#imagine if all his red stripes were rainbow ....... guys ....

[criiitter]

silly guy in his silly eyeliner (he's going to pride)

inspired by a post by @ultimat3-lif3form

[pinejayy]

How about a Reverse! Wally (where the personalities are reversed). Well what if the reverse wally went to the original universe, now there are 2 wallys? And as a bonus, his girlfriend the reader came with him. But what if in the original world of Welcome there was no reader. Now the poor reader has 2 wallys fighting for his attention and love? If possible could the reader be human?

If my order is too complicated, forget it, I don't want to burden you.

[ I was thinking about the theory if a character didn't exist in a certain universe how would that affect? ​​As long as it existed in another.. In this case it would be the READER. ]

Two Wally's, at the same time!! It's a dream come true!! It's like a Wally Verse, just imagine how many more different versions of Wally's there are

And I love this request! I hope you have a lovely day Darling~ <3 I hope this is good!! uwu

OBSESSION! (Wally Darling x Reader x Reverse! Wally Darling)

Trigger Warnings: Maybe like two curse words, knife and rope mention. Normal Wally is going to be Wally Darling and the Reverse Wally is going to be referred as R!Wally Darling uwu

What a lovely day. Well it was a lovely day. You were hanging out with your boyfriend Wally Darling and all of the sudden both of you were sucked into a portal, you thought you died but ended up at the Neighborhood, but it seemed different that your neighborhood. How strange, you looked at your boyfriend. "What's this place? Do you know Sweetheart?" Asking your puppet boyfriend.

R!Wally looked at you and he just shrugs. "Maybe we walk around and ask these people." He told you, to which you just nod grabbing him by the hand. Feeling safe around him. He smiled at you, you really loved your boyfriend. He was a sweet and a calm person. And he was so gentle towards you, and caring.

As you guys walked around this new place, everything looked the same but different. When you guys were walking around you ran into the neighbors that were from here. And they looked like the neighbors back from your world. How strange... Sally was Sassy and a brat but here she's sweet and fun, Julie was mean and harsh and here she was filled with joy. Both Poppy and Barnaby were really sweet here and in your world they kept to their selves. And here both Frank and Eddie were a couple! And Howdy was very helpful! Everyone was sure different here.

"Hello Wally! I love your new outfit!!" Sally said, as she ran towards you guys and looked at you and tilted her head to the side as she looked at you. She's never seen you before.

R!Wally looked at her, new outfit? His outfit was a Rainbow stripe shirt. With Khaki pants as he was wearing a small red scarf around his neck. "This is my significant other...my lover."

Sally gasped and started to jump around. She looked like she was a little kid on a sugar rush. Then she ran off yelling. "WALLY HAS A LOVER!"

How odd? You both look at each other and shrug as you guys were about to walk off a voice stopped you. "Hello, are you guys new Neighbors!"

You turn around and gasped. It was Wally! Well not your Wally. He looked exactly the same. Besides the outfit, it honestly freaked you out. You quickly hid behind your Wally.

Both of the Wally's looked at each other as they studied each other. R!Wally spoke up. "It seems like we're in the wrong Neighborhood. We were leaving."

But Wally looked at him, and chuckled. "Non Sense! I'll help you guys! Come follow me." He said in a firm but friendly tone. As you guys had no choice, you followed this Wally. This Wally walked you over to his house. Hmm..His house is also alive. As he invited you guys in he looked at both of you. Well especially at you.

His eyes never left you. It was honestly kinda creepy. As you guys sat down on his living room.

You were sitting by your Wally. You looked down as you still felt uneasy around the other Wally. You don't know but something about him seems really creepy and uneasy.

"So, do you guys care to explain how you guys got here?" Wally said. As he narrows his eyes at his other self. "And if you don't mind explaining who this is." He said pointing at you.

R!Wally grabbed your hand. He smiled at you assuring you everything is going to be okay. And then he looked over at the other Wally. "First off we don't know how we got here. We kinda just showed up. And second this is my lovely significant other Y/N."

Wally growled to himself, why didn't he have someone like you. He had to win you over, he didn't know you but he does know that you belong to him and HIM ONLY!

"Hmm how interesting...I don't have a Y/N for myself." Wally said as he looked at you. His pupils dilated. He was smiling big. He wanted you...he needed you.

You look away, as you try to hide from him. Using your Wally as a protective wall. He noticed this and placed an arm over your shoulder. "Shh it's okay sweetheart, well get back to our neighborhood soon."

You just nodded and smile. This made Wally angry but then he smirked to himself. As he stood up walking closer to you guys. "Why don't I help you guys out."

You and Your Wally look at each other as you guys had no choice and nodded. He smiled at both of you "Wonderful! Now new friends! Follow me, I think I might have an idea where you guys came from!"

Wally took you and R!Wally out for a walk. He walked you guys away from the neighborhood. He was ahead of you guys, you just followed behind. Holding onto R! Wally's hand. You didn't trust the other Wally. Something about him was off, some evil...

As you guys continue to follow him there was a loud "THUD"

You turn around and see R!Wally on the floor holding onto his head. And seeing Wally holding a piece of wood. Wait where did he get that? And wasn't he in front of you guys! How did he appear behind you guys?! As you were about to help R! Wally up Wally grabbed you quite quickly. As he held you close.

"You're mine now, and only mine! Why didn't I get a Y/N! Why didn't I get a sweetheart!" He began saying, as his grip tighten against you.

You whimper out, trying to get away from him. R! Wally looked at you and at the other Wally. Something inside of him snapped, seeing you being held like that made him feel something. Something he's never felt before. Jealously.

Your Wally quickly got up and charged towards the other Wally. "LEAVE MY SWEETHEART ALONE!"

Wally laughed and pushed you to the side as he walked towards the other Wally. "Oh? Didn't like that? Well what are you going to do about that ha ha ha ha!"

"Glad you asked!" R!Wally hissed and punched the other Wally in the face, causing him to stumble.

Soon after both Wally's were on each other. Throwing punches and kicks. You just stood there in horrors, you didn't know how to help. But you've never seen your Wally act like this. It was something new.

"Please! STOP!" You yell out, crying out. As you tried to pull off Wally off of your R!Wally an elbow came in contact with your face.

Wally accidentally elbowed your face. This made R!Wally even angrier. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" He yelled out, giving Wally a final punch before running to you.

"Are you okay sweetheart?" R!Wally asked you, as he checked on you. Thank God there was no cut or blood. But you looked at him and tear up not paying attention to what happened to you. You just saw how best up he was and broke.

"Oh baby, are you okay?" You asked him. To which he just nodded and smiled. "Yes I'm alright sweetheart just worried about you."

Wally couldn't help but growl softly as you looked at both of you. He was envy that he didn't have a lover, why did this faker have one. Was the world against him? He just kept looking at you guys. He needed to win you over somehow.

As you guys started to get up, you looked over at the other Wally. Scoffing at his direction. "Thanks for the help asshole."

Walking away from him, you held onto R!Wally's arms as you both walk hopefully you guys find a way back to your neighborhood. As you guys walked off leaving behind Wally. He ran back to you guys.

This time he appeared in front of you guys. Holding flowers in his hands. You guys stopped in your tracks and R!Wally put a hand in front of your body, protecting you. As you were behind him, you stare at Wally. What does he need now?

"Haven't you done enough?" R!Wally said. Stopping in his tracks as he saw the flowers. Is he really trying to win you over? How funny! "It's funny how you're trying to win over my sweetheart."

Wally didn't pay attention to him but he looked at you, you just hid behind your Wally more. Whimpering.

"Please....Y/N I know we are meant to be together! Please I need you, the second I saw you it was love at first sight. You'll be my light to my darkness... you'll be my candy apple." Wally said, as he held up the flowers. As he started to walk towards you guys.

Both you and R!Wally started to back backwards. He held both his arms up. Protecting you. "I don't think my Sweetheart wants nothing to do with you."

Wally didn't pay attention to him, his words just went into one ear and out the other. Wally just kept holding on the flowers, hoping you'll give him a chance.

You were getting overwhelmed, as you heard his words. You didn't know how to feel. He wasn't your Wally but he looked like yours. And that's what really got you.

Then all of the sudden both of them were looking at you. You were about to tear up. "Are you okay Sweetheart?" R!Wally asked you.

You nodded "I don't know how to feel. It just hurts seeing him talk to me like that. I know he's not you but he looks like you." You say, feeling ashamed.

This made Wally smile. he had hope. "I'll give you the best life my Candy Apple!" He said taking a few steps towards you guys. "Why don's you choose instead?" He stood in front of R!Wally smirking.

R!Wally looked at you and at him was he really saying that? Why would you choose this Wally over your actual Boyfriend? He felt it again.... Jealously fill his body. He then pushed Wally quite hard.

Wally was taken back a bit, as they were about to throw a punch at each other you got in the way. Specifically you in front of one of them, holding your hands up. Protecting him. Both of them stopped.

Now you have to choice who it was....

Now if choose your Sweetheart R!Wally

He smiled at you, he knew you would never let him down. He was happy that you protected him. "I love you Sweetheart, I knew you wouldn't leave me for him."

To which you just smiled and nod, both looking at Wally now. He was sad, you could see the tears starting to form in his eyes. It hurt you honestly but that's only because he looked like your Wally.

Wally just stood there he was going to get you no matter what. He just dropped the flowers and walked off.

Both you and your Sweetheart shared a kiss. Today was a crazy day. And you guys started to walk off. Hopefully you guys make it back to your own neighborhood.

Little did you guys know was that Wally would soon follow you with a knife and rope...you belong to him and choosing him over him was your first mistake. Wally was going to show you that your his, that your his Candy Apple.

Now if you Choose Wally Darling

R!Wally just stood there, shocked that you picked him! His eyes started to fill up with tears. He didn't expect you to leave him like this. "Sweetheart.....Don't tell me you're picking him over me?"

You didn't know why you picked him over your actual boyfriend. Maybe it was the guilt or maybe not. As you didn't know what to say so you just looked down and stood by Wally's side. Making Wally smile big, wrapping an arm around your waist.

He brought you close to himself and placed a big kiss against your lips. Making R!Wally whimper. his heart breaking. "Fine, then this is it. farewell my Sweetheart, I'll always keep a place in my heart for you. Maybe in the next lifetime we will be back together."

And with that R!Wally left, leaving you guys alone. Did you make the correct choice? A few tears slipped from your eyes.

Wally wiped them away and smiled. "Shh don't cry my Candy Apple. Come let's go back to the neighborhood. You have a new life ahead of you."

Damn I was tearing up writing that last part! But I hope you enjoy this uwu

[descendantsramblings]

Style Headcanons

So basically, I’m a big hater to the way the costume team worked on them. The whole “All Isle kids wear Leather” and “Auradon Kids always look like they’re on their first kid and on the way to the country club” thing drives me crazy. It sorta feels like they made costumes before giving them personalities (The leather on Carlos  and Evie feels like it clashes with their personalities. Lonnie’s dresses in the first movie doesn’t fit the personality we see, even though she didn’t have much of a personality until movie two. Audrey dressed like a thirty-four year old mother who just picked up her kid before going to the country club. Ben’s only good outfit was his swim trunks.) So here are some personal headcanons and pictures of what I imagine for them. (I started making them at 1am last night lol)

Villain Kids 

Evie

As someone raised to want to be a princess, she wants to dress like how she imagines a princess would.

She loves pastels and is no stranger to pairing pastel blue with a neutral red or bright white. 

The only pants she really wears are either athletic shorts or those little flowy elastic shorts, otherwise she’s all skirts.

She’s sorta a prep but not in the same way a character like Audrey would be. 

Evie has respect for most aesthetics, even though she doesn’t fully fit just one. However, she hates crocs and those little pastel shorts that white boys wear, she will announce it often.

Wouldn’t be caught dead in neon colors. 

owns a blue fur coat (it’s fake fur, obviously)

Carlos

Baby boy is a total softie

You know that one gay little sweater in movie one, that’s where they went right, more of that.

He’s into the soft boy aesthetic and only strays from it for formal wear

loves layering sweaters over button ups

Cuffed jeans, always because ya know, bisexual 

Owns a floral button up from Jay, normally he hates patterned button ups but it’s his favorite shirt. 

Loves striped sweaters, he owns about 6 variations of them in different colors (all include red, white, or black of course)

Jay 

In theory, Jay doesn’t really have one aesthetic, he’s willing to try on just about anything

Most of his clothing was bought by Evie or Carlos, especially his formal wear

The only clothes that Jay will buy for himself is athletic wear

He doesn’t really see the point of buy clothing that he can’t go straight to practice in. 

Still has the beanie,  but he owns one in just about every color to match it to his outfit.

Listen, we know Jay’s main color is yellow/gold, but why did we always see him with more red/blue in the movie? What type of snow white aesthetic were they trying to give him?

Jay owns a button up that he write on, he refuses to wear it actually buttoned though

Mal

She loves the grunge/alternative aesthetic, she thinks it makes her look more like she belongs to the Isle

She wouldn’t wear skirts until after she and Evie became friends, Evie bought her her first skirt (a purple plaid one) and she fell in love with it

Mal has a whole jewelry box of just chains, both necklaces and ones that attach to clothing 

Owns a pair of Demonia Swing-815 boots (black patent) and a pair of Demonia Camel-203 boots (holographic purple) 

100% owns one of those studded hot topic belts. 

Has a headband with little horns that symbolize her mother’s horns 

Instead of the leather half gloves from the movie, she has those little fishnet gloves and covers her hands in rings.

Uma

Her style is similar to Mal’s because if Mal is going to do something, Uma will do it better.

Uma only wore outfits that were super Fem and had skirts until Mal started doing it

Then it was Uma always wearing pants, because of her love for plaid skirts she owns a whole collection of plaid pants

the only jeans she owns are black or dark wash. 

Her first ever large purchase was a pair of Doc Marten 1460 Zip Tartan Lace up boots (they’re green, black, and blue plaid) 

She and Harry bought matching Doc Marten Jadon platforms (his are more shiny though)

Isn’t as into chains as Mal, more into chockers. 

Harry 

When the E-boy aesthetic came out, Harry was all over it 

Harry definitely has one of those chains with a little lock on it. 

I’d like to imagine he has baby gauges

the before mentioned platform doc martens, he definitely treats them like his baby

Even though Harry dresses like an e-boy,  he always has his pirate hat on

Definitely wears cloth masks as a fashion piece he actually would wear his in the pandemic though, unlike some people who wore them before but not for safety 

Harry is actually really good at graphic liner, he owns a gold, red, and white eyeliner to add color to the outfit if it’s mainly black

gold>silver 

Bought plaid pants because Uma did, he want’s to match with his captain

Gil 

As we know (maybe you don’t) it’s in the canon that Gil’s mother taught him to sew and he enjoys it. 

So Gil doesn't dress in one aesthetic or even close to being in one, he wants to try out everything, both making and wearing them.

He does stick to a monochrome color scheme though, mainly shades of brown with white or black thrown in. Sometimes he adds a little red or yellow though to “honor” Gaston

Most of his clothing is more comfortable than anything

Only owns three pairs of jeans, the rest are different types of pants (he loves corduroys) 

Owns a pants chain that harry bought him but he only really wears it when Harry and Uma are wearing one so he won’t feel left out on it. 

Dizzy 

Baby girl has seen the Isle steal the childhood innocence from people, she dresses in kidcore as a way to keep hers

Her outfits always has at least 4 different colors in it.

No stranger to neon colors, she has a pair of overalls that are neon rainbow and covered in gummy candy and she only wears them with a neon green tee, Evie and Carlos hate this outfits, Jay loves it because of the disappointment it brings to the two fashion fans 

Dizzy’s outfits in the movie were colorful obviously but they should have been just more over the top

She loves patterns and has no fear of pattern mixing

definitely owns some funky earrings, clay rings, and  statement necklaces

puts beads on her shoe laces, especially on her converse (they were white ones, she drew all over them) 

Auradon Kids 

Ben

Okay so Ben’s animated and movie outfits were bad, you can’t convince me of anything else

Why was Ben not dressed in the soft boy aesthetic? You’re trying to tell me that Belle’s son wouldn’t be a soft boy?

He has a jean jacket with his father’s beast symbol painted on the back

Absolutely loves graphic crewnecks, often layers them over collared shirts

He and Carlos go shopping together often in their free time

Lover of funky crew socks,  ones with paintings, patterns, logos, whatever. But his socks always match

After he and Mal started Dating, he bought a white jean jacket and let her paint it, he wears it all the time even though it didn’t match his original clothing, he bought more clothes in her color scheme to match it

He owns like 6 pairs of high top converse (light blue, yellow, white, navy, black, and Purple after getting the jacket back from Mal)

Chad

Listen, out of everyone he was the closest to how I imagined he should be, that being said, he had a little soft boy thing going on in some movies that I don’t think fit his personality

Polos and button ups are basically all he owns, but he does have some of those pastel simply southern esc graphic tees (Southern people probably know what I’m on about, all the guys who act like Chad at my school have like 5 of them each)

Owns 6 pairs of those horrid little southern boy pastel shorts in different shades of blue (plus 1 white pair)

Will not wear jeans, ever, the only pants he owns are khakis

All over the shirts that have logos embroidered into the shirt over the chest. 

Definitely gets asked if he’s on the way to golf/ the country club, the joke is that he is, he has to meet his father there after school

prep.jpg

Audrey 

Listen, I’m not an Audrey stan, but they did her so dirty in the first movie

She should have been the stereotypical mean girl outfit wise, I mean, mini skirts, all pastels

Owns a pink teddy coat, and a white one, she actually cares about if they get dirty though, takes good care of them

definitely has a collection of tennis skirts, pairs them with sweaters/crewnecks or blouses that have a slight puff to the sleeve

The type of girl to wear rufflely rompers on her birthday every year, pink, white, or baby blue obviously

loves those tiny shoulder bags

preppy and looks good in it. 

cropped polos and tube tops

Jane

This account is a Jane should have been cottage core/ fairy core fan page, her outfits were almost there, just not there, she’s literally a fairy but can’t use magic nor did they let her dress like one, I hate it here

Baby girl loves gingham and floral patterns, some of her dresses are a little more to her mother’s taste than hers (her mother bought them) but as long as it’s a pattern she likes she will wear it. 

Cardigans are her best friend, she owns one in multiple shades of pink and blue, plus a white one (all of her clothing fits a pastel pink/blue/white color scheme)

Babydoll dresses her a her favorite style of them (the one I put in the top right corner is what I imagine her birthday dress as) 

People try to mockingly ask if she’s on her way to a tea party/picnic (like they do with Chad and the country club) if the answer isn’t actually yes one of her friends still say yes, no one can be rude to her about it 

She owns a corset (Evie bought it for her, it made her nervous at first but she loves it) 

Owns kitten heels and flats mainly also two pairs of mary janes (in white and blue) 

has one of those little pearl purses that aren’t really useful but they’re cute 

Lonnie

Last but not least, our funky little lesbian (she is, Jay is just her emotional support queer man) Lonnie, she sticks to the teal, blue, and pink color scheme they gave her in movie one

She mainly wears sweats (or athletic clothing) otherwise it’s graphic tees tucked in (many of them are from the men’s section) 

Only wears sneakers, she has places to be but also collects them (also owns 1 pair of pink crocs, Evie tried to burn them)

Carlos and Ben talked her into wearing a collar shirt under a graphic tee once (they bought her a sleeveless button up which she hated at first) and now she does it anytime she wants to look like she put effort into her outfit. 

Wears a lot of necklaces and rings (she loves to layer necklaces, she thinks it makes her sweats look less boring) 

Uses a mini backpack instead of a purse, easier to carry more things.

Has two pairs of custom painted air forces. 

Hates wearing bracelets but always has to have a hair tie on her wrist so they don’t feel empty .

[mymedicine]

Alocasia

or, 7.5k words of blushy harry and sassy y/n

moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist

sum - y/n doesn’t like people, but she likes harry—even though he keeps fucking this up

warnings - language, alcohol, mentions of sex (not explicit), lots of banter, excessive use of parentheses, umm... veganism?

notes - hiii! for once i don’t really have anything to say other than welcome, to a very fluffy and kind of chaotic one shot. hope you give her a chance and a reblog if you enjoy! <3

Upon moving into his charming downtown apartment, Harry was feeling a lot of things.

He was excited at the prospect of living there, of waking up in his cozy new bedroom, of flipping pancakes in the kitchen with a stunning view of the city skyline, and of lounging on his soft gray couch while watching reruns of Criminal Minds. He was also anxious, and a little annoyed. There were groceries to be bought, chores to be done, bills to be paid (Fuckin’ landlord was an ass for refusing to include utilities in the rent). The cabinets in the bathroom were a little creaky (Do I need some WD-40? Can I afford WD-40?!) He even had to walk up four flights of stairs to get to his door, a task which Harry was keen to count as his daily exercise.

Above all, Harry was lonely. Living alone was a blessing and a curse, he reckoned. He could lounge about without any clothes, dance in the kitchen to the sounds of Folklore (a guilty pleasure), and watch creepypasta videos on YouTube until three am (and consequently stay up til dawn, for fear of nightmares) without worrying about anyone but himself.

But after just two days in the new place, he was concerned that the cost of privacy may not be worth it. Loneliness and boredom weighed heavily on his conscience as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Not only did he live alone, but he also didn’t have any friends in the city yet. No one to see, nothing to do. Lost, he decided. No direction, no purpose…Only four walls and a bunch of empty cabinets.

And yet it wasn’t even social interaction he craved necessarily—it was purpose, company, and…perhaps some cuddles. He briefly considered the idea of a pet. Maybe a friendly little French bulldog to chase around and be responsible for? Or a fluffy Maine Coon kitty to scratch behind the ear and snuggle at night?

But the bills…the responsibility…The prudent adult deep within Harry knew he was hardly ready to support himself, let alone a helpless animal. He’d have to feed it and walk it and make sure it didn’t shit all over the floor—not to mention the landlord would raise hell if he found out.

Meanwhile, the soft, gentle, maybe a little naive man who dominated Harry’s conscience was craving a friend. Pets were a no for now, so what’s the next best thing? He grappled with the question…Surely, a person was the obvious answer. He wouldn’t mind a pretty body to warm his heart—or, at least, his bed.

Harry stretched his legs out over the arm of the couch—the only furniture he had at the moment aside from his mattress on the floor of the bedroom—and snuggled into his cozy corduroy blanket, craving warmth in the cold apartment. A rainbow cardigan adorned his chest today, draped over a plain white turtleneck that warmed his neck. He liked to keep it cold so he could be snuggly wrapped in his sweaters without sweating bullets. He dug around in the pocket of his cardigan for his phone, eager to receive affection from something other than his clothes.

In retrospect, Tinder had given Harry far more unfortunate encounters with other people (lots of younger girls just looking for a plug and toxic guys who left him on read) than pleasurable ones. But hindsight was always 20/20 and isolation had already planted the seed in his head.

He quickly examined his own profile. It consisted of two photos of him smirking softly (not too serious, but not too eager either), one with his sister and his mum (to show he’s a family man), and a group one with his mates (because sure, he was lonely, but he didn’t want people to know that). There were also one or two shirtless photos (thirst traps, according to Niall) that he’d sprinkled in between the tame ones even though it made him feel kind of icky. Weighing the odds, he’d decided that desperation for matches outweighed the cringey-ness of it all.

His very last photo was the only one where he felt like himself. He was smiling wide in it, wearing a baby blue sweater with a little chick popping out of its egg on the front that Mitch had teased him for back home. His bio, too, showcased his wholesome values.

Harry’s eyes widened as he observed on the first person he saw upon opening the home page—Y/N. She only had two photos—a shot of her perched on a car hood and smiling wide and one far away one with her figure drowning in a sea of…plants. Fittingly, her bio read: “I love plants and I hate people.”

She was beautiful and every bit as anti-social as himself. It was perfect.

Harry laughed softly to himself and swiped right immediately. He was giddy when the familiar It’s a match! popped up on the screen immediately. His thumbs hovered over the keypad, brow furrowed as he frowned at the screen. Matching was one thing, but actually starting a conversation was another entirely.

Ultimately, he decided honesty was the best policy:

you had me at ‘i hate people’ :D

Now what? Matching was one thing, starting a conversation was another, but having a whole conversation was another thing entirely. He hated the waiting, especially when he had absolutely nothing to busy himself with in the mean time, aside from fiddling with his fingers and doing laps around his living room.

