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goosetheluce · 9 months

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WAIT OKAY gwen stacy/fem!r smth smth seeing her band and like developing the BIGGEST crush on her from just watching her and bumping into her after the show and her asking u out 🤭🤭

Do I Know You? (Gwen Stacy x Fem!Reader)

requested by @meredarling

warnings: mentions of underage drinking and drug use, crowded show, use of y/n, pet names, non-sexual flirting, fem reader

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Wherever the crowd went, you went. The mass of punks and curious outsiders swayed and undulated, creating one hive-minded motion that flowed into you. Your ears were under a constant assault of missed guitar notes and strangled screaming that was probably wrecking the vocalist's throat. You didn't care, though; the point of coming to these shitty basement shows filled with late teens and early 20s was to ignore everything outside.

So you stayed there, taking in the combo of sweat, sour fermentation of beer, and the sharp scent of weed.

Not my favorite.

Truthfully, you didn't care about any of these bands except for the final act.

"The Mary Janes," you read off the poster to your friend, Amy. It had been laying on the concrete sidewalk leading up to the academy. Your brain put together the familiar name. "Wait, like, Mary Jane Watson? From school?"

Amy shrugged. "Guess so. I had no idea she had a band." She sipped her coffee, the chilled air nipping at both of your fingertips. You raised your eyebrows and folded the poster, slipping it into your backpack.

"We gotta see this! Especially you, Ames," you teased, elbowing her gently in the arm. She pulled into herself a bit more.

"I can't tonight, but I think if I saw MJ Watson live, I'd faint and die happily on the ground," she whispered dramatically, a smile creeping across her face. "I wish she'd dump that douchebag guy, I'm literally sending out radio-clear signal that I'm into her."

"Lending her a pen and staring at her when she's not looking isn't radio-clear, but whatever you say," you sighed. Amy was hopeless.

"What? I think it's a great tactic. Anyway, we should get to class. We're gonna be late."

You nodded and zipped up your bag. You were buzzing with excitement when you hopped off the bus later that afternoon. You had a show to catch.

And here you were, taking a swig of your bottled cherry Pepsi, sweat beading on your hairline. Outside, the sky had bled into a deep indigo ink. The music stopped, and the vocalist's thrashed voice cracked into the mic, reiterating the band's name and stumbled off.

The lights dimmed a bit more. The house had been modified to have more resemblance to an actual venue. Impressive, you remarked to yourself.

It was silent for a few moments, the crowd whispering excitedly. You caught MJ's name here and there. You wondered to yourself how you never knew she had a band, because she was clearly popular in the scene. You recognized another name.

"MJ's vocals are great, but I'm telling you, the drummer is fucking amazing. Gwen Stacy or something. She goes to our school, too. I think she's a senior."

"Huh," you muttered out loud.

A line of girls suddenly streamed out from the other room where the bands got ready. MJ's flaming locks of hair bounced over her shoulders and she ran up onto the stage, grabbing the mic and breathing heavily into it. The other girls ran out behind her and settled into their positions. The lights fully dimmed this time.

"Give it up for Glory Grant!" MJ yelled into the microphone, pointing to a dark-skinned girl with locs on keys. She dragged her fingers across the board to produce a bright shriek of notes. The crowd hollered.

"Give it up for Betty Brant!" This time it was a pale brunette on bass. She plucked the thick strings with her pointer and middle fingers with a jazzy melody. You nodded to the beat. The crowd celebrated.

"Give it up for my best friend, Gwen Stacy, on drums!" This time MJ trotted to the back where the drumset was, putting her arm around the blonde.

"Play something, Gwen!" someone in the crowd suggested.

Gwen laughed into her microphone. "Sure, random stranger." You noted her smooth, relaxed voice.

As quick as lightning, she began pounding on the drums, the cymbals crashing deafeningly. The sequence was immaculate, filling the house with energizing ruckus. Her arms moved impossibly fast, and your heart began to beat faster. Was it the tempo, or was it the way Gwen smiled with adoration for her instrument?

The crowd began to jump around, and MJ sprinted back to the mic. "I would give it up for myself, but the band is literally called The Mary Janes."

"So, face it, Tiger, you're not leaving this fuckin' show till we burn the fuckin' place down!" She played a riff on her guitar to match the drums and the show started with a bang.

Amy would have loved the show, and so did you, but your eyes were trained on Gwen the whole time. The way you could tell she was panting and screaming along with the lyrics despite not technically being a backup vocalist; it was powerful. Her bleach-blonde hair danced along with her vigorous movement as her body sang with passion. Your eyes were wide with awe. You pushed your way to the front to watch.

Her eyebrow was pierced and the side of her head was shaved, adding more to her bold presentation. Her nails were cut all the way short, but still painted maroon. Her leather jacket framed her thinner hourglass figure wonderfully, and her somewhat worn turquoise converse stomped on the bass drum. She was a beautiful force of nature.

Disappointment coursed through you when you realized that the long pause at the end of the song actually just the end of the show.

"The place didn't burn down, but I don't have the money to pay for rebuilding anyway. Have a good fuckin' night, Queens, New York!"

The crowd whooped and started talking loudly at each other when the lights came back on. The girls left the stage, yet you felt unfulfilled. You wished desperately that you'd recognize Gwen in school the next Monday as you bought another cherry Pepsi.

As the rest of the concertgoers filtered out of the house, you looked around to find an excuse to stay. Without looking in front of yourself, you took a few steps forward and crashed into someone.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry-" you quickly apologized only to be cut short.

Holy shit. Gwen motherfucking Stacy is right in front of me.

The drummer smirked. "Careful there. What if I was some drunk asshole? Could've started a fight for yourself, there, babe."

Your cheeks lit on fire. "Yeah, no kidding," you laughed nervously. She's just a person, calm down. "That show was amazing, by the way. I'm (Y/N)."

Gwen tilted her head to the side, crossing her arms and smiling at you.

"Wait, do I know you? You're from school, right? I've seen you in the halls."

"Yup. I'm a senior," you confirmed. "That's actually why I came. Didn't know that Mary Jane had a band, never would have guessed." You took a second to think before making a move. "But I think I found someone even better."

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to your earlobe while whispering.

"You know, if it weren't for 97% of the population being straight or whatever, I think I'd ask you out right now," Gwen rasped into your ear. You felt her lips pull into a grin over your skin. "...(Y/N)," she finished, clearly trying to fluster you. It worked.

You let out a breath of air, pulling back to look at her. She was taller than you by a good half foot, and her fingers would probably be longer than yours by an inch. You found your words.

"Lucky for you, you don't have to worry about that. And definitely not after that performance," you assured charmingly. "So, are you gonna ask me?"

"I have to go help the band get their shit in the van, but..."

Gwen grabbed your palm and flipped it over to the top side. She pulled out a sharpie.

"Will this work, sweetheart?"

You nodded, pulse racing.

She went to work and wrote her number down on your hand. She left a message at the bottom.

call me xx -Gwen

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thanks for reading!

#lucy writes #lucy's inbox #mere 🌷#itsv #atsv #gwen stacy #gwen spiderverse #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy x fem!reader #gwen stacy x you #atsv x reader #ghost spider #ghost spider x reader #spider gwen #spider gwen x reader #spiderwoman #wlw #sapphic

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sookiesookie · 1 year

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swim good₊˚.༄ shuri udaku pt.1

titled inspired by “swim good” by frank ocean

paring: shuri udaku x blk fem! reader

summary: (a cliche) in sitcom-like fashion, an unathletic shuri udaku attempts to join the swim team to impress a girl she likes.

part summary: shuri is smitten and her lovesick ass gets into trouble.

word count: 2.5k

content will include: third person story-telling + reader goes by all pronouns, nerd!shuri, pining!shuri, athlete stem!reader, reader is aware of shuri’s efforts and finds it adorable, the reader is a huge tease, reader’s a flirt but they’re rlly sweet too, reader is shorter than shuri but stronger, college au, swim sports au, peter parker and friends cameo as her lil nerd group (???), shuriri are besties and dormates, swim teacher!namor, t’challa is alive and he’s the wrestling team coach :’), wrestling team co-coach!m’baku, fencing teacher!okoye mentioned, literature teacher!nakia mentioned, shuri’s hair is the short coily undercut in this story, I refer shuri by like six diff nicknames for fun bc it’s funny and we having fun, by “purple-clad” shuri I mean purple flannel and not the tracksuit, y’know, bc she’s a nerd /hj, I call them teens bc they’re still eightTEEN and nighTEEN, a good chunk of the story is just the other characters dogging on shuri for her sitcom ahh decisions and lines lmao, lots of banter, sitcom-like corniness and humor, sexual jokes but not rlly any content, some tension tho, pretty much fluff, just a lil fun🤷🏾‍♂️

a/n: i didn’t know whether to make this a college au or high school au bc technically I’m bout to leave high school but I’m also not in college yet so idk what id get right or wrong sooooo I’mma play it safe and go freshmen in college???

tags: @bellaallebbella1 for the dt @pinkwright @inmyheadimobsessed @zayswriting @generallysapphic bc they’re the pioneers and my favs fr, and @vampzxi cuz it’s lowkey inspired the shuri high school headcannons even tho it’s not rlly even close but shoutout fr

alsooooo since just getting back into writing like this outside of school direction and im not used to writing a straight shot one shot, this gon be multiple parts IM SAWRIIIIIIIIII, it’s only 2 parts tho

AGAIN THIS IS MY FIRST FF IN A WHILE AND I DIDNT HAVE ANYONE PROOFREAD IM SAWRI IF THE PACING OR THE PLOT COMES OFF INCOHERENT😭😭

[MONDAY AFTERNOON]

Her smooth silk brown skin glistens

under the sunlit illuminated windows

as the water trickles

down her broad shoulders

to her god-crafted muscles,

flexing with every step they take

ever

slightly

out the pool.

Their chest heaving,

a slightly tired

yet heavy gaze

as they skim around the room at their peers,

eyes landing on one particular figure

with a similar look in their eye.

Her stoic demeanor is slowly replaced

with a playful smirk as she eyes...

wait…

SHE’S LOOKING AT ME-

SHIT!

Shuri snaps out of her internal monologue, jumping from the huge glass that peered into the school’s aquatic center, and quickly bolts through the double doors that lead to the hallway. When she’s out of sight, she slumps over, catching her breath. “Wow, Ms. Nakia would have either granted me an A+ or sent me to the principal’s office with the type of words I was thinking,” Shuri chuckles to herself.

After a brief pause at her words, her face heats up as she quickly facepalms in shame.

“What the hell am I saying?”

Reluctant, she trudges down the hall in embarrassment, making her way to the place she considered her third home: the science building computer lab (her second home was chemistry lab 2b).

