#yeah maybe not the best person to have discussions with about murder

[nerdie-faerie]

Caroline: isn't harming animals the first step in becoming a serial killer

Stefan, a notorious ripper vampire: well....

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

I have request for Spencer Reid x Plus size fem!reader. Maybe her and Spencer are good friends and she gets stood up on a date or her date leaves after seeing her and Spencer swoops in and love confession.

p.s I love you work. <3

༉‧₊˚. 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

― pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

― summary: admitting that you got stood up on a date would be like admitting defeat, too bad spencer's too good of a best friend to let you go through this alone, even if he was the last person you wanted to see.

― warnings: best friends to lovers, getting stood up on dates, a red flag named chris (sorry to all the chris' out there), mutual pining, requited love, love confessions, and implied dates!

― wc: 1457

⋆ a/n: OH, MY GOODNESS IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE WRITTEN AN ACTUAL ONESHOT. i got hit with a random bout of inspiration out of nowhere and i have a bunch of fanfics that already have banners made but they're unwritten and rotting in my drafts so i'm trying to clean them out first. thank you for this and i hope you enjoy some best friend!spencer reid!!

masterlist | AO3

Leave it up to you to be stood up on a date you didn’t even want to go on.

You weren't even looking for anything serious with someone, you just needed a distraction, you needed anything that would help you move on from him. It wasn’t Spencer’s fault that you were in love with him – well, it actually kind of is – but that’s beside the point.

There was no way you could continue to sit there and allow yourself to wallow in self-pity over the fact that your feelings for your longtime best friend weren’t reciprocated. You were a grown woman for God’s sakes! And as a grown woman, it was up to you to make grown up decisions. One phone call to Derek was all it took for you to get hooked up with some dude that he knew.

“He’s a good guy,” He said.

Yeah, right. Good guy your ass.

Not only did you look stupid, but you were left stranded in a sports bar surrounded by a bunch of strangers – no, scratch that! Almost all of the patrons in this bar tonight were men, it was football season. You were practically asking to get murdered! What kind of FBI agent would you be if you allowed yourself to be murdered over the fact that some guy’s team lost.

With a sigh, you gazed at your chat between Chris and you. You had sent him a text thirty minutes ago asking where he was when he was ten minutes late, but even that message had been left unread.

The only reason why you were still here was because you were oh so painfully embarrassed, and you hoped that others around you couldn’t tell that there was supposed to be a second person joining you at your very barren booth that you had somehow managed to score.

Now that you think about it, how in the hell had you allowed this man to talk you into going to a sports bar instead of oh, I don’t know, a restraunt with a calm, and comfortable atmosphere?

Maybe it was the fact that the only person’s face you could see in your mind as you discussed where you were going to go together was Spencer’s. As ashamed as you were to admit, you mostly imagined a disappointed look on his face when he realized you were going out with someone else, but even you knew that was damn near impossible.

It wasn’t your failed date that was the shit show – even though it is a close second – it was you that was the main attraction. How could you have allowed yourself to be this childish? You weren’t in high school anymore, and you hadn’t been in some years, but old habits die hard, you guess?

It didn’t have to be common knowledge to tell that your romantic life when you were in school was very, very sad. You often found yourself alone on most weekends, ample amount of time to study right under your fingertips. You figured that when you had gotten older things would have gotten better but… nope.

You didn’t know who to call.

Would you call Derek and blame him? No, he couldn’t have known, but you could totally get him to beat Chris’ ass. The thought of your favorite and very muscular chocolate thunder roughing the piece of shit up helped to easy your nerves, badly enough. There was just one person you couldn’t bring yourself to call, and that was Spencer.

Calling Spencer meant that you were giving up, that you were waving the white flag, that you were still in love with him and no number of blind dates, good or bad, could change that.

You bit the inside of your cheek in thought, at least you had dressed up in something comfortable.

“Can I sit here?” You heard someone ask over the bustling noise of the bar.

“Honestly, you can just have the thi–” You spoke without looking up, but when you did, your words died in your throat.

There Spencer stood in his full glory; tall, lanky, nerdy, and extremely uncomfortable, but nonetheless, he slid into the sticky seat across from you with an awkward smile.

“Spence? What are you doing here?” You asked in shock, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I uh- Morgan called me. He said that Chris told him to tell you something came up, but I uh- I figured that wasn’t true.” He explained sympathetically. You scoffed, your body slouching along with the noise. “Yeah, no shit.” Your words were bitter and harsh, which caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Fuck, Spence. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to talk to you like that, I’m just… frustrated.”

He reached out his hand, albeit reluctantly seeing as though the table was in the same state as the seat, maybe even a bit worse. You looked down at it then at him before relenting, your full hand slipping into his lithe one perfectly, as if it belonged there.

The fact that this felt so right made your stomach twist sickeningly, fingerings twitching in desperation to pull away. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to stay. You did not have the mental compacity to dig yourself out of another hole.

“No, it’s okay. I understand.” He reassured, his thumb caressing the back of your knuckles gently. “I came as soon as he called,” He then looked around, “Especially after he told me where you were.” You laughed a bit at his concern, your body feeling lighter as it finally straightened.

A soft grin graced your features.

“Thank you, Spence. Really. I know how uncomfortable these kinds of places make you. I just- I really thought tonight was going to go differently.” I thought that things between us were going to go differently, is what you really meant.

“I’m sorry, I know you liked him.”

You grimaced at the word ‘liked.’

“I think ‘liked’ would be the last word I would use to describe how I feel for Chris.”

It was his turn for his eyebrows to furrow. “What do you mean.”

You huffed. “What I meant was that I didn’t even want to go on this stupid fucking date anyways, but I had too… I had too…” You allowed your words to trail off when you had caught yourself about to admit something you had fought years to keep under wraps.

“You had to what?”

Goddamn him and his never-ending curiosity.

“Just leave it alone, please?” You pleaded. You looked up at him from beneath your eyelashes, your gaze soft and vulnerable. “Okay.”

A silence – what was an equivalent to silence – settled over the both of you. The air was thick with unspoken words and feelings, an invisible line was drawn that the two of you were too scared to cross.

“I would’ve never stood you up, you know.” Spencer piped up quietly, his grip that had gone limp in yours tightening. “What?” Your breath hitched. “And I would’ve taken you to someplace nicer than this.” His voice was shaky and forceful, as if he was forcing himself speak in fear that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t say anything at all.

“What are you saying?” You were breathless, the butterflies that fluttered around in your gut making you nauseous. Hope bloomed at a dangerous rate in your chest.

“What I’m saying is that if I were to take you out on a date, it would be a lot better than this.” He had finally gotten the courage to raise his gaze instead of focusing on where your hands were interlaced. “I would take you anywhere you wanted to go, then I would try my best to make it memorable for you because I…” He gulped. “Because I love you.”

Your ears were ringing. There was sweat beginning to form on your hairline.

“You’re being serious?” The question sounded more like a plea. “Because if you’re saying this because you feel bad, I-” He cut you off. “I don’t feel bad.” He lowered his head to where yours was in an attempt to connect your gazes deeper.

“I really do love you. I- I have for a long time.” Spencer confessed.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” You said through a wobbly smile. His smile matched yours. You could feel the fact that both of your hands were extremely clammy with nerves, but none of you could find it within yourself to care.

“Can I cash in that date now?”

“Now?” He asked incredulously, lifting his free arm to check the time on his wrist. “It’s pretty late.”

You gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m pretty sure we can figure that out.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter

[sailor-aviator]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Four

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Four

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Language, talk of courting and mating, FBI, mentions of murder. Think that’s it.

Word Count: 3.87k

A/N: Here is Chapter Four! A whole lot of setting up what's to come, I think, but hopefully y'all still like it! If you're feeling kind/generous, please consider buying me a ko-fi! Also, if you DO NOT fill out the form below (Tag List) then you will not be tagged! I will be referring to that Google form from now on! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

“Are you still feeling alright, honey?” Susan asked you, checking you over. You gave her a small smile as she gave you a once over. Her green scrubs contrasted against her blonde hair, and the wrinkles around her eyes were more pronounced as she frowned at you worriedly. “You’re still taking it easy, right? Remember what Dr. Carson said when he checked you out the other day.”

“I’m fine, Susan. I promise,” you reassured the older nurse. She studied you for a second longer before turning to fix her coffee.

“You know, it’s a real shame about that Morris girl,” she continued. “She was always such a sweet girl. Wasn’t she in your class, Bobby?”

“No, she was a year ahead with Reuben, Nat, and Jake,” he muttered through a mouthful of Cheerios.

“That’s right,” she nodded.

Bob swallowed his mouthful and peered up at his mother. “Are you going to tell us what’s been going on?”

“You know,” she sighed exasperatedly, “I could have sworn I had told you. Or at least I would have if you bothered to answer your phone every once in a while.”

“You could tell me now?” Bob said sarcastically. Susan glared over at him.

“Tone, mister,” she warned before letting out another sigh and leaning against the kitchen counter. “I suppose it’s been a little over two months now since they found the first body. Everyone thought it was just an accident since it looked like a drowning. But then a couple of weeks later another body washed up, and then another one a couple weeks after that. They were all young women about the same age, and they all appeared to have drowned. Maverick was worried that there was a serial killer on the loose, so he called in a favor to Tom. You remember Tom, don’t you, sweetie?”

“Yeah, I remember Mr. Kazansky, Mom,” Bob nodded. “He was only the my baseball coach for most of middle school and high school.”

“Such a sweet man,” Susan nodded with a small smile towards you. “We were all sad to see him leave, but when the FBI offers you a job, what person in their right mind says no?”

“So he and that other guy are here because of this serial killer no one told me about?” Bob asked her, eyebrow raised.

Susan scowled at him, but let out a sigh. “Tom and his partner, Agent Simpson, got here about two weeks ago when the last body was found. I was talking to Tom the other day, actually, and he told me that there were signs of a struggle, which is why they got called in.”

“Should he be telling you that?” Bob frowned. She shrugged, sipping from her coffee mug.

“I think they’re holding a press conference today to discuss everything. He wouldn’t have told me if they weren’t already planning on telling everyone, I’m sure.”

“A serial killer,” you hummed, frowning. “That’s really scary, actually.”

“It is,” she agreed, eyeing you. “Which is why I want you to promise me that you won’t go off on your own at night, alright? You should be fine during the day time, especially with the summer crowds, but I want you to make sure you have somebody with you after the sun goes down.”

“I will, Susan,” you smiled.

Bob peered over at you from over his own coffee mug. “I promised Dad that I’d take the boat out with him today. I don’t suppose you wanted to tag along?”

“No,” you told him, shaking your head. “Nat actually texted me last night and asked me if I wanted to go and hang out at the boardwalk today, and I told her that I did. You’ll be okay without me, yeah?”

“‘Course,” he snorted, moving to take his dishes to the sink. “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve ditched me for other friends.”

“If you’re talking about that time in sophomore year when I went with Abby and Rachel to the football game after you insisted that you would be a fourth wheel even though we all told you that you wouldn’t be, then this is not the same situation at all.”

“I beg to differ,” he laughed, heading for the back door.

“You can beg all you want, but it’s the truth,” you giggled. “Oh, wait!”

You got up from your own chair, moving to follow him.

“I think I left my bag on the boat last night,” you told him. “I’m going to grab it before I head out.”

The two of you walked down the stone path until you reached the small strip of sand that led out onto the dock.

“You know I’m not ditching you, right?” You asked him, suddenly worried that your best friend really did think you were trying to leave him behind. Bob snorted and looked over at you with a quirk of his brow.

“Of course I don’t,” he said, making a beeline for the boat that bobbed up and down with the waves. “I don’t expect you to tag along with me everywhere. I’m actually really happy that you and the gang are getting along so well.”

“Okay,” you trailed off. “Good. Because I really like hanging out with them.”

Bob chuckled as he stepped onto the boat, turning to face you. “I know. Stay right there and I’ll grab your bag, yeah?”

You nodded, turning to watch the waves as he disappeared towards the back of the boat. You glanced down when a shine of light danced in the corner of your eye. Sitting on the wood of the dock was a collection of more shells and pearls, and you immediately crouched down to take a better look at them. A couple of sand dollars were added into the mix this time and even more pearls of various shapes, sizes, and colors were mixed in with the lot. You picked each one up gently, inspecting them. Your favorite was the beautiful black pearl that rested in the center of the grouping. The oily colors on its surface danced as you inspected it, and you felt your skin prickle in delight.

Your gaze shifted to the breathtaking conch shell that rested near the edge, and you gingerly lifted it up to get a better look at it. It truly was a marvelous sight. One of the best specimens you had ever had the privilege of seeing.

“How much crap do you carry in this thing?”

You whirled around to see Bob grimacing as he made his way towards you with your simple hobo bag.

“I carry just what I need in it,” you replied to him, reaching an arm out to take the bag.

“What are you doing crouched over here?” Bob asked you, brow furrowing as he handed it off to you. He stopped short when he saw the collection of ocean treasures at your feet. He inspected them before moving his eyes up to meet yours.

“Look at these!” You grinned, gesturing down at them. “These are more spectacular than the last bunch! Have you ever seen such amazing specimens? And these pearls!”

“Yeah,” Bob said uneasily, eyes shifting to look out at the water. “They’re pretty great.”

You stood up suddenly, turning to fix him with a small glare.

“What is up with you?” You demanded, hands on your hips. “You love things like this! You’re the one person I know who gets more excited about this shit than I do, and you’re over here looking like someone just told you they were planning on kidnapping me. You did the same thing yesterday!”

Bob’s eyes widened at your outburst before melting into a sheepish expression as he looked away. He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck before letting out a sigh, looking back at you with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he sighed. “The shells are great, really. I guess I just have a lot on my mind with the murders and all that.”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, replacing the annoyance. Your hands moved to pull him into a hug, one he returned.

“Nothing is going to happen to me, okay?” You told him, squeezing him tight. “I’ll be extra careful to not be by myself at night, so you don’t have to worry about me, yeah?”

Bob didn’t say anything for a moment. He pulled back to look at you, a fond smile on his face as he regarded you.

“I’m always going to worry about you, you know,” he smirked, something serious behind his eyes despite the teasing tone he used. “You’re like the little sister I never had.”

“Bob,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m literally three months older than you.”

He grinned at that.

“Semantics.”

The street was busy as people walked back and forth along the boardwalk, taking in the different rides and stalls as the excitement for summer festival began to grow. Several decorations littered the pathways, all of various sea creatures and more than a few mermaids. You watched the different families, friends, and couples run around to the different events, and you let out a sigh as you checked your phone once again.

Sorry, Skip! Mom needed help with some things at the shop so I’m running late. Give me half an hour!

That had been thirty-five minutes ago, and you hadn’t heard anything. Sighing, you wiped the sweat from your brow, deciding to take a break from the overwhelming heat. You spotted a familiar, little shop and began walking towards it.

The bell above the door rang out as you stepped inside, letting out a breath of relief as the cool air washed over you. The shop hadn’t changed much in the days since you had last been in. There were new novelty items scattered about, but for the most part, Mrs. Cambroni’s shop was still quaint and cheesy.

The old woman appeared from the backroom, giving you a warm smile as she gave you a once over. Her eyes landed on your neck, an eyebrow quirking as she took in the raised skin that still shone in the light.

“My, my, dear,” she hummed, leaning against the counter. “What happened there?”

“Oh this?” You asked, resting your hand over the mark. You suppressed a shiver as a oddly pleasant feeling washed over you. “I had a bit of an accident the other day. I fell of a boat and washed up on shore.”

“Oh, how terrible!”

“Yeah, but I’m okay!” You chirped. “The doctor checked me out and said I was fine, just a little bruised. Said I was really lucky that nothing worse happened.”

“I’m sure you were,” she murmured, eyes still locked on your neck.

“But I guess I must have hit my neck pretty good on some rocks because the bump hasn’t gone away and the algae practically looks like it’s a part of my skin now,” you joked. Mrs. Cambroni blinked at you.

“The…algae?” She asked. You nodded, and she threw her head back in a fit of laughter. You stared at her in confusion until she calmed down, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry, dear. I don’t mean to laugh,” she said through bouts of giggles. “What brings you by my little shop?”

