#also i meant to get this posted sooner but then More Events And Occurrences happened lmao

[jae-gerbomb]

hihi it’s emergency comms time!!! (see this post if you’d like to know why it’s an emergency lol)

for now i’m only offering OC headshots, big or chibi - no slots but open indefinitely! that means it might take a while for me to get to your order but i Will get to it, so please keep that in mind (●'◡'●) in the future i may open up slots for other types of comms so look out for that if you’re interested!

for ToS, what i will or won’t draw, and contact info, please refer here ♥

--

reblogs are super appreciated, thank you so much!! 💕

[multisfabulis]

Wayfinder’s Voyage

Oceanic (Chapter 1 | 2)

Word Count: 5785

I hope everyone enjoyed reading this! I'm honestly super anxious while I'm typing this because, not only is this my first fic in the KH fandom, this is also my first ship fic so I'm feeling a lot of pressure.

I want to apologize if the characters seem OOC in this, I was mainly going off of memory and a Wiki because I didn't want to sit through an entire LP of BBS just to get a few details accurate. It already took me a month and a half to write all of this and I didn't want to take up more time.

I do have more Terraqua fics in the works, as well as a couple other KH fics in general, but those will probably be posted way later. I just wanted to test the waters with this fic and see how I do so...

So some things to note:

*Both Aqua and Terra's first scenes in this fic were made entirely for the purpose of giving them build-up while not diminishing Ven's importance to them. I was already going to be fucking with canon a lot but I also didn't want to leave Ven to the wayside so I created those scenes. You'll see Terra's in the next chapter.

*I feel the need to apologize for the second half of the second scene because that still feels like word barf, even when I know why I wrote it like that. I hope the intention behind those words is still conveyed clearly but I'll understand if it's not.

*As for the last scene, I completely misremembered the sequence of events leading up to the end. I already knew that scene was going to be changed somewhat just for the context of the ship but I think it's pretty clear which parts I changed on purpose and which parts I was winging it. It's been years since I last watched that scene, it was super late into the night, this was my third rewrite, and I felt satisfied with my work before realizing I fucked up and decided to go along with it.

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     Today started out like any other normal day. Aqua woke up, did her morning regimen, and set off for the great hall to begin her studies. She and Terra, her friend/rival, were to train under the watchful eye of their master Eraqus in the hopes of coming one step closer to fulfilling their lifelong dream. They would one day surpass the rank of apprentice and become Keyblade Masters in their own right, something she wished would arrive sooner rather than later.

     Then came time for their daily duel. They would often spar with each other as a way of proving their capabilities in battle, seeing what areas they could use improvement in, and showing off the techniques they had learned from past fights. This seemed to be no different from their previous clashes.

     She was on the defense, blocking and deflecting each blow Terra threw her way with relative ease. He managed to find an opening she didn’t account for and all but jumped on the opportunity. He charged in, his Keyblade held high, and she only had a split second to raise hers in an attempt to guard against it. Yet, whether it was due to a miscalculation on his part or her just reacting too slow, he ended up hitting her unarmored wrist. She quickly backed away, letting out a cry of pain as both Keyblades were dismissed in a flash of light. Eraqus rushed over to check if she was okay.

     Terra was beside her with remorseful apologies spilling out of his mouth but she barely paid them any heed. Her eyes were focused on something much more alarming, something she knew Eraqus saw too. Emanating from Terra’s hand was an aura of Darkness, which vanished as soon as he noticed it. He tried to defend himself to Eraqus but the damage was already done.

     Their master had an almost zealous hatred for Darkness, believing it’d bring nothing but destruction in its wake, and sought to rid the Land of Departure of any, even if some laid dormant in his apprentices’ hearts. This was a constant problem for Terra, who always seemed to harbor enough to fall back on, be it consciously or not. For it to flare up during training, that drew Eraqus’s ire.

     It was hard not to feel sorry for Terra as he was being harshly scolded. It wasn’t like he was trying to use Darkness, at least not intentionally. She knew that it was only an accident but it wouldn’t help stop the shame he undoubtedly felt. He’ll probably curse himself for being too weak and letting Darkness in yet again once he thought no one was around, an occurrence she’s been privy to more than she had any right to be. She needed to talk with him once she had her wrist taken care of.

     With a hand on her back, Eraqus began leading her out of the great hall. She looked over her shoulder to catch one last glimpse of Terra before leaving. He hung his head in shame as he clenched his fists in what she believed to be anger. It was just as she expected. She turned her head back to face forward, hoping he wouldn’t blame himself more than he already was.

     They made their way over to the infirmary, where Eraqus gently took hold of her wrist to examine it. She could see now how bruised and swollen it was from the impact as she winced with every slight movement. He was able to determine she had a sprained wrist, which she regarded as a miracle. With the amount of force Terra had in his swing, she was thankful it didn’t result in a break. She was to keep it wrapped and iced for a couple days till it healed, something she had no problem with.

     After it was bandaged, she was told to take it easy until then. She asked Eraqus about Terra and he said he’d have a talk with him once enough time had passed for things to settle down. There was an undercurrent of regret in his voice, made even clearer by the expression on his face. Their master may be strict but he still cared for them, similar in the way a father would for his children. This gave her some hope in that he realized what happened was an accident and he’d forgive Terra. Time would only tell.

     She spent the rest of the day in the library. She figured she’d get some studying done if she couldn’t practice with her Keyblade for the next few days. Try as she might, though, she could barely focus on the words she was reading and that was if she didn’t reread the sentence to understand it. Her mind kept wandering to Terra, whether he was okay or not, and what he was doing right now. Worry gnawed at her heart until she couldn’t take it anymore. The sun was beginning to cast orange and violet hues across the sky when she decided and rushed out to find him.

     He wasn’t in the great hall or his room when she looked in. Searching all around the building yielded no results, either. She wondered where he could be, her anxiety growing as she saw night quickly approaching. He had to still be in the Land of Departure and the only place she hadn’t checked yet was the mountain. She ran out to the Forecourt and then beyond its boundary.

     Stars were twinkling into existence by the time she reached the winding path leading up to the mountain. If it weren’t for the lights set alongside the dirt road, she would’ve been stumbling about blindly in the dark. It was when she arrived at the overlook just before the summit she found him.

     His back faced her as she saw that he was sitting on the edge of the cliff. Taking a few steps closer revealed him to be looking down below the mountain with an indiscernible expression. It was troubling to see him like this. What happened earlier today had to be weighing heavily on his mind.

     Tentatively walking forward, she called out, “Terra?”

     He stiffened and quickly turned around to face her, asking a barrage of questions like, “Aqua, are you okay? How’s your wrist? Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it?”

     “No, no, it’s all right, see?” she replied, showing him her bandaged wrist. “Master said it was only a sprain and that it should be okay in a couple days as long as I took it easy.”

     He let out a sigh of relief, no doubt feeling some of the guilt be lifted off his shoulders. “That’s good. I don’t think I would’ve forgiven myself if I managed to break your wrist.”

     “Well, you didn’t, so don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?”

     Silence fell between them. She noticed him staring at her wrist with clouded eyes, despite her assurances of being fine. Before she could think of a way to broach the issue at hand, he spoke up.

     “Aqua, I’m…I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you, it was an accident, and---”

     “I know, I know! You don’t need to apologize, I know you would never try and hurt me,” she interjected, trying to comfort him. “I’m more worried about you and how you’re doing after Master had those…words with you.”

     He averted his eyes from her. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Eraqus scold Terra like he had before and those always left him feeling horrible with himself. She was used to being the one to get him back to normal but something told her this wouldn’t be as easy as previous times.

     Turning away from her, he said, “I deserved it. Master was right, I could’ve seriously hurt you.”

     “But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” she replied.

     “I was wielding Darkness, Aqua!” he exclaimed, taking her aback. He ran a hand through his hair before continuing on, “I thought it was gone. I thought I had it under control but I guess I don’t. Maybe it never left.”

     “Terra…” She walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. You’ve gotten rid of Darkness before, you can do it again. You just have to---”

     He brushed her off. “What if I don’t? What if I’ll always have Darkness inside me?”

     “What are you saying?”

     “Maybe I’m not meant to be a Keyblade Master. Maybe I’m just destined to fall into darkness. It’s my fate to lose my heart and become a Heartless.”

     “That won’t happen, Terra. You’re strong enough to resist it and---”

     “What if I’m not, Aqua? How else would you explain why I keep having Darkness come out of me? You can’t, can you?”

     To her horror, he was right. There was no way she could explain why Darkness lingered inside him, even with the numerous attempts to rid himself of it. It wasn’t because he had a weak heart, that much she was certain. So what was the connection between the two? Was Terra right in that he was destined to fall into darkness, either by losing his heart or some other means?

     The thought rocked her to the core. She didn’t want to believe his fate was to be lost in a hellish abyss until he was put out of his misery. He was her dear friend and he deserved so much more than being reduced to a lowly Heartless. She refused to accept it, which was why she decided to do something about it.

     “You won’t fall into darkness, Terra,” she affirmed, stepping around him to meet his gaze. “I know it.”

     “How? How can you be so sure?” he asked.

     “Because I won’t let you.” She took hold of his hand in a gentle yet firm grip. “I promise I won’t let you fall into darkness.”

     He seemed genuinely shocked by her words. She meant what she said and she planned on upholding her promise. It may be hard and it may even be treacherous at times but it’d all be worth it if he remained in the light.

     “And, if you do fall, I promise to always guide you back home,” she added, giving his hand a squeeze.

     “...You have that much faith in me, huh?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

     “Why wouldn’t I?” She cupped his cheek. “You’re my friend, Terra, and I know you’re strong enough to resist its temptation. I’ll just be there to remind you every so often.”

     He said nothing, instead deciding to pull her into a hug. She was surprised by this, seeing as how he wasn’t a very affectionate person, at least in the physical aspect. She was about ready to question him on why he was doing this when she heard him whisper in her ear:

     “Thank you, Aqua, for believing in me.”

     Her heart fluttered in her chest from the sincerity in his voice. She could sometimes be slow on the uptake but this had to be a new record. It was only now she realized just how much her vow must’ve touched him and how badly he must’ve been feeling before she showed up. She was glad to have cheered him up some. Thus, she returned the hug and answered,

     “You’re welcome.”

     Terra wasn’t going to fall into darkness, not if she had anything to say about it. He won’t be led astray. She’d be his anchor to the realm of light. A promise is a promise, which she wholly planned to keep.

     Aqua breathed in deep and touched the tip of her paintbrush on the small piece of glass sitting in front of her. Drawing it upwards left the top half in a pretty shade of cyan blue. She continued to paint with delicate and meticulous strokes until she was satisfied with her work. The bottom half was then covered in a dark blue, which almost matched the ocean she imagined in her mind. Once the piece of glass was completely painted over, she gingerly picked it up and set it aside to dry. One down, four more to go before she moved on to the next phase.

     She was in the process of making her Wayfinder. She already crafted two others that happened to be sitting off to the side, one in amber and one in green. She hoped to give them to Terra and Ven soon once she was done creating hers. Seeing as how she and Terra were meant to have their Mark of Mastery exam in the near future, they were meant to be good luck charms and Ven was getting one simply because it’d be unfair if he was left out. They also had another purpose to them, something she thought was rather poignant and was the main reason she wanted them.

     Wayfinders were said to be designed after star-shaped fruit called Paopu, which were also said to tie friends together. If they carried these on them, nothing would drive them apart. They’d even help find one’s way back to them if they were ever lost. It may be silly of her to believe in this but it struck a chord within her when she first heard it and, in some ways, she wanted it to be true.

     The question of what would happen after she and Terra aced their exam had weighed heavily on her mind for some time. Eraqus had told them they could either travel beyond the Land of Departure and expand their horizons or succeed him and protect their world from Darkness. They hadn’t decided yet but she wondered what the aftermath of her choice would be. Would she choose to leave or stay? Whatever it may be, it meant Terra would have to contend with the other. Maybe the reason this was troubling her so much was because a part of her deep down was afraid of losing the two people she considered to be her best friends.

     She knew she had nothing to be scared of yet she worried all the same. It wasn’t like the bonds she shared with Ven and Terra were so weak, they’d break upon setting foot outside their home. Their strength would remain steadfast, even if the three of them were far apart from each other. She just needed to remind herself of that whenever she was lost in her thoughts.

     The last glass piece was painted and she put it beside the others to dry. With that out of the way, the next thing to do would be setting the five glass pieces into place and soldering them to the frame so they wouldn’t fall out when she held the Wayfinder facing up. It was too late to do it tonight but she would get straight to it after her training tomorrow.

