#also yes his headband is askew

[zarvasace]

Big fan of him if you didn’t know that. Shatterproof Shadow specifically, details including the ribbon and kinstone bracelet and blue eyes (usually I make lu Shadow's red! And his hair brighter! But here's it's dark) :)

Bonus content under the cut!

These are all canon to me.

[toporecall]

If I’m A Pagan Of The Good Times (Darlington x Alex)

I’m 5 chapters into writing this fic and having WAY too much fun with it. Posting the first 2 chapters here and the rest is on ao3 (here!) with more to come! (Warning: smut!)

Summary: It's been a few weeks since the end of Hell Bent and the rescue of Darlington. The gang has struck an exhausting balance between dealing with the escaped demons and performing their regular Lethe duties. It's Halloween night now and time for Alex and Darlington to babysit Manuscript's annual party once again. This year, Darlington has to strike a deal with Lan Caihe - but what does he have to give in return. 

Status: In Progress (being updated daily, sometimes more than once a day because I can’t stop writing lol)

*****

Chapter 1

Alex could feel tension rolling off of Darlington in waves as they approached the Manuscript house. She knew well by now that he trusted this house far less than the others - and a year ago she had seen first hand why. That Halloween night last year had taken on more significance to her as time had passed. 

At the time, it had been fairly easy to shake off the way you would a friend trying to kiss you when they got too drunk at a party. Harmless, meaningless. But a year later, after they’d been though so much - Alex sometimes couldn’t tear her mind away from the image of Darlington on his knees before her, hands on her thighs with her skirt pushed up in front of a roomful of people. 

I will serve you 'til the end of days.

It had been echoing in her head for weeks since they brought Darlington back from hell. They hadn’t talked about it at all since he had told her - that he was bound to her, to serve her. She had barely let herself think about it, which was surprisingly easy considering they’d been chasing escaped demons around New Haven while also having to perform their regular Lethe duties and pretend like nothing was wrong.

Tonight was one of those nights: their observation of the annual Manuscript Halloween party - the party that would power their rituals for an entire year to come. And Alex was a little nervous after what had happened to Darlington here last year but she figured they wouldn’t try that shit twice.

Darlington though - he didn’t seem as sure. They were just a few blocks from the party, walking in silence in their costumes. Alex dressed as Queen Mab again and Darlington had apparently developed a sense of humor upon his return from hell because he wore black jeans, black boots, a black sweater, and some cheap red horns on his head. A modern devil.

“Ok, what’s up? You’re even more sullen than normal tonight,” she finally asked him.

He sighed and knocked his devil horns askew while trying to run his fingers through his hair. He readjusted them on their plastic headband before speaking. “There’s something I didn’t tell you about tonight.”

Alex’s stomach dropped instantly but she did her best to play nonchalant. “Come on this should be the easy one - we get in, we observe, we get out. Easy, right?” Her voice may have betrayed her a bit on that last word, rising just a little too high in her register.

Darlington stopped walking and turned to face her. She met his eyes, their regular brown right now as opposed to their demonic golden she sometimes got to see. Eye contact with him had been difficult recently - she’d been becoming increasingly…distracted by him and it was getting difficult to pretend even to herself that she didn’t want more from Darlington than his excellent mentorship.

“Do you remember Lan Caihe from the party last year?” he asked.

“Yeah, the goddess leader of the group, right? Some Chinese myth, 8 forms or something like that?”

He smiled just the smallest bit, “Yeah, I mean essentially yes. Anyway, remember what I told you about her? Lan Caihe is not deceived by glamor - she sees all things.”

“Right…” she was trying to follow but wasn’t keeping up with this.

“Lan Caihe will know I’m a demon now. She’ll see right through to it. And through to you, Wheelwalker.” 

A tiny thrill went through Alex at the name but she pushed it off. “What do we do about that?”

“Well…” he hesitated, looking away from her. It was then that Alex started to actually worry - oh this was bad. “I made a deal with Lan Caihe…so that she wouldn’t reveal to anyone the whole ya know ‘went to hell and now I’m a demon thing.’ I said I would partake in whatever…refreshments were served.”

Alex’s stomach went cold, “You can’t do that. Last year-“

“We can’t let anyone find out about what we did,” he cut her off before she could elaborate. “It’d be the end of Lethe, the end of us at Yale. It’s the only way. It’s done. I’ve come clean to Lan Caihe and now I have to finish the deal.” He tried to seem a little more lighthearted about it, “Maybe they’ll go easy on me. A little hallucinogenic or something.”

They both knew Manuscript wouldn’t go easy on him. Not after the trouble he gave them last year after the party, and the position he was in now. For the members of Manuscript, this party was about restoring their magic stores but also about entertainment. 

Alex didn’t know what to say.

“Come on,” Darlington started walking toward the party again. Alex followed a step behind, her heart beating in her chest. She thought again of Darlington on his knees before her, but also at his shame the next day when the Merity had worn off. He’d been through so much already this past year, she couldn’t let him do this to himself.

Alex kept her mouth shut, but she knew exactly what she had to do.

—————————————

Chapter 2

Upon arrival, the party looked much the same as it had last year. Drunken students in various states of dress danced and drank and let themselves revel in the freedom of a holiday all about disguise and deception.

Darlington nodded to Kate at the door and, as he did last year, adamantly declined the hand stamp she offered. He took Alex’s hand and pulled her through the front door - unwilling to let her out of his site for a moment.

His nerves were shot tonight - he was on edge and feeling protective. That probably would have been the case anyway after what happened last year, but now with his demon half and his um…commitment to Alex, he was on high alert. He pushed Alex ahead of him but kept a hold on her hand, doing his best to ignore the line where her black dress ended and her white thighs began.

They took a look around the first floor, not seeing anything suspicious, and made their way to the door that would take them below to the heart of Manuscript. His chest started to feel tight as they neared the door. Darlington, for once, had no idea what to expect. What they would have him take. He almost wished he didn’t have to bring Alex with him tonight so he could avoid a repeat of last year. Furthermore, the Merity they gave him last year had brought him to his knees, literally, as a human. He was more than human now, more dangerous, and was worried about his loss of control. His only consolation was the thought of Alex with her leash of blue hellfire around his neck - she’d controlled him before and he hoped she could do it again if the need arose.

He shook off thoughts of Alex with her leash and him on his knees - the party atmosphere must have been getting to him.

They began the descent and now that they were out of the crowd, Darlington let go of her hand. They past other floors as they did last year - something like the French Riviera, another a dark wet city street with a churning raging party, the obligatory orgy scene (“Excess,” Stern had called it last year) in a similar dimly lit but decadent cathedral as last year. One more floor down, and they had arrived.

This year’s gathering was a little more involved than he remembered from last Halloween. The room was made to look like the banquet hall of a castle, a long dark table filled with decadent food and drink stretching through the center of the room, leading up to the same two-story tall mirror from last year. Banners hung from the ceiling, elaborate tapestries hung along the stone walls. The whole room was lit by a candlelight chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling, casting deep shadows in the farthest corners. A quartet played music from one of the corners.

There were more people this year as well, dressed mostly in fine clothes, most of them wearing masks as well. Darlington always thought the masks gave this gathering a sinister air - people tend to be less trustworthy when they think you don’t know who they are.

The attendees were already drinking and deep in their merriment, though a few looked up as Alex and Darlington walked in. As usual, some scantily dressed students milled about with purple tongues, serving the guests food and drink and sometimes a few extra favors, as evidenced by a girl in a leotard covered in peacock feathers following a man into one of several semi-visible spaces cut out into the walls. They were small and dark but you could see the outlines of bodies moving within.

Before Darlington had a chance to say anything else to Alex, any more words of warning, this gathering’s Lan Caihe approached.

“Our guests of honor have arrived,” she said. “Lovely to see you both again.” Her white eyes stood out under the golden headdress and Darlington was reminded that she would be seeing them as they truly are - demon and wheelwalker.

“Yes well, as always we are grateful for the invitation. And for your, uh, discretion.” Darlington could feel Alex hovering at his elbow, tense but standing straight, trying to appear confident and collected. Out of the corner of her eye, he saw her glancing around, assessing the room.

Caihe smiled slyly. “Yes, discretion. I’m delighted that one of you will be partaking in our hospitality this year. Or perhaps both of you?” She directed this question at Alex.

“No-“ I started to say but was quickly interrupted by Alex who stepped forward in front of me.

“Actually, I’ll be the one participating,” she said to Caihe. “I’m assuming that will adequately fulfill the terms of the deal you made with Darlington?”

“What? Stern, no.” Darlington’s stomach dropped. Stupid, stubborn girl. 

But the women ignored him completely.

“Wonderful!” said Caihe. “Of course. We had planned for Darlington but this change of plans should be an unexpected…treat.”

Darlington didn’t know if Alex was picking up on it, but every word of that sentence felt incredibly loaded to him. He grabbed Alex elbow and pulled her aside, maybe more roughly than he’d meant to, while Caihe beckoned one of the acolytes over.

“Stern, what do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.

She spoke low and fast, “I can’t let you go through that again. Not after everything that’s happened over the last year. You were…you were so ashamed afterwards last time. I’ll be fine, just stay with me and don’t let me make an ass of myself.”

“Stern you can’t -“ she didn’t even let him finish, just turned back toward Caihe as the acolyte approached with a goblet on a tray. 

“As I said,” said Caihe, “we made this especially for Darlington tonight but I think given that you are both beneficiaries of the deal he struck, it’s only fair that you shall be allowed to take his place, Alex.” Caihe gestured toward the outstretched tray.

Alex picked up the goblet and examined the contents inside. Darlington stood mute, having no idea how to stop what was about to happen. He felt powerless.

“What’s in it?” she asked, looking up at Caihe’s golden headdress, her white eyes. Darlington noticed more and more attendees looking their way.

“I’m afraid that was not part of the deal,” Caihe smiled.

Alex turned her head and met Darlington’s eyes. She looked steely, determined, but he knew her well enough to see the trepidation hidden in there as well. Turning back to the goblet, she seemed to make decision and lifted it to her lips, drinking deeply until all the liquid was gone. She placed the goblet back on the tray and shook her shoulders out a bit.

Caihe just grinned, “Wonderful.”

Read the rest here on ao3!

[scattered-irises]

Part IV: Heart of Garnet

A prequel to the Dysonia AU. I’ve decided to click and drag characters from Star Girl and the Illusory Paradise and Vocaloid into here whoops

I tried my best to integrate them naturally 

Feel free to hate on this and petition the tumblr council to send me back to deviantart 

Also yeah Illusory Paradise has a character named Dr. Realist and we have a Dr. Faker. Funniest thing ever

Rating: General

Word Count: 2864

Characters: Christopher Arclight, Megurine Luka, Dr. Realist

Relationships: Christopher is infatuated with Luka but she’s already with Gackpo boo hoo

Warnings: Science fiction elements, character death

Summary: Long, long ago, the lone god once gazed out at the cosmos alongside a companion. 

“You're trying something new today,” notes Luka as she passes by Christopher. 

 Heat fills Christopher’s cheeks. He looks down at his coffee, filled with more cream and sugar than usual. Just like hers. 

 Mustering up a smile, Christopher wonders if Luka could see his blush. With how pale he was, he probably looked like a tomato to her. The thought makes his cheeks even hotter. 

 “Er, yes…black wasn’t doing it for me today,” he replies, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

 Luka chuckles, her blue eyes sparkling with laughter. Christopher notices that her favorite headband is askew. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her without it, the trusty hairpiece keeping her long pink hair out of her face. Christopher’s hands twitch, wishing he could stand up and correct it. 

 “I see. Hopefully it’s good!” she says. 

 “Megurine! Arclight! We’re here to save the world, not gossip!” interrupts their supervisor. 

 Luka gives Christopher a lopsided grin. She turns to the figure in the doorway and meets his single, uncovered eye with her sweet smile. 

 “Didn’t you know, Dr. Realist? Having an improved mood in the workplace leads to increased productivity!” notes Luka. 

 Dr. Realist rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. His monocle glints in the white light of the break room. 

 “You can laugh after today’s prototype testing,” he replies testily. “Now, come along. Don’t keep the others waiting.” 

 Exchanging smiles, Christopher picks up his coffee and walks down the laboratory’s halls with Luka. 

 The irony wasn’t lost on him that he had left a Dr. Faker for a Dr. Realist. Both men’s real names had been buried beneath their experiments, their nicknames sounding more real. Unlike Dr. Faker, Dr. Realist was far more whimsical. He enjoyed his coffee with seemingly half a cup of creamer in it and occasionally would break out with laughter at seemingly innocuous things. Once, Christopher even witnessed his new supervisor dancing in the rain. 

 Both men were eccentric in their own ways but shared the same passion towards saving humanity. However, they approached this in drastically different ways. 

 Because of his desire to uplift humanity on Earth, Dr. Faker had become far more popular than Dr. Realist. Determined to remain on Earth, Dr. Faker dedicated his research towards saving what they had left. Although he had often disparaged humans who were less intelligent than him in private, Dr. Faker was careful to maintain his public appearance. His focus on protecting the poor and investing in future generations quickly turned him into a beacon of hope. 

 From the beginning, Dr. Realist had expressed his doubts in saving the rapidly decaying planet. Often ignored, he was followed by only a small group of scientists. Proposing that humanity leave the Earth and build remote space colonies, Dr. Realist was quickly shunned by the scientific community. Despite his decades of research, he was continuously called a dreamer. To spite the community, he published his papers under the name ‘Dr. Realist.’ 

 Due to his history of being ignored, Dr. Realist wasn’t afraid of showing his distaste for humanity. ‘Piglets’ was his preferred term for ‘people.’ 

 Christopher follows Dr. Realist into the prototype room with a bit of satisfaction. 

 He had always followed Dr. Realist’s papers in secret. First as a joke, then as genuine curiosity. He wonders when he began to drift away from Dr. Faker’s papers. Perhaps it was even before he murdered his father. Dr. Faker’s papers were convoluted and nigh-unintelligible at times. Later on, Christopher would come to realize that they were full of promises for the future and optimistic outlooks on current-day situations. Dr. Realist’s papers presented tangible numbers regarding declining plant life and oxygen levels. His predictions about food insecurity and diseases had all eventually been correct. It was his proposals for the future that made him the laughingstock of the scientific community. 

 “Great science proves that exploring truths is justice. Unraveled history proves that justice without a power is unworthy!” cried Dr. Realist in one of the meetings where he was jeered at. 

 He tended to blurt out his catchphrase at random moments, startling his assistants. 

 As he watched crop failure after crop failure, pandemic after pandemic wash over humanity, Christopher began to doubt Dr. Faker’s promises and rewatched Dr. Realist’s maligned speeches with a deeper interest. The entire world couldn’t become Heartland City. 

