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hitlikehammers · 2 months

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take the call

rating: t ♥️ cw: off-screen car accident (but EVERYTHING IS FINE), hurt/comfort, softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, married steddie, hurt/comfort, rockstar Eddie/teacher Steve, Steve's heart of gold is very possibly going to be Eddie's undoing one of these days, well-worn-soul-deep love

for @steddielovemonth day eighteen: Love is terrifying (@starryeyedjanai)

set in the 00s, with Steve and Eddie having two decades of loving under their belts, now ♥️

Eddie isn’t expecting a call, any call, really; he’s in the studio, like, if he gets a call someone takes a message or whatever.

And in fairness, Eddie doesn’t get the call.

He gets a message.

“Eddie?”

He rolls his eyes kinda automatically, kinda thoughtlessly at the cut of the audio track to let the mic system override from outside the booth.

“Okay, so, like, don’t freak out.”

He’s not thoughtless at all about the way he clocks the tension in Jeff’s voice even across the speaker system; it’s entirely automatic how he freezes, how he looks up and locks eyes with his friend through the glass and sucks in a sharp breath for the look on his face: pained.

Maybe, maybe scared.

Eddie’s heart drops somewhere near his knees, but beats there so fucking hard.

“This lady called, and she said she found Lainie’s card inside the case of a phone she picked up,” and okay, okay, that’s…that’s random but maybe it’s about their assistance manger, who just got her contract confirmed and got fancy new business cards for it and has been handing them out to everybody she sees, even gave Eddie extras to pass on to Steve, maybe he can share them at the school as if anyone at even a hoity-toity private 6-through-12 school would have a reason for a card from a record label but she’s excited, and Eddie’s excited for her, and Steve loves the people Eddie works with, and not just because they’re attached to Eddie and he loves the things that come with Eddie as a given—but that’s also true, and always has been, but—

“She, um,” Jeff’s voice is filtering through again, and Eddie clocks that there’s…there’s something more to it, more than his brain’s willing to grasp just yet but his body’s apparently picked up on because he thinks the slightest breeze would knock him over and shatter him into pieces, for the tightness in his body; he’s not focused enough to count the separate beats of his pulse but he can tell it’s quick enough already, still weighed down near his feet, that counting would be kinda hard, would take effort:

“She found the phone at a car crash?”

So: the more-to-it. The thing his body already knew.

Eddie…Eddie doesn’t even need to know what comes next to know he cannot fucking breathe.

“Sounded kinda like, uh, like it could have been Steve’s phone,” Jeff is trying to tell him, and part of Eddie hears it, part of him does but most of him is white noise, is pins-and-needles, is underwater and drowning and not even fucking thinking of fighting the pull because he can’t, he’s heavy at the legs and his lungs are seizing and there’s, he’s—

“Because it, umm, she found the card because the case was broken?” and just last night Eddie’d watched Steve pop off the case and slide the cards behind with a laugh and a promise to take them with him not today—because it’s one of those federal holidays that only schools notice happening, like the post office is still open—but definitely tomorrow, never knew which of the kiddos at the Rich People School might be a budding metalhead underneath their uniforms—

“And she said the case was, um, like bright—“

Green.

Electric lime neon fuckin’ green because after three times of Eddie taking Steve’s phone by accident he’d come home with that endearing eyesore, and a kiss to the bridge of Eddie’s nose and a soft hard to confuse that, babe nuzzled against him and—

“It could maybe have just been a coincide—“ Jeff’s talking but Eddie can’t fucking hear it, not really, not when he’s letting the door slam behind him and ripping off his headphones to drop to the groundnut when he’s gasping hard enough to crack a rib, not when the floor’s gone out from underneath him and his vision’s tunneled and nothing seems real, and everything feels too real, every world ending possibility shuddering through his foggy mind alongside every heartbreakingly perfect memory blossoming up unbidden just to serve as a reminder, an underscoring of what he stands to lose, what maybe he’s already fucking lost—

He meets Jeff’s eyes without the glass between them as he grabs his keys from his jacket on the couch and makes himself take the breath that’ll fuel the voice, that’ll give him words, just one word, he needs, he fucking needs—

“Where?”

_______________________

Eddie shouldn’t have driven himself, he knows that.

Like, on some other plane of existing, he’s sure he knows that.

But on this plane, he rips past his bandmates, all the extra people with them for recording, jams the close-door button before anyone can follow him into the elevator because he happens to know this one’s quicker than the stairs even on a good day, and this—

Eddie’s shaking so goddamn hard he can barely get one foot in front of the other, he really doesn’t think he can manage ten fucking flights of steps.