     She glanced over to where the other two Wayfinders were sitting. She stood up from her desk, reached her hand out to grab them, and sat back down. They shone brilliantly under the golden light pouring in from her window. A lot’s happened over the last few years.

     She never thought Eraqus would take in another apprentice but it was at the behest of an old friend so that’s how Ventus came into the picture. Fragile was the best word to describe him when they first met, like he could collapse at any moment. It fit him even more when he actually did from Terra’s bombardment of questions, falling into an almost come-like state for several days. Her skepticism as to whether he was capable of becoming a Keyblade Master only grew when Eraqus said he was amnesiac and that was why he fainted. How could someone like him become Master when he was so weak, for lack of a better term?

     Yet he managed to prove her wrong. The more time he spent with the two of them, the stronger he got, to the point he was able to keep up with them in battle. He wasn’t as powerful as Terra or as magically gifted as her but he made up for it with swiftness and sheer tenacity. The only reason he wasn’t taking the Mark of Mastery exam along with them was because of his age, though she believed it was also due to him needing to outgrow some things, like his rebellious streak for example. He’d be a great Keyblade Master one day, she was sure of it.

     Terra’s changed so much over the years. He was no longer a child struggling to keep his head above water as he flailed his Keyblade about. He’s grown into a strong and capable man she was proud to call her friend and rival. He’d be her fellow Master in due time as well and then they’d stand together to protect both theirs and many other worlds from Heartless someday. At least, that’s what she envisioned before things somehow became different between them.

     She couldn’t quite explain what changed between her and Terra. It wasn’t like the way they interacted with each other was different from normal. They still met up every day to talk and train so that couldn’t be it. The only thing she noticed was…well, things she had never really noticed from him before. Not that they were never there but they were only starting to make themselves known to her.

     Before Ven, she’d only seen three sides to Terra. The dutiful pupil to their master, the reliable confidant to her, and the introspective self-doubter when he thought he was alone. It was only after Ven entered their circle she saw the kind and protective side of him, almost like he was an older brother to him. She always knew those qualities existed within him but it was different seeing them in action to someone other than her. It’s only now she’s really acknowledged them.

     He was still her friend but there was a deeper meaning now. Her feelings towards him were different than her feelings towards Ven and maybe that was because she’s known him practically all her life as opposed to the four years for Ven. Maybe all this was was her growing up and becoming an adult, which meant changing feelings and realizing that things were going to be different for her now, whether she liked it or not. Throw in the anxiety of potentially drifting away from him and she was left with a jumbled up mess of complications she struggled to put a label on.

     All this was doing was giving her a headache. She should be focusing on the road ahead instead of thinking herself into a corner and letting her mind run wild. She’s so close to accomplishing her dream and she couldn’t risk anything jeopardizing it. Whatever answers she wanted, she’d find them after becoming Master.

     She looked down at the Wayfinders still held in her hands and pressed them close to her chest. She let out a heavy sigh as she tried to calm herself. Different was new but it didn’t have to be bad. Change was a part of everyone’s lives and she and Terra were no exceptions.

     Things may be different between them but it didn’t mean they were bad. It could mean they were good and she just couldn’t see how yet. As long as they were together, nothing truly bad would happen. That’s what she hoped.

     Aqua sat at the end of the dock, watching the sun set over the horizon. A warm, pleasant breeze was blowing through, carrying with it the strong scent of salt. She could hear the ocean’s waves rolling along the sandy shore and leaves from the trees behind her rustling. This was everything she imagined a beach to be like. The only things missing from it were Terra and Ven.

     The Destiny Islands was what this world was called. She only stopped by with the intention of taking a short rest but it was after reality began to sink in she had to give herself something more than that. She needed a moment where she could think clearly, decompress, and just breathe. She needed this before going back out there and starting the whole process over again. That’s where she was now.

     Where did it all go wrong? She finally managed to achieve her dream of becoming a Keyblade Master but it felt like a hollow victory when it turned out Terra failed the exam on account of his Darkness flaring up again. Then she was asked by their master to keep an eye on him in case he strayed too close to darkness, which she didn’t agree with but knew it was out of concern for him so she followed. It was through that she learned of the questionable acts seemingly committed by Terra and it caused her to doubt him and his resolve. When she met up with him and Ven at Radiant Garden and she revealed the truth of her being there, their trust in her was shattered.

     Then she found out Ven was being hunted down by a masked boy, who had ties to Master Xehanort. He’d been pulling strings behind the scenes and he was dragging Terra along for the ride. An encounter with the masked boy in Neverland left her exhausted yet she still trudged on before arriving here. All she was trying to do was make things right so why did it turn out like this?

     Maybe she wasn’t cut out to be a Master. They were supposed to keep the balance between light and dark, protect the worlds from malevolent forces. If she couldn’t even protect her best friends, the two people she treasured above all else, then what good was she? Eraqus was wrong in making her a Master, much less his successor. She never should have become one.

     She took out her Wayfinder and just held it. The orange hue of the sunset washed away the once vibrant blue into something dull and dark. Her heart grew heavier the longer she looked at it, running her thumb over the token in the center. Nothing would drive them apart, huh?

     It was never that she thought of Ven as weak or doubted his capabilities. It was never, ever that. She just wanted him to be safe, to be unharmed because she knew she couldn’t always be there to save him. There was a part of her that still viewed him as the fragile boy she first met who fell comatose from one too many questions. Sure, he’s grown much stronger since then, but she felt the need to protect him regardless. He was her dear friend and she wouldn’t know how to live with herself if he got hurt and she wasn’t there to help him. She’d rather have him hate her for being overbearing than risk losing him because she wasn’t cautious.

     She wished she could express how sorry she was to Terra. She vouched for him to Eraqus, swearing he was strong enough to resist the dark temptations, yet hearsay was all it took for her to lose faith in him. Xehanort’s machinations framed him as someone he wasn’t and she fell for it so easily. It honestly pissed her off that he was manipulating and taking advantage of Terra and his trusting nature. While he wasn’t exactly innocent in this, it was clear as to who the real mastermind was. She wanted so badly to apologize to him, to tell him she should never have doubted him.

     Her grip on the Wayfinder tightened as she felt her eyes beginning to burn. Did they have theirs still, she wondered. She wanted to believe they did but was it childishly naive of her to cling to that narrow hope?

     She was a horrible friend to them. She caused one to lose faith in her and she may as well have betrayed the other. She may have pushed Ven too far away for him to come back and drove Terra further into the darkness. She wouldn’t fault them for wanting nothing to do with her anymore. She wouldn’t, either, if the roles were reversed. Were their bonds now severed?

     No, they couldn’t be. The magic she placed on each of their Wayfinders was still active and she could still feel Terra and Ven’s hearts through hers. That had to be her silver lining in this. Even if the cord connecting the three of them together frayed till it was only a thread, that thread was unbreakable.

     She needed to protect them. She couldn’t let Xehanort and that masked boy do whatever they wanted with them. They wouldn’t hesitate to save her if she were in the same position so she shouldn’t, either. They were precious to her, she’d do anything, even give her life, if it meant they’d be safe.

     She stood up from the dock, Wayfinder still in her hand, and looked up at the now starry sky. She didn’t know where they were but she didn’t need to. Her heart was going to be her guiding key.

     They needn’t worry much longer. She was going to find them and the three of them were going to stop whatever Xehanort had planned. Then they would share one more night under the stars, like they had all that time ago.

     May they find a way to each other once more.

     Aqua watched on in horror as the man in front of her stabbed his Keyblade into his chest. She wanted to cry out his name but she couldn’t find the strength within her to do so, having thoroughly exhausted herself from their fight earlier. His body went slack, his Keyblade vanishing into thin air, as a portal of swirling darkness opened beneath him. He fell back and, quickly realizing where it led to, she dove in after him.

     She had to save him. It may not have been Terra, not completely, but his heart was still in his body, she just knew it. Why else would he have let her go when he was so close to finishing her off? She couldn’t leave him to wander in the Realm of Darkness for all eternity. Even if it meant bringing Xehanort back, she’d never forgive herself for doing that to him if he was still in there. She made him a promise and she was damn well going to keep it.

     The first thing she noticed was how cold it was. It wasn’t freezing but it was still too chilly for her liking, evident from her shivering. She felt like she was stuck in an empty black void as she searched around for any sign of Terra. She was eventually able to find a dim light just a few meters below her, a light she recognized as his. Summoning her Keyblade, she changed its form to that of her Glider and raced towards the light, not once taking her eyes off it.

     It didn’t take long to reach him. The light grew dimmer and dimmer the closer she got before dimming completely upon seeing him. He looked to be just sleeping, even when he was plummeting straight down to what she considered to be hell. She grabbed onto his arm and struggled to lift him onto her Glider, only managing to accomplish that feat by sheer force of will. Giving him a quick once-over revealed no visible wounds and he seemed to be breathing normally. Relieved that he was physically all right, she turned the Glider around and began heading back up.

     She had him and he was going to be okay. They would be back in Radiant Garden soon and she was going to fix him. She and whoever else could help her were going to find a way to get Xehanort’s heart out of him. Then she and him would go home and wake Ven up, like she said they would. They’d be together again. Their master may be gone now but they’d have each other to lean on and support. The hope of them being reunited again was the only thing keeping her going at this point. After everything that’s happened, she needed this to come true. She almost wanted to pray to whatever power there be to grant her wish, to give her this.

     Well, a deity or some other higher being there was heard her and sneered. Her heart dropped once she saw the portal they came in from starting to close. They were still so far away and it was shrinking with each passing second. It would be gone by the time they reached it, leaving them stuck in the Realm of Darkness with no way out. She looked over at Terra’s unconscious form and, knowing what had to be done, made her choice without any hesitation.

     That was when it hit her. She finally found her answer and she wanted to scold herself for taking so long to realize it. She finally knew what Terra was to her and it was so easy, so simple to understand that there was really no excuse. He wasn’t just a friend to her, he was more than that, he deepened beyond that. It was only natural, in some ways, for her to have fallen for him.

     She loved him. She loved everything about him, from his ability to want to see the good in people to his devotion to her and Ven. She can scarcely remember a life where he wasn’t a part of it nor did she want such a life. He was irreplaceable, someone she confided in, a man she could talk to about anything without fear of judgment. He was her rock, her dearly beloved. She loved him, which was why she was able to decide on her fate with little regret.

     She was going to take his place. Her promise came out of a love different from what it was now but she planned to uphold it all the same. Her love for Terra was stronger than her hatred of the man possessing him and she couldn’t bear to leave him behind to die in a hellish wasteland. It only hurt to know she wouldn’t be there to help guide him back home, to her and Ven.

     She disembarked from her Glider and went around to the side. Terra appeared to be holding onto the handles somewhat, which seemed to be the only reason he was staying on it instead of falling. She brushed the back of her hand against his cheek before resting it on his, giving it a gentle squeeze. She was going to miss him when she was gone but this was for the best.

     “We’ll meet again someday.” She squeezed his hand again. “Even if so much time has passed, we’ll meet again.” She was giving both him and herself false hope. “I’ll always be with you, okay?” She didn’t believe she would find a way out. “Goodbye, Terra.”

     Then she let go and began falling. She didn’t take her eyes off him once as she fell, even when it became too dark for her to see him clearly. She wanted him to be the last thing she saw if she were to possibly die in the next few moments. She only wished she could’ve amended things between her, Terra, and Ven before their grand battle in the Keyblade Graveyard but she was resigned to contend with this. She’d be okay with taking that regret to her grave.

     Tears rolled down her cheeks but she smiled through them. She saved him from a fate of wandering the dark realm alone. She hoped Terra would win out in his fight against Xehanort and reclaim his body as the image of him finally disappeared from her sight. Maybe, just maybe, they’d meet again in the next life.

     She closed her eyes as she let the darkness overtake her. It was then she heard herself say those three little words that carried with them so much meaning. Whether she said them aloud or she only imagined she did, it didn’t matter. All she wanted was for those words to reach Terra’s heart, to let him know why she did what she did. That was her last thought before succumbing to the cold.

     “I love you.”

[general-mahamatra]

Spalbert being domestic? Love your writing!

