#one of them boasting and the others immediately calling out their bullshit

[putuponpercy]

I love when people get very early season 1 dynamic right these idiots would literally already be up and arguing over the stupidest thing and throwing insults as you approach them at the sheds at the crack of dawn

[haoboutyou]

foolish one (stop checking your mailbox) | joshua hong

fluff, slightly suggestive | 1154 words | some cursing

a/n: wifey @bluehoodiewoozi: "if you write me an encouraging boyfriend shua x burnt out uni student y/n fic, i'll be the happiest woman on earth" except I wrote none of that :D

The university has dedicated study rooms all around campus, providing a conducive space for students to catch up on their coursework, computer work, or reading. It’s a great place to comfortably work on thesis papers without the stuffy silence of the library, or the rowdiness of the campus courtyard. It is not, unfortunately, a good place to audibly express disappointment every 10 minutes.

Joshua can’t take it anymore. How many times does he have to watch you check your phone whenever a notification pops up, how many times does that hopeful look on your face morph into disappointment when it was just another push-ad from a shopping app? 

He’s just about had it when you let out an audible sigh for the nth time, once again disrupting your supposedly productive study session. And so he bites the bullet, hoping that whatever it is that is distracting you from completing that dreaded thesis is worth all the sighing for.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Huh?” You look up from the laptop, annoyed that he distracted you just as you were about to concentrate.

Right on cue your phone lights up. He snatches the phone faster than you could reach for– it prompts a disgruntled “Shua no!” out of you. Joshua gives the notification a once over before he places the phone screen-up, crossing his arms. 

“You can’t possibly be waiting for–” He squints at the screen, reading out the pop-up banner. “ ‘60% off your next coffee’– Oh… That’s a really good deal.” He looks back up at you, watching as you sink back into your seat at the announcement. “Anyways, you’re clearly not waiting for the coffee. Spill.”

A minute of silence passes as Joshua watches you gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing but unable to find the right words to convey your current dilemma.

“...It’s Lucas–“ 

“You’re still talking to him?!” His disrupted yell earns him multiple death stares from others in the study room. 

You wince at his outburst, but you know it comes from a good place. Lucas, despite being known as the worst frat boy to come out of this university, is also the smoothest talker; somehow, he manages to get every girl on campus swooning at his feet. Joshua personally thinks he’s just a load of bullshit, that you could do better than that walking STD stick. Still,  he sighs when he sees your downcast look, staring blankly ahead at your dimmed laptop screen. 

“Y/n, he’s a player. You got a taste of his dick once and it was good, sure, but you didn’t mean anything to him. I’m serious!”

You hate the connotation that came with his words– it felt like he was calling you a whore. Your brows furrow deeper. You know he didn’t mean to, but it still sounds like that, and it still hurts. 

He realises his mistake almost immediately because as soon as those words come out, he backpedals on them so fast.

“No wait, I– I didn’t mean–” He’s instantly shut down by you, cutting through him like a knife.

You avoid looking straight into Joshua’s eyes, fighting the magnetic pull towards his chocolate eyes. Your next words are soft enough that he has to strain his ears to pick them up. “He isn’t like that though. He said what we had was different! He said I was special, that–“

“That no other girl could compare to you? Y/n, he says that to everyone!” Joshua’s exasperated. His heart breaks a little when he spots how glassy your eyes have become, but he presses on, wanting to tell you the hard truth. “Do you know what he does back at the frat house? He marches around, boasting about how many he’s slept with and what they’re like in bed. He shares those stories like some kind of sick trophy. He’s a disgusting, sorry excuse of a man!” 

Joshua leans forward across the table, engulfing your small hands with his. He rubs the back of your hands with his thumbs, trying to comfort you when notices silent tears running down your face.

“No…” You hiccup, trying to get your words across your sniffles. “I swear, I can change him!” Even you know how ridiculous you sound; there's no changing a fratboy so set in his ways like Lucas. You slump over your laptop, begrudgingly wallowing over your words. You sigh. It’s impossible. You’re just a hopeless romantic chasing after the affections of a man who gave you an ounce of attention.

“I really thought he was gonna be the one, Shua.”

 “There, there. You could do so much better and you know it. Don’t be so foolish!”

“Like who?!” You can’t help but snap at him. You’re desperate, of course; trying to shield your already humiliated and broken heart from his harsh (albeit truthful) words.

His voice drops to a whisper. 

“Like me?”

His grip on you hardens. There’s determination and endearment directed straight at you, that you’ve never noticed before, pouring through his eyes. He gulps; his biggest secret is out. The long-time crush he’s been harbouring on you is now public– to you, at least.

“I can treat you better.” He reaches out to wipe a tear from your cheek, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. 

You sigh. You’re doing a lot of that today; it's becoming a bit pathetic. “Shua, I'm not in the mood for you joking–”

“I’m not! Hell, I’m already letting you wear my jacket!” He tries to be serious, gesturing to the oversized jacket he lent you earlier, that envelops you around your shoulders. 

He heaves a sigh of relief when you let out a chuckle. His large hands find yours again. You feel yourself calming down, but your cheeks still heat up from his sudden proximity. 

You cock your head to the side. “Why didn’t you say anything before? I mean–” You gesture to the space between you. “Before all this?”

“Because you looked so happy, and I was afraid of ruining it all.” A shy smile graces his face. “Let me make up for it, please?”

You hold your stare, making him wait in anticipation. Finally, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you reply. 

“Buy me lunch, and I’ll think about it.”

“Lunch? Yeah, I can do that.” He can’t help but full-on grin at you. Standing up to gather his things, he extends a hand to pull you up. Ever the gentleman, you think. 

“Lucas was pretty good in bed though. Think you can one-up that?” You joke.

Joshua pulls you into his chest, one arm wrapping around you while the other picks up your bag. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll show you an even better time later.” 

“Later…?” Your voice trails as you let him whisk you away for lunch. He wiggles his brows at you, mischievous demeanour unveiling. 

And so, your thesis remains incomplete yet another day.

[nikoisme]

Alright Achilles and Patroclus headcanons take 2:

-Patroclus is older than Achilles (this is canon but it's fine),, not by much, in my head it's about 2 years;

-They are the same height!

-Before Patroclus killed the boy over dice, they got into a fight and Patroclus ended up breaking his nose. It healed with a slight deformity and he has a bit of problems with breathing through his nose;

-I portray Achilles with amber/hazel-ish eyes,, but i'm so tempted to change them to blue purely because of this:

-Achilles and Patroclus got along immediately. You know how some kids in kindergarten are best friends and maybe swore a blood oath by the end of the first day? That's them.

-Chiron had to constantly keep them from getting into trouble and getting killed. They were really reckless as kids.

-Patroclus almost never gets sick. Even when he does, it's nothing serious. Achilles on the other hand? He's the first to catch a cold or any sickness. The moment it gets slightly colder he is sick;

-Achilles is an excellent swimmer and can hold his breath underwater longer than average;

-It's not that Achilles is afraid of Patroclus' dogs,, he just avoids them. Doesn't think much about them, but they kind of tolerate each other based on their shared love for Patroclus.

-Achilles and Patroclus kind of have this little.. grudge against each other since they were kids. It started with Achilles tripping Patroclus. Then Patroclus returned it by letting a branch hit Achilles (he didn't hold it for Achilles to pass,, he just let go of it and it smacked him in the face). And that whole "oh you'll fucking see for this" thing extended through adulthood;

-Patroclus' sense of humor I talked about here;

-Also he has a habit of boasting over someone he's killed and just cracking jokes as he kills them, and usually someone of the Achaeans will hear him and go "oh my gods" and just burst into laughter;

-He does that partially because Trojans will obviously be pissed off and rush forward,, but he just wants them to come closer so he can kill them;

-On that topic, Achilles doesn't really know how to joke. He doesn't understand most of the jokes, and frankly doesn't like them. He only understands Patroclus' humor and slowly learned his own as time went on. Also he is shit at recognizing tone of voice (that's why he is on complicated terms with odysseus. never knows if he is fucking with him or not).

-And my interpretation of their relationship here;

-Thetis and Patroclus never interacted much, but she is quite fond of him;

-While Patroclus gets along with pretty much everyone in camp, he isn't afraid to call out anyone's bullshit.

-For example; he gets along just fine with Odysseus (they often talk about dogs :D) but he is willing to get into an argument with him any time.

-On the other hand, Achilles and Odysseus get along great on some days, but on some days they can't stand each other's guts.

-You know how we talk about how Patroclus has to hold Achilles back when he gets mad? I stand by that. But whenever Patroclus gets mad, he has to be held back by several people (that usually being Achilles, Automedon and/or Phoenix). He needs to be given a lot of time to calm down.

-On that topic, Patroclus has so much rage stuffed inside of him. He just chooses to remain calm and collected and find a reasonable solution for things,, but as a result he is a ticking bomb just waiting to explode. He usually takes that rage out on the battlefield.

-Patroclus and Achilles aren't constantly next to each other in battle. They are always ready to rush in and help on other sides of the battlefield, then they get distracted and just fight their way through. But they always somehow spawn next to each other. One will turn around and see the other just fighting next to him out of nowhere.

-Achilles doesn't really mind blood (he literally spills it every day). But he kind of freaks out when he sees his own, whether it's a nose bleed or whatever. On the other hand Patroclus tends to his own wounds by himself like it's nothing.

-Now, they are both formidable warriors on their own. A Trojan soldier will see Achilles and while that's horrible on its own,, he can't help but think where is the other one??? And then he gets killed from behind by Patroclus. They like to ambush soldiers like that.

-Patroclus is the one who listens to Nestor's long stories. Listen, everyone at camp respects the man, but they always find a way to get Patroclus to do the listening instead of them. He takes one for the team.

-Also Achilles gets nosebleeds often.

-Patroclus and Menelaus were really good friends! And after Patroclus was killed, guilt was devouring Menelaus from the inside.

-Antilochus kept a very close eye on Achilles after Patroclus died. He is also one of the first/only people Achilles let into his life after Patroclus.

[slayerchick303]

In honor of Pride, here are some more of my Queer as Folk hot takes:

I hate the Jenny Rebecca custody battle storyline. For one thing, it's tedious as hell. Also, I don't believe Ben would support Michael in that bullshit. Ben is all about balance and everything in moderation. There's no way he would be like, "We know these 2 women are good mothers, but because they're no longer a couple, that makes me and Michael more qualified to have custody of JR." Like, no. When Hunter's mother came back, he was all set to send Hunter back to her without a custody battle before learning how she abused Hunter. Him supporting Michael in the fight for Jenny Rebecca makes no sense.

The way the show resolved Ted's self-esteem problems sucked. They literally made him have to have cosmetic surgery to have any confidence. It would've made more sense for Ted to have overall better mental health and realize his self-worth after becoming sober and having therapy. It would've been a much healthier message for society, too.

The show making Drew Boyd gay was stupid. The guy is obviously bisexual. He says he has sex with a million women as well as men. He also says he's attracted to and loves his female fiancee while he's having an affair with Emmett. He's not gay. Making him, as well as Hunter and Lindsay, binary sexualities is bi erasure and is straight up nonsensical.

Michael is often an asshole in season 5, and I hate how judgemental his character becomes. Yes, it's good that Michael doesn't bend over backward to defend Brian as much when Brian would never do the same for him. Especially since Michael often shielded Brian from criticism from others when Brian's choices frequently went against Michael's own values. A moment I especially hate is when Michael and Brian are fighting in the empty Babylon when Brian is trying to convince Michael to drop the custody battle for JR, because it'll fuck over Lindsay (which Brian is totally right about). Michael says that Brian needs to grow up because Brian doesn't want a monogamous relationship, to get married, or to have children. It's fucking bullshit. Brian is not childish for not wanting those things. Brian calls Michael out on being a judgemental, sanctimonious, twat. Michael used to defend Brian for having different desires for his life because Brian's wants are 100% valid. When Michael gets married, moves to the suburbs, and has JR/fosters Hunter, he becomes this dick who thinks that if you don't have the same priorities as him, you're immature. That's a horrible belief and a total change from the accepting person he used to be.

There could have been a much better ending to Ted revenge fucking the guy (Troy) who pity fucked Ted as a Pride "gift" in season 2. Ted's initial plan to tell Troy he's Ted's pity fuck now is awesome, and Ted falling for him is 100% on brand for Ted's character. Troy continuing to be an asshole and them breaking up, despite both genuinely liking each other in the show, makes me a little sad. I have an idea for a much better end for them. Troy immediately boasts to Ted about his hobby of sleeping with "losers" as a joke in the show and that he did it to someone in Ted's building (not realizing it was actually Ted himself). Instead of what the show did, as Troy and Ted spent more time together, Troy could have seen how well Ted treated people. It could've made Troy realize that what he used to do was really shitty. We could've even seen Troy run into one of his pity fucks earlier on his own and apologize, saying that he was horrible, lead the guy on, was sorry, and hoped the guy found someone who saw how great he was. Troy could've expressed to Ted that being with him made Troy want to be a better person (because Ted does that for essentially everyone in his life by being so supportive and kind, especially after getting sober). It would've been amazing for that final night at Babylon to go a different way. Emmett could still come up to ask if Ted had dumped Troy yet, only to realize Ted had fallen for him. Then, instead of what the show did, all of them could've seen Troy apologize to the random guy he wronged who came up to him about Troy ditching him. It would've been great if Troy said after that that he wished he could find the guy he did the same thing to in Ted's building so he could apologize to that guy too, and that Ted had inspired him to take accountability. The gang could see Ted admit that he was Troy's pity fuck there. Troy could sincerely apologize in front of everyone and say he'd understand if Ted never wanted to see him again and/or if all of Ted's friends hated him. The gang could give Ted and Troy their blessing, and Ted and Troy could end up together. After all, Ted's friend group forgave people for MUCH worse behavior (i.e. Blake nearly killing Ted).

What are your Queer as Folk unpopular opinions? Tag me in your post or put them in a reblog if you do this. Here is PART TWO:

[arjaandsimoni]

A Summons from the Prince

After spending the day arguing with several hotel managers, the police, and having to deal with more than a few amateur Cryptid Hunters (there’d been a boom following Claiomh Dorcadas’ destruction) the group had gotten a very firm ‘request’ to vacate the hotel, which would have to close for repairs for the foreseeable future, along with a statement that a bill for the damages would be faxed to Nelen’s employer.

They could email it, but they were pissed and wanted to be awkward about it.

The rest of the day had been spent trying to find a new hotel to stay in as Aisha had a few other rituals she needed to observe to cement her new relationship with Samedi. She had the keys but channeling a power like one of the Loa could burn a person up from the inside out, she had to learn how to use the keys without frying her body to the point where Samedi would just let her die out of pity.

Alice and Nessa had to depart, called back to France by their father, and Loren was recalled to the current headquarters of Clan Fullmoon now that it was clear that Al’s plan had been foiled. Jeannie scryed again and only foresaw… well the same old bullshit really. Things wouldn’t be great, but that’s America for you.

However, the team was very eager to bed down after all that had happened. Despite her boasts of her power, childbirth had taken it out of Drusilla, the cyclops would need a few days to recover…

Unfortunately, it would seem that the good people of New Orleans had other plans for them.

… well, I say ‘people’ but… well, yes people, but not human people…

A Hotel in New Orleans Louisiana, Very Late at Night

Nelen snorted awake, sitting up next to Drusilla as a hand pounded on the door to the hotel room. He cringed, looking at the bassinet next to the bed. “Don’t wake up don’t wake up please please don’t…” he whispered, then sighed as a loud wailing sound came from the cot. “… by all the gods and demons not again…” he groaned, getting out of bed in just a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, snatching his new silver framed glasses from the nightstand (his old ones had been destroyed by Al’s minions) and stalking to the door. “For fuck’s sake it took us hours…” he growled.

Nelen had been at a loss as to what to do with his new daughter. He knew all about how to fight monsters, but taking care of a baby one? Dawn had been easy. Besides her intelligence she was, basically, a cat but Scylla was a baby humanoid.

Feeding her was easy enough, she just latched right on when Drusilla showed her teat to her in a way that made Nelen blush and made Arja laugh at him for blushing because ‘she’s just feeding the baby! What is it with you Americans anyways?!’ but he had been at a loss as to how to get her to sleep without using a sleeping charm, and he didn’t want to because who knew what that would do to an infant?

After two hours of a wailing newborn, he’d given in and done the only thing left; he’d called his mother. She’d insisted on him sending her pictures immediately, spent a good five minutes fussing over her new grandbaby (‘She has my eyes! Well, one of ‘em.’) and such, and finally Catherine Fullmoon had shrugged and told him, “Babies just do that sometimes, you gotta let her cry it out and she’ll go to sleep on her own.”

So, he had, and she did, and according to the clock that had been fifteen minutes ago…

He got to the door, yanking it open so hard the hinges creaked, then grabbing the shirt of the first person he saw and dragging them over to him, his eyes narrowed with dark bags under them. “Hear THAT?” he snarled, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, “THAT just stopped fifteen fucking minutes ago. Give me ONE good reason why I shouldn’t just throw you out a godsdamn window and be done with it.” he demanded.

The person he grabbed was a slender young man wearing a simple navy-blue suit with a black shirt, a blood red tie, and a pair of small round sunglasses hiding his eyes. Behind him were a young man and a woman dressed in a similar fashion. None of them seemed concerned at all about his actions. “We’re here for Natasha Kernovich.” The man stated, reaching up and prying Nelen’s fingers open. “We have… business.” he replied, sliding his glasses down. His eyes glowed red in the dim hallway.

Nelen raised his eyebrow at that. Pale skin, very strong, and they wore sunglasses at two in the morning. “… right…” he replied. Add that all together with the fact that they knew Natasha by name… “Well, hells with it, baby is already awake…” he sighed, throwing up his hands. “Wait here, I’ll go get her…” he grumbled, closing the door.

He didn’t bother latching it. If they really wanted in, they could take it right off its hinges. Hell, they could rip the whole wall apart. Them knocking had really just been being polite. He walked to the window where the fire escape was, opened it and looked out onto the metal stairwell outside.

Seated there was Natasha, having just finished her meal for the evening, wiping her mouth daintily with a handkerchief.

“Natasha. There are three vampires out in the hall. They’re asking for you by name. The fuck.” he growled, giving her a suspicious look. “Tell me this is some stupid territorial crap so I can just stake them and go to bed.”

Natasha looked up, then frowned, “… I have not done anything to anger the prince that I know of… I introduced myself when we arrived as is proper, confirmed where outsiders are allowed to feed, and I have stayed to those locations.” she nodded, “Did they look upset?” she asked.

He shrugged, “They looked like their emotions were as dead as they are, but they said they had ‘business’ with you.” he nodded, then frowned as he heard Drusilla growling behind him. It sounded like she’d worked out he wasn’t going to rock Scylla and woken up. “Whatever it is, can you get them the hell outta here? Drus is already pissed enough with that going on all night, the last thing we need is to get thrown out of the ruins of another hotel.”