Seven minutes later (not that he’s counting), a ding came through on his phone.

y/n: you had me at ‘treat people with kindness,’ mon petit :)

Harry smiled wide. He was pleased she’d noticed not only his bio, but also the sweater he was wearing in his favorite photo of himself. It was the perfect response from a perfect girl.

harry: so what do you do?

y/n: i work at a plant shop on Main

Figures, he thought. He imagined her carrying a watering pitcher, tending to a plant with gentle fingers. She’d be surrounded by them like she was in the photo on her profile, green on all sides. God, he thought. What a beautiful scene with a beautiful star.

harry: wanna go for drinks tonight and talk about plants?

y/n: sure ;)

Nightfall brought a chill to the air that made Harry desperately want to curl up into his warm bed and snuggle into his pillow. But here he was, shuffling his feet outside the crowded bar and absently wearing another tiny hole in the sleeve of his striped sweater. It was a decent bar in town. They didn’t water down the drinks and they kept the lights dim so she wouldn’t have to see him flushed beet red after one drink. That is, if she would show up at all.

“Hey, you’re Harry?”

He turned quickly toward the sound of the voice, and there she was. And holy shit, he thought. That is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her two profile photos did not even begin to do her justice. The idea of a mere photo on a screen couldn’t even compare to the real thing. He would never be keen to look at a photo again, he reckoned. It wouldn’t make his heart bloom and flutter like the vision of her in front of him did. Was this love at first sight?

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, and not because the chilly night, “Y/N, right?”

Harry didn’t think he really believed in love—certainly not love at first sight, but this girl was throwing him into another world. Before, he couldn’t seem to stand still, but her presence in front him planted his feet firmly on the ground.

“Yep, that’s me!” She smiled wide, speaking cooly and confidently. It was obvious she knew how beautiful she was and, even more evident, how enamored Harry already was with her.

“I—you’re absolutely beautiful,” The words slipped out of his lips before he could catch them—not that he was really making any effort to hide his attraction for her. Still, he enjoyed the way her eyes brightened and teeth gently nibbled at her bottom lip in response to the compliment

And suddenly, the idea of merely kissing her soft flesh, tickling her sweet bud, and ultimately burying himself inside her tonight didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to smell her hair and hear her laugh. He wanted to make her pancakes in the morning and kiss her lips, sweetened lightly with maple syrup. He wanted to love her.

No, he couldn’t possibly ruin his chance with a girl like this by fucking her on the couch in his cold, lonely apartment, never to see or hear from her again.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Of course.”

One hour and four and a half drinks later, (whiskey cokes for Y/N, vodka crans for Harry) the cramped bar was hot and they were floating on air. He’d learned that she worked at Main Street Nursery, usually by herself, sometimes with her cousin who owned the place. She was an avid vegan, but only because she hated meat and dairy made her sick. She’d learned that Harry was new in town and lived only a block away from Main. Also, Y/N managed to learn that Harry had no friends here and was very lonely in his new apartment, but only after his third vodka cran when the already weak filter in his throat began to crumble and embarrassing things spewed out of his lips like a spout.

“Let’s dance, H.” Y/N requested, gently caressing his bicep from where she sat beside him.

Oh god. No amount of alcohol would let him embarrass himself like that. “I don’t really… uh—“

But Y/N was having none of that. She thrust his half empty glass in his face, eyebrows raised in a pointed look. “Come on, baby!”

He hesitated for only a moment. Her fingers were soft and warm and distracting against his arm and it was very dark in the crowded bar, but he could easily see her bright eyes and the mischief dancing around in them. Somehow, she looked just as beautiful after putting away five whiskey cokes. Ah fuck. How could he possibly say no to her?

Harry tipped the glass against his lips, downed the bitter beverage, and finally let her tug him to the middle of the room.

A few people were dancing raunchily to the loud music, and the combination of the alcohol and the darkness and Y/N’s effortless beauty gave Harry the confidence to join them. He placed his hands gingerly around her waist, nearly flinching at the warm feeling of her skin against his. Y/N flashed him a blissful, slightly drunken grin and squeezed his bicep more firmly, relaxing in his hold.

Y/N led them in a giggly dance, letting her hands wander Harry’s body and ultimately settle around his neck. Brain foggy with an alcohol induced haze, she swayed her hips against his.

Minutes turned into an hour or so and Y/N had grown quite comfortable in the circle of Harry’s arms, fronts flushed together impossibly close.

“Wanna get out of here?” Her whisper in the shell of his ear was alluring, seductive, sweet, and almost irresistible. But Harry was on a mission—one that only included seeing her again after tonight and, ultimately, making her his. Five vodka crans weren’t quite enough to outweigh his desire for something more. No, this plan didn’t include fucking her. (At least, not tonight).

“Um, I think we should…er—slow down…”

“You don’t...you don’t wanna hookup?” She looked up at him with something like disappointment (or maybe anxiety? insecurity? He wasn’t sure) in her eyes.

“No, it’s just… I—I wanted to get to know you?”

Y/N subtly stepped away from him, just an inch or so, but more than enough for him to notice and consequently panic. “Oh um, It’s okay...I just thought—well, I didn’t think we’d really be getting to know each other…”

Ouch. She obviously was not on the same page as he was with the whole I WANT TO LOVE YOU thing he had going on at the moment. The alcohol thickened his skin a little, easing the sting of her words.

“But if I’m like...not pretty enough or nice enough I—uh...” she was rambling a little—and oh god, she must be wasted if she’s questioning her beauty. Harry’s heart hurt. How could she not see that she was perfect inside and out?

“No, Y/N! You’re perfect…it’s just—“

“I get it, um...”

“I’m sorry, you don’t understand!

“I understand, Harry…I guess I’ll just—go home now.”

Well, fuck. In an effort to prolong his time with her, he’d managed to cut it short and blow his shot to see her again at all. He kicked himself for hoping. Hope for the best, expect the worst, he reminded himself. He was just fine at the hoping part, but the disappointment in the aftermath bit even deeper than his desperate loneliness.

Back to square one.

I’m going for a plant…if Y/N happens to be there then…Harry thought as he approached Main Street, then Y/N will be there. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He tugged nervously at the sleeves of his sweater—this one white with a “my life is crap” graphic that he found quite funny—wearing another tiny hole in the fabric. He absently regretted not taking a shot or two before impulsively jogging across the block to the plant shop, but he pushed the thought out of his mind. I’m just here to get a plant.

Truthfully, he didn’t know shit about plants, but how hard could it be? Surely, all it took was a little water and a sunny spot. Optimistic, he wandered into the cute little shop. Upon entering, he found it wasn’t really indoors at all—just four walls of greenery with only a few wooden beams as a ceiling, allowing rays of mid-morning sunshine to illuminate the space quite beautifully. Harry couldn’t help but notice how one such ray shone directly on the most beautiful creature in the shop.

The scene was even more delightful than he’d imagined. She looked ethereal doing even the most mundane tasks, he thought. The way her skin glowed in the sunlight in front of a backdrop of lush greenery? Heavenly. He took a few more moments to absently admire her as she lifted a watering can above her head with skilled hands, squinting at the sun while reaching up to water a large, leafy looking plant that hung from one of the beams.

The plant was hanging just low enough to block her view of Harry, so when he gently cleared his throat to call her name, she leaped backward. A loud thud rang out and suddenly, the watering can was no longer grasped between her fingers and her pale pink apron was stained crimson—completely drenched.

“Oh my god!” they both screeched at the same time.

Harry felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he ran over to her. “I’m so sorry angel,” he said, picking up the now leaking can from the floor. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, oh my god, are you okay?!”

She looked a mess, quite honestly. But even covered in water and sprawled out on the concrete floor, she was cute to him, like a little bud sprouting out of the pot. She looked up at him with a contemptuous stare.

“Harry!” She cried from the floor, “What are you doing?”

While he did appreciate how adorable she looked, Harry was horrified. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d never heard her stutter or seen her blush like that. Even in their brief text exchanges and one night together, she’d always seemed so confident, so effortlessly graceful and calm. “I’m so sorry love, I really didn’t mean to—“

“Why are you here?”

“I-I just...I just wanted a plant and—and… I know you love them, and I thought there wouldn’t be anywhere better to go...”

Y/N’s expression softened as he rambled. “Okay, well, feel free to look around,” She stumbled to her feet, murmuring as she went. She wiped her hands on her soaked apron, trying to clean them but actually just spreading the wetness. “And um…Let me know if you need anything.”

She pressed a tight lipped grin on and her voice went a tinge too high pitched. She was clearly putting herself in customer service mode, but Harry caught a playful glint behind her bright eyes.

Harry flushed red and turned away from her, kicking himself for being so clumsy. He craned his head around the shop, feeling hopelessly overwhelmed. He wanted to ask her for help or at least a gentle push in right direction, but he figured he’d already bothered her enough.

Even with his back to her, Y/N’s presence was distracting. He could hear her feet shuffling around softly, the light clang of the metal watering can against the counter, even the pinging sound from her phone as he wandered the store.

Harry made a few aimless circles around before particular plant caught his eye. It was a modest looking plant, no where near as big as some of the hanging vines and rubber trees that littered the store. It had large, dark green leaves with jagged looking edges and sat pretty in a terra cotta pot near the front of the store.

He decided this plant would suit his needs perfectly (what are those needs again? He asked himself, company? responsibility?). He ultimately ignored his thoughts and the fact that he wasn’t even himself clear on what he wanted and picked up the plant in both arms. He shivered upon realizing that Y/N was probably watching him the whole time as he brought the plant to the counter where she was waiting. Watching him struggle and make a fool out of himself, that is.

“Did you find everything okay?” she asked cordially.

Harry nodded stiffly, unsure what to say. “Mmhm.”

“Have you got others?” Y/N continued making conversation while punching some numbers into the cash register, smiling and avoiding his gaze.

Harry looked up at the same time she looked away from the register. He was a little startled by her question, not expecting her to actually speak to him after what he’d done earlier. “Uh, no. I just moved here, remember?”

“Oh, right—well, you know this is an alocasia?” she said it very gently, with a patient smile. He didn’t like that she was avoiding his gaze before, but now that she was staring at him unwaveringly, he felt like he was under a microscope. Heat rose is Harry’s cheeks. Did the name of the plant matter?

“Uh, yeah? I mean, uh—I had a few back in my old place…” Why Harry? Why is your first instinct to lie?

“So you know what to do with this kind of plant?’

“Um…yeah?” He stammered, speech as rushed and clumsy as the beating of his heart. His sweaty palms further confirmed the obvious—Y/N made him nervous. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was perfect. He felt desperately out of place in front of her here. How could he possibly impress her? After he’d already fucked up more than once?

“I, well—nevermind,” Y/N replied finally, shaking her head. She was still smiling, but now he felt like she was giggling to herself because she knew something he didn’t.

“Did you want to add some Miracle Potion to your purchase today?” she asked, back in customer service mode once again.

Harry did not know what the fuck Miracle Potion was, but it sounded like a rehearsed line she was required to say during every transaction. She was looking at him so pointedly though, and the brightness of her eyes was distracting. How could he say no when she was looking at him like that?

“Yeah, why not.”

And seeing her beam at him with that lovely smile was so worth the extra eight dollars.

Harry cradled his new plant—Franklin, he’d decided—in both arms, awkwardly body-slamming his apartment door to get it open without his hands. First order of business after setting Franklin down on the coffee table was to quench his thirst. He still hadn’t gone on a real grocery trip for the new place, so he’s been living off of trail mix and kombucha. Harry craved kombucha like plants craved water.

Which brought him to the second order of business: research. He sat on the couch with his trail mix, kombucha, and laptop, quickly opening up a search for “alocasia plant care”

And suddenly Y/N’s behavior made sense.

Of course, of every plant he could have chosen at random, Harry’d gone for one of the most difficult, demanding, and definitely-not-for-beginners house plants in the shop.

He had a funny feeling it wasn’t the last time his optimism would get him in trouble.

Harry was frustrated.

It’d been less than twenty four hours since he became a father, and his once green-leafed baby was already browning at the edges. He frowned, peering at Franklin’s crisp leaves as he meticulously sprayed the Miracle Potion into the soil. The once dry dirt was starting to look a little better, but—holy shit!

Harry leaped away from the table, dropping the spray and nearly knocking himself onto his ass. His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. He felt betrayed and horrified. Y/N never mentioned that there’d be bugs crawling in the soil! But Harry could not unsee the tiny worm-ish looking guy slithering up from the depths of the pot and onto the base of Franklin’s stem.

This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Who has he kidding?

He couldn’t help himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing the plant shop’s number without a second thought.

“Hello, you’ve reached Main Street Nursery! We’re not available right now, please leave a message and we’ll call back as soon as possible.”

“Y/N! S’Harry and, oh my god there’s a bug in Franklin! I was sprayin’ the potion stuff on the soil like ya said to but then there was a big worm thing and I dunno what to do now? I’m scared Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me there’d be bugs?! Holy shit, Franklin’s gonna die, what the fu—“

A beep interrupted his ramblings, which Harry would later be grateful for. He was always a sort of ramble-y type, but adding a pretty girl and a bug-induced panic was more than enough to make him insufferably talkative.

He begrudgingly opened the Tinder app, his only other means of communicating with her. He typed out a lengthy message with rapid fingers, explaining the bug situation in between a series of colorful emojis.

thought you knew what you were doing? Y/N’s reply came in three and a half minutes later.

harry: I lied :(

(No use in lying now).

y/n: that’s alright bub. just relax, I’ll bring you some bug stickers

Bug stickers? What the fuck? He’d already made a fool of himself, so he might as well ask, he reasoned.

harry: why would I want a bug sticker?!!

y/n: just send me your address

He did as she asked, blushing profusely at the thought of her being in his apartment. Oh shit, he realized. She’s gonna be in my apartment. Realistically, he knew she probably wouldn’t even come past the front door. She’d just give him the damn stickers and then go off to whatever better things she had to do. But if Harry has any dominant personality trait, it’s optimism.

So he quickly started to tidy the living space—careful to avoid the coffee table where Franklin and his new worm-ish adversary sat. The plant aside, it’s a cute little place that screamed an unemployed single man lives here. Once the kombucha bottles and gum wrappers are thrown out, he puts way too much effort into swiping the trail mix crumbs off the couch and carefully arranging a throw blanket across the arm of it—she won’t even be coming near the couch, Harry, chill out.

When would she be coming? She hadn’t given him a time. She’d asked for his address…did that mean she was coming immediately? Maybe she’d asked for it to come by later? Or tomorrow?—

A loud knocking at the door interrupted his thoughts.

He should have expected this. Even after only meeting twice, he should’ve known she’d barge right into his living room, skirting right past him to find Franklin. The first thing he learned about her was that she owed plants and hated people.

“Um, hello love,” he said awkwardly, trailing behind her. “Thanks for coming over.”

Y/N looked up from where she was examining the plant’s leaves as if she’d just noticed him lurking behind her (very on brand for her, Harry noted to himself). He was taken with her sudden eye contact. Her eyes had that same sparkly glow as they did in the shop—they got that way when she talked about her veganism and her cousin and her plants.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, mister Harry Styles. You’re a liar.” she said plainly. She was frowning at him (Is that a playful frown? He hoped so) “You’re a liar and it almost cost Franklin’s life.”

Harry was, once again, horrified. If he hadn’t proper fucked it up the first two times they met, he’d surely done it now. Y/N loved plants more than she loved breathing, and he’d almost killed one. And he lied to her! Fuck you’re such an idiot Harry...get it together.

Y/N must’ve seen his turmoil, (how could she not? He always did wear his heart on his sleeve) for she cracked a happy grin and smacked him playfully on the arm. “I’m just kidding Harry, for gods sake!”

“But...but the plant—“

“—will be fine.”

“And the...the bug?”

Y/N turned back to the plant and squinted into the soil. She put her hands on her hips over the fabric of her wide pants (Palazzo? Harry wondered absently. They were like those gypsy looking pants that looked super comfy—like, one step above pajamas...and damn where could I get some of those?)

“Is the bug on my ass, H?”

“W-what?” He replied, snapping out of his reverie with wide eyes. No! He blubbered, tearing his eyes away from the yellow fabric to her face, where her lips were pursed and her eyebrows were raised accusingly. He didn’t even mean to be staring at her ass (though it did look cute and peachy in the palazzo pants, he couldn’t help but notice now), but, feeling caught, he blushed sheepishly anyway.

She dropped the accusatory glare, replacing it with a wide smile. “Only joking,” she interrupted his ramblings. “Still reckon you were lyin’ about the bug jus’ to get me over here, though.”

Harry sighed exasperatedly, heart racing as he meandered around the couch toward the table where she was leaning. She kept him on his toes and it was as exhausting as it was enticing.

He got right up behind her and peered over her shoulder at the soil. “There!” He cried, almost having another heart attack at the sight of the little black bug. In a rushed attempt to show her the worm so she could get rid of it, he’d probably put himself way closer to her than necessary. He could feel the fabric of her long pants brushing his toes and her sharp breath hitch against his chest.

“Oh Harry,” she laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of his apartment like beams of light. Looking away from the danger, he focused his attention on her instead. He couldn’t help but notice how her hair smelled like flowers and freshly mowed grass and ...honey? Something sweet and enticing and natural, like the earth. Like a sprawling meadow or rose garden or—

He’d been effectively distracted by her that he’d almost forgot the reason for his fear, the reason she was even here. That is, until the little bugger was out of the soil and crawling on her finger.

Harry screeched and leaped backward, and this time, he did fall on his ass. Right in front of the couch he’d cleaned for her while she giggled profusely. The gentle melody of her laughter and sweet little coos at the bug softened the sting of embarrassment—a little.

“Aw he’s so cute!” She prodded her other finger at the creature, which really was no bigger than her fingernail, but horrified Harry anyways. “Can’t believe Harry wanted me to come and kill you, sweet little thing.”

He was once again struck by how gentle and nurturing and sickened-sweet she got with plants and animals. Meanwhile she laughed at him and teased him ruthlessly for his dramatics.

“Here,” she said “Hold him.”

She thrust her finger into his hands from where she stood above him. Harry flinched away, but couldn’t move far enough from where he sat with his legs folded and feet planted on the ground. The worm fell into his palm. The tiny impact of it on his skin ignited an explosion of fear through him.

A millisecond passed and it crawled through the hole in the wrist of his sweater, causing his panic to quadruple.

He screamed out loud while Y/N continued laughing at him. “AH!” Harry screamed and flapped his wrists violently, throwing himself against the couch with wide eyes as he felt the horrible tickling of the creature crawling on his skin.

“Stop! Stop Harry, let me!” Y/N stepped closer, ducking between his outstretched legs. She shielded her face with one hand and desperately groped around for Harry’s wrist with the other. Finally, he paused to breathe and Y/N caught his arm in both of hers.

She wrestled his arm to still and calmly plucked the creature from his skin. “Thank God,” she sighed dramatically in relief, holding it on her finger between them. “The little fighter survived your temper tantrum!”

“No!” Harry cried, now shielding his own face from the wrath of the worm.

He watched her get up and drop the bug back into Franklin’s soil, all the while laughing at him.

“You’re such a baby, Harry,” she cooed as she turned back to where he was still sat on the floor, “And no wonder you’re so cold in here. You’ve got holes all in your sweater!”

“I’ve got holes in all my sweaters. My mum used to fix them f’me.” He frowned, missing her and his friends suddenly. Living alone was hard.

“You’re hopeless,” Y/N shook her head as she bent down to sit on the coffee table next to Franklin and sent him endeared smile. “I could fix them for you?”

Harry reeled back and blushed, “You—you could do that for me?”

Yes, living alone was hard and lonely and boring. Harry had been shamefully making excuses to see her for several days now, and yet he was completely oblivious to her doing the exact same thing.

“Sure! Come over tomorrow and bring all your sweaters.”

Harry saw absolutely no reason to object. He could never say no to her, anyways. “Okay, then.”

“In the meantime, take these…” She reached into her pocket and fished out four yellow squares of what looked like...tape?

“These are bug stickers,” she explained. “You tape them around Franklin’s stem and it’ll catch the gnats and aphids and stuff. Won’t kill your new little friend though.”

Despite her teasing tone and his lingering fear, Harry couldn’t help but smile at her while she demonstrated how to tape the bug sticker on. He’d deal with all the goddamn bugs in the world if it meant she’d be pleased with him.

She finished taping it on and turned back to him with an adorable little flourish, as if to say ta-da!

“Can I offer you some kombucha for your trouble?” Harry suddenly blurted.

What the fuck Harry? Who the fuck says ‘can I offer you—‘

“Ew, no!” She interrupted his self-loathing, face twisting in disgust, “Kombucha tastes like dish soap.”

Hurt, Harry reeled back again and a shocked expression graced his face, “You don’t like kombucha?! Don’t vegans like, live for that shit?!”

“This vegan has taste,” she replied with a snarky smirk. “And besides, I’ve got to get back to the shop for work like, now.”

“Oh, okay no problem.” Harry stuttered, “Thanks again.”

“Sure thing!”

And as quickly as she’d busted in, she was gone, leaving the apartment as cold and lonely as ever. Harry frowned, feeling as if he’d blown it once again. No ‘see you tomorrow’ or ‘thanks for having me.’ Chance after chance and still he made a fool out of himself. She hadn’t even told him where she lived! Maybe the offer to come over and get his sweaters fixed had been a pity invite and she actually wanted nothing to do with him ever again. The thought made his stomach churn. Where was his customary optimism when he needed it?

Grumbling, he grabbed a fresh kombucha from the fridge, wishing it was something stronger.

Franklin and his little worm friend’s (Harry didn’t think the bugger deserved a sweet name like the alocasia did—it was still a disgusting creature that made his skin crawl) company did little to satiate the aching loneliness he was feeling throughout the following day.

Finally, a message came through his phone from an unknown number.

unknown: hey harry, it’s y/n! did you still want to come over today?

harry: howd you get my number

Even through a screen, Harry managed to blurt out the first thing that popped into his head. Fuck. Shit. She’s gonna think he’s avoiding the question! He rapidly began composing a second message, but the three little dots appeared and interrupted his flying thumbs.

y/n: your message on the answering machine at work.

by the way, that was hilarious

harry: right, well. sorry for that

and yes, id love to come over.

y/n: no worries, i saved it to listen to when i need a laugh.

haha cool here’s my address

harry: should i bring food or wine or something?

A new wave of anxiety washed over him as he looked at the address she’d sent. Now what? What would they do? Would he just drop off his sweaters and leave? Or would she invite him in? What would he say then?

y/n: just bring yourself and your sweaters, mon petit!

Harry was speechless. Much like the shop she worked at, Y/N’s apartment could rival an actual jungle. Greenery of all different shapes and shades and sizes lined the walls, and while they had the exact same floor plan, it was an entirely different world than the one Harry was living in.

Y/N, meanwhile, effortlessly sauntered deeper into her space. She looked like she belonged there, obviously, but Harry felt like a fish out of water.

“They won’t bite, you know,” Y/N giggled, noticing his apprehension. She was watching him patiently with something like fondness in her eyes. Harry felt her careful gaze on him, but the magnificent green scene around him claimed his attention—but not for long.

Gently, Y/N took his fingers between hers and pulled him deeper into her space. Harry stumbled over his feet, craning his head to look at the plants hanging from the ceiling. How the hell did she even water those?

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He looked adorable, like a child at Disneyland. She swore his eyes were actually twinkling as the greenery in the room made the color pop against his skin even more than usual.

“This is…incredible,” He said, finally turning back to meet her eyes with his own. “You’re incredible.” He set down his bag of sweaters on the floor by his feet. They could certainly wait.

Something about the praise and the way he was looking at her like she hung the moon was making Y/N absolutely swoon for the man. It was impossible not to notice how much he adored her. He looked at her the same way she looked at Delilah, at all the things she loved. Things. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually loved a person before. But this man with the holes in his sweaters and the permanent flush in his cheeks was planting himself deep in her heart.

But she’d never let him see that.

“…I make lots of my clothes myself…” She was talking about how she learned to sew from where she was sitting on her couch. Harry noticed that she’d arranged her living room differently than he had. While he had a single gray couch in the middle of the room, her sofa was against the window, inviting the evening sunset to gently warm the pale pink cushions.

“Did ya make those pants you were wearing the other day?” He asked with genuine curiosity, continuing to poke around the plants and knitted blankets and woven fruit baskets that littered the entire space.

Harry turned to face her just in time to catch her flashing a knowing smile. “Yes. Should I make a pair for you as well?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m sure your ass will look great in them, too.”

“Ah—shut up!” Harry laughed, fiddling with the leaves of one of her hanging plants. He recognized this one.

