#oh my gods the gotchas mean NOTHING to people with gross politics

[w04hxo]

.

[originemesis]

hc musings - character dive ; //

Judging from season 1, I think it's safe to assume Adam does not like be without his helmet/mask. Sure, he's dressed up for his meetings/in court/for the final battle, which is just about everywhere he pops up in the season. However, he's also briefly shown just hanging out with Lute in heaven and he's still in uniform while she isn't. This is likely their down time, and yet he's still lugging around his massive robes, fully decked out for battle like it could happen anytime when clearly they're in heaven and it can't. So why is this?

Well, when the mask actually comes off (it's forced off and smashed apart just to get to that point), Adam is just 'some dude' under the menacing, manic act he's been putting on the whole time. An act as in when he crawls out of the hole without his safeguard face, he literally just has a melt down in front of everyone where his previous 'cunty charm' and 'idgaf' attitude are gone in place of some caught on the spot, seething human looking dirt bag who's only 'gotcha' is to call the group that's put an end to his reign of terror 'losers'. Just losers (baby ~). If he's not insecure with what he is under that mask (and how could he not be when not one, but two people who were literally created to be his perfect match dumped his ass? Oof.), then he absolutely has an inferiority complex of sorts and its in his 'break-down' moment on screen where it's on full display without the glowing grin and the horns.

To scratch further at that thought- imagine how Adam, the first human/man was essentially created in God's image. He was created to be perfect by heaven's definition, and though he didn't stay that way, he got a taste for what that felt like. Literally anything he does after that point when Eve and him have to leave Eden is (unironically) 'mid' or worse.

HC wise (out of my own musings so don't mind the canon divergence here since s2 is likely uhh...twitterjokes2027-) I'm leaning into the idea that the first two human souls are weighty in the sense that they can't both be in the same after life or it'll upset whatever balance there is between heaven and hell. So at the time of their deaths, it was decided that heaven wanted Adam and so hell would have Eve by default (also she was the one they blamed most- typical fandoms @ female characters amiriteeee). This means Adam who knows he's not perfect anymore, hasn't felt so in a long time- goes to a plane of existence that exudes perfection. They have 'the brightest, the polite-est of the lot and everyone is hot'. And then there he is- just some dude who is none of those things (hates math, innately rude, and well...'just some guy' isn't exactly heaven-scale hot guyyys).

This cumulation of always realizing nothing he does is good enough (because he knows this) and yet being treated like it is because he just happened to be first leads Adam to a state that even Lucifer comments on in their battle in the form of 'oh haha, you really let yourself go-'. Which I take to mean in the sense Adam is up in heaven, holding zoom-style holographic meetings while he probably barely even leaves his room (and never without his gear on), neglecting the 'womanly' deemed things like cooking and taking care of himself, gaining struggle weight for it all, and worst of all...he's in heaven and he's essentially in a depressed state (that let's be real he'd say doesn't exist like the dwightyouignorantslut he is) and that is plastered all over his real face in the form of baggy under eyes and that gross chin stubble he got going on too. And since heaven is full of happy, not depressed- never have a hard day, and HOT people, he essentially stays covered 24/7 in public because people would definitely question why he's there and heaven really doesn't need more people questioning decisions that'll create more Lucifers.

While wearing the mask he's like a kid that won't take his Halloween costume off because it makes him feel cool, and he does get a lot more animated and forgetful of his true insides. He's almost like a school mascot in a way, using his 'angelsona' to amplify his attention-grabbing antics. Take it away and he's very likely much more identical to Lucifer in terms of the whole 'take THAT, depression!' bit. Except for Adam that just translates to him being far less animated, grumpy, electric-guitar to acoustic pipeline, passively aggressive and likely tired, being the source of all humanity and all (man needs to be sucking down that G-fuel hourly).

Additionally: Angeldust and Adam would have the same theme of 'putting on an act' (or in Adam's case- putting on a show) and not letting the real person behind the façade show through. (Though in Angel's case it's for his own protection. In Adam's case it's because man can't cope with his insecurity.) And how Husk sees through Angel's bullshit, Lute does the same with Adam.