Natasha nods in response, climbing in through the window and heading out the door, shutting it behind her. As she did the door connecting the rooms opened and Simoni walked in, yawning loudly, “Nelen? Whats going on?” she muttered.

Nelen shrugged at her, “Fucked if I know sis…” he replied as he picked up a colorful pacifier from where it fell out into the basket and passed it to Drusilla, who slipped it between Scylla’s lips. The cyclops baby began to nurse immediately, slowly calming down. “Some vampire business.”

As he said this Natasha walked back in, “Well… it would appear I have been summoned by Prince Henri, the ruler of the vampyr of New Orleans.” she stated. “Nelen, I would appreciate your expertise on this matter infact… and perhaps you as well Simoni, if you are willing to come?” she asked, looking to her.

Simoni started a bit, “Me? Um… well sure, lemme just go wake up Arja…” she nodded, padding back into the next room over before a loud grunt, groan, and some rather colorful Hindi curse words emerged.

Dawn sat at the foot of the bed, yawning widely, “Hmmnnn… whatcha do Draculina? Bite his favorite mortal?” she grinned, swishing her tail.

Natasha snorted, “Nothing of the sort! Prince Henri and I used to work together in Romania during the eighteen hundreds, but he wound up leaving to the New World after its discovery, traveled to Haiti, and eventually became New Orleans’ prince. We knew each other, and he knows of my talents, and wished for my assistance in a private matter.” she nodded, “It is… how do you say… personal…” she added.

Nelen and Dawn nodded, “Got it.” they both replied.

As they did Arja and Simoni emerged from their room, looking tired but dressed to go out at least as Nelen pulled on some jeans and a clean-ish teeshirt, along with his new glasses and a black ballcap, shouldering his bag. “Alright. Drus, I gotta go deal with this. Sorry, but you gotta watch Scylla. I don’t want her around vampires until she’s big enough to break one over her leg.” he nodded to her.

Drusilla snorted sleepily. “Whatever Many-scars… just call me if you need me to tear someone’s head off… right now I’d really like that…” she growled.

Nelen nodded back, “If you don’t hear from us by morning, go nuts.” he replied.

Dawn jumped up onto Nelen’s shoulders, playing the role of an ordinary cat at the moment, as the group walked out into the hall and Nelen nodded to the vampires waiting for them, who nodded back and walked them to the exit and into a waiting van. Once they were in the van got rolling.

“Alright, so what the hell is this all about.” asked the former warlock as the van pulled onto the road.

The guards were all seated up front, one of them looking back at them over her shoulder. “As we told Natasha, Prince Henri requires her presence, as well as any of her allies versed in mystical and spiritual arts.” she said icily, “Are you all familiar with the etiquette and behaviors expected of meeting one of our princes, mortal?” she asked.

Nelen shrugged, “Got hired to stake a couple, that’s about it.” he replied. He was in a pretty bad mood; sleep deprived, still sore in his chest where he’d used Claiomh Solias to stab himself (Cernunnos was able to close the wound and mend his heart, but he was a god of Hunting, not Healing,) and having been woken up repeatedly by his newborn daughter had left him irritable.

She nodded, “The short version then. Don’t talk back, don’t be rude, speak when addressed. The prince isn’t heavy into decorum, but he doesn’t accept any disrespect. Especially from mortals.” she nodded as the van turned a corner.

Nelen nodded slowly at that, glancing down at his hands. After all those years it still felt weird to not have his bandages on them anymore and it meant something worrying. Vampire princes tended to be extremely powerful, they had to be to demand the respect of the other undead, and now that Merihim was Cernunnos once more, he wasn’t safe from them feeding on him. His blood was no different from any other man’s.

Simoni nodded, then looked at Natasha, “Okay, seriously Nat… what the heck is going on?” she whispered to her. She was more than a little nervous about this herself. Arja was able to use fire, which vampires feared, but she was one girl, and a prince would likely have many powerful guards.

“I genuinely do not know Simoni.” replied Natasha, though she didn’t bother whispering. She knew the other vampires heard every word Simoni had said. “They did not tell me, and I do not know what he would want of me. We have worked together in the past, we… were friendly enough I suppose… but… we’re not… what is the word…” she thought, “… besties?” she tried.

Simoni nodded, “Um, close enough yeah.” she giggled a bit, “I get what you mean.”

Nelen however, looked thoughtful (if sleepy.) Truth be told he was too tired for this shit, but you didn’t turn down a vampire prince’s ‘invitation’ if you had small children to worry about. While Drusilla was perfectly capable of taking apart a coterie of vampires both figuratively and literally, vampires were fast and could outnumber her. Best not kick that hornet’s nest. “Worked with him on what, exactly?” he asked.

“He is a collector. He enjoys studying and finding relics with a significant spiritual nature about them. I helped him liberate a few… items… from those who were less than worthy to hold such things.” she nodded, “It is, what you would call, ‘win-win.’ These treasures are now in the hands of a proper owner and Prince Henri has a new trophy. I know he keeps such things safe because he wishes to be able to boast about owning such things."

Nelen shrugged, “Okay, yeah… that I can get. Hells, I’ve done those jobs myself.” he admitted.

Dawn grinned up at her from his lap, “We helped track down the Maltese Falcon once.” she said.

Nelen sighed, rolling his eyes, “It was another fake. I don’t think there even is a real one at this point.” He nodded, looking up as the vehicle began to slow. “Game faces kids. We’re here.” he warned.

The prince’s lair turned out to be a bit more conspicuous than most. A large but unmarked building, black paint covering all the windows, and a viewer slot built into the door that screamed ‘underground club.’ The car had parked into a side alley next to it, the driver getting out and motioning to another door marked ‘deliveries.’

Natasha stood and nodded, “Be careful everyone. Prince Henri is not too formal, but he can be a bit… eccentric.” she said.

Nelen looked over Natasha as she said this. The diminutive vampire was dressed in a wine-red silk button-down top, a long black skirt, knee high heeled boots with buttons, and a long black silk cloak. If they weren’t in New Orleans, she would have looked more out of place than Drusilla visiting Tokyo. “… eccentric… yes, I think we can handle an eccentric vampire.” he nodded.

The group followed the vampire trio into the club’s storage area, a faint rhythmic ‘thud thud’ coming from the dance floor as they went, then into a service elevator which they rode downwards for what felt like at least two stories worth of building. Then it opened, and they saw the court of Prince Henri.

A wide-open area, like a fancy nightclub or upscale bar, with muted lighting and soft music. Upstairs was a more raucous party area for the mundane clientele, some of whom would likely wind up entertaining down here if they weren’t careful, but downstairs it was quite clear to them upon entering that only Arja, Simoni, Nelen, and Dawn were alive, biologically speaking.

All around them were vampires, some looking more refined, others looking like they’d just come out of the bayou themselves, and all of them watching the four living people very curiously. Dawn hissed, folding her ears back, ready to play her ‘get out of massacre free’ card if needed. She may be a goofball most of the time, but she was Nelen’s partner for a reason.

Arja glanced back and forth, making sure to stay close to Simoni, ready to make fire if necessary. A shell of flames around them could hold back the vampires if they got violent.

“Ah, I see our guests have arrived.” came a voice. The voice had a thick Haitian accent and all heads turned towards it as he spoke. “Forgive the rudeness Lady Kernovich, but my agents told me about your allies’ victory over that mad alchemist out at the old coke bottling plant, the one that was giving the kine those drugs, and I figured… perhaps you and they could help with my little situation.” he explained as he stood.

Prince Henri was a striking figure to say the least. His suit was so white it practically glowed, as was his silk tie he wore with it, but these contrasted harshly with his jet-black skin. Not a natural ‘black’ either, literally black as pitch, with bright green eyes scanning the group, his lips parting in a grin to show his shining white fangs and teeth. It was like looking at a stretch of night sky in a designer suit.

Nelen raised his eyebrow at that. He didn’t need to be bound to Cernunnos to tell he was looking at a very old vampire, possibly one from a long-lost bloodline given his unusual skin coloration, and again he felt a little concerned. He was glad to have broken his ties with Hell and given Cernunnos his godhood back, but he had to admit he would rather miss the security of knowing that any vampires that tried to feed on him would have a case of indigestion involving the term ‘blast radius.’

Natasha strode to the raised platform where Prince Henri’s throne was, stopping just before it, then bowing low. “Good evening to you, Prince Henri.” she replied, smiling softly, “I am, of course, honored to be summoned here again… though it is a bit concerning how secretive everyone is being.” she said, raising her eyebrow expectantly at the elder vampire.

The prince chuckled, “Of course, my deepest apologies for that. Sadly, with this I am not sure whom I can trust. A terrible position for a prince to be in, I’m sure you would agree.” he nodded, turning on his heel and waving for them to follow, “Come, join me in my office?” he offered.

Nelen glanced around, noting that more than a few of the vampires seemed to be openly armed. Several were more modern, the whole ‘gats and tats’ look of the modern gangster, while others had archaic weapons ranging from daggers to swords (he’s pretty sure he even saw a tomahawk in there.) Still, they didn’t have much of a choice at this point. He nodded to Arja and Simoni, the four of them following the prince and Natasha.

Prince Henri’s office was a large back area, a nice-looking desk surrounded by glass display cases of various odd or exotic items. Most were small and seemingly inconsequential; rings, necklaces, old swords and other weapons, but a few more macabre relics were scattered as well. Mummified fingers, ‘leather’ bound books, eyes and other body parts suspended in liquid…

… and one empty case. Rather, an empty cage of sorts. Whatever was in there hadn’t been an object, but a living creature.

“Ah, I see your warlock has noticed then.” said the Prince. “This is why I called you here. Tonight, I woke to find I had been robbed. Moreover, I have been robbed of something very dear to me.” he gestured to the empty cage, “Tell me, are any of you familiar with an artifact known as a shamir?” he asked.

Nelen raised an eyebrow, glancing at Prince Henri, “Heard the term once…” he replied, scratching idly at his beard, “Something of King Solomon’s… but not one of the more famous ones though. I mean everyone who knows anything about ancient history knows about his rings…” he added, furrowing his brow. He knew he’d read something about it…

“A worm that King Solomon fashioned into a tool.” stated Natasha, “It can cut through anything, disintegrating it as if it were nothing at all.” she explained.

Prince Henri nodded, “Mmmhmm… an artifact of great importance and prestige. Not only that, but you can also imagine what a powerful tool it is. I obviously don’t want just anyone having that kind of tool, as well as of course the deep personal rage I feel at being robbed.” he scowled, his fangs lengthening for a moment, “Everyone in this city knows its mine, it was the centerpiece of my collection! If our thief gets up to mischief with it, then I look like a fool because I allowed it to happen!” he spat.

Nelen nodded, “Right, so you need Natasha and us to find out who nicked it.” he said, “I’d ask if you had any enemies but… well… vampire prince, dumb question. It’d likely be easier to list the people who don’t want someone to stake you.” he nodded, “Shoot, should’ve brought Lupe with us… any ideas kids?” he asked.

Dawn squinted around, “Don’t see anything weird…” she mrowled and Arja just shrugged. She wasn’t really the investigative type.

Nelen nodded, “Right, well… what about security cameras?” he suggested, “This much loot, there has to be some sort of security system.”

Prince Henri nodded, smirking ruefully. “Outside the club yes, but not inside for… well… many reasons.” he explained, moving to his computer, and bringing up the security footage. “This is yesterday’s feed. As you can see, throughout the day it is normal… except for right here…” he paused the feed. At around one minute until Noon the camera feed suddenly… shorted out. It went to static, glitching and pixelating, then snapped to 12:01 PM. “Not exactly much to see, but it gives us a timeframe.”

Nelen watched it a few times, “Well, that rules out other vampires. That was noon, and it was bright and clear yesterday. They could have sent a ghoul or something of course, but I think you’d have recognized whoever they sent. Could be a mage, some technology goes weird when magic gets used around it, especially if its more sensitive... your men didn’t find anything else? I mean that elevator looked like the only way down, unless we have a shapeshifter or someone who can move through ventilation ducts.” he tried.

“That is what you might call the ‘Million Dollar Question.’” he replied. “As you say, the only way in is through the elevator, and in the daytime its guarded by my ghouls. Personal aides who would rather die than betray me…” he frowned, sitting at the desk chair, and leaning back, “So then, we have a riddle, yes?” My home is burgled, not a hair out of place, my ghouls are deceived though I have… well… interrogated them carefully.” he grinned, “I have utmost faith they did NOT allow a stranger in, even the case itself seems completely untouched.”

Nelen nodded, ‘Yeah, still too many unknowns. A Sin-eater with the right powers could have just walked right through the walls, hell maybe even the case itself… or some really rare or unusual type of mage. Then of course, there’s motive. Why take the shamir at all? Was it a personal vendetta, do they need it for something specific?” he frowned.

Simoni looked around thoughtfully as he said this, then spoke up, “Um, Nelen. I might have something that could help. I wasn’t sure if we were too far underground, but I wanna give it a shot.” she said.

Nelen looked at her, then nodded, “Well, alright then, whatcha got?” he asked.

Simoni closed her eyes, then whistled softly, and the papers on Henri’s desk rustled as a faint gust of wind drifted through the room, barely enough to do more than blow a bit of hair around. For Simoni, it was like a sonar. The wind blew over the objects in the room and she felt them with her mind, trying to spot anything that was out of place, anything that felt like it shouldn’t be there…

… and then her eyes snapped open. “I think I feel something! The vent on the floor of the shamir’s cage! There’s something odd stuck in it!” she nodded, pointing at it.

The prince raised his eyebrow at her, then nodded to Nelen. He took out a multitool from his bag, then lifted the cage up and unscrewed the vent before lifting the grating up, reaching in… and coming out with a small metal object.

As careful as the thief had been, the worm was a living creature (or at least a very good copy of one. Even King Solomon had never been entirely sure of it’s true nature.) Despite the thief’s planning, the worm had reacted to being taken and lashed out. Inside the vent had been a small cuff link, the clasp that would normally keep it on someone’s suit having been burnt away as if by fire. The cuff link showed a small round disk with a gold six pointed star, the Star of David, with Hebrew writing around it.

“Shit… I can’t read it. I lost my ear clip during the fight with Al’s zombies.” he muttered.

Arja and Simoni shrugged, the two of them having left theirs in the hotel room. As useful as they were, they were uncomfortable if they tried to sleep with them on.

However, Natasha plucked it out of his hand and looked it over. “Hmm… It says… ‘Well, you have got the small one. Now what do you want?’” she replied, then blinked in confusion, “That… if I am not mistaken, is from an old Jewish story. One of the tales of Hershel of Ostropol. Its rather, well, silly honestly.” she mused.

“He and his friend got bread at the bakery, but the baker only had two loaves left. One was big and the other was small. Hershel took the big one and gave his friend the small one, his friend stating that this was rude. Hershel asked what his friend would do in his place and his friend said, ‘of course, I would take the smaller one and give you the larger’ and then Hershel said what was on the cufflink.” she explained.

Nelen raised his eyebrow, “That’s… it? So, our thief is really fond of obscure Jewish humor?” he asked, “Simoni, are you sure there’s nothing else?”

Simoni shook her head, “Nothing that I could sense anyways. Rest of the room felt normal to me, that was the only thing that seemed out of place.” she replied.

“Our thief must be Jewish… and likely a scholar of stories. These fables are not exactly… mm… who was it… the old man that Arja showed me the movies of…” murmured Natasha.

Arja smirked, “Mel Brooks.” she nodded, glancing at Nelen, “We had a movie marathon back in October.”

“Precisely… but yes, these stories are not very well known outside of Jewish families.” she nodded.

Prince Henri folded his arms over his chest, “So a Jewish Scholar… that’s a profile at least. But why would a scholar want to steal from me?” he asked.

“Well, perhaps the same reason you obtained the Shamir? He feels you are unworthy of an artifact like it?” suggested Natasha.

Nelen shrugged, “Could be, or maybe he wants it for the same reason Solomon did. I mean, if he’s a scholar he probably knows more than I do about what the shamir was used for, and if King Solomon had it… well, he was one of the most powerful mages to ever live. Not on par with Merlin, but damn close to it. He could be planning on using it for something. But the question is what…” he frowned, looking up thoughtfully.

The former warlock sighed aloud, “Well, if he’s a scholar of Jewish lore then he’s probably Jewish himself… which means he could frequent one of the synagogues in the area, or other big places for the local Hebrews. He’d need a library of some sort most likely, and some way of storing the shamir himself that the thing couldn’t just eat its way out of.”

Henri nodded, tapping his chin, “Unless our thief is from outside of New Orleans, there’s only one major synagogue in the city with a library of this size. It also has a rather well stocked cultural education program, many classrooms and such. If he has a case similar to my own he could simply hide it in there somewhere… however, that brings us to a new issue.” the prince frowned, “A synagogue is not like a Christian church, they tend to be very restrictive to outsiders.”

Nelen frowned at his words, “Yeah, not to mention he nicked it from a vampire prince. He’d be an idiot to not ward his base against supernatural entry, especially at nighttime… I doubt Dawn or I could get in.” he nodded.

Simoni winced at that, “Yeah… and we’re not Jewish, even if we could get in we wouldn’t know what to look for!” she sighed, rubbing her arm awkwardly. This was turning out to be rather outside their skillset.

Nelen folded his arms and thought for a long moment, then nodded, “Right, we’ve done about all we can here kids. We need to figure out who this thief is and what his patterns are. Maybe if we’re really lucky we can catch him outside his hidey hole, put the screws to him, and just make him give us the shamir back somehow.” he sighed, shrugging.

Natasha nodded in agreement, turning to the prince. “I swear to you Prince Henri, on my honor we will do all in our power to find you the answers you seek.” she said with a bow to him.

He nodded, dismissing the group with a wave, “I have faith in your abilities, Lady Kernovich. You have been a reliable aid as long as I have known you. Do remember however, this is more than a matter for my wounded pride. The shamir is a powerful tool in the wrong hands. I cannot promise much aid, I would prefer to keep this quiet, but whatever aid I can give you I shall.” he nodded.

Later, back at the hotel.

Nelen sighed, shrugging his shoulders as they walked back in. “Ugh, this is a fine mess. A Hebrew artifact gets stolen and I barely know anything about Kaballism or Hebrew magic. Most of my studies focused on the Christian side of things… I mean, I know a Hebrew mage… but she’s probably busy with other stuff.” he frowned.

“Well… not quite Nelen…” said Natasha as they returned. “You do know one other Jew.” she stated.

They all turned to look at her, Nelen raising his eyebrow. “We do?” he asked.