In there resides Peter Parker and Ned Leeds, sitting around a desktop clicking away at some first-person shooter game, with an unwavering MJ Watson sitting a couple of seats away from the boisterous boys, head in a book per the usual. All three teens lined up in typical geeky fashion. Shuri slumps her book bag over a computer table, the sudden noise breaking the immersion of the boys who then looked up from their game, spotting the presence of their purple-clad friend.

“Dude, what have you been doing all this time?” Ned scowls. “We didn’t have any clubs today and we’ve been waiting for you for the past twenty minutes to walk to that new milk tea cafe MJ’s been telling us about.”

Not lifting her head from her book, MJ snarkily remarks, “She’s probably been too busy ogling the crap out of that poor girl over at the aqua center.”

Shuri’s face heats up as she’s quick to defend herself. “Cut it out! Of course I wasn’t!”

MJ smirks, still not looking up from her book. “Sorry, lemme rephrase that better: she’s probably been too busy eye fucking the crap out of that poor girl over at the aqua center.” Blood rushes through Shuri’s cheeks as she sputters incompressible excuses from her mouth, MJ giggling at her discomposure from her book.

“You’re such a mess, Shuri! When are you gonna finally buckle down and rizz her up– or at least go up and talk to the girl instead of borderline stalking her almost every afternoon?” Peter playfully pokes the purple-clad.

Shuri sucks her teeth, swatting him away. “One: the word ‘rizz’ sounds extremely uncanny coming out of your mouth. Please refrain from using that word around me again.”

Collective snorts bounce off the embarrassed white teen whose shit-eating grin twists into a poker face.

“Two: I don’t eye Y/N almost every afternoon.” Shuri pshaws and waves everyone off.

“Oh, my bad!'' Peter dramatically gasps, slapping a hand over his chest. “It’s every morning, lunch break, assembly, dinner break, class transition, and EVERY afternoon.” Collective snickers break out as Shuri backhands Peter, not harshly, but hard enough to derive a strained “ack!” out of him.

“But seriously, Shuri, it’s about time you try and get this girl’s number.” MJ goes on, finally looking up from her book and putting it on the table spine up. “It’s no use for you to keep on hopelessly pining after this girl from afar and not putting in the effort to actually pursue her.” Shuri slumps into a chair and releases an exasperated sigh.

“I do, but what would a versatile and talented girl want with a one-trick pony nerd like me?” MJ visibly cringes at the purple-clad’s words. “Ewww man, this isn’t the 80s! We are NOT living in a Disney Channel sitcom. There’s a lot of people would go for somebody as smart and intelligent as you, you know that.”

“Yeah, maybe to do their homework for them,” Shuri retorts. MJ pauses. “Hmmm, now that claim, I won’t completely disagree with...” “MJ!” Ned dramatically gasps as he lightly slaps MJ on the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to her, Shuri. You are perfectly capable of winning Y/N over just the way you are.”

The purple-clad snickers. “Now THAT was something you could’ve sworn was straight out of a Disney Channel sitcom.”

About 15 minutes later, the eccentric group of teens close up the computer lab and continue down the hallways with milk tea on their minds… except for Shuri. She trails behind the bunch, head hung low, peeping at Y/N’s Instagram.

As her walking gets slower as she’s gaping at her phone, the coil-haired nerd brushes her shoulder against what she thinks is just a wall. She lifts her head to notice the shorter, dark, and gorgeous swimmer— the same one on her phone that she still had in open view.

“Oh! Whassup, Miss Shuri!” Y/N’s eyes light up as he greets the taller.

Shuri’s breath hitches at the lovely emphasis put on her name, blood running cold as she quickly checks her peripheral to make sure the gang wasn’t around to humiliate her more than she already was.

Meanwhile, the teens heard what was going on behind them, but chose to continue on their merry way, intentionally leaving the two alone in the middle of the hallway.

She looks back at the short athlete and returns the greeting with a bashful smile. “What brings you here, Y/N?” The nerd quickly asks in a desperate attempt to carry the conversation, forgetting that people don’t need a reason to just roam the halls, something she mentally facepalms herself for right after.

“Nothin’ much,” Y/N chuckles at Shuri’s nervous efforts. “I’m just coming out of my swim practice. Mr. Namor was runnin’ me dry today.”

The athlete pauses as if she’s recalling something, the corners of her mouth slowly curling into a knowing smirk.

“I saw you peeping me over at the center earlier,” she drawls, “figured you wanted to speak to me about somethin’?” The athlete’s tongue subtly swipes across her bottom lip, as she gazes up at Shuri with a particular look in her eye, irises occasionally shifting down to the open Instagram page still on her phone, waiting for an excuse.

It was enough for the poor nerd to melt into a puddle, knees buckle and collapse, and lay sprawled across the hallway floor right then and there, but luckily for her, she still possessed a pinch of dignity left within her. With fleeting composure, gripping her backpack strap with strain, Shuri gives a weak pshaw.

“Me? I was just passing by! I just really like watching the team…”

You…

“...practice.”

As Shuri desperately attempts to form more words that can potentially save her, her eyes flicker to a *very convenient* bulletin board behind the shorter athlete. There, plastered on the brown surface was a poster: “CALLING FOR NEW MEMBERS! Swim Team Tryouts This Thursday at 5 pm! Swim Your Way To Success!”

Oh, Bast…

“In fact, I’m thinking of trying out for the swim team myself,” the nerd straightens up and states proudly, hoping she masked the way she winced at her words.

Y/N, who was expecting a different answer, gapes at the helpless girl in slight shock. “Oh, for real? That’s crazy! I never pegged you as a swimmer, Shuri.”

The nerd’s mouth forms a goofy grin. “And why is that?” She dramatically slaps a hand on her chest. “Is it because I’m of the darker persuasion?”

This derives a hearty cackle out of the shorter athlete, Shuri’s stomach fluttering from the fact that she made the girl laugh.

“Negro, please,” Y/N catches his breath and straightens up. “It’s because… I mean…” The shorter athlete trails off, eyeing Shuri up and down, the nerd’s cheeks heating up in the act.

“You know what? Nevermind. I can’t blame you for wanting to try. Hell, I’ve been swimming since 4 years old, the feeling’s exhilarating.” Y/N sighs off into the distance, as Shuri internally gushes at the shorter athlete’s passion.

Suddenly she snaps out of her trance and backtracks on the words of the other girl.

“Can’t blame me for wanting to ‘try’? Are you still assuming I can’t swim?”

Y/N waves his hands in defense. “No! I’m just saying–”

“Well I’m GOING to try out, I’m GOING to swim like a pro, and I’m GOING to get on the team!”

After a brief pause at her sudden outburst of competitiveness, Shuri reels it back in with a small “...respectfully,” and a cheeky smile.

Amused at the nerd’s sudden wave of confidence, Y/N clasps their hands together in accord. “Sounds like a plan then! I guess I’ll be seeing you Thursday then.” The shorter athlete readjusts the duffle bag strap on her shoulder and starts to walk closer to Shuri, laying an encouraging, yet, knowing hand on the taller’s shoulder, and leans into her ear.

Shuri could have sworn she was imagining what was rasped next.

“Word of advice: work on that backstroke… I know I will.”

Y/N then pulls away with an innocent grin and brushes past the appalled nerd, continuing on their merry way, but to suddenly turn around to yell one last thing:

“And your phone’s still on!”

Frozen in place, the girl slowly peers down to her cellular (one she made the mistake of changing the display settings to go into sleep mode after 5 minutes) still on Y/N’s Instagram page.

Once the athlete was out of sight, Shuri’s knees buckled as she grips the nearest wall, releasing a sigh of relief, quickly washed over with a wave of anxiousness.

What have I got myself into?

“Y’know a backstroke is a type of swim move, right?”

Riri chuckles at Shuri as she clicks away on her calculator, doing her homework on her bed. The young prodigy lifts her face from it being buried in her pillow and whines.

“But she said it so… sultry like… and her voice was so… raspy… it felt INTENTIONAL!”

“Or maybe your horny ass misconstrued her words and heard ‘backshots’ instead of ‘backstrokes’!” Riri giggled as Shuri proceeded to throw a pillow at the girl.

“Regardless, either word could be used as an innuendo, she did it on purpose,” Shuri retorts.

“Okay, okay, whatever. Sooo, what are you gonna do?”

Shuri flops back on her bed with a sigh. “I will try out for the swim team, like I said I would. I mean, she sounded so intrigued when I mentioned I was interested, and the passion in the way she speaks about it— I should at LEAST try.”

“Aww, I guess that’s fair,” Riri begins to coo. “If you knew how to swim.”

“Huh?”

“Shuri, I have never seen you TOUCH water unless it was for drinking or an experiment, let alone be EMERGED in water outside of taking showers and baths in it. We’ve had campus water activities and pool days before and each time you’ve said ‘I’m busy, I’m busy.’”

“Well I was, you know I have school work as my top priority.”

“We have them during school breaks, Shuri, you don’t work on a school break!”

Riri releases an exasperated sigh. “Shuri, can you swim or not?” The prodigy gives her friend a hesitant look. “I mean, I’m not the worst at it…”

“Shuri, just say you’re shit at swimming.”

“Fucking hate it.” Shuri blurts out. “Haven’t stepped foot into a pool since I was 6.”

“Damn it, Shuri!”

“You wanted me to be honest!”

Riri chuckles in disbelief, shaking her head. “That’s not even it, Shuri! Swim team try-outs are on Thursday, that’s in THREE DAYS! You barely know how to swim, what makes you think you’ll be ready within the next three days?”

“I’ll figure it out, okay?” Shuri stresses, trying to calm herself down. “I mean, you seem to know how to swim. Why don’t you teach me?”

“One: you dug this silly lil’ hole yourself,” Riri wags her finger at the prodigy, “I’m not helping you with shit. The most I’ll do is braid your hair back the night before so it can fit better in the swim cap you’ll have to put on. Two: I couldn’t teach you even if I wanted to because I wouldn’t have time, I’m stacked up on homework for the next few days.”

Shuri groans in her pillow, flopping back down on her bed once again. The young prodigy felt hopeless with no more ideas left… except for one last hope.

“No.”

“C’mon, brother! This is my love life on the line!”

T’Challa chuckles, crossing his arms. “You got yourself into this mess when you knew you couldn’t swim.” He raises is hands in defense. “You have a death wish, I am not helping you.”

“But that’s what Riri said!” Shuri whines.

“Well Riri is a good friend, keep her around. As for me, I have a gym to organize so I am going to continue what I was doing.” T’Challa does just that as he starts to pick up idle weights off the floor.

“I’ll pay you!”

“I have a job, and you’re a broke college student.”

“But with an internship!”

“An unpaid internship.”

“I’ll be your very best friend!”

“I’m your brother, and I already have plenty of friends.”

“Oh, like that old brute that works alongside you?”

“I heard that, you oversized midget!” A snarky coach M’baku scowls from the connected office.

“I’m 5’5!”

“And I’m 6’5, midget!”

