#i also have���something else cooking

[redeyeyuna]

WHEN THE CAMS ARE OFF

So, Nandor and Guillermo are canonically doing some things when when they're not being filmed. With knowing this, I wanted to recap a few things from the season.

This post will mainly focus on how Nandor in particular handled himself subliminally towards the camera in certain situations. Also, that Guillermo faked to leave the vampires in E11 just for the documentary got me thinking which other things could be made up too. Giving a false view of facts just to make the audience think otherwise or to distract them from something specific... This specific thing they wanted to keep private, and didn't want it to be anyone else's business. Cause they wanted to solve and figure it out for themselves without having it exploited to the full in front of the camera. And this is the relationship development (secret affair) between Nandor and Guillermo that ran its course and has been cooked in the background during the sixth season.

[Sorry in advance for grammar mistakes and typos. English is not my first language]

The first hint is alreay in the first episode!

Nandor necessarily has to emphasize that he hasn’t seen Guillermo since he left, and Guillermo immediately throws in that he is telling the truth. But Nadja seems already to know what’s going on between these two idiots.

Also, Nandor trying to help Guillermo by searching for a flat and then suggest him to move into the VERY NEAR garden shed… A practical temporary solution if you don't want to be disturbed by the other housemates. I can well imagine that Nandor already thought of a better place for the two of them at this time. *Caugh* Secret underground lair *Caugh*

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

What about Nandor having a crush on the Guide?

... did he really ever have that, though?😏 What if Nandor’s crush on the Guide was made up by himself just for the documentary to distract the crew/viewers from himself and Guillermo, so that they don't keep following them to catch some shots? Yes, I know Nandor’s sudden crush on the Guide was at first caused by the sleep hypnosis… But for Nadja, the hypnosis seemed like a dream… Perhaps Nandor also thought he had dreamt that he suddenly had a crush on the Guide (or maybe Guillermo just told him) and Nandor was like: “You know what? That’s perfect! I use this to distract the doc crew and viewers from me and Guillermo!”

Nandor had one or more love interest in almost every season that he had a crush on. Why should it be any different now?

Due to this the film crew weren’t focussed on following them and wouldn’t wondering if Nandor could actually have something going on with Guillermo. Nandor’s crush on the Guide in general seemed very odd and just pretended for the camera/viewers. Over time, it seemed to appear more and more obviously and artificially.

In E4 "The Railroad" before Nandor said goodbye to the Guide, he looked suspiciously over his shoulder before making his flirtatious move towards her. It seemed as if he was aiming at it. Shouldn't he have been eyeing up his crush instead of making sure he was filmed flirting?

In E7 "March Mandess" Nandor looked very obviously into the camera during the scene used for the flashback, while Nandor is talking to Charmaine about the guide.

I also wonder why it was so important to Nandor that Charmaine would keep the thing of him and the guide to herself. Cause it’s made up and he just mentioned that he would has a crush on someone so that the film crew could add flashback? Generally, threatening to kill her in her sleep just because of that felt a bit too excessive, doesn’t it?

When the Guide finally rejects him perfectly in E9 “Come Out and Play” (you go, Girl!), Nandor seemed to fully ignore her destruction she has thrown at him.

He purposely ignored what she said. Even though he is normally so easily outraged. Especially after these true words that his supposedly "big love" said to him, he should’ve been at least a bit upset.  

Just remember how devastated he was, when Gail rejects him, and she had rejected him way more nicely.

And please just directly compare Nandor’s “look of love” towards the Guide with how he looked at Guillermo in E3…

And the Oscar-worthy performance, in which Nandor fell on his knees saying overdramatically that the Baron should take his life instead of the Guide seemed totally forced.

Also, Nandor knew very well that the Baron wouldn't have killed anyone…

In E11 “The Finale” Nandor and the Guide is only a short topic at the beginning of the episode, when Nadja asked him if Laszlo could use some parts of the Guide for the Monster. Nandor didn't seem to be listening anyway with his mind somewhere else.

After it was announced that the film crew wanted to end the documentary, he didn't even flirt or interact more intensely with the guide in the entire episode.  As if he no longer needed to fool anyone now that he knew the movie crew was leaving.

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

What about Nandor still saying mean things towards Guillermo?

I also want to cover up the thing of Nandor remaining to say mean things towards Guillermo and wiping his hand on him after the intense hand clasp cause it was a bit clamy.

I I have read criticism of it in some WWDITS negatively posts. And this opinion is valid, no question. But I could imagine that Nandor only continued to do this for the camera, or it is just a normal thing between them cause they are a very fucked up toxic couple anyway ;)

Look at the slightly unsettled grin on Nandor's face when he gave towards the camera. As if he was worried that this very unusually long-lasting hand clasp could lead to more while the camera is still rolling. So, he had to come up with a quick excuse to end it. This facial expression from Nandor looking directly into the camera is so different from the looks he gave to the camera while interacting with the guide. It is just a short glace towards the lens before he puts his eyes back to Guillermo.

Guillermo looked as if he was sad not to express his gratitude to Nandor the way he would like to (cause of cameras as well maybe?)

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

The Finale

Nandor was so obviously happy that the documentary crew were going to leave. He was excited to shoot B-roll footage all the time and he sassily said this when Nadja told him about Guillermo being sad about the end of the documentary:

Looks like someone was really excited to no longer be constantly followed by the camera so that they could continue to focus on "other things"... Also, this reference to the will they/won’t they dynamic of Nandermo is insane.

Colin and Nadja suspecting Guillermo of having a secret relationship with one of the crew members could be an indirectly hint of a secret relationship with Nandor as well. @barren-heart already did this post about it which has made me to create this summary (hope you don't mind me mentioning you here :3).

Nadja possibly saw Guillermo making out with someone who looks like Nandor and maybe it was actually just Nandor!

She just don’t recognised it that fast cause they might quickly disappeared somewhere OR it was just another hint from Nadja, because she knew. She had become a bit of a nandermo shipper this season ;)

In the last speech of Nandor for the documentary it was so clearly to notice that the lair is only a metaphor for Nandor’s private life with Guillermo after the film crew would be gone...

This directly glance into the camera during the speech pause... As if he explicit wanted to make clear that he wanted to say something different when the cameras would be off.

And Guillermo’s reaction during that scene is so fucking funny. He seemed to have a moment of hope that Nandor would actually reveal their affair, but no it is the superhero lair again.

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

The Final Scene

In the background, there was played the same song that was used in the pilot episode for the post-credits. I like that really much!

🎶“Tonight in the Moonlight” (Morrie Morrison Orchestra)🎶 Tonight in the moonlight When silver blends with blue We'll do the thing all lovers do Lingering on till dawn breaks through Tonight in the moonlight with you

And again that offensive look into the camera from Nandor in the middle of his speech and Guillermo trying to get something specific out of him...

If, by this time, someone still does not consider Nandermo to be canon, then I can no longer help them xD

Subtext is their thing! That's always been the case throughout all the seasons! And in such a way that it was already too subtle to be subtext.

However, even Guillermos love sick puppy eyes and his cute “What about one… one of the other reasons?" didn't caused Nandor to spit it out. He bravely continued to avoid eye contact and was trying very hard not to become weak.

When Guillermo said that he won’t be here anymore after Nandor would wake up, Nandor’s description of their secret lair feels forced, which again supports the thesis of an actual love cave: “But what about us joining forces and fighting crime in a coequal partnership? Operating out of a hidden underground lair accessible exclusively by a top-secret coffin elevator.”

Of course, Nandor believed that Guillermo wouldn't leave and was just putting on a show for the camera. He knows his Guillermo better than anyone else...

And THIS look of Nandor’s face when he wanted Guillermo to sit with him inside his coffin comparing with a confirming deep voicing “Mm-hmm”

Oh boy, as if they are going to do very spicy things in that lair...

Then finally the relevation of Nandor’s masterpiece...

During the whole season Guillermo had a problem with sexual things in front of the camera while Nandor had a problem with expressing deep and meaningful feelings while the crew was filming. And because of that they prefer do both things IN THE SHADOWS!

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

So, this my view of Season 6 and the Finale and also my special tribute to my most favorute show! 🦇♥️

It has become longer than expected. Thank’s to everyone who has taken the time to read it this far!

[birdsandbeetlesandmoths]

So. Sonic 3. That was. certainly. hoo boy *collapses to the sound of a metal pipe falling*

Spoilers and thoughts under cut (LONG POST)

Well, my pre-movie post was SO WRONG. I think most stobotnik fans were, thinking that Stone would be the one dying. I- truly wasn’t expecting it.

I’ll get back to that in a second, let me get all of my silly things out of the way/the things i was hype about/had to crush my partner and friend’s hands about while witnessing.

The antics between Gerald and Ivo were expected but oh my GOD JIM CARREY. you are a national treasure, have fun in retirement. we will miss you greatly, but this being your final movie (probably) is a great thing to culminate your absolutely stunning career.

Anyway, their dance sequence was fucking insane, and as much as I was cringing, I was grinning through it too. The fight on the Eclipse cannon was also questionable BUT HOLY FUCK NOW I GET THE PRAYING MANTIS/FLY REFERENCE. (Thank god it wasn’t directly about stone and robotnik but i’m already cooking how i can connect them). Spanking? Also in my Sonic movie. But yeah.

Gerald and Ivo could never be more alike in intellect, but different in morals. Evident through Gerald’s fixation on avenging his daughter with no remorse or thought for whoever will get in the way, throwing away Ivo and the whole of the world as a result). He’s willing to kill himself, but as Shadow says and believes, that isn’t what Maria would have wanted.

I used to not like the Wachowskis. I was already a little unsettled when the first movie released by the fact that characters unrelated to previous Sonic media were being utilized as major plot elements, but during the second and third movies, I began to absolutely love them.

This third movie cemented that love. The father-son relationship between Tom and Sonic specifically. My heart was aching in the first scene at their little campsite, Happy BEarthday, and their heart-to-heart in Sonic’s old cave, talking about Choice (an analysis incoming) and that you always have a choice, and that your lungs (heart) will help you find the right one.

