#as in tacky rambles a whole fucking lot

[jabberwockprince]

finished the fake stars of vinyl city intros for my bebes <3 kind of a redesign/redraw of the old ones here

sometimes, revolution starts with a violent and petty mechanic, their younger brother who really wants to join the airforce and a defective 1010 they both found in the trash! rambling about them under the cut

Rikki is a former troublemaker and musician who had to sort their life out back into the straight and narrow to raise their little brother, Yiruk. So they went and got a degree in engineering! They're responsible for upgrading the NSR bots and adding extra levels for the Approach stages (entirely because I wanted to make those more relevant, teehee)

To level the field, Rikki also offers upgrades and cosmetics for Mayday and Zuke's transformation thingamajigs! All in exchange for "spare parts" - these can be obtained by playing specific levels with specific remixes/modes, namely 1010 or Approach levels.

After buying all of Rikki's upgrades, they reveal to Mayday and Zuke that all the spare parts they've been getting are going into fixing a friend of theirs - a defective 1010 robot hiding in Dream Fever.

That defective 1010 robot is Ban! He was meant to be another replacement for Haym, but a little oopsie during a concert got his ass benched and set up for repairs. Afraid of being reset, he ran away and found Yiruk, who then convinced Rikki to patch him up.

His name is short for banana, because he looks like one and they're sweet just like him. Do not question him, it's his new life as a rogue bot and he gets to pick his name <3 Ban loves to wear clothes with tacky patterns and bright colors, like cheetah or zebra prints! So he unlocks a bunch of tacky clothes for Mayday and Zuke

He's absolutely going through a lot of shit regarding his identity and individuality and general newfound consciousness, but he remains very upbeat and peppy about the whole thing. He's one bolt away from snapping though.

I like to think that the rock revolution lasted way longer, with NPCs Mayday and Zuke met kinda taking over their own respective districts - so B2J inspiring Yiruk to be a rockstar causes Yiruk to start a band with Rikki and Ban. Which indirectly leads to the fall of Metro District during the rock revolution <3 like come on, those fuckin cannons in the final level that are literally built to look like Mayday and Zuke's faces????? thats so fucking COOL i wish they expanded more on this section

[inter--cept]

media i wish could exist, but it wont

i have a lot of ideas like this, so i thought i’d take the time to write a recent one out. really a fucking ramble though im not even gonna try to organize this, sorry if youre reading it a movie i wish existed is something titled along the lines of PHYSICS / DAGGER / [something in all-caps and SCP/GOC coded] following a Global Occult Coalition team working in a large city (perhaps a megastructure created by 184) to quash [insert GoI here] efforts to acquire the object in question, and then destroy it. i feel some re-naming of various things is in order (Chaos Insurgency is a bit tacky), or names just left vague for such organizations. part of what builds horror is leaving some things unknown, and that cannot be possible really with the whole knowledge of the SCP wiki and Wanderer’s Library being relevant. So perhaps the anomalous situation in this film could be retracted to only include the Coldest War canon, and some select entries and GoIs? I have always imagined such a thing as being set sometime around 2019 - could be any modern enough year really. the setting just needs to be familiar to most people so that the effect of things that aren’t supposed to happen *happening* takes hold more quickly and (ideally) viscerally. it would borrow a lot of stylistic and narrative aspects from Tenet and DECLARE, with firefights executed like HEAT (blanks, real audio, actual small-unit tactics employed at the time of making, no score during action, grounded character actions, actual radio protocol, etc). to me, the looming sense of the unknown horrors being compartmentalized above your head in DECLARE is really special. tenet sort of has that, but what strikes me more is how the whole movie feels separated from time, not only because of its plot, but the nature of the forces at work in it. Combining that detached, cold sensation with the Looming Horrors (but you’ve got to serve) could make it not necessarily the most unique, but at the least very poignant. and a movie usually has a score of some sort, right? this is probably my industrial / noise / dark ambient skew showing, but i initially came up with this while listening to Maenad Veyl’s album, Body Count. it’s consistently unnerving - sometimes energetic, sometimes ominous. The sheer bass combined with harsh claps, the reversed and chopped bells / xylophone / triangle, random ominous strings i cant identify, its all wonderful and feels slightly otherworldly

[digitaldollsworld]

Okay I hate this trial and I forget how long and convoluted it is but before I go to sleep I will say that there are a lot of things I like about this chapter. Celeste’s major reveal is really good (even tho it is a bit convenient for she and Hiro to have the same name; but now, in hindsight, it makes total sense for her to go for Hiro and to push for him specifically/try to frame him, etc. When I first got into DR, I legit had no idea why she would try to frame Hiro of all people until the very end the trial. Very interesting.)

I love the buildup to the 4th trial, which is my second favorite of this entire game. We’re already getting the very cemented character foil of Hina & Byakuya; it’s already made itself apparent just by the way they carry themselves, but it’s particularly starting to become more obvious in this trial (Hina crying and being v v rattled by the bodies, vs. Byakuya not only initially calling the investigation boring, but also then turning around to laugh and say that they would be better off without Toko. Which Hina calls him out for as well. She says something along the lines of: “How could you say something like that?”) EXCELLENT foreshadowing. Ahhh god their whole character foil and dynamic is just so so good.

I love the fact that nearly everybody instantly accused Hiro, bc that’s where the evidence obviously initially pointed, but from the jump Makoto never did that… perhaps bc he knows how it feels to be instantly accused of being guilty without anybody pulling out any fucking evidence, doing any investigation, or using any critical thinking. I think that he empathized with him.

The naegiri’s being cemented here too. I don’t think they’ve gotten into their little spat yet, right? But Makoto straight up asks her where tf she was for like, 90% of this investigation, and asks her to tell him? And she’s like “no lol” and gets v defense. When they do have their little spat, iirc he’s like “how the hell are you gonna get mad at me for keeping a secret when that’s all you’ve been doing this entire time, is keeping secrets?” And ofc I’m sure he’s referring to this whole investigation as well.

Celeste as a whole is such an interesting fucking character to me. Her mindset, her coping mechanisms, her motives and her backstory. The way she went about this trial. The way she slowly loses grasp on her facade and composure the more and more the trial drags out. The way she reacted to her execution Really, all of it is really good. I like her character. Even tho this trial… ugh I just don’t like it for the most part. It just drags out forever and ever. But it’s good for what it is.

(Last thing but this is just something stupid. They find Hifumi’s Princess Piggles glasses cloth and Makoto’s like “oh it has to be Hifumi’s. He’s the only person that would use something like this” and everybody points out that the only other people who wear glasses, that it could even possibly be, are Toko and Byakuya. And Byakuya straight up is like “I wouldn’t be caught dead using a tacky piece of garbage like that.” Please he’s so fucking funny 💀

Okay that’s it enough rambling I’m going to bed goodnight aklfjsdjfjsd

[tackyink]

Rambling for real about things that happened ages ago. tl;dr my school from 16 to 18 was pretty crappy

I was reading the link to the Père Lachaise bat lore on the last reblog because I did a project on that cemetery, along with a few others, when I was 17. In order to graduate from our equivalent of high school, you need to do a big project with a presentation on your last year, and my school forced us to make it a group project because the faculty just didn’t want to deal with triple or quadruple work. They heartily recommended us to pick people from our own class and do something related to our branch of study, so of course I went and joined forces with my close friend group, which was split into three separate branches (tech, humanities and social sciences). Our homeroom teachers didn’t seem to mind a lot, so we went to grab something to eat after school and brainstorm about what we could do.

In the end, we settled on cemetery art. There’s a couple of interesting cemeteries in our city, so we could do field work instead of just doing a lot of copy pasting from the internet and books.

Problem was that not only did the faculty not want to work, our Art History teacher, who actually liked the idea, was unavailable, and no one else wanted to work specifically with us because they thought the subject was too creepy.

Let’s keep in mind that these were a bunch of 50-something year olds refusing to supervise some teens’ project because they thought looking at angel statues was scary. I... just... what.

In the end, we were assigned the French teacher, who according to the only one of us who had her as a teacher was a bit nasty, and hoo BOY.

There were two groups under her supervision, and she favored the other one and couldn’t even be discreet about it. At least once a week we met with her for an hour to review our progress, and she spent at most 10 minutes looking at our material, not even feigning interest or offering any suggestions, to then go to the other group and chat with them until the time was up. This went on for months. This project was 10% of our grade and the most civil thing that woman said to us all along was that it was nice that we had translated and cleaned up a statue chart that we found on the internet. We ended up doing everything by ourselves.

My Spanish Lit teacher, bless his certified weirdo soul, and my homeroom teacher were the only adults that attended our presentation in a cramped room that wasn’t even used for lessons, and I guess the French teacher hadn’t been saying very nice things about our work because both were pleasantly surprised with the result and congratulated us.

Then, the final nail in the coffin was when the grades came out. We got a 9 out of 10. Nobody in the school got a 10 because according to the teachers we asked, “the perfect project doesn’t exist.”

This was a problem, because students averaging 9 to 10 on a global scale get their first year of university free, and there’s a limit to how many of those a school can give out. One of my female-presenting friends and I were essentially competing for one of the three available spots, and we really needed that extra point because guys had an advantage over us: our PE teacher was a sleazy sexist bastard and it was well known that he never graded guys below 7 and girls above 6, barring two exceptions: we could get up to an 8 playing extracurricular sports or, in one spectacular case we witnessed, being a literal model with very bouncy tits. This isn’t a jab at her, she was a professional model and dressed as such, even to school, and looked older than her age. He liked that. How’s that for creepy, faculty?

Adding to that, I fucked up my knee playing basketball when I was 15 and relapsed at 16, so I had to sit out PE classes for most of the year. I had a flat 5 in my report card.

Our saving grace came with the final meetings the teachers had at the end of our second year. I would bet a lot of money that it was a combo effort by our homeroom teachers, the Spanish Lit wacky man, and the Latin teacher, but they decided to up our PE grades so we could have a 10 in our global grade and get that free pass to university. To which we went together, by the way, so group projects were never shit again.

I didn’t fully realize the gravity of all this until I was older, but the rampant disfunction and cronyism in that school nearly left me out of university. There’s no way I could have afforded it, and with the rapid rise of uni prices in the following years and the economic crisis, there’s even less of a chance that I would have been able to save money and go later. I was very fortunate to have a few choice people willing to stick their necks out for me, but I also hope the French and PE teachers choked on a spiky dick in the years that have elapsed since then. At least they fired the English teacher after only ~10% of us passed the English test in our uni access exams.

[jaskierswolf]

Flaming Desires

Summary: In a world where soulmates are connected through their kinks and sexual desires, Geralt and Jaskier decide to try out something new in the bedroom. Luckily for both of them, Geralt is a firefighter.

Rating: E

CW: No sex but lots of sexual content, wax play, dom/sub vibes, general hoey vibes, mentions of sex work.

Part three in this AU, part two written by @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde. Your turn babe 😘

Also shout out to @kuripon for beta-ing

________

Dreams; they were going to be Geralt’s downfall. On the menu this week was wax play, something that hadn’t even realised he was into, but he just couldn’t stop dreaming about it. Jaskier had taken the week off filming for his OnlyFans page, so it wasn’t a video, and yet Geralt couldn’t see an ordinary tea light without getting hard. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem but Jaskier had arranged a date that evening so the two of them were sat in Jaskier’s kitchen with the lights down low, and a tacky christmas candle holder sat in the middle of the table.

And Geralt couldn’t stop watching the flame, the tiny pool of molten wax at the base of the wick. It was ridiculous but he had to sit on his hand to stop himself from reaching for the candle and dipping his fingers into the wax. He’d never had this problem before. He was a firefighter for god’s sake, fire wasn’t sexy.

“Jask?”

“Yes, darling?” Jaskier cocked his head, a coy smile playing on his lips.

“Are the candles a you thing?” Geralt asked, groaning as he tried to ignore his erection and eat his food but it was persistent and he was feeling particularly horny.

His soulmate just chuckled, never breaking eye contact as his lips wrapped around his fork. The bastard then had the audacity to moan softly, licking his lips in a way that was unfairly seductive, and Geralt was about two seconds from clearing the table and having his way with Jaskier right then and there.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jaskier purred in a low voice. “I have plans tonight, and I will not have you ruin them by being a brute.”

“Fuck you.”

“Spoilers,” the musician trilled, winking as he sipped his wine. The liquid stained his lips red which only made him look even more irresistible.

“I regret introducing you to Doctor Who,” Geralt groaned.

“No you don’t, you love me,” Jaskier giggled.

“You never answered the question,” Geralt reminded him gently, “Candles?”

His soulmate hummed, tongue swiping across his lips, as he tilted his head. Long fingers danced along the rim of his wine glass, and his blue eyes twinkled in the candlelight. All in all, Jaskier looked ethereal, something out of a painting, a fairytale. He even had the name to match, Jaskier, Buttercup, Dandelion. Geralt’s beautiful flower; gorgeous and deadly.

And completely insatiable.

“I thought they were a you thing?” Jaskier asked slowly.

Maybe they were, or maybe they’d ended up in some weird kinky loop through the soulbond… which Geralt had finally admitted existed. There was just no way it was some kind of coincidence. When he was feeling intolerably horny, there was Jaskier lying on his bed at the end of work, dressed in the prettiest stockings and Dandelion’s make-up. When he was feeling in the mood for just a good nature documentary and cuddles, Jaskier would turn up at his door with two onesies and a bag of takeout. They were just in sync, almost every day.

Geralt had never had someone in his life that had understood him like this before and it was completely exhilarating-- terrifying, but exhilarating. His brothers teased him about it relentlessly, and they were both careful about telling people how they really met, but Geralt had never been happier.

Even if he was discovering kinks he never knew he had.

Wax play… really?

“Well, fuck.”

Jaskier frowned, scratching absentmindedly at the scruff that was beginning to grow. He preferred to stay clean shaven for Dandelion, but in between videos he got lazy, and Geralt would be the first to admit it was a good look on his boyfriend. “Did you want to?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, probably far too quickly. “Yes,” he repeated more slowly as he felt his cheeks heat up, “but I don’t know how.”

Jaskier’s hand cupped his cheek, fingers caressing his jaw as they fell away. “I’ve done research. Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

“Well, that’s a lie. You wouldn’t even let me chop the vegetables,” Jaskier teased.

The memory of Jaskier’s cack-handed attempts at prepping the veg made Geralt shudder. The knives had been blunt and Jaskier had narrowly avoided a trip to A&E. “I trust you,” Geralt said again, grinning at his boyfriend, “just not with things that could kill you.”

“Fire kills,” Jaskier reminded him, “or didn’t my insanely pretty firefighter boyfriend forget?”