The vampire nodded, “Yes. Me.” she replied, pointing to her chest, “I was raised Jewish in Old Romania and I have been so my entire unlife. I know much of Hebrew and Kaballistic lore, it is how I obtained the shamir for the Prince to begin with.” she stated.

Nelen blinked in surprise, “Oh… huh, I guess it never occurred to me to ask. Most vampires don’t bother with their mortal faith after they become undead since, yanno, holy symbols and all…” he replied.

Natasha smirked, “This is true, I cannot exactly be blessed by a Rabbi without experiencing some discomfort, but my faith is still quite a part of who I am." she replied.

Dawn however, was grinning, “So… you’re a Jewish vampire though?” she asked, opening her mouth and holding up a finger.

Nelen immediately glared at her, “Dawn. If you make any of the jokes I know you’re thinking of… I’m going to shave your tail.”

Dawn glanced at him… then whispered, “Challenge accepted.” and took a deep breath.

A lot of yowling, screaming, and the buzz of an electric razor later.

Nelen and Dawn sat next to each other on the bed in the room, Nelen covered in claw marks with his hair mussed and his shirt torn. Dawn sat there thumping her now bald tail against the bed with a grin, “… worth it.” she whispered.

Natasha shrugged, “I have heard worse.” she replied with a smirk, “But yes, if nothing else I could advise on this matter… but…” she sighed, “I still cannot enter the synagogue myself. It is as you said in Prince Henri’s haven Nelen, our thief would be a fool to leave his home unguarded against the vampyr during the night, and of course I cannot travel during the day.” she nodded.

Nelen sighed, “Yeah… but none of us can get in. I mean I got the beard for it, but I know zip about Judaism, and Arja and Simoni are obviously not Jewish so how..." he began, then paused and glanced to his side. Not the side that Dawn was sitting at, but an empty spot on the bed.

He blinked slowly as if someone was speaking to him, then replied, “… seriously? That’s…” he began, “Um… huh… well, okay then… Natasha, I might have an answer here…” he started.

Arja and Simoni had already gone back to bed, leaving just the three of them alone with Drusilla feeding Scylla in the corner.

“What answer is that?” asked the vampire, cocking her head as she idly scratched Lupe behind her ears.

“Well… this is a longshot… but before vampires couldn’t drink my blood right? Because it wasn’t actually blood but rather Merihim.” he began.

She nodded slowly, “Go on…” she said.

“Well… after he changed back into Cernunnos my blood just became blood again… but…” he glanced to his side, nodding, “Cernunnos says that when he possesses me, he can do something that’ll change my blood into his but instead of killing vampires…” he scratched his chin, “Well, look he’s not one hundred percent sure this’ll work… but if it does… it means you might be able to survive sunlight.” he said.

Natasha stared at him, the vampiric girl letting those words sink in, “… truly? Nelen, do you mean that after almost seven centuries… I would no longer need fear the day?” she asked, disbelief clear in her voice.

Nelen frowned, “He’s not sure it’ll work on vampires… but it’s the best bet we’ve got. I say, after the sun comes up we give it a try.” he nodded.

Next Story

Previous Story

[scandinavianfairytale]

3 am

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Smoking, insomnia, mentions of nightmares, implied PTSD, a bit angsty and sad, meeting for the first time, soft Jake 💙

It has been happening more lately - Jake guessed it was one of those periods, not that there was something monumentally wrong with him. However, he knew that most of the people he knew would disagree. They'd say Navy fucked him up. Or something like that.

In a way it was true. While he like to boast about his kills...it kept him up at night. He guessed that in some fucked up way he was lucky - at least he never had to look someone in the eye and shoot him. To him the 5 jets he took down were just jets, he liked to pretend that there was actually no one inside them.

It was 3 am. Again. How did he manage to wake up at the exact same time regardless of the time he went to sleep? He rubbed his eyes and got up, staring at the city below him.

Only then did he see the light in your apartment. And then he saw you, sitting on the fire escape stairs, your legs dangling in the air as you stared at the city below just like him. But unlike Jake, your face sported a small smile.

He has seen you almost every time he woke up at 3 am these past few weeks. He liked to wonder about you, just by the way you were, he could imagine that you were odd...or was special a better word for it? Who stays up so late in the night by choice? He has seen you sitting on the stairs, dancing with your headphones on, painting, coming home after a night out. He felt like a stalker now that he thought back on it.

But tonight something was different. Tonight you met his eyes and you waved at him. Jake panicked, quickly turning off the bed side table illuminating the right side of his face.

Groaning loudly, he wanted to smack himself - so much for Hangman being so good he was almost too good to be true. He has never been this flustered before.

But then again...he was never caught doing something that the majority of the population found weird or worry-some.

Jake turned on the light back up and waved at you. You were now leaning back on your hands, smirking at the handsome man in the opposite building. You knew you caught him off guard. And his reaction was just too cute.

Pointing down at the street, you drew a question mark in the air and the cute guy blinked in confusion before giving you a thumbs up.

Jake quickly turned around and grabbed at his sweater and pants, checking his hair in the entryway mirror before calling the elevator, nervously drumming his fingers on his apartment key ring.

You on the other hand grabbed your cigarettes and casually strolled down the fire escape stairs, waiting for the man to show up. Your mother would have a field day with this - inviting a stranger for a meet cute outside of your home. How dare you?

He found you standing on the sidewalk of the big empty street, your cigarette almost done and you smiled, waving at him.

"So what is keeping you up?" You asked as you stomped on your cigarette and kicked it down the sewer.

"I don't know-" Jake shrugged his shoulders.

"Well that's a load of bullshit." Cocking your head a bit to the side, you observed him. He sported a few days shade and the circles under his eyes were prominent. "You seem like you've been having nightmares."

"What makes you an expert?"

"Well sorry to break it to you, but you look like shit." At that, the man scoffed. "There's nothing wrong with that. Everyone has nightmares and suffers from them. It's very normal. But whatever is pestering you, has been very persistent. It takes time to get those circles." You pointed at his eyes and Jake immediately put his hands over them.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't have to. But sometimes it's just easier to talk to strangers rather than admiting your problems to the people you know."

The man took a step back and you were sure he was going to walk away, but he sat on the pavement and looked up at you, waiting for you to do something. So, you sat next to him and he told you everything.

Jake was surprised that he voiced so much. He didn't expect anything from you, but then he felt your hand sneak around his shoulders and your body leaned on him. He relaxed into you.

"I'm Jake." He swallowed the lump in his throat, but he heard you whisper your name in return.

"I'm sorry I told you this."

"Don't be. This is some heavy weight that has been sitting on you. You should have a space to put it down and not carry it everywhere."

"Thank you." He turned his head to you. He found it funny how this set up might look like to someone observing you now, but then again, sitting here with you, he felt some kind of easiness take over him, one he hasn't felt in a long time and he didn't actually care how this looked like or what this exactly was. It felt right and it felt good. And he didn't want to move anytime soon. Even if it was 3 am.

Thank you for reading! 😊💙

The GIF doesn't belong to me - belongs to the talented creator ���😊

This was actually written at 3 am 😅 I couldn't sleep because of my cat that has been feeling moody and has been keeping me up at night 😑

[laceymorganwrites]

Post war: dating hcs

Uh this got a bit out of hand so I´m putting it under a cut. (characters are Jean, Levi and Reiner)

Jean:

You said you loved me but you threw me out in the garbage 

Now I´m starting to stink but everybody says I´m flawless

it´s fair to say that his dating life had changed the most drastically 

he used to be a hopeless romantic that was known for falling too fast and never having any luck with it

he had his head in the clouds and great aspirations

needless to say everything changed after the war

in a sense he got everything he always wanted

he was celebrated as a hero, he was one of the people who saved the world

and yet he didn´t take any pride in that

if it was four years ago he would´ve but he had changed a lot, like all of them did

it was all so shallow at this point

he could get everyone he wanted to but it didn´t mean anything

it all became worthless to him

no matter what a mess he becomes after the war everyone still looks at him like he´s the best

he has a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms and his life is horrible, he hasn´t slept well in over three years now

he doesn´t take care of himself, has distanced himself from all his friends and is just miserable overall

he is so annoyed by everyone who is coming onto him in hopes to get lucky

just so they can say they fucked one of the heroes who saved the world

because he wants to drive off those people his situation gets worse and worse, he purposefully gets lost in the misery and lashes out at anybody and anything

he doesn´t even want to date anyone anymore, romance is dead in his eyes

relationships are meaningless to him

but then he´s invited to Connie´s wedding and has to pull himself together

his friends haven´t forgotten about him, they didn´t even judge him, they were just concerned

they were the wake up call he needed

he cleaned himself up and showed up, he had a great time at the wedding, reuniting with everyone 

and he also got to meet you

you were a friend Connie met after the war and were excited to meet his other friends

of course you heard a lot about them but you didn´t really care about any of it, to you being a war hero wasn´t something to boast about

you knew yourself how horrible war was and never would think about believing anything about the honor bullshit

it was a badge of luck, luck that came with survivor guilt and the inability to live a normal life

you promised yourself to just talk to them normally but Jean immediately peeked your interest

he was just too handsome not to notice him

which is why you were surprised that nobody made any moves on him

he didn´t seem like a bad guy so you were even more curious now

Connie introduced the two of you and you two bonded over sharing embarrassing stories about him

at the end of the wedding you ask Jean to stay in contact, asking him to hang out more since he was a fun guy

and Jean agreed because that´s the first time someone has ever said that to him and actually meant it without any hidden intentions

casual and friendly hangouts turn into dates at a healthy pace, enabling him to finally enjoy and live in the moment

he still finds it strange how just one person could change his perspective 

he´s way too lucky since he gets to have the perfect relationship he´s always dreamt about with you

Levi:

Control me I don't own myself Just a product of your design

much like Jean his reputation precedes him

to him it isn´t anything new however

people always looked at him as a weapon and used him accordingly 

he fit in perfectly in this world and earned his respect and status

his view on dating didn´t change after the war

even before he never cared for any of that

Levi did date a few people when he was still living in the underground but he always got bored of them

then he dedicated his whole life to the survey corps and nothing else had space anymore

it was an empty and fulfilling life at the same time and because he didn´t know inner peace to begin with he didn´t have any regrets after the war

but because all of his closest friends are dead there still is this emptiness inside of him

it´s the worst when he´s in company of strangers who don´t know him but act like they do because he´s a war hero

Levi absolutely hates that term, fighting´s all he was ever good at and for and that´s why he despises it

especially after finding out about the truth he feels utterly lost

and now there´s no one there to guide him anymore

he´s always been lonely but it´s been a long time since he´s been utterly alone

he hates the pitying stares he gets because of his injuries, it´s humiliating to have to rely on others for daily chores 

ever since Gabi and Falco returned to their families and were finally able to live a normal life he´s been the nightmare of many nurses and hospital staff

not a lot of people can put up with him and his quirks

you´re the only one he tolerates at first

you don´t complain, you don´t ask stupid questions, you keep things clean and most importantly you neither pity nor glorify him

you´re just there to help when he needs it and he really does appreciate it 

over time he finds out that you´re very close with Gabi and Falco as you used to babysit them 

they were the ones who got Levi to the hospital when they found him

at first you were wary of him after everything they told you but he wasn´t arrogant as you would expect from humanity´s strongest soldier

before you there was just one broken man

and a part of you was relieved, if he was just some guy you could do your job

there were so many war veterans that made you want to quit with the way they acted and behaved but he wasn´t like that at all

in fact sometimes you wished he would speak more, you would like to get to know him

after his wounds have healed and he´s discharged he´s just wandering around town aimlessly

he doesn´t know where to go, he doesn´t really want to go back to Paradis, he doesn´t have anyone or anything left anyway

but he doesn´t belong here either

or so he thought

Gabi and Falco ask you if he can stay with you until he finds a job and his own place and you agree, taking pity in him

you could only imagine how hard it must be for him to resume with life after everything that happened

still, you didn´t think that Levi would get back into things so quickly

he tries to do everything on his own just the way he did before but obviously he can´t and that frustrates him

he absolutely hates it when you help him

but slowly he learns that it´s okay to rely on people again, that they won´t disappear this time, that yes, even after the war, he has the right to build a life for himself again

actually it is the first time he is allowed to be selfish 

Levi takes a long time to even fathom the idea of a romantic relationship, the feelings he experienced in his life have exceeded those of love by far and so he is a bit unsure on how to deal with your confession

because of course you would fall in love with him, maybe it was your savior complex or the way you saw life return to his tired and sad eyes, the way he would crack a smile and joke here or there, it was inevitable 

you didn´t like waiting around so you took your chance and just told him straight up you had feelings for him

Levi didn´t understand (and still doesn´t, but he appreciates it now) how that is even possible but he listens to you and is touched by your words

your confession does mean a lot to him and he doesn´t turn you down right away, however he does ask you to wait a little longer for his answer because you´ve become important to him and he needs to be sure he can give you what you´re looking for

it´s not even about his body at this point, he´s not ashamed anymore, it´s just that he´s so scared of being emotionally unavailable that he cna barely breathe

hell, he has to ask Jean out of all people for advice, but he did get a fiancee somehow so he thinks he could make an exception

it´s only when he sees how happy Jean is with his partner and how happy they both are for Levi that he himself realizes that the way Jean looks at his fiancee is the way you look at him

and that knowledge hits him hard, he feels his heart burst out of his chest

he....could have that too? this happiness? and it could be with you? the person who somehow raked their way so deep inside his heart he didn´t even notice it? the person he trusted the most? the person who knew him better than anyone else ever could?

he does agree to date you naturally but does warn you that he needs time to adjust to expressing his feelings, to letting them in in the first place

you´re over the moon and just seeing your reaction assures him that he made the right choice, he himself can´t help but grin and extend his hand to you

naturally you go to Jean´s wedding together and are bombarded with questions after the reception

Levi tries to be annoyed but even he can´t suppress the little smile that forms on his lips

Reiner:

I´d like to find my old self again but I´m still trying to find it

dating is literally the last thing on his mind after the war

he never has dated before and doesn´t plan to now either

realizing your whole life has been a while, you were responsible for hundreds and thousands of deaths and destruction and didn´t even know who you were fighting for

Reiner just feels utterly lost in life now that everything´s over

and he doesn´t even have a place to call home

he´s glad to be able to see Gabi and Falco at least, he wants to make sure they have a good life and a good remainder of their childhood

hell, he didn´t even know if he had any more years left to live but apparently the curse is broken now

a part of him is sad about it because in those years of uncertainty he was hoping for it to end, maybe a part of him would be redeemed that way

his friends have stayed with him throughout everything though and he still doesn´t understand why

they all have their own family and he doesn´t know how to react to their attention

now that everything´s over he feels even more than he did back then, actually he thinks about whether there was a time in his life where he was happy at all or if he would ever be happy again

his friends tell him it´s alright and that he will find his place, that they´re there for him at all times

to get back into things they help him find a good schedule and plan hang outs with everyone

Annie goes running with him, Levi out of all people helps him find a job

he takes Reiner with him for his monthly check up, he´s very close to being able to walk with just crutches now 

there Reiner meets his S/O as well who then introduces him to their colleagues while they´re doing the check up

you´re among them and he finds it surprisingly easy to talk to you

so much so that he talks to you about how scary he finds it how easy the people seem to have forgotten about his and his friends´ past crimes and forgave them so easily

´forgiving others is easy, forgiving yourself is the hard part. it´s no use getting stuck on the past when you´ve got so much longer to live´ you tell him 

somehow your words strike a cord within him and he does his best to actually forgive himself, it´s hard because he doesn´t want to, he doesn´t see a man in the mirror but a monster 

still, he tries and he slowly gets back into working

funnily enough he starts working at your parents´ shop so you see him more often now

your parents even invite him over for dinner once a week now which makes it hard for you

you know that Reiner needs time to work on himself before even thinking about dating but you find it so easy to fall for him

and your parents aren´t exactly subtle about it either, always pestering Reiner with questions if he had anyone special in his life and how long you have been single now

actually it´s in this conversation both of you realize that you´ve been holding yourselves back with stupid excuses

you work too much and Reiner is just a mess

but you realize that both of these things don´t stop a relationship from forming, after all in a good and functioning relationship you support each other, lift each other up 

´I´m flattered but I don´t think I´m good enough for you, you´re gonna get tired of me...and it won´t take long´ are his words when you tell him you want to give it a try

you take his fear away a bit by saying you´re just dating and that you´re just trying it for now, that he can always leave if it´s too much

and when after a year he doesn´t you make it official

it´s new to Reiner but he´s so happy to have you by his side because with you he finally found someone he can cry to and feel safe 

at the same time he is beyond proud of himself that he manages to take care of himself now, he can feel himself getting better slowly, day by day

to a point where he can open his own shop and work there, helping around town 

it´s certainly a nicer feeling to be depended on and needed in building things up rather than destroying them

and having you support him with everything, showing him the love he´s been missing his whole life, for the first time he´s genuinely happy

the relationship you have is something so precious and intimate to him he goes above and beyond to make sure you feel the same way

sometimes you have to slow him down and assure him you won´t leave him

definitely the type of guy to build a family with, he´s here to stay

Songs used as inspo: 

Flawless - Dorothy

Perfect Blue - softcult

All Too Well (Taylor´s Version) - Taylor Swift

[yandereloversblog]

Hello!!! I love your fics-

Can I request toy Bonnie with the Yandere emoji thing??

8🌑do they have any capacity for mercy?

24🦇 would/how do they use fear to control their crush?

14🌕 what is something that would really please them?

16🔨 what is an instant turn on for them?

37💚 best way to calm them down?

Thank you in advance!!<33

𝐓𝐨𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞

You're welcome <3 but I do love me writing some Toy Bonnie so thank you too XD

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 🌑 -> 𝚃𝚘𝚢 𝙱𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎

Yes he does have a capacity for mercy when it comes to you, thought it's very little it's there. Let's say something happened that's not exactly your fault; a random person now has a crush on you because you were a little nice to them. You might be at the end of Toy Bonnie's wrath verbally because he's a jealous and possessive little shit but he wouldn't exactly do anything to you when you're in private.

Now let's say you did something big; Like try to escape on your own, a plan and everything. But since that's obvious- maybe you fall in love with someone else, Toy Bonnie will end up breaking limbs, specifically YOUR limbs. Not only is he angry but he's also sad and he hates that combination so you WILL make him feel better by letting him do anything.

𝐔𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫 🦇 -> 𝚃𝚘𝚢 𝙱𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎

It's complicated to him, on one hand using fear means you won't be all over him because you'd be too scared to approach but on the other hand Toy Bonnie loves to see you tremble and gaze at him with scared eyes. Would he use it to control you though? It's not really needed when he actually can manipulate you [If you're weak minded]

But if you're actually super strong mentally and call Toy Bonnie out on that manipulative bullshit then yes, he will use fear to control you. The more you defy him the worse his patience gets and in return he'll want you to listen to him one way or another.