I think this movie might’ve done. One of the best jobs of displaying found family. The sibling relationship between Tails, Knuckles, and Sonic was the most heartrendingly beautiful and achingly real thing I’ve seen in a while. And it really hits you, the fact that they’re kids.

And the amount of silly little jokes, Tails having his gadgetry and Knuckles with his blunt personality, Sonic tying them all together with his wit and charm, it all became slightly surreal to see. To see something so happy, so delicately real.

Oh my god, on the trio, Knuckles saving both Sonic and Tails from falling to Earth. I was gasping that whole time, truly being sent into the moment. Movies and media rarely do that to me in the emotional sense.

AND AS FOR SHADOW AND MARIA

Holy fuck at least I was right about that part in my pre-movie wishes. I thought it was interesting how they adapted it, and it definitely made for it to be slightly more believable and less complicated.

But oh my gosh them. Skating around the lab, messing around together, introducing Shadow to that great 70s music and dancing, watching movies together and just being kids!! And don’t even get me started on the rooftop scene. Shadow was so vulnerable and self-conscious, and Maria comforted him in a way that touched me. Understands him in a way that no one else ever has, as everyone else only saw him as the experiment and the subject, while she saw him as his own person, with thoughts and emotions and curiosities.

It paralleled Sonic and Tom in the cinematography too, and the sentiment was all the same. That Shadow can choose who he wants to be. (I Am All I Am and Choice. Trust, it’s coming soon)

Maria and Shadow made me unbearably happy. It was all I could’ve ever asked for and more.

Shadow and Sonic were an absolutely crazy duo this show. Dude, in their fight versus each other? Both going Super and absolutely going at it, and Shadow having the absolute gall to accuse Sonic of not caring about his friends, that he was clearly here alone because he abandoned them, and mention Tom, which caused Sonic to go completely over the edge, and actually punch him straight into space and lose his Super.

Sonic and Shadow reconciling over their shared feeling of grief, Sonic sharing his pain, emphasizing the love that will be able to help them heal, Shadow reciprocating, and then Shadow remembering Maria after looking up at the stars, realizing, from Sonic’s words, that this truly wasn’t what Maria wanted, just that whole moon scene between them is living in my head rent free and I need to see it over and over again.

HOLYYY SHIT THEY PLAYED LIVE AND LEARN WHEN SUPER SONIC AND SUPER SHADOW TEAMED UP AND BEAT THE EVER LIVING FUCK OUT OF THOSE ROBOTS. Me and my friends were going so fucking insane in that theater.

Shadow remembering Maria (possibly for the last time) as he sacrifices himself to push the Eclipse cannon away from the place that Maria loved. Remembering all of the good moments, the love between them, that is all he wanted if he was going to leave the world for good. (Well, I mean, he’s still alive, but the amnesia route is still optional)

Sonic actually going slightly insane this movie was also very interesting to watch. His absolute- like, his vision went RED when Shadow mentioned Tom. That was what set him OFFFF. His abuse of the Master Emerald and even threatening his own best friends/siblings over this— god the emphasis of choice in this film I want to sob.

Also, yall already KNOW I WAS BALLING ABOUT THE AKIRA SLIDE, SNAPCUBE REFERENCES, AND EVERY TIME SHADOW BREATHED OR MOVED. Literally could not contain myself from absolutely sob-cry-screaming at Shadow and (Keanu did a great job btw) his entire story, his joy with Maria and his pain all after. (His Super form looked fuck beautiful, a new colorful hue every time I saw it)

All in all, Robotniks were hilarious, Maria and Shadow were beautifully tragic and just generally so so SO adorable and loving. I’m so glad that Tails and Knuckles got more serious appreciation and screen time this movie as well, because as much as Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles were sidelined in this movie (to put forth Robotniks and Shadow, understandably so), it still felt more fulfilling and real than in the second movie. Super forms continue to be beautiful onscreen, I would like to collapse and die from hearing ONE OK ROCK and Live and Learn.

AHEM. Now, clearly, I will be making a separate post solely about Stobotnik. Along with the multiple Stone-centric fics burning a hole in my brain and the choice and grief analyses awaiting my attention. Bear with me as I have SO MANY THOUGHTS.

We won. . . but at what cost.

My friends, my partner, you already know. We died and were promptly revived together in that theater.

[thememestrider]

40k Nsfw alphabet - Leman Russ x F! Reader

Merry Christmas everyone. As usual, apologies for grammar and spelling errors, ooc or other such mistakes. Hope you all enjoy :)

(as requested by @yanagikou. I'm working thru everyone else's requests dw, just let me cook lol)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Surprisingly tender and thoughtful. Leman Russ may look like a barbarian on the outside side, but behind closed doors he is a kind, caring and gentle lover.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Leman likes a woman with meat on her bones. He loves belly bumps and love handles. He loves thick thighs that he can sink his fingers into. Also, Fenris is such a cold, wintery place that it's almost essential that a baseline person be a little thicker.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

While finishing inside you will always be his favourite, Leman also loves finishing on your belly or your chest. He loves the sight of you covered in his seed, the smell of it mixing with your sweat and pheromones. He also loves the smell and taste of you. Often, after you two have made love, Leman will be loath to clean himself up- the thought of washing the scent of you from his body is unfathomable to him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to try pegging but he's way too scared to ask you. Nothing further, your honour.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Leman is one of only two primarchs (the other being Fulgrim) that ACTUALLY has ANY previous sexual experience. That, paired with his naturally out going and self confident personality, means that generally, Leman feels very confident in bed. He knows all those little tricks. Like propping your lower back up on a pillow and pressing down on your abdomen when he's on top. But don't mistake that confidence for arrogance. If there's one thing that Leman has taken away from his past experiences, the one little trick he will always remember, it's that the only way he can be sure to pleasure his partner is to listen to them. It's to follow their direction. Simply put, he's not the kinda man to rub your inner thigh for 2 mins and ask if you finished. No. He's the kinda guy to tell you to take his hand and guide it to exactly the right spot.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggie (self explanatory. I mean, come on. This is Leman Russ, the big WOLF man. It's basically a requirement at this point.),

missionary (For when he's craving tenderness and intimacy) and spooning (best of both of the above)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Leman can pull off both very well. But the most important thing to note here is that for him, sex is something to have fun with. He wants you both to just enjoy yourselves. If that means being serious, then great! If that means giggling, calling each other funny names or breaking the sexual tension with wise cracks, then great!

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The clue is in the name, frankly. Leman Russ is the Great Wolf: of course he's gonna look the part. It's thick. It's bushy. His chest and back are also super hairy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Leman is a surprisingly romantic man. So much of his time is spent warring, fighting, and generally acting like a barbaric ruffian. So, more often than not, by the time he makes it to bed with you, he is craving intimacy and gentleness. Of course, as things spice up he might want to get a little rougher, but it always comes from a place of love, fun and pleasure.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Leman makes as much noise when he masturbates as he does when he's having regular sex. Which is a lot.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

First up is breeding. Regardless of whether or not the pair of you actually want to have children, the thought of pumping you full, of making your belly swell with his seed, is irresistible to him.

Second; menstruation. Everything about it turns him on. The scent of your changing pheromones. The implications of those changes- that your body is not only ready, but yearning for his seed- that feed directly into his breeding kink. The fact that sex provides you relief from your cramps, giving him extra motivation to make love as fiercely and passionately as he can. The red river doesn't bother him either, so no matter how heavy your flow is, he's still gonna eat you out if you want him to.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In the living room of his chambers, in front of the hearth, right on top of the largest, most luxurious animal-hide rug that's sprawled out on the floor in front of the flames.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

One word: scent. And I don't mean perfumes or anything like that. I mean the smell of you. Your pheromones. Your bodily musk. Leman loves it. It's like a drug for him. And when you're feeling turned on or you are ovulating? It sends him absolutely feral.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that involves threatening, demeaning, hitting or choking you and anything else in that vein. The reasons why are pretty obvious: Leman loves you. The thought of hurting you or causing you distress is practically heresy.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.).

Leman is a pussy eating king. When he's giving it to you, he's absolutely ravishing you, so much so you're gonna be aching the next day.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Leman enjoys both as much as each other. It all depends on how you're both feeling.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.).

While he'd prefer to have all night to make love to you, Leman is down for a quickie. This is particularly true when you're ovulating or having your time of the month, as the scent of your hormones makes him horny to the point of frenzy.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Absolutely! So long as it doesn't involve any of the things mentioned back up in N, Leman loves experimentation.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Come on. Seriously. This is Leman frickin Russ. This man can go for DAYS.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Leman doesn't own toys, and his ego might be bruised if he learns that you like to use them. He'll get over it though. You won't give him a choice.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Leman is totally a tease. Even more so when the two of you are in public. He likes making you blush with dirty words whispered in your ears and startling you with slaps on the ass or surprise bear hugs from behind.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Leman is utterly shameless when it comes to making noise. He encourages you to be the same. Sounds he makes include in order: growls, moans, roars and whimpers.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

When he's going down on ou, he loves it when you pull his hair. Nothing further, your honour.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Imagine the beefiest beefcake of a Viking man, then multiply the beefiness by 3.5. That's Leman.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. Very high. He'd make love to you twice a day if it was viable. He just adores you, your body and how they both make him feel so Throne-damn much.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Leman is always absolutely ragged at the end of your love-making sessions. As much as he wants to just fall straight asleep, however, he insists on caring for and cuddling with you first. He may fall asleep first after that, but only ever after that.

[lucent-roase]

You have cooked to perfection with the TOH Beta AU Thingy. I have so so so much brainrot for it. It's so good and I love it. It has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and did my taxes. I am OBSESSED!!!!

hello here is a gift in hopes to do your taxes even more!

AGSGDHFNGNG IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE ITTT

i’m still figuring out which path to go with Hunter and Willow. i have Luz’s and Amity’s personalities mostly finished, but the two ways in which Willow and Hunter could go are very different (my original idea was of Willow being a lot more obsessive* of Hunter, but my recent drawings portray her a lot more bored, so i don’t know!!).

it’s so fun to draw this au, and i’m glad other people enjoy it as much as i do!