“I won’t let the house burn down, Jask.”

His soulmate giggled. “Can you imagine that phone call? ‘Hey, Eskel, It’s Geralt. We almost burnt Jaskier’s flat down playing with candles in the bedroom.’” Jaskier’s tone took on a gruff growl as he mimicked Geralt’s voice.

And that was it. Geralt stood up and pulled his soulmate into a kiss before he could protest, the taste of shitty red wine still on his lips. Jaskier moaned into the kiss, his fingers digging into Geralt’s hips and they both stumbled to the bedroom, dinner promptly forgotten.

In Jaskier’s bedroom were a few candles, plain looking, and yet Geralt felt a whole new wave of arousal. They were actually doing this, and Jaskier had apparently prepared. He was pleased to see a small bucket of water in the corner of the room and the fire blanket from the kitchen. There were times that he forgot that Jaskier and Dandelion the sex worker were the same person. Jaskier was a professional, and he took everything they did very seriously… and Geralt fucking loved him for it. He felt safe when they played like this, and it even gave him the confidence to submit to his soulmate. That hadn’t happened very often before Jaskier.

Geralt squeezed Jaskier’s hand as he pulled him over to the bed, cupping his cheeks as they kissed lazily, neither in any real rush, until Jaskier pulled away. He was smiling softly at Geralt in a way that made his heart flutter, as if there was any doubt how much Geralt loved him.

“Take off your shirt, love,” Jaskier told him, pressing a final kiss to Geralt’s cheek before getting up to fetch the candles. “I ordered a soy candle, it’s meant to be good for beginners. Cooler burn rate, but you will let me know if it hurts too much? We can stop at any time, just say your word,” Jaskier started to ramble, a nervous habit that Geralt found so endearing.

He pulled off his shirt before crossing the room to press his lips to the nape of Jaskier’s neck and his arms wrapped around his boyfriend’s middle. “Stop worrying, Julek.”

“Oh,” Jaskier hummed.

“I trust you,” Geralt reminded him.

“Hmm, I love you,” Jaskier murmured, spinning in Geralt’s arms and capturing his lips in a kiss. “Okay, right, on the bed.”

“Back or front?” Geralt asked, but he already knew the answer. He always seemed to know, but Jaskier liked to verbalise it so Geralt let him, especially as this was a new kind of play for them.

“Front please. Thank you, darling,” Jaskier smiled warmly as he struck a match, the soft golden glow from the flame lighting up his face beautiful, before he lit one of the candles.

Geralt did as he was told, propping himself up on his arms whilst he waited for his soulmate. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift, focusing on the soft melody that Jaskier was humming under his breath. There was a tingle of heat itching under his skin, and he was pretty sure his boxers were a mess in his trousers from the way his cock was aching. He had no doubt he was already leaking, but he did his best to stay still, resisting the urge to rut against the mattress. Jaskier would tell him if he were allowed to do so.

“Oh look at you, absolutely perfect, pretty as a picture,” Jaskier cooed.

His cheeks burnt, and he had to bury his face in his arms. Geralt loved the praise, but he was easily overwhelmed by it, in a good way, mostly. He still struggled to believe that Dandelion, his crush for so long, was now his boyfriend - no - his soulmate, that the videos were and always had been practically made for before either of them knew.

Jaskier pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and he hummed, letting his boyfriend know he was okay, and then Jaskier’s fingers were in his hair, scraping against his scalp. The sensation was nearly too much and he moaned, the sound muffled by his arms. Jaskier chuckled as he pulled Geralt’s hair into what felt like a ribbon, and then Geralt felt his boyfriend’s hands run down the length of his spine.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

They’d barely started and already he felt like his entire body was on fire. He felt heady with arousal and his cock was aching to be touched.

“Ready?” Jaskier asked, his voice sounding as wrecked as Geralt felt.

Geralt just grunted, and then, at Jaskier’s stern silence, mumbled a ‘yes’. He shivered as he felt Jaskier’s breath against his skin, gasping as Jaskier swatted his arse. The room was silent apart from the soft singing of his soulmate, and Geralt could do nothing but wait patiently, or rather impatiently.

Until…

“Cock!” Jaskier spluttered, his words swiftly followed by a resounding thud.

“What the fuck?”

He bolted upright, still feeling a little spaced, but he recognised the smell of carpet burning and it was enough to cut through the fog in his mind. Jaskier was sitting on the floor, legs sprawled and the candle had fallen onto the rug, catching on the synthetic fibres.

“Jaskier!” he growled, snapping his boyfriend from his shock.

“Oh- oh fuck!” Jaskier scrambled for the water bucket.

The fire didn’t last long but the mood was killed. They both just stared at each other across the singed rug, until Jaskier cracked a smile and they burst into laughter. Jaskier couldn’t stop apologising in between fits of giggles, pressing his face into Geralt’s neck to hide his embarrassment. Despite the almost torturous week of wet dreams prior, Geralt could only chuckle as he held his boyfriend close.

They would just have to try again another day.

[dandunn]

Do you like American Gods (the book)? It's one of my faves so I'm curious to hear your opinion on it :)

Sorry had to delay answering this because I had about 50 pages left and I had to run and finish it haha.

I really liked it! Sometimes the pacing was a bit... leisurely, but that's not always a bad thing. It really feels like one huge road trip where enjoying the journey is the whole point.

I pretty much immediately liked and related to Shadow and he's probably the reason why I decided to splash and buy the book. Protagonists who are huge and strong and maybe have a bad rep, but are also more kind and more intelligent than they let on are TOTALLY the best kind and want to kiss him.

I think my favourite gods were definitely the Egyptian pantheon, Mr Ibis/Thoth, Jacquel/Anubis, Horus and Bast. I was an Egyptology kid so I fucking love those guys. The part where *mild spoiler* Shadow gets a bit dead and sees their true forms was one of my favourite bits.

I also really enjoyed the side story involving the car on the ice where it became a murder mystery because Holy shit. That payoff was great (I figured it was obvious who did it but the reveal still made me 🤯)

The whole main plot reveal was also great, I love how the story kind of switched gears like that. And Laura's whole payoff was also amazing. Rest in peace girl.

Ummm yeah I'm also kind of an nerd for gaudy, awful, tacky Americana so I loved seeing real places like House on the Rock and Rock City come into it. Like wow! that place sounds awful and I thought it was a great place for the gods to square off.

I could probably ramble a bit more but maybe I'll do that if/when I watch the show. BUT I also like how there's chapters that go into the dark side of American history because there's a LOT of it and I found some chapters challenging to read, like the stuff about slavery and the many awful things done in the name of colonisation. But you know. It Happened and its good that Gaiman doesn't shy away from it at all.

I dunno I just thought that was admirable, and me not being American I just... flat out didn't learn about this stuff in school, especially the native American side of things (side note: I also rly like Whiskey Jack as a character he's fun)

I'm sure people smarter than me have spoken in more detail about this series and I'm VERY late to the party but yeah 😂 Shadow call me pls 😍📞

[idnek83]

Can u write something about soudam wedding?

I’m sorry this took like 3 weeks to answer, but here you go: 4.3k word worth of Soudam wedding ramblings.

(This is for a western style wedding by the way)

Wedding Planning

Neither of them know what they’re doing, cus neither of them ever really spent much time thinking about weddings growing up, much less their own weddings lol

So one day, after they’re engaged, they’re just hanging out with some friends. They’re on a couch, Soda’s laying with his head in Gundham’s lap, just vibing, then their friends start asking about what they have planned. They both kind of look at each other and shrug, cus they have planned literally nothing, they just know they kind of want to get married on their anniversary, but that’s really all they’ve got lol.

Sonia like presses them for ideas cus they must have at least some idea of what they want, right?

Soda looks up at Gundham and is like ‘probably lots of black stuff, yeah?’

Gundham nods and looks down at him ‘perhaps with vibrant accents in your preferred colors as well?’

Soda’s like ‘Oooh and we could have like an animal theme maybe?? OH! OR A ROBOT ANIMAL THEME????’ and Gundhams just like ‘whatever makes you happy’ and they throw out a couple more terrible ideas while Sonia silently suffers lol.

Eventually they’re laughing at their own stupid ideas and Sonia is just glad they actually realize their ideas were dumb and they didn’t seriously want a goth robot hamster ice sculpture lol. They admit they don’t super care how it all goes down, they both just want to get married and have fun with all their friends at the reception.

Sonia offers to take care of the planning and stuff with her team of professionals (Yes she has a team on wedding planners okay, she’s the kind of person who has been planning her wedding since she was 9 and also she’s a princess so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯). She seems really excited and Soda and Gundham really don’t know what they’re doing so they agree to let her handle it as long as they get the final say on things. She immediately starts rambling about all her ideas and Soda and Gundham just kind of chuckle and smile at each other.

 Suit shopping

Fuyuhiko takes them suit shopping. They go together, they aren’t too concerned about keeping their outfits a secret from each other and they figure it’ll be fun to watch each other try on all kind of different things. Sonia comes too of course.

They start kind of idlily browsing sample suits (they’re getting custom suits made, Fuyuhiko wouldn’t hear otherwise) and Sonia asks what kind of suits they’d like to see each other in. They both stop and look at each other, and Fuyu rolls his eyes cus they’re just blatantly checking each other out lol.

Eventually Soda shrugs and is like “I don’t really care. As long as I get to see Gundham looking hot as hell in a tux I’m good with whatever” and Gundham kind of tilts his head and is like “So you would prefer me to wear a tuxedo?” Soda is dumb as hell and doesn’t realize Gundham is not using ‘tuxedo’ as a synonym for ‘suit’ like he was, so he gets super blushy and is like “Oh. I-I mean if you were thinking about a dress instead that’s cool too.” And Gundham’s eyes just widen a bit because he was not thinking about wearing a dress but now he’s thinking about Soda in a big, white, full skirted wedding dress. Soda is picturing Gundham in something a little more fitted with a high slit. They’re both just blushing and staring at each other until Fuyu clears his throat and tells Soda that a tuxedo is a type of suit, and he’s pretty sure that’s what Gundham meant. Soda just hides his face in his hands and apologizes. Gundham comes over to kiss his forehead and tell him it’s okay, and eventually they get back to looking at suits lol

Gundham’s done pretty quick. He does end up picking a tuxedo, and I’m not great at fashion but Just picture something black, very gothic, and a tiny bit extra haha. Soda super excited to see it once it’s done being made, cus Gundham already looked amazing in the sample suit. He maybe gets a little emotional looking at his fiancé all dressed up knowing it’s for their wedding, but nobody says anything and Gundham just smiles at him softly.

Soda has a lot more trouble. He doesn’t want to ruin their wedding by wearing something tacky so he’s trying to stick to traditional black. But every time he comes out and looks at himself in the full length mirror he can’t help but feel uncomfortable. He doesn’t look like himself,  he thinks he looks like some kid borrowing his dad’s suit for prom.

He’s on like the 12th sample suit, he’s trying all kinds of styles and different lapels and undershirts/vest combos but he still just feels like trash in all of them. This suit fits him like a glove, accentuates all of his best features, and he honestly looks so good in it. Sonia and Fuyuhiko are telling him as much, along with whatever staff are around.

But Soda still doesn’t feel like himself. And Gundham can tell.

Gundham comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist and they both just look at themselves in the mirror for a moment. Gundham makes a point of frowning as he looks at the suit and Soda laughs at how obviously exaggerated it is. It’s the first time he’s genuinely smiled in at least an hour.

“What’s wrong, babe? Don’t like it?”

“Hmm… perhaps if it was yellow… maybe blue?”

Soda laughs but he feels a little self conscious. He really doesn’t want to make their wedding tacky, but he just doesn’t feel right in such… boring colors. He tells Gundham as much. Gundham hums and kisses his cheek, still holding him from behind, and asks to see color samples for the suits materials while Soda insists he’ll be fine and he’ll just get used to the black.

Someone brings Gundham a collection of cloth samples, and he finally separates from his fiancé to stand in front of him and hold them up, one by one. Soda is insisting black is fine the whole time. Eventually Gundham stops, holding up a sort of deep red, and tilts his head. Soda looks at the color; he likes it, but he’s still worried it would be kind of tacky. Gundham asks for someone to bring him a jacket in that color.

He puts it on Soda and grabs a black suit jacket and a red tie for himself, before standing next to Soda and linking their arms. Soda looks in the mirror and, hey, that’s not too bad, the red actually looks pretty classy, and paired up with Gundham’s tie it looks…

He starts crying, but it’s mostly relief and happiness. Fuyu laughs at him but tells him he looks good and Sonia just smiles while Gundham pulls him into a hug. They order the 12th suit in red, and every time Soda tries t apologize for being so difficult Gundham just shuts him up with a kiss lol.

Wedding Traditions and Stuff

They start talking about wedding traditions one day after having a conversation with Sonia about how the wedding plans are going. The first thing that comes up is the whole ‘bride walking down the aisle’ thing since, obviously, there isn’t gonna be a bride. Gundham suggests they both just walk out together, but Soda kind of wants that moment where he’s standing at the alter and gets to watch Gundham walk down the aisle towards him. Gundham just smiles and kisses him and says he’s like that too.

Soda suggests they take dance lessons or something so they can have a cool first dance. Gundham says they can if he really wants to, but he would rather just be able to hold Soda close and sway to the music without having to worry about memorized steps. Soda blushes and agrees, he mostly suggested it cus he thought Gundham would like it anyways.

Neither of them really care about name changes. They both offer to change theirs, but in the end they just decide to keep their own names.

Sonia (jokingly) mentions being disappointed because there won’t be a bouquet toss, and Chiaki (also jokingly) responds that Gundham should just toss a single rose into the crowd like tuxedo mask. He agrees to do it (not jokingly)

They both write their own stupid sappy vows, it’s not even something they have to discuss.

Hajime is Soda’s best man, Sonia is Gundham’s. She insists on being called ‘best man’ instead of ‘maid of honor’ or ‘best woman’ because she likes the way it sounds lol.

They pick a very classic décor theme, but add in a lot of black accents for the aesthetic✨

They decide to do that thing where they spend the night before the wedding apart and don’t see each other again until the actual ceremony.

Bachelor Party

Soda wasn’t planning on having his own bachelor party, he figured they could just have like a joint bachelor party at their house or something because he loves his fiancé and prefers to party with him lol. But then Fuyuhiko, Hajime, and Nekomaru are carrying him out the front door while Gundham casually waves and tells him to have fun lol (They absolutely got Gundham’s permission before kidnapping his man haha).

(Gundham invites Sonia over for wine and calls it his bachelor party. They watch the bachelor and laugh about how funny they are.)

