#By living caution tape I mean they can’t afford to actually get more so he just fucking tposes around crime scenes

[fyzzyfuzz]

my son :3

[mithranqueersmusings]

The Night Before XV

Chapter: 15/15

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo hangs around after the club closes and meets a stranger.

Tags: Smut, Slow Burn

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo was quickly getting accustomed to the routine of waking up beside George, it was definitely a pleasant sight to open his eyes to first thing in the morning. Although it was rather strange being in someone else's bed, he couldn't deny that George's flat had a real warmth and cosiness to it. He thought back on the previous night fondly, scolding himself for ever being so concerned that it would've been anything less than perfect. Unfortunately it wasn't long before George was waking up too, meaning it was only a matter of time before they would have to break out of this peaceful serenity, the thought of returning to his flat alone again was already upsetting Ringo.

"Morning." George grumbled, evidently feeling very groggy.

"Morning." Ringo repeated, an instinctive smile forming on his lips.

George let out a groan as he stretched his body out, it didn't take Ringo long to learn that every morning was a struggle for George to get out of bed at a decent time. As George twisted and turned, Ringo noticed the marks on his wrists that had been left from the restraints, without much thought he caught one of George's arms and rubbed his thumb against the aggravated skin.

"It doesn't hurt does it?" Ringo asked, concerned.

George didn't realise what he was referencing at first, once he caught on he let out a casual laugh "Not at all. Even if it did, it'd be worth it."

Ringo held onto George for longer than necessary, eventually giving into his instincts completely and pulling him closer for a gentle kiss. The longer Ringo could drag out their time in bed together, the better. George was more than happy to oblige, lifting his leg to overlap with Ringo's hip so that they were pressed together even closer. Ringo slipped his hand under George's shirt, just to feel the warmth of his skin against his fingertips. George pulled away first, though didn't move too far as their noses were almost touching.

"I didn't take it too far did I? I was worried I'd be kinda throwing you in at the deep end." George rested his hand against his face.

"Not at all." Ringo chuckled softly "Don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting it at all, so I was definitely shocked. But I was surprised how into the whole thing I was."

George hummed satisfied "You surprised me too. At least I know I can maybe turn it up a notch or two next time."

"There's more?" Ringo scoffed "Jesus, George... I'm really starting to think someone's paying you to torture me."

George paused, a knowing look on his face "I'm not gonna make the obvious joke here, as much as I want to."

"You don't have any plans today, do you?" Ringo asked cautiously, unable to look George in the eye so instead focused on his collarbones, trailing his finger along them.

"None at all, why?" George responded in kind.

"Well, not to run the risk of overstaying my welcome, it'd be nice to just chill together." Ringo spoke quietly "If you want to, of course."

"Of course I want to." George smiled, washing away any fear Ringo had "No sex, though... I need at least a day to recover from all that."

"You and me both." Ringo chuckled.

George reluctantly rolled out of bed, making his way over to the wardrobe to find something decent to wear. Ringo enjoyed the view, George peeling off his shirt so that he was stood there only in his boxers. Colours and patterns popped out from inside the wardrobe, Ringo couldn't help feeling rather bland in comparison as he watched George pull out a variety of options, each item of clothing more impressive than the last. Looking around George's room, it was clear that his unique perspective extended far beyond merely what he wore: the furniture was covered in imagery, whether it was from a multitude of stickers, crude drawings or more artful painting. Everything just screamed George, no corner of the room seemed to have been neglected. Ringo supposed he could get used to being in an environment like this.

"Planning on getting out of bed today?" George asked with an eyebrow raised, having thrown on some patterned trousers.

"If you give me a reason to, sure." Ringo responded playfully.

"Well I'm not about to serve you breakfast in bed, I'm not your maid." George took a few steps closer to the bed, hands on his slim hips.

"Shame, you'd make such a pretty one." Ringo pouted.

Despite his jokes, Ringo did manage to pull himself out of the comfort and warmth. He fished for his clothes in the living room, finding them dotted around the floor, before returning to dress himself. George already looked ready for the day, his hair brushed out and a black crop top thrown on to cover his chest but leave his stomach exposed.

"Have you always dressed like that?" Ringo asked, slipping back into his trousers.

