#i am stupidly unobservant

[achilleanauthor]

How the fuck am I only noticing now that you made this post?

[auroramancy]

Am I just stupidly unobservant or when did reblog additions start getting indexed by search and tagging ???

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

1, 8 21. Tendou/Kagami.

1. “Do you want me to stop?” 8. “Are you hungry?” 21. “Do you promise?”

Souji’s an attractive man in general, but there’s something about his legs in particular that just makes Arata completely lose his mind. It’s not just that they’re good legs, although they are incredibly good legs--it’s that there seems to be a lot of them. Arata’s not sure how that works, since Souji’s not actually much taller than him, but he’s not going to argue with it.

They’re in bed. They’re not even doing anything, too drowsy and slow to bother with anything past the pleasure of proximity. Souji is very nearly asleep, in fact, his head on Arata’s arm and his back against Arata’s chest. The way his eyelashes lie against his cheekbones when he closes his eyes is very slightly intoxicating. Arata’s only slightly more awake, and using most of his wakefulness to look at Souji.

What an amazing thing, he thinks, sleepily, getting to look at him like this.

“Mm?”

“Shit, did I say that out loud?”

“Did you not mean to? I appreciated hearing it.”

“Because you’re vain.”

“I am not vain,” Souji says, with as much dignity as he can manage while he’s half asleep, which is admittedly a lot. "I just enjoy hearing your voice."

"Especially when I'm complimenting you."

Souji says nothing to that, just radiates self-satisfaction.

It’s frustratingly attractive. Arata’s going to die of how beautiful he is, and how little distance has to be covered to run a hand down his side like he’s a cat to be petted. Which he responds to by shifting slightly into the touch and making himself more comfortable, and maybe Arata’s not as tired as he thought. So--a kiss pressed to the back of Souji’s neck, which gets a small pleased noise,and then a slow trail of fingers down ribs and stomach and hip to stupidly perfect thigh.

Souji twitches away from him for a moment.

Arata frowns. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, by all means.” Souji also sounds slightly more awake. “Continue.”

“You twitched, though, did I do something that hurt? Do you have a bruise that I didn’t see or something?”

“Not at all, I’m fine.”

Frowning, Arata flexes his hand, enjoying feeling the outline of Souji’s muscles under his skin, and Souji twitches again, and realization dawns. “Are you ticklish?”

There’s a slightly-too-long pause before Souji says, “I am not.” He’s still turned away, but just enough of his face is visible to see that his eyes have gone wide.

“Oh, you liar.” Arata grins against Souji’s shoulder and drags a finger back up Souji’s leg, and Souji squirms. “You are ticklish. I found a weakness on the, the path of heaven.”

“You’ve found nothing of the--hmm.” Souji claps a hand over his mouth as Arata’s fingertips spider-walk back up his side. “You’re a cruel man,” he says into his palm, voice shaking with heavily-suppressed laughter.

“Why, because I think it’s kind of cute when you actually laugh?”

“There are oth-other ways,” and he bites down on the side of his hand for a moment, “there are other ways to make me laugh. Ones which don’t involve tormenting me.”

--

For once, Arata is awake first, probably because he drank too much coffee in the evening. It’s early, not long after sunrise, so he’s quiet as he goes to the bathroom, not wanting Juka to wake up and see him. Not that she doesn’t know, really, but she very politely pretends not to notice, and the fiction’s easier to maintain when he’s not coming out of her brother’s bedroom at quarter of six in the morning, wearing her brother’s bathrobe.

When he comes back from the bathroom, he stops in the bedroom doorway for a moment and just looks. Souji asleep is a precious sight, both in that he’s normally the first one awake and because he’s rarely so obviously vulnerable. He lies on his side, very still, the sheets stark white against his skin--he picked up a tan in France, and has maintained it since his return to Japan. Because, despite his insistence otherwise, he’s vain.

“I enjoy how you look at me,” he says when Arata gets back in bed, voice slurred a bit with sleep.

“I enjoy looking at you. You have amazing bedhead, it’s adorable.” Before the inevitable protest to the contrary, Arata continues with, “Are you hungry?”

“Slightly, but I’m not inclined to get up yet.”

“You don’t have to, I’ll make something and bring it to you. Breakfast in bed.”

Souji’s eyes open immediately, and Arata isn’t sure whether to be charmed or offended by his look of surprise. “You’re offering to cook for me?”

“Is that such a weird idea?”

“It’s...unexpected.”

“Well, it’s not like I know how to cook all the nice traditional stuff you do, but I know some Western recipes. You know, uh, pancakes. Denver omelette.”

“Fascinating. What’s the provenance of this unexpected knowledge?”

“American exchange student I knew at university, he taught me how to cook a few things--and I just realized that he was definitely flirting with me the whole time. Wow, I feel kind of dumb for not catching that.”

“Slightly unobservant, perhaps. It did take you some time to notice when it was me.”

“It didn’t take me that long to--” Arata trails off at Souji’s raised eyebrow. “You...had to get more direct, didn’t you. You were flirting with me for way longer than I realized.”

“Bingo, as your American friend might say. It was very charming.” Abruptly Souji’s face is illuminated by one of his soft smiles, made all the more beautiful by the extravagant mess of his curls. “I would appreciate pancakes and an omelette, if you’re so inclined.”

Arata nods, as seriously as possible. “Your wish is my command.”

--

Souji has never been in the habit of uncertainty, but Kagami Arata has a particular talent for catching him off-guard. With his strength, with his patience, with his breathtaking fury at the unkind world. With the curve of his fingers around Zecter or briefcase handle or Souji’s wrist. With the shape of his mouth, at the moment reddened from kissing and redder from biting his own lip, because even more than Souji, he is dedicated to not making so much noise that they wake Juka up.

Not being in the habit of uncertainty, Souji had never previously realized how pleasurable it could be under the right circumstances. This was clearly a mistake, and one he is privately, deliriously glad to have rectified, because had that not happened he wouldn’t be here now, in his own bed with Arata’s fingers digging into his thighs and one of his own hands gripping the headboard as he moves.

Sex isn’t the only context in which he appreciates Arata’s company, of course, but he likes the way in which it’s his alone, something which he can be certain Arata won’t share with anyone else. And more than that, the breathless tranquility of after sex, in which he is now lying comfortably with his head on Arata’s shoulder and saying, “I think this is the moment I look forward to most when I’m with you.”

“So the thing you like best about having sex with me is when it’s over? That’s flattering.” Said entirely without ire, in fact with an undercurrent of laughter, and even then followed with, “No, I know what you mean. This is good.” A pause. “Not to get really serious about things all of a sudden, but I hope we’ve still got this in, like, thirty years.”

“Thirty years is insufficient,” Souji murmurs against the side of his neck. “I will accept nothing less than forever.”

He feels, rather than hears, the catch of breath, and what Arata says, as his arm pulls more tightly around Souji’s shoulders is, “Do you promise?”

[pinkconkonut]

Am I just stupidly unobservant, or did the Tumblr font always look like that?

[dandelion-star]

bye I'm actually so embarrassed from how stupidly unobservant I am☠ Xiao moment.

[raendown]

Chapter: 4/8 Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 1345 Summary: After having his eyes opened in a sudden - and violent - manner, Madara immediately begins his wooing of one Senju Tobirama.

It turns out, however, that Uchiha courting rituals are rather…unique.

Madara would say it’s going well. Tobirama would say something entirely different.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Love Done Right: Chapter 4

Up until the messenger came barreling in to his office chattering like a frightened squirrel, Tobirama’s morning had been going rather well. There had been no emergencies, he hadn’t made anyone cry yet, and Hashirama had been suspiciously well-focused on his own paperwork for once. All in all it had been fairly peaceful right up until the moment his office door had crashed open to admit a terrified looking man wearing a striped band around his arm marking him as a page.

“Tobirama-sama there’s been a disturbance in the marketplace. We need your help; please come quickly!”

He was up out of his chair and marching out of the office before he had the better sense to question things. As the messenger trotted along behind him, Tobirama cut through the babble and got straight to the point.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Madara-sama. He lit fire to the side of that little bakery on the east side of the market!”

“He what!? That fool!”

Since it seemed the situation was more serious than he thought, Tobirama recognized that quicker action would be required. Without bothering to stop and bring the messenger along with him he reached for one of the markers he had hidden around the marketplace and stepped through space only to appear in the next instant a mere two blocks away from where he was needed.

Arriving on the scene told him that he didn’t quite understand everything about what was going on here – and that he absolutely did not want to either. Madara stood next to the healthy little fire he had created with his hands on his hips and a proud smile stretching from ear to ear. When he sensed Tobirama arriving he turned to beam at the newcomer, not an ounce of shame or regret to be found on his face. He was clearly under the impression that Tobirama wasn’t about to mutilate him.

“Uchiha,” Tobirama growled, shoving their faces up close, “what is going here?”

“I made a fire!”

“Yes I can see that. Why?”

“For you; why else?”

Left eye twitching, Tobirama nearly bit his tongue off chewing over those words. Whatever this idiot’s issue was, it seemed that he was in the mood to be sarcastic rather than allow a rational mind to help with his clear mental problems. Not that he would have gotten much help. Just because that innocent smile of his was surprisingly cute did not mean that Tobirama was willing to forgo kicking his ass over this.

His own thoughts jerked him upright rather suddenly and Tobirama whipped himself around to face the fire instead. Had he just thought of Madara as cute? Unacceptable. Now the idiot was invading his own head and that deserved a much more serious punishment. It was time to break out the big guns for this. Tobirama smiled a very unfriendly smile as he brought his hands together, gathering much more chakra than was necessary for dealing with such a tiny little flame. Behavior such as this called for the worst punishment he could think of: he would definitely be siccing Hashirama on this imbecile later.

Due to how irritated he found himself, Tobirama felt it was nothing less than understandable that he allow himself to vent a little against something he couldn’t really harm. The wall of the bakery looked fairly sturdy with its thick stone base, thankfully, so it hardly even bent very much at all when his admittedly excessive water jutsu crashed in to it, spraying the gathered onlookers and soaking Madara from head to toe.

It also put out the fire but at this point that was almost a tertiary interest to Tobirama.

“There. Are you satisfied?” he snarled in his antagonist’s direction. Madara’s face had a dreamy, floaty look to it.

“More than satisfied, yes.”

Glaring as hard as he could, Tobirama curled his fingers in to claws and stomped away without another word. Madara had always been an annoying little shit but it appeared his younger sibling’s sass was finally rubbing off on him. One more word out of him and Tobirama really would have committed that murder without regret. Every one of these incidents brought him closer and closer.

The image of Madara’s stupidly adorable smile haunted him throughout the rest of his day, serving only to irritate him further. How dare that boob invade his thoughts in this manner?

 -

 Although he truly did mean to go straight home, Madara’s emotions were riding just a little too high on the success of his brilliant idea earlier. Somehow he found himself wandering aimlessly through the streets of the Uchiha district as he tried to calm his racing heart. Today had certainly been a day to remember. Between his intended’s response and finally getting revenge against that stupid bakery it was a wonder he didn’t float straight up in to the sky with happiness. Had anyone in history ever been as in love as he was right now?

Probably, but he easily ignored that thought. Clearly his love was superior.

“Madara-sama!” He turned at the sound of a voice calling him from behind to find one of his distant, half related cousins hurrying towards him.