Shuri rolls her eyes waves him off. “You work with that oversized man baby,” she sneers to T’Challa.

The older chuckles as he continues to tune out his sister’s persuasions while he tidies around the ring.

“Brother, please!” Shuri drops to her knees dramatically, rubbing her hands together in impatience. “I’m becoming desperate, I REALLY need your help!”

The younger continues to plead as the older man begins to cringe at the pathetic display, checking his peripheral to make sure she wasn’t causing a scene for unwarranted pedestrians that may walk past the gym.

“Okay okay, I will help you! Just stand up, PLEASE! You’re embarrassing me!” T’Challa quickly reassures the girl on the ground.

Shuri’s pleas quickly halt as she jumps to her feet, showering her brother with “thank you”s.

“Ahh, don’t thank me yet,” the older waves the girl off. “And I’m only going to be RE teaching you the basics. Any extra stunts you want to pull for your little girlfriend besides that will be on your accord.”

“Deal,” Shuri clasps her hands together.

“Now will you please leave me be? I have a gym to attend to.”

“Whatever,” Shuri remarks as she starts to head for the exit, “But just know I will be at the gym pool, bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow morning!”

The girl slaps the doorway wall and points at her brother, who both chuckles and cringes at her enthusiasm.

Once the bubbly teen was out of sight, M’baku wheels himself to the office doorway in his rolling chair.

“You know she’s going to drown herself.”

A reluctant T’Challa sighs. “Yep.”

To be continued headass…

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raina-at · 11 months

Text

Taxi

Sherlock raises his hand to summon a taxi. John keeps telling him that his ability to always get a cab to stop for him is uncanny. Sherlock never bothered to explain that it’s a combination of his awareness of the rules of the flow of traffic in London and the fact that he’s quite a bit taller than John and easier to spot. The second would have hurt John’s feelings and the first would have punctured the mystique, and Sherlock thinks the reason they’ve been married for twenty years without any major arguments is that they both know how to keep a bit of mystery intact.

Today, he is especially glad for this ability as he helps his heavily pregnant daughter into the vehicle.

The driver takes one look at them and says, “No. Get out. You’re not popping in my bloody backseat.”

Sherlock turns to him and narrows his eyes. “Sheffield, originally. Wife, two children, you played football semiprofessionally but blew out your knee, you have a mistress in Hounslow your wife doesn’t know about and you’re up to your neck in gambling debts. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes on the road and I won’t phone your wife to tell her about your extramarital activities.”

The taxi driver, who’s gone white as a sheet, swallows and nods, then turns around back to face the traffic.

Rosie is watching him with an awed expression. “Sometimes you scare me a bit,” she says, then grins. “That was brilliant! I can’t wait to tell Dad!”

Then her face contorts with pain and she doubles over with another contraction.

“Steady now, Watson, we’ll be at the hospital soon.” He settles her into her seat, then gets into the car and gives the driver the name of the hospital.

As soon as the cab moves into traffic, Rosie tilts over and rests against his side. “You texted Mark, right?”

“Yes, he said he’d meet us at the hospital.”

“And Dad?”

“On his way as well.”

Rosie’s quiet for a bit as she breathes through the pain. Sherlock can tell when the contraction fades as the tension goes out of her body and she releases the death grip she had on his hand. Her eyes are closed and she already sounds exhausted. She’s been having contractions on and off for several hours now, but both her midwife and John recommended staying active until the contractions grew more regular, so she stayed at 221B to help Sherlock sort through some of her childhood things to leave behind in London ahead of Sherlock and John’s move to Sussex.

“Paps?” she finally says, still leaning against Sherlock.

Sherlock hums once to let her know he’s listening.

“I’m having a bit of a problem.”

“Am I allowed to guess?” he asks, having learned form a experience that sometimes people don’t want their problems deduced, they want to tell you themselves. It took him about ten years of marriage and living with a teenager to learn this, but learn it he did.

“No,” Rosie grumbles. “It’s about the name.”

“What about the name?”

“Well…” Rosie hesitates, and then sits up to look at him. “I thought about naming my daughter Joanna after Dad.”

“Well, obviously,” Sherlock says, having guessed this about six months ago. “It’s a lovely name, your dad will be over the moon, what’s the problem?”

Rosie hesitates a bit more, then she takes a deep breath and blurts out, “I was trying to come up with a way to name her after you, too, but your names are just impossible to work with for a girl. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but I couldn’t think of a way to do it.”

Sherlock blinks, unsure what to say to this. It never occurred to him that Rosie would want to name her child after him. Her dad, obviously, but him…

“Dad had the same problem, by the way,” Rosie adds, “he told me once that he tried to work it in somehow, but he didn’t want to name me Wilma or Willhelmina, he says no kid deserves that. But it always bothered him, and it bothers me, too. I don't want you to think I'm picking Dad over you."

Sherlock huffs a laugh and bites his lips to keep the tears he feels building in his eyes from spilling. After twenty years, it's still sometimes hard to believe that he's as much Rosie's father as John is. It still takes him by surprise sometimes that the two people he loves most in the world love him back.

“Oh my god are you crying?” Rosie exclaims. “Are you getting sentimental on me, Paps?”

“You wait until you tell Dad about your chosen name, he’ll cry like a little girl.”

“Dad doesn’t cry.”

“Your wedding?”

Rosie rolls her eyes. “That was an once in a lifetime thing.”

“And the day his first grandchild is born, who will be named after him isn’t?”

“Bet you a fiver he’ll hold it together,” Rosie says with a grin.

“Easiest money I ever made.”

Rosie laughs and settles back against him. “So,” she says with a contented sigh. “What to do about my dilemma?”

Sherlock kisses the top of her head. “You’re forgetting one thing, sweetheart. "

“What’s that?”

“Your daughter’s full name. Joanna Watson-Holmes, like her mother, Rosamund Watson-Holmes. Your dad did what he said he would. He named you after me in the end.”

Rosie smiles. “Definitely getting sentimental in your old days, Paps.”

Sherlock looks out of the window and doesn’t even try to stop himself from getting misty-eyed at the thought of his little girl becoming a mother, about this new little girl which will be his and John’s and Rosie’s together. “Don’t mention it to the cab driver.”

He can hear the smile in Rosie’s voice as she answers, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

A bit of sentimental Parentlock - or Grandparentlock, I should say.

Thank you so much @calaisreno for keeping us going!

Tagging some of the usual suspects: @helloliriels @jrow @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @topsyturvy-turtely @thetimemoves @7-percent @totallysilvergirl @khorazir @catlock-holmes and anyone else who wants to play.

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #johnlock fic #my fic #parentlock #may 2023 prompts #taxi #tooth rotting fluff #you have been warned

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arguablysomaya · 2 years

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more batfam fic recs!!

oh my god i haven't done one of these in so long lets get straight into it

During Wayne galas, the children find themselves bored out of their minds. Their solution? They play a game of tag throughout the night. Bruce finds it endearing, even when they start to run around and cause a ruckus.

this is so siblings im gonna cryyyyy i can remember doing this stuff with my little brothers

“For the last time, I’m not getting sick!” Jason and Tim exchanged skeptical looks behind Dick’s back. “You’re pale, shivering, and wince every time your bare skin touches the cold metal desk.” Jason ticked off on grease smeared fingers, “Sounds sick to me.” “Wonderful observations, Holmes.” Dick muttered, still looking through the microscope. “What does Watson have to add?” “That first of all, I’m Sherlock.” said Tim, “And my associate is correct. You should go get some rest.”

dick grayson should never be trusted with his own physiological health

by @sohotthateveryonedied

Tim drops the knife like it’s white-hot. Oh, god. Oh, god.

Tim did this. He was…he didn’t mean it. He didn’t. He would never. But the man was on top of him and Tim couldn’t breathe, and…he didn’t mean it.

This trope always fucking gets me bruh. big brother jason ftw

by @ivy-and-ivory

[“I did not do anything,” Damian says. The words come out smaller than he would like. “No one did anything.” In his peripheral vision, he sees Todd tilt his head back, searching Gotham’s sky for nonexistent stars. “Okay. Then what happened?” Damian breathes deeply, the way his mother taught him as a child. “I – nothing happened,” he says, because it didn’t. “But – I cannot stop thinking that it will.”]

Or: Jason and Damian have a conversation about the meaning of family.

even more big brother jason!!

by @eliemo

Dick wants to send his brothers one last goodbye.

god. pain. dick is such a self-sacrificing idiot

Tim gets hit with Fear while on a league mission, and it's Damian's job to get him home in one piece.

fear toxin is literally the gift that keeps on giving i also love this authors voice

by @corvidspectre

“Would you like to- Hmm.” Bruce couldn't seem to find the right words. “There's a… Well, there's a small tradition that I have with all of the boys, from when they were smaller.”

“Oh, yeah?” Duke feigned disinterest. “Well I'm not exactly small these days, but I'm open to anything.”

“We could go get some ice cream?” He offered, and this has to be one of the most awkward conversations Duke has ever had the pleasure of being a part of, but he can't help but be touched by the gesture. He must have done this with all of the Robins, and well, for want of a better word it's nearly sweet that he wants to do it with Duke too.

i really like the way the author takes the time to actually write a bruce + duke relationship and not just make them immediate father son tropes

by @thatwisegirl08-6

"There's easier ways to run away, y'know, kid."

"I don't know what you’re talking about."

"Really?" The boy raised an eyebrow, giving Damian a meaningful appraisal. "Rucksack, clothes that don't fit, no parents or anyone around, lying your way places?"

"Why do you care? Why 'help' me? And damn it anyway, stop following me!"

damian runs away from the league onto to bump straight into one timothy drake. this goes about as well as you'd expect

ALSO by destiny aka @sohotthateveryonedied who is an absolute rockstar!! <3

“Yeesh. You’re grouchy when you’re handicapped.”

“Not handicapped.”

Cass hates that word. Handicapped is when you have a condition that keeps you from doing something you used to be able to do. It’s when a part of you is taken away, making you incomplete. Cass is still whole. A broken ankle won’t keep her from doing everything that makes her herself.

cass always has such an interesting train of thought

by @cerusee

“Babs and I are throwing you and Steph a joint birthday party,” Dick said. “It’s on Sunday the 13th, because that’s the only day everybody can make it. It's in the park. Bruce is grilling steaks, and I know you know how good he is at that. You’re coming.”

“Like hell I am,” Jason said.

i was reading this in class and i had to struggle not to laugh out loud. someone asked if i was constipated :/ check it out doe

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shouts-into-the-void · 1 year

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I'm rewatching Elementary (the other British Sherlock Holmes series lol) and I really think more people need to talk about this series.

