Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes sat in an uncomfortable high backed chair in his brother’s drawing room. The only light source the flickering flames in the fireplace, causing the consulting detective’s face to be bathed in dancing shadows. His hands were placed together at the palms, fingertips resting on his Cupid’s bow mouth, eyebrows drawn together over his unfocused stormy blue-green eyes.

Sherlock Holmes couldn’t stop his mind from spinning. He couldn’t stop the deluge of information from spiraling nonstop in his brain. His mind palace was in shambles from the onslaught on data it had received in such a short period of time, the walls threatening to crumble, doors in danger of falling right off the hinges, files and cases in flutters of paper like flakes of snow in a blizzard. He stood at the entrance of his mind palace, staring down the hallway, watching papers blow about in an unseen wind. He knew he needed to start sorting out the mess in his head before it got out of control and he lost all form of organization, knew he should be trying to categorize the events of the last forty-eight hours, but the door at the very end of this particular corridor was calling to him.

He knew where he had to go. He knew whom he must see within the labyrinthine halls of his extensive memory. He knew he needed to open the shaking door and face her. But…

Sherlock Holmes was terrified of what he might find in his subconscious.

The door at the end of the corridor rattled violently on its hinges, the handle twisting and turning as who was behind it tried to force her way out. Steeling himself for a subconscious confrontation, Sherlock started to move towards the door, his mind altering the layout of the halls, forcing the door to meet him halfway, his hand inches from the rattling handle…

“You know you must talk to her, brother mine.” Mycroft’s voice interrupted.

Sherlock came crashing back to reality, blinking the dryness from his eyes; a result of not blinking for such a long period of time. He sighed, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

“I know,” Sherlock admitted, not bothering to face his older brother.

Mycroft walked over to the chair opposite Sherlock and sat down heavily. Sherlock flicked a glance his brother’s way, noticing the dark circles under Mycroft’s eyes, the new lines that seemed to find their way onto his face overnight, and the way his waistcoat hung more loosely on him than it had before.

“However hard that must have been at Sherrinford, you must explain to her what happened. Even I know that.” Mycroft said, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips.

“What am I supposed to say to her?” Sherlock asked in a low voice, folding his arms across his chest, staring deep into the dancing flames before him.

“Explain it to her as you see fit, brother mine.” Mycroft said, staring at the flames for a moment before looking at Sherlock. “But I do suggest that perhaps you should start with the truth.”

“The truth,” Sherlock scoffed. “And how would I even begin to explain that I have a long lost sister, whose memories I repressed because she is psychotic. She has killed numerous people just for the hell of it, became best friends with Moriarty after five minutes worth of conversation, somehow snuck out of a maximum security island prison twice, tried to seduce John, and then became his therapist under a different disguise, and helped me find the most dangerous serial killer in all of London. Oh, and she killed my childhood best friend when she was a child herself, and because of the trauma, I changed my very human friend into a dog in my memories.”

Sherlock clenched his jaw and glared at the flames, his nostrils flaring with anger.

“I see your dilemma,” sighed Mycroft.

Sherlock gripped the arms of the chair with his long white fingers and leaned towards Mycroft.

“Do not pretend for one moment that you even understand feelings, Mycroft.” He spat. “You were there; you saw what Eurus did to me. To her.” Sherlock jumped to his feet and began to pace, his anger causing white hot energy to scream through his veins.

How could so much change in such a short amount of time? Sherlock thought, dragging his hands roughly through his hair. Nothing in the last forty-eight hours made sense to him. How could he go from his biggest problem being a double murder late at night, to having a psychotic sister all of the sudden?

Things were so much simpler before Mary died. Before the Culverton Smith fiasco.

Before Sherrinford.

Just a month before Sherlock’s ill fated journey to the London Aquarium, he had let himself into Molly’s flat with the intention of using her spare bedroom as a quiet place to think, when he found himself standing next to her bed. As always, Molly gave him what he needed without him having to actually ask, and he had fallen asleep with the small pathologist wrapped in his arms.

What had become the norm for them changed completely when Mary died, and Sherlock had lost John Watson’s friendship for a while. He could still remember how sadly Molly had looked at him, standing outside the Watsons’ door, holding their goddaughter. It was such a sharp contrast to the laughing, comfortable Molly that had stood beside him at little Rosie’s christening, jokingly reprimanding him for giving his phone more attention than his goddaughter.