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 🌕 -> 𝚃𝚘𝚢 𝙱𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎

Praise, praise, praise -you'd think the man has a praise kink at this time-, Toy Bonnie LOVES it when you praise him, and when you do it in public too. Verbal affection is something he desperately needs from you, you might make it worse for the others because Toy Bonnie's ego will get even bigger but does it matter? Toy Bonnie is just as softer towards you now because he thinks you love him.

Other than praise there are gifts, but whatever gift there is please make sure you put a note and tell him how good he's doing or that you love him -he saves them all- the cards will be in a private stash somewhere and he boasts about the gifts but in reality he just loves the cards more.

𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐎𝐧 🔨 -> 𝚃𝚘𝚢 𝙱𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎

[I- I need a moment XD...] Like sexually?... I don't know why but Toy Bonnie strikes me as one to really like it when you wear something with him on it, design an outfit that has his name on the back? Yes. Seeing you walk around with hickeys on your neck that he did? Definitely -Man probably forced you to walk around like that too-

So I guess you publicly declaring, indirectly or directly, that you're his does the trick instantly.

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 💚 -> 𝚃𝚘𝚢 𝙱𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎

You see those ears? Pat them. When he's angry at someone all you have to do is start petting him and he calms down immediately after shouting death threats. But when he's angry at you make him uncomfortable by just creepily staring and not saying anything, you'll get Toy Bonnie to be confused then once you see an openinf hug him. You WILL get teased but he won't be on the verge of smacking your ass 3 feet away.

[bexalex]

"i lie for fun and then i feel bad," alex responds truthfully, knowing full well that his previous falsehoods will make it harder to believe him. it's part of the game, of keeping people guessing until it no longer becomes fun for him. it's his toxic character trait, or something. "honestly, it would have been way funnier for me if you didn't know english. you kinda ruined my joke," he playfully blames her for ruining all of his fun, though he really isn't missing out on much. the woman matches his energy, calling out his bullshit but still somewhat playing along with his jokes anyway. it's not unusual for alex to make quick friends, but this is certainly sooner than most.

she might be a little slow, though. judging by the way she seems taken completely off-guard by alex's suggestion that she should be paid more. he wonders how much a barista gig at this cafe actually pays if she's not at all worried about her finances. "okay, but people pay people big bucks to teach their dogs 'simple tricks,'" he flexes his fingers in air quotes around the phrase, obviously disagreeing with the barista-slash-trainer's assessment of her own ability. "you know at least a little bit about what you're talking about, because i sure as hell can't teach a dog to do shit and i'm a natural genius at just about anything." a grin is on his lips, the wild boast another obvious joke of his. maybe he believes it a little bit; alex has always been just a little too confident for his own good.

despite his playful, unserious nature, alex isn't a complete idiot. he notices the shift in the woman's expression when he mentions his boyfriend. in hindsight, he probably could have just called him sarang outright and no one would have suspected that his better half is also a man. oh well, the damage is done. to her credit, though, she doesn't say a word despite the way her brows raise just slightly. surprised, but not disgusted. alex decides that he made the right choice in trusting her with this information, at least for the time being. or maybe she is a raging homophobe who doesn't like to cause scenes—the very thought seems to be a wild contradiction, in alex's mind— and she's just pretending not to hear and ignoring the dreaded 'gay' of the man in front of her. that seems unlikely, though.

she seems way more concerned with getting mister mochi a home than she is with whoever alex decides to kiss behind closed doors anyway, immediately going back to pitching all the benefits of this dog in particular to alex. he's tempted, oh is he tempted. but he knows he'd be a total asshole if he just showed up with a super-shedder puppy with an unknown potential for destruction to a household he technically doesn't contribute to other than his charming personality and dashing good looks. maybe if the boys ever have the energy on one of their sundays off, he'll get them here to meet the dog before bringing it home... if no one else snatches mochi up first, after all.

"do you work on commission?" alex jokes, "if not, you should definitely go into sales. you're good at it." he sighs, a bit regretful as he gives mochi another good ear-scratch. "i really can't bring a dog home right now. i would, but i'd really make people mad at me. i... actually don't know if i'm technically allowed to have one. i should probably ask." ah, if only it were simple. but life so rarely is.

"natsuki," alex repeats the name, partially to lock it in his memory and also to make sure he's getting the pronunciation right. he only speaks two languages after all, and the woman's name is from one of the many others that he does not. "i might not be able to take home a dog but i will take you up on the sakura latte. is it pink?" he doesn't particularly prefer the color but he likes to pretend that he does sometimes; just another moment where alex lies for fun and no good reason.

when the stranger in front of her tells natsuki that he was lying about not being able to speak korean, all she can do is burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of his statement. what a weirdo. she thinks to herself as there really was no reason for him to lie, but maybe this was his way of playing a practical joke of some sort. who knows? it wasn't really any of her business. "you're silly, you didn't need to lie about that only to come clean about it later in the next sentence." she responds pointedly with a chuckle, rubbing mochi's belly who was happily sprawled out on the floor on his back, shaking one of his hind legs as his tail thumped rapidly against the wooden floor. another laugh escapes her lips when he makes a dick joke, this time more enthusiastic and she rolls her eyes. "wow, of course you did. why am i not surprised?" she asks sarcastically. although this was their first time meeting ever, she already felt comfortable enough to joke around with as he seemed like a pretty 'lax guy that was easy going.

"a raise? i never actually thought of that..." she repeats incredulously, and for a moment natsuki actually thinks about it. money wasn't exactly something she was desperate for as she was making a decent amount at the moment. sure, being a barista didn't pay her as much as her sponsors did, but she never actually wanted to work here for the money, it was the dogs that drew her in. she saw the time she spent with them as a reward or bonus for her serving and making drinks for people rather than it being extra work. "i don't think i do enough to deserve a raise-they're just simple tricks i'm sure anyone could do it! i'm flattered you think i know what i'm talking about though." she beams brightly, pride swirling in her chest at the fact that someone she just started talking to thought she was talented enough to be an actual dog trainer, which she definitely wasn't.

natsuki watches the man play with mochi, delighted at the sight in front of her when the stranger drops that he has a 'boyfriend' and her eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. not because he was in a relationship with a man, but because he boldly said it out loud....in korea, a country that was notorious for having traditional views and not being the most lgbtq+ friendly nation. however, more than anything she felt a little touched that he had felt comfortable enough to talk about his sexuality and relationship with her, especially when they had just met.

in order not to weird him out, natsuki refrains from asking any questions and instead hums in thought as she tries to remember all the facts she knew about shibas. after a brief pause, she continues "yeah they do shed quite a bit since they're double coated, especially during the spring and fall. however, shibas only really need to be brushed once or twice a month. just be careful around his tail!" her voice grew more excited at the prospect of mochi possibly finding a forever home, it was one of the reasons she loved her job and one of the things that would easily make her day. "another good thing about shibas is that they clean themselves a lot, so you don't have to give them a lot of baths. in fact, giving them too many is worse for them as it would mess with temperature regulation and skin. shibas may not be for everyone, especially first time dog-owners, however i think you'll do just fine since you've had a dog before right?" she probes, eyes shining with curiosity.

although she wanted mochi to find a home, natsuki wanted to make sure that this man actually knew how to take care of a dog and wasn't just looking to adopt one on a whim and beg to return him to the cafe or worse; re-home him irresponsibly to awful owners.

"well, since it's going to be cherry blossoms season we do have a few sakura themed drinks and desserts if you'd like to try them-my personal favourite is the sakura latte!" she flashes alex a genuine smile, her eyes forming little crescents when she responds with her own name "i'm natsuki, it's nice to meet you alex."

[prophelise]

the inarizaki househusband meetings

the inarizaki house husbands' meetings! what's going on inside these lavish meetings?

genre/warnings: comedy, constant bickering, good but spoiled husbands, that dream life™, fem!reader because girlboss

a/n: i remember seeing one blog writing about them as house husbands and I got inspired to write about it in my own way. Might make this into a series since I'm having fun with househusbands! Make sure to take care of yourself and stay hydrated, my roses!

buy me a coffee?

inarizaki m. | general m.

🥀 they have these meetings like once each week, so two times out of four things are gonna get a bit physical

🥀 these guys live in luxury, some of them are really spoiled rotten *ehem*suna*ehem*

🥀 just atsumu and osamu showing up there like: "'tsumu 🧍🧍" "' samu 🧍🧍"

🥀 yes these two are meeting like in an old western movie and staring each other down, like what is the issue 😕

🥀 those two making it a drama movie when bragging about their wives

🥀 meetings with them are a nuisance

🥀 osamu and atsumu about to tear the other husband's head off when the other says that their wife is better than his brother's. 🤼‍♂️

🥀 suna recording the bullshit and sending it to his wife, together with asking her for the new bag from prada

🥀 kita just casually sipping tea and talking calmly with aran

🥀 the more rowdy ones will possibly start a food fight with all the desserts they have at their little get-togethers like they're not afraid to get messy square up 😡

🥀 one time a martini slipped out off atsumu's hands and ruined his designer bag 😢😢 he was really sad and didn't know how to say it to his wife, but they bought him a new one 😇

🥀 kita's and aran's corner is very nice, well, compared to their juniors

🥀 yes, they married rich! get it girl 🤪

🥀 but they really got along even before it, not like the twins who end up fighting a lot, now they just feel their friendship as well as the genuine PRIDE for their wives

🥀 "you won't believe this, but my wife ended up opening up a new branch. It's so successful!" Aran boasted to Kita.

🥀 COUNTERATTACK 🤺🤺

🥀 "Oh really? Just last night, my wife got a call from a big investor. Turns out she's opening a new bussiness in America," Kita smiles foundly at the memory of your excited smile, he really couldn't be happier. Aran looks on in shock, Aran 0-1 Kita.

🥀 Once in a while, they bring their wives into the picture as well to make these meetings even more precious

🥀 The wives have no bad blood between them and even have a separate groupchat, though they do sometimes get dragged into antics of their husbands

🥀 While the wives are there, the househusbands feel a deep need and that is to make sure their significant others are having the time of their lives!

🥀 Osamu is here feeding them the newest desserts he got to try, Suna's telling all the good stories and gossip, Kita and Aran are offering up the best advice and comfort, Atsumu is there cracking jokes and making sure there's enough wine

🥀 good times ☺️

🥀 but once our good old rich and kind club turns around, it's a full on war AGAIN!!

🥀 immediately when they aren't observed they're sizing each other up, like yeah you can feed them cakes but can you give them such good advice as I can?

🥀 when it's over, the wives say their goodbyes absolutely elated from their meetings, they're very sure their career will flourish from the ideas they have heard and discussed today, blissfully unaware of the incident where Aran stepped onto Osamu's foot because he kept being too close with his wife

[8bitscarlet]

Witchcraft

Summary: You've found yourself falling deeper into a certain witch's spell. But no matter how strong the magic is, it seems that the two of you just keep missing each other.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Angst/Fluff (minor cussing)

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This is a fic for @marvelxreaderfanfictionfest writing exchange. This one is for @mrsromanoff and the prompt: "I can't keep kissing strangers and thinking they're you." Hope you like it!

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours.*

________________

You never thought your three month assignment with the Avengers would've extended as long as it has. Missions went by with minimal injuries and maximum wins. You found yourself settling well into the chaos of the compound; the echoing boasts of Thor, the competitive edge of Danvers and the snark between Romanoff and Stark. When your three months were up, it wasn't a surprise to anyone that you immediately signed the contract from Stark, an official placement on the team.

Despite all of the alien blasters, Hydra experiments and Tony's benefit parties, nothing could've prepared you for a single person to rock your world. It started innocently enough; stolen glances at meals and ensuring you two were on the same mission team. As time continued, things turned less innocent; sneaking off during charity balls to suck face in the broom closet, you could recall a few times you were nearly caught in the back of the Quinjet. There was something about this woman. The way her fingers slithered through your hair, how those green eyes made your heart say yes, she stripped you bare.

You had convinced yourself it was witchcraft. It had to be.

Sitting with your cheek pressed against your fist, you find yourself doodling as Steve drones on in the background. Someone nudges you and as you turn, Wanda raises her brows when your eyes connect. With a groan, you raise the pen in your hand. Steve notices, stopping his spiel to look at you with a clenched jaw.

"With all due respect, Cap, we all got in at four this morning. Do we need a recap of the mission right now?"

Steve sighs, glancing at everyone and seeing them agreeing with you. You all had barely had time to unpack, let alone write your after action reports.

"Alright, Y/N. We'll go over how your pants tore mid-fight on Monday."

You point your pen at him, warning him as you watch his stupid smile fill his face. Bucky slaps your shoulders in gratitude, picking up Alpine onto his shoulders as he strides out to find Sam. Wanda's fingers gently brush yours as you walk side by side, sending an electric charge through your body.

"You know, when someone says 'with all due respect,' they really mean, 'kiss my ass'." Wanda glances at you with a sly smile.

Walking backwards towards the couch, you outstretch your arms with a grin, "Because that's what I meant, darling."

Chuckling, you roll over the back of the couch and plop down onto the cushions, your head landing perfectly on a pillow. Wanda lets out a scoff, knowing how many times it's taken you to actually land on the cushion and not the floor.

Flipping through the pages of her book, you watch her through half-closed eyes. A year ago you'd be asking what she was reading. A year ago, she'd curl up with you and explain it all. A year ago, you didn't have guilt eating at you.

Things a year ago were more than good between you. There might have even been a chance beyond friends with benefits. You knew you wanted that. Every time you looked at her, you couldn't stop your pounding heart or the warmth that grew in your stomach.

But you were stupid.

Chickening out every chance you had to ask her on an actual date rather than sneaking around to make her moan. You both had set ground rules, no strings attached. If it got too messy, you both had to call it quits. So, you convinced yourself it was better to quietly love her and keep her, than to tell the truth and lose her.

That was before the year long mission with Carol and Bucky. Before you realized how big of a mistake it was two months in. Before every day texts and video chats diminished to every other week, then every other month. Before you got back to the compound and saw her kissing up on some random benefactor at the Welcome Home Party. It was definitely before she started dating that walking toaster, Vision.

Luckily, he hadn't been around much the past month so watching them kiss and stare into each other's eyes was doable, mostly because you turned whenever you saw that stupid spark plug.

Four months since coming home, you've tried to fill the void the witch had created in your body, your soul. You went out with Carol and Bucky, prowling the town and the bar. Matching shot for shot some nights, waking up in random apartments other nights. Eventually Bucky did what you never did.

He asked Sam on a date and that left you and Carol. Until she started hooking up with Maria and dragged her along so you wouldn't be hitting the bars alone. You had made yourself a pity case.

"Do you need something?" Wanda cocks a brow at you, making a face at your prolonged staring.

You clear your throat, feeling the heat rush through your face, "You look a little sunburnt."

With a shrug and a chuckle, Wanda bookmarks her page as she places it down on the coffee table. Standing, she sits down on the couch, your body automatically scooting over to accommodate her. Holding out her red and glowing hand, you watch her pull off her rings, displaying the radiating tan lines running up and down her fingers. A laugh escapes you as you feel her hand slap against your chest.

"I didn't have anyone to put sunscreen on me!" She groans, "It burns!"

You guide your finger gently down her exposed arm, pressing in slightly to her warm skin. As you lift, you see the true color of her skin before it's bombarded with the glowing red of her burn. Glancing up, her green eyes watch you carefully, both of you not acknowledging the weight of her hand still on your chest.

"An aloe vera massage would do wonders," You whisper, "And I'm all out."

With a roll of her eyes, she leans back into your legs, "You really are a pain in my ass, y'know? When I tell people about you, that's the first thing I say."

Watching her float the remote to her awaiting hand, you grin, "Oho, so you're telling people about me, huh?"

"Please, check the ego there."

For the next moment, the two of you sit peacefully in each other's silence. Wanda was one who clung to those she trusted. When you came back, it was like she had superglued herself to you any time you walked into the room. It didn't help that you were still madly in love and she was taken.

Right now though, you watch her delicate fingers play with yours. Her eyes squinting with laughter as she watches her sitcoms, glancing to see if you're laughing as well.

A commercial echoes through the living room and Wanda lets out a sigh for attention, patting your thigh as she drops your hand. You don't move it as it lands atop her thigh, only gently stroke your thumb against the silky skin you wish could press against yours. Letting out a noise that you're both awake and paying attention to her, she glances over at you.

"Since you got Captain America to actually give us a free weekend, what's your plan tonight, casanova?"

You shrug, "I have early training with Bucky and-."

Wanda moves her whole body to face you, your hand slipping from her thigh as confusion spreads across her face. She lets out an unbelieving scoff,

"You're joking. You used to show up half drunk to training and still kick ass."

She's watching you carefully and you try to keep a neutral look on your face, she knows all of your quirks. Glancing up at her with a small grin, you pull your legs into you. Shifting yourself, you sit properly on the couch and run your hands through your hair.

"Just don't want to go out tonight. It's boring." You chuckle, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

Wanda rolls her eyes, "Why, no one catches your eye anymore?"

Another playful nudge and you sigh. All this playful teasing, these light touches. She has to know what she's doing.

Trying to keep a steady and nonchalant shrug, you shake your head,

"No one out there."

And you might've gotten away with it. Instead, you fell into the magnetic pull of those green eyes that cause you so much trouble. As your eyes land on hers, you can see the dilation within her pupils. Then the realization across her face. Her playful grin falls as she stares at you, blinking slowly.

"Y/N," She says slowly, "If you're doing what I think-."

You stand up quickly, your feet taking you to the other end of the coffee table. In two days you'll be gone and you'll be back in the place you hate being in right now. Placing your hands on your waist, you look up from your tapping foot.

"Wanda, I can't keep kissing strangers and thinking they're you."

Silence meets your face. You watch her as she slowly nods at you, "That's exactly what you're doing."

Groaning, she slides her fingers through her hair, pinning it from her face. Wanda lets out a careful breath before looking up at you, "What happened to no strings?"

Slapping your hands against your thighs in frustration, you let out a scornful chuckle, "Come on, Wanda. You know those rules were bullshit! No strings means not going on exclusive trips to museums and restaurants!" You watch her eyes flicker around the room, trying to find a way to disprove what you're saying. "It means not staying up all night when the other is sick!"

Wanda stands up quickly and you can see the look on her face, she knows what you're getting to. Waving her hand to get you to shut up, she tries to get to the stairs but your words blurt from your mouth,

"It means not falling in love!"

Her feet stop carrying her towards the stairs, her body frozen in the middle of the compound. Carefully, you step towards her, leaning ever so slightly to try and catch her eyes. They're glazed over from your confession, trying to understand the implications.

"I left. I..." You suck in a shaky breath, "I thought it would be easier if I wasn't here. You were so adamant about no strings, Wands. I broke the only rule, why would I stay?"