Spalbert, eh? fuck yeah dude

i’ll admit... i went a bit overboard and its more like “cooking with albert with some added heated making out” but what can i say? i couldnt stop myself

Pairing: Spalbert

Genre: Slice of Life

TW: Suggestive/Mildly Graphic NSFW

Wordcount: 3862

Note: I went overboard please send help. Also, sorry I can’t shorten it! Tumblr hates to work with me when I make these posts and edit them

Cooking dinner was not a common occurrence in the small Conlon-DaSilva apartment. It was rarer than the sight of them doing anything romantic in general.

But their one year anniversary was coming up and Albert wanted to do something special.

He stood in the doorway of the tiny kitchen, hands clasped together just under his chin. He had no idea what he was doing. Despite his years of friendship with Racer, all of the knowledge Albert had gained fell through. The guy barely retained information; he was lucky if he could remember what happened the day before. Hell, he didn’t even know what he had for breakfast that morning.

...did he eat breakfast?

Albert wasn’t too sure about that. His mind drew a blank the harder he thought, only resulting in a minor headache to begin his descent into misery. This wasn’t going to go well, was it?

His eyes slipped shut as he took a deep breath. Slowly, he exhaled, allowing the air to seep out at its own pace.

He can do this. He has the ingredients. He just needs to be careful with instructions and find the recipe Race had given him months ago. It shouldn’t be too hard.

Opening his eyes, Albert let his hands fall to his sides. 

Spot’s not gonna be home for another hour at least. That left plenty of time for Albert to figure out how he was going to do this. After all, last he checked pasta doesn’t take that long to make. Not even the recipe he swore Race sent him. 

Stepping into the kitchen, the ginger was slow. Taking his time to cross the wooden floor. He winced at the cold that rushed against his bare feet. How the hell could wood be so much colder than carpet?

Wait, that’s a stupid question. One of the stupidest Albert ever wondered.

Of course the wood is gonna be colder, it’s not made to be warm.

He padded across the kitchen, eventually making his way to the barely-cleared counter. Neither of them were ones to cook. While there were plenty of different things in the fridge and their cabinets, the most they did at home was make sandwiches. Hell, Albert’s rarely seen Spot eat anything but a sandwich of some sort at home.

Albeit, they would go out a lot. It was the perks of Spot being a personal trainer and Albert working as an electrician… in training. They made enough to support themselves and go out and spend some money for fun. Not a lot, of course. Spot was much more minimalist than Albert, leading to them barely having a stocked fridge.

Albert didn’t mind that. Although he grew up with a decent amount of food in the house, it was nice not to worry about stuff constantly going bad. Christ, they had an entire empty shelf in the door just because they barely had anything.

Except it made it hard for Albert to hide the stuff he bought.

Thankfully, Spot never commented on it.

Not that Albert cared too much. He would’ve brushed it off as wanting to try something new sometime and that’s that. Not like they started dating a year ago and he wanted to make something nice for the guy. Just a simple experiment.

He leaned against the counter with a small huff. If he was going to get anything done, he would have to find the recipe. And by God would that take a long time.

Pulling his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants, Albert went ahead and pulled up his text messages with Race. It was nice how they never actually texted “normally”. Majority of their conversations were on Snapchat. That meant whenever they sent each other important things, it wouldn’t be lost to chat history.

Of course, that didn’t mean they never sent each other things via text. Even now, it was clear the link Race had sent was drowned out by way too many messages.

It took ages for Albert to scroll through everything. How much time had actually passed was beyond him. It was likely it was maybe a minute or two but to him it felt like way  more. It was stupid, so stupid. Why didn’t he just click the link to save it like a normal person?

Because he’s an idiot, that’s why.

Finally. Finally, he found it. 

He clicked on the link, selecting the option to force it to pull up in Safari.

He’s not gonna lose it and be forced to scroll again. He refused.

By the time he had the link fully pulled up, Albert turned around, setting the phone on the counter. His eyes scanned over the words, a small frown setting into his features. This was far too much work just to make a simple thing of noodles.

Work that would be worth it in the end.

But dear God, there was so much stupid writing in the beginning. There were some helpful tips, yeah, but why did there have to be so much extra stuff? He’ll never understand the world of cooking.

With the page pulled up, Albert moved to the fridge and cabinet respectful, grabbing what he needed to make it. Noodles, vegetables, tomato paste… far too much shit.

Why did he follow through on actually making the sauce from scratch?

This was going to be a shit show.

A shit show that better be worth it in the end.

Albert tapped the screen when he realized it went dark so he could continue reading. Approximately 45 minute cook time, 6 servings. Yeah, that should be fine. They both ate a decent amount and it could be used for leftovers.

Though…

His eyes trailed over to where he had some ground beef thawing from earlier.

He wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to add any meat to it. As much as he knew Spot liked red meats, Albert himself was pescatarian. Which meant he only ate fish. Sometimes he would cave and begrudgingly eat hotdogs or cheeseburgers, but that was only if they were stuck at some sort of arena event.

But he didn’t wanna take that away from Spot. After all, he was prepping the entire meal for him. It shouldn’t matter what Albert liked. He could deal with some beef in the pasta for the sake of his boyfriend.

So, Albert continued on as normal.

He scrolled past the ingredients, already knowing he had everything. The sooner he started the sauce, the better off he would be.

What sucked was the fact he would have to begin immediately with the meat.

Pulling out a decent-sized pot, Albert set it on the stove. It felt a bit weird having to cook meat in it, but he was just following the recipe. It was just going to be awkward for a while.

Taking the bottle of olive oil, he measured out the allotted amount and dumped it into the pot. Then, with a swift motion, he turned the burner on to the designated heat. 

When he went to grab the thawed meat, he paused.

This was the moment where it was all or nothing. As soon as he started cooking the meat, he would have to deal with it for the rest of the meal.

He grabbed a steak knife out of the holder before picking up the package. With a simple swipe, the plastic was sliced open. Setting the blade down, Albert pulled the packaging open.

There was no turning back now.

He carefully dumped the ground beef into the pot before setting the empty plastic to the side. Grabbing a wooden spoon, he looked back at his phone. Upon reading ahead, he was so glad he precut everything. He would’ve dropped dead right then and there if he had to chop anything now.

As the eight minutes passed by, Albert continued to follow the instructions. Soon enough, he was adding the onions before letting it simmer.

Idly, he stirred the pot from time to time. His eyes were mostly glued on his phone, scrolling through TikTok like his life depended on it. It was a nice way to pass the time.

By the time Albert was on the final step with the sauce, he had calmed down a bit. Not that he was too antsy, he was just… nervous. He wanted this to be perfect. The two weren’t able to go out anywhere fancy since apparently a lot of people have anniversaries in June. Either that or people were a bit too eager to go out to eat during the sixth month of the year.

After adding in the tomato paste and garlic and a select few other ingredients, he made care to stir it for almost exactly a minute. It wasn’t too hard given the next video he watched was just barely 50 seconds, so there was a plus there.

Jumping back to the recipe, Albert scanned over the next step before setting the phone down, screen up. He needed to add water, some crushed tomatoes, salt, and a “generous pinch” of pepper. Then all he had to do was stir it and let it simmer on low for 25 minutes. Not too bad.

With a quick glance ahead, Albert took note he had to start cooking the pasta itself 10 minutes in. Alright.

He followed the instructions, scraping the meat and veggies off the bottom of the pan before officially letting it simmer. With a quick set of the timer, Albert turned his attention back to his phone. 

Opening YouTube, it didn’t take long for him to find a 7 minute video.

He stood there, hunched over the counter with his elbows propped up on the stone. Occasionally, he would move back to the stove to stir the sauce. Of course, he didn’t pay too much attention.

When the video finished, Albert jumped into action with the pasta. There was 17 minutes left on the timer, meaning he had a couple minutes to spare. Maybe then he could figure out how much salt he’s supposed to put in the damn water.

In the end it wasn’t too hard to gauge. He just dumped a decent amount into the half-full pot and set it on the burner diagonal from the sauce. Turning the handle away from the main walkway, Albert turned the dial to let it boil and stepped back. It wasn’t going too bad.

Turning back to the sauce, he picked up the wooden spoon and stood there for a moment. The website had mentioned that he should taste it from time to time, make sure it was properly seasoned.

But the stuff was hot, he didn’t wanna burn his tongue.

He pursed his lips, staring at the red sauce as it continued to simmer on the hot burner. A small taste wouldn’t hurt. After all, he can just blow on it and be on with his life. He just didn’t want to have to suffer through dinner with a burnt tongue, unable to taste what he made.

Albert dipped the spoon into the pot, scooping a small amount of the pasta sauce.

With one simple taste, he was surprised to find it didn’t taste half bad. He did pretty good for his first try.

Now that he was content, Albert went back to watching YouTube. 

It wasn’t long before the water was boiling and he had to grab the noodles. 

With the box in his hands, Albert read over the directions on the side to get a good grasp of how long to cook the pasta. The label stated 10 minutes, which meant he would have to start testing it at about 8 minutes. That wouldn’t be too hard.

He opened the box and dumped the noodles out. It felt oddly surreal seeing the long noodles stick straight out of the pan. As much as he had seen spaghetti cooked in videos and on TV, he had never actually witnessed the process.

It was at that moment anxiety decided to hit him like a truck. Full on, straight into his chest. It was almost like a physical force had knocked him into an altered form of reality. Suddenly he was hyperaware; his clothing rubbed wrong against his skin, he heard every noise in the apartment along with the sizzling of the sauce and faint blabbering of the video. Everything was shoved full force into his senses.

Albert stood there, box in hand as he tried to process it all. 

His heart pounded against his ribs, ramming against it as if it were trying to break free. At the same time, a shiver coursed through his body, adding to the bizarre sense of consciousness.

His racing heart was what made his thoughts move a mile a minute.

What if Spot doesn’t like it? What if he came home with some fast food takeout like a normal day and it was all in vain? Does Spot even like pasta?

Fuck, is Spot allergic to pasta?

God. Shit. Fuck. He forgot to check what Spot was allergic to. What if he grabbed something and used it and Spot broke out into hives? God, that would be the worst anniversary ever.

A small whimper made itself heard and Albert was thankful he was alone. It was a pathetic sound, one of worry and panic that he never allowed the public to hear.

He finally set the box down, his vision blurred and unfocused as he stared at the cooking food. It’s going to be fine, it’s all going to be fine. Spot’s his boyfriend, he would know if the guy was allergic to something. 

But… What if Spot lied? Or… What if he doesn’t like the meal?

He didn’t put it beyond Spot -- or anyone for that matter -- to pretend to like the food and just order something later in the night. Anyone with a sense of decency would wait until Albert had long since fallen asleep.

Albert closed his eyes, taking a shaky deep breath through his nose.

Everything’s gonna be alright.

Nothing will go wrong.

Albert peeked one of his eyes open to glance down at the cabinet next to him. Quickly, as if he were worried about embarrassing himself, he knocked on the wood.

By the time he managed to get himself to settle down, the noodles were nearly done. It was a bit odd knowing he had spaced off for almost 10 minutes, but it happened nonetheless. He just hoped the stuff didn’t need to be stirred too much.

Following the rest of the cooking instructions, he ended off with strained pasta being tossed into the pot of sauce. With a quick stir, Albert stepped back and sighed. It was basically done. He did it.

A small smile tugged at his lips only to be whisked away.

There’s still so many possibilities of him fucking this over.

He could spill the sauce, overcook it as he waited for Spot, forget to dress up nice… but he had plenty of time. There was at least 15 minutes before his boyfriend was home.

Albert rested his arms on the counter, allowing his head to lul forward as he shut his eyes. It was almost 7 P.M., it was barely evening. At this point on a normal day he would’ve been wide awake playing video games or watching videos. Hell, maybe he’d even be harassing Spot, who knows.

But this isn’t a normal day, it’s their fucking anniversary. And now he’s exhausted for no fucking reason.

How much worse could it possibly get?

He pressed one of his hands to his face, letting out an exasperated sigh. He stayed like that for a while, ignoring the blaring time on the stove. He knew better than to assume he’d be in a position like that for much longer than a minute.

The light click of the front door closing went unnoticed by Albert. Despite how aware he had been earlier, suddenly he was ignorant. Everything that went on around him was ignored, purposely or not. His fatigue was enough to keep him bent over the counter, his eyes shut and head resting in his hand for support.

He didn’t notice the rustling just outside the kitchen or the heavy footsteps that followed. Hell, he barely even realized there was a presence nearby before a strong pair of hands settled on his hips.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise?”

Albert practically jumped out of his skin. He tried to spin around but only ended up knocking his hand against the knife holder. He hissed out a few colorful words and in the end, didn’t turn.

