over and under shot



I got my first lomography camera when I was about 14 and instantly fell in love with the surreal colours and distortion. Over time, I’ve collected loads of under and overexposed shots which I’ve never really known what to do with. 

Because it was hard to understand the images, I wanted to give them their own narrative. All cut from one page in a single book, the snippets create a new understanding and interpretation. 


@kansouame honey, a rushed fluff for you that I wrote this morning, all the hugs (it’s also on ao3) xx

There is something Dean wants, needs from him.

He should have noticed this a long time ago. He should have, Cas berates himself, angry for not having done. He’s an angel, after all, it’s not like he can’t hear Dean’s every thought, even when he does attempt to tune them out for respect of Dean’s privacy.

He should have known. And angel he may be, but it’s going to take something very human to set this right.

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Shape Of You

Characters: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky struggles to reconcile his new self with his old self, his left arm a stark reminder of just how ugly and twisted he truly is.  How can someone accept you when you don’t even accept yourself?  

Word Count:  2347 words

Prompt: Shape of You – Ed Sheeran

A/N: This is for my 800 followers celebration as requested by the delightful @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester who knows how much I love a bit of Ed Sheeran.

Boys night had kinda turned into a monthly standing arrangement and as Buck sat crammed into a booth with Steve, Sam and Scott he was kinda glad they had opted for this bar rather than a club.  No matter how often they went out and how many different clubs Sam dragged them into he found them all far too loud, too dark, disorienting. That was okay if all you wanted was a one night stand, hell those places were practically a cattle market, but he wasn’t the confident guy he once was.  Clenching his metal fist he was reminded about just how much he had changed and although rippling muscles had a certain charm to some women he was also scarred and mechanical.  When he had considered taking that step with anyone the image of them screaming as soon as he took off his shirt was like a bucket of ice water and he quickly excused himself.  

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Another what-am-I-writing-here moment 🤷

Um. Enjoy… 😏

AO3 link

“Would you stay?”

Dean never meant to sound so needy, didn’t even know how the words fought their way out of him to dare ask. But the second they stumbled across that threshold of his bedroom, that solid wall he threw up to force himself distant from people crumbled down, leaving him nothing but exposed. Vulnerable.

It might be the worst kind of feeling for Dean, something he’d denied himself feeling his entire life; because vulnerable wasn’t something he’d ever been allowed to be. Though with Cas, vulnerable was often how he felt, finding he wanted to lean into it sometimes, tried tricking himself into it on occasion. Cas was the first person in his life that had ever really let him lean, so, really, it wasn’t Dean’s fault that he wanted to. Not that he would ever stop cursing himself for letting himself lean, of course.

“Of course,”

Unless, of course, something external brought his defences down. A difficult hunt, an unhealed injury, a civilian lost in the fight against whatever they were fighting at the time. When that happened, which was both not often and far too often, Dean would retreat. Be it into a bottle, into himself, into his anger, where he pushed everyone away through his constant lashing out.

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how Daniel Mauser died

Daniel was in the library at the time the shootings occurred just a floor below where he was. He did not think it suspicious. When substitute teacher Patti Nielson entered the library, she told everyone to hide under the tables and Mauser was one of the 56 students who listened. When Eric Harris was approaching his table, Mauser pushed a chair in front of him as a possible attempt to knock him over. Outraged, he was shot in the face by Harris while hiding under one of the tables. Mauser died under the table where he had hidden.


AO3 link

“Dean. Dean… Dean,”

It wasn’t Sam’s repeated calling of his name that finally broke him from his reverie. Dean’s mind was always on subconscious alert for when Sam was in trouble or he really needed his attention, and he could effortlessly separate the urgent tone from the it can wait one without even acknowledging it. The truth was, he’d probably heard each and every individual uttering of his name in the five minutes Sam had spent calling it. So having it repeated with a flare of increasing annoyance didn’t do much to break him from his spell.

