mabye

Look, we need to talk about this Ok

This wasn’t some happy go luck episode, this wasn’t the sweet cool Starco episode everyone is trying to make it out to be or whatever. This was intense. This kid as been traveling and fighting for 16 years.

Marco traveled to every single dimension,(without sicors), He faced hundreds of monsters, he learned amazing things. He blew out every single flame of every single clone

Marco grew up guys. he grew UP. He built a life for himself. he lived for 16 years alone in the roughness of uncivilisation, with only himself to look out for. Constiantly tracking down clone after clone after clone.  He becomes a warior.

And yet, when he arrives at her doorstep, he doesn’t  attack her, and she doesn’t attack him. Infact, when he arrives, she’s already forming his scissors

She’s content, She’s plaesed. She has accept his work, and delcared  him worthy of the responiblility of having dimensional siccors. 

And marco has a similar reaction as well, he doesn’t immedetly take the scissors, doesn’t blow out her light as soon as possible. No, he sits down, gets comfy. he relaxs and tells his tales to her.

“you barley escaped me on the exploding flames of endor. And when I lost your trail in the mist of the never zone, I thought I’d never find you.”

They know eachother. This isn’t the first time he’s seen her. The REAL her since their first encounter when he was fourteen. They’e meet before, they’ve battled, and ran and talked formed an odd frenship out of their bond.

And then He rises to blows out her flame, and she lets him. She stands there, content as he softley, blows it out

“Not bad for a human. I underestmated you.”

And then, Star bust in….

And of cousre, Marco is happy to see her. He hasn’t seen her in over, and I’ll say it again, 16 years (reminder, normal people go to school for 12 years! First grade to senior. Marco has been working for those things, longs than the normal person goes to school.)

Now, I’m not here to go through this episode slide by slide, so lets move on. Marco finds out he’s only been gone from earth for 8 minutes, he get annoyed, ut then Star encourages him to come back home with her, so that everything can go back to normal.

Here’s the thing guys. Marco has spent the last 16 years matureing, fighting, living, He’s been spending the last 16 years BUILDING A LIFE. he doesn’t want to go back. he likes his life.

He likes the adventure, his sword and his dragon-motercikle pet thingy. The likes the life he’s build for himself here.

And this scares her. She pleads with him. BEGS him even. “But, what about your parents, your freinds….Me?” Star puts Marco in a position where he has to pick between his life, what he likes and her.

And here’s where this show gets really deep. he looks at his pet.

Guys you can feel that stabbing pain in your heart right? Right?  Oh man and then he looks at Hekapoo. This girl he’s chased for 16 years. 

“Don’t look at me, those siccors are yours now…you can come back here, anytime you want.”

So he makes his decision

But before he goes, he bids them goodbye. He asks Hekapoo to look after his pet. His one compainion on the road. And she agrees. 

Then he turns to her. Like when he entered, he greets her like an old freind, because that’s who she is. She’s not someone he resents, She’s some one he trusts. Someone he has faith in and who he know he can depend on.

“Likewise”

I mean, I’m sorry, but have you SEEN the way they’ve been looking at eachother this entire time? Their eyes, relaxed, smiles oh so small.Serriously, go back through the pictures I have here. you’ll see what I meant Mabye I’m crazy, but it almost seems like they’re in love. 

ha hah hah just kidding…sort of.

 Back to buisness.

Look at this. This is her thing. She’s been doing this to him since they first meet. It’s a way she “shows [her] affection” in the words of Toph

It’s what she does. He has something simillar to that as well

“Later H-poo.”

“Don’t call me that!”

They know eachother. They’ve know eachother for 16 years. They’ve been teasing eachother all that time while he’s been chasing her and she’s been slipping through his fingers. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like some wicked love story. 

But it’s not, because she’s some, immotal being and he’s a human and he’s ment to be with Star…That’s fine. I get that but still!

I meanserriously, when Hekapoo  creates siccors, she makes them individually for the owner, and look at marco’s

The blade’s are thick, and kind of resemble a sword, given how that’s the wepon he’s been using all this time, and it’s part of his pasword..but look at the that little flame where the blade conects to the handle? Doesn’t that look like her flame crown?

no, actually, it doesn’t. But it DOES  look like her clone’s crowns. The clone’s he’s been chassing and fighting al these years. She placed a bit of herself in his siscores because she was that important to him. (or at least she was important to his mission)

.

.

.

Ok, Ok, Ok….now here’s 

The most important stuff. 