“Hikaku,” he greeted with a short nod.

“Our whole clan is buzzing with the news! They say you’ve been spotted courting Senju Tobirama!”

Puffing up his chest with pride once more, Madara attempted a haughty look and hoped that his lingering soppy smile didn’t ruin the effect. “I am. Things are progressing wonderfully. He made his response to my gift today.”

Hikaku listened excitedly as he recounted everything which had happened so far, looking more and more impressed with every word. By the time Madara finished telling him about today’s successful events the young man was positively green with envy yet he still appeared happy for his clan head.

“I must say, I certainly didn’t expect to hear that things were going quite so well,” Hikaku said after digesting everything he’d heard. “Such an impressive jutsu today could only mean that he’s accepting your advances! You could propose tomorrow and he would most certainly say yes!” Madara spluttered with embarrassment at the very thought.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not going to propose tomorrow! It’s still just a bit too soon. Tobirama deserves things done the right way and he hasn’t given me the traditional indication that he’s ready for that just yet. Soon, hopefully.”

“Well allow me to offer you my congratulations, Madara-sama. May your future together be a happy one.”

Watching the man bow, Madara used the time unobserved to pat at his cheeks and hope that he wasn’t blushing as obviously as it felt like he was. It seemed this courtship business would be the ruin of his reputation as an unfeeling man but he couldn’t truly bring himself to regret it. At least Tobirama was able to see how seriously he was taking this; if it was that clear to his entire clan then surely the whole village could see it too. It was a wonder Hashirama hadn’t tried to interfere yet, although Madara counted his blessings on that front.

Hikaku straightened and offered him a congenial smile, to which Madara harrumphed and nodded in his usual manner. Just because his reputation was changing didn’t mean he had to let anyone think he was going soft. Clearing his throat, he let his eyes slide off to one side and tried to affect the same old distant expression he generally used to interact with other people.

“Yes, well. I must be going now. Need to speak with Izuna. He’s taken a great interest in all of this, you see.”

Rather than wait for his cousin to reply, Madara spun on his heel and hurried off in the direction of home, where he should have been heading in the first place. He couldn’t wait to tell Izuna how well Tobirama had responded to him today. Hopefully his brother would have a few suggestions for how to proceed now that the courtship had officially been offered and accepted.

[ellanainthetardis]

prompt: effie, katniss, and johanna go out and jo starts asking them inappropriate questions about their partners (ahem) sizes

I feel like I should apologize to Peeta for this cracky one ;) [X]

Of Sizes, Tequila & Content Cats

“This is a bad idea.” Katniss winced, watchingJohanna walking back from the bar with a bottle of what Effie suspected to betequila, three glasses, salt and lemons.

“Drinking with Johanna is always a bad idea.” she agreed, still unsure she had been right tolet Seven’s victor convince her to go out.

Twelve’s bar was fairly new. It dated from the rebuildingand it was packed with the local youth, workers that wanted a drink after theirlong day and regulars glued to their stools. It was noisy and crowded in a waythat had Katniss making faces as soon as they had put a food inside.

It was something of a familiar scene to Effiebut she still felt a bit uncomfortable. She had problems with closed spacessince the war and the smell wasn’t helping any. It reeked of sweat, ale and friedfood.

“Don’t spoil my fun.” Jo rebuked them as soonas she managed to reach the table they had chosen in the far corner. “You needto loosen up.” She pointed a finger at Katniss and then switched target toEffie. “And what’s your problem? Theplace’s not fancy enough for you?”

She shot the victor a brief glare.

Johanna had dropped in Twelve out of the bluewith little to no explanation. Haymitch figured she had bolted, that living inFour with Annie and a toddler had become too much. Seven’s victor claimed shewas on a Tour. She had gone to her own District apparently, then to Two tovisit Gale… She was floating around and was refusing to tell anyone what wasthe real problem.

Effie wished she would just spill it instead ofdragging her and Katniss out like it was an usual thing for them to do.

“We’re getting wasted.” Jo warned them, pouringthe tequila.

“I don’t know…” Katniss made a face. “I wassick forever last time.”

“That’s part of the fun. Right, Trinket?”Johanna dismissed.

“I would not say that.” she snorted. “But itwould be nice to have Haymitch being at my own hangovered beck and call for achange.”

And she had always been unable to resisttequila. She had a love/hate relationship with tequila. It was always fun onthe moment but there was always hell to pay in the morning. Of course, itwasn’t as terrible as vodka. Vodka was very, very bad for her…

She was reluctant to drink more than wasreasonable with Katniss right there. She felt a need to be responsible andproper in front of the girl.

Resisting Johanna was impossible though.

She might be more stubborn than she was and all the goading and mockinghad always made Effie eager to prove the younger woman wrong.

Katniss gave up on the tequila long before they did.

The longer the evening went, the more certainEffie was she would deeply regret it in the morning. She was vaguely aware ofKatniss half lying on the table, still conscious but claiming she was too tiredto sit straight… She was vaguely aware of teaming up with Johanna to tacklesome men, who had though they would be easy preys, at pool – they were not – and making a scene out of it thatwould have people talking for weeks…Alcohol made her flirty and seductive and she made quite a few comments toyounger men and to a couple of girls that she would be ashamed of once she soberedup… But the worst was the cigarette Johanna handed her and that she lit upwithout a second thought only to realize Katniss was staring at her with wideeyes…

“You smoke.” the girl half-stated, half-reproved.

“And they say you’re unobservant, brainless.”Jo cackled.

And for some reason, Effie laughed too becauseit seemed very funny. Katniss sulked for a second and then started chuckling,apparently not sure why.

That was the point Effie decided they shouldhead back before they were entirely too wasted to walk. Johanna protested butshe insisted. It wasn’t like back in the days: there would be no calling a carto drive them safely back home. Besides, it was late and they were alone.

Granted, she doubted anyone would dare attackthe Mockingjay and Johanna Mason butmen were idiots and they were all wearing stupidly frilly outfits.

It was only once they were outside the bar andtried to remember which way the Village was that Effie realized it might havebeen a bit too late for being careful.

“I’m toasted.” Jo snickered, wrapping her armaround Katniss’ shoulders and leaning heavily against the girl as they took awrong turn for the third time.

Effie was trying hard to sober up and focus butthe streets all looked the same to her at the moment and she couldn’t rememberif they were supposed to turn left or right at the bakery. Katniss wasabsolutely not helpful.

“I want to go home.” the girl lamented, pushing Jo away. “Peeta’s waiting…”

“Yeah?” Johanna taunted, wriggling hereyebrows. “You think you’re going to get some?”

“Jo!” Effie chided, her cheeks flushing red.

“Don’t be such a prude!” Seven’s victorscoffed. “It’s not like Haymitch isn’t fucking you left and right.”

Katniss blanched. “I’m going to be sick.”

Through the sheer providence of a miracle,Effie spotted the meadow in the distance. She wasn’t sure it was a good thingbut it certainly was better than stumbling on the bakery again. Progress.

“Oh, come on…” Johanna snickered. “You’re a biggirl now, Katniss. What do you think they do all day in that house?” She liftedher eyebrows and nudged Effie. “Or you’re finally done with the sex? Haymitch’sold now. You…”

“Haymitch is keeping me very satisfied, thankyou very much.” she snapped haughtily. “Do I ask you about your conquests? No,I do not.”

“You can.” Jo snorted. “Last week in Two? Letme tell you something about Gale…”

“What about Gale?” Katniss frowned, tooaggressive.

“Well…” Johanna grinned, clearly missing thegrowl of warning in the girl’s voice. “His hands aren’t the only big thing…”

“Oh my god.” Effie gasped. “You didn’t!”

“I sodid.” Seven’s victor cackled.

“Did what?” Katniss hissed, completely lost.Alcohol had made her grey eyes completely glassy. “What did you do?”

“Fuckedhim.” Johanna shrugged as if it wasn’t a problem at all. As if there was nohistory between the boy and Katniss. Effie decided she probably didn’t care.“Peeta must have one hell of a dick.”

“What?” the girl repeated. Effie swiftly placedherself between them before Katniss could get a stupid idea – like jumping onSeven’s victor in the middle of the street.

“You’ve dumped Gale.” Jo explained “And, fuck, if he doesn’t have a nice big dick…I’m thinking Peeta must have an even bigger one.”

“You are sotacky.” Effie sighed, shaking her head and urging them both to walk on in whatshe hoped to be the direction of the Village. “And size isn’t everything.”

“Oh, please.”Johanna sneered. “You’re saying that?Everybody knows Haymitch is hung like a horse.”

Katniss made a gagging noise and then made aface. “How is that good?” The girlshook her head. “Too big can’t begood.”

“There is nothing like too big.” Jo laughed.“But I guess now we know Peeta’s dick isn’t that good.”

“There issomething like too big, actually.” Effie cut in. “And couldwe stop discussing Peeta’s penis? It is making me extremely uncomfortable.”

Johanna rolled her eyes but they managed totake a few steps in silence. Effie could have jumped in joy when she recognizedthe slope that led up to the Village. She couldn’t wait to get home. She wasentirely too drunk to play buffer.

“I can’t believe you slept with Gale.” Katnissspat, mid-slope.

“It’s not like you were ever going to cash in onthat.” Johanna scowled. “It was a shame for that tree to remain untapped. Plus,he fucking knows how to use thatthing…”

“Am I dreaming or do I detect some fondness?”Effie teased, suddenly more interested. “Exactly how long has this been goingon?”

“Nothing’s going on.” Johanna grumbled. “I takehim for a ride sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” she insisted.

“So Haymitch’s too big for your cunt?” Joretorted. “How about we talk about that?”

The victor had clearly intended to shock orrepulse her into silence with her vulgarity but Effie barely blinked. Alcoholhad always made her a lot less bent on propriety.

“I will have you know he is exactly the right size for me.” shereplied and, because tequila always made her competitive, she couldn’t helpherself. “You could never handle it.”

“Gale’s big.”Jo replied.

“Haymitch is bigger.” she hissed, stopping inher tracks to glare at her friends, hands on her hips.

“Yeah?” Seven’s victor challenged. She liftedboth hands with a smug smile, clearly mimicking a size. Effie clumsily grabbedher wrists and brought them further apart with a smug grin of her own. Jostudied the distance between her hands and then looked up at her. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yes.”she purred, proud like a peacock.

“You’re both lying.” Katniss scowled. “That’s far too big.”

“How’s Peeta doing then?” Jo mocked.

Katniss brought her hands a reasonable – and respectable – distance apart.

“Not bad.” Jo commented.

“It is certainly a little over average.” Effienodded.

They both sounded disdainful if not patronizingto Effie’s ear and it was no luck Katniss picked up on it. The girl made a faceand scoffed. “I don’t care what you say. He’s perfect for me.”

She blushed red and Effie did too because, honestly, it was more than she had everwanted to know about the children.

With a last scoff, Katniss quickened the paceand disappeared between the Village’s iron gates. Jo and Effie followed a fewsteps behind.

“So.” Effie prompted. “You and Gale…”

“He’s just a good fuck.” Jo grumbled. “Drop it.” Seven’s victor buried her hands inher pockets. “If he’s that big, maybe I should try Haymitch.”

“I will murder you and feed your body to thegeese.” she warned in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Cute.” Johanna snorted. “I’ll snap your neckbefore you can touch me.”