Soda is thrown in the back seat of one of Fuyu’s fancy cars with blacked out windows and yells at his friends for like the whole trip while they just laugh at him lol. They eventually get to a bar and Soda is just super relieved it’s not a strip club, Hajime tells him it’s cus Gundham wouldn’t let him, but Fuyu and Nekomaru insist it’s cus they have more class than that. (Whose lying? You choose lol).

They get a table and a round of shots as soon as they get inside. It’s actually pretty laid back as far as bachelor parties go, they mostly just sit and talk, and get Soda gushing about his soon to be husband lol. At one point, after a couple drinks, they do like a chugging contest for the first time since they graduated uni and Soda wins. Fuyu is just like ‘wtf when did you get so good at this?” and Soda is like “Well, thanks to Gundham I’ve gotten really good at swallowing” and everybody just fucking groans while he loses his mind laughing lol

As the night goes on Soda just gets sappier and sappier and starts complaining about how much he misses his boyfriend. Nekomaru pats him on the back and is like ‘he isn’t even your boyfriend anymore, he’s your fiancé’ and Soda just light up like ‘yeah… I’m so lucky…’ before he stops and his eyes go wide. The other guys kind of look at each other, confused, before Hajime’s like ‘uh, you good dude?’ and Soda’s just like ‘oh my god, he’s my fiancé! We’re gonna get fucking married next week!! Holy shit that means he’s gonna be my husband! I have to tell him!’ and the guys just laugh while he dials Gundham.

Gundham is surprised to get a call from Soda and gets a little worried, so he answers like ‘is everything alright, my paramour?’ and Soda is just like ‘Holy shit Gundham! Did you realize we’re gonna be husbands??!?’ and Gundham just laughs and relaxes while telling Soda that, yes, he did realize they were going to be husbands lol

Soda just rambles away on the phone about how excited he is to marry Gundham and how he promises to be a good husband and how much he loves him. The other guys roll their eyes and decide it’s probably time to call it a night lol.

When Soda gets home he immediately attaches himself to Gundham and tells him how much he missed him lol. Gundham just pets his hair and gets them both ready for bed as he asks if Soda enjoyed his bachelor party. He says his favorite part was when his fiancé kissed him good night, and Gundham just rolls his eyes and does it haha

The Wedding

Soda is super nervous the night before (not in a ‘I’m not ready for this’ way, he’s just excited and scared he’s gonna say/do something dumb or that something terrible is gonna happen and ruin the whole thing) and he ends up calling Gundham from his hotel room at like midnight and talking about all his worries (“What if I say ‘I don’t’ by accident and we have to do the whole wedding again?” “What if I have to pee in the middle of our vows?” “What if we get to the ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ part and like, Nekomaru suddenly decides he’s in love with you? There’s no way I could take him in a fight!”). Gundham smiles as he reassures Soda that whatever happens, they’ll get through it, and that he doesn’t really care what happens, as long as he gets to call Soda his husband by the end of the day.

They fall asleep telling each other how excited they are.

In the morning their respective best men wake them and help them get ready. Gundham styles his hair up and Soda puts his in a low ponytail, and they both put on their fancy new custom suits (They both got ties to match each other’s suits too haha). They’re both a little nervous but Hajime and Sonia are ready with all kinds of compliments and reassurances, and they get both grooms out their doors and on the road right on time.

Gundham gets to the venue first, and he’s a little taken aback by how good it looks. Sonia gushes about all the little details while Gundham just half listens and thanks her. He’s looking at the flower arrangements sitting in classy black vases, the chairs covered in white cloth held in place with black ribbon, and noticing all kinds of subtly gothic touches Sonia added to the décor. Soda may have been worried about making the wedding tacky with his suit, but Gundham had been worried about making it tacky with shitty gothic decorations. He’s amazed with how well Sonia managed to pull it off. He grabs both her hands and sincerely tells her that he loves her and that she is, and always will be, his dearest friend. They both get a little teary and hug it out haha.

Then Hajime ruins it by kicking in the front door and saying something like ‘Gundham you look hot as fuck, but get out of my sight right now so I can bring your stupid ass fiancé in. Also, hey Sonia, great job decorating.’ Lol

Sonia and Gundham head off into a little room to wait for the ceremony to start, and Hajime heads back out to get Soda. When Soda gets inside he’s just as impressed by the décor as Gundham was. He thinks it’s all very Gundham and he loves it. Hajime tells him he tried to get Sonia to throw in some hot pink roses for Soda and Soda is just like ‘thank god Sonia didn’t listen to you.’ Lol

Soda just heads right into the main hall, just taking in all the amazing décor until his eyes land on the wedding arch. He stares at it and it just really hit him that this is happening. He’s about to marry the love of his life. He’s about to be able to call Gundham his husband. He’s about to be Gundham’s husband. He starts tearing up and Hajime pats him on the back, smiling ‘Come on, ya big sap, lets get you married’

Hajime gets Soda up to the front to take his place under the arch and Sonia comes out to see how things are going. Everything is pretty much ready and the officiant is ready to go, so Sonia heads back to Gundham’s room and the officiant signals everyone to take their seats so they can get things started. Soda’s regained his composure in the tie it took everyone to settle down, and Hajime gives him one last pat on the back before he takes his place to the side and the music starts.

Soda looks up as the door opens and he sears the image into his mind immediately.

Gundham looks amazing, he always does, but there’s just something extra to it in that moment. He’s glowing, Soda decides, and as their eyes lock he feels himself tearing up again. It only gets worse as Gundham gets closer, it’s not long before he’s full on crying. He’s jut so overwhelmed with love and happiness, and he almost wants to sip all the vows and wedding rites and just be married already.

Gundham’s not doing much better. He’s vaguely aware of their friends and family waving to him and complimenting him or congratulating him as he passes, but he’s way too focused on Soda to really care. He looks so handsome in his deep red suit with his hair tied back, and he’s frozen, clutching his hands in front of him nervously the way he had been when Gundham entered. Gundham want’s to run to him, sweep him off his feet and just declare them married himself, but he manages to hold himself back. He doesn’t hold back his tears nearly as well though, and a few roll down his cheeks before he makes it to the altar.

When Gundham gets to Soda he immediately pulls him into a tight hug, Soda wrapping his arms around him just as quickly, and then they’re both laughing through their tears. Gundham gently strokes Soda’s hair, careful not to mess it up, and kisses his forehead. Sonia scoffs to let Gundham know he’s on thin ice for that, she’s very into wedding traditions, but lets it slide since it technically isn’t a real kiss lol.

They eventually pull themselves away from each other a bit and try to wipe away each other’s tears at the same time. It’s a little awkward but they’re happy and don’t care, they just keep staring at each other as they finally step back, still holding hands, and signal to the officiant that they’re ready to start.

Soda says his vows first, it’s on purpose, he wanted to go first cus he knew he would be too busy crying after Gundham’s vows haha. He’s like shaking really hard when he starts, cus he hates public speaking and he’s embarrassed to be so sappy in front of all their friends, but as he talks he watches Gundham light up and it just gets easier and easier, until he’s only shaking from the effort it’s taking not to kiss his groom.

Everyone is expecting Gundham’s vows to be long winded and extra extra, but to their surprise they’re pretty straight forward. Gundham explains, as part of his vows, that he doesn’t need extravagant metaphors to express his love and he wants to speak plainly and clearly, in hopes of expressing how clear his feelings for Soda are (he said he doesn’t need metaphors, nut technically the whole thing is a metaphor lol). Soda is in fact crying well before he finishes, and the only things that stop them from kissing once Gundham stops talking are a stern cough from Sonia and a disapproving tut from Hajime lol

The officiant does their thing, Soda and Gundham requested a shortened version of the usual spiel cus they didn’t want to have to stand through a stupidly long ceremony, but even that feels way too long to them haha. When they get to the ‘speak now or forever hold you peace’ part, Gundham raises a non-existent brow at Soda before gazing pointedly at Nekomaru for a second. Soda snorts and laughs and nobody else gets it, but no one speaks up either haha

Gundham is the first to say ‘I do’, then Soda nearly cuts the officiant off with his own ‘I do’ before they can even finish the question haha. The officiant basically steps out of the way while saying ;you may now kiss cus they can tell these two have no patience lol.

They both lean in before the officiant even finishes speaking. Their lips meet and Soda wraps his arms around Gundham’s neck while Gundham pulls him in by his waist. Their friends are cheering and clapping and both of them are crying again.

They both smile and laugh as they part and make their way back down the aisle, thanking all their friends and family, before heading outside to get some photos taken.

Photos take literal hours (wedding party, friends, family, just them, each of them separate, each of them separate with friends, separate with family, now each individual family member with both of them and each of them separately, etc, etc), and they’re both pretty tired by the end of it. They end up heading back to Gundham’s little waiting room to take a nap together.

Sonia sends Mahiru in to get a picture of them cuddled together on the little couch. Both of them have their suit jackets off, their ties loose, and a couple shirt buttons undone. Soda is lying between Gundham’s legs, head resting sideways on his chest and drooling a little. Gundham as his arms wrapped around Soda’s back and his cheek is pressed against his hair. One of Gundham’s legs is dangling off the front of the too narrow couch, along with one of Soda’s arms.

Despite how sloppy they both look, it’s one of their favorite pictures from their wedding day.

The Reception

When Soda and Gundham wake up from their nap like an hour later, they spend like a solid 20 minutes just tenderly making out being all ‘hey you’re my husband now and I’m gonna keep saying the word husband until we’re both sick of it’ haha (neither of them get sick of it). Eventually Sonia and Hajime come get them, Hajime makes a comment like ‘haha save something for your wedding night guys’ and Sonia is just bluntly like ‘yeah, you two will have plenty of time to fuck later’ lol

They all grab something to eat before the reception because Soda and Gundham have barely eaten anything all day.

Their first dance is literally just them holding each other and kissing and swaying to the music, and Soda is so glad Gundham didn’t want to take dance lessons cus he doesn’t want to do anything but hold and kiss his husband in that moment. After the first dance the champagne starts flowing freely and formal atmosphere dissolves pretty quickly lol

Gundham and Soda have both ditched their jackets and are alternating between chatting and laughing with their friends and rocking out on the dance floor (they’re terrible dancers but it’s their wedding and no one is allowed to judge them lol). They’re both kind of acting like they’re drunk but they haven’t actually had that much to drink, they’re just stupid happy. They keep sneaking off to make out, only for Hajime or Sonia to drag them back lol

By the mid night Gundham has lost his tie (They threw it on the ground during one of their make outs and both of them forgot lol) and Soda has some fresh hickies on his neck, and Sonia and Hajime decide they’ve fulfilled their socialization quota and finally release them lol. They thought about getting a hotel room, but they both agreed they would rather just spend their first night as a married couple in their own bed.

The Wedding Night 👀

(suggestive but not explicit)

They start making out the second they get in the limo (courtesy of the Kuzuryu family) to take them home. They can’t keep their hands off each other, but they manage to keep their clothes on for now haha.

Once they make it home they’re stumbling over each other to get to the door, but then Soda freezes when they get it unlocked and Gundham is just like ??? Soda looks at him wide eyed and is just like ‘I want to do the thing’ and before Gundham can figure out what he means, Soda literally sweeps him off his feet and carries him bridal style into their home. Gundham just laughs and lets it happen.

Soda throws Gundham onto the bed and jumps on top of him, resuming their earlier make outs for  bit before Gundham pushes him back. Its Soda’s turn to be like ??? but Gundham just says he has a surprise for him and heads off to the bathroom.

Soda is 100% expecting lingerie, but when Gundham steps out in a lacy white baby doll with matching white panties and stockings he nearly dies from joy.

Gundham says he noticed the way Soda had reacted to the idea of him in a wedding dress during their suit fitting and went out to buy this outfit pretty much right after. Maybe it wasn’t quite a wedding dress, but it definitely had a bridal feeling to it.

Once some of Soda’s blood makes it back up to his brain, he smirks and points out that Gundham doesn’t really qualify for the whole wearing white on your wedding day thing’ and Gundham’s like ‘hmm, really? Better make sure, just in case’

It’s all really tender, filled with reverent kisses and I love you’s and a couple of happy tears, and by the end of it both of them are completely naked and cuddled up, smiling as they look at the new matching gold rings adorning their fingers.

They both fall asleep thinking about how excited they are to spend the rest of their lives together.

[bitchiha]

✎ Hinata With a s/o Who’s Personality is the Opposite of Hers

A/N: this was a request from  a very sweet anon and I worked on it for such along time, but Tumblr did not save the post so I had to retype it.. but its okay, I am fine and here is the second attempt: 

Request: Hi! I hope you're doing well. I was wondering if you could make some relationship hcs for hinata with a s/o who's the opposite of her? My baby deserves everything and I don't see much of her and am sad bc I love her 😢 Thank you you talented person who warms my heart💿💗💿

Warning I did not proofread this <3 I am too ducking lazy bye

Gosh okay Hinata needs a s/o that’s loud and slightly obnoxious lol, like she needs that type of person to push her out of her shell. She may be shy at your advances at first, but let’s be real she actually really loves them.

99.9% of the relationship is Hinata stuttering your name. “Y-y/n!!”

She likes when you make a big stink of any small gesture she does for you. It makes her feel super confident and even if she’s walking away blushing just know that she’s going to be thinking of that moment for a good month afterwards. Like she brings you food one day after you’re training with Naruto and you’re so happy that you mow it down in like 2 seconds. Then you smother her in hugs, kisses and praise and she just turns beet red. “Y-y/n!”

Your compliments help push her out of her shell even more and she cherishes every single one. Even if your compliments are kinda shitty, it’s the thought that counts. “Wow Hinata, youre eyes look like marbles, they’re so cute.” And Hinatas blushing so fucking hard and Shino and Kiba just scratch their head like?? “Uh why did you blush at that weak ass compliment?”

You’re basically her cheerleader. Make sure to give her pep talks. Like if she’s feeling down about herself for whatever reason, you always go up to her and give her the best inspirational talk you can, throwing in all the cheesy shit you know and she’s always grateful. You’re probably half screaming the pep talk because you’re just so riled up to make your girlfriend feel energized and the effort alone is comforting. “Don’t worry about what anyone else says, I believe in you Hinata! I know you can do this.”

Whenever you two are on missions together she always makes the effort to try and show her powers off to you. She sees how protective you are of her in the village and she wants to show you that she can take care of you too. That just gives her the extra drive she needs to kick the enemies ass <3 She loves when you stare at her wide eyed and shocked after she whoops their ass. Like leaving you speechless is such an accomplishment because you hardly ever shut up. “Holy shit, Hinata!!! You’re the coolest girlfriend ever, you totally kicked their asses!”

