#my darling ted

[average-hyperfixator]

The way I would make out with that pathetic playboy twink malewife if I could.

I love pathetic fictional men, he is my exact type. He WHIMPERS WHAT DO YOU EXPECT OF ME,

Side note I also want to run him a warm bath, give him fresh pajamas, and then tuck him into bed with a lil forehead smooch. I’m wifeing him up REAL quick 🙏

[karemandohan1999]

🍉Free Free palestine 🍉

Hundreds of thousands march worldwide against Israeli bombardment of Gaza

Hundreds of thousands march worldwide against Israeli bombardment of Gaza

People around the world rally to support Gaza as continued Israeli bombing has killed nearly 50000 Palestinians.

Hundreds of thousands of demonstrators rallie in cities across Europe, the Middle East, the United States and Asia on Saturday to show support for the Palestinians amid brutal Israeli military onslaught on the Gaza Strip.

Help help help 🇵🇸😭😭😭💔🙏💔🍉🍉

Hello, I hope you are well. I am Kariman Dohan from Gaza, Palestine, and I am writing to you with an aching heart. I am 24 years old. I was a teacher for children, and my husband, Ayman Olwan, is 30 years old and has a business administration degree. But the recent war stopped our lives completely. My husband used to work as a fisherman, but his boat was destroyed in the war, and he became unemployed. As for my son Hamoud, he is in dire need of food, clothes, and housing after our house was destroyed in the war. Our conditions are described as catastrophic, and we urgently need help.🥹🙏

I hope you can understand our plight and extend a helping hand to us in this difficult time. Our children are our future, and our only hope in this darkness. I am committed to doing everything in my power to rebuild our lives and give my children the decent life they deserve. I hope from the bottom of my heart that you will respond to my call and help us in these difficult times. Be with me, my dear friend, on this difficult journey, for you are the hope we rely on

Please consider our situation and help as much as you can by donating and sharing the link.💔🍉🥹😭😭😭😭

$8,392 USD raised of $50,000

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Fic: Roy & Jamie & and that time when Jamie was NOT in a car crash

With ten minutes left until training officially began and still no sign of Jamie, there were a few raised eyebrows and murmurs and Isaac telling Will to put the player down for a 100 quid fine, but no one thought to be worried. People ran late, sometimes. Not usually Jamie, no, but Colin figured there was a first time for everything. Besides, he was busy listening to Bumbercatch explain the intricacies of post-Brexit labour shortages and the way it served to reproduce notions of capitalist realism, none of which Colin understood, but Bumbercatch was at his fittest when he was passionate and mysterious so Colin hung on to his every word all the same.

When Roy stepped into the dressing room a little while later and noticed the distinct lack of number 9 and rang Jamie to demand where the hell he was only to receive no answer, a slight sense of unease settled over the room, though Colin suspected that had more to to with the sinister look on Coach’s face rather than any real fear that Jamie might be in danger (at least not until he showed up and had to deal with Coach anyway).

And then they heard about the car crash.

---

It was Sam who – always eager to play peacemaker, bless him – checked his phone to see if Jamie had left any messages in the group chat to explain his absence, and Sam who went very quiet and stared at his screen in silence for so long that everyone else fell silent too and turned to stare at him. Never a good sign, that sort of silence in the dressing room.

“Yo, bruv, he write something?” Isaac asked when it became apparent that Sam was not going to volunteer whatever information he had found.

“No, nothing,” Sam said. “But… “

“But fucking what?” Roy demanded, words sharp and jagged like broken glass.

“There’s been a car crash,” Sam’s voice was quiet and slow and reluctant. “A big one, not far from Jamie’s house. At least two people are dead, and several injured. It doesn’t say anything about Jamie,” he quickly added into the collective intake of horrified breath. “I’m sure he’s perfectly fine.”

“Yeah,” Thierry agreed quickly. “He probably just got delayed because it caused a traffic jam or something.”

Eager nods around room, and Colin found himself nodding along because of course that was the most reasonable explanation, of course Jamie hadn’t— he wasn’t—

“But then why didn’t he pick up his phone?” Bumbercatch asked. “Or call to say he’d be late?”