 Regarding Dr. Faker’s city, his current supervisor despised even the mention of it. 

 “It’s nothing but a vulgar lie that’s bound to unravel someday,” he sneered when Christopher mentioned the divide between him and his family. 

 Now, seeing Dr. Realist’s prototype for the STELLA system, Christopher begins to catch a glimpse of his and Luka’s possible futures. 

 The full body chamber at first appeared no different than the healing pods used in Heartland City’s emergency rooms. It was the numerous wires that made all the difference. 

 “Wish me luck,” whispers Luka, her voice audible only to Christopher. 

 Warmth fills Christopher’s chest. The ends of her pink hair tickles his hand, leaving behind the smell of expensive shampoo. Too soon the smell fades, leaving behind only the cold, sterile smell of the laboratory. 

 Removing her lab coat, Luka hands it off to an assistant and steps into the pod made specifically for her. As she lays down, the wires automatically connect to various parts of her body, aided by her black bodysuit. Christopher watches as the pod closes and the aerated gel rises around Luka’s body. Through the glass, she gives everyone a smile before her eyes flutter shut. 

 Silence. The room remains dark, yet the atmosphere is thick with anticipation. Christopher’s heartbeat skips a beat as Luka’s eyes move beneath her eyelids. A part of him wishes he could hold her hand, her nails always painted a cheerful light blue. 

 She was the first person that had welcomed him to Dr. Realist’s lab. Apparently, she had been drawn to Christopher’s abnormally long hair that was styled similarly to hers. They’ve exchanged beauty tips every once in a while, but their conservations always drift back to mundane talk. 

 Or was it soul searching?

 Luka felt as if she understood the loneliness that Christopher had experienced. The sensation of being surrounded by so many, yet unable to make any meaningful connections anywhere…He could feel it in her rare sighs and gentle voice. Once, when they were leaving on a late night, they had both looked up at the sky and made the same comment. 

 “It’s so hard to see the stars with this damn moon.”

 They had looked at each other in shock and then shared a good laugh. 

 The words have nestled in Christopher’s heart like a treasured pearl. He runs through that moment repeatedly on lonely nights. 

 But he knows it’s impossible—the possibility of him and Luka being romantically involved. Before he had arrived at the lab, Luka was already engaged to a kabuki actor who went by the stage name Gackpo. Even in the experimental pod she kept her engagement ring on. Christopher can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy every time he sees the silver ring. 

 “He’s so thoughtful! It has my birthstone and flower!” she had said, showing Christopher the ring once he had asked about it. 

 The ring featured a snowdrop with a garnet in the middle. He had looked up which month the garnet belonged to afterwards. January. He hasn’t asked when in January because he wasn’t sure if they were close enough yet. 

 The sound of electrical humming jolts Christopher from his memories. The room’s lights turn on, followed by the computers around them. Excited murmurs fill the room as readings of Luka’s vitals fill the screen. The largest screen then flickers to life. Christopher’s heart soars as WELCOME TO STELLA appears across the screen. 

 Success, whispers a voice in his head as Luka activates the small sprinkler system.  Success. Christopher raises his face towards the miniature rain shower. The beginning of the end. 

 ����

 It was official. They would be part of the first wave of colonies. Christopher lingers by the side of the breakroom’s door, watching Luka’s back. She was alone in the breakroom, hunched over her coffee. From the smell, he could tell that it was black. She was toying with her engagement ring, the garnet dulled after years of experiments and everyday wear. 

 “Have you told him?” asks Christopher as he approaches Luka. 

 She looks up at Christopher, a tight smile on her lips. 

 “Of course. He was prepared for this. And you?”

 A brief call. Nothing else. He couldn’t bear to return home and witness the lesions on his loved ones’ skins. When he thinks of the barren earth, wilted flowers and sickness that plagued Heartland, it only makes him wish that they were here with him. If only they had jumped ship before the water had reached their necks. Instead, they were stubborn on reviving something that had died ages ago. 

 “Yes. We didn’t have much to say. They knew what I would eventually be doing,” replies Christopher.

 Luka’s gaze returns to her ring. She twists it back and forth, letting out a wistful sigh. 

 “I wanted it to work. Truly. To settle down with him and maybe start a family. But…a part of me always knew that was just a fantasy.”

 Christopher looks at Luka. He takes in her pale skin, sunken eyes and blotchy face. She was so beautiful. He couldn’t explain it, but the loneliness in her expression felt like looking into the night sky at times. Vast. Deep. Although he looked at the stars, he knew that millions of light years away, most of them had already died. Despite that, he loved looking at their long-gone visages. 

 “I was one of Dr. Realist’s first assistants. I have to see this through the end,” she continues, mustering a weak smile. “Up there, they’ll call me Stella. What about you?” 

 “V,” murmurs Christopher, the old nickname strange on his tongue.

 He is no longer the lost and desperate 20-year old that carried that name. At 45, he supposes he’s old enough to know better. 

 “V…,” echoes Luka.

 Christopher sits down beside Luka. His blood roars through his ears. Her shoulders rise and fall with each breath she takes. Throughout the seven years he’s known her, it feels as if she hasn’t aged a bit. 

“I hope our colonies are close,” she murmurs, placing a hand on Christopher’s. “It’d be nice to have someone to watch the stars with for eternity.”

 Christopher fights the burning in his cheeks. He’s come to terms with the fact that they’d never be more than coworkers, whether on Earth or in space. Still, the hand was enough for him to last a lifetime. Maybe even two. 

 “I hope so too,” he says. 

 🟔

 He watches as Luka’s pod is closed for the final time, the glass melting shut with the steel cradle of the case. Luka’s eyes have misted over as her mind slowly connected to her distant colony. In a few hours, her body will be transported towards her eternal resting place. Soon, the memory of their conversations and her smile will be all he’ll have of her.

 He tells himself not to despair. At least their colonies will be close. 

 🟔

 Their conversations have continued. The only change is that they have eternity to talk. Buried deep within their daily calculations, vitals reports and watching over their humans, their conversations are exchanged via 0s and 1s. 

 Even though they are light years away, they still have to mind their distance. Their new hearts were highly reactive to one another, pulsing with endless amounts of energy. And so they take turns, edging their cores away from one another to sneak in a whisper or two. Anything to remind them that they were once flesh and blood instead of circuitry floating in the void of space. 

 They talk about the cyclical nature of things. Of reincarnation and recycling. Seeing the faces of their loved ones reflected in their inhabitants. The resemblance is only skin-deep, of course. Their original memories are no longer there. Still, those reincarnations are comforting to look upon. So is each other’s presence, even though they are slowly being pulled apart by the cosmic fabric of the universe. 

 And so time languidly passes on like this, their conversations unintelligible to everyone but themselves. Memories blur. Images fade. They help restore each other’s fading memories to the best of their abilities.  

 An old memory floats up into Christopher’s mind. He passes it to Luka, who adds to it. 

 “System rot?” Christopher had asked during the Stella colony’s construction.

 Luka looked up at the clear blue sky, as if she could peer lightyears ahead at her new body. 

 “It’s when a ‘god’ completely forgets their humanity. That’s when the colony system is deemed unfit,” she said quietly. 

 “Then what?”

 “A dystopic existence for the humans aboard. Or, the ‘god’ simply collapses,” replied Luka. 

 “It’s all theory though, isn’t it?” asked Christopher.

 Luka shrugged. 

 “It’s my theory. We saw it once out of the ten thousand simulations with the human brains we had on hand.”

 “For something like this, shouldn’t you have conducted more tests?” 

 Luka gave Christopher a small smile. 

 “It’s very hard for Dr. Realist to get his hands on a brain these days.” 

 There was a tank in the back of the lab that stood as a reminder of Dr. Realist’s very first tests. A human brain floated in the darkened liquid, suspended by various wires. He had always wondered who it had belonged to before landing in Dr. Realist’s hands. 

 Overtime, the ‘gods’ learned of each other’s families and attempted to piece together what they looked like once the other’s memory began to fade. 

 Miku? queried Luka.

  Teal hair. Bright eyes. Bubbly. Loves her negi. Little sister, replied Christopher.

 Michael? he asked. 

 Pink, brown hair. Green, ovoid eyes. Gentle. Surrounded by history. Youngest brother, said Luka after a brief delay. 

 On and on their conversations went, seemingly stretching into the abyss of eternity. They would try to communicate with other colonies but would never have as equally interesting exchanges. As the colonies began to pull further and further away from each other, communications grew increasingly sparse until there was nothing but static. Christopher felt them blink out of existence with a small twinge in his heart. However, as long as he had Luka, he was content.

 Until she begins to spout nonsense. In the middle of sentence, a series of garbled 0s and 1s would suddenly interrupt her. She stops moving her core away from Christopher, the pulsating waves of energy almost painful for him to intercept. 

 At first, he thought that the distance between them was becoming too great and that communication was slowly being distorted by other waves. Then the waves from her come in rapid pulses, each one increasingly abnormal. 

 CAN’T REMEMBER, she once screamed to him. 

 The rest of her message was garbled. 

 NAME. VOID. VOID? A sea of zeroes. Nothing but zeroes, like a mouth open in a scream only V could hear. 

 System rot, whispered a voice deep within Christopher. 

 His panels trembled, the closest sensation he had to fear. 

 He keeps her last coherent words to him under lock and key. Firewall after firewall. Layer after layer. Something he has tried to delete from his memory but can’t ever truly remove it from his mind. 

 I CAN’T GIVE ALL OF THEM HAPPINESS. 

 And buried beneath those words are her final screams, the screams of a dying colony and her breaking heart. 

 He knows she’s out there somewhere, a darkened husk of broken metal surrounded by the remains of a once-great star. One day she will be all alone, floating in a void of nothingness, the star still stubbornly clutched in her chest. Then, someday the star will explode, scattering her remains throughout the void. Yet her cries for help from eons ago will continue to travel across the universe, deteriorating just like she was. Far out enough, they will distort into unintelligible static. The static will then continue its lonely journey across the universe, begging for anyone to come and decipher its increasingly garbled sounds. 

 For now, someone on a distant colony can still see Stella’s star, brilliantly shining on despite the husk of the colony that was wrapped around it. 

 Would they still think that the star was beautiful once they discovered that it was held in a corpse’s chest? 

 Would they look at her like how Dysonia’s god had once lovingly stared up at the stars?

 Would they mourn?

 Would they cry?

 Sing little songs about her?

 Search for her real name, which was L—

 V tries not to dwell on Stella too much. 

 After all, it happened millennia ago. 

 Still, on lonely nights, he will run through his memories with her on Earth. The images grow foggier by the century. Despite the blurry faces and distant words exchanged, the memories never fail to spark a bit of warmth in his systems. 

Anything, anything to remind him that he was once human, just like the beings that live and die on his panels. Anything to ward off his loneliness.

[soft-for-them]

Locker confessions - Argyle x plus size reader

Summary: Hungover from the night before you try to avoid the gaze of the boy you kissed whilst thinking about your crush Argyle.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/n: I love Argyle, protect him.

You slump on the row of red lockers as you watch the people go by still clad in party attire from the night before.

You try to hide yourself with the open locker door from the scathing looks from the blonde cheerleader who you cock blocked the night before. That same cheerleader who is currently being held back by her boyfriend from starting a fight with you, her big old dagger eyes burning into your skull, her manicured hands gripping her bleached hair like a teenager with image issues would.

Your friend, a lanky girl who plays softball and is also in the school band scoots on over to you her glasses askew and her hair still smelling like apple sours and open beer cans.

Amy, in all her sporty nerd glory, wears her bright red softball hoodie with the school’s mascot sprawled across the chest along with a pair of muddied sports trainers that were once stuffed in the back of her locker long forgotten until now.

You can tell she probably either stayed at the party way after you left or was super sneaky for once in her life, getting in and out her second floor bedroom without her mother finding out and telling her off.  That woman will go mad once she realises her daughter went to another party, if she doesn’t already know because being grounded for buying weed off Argyle, the guy you’re totally not crushing over, got her two weeks grounded.

Amy had the good idea to change into her sports uniform instead of walking around school in a red slinky mini dress and high heels unlike you who’s still dresses in your party attire. Whilst the dress you’re wearing isn’t so mini and you’re wearing your old trusted black boots, the shiny black satin like fabric and the low cut scream ‘party dress’.

“(Y/n), stop moping about we have a big problem!” she whisper yells to you as she looks up to your dishevelled form.

You hair is such a mess that you had to just pull it back with a headband making you look like a crazy art teacher who stuffs pencils in their hair along with the very oversized zip up Hurley hoodie, that is also in a ghastly aqua green, it’s the best attempt by you to cover up.

 “What, that half the school is hung over? Or that I’m going to have blondie following me around for like a week giving me the evils?”

“No!” she grabs your arm pulling you away from the safety of the locker door, “Look past every girl who’s jealous of you pretty face and look!”

She leans backwards rather comically, her head peeking out from the locker door along with you.

You look past other teenagers hungover and tired, the bunch of popular kids who look ready to vomit in the nearest rubbish bin standing out in the crowd. You also avoid eye contact with that one kid you went on a date with when you were thirteen only for him to stand you up at the last minute because you were ‘to big’ to be dated.

You look and look with squinted eyes only to see the one and only Mister popular himself in all his surfer dude blonde hair and tanned body glory staring right at you both, well more like he’s looking right at you with predator like eyes.

“Fuck. No. I’m not dealing with this today.” You mutter as you look away the sudden memory of last night coming back.

You fucking cock blocked ye old blondie from fucking him.

If you remember correctly you had drunk so many glasses of wine from a box that when Mister popular kissed you suddenly, joke or not, you kissed back.

Truly, he was pleasantly surprised at how good you kissed considering that he came over as a joke to tease the fat girl, now the toned surfer has the hots for you, and yes whilst you’re plenty hot having the attention of that guy that brings along a whole lot of trouble.

Exhibit A, Little Miss popular who wanted to woo him.

“I don’t like him!” you whisper yell in a more panicked voice.

“I know (y/n) but he’s looking.” Amy turns around to try and sneakily look at him but she only ends up looking directly at him.

She puts up her hand and waves.

“Amy!” you shove her hand down and retreat back behind the locker door, “He’s going to try and fuck me, I don’t want that, I don’t want to be another trophy win.”

“Well don’t fuck him then.”

“I won’t, he’ll just carry on trying by bugging me, he did the same with Kelly Smith!”

You see teenage boys regardless if there legally adults or still children have a tendency to get annoyed at not getting what they want, with Mr popular (his name escapes you head because you honestly don’t care for him at all) is the type of guy who’ll chase any girl who gives him an ounce of attention, so considering you drunkenly kissed him now he’s going to think that you want to fuck him.

You don’t want to fuck him.