He burns rubber on the way out of the parking lot, and the nearest hospital to where Steve would have been—on his day off, because holiday, he’d have bene close to home, he mentioned food shopping, he thought he might make stir-fry but he wasn’t sure, they hadn’t made a vegetable haul from the Asian market downtown in a couple weeks and they need to, they need to but Steve wasn’t feeling like going on his own, because he might not say it out loud but they both know he enjoys Eddie’s excitability when new items hit the shelves and he can’t read the language they’re labelled in so he guesses frantically until the man who owns the place takes pity, only laughs a little and explains what this spice is for, or that that crazy looking thing’s a fruit, and they ultimately buy whatever it is because Eddie wants to try it now, because he got invested and—

Eddie should pull off the fucking road; his head’s a mess, he can’t see for the way his eyes are welling, streaming, the way he’s shaking with sobs that don’t exactly burst forth, just leak from his lashes as he trembles horrifically because…

Because they were maybe gonna have stir-fry, tonight. Even without the good vegetables.

They were—

Eddie thinks it’s fucking cruel, kind of unbearably so, that his brain’s dead-set on still processing the mundane little perfections of his life as if every single one of them might be dashed to pieces, might be hanging by a thread, might be entirely fucking gone, and he, he…

He can’t. He just, he fucking can’t.

Because that the thing, isn’t it: the scenarios he’s imagining aren’t hypothetical—they’re all memories, too. Steve bloodied, Steve bruised, Steve’s bones broken and flesh torn. Steve still, too still; Steve’s skin under Eddie’s hands when he can’t find a pulse because Eddie’s shaking, same as now how Eddie is fucking shaking—

Eddie knows all those things. They’re so long ago, now, so distant but his fucking cells will never forget every single moment he saw the man he loves bigger than his own goddamn life hurt like that; be risked like that. Be lost like—

And that’s the difference. That’s what is unravelling him as he speeds through the streets quicker than he should, probably breaking more laws than he could count and definitely more than he gives a shit to notice: it’s the losing.

Because the first times, even the times that came after Steve was his: they didn’t come with the loss of so much time, so much of themselves, so much glorious life that they’d built between them, the struggles and the triumphs, the hard choices and the easy things that weren’t choices at all: everything hand-in-hand, every night spent curled around each other, all of them, all of him, inside that chest since he was twenty fucking year old, and Eddie doesn’t just not know how to be outside of what he shares with Steve.

Eddie doesn’t think his own heart can survive, if if Steve’s isn’t next to him.

Eddie’s damn fucking sure no part of him would want to.

It takes him a minute to steady himself enough to get out of the car, once he finally reaches the ER. Steady his body, but more his fucking soul because the whole of him is shaking, is crying out, is wailing unfettered and breaking because he’s terrified, he is goddamn terrified of what he’s going to find when he walks in but he has to, he has to because whatever awaits him, that’s his husband, that is the love of his whole goddamn life and if the worst is going to come for him he’ll face it like he’s faced everything else: at Steve Harrington’s side.

If the worst comes for one of them, then it came for them both.

So he’s stumbling, shuddering, but resolute in his chest when he flies through the sliding doors, eyes still swimming, unfocused but he makes himself take a deep breath—it takes a few tries, and he doesn’t quite succeed, it’s still a tremorous thing and his lungs are still in revolt, but it’s something, and he’ll take something; he has to to take something—

“Eddie?”

He almost doesn’t register it, the voice from the sick-spiral of his memories, all the love on the table to be forfeit—

He almost doesn’t register that his name’s not coming from inside his head.

“Oh my god, what happened?” There’s a flurry over motion in front of him, and he blinks rapidly to try and pin it down because it looks familiar, it smells familiar, it aches familiar in his chest but:

“What is it, what’s wrong?” and fuck, it feels familiar when a hand reaches for his cheek where it’s still damp, tacky for the tears; when another hand slides itself into Eddie’s and draws him in, a hand that fits like no other hand in this world or any other, ever—

“Are you okay?”

And the hand on his cheek turns him and follows his eyes and it takes that long for him to clear his vision properly, but now he’s just blinking so much because that, that can’t be, even if it feels in every goddamn way like it really is, but it can’t…

It can’t be Steve here, whole and on his feet and looking at Eddie with so much worry, so much heart as he tilts Eddie’s chin a little this way, that way, squints to try and see…something.

Eddie’s breath tears out of him in a wet fucking gasp;

“Am I okay?”

Because Eddie’s really not the one to fucking worry about here, Steve had—

“You’re in a hospital, Eds, that’s not usually where you go when you’re okay,” Steve’s eyes widen as he he slides both hands now to Steve’s head, holding him still and assessing…something, maybe, Jesus: Eddie doesn’t know, but he does know that the touch on him now makes his…makes his heart feel safe and he’d been fucking terrified he’d never feel that again.

“Fuck, what happened, baby, did you hit your,” and fingers are dancing gentle across points on Eddie’s skull, so delicate and careful and he can’t fucking help it—

“Are you real?”

