#i need to draw him in the unicorn shirt one day. a unicorn is basically a gay horse

[fslurusami]

you know that post i made a while back abt having some lived experience shared with a character and this affecting little details and such. well it was REALLY about the stickers from bmeshop that im putting on stuff in modern au usamis room

[bubble-tea-bunny]

pool flamingo

[rohan kishibe x reader]

author’s note: idk why i’m so obsessed w rohan but i’m not tryna fight it

word count: 2,188

In the midst of summer, the heat grows to levels of moderate discomfort before the clocks even strike noon, so that when it finally is twelve o’clock, with the sun in the center of the sky, the temperature is nothing less than absolutely sweltering, and it would remain as such until the later hours of evening. A reprieve from the relentless intensity is never truly achieved until the skies turn orange and then black, and the sun is replaced by the moon.

The weather gives Rohan the perfect excuse to remain inside, working tirelessly on the newest volume of Pink Dark Boy. Though it isn’t as if he needs an excuse, and he has no shame in turning down invitations to lunch or whatever else comes his way, with the blunt explanation that he much prefers to spend his time continuing his manga.

He hunches over his desk, pen flying, sectioning out each page into the appropriate number of panels, drawing scene after scene. The first draft is the final draft, the shading and the line work clean the first time around, as is to be expected. His deadline is the end of the week but he’ll be able to send it in for publishing before then.

His focus is broken at the sound of footsteps padding down the hallway and he pauses, careful to lift the nib of his pen from the paper to avoid leaving a dark spot. He listens closely as the thud of bare feet on wood flooring becomes louder while passing by the door to his study, then fading as they move away. They come back, however, now accompanied by a knock on the door.

“Rohan, come out and join me!”

Your voice is chipper, easy to surmise even though muffled. Rohan shakes his head despite the fact you can’t see, and speaks up to be heard from across the room and through the door.

“I’m busy.”

It’s quiet on the other side for a few moments, but you’re not one to be discouraged. You push on. “It’s not so bad today! There’s a breeze!”

You really are trying, aren’t you? Rohan will never tell you that had been the only prodding required, that he is already convinced and yes, he’ll go out and join you, because that would go to your head, the realization that you don’t need much to convince him of anything. And he couldn’t be having you get supercilious. There is just room for one like that in this relationship, and he had already taken it for himself.

He replaces the cap on his pen and sets it to the side before he stands, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. His muscles seem to sigh in relief, for his posture when he’s deeply concentrated is nothing short of atrocious. He doesn’t notice how long he sits, hours flying by like seconds. You’d scolded him more than once on the occasion you had come into his study with a snack and a reminder for him to rest his eyes, lamenting that he was much too young to start giving himself long-term back and neck pain. He would always wave you off and tell you he’s fine, but your soft admonition to at least do his best to take regular breaks sits in the back of his mind. He’s working on it.

As he steps away from his desk, he glances at the clock, which shows him that it’s mid-morning. If he had to guess, he had been drafting the new volume for a couple of hours so far today. That was time for you to wake up, make breakfast, and decide this was another perfect day for your summer activity of choice.

Rohan’s hand curls around the doorknob and he pulls it back, revealing you on the other side, still standing patiently, watching him expectantly. He feigns disdain, huffing loudly, but you’re undeterred, and perhaps he is wrong and there is indeed space for both of you to be smug, because the look in your eyes makes it clear you know exactly how tightly wound Rohan is around your pinky.

“Must I?” But Rohan can’t help but tease, tugging on the reins a bit, if only to see your reactions.

You scoff at the absurdity of the question and laugh. “Yes, you must! I don’t want to be out there by myself!”

The corner of Rohan’s mouth lifts, a small smile betraying his amusement. “Fine then. I won’t let you flounder around on your own.”  

You smile too, satisfied that he is finally agreeing. “Thank you,” you respond playfully.

“Where would you be without me?” Rohan muses, staring down at you.

“I dunno.” You shrug. “But I’d be a lot lonelier.”

Perhaps it is the matter-of-fact tone with which you say this that makes his heart jump with something like love, and there is the nearly imperceptible melting away of a small piece of his haughty facade. You pick up on it of course—you are nothing if not observant—but you stay quiet because you know such fondness is entirely unbecoming of the great Rohan Kishibe, and you wouldn’t embarrass him by addressing it and forcing him to admit it out loud. His heart skips another beat and maybe it isn’t with something that is just like love.

“I’ll be out there in a few minutes,” he informs you.

“You better!”

He watches you walk down the hall and disappear around the corner, and chuckles as he turns back into his study to grab a few materials to bring downstairs with him.

Even if Josuke had done him the disservice of burning down his house, Rohan hadn’t been particularly bothered. Well, not about the house. Witnessing the structure go up in flames had further fueled his hatred for the high schooler, yes, but the matter of rebuilding left him indifferent. He had the money to do it and to make any new renovations he so pleased. One such addition to the Kishibe residence, version 2.0, was a pool.

He had it built for you. You would frequently visit the community pool, spending a couple of hours swimming, until your fingers were pruned and the chlorine had thoroughly seeped into your hair, prompting you to make a beeline straight for the shower upon arriving at his house. You basically live in the water, and he wanted to give you a space to swim privately, where you could have the whole pool to yourself.

And when he says it had been just for you, he meant it. Once the others had discovered what he did to the backyard, he promptly shut down any of their ideas of having a pool party. It was only at Koichi’s insistence that he had allowed it, on a particularly hot Saturday a couple of weeks ago. Thinking back on it now, he supposes it wasn’t awful, since you seemed happy to have everyone there. But even despite that, he isn’t keen on having another party anytime soon.

The light blue water glistens blindingly due to the sun and Rohan has to squint as he steps outside. White pool chairs are positioned in the shade, and he settles down in one as he observes you where you kneel on the flagstone, right at the edge of the pool, pushing giant floats into the water: first a dinosaur, then a unicorn, and lastly, a flamingo. You bought them because of the pool Rohan added, for there would never have been enough room at the community pool to use anything bigger than a simple tube. Now, you like to keep your eye out for more fun ones to add to your collection.

You watch the flamingo drift into the center, leaving gentle ripples in its wake, and then you stand, shedding your shorts and loose shirt to reveal your red one piece swimsuit. You leave your clothes in a small pile on the ground, then waste no more time diving in. Your fluid form and smooth descent make merely a quiet splash, and your figure is wavy and unfocused beneath the water, simply a group of colors moving beneath the surface. Several seconds later, you pop your head up.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” you inquire.

Rohan sits back and shakes his head. “I’m fine here.”

You grin. “Suit yourself.” You dive back under.

The heat is considerably less severe in the shade, but it’s still warm enough that Rohan’s thoughts are on the air conditioner, and how wonderful it would feel while he works on his manga. He has no qualms about keeping the air on full blast, as it was currently, the rooms kept cool for your return back indoors. Better to be too cold than too hot.

His newest volume is almost finished now, a few pages short, and he’s itching to get back to it. He tries to feel exasperated about being outside, playing it off as if he’d been dragged out here by no will of his own, just as he feels whenever someone asks if he’d like to go out (And bear this weather? he asks, upfront about how stupid he thinks the suggestion is. Forget about it.) But you aren’t just someone, and Rohan wouldn’t ever be irritated with you. So for once, he forces himself to relax and endure the warmth. And you’re right—at least there is a breeze today.

A quiet clack grabs his attention and Rohan opens his eyes to see you reaching out for your sunglasses which you had set on the side to keep dry. You set them on your head and drift over to the flamingo, clambering on a little clumsily due to the wetness of your skin. The pink vinyl squelches as you maneuver your way onto the flamingo, and once you’re finally on, you roll onto your back, sighing contentedly and sliding your sunglasses over your face.

They’re heart-shaped and a shade of red to match your suit. Rohan likes them. He thinks they look good on you. And he also thinks you belong on a magazine cover or a two-page spread, a picture to complement the paragraphs dreaming of a perfect summer, of the hot sun and cold water, of wet hair and the smell of chlorine (or salt, if one finds themselves at the beach). He can’t tell if you’ve fallen asleep, but you look so peaceful, so at ease, and deep down he will admit, though scornfully, that Josuke’s screw-up did have an upside.

Rohan reaches down to the sketchbook and pen he had brought outside with him, and flips to a blank page. His gaze shifts from the paper up to you then back down again, as he recreates the scene before him in black ink, smooth, clean lines trailing across the expanse until it all comes together—clothes discarded on the stones, the blinding water, the flamingo float. Then the subject, the main focus, the sum and substance: you stretched out and relaxed, coaxing the viewer to follow your lead, to let the stress melt from their shoulders and to join you in your stillness.

All he has left is to sign the bottom corner, but while drawing had been the initial distraction from the heat, you’re the main attraction, and he stares at you instead. Rohan prides himself on his accuracy when he draws but when it came to you, there was nothing better than the real thing. And he’d attempted to before, to capture the full essence of your person—the light of your smile and the inexplicable charm you exude when your hair is wet and tangled and drops of water cling to your lashes—as evidenced by the previous pages of the sketchbook he holds, filled with pictures of you. He might never get there, might never reach the point he’s satisfied with his depiction, but he’d never stop trying.

You notice how closely he is watching you and you turn to look at him. You lower your sunglasses slightly, until your eyes are visible, and you smile, asking what it is he’s drawing.

But you know. Of course you do. So rather than teasing, he lets you have this one and tells you exactly what he is drawing. Your smile widens and you hum, returning your sunglasses to their original position. Even from off to the side, he spots the flush of your cheeks, reddening from laying in the sun, your natural blush the most beautiful one.

“Make me look good please!”

At this, Rohan chuckles and shakes his head. You always look good, he thinks. You need no assistance there. And you are the perfect summer, floating languidly out on the water with your heart-shaped sunglasses. Maybe one night he will dream of you with a mermaid’s tail, emerald scales glistening in the sunlight because you take to the water like it’s your second home and wouldn’t that be something, to have a mermaid hidden away? His ultimate secret, his ultimate muse, lounging atop a pretty pink flamingo.

[this-is-a-love-story-fleabag]

Fork you, then (8/?)

Thanks for sticking through with me on this! I think there will be two chapters after this one, but who knows?? Fleabag saves her friend Boo’s life and earns a spot in the Good Place, but is everything here really so perfect? And what’s up with the hot priest next door? 2089 words. Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Also on ao3.

"Do you feel peaceful here?" he asks.

"Not in the slightest."

"Maybe we should look for it. Go out on a mission in search of heavenly contentment."

"If we can find some, I'm all for it," she laughs. "Plus, I definitely need a hobby other than drinking and masturbating."

"Sure, sure. We can't have you getting a strained wrist, or whatever."

In contrast to the remarkable abundance of frozen yogurt shops in the Good Place, the priest has not yet managed to find a single pub.

"It's basically a forking war crime," he laments as they make their way through the meandering streets back to his house, a bottle of wine shoved in each pocket.

"Maybe we could open one together," she says, inspecting the label of a bottle of Merlot. "I used to run a café, maybe it's the same."

"Maybe," he agrees amiably. "Sounds like a lot of work, though, when we can just drink at home."

"We'd probably be the only customers, anyway."

He opens his front door and they lounge either side of his coffee table, sprawled out on the carpet. "I sometimes wonder if we're the only bastards in heaven," he says, pouring them both a liberal glass of wine.

She lets out a peal of laughter. "I have had the exact same thought."

"I thought I'd feel more peaceful, you know?" he says, leaning back against his sofa and waving his drink for emphasis. "I've reached my eternal rest or whatever... and it's actually really forking stressful."

"At least you know you belong here, after doing all that..." she waves her hand in the air, narrowly avoiding spilling red wine on the carpet. "...priesty stuff when you were alive."

"I'm sure you-"

She cuts him off. "Were you a good priest?"

It takes him a second of thought and several sips of wine before he answers. "Yeah, I think so. I wasn't a great person before that, but I think I made up for it. Were you a good person?"

"Fork no," she laughs. "Someone up there's getting fired for this, I guarantee you."

"Come on, you must have done some good things."

"I'll let you know if I remember any." They lapse into comfortable silence for a while and he tops up her glass. She looks comfortable propped up against the armchair, loose-limbed and languid.

"Do you feel peaceful here?" he asks.

"Not in the slightest."

"Maybe we should look for it. Go out on a mission in search of heavenly contentment."

"If we can find some, I'm all for it," she laughs. "Plus, I definitely need a hobby other than drinking and masturbating."

"Sure, sure. We can't have you getting a strained wrist, or whatever."

"Here's to peace," she proposes, lifting her glass.

"To peace," he agrees.

Their first attempt at achieving inner piece does not go well. The priest has the bright idea to ask Jianyu to lead them through a Buddhist meditation. He assents with a bow and brings them into a silent clearing in the opulent grounds of Tahani's mansion, a faint whiff of buffalo sauce suffusing the air around him. He settles them cross-legged on the manicured lawn, spines straight, hands resting lightly on their knees, ready commune with the universe.

Then Jianyu opens his mouth.