A relevant question, and as with most of Moe’s questions, without a ready answer.

“We would have heard, wouldn’t we?” Nate suggested uneasily. “I mean, they would have called, if— “

He didn’t finish the sentence. No one else spoke.

Trying to distract himself from the quickly growing pit in his stomach, Colin turned his gaze on Roy, who had gone so still that he didn’t even seem to be breathing. His face was a blank mask, utterly devoid of any emotion, but his fists were clenched so tight that Colin’s own hands twinged in sympathy.

“I’ll go talk to Higgins,” Beard said abruptly, breaking the fraught silence.

“Yeah, no, that’s a great idea,” Nate quickly chimed in. Like Colin, he’d been eyeing Roy nervously. “He’ll know what—“

The door slammed open. Jamie rushed inside. “Sorry, sorry I’m late,” he called as he dumped his bag on the bench by his cubby and started pulling his vest off, “been this massive car accident, was stuck for ages and then the road was closed off so I had to go round and— Eh?“

Cockburn, by virtue of being closest, had pulled Jamie into a tight hug, and the rest of the players immediately closed in to follow suit, Colin among them. In his relief he wasn’t sure whether to kiss Jamie or smack him on the head for worrying them, and in the end he settled for briefly squeezing his neck. Jamie grinned at him, at all of them, looking a little bemused but very much delighted by the attention.

“Fucking hell, lads,” he laughed. “Thought I’d be getting a fine, not a fucking group hug. Realized how dull training would be without me, huh?”

“You are getting a fine,” Isaac told him, even as he put his arm around Jamie’s shoulder and shook him gently. “But we’re fucking happy you’re here, yeah?”

“We thought you had died in the car crash,” Jan explained.

“Sí, amigo, we were so worried for you!”

“Oh! Yeah, no, I’m fine, I’m fine. Not fucking Colin, am I? I don’t get into any car crashes.” He caught Colin’s eye and winked, sticking his tongue out like the utter tosser he was and Colin rolled his eyes and was so, so stupidly happy the idiot was there to be annoying.

Eventually, after everyone had gotten to hug Jamie or pat him on the back or ruffle his hair (to his loud but clearly half-hearted protests), the team drifted back to their own cubbies, happily chatting amongst themselves—

— leaving Roy standing on the middle of the floor, staring at Jamie with a look on his face that had Colin take an involuntary step backwards. Their gaffer did not look relieved. In fact, he looked absolutely murderous.

“Why the fuck,” he intoned, emphasizing each word, “did you not fucking call to say you were fucking late? And why the fuck did you not answer your fucking phone?”

The tone of voice would have had anyone with even an ounce of self-preservation running for cover if directed at them, but Jamie just blinked. “Oh, er, left it at home, didn’t I? Already had it in me black bag, right, only I realized the tan one went better with this outfit so I grabbed that instead, but I forgot about the phone ‘cause I was in a bit of a rush, yeah?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “It was stupid. Sorry about that.”

“Oh, you’re sorry about that, are you? Do you have any fucking idea—“ Taking a step closer, getting right up into Jamie’s face, Roy launched into a dressing-down of such volume and viciousness Colin was convinced it had the walls vibrating. Even by Roy Kent’s considerable standards, it was a lot and it lasted for well over a minute until Roy growled, “If you’re not out on the pitch running laps in two minutes you won’t have to worry about getting into any car crashes going home ‘cause you’ll be here all night, running ‘til you fucking drop in your own puke, got it?”

Initially, Jamie had seemed slightly taken aback by Roy’s furious remonstration, but then something that looked strangely like understanding passed over his face and he settled into a determined stoicism, neither talking back nor looking cowed. By the end of it, though, there was definitively barely suppressed anger glinting in his gray eyes, leaving Colin worried he might snap and then they’d have a full-on brawl on their hands, just like back in the bad old days when Roy and Jamie well and truly hated each others’ guts and wouldn’t that be exactly the sort of fun they all wanted on a Tuesday?

