#bro has a mop head for a beard

[shortfilipin0]

anybody ever talk about the painting of udgey in the lobby

[huffle-dork]

Swap Beyond the Crystalverse Chapter 7: Banished Fae

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix Read Swapboys | Read Crystal’s AUs

Other Multiverse Stories: SITCV | SATCV | GITHV SBTCV Masterpost

Bro lands in a small living space. Its size is close to an apartment, but judging by the staircase leading to a second floor, and the half-open sliding glass door showing a backyard, it's a house. Just a very small one, a cottage, maybe. An older one. The floral wallpaper is peeling, and the wooden floors are dirty, especially around the front door and glass door. There's a small kitchenette in the corner right of the glass door, its appliances looking old, stains on the stove and rust on the metal cabinet handles. 

Bro has landed right in between a sagging sofa and a TV stand with a box of a television on it. Looks like this place is in the middle of being fixed up. There are cleaning supplies all over, including a big mop and bucket next to an ajar door leading to a bathroom. There are bags of groceries on the kitchenette counter, everything perishable put away. And it looks like someone's trying to hook up a more modern game console to the old TV. 

Bro looks around the new space in confusion. Huh… cozy little place. Wonder who’s staying here?

Voices come from through the glass door. Three of them. 

"The tulips are great, but you really need more variety. Oo! Have you ever heard of peonies?" 

"Oh! We could dig up the ground in this spot and put in a water feature with lilies and such!" 

"Do all of you guys have such strong opinions on flowers?" 

"Not that strong, but stronger than you." 

"Well I'll look into peonies, but I'm not tearing a hole in the ground." 

"Awww."

Bro  blinks as he hears the chatter outside. …so much gardening talk- he’s never really been into that kinda stuff. All of this goes straight over his head.

"I'm getting thirsty," says one of the voices. "I think I'll go back in to get a drink. Do you two want anything?" 

"Mmm. Yes, I will get a soda." 

"I don't want anything, but I'm coming anyway!" 

"Hah. Okay, okay." 

Sounds like the three voices are going to come into the cottage.

Bro freezes- ohhh this is always the awkward part! …he really should just stay out to see what he’s dealing with but- god he doesn’t want to scare these guys either! He frantically looks around as if something around him can give him an answer on what to do.

There's really not much in this cottage living room at all. If he wants to leave there's the staircase, the ajar bathroom door, another door beneath the staircase that probably leads to a closet. There aren't any knickknacks or anything--just the cleaning supplies and groceries. 

And then someone walks in through the glass door. A man in a long brown coat, square glasses hiding his eyes. He stops shortly over the threshold, seeing Bro, and gasps. 

Someone else starts walking in after him--a man in a blue shirt and snapback cap, with a thick beard--and the first man suddenly covers his eyes. "Gah!" the second man shouts. "Schneep, what the hell?!" 

"Don't look, Chase!" the first man says. "A doppelganger is here! Looking like you!" 

"The fuck does that mean?!" 

Bro is too overwhelmed with decisions that he ends up yelping in surprise as the brown coated guy- obviously Schneep covers other him’s eyes. Huh- blue… he doesn’t wear a lot of blue that’s more of Alt’s color. He grins and waves awkwardly, “Ahhh hello! S-sorry kinda just- felll in here! How’s it going~?”

"You will not find anything here!" Schneep says, looking awfully fierce. "How did you get in without an invitation?!" 

"For fuck's sake, Schneep!" Chase pushes Schneep's hand away. "Yknow, the fact that he is in my house without an invitation means that he's not a fucking doppelganger!" He looks at Bro. "Though, uh... you do look a lot like me..."

“I mean… doppelgänger is good way of putting it?” Bro says meekly, rubbing the back of his head. “I… I am you- I’m Chase Brody from another universe… surprise? Also what’s this about invitations??”

Chase blinks. "Uhhhhh... what?" He looks at Schneep. "Do you two know anything about this? Other universes?" 

Schneep shakes his head. "I have never heard of such a thing... though some say there are other worlds out there." 

There's a sudden streak of red, flashing from behind Schneep and moving towards Bro!It's so fast, that even with his super reflexes, he can't stop a heavy weight from landing on his shoulder.

Bro blinks in confusion then yells out as the red streak knocks into his shoulder and throws him off balance. “What the hell?!”

"I don't think he's a fetch," A voice says right by his ear. "It's too perfect-looking." And then something tugs on the rim of said ear. "And this isn't a glamour."

“Ow!!! What the heck??!” Bro cries out and swats at his ear, “the fuck is a fetch?? What are you??”

"Ah fuck!" Bro hits something solid and something red goes spinning to the ground. 

"Jackie!" Chase gasps, starting to hurry over there. 

"I'm fine!" The red thing stops spinning and rises back into the air. It's... a tiny person. Eight inches tall, with insectile wings on his back, beating swiftly. He's wearing a red outfit, with a hood pulled over his head, and has dark markings around his eyes, a bit like a mask.

Bro’s blinks rapidly and looks at his hand in confusion. Then he sees the tiny person flying in front of him and his jaw drops. He points at the fairy with wide disbelieving eyes. “…what in the fucking world…?!!! Y-You’re A fucking fairy?!” 

The little man glares at him, rising to his eye level. "Yes. And you just smacked me!" 

"You did land on his shoulder without permission, Jackie," Schneep points out. 

"I had to check that he was safe!" 

“I-I’m sorry! When something just talks in your ear like that it freaks you out!” Bro defends himself. 

Chase sighs. He looks at Bro. "I know. It's fucking insane, isn't it? You have no idea the crisis I had when I first found out."

But Bro blinks even more like this will help him make sense of what’s in front of him. “…this is sooo fucking weird oh my god-“

"God, I know, right?" Chase shakes his head. "I mean... you saying you're from another world is also weird." 

Jackie flies over and lands on Schneep's shoulder, sitting down. His wings fold, and as he turns around, looking around the room, Bro can see a shell on his back partially covering them. A red shell with black dots. "I don't see any sign of break-ins, and if he was of the Good People he'd need an invitation. So he's human. And he's probably friendly."

“…bro are you a ladybug??” Bro asks, completely missing what Jackie said.

"I'm a ladybug in the same way you're a monkey!" Jackie says, folding his arms. 

Bro flushes and waves his hands, “I-I didn’t mean anything by it! J-Just observing!”

"Calm down, Jackie, he means nothing of it," Schneep says. 

Jackie sighs. "Yeah. I'm like a ladybug." 

Chase walks over to the fridge and opens it up. "What did you want, Schneep?" 

"Cola." 

"Got it." Chase grabs a couple cans then looks back at Bro. "Want anything?"

Bro blinks over at Chase then shakes his head, “Uh no thanks-“ he then looks back at Jackie and Schneep. “…uhhh do you mentioned… invitations and uh.. good people. And that I’m human- which I am! …kinda? I’m also like- a superhero so that’s a dubious area-“

"You know--the Good People. The Fair Folk. The Fae." Jackie grins. "Like us." 

"Not me!" Chase hurriedly adds. "I'm human. And you're a... superhero?" He laughs. "Man... okay. Sure. That might as well happen.”

“Ohhh the fair folk!” Bro says, brightening. “I kinda know about them! Mostly just… fairytales my Emmy used to tell us!”

Schneep walks over to Bro. "I am sorry for snapping at you earlier," he says. "I thought you were here to hurt Chase." He holds out his hand, smiling. The cuff of his coat is wet, like he'd recently washed his hands.

Bro blinks and then waves Schneep off and shakes his hand, “No problem I get it! I hate that when I come into a new world it’s usually by accidentally intruding- I don’t try to do that normally!” He laughs.

"So this is a usual thing for you, then?" Chase raises an eyebrow. 

“By now it is,” Bro grins, “me and my brother are regular multiverse travelers now!” He points his thumb to himself cheekily.

Chase walks over to Schneep and hands him a can of soda. "Well uh... guess I should... explain some things? You're in this tiny town called Díbeamha, in Ireland. And uh... there are a lot of strange creatures living here." 

"We do not have many other places to go," Schneep says, opening the can with a hss. "For various reasons. They depend on the individual."

Bro nods to Chase, “Oh Ireland! Man- I haven’t visited here in a while…!” He laughs. Bro then tilts his head at Schneep and narrows his eyes slightly, “…you said we- are you also a fae-something-creature-thing??”

Schneep pushes his glasses up. "Well not exactly. The Good People are native to these isles. I am, as you can hear, German. But yes, I am not human. It's easier to lump myself in with the ones from here. Like this little pisky here." He reaches up and taps Jackie's head with his pointer finger. 

"Hey, you're going to ruin my hood!" Jackie complains. 

"Schneep got kicked out of his home, like... really kicked out," Chase says. 

"I do not mind. The rest of my people are monsters." 

“Oh,” Bro says simply, blinking at Schneep. He tilts his head at him, thinking. “…if you’re not human, then what are you?” 

Schneep hesitates. "My people are called nixie. Nix, for just one. You may not have heard of them." He takes a drink of his soda, not explaining further. 

“No I… don’t think I have. Huh…” Bro says, making a face. “My aunt and Emmy were both very Irish so that’s what I usually know of…” 

"Aaaand Jackie's on some sort of probation," Chase continues. "Eternally waiting to come back." 

"It'll happen!" Jackie says defensively.

Bro blinks at Jackie, “…isn’t eternity, like, forever though??”

"Chase was exaggerating," Jackie says. 

"I was," Chase confirms. "I don't think fairies live forever... but they do live really long." 

"I... might've been here for... a couple decades," Jackie says slowly. 

Bro laughs a bit at first- but then his face falls, “oh I… I’m sorry Jackie. It must be hard… to not be able to go home.”

Jackie rubs the back of his head. "I mean... it's not that long. But... yeah. It sucks sometimes. I-I'm really glad that I found this place to stay in the meantime." 

"Anyway... you have a brother?" Chase asks. "Huh. I don't have a brother. Or, uh... any family. Is he here now? Or are we going to have to prepare for him falling from the sky?"

Bro laughs, “He’s probably around this city somewhere if I had to guess. We travel through these worlds together- if you guys have any other friends you know- he might have fallen over by them.” He says casually.

"Hmm." Chase frowns. "Marvin or Jameson, then? Where are those guys now? They didn't show up for gardening help." 

"Eh. You know those two, they're not interested in that sort of stuff." Jackie leans back against Schneep's neck, and he unconsciously leans his head away so the ends of Jackie's wings don't tickle him. "They might be out in the forest, in Kilearney's, or maybe shopping somewhere." 

"We can go look for them," Schneep says. "Díbeamha is a small place. It will not take long. And if your brother was nearby, they will probably be helping him find you in turn."

“Most likely- we got something we need to find here,” Bro explains, “We had this thing we used to travel the multiverses easier but it got broken and the pieces broke off into other worlds. We gotta try to find them all before a really bad guy tries to stop us.” He pauses and makes a silly thinking face. “…that sounds like a plot to a kids cartoon or something-“ he laughs. “But yeah he’s probably with those two! We usually end up around you guys~” he grins.

Chase laughs. "Dude, sometimes I think my life sounds like a kid's book, I know how you feel." He takes a swig of soda. "Well, guess gardening is on pause. Walk around town time." 

"Yay!" Jackie looks over at Chase and smiles. "You sound so excited to go out!" 

"Hah. Well, this is a lot of excitement, isn't it?" Chase smiles a little. "Alright. Let's head on out." 

----------- 

Alt falls for a bit, and then lands somewhere outside. He's standing on an old stone bridge, arching over a small river. In one direction, a single-lane road extends into the distance. To the other direction... is a town. The buildings are spread out, old-fashioned in their style. The road heading this way is cobbled stone. If it wasn't for the telephone poles, he might think he's back in another medieval world. It's a nice, sunny day. The stream babbles cheerfully as it passes by. 

"Quaint little place," Anti comments. "This world is UA-0703020BF, according to IRIS. Seems fascinating." 

Alt shakes himself off then blinks at the surroundings. “Wow- it’s so…” he laughs at Anti’s description, “Yeah quaint. Say if the TRVLR is still broken how do you know what world is which?” He asks

“I hacked IRIS’s database in preparation,” Anti says. “Sam helped with matching them up. That does mean there’s a risk I’m wrong, since your TRVLR was from another world, but I’m sure I’m right. I even memorized some nearby worlds, just in case.” 

“That’s dedication to the cause, man. I gotta give you props!” Alt laughs. 

There’s a loud mrow. And suddenly a cat hops up onto the wall of the bridge. Holy shit. That’s a big cat. Even if the fluff is making it look bigger, it’s still about the size of a golden retriever. It’s almost completely black except for a big white spot on its chest, and it stares at Alt with unblinking green eyes.

Alt jumps at the sight of the black cat- momentarily panicking thinking it’s on my mag’s panthers-! But this one, while huge, isn’t as big as those guys. He stares in wonder at the cat. “Woahhh… uh- hi kitty?” He waves.

The cat tilts its head and loafs.

Alt’s heart melts and he prowls closer, offering his hand for it to sniff, “Ohhh you’re so pretty! Can I pet you?” He coos.

The cat leans forward and sniffs Alt’s hand. It seems to find him friendly, and pushes its head towards Alt’s hand. 

Alt beams and quickly starts to give the cat all the best pets, cooing softly to it, “oh you’re so big and fluffy!! How’d you get so big huh? You’re adorable!” 

Then there are footsteps. A man is walking towards the bridge, towards the town. He stops, seeing Alt, and for a moment he looks shocked, then relieved. This man is wearing a dapper outfit, with a vest that ripples in shades of red and orange, and has a very distinct mustache. He tips his hat—gray with a red ribbon around it—in greeting. 

Alt blinks up as the man addresses him- and recognizes this must be the Jameson of this world. He smiles and waves with one hand- the other still petting the cat. 

The man--Jameson Jackson, of course--walks up onto the bridge. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small notepad and fancy-looking pen, writing down something and showing it to Alt. 

Hello. I think you're new in town, right? My name is Jameson, what can I call you?

Alt blinks and finally stops petting the cat and smiles at Jameson. “Hi, I guess I am new, huh? you can call me Alt.”

Jameson smiles and writes down something else. Nice to meet you, Alt! What brings you to Díbeamha?

Alt hums, sticking his hands in his pocket, “Oh I’m looking for something here. And my brother too- but we just got separated so I’m sure I’ll find him soon.” He looks out at the town, “Guess this place is small enough you guys don’t get a lot of travelers huh?”

Jameson shakes his head. No, not at all. Everyone pretty much knows everyone. Do you need help finding your brother? I can show you around. After Jameson shows Alt the writing he reaches out and scratches the cat beneath the chin. It starts to purr.

Alt smiles, “I mean- I guess I wouldn’t mind if you’re not busy. He’s pretty easy to spot- especially if you guys aren’t used to strangers.” He grins more as Jameson pets the cat, “This is a pretty big cat- do you know its story? I’ve never seen one this big before!”

Laughing silently, Jameson writes something else down. He's a special breed. You'll see him around town sometimes, no owner or anything. Don't worry, he's harmless. Unless you're unkind to him, of course. Jameson jerks his head towards town, as if to silently ask, 'shall we go this way?'

Alt looks down at the cat, “Huh… neat.” He smiles then starts to follow after Jameson. “Oh by the way- I know sign language if that helps. Should have… said something sooner-“ He laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

The cat hops down, trotting after them. Jameson looks at Alt in surprise, then laughs again silently. He puts the notepad away. That does help, thank you! he signs. 

Alt chuckles, "No problem, must be a bitch to write to everyone!"

There are a few people out walking around. No cars. Doesn't look like there's many of those in this town. Some of them wave at Jameson as he walks by, and he waves back. 

As they walk, Alt looks around the village and is surprised. "... this is a very small town. I mean... feels Irish so i guess that tracks but... this feels like abnormally small..."

Jameson blinks. It feels Irish because it is. He chuckles. Did you forget you were in Ireland? Or did you somehow arrive here without realizing? Still, you're right. This place is tucked away. It's nice.

Alt flushes and laughs awkwardly, "Ah- well... k-kinda the second one. I kinda just.... fell in here."

Jameson stares at him for a moment. He tilts his head thoughtfully. From where? 

"Uhhh... a parallel universe?" Alt grins nervously. Might as well rip the bandage off.

Whatever Jameson was expecting to hear, it clearly wasn't that. The cat, still walking next to them, lets out a long mrrrow and Jameson glances down at it, nodding as if in response. He looks around. I feel like we need to sit down to discuss this, he says. 

"Yeahhh- that's fair." Alt sighs. 

In here, this should work. He heads to a building with a hanging sign reading Kilearney's. The mugs on the sign show that this is some sort of pub. 

Jameson opens the front door, causing a bell to chime, and a voice from inside calls out, "Ah, Jameson! Please, come in, lad." Jameson then steps inside. 

Alt looks around the pub with interest- god a drink sounds good.. but he has to make sure he stays on task too. He blinks over at the voice, trailing behind Jameson.