Marco is back in his 14 year old body. He’s back on earth’s time line, and Star thinks its all fine and dandy…but it’s not.

Marco isn’t the same guys. He’s been gone for 16 years. He’s 30 years old mentally. Watch as he takes in his room, observing it like some alein place.

And he walks over to his computer, almost scared to touch it. These last few years, Marco’s probablby survied off of whatever he could kill or make with his own two hands. This kind of advancement…it might make him feel uncomftorble, like he’s cheating at life. 

“Password..? I don’t remember my password.”

For last 16 years, Marco has  probabbly been sleepin gon rocks, on the ground in caves. watch how catius he is lowering himself onto his bed. After two years, most soilders in the army can’t handle sleeping on beds because they’re “too soft” Imagine how marco feels. I mean, his sandwitch is still warm, as if none of his life had ever happened

This isn’t some crazy Narnia junk where Pete, Edwin, Lucy and Susan half forget what their life was like in narnia when they de-age after walking through the wardrobe. Where they go back to being kids mentally as well, as though their entire adventure was a dream.

NO.

Marco remembers it all. And this is HUGE. The show brodened on that. they showefd how uncomftorble he looked as he stood in his room all alone, because it was essential to show the effects that were left on him. 

This isn’t some happy Starco episode. this isn’t some cool ‘lets drool over adult marco’ episode either. This is some dark, bittersweet life. And you guys need to stop trying to weasle out of these facts.

  • Mom: you need to lose weight
  • 8 y/o me: No, I'm fine
  • Mom: you should cut back on the sweets
  • 10y/o me: No, I'm grand
  • Mom: you'd look so pretty of you were skinny
  • 12 y/o me: MOM! Please stop I dont want to
  • Mom: Fine
  • 13 y/o me: Mabye I am fat.
  • Current me: Starts restricting, purging.
  • Mom: You've been losing weight, I wonder what triggered this?

I saw this thing on pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/471189179739124699/: 

*Submission by @kittyreaper

 Imagine Gilbert texting with Alfred, when the conversation unexpectedly derails into Alfred saying, “you know, I never really got that you and Ludwig were brothers. you look nothing alike!”

Gil, of course, complains to Ludwig about this. Ludwig comes up with an interesting solution.

At the Next World Meeting:

Two Germans walk into the room, side-by-side. Their  hair is slicked back, their eyes blue, and their brows stern. The only difference is that one’s a bit shorter than the other.

The rest of the world just kind of stares.

Ludwig, taller, sheepish: I had a, er, cloning accident.

Francis: So… now there are two of you?!

Ludwig (the taller one): It would appear so.

Gilbert spends the rest of the meeting perfectly imitating Ludwig, just to prove a point. No one can tell the difference. It’s freaking amazing.

The Right Way

When John opens his eyes, everything is white and silent.

His first feeling is shock.
Shock over this surreal environment. The sand, the heat, the tanks and the death have disappeared. No screams and no helicopter sounds can be heard. Instead, quiet, friendly voices around him. Birds singing somewhere. Well, outside. Outside where the sun shines. Where there is a daily life. Around him is the smell of disinfectants and mild detergent.

John blinks at the bright light in the room. He realizes he’s in a bed. No narrow, hard cot. It is a large, soft bed. A thick pillow under his head. A blanket pulled up to his chin. It’s warm.

He also notes that he can hardly move. It’s like a heavy weight is pushing him down.
John grunts, and wiggles tentatively with his toes under the blanket. This works very well. But as he tries to lift his head, an unpleasant, throbbing pain passes through his shoulder. At the same time, it occurres to him that he has been shot.
Shot. In Afghanistan.

John lets his head sink back into the pillow and breathes in the cool air in the room.
I was shot …
Pictures before his eyes make him swallow.
Running soldiers, screams, shots, an explosion. A hand on his arm, a whisper, a groan as eyes close forever …
And then the sharp pain as the bullet pierces him. Pain, so much pain, he falls into the sand and he can hear his name. Someones shouting his name …
A moment later it’s all gone.

John knows he’s been taken to a hospital. For the initial treatment. And then. Home.

Home, meaning this hospital.

He sighs, and licks his dry lips. Thirst.
His gaze falls to the side of the wall, where a call button is.
He presses it.
A few minutes later, a young nurse comes into the room. She smiles the certain standard smile, which is so common in a hospital.
“Ah, Dr. Watson, you are awake. Very good. The doctor will want to see your wound soon. Do you need something?”
“Water,” John can only croak with difficulty. And he points his finger vaguely at the bed. “Could you … raise it please?”
“Yes, of course.” The nurse pushes a button on the bed and it slowly lifts. “I’ll bring you water.”
Then she is gone again.