No, it was the abrupt clicking of fingers right in his face that lingered a vague smell of coffee there that did it. Dean felt rather than actively actioned the slow raising of his head to look up at Sam where he loomed over him in full bitch-face stance with a glower that could cut rocks. But Dean’s mind was firmly elsewhere, not noticing the frustration that set across Sam’s shoulders or the scowl that spoke of his glimmering impatience. In fact the one and only word he could bring himself to sluggishly rouse into existence at that moment was one that would prove to infuriate Sam further still.


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Concept for Armored Soul Configuration

DSI-LRDRN PHRS-X ‘Pharis Bounty Hunter’


The counterpart to the Pharis Hunter. Both of the machines were made to enhance the strengths and compensate for the weaknesses of each other. The pilots, both talented mercenaries turned bounty hunter, share a powerful bond. If one of them is encountered in the battlefield, expect the other to be lying in ambush.

While the Hunter model is geared for long-range sniping or close-quarters combat, the Bounty Hunter model excels at medium to short-range combat at higher speeds. The machine is armed with two P99x9m ‘Avelyn’ submachine guns and a Linear Cannon installed on the back. The Linear Cannon makes use of adaptive ammunition, and can switch between Slug Shots or Buck Shots. The Slug Shot is fired by readying the cannon over the shoulder, while the Buck Shot is fired under-arm.

Since their early years as hired guns, the Sisters of Pharis have been inseparable, and have made their names known throughout every mercenary network. Those with a price on their head will know soon enough; The Hunters of the Darkroot forests will see their bounty claimed.

anonymous asked:

13 & baekhyun!

Baekhyun + A Sweet Kiss

It was snowing out and the power lines has frozen over–meaning your heating was shot. You tucked your new puppy under your blanket and prayed he would stop shivering. When you’d gotten him as a gift for yourself for Christmas, you’d never expected to love him this much and now he was suffering because of the cold weather and you were powerless to anything but pile on blankets and pray he got warmer. You shivering and wishing the feeling would comeback in your fingers you could deal with, but your puppy? That was unacceptable.

So you’d gathered every warm blanket in your place and built a fortress for yourself, turning your body into a blanket as well, and huddling yourself around him.

It was then that Baekhyun finally called you. You’d texted him ages ago with the news of your power outage and you were annoyed he’d taken his sweet time in getting back to you. But it was short lived. “Our power is out too,” he told you. “And my battery’s about to die.” You could hear the pout in his voice.

“Well,” you said, the anger draining out of your voice entirely, “stay warm.”

“I’m coming over,” Baekhyun announced and then promptly hung up. You had no time to protest that he was out of his mind, that it was freezing out, that he’d have to walk all the way here because the roads were closed and was he insane?

You dropped your phone, tucking your hands in around your whining puppy and willed yourself to be warmer for him. You pulled the blankets in tighter around the two of you and maybe it was a combination of the snuggling and the blankets and the cold weather but before you could register what was happening, you were asleep.

When you woke it was to an arm wrapping itself around your waist and you only startled for a second before you realized it was your boyfriend. You noted his near frozen palms and slapped his arm. “You idiot, you could’ve died.”

He pulled you closer into his chest, burying his face in your hair. “I missed you.”

“Idiot,” you said again but you couldn’t hide the fondness in your voice.

He sat up and glanced around the blanket fort then he eyed your puppy. “He’s shaking.” His voice sounded sad and sweet and he scooped up your dog into his arms and held him. Your puppy scrambled to get closer to his face and lick him and you wondered how it was that without even trying Baekhyun was better with your dog than you were.

You didn’t feel jealous like you expected to, just warm, like Baekhyun had brought the sun with him. You wondered if he glowed like that all the time, if he was his own personal space heater, or if only you felt it because you were in love with him.

You reached up to him and grabbed his face in your hands, kissing him before he had time to protest. You held your lips to his for a moment, not pressing but just enjoying the warmth of him against you. When you pulled away he was smiling. “What was that for?”

You shrugged and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and yours, letting your body huddle against his. “Just ‘cause.”

The Affair

here’s an unnecessarily long coworkers!Everlark drabble. 

Katniss has just dropped her bag on her desk when Peeta appears, two coffee mugs in hand.

“Good morning,” he greets with an easy smile. “Two sugars, just like you like it.”