Her head jerks back at your words, her brows furrowing deeply down her face. Without another second to keep talking, Wanda's feet pivot as she shoots a finger into your face. You jerk away from her advance, seeing the growing mist within her eyes as she shouts,

"That's why you left?"

The crack in her voice sends one through your heart.

She turns quickly, her hands violently wiping at the tears that have broken free. You clench your brows. She's angry at you? You're the one who's had to watch her prance around with Vision, you just a memory of romance. Just before she can grab her bag and leave, you call out,

"Well, you seem to have fared better than me!"

As the words leave your lips, you bite down hard and shut your eyes. A surprised choke exits Wanda's throat as she throws her purse back onto the side table, knocking over the decorative bowl of rocks. They scatter across the ground but she doesn't notice, all of her rage is pointing at you. Her fingers run violently through her auburn hair, looking like she wants to rip it out.

"You are infuriating!" She jabs a fingers at you, "Why think that?! Because I'm dating Vision? He's filling a void, dumbass!"

Her words stab into you as her stomps draw nearer, you can feel the heat of her anger. She's not done, she's not letting you off easy.

"Every time he touches me, every time he kisses me. God, Y/N! All I can see is your dumb face."

Wanda's heavy breath washes over you as she finally stops her assault, so close you can see the blue in her green eyes. Her body radiates out to you and you have to force your hands into your pocket to not grab her and kiss her. Your eyes dip to her lips but you see sadness that has quickly replaced the facade of anger. Making a small fist, she slams it into your chest as her head bows. Her arm slides down your body, hanging limply at her side as she looks to you.

"Why didn't you talk to me?"

Wanda's fingers twitch forward, wanting to grab onto you. You sigh, taking your hands from your pockets and resting them on your waist. Your confession was supposed to be more romantic than this. Instead, you brought up issues you both were trying to ignore. You were angry now at yourself, taking it all out on the person you loved. You'd spent too long with all of this pent up emotion though, and it was all pouring out in waves.

"I have to finish my requisition forms. Get my gear ready."

You don't have to look up to know what face Wanda is making at you. It's the same face she had when you left the first time. The way her brows clenched together in disbelief, the pain behind her reddened eyes that threatened to spill more tears, how her chin trembled as she tried to breathe.

Her voice barely passes a whisper but standing so close, you hear every broken syllable, "You're leaving again."

You sigh, rubbing your throbbing temples as you feel your nose stuff up.

"You drop all of that on me and you're just going to turn around and leave?"

Shaking your head, you want this conversation to end. It's obvious where she is and it's not next to you.

"Don't you have a date or something?" You ask.

Wanda's been around you too long to not see exactly what you're doing. She lets out a chuckle, a lethal look in her eyes.

"No, you're right. And that date seems a hell of a lot better than this." Without another word, she snatches her purse from the table and starts to climb the stairs, leaving your feet frozen. Just as she reaches the middle of the staircase, she stops. You can feel her stare burning into you and as you look her way, you wish you hadn't.

"You're a coward."

Those words burn into your brain, rising through your ears and torture you for the rest of the day. The only thing you could think to do was slam your fists into the closest thing. The punching bags. People came and went, eyeing you try and punch away your frustrations to no avail. When the sun finally had sunk below the horizon, one Avenger had enough of your pity party.

"You know she's right." A voice comes from behind you.

You don't respond to them, just dodge the swaying bag. They walk into the room, stopping just inside of your peripheral.

"You're an idiot, you know."

With a chuckle, you sidestep the bag, "You need to be a little more specific."

"You're losing her again."

Another punch, "Uh huh."

Carol sighs next to you, "And you sent her away on her date."

"Yup."

She steps in front of the bag, stopping its movement and stares at you with determination in her eyes, "And you're not going after her?"

Avoiding her stare, you start to unwrap your hands, wiping at the sweat that pours down your face. Stopping, you can feel the cramp in your side and the throbbing of your knuckles. Chucking the wrap, you let out a shrug,

"Is there a point?"

Carol shoves the bag into you, grabbing your attention, "I am not going on another mission with you while you sulk. Do you know you talk in your sleep? Yeah. Guess what name I heard that whole year?"

You shake you head, licking your chapped lips as you search for water, "She didn't say it back."

You hear an exasperated chuckle from Carol, "Y'know Y/N, I'm going to go on a limb and say she wasn't expecting all of that to be thrown in her face."

Shooting her a glare, she keeps talking, "I'm saying this once. If you think this is going to be some cheesy Rom-Com where she bursts through those doors and confesses her love, you're more of an idiot than I thought." A finger jabs hard into your chest as you grimace, "You need to fix this."

Carol leaves you there with your head filled with more thoughts than before. Wanda was happy with Vision wasn't she? She hadn't talked about him much but you knew she had to be. Who were you to go and screw that up?

Night turned into morning and after staring up at your ceiling, you knew you weren't getting any sleep.

Sneaking down the stairs, you see everyone is still asleep. You take the opportunity to sit in more silence and wait for the coffee machine to finish steaming. The sun was just beginning to shine its red hues into the kitchen as you stood at the counter, twirling your empty mug. Lost in thought, you failed to hear the padding of feet coming down the stairs.

"I thought you had early training."

With a quiet chuckle, you lean into the counter, "You caught me."

In silence, you watch the witch pour in her coffee. The same amount of creamer and sugar every time, the same motions every morning since you've noticed her. Turning, she sees your mindless fingers twisting and turning your empty mug. Wanda raises her brows and holds out her hand,

"Refill?"

You hand over the mug and watch her work her magic on the black liquid, turning it into the caramel drink you love. Breathing in deeply, you watch the bubbles swirl around the liquid. You furrow your brows,

"I can never make mine taste-."

"We broke up."

Her words slam into you, your breath catching inside of your throat. Looking up, Wanda stands there in the middle of the kitchen, unsure if she had truly spoken or not. She looks up at you, her mouth closing as she realizes she doesn't know what she's doing.

"What? Wands, are you okay?" You start to stand to go and comfort her, you know they had a date yesterday. Did the son of a microwave hurt her?

Wanda's hand rises, stopping you in your tracks before she takes a quiet breath, "We broke up almost a month ago, Y/N."

Nodding at your obliviousness, you knock your knuckles against the counter as you press your lips into a thin line, "We're both liars then."

"Tell me you lied about the mission," She whispers, leaning into the counter. Her fingers laying gently across yours.

Your chest constricts as you sigh, "I didn't."

You watch her sullen nod, curling hair falling out of her messy bun as you gently graze your thumb across her knuckles. She quietly chuckles,

"We just missed each other."

Stopping your thumb, you clench your jaw. This isn't going to happen again.

"Wanda," You whisper, listening to the sad hum she gives you as she glances up with bloodshot eyes, "I'm sorry. I was scared and... I was an idiot."

Wanda pats your hand with a loud sniff, "I appreciate it, but-."

She doesn't continue. She doesn't want to believe that you're leaving. The love you feel wouldn't be strong enough to survive that time apart again. There's broken support beams and one thing will send it falling down. A far away mission isn't the nurturing this budding feeling needs.

Wanda tries her best to flash you a grin, "Let me teach you how to make coffee."

Before she can turn, you grab her hand quickly, "I'd prefer if you made it."

As you walk around the counter, you gently rest a hand on her waist, watching her carefully. Her handgrips your arm tightly, words stuttering from her lips as she tries to remind you that she's not going. You're leaving her again.

Without hesitation, you press your lips against hers, feeling her breath wash over you in a sigh. You pull her in tighter, leaning your head back to speak,

"Sam's going stir crazy. He can have it."

A smile tugs at your lips as you see her furrowed brows on her face, you place a kiss at the center of the wrinkles, pulling back to see the scrunching of her nose. A scrunch just for you.

"Wanda Maximoff. I love you. And I'm not losing you twice."

Without warning, her lips smash against your as she wraps her arms around your shoulders as you hoist her up. Wanda's legs wrap around you as both of you are smiling so wide that you can't kiss properly. Feeling her cold hands press gently against your face, you look into those green eyes that complete you life.

"I love you." Wanda whispers as her witchcraft wraps around you once more.

[dear-galileo]

blushing all the way home

happy first day of buddie week! thanks to @dailybuddie for setting up this awesome week :) 

these fics will also be posted on my ao3, which is deargalileo

Day 1: Did I make you blush? | Rivals

Buck is very pleased when he discovers how easily he can make Eddie blush. Eddie is not as pleased. 

2.5k words

read it here on ao3

Considering the long shifts that the 118 team pulls, and the amount of time outside of work that they spend together, it is incredible to think that they have never run out of things to talk about. 

It’s incredible until you meet Evan Buckley, and then you realize that it is more impossible to reach the end of random facts that he stores, rather than running out of things to say. 

The team is used to this, and most of the time allow themselves to get pulled into a random conversation about the history of a chef’s hat (technically called a toque, and the pleats in the hat represents the chef’s level of experience), or discussing how the odds of getting a royal flush in poker are exactly 1 in 649,740, which led to a station-wide, multi-day poker championship.

So when Hen and Chimney entered the locker room and found Buck furiously reading something off of his phone, they weren’t surprised when he showed them a website that boasted “39 Fun Flirting Facts”. 

“Do I even want to know what instigated this?” Hen asks, settling on one of the benches.

“Studies show that flirtatious people have whiter blood cell counts, which improves health and immunity,” Buck recites in lieu of a real answer. 

“Oh good, so you’ll live forever,” Eddie came out from the showers, pulling a t-shirt over his head. 

“So the good ol’ Buckley charm made it through up to Buck point one-oh- what version are you on?”

“Hey, Hen! Did you know the word lesbian comes from the Greek island Lesbos, where the poet Sappho wrote her poetry about her female lovers?” Hen rolls her eyes, but nods obligingly. 

“Yes, I did know that, Buckaroo. Literally every lesbian on Earth knows that. Thank you for bestowing your wisdom onto me.” 

Eddie comes to sit down next to Buck, trying to read his phone over his shoulder. 

“Some of these has to be bullshit. Women are more likely to give out their phone numbers on sunny days as opposed to cloudy days?” Hen nods in agreement while Chimney sticks his finger up. 

“No, I’m pretty sure that one is correct! Something about hormo-“

“Finish that sentence and I’ll have Maddie kick you in the crotch,” Hen interrupts, leveling Chim with a stern look. He smiles sheepishly and goes back to reorganizing his locker.  

“Since ancient Greece, the apple has been a symbol of love. They believed that apples represented love because it lasted so long after being picked.” 

“That one’s kind of sweet,” Chim says. “Think Maddie would want an apple for Valentine’s Day?” 

Buck went over to his locker, riffling through while the others chatted amongst each other. 

“Karen and I both tried to get Valentine’s Day off for next year, you know, ask in advance, but she can’t, so we might do a weekend trip sometime in February to make up for it.”

“Ugh, that’s two months away,” Eddie groans. “Let us get through Christmas first, please.” They all chuckle.

“Got any Christmas facts for us, Buck?” Chim asks, before Buck slams his locker shut and plops down right next to Eddie. 

“Here.” Out of nowhere, Buck is holding a red apple out towards Eddie. “I think we could live apple-ly ever after.” 

Eddie immediately felt his face go up in flames as Hen and Chim dissolved into a mess of laughter. Buck was clearly trying to hold back a smile as well, but he was looking so deeply into Eddie’s eyes that Eddie couldn’t look away.   

“Oh my god, did I make you blush?” Buck finally broke, eyes flickering all around his face. 

Eddie rubs at his neck, as if he could wipe away the pink tint rapidly rising. “You are!” Buck crows, practically vibrating on the bench next to him. “See? I’ve got game!” 

“Buck, you once stole a firetruck to have sex with someone, no one here doubted that you have game,” Hen says, but Buck ignores her. Eddie bats Buck’s finger from where he was trying to poke his cheek away. The apple sat long forgotten on the bench between them.

“Shut up,” Eddie wiped at his face before standing up. “I think I hear Cap calling me,” and he is out of the locker room before anyone can point out that Bobby is in his office completing paperwork. 

“Not that watching that wasn’t incredibly interesting,” Hen says, standing up herself. “But I am going to go do literally anything else.” 

“Hey, that sounds like a great idea, I’ll go do that too with you,” Chimney pipes in, and before he knows it, Buck is alone in the locker room, but even that doesn’t take the smile off of his face. After a few more moments pass, he scoops up the apple and takes a big bite out of it. “Tastes like love to me.”

The rest of the day is like a game to Buck- and Eddie knows that even if he tried he couldn’t resist. The two are usually always tied up together, shoulders or knees knocking as they sit at the dinner table, opting to sit next to each other on the couch in between calls rather than taking their own loveseats, and always, always, having each others backs. 

But now, Buck is doing it with intent. When he hovers behind Eddie while Eddie is restocking the ambulance, he knows that Buck is fully aware of what he’s doing to him. Buck’s hot breath on the back of Eddie’s neck would be enough to get a rise out of him, but the gentle caress of Buck’s hand on the back of Eddie’s elbow is nearly enough to make him go weak in the knees. 

Buck takes every sign of any color in Eddie’s cheeks as a win, with frequent reports back to the team. Eddie is pretty sure Hen knows what’s going on in Eddie’s mind, if the sympathetic looks she sends him from across the room mean anything.

“Eddie, Eddie, come here,” Buck chants, dragging him away from the truck after Eddie spent ten minutes cleaning just one tire. “I have to show you something.” 

“What?” Even though he’s a bit annoyed by the game, Eddie can’t deny the thrill that goes up his spine every time Buck lingers this close, or when their eyes lock in the intense way that they do. “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!” Buck changes his chant as Bobby walks out onto the main floor. Eddie dutifully allows himself to be dragged along in Buck’s grasp. 

“Are you still torturing Eddie?” Bobby asks without looking up from his clipboard. 

“Maybe.” Buck answers completely seriously before charging ahead. “But I want to show you this cool trick. Look, look, look.” 

Eddie liked these types of days. When the calls didn’t burden them, follow them back to the station and then to their homes. And Buck helps with that, even if he doesn’t realize it. His energy was so infectious, that he couldn’t even fathom someone being around him and not immediately enamored. 

His mind briefly flickers to the times where Buck wasn’t in the station, couldn’t be, and how foreign laughter became during those times. 

Eddie physically shakes his head, banishing those thoughts from his head as Buck pulls him to stand in front of Bobby. 

Bobby looks at them, trying to act like he isn’t amused already. “So?” 

“I learned this in middle school.” Buck starts, which Eddie privately thinks that is a terribly ominous prelude, before turning to Eddie. “Want to play a game?” 

“Uh- what game?” 

“It’s easy!” Buck is so bright- sometimes it is simply too painful to look at him directly, but Eddie lets himself bask in the warmth. “It’s called Counting Shoulders.” He turns back to face Bobby, so his shoulder is pressed right against Eddie’s. Buck is on Eddie’s left side, an unspoken agreement about their arrangement since they became partners. 

First he brings his right arm up to his own shoulder, pressing down on it in an exaggerated way. “One,” he moves onto his right shoulder, repeating the motion. “Two,” Buck then seamlessly transitions to Eddie’s left shoulder. “Three,” and before Eddie can process it, Buck’s arm is hanging around his shoulder in a familial, affectionate way. “Four! Good job!”

Buck doesn’t move his arm from Eddie’s shoulder, and a beat passes with him smiling, obviously very pleased with himself.

The moment is broken by Bobby snorting loudly, and dropping his head into his hand. “And that worked for you, in middle school? he asked.

“It’s working for me now!” Buck cried, gesturing to what Eddie knew had to be the furious blush that was across his face. “Look!”

Eddie could only face palm just as Bobby had, hoping his hands could hide his face from everyone in the station.  “You are insufferable,” he says just loud enough for Buck to hear him, but that only makes Buck laugh.

Eddie’s saving grace was the alarm ringing, but even then Buck’s arm lingered just a moment longer before it was gone and they were heading into the trucks.

Eddie was thankful that it was only a 10 hour shift- after today, going home would feel like a small mercy. His skin might feel like it was burned for it’s state of constant heat, thanks to a certain blond who’s name rhymes with Fuck.

Speaking of Fuck- he means Buck- he was following Eddie into the locker room. Hen and Chim were on the shift for a couple more hours, so they bid their goodbyes after the last call.

Even though he had gone through the constant teasing all day, he still felt nothing but relaxed when they walked into the locker room.

“Picking up Chris from school today?” Buck asks, opening up his locker and pulling out his change of clothes. “He will be excited to see you.”

“More like he will be excited to see his Buck,” Eddie corrected. “Movie night, remember?” Buck beamed in the way that he always did when he was referred to as Christopher’s Buck.

“As if I could forget!”

There was a lull in the conversation as they stripped out of their clothes. Eddie had his clean t-shirt over his head when he heard a low whistle coming from about three feet away.

Eddie rips his head through the shirt, glaring at Buck. “Did you just wolf whistle at me?”

“How could I not! Those abs, dude!”

“Can you really call me dude while flirting with me?”

“Clearly I can.” As if to prove his point, Buck let his eyes stare down Eddie from head to toe.

Eddie couldn’t miss a minute of it, the way that Buck looks at his eyes, the way his eyes lingered over his chest, and by the time that Buck’s eyes dropped lower, Eddie twists up his dirty shirt and snapped it out at Buck.

Buck shrieked and jumped out of the way, but he was already laughing.

“You are making dinner tonight,” Eddie tried to say in a menacing voice, but it clearly didn’t work when Buck just smiled fondly and rolled his eyes.

“Wasn’t I going to do that already?” Eddie snapped his shirt out one last time, for good measure.

“Shut up.”

Chris was, as predicted, very excited to be picked up by Buck. Technically, Eddie was there too, but he sat in the truck while Buck leaned on the outside.

Chris had excitedly explained to all of his teachers that “his Buck” was there to pick him up, which Eddie thought was going to make Buck cry.

It didn’t, and once Christopher was buckled into the truck, they launched into a rambunctious conversation about Christopher’s day at school.

At home, Eddie got Christopher started on homework while Buck puttered around.

At some point over the years that they had known each other Buck and Eddie have built a domestic routine in Eddie’s home.

Eddie didn’t mind. He liked it a lot, in fact. He liked Buck fitting into his home, Eddie’s home becoming Buck’s home, too.

Buck handled most of dinner, as he did most nights that he spent at the Diaz’s. Chris helped him mix the meatloaf mixture, and watched it slowly cook in the oven.

After Chris helped set the table, Eddie had him sit down.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else I could help with?” Eddie tries, not for the last time. Buck hip checks him, bumping him out of the way of the oven.

“No. I’m worried you will blow up the oven by looking at it too hard.” Christopher giggles, but Eddie lets himself be pushed out of the way with little fight.

“Hot stuff, hot stuff!” Buck crows, pulling the meatloaf out of the oven. “Move out of the way, hot stuff!” He hipped checked Eddie again, before safely putting the meatloaf down on the table.

