, really. I was dating her for kind of the same reason as well.” Jughead looked up at me, his eyes locking with mine.” You see, there’s this girl that I really like, and she’s been my best friend for quite a while.” My breath hitched in my throat, my hand leaving Jughead’s shoulder.” I’ve been kind of a shit friend to her, and I haven’t really been hanging out with her, more like avoiding her. It’s a really shitty thing to do, and I feel, like, really, really shitty about it.”

“Jughead, I, I can’t...” I turned back towards the dome jungle gym, walking towards my shoes. I felt Jughead’s hand on my shoulder and then my back was against the monkey bars, my body trapped by Jughead’s.

“I didn’t want to lose you.” Jughead admitted.” You’re everything to me, and I don’t know what I would do without you in my life. When I started dating Betty, I thought it would help me get over you, and then I could stop feeling the way I felt.” Jughead looked me in the eyes, his face no more than a few inches away from mine once again.” I watched what happened to my parents, and yours. They were just like us. They were best friends, and…” Jughead hung his head, cutting off his own words.

“Jughead.” I reached my hands up to cup his face, lifting his head to look at me.” We aren’t our parents, ok?” My thumb brushed against his cheek, wiping away the tear that had fallen down his face. Jughead smiled, his eyes flickering down to my lips, and mine doing the same.

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you too.” I laughed lightly, my arms wrapping around his neck. Jughead’s arms went to my waist, pulling me flush in to his body before he pressed his lips to mine. I sighed in to the kiss, feeling relief that Jughead felt the same way about me as I did him.

Jughead bit gently at my bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth as he broke the kiss. I giggled, burying my face in to the crook of Jughead’s neck. ----------------------------------------------------- “I see my work did some justice.” I heard Ronnie call out. Jughead and I turned around on the sidewalk we had been on to see our friends.

“We have been looking everywhere for you guys! Where were you!” Archie called out, jogging towards us.

“Oh, you know, climbing jungle gyms, pushing Jughead off them, the usual.” I joked, looking up at Jughead. He smiled, rolling his eyes. Ronnie and Betty walked up to us, hands held together.

“Hey, nothings gonna be… awkward, right?” Betty asked, looking at Jughead and I.

“No, Betts, everything’s good.” Jughead looked down at me, squeezing my hand.

“Ok, good.” Betty rested her hand on Jughead’s shoulder giving it a friendly squeeze before dropping it.

“Wait, so, you two?” Archie asked, looking at Ronnie and Betty, who nodded.

“And you two?” Archie looked at Jughead and I. Jughead nodded and I blushed, hiding in his side. Jughead wrapped an arm around my waist, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Honestly, I’m not surprised.” Kevin shrugged, walking towards us.

“Hey, we’re all heading to Pop’s, you coming?” Archie asked Jug and I.

“Archibald Andrews, do you ever think I would turn down a burger and fries from our ever so famous chock-lit shoppe?” I put a hand over my chest in mock offense.

“Of course you and Jughead are together, why was I even surprised.” Archie rolled his eyes, walking away from us.

“That obvious, huh?” Jughead spoke aloud, looking down at me.

“Yep.”

[cooperroose]