Even as she rolls her eyes, she can’t help the smile that slips into place as she takes the proffered mug. “If you suck up any harder, you’re going to collapse a lung, Mellark,” she teases, sipping the hot liquid before she sets it down beside her keyboard.

He scoffs in mock offense. “We’re peers, Everdeen. There are no nefarious ulterior motives here.” He sips his own coffee before continuing, bracing his shoulder against the edge of her cubicle wall. “You are Abernathy’s favorite, though, so…”

This time, she’s the one who snorts dismissively. “Hardly. You’ve only been here a month, and he already likes you better than everyone else,” she grumbles, flipping on her computer screen.

She’s not prepared for Peeta to lean in close, his mouth dangerously close to her ear in conspiracy. She tenses at the proximity, her eyes dropping to his lips as they shape his response. “The secret is that he takes his coffee with a shot of Jameson,” he whispers, his mouth curling up at the corners, and she laughs as he finally leans back, her face mildly flushed.

“Duly noted,” she replies, keeping her tone dry, and he just grins at her and takes a step back out of her cubicle.

“I’ll leave you to it then. Remember, it’s going to be a big, big, big day!” he chirps in perfect imitation of their office manager, Effie Trinket, and she just gives him a disapproving shake of her head, despite the grin on her face.

He heads back to his desk, and her gaze follows him until he disappears into his cubicle.

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Hello! My name is Theo, and I’m here today with what is apparently a frequently requested topic: 1920s American slang! I’m a huge language nerd, and the 1920s has some absolutely fabulous slang, so let’s get into this!

Terms meaning something is good:

Bee’s knees (This was part of a greater trend of animal anatomy slang in the 20s, which I would be happy to do another post on if there’s demand for it).


Cat’s meow (also “cat’s pajamas” and “cat’s whiskers”)




Hip to the jive (“That’s hip to the jive” means “that’s cool”)

Hot dawg! (An exclamation on its own, spelled that way only in flapper circles until the 40s)



Nerts! (An exclamation on its own, “splendid!”)

Terms for women:

Baby vamp (any pretty woman, sexual)

Bearcat (a fiery woman)

Blue serge (A sweet woman)

Bug-eyed Betty (an ugly young woman)

Canceled stamp (A wallflower)

Chassis (Specifically, a woman’s body, ie “Look at the chassis on Jill!”)

Choice bit of calico (A pretty young woman)

Chunk of lead (An ugly young woman)

Deb (Debutant)

Doll (An attractive woman)

Dumb Dora (An unintelligent person, often a woman, usually a flapper)

Face stretcher (An old woman trying to appear younger)

Flapper (A modern woman of the time, definitely do some more research into them if their culture is something you’re interested in)

Jane (Any woman)

Moll (A gangster’s girlfriend)

Sheba (girlfriend)

Skirt (any pretty woman)

Smarty (A pretty flapper)

Snake charmer (A female bootlegger)

Tomato (A woman)

Vamp (Similar to modern term “man eater”)

Terms for men:

Airedale (any ugly man)

Baby grand (A heavyset man)

Big six (any strong man, from car ads from the period relating to engine power)

Big timer (any charismatic man, romantic connotation)

Bimbo (Yep, this used to be a term for men!) (Tough guy)

Cake-eater (A ladies’ man)

Charlie (A man with a moustache)

Dewdropper (A man with no job who sleeps during the day, insulting)

Drugstore cowboy (A well-dressed man who hangs out waiting to pick up women, one of my favorite bits of slang)

Father Time (A man over 30)

Fella (you can use it like “dude” or “man”!)

Goof (An idiot, also boyfriend)

Hard-boiled (A tough guy, ie, “He’s so hard-boiled!”)

