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realcube · 3 years

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Ok but hc for what type of girl the pretty setter squad+yamaguchi they would date.

Thanks and have a nice day!💖🥺

yes!! i love the pretty setter squad but like i don’t have too many hcs to make this a whole thing so i feel like the following title is necessary:

characters: pretty setter squad + yamaguchi

trigger warning: swearing, somewhat crack, sexual references (these are just my opinions/hcs btw - plz don’t take it too seriously)

tobio kageyama

♡ i will preach this till the day i die and ik y’all are probably tired of writing all my reader inserts for kageyama x reader one-shots like this but yk what tobio wants- you know what tobio needs and deserves- the female equivalent of oikawa tōru

♡ if her favourite food ain’t milk bread and her personal motto isn’t ‘if you’re gonna hit it then it it till it breaks’ then HE DOESN’T WANT IT /j

♡ but he’d like someone who cares about their appearance, is passionate about something like he is, fairly smart, witty and kinda a heartthrob

♡ bonus points if it’s a sport that they are passionate about

♡ i feel like he’d be into just like a typical ‘girly girl’ yk?

♡ also he has a soft spot for acrylic nails- he just thinks they look so cool and if he saw yours he’d definitely call them ‘badass’

♡ he thinks they are kinda impractical for volleyball so that’s why he doesn’t get them himself (plus they are expensive as hell and he only has milk box money)

♡ so yeah he would date an oikawa kinnie

♡ overall, i think he just wants someone independent who can take care of themselves

♡ except when you can’t open the tab of your coke bc of your acrylics, then he is happy to help

tadashi yamaguchi

♡ i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again; YAMAGUCHI IS A LESBIAN

♡ ok now that i’ve got your attention, let me explain what this means and what it has to do with this taste in girls

♡ he fell down the wlw pipeline- if that’s a thing

♡ like while the gang were watching sjw get rekt compilations, yamaguchi was watching hayley kiyoko music videos and lgbt short films on youtube-

♡ now imagine that scene were babey yamaguchi was getting bullied except they were teasing him bc he said his favourite song was girls like girls RGTYGJKMN

♡ anyway, till this day, he is watching cottagecore lesbian tiktoks (minecraft and irl) while others watch ben shapiro it is such a shame

♡ he doesn’t fetishize them though- it’s just his ideal lifestyle

♡ he’s developed the mind of a wlw tho so i think his thoughts are similar to mine in a way that he’s just like ‘WOMEN 😍🥰💓’ all the time 24/7

♡ so yeah this was my elongated way of saying that yamaguchi doesn’t really have type, all women are queens in his eyes

♡ but in an ideal world, his s/o would be an ally of the lgbtq+ community, if not apart of it, stan any wlw singer/band (preferably kpop), won’t yell at him 🥺 and are willing to run away with him to a cottage in the woods at any given moment

kōshi sugawara

♡ his taste isn’t very specific but here are some things he looks for in partner:

♡ either likes baking or likes eating what he bakes and giving him feedback

♡ has long eyelashes/wears lashes (he thinks they are cute and ik you do too don’t even lie)

♡ oh and shiny lipgloss too

♡ very good communicator 😌

♡ a simp

♡ someone who likes gardening or is at least willing to try pick it up to help him with his herbs

♡ will do facemasks with him

♡ intelligence; he will literally bust a nut for someone who can recite newton’s third law of motion 😩

♡ and honesty ✨ (bc he needs to be told when his hair looks wack plz)

kenma kuzome

♡ plz he needs a catgirl

♡ like your typical anime catgirl

♡ bushy tail, high + soft voice, big eyes, even bigger honkers, maybe a tsundere, cat ears, purs and gives good head ✨

♡...

♡ I WAS JUST INFORMED THAT CAT GIRLS DO NOT EXIST AND I AM BOTH DISGUSTED AND DISAPPOINTED BEYOND BELIEF

♡ me and kenma are never leaving our rooms again istg what is even the point anymore if ik that i won’t meet a catgirl 😭

♡ so yeah, if he were to date someone who isn’t a cat girl, they’d probably have to be a human equivalent or like.. a gamer

♡ a streamer maybe

tōru oikawa

♡ he also doesn’t have a specific type but here are some of his turn offs:

♡ kageyama tobio

♡ kageyama tobio kinnies

♡ people who think he’s too obsessed with volleyball and is incapable of loving anything/anyone else

♡ laziness

♡ ppl who’ve got a FAT fucking ass 😡 (jealousy ofc)

♡ ushijima stans

♡ bad breath 🤢

♡ppl who don’t know every word of primadonna girl by marina

♡ horse girls

♡ aries (he’d still date an aries but he will tease you for it. if you ever mess something up like you drop a glass and it spills water everywhere he’ll just side-eye you like ‘that’s classic aries behaviour, ofc’)

keiji akaashi

♡ you

♡ literally you

♡ he doesn’t have a type but if he did, it would be you

♡ bc you’re reading hcs on tumblr rn and as yk, he’s a bookworm

♡ (and i believe wholeheartedly that he read fanfic/hcs on tumblr too. probably harry potter/hunger games)

♡ and also you’re reading his hcs which means you like him and he’s lost himself to unrequited love too many times so at least he knows you’re interested

♡ so yeah you check all the boxes:

☑ fanfic reader/bookworm

☑ watches anime

☑ pretty

☑ sweet

☑ actually likes him

eita semi

♡ big tiddy goth gf with thick eyeliner, dyed hair and chains

♡ big tiddy isn’t necessary - he doesn’t objectify women ✨

♡ but anyway, they should also be willing to step on his throat and break all his bones with their demonias, upon being asked politely

♡ spit in his mouth plz 🙏

♡ also an elite music is a must for him

♡ oh! and they should be willing to share their clothes/accessories with him (he’ll share his too ofc)

♡ a few other things he likes are: piercings, those little eyeliner hearts under the eyes, pink blush, thick eyebrows, black/dark purple lipstick, guitarist, drummers, singers (literally any sort of musician), platform shoes, alternative fashion in general, ppl who do DIYs, ppl who sew & ppl who cut/dye their own hair

♡ oh and like suga he is a slut for intelligence

♡ and for powerful/confident women !!

♡ don’t get that confused with financial power-

♡ like proper powerful ppl that flick off a bigot on sight

#tobio x you #oikawa toru x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi headcanons #kenma x y/n #semi eita #yamaguchi x reader #sugawara imagine #sugawara headcanon #tobio headcanons #oikawa headcanons #eita x reader #kenma headcanons #kenma x you #yamaguchi headcanons #pretty setter squad #notenoughcube

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inkrabbit · 3 years

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A Day at the Beach - Dan x Richard

I don't wanna talk about this. It's currently 3:20am and I was talking about this pairing in my little group chat. It's shit, because it wasn't planned at all and I'm tired, but here we are. Y'all aren't getting a summary, either.

Word count: 3,034

Mersea Island, Essex

It had been a long time coming, operatives saying how they wanted to go an actual beach and maybe spend the night. Anything to get away from the chaos in London, saying they all needed a vacation of some sort. Of course there were some operatives who were reluctant to agree to the idea, saying they didn't feel comfortable leaving when there was still so much to do, but they finally came around when harassed enough, agreeing to spending one night before they had to come back home.