An easy smile still graced his lips as he murmured “It’s a philodendron,” half to her and half to himself. Now that some of the extensive plant research he’d been doing over the past few days had indeed stuck, it was easy for him to identify by its telltale heart shaped leaves.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, “That’s right,” she said, sounding impressed. “She’s called Delilah.”

Harry hummed, unable to focus on words when she was giving him her full attention like that.

“She’d be cute next to Franklin, don’t ya think?” She continued, tiptoeing closer to him. She stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the plant much like she’d done to Franklin a few days earlier. The fabric of his brown sweater was soft against her fingers as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry tensed. He had longed to do the same thing to her when their positions had been reversed a few days ago, but chickened out. But as always, Y/N’s actions were confident and smooth. The thought of her face against his knit-clad back and the feeling of her soft hands around his middle made his head spin.

Yes, he thought, she’s cute next to everything. She’s fucking adorable…

And again, Harry was struck with the thought that he should have seen this coming. It was such a Y/N move—the way she confidently pressed on his shoulders to sit him on the couch and proceeded to smoothly kneel over his thighs. His heart raced as she sank to his eye level, straddling his lap.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” Harry said almost absently, as if lost in them. Y/N looked kind of surprised that the words came out of his mouth. She’s sort of confused by him, by the way he makes her feel. He had this nervous, chaotic energy surrounding him, as if his mind was going a mile a minute at all times. It didn’t make any difference to him though—a racing heart didn’t stop him from enjoying the feeling of the insides of her thighs against his.

Y/N suddenly grabbed one of his flushed cheeks in her palm and turned his face to hers, letting him get a good look at her eyes. “Think so?” She grinned with a hint of her customary cockiness.

Harry nodded in response to the playful question, caught up in her smirk. He reckoned it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Once again, she proved him wrong when she licked her lip. She studied him seductively while his own eyes, of course, flicked down to where her tongue was swiping over her lips. Her tongue was pillowy, gentle, and…distracting…In the next instant, she’d pulled his face to hers and met his lips with her own.

Despite having been mentally begging for her to kiss him since the moment they’d met, he was still a little caught off guard. Quickly, he began to relish in the feeling of her warm hand holding his cheek and soft lips pressing tenderly on his. He kissed her back gently, but with urgency—as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He let his hands wander slowly from her knees up her thighs, her hips, settling comfortably on her waist. His heart skipped a beat when she pulled back a millimeter.

“Is this okay?” Harry let out a concerned whisper.

Y/N smiled effortlessly and nodded. Of course it was okay, it was better than okay.

“Thought I’d proper fucked up my chance with you ages ago,” he murmured against her lips. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her sweet lips, he was truly a fucking goner.

“I thought so too, frankly,” she laughed fondly at him, “But you reeled me in with your charm and wit...” She shook her head and furrowed her brows sarcastically, “...Your true gift for horticulture, your brilliant sewing skills, your excellent taste in beverages...” she continued lecturing him in between sweet pecks on the lips.

Harry giggled at her mock-compliments, tugging her impossibly closer by the waist. She relaxed her chest into his and easily wrapped her own arms around his neck.

“You’re an absolute pest you know?” Harry teased her, confidence growing as she caressed his skin, “I oughta get a buncha those damn bug stickers to catch you!”

“You sure about that?” She smiled bigger, eyes wide and innocent as sat back on his legs. She continued to feed him sweet words as she trailed her fingers down his sweater, the mock compliments melting into sincere ones. Harry’s own smile grew as she mumbled how she adored his soft hands and blushy cheeks and gentle disposition…

Her words were innocent, but her fingers began tracking a sinful course downward, and he twitched in his sweatpants as she cheekily palmed him through the fabric. He was putty in her hands, reduced to a pile of mush by her eyes that twinkled with playful innocence and mischief and unmistakeable lust. The soft hands and gentle, innocent praises falling from her lips were making his cock bloat and head spin. Just as he was getting into it—moaning and whimpering for her to please don’t stop…she shoved her arms between his body and the couch cushion and delivered a firm squeeze to his ass.

“That’s for calling me a pest, you pest!”

She roared with laughter and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight to her chest.

Harry’s desperate, high pitched whine quickly melted into joyous laughter. He couldn’t help it—she was so lovely and beautiful and playful and cheeky and of course, he should’ve seen a stunt like this coming. She was a pest indeed, but Harry had already decided to love her. Perhaps decided wasn’t the word—no, his love for her sprouted and grew like a strong and beautiful vine holding them together.

“Now how about I make you come for real and then fix the holes in those sweaters like you fixed the holes in my heart?”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

thank you for reading <3

talk to me about harry and y/n and franklin and delilah!

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “To learn.”

My brain wanted to write something in first person present tense today. I have no idea why, but I let it go wild. I hope you all like it :) A little bit different than my usual style :)

I just needed some time.

You ever tried putting yourself back together after war, it isn’t easy, or at least I don’t find it to be. I don’t know, call me a sissy, but I don’t actually like war., I don’t take pleasure from killing, but it is part of my job, a big part of it and if the universe continues the way it is, I am going to see war a lot more often.

I wish it didn’t affect me so much.

I wish I had a better way of handling it.

People think I’m a strong person, but they’re wrong. There are plenty of people who could take up my mantle and do a more badass job. They wouldn’t grow sick as the sight of carnage, and they wouldn’t hesitate to put the armor back on.

I’m not like that ….

I’m a coward.

If my friends knew…. Well I have no idea what they would think of me.

But that’s why I had to take some time. Since my first injury, I have never been totally alone. There was always someone there to check on me, there was always someone there to help me deal with my issues. I don’t think I ever figured out how to take care of myself, which is why I decided to take this trip, alone.

The others didn’t understand it…. well , one of them did but he still didn’t like it, but If I am being honest it will be good for them….. Especially her…. The last thing I want to do is make it so we can’t function alone.

I think its called…. Codependency or something.

I don’t know sounds like the sort of thing I’d get caught up in.

I suppose it's for all those reasons that I ended up here. 

Looking out the window, I can see Anum suspended against the sky glassy in shades of blue purple and green like a lucky marble. It almost feels as if I can reach out and touch it.

The last time I saw this place, it was receding into the distance,.

I lost a lot here, my leg, and my mind for a short time.

Now it kind of makes me laugh to think that a piece of me was left behind to fertilize some of the plant matter. Of course, it looks a bit different now that the dark season has abated. I had only ever seen the place when it was covered in ash, but it's actually quite beautiful. 

The pilot of the shuttle is pretty average, and I only feel like tightening my hands on the seatbelts just a little as we enter the atmosphere.

Fire rolls up around us as friction begins to heat up the outer hull.

Around me men and aliens alike rock in their seats.

Most of them are miners, come here to work on extracting the precious metals from below Anum’s surface.

Personally, I prefer asteroid mining, but statistics say that is more dangerous and expensive so of course corporations like it a lot less, and besides, all of this was sort of just a massive pissing contest with the GA forcing the Drev to pay for the damages caused during war. I don’t think they should, but who am I to give my opinion.

I’m just a soldier.

It doesn't take us long to leave the atmosphere, and it isn’t long before we are looking down at a massive open mining operation. The face of Anum has been scoured with a massive terraced hole overrun by machines and workers cutting into the stone. Volcanoes pipe smoke in the distance.

The scars of industry really are ugly sometimes.

I’ve seen pictures of anum during the bright season, without the machinery.

It's honestly very beautiful, but maybe I'm a bit biased. It’s the one part of home that Sunny misses, and I’ve always wanted to see it for myself. With all the times we’ve gone to earth, you think we'd have visited her home planet too, but I guess the cosmos have ust never taken us this way.

Red lights blink above the doors, and I unbuckle my harness pulling on my bag and gear with the rest of the miners, though I’m not here for the same reason they are. Boots clatter loudly on the ramp below our feet, and I head outside.

It smells clean and cool, though for a distant tang of sulfur.

You barely notice it though, less bad than visiting the hot springs at yellowstone, so your nose adjusts quickly.

The sky overhead is blue, just like on earth, though the ground beyond the launch pad is an amalgamation of rainbow color. I have to blink a few times to adjust my vision, pulling up the eyepatch to take a look from my mechanical eye and its UV filter.

“Holy shit.”

It's beautiful, the sheer amount of color is astonishing like the Lucky Charms leprechaun had some sort of horrific accident. T

he miners ignore me and continue on their way towards the docking pad. 

I don’t plan on following.

I am not here for them. I drop the patch back over my eye, and adjust the bag over my shoulder striking it out into the bush, barely looking back. No one notices, or cares, and it isn’t long before the launch field and the mining operation disappears over the horizon. Anum’s circumference is just a little smaller than that of earth with the horizon eating up anything beyond that around three miles.

Gravity is somewhat lessened too, which makes it easier as I walk.

My boots are silent against the multicolored moss at my feet, this stuff teal in color. Little white flowers spring up from the surface like clover back home. A light gust of wind rolls past me causing the flowers to ripple. I lift my head closing my eyes and allowing the wind to carry with it distant smells.

This is the same wind that Sunny would have known growing up, the same feeling under her feet.

I decide to stop a couple miles out under the meager shade of a coiltree. I have never actually seen one before now, and I can see why it’s called a coiltree. Honestly it looks like something straight out of a Dr. Seus book striped up the trunk and with branches that curl into spirals. More little whit blossoms erupt from the trunk, and between those are little white berries. 

I seem to recall those being edible.

Reaching up, I pluck one or two down from the branches and pop them into my mouth. Though the skin is white, the berries juice stains my hands purple. One of them is horrifically sour, but the other is pleasantly sweet, probably more ripe than the other, though I can’t yet tell the difference between them. 

I sit there under the tree for a little while looking out across the lonely landscape. Something is moving on the distant horizon, though I can't exactly tell what they are, a herd of some sort of animal or another. They are very tall as far as I can tell, just a little shorter than the coiltree.

As a last moment decision, I kick off my boots, and strip my socks tying them to my bag before standing.

The moss is very soft under my feet erupting upwards between my toes like a shag carpet, but you know much less hideous.

My footsteps are even softer now, though the prosthetic clatters sometimes when metal hits stone.

Sweat runs down my back,sides, and front.

I have no idea where I am going, but I know they will see me soon enough.

They have patroll parties out here, and if they aren’t watching me already, then they will be soon enough.

I keep walking heading parallel to the volcanic chain.

For the most part, my hike is uneventful, except for that time that I stepped on something slimy and wriggly. I hate to admit it but I squealed like an idiot and nearly fell over, only made worse when I looked down and saw the giant pale maggot burrowing into the moss and underground.

I nearly gagged, and my skin crawled.

Sunny had mentioned those, though I forgot their names.

THey lived primarily off of decomposing plant and animal material, very common in areas where war had continued.

I didn’t like it, but it was probably one of those nasty suckers that ate my leg.

Ew…

Gross.

I contemplated putting my boots back on, but kept walking instead. 

A group of unknown flying critters appear overhead. They have two sets of membranous wings, kind of like those of a bat, no tail though, just a long rail of fur like the streamer of a kite.

These ones are bright colors like pink and yellow.

Pretty cool.

Its nice to walk in the silence, though after a while my brain devolves into humming the star wars theme, and then singing stupid songs dancing around and hopping about from one foot to another as I badly sing the choruses to all the songs I know.

My eye of the tiger rendition probably left something to be desired, though I doubt anyone out here would know the difference.

Then comes the stupid dialogs with myself as I try to imagine what Krill Conn and Sunny would say about all this.

“Commander, I will have you know that you behavior is highly disquieting, I insist we get an MRI on your brain to make sure you have not developed a severe case of bilateral goop disease.”

“What kind of dumbass just goes wandering around with no idea where he’s going. The dumbass kind of dumbass.”

“Adam, I need you to understand that Anum is a dangerous place. I know you grew up on earth, but there are still things that can go wrong on Anum. Do you know how common surprise hot springs are. What if you fell in and died.”

Speaking of which, “Thanks imaginary Sunny, I totally forgot about that.”

Other than that, what can go wrong, it is a bright shiny day, the temperature is perfect, nothing someone like me can’t handle. Oh and is that a crunchy pink orb I see. I fucking love those, they taste so good.

I hop over the rocks, my feet warm on the moss, and reach down to pluck one of the spheres from it’s short stumpy stem.

And that's when the spear appears at my throat.

Shit.

I drop my hand back and look up to see a drev that is at least three feet taller than me, holding his massive spear orange eyes narrowed. Holy shit, I didn’t even hear her/him coming. Honestly I should have seen them coming long before anything else bright fuschia as they were.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish.”  They jab the spear at my neck, and the obsidian lined head cuts through my sin like butter. 

Oh shit, uh, my translator is not picking up shit. Guess these guys have a different accent than we’re used to. I rack my brains trying to remember how to speak what little I know, but it seems that it has all fled me when I needed it the most.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish!” I stumble backwards onto my butt and hands. Shit shit.

I hold up a hand.

“Cheeyat neahasan!” Shit I forgot to conjugate the verb. Damn I must look like an idiot yelling ‘to speak slow!’ at the top of my lungs 

However, my botched attempt at speaking seems to work, and they pull back. “Tsa dzhal Cheeyish.” 

Oh I understood that one, “Yid zhe cheeyi dzhal.” yes, yes I speak Drev, “neahasan.” Slolwy anyway. 

They pull back. I don't know why, but I’m getting a female vibe off this one. I can't tell though, Drev voices all tend to be rather deep.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish” She says it slower this time, and all around her I watch as a small group of other Drev move to flank me from the sides. They are listening very intently.

I think I understand this time, the rough translation being who are you and what are you doing.

I want to speak with your leader, “Zhe zhegingi s tsak eeda cheeyat.” My voice is halting and I am butchering the pronunciation, but they seem to get my request.

She trusts the spear at me, “Tsaee!”

I hold up my hands, “Woah woah, easy easy…. I uh.” Shit what was the word to learn, “zhe….zhengingi hak tsa…. “ Damn it… I can’t remember,  “um….. Rekazat nin dzhal….. Rekazazh.”

Oh wow, that sounds really intelligent. I wanted to learn from them but instead apparently I ‘want to know what they know.’ riveting conversationalist that I am.

She stares at me confused.

In frustration I point at her spear, “Zhe zhengingi…..zheengat?” 

Uh this was going poorly. I clearly did not know as much of their language as I thought I did.

I want to know to fight.

Wow excellent work their commander that will convince them.

They look back and forth at each other, and fire off some quick shot dialogue that leaves my head spinning.

She turns to me and lowers her spear, “s jya Hajish.”

Come with us.

Great a sentence I understood.

It was in the next few hours that I was either going to live, or I was going to die horribly. 

A pretty exciting time in my life.

And I followed.

Not like I had a choice at this point. 

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

genre: college au, teacher/student, dance instructor!hoseok, dance student! y/n, fluff 

warning(s)!!!: college stress (duh), y/n waited a couple years after high school before college for fiances, it’s not a college au unless someone works at a coffee shop lol, flirty hoseok, y/n might be a bit ditzy but in a cute way, y/n is also scared of storms 

w.count: 5.4k

summary: moving to Seoul, South Korea had been a dream of yours and when you found out that you got accept at one of the best universities, you couldn’t have been happier!  That is until you met your dance teacher.  He was handsome, but strict and he made you fall for him hard.  You never thought he would feel the same until you got locked up one rainy night. 

Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble | [Rated: PG-13] 

a/n: this is my contribution to BangtanIDX Prompt Twist! I got @pjmsgalaxy​ prompt, so I hope she (and everyone else) enjoys it! Gotta be honest, I’m not sure if I’ve ever written a teacher/student fic  and i don’t read much of them dafdlskf, there’s a first time for everything LMAO  I hope I did alright asdlfjakj (I also very very sloppily proof read this, or i proofread half of it then got lazy uhoh) 

“Where did I-” you muttered to yourself as you dug through the fourth box in your newly moved into studio apartment.  You were a reigning champ of procrastination and now you were looking for your gym duffel to place all your dance equipment in.  

Not finding it in lucky box number four, you sighed and continued your quest to find the hideously amazing holographic duffel your mother had bought for you just before your move to Seoul.  “There you are!” You exclaimed as you saw a small patch of shining, colorful silver before you grabbed it and yanked it out.  Small trinkets and pens flew from the box in its rupture out of the cardboard prison.

It had been just two days since you had signed a lease for this single, tiny, cramped apartment in Seoul.  But, it was your best choice of living because who would’ve thought that Seoul’s living expenses were through the roof.  It would do, however; since you were finally getting ready to enroll in Hanyang University in their department of dance. Part of your subconscious wasn’t able to comprehend the fact that you managed to get into a private university in Seoul, but nonetheless there you were.  

You sat on your floor, boxes all around you with your holographic duffel with rainbow striped straps on your lap.  You sighed as you felt a small flutter of nerves in your chest.  

This was what you have wanted since you realized how much you loved dancing.  Graduating, majoring in dance, going to a prestigious school.  It was all so much more dazzling than you thought it’d be.  Of course, you had to take a couple years off of high school to save up enough money to even begin thinking about college tuition, but now here you were.  Two years of hard work finally paid off as you were enrolling into education once more. 

“Oh shoot,” you hissed as you placed the duffel aside and made for other boxes.  “I need to find my alarm clock. I know I just saw it,” you muttered more as you began to once again dig around.  Unpacking fully would need to wait- it was already 7 in the evening.  Unpacking your new home would be a tomorrow job and future you’s problem.  

It was bright and early the next day as you dragged yourself out of your messy, box filled apartment with a bag of books and folders and your duffel packed full with a water bottle, proper shoes and a change of clothes.  Along with your typical dance classes of ballet and choreography (or also called composition) courses, you would be taking your standard classes as well.  Dance history and theory for example.  Those were more sit down and take notes classes, so your standard textbook and spiral notebook were absolutely a must. 

Dressed with your jeans rolled to your calf and your shirt untucked, you walked to sit patiently at the public bus stop just in time to catch the 8 o’clock morning rounds.  Getting off with a handful of other college students, you almost halted at the university gates.  Those nerves thumping in your chest again before you pulled yourself together and finally took those first steps as a twenty-year-old college student. 

You entered the spacious dance studio your choreography class was held in as you gulped.  You had just changed into your leggings and sweater with your less than brilliant shoes with just enough grip left on the soles not to slide around.  

You ducked your head instinctively as you trotted to the back of the room. The mirrors across the studio tracked your every tiptoed step as some students were stretching. Some were doing warm ups, some doing small numbers of footwork, others just standing talking or keeping to themselves until the instructor came. You were of the latter group. Taking refuge up in a corner as you sat your duffel (that happened to stand out way too much among the others) behind you and took a seat.  

As you sat, you opened your legs in front of you and did small stretches just to occupy yourself until the class began. The lump in your throat made it damn near impossible to even try and talk to someone else even though you knew you’d be working and dancing with these people through your major years. 

As you were stretching forward to grab around your foot and feel the comfortable pull in your legs, you silently hoped that the instructor you ended up with wouldn’t be a complete nightmare.  You’ve seen and read one too many dramatic stories that involve over the top teachers who have the ‘perfect or failing’ mentality.  Of course, you knew that it was all for show and production in your books or on your television screen- but nonetheless, it was stressful to think about. 

You yelped when someone tapped your shoulder, getting your attention as you were previously too lost in thought about an over dramatic, middle-age crone with a permanent frown as your teacher- may as well imagine Lady Tremaine as the instructor of your nightmares. 

When you turned, ready to apologize you nervously chuckled as you saw the handsome red haired man sat beside you with a Puma bag beside him.  Wearing gym shorts and a jacket matching his duffel with worn out shoes, he pushed his hair out of the way of his sweat band around his head.  He smiled, waving at you. 

“First year, huh?” He asked gleefully as you just nodded before clearing your throat. 

“Oh, yeah.  I just enrolled. I feel a bit awkward since I’m older than the other freshman by a couple years.  Guess that's what I get for taking a couple years after highschool though, huh?” You joked back to the stranger as he sat and crossed his legs beside you. He nodded, closing his eyes in a face of understanding. 

“Makes since though.  This school isn’t cheap, for sure.” With another nod, he opened eyes when he grinned widely again at  you.  “Don’t worry about it,” he told you with a shoulder pat.  “You look young anyways. You’ll fit right in. We twenty-somethings’ need to stick together, huh?” He asked as you looked at him with a small sparkle in your eyes.  

“You’re in your twenties?” You gasped lightly. “Oh, jeez that was rude. Sorry,” you awkwardly brush off as you mentally screech into the void.  Thankfully, he just laughed at you- but seemed blissfully unoffended.  

“I’m definitely in my twenties,” he confirmed.  He looked at the watch on his wrist as he silently opened his mouth into an ‘o’ as he started to uncross his legs to stand.  He patted your back again. “Thanks for the chat, I’m a lot less anxious now,” he told you as he started moving away.  You looked back to your lap and let out a breath.  You smiled.  If anything- he was the one who worked your anxiety away.  

Your attention was grabbed when the studio door was shut and someone clapped from the front of the studio by the wall full of mirrors. Repeated students from previous years were soon sitting down and the freshmen were all sitting rigid- just as you were in your corner. 

At the front of the class was the same guy who was just talking to you.  Setting his duffel from his shoulder to his feet by the mirror wall on the floor. He turned and placed his hands on his hips as he looked around the room of 20 something students.  Some familiar, some not.  He just smiled at them all as a group. 

“I sure hope this is everyone,” he started speaking when the small murmuring of others died down to focus on him.  “I don’t take well to students being late, so make sure to remember that.  If you’re not here on time, I’m locking that door and you’re not getting in.” He addressed, pointing to the studio door that was firmly shut. “On with formalities then,” he clapped again as he moved to start pacing back and forth along the mirrors.  “As of today, some of you had never seen me before. Why? Well, because you're new of course.” He stopped in his paces before he turned to face the class sitting on the wooden floor. “I’m Jung Hoseok, and I’m this studio’s choreography instructor. Feel free to address me casually if you’d like.” 

You nearly threw your head against the wall you leaned back against.  You were just chatting it up and talking about age with your teacher?! He was one of very few people who really didn’t need to know your age.  Not to mention, the passing thought of thinking he was an attractive man suddenly felt taboo. You’ve heard of teachers and student’s hooking up, but only in stories! 

However, by the time the class ended many things were apparent to you.  One, this class wasn’t going to have a shortage of difficulty. Hoseok ran through the curriculum and all the points and class topics he wanted to hit and practice through the semesters.  

Two, you’d definitely need to start opening up to your classmates for group and duo projects or else you wouldn’t get very far into your college career. 

Lastly three, the way Hoseok acted and carried himself like another goofy highschooler who loved dancing more than a fish loves water made him undeniably attractive and maybe- just maybe- your hopeless romantic heart thudded under your hoodie. 

It was a week into your college course that you were already feeling tired from all the running back and forth between physical classes and sit down classes.  You felt like your legs were screaming, but eventually you knew you’d get used to it. 

You were walking as you packed your books into your bag. One thing that Hoseok made clear wasn’t a joke on the first day was his ‘locking the door if you’re late’ rule.  He ended up locking 3 students out of the studio on the second day and you made sure that if it was getting close to his classes start time, you were running and weaving past students in the halls and outside in the quad.  Rules be damned. 

You had just stepped out of the bathroom where you had locked yourself inside a stall to change into your sweats and tee from your jean shorts and sweater when you bumped into your aforementioned handsome dance instructor. 

Too busy trying to pry your water bottle out of your duffel mixed with trying to shove your wadded up clothes back into the same duffel and juggling your other class’ bag with books on your shoulder all met in the demise of your shoulder at your rammed into Hoseok’s. 

Your metal thermos hit the title in the most unmelodic sound known to man as you jolt and screech in a semi-panic all in an attempt to catch it.  Before you could shove your duffel behind you with your sweater hanging half out to reach for your fallen drink in it’s metal prison, Hoseok was already bent at the knees and picking it up instead. 

You took the chance to shove your stupid clothes into your duffel completely and zip it when Hoseok was ready to had you your thermos.  All while he just stifled a chuckle you could see building in his cheeks.  

“In a rush?” He teased, knowing full well his class started in under ten minutes.  You bit back the sarcastic reply on your tongue, reminding yourself that this was your teacher- not just another student you could afford to smart off to.  

“Well, I don’t want to be locked out, so,” you shrugged, unsure if your tone made you seem snippy. Hopefully not. 

“The day I have to lock you out of the studio for being late, maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let it slide.” He teased as he placed your thermos into your palm.  “Let’s go if you’re heading that way.” 