An hour later, they wave him farewell and walk out of the garden, slightly dazed, and continue without speaking for a few minutes.

"So is that a typical Buddhist meditation session?" she asks, breaking their silence.

"Not... in my experience," responds the priest diplomatically. "I don't think it's usual for a monk to use the word "dope" in any context."

"I did find the part about letting go of the swamp alligators in your soul oddly helpful."

"I saw the look you gave me when he said that, you forking menace." In fact, the entire session had been a series of amused, side-eyed glances between the pair of them and a superhuman effort not to laugh.

"What does Bortles mean? Is it Sanskrit?"

"I've never heard it before, but my Sanskrit is absolute shirt, so I can't be sure."

"I know it doesn't mean 'downward-facing dog' but that's all I've got."

"Maybe he had the right idea with the whole... vow of silence thing."

"Definitely."

Tahani jumps at the chance to get involved in their self-improvement project and immediately insists that the three of them take a spa day together.

"I see you're here for the throuple's massage," says Janet brightly from behind the reception desk in the gleaming, white relaxation centre.

"That's not quite-" says the priest, just as his neighbour says "Fork yeah." He squints at her and she grins unashamedly.

"Janet, we're here to find inner peace," announces Tahani. "Set up the room to be 80% Gwyneth Paltrow's private spa and 20% Paul McCartney's five-dimensional meditation cube."

"Sure!" says Janet. "I'll go find two other Janets for the massage therapy. Go in through that door and undress, then lay face down on the massage tables. We'll be with you in a moment." She pings out of reality and the three peace-seekers head through into the treatment room. The decoration is all bare Norwegian wood and soft lighting, with gentle nature sounds playing in the background and stacks of immensely soft, fluffy towels.

The priest carefully averts his eyes as his neighbour shucks off her dress without a hint of self-consciousness, throwing it onto a chair and unsubtly checking out Tahani as she did the same.

"Are those your real tits?" she asks.

"Yes," sighs Tahani. "I've always been cursed with a large bosom. It's a nightmare trying to find couture that fits."

"Sure. Difficult."

He manages somehow to take off all of his clothes with a towel wrapped firmly around his waist, drawing an amused, knowing glance. He slides onto the table and covers himself with another towel so that every inch of his body save his head is completely hidden.

"Hi," says Janet, popping back into existence with two other Janets in tow, one in a neat, green pantsuit with a beaming grin, and one in skin-tight leather trousers who was fiddling with her phone. "There weren't two Good Place Janets available, so I've had to borrow one Bad Janet to help out."

"What up, fart-goblins," says Bad Janet. "I'm here to touch your butts."

"Who wants to go first?" asks Good Janet #1.

The priest is amused but not at all surprised to see his neighbour raise her hand.

Michael's idea for them to find inner peace is to send them out into the centre of the lake in a rowing boat in the middle of a scorching hot day with a picnic basket and instructions to enjoy themselves. At this, they do not entirely succeed.

"How am I sunburned in heaven?" wails the priest later, applying aloe to the peeling red patches on his chest. "This is the most Irish thing to ever happen to anyone."

"How did you get sunburned through your shirt?" she asks, her sure, cold fingers rubbing in soothing circles over his shoulder.

"I don't know," he whines, leaning into her touch as her hands drift over his skin, cooling the burn.

She mutters something that sounds like "his beautiful neck", then clears her throat and turns away to get more lotion. "I don't think Michael has a strong grasp on what it's like to have human skin."

"Well, that's two down. Who should we ask next?"

"No, nuh-uh," says Chidi firmly as Eleanor paces along his living room.

"Come on, man, it's just one little threesome! What harm could it do?"

"OK, first of all, I would really prefer that our relationship remain monogamous, but most importantly, we're trying to teach her that you can't solve all your problems by ignoring them and just having sex with people."

She scoffs. "Agree to disagree."

"Eleanor..."

"Fine, I'll take them... rollerblading, or whatever, but I maintain that your objection is total bullshirt."

It's about 3AM on a warm, still night, when the priest clambers up the rose trellis and raps on his neighbour's window. Fortunately for his delicate constitution, she is not wearing frilly underthings. Unfortunately for his stupid heart, she's wearing a pair of pyjamas that she stole from his wardrobe, and she looks adorable in them.

"Father," she greets him. "What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, so stumblest on my counsel?"

"Fork, I was going to open with 'soft, what light through yonder window breaks', and you ruined it."

"So, wherefore art thou climbing up my forking walls in the middle of the night?" She leans over the windowsill, framed in the warm light from inside, and part of him aches to reach up a little further and meet her red lips in a soft kiss.

"Eleanor asked me to look after her unicorn for her and I've forking lost it," he says instead, pouting forlornly. "Can you come and help me find it?"

"That doesn't explain why you couldn't use the door instead of the window."

He shrugs as well as he is able to while clinging to a wall two storeys off the ground. "This seemed less intrusive."

"It isn't," she laughs. "Can you get back down or do you need me to haul you in?"

"Er, hauling, probably," he admits, and she grabs him by the wrists to yank him inside. Her bedroom is relatively plain and a little untidy, but it smells like mysterious girl things like perfume and body lotion. This entire situation is making his head spin a little (although that might be the altitude).

He perches uncomfortably at the foot of her bed while she hunts around for a matching pair of shoes. "Where did you lose it, and what direction did it go?" she asks as she gropes blindly underneath the bed.

"Next to the fountain in the town square. I only turned away for a second! I think it forked off towards the lake."

They make their way, via the front door, down towards the water, whispering and walking quietly so as not to disturb the neighbourhood.

"Look," she says, grabbing his arm on spotting a glimmer of silver in the moonlight over the fields. "I think that's it."

They approach carefully, sensibly wary of startling the giant pointy horse. The unicorn seems to pay them no heed, flipping its mane in mild annoyance before pooping out a small, wet rainbow.

"Hey, there," she says in the most soothing voice she can muster, gingerly extending an arm towards the creature. When her hand touches the unicorn's flank, it gives out an almighty whinny and wheels around to look her dead in the eyes, huffing aggressively.

"Fork fork fork fork fork," she mutters under her breath as she backs away rapidly from the beast. "I don't think it likes me."

Quick as a flash, the priest grabs the unicorn's reins and gives them a yank to turn its attention back to him. "Come on," he says sternly. "It's time for you to go home."

The animal rears up and lets out a noise of extreme displeasure, but the priest stands firm and keeps his hold on the reins, using his disappointed-Sunday-school-teacher scowl. Little by little, the unicorn stops bucking and grunting, and allows itself to be led back towards the town square.

"Thanks," she says, walking a little ahead to keep a wary distance away from the creature. "I thought I was about to become unicorn food."

"I don't think they actually eat people." The unicorn let out another aggressive grunt. "Although I'm not entirely sure on that."

"Why does Eleanor even have a feral unicorn?"

"She didn't tell me! She just handed me the forking reins and told me to look after it and forked off!"

"You wrangled it remarkably well."

"I'm surprised I didn't run away, to be honest. I'm not usually good at dealing with things."

She gives him a smile over her shoulder. "You’re braver than you believe, and stronger and smarter than you think," she tells him.

He stops short, making the unicorn give a huff of annoyance. "Is that Winnie the Pooh?" he gasps. "Did you just quote Winnie the Pooh at me?"

"I-"

She can't finish the sentence before he's cupping her cheek and capturing her lips in a fierce kiss. He pours himself into her, the pent-up longing and affection from the last few weeks crashing over them like a wave, each touch of his hands against her skin igniting a fire in his senses. He cards his fingers through her dark curls as she gasps against his mouth, her soft body pressed against his.

The sound of galloping hooves brings them out of their private moment, and they surface to the sight of the unicorn tearing away down the road.

"Oh, fork," they say in unison.

[antonixfawley]

About: Antoni Fawley

“ I’ll keep all my plans close to my chest . . . ”

Introduction

name: Antoni Fabian Fawley also known as: Toni age: 23 birthday:  January 30 astrological sign:  Aquarius species:  Human gender:  Male pronouns:  He/Him orientation: Queer

Past/Bio

Early life: Antonio was raised by two loving parents, Peter and Lena Fawley. His father’s family came from a long line of pureblood, members of the sacred twenty-eight in fact. Though his family did keep their bloodline pure, they only did so out of tradition, and not because they really put much stock into blood purity. The Fawley’s were a long line of Hufflepuffs, with nearly every member being sorted into the badger house, aside from those who married into the family, such as Antoni’s mother. So of course he was raised on values of loyalty and hard work, kindness and gratitude, all the makings of another fine Hufflepuff student. Antoni never really clicked with those things, though. He wasn’t as interested in family activities as he was in reading alone in his room, he found making in depth maps of the land surrounding his family home much more engaging than playing silly games or doing chores on those lands. He had difficultly finding time alone growing up, as his father insisted he stay out and spend time with his siblings as well as aunts, uncles and cousins who were always at the estate for one reason or another. From fancy dinner parties to family game night to simply having tea, the Fawley’s adore entertaining guests. Antoni’s mother understood though, the polish witch being a bit introverted herself, she knew her oldest son was a bit more like her than his fathers side of the family. She would let Antoni leave dinner a bit early some days, or skip out on tea to have some alone time. She let him stay up later so he could read a few more pages of whatever book he was on at the time, when his siblings had to go to bed early. Growing up in a household with such high expectations for their children to be a certain way, Antoni became quite calculated in his behavior. He chose when to sneak away and when to be present with family, quickly learning when the right time to speak was, and when he should hold his tongue. He kept most of his thoughts to himself, already being so distant from his siblings and family, he didn’t want to further alienate himself by making any wrong moves. Hogwarts: When Antoni went off to Hogwarts, his whole family was ecstatic to see the eldest son find a place in the line of Hufflepuff legacies, but when the sorting hat touched his head, it had no hesitation before shouting out “Ravenclaw!” to the hall. Most children would be mortified of not being placed in their family’s house, but all of a sudden he saw a sea of blue rise up and welcome him in, a sea of people just like him. He felt like all his years of running off to find a quiet spot, staying up late in secret to read or write were validated now, he wasn’t the odd one out anymore. Antoni’s family, of course, were supportive anyways. After all, what kind of Hufflepuff wouldn’t support their family? There was always teasing though, and his siblings and countless Hufflepuff cousins never let him forget that he was different, he was odd, but he didn’t mind what they said. He knew who he was and he didn’t care what anyone else thought. Toni’s years at Hogwarts gave him time to grow and branch out, finding interest in astronomy, arithmatic, potions, and history the most, though he excelled in all his courses. He continued his hobbie of map making, working tirelessly to document every part of the castle that he could, drawing extensive separate maps of each floor and the grounds. He found many friends in ravenclaw, as well as some outside his house, though he always preferred to be alone when given the chance. He didn’t really find much interest in dating for the first few years of school, but around fifth year, his friends around him began to couple up he knew he needed to blend in with the behavior and found himself beginning to flirt and be more outgoing with other students. His family credits these years as when he started to blossom, as he began to stop secluding himself and interacted much more with others. He enjoyed these little flirtations he found, and some even blossomed into relationships, though they never lasted long. He wasn’t very focused on actually finding love or romance, he was just having fun with what he found to be a challenge. He wanted to see how easily he could get someone to trust him and fall for him, often playing mind games with the people he dated. Antoni grew into an extremely intelligent, calculating, and focused individual, crafting a reputation for himself as a charming, friendly young man with a bit of a heartbreaker streak. Current life: After leaving Hogwarts, Antoni ventures into various places of employment, testing out office jobs, interning at various places, including the Daily Prophet for a spell, though it didn’t last long. None really ever did since he was easily bored and would just quit, getting a new job whenever he wanted. Due to the high marks he reached on both his OWL and NEWT exams, pretty much any job was available to him. Then, Antoni had found an interest in Ministry work, and law had always been eye catching to him as well. Currently, he has been working as an intern for the Auror department at the ministry of magic. He found a place with the Death Eaters not long after graduation, his intellect and moral ambiguity being good qualities for him to apply to the group. He had never grown up being taught about blood purity, but he of course learned of it in school and was quickly swayed. After all, he was a Fawley, a member of the Sacred Twenty-eight. In his mind, he deserved a spot at that table, and he was going to get what he was owed.