“Oh!” You cried, moving closer to the counter. “Nothing really, I was just waiting for a friend, but she’s running late. So, I thought I’d pop back in and say hi after I got dragged out of here the other day.”

Mrs. Cambroni gave another hum, a knowing look on her face. She took a sip from the cup of tea she held in her hands.

“Have you found any interesting seashells along the beach since I last saw you?”

“Actually, yes!” You smiled, digging through your bag to pull out the collection you were beginning to compile. “I found these over the last couple of days. It’s strange though, none of these were on the beach. I found a pile of them on our boat and then another pile on the dock this morning. My friend said it must have been the current-”

Mrs. Cambroni’s eyes widened as she coughed up her tea, nearly choking on it as she fought to regain control over her breathing. You reached out a hand to soothe her, and she gave you a grateful smile.

“The current, you say?” She said, barely hiding her amusement. You nodded self consciously, and the old woman shook her head with a chuckle.

“Seems to me like you’ve caught the eye of a sea person, my dear.”

Now it was your turn for your eyes to widen. “What?”

“I’m surprised no one’s told you yet,” she mused, setting her cup down and examining the shells and pearls. “It’s part of the courting rituals for their kind, after all. Just like that intention bite on your neck.”

Your blood ran cold, recalling how your first reaction to the raised skin was that it looked like a bite mark.

“But it’s not-”

“Oh, but it is, dear child,” she smiled, no hint of malice to it, just understanding. “I’m not sure why no one is telling you the truth. Perhaps it’s because you aren’t a local, and they don’t know if you can be fully trusted yet. Or perhaps it’s because you were chosen in a moment of frenzy. Choice is such an important piece of the courting ritual, after all.”

“Is that why you’re telling me all of this?” You asked her, brow quirked. “Because you think I should have a choice?”

“Precisely. How can you make an informed decision without all of the pieces?”

“Alright, then,” You started, deciding to amuse the woman before you, “what is it you can tell me?”

“What is it you want to know?”

“Tell me more about the courting rituals. What are they? What does it entail?”

“Well,” she smiled, “that certainly is an interesting first question. It’s simple really. It starts with the bite mark on your neck. What you have right now is called an intention bite. This bite is to let other sea people know that you have been marked as the intended mate for someone. As long as that bite remains on your neck, every sea person who lays eyes on it will know that you are spoken for. If that wasn’t enough of a hint, it changes your scent as well.”

“Are you saying that I smell different?”

“Oh, yes,” she nodded. “But not in an unpleasant way, dear. And as long as that’s the only bite mark that remains on your neck, it’ll fade after a few months along with it. The intention mark is only meant to be a placeholder for the permanent mark.”

“And what is that?” You asked her. Mrs. Cambroni turned her serious gaze to your face.

“That would be the mating mark.”

“And what does that one do?” You murmured, voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure why you were entertaining this conversation, to be honest. Maybe it was your longstanding fascination with mermaids that kept you rooted there, listening intently. Or maybe it was because a part of you, one that you were trying your best not to acknowledge in that moment, believed her.

Before Mrs. Cambroni could respond, the bell above the door chimed again, and you both turned to see Nat red faced and out of breath as she looked at you.

“There you are!” She smiled, relaxing as she let out a sigh of relief. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Sorry!” You exclaimed, gathering your seashells and giving Mrs. Cambroni an apologetic smile. “I was getting really hot and I thought I’d stop in here for a few minutes.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Nat said, watching the older woman with a suspicious frown. “I lost track of the time after I texted you.”

You waved to the shop owner as you followed Nat out the door, the sun bathing you in its warm rays. You peered over at your friend, a mischievous smirk on your face as your eyes lowered to her neck.

“Wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that huge hickey on your neck, right?”

Nat’s hand flew up to her neck, cheeks flushing as she tried to splutter out an excuse.

“So,” you chirped as your friend continued to recover her speech. “Which of the boys is it?”

“What makes you so sure it was one of them?” She muttered, the red on her cheeks growing more pronounced.

You ignored her. “My money is on Javy.”

“How did you know?” She shrieked, earning a couple of stares from passersby. You laughed at her expression.

“I didn’t until just now.”

Nat let out a long groan, hiding her face in her hands. You rested a hand on her shoulder to try and comfort her.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said. “I think the two of you are really cute, and I don’t think the others have figured it out yet. I just see the way you two look at each other when you think no one else is. I wish someone would look at me like that.”

Natasha peeked out from behind her fingers, an oddly thoughtful look on her face as she studied you. Before you could ask, she was straightening up, a smile replacing her embarrassment.

“Do you think you could hold off on saying anything?” She asked you. You nodded, holding out your pinky to her. She wrapped her own around it, and the two of you shook on it.

“Scout’s honor, Nat!”

“Good!” She giggled, peering around the boardwalk. “What do you want to hit first?”

After Nat convinced you to take a ride on the tilt-o-whirl, you were sure you’d never walk straight again. You groaned as you fought to stay upright, nearly crashing into a man as you passed him. Your shoulder bumped his, and you turned around to look at him.

“I am so sorry!” You cried, hands reaching out to steady him, but stopping when you noticed that he was just fine. And staring at you. You gave him a sheepish smile, but the look on his face remained impassive. If the world wasn’t still spinning around you, you might have said that the green in his eyes glowed in the summer light. Natasha laughed beside you, throwing out another apology to the man as she dragged you off.

“Never again, Nat,” you said, suddenly feeling nauseous.

“I’m surprised you managed to make it without hurling!” She cackled, leaning you against the wood railing so you could catch your breath.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” you muttered, leaning over the side.

“Natasha!”

The both of you turned to see the weathered face of the FBI agent and his partner strolling up to you.

“Oh! Hey, Mr. Kazansky!” She called out with a wave. You turned to face them just as they stopped in front of you.

“C’mon now, Nat. It’s Tom, you know that,” the older man chuckled, eyes moving to you. “And who is this?”

“Y/n,” you introduced yourself, reaching out a hand to shake his. “But everyone just calls me Skipper these days.”

“Ah! You must be the young lady Susan was telling me about the other day,” Tom smiled. “It’s good to finally put a face to a name. This is my partner, Agent Beau Simpson.”

“A pleasure,” the other man said as he shook both of your hands.

“So are you two enjoying the festival so far?” Tom asked, smile still on his face. “This small town isn’t too boring for you, is it, Skipper?”

“Not at all!” You assured him, shaking your head. “I think it’s quite a charming little place! And everyone has been so nice since I got here.”

“That’s good to hear,” he chuckled, eyes falling to your neck. “Where’s the lucky boy?”

You gave him a confused look, and Nat cleared her throat, stepping up.

“It’s so embarrassing,” she started, giving Tom a pointed look. “Javy and I have been seeing each other on the sly for a while now, and I didn’t even think he left a mark. I’ll have to tell him to be more careful next time.”

Tom glanced between the two of you, understanding dawning on his face. He gave another smile.

“Young love is such a wonderful thing, don’t you agree Beau?” He asked his partner, who just smiled in agreement. “Don’t keep it a secret for too long, Nat.”

“Of course,” she smiled.

“You two are being careful, aren’t you?” Asked Agent Simpson. Nat’s face could have been mistaken for a tomato from how hard she was blushing. Agent Simpson seemed to have realized what he said and a blush of his own crept onto his face.

“With the murders, I mean,” he explained quickly. Tom let out a chuckle as Nat cleared her throat. “We just got done giving a press conference. No curfew yet, but we’re advising young ladies to not be out at night on their own until we can find whoever is doing this.”

“Oh, of course!” You said, nodding your head in understanding. “We’re being careful! It’s such a shame what happened.”

“You two were there, weren’t you?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, we were,” you trailed off, feeling the nausea return at the memory of the girl’s body as it lay in the sand. You suppressed a shudder. “It was awful.”

“It was,” Beau agreed, giving you a sympathetic smile. “Which is why we don’t want to see anything happen to anyone else.”

“You don’t have to worry about us,” Nat said, a determined smile on her face as she looked at the two older men. Tom chuckled, eyes moving from her to you, still studying the mark on your neck.

“No,” he said finally. “I don’t suppose we will.”

You couldn’t help but think back to your conversation with Mrs. Cambroni.

As long as that bite remains on your neck, every sea person who lays eyes on it will know that you are spoken for.

“Well,” Tom started, eyes looking over your shoulder now, “you two ladies have fun! We won’t keep you any longer.”

He made to move, and Agent Simpson made to follow after him. The dark haired man stopped just after he passed you.

“Oh,” he said, “And don’t hesitate to let us know if you see anything suspicious, yeah?”

“We will!” Nat called after him as she started dragging you in the opposite direction. The whole exchange felt weird to you. Why had Tom asked Nat about who the lucky man was when he was looking at your neck? Why did he keep starting at it at all? What had he meant by not having to worry?

You took a deep breath, deciding that you were overthinking the matter and that Mrs. Cambroni’s stories had just gotten in your head. But even as you had made your mind up to ignore your questions, you couldn’t help but feel a pulse come from the base of your neck as if it were begging you to keep questioning.

Tag List: @jakeseresinlover @haley-hotchner @queerqueenlynn @dempy @fanficfandomlove @aworldwideapart @stoptaking-the-good-names @maximus890 @sky2nd @devil-angel-winchester @hopip99 @hookslove1592 @lemmons1998 @yuckosworld @uniquedreamlandcheesecake @imamomof8 @pietrothemovie @kmc1989 @mayhemmanaged @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @deliriousfangirl61 @hangmandruigandmav @na-ta-sh-aa @witchybabel @keyrani @i-wanna-be-your-muse @buckysteveloki-me @clancycucumber230 @dreamlandcreations @emotionallysalty @fandom-life-12 @a-girl-who-loves-disney @nouis-bum @topherwrites @squeaky-bumblbee22 @crybaby-21 @goldenseresinretriever @bobgasm @linkpk88 @number-0-iz @xl-pr @stillreadingfantasy

[aeide-thea]

thinking abt like. how hostile this website makes us to one another, and to good-faith discussion—

someone i follow fact-checked a post and was like ‘actually the murdered relative in question was her great-uncle, not her father,’ which, fine, yeah, precision abt stuff like that is good and respectful!

but then in tags they were like ‘that’s a really weird claim to have made, OP, especially when everything else here was basically accurate???’ and i just thought to myself—isn’t the best-faith assumption here also the likeliest, namely that they simply misremembered?? why jump straight to characterizing the situation as a ‘weird claim,’ and implying something ambiguous-but-negative abt their motives and/or character?

and like. a while back i did basically the same thing myself: someone had posted a photograph of a gay family that cropped out their visibly disabled daughter, and i was like 🧐 and went up my ladder about it; and then later i saw they’d been like ‘i just saw the cropped version somewhere and thought it was sweet and wanted to share it, i didn’t know it wasn’t the original!’

and like. yeah, it’s good to do a little research on things before you post them, and maybe tineye would have turned up the original for them, but. their intent hadn’t been what i’d indignantly implied it might be; and i felt (and feel) bad about the tone i’d taken wrt their post, and abt having potentially directed third-party vitriol their way because of how i’d framed things—which was, frankly, the result of my failing to do enough research before posting, or at least to think through whether i had any actual evidence for what i was claiming?

anyway, i’m sure i still make unfair assumptions—we all do! but i do try to take a beat and make a little extra effort to think: is the most likely scenario here actually that this person is deliberately misrepresenting things? do they deserve my casting aspersions to that effect? or is it just that they don’t know what they don’t know, and they haven’t thought to double-check themself, and they’re human…

because the thing is, being kinder and being more intellectually rigorous actually go hand in hand here? it’s good not to ascribe motives to people that you have no active evidence of, both because reflexively doing that is a hostile approach to the world that makes you pricklier and less patient, and because it’s exactly the same sort of sloppy unsupported assertion we fact-checkers are supposed to stand against!

anyway. longer post than intended, but. some Food for Thought maybe. <3

[stealingyourbones]

Here's a cursed ship:

Danny Fenton, out of his parent's grasp, now as an adult, goes to explore rumours of some rotten ectoplasm somewhere in some place called Nanda Parbat.

There he meets the one person that came the closest ever to killing him. Her sword was already in his very human chest before he transformed on instinct, barely avoiding a very painful injury that could've threatened his core.

Naturally, what is a guy to do? Fall head over heels, and gift her with a newly purified pool of ectoplasm that can help heal injuries without the Rage and Madness. Maybe gift her a throne of starlight after he deals with her manipulative old bastard father.

Oh, she has a kid from a prior relationship? Well, if she's ok with it, he'll do his best to help her raise him.

The League shift from indiscriminate murder to more Assassin's Creed-like "maintaining Balance" ideals.

Naturally, this confuses the Bats. They come to investigate.

No one was expecting to see Talia al Ghul sitting on a very comfy-looking throne, with an unknown but clearly powerful guy sparring against a small Damian, while the kid looks like he's having the time of his life.

Of course, as soon as their presence is noted, he's at Talias side, holding the tiny kid in his arms as she delivers her speech.

Oh, he's King of the Infinite Realms? Yeah, but this is the Living Realm, so he's going to defer to his Queen.

Talia initially tried plotting to take the Crown from Danny, but Ember and Kitty (who I headcanon both having dated Danny at different points of his life) laugh as if she told them a joke, and Grandpa Clocky takes his new Granddaughter-in-law aside to show her how her betrayal and manipulation would bring about Dan, stopping that plan in it's tracks then and there.

Ellie floats into the room in the middle of their discussion, and to add further confusion for poor Brucie, scoops up Damian and loudly announces she's taking her half-brother out for ice cream (female clone, from a boy's DNA? Yeah, Talia's DNA was exactly what was needed to stabilise her permanently).

Bruce is in a crisis.

Jason is laughing his ass off, now that Danny took the rotten ectoplasm out and put in fresh ecto in it's place, and he can properly appreciate the situation, especially how Danny looks like he could be related to Bruce, so naturally Talia also has a type.

Tim is three seconds away from asking for his spleen back.

Cass is dangling from Danny's shoulders after, in classic Ghost customs, she tried to attack him as an introduction. She's fine being carried like a sac of flour, Jason does that with her, too.

Dick, Duke, Steph and Babs stayed behind to protect Gotham, but Babs is always watching and/or listening, and she's a horrible gossip.

It's also Jason that comes to the horrifying realization that, the reason why Danny is still with Talia, is because Ghost culture is weird enough to be normal for the League, he's a similar type of dumbass as Bruce, without the elaborate revenge plot, AND he's a simp for women who could kill him.

Essentially: Danny is the cute lovable dumbass, who's Into That when his Love Interest has the capacity to easily kill him or snap him in half, if it weren't for the Ghost thing. And Ghost instincts are the kind of feral that Damian vibes with, so Damian likes this random guy Talia found on their doorstep, who's so stupid and yet competent he comes back around to being attractive, and is Commited to his new family.

I have yet to hear a friendly stepdad(?) Danny prompt before and I am loving it

[steddieas-shegoes]

Nother idea: 8 years later, Tommy & Carol apologizing to Steve for their behavior. & for immediately abandoning him when they knew he needed them most.

But Steve has people now who have shown him love, family, true friendship. And while he forgives them its not the same. He doesn't trust them. He is thriving without them.

But Carol realizes that the reason it isn't the same is bc Steve genuinely believes that they don't mean their apology. So she & Tommy actually discuss it and find a way to clear up any misunderstanding & ensure he knows they mean their apology. It works, it takes time & effort but they are once again his friends.

MY LOVE!!! STEVE REALIZING HE'S LOVED AND DOESN'T NEED HIS SHITTY EX FRIENDS CREW STAND UP!!!! I had the opportunity to really give Steve his shining moment and yell at them, but I decided that Steve would just be kind of over it, like they aren't really worth yelling at. Steve didn't do all this personal growth just to let them back in so easily, but luckily he isn't the only one who changed. You know I had to involve Eddie, of course! - Mickala ❤️

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

It was too fucking early on a Saturday morning to be woken up by the buzzer of his apartment.