So here Richard sat in the back seat of the car Lorcan had “borrowed”, music blaring and the man spouting outrageous tales. He see Dan in the passenger seat, a smile on his face as he shakes his head. He's entertaining his friend's stories, and also glancing down at his phone to make sure they're still on the right track to the beach.

“She fuckin' made boxty and then threw it at me!” The time Richard tunes in, he's completely lost, brows furrowing as he catches the end of the statement. Boxty? He catches Dan laughing, and he can even see Jeremy's lips curl into a smile, the younger man having been seated on the other side of the car.

“Did you still eat it?” Eat it? He wondered what kind of food it was. Maybe it was just an Irish thing?

“Of course I ate it! Not gonna let that go to waste!” He knew this was going to be an adventure in itself. He had seen Lorcan's energy in the safehouse more times than he could count, the man always pestering someone and trying to find a drinking buddy.

He could never really forget the first time the older man had approached him, a friendly smile on his face as he started a conversation. Nothing too big, just asking how he was settling in with the group and if he had any problems. Even if Richard had any sort of bad blood with the other operatives, he wouldn't make it known. But when the Irishman had offered him to go drinking, he nearly choked on his coffee. It had been so long since someone had left him speechless, and his hesitation was enough for Dan to walk over and shoo his friend away. He told Richard to ignore him, that Lorcan's innocent little invitation was more trouble than it was worth considering the man would get lost easily when drunk and wander off like a child. Richard would never admit it, but a small part of him actually liked the idea of spending time with DedSec.

Maybe that's why he was here now, stuck in a car with the group's trio and headed for the beach. Back then, he would've cringed at the thought of being seen with any of the operatives, but now? Well, it wasn't so bad. He supposed they grew on him, their friendly banter and family-like connection. Did he long for that normal lifestyle? Where he had people he felt like he could finally confide in and converse with? Or perhaps he just his old life before Zero-Day and DedSec came into the picture, working his job at SIRS and indulging in the odd party Emma Child threw, though it was normally all business. Emma... He had tried to forget her name and her existence, a pang of guilt always cementing itself in the pit of his stomach. Back then, he believed what he was doing was right, and to this day he still did. But did he have to go that far?

The rest of the drive to the beach is filled with stories from the other men. Lorcan tries asking Richard for some stories of his own, but he declines. What would he tell them, anyway? His mind drew a blank when the request left the man's lips anyway. He tries to listen to the chatter now, wanting something else to focus on while they got closer to their destination. Lorcan spoke of mischief he got into when he was younger, and Dan shares his own story of being picked up by the police trying to hotwire a car. He notices how Jeremy stays quiet, and when one of the men ask him why, he simply tells them. “Didn't have the happiest childhood. I stayed alone.” Fair enough. Richard found himself actually understanding. After his father's passing, he threw any sort of social life out the window and locked himself in his room.

When the car finally stops, the sun is high in the sky and Richard is stretching his limbs, feeling his joints pop. It felt good to stretch, and the cool breeze coming from the ocean was heavenly. It had been so long since he had been here. The last time he had gone to a beach was with coworkers who had suckered him in to tagging along. It was funny how history repeats itself, but could he even call DedSec his coworkers? He supposed so, he did work alongside them ever since they had released him from that makeshift cell. Seeing everyone exit the cars, bringing out coolers and everything else is a pleasant sight. It's almost surreal. After everything that's happened, the group finally looks... normal.

He follows them to down to the sand, everyone picking out a spot and laying down their towels. Franklin had been nice enough to set Richard up with his own little spot, just a bit away from everyone else. He appreciated it. The group had made him a tiny bit nervous, still worried they would eventually snap and lash out at him. He takes a seat on the towel, legs crossed as he watches the others. Some are starting up a game of volleyball, while others are making their way into the water. He notices some of the operatives stay behind. He can see Franklin and Edmund chatting away, occasionally sharing a small kiss or nuzzling the other's cheek. It wasn't often he saw people so affectionate with one another, especially in the group.

A little farther away, however, he can see Dan sitting on a towel, legs crossed and hunched over a book. It's a surprise, to say the least. The once cheerful face is replaced with nothing, the stoic expression seeming so foreign. Glancing back at the ocean, he can see Lorcan picking up Jeremy and tossing him back into the water. He assumed Dan would've joined them, or at the very least, Jeremy would've been the one sitting out.

He spends the day relaxing, finally laying down on the towel and basking in the warmth of the sun, the cool breeze occasionally sending a shiver up his spine. He wonders what the little beach cottages will look like inside. He knew some operatives had grouped together to save money. He wasn't exactly sure who he would be staying with, having stayed out of the conversation and assuming he wouldn't even accompany the group at all. Maybe he would ask when time drew near?

Some operatives had come up to check on him, and Rebecca had even invited him to play volleyball with them. It was sweet that they tried to include him, but he declined. He still felt awkward partaking in activities with them, weary tension thick around the group (or was that all just in his mind?). He still watches them, however, taking this time to get to know their quirks. The way they move, how they each have a unique look while concentrating. It was amazing how they all seemed more open when they weren't cramped in the safehouse.

As the sun slowly starts going down, he agrees to help Dan make a bonfire. He had collected the stones, forming a decently large circle and using the wood brought back. Lorcan had become antsy, pouring some whiskey onto the wood and using his lighter to start the fire. It wasn't something Richard would do in a thousand years, but it had worked and warm air made him feel better. He sits in the sand with his legs propped up, elbows resting on his knees as he takes in the soft chatter of the group. They're all telling stories, ranging from jobs they've done to crazy antics they've gotten up to in the past. Franklin tells them some tales from Albion, while Edmund settles on a fight he had somehow won after taking to tabs of acid. Richard zones out here and there, focused on the fire and crackling wood. He almost doesn't realize how long they've been sitting there until a chill runs up his spine and a few operatives are saying goodnight. He joins in in wishing them farewell, and finally pays attention to the rest of the stories told.

One by one, the group around the bonfire slowly dwindles as people retire for the night. By the time the moon's high in the sky and the air's becoming more chilly, Richard is only left with the Irishmen. He had seen Jeremy's head droop here and there, eyes lidded as he listened to Lorcan's drunken rambling. It's not long until the younger man is finally standing up, stretching his limbs and saying goodnight to the three. Lorcan follows right after, whining about how he didn't want to be locked out for the night. He assumed the two were sharing the same cottage.

His eyes flicker to Dan. He hadn't been as talkative as he was in the car, staring into the fire and only occasionally joining in the conversation. The silence is almost deafening between them. For some reason, it felt odd. Had he gotten used to the chatter of the group?

“What were you reading?” Richard finally asks, catching the man's attention. He looks at him, just for a bit, until he raises the book and shows him the cover. The Ghost Map. Ah, some London history. He smiles at it. “Didn't know you read.”

“Little hobby I picked up,” he responds, setting the book back down. “What about you? You read?”

“Here and there. I've always been busy with work,” he confesses. When was the last time he had actually finished a book? He couldn't remember. “Was that your plan? Just to read?”

“Ah, pretty much. Not feelin' too energetic today.”

“I assumed you would've been swimming the others,” This pulls a reaction from the man. He lowers his gaze, hazel eyes staring at the fire.

“Don't really like the others seein' me scars,” Richard raises his eyebrows at this. He wasn't aware of any scars, never seeing any on the man. Then again, he normally walked around with a jacket on, and he even wore a shirt all day while out. “Don't like seein' 'em meself. Just brings up bad memories.”