Because he needs to know, he needs to know with words because this feels…this feels right and warm and impossible but also true, so.

He needs to know. “Am I…?” Steve’s lips part and his brow furrows before his jaw clenches in that dependable way he has of squaring up to the monster at hand, no matter the kind.

“Shit,” he breathes out slow but then he nods: resolved; “shit, okay. Okay, let’s find—“

“You are real,” and it turns out Eddie didn’t actually need him to say it. He just needed to see the flash in Steve’s eyes when he was ready to take on the world for the sake of love, the way he positions himself a little different in front of Eddie as he keeps one hand at Eddie’s cheek but then slides to brace more at his neck, purposeful, like he’s splinting a wound or something, and then a hand grabs for Eddie’s own again and: oh.

Oh yes. That is Steve Harrington, living and breathing and solid and real, because no one else protects like this.

No one.

Eddie’s heart stumbles, jackrabbits around a little, almost like a reset: like it knows as the implications sink in to Eddie’s mind that it’s not destined to break anymore.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees too easily, distracted as he tugs the gentlest bit at Eddie’s hand, toward the nurse’s station; “yeah, and we should—“

“And you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steve shrugs it off, but Eddie…Eddie’s vision is clearing. His pulse is settling. He can hear above the static and his limbs are getting lighter.

“You’re one-hundred-percent okay, not a scratch on you, not a single thing wrong,” he needs to make sure, like, so fucking sure.

“I am fine, Eddie,” Steve turns to look him straight on, exasperated and anxious and vibrant with it, so alive in it; “but you’re—“

Eddie’s hand moves almost without his conscious consent, definitely without a plan to grab at Steve’s arm and pinch his skin because Eddie was vaguely toying with the idea of pinches himself, and maybe with poking Steve a few extra times to make sure he didn’t disappear, but apparently his brain landed on: pinch Steve, avoid confirmation bias if your head wants to lie enough to make him real just you you, because you need him that bad.

Steve startles, and turns those beautiful brilliant bronze eyes on Eddie, stretches wide as he gapes a little at his husband.

Eddie…Eddie is here, in front of his living-breathing-gorgeously-aghast husband.

“Okay, oww,” Steve drops Eddie’s hand and pulls back, leaving Eddie’s head to its own devices as he looks a little shocked, shooting just shy of a glare Eddie’s way: full of questions.

Eddie—now that the biggest one’s solved, and solved so perfect, so gentle and sure and he doesn’t have to bury the soul of him; he doesn’t have to bury his soul—but now?

Eddie also has some fucking questions.

“Where’s your phone?” seems the most relevant to start with.

Steve blinks, frowns a little:

“It got lost in the crash—“

“Crash?” Eddie’s tone pitches up to squeak a little because: Steve’s here and whole in from of him, yes. But fuck, there was still a crash? He was—

“Not mine, my car’s still parked at fucking Jiffy Lube,” Steve adds with a huff; “I saw it happen so I stopped and—“

And Eddie knows his husband. He knows his husband better than he knows himself, and Eddie’s kinda made it a point of pride for how self-aware he’s grown to be these days, in living this life and loving Steve beyond the bounds of living at all. But he knows his Steve, and so he knows damn well what happened.

Car runs into car. Steve sees it and jumps out to help. Because Steve Harrington is a protector. Steve Harrington is a helper. Steve Harrington is the best man Eddie’s ever known.

Soon as he jumped into the fray, he wouldn’t have thought once about a fucking phone.

And Eddie, Eddie just, he needs to—

He grabs Steve’s hands and wraps them around his own waist, lets them go and then pulls Steve tight to his chest and buries his face in Steve’s shoulder as Eddie winds his way around his husband, feels him breathing, feels the tickle of his hair.

“You’re gonna kill me, Stevie,” Eddie whimpers, that going tight now all over again:

“You’ve got the biggest heart of fucking gold the world’s ever seen,” he moans into Steve’s collar; “and you’re going to fucking kill me.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but his hands move up to rub Eddie’s back, rote and learned and he might not wholly get, yet, what Eddie’s putting together, and where Eddie’s head’s been, what his heart’s been through, but the first thing he knows, and does like clockwork, is to love of his partner, to soothe him even if he doesn’t know what for.

“Someone found your phone, and they, umm,” Eddie licks his lips, takes a suffering breath and tries to straighten but he’s not ready, not yet: he slumps right back onto Steve’s shoulder:

“They called the studio.”

“Shit,” Steve hisses, bunches his hands in Eddie’s shirt and draws him tighter to his chest: “shit, they interrupted,” and oh, fuck no, fuck regretting the interruption—

“They told me they found it at a crash site,” Eddie grits out, the hurt of it still raw, like just saying the words no matter where they landed in trust, just recalling those minutes that felt like full nightmarish lifetimes, reopens the tender wounds it’d left in hims; “they found it with the case broken,” and Steve leans back, then, eyes saucers as he meets Eddie’s gaze, breath catches harsh.