That sent Chris into hysterics again, and Eddie vaguely had the notion of putting his head into his hands and screaming.

Instead he looked at Buck. Buck was looking like a kid who had just gotten away with stealing cookies from the cookie jar, just pleased as punch.

“You are so stupid,” he tries to say quietly, but Chris oooh’ed softly, so it wasn’t quiet enough. “Christopher, please turn around.”

“Aw, dad!”

Eddie moves to Chris’s chair, and moved it so he was facing the wall, sending Christopher into another fit of giggles.

As quickly as he could, Eddie moves back to Buck, stepping into his space and crowding him back against the counter.

“I seriously can’t take this anymore,” Eddie whispers before pulling Buck into a kiss.

It wasn’t tender, or heated, and was cut into by Christopher’s nonstop giggles from ten feet away, but Eddie couldn’t bring himself to care.

Buck was smiling into the kiss, Eddie could practically taste the laughter on his lips, but he was so giving, so warm, and Eddie knew that he could lose himself in those lips easily.

He forces himself to pull away, even when Buck tries to follow his lips.

“Ew! You guys kissed!” Christopher- who had managed to wiggle his chair back around- yells, breaking them out of their moment.

Buck laughs and presses one more kiss to Eddie’s lips before stepping it away. “I had it coming, Superman. I was basically asking for it all day.”

As Eddie sat down across Buck at the dinner table, watching him serve up Christopher with food before himself, Eddie let himself smile. Buck caught his eye and smiled back, and gently tangled their feet together underneath the table.

“He was,” Eddie finally muses. “Your Buck is a pretty bad flirt.”

“Hey! It worked, didn’t it?” Buck retorts. Eddie rolls his eyes, but he had to nod.

“I guess it did.”

[rjalker]

yeah that was one of the first things I figured out after I realized I was nonbinary. Like I was like "okay so what do transmasc and transfem mean?" and I was told that transmasc means "if you're removing boobs/want a hysterectomy or anything like that you're transmasc regardless of your gender identity since it's just a neutral term to describe your transition goals"

So I was like oh okay! Since I don't want boobs that means I'm transmasculine, okay!

But then I went into the "transmasculine" tag and..........yeah, no, it's not at all a gender neutral term used only to describe your transition goals. It's quite literally just for trans men and nonbinary people who identify with or "align" (I still don't know what that means) themselves with masculinity. That is not gender neutral. That is not an all inclusive term.

So immediately after figuring out can just be neither a man nor a woman, I am immediately told, "Well, actuall, no, you do have to let us shove you into a binary box, but this time we're going to pretend it's Progressive and Enjoyable instead of oppressive!"

And like, even the trans flag helps to reinforce this idea that the only two options are man or woman or "aligning" with one of those. Like yeah, in theory the white stripe is for people who aren't men or women, but practically? No, that's just a blank empty white space that's only there to separate the other stripes. That's why it's so easy for transmedicalists and other exorsexists to claim that nonbinary people can't be trans.

This is why I call myself transnonbinary specifically to push back against this bullshit, and why I do call myself trans. Specifically to piss off exorsexists who want to say I can't be. Might even start calling myself transsexual to piss them off even more >:) (since I know for a fact that some of the people bringing back transsexual are doing it specifically because they're transmedicalists trying to "relegitimize" their "disorder". I saw one of them boasting about it last year)

Especially because I just learned a day ago that transgender was literally created specifically to include genderqueer and nonbinary people. The irony that exorsexists now want to claim that nonbinary people have never been and can't be transgender is absurd.

So just picture that meme of the person in hell fighting demons. The demons are the exorsexists, the person fighting is me yelling "I'm trans, I'm not a man or a woman or masculine or feminine, deal with it or die mad about it!"

me: *selecte bigender role in discord server*

discord server: *gives me access to transmasc and transfem channels*

me: i'm maverique and xenogender, wtf am i meant to do with this

bigender doesn't only mean man+woman or masc+fem, not everyone has to be related to the binary, you know?

[proffbon]

Quackity and Schlatt - The Doomed Lovers

This relationship is a joke. No, I’m serious. It’s a bit. Take the “romantic” side of the relationship out and almost nothing in canon changes, because their story wasn’t about love at all. But anyway, I digress. Something being “a bit” is not a really good excuse when things come to Dream SMP, is it? So please, humor me for a second as I try to apply serious narrative analysis to this mess of a relationship. 

I warn you, even jokes and bits will be used for characterization, on both sides, even chill streams, even old pre-heavy roleplay ones. 

So please, enjoy.

(Everything is /rp /dsmp obviously)

“I would kill for that thrill of first love“

Not a lot of people know or remember about Schlatt and Quackity being in a relationship before the election. As most of the things about these two did, this started as a joke, a bit. But if we consider that later the characters make references to this relationship and considering that this is where they got their “sugar pumpkin sweetie cupcakes” bullshit from we have to admit that to some extent it was canon. As it was very chaotic I will try to explain the general idea of it.

Schlatt and Quackity were on friendly terms, they joked, engaged in friendly bickering and generally just hung out. Schlatt was actually trying to help Quackity find a girlfriend or at least kept him company in the process. At some point, they started flirting with each other, nothing serious, a pet name here, a suggestive comment in Spanish there. The whole pet name deal actually started out as a way to try and annoy each other but ended up becoming a bonding activity.

Later on, as Quackity was still on the lookout for a girlfriend for himself, Schlatt mentioned his girlfriend, Alexandra Botez, who at the time won his Love or Host. Quackity immediately accused him of cheating because of it. They’ve barely “dated” at this point so Schlatt was confused on how he “cheated” while they were never officially in a relationship. Quackity said that calling each other cute names was enough confirmation of their love. They both got progressively annoyed with each other and ended up in a messy breakup, during which Schlatt, as he always does, took things too far, he started boasting about his girlfriend in an attempt to hurt the other man while Quackity tried to make Schlatt believe that he has one too, but ultimately kept trying to bring Schlatt back. Quackity was left distraught but saw this as an opportunity to find a new girlfriend, a “new Schlatt”. He clearly hasn’t fully moved on.

This miscommunication (to put it lightly) becomes the underline of their “love”. For Quackity any display of affection, however small, is a sign of love and adoration, while for Schlatt it’s just a fun thing to do. Schlatt has flings while Quackity yearns for a relationship. Schlatt needs specific confirmation while Quackity makes it “official” at the slightest hint of sympathy.

This also is the first case of us seeing Quackity’s skewed view of monogamy which seems to apply only to his partners (unbeknownst to them) and not to himself.

“I don't want what you have, I wanna be you!”

A big theme of this relationship is the “internal conflict”. Conflict of ambitions, conflict of egos.

Quackity wanted power. And power he received. Except not to the extent he wanted. Although he obviously got a much better deal than he would have by teaming up with Wilbur, Quackity is forced to face the consequences of his choice – he is now a VP, a second-best, there’s someone above him that he has to report to. But that’s alright. As long as he can actually be on equal footing with Schlatt it’s okay. Except that doesn’t seem to be what Schlatt is planning to do.

The first private meeting. According to Schlatt, he presents himself as a sole ruler, a ring leader to whom everyone reports to because he knows that there’s a target on his back. Schlatt knows that people want him dead and by diverting attention to himself he can keep Quackity out of this, let him not take the fall with Schlatt. Or so he claims. We can’t be sure about whether or not Schlatt was lying when he said this, even Quackity suspected it to be some sort of an attempt to manipulate him, but it kind of fits into his pattern of behavior – Schlatt will often remind and reaffirm his position as a ruler, comment on how the cabinet doesn’t really hold that much power. But despite that the cabinet wasn’t restricted in presenting and getting their project ideas approved (eg. the flag, the prison, the Taco Bell with no sticky floors), their suggestions were listened to (eg. Tubbo convincing not to take down the Camarvan, Quackity suggesting a meeting with Wilbur and Tommy, suggesting using Pogtopians for free labor), the cabinet was trusted to handle documentation. This was especially prominent in pre-Festival Manberg. But this wasn’t something Quackity was going to be satisfied with. As we might have guessed already Quackity holds words in high regard. So no matter how many projects Schlatt would approve and how many times he would listen it wasn’t enough. As long as he didn’t call him an equal, as long as other people didn’t see Quackity as Schlatt’s equal it didn’t matter. This was a cause of great damage to Quackity's self-esteem and later would become one of the driving points of his descent.

Schlatt wanted power. And power he received. Being the president of Manberg was almost as good as being a king, no laws or external powers had any way to restrict them. And, quoting Eret, “Those that are given power hold on to it’. And while someone else will hold on to it through strength or charisma Schlatt was aiming to hold on to it through fear and deals. Schlatt crafted a facade of a powerful cold-blooded ruler that can’t be disturbed by people being displeased with him, that doesn’t have anything or anyone that can be used against him, the ruler that doesn’t have weaknesses. And this facade hinged entirely on Schlatt’s words. Schlatt lacks physical strength or skill, but what he has is presence, charisma, a voice that can intimidate and convince. This even might be why Schlatt was always talking about how actions speak louder than words: he knew his way with words and how to present himself through them, but his actions he considered the more truthful part of himself and others.

So that’s where the conflict arises. Schlatt can’t afford to show someone that he isn’t the all-powerful and fearsome ruler. No matter how much it hurts Quackity he won’t admit to him having any actual power over him or being on equal footing with him, and Schlatt most certainly won’t do it with his own words. And Quackity can’t afford to let Schlatt openly disrespect him around their peers, he is insulted by the idea of being presented as a powerless eye-candy even if really that’s not what he is in practice.

This all manifests in yet another vicious cycle of their relationship. Quackity almost constantly doubts and questions Schlatt's leadership. Not really because he thinks it’s absolutely worthless, there were times when Quackity was really enthusiastic about Schlatt’s ideas for the country, but because as soon as Schlatt does something that Quackity doesn’t like it just reminds Big Q that he is not the one in power and he has little to no strength to defend himself against it. When Quackity says “ You should show more authority, your people don’t listen to you, you’re the president after all” he actually says “You’re not fit to be the leader. I should be in your place”. But when Schlatt keeps hearing things like this he interprets them differently. This just feeds into his idea of needing to constantly prove he isn’t weak, that people should listen to him if not because of his position then because of fear. Which in turn just ends up in Quackity being more hurt. And so the cycle continues.

“I gotta get out without it being my fault”

This relationship is very one-sided in more ways than one. Miscommunication is basically an understatement when used in reference to these two. It becomes extremely evident when we try to look at what each side saw this relationship as.

Schlatt, for a lack of a better word, was stuck. And admittedly it was his own fault. Schlatt saw that Quackity still harbored feeling for him and decided that mixing in some compliments to an already great offer of cabinet position and six-figure salary would help him get Quackity as an endorsement. This all might sound like speculation, but hear me out. Schlatt was aware of how easily Quackity jumps at the opportunity of a relationship, he experienced it first-hand, remember? So he was basically aware that complimenting Quackity was a road to becoming his “boyfriend”. And it kind of did turn out exactly as it did in their first relationship: as soon as the coalition was formed Quackity declared them a couple. But that level of flirting was all they got to during the mentioned last time, so in a sense, this was the ground that Schlatt could safely thread and still insist on the relationship being casual. Now everything else beyond compliments and comments on appearance would be the show of more affection than Schlatt ever intended on. We can actually see Schlatt actively refusing to go any further: he refuses to kiss Quackity at the Festival, he refuses to sleep with him, calls their relationship platonic, refuses to marry him. And at the same time, Schlatt doesn’t really want or sees the need to abandon this relationship. For one he genuinely finds Quackity attractive and if the circumstances were different probably wouldn’t mind going for that kind of fling with him. But besides that, he knows how serious Quackity takes this and if it really got to the point of them “breaking up” it would probably mean losing a friend and an ally. Never mind that Schlatt doesn’t even know what he needs to do for Quackity to truly abandon the idea of being in a relationship with him. They’ve been through a break-up already, Schlatt already admitted to never treating their relationship as anything serious and despite that Quackity still had feelings for him, still referred to him as “babe” upon meeting him again. In Schlatt’s eyes, all the low-resistance break-up opportunities were lost at this point. If Quackity still considered them a couple after all the things Schlatt did to ensure that their relationship stays as casual as possible there was truly no safe opportunity for a break-up. So why not just roll with it, even if you have to be stuck in this weird juxtaposition of never truly being close and having no way out?

Now, while we’ve discussed things from Schlatt’s side the same sentiment is seen in Quackity’s POV. Quackity has a very interesting dialogue with George where Big Q tells him that there’s a girl he likes but she doesn’t reciprocate his feelings. He admits that he thinks that the girl likes him too but just doesn’t show it. To this George responds that she is probably just playing hard to get because who wouldn’t love Quackity. While all of this explaining is happening Quackity keeps looking over at Schlatt. So you see, this is the exact problem that we are faced with. The more Schlatt protests the more Quackity thinks he’s “playing hard to get”. After all, he is probably aware of how emotionally constipated Schlatt can get. Schlatt can say a bunch of hurtful things to Q, he can straight up deny them being together, but one compliment is enough to instill the idea of needing to “win Schlatt over” in Quackity’s mind. Those small compliments were mistaken for Schlatt trying to open up to Quackity, while in reality, it was nothing more than casual flirting. As long as a stern denial of feelings is followed with a cute nickname or a comment about his ass Quackity will believe that he has a chance to further this relationship, which admittedly is a cruel way to go about it that Schlatt intentionally chose. This misleadingly hopeful way of thinking becomes Quackity’s own prison in which he not only keeps himself but Schlatt as well. And that prison ended up hurting both of them.

“I love you as much as someone like me can love anyone”

So this is how most fandom’s takes go: Quackity was genuinely in love with Schlatt while Schlatt only used Big Q’s feeling for his benefit. This is a very strong oversimplification of what these two had. Have they ever truly loved each other? Were there happier times? Or was it just a ploy from the start?

Quackity by far was the most trusted member of Schlatt’s cabinet. While everyone else was suspected of being spies almost constantly, Quackity only really got just “suspicious” during the first day when he kept running off, opposing Schlatt and generally started acting less loyal. After that, the king of paranoia Jschlatt never even questioned Big Q’s loyalties. They had the talk about mutual respect and it seemed to settle everything for Schlatt. While Quackity was occasionally plotting to overthrow Schlatt behind his back the man himself only saw Quackity supporting Schlatt’s vision for the country, having a good time and picking on Pogtopians with him. Even after their fight at the White House, which resulted in Schlatt losing a canon life, he was just sulking and eating Big Q’s laxatives out of spite. No hunts, no executions, no bounty. He wasn’t a president who got betrayed, he was a man who fell out with his close friend. Schlatt saw an ambitious boy in misplaced “love”. He used this love to initially bring Quackity on his side, to remind him of what they had and how great their partnership can be. But after that? Nothing, he just had to deal with Quackity’s feeling, the least he could do is compliment him as he genuinely found Quackity attractive. But as he knew how easy it is for Quackity to attach himself to you, he avoided going any further. Schlatt doesn’t do “love”. Schlatt has “flings”, “affairs”, “bitches”. He doesn’t let himself or his party get attached. At least not by the thing knows as “love”. Schlatt even went as far as constantly remind Quackity about another “girlfriend” he has (as Quackity himself didn’t seem to shy away from telling Schlatt about his other love pursuits) but alas that didn’t seem to help anyone and only made the already tense relationship worse.

Quackity may seem like someone who is genuinely in love but only on a very surface level. Even before the relationship went downhill Quackity was pretty cruel to his supposed lover: asked him questions he’s uncomfortable with, made fun of his age and health (two very sensitive subjects for Schlatt), kept flirting with other people in a futile attempt to make the man jealous. Quackity sure tried to win Schlatt’s love over: took him on a date, kept himself in shape, prompted him to jealousy. But at the same time, Quackity never expressed genuine love for Schlatt. Attraction at best. And at the same time, he was hurting when Schlatt didn’t reciprocate his feelings. Just like during their first relationship. And that's understandable considering the lengths he was ready to go for it. Which made me realize this: Quackity was never in love with Schlatt. Quackity was in love with the idea of being in a relationship with Schlatt. Or with anyone really. Quackity wasn’t exactly monogamous and didn’t hide his affections for others from Schlatt. But at the same time he got jealous of others for their relationship - he couldn’t stand Karl and Sapnap’s engagement, he was mad at Schlatt for talking about his girlfriend, he suspected Schlatt was cheating if he didn’t pay enough attention to Q. Quackity had an exact plan of how a relationship should go and everyone who showed him affection was subjected to this plan. Flirting, sex, marriage, kids. And as soon as possible. This is shown very well by Quackity asking Karl (who he already tried to get married to) to marry him after Schlatt escaped their wedding. His reasoning for this? “I can’t be alone”. There it is. The thing that started Quackity and Schlatt’s first relationship. “Be my e-pal, play Minecraft with me, help me look for a girlfriend”. He wanted to be with somebody, anybody. He dreaded the idea of being single. He didn’t want to be in a relationship with Schlatt. He wanted a relationship. Doesn’t matter who it was. And it just so happened that he and Schlatt became so close at the time he might as well follow through with it. Quackity’s own self-image laid in the hands of his partners. He was just unlucky to place it in the hands of a man who didn’t want to have anything to do with it.

So really no one truly loved each other in this relationship. The pair was just feeding off of their own definition of what love was and clashed with each other when said definitions crossed.  

"I only fuck the ones I envy, I envy “

The subject of sex in this relationship doesn’t come up very often. To be fair, the subject of any sort of physical love doesn’t come up very often. You don’t see Schlatt and Quackity kissing, holding each other and really getting close in general. There are exactly two times of them being physically close: walking by the hand on the date and checking out each other's cologne (and even those two are dubious at best). They mostly admired each other from afar and used cute names.

This is what started this whole thing. I was so surprised to see Quackity and Schlatt hugging in one animatic to the point that it made me start looking for this kind of closeness in canon. But this went way deeper than I thought.

Now sex is the thing that does come up a lot in canon actually, just not a lot of people talk about it. There are prominently sexual encounters between these two that have one thing that ties them all together: all of them are prompted by Quackity.

The presidential rally, Quackity just announced the formation of the coalition with Schlatt, Schlatt is resting on the bed, he seems too out of it to even fully realize what’s going on. To show how much Quackity “endorses” Schlatt he gets on top of him and “crouches” making Tommy, Wilbur and Tubbo unwilling witnesses. He only stops when Tommy says that children are watching the stream.

Schlatt and Quackity are on a date, there’s still a bit of tension after the fight they had earlier that day, Quackity invites Schlatt to the hotel (played by Purpled’s UFO). Quackity says that they are going to watch Live P.D. while sitting on a couch. Upon the arrival Schlatt notices that there is no Live P.D., Quackity is on the bed but tries to make Schlatt believe that it’s a couch. As soon as Schlatt figures out that the intent was to have sex all along he freaks out and leaves.