He gave a sigh of relief (and could hear Richard do the same just next to him) when Jamie just offered a curt, “yes, Coach,” and set to getting changed at an appropriately hurried speed.

“And fucking apologize to your teammates for delaying training!” Roy barked.

“We’d be out there already if you hadn’t spent the last hour shouting at me,” Jamie muttered to the boot he was tying.

“The fuck did you say?”

“Nothing, Coach. Sorry, everyone.” He looked up. “Really am,” he added, sounding quite sincere about it. “Didn’t mean to hold you up or, you know, worry you or nothing.”

---

Training was an awkward and quietly tense affair. Once Jamie had finished his laps and was allowed to join the rest of them, Roy pointedly and resolutely ignored him, refusing to so much as spare him a glance while the team muddled through the day’s exercises and scrimmage.

Jamie, for his part, seemed utterly determined not to give a shit. He went through the drills as diligently as ever, dribbled and passed and shot with his usual flair, shouting encouragements and slapping Colin’s butt after a particularly good free kick. For all intents and purposes, it was just another day at the job for Jamie Tartt – but Colin saw the looks he kept shooting Roy when he thought no one was watching, and he noticed how Jamie didn’t just play well but played brilliantly, stubbornly lining up one little footie miracle after another on the pitch. He wasn’t being a prick about it either, prompting Colin to mutter to Isaac: “Looks like Jamie’s trying to get back on Roy’s good side by going for player of the year.”

Isaac glanced over at Jamie, then shook his head in dismissal. “Nah, bruv,” he said. “He ain’t trying to appease the gaffer. Sticking it to him, innit.”

“Oh. Okay.” Colin frowned. That… didn’t make a lot of sense, really, but Isaac usually knew what he was talking about, and it wasn’t like Colin begrudged Jamie a little bit of pushback, not after the way Roy had chewed him out in front of everyone. It was just that, if this escalated and the two of them got into it properly, the way they used to back when Roy was still the captain rather than the coach… Well. It’d be a shit time for everyone. Colin could do without it. They could all do without it.

Not that that sort of consideration had ever stopped either Roy or Jamie before.

On the other side of the pitch, Jamie threw himself down in a bicycle kick that saw the ball soar right past two defender’s and Thierry’s outstretched hands.

“Whistle,” Roy snapped. “Training’s fucking over.”

---

“Oi! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Colin, with Dani, Jeff and Jamie in tow, had almost made it out of the dressing room, freshly showered and changed and very ready to put the training session behind them, when Roy’s bark brought them to abrupt heel. Dani stopped so suddenly that Jeff almost walked straight into him, and Colin himself accidentally elbowed Jamie when he startled at the sudden roar.

You’d think they’d be more than used to Roy’s yelling by now, Colin thought. Then again, he supposed it’d been a strange day and they were all a little on edge. Jumpy.

“We’re going to my place, Coach,” he quickly offered, hoping to stave off another round of shouting. “To play some FIFA.” He briefly considered inviting Roy to join them, it would only be polite, right, and could be good for morale maybe, but he was held back by the notion that the gaffer might say yes.

“Tartt isn’t,” Roy informed him curtly.

Jamie cocked his head to the side. “I’m not?” Definitively a hint of challenge in his tone, and Jesus, this was all going to go straight to hell, wasn’t it? And after they’d almost made it out of here, too.

Roy was unmoved; unyielding as stone. “No, you’re coming with me so I can keep an eye on you since you’re too much of a fucking child to be trusted on your own.”

For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other, both faces shadowed by stubborn scowls. Colin realized he was holding his breath, and glanced over at Isaac getting ready for dinner with his parents in front of the mirror to check if he, as captain, was maybe planning to step in and deescalate the situation. How he was going to do that Colin had no idea; he wasn’t the captain.

Isaac said nothing, though, just watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. Figures, Colin thought a little sourly; his friend was utter shit at keeping secrets but could pull inscrutable like nobody’s business when it suited him.

“Fine.” In the end, Jamie relented with an exaggerated sigh. “But I’m taking me own car, which I have, what with me not actually being in a car crash today and all.”