“You’re walking with me?” 

“I don’t see why not,” he shrugged.  “I’m going to the same place and besides, I did say that we twenty-somethings need to stick together,” he joked in a lop-sided smile that pushed up one of his cheeks.  

“I wish you’d forget that I ever mentioned my age to you at all,” you groaned as he started walking and you tailed behind him until he slowed his pace to walk beside you.  You rushed into the studio in front of him to make sure you made it before him as you rushed to your designated corner before anyone could notice you walked with Hoseok to his class.  Properly tying your shoes, you rotated the ball of your worn dance shoes, listening to them squeak as they tried to grip the floors the best they could. 

You really needed a new pair soon. Your new job’s first paycheck will be used more for bills then it seemed, a new pair of shoes seemed to be in your future. As Hoseok started class and got everyone to their feet to work through some simple steps to get warmed up for a proper assignment on the horizon, you could help but once again admire his shift from friendly, giggly Hoseok who teased you in the hall to the strict and passionate dance instructor.  

“Y/n, could you run the register for just a couple more minutes?  Laura is running late, but she said she’s just around the corner stuck in that traffic jam.”  Your boss begged as you were about to clock out from your third day on the job.  It wasn’t too hard to learn the ropes since you knew how to work registers as well as you could recite the alphabet.  You just smiled, trying to wipe the crease out of her brows.  She was clearly hoping you wouldn’t say no. 

“I don’t mind,” you told her, her shoulder slackening. “I know the traffic sucks today. I can hang around a bit longer. I don’t have anything else to do tonight anyways.” With a promise to pay you for your overtime from your boss, you re-tied the apron around your waist and rushed back to the front where you joined the floundering staff already there.  “What can I help with?” You asked them as they rang up someone.  

“Just get me away from this thing,” they half whined in a weak laugh as you stepped up and began taking orders like you were programmed to do.  Working through customer after customer, you soon saw Laura rushing into the coffee shop when the bell above the door jingled.  She ran to you behind the counter.  Apologize for being late, you assure her to take her time and not to worry too much about it.  

You finally clocked out when you snagged a muffin from the display and made your way out around the counter. Your boss spoke to you for a moment across the display of pastries as Laura was already hard at work until closing hours.  You bit into your muffin as you heard someone call you.  Thinking it was a co-worker from the familiar ring it had, you turned immediately only to be met with none other than Hoseok.  

He came jogging up to you, a coffee in his hand. 

“Oh, Instructor Jung,” you greeted in shock.  He cringed as you addressed him so formally.  Almost everyone in your class had already reverted to calling him by name as he so kindly requested.  You were one of the very few stragglers who still addressed him so formally.  

“Instructor Jung? Really? That makes me sound like some old man who hates people,” he shivered.  “Just call me by name,” he told you.  Your boss tapped your shoulder, asking who this stranger with the round cute cheeks and healthy red hair was.  He took a sip of his coffee through the straw of his to-go cup. He reached his hand across the counter-top to your boss once he swallowed the caffeine.  “Jung Hoseok,” he introduced. “I actually teach Y/n’s dance choreography class in her major.” 

“Well, what a lucky girl she is,” your boss teased you with flickering eyebrows that rose and fell in quick motions. Your face bloomed as you wanted to throw the remains of your muffin at her. You were never so thankful you had so much self-restraint.  “I’ll see her tapping her feet or shuffling around in the back during her break, it’s pretty adorable.” Okay, maybe less self-restraint if she kept going. 

You cleared your throat, face hot as you were determined to escape.  “If you’re done teasing me, I’m going home now.” 

“But of course,” your boss mused.  “I’ll see you back in a couple days sweetheart,” she waved as she went back to her bossly duties of bosshood. 

“It was good seeing you-” 

“You're heading home, yeah? I’ll drive you,” Hoseok offered before you could properly attempt to depart. 

“What?” You asked in shock, nearly dropping the same muffin you wanted to throw just moments ago.  “Drive me? Oh, you don’t need to. I’ll just take the bus.” 

“Nonsense,” he told you, stepping beside you and nudging you with a friendly smile. “It’s cheaper this way.” That was true.  The word ‘cheaper’ was your favorite among the thousands in the words as a struggling college newby.  Ultimately, you ended up in the passenger seat of Hoseok’s jeep as he pulled off the curb and into the awful traffic that had previously made Laura so late to her shift.  “So, you dance at work huh?” He asked, his eyes set on the road as his fingers tapped at his steering wheel. 

“Oh god, please forget you ever heard her say that.” 

Hoseok broke into squawks of laughter that pulled at your own lips and the tension you had built up crumbled as you began to just talk.  You had even forgotten he was your instructor as you spoke to him like you were talking to a friend.  It wasn't until he was pulling up in front of your apartment building when that reality came back. 

“Get some rest tonight,” Hoseok told you before you stepped out of the jeep. “I’m gonna assign drills and dance routines tomorrow in class.” You blinked as you looked at him confused. 

“Why tell me this? Wouldn’t it have been better to wait to tell me with the rest of the class?” You asked as Hoseok just laughed lightly back to you, nudging  your thigh as you started climbing out of the jeep. 

“Have a good evening, Y/n,” he told  you, totally disregarding your previous questions, leaving you ever more confused.  You just nodded at him, now pursuing the topic any longer than you wanted to.  He watched to make sure you got up the set of outside stairs and unlocked your door before disappearing inside before he drove off. 

Just as he had told you, the next day he was assigning certain groups of students different routines or tasks to practice. Over the course of the next week you’d be free to practice your assignment given to you before delivering it to Hoseok. The concept of him not particularly instructing this project was to gauge the level of self-teaching.  He would supervise and give advice and tips if asked, but he would not be out right teaching just yet.  

You were among the group of people given a small little number running just shy of two minutes.  Focusing more on footwork and precision rather than graceful nimbleness.  A faster paced routine was something you felt wasn’t your strongest set of skills, but you enjoyed the feeling of learning nonetheless.  

You often spent your afternoons you didn’t have to work in the studio, or inside the practice rooms off the studio practicing. You had opened up to a few other students given the same routine and gotten their advice as you had given yours in return.  Hoseok had already told you a few times things you needed to keep in mind while practicing. 

This particular night, two weeks into the curriculum you had stayed just a bit too long practicing you had completely lost track of time.  In fact, you would've even stopped to notice the empty rooms and the darkening skies outside if it weren’t for the knocking at the practice room’s door.  

You had locked yourself inside one of the private, off studio’s to listen to the track assigned with your routine. Getting a feel for the beat and tapping to it for a rhythm balance over and over again made you lose track of time absolutely.  When there was a knock you just barely managed to hear over a small dip in the music track, you looked through the room door’s window to see Hoseok waving at you to come out. 

Discarding your headphones, you got up and unlocked the door. Opening it to see your instructor dressed not in his sweats and hoodies for practice, but in jeans and a tee- ready to go home for the day. He looked unfairly well dressed in casual wear.

His brow was dipped as he glanced outside just before he looked back to you in your lamp lit small room. He could hear the faint hums of your music from your headphones you left on the floor behind you. 

“Why are you still here, Y/n?” He asked. You blinked at him as if he was asking some asinine question. “Classes ended hours ago and that storm in the forecast is about to hit. You should get home,” he told you. You opened your eyes as you looked over his shoulder outside the window of the main studio. 

Indeed the skies were dark and sprinkled with raindrops of the future downpour.  How long had you been absorbed in your music? You ran back to your headphones and phone along with your bag and duffel as Hoseok moved to the front of the studio to wait at the door, but with a jiggle of the studio’s door, his face drained of color.  

A jiggle was worrisome, two was just as worrisome and three was completely worrisome with a tablespoon of panic. The door was jammed, the knob not turning and the door not budging even when Hoseok yanking or shoving on it.  

You had shut off the light in the private room, walking out into the lit studio where Hoseok was fiddling with the door.  You could hear the metal of the doorknob rattling under his palm echo in the empty dance room as you got to his side. You already feared what he was going to say when he turned to you with a tense expression. 

“Don’t tell me,” you spoke with a fallen face as he just let go of the doorknob. All routes of escape leading to utter failure.  Hoseok quickly cleared his throat as he looked around the empty room. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he spoke, his voice echoing in the large emptiness.  “Someone will make their rounds in the morning and get us out.  I have some granola bars in my bag we can eat and extra water bottles in my duffel.  We just have to tough it out for one night.” 

He tried making light of the situation to ease your tense shoulders.  He could understand though.  You were busy and lost track of time only to be told to leave by your teacher before some nasty weather hits.  Only to be now stuck in that same room he told you to leave with him.  You probably wanted to go home, take a bath and sleep in your bed. But, now you were forced to stick around in the studio until morning instead.  Talk about an impromptu and unwanted sleepover. 

However, it wasn’t the fact you had to stay in the studio that night that made you nervous.  It shockingly, it wasn’t fact you’d be sharing the space with your more than handsome dance teacher either.  It was the small rumbling you heard outside that made you anxious. 

The first ten minutes of your small sit down with Hoseok was rigid and uncomfortable for both parties.  You were nervous as you picked at your shirt’s loose threads and Hoseok was nervous because he felt like he was making you nervous.  The endless cycle of nerves was suffocating.  

“Sorry for the door,” Hoseok broke the nearly nauseating silence as he scratched behind his neck.  “I didn’t think it’d be busted. Someone must have slammed it shut and jammed it or something.” 

“It’s fine,” was your curt answer.  

Hoseok looked into the mirrors, watching your reflection- too afraid of freaking you out if he actually looked at you.  He cleared his throat.  “So, uh- how’s your routine coming?” He tried again. Maybe a different topic will result in different results. 

“It’s coming,” you shrugged. “Clearly I’m focusing on it too much,” you told him, motioning to the current situation. 

“At least you don’t work today, right?” Hoseok tried lifting the spirits in the room with a smile.  You cracked a smile back to him finally. 

“That’s-”

The sky shook with thunder, interrupting your voice as Hoseok looked outside the window.  The rain had begun as it pelted against the windows. You could hear the wind blow through the roof and along the window outside as it pushed the rain at an angle.  The instructor whistled. 

“That’s some nasty weather,” he muttered. When you didn’t respond in agreement, he looked back to you. He sat straighter when he saw you covering your ears with your palms.  “Y/n?” He called as you seemed to remember where you were as you lowered your hands immediately and placed them back on your lap.  You crossed your legs, bouncing one of them as the rain continued to hit the building and window and the thunder continued to roll. 

It was impossible for Hoseok not to see how jittery the weather got you.  He slowly scooched closer to your side after reaching for the previous mentioned granola snack he had with him.  He offers it to you, hoping to ease you.  You accept it, taking anything to keep your mind off the weather blaring outside like sirens in your head. 

“Not a storm lover, eh?” He asked, but as lightly as he could. He asked in the same way someone would cover a child with a satin blanket. It was soft and comforting the way he spoke. You shook your head as you bit into the grainy snack. “I don’t mind them so much, but I guess some people really can’t stand storms.” 

“‘Can’t help it,” you mumbled after you swallowed a bite.  “I’ve been scared of them since I was little and just never outgrew it.” 

Hoseok was soon rubbing your back as he sat next to you. You jumped every time thunder sounded and closed your eyes with a small yelp each time you caught a glimpse of lightning.  Luckily enough the storm didn’t have nearly the strength to blow out the power, so he wouldn’t need to comfort you in a black out at the very least. 

He was sitting beside you for nearly half an hour before he finally thought of something to keep your mind off the storm.  

“Y/n, dance with me,” he pitched into the empty room as he continued to rub your back.  You shot your head up to look at him, cheeks hot and mouth open in a small ‘huh?’. He just chuckled.  “We’re stuck in here anyways, so let’s dance to pass the time!” He told you he was already spinning to his feet before he grabbed your hands and started pulling you up and out of your cross-legged position. 

“You can’t be serious!” You squealed as he got you standing.  He ran over to the stereo system and hooked his phone up to it before setting a playlist.  Soon, music started pulsing through the speakers as you felt the vibrations of the bass through the floor into your bare feet after long abandoning your shoes and socks. 

He danced back to you as he grabbed your hands and started dragging you around as he laughed.  “Come on! It’ll be fun!” Pretty soon, he was twirling you around every which way he could before he actually started to properly dance.  You were reverting back to your dance brain as you started properly doing footwork and taking correct stances.  

What started as goofing off to keep your mind off the storm turned into a private study with Hoseok watching your practice the very dance that kept you here in the first place this evening. He had turned on the song assigned to you and the small group of people who were assigned the same thing as it looped over and over again. 

Drill after drill with different steps of advice and stance correction was more fun with Hoseok than you thought possible.  He would push on your back to fix your stance or twist your calf when you stepped so you wouldn’t trip.  He showed you how to dance certain parts as  you mirrored him.  

You both watched the reflections of yourselves dancing the same quick footwork number side by side over and over again. And each new drill came with bigger smiles and louder laughing.  You had actually forgotten about the storm outside over the sound of the music and Hoseok’s laughter. 

The storm had subsided well after midnight and you finally fell to the floor, ready for something close to a hardwood nap at nearly three am.  Hoseok fell next to you, still in a fit of giggles as you just breathed heavily.  

“I don't know if I’ve danced that much ever,” you panted as Hoseok rolled from his back to his stomach to look at you on your back staring at the ceiling. He rested his chin over his crossed arms on the floor as he looked at the side of your face.  He finally looked at him, feeling his stares and flinched when you looked into his eyes.  You couldn't bring yourself to look away now.  “Hoseok?” 

He smiled unconsciously bright at your casual calling. “You sound pretty saying my name,” he told you, making your face flush.  “You looked even prettier when you blush too,” he teased, kicking his feet up behind him like a five-year-old. You turned your head away from him finally as you looked back to the ceiling, not able to hide your red cheeks as he just kept admiring them.  “Hey, Y/n?” He called to which you just hummed, not trusting your voice. “Wanna go get some coffee in the morning with me?” 

You whipped your head back to look at him, seeing his smug smile on his head due to your deepening flushed skin.  You felt like you were on the brink of sweating, you were so flushed.  

“I- uh, huh?” 

“When we get freed from the practice room, let’s get coffee. I’ll cancel class so we can. I don’t want to have class after being locked in here all night anyway.” 

“I work in the afternoon though,” you lamely told him.  He just smiled away, unable to bring himself to feel upset about anything. 

“Then I’ll drop you off before work and then pick you up to take you home when you're done.” 

“That sounds like you’re trying to flirt with me.” 

“Y/n, I’m asking you on a date. Of course I’m flirting.” He deadpanned with a smirk as you shot up from laying down to sitting up.  You looked down at him laying on his stomach, that small smirk still painted on his lips as you turned away from him.  

“Well, I guess if you’re asking me,” you muttered. “I suppose I could go for some coffee,” you finished.  Hoseok had to suppress even more chuckles and teases at the sight of your smile he saw in the reflection of the studio’s mirrors when you accepted his offer.  

“Well then, I guess you better get to sleep.  We’ve got a date in the morning,” he chided as he shot up to his knees and palms, moved closer to just barely get into your line of sight to wink you. He crawled to his bag he used as a pillow as you lay across the room from him doing the same.  

How could you possibly get to sleep now? It didn’t matter, you reasoned; as you’d have coffee later to wake you up.

~END~

[tibby]

best lekws of the party?

after a long six months, here it is: a ranking of my top five favourite outfits from each member of the party. hope it was worth the wait.

mike:

5. snow ball

i went to three formal events in all thirteen years of schooling and all five educational institutions i attended so middle schoolers having a random winter dance is VERY funny and weird to me. i don't think anyone i knew at thirteen would have had a good outfit for this kind of event but mike wheeler continues to be ahead of us all.

4. denim vest

people will say to me, "but how can you think mike is a lesbian?" and i will remind them of the time she wore a denim vest and bullied a twunk into giving her what she wanted. and that will close the case without a second thought.

3. pastel polo

thinking about the text i got from a friend that just said "okay yeah this shirt is kind of a lesbian look"

2. yellow button up

i have made many jokes at the expense of stranger things and will continue to do so as long as i am alive but i must say. the talent the wardrobe team has whenever they put any character in yellow...maybe the smartest people on the crew. anyway. here's another shirt that i wish that i owned.

1. s2 sweater

could it be anything else? the sweater that immediately went to the top of every lesbian's "Fashion I Need" list. mike wheeler was NOT going to let her trauma and fear and confusion from being far more fashionable than i ever was in 7th grade.

eleven:

5. bitchin’

she said it best herself

4. denim overalls and grey sweater

i kind of completely forgot about this until i was making this list and like, how the fuck did i manage that? i would wear this outfit now. i may not be a fan of jim hopper or his wardrobe but he really was doing some good parenting when he bought his daughter this outfit

3. paint splatter shirt

oh to be a fourteen year old psychic in 1985 hanging out with my lesbian best friend at the mall and stealing some really amazing pieces of clothing like this shirt and the fun romper and hat it can be paired with.

2. yellow shirt and black pants with suspenders

see above re: my comments on yellow shirts. did you know that a store was selling this outfit for FAR too much money but i still considered buying it? kinda upset that a 14 year old has my dream wardrobe

1. colourful romper

there is a reason i've seen about 50 people in their twenties wearing the knockoffs that target and hot topic made of this: because it's GREAT. probably my favourite piece in a season full of a consistently good wardrobe. el has been wearing stuff that isn't flannel for all of one hour and still has a better eye for fashion than i do. also the fact she probably stole this is a plus.

max:

5. intro outfit

max arrived in hawkins and was like. time to prove i am the superior sibling in my family when it comes to personality, skateboarding skills, and outfits.

4. halloween costume

not only did she outshine the party when it came to halloween scares, but she also kind of outshined them when it came to outfits. how were their matching ghostbusters outfits ever going to compare?

3. braids

at fourteen, max mayfield has managed to work out something that some people spend their whole lives not knowing: when you go to deal with a demon that has possessed your shitty older stepbrother, you need to wear a memorable outfit. and where can you go wrong with purple and blue stripes on a shirt and fun little braids?

2. yellow shirt

they’re all rocking great outfits honestly, but max still wins because she’s got that great shirt and those fun denim shorts. the boys never stood a chance.

1. rainbow shirt

as someone who has been a fourteen year old lesbian with messy red hair, i can confidently say i never had the ability to rock an outfit like this. godspeed, maxine.

will: 

5. dnd wizard

will byers said You Guys Are Going To Ignore My Campaign So I Am Going To Force You To Care By Wearing The Most Theatrical Outfit Possible And Yelling At You To Wake Up. and was he wrong for that? no!

4. s2 flannel

imagine mike wheeler showing up in the best sweater of all time and everyone else at your school is like Holy Shit, Cannot Compare To That Outfit. and they would be right but my GOD did will put a valiant effort in. LOVING the colours here truly.

3. girls don’t play video games

will byers is allowed to be a misogynist because he will wear a great outfit while doing it

2. s1 outfit

i think we've established that i'm a fan of vests. but really, if you're going to be trapped in another dimension for a week, you'd want to have an awesome outfit while doing it.

1. mindflayer (0) vs a great outfit (1)

the shorts are fun! the shirt has nice colours! this is probably the least his hair has looked like he's a beatles reject! i know everyone was busy being "traumatised" or "dying" but that's no excuse for nobody complimenting him on this absolute look

lucas:

5. final s3 outfit

lucas went to say goodbye to the byers family in this great shirt to make sure they’d never forget him. and who could, in a green like that?

4. blue stripes

there’s so many stripes on this list, but none of them hold a candle to this shirt, if i’m honest. blue is my favourite colour, so i’m a little biased, but it’s a nice range of shades paired with a great jacket. 10/10. the only reason it’s not higher is because he just has consistently has a great wardrobe.

3. red turtleneck, hidden by even cooler clothes

do you know how hard it is to wear three layers and make every piece count? apparently not hard at all for mr sinclair. he always has such a coordinated outfit and i think he might be the true fashion icon of this show for that...the colours here are perfect and every piece is just nice on its own. get lucas on project runway and he'd WIN.

2. summertime style

my notes for this look just say "fun hat" which i think is all that needs to be said

1. camo bandana

he looked up Outfits To Bully Jocks In and honestly? he was successful on both fronts.

dustin:

5. three great items to create a masterpiece

cards on the table, i forgot about this outfit until now. but i never will again. we’ve established i like yellow shirts, but combined with his iconic hat and the fun jacket i talk about later? he made his point. i’m sorry dustin.

4. vest

another vest! like, if it works, it works, and this definitely does. also, i appreciate his ability to keep his hat on despite being trapped in a secret underground russian basement, for like, three days. he knew it completed the outfit. he was NOT letting that go.

3. purple hoodie

steve, how does it feel to have an outfit that doesn’t measure up to the looks of not one, but two middle schoolers?

2. spy outfit

i’m kind of annoyed we didn’t get a good look at this outfit. both of the shirts are such fun and the kind of thing that i would probably wear today. it was good of steve to wear the scoops outfit and allow dustin to have his moment. although, really, what could top those patterns?

1. snow ball

like, i’m a 22 year old lesbian, i’m not going to fight a bunch of middle schoolers for not appreciating this outfit. but c’mon. i’ve been through 8th grade. this is absolutely a step up from what the guys i knew would wear. he manages to make it work without the blazer and with steve’s ridiculous hair tips. give a king a little more respect.

[afarcryfromgotham]

A Far Cry From Gotham

Jason’s story if he didn't go back to Gotham after leaving the League

He gulps down air, sitting on his knees, face staring up to the sky. White and auburn hair plastered to his forehead. Birds circle overhead occasionally blotting out the unforgiving sun. Eyes open as a shadow falls over him. He meets the steeled grey eyes of the older woman, biting his tongue as he learned to do a lifetime ago.

“Well done Jason.” the skin wrinkles around her eyes as she shows her gratitude, “Not only did you survive the trials, but you survived the cleansing. I have nothing else I can teach you.” 

Jason raises an eyebrow, huffing a laugh as she hits him on the head before poking him in the chest, “Control your Rage, little one.”. She cups his face with a calloused hand, “One day your heart will shine brighter than that dark fury inside you, when that day comes it will be glorious.” she smiles at him “tonight you rest; tomorrow you will continue on your quest for knowledge.” she turns walking away, her robes drag over the stone floor as she hobbles away

Jason rises to his feet, stumbling on limbs that feel like jelly “I thought you said-”

“I know what I said, man child.” she glares back at him “you have learned all the all caste can teach you. I know you will not stay here, you are not one who enjoys clipped wings. You will leave tomorrow to find your father for a study in Tranquility.”

Jason scoffs as he follows after her into the mountain face 

The next day sees Jason on a jet funded by the League of Assassins, flying halfway around the world, and air dropping into the wilderness of California.

The next month is spent tracking trails that barely exist, of searching abandoned safe houses and truckstops, all signs are directing him to Hope County, Montana. A name, Richard Dragon, and a reputation, as one of the best Martial Artists in the world, is all he has as he hitchhikes into the southwest corner of Montana.

Jason squints against the sun as the truck rumbles to a stop. He swings down off the bed waving his thanks to the driver. 

He looks up at the Water Tower looming above the town, Falls End, it reads across the side. He raises a hand to block out the sun as he looks around, a pristine white church is to his right, a broken-down bus blocks half the road ahead of him, the town lays beyond it. Light glints off the broken windows of the bus.

“You look lost.” a calm voice comes from the direction of the church. An older African American man is leaning on the fence work around the church, in one hand he loosely holds a bible, the golden cross glinting light back at him “It's okay to be lost, the Lord leads us places all the time, often without us knowing where we’re going.”

“I'm looking for someone,” Jason says, shifting his backpack up onto his shoulders, more than ready to book it up the rock face to his back.

The pastor, signaled by the white-collar, and white leather-bound bible, hums in response, his eyes roaming over Jason. His body language is curious but relaxed, unafraid of him. He's open and patient and Jason doesn't trust it. “Perhaps I can help, do you have a name?”

“Mine or who I'm looking for?” Jason responds shifting in the shadow of the bus so he can see the man across the road better.

“Either. I'm Pastor Jerom Jefferies, this is my church.” he waves to the building behind him as an introduction. 

Ok well now he has to introduce himself, Jason Grumbles “I'm Jason, looking for Richard Dragon.” he sees the man stand up a little more at that, a little more guarded, a little more cautious. So he knows Richard Dragon, or at least the reputation of the man.

“You a student of his?” Jerome asks he friendly tone still his voice

“I'm his son.” Jason finds joy in how startled the other man seems by the declaration “come on in, I’ll give him a call to come down.”