“How did you get them?” He regrets it as soon as the question leaves his mouth, but Dan doesn't give him a chance to take it back.

“Prison, mostly,” he confesses, “Some from the army, but only a couple.”

Right, he was still on parole if he remembered correctly. He had skimmed through Dan's file, curious about the headstrong man, but he didn't want to admit it. He swallows thickly, but curiosity gets the better of him.

“Why? I mean, why be sent to prison?” There's a pause, but it doesn't last long.

“Beat the shite out of my lieutenant,” Well he wasn't hiding anything, that was for sure. He wasn't sugarcoating it either. “Nearly killed him. Then while in prison, I ended up killing an inmate for bein' a cunt.”

“And that added on to your sentence?”

“Aye, by a year. Used to read all the time after they moved me. Fought so many people there they had to keep me by meself.”

“Christ, you were that bad?”

“Sometimes it was to defend meself, sometimes I was defending someone else. Hated the fucks who picked on smaller inmates.”

“You... really protected other inmates?”

“'Course. 'S why I protect London. I'm just... happier doin' this.”

Well, he hadn't expected that. He never really considered why Dan had fought so much, but he managed to get some stories out of him. Abusive childhood with a father who didn't accept his youngest son. He supposed Dan had just gotten into the habit of protecting his younger brother from their father. He couldn't say he shared the same experience, but he does finally tell his own stories. A neglectful and overbearing mother, how he had lost his father at a young age and hid away from the world. He even tells him about his own time in the navy, and the man looks surprised when he mentions his own prison sentence.

He's not sure when, but the two of them have finally moved closer together, knees brushing against each other as the fire finally dwindles out. It felt nice to talk, and he was pleasantly surprised at how open Dan was. Any question he asked him, the man would answer with no hesitation. What books he read, what music he listened to, how well he did in school, anything he could think of. In return, Dan would ask him questions as well. What the navy was like, if he truly liked SIRS, what he went to college for. He had hesitated at first, but after a few questions, he finally felt relaxed enough to answer without having to think so hard.

When he finally starts to yawn, the two agree to go to bed. Putting out the fire, they walk across the beach, Dan confessing they would be sharing a cottage together. Apparently the group had agreed both would do well together, seeming to have a mutual want for their own space. The inside is nice and cozy, and Richard decides to let Dan take a shower first. He sits down on the bed, rubbing his eyes and stretching. It wasn't an eventual day, but he would admit it was nice to get out of the safehouse. He had been trapped in there, even after his release, sleeping awkwardly on the couch. He was honestly excited to finally sleep in a normal bed.

Richard's almost surprised when Dan exits the bathroom, his shirt gone and his scars showing. Some were older than others, and he was surprised when he noticed a scar in almost the exact same spot he had one. On the left side of his torso, just missing any organs. Dan doesn't even look in his general direction as he runs the towel through his hair in an attempt to dry it. Standing up, he decides to leave him on his own and take his own shower.

The steam hits him and sends a shiver up his spine. The water in the shower is still warm as his feet make contact with the droplets, hand gripping the silver lever and twisting. The water feels amazing, and he takes just a bit longer than normal as he relishes in it. The silence, the warmth, the feeling of the water hitting his skin. For the first time in a while, he finally feels truly relaxed, his eyes slipping shut. The only thing that makes him move in the exhaustion that finally hits.

Turning off the water, he steps out of the shower, drying himself off. He buries his face in the towel for a bit, his mind buzzing. It was all still so surreal. He felt like any moment he would wake up from a dream, still trapped in his cell with no way out. Looking up, he's almost relieved to still see the bathroom door in front of him. He runs his hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth it out after he's finished getting dressed. Setting the towel on the counter, he flicks off the lights and opens the door. To his surprise, Dan is already laying in bed and fast asleep. He tries to be as quiet as he can as he walks over, admiring the man in the dim light. His arm is hanging out of the blankets, his face in a slight scowl. Slowly reaching out, he runs a hand through the man's damp hair, watching his features relax. It amazed him at how similar they were, at least with their past. Pulling back, he crosses over and sit on the edge of his bed, rubbing his face with his hands.

“You ever touch me without me permission again,” Dan suddenly grumbles out, “and I'll break your fuckin' hand.”

“Oh, stop being a child,” he scoffs, though a small smirk crosses his lips. “I'm sure that's the first time in a while you've gotten any sort of affection anyway.”

There's shuffling and Dan finally sits up, staring at him. There's a look in his eyes, challenging and confident.

“Ya wanna touch me so bad?” he purrs out, “Come and give me a kiss.”

He's stunned, throat running dry as the Irishman holds his gaze. He's grinning, but it's not joy. Oh no, he's grinning because he thinks Richard is going back down. And he might have if he still wasn't upset with the attitude he had to endure during their meetings before Zero-Day was stopped. No way in hell he would let the man have something else to bring up.

Pushing himself off the bed, he crosses over once more. His actions are quick, worried if he took his time, he would change his mind. He grabs the man's face, fingers running through his beard as he bends down, pressing his lips against his. It doesn't last long before both pull away, and Richard laughs at the horrified expression on Dan's face.

“I'm not one to turn down a challenge,” he tells him softly, patting his cheek before returning to his bed. He slips underneath the covers and lays on his side, listening to the soft rustling noises. He's not expecting it when Dan finally gets up, grabbing his shoulder and turning him over.

“Ya wanna fuckin' kiss me, at least do it right, ya idiot.”

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theharrypotterrealist · 4 years

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Remus Lupin spent most of his life being used by Albus Dumbledore and that makes me sad.

Think about this: when Hagrid first tells Harry about Voldemort, he tells him Voldemort had spent thirteen years coming to power before his first encounter with baby Harry. James and Lily were 21 when they died, which puts Remus, in the same year in school, also at 21 at that time, meaning Voldemort first started rising when Remus was 8. Voldemort’s rise was relatively slow and stealthy at first, with unexplained disappearances and the like, but Dumbledore knew what was up from the beginning. Fenrir Greyback was a known associate of Voldemort’s by the end of the war, but given he’d been operating biting the children of Ministry workers for years before the begin of Voldemort’s rise, they probably got together pretty quickly, if they weren’t already associated, along with various other rogue werewolves. And given how close of tabs Dumbledore kept of Voldemort, Dumbledore was probably aware of the association between Voldemort and evil werewolves when he offered Remus a place at his school. I’d argue the only reason he offered him a place at the school was because he was looking to pick the appropriate werewolf to shape into the agent he wanted to counter this association. It would take seven years, of course, but Dumbledore also played the long game, and part of playing the long game is acquiring the appropriate pieces to play with along the way.