Roy looked furious at that, as if Jamie’s lack of fiery death in a burning inferno was somehow a personal insult to him, but then he pressed his lips together and jerked his head in a sharp t nod. “Fine.”

He spun around and stalked away, leaving Jamie rolling his eyes and muttering Jesus fucking Christ you overdramatic grumpy fuck under his breath. Then he turned to the rest of them and shrugged. “Sorry, lads. Another time, yeah?”

Dani made a small, unhappy sound. Colin exchanged a look with Jeff, who looked about as unsure and uncomfortable as Colin felt. Over on the other side of the room, Isaac was still quiet, potentially a sign to the others to keep out of it as well, but in spite of that Colin found himself compelled to ask: “Boyo, do you want us to… talk to Coach?”

It was a mildly terrifying idea, and it very much went against the unspoken agreement that nobody interfere with the continued absurdity that was Roy and Jamie’s relationship these days. But, today had been weird in a way that seemed to have little enough to do with training, extracurricular or otherwise. A particular kind of weird, even for these two. Besides, his whole idea of an impromptu game night had been, at least in part, a bid to cheer Jamie up after all that, and it seemed a shame that he’d miss it for more of the same.

Jamie, however, waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, mate, it’s fine.”

He looked like he meant it, too. There was a frown on his face, sure, but as far as Colin could tell it spoke more of mild annoyance than actual upset or worry.

“But forgetting your phone was a simple mistake, and it is not your fault you were late. It’s not right that Coach should keep punishing you for it.” Sam, who had declined FIFA in favour of being a responsible restaurant owner (“and bad fucking flirt, it’s been almost a year mate, why haven’t you asked her out yet?”), had walked over from his locker and was eyeing Jamie with customarily earnest concern.

Jamie just shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, and off their worried stares added, “He’s not going to do anything bad or anything. It’s just, I fucking scared him, right, and he’s being a twat about it ‘cause he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to have feelings properly and he’s only been in therapy for like three months and it’ll probably take a year for anything Dr. Sharon says to go through his big stupid head, yeah? That’s all.”

Which. Okay. Colin could see how the prospect of Jamie actually dying might scare even Roy, but on the other hand… it was Roy. Roy Kent. And besides—

“I don’t know, man, he didn’t seem scared,” Jeff ventured.

“No, amigo, he seemed like he wanted to rip your head off,” Dani helpfully filled in. “And maybe use it as a football.”

“Yeah, because he’s a twat,” Jamie said. “But it’ll be fine, I promise. Probably just wants to make me dinner or something.”

Colin blinked. That… was a leap. Even by Jamie’s particular kind of logic, that was definitively a leap.

“He’s right.” Oh, so now Isaac decided to speak up. “Roy’s not mad at Jamie, he’s mad because he was frightened.”

Jamie raised his eyebrows meaningfully and pointed at their captain. “Yeah, that. So don’t worry.” Adjusting his cap he shot Colin a cheeky wink. “Whoever plays me better score a fuckton of goals tonight, yeah? See you tomorrow, lads.”

And he was out the door, fucking humming as he went. Doing that Jamie Tartt thing of untouchable and unshakeable confidence and you think you can get to me? Nothing ever gets to me and even now that Colin knew Jamie wasn’t quite as invulnerable as all that, some of the old awe and jealousy stirred, mixed with concerned incredulity.

“Is it just me,” he asked after a protracted moment, “or are those two getting even weirder?”

“It’s not just you,” Jeff muttered.

“Don’t worry, my friend,” Dani promised brightly, “I will play Richmond tonight and score a fuckton of goals and I will crush you for the sake of our amigo Jamie.”

Colin sighed. “Fantastic.”

At least he’d have the comfort of knowing that getting trashed by Dani Rojas was still far, far better than whatever cruel and unusual punishment Roy had planned for Jamie.

---

Jamie leaned back against Roy’s surprisingly comfortable couch and let out a small sigh of contentment. He wondered whether he ought to be still annoyed with Roy for being a massive wanker or pleased with himself for how utterly he’d called this. He settled for alternating between the two; he was complex like that. People didn’t know it, but he had depths.