The interior of the pub is pretty typical for a place like this. Heavy wooden tables, rafters crossing the ceiling, and a bar up against the right wall. There are some posters decorating the walls--but the main decoration is the huge-ass crossbow mounted near the ceiling. The pub is empty except for two people behind the bar. An older woman wearing an apron, her brown-gray hair held back behind a red-brown scarf. And a younger person with long white-blonde hair and big black eyes. 

"Oh? You're new," the woman says to Alt. "Friend of Jems'?" 

Alt grins nervously and hides his face partly in his mask. "U-Uh yeah- just... sorta wandered into town. N-Nice place you got here?"

"Thanks." The woman nods. "Call me Meabh. I'm the barkeep. This is Zephyr." She jerks her head at the younger person. "He works here. Can I get you anything?" 

Alt nods his head in greeting. “ah I think me and Jameson just needed a good place to talk-“

The bell chimes again as the door opens. A man stands on the threshold, wearing a black jacket over a white shirt, black jeans, and black boots. There's all sorts of silver and gold bracelets along his arms, and his shoulder-length brown hair has a few small braids in it. 

"Ah, Marvin, come in," Meabh says. 

"Thanks." The man--Marvin--walks in, and looks at Alt. "Hi."

Alt blinks at the new person and awkwardly waves, “Uh- Hi.”

Don't worry, Marvin is a friend, Jameson says. But he's not very good at acting like a person. 

“…what’s that supposed to mean?” Alt asks with a confused face. 

Marvin makes a face at Jameson. He walks over to the bar. "Usual?" 

"Yep." Maebh turns back and starts making a drink. "Don't knock the cup off this time." 

"That was an accident." 

Alt laughs, “Ha! You’re making him sound like a cat!” 

"Heh. I am, aren't I?" Maebh smiles a bit smugly, and Marvin rolls his eyes. 

Jameson gestures for Alt to come sit down with him at a table. So... a universe? he asks. What do you mean by that?

Alt then blinks and follows after Jameson. He sighs and removes his mask from his face and talks with his hands as he explains, “Well- me and my brother… we’re people from a different world altogether. Like- in comics when you meet your alternative self that’s you but also not you. That’s us- …if you know anyone named Anti… that’s who I am.”

I've heard of comics like that, Jameson says slowly. My friend Jackie is a big fan. 

Marvin sees him say this and laughs. "'Big' fan." 

Yes, yes, it's very funny. Jameson gives Alt another look, thoughtful. I did think you looked like him... but you're clearly not. You're... human.

Alt blinks in confusion at Marvin then back at Jameson. He seems to relax a bit that there's no instant hostility. "... kinda? I'm... mostly human, I think. But I'm also well..." He glitches back across the room and then back into his seat in a bright flash of green, a flurry of pixels bouncing off him for a second. "...I'm magic."

Jameson gasps, eyes wide. 

Marvin whistles. "I've never seen magic like that before!" he says. "You two?" He looks back at Maebh and Zephyr. 

"Not in all my days," Maebh mutters, handing Marvin a drink in a soft orange color. Zephyr shakes his head. 

That... definitely lends claim to you being from some other world, Jameson says slowly.

Alt grins sheepishly, “I’m… kinda an outlier for most magicians in my world… cuz I’m also known as a Glitch. But that’s… complicated.” He shakes himself out, letting himself fizzle and pop with glitches now that he doesn’t feel like he has to hold back. “So… by what you said about other me- this world's Anti… is he not human or… well considering everyone’s not more freaked out I guess non- humans and magic are more prevalent here?” 

The four others in the room exchange glances. Clearly, they're wary about something. 

"Zephyr, how do you feel about him?" Marvin asks. 

Zephyr walks around from behind the counter. Suddenly, he's really close to Alt, leaning onto the table. He quickly reaches out and touches Alt's hand. Then, just as suddenly, he's backing up. 

He's good, Zephyr says in sign language. 

Alt glitches back as Zephyr approaches then glitches even more and kinda hides behind his chair. “hey what the fuck??” He bites out. “What was that for?”

Well... that was no doubt really confusing for him, Jameson comments.

Zephyr also shrinks back in turn as Alt snaps at him. 

"Hey! Leave off him!" Meabh says defensively, baring her teeth. 

Everyone calm down! Jameson hurriedly signs. We're all friendly here. He sighs. I suppose you all should have ASKED before suddenly approaching. 

Sorry, Zephyr signs. 

Alt fizzles and pops, “I-I just don’t like being touched by people! Especially strangers!” He defends, crouching behind the chair, sparking a bit.

Sorry, Zephyr says again, looking guilty. I... don't like that either. But I wanted to be sure you were safe. 

Alt nods to Zephyr, “I-It’s okay… just a bit of warning I-is good…” 

"Zephyr is a... let's say he knows what people are like," Marvin says carefully. "And if he says you're good, then you're good. We can probably trust you." 

Alt starts to relax as Marvin explains , “oohhhkay?” He says in confusion.

Meabh sighs and starts polishing a glass. 

To answer your question, Alt... magic is prevalent, but non-humans not so much, Jameson says. Except in certain places. This town being one of them. You are... actually the only human in this room right now.

Alt’s eyes widen as he looks around, “wait seriously??? None of you are human?!”

"Not-a-one," Maebh says casually. 

Jameson tilts his hat back, and--holy shit, how did Alt not notice before? His ears are pointed. And his vest--it's not some shimmery fabric, it seems to be made from vivid autumn leaves pressed together. 

Marvin also pushes back his hair. His ears are similarly pointed, though with some tufts of black fur at the tips.

Alt turns to look at eveyone and starts to take in the details but he’s still confused. “Okay uh.. ears- I guess those are pretty inhuman… but what are you all like… elves then? Like dnd?”

Jameson shakes his head. Not like that game--though that game is quite creative. "Elves" to us means little people, one to three feet tall. 

Marvin takes a sip of his drink. "How much do you know about Irish folklore?" 

“A decent amount… my mum and Emmy are Irish,” Alt says, “Emmy used to tell me and Chase folktales as bedtime stories. Plus we grew up in Dublin…”

"Well you'll know all about the People of the Hills, then," Marvin says, grinning. "Surprise! That's us."

Alt’s eyes widen, “…fae- you’re all Fair Folks?”

Jameson smiles. Exactly. Though not everyone in town is--in fact, most are human. But everyone knows about the ones who live here. Even if they don't... KNOW know, if that makes sense. 

"Though the four of us are different," Marvin says. "Jems here is the only gentry--you know, the traditional human-like ones."

Alt nods but then knits his eyebrows together, “…maybe I don’t remember as much as I think… cuz aren’t gentry like… nobility?”

Jameson purses his lips. ...techically. But there are... levels. And it's very possible for one to... lose favor. 

Marvin hisses, narrowing his eyes. His ears move, lowering. "Pricks." 

Alt blinks a bit more in confusion. “So you’re like… fae nobility?” 

Before that can be explained, the bell at the door chimes, and a man in a snapback cap walks in. "Oh hey! You guys are here!" 

And behind him--is Bro.

Alt jumps and glitches back as the door opens then he grins as he sees Bro. “Chase!” 

Bro grins wide too, “Yooo! We getting drinks?? Fuck yeah!” He sees Jameson and Marvin and waves, “Sup?”

All four of the guys snap towards Bro. Marvin hisses again. "Is that a fucking fetch?!" 

"He is not a fetch!" Schneep is still standing on the threshold of the pub even as Bro and Chase walk in. "We already went through that, he is human." 

Alt narrows his eyes at the hostility towards his brother, glitching a bit. But, he deflates quickly as the others do. 

Maebh bows her head in his direction. "Welcome in, doctor." 

"Jackie is here too." 

"Him too." 

Schneep nods and walks over, joining Alt and Jameson at the table. Huh, that's weird. There are a few puddles of water that follow him, like he was dripping. But he looks completely dry. 

“Man, these fetch guys must be real trouble-“ Bro comments as he walks over to Alt to sit at the table. 

"Fetches are spectral creatures that take the form of a human," Marvin explains. "Then they kill them. With magic. So yes. Wouldn't want that to happen to Chase." 

“Oh,” Bro says, looking a bit pale, “…yeah that’d be bad.” 

"So... I am guessing you are this other Chase's brother?" Schneep asks.

"Nice to meet you!" Chase says. "Wow... fucking wild that I have a brother in another universe."

Alt blinks then nods, “Yeah hi, I’m Alt. Nice to meet you all too.” He smiles sheepishly.

"Well you have not met all of us yet," Schneep says. He points at his coat pocket... which is moving. 

And then a tiny person pops out of it. "Heyo! So I guess you've already got the run-down then!" Jackie laughs. He looks at Alt--and for a moment, his expression turns to shock. Then he shakes his head, brushing it off.

Alt blinks at Schneep then yelps in surprise and glitches back. Then he blinks rapidly. “Oh! Uh- h-Hi there! Jesus… you’re a fairy!” 

Bro laughs, “You’re a bit calmer about this then I was, bro!” 

Alt looks confused at Jackie’s expression then waves towards Jameson, “Uh yeah- J and Marvin were just explaining stuff to me…”

"Honestly you're both taking this so much better than I did," Chase says, sitting down. "I guess being from other universes help?" 

Alt shrugs, “We’ve seen a lot of crazy shit. And a lot of different worlds.” 

Chase is human too, Jameson says to Alt. 

"Yeah, I just moved here recently, actually. All the way from the US--you have no idea the fucking heart attack I had the first time I saw any of these guys." 

“Oh hey! We’re originally from the US too!” Bro grins at Chase, “mostly grew up in Dublin though!” 

"Are you all actually going to get anything?" Maebh asks. "Or are you just going to take up space in my pub?"

Bro turns around to look at Maebh and then grins, “Oh I’ll take something!” 

Alt lightly hits him, “Chase! We’re supposed to be focusing, not drinking!” 

“C’monnnn Alt! You got to get that like- Wendy’s knockoff thing! Can’t we just have like… one? Maybe two??” The hero pouts to his brother. 

Alt just crossed his arms and gives him a look.

"Oooo, Maebh, give me a crow's nest!" Jackie flies out of Schneep's pocket and over to the bar. 

"Put it in the bowl, Jackie," Maebh says, pushing a small ceramic bowl over to him.

 Jackie digs into his pockets and pulls out a couple handfuls of shimmering dust, dropping it in the bowl. 

"And the rest of you?" Maebh asks. 

"I am fine." Schneep nods. 

Me as well, Jameson adds. 

Chase hesitates. "Nnnno." The guys all turn to him and smile, all looking proud in some way. Chase rolls his eyes. "Let's not talk about it." 

Bro blinks then gives Alt puppy dog eyes.

Alt stays firm then finally sighs and waves him off. “One drink- anymore and I’m leaving your drunk ass behind.” 

“Psssh im not gonna get drunk from two drinks! But fine- compromise!” Bro grins, hurrying over to the counter. He then blinks, “uhhh… hm… is this like- faeee alcohol or… human?” He asks sheepishly.

Maebh laughs. "I'd be in real fucking deep for serving otherworld stuff to humans here. You think I want the rest of Themselves in this town to drive me out?" 

"I asked about it too, bro," Chase calls. "Apparently fairy food does weird shit to your brain. Probably not a good idea if you want to stay clear-headed." 

“Oh… yeah I figured fairy food would do that-“ Bro laughs, remembering their time in the Wyldwoods.

"Here, Zephyr, hand him a menu while I work on that mini crow's nest," Maebh says. 

Zephyr hurries over, pulling a handmade paper menu out from under the bar and handing it to Bro. Looks like they have just about any type of alcohol imaginable.

As much as Bro wants to try that he doesn’t wanna piss off Alt or get them in serious trouble just for being curious. He looks at the menu then shakes his head and laughs, “I’ll just take two Irish whiskeys please-“ He says, pulling out his wallet.

"Got it," Maebh says. "Zeph?" 

Zephyr nods, and makes Bro his drinks. Meanwhile, Maebh hands Jackie a tiny drink in a miniature glass cup that's actually pretty cool-looking in how well-made it is. 

“Oh my god it’s so tiny!!!” Bro squeals. 

"I still think that's so fucking cute," Chase says, grinning. "Oh, Bro, don't say thank you. They don't like that here... for some reason." 

"We don't like being in debt, and that's what thanks implies," Marvin says, taking a sip of his own drink.

Bro blinks at other him, “Oh! Okay- that makes sense… I guess?” He laughs as he takes the drinks from Zephyr, he opens his mouth then just nods to him before hurrying over to the table. 

Alt sees the two drinks and sits up quickly, eyes sparking a bit, “Hey! I thought I said-“ 

“The other is for you, dummy!” Bro laughs, handing Alt the other glass. 

Alt blinks slowly then takes the glass and holds it. “…oh-“ 

“maybe it’ll get you to chill out a bit-“ Bro smirks as he takes a sip. 

Alt hits him again. 

Jackie flies over to join the rest of the group at the table--though Marvin continues to hang back. 

"Were you two not here for something?" Schneep says, frowning. "You should not ah, 'chill' too much." 

I'm sure they know what they're doing, Henrik, Jameson says. Once they finish they can go do whatever they're here to do. Perhaps we could help. We all know the area really well, after all.

Alt moodily sips at his drink… damn that’s good. He has to admit it’s nice to just have a quick drink.

“Hey it should be no big!” Bro laughs, “We’re just looking for something- we got a really good way to look for it too!” He says pulling out the tracker and touching the pupil. 

Marvin makes a mrrp sound and walks over. "Magic?" 

Schneep chuckles. "Marvin loves his magic." 

Alt grins, “Yeah it’s magic! It’s like a scrying orb- but it’s attuned to the thing we’re looking for.”

The tracker tells Bro that the part is in the forest to the north, in the hands of the fae that lives there. Bro looks down at the eye and seems troubled, “uh,.. we may have an issue…” 

“Huh? Why?” Alt asks. 

“The orb says it in the north part of the forest… and it’s with the fae that live there.” 

The mood immediately drops. Jameson in particular looks the most nervous, going pale... or, even paler. Alt hadn't noticed it before, but Jameson doesn't look fully well. Kind of like how people look when they've been inside sick for a while. 

"The north, right?" Chase says. "I've, uh... been told not to go that way." 

"We've told other Chase this, but um... all of the Fair Folk are here because we cannot go back home, for some reason," Schneep says. "Many of us were banished. And among them... the one they call the Iron-Mad Prince. He is the one who lives in that area."

“He’s a banished fae too? Living in the forest?” Alt asks. He gauges everyone’s expressions and purses his lips, “…guess he’s a really big threat huh?” 

“Why is he called the Iron-Mad Prince?” Bro asks, tilting his head. “…that’s a fucking sick title though I have to admit.”

"Oh, um... not really an immediate threat," Marvin says slowly. "But if you go in there... it's a risk." 

He's called that because... iron isn't good for us, Jameson explains. It tends to have a bad physical and mental effect. But the Iron-Mad Prince is, for some reason, obsessed with it. With human technology. It's driven him... a bit... well, mad. 

“Oh yeah! I’ve heard iron is bad for fae,” Bro says, nodding. 

"And he's a prince because his brother is one of the Fae Kings," Jackie adds. "Of the Green Court, nearby. That's where I'm from, too." 

Alt holds both hands around his drink tightly. “…does the Prince… look like me?” He asks quietly.

A moment passes. Then Jackie nods. "...except for your eyes," he says. 

"Are you thinking that that guy is you?" Chase asks. "In the same way that Bro is me?"

Alt nods and then sighs heavily and takes a bigger sip of his drink, “Yup. The other mes tend to be… mad. And tied to tech somehow…” 

Bro frowns then messes with his hair as he takes another sip too. “Well… if he’s not an immediate threat then… we might be able to just find the piece and get out there, you know?”

"I guess it's possible," Marvin says slowly. "The goal will be to get in without attracting attention. Or getting too close to any of the iron he has lying around there."

 “What can he like- sense the iron around? That’s weird…” Bro frowns. 

“Guess it makes sense… makes him sound like a stalker though-“ Alt mutters. Bro blinks and Alt looks back at him, “Like the hybrid that Schneep was? They collect scrap metal.” 

“Oooh! I forgot about that to be honest.” Bro laughs. 

Alt’s eyebrows furrow, getting lost in thought for a second. 

"Wait, You guys want to go?" Chase asks, surprised. "But--you just said iron was bad for you." 

"These guys will need our help!" Jackie says. He reaches down to his waist, and in a flash of light, he suddenly has a tiny silver sword. "As a knight of the Green Court--" 

"A knight on probation," Schneep mutters. 

"--I am bound to protect human and fairy from danger!"

Bro gasps in delight at Jackie pulling out his sword. “Woah! Tiny knight!! That’s awesome!” He grins.

"Heh." Jackie grins and does some fancy maneuvers. "Knights come in all sizes in the Courts. Because threats come in all sizes as well." 

Jameson sighs. I'll come too. I know the forest well. 

"Me too." Marvin nods. 

"Iron does not affect me as strongly as the Good People from these islands," Schneep says. "So I will come, too." 