♥: a valentine’s day headcanon: being a catcher means coop’s gotta be down there earlier than everyone else for spring training, so he’s in full phillies mode. during the season he’s so focused on baseball that it’s hard for him to pull together a romantic plan for the two of them. he pulled it off last year, but it was the first time in a long time they got to do something together. and it was also the last time before their break up they truly felt like themselves, at least in ginnys mind. she’s taking their relationship more seriously now, they’re engaged after all, and she’s not going to expect him to worry about putting something together. he probably apologizes a million times and thanks her for being so understanding, and he says he’ll have a break a few days after the holiday so he’ll try and make it up to her then. gin’s gonna surprise him instead though, fly down to see him practicing and doing his thing, then take him back to the hotel and just cook something for him, because she knows he’d want that over a night out. sappy sappy. ♣: an april fool’s day headcanon: they don’t pull huge pranks on each other, it’s always little fun things that aren’t too big of a deal. ginny probably tries so hard to come up with stuff to try and get him with, but he always knows and she haaates it. it’s because she’s a bad liar and she gets too giggly and even if she’s trying so hard to hide it anyone else would fall for it, he knows that smile and can tell something’s coming. it takes a couple years, but after awhile he’s gonna let her think she pulled one over on him just because she’s adorable when she thinks she has. ✞: an easter headcanon: they’re very cute for easter, church clothes and pastels and family family family. they’ll treat easter just like the other big holidays and trade off, one in iowa, one in tennesse until they have the kids and want to start traditions of their own. once they do have the opportunity for that, i think they’ll stay in their home in philly. they still go to back home with the twins for thanksgiving and christmas, but they decided to make this holiday all their own. ava loooves easter, she like the easter bunny even more than she likes santa (because bunnies are cute), and all the pretty colors that come with it. kepler likes hunting down the eggs and finding more than ava does, especially if they’re ones with money. (it’s like a dollar in each one, and there’s not even that many of those, but for kids it’s exciting.) once noah’s old enough to join in on the fun too, he’s all about the candy. it probably takes him weeks to get through his stash, because he can’t stand to part with his chocolate bunnies yet. a bite a day, that’s it. ✿: a mother’s/father’s day headcanon: ginny’s first mothers day after caroline passes is extra brutal. it’s probably been a good amount of time, but not long enough for her not to be crushed. caroline hung on for christmas, even when the doctors didn’t think she would, but didn’t make it to the new year. by the time may comes along, she’s had time to grieve and get back to normal, and then it hits her again like a ton of bricks. she’s probably pregnant too, which makes matters that much worse. she’ll tear up in the bedroom with coop, holding his hand, and tell him that caroline knew she’d have another boy, she could feel it. and now that’s she’s pregnant again and they just found out the sex, she hates that she can’t call her up and tell her she was right. the kids will pick up on it, they’re ready to run in the room and surprise her with gifts, but when they do they see gin wiping her eyes and trying to clear her throat. She’ll tell them how much she loves them, and that she’s just missing her mom today, and she wishes she could run in her room and hug her too. They decide to have Caroline’s favorites that day, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Big meals, lots of sides, just the way she would’ve liked it to be. ★: a fourth of july headcanon: one year they make a MISTAKE and decide they should have a big blowout at their house in iowa. gin flies her friends in, steven and britt and their kids, andrea, freddie, and theirs and it’s nuuuuts. there’s a lot of kids running around. from britt’s oldest to baby noah and it’s insanity. dylan and ian come too, of course. and addison knows what’s good for her so she avoids it. dylans gonna be out in the backyard, showing all the kids the fireworks he scored, and that’s when the regret sets in. before this the twins were happy just playing with their sparklers, but now he’s got them interested in all this other shit and gin is NERVOUS. britt and andrea are calm, as usual, because their kids are older and they used to get into bottle rockets and stuff like that when they were young too. there are a lot of adults around. the kids will be fine. they say this before dylan hands all the little ones those little popper ones you can throw at the ground, and all the little boys do it at their feet and have them hopping around. coops grilling hot dogs and hamburgers, he’s got some ribs going on there too it’s a good time. until elijah, who’s like eleven, makes the mistake of going to check out why the firework he set didn’t go off. he does that stupid thing they tell you not to do and tries to pick one up, and that’s when it decides to go off. it’s a small one, so it didn’t blow his hand off or anything. but it was big enough to burn the shit out of it and land them all in the local hospital for the rest of