Roy hadn’t tried to make him run a marathon or do a million burpees or whatever Colin and the rest had imagined. He hadn’t yelled. Hadn’t said much at all, really, since Jamie stepped through the front door without knocking; mostly he’d glared and grunted and used those funny little head jerks to communicate that Jamie should sit down and be quiet and drink the water Roy put in front of him.

Jamie had sat down and drunk the water. He had not been quiet. He’d watched the Spurs game on the telly last night and he had opinions relevant to their upcoming match against them, which by rights should interest the gaffer and if it didn’t, too fucking bad.

Roy hadn’t told him to shut up.

Instead, he’d made them dinner (fucking called it), a nutritionist approved salmon pasta with saffron and fennel that Jamie was particularly fond of, and then sent Jamie off to the couch while he did the washing up. He hadn’t said a word about Jamie’s choice of entertainment either, when he appeared a little while later with two steaming cups of tea and found the telly turned on to an old episode of Doctor Who. The show had been a staple of Jamie’s early teens and remained a nostalgic comfort; just a bit of silly fun, really, and so naturally something Roy fucking loathed, sad old fuck that he was.

Normally even the suggestion of watching it (or anything else even halfway interesting) would have been met with foul-mouthed refusal and something about Roy’s house, Roy’s rules, but tonight Roy just put the tea down wordlessly and sat down next to Jamie, as on the screen Martha, Jack and the Tenth Doctor (fittest of them all, although Jamie had a soft spot for Eleven) narrowly escaped an exploding flat.

Jamie smiled to himself. For all Roy was utter shit at saying stuff, he could be fucking transparent at times.

It had been dead obvious when Roy’s anger finally and fully faded, and guilt started trickling in to fill the void. It was right there in the way Roy went all the way quiet and started shooting him little looks out of the corner of his eye when he thought Jamie wouldn’t notice throughout dinner; there in the way he sat down far closer to Jamie than he normally would on the couch now, their legs all but touching.

It was as blatant an invitation as you could ever expect from Roy Kent, and tempting, but Jamie stubbornly held himself to himself, upright and with his arms crossed over his chest. Roy had been a right proper arsehole today and he hadn’t even said sorry so if he wanted a cuddle he could fucking ask for one, or he could wait until Jamie felt inclined to indulge him.

Eventually, though, after what Jamie deemed an appropriate amount of time (which may or may not have amounted to two whole minutes), he relented and allowed himself to lean against Roy, casual like, and tipping his head to rest Roy’s shoulder.

He smirked at how Roy not only failed to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing but also was very quick to put a tentative arm around his shoulders, the grip growing firmer when Jamie didn’t shrug him off or ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing.

For a while there was only that; the warmth of Roy’s body pressed into his; the sounds of the television. I love it when you say my name, the Master declared.

“I’m sorry about today,” Roy said suddenly. The words came haltingly, reluctantly. Still, he pressed on. “I … fucking overreacted.”

Jamie snorted. “Little bit, yeah.” Then he added, not bothering to conceal his smugness, “All the lads think you were dead mean to me.”

He glanced up at Roy who was determinedly staring at the telly while his eyebrows were doing something complicated and seemingly painful. “I think that… maybe… I got a bit… fucking worried, when we thought you’d been in that car crash.”

He offered like it was some great admission, a grand fucking reveal, and Jamie rolled his eyes. “Uh, yeah, mate, I know.”

Roy’s eyes snapped to his face at that, all disbelieving like, so Jamie rolled his eyes again, even harder. “Come on, man. Pretty obvious, that.”

For a long moment, Roy didn’t respond. He looked away from Jamie again. Then finally, “It wasn’t obvious to me.”

And the thing was, Roy sounded so fucking unhappy about it that Jamie clamped his mouth shut around a reflexive no, but you’re an idiot.

“Maybe something for Dr. Sharon, yeah,” he suggested instead, noting with some satisfaction that he was being really mature about all of this.

