#there are so many damn layers to this problem it’s so not fucking funny anymore /gen

[teratophool]

I am once again sexually frustrated and am about to lose my mind. /gen

[younghoax]

Marc Coney • New York City • 2001

“Everything will be different now. Marc’s gonna take care of us.”

He’s twelve and his mom’s smiling -really, genuinely smiling- as a man -Marc- stands in their doorway with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face.

The man says, “Hey, Jordan. It’s nice t’meet you, kid.”

He’s got blood drying on his collar and his hair’s a little messy, but Jordan really believes him. Nick’s not been gone for long, but Marc’s taller and stronger and Jord’s got a feeling he’s got something to do with Nick picking up his shit and going for good last week.

“You too,” he smiles back as he watches Marc shut the door behind himself. He asks, “You staying for dinner?”

Marc laughs for some reason, ruffling Jordan’s hair as he passes him to flop down onto the sofa. “I’m staying for a while.”

The following months are awesome. They go to the park and shit, and Jordan has kind of outgrown shit like the park, but it’s just nice to feel so normal. Marc’s got a son; named after him, Jordan guesses, but he goes by his full name, Marco. He tags along sometimes - sleeps over on weekends and although they don’t have a hell of a lot in common (Marco’s got a year or two on him and is kind of a miserable asshole) but Jordan decides he can live with it.

Marc’s got so many friends that he’s lost count; everywhere they go, somebody stops him, and the guy has his own business and always ends up selling something, even when they’re on the move.

***

Thirteen years old and just now really understanding what a drug dealer is. Kind of embarrassing when it finally clicks into place, but at least now he understands where all the money is coming from. Some nights in the week, he hangs out at Marc’s friends’ houses and they all sit around a table and sort through different powders and plants and don’t even try to hide it from him since he admitted that he knows.

... Only problem with those guys watching over him is that, despite working for Marc, they don’t have the same friends as he does. He later discovered that it means they also don’t have the same protection. There’s this one night in September when one of the guys offers to walk him back to his apartment when he gets the okay from Marc.

“I don’t give a shit about school,” Jordan’s telling the guy whose name he thinks is Danny.

He’s one of the only names Jordan can remember, and it’s only because of the distinctness of his bone structure and the slit that he always has in his left brow. He’s younger than a lot of the other guys, but still somewhere in his mid-twenties.

The guy laughs though and, despite being a personal favourite of his, Jordan scowls at him and asks, “what’s so funny?”

He shrugs, says, “you’re just a kid. Marco was the same. You’re too young to decide what to give a shit about. Wait ‘til your-”

But he doesn’t get to finish because there’s a figure that comes out of nowhere, slamming him to the hard ground before a fist is flying into his face. There’s another guy with the first, and he’s got Jordan on the ground before the kid’s even realised Danny is down.

J’s breathing picks up, panting, panicking as this guy looms over him but doesn’t even say a word. He squirms, thinks maybe he’s not strong enough to push him off but he’s small enough to wriggle out. No such luck.

“Yo, hey hey hey,” Danny shouts, then pauses to spit on the ground beside his head, blood and saliva landing on the sidewalk as he tries to wrestle the man off of him. “He’s just a kid, man, c’mon.”

“You Nick’s kid?” The guy’s breath reeks, and Jordan shakes his head hurriedly. The stranger turns to Dan, and the guy that has the man pinned asks, “where the fuck is Nick? He fucking owes me.”

It’s just panic. Dan’s still down, trying to shove the stranger off but barely moving him an inch, and Jordan’s having no more luck. The man only has him by a hand on his shoulder, and it’s too easy and makes too much sense for Jordan to reach into his pocket, press the button--

“FUCK,” the man rolls off him and ends up in a hunched position on the ground. “Fucker stabbed me!”

“What the fuck,” the other says, and he must move as well because then Danny’s pulling Jordan up from the ground and shoving him behind himself. The knife falls from his hand, trembling as his eyes dart between the three men.

“He’s Marc’s kid. Marc Coney. You can’t fucking touch—”

“Shit.” The guy goes white – takes a few steps (limps) back. “Fuck, yeah, alright.”

Jordan doesn’t quite get what that means. He’s busy watching the hand pressed to the one stranger’s thigh turn wet and red as he holds his wound. The other man says, “Our bad man. Our bad.”

“S-sorry,” he blurts, then looks from the blood seeping through the man’s fingers to the knife on the ground, then to Danny and back again. “Sorry, I—“

“Don’t be sorry,” Danny interrupts, then looks the bleeding man dead in the eye and spits on the ground. Jordan’ll never forget that. How something so vulgar and disgusting held so much weight.

Spit at a man and you’re begging him to knock your lights out. If he doesn’t? You’ve already won.

Jordan’s pretty sure they slip away without a fight because they’ve heard Marc’s name, but when they’re a block away, Danny tells him, “you sure fucking scared them away,” then, “’ey, is this your knife,” as he looks at the weapon he’s carried from the scene. He adds, “shit, s’better than mine, keep hold of that,” as he looks down at Jordan with a half-smile, the orange streetlights bouncing off his hollow cheeks and darkening his eyes.

He still looks pretty handsome even with the cut on his mouth. A little menacing maybe, smiling despite the blood between his teeth, but he’s still just about the most powerful image Jordan’s ever seen.

When he takes the knife back, his hands aren’t shaking anymore.

Danny hangs around in their apartment for long enough to give Marc a play-by-play of the night, and the man seems pretty damn impressed by Jordan; doesn’t even seem to care how he got his hands on a knife. His son, on the other hand, sits on the couch looking unimpressed as he tells him, “that’s the stupidest fuckin’ thing I ever heard,” as he scowls between Jordan and Danny. “Who gave the kid a knife?”

Nobody cares.

***

Marc Coney is a big name. Jordan’s mom wasn’t joking a year ago when she said he’d take care of them. Fourteen years old and he can walk home at night alone because anyone that touches a hair in his head is practically sacrificing themselves.

He’s hanging out with this kid from school, Ryan, on the tennis court a few blocks from home. Jordan can’t remember the last time he saw it being used—not that they need to worry about that now, at ten o’clock at night in the winter. They’re both sat with their legs crossed; knees to knees in the centre of the court.

“There was blood on it for ages,” he tells him as he hands the knife over. “They came outa nowhere. I ain’t seen ‘em since.”

Ryan looks taken aback as he turns the knife in his hands, already flipped open. He’d jumped when Jordan pressed the button, but he figured he’d best do it himself to save the risk of his friend losing a finger. “Were you alone?”

“Neh,” Jordan shakes his head as watches the light bounce off the blade, then looks up and spots it reflect into the boy’s eye. Blue. Very very blue. And J’s never really got it, the way people go on about eyes. Never found that shit important. But fuck, are they blue. “Was with… Some guy.”

“So cool,” Ryan mumbles, right before Jordan leans over and presses his lips to his.

He hears the knife fall from the boy’s hand, and for a moment there’s a palm pressed lightly to his chest as Ryan kisses back, but then suddenly it’s shoving him away and Ryan’s looming and there’s fist pummelling into his face.

Then he’s by himself.

***

“What did he look like?” Marc’s asking a million questions before Jordan’s even said hello. “I’ll fucking kill him, I—”

“Calm down,” his mom grits through her teeth from the couch, but she’s sprawled out with her eyes shut so he’s pretty sure she has no idea what’s happening. The boiler’s broke again and she’s wearing her robe beneath the blankets and towels she’s under. She’s shivering like crazy, like she can’t control her body. Shivering so bad that her fingers are all crooked and cramped up--

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down! This was for me, everyone knows the kid, they know I—”

“It was just some kid from school,” he interrupts him, eyes darting from Marc to his mom. Can’t decide who to give his attention to right now. “Sorry, it’s nothin’, really. Doesn’t matter.”

Marc squints, still gripping Jordan’s chin as he inspects his eye. “Some kid? What’s his name? Last name? Does he—”

“It doesn’t matter, Marc,” he insists, bats his hand away. “It’s nothing to do with you, honest. It’s my problem. I can handle myself. I think mom needs--”

“Why’d he hit you?”

Shit. “I d’know, we… We don’t get along.”

“Fuck that. I wanna know his last name. He got a dad? Brother? Fuckin' uncle? What’s the name Jordan?!”

He shoves past the man, needs to find more towels or a coat or something. He spots his own bedsheets poking out from the other layers draped over her. She can have ‘em. “I don’t know, I don’t know! It doesn’t matter!”

“People don’t get punched for fuckin’ nothing, kid!” He’s not even sure who Marc’s mad at anymore as he grabs his arm and pulls him back before he makes it across the room. When he turns Jordan back around, there’s a vein bulging from his forehead. “I’ve got a reputation, Jordan, tell me the fucki—”

“I kissed him,” he snaps. “I- I kissed him so he punched me. Just some kid.”

The red in Marc’s face doesn’t fade, and the vein in his head doesn’t deflate, but he stops shouting as he seems to take a minute to catch his breath.

“Sorry,” Jordan says. “Wasn’t meant to worry any—"

Marc wears these rings; gold rings, some with jewels and some not. When the back of his hand strikes Jordan’s cheek, all he feels is metal.

His mom is passed out by then, so he takes himself off to his room and climbs into bed, just a bare mattress now. He lays down with his clothes on but doesn’t fucking cry.

***

Things are kind of off after that. Marc doesn’t have a lot of time for Jordan, and he finds himself hanging out with Danny and the others more often. Or, getting babysat by them – but he forgets that that’s what this is, sometimes.

One evening, sat with Danny and Marco in some flat he’s never been to, Marco tells him, “my old man told me about you,” with that same look in his eye he always has; void; unimpressed; probably stoned, now that he thinks about it.

Jordan just shrugs, just says, “okay,” because God knows he ain’t in the mood for Marco’s attitude when he’s still got a scab healing on his cheek from the back of his dad’s hand.

“Says I should keep my distance. Doesn’t like fags, my old man.”

“’Ey, don’t be a dick, Marco,” Danny says, then adds, “s’alright with me,” as he nudges Jordan’s shoulder, who just looks at him confused. “If you’re a fag. I don’t give a shit,” he clarifies. “My girl’s brother’s a fag. He’s a’right.”

“Fuck off, Danny.” Jordan stands. “Both of you,” he adds before he leaves.

He decides he doesn’t need a babysitter anymore.

[wordpress-blaze-219437556]

Introduction: Into the Ethereal Tapestry

Greetings, seeker of mysteries, and welcome to the arcane realms of Eldritch, where reality and imagination intertwine in a dance of ethereal wonders. Prepare to unravel the enigma of Eldritch, where ancient secrets are etched into the fabric of existence. Join us on a journey through the veiled landscapes and eldritch mysteries that define this otherworldly realm.

Ethereal Landscapes: Painting Dreams with Reality

Eldritch unfolds before you in a dreamscape of surreal beauty. Imagine surreal landscapes where floating islands drift lazily beneath a sky adorned with iridescent hues. Crystal-clear lakes reflect the ephemeral glow of ethereal flora, and towering trees exude auras of mystical energy. Eldritch's landscapes blur the lines between dream and reality, inviting you to explore the uncharted territories of your imagination.

Phantasmal Entities: Guardians of the Ethereal Veil

In the shadows of Eldritch, phantasmal entities emerge as silent guardians of the ethereal veil. Encounter elusive spirits that weave through the air like spectral dancers, their presence a testament to the timeless energy that flows through Eldritch. Engage with ethereal beings whose forms transcend the conventional, existing in a state between the corporeal and the fantastical. Eldritch's guardians beckon you to traverse the ethereal realms with reverence and wonder.

Arcane Riddles: The Language of Eldritch Whispers

Eldritch communicates through arcane riddles, each whispered breeze and shimmering light bearing hidden meaning. Decode the cryptic symbols etched into ancient stones and interpret the dance of mystical lights that flicker along forgotten pathways. Eldritch challenges the mind to unravel its secrets, inviting those who dare to venture into its depths to become conduits of ancient knowledge and arcane wisdom.

Nexus of Eldritch Energies: A Confluence of Realities

At the heart of Eldritch lies a nexus, a confluence of energies that binds together disparate realities. Traverse the ethereal corridors that lead to realms where time is fluid, and dimensions intertwine. Peer into the veiled reflections of alternate existences, where echoes of your own journey reverberate through the tapestry of Eldritch. The nexus is a cosmic junction, inviting explorers to navigate the delicate balance between the known and the unknown.

Conclusion: Carrying the Eldritch Essence

As our journey through the ethereal realms of Eldritch concludes, may the essence of this enigmatic realm linger within your spirit. Carry the mysteries, the beauty, and the arcane wisdom of Eldritch with you as a guide on your continued journey through the tapestry of existence. Let the whispers of Eldritch inspire a perpetual sense of awe and curiosity, reminding you that, in the vastness of the ethereal, there are always new mysteries waiting to be unraveled.

[drunklander]

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 512

Looking for a way to spend Mother’s Day? Well, we here at Outlander have the perfect idea! Celebrate with the women you love by watching us gang rape grannie!

This episode is like the perfect storm of everything that is wrong with Outlander. The cast and crew saying it’s their strongest episode yet when it’s basically artsy gang rape. The CYA trigger warnings when the story would have worked perfectly well without including yet another rape. The kool aid-drinking fans yelling at and acting holier than thou at the fans who rightfully call out the massive problem this show has with rape and assault. The fans yelling at other fans because It’S iN tHe BoOk so it has to be included. The fans yelling at other fans for wanting to follow the books but not wanting rape every 0.5 seconds. The fans yelling at other fans to fuck off if they don’t like the show. The women in the cast throwing out trigger warnings while the men are radio silent or wanting the gladiators to face the plague and fight for their own amusement. It literally has everything.

And I am tired.

I’ve been in this fandom for six years and have had quite a journey. From first discovering the show and immediately devouring the books. The honeymoon period where I could headcanon out all the problematic bits. The getting deep into the fandom nonsense. The getting out of the fandom nonsense. The judging the fandom nonsense because it’s funny and they’re all idiots. The getting sick of the fandom nonsense because it’s not even fun to judge the dummies anymore. The becoming more and more aware that it’s impossible to whistle past the problems in the books and the show. The sticking around, holding out hope things might turn around and the initial magic could be recaptured. And finally, the giving up.

The books are trash. The show is trash. There are a handful of good scenes in each which can be enjoyed on their own, but as a whole, holy shit this stuff is not good. (Seriously, I tried to do a Fiery Cross reread before the season started. I started like a year ago and am still only at Jocasta’s wedding because I just don’t care enough to actually get through it.)

Which brings us here. I am tired. I have already ranted and raged and yelled and swore and wrote far too many words about the gratuitous overuse of rape in the Outlanderverse. It fucking has its own tag for fuck’s sake.

So here’s a recap. And then I think I’m done looking at this show in detail. Not because the idiot fans insist on coming to my notes to tell me to fuck off if I don’t like the show. Not because the crew are condescending douchecanoes. Not because the author is a misogynist garbage heap. But because spending an hour of my time for a few weeks out of the year to write these things isn’t worth it. I did it for as long as I did because it took so little time. So why not? But yeah, it’s not even worth that tiny commitment anymore.

And to the people who I know will @ me about how no one was forcing me to stick around and I could have quit any time, yeah, no shit captain obvious, I know that. Fuck off already. I stuck around because I really liked the little corner of the fandom that I’d found. I made some awesome friends. Most of those friends have since quit the fandom. I’m really glad to have them in my life outside of this little corner of the internet. And it was a fun writing exercise. I don’t really like the show anymore, but I enjoyed building an argument about why I don’t like it and think it’s bad that has valid points behind it. Especially considering how blindly overly adoring a bunch of the fandom is about it. But now I think I’d rather consume Outlander content as pretty people in pretty period costumes in gifsets. Or like, on in the background but not really paying close attention. Why not quit altogether? Because to quote the great Ron Swanson (I’m halfway through a Parks rewatch and I just love that show a lot ok.), I can do what I want. And besides, there’s like a fucking library’s worth of fics that I haven’t read and have been meaning to. And I like the characters enough to want to keep reading about them in stories that are better than the canon. (Bless you fic writers, blesssss.)

So. Was this whole ramble self-indulgent and overly serious for a fucking TV show? Absofuckinglutely. But please see the aforementioned Swansonism.

Alright, fuckos. Let’s do this.

This is a Roberts brainchild, isn’t it. *checks credits* Yup. Knew it. This feels very much like a Roberts special. In that he is probs quite pleased with himself but like, it’s crap.

Yes, we ARE doing ANOTHER rape story! But look! It’s a disassociation montage! It’s the ‘60s, get it?! There are callbacks! An orange from the king in season 2! A vase from season 1! A rabbit from season 3! An amber-looking dragonfly! Jamie with the young hair spouting off book lines! ApPrEcIaTe MuH aRt! We are so good at finding new and creative ways to rape our characters! Fuck off, twatwaffle. You are the worst.

Like, does Roger feel left out at this point? He’s only been hanged. Literally everyone else has either been raped, been sexually assaulted, or been threatened with rape and/or sexual assault.

“But it’s not gratuitous! Look! They’re all so different! Jamie’s was overly graphic and he got a half a season to brood about! We manged to not show much of Fergus’ (but still showed a thrust) because he’s a child and it was just a plot device for Jamie and not actually about him! Mary’s was about Fred! Claire’s with the king was about Jamie! Jamie’s with Geneva was shot like p0rn! Marsali being threatened by the sailors was to motivate Fergus! Bree’s was about the other people in the room and Roger! Claire’s really has no purpose because she’s already been kidnapped and beaten, and that is super traumatic, and we’re gonna wrap it up with a bow by the end of the episode!”

This fucking show, guys. This fucking show.

Bonus points* for the Black character spouting off the superstitious stuff.

*By bonus points I mean this show, and the books are absolute shit on matters of race. The books especially.

The cast and crew have 100% heard everyone’s thoughts on the overuse of rape in the Outlanderverse. And their response has been to include more and more of it. We had a whole season of one character’s arc being about her rape and literally as soon as that was resolved, they gang rape another character. It really does tell you as much as you need to know about them. Lazy. Fucking. Cowards.

Kidnapping not enough trauma? Let’s add some gang rape! Gang rape not enough trauma? Let’s add visualizing that your daughter and grandchild are dead! Just like Fred died! This show really brings trauma p0rn to a whole new level.

Called the Bree and Roger shit.

This scene with the men rallying to go save Claire is like another layer of fuck you. Bree, you stay home, men, give your hero lines and let’s have a getting ready montage. Because your hero moment is what this is really all about. And your manpain about killing someone. *screams into a pillow*

The petty side of me is happy that it was Fergus and Young Ian who are with Claire when they find her and not Roger. Her two sons...

Why yes, I am judging all of the fans who like get their panties all wet over Jamie being like “It is I who kills for her.” Like “yeah go ahead and rape and beat Claire within an inch of her life if it means the big strong man gets to come in and save her and say something intense.” Fuck off and go take a hard look at yourself and what that says about you.

“Was there an Indian there?” “Nope, he wouldn’t help you because LiOnEl but somehow was able to peace out when it was in his interest. Because he is as bad as the ones who actually raped you.”

The Bree and Claire hug makes me both sad and angry. I want to hug them both and take them out of this fucking place and tell them that they’ve been done dirty and deserved fucking better from the writers.

Glad Marsali gets in on the hug. Claire’s two remaining daughters.

Claire’s “I have fucking survived” speech is like the one time she she actually talks about herself not in relation to a man. It’s about her. Claire. HOWEVER! It is epically fucked up that a woman needs to check off all the trauma she’s endured to show she’s a strong character.

So. Fucked. Up.

The fact that we’re spending time on Roger’s manpain about killing someone also really tells us a lot about the show’s feelings toward women. Yeah, killing someone is a big deal. It’s normal and expected to have feelings about it. But the juxtaposition of Claire’s speech about all of her traumas with Roger being like yeah, I killed a guy who had kidnapped, beaten and raped your mom is like, read the room, bro/writers.

The fact that the men put Claire’s rapist in her surgery, her space, her place of healing, where she is able to be most herself, makes me want to punch each and every one of them in the throat. Like seriously. Fuck each and every one of them.

Also Lionel is like cartoonishly terrible. Not that nuance has ever been this show’s strong suit. But like come the fuck on.

Marsali killing Lionel is the one thing about this episode that I didn’t hate. The men are all like “We kill for Claire! Let’s all rally in this montage and go do the manly thing of defending the woman!” Marsali is just like, yeah, that’s my Ma you fucked with. She shows some agency. She doesn’t do it in a performative way for the other men or for Claire like the guys do. She just knows this fuck needs to die, knows it’s gonna be hard for her and might damn her soul (don’t worry Marsali, all that religion crap is bullshit), and does it anyway.

Marsali’s arc has been my favorite of this whole fucking series. The one bright spot I was hanging on to all of this season especially.

Her quick scene with Jamie doesn’t bother me like Roger’s does. Because Roger is like oh no, I killed a guy! Can you forgive me? For killing a rapist? Like fuck off, bro. And Marsali is like yeah, I killed a guy. I hope I’m not damned for it, but the guy needed to die so I did it.

Also like, Richard had potential to not be cartoonishly bad. But like nope. “He reaped what he sowed, but cLeArLy I’m gonna need to escalate this further. Because manly men can’t let shit go.”

Fuck all men, tbh.

*googles how to emigrate to Themyscira*

Jamie’s speech that’s like supposed to parallel Claire’s can fuck all the way off. Giving him the last voice over just underscores how this was all about men. Not Claire. But the men. Fuuuuck everything.

Look! Everything’s fine again! Back to normal! Peaceful for a bit! With a cheesy af on the nose storm coming! So you know something bad’s coming! In case you forgot!

And Jamie got a book line. So it’s all good now.

And don’t worry about Claire, y’all. She feels safe now. Her and Jamie fucked it out.

It’s amazing, in retrospect, that I ever let this story suck me in so much.

Happy Mother’s Day! See you on the other side of the hiatus.

[theadorablespderman]

Everything to love about Far From Home not in this order:

Literally seeing that opening with all our loved avengers that are no more.

Whitney Houston “I will always love you” made me cry because damnit Tony’s face was right THERE! NOT OK!

The blip footage was pretty damn funny not gonna lie.

Peter’s cute ass plan to tell MJ how he feels.