the holiday. ☠: a halloween headcanon: kepler gets himself into trouuuuble one year. you know how teenagers like to get into shit during halloween and the day before, kepler plays himself. he’s probably like 13, so noah is still young enough to be into trick or treating, he’s nine or so, and ready to run around as chef boyardee. but the twins want to go out with their friends cause all the other kids get to, they’re not into trick or treating anymore~ coop and gin are fine with that, it was only a matter of time. so gin goes out with noah, and coop takes the twins to their friends houses. ava just wants to have a slumber party with hers, watch scary movies in someones basement and stay up late. she’s being good. but kepler’s started to hanging out with some rowdy boys, that don’t do enough to get into trouble usually, but gin is still keeping a watchful eye. they put their feet on the furniture when theyre over and they try to call coop by his first name, so they’re not fans. kepler insists he wants to ride his bike, and there’s nothing to worry about, he’s just going down the street and that’s all. dad doesn’t have to drive. coop lets him, and regrets it later. because of course teenage boys want to ride around and egg peoples houses. kepler tries to tell them they should use pumpkin guts instead, to keep with the halloween theme, bc he’s ginny’s son. and they’re like...so here’s the eggs. they get caught bc kids are dumb, probably at like the first house too. they’re loud and laughing and PEOPLE ARE TRICK OR TREATING, so them trying to ride off and pick a house with ‘jerks who dont give out free candy’ is a bad idea when someone can walk by at any minute. the cops get called, and ten minutes later there’s one knocking on coops door with kepler in front of him. needless to say it wasn’t a good holiday season for kepler that year. ✈: a thanksgiving headcanon: ginny’s really pumped because she wants to host thanksgiving this year, her first year. in her home with her husband, and their adorable pair of toddlers, and she’s just ready for life. they’re supposed to go to the riley’s this year, so ginny makes sure to talk to mama riley about wanting to host and making sure that’s okay with her, and of course she’s happy to let gin take the reigns, as long as they’re invited of course. ginny’s like !!!! on the top of the world. but everything starts to go wrong the closer it gets to the date. caroline’s feeling really sick lately, so her and wiley decide it’s best if they just stay in tn and don’t try to make the trip out. ginny’s sad, but she understands. coop’s dad is stuck having to work. so she’s like, o...kay, 1 out of 4 parents, that’s okay. she’s taking it in stride it’s fine. kepler chose now to take one of her pans and a pot to try and mold play doh in or some destructive kid shit and she’s like ???? seriously SERIOUSLY. it’s okay. we can buy more pans, coopey bear go get more pans. so he does. peyton will call and tell coop she’s decided to have a holiday in paree~ with her fuckass bf named francois or something annoying and coop wants to kick his ass in general so he definitely wants to now. and it wouldn’t have been so much of a loss, if it wasn’t the year addison trevor and zach were going to celebrate at trev’s family’s house. gins like highkey losing her mind, everyone’s cancelling it’s because it’s her dinner this would never happen to his mom and she’s just not having life. and coop’s like that’s kinda true, but duh he keeps that to himself. gin’s gonna cry if her first thanksgiving is just mama riley goop the twins and bb mel so he’s like gotta call in some back up guests lmao trash. he doesnt call down to tn bc they have their own fam shit, so he’ll call johnny and his girl he’s been dating for like 9 years and still isnt married to. lexi?? i think maybe i didn’t name her but that’s whats on my list so. and asks them what they’re doing for thanksgiving, they were just gonna eat chinese food like they usually do but he’s like yeah no come to iowa. gin and lexi are probs good friends by now, watching their boys play and going to all the wife stuff together. then he calls greggemiah and gregg answers singing kokomo bc theyre set to go on a cruise~ and coops like yeah thats not for a couple days after thanksgiving right. and they’re like yes but we’re packing and we have to do this and this and he’ll cut them off and be like you’re coming to iowa, they’re like ...ew, but ok. coops his charming convincing self and gregg still has his little crush so he can’t say no. jeremiah is like, i’d kill you if he wasn’t so dreamy. i’d say yes too. super long story short, coop gets ian and his preg wife to come too. and they have a cute half family/half friends holiday and ginny is satisfied and proud of herself for pulling it off. but she also dropped a pie during the day BUT THEY SURVIVED. ❅: a christmas headcanon: i’ll say this is christmas after that hell of a thanksgiving, caroline still isn’t doing so hot and even though it was supposed to be their turn for christmas wiley tells ginny her, coop, and the kids should stay up in iowa again. caroline’s not ready for people to see her, she’s probably losing her hair and stuff it’s not a good time for her. gin’s like :( give her my love all that cute stuff. she wants to be there, but she knows if she were in that position she wouldn’t want a lot of people seeing her either. they still send gifts down and wiley tells her to bring the kids down next month and