His boyfriend’s arms slid around his waist, allowing the familiar feeling of the shorter man being pressed against him be made known.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you in the kitchen,” Spot teased, resting his chin on Albert’s shoulder.

The simple, solid touch instantly made Albert relax. Tension he didn’t even realize he still had faded away and left him loose against his boyfriend. It was nice.

“Well, jokes on you, here I am,” Albert said back, smiling slightly. He tilted his head a bit as he tried to look at the brunette. 

A small hum came from the shorter man, the vibrations sending a shiver down Albert’s spine. “And what brings you here?”

That was when the panic returned.

Every inch of Albert tensed up, his attention darting over to the spaghetti. Fuck, he didn’t even prepare it. It’s still in the pot and he hasn’t even gotten dressed.

As if he noticed the tension, Spot gently caressed his thumb along Albert’s side. “Hey, it’s fine. You good?”

Albert tore his gaze away from the food and forced a small smile. “Yeah, I am.” Once again, he managed to relax. The feeling of Spot trying to offer physical comfort being enough to loosen him up. Though, it didn’t necessarily take off the edge.

What did was the sly movement of hands reaching up his shirt, running along his skin until they were on his lower back. The feeling of calloused fingers barely grazing his body made his breath hitch. He bit his lower lip, forcing himself to focus on that instead.

It wasn’t a surprise that Spot knew just what to do to get Albert’s mind off of things. The way the brunette moved along his body was distracting enough. It was even more to have the man reach up higher, almost as if he were exploring.

Except, is it even exploring if it’s already known?

“If you say so,” Spot said with yet another hum before leaning in.

A soft kiss pressed against Albert’s neck, causing his eyes to flutter shut. It was a pleasant feeling, one that spread warmth throughout his body. The warmth gradually grew fiery as the kissing continued. They were rougher than the initial one, eliciting a slight reaction from the ginger.

He tilted his head, hoping to allow the man more access. Despite it being from behind, Albert was mildly surprised the reach the brunette had.

It was always difficult for him to think about how exactly any of this was possible.

The rough hands that still held his body slid down to his hips and held tight. For a short moment, Spot pulled away just enough to spin the taller boy around. The movement was enough for Albert to glance down, offering a smile.

Said smile was immediately cut off by lips crashing into his. Once again, Spot was pressed up against him, pinning him against the counter.

Instead of returning to his upper body, Spot slipped his fingers just below the waistband. His thumbs pressed low, just enough to get Albert to try and squirm. It wasn’t unwelcome. In fact, it was far from it. It just happened to be foreign yet again.

It was hard to focus on the chapped lips that moved so perfectly against his own, not with the small pokes and prods from Spot. There was so much going on at once that Albert didn’t know what to pay attention to or when.

Spot’s kisses trailed away from Albert’s mouth, pressing against his jaw as he slowly made his way to the ginger’s neck. Each one made him shiver, sending a shock down to the rest of his body.

Without the constant action, Albert was free to let his lips part as he basked in the moment. It all felt so wonderful, so… nice. He didn’t want it to end and he wanted more.

It was the first nip along his throat that extracted a quiet squeak from the taller man. The rush that ran through him at that very second nearly made Albert go limp. He hadn’t realized how deprived he’d been until then. And by God, was it amazing.

Spot’s hands dipped further, causing Albert to let out one of the most pathetic noises he’d ever made.

It was almost hilarious considering just how tough he likes to make himself seem. All stoic and angry and yet Spot always managed to do the perfect thing.

He could practically feel the smirk against his neck, making his cheeks heat up way more than necessary. Of course Spot would be cocky about it.

Any thought Albert had was cut off by the abrupt feeling of being groped. He hadn’t even realized the shorter man had moved one of his hands. With his focus on the bites, any other action had gone unnoticed.

A stifled moan slipped out of his mouth.

God, this was far better than the spaghetti.

The pleasurable heat that emanated from his groin was enough to let Albert forget about the food. If he could just get Spot to do more-

Wait.

The spaghetti.

Albert’s eyes shot open and he scrambled to push Spot away. The brunette backed off as some as Albert began to push, knowing better than to try and continue. He frowned at the ginger, his brows furrowed with confusion and worry.

“You alright?”

Albert nodded, shifting a bit as he tried to regain any composure he had prior. “Yeah, don’t worry.” He spun around, stumbling a bit as he scrambled to turn the burner off. He didn’t need the pasta overcooking. 

Sheepishly, he turned back to Spot. “I just… I didn’t want to keep it on too long.” Spot tilted his head at the comment. “I wanted to cook something for tonight and I didn’t want it to be overdone.” Albert bit the inside of his cheek for a moment before continuing. “I’ve never done this before. Cooking, that is, obviously.”

Realization washed over Spot’s features as the shorter man smiled up at him. That smile shifted into a grin within seconds when his eyes fell onto the pot. “Then let’s eat. We can continue later.”

Albert would’ve been perfectly fine if Spot didn’t wink right after that.

The sheer action nearly kicked his knees out from under him.

“Yeah,” Albert managed to say, swallowing as he tried to form words. “Later. Definitely. Yes.”

Spot smirked at the reaction, a bit too pleased with it in Albert’s eyes.

Maybe it would be a great anniversary after all. 

[harryimaginestuff]

Lover

This is heavily inspired by Taylor Swift’s ‘Lover’ so I'd also recommend giving that a listen whilst you read this (if you want). 

The one where he’s your lover.

Genre: Fluff (like pure fluff)

Word count: 3.4k 

Warnings: some drug use (weed)

    ‘Y/N! Over here,’

    ‘Miss Y/N to your right!”

     This was familiar to her, the calling out of her name by people she didn’t know and had no interest in her actual life but rather whatever drama she could bring to whatever column they worked for. This may have been her first red carpet in over a year, but she surely was no stranger to such events.

     Going through these events was more like a chore than a benefit, at least that’s what she had begun to think soon after she passed the twelfth year of working in the music industry. She had lost herself to the glitz and glam, pulled too far into the inviting glamour that came along with fame. But what she once found charming, she then discovered it to be toxic and unfavourable. Much like the transition of the media’s view of her.

    As it turned out leaked nudes by ex-boyfriends are far more damaging to a career if the person had a reputation of being naïve and pop’s princess.

     It was the sound of another name that had called her out of her stupor, too blinded by the lights to notice that someone else had joined her on the red carpet. She had been relieved of the alleviated attention, five minutes on the red carpet had been five minutes too long. The tedious formalities aiding in the reaching of her limit. And who better to steal the attention than none other than Harry Styles.

    Harry Styles was far from unfamiliar to her, being an avid follower of the man, she practically knew everything about him (that is only things he wanted fans to know). She had been a fan since the very beginning including his X-Factor days. Becoming star-struck was not a regular occurrence to her so for it to happen to her right then and there, on her first red carpet appearance in years had her feeling giddy and scared instantaneously.

     She had already begun to walk off of the carpet when his name had been called and obviously being the huge fan, she was, could not miss the opportunity to look back and gaze at the man she had admired for so long. But it wasn’t his quirky suit that left her heart beating erratically, neither was it the one dangly lock of hair, resting delicately on his forehead, but rather it was the way he was already looking at her with the brightest most brilliant smile to match his shining eyes that had her heart beating a million miles per second. And there was nothing more to do except send him her most sincere and genuine smile of the night.

    That smile belonged to him, just as his belonged to her. As it always would.

//

    She was surrounded by her friends, her heart fuzzy and warm, all of them encased by the Summer air as they enjoyed drinks on a rooftop somewhere in London with the golden sunset behind them. It was times like these where she truly felt happy. Spending time surrounded by people who loved her away from prying eyes. But it wasn’t this that had her stomach exploding with giddiness, in fact it was all due to the message she had just received only five minutes prior from her boyfriend, Harry, asking her to meet him once her night was over.

    They had only began dating four months ago after the brief, but life-changing run in on the red carpet and from then they had entered a thunderstorm of a relationship. Loud, heavy and unapologetic. It was just them and nobody else.

    They were attached at the hip and no one could come in between them.

    For the first time in a while she felt completely at peace. Sure, she still got the occasional belittling comment about her body from random men on the street catcalling her and openly discussing the leaked images. And whilst it still left a dull ache, the pain from her past did nothing to change the peace she had begun to welcome.

    As if on cue her phone rang soon after hugging her friend’s goodbye.

    “Perfect timing, H.” she had smiled into the phone, her admiration for the man spilling out of her as soon as the sound of his voice reached her ears. “I’m on my way now.”

    “No need. I’m across the street.” And just as he promised, there he stood to her left, leaning on the side of his black Audi as if he had just come out of some 80s teen romance.

    “You stalker,” she had practically shouted as she approached her boyfriend, his arms already outstretched and already anticipating her body against his.

    “You love it.” He murmured against her head, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, then onto the corner of her eye and then to her cheek until finally he reached her lips.  

    “Oh, look what I picked up.” He smiled coyly at her once the two of them had entered into the privacy of his car.

    “Show me.”

    His smile grew wider as his hand reached into the glovebox on her side, pulling out a small baggie of weed. “This.”

    Now this wasn’t something the two of them did often, it was a rare occasion for the both of them to sit down and smoke together, but when it did happen they thoroughly enjoyed it. Relishing the feeling of complete serenity that was often uncommon because of the nature of their work.

    So when they reached Harry’s North London home, they were quick to get settled down, the two of the stripping only to get dressed again into comfortable attire, Y/N automatically helping herself to Harry’s stash of old tees, a habit he loved since there was nothing better than seeing someone he cared so deeply for feel so at home in his own home.

    “You roll it.” He had said, chucking the small bagie to his girlfriend along with all the necessities.

     “Just ‘cause you can’t do it yourself.” She laughed, sitting herself onto his bed and getting started.

    “I mean.” Harry stuttered for a moment before breaking out into a smile. “True.”

    Sooner rather than later, the two of them were sprawled across the bed, her legs resting on the headboard, and his legs dangling off of the end. The position brought them discomfort, but in their high state of mind, it was the unsurpassed position for them to be able to be looking at one another.

    “We were meant to be together.” She had mumbled, her dry tongue coming out in an attempt to wet her lips. “It was fate.”

    She ignored the breathy laugh Harry had let out and instead sat up, swinging her legs so that they were now on either side of his head.

    “I swear, it’s that destiny bullshit. Because if I had met you any other time before that day we actually met I never would have said yes to you asking my manager for my number because obviously I wasn’t in the right state of mind with everything that was being spread and then if we had met after I also would have said no because my ex had asked me out.” She said her red eyes meeting his. “Do you remember that? And I probably would’ve said yes to him because I’m a masochist because four months ago I had no idea that being with someone could feel like this.”

    At that moment Harry had sat himself up too, swinging himself around so his legs rested on top of hers, before pulling her in for a kiss.

    “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

//

    “Merry Christmas!”

    The happy couple were cuddled into each other’s side, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, foot to foot as the clock struck midnight signalling the first hour of Christmas Day. His home-town home was entirely covered in decorations green and red tinsel wrapped around picture frames and a gold star resting atop of a heavily decorated Christmas tree.

    It had been the first time she had met his family, both agreeing they would split the two-day celebration between his and her family. Christmas Eve for the Styles’ and Christmas Day for the Y/L/N’s and boxing day just for the two of them.

    It was the first time for both of them to be that kind of couple. The kind that would wear matching Christmas jumpers and buy the two-person Christmas jumper, unironicallythat is, and post a picture of it on their shared finsta account.

    Much to their dismay, they had been split up during a game of Family Fortune, Anne demanding teams of boys against girls completely disregarding Harry’s complaints on how ‘s’not fair that they get to have my girlfriend’.

    Eventually his complaints only worsened as his team began to lose, jokingly screaming in frustration he would point accusatory fingers at whoever got the answer wrong. In this instance it was Michal, Gemma’s boyfriend triggering a frustrated cry from Harry.

    “Give me back my girlfriend!” he had whined. “She’s winning this game for you. S’not fair. I don’t’ want to play anymore. Gem take your man back.”

    He was pouting then, his arms founded across his chest as he huffed and puffed from his seat causing Y/N to laugh along with Anne and Gemma at the grown man who still had moments when he became a child.

    “Harry you’re still such a sore loser!” Gemma had called him out turning to you with a roll of her eyes. “Try playing scrabble with this man. An absolute nightmare.”

    A drawn out a slightly offended ‘hey’ could be heard from Harry, but the two girls both chose to ignore the childish, yet adorable man they had both come to love.