He’d have liked pointing that out to Roy, too, but had a feeling that maybe that would take away from the maturity a little. He’d mention it to Keeley later instead.

“Yeah,” Roy said after a moment of looking like he’d rather let Isaac kick a football straight at his head. “I’ll talk to her.”

“And maybe fucking apologize to my teammates for delaying training,” Jamie added innocently, feeling a smirk tug at his lips and then blossom into a full-fledged grin when Roy pulled back a little to stare at him, seemingly trying to gauge whether he was serious or not.

“You’re a prick,” Roy said eventually, relaxing again and sounding right fond about it.

“Mmmhm,” Jamie agreed happily, pulling his feet up on the couch and curling up closer to Roy. It was nice, this. Worth all that, maybe. “And here you are, fucking glad I’m not dead and all.”

Roy sighed. His arm around Jamie’s shoulder was warm and solid.

“Yeah,” he said, quietly enough that they might both pretend it wasn’t meant for Jamie’s ears at all. “I am.” 

[thatisntverycombefair]

wake up babe it's time to listen to the 2004 album shake the sheets by ted Leo and the pharmacists and think about the Les amis

[mental-about-you-too]

Why I believe the Will Darling Adventures were originally conceived as johnlock fanfiction

I will die on this hill.

The Will Darling Adventures (Slippery Creatures, Sugared Game, Subtle Blood) by KJ Charles are my favorite guilty pleasure comfort books. I have listened to the audiobooks an embarrassing number of times. I can play exchanges of dialogue in my head from memory, reader’s inflections and all. If you haven’t read them and you like a mix of adventure and gay smut (plus it’s a trilogy so there’s time for more complex characterization and more gradual relationship development than you usually get in books of the genre), then absolutely go do that, and don’t read below—because here be spoilers. Also, because the books are a delight.

So. Grand theory.

To be clear: I am not knocking these books AT ALL (if I’m honest, the Holmesian flavor is part of why I like them so much). As in many really good works of fanfiction, the characters have ceased to be mere copies, and have gained their own original and internally consistent characterization. Kim and Will are not Holmes and Watson, but I am completely convinced that the latter were the inspiration for the former. Here are some of the parallels/moments of homage:

Watson => Will

Returned to England from war with nowhere to go; ended up in London: “I had neither kith nor kin in England, and […] naturally gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained.” (Study in Scarlet) => “…his mother had died from the Spanish ‘flu while he’d waited to be demobbed […] So, like everyone else, he’d come to London…” (Slippery Creatures)

Ran out of money as a recently-discharged veteran: “So alarming did the state of my finances become…” (Study in Scarlet) => “…his slide into poverty was unstoppable...” (Slippery Creatures)

War wound that nearly killed him: “For months my life was despaired of...” (Study in Scarlet) => “A month in hospital.” (Sugared Game)

Saved by an underling who never appears in the story: “…had it not been for the devotion and courage shown by Murray, my orderly, who threw me across a pack-horse and succeeded in bringing me safely to the British lines.” (Study in Scarlet) => “If it hadn’t been for the bravest stretcher-bearer in Flanders, I’d have died out there.” (Sugared Game)

Retained his favorite weapon from the war: “I have my old service revolver and a few cartridges.” (Study in Scarlet) => “…the Messer, his old trench knife...” (Sugared Game)

Is asked to bring the weapon on adventures: “Put your pistol in your pocket.” (Study in Scarlet) => “Got your knife?” (Sugared Game)

POV character

Holmes => Kim

Has a bunch of names but goes by a middle one: William Sherlock Scott Holmes => Arthur Aloysius Kimberley de Brabazon Secretan

Has pretty hands, which are something of a fixation for the POV character

Doesn’t eat much: “My friend had no breakfast himself, for it was one of his peculiarities that in his more intense moments he would permit himself no food…” (Norwood Builder) => “They ate breakfast, or at least Will did, while Kim chewed a single slice of toast with distaste.” (Subtle Blood)