*obsessive as in far more protective and would risk her life for him, though shrug it off as “child’s play” or something. but also obsessive as in if she saw someone else talking to him she’d crash out

[tuesdayiminlove]

i don't wanna look at anything else (now that i saw you) PART 2/3

where jamie seems to remember everything, and you're just trying to navigate a stitch on your crochet flower (jamie tartt x fem!reader)

part one

A/N: here's part two!!!!! link what yall think, im so grateful for the feedback of the first part, it's super encouraging <33 tysm. also this is NOT proofread oops

word count: 4.5k

When you arrive back inside your home, you’re heavy-breathing with a heartbeat erratic enough for your heart to pop out of your chest. You place your keys down, reaching into your jean pocket for your phone, placing the first call you can manage to muster up. 

Stevie is over within minutes, you think you might’ve heard her light jogging over to your house. 

Her heavy pants echo the room as she tries to muster up the words. “I just got back from work, and I fucking ran! Tell me the emergency immediately.”

“I don’t even know where to begin!” you say. “I mean, I was trying to make some creamy vegetable soup, but I didn’t even get to chop the tomatoes, Stevie! The fucking tomatoes! I—“

“Okay, begin by getting the point, babe." She walks to your kitchen, you following close behind. It doesn’t come to a surprise that she opens your refrigerator, most likely rummaging for the cucumbers and your chickpea hummus. “I love you, but if this is dire, I’m gonna need to know now.” 

You gather your thoughts as Stevie begins to look through your drawers for a knife. How do you even say it simply? “Jamie Tartt thinks I’m his girlfriend.”

Stevie drops the knife. 

In any other situation, you would scold her for doing something close to a hazard in the kitchen. But you understand her actions completely. If you were holding a flower pot when finding out this information, you’d drop that shit, too. 

“Continue before I absolutely freak the fuck out.”

That’s when you tell her about the call and the trip to the hospital. The words are coming out of your mouth at the speed of light, you’re surprised Stevie is managing to keep up. But she does, quietly chopping her cucumbers and dipping a few into the hummus. This is a more collected look than when she dropped the knife, but you’re sure the gears are turning in her head just as much as they are for you currently. 

“I just left his house and I told him I’d be back with—soup!”

You don’t wait to turn the stove back on, shuffling Stevie away from the center of the counter while you go back to cooking. 

She says your name slowly, eyes wide. “This is some romcom-movie-shit, babe.”

You fight a roll of your eyes. “This is real life!” you scold. “And the poor boy is concussed, probably mental!” 

“Mental for thinking he’s dating you? Have you seen yourself? You’re fucking magnificent.”

“Thanks,” you drawl, not in the mood for a compliment. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s just a bit bonkers right now, and I don’t know what to do!” You stir the pot stressfully, watching the ingredients mix around the broth. You’ve put a bit more ingredients, and added more broth to make sure that the serving is good for two, and for any leftovers Jamie may want. You think you’ll have enough to send Steve home with, as well. “The doctor said not to startle him, but I’m pretty fucking startled. So I don’t know how to not startle him when I’m not in the right state of mind! This feels so stupid.” 

“I think you should tell him the truth,” says Stevie. She’s right behind your shoulder, peering over at the pot. She takes a large whiff, and hums. “You making this for him?”

“And for you.” And me! 

“Ah,” she says. “I see. A little compensation so I don’t out you to the press, yeah? Nice thinking!”

“Not funny,” you drawl. It was never a thought that crossed your mind that Stevie would go out, telling people of your current entanglement with Jamie. She’s an editor for a magazine company, and she has a problem telling you all the tips she gets about local celebrities, always trusting you not to tell anyone anything. You don’t doubt that she’ll do the same for you. “So I should tell him the truth, then?” you ask, getting back to the main point of Stevie’s visit. 

“Mhm,” she replies. “Probably not today though, don’t you think? He’s overwhelmed enough as it is, he’s probably gonna be benched in Richmond’s next couple matches. That sad fuck is probably groveling as we speak. And he can’t even drink to cure the pain! … That’s how concussions work, right?” She shakes her head. “Anyway, don’t do it today. If I were you, I’d play it by ear, you know?”

You nod, having heard all of this from the doctor.

"And one more thing."

Stevie hums in questionn

“… He may have tried to kiss me.”

You think everyone in the neighborhood heard Stevie’s screech when she belts your name. 

It’s later in the day when you ring Jamie’s doorbell. You’d successfully shooed Stevie out of your house, convincing her that she does not need to spy on you from your kitchen window in case Jamie tries to make a move (“I’ll be there in two seconds, ready to make that concussion worse. Just say the word.”). And now you have the soup in two tupperware containers, as well some carrots and dip in your tote bag because that’s what Jamie originally always used you for, right? The familiarity will hopefully make him happy. 

When he opens the door, you’re not surprised to see all the lights are closed, as well as his curtains shut (so much for Stevie spying). The only thing you see that’s shedding artificial light is the lamp by his staircase, but even that looks as dim as it can be. 

“Hey, love,” he says groggily, a certain warmth to it that makes the nickname seem more intimate. He rubs his eyes as he moves to create room for you to come inside. “Sorry I took so long. Took a bit of a nap.”

“Oh,” you frown, concern taking over the nerves of his sudden pet names, “I’m sorry for waking you. I can just drop these off and head out, if you’d prefer?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Don’t be silly. Come in.”

You enter apprehensively, though you’re trying your best to conceal it. This is the second time ever that you are in Jamie’s home. And it’s only been a day. The strangeness of that fact lingers in the air as you close the door behind you.

You trail behind him toward the kitchen, your footsteps quiet against the hardwood floors. Various football plaques litter the walls, as well as many, many photos of Richmond’s team.

“Why don’t you go sit down?” you say as you simultaneously take in his home. “I can prepare these myself and bring them to you.”

“Rubbish," scoffs Jamie, "I’m still mobile, and I’m not leaving my girlfriend to take care of me like you’re some sort of maid. I’m not bedridden.”

The word girlfriend, once again, catches you off guard, and your heart does a funny little stutter. You push it aside. “I just don’t want you to exert yourself,” you reason, brows furrowed. “You’re concussed, Jamie.”

“Who cares about that?” he jokes, waving off your concerns. 

Your jaw clenches. You want to say I care. Because this concussion is affecting you more than you fucking know. But you bite your tongue, and instead ask him where he keeps his bowls and silverware. 

Minutes later, Jamie and yourself are sitting on his couch. You took the liberty of sitting on the opposite end of his sofa, taking up as little space as possible. You’ve tucked yourself into the far corner, legs curled up slightly, trying to occupy as little room as possible. Jamie, on the other hand, lounges comfortably, his socked feet propped on the edge of the coffee table, though his posture is slightly more relaxed than it was earlier. You’d ask Jamie if it would be okay to crochet while you’re here, mainly so you can have something to do instead of sitting there awkward with today’s events before you. 

So, soup now resting on Jamie’s coffee table (you stop every few moments to take a bite), you’re intent on the rose petal you’re making with your yarn. Jamie alternates between eating his soup and watching you, his gaze unashamedly direct, though there’s a softness to it that makes your heart flutter despite yourself.

To anyone else, the scene might look endearingly domestic: the two of you sharing a quiet moment in the living room, him eating soup, you crocheting, the occasional exchange of lighthearted banter. But there’s an underlying element to it. You don’t want to tip-toe around Jamie, because you’re supposed to be acting natural and all, but it’s hard. 

“You’re the most thoughtful thing ever, you know that?” he says, after a minute of silence. 

Your hands pause mid-stitch, your eyes staying fixed on the delicate yarn in front of you as you decide how to respond, stomach churning nervously. “A ‘thing’?” you joke lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “How very gentlemanly of you.”

“You know what I mean!” chastises Jamie. 

Fighting the butterflies in your stomach as his words settle warmly around your heart.

“I do know,” you reply softly, finally glancing up at him. “Why do you say that?”

“The rose you’re knitting—“

“Crocheting.”

“Crocheting. Sorry, love. How many are you making for the old bloke’s grandson?”

The moment you take in Jamie's words, you pause, crochet hook in the air. “What?” 

Jamie looks confused. “Mr. Taylor? That his name?”

You shake your head, mind still reeling. “No, I know who you meant. How do you know I’m making this for his grandson?” You don’t recall telling that to Jamie when you initially mentioned what you wanted to do here. 

You currently have half of a rose petal done, wanting to make something special for Mr. Taylor grandson—Roman. The young toddler is allergic to flowers, getting all sniffly and itchy when you had brought over a hand-made flower arrangement for the Taylors (it had been their 37th wedding anniversary). But Roman had just kept looking at the flowers with such curiosity, despite his body’s affinity for them. When you had decided to take up crocheting (you wanted to make tiny plant plushies yourself—because why are stuffed plushies with cute faces on them so expensive these days?), one of the first things you learned was to make stuffed flower arrangements, just for when Roman would visit. 

How could Jamie possibly know that?

“Because you’re you,” says Jamie. Blush coats over his cheeks lightly when he averts his gaze from hers, hand moving to scratch the back of his head.

“… And," he begins, "one day, I was in me car and I saw you walk over to the Taylors’ house with crochet roses. ‘Made it look like a nice arrangement, too. I wanted to ask you why you had fake flowers when you have fucking millions just in your front yard. Didn’t know if that’d sound weird, though, so…” he trails off, his words getting quieter, “So, I may have asked Mr. Taylor instead.”

You try to recall the memory Jamie spoke of. You do recall the last time you had headed over to the Taylors with the signature bouquet. Jamie had been at the front of his house, getting into his car. Of course she had noticed him immediately, spotting him just by her peripheral vision, but she hadn’t decided to spare him a look until she crossed the street to look back, but he had been preoccupied. She didn’t even think he saw her that day. 

That day had been nearly three months ago. 

Your mouth falls open. Jamie had noticed and asked about you that long ago?