About

personality: charming, calculated, friendly, intelligent, and self-serving label:  The Facade positive traits:  clever, passionate, level-headed negative traits: self-serving, two-faced, easily bored alignment: True Neutral goals/desires:  find something that interest him and holds his interest, gain power in society fears:  being bored, not finding anything engaging that can intellectually challenge him hobbies:  map making, reading, writing, calligraphy. habits: zoning out, over explaining things, lying

Appearance

Face claim:  Thomas Doherty height: 6ft eye color: Blue hair description: * color: Dark Brown * highlights: none * length: medium * worn: shaved on the sides, long on top, usually messy and tousled or styled up scars:  none piercings:  none tattoos: drawing of the golden ratio with a shell and an outline of Poland on his right forearm. A quill on the back of his neck, if you look closely the ink is actually dark blue, not black. clothing style: Clean, often a t shirts and jeans with a flamboyant statement jacket. For work he wears a suit, often dark blue. usual expression: Neutral, basically has RBF distinguishing characteristics: speaks polish sometimes. health physical ailments:  none neurological conditions: insomnia allergies:  none sleeping habits:  bad he doesn’t sleep enough eating habits:  also bad he isn’t starving tho exercise habits: decent he likes to keep in shape emotional stability: he isnt very emotional and doesn’t get worked up by much sociability: he’s quite sociable only because he forces himself to be to make himself look good, he would rather not be social. body temperature: cold addictions:  coffee/tea/energy drinks(caffeine) drug use: social alcohol use: moderate-high

Relationships

father:  Peter Fawley, distant, he doesn’t really understand his son but still has a civil and kind relationship. mother:  Lena Fawley, positive, his mother is supportive of him and they are close siblings:  distant, less positive, since his siblings don’t like how much he distances himself from them. relatives: Most- neutral, distant, he doesn’t associate with most of his relatives. Jasper Travers (cousin), positive, friendly. family line of work:  Ministry work, quidditch players, politicians.   best friends:  open!!! cohorts:  Scorpius Malfoy, Marcelina Bloem, Daisy Dursley, Doe Creevy, Dominique Weasley, Dylan Parkinson idk there’s a lot significant other: none atm gimme crush: open exes: open!! Pls hmu for this connection I’m sure he has loads followers: plots frenemies: plots enemies: gimme plots

Education

school:  Hogwarts house:  Ravenclaw best core class:  Astronomy, potions, charms, defense against the dark arts worst core class:  Care of Magical Creatures quidditch:  no extra-curricular: astronomy club idk probably others I can’t think rn

Magic

wand: * length: 10 3/4 inch * flexibility: unyielding flexibility * wood: Elder * core: Unicorn Hair pets:  none boggart:  boredom animagus/patronus:  Wild Rabbit amortentia: old books, grass, firewood

Favorites

theme song:  wait for it- Hamilton food: toast drink:  coffee/tea color:  navy blue animal:  mouse flower:  lavender season: fall

[lunarhayn]

(Not So) Secret Curls

Alrighty, so I found a post a while ago by @apologieslogan about Logan with long and, well, I just had to write it. I hope you don't mind as I wrote it as romantic CALM cause that's just how I saw it when reading the post.

Basically I had an idea for how I wanted to start and end it...but no idea what do in between that. So it's a little badly done, but I'm really proud of how it turned out. (Also, not good a titles)

Also gonna tag @virgil-has-a-houseplant cause they asked to be and @teacupfulofstarshine cause I think she'll like this.

So yeah, without further adieu, here it is!

WARNINGS: There is a slight food mention...but other than that it's just mostly fluff.

It was a known fact the each of the sides held a common characteristic with their opposite brain side. Both Roman and Virgil held wildly different skin tones from their host (Romans being a much tanner version of Thomas and Virgil being paler) and the fact that they could both draw very well. But while they kept Thomas's straight hair, both Logan and Patton took on a much curlier form of it along with their need for glasses. And much like how the other two had their opposite skin tones, these two like to keep their hair at very different lengths. Patton kept his short and, while everyone thought it would be Roman, Logan kept his longer.

(Although Roman did try long hair once, he claimed it was too much of a hassle to constantly tie it back for battles and would keep falling in his face)

The others rarely - if ever - saw Logan with his hair down. The logical side typically kept it in a low ponytail or a loose bun. And because of this, none of the others knew just how long his hair had become.

Virgil had been the first to notice. He had been on one of his many 1 a.m. nightly snack runs when he had seen the logical sides door cracked open, spilling soft light into the hall. It being a little after 1, virgil is slightly confused as to why his boyfriend - who usually very good about going to bed before midnight - was still up. While his late night planning and working wasn't unheard of, it was still pretty uncommon. And Virgil was curious to see what he was up to. He crept silently to the door and peeked around -

Only to find his boyfriend curled up in a plushy arm chair, fast asleep. An open book had slid onto his lap and his glasses had been pushed up as he leaned into the chair. Virgil gave out a quiet chuckle and went over to the sleeping side, picking up his book and setting it onto his desk before moving back. Only to freeze for a moment.

Logans hair was down. Glasses pushed up to keep the hair out of his eyes while soft curls framed the rest of his face. It had also gotten much longer than Virgil remembered, hanging down a little past his collarbones.

Without thinking, Virgil quickly whipped out his phone to snap a few pictures of the adorable sight before him before pocketing the phone and leaning over to pick Logan up. He carries the side to his bed with ease and giggles as he tries to pry the logical sides finger from his shirt. While he would never admit it, Logan was as big a cuddler as Patton.

After a few minutes, Virgil manages to free his shirt from Logans tight grasp and replaces it with the galaxy themed unicorn plushie Patton had gotten him for Christmas. He places a small kiss to the sleeping sides forehead and shuts off the light, smiling as the glow in the dark constellations appear. Virgil whispers a soft goodnight to his love and continues on his original mission. He is soon back in his bed, snacking on some chips, as he pulls out a small journal and begins to write about his new discovery, a small smile gracing his face.

Patton finds out next a few weeks later. He's come downstairs sometime during the night in order to get some more popcorn and drinks for his Office marathon, only to be stopped as he realizes the kitchen light is already on. He continues on his way, fully prepared to greet Virgil and freezes in his tracks for the second time that night.

Virgils hair was not that curly or that long.

Only one side had hair that long. Patton stared at Logans back as he made something on the counter (Patton would bet his left leg that it probably involved Crofters too). He runs his eyes over the long locks, the unruly curls that stuck out. Swiftly turning around, Patton makes his way back to his room, telling himself he didn't want to startle their boyfriend. Even though all Patton wanted to do was run his fingers through those soft locks now.

Roman, much to the royals dismay, finds out last.

It's just after ten on a Tuesday morning when he literally runs into the other side as he steps out of the bathroom. He goes to apologize and takes one look at his smart boyfriend before running off. Straight to Pattons room where he knows his two other boyfriends will be. Meanwhile, Logan has no idea what the hell just happened. One moment Roman and the next he's gone, damp locks slapping his cheeks as he turns his head to figure out where his creative boyfriend went.

...

"Have either of you two seen just how long and beautiful our nerds hair is?!" Roman exclaimed, causing the two cuddling sides to stare up at him. They shared a look before slowly nodding at Roman. "And neither of you thought to tell me?! My gods, the betrayal!"

Virgil rolled his eyes at their dramatic boyfriend while Patton let out a laugh,"Sorry kiddo. We thought that you knew too. Both Virgil and I found out just last month."

Roman huffed and crossed his arms, muttering something under his breath. It took Virgil a moment to figure out what he had said before the anxious side let out a rare laugh, "Aw, come on! You seriously can't be that jealous of his hair?!"

"Me? Jealous of Logans hair? Heavens no! I simply am upset that Specs decided to keep those beautiful locks away from us for so long. Tis a crime to hide such beauty!"

With another eye roll, Virgil looked at Roman, "He hasn't exactly been hiding it, Princey. He just doesn't wear it down often."

"Oh hush, Winnie the Blue! I can't help it if you don't know how to appreciate wonderfully, gorgeous hair." Roman exclaimed, crawling onto the bed and curling  up on the other side of Patton, "Now, Padre..."

And Virgil just curled up tighter against the dad side, rolling his eyes yet again as his boyfriends gushed over their Nerds hair. But he couldn't stop a small smile from appearing on his face.

...

Logan was confused. It had been quite a while since he had seen any of his boyfriends. Now, for Roman and Virgil that wasn't unexpected as Roman went off on quests a lot and Virgil enjoyed staying in the quiet of his room or someone elses. But Patton was usually out and about more often than not. Whether is was doing house work, cooking, or just hanging put in the living room watching T.V. and cuddling with someone.

But he hadn't seen anyone since running into Roman earlier that day.

So, with a sigh, Logan set his book down on the couch and went off in search of his boys.  He had already determined that none were downstairs, as he had been there most of the day and hadn't seen anyone. Logan made his way up the stairs and turned to Romans room first, knocking on the elaborate white door. After waiting a few moments a receiving no response, Logan pulled open the door slightly and peeked in. The room was dark with no sign of life.

With another quick glance around the room, Logan pulled the door shut and moved on to Pattons room. He was about to knock when he heard the familiar voices drift through, too muffled to make out anything. Ah, so this is where they've been all day, Logan thought, pushing the door to the morals sides room open.

Only to be met with silence.

All the talking stopped as he entered the room. Patton looked...guilty? And Romans face was slowly turning red. Virgil, on the other hand, was looking between Logan and their other boyfriends, an amused look on his face. Logan cocked his head, "I apologize, am I interrupting something I wasn't supposed to be aware of? I'm not quite sure what it could be - as there are no events coming up anytime soon - but I can leave if need be."

And Virgil lost it.

The other three stared at the anxious side in shock. It was extremely rare to here him laugh like this, so carefree like and loud. He was curled into himself, shaking slightly as his face slowly turned red, "You nerd," he gasped, calming down enough to speak, "you absolute dork." And Logan just stared at him, a mixture of shock and confusion on his face.

"We weren't planning or anything. Princey and Padre have just been...well...obsessing over your hair." Romans face was slowly becoming the color of his sash and Patton gave a small, shy smile, "Well, let me rephrase that: Roman, over here, has been obsessing over your 'magnificent locks' and Pattons just agreeing and encouraging." Virgil finished, a sly smirk on his face.

"My...hair?"

"Well, it's just you have the longest out of all of us and it's honestly so gorgeous. And we all just recently found out just how long it's become, but you wear it up so often and I was just curious as to why? Plus, we weren't obsessing," Roman shot Virgil a glare," we were merely discussing just how, well, magnificent it had gotten and all the styles the could be done with it."

"So, obsessing?"

"Quiet, pheasant!"

Logan stared at the three for a moment, "Well, it is at a decent length to do more with it, I suppose. And it's fairly manageable, which is why I haven't cut it." He turned to Roman, "If you wished to try out some styles, I wouldn't be opposed to it."

None of them had ever seen their dramatic boyfriend beam as brightly as he did in the moment.

"Oh, oh, oh!"

"Yes Patton?"

"Do you think you could wear it down a little more often too? It would look sooo good on you."

"Of course."

In all honesty, Logan would do anything to make his lovers as happy as they were at that moment. Especially for that small smile Patton gave. His extremely rare of o pure joy and content.

...

The next time Thomas summoned them, Logans hair was a bit different. He had let Roman pull the top later into a small bun that sat on the back of his head while the rest swung freely about his shoulders.

While Logan didn't say anything about the change, Thomas didn't miss the way he moved his head more, letting the loose curls whip about. And he he didn't miss the look of pride and satisfaction Roman had throughout their entire conversation.

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

7. Bass is heavy a.k.a. useful finger techniques, Dee Dee Ramone’s yelling and helpful octopuses

„Damn, I forgot Sly and Ethel in the van!” she groans and slaps on her forehead.

“No problem, I bring them with the next round.” Scully offers and disappears in the hallway that leads to the backdoor. I have no idea who Sly and Ethel can be but I don’t want to know it either… Now that she’s been left alone she tries to push the carriage trolley with the amps to its place on the stage. With little success. But her fight with the gear twice as heavy as her reminds me of a scene.

“Old woman!” I call her.

“Man!” she corrects me still pressing against the load at full strength. Okay, she passed the test again but that’s not a big deal, Monty Python’s Holy Grail basically became a mainstream movie by now, anybody could quote a few scenes from it. Okay, not everyone, none of my former girlfriends was familiar with absurd humor and neither is Amber. I got her to watch it with me but I gave up the mission and turned off the video recorder when she asked for the third time how much time was left of it. It’s just not for her.

“Okay, Dennis, where’s my cow?” I inquire while I’m helping her win the battle; otherwise hours later, the amps would still stand in the middle of the stage and our crowd would enjoy her hopeless struggle instead of the show.

“Are you deaf? Or just concentration problems?” she asks harshly, avoiding my glance and trying to ignore my intervention but her rush moves uncover the surprise she might feel about it.

“Hey, it’s not easy to talk with you, do you know? I asked you about something, I even emphasized my lack of information using a different tone, in grammar text books you can find the encyclopedic explanation in chapter “Question”.” I draw a question mark with my index finger in the air. “The next communication panel is the so-called “answer” in which you satisfy my need for details…” I gesture the quotation marks too.

“I won’t satisfy you in any way, excuse me…” she cuts me off and even tosses me away a bit as she steps dynamically to the monitor board to plug the cables into it.

“I’m just trying to ask where’s my…” I don’t need to finish the sentence since Scully arrives back with Dave’s stage prop, holding my cow under his arm.

“And I was trying to refer to the fact that we take care of Ethel and Sly.” she nods at the two mascots.

“Ethel?” I blurt out frowning. This chick isn’t sane, she was serious about searching for a name for it… “Since when has she been called Ethel?”