Whoever it was was lucky that Eddie had to go into work today or he would be committing murder at their door.

He glanced at the clock on the microwave, 10:47, okay, so not that early.

They’d had a late night, okay?

If he had a limp to show what they were up to, that was his business.

“You can leave the package in the box, I’ll grab it soon!” Steve said into the mic, hoping it was just a delivery.

“Steve? Is that you?”

He recognized the voice, though he wished he didn’t.

Eight years was a long time to go without talking to someone who used to be your best friend, but when you’d been best friends for so long, certain things couldn’t be forgotten.

“Tommy?”

“Uh yeah, man. I’m here with Carol. We actually were hoping to talk to you?”

He looked down at his almost naked body, only Eddie’s boxers covering him.

“Sure.”

He buzzed them in, not giving them any clue where he was so they would take their time getting to his door. He had to throw on clothes, brush his hair, and try to look like he hadn’t just been asleep.

He rushed to the bedroom, throwing on the first pair of jeans he saw and a t-shirt from the floor. He heard voices down the hall as he was heading to the bathroom, his hands shaking with nerves as he tried to rush to brush through his hair.

“It can’t be that Munson, though, right? Even Steve wasn’t a fan of him in school.”

Steve grimaced at Carol’s voice.

Technically, Eddie worked a half shift when he had to work Saturdays, which meant unless they were only stopping by for a few minutes, he would probably be home while they were still here.

Tommy had always hated Eddie. No one could really figure out why. Sure, a lot of people said nasty things about and to Eddie in high school, but no one else really put their hands on him the way Tommy did.

Eddie joked it must have been because he liked him, but Steve thought maybe he just had a lot of displaced anger.

At least that’s what he thought when he became a counselor and understood a lot of psychology behind why people did things.

Eddie laughed and said, “don’t overthink it, some people are just bullies.”

But Steve liked to think maybe Tommy was more complicated than that, liked to explain away his worst qualities so it made it easier to accept that he was once best friends with him.

Eddie laughed about that too, and said, “kids are stupid, and sometimes we find friends in people who make us feel better about ourselves, but you grew up.”

Steve shook his head, not wanting to think more about it.

He opened the front door, the ghosts of his past standing there, hardly aged, hardly any different at all.

“Come in, guys. Um. Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting anyone.”

They all awkwardly laughed as Tommy and Carol made their way inside.

The apartment was small, cheap rent kept them there so they could save up to buy a house outside of town in the next few years, maybe work on starting a family if they could.

They’d talked about it over the last couple of years, once Steve was settled in his job at the school, once Eddie got promoted to general manager at the shop, they’d save for a few years, have a decent down payment, start looking for a house with three or four bedrooms. Start looking into adopting. Maybe get a cat.

But to do that, their apartment was cozy, as Eddie liked to say. One bedroom, one bathroom, kitchen and living room area all one room, a tiny storage closet. They didn’t even have their own washer and dryer, which reminded Steve that he had to take their laundry downstairs and get it started soon.

Tommy and Carol looked around, but hid any emotion on their faces.

He gestured for them to have a seat on the couch, which was a hand-me-down from Wayne when they moved in. It was “too much” for his space when Eddie moved out.

They sat, though they didn’t look very comfortable.

Steve sat in the rocking chair Eddie bought, the first thing he bought for their “eventual home”, but didn’t rock as he took them in.

He originally didn’t see any proof of them aging, but now that he was looking closer, he could see Tommy’s already-receding hairline, Carol’s wrinkled by her eyes, both of them just a little softer in the face and stomach.

They looked incredibly human like this, like they weren’t some high school king and queen who only cared about how they look and what parties they could go to every weekend.

It helped Steve relax a bit.

“Not to be rude, but uh, how did you guys find me?” Steve asked, not sure he even really cared.

“We moved here to Chicago about six months ago, Tommy’s gonna run his dad’s office here starting next year, so he wanted to ease into it. I started job searching a few weeks ago for a teaching position and I noticed you worked at the school I interviewed at. We looked you up and decided we wanted to come talk,” Carol always was a bit of a rambler, always annoyed Steve when she started in on something that really didn’t matter much.

Carol nudged Tommy, who had been staring wide-eyed at Steve since he sat down.

He cleared his throat and nodded.

“We actually came here to make things right. We were best friends for years, and then one bad thing happened and we weren’t anymore. I know I fucked up with everything. We shouldn’t have treated Nancy like that, or you like that, and we’re hoping you could maybe accept our apology.”

Steve stared at them.

“We were kids. We did stupid shit. We’ve all grown. I mean, look at you! Your own apartment in the big city!”

As if he had been waiting for a cue, Eddie walked in the front door, his oil-covered coveralls already coming off. Steve made the rule after he came home one day to see oil stains on the bed sheets where Eddie had fallen asleep after working from open to close: coveralls come off as soon as he’s in the door and they go straight to the laundry room.

“Jesus, sweetheart, this is the last Saturday I cover in the shop. At least until I hire some competent mechanics. I think I did most of the work all morning. And after doing most of the work last night, I-”

“Eds! We have company!” Steve rushed out, his face bright red at what Eddie was implying.

It’s not that he really cared about what Tommy and Carol thought; Once they realized Eddie lived here, it wouldn’t be difficult to come to the conclusion that they shared a one bedroom apartment because they were together. He didn’t even care if Tommy and Carol were disgusted by him for it.

But he’d be damned if Eddie felt uncomfortable in his own home, especially if they started saying shit to him reminiscent of their high school days.

He watched Eddie turn around, recognize the people on the couch, and turn to Steve with a questioning look.

“Tommy, Carol, you remember Eddie,” Steve said, not breaking eye contact with Eddie.

They were having an entire conversation with their eyes, Steve begging Eddie to just go get cleaned up, Eddie begging Steve to explain what was going on.

Tommy’s eyes narrowed as he looked between them, Carol’s eyes stayed pointed at Eddie.

“Munson?”

“The one and only!” Eddie said, his voice pitching just a bit higher, naturally going to his over the top self to protect himself from whatever they would say.

Steve loved every version of Eddie: the performer on stage, the performer with friends, the soft version of himself that only Steve got to see, the protective version that would fight the world to make sure his loved ones were safe.

He was lucky to have every part of Eddie, even the parts that may not always be the best.

But his least favorite thing was seeing Eddie go into this mode, the one that kept him safe during school, when kids were mean, adults were mean, life was hard.

He didn’t want that for Eddie anymore.

“You guys…live together?” Tommy asked, looking back to Steve for confirmation.

Steve rolled his eyes. Tommy apparently didn’t gain any intelligence over the years.

“Yes. We’re together.”

From the look on Eddie’s face, he hadn’t expected Steve to say that.

That was fair; it took Steve nearly a year just to come out to anyone who wasn’t Robin, scared that somehow everyone would hate him, hate Eddie, hate them together.

But it went perfectly, and Steve rode the high a bit too much. He came out to his parents a few months after, and that went quite a lot less than perfectly.

He was lucky he didn’t have more head trauma from it, actually.

So he kept it quiet, didn’t come out to any new friends he met in college, even after one of them came out to him. Didn’t come out to coworkers while he worked at a cafe throughout college to pay the bills. Didn’t even come out to the bartender at their favorite bar despite the rainbow flag that was hidden behind the bar in silent support.

It was only recently that he started to feel comfortable being more open, and only in the city, only select areas where he knew they wouldn’t end up hurt.

Eddie was patient, maybe more than he deserved.

So saying it outright to the two people who suspected and bullied Eddie for being gay in high school, despite it not even being confirmed then, clearly threw Eddie for a loop.

“Oh, like…”

“Yes, exactly like that.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for any response that would give him permission to kick them out of his apartment, their apartment.

But he saw Carol nudge Tommy again, pasting a smile on her face. It wasn’t completely natural, but it also didn’t seem fake.

“That’s nice, Steve. Have you been together a while?”

“Since ‘86.”

“Wow! Since the quakes!”

Steve nodded.

“Steve, can you help me with something in the kitchen for a second?” Eddie asked, his voice unreadable.

Steve hated it, hated that all of a sudden he couldn’t get a grasp of what Eddie was feeling.

It had been so long since he’d experienced this.

And a small part of him blamed Tommy and Carol.

He got up, wordlessly following Eddie into the kitchen area that wasn’t even separated from the living room.

“Not that I don’t love that you’re comfortable telling them, but um. What’s. What’s happening currently?” Eddie whispered as he tried to appear busy, grabbing a glass from the cabinet to fill with water.

“They came to apologize to me. For high school.”

When he said it out loud, it sounded a bit ridiculous.

“And are you accepting it?”

“I don’t think so. I think they’re only doing it to help themselves feel better. I’m not interested in whatever game they’re playing.”

Eddie looked over Steve’s shoulder at the pair sitting on the couch.

“Need me to get rid of them? Just say so, sweetheart. I’ll kick them both to the curb.”

Steve leaned in and kissed him quickly on the lips, smiling as he pulled away.

“I got it, baby. Get cleaned up so I can hug you.”

“Just hug?”

Steve laughed as he walked back towards his spot.

“Or more!”

He focused back on Tommy and Carol, who were graciously pretending that they didn’t hear the conversation that happened less than 20 feet from them.

“So, we were wondering if you wanted to meet up for dinner, catch up? You could bring Eddie, of course!”

Of course, she said. Like they didn’t outwardly despise Eddie eight years ago. Like they were perfectly fine with him now, and fine with Steve, and fine with them.

“I think we’ll pass. Good luck to you guys in Chicago, though.”

He ignored the pang of guilt when he saw Carol’s face fall and Tommy’s eyes darted to where Eddie was closing the bedroom door and back to Steve.

“Oh. Um. Well, it would be our treat, if you’re worried about money.”

“I wasn’t.”

Tommy and Carol hadn’t expected to be shut down like this, but Steve knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t accept their apologies, and he wouldn’t expect Eddie to suddenly be friendly to people who tormented him for years.

“Okay. Well. I guess we’ll go, then.”

“Thanks for stopping by.”

He stood as they stood, walked them out the door, then closed and locked it behind them.

Steve made it to the bedroom before he felt the tears spring to his eyes.

Eddie was in the bathroom showering, so he hoped he could get it out quickly. He didn’t want Eddie to worry.

But unfortunately, once a few tears fell, it seemed like they wouldn’t stop.

He got back in bed, burying his face in the pillow so he could hopefully pretend to be asleep, but didn’t quite manage it before Eddie was walking back into the room.

He got in bed and silently pulled Steve against his chest, running his hands up and down his back to soothe him, not trying to use any comforting words.

“I don’t know why I’m upset about a stupid fake apology from people I don’t care about.”

“Stevie, it’s okay to be upset. They were your friends for a long time, and you still have a lot of hurt leftover from them.”

“I just wish things had been different then.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head, and as they lay there together, Steve realized this hurt would never quite go away.

—------------------

“T, I don’t think he believed us,” Carol said from the passenger seat.

“I can’t believe Steve’s with Eddie. Of all the people,” Tommy replied, not even acknowledging Carol’s words.

“They seem good together.”

“I guess.”

Carol knew Tommy had a crush on Steve in high school, they’d talked about it years ago when she found an old picture of Steve with a heart drawn on the back while they were moving the first time around.

She’d been caught off guard, but understood, and was fine with it when he explained it was definitely in the past.

And it was.

But a part of him was wondering how long Steve had realized he liked guys, and what might have happened if he’d just been brave enough to do something about his feelings before things went to shit.

He loved Carol, was happy to be married to her, and wouldn’t want Steve now, but still. The what-ifs plagued his mind on the drive back to their home.

“Are you jealous of Eddie?”

Carol sounded hesitant to ask, like she wasn’t sure which answer she would prefer because she knew either way, Tommy would be upset she asked at all.

“No. I’m not jealous. Steve and I would never have worked out.”

Which may not have been a great answer for his wife, but it was the truth, and they were always honest with each other if nothing else.

“Since I got the job at the school, maybe I’ll have more chances to convince him we meant it.”

Carol was good. Deep down she had always been good. But Tommy always managed to drag her down when they were young, convinced her she needed to be a mean girl to fit in with their group, kept it up through most of college before they finally realized life was better if you just weren’t awful to people.

“Yeah, maybe.”

—---------------------

So, a month later, when school started up, Carol began the task of showing Steve that they were truly sorry.

She would often leave notes in his mailbox in the office, usually just a “have a great day!” with a smiley face, or “let me know if you want to catch up over lunch!”

He never responded, but she knew he got them.

Tommy had issues with his car and took it to the shop Eddie worked at, nodding along to what he said and admitted he didn’t really know much about cars so he trusted Eddie to fix it.

It was entirely professional, but a small part of Tommy was satisfied when Eddie gave him a genuine smile.

—--------------------------

“Is it weird that they keep trying?” Steve asked one night while they were lying in bed.

“I don’t think it’s weird. I think maybe they just mean it.”

Steve pondered it.

Yeah, they must mean it. The old Tommy and Carol would have given up after he sent them out of their apartment the first time.

“Would you wanna go to dinner with them? Just give them a chance? It’s okay if you don’t want to. You don’t have to forgive them.”

Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve’s slowly, softly.

“If you want to, then I want to support you. We’re all different now. Maybe we can look at who they are now instead of who they were, as long as they can look at who we are and respect us.”

“Yeah.” Steve kissed Eddie’s cheek. “Yeah.”

—-------------------

Steve left a note for Carol the following Monday: “Dinner at ours? Friday at 7. Bring a red wine and beer.”

She wrote back that same day with a bunch of smiley faces and a response that they would be there.

When Friday came, Steve was nervous.

He’d planned to leave work right when school got out instead of leaving at five so he could make sure everything was clean and the food would be ready on time.

Eddie promised to be home by six in case he needed help.

And when six arrived, Eddie walked through the door with flowers and a smile, and Steve relaxed.

Nothing would go wrong.

Even if something did, they would be in it together, and they would support each other.

They didn’t have to do this alone like they did all those years ago.

—-------------------

It became a thing: dinner every Friday evening, sometimes at Steve and Eddie’s, sometimes at Tommy and Carol’s, sometimes at a new restaurant in the city.

The first few dinners were stilted, full of apologies and awkward catch-ups.

Then it got easier.

They got closer.

Eddie and Tommy actually became closer than Steve and Tommy ever were. Eddie showed him how to change his own oil so he could “stop bothering him at work just so he could look at his sexy coveralls.” Tommy rolled his eyes, but was grateful to learn.

Carol and Steve would often bake dessert together, catching up on school gossip, the latest who was dating who always entertaining them just as it did when they were in high school.

There were still the occasional moments where Steve thought about how much they hurt him, and Eddie thought about how they might be teasing him behind his back.

But it was rare, and they usually talked themselves out of it.

They were the first people to find out when Carol was pregnant, and the first people to learn it was twins. Carol and Tommy were the first (okay, first after Robin) people to find out when their offer on a house was accepted.

Tommy ended up cutting ties with his father when he found out that Steve and Eddie were together and threatened to cut him off. Tommy had a degree, and now had years of experience under his belt, and wasn’t worried about finding another job, one where he knew he earned his position because of his work and not being the boss’ son.

And when Steve and Eddie were able to finally adopt a little girl in 2002, Tommy and Carol were at the courthouse taking pictures of the new family, their own kids already best friends with her.

[the-way-astray]

HEY so I skim read your new Keefe hate post and I have some thoughts I'd like to share (all good ones!!)

As someone who also wrote a very long essay about [a] fictional character(s) while citing the page number and book word by word, you freaking ACED it. I'm always gonna be impressed when people take the time to cite your source and give a in depth explanation about it

You're lowkey not too wrong about Keefe infantilizing Sophie. For something silly and stupid, like "Iggy ate my mallowmelt!! >:( Now im mad!!" yeah I bet Sophie would seem cute lol. But for when she's genuinely angry and pissed?? Maybe lay off a little bit dude 😭 Like cmon she can murder you with her mind- There are moments where he does talk about how powerful she is though, throughout the series, but tbh as much as he does that he probably inhantilize her too *shrug* I need to reread the series, but you are making some sense.