Jamie glances at you nervously, mistaking your silence for something more negative. “I’m not some creep or anything, promise! I just—I dunno—I was curious! You’re always doing stuff like that.” 

You shake your head. “I just never knew you noticed,” you mumble, your nerves growing. Even now, he remembers. You wish you knew what that meant for you two; you wish that the suspicions and hopes in your brain are true. “Or asked.”

Jamie’s cockiness kicks back in at your flustered nerves. “Like I said, I’ve always noticed you. And now I get to be the luckiest guy.”

Your eyes meet his. For a moment, you let yourself pretend. Pretend that this is real—that this is the relationship you and Jamie have built together. That you’re a couple, and this is just one of those moments you get to stumble upon—a sweet realization that Jamie had liked you long before either of you dared to admit it.

You let yourself hold on to the fantasy, just for a moment.

It has to be just a moment... you think if you stare any longer at Jamie your body is going to take over and grab him for a kiss, just to know what it may feel like. You just know you shouldn’t.

“Four,” you say softly. “I’m making four for Roman.” You turn back to the stitch you had laid on your lap, trying to get out of your frenzie and into your zone. 

Jamie smiles, eyes still twinkling. “That’s his name? Roman?”

You hum. “He’s about to turn four. And he’s just the most adorable kid I’ve seen.”

“I’m being rude, aren’t I?" replies Jamie, "Prodding.”

Your head snaps up. “What? No.” You uncomfortably shift in your seat to hopefully look less odd. “Sorry if I’m being weird. I’m just… zoned out, I guess. Thinking a lot.”

“Yeah?” he says, staring at you intently. “What about?”

“Just… everything about today, I suppose.”

Jamie jokingly smiles. “Yeah, getting a call that your boyfriend got whacked in the head and is now concussed wasn’t really in your daily plan, was it?”

You let out a laugh. “No, it wasn’t.”

“It got in the way of watering radishes, I bet.”

Again, you laugh more, your stomach moving steadily at the action. From the limited conversation you’ve had with him, paired with now, you’ve deduced that Jamie is just a complete pro for lightening up conversations. When your heart races nervously, a quip comes out of his mouth that makes your body go back steady. You don’t even think that this is an individual experience; he seems like he does it a lot. You wonder how that balance comes so perfectly in his life. 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “My gardening has to come to a pause today.” 

“It’s a shame,” he says, grinning. “Would’ve loved to see you in your cute sunhat, or the giant yellow gloves you always wear.”

Your eyes widen at his words. 

Seeing your shock, he adds, “You think I don’t notice these things? I always have.”

You try not to cough up the food you’d just digested. You would like to consider that Jamie is just making things up, but the description of your usual accessories when you’re out tending to your plants remain true. The giant yellow gloves belong to your mom, and there hasn’t been any reason to buy new ones if you’ve already got a pair. 

And the sunhat—well, it’s not everyday you’re seen out with it. It’s usually if the sun ever comes out, glaring at your eyes while you try to focus on a task at hand. You’ve probably brought it out maybe a couple of times since Jamie had moved in next to you; none of those times being as of recent. 

It’s a shock Jamie can even recall it. 

He remembers the little things. I always have. 

“Fuck,” he mutters softly. “Have I creeped you out? Don’t mean to sound like a prick, but I thought what I said was pretty fucking cute. But I understand if it’s creepy again. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, Jamie, I’m not creeped. ‘M kinda just shocked that you notice things like that.” 

He shrugs. “It’s hard to not pay attention. You live right beside me. And you’re you. It’s pretty fucking impossible for me not to notice things about you.”

Your heart is back to racing. All of Jamie’s confessions of things he’s noticed can only insinuate that he’s genuinely seen things about you, whether he had gotten hit in the head or not. They’re not fabricated in his mind from his belief that you two are dating. He’s not like Holy shit, do you remember that time we had dinner together? You think if he started recalling specific memories that never happened, you’d check him straight into the nearest mental institution. 

But he’s saying things that are so undeniably true; things he’s noticed about your being. 

If you aren’t already so conscious and confused of the actual problem at hand, you’d sit here and pretend that he’s yours—just as much as he claims to be. You wish this moment to be real, but it’s not. The sadness and guilt that weighs over you with that fact can overtake any other feeling in this moment. 

“Jamie,” you begin, “I need to tell you something.”

You think about Stevie’s advice, to not tell him today. The doctor saying not to overwhelm him. You know they’re right. You don’t want to. The poor bloke is probably already stressed enough as it is. You want to be here for Jamie, to help him get better because even with your limited experience around him, you care very deeply about his wellbeing. And maybe your feelings are skewed by the crush you’ve been harboring on him, but that’s hardly the point anymore. 

But how are you supposed to keep this up? Pretending to be someone you’re not, filling a role in his life that isn’t truly yours—it feels wrong, no matter how much you want to help him heal.

You don’t think you’re cut out for pretending. 

Jamie looks at you expectantly, a small smile on his face and your heart just breaks. 

“Jamie… I don’t know how to say this,” you admit, your throat tightening. “But I’m not your girlfriend.”

For a second, Jamie looks beyond confused. “The fuck? Did we break up?”

“I got the call today,” you explain gently, shrinking down into the sofa with a racing heart. “When I heard you were in the hospital, I was worried—God, I was worried—but I didn’t understand why they called me. And then Roy said… he said we’d been going out.” You bite your lip, carefully choosing your next words. “It made me realize something had gone wrong. That maybe you hit your head and got things mixed up.”

Jamie doesn’t say anything, his brows knitting together as he processes your words.

“I wanted to do what was best for you,” you continue, your voice growing quieter. “Everyone kept telling me not to startle you, not to stress you out. But I can’t keep pretending we’re in a relationship when we’re not. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel honest. “I care about you, Jamie. I care about you getting better. But I can’t pretend, okay? I’m really, really sorry.””

It’s been nearly two days since you’ve seen or heard from Jamie. You’d practically bolted after your admission, your chest tight with guilt and your hands trembling as you no longer felt worthy of being in his home.

You hadn’t looked back, and he hadn’t stopped you.

It’s all you think about as you sit in the kitchen with your morning coffee, trying your best to catch up on the emails about work that have been piling up while you wallow.

Your work is interrupted when the doorbell rings. 

You immediately think it’s Stevie; she’s been wanting to see you since you had texted and said that you couldn’t even last the night without telling Jamie the truth. You purposefully left out the parts where Jamie pointed out the crocheting for Roman, and the gloves, and the sunhat, and Jamie just noticing you. God knows Stevie will be the first person to jump up and say he’s in love with you, and you’re not ready for that delusion in your head to be spoken out into the universe. 

Especially after Jamie has not spoken to you since. He’s probably freaked out, never wanting to speak to you for as long as he possibly can. 

You close your laptop and head to your front door, not even bothering to check who may be on the other end because—duh—it’s Stevie. 

Only, it’s not her. 

Instead, three boys stand on the opposite end of your door, gaping at you from the moment you lay eyes on them. 

They look vaguely familiar to you, and judging but the sweatsuits they’re wearing with the AFC Richmond logo, they’re Jamie’s teammates. You swallow your anxiety and give them a confused look.

“You’re real,” the man in the middle says, tall and broad with a commanding presence.. 

“Shut up, bruv,” the man to the right elbows the other. “We don’t even know if it’s her. ‘Could be the girl two houses down…”

“Mi amor,” says the final man, eyes light. His warm, melodic voice is unmistakably Spanish, holding up a bottle of wine like a peace offering. “What’s your name?”

You frown, wanting to ask so many questions when a shout intercepts the trio that has lined up at your door. 

“Oi!” 

They boys all turn, and you manage to peek your head out the door, to see Jamie stomping down the steps of his home, clad in sweats and… cow slippers? 

Despite the grumpy set of his face, the sight is almost endearing.

“Jamie!” the trio chorus in unison, like they’ve been caught red-handed.

“You didn’t answer the door,” one of them says, “we figured you’d be at your beautiful lady’s.”

“Don’t mean you can go knocking on doors of people you don’t fucking know,” huffs Jamie, finally reaching them. He doesn’t spare you a glance. 

The boys look ashamed. “We’re sorry, bruv,” says the tallest one, voice gruff and guilty. “Dani made Birria tacos, and Colin’s brought fuzzy socks. I just wanted to say sorry for whacking ya.”

Jamie’s eyes soften at his words. He sighs. “Thank you, mate. I appreciate it, I really do. But I stand by what I fuckin’ said. You can’t go knocking at random doors.”

“But it’s not random!” says the boy you’ve deduced to be Colin. For the first time since they’ve knocked, he turns to you in acknowledgement. “It’s lovely to meet you!” 

“The flowers are gorgeous,” says Dani, eyes g;azing dutifully at your front lawn. “And we apologize for the interruption.”

Jamie nods at them, like a mother watching over their child at the playground after a petty fight breaks out. 

You grin, awkwardness dissolvong. “It's okay. And—I love birria tacos, by the way. Good choice.”

Dani blushes. “I’m sure Jamie wouldn’t mind sharing it with his lady. Wouldn’t  you, Jamie?”

Jamie sputters, looking between the boys, and sparing you the first glance since he’s got here. His mouth opens, then closes. Repeatedly. 

“Um,” you interject, “I would much rather let Jamie enjoy it. Thank you, though!”

Isaac frowns. “That’s how you’re gonna treat your girl?” he grumbles at Jamie. 

“She said it!” argues Jamie. “Not me!”

Isaac shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about no chivalry these days, but he claps Jamie on the shoulder. “Alright, bruv, we’ll get outta your hair. Just make sure you enjoy the tacos. And, uh…” he glances at you with a cheeky grin, “Be nice to your lady, yeah?”

Jamie groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Colin pipes up, “It was lovely meeting you!” His voice is warm and genuine, and he flashes you a smile before jogging after Isaac, who is already halfway down the steps.

Dani lingers a moment longer, holding out the wine bottle to Jamie. “You deserve this,” he says with a knowing smile, his gaze flicking between you and Jamie.