“Actually her name has always been Ethel, you’ve just never asked her about it.” she fixes her glasses with a wiseacre face. “She was quite unhappy, did you know that? I caught her searching for numbers of slaughterhouses in the phonebook as she wanted to volunteer to be a steak ingredient, no wonder knowing you. But when I told her we were traveling to Texas soon she immediately changed her mind. Now she wants to be the spokesperson of the anti-rodeo movement. A little care makes wonders.”

Her fantasy is quite intense, I have to admit.

“So you’re obsessed with stuffed animals?” I ask leaning against my Marshall and watch her wiring the stage with quick moves.

“…asks the guy who keeps one on his amplifier…” she mumbles darting at me for a second and raising one eyebrow. “What are you doing here, anyway? Are you supervising me or what? As far as I know I’m an unbearable person who makes the others admire her and uses her family ties…”

Nice attempt but not enough to distract me.

“…and who told, ahem, yelled at me that I should get to know her better, that’s what I’m trying to do right now.” I continue the sentence. “So tell me, Judith, how many stuffed animals do you have exactly? I bet there are a few ones in your bedroom… my first estimation would be somewhere between five and ten.”

“Oh yeah, my bedroom. Damn, you’ve got me… First of all there’s that huge teddy sitting on my bed, how did you figure it out? Then there’s the bunny in the armchair, the cute seal on my desk and my stuffed pony and unicorn collection, I gave up counting them a few years ago. And I have to mention that everything in the room is very pink and very fluffy. Do I meet the profile you created about me?” she bats her eyelashes.

Clever, but not clever enough to drive me to the wall.

“Actually, when I asked you about stuffed animals I was talking about stuffed animals. Like, dead animals which are stuffed. I mean, I could totally imagine a few stuffed bats, snakes and rats hanged on your shelves full of mysterious ingredients for occult purposes. Candles arranged on the points of a huge pentagram, right next to the coffin-shaped bed…”

“You left out the voodoo dolls. I have a bunch of them, the latest one I prepared wears denim pants and a Luv Co shirt tucked into them…” she approaches threatening me with a jack plug and for one second I think she’s about to stick it into my eyeball but in the last moment she changes direction and plugs it into the matching slot of the amp. I acknowledge, she didn’t need much time to know her way around our gear… But come on, even a chimpanzee can be trained how to put different solids into the right holes, she’s on the level of an average lab monkey. “But how come I turned from a nun into a witch in one single day? You’re pretty much inconsistent at insulting, Gossard…”

That makes sense. I open my mouth to cite the witch hunt scene from the mentioned movie but Scully intervenes in our conversation.

“Guys, if you go on like this I’ll claim payrise from Eric…”

“For what? How do you mean it?” she turns in his direction with hands on hips.

“Conflict management bonus.” he shrugs casually. “Seriously, could you just stop for a moment? For just a few seconds, I feel like I was at a fucking dogfight.”

“It was him who started it!” she exclaims outraged pointing at me.

“Don’t look at me, I don’t know what she’s talking about.” I play dumb raising my hands in front of me.

“Jesus, you’re hopeless. Forget the stopping part, I just want the money.” Scully shakes his head resigned.

“Money? What money? I don’t know what’s going on here but I want money too.” Smitty enters in the company off Dave, Karrie and Jeff.

“When did everybody get so greedy? Actually, it is you who should pay me for my show, I’m the only one who keeps you entertained in this boring touring life.” I smirk as I begin to tune my orange Les Paul.

“As for me, I prefer boredom by all means.“ she rolls her eyes and begins to flipping through her notebook.

“Hey, Judy, we have a few spare hour after the soundcheck and I thought… I thought we could begin your bass guitar lessons.” Jeff scratches his nape holding his other hand deep in his pocket. Awkward loverboy alert… I pull a few steps away because I’m not interested in this embarrassing lovey-dovey but I also try to stay within earshot. Not that I give a shit about it, it’s just better to keep up with the sequels.

“Sure!” she smiles. “I mean, Karrie, do you have any plans for the rest of the afternoon? If you don’t, we could…”

“Beth wants to do some shopping, I forgot to mention it… so I’m going with her. I wanted to ask you too but I have a mind like a sieve…” Karrie answers suspiciously quickly.

“Oookay, then why not?”

“Your place or mine?” Jeff asks not noticing how ambiguous he sounds.

“Jesus, Jeff, you don’t waste your time, straight to the point…” I throw in, which makes the others stop staring them and suddenly everybody pretends to be busy with their work to hide their grins and snorts.

“There’s that small park near the hotel, what if we go there?” the target person of the courtship tries to ignore my remark but can’t disguise the tremble in her voice.

Clever, again. She picks a neutral place. Cautious enough not to show her closest surrounding and smart enough not to get in awkward situations. I mean, boys’ rooms tend to be quite messy, the mixed smell of sweat and deodorant for men, not to mention the stinky sneakers and boxers left on the bed…

“Great. I’ve already mapped out which things I want to show you first.” Jeff goes on enthusiastically and more awkwardly if it’s possible at all. I see Dave’s shoulders shaking as he kneels behind his bass drum to fake-fix its pedal.

“Let’s begin with the basics, I only learnt the most common chords to be able to play some accompaniment to campfire songs and nursery rhymes.” she insists on keeping the conversation under control but Jeff doesn’t seem to cooperate.

“I can teach you a few useful finger techniques.” he exercises the fingers of his bear paws with sincere innocence in his eyes but at this point everybody cracks up; even his future music student giggles bashfully.

“What’s with everyone?” he looks around confused. “What’s so funny?”

“You should… have… heard yourself...” Scully hiccups as he and Smitty collapse of uncontrollable laughter onto each other’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah. That conversation was… juicy.” Dave adds winking and doing unmistakable moves with his hips and arms.

“Oh fff…” Jeff buries his face into his palms replaying the scene in his head. Dave steps to him to pat his shoulders a few times.

“You know what, Ames? You shouldn’t talk so much about what you’re going to do. Just… do it.”

***

“So what’s your plan with that skateboard?” Judy asks while we’re walking in the park searching for a remote place. She hasn’t come up with that awkward conversation yet and I can’t be grateful enough to her for that. I don’t know what happened to me, usually I’m not that clueless type… I was probably way too much focused on the possible outcome of this day. If can I stick to my plan, I’m going to ask her out in like one hour and I have absolutely no idea what she might answer and that drives me crazy. Cool down, Ament, don’t act like a junior high school student before his first prom…

“Uhm… I know it sounds surprising but I thought I could skateboard here…” Aaaand in the category of meaningless answers, the Oscar goes to… drumbeat… Jeffrey Allen Ament, Big Sandy, Montana!!! “Plus, I thought if being a qualified musician, you found the class boring, we could spice it up with some physical challenges… like… you should play bass lines while rolling and balancing on this skateboard. And if it was still a piece of cake for you we could search for a skate park with half pipes and you could even do somersaults and flips.”

“I don’t know… I’m not an athletic type… I’ve only tried to ride a scooter once in my life. Mary Sue Kellerman, my classmate lent me hers on the playground when we were second graders. She explained and showed me how to do it but somehow I didn’t feel the technique, I stepped on it, drove it a few times and enjoyed the speed so much that I forgot to drive it again.” she giggles.

“And… what happened?”

“Seeing I was slowing down she yelled after me like ”Drive, drive!” but I felt paralyzed, I pulled up gradually and ended up tumbling from a standing position…”

“Poor you! But my first skateboarding attempts weren’t glorious either and I still collect a few injuries when I decide to learn a new trick. But I fell in love with it at first… try, and I never want to give it up.”

“You could be a cool, skateboarding grandpa who shocks the youth!”

We find a calm, trellis-like corner and settle down still discussing the same topic. Unlike most girls I know, she doesn’t mind it at all and when I tell her how my father convinced me to build my own skateboard instead of buying that expensive Stacy Peralta board, she turns out to know him. I can’t believe my ears when she mentions Tony Alva too, I mean, who’s this girl?

“And how did you pick up how to play the guitar?” she nods towards the bass on my lap.

“Believe or not I took a few lessons… But they were boring, at least for me, no chords, no songs, only scales…”

“Scales are important!” she corrects me. I always forget that she’s pretty conscious as for music which isn’t typical at all in the band.

“What can I say… I grew up listening to my uncle’s records and as I could spare some money I spent all of it on ordering music magazines and vinyls. And when I started playing bass I figured out how to use my stereo vinyl player to learn Dee Dee Ramone’s parts.”

“I love them!” she exclaims.

“Really? I mean, you know a lot about music and punk songs aren’t very sophisticated concerning the musical part…”

“But that’s the best in punk. Even if you’re not very talented technically you still can play a bunch of songs… or if you can’t, you can still reproduce Dee Dee Ramone’s totally out-of-rhythm “one-two-three-four” yelling. And most punk songs operate with the classic scale degrees. Ramones also use the holy trinity of tonic, subdominant and dominant like the greatest composers before them and…” she jabbers enthusiastically without breathing.

“Waitwaitwait, stop! I don’t have the faintest clue what you’re talking about, if you want to analyze my favorite songs to me you have to go back to Genesis to make it understandable for this Montanan jerk!” I cut her off chuckling.

“Do you mean the Old Testament or the band?” she grins. “Anyway, it’s very simple, look.”

She grabs the instrument out of my lap, disposes it onto hers and strums all strings one after another.

“Normal basses are tuned like double basses, right?“ To my nodding she names them. “E, A, D, G. So, let’s take Blitzkrieg Bop which is written in A major.” She plays the bass line of the mentioned song flawlessly and explains its chord progression in the meantime. I listen to her with dropped jaw and when she falls silent for a second, I take my bass quickly back.

“Okay, the lesson is over, excuse me but I have to go and bury myself alive.” I remark trying to keep a straight face.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t want to sound like a nerd or show off with my theoretical knowledge, I…”

“You don’t have to apologize for amazing me! But now it’s my turn to amaze you… Do you like graffiti?”

“I don’t know… I’m ambivalent… there are a few ones which look good and are also meaningful but if someone destroys a clear wall with stupid scrawls…” she frowns.

Oh. That’s not a good sign… Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…

“I prefer the creative ones too, such as my friend from the art school. He studied photography and spent his last years with shooting the best graffiti he’s seen all across the country and Canada and his exhibition opens on Thursday in Boston. And since we have a day off right that day, right there, I thought you could join.” I utter fast with one big breath. She stares me silently for a few seconds which seem like an eternity.

“ ’Course. Cool.” she answers briefly as if she was declaring something evident. I don’t have too much time to process the positive reception since she begins to roll my skateboard back and forth with her foot.

“Your introduction made me curious, I want to try this diabolical device.”

“Haha, okay, but only if I can walk next to you, you may need a handhold.”

She steps onto the board and she rolls cautiously on the path where we got here in a few minutes. She’s too busy with balancing to notice the rest of the band approaching from the gate.

“Hey Jeff, a suspicious woman is trying to steal your baby!” Eddie shouts.

“Look, guys I’m skateboaaaaaa…” she has to circle with her arms a few times and grab my shoulder to prevent herself from tumbling.

“Carefully, Judy. You should try surfing, it improves sense of balance and falling in water is safer than concrete.” Ed recommends.

“Say yes, if you don’t want to be fired…” Mike whisper-shouts hiding his face with one hand from Eddie preventing him from hearing it, which is obviously totally unnecessary.

“I’m not a big swimmer, so…” she shrugs apologetically.

“Anyway, did Jeff force you to try it? You can answer by signaling with your eyelids…” Mike jokes on.

“No, she just turned out to be a way better bass player than me. So I’ll quit the band and she’s begun to practice before she has to take over all of my tasks.”

“Ah, I see. Judy, I warn you, you’ll have to slam-dance with me. You should gain some weight, I don’t want to kill you…”

“Ed’s right. I’m going to slap you in the face with the guitar neck a few times… I mean literally… but no offense, you can hit back anytime you want or you can land on my foot after jumps from the monitor box like Jeff does…”

Judy wrinkles her nose as she tries to follow the relay of jokes. Stone – who has stayed silent until now – flashes an evil grin and clears his throat. The well-known first signs of his moronic verbal diarrhea.

“Guys, you forgot to prepare her for the most important circumstances. But that’s why I am the band leader… Judith, you have to do some shopping. The polyester basketball shirts are essential parts of our stage look, we can’t allow ourselves losing them just because Jeff quits. And the hats… that’s a more difficult question, they look quite… unique… so I don’t think you have any other choice than borrow them. Do you have sensitive scalp? Because… nevermind, I can lend you a few bandanas to make it more hygienic. Oh, and at certain points of the shows you’ll have to strip. Jeff often drops his shirt and plays on half-naked as you could already see it, you can’t break this tradition. But you also have to keep the hat on your head, don’t ask me why, that’s the rule.”

I sway my guitar case pretending I want to hit him and in the meantime I bite my lower lip to repress my grin. Stone is an idiot but sometimes he has good ideas… I mean obviously I can relate to that plot if I can be in the crowd… Jesus, when did I become such a sexist? I’ve just asked the poor girl out and… I’d better take a cold shower.