“Oh,” Steve whispers, eyes darting back and forth between Eddie’s, taking the whole of him in and then he exhales so heavy:

“Oh, babe,” he murmurs, fucking mournful before he takes his hands and links them behind the base of Eddies’ skull and draws him in to the center of his chest, envelopes him there whole: “come here.”

And Eddie falls into that chest—rising-falling-living—he falls into Steve so fucking fast

“I am totally fine, I promise you,” Steve breathes again Eddie’s ear, close and dear and real: “car’s fine—“

“I don’t fucking care about the car—“ Eddie tenses up, appalled at the implication that he gave one single goddamn thought to the car— “No, like, as proof,” Steve’s quick to correct him, to ease the hackles on him; “I wasn’t in the crash, but it was pretty bad and,” Steve shrugs a little then adds soft: “I keep my first aid certs up to date for a reason, I figure, right?”

Jesus; yes, okay. Steve’s savior complex had largely mellowed to a non-interdimensional-threat level with time but he’s meticulous about keeping every skillset he’d gone out of his way to learn from professionals before they’d gone up against the Upside Down for the last time sharp and at the ready for anything: even now.

Fuck, but this beautiful, brilliant, impossible man.

“I was helping, best I could, until the EMTs got there,” Steve tells him softly, fills in the gaps because he knows Eddie’s mind, all the pictures it paints for itself, and in times like these it’s always the worst possible pictures—he knows Eddie needs the slate wiped clean with the truths, blessedly softer, in this:

“Police wanted me to stick around for a statement but the girl who was driving the first car, she was so panicked and she didn’t want to go alone so, umm,” Steve huffs a little, shifts against Eddie gentle and solid and here: “she said she knew me, she was pretty desperate I think, so I rode here with her,” and of course he did, of course he did because he’s Steve; “now I’m just waiting to make sure she gets out of surgery okay,” he squeezes Eddie then, like a punctuation, and it feels so, so fucking good; “also still have to give the goddamn statement, but fuck knows that’s just hurry-up-and-wait,” he turns, and he kisses Eddie’s hair then and Eddie feels something snap in him, give way and the lingering tension spill from his frame as he gasp a little on a breathy exhale:

“I love you so much,” and he does, god: god, but how much he loves this man.

“I love you too, baby,” Steve mouths against his head and Eddie closes his eyes and nuzzles his a little closer as he puts it into words, because it feels like he needs to, it feels like in Steve’s arms like this, pressed up close to him to feel this undeniable life in him: it feels like the coast is clear enough to risk it, to confess:

“I was so fucking scared,” and the words only break a little, and that’s more than Eddie honestly expected.

“I am so sorry,” Steve bows his chin down to graze lips against Eddie’s hairline, delicate and intimate and shivery, trembly down Eddie’s spin for the best of reasons, now.

“Not your fault,” Eddie’s quite to counter, to make clear, because: “shit, you didn’t do anything, I just…”

Eddie makes himself pull back and meet Steve’s eyes, reaches out to frame his face, dear and desperate:

“I can’t lose you,” he moans a little, begs a little, says it with a bare line of something primal echoing in it, scraped straight from his bones: “I cannot ever lose you.”

“I know,” Steve turns and kisses one of his palms, and those two words hold the promise of five more they’ve said so many times, and held so true between them for so many year, through so fucking much:

It’s the same for me.

And to be loved the same as he loves is a fucking privilege; it’s heady and it’s wonderful and Eddie needs it, needs Steve, more than goddamn air.

“Sit with me?” Steve covers Eddie’s hands with his at his cheeks, and nods a little toward the blessedly-quiet collection of chairs by the windows; “while I wait?”

“Nowhere else I’d go,” Eddie says it like the given that it is, and pulls Steve close to kiss him full, to press his lips to Steve’s and drink his warmth, his breath, to feel it sink int past his heart and pump through his veins:

“Not ever, Stevie,” he speaks against Steve’s lips, all of him in it, every vow inside it:

“Not ever.”

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #established relationship #established steddie #married steddie #rockstar eddie munson #teacher steve harrington #rockstar husbands #steve harrington's heart of gold #(will quite possibly be the death of his husband holy FUCK)#criminal levels of softness #steddielovemonth #love is terrifying #these two boys have been together for DECADES at this point and it FUCKING SHOWS #old married couple!steddie #stranger things

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peachitykeen · 9 months

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A romance is a-blooming!