Joe Brooks (A well-dressed man)

Old boy (A term of address between men, also “old man” and “old fruit”)

Palooka (A social outsider, also, a mediocre boxer)

Sheik (boyfriend)

Weasel (A boy who steals a girlfriend from another boy)

Terms relating to alcohol:

Bent (drunk, ie, “He’s completely bent on whiskey”)

Blotto (excessively drunk)

Bootleg (illegal alcohol)

Bootlegger (a transporter of illegal alcohol)

Coffin varnish (Poorly made bootleg, often toxic)

Dead soldier (Empty beer bottle)

Edge (Light buzz)

Embalmer (Another term for a bootlegger)

Fried (drunk)

Giggle water (alcohol)

Gin mill (A cheap speakeasy)

Hair of the dog (A shot)

Half seas over (Drunk)

Half under (Drunk)

Hooch (Alcohol)

“I have to see a man about a dog” (A common euphemism for needing to leave, usually with the specific connotation that one was leaving to buy whiskey)

Juice joint (A speakeasy)

Toot (A drinking binge/bender)

Ossified (drunk)

Panther sweat (whiskey)

Quilt (A drink that warms the drinker)

Rummy (think “drunk bum”)

Snake charmer (A female bootlegger)

Speakeasy (An illegal bar)

Splifficated (Drunk)

Zozzled (drunk)

Terms relating to money:



Four-flusher (someone who gives off the air of wealth while using other people’s money)

Heavy sugar (a lot of money)




Orchid (An expensive item)



Simolean (Yep, this was real and was the inspiration for the name of the currency in the Sims universe)


Ways to tell someone to go away:

Beat it!

Get a wiggle on (much less aggressive than other terms in this section)

Go chase yourself

Mind your own beeswax (“This is none of your business”)

Mind your potatoes (“None of your business”)



Terms for nonsense:

Applesauce (Empty flattery)



Bull (Also: police; exaggerated stories)




Line (As in “I’m being fed a line”)


Terms entering into use during the 1920s we still use today!:

“Absolutely” (drawn out, affirmative)

Baby (Sweetheart. At this time, also showed that something was of high value and should be respected (these were generally separate uses)).

Baloney (nonsense)

Bible Belt

Big cheese

Blind date

Cig (Usually “ciggy” at this time period)

Crush (Also, “carry a torch”)

Dame (NOTE: This term arose in the late 20s and did not enter common use until the 30s. If your story is set in 1924, maybe don’t.)

Dope (drugs)


Fall guy



Gold digger

Goof (An idiot)

Joe (Coffee)




Positively (Same use as “absolutely”, also combined into “posilutely”)





Sitting pretty

Sugar daddy

Teenager (NOTE: Like “dame,” this term didn’t get common until the 30s, the term before that was “young adult”)


Happy writing!

A quick check-in on space cowboys Lance and Keith, the Two McClains

Lance ducks beneath a barrage of gunfire, and Keith jumps the fence into the corral, ready to defend him from the swiftly approaching goons that Hesfer employs. The animals in the corral are not best pleased by the fighting, making low, threatening hums that Keith would probably call “moos” if they were Earth cows.

Lance definitely calls them the cows with far too much delight, and Keith, dreading the horrific jokes, has consistently cut him off by stating, “They’re called munssen, Lance. No one here knows what a cow is other than me.”

Keith stabs towards a thug who’s trying to get at Lance, and he parries a blow from another as Lance attempts to take the boss down with his pistols. Hesfer fires at the giant munssen that Lance is using for cover, and said peaceful grazing herbivore decides that it has had enough of this crap and proceeds to lower its head and charge at the mercenary boss, skewering her on three of its five horns.

The battle ends abruptly.

Lance and Keith and Hesfer’s thugs all look at each other. The alien woman who had been Hesfer’s righthand takes a moment to evaluate the bloody, unmoving body of her employer and says, “Well, McClains, I think we’ve had enough for today.”

“Right,” Lance says, sounding strangled, tipping his cowboy hat at her. “But considering the hole in my favourite jacket, maybe it’s a moot point.”

Keith groans and buries his face in hands that are still clutching his twin blades.

Lance just grins wildly, high on adrenaline. And stupidity. But the latter was his default state. “C’mon, we just about wrangled ourselves a win here.” He twirls his pistols back into their holsters and shoots Keith with finger guns.

“No. Stop,” Keith says, pointing at him with one of his swords. “Lance, I’m dead serious.”

“Oh Keith, that’s just bull,” Lance crows.