Jamie takes the bottle “Thanks.”

“And don’t worry, we won’t knock on any more random doors. Adiós, mi amigos!” Dani trots after the others.

And then it’s just the two of you.

“‘M really fucking sorry ‘bout them. I didn’t think they’d come knocking at your door when I decided to fucking ignore them.” He stares down at the endearing cow faces at his feet, sighing.

You shrug, a harmless smile tugging at your lips. Jamie looks awfully nervous, which you don’t understand. “Makes sense, honestly. And I don’t mind. Now that you’re here, though, I just wanna ask how you’re doing.”

He looks briefly surprised. “I’m doing alright,” he says eventually. 

“Okay, because I never intend to pry, but I’ve just been pretty worried. And—“

“You don’t need to pretend to care.”

The abruptness of Jamie’s cutoff has you wondering whether or not it actually occurred. His frown, however, only solidifies that those words did indeed come from his mouth. 

“Excuse me?” you reply, voice sharper than intended.

“Listen, I was a fuckin’ idiot and a borderline creep to you. When you left, I really thought about it and how fucked up that whole day was. I can’t imagine how it made you feel; being put into a position where you had to be in a relationship with me.”

You frown. You wonder now if this is why Jamie has chosen not to speak to you; if his guilt for the situation has kept him from reaching out. You refuse for that to be a reality. 

“Jamie, are you serious? I just wanted you to be okay! And that’s still what I want for you.”

His eyes peek up from his slippers to you. “… So you don’t hate me?”

You laugh. “I have no reason to hate you, Jamie.”

“You have every reason to believe that I’m a stalker-creep, by the way!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to see you as one?”

“Obviously fucking not!

“Then stop trying to drill it into my head!” you laugh. 

Jamie stares at you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like he wants to argue but can’t find the words. Finally, he lets out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. There’s a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, softened by the small. And, for the first time in days, the tension between you feels like it’s starting to ease.

“If it’s not obvious,” he begins awkwardly, “I like you. A lot.” He laughs at himself. “Enough to reach stalker status. And clearly my fucking fantasies wanted to take over with me fucking head… but I wanted to do it all the right way. ‘Kinda cheated didn’t I?”

For the first time in two days, the churning in your stomach isn’t anxiety, and instead something entirely more manageable. You grin at him, teasing, “Maybe a little.”

He huffs a laugh, the sound a mix of relief and something hopeful. His eyes meet yours, more sure now, though his voice remains gentle when he says, “I want to do it right. All of it. If you’ll let me.”

The way he looks at you—open, expectant, like he’s giving you the choice and trusting you to give the truest response.

Your smile says everything he needs to know.

(You already know Stevie’s going to lose her mind when you tell her.)

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 24 -  Pudding

The next morning, John was in a good mood, working in the kitchen. The evening with Sherlock had been quite lovely in the end, just the two of them, alone together. He realised he hadn’t finished speaking to Sherlock about the case, though. Sherlock had been to see his brother, hence he'd needed the ice cream too, but didn’t say why. So when Sherlock strolled in to find the mess surrounding John, his face a little horrified, John already jumped in to distract him.

“Was he mad?” John asked.

“Who?” Sherlock looked confused. 

He was already dressed. Looking nice for this time of morning. Perhaps he was about to go out for the day. Should John have checked if they had a case first? Had John forgotten something they were doing entirely?

“Mycroft. Was he mad that the case wasn't as exciting as he had hoped? You didn’t say.” 

“Oh. He'll get over it,” Sherlock said with a flippant hand gesture.

“Did you still get paid, though?” John turned to ask.

“Yes, we got paid,” Sherlock corrected.

“Good,” John said, nodding as he worked. 

“What are you doing in here, then? It smells amazing,” Sherlock sighed, walking in and looking around. Every surface was a mess, all covered in bowls and flour, and spices.

“I thought I'd cook a Christmas pudding. I found my Nan’s recipe.”

“Really? You've never done that before,” Sherlock said, surprised.

“I was feeling inspired by all the sweet goodness on our trip,” he said with a laugh. “Well, actually, I also promised Molly I would bring… something to the party.” He grimaced. Sherlock was not thrilled about having to go in the first place.

Sherlock flashed him an annoyed look.

“I know. I know. And you wanted to get out of going. I know.”

Sherlock went straight to the kettle to make tea. 

“Anyway, I agreed to bake some cookies - simple enough. And then, when I was looking through my recipes I found the pudding recipe and I thought I’d make that just for us... to have, before you go away for Christmas.” John looked around him at the mess and suddenly felt overwhelmed. 

“Can I help?” Sherlock asked, noticing John's distress.

“You ah… you want to help?” John asked, looking surprised and nervous at the offer.

“Yes, John. I want to help. Put me to good use. Just let me have a tea first.”

“You’re not doing anything today?” he checked.

“Nope. Free as a bird,” he said with a smile. He grabbed his tea and moved over to a chair placing his cup on the one corner of the table that was clear of cooking paraphernalia.

“Ok. Sure. Here, put an apron on or that posh shirt of yours will get ruined.” John handed him an apron from the cupboard and then set about trying to organise the chaos a bit, now that he had someone else involved in it. Once Sherlock had finished his tea, John passed him a bowl with dough in it and a rolling pin.

Sherlock still managed to make wearing an apron look sexy. It irritated John - making it hard for him to focus. He set Sherlock to rolling out dough and pressing the biscuit cutter into it, making different Christmas shapes and placing them on the tray for baking. For a while they worked in silence, just concentrating on what they were doing. John mixed his soaked fruit into the bowl of dry ingredients and got the pudding mixture sorted.

“This is nice. I feel like we usually don't share in the cooking together,” he said finally.

“I’ve made you cook too often,” Sherlock rushed to reply.

“It's alright. I don't mind doing it so long as you don't mind my terrible cooking,” John laughed. 

“Your cooking isn’t terrible.”

“Well, I’m not a terrible cook. I don't know, I just assume you are more accustomed to nicer food.” John blushed at the admission. His basic cooking kept them alive, he supposed. It was sustenance, but it wasn’t fine dining.

“John, we get takeaway when I’m in charge, or when you’re tired. When you make time to cook, it means something. To me, at least.”

“Well, I appreciate that. And that you don’t, you know, make fun of my cooking. I'm sure you can cook too.”

“Yes, I can, and I have done so on occasion, but when my brain's busy and my body's tired, I struggle to sum up the energy. My brain often doesn't have room left to think about what I want to cook, or what I could cook, or what I should cook… or if we have the ingredients… or when I'll have time to go to the shops to get the ingredients. You just have this ability to look at what's in the fridge and make something up. I can't do that.”

“You're a chemist!” John exclaimed. “I would have thought potions would be your specialty.”

“No, funnily enough. At least, I don't do that with food, so much as actual chemicals. Not advisable for the kitchen.” 

“Yeah, all right, genius,” John teased. "Hasn't stopped you running experiments in here, has it."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. His experiments on the kitchen table were always a source of heated conversation. “But honestly, John, that's a skill. I can follow a recipe and I've cooked some very fancy, very impressive things when I was younger, but I'm following someone else's recipe with ingredients they've told me to buy. You can just improvise and I am constantly in awe of that.”

“Okay, that makes me feel a little bit better. Keep going with the compliments.” He flashed Sherlock a grin and his eyes sparkled with joy.

“I really like that one you do with the… with the minced meat?”

John laughed. “Mystery mince?” 

“Is that what you call it?” Sherlock chuckled.

“Yes, but it's just a bunch of stuff from the cupboard. It's just a mix of herbs and leftover veg and mince on toast it's not rocket science.”

“Well, I like it.” Sherlock lifted his chin defiantly.

“Good to know.” John chuckled to himself. “It feels good to know that I can still impress a genius.”

“You are a physician, John, you're not an idiot.”

“No, I know. You're just… very intimidating.”

“Me?” Sherlock looked shocked.

“Yes. You’re very—“

Sherlock’s brow creased as he watched John. Was that really what he thought? Was that why he was so nervous all the time? 

“You're very scathing sometimes... very unforgiving of people who you think are stupid. And I am prone to a lot of stupid things. So…” He looked down at his bowl, suddenly embarrassed he’d said anything.

“Oh, John, you're not even close to the idiots we see the rest of the time. You are an army surgeon. Are you seriously suggesting that I would think that you are stupid?” Sherlock asked.

John thought about it, and while they occasionally called each other idiot, he knew it was more in an affectionate way, somehow. A term of endearment. He’d used it on Sherlock too, and Sherlock Holmes was no idiot. He never meant it like that. “Well, I suppose when you say it like that, it sounds silly.”

“Perfectly ridiculous,” Sherlock said. He went back to working the dough. “John, maybe I’ve never said it to you directly. But you are one of the smartest people I know. I happen to have one of the fastest, most complex minds in the world. The skills I have are not are not particularly usual for the average human. So sometimes it seems like I expect everyone to be like me, but I know that I'm peculiar. You might have a more normal brain in comparison, but you are highly intelligent, highly accomplished. You have skills I've never even dreamed of having… to open up a human? To cut them open and understand what you're looking at? And fix them? At that level? Fascinating,” he sighed. “I find you fascinating.” 

John was lost for words. Sherlock had certainly never said that before. “I just always thought you lumped me in with the rest of the idiots.” He blushed.

“John, I wouldn't let you live here with me if I thought you were stupid. Quite honestly. You should know better than that.” He tilted his head and gave John a look of disbelief.

“Well, thank you, that's all the Christmas present I need.” He smiled at Sherlock and his friend looked back at him.

John was always fascinated with how Sherlock’s eyes changed colour, like a mood ring. Depending on his mood, or what he wore, his eyes shifted. And right now they were the most beautiful blue, while they were looking at John. Stunning. He didn’t mean to but he licked his lips nervously, lost for words. “Looks like you’re… ah… out of dough. Why don’t you pop those trays in the oven. Set the timer for eight minutes,” he said, returning his focus to the task.