Chase frowns. "Well... now I have to join in."

Bro blinks at everyone then smiles, “Great! It’ll be good to have people who know the land! And get to know you all! I wanna know more about what you all are!” 

Alt nods and glitches to his feet, taking one last sip of his drink. “Alright then… guess we should get going, huh?”

"Good luck, lads," Maebh says from behind the bar. "If you need help, send a signal and I'll come running." She tilts her head at the giant crossbow on the wall. 

Best wishes! Zephyr adds. Your pure hearts will guide you. 

Bro waves at them with a bright grin, “th-!” He starts to say before he closes his mouth and nods again, giving them both a thumbs up.

"That sounds like a Barbie movie quote," Chase chuckles. Both Alt and Bro laugh at Chase’s joke. 

Jackie makes his sword disappear again and chugs the rest of his drink. "Alright, let's go." He hops into Schneep's pocket, head and hands sticking out.

Alt glitches towards the door. Bro walks up besides Jackie and Schneep, “You can fly dude! Why you hitching a ride on Schneep?”

"Why do you take a car when you can walk somewhere?" Jackie asks. "Also, the Fair Folk might be an open secret, but it's still a secret." 

Schneep chuckles. "I do not mind." 

“Oh- well- damn I was excited to have a flying buddy!” Bro laughs. 

"I'll get out once we get into the forest don't worry," Jackie says, grinning. 

Marvin puts his empty glass down, stretching. He stares at the glass for a moment. 

"Noooo," Maebh says warningly. 

Marvin looks back at her. Then he walks towards the door and--and between one step and the next he changes shape. Into that cat Alt saw on the bridge. The cat walks over to the door and looks back at the others, waiting. 

"Bro, you just got rid of your thumbs, you can't just stare at us to open the door for you," Chase says, standing up.

Alt blinks then points at Marvin with a slight Pog face. “Oh my god!! You’re the giant cat?! …actually that explains so much-“

Marvin looks back at him and meows in such a way that it sounds like he's laughing. 

"Yep. Marvin can turn into a cat," Chase says. 

Actually, it's more like he can turn HUMAN, Jameson corrects. The cat is his main form. 

Alt’s eyes sparkle, “That’s so cool!” 

Jameson gets up and goes over to the door, pushing it open. Ready? 

“Ready," Chase, Jackie, and Schneep all say in unison.

Bro laughs, “Ready!” He says a bit after them. 

Alt nods and follows after Jameson. Then he grins at the others, “You know- I can change into animals too!”

"Whoa, really?!" Chase's eyes widen in surprise. "Sick." 

"Oh, I've never met a human mage who can do that," Schneep says. "I believe it's difficult to master. 

“Well… it certainly was a difficult skill to get-“ Alt says, rubbing his wrist. “But it’s… useful. And a cool trick. I try not to do it too often though.” 

“I'd ask you to show us, but let's at least get out of town first?" 

"Oh! What about the other Chase who says he's a superhero?" Jackie has ducked back beneath the flap of Schneep's pocket, so his voice is muffled. "What can he do?" 

And I know Marvin is curious about the rest of your magic, too, Alt, Jameson says. 

Indeed, Marvin is prancing by Alt's side and looking up with wide eyes. His pupils are large in the way cat pupils get.

Bro grins, “I am a superhero! I can fly, I have super strength, super speed and I can shoot lightning! That one is kinda hard though-“ 

Alt blinks down at Marvin and grins wide. “well- once we’re in the clear I’ll show you all.”

Marvin looks away again, purring a little. 

Chase shakes his head. "Man... why is everyone around me so cool?" 

Bro nudges Chase with a smile, “Hey give yourself some credit! You’re cool too!”

"Heh. Thanks, man." Chase smiles at him. 

Then, they all start off towards the forest.

[drmaddict]

Can I touch your hair?

Summary: Steven is curious about readers short hair.

Warnings: fluff, sleep deprived Tony Stark beeing Tony Stark

I was sitting in the common room of the avengers tower listening to my podcast, drinking my coffee. My dad Tony had only shuffled past me 5 minutes ago into his room to go to sleep. God only knows how long he had been awake again.

Steve had joined me, having already completed his usual exercise routine. He was sketching something in his pad while eating his breakfast.

He was watching me. As he had been doing on and off for the past few weeks, out of the corner of his eye. Probably thought he was being subtle.

"Can I ask you something?", I asked, stopping my podcast.

He nodded. "Why are you looking at me like that all the time?"

He faltered before shaking his head. "Nothing." he smiled politely and minimally pushed his sketchbook away from me.

"Oh come on. I'm a big girl. I can handle it," I teased. "What do I do to pique the interest of the great Captain America?"

He kneaded his hands. "Can I touch your hair?" he blurted out. Immediately he squinted his eyes and turned bright red. "Never mind. Sorry. That was...forget it," he stammered.

"My hair?", I laughed. "Why?"

He just continued to shake his head. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. You don't ask things like that."

By now he resembled a ripe tomato. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the cutest thing I'd ever seen. "Deep breath big guy. You're very welcome, but I'd still like to know why." I leaned further toward him, resting my head on my fist.

He looked cautiously at me. "They're just so short... And I... Back in my days, women hardly ever had short hair. Not that short at least... And if they did, they were in movies, or in photos, but I never knew anyone... No woman with hair that short and...", he left the sentence unfinished.

"And you're just curious. That's okay," I smiled at him. "You asked me if you could touch my hair, not if you could touch my boobs." He seemed on the verge of collapsing at that comment. "Most people don't even ask. They just mop through it. So knock yourself out." I smiled encouragingly at him and patted his hand.

He lifted it hesitantly and gently stroked along my short bangs before reaching further up and pushing his fingertips through the short strands. "So soft." he smiled.

"You're lucky there's no gel in it.", I smiled. He slid his hand to the back of my head and then on to the trimmed out nape. Most people didn't treat me this tenderly. There was a seductive ease. There was awe in his touch and I surrendered to it. I closed my eyes with relish, enjoying the gentle caress of his fingers on my neck.

"Hey!" a shrill voice snapped us out of our little bubble. My dad was standing in front of us still with dark circles under his eyes, staring at us in bewilderment. "Film that soft porn in one of your rooms, will you!"

"Don't be so dramatic," I sighed.

Dad just shook his head. "That's my daughter! Don't you ever think about the bro-code man?" he shook his head in mock disappointment. "Don't you dare dishonor her. I want to see a ring on that finger! Got it?"

"Dad go to sleep.", I said firmly.

"I'm fine."

"Friday how long has he been up?", I asked.

"Sixty-eight hours miss." came the immediate reply.

"Go to bed!", I ordered.

"All right." he grumbled. "You're almost like Pepper.", he grumbled inarticulately into his beard on his way out.

I shook my head with a sigh. I looked at Steve, who was bright red again, and grinned. "And was I able to satisfy your curiosity?", I asked jokingly. He just nodded without looking at me and quickly took a sip of his coffee.

"Friday showed me the pictures you drew of me, by the way. They're really good."

He choked on his coffee, a small amount shooting through his nose.

I laughed. "How do you feel about dinner?"

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

When Morty jumped and turned around to confront the person touching him, instead of an unusually touchy-feely crew member, it's Rick he saw, laughing.

"O-oh-ho-ho, th-eugh-the kitten has c-claws," he chuckled, taking a swing out of his signature bottle. "D-didn't w-want to give y-euhh-ou a fright."

"I-i-it's o-okay, you didn't- you didn't scare me," Morty stammered, ignoring the fact that his head was throbbing at the same quick tempo his heart was beating. Self-consciously, Morty reached back, rubbing his hand against the nape of his neck. Rick Sanchez was the only person in the whole universe who could make him feel like this with just the intense stare of his eyes.

"Y-euhhg-ou b-became a man since we s-st-ugh-arted our j-journey, d-d-didn't you, Kitten?" He asked with a strange smile on his face, caressing Morty's stubbled cheek. Morty blushes at both the unexpected, yet very much welcomed touch, and the blotchy stubble he wore that looked more like a bald baby bird than a proper beard.

He only noticed the growing hair a few days ago. Getting lost track of how long they've been in space, he didn't really know how old he was exactly when his beard grew, but it was a greatly expected moment in his life. Still, even if he noticed it, nobody else did, as the hair was so fine and it only grew in patches. But Rick noticed.

Morty told his excited heart to shut up and be quiet.

"I-I-I g-guess so," he chuckled self-consciously, the bright red slowly creeping down on his neck.

"D-d-eugh-o-o you w-want me to t-t-take care of t-that for you?" Rick asked, and even he was standing upright, Morty managed to almost trip over the mop he held in his hands.

"W-w-w-wha-at?" He stammered even harder than usual.

Rick softly caressed a patch of fine hair on his chin, "I-I guess nob-bleugh-ody thought y-you how to s-shave. I can d-do i-it for you."

Morty's inside turned into a warm, gooey mush, dropping his mop as his knees and arms weakened. "I-i- y-you, s-sure?" he blushed, looking up at the bigger man from under his eyelashes.

"G-good. I m-mean, fine, if you w-w-eugh-ant me to," Rick coughed, sending a wink that made Morty's knees even shakier. The young boy wondered if Rick was really that oblivious, or he knew it very much what he was doing with Morty's feelings. "Come then."

As the ship's cook - and scientist, mechanist, and everything in-between -, Rick had the luxury to have his own sleeping quarter. A tiny one, but still better than any of the crew member's. Morty hesitated following the cyborg down his room, not because he was afraid, but because of the possible intimacy of the shaving. He wasn't sure his young, overly excited heart could deal with that.

But he followed Rick. He would follow him anywhere.

"C-come on in, K-itten," Rick chuckled. "W-welcome to my l-lab," he said, opening his arms in a 'this is me' gesture.

It really was a lab. The tiny space was packed full of various chemicals and mechanical parts, everything screaming Rick to him. The smell of him concentrated in the stale air, mixed with the potent smell of alcohol and other substances, overwhelming Morty's senses. He wanted nothing more than wrapping himself around with Rick's smell and presence. Being there was the second best thing.

"W-well, co-eugh-me on, sit," he motioned to the only chair in the room, next to a small table that held a bowl of water, a bar of soap and a crumpled towel. Morty sat.

Swinging a mouthful of the bottle that never seemed to be out of alcohol, Rick held it out as an offering. "W-want some, Kitten," he asked, burping in the middle of the question.

Nodding, Morty accepted with shaking hands, and took a sip. It was strong, stronger than anything he tasted before, but it instantly took the edge of some of his nervousness, so he swallowed another mouthful before giving the bottle back to it's owner.

Rick raised an impressed eyebrow. "H-huh, look at that, K-Kitten c-ough-an hold his own."

Morty could barely stop himself from blurting out, 'I broke into my alcoholic mother's liquor cabinet when I was twelve. She always had lots of alcohol that she was addicted to ever since her father left her when she got pregnant with my sister, and I wanted to know why her drinks made her so drowsy."

"I c-can take a l-l-lot of things," he said insteady unintentionally suggestively.

Rick just shook his head, smirking at the blushing boy. "W-well, let's get started!"

Taking the towel off the table, Rick laid it on Morty's shoulders to cover his chest. Walking behind the sitting boy, Morty could feel himself getting more and more tense, not seeing what he was doing. The big form of Rick Sanchez was towering over his back, his full chest pressing against Morty's back, his warmth sweeping into his bones. Suddenly, the boy couldn't breathe, his inside was like a jelly, quivering and malleable. He wouldn't have mind to experience the feeling of Rick's closeness in other settings too.

He could feel Rick's breath hitting the back of his head at every exhale, and Morty could smell the foul scent of alcohol in it. It told a lot of things about the boy that instead of being repulsed, he wanted to taste it from inside the source.

"Pass-s me those t-things, w-will ya?" Rick asked, raising a finger towards the bar of soap and the bowl of water. Morty leaned forward, then offered them to the older man. "H-o-eugh-ld the water," he instructed, and Morty did. He could hear the splashes of the water as Rick worked the soap between his palms - one flesh, other cybernetic - to coax out the suds.

"I-I'll put the lather o-on your f-burp-ace, then c-clean it away," Rick explained the process.

Morty had only one question. "W-where's th-the r-razor?"

A whirring sound, a click and a swoosh could be heard, and Rick reached around to show the gleaming blade in the stead of his cybernetic hand. A shiver ran through Morty's body, and even he couldn't decide whether that was because he was afraid or turned on.

Well, the latter, definitely, but maybe a bit of the former too.

"L-let's g-get started th-eugh-then, Kitten," Rick said. Morty didn't feel ready for Rick's organic hand to cup the back of his neck, large and heavy and warm, tilting his head the way he wanted, smearing slippery suds all over his face. He was not ready for the gentle touches as Rick coated his face with lather. Morty had to remind himself to keep breathing.

He was even less prepared for the dangerous pressure of Rick's blade as it slid across his cheeks, carving a clean line through the lather. Morty exhaled shakily.

He is shaving me, he thought dazedly.

Rick worked uncharacteristically slow, getle and cautious even if he was more than a little intoxicated. It never even o cured Morty that he could have been in danger. He was too gone on Rick for that, too trusting and dependent.

Before long, Morty had to move to accommodate Rick's reach, now that he was shaving the other side of his face with short, precise strokes. The press of the razor, Rick's gentle hand on his face, the feeling of his chest on his back, being surrounded by Rick's tights, he felt like he was floating. He wanted that moment to never end. Morty wipes his sweaty palms in his pants, hoping Rick wouldn't notice his nerves.

"A-another sip?" Rick asked, and Morty nodded eagerly. Gripping the neck of the bottle, Morty took a gulp for himself to steel his nerves, then passed it to the older man. When Rick burped and handed it back to Morty, the bottle was empty, not a drop of liquid in it. He hoped the closeness affected Rick as much as it affected him.

The last few strokes were finished too soon. Morty could have fallen asleep, using Rick's chest as a pillow, the repetitive motions lulling him, relaxing him, at the same time, exciting him like nothing before. Not even Jessica, the redhead from home, nor any of the beauties he saw before boarding the ship. They were so close to each other like never before, and Morty wanted to savor the feeling of Rick's body pressed firmly against his. The old man's flat stomach, his strong tights, his… he swallowed. Morty's buzzed mind couldn't help but wonder if he could take that big cock that was pressed against his back. Probably not, it felt too big even behind clothes. But he could take him in his mouth, or between his thighs, allowing Rick to use him like his personal toy. Morty knew it would feel good.

He had to bite back the disappointed whine when the old man's hands left his face. As the task was done, way too soon, disappointment flooded his body. He wanted it to last forever, to hold on these new feelings. Without Rick's hand to warm him, he felt cold, cold and alone, even if the room didn't left much space for them to be far away from each other. Yet, as soon as the shaving was finished, it was as if a gate closed between them. Rick on one side, and him on the other.

He wanted to weep.

He could still feel Rick's breathing against his back, his chest pushing against him, the slightest pressure of his hand on his shoulder. Yet he never felt farther away from Morty.

At once, the weird tension disappeared as Rick slapped his hands together, his cybernetic one once again razorless. "T-these you g-go. S-smooth, l-like a ba-aaaaugh-by's butt." Morty wasn't sure if he just imagined the strain in Rick's voice or not.

"T-t-thank you," he whispered, not confident enough to be able to talk in his normal voice. He smoothed a hand on his cheek, imagining he could still feel Rick's much bigger hand on it, feeling the old man's precise work.

Rick did that.

Rick shaved him.

Rick caressed him.

Morty felt dizzy. It must have been the alcohol, as was the weakness in his legs when he tried to get up. He must have been more intoxicated than he thought.

(Intoxicated on Rick, his mind traitorously added.)

"T-th-thanks," he repeated. His legs were unsteady under him, but they were just doing fine, as he realized he was already in front of the door, unconsciously trying to escape from the overwhelming emotions.

He hesitated for a moment, a beat of anxious, uncomfortable silence. Then he pushed the door open, bolting out like his life depended on it.

The sudden burst of energy was gone by the time he closed the door behind him. Needing a moment for himself, he leaned against the door, trying to keep his heart from exploding, and regulating his breathing, he heard it.

A deep groan, muffled, but distinguishable, then a mumbled, "Y-euhhg-ou are too o-old for this shit. H-huh co-ough-ld be your g-grandson, for f-fuck's sake."

Warmth flooded his body. He wasn't the only one having feelings for the other, after all.

[tran5rightsos]

The Sun is Burning Down - Chapter One

Word Count: 1234

Leave Kudos?

“Smoke?” a demon, Igthuud, offered Luke as it pulled out cigarettes for itself and the others.

Luke shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Square,” Calum, the only other human in the group, commented as he accepted one and let Igthuud light it for him.

“They cause cancer,” Luke defended.

“Bullshit.”

“They do. How can you not know that?”

“I swear to Satan you guys talk about this every time you come here for smoko,” Akoth growled irritably as it lit its own cigarette, “Go somewhere else if you’re gonna complain.”