Jason follows under the arch and into the church. The pews are simple and wooden, a few knitted blankets sit on them. The sunlight filters through stained glass windows painting the floor and pews a rainbow of colors. He drops into a pew where he can see the front door and the door in the back and takes a deep breath practicing the meditation Ducra had been into him. He listens to the pastors' voice in the office space not actually paying attention to what's being said. 

“His shift at the lumber yard ends in a few hours,” Jerome says and sits on the opposite side of the pew, “would you like something to eat?”

Jason looks around studying every crack in the wall, and the building in general before shrugging 

Jerome stands to motion for Jason to follow. He shoulders his bag and follows him. 

Jerome asks him questions that Jason barely answers saying he's from Gotham and well-traveled.

Jason looks up at the bar, the neon sign is out but it still shows a woman on the sign with the words SPREAD EAGLE.

The door opens and a girl a few years older then Jason is working the register, two older men are cooking and running food.

Two other patrons, one is carrying a flame thrower the other has a taser. Jason looks around, a set of stairs to his left windows along the back, he can hear a door in the back, it smells pretty good though.

“Jerome” one of the guys greets “whos your new friend.”

“Apparently, he's Dragons son.” Jerome greets

Everyone is looking at him now in surprise, Jason shifts his weight slightly “Jason, sir” he nods hello keeping his hands hooked into the backpack straps

“I can see it, Mary why don't you go help your mother upstairs.”

“But,” the girl pouts 

“Go.” he says his eyes never leaving Jason

Jason stares back, he can see the man is worried and curious. He wants to protect his family. He's got a pistol on his hip tucked under the apron, and a knife on his belt, that Jason doubts he's good enough to use.

“Gary Fairgrave, nice to meet you son.” he cleans the glass he has in hand looking to Jerome

“A table for three, Richard’ll join us when he gets off.” Jerome says

They're seated at a four-person table away from the other patrons. Jason doesn't trust any of it, but he appreciates being sat by a window

“So where’d you serve?” Gary asks as he hands them menus

Jason blinks “I don't understand.”

“Son, you picked out my peacemaker almost as soon as you walked in the door, where’d you serve?” he asks

“I didn't, I grew up on the streets in Gotham,” he responds glancing the room over again

Gary whistles “been there once, back when the Waynes were alive, it was a shit hole then, can't imagine what it's like now.” 

“Hell would be kinder,” Jason responds before looking at the menu

Two glasses of water are set down before Jason decide to just order what the Pastor orders

Jason meets Jerome's eyes and the Pastor is studying him, in return, he sees the Pastor is curious but not concerned by Jasons appearance. He's relaxed even, confident that Jason won't do anything. He's right but he doesn't know that. He bleeds a patience that so sickeningly familiar to his past life it makes Jason want to punch him, the face of an older English butler flashes across his memories. Jason breaks eye contact to look around again, counting anything that could be a weapon “so what's it like here?”

“Falls End is fairly quiet, we’re the only constructed town here, good people, reliable people. What about you?”

“Not much a good people, but I'm reliable,” Jason says with a shrug taking a sip of water before crunching down on an ice cube.

“What makes you say that?” Jerome asks

“Everyone from Gotham is a sinner of some sort, pastor,” he shrugs looking anywhere but at the man in front of him mostly out the window at the slow traffic “you do what you have to to survive.”

‘You've killed.” Jerome concludes Jason nods not supplying that he was an assassin or killed other assassins.

Burgers and fries are set in front of them, they pick at the food, Jason answering his questions.

Jason's eyes go to the door, as the man who walked past the window walks in. The older man is dressed in sawdust-covered jeans, and a sweat-stained shirt, his hair is red with streaks of grey through it, similar to Jason's dark auburn with the white stripe. He smiles talking lowly to Gary at the register before turning and walking towards them. He doesn't carry a weapon, but he doesn't need one. He reminds Jason of a tiger, all lean muscle, coiled and ready to pounce.

Jason meets his eyes, the crystal blue, like what he had before, widen slightly. He wonders what the man sees as Jason stands.

“You look so much like your mother.” is what the man says silencing the bar beside the radio. Everyone's attention is on them again

“I think I look like you.” he responds offering his hand “Jason”

“Richard, but you knew that.” he sits beside Jerome, a beer and an order of fries appear on the table soon after

Jason meets his eyes and is surprised when he can't get a read on the man, beyond the surface level. His hands are scarred from fighting and work, he's content because he has nothing to fear.

“If I’d known about you, you would have been living with me and not him.” the venom in the Russians' voice is surprising. His hand clenches around the bottle. A silent agreement of the two to not speak of the other life before till in private

Jason hums “who was she?”

“Her name is Sandra WOo-San, one of my biggest rivals in the Martial Arts scenes, she had you, then not too long after she slept with that Cain fella, and had your half-sister. I don't know what her name is or where she is, just that Cain raised her to be a fighter.” he polished off his beer and fries as he talked. The man looks at Jason 

“Come on i'll take you back to the house, and we can talk more there.” Richard hums standing tossing down a couple of bills “thanks, Jerome.”

“Of course Richard, call if you need anything. That goes for both of you.” he nods to Jason.

Jason climbs into the passenger seat of an old ford escalade that has seen better days. 

Dragon just sits there for a second “I am really sorry, I wish I knew about you before your passing. Sandra, you’d know her better as Shiva, only told me about you after you were dead in the ground.“ he shifts the truck into reverse and backs out onto the road, before pulling onto the road 

Jason looks out the window as he rides, unable to look at the older man whose regret is nearly palatable. “I was only dead for five months. no one knows what brought me back. I only got my mind back after Talia dropped me in the pit.”

He hears the shocked inhale “where. Where have you been this whole time?”

“Talia found me wandering Gotham as a Zombie. She took me back to Nana Parbat. We guessed at first at how long I'd been back. I was mindless for over a year, she said. Left her son with me. Damian is his name. He brought me out of pit madness after I was put under. I spent a year and a half on her Leviathan guard before Ras started to take notice of me. She sent me around the world to various teachers before I spent the last year training with the All Caste.” 

Jason looks over when the man doesn't say anything, there's pride radiating off him, “sounds like you've learned a lot. Why did you come here, Jerome said you asked for me by name.”

“Ducra sent me here said I need to learn tranquility” he responded 

“And Talia?” Dragon asks slowing to turn 

“She knows I'm looking for you, I haven't told her anything,” he responds 

Dragon nods “good, it'll stay that way, I have no need for the Demons to come for me.”

“Does anyone?” Jason asks and Dragon huffs a laugh

“Absolutely not. “ a small ranch house comes into view surrounded by cars and trucks in various states of disrepair. Jason climbs out looking around his eyes going to the muscle cars 

He hears Dragon grunt, turning to face the man, he's pulling metal and scrap work out of the bed of the truck. Jason moves to help but is waved off. 

“Go inside, the guest room is straight back past the kitchen across from the backdoor” Jason nods and after a moment heads inside. It's a standard hunters cabin on the interior, several sets of various deer and Moose antlers line the wall up the stairs. The kitchen counters are covered in fresh produce and cleaned dishes. He continues past into the narrow hall, the guest room as a bed, a dresser, and a safe in the closet.

Jason sits on the bed listening to the springs squeak and the birds outside. He fishes the burner phone out of his backpack looking at Talias number

“Help yourself to the kitchen kid, I'll be out in the barn if you need anything.” Dragons say after knocking on the door frame

Jason turns the phone off and stands “anything I can help with?”

Dragon smiles and waves for him to follow. Jason tosses the phone on to the bed without a second look. NEXT

[comfy-whumpee]

Alone 2

Ty lived at the flat alone for two weeks.

He settled into a kind of routine, in that time. He slept early, rose early. He opened the balcony door in the living room and sat by it to eat cereal. Then, he’d drift about for a little while, cleaning or tidying, getting it done for the day. He’d put his blanket on for its daily wash, water Jim’s herbs, and do last night’s washing up. There wasn’t much else to look after, with only him around, and soon he was wandering about just touching things, thinking. Daydreaming.

Then he’d paint. He’d get the watercolours out and make colours on blank pages, and peg them up to dry with the laundry. He mixed red and green and gave it highlights of gold; he made a rainbow without warm colours; he striped a sheet of paper with black and filled the gaps with letters. It was random, aimless, and lovely. Each one was done slowly, while he talked to himself.

Was it healthy? He had no idea. But it felt like an impulse he’d been missing for a long time.

He talked about what he was doing and what he was feeling. He talked about what he’d dreamt about in the night. On the tenth day, after a nightmare, he talked about that. It felt cleansing, like he was expelling all the ugly, churning feelings in his stomach and putting them into the fresh morning air. He talked about the clean room, the fixtures, the tiles and colours, mapping them onto a page. He talked, once, about Mistress. He talked as if Jim was there.

“I never told you about the caning,” he said thoughtfully, arranging neat rows of horizontal lines on a page. “I know you must have seen the scars. And you probably noticed my ribs.”

Ty touched the rows of bone that were sensitive, a little out of line from the days and days of being hit. He imagined Jim on the sofa, looking up from his magazine but not speaking, not wanting to interrupt or push. He remembered a few months after they’d first met, when Jim had been applying for kitchen jobs. Ty had given him tips for active listening in interviews, and he’d become good at it. Nodding, making expressions, but never interrupting.

“She did it herself, at first,” he said. He was staring at the paints as if there was someone here to avoid eye contact with. “That wasn’t so bad. But when she gave the job to – I don’t know his name, her – her personal guy, I thought of him as the Butler, though I guess he was a slave same as the rest of us – well, he was stronger than she was. I got five hits every day. It put her in a good mood.”

He looked down at the striped page. He dipped his paintbrush in the red, and began layering. He knew what he was painting, now.

“It was...it made me happy, in a way. She watched me getting beaten, and she left the others alone. The others knew it too, they – they told me, actually, before she banned them from talking to me. I was the only one she hit like that. That’s – that’s the real job of the bathroom slave.”

Red highlights through the slashing lines. He could feel them, itching on his back.

“A punching bag,” he said to himself. “I was the punching bag. They used to kick me, for luck. If I was hurting...nobody else was.”

He was safe here, he reminded himself, looking up from the table and running his eyes over the empty room. There was no mistress standing over him, telling him to curl up and bare his back to her cane. There was no collar on his neck, no tile under his knees. There was no Butler, no cane gripped in his bony fingers, waiting to bring it down.

He put the brush back in the paint water. He got up, and got his blanket down from the washing line on the balcony. He sat down on the sofa, where Jim would sit, if Jim was here. He needed a distraction now, a book, to move himself on from this strange, still moment, where he’d finally spoken.

“I’ll tell you one day,” he promised the empty air.

-

That evening, Jim came home.

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

“So Happy Together” Analysis

i don’t sleep

tl;dr: tbh not much to go off on about. i think we see a new skin for Iron Bear, one with some stripes. amara smiles, i do talk a little bit about little sisters in bioshock but tbh i think this was all just a stylistic choice lol. oh and handsome jack’s masks- probably Mount Jackmore. i don’t want to get to freaked out over jack returning, but damn gearbox lol u had me there for a second. im pretty sure it’s just a reused cut quest from bl2 that they never got to implement. 

EDIT: here’s all the cut content in bl2 (plus all the non-cut content as well for funsies). you can go to the cut quests and see the audio files for claptrap’s jackmore quest

holy shit can i just vomit all my emotions rn, they’re all good so imma do that so im rational when i start analyzing stuff okay? okay! 

holy shit that was fucking great and im really glad i tempered my expectations to something smaller than i thought because i feel bad for people expecting something huge, i was under the assumption we’d be getting a new mechanic that was like ‘choose ur +1 and they’ll be able to play the game with you if you’re both online even if they don’t have the game’ which was what someone said on reddit. altho im sure the poor company is gonna get spammed now with hate like ‘WTF YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE BUILT THIS UP AAAA’. not to lie, i was slightly disappointed it wasn’t a longer stream, but i mean if they’ve got nothing to announce, they’ve got nothing to announce and HEY! new trailer!!! gonna be combing thru on the assumption this has some easter eggs like the MoM trailer did, just in case. i thought it was a cute trailer, gearbox never explicitly said what it was gonna be, a lot people all just assumed what was gonna happen was a demo/beta which sucks so i hope this doesn’t negatively impact people’s perspective of the game. im staying off reddit for now bc when i first checked it people were pretty pissed and i dun need that negativity lmao

okay! emotions are LOCKED behind closed doors. i am shifting into study mode. here we go boys/girls/those of us who know better. haven’t done one of these in a while, let’s see if im rusty at all.

claptrap! and the skull on the chair which reminds me of tyreen’s “favorite skull”. 

tv says “we are under attack, please stand by”

and afaik claptrap is near the beginning of the game, you can see part of the recruitment center behind him when the camera pans.

im thinking there might be something in the roses, specifically the hand-drawn roses later on in the trailer. will be keeping an eye open for that.

this is specifically a jakobs brand chest. i really like the see-through aesthetic of it

intro area of the game again. possible hint to the opening cutscene? tbh i was worried that’s what we were about to get because i haven’t finished the roughs of my mock up lol

so what i didn’t notice my first time through is that you can then see claptrap, also being shown in the chest

waving up at the camera. that’s not trippy at all or anything lol

this car in the foreground (with no one driving it, mind you)

randomly combusts, looking quite like elpis in that one shot of the claptrap presents pandora trailer. wonder if that means it’s gonna ‘splode.

ohhh it spins. please no spin imma get motion sick blech

shot of some cultists. one appears to have a jetpack near the bottom right there

another explosion to the beat

the shock wave!!!! that’s awesome

shock nomads cultists are back. f in chat for our shields

another cultist seconds before he gets blown to bits

it cuts to black for a secco as it moves thru said explosion

another cultist, i assume a psycho

finally some good fucking angles

heh.

idk what i expected from someone who’s first action skill line i ever heard was them shouting MAGIC WALL!!! TAAAADAAAAAAAAH

as a side note

who is shooting those lasers

we see them coming from behind the VHs, but

there’s nothing there

SPOOKY~

they’re coming from... the wall???

tfw u shot urself in the foot on accident

amara is not amused

`is this some human custom i don’t understand yet`

also i hate that i’ve done this exact dance before when i took dance classes as a kid

with less style of course, i was like 7

moze is into it, hell yeah

this reminds me a lot of Kingsman. where all the blood is like fireworks and stuff. i wonder if that has anything to do with the psycho brainwashing. like little sisters in bioshock. they see roses instead of blood, right? maybe there’s something like that going on with the psychos

i’d certainly hope our vault hunters aren’t brainwashed, anyway.

this dude looking SHOCKED to see that tho, lmfao

i relate to this man on a spiritual level i stg

man he looks pissed

omfg lol

“um”

“i guess this is okay”

the body language in this is gold i am just having the time of my life

adsfdgfhgjhgfk

this is so cute

also in retrospect, i think this is one of the turrets we see on promethea. i wonder what it’s doing here!

moze u ok?

oh nvm she’s into it, look at her! she’s dancing! She’s Dancin’!

oooo one of the robots from the we are mayhem trailer! okay you can totally see why i think they’re jakobs, RIGHT???

iirc this is a maliwan soldier

man this is a crossover event, isn’t it?

i get it now. togetherness. i gotchu gearbox.

some maliwan ships in the sky. possibly sanc-iii on the right? or a ship of the same model as sanc-iii!

this is a magitek dropship, change my mind

eh, they both start with M, fuck it.

no idea what fl4k is doing here

mayyyybe shielding themselves from the ‘firework’/confetti shower

i like that the confetti explosions are backed up by purple, you know like eridium/slag/siren powers. seriously, maybe this is just how to cultists see us Vault Hunters and the mass murder.

at the very least, the psychos.

fl4k’s into it. i wish we knew the name of their skag, if it has one. i hope it does.

well now the lasers are coming from the other side! what the hell

moving on

i think this is the HBC from the speakers, plus im pretty sure that skull and the stained glass are the entrance to mouthpiece’s arena

we also get a different colored explosion. im paranoid jack is somehow making a return (please god no), so i’ll just note it’s the same color as his eyes.

AND the chests are vomiting out gold guns, which i think, gold-plated gear, is the cult’s way of signifying standing. which im sure is a tongue-in-cheek commentary as gearbox gives out a gold weapon pack as a pre-order bonus. no, like, it even shows up as an ad on the video

smh gearbox lmao

oh, also, the cultists are doing fuckin flying impressions

im not saying its a reference to the cultist with rakk wings on the cover, buuuut

bitch it might be lol

it’s an upside-down vault symbol! ive been trying to figure out what that is in those screens for the longest time!

back on promethea and we get to see fl4k’s spiderant in action

their skag, too, of course

the jabbermon in the back there, too! i wonder if they’re going to be shock or cryo. i would imagine shock given how they’re glowing

also i love the way the flowers look in contrast to the character models

moze is so happy aw

i love the way fl4k’s skag comes flying in and slides to a stop. such a good doggo ;-;

this is beautiful, i want it as a wallpaper

moze skipping? holy shit

100% verified the best thing i’ve ever seen

i lied. this is.

is this the fast travel station effect?

also! IB is looking a bit different

i wonder if this is a redesign or if IB is wearing a new skin moze picked out

pan over to zane who clearly doesn’t notice the being of darkness and horror in the doorway

oh also, we’re on eden-6 now. which would explain the fast travel effect

psychos dancing on the rooftops lol

oh god my eyes

nothing to really say here, i just like this screenshot

pink shields booyah

this is so fucking cute

we also get a better look at that one facility on eden-6

is that... red i see? >w> i won’t say it i won’t i won’t say it i swear i just- ATLAS

fuck

i like that zane’s clone spawns with his melee attachment

not AS excited as the real life version though

GB pls let this be a zane emote

is that a varkid? on eden-6?

wtf is a varkid doing on eden-6???

more shots of the facility btw. reminds me a lot of sanc-iii so maybe this actually is the supamax mfg construction facility like i originally thought. hmmmmmmm

ah yes, of course

holy shit what is this a reference to?

im told it’s the sex pistols

the back of the bullet turns into Athenas

pans in

amara!

enemy with a top hat on. some variation of/upgraded gravedigger? it’s like a psycho but recolored with blue pants and a top hat. you can see it fall off when amara shoots him

y’know, these guys

some rakk in the background

i am hoping bc this is a celebration of togetherness we’re seeing all enemies everywhere, not that the planets don’t have their own unique fauna.

she’s so happy omfg

oh, you want some?

Uhhh then there’s THIS sequence

they’re doing the flying thing again lmao

there’s also whatever that black blob is on the left. a spaceship maybe?

car wheel

all their eyes started glowing red. uh oh gamers

also another fast travel effect

hmmmm... zarpedon is that you??

back on pandora.

“super 87 racetrack”, maybe this is near that motorcade fast travel we saw?

huzzah! rainbows!

i do believe that’s sanctuary-iii

another ship. drop ship?

elpis is looking nice this time of year. definitely not explode-y. yet.

pret-ty sure that’s iron bear. moze is standing atop the tower lmao

also! back to it’s old paint scheme. looks like moze was using a skin or smth

we also have this. are my eyes failing me or is that a big cross on the left? could be where jack was buried. 

also i know there was cut content in bl2 about Mount Jackmore! and this looks like a Mount Jackmore to me. it’s a cut quest where claptrap asks you to basically ruin the thing. but since the quest was cut, it’s still here in bl3. maybe they’ll reintegrate the quest lol

i can’t imagine it being roland’s gravesite. because it looks like the below.

i do know we’re going to roland’s grave in bl3, but the statues don’t really match up. maybe it is and the statues were broken, or ruined or something and replaced by a cross. could be then that the gravesite was defaced with, well, the guy that killed him. 

im really hoping jack doesn’t make a return. im fine with dealing with what he set in motion, and his influence, and probably even some ECHO logs and movie trailers, but please, for the love of god, don’t actually bring him back, AI or otherwise. im really excited for the calypso twins, i’d really hate to see the focus shift back to that guy. he’s had his fingers in every borderlands game. it’s time to let him go.

idk what this is exactly. it looks like maybe that weird eye bot troy stands next to in the intro for the behind closed doors panel?

goodbye mr magical jakobs chest, it’s been real

the RC now has red drapes going down it. have those always been there? i don’t remember those

hmmmmmmmmm maybe we’re looking at it from the back 🤔

anyway, that’s all she wrote. i haven’t see any hidden morse code messages or anything yet, but if something surfaces, i’ll be sure to add it here.

[bi-bi-richie]

FUCK please write a fic based on Apartment - Modern Baseball!!!! I've been wanting that for so long but I can't write shit so yeah

I’m SO sorry this took so long!! I was doing so much but it’s here and it’s kinda long! I really liked this prompt and the song was super cool! Thank you for sending it in! Playlist, prompt list

Richie laughs to himself in his head. Of course, I tag along for some loser game night with Bill and end up falling for the cutest boy I’ve ever seen.

Game nights were boring if you ask Richie. He’s not much of a board game person so any time his friend Bill invited him to go, he’d decline. Every time he said no, Bill left a note on the table with the address to the apartment they’d be playing at, just in case he changed his mind. Whenever Richie saw it he rolled his eyes and threw it away. He doesn’t like game nights and he won’t be attending one, ever.

So, it’s kind of weird that he’s walking single file behind Bill and Stan into the apartment they share their game nights on. Truth be told, Richie lost a bet. Not to get too into the bet or anything, but Richie ended up with a sprained wrist and ankle. So now he’s happily limping into the apartment of a complete stranger.

“Geez, Big Bill, you could’ve at least told me who owns this art gallery.” He grumbles, looking at how neat the place is with expensive looking paintings hung around.

“Personally, I think it’s too small to be an art gallery, but considering that was the only insult you could think of I’d imagine you’ve never been to one,” A voice snaps at him. Richie can’t see the person who said that to him, but he sure did like the thrill of being challenged. He stepped away from behind Bill to catch a glimpse of the sharp-mouthed boy, but when his eyes landed on them, he couldn’t speak.

The boy was actually, in Richie’s opinion, not tall enough to be a man. He had neat, soft-looking brown hair that Richie almost reached out to touch. His face was something remarkable, he had the prettiest freckles dancing across his face, and his eyes. He’s never seen anyone with such beautiful, expressive doe eyes. His lips were shining from what Richie can only imagine was chapstick that was applied earlier. Not to mention the way he dressed had Richie swooning. He wore an oversized white hoodie with a rainbow stripe across it that hung off his shoulders and was tucked into his shorts. Oh god, the way these shorts had Richie feeling should be illegal. They were simple red running shorts but they were so so short and tight on the smaller figure.

Before Richie can say anything, the boy is walking away from him. It’s just as well though, Richie couldn’t muster up the courage to say a single word anyway.

He doesn’t stand there with his mouth gaping for long though, eventually, Bill slaps his hand onto Richie’s shoulder and starts dragging him towards the table where they are setting up a game. Richie continues to stay silent but he keeps his eye on new people he sees, and maybe see that boy again.

“Alright guys, this is my friend Richie,” Bill gestured to Richie beside him, “Richie this is everyone.”

“You already know Stan and Bev.” Stan gave him a glance and Bev shot him a smile.

“So this is Mike.” Mike smiled warmly and waved.

“That’s Ben.” Ben also waved from beside Mike.

“And you already met-”

“Me.” A voice speaks up from between Stan and Bev. It’s the same boy from before, he’s holding a bowl of chips with a smug look on his face. Richie can’t bring himself to say a single word once again.

“I’m Eddie, roommates with Ben.” He sticks his hand out for Richie to shake, which he does but surprisingly slowly. He feels his cheeks head up with embarrassment, he never acts this way, and from the look on Bill’s face, everyone can tell something is up. He’s gotta say something, right?

“I’m Richie, but you can call me the man of your dreams.” He blurts, yet it was smoother than he thought it would be. Despite how smooth it came out, he got a scowl from Eddie.

“Cute. If only half the population of New York didn’t hear it before me.” Richie was speechless yet again, but he didn’t have time to save himself because Eddie had moved the conversation on himself.

“Let’s just get playing.”

I still stand by what I said, Richie thought, game nights are stupid. He can practically feel the boredom seeping all throughout his skin. Scrabble was already a boring game, but watching people play it was even worse. Naturally, he wasn’t going to play himself so he couldn’t spice up the game with a few words Ben had deemed “naughty”.

“Seriously you could just make prostate right there!” He cried out watching from behind Bill.

“Beep beep Richie!” Bev retorted at him from across the table. The annoyed statement got a laugh from Eddie who sat next to her.