they’ll have their own little holiday. mama riley is ECSTATIC cause she was lowkey sad about not getting to host her thanksgiving, but gin let her help a lot so she was content. she’s also happy to have all the kids in their matching jammies. peytons bitchass thought she was gonna have some dumbass french holiday for christmas too but that got shut down real quick, all her kids are gonna be there. trevor and gin included. francois is on the family shit list, papa riley and coop glare at him the whole time he’s there. and he says weird french shit and kisses all the girls on their cheeks and they’re too ALL AMERICAN JOHN MELLENCAMP for this shit. bby mel shows up with her “best friend” and “roommate” natalie, because mama riley was so cool with greggemiah she thought this would be a good time for the fam to meet her “best friend” and “roommate” natalie. guess what. it’s not. parents are oblivious so they won’t think anything of it, but it’ll be like christmas eve festivities when they’re all like omg and they’ll have a sibling meeting. they’ll all be on their annoying caroling escapade when the four of them will go off, and they’ll drag trevor and gin with them. addison will be like, francois can’t be apart of this, you’re not married. and coop will be like, plus we hate that guy. peytons like ugh, but she’ll be like. at least i’m not the one with the worst significant other anymore. mel’s gonna give dad a heart attack. gins like omg, trevs like omg, coops like dont listen to her dad isn’t gonna have a heart attack. addison will go, yeah i think it’ll be mom. and mel has like horror in her eyes lmao. addison will be like, it’s a joke i’m kidding. they’ll be fine, it’s not like it’s a shock. trev and gin are shoked, peytons shocked, mostly its just coop and addison that aren’t. coop’s like i found out like seven years ago so, i just didnt say anything. addisons like and it wasn’t like you were hiding it well mel. mel is dying inside, she was like abort mission the second she invited her gal pal but she was in too deep by that time. she’s like. i messed up, this was a mistake, they’re gonna hate me omg, i’m surprised YOU GUYS DONT HATE ME. like she flips out. and addison and coop try to chill her out but shes like YOU GUYS CANT TALK WITH YOUR STUPID COOKIE CUTTER SPOUSES and gin and trev are both like aw but also hey! mel will say something about how dad doesnt even like francois bc hes FRENCH. and coops like, at least nat’s from here. isn’t she from north dakota. and addison will be like, i didnt even think they let you be gay in north dakota. and coops like, that’s probably why she moved to chicago. and mels like OH MY GOD SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UUUUUPPP. fix it, do something. distract them, ginny tell them you’re pregnant again. PEY TELL THEM YOU’RE ENGAGED. someone do something i’m gonna die. it’s probably snowing, they left the two significant others least in the fam with their parents and the kids singing at some strangers house. classic family hijinks. i talked too much about this ☄:  a new years eve/day headcanon: by the time goop has all three kids, they’re lucky if they can make it to midnight on new years eve, honestly. when they’re babies theres not a chance, goop passes out at ten and the kids wake them up 3 hours later. that’s when they get to celebrate. but when the twins are like 7 and noahs 3 they’ve got this. they all get together on the couch and they’ll watch movies and play board games, and ring in the new year the way they intend to spend the rest of it. they’ve got old dog cubby with them, curled in a ball on his bed, noahs playing with some blocks and stuff, like the big block legos, and the twins and gin and coop are playing their game together. gin has noah right next to her, and he goes mommy looook, every so often. but that’s not gonna help anyone beat her in clue. kepler claims mommy cheats because she always wins so they want to play TROUBLE and SORRY so they can get her back. they’re so excited to stay up late, but they’re still too little to make it to see the ball drop. no matter how many sugary foods gin and coop let them have this ooone time. so they’ll knock out on the couch, and noah’s probs in gins lap by now, knocked out too. coop and gin will get emotional and sappy about how perfect their life is, and how it’s just like they always dreamed. if they could go back in time they wouldn’t change a thing. theyre both sitting on the floor with like their backs against the couch, gin has her head resting on coops shoulder “resting her eyes” because shes a little sleepy herself. she’ll doze off because its gin and shes even worse about falling asleep once shes running around as a full time mom. coop will stay up, smiling at his perfect family, and pet cubbys head. the ONLY ONE to be up with him. gin will be out for like 25 minutes or so, not too long, and he’ll nudge her awake so they can wake up the kids because the balls gonna drop and they want them to get to see it. they have the little party horns you blow into, and noisemakers, and theyre def all wearing those cheesy fake plastic top hats and glasses with the year number on it. and once it strikes twelve the kids are gonna be jumping up and down throwing streamers in the air celebrating as if they werent knocked out five minutes before. then it’s real bed time, gin will carry up noah and coop will carry up the twins and they’ll all be sleepy again the second theyre down in the bed. cutie babies.