“Even when he makes shit up about smokes, Luke’s less of a drag than you are,” Calum told it, “Maybe you need new smoking buddies.”

“You’re the outsider here, human,” Akoth hissed.

Calum blew a cloud into the cold air. “Bite me.”

Akoth leered and stretched its neck to get in Calum’s face. “Yurkollok won’t protect you forever.”

Calum eyed it for a moment before amicably patting its face. “Don’t be such a square, bro. We’re cool.”

Akoth retracted with a hiss, taking another drag from its cigarette.

“You guys with Yurkollok?” a strangely familiar voice inquired.

Luke looked at the newcomer approaching them, a well-dressed human with slicked back black hair and just enough scruff to call it a beard. Someone gave an affirmation, but Luke couldn’t tear his eyes away from the human as he returned his gaze, recognition and shock washing over his handsome features. Even if Luke couldn’t quite place him, the human definitely seemed to know him, lips parting as he stared back at Luke.

“What do you want?” Akoth demanded.

The human looked at it. “I’m here with a contract.”

Akoth stamped its cigarette out on the pavement and went to the door. “Follow me.”

The human gave Luke one last, long look before stepping into the restaurant after Akoth, the door swinging shut behind them.

“Has he been here before?” Luke asked. "That human?"

Igthuud belched. “Never seen him around before. Maybe he’s a new courier.”

Calum put his cigarette out on the wall. “We should get back to work.”

Luke couldn’t take his mind off the human as he left Calum and the others to it and made his way back to the street he was on for today. A damned soul nervously handed him his gloves as he stepped into the trolley with it and started turning the crank to lift them into the air.

The damned soul curled up in the corner and wailed as they rose, just as it did every shift. As if being worked to the bone every day for eternity wasn’t enough, it had been given a job that forced it to face its terror of heights as well.

“Pass me that?” Luke asked when they were almost at the top of the building, pointing to the mop beside the soul.

Whimpering, it handed it to him and shakily got to its feet. As they cleaned the windows of the building, Luke wondered about the damned souls inside, wondered what they did all day to pay for the sins they’d committed in life. As far as he could see, they were just working at desks, the torture not as apparent as it was for the soul cleaning with him.

By the end of their shift, Luke had come to no solid conclusion, though he did feel like he’d wondered about it countless times before with the same result.

Ernon, Luke’s supervisor, handed him his meal tokens as the damned soul trembled beside him. Luke didn’t know what damned souls ate, if they ate anything at all, or even if they got paid for their work. Maybe that was part of their torture. Endless work for nothing.

Luke shared his apartment with Calum and Michael, another human. As the approaching sun lit up the sky, Luke caught Michael making his way home too.

“How was work?” Luke asked.

“Work…” Michael stared at him for a moment before seeming to realise what he was talking about. “Yeah, it was fine.”

“You okay?”

“Zoned out, I guess.”

Luke nodded as he unlocked the door. “I know what you mean.”

“You ever wonder why we’re doing this?” Michael asked suddenly.

“Doing what?”

Michael gestured vaguely. “Working. Living here.”

Luke frowned and waited for him to explain what he meant.

“I just…I feel like there was a reason, but it’s been so long that I forgot what it was. How long have we been here?”

Luke opened his mouth to say they’d always been here, but shut it when he thought for a moment. Had they always been here? Just like when he saw the human earlier, Luke was struck by the feeling that there was something he’d forgotten right on the edge of his thoughts.

“Have we had this conversation before?” Michael asked, looking like he was pleading for an answer a different question, a question that Luke felt like he was asking too, even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Before Luke could reply, they heard a key in the lock and turned to see Calum walking in with two bags of leftover food from the restaurant.

“What’s up?” Calum asked, not really looking at either of them as he went to the coffee table to set the bags down.

Luke and Michael joined him and they split the food between them, finding comfort in the routine.

“That human’s looking for you,” Calum told Luke, “Ashton. The courier.”

“Ashton?” Like everything else about the man, something about his name felt achingly familiar and it seemed like the answer to the question of his identity was just behind a thin curtain Luke couldn’t quite reach to open. “What does he want?”

Calum shrugged. “He found me after him and Yurkollok were done and asked about you.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Told him you don’t work there and I didn’t know where he could find you.”

Luke frowned. “You could’ve told him to wait here for me, or something.”

“C’mon, I’m not gonna tell a stranger where you sleep.”

Luke huffed. The fact that the stranger was apparently looking for him only made him more curious about him. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out where he knew him from, but it felt like the answer was right on the tip of his tongue, like there was a single string he could pull to make it all unravel, if only he could figure out what it was.

[the-angriestpineapple]

brewed & beards - ch 4

Kiri goes to his first wrestling practice and meets his teammates! But then he is faced with a hard situation. 

Chapter 4 - Wrestling Practice

Kirishima had gone home after his first shift at the gym with a heavy heart. He had to get over this crush. He knew he could, he’d had plenty of unrequited crushes before. Back when he thought he liked girls he had thought he was in love with Mina. She’d known before he did what he really felt. He did love her, but not romantically. Honestly Mina was one of the reasons why he was so comfortable with who he was now – her unwavering confidence in him had changed him from an awkward and shy caterpillar into the bright butterfly he was today.

He opened his dorm room door, thinking about who he used to be and how far he has come but how far he still has to go.

“SURPRISE!”

A chorus of yelling startled him out of his own head as Mina threw herself on him. He barely caught her without them both falling back over into the hallway. “Welcome back from your first day at work, Mr. Personal Trainer!” She smooched his cheek and threw herself back off of him. Denki and Hanta were also standing there, Denki holding a small cake with an unlit candle.

“Sorry man, we’d light the candle but the fire alarm would go off.” Hanta pointed to their ceiling where the small, round alarm blinked silently.

Kirishima stared at the cake and his friends’ smiling faces, absolutely touched. “Guys… you’re all so wonderful!” He sniffled and gathered all three of them into a tight hug, Denki protesting as he almost dropped the cake. “You’re the best friends a bro could ever ask for!”

Mina giggled and squirmed until Kiri let them all go. “We also picked up some takeout boxes for dinner so you don’t have to cook tonight! Now tell us ALL about your first day.”

Bakugou flashed through Kiri’s mind for a split second but he turned a beaming smile on for his friends. “It went great! I made a new friend and everything! I think I’m really gonna like it there.”

Hanta was pulling takeout bento boxes from a plastic bag. “That’s great dude! Denki and I got those jobs we applied for too, so… we’re all employed!”A cheer went up from the friends. Denki carefully put the cake on his bed and the four sat crosslegged on the floor, Hanta passing out the boxes.

“Thanks you guys, this is amazing.” They laughed and joked over dinner and cake, and his heart felt a little lighter. Kirishima fell asleep with a smile on his face.

---

“Hey! Kirishima! Great to see you man!”

Kiri looked up at the hulking blonde mountain approaching him. Togata Mirio, the captain of the wrestling team. Kiri was at the school’s gym for the first official wrestling practice. He’d talked to Mirio a few times since they’d moved in almost two weeks ago but practice didn’t start until today. He hadn’t even met anyone else on the team yet.

“Hey man, you too. What are we doing today?” Kiri clenched his hands into fists and grinned fiercely. “I’m pumped to meet the team and get started!”

Mirio laughed and dropped an easy arm over Kirishima’s shoulders. “Sure, sure, that’s absolutely what we’re doing today! There’s a couple of guys already here, I’ll introduce you to them.” Mirio’s arm slung across his shoulders enabled the huge blonde to maneuver him through the gym to the wrestling mat where a few guys were stretching. He first approached a lean boy with half white and half red hair who had a scar on the left side of his face. “This is Todoroki Shoto, he’s in the weight class under yours. Todoroki, this is Kirishima Eijirou.”

The boy, Todoroki, rose and gave a graceful bow. “It is wonderful to meet you. I’m looking forward to being on a team with you this academic year.”

Kirishima blinked and smiled. “Yeah, you too man!” He’s so polite and proper. And I bet that scar has a wicked story. I won't ask until we're bros though. Kiri almost reached up to finger the scar on his right eye but realized that would give away the fact that he was staring at the other boy's.

Mirio chuckled and pulled Kirishima in another direction. “We’ll talk about what you’re gonna work on in a minute Todoroki, I wanna introduce Kirishima to the other guys.” Todoroki nodded and returned to his warm up as Mirio directed him to a boy with grey hair. “And this guy is in your weight class, so you’ll be fighting him a lot. This is Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu.” Mirio laughed. “Quite a mouthful!”

Tetsu jumped up from his lunge stance and roared. Kirishima immediately grinned, he could feel this guy’s passion right away. It matched his own. Where Todoroki had been quiet and polite, Tetsu immediately threw out his hand. Kirishima slapped his own into it with no hesitation.

“Great to have another mid weight around here! I’ve heard great things about you! I expect our fights are gonna be EPIC!” Tetsu was practically yelling, but it was just amping Kiri up.

“Hell yeah man! They’re gonna be so epic! So manly!” Their grips hardened on each others’ hands until Mirio laughed and stepped in, pulling them apart.

“Alright guys, save it for the mat.” Kirishima was introduced to another couple of guys that were in Todoroki’s weight class and one that was in Mirio’s weight class.

“Hm, there’s a few guys who haven’t gotten here yet. We’ll start soon though-”

The doors to the gym slammed open and chatter ceased. Kirishima and the rest of the team immediately turned to the door and – Kirishima inwardly groaned – a familiar scowling blonde stalked in.

“Ah, Bakugou! The one that got away!” Mirio’s voice broke the silence and people started to talk amongst themselves again. Kirishima saw Bakugou’s eyes narrowed at Mirio as he kept heading over to a punching bag. “I tried to get him to join the wrestling team, but he refused. More’s the pity, he could have been a great addition to your weight class.” Mirio slapped Kiri on his back, almost knocking him over. Bakugou still ignored Mirio. Kirishima wasn’t even sure if Bakugou could hear him. “It’s fine now though, we got you Kirishima! Our new wonder boy. I bet Bakugou couldn’t even beat you if he tried.”

Kiri learned quite quickly that Bakugou could indeed hear Mirio, because he dropped his gym bag and whirled to face them. “The fuck did you just say, beady-eyes?”

Mirio laughed good-naturedly. Kirishima wished that the floor would swallow him up as Mirio’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder again. It was like getting slapped with a ham. “I said that you probably couldn’t beat Kirishima if you tried! We’re really lucky to have him.”

Bakugou actually snarled and stomped over to them. “Fuck that! Of course I can take him! Get ready shitty hair, I’m gonna wipe the floor with your stupid mop head.” He stomped past them to the wrestling mat, snapping into a starting stance. “Don’t keep me fucking waiting, let’s go you fucking coward!”

Oh no. Oh no no no. This was bad. He couldn’t wrestle Bakugou, that was a terrible idea. But Mirio was laughing and shoving him toward the mat, talking about how this is a great chance to prove himself.

Next thing he knew he was in his own starting stance opposite Bakugou, who was gnashing his teeth and growling. Kirishima felt a shiver of fear roll down his spine. Mirio blew a short burst on a whistle, signaling the start. Kirishima and Bakugou started to move, circling each other. Kirishima was normally super confident in the ring but Bakugou was… terrifying. The scowling and swearing was one thing but this was pure unadulterated violence.

“Stop fucking dancing with me and make a move,” Bakugou snarled out. Kirishima frowned and shifted in to try and cut Bakugou down at the legs. Bakugou hopped back and to the side, moving to take down Kiri himself. Kirishima was distracted and let out an ‘oof’ as Bakugou slammed into his side. He recovered quickly though and bucked up to prevent the blonde from pinning him.

“C’mon shitty hair, if you’re such a fucking golden boy you gotta do better than that.” Arrogance was starting to bleed into his words instead of just pure anger. Bakugou was mocking him.

Kirishima growled himself and pushed as hard as he could while yanking Bakugou’s arm. He flipped them, slamming Bakugou’s back into the mat. The blonde laughed and shoved a hand into Kiri’s shoulder to try and break his grasp but Kiri just held on to Bakugou’s waist tighter. The flipped around a little more, Bakugou grinning like a maniac and Kiri trying to not think about who exactly it was that he was trying to pin.

Then suddenly there was a thigh ground up in between his legs and a harsh breath in his ear, and Kirishima shut down. His moment of frozen shock earned him his back slamming into the mat. He was barely able to struggle back as Mirio counted the pin.

He laid there, breathing hard, and Bakugou jumped up with a barking laugh. “Golden boy, my ass. Thanks for the workout.” He strut past the rest of the wrestling team to his abandoned gym bag, hefting it onto his shoulder.

“Bakugou, there’s still a spot if you want to join the team-”

“Tch. Fuck off, Togata.” The blonde stared at Kiri who was still on the floor, a slow smirk pulling at his lips, before he turned and strolled casually out of the gym.

“Don’t take it too hard man, he’s wrecked me too. He’s just crazy.” Kirishima accepted Tetsu’s hand and the grey haired boy pulled him off the mats. “You good?”

“Yeah man, I’m good. He’s just kind of, I don’t know, scary?” Kiri rubbed the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. Yeah, he’d go with scary.

Mirio gave a bright laugh. “Yeah, he can be pretty scary. It might be good that he refuses to join the team, people wouldn’t want to compete against us.” He clapped his hands together to get the attention of the wrestling team. “Alright boys, pair off into your weight classes and practice some takedowns!”

Kiri shook himself a little and turned to face Tetsu with a grin. “Alright man, you ready to do this?”

Tetsu grinned back at him. “Yeah man, let’s do it!”

[itsbenedict]

Kingdoms and Koopas: Ep. 5

K&K is a Fate Accelerated campaign set in the Mario universe, which I’m running for three players:

Bee @thebeeskneesocks​, playing Kandace Koopa

Jovian @jovian12​, playing Cozmo Naut

Malky @sleepdepravity​, playing Dr. Chevy Chain

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Previously on Kingdoms and Koopas, the party made a... friend? A Friend? A friend with ice powers who wants them to do some chores for her, in exchange for her help opening a door that has a magic artifact behind it? Yes, that. It goes great, and nothing horrifying happens.

(Figure 1: I lied.)

So, to get through the door to the Music Key, Jojora wants the party to complete four of six tasks, to prove what good friends they are:

Fix the fire spirit guardians, who are sick

Repair and re-mount the giant stone wheel that’s fallen to the ground

Clear a cooled lava flow off a puzzle floor

Clean a pair of fire-stoking bellows from the cake caked on them

Free up the lava flow column from the ceiling

Clean out the secret tunnel full of magical artifacts

Chevy already did the first thing, and... like, c’mon, of course they’re going to clean out the secret tunnel full of magical artifacts first!

They check it out- it’s a secret door in the wall just outside the main entrance- and find this upward-sloping tunnel, encrusted completely in dark-glowy purple crystals. (Jojora needs a path cleaned past those things, they make the floor all spiky and inconvenient.) There’s miscellaneous junk sticking out of that crystal, but Chevy decides to just get straight to work: using her considerable bulk to just crush some of the crystals out of the way.

It becomes clear, as Chevy cracks the first few crystals, that the crystals are made of magic. They explode a little when cracked. She backs off a bit, as Kandace rolls good to analyze the situation.

See, there’s a sort of spectrum of magic. There’s young magic, produced by young living beings such as Kandace, which is fairly weak and all things considered fairly easy to control, as magic goes. Most magic starts out as young magic- safe and stable.

But as magic gets older, it becomes elder magic. Elder magic is much less stable, and correspondingly more powerful and harder to control. It’s usually bad news, unless you’re an extremely talented and experienced magic-user like Kammy Koopa. And this cave... the walls are coated in elder magic, which has been somehow locked in crystal form and left to increase in age and power.

Kandace, ever the voice of careful deliberation, magically transforms her hands into pickaxes and just goes to town on that stuff. She wants her a chunk of elder magic! And, uh... well, breaking the crystal forces you to roll 1d20 on a random table of my design. The effect of her doing this is... she gets the aspect Elder Magic Artifact, which is to say a long, flowing, white beard. It makes her magic a little bit more Elder, at least until she shaves it off.

Not deterred by this, it’s Cozmo’s turn. Cozmo takes note of six magic items that are loose enough in the crystal to pull out without risking a roll: a cool glittery red scarf, a big glass jar full of sticky stuff, a fire extinguisher, a pair of boots, a feather duster, and a jackhammer. Cozmo of course grabs the cool glittery red scarf, and then also grabs the jackhammer.

The Jackhammer Bro, as he is called, beckons Cozmo to use him to jackhammer some stuff. He does- and this deals one box of stress, because whoops, the Jackhammer Bro drains your lifeforce to use. “Just a little lifeforce, bro! C’mon, let’s keep going!”

That use of the jackhammer breaks some crystal, by the way, and this releases a pair of Shadow Wisps- dark magic given firey form. Chevy tries to eat one, and this goes about as well as you might expect eating evil fire to go: badly. Cozmo tosses Kandace the Jackhammer Bro for her turn.

