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[adore-laur]

PINK VELVET

— an italian getaway full of sunshine & surprises 💗

——

SALERNO, ITALY

Crystalline blue waters sparkling under the sunshine, ornate architecture standing high among the cliffsides, and mopeds burning rubber on the cobblestone streets — it's all pure, unadulterated bliss. 

To share that bliss with your boyfriend enhances the experience. Both of you have been staying at a villa rental for a few days already, and the surrounding greenery and stucco buildings on the precipice rocks of the Tyrrhenian Sea bring a much-needed sense of privacy. It's a getaway for your third anniversary with Harry, and while it's a more extended vacation than usual — two weeks to be exact — the mellow atmosphere makes you feel like you could stay in Italy forever.

Harry had said he plans on wooing you with the foreign language, having bought a book filled with romantic phrases at the airport's souvenir shop. You're dreading it because once he starts, he won't stop. 

It's four in the afternoon, and you're getting ready to kayak off the Amalfi Coast. The heat will be sweltering, especially out on the open water, so you put on jean shorts over your swim bottoms, leaving just your bikini top on. Harry is standing in the doorway of the master bathroom and tying the strings of his swim trunks. He's wearing a white tank top that you know will be taken off eventually. 

A cooler packed with snacks and drinks is by the front door. Once you reach downtown, the journey to the kayak launch takes about fifteen minutes, so you and Harry will drive in the vintage Cadillac he insisted on renting and park on the street before walking the rest of the way. 

"Ready?" Harry asks, giving your ass two pats as he walks by. 

"I guess," you say flatly. 

He smirks and steals a scrunchie from your makeup bag to put around his wrist. "That's enough outta you." 

You hoist the cooler over your shoulder, sling a beach towel over the other, and then stroll through the spacious villa rooms toward the door. When you open it, a blast of humid air immediately hits you. Harry brushes past you while jingling the car keys, a drawstring backpack on his back. You lock the door before heading toward the luxurious car you don't want to know the cost of. 

Harry swings the passenger door open for you like a gentleman, but you decide to mess with him by ignoring his gesture. You open the driver's side door and smoothly crawl over the console until you're in the passenger seat. Harry slowly shakes his head, reaching forward to pluck your bikini strap with his fingers and lightly snap it against your skin. He throws his backpack under the seat before sliding behind the steering wheel.

The engine roars to life. Harry's hand places itself on your headrest, his body twisting around so he can carefully reverse down the circular driveway. You take his hand and set your interlocked fingers in your lap. He glances at you and smiles, his hair blowing beautifully in the wind and the sun casting a golden hue over his face.

When you arrive downtown, Harry parks along a random street. He removes his hand from yours and claps once. "Okay, here's the game plan. I reckon we should rent one kayak for both of us. It'll be cheaper and more fun, and we can work together like—"

"Absolutely not." 

"Pardon?" 

"I'm sorry, but being stuck in a kayak with you sounds like my personal hell. You'll somehow manage to tip us over or get us lost." Harry can live in a world of his own sometimes. You really want to avoid ending up stranded in the deep, expansive ocean.

"Baby," he says, looking at you with wounded eyes. "What if I drift away and we lose each other? I need you. I'll do all the work while you sit back and relax." 

You can't possibly say no to him when he looks like a literal Greek god basking in the Italian sun, his lips irresistibly pink against his tanned skin. 

"Fine," you surrender. "I'm not letting you do all the work, though, because we'll probably end up in a different country. Also, I'm sitting in the front seat. Deal?" 

"Sì, amore mio," he says, passion dripping off his tongue. "And, um... I may have already paid for just one kayak when I booked the reservation yesterday. Well, singular ticket." 

"You're unbelievable." Stepping out of the car, you stretch your limbs while Harry puts his backpack on and grabs the cooler. You hold onto his free hand and begin walking to the beach. Many people are out and about — vendors selling gourmet cuisine, kids riding bicycles through the alleyways, and tourists stopping at attractions.

At the waterfront, kayaks are stacked on racks, shimmering under the sun. Since Harry booked a reservation ahead of time, he walks toward the man who appears to be running the operation. You watch them shake hands and converse. Harry knows enough basic Italian to navigate through any language barrier yet to come. 

Eventually, they both wander over to you, and the man caresses your hand and kisses your cheek. You smile and shyly mutter an Italian greeting. The man then excitedly leads you to the kayaks, taking a maroon two-seater from the bottom rack and dragging it toward the water. While following him, you notice only a few people are on the beach today. Only a couple of other occupied kayaks drift in the ocean, looking like mere silhouettes from where you stand. 