***

“And can we see you on TV on Saturday?” I ask rolling the film with my finger back and forth on the table. When Judy called me I was selecting pictures I want to show to Krisha as reference works and I found a few ones which I have to have developed.

“Nah, I don’t think so. We’re going to be with the guys in the studio but we’re not going to be filmed with the cameras. I think Karrie and Brett will have to work with the sound staff in the control room and I… I don’t know yet, if they let me in too I’ll just watch them like a useless idiot… which I am…”

“Control room? Wow, that sounds like a sci-fi, I can totally imagine the Star Trek characters there…” I deliberately ignore her low self-esteem-powered remark. “I’ve also seen in the previews that Sharon Stone would host the show, that’s an interesting combination…”

“Yep, Eric mentioned the creators wanted a funny scene or spot with her and the band but I don’t know if they can find a common ground. They only want to play music and aren’t interested in show business at all.”

“Maybe they want to gag with their physical appearance. Like, Sharon is tall and her legs are unrealistically long whereas Eddie is short so the screenwriters may figure out a joke about him being able to walk between her legs without bowing his head.” I guess as I start rummaging the photo heaps in front of me.

“Haha, you’re evil! You have no right to joke about Ed’s height, you’re a dwarf just like me…”

“But dwarf jokes are the best ones, you have to admit it. And… what are your plans until Saturday? Have you used the tape recorder yet?”

“Noooo…”

“You’re unbelievable, I’ve said you should…”

“…borrow a guitar, I know. Uhm, yesterday Jeff gave me a bass lesson, does that count?”

“Mmmmh, Jeff Ament?” I ask meaningfully. Since Judy joined the staff I played with the idea of them getting together, he seems to match her.

“No, Jeff Goldblum… of course Jeff Ament, who else? And he also let me ride his skateboard.”

“He let you ride his skateboard? That’s how you call it? It’s that a new slang or…” I cackle.

“Shut up, I meant it literally. No slang, no obscene details.” she cuts me off severely. So typical, usually she isn’t against sex related jokes but when actual guys around her come into play, she suddenly turns into a prude spinster.

“Okay, okay, I was just kidding. I’m just surprised, you haven’t mentioned yet you two spend time alone.” Actually I’m happy for these news, not only because I think they’d click but also because in the first ten minutes of our conversation she was cursing Stone Gossard. And even if only the half of what she claimed is true, I can’t blame her; the dude must be quite obnoxious. But still, she barely mentions anyone else from the band and I’m afraid if she goes on like this, these negative feelings will spoil her tour. “And how went the skateboarding? Did you collect a few bruises?”

“Haha, not yet. I didn’t try any tricks and I was probably quite clumsy but he kept encouraging me, he’s a nice guy. And ah, as for plans, he asked me whether I want to go to the photo exhibition of his friend in Boston. The guy invited them and Jeff asked me to join too.”

“That sounds great! And what kind of photos?”

“Photos of interesting graffiti. Jeff used to draw graffiti as well, did you know that? He told me a lot about himself but not in that annoying way when one is talking and talking and isn’t interested in the listener at all… this and the fact Eric defended me and they even gave me a cake… and that Jeff invited me with the bunch… make me feel they really accepted me as a member of the crew… and… oh, shit, I have to go, we have to set off for the show! Kisses for Mom and Granny!”

“Bye, take care of…” It’s needless to finish the sentence since she hung up in the meantime.

A few minutes later, I can hear the key turning in the lock and Mom literally falls in the apartment with her heavy shopping bags.

“You should have knocked, I would have helped you if you had asked me…” I shake my head and collect the apples and small cans which rolled everywhere on the ground.

“If I can give injection to Mrs. Mueller while she’s yelling at me calling me Gestapo’s slut, I can do everything…”

“Your foundation should employ octopuses, they are strong, can use their legs independently and are good listeners. And some of your clients wouldn’t even wonder if one crawled into their home…”

“That’s sure. I ask the opinion of my boss about it.” she settles to the table staring exhausted in front of herself.

“Anyway, you’ve just missed Judy’s call.”

“Damn… I wanted to hear her voice, I literally tossed Mrs. Muller into her bed to finish earlier…”

“Unfortunately you can’t see her either… I asked her about Saturday Night Live and we won’t see her in the show… But we still could watch it together, I would show you the guys and tell everything I’ve heard about them from her. We could make some popcorn and…”

“Oh, sweetie, haven’t I mentioned yet? I… I have to work…” she suddenly gets embarrassed.

“What? In the evening? On Saturday? By the time the show begins your clients are already sleeping the sleep of the just.” I complain.

“I know, but… there’s a former colleague from the hospital who works now in a nursing home. A few nurses quitted and I thought we could use the extra money so she recommended me to her boss as an occasional substitute nurse. And I begin on Saturday.”

Great. Since when have we concealed things like this from each other? I thought we could finally have a mother-daughter evening when she didn’t talk only about the insufferable old terrorists and didn’t pass out of exhaust right after dinner… she should finally relax and I need her company too, since Judy left I’ve felt like a lonely prisoner. And that’s more important than money, we don’t starve and if I got a few jobs I could contribute to our budget too, I wouldn’t be the cripple anymore who costs them a lot.

“And why didn’t you tell me that? Is it a secret or what?”

“Effie, honey, stop pouting, please. You can record it to me and we can watch it on Sunday. And I won’t even say a word if you stop it at every single shot, I’m going to listen to every single detail about these jam boys, I promise.”

“Mmmkay…” I mutter. I don’t like this patronizing voice, I’m not a toddler, I just want her to be honest with me.

“And what are you doing? Selecting pictures?”

“Yes… nothing particular…”

If she doesn’t tell me everything, why should I, right?

[demolitonlcvers]

I found this note on my phone called “My Emo Dreams” and I can’t stop laughing

My Emo Dreams

What is my brain

Ok so I just had a really weird dream that it was Halloween and I was at this "museum" with my parents and my friend Magnolia. We went into the museum and there was a little kids room and we were in there when one kid started chasing the rest of us and we were terrified bc as soon as she touched someone, they turned into an exact replica of her, and so the remaining kids ran and I ended up right in front of a hall of these kids, like ten of them. They saw me and I ran, ending up at this weird playground thingy. Only one of them was still chasing me, and I avoided her like a badass. I found my dad and my uncle at this concert and the people on stage were obviously these clone things. I told my dad and he believed me for some reason. Then again, it's a dream. I went back to the museum to find my mom but couldn't and needed a car, and I saw a group of people in costume. And Brendon Urie was one of them. Which is weird cause I live in Pennsylvania and he lives in Vegas or something? Anyway, I was chasing him like a deranged fangirl or something (which I am tbh), and he tripped over a trash can, and I told him about the clone people. For some reason, he, too, believed me, and I ended up getting a ride from Brendon to get my mom?

What is my brain I mean

But I got to meet Brendon Urie in the dream sooooo...

I had this other dream where I was with Tyler Joseph but I don’t remember it well

Ok so I had another dream this time it was "the Hat Fic" (which I'm never going to read btw) but instead it was this fanfic about Fall Out Boy in which Pete has to kill the other members for some reason

I had another dream where I lived with Dan and Phil and there were unicorns and a girl wearing a Fall Out Boy shirt And I opened the door to the house I lived in with Dan and Phil and they were like "what do you see" and I said "Phan" (even though I don't ship it that much) which freaked them out And then I woke up

I had a dream that I was with a group of killjoys and I had to save the original killjoys and we did and there were people shooting at us but when party poison appeared they were like “oh no it’s party poison” and backed up and then another party poison appeared and we were like “WhO iS tHe ReAl PaRtY pOiSoN??!?” And there were little children and they figured out that the first one was the real one even though his uniform was all messed up but you know the other ones jacket was white and literally said “DeAd pegAsUS” so yeah So we were walking out with party poison and I was like hi party poison and I looked at him and what did I see? THIS KID IN MY GRADE IN A RED WIG WTF

So I’ve had three dreams about warped tour in the past three days and here they are

Don’t remember it that well but my best friend was there and we walked around but it was before anything actually started and I think it was in a library

We saw Falling In Reverse (my best friend was also there) and we were in like the front row and it was great

For some reason the entire family decided to show up and we were eating at a restaurant and we had my dog and my mom was like “go take him to the dog park thing and then hang out with your friends” so I took the dog to the dog park thing but all the dogs were wayyyy bigger than him and so I was like “lol no” and carried him back and he turned into a loaf of bread so I ate the loaf of bread and gave one little piece to my mom and she was like “where’s the dog” and I said “lol what do you think that bread was” and then my dad and my brother got into an argument about whether or not the dog was still alive

I had another dream about warped tour even though its been a few weeks basically I went to warped tour with Sarah and we met Palaye Royale and for some reason they decided to hang out with us so we were like lol sure so we just walked around and talked to Palaye Royale for a few hours fun

I had another dream that I saw Panic! again and Dallon was still there and Brendon flew right over me during Dying in LA. Also my friend Tori was there and I was texting my other friend about it the entire time and then later I went to visit him and then I woke up

I had another dream where we were at a school thing and Gerard Way was there but it was 2017 Gerard Way and he was doing a signing/meet and greet and I got too scared to talk to him but then later he came up to me and we talked a little bit and then the head of the school talked to me, my best friend, and some other girl about making a bi club and I would have to make the promotional video so yay

I had another dream that it was warped tour (I’ve had like five of these smh I’m still not over it) anyway I saw As It Is with my best friend and then met Patty Walters which was pretty cool. And then later I ended up in a school bus and part of a horror movie (????) and then when I got out of that I got wrapped up in this car washing thing for school cause Fall Out Boy was there and Pete started spraying me with a giant hose so I got mad and slapped his car. And then finally I got out of the car washing thing but I got lost and had to help this old guy and watched a few episodes of some show about animated fish. And then I finally got back to warped but Palaye’s set was over and their meet and greet was also almost over. So I got at the end of the line and talked to Emerson for a really long time and hugged Sebastian for like a minute straight and it was fun.

So I’ve had two dreams about Hot Topic:

The first one I just walked in and I’m pretty sure they had a bunch of like comforters and bedsheets for sale??? And then I walked down this really creepy staircase to this underground room which was huge and full of records and posters and stuff and I had a lot of fun.

So I had another one just the other day that the mall near my house was closing so me and two of my friends decided to walk around for the last time and we found the Hot Topic and the inside was kinda empty but the outside had all the band merch. We went inside and Awsten Knight was there and he was like “hi I’m going to draw on you” to one of my friends and started drawing on her so we were all sitting together and I talked about warped and Awsten was like “oh cool you saw me at warped have a free poster or two OR THREE give them to your friends” and I was like “thanks” and then he said “no thank you, little teenager Awsten is quaking” and I was like “ohhhh”

I had another dream that I was at this camp thing and Beyoncé was there and me and my best friend went to this other thing with Hayley Kiyoko and she hugged Hayley really awkwardly and then Tom Holland appeared and it turned out there was this like claw machine that lets you pick out celebrities at any age and two kids were playing with it and they brought out 8 year old Frank Iero and he was really mean and hated me for no reason and also highkey looked like a vampire

I had ANOTHER dream about warped Jesus Christ I need to stop Anyway I was on a tower with a bunch of people from school and watching the main stage from there and mcr was the last band playing and Remington was there and he climbed on the stage and they played Surrender the Night and closed with Burn Bright which is cool

I had a dream that I saw Paramore and I was like right in the front and Hayley kept making eye contact with me and then there was an intermission and panic! played and it was a fun time

Why am I like this what has the internet done to me

[nerdy-flower]

@sinunamor here it is! This is part 1 of a 3-part headcanon I’ve had for a while, I really hope you like it! Sorry it took forever ;^;

Hugo knows change has come to roost when Ernest's dinnertime debriefs turn from reluctant, barely-there details to soap-opera recaps with all the accompanying comedy and tragedy.

“-and I didn't even know this, but Mackenzie told me later, that they were dating before he even dumped Emily, which is like- come <i>on,</i> dude. Did you look at all your options and pick the douchiest possible one?”

“That is very selfish,” Hugo says, frowning around a mouthful of chicken. “I always thought Pat was a nice young man.”

“So did I!” Ernest snorts, stabbing at his rice and sending some spilling over the side. “He's literally the only reason I've been hanging out with the theatre kids. The rest of them are so-”

Damien cuts in as Ernest briefly flails, searching for a word. “Dramatic?”

“Weak,” Ernest pulls a face, seemingly physically pained by the quality of the dad-joke, while Damien appears rather pleased with himself, chuckling into his hand. “Anyway, so Mackenzie said that Pat told her he was just going to keep it on the downlow, basically, until summer because Emily's moving, right? It won't be as awkward then. Except I guess they kind of forgot that their Insta accounts aren't private? So now everyone knows, and Emily has to stage manage her ex-boyfriend while he has a romantic subplot with her former rugby teammate. Because that's not going to go terribly at all.”

“Good heavens,” Damien replies after a moment, dabbing his lips with a cloth napkin. “I don't recall any tales so tangled from my youth, but then, perhaps I've repressed all that nonsense.”