Manberg Hotel building negotiations. Schlatt skims through the permit. “...no personal relationship, between Schlatt and Quackity, will intervene in the building of this historic building. In other words, no divorce papers, no prenups, no pregnancy...”. Pregnancy? Quackity admits that he is indeed going to have a kid and it’s Schlatt’s. Schlatt is shocked, Quackity suggests that Schlatt was so drunk on whey protein that he blacked out and forgot about it. Schlatt can’t believe it and tries to brush it off.

You may notice the lack of Schlatt’s involvement in this or really a desire to be involved at all. Now there are other instances that play into this narrative that Schlatt didn’t view their relationship as sexual.

Quackity and Schlatt’s failed wedding. Schlatt cheers when Karl (as a pastor) says “your marriage will be a life-long promise to love, respect, trust and honor each other“. But then Quackity adds “and sex, babies!” to the vow. Right after that Schlatt goes silent, looks at the exit and flees. Quackity gives chase.

Quackity asks Fundy if he knows what “platonic” means. Fundy replies “friendship, no sexual interactions” to which Big Q answers that he and Schlatt are not platonic, however, Schlatt denies it, saying that he’s not platonic only with his hot chess girlfriend. Quackity whines for him to say that they aren’t platonic.

There are some other explanations to some of these instances (Schlatt still being bitter during the date, Schlatt actually leaving the wedding due to how long it is and Quackity’s words being just a coincidence, Quackity lying about Schlatt being a father or lying about his pregnancy altogether, Schlatt being shocked at the fact that Quackity could get pregnant and not at the fact of intimacy), but those are based on the same level of speculation so there’s no way to know the truth until it gets retconned.

So it is quite possible that Schlatt viewed their relationship as borderline platonic with aesthetic pleasure as the end goal. After all, the man went as far as refusing to even kiss Quackity. Never does he refer to Quackity as “lover” or such, only a “life-long partner, partner in crime”. And Quackity might have just tried to fulfill his vision of the perfect relationship by bringing a part that he deems quite important - sex. For Quackity sex is as important as cute names, dates, marriage. Just another way to “have” a relationship. It becomes even more evident when we consider how much in this relationship hinged on physical attraction.

So that’s when I pull the trigger of my Chekhov’s Gun.

Let’s reflect on the pregnancy situation. Schlatt, who doesn’t see Quackity as a sexual partner (subject of sexual fantasy at best), gets drunk on “whey protein” (sounds quite strange but Schlatt might have been drinking during his exercise or mixing whey with alcohol). It’s unclear whether he was blackout drunk or if he blacked out right after the deed but he was drunk to the point of forgetting it happened so he was probably partially incapacitated, if not by alcohol then by something that had the same effect. In this state he and Quackity get intimate. Judging by Quackity’s reaction he doesn’t mind the incident and is the only one of the two who remembers it.

So what I’m trying to say is that there’s a possibility, however small, that Quackity had his way with incapacitated Schlatt. This of course isn't the only possible explanation, but it’s the one that we can conclude by taking the characters’ words at face value.

You can make your own conclusions about this little “fact”. I sure don’t know what to think.

Conclusion

This relationship became a burden to both people involved in it. Both suffered, were betrayed and demanded polar opposite things from one another. Miscommunication, distrust, “I know better” attitude, conflict of ambitions. This relationship, this presidency became a great detriment to two people who shared a lot of views, who if not loved each other at least considered each other friends. This is truly a tragic sight, an example of how power, insecurity, egos can turn people against each other, bringing great hurt in the process to both.

Schlatt made Quackity self-conscious about his appearance, Schlatt insulted him and didn’t show enough respect while knowing that that’s the thing Quackity yearns for, Schlatt would take things too far during arguments and deliberately make Quackity upset.

Quackity tried to push the relationship into a more sexual direction while knowing Schlatt would be against it, Quackity accused him of cheating while being unfaithful himself, Quackity constantly made fun of Schlatt for his age and health even before their relationship soured.

And no one had their happy ever after.

[whump-town]

You Dance With Tears In Your Eyes

Summary: a college AU set up in the late 80s/early 90s with football star and quarterback Derek Morgan and his secret boyfriend Hotch-- it's not a happy story but I don't think I really have to warn you guys about that anymore

Also, a little based on a story my grandmother told me about my great uncle and his partner. Never met my great uncle but everyone says I'm a lot like him, I think they just mean gay but don't know how to say it

Warnings: homophobia, violence, racism *I mean it when I say homophobia*

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Aaron Hotchner

@yourlocalheartbreaker

The title is from Frank Ocean's song Self Control

Now and then you miss it, sounds make you cry Some nights you dance with tears in your eyes I came to visit, 'cause you see me like a UFO That's like never, 'cause I made you use your self-control And you made me lose my self-control, my self-control

---------------------

Living shouldn’t be reduced down to what it is, the bare bones of things that don’t even make Derek Morgan who he is. He lives by them anyways, stupid rules. Social norms, Aaron always clarifies because even when those silly rules drown them Aaron needs to be concise. Social norms dictate every inch of life and for once Derek wishes he were the type of person who could be given that inch and take a mile. They’re the reason he can’t hold his boyfriend’s hand in public. Why he can’t kiss Aaron on New Years’ and why he is reduced down to loving his roommate. Why, at this rate, he’ll never marry or adopt children, or why he could lose any career he goes into because some nosy asshole finds out his partner isn’t a woman. And, yes, he knows there are anti-discriminatory laws but he’s a black gay man. The world is stacked against him.

It makes him so angry. He’s blinded by the irrational of it all, why nothing can just be simple for them. Aaron tries to comfort him but Derek’s anger scares him, he doesn’t understand it. Aaron has long lost the ability to decipher the complexity of human emotions. Still flinches at loud noises like he’s expecting each bump to be accompanied by the pain that laced his childhood and has to ask, around every turn, if Derek’s angry with him. He can’t tell. Everything looks like anger. With Derek, it frequently is. They cope in very different ways, Aaron chooses nothing. Shutting down all his emotions until he cracks and that’s worse. It’s worse than Derek’s anger. That doesn’t mean Derek doesn’t hate the way he quakes with fury. If not because it feels childish to be blinded by emotions then because it scares Aaron.

There are a million other things, at twenty there always is. It’s his philosophy class with all this bullshit reading he doesn’t understand. He has to ask Aaron for help and Aaron has to ask him for help with things too but it makes Derek feel stupid. It’s philosophy, it can’t be that hard. That’s the same way Aaron feels about calculus. There’s maintaining rent and going grocery shopping and football (games, practice, gym, and training).

College had been a learning curve. Getting up at four in the morning to go to the gym for football had been the hardest thing in the world without his mother flicking his bedroom lights on and off or Desiréecoming in to smack him in the face with a pillow. There’s no one in the entire world in charge of getting him out of his bed other than him and, in his freshman year, while he had thought sleeping on that impossibly hard mattress would leave much to be desired, and it did, he found himself glued to his every morning. Not wanting to leave the safety of its flimsy comfort.

Sharing an apartment worked wonders, having a workaholic boyfriend was really the best trick. An unexpected answer to his problems but, also, a very cute one. He managed to add one person to the list of people that cared about where he was, that made sure he got up in time to make it to the gym and practice, and asked if he had a bad day or rub at his sore muscles.

Derek rolls over in bed, not as surprised as he should be to find the other half empty. “Aaron?” He still searches, runs his hand over the sheets as if he doesn’t know that if Aaron were in the bed he’d be right there. Hogging the bed and the blankets, pressed up against Derek’s back snoring like there’s no tomorrow. “Aaron?” Derek sits up and squints, grimaces at the light trailing in from the open door.

Aaron’s hunched over the beginnings of an essay, pen ink smeared across his left palm and steadily chugging along. He can write a full essay in the span of a night, five hours for about 3,000 words but if it’s a short synopsis sort of thing then about an hour. Despite this astonishing gift, Aaron still makes himself write all his essays weeks in advance and spends days upon days proofreading and combing through them for the tiniest mistakes. He’s a straight-A student so he’s doing something right but Derek gets mostly As too with far less hastily. Aaron is just extra.

Derek steps up to the desk, doesn’t make a sound as he leans up against the side of the chair. He wraps an around Aaron’s shoulders, leans down to kiss his head. “It’s two,” Derek informs him, “come to bed. Please?” Derek’s exhausted. He feels the regret of being pulled from his warm bed. Each second feels like twenty minutes, the world sluggish and too cold. He leans closer to Aaron, wrapping himself around him. “You always smell so good,” Derek whispers. He presses his face into Aaron’s hair, catching the mix of scents.

“Bakery,” Aaron grunts. His answer as simple and concise as he always is but even more so now that he’s tired. Aaron had worked an on-campus job for the entirety of their freshman year but after he got a scholarship that would roll over each year after that (so long as he kept a certain GPA) he started at a bakery down the street from their apartment. Derek had always liked the way Aaron smelled, gently masculine in a way only Aaron could ever be, and it had mixed with the scents of softly, perfectly made baked goods he works around all day. Cookies and cakes. He’s picked up a few tricks, Aaron can make moist cakes and perfectly round cookies but his bread… It’s the best food Derek has ever eaten.

The first time Aaron made bread Derek got down on one knee and confessed “Aaron Hotchner if I could marry you I’d take you to the damn chapel right now”. To which he was lovingly pushed and told to “shut up” but fresh-baked bread (even if Aaron had taken a single bite and concluded he hadn’t ratioed the sugar right) is heavenly. He’s gotten much better since and it’s really hot when he’s standing there in one of his dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up taking his stress out on the dough.

And he can’t tell anyone. Can’t boast about his hot ass boyfriend or the bread he makes from scratch.

Derek crouches down by the chair, knows he’s winning when Aaron breaks from his work just enough to glance at him out of the corner of his eye. “Can’t this wait just a little bit?” he asks. “I want to sleep with my boyfriend and he’s out here writing an essay that isn’t due tomorrow and likely isn’t due for the next month.” Derek reaches up, strokes a strand of hair back behind Aaron’s ear. His fingers graze an open wound and Aaron flinches away, the pain unexpected.

The bare bones of Aaron Hotchner are the along the same in principle to Dereks-- all things that he cannot change. Even as he stands as tall as Derek, their bodies are not the same. Derek is lean from years of football, his arms stretch his shirts. He looks like an athlete, has the benefit of the doubt whenever he’s around men. His teammates walk naked in front of him, no one for even a second thinks anything of it. No one suspects him of the atrocities he commits within his apartment.

Aaron doesn’t have any of that. His hair is a little too long, hangs down in his face when he’s studying or reading. Nothing about him is hulk-ish, he’s delicate with his movements and while it had been something that Derek was immediately drawn to it also draws other’s attention. Bad attention.

The same boys that play around with Derek, snapping towels at him while he walks, terrorize Aaron.

Derek wishes there was something he could do because if this were anyone else- if Aaron were a girl- he could. It wouldn’t be dangerous, not the sort of thing that would cost him his football scholarship or get him stabbed and left to bleed out in an alley or beat within an inch of his life. He would have to out himself to protect Aaron, to stand in front of his teammates that coach keeps calling his family and tell them to keep their fucking hands off his boyfriend. No. No, because something like that would be death. It would be worse than what’s already happening. And Aaron won’t allow it.

All Derek can do now is await the next attack, leave Aaron someplace to come home to. Give him a place to be, without burden, without hesitation. It’s not enough. They’ll kill him. Derek knows they will and it’ll be fun for them, only a matter of time.

“Come to bed with me,” Derek asks one more time. He doesn’t want to sound entirely needy but he really doesn’t want to go to bed without Aaron. The bed is lonely.

With a sigh, Aaron nods and Derek stands up, moves out of the way so Aaron can throw pens in his textbooks to mark his place. He steps away, from the desks, yawning as he makes lazy lurches forward towards their bedroom. “Turn the damn--” Derek rolls his eyes and reaches over and turns off Aaron’s desk lamp.

He passes Aaron in the doorway, places his hand on his hip, and reminds him of their objective. “Bed,” he mumbles and Aaron nods, jerking back to life as he steps further into the bedroom.

Derek lays down on the bed, crawls over to his side, and gets comfortable while he watches Aaron lazily strip down to his underwear. He gets caught in his head again for a moment, standing there just blankly staring at the dresser. Trying to figure out if he should put on pajamas or not. Derek calls his name and opens his arms. “Come here, “ he says and Aaron smiles. Sheepishly he comes, blushing as he crawls into the bed and where Derek instructs him. Humming, pleased, when Derek brings the blankets up over them. His eyes are already closed, head tucked under Derek’s chin when Derek wraps his arms around him. Pulls him close, tight.

He’d read in a book about deep pressure, its effect on the parasympathetic nervous system. He’d studied Development Psychology for some time, thought about all the ways in which it checked every box of his interests. He thinks he might want to be a teacher. That’s where he learned about the importance of the bond between guardian and child. Where he learned a hug sometimes really is a fantastic answer to the most startling problems.

It’s also the fastest way to get Aaron to sleep.

“Tighter,” Aaron whispers. He can’t quite feel Derek’s bones pushing into him, the hammer of his heart still too strong. He groans, choking up a laugh when Derek does just that. Holds him tight, makes him ache with the proximity, his inability to move.

Derek doesn’t mind, he’s got an armful of bakery boy. Couldn’t be more content with anything else.

0000000000000000

All things considered, Derek didn’t actually face that much scrutiny when he told his mother about the stupid twisting and turning feeling in his stomach when Martel Harris put his hand on Derek’s back. Leaned in too close and Derek could smell the cologne he wore and feel his proximity like lightning across his skin. He’d thought it was just nerves but at the end of a football match Martel lifted him up, threw him up in the air, and God that had felt better than flying. Lit him up inside like he was something, someone.

Desiréecried and Sarah wouldn’t speak to him for a week, opposite reactions because of the same fear. Their mother always said the two of them were two halves of the same coin-- too alike to get along and too different to ever get away. They came around, their mother’s gentle hand always the voice of reason. Three stubborn as all hell kids, too much like their father. That’s what she tells the three of them, tears swelling in her eyes as she proclaims that none of it matters. Orders Desiréeto stop crying tells Sarah to get over herself. She loved and married a black man despite the death threats that followed them everywhere they went. Despite the people that called it blasphemous. Called it sin. As if love could be such a thing.

Her mother told her not to come home, not to call. She wouldn’t do that to her son, she knows it won’t change a thing. There’s something about love that makes you blind to the small pains. She never looked back twice, never reached out to her parents. She chose love and Derek will too.

But that doesn’t mean the fear goes away.

It doesn’t actually change a damn thing.

Standing in the tiny bathroom attached to Derek’s friend’s bedroom Aaron leans over the sink, letting Derek rub

shampoo through his beer-drenched hair. “I just don’t understand why they have it out for you,” Derek mumbles, his voice has deepened, his frustration laced confusion evident. They’re in a rather suggestive position, Derek’s body keeping Aaron bent over the sink-- ass to groin. Aaron shoots him a look out of the corner, a pretty clear “look at us right now and take a guess at why”. Derek ignores the look, he’s rather good at ignoring Aaron’s sharp looks. He shakes his head, grumbling some more to himself and gently working the shampoo out of Aaron’s hair. He leans closer, Aaron groaning as the sink bites into his stomach, and smells his hair. Derek groans, unsatisfied with what he finds. “Smells like strawberries with a slight undertone of beer.”

Sounds about as close to a win as they’re getting. “That’s as good as it’s going to get,” Aaron mumbles, grateful when Derek sits back up. While Aaron’s come to terms with the particular hand he’s drawn in the terms of college social lives Derek isn’t as quick to accept. He feels hopeless, a feeling he thought he’d escaped upon leaving Chicago and everything Carl Buford. Aaron can’t stand to see that look, the one he’s grown so used to seeing after events like this.

He pulls a towel down off the rack, starts trying to dry his hair. This isn’t the reason he keeps his hair short but it’s certainly a helpful addition to keep in mind. “Don’t overthink it, it’s not your fault.” Aaron could go blue in the face trying to keep Derek from coming up with a mile-long list of all the reasons why that’s simply not true. The truth is, it’s really not Derek’s fault. No one even knows about them. Their relationship isn’t the reason why Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is poured his cup of cheap, smells like piss, beer over Aaron’s head.

Not that what happened downstairs can just be so beautifully summed up as just that. Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is had grabbed Aaron as he was walking in, doing as Derek instructed by coming in the screened-in door at the side of the house. “Who’s dick did you come to suck?” and Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is cupped Aaron’s cheek. Dug his thumb into the wound he created and smiled, grinned happily at the sight of Aaron trying so hard to getaway. Hunter’s grip relaxed and as soon as it did Aaron was blinking the beer out of his eyes. “Get the fuck away from me,” Hunter shoved him, hard. “Faggot.” Aaron hit his hip on the counter but said nothing, he’ll leave the bruise for Derek to find another night.

“I should say something to that pig,” Derek’s distracting himself with putting everything back in the bathroom the way it was before they came in. Straightening out the rug and fixing the other towels. “Let me catch him trying something--”

Aaron can’t take it, all of Derek’s pointless anger, his stupid guilt. He’s just had beer poured down his back. He can’t even accept Derek’s sweatshirt to replace his smelly shirt, can’t walk out of here wearing his boyfriend’s sweatshirt without getting shanked. The beer smells awful but he’s fairly certain getting stabbed is a whole lot worse. Derek doesn’t have to deal with that. No one messes with him because no one thinks to. “It’s because of how I look!” He’s shaking, bangs hanging down in his face still damp but no longer dripping water down his face. “You? You look normal. You get to walk around with all your football buddies, no one bats an eye at the quarterback, Derek. At least you like women too!” He points to himself, digs his finger into his own chest. “Me? I look the part. I can’t even pretend. Everyone knew, the whole world knew before I did!”

Derek just stands there, caught in the headlights trying to figure out what to say.

He wipes his eyes, jerks away from the hand Derek tries to put on his arm. “No. No!” he can’t do touch right now. Not like this, not when his body won’t hold still and his knees keep trying to buckle. It happens, this panicked cornered feeling, and usually Derek would hold him down. They’d sit on the floor and Derek would hold his arms down to his chest and they’d just sit like that until Aaron can breathe again. Bones against bones until Aaron feels the fractures of his humanity coming back together but for now, right now? He can’t do it. He can’t be touched.

“I want to go home,” he manages, lower lip quivering despite how much he wants to hold it together. “Please take me home.”

Derek just stares at him, stands there, and watches Aaron cross his arms over his chest and curl in, trying to squeeze the panic out himself. “Okay,” he caves. “Go on, I’ll follow you down.” It’s degrading, humiliating the fact that they can’t even leave this room together. Aaron’s upset and Derek can’t do anything about that right now. It’s not safe until they’re home.

It’s never safe.