Brag about her!!! Please just flex about your girlfriend. She does the same for you but she gets super shy afterwards. Like when she talks to Shino, Kiba and Kurenai about you she always does the little finger thing with her hands and turns beet red. Kiba loves to tease her about it when you all hang out, “Yeah, Hinata always talks about you with us. She’s always rambling about how—“ then Hinata proceeds to clamp a hand over his mouth with her eyes bulging out of her head. “K-Kiba!!”

You’re a tease so you like to get her flustered. So sometimes you join in on Kibas teasing, afterall it’s just fun and games. It’s not like Kiba wants to hurt your feelings. However, if it’s anyone else in the village they will not get the same treatment. Oh someone wants to shove Hinata as they walk past her in the village? Want to say she’s not strong? You will openly challenge them to a battle. “Hey you jerk! You wanna disrespect my girlfriend again? I’ll kick your ass right now!” And she’ll hold you back, “Y/n! It’s okay! Really you don’t need to do this.”

Honestly as you two get closer in the relationship, she starts to develop some of your mannerisms and little by little she bursts into “y/n fits.” That’s what kiba calls them. It’s basically where she does something bold and totally un-Hinata like. Like someone’s talking crap about you in the village and she goes from little shy girl to “who do you think you are talking about y/n like that?!” Kiba tells you about the fits later and you just sit back with a grin, “that’s my girl.”

She also doesn’t mind PDA — to an extent. You’re an affectionate person so you can’t help the PDA sometimes, but you know when you’re overstepping. There’s 3 levels of Shy Hinata. First level is with light PDA, like gentle little touches that you don’t even notice you’re giving her. Light brushes over her arm as you walk, or your fingers thrumming against her thigh as you two sit down at a restaurant. There’s a little brush of pink across her cheeks and you normally don’t notice it unless someone *cough cough* ( Kiba ) points it out.

The second level is with intentional touches, like hand holding, wrapping an arm around her etc. Her face turns bright red and you have to ask if it’s okay, she nods eagerly, she actually likes it a lot. It just takes her a while to adjust to it.

The third level is emergency level. Like this is just borderline she is going to evaporate. It varies from touches you didn’t mean to be so intimate, to jokingly slapping her ass when you pick her up from training. She just immediately turns red and starts stuttering and you can almost see her head overheating.

It’s kind of funny lol and you have to apologize afterwards because she’s literally over heating for five minutes afterwards. As the relationship goes on she will end up getting you back at least once, even if she’s blushing the whole time. It’s worth it though because you’re blushing just as hard at her sudden boldness.

Also loves nicknames, even the tacky ones you give her. Call her a whole list of nicknames and she adores every single one of them. For real, like you can call her: princess, peaches, love, cutie pie, sweetie, etc and they will all make her smile.

Saves like every card you give her. They’re the most extravagant yet horrendous things that ever came into creation, but she loves them all and ignores Neji’s blatant dislike for them. Like sure, they’re decked out in glitter and they look like a five year old made them, but you tried your best and the thought that you spent your time on her in such a sentimental way always makes her gush. Keeps them all in a shoe box under her bed with all the other trinkets she collects from dates and hang outs with you. She definitely wears the gifts you give her too, even if they are a little too crazy for her, she likes how humbled you get when you see her wearing them.

Also she’s 100% a pillow princess and you will not and cannot change my mind <3

[smp-live]

Man in the (Shattered) Mirror Ch. 4

AO3   First   Prev   Next

No TWs for this chapter!

Techno wasn’t too confident in this whole “resurrection” idea.

The writings they were basing themselves on were just so ancient, and vague, that it was hard to have faith in them to be accurate. And Techno, ever the pragmatic, wasn’t too fond of the idea of getting his hopes up over nothing. He’d been burned before, too many times to count.

But Phil had latched onto the idea like a lifeline, and Techno could see how it seemed to reinvigorate him. Wilbur’s death had crushed him, seemingly aged him 50 years, and he gained them all back in an instant at the prospect of being able to see his son again. Techno didn’t have the heart to crush his hopes.

Neither of them were any good at emotions, anyways, Techno being unwilling to express them and Phil dancing around the topic like he did Techno’s sword when they sparred. So he stayed silent, brought Phil meals as he sat engrossed in whatever scripture he was reading, and listened to him ramble on about ideas and theories. Sent him off with a wave and a small smile earlier this morning, despite his own doubts.

They should be going through with it right about now, he mused, glancing away from the historical text he was reading - based on facts and dates, thank you very much - and to the clock. Just past four p.m.

He should go and grab lunch; he hadn’t eaten yet today. The worn hardwood stairs creaked softly as he padded downstairs with the grace of a man who knew exactly where his body started and ended. No use sitting around wondering what was happening in a country miles away. It’s not like he would find out until Phil came back.

So, the last person he was expecting to see seated at his kitchen table was Wilbur.

He stared at Techno like a deer caught in the headlights, doe-brown eyes wide and startled. Skin peachy and flushed, dressed in that tacky 18th-century revolutionary outfit he’d seen hanging on the wall of Tommy’s room in Pogtopia, except this one wasn’t torn and bloody. No, it was crisply ironed, brass buttons gleaming in the sunlight that streamed through the blinds.

“Technoblade?” he asked, shocked, sitting ramrod straight in his chair.

“Wilbur?” Well, he supposed this answered his question about whether the resurrection had worked. Although it didn’t explain the uniform. Or why Wilbur was in the Arctic and not with the rest, in L’Manburg.

“What the fuck are you doing here? No wait,” Wilbur said, scrambling up from his chair and to the window, “where’s here?” He frowned at his surroundings, then whirled on Techno. “This isn’t L’Manberg.”

“No, it-”

“Where’d you take me?” Wilbur accused, hand twitching to his belt for a sword as he stepped towards Techno. He barely faltered when it came up empty. Techno's lips twitched into a quick smile barely tinged with pride. He’d taught him well. “You working with Dream?”

“Nah.” He reconsidered. “Or, wait-”

That was apparently the wrong answer, because Wilbur’s face contorted in rage as he pressed up to Techno. They were the same height, he mused idly, meeting his godson’s smoldering eyes easily. Despite his height and his passion, he wasn’t worried. He could take Wilbur in a fight - he’d done it a hundred times before, after all.

“Where,” Wilbur snarled, seemingly without that same sentiment, “the fuck. Are. The others. I swear, if you’ve touched a single hair on their heads, Blade-”

“Calm down, Wilbur,” Techno said, raising his hands placatingly. Wilbur’s eyes flickered to them then back to his face, squinting. “I haven’t done anything. You’re just a bit confused.”

“I-“

Techno ignored his indignant interjection. “Let’s sit, alright?” he proposed, gesturing to the table. “We can talk. Like civil people.”

Wilbur glowered, but turned and stalked to take his seat. Techno followed, and they simply sat for a few moments, stewing in an awkward silence.

Wilbur looked better than he had, when he’d last seen him. Exhausted, yes, but a more recent, surface-level tiredness, not one that had sunk its way deep into his bones. His hands were calloused, but from guitar playing and gardening rather than weapons.

“Tea?” Techno offered.

“No,” Wilbur snapped. Welp, that was his only conversation starter. What were you supposed to say when your newly-resurrected godson appeared in your kitchen? Scratch that - when he appeared to be from over a year in the past, before he had snapped and destroyed everything he’d worked for?

Luckily for the both of them, Wilbur sighed and sank his head into his hands, rubbing at his temples.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to snap - I... I’ve just been stressed, lately. With the revolution, and all.”

Techno raised an eyebrow at that. “What revolution?” Wilbur looked at him like he was dumb.

“L’Manberg? Didn’t Phil tell you? Or Dream?” he added with a sneer, and that confirmed all of Techno’s suspicions. Gods, they had really somehow managed to bring back Wilbur from over a year ago. How did they even manage that?

“First off,” Techno started, “I’m not working with Dream. I just owe him a favour.” Wilbur opened his mouth to argue but quieted down at Techno’s raised hand in warning.

“Second...” Where did he even start with this? How exactly could he explain... everything that had happened concisely?

Before he could figure out his words, the door slammed open with a gust of wind and a swirl of snow. And in walked Phil, with a hand on his hat and a a bundle clutched in his other arm. Except - that wasn’t a bundle. It was a child, a sleeping child with an all-too familiar shock of brown hair resting on Phil’s shoulder.

Techno’s stomach clenched as he turned around from shutting the door and froze, eyes drifting from Techno himself to his son across from him.

“Phil?” Wilbur - the Wilbur at the table - squeaked, eyes wide in shock. “What are you doing here? Did you- You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Phil just stared at him for a few seconds before looking away to hang his hat. “Hey, Wil.”

“Phil?” Techno interjected, getting up. “What’s happening? Is that... Wilbur?”

“Wait- what the fuck?”

“Yeah,” Phil said, wings slumping. “Look- I’ll explain in a minute. Can you get Wil - this Wil - to bed?” he asked, turning to Techno while running a hand gently through the kid’s hair.

Techno rolled his eyes, (soft old man,) but made to take Wilbur from his father’s arms. The kid shifted as he was transferred from one grip to another, and Techno tried to shush him as he walked up the stairs, as softly as he could. He stayed quiet until he was laid in bed.

“Tec’no?” he mumbled, lifting his head and blinking at him blearily.

“Yeah, kiddo, it’s me. Now go back to sleep or your father’ll have my neck,” Techno said quietly back, tucking a blanket tightly around him - Wilbur didn’t sleep well otherwise. The kid didn’t respond, sinking back into slumber, and that was fine by him.

Now, time for answers.

As Techno padded back down the stairs, voices drifted up.

“What the fuck do you mean, it’s January?” Wilbur asked.

“I mean,” Phil answered calmly and there was a clattering of mugs, “technically you’re in the future. Not for us, but for you.”

“About a year and a half,” Techno added as he walked into the room. Both father and son turned to look at him, exhaustion on Phil’s face and distress on Wilbur’s.

“A year and a half?” he asked, so broken and scared. Then, strengthening himself up from the moment of vulnerability, “did we win? The war, I mean.”

“Yes,” Phil said, sitting down and pushing a mug of steaming tea in front of Wilbur and one for Techno, “you did.” Wilbur’s ecstatic grin was enough to make Techno take a sip of his tea to hide his own smile. His godson’s joy had always been contagious.

“We won? We won! That’s bloody fantastic!” He nearly leapt out of his chair in excitement. “Tell me- how was it? How long did it take? Can we go see - actually, scratch that - why are we not in L’Manberg now?”

“Wil, mate,” Phil started, then sighed, wings slumping down, “a- a lot happened between then and now, and...” He trailed off, unwilling to voice it. So Techno decided to make his life a little bit easier.

“You died,” he said simply.

“I- what?”

“You died.”

“All three times?”

“Mm-hm.” Techno nodded, taking another sip from his mug. Wilbur just gaped, speechless for once in his life at the news.

“We tried to resurrect you,” Phil said, finding his voice again. “It... kinda worked? I mean,” he gestured at the Wilbur across the table, “case in point. But... Ghostbur’s still around. And there’s not just you - the Wilbur upstairs came back, too, and,” his voice cracked as he locked eyes with Techno, “Wil right before he died.”

“Oh,” Techno said. That... wasn’t good. Not for the server, finally at peace with L’Manburg gone, and not for Phil.

Wilbur before he died had been a destructive force of chaos, uncaring of who or what he hurt as he spiraled. Sure, it had helped Techno, as their goals at the time had lined up, but now? He just wanted to be at peace in his home in the arctic. Farm a little, maybe read some books.

If he was back, and in that same state of mind, well... Techno shuddered to think of what he might do to that peace.

Wilbur - Wilbur across the table - frowned, eyes flitting from one to the other. “Care to explain?”

“I’d rather not,” Phil said, “Not right now. We have no reason to believe it’s only you three that came back, and I- I don’t want to have to explain everything more than once.”

Wilbur considered that for a few seconds, head tilted like he always did when he was deep in thought. “Fair enough.”

“Besides,” Phil continued, “I’d rather someone else explain. I don’t know the whole story. You were a bit sporadic in your letters, mate.”

Wilbur winced apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Eh,” Phil waved a hand around as if to brush it away, “it’s fine. Anyways, we agreed to meet at Eret’s castle tomorrow to discuss.”

“Wait - castle? Why does Eret have a castle?” Wilbur asked. “Isn’t he a part of L’Manberg?” Oh, this wasn’t good.

“Wil,” Phil started, sympathetic, then seemed to think better of it. “nevermind. For tomorrow.”

“For tomorrow,” Wilbur echoed. “Right.”

He looked lost, hands cupped around his steaming mug of tea that clouded up the brass buttons adorning his uniform, in much the same way his eyes clouded as they stared blankly at the cabinets. Lost as in his whole world had been uprooted in just a few instants.

Which was fair; this was a lot to take in, even for Techno, and he wasn’t the one who found himself in the future where he was supposedly dead.

“Alright,” he said, getting up with a clap of his hands. That was enough emotional conversation for today. “Wilbur, I have a book on historical politics you might be interested in? To distract yourself for now?”

That seemed to jolt his godson out of his state, the life returning to his eyes. “Y-yes, of course,” he stammered out, following Techno to his feet. “You know me so well, Blade.”

Techno rolled his eyes as he clapped Phil on the shoulder. “You’re welcome to come join us,” he told him. Phil just nodded tightly with a wan smile, hands gripping his mug. He wouldn’t be, then.

“Suit yourself,” he said, then led Wilbur upstairs to his room.

-

If someone were to ask Fundy how he was feeling on a scale of 1-10, he’d answer a solid two. Luckily for his pride, though, nobody cared about him enough to ask.

The root of the problem was, of course, Wilbur - when was it not? His father had been the cause of pretty much every bad thing in his life ever since he’d decided to start that Prime-forsaken country. Ever since he’d gone and offed himself on a diamond sword.

He kind of mostly wanted to avoid thinking about Wilbur entirely, if he was completely honest. But both Wilbur’s ghost and Phil wanted him to be resurrected, and so he found himself going along with it. He figured he could make sure his quote-unquote father came back, didn’t immediately ruin everything, and then fuck off and never think about him again.

Except, of course that’s not what happened.

No, of course Wilbur had to fuck up something as simple as coming back to life. He just had to somehow split into different versions of himself. Because of course.

And now, there was an all-too-familiar-looking shape huddled at the end of his docks, the one place he felt at home.

He was wearing a clean white tee with a familiar-looking black cardigan thrown overtop. His feet dangled just above the water, boots shucked onto the planks next to him. Fingers tapped out a rhythm at his side as he stared out over the horizon.