The day she had given him the note from John, had repeated John’s hurtful words to him, was the last time he had seen her sober.

The night he showed up to her flat, high from a mixture of cocaine and morphine, she had taken one look at his stubbled jaw and unkempt hair, and slammed the door soundly in his face. He had left her a note (slid underneath her door) asking to please meet him at the following address in two weeks’ time. Three days later he received a text from her. It was short and to the point, saying she would be there.

She refused to answer any of his following messages. And refused to talk to him the whole drive to meet with Culverton Smith, except her outburst when John had shown up.

“For Christ’s sake, Sherlock! It’s not a game!” she had practically screamed at him.

He looked at her, properly, for the first time since she had slammed the door in his face. Sherlock noticed the dark circles under her eyes, how limp her hair seemed. Her face was drawn, and her nails were shorter where she had bitten them.

“I’m worried about you, Molly.” Sherlock said, looking closer at her, trying to see through the haze of the drugs in his system. “You seem very stressed…”

Molly threw him a dirty look. “I’m stressed, you’re dying!” she spat venomously.

He couldn’t resist getting a jab in, not in his altered state.

“Yeah, well, I’m ahead, then.” He said, his eyes flashing for just a moment.

The look she gave him haunted him for the next month.

All he wanted was for things to go back to the way they were before, when everything was simple, and his actions went unquestioned. He just wanted to let himself into Molly’s flat whenever he felt like it, wanted to slide into her bed and wrap her in his arms and get some actual sleep. He wanted to-

“Oh!” Sherlock exclaimed, halting in his pacing.

His outburst woke Mycroft, who had dozed off in his chair. He looked wildly around, before his eyes settled on his little brother. Sherlock was still as a statue, eyes wide.

After ten minutes of Sherlock staring unblinkingly at nothing in particular, Mycroft decided to break the silence.

“Care to inform me what I could’ve missed, that you have somehow deduced?” Mycroft drawled.

“This is my fault.” Sherlock murmured, still staring straight ahead, lost in his mind.

“Your fault?” Mycroft asked. “Sherlock, we have discussed this. This whole matter of Eurus, of what happened at Sherrinford, everything, none of it is your fault. You were a child when it started-“

“No, Mycroft! Molly! Eurus choosing Molly for her demented little game. That was all my fault!” Sherlock said, snapping his eyes to Mycroft.

Mycroft closed his mouth and looked at his younger brother with wide eyes.

Of course! Thought Sherlock. It was his own entire fault! Why else did Moriarty choose unassuming little Mousey Molly Hooper to get close to him? Why not choose John? Or Mrs. Hudson? Or even Lestrade? The answer was simple. Sherlock was always telling John that he never observed, and after all this time, it was Sherlock who chose not to observe what was right in front of his face.

Molly Hooper mattered most.

The years he had been using her flat as a bolt hole. All the years he would sprawl on her couch, or go through her fridge, or do experiments in her bathtub. All the nights they would share meals together (Molly being the only one who could actually convince Sherlock to eat on a semi-regular basis), or watch crap telly. All the days he would actually clean up after himself while he was at her flat because she liked things neat, whereas he would leave a trail of destruction at his own.

And now, most recently, all the nights he fell asleep content to just be holding Molly in his arms.

How long had the cameras Eurus used been in Molly’s flat? Half a year? A year? Two? Five? Did it really matter? One week of watching footage from Molly and Sherlock’s interactions would have been more than enough for someone as smart as his sister to deduce how he felt about her.

The one person, they thought who didn’t count, mattered most of all.

And it had been used against him.

Sherlock realized that he kneeling on the floor, not quite remembering how he ended up getting there. He looked up from his hands to Mycroft, eyes wide and full of doubt and questions.

“What do I do, Mycroft?” Sherlock asked in a strained voice, looking to Mycroft very much like his baby brother from childhood.

Mycroft looked back at him, and for once the older brother’s face held none of its usual contempt.

“What you must.” Mycroft replied.

The biggest of shoutouts to @forthe for making this actually readable, you are the best proof reader that has ever existed! And to @moll for her invaluable ideas, thank you for putting up with my seven million emails a day! A huge thanks to both of you for your continuous encouragement, because without your support, my writing would never see the light of day. And thank you, readers, for your continued kind words about my fics, y'all are the best!!
Kissing Under The Sunset [A Stucky One Shot - Request].