“Didn't they get voted 'cutest couple' in the yearbook?” Hugo cringes as Ernest enthusiastically nods, kindly not answering with his mouth full. “Oh god, and that just went to the printers- No wonder Ms. Lee had aspirin with her lunch today.”

“Yeah, it's all like ten levels of stupid,” Ernest grumbles, not even distracted by Duchess' damp nose nudging at his lap. “I swear, I'm gonna have like no friends by graduation because I can't deal with everybody acting like they've found their soulmate and then dumping them in two weeks. No one our age is gonna get married until our thirties, anyway, shit's expensive.”

“Language,” Hugo chimes in, met with the usual roll of the eyes and offended huff.

“One's youth can be rather fraught and strained,” Damien adds with a knowing grimace, their cutlery clinking audibly against their plates in the quiet coziness of Hugo's dining room. “But you'll find people who don't engage with those sorts of theatrics. And besides, those who do will soon grow out of it.”

“Yeah right, I've heard that one before,” Ernest scoffs, returning to his food. He's quiet for the rest of the meal, and their walk through the park at dusk, Duchess and her boy running ahead. Damien's fingers find Hugo's after sending a quick check-in text to Lucien, and he feels a tentative kind of bliss run through him in the warmth of the setting sun.

***

Hugo's deep-down, etched-on-his-bones love for his job keeps him motivated through all the obnoxious students, righteously indignant parents, and illogical funding cuts, but he does keep a small, hate-fuelled torch burning for outdoor supervision. It's especially hard not to envision his student loan payments going up in smoke while breaking up fights, confiscating cigarettes, or discovering another hopelessly unoriginal piece of lewd graffiti.

Today has been blissfully quiet, if blanketed by damp warmth. He wipes sweat from his brow as he continues his circle around the middle school building. A new fast food joint had recently opened down the street and the promise of buy-one-get-one fries had draw most of the troublemakers away. With the bell approaching, he turns to head in and spots a familiar orange hoodie near the emergency exit ramp behind the library and sighs. No one is ever up to anything good behind the library.

He's still a good thirty feet away, obscured by the parked rustbucket cars in the student lot when he glimpses a shock of pink hair attached to one of his Comp Lit students from Ernest's grade. Tahereh is her name and she's giggling, along with his son, and leaning in awfully close- Nope.

Nope, nope, nope. He turns on his heel and walks away as quickly and quietly as he can. His son deserves privacy, and he had mentioned being paired on a geography project with that girl-

Hugo blows out a sigh, purposefully forgetting the follies of his own adolescence before he gets himself worked up over nothing.

***

A lengthy text conversation with Nick is an unusual relief. He would have preferred to do it by phone, but the man is in England of all places on a work trip. Besides, it's a little more private should Ernest come strolling in.

HV: You're sure you're okay with me taking the helm on this one?

NH: Oh yeah, I'm not worried. You're better at this kinda stuff than I am.

NH: I'll be home in a couple days so I can run recon if things go south lol

Hugo does manage to chuckle at that. Nick instructs him to break a leg and says he's turning in but to text if need be. A lengthy message pops in from Damien, having been Hugo's confidante the previous day, reminding him that his own similar chat with Lucien a few years prior was awkward at the time, but went a long way in maintaining good communication. As well as reassurance that Hugo is a wonderful father with no reason to doubt himself, and this is another prime example of it.

The usual expressions of affection at the close never fail to make Hugo smile. He types a slightly longer than necessary reply and pushes his glasses up. With a silent pep talk, he heads upstairs. It's not like he's going in blind. They've had plenty of very open talks since Ernest was small. About bodies and boundaries and babies. This topic isn't inherently uncomfortable, it's on him to shake that mindset.

Ernest's room is in its usual disarray, but he beckons him in quickly and takes his earbuds out. Flat on his back with his tablet held overhead. As good a start as any.

He assumes the best non-threatening parental figure pose, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees. Ernest is way too clever to fall for the small-talk nonsense so he skips to the point. “I hope you're not upset by this, but I saw you and Tahereh behind the school last-”

“What the hell?” Ernest bites back, anger narrowing his eyes as he drops his tablet and sits up fully. “You're spying on me now?”

“Of course not!” Hugo answers, quick and even with hands held up. “I was on yard duty, I turned right around. The only reason I'm bringing it up is-”

“She's not my girlfriend,” Ernest spits back, blushing and running hot. He draws his knees up and hugs them, a habit leftover from his toddling years. “We just kissed because we're cool like that. It was whatever. Don't make a big deal out of it.”

“I'm not, I promise,” Hugo says, confused and not entirely convinced but trying not to let on. “But say you did find someone you liked and wanted to start dating them, your Pop and I wouldn't be opposed at all. I only wanted to check in with you about er, safety and-”

“Oh my god,” Ernest covers his face, dragging the last word out into a strangled note of exasperation. “I've had sex ed like five times already, I don't need this. Please just shut up.”

Hugo decides admonishing him via their no 'shut up' rule would only make things worse. “I know you have all the basics covered. I just need you to know that you can always come to me or Pop for anything, okay? Don't ever feel embarrassed.” He reaches into his shirt pocket, takes a deep breath, and removes the small cardboard container, pushing it across the comforter towards his son. “And if you need these at any point, don't-”

“Oh my god, no,” Ernest's scowl deepens, the blush creeping down his neck as he explodes in frustration. “No, no, <i>no</i>! I'm never gonna need those, so just get the hell out of here!”

Hugo feels the wrinkles crease on his face as he struggles to say the right thing. Had the divorce put him off the idea of relationships entirely? God, he's too young to be thinking that way, isn't he? “I just want you to have these in case, you know, you meet someone and you want-”

“I don't 'want,' I never have and I'm never going to!” Ernest throws his hands up, eyes still flashing. “I'm a fucking freak, are you happy now? Get <i>out!</i>”

Hugo does not, merely stills as Ernest mashes his face into his knees, actually vibrating from anger, sadness, or both. It nearly does him in, there's nothing that hurts him more than seeing his son in pain. Thankfully, he had said just enough for the puzzle pieces to snap together in Hugo's head.

When the boy's breathing evens out, Hugo dares to inch closer, the mattress sagging with his weight. “Ernest, you're not a freak. There's lots of asexual people in the world and-”

“Name one.” The snappish tone is muffled by denim and knobby knees.

“Well, I mean, I don't know any personally,” Hugo says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But they do exist, they're not unicorns.”

“Unicorns don't exist? This entire day sucks.” They both laugh hesitantly at that, a sigh resounding from under the orange hoodie. “Mrs. Finn said in health that people who say they're asexual are just dealing with like, trauma or whatever. We're all driven to make more people, so it makes no sense scientifically.”

Hugo silently counts to three in his head. “Have you ever been hurt?”

That finally picks his head up, glaring at his father again. “No!”

“Then clearly that's not true. Ca- Mrs. Finn is sadly misinformed.” And would be told as much, without directly mentioning Ernest. Seniority be damned, he was going to have words with the Board that's what it takes. He manages a small smile for Ernest. “If sex is only about reproduction, how do you account for gay people?”

“Gay people can still like- do what's necessary to make a kid.” Ernest waves a hand towards himself. “C'est voila, or whatever.”

Hugo snort-laughs at that, he does admire his son's wit even in serious moments. “Well, so can ace people. There's lots of ways to make a family.” Ernest merely grumbles in reply and looks away. “And- I know it really doesn't seem that way sometimes, but there's a lot more to relationships than the physical bits. They're important to some people, but not everyone, and not in the same way.”

Ernest stays resolutely silent, staring at a fraying movie poster on the wall. “You will find someone who loves you, mijo. It might take time, but you'll find them.”

“Yeah, when I'm finally old enough to join Virgin4Virgin dot net.” Ernest only slightly resists his dad's chastising ruffle of his hair, glancing down at the box of condoms with moderate disgust. “Can you throw those out and we pretend this never happened?”

“I'll put them in the bathroom cupboard. I'm not saying you will, but if you ever did want to be with someone that way-” Hugo tucks the box in his pocket as Ernest's pained groan cuts him off. “Listen, this could have been much worse. Before I went to my first party, your Abuela made me sit at the dining room table and wouldn't let me leave until I correctly put a condom on a banana.”

“You're lying,” Ernest replies blankly, only for his eyes to bug out at Hugo's unfailing stare. “You're serious? Oh my god, that's- I can't believe Abuela is capable of such savagery.”

“You don't know the half of it,” Hugo chuckles darkly, then carefully touches Ernest's shoulder. “Hey, I'm really glad you told me. I won't tell Pop, that's your conversation to have with him.”

“Thanks,” Ernest glances down, frowning and fidgeting in place. “Can I like, go now? I promised Carmensita I'd help her set up for open mic night.”

Hugo smiles stiffly, moving out of his son's way. “Yeah, you can go now. Text me when you're there, alright?”

Ernest makes a non-committal noise and hurries down the stairs, drawing the attention of Duchess. Hugo shuts the bedroom door behind him with a small sigh.

***

Carmensita's dad comes with the most fringe benefits by far. Not only are they allowed 'backstage' provided they help out and don't cause trouble (Ernest never has, something about how calm Mat is kinda intimidates him to be honest, it's the ones with the longest fuses that you have to watch out for), they get to enjoy the whole show for free and eat/drink anything leftover at the end of the night. Even if some of the acts are a little weird, it's still way cooler than sitting around watching TV.

“Hugo knows he's picking you up, right?” Lucien asks over the roof of his secondhand car, keys in his hand. “I've got plans after.”

Ernest grins wide. “Man, don't ask him out if you can't even say his name right.”

Lucien somewhat-gently shoves him as they cross the small parking lot. “Hey, have you ever heard about shut the hell up?”

He disappears into the crowd and Ernest soon finds Carmensita. He's been spending way more time with her lately. Girls aren't gross about sex like all his guy friends are now, making “that's what she said” jokes literally every five seconds. She's also one of the last vestiges of sanity in his grade, as off-put by the constant dating drama as he is. They sit in the back kitchen, chatting with the younger, more anxious performers and talking about 'Hamilton' between sets.

“I'm pretty sure I'm gonna listen to the cast album once a week for the rest of my life,” she says, cheek full of Right Said Banana Bread, or whatever it's called this week. “And I'm totally okay with that.”

“Oh, once a week minimum,” Ernest nods eagerly, leaning out to watch some college kid plunk away on an acoustic guitar. Bo-ring. “I would straight up sell my soul to write that good. Like, find me one lyric that doesn't land. One, I dare you.”

“It doesn't exist,” she concurs, picking a crumb out of her front braces. “Oh! You'll never guess who's finally putting out a new album!”

“Who?”

And on and on it goes. Even though the linoleum hurts his butt, chilling with Carmensita is his favourite part of the week. No fighting, no bullshit, just goofs and talking about whatever. She's basically the funniest person he knows, doing an impression of Damien that has him choking on his own spit. It makes him forget everything else. Well, almost.

Once everyone files out, they pick up their brooms and try to clean up quickly while Mat counts the money. He heads into the back to put a bank bag together and leaves them jamming to the music still playing over the speakers.

Ernest stops polishing the counter to the beat, his curiosity getting the best of him. “Hey, 'Sita?”

Carmensita glances up, still doing something between the mashed potato and the tootsie roll while sweeping, not in the least caring about the backlit glass storefront behind her. He wishes he were that cool. “Yeah?”

“Do you think asexuality's like, a thing?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Carmensita replies, knocking a couple muffin wrappers from beneath a table like she's going for the slapshot. “Why?”

“Eh, no reason.” Ernest shrugs and keep polishing. “Just seems kinda weird to me, is all?”

“Not really though,” Carmensita pushes her pink glasses back up, tucking the broom under her arm to gesture. “It's like that thing in that Bruce Willis superhero movie. If there's someone at one end of the spectrum, there's gotta be someone else at the other end, plus all the people in the middle, right?”

Ernest makes a considering noise, pitching his scrubber into the sink. “Yeah, you're right.”

Mat returns and they lock up, Hugo's car humming in the empty street. Ernest fist-bumps Carmensita as she heads off with her dad. “We're still on for the fair next Saturday right? I'm retaking my skee ball title this year!”

“In your dreams,” she sticks her tongue out and waves to him. “Don't get grounded, okay?”

“I won't!” Ernest grins, turning and shuffling towards the hopefully not-awkward, air-conditioned comfort of his dad's car.