He set about getting the pudding on to boil and then began making the icing for the biscuits, as Sherlock churned out more biscuits like a professional. Those violin-skilled fingers manipulated the dough and the biscuit cutters in a beautiful choreography that John kept finding himself watching. He was always rough and clumsy when he made them.

When the timer went off, Sherlock jumped up excitedly, and grabbed the tea towels to pull out the first tray of biscuits, eager to see how his handy work had gone. When he turned there was no bench space.

“John… if you could just…”

John’s thoughts were a million miles away. Sherlock, meanwhile, had grabbed both trays - one in each hand. So his hands were full, and the heat from the trays was burning through to his fingers now. 

“John!” Sherlock said more forcefully.

John spun around in a hurry, lifting the spoon out of the bowl, which managed to flick green icing across onto Sherlock’s cheek. He snorted and then realised the situation. “Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry. Here, let me help.” John moved to the bench and frantically shifted his recipe pages and a used bowl and put down some cork board to take the heat of the trays. “Sorry,” he said again.

Sherlock dropped both trays down, and let the tea towels drop to the floor as he shook his hands out. The heat had worked through to his fingers but not enough to burn them.

“Are you alright?” John asked.

“Yes, sorry, I should have thought about the bench space…”

“No. My fault,” John said then smiled. “Come here.”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed.

“I got… icing…” John moved to Sherlock and reached up his thumb, to wipe the icing away.

Sherlock froze at the action and watched John intently. John’s only focus seemed to be on the icing splatter, but he moved his thumb slowly, deliberately across Sherlock’s cheek, pressing ever so slightly to wipe it off. John’s eyes were suddenly captivated by the little freckles on the rise of Sherlock’s cheek, just above the icing, and the trail of colour it still left on his skin. Without meaning anything by it, without thinking, he moved his thumb to his own lips and sucked the icing away. Sherlock’s pupils dilated at the suggestive gesture, which John had apparently done unconsciously.

“Green,” John said quietly, with a smile, as he moved away, back to his stirring.

“Hmmm?” Sherlock hummed in question, words escaping him in the moment.

“You have green on your face. Finally I have my revenge,” John said with a cheeky smile.

“Oh.” Sherlock’s lips formed a circle as his brain caught up. “Oh right, yes. Ha!” He tried to settle his brain and bring himself back to his task. John hadn’t meant anything by it all. Just friendly teasing. He bent down and grabbed the towels from the floor and set about moving the biscuits silently to some cooling racks so he could place more biscuits on the trays, then get the next batch in the oven.

He turned and without thinking, he used the tea towel to flick at John’s leg. Revenge indeed.

John spun around, icing covered spoon in hand, in shock. “Oh it's like that is it?” he teased, his brow shooting up, recognising the threat of a food war.

“It could be like that,” Sherlock said, raising his brow as well, pausing to see what John would do.

They both started giggling at themselves, and Sherlock adjusted his grip on the tea towel, as if he was ready for battle. John walked closer to stand right in front of Sherlock, spoon poised, spine tall ready for the challenge. But something in Sherlock’s eyes changed when he got that close and all of a sudden the tension between them shifted. John’s smile dropped and he couldn’t take his eyes off Sherlock’s. They were trying to say something without words and John so wanted to hear what it was. He wanted to believe that the things racing around his own head might be reciprocated in his flatmate. In his friend. His best friend. His eyes searched Sherlock’s face for answers, but he wasn’t giving anything away. Sherlock’s eyes had shifted to that shade of blue again, and he was watching John just as closely, but the message wasn’t transmitting loud enough. John couldn’t read it.

Sherlock bent ever so slightly forward and John sucked in a quiet breath, suddenly feeling like Sherlock might actually kiss him. Maybe he was feeling the same, maybe this was the moment that would change everything. He didn’t move, he didn’t dare. What if he bridged the distance and Sherlock had not intended to do that. He would never survive the humiliation. He froze to the spot.

"John, there's something I..."

And then the timer startled them both. Sherlock pulled back and the tension shifted. Sherlock pushed past John and opened the oven to remove the next batch of biscuits and the whole moment was gone.

John stood staring into the void in front of him where Sherlock had been, trying to reconcile what he thought might have been happening, what had Sherlock wanted to say, and what did it all mean?

Posting early as today will be busy for me. Merry Christmas Eve to you all! Thanks for the support and comments and for following along. Hang in there! The next few will lead you to your resolution!!

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart 

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear 

@starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78 

@kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes

@battledress @kholkate @randomquadballpun @little-owls-things @daltongraham 

@sillygirlsmindpalace @oetkb12 @odditiesandeverything @johnlockficclub @rainstarboii @bheadhe

@hospitableasacactus @wssh13 @br-nz @solarmama-plantsareneat @givemesherbet-blog-blog

@dw91165 @pileofstardust2106 @moonkeller @surprisinglyokay @r4venlyn  

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@otter-von-bismarck @silvergoldsea @calaisreno

[demon-country]

This scene is so interesting to me for a number of reasons, but I want to talk about the eggs and how he said he finds them "off-putting". Now, Stolas is an owl, and like most birds of prey they can and often do eat the eggs of other birds (don't worry Blitz, it isn't cannibalism unless they eat eggs of their own species). So theoretically, eggs shouldn't actually be a problem and it's not like there aren't plenty of fancy foods that involve eggs.

But maybe it's not that deep, and has nothing to do with non-gourmet quality food. Maybe our heavily autistic-coded owl just has an aversion to a lot of breakfast foods. The texture of various types of cooked eggs, in particular, can be quite contentious even for people who aren't neurodivergent, but if you do have texture sensitivities then eggs can be a huge gamble.

The expression on his face in the shot above is exactly the one I'd make if someone tried to make me eat most egg-based dishes, and then I'd probably gag the second it was in my mouth, spit it out, and shudder through the visceral desire to claw my way out of my own skin.

Yeah, kinda like that lol.

Rodents, koi fish, and kale salads are probably safer foods, because there's less ways to cook them and he had a professional chef that would be able to do it the exact same way every time. They definitely are more expensive specialty foods though, so I'm glad he and Blitz were able to find a compromise with regular rats.

And I'm glad that Blitz didn't try to shame Stolas for his food preferences, especially because Stolas looks so awkward and embarrassed just saying them out loud. If he's anything like a lot of autistic folks, he was probably berated for being a picky eater, because even if in his own home with his own staff he could control what was served to him, the same cannot be said for anywhere else that required him to eat something lest he come off as rude. Blitz just takes it in stride though and simply asks about alternatives to vole and kale, because he definitely cannot afford that on a regular basis. And Stolas doesn't make a fuss about it, just tentatively admits that he also likes rats, which Blitz is more than happy to accommodate. Yes, what he offers is back alley feral rats, but Stolas doesn't seem put off by that or demand better quality, he's just alarmed and disturbed by Blitz having his fucking eye chewed on by one.

As someone with a lot of food hypersensitivities, it means a lot to me that Blitz doesn't accuse him of being spoiled or complain about Stolas needing a different diet than him or Loona. It often is hard to accommodate alternative dietary needs - be they because of food sensitivities, allergies, intolerances, or vegan/vegetarianism - when you're on a budget, but Blitz doesn't mind and jumps straight to a non-judgmental "what can you eat?" planning mode.

Like yeah, on the surface his answer to Blitz's initial "so what do you normally eat?" question and the way he gagged from a single, tiny bite of eggs does make him seem kinda spoiled. But his completely unhesitant, unbothered willingness to eat feral fucking rats says to me it wasn't about the fact that he now has to eat "poor people" food prepared by a novice chef, but rather that something about those foods in particular is hard for him to eat in general.

Just one more thing to add to the ever-growing pile of "Stolas is autistic!!" evidence, I guess. And just one more reason why I absolutely adore Blitz.

[katamarang-art]

Hi hi hi okay so I love your Wild Life Superhero AU and I found the art of Watcher (Grian, I'm guessing) and I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT HERE LEMME EXPLAIN.

Okay so first the pose is actually amazing. Watcher looks like he just dropped in on someone trying to mess with the thing that's now behind him.

And he looks dangerous. Like, do not mess with this guy you will die dangerous. His design is so amazing the purple is perfect (the lack of contrast works perfectly here) and the mask covering his face makes him look inhuman in the best way possible. We humans are wired to connect with facial expressions, and you've completely removed anything resembling a face in a way that somehow manages to be the right kind of creepy. It's *chef's kiss*.

The tatters on his cloak and the pose make him look...playful, almost? But not in the "Let's have fun" way, in the "You're in my world now" way. Yeah, that works. It is actually amazing.

And also just the image asks so many questions. Who is this person? What are they protecting? Why? What are they? Why is the viewer here? Why are there tatters on their cloak? Why the mask? What's the symbol on it? What even is this place? This is the kind of image that could be put on a cover to draw in readers.

Also it's not clear what genre we're in in this image and it's perfect. It fits with the mystery. Now, anyone who sees the context of this image knows it's a Superhero AU, but honestly that just makes it better. The image looks like it belongs in some kind of fantasy world, and that asks so many questions about the AU. How does the fantasy and the superheroes mix? Is this magic or something else? It just asks more questions.

Anyways I love this art and I'm really excited to see where you take this AU.

Aww thanks!

I love adding little details to pieces like these, especially in the composition or background.

I'm cooking up something big, I cant say when It'll be finished but I'm looking forward to it!