#It’s CRIMINAL I haven’t drawn these two together yet!#I love their dynamic!#SO SO much!!#I realized I haven’t been drawing enough Eddie either!#I adore you Mr. Dear. I promise!#My art!#Welcome Home #Frank Frankly #Eddie Dear

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dudeitiskarev · 1 month

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I call this slut behaviour

#Aaron Hotchner #amor de mi vida #Aaron Hotchner gif #Aaron Hotchner gifs #criminal minds gifs #dudeitiskarev gifs #season two

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whoisspence · 2 months

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of course i don't have any favorites in the bau i love them all equally....

#i'm lying #spencer reid #penelope garcia #my last two brain cells #they could rule the world if they wanted to #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #bau #bau team #behavioral analysis unit #whoisspence

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justawritterwithideas · 1 year

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"Let's get started," Aaron commented, letting Jennifer take over to start showing the case.

"Wait, two of our geniuses are missing." Emily turned to look at the two empty chairs across from each other.

"Reid and L/N are coming late." Rossi turned to look toward the door. There was no sign of one or the other showing up. They waited a couple of minutes before Hotch signaled J.J. to initiate or they would lose a lot of valuable time saving a woman.

"Okay, this is Dorris Archer. The third woman to go missing this year in Boise, Idaho." He paused to flick through the other images. "Along with Paula Renmar and Samantha Rush, they disappeared within two months of each other." He paused to notice in the distance a shadow approaching. "Well... Hello."

It was Spencer. But it wasn't the Spencer she knew.

His long hair had been cut short and, now, he wore his hair quite fashionable, a bit tousled, but giving him that youthful air that attracted the attention of all the women in the office.

The boy gave her an elongated smile, left the notebook he was holding on the table and sat down at his desk. His gaze wandered from Hotch, who was next to him, to the empty chair in front of him, where you sat.

Where was it? Spencer wondered.

The boardroom table was surrounded by silence, everyone focusing on the youngest of the group and his new haircut.

"Did you join a boy band?"

"No."

Laughter joined Hotch's sentence, causing confusion on Spencer's face but that didn't last long as the attention quickly dissipated as a new shadow approached, at great speed, all the way to the boardroom.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry" The sole of your tennis shoes echoed in the room and was soon silenced as you situated yourself in your seat across from Reid. Your hand went to your hair, combing it before you could look straight ahead and feel the anticipation of the team for your reaction.

It was an open secret that the two of you had a clear attraction to each other, even more so coming from you when flirting was your way of responding to every comment Spencer gave you as flattery.

Your gaze lifted, stopping on the young genius and his new style. Your mouth opened slightly and, without thinking, you blurted out.

"Ay papi, who are you and what did you do with dr. Reid?" The rest of them laughed again at seeing the blush of his pink cheeks take over even his ears. "It looks good on you, very good. My compliments to the hairdresser." You gave him a wink and turned your attention back to the front when Derek muttered "Turn off Reid, or I'll have to call the fire department."

Spencer smiled as he felt his cheeks burn, perhaps his way of getting your attention had been a complete success.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

a/n: A tiny boyband!spencer x reader blurb, because I've been obsessed with boyband!spencer for weeks now, my tiktok is full of it everywhere.

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer with boyband haircut will lead me to ruin and he only had it in two chapters.#boyband!spencer x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #blurb #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x you

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rikebe · 8 months

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wont you take me to.....junkey town....

#i missed these two. theyre still too good for their source material.#grimy criminals who are also gay. like theyre so cool #also theyre t4t #overwatch #roadrat #junkers #roadhog #mako rutledge #jamison fawkes #junkrat #ow junkrat #ow roadhog #art only #ow #ow2 #ow2 junkrat #ow2 roadhog

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miwhotep · 3 months

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THE PROBLEMS WITH MILVERTON’S WRITING IN TWO CRIMINALS

This post didn’t mean to hate on the Two Criminals Arc, since there were great aspects of the story I really enjoyed, too: the Sherlock and John parts or the Sherlock-William face-off. I just want to talk about what are my problems with it when it comes to the writing of Milverton, because from his viewpoint, most of the things just don’t make sense.

Let’s start with Milverton’s visit to Sherlock’s office. I used to hate this part, too, for being so heavily based on BBC Sherlock, where Milverton also claims Sherlock’s office as his and makes a disgusting scene, including pissing. When I first read the story, I was angry since copying the scene didn’t make sense: in BBC, Milverton is a foreigner who wants to demonstrate how domesticated English people are with pissing and being able to get away with it – but YuuMori’s Milverton is an Englishman, who even likes to act like someone from the high-class: he is evil, but shown before being generally moderate when it comes to interacting with people. I was also angry because I felt that the scene is literally pissing on the meaning of a character like Milverton: he doesn’t need to act petty or threatening, he is a blackmailer, his whole existence is a threat. He is scary because he tortures people wearing a mask of a smooth-talker, even polite gentleman.