MJ’s favorite flower being a Black Dalia because of the murder. Literally a girl I can relate too. Murderinos for life sister. Idk but it just made her sooo relatable!

The fact that Brad is a kid grown up from the blip and that made him seem all the weirder for MJ.

Jealous Peter was so freaking amazing! Oh my gosh! That face he’d get. I’m a sucker for jealousy and they did it so good.

Making MJ this awesome character she was before but also obviously has this softer layer where she does have flaws and insecurities and she’s really sweet but also so badass. That was amazing.

The starting relationship between Peter and Beck. It was cute and so I was sad knowing that Beck was somehow going to be the villain.

Also let’s talk about how Beck is basically Syndrom from the incredibles.

That scene with Peter and Brad....the pure terror when he snapped that picture

Also seeing how big of a dick Brad is and how unhealthy jealous he was.

“Nick Fury” getting ghosted, showing up in Venice, tranquilising Ned (don’t touch him you monster) and then promptly highjacking Peters Summer trip.

Showing the emotional trama Peter is going through. The anxiety, the greiving. It was very reminiscent of Iron Man 3 when Tony suffers from PTSD after the battle of New York. I loved that they showed Peter reacting as any kid would, many adults too, which is to just try and forget anything happened but being faced with the reality every day. So well done.

Happy and May’s relationship. Enough said 😂😂

I feel cheated we didn’t see Mr delmore again.

Addressing all the problems the Blip/Snap created. High school aging, school, drinking ages, homelessness and housing issues. That’s just the start of it I’m sure but they covered those pretty well and I love that.

The technology that made Beck into Misterio was so well done. Instead of some frankly, kinda far fetched story that he came from an alternate earth (which I was willing to believe but felt it was a cop out in terms of plot and character) they showed the real world issues that superhero’s can create. The Enemies that have a real deep rooted hatred for hero because they’ve personally been betrayed or wronged by them. Because marvel has always made clear, everyone is not on the hero’s side.

Steeping Misterio’s powers in tech which is classing marvel but again, so brilliantly done in this movie. I loved the development. Because at first glance, half way through, I was thinking “wow this is really kinda weird and unexplained and too witchcraft for what marvel usually brings to the superpower backstory” I know it’s weird to say after everything marvel has done. But it seemed just a tad out there without being too hard to grasp. Which again was brilliantly done because that was the whole point.

The nod to Misterio’s helmet even when Beck was in the hologram suit watching everything play out. I guess it was his screen? But I loved the staple of even without his big over the top suit he still had the trademark helmet. Great costume design.

Peter’s soft gazes towards MJ. Nearly gave me a cavity they were so sweet! Ahhh sooo cute

Mr. Harrington’s marital problems nearly made me pee my pants....we all knew here in the fandom that shit like that would half to happen but my god lol

The opera scene was sooo freakin cute and that one step Peter took when he saw Brad move in was so freaking cute and hot!

MJ running after him and finding the critical peice of information to crack the case wide open. Loved it.

Betty and Ned’s Sicily sweet romance that you knew couldn’t possibly last. They really nailed the realistic high school romance. But I still ship it.

The bus scene was epic. And when Peter knocked Flash out...god it was amazing.

Mj obviously having love eyes towards Peter same as he does for her.

THE FACT THAT HE ACTUALLY BOUGHT THAT NECKLACE FOR HER OH MY GOD! I CANT GET A GUY TO TEXT ME BACJ LET ALONE BUY A NECKLACE LIKE THAT WHICH PROBABALY COST A GOOD CHUNK OF CHANGE IT WAS SO FREAKING AMAZING AND CUTE AND TOUCHING.

All the iron man images got me feeling depressed as hell

“are you being serious because I was only like 67% sure?” That was amazing. Seeing MJ get so excited and trying to keep that hidden was awesome

The fact that she was so pleased with herself but also played it hella cool when Ned walked in and she said she figured it out. Literally that is me.

The shirtless Peter trope that we all wanted and freaking got! So freaking cute how she tried to peak at his abs. Like understandable girl.

The fucking illusions. Turning our sweet trusting Peter into a ball of mess. I was too.

God when he had to tell himself it wasn’t real but it still totally feels like it is.

Him trying to save MJ when she’s “thrown off the Eiffel Tower”

Every traumatizing thing Beck shows and tells him during the illusion. So shitty.

Seeing Tony’s grave, seeing iron man come out. That was awful and we all felt it in the movie because we’ve lost him too. We could FEEL that slap same as Peter.

Beck telling Peter that Tony’s death was his fault. I was abouta hurl myself at the movie screen.

Every illusion done in a way that just when you think it’s over, it’s never stopped. You forget what’s real and you feel trapped in it same as Peter does.

WHEN HE GETS HIT BY THE TRAIN!!!!!!!!!! Nearly had a damn heart attack!!!! My mom had to look over and ask if I was ok because I literally stopped breathing for a solid 30 seconds.

Showing gradually just how insane and evil Misterio was.

HAPPY BEING CONCERNED FOR PETER! LIKE SINCERELY AND HONESTLY CONCERNED! It’s good to know he’s got Happy to take care of him and May but that Peter still has a father type figure he can count on after Tony. Because you know Tony wouldn’t have put up with any of that getting hit by a train shit.

Also where the hell was Karen? We missed her. We got Edith but Karen wouldn’t have let Misterio take her over. WHERE WAS KAREN!!

Peter crying and needing to know Happy was real. Broke me heart

That hug between them was so sweet and you can see the concern on Happy’s face

Happy and Peter opening up to each other was so awesome considering their relationship in Homecoming.

ALL THE TONY and PETER PARRELLS! All of them!!!!!!!!! Not the people saying “Spider-Man’s the next Ironman” no the actual hints and glimpses at how similar him and tony actually are. The hologram gauntlet shot, a straight parallel to Iron Man when Tony is building his first real suit. Obviously “Back in Black” by Led Zeplen (formally known as AC/DC) playing. Another obvious hint toward Tony. The Stark sunglasses. Peter falling with the parachute and it literally looks like Ironman with his jet stream behind him from a distance. There’s so much more I’ll do a whole other post on.

Of course: “I love Led Zeplin!” Hahaha it’s such a kid thing to say! I’ve said it before I knew the big differences between AC/DC and Led Zeplin. It was so freaking perfect.

Peter making his suit and Happy’s face. Bittersweet and I live for the affection he holds for Peter now.

The Netherlands Holding cell...must I say more?

Brad’s downfall and MJs amazing comment about him taking pictures of people in the bathroom. Ep-ic. Even flash was like “bro that’s so weird”

Mr. witchcraft was hilarious and I loved his aside with Brad “I’m gonna be the cool teacher and tell you you can’t do that anymore.”

Flash is definately Gay or Bi and I’m so here for it. That wink he makes to Peter proves it.

All the near death truths in the vault of the tower.

MJ BADDASS COMES SWINGING WITH THE MACE AND IT WAS LEGINDARY OH MY GOD! YES GIRL! She’s my idol I love her so much.

Peter and his “Peter Tingle” And while we’re on the subject the banana he gets to the face while packing.

Important. His amazing skills at the end trusting his instincts (which is great because May says in regards to MJ, but it applies to this too) May tells Peter to trust his instincts and don’t think too much. And that’s what he does when he defeats Beck.

The bad ass “you can’t fool me anymore” after redirecting the gun away from his head at the end. Literally was so intense and well done.

Peter and MJ’s kisses! I loved how awkward it was at first and the slightly less awkward one. They really accurately captured the awkwardness of teenagers in love. Like that’s what it’s like guys.

Show me MJ’s parents you cowards, or show me something. Anything. I just want to know the nature of the situation.

Ned and Betty’s breakup. So funny and honestly not surprising at all. But still I ship them.

The hand hold. So cute.

May and Peter still being the cutest aunt and nephew duo there ever was.

I totally thought Peter was going to end with telling the world he was spiderman....BUT SOME OTHER ASSHOLES DID IT FOR HIM AND MADE HIM INTO A VILLAN AND IM PISSED. LOOKING AT YOU MR JAMESON YOU PEICE OF SHIT.

The movie ended and I have no idea what’s next.

Mid credit of MJ swinging through New York. Home girl doesn’t like and neither do I. Looks full on terrifying we don’t blame you hun.

After credit where the skrulls have been playing Maria and Nick fury for the whole movie. Honestly it made more sense because Nick fury seemed just a bit off. ALSO WHERE IS THE REAL NICK FURY at and I’m so psyched to see where this new movies are gonna go!

Alright that all for now folks!!!! Everything about the movie was great!!! I will have to watch again ad see if anything more pops up. Sorry for any spelling errors I’m on my phone.

[devil-kindred]

character study: remi price

I was tagged by @chyrstis for the character study meme and took it as an opportunity to talk about my newest baby!

LAYER 01: THE OUTSIDE  

NAME: Remi Price

EYE COLOUR: Dark Green, almost pine green.

HAIR STYLE / COLOUR: Auburn/Red-brown but more on the coppery side. Remi likes to wear her hair down and loose, but if she’s working on a vehicle or out in the shit she puts up in the messiest bun imaginable- and it’s anyone’s guess to how it stays.

HEIGHT: 5′6″

CLOTHING STYLE: Generally jeans and tank tops/t-shirts and the occasional flannel. She has a leather jacket she digs out every once in a while but it’s usually reserved when she’s on the bike... which isn’t too terribly often anymore.

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE: If you asked Remi, she’d roll her eyes then quirk her mouth in a smile and tell you to guess. Your biggest hint would be the little wiggle she’d give her lip ring. Remi has a nice smile, and many people would tell her (if they weren’t wary of the wrench often in her hands) that she might have more less scared clients if she weren’t scowling all the time. Remi argues she has a severe case of what they'd called RBF back in the day but... honestly the scowling keeps majority of unwanted gentlemen away.

LAYER 02: THE INSIDE

FEAR:  If we’re talking literal fears, rager bears and screamers. Rager bears because, well they’re bears that can take an insane amount of damage and just... not care at all. And Screamers for the fact that they 1) sound HORRENDOUS and 2) alert other infected. Tack on either of those with being trapped somewhere with no escape route and you have Remi’s absolute worse nightmare.

GUILTY PLEASURE: Remi really likes cheesy romance novels from before the world went to shit where the biggest worry someone had was humorous miscommunication. She also is ecstatic whenever she can find some books more on the erotica side but she would sooner throw her tools in Lost Lake than admit that.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE: People absconding with her tools/borrowing without asking or just moving her stuff in general. It took her ages to find what she needed to supplement her work and she’ll be damned if she’s letting anyone take them from her. Working on vehicles and her bike is the only thing that feels normal anymore.

Also, total strangers getting all touchy feely on her bike. That thing is her baby and if you so much as look at it funny she’s ready to kick your ass.

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE: Finding somewhere to settle down for good where she can still work on things but also not deal with Freakers what feels like every damn day.

LAYER 03: THOUGHTS

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP: Well, didn’t die via freaker so I guess there’s that.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST: Food from before being stuck out in the shit. The things this woman would do for a burger.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED: Whatever work she has lined up next or wherever she has to travel next.

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS: Remi is stubborn and she knows it. She’d argue that as her best quality because it means that if you give her a problem to solve, she’s not giving up until she’s resolved it.

LAYER 04: EITHER OR

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES: Single. Remi feels awkward enough on a date, let alone with several people there to witness the awkwardness.

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED: Respected, hands down.

BEAUTY OR BRAINS:  She likes people who are intelligent but if you’re really nice to look at (Deacon) she won’t mind.

DOGS OR CATS: Dogs! She’s mostly indifferent to cats but dogs? Oh you’ll never see someone bust out the baby talk voice faster.

LAYER 05: DO THEY

LIE: Oh yeah. She’s big on burying her feelings so if you ask her if something’s bothering her she’s gonna lie through her teeth and say no.

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES: It’s debateable. Sometimes she has a “I can do anything if I try hard enough” mentality. Other times... not so much.

BELIEVE IN LOVE: Unless you count the absolute embodiment of the heart eyes emoji Remi makes upon seeing Boozer for the first time, no.

WANT SOMEONE: Oooh boy does she. Both someone she can’t have (a certain biker) and someone she actually has a chance with and doesn’t think wants her.

LAYER 06: HAVE THEY

BEEN ON STAGE: Nope!

DONE DRUGS: Absolutely not.

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN: Remi tried it once and then promptly said “fuck it” and went back to her normal self. You don’t like the pierced punk-rock look, whatev. Remi could care less.

LAYER 07: WHAT’S THEIR

FAVORITE COLOR: Remi’s favorite color is purple. Usually the deepest shade you can find.

FAVORITE ANIMAL: Remi loves birds of any kind... until she sees the mutated ones with the freaker virus. Those she hates.

FAVORITE BOOK: She would never admit it but she has a very battered copy of “a tale of two cities” hidden in her saddlebag.

FAVORITE GAME: There’s not much time for games out in the world anymore but Remi used to love old-school stuff like PAC-man and arcade games.

LAYER 08: AGE

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE: Sep 21st

HOW OLD THEY WILL BE: Twenty-nine

LAYER 09: I…

I LOVE: The freedom being on my bike gives me and those echoes of normal when you can truly be comfortable around people again.

I FEEL: A little lost at times. Not knowing where I’m going next is part of it but having no place and no one to call home? Yeah it sucks.

I HIDE: My feelings. I shouldn’t but why should I burden anyone else with what I’m dealing with? am I using Remi as a coping mechanism for how I deal with things? Perhaps.

I MISS: Having a home, diner food, music, not worrying every day.

I WISH: Things were different. That the world hadn’t gone belly up and that some things from the old days still remained. It is what is, though. Isn’t it?

[hollenka99]

The Creator

Summary: When Sean discovers he has the ability to bring his characters to life, he wasn’t expecting to be shunned by them or for it to lead to tragedy time and time again.