[jennawynn]

Critical Hit Chapters 8-16

Lacey asks James to lunch the next day... to ask about Peter. Turns out James had mentioned her, Peter thought he had a chance, so he was on the hunt. James agrees to talk to Peter... and then becomes him? lol How did nobody notice that James’s name changed to Peter halfway through the chapter?

James’s reasoning for picking Kris over Peter seems to be because she needs to get laid more? ....which again my ace-ish ass does not understand.

He says she hasn’t been laid in a while, she says she hasn’t dated since high school, so what? Ten years makes you grouchier than 10 weeks? Huh?

For being such great ‘friends’ her these guys don’t seem to really know Kris very well.

Oop. “not straight” joke... lol

So Lacey had Kris and Peter help make her a sorcerer- a sorcerer inspired by Kris’s art- and then went home and changed her to a druid? Is it because her sorcerer was too close to her and she didn’t want the backstory to remind her of Jenny when she’s playing a game with Kris? It would kinda feel like cheating in a way. Holding onto a past while trying to move forward.

But of course Kris is hurt by it. 

Ugh. Peter needs a clue-bat. You really don’t need to include “constant reminders that his deity did not require celibacy of their followers”. 

Wait... now who’s Trevor? Did James’s name change like 4 times during rewrites? *scrolls back* Ok, James, Trevor, and Peter were in the first on-screen game. Huh. Ok. So Trevor’s the odd man out of the story, just there because it’s hard to run a game for two guys.

Lacey’s fitting in better than any newcomer to the game I’ve ever seen, but Peter is stillllll being an obnoxious flirt and now Kris is getting upset. James says he’s got it and when Kris takes Lacey out of the room to “check on Barkley” and Peter invites himself along, James pulls him aside instead.

“I’ve got too much shit going on with my dad to be dating a girl who’s unsure of where she lands on the Kinsey scale. I don’t have the energy or patience for Lacey to experiment with me.” YOU FUCKING... I’ll give you a hint... she lies somewhere on the 1-5 part of the Kinsey scale because THAT’S WHAT THE KINSEY SCALE IS FOR. In fact, she probably sits around a 5 because I did read ahead last night. Also, ARGH.

“James’s face shifted from apologetic to annoyed. “Now you’re just trying to talk yourself out of the girl. Don’t be stupid. Bisexuals are a thing, Kris. It means it isn’t an experiment, it’s how she feels. She likes innies and outies.” Sigh, if it’s not one thing it’s another. YES, finally someone calls her out on this biphobic bullshit... but on the other hand, nice cissexism there, James. You know girls can have innies or outies, yes? That being bisexual isn’t about what parts you do or don’t like but the person? 