"Like what?" George knitted his eyebrows together quizzically, clearly wanting to hear Ringo's description of his dress sense.

"Just very- Expressive." Ringo treaded carefully, George laughed at his caution.

"Not always." George finally answered "I just think fashion should be fun, you know? Everyone's so serious about everything..."

"Couldn't agree more." Ringo smiled.

George led the way into the kitchen, which was filled with even more houseplants than the living room. There were a few music posters taped to the wall: Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Roy Orbison to name a few, it reminded Ringo of his teenage bedroom.

"Your place is incredible." Ringo said, a little taken aback, as he slid to sit at the small table.

"Thanks." George replied with his head in the fridge "I want to move soon, though."

"Really? I can't image why." Ringo continued noticing small details in the room: the novelty salt and pepper shakers, the aged recipe books piled on the counter.

George began starting work on breakfast "Well, I do love it here but I really want a place with a garden. I'm starting to run out of space for these guys." He gestured broadly to the plants.

"Yeah... I've never met anyone with so many before." Ringo chuckled.

"Safe to say I'm a little obsessed." George focused on the food, but the warmth never left his voice "I work at the garden centre, actually. If you were curious."

"Oh, that must be nice." Ringo admired George from where he was sat "I don't think I've ever been, actually."

"What?" George almost shouted "We have to go!"

Ringo laughed, a little caught off guard "Is it really that good? I thought it was just a bunch of old people."

"Well, that's not untrue." George began cracking eggs into a pan "It's not really that special, I just like it there. I get a discount too so if you wanna get any plants, which you should want to, I can sort it for you."

"Why do I feel like you're threatening me?" Ringo chuckled.

"Maybe I am, just a little." George snickered.

They continued talking and joking over their breakfast, luckily for Ringo no under-the-table action occurred this time. Not soon after they were relaxing on the sofa, flicking through the variety of terrible daytime television on offer. They settled on a show about home renovation, always commenting on whether the end result was even an improvement at all, as though they were both experts in the field.

After George got up to put the kettle on, he decided to invade Ringo's space on the sofa by cuddling up into his front. Ringo couldn't deny that there wasn't really enough space for this kind of intimacy, but he allowed it all the same, running his hand over to George's stomach to keep him in place.

The hours soon passed by, neither of them wanting to acknowledge how late it was becoming. Ringo wished he could've stayed here forever, but he knew that was taking things a little too far. As the daylight began to fade, he had to face the fact that he had work in the morning and couldn't really afford to spend another night with George. He decided he should at least have a shower, just to prolong the amount of time he could spend here. When he re-emerged, George was spread out on the bed with a book in his hand.

"So... I should probably get going." Ringo announced, drying off his hair roughly with a towel.

George set his book down and frowned "Suppose you can't stay here forever."

"No, unfortunately not." Ringo sighed, both of them looking at one another but saying nothing further.

The moment dragged on for a little while longer, neither saying anything but it was fairly clear what they were both thinking.

"Before I go, though, I wanted to ask you..." Ringo began, doubting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

"What?" George asked expectantly, sitting upright on the bed.

"I don't want to rush into anything, but- I just wondered what you thought about maybe, only if you want to, maybe making things a little more... exclusive?" Ringo cursed his ineloquence.

George laughed and for a second Ringo worried he'd misread everything entirely, until George spoke "Ringo, if you're gonna ask me out you're gonna have to do it properly."

Ringo paused then tried once more "George, do you wanna be my-"

"Yes." George cut him off with a grin.

"Great." Ringo exhaled with a nervous laugh.

George slid off the bed, approaching Ringo with a familiar look in his eyes "You're not about to leave your boyfriend without a kiss goodbye, are you?"

"Of course not." Ringo whispered as George moved in closer, locking their lips together.

Ringo had to use every ounce of restraint in his body to pull away from George, or else they'd no doubt be repeating the scenes of last night before long. It nearly broke his heart to leave George like this, knowing that both of them would do just about anything to spend more time together, but he could leave satisfied with the knowledge that this was only the beginning of what was hopefully a long relationship.

Things had already been fairly eventful, and it hadn't even been a month that the two of them had known each other. Whatever else was in store, Ringo unabashedly looked forward to it, for the knowledge that George was now his own, made him feel like everything was going to be perfect from here on out.