Adam's helmet glitched out the same way that Vox's did, so it could very well be a hint that Vox and Adam may have something to do with antagonism in the next season. If Adam came back w/o his mask and this all was applicable ofc, he would definitely team up with or make a deal with Vox in order to get him to fix the helmet (assuming he can based on the idea he might know how it works when put back together since his own tv face has been shown to glitch out like Adam's did) since it would be a necessary competent to bring back the actual 'Adam' he's become after living in discomfort with the one he became after experiencing real perfection.

[neerasrealm]

POV: Jeff the killer kidnapped you and is venting to you about his internalized homophobia

I COULDN’T THINK OF AN ACTUAL TITLE SO I WENT WITH THAT

Anyway hi this is a jeffxben fic told from jeff’s POV. a little bit angsty but mostly just cuddles and comfort. and one-liners. lots of one-liners. The ending is a lil messy and idk man I didn’t know how to finish the fic so- ignore that

Based on one of these story starters.

Word count: 1907

There are three things you need to know before you read this.

One; hi, I'm Jeff. Nice to meet ya.

Two; I killed my parents three and a half years ago. I know that's a lot to dump on you immediately but it'll be important later.

And three….I'm...gay. There. I said it. I like guys. I'm attracted to men. I want to kiss guys. Or specifically- one guy. 

He has blonde hair, dark skin and bright blue eyes. And also pointed ears. He's a ghost, specifically one that's latched onto a Nintendo 3DS and a cartridge of Majora's Mask 3D. He looks like Link- but I'm not attracted to Link. Link is a twink and that's not my style. 

His name is Ben and Ben? Ben is a bro. He's my bro. He's everyone's bro- he has that natural charisma that makes everyone like him. He's friendly, polite, funny and laid-back. He's always down to hang out with you or invite you into his room to play videogames. Everyone likes Ben. But me? I love Ben. As in- love love him. I want to kiss his goofy face. His lips probably taste like cheetos and beef jerky. Gross. I hate how much I think about how his lips would taste. 

So now you're probably thinking "hey Jeff, why are you just vomiting your gay thoughts on me? Go tell him you love him."

But There's A Problem.

My parents- the dead ones- were really homophobic. Being gay just wasn't something you did. And it still feels wrong to me- which is weird considering the fact that my new adoptive parents are two gay men and my foster siblings are mostly homosexuals. But it still feels wrong. No matter how much I'm exposed to it I still feel that slight guilt whenever I catch myself admiring Ben while he trash talks someone, and I want to punch myself whenever I wake up from a dream about cuddling him. 

So that brings me to this situation. 

Picture this, okay? I'm sitting on his bed with a controller in my hand. We're playing smash bros and having a great time. I'm having...not a good day. You remember the dead parents thing? The trauma I mentioned? Yeah that's been haunting me all fucking day and I'm not feeling good. At all. And of course I'm not gonna tell anybody about it, because that means I have to address the problem. And I never, ever, address problems. Ever. They'll fester in me till the day I die. Like maggots.

That's gross I apologise.

But- yeah. I'm not feeling good and I'm hiding this fact from Ben because he cheers me up way better when he doesn't know I'm sad. 

"Hah! Gotcha!" 

"Shit-!" I swear as my character (king k rool, in case you wondering) flies off the stage. Ben laughs and woops beside me in victory. I shoot him a glare.

"Man you suck at this game." He laughs.

"I don't suck." I spit back. "You're just really good."

"Suuure you are." The smug look he gives me makes me wanna punch him. My hand curls into a fist in my lap. I grunt at him in response. He laughs and nudges me. "Hey it's alright Jeffy," I hate that nickname with the burning passion of a thousand suns. "You'll learn how to play soon enough."

"Lay off, man." I mutter back. I drop the controller and he snickers.

"Aww c'mon don't tell me you're rage quitting on me."

"Shut up dude just-" I shoot him an agitated look. "Just shut your stupid mouth okay?"

His smile drops. "Hey, you okay man?" Shit. He sounds worried.

"I'm fine." I grunt back. He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. "Get off."

The hand withdraws. I hear him shift on the bed next to me. "Hey, dude-" he frowns. "Are you feeling alright today? Do you- need to talk or chill or…?"