Warnings: Blood mention, implied death (including children), kidnapping mention

Sean wishes he never went to Max's house that night. It wasn't any fun. They were just really mean to him and he didn't like it. It's not like he didn't try to stay awake. It was a dumb anyway. His mother asks him if he'd like her to speak with Max's mother. He tells her no. In response she encourages him to stop moping about if it wasn't that bad. Well, fine then. Max sucks and Sean can make a way better friend than him any day. Right, what kind of qualities should a good friend have? He should be kind always, never teases him in a mean way, be willing to be there for him and want to join in with his games. For the hell of it, Sean adds 'never sleeps' to the criteria. This imaginary friend is named Jack, after the family nickname. Having been moulded into the 6 year old's interpretation of a perfect friend, Jack becomes a concrete part of Sean's life. Jack is always there when he gets home from school. They mess around in the woods near the house, complain about homework together and share a great deal of laughter between themselves. For years, his parents and siblings brush it off as him being a little boy. However, Sean is undeniably getting older. With each birthday, having an imaginary friend is increasingly becoming something he should outgrow. And he is, somewhat. It's just that Jack feels so real to him. But his friend understands. Sean is no longer 6 and it is time for him to gradually mature. He gets crushes, makes his way through secondary school and decides he may have made a mistake with his original degree choice. Through it all, he's maintained an interest in video games. So screw it, there is a place for gaming content on YouTube. What does he have to lose? This damn cabin doesn't exactly allow him many opportunities to socialise with those outside his family otherwise. He goes by Jacksepticeye on the website, harkening back to a nickname he gained following an injury years before. Months pass and it is soon July. To his surprise, his channel's subscriber count reaches 1000. He's delighted. That was 1000 more than he'd ever really expected. He films a vlog to mark the occasion and thank his audience. Something he'd expected even less than his sub count was his doppelganger, complete with an identical outfit, collapsing in front of his television. Regaining composure after getting to his feet, the clone speaks. "Um, hi Sean." "What the fuck? Who are you and why do look like me?" "I'm Jack." "Okay. Hello Jack. What the hell are you doing in my living room?" "No, Jack as in... Jack. From when you were a kid." Sean stands there, no words coming from his mouth. He seems to remember himself after a minute. "But you're imaginary. You were an imaginary friend, it's kind of in the name." "I guess that's changed." Jack shrugs, obviously as lost as he was by this unique situation. Sean falls back onto the sofa. With his hands in his hair, he lets out a deep breath. Jack gently sits himself on the other side of the sofa. Not bothering to lift his head, Sean opens his mouth. "I'm going to be honest. This was not how I imagined my day going." "I didn't think I'd suddenly come to life either." Sean leans back and their eyes meet. A beat passes before they both descend into laughter at the absurdity of it. That summer is phenomenal compared to his previous expectations for it. He introduces Jack to so many things that he usually took for granted. They eat more tubs of ice cream together than was healthy, don't allow a week to pass without a competitive gaming session and occasionally wander about in the woods surrounding the cabin. There was apparently a whole other world with people Jack haphazardly described as 'the NPCs to my main character'. Their faces were probably based on people Sean had walked past in the street. There was this completely separate world and the entry point was simply lingering outside his cabin. It was inconceivable. When he gets the courage to venture through the gateway, he discovers it's actually a bit remote. Isolated, like his cabin is. Jack helps him laugh it off. Besides, he couldn't be expected to be creative with his literal worldbuilding if he didn't know how he was doing it in the first place. Jack introduces him to a friend who was like him. This Australian guy called Angus Irwin tags along to a hang out session. Here was this person, standing right before him, whom he was entirely responsible for creating. By messing around in Far Cry 3 and putting on a dumb accent, he'd created life. What the hell was he capable of? The three of them are firm friends by the time the local trees have suffered a significant loss of leaves. He and Jack gradually become the joint face of the Jacksepticeye channel. For some reason (Jack cited Sean's 6 year old self for this) his doppelganger didn't sleep. This was actually very beneficial for him because he could edit while Sean slept. God knows Jack complained enough about his sleep schedule. When he gets announced as a winner of Pewdiepie's shout out competition in September, Jack swings by to congratulate him. Along with Angus, the trio spent the evening celebrating this bizarre occasion. There was a lot of work he'd have to put in to keep the momentum going but Sean knew it would be worth it in the end. The colder months fly by after that. Jack had never been particularly affected by the cold before. However, now that he could feel it, he suffered the consequences of not wearing enough layers. Jack detesting the cold is funny to Sean, especially after how much his friend thrived in summer. Angus wasn't used to the lower Irish temperatures either. He helped them stay warm as best he could. That goddamn cabin with its internally forming frost didn't help but still, he tried. He jokes he should conjure up more radiators for Jack and Angus' home despite not having the faintest clue how to actually do so. As the new year approaches, Sean realises he never gave Jack a birthday. They could have celebrated in November because he is maybe 90% sure Max was born during that month. Therefore, Jack would have been initially thought up during November 1996. But Sean had no idea what the specific date of creation was. Not to mention November had already passed anyway. There was that date in July but he wasn't sure he should pick the anniversary of Jack becoming corporeal as his birthday. At a loss, he goes for the day he associates with birthdays the most. Who says Jack couldn't share his birthday? He blanks on what to get his friend. He's not sure where he gets the dumb idea to let Jack experience hot chocolate for the first time as a birthday treat. Jack gets understandably frustrated by this ban on the drink. It pays off when Sean gets to witness the wonderful sight of his friend enjoying hot chocolate. Lost on what to give Angus for his birthday in early April, he approaches Jack for ideas. His friend suggests getting a toy leopard and jewellery that can fit on the animal. Sean can't help but question the odd combination. When Jack explains leopards love jewellery, especially the gold digging females, it's as if these were widely known facts. Sean had been bullshitting when he'd spouted that nonsense. Jack reminds him it was factual to Angus. Oh alright, fuck it. Let's present Angus with a jewellery loving leopard on his birthday. As predicted, the Australian wildlife man greatly appreciates the gift. It's late summer once more when Sean's problems begin. Jack mentions being concerned about their friend's changing sleeping habits. Then Angus' memory gradually starts suffering. Throughout 2015, Angus gets worse. Jack's always had a big mouth. He tends to speak before he truly thinks things through. Sean's technically to blame for that. However, it hasn't been much of an issue until now. The first time Jack brings up potentially finding a way to reverse whatever was affecting Angus, he hates to reject him. The painfully dejected look in his best friend's eyes breaks his heart. He wants to help, he really does. He just can't. Not long after, he spends an hour or two looking for a game with an open world. Perhaps he could put on an Australian accent for the anniversary of the character's first appearance. Nothing comes up. Life gets in the way. Sean abandons the search for a while. Jack never allows him to forget for too long. What starts as "I'm worried about Angus" soon morphs into "Angus only called me Jake once today". The longer it goes on, the more desperate Jack gets. And angrier. Sean has never seen such frustrated fury in his friend. He wishes he never had to. He's not even sure if he can call himself a true friend anymore, given how much he's already failed them. The cycle of attempting to find a solution and putting it on the back burner due to no leads continues. As do the arguments with Jack. Contrary to popular belief, he is putting in the effort. The main problem was he never seemed to have anything to show for it. He still cares for Angus too. The reason he wasn't visiting their home as often was because he didn't always feel welcome. As was in Jack's nature, he kept forgiving him. He'd say it was fine and Sean would agree for the sake of it. But it wasn't fine. He is beginning to forget when the last time things were 'fine'. Following some filming with Ninja Sex Party, Sean is excited to dress up as a superhero for a bit during a Welcome To The Game video. Jack is just as pleased to make a new friend. Jackie is a surprise, his young age even more so. He was 16 and, as far Jack had told him, brimming with excess energy. The new arrival had been a shock for Jack too, apparently. The most he could offer the kid last night was a can of Dr Pepper and some custard creams. Shit, this was new territory. He hasn't had to deal with a new ego in years. Jackie's age causes conversations about school and whether the boy would need an education in the first place. Sean doesn't necessarily see the point. Was Jackie currently the only minor in their world? Because in that case, has a high school suddenly popped up to accommodate a single student? Even if Sean created a character with children at a later date, the kids would probably be the wrong age group to attend school with Jackie. If it was that important to Jack to see the young superhero have an education, he would have to do it himself. Being home-schooled would also allow Jackie to do his job. Attempts at being responsible aside, he ensures Jackie knows he can come to him if needs anything specific. Naturally, he gravitates to Jack as his adult role model. Sean doesn't mind. They live together and Jackie therefore has easier access to him. But Sean is still there if the need arises. A month later, he buys a cheap cat mask that covers half of his face. It was something to use once and forget about until you throw it away in a big spring clean. The magic set was the same, only with extra smaller parts. The video is nothing spectacular. All it entailed was him messing around with the box's contents before switching to decorating the mask. The last thing he was anticipating was the creation of life. Although, by this point, perhaps he should have. Besides, he hadn't even given himself a name. It was just 'Jack the Magnificent'. Jack comes to rectify this oversight a couple days later. He explains he'd made the suggestion the night of Marvin's arrival. The box had the name on it so why not let the new ego make it his own? The main issue Jack had with all this was that Marvin had not been planned in the slightest. With Jackie, there'd been some preparation. Neither of them may have foreseen his creation but at least there had been a name and outfit. All Marvin had was a mask, plus a name that was already taken. "This better not happen again." Jack privately demands. "I don't want another Angus. God knows you're not going to help." Jack swings by at the end of August to inform him Jackie's in hospital. He'd gotten stabbed while confronting a thief. He was fine, recovering well and all that but he thought Sean might want to know. On the subject of requiring medical care, Jack brings up the idea to have a doctor ego. Just someone who understood their unique situation and could also take care of their health. Oh, oh yeah. He can totally do that. He'll need some things for the video so give him a chance to prepare but definitely, one doctor coming right up. He feels somewhat dumb playing Operation as if it were a serious procedure in this cheap surgeon's outfit he bought over the weekend. And yes, even he can admit the 'German' accent was atrocious. Half of what comes out of his mouth is bullshit. If this works as intended and he creates an ego from it, this guy is sure going to be interesting. He pretends to be distressed over Peter's death. Then it hits him that Dr Schneeplestein probably won't appreciate him killing his friend and personal accountant. He could try refilm it but he doubts he has the time. Fix it through editing? Sure, but then it might be obvious that there was another part. Alright fine, maybe he'll just have to deal with the consequences. Dr Henrik von Schneeplestein is indeed an interesting guy. A married father too, which surprises him. Not only has he made the doctor, there is a new family of 5 in the egos' neighbourhood. One of these days he'll know what he's doing with this creation thing. For now though, he thinks it's very cool that he managed a 5 for the price of 1 deal. Henrik himself is intelligent and if Sean was more knowledgeable on certain topics, he's sure they'd be able to share thoughtful conversations. Either way, Henrik was incredibly busy with his professional duties and personal commitments. It was understandable that neither had much time in the day to sit down and truly get to know one another. For the hell of it, he throws in a little extra into the egos' characterisation. They can't die. Or, to be more specific, they can't die for long. Jackie gets stabbed and bleeds out? Easy, just deal with the wound and he should wake up after a while. What this means for Peter, who knows? Sean is secretly thankful when the accountant isn't granted life. That's one less person to keep happy. Like seemingly everything ego-related he does, it backfires. Within a year, this failsafe will have caused more suffering than hope. Sean isn't to know. However, he convinces himself he's done the right thing for once. He sure as hell knows how much trouble it's going to cause him if they don't believe that too. Sean makes an irreversible mistake in the October of 2016. The entire month, he has glitches sprinkled throughout his horror game videos. He gets so caught up in the teasing and build up that he doesn't contemplate how this will affect the egos. Worse yet, he recklessly allows Jack to film the Halloween video. Sure, he would have used a bit of red paint if it had been him filming. But since it was Jack? He doesn't want to imagine the scene Jackie discovers. God, he can't believe he's been so thoughtless. Signe has to encourage him to bed before he manages to rack up over 24 hours of being awake in one go. Resurrecting the dead is exhausting, he finds. He postpones visiting Jack for a day before realising his avoidance is likely making matters worse. The dread cumulates to the point he swears he will be sick if he doesn't actively focus on his breathing. The loophole he made in September might have ensured nobody died permanently but it never mentioned scars. It's not visible behind the bandages but he knows it's there. Jack is pissed off. Rightfully so. Matters worsen even more after Jackie vanishes while attempting to get away from their fighting. It's just another thing that's ruined the egos' perception of him. If he thought the hill Jack was ready to die on was Angus, he's got another thing coming. There's only so much he can take before he has to force apathy for the sake of his sanity. He understands he can't control Antisepticeye. Once this situation is dealt with, he vows, the demon will never be used on his channel again. The subscribers' love for the character will have to ignored. It's too risky to play Anti again. He puts the red suit on again. In the short video, only a minute or so in length, Jackie sprints through poorly lit corridors to the exit. Sean acts scared and looks behind him frequently as he runs. It is uploaded privately. His community didn't need to know anything about this. He hopes with everything he's got that it works. Nothing. For days, for weeks, for months. Sean doesn't bother letting the egos know what he'd tried to do. It's guaranteed Jack and Marvin would tell him to try harder. He has no idea what that means in this context. Christmas passes without incident. As does January. In February, he celebrates his 27th birthday alongside Jack. It's a day devoid of resentment. Sean had almost forgotten that was allowed in their friendship. He exaggerates his dissatisfaction about getting older. In response to this, Jack smears the frosting of his slice across Sean's face. 'Accidentally', of course. Just as accidentally as Sean reciprocated the action. Signe humours them by taking photographs of their new cake-based look. The next time they are hanging out in Jack's room, he notices a picture from that day is in a frame on his friend's dresser. "What's this about?" "Oh uh, this is going to sound dumb but... I like being reminded it isn't always so rough between us." "No. No, I get it. I um, I feel the same way. That day was great." He glances at the image once more. He lets out a humoured scoff. "Maybe I should save your dumb face to my phone." "Aww, wow, I knew you loved me really." Jack puts his arm around his shoulder. A playful shove. "Fuck off." In an emotional slump during April, he buys a bunch of Lyons boxes and mini chocolate eggs. It's just a parody of Dude Perfect from someone with zero accuracy. Then he does the stupid thing and creates life again. Fuck it, his wife hates him and he may never see his kids again. Chase Brody's depression causes him to pretend to shoot himself before the end card plays. When Jack calls him and demands to know what the hell he was thinking, Sean has no answer. It turns out that when the ending translated into Chase's reality, he'd actually shot himself in the head. Fuck. Afterwards, Jack doesn't provide his creator with any updates. Insisting he has the right to talk to Chase only makes him more hated. Despite having never met before, Chase already resents him. The next time an ego is intentionally created, Sean's going to be there to intercept them. They're not going to enter that home and have their opinion of him influenced by people who wished he wasn't in their lives. The next new guy would be given a fair chance to see Sean for what he was. A massive screw up when it came to the ability he's unsure how to master. But in no way was he some villain. August is around the corner when Jack asks to visit. The two of them seem to be on the same page that day. Sean is more than happy to hang out and cheer him up. Believing Jack would be empathetic, he begins a conversation about how the YouTube algorithm was bothering him. Over three years of working as a duo on the Jacksepticeye channel meant Jack should understand where he was coming from. But, of course, his friend makes it all about himself and his own problems. Why wouldn't he? It's what he usually does. They argue because apparently that's the only way they communicate with each other nowadays. Jack sure knows how to pack a punch. Being friends with him shouldn't be such a struggle. Sean snaps. The emotional fatigue of trying to keep up with the algorithm and all this fighting causes him to make one of the worst decisions he'd ever go through with. If Jack wants him to be the bad guy, fine. Sean would be the bad guy. Just this once, he'd actually be the asshole. "You want to sleep, I'll let you sleep." He threatens when Jack begins walking off mid-argument. "Bring back Jackie. He's been missing for months. Do something!" Jack flings viciously back seconds before he marches out the door. He can tell Signe regrets asking him how the gaming session went. He dresses as Schneeplestein as soon as he finalises his plan, pretending he aims to save a version of himself in Bio Inc Redemption. He loses. Oops. He acts as he feels the real Schneeplestein would, desperate not to watch another patient die. He sends the video to Robin for editing. The final uploaded product is nowhere near what he'd recorded. His audience are all talking about Anti. They were praising him for his acting and Robin for his editing. But... he never included Anti. Any recollection of filming the final scene was non-existent. And the parts with Henrik getting possessed weren't him either. The more he thinks about it, the further the terror sets in. Over the course of years, Jack had chipped at Sean's mind until he cracked. It had only meant to end with Jack slipping into a coma. Just a chance for Sean to focus on his own problems for once. He would have gotten Henrik to wake his patient up when Sean was ready. God, he just wanted peace for a change. It was never meant to happen like this. Marvin ever so pleasantly greets him with a "Fuck off" when he tries to visit Jack. He supposes he deserves it. But he didn't come here just to back down at the first sight of opposition. He may have caused Jack to be in that coma but, as his friend, he was still entitled to a visit. He has to push past Marvin just to get in. "Leave right now before I make you regret it." Marvin tails him through the corridor. "Hey, listen, I'll be the first to admit I fucked up big time-" He says over his shoulder. "You don't say." "But he was my friend too. I am seeing him whether you like it or not." "Well, I don't like it. And this is my home. So get out." Fed up to the back teeth of Marvin, he halts to whip around before lashing out. "We both know a bad mood on my part can spell disaster for you. That is how we got into this situation is the first place. So I would watch your mouth." "Oh, look at me, I'm Sean McLoughlin. I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it." Marvin uses a mocking tone before reverting to venom once more. "Guess that's what you told your 'best friend' before you put him in a fucking coma, isn't it?" "Don't you dare suggest I don't care." "You made him feel like he had no choice but to keep being nice to your sorry ass. He barely survived Halloween and now look where he's en-" "God, cut it out!" Chase marches towards them, looking as if he was 30 seconds from grabbing a weapon to silence them. "Both of you. Sean, you have 10 minutes then we want you gone. Marv, leave him alone because we honestly have enough shit going on without you stirring more of it." Marvin bluntly says "Five." "Okay, fine, you have 5 minutes then you leave." The magician clearly isn't satisfied with this compromise but decides it's not worth the effort of fighting further. "Thank you." "It wasn't for you. I did it so I can avoid a headache." Chase promptly leaves him to it. He's not even sure he wants to enter once he reaches the infirmary's doors. Still, he's gone through too much trouble to get this far. He can't undo all that effort now. He walks into the room and- Nope, he can't do this. He means, look at Jack! He makes for an awful sight. If his friend had looked terrible while recovering from Say Goodbye, this was a whole other level. He decides against making it past the doors. He's simply there in the corridor, sobbing. "Sean, I think you should go before Marvin tries to commit arson or something." It's the most patience Chase can muster after all that's happened this week. Sean can't appreciate the effort enough. He answers with a mix of 'Uh-huh, yeah, sure.' Jackie looks like he hasn't eaten a thing in the past 11 months when Sean answers the door to him in early October. He doesn't know what to say. If Jack were currently conscious, he would have probably informed Sean of the kid's arrival by now. Yet, as it stood, Marvin seemed to be the new 'leader' and pigs would fly before he bothered to do anything that benefited Sean. He notices Jackie never lets his feet touch the ground the entire time he's there. There is a long silence in the living room before Jackie comes out with "Why didn't you do anything?" "I tried but it didn't work." "Somehow I struggle to believe that." "Jackie-" "You could have prevented a lot of shit. But why fucking bother when we're not even real, right?" "If you give me a couple minutes, I could find that video where I tried to trigger your escape." Jackie doesn't reply. He locates the footage for him regardless. The teenager remains silent the whole time. Sean decides to break it. "It must have backfired but I did try." He notices Jackie glaring at his own legs. "Great, now I know you're to blame. Not to mention you moved country while I was gone. Thanks for making me walk from Athlone, by the way." The boy superhero abruptly makes his exit, making no attempt to elaborate. Well then, great chat. Except, wait. Walk from Athlone? How the hell do you walk from Athlone to Brighton?! Sean makes good on the promise he made to himself months before. He risks uploading the pictures to Instagram. On the 29th, there is a fair amount of hype at the potential new character. He lingers inconspicuously near the egos' home for a couple hours, keeping himself occupied with his phone in case the ego didn't appear. Which he doesn't. He repeats the activity after posting the 2nd photo on the 30th. Still nothing. It's the video on Halloween that triggers creation. It was a simple thing. The same as the previous two years, he had carved a pumpkin. The main difference was that he had dressed up like a dapper gentleman, waistcoat and bowler hat inclusive. There was some glitching at the end, nothing Sean or Robin had a hand in. He supposes he should be glad there was such a small interruption. Outside the house, he spots the lost time traveller. His first surprise, for both of them it would seem, was that Jameson had lost the ability to speak. He seems reluctant to use the speech slides. No worries. Sean can buy a notepad or two for him tomorrow. Learning to sign, or in the very least understand it. will take a considerable amount of time. Written responses would have to be a sufficient compromise for now. Either way, the most important thing was that Jameson was willing to come with him before he met the others. He is in awe of Jameson. He knows he'd intended to create an ego with a proper backstory but this was far more than he'd been expecting. He had drafted a brief life story beforehand. Jameson would be the middle child of three in an upper class British family. He'd be too young to join WW1 but his brother would lose his hearing to it, allowing Jameson to know sign by the time he went missing. Maybe throw in some time in the army for good measure. However his power worked, it filled in the gaps nicely. Jameson is fully fleshed out, as are his memories. "Thanks for humouring me." He tells Signe that night. She hums in acknowledgement of what he'd said. "You can't keep him here forever, you realise that, right? I'll let you have tomorrow. But you really should let him make his own choices after that." On the 1st, Chase comes knocking. Sean relents, allowing him in to be introduced to Jameson. As expected, Chase calls him out. He assures Jameson that it was fine to go with the unfamiliar ego. As hostile as Chase was, he was still trustworthy and believed he had Jameson's best interests at heart. He lets his latest creation go. Now he will be taught the egos' version of the 'truth'. He doubted Jameson would be rushing back. But oh, there he is days later. It's completely reasonable for the dapper man to want answers. Sean provides them to the best of his ability. Jameson surprises him once more when he says he'll let the deception slide if he cuts it out from now on. Of course he will. As Jameson heads off back to his world, Sean is thankful he made him open minded. While having a casual conversation, Jameson mentions befriending someone named Shawn. At first, Sean is simply perplexed at the written name. Jameson knows how to spell his name, even includes the fada. So surely Shawn couldn't be him. When he has his friend explain, he can't believe it. Shawn Flynn. In other words, his Bendy voice cameo. Okay, egos like Henrik, Chase or Marvin, he could understand. Those guys had gotten specific videos that centred around them. He also got the whole 'springing from him putting on a voice for a series' thing with Angus and Jacques etc. Robbie... well, who the fuck knows what happened there. The point was they all came from his channel and his channel alone. Shawn Flynn was not his to claim. He was only a voice, a few sentences' worth of speech. He will always be amazed by his community's power to create from scraps. As soon as he lost Jack's contribution to the channel, he had been forced to pick up the slack. Even with Robin editing most videos, recording twice as many as he was used to was taking its toll. Something had to be done. He needed a new recording partner. And who better to help him than someone who already had experience with maintaining a channel? Obviously, Chase is opposed to the idea at first. He tries to get him to listen to his reasoning. Without Jack, he was struggling to have time for himself anymore. If he has no time outside of work, then how is he supposed to figure out how to reverse the coma? Not to mention, the community members were the ones responsible for keeping the egos from fading. Chase agrees to, in the very least, consider the offer. Sean is glad to have him as part of the team when he reluctantly accepts it. He is very grateful too. He knows this requires a sacrifice on Chase's part, perhaps more than he is aware of. In the run up to Christmas, he'd simply wanted to raise money for Save The Children with the help of his friends and community. There had occasionally been odd noises throughout the first day but nothing super suspicious. He has no clue where the hell the security footage came from. He had intended for the stream to stay up, sure, but it was meant to display a screensaver. Some people begin to notice the glitches and unusual goings on were triggered by donations of at least $1000. Well, how nice to learn that Anti liked encouraging charitable donations. The day after the event is over, Jameson attempts to speak to him about it. Listen, he's really sorry to hear about what happened over at the house. It's awful that Jackie suffered a huge panic attack from the music. But what do they expect him to do about an event that's already passed and he had no control over in the first place? The less he has to think about 'Overnightwatch' over the holidays, or Anti in general during the new year, the better. He's so fucking done with 2017. The following cold months blur. The Dr Jacksepticeye character becomes a community-made ego in January. That was great. He was aware the egos had been struggling to provide Jack professional medical care. March sees Chase getting custody of his kids on the weekend. Although he doesn't risk ruining the party with the scene his attendance would cause, he congratulates Chase on the good news in person. To top things off, he began the first leg of his tour. That had been a hell of an experience. Maybe 2018 would indeed be a better year. This hope is kept alight at the start of May. He had spent months attempting to work out how to save Jackie. Following that, they lost Henrik only to welcome the hero back. Then the doctor had been out of reach since August. It is for this reason that he receives the news of Henrik's return with great relief. Chase is ecstatic when he recounts what had happened at the end of his recording session. Sean is happy for him. He and the rest of egos need more positive events in their lives. Jackie certainly surprises him when he randomly shows up at his door days later. Signe gives him a heads up about the visitor as he leaves a recording session. The teenager comes across as distracted while they talk. Something feels really off. Then again, they haven't been able to talk since his kidnapping. Months' worth of trauma were bound to change how Jackie acted in certain situations. When he eventually leaves, Sean feels like he's missing some sort of sign. The community goes insane after Dark Silence is uploaded. He cautiously makes himself watch the infamous ending. Once more, Anti has added content to a video. The whole time Chase stands in that hallway, Sean is begging his screen for his friend to start sprinting in the other direction, as far from Anti as he could manage. But, of course, you can't prevent an abduction through a screen, especially when it had happened hours beforehand. Chase seemed so distressed. The thought of his reaction to Anti won't leave Sean be. Nor will those two questions. Jameson swings by in an attempt to comfort him. For what it's worth, his heart is in the right place. Sean just doesn't feel he's in a position to appreciate the efforts properly. He supposes this is his opportunity to finally get a rescue attempt right. Yet, with the tour and having to revert back to multiple recordings a day, time slips away. No doubt he'll get accused of not caring. Thankfully, Chase returns in June. Mostly unscathed physically too which is good. He wishes the same could be said for mental repercussions. Chase relapsing hard with his alcoholism wasn't great to hear either. Suffice to say, Chase needed help. Some good news about the whereabouts of his ex and two young children would be fantastic too. The Akinator video is fun. He enjoys making that website's algorithm figure out the characters. Admittedly, he doesn't know whether picking Jameson for a round was a smart idea. Even worse are some of the questions he gets offered. There are two specifically he doesn't feel comfortable answering on camera. He plays it off as teasing eventual ego content to his audience. In reality, he's not sure it's his place to say. And it's hardly like he can put the recording on hold to contact Jameson about his personal life. The video goes up and the community naturally laps it up. Sean wonders if he should be concerned about the fact Jameson was yet to speak to him about it. In October, he asks Jameson to deliver a card on his behalf. Henrik would be amputating Jackie's legs in an attempt to reverse one of the most prominent aftereffects of his time with Anti. Therefore, a get well card was in order. It's not much but he hopes Jackie will appreciate the gesture nonetheless. Jameson simply shrugs as he hands him a note a couple weeks later. He ends up finding the message humourous. On it is written: Thanks for the card but you don't need to bother next time. He's just about had enough of Anti when Quit The Game To Win gets recorded. He's not sure at which point in the video he becomes lightheaded. There's a brief moment of zoning out then he's sitting at his desk, having sent the video off for editing a minute prior. Unlike the other times, there is no extra content even Robin was oblivious to. The footage of Sean staring into the camera had undoubtedly been there the whole time. They debate whether to upload it. The decision gets taken out of their hands when it is uploaded regardless. That goddamn bastard. He probably realises Sean can't take down a video like that with no explanation. And what explanation is there to give? The community has no idea the egos were real or that it was actually Anti speaking to them. Oh but sure, the compliments to his 'amazing acting' pour in without fail. Also, next phase? What the hell was Anti planning to do? He and the egos would have to remain proceeding with caution. On his 29th birthday, he is surprised to find numerous egos on his doorstep. A little dumbfounded, he invites them in for cake. It wasn't like he was doing much today other than typical work stuff and checking out the community's birthday art. Chase spots his notebook, the one containing his story plans. This topic of conversation leads to them encouraging him to rectify his mistakes by waking Jack up. He's all for it. Even after all these years, he's not sure how exactly his power worked. He gets it into his head that staying up indefinitely will cause Jack to remain conscious. Somehow, this becomes the actual criteria. As the day goes on, he thinks about how things must be like over at the egos' home. It must be wonderful to have Jack up and about. He can imagine him sharing jokes, laughing and smiling, just generally enjoying the company of friends. He's always been a bit of a night owl. He can manage to stay up the whole night, for Jack's sake. Jack deserves as much time as he can give him. He increases his caffeine intake. It didn't matter whether it was coffee or a fizzy drink. If it had caffeine and could help him stay up longer, he'd drink it. His plan seemingly backfires when he plays Shadow of the Colossus while exhausted. He wakes up with a crick in his neck, the sight of Wander stationary upon Agro's back and looming guilty disappointment. When he checks in, Henrik confirms Jack was indeed back in the medical bay, unresponsive as ever. The doctor tells him that, not for nothing, they'd all enjoyed the day. It had been after 2am when Jack had begun exhibiting signs of diminishing consciousness. Even if the others may not admit it, he was sure he wasn't the only one who appreciated what Sean had given them. Perhaps one of the stupidest things he ever voluntarily subjects himself to occurs that May. He leaves peculiar edits in the Observation series. Then he posts an unlisted video of him facing off against his clone with a bloodied throat and exclusively black attire. It works. For the first time in Sean's life, he stands in Anti's presence. As it turns out, Anti is grateful. If it hadn't been for Sean spending weeks playing around with a community fuelled concept, complete with a grande finale, the glitch would still be lurking in the shadows as a nobody. Sean had solidified him. Antisepticeye had long since stopped being a fun idea that lived purely in fan creations or Tumblr headcanon posts. Even better, he'd been armed with a knife and violent tendencies. Bit of a bad combination, wouldn't you say? In fact, he's been revelling in watching the whole Sean vs Egos fiasco. Because sure, he could blame a lot of things on Anti if he wanted. But the mistrust that began with Jack then seeped into the others via the original ego? Sean's doing. The one who used his powers of creation when, even to this day, he doesn't quite understand how on earth they worked? Sean. Best yet, letting his emotions cause him to put a loved one in a coma he had no clue how to reverse? Once again, courtesy of Sean McLoughlin. Sean brushes these comments off. He's been called out too many times to be that easily affected by it. Besides, he had some things on his own mind that needed saying. Where were Stacy and the kids? Oh, in a ditch. They served no use without Chase's conscience there to haunt. Actually, where had Anti himself been during all these years? Here, there, everywhere. Why stay in one spot when he thrived on being near impossible to pin down. Any question Sean has, Anti's answers are delivered nonchalantly. Right. That's how Anti wants to play it, huh? He creates another piece of footage. This time, he dresses as Chase and speaks on the phone. 'Chase' begs Stacy to take the kids, stay hidden and only contact him when she really needs to. Once Sean posts it (privately of course), the real Chase updates him on the recent developments in his life. He'd gotten a text from Stacy saying they were safe for now. He had only managed to compose himself before leaving the house but ah look, there go the waterworks again. Sean apologises as he makes it abundantly clear that Chase would not be able to see his family for a while. It was for their safety. Chase understood, right? Yes, yes of course. For good measure, he also talks to Henrik. His wife and children weren't in as imminent danger of becoming Anti's targets right now. However, there was no harm in staying vigilant. It was up to the doctor but Sean thought it would be for the best if they maintained a low profile for now. Sean discusses another video with Chase in October. The father is reluctant to have more of his story explored, especially if things are going to play out the way Sean had planned. That's fine, he assures. That was exactly why he wanted Chase to be part of the process. Besides, it may seem a little bleak right now but his fortunes would improve as soon as the ball started rolling. When it comes to filming the short video, Chase kills it. The community may be praising Sean but he makes sure Chase is aware of the love he had earned. He decides to allow Jameson another solo video for his birthday. They brainstorm together, coming up with the premise of a puppet show. Jameson is the one who comes up with the 'I can't be questioned, I'm rich!' joke. As soon as he does, he goes off on a tangent about how he used to know people like that. Hell, his own parents had been like that. Sean laughs along with him. The first sight of trouble is the random bit of string around his arm. Jameson naively removes it without becoming suspicious. Sean's been in this position before. If the video's up, it's already way too late for the targeted ego. He forces himself to watch to the end. Jameson's wrapping up the story when the strings reappear. His arms go limp before he begins swaying on the spot. It is clearly Anti who is controlling his movements now. Sean really wishes he didn't know the sign for 'help'. He bets Jameson believes he has the power to save him. If only he did. The worst part of it is having to witness Jameson clearly attempting to fight against it. If Sean thought Henrik's distress during Kill Jacksepticeye had been a challenge to watch, he had another thing coming. Goddamn it. Can he please go one year without losing more of those he cared about? He'd once been friends with Angus before the fading fiasco caused them to drift apart. Jack kept giving second chance after second chance until Sean had let his frustration screw that up. Chase had gradually begun to see him as potentially trustworthy, only for Anti to kidnap him and set them back to square one. Is it too much to ask for them to feel happy and safe as well as remaining so? His 30th birthday is quiet. There are no egos hassling him or attempts to initiate a bout of insomnia. It's a nice day chilling out with Evelein and BB. He would have enjoyed it even more if he knew he'd achieved his goal of waking Jack up by now. Or even getting Jameson back. The last person he expects to see coming round to his house is Marvin. He doesn't think the magician is entirely sure why he chose to do this either. He states that he gave his word when he said he'd never forgive Sean. With his fae heritage, that meant something and he couldn't go back on that. Marvin seemed offended when Sean shows surprise upon learning he had connection to fae. Well, how exactly was Sean supposed to know this detail if Marvin's been keeping him far away for 2.5 years, especially since they hadn't been best buddies pre-coma either? The magician scowls before returning to a calmer neutral demeanour. He carries on his point. Marvin may not be able to forgive Sean for what he's done, not that he really has a reason to given what was still happening to the egos. That said, he wasn't going to judge his friends as harshly anymore if they decided to give their creator a chance. That uh... shit, that was huge coming from Marvin. All he can reply with is a thank you. August rears it's terrible head. It's been three years now. 36 whole months, god knows how many weeks or individual days. He's had all this time to fix this yet is still working on it. And oh, sure, he can rationalise it. He can remind himself that during 2018, if he wasn't on tour then he was preparing for a leg or decompressing after one. Not to mention that had also been the year he'd finally started addressing his mental health. Now, the biggest thing preventing him from progressing the story to the point where Jack woke up was the virus. For half the year, he couldn't film anything that required a crew, let alone do so on location in America or wherever like he had with CHASE. Instead, he sits at the end of the bed as usual. Legs to his chest, he simply lets himself be here. Henrik is going to kill him for the way he is seated. He rambles at Jack, updating him on recent goings on. When he's said his bit, he becomes contemplative for a moment. "I'm still trying, I swear. You're going to wake up one day. I'm just- I'm doing my best to get everything sorted. I promise you can call my ass out eventually. I will get there. Anyway, I'm sure you have better things to be doing than listening to me mope about like I have been for the past three years. See you around, buddy."