[angelhummel]

5x04

Recap guy voice: Jake and Marley have found true love so you know that’s gonna last!! Umm rude. Also no bc the writers don’t know how to have a relationship without cheating so bleh

I’ve said it before but my favorite parts of the show are when they’re just sitting around acting like fools and the dialogue hasn’t started yet. Blaine and Artie doing the little finger wave thing at the piano? Adorable 

I’m glad Tina has some sense and knows Kurt was the biggest Gaga at that school 

“Is there a third option?” Honestly this is so silly omg. But good silly honestly 

Also ugh I’m sad that they didn’t have a full Gaga episode. Like she had half a dozen albums out at that point with like a million different styles of music she used. They could’ve done a whole ep. You don’t have to split Gaga with Kiss or Katy, trust 

“Adam kicked me out of the Adam’s Apples when he heard I was engaged” aww there’s that boyfriend that’s so much sweeter and softer and more considerate than Blaine :) 

“Finn wouldn’t want you sitting on the sidelines while life passes you by” isn’t that exactly what she has to tell him in like three episodes? 

“What about you, babe?” Realistically I know Dani is the lesbian Adam but I still love her and she’s cute as long as we ignore the biphobia oops 

Penny: And if this homemade dark mark doesn’t convince you...

TRUE JACKSON VP

Oh my god I remember someone describing Blaine in a red polo as a cupcake and then in this polo with the decorations he was “a cupcake with sprinkles” and he’s wearing it when Sam says “I like sweet things too” he’s talking about cupcake sprinkles Blaine

So that’s two episodes in a row where Kurt and Santana coordinate outfits. Could they be any cuter?? 

Sorry Kurt, I love you, but the Apocalypsticks is a phenomenal name 

ADAM! The good Adam. I love him. He was criminally underused 

“It’s a little Project Runway. Season six” oh Kurt your jabs give me life 

I would literally die for Lady Gaga but AL’s version of Marry the Night is just like... perfect

This is why I wish Klaine didn’t get back together for a while. Bc how could Kurt not wanna jump on that???

I hate Bree but her in this caution tape outfit... I mean I’m only human 

Oh my god Marley getting all excited over the Julie Andrews film tribute?? Someone tell me how on earth she could be anything but Kurt’s (and Blaine’s) child??? 

How can Marley afford to go to the movies and Breadstix every weekend anyway lmao. She broke

“Former teen stripper” honey don’t make me keep thinking about that...

Omg why does Marley look so starstruck when Sam says Penny will be attending the show?? She’s so cute 

“...Lady Gaga?” “Who?!” I love Becky sometimes 

I love Rachel’s more mature s4-5 wardrobe but this polka dot sweater... Honey. No.

Is Mr. Schuester pretending to teach? Awkward 

“Let’s reenact a live birth on stage!” Sorry Unique that’s not for another four episodes 

PENIS FLY TRAP how can anyone not love Unique omg 

I fucking love the guys’ Gaga costumes but I would straight up trade my first born child to see Kurt in that white corset get up Ryder is wearing 

And here’s my fave part of the show, where Mr. Schuester suspends Marley for not wearing a seashell bikini (: 

“I can be whoever you want” omg why don’t more people ship Kelliott?? Short answer, they just like hating Blaine and don’t actually care about who meshes well with Kurt 

“Lady Gaga is too dark for me” oh my god these people 

Sorry but Wide Awake is literally like musical ambien. They sound great but at what cost??? 

I also lowkey ship Blaine and Jake. I mean look at those big moon eyes from Blaine when Jake is singing. I can’t 

Omg Jake kissed Marley’s forehead. Cute. Why why why does what’s about to happen have to happen???

Areola 51 Santana oh my god I love you

I kind of love that Rachel takes a whole ass backseat in this episode. It’s about damn time 

“Gaga and Katy push each other to try harder, to get better, to be bolder!” Remember when the legendary Bob the Drag Queen was like “Is Beyonce worried about Britney?” That’s Gaga about Katy lmao

All these costumes are amazing but Tina and Kitty especially... oh my god. 