John can see the room better now. And when he looks aside, he sees that he is not alone.
Next to him is another bed. And there is a man in it.
The face half hidden by an oxygen mask.
John can see thick, dark locks. And pale, almost white skin. He judges the man to be in his mid-thirties. He stares at the completely motionless body and swallows. Something is drawing him to this unknown man … something he can not explain. John notes that he is fascinated. Fascinated without really having a reason for it. He shakes his head slightly.

The nurse comes back with a mug and a water bottle.
She pours him water into the mug and John takes it with a still unsteady hand. He drinks, relieved.
Then he says softly, “Who is that?”
The nurse follows his gaze and says with a sad undertone, “Oh, this is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. He’s been here for a long time. Almost half a year. He’s in a coma.”
“Ah,” John says, swallowing. Half a year. That’s a long time. “How …?”
“How it happened? He overdosed on cocain. We … well, we can’t ask him, but we think it was a suicide attempt.” She gently shakes her head and takes the empty mug from John. “It’s really a shame. He never gets any visitors. Never. The thought that no one in the world is there for him … Who knows if he will ever wake up again. Perhaps there is simply nothing worth it for … Oye, I talk too much.” She seems a little embarrassed and clears her throat. “If you need anything, just call, ok? The doctor should be here any minute.”
“Thank you. Yes.”
The nurse leaves. John does not look away from the sleeping man in the other bed.

Half a year. No visit.
Jesus.

*
The days pass at a quiet, slow pace, which both soothes and disturbs John.
He is not used to it.
He almost expects to be suddenly torn from the calm routine by a shrill siren. Or suddenly lie back in the hot, bloody sand of the desert.
But of course it doesn’t happen.
Instead, he wakes up around 9 in the morning, receives his breakfast and is examined. The doctor is friendly and passive. Nodding pleased at the sight of John’s wound, while John himself stares at the hole in his shoulder with a growing nausea.
After that, he can only watch TV, or watch Sherlock being fed.
It’s hard to watch.
No reaction comes from the comatose man, when the nurses lift his limbs off the bed to wash him. Turn him to his side. Dress him again.
The motionless body doesn’t resist. It reminds John of a doll. He does not like this thought.
At noon, they bring John food again.
For Sherlock, of course, nothing comes. He is fed artificially.
In the evening, more food. And more TV.
A lot of rest. A little too much, John thinks once, and feels strangely guilty at the thought.
On the third day of this routine, he talks to Sherlock for the first time.
It’s because a James Bond movie is on.
John always liked James Bond.
And that’s what he says.
“This is a good movie. A really good movie. Lots of action. And the women are pretty, the men too,” he says aloud in the room. And laughs. There’s no answer. And he feels a little stupid.

*

After a while, John realizes that he will not get any visitors either.
It’s not really that surprising.
Harry is … well, he doesn’t even know where his sister lives. His mother is dead. And he does not want to see his father. Not that he thinks, his father would want to see him …
Once, he receives a call from the leader of his unit. From Afghanistan. He says something like, “it’s a shame” and “get back on your feet soon”. John doesn’t say much. He only murmurs “Yes, sir” now and then.
His hand is trembling as he holds the phone. A tremor. It hasn’t stopped since he woke up.
He doesn’t get any visitors. Just like Sherlock.
Only the nurses and the doctor enter the room.
“Here we are, huh?” John says to Sherlock while eating his bland soup. “We’re alone together here.”

And then the nightmares start. About the war. About death and pain. About men he could not save. Distorted faces in the dark. Eyes full of despair.
He wakes up in the middle of the night. Heavily breathing. Bathed in sweat.
He moans and sits up with difficulty. Runs a hand over his face.
He looks at Sherlock. Sherlock, who is, as always, motionless in bed. A part of his face lit from the machine that measures his heartbeat.
John swallows. He must … He feels the overwhelming desire to talk to someone. It needs to stop. He can not … Oh, hell, he has no one and it’s not like Sherlock would complain, right?
He clears his throat and begins.