[jebentnietalleen]

how abouuuuut... 33!

When Lucas applied for a summer job at the laboratory down town, he didn’t expect to be stuck doing all the shit jobs every day. Sure, he knows he isn’t qualified yet to actually work in the lab and do experiments or whatever, but he at least had hoped to learn some new stuff. Get to see how others work, maybe help out a little, be someone’s assistant. With assistant, he didn’t mean ‘get coffee every few hours, dust the windows and take out the trash’ and yet that’s what he’s doing most of his days. He almost regrets not joining Arthur and Bas, who worked together at the post office, sorting out mail and delivering the morning newspaper. It sounds boring as hell to Lucas, but then again, it wasn’t any worse than what he was doing right now, and at least they had each other. Lucas, on the other hand, was alone most of the time.

Most mornings, he actually got to open up the place. He liked getting there early, enjoying the coffee that he got during his first haul of many more to come during the day. He actually didn’t mind getting coffee, he liked taking breaks every now and then, stretching his legs and taking a short walk to the local café. The coffee was pretty decent, the prices were okay, but if he was really honest with himself, it was the barista that made it worth his time

It’s actually unfair how gorgeous the man behind the counter is, he looks like he’s a straight up model who can’t find a job or who decided to kill some time in between photoshoots by serving coffee. Not that Lucas is about to complain. Walking into the café and seeing Eliott dart around, furrowing his brow in concentration when he has to make something complicated, or smile blindingly at customers, were the highlights of his day. Eliott was such a fitting name, too, although he couldn’t quite explain why.

It’s not like he actually talked with the guy, not really, other than a few awkward sentences here and there. He was still kind of working up the courage to start a conversation that wasn’t about cream and sugar. The only reason he knew his name is because of his nametag.

Yesterday he was playing videogames with Yann, drinking a few beers while they waited for the rest of the gang to show up. Yann was complaining about how he didn’t know what to buy for Chloé’s birthday. In the end, Lucas told him to just think back on any hints she might have given him the past couple of weeks, he was sure he could think of something sweet to do with her. Yann had thanked him and asked him about his day.

‘Ugh, boring as usual. You know what I had to do today? My boss asked to go up to the roof and actually, I kid you not, sweep the chimney. What kind of karma do I have, what did I do to deserve this madness? Wait, don’t answer that’ Yann chuckled and nudged against him, never looking away from the TV.

‘It sucks man, but it’s just for the summer. Hopefully you’ll get something good to do soon. Sooo…’Yann looked at him expectantly, wiggling his eyebrows with a shit eating grin on his face. Lucas wasn’t falling for it. ‘Sooo what?’ ‘So, did you see that gorgeous boyfriend to be today?’

Lucas snorted and shoved Yann away. ‘His name is Eliott and he is certainly not my almost boyfriend. And yes, I did. He put some free biscotti in the bag today. He said something sweet to tie you over until your next break and actually winked at me. As luck would have it though, I didn’t get to have another break after that.’‘Dude, you have to talk to this Eliott soon, because you are this close to swooning whenever you mention the guy and it’s so clear that he likes you. Listen, if you don’t have his phone number by the end of the week, I’ll come in there myself and ask it for you. I’m not kidding’

The worst part is, Lucas knows he means it. In other words, he’s screwed.

That how he finds himself psyching himself up at 8:05 in the morning, to go over to Eliott and actually say something to him.

The bell chimed as he walked over the threshold, his eyes immediately find Eliott, who was sitting crossed legged on the ground, searching for something in the cupboards behind the counter. The sound of Lucas walking in alerted him of the fact that there was a customer, and when he looked up and saw Lucas standing in front of the counter, his face seemed to actually light up while he scrambled up from the floor. God, this café must have been overflowing with tips ever since Eliott started to work here. Who could resist his charm?

‘Hi! Glad to see you’re back. I was starting to get worried yesterday; I hope the biscotti wasn’t poisonous?’

The grin that spread out on Eliott’s face seemed to be contagious, and soon enough he found himself looking into his eyes with a full-blown smile.‘No, not at all. It was so good that I got a sugar crash and passed out at work. Just kidding, my boss left earlier and there was no need to go get people more coffee.’

Eliott looks like he is hesitating to say something, but then:

‘That’s too bad, I was looking forward to your 15:00 run.’

Lucas’ eyebrows disappear into his hairline

‘My 15:00 run? Are you keeping tabs on what time I come in here?’

‘Well yes’ Eliott shrugs, ‘in case you haven’t noticed, it’s not exactly busy around here. Besides, I like it when you come in’

It feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, hearing Eliott talk like that.

‘It’s not exactly a chore for me to come here either. Or, well, only in the literal sense.’

They joke around some more, and when Lucas finally places his usual order, Eliott writes his phone number on Lucas’ cup. He can’t believe he is actually going to have to tell Yann he was right all along. He’ll be so smug about it.

Lucas feels like he is walking on air when he strolls back to the lab. He is so out of it that he almost forgets the fact that he has to work all day today. When he gets there, somebody already opened up. Looks like he was at the café longer than he thought he was. Time flies when you’re flirting with a hot guy. He puts the coffee cups in the lunchroom area and makes sure to insert Eliott’s number in his phone. Lucas has never been that great with words and he’s already worried about what to text him, but he’s got time to think about it.

‘Lucas! I have a special assignment for you today!’ as his boss yelled for him to get over to his desk, he tried not to get his hopes up but it was hard when all he did all week was clean up and get coffee. Maybe he actually got to do something useful today.

‘Ah, thank you for coming in, Lucas. So, it seems that there is someone who thinks it is funny to violate our property. We’ve had this problem before but it stopped for a bit, and unfortunately I just saw that it started up again.’

Lucas looks at his boss quizzically. When it seemed like there wasn’t going to be any further explanations, he asked:

‘What do you mean, violation? What happened?’

His boss let out a big sigh and looked up from his paperwork.

‘Someone has tagged the right side of the building. You know. Graffiti. I think it’s probably one of those do good-ers who thinks ‘playing with chemicals’ is bad for the environment. In any case, I need it to be gone by the end of the day. I’m not sure what will work, though, it looks pretty hard to remove. You can get some paint and paint over it. It looks like it’s going to be something to keep you busy for a while, because once you repaint one wall you have to repaint them all eventually. Otherwise, it looks like crap. Right. So. Any questions?’

Lucas feels his blood begin to boil and shakes his head, uttering a quick ‘No, sir’ and stalking out of the office before he says something he will regret. He can’t believe it; some idiot wrote something on their wall and now he has to repaint the whole goddamn building? That’s rich.

Grabbing his jacket and coffee, he walks outside to look at the damage. Worst of all is, it’s not just some random text he has to paint over, but a whole drawing. It looks like someone painted a raccoon looking very sad and sick in a corner, whilst looking at some test tubes that are dripping liquids in the forest. Well, that’s a fucking stretch. For one thing, they are nowhere near a forest. For another, a raccoon?! Lucas doesn’t think he ever saw a raccoon in real life, let alone in Paris.

He gets all the supplies he needs to start painting, borrowing a ladder from a neighboring business. Climbing up the stairs with a bucket of white paint in one hand and a big foam roller in the other, he thinks about the fact that he probably won’t be able to go on coffee runs anymore until he’s done painting. He pauses at the top of the stairs and pulls out his phone to text Eliott:

Lucas: I hope you don’t think I am ghosting you, irl or on the phone. My boss got me to do a ‘special assignment’ so no coffee breaks for me ☹ glad I have your number, though 

He hits send before he can think about it for too long and change his mind, puts his phone away and gets to work.

It turns out that painting is a lot more physically exhausting than he thought it would be. He worked around the edges until everything was painted over except for the raccoon. For some reason, he was a bit sad to paint over it. Even though it was annoying as hell, it was a cute raccoon. And the person who drew it obviously had some talent. He decided to take a quick picture of it with his phone, so that it wouldn’t be completely destroyed.

He paints the whole wall white, but it’s not thick enough to cover it up completely. If you look closely, you can still see the dark outlines of the raccoon, looks like he’s just going to have to paint over it again when the first layer has dried up.

After cleaning himself up and telling his boss he’ll continue tomorrow, he takes out his phone and starts walking to the bus stop. Eliott texted him back. Even though he has no clue what he said, Lucas is already smiling when he opens up the text:

Eliott: Oh damn. Hopefully it’s a nice assignment? Thanks for letting me know, I was starting to be afraid that my flirting techniques might not have been obvious enough. Or that you might not be interested.

Lucas texts back right away, coolness be damned:

Lucas: I can assure you, there is nothing wrong with your skills. Or with you. The job, however, sucked. Some asshole painted a whole goddamn mural on our building and I had to paint over it. But at least I had something to do today, I guess. How was your day?

As hard as it was, he tried to ignore the voice in his head that said really? how was your day??? lame and pressed send.

Nervousness is a feeling that Lucas was all too familiar with, but he never experienced it at this level, just over waiting for a text. It’s stupid and he knows it, but he can’t help himself. The only thing left to do is find some form of distraction.

He calls Yann to tell him the good news:

‘Okay, so, you know I hate to say this, but. You were right’

‘I was? About what?’

‘About Eliott. I think he does really like me. We flirted a bit today and he gave me his phone number, and we’ve texted a few times already. But he hasn’t responded to my latest text yet’

‘When did you send it?’

‘I don’t know, couple of hours ago? I know he’s probably just busy, but yeah.’

‘Don’t worry about it Lulu, want to come over and have some drinks? We can watch a movie or something.

‘That would be nice’

Once he gets to Yann’s place, he is determined not to check his phone again until he is home. It works, for the most part, because he is genuinely distracted and talks to Yann about the whole ordeal at work today while Yann grabs them some beers and snacks. They end up watching Madagascar, which is way funnier than Lucas remembers it to be.

When he gets home, Lucas takes his time to get into something comfortable, brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed. Only when he is under the covers does he open up his phone. Fortunately, there is a response waiting for him:

Eliott: I am glad to hear my skills don’t suck, but sorry to hear you had a rough day at work. What was the painting of?

Okay, that was not a question he was expecting.

Lucas: Tbh, it was more interesting than most of my work days, so I guess I shouldn’t complain. It was a picture of a raccoon looking sad, watching two test tubes with chemicals in them. I work in a lab.

Eliott: I never would have guessed that you’d be working at a lab. What do you do?

Lucas: It’s only for the summer, to earn some money. I’m a Biology major and I thought it would be could to work there to get some experience. It’s all a big joke though because other than getting the occasional coffee for everybody, and cleaning up, I haven’t done a whole lot.

Eliott: Ah, I see. Believe it or not, working in a café is also not something I want to be doing for the rest of my life, so I get you.

Lucas: So what do you do, besides writing down your phone number for cute costumers?

Eliott: Did you just call yourself cute?

Lucas: Don’t change the subject! And yes.

Eliott: Fair enough, you’re not wrong. Let’s play a game. You can guess what I do. Take as many guesses as you need, but you can only guess once a day. And if you are right, I will tell you. Up for it?

Lucas scoffs at his phone. What kind of game is he playing at. And more importantly, why is Lucas so intrigued? Damn it.

Lucas: Fine, be that way. Okay. My guess of the day is… you’re a teacher.

Eliott: Nope. Better luck tomorrow 😉

Lucas: I already don’t like this game.

Eliott: I don’t know how, but I can just feel you pout all the way from here. I’ll give you another free biscotti tomorrow to make it up to you.

Lucas: I know I should be offended by the pouting remark, but I’ll take the biscotti.

Eliott: Don’t be offended, pouting probably looks very cute on you and we’ve established that you are in fact cute. See you tomorrow, Lucas

Lucas: See you then, Eliott

Lucas falls asleep with his phone clutched to his chest and a smile on his face.

---

The first thing Lucas does in the morning is check his phone. No new notifications. But that’s okay, because Eliott is expecting him to drop by this morning for his morning coffee round. His morning routine seems to be going a lot quicker than usual, but he refuses to think about it for too long. It’s crazy that his mood is influenced this much already by a guy who he isn’t even officially dating yet.

When he gets to the café, he is surprised to find that Eliott has his order ready. Instead of his phone number, this time he has made a little doodle on the cup. It’s nothing fancy, just some stars and moon. Their fingers touch for a second too long when Lucas takes the cup from him and it lights up a fire inside his hand, his arm, his entire being. They smile way too sweetly at each other, and just before Lucas wants to turn around to go, Eliott tells him to wait a second, and grabs a string of his hair without any explanation. He releases it just as soon as he grabbed it, and gives one more award-winning smile before he lets Lucas go to work.

If it wasn’t clear before, it is now: Lucas is in big trouble. He is falling and he is falling fast.

This morning seems more hectic than other mornings. When Lucas walks in the door, his boss is yelling at someone on the phone, and when he hangs up, he gestures for Lucas to come into his office once again.

‘Lucas, you won’t believe this, but the fiend who painted on our wall a few days ago came back again last night and painted over your paint job. I know you bought enough paint to do at least two layers, but I am afraid you’re going to have to start over again. That jokester will stop eventually, hopefully, as long as we keep on defending ourselves.’

This is unbelievable, they came back and did another painting?! He stormed out of the office without a second thought, wanting to know what the hell was painted on it now.

This time, there was another raccoon, looking kind of guiltily at a… hedgehog with a lab coat on? What the hell? The hedgehog was frowning, holding a paintbrush. He was pictured thinking to himself: ‘it’s not fair’ and the raccoon was pictured thinking: ‘it really isn’t fair….’ The two test tubes from the first drawing were also back again, lying next to the raccoon.

Lucas took a picture again, this time it was more to gather evidence than to savor the art. The paintjob was a lot sloppier than yesterday, and after about an hour he stopped and texted Eliott:

Lucas: Guess who is painting over the wall again?

He was trying to decide whether or not to send a selfie, but decided to just go for it. He cocked on of his eyebrows in the picture, scratching his chin so that Eliott could see the paint splatters on his fingers.

The reaction was almost immediately, Eliott must be having his break right now:

Eliott: I’m guessing it’s not your boss, huh? 😉

Lucas: no such luck, no… looks like the person in question wants to paint a whole zoo on this wall.

Eliott: what did they paint this time?

Lucas: [sends picture]

Eliott: that’s not a zoo, I think that hedgehog is supposed to be you

Lucas: Me?? Why?? I am not a hedgehog

Eliott: well… you have messy, spikey hair just like a hedgehog. And he’s wearing a lab coat. Maybe that someone saw you repainting the wall yesterday? 

That’s something that didn’t even occur to Lucas before, maybe that person did see him paint. Almost on cue, he started to look around him, trying to see if he could spot someone staring at him.

Lucas: If that’s the case, that’s super creepy. I keep looking around to see if someone’s stalking me. Also, I feel like the raccoon is silently judging the hedgehog and I don’t like it

Eliott: Ah sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. You know what I think? I think the raccoon maybe feels a bit sorry for the hedgehog but not enough to stay away.

Lucas: Okay, time for my guess of the day: are you some kind of interpreter?

Eliott: Sorry, not an interpreter either… what do you think the graffiti ‘artist’ is trying to tell you guys with his actions?

Lucas: I think it’s probably meant as criticism for how the chemicals we are brewing and mixing together can be bad for the environment and that we don’t keep that in mind enough, but tbh I don’t think this is the way to do it. Drawing this on our building isn’t going to change anything.

Eliott: You are probably right about that 

They text back and forth for a bit longer before Eliott has to go because there are costumers he needs to serve, and technically his break ended 10 minutes ago. The rest of the day is a lot more boring without texting with Eliott.

---

 The next morning, Lucas has second thoughts about going to the café. As much as Lucas is loving the texting and coffee hauls, he kind of hopes that whatever is going on between them will grow into something more. Thus far, neither of them has had the courage to take the next step, and Lucas isn’t sure if he is just being stubborn or if he is simply too nervous to go for it, and it is making him doubt his every move. It turns out he was worrying for nothing, because Eliott texted him to say that Wednesday was his day off, and that he wouldn’t be in the café today. Despite the fact that he was a bit concerned about how to act around Eliott now, he was still disappointed that he wouldn’t see him today.

Lucas: No free biscotti today, huh ☹ enjoy your day off, see you tomorrow?

Eliott: Is that all I am to you, a walking cookie dispenser? 😉 see you tomorrow, for sure, if I don’t see you before then

Lucas: How very cryptic of you. I feel like I fell asleep in the middle of our conversation. I missed something, didn’t I?

Eliott: You’ll figure it out 

Lucas looked at his phone as if it would give him all the answers he needs and muttered under his breath: ‘Well, this is an intriguing start of the day…’   

Getting his coffee served by anybody else than Eliott is so much less fun, but it turns out that it’s also a lot quicker, and Lucas finds himself alone in the lab once more. Out of curiosity, he goes outside to see if the paint has dried and if he can make an estimation of how much layers would be enough to cover it all.

When he rounds the building and looks up at the wall, he can’t fucking believe his eyes. Another painting. It takes him a couple of seconds to fully take it in, but when he does, he holds his breath:

Right there, on the wall, are the raccoon and the hedgehog. This time, the raccoon is asking the hedgehog a question: ‘Sorry for making you paint this wall again. Last time, I promise.  Do you want to go out with me tonight? If yes, text Eliott.’ Lucas has to walk closer to the wall because there is something beneath that, but it’s very small: ‘if not, also text Eliott but make it quick and painless please’

He can’t believe it, he grabs his phone, takes a shaky picture and starts doing what the raccoon told him to do, he texts Eliott:

Lucas: Are you for real? YOU are the graffiti artist?