“That was BS. Before Sue”. Okay but Sue is right though. Dress code is a thing that exists lol 

I don’t like this song and wtf is this jerky movement down the halls but ugh. Everyone looks so good. I can’t stay mad

And now the loincloths and leopard bras. This show really gets me 

And another event (this time forming a band and performing together) that revolves around Kurt and he doesn’t get a single solo line in a song :) 

[lichlover]

Here’s a prompt. Post-story and song, everyone is sitting around talking about birthdays, and angus says he never really had a good one. So taako, being the best dad ever, throws angus a huge party and he loves it and loves his giant weird family even more

please consider donating to my ko-fi!

“Y’know what must’ve sucked?” says Taako. “Being born on Story and Song.”

He’s nestled comfortably in Kravitz’s lap, one arm slung over the back of the couch and the other balancing a half-empty cocktail. His glass isn’t the only one that looks like it’s about to be in need of refilling. Lup is about to reach the bottom of hers, and sitting against her, Barry holds a drink that glows eerily whenever he so much as shifts his grip. Magnus is the only one who’s drinking something Angus actually recognizes. His tabard of ale borders on the stereotypical, threatening to overflow with foam and making him red in the face, despite his insistence that he’s completely sober because “C’mon, you guys, I’d never get drunk in front of a kid!”

As if the man could convince anyone his tabard is brimming with a Shirley Temple.

But tonight isn’t about calling Magnus out on his bullshit. It’s about coming down from the aftermath and escaping from the world. They’re all sitting in the Bureau’s Reclaimer suite, because reporters haven’t quite figured out a way to get to the moon just yet, and it serves as their sanctuary away from the glitz and bright lights of fame. Angus, who has reached adolescence in theory but not in practice, appreciates the opportunity for a breather. The most recognition he’d received for his detective work had been a medal from the odd mayor or two; the rare commendation from a police commissioner. Garnering a worldwide fanbase—well, it should go without saying, but that’s another thing altogether.

As much as the Birds make a show of revelling in stardom (particularly Taako, who insists it’s his birthright), Angus can tell they’re feeling as relieved as he is. Why else would they be drinking like their lives depend on it?

Speaking of which. His mentor takes another gulp, effectively draining the cocktail, and goes on. “What the hell are you s’posed to do when your birthday is the fuckin’—fuckin’, when-the-world-got-saved day? You think anybody’s gonna pay attention to you then? Nah, they’re too—too busy gettin’ smashed and partying in the streets to worry about little Timmy or whatever, over there with—with a pair of commemorative socks, or whatever. Lame.”

“I thought you didn’t like birthdays,” Magnus points out.

“I don’t. They’re a big fuckin’ inconvenience. I’m makin’ conver—conversa—” Taako rolls his eyes and nudges Kravitz’s shoulder. “What’s the—?”

“Conversation,” his boyfriend provides, patiently. It had, admittedly, taken Angus some time to get over the man’s Grim Reaper status, because there is no amount of logic and common sense that keeps a child from feeling uneasy in the presence of death. But Kravitz, for all his awkward, outdated mannerisms and omnipresent exasperation, is a good man. He loves Taako, Angus knows; even if the L-word is something both of them insist on dancing around like they’re doing a quickstep on hot coals. And he’s kind to Taako’s family and everyone he cares about. Angus approves.

Taako reaches out to set his glass on the side table, misses, and lets it drop harmlessly to the carpet. “Yeah. That. Who even celebrates birthdays anymore?”

A murmur of consensus ripples over the room, and Angus readjusts his hold on the hot chocolate nestled in his hands. “Right!” he says, breaking into the conversation with a tentative smile. “They’re not a big deal, right?”

Fourteen pairs of eyes settle on him instantaneously. Despite the fact that he’s never known such a thing, Angus imagines it’s to the effect of fourteen parents staring him down. He isn’t a huge fan of it. “What?” he says, and takes a nervous sip of his hot chocolate because there’s nothing else to fill the silence. “What is it?”

“Ango,” says Magnus, in the tone of voice he uses when one of the Hammer and Tails’ dogs has wandered off. “Tell me you’ve had a birthday party.”

“Even a weird kid like you’s gotta have at least one of ’em under his belt,” Merle interjects. “Right?”