[thornstocutyouwith]

- The Basics -

Name: Shkodran(Ancient Roman City) Hiraku( expand, open, support) Arihiro (Have broad mind) Hyeon ( virtuous, worthy, able ) Pronunciation: SH-KOD-RAN Hi/He-Raku Ar-e-Hero Hie-uh-ohn/ Alias/Nicknames: Matthew(Gift of God)  Hyeon Age: 18-27 Race: Japanese, Tanzanian, Albanian, Budu, Nigerian(Mother) on his mothers side, and Korean(Father), Chinese, Bantu on his fathers side Gender: Male Blood Type: A+ Date Of Birth: Dec. 26, 1995 Place of Birth: Lomé, Togo

Faceclaim: Li Wenhan

Family/Pets: Mother, Father, (Oldest) Sister, (Second Oldest)Brother, (Second Youngest)Sister, (Youngest) Brother. Pet cat named Saint Lifestyle: Unknown Religion: Unknown

Alignment: Unknown

Occupation: Student Position Held / Rank: N/A Social Class: Unknown Economic Class: Unknown Reputation: Chaotic Loser (lol) IQ: 120 - 140 - Very superior intelligence Zodiac: Capricorn Sexuality: Homosexual Relationship Status:  Single Married: No

- Personality -

- Physical - Height: 5′7″ Weight: 127 Hair Color: Auburn Hair Style: Braided back Eye Color: Grey Skin Tone: Lightly tanned Piercings:

Jacob's Ladder - When a man has a row of frenum or dorsal frenum piercings on his penile shaft, it's called a Jacob's Ladder.

Horizontal Lip Piercings

Nostril Piercings 2

Angel Bites - Angel Bite Piercings appear on either side of the philtrum (i.e. the groove between you upper lip and nose).

Antitragus Piercings - This is a piercing of cartilage directly across from the Tragus.

Cartilage Piercings/Helix Piercings - Any piercing of the cartilage towards the top of your ear.

Chest Piercings - This is a type of surface piercing where a bar with 2 protruding ends is placed under the skin of the chest.

Tattoos: No Build: Lean Scars: No Voice Pitch: Accent: Aura: Yellow-green: Passionate, communicative Special Appearance Notes: Dominant Hand: Left - Specific Detail - Languages Spoken: English, Korean Written: English

Personality:

Frivolous, Warm, Assertive, Dry, Mellow, Disorderly, Lazy, Subjective, Sarcastic, Intuitive, Clear-headed, Neat, Empathetic, Grim, Artful, Amusing, Insensitive,   Provocative, Personable, Charismatic, Private, Questioning, Incorruptible, Insouciant, Domineering, Callous, Noncompetitive, Honorable, Solemn, Scornful,

- Attire -

General Clothing: Jacket, Shirt, Pants, Boots, Socks, Boxers Special Clothing: Swimwear, Business, Fancy, Party Jewelry: Locket, Ring, Necklace, Accessories: Beanie, Backpack, Gloves Armor: None Yet - Equipment - Weapons: None Yet General Tools: None Yet Other:

- Skills/Talents/Powers -

Superhuman Traits: Mystical Bardsmanship, Opposing Forces Empowerment, Holy Fire Artillery, Path Manipulation, Science Manipulation, General Skills/Talents:

Drawing

Coordinating

Diplomacy

Driving

Gadgeteering

Map Making

Stargazing

Charm

Investigation

Dodging

Cooperation

Tracking

Healing

Predicting the Weather

Hot wiring a car

Leadership

Combat Skills:  None yet Weapon Skills:  None Yet Special Training: None Yet

- Statistics -

Speed: Unknown Agility: Unknown Reflexes: Unknown Evasiveness: Unknown Strength: Unknown Defense: Unknown Endurance: Unknown Dexterity: Unknown Mind: Unknown Will: Unknown Social: Unknown Skill: Unknown

- Favorites, Dislikings, and More -

General Likings: Hiding, Unicorns, Being Stealthy, Knives, Musicals, Sorting things, Ancient China, Rubber Stamps, Tracking, Public Speaking, Snails, Cosplaying, Space Operas General Dislikings: Skeletons, Horror Novels,  Mathematics, Painting, Fairies, Card Games, Spiders, Playing the Guitar, Sculpting, Carpentry, Pole Dancing, Cop Shows, Frogs, Fears / Phobias: Nosophobia (Fear of Disease), Ranidaphobia (Fear of Frogs), Gelotophobia (Fear of being laughed at), Achluophobia (Fear of Darkness) Favorite Food: Gorgonzola Preferred Beverage: Water Goal: Stop the Nightmare Lord, I guess lol Motto: Quotes: Mental Disorders: None Addictions: None

- History -

Personal:

Past

To be Determined

Present

Matthew is a student in an American school/College. Having grown up with his classmates since he was a child Matthew has become like an average image of an American teenager and doesn’t stand out as a new kid. During the years he has lived in a America Matthew has had a crush on another boy at school who showed up around the same time he did. Finally Matthew has gotten the courage to try and at the very least befriend the other teen. After initiating the conversation first the two seemed to hit it off like old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while.

Learning that the other boy had been allowed to be more wild and free then himself, Matthew took an interest in the others motorized bike. The boy, whose name is Jackson Salmon, offered to teach Matthew how to ride a motorized bike. Which Matthew accepted the offer excitedly, imaging learning something from someone he had been crushing on. Though mostly he was excited about the time they were spending together. After a short while Matthew learned how to ride these sort of bikes well enough.

Though one day Jackson had asked Matthew to show him how well he had learned in their time together and invited Matthew to take Jackson to a ‘place’ that Jackson had apparently lived before, only a couple minutes from the town they were living in now. Matthew had paused for a moment upon hearing it was in a desert, thinking that anything could happen to them if they weren’t careful. But eventually he decided that in a day or two they could go, he just wanted to pack a few things before taking the little trip, just in case.

That evening Matthew went home and packed a backpack with water and snacks before going to bed. It was the weekend so he didn’t need to worry about school the next day. He placed his backpack in the plastic crate on his big, gently so he wouldn’t smash or bust anything open before then taking off on the bike he bought, to pick up Jackson. Several hours into their trip they came to a bridge where Jackson had said they were close all they needed was to cross over and then they can stop to have a rest. Matthew sped toward the bridge then across it in a matter of minutes.

After arriving to the town that Jackson had said they lived in years before Matthew noticed something off about it. It looked like it had been abandoned, for about as many years as Jackson told him they had been away from it. Upon asking why Jackson moved the other told him their had been an incident and the town was evacuated before being quarantined because of some chemical spill at a plant near by. The explanation had seemed real enough so Matthew moved on following Jackson as the other had made it to a home nearby. He listen as the other had said they used to live in that exact house.

Though it didn’t take long for Matthew to learn Jackson’s apparent reason for bringing them their, besides just to share a bit of their past with Matthew. Before Matthew had realized it the pair were talking and learning things about each other, as they had been in the time leading up to then. But eventually Matthew became tired and started to drift off to sleep, not even realizing he had until hours later when he woke up with a started jump. Not soon after he realized Jackson was no where to be seen, and he could hear something making noises just behind him.

Looking over his shoulder Matthew had seen something desperately clawing at the almost entirely zipped up back pack he had placed on the floor before. Standing he walked over seeing what seemed to be one water bottle having been opened. Unzipping his backpack he found his pet cat Saint inside who, once he finally got to settle down a bit after seeing him and rubbing against Matthews body happily purring. Matthew had then grumbled about the other sneaking into his bag the night before. Though as he was looking around he noticed that he didn’t see Jackson anywhere in the house.

It had been dark outside, or nearly daylight by the time Matthew searched everywhere and decided to just go ahead and leave. He felt disappointed that Jackson must have left without him as well. So managing to get Saint back in the backpack, it being a chore to do. Matthew eventually made his way back outside, holding the straps of the backpack as he walked, seeing that thankfully his bike had remained where he parked it the evening before. Only something else had caught his eye as he was making his way toward the bike. Making their way toward him were strange ashy faced, grey in skin and clothing a like, people.

Seeing them Matthew had a ominous feeling come over him. Quickly he turned away and started run for his bike, getting on as quickly as he could and starting it up only for one of the grey humanoid looking people to charge for him, then quickly after the rest of the small pack followed. Matthew managed to pull away on the bike before he was surrounded only one had managed to climb onto the bike and grab his backpack, yanking at Matthew in an attempt to either make him wreck the bike or pull Matthew off. Though the attempts didn’t work at all and Matthew managed to get to the bridge and almost entirely across it before being able to toss the man who had a hold of him off into the river below the bridge.

Eventually he got far enough away, and parked in what he figured must have been an abandoned landfill. Taking a breath he got off the bike and went to remove his backpack only to find that it had already been gone. In a panic he suddenly felt worried for his cat Saint and desperately looked around, hoping that it had become loose after he crossed the bridge and not while he was on it, which was the last time he knew for sure he had the backpack.  He heard a meowing and Saint came running toward him jumping into his arms. Not worried about the rest of the items in his backpack Matthew decided he had had enough adventure to last him a while and placed Saint in the basket that was still attached to his bike before heading home.

The next day at school, annoyed and angry about what Jackson had done, and seeing the other laughing with their friends as if they hadn’t ditched him completely in the middle of no where, Matthew confronted the other teen who seemed absolutely shocked to see Matthew standing there, that they hadn’t seemed to notice he was yelling at them in front of everyone in the hallways. When Jackson uttered something about how Matthew shouldn’t have been ‘there’ Matthew gave a confused look before shoving the other and telling them never to talk to him again, then Matthew went his next class, thinking that was the end of it.

But what Matthew didn’t know was that this had only been the beginning of a problem that was beginning to be set in motion. Because back at the bridge something had come walking out of the river underneath it. Something that was going to change the entire way Matthew’s world had worked before.

Future

To be Determined

Occupational: To be Planned      

[simping-on-the-daily]

Credit to @Luxet for her great prompts!