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Have I told you how much I love you? Because I do, I really do. Thank you so much for such an overwhelming response to my stories, I really appreciate it! 

Every like, comment, reblog, message, literally means the world to me. So, thank you, thank you! 

So, this one goes to @whydouwantaname, who so kindly responded to my Stucky freak out and requested this! Enjoy <3 I also tag @undiscl0sed-desir3s & @mcuofstucky & @stevestuckyonbucky, because they like to sink in the Stucky ship too. 

Pairing: Stucky. C’mon, we all know this now ;) 

Warnings: Mentions of past homophobia (though not explicit). Is there a swear word? There might be…and angst, fluff and a kiss? 

Disclaimer: All Marvel characters go to their original creators. 

P.S: Please forgive me for any mistakes! 

1937, Coney Island

Overhead, the sky was a mix of different colours, oranges and reds, yellows and pinks, as the burning sun set on the horizon, like a paint pallet, a mix of colours and mixtures, ready for the night to swoop in and clean it up. And yet, though the evening was drawing in, it was still busy, bright lights and loud chatter, people driving in fast cars, bright dresses and the giggles of women as they danced the night away.

“Hey Stevie,” Bucky smiled, sitting down next to his best friend, as the two of them sat on the pier, legs hanging over the edge, watching the sunset and the tide come in, lapping up on the golden sand, “here’s ya ice cream. They didn’t have vanilla, got you chocolate instead.”

“Thanks Buck,” Steve replied, taking the cone from him, beginning to eat it, noticing Bucky’s gaze, staring over at a very pretty woman with her friends down by the beach, “go talk to her. She keeps looking over here.”

“Nah,” Bucky shook his head, turning back around to face Steve, “what about you?”

Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I’ll be fine. I’m not gonna suddenly have an asthma attack just sittin’ here alone.”

Bucky shook his head, laughing half heartedly, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant…”

“I know what you meant,” Steve sighed, licking around the chocolate on top of the cone, “but her friends aren’t gonna like me. I’ll just wait here, or go home.”


“Buck, really, it’s fine,” Steve half smiled, though his heart was slowly shattering in his chest, “I’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Bucky smirked, “but if ya wanna go home, you come tell me all right?”

“Uh-uh,” Steve nodded, already biting into the cone of his ice cream, staring back at the ocean. He didn’t want to see the man he loved walk away from him, to go talk to a woman.

It just broke his heart.

Bucky was his best friend, yes. But Steve had always loved him in a way that wasn’t accepted. At least not then, besides, Bucky didn’t feel the same, he had regular dates and women fell over him, sighing and smiling like he’d hung the moon.

“I’ll be fine,” Steve muttered, glancing at Bucky who was now talking to the woman, that had been giving him looks all evening. Looking away, Steve wiped away warm tears, finishing his ice cream, wiping his hands on a tissue, before looking back out at the sea.

They’d been here for most of the afternoon and had spent time on the rides (which made Steve sick after), and then just sat here for the rest of the time – talking and laughing, pretty much like they always did. But tonight was different. Steve felt that hollow emptiness in his stomach, one that told him he’d never be the one Bucky kissed and held close.

They were just best friends, nothing more, and nothing less. Steve didn’t bother waiting for Bucky. He got up and left about half an hour later.

When he got back to their apartment, he changed out of his clothes, into his pyjamas and went to bed. But he didn’t sleep. He heard Bucky come home, he heard him dropping the door keys on the kitchen counter, as he walked into Steve’s room.

“You left,” Bucky mumbled, and if Steve heard a hint of disappointment and sadness in his friend’s voice, he chose not to read too much into it.

“You were busy. Got bored and cold,” Steve replied, hiding under the covers, hiding the tears that were beginning to trickle down his cheeks, “thought you wanted to spend more time there, didn’t want to drag ya home.”


“Night Buck,” Steve cut him off, his voice wavering. Bucky sighed and closed his friend’s door, walking into his own room, cursing himself.

That night, Steve cried himself to sleep.

Unable to hold back, he sobbed into his pillow, muffling his cries as best he could and when he woke up, the two of them went back to normal, like the night had never happened.