    “Oh I get it.” Y/N had smirked rolling her eyes too. “Every bloody Sunday we play and every time I win and every time he pulls a strop and refuses to look at me for at least five minutes.”

    “You two finished bitchin’ ‘bout me ey?” He plonked himself in between the two of them, half of his body sitting on top of his girlfriend.

    “Not bitching H, just some tough love.” She laughed, straining her neck so that she was able to kiss him on the cheek to which he happily leaned into.

“How ‘bout some other type of lovin’.” He had whispered in her ear with his back to her chest, his brows wriggling with suggestion. But little did he know that in his drunken stupor he had all but shouted the words causing her cheeks to burn a bright red as everyone in the room laughed at his words.

     “You horny bastard.” She had muttered against his back, hiding her burning cheeks from everyone’s prying eyes.

    But drunk Harry had no shame and a very little regard for a limit on what could be said. “Can’t help it babe. I love you, all of you.” His tone was once again laced with suggestion, brows raised and mouth open, his tongue poking just beyond his teeth.

    “Harry!” her mouth had said, but her eyes screamed, ‘I love you.’

    His words and actions may have been a bit too much for a family occasion, but they didn’t care for they had never seen him love so deeply without a care for anyone else.

//

    “Welcome to my house.” Y/N had said, pulling open the gold framed door and welcoming their friends.

    “Our!” Harry’s voice had sounded from the kitchen where he had been busying himself making frozen margaritas.

    It had taken a while, but the two of them had finally decided on a home in South West London.

    Three whole Summers they had been together.

    It had been a shock to everyone who knew them, for the couple to be moving in together so late considering the nature of their relationship. In fact, many had believed they would move in by the end of their first year together. But instead it had taken three whole Summers for it to happen. An outcome of both their busy schedules.

    The both of them had just finished their own respective tours, hers finishing only a week after his. Pathetic rumours spread by strangers did nothing to crack the towering wall built around the two lovers, in fact all it did was build another layer. After all, how could it cause any harm when the happy couple couldn’t hear anything except each other’s loving declarations even if they were 500 miles apart. Finally the media had no control over their narrative and instead they formed it together, built from the ground where they had once laid broken and beaten in a puddled mess.

    A womaniser and a princess were now simply Harry and Y/N.

    Their friends had to step around the cardboard boxes set up along the hallway, the couple not yet having enough time to set up all the belongings and make their house a home.

    “Harry I have known you five years now and I have never seen you this disorganised.” Mitch had stated, as he stumbled over a couple boxes causing him to stagger into the living room where Harry was waiting, margaritas in hand.

    With a nonchalant wave of his hand, Harry disregarded his friends’ comment, “We got time,” He could be easy going, but mostly when it came to her.

    “You guys are literally what I aspire to have.” Clare declared after a moment of watching them cuddled against each other on the sofa later that evening. Despite the free seat on their left the couple still refused to split from the others side which didn’t go unnoticed by anyone.

    “I mean… we’re not perfect.” Y/N had pointed out, her hands busy with fiddling with Harry’s brown locks.

    Mitch shook his head with a mocking laugh. “What you guys argue too like the rest of us?”

    “We do!”

    “Like about who’s turn it is to wash the dishes?” Adam joined in on the teasing.

    The couple failed to answer, but their avoiding of the eyes of everyone in the room spoke volumes causing the room to erupt into laughter.

    “Hey! it was a very serious argument in the moment!” Harry defended himself. “Besides arguments can be healthy no matter what they’re about.”

    “I can’t even imagine you guys not being stuck together anymore; you’ve been attached for so long. Swear you’ve never come out of the honeymoon stage.” Y/F/N snickered. “Remember that time they broke up for literally five minutes?” Hums of agreement could be heard from around the room.

    “Yeah!” Clare laughed. “Harry started crying in the studio, got a call from Y/N and then wrote his biggest love song on the second album.”

    “They had only been dating two months then. Two!”

    “No way was I letting my greatest lover slip through my fingers.” Y/N smiled pressing a kiss to her boyfriends’ cheek.

    The conversation continued without them, unbeknownst to the group, Harry and Y/N too invested in whispering sweet nothings into one another’s ears.

    “Oh my god they’re not even listening anymore.”

    “For fucks sake!” Complaints could be heard around the room, but it was no surprise that this would happen, besides how could they truly complain when they were nothing but happy for their two friends. Happiness was the least that they both deserved.

    However, the array of playful protests from their friends were ignored as Harry began to pepper kisses onto his girl’s face. This was their house and to them that meant they were free to do as they pleased.

//

    ‘+’

    “Is it… are you?” Harry had stumbled over his words, watching in shock as tears ran down his girlfriend’s face. With a slight nod of her head, he had erupted into a fit of laughter, prancing around the room before he scooped his girlfriend into his arms and made another round around their living room.

    “S’gonna be a girl I can feel it.” He had said once they settled down, the pregnancy test clutched in their hands.

    “You can feel it huh?” she laughed at Harry, who had just begun to rub the non-existent swell of her belly.

    “Gonna name her Anastasia. S’gonna have your colour hair and my eyes. The colour not the shape, that’d be yours too.”

     “And what would she be like.”

    “An absolute handful! Because she’s our first baby we would give her everything, but she had to be good. She’d always be attached to one of us.” The noise of everything else had been drowned out by the fantasy Harry displayed, the calming, slow tone of his voice walking them through every step of their daughter’s life, from her first steps to her first day of University.

    It was hours later when they had finally risen from the couch, their legs were cramped, and pins and needles were running up their arms. But neither cared, the two of them running on the high of their news.

    “Marry me.” Harry had spoken suddenly causing Y/N to halt her climb on the stairs.

    “What?”

    “I said marry me.” His face was dead serious, but his eyes glowed with passion and his hands were clammy from the nerves that had been running through his body.

    “Yes.” Y/N whispered only to speak louder the next time. “Yes.” she tackled Harry into a hug, forcing him to grab onto the railing to stop themselves from falling down.

    “Of course I’ll marry you.”

//

    Small gurgles could be heard from the front bench, the one-year old child chatting happily on her Nana’s lap.

    “Wave hi to Daddy Ana!” Anne whispered sweetly to the child.

    “Da.” Anastasia shouted, her chubby fingers reaching out in an attempt to grab onto her father’s Gucci suit causing everyone around her to coo softly at the small child.

    Harry was right as it turned out. She did have your hair and his eyes. But she was nowhere near a handful, in fact she was the complete opposite. She was their little angel; always content and always smiling.

    It had been safe to say that almost the entire room and been in tears as soon as Y/N had stepped into the room. This was a day that everyone who knew them saw coming. Their lives together had been written by some other omnipotent force as soon as their eyes had met that night on the red carpet. For them there had been no other way.

    It was a beautiful sight to watch destiny play its card, to watch as the two lovers became husband and wife. Who knew that what was once a borrowed heart, when mixed with one that was once blue, created a golden hue, like a halo that wrapped around the couple and the happy family they had created together.

    Their love was golden, like the gold in her dress the night they had met. Golden like the sunset the same evening Harry had told her he was falling in love with her. Gold like the star that had sat on top of the Christmas tree on their first Christmas together tied with meeting the other’s family. Golden like their door, that they had promised to step into every day for the rest of their lives. And golden like the ring he had put on her finger when he had promised to marry her.

    They had left that room as husband and wife and they never looked back.

//

    ‘Y/N! To your left!’

    ‘Smile for us Y/N!’

    Journalists had continued to scream your name from all directions, each demanding that you gave them your attention. But unluckily for them that had been stolen, for your focus still remained on the man who joined you on the red carpet, your eyes still locked right until the point where you left the red carpet.

     It was especially chaotic that evening mostly because it was your first appearance in over a year and yet you were unable to focus. The intense stare you had just shared with him left your palms sweating and left you stunned initiating a shake of your shoulder as if an attempt to be rid of the flustering feeling that somehow you knew this man beyond what you knew as a fan of his work.

    It was then, when you were smoothing out your golden dress, that you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

    “Hi! M’Harry.” His voice caused you to jump in shock, your hand quickly reaching out to meet his outstretched one, it may have simply been a formality but that did nothing to stop the tingle that ran up your arm as soon as his skin touched yours.

    “Nice to meet you.” You stumbled over your words, slightly overwhelmed by his presence. “I’m Y/N.”

                      have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

//

Okay so I would like to know if you liked that please and thanks (please give me validation!!!! (jkjk (but not really))) 

Ngl I felt really creative and artsy when I planned out the whole thing, idk if it came across as a cool idea but idc

I really hope you enjoyed it!!

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Temporal

adjective 1. relating to worldly as opposed to spiritual affairs; secular. 2. relating to time.

A/N: So I was listening to “The Chalice” from the TAZ OST and was given this idea. Since I’m not sure if posts with links are showing up in the tags, I’m going to link to FFN in the notes.

Toby Domzalski, sophomore in high school, was not someone who would often wake up so early, and definitely wasn’t someone who would be dressed and banging on his best friend’s door so early in the morning.

Tobias Domzalski, twenty-four-year-old protector of Arcadia, also wasn’t the biggest fan of waking up early, but he had a purpose to being a sophomore in high school again. This was the morning that had changed his - Toby and especially Jim’s - lives forever. If Tobias had any say in the way today’s events would occur, then this day would be a day like any other. Wake up, go to school on the route that didn’t have that stupid shortcut, and Merlin wouldn’t be getting a human champion any time soon.

Jim opened his front door, already dressed, and Tobias had to suppress a gasp. He had expected his friend to be fifteen and human, but it was still so odd to see him as the boy who had sunken into a bathtub of black liquid and not the half-troll who had emerged. This was his chance to make sure that his friend remained that way.

“Tobes, what’s wrong?” Jim asked, adjusting his grip on the VHS tapes and DVD’s he had been cleaning up. Cleaning up, putting them back on the shelves with no desire to eat.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just know you’re going to try and clean your house and cook at least two meals,” Tobias replied, trying not to sound rehearsed. “I’d really rather not take your so-called ‘shortcut’ through the canals, so I thought it’d be best if I helped you.”

Jim smiled. “Sure, come on in! My mom’s asleep, she had a late shift.”

They did not take the canals to school, and they arrived on time. Had Jim been, would Jim be, the best trollhunter in history? Of course. He was amazing in so many ways, but the world didn’t deserve him. Jim deserved to live a normal life, to graduate high school and go to some fancy cooking school that required human taste buds.

Jim didn’t look up talking blue amulets on his laptop, but he still didn’t answer the question on Herodotus’s tactics properly. Instead, he had been too busy gazing fondly at Claire, and then quickly pretending to be on task the second she started to look back towards him.

In Jim’s defense, Tobias had also been looking at Claire, but for an entirely different reason. In their original plan, Claire had been supposed to go back in time with him. Unfortunately, Claire had been poisoned by Morgana’s magic, and had died before they had fully figured out how to send their souls back to their younger selves. Despite this, Tobias had hoped that she would remember him, remember the way the three of them had fought a war together.

Given the fact that she looked at Jim the exact same way she did in Tobias’s memories, Claire probably didn’t even remember Toby’s name.

She did remember to give them fliers for the upcoming tryouts for Romeo and Juliet. Tobias decided to convince Jim to try out for it for two reasons. The first was that if he had to watch his best friend hopelessly pine for months again he was going to...

No, he couldn’t smash down a wall with his warhammer. He didn’t have his warhammer. At this point in the timeline Toby wouldn’t have his warhammer for several months anyways, had Jim found the amulet.

Just because Tobias couldn’t smash down a wall with his warhammer didn’t mean it wouldn’t be frustrating to watch Jim constantly try and fail to speak a normal, English sentence to Claire. Toby had tried to convince Jim to try out for the school play for the exact same reason nine years ago, and a very similar reason to the other one he was using now.

Jim wanted adventure? Adventure could mean, would have to mean, trying out for the school play. He’d barely had time for it when he was the trollhunter, which meant that Jim wouldn’t have time to go looking into the supernatural occurrences in the town. 

Tobias didn’t mind trying out for the play alongside Jim. It meant he could keep an eye on him and Claire at the same time. Their respective needs to be more had made them perfect for each other. Their respective needs to be more had been their unmaking.

Their organs would eventually give out this time around, too. Human aging was an inevitable thing, but Jim and Claire wouldn’t have to worry about that death until they were in their seventies or older. They wouldn’t choke as their lungs crystallized or filled with blackened blood.