Withholds information because he doesn’t trust his partner’s ability to deceive: “You won’t be offended, Watson? You will realize that among your many talents dissimulation finds no place.” (Dying Detective) => “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but subterfuge isn’t your strong suit.” (Sugared Game)

Withholds information for dramatic effect: “It was too bad to spring it on you like this, but Watson here will tell you that I never can resist a touch of the dramatic.” (Naval Treaty) => “Of course Kim would turn up after two months with some bizarre story; of course he wouldn’t tell it like a normal person.” (Sugared Game)

Plays fast and loose with legality: “Doctor, I shall want your cooperation.” “I shall be delighted.” “You don’t mind breaking the law?” “Not in the least.” (Scandal in Bohemia) => “I am absolutely not empowered to break the laws of the land, so I try not to get caught at it.”

Has a brother seven years his senior, whom we meet (several adventures in) at a gentlemen’s club in Pall Mall, and who looks like him but bigger: “Mycroft Holmes was a much larger and stouter man than Sherlock.” (Greek Interpreter) => “He looked like someone had drawn a caricature of Kim as John Bull and not been kind about it. He was significantly bulkier…”

The club (The Diogenes => The Symposium) has a Strangers' Room, and in at least part of the club: "no talking is, under any circumstances, allowed" (Greek Interpreter) => "speech is strictly forbidden" (Subtle Blood)

Chases down the leader of a mysterious criminal organization who appears respectable in normal society, and who stays one step removed to leave no evidence of his involvement: “But the Professor was fenced round with safeguards so cunningly devised that, do what I would, it seemed impossible to get evidence which would convict in a court of law.” (Final Problem) => “[Arrest him] on what grounds? I’ve got a lot of nothing. Straws in the wind, and fears, and the words of the dead. The case needs to be iron-clad, and mine is wet tissue paper.” (Sugared Game)

Has a chat with this adversary before the action kicks off: “…I was seriously inconvenienced by you” (Final Problem) => “It has caused me enormous inconvenience” (Sugared Game)

Better at hand-to-hand combat than he looks like he should be: “I have some knowledge, however, of baritsu, or the Japanese system of wrestling…” (Empty House) => “Where did you learn knife fighting?” (Slippery Creatures)

Lounges around in a purple dressing gown (Blue Carbuncle; all three Will Darling books)

Tall, slender, pale, and dark-haired, with remarkable eyes (at least, the POV character sure remarks on them a lot)

Other parallels:

Inspector Lestrade (“lean and ferret-like as ever”) => Inspector Rennick (“He was a short, shrewd-looking man who sounded North London.”)

An aortic aneurism renders prosecution of a criminal moot: Jefferson Hope (Study in Scarlet) => Lord Waring (Sugared Game)

Will’s expectations upon meeting Waring line up with a description of Moriarty: “His face protrudes forward, and is forever slowly oscillating from side to side in a curiously reptilian fashion” (Final Problem) => “[Will] wasn’t sure what he expected. Something snakey, some reptilian air of cruelty…” (Sugared Game)

This rather iconic phrase: “He sits motionless, like a spider at the center of its web...” (Final Problem) => “…sits like a spider at the centre of a web of obligations...” (Sugared Game)

Alongside the parallels, Charles adds elements often found in the best works of fanfiction: in addition to the on-page romance, there's expansion of the characters' backgrounds, including an exploration of class and privilege, plus a fix-it-esque resolution of the issue of Holmes'/Kim’s dishonesty (I for one always wished Watson would confront Holmes about lying to him for cases).

There. Cataloguing all the parallels was taking up a ridiculous amount of space in my brain, so now you know & I can stop obsessing over it so much.

[auburngods]

american teenager

another OC time with my final boy Rick !! yeah he's based on Pac-Man from Shocker. I like Ted in nerdy glasses and late 80s attire.

Rick is the main character from my original story Die, Die, Darling, an 80s queer slasher and he serves as the final boy - hence the heavy usage of light blue, highlighting his innocence.

He's shy, nerdy, awkward and considered a freak along with his brother and friend group. Treasurer of Forsyth High School AV Club. Loves D&D, videogames, horror movies, swimming, riding his bike and REO Speedwagon.