BUT! What if his tendency to make scenes like this is a strategy on his part? With his behavior, he pushed Sherlock to the point where he didn’t find breaking in to his house a problematic thing – he wanted Sherlock to surely break in to him, after all. Milverton angered Sherlock and his companion to make sure none of them, neither the more moral John nor Mary finds anything bad in the break-in, so Sherlock will do as he expected.

Before we move to the second part of the arc, let’s take a look at Milverton’s personality, methods and the conclusions he made about the Lord of Crime while investigating him.

Milverton more than once mentions that he always does a thorough research when it comes to his “cases”, and we also see proofs to this statement beside the Lord of Crime case: Sherlock mentions that he seems to know how much money exactly the people he want to blackmail have or their past and present relationships, he got Mary’s secrets and even the list with her name – so recovering any documents he wish for is not a problem for him either, - or during the White Knight arc, he knew the pressure points of both that police guy who killed Whiteley’s assassin or Sturridge and he was able to use them for his advantage. Milverton also mentions that he knows everything about everyone in London – because he is a control freak who just NEEDS to know everything. Getting information on someone is an everyday job for him – he is not just a blackmailer; he is also the King of Media.

Beside researching, Milverton’s method also includes analyzing people’s psychology and their weak points – as we see in the White Knight arc – to help him decide what actions he needs to take to make his victims act like he wants: whether it’s about forcing them to do crime or just make them act like catalysts to others.

When it comes to Milverton’s research regarding the Lord of Crime / William James Moriarty, he mentions that he spends every hour getting information on him: he knows fully the childhood of the original William, his relationships with other people, what type of person he was while he also researched everything about the present William. He notices the inconsistency between his personality before and after the fire happened, and able to deduce from getting through the court case of the fake-William who the William James Moriarty now is. He also researched Albert and Louis carefully and knows how much the three brothers are caring about each other. He also knows that the Lord of Crime is a Robin Hood figure, that’s why he foiled his Jack the Ripper agenda or took up Whiteley’s crimes to preserve the equality movement. The Lord of Crime’s good nature is how he deduced William James Moriarty being the Lord of Crime.

Before Two Criminals, Milverton is shown as a smart and competent villain who was able to outwit Sherlock more than once and didn’t make any bigger mistake.

Let’s finally move to the second part of Two Criminals where everything what got previously build up regarding his character falls to pieces.

First, Milverton not knowing the relationship between Sherlock and William despite the research he did – it seems so impossible since Sherlock and William met at least three times and he could’ve easily gotten to know about all of them.

The Noahtic incident: this was especially a big thing, Moriarty’s staged crime to expose Enders – and Milverton is a media mogul, a news like this surely caught his eye either looking into what really happened onboard just for his curiosity – don’t forget, he NEEDS to know about everything – or later connecting it to the Lord of Crime when he started doing his research. (And there was already a rumor among the common people about the Lord of Crime’s existence who helps the good – if I think it through, it seems so unbelievable that Milverton only started researching the Lord of Crime after the Jack the Ripper thing: Milverton is the Big Bad of the city, he should’ve feared that the Lord of Crime coming after him once, too). And when he researches the guest list of the ship to find Moriarty’s name on it, he could’ve noticed that Sherlock Holmes was aboard, too.

The train incident: well, that was a more isolated case, but it surely ended in the news – so how no journalists knew that the one who solved the murder case was a noble, alongside the famous Sherlock Holmes? The people aboard surely started gossiping about it, it should’ve been breaking news and Milverton could’ve easily gotten know who was the noble. And this would be also an example of a noble and detective’s social spheres colliding – what he was so surprised about in Two Criminals. (Adding to this point: Milverton, as a blackmailer, deals with all kinds of people: he loves ruining both nobles and commoners, why would he think that colliding of the social spheres of a noble and a detective is impossible? Milverton himself was an example that all kinds of people can meet, after all.)

Durham: no, I don’t start theorizing on that one of the students appearing in that exam looked exactly like Ruskin – but Milverton looked up William’s professor life, too. How could he not know that once the famous Sherlock Holmes went to Durham, too? Students surely started gossiping about their math teacher meeting the famous detective.

Second, Milverton miscalculating William’s pressure point – Milverton always knows the pressure points of his “cases” and he did such a wide research of William’s personal life, he knows the strong bond between the three brothers. He also knows that William is a Robin Hood figure and noticed his method in action: during the Jack the Ripper case, Liam united the police and the commoners against the fake Ripper, how hard would have been for a person like Milverton (who more than once outwitted Sherlock and has a good grasp on people’s personalities) figuring out William’s true plan: uniting the nobles and commoners against the Lord of Crime? He should’ve known that William’s pressure point is not his name published, but his family. Here, I also want to add that Milverton's usual method of blackmailing someone into doing something tend to happen with the use of his blackmailee's family - just remember the police officer whom he made murder Whiteley's assasin or Sturridge whose family got kidnapped to make Sturridge murder Whiteley's family - so Milverton would totally go for Liam's family, too, even if it's just looking at his tendencies. This just doesn't make sense.