[ranticore]

im so curious about the kitchen nightmares au, is félix a waiter? are erica and jean creating crimes against the culinary arts in the back? why is esk of all people gordon ramsay

relevant background info was that when i first got my ipad and was getting to grips with procreate, i was also drafting the first go at mvf so i was drawing mostly refs and character designs, and while i was doing that on an ipad i realised that i could, for the first time ever, watch something on another screen while drawing. guess what i watched

this super old art was one of my first paintings all in procreate and i did it while watching kitchen nightmares. love the show (uk version only), it's absolutely terrible and fake and ramsay sucks but something Compels me

i drew a series of fake interview portraits for all main characters of mvf, as different staff members in a failing restaurant on the show. esk who was kind of the straight man/critical voice of the group ended up being the celebrity chef

anyway the basic plot is they work at a tacky outdated italian trattoria with all that entails, that serves french cuisine, in the year 2005. the restaurant was a money laundering front owned by helena but she was an absentee owner who would deny any claim over the restaurant flaws and be generally away & uncooperative

the restaurant was failing because it looked awful and the food was not good but also because the staff could not work well with one another and the constant arguments that customers would overhear was turning them off

the person who called in gordon ramsnake was the restaurant manager, Félix, in a very roundabout attempt to try to bring heat down on Helena

general overview of the staff & their flaws

Manager (Félix) - actively embezzling from the business, basically a middle manager tyrant trying to control everyone else, ambition of becoming the owner one day (and then they'll ALL see). Would deflect the blame for the restaurant's issues onto every single other person except Francis because he can do no wrong ever. Aw jeez guys we just don't know where the money is going!! Don't look at his meticulously-kept, well-hidden balance books or his incongruously nice car. He looks like the sleaziest businessman you have ever seen.

Head Chef (Jean, you guessed right) - confrontational and rude, could not accept criticism no matter what and would pick fights with customers who sent the food back. He could cook decently but only to his own schedule and preference. The type to go "my food is perfect and nobody can teach me anything" before esk convinces the owner to hire a new head chef who can actually listen to feedback. His prized menu hasn't changed in 7 years.

Front of House (Islin) - zero charm or charisma but otherwise pretty sincere, though it IS weird that an ordained priest is working here and not in a church somewhere. He explains in an interview around the back of the restaurant that he's identified a new route to finding converts because just knocking on people's doors hasn't had a good return. He has zero interest in any aspect of the restaurant experience. Attempts to preach to most of the diners.

Head Waiter (Erica) - he's clearly had no training and is never where he's supposed to be at any given time, and it almost looks like he's ambushing the diners while they're mid-bite on purpose. Calculated bare-minimum work while spending most of his time in the kitchens for some reason. In the course of the episode it's discovered that he makes a decent cook and gets relocated. He had a habit of telling customers that the food was bad even if it wasn't.

Barman (Francis) - eager to please and maybe the only truly friendly face in the restaurant, he's the only reason anyone comes back. But he has an inconvenient habit of giving steep discounts to women, so the bar almost never turns a profit. There have been a few complaints about Barman's inappropriate advances from diners & the fact that his shirt is always a little bit too open. He seems to believe that there's nothing wrong with the place and it's a perfectly legit successful business, so it's hard to get through to him to change his behaviour. Won't hear a word of criticism against Félix or Islin.

Sous-chef (Léá) - hates it here hates every second of every day can't stand anyone wants to be out of there asap but she knows she lacks the experience to actually be a sous-chef in a legitimate restaurant, which means she'd take a pay cut if she tried to find work anywhere else, so she's trapped. She has a habit of throwing parsley garnish far too liberally over every single dish because she read in a book from the 90s that this is how you get a Michelin star

Rival Restaurateur (Senca) - she runs an equally tacky fake unpopular italian trattoria across the street and she's been trying to get Helena's one shut down for years by doing various etsy badluck curses and getting the hygiene inspectors called on them but it hasn't worked yet. She suggested to Félix that maybe trying to get the restaurant on TV would draw enough negative attention to get it shut down (and then he could reopen it of course). She's a bit surprised he actually went and did it even though the show could not have been less flattering towards him and he's essentially turbo-nuked his own reputation into the dirt forever. But she's waiting behind the scenes to make an insultingly-cheap offer and then they'll ALL see

over the course of the episode the above flaws are identified. esk attempts to propose a remodel of the tired décor which is fiercely resisted by Félix because he kind of likes the fake tuscany look but eventually he gives in and the place is given a modern and fresh feel. it draws a crowd on its reopening night but the staff struggle to meet the demand, unused to such numbers, and it ends up with Jean refusing to cook and walking out (he's fired shortly after).

they regroup and organise a charming promo event where they serve real french cuisine in a stall outside (oysters mostly) to draw customers for a new lunchtime service. this is well-received because new Head Chef Léa (now even MORE trapped in a role she has no real claim to) doesn't have to cook the oysters so she can't fuck them up. Félix actually tries to be receptive to the staff he's managing, for once, and he does a good job of supporting them and finally effectively managing the floor.

episode ends with Esk walking away and wondering if it left the restaurant in good hands, concluding that "only time will tell". there's a sequence of the restaurant's one successful lunch service, everyone smiling and working well and diners happy, with the text "RESTAURANT closed its business in August 2005, three months after the filming of this episode".

Esk goes back to interview the owner and ask why it failed, and Helena just explains that she sold it and moved on while dodging every other question. Esk berates her for having no passion for the business, calls her lazy and immature, and she simply walks out of the interview.

[rewritingtales]

"careful  what  you  wish  for.  if  a  big  enough  group  bands  together,  you  might  have  some  actual  trouble  on  your  hands.  not  that  you're  going  around  seeking  trouble,  but  if  i  was  a  part  of  a  trio  of  brothers  that  you  attacked  i  might  be  cooking  something  up."  if  the  brothers  come  knocking  on  his  door,  he'll  actually  tell  them  to  leave  him  alone.  no  zeke  meant  no  help  for  rory.  the  old  man  certaintly  doesn't  know  how  to  raise  or  help  a  young  wolf  all  by  his  lonesome. 

he  needs  zeke. 

vilem  tilts  his  head  as  he  thinks  about  it.  on  one  hand,  it's  unfair  because  he  has  all  of  the  knowledge  that  he's  gained  years  later.  on  the  other  hand,  he  remembers  being  really  aroused  by  the  wolf  and  that  beating  out  any  other  sense  of  logic.  if  he  had  told  him  in  the  heat  of  the  moment,  during  foreplay,  perhaps  he  wouldn't  have  cared  too  much.  once  his  dick  is  hard  he  needs  to  release  somehow.  whether  it's  in  a  monster  or  human.  the  weakness  of  being  human!  “we'll  never  know.  i  never  got  the  chance  to  react  to  it  until  after  we  had  already,  well,  you  know.  there's  no  use  in  revisiting  that  anyway.  maybe  i  would've  just  fucked  you  harder  since  i  know  that  you  can  handle  it.”  he  chuckles  softly,  a  snort  slipping  through  his  lips  but  being  quieted  as  much  as  possible.  zeke's  right,  it  shouldn't  matter.  still,  the  farmer  has  his  faults  just  like  everyone  else.  “but  it  does.”  he  nods  a  bit,  not  wanting  to  get  in  between  the  man  and  his  respect.  “do  you  ever  think  there's  going  to  be  another,  at  least  in  these  parts?  maybe  someone  you  turn  is  going  to  be  even  bigger  and  badder  than  you  are.”  although  he's  really  not  interested  in  being  around  long  enough  to  see  that,  he  still  ponders  that  every  now  and  then.  “do  you  want  me  to  comb  my  fingers  through  your  hair  while  i  lay  you  down  on  a  couple  of  blankets?”  again,  another  half  joke.  apparently,  since  vilem  can't  talk  to  the  animals  nor  the  crops  his  part  is  quite  easy.  as  much  as  he  can  see,  they're  all  alright,  so  he  just  cuts  down  some  of  the  ones  that  are  good  for  picking.  there's  some  evening  primrose,  tobacco  leaves,  night  phlox,  and  moonflower  that  smell  just  good  enough  to  pick.  the  farmer  puts  them  all  in  the  basket  before  moving  over  to  the  fruits  and  vegetables.  some  corn,  broccoli,  tomatoes,  strawberries,  grapes,  and  peaches  are  also  ready.  he  brings  the  basket  back  and  notices  that  zeke  is  all  wrapped  up  too.  “if  you  think  i'm  picky  and  needy,  you  haven't  seen  the  half  of  it  yet  on  the  farm.  i'm  done  with  the  crops  though.”  vilem  leans  the  basket  over,  showing  it  to  zeke.  “thank  you  for  your  help.  do  you  want  me  to  make  a  little  basket  for  you?”  does  a  wolf  even  eat  fruit  or  vegetables?  “you  can  just  wait  here  for  rory.  it's  getting  late.” 

"my  victims  can  try."  there  ...weren't  many  alive,  maybe  even  less  than  he  imagined  given  that  knights,  hunters  &  woodsmen  were  out  for  their  hides.  he  may  be  able  to  protect  little  rory,  but  he  couldn't  protect  them  all.  protecting  anybody  wasn't  his  job  either.  nobody  protected  him,  so  why  should  he?  he'd  lived  a-many  years  in  this  forest  to  work  his  way  to  the  top;  he  wasn't  always  the  big  bad  wolf.  once  upon  a  time  he  was  the  tiny  bad  wolf  puppy  &  that  little  puppy  got  hurt,  so  it  learned  to  adapt  to  be  one  step  ahead  of  everybody  else  (humans).

zeke  doesn't  trust  humans.

or  anybody  really.

he  never  did,  but  every  time  he  went  one  step  closer  to  opening  up  to  the  idea  to  try,  someone  cut  him  &  he  pulled  away  further  than  before.  he  also  didn't  believe  humans,  including  vilem  telling  him  he'd  have  been  fine  knowing  what  zeke  was  back  then.  fucking  lie.  he  still  hated  his  kind  despite  a  loved  one  being  pretty  much  the  same  thing,  so  years  ago?  zeke  would've  been  kicked  out  on  his  ass  with  arrows  in  it  before  he  could  say  moon.  not  that  it  mattered  much  now,  especially  because  zeke  didn't  regret  it.  well,  the  not-telling.  the  hooking  up  he  definitely  regretted.  big  time.  "i  don't  believe  you.  easy  to  say  now,  but  you  chased  me  out  like  i  ate  your  dog's  puppies."  zeke  would've  been  on  his  way  home  before  he  took  off  his  shirt.  nah.  he'd  done  the  right  thing.  "besides,  shouldn't  matter  what  i  am."  because  what  he  was  didn't  change  anything  about  what  they  did.  eh  no  use  in  crying  over  spilt  milk.  "i  earned  the  title  and  the  rest  respect.  or  fear.  i  deserve  to  be  smug  about  it."  he  knew  he  was  different  from  most  &  if  you  asked  him,  that  was  a  good  thing.  he  was  sure  there  were  things  out  there  able  to  best  him  -  maybe  even  easily  so,  but  until  these  being  came  knocking  down  his  door,  he  pretended  like  there  weren't.  "comfortable,  huh?  who  makes  sure  i'm  comfy  enough  to  sleep?"  zeke  huffed,  eyeing  the  other  shortly  before  trotting  off  with  the  bag  of  food  to  do  as  told  &  promised.  feeding  them  was  easy,  but  the  comfortable  part?  he  wondered  how  vilem  did  that  daily.  the  wolf  made  sure  to  ask  everybody  if  they  were  comfortable  enough;  most  were,  but  some  had  very  special  needs  &  wants.  one  sheep  wanted  to  cuddle,  one  of  the  cows  demanded  a  bedtime  story,  two  of  the  chickens  wanted  their  bellies  scratched.  he'd  never  regretted  being  able  to  speak  to  animals  before  today.  when  everybody's  wishes  were  fulfilled,  he  returned  to  the  house,  empty  food  bag  with  him.  he  stifled  a  little  yawn  when  the  other  joined  him,  "thought  i'd  be  a  lot  faster  than  you,  but  your  animals  have  wants.  you  all  done?  need  any  help  with  the  crops?"