You want to fuck Argyle.

“I don’t want to fuck him at all.” You begin, your voice getting a bit louder but not loud enough that passers-by can hear, “I was drunk, he was drunk, he was being a dick, I was just a bit horny. Drunk kisses happen Amy, you should know, you’ve drunk kissed half the Softball squad-“

Normally when you being to rant nerves also bubble up, your words become rushed and you normally say something you end up regretting.

“- sorry –“ you apologise for bringing it up.

“Nah, all good.” Amy brushes it off, her eyes wondering behind you.

“- anyway if I was going to fuck anyone I don’t want to fuck him, I want to fuck Argyle for fuck sake!”

Face flushed warm and you outburst over you look at Amy who has paused mid breath, he eyes wide and still looking behind you.

“What?” you urge.

“Morning Argyle.” Amy stammers out her face scrunching up in second hand embarrassment.

You feel like crawling into your locker and pulling the door closed, it’s not possible considering your plus size and the fact your locker is small and square rather than a full length locker, but the feeling is still there.

Instead you bang you head on your locker door, your sight looking down in utter horror.

Argyle, shocked but with a growing Cheshire cat grin on his face, bends down trying to catch your eyes his face getting closer to yours as he does.

In your peripheral vision you can see him.

That handsome face, the long dark hair drooping down as his hand goes to your shoulder.

Amy steps back from the scene. She’s close enough that she can bail you out of the mess but really she just wants to stand and watch like it’s the newest movie.

Really the woman has been routing for you and Argyle to get together for the longest time.

There’s a reason she always takes you to Sufer Boy Pizza instead of Pizza Hut and that’s because Argyle always gives you discounted pizza. From day one when you were sixteen and Argyle saw you for the first time Amy knew that he fancied you.

The idea of you two together makes her so happy; the discounted pizza and good weed is just a bonus.

“Hey dude.” Argyle says as he finally catches your brilliant (colour) eyes, you face a flush and his eyes filled with what you can only call is utter admiration.

“…Hi…” you don’t move from you slump but you keep looking.

“So, you want to fuck me?”

A way to get to the point. Him saying that makes you feel icky because you don’t want him to think that you just was to have sex with him, you want to kiss all over his face, you want to hold his hand, you want to take him silly little dates, you want to be his.

“I-I, well-” you voice has turned croaky and you feel like running away to the nearest bathroom and crying, “-not just that, well I- fuck, I like like you Argyle.”

His smile does not falter it somehow get bigger and as you rise, ready to bolt, he says a sentence that shatters your world.

“Me to (y/n/n).”

Right then and there the shards of glass fall on the floor just like you do, a bit dramatic yes, but the man you like saying he likes you back mixed with a banging hangover makes you crouch on the ground and hyperventilate.

“You do?” you ponder out loud as Argyle crouches down to your level with concern but still somehow all smiles.

“Ever since I first met you.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

“Thank fuck.” You say as your tackle him into a giant hug, a big chunk of his luscious hair tickling your nose and his long arms wrapping around your plush waist.

The stupid party and even stupider kiss from the night before is forgotten, hopefully you’ll get a better kiss from Argyle, but for now hugging on the floor on the high school’s hallway as everyone looks on will suffice.

[guqin-and-flute]

Excerpt from Xiyao WIP, tentative title ‘When Silk Flowers Bloom’

--

A full night’s sleep certainly seems to do Lan Xichen good. 

Meng Yao is familiar with Nie Huaisang’s rumpled morning appearance, slogging from his room at whatever hour pleases, hair askew and face night-creased. But seeing the impeccable Zewu-jun sway upright with bed head is a strangely delightful sight. His eyes are soft and dark and present when he sees Meng Yao filling a simple wooden tub by the fire, steam rising. “I’m...what time is it?” His voice is deep, morning-rough.

“Near noon, Lan-zongzhu.”

The vulnerable look of shock softens his face further and he reaches up compulsively to his forehead. When his fingers meet his headband, he stops, tension seeping out of his shoulders and into his expression. “Ah. I’m not used to such hours. I’m sorry I slept so long.”

Meng Yao shakes his head. “You’ve been healing. There’s nothing you need to be doing, so why not rest?”

In return, Lan Xichen also shakes his head, slower. “I don’t...I haven’t slept in since...I’m not sure I’ve ever slept in.”

There is no one here who will enforce the Lan sleep schedule on you, stays prudently locked behind Meng Yao’s lips. Instead, he looks at where Lan Xichen’s fingers still rest on his headband. “I didn’t touch it,” he assures him, quietly. “I removed your guan, but that’s all. I...didn’t think you would be very comfortable with it on.”

 Knowledge is power and so he knows the Lan Clan’s particulars. There is no value in invading such a sacred boundary at this point--though a part of Meng Yao had wanted to secretly clean out the soot smudge that still lay against Lan Xichen’s temple like a bruise on the fabric before he woke and saw it. Nothing would have been gained and plenty could have been lost, so he hadn’t.

“...Thank you. I’m sorry.”

He makes sure to smile. “Zewu-jun, you don’t need to apologize. I’m happy to help.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes raise at that and meet his own and, for a moment, the snap of the fire is the only sound in the small cabin. He doesn’t know what Lan Xichen is looking for, but he allows him his search, standing still with the dripping bucket in his hands, steam curling against his knuckles. In fact, he does some of his own looking--the heavy silken sweep of Lan Xichen’s hair over his palms when he removed the spikey guan had been intimate in the darkness of the cabin. The man had already been asleep when he had done it, and Meng Yao hadn’t lingered. But now, loose and long, it falls about his cheekbones, some crunched up in the back, some fuzzed about his ears. It sits oddly next to an expression so...remote. His very presence radiates dignity and solemnity, making mussed hair and crumpled robes the new standard of Clan Leader uniform with no effort whatsoever. 

Whatever Lan Xichen finds in him is unclear but he does look away, down to the tub at Meng Yao’s feet. “Oh.”

“I thought you might want to wash up, so I’ve heated some water. While you bathe, I was going to go get you some proper robes--they won’t be very fine, so I apologize. My resources are a bit thin at the moment.” He dips his head in polite embarrassment.

But Lan Xichen rises and shakes his head, approaching. “It’s no trouble, I’m sure whatever you bring will be fine. I appreciate it.”

With his nearness, his bed warmed clothes bring a gentle waft of smoke and concentrated Lan Xichen--a mixture of sandalwood and warm man that fills Meng Yao’s throat when he makes the mistake of opening his mouth to breathe. It crowds his lungs in a heady delight that dizzies him a moment. 

Oh.

Shit.

Thankfully, Lan Xichen is turning away, searching for something and doesn’t catch the lapse as Meng Yao steadies himself and asks, “Are you alright?”

“Shuoyue...?”

“Oh, yes, I cleaned it this morning, it’s by the headboard. Your qiankun pouch is there on the table, with your hair piece.” 

With his back still to him, Lan Xichen murmurs, “You’ve truly thought of everything. I can’t say thank you enough.”

I don’t want your gratitude. I want you to smile at me again, flits, unruly, through his mind and he dismisses it.

“There is no need. Here; I’ll leave you to your privacy.”

The sight of those nimble fingers sliding into his waist sash leaves Meng Yao pressed against the door several moments after he’s closed it, staring into the sun drenched meadow. 

No. No, this is not useful.

[wordynerdygurl]

A Wonderful Christmastime

Author’s Note:  Well Hello All!  I hope that you’re all taking care of yourselves and staying well!  My tag-list is open and you know I love the validation of reblogs, shares, tags and adds!! I have been working on a larger OC story which has kept my from my Loki writings, but I entered a challenge posted by @toomanystoriessolittletime​ for the Christmas holiday.  If you aren’t following, please do as she’s got a great little Advent Calendar of seasonal stories for you!  One a day through the month of December!  

I chose a prompt based off of my least favorite Christmas song.  Ever.  Like in the history of humanity.  Like, my family torture me with it because of how much I dislike it.  This story is a chance to take a little lighthearted revenge on Sir Paul McCartney and also, hopefully, help you all enjoy a Wonderful Christmastime!   Also, isn’t this gif the cutest thing in the world?  My thanks to the OP and creator for it... it’s amazing and I love Christmas Loki!! Pairing:  Female Reader x Loki

Summary:  Everyone has a favorite holiday song... when Loki learns which one you dislike, he uses it to his advantage. Warnings:  Christmas holiday mentions, SMUT, Oral (F receiving) and MF Sex, also, the over use of a certain song that makes me, personally, crazy!

This was it.  That perfect moment when all of the holiday hustle was behind you.  Nothing to buy, nothing to ship, nothing to wrap, nothing to bake.  It was all over.  You had made it through another Christmas Eve.

Your well decorated tree sat in the corner, presents tucked below for you and Loki in the morning.  The frittata was resting in the fridge along with the two bottles of Prosecco you planned to have with brunch.  Hell, it was the holidays, after all.

But that was for tomorrow.

Tonight you were relaxing after an afternoon of family Christmas fun.  Nieces and nephews, piles of shredded paper, stacks of snacks and so much laughter your belly muscles were sore.  And through it all Loki had been a champ! Holding your hand, rubbing the small of your back, pulling out your chair; Loki had put the other partners to shame.  Whether he was telling bawdy but tasteful jokes to the men who drank cheap beer around the TV, sharing hair care tips with your sister’s oldest girl or whispering with your mom in the kitchen, he was always where he needed to be.  For the first time in ages, you had been able to enjoy the day fully, and you knew Loki was the reason why. After getting home, trading your dress and boots for comfy shorts and a sweatshirt, you padded into the living room.  Loki was there, sitting cross legged, digging through your bag of swag.  He had put seasonal music on in the background while munching through a plate of Auntie’s sugar cookies, two well poured goblets of red wine waiting to be had at his side.  God, he was good. “Is one of those for me?”  You couldn’t help smiling.  Loki, looking like a little kid, over excited and surrounded by all the trapping of Christmas just felt so precious. It took him a moment to reply as he was solely focused on the handmade puzzle box your mother had crafted for all the guys this year, “Hmm?  Yes… one’s for you…” Kissing the top of his head, careful not to dislodge his Rudolf blinking antler headband, a gift to Loki from your youngest nephew, you moved towards the couch.  Sipping from your glass of wine, snuggled under the softest chenille blanket your sister-in-law could find, you sighed contentedly.  Victory over the holiday season felt amazing.  Now all that was left on your to-do list was eating, drinking, and enjoying alone time with Loki until New Year’s.  Suddenly exhausted, you felt the lovely warm drag of drowsiness and snuggled deeper into the sofa.  Shuttering your tired eyes, you listened as Loki stood up, off to hunt up some more food, no doubt.  Visions of sugarplums danced in your head as you started to succumb to a sweet slumber. That’s when you heard it.  

“The moon is right, The spirit’s up, We’re here tonight and that’s enough…” Groaning, wide awake now, you sat up with a shout, “Loki?!”  Like magic his raven head popped around the doorframe, his reindeer antlers askew, a candy cane hanging out of his mouth, “Yes?”

“Um… question:  What are we listening to?” Stepping back into the living room, his new holiday flannel shirt open at the neck, Loki leaned over you, husking playfully,  “Music.  At least, that’s what I believe you Midgardians call it.” “Ha ha.  Yes, I know it’s music, but this particular song?”  You couldn’t keep the tartness from your tone as you pressed your nose into the handsome one on Loki’s face. Pausing, listening intently, Loki cocked his head to the side.  Singing along, his bells jingling, “Simply having a Wonderful Christmastime!” “Ugh.  That’s what I was afraid of!”  Flinging a hand over your eyes, you grumbled, burrowing back into the cozy couch as a means of blocking out the obnoxious noise of the worst holiday song in the history of humanity. Making himself comfortable at your feet, pouring himself another glass of vino, “I like it.  It’s simple.  Direct.  What are you doing?  Me?  I’m simply having a wonderful Christmastime!” From deep in the cushions, muffled but forceful, you pleaded, “Make it stop!  Please!” “What for?  It is still Christmastime, is it not?  And we are enjoying a wonderful time, aren’t we?” Turning back to face him, a Scrooge-like scowl on your suddenly serious face, “I’ll do anything to get you to turn that off.” That got his attention, “Anything?”  Sitting up quickly, you reached for your blanket only to feel Loki snatching it out of your grasp, “You said anything, darling.” Tugging on the plush fabric, practically pouting, “You’re not going to take my new fluffy blankie, are you?” “Oh no.  That’s not nearly enough to stop me from playing my favorite Christmas carol.”

“It’s your favorite, now?  Loki, you just heard it.” Waving your gripes away, pinning you under his arms and under your blanket, “I love it.  It’s my favorite.  You can’t mess with perfection.”

You wiggled, trying to free an arm or a hand, anything to help defend yourself from Loki’s soft, but effective attack, "Perfection?  Loki, it's awful."

"I disagree.  But…”  Brushing a gentle kiss to your captive lips, making you melt into his warm touch, Loki made sure to keep you immobile.  Unraveling under his ardent attention, you gave up fighting, focusing on Loki’s roving hands through the protective layer of your new throw.  

Lost in his lips, you ignored the wretched recording still spinning, until sitting back with a sly smile Loki continued, “Regardless of my newly acquired antlers, I am a reasonable man.  I'm willing to hear your side of things.  Convince me, dove."

Looking up at him through your lashes, licking over your bottom lip that tasted of Loki's peppermint, it took you a moment to refocus on your argument.  Sighing doggedly, “It’s just garbage.  Too sweet, too synth-pop.  It’s plastic.  There’s no substance to it.”

At least Loki did you the service of considering your answer.  He paused, listening to the offending tune, starting to hum along once more.  “I don’t know.  It sounds like church bells ringing.  And I like when the kids start singing!”

“You couldn't.  Those are two of the worst things about it!  There’s not a single redeemable factor in it’s trite,  super saccharine, four minute run time.”  Agitated now and edging into anger, your voice kept rising, spurned on by the inability to get away from Loki’s plush prison, “Also, get off me!” “Can’t do it.  But-” nuzzling into your neck, tasting along the tendon there, “-I can replay this song.”  “That’s it!”  Fury tinted your words as you tried harder than ever to break free of your fleece prison but Loki was brick heavy, unmovable, and impossibly giddy at your predicament.  All things which only added fuel to your fire.  Wriggling like mad, struggling to kick a foot free, you squirmed desperately for leverage.  His response?  A deep chuckle, “Is that all you’ve got, darling?”  Laying those long, lanky bones on top of you, holding down the throw’s corners in a way that made fighting futile, Loki smirked at your distress, “I still don’t see why you hate it so much.  It is a simple song because we’re simply having a wonderful Christmastime!  It’s in the title after all.” With cheeks hot from exertion, fully frustrated and forced to listen to Paul McCartney’s bland holiday ballad start a second time, you nearly shrieked, "I hate it, Loki!  Loathe it, really!  The lyrics are basic, the keyboard is tinny, and Sir Paul is better than that!” “Is that all?” “No!  It's even worse when someone else sings it, like those kids from Glee or an up and coming Country artist making their first holiday record!"