Third, miscalculating Sherlock as a person. Milverton faced off Sherlock more than once in the past and surely expected to face him again at other blackmailing cases, he must’ve done enough research on Sherlock Holmes, too – he likes being fully armed when he goes to battle after all. So Milverton knows that Sherlock has his own type of morality – he even relied on that when he calculated that Sherlock will break in to him for the greater good. Milverton also knows that William is a Robin Hood figure who does crimes for the greater good and he surely suspected that Sherlock figured this out, too – so why was he so sure that Sherlock will arrest William when they meet?

Fourth, the safety of Milverton. He always travels with bodyguards and a shielded carriage – if he is doing something so dangerous like facing the Lord of Crime who murders evil people like him, wouldn’t it make sense to make some arrangements providing his safety? Like Sherlock once pointed out, he is a coward – why was he so stupidly brave in such a dangerous situation like this? It doesn’t make sense at all.

And the last one I’m most mad about: he was killed off so easily, despite that he meant to be a formidable foe to the Moriarties. Killing him was no effort to them. He was originally built up as a cunning villain in the acts before: defeating him should’ve required more brains than brawn. Milverton became a totally wasted character who had so many possibilities to explore but ended up being just a way to make Sherlock and William face off. Even if it’s about Milverton’s hubris of being overconfident – one big mistake is tolerable, but four at once? To a person who barely made any mistakes before? Now it’s just a total inconsistent character writing.

I thought a lot about how Milverton could’ve gotten defeated without totally massacring his character and I came up with an idea. First, Milverton threatens William to publish Albert and Louis’ identities as the helpers to the Lord of Crime – Liam would never let anything to happen to his brothers - to make him let Sherlock arrest him, while blackmailing Mary. Sherlock ending up arresting William and Milverton doesn’t get killed on that night. But Albert lets William out so he can escape and do his purge as the Lord of Crime and continue with the Moriarty plan. During the revolution Liam causes, Milverton’s crimes get to the light, too, so the people whom he toyed with finally take their revenge and cause his downfall like he did with so many others – society casts him out as a human trash. Milverton either get killed, brought to court or get chased away from London.

This was a really long essay, but I wanted to show my viewpoint about the story and why I am so angry about it when it comes to Milverton: a competent and smart character getting turned into an idiot. It was a really disappointing ending to his arc.

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #charles augustus milverton #ynm sherlock #william james moriarty #two criminals

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starry-bi-sky · 1 month

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i have been unmedicated for the entirety of spring break and thus have had little interest in writing this down, but i have been thinking about this for the entire week (as well as a dpdc clone danny au that resulted in it becoming its entirely separate batman au that includes a teenage vigilante bruce wayne, an ocarina, and me entirely incapable of making a batman au without making bruce dirt poor but we're not talking about that) and so i've finally went 'fuck it' and forcibly grabbed my laptop. I will get this done in one sitting even if it kills me.

BUT. This is about neither clone^2 danny nor about who i am calling Ocarina Batman. This is about my Danyal Al Ghul Au and more SPECIFICALLY it's me thinking about his relationship with Sam and Tucker specifically.

Tucker and Sam? Adore this asshole (affectionate) with every fiber of their being. And it is very much a reciprocated feeling, but Danny's thoughts will not be delved into much other than he would kill for them.

Tucker? The only person currently capable of getting a deep, loud, belly laugh out of Danny. Sam can get him to smile and to laugh, but it's the kind that's a chuckle-under-the-breath. The quiet, looks-down-while-huffing laughter. Snorts once with laughter and then grins stupidly.

But Tucker? Tucker can crack a slew of stupid jokes and Danny will be incapacitated for the next five minutes because he's laughing so hard that he can't breath. He lands one well-timed pun or quip and Danny will be close to tears. His laughter is their favorite sound in the whole world.

Sam is lowkey jealous of this ability, and she's gotten a belly laugh out of Danny a few times. But alas, it is Tucker who wields this power and has gotten it the most times out of the two of them.

They're also both physically affectionate with Danny as much as possible. It started roughly around when they were 12-ish, a year since they befriended Danny, and they noticed that he sought after touch but never seemed to initiate (and was in some ways repulsed by it). They started slowly being more touchy with him. Hooking a finger around his to lead him somewhere, tapping his wrist, looping arms. Little touches, grabs, etc, to get him used to it, and once he started doing it back they started increasing it.

It's gotten to a point where he will now just. Lay on them. Like a lizard sunbathing on a rock. Leaning on their backs when they're sitting in class before the bell rings, his chin on their heads. He'll talk about anything with his arms looped around their shoulders.