The discomfort in Angus’s expression is reaching Kravitz levels of obvious. “Uh… no? I mean, I got presents from my grandpa when he could afford it, but most of the time we just—”

“Okay,” Taako interrupts. “This is ridiculous.”

He gets up from Kravitz’s lap, which looks a bit like a spider unfolding its tangled limbs, and sways precariously on his feet before he regains his balance. “You dipshits know what we gotta do now.”

Magnus is already perked up. “Oh, yeah.”

“Sorry,” says Angus, “what are we doing?”

Taako levels a finger at him. He’s actually pointing at something just over Angus’s shoulder, but the sentiment is there nonetheless.

“We’re givin’ you the fuckin’ birthday party of a lifetime,” he says. “And you’re—you’ll never see it coming.”

Angus does see it coming.

For one, he catches Magnus creeping toward the residential dome with a crate full of fireworks. To his credit, Magnus stays mostly poker-faced as he explains that he’s gathering explosives for one of Lup’s post-regenerative experiments. He’s so taciturn that Angus doesn’t have the heart to say anything about it.

For another, the Reclaimer suite’s availability evaporates into thin air. The Birds hem and haw and claim it’s an administrative decision, and Angus nods and politely agrees because he really is touched by the amount of effort that’s going into keeping him out of the loop. They even put up caution tape—RENOVATIONS IN PROGRESS! it says. He assumes it’s a clever means of explaining away the occasional drilling, grating, and scraping sounds he can make out behind the door.

They do the best they can to keep him away from it. Lup and Barry invite Angus to their lab for a day, which granted is a privilege Angus can’t bear to pass up, so he goes and learns an inordinate amount about something that is definitely not necromancy, especially if Kravitz asks. Davenport takes him sailing, and Angus learns how to steer a ship with confidence, even if he can’t quite keep up with the captain’s rapid fire nautical-speak. He leads his first seminar at Taako’s Amazing School of Magic. The students snicker until Angus politely but ruthlessly shoots down their proposals for new spells, and suddenly their young professor is deserving of significantly more respect.

He’s out on the lawn one day, practicing some spells of his own, when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Angus jumps and almost loses his footing on the artificial grass, and the Director—Lucretia—winces and jerks back. “Sh—sorry,” she stammers. “I knew sneaking up on you was a bad idea, and… well, funny thing, I just did it anyway.”

She looks different, he thinks, especially now that he knows how young she used to be. The bags under her eyes are more pronounced—she’s been working day and night to kickstart the newly established Bureau of Benevolence and, Angus suspects, to avoid confrontation with the Birds. Even Magnus, who’s forgiven her unconditionally, seems a little touchy when Lucretia’s name is mentioned. Angus doesn’t blame her for wanting to stay away.

“Hello, ma’am!” he says, because he hasn’t quite figured out how he feels about Lucretia’s decision, but he knows she’s a good person, and there’s no reason why he can’t spare her some common courtesy. “Can I, uh… can I help you with something?”

Lucretia balks a little at that, and her hand tightens almost imperceptibly around her new staff. It’s considerably simpler than the Bulwark Staff; made out of smooth, elegantly polished red wood with a subtle gloss. The tiny outline of a duck sits at its base—a Burnsides Original. “Oh. Um—mind if I sit?”

Angus doesn’t. She lowers herself to the grass, and he sits cross-legged beside her and looks through the transparent dome overhead as she situates herself. The sky is pale and bright, starting to fade with the gradual advance of evening, and the shadows around them grow longer as the sun sinks toward the horizon.

It’s a lonely hour of the day, he thinks.

Lucretia looks over and smiles faintly. “You know about the birthday party, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” says Angus, truthfully.

Her shoulders slump as she breathes out a small sigh of relief. “Thank the gods. I realized as soon as I said it that if you didn’t know, I’d be spoiling the surprise, and… well.” She shakes her head. “I should have known, anyway. You’re too smart to be caught off guard like that.”

“Well, ma’am, I am the World’s Greatest Detective!”

“That you are.” Lucretia’s smile returns, softer; lacking the weariness he’s so accustomed to seeing. “Anyway, I, uh… I’m not going to be there, because—”

It isn’t polite to interrupt, but Angus wants to spare her the agony of explaining. “I know,” he says.