"You know the rules, yes?" asks the man as he pushes the front of the kayak into the shallow water. 

"Yes, I've done this before. I'll teach this guy," you say, pointing at Harry while draping your towel over the seat. 

Harry smiles mindlessly, placing the cooler and backpack between the two seats. The man briefly leaves to grab life jackets and oars, leaving you and Harry to get into the kayak. You have him go first since he's sitting in the back. As you grip the side so it doesn't rock, he removes his tank top and hands it to you before steadily climbing in and bending his long legs to fit in the restrictive space. 

You're next. Harry plants his foot in the sand to keep the kayak balanced and then offers his hand to grasp. Once you're situated, you sigh relievedly.

"This sucks," Harry mutters, nudging his knee against your back. "I can't even see your face." 

"You could've solved that problem if you got us two kayaks."

"Yeah, but I wanted to be close to you," he says, sliding his shoes off. "Just look behind you every once in a while so I can get my fix." 

You laugh, looking at the water that endlessly expands past the horizon. The man comes back with two life jackets, and you clip one to your body as sturdy oars are placed across your and Harry's laps. The man gives a thumbs up and slowly maneuvers the kayak away from the shoreline.

"Grazie!" Harry shouts, waving to him as the both of you drift further from land. 

"Ciao! Stai al sicuro!" he shouts back. 

The destination to the cliffs is a short one, their imminent height visible far out to the left of the coastal village. You begin paddling, alternating sides to stay on a straight path, while Harry opens the cooler to take out a package of crackers and a bottle of water.

"Please tell me you know how to properly paddle," you say, taking a break to sip some water while the kayak naturally rides the ripples.

"Obviously. I'm kind of the backbone of this kayak, so I know what I'm doing," Harry replies with faux confidence, still not picking up the paddle. 

"That's funny, considering I'm literally doing all the work right now. Get to paddling, or I won't turn around so you can get your fix." 

"Calmati, bellissima," he murmurs, snatching a handful of crackers before finally helping.

A comfortable silence ensues, only the sound of water splashing and the slight creak of the kayak that comes with each movement. Harry whistles a tune every so often. A content smile pulls at your lips.

However, it doesn't last long because if there's one thing Harry loves to do, it's acting like a child sometimes. He disrupts the long stretch of peace by pretending to tip over the kayak by rocking slightly back and forth in his seat, gasping like he's not doing it. 

"Harry, I swear to God," you say with a nervous undertone, holding on to the edge of the kayak so you don't actually tip over into the vast ocean infested with who knows what. "You're like a five-year-old!" 

He listens immediately, apparently noticing your anxiousness. He settles back in his seat, stretching his legs next to your body and nudging his foot against your thigh as a silent apology.

"It wasn't me. I think there's an animal under us," he says, playing with your hair to distract you. It doesn't help, because you know that there are probably massive creatures swimming below you. He knows one of your biggest fears is drowning, so he should feel like a jerk now after his little charade.

"Are you going to sit there and braid my hair, or can you help me get to our destination before it gets dark?" 

"Sorry," he murmurs, grabbing his paddle and helping you turn left toward the rock formations. They aren't too far away now.

"We're almost there," you encourage softly, dialing back your slight attitude. Harry is quiet, so you turn around to see him pouting softly. "Why are you sulking?"

"Am I being annoying? You sound annoyed with me," he says, avoiding eye contact and setting his paddle down.

"No, honey. I just want to get there as quickly as we can and swim for a bit. We have wine tasting after this, so we can't dilly-dally." 

"Dilly-dally," he repeats, laughing at your chosen phrase. "Okay, I'll behave. Kiss?" 

You capture his lips with yours, tasting the tomato basil crackers he's been munching on. He kisses you back and reaches his hand to push some hair behind your ear. Pulling away, you see the cliffs only about two hundred feet away. You both begin paddling again in serene silence. 

At the side of the cliff, you stop the kayak by a large, flat rock that peeks out of the water and appears safe to stand on. You hold onto it, the waves more active in this area, and tie some rope around the post provided. You assume it's there for other kayakers and cliff divers to take advantage of. 

Once you climb onto the rock, you offer your hand to assist Harry and pull him up. "We made it!" you exclaim, lifting your arms. Harry high-fives both of your hands and bends down to kiss you. 

You unclip your life jacket, then do the same for Harry. Free from obstruction, your arms naturally loop around his waist for a hug. He embraces you, his large hand cradling the back of your head. You stay like that for a while, watching waves crash against the rocks as the sun starts painting the sky with blue and orange streaks. 