If they're sitting on a couch at either of their houses, he'll lay his legs on theirs. Him and Tucker will press their feet against the other's and try and push against them (newsflash: Danny always wins, Tucker claims its the ghost strength but Danny's been winning since before his accident)

Naturally, both Sam and Tucker know where Danny keeps his weapons on his person, and are allowed to grab them off of him if they need it. His only requirement is that they don't lose his weapons if they take it and forget to return it immediately.

They both understand how big of a thing this is from Danny, and so they do their best to treat his weapons with a lot of respect and care because they know its his way of saying he trusts them.

Sam and Tucker are so fond of Danny it's insane. Like fr. That's their goddamn best friend, and they are so protective of him. Emotionally, physically, you name it. They will tear the head off a grown man if they need to, Danny's had scars since he arrived in Amity Park and Sam and Tucker both are going to find the person who put them there and make them pay for it.

One time, Tucker overheard a bunch of upperclass girls speaking nastily about Danny and about the rumors surrounding him, calling him names like 'freak', 'monster', etc. Danny was with him and heard it, and seemingly appeared unbothered by it, even telling Tucker that he was used to such rumors.

Tucker was so furious that hacked into the school system later that night and tanked those girls grades. They were kicked out of their clubs and had to go to mandatory tutoring for the rest of the year. He made sure to leave some way of letting them know it was him who did it.

And Sam doesn't like using her money for things, doesn't like abusing that wealth. So instead, whenever her parents talk bad about Danny, she causes a media incident that has her parents scrambling to deal with. She does something wild, outrageous by her parents' standards.

She heard some boys on the basketball team making fun of Danny once, similar to those girls had. She kicks up a fuss about something eco-unfriendly at school and forcibly holds a protest on the same day of the big home basketball game, forcing them to cancel the event and reschedule to a visiting school.

She anonymously donates money so that there's new uniforms for the team but oops! Looks like she "forgot" to donate enough money for them to get uniforms for all the team members, and strangely enough those boys in particular didn't get them! Looks like they'll have to wait until more money gets donated for the basketball team to get their new, nice uniforms. The old ones look so ratty in comparison, right?

And since the football team gets most of the sport money, that might just take awhile. And if (and when) they kick up a fuss? oops! Off the basketball team you go, :) such unsportsman-like behavior is unfit for the team.

(The only good thing about how corrupt the school system is is that she can use it to her advantage too.)

The both of them know that Danny suspects them for the sudden misfortune falling on these people, but he doesn't call them out on it. He's kinder than he used to be, but not kind enough to vouch for people who speak badly of him. Sometimes, he might just congratulate them on not getting caught.

Because Danny is their wonderful, hurt friend with a "slightly" Blue and Orange Moral code, and enough scars that people have been calling him a criminal (and worse) since he arrived in Amity Park when he was ten. And they'll be damned if he gets hurt anymore.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul #its kinda hard to get my thoughts in order bc i am ✨unmedicated✨ rn BUT #this is the gist of it #i could wax poetic about how much sam and tucker adore danny as their friend but alas. the wax is not waxing. it is stuck to the paper #and i am chipping it off with my nail and its getting stuck under it.#ocarina batman has been in my head since friday someone come sedate me. him and pit fighter batman too. who is ALSO a piss poor teenage #bruce wayne who instead of a vigilante and villains is a PIT FIGHTER. he fights blindfolded thats why he's called the bat #ocarina batman's Look is if you combined punk + assassins creed aesthetic together and then gave it an ocarina #the ocarina is because i thought it'd be cool if its how he and robin communicated across long distances bc they didnt have comms #because they are ✨poor✨ and live in a one room apartment in crime alley.#and also the mental image of him sitting on. rooftop ledge in the rain playing 'song of storms' from LoZ was too fantastic to ignore #like bro imagine hearing that as a criminal. you're off doing shady shit with your gang and in the distance you hear the faint and #haunting melody of an ocarina. two of them in a call and response duet. and its getting closer. and you cannot find where #siren type shit fr fr #look he has the assassins creed hood and a long ass coat that has spikes on the end that when flared out looks like the silhouette of a bat #on fucking GOD i am this 👌 close to finding an artist doing commissions to make this for me. i am frothing at the mouth #he is 17-19 years old with his little brother-son Robin. Logically Robin is Dick but in my heart of hearts the first Robin is Jason #and he has perfected the art of getting his older brother to play songs on the pan flute for him. long pitchy whine on his own ocarina #the familiar childlike 'pleeeaaaaaaase?' and he knows he's won when there is a 10s silence on the other end before his brother plays #a lullaby.#look up 'sailor moon - pan flute (relaxing) on youtube' and when there's the thumbnail of two green skinned aliens with long blue and pink #hair. click on it. THAT is the song Bruce plays.#hhhhhhhhhhh frothing at the mouth over this au sooo fucking badly

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