Eliott: I am. Sorry for keeping it from you, I wasn’t going to tell you at all but I couldn’t resist.

Lucas: Are you sure you want to date someone who works for such monsters?

Eliott: Of course, what better way to infiltrate the system than to date somebody on the inside. So I take that is a yes to the date, then 

Lucas: Hell yes.

Suddenly, Lucas doesn’t feel like painting over the wall anymore. He’s not going to say anything about it himself until his boss notices. He likes looking at Eliott’s work, and seeing the hedgehog and raccoon looking at each other all lovey dovey makes his heart warm. He hopes that he and Eliott get to look at each other like that in person as well.

[tommynikkivincemick]

three way call — part 3

Summary: Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx find themselves in the frustrating predicament of being infatuated with the same woman. This calls for a competition.

Author’s note: Y/N is a whole mess in this part, so sorry in advance. She gets a little too cozy with both of the boys. Lotta angst in this chapter, lotta fluff, lotta alcohol.

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, no smut but sensual moments, messy drama.

Y/N leaned her head back and closed her eyes momentarily as the Twins bickered about something in the kitchen— they always acted like an old married couple, but something had been going on between them as of late that she just couldn’t figure out. It was obviously important, seeing as they nearly killed each other over it, and it seemed to be top secret because for the first time in a long time, they lied to her. She knew damn well that they weren’t being extra sweet to her out of the goodness of their hearts (though she did like it and would prefer if the affection didn’t stop) and she knew that they didn’t get in that big of a fight just because Tommy was talking shit; Tommy was always talking shit and if that’s all it took to get the living hell beat out of him, he would have been dead by now. But she knew they wouldn’t tell her— after all, you couldn’t make the Twins do anything they didn’t want to do.

“Man, what the hell has been going on around here? Is there something in the water? You guys have been acting so weird lately,” Y/N thought out loud.

“What ever do you mean?” Mick asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Tommy and Nikki constantly fighting, you and Vince being extra quiet around me; and that’s a feat because Vince never shuts up. You guys are just being... weird,” She shrugged.

“Oh, kid, if only you knew,” The guitarist chuckled, shaking his head.

“If she knew, she’d kill them for having this big plan and kill us for keeping their secret!” Vince laughed.

Y/N was floored. Since when did the guys keep secrets from her? Was she spinning off into an alternate dimension?

“What plan? What secret? Y’all are killing me!” She cried, pleading for answers.

“Can’t tell you; bros before hoes. If we told you, I’m more scared of what Sixx and Tom would do to us than what you’d do to us,” Vince said, hiding this big secret behind a wide grin.

“But she might be flattered— we haven’t considered that,” Mick commented.

She couldn’t stand this anymore. She couldn’t take the rhythm section fighting like cats and dogs and she couldn’t take the rest of the band talking in circles. Around her, anyway, Tommy acted the most normal, so she figured she’d just spend some time with him until the dust settled in the apartment.

“Tommy!” She yelled into the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“Mama needs a drink. Let’s go,” she invited, putting on her shoes and grabbing her purse.

Tommy followed, grabbing his wallet and closing the door behind them with a wink to the other men. He followed her to her car and got in the passenger seat, moving it back and reclining it to accommodate his long legs. He loved this car— it was a perfect 1966 Ford Mustang, black with white leather seats. He loved even more the woman who drove it, especially right now in the summer sun, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her chest from the heat and the lack of air conditioning in the apartment and the hot air currently blowing from the vents in the car. He loved her tight daisy duke shorts and her red tube top and matching mule heels; he loved her big feathered hair that made it look like she was still stuck in the 70s and her glossy red lips and big curves of winged eyeliner. She was the most beautiful girl in the world.

“So what’s the problem, babe? You look stressed,” Tommy asked as she reversed out of her parking spot.

“You guys are just... ugh. I’m tired of the fighting and being sneaky. Mick and Vin keep talking in circles around me and Nikki’s being really sweet— which is nice, it’s just a little weird for him. You’re the only one acting normal with me but around Nikki you two have been fighting constantly for the past couple of days. What the fuck is going on with you guys?” Y/N ranted.

“It’s complicated. Guy stuff. Nothing we would wanna burden you with,” Tommy answered shortly.

It broke the drummer’s heart to have to keep secrets from her; he trusted her with his life and liked to think she thought the same. But in his mind, this competition was necessary to prove that she loved him more than Nikki. He was tired of seeing the bassist’s hungry eyes whenever he looked at her in one of her form fitting outfits like she had on today; and of seeing him slip his hand in her back pocket whenever she leaned against him at a party; and of him having her sit on his lap. She did those things with Tommy, too, but he wished it was only him. After a while of being lost in thought, she pulled the car up to the Rainbow, grabbed her bag, and got out of the car. He followed suit and held open the door of the building for her and took a seat next to her at the bar. She ordered a drink comprised mostly of vodka and he ordered just a beer for himself. It took a few hours and many drinks later for Y/N to be leaning against Tommy, spilling her soul on the bar.

“I just— I love you ‘n Nikki so much, y’know? Y’all are my favorite people, you’re both so han’some and s’ sweet ‘n funny... I’d fuckin’ wife both y’all up, put a ring on it,” She slurred, “Where’s a phone? I wanna call Nikki ‘n tell him to come to the bar. Need both of my bitches here.”

Tommy laughed and helped peel her off of the seat of the booth they had moved to and carry her to the phone booth.

“Tommy... Tommy, dial Nikki’s number, I can’t read right now.”

Tommy smirked and dialed the number, handing her the phone.

“Mötley residence, Vince speaking,” The singer greeted.

“Gimme Nikki!” She yelled into the receiver.

“Fuck, okay. How many drinks have you had?” She could bear the smirk in Vince’s voice.

“Vince. Nikki. Now,” She demanded.

“Alright, alright,” Vince laughed and yelled into the apartment, “NIKKI! PHONE!”

“WHO IS IT?” Nikki yelled back, his voice muted in the background.

“Y/N! SHE SOUNDS HAMMERED, SHE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!”

“FINE!” In a few moments, Nikki was handed the phone, “Mötley residence, Nikki speaking.”

“Nikki, my love!” Y/N slurred excitedly.

Tommy pretended it didn’t feel like a knife to the chest to hear her call him her love.

“Yes, beautiful, what’cha need?” Nikki chuckled, smiling at the term of endearment.

“I need youuuuu—” She drawled, “— to get your ass over to the Rainbow! I want both my bitches!”

“Who’s the other bitch?”

“Tommy, obviously. The loves of my life!” She grinned, leaning against the younger Twin with most of her weight, “Tom-Tom, talk to Sixx, tell him to come over.”

Tommy took the phone and grunted as he shifted both his and her weight.

“Hey, Sixx,” He greeted.

“How’s the kid doing? Aren’t you taking care of her?” Nikki smirked.

“She’s trashed, but she tries to fight me every time I try to tell her no more. Besides that, she’s in a real loved up mood, wants both of us here. I think we’re gonna get a VIP room, we’re tired of being around the general public, so just grab a bottle and meet us back there when you get here,” Tommy explained to the best of his ability, himself slurring just a little bit, “You got some catching up to do, dude.”

Nikki rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be there in a minute, don’t get in too much trouble without me,” The bassist said, “Later T-Bone.”

“Later, Sixx.”

“BYE, NIKKI! I’LL SEE YOU IN A MINUTE!” Y/N yelled into the phone before Tommy hung it up.

“Alright, hot mess, come on, steady as she goes,” Tommy instructed, trying to guide her to a VIP room.

“Carry me. Don’t wanna walk no more,” She groaned.

“Fine, but you ain’t gonna like it,” Tommy shrugged and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

She groaned like she was sea sick, hooking her fingers through his belt loops for stability. He patted her ass, which was currently bent over his shoulder.

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty,” He sighed before letting her down onto the sofa in the VIP room, “I’m gonna go get us a couple of bottles, what do you want besides water?”

“Mmm... Rum. And I don’t need water, I’m not a little bitch,” She slurred, laying down on the sofa.

“I’m not letting you drink anymore until you get down a couple glasses of water. I’ll be back, you sit tight,” He said, turning to make a trip to the bar.

“Wait! Come here,” She drawled, drawing him near with a ‘come hither’ motion of her finger.

He did and knelt beside her. She took his face in her hands and pulled him closer, kissing him slowly and deeply. His eyes went wide before closing— he was officially ahead of Nikki in the game, and god she was a good kisser, even when she was wasted. She tasted like hard liquor, which he didn’t mind, and the strawberry lip gloss she layered on top of her lipstick. Heavenly.

“Now hurry back, ‘kay?” She grinned dumbly up at him.

He gulped and nodded, hurrying out of the room; the faster he got their drinks, the faster he could return to her. Y/N heard him exchange greetings with another man outside of the room before the door opened again to reveal Tommy’s partner in crime, Nikki.

“Nikki!” She squealed happily, “Come here, I missed you!”

He smiled and joined her on the sofa. It took her a minute, but eventually she pulled herself into his lap and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Mmm, I love you Nikki, so much,” She hummed, pressing soft kisses to his exposed neck, “You and Tommy, my favorite boys, y’all would definitely be my sister wives if it was legal in the state of California.”

“Well, you and Tommy both ought to know how I feel about sharing,” He said lowly, sliding a hand into her back pocket like he always did.

“But I love you both so much!” She pouted, “You’re both so... so good to me, y’know?”

“We both love you, too, sweetheart. But I’m sad to say you can’t have both,” He sighed.

“Not even on my birthday?“ She asked, her soft kisses moving closer to his mouth.

“Maybe on your birthday,” He chuckled, tilting his head to look her in the eyes, “But you want more than that, don’t you?”

She nodded and glanced between his eyes and lips as her breathing grew shallow. He rested a hand on the back of her neck, somewhat as a caring action and somewhat as a show of dominance. He observed her leaning into his touch and her eyes fluttering closed and her lips parting. Fuck it, thought Nikki, and took the plunge, kissing her deeply, with a little more force than Tommy had. She sighed against his lips before he pulled away.

“I can give you that. That something more,” He murmured.

“But Tommy can too,” She whispered, “You’re so different but so... the same. You both have so much to offer, it’s why I love both of you so much.”

Nikki could swear you could hear his heart crack a little more when she said the other Terror Twin’s name, but it was interesting to know that she had the same conflict that they did. He sighed and moved her off of his lap, onto the couch just beside him so she could lean against him.

“You’re drunk, pretty girl. I could never force you to make that decision when you’re like this. But just... keep in mind that you’ve never been truly loved by either of us. As a lover I mean— you haven’t experienced how I love, and you haven’t experienced how Tommy loves. You can’t make an informed decision, you know what I mean?” The older Twin explained.

She nodded and her gaze shifted to the door as it opened. Tommy returned with three bottles and a waitress carrying a pitcher of water behind him, as well as some glasses.

“Thanks so much,” He smiled at the waitress as everything was placed on a table and the girl left.

“Hey, Nik, hows she holding up?” Tommy asked, placing himself on the other side of the girl.

“She’s good,” The bassist said and motioned the drummer closer for a more private conversation, “She kissed me,” He whispered to the other man.

“Yeah, me too. She’s drunk, we can’t hold that against her,” Tommy hissed.

“I feel bad making her choose, man,” Nikki groaned, voice dripping with angst.

“Me too, but she’s gotta,” The younger man shrugged.

“Are you two talking about me?” Y/N piped up.

“No, baby,” Tommy shook his head, pouring a glass of water, “Drink. We gotta sober you up.”

Taglist: @jayprettymuchomw @kayladurin @crazysaladchopshop @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @loveofmyloif @saints-of-the-universe @tommyfuckinlee @oh-well1

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @kevaaronday!

Read on AO3

*****

Heard you were tough (but you don't look it)

1 - That Asshole 0 - Derek 1

Usually Derek got a different response after he’d saved someone’s life.

Depending on if the person was in the know or not, he either got some very surprised screaming about monsters, or a sincere thank you and the occasional offer to be thanked in some other way. Which he always declined, because that would be taking advantage.

This guy, this… asshole. He was different.

“I had that,” he was immediately yelling at Derek.

Different, and clearly delusional.

“You were seconds away from death,” Derek wondered if The Asshole was on something. “The Omega’s fangs were inches from tearing your throat out.”

Derek had jumped in immediately, without a thought for his own safety. As an Alpha, he’d heal pretty damn quickly from anything a crazed Omega could do to him. And the guy almost getting his throat torn out was human - at least at first glance.

“As if,” The Asshole was actually laughing at him.

“I get that you probably have a weapon or two in hand,” Derek did not have the patience to be dealing with a hunter who thought himself invincible. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be killed.”

Though, he couldn’t smell any wolfsbane on this guy. He couldn’t smell much of anything, which was probably a bad sign. If hunters had somehow learned how to block their chemosignals, that would take away a large part of the advantage the wolves had over them.

They needed that advantage.

His pack was probably going to call him paranoid, since they had very little problems with hunters anymore, now that Chris Argent had turned out to be a decent person. But it wasn’t paranoia if it kept all of them alive.

“I don’t need weapons,” That Asshole rolled his eyes at Derek.

That was a new one. He hadn’t ever heard a hunter say that before. They were always so dependant on their guns and their wolfsbane - or even bows. This guy seemingly carried none of those things. Though he was wearing so many layers it was hard to tell.

“Do you have claws hidden underneath that plaid?” Derek had to ask.

Because that was the only way that The Asshole would have made it out alive. There was no way a human got that close to a rabid Omega without any weapons on him and still lived to tell the tale. Not without some kind of interference. Or someone saving their ungrateful ass.

“Nothing up my sleeves,” the guy pushed up said sleeves.

Nothing to see there. There was nothing special about this guy, until Derek turned to look at the Omega (the corpse) lying on the ground, and then looked up to find that The Asshole was nowhere to be found.

Well, fuck. Clearly this was no random human. The smell of petrichor told him that much - funny how that he could smell, when there was nothing about the magic-user himself that Derek could get a scent on. So he was powerful, and could have probably handled himself against that Omega - but was it worth the risk?

And still, a ‘thank you’ wouldn’t have been out of place here. Derek was just saving a life, it was That Asshole who had to make it into a big fight. Just because Derek hadn’t wanted him to die at the hands of a feral Omega.

That was about as kind as he got.

2 - The best Spark ever 1 - Grumpy Wolf 1

So clearly the Beacon Hills Alpha was a self-righteous ass, but it wasn’t like Stiles could just let him die. That would be… less than ideal for his standing in the local community. Also, he wasn’t actually that much of an asshole. Not usually, not to anyone who didn’t deserve it.

He was just in doubt about how much the Alpha deserved it.

Still, there was a difference between actively being an asshole to someone and letting them die because of a troupe of egomaniac hunters. Beacon Hills needed an Alpha, and Stiles was going to get one over on the asshole Alpha - so clearly two reasons to do the right thing. That and Stiles’ hatred of hunters. That made three.

Ugh, guess he had to show off now. He hated doing that (no he didn’t).

“Hello there fellas,” Stiles did enjoy playing the harmless human card when it gave him an advantage. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but it feels like the start of a bullying PSA.”

That stopped these rednecks in their tracks - and seriously, why were hunters usually rednecks? Was it the racism or the love of guns? Or both? Both.

“You’d best get on your merry way, boy,” the one with the baseball cap started threatening him.

And that meant he really didn’t know what he was up against, which was awesome for Stiles but not so much for these guys. And not so much for the Alpha’s ego, clearly, because he was halfway to growling at Stiles before he even spoke up. Right, because it was perfectly fine for Stiles to be the damsel but this guy is too manly to be put in that position?

Fucking toxic masculinity!

“I’m going to need your pet Alpha for that,” Stiles grinned. “I kinda called dibs.”

That surprised them enough that Stiles could get off the first spell with a quick flick of the wrist - a modification of the mountain ash circle that allowed nothing or no one to enter or exit the circle without Stiles’ permission. And since the asshole Alpha was very much outside that circle…

“You’re welcome,” Stiles cocked his head, waiting for some appreciation from said Alpha.

He got none.

The Alpha was basically growling at him. “You called dibs?”

Maybe that wasn’t the best thing he could have said about an apparently extremely paranoid Alpha. But he’d already said it, and well, he stood by it. Because underneath that anger, and the heavy brow, and the asshole behavior… Well, underneath all of that the Alpha was kind of hot and Stiles would have hate-sexed him in a heartbeat. If, you know, he wasn’t an ungrateful ass. Or if he seemed like the kind of guy who was into hate-sex.  

“I’m sorry, are these rednecks more your type?” Stiles had no trouble keeping the circle intact. “I am not sure you’re kink-compatible.”

The joking just riled the Alpha up even more, which was a whole different level of entertaining. And watching the Alpha’s eyebrows twitch when Stiles easily tightened the circle the hunters were still trapped in, well that was just the icing on the cake, really. The guy was really pissed off that Stiles was powerful enough to save himself and others - such a savior complex.

“Well, I’d best be off,” Stiles wasn’t going to let the Asshole Alpha get another word in. “I have some criminals to hand-deliver to the Sheriff. You’re welcome.”

And with that, he left an Alpha werewolf in the dust. Like a BAMF.

3 - Dangerous magic user 1 - Derek 2

There was no way that Derek was going to let a dangerous magic user run through Beacon Hills unchecked. This was his territory, and it was his job to keep people safe, and therefore it was his job to know when dangerous people were around who risked tipping the balance.

And this guy - there was no way that he wasn’t dangerous. Someone that powerful, who could trap groups of hunters with a flick of his wrist and casually drag a protective circle after him… Maybe Derek had trust issues - and he knew he did - but he couldn’t trust the intentions of anyone that powerful. Especially when this person hadn’t even introduced himself to the pack, which was supposed to be tradition.

It almost made him miss Deaton. At least he remembered how things were supposed to work, enigmatic as he might have been before randomly bailing two months ago. He never even explained why he left or where he’d gone. And he’d left no forwarding address.

The wendigos were a bit more of an urgent issue, though.

Derek’d had to look through his mother’s old journals, the one she always locked up in the vault because she didn’t want the kids to get their hands on them. She’d spoken of the creatures, mentioned how dangerous they were and how imperative it was that they be kept far away from humans - especially those who were born with magic in their blood.

Did he mention that wendigos had an immunity to most spells?

Clearly the pain in the ass magic user hadn’t done the research, because he was still out there, in the Preserve in the middle of the night, flinging spells at an advancing wendigo. Derek knew his pack was dealing with the rest of the family, but they’d left the most dangerous one to him - as they should. Derek healed faster than they did.

“Get out of the way,” he threw himself into battle without another thought. “They’re mostly immune to magic. You need to get to safety.”

The magic user didn’t listen, not right away. But Derek couldn’t spend too much energy keeping track on him, not when he had a cannibalistic creature to get rid of. Looking back once already earned him a slash across the ribs, and he was lucky it wasn’t worse.

“What the hell is that thing?”

So clearly the magic user wasn’t leaving.

“Wendigo,” Derek shouted at him. “Now leave. Please. I’ve got this.”

The please just… came out. It was completely unlike their previous interactions, but Derek had said it and now he had to deal with it. Or he could just pretend he’d never said it and deal with a dangerous monster instead. That sounded like the better option.

Sometimes he wished there was another way to deal with a wendigo. But there wasn’t. His mother had tried, several times even, and if Talia Hale couldn’t do it… It had to be impossible.

He took a deep breath, trying to center himself, trying to anchor himself to his pack as he let the wolf into the driver’s seat. Against a creature like this, it is best to shift completely. Like his mother had.

It hurt to have his bones completely rearrange themselves, but he was used to pain. It helped him heal the scratches from the wendigo a bit quicker too.

“Holy shit, did you just?” Mage was still there.

Derek-wolf growled at him. Not safe for Mage with nice scent .

Not until after he shifted back, his body too tired to maintain the shift after he’d managed to defeat the angry wendigo singlehanded, did he realize that the magic user had never left. That he’d stuck around to watch Derek save his stupid life, for some reason.

Though he disappeared as soon as Derek’s pack came to find him.

He didn’t say thank you. Not surprising.

4 - The Amazing Mischief 2 - Sexy Wolf 2

So apparently the Alpha could actually turn into a wolf. Stiles was reluctantly impressed. Reluctantly, because the guy was still an asshole who thought Stiles couldn’t handle himself against one single wendigo - and yeah, okay, maybe he was right about the whole immunity to magic thing, but still.

But the full shift? Impressive. Saying please? Heartbreaking. Protecting Stiles even in full wolf form? Confusing. Stupid. Weird.

Grudging acceptance was not the way he wanted to go with this guy.

And so, when he saw another chance to piss the Alpha off by saving his ass, even though he had a whole pack he could call in for backup instead… Stiles just had to take it.

And yeah, technically he was the protector of the town now, after that vet had just disappeared and his Dad had dragged him back from Poland because they really needed the help. And after the weeks he’s had, with the Omega and the hunters and a family of wendigos - well, Stiles is never dismissing the Hellmouth-like quality of Beacon Hills ever again. So technically it was now his job to protect idiot martyr Alphas - even though his job description just said “consultant”.

Ugh, damn Alpha werewolf and his martyr complex.

“We have got to stop meeting like this, Sourwolf,” Stiles leaps in front of the monster with a smug grin on his face.

Is that actually a fucking kanima? He’s never seen one of those in the flesh before.

“Of course you’re here,” the Alpha is not amused.

“Danger’s calling,” Stiles shrugged as he erected a magical shield. “Did you murder anyone recently? Other than the wendigo? Because he shouldn’t be after you like this, sexy wolf.”

That one just kind of slipped out, but Stiles was certainly not going to walk it back. No, he was totally going to own it - he’d hit on Alpha werewolves before. Sure, those were probably less hot - and less of an asshole. Infuriatingly, that made this guy just Stiles’ type.

Which was something he’d have to contemplate after he saved him from the kanima.

“Please just call me Derek,” the Alpha hid his face.

Because he was actually… blushing? That was awesome. Even the kanima seemed to think it was funny, which was just…

“Is he our new Daddy?”