Beneath the blanket your chest rose and fell with bothered breaths.  From rubbing against the couch your hair stuck up in odd angles and you could feel heat rising off your neck.  How had you gone from almost asleep to a blanket related battle royale?  Loki, taking advantage of your confinement, kissed your forehead sweetly, and the change in tactic caught you off guard.  His lips grazed the tip of your nose as you huffed out a pout, eager to see where his mischief making would lead.  Pressing his forehead to yours, that deep sonorous voice whispering lowly for your ears alone, "Not a compelling enough argument for me to turn it off, I'm afraid." And to your holiday horror the song in question started again.  Grousing, "Don’t play it again!  Please!  I’m begging you!” “Already begging darling?”  Thick with mocking, Loki slotted himself between your thighs, keeping you from fighting back with any power. Whining full out now, poking out your bottom lip, “Come on!  Please, let me up and turn this off!” “Why, of course, my pearl.”  With no effort on his part, Loki scooped you up, blankie and all, pulling you tightly to his chest.  Gripping your bottom, his fingers firm through the cotton of your pj pants, he squeezed hard enough for you to yelp. “Hey!”  But that’s all you managed before his talented tongue invaded your mouth.  Now the only thing you could hear was the shaky exhale of your shared sighs and your own needy mewls when Loki started to withdraw.

Godly hands drew your thick and comfy sweatshirt over your head, leaving you bare against the cuddly softness of your new blanket, a perfect dichotomy to the heated hardness of Loki’s chest.  With your arms finally free you tangled your hands in the long tresses of your lover, distracted from the awful music by his groan, “Easy darling.” But now that the tables were tipped in your favor, you had no intention of going easy on Loki.  Not after his antics tonight, not a chance.  Tugging hard enough for him to wince, you ground against his lap with a nip to his neck, “Turn it off then.”

“Now, why would I do that?  Aren’t we still enjoying a Wonderful Christmastime?” Bouncing in his lap, purposefully teasing your mischief maker with a smirk, “We were until you let this terrible song play!” Laughing heartily, Loki stroked over your bare shoulder, one hand resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek.  “If I wanted to, my darling, I could change your mind.  I could make you adore this song.” “Is that so, Odinson?  I doubt it.”

“Doubt me?  On this, Christmas Eve!  When you know the feelin’s here that only comes once a year?” A confident nod was all he got for an answer.  In a flash you were laying on the soft rug, your legs wrapped over Loki’s and your new blanket tossed to the side.  Fiery kisses to your chest and neck led him to the shell of your ear where he hummed hungrily, “The moon is right, the spirits up…” Enjoying his mouth but not his music, you shoved against his shoulders, panting, “Don’t sing, just kiss me.” Licking into your mouth, Loki’s tongue obliged your need as his hands skated over the curve of your hip, breaking your kiss to croon, “We’re here tonight, dove… and that’s enough.”

“Loki… please stop…”  You fisted his shirt, pulling at the buttons until his muscular torso was under your fingers, strong and solid.  Pushing the plaid cotton off his shoulders, you let your nails drag over Loki’s naked back as you shifted your hips, subtlety be damned. He took the hint.  Nipping a trail over your tummy, Loki kept his eyes on yours as he shucked your shorts, snorting, “No panties?  Naughty!” “If that’s naughty, Loki, then what you’re doing to me is positively evil.” That made your lover grin, his eyebrows lifting in a wickedly Grinchy smile before caressing the inner skin of your thigh with his clever mouth.  Slithering closer to your center, sweeping his tongue in swirls, you couldn’t help the excited shiver he created.  It was enough to block out the terrible song now that you had something more arousing to hold your attention. Using those long, deft fingers, Loki parted your folds with a murmured moan, “You’re so wet, darling.  Maybe you like this song more than you let on?” A curse for him and his rotten taste in Christmas music died in your throat as Loki connected to your sacred skin through a carnal kiss.  Those strong forearms ensured that your knees stayed open wide as his tongue tasted, teasing your clenching cleft, humming with appreciation at your body’s response.  Circling your clit, sucking gently before changing direction and licking your lower lips once more, Loki had you teetering on the cliff of climax in minutes.

Your stomach tensed, ready for release.  Delicious waves of orgasmic bliss were pulsing through you, needing just a touch more friction, a little more pressure in order to crash over you.  Gasping out incoherent whimpers, fingers ruffling Loki’s dark hair, you can’t fight the neediness that he’s created in you. It just feels so incredible, something Loki knows you’re enjoying, “Like that, darling?” Passion clouds your vision as your desire crests, unfulfilled, “You know I do, Loki…” Fingers slide sensually through your slit, his bright eyes on you, “How much?  How much do you like it?” Shaking your head, still foggy with needs unmet, “So much, baby.  I love making love to you so much.” Bumping against your swollen bud, pressing down firmly, Loki begins using his hands to entice you towards ecstasy.  Two fingers enter you easily, delightful, sure, but not as filling as Loki’s hard member.  Reaching for him, you want to lose yourself in loving and being loved by your space god, “Sing for me, dove.” Beseeching you breathlessly, Loki’s hand stills, keeping you at the fringe of falling apart.  Waiting for your reply impatiently he asks again, “Sing, please.” “A song?” His reply is a shake of his dark head.  Slowly, smoothly, Loki withdraws his fingers, only to press them into your yielding flesh once more, “Yes, my darling.  Sing my favorite song!”

Sucking a bruise onto your inner thigh, those fingers of his spreading your walls, the exquisite pressure on your straining clitoris.  Any one of these distractions would have been hard to concentrate through.  Experiencing them all together?  Overwhelming.

And that’s the excuse you would use to explain what happened next.  “The party’s on… The feeling’s here…” As soon as the words left your lips, Loki’s attention resumed in earnest, “That’s it, dove!  Keep going!” “That only comes, this time of year… Ah!  Loki!” Loki watched you lustily.  Your eyes half closed, legs splayed lewdly, a nervous grin on your face.  He never wanted you more.  Slipping out of his jeans, wasting no time, Loki guided his hardened cock into you with a satisfying sigh. Your response to his abundance?  “Oh shit, Loki!  Yes!”  Snapping his hips against your pelvis, iron banded arms clinging to you, Loki stuttered, “I don’t hear you singing!” “We’re simply having a Wonderful Christmastime!”  How many times did you repeat the chorus?  Hard to say.  It became a mantra.  A thing to chant in time with everyone of Loki’s deliberate and deep thrusts. This time, when you felt the familiar stirring of your satisfaction, Loki didn’t stop you.  Encouraging you with a soulful kiss, his stroke surging in time with Paul McCartney’s crooning, you came apart in each other’s arms with a smile.  The song started again and you couldn’t stop the giggles from bursting out of you, “What’s so funny, dove?” “You said you could make me like this terrible, horrible, awful song.” Sitting up and taking you with him, Loki chuckled as he kissed your hand, “Hey, don’t make fun of the best holiday song I have ever heard.”  Pulling your new blanket around the both of you, “I still hate it, but-”

“But?”, his eyebrow arched in surprise, waiting for you to continue.

“But I don’t hate it as much.” Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, playfully ribbing you, “Do I have to force you into having another Wonderful Christmastime?” Biting your bottom lip, you returned the favor by sweeping a stray lock of Loki’s black hair over his shoulder, “Babe, you could make crazy, insane love to me each day and every night… and-” “And?”  Kissing Loki lightly on the nose, you stood up on shaky legs and started towards the hallway.  At the entry way you turned back letting the blanket fall to the floor, “-And Wonderful Christmastime would still suck.”  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To My Many Minxes:  @toomanystoriessolittletime @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @iamverity @mizfit2 @sammy-jo1977 @wolfsmom1 @jessiejunebug @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @procrastinatinglikeabitch @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @alexakeyloveloki @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @jenjen8675309 @that-one-person @roguewraith

[oytnp-moved]

Just a little thing I was inspired to write by this post

also here's the song i had stuck in my head while writing it because of the painting im working on irl :)

TL;DR fully grown man calvin f.ischoeder makes a nuisance of himself because his spouse is trying to paint instead of kissing him

Griffin startled as a glass of water entered their vision. They stared at it for a moment, uncomprehending, until it jiggled slightly, ice cubes tinkling against the sides.

"Oh." They slid their paintbrush to sit between their middle and ring fingers and accepted the glass gingerly, taking an automatic sip. "Thanks love." They turned their head a little as their husband pressed a kiss to their cheek.

"You've been at this for hours," he said, a hint of a whine in his voice. "You should take a break." He kissed them again on the jaw.

"I'm in the zone, Cal, I can't just take a break," they scoffed. Calvin grumbled wordlessly, snaking his hands around Griffin's waist and pulling them back against him as he moved his lips to their neck. "Calvin I'm holding paint," they warned, gesturing with the palette in their left hand. "I'm gonna get paint on you."

"Mmhm." He nosed at the spot where their neck and shoulder met, placing another soft, lingering kiss there.

"Calvin you're wearing white."

"Mmmhm." He slid one hand up their chest and hooked a finger into the neck of their ratty old t-shirt, pulling it aside enough to expose new shoulder real estate to cover in kisses.

"Calvin."

"Hmm?"

"Cal."

"Mmn." Dissatisfied with what he could reach from his current angle, he shifted his grip to their hips and spun them around, drawing a yelp from them.

"Calvin!" Griffin held their hands as far away from Calvin's body as possible, meeting their husband's charming grin with an unimpressed look. They sighed, a smile creeping onto their face despite themself, and rested their forearms over his shoulders carefully. "Are you really this desperate for my attention?" they teased.

"I think you know the answer to that," he responded primly, his fingertips dipping under the hem of their shirt, tracing lines on their back.

"Big bad Mr Fischoeder can't handle being apart from me for a couple hours?" They kissed him briefly, chuckling when he chased their lips. "So needy."

"Well, don't go spreading it around, but I happen to rather like you," he murmured.

"Luckily for you, my love, I rather like you too. In fact it's why I married you." Calvin's face softened as it always did when they mentioned being married - it had been several months since the ceremony and he still felt giddy at the thought of being their husband. He leaned in slowly, wondering whether they were done teasing him. When all they did was stare at him with fondness in their dark blue eyes he closed the gap, kissing them deeply.

"Okay, darling," said Griffin after a long moment, pulling away a little. "Am I going to get to drink the water you so kindly brought me, or are we just going to stand here making out until I pour it down your back?"

"Oh! Yes, right, of course." He withdrew somewhat sheepishly, allowing Griffin to put their palette down and take a drink, gaze shifting to their canvas. Their mouth thinned into a line as they became immediately lost in thought.

Calvin observed them fondly. As much as he loved seeing them dolled up, always wearing extravagant, fashionable outfits regardless of their suitability for the actual occasion, there was something intimate about getting to see them relaxed like this. Their hair was pushed back from their face by a headband, the glasses that they only wore at home were slightly askew on their nose, and their outfit was nothing fancier than a threadbare shirt and jogging bottoms, both splattered with old dried paint.

He absolutely adored them.

"So, how goes the art?" Their canvas was mostly layers of dark blues, purples and greens, amorphous shapes, and one solid neat circle of black.

"Fine, fine. Just thinking about what I have to do, what order I need to do it in." Their paintbrush drummed nervously in the air, flicking spatters of alpine green against the hardwood. Calvin prudently decided not to mention it, instead looking around at the sketches taped up on the walls, trying to get an idea of what the finished piece would look like. Unfortunately the abstract squiggles of colour and pages filled with gesture drawings of pigs didn't help him much.

"Well I… suppose I'll get out of your hair," he said begrudgingly, stepping close to place another lingering kiss on their cheek. Griffin looked at him with a surprised expression.

"You don't have to leave if you don't want to, darling." They leaned into his chest, seemingly to emphasise their words. "You're welcome to stay and watch me paint - can't promise it'll be entertaining, though."

"If you're sure I won't be bothering you." He tried and failed to keep a grin from spreading across his face. Griffin shook their head, draining the last of the water and setting the glass down.

"Here." They turned to a nearby chair, speculatively eyeing the pile of paper, pencils and paints on the seat - then swept it all onto the floor. "Sit yourself down. In fact," They glanced at Calvin as he sat, crossing his legs just so. "Would you sing me something, since you're here?"

"Oh, well, if you insist," he said brightly, doing a miserable job of containing his excitement. "Let me see…"

Griffin returned to their painting as he mused over his song choice. Before too long their brush strokes were accompanied by Calvin's rich voice, then almost subconsciously by Griffin's own, softly singing along with the songs they knew. As the day lengthened, the pair sang the painting into shape, and Calvin thought it looked beautiful.

Griffin thought it looked just okay, but that's artists for you.

[tobiyours]

✧･ﾟ: *swing*:･ﾟ✧

pairing: oikawa tooru x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 878 words

happy belated birthday io! i’m sorry i’m a tad bit late i’ve been yk on academic grind but this is for you! i’m just reposting some old stuff mwah mwah @seijoh​ @writeiolite​

how would you like to spend your day off?

you’d imagine yourself being wrapped up under your fluffy duvet, listening to your favorite playlist as you sip the hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows and chocolate drizzles on top. maybe even have a chinese take-out instead of cooking for lunch, oh, and pizza for dinner. yes, that would be perfect.

your boyfriend, on the other hand, figured that it would be cute to drag you out on a sunny day to the amusement park. of course, you have told him that one particular time, saying a perfect date includes going on crazy rides, playing arcades, eating churros and buying matching headbands. but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you wanted that type of date, today. no. that's not it.

however.

you find yourself in the middle of a large crowd, with his arms thrown over your shoulder, hugging you close. his brooding figure acts as a shield from the harsh jostles of the excited homosapiens who are beyond giddy to be at the amusement park with their loved ones.

the wind blows your hair, making it askew and you can hear your boyfriend chuckling before pulling your hair behind your ears.

“you look like a mess babe.” he chortles, a soft smile plastering on his beautiful face as the sun shone directly on his face, accentuating his long lashes and beautiful dark orbs.

“shut up, tooru.”

going on rides with oikawa tooru, now, that’s a whole fun journey.

the way his face morphs from his usual cocky grin, flex shoulders into a look of pure terror, loud high-pitched shrieks and his hand gripping tightly onto the metal handle. of course, this is the man you fell into with.

the way his legs almost look like jell-o once the two of you got off the rides, the way he had to hold onto the railing for support, the way the sweats sheen on his forehead.