“And Haymitch will avenge me.” she sighed.“See, you trying to seduce my man is not ending well. You should stick toGale.”

“He’s younger anyway.” Johanna cackled. “Morestamina.”

“More stamina or not, I would advise you to clearthings up with Katniss.” she hummed. “That’s my stop.”

She left Johanna to stumble after the girl andhurried home. The front door was unlocked – thankfully– preventing her from being forced to struggle with her keys. She followed thelights to the living-room where Haymitch was sprawled on the couch, a half fullglass resting on the floor in easy reach, a book propped on his stomach. Helooked up when she walked in and smirked, eyes twinkling in amusement.

“I’d ask if you’d fun but… It’s kinda obviousyou did.” he mocked. She kicked her heels off, unzipped her dress and let itfall at her feet. He lifted his eyebrows and tossed the book on the coffeetable. “You’ve been naughty, sweetheart? Got something you need to make up tome for?”

“I may have flirted with a few people.” sheadmitted, unclasping her bra and tossing it in the vague direction of anarmchair – it missed.

“Yeah?” he growled.

“Have I ever told you how much I love yourpenis, Haymitch?” she asked, her drunk mind jumping tracks quickly. She slidoff her thong and crawled on the couch, straddling his body. “Because I do. Ireally, really do.”

“Guess it’s a safe bet to say my dick loves youback.” he chuckled, loosely wrapping his hands around her wrists when shestarted unbuckling his belt. “Any particular reason you’re so in love with myjunk tonight?”

“You are bigger than Peeta and Gale.” sheannounced.

His eyebrows shot up again. “Not quite what Iwas expecting but alright.”

This time, he didn’t try to stop her when she openedhis pants and palmed him through his underwear. His breath caught a little,which only made her grin harder because she loved those noises he made when hewas trying to be quiet.

“I am going to suck you off.” she told him.“Because you are mine. And you penis is mine. Only mine.”

His hands squeezed her wrists and then ran upand down her arms. “You’re drunk.”

“I want to give you a blow job.” she pouted.“So you remember I am the best if Johanna tries anything.”

“Johanna?” he frowned.

“She likes big penises.” she nodded. “And youare bigger than Gale.”

His frown deepened. “Johanna fucked Gale?”

“Johanna said she wanted to have sex with you.”she insisted. “I warned her it would only end in murder but, with her, younever know.”

He studied her for a second and then shook hishead. “You’re wasted.”

“I’m serious.”she hissed.

“Seriouslywasted.” he taunted, tugging on her arms so she would lie down on his chest.

It wasn’t exactly what she had had in mind butshe snuggled close to him anyway, almost purring in contentment when he grabbedthe blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it over them. She loved itwhen he took care of her.  

“Do not sleep with Johanna.” she warned.

“Yeah, like that’s ever going to happen.” he scoffed.

“She might try something.” she insisted. “I donot trust her.”

“You think I’d sleep with her?” he grumbled,annoyed. “She’s a kid.”

“She is attractive.” she countered. “And shelikes…”

“Yeah, she likes big dicks, thanks, I got thedrift.” he cut her off. “She’s not getting mine.”

��Because it belongs to me.” she hummed.

“Because she’sa kid.” he scowled.

“Andbecause it belongs to me.” she pouted, propping her chin on his chest to lookat him.

He stared at her and then rolled his eyes. “Youseriously want me to say that?”

“Yes.” she hissed.

He snorted, smirking once more. “You’re fucking possessive when you’re wasted.”

“I am fuckingpossessive all the time, I simply have better self-control than you do.” shedeadpanned. “Please, do say it.”

“Fine.” he granted, chuckling. “My very bigdick belongs to you. Happy?”

“Why, yes,darling.” she purred, resting her cheek on his chest again. “I will be verysick tomorrow. Tequila was involved.”

“You don’t say.” he teased, running his fingersthrough her hair. “Get some sleep.”

She hummed and curled up on him like a contentcat.

She was certain she would live to regret thatnight the next morning but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care right atthe moment.

[quilleth]

Imagine Person A of your OTP being asked if they would kiss Person B for $100.00. They respond, “I would pay $100.00 to kiss Person B.” Bonus points if Person B overhears this.OT3 bonus: Person C is the one asking Person A the question, and they nod in approval and agree with Person A’s answer. (with Elisabeth and Noah and ??? your choice

I don’t think I’ve ever had an idea for a prompt response come so quickly as I did with this xD (Of course, then life happened and all that jazz so it’s taken a while to answer it….).  I took a few liberties with the prompt,and the POV jumps a bit, but this was fun!  (These poor dorks…someone help them they have no idea how to flirt or function around cute people.)I may have also gotten a bit carried away and started trying to figure out what exactly Elisabeth and Jasper are talking about (history and books…the answer is history and books.  Because they’re nerds), but decided to leave it off for now

           Elisabethsmiled to herself as she walked down the hall arm in arm with her brother as herecounted a story he’d heard from Prince Hamin. Again.  Really, she thought not paying attention in the slightest, this crush of his is adorable, but he’s kindof helpless when it comes to actually doing anything about it.  Her grin widened, unobserved by the happilychattering Noah, right before she asked, eyes gleaming with mischief,“So…would you just kiss him already if I paid you 100 gold to doit?”

           Noah stoppeddead in his tracks and stared at her. “First, you don’t have100 gold to give me to do anything.”

           "It’sa hypothetical!“

           "Andsecond,” he continued as though she hadn’t interrupted him, “I would pay 100 gold to march up to him, say‘Hello, I think I might be quite smitten with you,’ and snog that grin right offhis stupidly pretty face!”

           Elisabethreplied, “Oh really?” at the same time as another voice from behindthem asked, “Anyone I know?”

           Noah froze,a look of horror on his face as he met his sister’s gaze, silently demanding, You didn’t!

           Elisabeth’sself satisfied smile said Oh yes I did,which she enforced by leaning close to whisper, “Now’s your chance!”before shoving him none too gently (nor particularly discreetly) in Hamin’sdirection.

           Noahstumbled and tripped and only narrowly avoided crashing into the pirate inquestion, who looked incredibly amused. “I am so sorry!”  Panicmade him babble rather incoherent apologies and something about a fish (why was I given vocal cords?!), while thinkingless than favorable thoughts towards his sister.  He shot a venomous look at Elisabeth, whowaved merrily.  Yes, he had said he’d like to confront Hamin, butthese things took preparation and planning…by him, not his scheming minx of ababy sister! Oh she’s going to pay forthis!  I’m going to–!   His thoughts were abruptly distracted formtheir vengeful musings by the simple expedient of  Hamin pulling him close and kissing him.  Noah’s irritation and desire for retaliationfluttered very briefly before fizzling out completely to be replaced with awarm happy feeling hat remained after Hamin released him.   I’m going to buy her that pony she wanted whenshe was nine.  No! I’ll get her a library full of history books and adventure novels! Noah thoughts, grinning to himself, his dayhaving suddenly gotten rather better (it having been a pretty good day to startwith, this was saying something).  He wasdistracted by a snort of laughter he recognized from over twenty years ofliving under the same roof, and he turned his attention toward the apparentlyhighly entertaining conversation between his sister and Hamin.

           "Youmay as well keep it, seeing as I would only end up giving it to my brother, whowould end up giving it back to you anyway,“ Elisabeth said looking more smugthan Noah could ever remember her doing.

           "Youplanned this?”  he demanded.

           "Imight have,“ Elisabeth said evasively, which she ruined by rolling hereyes.

           Thoughtsstuck somewhere between indignation and the warm fuzzy place they had beenmoments earlier, Noah replied, “You are most definitely not getting that pony now!”

           Both Haminand Elisabeth stared at him for a couple of moments before the former burstinto laughter and the latter cocked her head and asked, “What on earth areyou talking about?!”  before she toobroke into a fit of the giggles. Realizing he’d spoken aloud, Noah flushed before he too was laughing- atthe two of them, at himself, and at the whole ridiculous situation.  Leave it to Elisabeth to meddle where shethought she was being helpful.

           Elisabethstarted and stood straighter when someone behind them coughed softly.  Noah watched in amusement as she somewhatunsuccessfully tried to smother her laughter and instead choked out a greetingof, “Hello Jasper,” between giggles.

           "HelloLady Elisabeth, Lord Noah, Prince Hamin. Is everything  alright?“ Jasper replied, eyebrowsraised.

           "Yes,yes, everything is fine!” Elisabeth replied, gaining control over hergiggling, if not the grin on her face.

           Hamin snickeredas Noah nodded in agreement. “Oh things are just swell here,” he saidgrinning as he threw a companionable arm over Noah’s shoulder.

           Jasper eyedthe three of them suspiciously, wondering if he ought to send someone to lookfor a fire somewhere. Or some other chaos he thought, rathercircumspect.  Elisabeth on her own mightcause an accident, but in present company an accident could quickly turn into afull blown catastrophe.

           "My darling sister,“ Noah shot Elisabetha disgruntled look, "Just played a bit of a prank on us, you see,” headded, rubbing the back of his neck.

           Jasper’sexpression cycled rapidly from suspicious to mildly curious, to approvingbefore settling into it usual nonchalance. Noah wasn’t sure he liked the idea of someone else possibly encouragingElisabeth’s antics and gave the butler a suspicious look of his own.

           Completelyunperturbed by this, Jasper asked Elisabeth, “Did you still wish topractice dancing this afternoon, my lady, or would you prefer-”

           "Oh!  I nearly forgot!“  Elisabeth cut him off.  "I’m sorry Jasper! I hope you weren’twaiting too long.”

           Jasper gaveher a funny look.  "We’re not thatfar from your room, Lady Elisabeth.  Isimply followed the noise.“

           It was thenthat Elisabeth and her erstwhile companions realised they had acquired anaudience.  A couple of the Hise delegateswere grinning and whistling, and form the looks of it, exchanging coin of theirown while a couple of other people loitered in varying states of shock.  "Ah, hello Annabelle,” Elisabethsaid to her skittish Arlish neighbor, who was clearly not sure which was morescandalous: a trio of adults some years older than herself having hysterics inthe hallway, or blatantly open displays of affection, like kissing…in public!  She squeaked a greeting at Elisabeth beforedarting past a few doors down the hall into her room, shutting the door firmlybehind her.  Turning back to her brotherand his would be beau, Elisabeth grinned. “Alright you two, do stop scandalizing my neighbors, or at the veryleast, try to do so somewhere more discreet? I have dancing topractice!”  she said with the air ofa governess scolding her charges for disobedience, conveniently ignoring thefact that she had orchestrated thewhole thing.

           "You’restill on about that?  I’d have thoughtyou’d give up ages ago!“  Noah saidin some surprise.  "You know, justbecause you’re her butler and all, you don’t need to get your feet stamped on,right?” he added with a grin and a teasing nudge to Elisabeth’s arm.

           Elisabethhuffed in annoyance, but Jasper replied before she could say any of thescathing comments in her head.  "LadyElisabeth’s dancing has improved very much in the few weeks she’s beenhere.  She’s an adept study.“

           "Ifyou say so!  Carry on and god speed, allthat rot! You’re a far more persistent man than I,”  Noah replied cheerily.