I glare at Ben. He's being nothing but supportive and kind and what am I doing? Being an ass. "No I don't need to fucking chill." I growl at him. "I'm fine, alright? Just fine."

"Alright…" it's quiet for a bit while Ben turns off the game. Eventually he speaks again. "You wanna watch a movie or something? I'm tired so…"

This is a trick. He's tricking me into taking care of my mental health. Fuck you Ben, I'll be as mentally ill as I want. 

‘’I’m gonna go to my room.’’ I stand up and immediately get YANKED back onto the bed by my hood. Ben’s noodle arms wrap around my waist and hold me tight. ‘’Dude-!’’ this is getting a little tOO HOMO-EROTIC, BENNY BOY.

‘’Stay.’’ he murmurs. ‘’I wanna keep an eye on you.’’

‘’Why?’’ I snarl. ‘’Because I’m a stupid kid that can’t look after himself?! Huh?!’’

Ben flinches. ‘’Jeff-’’ he murmurs. ‘’It’s not that I don’t trust you it’s because I know that you need the company right now.’’ he frowns. ‘’Just- lemme keep an eye on you, alright…?’’

Fuck.

Fuck.

fuuuuUUUUUCK.

Why does he CARE SO MUCH. I HATE IT. I’m gonna slam my head into a wall. Gimme a minute.

…

Okay wall slamming accomplished. Back to my predicament. 

‘’Fine.’’ I grunt. He (unfortunately) lets go of me. It’s silent. And uncomfortable. I pick at my fingers. He tilts his head at me.

‘’So- anything you wanna do?’’

I wanna hug you and kiss you and tell you I love you please Ben I’m gay and homophobic at the same time. ‘’Not really.’’

Ben puts a hand on my shoulder and scoots closer. He rests his hand on my other shoulder and...oh god I can fucking smell his hair from here- that’s creepy. Why am I creepy. Actually don’t answer that one. He looks up at me, bright blue eyes shining with kindness. ‘’You wanna talk about it…?’’ he asks gently. Normally I wouldn’t talk about my problems. Ever. But Ben is giving me puppy dog eyes.

‘’...I’m just thinking about mom and dad.’’ I mumble. He nods. ‘’They- treated me like shit. And I keep thinking about the shit they’d say to me-’’ I look down at him. He nods encouragingly. ‘’It’s like...they fucking hated me for all the shit I did- and now I’m here and people are understanding? And Slender- is actually trying to learn why I’m like this? Like- diagnosing me and shit to try and help…’’ I frown. ‘’And I’m just thinking like- if they’d sent me to a therapist would it be different? If I’d just gotten diagnosed or something-’’ I shake my head. ‘’I dunno man…’’

He sits up a bit. He hugs me, pulling me against him. My face goes fucking red. ‘’Maybe things would’ve…’’ he murmurs. ‘’But we can’t change the past...there’s no magic ocarina to take us back in time unfortunately.’’ of course he made a zelda reference. Of course. ‘’We just gotta accept what we got now,’’ he smiles. ‘’And we got each other, right? That’s something to be happy about, isn’t it?’’

Oh god Jeff don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Not here. Not in front of the man you love. 

…

And you’re crying. Good job Jeff.

I’m not a loud crier. But I am a gross crier. I get all snotty and stuttery and can’t get my voice out properly. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes and silently roll down my gross scarred face. Ben reaches over and brushes them off with cold fingers. He feels cold as he hugs me but I don’t care. I wrap an arm around him and tug him closer. I can feel his breath on my neck as he gently shushes me. He sounds so caring, so...loving. Like a parent should treat their mentally ill kid. 

‘’B-ben-’’ I stammer out. He’s rubbing circles in my back. ‘’I lo-’’ wait what am I saying. ‘’I l-love-’’ WAIT HOLD ON- ‘’I love you…’’

SHIT

FUCK

NO

WAIT-

He hugs me tight and I shiver in the coldness of his body. ‘’I love you too…’’ his voice is soft and gentle. I believe him. I believe that he loves me. Genuinely- like I actually matter to him. He’d miss me if I was gone. And that- that’s a lot. I’ve spent my whole life feeling like it wouldn’t matter if I disappeared off the face of the earth. You wouldn’t care, my parents wouldn’t have cared. But Ben? Ben cares…

Which is why I proceed to squeeze the life (or lack thereof) out of him and sob into his shoulder. He holds me tight until I’ve (kinda) calmed down. He pulls away and tilts my head up to look at him. As gentle and as loving as I’d dreamed him, he wipes tears out of my eyes. I sob horsley and stare at him. He cups my face in his cold hands and smiles down at me.