Some of the many great things about it:

Watson is an Chinese-American woman and former surgeon turned sober companion

Demystifies Sherlock's deductions and takes great care to show that he and his friends/associates are equals, something that Sherlock himself points out frequently

Doesn't play Sherlock's drug addiction for laughs, and instead uses it to showcase how much work goes into getting and staying sober and the way it effects your entire life

You know how everyone always says they want a show where queer characters just exist without it being their entire personality or driving the narrative? This is that show

Ms. Hudson is a trans woman whom multiple cis men are stated to be madly in love with

One of the cases involves 2 different polyamorous couples, and Watson is directly stated to be unhappy in traditional, monogamous relationships

Watson also adopts and becomes a single mother, something that is shown to be strictly positive

Several characters have disabilities and chronic illnesses, including Gregson's 2nd wife Paige, who has MS and one of Sherlock's love interests Fiona, who is autistic

There is an episode titled "A Giant Gun Full of Drugs"

One of the later main characters takes very violent revenge on the man who kidnapped and raped her, and when she comes back after evading capture the police captain is literally like "Long time no see, lol, what attempted murder"

There is never any romantic tension between Watson and Sherlock just because Guy+Girl+Close Relationship must equal romance, and even when it's joked about it's usually to point out how ridiculous the idea would be. I personally interpret their relationship as queerplatonic as Watson moves an entire continent so they can stay together when Sherlock has to leave the country, and Sherlock is instantly ready to change his life around, make the house safe for kids, and co-raise her son when Watson expresses the desire to adopt. Also he names a species of bee after her.

That's not even all of it, but those are my favorites lol

#blog #letters #elementary sherlock #elementary rewatch #joan watson #doctor watson #sherlock holmes

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sandersgrey · 1 year

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"Kit's silence treatment to Ty isn't healthy because it's stewed in shame" uh YEAH. Nearly ALL of Kit's relationships are.

He's JUST starting to figure out a healthier dynamic with his family in Devon, and they havent done anything to upset him yet, so he hasn't had any reason to try and figure out healthy forgiveness.

The only real, meaningful relationship Kit is shown to have before the Institute was his dad, who we never see him saying no to.

You think Johnny Rook was out there showing Kit how to establish and enforce boundaries in a healthy way? Fuck no.

Kit was, as far as we're aware of, not only obedient to Johnny's wants but also willing to go out and put himself at risk by pickpocketing as as ten years old. He's not even outwardly angry when he realizes his own father didn't unconditionally love him.

Kit is consistently shown to be people pleasing when it comes to people he's attached to.

He jokes but plays Ty's Watson nearly as soon as he realizes that's what Ty wants from him; he assumes he has to repay Jessa for the love they show him before Jem assures him he doesn't; this all stems from Kit's core belief that love is earned.

And yeah, he thinks he hasn't earned Ty's. There is some deep shame in there, born from internalized homophobia, but also from Kit showing vulnerabilty for the first time in his life and getting... nothing. The realization that he means absolutely nothing to Ty.*

Of course he doesn't want to be reminded of that. The sheer humiliation would've killed a lesser teenager.

That's the same kid who saw a werewolf transform in front of him as a child and had a breakdown so public his dad pulled him out of school and kept him at home for at least five years, and he still has werewolf friends.

He dated someone who he was 50% sure was a werewolf, and only broke up w her bc it was too awkward... to not know if she was or not. He never hints that her being a werewolf would be a problem itself. It's just the awkwardness of asking.

He jokes that his dad isn't in heaven, but that's as far as his anger there goes. When he finds out that Johnny lied to him his entire life, Kit is upset. He's not mad.

This is the same kid who grew up being told shadowhunters snatch children, who had a knife held to his throat in his first close interaction with one, and still was able to become best friends and eventually fall in love with the exact same shadowhunter.

Kit can't do confrontations. He assumes that whenever a relationship goes wrong, it's because of something that makes him unlovable. That's obviously untrue and unhealthy.

But Kit doesn't hold grudges. He might avoid a more intimate relationship if things are awkward, but he's clearly willing to be close to people who he would be somewhat justified in believing have hurt him in the past.

The fact that he doesn't want to see Ty is stewed in shame.

The fact that he's so willing to enforce that boundary that he'll tell his friend's ghost that he won't talk to her anymore if she keeps trying to bring that up? That he's not rude, or mean, but honest about his unwillingness to be around Ty when Ty himself shows up?

Honestly, I'm kinda proud of him. That couldn't have been easy.

* Btw, this isn't Ty's fault. Ty was trying to bring back his sister from the dead and was not prepared for Kit to just straight up tell him he loves him. He needed 3-5 business days to process that, but, of course, both of their trauma responses clashed. That's what trauma responses often do.

#alex wont shut up #tda #kit herondale #kit rook #sobh #twp #tda meta #fuck johnny rook all my homies hate johnny rook #i saw a post saying that Months ago lmao it just takes me a while to Marinate

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meetinginsamarra · 11 months

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My fave Sherlock BBC AUs - Artists

Around mid-month I’ll do a fic rec list with my fave AU genres or tropes. Summaries are taken from OP on AO3.

ACTORS

“Performance in a Leading Role” (-series, +7 sequels) by Mad_Lori @madlori

Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world?

“Lifetime Achievement” (part 9 of Performance-sereis) by Mad_Lori

John Watson has just won an Oscar and gotten engaged in the same day. Now what? (Sequel to "Performance in a Leading Role")

“To the Sticking Place” by blueink3 @blueink3

Renowned Shakespearean actor Sherlock Holmes has finally burned all of his bridges in the theatre industry save for his constant director, Greg Lestrade. John Watson has made a name for himself in the musical theatre circuit, but age and injury are working against him. Can they reinvent themselves for an all-male Macbeth without killing one another?

“Much Ado about a Whole Bloody Lot” (sequel to Sticking Place) by blueink3

"What do you mean John has to kiss her?" "Sherlock, that's generally what happens when one is starring in a romantic comedy." Or, Sherlock goes to see John in his first role post-Macbeth and he's really not all that happy about it.

“Floating through a dark blue sky” by Lediona

Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

“Fading Stars and Black Holes” by lurikko

Sherlock Holmes, known from movies A Scandal in Belgravia and Don’t Make Me Choose, comes back to acting after two years. He’s starring in a romantic comedy about two men who move in together for practical reasons and stumble into a surprising friendship. The only problem is that his co-star is John Watson, a man whom he hasn’t seen since he left their shared flat two years ago, leaving John only a note. During the time they have been apart, John Watson has gotten to himself a wife, a child, and a divorce.

“The Short and Tragic Death of John Watson” by Calais_Reno @calaisreno

Thirteen years ago, Sherlock starred in a television series about an alien boy stranded on Earth. Now Molly has written a reunion episode and he's expected to join his old costars and recreate the role of Alex Tribble, now an adult returning to rescue his old friends from an alien threat. Having had some success since playing a teenage alien, Sherlock is reluctant to reprise the role. And there's another problem no one wants to discuss: John Watson, who played his best friend, is dead.

Warning: Nobody dies. John isn't dead. If you came here for angst and MCD, you won't find it. If you came here to find a cheesy, self-indulgent story with a ridiculous, contrived happy ending that I had way too much fun writing, here you go.

“Take Two” by Raina_at @raina-at

Six years ago, Sherlock Holmes, then a promising young actor, broke John Watson's heart. When the production John is working on needs a new lead actor two weeks before press night, they turn to Sherlock to save the production. Working together after six years won't be a problem. After all, both of them are professionals. And both of them have moved on. Or at least they think they have.

WRITERS

“How Novel-series” (14 fics) by StarlicghtAndFireflies

starting with A Novel Meeting

“Who should I sign it to?” The familiar question rolls off his lips easily, but somehow it feels more meaningful this time. He’s never met a fan quite so dedicated, quite so willing to lug an entire armful of books to get them all signed, quite so handsome even when he blushes. “Er… Sherlock,” the man replies. AU in which John is an author, and Sherlock is a fan who comes to his book signing.

“Poetry and Prose” by Jberry

John is a crime series writer. Sherlock writes serious poetry. Sherlock takes time on his writing blog to give John Watson a hard time about his writing, though he's secretly read all his books and in love with the author. Mistaken identity, new love, a little angst, fluff that progresses into... Well. You'll just have to read it, now won't you?

“Writer’s Block” by lookupkate

John has been writing detective novels for years, shitty, romance filled detective novels. That is until his last. Now he can't write a single chapter. When Greg seats him next to an asshole genius he doesn't have the slightest idea that it is exactly what he needs.

“Fortune Favours” by simplyclockwork @simplyclockwork

On military leave, John Watson discovers that his sister has signed him up for a blind date book event. The set-up is simple: one person brings a book and ends up on a blind date with whoever chooses their contribution. To say that John is reluctant to attend is an understatement. Luckily, sparks fly between him and a stunning new author when he makes an unorthodox selection from the book choices.

PAINTERS

“Oxidation” by abbykate

as oil paintings dry, the process is not evaporation as there is no water in the paint to disappear; instead, the oils in the paint are oxidised causing them to harden over years in a process that never really stops.

“Bloody Brushes” and by jawbonesandjumpers

Sherlock Holmes is a world-renowned art critic and collector who rarely finishes any of his own work. He is brutal and ends more artists’ careers than starts them, and he abhors the state of the art world today. John Watson is a recluse who was invalided out of the army and paints the horrifying scenes of his nightmares. When Sherlock stumbles across one of his works, he becomes obsessed with his paintings and wants nothing more than to meet the man behind the canvas.

“Pastel Paints” by jawbonesandjumpers

Sherlock finds his muse and John paints an angel.

“Art of the Reasoner” by Tellytubby101

A world in which Sherlock is an artist, not a detective. Though that doesn’t mean he can’t help solve crimes. AU.

#my fanfic recs #my fave Artist AUs #my fave AUs #Artist AU

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mariana-oconnor · 8 months

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The Abbey Grange pt 3

I'm fairly confident I've pieced this one together correctly. I'm a little annoyed that it appears that Lady Brackenhall didn't do it herself, but I suppose I'll allow it. I feel confident that she could have done it herself, though, had the narrative allowed her to.

...our door was opened to admit as fine a specimen of manhood as ever passed through it. He was a very tall young man, golden-moustached, blue-eyed, with a skin which had been burned by tropical suns, and a springy step which showed that the huge frame was as active as it was strong.

I stg, every time Watson describes someone in this story he gets hornier. 'As fine a specimen of manhood as ever passed through it.' Put your tongue back in your mouth.

He's looking respectfully.

I've always thought that how horny literally every version of Watson seems to be was just exaggerated, but no. Reading/rereading these as an adult shows me that Watson is exactly that horny on main.

And by 'on main' I mean 'in a widely distributed publication'.

"I know so much already that if you go one inch off the straight I'll blow this police whistle from my window and the affair goes out of my hands for ever.” The sailor thought for a little. Then he struck his leg with his great, sun-burned hand. “I'll chance it,” he cried. “I believe you are a man of your word, and a white man, and I'll tell you the whole story."

First, the captain's kinda racist, I guess.