Where the kanima had just stood, a smug douche-looking guy had taken his place. There was still a slimy quality about him, but it didn’t seem like they were in any kind of real danger, so Stiles figured he could drop the shield.

“You interrupted our sparring session,” Alpha Derek had crossed his arms over his solid chest.

And no, Stiles, that was a terrible road to go down.

Best to focus on the fact that there was a fucking kanima in the pack, and no one had bothered to inform him of that. He was going to have to have words with his Dad about this. Yes, his father would hear about this.

“Still saved your wolfy butt,” Stiles had to argue.

“I was in no danger whatsoever,” Derek rolled his eyes.

Ugh, the sass was a great look on him, and that was just unfair. He was just glad he was good at masking scent, because he did not want the wolf to have that kind of advantage.

“Still counts.”

Figuring that was a decent enough exit line, Stiles made a magical escape. Sure, it was a waste of his power, but he was trying to make a good impression here. Sort of.

5 - Mr. Stilinski if you’re nasty 3 - Derek freaking Hale 2

Research was key, especially when dealing with a pack that he was going to be having dealings with for a long time, if his Dad had his way. Dad was so happy to finally have Stiles close again, that he was about five seconds away from setting up a play-date with Alpha Hale and his pack. He only dropped it when Stiles assured him that he had it handled.

Sure, his Dad only dropped it long enough to seriously laugh at him, but it worked.

So the next time he approached the Hale pack, he followed the protocol that Babcia had drummed into him. Which was all well and good, until they got attacked like ten seconds after Stiles had finally properly introduced himself to Derek.

“Chimeras,” the blonde girl cursed. “Fucking chimeras.”

Oh, his Dad had filled him in on those, and Stiles was not in any way looking forward to this, but he was prepared to handle them. If he had to, because those kids had probably not asked to be turned into this, had not asked to be made feral.

“We just have to hold them off long enough for Lydia to get the cure,” Derek showed why he was actually a good Alpha. “Stay safe. Be careful. Don’t go after them alone. You know Theo and his traps.”

Fucking Theo was still around? Of course he was. He was never happy until he was making everyone in this town miserable. Sucked for him that Stiles was back now, because Stiles had never had any patience for his brand of dangerous bullshit. Also, Stiles was way more powerful than he was, and he was going to enjoy rubbing that in Theo’s face.

Just, well, he still didn’t want to hurt any innocent people.

“There’s a cure?” Stiles turned to Derek. “I can hold them for a while. How long do you need?”

The look on Derek’s face was just unfair. It was grateful, warm, pleased - Derek trusted him, trusted Stiles with his life and his pack’s lives. And that was… stupid of him. Sure, Stiles had saved his life… well this would be the third time’s charm.

Okay maybe it wasn’t stupid.

And maybe they made it work, with the girl named Lydia - he vaguely remembered her from elementary school, before his Mom died and he went to live with Babcia to get a handle on his abilities - and all of Derek’s pack. But Stiles’ powers were the only reason no one was harmed while they waited for the cure to work.

That wasn’t arrogance, that was the painful truth.

“Thank you,” Derek looked at him way too sincerely.

“Yeah, had to save that hot ass,” Stiles was babbling, he knew he was. “Disregard that. I’m just going to go. Because well, it’s your turn next. Or whatever.”

It was. Stiles was in the lead now, and it wasn’t like Stiles wanted to be saved… He just wanted to be chased, a little. Maybe wanted Derek to like him. He wanted this not to be the last of this thing they were doing. He didn’t want to go back to the politics of it, the usual business of the pack and the protector.

He kinda just… wanted Derek. Which was stupid, but it was what is was.

6 - Stiles 3 - Derek 3

It took Jackson about fifteen jokes about getting a new daddy to get Derek moving. Yeah, he was disappointed in himself too.

But Stiles - and what even was that name - was different. He was the Sheriff’s son, a good old boy from Beacon Hills, but he was also a powerful mage and the most immature asshole Derek knew outside of his own pack. Derek was drawn in by him, like magic, but it was also terrifying.

But when he saw those hunters, those very same hunters that Stiles had chased off a few weeks ago, trying to move in for some revenge… Well, he didn’t even think. He just leapt, growled at them like they couldn’t just put him down with a single bullet.

“Stay away from him,” he growled out from a suddenly fanged mouth.

So much for his fabled control. Because they were threatening Stiles, and Stiles was…

Not his. Not like pack, no matter how badly Derek wanted just that. Because Stiles had proven himself worthy, putting himself out there for Derek, risking himself to keep Derek’s pack safe. It made him special, made him worth taking note of as a potential ally. It was the humor, the flirting, the seeming fearlessness that made Stiles worth taking note of as a potential partner.

“Did the beast find himself a pet human?” Hunters were never original.

“A friend,” Derek growled. “A mage. A powerful mage. And the son of the Sheriff.”

Maybe he thought of Stiles as just another harmless human at first, as someone who needed protecting. He knew better now, knew just how dangerous Stiles could be to people who meant harm. Staying back and letting Stiles handle things was never going to be his first instinct, but having Stiles and his bag of tricks around could make such a difference in this dangerous town. They could really make a difference here.

“Skip the mating rituals,” the hunters were not impressed.

“I have Chris Argent on speed dial,” Derek warned, and somehow that worked.

Derek kept his claws out, kept up the beta shift just to be sure, but the hunters backed off Stiles and walked away. Sure, they’d be back, but Derek could handle it. Or he could let Chris do it.

“Guess we’re tied now,” Stiles turned to him, impish grin on his face.

“I’m sure we’ll have more opportunities,” Derek responded, because he knew exactly what this was. “But I’m not just going to let you win.”

This was actually a mating ritual - it was courting in the most roundabout way. And he didn’t have to doubt Stiles’ interest, because he was right there with him. They could bicker and get to know each other later, but the interest was obvious from both sides.

“Good,” Stiles stepped in closer.

“How about we go on a date that doesn’t involve violence?” Derek found himself making the first move. “Tomorrow night?”

That put him in the lead in another competition, and Stiles was already getting pouty that he hadn’t been the first to score. It was childish and overly competitive and perfect for Derek.

“I had that,” Stiles huffed. “I was going to ask you.”

Good, so at least they were definitely on the same page. And Stiles was going to say yes when he got over not being the one to ask.

“You snooze, you lose,” Derek pointed out.

“You’re terrible and I can’t believe I’m dating you,” Stiles rolled his eyes.

Okay, so maybe Stiles wasn’t over it yet, but he could work on it. His pack was going to mock him for all eternity, but Derek kind of couldn’t wait for Stiles to be a real part of his pack.

“I’m assuming that’s a yes,” Derek grinned. “Pick you up at seven.”

As Stiles huffed and puffed and groaned, Derek was the one making a perfectly-timed exit this time.

Score for Hale.

[keeroo92]

Can we get a cute fic with a smaller, timid male finally confessing his feelings to Dante and Dante just being completely smitten? I need the fluffiest fluff for my fragile heart

Eek, how sweet! Thank you for this, I had a ton of fun writing this! There’s a lil bit of angst, my bad... Hope you enjoy!

Word count - 1,608

________

For years, you harbored your feelings in silence. Any time you came close to spilling the beans, you reminded yourself of the myriad of reasons Dante could never be yours.

Chief among them was that you were pretty damn sure he wasn’t gay.

The rest were circumstantial, debatable and easy enough to talk yourself out of caring about, but that one cruel fact remained. You simply weren’t his type, through no fault of your own.

It still hurt, though.

Little things made it worse, like when he called someone ‘babe’ or teased about the noises Nero and Kyrie made over the weekend in the spare room. Anytime he patted you on the back, making a crack about whatever was going on around you. The worst was how amazing his mouth looked when he ate pizza, slurping away at the warm cheese and moaning at the flavor…

You wondered if anyone else got jealous of food.

Regardless. Everything changed six months ago when he brought a guy home. Some tall asshole with ear gauges and black jeans, basically the opposite of your small self. You were heartbroken, knowing the context of the new face and realizing how wrong you were about Dante’s preferences.

At least the guy hadn’t stuck around long. Small mercies.

Once he was gone, things settled down for a while. Dante made his usual jokes, munching away on pizza and driving you nuts with every bite. He patted your back and made fun of Vergil when he misplaced a book. Nero stormed off in a huff whenever the man in red quipped something about selling tickets.

The knowledge that Dante was, at the very least, open to being with a man made it more and more difficult to talk yourself out of confessing. You struggled every day to hold back, biting your lips and muttering excuses so you could retreat until the urge faded. The others gave you some funny looks, but Dante didn’t seem to notice your strange behavior. Another reason to keep it hidden – he didn’t care enough to pay attention to your quirks.

Little did you know how wrong you were.

Dante knew something was up. At first, he assumed you’d deal with it on your own and he didn’t need to worry, but as the weeks dragged on his concern grew. You could barely look him in the eyes sometimes. You flinched when he touched you. You even stopped coming to his weekly movie night.

It hurt. You were his friend and he wanted you to be happy. If something was up, he wanted to help you fix it. Seeing you in pain, day after day was more agonizing than the time Vergil stabbed him as a teenager.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and he pulled you aside, muscles already tensed to fight off the source. You looked confused and maybe a little scared as he dragged you to the kitchen and sat you down at the cracked plastic countertop. To help ease the tension, he poured two shots of whiskey and forced one into your hand, clinking his own glass against it and downing it in one gulp.

“So. What’s been bugging ya?” he asked, slamming the shot glass on the counter.

You froze. Who told him? Why now? Did it even matter?

Probably not. You licked your lips and replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dante snorted and gestured at the still-full shot glass in your hand. “Drink up. I’m not taking any more bullshit.”

Shit.

The man was legendary for sniffing out half-truths and lies. It was a goddamned miracle he hadn’t figured you out yet. You raised the glass and cringed as the amber fluid slid down your throat, coughing as you set the glass down again. A firm hand smacked your spine in a rough approximation of helping.

“Better out than in, right?”

You glared at him and he chuckled, reaching for the bottle to pour another round. He downed half a shot and raised an eyebrow at you, blatantly ignoring your shaking head as he poured a matching amount in your glass.

“Come on, Y/N. How bad could it be? Let me help you sort it out.”

He’s not going to let this go. I’m a goner.

You held your breath and emptied your glass. This time you managed to maintain a shred of composure, only clearing your throat to ease the alcohol’s passage.

“You can’t help me with this,” you said.

“Why the fuck not?”

You bit your lip, eyes darting around in search of a safe escape. After this long, even to think of telling him had you in a cold sweat.

“Hey, look at me.” His hand grasped your chin and forced you to meet his stern gaze. “Why. The fuck. Not?”

The calloused fingers on your chin were too much. Even that small contact felt so damned good, and you closed your eyes as your lips parted.

“Because you’re the issue!”

He chuckled and lowered his hand. Your soul cried out at the loss.

“Me? What did I do? Tell me and I’ll make it right.”

He poured another round of shots and grinned. You didn’t bother protesting and followed his lead to slam the drink with a shudder.

“The problem isn’t something you did, its something you’ll never do,” you whispered. The tile floor was suddenly fascinating; you couldn’t tear your eyes off the grimy grey surface.

“Well, I definitely won’t do it if you can’t even tell me what it is,” he replied sardonically.

He has a point. Damnit.

You really couldn’t expect anything to change if you refused to tell him and holding onto the pain was too painful to bear. It begged to be spoken, the confession waiting on your tongue. Every nerve screamed at you to do it, to just open your mouth and say the damned words, but something still held you back. He didn’t want you; it was lunacy to pretend otherwise.

A warm weight rested on your shoulder and your eyes lifted to find his staring at you. A gloved hand gripped you and you reached for another drink. Haze clouded your thoughts, but one urgent need shone through the fog.

Don’t say it.

Don’t you fucking say it, Y/N.

“I want you, Dante. I have for a long time,” your traitorous lips said.

God damnit. This is why I don’t drink. Fucking stupid.

A soft hum rumbled in his chest as his eyes lit up. Was that humor? If he started laughing you might have to run, hide somewhere and sleep off the buzz. Go home and never come back.

“Uh, I… I don’t really know what to say.”

You dropped your eyes back to the floor. “It’s okay. I know I’m not your type.”

He sighed and another warm weight dropped onto your knee. “That’s not what I meant. I’m pretty crap at this stuff, you know. Just… give me a sec, yeah?”

You focused on a crack in the tile. It surprised you that you weren’t crying. Maybe after so long, you just didn’t have it in you? Or maybe the drinks were messing with you. Whatever, it didn’t matter.

His thumb rubbed a tiny circle on your knee. An intimate gesture, one you’d never seen the mighty devil hunter perform before. It felt really, really good and you bit your lip to restrain the pleased hum rising in your body.

“Okay… so I gotta set you straight here. I don’t… I don’t have a type. If it feels right, who gives a shit what people look like?”

That made sense, in a Dante sort of way.

“And… look, I suck at this. But, you know what? You’ve always felt right to me.”

The hand on your shoulder drifted inward to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your lower lip as it twisted into a smile. His touch was like acid, burning through all the layers of doubt and fear to reveal the truth you’d kept hidden for so long. You had to be dreaming, nothing else made any sense.

And if this is a dream, I can do whatever the fuck I want.

Part of you wanted nothing more than to tackle him and fulfill your wildest fantasies, but a more rational voice overpowered the urge. There were too many other things that needed to be said first.

“So, wait… why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, squinting.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I was scared?”

Dante?! Scared?! You gotta be shitting me.

Laughter bubbled out of your mouth, gaining strength the longer his sheepish expression stared at you. It was unbelievable, the man who charged into demon infested hellscapes on a regular basis, cracking jokes as he demolished the hordes, scared?

“Quit laughing, I know it’s dumb.”

You gathered your wits, choking back the last few peals of mirth as you reached out to feel his coarse stubble. It wasn’t as rough as you imagined. What would it feel like to have it pressed against your face, his lips locked on yours?

You longed to find out. “I would… very much like to kiss you now.”

Dante leaned closer, pulling your head to rest on his chest with a goofy smile. “How ‘bout we wait till morning? I’d hate to not remember our first kiss.”

He’s got a good point.

“One condition – I’m sleeping next to you. No more waiting,” you replied. “I want that kiss first thing in the morning, got it?”

He chuckled and helped you to your feet, already pulling you in the direction of his bedroom. “You got it, babe.”

[imaginaryparisienne]

It was very dark November day. All the lights disappeared from the air. In the subway people squeezed me like half empty toothpaste tube and it was exactly how I felt that day – empty and unneeded.

“Hey, lady, just smile!” – somebody cried out for me when I walked into Starbucks, dreaming only about large coffee with lot of sugar to wake me up. Oh man, smiling never has been my keen. I’m from Eastern Europe. People don’t smile without reason there. Smiling is privilege, reserved to special occasion, right? I stuck to it. Working as a make-up artist I learned to talk to people. I discuss with myself because they can’t answer me back – having their faces blocked under layers of makeup, not letting to open their mouth or eyes. Mostly I just babble about nothing, but sometimes memories hit my brain and I opened my soul up, saying out loud the weirdest story from my childhood. Like funeral of guinea pig on the meadow. Me and my best friend Dominika holding hands in the circle of other kids standing around the small shoe box - the modest coffin. Dandelion crowns on our bright hair. Dominika’s pouty lips, teary eyes, skinny knees with several scabs. Our solemn look. Me, always so serious, so conscious, even as a child.

When I walked out on the street, holding my coffee, it was started to rain. Not having the umbrella I had to hide under the trees. “What a gloomy day” – I rumbled to myself, when unexpectedly my phone rang. It was Katie aka Katinka. She worked in local newspaper as an assistant of photographer, we met each other during our English classes for emigrants, couple years ago. Lonely, naive and despaired I struggled with reality, being an open aim to all these cruel guys who just used me and never called back. Katie was my only light in a dark when things went wrong here. Always ready to giving kudos. I could ring her in the middle of the night and she was there for me, listening carefully and bring my sanity back. Now it was her to ask for help.

“Hi, dear, I need to have makeup done immediately”, she said directly. I heard desperation in her voice. “Some famous actor will be here in couples of minutes and Meggie had problems again, fuck, I can’t with her, what am I supposed to do right now? You are my only hope. Please, take a cab and go here. I fought for this photoshoot so hard”. “Who is he actually? – I asked her, throwing the empty paper cup into the bin and hailing a cab. “The young movie celeb, a matinée”, Katie answered, “His name is Timothée Chalamet. Have you heard of him? He is rising star, year or two and he will be too expensive to having him. So the time is now. Are you already in the cab?” “Yeah”, I assured her. “Take it easy. I’ll be there soon”.

We arrived to the studio almost in the same time. Timothée was tall and skinny, with a tousled mop of curly hair and very pale skin. I instantly thought of warm it up, a tone or two. “Just Tim”, he said to me with a smile and shook my hand. Then he sank into the armchair with a sigh. “Need more sleep, sorry” – he murmured, yawning. After checked his deep eye bags I couldn’t agree more. Some work must be done on this delicate angel skin. I took a bobby pin and pin down his mischievous curls, to have forehead uncovered. It surprised me how silky his hair was, my fingers wandered way to long through it.

He closed his beautiful green eyes. Long eyelashes put a shadow on his cheeks. Before I arrived to the studio I googled him and found out that people Photoshopped his pictures into the classic art. I thought then it was funny, but now I was sure he IS just a real piece of art. How even a man can have such a rosy lips, I thought. I should use the applicator but I couldn’t help myself and decided to smooth the color by my fingertips. The sensation was overwhelming. It was like to touch a fresh opened marshmallow.

I dripped a drop of liquid make up on my hand palm, waited for a moment to warm it, then smudged it slowly on Tim's skin, in circled movements. I felt his strong bones structures under my fingers, contrasted with velvety skin. Holy fuck he was damn sexy. “You are such a perfect mix of masculine and feminine”. Words escaped me before I even could stop myself. But he just smiled back, so I asked, “Do you mind I put the makeup on you in more girlish way? I mean some color shadow and maybe shimmer lipstick”.

He agreed so I did this. My hands worked vigorously and soon Tim’s eyelids shone like moonlight and his perfectly curved lips become more pinky and glossy. So kissable, I thought and suddenly my mind went to Dominika’s childish lips. A sweltering summer’s afternoon many years ago. We lurked behind the garages, our sweaty bodies rubbing against each other, I tasted the salt on her skin, we licked each other lips not knowing what more we can do. It was like hot hurricane, like desert storm. When we at last felt apart I still had in my mouth a sweet pieces of bubble gum called Donald, which Dominika forgot to spit out before we started to kiss. Never again I felt that way, with any of men who fucked me, no matter how sophisticated things we did in bed. There were nights when I still dreamed about those childhood days of real closeness, tender and mild.

“So go for it.” Tim suddenly opened his eyes, looked directly into me. Have I said it aloud? Oh my God. I shook my head with a shame. “You described it so beautifully. You long for it. Why are you fooling yourself? Look at what you have done in my case.” He looked at the mirror, glancing his face. “You almost transform me into beautify gal, and I appreciate it, love it, because why not? But do you know what it means to you, what it show about you, hmm?

I gasped the air not being able to say a word. This beautiful creature sitting here said it out loud all my secret thoughts and call my childhood dreams. How this young guy could be so perceptive? “But how did you guess it so perfectly?” – I blurted out still astonished. Some shadow flitted across his face. It was a brief moment but I noticed. “Cause I feel the same?” – he murmured and closed his eyes again, lying back to the armchair.

We didn’t talk anymore. I worked quickly, giving my best. The photo session turned to success. Many other magazines commented it as another proof that Chalamet is brave new world softboi icon, who has courage to live up to whoever he want to be.

It has been almost a year since our met up. Sometimes, cuddling with Katinka in our bed, listening to the sound of raindrops pouring down the New York street I think about that rosy lips boy. No doubtfully he helped me find my own voice, but is he already find it for himself?

[bitch-aucoin]

Meouch’s finger slips and he orders 20 pizzas instead of 2. And it was all charged to Sung’s credit card.

(this was very off the top of my head i hope u enjoy anon)

They had tried to be smart about it. Really, they had.

It would start around four to five PM, usually, with a sigh, a grumble, possibly even a soft posing of “...you guys hungry yet?”

And then, chaos. Pandora’s fucking box.

Hogan was never part of the equation. He would simply sit there and and watch them squabble-fuss-moan over what they were going to eat for dinner that night, expression teetering between amusement and being bored. 

So the problem really boiled down to him, Phobos, and Sung, which probably actually helped out. Three opinions, after all, already made it tough enough. He could work with the smaller man more often than not, at least,, whose only preference is that it be Earthen food, but then Phobos would step in.

And Phobos would open his damn mouth.

And then Phobos would ruin his life.

Eat healthy, eat better, eat well. Posed so sweetly, so well-meaningfully, that Sung couldn’t help but agree with the other alien. And Phobos knew. Would smile a smug, small smile when Sung began listing off build your own salad bars and probiotic smoothies he wanted to try and free range-locally sourced stuff. 

And every time, without fail, Meouch would then freak the fuck out. He was a carnivore, he liked meat, he couldn’t take it anymore! All he wanted was fat and sugar and grease, which then would get Sung’s attention because he had an infamous sweet tooth, and Phobos’s reprimand.

On and on, they ouroborosed themselves into oblivion like that, the struggle seemingly endless until Havve suggested their magnum opus.

The suggestion board.

Really, Meouch was certain the bastard was looking at excuse to throw his knives inside, but Sung liked to think that he just wanted to get involved. Be a part of the fun, you know? So they went and installed a cork board and pinned their top five suggestions and Meouch let Havve borrow his headband to double as a blindfold before they let him wind back and go.

It struck, sure as an arrow, and for a time things were easy and undeniable and good. It was luck, chance, and the Fates guiding them.

But then the impossible happened.

Pizza night.

-

“Do it again.”

They didn’t even watch Havve do it anymore. It felt like questioning a lesser god, in a sense. They would simply lounge around various parts of the cockpit instead, keeping to themselves. The robot cocked his head towards Sung, who then began to translate for him.

“What do you mean, do it again?” It was a double layered question for both the cyclops and his robot companion, Meouch supposed. Phobos was standing next to the board though, slim arms folded across his chest, something about him undeniable despite being so soft and pink and small.

“Because we’re not doing this.”