The unfortunate thing about Jim not being the trollhunter was that, without the amulet and Blinky’s speech about destiny that Jim did not need to hear, he didn’t have the best chances of landing the role that would enable him to kiss Claire. Tobias had tried to get him to memorize his lines ahead of time, but it hadn’t worked. Eli would end up playing Romeo, and the only good that would come out of that was that the boy would hopefully realize that he was gay far sooner. In the meantime, Jim was stuck with none other than —

“Mercutio isn’t really the type of person whose role I could easily fit into,” Jim complained.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Tobias said. “That role doesn’t look like it’ll be easy for you, so you know what? When you blow the audience away with it, Claire’s bound to be impressed.”

“Yeah, I guess. I just feel like you would be better at playing Mercutio than I am.”

Tobias wasn’t so sure. Yeah, his personality type, especially as a sophomore, fit Mercutio better than Jim’s did. And yet, Tobias could feel like their math teacher could see Tobias’s past, could see the future Jim would never have to live.

Mercutio was the first character to die. At the end of the play, Benvolio had been the only one of his friends left living.

Tobias couldn’t let it happen again.

Goblins still attacked a delivery truck. Eli still took a photo. Killahead Bridge was still being built.

Arcadia Oaks was still in danger, and this time it didn’t have the greatest trollhunter in history to protect it. That was why Tobias snuck down to the canals one evening, after he knew Jim was asleep. He didn’t have the darkvision of trolls, and he didn’t have his warhammer to protect him from changelings. He didn’t have a boy in armor and a girl with a staff to watch his back. He wasn’t strong as he was at twenty-four, but when Draal demanded to know who he was and how a fleshbag had managed to get into Trollmarket Tobias did not flinch. Draal looked surprisingly good in armor; better than his dad had, at least. He looked almost a third as intimidating as he was when Toby and Jim had first entered Trollmarket, but he wasn’t their friend. Their friend had died about a day before Jim had given up his humanity. Tobias had prepared himself for this.

Tobias may have flinched when AAARRRGGHH!!! looked at him like a stranger. He hadn’t prepared himself for that look from his old wingman. However, he held his ground. This had been his choice to make, and he had to deal with the consequences. “I have information on Killahead Bridge.” Because he and Jim hadn’t snuck into the museum, Nomura would have no reason to have moved it.

“How do I know you aren’t some impure?” Draal asked.

It had been difficult to procure a fully iron horseshoe, but thankfully Nana didn’t check what he had ordered on Amazon.

“I can hold a gaggletack,” Tobias said, and then after holding it for a few moments he tossed it to Blinky. “You can check if you want.”

“How do we even know you aren’t some spy for them? There could be an entire secret organization of them indoctrinating humans for all we know!” Blinky wasn’t too far off, but the accusation still hurt.

“Look, let’s just say I’m from an alternate universe, and in my universe I helped defeat Gunmar. Do you want the information or not?”

“You? A fleshbag? Defeating Gunmar the Black?” Draal snorted. “How?”

“With gravity,” Tobias said, and he let the orange light overtake his arm. It was weaker than it had been when he still had the warhammer. It certainly wasn’t strong enough to warp time enough to send his consciousness hurtling backwards. However, the same orange light surrounded multiple gnomes who quickly found themselves floating. Tobias tried not to think about the possible demise of Chompsky.

Toby Domzalski, sophomore in high school, was interested in magic tricks. They were a casual interest, an old hobby. Nothing important.

Tobias Domzalski, twenty-four-year-old protector of Arcadia, was an actual wizard, one whose power ran deep. His magic couldn’t kill him like a parasite. He had been the protector of Arcadia with his closest friends, once. He would protect Arcadia for his friends, this time around.

[winnie-the-patton]

Not Just Adorable

   I wrote a thing! I really hope you guys like it. I channeled a lot of my own personal experiences into it and how i described the various situations, so I think it’s pretty accurate, but if you notice anything you think is wrong or offensive please please let me know! Also if anything needs to be tagged.

Word Count: 1,576

CW: ADHD, hurt/comfort, a little self hate, mild angst.

-----------------

   “No! You’re wrong!” Patton cried. He crossed his arms defensively, tears threatening to spill.

   Logan frowned, wondering if he had somehow made an error. He looked back at his notebook of observations, trying to to see if he had overlooked anything.

Patton Observations:

Conversation:     Holding a conversation with Patton can be exhausting, but enjoyable. He jumps from topic to topic with no clear correlation. He tends to ramble and fumble over his words, occasionally forgetting what he is talking about entirely. When it is my turn to talk, he will sometimes will interrupt to interject his thoughts, whether or not they are related directly to what I’m saying.     This happens with the others as well, such as when he yelled “Tonks” when we were all discussing Harry Potter. I believe these interjections are caused by him finally coming to the end of a long train of thought and being excited, or him fearing he will forget his thought by the time he gets a chance to speak again.

Hyperfocus:    While Patton’s mind seems to jump from thought to thought as experienced in conversation, he can sometimes focus intensely on a single task. I walked in the other day on Patton tidying the living room. He did so all afternoon, jumping from chore to chore but never leaving the general task of cleaning. I tried to talk to him once, and he appeared to be startled, almost dazed. It was as if he did not process the words I was saying. After he finished cleaning, he seemed content with himself.

Hyperfixation:    Patton often gets intensely invested in a single topic for a period of time. Recently, it has been what are known as “ASMR, Slime Videos” on youtube. He can watch them for hours, and has told me many times about his favorite people to watch and his favorite types of slime. Though none of the rest of us watch these videos or share his interest in them, Patton continues to excitedly tell us about them    It should also be documented that this type of seemingly obsessive behavior has happened before. Previously, Patton was focused on dogs and how they different breeds looked and behaved. When asked about dogs now, Patton will still respond and speak fondly of the creatures, but not with the intensity and excitement as before.    I have noticed this cycle of intense excitement then faded interest repeat multiple times. His interests have included youtubers, musicians, television shows, and video games.

Spaceiness:    As previously observed, Patton’s mind seems quite hectic. Because of this, Patton often seems to “space out” or forget what he’s doing. He often forgets what he is told to do, and has been known to repeat himself without realizing it. He is also bad at remembering names and faces, leading to some very awkward encounters with friends.    One place I’ve seen this “spaceiness” occur time and time again is when Patton goes to the grocery store. If he is sent to the store to get bread, butter, and milk, he will often return with many more items than previously discussed. In addition, he will likely have forgotten at least one time on the list.    I found this curious, so I decided to observe further. We returned to the store a few weeks later to pick up the same items. This time, I went with Patton to see what happened. As we went up and down isles, Patton would often get distracted and wander off. Once, I even turned around to discover he had wandered into a different isle without realizing he’d left me. He is easily distracted by different stimuli.

Fidgeting:    Patton never seems to be able to keep himself still. Whether its bouncing in place, playing with the sleeves of his cardigan, or simply tapping his hand on his leg, Patton never stops moving. This fidgeting is worst when his attention is supposed to be focused on a single task, such as filming a video or watching a movie.    Patton seems to have a lot of energy, and is easily excitable. When he gets excited, he often bounces up and down, and flaps his arms a bit.

Conclusion:    Based on the behaviors Patton displays, I believe he likely has ADHD. Many of his behavioral patterns are in line with the symptoms found in people with this disorder, such as the hyperfocus, scattered thoughts, fidgeting, hyperfixation, and general spaciness.    The only common behavior Patton has not displayed is any sign of RSD, or Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. This is a common occurrence for people with ADHD where their sense of rejection is heightened to an extreme beyond the average person, so any dismissal is experienced intensely. They can perceive an event as being rejection or failure, even if it is not accurate to reality.    This feeling of rejection can be very intense, leaving the person with ADHD feeling depressed and anxious, even if the “rejection” was not intended to be severe.    Patton shows no sign of this, as his sunny disposition is ever thus.

Oh. He had missed something.

   Logan thought back on the many times Patton’s thoughts had been dismissed, or they had teased Patton’s childish ways. How he and Roman would patronize the fatherly figure, and disregard his affection.

   Patton would laugh it off, and often say “I’m gonna get a cookie!” Before disappearing to his room. They had thought nothing of this behavior, but Logan now realized what was truly happening. His heart broke, realizing that Patton had likely been suffering alone all this time.

   He looked up from his notebook at Patton, who was sitting on the bed hugging himself, eyes sparkling with tears. Logan regretted having this conversation in Patton’s room, as he could feel every emotion heightened. Patton’s sadness, his feeling of rejection, Logan’s own guilt for not realizing sooner.

   “Hey,” Logan said softly, doing his best to imitate the fatherly figure’s ‘comfort’ voice, “Its ok, there’s nothing wrong with having ADHD…”

   “I don’t!” Patton stated again, a few tears escaping. “I know… I know I’m not as serious as you guys. My sentences don’t sound all fancy and smart like you and Roman, and I jumble my words. My thoughts aren’t deep and complicated like Virgil, and I’m silly and I like to have fun… But I’m not dumb!”

   Logan frowned, startled and surprised by the statements. “I… We… We never said you were dumb…”

   “You think it, I know…” Patton grabbed a Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal and hugged it close, burying his face in it. “I’m childish, I don’t focus well. I get easily excited and sometimes I get distracted… but why do you have to bring it up?” He glanced up at Logan, face streaked with tears. “I know you look down on me, I know you think I’m just ‘adorable’ and ‘emotional’, but why is that a bad thing? Why can’t I just enjoy myself? What’s wrong with being cute and loving? Why do you guys treat me like I’m dumb and helpless because I try to stay positive? I’m not hurting anyone by having fun…”

   Logan was silent, processing Patton’s words. Slowly, he moved and sat besides him “Pat… I’m so sorry. We never meant to make you feel stupid or less than an equal.” He gently placed a hand on Patton’s shoulder, “We do not think your stupid. In fact, I think you’re very smart. You understand emotion, something which is a mystery to me. You are my friend and equal, nothing less”

   Logan could feel the room calm a bit, the intense pain of rejection subsiding. God, how often did Patton feel that way? How often was his room filled with an anxiety to match Virgil’s? Logan made a mental note to speak with Roman about how they both talk to Patton. Adjustments needed to be made.

   “And though I do not like to admit it,” Logan took a deep breath, “Your… humor, is in fact quite clever. Your word play often goes over my head, and while I do not enjoy not understanding, I am impressed with you.”

   Patton was surprised and confused by this statement. “You’re… you’re impressed by me?” He blinked a few times, tears slowing to a stop, “But… you’re so smart? I’m just… I’m just silly, stupid me…”

   Logan shook his head definitively, “No, you are not stupid. Not in the slightest. Your personality is charming, and it is clear that you are extremely intelligent.” He paused, trying to read Pat’s expression, “I am so sorry we hurt you Patton, we never-”

   Logan couldn’t finish his thought, as Patton’s warm body slammed into his. Logan tensed at the embrace, but quickly relaxed, content to see Patton back to his fatherly self.

   “Thank you Logan… Thank you so much” Patton cried again. This time, however, the tears were of happiness, at finally feeling validated.

   “Anytime Patton. And, if you like, I have researched some coping mechanism to help you focus and improve your memory,” he quickly added, “Again, only if you want. There is no shame in having ADHD, and I do not think of you any less for it. It just may help you feel better about yourself, I care and accept you as you are.”

   Patton wiped away his tears and smiled at the logical trait. He nodded, “Yeah… yes that would be wonderful Logan. Thank you.”

   And for the first time in a long time, Patton’s room felt hopeful, and loved.

----------

Special thanks to @metryingtobeme and @starrykid for encouraging me to write and post this. Really appreciate it a lot <3

And @thatsthat24 for creating the Sander Sides in the first place. 

[differentjokes4differentfolks]

Where’s the Fun in This? Chap 1

I decided to post the first chap of my fic here before on ao3. Hope you guys like it! It was fun to write :)

It starts with an explosion.

Rather, a message to Bruce about an explosion. One over at Arkham Asylum. It’s a common enough occurrence, criminals escaping every once in awhile. Bruce is no stranger to these calls. It’s maybe a night-long job. So this isn’t the fact that this happened that worries him.

It’s all about the timing. The week before the Gotham City gala, an annual charity ball. Normally this wouldn’t bother him either, but it’s the matter of who escaped. Oswald Cobblepot, aka The Penguin. One of the wealthiest criminals running the underground, able to entice others with his riches and mingle with high society. All this screams out Something is wrong to Bruce. Oswald’s ambitious, but surely not ambitious enough to try anything at the gala, right?

Except due to the timing of this breakout, that seems to be the plan exactly. And Bruce can’t let that happen.