“babe, can we take a break first? i can’t do this anymore.” he says weakly, sounding almost like a whisper.

giggling as you drag him towards the snack kiosk, you offer him a soft smile. “of course, you big baby.”

oikawa has his head resting on the table as his arm stretched, and his fingers fiddling with yours, twirling lazily on top of yours. this small gesture - tiny, yet endearing, it makes your heart blooms like a field of flowers in spring.

“tooru,” you start, “you know you don't have to go on the rides if you don’t want to, right?” you say gently as you play with his dark locks.

he peeks a look at you, looking dejected and sad.

“tooru.”

“but you’re happy.” he whispers softly, it is muffled with the wind.

“what?”

“i’ll keep going on the rides because they make you happy,” he sits up straight, eyes boring into yours. “you look so happy and you’re laughing a lot. so, of course i will endure with my poor, weak heart.”

if it wasn’t due to the fact that you’re out in the public, you would have leap into his lap and start sobbing, but you keep it in your mental checklist that you will do it once you get home.

you let your boyfriend calm his pounding heart before pulling him to more rides.

oh.

and oikawa also insisted on buying the matching headbands - saying that it is essential for an amusement park date, so you let him choose the bunny ears headband - the pink one for you, and the blue one for him. his smile is blinding, it makes your heart flutters.

the sun is almost setting into the horizon. the sky is shifting from the light blue with fluffy clouds into a warm mixture of dark orange, purple, pink and darker shades of blue. the hues combined like an abstract painting on a white canvas, as if someone splutters the colors messily onto the sky, decorating them beautifully.

your hands locked with oikawa’s as the two of you enjoy the evening breeze on the big swing, the beautiful sky reflected in his eyes as his feet kick into the air, rosy cheeks and soft smile, hair messy from the harsh wind.

you tug his hand to get his attention.

he stops talking as his gaze averts to your face, eyebrows raised in confusion. “yes?”

exhaling through your nose. you feel as if there is nobody else on the ride, just the two of you. it feels great. amazing. just, perfect. to spend the whole day with him. beautiful.

“i love you, tooru.”

you lean in for a kiss. once. twice. deepening the kiss, as the ride still moves.

the scene almost looks like a picturesque cinematography of a romantic movie. the sky. the intertwined fingers. the kiss. you. oikawa tooru.

his soft lips brushing against yours, delicate, gentle. it is the kind of kiss that breaks open the sky. it steals your breath and gives it back. it shows you love, the intensity, the depth, it’s like no other - just with him, oikawa tooru, only he has the power to make you feel like this.

the ride slows down.

your heart burst into deep shades of red - pure passion, pure love.

eyes beaming with bliss.

“i really love you, tooru.”

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

Tattoos - Chapter 1 (also on 9L)

A/N: This will be a multi-chapter Caryl fic in which Carol is curious about Daryl’s tattoos and he discusses their origins with her. :)

“Just heard what happened. You okay?”

Daryl turned towards the infirmary door as Carol closed it behind her.

He sat on the patient bed, looking disgruntled, a bandage wrapped like a headband around his forehead.

“’S nuthin’,” he assured her.

“It’s a concussion,” Siddiq countered, lifting his eyebrows at Carol before he finished tying off the gauze.

The bandage sat askew, and some of Daryl’s too-long hair had fallen over it, giving him a flower-child vibe. Carol refrained from smirking, even as concern filled her.

“It ain’t that bad.”

“Thought someone had finally knocked some sense into that thick skull of yours, but…doesn’t sound like it,” she teased before turning to Siddiq. “How bad is it really?”

“He’ll be fine. I stitched the cut and gave him some Tylenol.” He faced Daryl. “I’d recommend staying up for a few hours to make sure your vision stays clear and your eyes don’t dilate. But you shouldn’t be alone. If you get these symptoms or if you get a severe headache, I’ll need to come check on you immediately. Otherwise, check in with me tomorrow morning so I can take a look at that cut.”

“Alright,” Daryl grumbled in agreement. “Told you it ain’t that bad though.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Carol offered.

Siddiq nodded and began cleaning up the medical supplies he’d used. “Thanks. Rosita has watch in just a few minutes, and I’m taking care of Coco, otherwise I’d keep him here for observation.”

Carol waited as Daryl slid his jacket on, then he thanked Siddiq and held the door open for her as they stepped into the darkness. She glanced up at him once as they walked the block and half home, and he seemed alright, if tired, so she waited until after they’d shucked off their coats before speaking.

“You want something warm to drink? That cold has just about seeped into my bones.”

“Sure, thanks.” He got to work building a fire in the fireplace as she filled up the kettle, set it to boil, and placed some of the loose leaf tea the Hilltop had made into a cheesecloth.

We’ve sure adapted well, she thought, watching Daryl strike flint against his knife in a home that still had water and windows and walls surrounding it. How far they’d come…and still…still the two of them were so far.

She’d spent a lot of the evening thinking about him as she’d paced back and forth on watch duty. About the constant ebb and flow of their relationship, the kindred connection they shared that no one—not even the king she’d married—could sever. About their shorthand and the way they often didn’t need words at all. How no matter how close they seemed to get, they never moved beyond what they already and had always been: together but not a couple, two but never one, teamed up but unpaired, a duo but individually.

And why is that?

The screech of chair legs against the floor shook her out of her reverie, and she turned to find Daryl sitting at the dining room table, the only light in the house coming from the fireplace and above her in the kitchen.

The kettle screamed, and she poured the boiling water over the teabag, letting it steep for a few minutes before transferring it to the second cup. When it was done, she set the cheesecloth in the sink and carried the two steaming mugs to the table and placed one in front of Daryl.

She sat next to him and held the steaming cup in her hands, wondering how long she should let his thoughts steep before drawing them out of him.

“So what happened?” she eventually asked, her voice quiet.

He looked at her for a moment before staring into his tea. “A few of the crew and me decided to stay past sundown to finish reinforcing the back wall. Didn’t think it’d take so long… We finished it, and I wanted to have everything in order for the mornin’ crew, so we were pilin’ the unused lumber on the stack. Frank didn’t look around—or I didn’t. He swung a board around pretty fast and clocked me good.” Daryl lifted his hand to the extra padding at his temple and felt around the gauze, testing the pain. “Knocked me out good.”

Her brow furrowed. “For how long?”

“Only a few seconds. I’m alright.” Daryl saw the worry on her face. “I’m pretty hardheaded.”

Carol’s expression lightened. “Don’t I know it. Still, Siddiq said you need to stay awake. So awake we’ll stay.”

He huffed in amusement at her cheeky smile. “Alright then.”

Silence engulfed them, the sounds of the compound at day having faded away hours ago with the setting of the sun, and they sat several minutes in the cocoon of paltry light and warmth.

“Siddiq looks like Jesus, don’t you think?”

Carol’s question came out of nowhere, and it took Daryl a few beats to realize she meant the Savior and not their lost compatriot.

He furrowed his brow. “Never thought about it…but I could see it.”

“Right hair length, right skin color, right calling… Physician, healer,” she answered Daryl’s unspoken question.

He nodded noncommittally. “You still believe in all that?”

His tone held no judgment, no doubt, no condemnation—it was merely a question.

Carol took a sip of her tea before answering. “I want to. I think I do,” she answered quietly, choosing her words carefully. “I can’t fathom that this…this is all for nothing, otherwise what are we fighting so hard for?”

He nodded again, considering her words in silence. He knew she didn’t expect an answer, and he didn’t have one even if she did.

He’d read the Bible, had even gone to church with his grandmother as a kid—and enjoyed it more than he’d expected to. The teachers had been kind to him, gentle, in a way even his mother had never been. They’d never looked at him with contempt or disgust in their eyes, but instead treated him like a person. Like he mattered. He’d pretended it was a chore to go so his family didn’t take Sundays with grandma away from him, but he’d looked forward to it all week long, those few hours of living in a warmth he didn’t quite understand. The glow of his teachers, the compassion in their voices, the way they hugged him without hurting him...those kindnesses faded by the hour after he got home on Sunday afternoons, and he’d spend the week wishing Ms. Elizabeth, his favorite teacher, would take him home with her.

He hadn’t thought about that in... He shook the memories from his head, hoping beyond reason that Ms. Elizabeth and all the others who’d done him a kindness they’d never know were safe with the Jesus Carol believed in, the one he wanted to believe in too, if only for people like that.

“You can’t un-see it now, can you?” Carol asked with a half-smile.

Daryl came back to the conversation at hand. “No…don’t think I’ll ever look at him the same way again.”

“You’re welcome,” she stated proudly.

He stared at her without emotion, trying to hold in his amusement, knowing the futility of it. She knew how to read him too well after all these years.

“How’s Frank holding up after knocking you around?”

“He’s alright. He’s the one who ran and got Siddiq. First thing he said when he came back is that he felt like a tool.”

“Yeah, maybe an anvil.”

He chuffed at her wit. “On a roll tonight, aren’t ya?”

“Just trying to keep you on your toes—and awake.”

“Ain’t tired just yet.”

“Your head hurting?”

“Nah, the pills helped.”

Carol nodded. “I’m gonna make some more tea. You want some?”

He chugged down the last few gulps. “Sure.”

She grabbed his cup and set about her task. He watched her move about the kitchen, and though most of the time he tried to keep it at bay, tonight he let his mind wander into what-if. What if they’d met before everything went to shit? What if he’d been the father of her children? Would they still be alive?

Hell yes, some part of him answered defiantly.

Would they have had a home like this one? Would she move about their kitchen with this ease, wanting to take care of him, even as he longed to take care of her?

Would he have been good enough? Better than his father?  Would she have even wanted him?

Doubt flooded his mind, and he stopped the train before it crashed into despair. What-if only made him feel worse about his shitty life, and he had too many things to focus on to get distracted by the worthlessness of his heritage.

He swallowed hard, trying to erase the thoughts from his mind as Carol set the steaming cup in front of him again. He wrapped his hands around the mug, letting the heat burn some of the maudlin thoughts from his mind.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

His eyes flicked to Carol, who stared at the back of his hand where a skull, three X’s, and a star had been inked.

“I count that as one, so…five?”

“Hmm,” she hummed, peering at him openly. “Do they all have special meanings?”

“We playin’ twenty questions tonight?” he wondered. It came out more teasingly than he felt, though he was grateful considering the path his thoughts had taken.

“Just curious.”

“Yeah, they all mean somethin’.”

“What does this one mean?” Her eyes darted to his hand, then back to his face.

She was digging in a place he’d just mucked around in, and he wanted to avoid the question, but the curiosity in her bright blue eyes and the expression of expectation on her face had him speaking in spite of himself.

“It represents my family. First tattoo I ever got.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded and laid his palm flat on the table so they could both see the tattoos. “This,” he began, pointing to the star that sat just below the knuckle of his thumb. “is for my ma. She was the only woman in my family. These three,” he indicated the X’s that sat between the knuckles of his fingers. “are for the men in my family.”

“And the skull?” she asked, caught up in the way the print on his hand told a story.

He swallowed, not wanting to answer, knowing more questions would follow. Questions he wasn’t prepared to deal with, had never dealt with, hadn’t had to think about since the living had come back to life.

He stared at the skull on the center of the back of his hand, with X’s for eyes and bared teeth. A vision of death, of anger. A harbinger of the macabre.

“It represents me.”

Though he stared at the ink on his skin, he saw her eyes flick up to his face.

“But I thought the X’s were…”

Her voice trailed off as she caught on, and he let the silence engulf them, though this time it felt heavy and dank, not at all like before. He’d stalled the conversation with his admission, and he didn’t know if he could even speak the words that would help her understand.

He wanted to though, and the realization stunned him. He’d never wanted to speak of it before. And never had. But he would to her if she asked.

She wouldn’t—he knew—but the revelation that he’d tell her filled him with an emotion he couldn’t explain.

With her index finger, Carol tracked the shape of the skull on his skin, and he watched her movement as though in a trance. Her touch both burned and sent shivers racing across his skin, and several moments passed before he looked up at her.

She stared intently at their hands as she continued to trace the print on his skin.

“Do you want to know about the others?”

His voice, genuine but strained, aching and heavy, surprised even him.

He saw her swallow hard and shake her head before her eyes lifted to his and she gripped his hand in hers.

“Some other time,” she promised.

He nodded, wondering if another time would happen. His heart thundered recklessly in his chest, overcome by both fear and memories.

“Right now, let’s make sure you’re okay,” she said softly, her free hand reaching up to brush the hair away from his forehead and the bandage there.

She squeezed his hand once before letting it go, and he felt emboldened and at a loss as they both picked up their cups and sipped the warm liquid.

“Told you I’m fine.” He managed to sound normal, though they both knew the air sat too thick and heavy at the moment.

“I know,” she acknowledged, letting him have the space he needed. “And I’m here to make sure you are.”

[fuwafuwamedb]

Il serait amusant de voir Ozy et Nef demander à Da Vinci de faire des tests sur Hakuno et de vérifier si Hakuno est leur descendant. Les tests révèlent que Hakuno est vraiment leur descendant et ils sont heureux. Juste après, Ozy et Nine essaient de chasser Gil de Hakuno car ils la considèrent comme leur fille et ne veulent pas…

translation: It would be funny to see Ozymandias and Nefertari ask Da Vinci to see if Hakuno is indeed one of their descendants. The tests reveal that she is their descendant and they’re happy. Right after, Ozymandias and Nine (?) go after Gilgamesh for Hakuno because they see her as their daughter and don’t want to... (translator note: ah yes, the lovely three dots of intrigue)

[That feel when you know your best friend is a shit who has karma coming in the form of an angry father figure. Poor dumbass]

“Da Vinci?” Nefertari looked over at the inventor, slipping around Ozymandias. “What did you find? Is she…”

He understood the hesitation. It had been a long time for them both. His woman wanted to be sure before she got her hopes up. She wanted to know with no doubt in her soul that the magician was related to them. As soon as she had been summoned as a Caster, she had sensed a kinship of sorts with the young master. It had intrigued her, plagued her for weeks. She had become fast friends with the mage, wishing to know everything and becoming more fascinated by how little the woman knew.

Da Vinci glanced over at them, smiling. “I have received the results. They are on the computer over there.”

Ozy found himself laughing as Nefertari rushed over to the machine. She settled onto the chair, hugging her legs as she waited for the inventor.

Ah, but there was something inside of him that was interested in knowing as well. Hakuno had times where her laughter sounded so close to his wife’s own. It had been what had drawn him into requesting to become the mage’s servant. Despite Gilgamesh’s displeasure, there was something comforting about being the young woman’s servant.

“She is!” Nefertari beamed excitedly, bouncing in the seat. “I have a baby again! Hakuno is our baby, Ramses!”