2015, Coney Island

Steve couldn’t believe he was back here again, after all of these years, sitting in the same spot he had, when Bucky had walked off to speak to that woman, who was probably dead now. But they were still here, through the war, through the ice and Hydra, through the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Winter Soldier, through the Civil War and the aftermath; they were still here, together, as if nothing had happened.

Of course, that’s not true, everything’s changed.

But they were okay. They would always be okay. Even things with Tony (though sore), were slowly getting better. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, just different sides to the same coin and no one placed blame. Steve just wished they’d been able to talk about it, instead of fighting. Fighting never solved anything, just caused pain and wars.

And the innocent are the ones who always suffer the worst of it.

“Hey Stevie,” Bucky smiled, sitting down next to his best friend, the two of them at the pier again, “I got you vanilla this time. They actually had it.”

Steve would’ve burst into tears right there and then, because damn it, Bucky remembered, he remembered the past, he remembered Steve. He knew what Hydra was and what they’d forced him to do, and though he struggled with nightmares, and blamed himself, he was better.

He was here.

He wasn’t lost and alone.

He was with Steve.

“Thanks Buck,” Steve croaked, managing a bittersweet smile, his shoulder brushing against his friend’s flesh one.

A lot had changed since they’d been here last, everything was modern and new.

It wasn’t their Coney Island, but it still had that tug, one that kept them grounded, that once pulled, the memories spilled out and consumed them, until all they could do was let them wash over their minds.

But the sky was the same.

The sky was the same splash of colours. The same bright, radiant rainbow of colours, mixed together in a hazy, golden mess, as the sun set and the night began to creep in. And if Steve closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that they were back there, back then, when everything had been easier, simple, it had been comfortable.

But here and now, this was better.

“Something happened here,” Bucky said after Steve had finished his ice cream, “When I got home…you were upset.”

Steve sighed, nodding, “yeah. It’s fine Buck. Not important, okay?”

“If it upset you, it is,” Bucky replied, looking at Steve, watching as the golden sunlight hit his blond hair, graced his skin and lips, his blue eyes open and honest. He was still Steve, even after everything, he was still his Stevie.

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve muttered, shaking his head, looking back towards the sea, trying to ignore the confused look on Bucky’s face, “it was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Bucky sighed, nudging Steve with his elbow, “but I want to know what I did…I – Steve, c’mon.”

Just then, a group of women walked past the two of them, staring at Bucky, but the man didn’t pay them any attention. Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes, of course they’d notice him – he’d cut his hair, it was tousled but like it used to be nonetheless and he’d shaved, he looked healthier, better than before.

And modern clothing suited Bucky very much.

Steve had to tear his eyes away from his jeans and top, the way his defined body appeared in clothes that seemed to highlight every angle of his form.

“It was because…,” Bucky trailed off, looking at the women quickly, before turning back to Steve, “I went to talk to a woman, wasn’t it?”

Steve huffed, clenching his jaw, refusing to speak, keeping his gaze ahead.

Steve,” Bucky said softly, his voice low, lifting his flesh hand to touch Steve’s arm, “look at me. C’mon, Stevie, look at me.”

Steve closed his eyes momentarily, before turning to look at Bucky, “what?”

“Just tell me what’s goin’ on,” Bucky replied, half smiling, “please?”

“Fine,” Steve muttered, angry and upset for no reason, “fine, you want me to tell you? I was upset, okay? It was silly, I know. But I – I didn’t like…you know what, forget it.”

But before Steve could get ten steps away, Bucky called out, “damn it, Steve, you’re goin’ to tell me right now, or so help me God - !”

“God, Buck!” Steve shouted, turning around to face his friend, who was a little way off, “why can’t you just leave it?!”

“I don’t want to,” Bucky snapped angrily, “I want you to tell me. I know you’re lyin’ to me.”

Scoffing, Steve ran a hand through his hair, trying to stop himself from crying and shouting at the same time, “fine. I’ll tell you.”

Bucky waited patiently, merely raising an eyebrow.

“I-I…Buck,” Steve sighed, looking up at him with sad eyes, watching as his friend stepped a little closer, “I…I’m in love with you. I was upset…because you weren’t with me, I mean back then you couldn’t anyway, but now…and I just, I love you. I always have.”

“Steve,” Bucky said softly, stepping forwards, so that he was right in front of him, close enough to see the tears spilling down his friend’s rosy cheeks and the tremble in his lips, “look at me, Steve.”