“Well, uh, Sherlock. How do you feel? Um, I hope I didn’t wake you. Sorry, haha, bad joke … I had a nightmare, which is quite obviously, right? Well, uhm, I hope it doesn’t bother you if I just talk a little. Yes. I’ll talk. So make yourself comfortable. Haha.
Sometimes I think I’ve gone the wrong way. I became a doctor because I wanted to help people. And the army … Well, it was just a whim. An idea that me and my friends had. One of them is dead, by the way. Mmh. I … it was not always bad. The training was exhausting though. Sometimes I thought I could not make it. My family was not much help either. My father is an asshole. There is no other word. My sister was thrown out. My mother died. It was all … a mess, you know? Anyway, I’ve been struggling. I wanted to do it. This one thing. And I did it. I’ve become a doctor. I went to Afghanistan and treated soldiers. I’ve seen things that would turn your stomach. Wounds that seemed like death sentences. I’ve looked into hopeless, desperate eyes. Sometimes I saved them. Sometimes I couldn’t.
And the faces of those I could not save, they haunt me now, you know? In my dreams. God. I’m so sorry. I really am … Do you see that? I’m crying. That hasn’t happened for a long time. It seems to make you sentimental when you get a bullet in your shoulder … " 

*

"Thank you for listening to me all the time, Sherlock. All this blabbering must be terrible. I thought about James today. Who that is? Well, good question. We were more than friends. But never more than … no idea. I kissed him. Well. In the desert, watching the sunset. Once. Just once. Do you think that is romantic? Shit, yes. Mabye it is. ”

*
“My middle name is Hamish. I hate it. I mean, who calls their child John Hamish? My father chose my name. There we have it again. This bastard. Hamish. I always avoid telling people that name. So, I guess that makes us mates? Hey, buddy, haha. No. That just sounds wrong. Sorry.”
*
"I can get up today. Great, huh? I feel like an old man. My damn shoulder, my trembling hand … a pretty sad picture I make, huh? ”

“It was not so bad. I mean, I for some reason I’m limping, quite badly, but the fresh air was great. I was down in the park. And imagine, a woman spoke to me. She’s called Mary. She said she’s working here. She is nice. And you know what, I asked her if we could go for a coffee. She said yes. Can I get a ‘well done’? No? All right. ”
*
“Do you know, that you’re pretty? Really, you are. I maybe would have asked you out, if I met you somewhere else before. Oh God, sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I … Maybe I’m just afraid. Because … well. I’ll have to leave here soon, I guess. And I don’t know what to do then …”
*
“Well, that’s it. I … tomorrow I can go. I don’t know exactly where, but I can go. Mmh. I think I’m really scared. Mary said I should do therapy. No idea if that would help. I guess, I can try it. Maybe. Well, I’ll pack my things. You know … you really could wake up to say good-bye to me. It would be nice …”
*
“Surprise! Yes, here I am again. I … I missed you, Sherlock. You’re a good listener, you know? Better than my therapist … So, what happened since I left, tell me, haha.”
*
“I will marry Mary. That’s … yes, that’s good, right? She is … she gives me a certain hold in life. I would not know where else to go. What else could I do? So. We are getting married.”
*
“Oh God. Fuck Hey, Sherlock. I … She’s pregnant. She … she’s really pregnant. Did you hear that? I’m having a baby. I’m going to be a father. I. Can you belive that? No, me neither. I … Oh my God, what am I doing?”
*
“This is not what I wanted, do you hear me Sherlock? That … my God, I can not do that. That’s … That’s not me. Fuck. ”
*
“I love her … Really, I do. I mean, I married her. But … I just do not know what I’m doing. I’m … This is not me. I don’t want a quiet family life in a terraced area. I want … I don’t even really know what I want … But, I hate all of this. I … I thought I was going the right way this time, but that … that’s not what I want. I’m not a family man, Sherlock. ”
*
“You know, Sherlock, you can just wake up once. So … so we could really talk. Because, well … You listen to me here as I talk every day. Aren’t you bored. Jesus. I know it would be a miracle if you woke up. I have … I’ve heard the nurses talking. They’ve given up on you. It would be a miracle. But … I don’t know, maybe you can just make the miracle happen for me? Simply … Oh God, I don’t know what I’m talking about. Good bye, Sherlock. Until tomorrow.”
*
6 weeks later.

“Hello, Dr. Watson. I’m sorry to call you so late, but he … he’s asking for you.”

“Who? Who is asking for me?”

“Sherlock Holmes. The coma patient you have been visiting. He woke up and now he’s asking for you. Very urgently.”