I need Keefe getting mad and someone asking him if he's on his period LMAOOOO

Anyways as someone who loves Keefe you're making valid points. He has his flaws, and sometimes he isn't the best person. In summary

Never post that on pinterest. Those crazy Keefe loving, Fitz hating, Sokeefe shipping 11 year olds will MURDER YOU. I will respect your opinion, but they sure don't.

(your opinion is valid and you have facts *clap and approving nod* you have my respect.)

the post in question

okay, first of all, i need this essay immediately. i literally do not care what it's about but words! lots of words! about kotlc! need.

ooh, thank you so much! i mentioned this in the post itself, but this is a rework. the quotes were originally in one post (copy-pasted from another post) and the explanation was in a reblog, which was hella annoying, so i condensed them. i suppose it does make much more sense now. and my explanation is based in the fact that i don't think people were understanding why this isn't a good thing to be saying, period, when i posted it for the first time. even without context.

yeah, keefe displays a consistent attitude of "sophie is so adorable and small and cute and ditzy and soft". seriously, if you don't believe me, read his perspective in unlocked (or don't, because i'm going to do it for you in my part two keefe rant). it's why i don't buy his accepting sophie as a leader in stellarlune (done in a very, very tell-not-show way, may i add), unless he went through some serious development in unraveled. i may have to dedicate a whole post to that topic . . . anyway, yeah, him calling her powerful and talented feels very, very, very tell-not-show, and when you look at his internal thoughts in unlocked, it portrays her very differently. i'm not a fact of the way he sees her, truly. it feels very dumbed down and uwu-ified. no quotes from unlocked have been put into the post, so i'll have to update it later, but if i included unlocked quotes, this post would be like sixteen times its length. but yeah, you should reread the series before you come to a serious opinion. i'm obviously incredibly biased.

GOODBYE I WAS CITING THAT POST BECAUSE IT GAVE OFF THE EXACT ENERGY I FEEL KEEFE GIVES OFF . . . I DON'T EVEN THINK ELVES HAVE PERIODS (please nobody bring back that cursed discussion again, please, i beg) BUT YOU'RE SO CORRECT. SOMEONE WRITE A HUMAN AU WHERE THIS HAPPENS IMMEDIATELY

yay, a level-headed keefe lover, i love you guys. lol . . . i don't plan to go on pinterest anytime soon, or ever (and i also don't even think pinterest's format even allows for a long post like this . . . ). honestly the thought would have never even crossed my mind, because keepblr is my one true love and i'd never cheat on her. but now that you mention it, it might be funny . . .

[findafight]

People making Robin mean to Steve is one of the biggest reasons I loved your one sided Ron*nce post. Because I genuinely cannot see Robin just overlooking how much Nancy hurt Steve just because Robin has a crush on her. Like even in small ways, I think Nancy did a number on Steve. I look at their relationship and see Steve being told he’s over dramatic, stupid, and that his hobbies and anything that makes him Steve is automatically less than Nancy’s hobbies and desires. Idk I just can’t see Robin hearing about that or about anyone treating Steve badly and not taking Steve’s side. Stobin should have the same brain always

Ahhh yes thank you!! Yeah it simply doesn't make sense to me with the history there. Because like. Even if we do not think Nancy cheated on Steve (which I believe she did, regardless of what TPTB say) she still broke his heart. Regardless of whether or not Steve thinks it's justifiable that she did, Robin wouldn't let that go. She holds a grudge like a motherfucker. The girl she liked had a crush on Steve and he also ate bagels messily in class and didn't know her name and she held onto that for at least two if not three years. No way that after she has finally found her forever person she'll let him being hurt go!! If she can hold onto a petty grudge she can hold onto a heartbreak grudge for her best friend. She does not like people who are mean to Steve and would not be one of them in the way she is sometimes made to be in fics(outside of legitimate misunderstandings, disagreements, normal friendship conflicts) (sorry I've rewritten this like 3 times trying to figure out how to say this without dissecting the st/ncy dynamic in s2. [which i ended up doing and then copy pasting that into a blank doc because oh. i have points. but off topic for this. But it's still a bit ranty] this gets a bit long, but I did delete a weird siderant in it so it's more on topic? I do have a stobin and r//ance point I SWEAR and I hope this is cohesive)

Like, I think Steve 100% blames himself for the breakup. We see this in s4. but also the show tries to make us believe that that's the truth and not Steve seeing Nancy through rose-coloured glasses which is wild. Unreliable Narrator Steve about his own love life is just. it makes sense with everything that we see happen between him and Nancy and how she very much has fault in the ending of their relationship, and should have taken more responsibility and at least broken up with Steve after she slept with Jonathan, but allowed Steve to shoulder the blame for being a "shitty boyfriend" when he really wasn't.

The way the breakup is framed as Steve's fault from the beginning of S2 is kinda wild to me because...Steve was right?? I ALSO wouldn't want to be discussing telling people the top secret government conspiracy that people had been murdered to keep it quiet over in the school library. That's not shitty boyfriend behaviour that's smart person scared of the government that can and will kill you if you blab behaviour. And Nancy even admitted she waited for Jonathan to make a move before going back to Steve, and then she cheated on him with jon! These are not things that Steve knows about or is responsible for! Why does the show make it seem like Steve is entirely at fault here!

Anyways I think Steve must not have told Robin everything and just used his "I was a shitty boyfriend" line on why they broke up for robin and while yeah, she's not good at reading people, she does know when to not push her sad looking friend into talking about a rough breakup. Which is why Robin is on the St/cy train in s4. If she had known everything, (once again not even touching the cheating) I cannot see her pushing Steve towards Nancy. She loves Steve and wants him happy, and thinks maybe if Nancy keeps giving him eyes, knowing Steve has changed in the past year and a half, Robin thinks maybe something can come of it! that's sweet! She's trying to get her friend back together with an ex he cares about, that obviously seems into him too, and doesn't know the extent of their breakup. Unfortunately canon did not make it clear Steve or Robin or Dustin or Eddie know Nancy and Jonathan are still dating? Which makes it very weird, and not make sense, so I am choosing to believe through a game of telephone with the kids Robin and Steve think Nancy and Jonathan broke up and that's why she didn't go to cali.

But Robin doesn't have all the facts so when he does tell her all about the end of his and Nancy's relationship, yes, and Robin is squinting at him because he is acting like it is his fault his heart got broken, but from all the facts given, it doesn't actually seem that way. She's not the best at reading people but she knows Steve, and it just...doesn't add up for her. Because all the things he said he did make sense to Robin, not wanting the government to kill you is actually very reasonable etc... And Steve is still so sad about it and clearly it still affected him getting his heartbroken like that. So Robin, who can hold a bagel crumb grudge like literally no one else, will obviously hold some resentment towards Nancy for hurting Steve like that even if Steve doesn't blame her, because Robin knows what it's like to just...not understand what you did wrong and still blame yourself for it. She's neurodiverse! If we use Rebel Robin, she lost Barb as a friend for seemingly no reason to her other than Barb finding a better friend(I think?) and it wasn't so dramatic as a breakup, but still. I think seeing that Steve had legitimately tried with the tools he was given to support Nancy and be a good boyfriend but blamed himself, and Nancy letting him do that, would strike a chord with Robin. She would Not let it go.

Robin might want to be Nancy's friend, especially if Steve is encouraging it, and insisting that it's fine and they did save the world together, but you're right! she could never overlook the fact that, not only is Nancy Steve's ex which makes things awkward anyway, but she also broke his heart and let him take the blame for it even if he doesn't realize it. (not to mention!! the cheating!!! I am still looking for post s2 st/ncy fic that let's them actually talk about it but it seems like that's just not addressed by the shippers? which is unfortunate because I'd read it, but I don't ship it enough to care to write it myself. Ya feel?) She could probably move past it for friendship if Steve was okay, but I also just...don't think they'd be super close friends.

Tbh I don't see Nancy really wanting to stick around with the Hawkins crew more than exchanging holiday cards and maybe a wedding or big event or something. It'd be nice for her to have people she knows she can rely on, but her goals are so much bigger than that and she'd want to get away and move on, especially if it was for sure over and done. She wants a lot more than Hawkins, and canonically only stays in contact with people involved with the Upside Down if they're dating her or related to her. I know we love to make everyone happy friends big found family but in canon...I don't think Nancy is really looking back at her hometown once she leaves for uni.

I don't think I can even picture Robin having a crush on her in anything other than "pretty badass girl appreciation" way because knowing thabout the st/ncy breakup would probably kill any butterflies before they hatch for Robin.

She couldn't do that to Steve. She couldn't do that to herself! I've seen people complain that a lot of the... not criticism but reasoning for not liking r0nance makes it about Steve so here's this. Robin wouldn't like Nancy not only because of all the Steve stuff, but because they simply do not vibe romantically.

Robin needs someone who will be able to smile and shrug off some of her rants or rambles or even find them endearing. Nancy needs to be alone for a while but in a partner someone is able to push back against her to challenge her and encourage her to her ambitions (this is something with Nancy robin I think would struggle with, with how Nancy was dismissive of Robin and her ideas, which might lead to insecurity for Robin) Robin is involved with people from the Upside Down, she's best friends with Steve, she obviously is familiar with Dustin and Erica and possibly Max. Nancy wanting distance from that aspect of her life wouldn't gel with the company Robin keeps.

I also think not wanting to risk hurting your friend or ruining your relationship with your best friend over a crush is completly legitimate reason for not pursuing a relationship (romo or not) of any kind. Like. jeez. God forbid you care what about your friends feel. It's frustrating when people treat that like it's a stupid reason when it's not!!

Robin wouldn't date Nancy because it may not ruin her relationship with Steve from Steve's side, but from hers. It'd make her question herself and what kind of friend she is. Would she want Steve to date an ex of hers that broke her heart? Even if she blamed herself for it? She wouldn't. Does she think Steve would ever do that? absolutely not, because Steve doesn't want to even risk hurting her. She values her friendship with Steve way more than a crush or a potential girlfriend. She's confident in their relationship far more than a fledgling romantic relationship. She doesn't want to even risk the chance of losing Steve, regardless if he says he's okay with her dating Nancy. Robin doesn't want to be the person who puts romance before her best friend, because she adores Steve, he's her person, they want to combine, and she knows Steve would never do that to her. It's Robin's choice! And I believe she would choose Steve.

Also, this one point is about shippers, it's sorta...super frustrating when so much of the reasoning of people wanting it to be canon prioritizes Nancy. Even when they try to make it about Robin it's about Nancy because it seems like they just. ignore that Robin's best friend is Steve, and that Nancy was annoyed by Robin rambling and being a bit Weird. different interpretations I guess but Nancy was jealous of Robin because of her closeness to Steve and also found her annoying! they got closer in the end and Nancy definitely respected her for the rant in the office, but she would still find those traits annoying. A lot of these points come from viewing r//ance as a potential canon ship when...it's not. (I think it is legitimately so hindering that a lot of shipping is about it being canon or whatever when no? it's just fun to explore a dynamic between characters! which is also why I don't get romo r//nce bc I think they'd have a really weird and kinda awkward relationship. which is fun and neat to explore even if it's messy!)

but still, it wouldn't happen in canon and that's fine!! it's okay to like fanon content! not everything has to be canon. and it's frustrating when people insist on there being a strong possibility of canon r//ance when there isn't. That's not a bad thing! It's just a thing! I'm sorry but based on what is going on with Robin and Vickie very likely being either in a relationship or on the cusp of one in s5, and everything going on between Nancy, jon, and Steve, there's no room for it. It wouldn't make sense to shoehorn it in when Vickie is literally Right There and smiling and enjoying being around Robin more than we saw Nancy being.

People doing this also insist it'd be good for Robin when really they just don't want Nancy to be with Steve or Jonathan and it's like yeah neither do I. I think Nancy should be single. Don't put that shit on Robin. Having them get together at the end is just not allowing Nancy time to be single and find herself and explore the big wide world, and not be tied to Hawkins. Nancy deserves a big post grad adventure without worrying about the upside down.

Let Robin have a cute redhead girlfriend who understands that sometimes she cannot stop her mouth but thinks she's funny and knows that she's gonna sometimes be Very Weird with Steve. Just because a character was created to be a love interest doesn't mean they cannot be interesting. Look at our boy Steve! He was initially supposed to be Nancy's jerk boyfriend who dies and look at him now. :')

Also. It'd be sooooo weird for Nancy there. Steve's her ex! Her gf being best friends with her ex would be weird for her!

and the argument that Vickie is boring is...like ok. more than one person is allowed to ramble when a bit fluster but okay. then so is Barb. She was also barely there. so is tommy. like. people are allowed to not like characters or like ships or whatever. But c'mon. Cut the girl some slack!

Vickie is an eveasdropper who wants to barg into stobin's weird thing. I believe she returned fast times stopped at fifty three minutes and whatever seconds on purpose to suss out if Robin got it. She got so distracted by complaining about her ex she over peanut butter two slices of bread. She thinks Steve is funny. She's a bit of a freak and I think if we continue to see more of her she'll fit nicely with stobin!

Literally I only think R0nance would potentially date in an au where steve and nancy never dated and robin and nancy did instead in a first teenage loves kind of way, but ended up being too different and prioritizing contrasting or conflicting things and realizing that they don't work as a couple. Like. Even there it doesn't really make sense to me? I mean I'm writing the post o66 au with that, the first teenage love r//ance because I do think that, given the right circumstances they would potentially fall in love. But I don't think it would last long term. They're too different about too many things to be compatible I guess.

Anyways yeah I can't vibe with Romo ships that have to disregard or ignore key factors of characters or their deep and loving platonic friendships with others. Sorry I wrote so much about this it probably makes no sense. Peace and love and remember stobin are platonic soulmates who are each other's number ones :)

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Thoughts on Taskmaster s18e02, written as I watch it:

- “Creatures of habit, like nuns or something.” Alex. Are you trying to show off for the punmaster Andy Zaltzman again, because you know about his “nun drug habit” joke? You won’t win. Andy Zaltzman has told the habit/habit pun so many more times than you.

- See, this is where the wording of a prize task is important. If it were “best serious object that looks quite silly”, that would mean: of all the objects that are serious and look quite silly, the best one wins. But it’s not. It’s “most serious object that looks quite silly”, which means: of all the objects that look quite silly, the most serious one wins. This is a distinction that should make a bit difference in how the prizes are scored, and yet almost never gets taken into account, which annoys me.

- Look! Right after I wrote the above point, I put the video back on and Alex said that Greg will choose his favourite serious object that looks quite silly. But no, he won’t! He has to choose the most serious object that looks quite silly, his favourite doesn’t come into it. Come on, Alex. Get your own rules correct.

- Fair play to Babatunde. A Viking helmet is very serious, and does look silly. It’s clearly a costume shop thing that isn’t very good. But this prize isn’t about being good! It’s about being serious! Viking warriors in helmets murdered people! That is serious!

- Big fan of Emma’s prize, the pragmatic nature of personally creating something that’s custom-made to fit all parts of the task remit. Also a bit fan of the way she says “That’s a little bit more silly, isn’t it?” Just a fan of the way she says most things. Also a fan of Andy pointing out that fatherhood is, in fact, serious.

- …This episode would not have been filmed long enough after the death of noted sculptor Zack Zaltzman for it to be fine that Greg Davies has asked Andy Zaltzman “Who’s your daddy?” He’s in sculpting heaven, Greg. There was a moving tribute on The Bugle that discussed his great influence on Andy’s pun-loving comedic style.

- Oh, Andy, you’re the best. After for last week’s prize task he just brought in a lie, I was sort of on board with the idea that maybe all his prizes will be lies. But this is quite good. Best blend of serious with silly so far, probably. And he immediately called Greg out on claiming he was in the room where Guy Fawks was killed. Andy is just as on top of historical facts as he is on top of historical lies. The trick is keeping track of which is which.

- Alex shaking his head at the camera while Greg and Rosie do their over-the-top greeting exchange is funny. It’s always funny when Alex gets exasperated with Greg. And Rosie was a great casting choice to exasperate Alex.