[two-entire-bits]

mar-bit headcanons because I have been consumed <3

Marcia steals his leather jacket all the time. He thinks it's the cutest thing ever

once Two-Bit got jumped and knocked out and Marcia was the first one to find him and he made one of those stupid "holy shit I musta died and gone to heaven cuz there's an angel in front of me" jokes when he woke up and saw her

Marcia's really good at school and especially loves science, but has a hard time understanding new math concepts (although once she gets them down she's off and running) and Two-Bit is surprisingly good at math for some reason (he doesn't try in school but he does put in 0.000001 mL of effort so he can pass and move on to the next level. but only barely) so he explains the concepts to her without making her feel stupid

Marcia knows Two likes blondes and once joked about bleaching her hair and he was horrified at the concept.

Marcia's really good at chess?? Like really good. Two-Bit has no clue how to play and he is too confused by how it works to start learning now.

Marcia LOVES to be carried around by Two ALL THE TIME. She wants to make some dinner? Two-Bit is bridal-style carrying her down the stairs from her room to the kitchen. She wants to get snacks at the movies? Piggy-back ride to the concession stand.

the latter style also gives her an excuse to kiss his head and mess up & play with his hair

She carries an old makeup compact with his favorite hair grease and a comb with her at all times in case of an "emergency" (when she messes up his hair)

He also carries around some of her makeup in his jacket in case she ever forgets it

Marcia WILL kiss his face all over and she WILL get lipstick stains everywhere and he will NOT remove it. absolutely refuses to.

He also will reapply her lipstick for her after such cases

They love doing as much as possible for each other that way, they love just taking care of each other and holding each other and being in love and also being silly about it

THEY'RE THE TYPE OF COUPLE TO DO THAT TWO-STRAWS-ONE-MILKSHAKE THING

He'll also do her nails (traits achieved by having a little sister) and he loves it because he gets to focus on something and they just take turns rambling

He steals stuff for her all the time (she finds it endearing) but the two times he didn't was when he got her a gift for her first birthday after they started dating (she then reassured him he didn't have to spend money on her just because it's a special occasion) and when he got her an engagement ring

He proposed to her at the drive-in (or where it used to be if it closed down)

Marcia and Two-Bit's sister (Tammy (short for Tamara (Two-Bit calls her Tamster))) get along slightly too well for Two's liking. they plot against him

It took Tammy a while to warm up to her but once she did they were an unstoppable force

Marcia will take her out to the mall to try stuff on and have a "girls day" every couple of months but Tammy refuses to let Marcia buy her anything so Marcia will report back to Two and he'll go out and steal things Tammy liked

I don't know if she'd go BUT if she did Marcia would help Tammy get ready for her school formal/homecoming/prom and teach her how to do makeup and Two-Bit literally cannot find the words to thank her enough because Tammy looks so happy and he never could've done that, not because he didn't want to, because he didn't know how, it's the 60's and he's a guy, she's a girl, yeah he's her brother but he has no clue how to make her comfortable in her femininity and such, and it just makes him love Marcia even more

Two-Bit actually learned how to cook a few meals because he felt like he had to give back to Marcia for loving him

He also picks up after himself when he's at her house even though he never does at home because he feels bad

Two-Bit has a big expectation of himself that he has to be happy and active and always moving and keeping up everybody else's spirits all the time that when Marcia does something nice for him or just holds him he's caught so off guard. he needs to be the little spoon sometimes okay.

Like he's so used to taking up space but with her he can just feel small and exist

He loves the gang and is so much more himself around them but he still has a Role and Marcia is on a whole other level of Two-Bit-esque weird that he can like, completely unmask with her once they've been together long enough

Early on he'd do something weird around her without thinking and go like "well, shit." because when he gets to be Too Much Himself it's driven people away in the past but then she finds it funny or endearing or she just doesn't react at all and he falls even more in love with her

It took him a long time to really learn that he didn't owe Marcia anything in exchange for her love

Marcia just wants to hold him sometimes also. In my head her parents are often absent and she doesn't have any siblings, so she'll just touch him or hold onto him a lot to reassure herself he's there and he's not leaving

Marcia will come over to Two-Bit's house sometimes and help make dinner or clean with his mom (they also get along well) or just spend time with all of them and it took them all awhile to not think of it as charity but Marcia just liked feeling like she actually had a family

They have THE most extrapolatory nicknames for each other. It starts off tame but it evolves to the point where their names and the nicknames have barely anything in common

on my dancer Two-Bit bullshit forever Marcia's house has a piano and she'll play music for him to dance to

this man has not missed one of Marcia's barrel races ever. he's there way earlier than he needs to be he stays until she leaves he is the loudest person on the bleachers.

Marcia started watching Mickey Mouse so Two-Bit would have someone to talk to about it

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

have you ever wanted to write paranoid ford

here’s some aspects of our paranoia (and paranoid thinking as a result) that you can use to make him a tad more accurate. of course this doesn’t speak for everyone- but it’s stuff that could help if you have no idea where to start

-if the character’s shower has a curtain, checking both sides before even daring to turn it on. yes, both sides. yes, you do look both up and down. yes, this is an important step that must be repeated every single time to avoid death (in the character’s mind, anyhow)

-on that note, having a bunch of little rules that only apply to them. don’t go in this one room or you die. don’t walk around past x time or you die. be exceedingly careful when opening x kind of door or you die. must sleep with x thing or you die. things like that

-long walks into buildings, especially in open areas. quicken your step, lest someone follow behind. you think they’ll kill you if they catch up. quick quick quick, little rabbit, quick quick quick

-cars. cars driving by (‘what if they shoot me?’), someone sitting in a parked car (‘they’re waiting to run me over’), cars cars cars cars cars

-leaving house. leads you to open spaces, many opportunities to die

-darkness. you cannot see what is coming to kill you

-thinking that there is ALWAYS something coming to kill you

-startling whenever someone pulls out a sharp object near you. they may be cooking. they may just have turned slightly too much towards you when pulling out scissors to open a package. either way, regardless of who it was, regardless of how much you trust them, you fully thought you were about to be gutted like a fish for a moment there

-always keeping your curtains drawn, your blinds closed (‘so they can’t see me’)

-hatred of being looked at (‘why? are you going to do something? if you hadn’t noticed me, there would have been zero chance of you killing me. now it’s gone up slightly’)

-anxiety. always imagining worst case scenario

-flinching when going down hallways and such too fast (‘what if there’s something waiting to kill me around the corner or a fucking spike or something is going to spear me through the skull if i go too fast’)

-*notices one tiny blemish on food* ‘this is going to kill me. i am not eating this. i will die’

-trying to appease invisible forces in order to convince them not to kill you. may include talking to nothing

-if you have objects with eyes or eye-like features in your house, turning them completely away from you when doing something you deem personal and/or important

-going to bed? keep all hands and feet within the ride at all times. you’re sure you’ll die otherwise

-staying in a hotel? you might find yourself focusing on the faint lights of the clock or alarm. you might find yourself focusing on them because you’re sure they’re going to kill you

-‘it’s not paranoia if something’s really out to get you’ and you’re damn sure there is (if only you had concrete evidence so people would believe you…)

-everything is a gamble with staying alive. this thing might lead to your death. this thing makes you fear dying. this thing makes you feel like you have one strike left before you meet your end

-for no reason at all, going to bed and thinking ‘i hope they kill me while i’m asleep so i don’t have to be awake for my death that is surely coming tonight’

-goes without saying, but suspicious of everyone. very hard to get you to trust that someone has your best interests in mind (for example: paranoid ford trusting stan and stan alone to help him, being terrified of anyone else)

-delusions. example from us: actively shutting off your train of thought anytime someone gets too close cause you’re sure they can hear your thoughts and you don’t want them to see anything that could put you in danger (you also just don’t want them to look at those in general)

[skrrtscree]

burn my dread 💀💙

[redraw of sorts of official art, the og under the cut]

[deoidesign]

I met the me who made different choices

[dirtytransmasc]

the Sully kids' reaction to Jake saying Spider "knew everything" breaks my heart.

they knew him better than anyone else, better than their parents. they knew his love for Eywa, for Pandora, for The People, for the clan, for their family. they knew he would never tell the RDA anything... not willingly at least.

they knew they were leaving because Spider would be tortured for information, he'd be forced to reveal their home, their plans, their numbers, their weaknesses. their brother would be tortured and they were being forced to leave him behind.

they knew they were being forced to find a new home, without their brother, because their dad knew he would be tortured.

[rosemaryreality]

Guys I'm crying why does the official translation make it sound like Megumi wants to live that housewife lifestyle