Of course it would happen on a relatively quiet night.

“They can never give me a day off,” Bruce mutters to himself halfheartedly. It’s no less than he expected. When you turn vigilante there aren’t many opportunities to slack off. New plots, new villains. Always crime and attempts at shaking up what most Gothamites would consider an otherwise normal life.

Bruce gets ready, putting on his batsuit carefully, the heavy but flexible armour a second skin to him. He passes Alfred in the lab, his butler always at the ready when he dons his suit.

“Sir, are you sure you won’t have Master Tim help you? He needs more experience, and this seems like an eventful evening.”

“Exactly. This feels off, even for Gotham, and I don’t want him in the middle. Just because one criminal escaped doesn’t mean there aren’t more on the loose. Arkham and Blackgate can’t hold all of them, you know.

“Agreed. Promise you’ll be careful.”

Bruce remains silent, both men knowing how easy it would be to break that promise. “I’ll tell you if something comes up, Alfred. Does Oracle know?”

“I believe so sir, she should be in contact with you when she finds something.”

Bruce gives a small nod, reassured. He strides off to the garage, starting up the Batmobile, ready to head into Gotham and investigate. The door opens and he drives off, the sky just beginning to darken into the inky grey that complements the city lights in the distance. The long road is empty as usual, save the stray greenery. His car’s lights are the only thing illuminating the darkness, his focus on the road, the skyline getting closer. The sooner this night ends the better, but Bruce knows he’ll be spending a fair amount of time on finding out what’s really going on in the dark city.

His car skids to a stop a short way away from the GCPD, hidden in the shadows while Bruce goes to discuss Gotham’s goings-on with Commissioner Gordon. He grapples to the top of the building, messaging Gordon. The man appears a short time later, hair whipping at his wind and clothes in the cool autumn air.

“So you’ve heard.”

“What happened at Arkham?”

Gordon shakes his head. “Beyond the fact that someone blew up a wall to escape? Not much. We know it’s Cobblepot, but reports are sketchy on whether or not anyone else is gone. The asylum is in chaos, I’m told. I have some of my men headed over.”

Bruce nods, his mask-clad face hiding his expression. “I need to find Cobblepot. Keep me posted.” Usually Alfred’s get the information sooner, but right now Bruce will take any hint he can get.

He stands at the edge of the building, ready to get back to the Batmobile, Gordon watching.

“I’ll have some men patrolling, I’ll make sure they know not to shoot you,” he calls after him.

Bruce smirks, diving off the roof without responding. The police force is made up of people who like and hate him, no doubt there would be some asshole ready to shoot without a second thought. Tonight it’ll be more of an irritation than usual, but he has bigger things to worry about.

To start, he decides on visiting the Penguin’s usual hangouts. It’s as good a place as any to start, in his opinion. He won’t bother with Penguin’s club though, it’d be futile to search it, Penguin knows it’s the first place he’d search. It’s also suicide since he has many alliances in his club, and no doubt by now they know he’ll be hiding from Bruce.

Bruce parks the Batmobile to the side, grappling to the closest tall building around Chinatown, which is one of the few areas that the nights see hustle and bustle. Any hint of suspicious activity and he focuses on the person causing it. Some are common thieves, running away from the few cops on patrol in the small part of Gotham. While the area is a perfect place for distraction, nothing too serious goes on. The police catch the thief, a young man clutching an old woman’s purse. Likely the most serious crime the police will have to deal with here. He leaves that to them, scanning the area intently while he waits for either a message from Alfred or Oracle.

For the most part Chinatown is uneventful, Bruce growing antsy and realising this must not be where Penguin has disappeared to. Next he decides to check the nearby Diamond District, hoping for a bit more of a lead. He calls the Batmobile over, driving off.

There are a few misdeeds he comes across, but it’s quiet again. Old Gotham is one of the likeliest places at this point, some criminals decide to hide under the GCPD’s nose. This would work, except for the fact Gordon would probably have noticed something by now. Or even Oracle, who has been silent this whole time. Why does tonight feel so different from every other? Something feels...off kilter.

Bruce shakes off the feeling. Maybe I should go check Old Gotham, just in case. It won’t do much harm. Who knows, maybe Gordon did overlook something.

“Batman?” A wave of relief washes over Bruce when he hears Oracle's voice.

“Have you found something?”

“Nothing too serious, but there are a few thugs around on Founder’s Island. They haven’t mentioned anything of importance yet. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you, Oracle.”

“No problem.” Oracle signs off. At least he has that area under surveillance. He drives over to Old Gotham, doing a quick sweep on the streets before deciding to traverse the tops of buildings. He rests at the top of a bridge near the GCPD, the city lights illuminating the streets below. The only thing to do now is watch and wait, he supposes.

A half-hour goes by like this with no hint of trouble. Bruce decides on ten more minutes, if nothing happens by then he’ll go check one of the other areas not yet searched. The cold air barely penetrates his suit, and he thanks the extra padding. He would surely be frozen by now if not for the suit. He shifts, eyes refocusing. It isn’t quite relaxing being up here, but he is rather tired, nothing bothering to keep him awake and after two nights hunting down Dent before this being exhausted. Maybe...

“So, I’ve been thinking.”

It takes all Bruce’s willpower not to jump, losing his concentration until his focus on searching for Penguin (or taking a quick nap) fades from his thoughts. The one person he doesn’t need to see today, Joker stands next to him, leaning against a pillar, and if he had spoken up Bruce would never have noticed him. He sends the Joker a half-hearted scowl, trying to maintain just a bit of focus and eyeing the roads.

“What are you doing here, Joker?”

Joker grins nonchalantly, hands in his pockets. His face is a picture of innocence, despite the war paint meant to intimidate. He’s anything but innocent, and despite his casual pose Bruce sees the glint in Joker’s eyes. It’s a giveaway. Nothing about this is casual. A week before the Gotham City gala and Penguin decides to break out of Arkham, leaving everything up in the air. Part of a wall at Arkham Asylum was blown up, from the outside, allowing him to escape and leaving guards too off-guard to react quickly. He hasn’t heard much since then, though he put Alfred in charge of getting the footage of what really happened.

“I was in the area.” Bruce snorts. A hundred feet in the air on a bridge, lying in wait for Two-Face, isn’t the most conventional rendezvous point, especially when the Joker is supposed to be behind bars at Arkham. “Still looking for Oz, huh? Bats, he’s only been missing for what? Two hours? Nothing’s really happened in that time, why so stressed? It’d be different if it was me, of course,” he chuckles at Bruce’s unimpressed glare, “But Ozzy, well, he’s not worth your time.”

“He’s planning something.”

“Hmm.” Joker hums noncommittally, taking his left hand out of his pocket and inspecting his sharp nails. He side-eyes Bruce, letting his hand rest at his side. “You know, if you were gonna worry about anything, I thought it’d be about Dent.” Bruce watches the streets, waiting for a call from Alfred or Oracle. “He’s still in Arkham. I just put him there.”

“He is? That’s news to me, Bats-old-boy. You know, he was my neighbour in Arkham. I tend to notice when the cells next to me are empty. No banging on walls or muttering curses.”

That clicks in Bruce’s mind. It’s one thing for Joker to escape from Arkham on occasion, maybe taking someone along for the ride, but for both Dent and Cobblepot to have escaped?

“I was told Cobblepot was alone when he escaped.”

“Oh, he was. It took the chaos that ensued after for Cobblepot to escape. Me? Well, I might have taken advantage too. I’m just breathing in as much fresh air as I can before you lock me back up. That won’t be for a while though, don’t worry,” he shoots a look at Bruce. “I’m just here for conversation.”

This doesn’t reassure Bruce. “And you weren’t the one to help them escape at all?”

Joker feigns a hurt expression. “Me? I thought you knew me better. I look out for myself. But between you and me…” Joker’s voice turns a little darker, eyes narrowing. “I don’t think Harvey and Oz were planning on me getting out.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

Another shrug. “I was going batty in there,” he laughs at the pun, smirking at Bruce. “In truth, I missed you.” He bats his eyes flirtatiously, his smile teasing, and Bruce fights the urge to punch the clown in the face. Said clown pouts at Bruce’s expression.

“What? No reciprocation of feelings? No, ‘my closest enemy was behind bars and I’ve had nothing to do, woe is me’?” I’m wounded, truly I am.”

“You have five seconds before I throw you back into Arkham.” Although I should be doing that anyway… However, tonight was not a good night for Joker’s antics, regardless. He’d deal with him later.

“Alright, alright. Geez, always so uptight. Just a tip? Make sure you check the docks. You never know what you’ll find there.” He pats Bruce on the back as he passes. “Nice cowl by the way. New suit? The colour matches your personality.” Joker giggles, turning away and walking down the length of the bridge’s tower. Bruces closes his eyes with a heavy sigh. When he looks up, the Joker’s gone. Great, another problem. But what did he expect? This was Gotham, after all.

His comm beeps, a tinny sound that barely breaks through the noise of the city.

“Alfred?”

“Sir, have you found any traces of Mr. Cobblepot?”

“No. Dent is gone too...and Joker.” Bruce can just barely pick up on Alfred’s sigh.

“Oh dear. Do you know where they might be?”

Bruce was about to say, “Not yet” before pausing. Joker had told him about the docks. The question was, was that tip trustworthy? The clown had no proof of ever having been trustworthy, to Bruce’s knowledge, and when he was telling the truth, it came at a price. But there aren’t any other leads, both The Penguin and Dent aren’t known for being subtle, but he hasn’t heard a peep from either. “I...got a tip from Joker that I should check the dock.”

“And you’re sure you can trust this?” He knows the suspicious tone of voice Alfred has, it’s the same running through his mind.

“No. But it’s the only thing we have to go on at the moment, and I don’t want this to go on longer than it has to.”

There’s a silence between the two, both knowing what a bad idea it is. Then again, chasing after villains in a batsuit isn’t on the top of the list of good ideas for most people.

“I assume you won’t be back in time for dinner, Master Bruce,” Alfred says dryly.

“I’ll be back soon if I can, for all we know the docks are completely empty.” Something in the back of his mind says there must be something there, though he has no basis for his thoughts. Seeing as nothing’ll get done if he just stays in one place. He jumps into the open air, using his batclaw to traverse the city and approach the docks. With luck, he’ll find something.

*

The docks are eerie at night, the only noises being the sea breeze and waves crashing against the dock, containment units littering the place, piled up and towering over Bruce. The wind whistles through the units, adding a sort of creaking to the already tense atmosphere. Bruce walks along the units, relying on shadows to not give him away. So far there’s been no sign of anything odd going on, to Bruce’s relief and disappointment. There isn’t even a whisper of wrongdoing. Alfred has control over the cameras, he hasn’t seen much either.

“Psst!”

Bruce flinches, freezing in place and glancing around.

“Bats.” And there he is, in all his green and purple glory. The Joker waves Bruce over impatiently, waiting for Bruce to join him at his side. Bruce rolls his eyes but runs to him. “Fancy meeting you here,” Joker says, peering around one of the giant metal boxes around them.

“Why are you here?” And how did you show up before me?

“I wasn’t sure if you’d follow up on my tip, thought maybe I should infiltrate their base myself,” Joker says with a wide grin. Bruce realises had he not come, or had he come a little later, the docks might be full of laughing gas or blown up by now.

“I can do this myself,” Bruce tells the Joker sternly. “Maybe you should get back to Arkham.”

Despite the fact both need to be silent in order to sneak around, Joker laughs. “And miss out on all the fun? Not likely. Besides, I know exactly where they are.”

“And how would you know that?”

Joker raises an eyebrow. “I have my ways. Now are you gonna come with me or should I knock you out and leave you for the cops to find?” He strolls off, and Bruce knows that the clown knows he’ll follow.

“You’re sure Dent and Cobblepot will be here?”

“Pretty sure.” An answer Bruce expects but doesn’t appreciate. They walk through the maze of metal, Joker leading Bruce towards the far end of the dock. As they get closer to the end Joker grows more and more annoyed, a tense giggle here and there, some mumbling under his breath. Bruce isn’t entirely sure if he should’ve let Joker come with at all, he looks perfectly homicidal. He watches, and Joker notices, corner of his lips turned up in a grim smile.

“I never told you why I’m so interested in this, did I?”

Bruce shakes his head, wondering if the clown will elaborate. He speaks after a moment.