Steve lifted his eyes to meet Bucky’s, fearful and pained, “please don’t hate me, Buck.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, cupping Steve’s face, wiping away his tears with his thumbs, “I could never hate you.”

And then he leaned forwards, his lips a fraction away, “can I kiss you, Steve?”

Steve nodded, a soft broken noise leaving his lips, “please.”

And then, finally, finally, their eyes closed and lips met. It was hesitant and slow at first, with Bucky just testing the waters, gently moving his lips over the blond’s, tasting the ice cream on his soft, pliant lips. Then, Steve melted against Bucky, his arms coming to wrap around his neck, as Bucky’s arms circled around his waist.

It was like the world stopped and it was just them.

It wasn’t breath taking, it was like the air was being sucked back into their lungs, like the kiss was giving them life, renewing and fixing wounds that could only be seen under the skin, by the mind and heart. Bucky tilted their heads, opening his mouth to suck Steve’s bottom lip, earning a groan from the blond, who clung onto Bucky’s jacket. It felt like finally, like the golden sunrays hitting your cheeks after a cold morning, like the cool breeze after a hot day, it felt like fire and warmth, like the intense touch of rain and cool embrace of snow.

And it said, ‘I love you, I love you, I always have, always.’

When they pulled back, Bucky laughed breathlessly, peppering Steve’s face with kisses, “I love you, you silly punk. I love you so much. I wanted to tell you…back then, but I –

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve cut him off, snuggling against Bucky’s body, hugging him close, burying his face his shoulder, smelling his cologne, “we’re together now, right?”

“Yes,” Bucky sighed happily, kissing Steve’s temple, “we’re together now. Never gonna leave you again, Stevie. Never.”

They couldn’t change the past.

But they could damn well shape their future, together.

Kisses of the sun >> Baekhyun, You

My entry for Switch it Up Week 2015 by @exoticarmy127 (I’m such a trash to her stories. She’s my role model <3)

Prompte: Sunset would never be the same.

Words count: 3717 (Yes! I managed not to exceed the limited words *grins*) 

Genre: Angst/fluff

Warning: None- Just… Don’t clench your toes while reading! Thank you XD 

Standing over the cliff, legs tilting downward and swinging in the air. A small rock broke from her kicks into the cliff and fell. Fell down, far away into the deep, clear ocean.

She wasn’t scared. She was a free spirit like a bird and wished to fly one day. She had always loved the view over this cleft it calmed her down and relaxed her muscles, with the breeze holding her. It was her thinking spot, her mind refresher and the place that gave her inspiration to move on.

She observed the sun as it kissed the sea, a soft red color that almost was orange spread through the sky and twinned with the white clouds making thin lines of red.

She had always thought that at sunset the sky has the color of a beautiful blushing, shy face. Like a girl in love.

But now all she was thinking about was that it looked like a scar, above high on the sky. A scar that had a lot of pain within it, just like the scar that was made in her heart.

At the moment, she was sure that the sunset would never be the same. Ever again.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:


My Professional Film Critic Thoughts On Every Fantastic Four Movie, in chronological order:

Roger Corman’s Fantastic Four (1994):


  • By far the most comic-canon accurate. Actually this is actually both a pro (Doom’s entire vengeance quest bc one time in college Reed corrected his math) and a con (Byrne’s Reed and Sue origin story…)
  • “Hi Mrs. Storm, can Johnny and Susan come to outerspace with us?”
  • Victor’s shifty Eastern European henchmen just creeping around college
  • Reed and Victor passing their space math notes back and forth in class like a couple of middle school lovebirds 
  • That thing Victor does in the first five minutes where he like, paws the air by Reed’s ear? While promising him they’ll “have time”? And wearing an expression I think might have been a smile?
  • Ben slo-mo runs to save Reed from Science
  • Ben and Johnny have a special handshake
  • Ben and Alicia’s meet cute starts disastrously and then turns adorable??
  • why won’t dreamy 90s Ben Grimm lift me up in his huge arms and spin me around
  • has as many hugs as Fant4stic (2)
  • Ben/Reed fans, there’s a scene where some totally legit and not at all shifty Eastern European henchmen tell Reed Victor’s dead and then Ben holds him while he cries. this is a real scene. slow music was playing.
  • Definitely the most accurate Doom, though still not a Science Wizard
  • Two different scenes where Alicia runs her hands over Ben’s face and falls in love with his pure and true noble spirit regardless of his visage
  • Victor von Doom has knife gloves
  • That thing Reed does at the very end of the movie when he and Sue drive away from the chapel. 