Second, this is an exact template of what not to do when being interviewed regarding a crime you have committed. Never believe that they know everything. Never agree to tell them anything. Say nothing.

Captain Croker is kind of an idiot.

But then, given the racism, we already knew that.

"So far as I am concerned I regret nothing and I fear nothing, and I would do it all again and be proud of the job."

This is also exactly what you should not say in this situation. He's just determined to be a waking talking exemplar of what not to do, I guess. And he's doing a great job of it.

"...many a time since have I kneeled down in the darkness of the night watch and kissed the deck of that ship because I knew her dear feet had trod it."

That seems unsanitary. Sir, please desist.

Is this why they transferred you to another ship? So people would stop coming across you licking the deck? People walk on that. Sir. Sir, please.

This is yet another example of things you shouldn't do. Just in case you were wondering.

If you want to kiss her feet and you're both into that, go for it. But don't just, like... kiss the dirty deck of a ship where hundreds of people have walked because she walked there. Not only is it unhygienic, it's kind of stalkery.

Yeah.... no.

This guy is giving unhinged vibes.

"One day out in a country lane I met Theresa Wright, her old maid. She told me about her, about him, about everything."

Theresa 100% knew what she was doing here. There is no way she looked at this guy literally kissing the ground Mary walked on and didn't realise that he would be down to murder. Theresa wins the prize here. Excellently executed. Get the dumb stalker to kill the abusive husband. A+ work. She deserves a raise.

"This drunken hound, that he should dare to raise his hand to her whose boots he was not worthy to lick!"

Was not expecting to tick off 'foot fetish' on my Sherlock Holmes bingo card, but there we go.

"Theresa was always my friend, for she loved Mary and hated this villain almost as much as I did. From her I learned the ways of the house."

My dude, my dude. Theresa fucking played you.

"At first she would not open to me, but in her heart I know that now she loves me, and she could not leave me in the frosty night."

That's a really quick turn around from 'it was only friendship for her and I was happy with it' to 'I know she loves me now'.

"Theresa was as cool as ice, and it was her plot as much as mine."

It was all her plan. I bet she made sure the husband was awake at the right time.

"...since she was trying hard to shield him and so showing that she loved him."

Really? Was she though?

"See here, Captain Croker, we'll do this in due form of law. You are the prisoner. Watson, you are a British jury, and I never met a man who was more eminently fitted to represent one."

I guess Watson has enough horniness in him for 12 people.

I mean, I don't have a problem with the guy being allowed to go free, the victim literally burned a puppy alive. Also, I'm pretty sure he was manipulated into being there at the right time. Because there's no way a maid who has been frequently mentioned to be really good at her job, just blurts out her mistress's private business to a guy they met on a boat in the middle of the road. She knew what she was doing. And the husband just happened to come along?

"Come back to this lady in a year, and may her future and yours justify us in the judgment which we have pronounced this night.”

I note that this is as much of a 'happily ever after' as we get for this story. I choose to believe Mary had already moved on in a year and had given up the pretence of being in love with him.

But I am cynical, as we have previously discussed.

#Letters from Watson #The Abbey Grange #Sherlock Holmes #long post

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malevolent-muse · 3 months

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The Consulting Detective and the Case of the Red Arse - JohnLock Fan Fiction by Malevolent_Muse

Sherlock goes home to his boyfriend, John Watson, and finds himself in a rather unexpected situation. Despite being exhausted from a long day's work, Sherlock musters the requisite energy to engage is some kinky hijinks with his loving Dom.

Exhaustion was putting in mildly. Sherlock Holmes was so tired that it felt like every muscle of his well-formed body was aching simultaneously. It had been a long and strenuous day. So hectic in fact, that he hadn’t even had the time to take a piss. What a relief it was to finally be home. He couldn’t wait to just relax and decompress.

Fumbling with his keys as he ascended a couple of steps outside of 221B Baker Street, he entered the building and took the flight of stairs leading to the flat he shared with his boyfriend. Trying not to make much noise as to not to alert the landlady that he was home, Sherlock hoped that Mrs Hudson would not find it necessary to come out and bother him.

The detective also speculated what it was that had kept John at home all day and not by his side.

It had been a tumultuous affair, the beginning of their relationship. Sherlock had never meant to pursue a romantic connection with anyone, let alone a man, but the instant connection he had felt to the military doctor had been, in a word, insatiable. It had taken a giant’s share of self-control to wait until they had got to know each other for longer than a fortnight to make his move.

“John,” Sherlock called as he pushed open the wooden panelling of their door.

Stopping abruptly, he caught sight of his boyfriend, fully clothed, sitting on a straight-backed chair in the sitting room, a look of pure lust on his face.

“Sherlock,” John articulated, “come here.” The level of authority and power the doctor carried in his voice alone was impressive.

The detective’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Ever since Sherlock confessed that a bit of submission made him weak at the knees, he worried that John would be disappointed in his partner. Instead, the doctor took it in stride and he and Sherlock had been dabbling in the world of dominant and submissive role-play on occasion. However, the detective never imagined his boyfriend would actually get up the courage to take the lead.

“John,” he gaped, his mouth falling open and eyes going wide. “What…? I… Just give me a second. I gotta piss.”

“Did you not hear me, bitch!” John snarled. “I said come here.”

“But—“

“I SAID NOW!”

That tone made Sherlock’s dick throb and he knew he was a goner. Dropping his keys to the floor, he quickly closed the gap between him and the doctor. All he wanted to do was kiss those soft lips and slide his tongue between them.

“Stop,” John ordered when the detective was less than a foot away from him. “Undo your trousers.”

“Yessir,” came Sherlock’s reply as he more than willingly complied with the directive.

“Come stand right here,” John ordered as he pointed a spot next to the chair.

Humming appreciatively, the detective was once again quick to comply.

Tugging at the hem of the slacks, John soon had both them and the plaid underpants Sherlock was wearing bunched up around his boyfriend’s knees.

“Bend over my lap.”

If Sherlock hadn’t been hard before, he certainly was now upon hearing those words. Damnit, John had him wrapped around his little finger.

Leaning over, the detective did his best to get in a position that best suited the situation. It was an odd position to be in, that was for sure. His knees bumped into the legs of the chair and his feet were left awkwardly balancing the remaining weight on the toes of his shoes. His belly rested on John'ss thighs which caused his upper torso to be angled slightly downward as he rested his hands on the hard wooden floor beneath him. Blood would’ve rushed to his head if it hadn’t already been allocated to his dick.

“You have been a very naughty detective,” John declared as he smoothed his hand over his boyfriend’s plump arse cheeks. “Gone all day. Leaving me waiting and pining over you like some bitch.”

The way John'ss fully articulated the ‘ch’ sound at the end of bitch sent a strange twinge up and down Sherlock’s spine. Sure, there was an element of pleasure but also one of fear. It was utterly delightful.

“Well, I’m no bitch,” John continued. “You are.”

And with that final proclamation, he brought his hand up and brought it firmly down on Sherlock’s luscious arse.

The clap it made echoed against the walls of the room. The detective heard it before he felt it, the sting. And it did sting. So much so that it brought a tear to his eye.

Sherlock was by no means a masochist. However, there was something about brute physical contact that made his eyes roll back in his head. It wasn’t the pain, it was the feeling of the pain subsiding. Almost as if the pain was melting away and took all of Sherlock’s stress and tension with it.

Basking in the sensation, Sherlock was almost startled when John smacked him once more.

“You know what you are, don’t you?” John asked.

“Mmmm? Tell me,” the detective returned.

*smack*

“Mind your manners, bitch. You address me as sir. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

*smack*

“Yes, sir,” Sherlock yelped.

“Good,” John chuckled as he gently rubbed the now reddened cheeks.

“Please, sir,” the detective asked his boyfriend, desperate to hear what dirty things the doctor had to call him, “tell me what I am?”

“Ah, I see that someone is greedy and impatient today.”

*smack*

“But,” John continued, “lucky for you I’m in a good mood. So good a mood that I don’t mind telling you what a wanton slut you are.”

*smack*

“You’re a whore, you know that bitch, don’t you? A fucking cock sucking whore.”

*smack*

The pain was getting a bit intense and Sherlock shifted uncomfortably. Clearly, John took note as he switched to rubbing that firm bubble butt beneath his hand. However, he did not stop verbally degrading the detective.

“Such a dirty boy, walking around with a face like yours and an arse just begging to be pounded. I bet you’d let anyone fuck you. Just let any stranger come up and bend you over. Or would you prefer to be fucked face to face, your legs pushed back. That way whatever stud is breeding your arse can also play with those muscular pecs of yours. I just love how you respond when I tug on those erect nipples. Sure thing that others would as well.”

*smack*

This last slap made Sherlock’s hips buck and his already painfully hard member brushed against the side of John's thigh.

“Uggghhhh,” the detective groaned, enjoying the attention his ass was getting but desperately wanted more.

*smack*

“Bitch, don’t you dare think about humping me like some damn dog. You hear me?”

Truth be told, Sherlock was distracted by John's fingers which were now running along his crack and teasing the sensitive nerves around his back passageway. This was until another slap brought him back to his senses.

“You’re just a greedy slut who wants his bitch hole filled; a fucking cum dump. I bet you think of nothing else. You want every orifice fucked and stretched so you’re left gaping.”

Seriously, this dirty talk was making Sherlock drool. That plus the ebb and flow of pain was making him delirious.

*smack*

“Mmmpfff,” Sherlock moaned but this last spank flipped some sort of switch and all thoughts of pleasure fled at the pressure of an urgent need. “ John, wait!”

“Wait?” John replied as he reached further down and grasped the detective’s cock. “Wait for what? Is my bitch going to cum from a few spanks and dirty talk alone? Or do you want me to help you along?”

“No, I—“

*smack*

A small jet of liquid snuck its way down and out of Sherlock’s urethra.

“Did you just cum?” the doctor asked. “I didn’t give you permission to cum.”

*smack*

Despite tightening his muscles in that region, another small spurt occurred. This was beyond humiliating.

“John, stop,” Sherlock pleaded as he tried to slide from his boyfriend’s grip.

Ever cognizant of his own inexperience, he had been very specific about consent and his ability to utilize safewords during any role-play scenes. Going with the basic green, yellow, and red system, Sherlock knew he could call out that three-letter word at any moment and the scene would immediately end. Additionally, he knew he could easily overpower the doctor at any moment.

Instead of shouting ‘red’ or forcing his way out of John's hold, the detective continued to his less than genuine efforts to escape.

“Un-uh, no you don’t,” John responded as he held firm and gave Sherlock’s succulent arse another slap so hard it made his cheeks jiggle.

This action only led to another inevitable leak.

“Oh!” the doctor exclaimed as he realized what was happening. “My dirty boy is wetting himself. So naughty!”