           Elisabethflushed slightly, “Thank you Jasper,” she said with exaggerateddignity.  "Shall we get goingthen?  I’m supposed to meet Penelopelater I think, and I want to make sure I have enough time to practice thefleuret.“  She turned withoutdeigning to say goodbye to her brother and took a few steps down the hall, butwhen they’d gotten a few feet away she whirled around and stalked back toNoah.  "May I remind you that I knowboth where you sleep and also where to find frogs here?  And I’ve barely stepped on Jasper’s feetsince the first couple of lessons he gave me, which is more than I could sayabout your attempts at teaching me, thank you very much!” she hissed,pointing at him menacingly before spinning back around with an irritated noise,nose in the air, and hurrying to catch up with Jasper, who seemingly hadn’tgotten any further away despite not having actually stopped walking.

           Noahwatched in some bemusement as Elisabeth tucked a strand of hair behind her earand smiled at her butler, who leaned solicitously towards her as she apparentlylaunched into telling some story, gesturing enthusiastically. “Well, Isay!  That was a bit extreme.  I was only joking,” he said,frowning.  "I hardly think thatcalls for frogs in one’s bed.“

           "Mmm,”Hamin said.  "Maybe we should haveoffered her the hundred gold,“ he said speculatively, watching Elisabeth’sinteractions with mild interest, still leaning an arm causally on Noah’sshoulders.

           "What?!”Noah sputtered.  Then he added, afterHamin pointed, “Oh that’s just Lissy’s way.  She always seems to become fast friends withthe staff wherever we are; has since she was a tiny little terror.  It’s how she used to get sweets back homewhen we were younger!  Befriend the staffand they’ll make sure you get your favorite pastries.  Of course…I don’t think she’s actuallyasked them to sneak her food since she was about ten though….”  He tilted his head in a gesture remarkablysimilar to his sister’s as he watched. “That’s just Lissy,” he said, though he frowned as Elisabeth’sbright laugh echoed down the hall.

           "Right.  What ever you say!“  Hamin said. "Soo…frogs?”  he askedwith a wicked grin as the two of them began meandering off to take Elisabeth’ssuggestion of finding somewhere less populated. “Do I want to know?”

           Noahsighed, “Well I’m not afraid of them if that’s what you’re wondering.  But it is quite unpleasant when one islooking forward to clean, warm sheets, only to climb into a bed with dampsheets and some angry looking amphibians. Now our older sister on the other hand…”  Noah winked at Hamin.  "She loathesfrogs!“

           "Whydo I get the impression that your sister isn’t the only one that was a rightlittle terror?”

           "Youmean she isn’t now?  She’ll be sodisappointed; she does try so hard,“ Noah said dramatically before flashing a cheeky smile.  "Admittedly, she might have had somehelp in that. Someone had to teach her the way of things.”

           Haminlaughed.  "With an attitude like that,you’d do pretty well as a.  Ever thoughtabout pirating?“

           "Frequently,”Noah replied, grinning.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey do you have any really funny fic you could suggest? I just read 'A week is only seven days' and I was crying it was so funny. I want more!

Hi Nonny!! OH GOD this has been in my drafts for MONTHS and I’m sorry for the delay. I’m guessing you found that fic on my “Go-To Johnlock Fic Rec List”, and it’s totally worth a read since it’s like, one of my all-time fave fics!! I don’t have many fics with the same type of humour, but I hope that a few of these will appease you! They’re more fluffy than anything else, but if I had a chuckle in them, then they will be here :)

High and Tight, Soft and Loose by cwb (E, Ao3) (7,429 w.) - John is stupidly obsessed with Sherlock, Sherlock is adorably clueless, and they’re both dumb idiots. Jealous John and silly misunderstandings.

Well Begun Is Half Done by Avice (E, Ao3) (3,897 w.) - Sherlock conveniently finds reasons to try to touch John’s junk. John’s tired of waiting.

The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E, Ao3) (44,025 w.) - Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants for a case. There are some angsty bits in this, but I did giggle at a few scenes.

Life and Death by patemalah21 (K+, ff) (6K+) - Sherlock and John get mugged and injured. The first chapter is angsty, but the second and third chapters, Sherlock has to deal with his worst nemesis yet – a nurse intent on him getting better. *SLIGHT* Sher1011ie in the third chapter, but it feels more BFF’s.

You’re a Doctor, Fix me by edken (G, Ao3) (8,342 w.) - Sherlock gets sick and stroppy, John grins and bears it to fix him, and a fluffy happy ending.

How to Court Your Blogger by PipMer (K+, ff) (3,124 w.) - Sherlock Tries to court John on significant days in their life. Too bad John is a little bit slow on the draw.

Sibling Rivalry Or Fighting Over John Watson by Jessa7 (K+, ffnet) (8,085w.) - Mycroft is suddenly taking an interest in John and Sherlock is not happy. John just goes with it – he’s getting a lot of nice things out of this deal. (*NOT JOHNCROFT, just Mycroft being a meddler).

The Devil You Know by PipMer (T, ff) (9K+ w.) - Mycroft flirts with John. Sherlock gets jealous. John’s just along for the ride. Yeah, I also REALLY like Mycroft purposely riling up Sherlock to force him to confess his feelings for John. Another “meddling Mycroft” fic… I seriously love this trope.

Cigarettes and Shampoo by laura0506 (K+, ff) (783 w) - John and Sherlock get kicked out of a grocery store. Sherlock has a big mouth.

Cabbies by OldBesinaStuff (K, ff) (572 w) - Sherlock expounds and illuminates upon the subject of their current cabbies.

The Care and Keeping of Your Mad Genius by Janieshi (T, ff) (4K+ w.) - Lestrade and John tease Sherlock after the pool incident.

Just Admit It by LoyalNerdWP (K+, ff) (2K+) - Sherlock goes home for Christmas and is missing John. One of my faves, it’s more sweet than funny.

The Newlywed Game: Johnlock Edition by patternofdefiance (E, Ao3) (9,020 w.) - Sherlock and John pretend they’re a couple “for a case”. They’re shocked to discover how much they know about each other. One of my faves.

Happy Birthday John by Starlight05 (K+, ff) (1K+ w.) - Sherlock goes shopping for a present for John. 

Not Rocket Science by Nitrospira (K+, ff) (2K+ w.) - The boys are handcuffed to a bed while investigating a double homicide on the International Space Station. It’s been awhile since I read this but I remember liking it :D

Out on da pull by I-O-U-a-picture (T, ff) (1K+w.) - John can never pull a date, especially with a flatmate like Sherlock.

I’m Pretty Sure This Changes Shit by cwb (E, Ao3) (7,672 w.) - This one is really ridiculously silly. Sherlock keeps injuring himself so John will fix him up. John catches on, and it changes shit.

Because Blah Blah Blah Happy by cwb  (E, Ao3) (4,578 w.) - Sherlock sets out to make John happy. Happy happy happy.

Carry On by Mazarin221b (M, Ao3) (4,647 w.) - Five times John didn’t want to be carried, and one time he did.

Equine Arse Anonymity by Kayjaykayme (E, Ao3) (3,834 w.) - Sherlock needs to speak with suspects at a fancy dress ball. He chooses a couple’s costume for himself and John. It is logical, practical and well thought out. John doesn’t agree and exacts sweet revenge.

An Acquired Taste by kinklock (E, Ao3) (31,059 w.) - Sherlock is a bat. No other explanation needed.

and yes I said yes I will Yes by Mithen (T, Ao3) (1,662 w.) - Sherlock has deduced that John is going to propose to him, and he’s ready to accept. If only John would actually get around to it…

The Trouble With Being Subtle. by VictoryCandescence  (NR, Ao3) (5,429 w.) - In which Sherlock experiments, John misinterprets, and everyone else stands back and waits for the light to turn on.

The Detective and the Pin-Up by XistentialAngst (T, Ao3) (15,683 w.) - Sally Donovan discovers an old secret John Watson considered long buried - a ten-year old “Men of the Armed Forces” calendar, which has John as a very enticing pin-up for August. The image of John might just change the way everyone sees the unassuming sidekick, even Sherlock Holmes.

John’s Drawers by JezebelGoldstone (T, Ao3) (2,646 w.) - Sherlock snoops through John’s drawers and finds something… unexpected.

In Which John is a BAMFy MoFo, OMG! by Kantayra (T, Ao3) (1,835 w.) - John’s BAMFness and Sherlock’s damsel-in-distress act are caught forever on camera. So Scotland Yard can mock. A lot.

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, Ao3) (47,709 w.) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results. {{NOTE: Because I always forget: ‘The One With the Shampoo, Steph.’}}

Goodness Gives Extras by mydwynter (E, Ao3) (39,629 w.) - Christmas time. ‘Tis the season to settle down with a drink, some food and a present or two, and to enjoy the quiet relaxation of the holiday. Instead, there’s a case that drags them all over, missing presents, disappointed kids, angry parents, and a freak snowfall. On top of that John has to deal with Sherlock, who is being even more of a prat than usual. He really shouldn’t have expected anything different.

You Can Imagine the Christmas Dinners by ardenteurophile (T, Ao3) (23,584 w.) - Sherlock takes John along for Christmas dinner with Mycroft and Mummy (And “Anthea”, too). Over the course of the evening, John realises that everyone in the room - apart from him - seems to think that he and Sherlock are a couple.

You Can Imagine The Christmas Dinners by johnsarmylady (T, ff)(1K+ w.) - Set the morning after a Study in Pink, John sits and contemplates Mycroft’s words. John’s imagination sometimes goes a little wild.

Abhorring the Dull Routine of Existence by ardenteurophile (T, ff) (7K+ w.) - Or, a Week Spent on Artificial Stimulants. Sherlock overdoses on Red Bull, much to John’s dismay. Spin-off fic set before the events of “You Can Imagine the Christmas Dinners”.

The Real Meaning of Idioms by feverishsea (T, Ao3) (21,691 w.) - After two weeks away, John finally texts Sherlock. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to respond. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to keep texting him. And he really doesn’t expect things to spiral out of control so rapidly.

To Sleep, Perchance to Smother Your Flatmate with a Pillow by Linpatootie (G, Ao3) (5,308 w.) - Sherlock wants to conduct a sleep study of sorts. John contemplates smothering him with a pillow. Part 1 of Two Coffees One Black One with Sugar Please (this whole series is amazing, and I love it so much).

The Second Law of Thermodynamics by entanglednow (T, Ao3) (3,614) - In which there’s no heating and there’s a dead owl in Sherlock’s bed. Part 1 of Thermodynamics (this whole series is really great, I love it!)

Vaporized by Catslynw (K, ff) (1K+ w.) - This little number is set soon after A Study in Pink. John has just moved into 221b and is getting to know his flatmate, and his flatmate’s amazing abilities, a little better.

Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt by satanatemycat (T, ff) (2K+ w.) - In which John makes a bet with a co-worker. If he wins, she shuts up about him and Sherlock being a couple. If he loses… well, that doesn’t matter, because he won’t lose. Because he and Sherlock ARE NOT a couple. Right?

The Video Footage by bitchinblackframedglasses (K, ff) (1K+ w.) - What exactly DID Lestrade film Sherlock doing in A Scandal in Belgravia? Sherlock wants to know, and John tells him. Fluff.

At Least Make It Interesting by amythedork (K, ff) (2K+ w.) - "You’ve reached Sherlock Holmes. For the love of God, if you’re going to leave a message, at least make it an interesting one. If this is Mycroft, then piss off.“ / A series of voicemails John left Sherlock throughout their time together. 