Fundy recognized the melody, of course he did. An old sea shanty his father had twisted into a lullaby he’d sang every night until Fundy protested with a whined, “I’m too old, dad, stop.” He sometimes still found himself humming it, though most of the words had slipped his mind over time, replaced with more important things such as swordfighting stances, cyphers, and how to make sure a drunk man didn’t die choking on his own vomit.

Gravel crunched under Fundy’s boot as he took an involuntary step forward. The tapping stopped. Wilbur slowly turned around, both freezing as they locked eyes.

“Fundy?” his father choked out with glistening eyes. Fundy sighed.

“Hi, Wil.”

“You’re- you’re so big!” Wilbur got to his feet, a beaming smile on his face, and stumbled towards Fundy. He wanted nothing more than to run, to scream get the fuck away from me, to collapse and cry into his father’s arms. Instead, he stayed stock still.

Wilbur took his face in his hands, cradling it gently as he always did. His hand was soft and warm, gentle calluses from hours spent holding a pen or a guitar instead of a sword. Fundy had to swallow down a lump in his throat; it had been easier to ignore how much he missed this when he wasn’t staring it in the face.

But he couldn’t have this, this softness with his once-family. He’d disowned Wilbur, and his ex-father had disowned him back. Had looked his son-in-no-more-than-blood in the eyes and said, with complete honesty, “I despise you.”

That wasn’t this Wilbur, though, so maybe he could allow himself to pretend, for a bit. This Wilbur looked younger. Face rounder, limbs ganglier, eyebags less deep. Stress lines and signs of early greying gone. Little details Fundy wouldn’t even have noticed had he not just seen an older version of him.

He pulled away suddenly, eyes burning with tears, and Wilbur let him go, a concerned expression on his face. Always so fucking concerned. Until it didn’t benefit him anymore.

“Fundy? What- what’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Fuck off,” he muttered, rubbing furiously at his eyes with his sleeve. “’m fine.”

“You’re crying-”

“I said I’m fine.” Why wouldn’t he drop it?

“Son-”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Fundy snapped, and Wilbur took a shocked step back. “You lost the right to call me that a long time ago.”

“Fundy...” Wilbur stared at him, studying, clearly trying to piece together what he could’ve done from the look on his fox-face. Joke’s on him, he’d have to actually know Fundy in order to read him, and nobody bothered to care enough to get to that point. Wilbur of all people definitely didn’t. “What happened?”

"You died,” Fundy said bluntly. He sure as fuck wouldn’t try and soften the blow for his father. “We tried to resurrect you, and you fucked it up. Now, you’re here.” He waved his arm around them. “Welcome back, I guess.”

Wilbur gaped at him. “I- I died?” he asked, breathless.

Fundy nodded sharply. “Yup. Few months ago. Now, if you don’t mind me, I’ll be off.”

“Fundy, wait-” Frantic footsteps sounded on the dock behind him.

“Fuck off." Fundy kept stalking away.

“No, Fundy, please-”

“What?” He whirled around, snarling. “What do you want, old man?”

“Old man?” Wilbur paused, amused smile on his face. “Fundy, I’m barely nineteen.”

Fundy’s blood froze, (his father was the same age as him,) but he whirled back around and kept walking. “Not to me, you aren’t.”

“I don’t have anywhere to stay,” Wilbur all-but-whispered. Fundy didn’t even turn around, this time.

“Sucks to be you. Now stay the fuck away from me.”

[tearlessrain]

30 questions tag game

Tagged by: @mercurypilgrim (thanks!)

Rules: Answer 30 questions and tag 5 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better.

Name/nickname: I’ve been going by tearless/tearlessrain for so long that a friend once called me that in person and I did not notice that it wasn’t my name until they said something. but I also have a lot of other names, only two of which have legal relevance.

Gender: male

Star sign: virgo, but I’ve been told by the local astrology gays that I’m also an aquarius moon and that it “explains a lot”

Height: 5′2

Birthday: a secret. I do not like being the center of attention.

Time: it’s like 3:40am. I will experience deep regret tomorrow, and I will learn nothing from this.

Favorite bands: queen feels like a cop out but like I’m never really not in the mood to listen to queen. linkin park, unironically. and all the different permutations of the crosby/stills/nash/young/simon/garfunkle cloud.

A few I am currently listening to, though: I can’t really call out specific bands/artists because I’m mostly listening to my oc playlists lately (I literally can’t stay in a bad mood listening to riska’s playlist and that’s just the energy I need in my life right now).

Favorite solo artists: (all together now) david bowie. also hozier and joni mitchell.

Song stuck in my head: O Come All Ye Faithful, in latin, for some fucking reason. it’s been there for days. send help.

Last movie: Kung Fu Panda, discord server was having a movie night.

Last show: WandaVision but I’m behind on it (loved the first two episodes but now I can feel the Marvel-ness looming again and I dread it)

When did I create this blog: god I don’t even remember, I’ve been here since the first age and never changed accounts/urls so like. around ten years now I think.

What do I post: whatever the hell passes through my brain from moment to moment, I can’t believe anyone follows me. lately a lot of rambling about my swtor ocs, sometimes it’s tolkien/silmarillion content, sometimes I liveblog terrible movies on purpose, sometimes it’s isaac asimov hours, sometimes just shitposting or unsolicited opinions about completely random things I’m not qualified to talk about. the only thing I can be relied on to provide is reblogs of ocean and horse photos, but not on any kind of consistent schedule.

Last thing googled: celtic invasion of portugal. I got slightly sidetracked from something else I was doing.

Other blogs: I’ve got art over at @tearlessrainart, horny art over at @a-world-of-osha-violations, and a little pile of extremely specific sideblogs I rarely use.

Do I get asks: not often, but those I do get are appreciated. except you, ray bans bot. I don’t appreciate you.

Why I chose my url: I originally used it as a deviantart handle (still there) because it wasn’t taken and I liked the overall way it sounded, and kept it because it’s rarely taken anywhere. and now it’s been ten years so like it’s stuck at this point.

Following: 305

Followers: 1392 which is far more than I deserve given my wildly inaccessible blogging style

Average hours of sleep: 7-8 hours usually but my actual sleep schedule skews late. I’ve never been one of those people who can skate by on 5 hours and be functional, if I get less than 6 hours I am absolutely useless and was that way even in high school/college when everyone else was pulling all nighters and shit.

Lucky number: I honestly have never understood lucky numbers, and how much I like any given number is solely dependent on how appealing its colors are according to my synesthesia. if anyone’s wondering, 420 is a hideously tacky blue/orange clusterfuck, but 69 is pleasantly greyscale.

Instruments: I play the flute, in that I own a flute that I was pretty good at playing in high school and can, if I choose, still play notes on it. I also own a melodica but I cannot play it, which to be clear does not stop me from playing it.

What am I wearing: pajama pants and a sith cloak. which sounds like a joke but I do actually own a set of sith robes and the cloak happens to be warm and very comfortable so I just kinda. wear it around the house sometimes in the winter.

Dream job: ornamental lighthouse hermit who may or may not be a wizard.

more realistically though I’m hoping to go into sfx makeup and cosmetology (I was like a week away from getting my license when the apocalypse hit)

Dream trip: I’d love to visit australia and new zealand, would also very much like to go back to scotland and possibly just not leave scotland.

Favorite food: sushi, specifically good salmon nigiri. god it’s so good. smeagol was right.

Nationality: regrettably, american.

Favorite song: god I have no idea. uh. I really like the boy in the bubble by paul simon. something about the visuals in that song speak to me.

Last book read: rereading The Robots of Dawn by Isaac Asimov, which is a terrible book that I nonetheless subject myself to periodically because I like all the books around it a lot. I need to start on Robots and Empire but shit’s been going down recently so I haven’t been reading much.

Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in:  

okay LIVE IN is a very different question from “universes I think are neat” because like. I love the whole thing firefly has going on but I wouldn’t survive it for more than five minutes. so with that in mind:

1. middle earth but like, the shire during the third age specifically.

2. I think I would enjoy being a legend of zelda npc. I could just be a weird little potion seller who lives in a tree or something. or maybe an inexplicably sexy fish man. or better yet, the inexplicably sexy fish man’s husband, who sells potions. yeah I’ve got my fictional life here completely figured out now, this is good. I would also own an extremely chonky horse.

3. one of the ones I made up, specifically the one that involves a lot of gryphons and interdimensional bullshit. more specifically the origin universe of said gryphons, which exists at the heart of an extremely complicated multiverse that includes both earth and at least one fantasy world but is part of neither. anyway it’s a nice place.

Tagging: @raemanzu @sith-nb @vampiraptor @nyriad @crypticspren

(only if you want to of course)

[flipflap-flipflap]

Long post where I ramble about my transition.  Not that I can imagine anyone doing so, but please do not reblog.

Idr if I already made a post about this but I restarted my transition after something like 7 or 8 years hiatus.  Take my advice, don’t try to transition during college.  It might seem like the ideal time, out of your parents’ eyes and in a broadly accepting environment with a lot of anonymity, but...don’t.  Unless you’re a genius and breezing through college like it’s nothing, it’s going to be way too much anxiety piled on top of you.  I burned out hard.  So hard that I’m only just now restarting my transition, almost a decade later, and under a new name to entirely divorce myself from that first experience.

That’s not to say I haven’t been dysphoric as all hell this whole time.  Getting deadnamed/misgendered by friends, family and coworkers and having no excuse to correct it has probably been the hardest part.  Over the past year or two I’ve strayed into nonbinary territory, and folks calling me by my username (including irl friends online) and using they/them pronouns has really helped alleviate my dysphoria.  And I think that’s what gave me the motivation boost to jump back into my bona fide mtf transition.

I only just got on hrt back in early March, so not a whole lot has changed yet.  The only big surprise so far has been that my belly fat evaporated before I even realized it.  I’ve thankfully got a pretty naturally feminine body, but I’ve always had a noticeable belly bulge for someone as otherwise skinny as me, but now it’s almost completely flat.  I have started working out, but not intensely enough or for long enough to be seeing such drastic results so soon.  So I assume I have the hormones to thank for that.

I should probably be documenting my boob growth, but I uh, don’t really care?  I mean, I want boobs, hell yeah, but they’ll get here when they get here.  Not like I could get implants if I wanted them till like, 18 months or something like that anyway.  For now, after a month and a half, I’m just happy that my boobs are grown enough that bras stay in place.

My big project right now is voice.  I’m not really the type to practice with people (not just with this, I couldn’t even do group studying back in school).  I just hate people seeing that I’m a work in progress, y’know?  So what I’ve been doing in the meantime is recording myself while I read a book aloud.  The book I more or less randomly chose is one that I bought on a whim and then never read: The Girl from Shadow Springs, by Ellie Cypher.  It’s an okay book, but there's two things that I really like about my choice here: a female protagonist who is also our narrator, and a fair amount of dialogue that almost always is one female and one male.  Ngl, most of my fun comes from dropping in and out of female voice to do the male dialogue lines.  I love hearing it on the playback.  The vocal acrobatics are NOT easy, and probably not helpful, but they are fun.

I’m saving all my recordings because I have no reason not to.  I’ll probably never revisit them (just like I doubt I’d look at boob growth references), but recordings actually have some potential to be handy down the road.

The bane of my life though, as always, is none other than my neck.  I’ve always had trouble shaving it, and it hasn’t gotten any better.  It’s the one and only part of my body I struggle to shave.  Face?  Fine.  Armpits?  Fine.  Crotch?  Fine.  Neck?  A fucking Christmas tree.  It irritates after every shave, especially if I try shaving more than once a week.  Daily?  It looks like I took sandpaper to it.  I moisturize, exfoliate, use a sensitive skin shaving cream, a nice aftershave balm, and fresh razors, and still I light up.  The merest touch of the razor to the skin, even before swiping, burns like hell.  And I can’t even get a close shave out of it! 

I’m going to be starting laser hair removal because duh, but I can’t really start that until after I move, which will be in late May at the earliest and August/September at the latest.  Until then, makeup is my one and only ally in this cruel world.  I should see a dermatologist like a responsible adult, but whoever accuses me of being that is a fool.

I don’t think I’ll bother publicly transitioning at work, for a few reasons.  First, I plan on leaving as soon as I find a job out of state, so why bother.  Second, I have a coworker who is the most intoxicatingly supportive person I have ever met.  I cannot underscore how little I want to hear him saying he’s cheering me on while doing a stupid little clap or something tacky like that.  I think I’d resort to violence.  Third, we’re all remote anyway so why bother with the effort?  I go into the office once a week where I see a whopping two people.  And fourth, I'm not satisfied with how my voice passes, and like I said, I don’t like people seeing a work in progress.  Idk, maybe once I’m a bit more confident in my voice (namely, consistency) and once I figure out how to conceal my big crybaby neck I’ll just casually start going in as a woman.  We’ll see.

Anyway that’s the sum of my life right now.  Uh, welcome to it?

[banashee]

 A conversation long overdue

 To her credit, Natasha is patient as she is listening to her best friend rambling over the phone. She doesn’t rush or interrupt and it may or may not be because he’s still hungover and therefore a lot more whiny than usual. She doesn't feel like dealing with that.

 It also might be because instead of cracking puns or starting out with one of his god awful phone greetings (“Barton Morgue,      you stab     '      em we     slab '      em    , got a new one?”) that make her roll her eyes hard enough to spin in circles, when Natasha answers her phone the first thing she can hear is Clint sighing dramatically and then exclaiming,

 “Please be nice. I’m dumb.”

 “I’m always nice. Besides, I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more specific than that."

 When Clint sighs pitifully and then takes a deep breath to start talking, Natasha already regrets asking.

 But she listens patiently and for long enough to start and finish painting her nails in the process.

 She listens to Clint ramble about stupid feelings, casual hookup's that haven't felt casual in forever.

 She listens to him ramble about a weekend in Vegas and a drunken night out that neither he or Tony actually remembers and so far, it sure sounds like something these two doofuses she calls her friends would do.

 That is until a moment after, and the sound of Clints head colliding with a wooden surface - over a decade of knowing him tells her that the real catcher is about to come - her mind jumps to several possible conclusions and they're all kinda cliché but. She's right.

 What the hell, Clint?

 After he's finished his long winded ramble, Natasha pours herself a glass of vodka, swallows it in one go and finally answers.

 "So, just so I get this straight. You two didn't manage to have an actual talk about your feelings in well over a year, and instead you got drunk and got married in a tacky Las Vegas wedding chapel with some dude in a Elvis costume officiating it, only to wake up the next day with no idea how that even happened?“

 Clint thumps his head onto a table again - he'll lose plenty of braincells on this trip, it seems.