‘’There you go…’’ he murmurs. ‘’See? I knew you just needed to get it out.’’ he smiles at me. I just- told him I love him. And he’s not making a big deal of it. That’s good, right?? That means he accepts me- right?

Right...yeah. Yeah, Ben accepts me. Ben doesn’t judge. 

‘’Yeah…’’ I gulp and look away from him awkwardly. ‘’Hey uh- do you wanna-’’ I fiddle with my hands again. ‘’Do you wanna...watch a movie or something? Together.’’

He nods and smiles. ‘’I’d love to.’’

And so- we end up watching not one, not two, but three movies, late into the night. And the entire time he’s curled up in my lap, comfy as can be. As the credits on our last movie roll, he looks up at me.

‘’Hey Jeff?’’

‘’Yeah?’’

‘’I love you.’’

My face goes bright fucking red. I don’t need to see it, I can feel it. I bury my face in my hands out of embarrassment. I hear him laugh at me like the bastard he is. I shoot him a glare from in between my fingers. I want to say it. I really do. I want to tell him I love him back but- it’s- it’s hard. He reaches up and pulls one of my hands away, letting him see me.

‘’You don’t have to say it back. It’s okay. I know.’’ He hugs my waist and rests his head against my chest. ‘’I can wait...until you’re ready.’’

It’s at this point I start crying. Again. 

Ben shushes me gently and runs his hand through my hair. And...as I looked down at him- it finally clicked. I don’t have to put the shield up- not around him. Ben is different. Ben...Ben is good.

Yeah.

Ben is good.

I guess...the reason why I’m telling you this- well...not telling, I guess- writing. The reason why I’m writing this is because...I feel like it’s something important. I need to remember it because...it’s a step. A step in me learning to accept myself. It sounds corny yeah but- fuck off okay? I’m full of trauma and insecurities. I’m allowed be a little sappy.

I don’t know who’ll end up reading this- I mean I’m literally scribbling it into a notebook I found in his drawer. There’s only two people who I really want this to be seen by. Ben, because he deserves to know how much he’s affected and helped me, and two...my brother. Though I doubt he’d ever find this- heh- 

I...love Ben. And that’s okay. At least- to me, I think it is.

[thedeviljudges]

omg please write the angry dog harringrove au, I love it already!

Okayyy, so I finally wrote that drabble based off my tags for this wallpaper. I also took name inspiration from @little-noodle-curl‘s lovely piece of art ft. Billy and his dog Archie because it’s the most adorable name ever, and it fit. But uh, I hope I did my own prompt justice??? lmao. Hope you like it, anon.

Steve’s learned punctuality straight from his father, that a man on time is a man to be trusted. While he’s had qualms with that particular phrase in the past, it sticks to the back of Steve’s mind like gum under a desk – useless, a little gross, and painstakingly obvious.

Though there’s two parts to time Steve can’t quite escape. As mastered as being on time has entrusted his dependability, he’s never figured out how to avoid wrong place, wrong time situations.

Steve’s timing in that regard has always been an empty shell, left filled with echoed footsteps of his demise. He’s found himself in many a situation he shouldn’t be in, doesn’t want to be in, and another moment of ill chance shouldn’t surprise him.

Then again, he hadn’t expected this.

Additionally, Steve’s prided himself on taking advice from others, weighed the options, choosing what parts he should adhere to. Yes, he thought it quite strange that many of his new neighbors told him to avoid apartment 201B, glancing down the hall, glancing at the numbers on the mailbox that sits in the foyer as if it might sprout a head and eat them whole.

Thing is, none of them said why, gave no indication other than the fact that that boy in there… and then they’d go quiet, shake their head while leaving Steve confused, built in questions leading into the precipice of the stairs where his apartment door sits, where 201B resides.