He couldn’t help the joy that came to him at the sight of such exuberance. His own smile couldn’t have been outdone by even the suns of this universe. He couldn’t help the feeling that formed in his chest.

He had known, deep down.

Hakuno was his.

Hakuno was theirs!

“Thank you, Da Vinci!” Nefertari held the woman’s hands, tears forming in those beautiful magenta eyes. “Thank you. I… A piece of my love for my Ramses is alive and happy. She’s been so close all this time!”

“Are you both going to inform her soon?” Da Vinci looked between them. “I imagine Gilgamesh archer will want to know as well, seeing as he is her… well,” the woman gestured vaguely.

“Of course, I will tell Hakuno immediately,” Nefertari agreed. “I want to be able to bond with her properly. We should be able to do more mother daughter things. I want to hear her call me mother. Or Ramses father. Ah- Ramses,” Nefertari turned those glistening eyes his way. “Can you imagine our baby telling us that she loves us? Or giving her advice on falling in love!”

His wife swooned, making him catch her. He had to shaking his head.

Ah, falling in love already-

“Pharaoh?” Da Vinci stared at him, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“The king of heroes has been engaging in near intimate activity with my child.”

He could picture it so well.

The man was arrogant, selfish. He indulged in a manner that was only surpassed by his great prestige. He would not be gentle or patient. He would throw his daughter down upon the bed, towering over her, demanding-

Oh no.

Ozymandias hoisted his woman over his shoulder, leaving the room immediately. His direction was focused on getting to the king’s chambers. The man would be around his child. His child.

Hakuno needed her parents. Ancestors.

No, if she were related to them, then she should consider them parents. She needed a proper mother and father to protect her in this place.

“Ramses,” Nefertari hugged his waist from behind, her body trapped over his shoulder. “I am so happy.”

“We need to go fetch our daughter from the hands of the sexually deviant, my sweet lotus blossom.”

“Can I take her to our rooms, Ramses? We could have her remain with us while you take care of whatever problem you’ve uncovered,” his sweet other half proposed, in that perfect voice of hers. Would the universe be able to produce anything or anyone half as beautiful on the inside and out such as his sweet Nefertari?

Then again, he and his wife had given life to this child of theirs.

“Gil, no.”

“Hakuno, do not think you may simply back out of this proposal.”

They could hear the voices of the master and servant from where they were, Ozymandias finding his pace picking up. He could see the door, ajar just for them.

Destiny itself was on their side.

“Hakuno,” the personification of Set, the god of chaos himself, purred to his child. “You merely must attempt the gameplay. You do not need to be successful. I have had practice in such intricate matters. You are a mere child to such practices. Bend down and take it into hand.”

“KING OF HEROES!”

He didn’t pause, throwing the door open and finding his child dressed in nothing more than one of the king’s shirts.

Blasphemous!

Nefertari was off his shoulder in an instant, rushing forward as the king leaned back, his headband falling askew. The archer raised a brow at him, dressed in the most slovenly of manners.

“Pharaoh. What brings you to my chambers? I am busy teaching my woman pleasure. Return later.”

“I CAME TO RETRIEVE MY CHILD!”

Hakuno stared at him as Nefertari was hugging her. Gilgamesh also frowned, glancing around.

“I haven’t seen your cats, pharaoh.”

The fool, unable to see what was so apparent to the eye. He could only close his eyes, laughing a bit at the man’s naivety. He moved forth, wrapping his arms around both Nefertari and Hakuno.

“Behold, king! My family is three! The inventor herself tested a strand of my child’s hair to confirm what Nefertari and I already knew to be true!”

The blond stared at him a moment before glancing at Hakuno.

“I don’t know what they’re talking about either,” his innocent child shrugged.

“Come,” Nefertari held her hands, as one would with their gift from the gods themselves. “Da Vinci wanted you to see, but I didn’t want to bother you if I was wrong. You’re our descendant.”

Hakuno followed, her gaze a bit wide. Ozy handed his cloak to his sweet wife, pressing his lips to her temple before he turned to the king. They both awaited the women leaving, Nefertari wrapping the Egyptian fabrics around their sweet offspring.

The door closed.

“You get a moment to run,” Ozymandias informed the king. “Out of respect for our time in the battlegrounds together.”

“Hakuno has been sleeping with me for months,” the ingrate countered. “She is my mongrel and-“

Light struck in front of the king, driving him to his feet. Armor appeared on his person.

“It’s war you want then? After everything,” Gilgamesh growled.

“You have been mistreating my child,” he snarled back.

“She begs for it.”

A length of chain shot passed his face, missing by mere inches. The lance slammed into the wall, narrowly missing the king. Glancing over his shoulder, Ozymandias could see a green haired being standing there, crossing their arms.

“It’s avenge Hakuno time?”

“Are you here to defend your king or defend my child?” Ozymandias asked the being.

“Hakuno has been so gentle, so sweet as a young lady.” Enkidu moved forward, yanking the chains of their weapon back. “I suppose I’m fighting against my king again. Should be fun…”

Ah, truly, fate was on their side.

He turned back, pausing at the empty space.

A flash of gold flickered in the other entrance to the room.

“He is escaping!”

Enkidu laughed. “You’re wanting to fight the only servant in this place that has more enemies than treasures. I know a few people who will help us with whatever he’s done to make you want him knocked down a peg.”

“How fast will they assemble?”

Saber peeked around the doorway. “I heard fighting.”

Enkidu grinned boldly. “Tell Waver and Iskander to come join us. We’re Gilgamesh hunting.”

The woman smiled excitedly. “I’ll tell Emiya to postpone dinner!”

“Instruct the servants to meet immediately!” Ozymandias declared. “The king’s head is mine!”

They would all protect his child at all costs. 

[sapphicscholar]

Literally just Halloween fluff to make up for what I've heard was a shitshow of an episode (though I won't see it until tomorrow night, so please no spoilers!) Pairings: Sanvers, Supercorp, Scholsen, and Lucy/Vasquez (don't know a name for them..) because fuck it, I want all the cute gay pairings

A/N: Happy Halloween! Also, heyyy, I’m back! Thanks for the patience and best wishes for the exam! It…well, it happened. Fun story: walking into the room, I over heard one of the women who was waiting to take the Math GRE Subject Test whisper to her friend, “Oh god, those are the lit kids. They’re the only ones with more of a curve than we get because the test is so hard almost everyone fails.” Cool, cool, cool, thanks for the fun vote of confidence!

I’m still pausing on the new prompts because I want to catch up so I don’t have the queue hanging over my head, but asks on Tumblr are open since I’m more than happy to answer questions/brainstorm ideas that may or may not end up in future fic/generally chat about random shit. This one was not prompted, but I liked the idea, so I ran with it for a short fluffy one-shot. I’ll get a Tumblr post up sometime soon with a master list of all of my Halloween fics, one of which may not go up until later this week…

Chapter Text

“Where’s my gun?” Maggie yelled from the living room.

“You don’t need it tonight!” Alex called back, her voice slightly breathy as she forced her foot into her tall boots.

“Not the real one—the toy one! For my costume!”

“Oh. Uh…I think it’s in the closet.”

“Spent enough time in there to know,” Maggie mumbled, laughing when Alex’s retort came back almost instantly: “I couldn’t hear the specifics, but I’m sure it was rude!”

As Maggie rooted through the closet, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist as Alex’s breath was suddenly hot against her neck. “Need a hand? I’ve been told I have quite the reach.”

Laughing, Maggie spun in Alex’s arms, her breath catching at the sight of Alex’s red and black spandex suit, the telltale yellow “i” emblazoned on her chest. “Well, hello there, Elastigirl.”

“Eyes back in your head, Sawyer. Tonight we have to be appropriate for the kiddos.”

“Only until 9…”

Smiling even as she shook her head, Alex leaned in and kissed Maggie softly. “C’mon, Jessie, let’s find your cowboy hat and your gun and get your cute little butt down to CatCo.”

“My cute little but would definitely prefer to stay here with you and that spandex suit.”

“Wasn’t this whole thing your idea?”

“With Kara, and I’m totally sure should could handle it on her own…”

“Nope. You two are finally getting along well, and I’m not about to jeopardize that for sex.”

“What if I promise to—”

Alex cut her off with a finger to the lips and a stern shake of the head. She might have more self-control than most, but there was only so much she could resist, and when Maggie took it upon herself to verbalize all the things she wanted to do to Alex—well, all bets were off. “I’ll get your gun and the candy. You find your hat and my mask.”

“Roger that, Elastigirl.”

“Is this going to go on all night?”

“You betcha.”

One heated makeout that left the car windows fogged and costumes slightly askew later they finally made their way into CatCo, waving as they caught sight of Kara dashing to and fro in full Supergirl attire as she put the finishing touches on the decorations for their alien-friendly Halloween. When Maggie had mentioned over dinner one night that there was often an uptick in instances of anti-alien attacks on Halloween as too many young off-worlders attempted to go out—gills and tentacles and blue skin on display, assuming it was the one night a year they could be themselves—only to find themselves found out as “real” aliens and subjected to the anti-alien hostilities Cadmus and the like continued to stir up, Kara had been quick to jump into action, intent on finding a safe way for the aliens who, unlike her, didn’t have the privilege of blending in to celebrate the holiday like the other kids their age. After one short meeting with James and Lena and two slightly longer meetings with J’onn and Maggie’s captain about ensuring the support of local law enforcement, Kara was off and running to plan CatCo’s first “All-Inclusive Halloween Extravaganza.”

Kara, Maggie, and M’gann had worked together to find the closest approximation to sweets from all different planets (as well as to mark anything that could be toxic to certain species), to come up with a whole host of games and activities, and to promote the event to local kids. Alex had to admit, she was beyond impressed with the results. The entire first floor of CatCo had been transformed. A string of cubicles was now a row of activity booths, including face painting, bobbing for apples, and painting mini pumpkins, while the entire back section of the floor had become a haunted house run by Winn and Vasquez, who had worked together to rig up animatronic ghouls, sound systems, and motion sensor-activated surprises.

With another half hour until the kids started arriving, Alex carried their candy over to the sweets table where James and Lena were busy sorting and labeling everything—both of them more than a little concerned about potential lawsuits from leaving anything that could be lethal or toxic unlabeled.

“Cute costume,” James commented. “Didn’t want to go the couples route?”

“Nah, she doesn’t quite have the size to pull off a Mr. Incredible costume. And I wasn’t about to dress up as Woody and match her.”

“Buzz Lightyear?” Lena suggested, stifling a laugh at Alex’s unamused expression.

“I prefer a bit of flexibility in my costumes.”

“Ah yes, the DEO catsuit—but now in red!” James teased, earning a glare from Alex.

“You’re talking a big game for a man in spandex himself.”

“You can’t go wrong with the Superman route…”

“Excuse me, I think you could have killed it as Supergirl too,” Lena chimed in, twirling slightly in her skirt, stopping only when she noticed the real Supergirl frozen in place, mouth hanging open. With a wink and a small wave to her girlfriend, Lena turned her attention back to Alex, not missing the protective big sister scowl. “So! The candy.”

Figuring she could be generous for the holiday, Alex indulged the digression and turned her attention back to sorting the sweets.

Across the room, Lucy strolled in with a few of the other DEO agents there to make sure nothing happened to ruin the fun night for the kids.

“What are you, Luce?” Kara asked, assessing the totally unmarked black spandex suit paired with black heels.

Lucy gestured at the furry ears on her headband and rolled her eyes, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m a cat. Duh.”

“A very sexy cat,” Vasquez added, wrapping her arms around Lucy and pulling her in for a kiss.

“Don’t get your night of the living dead makeup on me!” Lucy squealed, though her laugh and indulgent smile gave her away.

“C’mon, let your undead zombie bride carry you through the door of the haunted house.”

“I feel like that’s seven years of bad luck…”

“Nah, I won’t break any mirrors.”

Kara chuckled as Vasquez bent at the knees and easily scooped Lucy up into her arms bridal style, whisking her across the room and leaving Kara to direct the DEO agents to different areas of the floor.

---

After a few quiet minutes while Kara anxiously paced around, peering out the door in the hopes that someone would arrive, local families slowly began trickling in, the young aliens mingling with the human children of some of National City’s prominent alien rights advocates as their parents gathered at the cider table to chat. Within half an hour, the floor was crowded, and the sound of laughter and squeals from inside the haunted house filled the air, mingling with the Halloween soundtrack Lucy had prepared for the occasion, letting the occasional Rocky Horror song slip in among the kids tunes.

“You proud of the event?” Alex asked, sidling up next to Maggie and handing over a cup of the cider she’d spiked just a bit.

“Yeah, I think it’s going well,” Maggie offered with a small shrug of her shoulders.

“Ugh, why is it that you’re only a cocky shit at home.”

“Cause you love it when I’m a cocky shit in the bedroom,” Maggie teased.

Blushing slightly, Alex swatted at Maggie’s upper arm. “Just take credit for the damn event, Sawyer. It’s a huge success.”

“Yeah? Yeah, it kind of is.”

“Definitely is.”

---

Across the room, James made his way over to the haunted house, having left the treat table in Kara and Lena’s very capable hands, hoping they wouldn’t distract one another too much. “How’s my little master of ceremonies doing?” James asked, draping an arm across Winn’s shoulders.

“Master of horror, master of gore—c’mon, let me have a cool title.”

“Is Man in the Van not cool enough for you?” James teased. Seeing the small pout on Winn’s face, he pulled out the caramel apple he’d brought over. “Make it better?”

“A little.”

“What if I offered to go through the haunted house with you?”

“It’s not fun when we both know what’s going to happen,” Winn reasoned, though he’d been dying to take James out to the truly creepy warehouse-turned-haunted house in downtown National City since it opened.

“What if I told you that I asked Vasquez to rig up a few horrors that you don’t know about?”

“Well, then, I might just say you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“Only a might?”

“Let’s see how it goes first,” Winn stipulated, though the poorly concealed grin gave him away, and he excitedly grabbed James hand and dragged him over to the entrance as soon as Vasquez was all set up.

By the time they made it out, Winn was in James’ arms and even James looked like he had seen a ghost. “What the hell, Vasquez? I thought we had a deal!”

“The deal was to scare the crap out of Winn. I did that, didn’t I?” Vasquez gestured at the way Winn had wrapped himself around James like a koala bear.

“But I didn’t tell you to scare me too!”

“Who says it was intentional?” Vasquez asked, trying and failing to look innocent.

“Lucy told you, didn’t she?”

“Told her what?” Lucy asked, popping into the conversation.

“About how he’s super scared of mice,” Vasquez announced, drawing a loud laugh from Lucy who nodded gleefully.

“So how’d you get Winn that scared? I thought he was supposed to be all master of horror tonight.”

“Oh, Winn here is terrified of the Joker…just threw in that signature laugh and a few choice holograms and boom—instant koala bear.”