With his hair dripping into his face Aaron stumbles in the dark. His shirt is soaking wet, stuck to his skin, and freezing him as tramples down a thin stretch of grass between houses. He wishes he had Derek’s sweatshirt. Something warm. At least something to cover his arms. It had been a stupid idea coming here right after getting off work. The bakery is so impossibly hot and after getting off his shift all he wanted was to be with Derek. To sit in whatever little room Derek could guarantee was safe and drink whatever cheap crap Derek brings him from downstairs. Just sit and listen to the music filtering in from downstairs.

“Hotchner!”

He freezes-- a deadly mistake.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

He knows what happened to Derek. In the hush of the night, laying facing each other in the dark, Derek had told him. Each word a puff of hot air against Aaron’s face, hitting the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. It was supposed to be even, Derek’s intention was to express alikeness. He’d seen the scars, no matter careful Aaron was about the light when he thought things were headed in the direction of nakedness, Derek saw them. He hadn’t said anything that time, run his thumb over the one on Aaron’s chest but kept up his ministrations. Acted as if he didn’t until that moment in bed.

Aaron still hasn’t found the courage to be honest about his own childhood.

Derek comes around the back, half-expecting tonight to go like it always does. Except Aaron hasn’t had any alcohol and he doesn’t come stumbling around the porch to greet Derek from the darkness. There are no stolen kisses or hushed laughter. No Aaron. Derek has half a mind to shout out for him, he couldn’t have gone off far, but then he sees him. Derek sees them. The moonlight shining down casting this awful hue between the houses. He sees Hunter draw his foot back and he can’t hold it back. Won’t let this go on. “Hunter!”

The second that Hunter’s attention is away from him, Aaron slumps to the ground. His blood smeared against the house. He’s still breathing, awful ragged breathes that shoot blood off his lips. He sees Derek in the moonlight, rushing past him. Aaron wishes he wasn’t a coward. Between each blood speckled breathe, he wishes that he wasn’t a coward and had just told Derek. That way he would understand Aaron can take it. He spent his childhood taking beatings for just being alive. At least now it was something coherent. Being beaten for being gay requires at least knowing something about him. His father couldn’t even bother with that.

But Derek doesn’t understand.

Aaron never told him.

He’s pulled down, out of orbit, and back to Earth when Derek squats down beside him, cradles his head in his hands. “Aaron?” he calls out, but Aaron can’t force his eyes to move from the dirt. “Can I--” Derek doesn’t know where to put his hands. If he can put his hands anywhere. “I’m going to-- to lift you, okay?” It’s not a matter of if he’s strong enough. He benches more than his own body weight and that’s significantly more than Aaron’s. He’s just not sure if Aaron’s going to fight him and if Aaron fighting him is good or bad.

“Lean forward,” Derek whispers, cupping the back of Aaron’s head and directing it into his shoulder. He turns, manipulates both their bodies and winces each time, no matter how gentle and calculated his movements are, Aaron still cries out. He still hurts him. “I’m sorry,” becomes his mantra. The only words he can manage out around the tears, the only thing he can get past the thickness in his throat.

Sorry he didn’t stop this sooner.

Sorry that he keeps hurting Aaron.

Sorry they couldn’t be other people. In other places. In another time.

Sorry that it’s all for nothing, that there’s no way this ends well for either of them. They’re going to end up dead or alone but certainly separate.

The second Derek has him in his arms Aaron grips his shirt tightly in one blood-stained hand. He rests his head on Derek’s shoulder, soaking in his warmth. “Home?” he asks, voice breaking.

“We’re going home.”

Aaron wakes up alone in bed.

He’s completely naked, laying with three blankets pulled up over him. One that he recognizes is from the living room. There’s one of Derek’s homemade sock heating pads digging into his sore ribs where he rolled over onto it, he can feel more of them underneath him. He’s been laying here for a while. None of the socks are warm anymore. He’s on Derek’s side of the bed, facing his nightstand, and watches Derek’s blurry alarm clock change time. 1:36 passing to 1:37 to 1:38 just waiting for the fuzzy fingers in his brain to ease up. To allow him to think.

It’s Saturday.

Derek’s off at a football game, not due back for hours. Not until tonight, long after Aaron’s gone to bed.

For an overwhelming moment, his eyes fill with tears, desperation, and solitude creating an awful twist in his stomach. He doesn’t want to be alone. Protectively he draws his knees up, tries to knot himself up, and create a mangled ball. His heart picks up, anxiety increasing as he lays there. He wants Derek. He doesn’t want to be alone.

On the phone’s first rings he curls in tighter, overwhelmed by his own crying that he presses his face into Derek’s pillow and ignores it. He’ll let the machine catch it-- that’s the whole reason Derek bought it. With a sharp end, muffled by the blanket he pulls up over his head, a voice comes through. The machine catching the voice mail.

“Aaron, sweetheart? This is Fran, Derek’s mom? I’m sorry to keep calling sweetie but Derek’s awake now. He’s worried, says you should have woken up by now. I can send Sarah to come get you, Derek told me what happened last night. Please call me back? I hope you’re okay.”

He lays in confused silence, trying to process why Derek’s mother would call him. She calls all the time and occasionally he answers to tell her she’s just missed Derek-- he’s off with friends, at the gym, or at class. They know of one another Derek talks about him to Fran as much as Derek talks about Fran to him. But Fran call him? That’s never happened.

Then he catches it-- “Derek’s awake now”-- and he sits up. Pushed from his mind is the pain, his ribs scream and the blood he can see he’s left on Derek’s pillow. Derek’s awake now. Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is is on the football team. An offensive lineman. A guy whose entire job is to protect Derek but now he knows, he has to know.

Derek’s awake now.

He throws himself out of bed, clipping his already sore hip on the nightstand and staggering for the phone. Tears spilling over his face. What happened while he was sleeping? What did Hunter do?

Fran picks up on the first ring. “Aaron, is that you sweetheart?”

He sniffles, rubbing at his nose with his finger. “Yes, ma’am.” He knows she can hear him crying, his choked sobs as he falls in the direction of the closes chair.

“You had me worried sick,” she says and he can hear that unmistakable fondness in her chastising tone. That must be where Derek gets it from. It makes him smile, even if it’s weak. “How are you feeling, baby? Derek told me what happened. I’m sorry. If I see that boy I’ll wring his neck. Give him a piece of my mind for bothering my boys.”

He just nods, despite the fact that she can’t see that. He knows he should answer her question but he has no idea what he feels. Nothing. He feels nothing as he sits here holding his breath as he waits to ask about Derek. To know what happened because of him. “Is Derek okay? What happened?”

Hunter told a few other team members what he saw. Most brushed him off, Hunters a douchebag, and they like Derek. Others just hate Aaron enough for it to matter to them, enough to what to do something. Or, rather, not do anything. It only took one tackle, a limb bent the wrong way under the weight of three boys.

It was Derek’s knee. A career-ending injury.

A scholarship losing injury.

“Can I--” Aaron chokes. He’s afraid of what happens if Fran says no. “Can I see him?”

“Of course you can.”

Aaron turns away Fran’s offer of a car ride but Desirée still shows up.

He answers the door in a sweatshirt and jeans and knows immediately who it is when he opens it up. Desirée just stares at him for a moment, he can feel all of the seventeen-year-old judgment sizing him up. “You look… awful,” she tells him. She lets herself in, walking past Aaron with one more look. “Mom says I can drive but if you want to do it I have to let you.” She puts the car keys on the counter, sighs as she looks around. “Derek says…” she chews her lip, as she sizes him up again.

He wonders how intimidating he could possibly look to her. Hunched over and wearing a sweatshirt that’s too big for him.

“Would you teach me how to make bread?”

He can’t help but smile, nods without any hesitation.

“Really?”

Aaron nods, “it’s not that hard. More of a-- a waiting game. You have to give the yeast time to rise.”

Desirée has no idea what that means but she nods, “cool.”

He lets her drive. Mostly because his vision is swimming but because he tosses the keys back to her, a clear okay that she can drive, and she beams at him. She likes him. That’s so weirdly important to him.

She has to wake him up when they get to the hospital. The first thing she tells Fran is that he let her drive and Fran smiles at him, shakes her head, and says “you must have a death wish.”

Aaron blushes under the attention, eyes falling to the floor. He barely manages, “drives just like Derek.”

Fran laughs, nodding her head, “she does. Too heavy on the brakes.” Her smile fades a little when she sees Aaron’s sweatshirt, recognizes it from home. Knows it’s Dereks. “Will you let someone look at that,” she asks, too many of his wounds look deep. Cuts that need stitches and a nasty black eye that she knows he hasn’t iced. She’s reminded a little too quickly that Aaron and Derek are still very much kids. Tricky kids. Too old to be told what to do but still wanting direction.

Aaron nods, shying away again from the attention, but nods.

They leave him when the nurse steps in, doesn’t need to say a word. Fran sees him hesitate to lift his shirt and knows. Derek had managed to tell her most of what happened but the morphine made his speech slur, made him emotional. He’d sobbed, high and in pain. Told her what he’d seen the night before. Hunter hitting and kicking at Aaron, the way Aaron slumped forward. How he’d carried Aaron home. Washed the blood off him with a rag. She knew what was under Aaron’s shirt wasn’t something for them to see.

Derek wakes sometime in the middle of the night. The drugs from the surgery are wearing off and with it his blissful escape from the pain. Licking his dry lips he looks around the room, spotting his sisters and frowning as he tries to find his mother. She’s leaning over another cot, on the other side of the room. He watches her, hears the familiar chorus of Blackbird, and watches her stroke Aaron’s forehead, following the line of the relaxed brow.

It makes him smile, his mother used to sing Whitney Houston to him and his sisters to sleep. He told her about Aaron’s obsession with The Beatles, how of all the records the two of them own that’s the only one Aaron will play. Desiréebought the album, his mother told him a week later. She saved up to get it and was eager for her moment to speak to Aaron about it. To be able to befriend her brother’s boyfriend. That’s about the same time Fran began to hound him about bringing Aaron home, to Chicago. She wanted to meet him.

Fran kisses Aaron’s forehead, waiting another moment just to make sure Aaron’s truly asleep before she stands. “He was having a bad dream,” she tells Derek. In truth, he’d been crying in his sleep. In pain, she could tell, and restless. He’d settled with her there and it made her sad to think that maybe he’d just grown too used to sleeping beside someone else. She’d pulled his blankets closer and sang, just as she did with the other three when they were little. Even when they’re twenty, it still works like a charm.

Fran smiles, tries to soothe Derek’s nerves so he doesn’t worry about Aaron. He’s fine for now, sleeping soundlessly. She sits down on the edge of Derek’s bed, cups his cheek, and asks “how are you feeling?”

Derek just looks over to Aaron, his pale parted lips parted and the bandages holding him together. “Is he okay?” He’d been so scared last night watching Aaron sleep. No amount of Tylenol was doing a thing for his pain. Several times he’d sat up in the night and searched for a pulse, counted the far too many seconds separating each of his breathes. Derek thought Aaron might die right there beside him but he’d been more afraid of what might have happened if they went to the hospital.

Fran sighs, stupid love. It’s cute, she has to admit, but so senseless. “He’s sleeping, he’s okay.” She tries to redirect him, “how do you feel?”

Derek looks back over to Aaron. He looks. There’s more than just those pale lips and the bandages. It’s Aaron. He’s sleeping under multiples blankets and looks like himself. How he always looks when Derek rolls over to face him. He believes his mother, she never lies. “My leg hurts,” he whispers, voice cracking. It’s like the entire thing is pulsing, a continuous stabbing feeling. He cries but not from the pain. They betrayed him. The people he so stupidly thought of as his friends. They hurt him like they’d been hurting Aaron.

He should have known better.

He shouldn’t have been so stupid.

This is his fault.

“Derek?” Aaron sits up, hesitating under the combined attention of Derek and Fran.

Fran stands up, nods Aaron over. “Sit with him,” she offers. “I’ll go get a nurse.”

Aaron nods, still waiting, still hesitating to be where he wants to be. Derek motions him closer, manages to move his body over in the bed. Just enough room for Aaron to squeeze in beside him.

“I don’t think I”m supposed to--”

“Lay down.” Derek can see all the bruises and cuts up close again. He brushes his fingers through the hair above Aaron’s ear, turning his palm to his cheek. Gently tracing the outline of a bandage. “Runaway with me,” he whispers. He thought about it all night long while he watched Aaron sleep. “There’s only four more weeks left of the semester.” Aaron’s smart, he’ll get in anywhere he applies. “We’ll transfer someplace else, anywhere else.”

Aaron frowns, he doesn’t like the idea of this impulsivity. Mostly the number of uncertainties that it creates and the questions. Where will they go? How will they know it’s safe? Are they dropping out? Where will they transfer to? What Aaron can’t get into the college that Derek does?

“Hey,” Derek hushes, he strokes his thumb across Aaron’s cheekbone. “Hey, whatever you’re thinking stop. I’m not leaving, not going anywhere you don’t. We do this together, alright?” He smiles, leans forward, and softly knocks their foreheads together. “Four weeks and all of summer break, okay? That’s plenty of time for a smarty pants like you to figure out where we can go.” It had taken less time for Aaron to conclude Illinois was close enough to home for him to go if something happened to his mother but too far away for her or his brother to come to him.

They’ll figure it out.

“Runaway with me?” he asks one more time.

“Okay.”

[transsexualhamlet]

alright it’s time for as requested part two of rowan reads the original sherlock holmes and compares it to yuumori

i finished a study in scarlet and holy shit was yuumori accurate to it

obviously they changed the case so that... well, moriarty was involved, and they didn’t go into detail on why drebber was an a-grade piece of shit (lol i wasn’t expecting the mormons but it was a great perspective actually doyle went big brain time on that one lmao) 

Hmmm i mean the other main difference is that Watson Is Gayer In The Original but yeah obviously that’s for a reason and the reason is william james moriarty

I have some highlights of “oh my god I need to see yuumori sherlock do this right now because he Absolutely Would” and they’re WILD

So yuh here are your Sherlock Moments

-when watson asks stamford why he might not want to board with sherlock bestie went “he’s a little queer” and watson was basically like “i like that in a man :)” like i am Fully Aware that’s not what queer meant back then but it’s FUNNY alright

-stamford is also like “yeah i mean he’s the kind of guy who would probably perform human experiments on his friends without telling them”

-watson walks into sherlock’s lab like hello new roommate :) and the dude immediately starts SCREAMING

-he’s all I GOT IT I GOT IT I GOT IT LOOK and fucking stabs himself and drips the blood in a container, yeah yeah it makes a reaction and he’s like I AM GOING TO SOLVE ALL CRIMES EVER ACTUALLY wait who are you

-SHERLOCK THEN PROCEEDS TO SEAL UP THE CUT WITH P L A S T E R AND THEN HANDLE POISONOUS CHEMICALS WITH HIS BARE, INJURED HANDS

-watson moves in with this dude and is like “oh wow im really interested in this guy but im Polite so i cannot ask him anything” so he starts snooping around trying to figure out what sherlock does for a living?????? like he couldn’t just fucking ask???? and he’s like wow he has these clients and he kicks me out of the house every time they come over i Really Don’t Want To Think He’s Fucking Them

-obviously, and to watson’s embarassment, he wasn’t. sherlock is a virgin and it is very clear

-watson describes sherlock in the most homoerotic way possible i don’t even know how to describe it bestie goes on about his hands for a full paragraph it’s really gay man

-WATSON IS SO POLITE ABOUT IT ITS ACTUALLY HILARIOUS ISTG HES LIKE I AM KIND OF SERIOUSLY OBSESSED WITH THIS DUDE BUT I COULDN’T POSSIBLY JUST ASK HIM ANYTHING OR LIKE TRY TO GET CLOSER TO HIM I WILL SIMPLY WRITE LISTS ABOUT HIM AND DIAGNOSE HIM WITH AUTISM

-he’s also like “i don’t know i really think hes on drugs i would say he’s on drugs but also he’s like this all the time and he might just be mentally ill” lo and behold it was both

-SHERLOCK GOES TO BED AT TEN PM AND GETS UP AT 4 AM EVERY DAY WITHOUT FAIL

-m o t h e r f u c k e r  d o e s  n o t  k n o w  w h a t  t h e  s o l a r  s y s t e m  i s

-and when asked why he doesn’t know! he’s like my dear watson! i simply cannot be bothered! my brain is filled up with more important things! 

-watson compares him to some fictional detective that edgar allan poe made up and sherlock is like HIM OH MY GOD DO NOT COMPARE ME TO THAT MOTHERFUCKER I AM BETTER THAN THAT

-it’s honestly really cute watson apparently will sit and listen to him play the violin and like request pieces and stuff and yeah sherlock can play those fine

-but most of the time if he picks it up on his own sherlock will just start plucking it with his fucking hands while slouching in a chair and sitting like L Death Note and playing random notes that Vibe 

-watson HATES it

-watson once picks up this paper sherlock has lying around about yknow. deduction and all that and how you find things out and watson is like “this is Bullshit who wrote this what the fuck this is the most unrealistic thing i’ve ever read” and then sherlock is like I Wrote It Shawty and watson is like. um. oh haha i take back everything

-MAN I JUST GOTTA POINT OUT I AM A TEENAGE BOY AND I COULD NOT STAY SERIOUS WHEN DOYLE THOUGHT “EJACULATED” WAS A GOOD WORD TO PUT IN PLACE OF SAID

-lol he was like “ahahahhaa my deductions” and watson was like “but How Did You Do It” and he’s like “I WANT TO LOOK COOL WATSON DONT MAKE ME RUIN IT BY EXPLAINING”

-GHHHHHHHHHH BESTIES when sherlock was Infodumping to watson About Crimes watson was like “oh my god that’s so cool bestie!” like Once and watson described it like “i was complimenting him like he was a girl and i called him beautiful and he blushed” LIKE DUDE THATS GAY

-that one time sherlock yelled “THE PLOT THICKENS” and lestrade was like “i t  w a s  t h i c k  e n o u g h  a l r e a d y”

-dude thinks he’s wrong ONCE and has a mental breakdown in front of the entirety of scotland yard before like five seconds later realizing that he was not, in fact, wrong

I’d say that the main difference between him and yuumori sherlock is that og sherlock has a massive fucking ego and yuumori sherlock is very loud but has no ego at all. Og sherlock will brag about how smart he is to anyone who will fucking listen. Yuumori sherlock will only boast abt his intelligence around Moriarty because he knows they’re both mindfucking

Other than that... I honestly cannot come up with significant differences between them. You can really tell how similar they are especially with the sign of mary episode- dude was just like >:((((( the entire day because watson has a fiance and then he walks in on a dead body and goes now hERES SOME FUN

He’s very accurately and enthusiastically portrayed, as far as I can tell, and I think that’s really epic. I love him. I might kin og sherlock too guys ngl