“I’m not interested. Not really. Isn’t that insane? Hmm, maybe too crazy for me.” Bruce does his best not to laugh at that, Joker continuing his ramble. “Well first they took over my base, which is a no-no in my book of rules. Then, Oz broke his promise. I wouldn’t mind so much if it hadn’t been the one thing keeping us on relatively good terms, but,” Joker waves his hand flippantly. “C’est la vie, I guess.” Bruce wonders what that broken promise is.

But he can’t help but be skeptical about this Joker wanting to help, so many times it’s been part of an elaborate trap. “What makes you so sure I trust you on this?”

Joker doesn’t talk, but his smile grows a little forced. He turns away, leaving Bruce to mull over his words without a hint. It unsettles him.

Rain starts to fall within minutes, a light drizzle that makes the night even darker. The Joker glances up at the sky, grumbling a bit. Bruce wonders if his makeup would run. He guesses not, since he’s never seen that happen and rain was a common occurrence in the city. Come to think of it, Joker might have been scarier with running mascara, if only due to the anger from his makeup being out of place. He smiles despite himself. Joker looks back at him, catching the smile.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Bruce says simply, the corners of his mouth back in his usual expression. It clearly isn’t the answer Joker wants, but it’s the one the clown got. Joker frowns, the expression grotesque with his lipstick still in a smile at the ends. So his makeup was staying in place. Learn something new every day. It brings back Bruce’s smile.

“Okay, now you have to tell me.”

It’s a losing battle from the start, if Bruce holds it back, Joker could very well get angry, and an angry Joker is and unpredictable one. If he tells, he has a 50/50 chance of being gutted, as opposed to 100. It’s a no brainer.

“Is your makeup water resistant?”

Joker blinks. And blinks again, smile frozen in place. “This is what you’re on about?” He rolls his eyes. “Yes. It’d be awful if I had to reapply every five minutes. I can’t believe this is what makes you laugh,” he mumbles under his breath. Bruce waits as his companion shakes his head with a snort of disbelief. “Bats, if you survive this I’m going to teach you what’s really funny.” It’s a passing remark with an edge. Before Bruce can read into it too much, Joker pulls at his cape. “C’mon, we’re almost there.”

They turn and turn, going around bends and through opened units, into a section Bruce wouldn’t have found quickly without Joker’s help. It’s still empty, but there’s a thrum of machinery nearby.

“What is this place?”

“Well, originally it was one of my hang-outs. Me and Harley would come here to disappear for a bit. Now? Who knows, maybe Harv and Ozzy are trying to form an army. Not their style, I’ll admit, but whatever. And I thought they were my friends.” A silence falls, Bruce refusing to remark on the fact that most of Joker’s friends end up in a gutter. Joker shrugs, opening his mouth to speak when a crashing noise sounds across the area. Bruce pushes Joker into the shadows, the clown making an indignant sound at being pressed against the walls with no warning. Footsteps follow the loud noise, as well as an obnoxious voice that Bruce knows to be Oswald Cobblepot.

“Can’t you bastards do anything right?” He growls over the sounds. Bruce can just make out his silhouette inside a unit, waving his umbrella. “I told you to move this thing an hour ago!”

“What on earth are they doing with my couch?” Joker growls near Bruce’s ear. Bruce notices it’s a couch the men are carrying, a gaudy bright green monstrosity that hurts to look at. He also notices the men seem to be struggling with the object, surprising since both the henchmen look able to carry 500 pounds each.

His observations and questions are answered when the men drop the couch to the floor, cutting a slit in the cushions. One of the men pulls out a rocket launcher.

“I forgot that was in there,” Joker says, giggling quietly. The men pull out gun after gun, including revolvers, machine guns, and every sort in between. “Are they going to--yup, they are,” he says as the two men watch the henchmen unscrewing the couch’s decorations at the ends of the armrests, pulling out a collection of grenades. “Damn.”

As interesting as this is, Bruce has other things on his mind. “Where’s Dent?”

“Still inside is my guess. They must’ve turned my place upside down. Too bad, I have some nice trinkets in there. Ah well, I’ll get them back for it later. I don’t think we’ll be able to get in this way, but I have a secret entrance, it’s this way.” Joker scurries off without another sound. Bruce watches Penguin for another few moments before following yet again. He resigns to the fact that Joker will be leading the whole time. Joker has always been fast, maintaining a steady lead on Bruce and rarely taking the time to make sure he hasn’t lost him. It’s insane, Joker trusts that Bruce will follow him. And he’s right. Bruce puffs out a sigh.

*

The secret entrance turns out to be nothing more than a passage into the nearby sewers. Joker jumps willingly into the murky water. Bruce jumps a little after him, relieved his suit is waterproof. The smell is overpowering. As they trudge along wind whips around them, carrying noises with it. A brief shudder runs down Bruce’s spine as he remembers this used to be Killer Croc’s domain. He sincerely hopes Croc wasn’t one to jump at the chance to escape tonight. Humming cuts through the air, a slightly off-key waltz coming from Joker. It’s almost pretty, but doesn’t allow for quiet recon.

“Can you quiet down?” Bruce says. Joker’s hum cuts off.

“Don’t worry so much, no one’ll hear me. Besides, these tunnels make me antsy. I got stuck in them once, trying to get out. There are some things you just don’t want to see in these dank sewers, Batsy.” The humming starts up again, slightly quieter. Bruce doesn’t say anything else, tailing silently. Hardly any light can be seen, until he brings out a flashlight. Their shadows tower over them on the walls, adding to the creepy atmosphere.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred’s voice surprises hum, despite the fact no one else can hear he can’t help but watch for a reaction of recognition from Joker.

“I can’t talk much, I’m in the sewers with Joker,” he said into his comm with a low voice. He listens for Joker’s humming, which still carries. He hasn’t heard.

“I see. I wanted to say Arkham has sorted through some of the chaos. Only three have been reported missing so far, Mr. Dent, Mr. Cobblepot, and of course, the Joker. I’m looking at the footage now, and it seems Dent had some outside help. This must have been planned for a while.”

“I’m starting to see that. Can you find out if-”

“Ooh, you orderin’ a pizza?” Joker leans close to Bruce, talking into the comm. “I’ll  have pepperoni and sausage with tomato--” Bruce pushes him away, barely hearing Alfred’s bemused words before hanging up.

“Rude. And I was just warming up to you too.” Joker sticks his tongue out at Bruce. “Might want to work on your attitude if we’re to be working together, dear.” Bruce clenches his jaw.

“Are we almost there?”

“Yeah. We actually do need to be quiet now though, I dunno if anyone’s close to the entrance.” Joker whispers. He presses his hands to the wall, pressing down on one until it moves with a slight groan. Part of the wall slides, Joker helping it along before sliding through. “No one’s here, thank goodness!” Bruce hopes he’s telling the truth, but assumes he’d hear gunshots and shout if he was lying. He enters after the clown, sliding the wall back to a close. Time to investigate.

[afoolsingenuity]

The Hate U Give // It’s A Must Read For Everyone

The Hate U Give – Angie Thomas

Published: 6th April 2017 Source: Bought Genre: Young Adult, Contemporary, Realistic Fiction My Rating:

Sixteen-year-old Starr lives in two worlds: the poor neighbourhood where she was born and raised and her posh high school in the suburbs. The uneasy balance between them is shattered when Starr is the only witness to the fatal shooting of her unarmed best friend, Khalil, by a police officer. Now what Starr says could destroy her community. It could also get her killed. Inspired by the Black Lives Matter movement, this is a powerful and gripping YA novel about one girl's struggle for justice. Movie rights have been sold to Fox, with Amandla Stenberg (The Hunger Games) to star.

A book about fighting for what's right has never felt more apt than right now. I mean, the past few weeks has once more demonstrated that racial equality has not been achieved and it has never been more obvious than in the US. I would go into my rant about the racism demonstrated by the white supremacist nazis who were protesting but I don’t want to work myself up to rage about it. I don’t need to when this book will help fire up that feeling of outrage.

This book has been raved about and hyped up and I was so wary about picking it up and being disappointed so it is safe to say I am thrilled it met all expectations and firmly placed itself as a must read for YA lovers (and book lovers in general). It’s an eye-opening read that will hit you in the feels and it’s certainly one I believe everyone should be reading. I should have read it far sooner but it’s sad to see even after the Black Lives Matter movement has been alive and well for a while it’s a book we still need today as there are still people out there who hold racist beliefs and whose voices are still being heard and not talked down enough.

I wasn’t sure how to talk about this book. I’ve tried three times to write a review which fully captures why this book is important and how it packed such a punch and I’ve been failing epically. At first I thought about writing five reasons why you should read, but there are far too many good reasons to read than that. Then I tried to write my normal review and couldn’t find the write words to explain why this book is good. I kept getting drawn off into tangents and I began talking politics and it all went wrong then. And so I’ve been sat staring as screen with about three different takes on this book all in one post. I’m going to try and be concise. Wish me luck.

This book was eye opening for me. I was aware of the struggles which were on going in America (and around the world, race is not an exclusively US struggle) and I knew about the Black Lives Matter movement. I was even aware that racial profiling was done by the police. I know the statistics for the number of black lives taken by the police last year and I know that more black people are killed by the police than in terror attacks. I know the statistics but actually reading a book where this happens is very different.

Angie Thomas speaks from a place of knowledge in this book. As her acknowledgements say, she grew up in an area very similar to Starr and had similar troubles reconciling herself at home and that at school as she had two very different personas. She knows the struggle of getting out of a poor neighbourhood and making her way in the world and you can see her experiences shining through on the page. You heard it in the way that Starr is viewed by those in her neighbourhood as seeing herself above them as she doesn’t hang out with them as much now she’s at a private school. You see it how she modulates her own self to fit better with her rich, white friends at her private school. There are certain phrases and speech patterns she won’t use so she doesn’t come across as an angry black girl. She is viewed as inherently cool by her white friends simply because she is black she must know what is cool whilst with her black friends at home she isn’t cool. She hangs back. The perception of her in both places is very different. I wouldn’t have even thought about it but it’s something which people do to fit. I know it’s now the same but we all alter ourselves from at home to how we act in a professional environment, like work. We alter ourselves slightly to better fit in. Starr has to do that in everyday life. Seeing her reconcile her two selves into one through the book was interesting. Especially as it was triggered by her witnessing the police shooting a friend and it being a spoken about topic both at home and at school meant her two worlds collided when she had managed to keep them very separate before that.

The skill at which Thomas shines a light on everyday things you don’t even notice was amazing as well. For me, getting pulled over by the police would be nerve-wracking (it’s the police, it’s always a daunting experience) but only in the way you mentally catalogue anything you’ve done wrong and try reassure yourself you’re not guilty. Not because you fear how the police will react to you and whether or not you have to fear the police themselves. Not because you fear they will look at the colour of your skin and you will be at risk. The fact that this is a normal occurrence for many a person and they have a reason to fear not because they’ve done something wrong but simply because the colour of their skin is shocking. It was not comfortable to acknowledge that although we like to believe we are beyond such thing racism is still obvious in the everyday and people get treated differently due to the colour of their skin. That has been very obvious in recent weeks seeing white folks gathering with firearms in a public place and there has been no rollout of the army whilst when black people protested for the killing of someone from their community there have been curfews and a large police presence.

It is not always comfortable seeing Starr’s friends and the way which they act and some of the comments said. I wasn’t always a fan of Starr’s boyfriend, especially with some of the comments he made… but he was good at demonstrating incorrect beliefs and when being taught why they are incorrect. Like the comments about black names being weird and then Starr and her friends demonstrating that in fact white names are weird (different cultures people!) and white people insistence that they split up (fatal horror film choice you should never make and it made me laugh when this then happened in a book I was reading, guess what everyone ended up captured!). Those lighter moments which highlighted comments which are racist but made fun of them were great because those are the comments people are likely to make. That fun interaction of learning about different cultures was good and it was fun and it meant this book never came across like it was preaching at you.

This is just a brilliant book. It’s brilliantly written and it’s smart. It talks about relevant issues in the world and thus should be read by everyone. For me it gave a different perspective and it taught me knew things. It led me to question my immediate response to events like a police shooting and reminded me that there are people involved and now be too quick to believe everything being said on the news. It will make you laugh and make you cry and make you care about all these characters and want to keep them safe. You will rage at the injustices seen and cheer on the small moments of success. When a character learns they’re being racist and stops you will want to let out a small cheer. And when someone is being an idiot you will want to smack them upside the head for being dumb. It’s chock full of all that good stuff I like in a book and I will be trying to force everyone I know to give this a read.

Have you read The Hate U Give? What did you think?

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