“It’s a perfectly legitimate fear,” Winn pouted as he let himself be lowered to the ground.

“Sure it is.”

“Whatever.”

“Anyway, I’ve gotta head back over to the music, but I’m about to give a little dance lesson to the grown ups on how to do the Time Warp so I suggest you close your haunted house for the night.” With a small mock salute, Lucy turned and strutted back over to the makeshift dance floor.

“I’m not gonna miss watching you pelvic thrust, babe,” Vasquez called after Lucy, hopping out of the control seat to follow her across the room.

“Sure you already get plenty of that at home…” Winn trailed off, smiling impishly at Vasquez, who had rounded on him.

“You know Danvers isn’t the only one who knows six very painful ways to kill you with her index finger, right, Schott?”

“Psh, you’ll never be as scary as the Joker! Good try!”

“I can project the Joker hologram into your bedroom when you least expect it,” Vasquez threatened.

“Shutting up now.”

“Good idea.”

From across the room, they heard Lucy announce over the microphone: “It’s time for the Time Warp, and if I don’t see Superman, Captain Kirk, Jessie, Elastigirl, Supergirl 1, Supergirl 2, and Zombie Bride out on the dance floor, they’re gonna be joining me on stage to teach you all the dance!”

Within moments, the entire Superfriends crew had materialized on the dance floor, leaving M’gann and J’onn, who had arrived late after a quick patrol as Supergirl, to play the responsible adults at the snack table. As the opening chords rang out through the speakers, Alex felt Maggie’s hand squeezing her own.

“What’s that for?”

“I love you. I love this. I love our weird little family, you know?”

“Yeah, I love you too.”

“I can see you two lovebirds not stepping to the left!” Lucy yelled, her gaze trained on Alex and Maggie. “Would you like to come up here and help me demonstrate the moves?”

With a laugh and a middle finger that Maggie hastily knocked down before any of the kids could see, Alex let herself be pulled into the routine.

[wormwood-mothman]

Flowers For You (Nedden Week Day 2)

A day late and a lot longer than I planned it to be, but I hope this is still enjoyable!

Lars hummed softly while placing the key in the lock and turning, getting ready for the day. He ran a florist shop in a shopping center in downtown, though most people thought other wise at first glance. He was always wearing black or some other dark colored clothes, and on warm days when he wore tank tops his countless tattoos were visible, and had a few piercings in his ears and one on his lip. Most people thought he looked 'too tough' to be in the florist business, but he didn't care. He always loved gardening, and being able to arrange what he grew beautifully for others was just an added perk in his opinion.

He immediately started work on an arrangement he wanted to get ready for the new shop across from him. He was surprised when the sign went up on the soft-colored building, announcing it as a tattoo shop. Most usually appeared very edgy, but who was he to judge? He finished it off with a handwritten note welcoming the shop owner to the center. He looked up when he heard the bell on the front door ring.

"What can I help you with?" He asked, putting finishing touches on the arrangement before setting it aside.

"Hey! I just opened up shop across the way, so I figured I'd introduce myself," the stranger said. Lars was taken aback completely. He was not expecting that. This guy was the new tattoo shop owner? He was wearing a flower crown! And dressed in very soft colors to match his shop! And was that glitter on his face on top of some faint freckles? He knew that the new tattoo shop would be unorthodox, but this? This was unheard of. But, he couldn't deny--the guy had looks. His eyes were a beautiful blue and bright with enthusiasm, and his whole demeanor seemed to radiate happiness and comfort. He was slightly shorter than Lars, and looked to be well-toned.

"Oh, you must be the owner of that new tattoo shop. I'm Lars," he held out his hand for the other to shake, walking out from behind the counter.

"Mathias," the stranger-- Mathias-- said while shaking his hand. "I, um, hate to be rude, but you aren't exactly what I'd expect a florist to look like." Lars shrugged while grabbing the arrangement of peach roses with baby's breath and light pink anemones.

"I'm not surprised, I get that a lot. I was about to drop these off for you as a welcome gift, but since you're here I can give them to you in person." If it was even possible, Mathias seemed to grow even more excited upon seeing the bouquet.

"Oh, thank you! These are so lovely! And they match the place well, don't 'cha think?" He held the flowers up to his face with a huge grin. "I wish I brought something for you," he chuckled. Lars waved his hand dismissively.

"Don't worry about it, it's a welcome present." Mathias smiled at Lars, running a hand through his messy blond locks, careful not to knock his flower crown askew.

"Well, I still feel bad. Come by anytime you want, and I'll design a tattoo for you. I have a few ideas for one that would look good right... there," he poked at a small spot across Lar's elbow that was still bare. "I'd love to add to your collection!" Lars smiled softly.

"That sounds really good. Is there a specific time that's good for you?" Mathias shrugged.

"I'm good with pretty much any day. Just come in after seven so it's not during hours." Lars nodded.

"Okay. I'll be by, then." Mathias smiled waving with one hand while the other held the flowers close to him.

"Okay, I'll be expecting you!" He shouted while walking out and across to his shop. Once he was sure Mathias was out of earshot, Lars hid his face against the counter and groaned while smiling. Damn Mathias, and his adorably happy personality! It was infectious! But he was just so cute! He took a deep breath and pulled himself together and started working on different orders he had to have ready.

Later that morning, Antonio-- the owner of a café a few shops down, came in with a cup of Lars' favorite coffee, a flat white. Lars looked over thankfully while drinking as much as he could without burning his mouth. Antonio chuckled while leaning against the counter.

"Rough morning?" Lars shrugged.

"I guess. Have you seen the new shop?" Lars pointed across to Mathias' tattoo shop. Antonio lit up.

"Oh! That must be where the new guy is! I haven't been in, but Lovi brought him a call-in order this morning. He said he was too happy." Lars chuckled. He had known the two who owned the coffee shop for a few years. Lovi, or Lovino, was polar opposite to the happy man Antonio was. They seemed different in so many ways, but still worked together very well, both in business and as boyfriends.

"He is very happy. You should've seen the way he smiled when I handed him his welcome gift. It was like I had just handed him his most favorite thing in the world!" Antonio chuckled.

"Well, look at his store! It looks very soft. Flowers would look great over there!" Lars smiled.

"You think so? He really seemed to like them..." Antonio smiled while poking Lars.

"Ooh, I think you have a crush!" Lars swatted his hand away.

"I just met the guy, I can't have a crush on him already. Only time will tell with that. But he is cute. He has that kind of energy that you just can't help but smile along with." He smiled, thinking back to his encounter with Mathias. He looked over to see Antonio grinning.

"Mm-hm. Does he, now?" Lars rolled his eyes while taking another sip from his coffee.

"Don't you have a café to run? Or someone else to bother?" Antonio held his hands up in surrender while walking back to the door.

"Alright, alright. I know when I'm not wanted. But I also know what it looks like when someone's in love!" He left quickly before Lars could retort. He didn't have a crush! Sure, he thought Mathias was cute, but it wasn't like that. He just thought he was adorably energetic, and just had an air of being cute. He couldn't explain it but he just seemed so cute, and way too precious for the world.

A few days had passed since Lars had met Mathias without much contact between the two of them, but that changed when Lars decided to visit his shop after closing his up for the night. He brought another bouquet with him, this one of light red carnations and yellow roses. Lars was always careful choosing the right flowers for an occasion, and took care making the colors something that might appeal to Mathias. He walked across into his shop around seven. He set the flowers down and watched while he heard the buzz of a needle working. Mathias was completely fixated on the tattoo he was inking, his tongue poking out of his lips while his brows furrowed with intense focus. He utilized his flower crown now as a headband to keep his mess of hair out of his way. Lars smiled softly while sitting in the front area.

"I'll be with you in just a moment!" Mathias shouted once the needle stopped. Lars waited patiently for him to finish cleaning up and as the customer paid before leaving. Once finished, Mathias came running over, practically throwing his plastic gloves off anywhere.

"You came!" Lars chuckled, handing the bouquet.

"And I come bearing gifts." Mathias gasped softly while taking the flowers.

"Wow, these are really pretty! Thank you, Lars! I'll put them with the others!" He walked back to the counter and carefully placed the new bouquet next to the old one in the same vase.

"So, you said you had a few ideas?" Lars asked, sitting across from Mathias at a small desk with varying drawing supplies spread out across it.

"Oh, yeah! It all depends on what you're looking for. A lot of your tattoos are grayscale, so I've been sticking to that. It works out good, too. They fade slower, so it's less touch-up work." Lars nodded.

"Yeah, that part I really like." He looked over as Mathias flipped through some different designs he came up with for Lars. Most of them were very similar to his other tattoos, badass almost tribal looking designs that were mostly black with some areas of gray.

"So what do you think? You got a favorite?" Lars grabbed the sketchbook carefully and flipped to the back page it was resting on when Mathias started showing him his art, a stylized sketch of the bouquet he received the other day from Lars colored brightly.

"I really like this one. Do you think it'll fit?" He asked, looking at the empty spot from the crook of his elbow to the side of his bicep. Mathias chuckled.

"In size, yes. But in design? It's very different, are you sure?" Lars nodded.

"Yeah. You said you wanted to add to the collection, so I want a tattoo that reflects your style." Mathias smiled.

"Oh. Well, thanks. I take that as a compliment," he said while flipping to a blank page. "Well, at least let me make it something personalized to you, okay?" He pulled his knees to his chest and rested the sketchbook on his thighs, leaning over to peer closely at Lars.

"Personalized, how?" Lars said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Mathias grinned before backing away.

"I'll make your tattoo special. Even if it's something in my style, it should be something you can identify with. Something that means something to you." Lars nodded.

"So, how do you go about that?" Mathias shrugged.

"Getting to know you. Figure out your likes, your dislikes, your personality... that kind of stuff, y'know?" He said without looking up from his sketchbook.

"So, what are you doing, now?" Lars peeked over. Mathias showed him the page, a detailed but cartoony sketch of Lars at the center and some different doodles along the side.

"Brainstorming. So, tell me some stuff about you."

"Like what?" Lars chuckled.

"Anything, really. Hmm," he hummed, pressing his pencil to his mouth. "Favorite color?"

"Black, probably." Mathias laughed softly.

"Black is a shade. Pick a color!"

"Why are you so particular? I don't know, blue probably."

"Nice! It's very calming, isn't it? Okay! Coffee, tea, or cocoa?"

"Coffee. What's with all the questions?"

"I'm getting to know you! What kind of coffee?" Lars shrugged.

"Flat white, usually." Mathias smiled, but with a slight grimace.

"Ooh, I can't really stand coffee like that. It's perfect just on it's own. But I usually go with hot cocoa more often. Anyways... favorite season?" Lars was still stuck on what Mathias said before. The hot cocoa didn't surprise him, but Mathias drinking coffee black definitely did. He didn't really seem like the type to like strong coffee.

"Probably spring." Mathias grinned.

"Should've seen that one coming, with all the flowers blooming at that time of year."

"Okay, well what about you? You're asking me all these questions, but I hardly know anything about you." Mathias looked over his sketchbook curiously before setting it aside.

"Do you want me to answer? Okay! My favorite color's red-- the color of passion, though I do like a nice light green too. I like black coffee, but prefer hot cocoa best, with sprinkles! And my favorite season's fall. I like getting to wear really big sweaters, and seeing all the colors from the leaves changing." He grinned at Lars. Lars smiled back softly.

"Sprinkles, huh?"

"Yeah! Especially rainbow sprinkles! It makes it look really cute. Can I go on asking you stuff?" Lars nodded.

"Okay. But you have to answer them too."

"No problem! Cats, or dogs?"

"Cats, probably. But I actually like bunnies better." He smiled while Mathias lit up.

"Aw, I love bunnies! They're so cute! Hmm, out of cats and dogs, I like dogs best. They have such a playful spirit! Favorite artist?"

"I like a lot of Van Gogh's work, he was really talented."

"Yeah he was! I like Van Gogh too!" Mathias continued to scribble in his sketchbook before continuing.

"What's your favorite kind of flower?" Lars laughed while groaning.

"You're making me choose? Ugh, hmm... tulips?" He said almost as a question.

"Are you sure?" Mathias asked while laughing.

"I guess. What about you?" Lars grinned. Mathias seemed to light up when he looked over at Lars.

"I like any, really. But if I have to choose, uhm, I like roses. Call me traditional," he shrugged. "Favorite app or social media?"

"Instagram, probably. I like being able to take and see pictures. It's good advertisement too, sometimes." Mathias nodded.

"I like Instagram, but I'm torn between that and Tumblr." He set the sketchbook aside after and continued smiling at Lars, not breaking his stare. Lars looked over his shoulder before back at Mathias, trying to figure out what he was looking at.

"Why are you staring?" Mathias shrugged.

"Jus' studying ya. Gotta know the canvas, y'know?" He leaned over closer, resting his hands on his knees. Lars backed away slightly, trying too hard not to stare at Mathias. After a few moments though, he gave up and looked over at Mathias. He didn't have any glitter on his cheeks today, but his faint freckles were still prominent against his pale but warm-toned skin. His eyes seemed like a deeper blue than before, but still bright with happiness and scrunched slightly with a smile. Mathias' smile grew.

"You know you're staring, right?"

"Well, so are you," Lars said, trying not to sound too defensive.

"But I'm doing it for a reason. Do you have a reason, too?" Mathias grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. Lars scoffed.

"Trying not to feel uncomfortable? Does that work for you?" He smiled slightly, trying to show he wasn't mad though he might've sounded it. Mathias held his hands and moved away from Lars.

"Okay, okay. Point taken. I think I got all I need to know for now to design your tattoo. For now. Would you be alright coming by again, so I can show you some more designs?" Lars nodded.

"Yeah, I don't mind." Mathias' always present smile grew.

"Cool! I'm closing up for the night, so I don't mean to kick you out, but I gotta get home sometime." Lars smiled.

"No, it's alright. Do you want me to help with anything?" Mathias shook his head while grabbing his things from the back.

"Nah, everything's all good for the night." He lead the way out, flicking the lights off before closing the door behind the two of them and locking up. "I appreciate the thought though. And the company, thanks for coming by! When are you coming in again?"

"How does Monday work? That gives you some time to work on different designs, and then if you want to take the weekend off." Mathias nodded.

"Yeah, that's perfect! I'll see you then!" Mathias said before leaving with a wave in Lars' direction. Lars waved back, smiling the whole time he walked towards his car. Mathias might have some odd behaviors, but he was definitely fun to be around, Lars decided.

The next morning, Lovino greeted Lars with his usual cup of coffee while Lars was busy at work. Lovino placed the cup on the counter after announcing his arrival, looking at it almost scrutinizing it.

"'Morning," Lars said, his eyes going wide in surprise as he took a sip. Lovino smiled softly with a laugh.