Keith can feel himself dying inside. “You can’t even pun properly half the time, let alone make good ones when you do,” he insists, trying to end his suffering while sheathing his blades.

“Right, we’ll be taking our boss’s body now,” the woman says, looking like she sincerely doubts their sanity and wishes to be far away. Keith does not blame her. He ignores the retreating mercenaries as Lance holds a hand to his heart.

“Yeah, she was such a prize that heifer, I mean Hesfer.”

“Lance, if you don’t stop, you are sleeping on the damn floor, see if I won’t kick your ass straight out of bed tonight.”

“Sorry, buddy, I don’t think I herd you right?” And then he runs away, weaving between the munssen (all right, damn it, they definitely looked like cows, albeit green with five horns), as Keith gives chase.

Keith tackles him into the dust, to the background chorus of more space cows mooing and going about their business.

Lance grins up at him, shameless. “Howdy are you today, McClain?”

Keith drops his head to Lance’s chest, breathing heavily, and says, “Even though I’ve been stuck with you for months, half the time I still don’t know what in starnation you’re on about.”

The silence that follows is charged. When Keith lifts his head up, he sees that Lance’s blue eyes are wider — and darker. 

“Keith, did you just break out your Texas for me? Did you just make a space cowboy pun for me?”

“No. You’re hearing things, maybe being a cowboy has limited your range.” Apparently, Keith could not pun properly either, nor did he have any dignity left, thanks to Lance.

“Keith. Keith,” Lance says, breathless and writhing beneath him, and Keith would be answering that call to nudity if they weren’t currently in a corral full of space cows, and if Lance wasn’t about to say the exact thing he said next.

“We should probably catch a ride home, right?” Lance asks, teasing Keith with a swift roll of his hips. “Or …” And then he leans up and whispers in his ear. “Say it, Keith, c’mon. Please? Pretty please?”

“No. Also, the fact that bad jokes turn you on explains so much.”

“Keith, we should save the horse, and —”

Keith covers Lance’s mouth with his hand. “You’ve said it once, and that was more times than it should ever have been said. Now, let’s get the hell out of here before we get stampeded over.”

Lance sighs heavily, allowing Keith to pull him up to a standing position. Just as they’ve left the corral, walking over to the ikuril they rode in on, Lance pounces onto Keith’s back. Keith is forced to tightly grip the lanky legs that have wrapped around his waist, stumbling to keep his balance and prevent them both from crashing to the ground. 

With all joy and ridiculousness, Lance announces, “Okay, Keith, I won’t say it since you’re the hoss.”

See, @thidwicktails see what you made me do? ;D (For everyone else’s reference, that “starnation” pun was brought to my attention in this post. I am not nearly that clever. I might have googled a bit to get ideas for the other ones. I cannot pun naturally!)

This is a little too cheerful to fit in my mercenary space cowboy world. But even so, let’s pretend it takes place a few months after they’ve established themselves as The Two McClains. *nods*

Edit: Edited and posted this one-shot over on AO3 under the title Save a Horse (But Also Spare the Cowboy), just ‘cause I wanted to keep most of my writings in one spot :)

Essays in Existentialism: Kids IV

Please please please can you give us more from the Kids AU? I love every second! How does Clarke deal when Lexa comes home? Is she super careful around her? Do the kids have trouble leaving her? Thank you!!!!

Previously on Kids

2:23 pm

The banner hung over the porch and the balloons danced in the breeze as the car pulled up to the familiar house. The door opened a second later, with the entirety of its occupants spilling out into the yard. The houses in the neighbourhood joined as well, a few people stepping out on their porches to see the returning hero. 

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3. “I might have had a few shots.”
17. “Scoot over. I want to be under the blanket too.”

Dean Winchester x Reader
Requested by @torn-and-frayed
You stumbled into the bunker, giggling as your mind hazed from all the alcohol you shot back. It was late, really late and you were trying to stay quiet so you wouldn’t wake the boys.

But as you walked through the halls, you could hear soft voices, and a light flickering in Dean’s room.

Dean had his legs kicked up on the table, a beer in his hand as he watched TV. He stayed up waiting for you, waiting to know you’re home and safe.