- Yeah that’s the best one. Coffins are extremely serious. Most serious thing and the best thing, a gay coffin. Well done, Rosie. She should win this task, but only if she signs a contract promising that she really will be buried in that.

- Oh good, we’re keeping up the Emma Sidi winking thing. I am entirely on board with that.

- I’m actually all right with that scoring. I certainly agree with the top two.

- I usually watch TV shows with subtitles on if that’s an option, but unexpectedly, I’ve found that the presence of Rosie Jones actually caused me to turn them off. Because she talks much slower than I can read, so the subtitles kept spoiling her punchlines, more so than they did for other people, who were likely to finish talking before I’d read the line. I’ve been watching this episode with subtitles off, and have been slightly surprised by how easy Rosie Jones is to understand. I definitely used to struggle to understand her, and then there was a while when I could understand every word but I only if I put in a bit of extra effort. I now process her speech just as easily as anyone else’s, no extra effort needed. For anyone else who’s struggling to understand her, I think it was watching all her episodes of The Last Leg from Paris 2021 that made the difference. I mean, it definitely helps that I’ve worked with people with cerebral palsy in real life so I’ve heard that way of speaking a bit more. But honestly, I’m not naturally good at auditory processing (that’s why I normally leave subtitles on), and my brain still adjusted pretty easily to the way she talks. I’ve seen comments online about her being hard to understand, and I wonder if those comments will decrease as the season goes on, because I think it just takes getting used to.

Any decrease in complaints about that difficulty will, of course, not include anyone with actual auditory processing disorders, obviously, as my own auditory processing is bad-but-not-disorder-bad, so someone worse at it than me might not get used to her as fast as I did. But those people would also have trouble understanding the able-bodied comedians, and presumably rely on subtitles either way. Obviously the complaints will also not decrease from the many trolls who are disingenuously claiming they want her off TV because she’s hard to understand, when actually they just don’t want to see disabled people. But I’m sure there are lots of people who are genuinely struggling to understand her, and if any of those people are reading this, know that it really does get easier with a bit of time.

- I like that Emma and Andy’s outfits still get a laugh when they first appear, as it’s a new audience every time. Every time we get to hear more people delight in learning about the cricket obsession.

- So they’re not going to show us what Alex is wearing. I like the idea of that outfit task, but I think it would be better if they gave the contestants the opportunity to change into whatever outfit that is after they read the task. Or maybe they could just tell them what type of task it is (physical, creative, etc.), and let them choose based on that, but not read the instructions until later. That would add a fun element of them having to bet on their own skills in certain areas, rather than it just coming down to luck of which task they choose.

- Were there always googly eyes on the inside of the Taskmaster house front door?

- Yank Tank! Gordo! Blanket! Dina! The Colonel! I’ve stopped to write this point before seeing anything besides those few establishing shots to introduce this task, but I already know what that is referencing! That’s the live task from season 1 where they had to introduce an Australian rules football team! I probably think about once a month of Tim Key losing confidence in his guesses of names and just introducing the last guy as “Mr. Naughty Boy”.

- The fact that Alex comments on how old Andy’s gloves are makes me think this could be the first task they filmed. But the fact that Jack Dee is wearing the outfit for it means it’s presumably not the first. Unless Jack Dee just thought the whole outfit thing was stupid and got it over with on the first task, which would be funny.

- Having now heard the task instructions – which is pretty much the same concept as the season 1 task – I have to say, I would be furious if I were on this season and had not chosen to wear the hot dog outfit for this one. Straightforward memorization is my best skill. When I was 14 and getting assessed for disabilities, I once got an assessment that put me in the 33rd percentile – meaning the bottom 33 percent compared to other kids my age – at math-type skills, and the 9th percentile – bottom 9 percent – at social skills. 99th percentile at the “verbal skills”, which were basically just my ability to memorize things and read them back. It’s shocking that the result came back autism (well, at the time, Asperger’s), isn’t it? My mother put me in a play for one year as a kid to try to improve my social skills, I was obviously awful at every part of it except that I not only perfectly memorized my own lines, I memorized the entire play and mouthed along to every other person’s lines as they said them, which I’m sure didn’t make me annoying at all. The point is that I could put on a hot dog costume and memorize the hell out of some Aussie rules football names, and I’ll be disappointed in any Taskmaster contestants who can’t.

- They said “best memory wins”, instead of more specific criteria, which means there will be another part to this coming. Having to identify them all later on, during a different task? That would suggest that this was, in fact, early in the filming process.

- And they’ve just gone back to the studio and confirmed that this was, the first task after the hot dog thing was introduced. Though I might do it the same way as Jack, if you had to put the suit on before knowing anything about the task. May as well just get it out of the way, if it’s pure guesswork. They don’t say how early into filming they introduced the hot dog thing, though.

- Okay, so there’s going to be a second part to this. Does Jack have to wear the hot dog costume in part 2 to have his points doubled?

- Team meetings: Andy sounds like he learned how to meet people from a book on social etiquette, and is carefully sticking to the instructions. Babatunde sounds like he did not read that book, hence opening with “Why are you dressed like that?” And then Emma comes in and announces her full name like a primary school teacher.

Everyone’s getting the Jack/Rosie pair they were hoping for. I dislike Jack Dee too much to find that exciting, but Rosie is always fun.

- I like the Andy/Emma combination. Andy going straight to history, mythology, Ceberus. Emma going straight to juggling, and her next idea is smoothie making. Both looking equally serious about this.

- Okay, it is quite funny that Rosie Jones offered to stand on her head. And good on Jack Dee to help her do it, as most people would probably refuse to take part in that.

- Ooh, Emma rolling her eyes at the camera about her own teammates, literally behind their backs, is a team dynamic we’ve not seen before. That’s fun.

- Technically, “Taskmaster”, when used as the title of this show, is one word. So Rosie and Jack shouldn’t have split it into two when saying one word at a time.

- I am not impressed by the fact that Rosie Jones can enthusiastically bang a makeshift drum and Jack Dee can unenthusiastically strum a makeshift guitar. That is exactly what I would expect those people to do.

- They actually did the smoothie thing. Incredible. Great work by the editors there, setting up the smoothie idea as the joke before we see what they really did, and then surprise! Smoothie.

- I cannot get over how funny their costume is. The baby heads on top of their heads. Nothing in the task said they’d get extra points for having more than three heads. They just decided to do that. Andy has duck heads on his fingers. And is wearing a wig for no reason whatsoever, except that I guess it makes his hair match the skull’s hair. Andy does not need a wig. His hair is already wild.

- I’ve only just noticed the snow leopard on Emma’s shoulder.

- Really impressive grape dispensing from Emma Sidi there.

- I cannot get over the intensity of all three of their glares at the camera as they blend the smoothie.

- Glad Andy has claimed the smoothie made him levitate, I was worried about the lack of lies in this episode so far.

- Greg is incorrect. That smoothie was more impressive than the instruments.

- “Star Wars was filmed on a doorbell camera.” Andy getting all the lies in now.

- Rosie Jones is also lying. Elaborate and remarkable are not synonyms.

- I don’t know where the calling Rosie Jones “Daddy” thing actually started, but the first time I heard it was when she got paired with Joe Lycett on Hypothetical, they announced that their team name was “Mummy and Daddy”, and then Rosie declared “I’m Daddy”, which made me laugh so hard as it just perfectly summarized both of their personas and their combined dynamic. Love that she’s still running with that one, having it across her Taskmaster onesie.

- Not the first time Alex Horne has been given birth to on Taskmaster. But it is the first time I’ve heard someone claim that Christmas was a holiday even before Jesus was born.

- I am now disappointed that Andy Zaltzman has not chosen to do this entire season dressed as a ghost. It’s not great remarkable footage. But I want to see more of it.

- Babatunde at least had the element of that being something that a doorbell camera might actually capture, someone waiting for the door to open. He just… didn’t add any punchline to it.

- Emma Sidi’s video is fascinating. Cooking a pancake with a lighter. Why is she delivering a pancake to this house in an envelope? There’s a story there. I want to know it. That is how you make something remarkable.

- Not a fan of Jack Dee, but I do have to give him credit that in two episodes, he has managed to light some shit on fire, and to use a drill to remove pieces of the house.

- Jesus, Jack. What the fuck?

- Okay, a ghost being real is more remarkable than a toilet working. Come on.

- Ridiculous scoring. Jack is way too high.

- So how long after part 1 of the task are they doing part 2? That would be relevant information to tell us. I do like that they’re making Jack put the costume back on.

- It appears that they get unlimited guesses for each figure, and get a point if any of their guesses is the correct one. So, couldn’t they just point to each head and guess every name that they remember? They’d still have to remember all the names, but they wouldn’t have to know which is which.

- Andy, you’re letting the autistics down here.

- They’re saving Emma for last. I hope it’s because she nails it. She seems like she might be great at this.

- Taskmaster jokes that are somehow still funny in the eighteenth season: contestants who are trying to label something and throw out a joke guess, but the screen puts up their joke in red with the “incorrect” buzzer over it as though that was an actual guess.

- They’d better not give Jack a point for “Yanky Tank”. It’s “Yank Tank”.

- Oh, come on. No one was going to try shining a black light on those things. Though in a task like this, it would probably be worth at least looking underneath them to see if the names are written somewhere.

- Jack’s performance would be impressive if he’d actually gotten 7. But the names were wrong.

- God damn, Emma. Now that was a lot more impressive than making a smoothie. Naming the first few right off the bat was impressive. Then immediately going detective mode while dressed as a detective. Successfully detecting, while dressed as a detective. I was captivated. I want her to star in a movie. I am genuinely trying to find ways around saying “Oh my God I had no idea detectives could be so attractive”, and have been trying to avoid saying such things for this entire post, because, you know, don’t want to objectify, want to compliment her talents as a performer rather than her attractiveness. And the impressiveness of this scene is about her talents as a performer; I’m pretty sure it’s so much fun to watch her scurry around the room looking for cards because she has a background in so much character and sketch stuff, she’s able to just be interesting and fun, no matter what she’s saying or doing. Also I’m in love with her. As a separate issue.

- Well, the live task instructions are utterly incomprehensible, that has nothing to do with Rosie Jones’ disability. Understood her words just fine, have no idea what the task is.

- Well, having now watched the task, I still don’t really understand what it was. I mean, I’ve got the basic rules. Didn’t love the lack a skill element in that task, but it did get a bit exciting at the end.

- Funny episode, overall. The cast has gelled so well, so fast. The main things from this episode that I want more of are the team of 3 interacting with each other from textbooks, Emma Sidi running around being a detective, and Andy Zaltzman working his historic and mythological references where they don't really belong. Maybe more taking apart the house, too.

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 3) Chapter Nine

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Nine: Plastered Party

Summary: (Y/N) sees the before and after of Sherlock and John's Stag Night.

Present…

            “Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon,” recapped Sherlock for the wedding guests.

            Many looked queasy since they hadn’t expected murder discussions at such a celebration, but Mary, John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson weren’t surprised at all. (Y/N) looked deep in thought as they considered the case again.

            They traced the spot where the wound had been on Bainbridge over their belt and pants. Odd spot, but without a weapon, it was hard to place why it was there or how it was made. Besides, they still hadn’t caught the attempted-murderer, and most would say that was more important. (That being said, (Y/N) wanted to understand all of the aspects).

            “Where did it go?” continued Sherlock. “Guests, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish. But in all of this, there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?”

            The guests all shifted uncomfortably, and those who knew Sherlock didn’t speak up since they’d obviously be wrong. (Y/N) didn’t say anything because they were more interested in the entirety of the case already.

            “Come on, come on, there is actually an element of Q and A to all of this,” said Sherlock. His eyes landed on Lestrade. “Scotland Yard. Have you got a theory?” Lestrade stared at him blankly. “Yeah, you. You’re a detective—broadly speaking. Got a theory?”

            Lestrade cleared his throat. “Er, um, if the, uh, if-if the blade was, uh, propelled through the grating in the air vent…” He trailed off. “Maybe a ballista or a-a, uh, a catapult. Um, someone tiny could crawl in there. So yeah, we’re looking, uh, for a small person,” he stammered.

            “Brilliant,” said Sherlock.

            “Really?” said Lestrade, surprised.

            “No,” said Sherlock. “Next!” His eyes landed on Tom whispering to Molly.

            Here we go, thought (Y/N), knowing that Sherlock was about to humiliate Tom.

            “Hello, who was that?” he said. “Tom, got a theory?”

            Tom stood up (which was unnecessary, but oh well). “Um, an attempted suicide, uh, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone. Broke after piercing his abdomen. Like a meat…dagger,” he said hesitantly.

            Mary stared at him in disbelief, and several suppressed laughs went up from the wedding guests.

            “A meat dagger,” repeated Sherlock.

            “Yes,” said Tom awkwardly.

            “Sit. Down,” hissed Mary, mortified. Tom sat down, and Sherlock almost smirked in amusement.

            “No,” said Sherlock, and he looked out over everyone again. “There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly, it was the usual. John Watson, who, while (Y/N) and I were trying to solve a murder, instead saved a life. There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling. The best and bravest man I know—and on top of that he actually knows how to do stuff…except wedding planning and serviettes—he’s terrible at those.”

            The guests all laughed, and John smiled.

            “True,” he said, chuckling.

            “The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly planned murder—or attempted murder—I’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter: the most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware. However, I’m not just here to praise John,” continued Sherlock.

            (Y/N) sat up in interest. They wanted to know where this was going. John looked slightly less excited.

            “I’m also here to embarrass him,” said Sherlock. “So let’s move on to some—”

            “No, no, wait, so how was it-how was it done, the stabbing?” asked Lestrade.

            Sherlock looked down awkwardly, and (Y/N) looked at him supportively. “I’m afraid we don’t know. We didn’t solve that one.”

            I will eventually, thought (Y/N), obstinate as ever.

            “It’s very…very disappointing,” said Sherlock. He cleared his throat. “Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night. Of course, there’s hours of material here, but I’ve cut it down to the really good bits.”

A few days ago…

            “Don’t forget Connie Prince,” said (Y/N), putting the pin in the map.

            “Right,” said Sherlock, writing down the location.

            “Are you sure this is the best idea or is it just an experiment?” asked (Y/N).

            “This is John’s Stag Party. I wouldn’t make it an experiment,” said Sherlock.

            “So getting a drink on every street the three of us have found a body is a brilliant idea?” said (Y/N). “I haven’t tried it, but won’t you get…absolutely pissed?”

            Sherlock flipped a page over in his notebook. “Isn’t that the point of Stag Parties?”

            “No idea,” said (Y/N). “Just don’t get alcohol poisoning.”

            “I’ve calculated how much we can have,” said Sherlock proudly. “We’ll be fine.”

l

            (Y/N) looked up from their book as Sherlock and John opened the door of 221B. They stumbled inside, each leaning on the other.

            “I thought you’d be out much longer,” they said.

            “(Y/N)!” exclaimed Sherlock, stumbling towards them. The pair were piss drunk. “Look, John, it’s my kid!”

            “Hullo, (Y/N),” said John, waving slowly before stumbling towards the bathroom.

            “Looks like your calculations were off,” said (Y/N) as Sherlock leaned against the wall.

            “Mm-nonsense…Just more variablesss,” said Sherlock. He grabbed (Y/N) and smiled. “I’m glad to be back home with you. My kid.” He chuckled. “Holmes kid.”

            “I’m glad you’re back, too, Dad,” said (Y/N), hugging him back for a moment. They were unused to so much affection from Sherlock, but it was nice. “I’ll let you and John enjoy the Stag Night.”

            “Oh, right, right…” said Sherlock, remembering what he was doing. “Where’re you-where’re you goin’?”

            “I’ll be at Mrs. Hudson’s,” said (Y/N).

            John stumbled back out of the bathroom.

            (Y/N) grabbed their bowl of lollipops and book and headed to the door. “Have fun!”

            Sherlock sighed. “My kid’s the best…”

            (Y/N) walked downstairs to Mrs. Hudson.

            “Oh, hello, dear, everything alright?” she asked.

            “Sherlock and John moved their Stag Night back to 221B. They’re hammered,” said (Y/N).