Kandace goes for it, charging one of the wisps and doing enough crystal damage to force two rolls: one causes the wisp to explode into three Shadow Swoopers, and the other gives her the aspect Dry Curse: she’s temporarily bones!

Chevy would like nothing to do with this, thank you, and tries to just... leave. Jojora, though, doesn’t look kindly on a friend trying to abandon friends, and casts an ice spell to slow her down. Some of the Swoopers catch up and start harassing her, and Cozmo tries shooting off some fireworks to get rid of them.

Kandace, trying to dodge a bat attack, tries a cool move where she jumps up and pickaxe-hands into the ceiling to stick there and dodge- and while she accomplishes the first, she doesn’t accomplish the second part, “dodge”- which causes her to lose her grip and fall onto (and break) some more crystal. It’s a lucky roll, though: she gets the aspect Super Mushroom, which makes her become very large indeed. She then goes on a jackhammer rampage, clutching it in her feet and walking around on her skeleton pickaxe hands.

The bats- one of which accidentally hits some crystal and suffers the random effect Poison Mushroom, getting shrunk- are eventually mopped up- but there’s still a lot of cleaning to do. Chevy suggests that Jojora actually, y’know, help, which... that sounds like a great idea to her! She “helps” by rolling a giant ice boulder up the tunnel a bunch, which indeed crushes a bunch of crystal.

There are two side-effects of this.

One side-effect is that a shadow figure emerges from some crushed crystal, declares "Eeeeeeheehee! I am free! FREEEEE, after eight thousand years! This world is MINE!" and then vanishes.

The other side-effect is that the giant ball of ice- now glowing, from all the magic- rolls back down the slope towards everyone. Whoops.

But listen, it’s fine. Everyone is able to run for their life enough to not get hurt, except Kandace who has trouble walking upside down on pickaxe hands, so she’s a little slow and gets hit- dispelling the Super Mushroom effect, as is standard for powerups.

Following that, the party heads back inside to deal with more chores! For instance, the bellows, caked with cake. Kandace tries using the Buster Duster, the magic feather duster from the tunnel. After using it a little, it starts using itself, and they have to scramble to catch and/or clean up all the cake it starts flinging everywhere. 

(The cake must be disposed of somehow, and Chevy refuses to use her gigantic mouth to help eat it all. They have Jojora conjure some ice wastebaskets, instead.)

The next task they try to tackle is the lava blockage in the ceiling. There’s supposed to be a lava flow, but Jojora froze it shut by accident, so that rock plug needs shattering. Cozmo tries firing a firework up from the ground floor, but unfortunately his aim is off and he blows up a chunk of stonework, which falls on his head. Kandace helps carry him up closer to the ceiling, so he has a better and less perilous shot.

Now that they’ve accomplished all four tasks, Jojora is extremely grateful! She gives Cozmo a big hug, and then tries to give Kandace a big hug, but she dodges out of the way. Chevy is all the way downstairs, and Jojora doesn’t want to hug her because she’s been a huge sourpuss and a bad friend- and that changes Kandace’s mind. If getting hugged would mean demonstrating superiority to Chevy, she’s gonna do the best hug.

(she kind of fucks it up actually, but it’s fine.)

So, okay, a deal’s a deal, and Jojora opens the huge temple door. Behind which is... a surprisingly small room, actually. Sort of a storage room, with lots of shelves and boxes. And on those shelves, and in those boxes, is... a ton of merchandise. Specifically, Mario Brothers merchandise, which is incredibly illegal in the Koopa Kingdom.

Also the Music Key is there.

They ask Jojora whose stuff this is, and she says her friend asked her not to tell. But maybe, if they do more chores, they’ll be good enough friends for her to share the secret...?

Chevy, being a total narc, asks Jojora if she can use her phone to call 911- y’know, for an ambulance for Cozmo and his many severe wounds, not to call the cops on this contraband. Except Jojora doesn’t let Chevy use the phone, she just handles it herself and calls an ambulance- which is very nonplussed by the directions given to the secret underground temple past the most dangerous place in town. It’ll be a while before that shows up.

And then... someone shows up. It’s Cozmo’s boss, Shady Guy!

Shady Guy, Jojora’s friend, asks that they hand over the Music Key, which is his. Is all that other stuff his? Well... no, shut up. Shut up, you’re wrong. Also, this fake mustache I’m wearing definitely isn’t Luigi-brand. Stop saying lies.

After being accused of a ton of crimes suddenly, Shady Guy is not happy- and neither is Cozmo, who doesn’t know what to believe. He flees, and Chevy also doesn’t care enough to stick around. Kandace, with the Music Key, tries to fight him off and run- more or less successfully! Except... now they’re being chased.

Shady Guy grabs the Jackhammer Bro, plus the magic boots, and is pursuing them with a vengeance- after all, they’re stealing his property! That he rightfully found, flying through the air! Who’s the real criminal, here?

In the course of his pursuit, Shady Guy actually ends up hitting a lot of the same curses as Kandace, and ends up Super Mushroomed and Dry Cursed, which is very scary. He’s briefly slowed down by a Ramblin’ Evil Mushroom effect, forcing him to grapple with reversed controls, but he’s gaining. 

And he tells Cozmo to give him the orb, and he’ll get a promotion! And the implicit threat of what will happen to his job if he doesn’t hand over the orb...

Cozmo makes a decision.

Cozmo throws his collapsed collapsible bicycle at Shady Guy, knocking off his mask. It’s a good thing it’s very dark in this tunnel, or they’d be seeing things no one was meant to see. Also, they would see Cozmo crying, because this is kind of the worst day of his life.

But hey, don’t worry! Kandace blows up some more crystal and causes the tunnel to cave in around Shady Guy, burying him alive! Kandace can be Cozmo’s new boss! And she won’t fire him, probably! Yaaaaay!

Kandace heads back to Kammy Koopa’s Academy for Young Witches and Wizards, and hands over the orb. She manages to get Kammy to clarify the terms- Kandace can get two magic artifacts if all the orbs are returned, and maybe two more if she’s the one to find them all (and not anyone else Kammy’s sent to retrieve them).

Afterwards... Kandace uses her magical magic senses to try and sense the remaining Music Keys. Unfortunately, one seems to evade magical detection (and so is probably somewhere so dense with other magic that it blends in), and the other... is in the sky. The sky, far far above the Magic Kingdom.

Now, uh... during all this, Party Guy- Shady Guy’s second-in-command- has been upstairs in Jojora’s tearoom, hanging out with Oholina, Teeheena, Hoohoolia, and Chucklissa. And since they kind of collapsed the tunnel which was the only non-deadly way out... well, Goomfried talks him into forming a rescue party with the rest of the SGTA staff. 

Meanwhile, Chevy is interested in making sure justice is properly served in this dystopia ruled by a tyrannical dictator. She leads the cops I mean Koopatrol to the secret tunnel, and digs out Shady Guy, who is promptly arrested for doing so many crimes, probably. Unfortunately, when they finish clearing the tunnel and head down to pick up Party Guy and Zip Toad, they find Joke’s Other End totally abandoned!

And meanwhile meanwhile, Cozmo’s rescue party comes across Jojora, who is helpfully escorting her party guests home. And soon... it’ll be time to start shooting for Zip Toad’s latest action-packed thriller! Coming soon to a theater near you!

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[thefauxfox-blog]

A Catastrophe

(Alternate title- Purr-plexed. Alternate title 2- Meow What? Alternate title 3- Pawzzling. Alter-someone stop me)

Summary: Fluffy (literally) Sanders Sides fic where the Sides suddenly have a kitten and nothing makes sense anymore. but who cares, have you seen that kitten? cute. so so cute.

At this point, they'd all heard Patten scream enough that they didn't tend to hustle to his side anymore. Spiders, hot coffee spill, jelly staining his polo, existential crisis, someone using foul language, an especially cute birb video- they just didn't drop what they were doing and show up.

So when Logan heard Patten shriek, he finished his chapter, placed his bookmark, set the book down, and then made his way to the mind palace commons. He gathered a roll of paper towels on the way- useful for both killing spiders and mopping up stains.

When he arrived, he stopped dead.

Oh.

He opened his mouth. Then he closed it. Then he opened it again, and paused.

He… he was at a loss. Well. That was new. He'd never experienced this severity of perplexity before. The situation wasn't merely improbable, it was impossible. He would’ve briefly wondered if he was dreaming- but he didn’t really do that, Roma was the dreamer. But then how…?

“That is sooooooo cute!!! What's their name?” Patten was cooing, crouched over where Virgil and the…. other thing… was.

“I was thinking Ursula. Cause she's mostly black. And she's a total baddie,” Virgil said. “It's a girl.”

“Ursula?” Patten repeated,wrinkling his nose. “Isn't that an evil squid woman? Son, you are just such a dark villainous soul, and it’s frightening yet charming. Ursula it is!”

“Octopus, not squid,” Virgil corrected absentmindedly. He was staring down at the tiny thing.

Data. Logan needed more data. He approached cautiously, observing. Mostly black with brown tortoiseshell pattern. Calico, female. Short haired. Polydactyl front paws. Probably 9-10 weeks old. Comfortable with Virgil as demonstrated by the tucked in position, eyes closed, purring loudly.

“Great Odin’s beard, is that a kitten?!?!” Roman had finally joined them, and was dramatically pointing, arm fully outstretched at the thing.

“Yeah. It's a kitten. Her name is Ursula,” Virgil said protectively, petting the small creature.

“Virgil,” Logan finally managed. The anxiety avatar hummed to indicate his attentiveness, so Logan continued. “Virgil. Where- why- how do you have a cat?!?!”

“I dunno. I just woke up and she was curled up on my bed with me,” he said carelessly. “Jealous?”

“Technically, it would be envy, not jealousy, as envy is to covet while jealously is to hoard- and no, I am not either jealous nor envious. I am… Virgil, this can't happen.”

“I'll take care of her, don't be such a party pooper,” Virgil scoffed. “I'm the embodiment of worry and over thinking and stress, as if I’m ever going to neglect her. I’m like, the ideal cat owner.”

“Ohmigod. So you're a cat mom now! Except- you’re male, so cat dad? Is that a thing? We both are dads! High five, kiddo! So I get to be the cat granddad?” Patten said excitedly.

“No, I'm not your kid, and the cat isn't my kid either. She’s not my baby. We’re bros.”

“I can't believe you named her Ursula. Don't you think she looks more like an Aurora, or Tiana?” Roman grumbled, approaching to better appreciate the kitten.

“No, she's totally going to be a mischief cat, not some princess.”

“Like- there's this adorable cat I follow on instagram, his name is Oreo, and he steals bread, like, all the time. And it's so cute and naughty, the owners are like making a sandwich and they turn around and he's in the bread bag and has a slice-”

“Ursula is going to disrupt everyone's sleep and steal their socks and act cute but just be luring you in, and bite you, because she’s ferocious and terrifying and the coolest cat ever-”

“Or what about Mulan? I think she looks like a Mulan. She's not a water creature or a witch, and I've become well versed in both identifying and killing witches, I have been known far and wide for my prowess-”

“-but Oreo is running off with a whole piece of bread, half dragging, and they get to chase him, and-”

“She's my cat, so I'm naming her and she's going to take after me-”

“If she does turn out to be a witch, I will be forced into the terrible dilemma of killing evil but also killing cuteness-”

“HOW IS THERE A CAT?!?!”

Everyone went quiet at Logan’s exclamation. They all looked surprised.

“Whoa.”

“Loud much?”

“Rude.”

“You okay, son? That was just a liiiittle aggressive.”

“This doesn't make any sense. We are all- this can't just wander in here! We're not in reality, we're in Thomas’s head! He can manipulate our environment and we can manipulate the forms we present with, but to introduce a new creature that is a) not human, b) not an aspect of his personality, and c) not consciously created, is simply not possible. I do not understand and that is not okay,” Logan said, starting to get a little breathless and alarmed at the end.

“Look, I don't know how she got here. But here she is. I have a cat now. That's a thing, you can see and feel her, she's really here,” Virgil said. “That's reality. I don't know anything about cause, history, any of that, but I know present and I can give a pretty good guess at future stuff. History is your department. So if you wanna try and figure it out, sure, but I'm happy with her.”

“This doesn’t- this doesn't make any sense!”

“But it's happened.”

“No, no, no, no,” he said, pointing at each of them to emphasize. “We are figments of Thomas’s personality, and this is a created reality of consciousness, but we still have rules!”

“We also have a cat now,” Patten said delightedly.

“My cat,” Virgil grumbled.

“Let her be the judge of who’s cat she is, and may the best side win,” Roman said impetuously.

“Doesn’t this bother you? Does this bother any of you? This. Is. Not. Possible. We can’t just magically appear a cat!”

They ignored him in favor of coddling and cooing at the kitten. He let out an irate breath and sank out.

“Thomas,” he said, dropping in on him. Thomas yelped and smacked his keyboard.

“Oh! Jeez, you spooked me. What's up, Logan?” Thomas said, frowning at his screen and backspacing all the keyboard smash he'd accidentally put in.

“Virgil has a cat.”

Thomas looked unreasonably unbothered. Why was nobody else perturbed?

“That sounds pretty cool. Can you guys like… dream up cat food? Where does your garbage go? Am I going to be dealing with imaginary cat poop-,”

“No, those are all the wrong questions. Because Virgil can't have a cat. Because you are not a cat, and you don't have a cat side of your personality-,”

“I dunno, I like having my head scratched, and I've bit people before. It's certainly not a manifestation of any gracefullnes, though-”

“Can we please be serious for a minute!?!?”

“I'm not putting a tie on.”

“Oh, for- mmmmmm. Mmmm-mmmm. Okay. I need you to try and-” he pulled his flash cards out of his pocket and flipped through them for a moment before selecting something he hoped would convey the preponderance of the situation. “Be ‘hella legit’ for a moment.”

Thomas blinked at him.

“Was- was that not good? I thought if I combined two, it would have a multiplier effect on the level of colloquialism usage. No?”

“...no.”

“Okay. Alright. I’ll just take note of that. Won’t happen again. I am a work in progress,” Logan said quickly, scribbling himself a note on the back of the cards.

“Good. Okay. But- I’ll be… serious… for a minute. Why is it important that Virgil has a cat?”

“Because this is breaking the basic rules of our existence. I know that your reality has rules, of course- gravity, conservation of mass and energy, particle resistance and friction, colloid rules, etcetera, etcetera. Your world exists in a framework of parameters that simply cannot be crossed. Our reality is the same- though there are some different rules, because we are apparitions of personality traits and exist to your consciousness, on a different plane of perceived reality than ���reality’, for lack of better terminology. Now, our mind palace can have temporary sprites- I believe they’re similar to a video game NPC- that are usually created by Roman, as he is creativity, but they’re not properly real. And our inanimate environment is subject to change at will as well, it doesn’t have to stay the same, as your reality does. And we can change our own appearances at will. But this- a real, live, sentient creature? It can’t have come from anywhere, it can’t exist, it can’t- it’s impossible.”

“But it has to be possible. Because it’s there.”

“It- well, we should say ‘she’, it’s a female calico kitten that Virgil deigned to name ‘Ursula’, to Roman’s horror- it is there. I cannot deny that. But I also cannot deny the rules of our reality. I have two directly opposing true statements that cannot exist simultaneously, but they do. The cat cannot exist. But the cat does exist.”

“This is like that Schrodinger thing, a little. But way cooler, because there’s no death.”

“The only similarity is the species of the subject, Thomas, this isn’t an existential paradox of the same manner as that. Try and keep up,” Logan said impatiently. “What could’ve created this cat?”

“I dunno.”

“Perhaps we need a new angle.”

“Wait- you said right when you showed up- ‘those are the wrong questions’. We need to trace it back to the start. So instead of asking what created this cat, what can we ask and answer? Something that exists now, or will exist eventually.”

“Why was this cat created? Perfect, Thomas, that’s exactly where I need to start. If I can divulge the motive, perhaps I can better understand the origins. What are cats good for?”

��Memes,” Thomas said without hesitation, confidently.

“Great. No. I mean- yes, but why would a cat be good for your mind?”

“Uh… cats are… pets? And they’re something you need to be responsible for.”

“Why would your mind need additional responsibility?”

“Becoming an adult?” Thomas suggested with a shrug.

“No, no… I don’t think that’s it. I don’t think a cat would exist to create more responsibility. I suspect that the existence of the kitten isn’t to create something, but to modify. Within minutes of us discovering it, our entire relationship dynamics changed. Our usual patterns were broken and we all- or, the others did- began to focus on the cat. Why?”

“Diversion,” Thomas said excitedly.

“Diversion! Of course! The cat is distracting us from something.”

“Cats are also comforting. Usually. People go to cats when they’re sad or lonely. The stereotype of the lonely single person with a cat exists for a reason- it doesn’t represent every case, but it does represent some. Cats aren’t useful like dogs are, they’re just cozy and soft.”

“Do you require additional comfort?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t. Wait- the kitten… she appeared to Virgil?”