Manipulation by sixbynine (K, ff) (2+K w.) - John Watson is not as unobservant as Sherlock thinks, nor is he above using what he knows. Even if it is just to make sure Sherlock eats and sleeps.

Bored Games by SparksMayFly (K, ff) (3K+ w.) - Sherlock asks if he can take Reverend Green in for interrogation. John explains that’s not how the game works. 

Bored Games by patster223 (K+, ff) (2k+ w.) - Sherlock is bored and John decides that they should play Cluedo. In retrospect, it was a truly awful decision.

Three Ways Sherlock Conformed to His Stereotype by Jennistar1 (K+, ff) (1K+ w.) - "It’s a hat.” / Urge to roll eyes, quashed. “Yes. I can see that.” / “It’s called a deerstalker.”

Tipsy by katkin (K+, ff) (2K+ w.)  “I love everyone in this room,” he announced proudly.“I know you do, buddy,” John replied “Which is why you’re going to clean this carpet in the morning. Because you’re a good friend.” “I am a good friend!” Sherlock agreed.

Cards by Caighlee (K+, ff) (1K+ w.) - Sherlock has been without a case for a few days and Molly’s suggested experiment - something with a pig head (ew) - is losing it’s appeal. Can John come up with something that’ll distract Sherlock for a bit longer? And how did John pull off that card trick? Sherlock’ll never know because a magician never tells a secret. Except maybe when faced with a smiling Consulting Detective.

Never Have I Ever by Hannelore-Grace (T, ff) (2K+) - In which the Yarders, Sherlock, and John play the time-honored drinking game.

Surety by hudders (G, Ao3) (2,477 w.) - Sherlock is pissed because it seems that four pints of larger, two shots of tequila and a glass of wine has resulted in Lestrade becoming a little bit too friendly with everyone. And by everyone, Sherlock really means John.

Never Have I Ever by hudders-and-hiddles (E, Ao3) (10,655 w.) - John and Sherlock tag along for the Met’s weekly night out, where the evening’s chosen drinking game is Never Have I Ever. Sherlock is reluctant to join in until he realizes he can learn all kinds of new things about John, but he forgets that John might learn a thing or two about him as well.

Cabin Fever by A Wandering Minstrel (K+, ff) (6K+ w.) - A massive storm keeps John trapped in Baker Street with a half-blind (for science!), very bored Sherlock Holmes.

Spilt Milk by Erin Giles (K+, ff) (2K+ w.) - John comes back from a trip to the supermarket only to take a trip up the stairs. Both shopping and blood are spilled leaving Sherlock to play the role of Doctor.

God Save The Queen by Alice Day (K+, ff) (1K+ w.) - Sherlock has a new case. John is petrified. The Queen is amused.

Tidying Up by mattsloved1 (K+, ff) (951w.) – John comes home to a thoroughly cleaned flat. Or so it seems.

Feel free to add your own ficlets and self promos!! I love all the funny fics!

[tobogga]

How To Be Undateable

I broke up with this man twice, and he thinks he deserves to be with me. Without going into the psychology of a person who thinks that if they want something, they by default deserve it, even if that thing is really a person, here is a list of qualities that are repulsive. If you are dating, do not do adopt these behaviors becasue if you do you will be undateable: 

He makes uncomfortably long eye contact without attention to how uncomfortable he is making his subject. 

He talks too much about himself and isn’t interested enough in me. When we go to dinner he monologues and forgets to pause to let me speak and never asks me a question about my life.

He’s a bad listener and almost always interrupts me before I’m done.

He’s unobservant of the surrounding world in general. If we were living in a war zone, he would be the first one to be killed because he’d walk out into a bullet field not realizing what it was because he was busy bragging about his prominance in Hollywood.

He doesn’t have much philosophical insight into life. Everything he says has the underlying motive of making himself look better. Likely, everything he says is partially true, but he’s so dumb that he’s a bad liar, so it all evens out.

He isn’t funny and laughs at other people’s pain, so his sense of humor is non-existent.

He does embarrassing things when we go into public and doesn’t have a good way to blend in and relate to others; instead he tries to be the center of attention, but because he’s not very smart, he ends up mostly being annoying. His act is translucent and everyone who meets him can tell that he is deeply insecure and is trying to make himself look better, so the natural reaction is something along the lines of, “Oh, one of these guys. Who invited him?” At that point the blame falls on me.

He doesn’t know how to admit that he’s wrong when it’s clear that he’s wrong and instead makes excuses. Everyone with a shred of dignity will swallow their pride and not fight over the small ways they might be right, and at some point just look the person they wronged or embarrassed in the eyes and say, “I’m sorry; that was stupid of me,” and then move on. He is the child who needs to prove that he’s right in every way.

He’s sensitive about anything people say about him, but insensitive about what he says to other people.

He brags constantly about what a big deal he is in Hollywood which is a huge turn off because there is more to life. If you are doing Hollywood so that you can brag about being a big deal in Hollywood, you’re doing it for the wrong reasons. Those of us who have found ourselves at this juncture in life, for the most part, have tried literally everything else and this is where we are doomed to spend our time because we were born different and it’s a curse just as much as it’s a blessing. It is definitely not something to brag about. There are brilliant people in every profession. Without brilliant doctors we would all be dead. Without brilliant teachers abused children would still be with their abusers and insecure children would still believe they were stupid. Without fantastic masseuses, the muscles tied up in knots holding painful memories and anxiety would be overtaking the human bodies they inhabit. What Hollywood does is braodcast, but that does not make it more valuable than other activities that millions of people on this planet spend their life doing. Any human who puts himself on a pedestal due merely to the industry they have joined is in a significant way, spiritually blind and in need of both life teaching them a lesson, and guidance.

He says rude things without realizing it because he’s so insanely insecure and hasn’t dealt with his issues. For example, I’ve been transitioning out of a job that paid me below the poverty level. I stupidly took this job because I misread the character of the boss upon interviewing with her, and because several of my mentors recommended that I take it despite the pay for the sake of building my resume. Long story short, for financial and sanity reasons, I had to get another job that paid me enough to cover my bills after six months. He offered to help by sending a PA gig opportunity on a national commercial my way, but the job was offered to me just three days before they were filming. I had to ask my employers (the one I was transitioning out of, and the new one I was transitioning into) to give me the days off. I got one employer’s permission, and was waiting on the second employer. Meanwhile, I’d been eating one to two ham sandwiches a day to keep my bills down, and gave plasma to make enough money to pay my bills. I was totally broke and really could have used the money from the PA gig. Unfortunately, the production coordinator needed me to commit literally six minutes before my second boss gave me the day off. It was a disappointment and felt consistent with my bad luck. I let him know, and he accused me of being stupid for not waiting another six minutes. Consistent with his bad listening, he didn’t hear me when I said that his production coordinator was the one who couldn’t wait six more minutes. Fast forward to the days of the shoot, I was able to pick up a babysitting job to make up for the lost income, but he texted me and told me, “It’s too bad you’re not here. You would be making so much money. We’re going into overtime. You would have loved it. The crew is awesome. Really too bad you didn’t take the job.”  First off, it was not my choice to not do the job you dumb fuck, I already told you that and clearly you forgot or are so stupid you can’t process basic information when it’s not about you. Second, this issue is sensitive because I’ve been working my ass off to try to make it work, and I’m fucking broke and can barely eat, which he was aware of, but he still rubbed salt in the wound likely to make me wish I was around him. He put his insecurity over my pain. Beyond rude, it’s a sign of a person with unhealthy values.

He constantly tells me that the money I make is bullshit and that I should be making five times as much. While on some level I can tell he’s trying to be encouraging, on another level, it’s frustrating that he doesn’t realize that telling someone who is trying their hardest that the amount of money they are making is pathetic can come off as rude, condescending, and offputting. I don’t want to spend time with a person who insults me that way. 

Final verbal failure I will report, whenever I’m busy and have to work, he says to me in a wildly condescending voice, “don’t work too hard!” as though he’s hoping I’ll never make it and will have to marry him to gain access to money. Actually, working hard is exactly what I am going to do so I never have to end up with someone like you.

He doesn’t dress well. Not the most important factor, but you’d think if he cares so much about appearance and surface-level perceptions that he’d at least get that right, but no. Once again, I’m left to conclude that his inability to observe the outside world, and self-obsession is so debilitating, that he can’t even be good at his own game.

Good luck to everyone out there dating. Remember, just becasue someone likes you, and a relationship is possible, it doesn’t mean that’s the right thing to do. In many cases, remaining single is the best choice. 

[euphxmia-pxtter-blog]

Overheard (a Saphael fanfic)