"Wanna do something stupid?" you mumble into his chest before lifting your chin to look at him mischievously. He has more freckles due to hours spent sunbathing. 

Harry peers at you with furrowed brows. "What?"

"Let's jump off that rock," you say, pointing your finger behind him. 

He turns you both around, still trapping you in his arms. A tall, cliff-like rock surrounded by several smaller rocks makes it easy to reach the top. You don't wait for Harry's answer and pull your shorts down, revealing your cherry-red bikini bottoms. Venturing your way up, you glance back at Harry. He grins and immediately follows suit, walking behind you with outreached arms in case you slip. 

At the top, you both stare at each other with knowing smiles. This is exactly where you're supposed to be. 

Out of nowhere, Harry experiences a burst of spontaneity and quickly lunges forward, cannonballing off the cliff and into the water. He emerges after a few seconds, shaking his hair and letting out a loud holler, probably caused by adrenaline or the cold water. 

You shuffle toward the edge and get ready to jump. Harry's gaze never wavers as you daintily leap off, plugging your nose and closing your eyes on the long way down. When you hit the water, a powerful sensation rushes through your body. You glide to the surface and find Harry swimming toward you, drenched hair plastered to his skin.

The water is an uncomfortable temperature, so you move briskly to climb back up on the rock the kayak is tied to. Shortly after, Harry lifts himself up, droplets dripping from his body. You dry off with the towel, then hand it to him. Once he finishes, you take your phone out of the backpack and tell him to pose. He presents both middle fingers, sticking his tongue out with a smile. The breathtaking evening view in the background makes the picture ten times more perfect. 

"Let's head back," you say after soaking in the skyline. "The wine tasting is at six, and it's a little after five right now." 

Harry nods, and you both put your life jackets back on before situating yourselves in the kayak. You untie the knotted rope, push off the rock, and then head toward the coastline. He helps paddle the whole way there, kissing the back of your neck every so often. 

Bliss, bliss, bliss. 

—— 

After returning the kayak and packing all the stuff in the car's trunk, Harry says he's going to find a nearby bathroom so he can change into his outfit for the wine tasting. He hands you one of his sweaters out of the bag — a grey crewneck. It's your favorite and still smells like him, no matter how often you've worn it. 

You have no idea what outfit he brought; he manages to take it out and quickly runs into a shop while you're distracted by the lively village. Waiting with anticipation in the car, you cozy up, growing tired from the strenuous paddling and calming atmosphere around you. 

Five minutes pass before Harry appears, and you immediately laugh at the sight of him. Not because he looks silly but because his outfit is too fancy for less than an hour of wine tasting in some restaurant's cellar. 

"Harry," you say breathily, taking in his outfit, "I'm wearing a sweater, and you're wearing a suit. Where did you even get that?" 

It's a bubblegum pink suit left open over a plain white button-up. White dress shoes are on his feet, and he must've fixed his hair in the bathroom mirror. 

"Eh?" He spins around. "You like it?" 

"You look very handsome, but now I feel severely underdressed. Why didn't you tell me to pack a dress?" You obviously don't have the time to go back to the villa and change, but you're curious as to why Harry didn't say anything about the apparent dress code for tonight. 

"Wanted to surprise you, darling. Plus, I know you would be worried about spilling wine on something nice. It's a private tasting, so no one will see you but me and the chef I mentioned."

Harry had booked a wine tasting with a man he'd met when he last visited Italy, the friendly owner of a family-owned restaurant in the village. He has always been able to leave unforgettable impressions on everyone he meets, so the man gladly moved some things around so that he could have you two come to the cellar for an intimate experience. 

You sigh, realizing there's no point in arguing. They won't care, so why should you? You have no doubt that Harry will make you feel comfortable once you get there. 

"You're right. Hopefully, he doesn't care that I look like I just crawled out of a lake." 

"Basta. Sembri un sogno," Harry says, grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the car. 

You assume he said something incredibly charming. Your face naturally warms as you distract yourself by picking nonexistent lint off your sleeve before walking the bustling street toward a restaurant called Dahlia. The man Harry knows is waiting by the arched front door with a jovial smile.

"Ciao, Signore Styles!" he greets enthusiastically. "Ah, la tua ragazza. Benvenuto!"

Harry shakes his hand. "Che bello rivederti. Questa è la mia ragazza, sì. Cominciamo, va bene?" 

"Yes, yes. Seguitemi, cari." 