Logan could feel the realization starting to form, like a half forgotten song or a sense of a coming rainstorm. It was just there, just…

“Virgil got a cat. A comfort creature that is distracting and creates additional responsibility.” He rubbed his chin, thinking, alternately chasing the idea and trying to just let it come on it’s own. “Comfort, responsibility, distraction… Oh. OH! Oh, we’re- I’m an idiot, it was right in front of me, we both knew- it’s all for him. It’s all for him! Your anxiety!”

“What?”

“Thomas. You’ve been working harder with your friends to understand and manage your anxiety, through diet change, meditation, cognitive behavioral changes, and self-monitoring. You created the cat- the cat is your efforts to placate your anxiety without putting him off completely!”

“I’m not following. I made the cat?”

“You made the cat, yes! Look- people can often get a doctor’s note for a landlord or a college room assistant if they have mental health issues and need a cat. Because cats create responsibility- a person is much less likely to commit suicide if they have a cat, because they know that if they’re gone, nobody will care for the cat. Just that small responsibility is frequently enough to help people push forwards and keep living. Cats are also distracting- stressors like work, classes, homework, socialization, home maintenance, etcetera are all lessened when you have a cat. People tend to spend less time thinking about their problems and worrying, replacing those negative thoughts with thoughts about their cat. And cats are comforting, for when someone is upset or anxious.”

Thomas’s mouth had opened slightly. “Whoa. Whoa. Okay, so… so you’re saying that my anxiety management techniques manifested in the mind palace as a cat?”

“Precisely! Now, this doesn’t get rid of your anxiety, but it keeps him from bothering you. He might be distracted by the cat, or caught up in his cat-caretaking responsibilities, or be too comfortable and at ease to bother you.”

“That’s… that’s actually super cool,” Thomas said, starting to giggle.

“Your subconscious did it, obviously, or else we all would’ve known. Your subconscious recognized your attempts to placate your anxiety, and drew upon the information that cats can help with mental health, and manifested that as a cat. Fascinating. You make some very odd leaps of logic, Thomas.”

“Well, you’re me, and you’re my logic, so that’s on you,” Thomas laughed. He suddenly gasped. “Can I- can I see this kitten? Can you guys bring her out with you?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t have any precedents to draw upon. Give it a try.”

“Virgil! Ursula!” Thomas called. Then he gasped delightedly. “Ohmigod. That. Is. So. Cute.”

“It worked,” Logan concluded as Virgil looked around, holding the tiny black and brown kitten protectively.

“Oh hey. Figure out the mystery yet?” Virgil said. He nodded at Thomas. “Check it. I got a kitten. Sick, right?”

“Is the cat sick already-?!?”

“Stop. Taking. Me. So. Literally,” Virgil said with a groan. “Dude. Seriously-”

“He’s wearing a tie, he’s always serious,” Thomas said. “That is the cutest kitten ever. My subconscious is awesome.”

“Your subconscious needs to stop pulling this strange and unexpected hokum because it’s wasting my time to figure it out. I’ve got more important things to do,” Logan scoffed.

“But Logan. Look at this kitten. Just- just look at her. Tell her she wasted your time.”

He looked at the kitten. “You….” Her eyes were big and round, the fur around them appearing to be improbably soft, and her nose was so tiny… 

He tried again. “You, cat, are…” Virgil was giving him a wide eyed stare that was somewhat analogous to the look the animated deer, Bambi, often wore in the Disney film about the creature and his woodland friends. Somehow, the cat was also wearing a look similar. He cleared his throat. He could do this.

“Cat. You are wasting…”

He couldn’t.

“It’stooadorableIhavetogetoutofhere,” he said in a rush, sinking out. He could hear Thomas laughing, Virgil laughing (Virgil?! Laughing? Anxiety was LAUGHING!? What kind of miracle kitten…?) and the stupid adorable impossible cat purring.

Author’s note: This was supposed to be short. I started this on my phone last night after getting home at 10 from watching IT. I don’t know where this idea came from, but there you have it. It happened. And I’m absolutely taken by the Sanders Sides, if anyone wants to send me requests or prompts, I might very well write them! 

[margsld]

Outlander Epi 3.04 Recap

Of Lost Things you think quite a bit about.

Toni Graphia wrote this highly anticipated episode - it's the favourite thus far of the original author, Diana Gabaldon.  Again, this season is cramming a lot of details from the book and the additions and deletions are mostly good (don't get me started on Cheating Frank). It's bothering me a little that it jumps between times so often and making me OCD with my screencaps. Hold on tight. We are going on a bumpy ride.

Scotland 1968. Claire is still in Inverness hunting down her highland ginger biscuit like a Wight looking for Jon Snow.  Bree and Roger are using it as a chance to flirt at every opportunity *ah young love.... as finding your loved one’s secret loved one is like adopting a puppy together. It takes commitment.

Fiona is not letting Bree get in the way of her giving Roger a coronary and stops by the researchers, to nourish them with her baked goods.  We all want a Fiona Roger, you ungrateful oaf.

Claire pops up from the table shouting ‘Ginger Bingo’ (or is that 'Gingo'?) and shows them a list of Prisoner names from Ardsmuir. They are off again but it soon becomes a dead end.  They head to Edinburgh for a last laugh, take the time to stir up the locals with their outrageous womanhood etc & to look at some mouldy ship logs as prisoners were usually transported to the Colonies. They should have asked Jamie's Ardsmuir cell mate for help.

 It’s 1756 in Helwater, England. Jamie is living tough with a new name (Alex McKenzie) and with the Dunsaneys.  He’s sulking because they won’t let him grow his hair longer than his shoulders but that mop will not be ruled. Lord Dunsaney has a quick word on their arrival back from a holiday in Italy, Molto Benne! He knows who Big Red is and suggests keeping it from his wife.  I think it’s a ploy to keep the Hot Scot away from his wife for other reasons. *wink wink nudge

Roger has faked a broken down car just so he can see what other skills Bree has up her sleeve.  After some Scottish boy noises, Bree takes over the mechanic-ing and spots the trouble straight away.  Silly boy look, Rog. It was that sneaky distributor cap going all loose and now so was Roger’s feelings. Awwww. So romantic.

Geneva Dunsaney wakes and the devil says ‘Oh crap, she’s up’ as does half the Helwater staff. The stablehands draw short-straws to see which poor sod will be her ‘escort’ during her leisurely gallop in the woods.  Jamie cops abuse from her and dutifully bites his tongue.  Geneva’s exit is her sister Isobel’s cue to arrive just as Jamie is fantasising about kicking Geneva’s arse.  She’d like a ticket to that event and front row please.  Isobel is crushing on Jamie’s Chess buddy, Lord John Grey and naturally finds it appropriate to share this with Jamie.  She is only human. Jamie is a lady whisperer.

Claire gets a call from her surgeon buddy Joe Abernethy.  He’s sick of doing her workload and asks when she’ll be back in Boston instead of flunking around Scotland’s dusty Archives.  Claire isn’t sure but encourages Joe to operate on her fave patient as a treat.

Helwater, 1757.  The stablehands have all rallied and found Geneva a husband.  They party for days.  Mr Groom-to-be is that old that Geneva is stoicly trying not to vomit as he kisses her hand in farewell. They are to be married soon. Ick.

Geneva now has Jamie in her sights.  She's like a sailor looking for land after being at sea for 27 months.  She forces him to escort her on her daily horse ride and quickly puts the 'Bitch' in 'Bitch'.  Jamie trieds to stand his ground but dang, she looks like Claire, no? Plus, lady whisperer.....  Geneva is a brat and races her horse ahead, all the while laughing like a woman with a screw loose. Shortly after, Jamie hears her scream.  He finds her unconscience on the ground and goes to help.  He picks her up and she becomes animated again, laughing at her having tricked him.  Disgusted, Big, Grumpy Red promptly dumps her face first, into a big slushy mud puddle and we all cheer like it’s a Queensland win at State of Origin. Geneva is a bit nuts though and embraces her impromptu mud mask.  Chick logic. Life gives you lemons, you make a facial out of it, right, Ladies?

The handsomest redcoat in history, Lord John Grey, is visiting from London and we find them playing Chess in the Helwater gardens with Jamie.  Who knew chess was an outdoor sport? Lord John swells with pride that Jamie’s report card is in and it’s glowing.  Yayyy!  *high fives.  They are soon interrupted by Isobel, Hal (John's big bro), Hal’s ego and Geneva aka Mega Beyotch.  After introductions are made, it’s clear to Gen-baby that Hal knows Alex McKenzie and not just from his horsey-skills. She's a moth to the flame that one.  Of course it doesn't help when Alex aka Jamie aka can't this guy settle on one name, doesn't stop looking at his feet. Suspicious factor 50+.

Just a few days before the big nuptuals take place Geneva corners Alex and threatens to reveal his true identity to her mother, ensuring Jamie gets another stretch in HMS Ratfarm.  To keep his secret, she demands he takes her maiden-head so that Lord Crusty McEllesmere doesn’t have that privilege.  He tries to reason with her but she’s seen his backside in breeks and well Duh. 

Jamie’s sex class has attracted one eager student.  Professor Tight Breeks arrives and without hesitation performs Magic Mike’s striptease with the flair of a dead frog. That bum though is fiiiiiine!  He tries to turn her off the job at hand *cough by showing her his back scars but she’s impervious.  She’s seen that fuzzy butt peach for real and there is no letting this opportunity go.  He’s patient and she’s nervous and for the first time we see her vulnerable side and her nipples.  Jamie softens to her (no not that kind, he’s Scottish af) and starts to enjoy himself too.  Good class, sir. Good class. I reckon that's the best wedding gift she'll get.

Condoms didn’t exist in 1757 so when Geneva next visits Helwater about 7 months into her marriage, it’s very obvious that the father of her bulging waistline is Jamie.  He nearly has a conniption at the sight of her but keeps his cool because he’s Fraser. Jamie Fraser. Carry on, old chap.

Roger and Bree, kissing in a tree manse, K>I>S>S>I>N>G 

Bree & Roger are discussing giving up the search for Jamie.  Roger says feelings and so Bree grabs Professor Brown-Beard and smacks one on him. *Woot woot. He doesn’t want her to go back to Boston. #Broger

Nothings ever rosy for long in TV land and we find ourselves scurrying with Jamie to Ellesmere Estate.  There is some big emergency with Geneva.  She has gone into labour and all is not well. So of course a stable dude is just what she needs.  When they arrive, Lord Crusty McTightjocks has started chucking his toys out of the cot.  He has finally realised that Geneva was not a virgin when they married. Seriously? It took him a whole pregnancy to work out he’d forgotten to tap that?  *smacks forehead  Along with his toys, he threatens to kill the baby and Jamie arrives just in time to save the day by shooting Ellesmere, D.E.I.D.  Noone knows how the baby survived the fall to the floor because we all just cried as Jamie was seeing his son for the first time.  Awwww.  Blood gushing nearby, nope, don't see it.  Awwww, baby blinked at daddy.

The coroner found that Ellesmere died from severe arse-holeness and we all moved on.  Well, he really ruled it as misadventure, due to stress.  The stress of receiving a bullet at high speed probably. Just guessing.  Lady Dunsaney thinks Jamie is pretty HAWT now.  He saved her grandson and so he’s earned his ticket back to Sunny Scotland. Jamie chooses to stay though as he's wanting to see how this fathering business turns out.  He tells Mrs D that Scotland sux right now so he’s going to hang aboot in H-water for a bit longer, thanks.  PS>When’s payday?

Teaching your secret son to ride a horse like a boss is Jamie’s new hobby.  Wee Willie is starting to resemble his daddy though and even though he lacks the flaming red hair, it’s the cock of his head and the way he rolls his R’s that is starting to cause suspicion.  Even the neighbours are onto it.  Jamie realises it’s time to go before people put two and two together so Sayonara English bitches.

Lord John arrives at Helwater just as Jamie is about to leave.  Jamie asks him a favour; Would he look after Willie in his absence and in return LJG can have the use of his peachy playground.  When Lord John comes back down to earth from shock, he announces he’s to marry Isobel Dunsaney and raise Willie as his own anyway.  Jamie is pleased that all seems to be working out.  What's with the handshake here?  In the book it was a kiss and I wanted to see that. Tsk.Tsk. At least give the man a big hug....

Willie is distraught at Mac leaving and goes to visit him in his room.  PS. The security and supervision is terrible in this house, it’s a wonder anyone is alive.  He interrupts Jamie lighting Stinking Papist candles and wants to join his fire party.  Jamie explains he’s lighting them to remember all the people he’s missing or has lost, including his Wife.  He gives Wee Willie McCutey a hand-carved snake with his name on it to remember Mac by.  He wants to give Mac something in return so he'll remember Willie too but *sob Big Red will never forget *sob him *sob.

Things get a bit blurry here and tear ducts need to recover.  When it comes to saying goodbye we parallel bounce between times.Bree and Claire are also giving up the search and heading home to Boston while Jamie is leaving Helwater for Lallybroch.  Pause.  Just pause here.  Can't we have two more episodes with wee Willie?  No?  *grunts 

 Can we just have one happy ending ffs?  Is it Monday yet?

The End.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

The Best-Dressed Men Of The Year 2017

http://fashion-trendin.com/the-best-dressed-men-of-the-year-2017/

The Best-Dressed Men Of The Year 2017

It wasn’t that long ago that lists attempting to rank men by how they dressed were weary, predictable things. Menswear was about rules – the spoils went to whomever adhered to them best. They’d be half Hollywooders whose stylists knew how a dinner suit should fit, a couple of musicians in leather jackets and a rapper or two.

Then everything blew up. The Rules, rehashed in new ways every decade, collapsed in on themselves. The result, over the past couple of years, was a fashion supernova. Up was down, casual became smart, and hip-hop rose both in the charts and on red carpets.

The men on this list don’t share a single look. But they embody the same approach, one that is thoroughly modern: “I wear what I think looks good, whether you agree or not.” These are the guys who, in 2017, reminded us why we love style. Who showed us new ways to dress and who defined the most exciting era in menswear for more than a century.

Quick Jump: 50-41 | 40-31 | 30-21 | 20-11 | 10-1

50. Roger Moore

There’s been plenty of bad news in 2017, but for fans of well-dressed men of a certain age there was more – Roger Moore sadly left the building. We’ll remember him through slightly teary eyes as the man who made the white dinner jacket look the best it (probably) ever has while bringing achingly cool outfits to the wardrobe of the world’s most famous spy. This Bond’s style is still one tough act to follow: Sir Rog, you’ve undoubtedly left the world a little bit less stylish.

“It’s easy to confuse the style of the late Roger Moore with his spell as James Bond – the flares and fat knots, the safari suits… Off-screen Moore was both more classical and more elegant in his dress. He was more Bond than Bond, as self-deprecating and good-humoured in person as his on-screen personae.” – Josh Sims, author, Icons of Men’s Style

49. Matt Bomer

With the kind of jawline more commonly found in comic books, one of the latest actors off America’s leading man production line has a bit of a headstart when it comes to looking good. But he also does a fine line in everything that comes below. His style is classic, but with a (wearable) twist, often elevating simple tailoring beyond the typical nine-to-five clobber. The White Collar star has also made the wise career choice to always look at least a million dollars in a dinner suit.

“Matt Bomer knows exactly how to play with layering, adding a waistcoat or knitwear under a cropped leather jacket or a woollen winter overcoat.” – Danny Ching, senior designer, Hardy Amies

48. Jonah Hill

His transformation from token funny fat kid to Academy Award-nominated actor is impressive enough on its own. But in 2017, Jonah Hill decided to add another switch-up into the mix, this time with his appearance. Alongside a new slimmed-down physique, the War Dogs star developed his own, unique laid-back aesthetic, merging skate brands such as Dime, Palace and Richardson with high-end statement pieces from likes of Saint Laurent and Gucci. All of this adds up to one of this year’s most effortlessly cool entries – we can’t wait to see what he does in 2018.

“Hill has long known how to look good in a tux. This year, he also left the stoner vibe behind and adopted a smarter and more contemporary take on smart-casual.” – Luke Sampson, associate editor, FashionBeans

47. Tom Hiddleston

Let’s address the elephant in the room. Yes, the man who sported that infamous ‘I Love T. S.’ vest in 2016 has made our list of the best-dressed men. Everyone makes mistakes, and thankfully for Tom Hiddleston, this year has been devoid of any skin-crawling cringe statements. Instead, he’s been doing what he does best: sharp suits that go heavy on pattern and occasionally get colourful. A case for finding what works for your style and rinsing the hell out of it.

“Not many people wear a slim-fit suit better than Hiddleston. If you’re ever unsure about proportions when it comes to tailoring, just do what he does.” – Ian Taylor, editor-in-chief, FashionBeans

46. Nick Jonas

It’s not impossible to remember a time when the Jonas brothers were peak lame. But have a gander at Nick Jonas now. Gone is the mega-mopped Disney boyband-droid and in his place stands an actual human, and a well-dressed one at that. Not averse to a patterned suit and with a collection of bombers that regularly turn us green-eyed, Jonas has developed into a connoisseur of cool that we admire, sartorially speaking at least.