So really, out of propriety he left it alone, heeded the advice full stop just this once because he’s never seen anyone come or go from the apartment.

Often, he thinks its empty, that everyone’s forgotten that the tenant inside left ages ago because Steve never hears anything. Which leaves him up for chow as all eyes are on him, resting inside of the insidious tone the carries over when gossip runs rampant.

Steve smiles, and he’s polite. He goes to work, and he comes back, and as time shifts, his stay grows welcomed, and he’s forgotten about the door, about the warning, about anything other than sweet old women and the college students he passes in the hall who don’t give him the time of day.

He forgets, but his timeliness doesn’t. Steve forgets, and his father’s words stick, but he doesn’t think it applies to this situation.

So, when Steve attempts to wrangle his keys from his pocket to insert them into the lock, grimacing at the heavy weight of the shopping bag in his arms, the last thing he expects is to end up on the floor of the hallway in front of his apartment, breathless and confused from no longer being upright.

Steve hits the floor with a thud after a solid weight knocks him down, the contents of his grocery bag spilling across the thin carpet; the brown paper sack he’d used rips right down the middle. The weight of something moving stays on top of Steve no matter how much he squirms, and when he finally blinks away the stars in his eyes, he comes face to face with a dog.

A large dog.

A very large doberman with teeth and beady brown eyes.

Steve shrinks back despite being on the floor, shuffles his feet across the carpet for leverage. It’s difficult to move from being pinned down, and then suddenly the dog, black and brown and so very intimidating, is licking Steve’s face instead of eating it.

“Oh god,” he gripes, feels saliva drying against his cheek. Steve holds up his hands as a deterrent but not even that tames the obnoxious enthusiasm the dog bestows. “Okay, okay.”

Steve resolves to being pinned under the animal until he grows bored, thinks maybe a new face won’t be so interesting when Steve isn’t doing anything to reciprocate the affection this dog clearly thinks he deserves. He also contemplates whose dog this is as Steve knows his neighbors, knows the other tenants that dwell in the building, and not once has Steve seen a dog - a fucking doberman - this large around the building.

“Archie.”

The dog perks at the voice, turning its head away from Steve, the reprieve welcome and long enough for Steve to slide away from the pet. His back hits the wall, keeps his eyes trained on the animal in case it might attempt a round two, and ignores the distant footfalls that grow louder, closer.

“Are you okay?”

Steve blinks, eyes swinging away from the dog and up, up up until he’s met with bright blue eyes and golden curls. “Uh.”

“Didn’t knock your head too hard, did he?”

There aren’t any words left in his throat, in Steve’s brain, and like a slow motion movie, the man above him gradually sinks down until he’s crouched in front of him. “Archie gets a little enthusiastic around new people.”

As soon as he does it, Steve mentally berates himself from nodding dumbly, mouth parted slightly.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Steve scrunches his brow like he’s finally registering the questions he’s been asked, heat creeping up his cheeks as he flushes from idiocy. The dog had occupied him long enough for him not to notice that it had an owner, a very pretty one, Steve thinks, as soon as his mind snaps back from the fuss.

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to alleviate the silence that follows his reply, so he shrugs and attempts to stand up. Steve doesn’t wobble, nor does he catch himself agains the wall, but it doesn’t stop the stranger in front of him from reaching out to grab his elbow, gently helps Steve onto his feet, help he definitely doesn’t need but can’t be bothered to reject.

Steve doesn’t want to admit that his elbow, just like his face, is warm, sending a shiver down his spine and is only interrupted when the man lets him go in favor of hastily picking up Steve’s belongings. There’s a few apples that’ve run away from him, rolled down the hall, and Steve stares dumbly again before he can say anything remotely promising.

Instead, he says, “At least the groceries are safe.”

He’s met with a snort as the stranger sets Steve’s purchases in front of his front door. The paper bag lies on the carpet pathetically, not even enough to convert it into a makeshift brown basket that would, at the very least, hold all the fruits and vegetables Steve bought. So much for being an adult. So much for being healthy.