“That’s not how the rules work.” Meouch groused as he stood up, stalking over to the younger male. “We agreed, no questioning the knife.” That meant questioning Havve, and they all knew better than that.

Phobos shoved the paper in his face and it took Meouch a moment to make sense of it, but once he did he snorted, then shook his head, lips pulling back to flash his fangs in a casual threat. “You are not taking pizza away from me. That’s set in stone, bitch.”

“Pizza!” Sung clamored excitedly, jogging over to them, summoned by it’s name. Hook line and sinker, every time. The Doc loved his pizza, and he wouldn’t be denied. Especially since it had been months since they had last had a slice. He was throwing Phobos his best puppy eyed look now, nearly vibrating in place. “There’s gotta be an option that you’ll like, Phobs! Please?”

“There’s too many places to order from, too many types.” Phobos insisted, waving the tattered paper about. “We’re gonna spend all night trying to figure it out.”

Havve leaned into their conversation and Sung gave a soft and pleased “oh!” as they began to converse silently. “Havve just said... to order two pizzas! And also that he doesn’t appreciate the indecision on our part.” A pause, then Sung pushed the robot, brow furrowing. “I’m not saying that!”

“Did he say he was going to kill us if we chose something else?” Meouch drawled.

“...Maybe...” Sung admitted, looking embarrassed on Havve’s behalf.

Meouch rolled his eyes towards the Lepid with a smirk. “And that’s why we don’t question the knife, Phobos.” It was as easy as that.

Phobos threw his hands up, causing the paper to flutter, but it was clear they had won. And good. Phobos had had the last week’s worth of meals, Meouch was ready for something else.

It did take them time though. Because if they were going to order pizza then there had to be leftovers and that meant that both pizzas had to be divvied up. It was only fair, that way, and also why they didn’t just get more than two. They were musicians, after all, and sometimes-maybe vigilantes. They couldn’t spend too much. They all agreed on light sauce, at the very least, but then came the question of crust, extra cheese, meats, veggies, breadsticks...

It escalated to the point of Sung jumping between him and Phobos at one point, threatening to nunchuck the shit out of them if they didn’t calm down. And as always, Havve watched as it got progressively worse and worse, fists tucked under his rusting jaw, optics flashing quietly.

“OKAY. SO.” Meouch growled. “We’re going with... two hand tossed pizzas with light marinara sauce. First one is half of a meat lovers with extra cheese and garlic crust, then the other half is a taco pizza with no tomatoes with plain crust. The other one is going to be vegan cheese with every fucking veggie topping in existence on one side, and the other...” He paused and made a disgusted face and noise. “Hawaiian, extra pineapple. Gods, you guys are so fucking gross.”

“All pizza is good pizza.” Sung hummed. “I still wish we were getting the chicken and waffle one...” He sighed morosely then, kicking his legs up.

“You can get that on your own time. Now give me your credit info Phobos.”

Phobos’s head jerked in his direction, dark eyes tightening. “I’m not paying for it, Meouch. You are!”

“OH. Oh no I am not!” They were getting up in each other’s faces again, the tension inevitable. It was the hangriness, Meouch was sure of it, all of them practically starving at this point. “First you try to deny me my pizza, now you’re saying you’re not paying for it?”

Phobos got right up in his face, antennae curling in anger. “If you want it so much, you can take care of it! I paid for the last one!”

Meouch let out a sharp laugh of disbelief. He couldn’t be serious! “What last one? Last pizza!? It’s your turn, asshole!”

“I’LL PAY!” Sung shouted loudly, frisbee-ing his credit card at Meouch’s head seconds later. “JUST SHUT UP AND LET ME PAY FOR IT. And get me a large orange soda.” He went back down on the couch, mumbling to himself sullenly. “Because after all of this, I deserve it.”

Eyeing Phobos furiously as he typed the credit card information in with his claw, Meouch went about finalizing the order. “I swear to the gods, one of these days you’re going to get over this whole health guru kick and actually start enjoying yourself like a normal person and we can stop having these stupid fights.” He muttered sourly, not caring anymore.

“Oh that’s funny! I could say the same thing about you.” What he would give to just slam Phobos’s helmet over his head. He never spoke when he had that thing on... Wait, where was he again? “You’re going to have a heart attack and then you’ll come crawling to me for better living tips.”

“I have nine lives, you idiot! I don’t have to worry about that!” He slammed his paws down on the keyboard, causing Havve to shake his head and walk away. 

“WELL SUNG DOESN’T, ASSHOLE!” Phobos nearly shrieked.

Meouch spluttered and rolled his eyes, not caring anymore. “SUNG CAN DO ONE HUNDRED JUMPING JACKS IN LIKE, A MINUTE. I THINK HE’S FINE!”

“It’s actually seventy-five!” Sung interjected, causing both of them to whip towards them. “I’M JUST SAYING! WAIT! GUYS! WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?”

Phobos went out one door and Meouch went out the other and they stayed that way until the pizza’s showed up.

All 20 of them.

-

Meouch wasn’t even aware of his terrible mistake until Sung screamed.

Phobos was faster getting to Sung than he was, something that he would probably brag about if he wasn’t staring at the current situation with even more than usual bug eyes. 

20 pizza boxes.

20 damn pizza boxes.

Havve had ten each balanced on both hands, looking stupid indifferent as Sung gaped at him. “B-but we can’t eat that much. A-and...” That’s when Meouch saw the receipt in his shaking hands. The painfully long receipt, detailing just how many pizzas they had gotten and for how much.

They all looked at him then, and Meouch could feel the floor slipping out from under him.

“It was an accident!” Meouch tried to protest, guilt growing as they all continued to stare at them except for Sung. “It could happen to anyone!” He panicked.

“...I didn’t even get my soda...” Sung whimpered after a moment of looking back at the pizzas and then the receipt once more, hanging his head in defeat.

“I told you.” Phobos at least had the kindness not to sneer or look smug as he addressed Meouch, only going as far as to shake his head as he put his arm around Sung, slowly damning him. “We should have picked something else.”

And that’s the story of how Commander Meouch lost his food ordering rights.

[muskycat]

You’re mine

 (One shot Underfell Sans “Red” x Older female Frisk”)

Frisk woke up, confused and not knowing what the hell had happened. Since she had fallen into that hole, her world had become complicated. Those monsters, she knew they weren’t as bad as they wanted her to believe. Even so, she had had to face death several times, many had lost. If it were not for her determination ... but Frisk was unable to blame them. She loved them and they had ended up reciprocating her love ... in their own way.

“Flowey?” Once more clear, Frisk sought out her friend, the only one who had been kind to her from the beginning. The flower wasn’t with her, for the first time Frisk felt lonely. In those moments his advice would have come very well in her frightened loneliness, “Where I am?”

Frisk soon recognized the bars and the cold was a good clue. She didn’t understand, why had she returned to Snowdin? How? The last thing she remembered was the castle of Asgore. It had been a long and arduous road, many monsters had interposed in their route: Papyrus, Undyne, Mettaton ... but she had been kind, her best weapon. And so she had defeated them, with the final hug that everyone needed.

After this, Flowey and Frisk had reached their final destination, guided by Aphys. They were crossing a long golden hall filled with stained glass windows, thinking of the scientist's last words when Frisk saw a shadow, which vanished as she approached. Then, Flowey said something she didn’t understand before feeling a blow to the head and fainting.

“I don’t understand, why did Papyrus bring me here? He doesn’t usually leave Snowdin, only when he goes to see Undyne. And he has never gone that far. Nor would he take Flowey. The only one I see doing that is...”

Her chest vibrated and her heart began to beat with intensity. At least there was one thing she understood: she had failed to identify the brother. Sans, although everyone called him Red, had been watching her all the way, in the shadows. And it always stayed in the background, unless she came close and started the conversation. She liked to be with him but Red seemed to hate her. Red dodged her, he was rough with her and his jokes ... more than making her laugh they terrified her. Red and Flowey hated each other, but she knew there was something more behind those cold, cruel manners. There had to be... or she had become as masochistic as he was.

Frisk scratched her neck, restless with her thoughts. It was when she felt the touch of her new complement. Her fingers brushed it, remembered the spiked necklace that Red always wore. Frisk took it off to watch it. It wasn’t like Red's, it didn’t have that punk style, the latest style of the underground. It was red too, no decorations, except a skull-shaped plate. That necklace reminded her more ... of a pet.

“Don’t you like the gift that I bought?”

Before she could do anything, some hands pulled her back. Frisk tried to scream, she didn’t have a second of respite when her new necklace was snatched from her hands. Other bony ones put it back on her neck, holding in it another new complement. A belt.

Frisk turned to the bars and saw Red, standing next to her. It seemed funny with her confusion, in his hands was the end of the leash. Frisk had many questions and didn’t know where to start.

“I shouldn’t be here.” She decided not to make any. All were equally important, and all were summarized in that phrase.

Red didn’t react, although he looked annoyed. But he knew how to play well to hide his emotions. He took a couple more steps towards the girl. His brother had left too much space between the bars but he didn’t care. Frisk would never do anything bad to any monster. That adorable attitude is what had led him to make that decision.

“You're wrong, kid. This is your place. And here you will have what remains of your life. So I hope you like the spaghetti of Papyrus.”

“What are you talking about?”Frisk shook her head, “No, I must continue, find Flowey and see Asg ...”

Red was very fast, she couldn’t react again. Using the strap, Red pulled her to his position. The girl's eyes were only inches away from his, two red spheres that frightened her as they attracted her.

“Is it that you haven’t heard me, pet? Now you belong to me. And if I tell you something, you obey me.”

“Red, what are you doing? Let me go. Please.”

“That's your problem, kiddo. Do you think that with some nice words you will get what you want here? You've been lucky, but this is not going to help you with Asgore. You don’t know him, Frisk. But that doesn’t matter. He will never know about you.”

“Red.” The skeleton returned to pull the strap, this time stronger. It did some damage but she didn’t care. She felt like an idiot, why did she think about how close their mouths were when that same monster tried to take away her freedom?

“Shut up!” His words were tinged with fury but this time there was something else. A new feeling that she hadn’t seen in him, “You won’t go until your death, do you hear me Frisk? I won’t allow you to be destroyed by a stupid idea.

“Saving you isn’t stupid.”

“You haven’t seen us? No one deserves salvation here below. Nobody deserves your soul. Not even me. But I am selfish enough not to let the only person who has treated me well leave my side.”

There were a few seconds of silence before Frisk began to laugh, in a low voice.

“Well ... I didn’t expect that.”

“Where is the joke?” Red said, frowning. His gesture vanished as Frisk's arms wrapped around his neck.

“Forgive me, Red,I didn’t want to offend you. It's just that ... I thought I was the only one.”

“The only one what?” Red started to blush. He wasn’t used to those gestures, or to that closeness.

“The only one who has fallen in love with who shouldn’t. They always told me I was an idiot, I suppose they were right.”

"No." Red stroked her hair, letting go of the strap, “They're wrong, you're not an idiot. You're the best I've had in my fucking world.”

They both sought each other's mouths, in sync, longing for the same kiss they needed. They let it stretch out, everything they needed. For too long they had wanted to confess, inhibited by shame, for not being worthy of that kind of love. But that was over.

"Please," Red pleaded, still breathing her breath, “Stay with me. I can make you happy here. I don’t need anymore. Fuck the surface, you're not going to be the seventh soul.”

"I must do it,Red" said Frisk, “But I don’t want to die. Not definitely There is another solution, I know. And I will find it.”

“Your determination is impossible to break, right, sweetheart?” Red grunted, “I hate to love that.”

“Hate what you want. It is already decided.”

Red sighed, unable to convince the girl. If he could, he wouldn’t let anything from that damned underground touch her and corrupt her. But it wasn’t his decision.

“It's okay. I'll take you to the throne room again. But I want two things in return.”

“Tell me.”

“You have days to die. Leave me this day for me, please. I have felt too much LOVE in my life. I only ask you one day to discover what love is. It's stupid but ...”

"Okay." Frisk accepted before he finished. Now that they both knew what they felt, she also wanted to meet the Red behind that aggressive layer, “What is the other?”

Red said nothing, just lowered his hands from her face to her neck. Frisk tried to hide her blush while he removed that pet collar. Then he took off his, more elegant and put it on the girl.

“With it, monsters will respect you.” Red smiled sincerely, for the first time in many years, “Don’t take it off, honey.”

“Never.” Frisk hugged him, hiding her tears. She was afraid, she wasn’t going to hide it. But Asgore was her next destination. She must end her trip once and for all.

But today wasn’t that day.

[rotulus-nfa]

Written 9/24/17 - pics from hike   Well, I’m feeling pretty accomplished about this last week. I did my NFA workouts M/W/F, did the boss battle on Friday instead of 1A or 1B, and fucking smashed it. So now I’m at level 2! I haven’t even looked over the workouts to see what I’m going to be doing tomorrow for that, but I’m sure I’m gonna feel a bit like death. Maybe. Not sure how much of a step up the leveling is. At least it’s a short work week? I’m going to make the M/W/F workout schedule my norm, I think, with some wiggle room as to if I’m doing Friday or Saturday, depending on which day I’m going on a hike/the weather/social obligations etc. It means that I’ll be doing intentional physical activities 5 days a week, which… is truly fucking odd to say, but I’m really proud of the progress I’ve made so far. I never thought I’d be that person who works out several times a week, but here I am, and I feel so much better than I have in years. My weight is back down to what’s been my “normal” range for my adult life – which is still pretty damn overweight, but much better than I was a few months ago. My jeans and other woven pants fit again, my shirts are less tight across my stomach, my underwear actually stays up for the most part, my bra bands don’t feel like their cutting in anymore… I’ve still got a long ways to go, but it’s good progress. I’m just hoping I can keep it going over the cooler and rainier months. The workouts and dancing shouldn’t be a problem, but I’d like to keep doing outside activities too. I do have a proper rain shell now, but I need to get some hiking boots still. And I’ve been thinking about starting to do the stairs at Mt. Tabor. Which, what the fuck, who am I? But that’ll defiantly get my heart rate up, and also help get my legs in better shape. Especially if we’re still planning on summiting Hood in May or June next year.   It’s not just what the scale says, or how my clothes are fitting, I also feel stronger, and my endurance/stamina has noticeably improved. Funny it was something I really started to see this last week, what with it being a long work week, and my first week of three NFA workouts. I didn’t feel as winded when I was out dancing, or when I was hiking yesterday, and my legs weren’t protesting nearly as much as they have in the past. In fact, I don’t think I was really feeling any of the muscle burn on the hike yesterday at all, or if I did I didn’t really notice it. Breathing hard and sweating, sure, but not panting, no stitch in my side or burning in my claves or thighs. Also, despite the still thick layer of blubber I’m carting around, I’m starting to see some muscle definition beyond the bicep. At least when I flex. My forearms are pretty damn solid, as I discovered last night, as are my calves now. I can actually feel a lot of my muscles moving and working, and not in a “I overexerted myself and now things are Wrong” kind of noticing my muscles. Which, now that I’m thinking about it, is a lot of what me being aware of my body was before all this – does this hurt, yes or no? Yikes. Apparently a lot of people struggle with loosing fat and gaining muscle at the same time, but it seems like that’s what I’m doing? I know I’m stronger: I can do so much more now than I could a few months ago. And I know I’ve also dropped a significant amount of weight, so I have to be burning fat, especially since muscle weighs more. So yay? I’m going to keep on doing what I have been doing, and look for more opportunities to improve and step it up. I’ve just leveled up on my workouts, both in intensity and frequency, so I’m hoping that’s going to get me noticeable results. I’m also going to be more aware of portion sizes and drinking more water – before meals, not after them.   New Rule: Drink at least one glass of water before you eat anything   This will help twofold: thirst is often mistaken for hunger, which is part of the reasons many people overeat; my stomach will have lots of water in it and won’t have as much room for food, which means I probably won’t eat as much, at least in that sitting. I might eat more frequently, but I’m really making an effort to actually listen to my body and give it what it needs, rather than just fall back on old habits of what the pleasure centers in my brain think I want. Like, I worked out a ton this week, but I also had a lot more bread-type things than I have in a while. On the equinox – which is also Hobbit Day – we went out to Hopworks and I got pretzels with cheesy-beer sauce, a pulled pork slider, ½ a Stromboli sandwich/pocket, and a beer. Which, is not great, but also not the worst thing I’ve done.  I also baked some bread – with some seeds and things, so not totally terrible – to go with the soups I’ve made, and I made a loaf of chocolate chip pumpkin bread, which, again, I made with partial whole wheat and didn’t do as much sugar, and subbed most of the butter for coconut oil, but still, rather cake-like. Oh well. I’m working on getting a good balance, and while I’m not banishing grains completely, I’m still really trying to minimize processed grains like bread and pasta, especially when they’re combined with overly sugared things like brownies and cake, or super fatty and dairy stuff like mac n’ cheese – (fuck, now I want all of these things…). But they used to be my fall backs and defaults when I didn’t feel like putting in effort or was tired from work (which was honestly far more often than I’d like to admit). I’m glad I’ve managed to break those habits. I still let myself have these things, but they’re occasional indulgences rather than habitual consumption.   On our hike yesterday we detoured off the main path to go poke around an old orchard with all these interestingly gnarled old trees. There was one in particular that had this huge branch that swooped down kind of low – I couldn’t quite walk under it at the tallest bit, and the bottom of it was probably around my waist. Anyway, on a whim I grabbed onto the branch in this big bear-hug at the taller bit and swung my legs up, managed to catch the branch and hold it for a bit. Then my sister wanted to try, but couldn’t quite get it (“Damn you, tall people” was her response). I then tried again, this time got my legs wrapped around it too. So there I am, hanging upside down from this more-or-less horizontal huge branch laughing my ass off because a) it’s fucking ridiculous, a grown woman hanging off a tree like a five year old, and b) I didn’t think I had developed the muscles needed  to do this kind of thing. It felt good. Freeing and fun and utterly ridiculous and exactly the kind of thing I needed.

[seohyunnim]

I married my best friend - Part 1

Table of contents : Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff.

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

Summary: It all began with a lie. You ended up marrying your best friend, Jongdae. Will this be for the best ? Or the worst ? 

You faced your husband to be, alias your best friend Jongdae. Both of you concluded a deal which started with your lie. But how did it really begin ?

You met your ex some days ago. He left you miserably two months ago. But visibly, he forgot well about you since you met him with his new girlfriend. Well, his mistress. When he asked you how you were doing, you couldn’t help but responded that you got married, which surprised your ex and your rival. « To who ? » he asked, and then, the first person you thought was Jongdae. Immediately after that embarrassing moment, you felt guilty because Jongdae had nothing to do with your poor heartbroken story.

When you called him right after that, saying you needed to see him right now, he didn’t oppose but was curious about why you needed to see him so much. After explaining this big lie he laughed.  You were at his apartment. He couldn’t stop laughing, so hard that you pouted, vexed by his attitude toward you as you we worried. You sighed and said desperately : « It’s not funny Jongdae ! ».

Jongdae stopped laughing and looked back at you with a mischievous smile. « Ah waeeee ! Why you said that ? » « I don’t know ! » you responded. « I…I wanted to make him regret what he’s done to me ! » « By saying you’re married, and to ME ? Do you really think he’ll believe you ? » « I don’t know, but … »

Your conversation was interrupted by the notification of your phone. It was your other best friend, Jin Hee. « OMG ! Is that true that you married Jongdae ?! ». You screamed in despair, dropping your phone on the table. « What ? » he asked. You showed your phone to him, hiding your eyes. « Has this piece of shit just spread that damn lie ? » You felt more and more guilty. « It seems so… Oh my god, Jongdae I’m so sorry ! » . You didn’t answer to Jin Hee.

You let a heavy silence as you both think hard about how you were going to escape from that well build trap that you made yourself. « Okay, we have no choice » he said suddenly. « Eh ? ». He looked right at your eyes. « We’re getting married ». You choked yourself with your saliva. « What ?! But Jongdae are you crazy ?! What about you ? I mean, we are BEST FRIENDS, we can’t be HUSBAND & WIFE ». « Did you see it written somewhere ? » « No but… » « Enough. I guess it can’t be helped, and…I have to say that I always wanted to get revenge on this little bullshit when he cheated on you. And it’s not like we didn’t know each other. What would you have done if you had said a random name ? » « I… » « See ? »

And that’s how you decided to get married. You tried to see it positively. Living with Jongdae was not a problem. You were getting along really well, and your families loved you both. Hence, you decided to establish rules:

- No unnecessary skinships when we are alone. - No random guests without telling each other -because you wanted to lie well- No sexual contact Texting each other if we have told something to a common acquaintance. Not falling in love with each other.

That’s what you suggested and Jongdae didn’t have any objections. Your family was surprised but happy about your wedding with Jongdae. You lied about your pretended romance with him, saying that you were in love with him for a long time ago and so he said to his family. The hardest thing passed. But, all of your common friends were shocked. You wondered if they believed you.

« Whaaaaat ? You are getting married ?! You two ? » cried Chanyeol « Er…Yeah » you said. « You little…I can’t believe that you are saying it to us after all of these loyal years ! » growled Baekhyun. « Sorry guys ! I know that you are shocked but - Jongdae held your hand with a perfect smile-…We are truly in love - you shivered- and we didn’t want to hide anymore » « Well played ! I was fucking shocked when Min Son - your ex- told me that » said Jin Hee. « How could you not tell me Y/N ? » « I’m sorry…I…I » « I told her not to say anything » said Jongdae.

You owned him one. He was so good at lying but you were too nervous to act well, but you had too. That’s what Jongdae reminded you on pressing your hand in his.

« Yeah…Actually I felt so bad not telling you guys…We were afraid that you would be…upset » you finished. « Upset ? Us ? For God’s sake ! You thought that we would opposed to this ? I mean, you are our friends, if you love each other then that’s wonderful… » added Sehun, the youngest of the crew. « Eeh, you lied to us so you have to pay for that » said Minseok playfully. « You have to invite us to your wedding ceremony » « As if we wouldn’t » answered Jongdae with his mischievous laughed.

Relieved that all of your friends believed you, all that you needed to do was the form, and that damn ceremony. You had no choices, and you couldn’t say no to your families. Especially your mother. You were a single child, so it was her dream to see your wedding, so your father wanted.