“The Jonas look is one of two things, usually: a never-dull mix of streetwear, or statement tailoring done without looking like he’s peacocking. Hard to fault.” – Luke Todd, deputy editor, FashionBeans

45. Rami Malek

Despite a birth certificate that confirms his 36 years on earth, Rami Malek has quite clearly struck the same Dorian Gray arrangement that’s kept Pharrell suspended in time. Which is good news for his wardrobe, as it means he can brush off concerns of age appropriateness and carry on chucking on whatever he likes the look of: statement outerwear, bold print shirts, colourful tailoring and even a moustache and vest for his upcoming turn in the Freddie Mercury biopic.

“Aside from an enviable collection of bomber jackets, what we really like about Rami Malek’s style is that he never goes boring on the red carpet, whether he’s combining a leather jacket with tailoring or picking out a suit most guys wouldn’t have the brass to try.” – Jamie Millar, men’s style writer

44. Mahershala Ali

How do you end a year that started with picking up an Oscar and a stint as a Calvin Klein model? Land yourself a place on our best-dressed list, that’s how. Masherala Ali made the cut thanks to his unrivalled ability to endlessly pull off new looks. We’ve had Masherala Ali in a dinner suit, Masherala Ali in double denim, and Masherala Ali in layered camel. It all worked.

“He was only in Moonlight for all of 10 minutes and stole the show – such is the power of Mahershala Ali, an ascendant Hollywood actor, whose style is known for lifting staple looks with flashes of statement here and there. Look up his tartan-panelled chore jacket for proof.” – Murray Clark, assistant editor, FashionBeans

43. Andrew Garfield

Andrew Garfield’s single-handedly flying the flag for lanky, proudly geeky guys in Hollywood – and we’re all for it. The sartorial struggle that comes with being tall, but not especially wide, is real, but the former Spiderman nails it by making sure the cut of his clothes follow his form rather than swamp or cling to him. At his best in a never-ending tailoring rotation, Garfield plays with pattern, colour and separates for a modern take on fifties formalwear.

“It could be easy for someone with baby-faced charm and big floppy hair like Andrew to get stuck in perennial youthful style on the skinny suit merry-go-round. But like his acting, Andrew has embraced an elegant maturity with his look.” – Sarah Ann Murray, fashion editor and stylist

42. Waris Ahluwalia

It’s hard to say exactly what Waris Ahluwalia’s full-time occupation is. So to make life easy, we’re just going to swerve his CV and move on to his wardrobe. Purportedly a massive hater of being put in a (figurative) dressing-up box, Ahluwalia’s style works so well because it takes influences from all corners of menswear and throws them together in one impeccably judged sartorial mish-mash. Respecting the wishes of the man himself, we’re not going to attempt to define his look, we’ll just simply sit back and admire.

“Waris has a great style, often mixing tailoring with unexpected twists and accessories. He wore our quilted waistcoat over a suit and under a trench coat to add a more casual layer. He has fun with his style, which comes across when you speak to him.” – Delphine Ninous, creative director, Belstaff

41. Jake Gyllenhaal

Ill-advised hipster beard phase aside, it’s fair to say that Jake Gyllenhaal has been pretty steadfast as one of Hollywood’s premier male dressers. The Nocturnal Animals actor has since ditched the aforementioned bushy chin wig for an impeccably groomed, short, boxed beard, but his wardrobe has needed no such update. Throughout 2017, you were just as likely to see Gyllenhaal at New York Fashion Week in a slouchy grey crew neck and jeans, as you were to spot him on the red carpet in a well-fitted suit. It’s this versatility that sees him cementing his place among this year’s best-dressed men.

“Gyllenhaal sticks to tailored silhouettes and safe colour palettes (as most of us do). It’s uncomplicated, but that gives his look an effortlessness that’s hard to manufacture.” Ian Taylor, editor-in-chief, FashionBeans

40. Cillian Murphy

It speaks volumes about Cillian Murphy’s on-screen style that a man can now confidently stride into any barbers and bark “Peaky Blinders, mate”, and walk out 45 minutes later with the exact haircut he had in mind. But it’s not just as Brummy tough-nut Tommy Shelby that this Irish actor deserves praise. Off screen, his wardrobe manages to be simultaneously eclectic and low-key. An everyman-type vibe, carried off with an achingly cool nonchalance that puts him among the best dressers in Hollywood. We’re not sure what’s sharper: his wardrobe, or his cheekbones.

“Outside of Peaky Blinders, his inimitably laid-back approach to formal dressing gives him a cool everyman aesthetic that’s much harder to pull off convincingly than he makes it look.” – Moss Bros, men’s design team

39. Oliver Proudlock

Oliver Proudlock may have come to public prominence through Made in Chelsea (AKA the poshest reality TV show ever created), but in a world of non-ironic shooting garb and tweed fails, Proudlock is the dissenting dresser whose get-ups are often more East London than South-West. Anything that men are typically afraid to wear, Proudlock will put on. Bold prints, layer after layer, head-to-toe streetwear? That’s a regular day for this TV personality, who is also the brains behind the brilliant Serge DeNimes brand. If you can think of it and it isn’t boring, Proudlock has probably worn it, and it probably worked.

“Always an envelope pusher in the style department, Proudlock consistently flouts what most people expect from the Made In Chelsea brigade, mashing up streetwear, hip-hop and rock ‘n’ roll for a look that is entirely his own.” – Luke Todd, deputy editor, FashionBeans

38. Anthony Joshua

For anyone out there who’s intimately familiar with the squat rack, Anthony Joshua is a consummate lesson in what to wear when you’re all muscle. On the red carpet, he leans towards a straight cut, rather than anything aggressively slim, so that he can actually sit down inside. He understands the power of wearing a slightly longer jacket to balance out his iron paradise upper half and pleated trousers to make light work of his heavyweight quads. Because even when you’re big, it’s the little details that count.

“Anthony Joshua oozes style and charisma. He looks slick in tailoring and makes a white T-shirt look the business.” – Alex Longmore, celebrity stylist

37. Alexander Skarsgård

Alexander Skarsgård is a six-foot-something Swede with a face that looks like it’s been painstakingly carved from marble, so dressing well is probably a bit of a hobby for him rather than a necessity. That said, 2017 has been another stellar year in the wardrobe of this War On Everyone actor, who casually flips between classic Hollywood tailoring and annoyingly good thrown-on airport outfits. It’s not just his choice of clobber that gets an enthusiastic thumbs up from us either, his moustachioed mug at the Emmys almost convinced us to reconsider everything we thought we knew about appropriate and inappropriate facial decoration.

“Vertically unchallenged? Alexander Skarsgård shows men how to do tall, handsome and dressy. Especially in a suit.” – Marcus Jaye, blogger, The Chic Geek

36. Jon Kortajarena

Just when you thought you couldn’t get any more green-eyed about Jon Kortajarena, a man seemingly designed to point out everyone else’s physical shortcomings, it turns out he’s also an affable guy with zero problems in wardrobe the department. Bitter, us? Kortajarena’s style works because he has a clear understanding of the situation he’s dressing for. He does velvet dinner suits IRL just as well as in those Tom Ford ads, and brings the right level of unbuttoned aloofness to what he wears on the weekend. We hope his breath smells.

“Jon Kortajarena is a prime example of man who really works his best – and most prominent – feature, even though it’s not the kind of feature every man would want to work. He’s blessed by natural good looks, but like fellow model Cara Delevigne it’s his thick, attention-seeking, slightly unruly eyebrows he’s known for.” – Lee Kynaston, grooming editor, FashionBeans

35. Mark Ronson

It’s a universally acknowledged fact that there’s no colour on the Pantone chart that isn’t hung up in Mark Ronson’s wardrobe. We’re glad of it though, a few good turns in a black dinner suit will only get you so far. Ronson’s not just a headliner in jazzy suits, mind, he’s unbeatable at knowing what works well with them. T-shirts, printed shirts, shoes lifted straight off the set of Bugsy Malone; if nothing else, he made 2017 a much less of a sartorial snoozefest.

“This guy dresses himself as well as he produces music. You can tell if someone is an original or just a charlatan. Mark has always looked good and unique. The way he mixes all styles is a bit of an insight into his own personality, I think.” – Sebastian Dollinger, creative director, Eton Shirts

34. Tinie Tempah

There are a few lucky men in the world who can pretty much chuck on whatever they want and still look maddeningly good. Case in point: Tinie Tempah. Whether clad in loud, clashing prints, streetwear or draped in gold chains, Tinie makes our wardrobes feel woefully conservative pretty much every time we clap eyes on him. Maybe don’t try this at home, just admire from a distance.

“Not one to shy away from a statement suit, Tinie Tempah gets our vote for championing brave choices. He’s willing to take risks with colour and texture, yet he manages to make the sometimes-tricky balance between bold and tasteful look easy.” – Moss Bros, men’s design team

33. Jeff Bridges

While 90 per cent of the male population go grey and immediately descend into a bootcut-jeaned, ill-fitting blazered malaise, the remaining 10 per cent (of which Jeff Bridges is most certainly a part of) age like a fine bottle of something expensive, earning themselves the later life-affirming ‘silver fox’ moniker. Bridges may be knocking on 70’s door, but geriatric clichés don’t form any part of his style lexicon. A diet of well-cut suits make up the bulk his wardrobe, each finished with a how’d-you-make-it-perfect tie and beard that almost makes us wish we could speed up time.

“Jeff Bridges has that uncanny ability not only to embrace age, but to remind us all that it can look pretty damn cool too. He seems to don a tuxedo or three-piece suit with an effortless bohemian charm, though look closely and you’ll notice his suits always fit perfectly.” – Sarah Ann Murray, fashion editor and stylist

32. Aziz Ansari

Comedian and Master of None actor Aziz Ansari doesn’t need a souped-up wardrobe to help his pulling potential: women love funny men, but that hasn’t stopped him crafting a personal style that marks him out as a master of, well, most things menswear. As a regular on the awards circuit, we’ve seen him pull off stunting suits time and again. And when it comes to pounding the mean streets of New York, he’s got a killer chino and bomber jacket rotation.

“Comedians aren’t known for their great style but Aziz Ansari has bucked the trend: think razor-sharp tailoring, the odd pop of colour and probably a one-liner to top it off.” – Murray Clark, assistant editor, FashionBeans

31. Ansel Elgort

This was the year Ansel Elgort began to earn his seat at Hollywood’s top table, swapping sickly sweet teen films for meaty, bona fide acting roles (particularly a star-making turn in the very stylish Baby Driver). Right on cue, his wardrobe also stepped into leading man territory, proving on more than one occasion that Elgort knows how to shake up a suit for the red carpet, but is equally adept and making a getaway in a preppy bomber jacket and a pair of work boots.

“Elgort is the new crown prince of Hollywood and his style fits the role perfectly: colourful Americana, laid-back varsity jackets and, when he needs to, exemplary tailoring.” – Jamie Millar, men’s style writer

30. Eric Rutherford

Eric Rutherford looks good in a suit. He also looks good in dad jeans, a woolly jumper and a nice shirt. Which is deeply unfair, because, for most men in their 40s, that’s an outfit which implies they’ve given up, rather than the kind of thing you wear to Fashion Week. But then, that’s the genius of his style; it’s unfussy, unpretentious, but nails the basics – fit, fabrications, form – so it always speaks louder than the sum of its parts. The fact he’s also got cheekbones that could cut diamonds is just a bonus.

“Eric Rutherford has that classic effortless style which fits into any era. His light tailoring during July’s menswear collections in New York was outstanding.” – Jonathan Daniel Pryce, menswear photographer

29. Conor McGregor

There are two things Irish MMA powerhouse Conor McGregor is best known for: laying the smackdown inside the octagon, and rocking knock-out ostentatious outfits outside of it. The Notorious one is all IDGAF attitude, and that comes through tenfold in his unapologetically flamboyant get-ups, which can’t be referenced without mentioning his custom ‘Fuck You’ pinstripe suit. While there are few (if any) men who could pull it off, Conor does so because of his unfaltering, balls-out self-assurance. Proof, if ever it were needed, that true style is all about confidence.

“Yes, he’s brash and not everyone could get away with what he wears, but “Fuck You” tailoring gets a thumbs up for sheer audacity.” – Marcus Jaye, blogger, The Chic Geek

28. Pharrell Williams

Unlike most other men on this list, Pharrell is not an example of how you should dress. No one else on earth can pull off primary colours, coruscating patterns, distressing and jewellery, all in one outfit. But he does epitomise how you should think about style: that clothes can be fun; they should express your personality rather than that of the brand which made them; and with enough confidence, rules aren’t so rigid after all. Okay, so that doesn’t necessarily mean you should immediately experiment with oversized headwear. But maybe, make 2018 the year you take a few more risks. If it makes you as ‘Happy’ as Pharrell, it’s worth it.

“Pharrell is always setting trends, and looks effortlessly cool no matter the occasion. He never hides from colour, takes risks and has produced some bold, crazy, iconic collaborations to date.” – James Wright, menswear designer, Nicce

27. Matt Smith

Any man can, within reason, look good. And it doesn’t take Leto-levels of eccentricity to get there. That Matt Smith wins most red carpets by sticking to what he does best is a testament to the same ineffable sense of taste that’s seen him reach the A-list by eschewing blockbusters for TV roles. That’s courtesy of an actorly self-confidence that shines through in what he wears off-screen; understated, elegant and never shouting for attention. But always getting it.

“Matt Smith is one of Britain’s best dressers thanks to his ability to seamlessly transition from heritage-inflected looks to grungier get-ups in a way that feels totally authentic and impossible to impersonate.” – Luke Sampson, associate editor, FashionBeans

26. Riz Ahmed

If there’s a red carpet rolled out and Riz Ahmed’s scheduled to walk on it, we’d put big money on him making best-dressed lists the following day. The Rogue One actor is one of those guys who has the ideal frame for wearing tailoring, which we suspect helps a lot when he’s constantly pulling off suits that aren’t painfully boring. If patterned tailoring and air ties sound a bit dodgy on paper, then have a quick Google of Ahmed during awards season. It can be done, and very well at that.

“The guy’s just impossibly cool and that shines through in his style – check any red carpet and he’ll be off to the side somewhere, in a petrol-blue suit, or micro-florals. He’ll be the best-dressed guy but he doesn’t even seem to care. And that’s what true style is all about.” – Tom Banham, men’s style writer

25. Dave Franco

We’ve given up keeping track of the latest bizarre thing James Franco has said or done this year. Instead, we’ve been keeping our beady eyes fixed firmly on his younger brother, Dave, and his definitely-not-bizarre wardrobe. A polar opposite of Jared Leto or Lewis Hamilton, Franco Jr is consistent in letting classic staples like the polo shirt do the talking, all the while adding an of-the-moment edge by championing style moves such as the shirt tuck and seasonally-appropriate mankle. James, you can keep your hand-me-downs.

“He does some winning throwbacks to fifties menswear, but Dave Franco also reminds us that monochrome outfits pretty much never let you down.” – Murray Clark, assistant editor, FashionBeans

24. Johannes Huebl

Johannes Huebl is fortunate to be adept at looking good, because anything below par is going to make him feel like average Joe next to wife Olivia Palermo. The 39-year-old model’s style won’t win any awards for shut-the-front-door originality, but that’s no bad thing. He consistently demonstrates that blazers don’t just make sense for fancy awards dos, they work just as well with a denim shirt and white chinos in summer. In truth, if more men had the ability to make tailoring feel so effortless, we doubt they’d want to switch it up either.

“The German model looks good in everything, but he’s particularly good at tailored separates. If you want to mix up your blazers and trousers, type his name into Google images for a two-second masterclass.” – Ian Taylor, editor-in-chief, FashionBeans

23. Stanley Tucci

Look at Stanley Tucci and you’ll wonder why we all don’t wear a suit all the time. He is among a handful of Hollywood players – including Savile Row-obsessed Paul Feig – who don’t just break out the tailoring when a red carpet event requires him to. It’s a simple thing, but he understands that fit doesn’t just mean fitted; Tucci switches between loose and light in Cannes to heftier British jackets, all roped shoulders and chest padding, like other guys change their shirts. He always looks like a man who slipped on a suit because he couldn’t imagine wearing anything else. Which is why even at his most trussed up, Tucci always appears to be having fun.

“No one wears a suit like Stanley Tucci. The key is in the fit and attention to detail, he is always impeccably turned out.” – Nick Tahir, head of menswear, River Island

22. Frank Ocean

While most of the internet spent 2017 (still) swooning over Frank Ocean’s 2016 album, Blonde, we were more interested in the noise his wardrobe was making. And boy, did we get noise. There was pink then blue hair (shockingly, both worked), an endless supply of I-wore-it-first slogan T-shirts, not to mention the masses of straight-leg designer denim. Naturally, all of it was greedily lapped up by Tumblr. Our new year’s resolution for 2018? Be at least a tenth as cool as Frank.