  • The Mole Man. “But you love the Mole Man” listen when the Mole Man is a very short man with a very big nose who is only referred to as “The Jeweler” and spends the whole movie trying to steal a huge diamond, I don’t.
  • “No wonder it has a higher rating on RT than Fant4stic. Anti-semitism strikes again.” - @buffwizardjocks
  • Nobody can act, save for maybe dreamy 90s Ben Grimm and whoever was in the Doom suit. 
  • Whoever was in the Doom suit tried so hard
  • My best guess is that the budget was $30

Fantastic Four (2005)


  • Ioan Gruffudd
  • This movie opens with Reed and Ben staring in silent horror as a 30ft metal statue of Victor von Doom is welded together
  • Ben Grimm: Yenta
  • Johnny naked except for a pink parka
  • The sunflowers scene
  • Doom is played by the guy who was Cole in Charmed
  • Okay the suits look really nice actually
  • Ben and Alicia are cute


  • My deep and never-ending suspicion that this movie and its portrayal of Johnny specifically is the reason Johnny Storm is not a fandom darling when by all accounts he should be, and why it’s taken so long for spideytorch to catch on beyond like six people
  • also to this day I have to see “Captain America and the Human Torch were played by the same person” posts
  • it is the year 2016
  • please stop we know he played them both
  • Johnny talks so much about accepting yourself for who you are, never once kisses a dude
  • Sue repeatedly stripping out of her clothes in the middle of the street so she can be invisible please stop men

Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer (2007)


  • The whole plot of this movie revolves around Sue and Reed failing to get married. Also I guess a space cloud wants to eat the planet? Doesn’t matter. Sue and Reed are hilariously bad at getting married.
  • Did you know Laurence Fishburne voiced the Silver Surfer bc I didn’t until just the other week and I am delighted
  • That scene where Alicia is pinning on Ben’s boutonniere and he goes “ouch!” and she slaps him all “don’t do that!” while he laughs
  • “But this is Dolce” iconic 
  • Reed’s bachelor party
  • I love Norrin Radd, I’m sorry, I can’t help who I am, that silver ken doll is great 
  • Andre Braugher in is this movie, which conclusively proves that FF (2005/7) and Brooklyn 99 take place in the same universe.
  • Power swaps!
  • Sue and Johnny hug right did I imagine that
  • “I’m so hot for you” “Me too” says Johnny, as he full body presses himself against Reed
  • Johnny kissing Ben on the forehead, the most important shot of all time


  • Sue is still naked so much in public please please stop
  • WHY, when Alicia is IN THIS MOVIE, was her connection to the Silver Surfer given to Sue? Oh right it’s because all women are both compassionate and interchangeable
  • Dudes kissed on the mouth by Johnny Storm: 0
  • Could have been more hugging
  • Why no giant man in a huge purple head dress
  • Embrace your origins, Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer
  • There could have been a Reed/Sue&Ben/Alicia double wedding but was the opportunity seized? No it was not.

Fant4stic (2015)