When Alec got back to the apartment- sweaty, grimy, and bleeding- after a particularly long demon hunt, he intended to go in immediately, down a large mug of tea, and take an hour-long shower. That was the plan, until he reached the door and heard voices inside. Who might Magnus have invited over? he wondered. He wasn't worried or threatened; they'd grown past that. He was, however, extremely curious. The voices were hushed and serious. One of them clearly belonged to Magnus Bane, Alec's boyfriend. The other sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. As quietly as he possibly could, Alec inched open the door just enough that he could see and hear them. Shockingly, he immediately recognized the other person as the vampire Raphael Santiago. He knew Magnus had once known Raphael, but he wasn't under the impression that they were still friends. And yet, there he was. More surprising still were the words being spoken. "-know what to do," Raphael was saying. "I think he likes me too, but I've never heard him explicitly state his romantic orientation. Besides, maybe I've been pushing him too hard lately. Ever since our spat about the Shadowhunters, things have been a little strained. You know what I mean?" Raphael is here for... relationship advice? And who is he talking about? Magnus only chuckled softly. "Raph, you've got to know that ridiculous boy isn't going anywhere. He's obviously head over heels for you. You should have seen him rushing around in a panic after you told him to leave the DuMort. 'Is this gonna be forever? Am I not going to see him again? Will I be replaced as Advisor to the Interim Chapter President?' Honestly. It was like he somehow wasn't aware that you invented the stupid position just so you could keep him around." "Wait, so you think he's..." "Look, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. But you have to promise not to let slip I said anything. Okay?" "Yeah. What?" "A little red-haired birdie told me that Simon Lewis is undoubtably and unabashedly pansexual. He has, apparently, alluded to the fact a dozen different times around the Shadowhunters, but they don't acknowledge him enough to notice. So just go for it, okay? What's the point of living forever if you don't live?" Alec thought his head might explode. The leader of the New York vampire clan was in his apartment, getting relationship advice from Magnus, and crushing on Simon the Daylighter, who was apparently also pan. Would wonders ever cease? Sensing the conversation was coming to an end, he closed the door silently and then made a big show of throwing it open. He tried his best to look exhausted, as if he'd just been fighting. "I'm home, babe! Oh, hi Raphael! I'm surprised to see you here." Raphael smiled uncomfortably. "Yeah, well. Just- you know- checking in. I do that now and then. I should probably be going now, though. Umm... thanks for having me!" While talking, he had gotten to his feet, pulled on his shoes, and was hurrying out the door. Alec squinted after him, playing dumb. "What was all that about?" Magnus just smiled blankly. "No idea." @. @. @. Alec didn't say anything about the conversation he overheard, but it didn't end up mattering. Unbeknownst to him, a related discussion occurred just a few days later. It was early in the evening, when most of the vampires were still asleep. Simon, restless and anxious, had snuck out and called Isabelle to meet him for lunch. He used the term very loosely, of course, since no restaurant he'd ever been to had 'fresh blood' on the beverages menu. Really, he just needed to talk to someone, and Clary was working a duo mission with Jace. "Simon, what's the matter?" Izzy said as she slid into a booth across from him at the local McDonalds (no need to be classy). If Simon could still blush, he'd probably be doing it. If he still had a heartbeat, it would most likely be racing. As it was, his hands somehow shook a little. "It's... umm... Well, I guess the truth is... Oh fuck this; I'm in love with Raphael." Izzy blinked. It was the first time she'd ever heard him curse, for one thing. For another- "Aw shit, Si. Now I owe Clary ten bucks. Geez, couldn't you have waited another two weeks?" The look on Simon's face was priceless. "What? You thought you were so discreet, didn't you? But I'm not as stupidly unobservant as my brothers, and Clary's your best friend, and she already knew you were pan. It wasn't hard to piece together." She rolled her eyes and he laughed nervously. "Alright, that's fair. But help me out. What am I supposed to do?" Izzy snorted. "Well, I'm not really the leading expert on guy-on-guy, but-" "You know what I mean," Simon whined. Izzy held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Look, don't be subtle about it. You like him? Tell him. Show him. By the Angel, kiss him. Whatever floats your boat. Just act." "But what if he-" "Act." "But what-" "ACT." "Okay." After that, the conversation devolved into fluffy 'girl talk'. "So, what is it that you like about Mr. Grouchy Suit-Wearing Vampire anyway?" Izzy asked, resting her chin on her fist and leaning forward interestedly. Simon gave a kind of giggle, and his fangs poked out a little as he pondered his answer. "Well, for one thing, he's not really grouchy all the time. He always gets me out of tough spots and oversees my training and makes sure the other vamps don't beat me up. And he plays piano really beautifully, though he rolls his eyes if I say so. And he'll mutter jokes under his breath when he doesn't think anyone can hear, because he's a lot more of a dork than he wants anyone to know. And he always smells a little like vanilla. And sometimes he just zones out into space and gets this lonely look in his eye that just makes me want to hug him. And-" Simon broke off and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I was babbling." Izzy smiled. "Sometimes we all need a minute to babble. Now go get your man." @. @. @. It was neither Alec nor Isabelle who confirmed Simon and Raphael's relationship. It was a chilly night, maybe a week after Simon spoke with Izzy. There had been word of rogue vamps attacking mundanes nearby the night before, and one very annoyed blonde had been sent to get more info from the Head of the New York clan. He bounded casually up the steps, seraph blade held loosely in one hand (just in case things got ugly). He pounded on the front door of the DuMort. "Hey, bloodsuckers!" he yelled, by way of greeting. There was no response. "Creeps! Leeches! Losers!" he called, not necessarily in an aggressive tone of voice. Still, no answer. Irritated, he just picked the lock and let himself in. He knew where Raphael's office was, due to- in his opinion- an uncomfortably large number of visits. He trotted up the stairs, humming to himself, and turned the handle of the office door, pushing inward. "Hey, bro, I've been sent to ask about the-" He froze, eyes wide. As he'd walked in, Simon and Raphael had sprung apart like they'd both been electrocuted. Raphael's normally-perfect hair was disheveled, and two buttons of Simon's shirt were undone. They'd clearly been making out. The three stared at each other for several long seconds. Jace was dumbstruck. Simon was grinning awkwardly. Raphael was stone-faced for a moment, as if deciding on an emotion. Then he smirked slightly at Simon. "Guess the cat's out of the bag now, isn't it?" "Guess so," Simon responded, comfortably taking the other vampire's hand. Jace was still looking back and forth, mouth agape, trying to process. "You... you're... what, dating?" Raphael shrugged. "Yeah, seemed like about time. I got some advice recently-" "And so did I," added Simon. "-and we both ended up agreeing that it was damn good advice, so here we are." "Thank Magnus and Izzy for us, would you?" This was another bomb in Jace's mind. "Wait, they both knew?!" "Yeah, man," Simon told him, like it should have been obvious. "Clary, too." "I'm also pretty sure Alec was eavesdropping when I spoke to Magnus about it," Raphael put in. Jace groaned. "So I'm literally the only person who didn't know?" "Yeah, pretty much."

[writerpyre]

Is this tumblr-having-ads-on-personal-blogs a new thing or am I just stupidly unobservant? I was just looking down a buddy's blog and hello there's a Specsavers ad in the middle there. Wtf?

[awesomenell65]

Starting a fresh post because it’s a fresh topic, really.

@hotarurea wrote: I don’t understand this glorifying of Grounders at all. I don’t particularly care for them as a group of people, I care about specific grounder characters and am looking forward to knowing them better/meeting new characters who seem interesting but I don’t see the need for Bellamy to gain any respect for their culture or leaders because they constantly deny him or his people that respect back. 

And the topic is. I think I’m getting a new tumblr crush! Which allows me to spew on one of my obsessions. Behind the cut, for kindness.

 That gif set that goes ‘round periodically, the one with Lincoln yelling at Clarke ‘you people are so soft!’..... ��you know that one?

Its popularity, that the scene even exists, is one of the elements that simultaneously confirms the line reading - that the Arkers are soft, and the Grounders are hardened survivors - and at the same time presents the Grounders as a monolithic, unquestioning, unobservant whole. I mean “You people!!!” ..... how many tragic stories start that way?

(Setting aside the general silliness of the line which is lifted from 1,000,000,001 stories from all media - professional and amatuer - about the moment when the civilized (white usually) lady meets the savage (man usually), and then she ‘proves’ her toughness with some suitably bloody act.... Okay. S1 had. Issues. Mmkay. Moving on.)

But S1 absolutely set up a dynamic where the Grounders assume that after one look at people who don’t wear scraps of leather quilted together with lots of buckles and raggedy bits of badly tanned fur - that they know all there is to know about them, and that they must be ‘soft.’ Lincoln’s line only made it text.

Lincoln does this despite having watched these kids nearly from the moment they stumbled blinking out into the sun. And then they lost Jasper - and then they WENT BACK TO GET HIM. Knowing full well by then that they were facing human enemies that they couldn’t see who wanted to kill them. Then they hauled Jasper’s ass back to their ship to save him. And then they tortured Lincoln (!!) for information about how to save their friend.

Meanwhile they also started hunting successfully, harvesting, building walls and shelters, stripped their ship for usuable parts, created weapons, tents, tools, water basins, cooking utensils, smoking huts, all of it from everything avilable to them using information and skills they already possessed (Charles Pike? Was a fucking GOOD teacher... maybe he really did win that election on his own merits, and not just because people were upset with Kane)...

But still our writers had Lincoln - and all the Grounders he was giving voice to in that instant - look at these disciplined, knowledgable, resilient, tough as nails kids and dismiss them as “soft.”

Because the narrative the show runners were contsructing required it, because they were - intentionally or not - falling back on Settlers v. Indians as their primary source of dramatic tension. 

And the show runners have continued this in every season since. They have never allowed the Grounders to display the slightest curiosity about the Ark, or its survivors. They have never allowed them to ask a single question about their lives before  (on screen). Vs. Kane or Octavia or Clarke or Jaha, to whom they have given an earnest desire to learn everything they can about their new neighbors. 

A curioustiy the writers then had their Grounders disdain and dismiss as a weakness at every opporutnity (by beating the crap out of any questioner at every opportunity) -- because the writers have trapped the Grounders in stasis, in an unchanging bubble built a few years after the catasrophe and never once allowed to alter thereafter -- despite the decades and generations passing since that moment. Because -- in the end, they are still writing Settlers v. Indians, no matter how complex the polity they’ve now allowed the Grounders to have, it’s still an unchanging monolith built on stasis and rejection of any new information/conditions.

This narrative structure - Settlers v. Indians - isn’t the whole of the story, of course. It’s more like a ...... (flails for a phrase) an undertow, sometimes a riptide - but it’s not on the surface, it’s not “the PLOT” per se.

Because, of course, among other things, we already know - thanks to the same writers - from the split focus of S1, that it’s really fucking hard to live in space. The Arkers are - in fact - a preposterously scary bunch of very tough people. 

But the narrative has had this really weird dualism thing going on from teh start. The Grounders are presented as scary, but not the Arkers. When it’s the Arkers, in terms of straight up onscreen body count, who are BY FAR the MOST HORRIFYING BUNCH OF INTENTIONAL KILLERS we’ve ever met in this story ‘verse. 

And yet in dialogue, and in the way the people of the Ark are regarded and treated by the ‘savage’ ‘revenge is a dish best served hot and steamy’ ‘have a little crucifixion and torture with your lunch’ Grounders, or by the vampires at Mt. Weather who just want to eat them ..... almost no one inside the show who opposes the Ark has been allowed to be at all aware of just how often their clocks are cleaned by these people whom they hold in contempt as soft and weak.

Even though they actually gave Bellamy a line about this very thing! And very late in the game, Indra appears to be noticing the obvious. Roan too, I think, though he hasn’t had an explicit acknolwedgement in dialogue yet. (And there is an argument to be made that Nia understood, at least dimly, when she went after the resources the Arkers were still exploiting from the Mountain...)

And that expressed attitude (contempt for the Arkers) on the part of the Grounders and the Mt. Weather vampires - that attitude has often been adopted by many fans to explain that it is the Arkers who were/are at this really mammothly huge disadvangate with regard to the peoples they meet on earth. (Their small number is of course a problem, but it’s just about their only problem in terms of spec’ing out who will come out on top. All they really need is a few key ‘native’ allies, and they’re golden, basically. If you use European colonization of the New World as a guide...)

Which leaves me at a bit of a loss when it comes to deciding what the show runners are intending - am I supposed to believe my eyes or my ears?

Because both/and - the usual approach - doesn’t really make much sense in this case. The Arkers are weak and stupid and a supreme disadvantage - AND - in the last six months of universe time, they’ve killed more people - intentionally! - by themselves! - than the rest of them put together. My ears tell me they are weak and out of their depth. My eyes tell me the Arkers are truly righteous mother fuckers when it comes to dealing death and surviving on the run.

In the end, I’ve settled on the idea that - as the writers have written the Grounders in this way, as savage, as violent, as uncompromising, as blood thirsty, as collectively stupidly unobservant - unique and lovely individual Grounders whom I desperately want to survive notwithstanding (!!!) - I can only follow their lead. 

Therefore, for me, the Grounders are - as a whole - a hot mess and I don’t care that their manifestly horrible society is ending. It was rotten and fragile and of course it will/has broken in the face of incontrovertible new evidence that everything they have ever believed about their world was bullshit built on lies. 

*I* didn’t do this to them. Their creators did. 

I’m simply taking them as presented to me. 

And as presented to me, Bellamy owes the Grounders - as a polity, as a whole - jack shit. They have set out to eliminate him and his people from the day the 100 fell to earth, fleeing their dying home. They are his enemies. Full Stop.

Now, in story, the Grounders have a very stark choice. Suck it up and work with the Ark and (maybe) survive, or don’t and die. I hope my individual favs choose to work with them. I hope most of the rest will get on board in time (though I suspect they won’t be written that way, the show runners appear to like using large numbers of off-screen death as a short hand for ‘really fucking serious problem’) because they don’t deserve to die merely for being closed minded and having had very bad leadership for generations. But in no way do I think Bellamy, or any of the rest of the surviving remant of the Ark, need to ‘learn to respect’ the Grounders. It’s the other way around, at this point.