“Frank’s laid-back and effortless approach to personal style is a big thumbs up in my books. Casual yet refined with a bold statement hair colour proves that it’s not what you’re wearing but how you wear it.” – Joel Mcloughlin, blogger, @Gallucks

21. Armie Hammer

Thanks to an Oscar buzz-worthy turn in Call Me By your Name, this was the year that Armie Hammer properly hit the big time. And when it came to the rags on his back, the 31-year-old proved he’s equally worthy of praise. Perfectly-cut tailoring? He does that. Natty knitwear and pulse-quickening overcoats? He does those, too. Put-together summer style that doesn’t look at all sweaty? Well, well, well, we’ve got ourselves a style hat-trick. Better start writing that acceptance speech.

“Armie has understood what many tend to forget. By keeping it simple and classic he always looks sharp. I am pretty sure that most pictures of Mr Hammer will age well and people won’t look at them 20 years from now and think ‘what the hell was he wearing?’. Classic stuff not only makes you look good but ages even better.” – Sebastian Dollinger, creative director, Eton Shirts

20. Jared Leto

If you’re of the opinion that real style is only achievable by not giving a single, solitary shit what anyone thinks, then count Jared Leto as your spirit animal. The actor-slash-musician-slash-walking-Gucci-billboard may often look like he’s been flung by a trebuchet into Iris Apfel’s walk-in wardrobe, but do you know what? He radiates confidence, he owns it, and that, friends, is what it’s all about. You do you, Leto, because we certainly haven’t got the balls to.

“Jared Leto is a Marmite dresser, but his bold choices are a welcome distraction from the sea of samey suits come awards season. He’s incorporated pretty much every style influence you can think of into his wardrobe this year.” – Luke Sampson, associate editor, FashionBeans

19. Luke Evans

It seemed like poetic justice that Luke Evans spent time in a silly wig and frilly shirt on screen for Beauty And The Beast because, according to our calculations, it was the only time he didn’t nail an outfit in 2017. Evans is a master of wearing clothes that complement rather than cut off circulation to his gym-familiar frame. A fan of straight jeans, non-skinny tailoring and with access to a collection of leather jackets worth splurging on, his style is obviously impressive but emits no sign of caring too much.

“Luke Evans has always looked stylish. Always dressed impeccably and suited to the event or occasion. Him and his stylist are obviously a great pairing.” – Oliver Spencer, menswear designer

18. Virgil Abloh

As a long time creative director to Kanye West, Virgil Abloh is unsurprisingly well versed on what’s cool and what’s not. Fortunately, the man behind insanely hip high-end streetwear brand Off-White has all the swag of his collaborator, but none of his insane ego. In fact, what’s made Abloh’s wardrobe so appealing this year is its lack of bravado, with stealth luxe sportswear, artful grunge and all-black-everything forming the backbone of his signature looks. One thing’s for sure, there’s nothing off about anything we see here.

“Our #1 is Virgil Abloh. Right at the tip of the new wave of creatives. Pulling fashion and culture together and throwing it forward. Designs everything. Wears Levi’s.” – Jonathan Cheung, head of design, Levi’s

17. Charlie Casely-Hayford

The Casely-Hayford clan fight the good fight to keep suits a wardrobe essential, even in a world of work-friendly joggers. Charlie, the father-and-son fashion house’s younger arm, wages that war on the front line, with a tailoring-heavy look that marries Savile Row with the electricity of East London. Of course, it helps that he’s a six-foot-something part-time model and that dad Joe (OBE) is a one-time British Designer of the Year. But what Charlie does unaided is make clothes look fun and easy, things to play with rather than take too seriously. Which is about the best advert for his label – and British fashion more widely – anyone could offer.

“Charlie is renowned for his commitment to excellence and quality, which is anchored by his well-tailored and modern gentleman approach to style.” – Rachel Morgans, buying director, Topman

16. Tom Ford

Even Action Man doesn’t wear a uniform as well as Tom Ford. Of course, it helps that the designer’s standard-issue involves a perfectly-cut black suit and tieless white shirt, rather than combat trousers (although they do share inch-perfect facial hair). It’s unsurprising that Tom Ford appears on these lists every year, without fail; he wears the same thing every year, after all. But the thing that always gets him over the bar is his willingness to tweak the standard black two-piece on the red carpet; a crushed, burgundy dinner suit, say – nothing more crazy than that. Less is more, after all.

“Few things are likely to link Tom Ford and Mark Zuckerberg, least of all their wardrobes. But both have discovered the power of picking a uniform that works for them and, in this case, doing it very, very well.” – Luke Todd, deputy editor, FashionBeans

15. Stormzy

Man try say he dresses better than Stormzy? Tell my man shut up. The Croydon grime superstar burst onto the scene in a red, Run DMC-reminiscent tracksuit back in 2015, but since then his wardrobe has undergone some serious refinement. It turns out Michael Omari’s lofty six-foot-four-inch frame was built to carry a suit of the tailored variety, too. The 24-year-old, platinum-selling artist looked anything but stuffy in his Burberry two-piece at this year’s Brit Awards, but his off-duty lean is still enough to leave even the most hardened of streetwear dons with a tear of joy in their eye.

“It’s hard to talk about style in 2017 without mentioning Stormzy. In addition to the Adidas tracksuits he’s sported most of his early career, his look has matured, leaning towards more clean-cut and simple pieces.” – George Nicholson, deputy editor, The Idle Man

14. David Gandy

At FashionBeans Towers, we sometimes amuse ourselves by imagining clothing combinations in which David Gandy might not look good. It is a tough game. Voluminous cargo shorts? Deep V-necks? Crocs? He could nail them all with elan. Which is why he shouldn’t necessarily be a great fashion icon – when someone looks that good all the time, how can you tell whether it’s the clothes or the man? Lucky, then, that his go-to is impeccable tailoring, which tends to make even the most dadbodded amongst us punch a class or two above our weight. More so than very white, very tight swimming trunks, at least.

“David Gandy has set the benchmark for men’s style over the last decade and to call him a modern-day fashion icon wouldn’t be an exaggeration. The man is as perfectly presented in person as his is in photographs. He is the very epitome of the modern British gentleman: stylish, charming and elegant.” – James Doidge, head of menswear design, Marks & Spencer

13. Ryan Reynolds

Things that Ryan Reynolds has not done since he turned 40: discovered a love of sensible cardigans; worn a baseball cap with the logo of a car he does not own; explored the ‘bootcut’ section of the denim aisle. Things he has done: realised that suits can be fun, come they in windowpane or camel; worn the Henley collar in ways that will make you want to cheat on your crew necks; stay in the kind of shape that makes looking good that little bit easier. That’s your big 4-0 birthday wish list sorted.

“Ryan also does the custom motorbike owner look, and does it well. His wardrobe boasts a number of quality leathers and suede jackets (that I wish I could afford), which he pairs with straight-leg jeans and some fresh sneakers so he never appears like he’s a moto try-hard.” – Chris Gove, creative director, Percival

12. Zayn Malik

Pity poor Niall Horan, the forgotten ex-Directioner – his transformation from tween heartthrob to wannabe singer-songwriter is being obscured by the megawatt fashion-off between Zayn Malik and Harry Styles. For every one of Styles’s navel-slashed silk shirts, Malik has a black velvet jacket from his collection for Versace Versus, and a new transformative hair do. He answers Harry’s red-suited Vanity Fair cover with Vogue, cuddled up with his Victoria’s Secret Angel other half, in his-and-hers Gucci. As far as their competition goes, it’s still too close to call, but we’ll continue enjoying watching it play out.

“Zayn Malik has evolved into a stylish dresser ever since going solo. He has a sharp eye for emerging trends and is never afraid to experiment. He wears some of the best brands out there, nailing the tailored fit just right.” – James Wright, menswear designer, Nicce

11. Eddie Redmayne

Much like the gentle charm of the man himself, Eddie Redmayne’s wardrobe is wholly appealing without being in-your-face in any way. Throughout 2017, he has drawn heavily on heritage design; not in a cringe-inducing Jacob Rees-Mogg kind of way, more in a “why didn’t I think of wearing it like that” way. If he’s in a herringbone blazer, it’s paired with a T-shirt; if he’s wearing a cardigan, it’ll go on underneath a suit and be finished with sneakers. One-part familiar, one-part fresh, Redmayne’s style is all-parts class.

“Eddie Redmayne encompasses smart dressing for both on- and off-duty. His suits are always the right cut, style and a perfect fit, meaning they work well whether layered with a knit, classic Oxford shirt, or dressed down with a pair of smart white leather trainers. We also admire that he isn’t afraid to take risks. Taking classic British style and injecting it with personality.” – Danny Ching, senior designer, Hardy Amies

10. Ryan Gosling

On the press tour for Blade Runner 2049, Ryan Gosling debuted a hitherto secret collection of V-neck sweaters, the kind of thing that gets boys beaten up in school. We knew the Gos was a man of many talents – not least making musicals actually bearable – but this seemed optimistic even for a living meme. And yet here we are, with V-necks undeniably a ‘thing’. This in a year that also included wearing a ruffled shirt to the Oscars, making brown suits feel exciting (even when worn with, unbelievably, V-necked knitwear) and starring in a sequel that might just be better than one of the greatest movies ever made. Well done, Ryan. Well done.

“The appeal to Ryan Gosling is that he doesn’t fear to be daring with his style. He symbolises the modern man but nods to past trends that keep him looking unique.” – Thom Whiddett & Luke Sweeney, tailors, Thom Sweeney

9. David Beckham

A best-dressed and front-row stalwart, this year Becks stepped the other side of the runway. His investment in British heritage brand Kent & Curwen – a business that invented the cricket jumper, no less – turned a long-shuttered label into one of the most exciting new names at London Fashion Week Men’s. The 42-year-old has become a walking billboard for the brand, proof that in ice cream-striped rowing blazers, military great coats and, of course, those V-neck jumpers, he can tap century-old heritage and yet feel thrillingly modern.

“David Beckham made it okay to care about our appearance again, after at least a century of increasingly drab male attire. A true British legend in style that has a rare knack for pulling off a three-piece suit or a hoody and baseball cap with equal aplomb.” – Nick Tahir, head of menswear, River Island

8. Skepta

Skepta may once have shut down fashion week in a black tracksuit, but these days he’s a front-row regular at the likes of Burberry, where he sports rather smarter garms. Along with BFF and honorary Boy Better Know member Drake, Joseph Adenuga upends expectations about what rappers should look like. He does high fashion happily – barely minutes after Christopher Bailey had taken his bow, Skepta had nabbed the show’s standout black overcoat – but also champions underground talent like Nasir Mazhar and Cottweiler. Not content with just playing dress up, this year he also launched his own line, Mains, at Selfridges. The starring piece? A black tracksuit, of course.

“Skepta brings the same energy from his music to his clothing. He’s conscious of what works for him and stays within that field, but still manages to have fun. Black seems to be his base colour, and he then builds a look around that in a completely modern way. Plus, the round frames seem to have almost become his signature, and it’s the small details that elevate his look.” – Charlie Casely-Hayford, menswear designer

7. Alexandre Mattiussi

We’re pretty sure Alexandre Mattiussi, the founder of young Parisian brand Ami, is the human embodiment of what would happen if you crossed what men actually want to wear with epic taste and an unwavering appreciation of cut and quality. A poster boy for the kind of pared-back wardrobe we’re always harping on about, Mattiussi should be a hero to any man who likes his style simple yet effective. Think navy chinos, classic sweatshirts and athleisure trainers, then chuck in a bit of denim and camel and you’ve got the Mattiussi method.

“Ami, as a label, feels like an extension of its founder. Which is why it’s one of the best menswear brands out there. Everything feels authentic, free and easy, even while it pushes boundaries. Both it and the man behind it do newness without it feeling like any effort. It’s just, well, Parisian. But the kind of Parisian style that doesn’t come accessorised with an attitude.” – Tom Banham, men’s style writer

6. John Legend

John Legend has often played second fiddle to wife Chrissy Teigen in the dream dinner party guest stakes this year, thanks to the latter’s Internet-winning brand of humour. That said, style-wise, there’s no doubt that Legend is just as his name suggests. The sartorial antithesis to Lady Gaga, everything he wears looks easy, unforced and completely natural. His line-up draws heavily on patterned shirts, bomber jackets and coloured tailoring, but his ability to keep things on the right side of discreet means that he hits the middle ground between interesting and age-appropriate every single time.

“John Legend has worn the Oliver Spencer brand a few times this year and has made my clothes look fantastic on all occasions. It’s always about what the wearer can do for the design to make it stylish. Oh and he’s a huge musical talent.” – Oliver Spencer, menswear designer

5. Oliver Cheshire

Oliver Cheshire appears in our style roundups so regularly that we’ve given up stamping his loyalty card. You’d be forgiven for thinking it’s easy to look good with those genetics, but many a male model dresses well on the runway, and like a sack of spuds off it. Cheshire, however, has an eye for an occasion and a sixth sense for how to tweak what’s expected. On red carpets, his suit is always classic, but never run-of-the-mill. As befits a man who lives in planes, his airport style turns comfort dressing into something that would work at Fashion Week. And he does Mr Ripley-influenced Riviera style better than Dickie Greenleaf himself.

“Oliver has a brilliant eye for creating a stylish but fun outfit, and that’s important. There’s always one element of his outfit that looks fresh, and stands out.” – James Doidge, head of menswear design, Marks & Spencer

4. Jeff Goldblum

His highest-grossing film may have been 1993’s Jurassic Park, but when it comes to style that’s sharper than a velociraptor’s gnashers, Jeff Goldblum is no dinosaur. The softly-spoken 65-year old is known for his award-winning performances in some of Tinseltown’s biggest blockbusters, but in menswear circles, he’s nothing short of a bona fide style god. His expert melding of slim-cut, monochrome outfits with the odd statement piece thrown in hasn’t gone unnoticed. Which is why when it comes to skirting the line between fashion and age-appropriate dressing, Jeff is an oldie but a goldie.

“The secret of Goldblum’s success in style is down to two things: consistency – he’s found his simple, dark, casual look and sticks with it; and ease – he always looks relaxed in what he wears. He’s not a flashy dresser at any level.” – Josh Sims, author of Icons of Men’s Style

3. A$AP Rocky

The A$AP Mob boss once rhymed “Oliver Peoples” with “Ann Demeulemeester”, but his dress sense bests his consonance. Last year he became the first black male to front a Dior Homme campaign; this year, he fused streetwear and couture in ways much imitated but never bettered. In the process, he pulled hip-hop even further from big chains and bigger logos into something that hungrily samples high and low fashion culture. Harry Styles embodies what proper rock stars used to look like. A$AP Rocky is a glimpse at what they could become.

“A$AP Rocky’s style has continued to improve on his signature aesthetic. He’s aware of his body shape, exploring a variety of fits and has really come on with bold patterns and colours (coinciding with the Gucci boom of 2017). He can transition and blur the lines between casual streetwear and high fashion.” – Alexander McCalla, stylist, Thread

2. Harry Styles

The one-time boybander shrugged off his old skin completely this year, with an album of Prince-referencing pop that was nothing like anything he’d made before. It was also the year he became fashion royalty. The Styles style consists of equal parts sex appeal and self-confidence; he looks like he’s just rolled out of bed (one in which he’s certainly not slept) and pulled on whatever was to hand, whether that’s Saint Laurent skinnies or a dragon-embroidered Gucci suit. Making him the closest thing we’ve got to a genuine rock star.

“Harry is one of the few celebrities who works with a stylist and looks like he actually loves what he’s wearing. There’s something very genuine about his style. I believe he’s into what he’s got on, which is rather refreshing.” – Simon Chilvers, men’s style director, MatchesFashion

1. Donald Glover

For us, the mark of truly commendable style isn’t necessarily consistency. What separates the bloody great from the fucking fantastic is an ability to not just nail a particular niche, but to jump from one menswear genre to another without breaking stride. And it’s this genre-hopping that the artist formerly known as Childish Gambino has done better than anyone else in 2017.

Perhaps it’s not surprising from the singer/rapper/actor/writer/comedian. Donald Glover has form when it comes to effortlessly switching codes. On stage, his look mixes Jimi Hendrix, the Beach Boys and old-school hip-hop. On the red carpet he flits between elegance and flamboyance. Over the past 12 months, we’ve seen him do trends without looking try-hard (he’s particularly good in corduroy, printed shirts and the rest of the seventies look), but he also suits the classics.

Perhaps at his sharpest in dressed-down tailoring, Glover doesn’t much like a tie, but he will play with pattern, texture and tonal colours. He’s a fan of the sockless look, too. And when the dress code calls for a dinner jacket, he doesn’t play by the usual penguin suit rules. At this year’s Emmys, he stepped out in Prince-worthy purple. At the Golden Globes, the dinner jacket was Gucci – brown and velvet. Fitting for a rogue who’ll step into Lando Calrissian’s shoes in 2018.

The big take-home-and-wear-it lesson from Glover is this: at a time when the rules of menswear are splintered, there’s nothing wrong with being a chameleon. Not when it looks this good.