During summer, he starts a secret relationship with golden boy Bryce Hawthorne, quarterback of the Hornets, the local football team, and former jock bully (shut up, he can fix him). It's Bryce who lands him an occupation as the new Hornets' equipment manager.

[second-hand-heaven]

okay okay okay I love all the ideas around trent supporting colin in gay solidarity don't get me wrong

but can we please remember that keeley fucking jones is literally right there

[pineappical]

HELP I THOUGHT THAT WAS LESLIE HIGGINS FROM WHEN REBECCA FIRED HIM AND HE HAD FACIAL HAIR😭 I have permanent lasso-goggles this is the 3rd time I’ve seen someone’s art and mentally attributed it to a Ted Lasso character when it wasn’t AGGHHH. They don’t even have to look similar at this point, my brain will make the leap and attribute every piece of art to Ted Lasso in some way and it’s getting to be a problem 🥲

welcome to nelson road, dr. darling

[girl4music]

I can’t believe I actually have Gabrielle and Joxer videos in my collection. But it’s probably because they all make it clear it’s unrequited love between them. Which - I mean - a story arc like that is still important to show and still one of value to watch. And they’re really well done videos anyway. So don’t judge 😝

[ghcstpyre]

I'm dying to know about the Untitled Document! :))))))))))))))) ❤

-Julia

this has been haunting me every time I open google docs. evil ted, my love, I'll get back to you one day

---

“You're so - god - you're so stupid sometimes!”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?!”

Your boots ceased their stomping on the winding dirt trail as you spun around to face Ted, nostrils flared and eyes flashing with anger.

For the umpteenth time, Ted had whisked you away in his time travelling phone box with the intention of taking you on a date, only to put his foot in his mouth with one of the locals, or let his fingers get a bit too sticky around the pockets of others, or cause any sort of mischief that ended up getting both of you in trouble. And, as always, the two of you had to end your date early and flee the scene.

It was funny at first. In fact, the thrill seeker in you found it exhilarating; causing mischief throughout time with your boyfriend while going on all sorts of adventures. But you wanted to actually go on a proper date now and again, not that Ted seemed to get that.

You fixed him with a glare. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Ted threw his arms wide open in disbelief. “That dude was a total dickweed! He was basically begging for my fist in his face.”

“Yeah, one guy. You started a whole fucking tavern brawl!”

Pride sparkled in his chocolate brown gaze, and that signature shit-eating grin spread across his face. He was very clearly proud of the chaos he'd managed to cause in the local tavern after one of the guests decided to get a little too friendly with you for his liking.

You were just a bit of fun to make his time away from home in the future go quicker, but you were his bit of fun. He'd sooner kiss his good human self before he let anyone else get their hands on you.

With a scoff and a roll of your eyes, you turned back around and continued stomping your way towards the phone booth, away from the din of the tavern you'd managed to slip away from while the brawl still surged on inside. Ted, stubborn as ever, simply rolled his eyes and let out a huff before reluctantly following you.

“Oh c’mon babe, don’t be like that. You’re being a total buzzkill right now.”

You grabbed the handle to the phone booth and slid the folding door open with a little more force than necessary, causing the hinges to squeak in protest as the shiny metal door frames knocked against one another with a sharp CLANG!

[aliquickly]

LAW

[fuzzynightmarecolor]

[thinkofanythingsblog]

Photo...cats❤️

[an-honest-puck]

me, listening to the Ted Lasso soundtrack: wow this piece of music sounds so inspiring. I wonder what it's called?

the song in question: *Colin's Journey*

me, getting emotional because I adore Colin and highkey relate to him: nice :')

[lovesickeros]

Darling: you hate me, it's written all over your face

Reader's resting b*tch face: what?

darling says it just to annoy you lbr. bc no matter how bad your resting bitch face is, the tsaritsa's is worse. darling has had years to learn how to discern the tsaritsa's mood when shes as reactive as a statue.

[samueloxd08]

paw patrol metal slug y 00-p2