We’re going to be Chelsea, since she was my first Sander Sides gal. <->

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? “Oh, definitely Spotify! The community is lovely, and it’s free!” is your room messy or clean? “My bedroom is clean, but that little corner of my mind room? Yeah, that’s a mess. :p” what color are your eyes? “Pink! A bright magenta, if we’re being exact!” do you like your name? why? “Oh, that’s a question I haven’t heard! ........Yeah, I like it!” what is your relationship status? “Taken by an emo baby. Well, it’s more like I’ve taken him.” describe your personality in 3 words or less “Hmmm......optimistic, bubbly, caring! I prefer listing the good stuff rather then the bad.” what color hair do you have? “Another pink colour! This time it’s more like a salmonish? Light reddish pink? Something like that.” what kind of car do you drive? color? “The day I drive a car is the day Thomas isn’t showing basic human decency. In other words, never. But, I do like those silver SUVs!” where do you shop? “You can’t really shop in the mindscape, considering that we can just summon things, but I do enjoy those nice little comfort shops! Like, those candle places!” how would you describe your style? “Pretty comfy :D!” favorite social media account “Oh, I do enjoy Tumblr and DeviantArt! Get rid of the bad people and not for kids art and it’s awesome!” what size bed do you have? “An Olympic Queen.” any siblings? “I’m not Roman or Remus! Nah, I’m an only child. But a sibling would be really nice!” if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? “Put me next to a beach house and I’m set.” favorite snapchat filter? “I don’t use Snapchat, but I like seeing those glittery and soft aesthetic ones.” favorite makeup brand(s) “Oh, oh, oh! Wet N Wild cosmetics are so nice!” how many times a week do you shower? “God, why are you making me do maths? I mean, we don’t have to shower or do any bathroom business, but I do shower when I wake up and when I get to bed.” favorite tv show? ”We’re gonna be here all day I discuss them. But, does My Hero Academia count?” shoe size? “Somewhere in the 10s, I think.” how tall are you? “6′1. I’m pretty tall, but I’m short then Logan. He’s a giant.” sandals or sneakers? “Sandals are much more comfy!” do you go to the gym? “Don’t need to, don’t want to.” describe your dream date “A dream date is one when we’re both enjoying each other’s presence doing something we love. To me, that’s a dream date.” how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? “Right now, there’s.......$65?” what color socks are you wearing? “Black and white striped socks!” how many pillows do you sleep with? “In my own bed, I have a unicorn pillow pet and two giant pillows on each side. It’s so comfy in there!” do you have a job? what do you do? “My job is giving out free hugs!” how many friends do you have? “All of the sides, I’m guessing? And any friend of Thomas is a friend of mine!” whats the worst thing you have ever done? “Can we please skip the question? I don’t want to talk about it.....” whats your favorite candle scent? “I’m going to go with Parrafin!” 3 favorite boy names “For children? I like Connor, Aiden and Jacob.” 3 favorite girl names “Faith, Hope and Harmony!” favorite actor? “Thomas Sanders! Duh.” favorite actress? “Emma Watson.” who is your celebrity crush? “Chris Hemsworth. He’s hot, okay?” favorite movie? “The BNHA Movies!” do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? “Not a fan of reading a lot, but I do enjoy a good Harry Potter story.” money or brains? “The brains make money.” do you have a nickname? what is it? “Ask Roman. He has plenty of them for me.” how many times have you been to the hospital? “We don’t have a hospital in the mindscape, but Remus makes you cross that limit of healing a lot.” top 10 favorite songs ”I think some of them were in my character bio from Amino?” do you take any medications daily? “Nah.” what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) “Smooth.” what is your biggest fear? “That’s pretty personal! :C But, probably not being able to help others....” how many kids do you want? “Two, maybe? I don’t want that much, you know. So much responsibility!” whats your go to hair style? "My hair's usually curly and in a ponytail!" What type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) “The Mind Palace is always changing (most because of Roman), but right now we’ve got a beach house setting!” who is your role model? “Thomas is always being a great person to everyone he meets even when he’s not doing his videos', but Clifford Chapin has lost his voice due to playing Bakugou so much! That’s real dedication right there!” what was the last compliment you received? “It was from Virgil! He said I have a really nice comforting smile. :)” what was the last text you sent? “Roman asked me if I could give him back his hairdryer.” how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? “I think I was nine? What I did know was that Remus committed a bit crime that day.” what is your dream car? “An SUV!” opinion on smoking? “Oh.........you want my advice on it? Don't abuse it, please. It’s okay if you do it on occasion, but your health is extremely important. There are lines out there if you are a heavy smoker or just want to talk about it. I’m here for you.” do you go to college? “We’re back on the basic questions! I personally didn’t, but Thomas might’ve.”  what is your dream job? “I really just want to help people and be there for them. You don’t need a job to do that.” would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? “Suburbs!” do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? “I prefer using my own shampoo and conditioner! Besides, I don’t even need to use them.” do you have freckles? “Nah.” do you smile for pictures? “I always do! Roman says he’s never seen me frown in pictures, and he’s my creator!” how many pictures do you have on your phone? “In my gallery, there’s five thousand and six hundred right now. We don’t have a storage limit to how much stuff we can post.” have you ever peed in the woods? “Bold of you to assume I even go in the woods.” do you still watch cartoons? “Cartoons are still shows! They still have deep meanings to them. I mean, look at Steven Universe! That’s a cartoon and WOW, it taught me more about life then some live action show could!” do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? “I’ve never had Wendy’s before, so I’ll go with McDonalds! I prefer KFC chips, though.” Favorite dipping sauce? “Its a tie between Sweet N Sour and Tomato.” what do you wear to bed? “I wear nighties.” have you ever won a spelling bee? “You’re acting like I’ve participated in one. ;p” what are your hobbies? “Once again, I think they’re in a bio of mine.” can you draw? “With a lot of referencing, yeah!” do you play an instrument? “I play a ukulele sometimes, but that’s out of sheer fun. And my ukulele skills suck.” what was the last concert you saw? “Depends on what was the last concert Thomas went to.” tea or coffee? “Coffee. It keeps me alert. Also makes me my happy peppy self!” (If you get where the reference is from, I love you.) Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? “Donuts rule! Remy can go to Starbucks all he wants, but I’m gonna stick with my donuts.” do you want to get married? “Absolutely! I don’t want to rush into it, though. Don’t want to make Virgil uncomfortable.” what is your crush’s first and last initial? “Is it a crush if you’re already together? ….the initials are V.S.” are you going to change your last name when you get married? “I don’t even have a last name. :p Chelsea Sanders.......feels nice on the tongue, but I’ll think about that later!” what color looks best on you? “Black and pink! I have really pale skin, so the black works. Pink naturally looks good on me.” do you miss anyone right now? ”Not really. But that’s right now!” do you sleep with your door open or closed? “Closed. Mostly because Virgil likes it closed.” do you believe in ghosts? “Trust me, I believe in everything, That Santa question? He exists in the Mind Palace. Ghosts are something you get used to.” what is your biggest pet peeve? “Lemme think........smacking gum, watching TV and then some loud appliance turns on, and saying ‘no offense’, but then saying something offensive.” last person you called “On the phone, it was Aisha. In real life, I had to scream out for Roman for a while.” favorite ice cream flavor? “Strawberry! Rainbow’s a close second.” regular oreos or golden oreos? “Normal Oreos!” chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? “Rainbow! :D” what shirt are you wearing? “Right now I’m wearing a Trolls: World Tour shirt.” what is your phone background? “Virgil and I with a Snapchat filter! Roman helped with that.” are you outgoing or shy? “Defiantly outgoing.” do you like it when people play with your hair? “Absolutely! It’s calming and I play with my hair myself sometimes.” do you like your neighbors? “My neighbors? Well, the dark sides live next to us, so.......they’re visiting, though! They’re staying here for the day.” do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? “Right after I take a shower.” have you ever been high? “I’m always very thrilled and overjoyed!” have you ever been drunk? “.........REMUS, CAN WE GET DRUNK?” last thing you ate? “Patton’s cookies.” favorite lyrics right now “It’s tied between these two. They’re both from Trolls: World Tour, It’s All Love!” Nobody's born hatin' Nobody's born fake Why we fightin' over something we can all make? That's stingy love I'm just givin' love Ain't no givin' up If you alive, only thing to do is live it up Along with that, there’s: Hate is just lost love So they hidin' summer or winter? “Summer, but Spring is my favourite season!” day or night? “Day!” dark, milk, or white chocolate? “Milk chocolate. Dark is too bitter, and white is too milky.” favorite month? “December! It’s Christmas and man, I love Christmas!” what is your zodiac sign “I’m a Gemini!” who was the last person you cried in front of? “Virgil.”

[abumblebeeat221b]

Sherlock and the Female Gaze

If anyone asked me to point them to the most revolutionary piece of media ever created I’d probably show them Doctor Who (because guys - nothing beats a show that is basically Sherlock Holmes in space and keeps reinventing itself every other year).

But the second thing would be Sherlock. Not Doyle’s original, not the Rathbone, Granada, Soviet, new Russian adaptations (even though they are dear to me). Just 13 episodes of a TV show that was only ever meant to win some obscure film award in Eastern Europe and became a success over night instead.

The fandom that does its research has spent seven years trying to pinpoint its secret and the only thing we can agree on are three little words: it looks pretty.

On a more serious note: it is probably the first thing which made male eye-candy unashamedly mainstream. It is the millennial version of Pride and Prejudice, of Mr. Darcy, only that this time society doesn’t expect the story to bore our boyfriends to death.

And I’m not even sure that was something Mofftiss and Co were aiming for.

You see. It is a truth universally acknowledged that men have no idea what women like. They confuse it with male power fantasies ALL THE TIME because that’s what the media tells them we are day dreaming about. They are shocked to learn that we think Loki to be the sexually most appealing hero villain in the Avangers, that we consider Rodger from the original 101 Dalmatians to be perfect boyfriend material, that yes, we’d happily choose a dog loving, kind individual (with great hair) over most more manly super heroes out there.

And Sherlock ticks all the right boxes for women to find him attractive, while most guys wouldn’t think that lanky nerd to be much of a competition for them.

The cherry on our metaphorical fandom-cake is that Sherlock  is pretty much the first thing produced for a main stream audience I know of* which treats its leading male character as if he was a woman in order to cater to the female gaze (because the lgbqt+ community was not the only reason why the name Cumberbatch has showed up on most versions of the sexiest men alive lists since 2010/11).

Women look at Sherlock and think ‘sexy’ because we’ve been conditioned by the media to recognise this is what ‘sexy’ looks like.

And this my friends is where the magic happens.

You want the list? Here have the list:

A well-tailored suit is to women what lingerie is to men. And let me tell you Sherlock wearing suits doesn’t look like a coincidence from over here.

The coat. It’s like a cape. Only way cooler.

The buttons which deserve their own award™. We all know the story behind the coat™, but I’m not aware of the official one explaining why Sherlock couldn’t buy the purple shirt of sex™ in a bigger size (lucky us he didn’t). On a sidenote: too small dress sizes and strained buttons are exactly what actresses are expected to wear in front of the camera.

The white sheet of possibilities. Sherlock Holmes visits Buckingham palace wearing nothing but a sheet BECAUSE THE SCRIPT SAYS SO and I can’t be the only one feeling reminded of the long standing tradition of women having to take off their clothes for very important plot reasons™. Two series later, Moffat does it again, and while IMHO Sherlock should have kept his hospital gown on in His Last Vow, I’m aware that is a pretty problematic™ thing to say given how it belongs to the most beloved (i.e. gifed and photoshopped) bits of that episode. (While at the same time, apart from Irene Adler, we have no idea what the Sherlock ladies wear underneath).

The cheekbones. Oh. The. Cheekbones. It is shocking exactly no one that Carrie Fisher was asked to lose weight every time she played Princess Leia (yes, also that one). Benedict Cumberbatch lost weight for series 2, then went to play the villain in Star Trek: Into Darkness, came back to series 3 having to lose those muscles and some weight - which goes against the *typical* male beauty standards in the industry, just saying. (NB: I’m pretty sure he did it again for TAB and series 4, but series 2 and series 3 are the only instances I’m aware of him mentioning it).

The weapons of a woman. When was the last time the male hero was allowed to lose? James Bond gets the girl because he is the best agent out there. It’s always the best knight who slays the dragon and saves the princess. I agree today personality matters - but that just means that now he needs to slay the dragon AND be charismatic on the top of it.

Heroes aren’t damsels in distress, they don’t get favours because of their looks and smiles, they don’t rely on other people or need emotional support. They are lone wolves, strong and self-efficient in every possible sense of the word and they have more than just their muscles to show for it.

Not in Sherlock.

Odds (*literally odds*) are Sherlock wouldn’t have survived the first episode without John.

Here we have someone who manipulates Molly (and clients alike) using his charm to get what he wants. Sherlock relies on his social network all the time, his adventures are about showing us how being the Cleverest™, the Best™ does not equal success.

He gets saved, beaten and drugged by Irene Adler, and just in case we’d still have some illusions left, the script for that scene describes the leading male character with the words ‘weak as a kitten’. I leave you to draw your own conclusions.

In the same episode he wins a fight because of pepper spray.

He relies on his brother’s help to beat Moriarty. He shoots Magnussen because even Mycroft’s long arm doesn’t end up being long enough. The only reason he makes it out of that mess alive is his freaking sister he isn’t even aware of.

The point is. Sherlock is right when he points out the obvious: he is no hero, but a mess who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high. Yes, he is phenomenally good at what he does. But he also needs an assistant, someone who takes some part of the responsibilities off his not-so-bulky shoulders and helps him to win those victories.

The fairytale of the high-functioning sociopath. For some baffling reason, sometime between now and the dark middle ages humankind decided that European culture only ever allows men to seek companionship when somehow sex (or bragging about sex) is involved.

This is why “being friendzoned” is the worst that can happen to the modern man™. This is why they honestly don’t get the concept of just friends™. To a good deal of them female friends are like unicorns in that they don’t exist. To them the age old “if I’m not getting sex out of it then why should I bother?” argument works on both sides: “if you are not getting sex out of it then why should you care?”.

(Before you spam my inbox yes, I know Scrubs exists, I’m more than just familiar with House MD *laughs uncomfortably for ten years*. But. For every single piece of media that happens to get it right there are 10 AU remakes of Fifty Shades of Grey being published).

Now. What on Earth does this have to do with Sherlock?

NOTHING.  We see Sherlock having more healthy relationships in every single episode (yes even that one) than Bond will have in a lifetime. And no matter how much Sherlock insists on being a sociopath, the hero in this story has friends, imperfect friends, and whether he likes it or not they do care about him. And he cares about them too.

Otherwise Mycroft wouldn’t need to tell his little brother that caring is not an advantage and Sherlock wouldn’t meet those words like an old friend.

On top of it, the writers never code Sherlock and John as gay. No, they don’t. To be fair, they also don’t say he’s straight. However, they do make him canonically fall for Irene Adler (FYI: if him going ALL THE WAY to Karachi for her sake wasn’t a big enough clue, then MP!Sherlock keeping a picture of her in his pocket watch should have been).

And while we do see Sherlock invested in plenty of typical male stuff (he fights, he wins, he plays the rude smart arse, the hero, the brilliant detective) at the same time he also accepts it when in TEH John decides he wants to keep his distance, and Sherlock leaves the matter in Mary’s capable hands, John’s love interest, the woman who should be traditionally the mortal enemy of male friendships.

We had a whole episode which was basically Sherlock helping Mary with wedding preparations and not (just) having a bad time.

The next episode has him do his best to save his friends’ marriage. It also has him fake a relationship with a woman (who ends up owning a cottage in Sussex that comes with bees). But he never takes advantage of her even though she wouldn’t mind being taken advantage of. And when she gets her well deserved revenge he admires her for her agency. That boy is so smitten by Janine Hawkins that the original shooting script for His Last Vow  had them agreeing to marry each other should they end up without anyone else by the time they are old end grey (page 72, you’re welcome).

Sherlock gets his support system and it doesn’t ask for anything in return. He is allowed to struggle, to become emotional, to not deserve his victories and still be the hero of the show. Those 13 episodes have Sherlock stumble from one failure to the next but every single time we learn it doesn’t matter. He gets to learn from his mistakes, he gets to grow.

Yes, he has his ghosts and demons but he never needs to face them on his own, which is something I’ve only ever seen on this stupid show

_____ * If anyone wants to point out the masterpiece that’s George from the Jungle then yes, I’m aware of it (also, surprise surprise another film that was pretty popular with the LGBTQ+ folks). However, generally speaking it never became mainstream. Which is what I’m talking about here. And while Marvel’s Loki is mainstream, he is not the main character in The Avengers.