  • Objectively the best Fantastic Four movie of all time
  • No wait come back 
  • Listen, for all its structural flaws, there is A LOT that Fant4stic did right. Its character work is nuanced and detailed – we’re told things about the characters not only by what they say and do, but by their environments. The first 40 minutes are cohesive, with a real sense of dread as you get closer and closer to the accident.
  • it’s a beautiful love story that starts when Ben sees Reed speak with utmost belief about things that sound impossible, listen, there’s no way to view this movie other than “Ben is in love with Reed” 
  • I love Josh Trank’s FF fanfiction
  • Sue, despite being a young attractive woman, is never sexualized. Everything she wears is practical and fits her personality. Her makeup is realistic. There is not one “she’s invisible but also she’s NAKED you can’t see it but she is” scene.
  • MBJ’s Johnny is my favorite portrayal of him to date. He’s a reckless thrill-seeker who feels out of place in his super genius family, but also a talented mechanic who is inherently kind and loving. He teases Victor, makes friends with Reed and seems to have, for better or worse, bonded with his secret government handlers (we see him joking with them and calling them by name). Despite what everyone else has said about Reed, when they’re reunited Johnny doesn’t hesitate: he hugs him.
  • also he’s beautiful
  • and a huge dork: the fire flower in his car, the Lego mug, his welding mask with the flames on it, “this is going on Instagram”
  • I LOVE the Thing design. He’s actually rocky and he’s huge. His voice is resonant and grinding. When he drags himself across the room in that scene with Harvey Allen you get a real sense of just how heavy he is. It’s not cartoony at all.
  • Ben Grimm is Jewish. Unquestionably on screen Jewish. There is a mezuzah on the door of the junkyard, and a huge gold menorah in the front room. Maybe ONE DAY we’ll actually say “Ben is Jewish” out loud, with words, on screen, but for now I’ll take this.
  • Hot Mess Victor von Doom is so relatable. He just wants to sit in the dark playing video games and eating week old Chinese food. He has a breakdown, takes a trip to find himself, comes back and murders his father figure. We have all been there, Victor.
  • you know from Victor’s perspective Fant4stic is just like Eat, Pray, Love
  • Reed’s isolationist Panama shack with the BEN SHRINE. Do you realize that to get that photo of them together as children, back when they were happy and everything was simple, Reed must have risked capture and either gone back to the ruined Baxter Building or his childhood home? Reed!
  • “He was looking for him.”
  • A love story
  • But also a horror story, which is great, because that’s what the Fantastic Four’s origin should be. These people are changed beyond their comprehension. It should be strange and horrifying, and it should be something outside forces seek to control.
  • “Waterboarding in the fourth dimension could prove very effective” is my favorite Civil War burn


  • do I have to say it
  • we all know. just let me have this.
  • the reshoots, okay. the reshoots.
  • what went down
  • someone tell us what happened, please
  • Where Are The Deleted Scenes
  • at no point does Reed laffy taffy wrap around hug Ben
  • why are both canon and fandom so afraid to let Reed climb Mount Rushmore
  • we’re never getting Fant42tic even though practically every month Simon Kinberg lies to my face and says that it’s still on the table
  • stop lying, Simon Kinberg
  • but also marry me? you’re the only who understands?
  • I was promised the Mole Man

A special shoutout to the Fantastic Four movie we almost had, which, um, SOUNDS AMAZING?, and to the best FF movie of all time: this spideytorch music video set to One Direction’s What Makes You Beautiful, which will remain the best FF movie of all time until someone makes one with MBJ set to 18.

and one more back to the barn observation, because man was that episode meaty:

a big part of fandom, myself included, would look at pearl’s pining for space and homeworld in particular and wonder: why in the fuck? why does she speak of it so lovingly, when she chose to rebel against it, and rightly so– when her kind were probably worthless slaves, looked down upon by all around them?

well, i mean. we were right that that’s what pearls are. but now we know about them in greater detail, and we know they were essentially show dogs. pets that serve as a status symbol. needless to say that’s dehumanizing and absolutely horrible, but think: to the pearls, this was only normal. they never knew anything else.

and our pearl belonged to rose diamond, one of the rulers of the whole planet.

can you imagine the life of luxury she had on homeworld? she wasn’t her own person there, but she didn’t need to be – she was cared for and safe, probably provided everything she wanted, never had to worry about even the single tiniest thing. her job was to dance and look pretty and be rose’s, and that was it.

compared to the life she lives on earth now, well. it’s now much easier to see why she’d miss that. suddenly she’s the caretaker – suddenly she has to worry about everything. she’s taken up a role she wasn’t remotely built for as protector of the earth, for the sake of the person she once belonged to (and still does, albeit in a different, much more complex way) who’s no longer there. the life she leads now is the complete opposite of what she was made for, and what she once had.

‘why would i want to go home when you’re here,’ she asks rose, and that only makes sense: in her mind rose has always signified safety, because rose always looked after her. even after their relationship deepened and grew into something mutual and more balanced, i think that initial association never waned. (the same way pearl’s ingrained need to serve hasn’t.) rose is her home, and as long as she were there, pearl would’ve been fine. and for a time, indeed she was – but now rose is gone, and so is her shelter.

pearl chose autonomy, she chose personhood, she chose to fight. it was a tough damn choice. and though i’m sure she doesn’t regret it on the large scale of things, it’s hard to blame her for being struck with the occasional urge to go back to when everything was simple. but she doesn’t. she’s still here.

pearl is admirable, man.