The next months, you were busy with the preps. Head in the clouds, you were the most nervous. Actually, Jongdae was so relaxed. You wondered how he was doing so well while you couldn’t help but thinking that you were getting married to your best friend and someone that you really never saw as a man. Not that Jongdae was ugly, but it was so natural for you to be best friends. You received a lot of mails, and letters from your colleagues, friends…and the one that you waited the most : your ex. Jongdae posted all the wedding invitations so you were the one dealing with the answers.

« What did he say ? » asked Jongdae. You were in the living room, you at the table with your computer, and the received letters, him on the floor, with his own computer. « He’ll go » you answered as you turned the screen at him. Jongdae looked closer and smiled. « Eeh…So he has some balls ». You hit him. « Cut it out » you said. « Hey, it’s not me who said that you’re married to your bestfriend ! ». You looked at the sky, sighing deeply. You apologised a lot to Jongdae, because you really felt bad about involving him. Not once he showed you any signs of annoyance or anger. That’s what you liked about Jongdae. He was so easy-going but such a cruel man when he was angry. Mostly, he was honest and harsh when he was angry. He could have said so much horrible things to you, but he didn’t.

You fixed the ceremony for the next month, in May. You had to buy your wedding dress, and the rings. Chen suggested to buy it himself, which you were against because you wanted to pay half of the price. But he insisted. Three weeks before the wedding, you went with your mother to do shopping. Your dad and her wanted to offer you your dress. You tried to show some happiness, but in your head, you were so sorry, and guilty. All of your family member seemed so happy about your marriage, but if they knew that it was all lie, you didn’t want to imagine the rest.

You tried so many pretty dresses, and none of them really pleased you. Actually, you couldn’t accept the fact you’re getting married in few times. Finally, you found it. It was a simple dress. You hated princess-like dresses with so much layer that it would be impossible to walk with. There were some lacework in your back, and in your front. Your mother liked it too. As the tradition wants it, Jongdae had not the right to see the dress before the d-day.

Finally, you were getting married. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You could have been the prettiest bride of the day, you could have been the happiest, but you were not. You wanted to cry. What have you done ? You heard someone knocking at the door of the waiting room. « Come in » you said. Jongdae stepped in the room. He was absolutely handsome in is black suit. He even had white gloves and a white tie. Flowers in the pocket of his jacket, he couldn’t be more handsome. « Hey…How do you feel ? » he asked while he approached you. You turned back to face him and he stopped right away, like speechless. « Wow…You’re gorgeous » he said seriously. « Thanks… » You sighed once again. « I…I really want to cancel everything…Jongdae I’m…I feel like wanting to die ! » He suddenly cupped your face and looked straight at your eyes. « Y/N…Listen to me…I know that we are doing something awful…We are lying to everybody, but we have no choice…And we’ll go through this…together. You’re my best friend, I won’t let you okay ? » You nodded slowly, sniffing. « No crying ! You’re gonna ruin your makeup ! » You laughed a little. It was the first time after all of the stress that you bottled up since the preparations.

Your friends came to see you before the ceremony. They all squealed when they saw you. Some of them cried, others just laughed like « I can’t believe that you’re getting married before me ». You played once again. « Did you see Jongdae ? » « Yeah…He was… » « Fucking handsome » finished Jin Hee. You nodded and you girls all laughed. « We have to go…Fighting ! You’re beautiful » « Thank you girls ».

You felt like those ten minutes were like an eternity. You began to have sweaty hands, and every inch of your body couldn’t help but shake. « It’s okay…It’s okay… » you repeated to yourself. « Y/N ? » asked your father. « Yes dad ? ». Your father looked so solemn when he came to take you to the alley. You could see his emotion in his eyes. After all, he was going to entrust his only daughter to the man he thought you loved. « You are the prettiest bride I ever saw…More than your mother » he added. « Dad ! » « I’m joking, but…You know that you will always be my little princess ? » « I know ». Then, he proposed his arm to you, and you gently took it. Having your father near you helped you a little.

« And now, applaud for the bride : Y/N ! »

The doors opened and finally, you saw the sea of people waiting for you. At the other side, he saw Jongdae, waiting for you. For a second, you believed that you were the luckiest girl in the world. You fooled yourself. When you walked with your father to him, he offered you the sweetest smile that a man could have done for you. You smiled back at him as you both turned at the MC of your wedding. Junmyeon. You chose him because he was like the mother of your crew.

« I’m really honoured to be here, celebrating an important day for my two friends: Y/N and Jongdae. We were all surprised when they said to us that they were getting married. But now that I can see them, I am confident on the fact that they will be a lovely family. »

All the audience listened to him, and you both two. You whispered to your best friend. « How are you ? » « Nervous as hell » he answered, looking straight before him. You smiled a little « Same. »

« …And now, I shall ask the groom to make his vows ».

Jongdae cleared his throat and took the mic and his vows.

« I, Kim Jongdae, make the solemn promise to love you everyday, being here for you as well in the happiness and in the illness. I also promise to be the best husband that you can ask for, and being devoted to you for the rest of my life » he said with no hesitation.

Your heart skipped a beat and now it was your turn. Your hand was shaking, but Jongdae tightened it when he passed you the mic.

« I, Y/N, make the solemn promise to love you everyday, being here for you as well in the happiness and in the illness. I also promise to be the best wife that you can ask for, and being devoted to you for the rest of my life ».

Your voice had shaken when you read your vows. Junmyeon continued. « You can exchange the rings. »

Jongdae put your ring at your finger first, looking at you. You made the same. « Now, before closing this ceremony. If there be any among you who may imagine some impediments as to why they should not be married, Let them now speak out, or forever hold their tongue. »

You both anxiously looked at the audience. You finally spotted your ex. He seemed pale and silent. You felt a bit of satisfaction as no one talked.

« Now, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride »

Suddenly you looked at Jongdae in shock. You forgot about that kiss. You never kissed Jongdae before, neither he did to you. You could see in is eyes « Believe in me ». He cupped your face and slowly approach his face to yours. You closed your eyes nervously. You felt a gentle touch on your lips. He was kissing you the sweetest way he could. You never imagine to kiss your best friend one day, but you were pleasantly surprised. You liked it. And something told you that him too.

[ablack-reblogs]

Sherlock SSN 4 ‘Live’ Blog

Sherlock, Season 4

The Lying Detective, Episode 2

 ‘Live’ Blog

 I’ve only seen a couple of spoilers – nothing substantial – so I am going into this practically blind (which is how normal people go into these sorts of things). But I’m also really angry about John Watson, the tainted character I once adored so dearly. I hope this episode somehow redeems him – if such a thing is even possible after what’s been done.

 Ugh…

 Here it goes.

 “Start from the beginning.”

 “You are holding yourself to an unreasonable standard.”

 AND IN TWO MINUTES …

 This show is super….

I just cannot do the life thing.

 At least it is hallucinations and not the red-head gal.

 BUT JOHN, SHERLOCK IS GIVING YOU THE SPACE THAT YOU DEMANDED! HE TRIED AND YOU LEFT A LETTER YOU DAMN BASTARD! YOU CANNOT SERIOUSLY BE CONFUSED AND OR UPSET BY A CHOICE YOU MADE! YOU MADE THE CHOICE AND FOR BLOODY ONCE HE RESPECTED IT.

 Damn you, John. Who decided to make you such a git?

Maybe Mary was right – “You don’t exactly make it easy being all perfect.”

FUCKING WHY.

 Who is this knob? He looks like a bad knob. The sort of knob you avoid.

 Ew… Gross knob person is touching someone in a weird way. Ew.

 Never ask what’s the worst thing someone could do – you always end up dead.

 I don’t like this knob.

Is he doing button button where is the button – but it’s this weird as drug that this dude made that knobbington didn’t ask permission to use?

 The hey hey hello is this shit?

 That dude with the beard looks like a younger President Snow, did anyone notice?

 I love that this woman went back to her office and wrote down key words that she *could* remember.

 EW Knobhead went a bit Trumpy on his daughter, gross gross.

 FOR PROBLEMS, YOU CANNOT DRUG PEOPLE WHO WILL FORGET THEY CANNOT HELP YOU! You’re just a sociopath for sure.

 Does weirdo dad see the paper.

 Yes he does. It is weird as fuck the way he touched her and held her. I’m a parent, and there’s an a different mood and facial expression when you’re just being affectionate toward your child.

He is being uncomfortable and weird.

So very weird.

I don’t like him.

 Years ago – so this has been years. Okay.

 “I can’t remember.” The biggest challenge one can issue to Sherlock Holmes.

 “You can’t tell all that from a piece of paper.”

“Sure I can. I just did. I’m sure that was me.”

What a cock.

 WHY is he there with Sherl?

 Needle.

Needle… Means drugs.

Drugs means nope.

 I AM NOPING MY WAY THROUGH THIS EPISODE.

 “Don’t speak it reminds me of your existence.” Me. That is me pretty much anytime I’m writing.

 Sherlock being worried about someone being suicidal fills my heart.

Being suicidal myself, it just touches me in a way I cannot describe. All the time we think of Sherlock as being cold and detached, and I know he’s interested in her story – but he isn’t just doing it for the case wholly. She reminds him of John in a way – and that is special to him.

And seeing that on screen is so very special to me.

I’m definitely crying.

  Her chips look so good.

 SUCH A GENUINE LAUGH AND SMILE.

SHERLOCK IS SO ADORABLE AT HUMANING.

 THEY ARE MONITORING SHERLOCK OH MY LLAMA.

 “It’s always about Sherlock.”

I would feel be for you John, but I am admittedly very pissed off at you. I’ll feel bad when I am less angry..

 I sort of ship these two – Mycroft and her (her name which I can’t remember right now because SEX was just dropped randomly)

(Maybe it is a low key way of saying Mycroft and his cohort are engaging in physical recreations)

 “I’m not sweet, I’m just high.”

 HE IS WRITING MYCROFT LAWWWWWL

 Sharonford?

Sharon Fort?

 THEY ARE WALKING ARM IN AND ARM AND IT IS SO ADORABLE.

SHERLOCK AS A NORMAL EVERYDAY PERSON IS FANTASTIC.

 I am L O V I N G this humanizing of Sherlock. It was so desperately needed. It adds a missing layer of dimension. It can make him better at his deductions and detective work.

 He wants some of her chips.

 Oh, whoops, he wants her gun.

SHERLOCK HOLMES IS TRYING TO SAVE HER LIFE IN HIS DARK KNIGHT WAY OH GOD

I AM IN LOVE

I was always a bit in love with Sherlock, though.

 PTSD flashbacks My babe no…

Bae no bae no

 She’s gone?

WHY IS SHE GONE?

 Oh my baby sherl no.

No no no no no no no no no.

 Who?

ANYONE?

SERIAL KILLER?

 Please tell me this isn’t all a hallucination from taking too many drugs. I can’t handle it. I need my Sherlock to be in good condition. I want him to be FINE.

 SHERLOCK WHY ARE YOU SELF-DESTRUCTIVE get hugs.

Avoid drugs.

HUGS NOT DRUGS.

 My husband just asked if Sherlock is tearing up Privet Drive, someone help me smack him!

 MISSUS FUCKING HUDSON

 Sherlock is a madman full of so much… stuff

 OH MY FUCKING GOD HE SHOT IN OR AT MISSUS FUCKING HUDSON

 I would not be making that bastard a cuppa. Mrs. Hudson you need to hug him.

 “Oh so you can see them too?”

 Also, that line – “I’m not a civilian.”

 I love Mrs. Hudson.

 HE WAS IN THE FUCKING TRUNK!

That would be why she’s not a civilian.

 I’VE BORROWED THEM BEFORE!

MRS. HUDSON HOLDING A GUN AT SHERLOCK.

 These lot are bunch of beautiful wankers.

 Covington Smith – gross man.

 “THIS ONE IS FILTHY!” It’s a goddamn vase, Sherlock.

 I almost feel bad for John Watson… Sherlock hijacking John’s schedule like that… But he’s PREDICTABLE to Sherlock… Except that cheating on Mary bit. That’s bogus. Still bogus.

 Sherlock is burning up to still impress John Watson.

 “You’re a liar.”

SAYS THE LIAR>

SAY

THE

FUCKING

LIArrrr

 THEY EDITED BULL SHIT

  The last person you’d think of.

Molly Hooper.

But I don’t think you understand, Molly Hooper is more important to him that most people realize.

 “God, I don’t know anything anymore.”

I don’t either, John, and it’s mostly your fault.

 John would ask the one thing she wouldn’t be willing to do…

 Mary is his conscious, she is the reflection of John inside – and pbljsdlfka;ghaeljkfa;

 “I’m in your head, John, you’re disagreeing with yourself.”

 “But he’s our monster.”

 I am so sorry that this is just turning into a reposting of all my favorite quotes. Sometimes I just fail.

 Molly is such a great person. I haven’t spent enough of my life admiring her.

 Sherlock is so bad at hugs.

 “Yeah, ugh, he doesn’t really wear the hat.”

Is it because the deerstalker is just for the bedroom, John Watson? You’d know wouldn’t you? Maybe, I suppose, if that were canon.

 Hiding in plain sight is – in fact – the best place to hide.

“What are we doing here? What’s the point?”

“I needed the hug.”

 “It’s funny because it’s true.”

 Sherlock is a cheeky git.

He really did a hug, didn’t he?

 Culverton not Covington. My apologies.

 WHAT A BITCH

 John doesn’t write Sherlock’s blog, though, does he?

John has always had his own blog – or this a detail I’ve forgotten?

 How is Sherlock speaking so intelligently.

He’s not sane.

 THE KIDS WOULD LOVE THE HAT.

John secretly adores the hat.

 “How do you catch a serial killer?”

 “Maybe this isn’t a suitable subject for the kids?”

What a bastard this man is…

So inappropriate as a man – so fucking gross.

 He’s not even INTRIGUING the way Moriarty was.

Not RELATABLE like Irene Adler.

NOT EVEN INTELLIGENT THE WAY THAT APPLEGATE BLOKE WAS (I can’t remember his name either, so I should probably rewatch this series. Stress has addled my brain with incapability and lack of recollection).

  John is super unimpressed.

 THIS MAN IS SO FUCKING FUCKED.

 John Watson will see this man dead.

I kind of almost am willing to pretend he didn’t make a a terrible choice as a husband.

“The Game is on. Do you still miss me?”

 Bloody hell, what a rough bit of life John Watson has had.

 What a terrible man he must be behind the scenes to make such an impression of power.

 HH Holmes – Sweeney Todd.

He wants to be known for his crimes now – probably ready to die, or possibly ill enough to know he’s dying soon. Like the man in the first episode.

 “Are you really a medical doctor?”

 I can see how he’s gotten away with the bullshit. He almost convinced me that Sherlock is…

 “She liked me.”

The look on his face. It was one of those moments of confusion.

 There’s so much happening right now and I’m thinking this man has decided to take down Sherlock. Or maybe I’m hopeful about the whole scenario.

Perhaps Sherlock has gone right proper mad. It’s not inconceivable.

 Lestrade is such an unsung hero.

 MAGNUSSEN – that’s his name.

 “We all saw it coming but it was fun.”

Calling it as it is, eh?

 “Might even move him to my favorite room.”

 I was right to believe my Sherl.

 WHO IS THE REAL CRIMINAL

JOHN OR FUCKING SHERLOCK

DEAR GOD SOMEONE HELP ME UNDERSTAND

 I need a whisky.

 “Let him do what he wants. He’s entitled. I killed his wife.”

 FUCKING NO HE DID NOT JOHN WATSON I WILL FIND YOU AND KICK YOUR ARSE PROPER

 “Please no violence” sings the serial killer

 What a right fuckhead.

 “Nope, I’m just in to say good-bye.”

“I’m sure he’ll pull through…”

John is bidding farewell not to Sherlock’s life but to Sherlock himself.

 These conversations with Mycroft always end with “there’s a car downstairs.”

 John is so much smarter than he gets credit for and so much dumber than we realize, how is that possible? A living, breathing oxymoron?

 At least he admitted he’s creepy. I feel must better about that.

I don’t like the gloves.

That adds to the killer part.

 “It’s practically a meth lab.”

 The woman that showed up was real.

The paper is real.

THIS IS SUCH A SERIOUS CASE SOMEBODY HALLLP

 “Oh shut up you.”

 “It didn’t the last time.”

 “You’re lying.”

 “He really is lyin.”

 “Sherlock isn’t your only brother.”

 “My god.”

 Mrs. Hudson detests Mycroft only slightly more than Sherlock Holmes.

Although, probably not as much as John Watson.

 Where did Athena go?

 “You really are an idiot, but that’s okay because you’re a lovely doctor!” One of my faves for sure.

 I have to stop quoting these beautiful characters.

“He’s more emotion than that, isn’t he?”

LAST ONE.

 Mrs. Hudson is the fucking boss.

I am so happy to have more of her in this season.

I hate Moffat and I hate that John is a cheating husband trash person, but damn it if this doesn’t become my favorite season. SO SO much depth is being added to these people and I love it.

I am actual sobbing guys, help me, rip.

 “Get our of my house, you reptile.” She definitely hates Mycroft more than anyone.

Top Anti-Mycroft Lady – Mrs. Hudson.

 Murder Castle, but done right – what a gross prat.

 This man is disgusting.

 “I want you to kill me.”

NO BABY NO

NO BABY BABY NO SHERLOCK No

 THE CAR SHE IS LETTING DOCTOR WATSON TAKE THE CAR SOMEONE HALP ME I CANNOT GO FROM EXTREME SAD TO EXTREME EXCITE I CANNOT DO IT

 “Tell me how you feel.”

 Well, Mr. Knobbington, I am in love with John Watson and I wanted him to have this beautiful life with Mary and now I have ruined it and I can’t handle it. I want to die and I have my reasons but I don’t want to die because I love him.

I love him so very much.

And I won’t make him live without the only person he has left to make him smile.

 /end_fanfiction_fantasty_of_johnlock

 I was worried I couldn’t ship Johnlock after this bloody season but I’m shiping it.

I shouldn’t be shipping it, really, because this show is so much more than romance – but romance is a part of life isn’t it? I don’t need them to be intimate – I don’t need them to homosexually active. I just want them to be Homoromantic – doing domestic things and being open about their prioritization of one another – and Rosie now – and being average.

 Getting impatient – I think you’ve just lost your strange ass necro-obsessive boner.

 GODDAMN IT PLEASE NO.

PLEASE VERY NO

WHAT IF THE THING HAPPENS

WHAT IF THE DEATH HAPPENS FOR REAL

I CANNOT DEAL WITH A PROPER SHERLOCKIA NDEATH

 Someone help I’m have a bit of an attack

I am shaky

 John watching that video is counterproductive.

I am so fucking dead

I am sooooo fucking dead

Kill him john

Kill him john

 There were more than three

He’s got a recording device in his arse?

 OH FUCKS SAKE IT IS ON THE CANE

 Gods do I love this man.

 Someone needs to give Lestrade a very long vacation WITH PAY and free pastries.

“I can break America?”

What the hell does that even mean?

Are we that bad?

 Who am I kidding, we are that bad.

 I wonder if the daughter hired a woman to help frame her father?

 “Make him wear the hat.”

Definitely a sexual fetish thing – it has to be – because I’m fucked up that way.

 That is true, the recordings could be inadmissible.

But they could also keep it as proof after he confessed – a judge could approve, after all.

 THAT SOUND IS BACK

OH MY LLAMA

 Oh, she’s dead.

Oh I bet she isn’t dead.

John looks a bit jealous.

 “I’m going to make a deduction.”

 “Happy birthday.”

“Never knew when you’re birthday.”

“Now you know.”

“You bloody moron.”

 Romantic entanglement would … COMPLETE YOU AS A HUMAN BEING

 ENGTANGLE YOURSELF WITH JOHN

 “She taught me to be the man she always thought me to be.”

Irene would not make Sherlock a better man – just more of the man he already is.

 The affair was real and I was ready to forgive him – and it’s gross that… It’s gross…

 “I never could be. That’s the point.”

He never could be the man that did more because of Mary.

 I think Sherlock should hug John right now.

 THEY ARE HUGGING

THEY ARE HUGGING AND IS THE EPITOME OF PROPER LOVE BETWEEN TWO MEN PLATONIC OR OTHERWISE IT IS BEAUTIFUL I HAVE WAITED FOUR GODDAMN SEASONS FOR THIS SMALL BIT OF AFFECTION I LOVE IT

 Sherlock has his weaknesses.

“I have this terrible thought from time to time… That we all might just be human.”

“Even you?”

“No, John…. Even you…”

 IT IS A FETISH.

 SHERLOCK CARES SO FUCKING MUCH JOHN IS THE MACHIEN AND SHERLOCK IS THE HUMAN AND ALL IS RIGHT IN THE WORLD

I FUCKING I am dead

I am so permanently dead because of this hsow

  AND THERE IS MORE

How the fuck can I even after this

  FUCKING I WAS RIHT YES YES YES YES YES YES I WAS SO FUCKIGN RIGHT ABOUT THESE TWO

I WA SO JS;ldkfaslkdfj;alghj;a wfj ;kasdjfa;ls

Do you guys even know that I called this like two pages htree pages back

Oh god this is elevent pages

So it was like eight pages ago

  LADY ALICIA

Oh gods you don’t know this

But ALICIA IS MY NAME

 That is interesting in an odd sort of way

 Myrcroft is such a fuck

 My husband is deducing the therapist is the girl that showed.

 John cannot escape the crazies.

 JOHN OH GOD YOU ARE NOT SAFE

 THIS SHOW BEEN FUCKING ME UP FOR YEARS

HALF OF THOSE YEARS ARE SPENT JUST WAITING

 SHERLOCK’S SECRET BROTHER IS A SECRET SISTER

HOLY FUCKIGN FUCKING FUCKING

 “You’re making such a funny face. I think I’ll put ah ole in it.”

 JOHN KSdjf;alkshgliu

 I can’t be alive anymore.

But I have to be alive to see the end.

 How many episodes this season?

MORE THAN THREE?

TELL ME MORE THAN THREE?!

 Fucking hell.

Bloody fucking hell.

 Someone help me.

I am so dead.

 I am so fucking dead.

Help.

Help.

           Help.

  x.x

x.x

x.x

x.x

x.x

x.x

 help.