Something like gratitude shimmers briefly in Lucretia’s eyes before she continues. “I just wanted to give you this.”

She reaches into the folds of her robe and produces a parcel, neatly wrapped in holographic paper and topped with a tiny bow. Angus takes it, and she nods encouragingly at him. “Open it.”

He does. It’s a journal—the cover is a deep, vibrant blue inlaid with white thread, which glimmers subtly when he tips it from side to side. Angus thumbs over the creamy paper and cradles the cover in his palms, and as he does so, it falls open to the first page. There, in Lucretia’s delicate calligraphy, is a message.

For your observations.Happy birthday to the smartest, bravest young man I know.

Madam Director

He looks up at her, struck dumb. “This is…”

“It’s just a little something,” says Lucretia, who looks suddenly but unmistakably shy. “I saw that little notepad of yours and I just thought you could use something a little nice—”

She breaks off when Angus hugs her. His arms, he notices, can now fit comfortably around her midriff, and the ridges of tiny ribs poke into his chest.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he whispers.

He can feel her nod against him, and slowly, hesitantly, she returns the embrace. “Of course.”

Taako rouses him bright and early with a shower of sparks over his bed. “Up and at ’em, Agnes!” he says. “Early morning magic lesson! We’ve got work to do!”

Angus is still bleary-eyed when his mentor drags him from his dormitory on the Bureau. He stops to tap one shoe against the pavement, fitting it completely over his foot, and then he’s off again, struggling to keep pace with Taako’s long strides.

“Sir,” he says, around an inadvertent yawn. “Where are we going?”

“I just said it was a magic lesson. Keep up.”

“But,” says Angus, peering under the brim of Taako’s enormous hat, “we usually practice on the quad, and we just passed the quad.”

Taako thrusts a hand at him and practically bats his inquiry away. “Less questions, more—more walking, let’s go!”

And that’s how Angus knows.

They arrive at the Reclaimer suite not five minutes later, and sure enough, the caution tape is gone. “Just need to pick up some shit,” Taako mumbles, digging around for his keys. “Won’t take a minute, and then we’ll—we’ll be off to the races, yeah?”

Something shuffles behind the door, followed by a bit of muffled whispering. Taako looks a little bit like he wants to die, but credit where credit is due—he soldiers on, undaunted. “C’mon, kid.”

The key slides into the lock, the door swings open, and an explosion of light and sound nearly knocks Angus off his feet.

“Happy birthday, Angus!” several voices shout in unison, and then the roof explodes.

A flurry of fireworks swirl around them, and Lup’s scream of delight almost drowns out the chorus of popping and fizzing. “Look at that!” she yells. “Perfect execution! Boom! Hope you were filming that, babe, ’cuz that’s never happening again!”

Barry holds up a Lucas Miller official patented Fantasy Camcorder™. “Got it!”

Angus blinks the stars out of his eyes and looks around the room. Apart from Barry, Lup, and Taako, he spots Magnus, Davenport, Carey and Killian arm-in-arm, Ren, Avi, and Merle, with a suspiciously plant-shaped gift sitting next to him. The room is draped with fantasy fairy lights and streamers, but what catches Angus’s eye isn’t the decor, or the mountain of presents in the corner of the room. It’s a cake—mounted at the center of the room, taller than he is, with a fondant rendition of a very familiar-looking hat and magnifying glass at the top.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE WORLD’S GREATEST DETECTIVE! it says.

“Oh, wow,” says Angus. “This is a complete surprise. I never expected—”

“We know you knew,” says Taako.

“Oh, thank gods.” Angus drops the facade of shock, but his smile stays put—it’s wider and brighter than the plane of magic itself.

“Thank you,” he says, and can’t quite swallow back the emotional break in his voice. “Thank you guys so much.”

“Anytime, little man,” says Lup. Her hair is slightly singed, but her grin is almost as large as his. “It was our pleasure.”

“Speaking of which,” says Merle. “It is your birthday, right?”

The room goes silent.

“Shit.”

“Fuck—”

“Watch your fucking language!”

“How could nobody check, how did we miss that—”

A late firework shoots into the air, the Birds devolve into squabbling, and Angus McDonald laughs.