“And if they’re not, I’ll pay for them. I’m still really sorry.” The man glances behind him where Archie - the black and brown dog Steve now knows the name of - sits patiently waiting for his owner. Steve doesn’t think anything of it until his eyes pass over the front of the door.

201B

“Oh.”

It catches the stranger’s attention, brow arched and confused. Those blue eyes bore into Steve’s, puts him on the spot in a way he doesn’t like - or at least in a way he thinks he doesn’t like. They’re so tepid, bowls of ocean waves that remind Steve of the sun, of the water. “You live here?”

“Yes,” is the answer given, and then a nod down the hall, a glance at Archie who’s ears perk up. “M’name’s Billy.”

He doesn’t offer his hand, and that makes Steve sad, feels like maybe he lost the chance when his brain stalled because he’d been too busy looking instead talking. “Steve,” he gives in reply. “I didn’t think anyone lived there.”

Dipping his head to the side, a little movement that spurs the look of gears turning, Billy goes from thoughtful to mildly surprised to annoyed. “Right. I’ve lived her for four years.”

“Oh.”

“Are they telling you I died?”

“I-” Steve shuts his mouth, shakes his head until a strand of hair falls in front of his face. “They act it, though. I’ve never seen anyone come or go.”

Billy’s shoulders fall in exasperation, looking up at the ceiling like it might sprout a storm cloud with thunder and rain and a lighting bolt that might just burn him into a pile of ash. Steve feels guilty then, not even his fault for the way the tenants talked about a seemingly vacant apartment. Though, he guesses he probably should’ve taken the hint if they weren’t in a rush to lease the place out, and really, it’s not any of Steve’s business.

Well, until-

“I threaten the landlord once, and clearly that means I don’t exist anymore, fuck.”

“You what?” Steve doesn’t take a step back. He really doesn’t. He’s already leaning up against the wall, his groceries in a pile at this feet in front of his apartment, and Billy’s been nothing if not helpful. Really, it’s how bold Billy is, except Steve thinks like owner, like pet.

Billy’s lips thin, eyes falling to the ground as he realizes he’s said too much. “I might’ve suggested Archie would get ‘em, but that’s only because the asshole wouldn’t fix the heater. Or the sink. or the leak in the ceiling, or-”

“Gotcha,” Steve says waving Billy off with a slowly forming smile. “Probably deserved that, then.”

“Maybe,” Billy says sheepishly, shoulder in a half-raise. It’s his turn to fidget, it seems, as Steve notices the way he taps his fingers against his upper thigh, other hand running through his curls. They get stuck on knots along the way, little tangles from a day worn thin, and as unruly as they get the more Billy tries to busy himself, the frizzier they grow.

Steve knows he should excuse himself, thinks he should be the one to call their bluff and go about his day, but somewhere deep down a part of Steve still feels guilty for being so rude, hadn’t exactly hated the dog either. He’d just been caught off guard, and first impressions are clearly not his forte.

So, Steve makes a brash decision in the span of zero seconds because clearly his brain is still foggy from the tumble, and he sure as shit isn’t finding Billy cute or anything.

Steve’s not usually a liar; he knows that much.

“Would you help me bring these inside?” He sorta kicks at his things, not touching them with his foot because of germs - though he internally sorts because they’re already on the floor.

“Sure,” Billy says softly, a pause blooming across his face. He doesn’t move first; he allows Steve to grab a couple of things, hands them off to the other man before grabbing what’s left.

“Archie can come.”

And at the sound of his name, the big ole dog comes running at a gallop until Billy hisses under his breath for him to slow down.

“He doesn’t bite,” Billy says quickly, almost like he thinks the dog might tackle Steve again. He doesn’t, but he does bump his nose against Steve’s thigh, tail wagging as Steve pats him on the head as best as he can with his arms full of slowly warming food.

“That’s very good to know.” He fumbles for his keys in his pocket, produces them, unlocks the door, and stumbles inside with two new guests Steve hadn’t planned on having. “He’s just happy to have a new friend.”

“Is that so?”

Steve motions to the countertop in the kitchen. Small as it is, they set everything down until Billy steps back and lets Steve start putting things away. “He’s probably tired of being with you all day. Needs a reprieve.”