            Mrs. Hudson tutted. “Those boys.” However, she was smiling. “Would you like some tea?”

            “Sure,” said (Y/N), sitting down.

            “So, what are you reading right now?” said Mrs. Hudson.

            “The Agatha Christie you lent me,” said (Y/N).

            “What do you think?”

            “Well, Poirot’s investigations are very different than Sherlock’s and mine, but I like them because…”

            And while the two men upstairs got to enjoy their party, (Y/N) got some well-deserved peace while downstairs with Mrs. Hudson. The old woman was just thankful that (Y/N) was back to acting like themself. Without Sherlock, they’d been so bland. Now they were alive again. Mrs. Hudson was incredibly thankful.

            The door to the 221 Baker Street slammed shut. (Y/N) peeked into the corridor and saw Sherlock and John walking away with a young woman.

            Client, identified (Y/N). They smiled. That would be an interesting case and investigation. They pulled out their phone and opened a message to Lestrade.

Sherlock and John are on a case. They’re drunk. Let me know if they end up in your care. -(Y/Initials)

l

            (Y/N)’s phone buzzed, and they set down the tea Mrs. Hudson had made before she went to bed.

Found them. They were looking over someone’s flat to “investigate,” and the landlord got tired of their shit, and your dad vomited on the rug. I’m bringing them to 221B. -GL

            Well, that’s one for an investigation to close, thought (Y/N), heading to the door and waiting for Sherlock to get dropped off.

            “Hello, (Y/N),” sighed Lestrade as he opened the door. “Sorry about this.” Sherlock and John stood beside him, slightly leaning on each other.

            “I was still awake,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            “You should be…sleeping,” said Sherlock as sternly as he could manage while still sobering.

            “I wasn’t tired,” said (Y/N), opening the door wider so the two men could walk in. “Thanks, Lestrade.”

            “No problem. Need any more help?” he asked.

            “They’re going to crash in their chairs upstairs,” said (Y/N), knowing exactly what would happen as usual. “They’ll be fine.” Behind them, Sherlock and John were slowly making their way upstairs.

            Lestrade laughed as he watched. “Alright, then. Can’t wait to hear about this at the wedding.”

            “Night,” said (Y/N), waving. Lestrade nodded, waved, and headed back to his car. (Y/N) closed the door, locked it, and headed up to 221B.

            “What’re you doing?” they asked as they saw John lying in his chair while Sherlock balanced his computer on his knee.

            “Tessa…dated a ghost,” he muttered. “Annoying. Called John…Hamish…Rude…But most interesting case in months. Not missing the opportunity…” He trailed off tiredly, and (Y/N) caught the computer before it fell to the floor.

            “If you rest for an hour and sober up, I’ll help you with the case, alright?” said (Y/N).

            “I’m…supposed to tell you to rest,” said Sherlock.

            “You did,” said (Y/N) supportively.

            “You’re still awake,” muttered Sherlock. “I’m…bad dad.”

            “You’re a great dad,” said (Y/N) softly, smiling.

            “Then why’re you not sleeping?” Sherlock’s head lolled to the side, and he fell asleep.

            (Y/N)’s heart warmed. Their dad really did care about them.

            They glanced at their book on the coffee table. That being said, staying up a little longer to read wouldn’t hurt. ((Y/N) wasn’t exactly known for following directions).

l

            A little over an hour later (as (Y/N) predicted), Sherlock awoke. He was somehow refreshed from that brief rest, and he got up. He swayed for a moment, but he righted himself and headed to his map of London. Sherlock pulled out the Stag Party pins and started rearranging them.

            “So, are these the ghost sightings?” said (Y/N), sitting up and immediately going into investigation mode.

            “You should be sleeping,” said Sherlock.

            “So should you,” said (Y/N).

            The two stared at each other for a moment before Sherlock relented and went back to the case. However, he made a mental note to send (Y/N) to bed in half an hour at the most. He couldn’t let his kid go on without sleeping.

            “There are going to be others,” he said.

            “More women dating a ghost?” said (Y/N).

            Sherlock nodded and promptly decided not to move his head like that again. “Most ghosts tend to haunt a single house. This ghost, however, is willing to commute. Look.” He gestured to the wide spaces between pins around the Thames. He opened the computer, logging into a chatroom to get to each of the women contact by a “ghost date.”

            “Mind Palace?” said (Y/N).

            “Mind Palace,” confirmed Sherlock, sitting down next to (Y/N) on the couch.

            This way, both of them would be able to see the answers the women gave. Both would be in their own heads, but they’d be able to see the discussion going on between all of them and hear one another if needed. That way they could both arrive at the correct conclusion.

            “Let us begin,” said Sherlock, and he opened the chatroom.

Taglist:

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@mentallyunstablemanlover

[hummerous]

you can skip this post. it's just personal nonsense dw bout it

cw: transphobia (disc), homophobia (disc), childhood trauma (ment.)

y'know when something unsurprising happens but you feel the moment sorta calcify in your brain. like oh wow yeah no I can't be normal about this ever again

well. a few years ago, after a sudden stroke and subsequent surgery - my father went off the rails. in a way that, in retrospect, was inevitable. he raised me as an atheist, as a humanist, almost by mistake — a byproduct of rage, not compassion for his fellow man or conscious effort of any kind.

he started talking about alternative medicine.

which was fair, at first. you gotta give people room to cope and a stroke isn't something you can just walk away from

but it got .. worse.

he went all in. stopped taking his pressure meds (until it became clear his marriage wouldn't survive that), started buying herbal remedies in bulk, started buying books that ranged from Ayurvedic Remedies to Can You Think Cancer Away?

and I.... did not react well.

My father's son, bitchiest little shit on the block — I got him a book for his birthday. (as is family tradition)

The Demon Haunted Mind by Carl Sagan.

for reference,

which was. received.. in complete silence.

it sat on the unused dining table for months until I put it up in my bookshelf. which is.. again, pretty much what you'd expect.

fast forward a few years and I'm trying to patch things up with him. it's clear my mother's taste in men is about as good as mine and after a certain point that's her decision. I ought to respect it, best I can

so a few weeks ago the two of us were discussing one of my sister's close friends. he's a bright, passionate young man who happens to also have had a traumatic background — and be trans

and my parents have up until that point, been very (surprisingly) supportive of him. they're homophobic, racist, misogynists — so I'll take what I can get

but in our discussion. dad thought it was a good time to explain, carefully, that he didn't want my sister to consort with broken people.

his word

I.. stared. blankly. for a few seconds.

he thought this was his cue to elaborate.

friends, romans, countrymen - this did not make things better.

and I........ just kinda. tucked the memory away.

because what do you say to that. if I opened my mouth I might've come out then and there. if I followed my first, second or third impulses - he'd be dead. so I didn't do that. because, and I cannot stress this enough, murder would not solve this stupid fucking family

so I just tucked it away. and stewed. didn't tell my sister anything. she's about the last friend my dad's got and I would rather not break her heart like that.

but then again, two days ago, he brought up again how he wasn't homophobic - but broken people made him uncomfortable. and they were unnatural degenerates anyhow. he had sympathy for their plight - from a safe distance.

(both his children are queer. make of that what you will)

my sister was there for that, and she flew off the handle. as she should have. and kinda screamed (her logically sound arguments) at him - I don't think he heard a single word.

she went to bed early

after that, I sat down and explained things to him as best I could - in the calmest manner I could.

it could've been a cultural disconnect. maybe he was looking for a different word?

he told me he hated how I always tried to teach people things, him especially, that I was patient and this was a virtue - but I shouldn't waste it on things like this.

(both my parents were teachers. make of that what you will.)

anyways. I'm thinking about getting him the first present I've gotten him since my first passive aggressive hissyfit,

before we move out.

[bi-bard]

Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe Relationships with the Murder Husbands [Pt. 3 - Midnights Edition] - Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter Preference [NBC's Hannibal]

Title: Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe Relationships with the Murder Husbands [Pt. 3 - Midnights Edition]

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Word Count: 3,394 words

Warning(s): cheating, imprisonment, burnout

Author's Note: I've redone this four times. (However, High Infidelity was in all four versions)

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

Will Graham:

High Infidelity

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th? Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

--Third Person--

It all kept going through Will's mind in flashes. Like lightning strikes. Just as blinding.

He could still feel the touches and kisses. He could hear every word and sound. He never knew how vivid his memories could be until he was truly haunted by them.

He wondered if (Y/n) was in the same state.

Lying in their bed at home, watching the movie of their night together. He wondered how they felt when they thought about it. Did they experience the same mix of guilt and longing that he did? Or maybe they were still angry at him.

(Y/n) and Will had a history that went back even further than his history with Hannibal.

The two of them had become everything to each other. (Y/n) had been with Will through everything. They stayed by his side when he got arrested, when he got locked away in his head, and everything in between. In his mind, they became a beacon. A sign of safety that may never be matched again.

Everyone else could see that too.

They saw the way that the pair of them looked at each other. It was easy to see how Will seemed to relax just a bit. How (Y/n)'s entire face just softened when they saw him.

Which is why it was more than shocking when Will left (Y/n) behind after Hannibal was arrested. He left town suddenly, leaving (Y/n) in the Wolf Trap house with a few dogs. No one knew why.

(Y/n) refused to go into detail about it. Instead, they would shake their head and say that it was for the best.

And then, Will came back.

After three years, the pair were meeting again in Jack Crawford's office.

Will kissed (Y/n) first. Back at the old house in Wolf Trap.

(Y/n) saw the wedding band on his finger. They just couldn't bring themself to care about it.

The rest of that night was contained to the blur of images. They ran through Will's head like images on a projector.

He wasn't sure how long he had spent lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling before he reached for the phone.

His body was moving faster than his mind was.

"Hey," Molly's voice almost caught him off-guard. "How you doing out there?"

"As well as expected," Will replied quietly.

"I see," she mumbled. "But you're doing some good, right?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I hope so."

He didn't see it, but he could assume her eyebrows furrowed. "What's going on, Will?"

He closed his eyes. Every word, every thought was stuck in his throat. He couldn't think of something to say. He knew what he needed to say. What needed to be explained. He just couldn't.

In a way, Molly already knew.

She knew all too well about (Y/n) and their importance. Will still held onto the gifts they gave him. His hesitance to tell stories about them was sign enough to Molly that the wounds were all too fresh for him to discuss.

She couldn't find a way to be upset with them before then.

She only knew of the kind person that tried to keep the man she loved safe. She couldn't punish someone for being in love. She could only punish the actions that a person acted on. And even then, she found herself terrifyingly understanding.

"Did..." she didn't want to ask, but she knew that she needed the answer. "Did something happen with (Y/n)?"

Will's breath got stuck just as the words had mere moments before. "Yes."

Her eyes closed. "Did you sleep with them?"

"Yes."

She bit her lip and looked down. She was truly angrier with Will than she was with (Y/n).

She could've screamed at him. She had every right to do so. Will was expecting her to. Almost hoping that she would. Granted, he wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was just in the hopes of knowing where he stood after it all.

But she didn't.

Molly stayed silent for a while, letting all of it sink in and settle under the surface of her skin.

"I'm sorry."

Will's words were a whisper. A desperate, overwhelmed, scared whisper.

He heard a sigh before Molly spoke, "I know."

It was just as quiet but sounded emotionless.

There wasn't another word spoken before the line went dead.

Will closed his eyes.

Nothing left to do now but deal with the feelings he still held for (Y/n).

Anti-Hero

I should not be left to my own devices They come with prices and vices I end up in crisis

If you had told me years ago that I would be visiting the man I loved in prison, then I would have scoffed at you.

If you had told me that I would find myself being constantly "confronted" (harassed) by the same "journalist" every day for God knows how long, then I would've questioned what the hell I had done to warrant such attention.

But here I was. Doing both.

Visiting Will was both the best and worst time of my week.

The best because I got to see the man I loved. The worst because it was in a hospital for the criminally insane.

I found myself sitting on a chair across from Will. He was in a cage. Locked away like a damn zoo animal.

I wanted nothing more than to walk closer. Just to touch his hand or press a kiss to his knuckles. But I couldn't do that because of the guard watching over us.

"I heard that you've been seeing a lot of Freddie Lounds," he said.

I nodded. "She got our address from somewhere. Don't know who would've known our address and willingly given it to her."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"It is," he corrected. "I'm the one being accused of murder, yet you're the one getting harassed. It's my fault that this is happening to you."

I shook my head.

"You're getting harassed and insulted. You have to come here just to see me. It's not fair to you. I have managed to drag you through hell without ever meaning to."

"I don't think so," I shrugged. He sighed. "You wanna know who I blame?"

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"I blame whoever decided to set you up in the first place," I said. "As far as the harassment, that's Freddie's fault. Not yours. You can't control how disrespectful some people can be."

He didn't respond.

"I love you, Will," I continued. "I love you so much that I sometimes can't even comprehend it. I am not going anywhere. I am staying right here with you. Through every moment of it. Got it?"

He slowly nodded.

I relaxed into my seat a bit.

"I love you too," he added after a moment.

I grinned. "I know."

I saw the start of a grin forming on his lips.

It brought me a sense of hope.

One way or another, we were both going to get through this.

Mastermind

What if I told you none of it was accidental And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me I laid the groundwork and then just like clockwork The dominoes cascaded in a line What if I told you I'm a mastermind?

There was something about watching Will do his work that was absolutely fascinating.

He could look at a single room and tell you what happened within the last twenty-four hours. I found all of it incredibly impressive. Granted, it also made me feel guilty watching his mind go to a place that he clearly didn't want it to.

We had been in the lecture hall that he taught in. He was looking over crime scene photos and mentioned that I could stay if I wanted to.

"What do you think," he asked, looking at me.

Oh. That. That's why he told me that I could stay.

I looked over the photos.

Will was standing right next to me. So close that I could've sworn that I felt his breath hitting me.

I frowned at the images. It's not like I actually knew what I was talking about.

"I... I don't know," I muttered. "I can't make sense of any of it."

"Well, that's because this killer is working very hard to make us see a message when there very well may not be one."

"Oh," I mumbled, not looking away from the images. I wanted to see what he did.

"Are you alright?"

I looked over to see his eyebrows furrowed. He genuinely thought that I was able to do half of what his mind could do. He was diving into the darkest corners of a person's mind and coming back with a jewel.

I was frantically flailing my limbs in the hopes of not drowning and revealing that I couldn't swim.

I nodded.

"Are you sure," he pushed. I offered another nod. "You are not as good at hiding your emotions as you think you are."

"Don't be an asshole," I muttered.

He chuckled, shaking his head a bit. "Don't lie to me."

I took a deep breath, scanning his face for a moment.

"I have been for a while," I confessed.

"Excuse me," he raised an eyebrow at me.

"I... don't understand an ounce of the stuff you've been telling me about," I explained. "I've been doing a lot of reading and listening to your lectures when I can. I don't actually know a lot about any of this."

Will's arms crossed over his chest. "Why?"

"It sounds really stupid," I replied. "I liked you."

He didn't respond.

"I... I liked you, so I thought that the best way to get your attention was to try to relate to you with some of this stuff," I continued. "Not that I'm trying to trivialize what you do. I understand that what you do causes you pain and I want nothing more than to be able to help with that.

"And I'm sorry for lying to you. I just... I wanted to get to know you. Properly. I thought you were intriguing and clever and sarcastic as all hell and handsome. I was just trying to get you to let me in. Let me spend some time with you."

I barely noticed Will's gaze shifting as I spoke.

"And, not to brag, but it did work," I motioned around me. "I'd... I'd like to think that my company isn't a complete annoyance if you let me sit and listen to your theories and deductions. If it hadn't had some benefit, then I wouldn't have done it."

I stopped myself at long last. It was like the pause button on the remote was stuck. I just hadn't been able to stop talking until I had gotten all of that out.

"Will," I said. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not... I'm not upset," he explained. "A little shocked, maybe, but not upset."

"Oh," I muttered. "That's good."

He nodded.

I watched him step even closer to me. My heart rate spiked up. My palms were becoming sweaty. I was certain that my pupil had devoured most of my iris as I looked at him. His eyes seemed to focus on every other part of me.