*smack*

Sherlock was a firm believer in staying well hydrated, so the liquid dripping from between his legs was clear and relatively odourless. Still, the total humiliation he was feeling was beyond anything he could express in words. And the depravity of the situation was only feeding into his all-consuming animalistic desire for more.

Whatever pheromones he was giving off must’ve been affecting John as well because the doctor wasn’t slowing down. If anything, it only spurred him on to continue his administrations.

“You are so bad, Sherlock Holmes. What am I to do with you?” John inquired as he reached down and tugged on the detective’s cock a few times, getting his hand wet and dripping in the process.

*smack*

As John's hand made contact with Sherlock’s ass, the wetness not only amplified the sensation but also the sound as well. Droplets were flung into the air surrounding the detective’s backside.

“Fuck!” Sherlock cried as whatever resistance he had left in him fled his body and he let his bladder loose. The sheer feeling of relief was practically euphoric and he felt all his bones go to jelly as he went as limp as a rag doll.

“You’re disgusting,” John sneered as he pushed his boyfriend to the floor. “So disgusting, in fact, that I don’t think you’re worth much to me now that I know what type of sicko you really are.”

John's words were a clear contradiction to the erection he sported, made extremely evident as he stood from his chair to tower over Sherlock. It only took him a second to free his cock before he began to pump his shaft.

“Nasty piece of gutter trash whore fucking cum dump cunt.”

Sherlock doubted he had ever heard a more beautiful phrase in his entire life.

The doctor’s frantic motions indicated that, with all the build-up, he wouldn’t last long. The wet rapid sounds of skin on flesh and the groan of some sort of beast preceded John's climax. Eyes rolling back and breathing heavily, he ejaculated onto Sherlock’s upturned face.

“Holy fucking hell,” John muttered after he caught his breath and reached down to help his boyfriend up. “That did not go as I had planned.”

“Best things never do,” Sherlock grinned as he pulled his boyfriend into a kiss.

The pair came together, their lips brushing lightly before the detective pushed his tongue inside the doctor’s mouth and claimed it for his own. The sheer amount of intensity behind the kiss was punctuated by the sloppy sounds lips and tongues dancing together and the occasional clink of teeth on teeth.

“Come,” John noted pulling away, “let’s get you out of those clothes and in the shower.”

“Only if you promise to join me,” Sherlock growled, baring his teeth.

Bending down to help the detective get his shoes off so he could remove his now damp underwear and slacks, John replied, “I’d like nothing better.”

Leaving a trail of clothes behind them, Sherlock and John were both naked by the time they made it to the washroom. They were both so lust-drunk at the moment that they actually reached their destination was a miracle in and of itself. Blindly seeking what they both craved, their mouths barely parted from each other ever since John had pulled his detective up off the floor.

Sherlock, in particular, was having a hard time keeping his passions at bay. Their spanking session had left him so hot and bothered he’d of liked nothing better than to toss John's lithe and fit body to the floor and ravage his boyfriend’s tight arse right then and there. However, experience had taught him that fucking on hard surfaces was not the most comfortable type of encounter, leaving unwelcome abrasions and bruises on them both.

Bruises…

“Fuck,” Sherlock thought, “I wonder how bruised and red my ass is right now.”

It turned him on to think about carrying around physical markings indicative of his lover’s passion. A sideways glance over his shoulder at the mirror hanging above the bathroom sink afforded him only the briefest glimpse before John slid the frosted glass panel of the shower stall door open and pulled Sherlock in with him.

Metal grated softly against metal as John slid the door shut behind them.

“Let’s get you clean,” John said as he turned the squeaky knob of the facet, catching them both in a cascade of frigid drops before the shower had warmed up.

Shivering slightly, Sherlock shook the water from his eyes as he leaned down to nibble lightly at the nape of John's neck.

Huffing softly, the doctor gently pushed him down in front of him. A position Sherlock was more than happy to be in since it gave him easier access to John's dick. Not skipping a beat, he eagerly sought the flaccid, yet still delicious, cock with his mouth.

“No,” John scolded, pushing Sherlock off of him with one hand as he reached up and grabbed the detachable showerhead from off the wall with the other. “Still too sensitive. I’m not ready for another round yet.”

A low growl rumbled in the detective’s throat at being denied what he wanted, but he did not verbally protest as John began to rinse him off with the nozzle. The water was warm now and Sherlock basked in the glorious feeling of massaging pressure as his boyfriend ran his fingers behind the streaming jets of water hitting his skin and scalp. If his eyes weren’t already closed, he’d be rolling them backwards in bliss.

“Keep your eyes shut. I have a treat for you. I’m sure you’re going to like it.”

Doing as he was told, Sherlock sensed the shower nozzle being pulled back and a different sort of stream hit him in the face. Although voluntarily blinded, he could certainly smell what John was doing to him. His boyfriend was pissing on him. Pissing on his face! As greedy as the detective was for John's fluids, he hadn’t expected that he would do such a thing. But given what had just occurred between them in the main room, he supposed he shouldn’t have been totally surprised.

“That’s how animals mark their territory, isn’t it, Sherlock? This way everyone knows that you’re my bitch. I own you.”

These words went straight to Sherlock’s inner animalistic-self as well as to his cock. Feeling the piss dripping from his dark eyelashes and on his cheeks, he was tempted to lift his hands up and gather up as much of liquid as possible so he could smear it all over his body. Unfortunately, John chose this moment to bring the shower head back up and rinse him off once more.

The whole shower experience had been wonderful so far but it would be even better if his boyfriend would let him have a turn receiving a different sort of stimulation. John might’ve cum already but he hadn’t. Sherlock’s hard cock throbbed and yet he dared not touch it without permission; since he wasn’t sure, with the ending of the golden shower, if John was done playing the dom.

“Up,” John ordered.

“Okay, so not done yet.” Excitement buzzed in his stomach at this realization and it made his dick spurt a bit of precum.

Obediently, Sherlock stood and watched as his lover gently glided the shower head over his chest, his arms, his abdomen, his upper thighs, and, finally, his aching cock. But this last bit was excruciatingly brief and over far too soon as John pulled the nozzle back and directed him to turn around.

“Hands up against the glass. I don’t want you touching yourself while I get you clean.”

“Yessir,” Sherlock gasped, too aroused by the prospects of what would be happening next to put any more thought into audible words.

The heat from the shower steamed up the frosted glass and as he placed his hands flat on the smooth panel, lines of condensed moisture dribbled down its walls.

John was now working on his back and drawing lazy lines along the sinewy well-defined muscles there.

Completely helpless beneath the soft caresses, Sherlock groaned and arched his back into the pressured stream of water. John's fingers went lower until a sharp intake of breath between clenched teeth was indication enough to him that it was best to be gentle with the bruised ass.

“Oh?” John questioned, as he moved the nozzle lower and placed it against Sherlock’s asshole. “Has my detective had enough for today?”

“Mmmmfffphh,” Sherlock moaned in response.

He definitely had not had enough. He desperately wanted more.

“Well then…” John proclaimed as he placed the showerhead back in its holder, “Let’s see if we can finish getting you cleaned up and maybe we can play some more. I think I’m about ready for another round anyway.”

“Ugh,” the detective thought, “thank goodness for John’s short refractory periods.”

Pulling the soap from the wall-mounted dish, John glided the slippery white bar across Sherlock’s round cheeks; repeating the motion until the detective’s ass was covered in suds.

“What about this hole here?” John asked sarcastically as he brushed his slippery fingers along the rim of Sherlock’s puckered hole. “Is it dirty? Do I need to clean you out here as well?”

Biting his lower lip, Sherlock trembled as John pushed one of his slippery digits past the ring of muscle.

“Well? I asked you a question, bitch. Aren’t you going to answer?”

“I… uh…” Sherlock mumbled, his mind not cooperating or thinking straight as he basked under so much intimate attention.

“Tell me,” John demanded, “tell me you’re a dirty boy who wants his whore hole cleaned out.”

“Fuck…”

“Nice sentiment, but wrong answer, bitch.”

As communicating verbally during intimate acts had never been his strong suit, Sherlock was completely past words at the moment. Still, the idea of John stopping, if he didn’t answer, was unbearable. Consequently, somehow he managed to eke out a mumbled response.

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir what?”

Sherlock growled but cut this off when it earned him a sharp swat to his tender ass.

“Fuck!” he hissed. “Yes, sir I’m a dirty boy… P-please, clean out my hole.”

“I guess that will do for now. But just so it’s clear, we’re going to have to put some work in on your manners,” John growled a bit himself in reply as he pushed another slippery finger into the detective’s ass.

His forehead pressed against the relative coolness of the glass, Sherlock listened to the lewd sounds of John's fingers prepping him beneath the shower’s pitter-patter. Squirming ever so slightly at the chemical tickled resulting from John's soapy digits.

Sherlock wonders when John would stop and break out the lube. In the heat of the moment, he hadn’t noticed if John had stocked any in the shower. Then, feeling the blunt head of John's cock at his back entrance, surely his boyfriend knew that soap did not make a good substitute for lubricant. Granted, it was fine to use for a bit of fingering but anything beyond that would sting.

However, his wonderings didn’t stop Sherlock from pushing his ass back on John's delightfully long and thick appendage. He was too greedy for cock to fill his back bitch hole to care about it too much at the moment.

“It’s fine,” he told himself, “I can take it.”

“That’s right,” John growled in his ear, pushing into him in one strong soapy thrust. “Fuck yourself on my dick you fucking bitch. I’m going to get that dirty whore hole of yours so clean. Clean enough I might be tempted to stick my tongue in it when I’m done.”

Sherlock’s only response was to moan as he felt his ass clench around the penis it now held.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You like having things in your arse, don’t you bitch?” John asked as he began to slowly piston his hips in the small space of the shower stall. In the slickness of the shower, he gripped Sherlock’s hips with both hands for leverage and stability.

The soap had moved beyond a tickle and was starting to sting at this point. Sherlock was tempted to pull away. He could deal with pain as long as it dissipated but, unlike his earlier spanking, this wasn’t dissipating. If anything, it was increasing along with John’s fervour. Still, the sensation of a cock sliding over his prostate was so potent and his dick didn’t seem to have a problem with the discomfort. It was just as hard as ever as it bounced in time with his boyfriend’s thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” John gasped, “you should see yourself, spread open on my cock and frothing. I’m going to fucking cum in your ass. You want that don’t you? Huh? Don’t you?”

“Don’t,” Sherlock breathed. “Stop.”

Whether or not he was asking for relief or continual punishment, John didn’t seem to notice and continued his with his fucking and the dirty talk. Either way, Sherlock hadn’t used their safe word so the meaning behind his pleas did not matter.

With every thrust, John punctuated his actions with words.

“I going to fucking cum in your arse.”

Sherlock’s eyes were tearing profusely at the burn and how John's cock was pushing in and spreading him wide.

“Froth that up so it’s dripping out of your ass just like the soap.”