Whenever Remus would talk about the situation, he seemed to perceive it that Dumbledore offered him a place at the school despite being a werewolf out of the kindness of his heart, or to counter and injustice against werewolf-children being denied a magical education. He was in fact slavishly grateful for it. Which is probably how Dumbledore wanted him to perceive it, so that he’d be grateful and feel obligated when the other shoe dropped. But if that was true, then Remus wouldn’t have been the only werewolf to go through Hogwarts. Fenrir Greyback had a stated preference for children. Remus, therefore, wasn’t the only child werewolf being denied an education, by far. Dumbledore probably could have stuffed at least a handful of child-werewolves in the Shrieking Shack. Remus would have had compatriots sharing the same secret and wouldn’t have felt so alone. Maybe one could try arguing that Remus was a pilot run, but that falls apart, as he went through successfully, but was both the first and last werewolf to go through Hogwarts. The Shrieking Shack was disused after he left school. Because of course Dumbledore didn’t want to educate werewolves. It was risky enough taking on Remus. Why take on more risk, when you can just pick the right werewolf- note that background materials say that Dumbledore spent an afternoon interviewing child-Remus over board games before offering him a spot- groom them they way you like and then when they’re about to leave school and oh-so-grateful for the education and relatively normal childhood they wouldn’t have had the opportunity to have otherwise, then tell them that you need them to go and spend the rest of the war in the dangerous pit of destitution and despair that were the werewolf dens, for the greater good, of course.

I doubt the werewolf dens were Remus’s idea. I’m certain when his friends were joining up with the Order of the Phoenix, he would have volunteered, too, but he was a pretty good duelist, and I imagine in an ideal world, he would have pictured himself volunteering to fight beside James and Sirius, not slink around in the werewolf dens to the point where James and Sirius got the idea that he was the Order’s traitor (the implied reason James, Sirius, and the real traitor Peter, changed secret keepers without letting him know). In the later books, when he’s filling this role again in the werewolf dens, he makes it pretty clear he hates it there and he doesn’t think he’s doing much good as the werewolves who are open to being recruited to the light side are pretty much non-existent given the way they’re treated by society.

Then, when the war is over? Dumbledore has enough influence and progressive friends and allies that he probably could have helped Remus to get a job somewhere discreet, even as a werewolf. He’d given Hagrid a job as a half-giant with barely any education and a propensity for raising man-eating monsters, after all. But did he do this for Remus? Nope, Remus was unemployed, homeless and squatting in a tumbledown cottage when the Prisoner of Azkaban came around. Then he offers Remus a job, once he knows Sirius has escaped and Remus is the only other person Sirius might logically have an interest in contacting- he offers him a job to keep him in sight in case Sirius comes calling. A job Dumbledore knew damn well was cursed, for that matter, that ended well for precisely no one. But oh well, right? And poor Remus was again oh-so-grateful for the opportunity. But when the year is over and Dumbledore is certain that Sirius isn’t dangerous? Well, back to unemployment and homelessness, son, at least until the end of Goblet of Fire, when Voldemort has risen again and then it’s time for our well-groomed-werewolf-agent to go back to the werewolf dens. Until the war eventually kills him.

Now, I don’t subscribe to the Dumbledore-was-evil theories. The way I look at it was that Dumbledore was a general in a war, and like all generals, he collected the appropriate army- muggles might need infantry, artillery, medics, air support and so forth, Dumbledore needed a werewolf, a half-giant, a reformed death eater, a boy-who-lived and so forth, and like all generals, he accepted that as a part of winning the war, the outcomes wouldn’t be good for everyone- including himself. But Remus idolized Dumbledore, was the foremost of the we-must-trust-Dumbledore voices in the later books, was so grateful for everything Dumbledore did for him, and that makes me feel sad for him. Because more likely than not, Dumbledore saw him as just the necessary ‘werewolf’ piece on his chessboard, to be used as needed and left to his own sad fate when not.

#Remus Lupin #Albus Dumbledore #Harry Potter #werewolves

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residentanchor · 5 years

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A Stone’s Throw Away

Act 1, Chapter 1

<<Prologue

Once upon a time… Magic existed in harmony amongst the people of a peaceful kingdom. Until one day, there was an evil sorcerer that attacked the kingdom with his magic, wishing to dethrone the king and take the crown for himself. He believed himself better than those without magic. With an evil army at his side, the sorcerer had almost succeeded, until a witch betrayed him and helped the king, locking the evil sorcerer away with her magic. To release the sorcerer, one with good intentions had to wish to break him free of his cage. Though, no one wanted to wish evil upon the land once more, leaving him trapped forever.

“Patty!” Patton jumped, startled at the sound of his little sister’s voice, and looked up from the book he had been reading from. “You’ve already read us this story!” She whined, huffing and kicking her feet in her bed from under the blankets. “Tell us a different one!”

“Yeah, new story!” He looked at his younger sisters, each squished into a much too small bed with one another. They each began kicking up a fuss, chanting together for a different story.

He could only sigh as he rested the worn out book down into his lap. “I’ve gone through all the stories already and we don’t have any more books. Besides, this one is your favorite!”

Despite his words, they continued to chant. “New story, new story!”

“Girls, quiet!” Patton looked over to the bed with some of his other sisters that were a bit closer to him in age. “If you ask nicely, perhaps Patton can make up a new story for you.”

“New story then, right.” Patton closed the book in his lap and took a moment. “Okay, so, once upon a time… there was a princess who dreamed of exploring the world and going on a big adventure…”

---

The early morning sun was just barely making its way over the horizon. The sherbet colors of the sky were blocked by mountains and starting to light up the town and surrounding forest. It was always the best part of Patton’s day. He appreciated that nothing could stop the stubborn sun from getting up every single morning. Sure, clouds and rain could block it, but he knew that behind all that was the sun, making its daily journey across the sky. If the sun can get up and face the day every morning, then gosh darn it, so can he! He loved mornings the most. His sisters were still asleep and his parents let him keep to his own devices as they got ready for the day. Patton had to tend to the few chickens that had survived the harsh winter and tend to the few crops the poor soil could manage to grow. He always had a bandana tied around his neck to help wipe away the sweat as he worked and rolled up his sleeves as he dug in the dirt. Then, he had to separate what they could keep for themselves and what they could sell. By then, the early morning market would be open and Patton could run down with his small supply to the stand he had helped build and try to see how much he could make. Some mornings, his mother managed to throw a loaf of bread or two onto the pile. On colder mornings, fresh warm bread was the best and Patton would always come home with a few more copper coins in his pocket. Life wasn’t perfect but it was what he was given to work with and that was more than enough. Most days he got to be outside and enjoy the warm sun on his tanned skin, and the rain was always a refreshing change of pace that helped crops grow, even if it didn’t agree with his dark, curly hair that would always frizz up. They could only afford one raincoat and most days it was Patton’s to use. He would tend to the garden and animals and still be able to go to the market with a lower risk of getting sick.

And yet… every day, Patton looked to the sky and closed his eyes as the warmth of the sun shined down on him, dreaming of the day he would finally step foot out of the town and start his own adventure. He loved his family and what he had, but nothing in the village ever changed. He and his parents pushed to keep their family warm and fed since his sisters were still so young. Even the closest to him in age was just becoming an adult, but Patton wanted to make sure they all got the chance he always wanted. They would finish their schooling first before they would help out the family in hopes that one day, they’d be able to do more with their lives. He wanted them to have the opportunity he had given up.

On the bright side, life at the market was always interesting. Every day, the same few people would set up and try to sell whatever their families managed to harvest. Patton set up next to an older woman named Mrs. Morris that specialized in making jams. She was friendly and loved to talk but was a terrible gossip. Patton always got the latest scoop, not that he ever really cared, but it was nice when she had heard something about his sisters.

“Patton, sweetie, I’m so glad you’re here! You won’t believe what Margaret is up to now!”