“On a superficial level, Kris knew James was right about bisexuals. She wasn’t trying to be a judgy bitch (failing!), it’s just that, well, in her experience “bi” tended to be codeword for “bored.” She had been a toy to alleviate the boredom until a new shiny penis came along.” Fucking hell.

So anyway Kris grabs her, drags her upstairs, and they fuck in the hallway while the guys are waiting for them. Because that’s a thing people do, I guess.

Something about this sex scene feels OOC, but I’m not sure there’s really been enough character development to say that. I hadn’t expected Lacey to be so forward and aggressive (and clearly neither had Kris). 

“Kris is like, Asexual or something and you’re way too hot for her.” “Kris is gorgeous and a lesbian! Certainly you could see her dating me?” “Nope. Kris has always just been Kris. You’re pulling my leg. You’ve been cuddling Barkley.” “I’m glad you think so highly of me, Trevor,” Kris grumbled... So like... asexuality is something bad too now? So basically when she says she’s part of the LGBTQ community what she means is the L and G.

Peter returns and appears to give Kris the go-ahead. Which is good cause she was definitely going ahead anyway with Lacey’s hand in her pants.

Jenny was a bitch.

Kris has been lying to the guys about her dad’s cancer. She didn’t tell them it’s terminal, but she tells Lacey.

This discussion about the emotional rollercoaster of caring for a terminal family member and feeling guilty about being a little disappointed when they get better for a while is A+. “It’s so hard not to be resentful sometimes, and then the guilt comes crashing in because who gets angry that their parent isn’t dead yet?”

“Deep, husky laughter” well that’s better than both of them having a clear bell-like giggle.

All this talk about dead mom dying dad and Lacey hasn’t shared anything about her family yet.

I can’t believe I had to read the words “dusty pussy”...

Time skip! So domestic already. Get the U-Haul ready. 

They are playing 5e... and for some reason Lacey multi-classed her druid with a fighter? Because that’s wholly necessary? (This is confusing.)

The D&D game switches back and forth between player names and character names and if you don’t already have who is which memorized, it’s a little confusing... but at the same time, it doesn’t really matter as long as you remember the only girl (Lacey) is playing the only girl (Astrid) and is kicking everyone’s ass at problem solving and role-playing. 

“Draw me like one of your French girls” can’t have an artist character without a naked sketch at some point.

The sex scenes so far have been... somewhere between a fade to black and explicit smut. There’s mention of tongues in slick folds or fingers in damp curls and all the other fun fanfic phrases, but it avoids being out of place stylistically. The way this author writes isn’t overly-flowery or expressive, it’s more the way I write- who did what and what did they say- so having the sex be just as perfunctory works with the style of the story. It’s not the sort of sex scenes people read to get off to which fits the story too- it’s not erotica. It’s a story about these two women who happen to have sex (a lot).

Oop. U-Haul joke.

“Of course I called you. You’re my best friend.” So soon? But then again, the guys were her only friends, her only social life, and they didn’t really seem that close. She didn’t share things as much. But she’s been going on and on for like... 11 chapters now? about how PETER was her best friend, not least because their moms died in a car crash together and it cemented their bond. 

Who ends sex with “Sorry about your dad”?? 

Dad’s coughing, Barkley’s licking his face. Kris is terrified and pushes the little dog off the bed. Lacey is upset. The end. Oh wait. Nope. Dad goes to the hospital. He has pneumonia. Lacey accidentally brings up the dog throwing. They start to fight, then stop and say ‘later’ and Lacey marvels at how grown-up their fight is? These women are like 30? Why is everything about how grown-up everything is? And why does every emotion end in sex? Is this a thing? I’m happy! Sex. I’m sad because my dad’s dying. Sex. My dad’s in the hospital and we got mad at each other! Sex in scrubs in the hospital storage closet because it’s my macabre joke about Make-A-Wish. What?