Peeking your head in, you flashed a smile, gazing at him, your face flushed.

“Hey Winchester!” You hiccuped.

He snapped his eyes to you, his lips curving as he saw you there at his door, wearing a tiny dress, with your hair a mess. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Hey, have fun with Charlie?” He asked.

You nodded, walking over to him. “Scoot over, I want to be under the blanket too!” You exclaimed.

Dean did as he was told, making room for you.
Plopping down on to the couch, you pulled the warm blanket over you, resting your head on his shoulder.

He took in a whiff and immediately he could smell the alcohol. “Wow, someone had a lot to drink.” He chuckled.

“I might have had a few shots.” You giggled.

Looking up at him, you were so engrossed with his lips, that you didn’t realize you were leaning closer to him. So close, you could feel his breath hit your cheek.

“I really want to kiss you.” You whispered.

His stomach fluttered, as he gazed into you. His lips yearning to feel you against him. But he knew one thing was sure, he knew you were drunk and he didn’t want to take advantage of you. He couldn’t.

Instead, he pressed his lips to your head, and sighed. “If you still want to kiss me tomorrow, when you’re sober, then I’m all yours.” He exhaled.

You returned your head to his shoulder, watching the images play on the screen.

Dean tangled his fingers with yours, feeling you mold against him. Your eyes grew heavy, as your breathing slowed.

“I love you.” You hiccuped one last time. And just like that, you were knocked out.

He smiled to himself, still holding you close to him. “I love you too.” He whispered.

My Guardian (Part 5)

Cas x Reader

Word Count: 1766

Warnings: kissing, angst, swearing, violence, mild gore, brief mention of sexual arousal.

**Sorry for the late night posts. It’s also when I write, so some of this may be weird. Anywhos, enjoy.

My Guardian Master List

“Sam and Dean will be back any minute,” Cas grumbled into your ear. He nuzzled his nose into your neck and nipped. You were actually sad that the brothers were coming home. The time you had spent alone with Cas had been wonderful. You had expressed to Cas that you wanted to keep everything that had gone on between the two of you a secret until you found Crowley.

No distractions.

Sure, Cas’s presence anywhere near you was now a distraction, but he was also a lot of help. The two of you had spent the morning drinking way too much coffee and planning your attack on Crowley’s new fortress. The boys had texted Cas pictures of the warding symbols that littered the house’s concrete barrier. You had come up with a few plans of how to take them down to allow Cas entrance.

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Brad Marchand: *going off on twitter*

Some random guy: the over under is 10 on how many cheap shots you take tonight

Brad: I take the over fuck you

anonymous asked:

(Au where Billy is Jon's cousin) So when Robin try to kiddnaped Jon he also ended up kiddnap Billy (Bonus if you add Maya)

(I misread Maya as Mar’i and I thought I’d go with it)

“He’s your best friend uncle Damian why do you keep kidnapping” Damian glared at Mar’i. He was only 2 years older than her and she only called him uncle when she was annoyed with him. “First of all Grayson” he only called her Grayson when he was annoyed with her “He is not my best friend, or a friend at all. Superboy is a colleague. Secondly he must learn to be alert at all times!” 

Mar’i rolled her softly glowing eyes. “or you’re just scared to pick up the phone and call someone” she said. Damian just glared at her. Half another more waiting in a field half a mile from the Kent farm before there was a soft booming sound. Damian brought his binoculars to his eyes in time to see Superman flying away from the farm. “Come on” Damian whispered sharply, Mar’i gave a sigh but floated up and hooked her hands under Damian’s arm pits lifting him up.

They flew low and fast to the farm, floating up to just outside Jon’s second floor bedroom window. Damian pressed his hand to the glass, his toes clinging to the sill. He slowly edged the window up and hopped inside, Mar’i drifted in behind him and almost floated into his back. “What?” she whispered. Damian stood very still, “that wasn’t there before” he said pointing to the bunk bed. “What do you mean!” Mar’i hissed at Damian.