After a couple hours in the sun, Patton sighed and looked down in his basket at the scraps that still remained. There were a few things he thought he might be able to sell off easy, but it just wasn’t his day. The sun had climbed high in the sky by that point. Standing at his makeshift table any longer was wasting time he could be doing chores and helping out back home, unfortunately. Packing up, Patton cleared off his little table so it would be ready the next morning for him. He grabbed his basket and headed back up the hill to his family’s cottage after waving goodbye to the others in the market.

“Mama, I’m back,” he kicked the door behind him shut as he walked in, kicking off his muddy boots. “We have leftovers today.”

He walked into the kitchen and found his mother preparing lunch for everyone. The short, middle-aged woman looked exhausted as always. The tired look in her eyes always broke his heart. “Well, that’s quite alright. There’s always tomorrow!”

“Right,” he mumbled, forcing a smile on his face. His mother always said that. ‘There’s always tomorrow’. Tomorrow always brought the same things. How many tomorrows have his mother waited until she expected something good to happen? How many times can she hope that tomorrow will bring something better? Her unwavering optimism was admirable and a bit heartbreaking at the same time. “Well, where is everyone?”

“Out. Your sisters didn’t have lessons today so I sent them out to keep them from going stir crazy. No need to be cooped up inside all day.”

Patton hummed and unpacked the basket of things that they would be able to use before pausing at the sound of a distant thump. He waited until he heard it again before looking out the back window, watching his father chop a log for firewood. The bearded man lifted the axe and swung it down through a log of wood before pulling back. He huffed and puffed a bit, trying to catch his breath after, placing a hand on his lower back. The small stack of wood next to him showed that he hadn’t been at it for very long. “What is Father doing? He’s going to hurt himself!”

“Oh, you know him. Wanted to help and telling him ‘no’ is like talking to a wall.”

“He threw out his back last time, what is he thinking?” Patton marched to the back door but stopped when his mother reached out and gently grabbed his arm.

“I know, dear, but he’s feeling a bit down about not being able to help out much and you’ve been doing so much lately. Just let him have this?”

He hesitated a moment before pulling his hand away from the doorknob. “If he hurts himself again, he’s not allowed to chop firewood ever again.”

“Oh, I’d love to see you stop him. I think you’re the only one who could, just as stubborn as he is.”

Patton smiled and helped with lunch while glancing occasionally out the back window. He kept a close eye on his father, watching as he huffed and struggled to do just a little bit of chopping. He was happy to call him eat once lunch had been prepared. Then, after everyone had eaten, he helped clean up before helping his mother clean. There would be a loose floorboard or something would have broken that he would try and fix. Just before dinner, his sisters would beg for him to play and no matter how tired he was, he could never say no. He would eat, clean up and head to bed after telling them a story, just like he did every night. He would wake up just before the sun the next day and repeat this process over and over, as he always had, and always will.

Such was the life of Patton Darling.

----

“Marissa, where is your younger sister? It’s time to leave for your lessons!” “Which sister, Ma? There’s half a dozen of us.”

“I’ve got her.” Patton walked in with his youngest sister, Tabby, trailing behind him. “She’s all dressed and ready to go!” Patton held onto the heavy basket in his arms as he watched his sisters get ready for the day. He had to head down to the marketplace before it got to be too late, but some mornings, he couldn’t help but get wrapped up in the chaos that was the Darling household.

Tabby turned around and smiled up at her big brother. “Patty, can you get a new book to read to us at night, please? Pretty please?!”

“I go to the market to make money, Tabs, not spend it.” She looked up at him, crocodile tears shining in her eyes. He sighed, knowing to not even bother fighting with her. “I can look, but no guarantees! Okay?” She ran forward and gave him a hug, almost knocking into the basket. “Thanks, Patty!”

Seeing all his sisters run out the door was enough to get Patton moving. He was late already, but he could still make the morning rush if he hurried to his stand. Rushing down the hill to the center of town and waving to his younger sisters, Patton held his basket close as he headed for his makeshift stall to sell the little their family had to offer.

It wasn’t the best source of income, but with Patton’s father growing older in age, it was getting harder and harder to make ends meet. Patton never knew how much he would manage to sell that day. The side of the market he sold at was usually filled with men in similar situations just trying to get by for their own families. The only times they managed to sell anything were when the main shops were running low or people were in a hurry and needed something cheap. Most days left Patton with a basket heavier than he hoped and his wallet lighter than he wished.

This particular morning went okay. He managed to sell a bit he had gotten that morning fresh from the garden. The weather was growing warmer and Patton’s strawberry plant was starting to sprout as spring started. Selling fresh strawberries would help greatly, but that was still far too long in advance. The plant was weeks from flowering, let alone growing any fruit.

As the sun stood high in the sky, Patton looked over to the center of town. His savings dried up when his father had hurt himself in the winter; otherwise, Patton would just go and buy a new book for his sisters right now. The crowds had begun to thin out as the village went about their own business and other stalls began to pack up for the day. It wasn’t going to be a good day, yet again, though Patton couldn’t do much about it.

Packing up his small basket, he frowned and turned back into town. He couldn’t afford to spend any of the earnings frivolously, but it couldn’t hurt to look for a book and see how much he would need. It was at least something he could do for his sisters. Even if the ones closest to him in age weren’t into fairy tales, they did enjoy reading as much as Patton had, even if he didn’t get the chance to read very often for fun.

The town really had thinned out, but there were still plenty of people hustling by, dropping off deliveries and worrying about their own lives. Weaving through the crowds, Patton found the small library that was also attached to the outpost in case any guards from the castle stopped by. They were pretty far out so the space was often just used as storage, but the building needed someone to maintain the upkeep, so a library it was. New books didn’t come through often and when they did get a delivery, it was usually for the small school. Patton missed the days of learning he had, but he left school early to help his family so his sisters wouldn’t have to do the same.

The old door creaked open but no one was visible inside. The librarian was more of a maintenance man taking care of the old building that also just happened to take care of the books while he was at it. Walking carefully, the small selection on the shelves stared back at Patton as he couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t have much time, but he could sort through and try to pick something out before he had to head back home. There wasn’t much to choose from, but he did find a book or two that would do the job. They weren’t terribly expensive either! He could pull a few extra errands for a little while and hopefully have enough to purchase the book by the end of the month!

He left the library, basket in hand, filled with new hope. It wasn’t as quick as his sisters would have liked, but it was the best he could do. He loved to spoil them any chance he got and it had been a rough winter for all of them, but this was enough to put a spring back in Patton’s step. “Woah!” Patton stumbled back and his heart jumped as he barely managed to run into someone in his excitement. “Careful there!” “I’m so sorry!” Patton checked his basket and looked back up as he apologized. “I didn’t see you there!” “I suppose I was walking too close to the door, my apologies!” Patton blinked and grew confused as he realized he didn’t recognize the man in front of him. “I didn’t mean to slow you down.” “Oh, no! That’s okay! Are, uh. Are you new here? Just passing through?” “Is it that obvious?” The man laughed and ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Yeah, I’m a traveling messenger. Saw this quaint little village and decided to see if I could resupply before heading out.”

“Oh!” Patton perked up and smiled. “That’s so exciting!”