His nervousness wasn't clear until he moved.

He was hesitant. Like he was ready to back away at any time. Whenever I showed an ounce of discomfort. I stayed where I was, letting him decide what happened next.

His lips found mine carefully. I had never kissed someone that treated me so much like glass.

I kissed him back just as gently.

His hands slowly moved to cup the sides of my face. Kissing him back seemed to unlock something. His hesitance fell away. He kissed me more passionately. I grinned into the kiss.

I leaned back a few moments later, feeling like if I didn't stop kissing him, then I never would.

Will tried to follow my lips, making me laugh quietly as I pushed him back by his chest.

I think it's safe to say that my plan had been a success.

Hannibal Lecter:

Labyrinth

It only feels this raw right now Lost in the labyrinth of my mind Break up, break free, break through, break down You would break your back to make me break a smile

Hannibal's house was overwhelming.

It almost felt like a museum of sorts. Like if I touched anything, an alarm would sound, and I would be escorted off of the premises.

The dinners he crafted were no different. He treated every plate like a canvas. It felt like a crime to cut into any of it.

I was always so grateful for the invitations that he offered me.

It was a privilege to get to sit across from him and have such casual conversation.

I always assumed that I was the only one who had something to be grateful for. He always seemed so in control of what was going on. He guided the conversation. The dinners were in his domain. He seemed to know every detail of the night long before he decided that I would be the one he was sharing it with.

One night, Hannibal showed me that I may have been wrong.

"I must say," he started, "I have often found it difficult to form genuine connections with people. But with you, it feels like I have no choice other than to allow one to form."

I chuckled. "I hope that's a good thing. I wouldn't want you to feel like I'm twisting your arm."

"Not at all," he explained. "'It is simply difficult for me to find space to hide from you. It feels more natural to let you see every part of me."

I grinned. "I hope you know that the feeling is mutual."

He smiled back at me.

"May I ask what inspired that confession," I asked as I reached for the glass of wine in front of me.

There was a pause as he watched me take a sip before returning the glass to the place it belonged.

"I found myself thinking about it in between appointments today," he finally replied. "I have yet to find myself looking forward to dinner with others in the same way I look forward to dinner with you."

"I'm flattered. I thought I was alone in terms of anticipation."

His grin seemed amused. "Perhaps our next dinner should be under different circumstances."

I hummed. "Well, Hannibal, it sounds like you're suggesting a date."

"And if I were?"

He looked away from me as he asked. For just a moment, he seemed nervous. Like some part of him thought that I would be able to say no to him.

"I would be happy to accept," I said.

He looked at me again. "Well then, I'll be sure to make something truly special for the occasion."

I bit the inside of my cheek nervously.

And just like that, everything had changed.

Paris

I want to brainwash you into loving me forever I want to transport you to somewhere the culture's clever Confess my truth in swooping, sloping, cursive letters

I had no better word to describe that night than fairytale.

Hannibal and I were in the midst of building our new lives. This meant a new home, new names, whole careers to rebuild. Everything was different. The only constant was each other.

Part of Hannibal's path to gaining respect from the people he needed to respect him was going to fancy events.

As he led me into a grand hall full of people in fancy suits and dresses, all conversing and drinking and dancing, I found myself overwhelmed.

I stood off to the side, deciding to entertain the view from the large windows along the wall.

Hannibal walked over to me, touching my back in an act of comfort. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "It's all just... more than I'm used to."

"I see," he replied. "Would you like to leave?"

"No, no," I said. "It's okay. I just need to adjust."

Hannibal reached over and grabbed my hand. I watched as he pulled it up to his lips, pressing a kiss on the knuckles.

"This all feels too good to be real," I mumbled as he did. He tilted his head at me, lowering my hand again. "The grand party and the fancy people. Being in a place like this. Being here with you. It all feels like some romantic movie."

"But you're happy," he asked.

I moved my free hand to cup the side of his face. "Yes. You have always made me very happy. You are the reason this all feels like such a dream."

His grin grew before he turned his head to place a kiss on my palm.

As we stood by the window, in this space between the beautiful city and the grand party, I decided that there was absolutely no place I would rather be other than right by his side.

Sweet Nothing

Industry disrupters and soul deconstructors And smooth-talking hucksters Out glad-handing each other And the voices that implore "You should be doing more" To you I can admit That I'm just too soft for all of it

I never ignored Hannibal when he greeted me.

Every time I came home, he would be tucked away in the kitchen. I would hear him call "Welcome home" and I would reply with some kind of greeting before saying that I was going to change before dinner.

He must've known that something was wrong from the moment that I didn't reply to his greeting.

I simply went upstairs silently and changed my clothes.

I came back down to the kitchen a little while later.

I wonder how exhausted I looked to him. I would like to think that I hid it well from everyone else, but with him, I never could. I never felt like I needed to. He had this air of comfort and safety to him. One that pulled down my walls before I could fight it.

I sat in the armchair in the corner in silence. I watched him work.

"Would you like to discuss what happened today," he asked, looking at me.

I shook my head, eyes still fixed on his cooking.

I heard him sigh and place the knife down. "(Y/n)..."

I finally let my eyes meet his.

"You can talk to me about whatever is bothering you," he explained. "Hiding your thoughts and true feelings in a relationship can lead to a very unhealthy pattern of behavior. One that I don't wish to see you partake in."

I didn't speak up for a moment.

"Darling, talk to me, please. I would like to know what is wrong so I can think of some way to fix it."

I felt the tears building up in my eyes. I looked down at my hands again.

"It's been a long day," I forced a chuckle, hoping to make it seem like I simply overreacting.

I heard the water run as he cleaned off his hands. He was still drying them as he made his way to me. I looked up at the sound of his footsteps. He knelt in front of me. His hands touched mine.

"I am just so tired," I said, feeling a few tears fall. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he insisted.

He leaned forward to press a kiss to my forehead.

"Burnout, while unpleasant, is becoming very common," he continued. "I will help you through it. I promise."

I nodded.

"I hope you know that there are no circumstances in which you would need to keep this from me."

I nodded again. "I know."

He leaned in and kissed my lips gently. Just enough to put my mind in a state of calmness. Enough to allow my eyes to close and my shoulders to relax.

"I love you," I mumbled as he pulled away.

"I love you too," he explained. "More than I believe words could describe."

I smiled a bit at him.

How lucky I was to have someone that made me feel as safe as he did.

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

Author's Note: That gif of Will was a choice and it was a choice that I made very carefully.

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[mxlfoydraco]

Unpopular hp opinion: snape is a good character and a terrible person. These opinions can and should coexist!

He serves to further the plot and serve as a mini antagonist that’s more relatable at school in the early years. I sincerely don’t understand the pro and anti snape tags because he may have had reasons to do things but it doesn’t excuse him (*jake Peralta voice* cool motive still murder bro). Similarly removing him from the story removes conflict necessary to drive the plot

My feelings about Snape are unpopular on both the pro and anti side. 😅

Snape was a terrible adult and there’s no excuse for his abhorrent treatment of already traumatized children, especially Neville

He was also an abused and neglected child living in poverty, literally no wonder he had anger and self-worth issues

Snape did at least trivialize his friends’ bullying of muggleborns and thought it was fun (e.g., Mulciber and Mary Macdonald)

BUT Lily also let him get away with that behavior and stuck by him knowing the crowd he was getting into, if I was a fellow muggleborn I’d resent that a lot

James took things way too far and incited the hostility between them, SWM was inexcusable. he went beyond the actual reasons Snape deserved to be criticized so much that those got glossed over

BUT Snape was actively trying to expose Remus as a werewolf, which he later did! that would not only get him kicked out but also registered to the ministry, yeah of course that’s agitating the friends who are breaking the law to protect him?? He went into the willow on a full moon while suspecting Remus was a werewolf. SIR

Also yes, I too would bully a racist classmate, sue me

Snape didn’t actually want to be a teacher and Dumbledore used his grief and regrets to keep him under his thumb until he was useful, he never had a life that was his own and maybe he could’ve become a better person if he had a chance to not get reminded of the worst moments/mistakes of his life daily yknow

He was willing to let Voldemort kill Lily’s husband and baby, the latter he went ahead and tormented knowing he was orphaned bc of his snitching for looking like his dead father also murdered bc of his snitching

That’s so cruel and petty, also disrespectful to Lily’s memory

He could have taken another path and exploring that in fanon can be fascinating! That can be done without excusing his fuck ups!! It is compelling to see such a hardened and closed off character find softness and empathy so yeah I get it!

One side ignores the circumstances that created such a bitter, resentful and lonely person and the other side acts like he’s a poor little defenseless baby who wasn’t giving it his best in return and acting a fool. like. can we find a middle ground please

I’ve been holding this in if you couldn’t tell lol bc I used to be so strict w my stance too. I find arguments from the both sides valid but the discussions get so polarized

[prettykittytanjiro]

What are your thoughts on the Kaikeyi novel? (if you have read it) because for me, it was very painful to read. Apart from the blasphemy with how they portrayed the Raghu clan (minus Kaikeyi), they also made Ravana, a literal murderer and rapist the misunderstood hero of the story and he was somehow freinds with Kaikeyi??? (spoilers im sorry). The one post I saw regarding this book on tumblr spoke of it positively when it literally misinterprets all of the characters????? Why were Kaushalya and Sumitra jealous of Kaikeyi when she first arrived??? Why was Dasharatha portrayed as pretty weak??? Not even going to touch what the author did with Rama and his brothers bro...

Hi anon

After seeing your ask, I searched it up on Google and saw like this preview- guessing you're talking about the Novel by Vaishnavi Patel

I think someone recommended it to me recently 💀

I haven't read it, but after hearing what you're saying and reading bits of the preview, I can say I have mixed feelings

(check replies for further discussion)

The style of the writing is easy to understand, definitely

I can't form opinions about it as I have not read the book, but tbf I would only have one thing to say

I think treating the novel as a different thing from the Ramayana is the best way to look at it atp- and if someone wants to form an opinion on the characters in these books, to discuss it with others and make analyses of the character as a whole and and talking about them in general- they should read the source it was derived from- in this case, the Ramayana itself

In conclusion

If a person wants to discuss it within the book, maybe, then yeah- specify you're talking about that character within the novel (and if you are, treat the character from it as a different entity from the character in the source itself (which might sound pointless and people might say like 'why didn't they use a different story then' but it's the best we can stretch it to see that it does justice to the characters in some way)) but before forming a rock solid opinion on the character as a whole- check the original sources

Basically just do your research guys 👍

After getting your ask, I most definitely am curious and will be looking into this novel more, but that's all I can say for now

Thank you for the ask, anon, ily, stay safe, healthy and hydrated :)

Alr, I'll see myself out-

[writercole]

Happy 8 years Cole!

Cast your mutuals as love interests for the different characters you write for!

OOOH These are super fun! Okay, okay. Let's see.

You are definitely with Rip Wheeler. I'm pretty sure we've discussed this as a thing previously. Rip is strong enough to handle you on your worst days and that includes sitting outside and drinking a beer beside you after a fight or offering you his jacket as you bathe in the water trough. The rugged, simple manliness is all you long for in life and the work of a ranch would be enough to keep you occupied and physically active...as Rip rails you on every surface he can.

@wildbornsiren is definitely Jason Todd's girl. Both are complex and deeply good people who just happen to have short tempers and high protective instincts when it comes to people they care about. They also both know the difficulties of anxiety and other mental spicies. When the world gets to be too much, they're the rocks and pillars of each others lives, casting protective

@ryebecca I have to say would be Joel Miller. (I'm typing up my first Joel piece as we speak.) He's soft and kind, he loves hard and he's fiercely protective. His love language is making you happy and for you, I know that's books and tea. He'd build you a house around a library with his own hands because that's how he is. And in turn, you'd read to him from your favorite Jane Austen books while playing with his hair and explaining the complexities of the work.

@blue-aconite Fe is definitely Valkyrie. A risk taker who's had her heart broken that falls for her best friend? TBB Jake Seresin would 200% take care of you in ways you never knew you needed.

@never--doubt Is Charlie Bradbury too obvious? I really feel that you and Charlie could geek out over the same kinds of things and attend all the cons and do all the RP in the world. Ineffable wives, anyone?

@dawn-petrichor-world you chaos demon, you. Happy Lowman. He's one of those gruff with everyone but his old lady types that's also incredibly chaotic. He'd be down for late night snack runs, murder, or just watching Netflix on the couch. All you have to do is bat your eyelashes and he's on his knees.

@antiquitea I know you adore Bucky Barnes BUT. Poe Dameron. He's the best pilot in the resistance, able to hit the target with precision and efficiency...repeatedly. He's great at following orders, but also giving them. And you never have to worry about him being with anyone else. Have you seen the way BB-8 tells on him? Well, maybe there's one other person you have to worry about. But how have you never considered Finn before? Maybe a throuple is in your cards.

@nepenthe-raes-affairs is a soft sub for Wanda Maximoff. You cannot convince me otherwise. Like, no notes.

@fuckyeahhangman Billy Butcher. Once he finally lets go of Rebecca, he's able to see you for what you are - a beautiful warrior, someone who refuses to back down from a challenge, and someone who will call him on his shit. Beard burn has never felt so good.

@princessmisery666 Hands down I ship you with Opie Winston. He's a giant teddy bear that oozes sex. He'll manhandle the fuck out of you in bed and then treat you like a queen outside. Yeah, his relationship with Donna was rocky but they made it work, just like you'd make it work. Lila was just a distraction, as much as I love her.

@imjess-themess Miguel "Fanboy" Garcia. He's soft and sweet and knows you inside and out. He picks up on your change in demeanor when you're having a bad day and will shield you from anyone and everyone that he needs

[the-kittens-of-vol-tron]

Sorry for the weird format! I accidently posted it before I was ready so I had to delete it :(

So this took forever bc I wanted to do it justice

TW: Discussion of murder, crime scenes, blood, minor character death

Won’t be too graphic but still

I used a random name generator for the victims!!!

This was beta read by the lovely @themerrygothic <3

-----

Keith ducked under the yellow caution tape, pulling his jacket a bit tighter around him. “What’s the situation?” he asked as Hunk moved to greet him. 

Hunk flipped his notebook open.” One dead, male, roughly age 37. Looks as if he was shot in the head. Enter through the front of the skull and out the back. One shot.”

They made their way toward the crime scene, “any witness?” 

“A couple heard the shot but no one saw the actual murder.” 

Keith nodded, “does our John Doe have a name?” He stopped a couple of feet away from the body, being mindful of the cones marking evidence. 

“Kurt Dola, which he was known for-” 

“Kidnapping.” 

Hunk nodded, “yeah.” 

Keith took a deep breath, letting the frigid air burn his lungs slightly. This was the third murder in 3 months. The third person to be killed that had a violent criminal background that the law couldn’t get their hands on. 

“Detectives!” Their attention snapped towards Matt, their forensic photographer, as he waved them over. 

“What did you find?” Keith questioned, taking a couple of steps toward his colleague. 

Matt pointed towards the ground, a cone yet to be placed by it. 

“Another one?!” Hunk said. 

Keith kneeled to the ground, staring at a blue bullet with a crimson red on it. 

They were officially dealing with a serial killer. 

---

“Wake up!” Lance snapped his fingers in front of Keith, causing the other boy to blink out of his daze. 

“I’m awake,” he snapped back, his anger dissipating as Lance placed a cup of coffee in front of him. 

“You sure? What time did you come home last night?” Lance adjusted his shirt, buttoning his cuffs around his wrist. 

“I don’t know, like 4 am.” Keith took a sip of his coffee, closing his eyes at the taste. 

Lance scoffed, “then why are you going into the office at 9 am?” 

Keith looked at his roommate, “it’s my job.” 

“Okay but your brother, you know, the chief, wouldn’t care if you were a little late. Especially when you’re being called in super late at night.” 

“Yeah, but,” he looked at the black liquid in his mug. He technically wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about the case, or the very recent development. But Lance was his best friend, maybe more than a friend. They had been friends since middle school; he told him everything. 

“We’re officially dealing with a serial killer.” 

“What?! How do you know?” 