He’s met with a frown, pink lips unhappy until Steve meets Billy’s gaze. As best as he can, Steve holds back his smile, an effort of joking quickly turning sour until Billy catches on, smiling brightly in return. “He’s a pound puppy. Probably misses the attention.”

Archie, who clearly knows he’s being talked about, barks. It makes Steve jump because it’s loud, but he huffs out a laugh anyway. “I think he agrees.”

The silence this time isn’t stiffening nor filled with tension, and that’s maybe to do with Billy’s dog and how he clambers over to Steve like they’ve known each other for longer than ten minutes. Steve, who’s never owned a pet in his life because it’d ruin his parent’s house, quite surprisingly finds the doberman to be the sweetest animal he’s ever met.

“He could come around,” Steve suggests, scratching behind Archie’s ear. He’s a little dopey from the affection, and Billy doesn’t hide his grin, the love that spills across the lines of his face too pure. “To visit. If you want.”

Billy finally tears his eyes away from the dog, glancing up at Steve through the thick of his lashes. Steve would be damned to admit that Billy is soft, too, different than Archie, of course, but gentle in demeanor despite the ruckus he could ensue. “I-” he pauses, throat working for a reply.

It makes Steve hesitate, makes him think maybe he overstepped by asking, that he should learn not to be too friendly with people he does not know. Even if Steve’s a decent judge of character - or so he’d like to believe, and also has nothing to do with the fact that Billy is beautiful - he’d really like to see him again no matter what anyone in the building thinks about 201B.

“Yeah,” Billy says on an exhale, maybe reads something on Steve’s face, the genuine kindness, the lack of reproach at Billy’s insinuation that he’s not always the kindhearted type. “We’d like that.”

Steve doesn’t miss the pronoun. Doesn’t miss the way Billy smiles or how the creases by his eyes deepen. Steve isn’t sure whether he appreciated falling in front of his door if only because he’s sure he’ll feel the ache of it tomorrow, but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he could fall again, only this time, for someone much better.

[docholligay]

"stop touching things anon": i mean like...taking away disabilities. taking them away except for #looks. saying that the moon girls are only straight. shipping gen/cy because ~miracle romance b/w doctor & patient~. upholding the manga as The One True God. saying phamer/cy is #problematic because mercy is preying on fareeha. The Kiss. (u kno th e o n e.) stuff like that. now i'm really curious what you thought i meant? or what it meant to you? not asking in a bad way i promise

Oh oh GOTCHA FRIEND. (I thought you meant like…everything must be strict canon, etc, and I was like…”uh nothing ever?”) 

Overwatch, probably. Not that the SM fandom can’t be gross and petty and weird as fuck, but because it skews older, most of us have had the same fights 864 times and aren’t super interested in a rehash, so we go to our respective corners about 96% of the time. 

One thing I’ve noticed about OW is people spend almost more time complaining about how other people are creating than creating themselves, and also, have been suckled at the teat of #problematic culture, have a lot of difficulty separating “I hate this” from “this is definitely and only a problem” 

I hate Happy Outers Family. I hate it for a number of reasons, but one of them is some of the implications of taking a child from a recovered father on the basis of ‘knowing better’ than the child’s actual fucking family has a loooottt of shitty feelings for me and i simply can’t enjoy it. 

Were I in the younger set, I might be compelled to go on and on about those implications. But, age granting some distance, it’s easy for me to see how my takeaway is not necessarily universal, and how the idea in my mind may have become larger because I’ve been asked so many damn times why i don’t like it (We also need to stop doing this. Let People Hate Things Without Explanation 2kalways.) So I can just let other people like the thing! 

There are LOADS of things i hate about characterization, ships, headcanons, etc, in the OW fandom. But like two of those things are, upon reflection, actual shitty behavior. Most are either low key enough that I need to chill out, or I just hate them and am looking for a social justice reason to tell people not to like them. I see this allllllll the time in the OW fandom. Most ships aren’t problematic, friends, you just fucking hate them and can find reasons they might be. 

And yeah, if the OW fandom were at least vaguely as concerned about disability erasure as they are shipping politics, I’d probably go around there more often, but nah, it’s a hotbed of wildass shit.