The man laughed again as the sparkle and wonder lit up in Patton’s eyes. “Yeah, nothing too glamorous, but I get to enjoy the view everywhere I go.” “That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to leave this village and see new sights! Have you got any amazing adventure stories?” “Calm there, friend. I’m nothing special, but I have seen a thing or two. How about you show me where I could stock up on supplies and I tell you a tale?” “Of course!” Shifting his basket to one arm, Patton stuck out a hand. “Name’s Patton Darling!”

The stranger took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Roman. Roman Grimsby.”

“Well, Roman Grimsby,” Patton shifted his basket into both hands once more as he turned to walk. “What brings you to our village?” “I’m headed to the castle, actually. Have some business there.” Patton froze immediately and stared at Roman. “Something wrong?” “The castle? You have business at the castle?!”

“Nothing like that, just delivering a letter to someone’s family, then I head back with the response. So nothing too special.”

Despite Roman trying to shake it off, Patton was immediately taken with the stranger. “But you still get to go to the castle! That’s amazing! I’ve never even left this town!” “Well,” Roman turned and started walking once more. “Maybe one day you and I can have a real adventure of our own, hm?” Patton felt his heart flutter as he raced after the messenger, catching up to show him the way.

---

“And he told me about this time he had to cross this bridge but it was out! He managed to climb down and across and back up in a day! It wasn’t too steep but then he was behind, so he took a shortcut through these thick woods and-” “Patty!” Patton jumped at the sound of his mother’s raised voice. “You’ve been talking about this Roman fella for a while! You keep talking about this boy and I’m gonna start thinkin’ that you’re smitten with him.”

Patton flushed at the accusation, Roman’s smile flashed in his mind as he shook his head. “No, ‘course not! But he promised he’d come back through so I could talk to him again!” His mother gave him a look before he huffed. “Ma, I haven’t had a friend my age since I was schooled! I’m working all the time, let me have one person in my life outside this family?”

Patton regretted the words immediately as his mother looked down in guilt. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Just teasin’ ya is all. I’m glad to see you being so excited all the time. I’ve missed that smile on your face, my baby boy.”

“Maaaaa, don’t say things like that!” Patton smiled and reached out, wrapping his mother in a hug. “I do it ‘cause I love my family. It’s just nice to get a break once in a while.”

“I know, baby.” His mother reached up and Patton bowed his head so she could plant a kiss on it. “I just want what’s best for you. One day, we’ll all be good and I want you to be able to live your life and not worry about all of us, alright?”

“Of course, Mama.”

Though, Patton knew that wish was still far from coming true.

A few days had passed and Patton had begun doing extra chores around the village. He helped pull weeds and garden for some of the older villagers for a few coins. Some had housework that Patton didn’t mind helping with. Loose floorboards and windows that needing some fixing because they wouldn’t open. A few odds and ends took up all of his spare time before he headed home and did the same for his own family.

It wasn’t until a week later that a familiar traveler made his way back through the village. Patton was at his stall, trying to sell a day old loaf of bread when Roman approached him with a few copper coins in his hands. “Roman!” Patton almost dropped the bread he had been trying to sell for pretty much anything at that point. He held the loaf close to his chest and smiled at the messenger. His heart fluttered as Roman smiled back at him “You’re back!”

“Indeed, I have returned as promised! Now, how much?” The messenger pointed to the loaf of bread. “Oh, no! I couldn’t!” Patton shifted back, hiding the loaf close to his chest.

Roman raised a brow and shifted on his feet, holding a hand out with three copper pieces in it. “You were willing to sell it just a moment before, but now that you have a buyer, you have changed your mind? It must be the best bread in the whole village!” Patton smiled but shook his bread. “Oh, no. The baker has far better options. This is just a load ma made yesterday that I couldn’t sell.” “Then three copper is plenty, right?” Roman placed the money on the makeshift stall Patton always used before reaching out and grabbing the bread. Patton looked up at him silently as he let go, watching the other wrap it in cloth before shoving it into his bag. “That will be wonderful with my dinner tonight, thank you Patton.” “O-oh. You’re welcome.”

Roman had kept his promise to talk before he ventured off back to his employer. Roman Grimsby was the opposite of Patton in many ways. He grew up an only child and left his family the first change he got. He wanted to travel, but not really to adventure. He had hoped to find a place to settle down and make a life somewhere before he came across the messenger job. He never actively sought out adventure, letting it come to him instead. Patton was enraptured by his stories, desperately wishing to be a part of them one day. Traveling with Roman and waiting to see what the next horizon would bring or snuggled next to each other under the stars at night to keep warm.

Luckily, Roman’s messenger job was not yet completed. He would be delivering letters back and forth for a little while, giving him the chance to stop by the village as he traveled through. Every time, Roman would wave goodbye with a promise to stop by next time he was in the area. Every time, it was heartbreaking to Patton. He never knew when Roman would come back, if he ever would. He was simply exchanging letters to someone closer to the castle and this was the best route for him to take, but who knows how long that would last? Patton always sent him off with a snack and a smile, hoping his promise to return would be sooner than the last.

Chapter 2>>

#Sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #my writing #ts patton #ts roman #royality #peasant patton #messenger roman #fantasy au #medieval au

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messrsmemoirs · 6 years

Note

What do you think Remus was doing before going to teach at Hogwarts? Or if you answered that already, what do you think his feelings were on teaching? Do you think he ever had a dream job?

Before teaching at Hogwarts, I think Remus spent a lot of years sort of lost, and drifting. Both physically, being sort of out of work more often than not, but also emotionally. Remus had to really figure out who he was now that his entire world had sort of dissolved beneath him. Not only had he lost his friends, who were more than likely his entire social circle and formed part of his identity, but without Voldemort there was no need for the Order, either. There was no need to band together, no need to stay together after the war. So Remus had war brothers and sisters, but they weren’t close like the real thing or like his friends. And without the Order, Remus didn’t even have a purpose, or in the most basic sense, a job to do. Remus woke up the morning of November 1 1981 and he had basically become redundant and suddenly very, very alone.

What happens to people when they come home from war? From what I understand, there is this very strange feeling of familiarity that is somehow not familiar whatsoever. Once the celebrations had died down, Remus would have been left in what probably felt like a strange parallel universe: everything is the same, like Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, wizarding society... People say hello, the food still tastes like it used to, and familiar comforts like cups of tea are always there. Hell, the cup he left by the sink is still there, in the same spot. Only now, it’s like Remus can’t ever imagine living that life even though he has all the memories testifying to it’s existence. And there’s this gaping, aching whole of wrongness right about where the other cups in the sink are, with ghosts in the residue of tea at the bottom that were drunk by people who don’t exist. Not anymore. I think the first year Remus spent by himself he didn’t actually do much at all except survive.

Now I do of course like to imagine that he had some help. I really don’t think someone like Mother Hen McGonagall would have let Remus just wander off into the shadows. She knew what his bond with his friends was like. She knew that he’d effectively lost it all, etc. And I think she would have done what she could to check in from time to time, but there’s also a certain professional boundary between her and a former student that I don’t think is really let go until Remus himself becomes her colleague, so I think it was largely letters and maybe some surprise appearances of a Tabby cat with spectacles over for tea when she didn’t hear back from him. Someone like Moody would have... well, not checked in, I suppose, because Moody is an Auror and he’s, you know, Moody. But I think Moody would have invited him to do some odd jobs with him, or recommended him to others needing some work done. Moody isn’t going to hug Remus and tell him it’s okay, but Moody will certainly let Remus pick up his wand and fight the depression away with some exercise--and hey, if bad guys go down, that’s just a plus, right? Wink, wink. Maybe Hagrid kept in touch from time to time, running errands for Dumbledore, who would also have been keeping tabs on Remus I think because he’s not a heartless bastard like fanon tells him to be, and I think he did care for Remus on some level.