“Fuck,” Sherlock groaned. The soap was stinging so much he wouldn’t be able to think at all soon.

“Breed you like the bitch you are.”

If John kept pounding him so hard Sherlock feared he might see that frothy soap mixture turn pink with blood soon.

“Fucking cock sucking whore.”

Even if his boyfriend did tear his ass, it would be okay, Sherlock tried to convince himself. He would heal.

“Hurts, doesn’t it? You like pain, you sick cunt.”

Sherlock moans were starting to turn into small broken sounds and his mind began to race. “Not this much pain, John! You’ve lost your mind. And I’m about to lose mine. Damn, this hurts.”

“You’d like me to tear you in two, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck!”

John mistook the exclamation for pleasure and he thrust even harder.

“You’d look so sweet all bruised and bleeding for me.”

“John!” Sherlock finally yelled, the pain pushing him past his breaking point.

“That’s right. Say my name, bitch!”

That was it. Sherlock had to call it quits. He couldn’t take anymore.

“Red!” he gasped. “Red, red, redred, redredredred.”

John had pulled out at the first mention of that three-letter word but that didn’t stop Sherlock from breathing it out over and over again. The instant he was no longer impaled on John's dick, he slumped to the shower floor.

“Sherlock,” John's voice was full of concern as he crouched next to his boyfriend, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. What’s wrong?”

“The soap,” Sherlock panted, “it burns.”

His actions halted and fumbling, John grabbed the shower nozzle down from the wall and started to do his best to rinse away any evidence of suds or bubbles that clung to Sherlock’s skin. Turning down the temperature slightly so as not to cause any more discomfort, John did his best to hose out Sherlock’s ass. Directing the stream of water in and then letting it run back out of the pretty pink gape he had made. He repeated the action until the water ran clear of any trace of soap.

Straining against the pain of the burning, Sherlock gritted his teeth so hard the sinews in his neck were probably bulging. Fortunately, under John's care, the sting slowly faded and soon he could breathe again. Surprised at the level of pain his boyfriend had caused was nothing compared to the euphoric feeling of it dissipating. And the fact that John was treating him in such a kind and cherished fashion made it exponentially better.

It also helped that the twinge of embarrassment he felt at the intimate nature of being internally cleaned sent exquisite shivers up and down his spine and made his cock ache. The damn thing had a mind of its own and had stayed very much erect the entire time despite its owner’s torment.

“Sherlock,” John begged, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were in so much pain. Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” Sherlock sighed as he allowed John to pull him into a loving embrace. “No harm, no foul.”

“No.” John voice was laden with contrition.“I should’ve been paying better attention to your reactions. It’s my fault. I just got caught up in the scene and let it go too far.”

Shrugging, the detective lay in John's arms as he watched the water spurting from the discarded shower head on the stall floor. “I should have stopped you earlier. Not tried to endure it for so long.”

"I don't understand you, sometimes," John admitted. "You'll prattle on for hours about types of tobacco smoke or woollen fibres but ask you to communicate during sex and it's like pulling teeth."

Rather than to say anything aloud, Sherlock simply smirked and gave a small shrug.

“Damn, well I guess we’ll just have to keep working on this sub/dom thing until we get it right,” John teased. Then leaning in a bit more, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of Sherlock’s head and whispered, “I love you.”

Sherlock suppressed a smile as he leaned into the kiss and replied, “I love you too.”

Taking John's hand in his own, Sherlock smoothed his long fingers over the back of his lover’s hand. The two of them sat naked, wet, and entangled in each others’ limbs for a few moments before Sherlock took that hand he was holding and directed it towards his cock.

He was done being submissive for the evening.

“Oh,” John hesitated for a moment before he started working his hand up and down Sherlock’s throbbing shaft. “And here I thought you wouldn’t want to continue.”

“Don’t be foolish, Doctor Watson. Of course, I want more.”

“You always want more,” John teased.

“Mmmmh,” Sherlock hummed his agreement, closing his eyes and focusing on the feel of the hand on the sensitive skin of his cock. The way John rubbed his thumb over the slit at the top each time before his hand made its way down.

“How much more could you take?”

“That depends on whether we are referencing cock or pain.”

Lighting upon the idea of more cock, John inquired, “I wouldn’t put wanting more cock past you. Can you imagine, getting fucked by more than one cock at a time? One in your mouth and one in your ass. Maybe two if you can handle it. They’d stretch out that puckered hole so wide the skin would be smooth.”

Ugghhh!

Sherlock had been holding out for too long and that last bit from John was enough to send him right over the edge. His head thrown back and resting on his boyfriend’s shoulder, his neck elongated and Adam’s apple bobbing as his breathing momentarily faltered.

“With all that cum in you,” John added in a dirty whisper, “you’d really earn the title of Cum Dump.”

The hand around his cock had quickened in pace and Sherlock found himself coming all over his own chest and John's hand.

“Fuck,” John sighed before taking an index finger and swirling it around in the spent seed on Sherlock’s chest before inserting it into his mouth. “We should have sex in the shower more often.”

Basking in the glow of orgasmic bliss, Sherlock was practically floating. However, he did have the space of mind to add with a grin, “Sure. As long as we keep a bottle of silicone-based lube on hand.”

xxx

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foreveralwaysanauthor · 6 months

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Butchy's Basic Info

Name: Biagio Antonio Bandoni

Now, I must say, it was only hard for me to pick one 60s - Michael Parks 80s - Tom Cruise (Top Gun) 90s - Barry Watson (7th Heaven) now - Cody Christian (All-American)

Nicknames: Butchy, Butch (close friends only), Babs (Lela’s first nickname for him when they were little that sort of stuck through the years), and Forty (his football number in high school that some of the locals call him)

Age: 21

Date of Birth: April 18

Zodiac: Aries

Birthstone: Diamond

Nationality: Italian-American

Sexuality: Straight

Birthplace: Their old family home in Tampa, Florida

Current Residence: Three Palms Point, St. Pete Beach, Florida

Occupation: Mechanic

Talents/Skills: He’s played piano since he was little, he’s great at keeping plants alive (unlike his sister), he can write pretty good poems and short stories if he has the chance to sit and focus, and he can fix almost anything if he puts his mind to it - not just cars and bikes.

Birth order: Oldest of two

Siblings: Lelanna “Lela” Charlotte

Parents: Enzo Ferruccio Bandoni and Stella Valentina Bianchi

Signature:

Height: 6’2”

Race: White

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Dark brown, almost black

Glasses or contact lenses: Just reading glasses and, though he can read without them, if he goes too long without them, he gets migraines.

Distinguishing features: Multiple injuries from a motorcycle accident, most scars remaining in the area around his shoulder, upper back, and ribcage. Also, he has two tattoos - Mick’s initials under his wedding ring to match the one she has of his initials, and a small moth on his ribcage (a representation of transformation, change, hope, and new beginnings).

Mannerisms: Constantly spinning his wedding ring, running his hands through his hair, and humming while he works on things

Health: He’s in pretty good health, but he gets pain in his back and shoulder when it rains, something he says makes him feel a lot older than he is.

Hobbies: Writing, playing football, drag racing on the weekends with friends (much to Mick’s chagrin), making incredible grilled cheese sandwiches, and playing piano on his days off

Greatest flaw (in their opinion): How stuck in his ways he can be. Butchy likes things the way they are. He’s used to doing things a certain way and he doesn’t like when things go off of their typical course. Butchy likes routine and normality - the usual ebb and flow of life - but when something or someone interrupts the flow of his life, he sometimes struggles to find a way to allow them in. You’d see this a lot when new people are introduced to his life who aren’t directly related to the people he cares about. While he was great at accepting Royce and Bentley into his life, allowing Carrie into the picture was a years-long struggle. Sometimes, he has a harder time letting new things happen, but he’s learning how to handle that at his own pace with the help of those around him.

Best quality (in their opinion): Selflessness. As the designated dad friend of the group, he’s forever putting other’s needs before his own - sometimes to his own detriment - but he’s proud of the fact that everyone sort of turns to him when they need something. They know he’s there for them no matter what and he loves it when someone comes to him, looking for help or even just someone to talk to. Regardless of whether or not he had plans already, he would set nearly anything aside for a friend or family member. His friends constantly come to him when they need help and he can’t help but smile and agree as he feels needed for something. When the kids come up asking him for help with friendship issues or drama problems or, heck, even dating issues, he feels like a proud dad/uncle. It makes him feel complete, in a way, that the people he loves would come to him for help.

Biggest fear: Being unable to protect those he cares about. He first realized this when he and Lela were younger and he found out she was being picked on. Being older and stuck in the next school up from her, he was unable to rush to her aid whenever she needed him, and it hurt. By the time Miles came into the picture, he was taller, stronger, and able to help, but he wasn’t there when Miles got jumped - another tally on the list of people he couldn’t protect. When Mick came around, he originally pushed back the idea of being with her to save himself from letting down someone else. However, that didn’t last long and he’s done everything in his power to keep her safe. When he sees the kids running around town on their bikes, causing their typical mayhem, he wants to join them to make sure nothing happens, but forces himself to stand back with the knowledge that he’ll be there when they fall. He hates the thought of being unable to protect the people he cares about, but he’s working on being able to understand that he can’t surround the whole world in bubble wrap just to make sure nobody gets hurt.

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Favorite ice cream: Banana cream pie

Favorite color: Blue

Favorite number: 40, for his football number, and 320, for the date he and Mick got married on - March 20th, the first day of spring.

Favorite songs: You Rang My Bell by Jamey Foxton, Somebody To Love by Queen, and I Was Made for Lovin’ You by KISS

A place they want to visit: Monte Carlo, Monaco

#character info

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hazelcephalopod · 6 months

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Finally got around to watching Bodies and so far admittedly I like it. The story is intriguing. They are pulling my off each time period well. Also I’m only on episode three but imo so far two points I want to talk about (one is real meta the other is, well, I must mention it)-

Regrettably they are all cops. Fortunately they are all the cops that have some sort of non typical background that makes them outsiders in their eras. 1890 we have Alfred Hillinghead, who is a) kinda just the nicest more actually seems to care guy there; b) closeted queer or realizing it as the show goes on (I have not decided). 1941 we had Charles Whitehead, one of few possibly the only Jewish man on the force? And he clearly has some deep trauma due to the rampant antisemitism of the time; there is a good guy in there but there’s a lot of trauma burying that. 2023 Shahara Hasan, she’s a black Muslim hijabi woman on the police force and she clearly want to make a difference and actually help people -stay with me, we’ll get to if that’s possible. 2053 we have Iris Maplewood, who we know lost her parents due to a nuclear attack in 2023 and has received cybernetics to fix a genetic paraplegia -possibly also from the nuclear attack- and that led to her joining the force (she’s still the most mysterious of the four). She is loyal to the authoritarian dictatorship but also curious and smart enough to realize things are iffy when she stumbles into the plot. Most of them directly disobey superiors to continue their investigations; except Charles, he disobeys for apparently finding a line he won’t cross and discovering he still cares actually (as of episode 3). We quickly see that even if they have the best intentions, all of them are working in a corrupt system. They can not both continue their jobs “the right way” and do what they believe is morally right. Even as cops they are implicitly pushed to do shitty things in service to the job. In 2053 this becomes especially clear. The system is working exactly as intended, in service to the elite above truth, justice, or care for the people they police.