 "Well, yeah." A beat of silence. "It wasn't even a      good     Elvis." he complains, as if that is the real tragedy here.

 Natasha laughs. Hard. And loud.

 Only very few instances of that happening have been witnessed by anyone currently alive - it's always humbling, because for one, it shows that the Black Widow is human after all, while on the other hand, it usually means that somebody has done something incredibly stupid. Which is probably the reason that it’s mostly Clint who causes her to laugh like that. It’s just another part of their experience as platonic life partners.

 “Okay, but have you talked       now    ?” Natasha asks, when she’s got a grip on herself again, still grinning and wiping amused tears from her eye and pouring another glass of vodka. She figures she might as well.

 “I mean, we were gonna. But alcohol is evil. We had dinner slash breakfast slash whatever, found the photos from last night that Tony has on his phone and had a good laugh. Then we ended up fucking again and well, he’s asleep at the moment.”

 Clint sounds like he’s actually thinking about how to go about this - as much as his love life resembles a dumpster fire sometimes, this is something different, drunken Vegas shenanigans aside -  it is clearly important to him.

 “Alright, then go to sleep and sober up. You two will have to have this conversation eventually.”

 “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Tasha.”

 They hang up on that - saying “goodbye” is just not their thing.

 Natasha sighs, and about 2000 miles away, Clint does the same, mussing up the back of his hair in the process. She’s right tho - she always is, so what else is new. He gets up from the couch, leaving his phone there and then he quietly walks over to the bedroom and crawls back under the blankets, careful not to wake Tony.

 He doesn’t wake up, but he turns briefly to cuddle up close to Clint once he’s back in bed, arms and legs wrapped around him like an octopus.

 It feels familiar and just right - Clint feels something ease in his chest as he hugs back while falling asleep.

 They will have this long overdue talk - eventually. For now though, the bed is warm and the company is good and neither of the two sees a need to move anytime soon.

 When they wake up in the morning, they do so with heads that are no longer clouded from a nasty hangover and to the sound of pouring rain outside.

 It’s comfortable and cozy, and they start the day with lazy kisses and wandering hands in bed, moving on to the shower later.

 By the time they are dressed and on the couch, cradling mugs of steaming hot coffee in their hands, the time feels right.

 Clint is still mulling over in his head how to start this, but Tony actually saves him the trouble.

 “So, what do you think? There is still time to annul the whole thing if you want, but, uh. We could, you know, just go for it and see where it gets us?”

 He sounds suspiciously casual when he talks about the annulation, but there is something soft and hopeful in his eyes when he offers the option of staying together.  

 Clint doesn’t even think when he answers, because his heart has already made this decision, long before they even ended up here in this hotel room.

 “Yeah, okay. let’s go for it. I, uh, I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” He reaches out with one hand, and Tony takes it. He smiles at him, happy and content and with a giant weight falling off of his chest.

 Their hands fit together perfectly in the way they’re intertwined, and so does the rest of them as they kiss. It’s far from the first time, but it still feels like an entirely new experience.

 *+~

 Prompt No. 45: Please be nice. I’m dumb.

[pynkhues]

I’m just here to say I love all of your fic and ask what might be your next update? 🙂

Thank you so much! I’m hoping to get at least one thing up by the end of this week? My office is shutting down tomorrow for the quarantine - so that day will be busy, but the rest of the week should be pretty quiet, hopefully giving me lots of time to write. 

My head’s been totally consumed with this s3 fic though right now where Beth and Rio do a job together and then bone in his new car, haha, so that’ll probably be the thing that goes up? (Although I’m aiming for the last part of the porn!AU soon too). 

Anyway, I know I posted a bit of this earlier in the week, but if you like, you can have the full first scene of the s3 fic!

I hope you like it!

Weird thingis, the place smells like her.

He’d thoughtit the first time he’d stepped through the door, the counterfeit note uncurlinglike a promise in his pocket; the ugly-ass white curtains that looked straightoutta his abuela’s house already drawn.

He can’teven really explain what the smell is, wouldn’t know how to describe itif somebody asked – something a little too sweet, but it ain’t like perfume,ain’t like fresh baked cookies or pie or nothin’ neither, and it ain’t quitelike a flower, not that he makes a habit of going around smelling the roses andwhatnot, but he’s got sisters, and Rhea used to love getting them back when sheused to love him.

Nah, itain’t anything so easy to pin down – not that anything with Elizabeth ever hasbeen.  

Back before- - well, just before, he used to think maybe it was some lotion orshampoo or something. Didn’t smell like a flower because it must have been someflower imitation, essence of whatever, something smelled once by somebody forreal and then broken down in a lab in an effort to recreate it. A bottled upmemory, some Frankenstein’d recreation of something that smelt good to somebodyonce.

Somethingnot cheap, but inexpensive, probably picked up at the drug store whileshe bought up toothpaste and diapers, toilet paper and aspirin, somethingslathered on her skin after her shower but before bed, something that’d she’dsoak in overnight, but still - -

Somethingjust on her skin.

Because thething is, now he knows that ain’t it. Knows it, because she tastes like it too.

Fuck, knowsexactly how deep inside her that taste goes.

Knows itstarts on the inside, whatever it is.

Remembers ittoo-sweet on his tongue for days after she kicked him out of her bed.

And shit, itain’t something he’s had any time recent, but still – the smell in the airdon’t just hit his nose right now, it coats his teeth.

The fact ofit all is enough to make him drum his fingers on the counter, right beside thecash registers, enough to make his jaw rock, impatient, as he watches Elizabethhelp a customer pick out a card, her movements stiff since the moment she sawhim walk in, and on anyone else that would feel like a win, but on her he knowsit ain’t one. Ain’t fear or discomfort but anger, simmering just beneath herskin.

Enough of itapparently to make her take her time, draw it out, leave him waiting longer,and he’s of half a mind to go over and get her fussin’ and flusterin’, when thecustomer finally decides on which bit of folded cardboard she wants to go with thebox of decorative plates in her hand and asks and you gift wrap, right?

And it’salmost impressive, how Elizabeth can cross the store swapping small talk withthis twenty-something (who’s all fuckin’ pep and Invisalign braces), can feel hiseyes on her, must know he’s practically draped across the counter, and not somuch as glance at him.

“Do youthink the gold wrapping paper is too much?” the girl trills. “I don’t want itto look like I’m trying too hard.”

“No suchthing when it comes to presentation,” Elizabeth replies, and he knows her wellenough to know her voice is a little tight, just because he knows what itsounds like when it ain’t, and he smiles at her, sharkish, as she rounds the counter,until all that’s left between them is the wooden frame of the thing.

She rings upthe sale while the girl natters about somethin’ or other, the ancient littlemachine beneath them all choking out a receipt as Elizabeth starts grabbingtogether wrapping paper and ribbons of gauzy tulle and metallic bands thatcatch the light and blink gold. It’s tacky as fuck, but the thing is, he kindalikes watching her work with her hands. Likes it when she’s workin’ that printer,slicing his money, likes it when she’s fiddling and fussing and straighteningthings out, reminds him of them on his - -

Nuh.

Not that.  

He pushes hisarm a little harder against the counter edge, not enough that she’ll notice,and sucks on his teeth, but shit, there’s that taste again, and he should lookaway, should stop watching her pale hands fumble with the handle of some bigass craft scissors, her narrow fingers small there – thinner than the blades,and just - - something in him twitches.

The customer’scell pings, and it’s enough to make him glance over, just in time to see thegirl quickly look away from him, and huh, he thinks, tilting his body away fromElizabeth and towards the girl instead. It’s almost too easy, to take her in,all frizzy, mouse-brown hair and bright green eyes, pink cheeks. She looks alittle curious, a little embarrassed, and he softens out a grin, nodding hishead towards the card in her hands.

“Birthday?”he guesses, and she blinks, surprised, before flushing a little.

“Engagementparty,” she replies, and Rio taps his knuckles down on the counter, all damn,so close, feeling something in him sharpen in satisfaction, when he feelsElizabeth’s gaze finally dart over to him.

“I don’teven want to go,” the girl adds, rolling her eyes in quasi amusement. “I justwork with her, but the whole office is going, so it’s like, become this bigdeal.”

Rio hums incommiseration.

“Things wedo for work, huh?”

And shit,ain’t that why he’s here tonight? Briefly, his thoughts tangle with theprospect of what he’s got to do, annoyance flaring with even the prospect ofthis fucking thing, but it’s stifled when the girl looks at him in surprise.

“Do you workhere too?” she asks, voice all loaded up with curiosity, and Rio grins, swayinga little as Elizabeth turns on the spot to grab one of the ribbons behind her,spin back, make jerky, awkward work of tying the bow.

“Somethin’like that.”

Behind him,the metallic schink of the scissors on the ribbon sounds louder in hisear, the force of the cut harsher than it needs to be, and Rio grins before hecan help it, just real fuckin’ delighted at the thought. Pissin’ her off - - itain’t like anything else.

“Do I get toask now?”

Rio blinks,pops an eyebrow as the girl flushes a little beneath the boldness of her ownquestion, and it reminds him of Elizabeth way back when, blinking those bambieyes of hers beneath the Cloud 9 store fluorescents. When that desperate edgeto her hadn’t been quite so shadowed, and huh, he tilts back towards the girl,softens his smile, waves a hand out like be my guest.

She sways onthe spot, pink in delight, bites her lip, and beside them, the wrapping papercrinkles roughly as Elizabeth’s pale hands tie bows.

“I’m goingto go with owner, I think.”

Rio laughs,twisting his head to find Elizabeth staring at him, unimpressed, before he swingseasily back to the girl.

“Got it inone, sweetheart.”

It’s enoughto make her flush all over, pleased, and Elizabeth to pick up the pace on hergift wrapping, finally finishing it and thrusting it into a bag, passing it on overas the girl starts rambling about a prize, and she’s talkin’ to him, but he don’treally care anymore. Not now that Elizabeth’s rounding the counter anddirecting the girl to the exit.

She don’twanna go, not right away. She lingers, staring at him, and he just keepssmiling wanly at her, nodding, and shit, it takes her forever to get the hint,finally scurrying out of the store. The door’s barely even closed before Elizabeth’sflipping the lock, the open sign to closed, and then she’s spinning abruptly toface him, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving.

“You can’tcome here when we’re open,” she tells him, and Rio pops an eyebrow at her,briefly amused, when she adds: “You draw attention.”

He curves sidewaysat that, further draping over the counter, drops his elbow to it, then his chinto his hand.

“Yeah? Howyou think I do that?”

And he can’tquite swallow the grin at the way she glares at him, striding over to that bigtable full of trinkets and shit in the middle of the store, and just startsfiddling in that way she does now. Like she needs something to do with herhands, and he lets her, moving a little forwards until he’s leaning backagainst the counter instead of beside it, eyeing her off. She ain’t dressedexactly how he wants her – in some dark wash mama jeans and some pale pinkblouse, dotted with flowers. Boots with a short, thick heel.

A sweaterwoulda been better, but this’ll do

“The pulp’sdrying,” she sniffs suddenly, eyes darting to him then away again. “So ifyou’re wanting - -”

But Rio justwaves a hand at her.

“Nah, yougonna call your sister and your lady friend. They can finish that tonight. Youand me got a job.”

It’s enoughto make her pause. To make her look up at him, her eyes wide, then narrowed,and shit, it’s that smell again, curling at his nose. He swallows, looksbriefly away, and when he looks back, Elizabeth’s still staring at him, thistime with something different on her face too – and it takes him a moment torealise that she’d taken him looking away as a win. He pushes off the counter,steps forwards quickly, just to see her jump.  

“What’s thejob?” she asks, trying to cover it, and Rio hums, moving past her to grab one ofthe little baggies of hard candy, twisting it over to half read the ingredientswhile he speaks.

“Need topick something up,” he says. Sugar and peppermint oil and water, that’s allthat’s in them. Vaguely he wonders if she’s made candies like this. Probably. Forbirthday parties and PTA mixers, to sell - too sweet - at fundraisers. He feelsher shift beside him more than he sees it, her hands stilling on a huddle ofpom pom keychains.

“Why do youneed me for that?”

“Don’t needyou,” he tells her flippant, tossing the bag of candy back down onto thedisplay, just to make her jaw square. “Just think your vibe gonna hit thiscrowd better.”

“What‘vibe’?”

And shit, hedoes look at her at that, arching an eyebrow, gaze flicking down her body, staringpointedly at her floral blouse and her mama jeans, not letting his gaze drag,because it ain’t about that - - can’t be about that, but then there’sthat smell again, and fuck, he thinks, tearing his gaze back to meet her own.

“You reallywant me to answer that?”

She rollsher eyes, shifts her weight, opens her mouth to say something, probably aboutneeding information or some sort of schedule or whatever other bullshit he ain’tgot time for, and he waits until he can see the word on the tip of her tongue,before he cuts her off.

“Finish lockin’up, call your girls. Want you in my car in five minutes, yeah?”

And withthat, he pivots, striding out of the store and back into the afternoon light.

[detroitbydark]

Have Yourself a Merry Airport Christmas (H.O.) Chp 2

Title: Have Yourself A Marry Airport Christmas

Chapter 2: You’re a Keen One, Mr. Brit.

Summary: You thought your holiday had been ruined until a handsome Brit steps in to rescue your Christmas spirit.

Word Count: 3000+

Authors Notes: This chapter is so self indulgent, particularly the beginning. I'm unrepentant. As before this remains to fluffiest of fluff. No Warnings.

Tags: @aossi​ @the-southernbelle​ @hoforhaz​ @tomsrebeleyebrow​ @skymoonandstardust​

“A bucket list? Like that thing before you die?” You ask a little incredulous. Harrison laughs, your face must show your confusion because he takes pity on you.

“Darling, I’m talking about your Christmas Bucket list.” He explains with raised brows as if it’s common knowledge.  “The things that you just can’t have a holiday without. Like, My family always watches The Polar Express-“

“I love that one! We always watched Scrooged and A Christmas Story.”

Harrison nods, his already bright eyes light up and he gives you a toothy grin. “That’s it exactly! Also, I love Bill Murray. You’ve got excellent taste.” 

It’s silly but you feel your cheeks heating up. You giggle at his praise.

“Ok, so now you tell me something on your bucket list.” He encourages. He leans his elbows on his knees waiting for your answer. You think for a moment. What were those things you had to have?

“Tourtiere” you say slowly, letting your mind roll through your families traditions.

“That’s French, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess, i think it’s more French Canadian? it’s this meat pie we eat every year on Christmas Eve. Oh! And Tom & Jerry’s!” You say enthusiastically

“A what? Like the cartoon?”