“I mean Kent sleeps in a double bed not a bunk bed” Damian said he was claim but Mar’i could hear the hint of panic in his voice. There came a sleepy sound from the bunk beds. Mar’i and Damian exchanged a wide eyed look, silently having a conversation. “There are two people in those beds” Mar’t whispered even more quiet than before. Damian nodded tightly, Mar’i crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Damian. “Well which one is he?” 

“How should I know” Damian shot back. “Come on” he waved to her toward the beds. They looked at the lower bunk, a small form slept under a dark red comforter. Black shaggy hair spilled over the pillow. Damian let out a “tt” and swung onto the latter and climbed to the upper bunk. A similar sized boy slept under a blue comforter, the same spill of black hair across the pillow. “Can you see their faces?” Damian asked dropping to the ground. Mar’i gave him the look “just because my eyes glow doesn’t mean I have better night vision” she said curtly 

Just then they heard the creak of someone stepping onto the stairs. A click and the bedroom door was framed in line as the hall way line came on. “Lane!” Damian hissed panic now on his face. “Grab him and come on!” he waved at the bunk bed. “Which one!” Mar’i hissed back, Damian looked undecided for a second but the foot steps were reaching the top of the stairs. “Bottom bunk!” he hissed. Mar’i shot over grabbing the sleeping boy out from under his covers “wha!” came a sleepy protest but Damian punched the teleporter button and they were gone before Lois’ hand had even reached the door knob. 

No one spoke for a long moment as Mar’i and Damian stared down at the boy sitting rubbing the sleep out of his eyes on the Bat Cave’s floor. “so, we got the wrong one” Mar’i said helpfully. The boy sitting on the floor looked a lot like Jon, but was clearly a little bit older, if smaller than Jon. He was Damian’s age maybe but even smaller than her uncle. Damian cleared his throat a few times and Mar’i realized this boy made him nervous, no one made Damian nervous she thought and looked at the boy more closely, he was cute.

“Bill-Batson” Damian said his voice slightly horse. The boy stopped rubbing his eyes and looked up confused “D-Damian?” he stammered. The two looked at each other confused for a long moment. Mar’i looked between them. Damian managed to speak first “uh what were you doing at the Kents?” There was something slightly hurt in Damian’s question. “Oh well, I guess it turns out that Lois is um my aunt so yeah I’m living with them now?” 

Damian looked hurt. “You didn’t think to call and tell me” Mar’i snapped her head around to look at Damian with disbelief, her uncle hated talking on the phone. “Uh sorry it’s been really chaotic, moving and everything, I had a really good time, you know, on our date, I’m sorry shit you must have thought.. shit I lost track of time has it been that long” Billy stood up shakily rubbing the back of his neck and looking miserable. 

Mar’i mouth hung open, Damian on a date? with a boy! Billy looked away from Damian and saw her for the first time and smiled showing deep dimples. “Oh you must be Damian’s niece, he talks about you all the time” She looked at Damian in shock but Billy was sticking out his hand. “Billy Batson, nice to meet you”

“Mar’i Grayson, and sorry for kidnapping you” 

It’s not about Johnlock for me

It’s not about Johnlock.

Johnlock is only part of the problem. Many people in fandom, in tjlc part of fandom, are academics, writers, literary critics. We are taught to read texts. It’s our fucking job, what we have studied for. 

The problem is, and I think it’s time to address it properly, that Moffits do not ever deliver. They always chicken out.

Finish the first season with a cliffhanger? Give your audience a lame resolution two years after.

The fall? Give zero explanation and mock your fans for theorizing. And yes, it was mocking. 

Mary shot Sherlock? Gloss over this, bury it deep under the rug and pretend it did not happen.

Write a season, the fourth, which is filled with inconsistencies, with glaring continuity errors, and let it dangle as a possible clue to something more and then – forget all about it.

Get criticism? Answer with a poem rather than stop and think, “hang on, maybe he’s right, maybe we sort of don’t know where the fuck we are going”

Fill your show with romantic tropes, have your network queerbait the fuck out of fans and then get offended and be a dick to a fan who dares asking questions.

Yeah, the problem is not the lack of Johnlock. The problem is lack of intellectual honesty and humility.

I made a mistake, I overestimated them as writers. Lesson fucking learned.