“Beep beep Richie? Is that like some sort of off button for you?” He snorts, but Richie barely even takes in his teasing. His small smile is so cute, the way his nose scrunches up and how his eyes smile with his mouth. It’s almost enough to take his breath away. So he says something stupid.

“There are other ways to shut me up.” He says with a playful tone. Of course, the one time he meant kissing, it sounds dirty as hell.

“That’s fucking disgusting!” He yells from his seat. He covers his face with his hands and groans in disgust. Richie’s whole face turns pink but yet again, he can’t find the words to explain himself. Then there’s a sudden outburst from Stan who has barely even spoken a word.

“That’s not how you fucking spell thief, William!” It’s spelled t-h-e-i-f.

“Like hell, it isn’t!” Bill cries out.

“He’s right, Bill.” Mike laughs out from his seat looking down at the board game.

“I after e except after c.” Ben gently corrects. Bev snickers and leans over to add a c.

“T-h-c-e-i-f.” She proclaims loudly.

“No!” Half the table yells at once. They all continued to argue until Eddie stood up from his seat and crossed his arms.

“Alright idiots,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I’m off to bed. I swear to god if any of you guys wake me up, there will be hell to pay.”

He says all of it while watching Richie with a close eye. It puts a lump in Richie’s throat that he certainly won’t swallow any time soon. Without another word, Eddie turns around and pads down a dark hallway to his room. As Richie watches him leave, he can’t help but feel he annoyed Eddie away.

…

Staring at the floor when walking is dangerous, yet Richie can’t exactly get himself to look up. He’s vaguely watching the two footsteps of Bill and Stan ahead of him but his eyes are low. He has his hands in his front pocket and his shoulders look like they’re caught mid-shrug. He kicks rocks he comes across and stays completely silent. Bill and Stan don’t say anything about it though, if anything, Bill is talking about how he thinks Mike is cute and Stan is agreeing.

Richie is thinking about a cute boy too, someone he fucked his chances up with, or that’s what he thinks. Mentally, he’s pulling at his hair and scolding himself for saying anything at all to the handsome boy. Fuck, Rich, he curses, he’s so far out of your league, the fact that I even said anything is… soul crushing.

Unless Eddie wasn’t out of his league, now that’s a thought that leaves Richie starry-eyed. Maybe… Maybe I’m out of his league, but he’s in mine, who says I can’t get there, right?

“I fucking got it!” He shouted before hitting his face into a pole.

…

Its been three days since Richie has seen Eddie. Three days of devising a plan that any normal person could’ve probably come up within three hours. But Richie, always the precise planner, went over every detail and event that could occur in which this all goes to shit. Three days, and yet in those three days, Richie did not sleep for a wink.

He laid in bed and dreamed with his eyes open about the sassy boy who he desperately wants to make out with. He’s been feeling pretty miserable about it too, he’s still got five days until the next game night. How did it get this bad? This has never happened with a crush before. No matter which crush he had in high school he still slept through every class. Now he’s in college and can’t sleep for shit over some boy. But he’s not “some boy”. He’s Eddie, and Eddie isn’t “some boy”.

He’s laying in bed now, staring at the ceiling thinking about when game night will come back around and what exactly he’ll say. He did this the night before too, he’s had imaginary conversations with Eddie that have gone as far as them making out and going on dates. Its left him with this imaginary way Eddie will respond and talk, but damn does he love it.

Richie tosses in his bed to face the wall that’s covered with band posters and a calendar from two years ago. Five more days of this and he’ll surely be asleep before he can speak a word to Eddie. He’s tried sleeping methods too, warm milk, the four-seven-eight method, relaxing music, etc.

Seriously, I won’t even know what the fuck I’ll be saying next time I see him. He groans into his pillow, why do I have to wait?

Oh… He thinks as he slowly sits up in bed, I don’t have to wait… I’m a fucking adult… Oh my god-

Then he’s shooting out of bed and goes for his hoodie.

…

Good news, Eddie’s room has a balcony. Bad news, now that he’s climbed up to the balcony, he’s not exactly sure if he can knock on the door. Ridiculous considering he had been planning their game night interactions since the moment he met him. This is way off though, it’s dark in his room and from what Richie can tell, he’s asleep. Before he climbed up he was worried it was actually Ben’s room, given that they’re roommates. He climbed the whole way up hoping and praying that it was Eddie’s room. He was reassured that it was when he saw his pair of short shorts hanging over his laundry basket. But now he’s standing out there in the cold, surrounded by potted plants in pastel blue pots, like a stalker.

Just do it, Tozier. He cruses to himself as he paces back and forth on the tiny balcony. You came all this way and now you’re just gonna bail? What are you? A stalker?

The bundle on the bed shifts causing Richie to freeze in his tracks and look in, he doesn’t meet the eyes on anyone so he can only assume Eddie was just adjusting himself. That would probably be the best chance to wake him up, given that he’s already moving around, he’d probably wake up any second out of the blue anyway.

It’s now or never Tozier. He knocks on the door. At first, it does nothing, Eddie doesn’t even stir. Then he knocks a little harder which has Eddie shifting over to face the door yet his eyes are still closed. Richie knows for a fact that he’s blushing at the sight of seeing Eddie asleep. He looks so peaceful, it’s truly the opposite of his usual firecracker self. His lips are parted and drool is leaking from one side, so it’s really punching Richie in his feelings.

He knocks for a third time and finally, Eddie opens his eyes to see a freezing beanstalk standing outside. It takes him a moment to process it in his sleepy haze, but when he catches on he jumps up out of the bed and goes to let Richie in.

“What the fuck?!” Eddie yells out when Richie throws his body inside the room.

“Has anyone ever complimented you on just how lovely you decorate that balcony?” He asks with a shit-eating grin like he didn’t just welcome himself into his crushes room.

“Has anyone ever complimented you on your stalking skills?” He retorts. There’s fire in his voice and yet Richie is sure he caught a faint sound of amusement in it.

“Well, I couldn’t just knock on the door, what if Ben opened it instead of you? How would I get to your pretty face, huh?” He plops himself on a small couch Eddie has on the side of his room facing the front of Eddie’s bed.

“Well, given that Ben is out of town for two weeks, I’d say you’d get to see me before anyone else if you just-” He curls his hand into a fist and taps it against the door Richie had just walked through- “knocked.”

“Oh, Eds!” He groaned, rolling his head to the back of the couch, “you don’t know anything about my good-natured ways!”

“I know you like to mindlessly flirt,” Eddie grumbles, still standing next to the door with his arms crossed.

“Now that, my favorite acquaintance, is some bullshit,” Richie states, propping his head up on his hands. “I don’t mindlessly flirt, I mindlessly get flustered.”

His explanation runs smoothly out of his mouth but every other feature of him is showing just how nervous he really is, like the bobbing of his leg.

“Ah I see, so you just say sexual things when you get flustered?” Eddie scoffs.

“Oh fuck! That wasn’t meant to be sexual!” Richie slaps a hand over his forehead and runs it down to his chin with a groan.

“There are other ways to shut me up, what the fuck is wrong with you!?” Eddie says after a poorly done imitation.

“I meant kissing! I swear that to you! I wouldn’t say sexual things to someone I’d wanna go on a date with first!”

“But you break into their apartments?!”

“You let me in.”

“You’re insufferable!” Eddie cries as he collapses onto the bed. Richie doesn’t say a word after that, he goes dead quiet. Now, Richie doesn’t seem like the kind of person to let feelings get the best of him. If anything, he comes off as a person who doesn’t have any feelings but joy. But any of his close friends could tell you the truth.

Richie knows he’s too much sometimes, he knows he can be annoying and quite frankly he annoys himself. Richie knows that he’s driven some girlfriends and boyfriends away because of his personality. Nobody wants to stick around with the guy who gets into a fight every week and loses more than he wins. Nobody wants someone who speaks without thinking and hopes it all blows over okay. Nobody wants the guy who cries himself to sleep because he’s scared of losing the people he loves. Nobody wants Richie.

“I’m sorry,” Richie whispers. He’s looking down at his hands, refusing to even look in the other boy’s direction. He doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks Eddie’s breath might’ve hitched or something.

“You’re sorry?” Eddie’s voice is low, not in an angry tone but more in a cautious tone. Like he doesn’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Yes.” Richie nods his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this. I should’ve just dropped it when you weren’t interested. I swear I’m not trying to force myself onto you, I just wanted a shot.”

He doesn’t hear Eddie get up, but he feels it when Eddie’s body pulls the couch under his weight. Eddie is sitting close to him, not touching but it wouldn’t be much movement if they did.

“I like you, y’know? I didn’t wanna drive you away because it happens all the time to me. I probably did though… I’m sorry, okay? That’s all.”

Then they don’t speak. It’s just the slow breathing from the two of them filling the tension-filled silence. Eddie keeps staring at Richie though, his eyes are fixed on only the taller boy with a look that Richie can’t read because he’s not looking directly at it. He has a dreading feeling in his stomach that Eddie might just kick him out anyway, refuse to believe anything he’s saying.

The longer time goes on in silence, the more Richie wants to cut the tension with a kitchen knife.

“So… you were just nervous?” Eddie asks quietly. Richie weakly nods.

“It’s pathetic… I’m sorry. Maybe I should just go-”

“Wait, Richie.” Eddie places a hand on Richie’s to stop him from making any movement. They both know Richie could get up and leave if he wanted to, but Richie wouldn’t do that. He doesn’t wanna make this worse.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have called you insufferable, or accused you of only wanting sex. I just don’t like when people take advantage of me like that, even if you didn’t.”

Eddie loudly clears his throat and sticks his hand out.

“I’m Eddie Kaspbrak, I’m twenty-seven, gay, and I’ve had a terrible past love life.” His voice is surprisingly genuine, it really does wonders to Richie’s already flipping heart. Richie takes his hand and shakes it twice.

“I’m Richie Tozier, I’m twenty-six, bi, and I have also had a terrible past love life.” Eddie giggles at that, a precious giggle that makes Richie wanna press a million kisses against his lips immediately.

“I know it’s late, but I was wondering if you’d like to hang out tomorrow night?” Eddie asks. He’s clearly blushing and doing his best to hide his face and excitement by brushing his hair out of his face. “We could make dinner or something…”

Richie nods his head as fast as he can, grinning as wide as he can, showing off his huge buck teeth and childlike glee.

“I’d like that so much.”

…

Two months later they sit on that same couch, except this time they’re making out like their lives depend on it. Richie is confident that this has been the most amazing two months of his life. He got the best boyfriend ever, a new job at a radio station, and he’s only a month away from finishing college.

Eddie pulls his head back from Richie, his lips shine with a mixture of Richie and his spit. It’s truly a breathtaking sight for the taller boy he’s straddling.

“God, I think I love you,” Eddie growls.

It doesn’t take Richie even a second to reply.

“Good, because I know I love you.”

[dictionarywrites]

The Bastard Children Of Loki Of Asgard

Set a few weeks after the finish of Brought To Justice.

Loki asks Steve to accompany him to Asgard, so that he can complete his final piece of mischief there.

7k. Complete. Family fic. Fix-it, of sorts. 

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July 22nd, 2012 10:00AM

“You broke the connection, huh?” Anthony asks. He looks at Loki with the barest hint of uncertainty in his face, and Loki slowly bows his head. Does Anthony fear him, Loki wonders? Loki stands in a suit of pastel blue, his glasses on his nose, his hair tied in a tight bun over his head. The bar through his ear is plainly visible.

“I will be taking a sojourn to Asgard today,” Loki says mildly, as if in response to the question. Every single person sat about the table stops in their place, and Loki smiles, thinly. “I have unfinished business there.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Steven asks, lowly.

“Oh, it is the only idea,” Loki replies quietly. “This is a most urgent matter and must be attended to with alacrity.” Steven had left him at X-Mansion at Loki’s behest, and as he had trained with the X-Men, his evenings had been devoted to more important considerations. Casting off the name of Loki of Asgard… A most crucial matter indeed. If he is not quick, why, if news is to travel to Odin that he has cast off his bonds…

Better Loki do this now, while the metal is hot.

“Can I come?” Steven asks.

“I would be honoured if you would stand with me,” Loki assents immediately. “It may become violent. You ought bring your shield.”

“You need back-up?” Anthony asks, and immediately the others lean in – Bruce’s expression is focused behind his spectacles, and Natasha and Clint each look focused. Wanda does not lean forward, but raises her chin higher, and looks determined. In Loki’s chest, he feels a blossom of affection bloom, and he smiles.

“Nay,” he says. “Steven will be more than enough. Too many people behind me, and Odin will suspect—” Loki trails off, and he grins. “My thanks, to all of you. But it is better than Steven and I go alone.”

“What’re you gonna do?” Clint asks.

“Something cunning.” Natasha smiles.

“Cool,” she says. “Take pictures.” Loki laughs.

“I shall endeavour to.”

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July 22nd, 2012 11:21AM

Steve pulls his helmet onto his head, strapping it under his chin. This suit is… Different. It’s darker than other iterations and the star on his chest is quietly silver against the deep blue. The only red left to his uniform is in the stripe of his shield now, and he reaches up, dragging his fingers over the star.

“This plan – I assume you have a plan?”

“I have a plan,” Loki confirms. The suit is gone. Now, he wears robes of dark blue, with silver accents— Steve turns from Loki to look at himself in the mirror, and he realises Loki has paired their colour schemes against one another. If anything, Steve looks like he’s been modelled after Loki. Loki’s hair is tied up in a bun away from the nape of his head, with three or four strands hanging down the sides of his face, and he’s put his glasses away, probably wearing the magical lenses he’d worked out from Namor’s library. And then—

The illusion fades away. Loki stands as blue as the day he was born, and more than that, Steve can see the scars on his skin. The spattered scars around his eyes are beginning to fade, probably from whatever balm he’s been rubbing on them, but the others stand in stark visibility. The pockmarks around his lips; the zig-zagging, lightning bursts of scars that ripple up the flesh of his bare arms; the heavy callouses and marks around his hands, and underneath those… The Jötunn marks are scored into Loki’s flesh, following a pattern Steve can’t quite puzzle out.

“You ever been before them without an illusion before?” Steve asks.

“Never,” Loki proclaims, and he puts out his hand. Steve takes it, feels the strange cold of Loki’s flesh against his own, and Loki inhales, tipping his head back for a second. It makes the two marks – one from a noose of chain, Steve would guess, with its visible, separate links, and the other from a thin knife cutting halfway across Loki’s neck – stand out in pale white against the blue of the skin. “But I have a plan. And no harm will come to you – no one would dare.”

“Just what are you planning to do?” Steve asks.

“I can’t tell you,” Loki murmurs. “Heimdall is listening as we speak, and were he to hear me state my plan, he would be obligated to inform the Allfather of it. Rest assured, it is nothing that will put the realm of Midgard in danger.”

The realm of Midgard, Steve thinks. And what about Asgard?

“Okay,” he says.

“Heimdall,” Loki says, more to the room at large than to Steve himself. “As you are listening—” And then, it’s like the room is tilting around them. This is completely different to Loki’s version of dimensional transitways, where the universe just neatly turns to put you somewhere else: the two of them are soaring through space, and Steve can feel the wind rushing past his hair as he lets out a whoop of delighted surprise. He can see Loki smiling, his scarred lips drawn up into the smile, and he grips tightly at Loki’s hand and then at the front of his robes, unwilling to let them go.

They come to a stop in a beautiful, high-ceilinged room, made in a perfect semi-sphere. In awe, Steve stares around at the golden walls, where heavy windows show into different areas of space. He sees galaxies, and nebulae – he sees strings of stars that shine green and blue instead of white, and he is blown away. Heimdall is tall. Damn tall. Steve turns to look at him, dressed in shining gold armour, his hands clasped loosely around a huge sword that sits in the centre of a huge, key-like mechanism.

“I see the repairs are well underway,” Loki says mildly.

“No thanks to you.”

“T’was not I who wrought the bridge to pieces with a hammer,” Loki says. Heimdall’s lip curls, and his golden eyes settle hard on Loki’s face, but Loki remains unflinching. He seems taller like this, in his Jötunn form with his robes touching the ground – Steve doesn’t miss the way Heimdall’s gaze flits to the piercing through Loki’s left ear, and the marginal shake of his head. “Do not forget, Heimdall, that I can hide all I wish from your Allsight, if I so choose. So has it been for two thousand years.” Loki’s voice is gentle, and he reaches out, touching one of his hands to Heimdall’s where it rests over the sword. This seems to surprise the man, because he stiffens, staring down at Loki’s blue fingers as if he’s never seen them before. “You have as much of my heart as Thor and the Lady Frigga, Heimdall.”

Alarm shows in the man’s face. “What brings you to Asgard?” Loki laughs.

“Foolishness,” he says, and he drags his hand away. Steve looks out to where the globe shows an archway: a bridge made of rainbow crystal crumbles into pieces, and a rough rope bridge has been made between the city and this, the Watchtower. The city is unlike anything Steve has ever seen, full of golden spires and glittering in the sun. Loki puts out his hand to Steve again, and Steve takes it.

Loki walks upon the air.

Knowing the drill, Steve follows beside him, and the two of them walk over the rope bridge as if it isn’t even there. Loki’s gait is slow and statesman-like, his robes flowing around his ankles in the soft breeze. “What’d you mean?” Steve asks lowly. It’s been… Weird, living in Brooklyn, on his own. Especially knowing he’d invited Loki to live with him in a fit of impulsive thought, and… Well. Maybe it’s sentimental of him. He keeps imagining Loki on the sofa, Loki in his bed, Loki complaining about the size of his meagre kitchen, and this is the first day he’s seen Loki in weeks, and here they are, marching on Asgard. “What you said to Heimdall?”

“It was Heimdall who found me, after my time with Svaðilfari. I told you that, that he carried me home. He walked for three days with me in his arms, clinging as desperately to him as if I was still the child who got so easily lost in the woods, even with my belly swollen, my whole form covered with blood… He didn’t want to use the Bifrost because the magic would have shocked my system further, but he could have. Heimdall…” Loki sighs, and he shifts the position of Steve’s hand in his own, linking their fingers together. “He is loyal to Asgard above all. He has betrayed countless kings in the service of Asgard as a realm, and yet he has always treated me with kindness, when I hate Asgard, and Asgard hates me. I find that very admirable.”

“You’re not gonna—” Steve stops. Loki can’t tell him, he knows, but God, it’s hard to trust Loki when the guy is… What had Bruce called him? A bag full of cats? “Do they really hate you? The Asgardians?”

“They hate magic, and women, and things they don’t understand. I flit between the three categories like a bird between trees.” Steve can see the city sprawling beneath them now, the bright golden spires of the bigger buildings, and the smaller buildings the lower classes must live in. He hears market hawkers calling out in a language just like English; he sees children running in the streets; he hears pigs and donkeys and cows—

They keep walking. Skywalking doesn’t seem to take even the barest toll on Loki, and they move easily over the main bulk of the city, beginning to descend as they reach the great, golden steps of the palace. Some of the guards stop them, and immediately Steve can hear them yelling to one another, some of them rushing inside, but no alarm bells ring.

On some level, he guesses, they were expecting this. “Keep behind me,” Loki instructs in a low voice. “Your hands clasped in front of you, never behind your back. Speak only when spoken to, and only if I give you the nod. I need to pick words very carefully, and I can’t afford to let you speak freely: I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says. The apology sounds genuine, at least, and he steps carefully onto the colourful stone in front of the palace’s entrance.

“Einherjar, I would seek an audience with his royal majesty, King Odin Allfather, Son of Bor.” This is spoken to a bearded guide with a thick beard at his chin, and the Einherjar stares at Loki for a long few moments, his grey eyes wide, before nodding. He marches with a quiet clink, clink of his armour, and Loki follows after him. His silver slippers, which come up only to his ankle and leave his pale legs showing whenever the robes ride up, make no sound on the marble floor. Steve’s boots do, though.

God, why is everything in Asgard so massive? They step into a wide throne hall with a ceiling so high Steve would need a helicopter to reach toward the top, and great pillars shine in gold, supporting the ceiling’s arches. There are great statues, showing bearded men and beautiful women…

And there, sat upon the throne, is Odin. He sits up straight, clasping a spear tightly in his right hand, and he stares imperiously down at Loki.

Loki does not bow.

“Your majesty, King Odin Allfather, Son of Bor,” Loki says. He doesn’t use his god voice, doesn’t let it thrum on the air, but the voice is princely and noble, loud and echoing in the great hall. Already, Steve can see people rushing inside – Thor, Mjölnir hanging from his hip, and a group of three men that stand around his shoulders, as well as a woman with long, dark hair. There are others, too: a tall woman that stands beside Thor – Frigga? – and impressive figures, both men and women… Gods, Steve realises. Almost all of these people are gods, and all of them are looking at Loki with horror, whispering amongst themselves, nudging one another as they go. “As your Einherjar seems too starstruck, I shall present myself: to my left is my shield-mate, Steven Rogers of Midgard. My name is Loki Skywalker, son of Böl.”

“Son of Böl?” Odin repeats, dryly. “You?”

“I,” Loki confirms. Böl, Loki has told him, means grief, sorrow…

“You’ve broken your bonds,” Odin says, and he stands. With the spear beside him, up a flight of red-carpeted steps, he seems taller than ever. “And you dare to stand here, in the throne of my ancestors, wearing that filthy skin?” Loki smiles, and Steve stands a little straighter.

“Of course,” Loki says, spreading his hands. “I come bearing great news, Son of Bor!”

“What is that?”

“Ah, but my news is not for you alone,” Loki says cheerfully. “I must call for a Council of the Gods.” The smile disappears, and Loki throws magic upon the ground: a burst of seiðr burns itself into a silver circle, spreading out so widely that Loki and Odin are left at opposite ends of it, and Steve can see Odin’s single eye widen in surprise. “I still have that right, I believe.”

Odin lifts the spear, and with a loud boom, he hits it upon the ground.

“A member of our Council has called for us to draw together,” he declares, and he looks at Loki severely. “Take your places.” Some of the Æsir move forward, taking their places at notches around the circle. The tall woman stands at Odin’s left hand, and to his right stands Thor, who looks nothing less than distraught, but holds his tongue. Steve sees a beautiful, red-haired woman that shoots Loki a look of scorn – he sees her hands have the marks of old burns on them: Freya, standing beside a man that must be her twin. A golden-haired young woman who stands hand-in-hand with a man whose beard reaches down to his waist – Iðunn, Loki’s vague education supplies, and her husband Bragi. Heimdall is suddenly beside Bragi – he must have teleported in here.

“That’s Forseti,” Loki murmurs to Steve. “He wears mistletoe in his hair because he thinks it upsets me. There, Gefjon: a goddess of fertility in her own right. There, Kvasir. Njord and Jarnaxa, and that’s Hoenir. The woman with golden hair, the Vanir… That is my wife, Sigyn. There, Tyr… And here, Ve and Vili. Just one more.” He turns back to the circle again, and feigns bafflement, rubbing at his chin. “I fear we miss one of our number!”

“Whom?” Odin demands.

“Why, Odin, Son of Bor! You have forgotten the best of us! Where is Hel?” The word thrums through the room, echoing off the golden walls, and Steve grabs hold of Loki’s shoulder to keep from falling as the ground shudders beneath them. Loki’s hand touches over Steve’s own, keeping him steady until the earthquake stops, and then—

Steve sees her at the entrance of the throne hall.

Hel is a slight woman. Her long, black hair comes in silken waves down to her hips, unbraided, and she wears black, shimmering robes… Steve is reminded of Loki’s robes as Motlordraugr, the robes he had worn to keep Steve from dying last month. Hel’s skin is even paler than Loki’s own in his Aesir form, with a blue tint to it: her lips are plumper than her father’s, and her eyes are so black Steve thinks he can see the glitter of stars in them. The other gods and goddesses are visibly unsettled, most of them leaning away from Hel as she slowly approaches the circle – cold radiates out from her like heat out of a sun, and Loki gestures for her to take her place at his right hand side, as if paralleling Thor beside Odin.

“Father,” she says. Her voice is rasping, like a winter’s wind.

“Dottir,” he replies, and his fingers brush against her shoulder – Steve doesn’t think he misses the way they pass slightly through the black-clad muscle. The centre of the circle flickers into flame, and Steve stares at its blue crackle. “Very good. So glad to see you all – glad tidings do I bring.”

“No one here trusts you, Loki,” Freya says, her voice harsh. “Get on with it.” Loki scoffs.