But we have to remember that Remus is also this very proud sort of fellow, and after he had gotten over the worst of his depression and stood up on his own two feet once again, he wanted people to think he had it under control. So those contacts would have died down, and then Remus would of course have had to move out of wherever he had been living once the last of his money from James had been used up and he didn’t have work enough to keep his place. Now, depending on whether you think of Lyall as having been alive, Remus could have moved back in with him for a time before deciding that he didn’t want to be a burden on his family. Again, this is the pride talking, but there are also still Death Eaters out there in the world. Death Eaters who may still do terrible things like what happened with the Longbottoms, even though the war is over. If they know who Remus is, and they probably do, Remus is always at risk. He may also not want to stay with family for that reason.

Now as far as things he could actually have done over the years, I think we’re looking at a selection of odd jobs and actual, open homelessness.

What are the sorts of jobs available to a werewolf? Remus has not been publicly outed yet, and so he can maintain some work for a time if his absences don’t become noticeable as a pattern. I do think Remus would have shown up for work the morning after spending the night eating himself alive, though, if he felt he had to. Look at PoA: obviously the timing was poor, and of course there’s the whole “dementors are going to search the train and it’s practical to have Remus there for chocolate remedy slash plot reasons”, but he still would have been pretty much dead to the world at Hogwarts. And there’s no way of knowing whether his absences from teaching were his own choice (given that he’s actually doing much better since he’s in control under the effects of Wolfsbane) or maybe Madam Pomfrey drop-kicking his stubborn ass into bed where it belongs, but either way, Hogwarts was our only window into his career life, and Remus is shown taking breaks after full moon and it’s something that was subsequently noticed by Hermione, a 13-year-old girl. Now suppose there’s a 50-year-old witch or wizard with a business and a family who has a prejudice against werewolves, and how far do you think Remus could make it disappearing at the worst possible time? And even if he didn’t, he does sorta look like he gets hit by a truck every month or so, like suspicious clockwork.

Suffice it to say that legitimate, over-the-table work is not going to be very reliable for Remus. Unfortunately, he’s much more likely to get a job where people don’t ask questions, and those jobs are the less reputable sort. Smuggling illegal dragons eggs, or cursed artifacts--things that someone like an expert in the dark arts could handle. Maybe grunt work like the shipping industry where trolls do the heavy lifting but there’s paperwork to be filed and boxes to be packed, and how else are we supposed to get things like the Monster Book of Monsters to the book store? Wear some gloves. This also leaves Remus open to possible blackmail: “I’ll keep you on, but if you cross me I’ll send the Capture Unit after you.” (Of course, Remus isn’t stupid, and he’d reply, “And I’ll be sure to tell them the names of all your associates and your business partners,” etc. So it’s a careful dance.) And it makes him unintentionally part of the stereotype of werewolves as criminals, because even if all he wants to do is live his life and eat supper once a week or so, he’s doing work that society considers bad and if he’s caught all the responsibility is on him.

There’s also the potential that he worked outside of the wizarding world, too. Muggles don’t have the same knowledge of werewolves; they don’t openly fear them so much as they have this ghost of a fear that’s now a fun Halloween costume. Nobody’s going to actually believe that Remus J Lupin is a very real werewolf in modern day England, ha! So why not get a job as a cashier, or as a bookstore clerk, or a stock worker? It pays. Though I realize as I type it that there’s of course the problems with exchange: is one pound worth half as much in sickles or knuts? Could Remus work full time at Aldi and still barely make enough to eat? Surely there was an economic boom for wizards following the decline of Voldemort, but what about England as a whole? Did the exchange rate sort of stay comfortable close, etc? We just don’t know if it was really feasible for Remus to live as a wizard and work as a Muggle, so maybe he worked and lived as a Muggle.

Between those periods, though, I think Remus was not fortunate enough to avoid homelessness. I think he would have lived in a colony at least once, even if he hated it, simply because they had resources he needed at the time. He would have left ASAP, of course, but still. I expect he would have learned to keep himself clean and trim in the sink of a public bathroom, washing himself in the cold with some rough spells meant for tougher work that actually sting a bit but at least he’s clean afterwords. I think he probably learned to sleep on the Tube, maybe riding it back and forth a few ways until he woke up and was kicked off or felt people staring. And I think he did his best to appear in control at all times, even if he never felt like he was and would actually refuse help if it was offered.

I do have some thoughts on what his dream job could have been as well, and I’ll add that onto this ask since it’s relevant.

I do think Remus wanted to teach. In a perfect world, I think he could have gotten the job early and even earned himself a nice pension. But I think Remus realized from his time as a Prefect (or even tutoring other students) that he had a knack for it, and that he really enjoyed helping others learn. I headcanon that the briefcase he had with the peeling letters was a gift from the Marauders, so that he could have it for his first day on the job. And, he did have it, didn’t he? (*sad little sigh*)

Anyway, I have these other headanons that Remus grew up knowing how to speak Welsh since Hope was Welsh and Lyall met her in Cardiff. I imagine that Remus lived in Wales for his early life, and that they moved around a lot but tended to be in Wales for a while before eventually settling in rural England (i.e. a certain cottage in Yorkshire we may all be familiar with). And about this time in the eighties, Wales was getting it’s language back, so to speak. It was historically beaten out of the speakers, literally. And around this time, the government of Wales was actually beginning to put up bilingual street signs, and Welsh schools were popping up. I play with the idea sometimes of him having an apprenticeship or something at one of the newer schools who would have needed a fluent speaker. You never know, right? Honestly, the things that happen in life...

Anyway, I can always think up some specifics if that’s what you’re looking for but I hope this sort of covers most of your questions!

#remus lupin #the dark years #text #Anonymous

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abumblebeeat221b · 7 years

Text

Sherlock and the Female Gaze

If anyone asked me to point them to the most revolutionary piece of media ever created I’d probably show them Doctor Who (because guys - nothing beats a show that is basically Sherlock Holmes in space and keeps reinventing itself every other year).

But the second thing would be Sherlock. Not Doyle’s original, not the Rathbone, Granada, Soviet, new Russian adaptations (even though they are dear to me). Just 13 episodes of a TV show that was only ever meant to win some obscure film award in Eastern Europe and became a success over night instead.

The fandom that does its research has spent seven years trying to pinpoint its secret and the only thing we can agree on are three little words: it looks pretty.

On a more serious note: it is probably the first thing which made male eye-candy unashamedly mainstream. It is the millennial version of Pride and Prejudice, of Mr. Darcy, only that this time society doesn’t expect the story to bore our boyfriends to death.

And I’m not even sure that was something Mofftiss and Co were aiming for.

You see. It is a truth universally acknowledged that men have no idea what women like. They confuse it with male power fantasies ALL THE TIME because that’s what the media tells them we are day dreaming about. They are shocked to learn that we think Loki to be the sexually most appealing hero villain in the Avangers, that we consider Rodger from the original 101 Dalmatians to be perfect boyfriend material, that yes, we’d happily choose a dog loving, kind individual (with great hair) over most more manly super heroes out there.