“I really was your hero?” Clint couldn’t really believe what he just heard. He’d always thought Maria’s hero (if she ever had one) would’ve been Peggy all along. The two of them had so much in common it just made sense.

“Come on Clint, after you saved my life at West Point? You were so good back there and I was just a twenty year-old rebel teen.” Maria laught at the memory. He had pretended to be a new officer there and they had had more than one argument. She had never been really obedient. Everyone thought she wouldn’t make it to the highest ranks in the army. They hadn’t been totally wrong. She’d done that as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. “I still don’t know how a man with a bow and arrows win against a fucking tank but you did.”

“Hey, you saved my life too. When your superior caught me and you chose to believe what the stranger you found out I was was saying. Nice shot, this one.”

“Well I wasn’t very obedient, but I was the best when it came to shooting practice. I’m sure I still am if you take yourself and Kate Bishop out of the equation. But yeah, I impressed myself that day. Not so much by how fired I was.”

“Not like you were unemployed for long.”

“No, my hero saved me once again.”

There was a silence for a few minutes as the memories came back. Yeah, it was good old time, when everything was so simple. No alien, no city falling from the sky… Just the simple missions, the usual missions. The average mission where you find a little young lady that needs to be taken care of and make her an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Clint smiled. He had been Maria’s hero. She wasn’t the only one to think so, sure. Some people he had saved had thought the same. And Cooper and Lila, maybe Nathaniel too someday, saw him as the biggest hero there could ever be. Laura did too. But it wasn’t the same than hearing a friend say it. Especially Maria. After all she’d done, after all she’d accomplished, it was refreshing for him to hear it. To know he was what made her who she was now. To hear that what he did wasn’t vain, that what he did could inspire. To learn that might he be the one people saw as the weakest of the Avengers, he still was recognized. Appreciated.

Natasha put her hand on his and smiled. She knew him too well, she was conscious of how much good it did to hear to hear that. Maria probably was too. So instead of insisting on the subject and maybe ruin the feeling, Natasha chose to change the subjet of the conversation. So the last thing Clint would remember of this conversation was one of the best compliment you could tell him.

“By the way, Clint, you still haven’t told me how you became the owner of that place…”

For @spectralarchers ; took me some time but here is my part of the collab/contest/whatever we can call that.

Instructions : Make a gifset and/or ficlet involving Clint and Maria, and with the sentence “But you didn’t see it through”.

You told me how much you loved me, and I told you how it wasn’t enough.
I told you how much I loved you and you told me you didn’t want me to love you more you wanted me to love you better.
You cry and I ask if you want me to stay. And when you don’t say anything, I leave. 

I drive to my parent’s house and I tell my mom my stomach hurts. I tell her I think I’m going to die. I start to cry, she wets a washcloth and wipes my face. She tells me everything is going to be fine. My dad asks if I need to go the emergency room. 

My mom says words I can’t understand, but she says them calmly. She looks at me the way you look at someone whose pain you can’t erase, but who you love so much, you try to heal them with your eyes. She tells me, “This isn’t how you break,” she tells me in a voice I’ve never heard before. My face is warm and my eyes ache. I look at her dark eyes and follow the lines that appear on her forehead and around her mouth. I memorize her gaze and I put my arms around her. 

That was so many years ago. I’ve come back to that simple concept when things have been overwhelming, when everything seemed lost, when I felt like I was in a situation I couldn’t escape. I heard my mother’s voice willing me to continue, to fight, to live, to get better.

This isn’t how I break.

nochilljimbles  asked:

What's the whole point of the Spongebob fandom? I mean, there's gotta be a meaning to it, like furries like the idea of anthropomorphic animals, and bronies like the cute ponies and shit. But what about this whole Spongebob fandom?

i think its not so much about the characters as much as it is nostalgia. you know how much 90s kids love to remember the 90s! its the jokes we remember when we were children that we may not have even understood that makes them so much funnier now and the simple but creative storylines that bring us back to a time when everything was simple and fun. it all just kind of lets us come together and laugh and remember as a fandom and thats what i set out to do when i made this blog!