And weridly? I suspect that this is the story my eyes will continue to indicate is being told, whatever my ears hear. Because... we all know the end of Settlers v. Indians, right? Settlers win. Indians, mostly die or are expelled, and a very very few choose to assimilate and adapt. And that riptide is ... very very strong.

[kykyelric]

The Ice Prince’s Rose Garden Ch. 3

I’m about two chapters behind on my tumblr posts for this fanfic. If you would like to check the latest update, see my AO3 post! 

Word Count: ~1700 

“Y-Your highness!” Yuuri gasped, the prince’s gaze freezing him to his soul. Then he bowed low, his dark bangs hanging over his eyes, slightly obscuring his view of the Ice Prince. He clenched his jaw and held his ground. Chris says he doesn’t punish… excessively. I have nothing to worry about.

“Hah.” Click. Click. Click……

Yuuri raised his head as he heard the footsteps echo away from him. He caught a glimpse of the back of the prince just before he turned a corner and out of sight.

His hair was disheveled. Does that mean he came from outside?

The curiosity from earlier sparked inside him again, and Yuuri glanced around. But the prince had seemingly come from nowhere, probably due to Yuuri’s intense concentration before. Yuuri inwardly cursed himself. How could he be so stupidly unobservant?!

Yuuri sighed and let his feet carry him back to his room, his neck this time hanging back as he gazed at the dull, grey ceiling. The rose… Flan… Even the little sounds the prince had made just then didn’t add up to the perception others had of him. He didn’t seem like a cold person at all. Maybe his gaze was harsh, (and that did scare Yuuri quite a bit) but appearances weren’t everything, right?

But appearances are a lot. Even if they aren’t everything.

Yuuri had settled into his room when he remembered something he had forgotten to unpack. Taking the few steps necessary to reach the box of his belongings, he fished around inside until he revealed it. My ink and paper.

The paper had been crinkled after the incident earlier that day, and Yuuri smoothed it out as best as he could, his fingers lovingly caressing the ripped edges. Then he took a pen from within the desk, dipped in one of his bottles of ink, and scratched out a message on the paper.

Dear Minami,

I hope you are doing well. I have arrived at the Prince’s Palace safely, so please do not worry about me.

Though it is quite a drastic change from the King’s Palace, I have met several of the staff who seem friendly. I’m sure I will adjust in time.

Please take care of yourself while I am not there to watch over your every movement. I know how distracted you can get.

Sincerely,

Yuuri Katsuki

Setting down his pen, Yuuri made sure to dry the tip before he put it back inside the desk. Then he blew on the wrinkled paper, folded it, and placed it in an envelope that he had discovered within the desk. “He’ll be happy to hear from me,” Yuuri whispered, reminiscing about the young servant who had been assigned to him at the King’s Palace. “I hope he’s doing okay.”

A knock that Yuuri could only describe as joyful came from his door, and he approached it from his desk to reveal a grinning Chris.

“Yuuri! I’m finally done with dinner prep. Let’s go eat!”

Yuuri smiled slightly. “Sure. Wait just a second.”

Leaving the door ajar, Yuuri went back to the desk and grabbed the envelope, placing it in his pocket before returning to an impatient Chris. “Alright. We can go.”

“Yes! The food only gets colder the longer we wait.”

Yuuri let Chris lead him to the dining hall, which was boisterous with activity. “You… don’t eat with the officials?” Yuuri asked, glancing about in confusion.

“No. Why would we?” Chris responded, with an equally as confused expression. He gestured to the sight of the other servants passionately sharing stories and shoving food onto their friends’ plates. “This is the only time we can really relax. We wouldn’t even have this time if we had to eat with the officials.”

Makes sense. The Ice Prince would really ruin the mood.

The dining hall was the only room larger than the King’s Palace’s counterpart. There was a space along the far side that was reserved for officials, and was currently empty. The rest of the space was lined with table after table of servants, cooks, and other staff members. The food looked good, Yuuri thought, though the walls and ceiling were as sparsely decorated as the rest of the castle.

Chris dragged him down the stairs and to an empty spot on one of the tables. A large turkey sat in front of them, bottles of some sort of drink littering the space around it. Chris piled a plate with food and handed it to Yuuri, who accepted it awkwardly. He looked up at Chris helplessly. Some help please? Instead, Chris disappeared into the crowd, something catching his eye.

Before he could feel overwhelmed, there was a pull on his right sleeve, and Yuuri directed his attention that way. “You’re the newbie? Hehe.”

A short man with a boyish face and smooth brown hair was hanging off his arm. Yuuri tried tugging it away, to no avail. Pursing his lips, he submitted, though unwillingly, and sat down in the spot next to him. “Yes, I’m Yuuri.” “Yuuri, Yuuri! Guang Hong, I’m Guang Hong. Greetings~~”

A chuckle came from across the table before Yuuri could form a reply. “G’s pretty drunk. Don’t take anything he says seriously.”

The man who had spoken was an amicable face. His shoulder-length, wavy, brown hair was clipped out of his face, and he held a half-full glass in one hand, though the other stayed underneath the table. Yuuri recognized the position.

“Guard?”

“Yup. Name’s Leo. Let’s get along."

“Yes, let’s.”

“Sorry about G, here. He’s a lightweight.”

Yuuri laughed. “That’s obvious.”

Laughing with him, Leo took a deep gulp from his cup. “They do make a good persimmon wine though.”

The familiar fruit caught Yuuri’s attention. “Persimmon wine?”

“Yup. Here, have some.” Leo poured the golden pink drink into Yuuri’s empty cup.

A single sip of the liquid filled Yuuri’s mouth with a light, sparkling taste. It was sweet, but not sugary like most of the wine he had had at the King’s Palace. When he swallowed, the alcohol burned pleasantly down his throat and settled gently in his stomach. He took another sip, and felt his cheeks warm.

“Good, huh?”

Yuuri nodded, motioning for more, to which Leo smiled and refilled his cup.

By this time Guang Hong had passed out on the table, completely defenseless. Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri noticed that Leo’s arm that wasn’t holding his drink was tense. It was kind of cute. He’s so protective. Or maybe that was the alcohol talking.

A lump collapsed on the seat to Yuuri’s left, making Yuuri jump. One glance revealed it to be Chris. “Chris! What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked, his hands wavering over his new friend’s body, which was slumped over against him.

Leo pursed his lips. “He’s drugged.”

“What?” Yuuri exclaimed, glaring at Leo. “He’s not just drunk?"

“Look at his face.”

Yuuri took Chris’ chin gently in his hand and turned it to face him. His eyes were lolling, his mouth drooling. He didn’t look completely like a drunkard. That was concerning.

“I better take him somewhere to recover,” Yuuri whispered, his eyebrows scrunching in concern. Leo stood up, a frown now set on his face. “I’ll help you.”

He heard me…? Yuuri was shocked. No. He read my lips.

Leo walked around the end of the table, lifted Guang Hong over one shoulder, and turned to Yuuri. “Give me one of his arms.”

Yuuri struggled to lift Chris, but eventually shifted him so that half was leaning on Leo, half on him. Then the four of them trekked across the dining room, up the stairs, and out the doors.

As the doors shut behind them, a rumble shook the building, causing Yuuri and Leo to stumble. Chris fell to the floor between them, but Leo managed to keep his grip on Guang Hong. Yuuri spun around, and ran forward towards the dining room. Something had happened, something big.

Yuuri had barely opened the door when, he felt an iron grip fasten around his wrist, restraining him. “Yuuri. Don’t.” A pair of brown eyes gazed into his, and Yuuri froze. “Turn around.”

“Walk.”

Yuuri mechanically picked up Chris with Leo and mechanically took a step forward, following Leo’s calming voice. But inside, he was shaking, the shock setting in.

That was an explosion. There were men with swords in there. And the silver hair… Was that Pri-

“…ri. Yuuri.”

Yuuri snapped back to reality, gasping. They were standing in front of an unfamiliar room.

“Yuuri, reach inside my back pocket. There’s a key in there.”

Reaching into the pocket with his free hand, Yuuri felt around until he grasped the shape of a key. He pulled it out and inserted it into the doorknob that Leo nodded to, then pulled the door open.

The four of them stumbled inside, dropping Chris and Guang Hong onto the bed that lay on the right side of the room. Leo sighed before closing the door behind them, pushing a motionless Yuuri forward. Then he put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I… I’m fine,” Yuuri stumbled. His mind was fuzzy, and he felt like jelly, but nothing hurt, not physically.

“Good. Go over and sit there,” Leo pointed to the chair by the single window on the far wall. Yuuri followed his directions, sinking gratefully into the soft plush.

While Leo cared for the unconscious Chris and Guang Hong, Yuuri gazed out at the dark night sky, speckled with stars that glittered coldly in the night air. Yuuri thought an echo of a crash reached his ears, but it could’ve been anything, really. A rock thrown at the wall, a bird pecking at a window.

At least that’s what he tried to tell himself.

After an immeasurable amount of time, Leo came and sat on the windowsill by Yuuri. “I want you to forget what you saw,” he whispered.

Yuuri dragged his gaze from the window to the guard. He saw that Leo’s hand was on his side, obscuring some sort of weapon. A knife, perhaps. “Why is that?”

“You weren’t meant to see that. You just arrived here. You’re fresh.”

“I’m… fresh?”

“Yeah, not turned. Most people turn with time. You just haven’t got enough of it.”

Yuuri was thoroughly confused. What did his time here have to do with anything? “O…kay?” But it was more of an acceptance rather than a concession.

Leo patted his shoulder anyway. “Good. You can stay here tonight, if you’d like. I need to go out, so can you watch those two?” he gestured to the figures on the bed, barely illuminated by the moonlight.

“Sure,” Yuuri said, still not quite understanding.

Leo nodded and left, softly shutting the door behind him.

Frowning, Yuuri sat down slowly on the bed, gazing down at Chris and Guang Hong. Chris had stopped drooling, and his expression was normal. That was good.

Leo made it sound like he was a part of whatever happened… Like a lot of people are involved. I wonder if Chris and Guang Hong are…

Yuuri ran a hand through his dark locks, combing out a particular knot when he found one. But then again, Leo seemed to be pretty protective. He wouldn’t let Guang Hong get drunk, would he?

Yuuri got up from the bed and began pacing the room. The view from the window wasn’t very exciting; it only showed the wall rising up from the western side of the palace. Guards paced the top, bows in hand.

But the galaxy extended out above the wall, the stars shaping in ways Yuuri did not understand, but felt. The familiar shapes were comforting, a similarity to his old life in the King’s Palace.

Yuuri realized he had stopped pacing by the window and slapped his cheeks to try and force some sense back into himself. There was always chaos at the castles. Right? This wasn’t serious.

Then there was a shift in the mood of the wall. The guards began to move frantically across their posts, gaining Yuuri’s attention. Then there was a flare, just outside of the view of the window, but close enough for Yuuri to see the brightening of the area.

“Ah! What’s going on…?”

Then a body fell from the wall.  

[1989dreamer]

Chapter 4 of Looking for a Place to Call Home

Please note: I am not a medical professional. I do basic research. If I got something wrong, don't hesitate to let me know. Thanks!