(there is one romance, it’s gay, see below for me having my… listen I’ll summarize. Do YOU like Sherlock/Watson hurt/comfort fic? Then here’s the mini arc for you!)

Many thnx to Alfred’s storyline being the only romance (so far), and it’s with Henry Ashe, the gay socialist photographer/journalist(?) he meets in episode one. Regrettably arrests, he’s ok and gets out fast but yeah not Alfred’s best moment by far. Then, when he is told his case is over is like “hey actually would you help me? I saved this one photo? Sorry the rest got taken and left destroyed.” Which leads to much Henry the moment he sees him going *I know what you are* (actively flirting) and Alfred *the epitome of Victorian gay repression* (keeps coming back anyway /by the way he has a wife and daughter/) becoming best friends in 2 days. Then Alfred gets drugged has the worst night of his life presumably, wakes up, and drags himself to Henry’s apartment. Who then just tenderly cars for him, including pulls his full mattress into the living room half of his flat, and when Alfred asks to be held just chastely cuddles him. And then later when everyone is sober they tenderly fuck. No notes. (Many shows would have tried to play “this straight” and most in the audience would be like “that’s gay” so that they actually decided “yeah! This is gay!” Was a relief.)

#Bodies #I truly love that three of them are trying to be good (in the wrong job for that tbh)#And then Charles is just… he’s taking whatever he can get. He’s depressed. This poor guy. I love him #They are all disasters.#I love them all so much #The time travel stuff is ancillary. Like sure. But can they all get coffee at the end?#With the time travel? Idk?#Start a… idk what maybe pi agency but only for normal people? Instead lr something #They’re in the wrong job. I do not condone #Hopefully it they can fix the future because it seems bad enough that is the point and several other little hints

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alynnl · 1 year

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I’ve cleared the Forgotten Turnabout this morning. I have quite a few thoughts as always.

It was another one of those bittersweet and actually, very open endings.

Franziska is salty. Very salty that Edgeworth willingly turned in his prosecutor’s badge so he wouldn’t have to follow orders to turn over Kay immediately for arrest. This sort of rubbed me the wrong way because she does realize he didn’t have much of a choice, right? Edgeworth was backed into a corner.

Sebastian got totally broken down and he honestly didn’t deserve that. Yes, he was a brat, and very annoying. But for Blaise to constantly cut him down, to say “all the awards you got were the result of me bribing your teachers” and to call him an idiot without joking. To berate Sebastian for “not trying hard enough” when he was honestly giving his best effort. For him to know that Justine was just getting close to him to get to his dad. He ran off, and we never did find him. I wonder if he’ll ever recover from this!

Justine has apparently been a double agent this whole time, in some effort to finally get Blaise arrested because she suspected him of handing von Karma forged evidence 18 years ago in the IS-7 Incident. She not only used Sebastian but she also used Edgeworth in her schemes and even if she was sort of helpful towards the end of the case I’m not sure her actions leave a good taste in my mouth. She seems to care more about passing judgement in the name of the Goddess of Law than for the lives of people around her.

Then there’s Gumshoe. He is in utter shock that Edgeworth forfeited his prosecutor’s badge and hasn’t seen him face-to-face since then. It’s hard to know what this means. Was Gumshoe only loyal to Edgeworth as a prosecutor and not as a person? Or does he somehow blame himself for the way the situation spiraled out of control, leading to Edgeworth having to give up his badge and Kay possibly being arrested? (Maybe he didn’t want to be there to make the arrest himself or testify in a possible trial.)

I will honestly be sad if Gumshoe and Edgeworth don’t see each other again in the fifth and final case of Investigations 2 because they have been side-by-side in a lot of their cases. It’d be like separating Holmes and Watson from the Sherlock Holmes series, or Sam and Frodo from Lord of the Rings! To keep them apart permanently would be unthinkable!

But on the plus side...

Kay regained her memories! And it was because she got a hold of her promise book again, which was something she lost in a different case. In that book was the beginnings of who she is now as the Yatagarasu. It’s nice to see her usual fire back too. There’s also some clarity on what happened before she lost her memory.

Edgeworth is free! He still doesn’t have his badge because Blaise, the chairman of the PIC got arrested and so there can’t be another hearing about whether to bring him back as an official prosecutor any time soon. But at least he’s not in jail anymore. He gets to go home, and he’s determined to find the truth behind what really happened in the Grand Tower case, since arresting Blaise apparently wasn’t the end of it. He got a call from De Killer of all people informing him of this much.

I have to hand it to him, he is rather resilient. I’m just hoping the truth doesn’t put him in anymore danger but at least he’s aware of the power of friendship/teamwork and he will have support if he is in some sort of distress. He’s opening himself up to others, I’m happy for him.

There is only one more case left to wrap up the loose plot threads from the fourth case, along with any new twists that might come up along the way. I have looked at the “how long does it take to play all the cases” document and this finale will be a long runner at 8 hours, so I imagine there will be a lot of content packed in, interesting twists, and hopefully, if all goes well, an ending credits montage and a candid final photo.

I will take my time with this last case since I know it will be the last time I will see Edgeworth in a major role, and I will miss him when it comes time to play Ace Attorney 4-6.

#Lynn speaks #Lynn plays video games #long ramble under the cut #Lynn has too many feelings about video games #Ace Attorney: Investigations 2 ~ Prosecutor's Path #Miles Edgeworth #The Forgotten Turnabout #Blaise Debeste can get thrown from a window #He is the WORST #Justine is on thin ice but she released my dear Edgey from jail #Detective Gumshoe please come home #Sebastian let's get you to a therapist #Franziska maybe chill?

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strooples · 2 years

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Season 1 Beyblade and nailing introductions

One of the most memorable things for me personally from the 1st season of Bakuten Shoot was how whenever our gang sets off to a new country’s tournament (or in the case of mainland Europe, their journey towards the place they need to be), the antagonist team shows at least 1 of their starting member introduced formidably. It sets the stakes high, show our characters what they’re exactly up against, and gives us the intimidating feeling the Bladebreakers feel themselves.

For the Chinese team, it was Mao. For the American All Stars team, it was Emily. And before our characters get to the Russian tournament, it was the elaborate introduction of the French blader Oliver. I love the tension when each of these characters were introduced so much that I went back to l specific episodes in order to note exactly what really built up the situation’s stakes.

First up is Mao Chen’s:

Episode 9

By the end of episode 9, we’re introduced the opposing team. Up until now, we see that the main characters defeat Kevin/Kiki. That’s one of the White Tigers out, right? But then, 2 of the other White Tigers come out — Gary/Gao and Mariah/Mao — who both chatise him for even attempting to challenge the gang before the official tournament. It becomes established there’s bad blood between all them and Rei, especially so between Mao and Rei. Then, Lee comes out. He’s the established leader, and he decides that the rest of the White Tigers don’t want to battle before the tournament and just want to leave.

Kai decides then that he wants to challenge their leader and get it over with. Lee refuses, but Mao offers up her own challenge — likely to show the Bladebreakers what they’ll be dealing with exactly. Kai refuses because she isn’t their leader, underestimating her prowess as the skilled opponent she is. And THEN, this is when it happens. She aims, and the swing rips apart AN ENTIRE BOWL!

A whole friggin’ METAL bowl!!

Heck, our characters would’ve gotten shredded apart had they not dodged themselves! And she’s only 1 part of the team… not even the leader!!

Kai now sees he underestimated their capabilities; the Bladebreakers collectively know whatever’s ahead is intense.

Next, Emily Watson’s introduction:

Episode 19

When the US arc starts, our characters are visiting the BBA research facility where Max’s mom works. After being led around, they find out there’s a training center. Simple right? That is, until Emily proposes a competition between the facility’s players and the Bladebreakers. Weeeeelll, perhaps it’s still simple! The Bladebreakers win against every opponent. So far, not too hard! But Emily is the last opponent, and Max is up. What happens next…?

Before Max even gets the chance to maneuver, she knocks Draciel out! He doesn’t even get the chance to attack, which speaks to the extent of how skilled she is.

I don’t really have as much to say on this intro except that it sets her out to be a pretty tough opponent. So we understand that, in turn, the entirety of the All Stars will be equally hard to defeat. Given, the set-up wasn’t as intense as Mao’s, nor as intricately-planned as Oliver’s. But it does the job in intimidating us well enough that we know the Bladebreakers will keep their eyes wide-open, trying to figure out how to possibly combat whatever the All Stars may have up their sleeves.

Lastly, Oliver:

Episode 33

In Episode 33 we see Oliver pop in suspiciously right after the Bladebreakers defeat the Dark Bladers. Something has to be up right? we wonder along with the gang, as he basically shows up out of nowhere after very obviously eavesdropping. Oliver indirectly insults our characters when he implies they’re inexperienced and unable to fully control their bit beasts, playing oblivious (which he continues to do as he continues his intimidation tactics throughout the next episode when the BB see him out).

Episode 34

And in the next episode, the set up goes in a way where each character find out about him themselves:

Max, on a poster he sees; a storekeeper explains to him how famous and wealthy Oliver is

Rei, also on a poster; at his uncle’s Parisian restaurant, a chef explains Oliver is a well-known chef who wins competitions

Kai, on his own search with some local kids

And then we center into Kenny dragging Tyson/Takao along, wanting to tour the city.

We quickly learn that Oliver is wealthy enough to rent out the Louvre. The ENTIRE LOUVRE. Takao doesn’t accept this; he storms in — stopped by a guard until Oliver comes out and lets them in. What comes after? He lets them dine in his fancy restaurant. One he owns ENTIRELY. He offers to kick all the patrons out if Takao or Kenny feel bothered. Simply because he can. And then Oliver’s true colors start to come out, as he mention how lowly he thinks of our main characters, all the while playing innocent.

Takao has been oblivious until now, but then it becomes clear his set-up was to intimidate them. We get that he’s celebrity-level famous. We get that he’s incredibly wealthy. Powerful. And he flaunts it, from a stance where he’s untouchable to our MC’s.

And from there, we go again.

In conclusion,

…the stakes are clear; they’ve been raised pretty excellently.

As the audience, we’re now invested in seeing how the situation will turn out for the team we root for. It’s a good set-up, especially when we reach the Russian tournament where the peak of the season is, because we realize the final big bad has to be even tougher than these guys — which further elevates the tensions.

#beyblade #bakuten shoot beyblade #mao chen #emily watson #oliver

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