“No, no, no…it’s a drink” you laugh and Harrison smiles as you ramble on. Just talking about Christmas at home seems to magically transport you back in time. You're a child sitting on the red shag carpeting at your grandparents. Your Grampa is sneaking your pieces of chocolate out of the 5lb box he’d picked up at Sackley’s. Your Mother is shooting him dirty looks because she’s told you to eat your dinner five times already.   A virgin Tom & Jerry is cooling at your side and you use a spoon to scoop the sweet foam and eat it. The lights twinkling on your Gramma’s ancient artificial tree along with the tacky fiber optics she adored. Everything is right with the world as Bing Crosby songs a song about a White Christmas. 

“Sounds good. An American thing?.” He questions. 

You shake your head as you slip back into the present “Nah, it’s pretty specific to the part of Michigan I’m from.” Harrison is quick to make notes on his phone. 

You feel yourself wilt a little remembering that those are things you're missing as you speak. Harrison notices too, “what else? Tell me more. Don’t stop.” He pokes you gently in the shoulder, gathering your attention back.

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re doing” you tease, giving him a faux tight-lipped face. “Ummm...presents, of course, and hot coffee and fresh oranges or apples in the morning.”

“My mum always did pastries, sausage and eggs for Christmas breakfast.” He adds. 

“My Great Grandmother grew up during the Great Depression and they never had much for Christmas.” You explain trying to remember your Gramma’s stories, “she’d get,like, hair ribbons and pencils and would be so excited. But they lived on a dairy farm in Wisconsin so fresh fruit in the middle of winter was something crazy, especially like citrus fruit.” You can’t help but smiling at the memory. “My mom always went out and found the biggest, prettiest apples and oranges and put them in our stockings. We were allowed to go through our stockings before the adults got up but we had to wait for them to wake up to get our presents from Santa.” You pause, pulling a face “I feel like I’m talking a lot.”

Harrison moves closer so his knee is bumping against yours, “I like it. Don’t stop.” 

You chew your bottom lip trying to fight back a smile. Your gaze drops to your hands and then begins a slow scan of the gate around you. It’s cleared out a bit, you’d heard plenty of people on phones trying to secure hotel rooms and the like. There was still a good number of people around but it’s wasn’t nearly so crowded and people had more room to spread out. Some of the tension seemed to ease off too as people accepted their fate and tried to make the best of it. Nearby a few soldiers had pulled out a deck of cards and were playing what sounded like a rousing game of spades. By the window, a pair of small children race matchbox cars up and down the sill. A small tree with colored lights twinkles at the gate desk, it’s worker long since vanished.

“We put a pickle on our tree. An ornament” you clarify, not looking away from the tree. “The kid that found the hidden pickle got to open the first present”.

“I’ve heard of that.” He says scrolling through his phone and finding a picture. When he turns it, you’re greeted with one of the most gorgeous trees you’ve ever seen. It’s easily takes up the corner of the room. It’s needles are blue green. it’s full and bushy. You can almost smell the scent of pine just looking at it. White lights and gold ribbon twinkle and shine. Cream, gold, and deep burgundy ornaments cling to the branches and a bright glowing star sits at the peak just barely brushing against the ceiling.

“That’s Mum’s big tree” Harrison says proudly. “It sits by the fireplace and it’s the first thing you see when you come in. She has a smaller one she puts all of the ornaments my sister and I made over the years on. That’s where the presents go.”

You take his phone and let your fingers graze along the screen. “It’s gorgeous. I bet it looks even better in person.”

“Absolutely stunning” he agrees taking his phone back when you offer it, your fingers graze his and you feel a little spark travel through your hand. You don’t look at him but you can hear the deep breath he takes before starts speaking again “I’m...I’m missing her wassail this year. it’s like a spiced wine?.” He chuckles lightly, “now that I think of it quite a bit of our tradition involves alcohol.”

“All the best do” you offer with a wink and a nudge of your elbow.

The pair of you spend the next few hours talking about your families. You sound like a pair of excited children comparing traditions and holidays past. You reach a lull in the conversation and the two of you watch travelers mill by. Harrison inspects the list he’s been making. 

“Ok so I think we need to split up for a few? The shops are open for a bit longer and I need to get some things if we’re going to do this right.”

You laugh but realize he’s serious, “Harrison, we just met. You don’t have to do anything for me.” 

He gives you a soft look, “I want to do something to take my mind off things and if I can cheer you up while I do it? I’m pretty chuffed about the idea!” 

You can’t help the shy smile you fight back. When was the last time someone went out of their way for you. Here was an absolute stranger willing to spend his Christamas Eve and Christmas Day with the sad girl he’d just met for no other reason than to see her happy. 

“Can we just say we’re doing this for us?” He asks when you don’t respond back immediately. You nod, biting your lower lip to keep your smile at bay. Harrison doesn’t bother checking his as he pushes off the ground. He grabs your hands as he goes, pulling you up along with him. Your hands stays in his for an extra second before you pull away. He gives you a smirk, “So now we're going to split up.”

You’ve only just met him and you already feel hesitant to leave. You’ve always been accused of having an awful poker face and Harrison only confirms it. “Do you trust me?” The question startles you. 

You answer without hesitation. 

That startles you even more.

“Yes.”

“Alright then. You’re in charge of dinner tonight. I’ll take care of tomorrow, yeah?” You nod as Harrison continues, “give me your phone” he holds out his hand, palm up, and you quickly fish in your pocket. When you hand him your phone he quickly sets himself up as a contact and calls himself. “Ok, now that we can get up with each other we’ll do what we’ve got to do and meet back here in a few hours. Sound good?”

He’s wandering around one of the handful of airport shops that were still open. Today was definitely turning out to be a lot more interesting than he’d originally thought when he’d first seen his flight was canceled. He couldn’t help himself when he’d spotted you hiding under your hoodie. Alone. Like he was but so much more sad. It had radiated off you in waves and had drawn him to do something, anything to make it go away. 

He’s just finished grabbing a travel toothbrush and toothpaste. His bag was probably already at Heathrow already but regardless of where it was, he didn’t have it and he was going to need to get rid of some wicked morning breath tomorrow. His phone rings as he grabs a tiny bottle of mouthwash.  Tom’s ugly mug stares back at him before he swipes to answer it.

“Ello?”

“Harrison? Don’t tell me you got grounded.” He can hear the teasing tone in his friend's voice. Harrison picks up a Beanie Baby snowman from a display and tosses it in his hand for a moment before setting it back down. 

“Fine, I did NOT get stuck in Boston due to a stupid fucking snow storm.”

Tom laughs loudly, barking into the phone. Harrison holds it away from his ear until he’s sure he won’t rupture an eardrum listening to it. 

“Have you got a hotel. From what they’re saying on the news you’re likely to be there through tomorrow night at least. The whole north east is a mess.”

Harrison grabs some different candy bars, some bottles of water, a few various other little bits and bobs. He wishes he had a buggy because his arms are getting full. The older man at the counter catches his eye and encourages him to make a pile. Harrison nods in thanks as he unloads and starts moving around again. “Nah, I’m here for the duration I think.”

“Bullshit, I’ll make some calls-”

“Tom” Harrison interrupts before his friend can get to far ahead of him, “I’m spending Christmas here with a...friend.” The line goes silent for a moment.

“A friend…” Tom tries the words out slowly. Harrison picks up a travel sized fleece blanket and adds it to the pile along with a few things from his list. “Harrison Osterfield, you’re the only lad I know who gets snowed in at an airport and picks up a girl.”

Harrison makes a dismissive sound, “Not like that. Just two lonely souls finding one another on Christmas Eve.” It sounds a bit dramatic and cliche even to his own ears. It makes him smile.

“A proper Hallmark movie, you are” 

“Shut it Holland. She’s nice and she’s missing her family.” Harrison takes one last look around the store before handing his credit card to the cashier.  

“Well, I’m still making some calls.”

“I figured you would.”  Harrison takes his bags and fights back an eye roll. 

Tom couldn’t help himself. He was one of those people born to be a helper and, if you asked Tom himself, he’d tell you he’d been blessed with the opportunity to help and so he would. Harrison wonders idly what you would do if Tom did come through with a room. Would you come along with him or would that be the end of your budding friendship. He’d had a good time talking to you. He’d loved how your eyes lit up when you spoke of your family, even if he saw a hint of sadness when you spoke about how long it had been since you’d been home, or when you’d slipped and admitted they weren’t always supportive of your pursuits. His family was the exact opposite, so was Tom’s. It was hard to imagine any family not wanting to put all their love and strength behind someone going after their dreams. It made him want to make a night of sleeping in an airport something fun and memorable for you. 

“At this point I’m fine where I am man. Don’t worry so much. Did your Mum and Dad get in before the storms got bad?” He changes the topic to something Tom couldn’t help but talk about; his family. 

Nikki and Dom Holland were supposed to fly in with Sam and Paddy to spend the holiday in Atlanta. Harry had been with Tom for the last month. It was the first time in recent memory they’d have the whole family back together.

“Thank God! Yes! I would have been a fucking mess if they’d gotten stranded.” 

Harrison grins, “well tell them I say ‘hey’ and Merry Christmas.” 

Tom rambles on for a few minutes about the dinner Sam was cooking and marveling over how big Paddy was getting before the conversation starts winding down.  The sound of Paddy’s infectious laugh bleeds into the phone. “Hey, I’ve got a few things to do let me let you-” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Tom cuts him off. Harrison can hear him holding back his youngest brother. He hears the youngest Holland asking ‘Is that Haz? I wanna talk to Haz!’. Tom sounds out of breath and Harrison can only imagine him spinning in circles and holding his baby brother at arms length. “Tell your new lady friend, Merry Christmas for me!”

Harrison laughs as the phone goes dead. He wanders slowly back toward the meeting spot. He hadn’t noticed when he was rushing around but the airport had been neatly decorated for the holidays. Faux pine garlands hung across most shops and the occasional wreath decorated the front of the different gate attendant’s stands. 

A huge tree is simply decorated with white light and red and gold bulbs next to the massive Light up Boston sign created for tourist and instagram pictures. There’s a mother positioning a sulking teen in the gap where the ‘T’ should be.

“Come on Chad!” She encourages bringing her camera up. “Be the ‘T’. Put your arms out”. 

Harrison snickers loud enough that the kids hears him while jutting his arms straight out at his sides. He doesn’t smile but the mother seems to get the picture she wants and tells her son how excited she was to put it in her scrapbook. The kid gives her a soft smile at this. 

Harrison sees  you already back in your spot as he gets closer. You’ve got your phone held up. You must be FaceTiming your family. You’d mentioned earlier that you’d planned on doing it. He can’t help but frown at your strained smile. Your jaw is tight and your free hand is balled into a fist in your lap. 

His lips press into a firm line as crosses to you. Your eyes go wide as he appears next to you but you’re quick to turn your attention back to the woman on screen.

“I’m fine Mom. Really” you force the words out with another plastered on smile. 

“You’re sleeping in an airport, I wouldn’t actually consider that fine.” Your mother's tone is reproachful, “why didn’t you just get a hotel room. You’re always putting yourself in these situatio-“

“Mom” 

Harrison watches your cheeks flush red as he slides down into a sitting position next to you, his body just out of frame. 

“It isn’t in the budget.”

 He catches your eyes darting his way. You’re not sly. He lets his hand creep to your free one and gives it a little squeeze. You’re looking at your mother but your smile is suddenly less forced.

He feels yours fingers twine with his and give a gentle squeeze back. There’s a flurry of activity on screen and suddenly there’s other faces popping into screen, a dark haired man and a small boy’s face. Your smile widens as you see them.

 “Auntie Y/N! Merry Christmas!”

“There’s my little bud-“

“Alright Y/N. Please be safe” your mother starts, effectively cutting you off. Harrison losses site of the new comers as your mother must turns the camera from them.

“Your brother and the kids just got here” she continues in “and I’m going to get them settled in”

“Oh...ok.”  Harrison can hear the disappointment in your voice. He watches quietly as a flurry of ‘I love you’s’ flies back and forth before the screen cuts to black.

“You good, Darling?” Harrison asks after you put your phone away. 

“Perfect.” You force out. It’s clipped but you smile widely and he doesn’t want to push it. Your eyes wander to the bags at his side and you lean closer. He chuckles and tucks them behind him.

“No peeking until Christmas.” He chides. Your smile turns to something much more natural as you laugh. 

“Well fine than. You’re no fun.” You pout playfully before moving your own shopping bags into view.

Harrison watches you sit back, and begin pulling things out of a bag. “You ready for Christmas dinner?”

You dine on luke warm hot pockets that you’d instructed Harrison to pretend were meat pies. Baggies of fruit snacks are to be the substitute for cranberry sauce. He’d got a good laugh at the airport sized bottles of Baileys and rum you’d shown him hidden in your bag and stared at you curiously after everything had been packed and you’d all but dragged him through the terminal to Starbucks. You’d ordered two peppermint mochas and, as discreetly as possible, poured the contents of the bottles into each one.

“Boozy cocoa” you explained, with your arm looped in his while the pair of you strolled around the terminal. You drag him to a large window that looks out over the runways. The pair of you watch the plow trucks try to keep up with the snow.

“It’s pretty. Shitty, but pretty” you note and he laughs, watching you from the corner of his eye. The way the snow reflects the light leaves you softly lit. You're relaxed and leaning slightly into him. 

“It’s gorgeous.”

[damianosismyking]

Part IV

Part I - Part II - Part III

It was bound to happen.

That morning after breakfast Damen had left to work and Laurent was left alone to think. And he thought. And he couldn’t understand.

At night Damen showed up with flowers, take out and a box of chocolates in his best tacky way. Damen apologized to Laurent profusely, insisted he would understand if Laurent didn’t want to see him for a while and that he shouldn’t have put Laurent in a position that allowed his relatives to attack him.

Laurent understood even less.

When Laurent said he wasn’t in the mood for sex, he was sure Damen would leave then, but he asked if they could just spend some time together because he wasn’t in the mood for sex either. They ended up watching whatever was on TV together the whole night and cuddled to sleep.

For two days Damen and Laurent were closer than they had ever been. They talked a lot, Damen laughed at all of Laurent’s acid jokes, he listened to Laurent rambling about horses and the books he kept rereading; Damen was funny and had a similar sour undertone to his comments although he wasn’t nearly as snarky as Laurent. Laurent had always known Damen was a great listener, but he never thought Damen would spend an entire night awake just talking to Laurent about nothing special, sharing experiences, willingly listening to what was on Laurent’s mind, his take on society and the universe and the meaning of everything.