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Derek wakes up when Stiles sets the cage on the kitchen floor before he goes back to get the supplies he bought at the pet store. As soon as Derek sees the bags of dog food, his stomach flips. On the one hand, what the vet gave him earlier was not enough and he’s hungry again. But on the other hand she used to feed him dog food when he’d been particularly misbehaving. He doesn’t think he’s done anything to piss off Stiles, but maybe not letting the deputy take pictures of him was a worthy offense of having to eat kibble.

Derek whines in discomfort, and suddenly Stiles stoops down next to him.

“I know, buddy,” he says, “but I can’t feed you on orders of the vet. I can ask him if you can have any water. I think you can but I forgot to ask. I’m sorry about that.”

Derek shrugs as best he can despite being in the shape of a wolf. Going without water is nothing new to him, and Stiles truly seems apologetic about forgetting to ask Scott before leaving the vet clinic.

He whines again, nosing at the door of the cage. He wants out, wants to follow Stiles around and explore the house. He doesn’t want to be stuck in this prison all night.

“No,” Stiles says, like that’s the end of it. He moves away, phone to his ear as he calls Scott. While he is preoccupied, Derek practices shifting back to human.

The cage is too small for him to shift fully, and it takes more energy than he has but he finds that if he concentrates hard enough he is able to maintain a human hand instead of a wolf paw. He lets it melt back to wolf and licks it.

Stiles taps the top of the cage, and Derek shoots him an unimpressed glare despite being startled. He should have heard him even with his dulled hearing.

“You can have water as long as I remember to take it away before your surgery at 10:00 tomorrow morning. Scott said you can be out of the carrier too as long as there’s nothing for you to eat. I’m thinking the bathroom would be a good place for you.”

He lugs the cage down a short hallway past a garish red couch and two closed doors before he backs into the bathroom. The first thing Derek sees is the toilet, and he stares at it, wrinkling his nose. The lid is down and it’s covered by a cushion that matches the same hideous red of the couch.

Derek whimpers to remind Stiles that he’s still in the cage. Stiles, of course, doesn’t understand him, and he moves away when his phone starts ringing.

“Stilinski.”

Derek can’t hear the person on the other side, but from Stiles’ clipped responses and the brisk way he said his name, it’s his workplace.

“Yeah, I can come in.” The look he gives Derek is sad. “No. I’m not doing anything too important. All right. I’ll be there in fifteen. Bye.”

Stiles shoves his phone in his pocket and kneels next to the cage. “So, buddy,” he says. “I’ve gotta go fill out some paperwork. Will you be okay by yourself?”

Derek huffs, nuzzling at the hand that Stiles sticks through the wire door.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Stiles opens the cage and Derek bounds out. He starts sniffing everything, starting with the toilet and Stiles’ hamper of dirty clothes. Stiles watches him amused.

“Okay, buddy, I have to go now. I’ll try to be home soon.” Stiles pats Derek’s head and leave the bathroom. He closes and locks the door behind him.

It would make Derek worry, but the door can only lock from the inside so he isn’t locked in, the world is locked out.

He waits until he hears Stiles’ vehicle pull away before he concentrates on shifting back to being fully human.

It’s a painful process that takes longer than Derek can afford, but when he’s done, he can stand up on his shaky legs. The food the vet gave him must be providing the energy he’s using now. With his even-shakier hands, Derek is able to pry up the lid to the toilet so that he can aim a stream into the bowl.

It doesn’t occur to him until he’s flushed and washed his hands that he should have pissed in a corner. Oh well. He’ll be here all night. He can do it later.

For now though, he wants to explore Stiles’ house. The door is easily unlocked and then he wanders from room to room, looking at the trinkets and artifacts of Stiles’ life.

In the room closest to the bathroom, Derek finds stacks of boxes that smell faintly of a woman’s perfume. Honestly, it feels like an un-set up shrine, and the dead-feel of it makes Derek’s skin crawl.

The next room is Stiles’ bedroom, and Derek spends some time tolling across the unmade bed, smelling Stiles’ strong, spicy scent. As humans go, it’s appealing. Derek wishes Stiles would let him sleep in here with him instead of in the bathroom.

Odds are good that he’ll have the dog bed in there with him.

First chance he gets, Derek is going to sleep on the couch—in wolf form or human.

By the time he recalls that Stiles will be home at some point this night, Derek has explored the whole house, returning to and relocking himself in the bathroom.

He would have eaten during his excursion since he’s still starving, but even an unobservant human would notice if his meager stash of microwavable Hot Pockets suddenly depleted. Especially if that human lives alone.

Instead, Derek decides to satiate his hunger with cold water.

The sink is a little tricky since neither handle is labeled and one sticks until he can exert a bit more strength than an average almost-sixteen year old would have. Eventually, though, he figures out which is the cold tap and drinks until his stomach distends from it and hurts a little bit. He can feel his intestines starting to cramp.

Maybe a hot bath would help?

It’s been almost a year since his last shower. No wonder Stiles wanted to give him a bath earlier.

Derek digs through the different bottles of soap lined up neatly on the edge of the tub. Nothing smells good enough to use, not even the mostly empty bottle of Irish Spring that Stiles obviously uses regularly.

Another cramp hits and he doubles over clutching at his roiling stomach. He imagines that deep in his bowels he can feel the worms Scott said he had bunching together and wriggling around. It hurts enough to rip a whimper from him.

Derek curls as tightly as he can, knees up to his chest, arms wrapped around his stomach. He lies on his side on the floor, crying in pain as a large mass travels through his bowels and splatters against the tiles when he can’t hold it in.

In the middle of another contraction, the bathroom door smashes open and Stiles, service weapon in hand, stares down at Derek’s naked, heaving body in horror.

“Who are you?” Stiles demands, anger and fear roughening his tone.

Derek doesn’t respond. To do so is not an option.

The last time he told someone his name, she abducted him and stole him away to the other side of the country.

Instead, stupidly, Derek begins shifting, hands turning to paws, nose lengthening into a muzzle. Fur sprouts over his body and his bones crack as they break apart and reform into something else. And through it all, his gut clenches and more mess spills out of him.

In the midst of the pain of the shift and the pain from the worms his body is expelling, Derek fails to notice Stiles lifting another weapon from his belt, aiming it at him, and pulling the trigger.

Fire burns against Derek’s skin, and he screams, completely human again. He sobs at the growing pain, tracking it to a trio of barbs stuck in his skin.

Electricity—taser—she’s back! She found him!

Derek curls tighter, crying harder from the pain and fear.

“Hey, hey,” Stiles says, soothingly, his hand coming to rest on Derek’s shoulder. At least he’s stopped the flow of electricity—even if Derek can still feel it twitching in his muscles. He’s still in pain, still cramping and shitting, but at least Stiles isn’t adding to his hurt anymore. “That’s it. Good boy.” A tiny pinprick registers, and Derek turns his head to see Stiles tossing away a used syringe.

Derek’s head swims, a heavy sensation pressing against his eyes, forcing his head back down.

He’s too disconnected, though, to be angry at Stiles’ second betrayal, but he vows to hate the man with his whole being when he’s himself again…if he survives this.

Whatever was in the syringe is making his whole body stiff and weighted down but it also makes his mind soar high, and Derek passes out between one breath and the next.

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Stiles isn’t sure what to think. One minute he’s heading into his bathroom to check on Miguel because he can hear him whimpering in pain and the next he’s come face to face with a stranger who begins changing into another creature right before his eyes.

He paces, hands in his hair. Where is Miguel? And why did the boy, a teenager with overgrown hair and frail frame, look like he was turning into a wolf—a black wolf?

Using the toe of his boot, Stiles turns the boy onto his side. The stench of diarrhea makes Stiles grimace. It’s watery and icky and moving.

Wait, what?

Stiles leans closer, holding his breath. The crap smeared all over the boy’s lower half and the floor beneath him is definitely wriggling. Or rather, the worms in the crap are wriggling.

Stiles backs away, thinking.

“Miguel?” he whispers out loud. Predictably, the boy doesn’t respond. It fits, though, Stiles knows. The boy is in the bathroom where Stiles left Miguel. Miguel isn’t here anymore and instead the boy is.

Scott was right though, the wolf had worms. He’ll want a sample. Stiles makes a face but goes to grab one of the canning jars his dad gifted him a few Christmases back when Stiles went through a phase of preserving or pickling everything he could.

Using a disposable spoon, and double-gloved with latex-free single-use gloves, Stiles scoops some of the fecal matter into the jar, making sure to catch a few dozen worms for good measure.

Then, he bags the jar, with the lid sealed with clear packing tape, into a dozen or so t-shirt bags.

Scott will be so pleased to have this sample, Stiles thinks.

Through it all, the boy—Miguel really—still sleeps on. Stiles thinks it’s more from exhaustion than from the ketamine he injected the boy with.

No, ketamine isn’t standard issue (in fact, without Stiles’ prescription, it’s not legal at all), but after the number one incident on his list of weird things, Stiles has taken to carrying a tiny amount for emergencies.

Stiles really should call someone about the boy. His first instinct is to call his dad, after all, John was the sheriff for nearly fifteen years before he lost the last election to Michael Lahey, Isaac’s father. But, what would his dad know about shape-shifters, specifically lycanthropes?

Then, Stiles thinks of Animal Control. And immediately discards that thought because Miguel is still human. Boyd and Lahey might report him for ‘playing a prank.’

That just leaves Scott. Scott who just treated Miguel. Scott who closes his place of business in like fifteen minutes.

Stiles fumbles his phone from his pocket, dialing the number for the clinic quickly.

“Beacon Hills Vet Clinic,” Scott answers. Stiles sends a silent thank you skyward.

“Scot, Scotty. I know you’re closing  but I have an emergency with Miguel. He took a shit and all these little worms—each one barely bigger than a fingernail clipping—came out of him. I’m freaking out here, man.”

“Did he eat anything after what I fed him?”

Stiles hasn’t had a chance to check that, but he doesn’t think so. He would have smelled anything Miguel nuked to eat unless he ate it frozen. The teeth, he recalls, would most likely make that not an issue. “No,” Stiles decides. Miguel probably would have thrown up too instead of just defecating all over the place.

“Are the worms moving?”

Stiles looks down at the mess that he still needs to clean up. “Yep,” he says. “They are definitely moving.”

“Okay. Was the…shit solid or—?”

“Liquid. Diarrhea, actually.”

“Okay, well, that’s a normal reaction to the medication I gave him. But if you’re still unsure, go ahead and bring him in. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Scott, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Sure whatever. You say that now,” Scott jokes. “Just wait until I can’t do anything for Miguel because he just needs to wait it out.”

“You say that now,” Stiles parrots back. “Look, I’m going to clean him up a little, get him in the carrier, and head your way. It might take me half an hour.” Scott doesn’t answer, so Stiles hangs up.

Miguel stirs when Stiles moves closer to get a better look at him. Panicking, Stiles grabs his stun gun and shocks the boy again until he slumps back down, unconscious.

Stiles feels a lot guilty when he realizes Miguel can’t be more than fourteen or fifteen. Albeit a fourteen or fifteen year old who can shape-shift into a wolf.

Stiles sighs and tugs on his hair again. Then, he rubs his face and mutters, “Aw crap, kid.”

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MP, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14