“Oh, as if any of us trusts each other. You think you can deceive me, my dear? You forget your place, and mine. But that is the subject on which I would speak! You notice, I suspect, that I do not wear the skin Odin painted me with when he stole me from the temple in Jötunheimr.” Odin’s lip curls. Most of the Council remains silent – each of them looks at one another, but not one of them dares to say anything, and Loki’s smile is thin where it settles on his mouth. “Come now. Most of you did know. I am not of Asgard. I am of Jötunheimr.”

“Get on with it,” Odin says.

“Temper, temper, Son of Bor. We are all equals upon this Council, are we not?” What the Hell is he doing? Steve clasps his hands a little more tightly where they’re clasped in front of his stomach: each of the gods is getting more irritable as the seconds tick by. “Nearly all of us, anyway. Well, worry not!” Loki conjures a helmet – Steve recognizes it as the helmet he had worn when he had invaded Midgard. “I stand before you today, esteemed Council, to renounce – officially – my title as Loki, Son of Odin, Husband of Sigyn, Son of Frigga, Brother of Thor.” He throws the helmet into the fire, and Steve stares as the blue flame devours it, the brassy metal sparking.

“What?” Thor demands. “What does that— What do you mean?”

“I cast off all claim to Asgard,” Loki continues, throwing folded green armour into the flame. “And all of Asgardian law. I break my bonds to all of you, and I renounce my destiny as Loki of Asgard.” Sigyn’s hands are clenched into tight fists, and Thor doesn’t think he imagines the tears welling in her almond-shaped eyes.

“Renounce your destiny?” Bragi repeats. His voice is soft and lilting. “But you cannot do that. The Norns themselves will never assent.”

“They will if the Council votes unanimously to accept my request,” Loki says. His voice is low, and his gaze is concentrated solely on Odin’s face. Odin’s jaw is clenched tightly, his grip just as tight upon the spear. “I would take what possessions I have, what scant links I have to Asgard, and I will remove myself from the annals of Asgard’s bloody future. Never will you need to bind me with chains come Ragnarok, for Ragnarok shall be irrelevant to me. Never need any of you think of me ever again.” Most of the gods look… Excited. Bragi is running his fingers through his beard; Freyr and Freya are nudging one another. Njord and Jarnaxa are looking at one another with no small amount of delight.

“If you do this,” the tall woman says, her voice quiet, “I will not be your mother.”

“My Lady Frigga, I come here to cast off the link to Asgard that has ever plagued me, ever cursed me, but not even the power of the Elders themselves could serve to tear out from me the love I hold for you, or for Thor. For any of you. Bar Freya.” Freyr laughs, and Freya looks mulishly at Loki, but Frigga’s hand is on her heart, and tears shine in her eyes. “Esteemed Council, I seek only my freedom from your law. Ever and anon have I left Asgard, and ever and anon have I been destined to return, dragged back my forces I could not resist – destiny itself. Let me break that bond. All of you have wished eagerly for the day I should leave for Niflheim, have you not? And look at the scars Asgard has given me – my mouth torn to pieces, my eyes burned…” Loki’s voice is as quiet as Frigga’s had been, entreating the council around him. “Allow me to be Loki, Son of Böl. Never shall I lay a claim upon the throne of Asgard; never shall any of you be tarred by my name. Strike my name from my record, and I shall go elsewhere.”

“And what do you demand in return for this gift you offer us, Loki?” Odin asks. Thor’s head whips around to look at his father in shock and horror, and Loki smiles.

“Are you worried, Allfather, that I shall take back that which I have gifted to those of this council? The spear Gungir, after all, was acquired by me. Bragi’s lyre, of my making. And—” Suddenly, Loki is across the room, standing in the middle of the circle, and he holds his hands out to Thor. “Even the hammer Mjölnir?” Thor looks at Loki with disgust and shame on his face, and he grips tightly at the handle of the hammer.

“You could not wield Mjölnir.” Steve can’t see Loki’s face from here, but he sees the slight tilt of his head as he stares at his brother.

“Really?” Loki asks lowly. “Then why are you afeared to hand it to me?” Before Thor can answer, Loki is back on the other side of the circle, and he chuckles, as if at his own joke. “Nay, I ask only for the freedom of this Council, and of Asgard. I would ask the boon that I be permitted my freedom to visit, but with the understanding I have as little right to the things of Asgard as any stranger.”

“Has anyone objection?” Odin asks, quietly.

“There must be some trick,” Heimdall says, quietly. “Some secreted thing Loki hides from us."

“Always,” Loki agrees. “There are thousands of things I have not told this Council. But who among us keeps not secrets from his brothers and sisters?” The silence is positively eerie. Not one of the gods will look at one another: everybody’s eyes focus on the flickering blue flames in the middle of the circle instead. “I’m afraid I cannot allow you time to deliberate. This is a one-time offer. Your duty to Asgard as a whole must come before any middling connections you feel toward me. How much better off will Asgard be, without the Mischief-Maker wreaking his havoc?”

“All in favour,” Hel rasps out, even as she raises her right hand into the air. “The right hand high.” She has been utterly silent throughout all these proceedings, and Steve has to wonder… Does she know what her father is doing? Does she know what his plan is? Almost all of the hands rise up. Heimdall looks suspiciously at Loki, but then he raises his right hand.

“Brother,” Thor begins.

“Thor,” Loki whispers. “If you love me, raise your hand.” Loki’s hand is raised as high as his daughter’s, held straight, the palm flat. Odin doesn’t seem to be voting, and there are two hold-outs – Frigga and Sigyn. Frigga stands with her hands crossed tightly over her chest, and Loki turns to her first. “My lady,” Loki says softly. “Surely you would not put the kingdom of Asgard under the Jötunn you took for a son?”

“You are my son,” Frigga declares. “You shall remain so.”

“Raise your hand, woman,” Loki snaps. “Or I shall never speak to you again.” There are gasps of shock and horror, and Frigga herself draws herself up, her lips pressing into a thin line. She stares at Loki, her blue eyes full of anger, but Loki’s expression is quietly neutral. “And Sigyn… We are husband and wife in name only. You might find another husband, better than I. Easily.” Sigyn’s dark eyes flit from Loki to Steve, and for a long few moments she says nothing.

“Is this what you desire, Loki?” Sigyn asks, softly. There is an accent to her voice, one that shows her as one of the Vanir – not of Asgard, just like Loki himself. Loki nods. “Is it worth making our children bastards, even as they are now dead?” After a long pause, Loki nods his head once more. Truly?”

“Truly,” Loki promises, softly. Sigyn slowly raises her hand. After a long moment, Frigga does the same.

“The motion passes unanimously,” Odin declares. “You are no longer Loki of Asgard, the land that raised you. You have no claim to this throne, nor to any of us as your brothers, your sisters, your family. Your bloodline dissolves; your past links are severed. You are a stranger to Asgard, now.” Odin’s spear pounds once more against the ground. The Council of the Gods is dismissed.”

“Actually,” Loki says, in a voice so soft and serpentine that Steve has to strain to hear it. He sees the fear pass over the faces of the gods, sees every one of them – even Frigga and Thor – look terrified. “There’s one more thing.” Odin’s grip tightens around the spear, his ancient knuckles turning white. “It’s a little thing, really. I promise.” Loki laughs. The scarred, blue fades away, replaced by marble white once more. “It’s… Oh, Son of Bor, it is so tiny you’ll scarcely notice it.” Loki is all but bouncing on his heels, he’s so excited, and his delight is almost infectious: it’s obvious he’s satisfied to scare all the others so much. “Bragi, my dear friend. Pray, will you tell us of the prophesied Ragnarok?”

Bragi stares at Loki, and then looks askance to the council at large. No one objects, and so Bragi says, “T’was prophesied the children of Loki would lead to Ragnarok, and thus were they taken cast to the three corners of the Yggdrasil. One bound in chains in the base of the palace; another to rule the realm of Niflheim, and the other in the great seas. And when Ragnarok—”

“Mmm, no, don’t care about that bit,” Loki says, waving his hand. “Pray, clear something up for me. What children?”

“What?”

“You say the children of Loki. Why, I have no children. I have no link to Asgard whatsoever. The children of Sigyn are retroactively fatherless, in the eyes of Asgardian law. So too are the children of the Jötunn Angrboða.” Hel gasps, her right hand covering her mouth, and Steve can see the light of understanding in her dark eyes, the joy. “The Council of the Gods once declared that the children of Loki must be ripped from his breast and taken captive, so that they could not bring about Ragnarok. Why, what a silly decision that was, when Loki has no children! Obviously, the caging of Fenrisúlfr, Jormungandr and Hel was a case of mistaken identity, and the three of them must be released immediately.”

“No.” Loki’s head whips toward Odin, and immediately he steps forward, onto the air itself. The air is abruptly crackling with power, with energy, and Steve stares as Odin take a step back from the freezing power that radiates from his son – no, not his son. From Loki.

“No?” Loki repeats, his voice thrumming with power. “Give me your reasoning, Son of Bor! Why?”

“Because they are destined to bring about Ragnarok. I shall not release them for—”

“Nay,” Loki growls. “The children of Loki are destined to bring about Ragnarok. Those bastard children are destined for naught but freedom, and you shall give it back to them.”

“You cannot deny this, Son of Bor,” Hel says with her rasping voice, laughing as she does so. Frost forms on the floor around her ghostly feet. “The stranger is right. No longer can that old prophesy bind us, for we are not the children of Loki.”

“I can prove destiny for you, if you like,” Loki whispers. “I’ll bring about Ragnarok myself.”

“Loki!” Thor growls, and Loki laughs.

“Release my children, or perish.” Steve can see it pains Odin to do so. He can see the tremble of that ancient lip, the twitch of his single remaining eye.

“I should have left you to die on that rock,” Odin says.

“Perhaps so,” Loki agrees. “Too late now, Allfather. Too late now.”

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Summer Noon

Loki is sobbing openly.

Steve stands at the edge of the bridge, watching as he stands in the centre of his children. Hel is completely solid now, pale but given a physical form, and he clutches her so tightly to his side it looks like she’s about to break; Loki’s forehead is pressed tightly to that of Fenrisúlfr’s, a great black wolf that howls low in his throat as he presses close to his father; and around them curls a gigantic snake with rippling, green coils, its tail bloody and heavy with wounds.

Tears flow freely down Loki’s cheeks, and Steve can hear his fevered apologies, hear all three of them – Jormungandr, Fenrisúlfr and Hel – talking at once as they hold tight to him, so tightly they’ll never let go.

Seiðr is flowing from Loki’s hands, and he heals the rusted, ugly wounds of shackles around Fenrisúlfr’s four ankles, his neck; he heals the ugly, tattered end of Jormungandr’s tail, healing where the snake’s own teeth had dug into it.

“Steven,” Loki says raggedly. Steve hesitates, but Loki is looking directly at him, gesturing for him to come closer. Steve turns to the side, looking at the gods and Æsir alike gathered at the city’s edge, staring down at Loki not of Asgard as he is finally reunited with the children he hasn’t seen in over a thousand years. Odin looks disgusted. Thor, though, looks… Sad. He, Sigyn and Frigga stand together, Frigga’s hands entwined with Thor’s and Sigyn’s alike.

Steve jumps down from the bridge and begins to move across the beach. He walks slowly, almost scared that one of them will lunge toward him, but they each hold their place. Jormungandr must be hundreds of feet long, his body easily twice Loki’s height in width, and Fenrisúlfr is no puppy either – he’s forty feet at the shoulder, and his skull is almost as big as Loki is in size.

“This is Steven Rogers,” Loki whispers. “Come, come, Steven, you can—” Steve walks so close he can feel the warmth that radiates from Jormungandr, and – very carefully – he lays his hand on Jormungandr’s side. Jormungandr’s scales are nearly five times to size of Steve’s hand, and Steve swallows dryly as Jormungandr leans in. His eyes are amber, and they’re huge in diameter, but the snake is… Smiling.

“Sssteven,” Jormungandr whispers. His tongue flicks out, tasting the air. “You taste of Midgard.”

“Yes,” Steve says. “I’m— I’m from New York.”

“Ah,” Jormungandr sighs, and he leans in closer: his huge nose gently butts against the top of Steve’s skull, the touch unspeakably gentle despite the greatness of his size. Loki and Hel climb out from between Jormungandr’s coils, and Hel’s hand is cool in Steve’s own as she moves to shake it.

“My name is Hel,” she says softly. “For so long I have ruled Niflheim, not quite dead, not quite living… To feel the sun on my face—” She looks up at the sky, which is brightly blue, with not a cloud in sight. “It is truly glorious. Father tells me if it were not for you, he would never have come to this scheme.” Her hands touch his cheeks, and she leans in, pressing their foreheads together for a second, and then she pulls away. She clambers onto Jormungandr’s back, laughing as he tosses her into the sand, and as they wrestle, Fenrisúlfr pads forward.

“Steven,” he declares. His wolfish jaws snap as he looks Steve in the eye: his eyes are shining silver, molten in the light. “You have the spirit of a wolf.”

“Nay,” Loki murmurs, patting his son’s flank. “A lion.” Fenrisúlfr laughs, and his silver eyes burn with flame as he does so, he bows his head, and Steve takes the cue Jormungandr and Hel had given him – awkwardly, he presses his own forehead head to the hard piece of skull between Fenrisúlfr’s eyes, feeling the great wolf’s breath hot against his feet, feeling the thick coarseness of his fur.

“You make him smile,” Fenrisúlfr whispers. “You make his heart sing.”

“I try,” Steve whispers back. Fenrisúlfr leans away, turning to run in the water with Jormungandr and Hel – despite the difference in their sizes, they move against one another naturally, and it’s obvious that despite her small size, Hel has no problem picking up either of her brothers.

Loki sniffles, quietly, and Steve holds out a handkerchief from his pocket. Loki laughs and takes it, wiping at his eyes. “Do you want to see something?” Loki asks.

“Sure,” Steve says. The illusion passes from Loki’s face. Although his mouth remains marked over with scars and pock marks, his eyes are completely clear. The acid wash that was once heavy on his eyes, gluing his eyelashes together in places, lightening the colour of his eyes… It’s all gone. “You’re kidding.”

“My vision is quite perfect,” Loki murmurs. “That destiny is shattered now. Already it had been loosening its hold, but now—” Loki slides forward, his left hand drawing around Steve’s hip, and his right hand links with Steve’s: they stand posed as if they’re about to start dancing, and the tired smile on Loki’s face shows nothing but joy. “They’re free. All three of them, free…”

“Don’t cry anymore,” Steve says in a soft voice, and Loki smiles, leaning in. Loki’s forehead is a welcome touch against Steve’s own, and he wonders what this means, exactly, why it’s so significant that all three of Loki’s children felt the need to do it with him, a complete stranger…

“I suppose I’ll try not to,” Loki replies. “Orders are orders.”

“That was— What you did. That was really smart.”

“Would that I’d thought of it centuries ago,” Loki says. He laughs, breathlessly. “I can’t believe it.”

“Loki.” Loki draws away from Steve, but not before his left hand shifts from Steve’s face and to the side of his neck instead, clutching at him protectively. Thor stands, breathing slightly heavily, on the beach. He levels Steve with a hard stare, but Loki shifts their position marginally, so that Steve is behind Loki instead of beside him. “I didn’t know. I would have— If I’d known, I would have supported it from the beginning.”

“I know,” Loki says. “You ought introduce yourself. They’ve never had the chance to know their uncle.”

“Am I their uncle, then?” Thor asks, in a whisper.

“As much as you are my brother,” Loki says. Steve steps back just in time: Thor’s arms wrap hard around Loki’s body, and Loki hugs him back tightly, clutching at the back of his hair. There’s a myriad of emotions on Loki’s face, and Steve can see the turmoil inside him. “Frigga, Heimdall, Sigyn! What on Earth are you doing up there? Come meet my children! Volstagg, Fandral, Hogu— All of you. Come now. That includes you, Sif, I can see your hesitation.”

Already a green-clad figure with blond hair is moving forward, and Loki grabs him in a tight hug, kissing both of his cheeks. They linger for just a second longer than Steve really likes, and then Loki goes to a giant of a man with red hair and a confused expression on his face, shaking his hand. Then, a Vanir man, then the woman Thor had seen earlier, with tight braids in her hair.

He hugs Frigga, and he kisses Sigyn on the mouth, but it’s chaste, and tender. Hel, Jormungandr and Fenrisúlfr are shaking the water from their forms as they come to the shore once more, and Steve watches as Hel greets Heimdall bodily, clutching at his hands and turning to introduce him to her brothers.

All three of them are stiff and slightly awkward, overly formal, but Steve can see they’re following Loki’s example – not one of them shows anger, or resentment. Steve remembers Loki’s memory, the one Loki had showed him in the lake at X-Mansion – he thinks of the Ancient-Loki’s children, who chose peace instead of revenge and died for it. Nobody’s dying here.

The sun is high in the sky as Bragi comes down to the beach with a lyre in his hand – the lyre Loki had made him? – and begins to play.

                            ----- ❅ - ✪ - ❅ - ⓁⓈ - ❅ - ✪ - ❅ -----

“You do not join the festivities,” Loki says quietly. Music drifts through the open archways, from down below in the city. The throne room is dark, with only two lanterns lit despite the rapid blanket of the night closing in, and Loki can barely see the King of Asgard sat upon his throne.

“I don’t need to see the trick to know it is coming,” Odin says, lowly. “They will destroy Asgard.”

“Nay,” Loki replies. His slippers make no noise as he comes forward, easily ascending the steps toward the throne. “Already, I have decided upon lodgings for Jormungandr and Fenrisúlfr each, on a planet far from here. Hel is uncertain, but she thinks she will take a place upon Midgard.”

“Then you will destroy Asgard.” Loki looks at his father’s face, draped in darkness, and he conjures a seat of wood for him to sit upon, his back facing the conference room, his face toward Odin himself.

“No,” Loki says. “I had a vision.”

“A vision?” Odin repeats. “You have never been a diviner before now.”

“I had to change to break the bonds I was in,” Loki says simply. “I opened myself to the heat of the multiverse, and forcibly broadened my horizons.” Odin’s eye rests heavily on Loki’s face, his lips twisted into a deep scowl. “In my vision, I met anther Loki, far removed from I. He was ancient with the weight of a billion realities… He too shucked off destiny, and thus circumvented Ragnarok.”

“There are things you know not, boy,” Odin says lowly, his voice scarce more than a growl. Loki laughs.

“Boy. Evidently, there are things you know not yourself, old man.” Loki looks out into the darkness of the hall, where some of the remaining light is shining in through the golden arches. “I never desired the throne, you know. I merely wished for your assurance that I would be as good a king as any.”

Odin is silent.

“I don’t wish to kill you,” Loki murmurs. “Nor do I want revenge upon you for the ways you have wronged me, for you have done me kindnesses, too. You said yourself t’was my birthright to die, and yet you took me in. You allowed me to ascend to the Council of the Gods; you hid the truth of Sleipnir’s birth from all, as you did the embarrassment of my own lineage. In your own, twisted way, I think you have loved me. Even in your permitting the murder of Angrboða, the secret of my birth, your sharp words… Even in those acts, I think you held a love for me, as wrong as they were.”

Odin is silent.

“But you are old, and foolish. Your bitterness and your prejudice blinds you to the truth of the universe far more than your lost eye. You are greedy, and selfish, and vengeful. You hoard so many secrets that you do not realise you can lighten the load of them upon your shoulders…” All of these things describe Loki, in one way or another. The Loki he was – the Loki he still is. The Loki he must break out of. Loki sighs, and he stands. He leans forward, and he feels Odin tilt his neck back just slightly, expecting a blade at his throat.

Loki catches the back of his grey head, and he presses their brows together. He hears Odin’s gasp, although Loki’s own eyes are tightly shut. This is an old, ancient symbol upon Asgard – peace, and family, and trust, all at once.  Odin’s tired brow is wrinkled and warm against Loki’s own, and he can smell the scent of the old man’s armours, the ointment in his hair, the oil that shines his spear.

“My son,” Odin whispers, his voice cracking with age and emotion alike.

“Father,” Loki whispers back. “All is well.” He could stab him. H could pierce Odin with his own spear, right here, murder him forevermore— Loki finds he does not wish to. How foreign is that sensation. Forgiveness. Loki draws away, and he begins to walk down the stairs.

“I do, you know.”

“Do what?” Loki says, freezing on the stair. His heart skips a beat in his chest.

Odin is silent.

                            ----- ❅ - ✪ - ❅ - ⓁⓈ - ❅ - ✪ - ❅ -----

“What happens now?” Fandral asks, quietly. He and Loki stand side by side, their elbows rested against the wall that separates the city of Asgard from the path down to the beach below. On the distant horizon, the sun is but a golden sliver as it disappears beneath the water.

“I will take my children far from here,” Loki says simply. “Jormungandr to a great planet where he can rule all, amidst a wide ocean… Fenrisúlfr to that planet too. I have one in mind, and the planet itself is populated only by beasts and wild things. The two of them would be the greatest intelligences on the planet.”

“And Hel?”

“She isn’t certain. I think she will travel somewhat, as I did in my youth.” Loki feels the weight of the day’s work upon his shoulders: the last of his mischiefs upon Asgard, and the greatest. The finality of it all cuts him to the bone. “I will back to Midgard.”

“With Steven,” Fandral murmurs, a little tease creeping into his voice, and Loki smiles.

“With Steven,” Loki agrees. Fandral sighs, looking out over the water. Fenrisúlfr is laying upon the beach, talking at length with the man in question: Steven has his shield laid over his lap, and is giving a blow-by-blow account of some tale or other. Volstagg and Hogun are listening with him, and when Fenrisúlfr laughs, his rasping chuckles mingle with Volstagg’s loud ones. “He’s a good man.”

“It seems you are, these days,” Fandral replies. Loki shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “No, I’m not. But I think…” He trails off, and he turns to meet Fandral’s gaze. “Do you think I could be?”

“Always,” Fandral says, and his hand touches Loki’s shoulder. “You can be anything, Loki. Anything you want. I’ve long-since known that.” Loki smiles. The expression is soft, and it feels as natural as anything where it settles on his face.

“Thank you, Fandral. Truly. Your faith… It means a lot to me.” Fandral’s hand draws away. “We ought return. Fenrisúlfr has just challenged Volstagg to spar with him.” Fandral claps his hands together, letting out a low sound of delight.

“Sounds like it’s time for a bet!”

                            ----- ❅ - ✪ - ❅ - ⓁⓈ - ❅ - ✪ - ❅ -----

July 27th, 2012 10:12PM

Loki sags against the wall, and Steve laughs at him as he shuts the apartment door behind them. Once they had left Asgard, it had taken a few days to settle Jormungandr and Fenrisúlfr on the planet Loki had mentioned, and then they’d spent time with Hel, showing her Loki’s library in the Fon system. Turns out Loki had had a few dozen house deeds on a few planets, and it had been—

Incredible.

Stepping on completely foreign soils, seeing all kinds of aliens, as Loki had shown Hel new choices for places to live, opened the world up to her… It had been unlike any experience Steve had ever had.

And understandably, now, Loki is absolutely exhausted.

“Come on, big guy,” Steve murmurs, and he catches Loki by the back of the knees, lifting him away from the wall. Loki is wearing a light skirt and blouse, and he is limp in Steve’s arms as Steve carries him into the bedroom.

“This is all changing before I make my home here,” Loki mumbles, his eyes closed.

“You’re not even looking at it,” Steve points out, unable not to laugh.

“I don’t need to.” But Loki’s lips are quirked into a little smile, and Steve drops him onto the bed, sliding onto the bed beside him. “My face hurts from smiling so much, this past week… I never believed I could feel such joy.” Loki pulls Steve close to him, and Steve presses his face against the hard, cool panel of Loki’s chest.  “I’m rather torn.”

“Between?”

“Ravishing you, or sleeping for fifteen hours in a row.”

“I think we can go with both,” Steve murmurs. “You know, we could do the ravishing after the sleep… Or I could wake you up seven and a half hours in, get some ravishing in there, and then go back to sleep.” Loki laughs. “Go to sleep.”

“Alright,” Loki assents. His fingers press under Steve’s light tunic – something Hel had picked out for him, that is distinctly not Earth-like, but is comfortable and warm – and slide over his spine. “Join me? Keep me warm.”

“Okay,” Steve murmurs.

                             ----- ❅ - ✪ - ❅ - ⓁⓈ - ❅ - ✪ - ❅ -----

Loki uploads no less than 347 photographs of his children to Facebook, as well as some 100 others of different planets. Natasha Romanov Likes every single one.