Keith sighed. He was tired. When was the last time he got a proper night's sleep? Not since the first murder all those months back, the murder that still wasn’t solved. And now he had two more to solve on top of it; all by the same person. Or at least that’s what it looked like. 

“The three victims all have a history of crimes. People we,” meaning the police department, “have been trying to catch but haven’t been able to.” 

“Could be a coincidence.” Lance shrugged, making his own cup of coffee in his to-go mug. 

“Yeah...but each victim was killed the same way. Shot through the head, entering from the front and a blue bullet.” 

“A blue bullet? Don’t see that in the movies.” He placed the lid on his cup. 

Keith released a dry chuckle, “no you don’t.” 

“Well,” Lance leaned against their kitchen counter, “that seems like a lot. I thought the first two would stay just unsolved, not progress to this.” 

Keith nodded. 

Lance looked down at his wristwatch, “I do have to get to work. Don’t want to keep Allura waiting,” he grabbed his bag and placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder, “don’t work yourself into the ground. Take a day off if you need.” He pressed a small kiss to Keith’s forehead, “and I won’t tell anyone about the case. See you later, Red!” He left the apartment, leaving a still silence. 

Keith touched his forehead gently, where Lance kissed him. He said they were friends but in reality, anyone would say they were dating. They lived together, shared bills, and shared a bed. Sometimes a pet name would slip out. Lance didn’t shy away from planting kisses on his skin, either. 

Keith sighed and stood from where he sat at the kitchen bar. Neither of them liked labels so for now, they were just friends. 

---

“Detective Kogane! Why are you here?” Matt asked as soon as he walked through the door. 

“Am I not supposed to be?” He slumped down at his desk, wishing he asked Lance to make him one more cup of coffee before he left. 

“Well...Shay said Hunk would be in late since he got home so late.” 

Keith shrugged, “he’s got a family to take care of. I don’t.” 

“You have Lance.” 

“And he’s at work. I wasn’t going to spend the day sitting at home all by myself.” 

Matt opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by his younger sibling. “Keith, good thing you’re here. I finished analyzing your victim.” They placed a cream color folder down on his desk. 

Keith opened the folder, quickly scanning their findings. “Same as the other two?” 

Pidge nodded, “no poison, no other injuries, just a gunshot to the head.” 

“Always facing their victim.” 

"Precisely.”

He closed the folder, leaning back in his chair and propping his head in his left hand. “Thank you.” 

Pidge nodded, “we can catch them, Keith.” 

He nodded, “just a game of cat and mouse.”  

---

“Lance! This is beautiful!” Allura clasped her hands in front of herself in awe. 

“Thank you,” he stepped back and looked at the dress he had spent the last month working on. “Do you think our client will like it?” 

Allura nodded her head, taking a step forward to gently touch the shimmery fabric. “You really outdid yourself.” 

Lance felt himself blush at the compliment. “Aw you flatter me, princess.” 

She chuckled, “for real. And you finished it with time to spare. Very impressive, oh I can’t wait to show Lotor and Romelle.” 

Lance grinned, stifling a yawn with his hand. “Sorry.” 

“Didn’t get much sleep last night?” Allura questioned, giving him a knowing look. 

Lance shrugged his shoulders, “Keith was out all night, you know I can’t sleep when he’s out.” It wasn’t too much of a lie. He cared deeply for Keith, he was hesitant to call it love but it probably was.

 He couldn’t sleep the same night he committed a murder. It had been like that since the first killing. 

The first night he killed someone Keith didn’t get called out right away. The body wasn’t found until the next morning. So Lance was able to lay in bed all night, Keith tangled in his arms. Enjoying the silence of the night despite his inability to sleep. 

The second victim, Keith was called right away; only an hour since Lance had come home. He usually came home from work before Keith, and his murders were clean. He didn’t have much in terms of cleaning; just hiding his things.

Last night, Lance was just walking up the stairs to their apartment; he was stupid to fire his gun around so many people. He knew no one saw him, or if they did there were no details they could give. He needed to make sure the next victim was found later.

Allura gave him a sympathetic smile, “you care about him, don’t you?” 

Lance nodded, keeping his attention on the dress in front of him. “Let’s go show the others.” 

---

“What do we want to call them?” Adam asked, leaning against the wall of Shiro’s office. 

“Blue seems to be his color,” Shiro said, his eyes looking over the collection of evidence he requested. 

“We could just call him ‘Blue,’” Keith suggested. 

Adam bobbed his head slightly, “simple.” 

Shiro sighed, clearly feeling overwhelmed. Nobody wanted this situation. They were hesitant at the second murder but they hoped it wouldn’t turn into this. 

“Do we have anything on the killer?” 

Adam and Keith shook their heads, “nothing. No one has actually seen the killer. Just finding the bodies or most recently, hearing the shots.” 

“Damn it,” Shiro sunk into his chair, rubbing his eyes. “I want every available detective on this case.” He paused, rubbing his fingers together, “I want this person caught before they kill again.” 

---

Two months had passed since that day, and there were two more murders. Once a month. They still had nothing on the killer: no gender, no name, no height or other characteristics, nothing. 

Just blue bullets without serial numbers from an unknown gun. 

No fingerprints were ever found, the scene was never altered, and there was never a sign of a struggle; just a dead body with blood. 

It was as if this person appeared out of thin air and evaporated. 

“Take off your coat and sit on the couch,” Lance said as Keith walked through the front door. 

“What?” 

Lance looked at him with a soft expression, “I’m giving you a massage.”

Keith chuckled slightly, “no you’re not.” 

“Come onnnnn,” Lance whined. “You’ve been working so hard, let me help you relax.” 

Keith didn’t respond, just focused on slipping his shoes off. “I’m okay.” 

“Keith.” 

He stepped into the kitchen, “you’ve been taking care of everything. Cooking, cleaning, laundry. You need to relax.” 

Lance rolled his eyes, “I’m not trying to solve an unsolvable case.” 

Keith looked at the ground. “It’s my job.” 

Lance made a sound of displeasure, “and it’s my job to make fancy designer clothes and,” Lance lifted Keith’s face with his pointer finger. Making him look into his blue eyes. “Take care of you. You haven’t been relaxed in months. It’s not good for your health. And I don’t mind taking care of the house, I just want you to come home and relax. Nothing else.” 

Keith nodded, unable to form any proper sentences. 

Lance pressed a soft kiss onto his lips, “go sit, I’ll be right out with a glass of wine.” 

“Okay.” Keith obeyed and moved to the couch, sliding his jacket off in the process. His mind circled on how blue Lance’s eyes were.

---

“Shit,” Lance pressed his hand to his side, trying to catch the blood that threatened to fall to the ground. He felt an uncomfortable laugh form in his chest. He knew his luck would run out after nine months, one of these guys would eventually have a weapon. 

At least the bullet only grazed him.

He slid his gun into his belt behind his back, moving to pick up the bullet that was lodged in the wall behind him. It took some time, but he eventually managed to wiggle it out, placing it in his pocket.

He turned to look at his victim who lay motionless on the ground. Even if his new injury was going to make things difficult, he didn’t regret what he did. He took another criminal off the streets. Another person who found joy in hurting others. 

He left the scene quickly, this took longer than needed. He did his best to move without wincing or groaning in pain. He would have to patch himself up when he got home; for once he would be happy if the body was found quickly. 

“I’m home,” he opened the apartment door, revealing a flustered Keith. 

“Where have you been?” Keith rushed forward, pulling him in for a crushing hug. 

Lance bite his inner cheek, trying to ignore how his vision swam with pain. “Traffic.”

Keith held him for a bit longer before pulling back some. He looked Lance over a couple of times. “I heard over the radio that a younger male with tan skin was found dead not even a block from where you work. Shiro told me to stay put while he sent others out to the scene. I was going to leave in a couple of minutes-” 

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” Lance cupped his face, trying to calm the other boy. “I’m okay. I’m here.” 

Keith leaned into his touch, “okay.” 

His phone vibrated on the counter and Keith reluctantly moved away to answer it. “Shiro, he’s home, it wasn’t- what?!” Keith was frozen as he listened to what his brother was saying, “I’m on my way.” He ended the call, his body shaking slightly. 

“What happened?” 

Keith looked at Lance, seeming to remember he was in the room. “The...the body found. It was done by Blue.” 

Lance nodded, “okay.” 

“I have to go, it’s my case.” 

“I know, I’ll be here all night.” 

Keith grunted as he quickly moved to grab his things, coming up behind Lance to hug him one more time. “I’ll be back before you leave for work tomorrow.” 

“Okay, be safe.” 

As soon as the door clicked close Lance let himself fall on the counter for support. He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath before he dragged himself to the bathroom and fumbled for the first aid kit under the sink. 

---

Keith stood outside the door, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Lance would have texted him if he was running late. They had lived together for over five years and Lance always texted him. 

He pressed his hand to his abdomen. Something had dug into him as he hugged Lance goodbye. Something that felt like metal. 

---

“We got something!” Pidge bolted towards his desk, ignoring how Adam glared at them for screaming so loud in the morning. 

“What did you find?” Keith asked as he rubbed his eyes; he and the rest of the team pulled an all-nighter. This scene was different. A table was knocked over and there was a bullet hole in the wall. No bullet was found, except the signature blue one, but the victim had fought back. It wasn’t as simple and collected as the other crime scenes. 

Either Blue was slacking or he ended up taking someone he wasn’t ready for. 

“Those drops of blood we found didn’t belong to our victim.”

Hunk, Adam, and Keith collectively made a noise that was a mix of excitement and confusion.

“So that means,” Hunk said, trailing off in thought. 

“It could have come from Blue.” Adam finished. 

“Run that DNA through every database you can, see if we can get a match.” 

“Already on it Keith!” Pidge said as they headed down to their office. 

Keith smiled to himself. They finally, after nine months, had a lead. 

---

“We found some DNA that didn’t match the victim,” Keith said as he slid into bed next to Lance. 

Lance felt his blood go cold. He didn’t leave the scene without a trace this time. “Did you find a match for it?” He kept his eyes trained toward the outfit he was working on, ignoring the dull ache in his side. 

“Nothing so far, we’ll see if anything pops up in the morning.” Keith leaned over and planted a small kiss on Lance’s cheek, placing his hand above his waist.  Lance sucked in a quick breath, trying to mask in under a chuckle as he pulled away. 

“Sorry red, maybe another night. I need to get this design done.” 

“Okay...goodnight. Don’t stay up too late.” Keith moved to lie down, rolling onto his side so his back was to the other boy. 

Lance hummed in response, his fingers blending the color on the page. 

Keith closed his eyes. Lance was hurt. He had found some wrappers in the trashcan that seemed to be quickly covered by other trash, as if Lance was trying to hide them. Lance always told Keith about his injuries, especially if they needed a bandage. He would demand him to kiss every injury no matter how small. So what was Lance doing that he’d get hurt and not tell Keith?

---

It had been a year, a year since the first murder. Except for those couple of drops of blood, they found nothing from their killer. And of course, the blood didn't trace back to anyone in the systems so it was basically a dead end. 

It didn’t lower Keith’s suspicion that Lance could be the killer. He hated that he even thought that Lance could be Blue but he couldn’t ignore the evidence that stacked up over the months. 

Lance came home late a couple of times there was a murder, never telling Keith he was going to be late but his reason was always the same; traffic. His aversion to being touched right around the time they found the blood from Blue. That metal object that dug into him when he hugged Lance. How he would always ask Keith for details or what the “next move” was. 

The color blue. 

Keith kept his thoughts to himself. He didn’t even tell Shiro his suspicion; he honestly thought he was crazy. Lance was the kindest person he had ever met, he hated killing bugs for crying out loud. He was gentle, passionate, friendly, and soft. He couldn’t be a killer, let alone a serial killer...could he? 

“Jack Huseby.” 

Keith blinked, “what?” 

“That’s the name of our latest victim. Ring a bell?” Shiro asked as he glanced at the paper. 

Keith shook his head no, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. He knew that name. He said that name the other night. Specifically, he said it to Lance. 

Jack was under suspicion for abusing children, he had mentioned in passing to Lance. To his understanding, no one in the department had been told about him yet. It was something Kolivan, a higher-up, said over lunch. He was sending the assignment to another precinct after Keith declined due to this never-ending case. 

“You okay Keith? You look like you saw a ghost.” Adam waved his hand in front of his face. 

“Umm...I need to go home.” He began to grab his things, trying to ignore the shake in his limbs. 

“Hang on,” Shiro stopped him, “let me drive you home. You’re shaking too much to operate a vehicle. 

Keith didn’t argue, he just needed to get home before Lance did. He wanted to prove that he was actually crazy and Lance was still...Lance. Not some killer. 

He found himself throwing the house apart, opening every cabinet and dresser in the apartment. He found nothing. He borderline flipped the couch over, checking under the bed, under the sink, above the shower- he froze. A tile shifted. 

He pushed one the tile again, shaking a bit as it easily slid out of its place. He pushed it to the side, standing on his tippy toes to feel in the darkness. His fingers touched something cool, something metal. 

No. He wrapped his fingers around the object, pulling it down into the light. 

It was a silver gun with blue accents, not a serial number in sight. He slid the magazine out, feeling his knees shake as he looked at the signature blue bullets all lined up. 

He nearly fell off the toilet, which he was standing on for height when a small 'tck' sound was created behind him. He twisted around quickly, his eyes falling on Lance who had a neutral expression. 

“Oh red, why did you go looking? I told you all you had to do when you were home was relax.” 

Keith couldn’t move. He could hardly breathe. His emotions were running around his head, he didn’t know what to say. “Lance.”

Lance smiled at him, taking a step closer, “yeah, Red?” 

Keith stepped off the toilet, his back flush against the sink. “Tell me I’m dreaming.” 

Lance didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move closer either.

Keith felt tears form in his eyes, “Lan-ce please,” he took a shaky breath. Even if he had his suspicions he never wanted to be right. 

“You’re not dreaming.” 

“Wh-why are you ho-ome?” Keith managed to blubber out. 

“Shiro called me, said you were sick,” another step. “I wanted to come check on you, make sure you weren’t being too curious,” he reached the doorway to the bathroom, “seems I was too late.” 

Lance was calm, too calm for someone who was just caught. Unless he didn’t think Keith would tell anyone. Keith felt himself stop breathing. He didn’t expect Keith to escape this. Dead men can’t talk. 

“Why? Why did you do this?!” 

Lance chuckled slightly, “because you didn’t. Because no one in the precinct could actually catch these people. People who hurt others for fun, for their enjoyment. And if no one could catch them and lock them up, well...I decided to take matters into my own hands.” 

Lance leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed. “I only killed people who deserved it, Keith, does that really make me the bad guy?” 

Keith didn’t know what to say. He felt bile move up his throat as his body was forced to acknowledge what he was being told. 

Lance took another step, reaching out to gently touch Keith’s cheek. “I really don’t want to hurt you.” He looked at him with a soft gaze, a gaze he reserved for nights they spent together. 

“But?” 

Lance chuckled softly, “but I know you won’t let this go. I know you’ll turn me in and I’ll be locked up while others will be able to roam. Able to still hurt others.” 

Keith licked his lips with nerves, trying to figure out how to go about this situation. He somehow was backed into a corner when he thought he had the upper hand. 

Lance moved slowly, his touch achingly soft as he allowed his fingers to dance over Keith’s skin. 

Keith wanted to lean into the touch, he wanted to sink into Lance’s arms like he did every day. He didn’t want to process any of this. 

Lance slipped the gun out of his hands, holding it against Keith’s forehead with a somber look. “I really didn’t want to look you in the eyes but,” he cocked a bullet into the chamber, “shooting from the front is what I’m known for.” Lance used his free hand to tuck a strand of Keith's hair behind his ear. “I love you.” His finger hovered over the trigger. “I have for years.” 

“Wait!”

-----

Ohhhh how did it go?? Did someone else say wait?? Was Lance caught???? Oh the possibilities

Idk who you are but THANK YOU FOR THIS!!!!!

I really hope I did this idea justice I was so happy to write it (in a weird way, I’ve always been obsessed with crime shows)

Thank you for reading <3333