"I figured that was something you wouldn't order. When Antonio said you wanted a hot cocoa, I was surprised!" Lars swallowed the hot liquid with a surprise.

"I'm surprised, too. Did he say anything about why?" Lovino shrugged, putting his hand out to stop Lars pulling money out.

"It's been paid for already. I think it has something to do with the note that Antonio said the guy requested when he called it in." Lars looked at the writing on the side and laughed softly.

"Mathias did this, didn't he?" Lovino raised his eyebrow.

"Are you two dating or something?"

"What? No," Lars said defensively. "I'm sure friends can buy each other coffee with nice notes on it." Lovino scoffed.

"Sure they can. They can also stay at each other's stores for no reason until late." He smiled knowingly. "That's how it always starts..." Lars rolled his eyes.

"You two are being so nosy. How come?"

"We got a bet," Lovino replied.

"A bet?" Lars asked unimpressed.

"Yeah. That's all I can say though. 'Tonio and I decided if we were to tell either of you what it was about, it wouldn't work as well." Lars huffed.

"Well, that's great. As long as you two don't start meddling too much, I don't care. Does Mathias know?" Lovino grinned.

"Why do you wanna know?"

"Because I'm curious."

"Well, I'm not sure. Antonio might've told him, but I didn't." Lars nodded, taking another sip now expecting it to be hot cocoa.

"I got one question for you though-- why? He's so happy, and he just seems so different from you." Lovino asked. Lars shrugged.

"Why'd you choose Antonio?"

"Because he wouldn't leave me the hell alone," Lovino grumbled before smiling. "But in all honesty, it's because he was persistent, and just so friendly. He makes me feel special." Lars nodded.

"Well, that's the same with Mathias. You've talked to him before, so you know how friendly he is." Lovino nodded.

"Yeah. He's got way too much energy, though. He's like a kid on too much sugar. Except the kid is six-foot-something and dressed like a soft aesthetic blog." Lars shrugged.

"I think it's cute that he's so energetic. He's like if a puppy became a person. A really happy and energetic puppy-man."

"Of course you'd think that, you have a crush on him!" Lovino said. "Anyways, I should head back. Let us know when you two finally get together!" Lovino called out while leaving. Lars flipped him off casually while taking a sip from his drink.

Lars was busy cleaning up for the weekend, making sure all the flowers had water and that they would be over the weekend when the phone went off.

"Hello, Lars' floral. How can I help?" He answered the phone. There was some muttered whispers before it sounded like the phone was passed along to someone.

"Hello, I'd like to order a bouquet," the voice on the other line said. Lars grabbed a pen and notepad from by the register.

"Alright, no problem. What arrangement would you like?" More whispering came before a reply.

"Can you do a dozen English roses? It's not really for any kind of occasion, so anything goes." Lars started writing.

"Any specific color? And what's the delivery address?" Even more whispering, this time Lars could make out the words 'No, don't you dare!'

"Not really. It's for someone special, so how would you make it? If it was for someone you cared about?" The voice followed with the address, which Lars scribbled. When thinking about the question, Lars looked over at the colorful shop across from him.

"For someone I like? I'd go with something colorful, but not too bright. Pinks and reds are a good choice for color, since they can show different feelings like love and passion. Anything soft, really. You don't wanna go too overboard, y'know?"

"That sounds perfect! When's the soonest you can bring it by?"

"I'm about to close for the weekend, so probably Monday at the soonest. If it's for someone really special though, I'm sure we can work something out." There was a rustling sound as the phone was passed again.

"That, uh, that won't be necessary! Monday works well!" The new voice said cheerfully.

"Okay, so Monday. I'll make sure it's one of the first to go out, so around ten in the morning?"

"That sounds perfect!" Lars confirmed the information and ran the caller's card before hanging up. He sighed before starting to work on the arrangement-- deciding on a mixture of burgundy and purple. Sure, it was late, but it sounded really important to whoever those two were. And the third person in the background, they sounded like they were too nervous to call. He smiled softly. It's not like he knew them, so why was that third person so worked up over a phone call? Love sure is weird, he thought. Maybe he was in love. It was really soon to be in love with Mathias already, but there's different kinds of love. Not to mention that Mathias was just so likable. Maybe a little annoying with how happy he always seemed to be, but it was endearing. He made the bouquet as he would if it was for Mathias, like the caller asked, and put it with his other deliveries before closing up for the weekend and going home late.

Lars stopped by Antonio and Lovino's café first thing Monday morning before starting deliveries. He was honestly a little excited to see the reaction from the call he got Friday night, so he went as quickly ad he could to get to deliver that one. He made it to the address, a small apartment not far from his shop. He knocked on the door and waited until it was opened.

"I've got a delivery for--" he cut himself off in surprise when he saw a very disheveled Mathias.

"Lars? Hey!" Lars was frozen because oh dear, he was hot. Mathias had on a pair of fluffy blue pajama pants and no shirt on, leaving his muscular chest exposed.

"Hey," he finally replied with a smile. "I got these for you. If I had known this address was yours, I might've waited instead of waking you up." Mathias waved his hand dismissively before grabbing the flowers.

"Nah, it's fine. They're beautiful, thanks! Who ordered them?" Lars shrugged.

"There was two people that called." Mathias immediately looked annoyed, but still smiling somehow.

"Did one of them sound like he'd be really scary, and the other really happy?" Lars shrugged.

"I wouldn't say scary about the first one, but the other guy was definitely happy." Mathias chuckled.

"Of course they did..." he muttered. "I know who called it in. I'll get them for this, don't worry!" Lars chuckled.

"Get them for what?" Mathias shrugged, but the look in his eyes and blush on his cheeks showed he knew.

"I dunno. Hey, help me come up with a plan to get back at them later tonight!" Lars nodded.

"Sounds good to me." Mathias grinned while Lars turned to leave, pulling him on a tight hug before waving and shutting the door. Lars stood in front of his door for a few moments, trying to get his heart to calm down. It was beating so fast, and he really didn't want to chase after it. As he walked back to his car, he knew right then he was done in for-- he definitely liked him. Mathias was so adorable and happy, but he was also hot! There was no way he could get over this any time soon. And if what he saw was right, he wouldn't have to. He might have a chance.

Lars showed up to Mathias' shop later after seven, so he had time to clean up before. Mathias smiled when he saw Lars before playfully pouting when he saw he was empty-handed.

"What, no flowers?" Lars laughed softly.

"I gave you some this morning! Besides, if I keep giving you flowers, they'll take over your whole shop." Mathias smiled.

"But that would be cool! I like flowers!" Lars laughed.

"It really means that much?"

"Yeah!" Mathias replied eagerly, running across the shop and running back with his sketchbook. "I got a whole bunch of new things to show you," he said while flipping through to what he was looking for. Lars leaned over and looked at the drawings Mathias showed him. Some were very rough, but as Mathias explained them, Lars could see where he was going with the ideas.

"What do you think? Which is your favorite?" Lars smiled.

"I like them all. You're a very talented artist, but, uh... what about you? Which is your favorite?" Mathias looked surprised.

"Mine? Uhm... I think this one," he flipped a few pages to show a drawing covering the full page of the roses Lars gave him that morning in an almost abstract style. The outlines were dark, and the coloring was very similar to Van Gogh's paintings, with different areas looking like they were splattered with paint over the edges of the flowers. The drawing took Lars' breath away.

"I... wow," Lars chuckled. "That's the one. That's what I want to have you tattoo on me. It's beautiful." Mathias smiled while blushing.

"You think so?" Lars nodded, smiling back.

"Oh yeah. It's really good. When do you wanna start inking it on me?" Mathias shrugged.

"Why not now? I can trace it onto some transfer paper real quick, and then start the outline and some other line work now." Lars smiled.

"I got a better idea. It's getting kind of late, so how about you just start with the transfer, and then we can go out to get something to eat. You haven't had dinner yet, have you?" Mathias shook his head.

"Not yet. I was about to, though! Right after I got started with your tattoo..." Lars scoffed.

"That would take a while. Come on, let's get something to eat. My treat." Lars stood up and started heading towards the door.

"But, the tattoo..." Mathias started, looking towards Mathias confused. "Isn't that what you want?" Lars shrugged.

"I mean, yeah, it looks cool. It'll come out great. But, you've been in here all day, and I've been driving around all day doing deliveries. I wanna make sure we're both taking care of ourselves. C'mon," Lars walked backed towards Mathias and placed his hand on his shoulder. Mathias smiled dreamily at Lars, placing his hand on top of Lars' while standing.

"Alright, alright. Only because you asked so nicely." Lars smiled back and lead the way out. On the way over to Lars' car (they decided to take his since it was closer, though not by much), he saw Antonio and Lovino sitting at one of their tables talking. They both waved to them, but was Lars was the only one to notice the thumbs-up and excited smile Antonio gave him and the less-excited smile Lovino had while they waved back. He rolled his eyes while moving closer to Mathias as they reached his car.

They ate together at a small restaurant down the road Mathias swore by. At first glance, Lars could understand why he was so enamored with the place. Most of the decoration was a variety of plants and flowers, and a lot of the light was string lights that somehow seemed dim, but with enough kept the place well lit.

"This place seems a lot like you," Lars commented before taking a sip from his water. Mathias looked up curiously while playing with the swizzle stick in his lemonade.

"What do you mean?"

"The whole, eh, aesthetic of the place. It's soft, and comfortable. You give off a similar vibe." Mathias smiled.

"Aw, you think I'm soft?"

"Well, yeah," Lars replied with a soft smile. "You dress in soft colors, you just look really soft and adorable... it's hard to explain, but you just are." He chuckled. Mathias' smile grew.

"I'm so glad. Sometimes, people really don't think I'm nice or anything, that I just dress it. 'Guess it's cause I look kinda tough without the flowers and stuff." He shrugged.

"I don't see anything wrong with you looking tough, or soft, or however you wanna look. It doesn't take away from how nice you are."

"You know what, Lars? You're a nice guy, too. I like being around you," Mathias grinned, "You're not judgemental, or anything. You're way friendlier than you let off, too." Lars tilted his head before Mathias continued after taking a sip from his drink.

"It's all the black. And the piercings. You look kinda like you'd be in a mosh pit instead of a garden. But, I like it. It defies stereotypes." Lars smiled.

"We both kinda crush stereotypes, don't we?" Mathias smiled back.

"Yeah we do! And it's awesome! We're a couple of oddballs, making our way in a world full of generalizations!" Mathias said eagerly, his eyes bright enough from excitement and happiness to light all around them for at least a block away. Lars couldn't help but smile along. Their orders were brought out shortly after. Once they were finished, Lars paid for the meal and walked back with Mathias to his car. Mathias walked closely beside Lars, latching on to Lars' hand after his brushed it a few times. Lars squeezed Mathias' hand in his to say it was alright without breaking the comfortable silence between the two of them. Lars looked over at Mathias, who was smiling up at him. Lars stopped walking, still staring at Mathias. Under the streetlights, his confused eyes seem to radiate more than usual, and the warmth of his rosy cheeks brought his freckles out even more.

"Can I kiss you?" Lars asked without thinking. Mathias blushed even more, laughing nervously.

"I...uh-- sure? You don't... You don't have to ask, y'know. I like you enough to be okay with kissing you, I'm holding your hand, after all." He held up his hand joined with Lars' to demonstrate his point. Lars smiled.

"Yeah, but I still think it's polite to ask." He leaned over and kissed Mathias' cheek softly before continuing towards his car. Mathias laughed softly, his free hand brushing against his cheek.

"You could've kissed me on the lips..." he sounded slightly disappointed, Lars noticed. When they reached his car, Lars moved closer and kissed Mathias' lips, pulling him closer gently by his hands, one on Mathias' neck and the other around his waist. Mathias hummed softly and wrapped his arms around Lars, moving closer. Lars pulled away and smiled softly. Mathias smiled back as he got into Lars' car, his smile so large the corners of his eyes were squished together into a squint.

"Go out with me?" Mathias asked. Lars pecked his lips and smiled.

"Yeah."

A few weeks passed after their first date, but both of them kept their relationship fairly quiet. That was, until Antonio came into Lars' shop that morning with his coffee.

"Hey, Lars?" Antonio asked, handing him his coffee.

"Hmm?" He asked while taking a sip. Antonio looked at his elbow and smiled.

"Is that new?" Lars hummed in response and nodded.

"Yeah. 't's cool, isn't it?" He smiled fondly at the colorful tattoo.

"It is! You must like it a whole lot, to be wearing something with short sleeves in the fall." Lars shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

"Money for the coffee is over there," he pointed towards the other side of the counter, close to the door. Mathias walked in as Antonio went to collect the money. He greeted Antonio before walking behind the counter and pecking Lars' cheek.

"'Morning, dear. Ooh, what's that?" He asked while carefully picking up the arrangement.

"One of the deliveries. I got the one you wanted for your friends all loaded up." He smiled.

"Thanks. I really want them to know how much appreciate that small thing they did, having you deliver to my apartment." He kept one arm wrapped around Lars. Antonio was smiling as if he was about to explode from happiness.

"Ooh, I knew you two would get together! You should've seen him after he first met you, oh my god!" Mathias laughed while looking over at Lars, who was glaring a hole through Antonio.

"What was he like?" Mathias asked excitedly. Lars sighed.

"I might've... buried my face against the counter and screamed a little? You're just so adorable, I can't help it." He said while blushing slightly. Antonio laughed.

"I wasn't going to say that, but that's even better! That proves what I told you, you are in love!" Mathias' smile grew.

"Aw, that is adorable! You're such an adorable guy, Lars!" He poked Lars' cheek. Lars swatted his hand away playfully.

"I'm gonna have to go make deliveries soon, you two realize, right?" Lars asked while his face flushed. Antonio smiled while heading for the door.

"Alright, alright. I'll let you two say goodbyes. And collect my money from Lovi!" He said before leaving with a wave. Mathias giggled.

"I can't believe they bet on us." Lars shrugged, giving Mathias a hug.

"Me either." He kissed Mathias once, twice, lingering a third time. Mathias pulled away and gently grabbed Lars' arm.

"Is it healing alright?" He surveyed the sight of his new tattoo. Lars laughed softly while pulling his arm away.

"It's fine. You should get back to your shop." Mathias nodded, kissing Lars one last time before walking back across the way. He blew him a kiss before entering his shop. Lars caught it and smiled before locking the front door and going around the back to his car and loading up deliveries for the day.

A/N: each bouquet listed had a specific meaning, so here's what the meant based off what I found on google! -peach roses: appreciation, enthusiasm; anemones(couldn't find a meaning specific to color): good look -light red carnations: admiration; yellow roses: friendship -burgundy roses: unrealized love; purple roses: enchantment, love at first sight