Laurent didn’t understand what was happening, but he wasn’t about to ask anything and ruin it all. It was just too good having Damen all for himself.

And so, two days later Theomedes came down to the stables.

No, really – it was bound to happen.

It was after Damen left for work (after spending the second night in a row in Laurent’s room).

Theomedes was fully clothed in his horsemanship vests, as imponent as he normally was. Theomedes waited outside for Laurent to fetch his horse and bring it to him. It was scary, Laurent wasn’t about to lie to himself.

Theomedes might fire him, despite what Damen had said to him the last time. He might order Laurent to gather all of his things and disappear before Damen was back. Theomedes could shoo him like a street dog no longer needed.

Theomedes could do a lot of things. He looked like he would.

“The stable boy managed to drag my son into bed and poison him against his family,” were Theomedes’ first words when Laurent handed the horse’s reins “For someone this young, I must say I’m impressed. Damianos is not one to be easily swayed. Jokaste herself couldn’t and she has a mind like a snake’s.”

“I must be worse than a snake then,” Laurent replied, proud of his sure and clear voice despite his shaky internal organs.

“You must be,” Theomedes mounted his stallion “You know, boy, there is no honor or pride in manipulating a good man in bed. My son can be naïve when dealing with a pretty face, he believes people are genuinely good – much like his mother. I can’t be fooled,” he huffed a laugh, looking down at Laurent “I knew you weren’t good when you somehow convinced Egeria to let you stay. I’ve always known you’d pull something off one way or another – much like you did to take money out of her.”

Laurent didn’t take Egeria’s money. She had offered, Laurent wanted to say, so he could finish school. She had insisted he’d complete his education, she registered him in school, she made him promise he’d do his best and he’d ask for her help if needed. Egeria did it out of kindness, just like she had done when she insisted she’d put him through college so he could leave the ranch and come back as a guest. Laurent was having a hard time turning down her offers when she fell sick. It was all Egeria. It came from her; Egeria did it because she was too good of a person – much like Damianos is now. Laurent didn’t say any of that. He held Theomedes’ gaze instead.

“You did a good job there, making him disrespect me in front of Kastor – I would never have thought that’s how you’d choose to act. It’s a shame that you can’t succeed by yourself and you recur to those hideous tactics.”

Laurent knew better than to tell him to go fuck himself. Laurent knew better than to tell him to choke and die. Laurent said, “I didn’t do any of the things you’re accusing me of, sir,” cooly

“I should fire you. I should kick you out of here for insubordination. I should warn all the neighborhood not to hire you –”

“You can’t do that, can you, sir? Damianos said himself, these lands are his, not yours,” Laurent kept his voice cool, knowing his face showed the same lack of emotion “If Damianos wants me out of here, then I’m out. I won’t look back. But I’ll stay here and work for him for as long as he allows me to stay,” Laurent paused “Respectfully, sir.”

Theomedes snorts. “You sure have a lot of nerve for a nobody,” there was a moment in which the wind, the horse’s breathing and the rustling of the trees around them were too loud and too present; Theomedes never looked more imponent, the expression ‘in a high horse’ never made so much sense, evoking the effect of the literal meaning of the words. Laurent felt small. He hadn’t felt this small in years. Since his parents died. Since he last saw Auguste. Since he last saw his uncle.

“You’re no good to him, child,” Theomedes’ tone changed. He was less threatening, less imposing; more hurt, disappointed “Damianos has a whole life ahead of him. He’s going places – you’re no good to him. You two aren’t the same level and you’ll slow him down. You’ll turn his life upside down and he’ll let you because he can’t put sense over heart if his life is on stake.”

With a shake of his head and a half-disgusted look, Theomedes ordered his horse forward and distanced himself quickly. Theomedes soon was nothing but a silhouette at distance.

Alone, Laurent knew Theomedes was right.

NEXT >

--

Read it on AO3. 

[kiruuuuu]

Oneshot in which Conrad deals with the aftermaths of surviving the Ourang Medan. ...more or less successfully. (Rating T, angsty rambling, ~2.3k words) - written for @wintergirlsoilder2​! You requested a Conrad-centric piece and I hope you enjoy it :)

.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea”, says Julia with this expression on her face she gets whenever she’s about to rain on his parade.

“Are you kidding?” He’s about to scoff but stops himself – she’s worried, he can tell, and he knows better than to make light of any part of their relationship. Julia’s accompanied him his entire life. “Halloween is my favourite holiday, I’m not gonna let some lame ghost ship – which we survived, by the way, hello – ruin it for me.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Connie, your birthday is your favourite holiday. It’s the Fourth of July, so you can double-drink yourself into a coma.”

Well. She’s not wrong. She never is where he’s concerned, and it’s one of the reasons he wants to get away from her, just for an evening. Just for a night, he wants to be whatever he chooses to be instead of being Julia’s brother. “It’s gonna be great, Jules. Keep worrying like that and it’ll show on your face.”

She’s silent. She could bring up the times he’s woken up screaming, his tic of brushing over his ear with his thumb, the one really bad day when he stopped breathing for a long while and then puked his heart out. She doesn’t. And the fact that she doesn’t explains why they’re still rooming together, despite all.

“I don’t think Alex wants to marry a worry-wart”, he keeps going, unprompted, just can’t stop running his mouth, “he wants to live together with the free-spirited, reckless, adventurous Julia who doesn’t mind her brother attending a Halloween party without her playing chaperone.”

It hits the mark. Like having touched open fire, she recoils and drops the subject and he almost, almost feels bad. They’re going through a rough patch right now, following the time during which they were attached at the hip right after coming home. It’s nothing they won’t overcome, Conrad can tell they’re too committed to each other, but it’s a sore spot nonetheless. And he just twisted the knife. So to speak.

.

He wouldn’t say he’s friends with the guy organising the party, but he knows a few people here and there – not enough to have earned a reputation, enough to feel invited. Bringing booze is an automatic ticket to being welcome anyway, and the greeting at the door seems heartfelt. After a few semi-awkward moments (and those have been common lately, he sometimes doesn’t notice the morbidity of his own jokes until shocked expressions drag him back to the real world), he’s found his social legs again and strikes up casual conversations here and there, drops one-liners which are met either with eyerolls and groans or half-hidden giggles and hearty laughs, and if he’s honest he doesn’t mind either. He’s always preferred being memorable over being modest.

Some people are in costume, most aren’t, but the home décor screams tackiness: spray-on cobwebs, badly carved pumpkins with half the candles out already, a mat under the carpet which lets out a witch’s cackle when anyone steps on it. Apart from that, the house is gorgeous, a large pool, a sunroom and even a tiny home cinema stuffed into the three-storey family home – family not included, apparently, all of them gone except for the son taking advantage of their absence.

Somewhere between the second and third beer, he considers texting Fliss. Asking her whether she celebrates Halloween, maybe, though it’d set her off again. Thinking of her causes his stomach to drop with the guilt of dragging her into the whole thing, the guilt of never again bringing up that investment he genuinely considered back then. She told them to never contact her again and keep their mouths shut. They have, for the most part.

The most part meaning everyone but Conrad.

“Do you want to know how I lost part of my ear?”, he addresses a small group of cute freshmen who were struggling to un-stack some chairs until he arrived and gallantly lent his aid. “It’s a long one, though, I must warn you. And not for the faint of heart – but you ladies look like you can take it.” He wiggles his eyebrows and they’re captivated, expecting a ghost story and a ghost story they shall get.

He fucking loves recounting the whole thing.

When Julia caught him the first time, she was livid for days, had a few one-sided screaming matches and tried to get Alex to talk sense into him, but Conrad laughed it off. No one’s gonna believe me, he said cheerfully. What, they’re gonna fly over and check? Launch an investigation? Tell their lawyer daddies?

Brad says it’s his way of coping with the trauma: by turning it into a spiel, he diminishes its significance, reduces its impact on him. Or tries to anyway. Brad also says it’s not a very effective coping mechanism. But Brad says a lot and Conrad doesn’t listen most of the time.

He’s too busy being the hero of his own story.

This night, he embellishes, dramatises, acts out what he usually glosses over, sugarcoats nothing. It’s Halloween and they expect a thrilling, gory tale, so he allows them the full experience – several times, he has to interrupt himself and give a brief thus far because of all the newcomers gathering around him like a bloodthirsty audience at an execution. God, it feels fucking good.

How their eyes go wide the moment he mentions the pirates. How their lips part subconsciously when he ditches escaping on the boat, alone, in favour of saving his friends. How none of them dares moving as he describes the military ship in great detail. In this moment, they’re living through it by his side; they’ve been transported to the ship themselves, feeling the clammy air, the cold, unforgiving metal under their bare soles. Wrapped around his little finger, he builds and builds and builds for them until they almost forget to breathe, and finally, inevitably, he releases them with a happy ending. It looks like a cathartic experience, and slowly, they return to the present, shaking their heads a little like a dog getting rid of raindrops, glancing at each other to gauge whether they were the only ones so tightly in Conrad’s grip. He’s convinced them all he’s a hero, a martyr, a protagonist.

All of them except for himself.

“That’s a fantastic story”, someone says appreciatively. “Do you have any others?”

And this is where his carefully erected self-importance crumbles. Because he lived it. He fucking lived it, you asshole, he’s got the scars to prove it and the memories so he’ll never forget, and still this dimwit beams at him like he’s the new Spielberg or King, fudging narratives out of thin air to please the crowd. “Sorry, dude”, he replies with as much venom as he can muster, “I only had the one horribly traumatic experience in my life. I understand that might not be enough for you, so my apologies. Maybe I can set out to almost get murdered next time – oh wait, that already happened.”

The atmosphere tilts together with him. People seem confused – is he method acting? Getting pissed because they’re not giving his well-spun yarn the credit it deserves? He should stop. He really should.

“If you want more thrill in your life, why not come and fight a guy who’s got nothing to lose, huh? Certainly beats doing the same meaningless shit over and over and over again.”

“Dude, chill, I didn’t mean to -”

“Yeah fuck you. Fuck off.” He’s washed into the kitchen by a wave of concerned partygoers and appeased with a few sips of the badly-hidden whiskey belonging to the head of the family, and after no time at all he’s back to his good-natured self.

Largely. He feels sharper ever since he survived that stupid ship, more cutting. Less forgiving. As if the world owed him after what he’s gone through, and he lets those around him feel it. Remarks hit where it hurts and he realises with increasing worry that he doesn’t care. They will never experience the same gut-clenching terror he did, so what’s a snide comment here or there?

There are moments in which he resents Julia. They frighten him, yet staving them off is impossible. It’s not her fault she’s found her happy ever after, he can’t blame her for having Alex anchor her. Alex is perfect and he should share their happiness, at the very least leech off it so his empty everyday life isn’t as bleak anymore, but instead he watches them with jealousy he frantically conceals from everyone.

He knows he’s spoiled. But he can’t help the pangs of contempt whenever they laugh about something, or Alex plucks something out of her hair, or she falls asleep in his arms during a muted commercial break. She always got over things more quickly, even if it never seemed that way. Conrad carries a lot around with him, most of which he refuses to acknowledge.

And then someone suggests going to a haunted house.

“Sure, man.” He laughs, and it sounds as easy as he intended. “Nothing can be scarier than what I’ve been through.”

.

The door’s locked.

He fucking knows the door’s locked.

In between deep breaths, he turns around and checks again, slides the deadbolt shut two more times, rattles the handle, turns the key as far as it will go. It’s locked. It’s secured tightly, and no one will be able to get in.

He has to force himself to walk away and though his legs carry him, he’s unsure where to go. He could go shower, that way no one will hear his quiet sobs, or he can be a fucking man and not cry like a baby over something that wasn’t even fucking real.

Having once read that eating counteracts anxiety as it tricks the body into thinking it’s not in danger, he sneaks to the kitchen and stuffs himself on fruits until he’s vaguely nauseous.

He’s such a fucking idiot. An idiot and a failure, a good-for-nothing, someone who can’t even figure out what he wants to do later in life. Who he wants to be. Certainly not Conrad the crybaby, Conrad the expert storyteller who nearly pissed his pants in a shitty haunted house.

He double checks the shutters, then turns to leave. Checks them again.

God, he’s pathetic.

For the first time in his entire life, he sends a u up? text to a guy. It doesn’t make him feel any less sorry for himself, but he couldn’t stomach Julia’s concern right now. The worst thing would be the compassion in her eyes instead of the triumphant I-told-you-so attitude. He’d welcome a smug grin more than a hug right now.

I am now, comes Brad’s response. Yikes.

sry, Conrad writes back, and then he’s stumped. Why did he contact him in the first place?

A few half-typed and then deleted additions later, Brad apparently gets impatient and sends another message: How’s your Halloween been?

Alright, he can work with that. apropriately spooky, he replies, went to a haunted house. disapointing tho, no beer anywere

Brad is silent for so long Conrad considers whether he’s fallen asleep. Are you trying to prove to yourself that you’re over it?

He can practically hear Brad utter the question in his head – no irony anywhere, no intent to attack or accuse. Mere curiosity. Maybe this is why he texted him, because he certainly approaches most everything analytically, whereas Julia can’t help but make it personal. wat do u mean?

We’re all suffering from significant trauma, yet none of us are seeking thrills the way you are.

Conrad stares at the words for a long time. It’s been barely a week since Julia begged him not to pick any more fights.

A haunted house does not sound like an advisable place to go in your condition. Are you alright?

He deflates, sinks onto his bed and kicks off his shoes onto the pile of clothes in the corner. He doesn’t bother to switch off the light. He sleeps with it on anyway. yeah, he claims, and then: not realy actualy. i was more afected than i thought i would be. Flashbacks are a bitch. It didn’t help that some guy thought his distress hilarious, given his chilling story before – as if he’d be immune from any scares, forever. It turned out to be the opposite. Conrad used to love haunted houses.

Don’t dwell on it. Finding the right way to cope is difficult.

No judgement. Somehow, speaking to Brad is soothing his frazzled nerves. wat do u do?

I research. Mostly real accounts of people who have gone through comparable experiences, but also on the history surrounding the ship.

To Conrad, that doesn’t scream ‘moving on’. doesnt sound that helpful ether tbh

It helps rationalise and normalise what happened. Knowing what others went through, I feel less isolated now. This will not define who we are in the future, even if it might right now.

He re-reads the last sentence a few times. Thinks of the night terrors which rarely let him sleep. Of how he considered getting a dog despite none of them having the time to care for a pet, just so there’d be an additional line of defence, in a way.

He wants so bad to move past all this.

alright, profesor, lets hear it, he types and gets more comfortable on the bed. hit me with the sob stories.

It’s not like he’d be sleeping any time soon anyway.