And Sherlock ticks all the right boxes for women to find him attractive, while most guys wouldn’t think that lanky nerd to be much of a competition for them.

The cherry on our metaphorical fandom-cake is that Sherlock is pretty much the first thing produced for a main stream audience I know of* which treats its leading male character as if he was a woman in order to cater to the female gaze (because the lgbqt+ community was not the only reason why the name Cumberbatch has showed up on most versions of the sexiest men alive lists since 2010/11).

Women look at Sherlock and think ‘sexy’ because we’ve been conditioned by the media to recognise this is what ‘sexy’ looks like.

And this my friends is where the magic happens.

You want the list? Here have the list:

A well-tailored suit is to women what lingerie is to men. And let me tell you Sherlock wearing suits doesn’t look like a coincidence from over here.

The coat. It’s like a cape. Only way cooler.

The buttons which deserve their own award™. We all know the story behind the coat™, but I’m not aware of the official one explaining why Sherlock couldn’t buy the purple shirt of sex™ in a bigger size (lucky us he didn’t). On a sidenote: too small dress sizes and strained buttons are exactly what actresses are expected to wear in front of the camera.

The white sheet of possibilities. Sherlock Holmes visits Buckingham palace wearing nothing but a sheet BECAUSE THE SCRIPT SAYS SO and I can’t be the only one feeling reminded of the long standing tradition of women having to take off their clothes for very important plot reasons™. Two series later, Moffat does it again, and while IMHO Sherlock should have kept his hospital gown on in His Last Vow, I’m aware that is a pretty problematic™ thing to say given how it belongs to the most beloved (i.e. gifed and photoshopped) bits of that episode. (While at the same time, apart from Irene Adler, we have no idea what the Sherlock ladies wear underneath).

The cheekbones. Oh. The. Cheekbones. It is shocking exactly no one that Carrie Fisher was asked to lose weight every time she played Princess Leia (yes, also that one). Benedict Cumberbatch lost weight for series 2, then went to play the villain in Star Trek: Into Darkness, came back to series 3 having to lose those muscles and some weight - which goes against the *typical* male beauty standards in the industry, just saying. (NB: I’m pretty sure he did it again for TAB and series 4, but series 2 and series 3 are the only instances I’m aware of him mentioning it).

The weapons of a woman. When was the last time the male hero was allowed to lose? James Bond gets the girl because he is the best agent out there. It’s always the best knight who slays the dragon and saves the princess. I agree today personality matters - but that just means that now he needs to slay the dragon AND be charismatic on the top of it.

Heroes aren’t damsels in distress, they don’t get favours because of their looks and smiles, they don’t rely on other people or need emotional support. They are lone wolves, strong and self-efficient in every possible sense of the word and they have more than just their muscles to show for it.

Not in Sherlock.

Odds (*literally odds*) are Sherlock wouldn’t have survived the first episode without John.

Here we have someone who manipulates Molly (and clients alike) using his charm to get what he wants. Sherlock relies on his social network all the time, his adventures are about showing us how being the Cleverest™, the Best™ does not equal success.

He gets saved, beaten and drugged by Irene Adler, and just in case we’d still have some illusions left, the script for that scene describes the leading male character with the words ‘weak as a kitten’. I leave you to draw your own conclusions.

In the same episode he wins a fight because of pepper spray.

He relies on his brother’s help to beat Moriarty. He shoots Magnussen because even Mycroft’s long arm doesn’t end up being long enough. The only reason he makes it out of that mess alive is his freaking sister he isn’t even aware of.

The point is. Sherlock is right when he points out the obvious: he is no hero, but a mess who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high. Yes, he is phenomenally good at what he does. But he also needs an assistant, someone who takes some part of the responsibilities off his not-so-bulky shoulders and helps him to win those victories.

The fairytale of the high-functioning sociopath. For some baffling reason, sometime between now and the dark middle ages humankind decided that European culture only ever allows men to seek companionship when somehow sex (or bragging about sex) is involved.

This is why “being friendzoned” is the worst that can happen to the modern man™. This is why they honestly don’t get the concept of just friends™. To a good deal of them female friends are like unicorns in that they don’t exist. To them the age old “if I’m not getting sex out of it then why should I bother?” argument works on both sides: “if you are not getting sex out of it then why should you care?”.

(Before you spam my inbox yes, I know Scrubs exists, I’m more than just familiar with House MD *laughs uncomfortably for ten years*. But. For every single piece of media that happens to get it right there are 10 AU remakes of Fifty Shades of Grey being published).

Now. What on Earth does this have to do with Sherlock?

NOTHING. We see Sherlock having more healthy relationships in every single episode (yes even that one) than Bond will have in a lifetime. And no matter how much Sherlock insists on being a sociopath, the hero in this story has friends, imperfect friends, and whether he likes it or not they do care about him. And he cares about them too.

Otherwise Mycroft wouldn’t need to tell his little brother that caring is not an advantage and Sherlock wouldn’t meet those words like an old friend.

On top of it, the writers never code Sherlock and John as gay. No, they don’t. To be fair, they also don’t say he’s straight. However, they do make him canonically fall for Irene Adler (FYI: if him going ALL THE WAY to Karachi for her sake wasn’t a big enough clue, then MP!Sherlock keeping a picture of her in his pocket watch should have been).

And while we do see Sherlock invested in plenty of typical male stuff (he fights, he wins, he plays the rude smart arse, the hero, the brilliant detective) at the same time he also accepts it when in TEH John decides he wants to keep his distance, and Sherlock leaves the matter in Mary’s capable hands, John’s love interest, the woman who should be traditionally the mortal enemy of male friendships.

We had a whole episode which was basically Sherlock helping Mary with wedding preparations and not (just) having a bad time.

The next episode has him do his best to save his friends’ marriage. It also has him fake a relationship with a woman (who ends up owning a cottage in Sussex that comes with bees). But he never takes advantage of her even though she wouldn’t mind being taken advantage of. And when she gets her well deserved revenge he admires her for her agency. That boy is so smitten by Janine Hawkins that the original shooting script for His Last Vow had them agreeing to marry each other should they end up without anyone else by the time they are old end grey (page 72, you’re welcome).

Sherlock gets his support system and it doesn’t ask for anything in return. He is allowed to struggle, to become emotional, to not deserve his victories and still be the hero of the show. Those 13 episodes have Sherlock stumble from one failure to the next but every single time we learn it doesn’t matter. He gets to learn from his mistakes, he gets to grow.

Yes, he has his ghosts and demons but he never needs to face them on his own, which is something I’ve only ever seen on this stupid show

_____ * If anyone wants to point out the masterpiece that’s George from the Jungle then yes, I’m aware of it (also, surprise surprise another film that was pretty popular with the LGBTQ+ folks). However, generally speaking it never became mainstream. Which is what I’m talking about here. And while Marvel’s Loki is mainstream, he is not the main character in The Avengers.

#Sherlock #Sherlock BBC #BBC Sherlock #Benedict Cumberbatch #Steven Moffat #Mark Gatiss #long post #now excuse me as I look for the alternative universe where Martin Freeman got to play Sherlock and Benedict Cumberbatch became his Watson

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