[redvsvblue]

Two Halves Of My Rainbow (4/?)

Hey-o. Still doing that Jerevinwood soulmate AU, this one with hints of casual Alfreyan in it.  

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, AO3 

Ryan’s familiar with guns. From training, from field duty, from the one pistol he owns to the grenade launchers they confiscate from unwieldy crew members, from rat-tat-tat-tat ammo and the thick, heavy booms of rockets, the resulting debris that skitters across the crime scenes.

He’s familiar with cars. From his own, from the FIB ones, from high-speed chases down motorways to road blockades, from cumbersome vans with too much weight on the back wheels and armoured supercars taken away to be stripped for parts, or freed of their extra cocaine baggage.

Ryan’s not quite familiar with being on the wrong side of it all.

And he’s definitely not that familiar with motorbikes.

But Alfredo apparently trusted him enough for this, swinging a leg behind Ryan on the bike and yelling at him to go as sirens whoops behind them and Ryan guns the engine, following a path he knows like the back of his hand, weaving through traffic and it’s not panic building in his throat for once but rather adrenaline, making his skin tingle and his hands sweat in the leather gloves. He can hear Alfredo shooting behind him, the pop and burst of tyres as Alfredo clears their tail – there’s bullets whizzing by them as well, tearing into the road either side of them and ricocheting off of surrounding vehicles, terrifying and thrilling all at once and Ryan can’t help but smile to himself under his helmet.

It wasn’t even a big hit, just a quick pit-stop at Ammu-Nation to liberate them of some extra guns, and here Ryan is, being chased by the same people Geoff and Michael are working with, running for his life and loving it more than he ever thought he would.

He’s clumsy on the turns, oversteering and wobbling a bit but Alfredo doesn’t seem concerned, just holds onto him tighter and whoops when they’re free of the cops, wrapping both his arms around Ryan and his gun knocking against Ryan’s hip.

Ryan is so out of his depth.

He loves it.

-- 

Ryan learns quickly. Picks up on all the little subtleties and amasses more guns and runs more jobs with Alfredo – simple two-people heists, gas stations and drug deals and the sort of shit that garners him a reputation.

He picks out Vagabond one late night over dinner with Alfredo, hooking sticky noodles around his chopsticks and toying with the cube of chicken as they talk.  

And Vagabond he becomes.

Ryan’s killed people before, sure, in the line of duty, but like this it’s almost better – no red tape and no paperwork and nothing but surety when he fires a bullet between the eyes of the guy running the local sex slavery ring the FIB have been trying to break up for months and bam, over. He’ll leave the paperwork to his former colleagues.

He hasn’t heard a fucking word about any new crime duo. He figures Gavin and Jeremy are laying low, but in the meantime Ryan’s plunged himself into a whole new lifestyle and he’s floundering a little, a constant struggle between fight and flee and life and death.

He abandons his house. Leaves a cryptic goodbye at Geoff’s door with apologies for Jack and Michael in there as well and takes up residence in a shitty little flat on the edges of Vespucci and tries not to regret.

The panic creeps in sometimes, when he’s alone and sitting on the flimsy balcony and trying to rationalise – he can’t rationalise – what, he left his stable job and stable income and his friends to go run off and become a criminal in the city he once protected? All because of some stupid fucking soulmates who gave him colour and didn’t even know him? All because of – of –

And that’s the part when Ryan’s brain shuts down and the world is big and scary and terrifying and he buries his face in his hands to muffle himself and the only little shred of hope he can use to remind himself where he is and what he’s doing is that he knows what colour the creeping vines on his balcony railing are.  

-- 

“Ryan?” Alfredo asks while they’re unloading guns in his office, dumping them unceremoniously on the desk and uncaring of the paperwork scattered over the surface.

“Yeah?” Ryan replies distractedly, fixing the precarious position of a few pistols.

“Can you hand me that blue paperclip?”

“Sure.” Without thinking, Ryan reaches for the blue plastic paperclip in the bowl and offers it up – and pauses, and looks up, and sees Alfredo’s eyes narrowed a little, his nose scrunched up as he scrutinises him.

“Lucky guess?” Ryan jokes, but it falls flat.

“I knew there was something different,” Alfredo says. “You’ve met them, haven’t you?”

Ryan carefully declines to answer, swallowing thickly and dropping the paperclip to shove his hands in his jacket pockets.

“When?” Alfredo asks. “Last time I saw you – the Dewsbury bust-up. You were still...”

Ryan still doesn’t answer.

“It’s why you left the agency, isn’t it?” Alfredo continues, softer.

“Thanks for all the help, ‘Fredo,” Ryan says quietly, and turns to go – Alfredo catches him around the arm and Ryan turns his head away, blinking back something he doesn’t want to name. Shame, fear, embarrassment, regret. That age-old panic that never fades away no matter how much he does.

“Who are they?” Alfredo asks.

“I...don’t know,” Ryan admits. “I don’t – I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me - ”

“It’s not important,” Ryan says gruffly, yanking his arm away. Alfredo grunts and claps a hand on his shoulder to hold him back, stepping around to stand beside him.

“I think it’s pretty fucking important, Agent,” Alfredo spits. “You’re different.”

“I’m a criminal.”

“Not just like that. I remember working with you before.”

“Alfredo - ”

“Who’s so important you gave up your life for them?”

Ryan – can’t answer that. Doesn’t know how to. Doesn’t even know where the fuck to begin – two idiots playing computer games irresponsibly late, two idiots laughing over some stupid inside joke Ryan wasn’t even in on, two fucking idiots getting themselves hurt and patching each other up, two stupid motherfucking idiots that crawled their stupid way into Ryan’s life and into Ryan’s mind and filled in the rest of the world like a colouring book for him and he thinks somewhat moronically that if he ever met them, the I love you would roll off his tongue easier than the hello, I’m Ryan, who are you? and isn’t that just ridiculous.

“Like I said,” Ryan says, chews up the words and spits them out much harsher than the first time. “I don’t know.”

Alfredo studies him for a moment more and then releases him, stepping back to let Ryan move freely.

“I hope they’re worth it,” he says.

I hope so, too, Ryan thinks but doesn’t say. Leaves with a gruff see you tomorrow and knocks against the doorframe on the way out.

-- 

Despite the panic, despite the unknown, despite the residual regret still crawling up Ryan’s spine and sometimes blooming across his consciousness in fitful sleep and trembling fingers, he pushes on. Learns and fights and learns some more, takes hard hits and harder falls – Alfredo’s there to catch him, and he’s there to catch him right back, almost literally most of the time.

And Ryan doesn’t lose his morals. No he fucking doesn’t – he sticks to hurting only those who deserve it, refuses any outside offers that require anything else. Alfredo’s, thankfully, on the same lines as him, tells him what bosses to avoid and what types of deals to decline, who’s good for what and who’s scum of the earth. 

Not as many people as Ryan thought, honestly.

But he sticks with Alfredo and he grows in leaps and bounds, and his turns on the bike aren’t so clumsy anymore and he’s a quicker draw on the guns – much quicker on the SMGs now, and pretty decent on sniper rifles thanks to Alfredo’s training.

Right now, during a quiet evening after a busy day, he’s on cleaning duty, leaning against the railing of his shitty little balcony and wiping a rag over his rifle – Alfredo tugs open his fridge inside and signs something – Ryan responds with a quick gesture and Alfredo nods, shooting him a thumbs up before he reaches in.

Alfredo collapses beside Ryan a minute later, cracking open a soda and passing it over as he pops the tab on his own, clinking it with a laugh against Ryan’s before drinking. The sunset stripes over Alfredo’s face in a pleasant glow, softening all his edges and bringing out the gentlest sort of warmth Ryan could only ever imagine just months ago.

“Hey, gimme a taste of that,” Alfredo asks, jerking his chin towards Ryan’s can. Ryan starts to offer it up but Alfredo leans in to catch his lips instead, grinning at Ryan’s little huff of laughter.

“Coulda just asked,” Ryan mumbles. Alfredo lightly smacks his hand and Ryan turns it palm-up to feel what Alfredo’s about to say. 

Shut up, Alfredo signs.

Shutting up, Ryan replies.

[wazafam]

In case there would ever be any doubt about Dr. Sheldon Cooper's status as a nerd (which is hard enough to even imagine), one would only need to take a look at the shirts he wears on a regular basis. Over the course of The Big Bang Theory, Sheldon builds up quite the impressive wardrobe of hundreds of shirts referencing topics ranging from the scientific to rites of science fiction passage to more niche corners of nerd fandom.

RELATED: The Big Bang Theory: 5 Things Season 1 Sheldon Would Hate About Finale Leonard (& 5 He Would Be Proud Of)

Sheldon's personality and emotional maturity in particular might change a lot over the years, but his sartorial style is a relative constant in the ever-changing world of the series. Some shirts are worn more frequently than others, but there are those that stand out as a cut above the rest.

10 D20 - "I Win"

The nerdy pursuits of Sheldon and his group of friends are varied and constantly changing with the times, but one subject matter the guys always come back to is Dungeons & Dragons.

That game gets a cheeky reference in this shirt that Sheldon often wears: a vibrant red t-shirt depicting a D20 dice, also known as an Icosahedron, with a simple, to-the-point caption — "I win." The D20 is one of the most commonly used dice in the gameplay of Dungeons & Dragons, which makes the shirt's reference one that any fellow D&D fan would understand.

9 73

This next shirt gets to the heart of Sheldon's love for the beauty of mathematics and science alike, even when the peculiarities of both fields might not excite others as much as they do him. At first glance, the shirt is both simple and confusing: a blue tee with the number 73 in a circle.

But to understand this shirt's significance, Sheldon perhaps explains it best: "The best number is 73. ... 73 is the 21st prime number. Its mirror, 37, is the 12th and its mirror, 21, is the product of multiplying — hang onto your hats — 7 and 3. ... In binary, 73 is a palindrome, 1001001, which backwards is 1001001. Exactly the same."

8 Old-Fashioned Locomotive Train

Sheldon Cooper loves many things: routines, physics, flags, sitting in the same spot on the same couch every day. But one of his biggest passions is trains in all their forms.

RELATED: The Big Bang Theory: The 10 Best Comic Book Store Scenes, Ranked

This shirt is yet another simple but perfectly in character design fitting for Sheldon's special interests: a mustard yellow tee featuring an old-fashioned locomotive train, precisely the kind Sheldon probably most wanted to conduct.

7 The Wesley Crushers

This next shirt touches on an incredibly niche area of the nerd world, an incredibly niche area of the series as a whole.

The third season episode "The Wheaton Recurrence" finds Sheldon and friends dueling against his longtime nemesis Wil Wheaton in a bowling tournament. It's during these games that Sheldon comes up with a name for his bowling team, and a shirt to match it: The Wesley Crushers. This is a  reference to Wheaton's Star Trek character and is stamped on the back of a mustard-yellow bowling shirt.

6 The Greatest American Hero

The Big Bang Theory is filled with references to plenty of mainstream nerd fare, whether Star Trek, Star Wars, Harry Potter, or countless other options. But sometimes, the series has fun with referencing lesser-known or lasting pieces of popular culture, such as this Sheldon shirt does.

This red tee features the logo of the short-lived 1980s series The Greatest American Hero. Perhaps best remembered for its theme song, "Believe It or Not," the quirky series hasn't quite held up in the pop culture consciousness in the way other superhero shows have.

5 Television Test Pattern Bars

Sheldon's love of television isn't just limited to sci-fi shows, as this frequently worn shirt makes clear. At first glance, it might not be obvious what this design refers to, largely it's more or less obsolete.

However, upon closer inspection, it becomes clear that this baby-blue tee features a representation of the classic multi-color television test pattern known as the SMPTE color bars sequence.

4 Evolution of Man and Robot

Sheldon may look down on biology in all its forms, and quite regularly, too, but that doesn't stop him from enjoying a shirt design that humorously depicts the evolution of humans — with a twist.

RELATED: The Big Bang Theory: 10 Relationships That Fans Were Rooting For From The Start (5 That Surprised Everyone)

The red shirt design makes use of the traditional series of human development but takes things one step further as the yellow graphic design concludes with human's technological evolution into a robot.

3 The Vitruvian Superman

Yet another of Sheldon's best shirts perfectly blends his favorite worlds of science, science fiction, and superheroes. Though occasionally hard to distinguish due to the lightness of the print on the dark blue background, this design is an homage to Leonardo da Vinci's Vitruvian Man.

But rather than the traditional depiction of human body proportions, this design includes a crossover with the hero Superman, cape and all, in the pose of the Vitruvian Man.

2 Melting Rubik's Cube

One of the more artistic designs in all of Sheldon's wardrobe, this shirt is also honestly just plain cool to look at it.

Still in keeping with Sheldon's love of all things nerdy, this plain black tee features everyone's favorite brain-twisting toy, the Rubik's cube. But, as can be clearly seen from the vibrant rainbow puddle at the bottom, the Rubik's cube is somehow artfully melting with no clear cause.

1 The Flash

Sheldon Cooper loves many superheroes, but from the beginning of the series, it's clear that he has a true favorite in the Flash. It makes sense, given the Flash's own background as a scientist, and Sheldon's pride in his line of work.

Therefore, it's only natural that perhaps the most iconic shirt to be associated with his character is this simple athletic red tee featuring the traditional logo of the Flash — a yellow lightning bolt emblazed on a white circle background — with white ringed stripes on the sleeves.

NEXT: The Big Bang Theory: Each Main Character's Best & Worst Workplace Decision

The Big Bang Theory: Sheldon's 10 Best T-Shirts, Ranked from https://ift.tt/3czpVtR

[kinghoranshit]

This is Love (LT) Ch 18

Word Count: 1,976

The soft cry of Daisy filled my ears through the baby monitor. Despite how exhausted I felt, I didn't complain as I started to get up. Someone gently touched my upper arm and I looked back at Louis.

"I've got her, my love. You sleep."

I only nodded and laid my head back down on the pillow. But it was no secret I wouldn't sleep until she stopped crying. Soon, I could hear Louis talking to her.

"What are you crying about little love? Mum's trying to sleep. I'm trying. You should try... Are you hun- oh no."

I laughed to myself. Daisy hadn't stopped her fit as Louis talked, and she only quieted down some after he changed her.

Louis's soft, slightly raspy voice flowed through the baby monitor as he sang.

"You can't go to bed without a cup of tea. Maybe that's the reason you talk in your sleep..."

A smile spread on my lips as I drifted off into sleep.

***

Louis carried Daisy in his arms as our feet sunk in the sand. I held her carrier and the duffle with diapers, bottles, spit up rags, extra binkies, clothes, a few toys, wipes, etc. We had everything.

Despite how inseparable Katie and I were before, we hadn't seen each other in a few weeks. Of course, her and Niall visited to see Daisy, but I didn't leave the house much with her. Nothing had quieted down yet; not in this fandom. I'd still left a couple times with Lou for store runs and coffee outings. That was it though. With Katie so close, we didn't need to risk anything.

Our risk level today went out to a cliff and jumped off with no hesitation. The four of us met up at the beach. Well, not four, there are five, couldn't forget the little one, and technically it was six if you counted the little one in Katie.

I made a funny face at Katie when we made eye contact. As we hugged, Katie asked, "Whose bright idea was this?"

"I think I recall it being yours, love."

"I don't know. We're too exposed, and I look like a fucking whale."

Louis scoffed, "Watch the mouth."

Niall came over, furrowing his eyebrows. "She can't understand our words yet. Also, your mouth is worse." He wrapped his arms around Katie and pecked her on the cheek. "And you're a beautiful whale."

Katie rolled her eyes. "Okay, Horan."

"I'm telling the truth, love," he scoffed.

"Yeah? Sometimes lying would be better."

"I said you were beautiful!"

Katie pointed a finger at him. "But you still said I was a whale."

Now, Niall rolled his eyes.

I laughed a little at their banter. Daisy made sounds of delight and it made me laugh even more. I turned around to look at her and I babied, "Are uncle Niall and aunt Katie funny? Are they? Yes, they are!"

Her blue-green eyes lit up and she smiled. For three months old, she definitely showed her emotions. It was pretty easy to tell. And she had some hair grown in; it looked red at the moment. Lou and I had a bet going on as to what color her hair would actually be. Of course, I was betting it'd be red and curly like mine.

I reached out to take her from Lou and cradled her in my arms. Immediately, her hands clung onto one of the shoulder straps of my red, white polka dotted one-piece. It was better that than my hair, which I put up into a ponytail for two reasons--cause it's hot out and so she didn't pull on it.

"Hey, Lou, love, could you please lay out the blanket?" I asked as I bounced Daisy a bit and held her tiny hand so she wouldn't grip my swimsuit anymore. She had started to reach for the bow in the front.

"Of course," he replied, giving me a kiss on the cheek. I blushed. You'd think I'd get over the open affection in public.

Lou pulled out the neon rainbow striped blanket and laid it out onto the sand, so perfectly there weren't any wrinkles. He was such a perfectionist sometimes. I may or may not have been the one to push him to get better with cleaning up after himself. It was a good change to make.

I noticed Niall had taken off his white tee and only wore his sunset patterned trunks now. He looked at Katie and gestured towards the water. "You coming?"

Katie gave him a look. "You honestly think- Yes, I'm coming."

Niall only smirked and shook his head. He took her hand in his and they walked out to the shore.

"How long do you think she'll stay there?" Lou asked, pulling his own black tee off and only wore his navy blue trunks.

I shrugged. "I can't imagine long. The water is probably gonna be too cold for her. Also, she won't be able to take the wave hits."

He nodded with a slight smirk. "I give her ten minutes. Max."

"I say five," I bargained.

We looked at each other and stated, "Deal."

I settled Daisy and I on the blanket. Daisy sat in her yellow, white polka dot bikini with a small blow up beach ball in her hands and I sat down with a book. Not just any book-- Katie's. It was called 'Grey Eyes'. I remembered planning this one with her, but she never let me read it. And then she went out and actually got it published. That little noob.

So far, it was a really good read. Of course, I vaguely remember what was going to happen. For the most part, it was all a surprise to me.

"Damn that water is cold," Katie cursed as she grabbed a towel from their bag and wrapped herself up in it.

I looked over at Louis. "I win."

He rolled his eyes. "You, two, lovelies enjoy your chat." He jogged out to the water where Niall was messing around with this other guy he must have just met. Oh wait, no, it was Ollie. I didn't know he was coming. That's alright. They'd have their lad time.

"What was that all about?"

"Lou and I made a bet as to how long you'd stay in the water. He said ten and I gave you five."

Katie bust out laughing. "I would've done the same if it was you."

I shook my head. "I wouldn't have gone in. I'm not going in today either."

"That's so true. And you wore a swimsuit why then?" Katie cocked a brow.

"Katie, it's a beach. You're supposed to wear a swimsuit."

She rolled her eyes. "Not always."

Daisy gurgled a little and made a slight cry.

"Oh no, is someone not happy?" Katie babied and reached over as well as she could to pick her up. She rested Daisy on her belly so she was sitting on it. Katie continued to make faces and she pretended to bite her fingers, which made Daisy giggle now.

I smiled. "You seem to have the parenting down already."

"Pft. Just this part. Taking care of Daisy for her first couple weeks was a disaster. I'm terrified for when our son is finally here."

"You got dis!" I cheered, making her laugh under her breath.

"Thanks, Mads. You know... This didn't turn out to be that bad of an idea."

My eyes went wide and I shook a finger at her. "Don't say that! Now it's gonna end badly."

"You're being paranoid," Katie replied, beginning to bounce Daisy now. "Plus, with one call, there will be guards here in five minutes flat."

"Right..." I nodded slowly. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Katie brought Harold. I smiled widely and reached out to grab his case. Then I proceeded to take him out.

Katie made a gasp of excitement. "Is mom going to sing to you?"

I smirked a little. "No... Aunt Katie is."

Katie looked like she lost a little bit of blood. "What?"

"Sing Fairytale, please? I'll strum. I remember," I stated, giving her an encouraging smile.

I could tell she was debating it. Then she looked as if she told herself a mental 'fuck it' and she nodded. "Alright."

As Katie started to sing the first words, I came in with the strumming.

"It was like a fairy tale. I was your princess. You were my prince.

Along came the wicked witch. Cast a spell on you. Locked me up in the tower.

If you could break the curse. You'd come get me out. Be my night in shining armor.

Oh, how sweet, our story. We were meant to be. Alas, you don't remember me..."

She sung the rest, smiling, and made 'oops' faces when she thought it was an awful note. I noticed a few people start to crowd around and Katie held Daisy closer to her. Both for protection and comfort.

The small crowd of beach people clapped when the song came to an end and we said our thank yous. They didn't stay long after that, which was okay. They didn't seem to be adequate fans of One Direction where they'd know who we were. They just wanted to stop to hear the song, that's it.

I started to play 'Somewhere in Neverland' as Katie built a sandcastle "with" Daisy. Daisy sat next to her and watched, playing with some of the sand herself. She didn't know what it was and it intrigued her enough to get her hands dirty. A bath would be in order later anyways.

The rest of the day was quiet as the boys did their thing and we did ours. Eventually, we all gathered to head back to Lou and I's house for dinner.

"Mads, we should make your chocolate chip cookies too. I'm craving them so bad," Katie stated, starting to set the bag strap on her shoulder, but Niall ended up grabbing it from her. Her response was to roll her eyes and she mumbled, "I had it."

I made a small laugh. "Of course."

There was a time back when we were going to school and it was the summer before our second year, where Katie was on mother nature. She was so irritable that week. Normally, she didn't really take anyone's shit, but that week she really wasn't. Especially with the two kids we used to nanny. That day though, I was nannying them, and she texted me. I decided to make some chocolate chip cookies for her, and the boys. I couldn't get a recipe to load, so I made up my own. My family picked them apart, but Katie loved them and everyone else loved them.

My smile faded as I heard a side comment from a guy walking by us.

"Look. It's the pregnant cunt and the Irish dickhead. Their baby will look like a little gremlin, I'm sure of it."

My eyes went wide and I gasped a little. My gaze went straight to the two who were the target. Katie and Niall's faces were emotionless and they continued to walk. Didn't say a single word. Honestly, I was shocked. I almost wanted to say something.

"Hey! That wasn't very nice, dickbag!"

My statement made no difference as the guy was already gone.

Katie snickered, "Dickbag?"

"Aren't you upset?" I asked, genuinely concerned, and also didn't want to talk about the horrible name I came up with in a matter of seconds.

"Not really." She shrugged. "Like you put it, he's a dickbag." She looked over at Niall, smirking a bit. "Besides, if he does turn out to look like a little gremlin, he'll be the cutest damn gremlin ever."

Niall stifled back a laugh as we finished packing up the vehicles.

Next: Ch 19

[Masterlist]

[futarou]

@98east

⠁⠍⠕⠗⠽┆ He’d been following a stripe of royal blue paint precariously. Feet dipping into yellow and red. It just felt like the right thing to do. Tarou must have found it funny or endearing or sentimental, he heard his voice only a few paces behind him. Kamon knew so very well that he was loved. “ Ti amo, bambin, ” He heard the camera shutter sound again. Smiled. His love moved slowly through the cramped alley, he imagined stopping every few inches to admire every the art sprawling across the neighborhood. The colorful patterns. The excited two dimensional creatures eager to greet them. Tarou was processing. Letting inspiration bubble to the surface, surely waiting until he was back in Osaka with his watercolors and markers. Six months and some weeks. Lord, it’d been beautiful. “ Are you happy? ”

There was nothing more amusing to Tarou than watching his lover wander around. Whether he realized it or not, Kamon had a childlike air to him. His steps were light, almost as if he couldn’t bear to leave a mark behind, but he did. Much like the seeds of a dandelion that blew in the wind, with each step he took, he left behind a piece of himself. Kamon made each place he visited brighter with his presence. At least, that is what tarou thought, and the artist held no shame in bias. 

Tarou smiled warmly behind his camera at the sentiment spoken and continued on with his exploration. Before Kamon, he had not seen much of the world. Tarou could count on one hand the places he visited while growing up, which made this trip to Taiwan all the more exciting. Kamon had instilled in him a renewed sense of wonder. Now his days stuck at home were filled with a deep-seated longing to see the clouds from a window seat again. Pictures in google images did Rainbow Village no justice, and there was far too little space in camera to capture all that he wanted to save. “Very happy!” He said with a grin, pointing at a particularly busy corner,  “Look at this little guy over here! Can you imagine how long it took to do all of that? The dream that must have sparked this! I’m in awe.”