John hurried to the hospital. He doesn’t even notice that he left his cane at home. Until Sherlock points it out. Sherlock, sitting upright in bed, an exhausted, oblique smile on his face.
Sherlock, who says quietly, “Hello, John.”
Sherlock, who steals John’s heart within a second and opens the door to a whole new, completely different story. Who shows John a new way. Which is finally

           the right one. 



This was inspired by this beautiful post of @johnnlocked: AU in which Sherlock is in a coma and John is in the same room.

Corrected by my wonderful beta @bakerstreet-irregular <3

Tags are under the cut. As always, if I forgot you or you want to be tagged in future works, tell me :)

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Phan fluff: moving house

This ones kinda short but everyone keeps saying that they’re moving and it inspired me to write sooo
-

Dan and Phil were sat on the floor in Phil’s room. They were trying (trying being the key word) to sort through their stuff to get it ready and packed. They were running out of time though. Dan had kept nagging Phil to start sorting through his seemingly endless pile of junk, Phil’s argument being that he wanted to keep it all, his room was full of it did he really need that much?Eventually has Dan given up relying on Phil to do it on own and decided to help him, only because he was afraid they wouldn’t be packed in time. After all, they were moving tomorrow!

Hey Dan, do you think I should keep this?’ Phil asked, pulling some form of soft toy out of one of his draws.
‘You should probably throw it away to be honest, do you really need a stuffed walrus plushie?’ Dan questioned, half rolling his eyes.
‘But it’s cuddly and soft’
‘Like me’ Dan joked.
Phil snorted
'Does that mean I should throw you away too?’
'Oh but you wouldn’t want to throw me away would you?’

Dan got up and wrapped his arms around Phil, Phil chuckled and whispered
'Maybe I would’
to which Dan quickly responded by turning the hug into a wrestling match. He squeezed Phil tighter, scrambling as Phil reacted, then both boys tried to push each other to the floor, Dan tried to jump on Phil when he suddenly felt him tickling his neck. His neck was extremely sensitive and his arms and legs were flailing all over the place as Phil mercilessly tickled him, laughter escaping them both. Phil eventually gave up the tickling and gave Dan a cheeky grin before pinning him to the floor.
'Don’t mess with me Howell’ Phil exclaimed proudly as he looked down at Dan.
'Wouldn’t dream of it’ Dan gazed up at Phil innocently.

Phil let out a sigh of content and collapsed, lying on top of Dan on the carpet, he could feel Dan’s heart beating and his stomach moving gently up and down as he breathed. Both boys lay there like that for a moment, though they would have lay there forever if they could. It was Dan who eventually spoke up.
'Phil?’ He whispered.
'Yeah Dan?’
'Im really gonna miss this apartment you know, we have so many memories here’
They both sat up and looked at each other then.

'Like all the times we walked into that goddamn glass door in the kitchen!’ Phil chuckled.
'And remember when you literally broke three mirrors!’
'And all the videos we filmed here, oh Dan you’re making me sad now!’
'Yeah, it is sad but think of it as a new adventure, in mean we’re moving into our very own house! We’re gonna have a garden and our own bedroom…’
'Still don’t know how we’re going to explain to our subscribers that we only need one bed now…’ Phil blushed while he said this.

'Well um… yeah, but I’m sure we can overcome that, anyway maybe we could even get a little puppy since we’d be allowed to now’
'We could get a little shibe, oh my gosh Dan yes!
'Although I’m not sure we’re quite cut out to be parents, even if it is just dog parents’
'Oh come on, we’ve got our own house now! We’re totally adults’
'Says the one holding the walrus plushie’
Phil was in fact now holding the plushie again, having picked it up to fiddle with while they were talking.
'Okay, mabye I’m not 100% adult yet’
Phil smiled, a cute childish little smile that caused Dan to smile back.
'No, you’re just 100% dork’
Dan leaned in closer to him and their lips connected, Phil throwing the walrus plushie to the side and running his hands through Dan’s hair.
'I love you’ Phil breathed against his lips, Dan lips smirked against Phil’s as he replied.
'Now 101% dork’

akm221  asked:

Is it bad that my interest for the show completly dropped harder than a rock in this last couple of months? Mabye I'll get into it again once Season 3 comes out, but for now... I'm kinda done with SVTFOE... Weird to think that for a year I was following this show non stop and shipping Starco like nothing else... And now I feel like I don't care about those things anymore...

That’s what the hiatus is all about… and human nature as well. Our interests shift and change over time, especially if those interests we have/had do not get any new “stimulus” (in this case, a TvShow not airing new episodes for a while).

With that said, I can feel that deep down you’re still trash…