The two of you follow him through the small, packed restaurant and descend a narrow flight of stairs that leads to a wine cellar. Harry is behind you, his hands on your shoulders so you don't take a tumble. His dress shoes click against the polished wood with each step. 

At the bottom, you turn down a dim hallway. Endless wine bottles are meticulously stacked on shelves against the walls. There's a table and chairs, and two wine glasses and napkins are already set neatly on the surface. There's even a plate of bread. 

You sit, Harry doing the same. He immediately begins shaking the napkin out and placing it in his lap like he's done this a million times before. You cross your legs and angle your body toward him, admiring his features in the low, yellowish lighting from the antique wall sconces. He grins handsomely.

The man brings over two bottles of expensive-looking wine, and you think of your preconceived notion of what wine tasting would be like—rolling hills and vineyards in the countryside, getting wine drunk with middle-aged moms wearing patterned blouses, gossiping about their cheating husbands. 

Where you are right now is undeniably better. Who wouldn't want to be in a cramped room with their boyfriend who's wearing a pink suit and looking at you like you're the only thing that exists?

The man fills the wine glasses with an adequate amount of blood-red liquid, then stands back to observe your reactions. Harry spins it around in his glass and sniffs it, acting like he's all fancy. You want to laugh at him but keep it inside so you don't seem disrespectful. Instead, you bring your glass up to your mouth and take a small sip, tasting wild berries and a hint of an unknown aromatic herb. Harry sips his next, eyes locked on yours the entire time. He smacks his lips after swallowing and exhales, obviously pleased. You roll your eyes at him secretively. He's acting like he owns the place, and it's shameful that you find it attractive. 

You rip off a piece of the bread from the loaf in front of you and eat it, the buttery dough instantly melting on your tongue. Harry smiles at you, resting his hand on your chair as you rip some more off and offer it to him. He puts it in his mouth and mouths a silent swear, then picks up the entire loaf of bread and inspects it like he's Gordon Ramsey. 

"I need the recipe for that," you whisper humorously. 

Harry, of course, takes it literally. He beckons the man to come closer and places a friendly hand on his shoulder. "La mia ragazza adora cucinare il pane. Potrei avere questa ricetta per favore? Questo è sorprendente." 

"Ovviamente! Tornerò," says the man while hurriedly going upstairs. 

You turn to Harry with confusion, needing help understanding the exchange. 

"He's getting the recipe for it," he explains. "You can make it before we go home."

"Harry," you say with a sigh. "Stop being so nice. I could've just found an online recipe. What if it's a family recipe that's super important to him?" 

"Stop worrying, my love. He doesn't mind."

Before you can respond, the man returns with a tattered recipe book. He opens it to a bookmarked page and sets it in front of you. "Fai una photo, caro. Fammi sapere com'è quando lo fai," he says, pointing at the bread drawing — not a picture — on the weathered page. Was this recipe from medieval times? Goodness gracious.

You can't understand him, so Harry takes your phone out of your pocket and snaps a picture of the handwritten words on the paper. You can't believe this man you just met is so willing to give you a recipe from his own restaurant. 

"Grazie," you say shyly. Harry smiles at your sudden bashfulness, scooting closer to you and kissing your head.

Wine tasting continues for the next hour. Throughout the various sips of eclectic flavors, Harry amps up his lovable antics — slowly and dramatically reeling off flavors he gets from the wine and spinning the liquid in the glass so quickly that it spills onto the napkin in his lap. 

Anything to see you smile. 

After what feels like gallons of wine, you and Harry thank the man for his graciousness and ask if he could drive the car back to the villa since driving back yourselves while tipsy would be idiotic. Harry offers to pay a hefty amount for the favor, and the man happily obliges, saying he will drive it back when he finishes closing the restaurant. Harry hands him the keys before you leave, shaking hands and kissing cheeks with the other chefs on the way out. 

You're both wine-drunk—arguably the best kind of drunk—and stumbling on clumsy feet with cheeks that won't stop smiling. It's dark out now, and the streetlights guide you to the Corvette. Harry calls for a taxi, speaking in full Italian, which makes you weak in the knees. 

Harry removes his suit jacket after hanging up the phone, leaving the white button-up in all its glory, his tattoos and chest hair peeking out from the few buttons undone. You take your belongings out of the trunk, set them on the ground, and then stand beside Harry. You kiss his chest, nuzzling your cheek against it and closing your eyes. He rubs his hand along your back and begins swaying with you under the streetlight. 

You look up at him with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, admiring his matching appearance. "How do you say 'pretty' in Italian?" you ask, getting lost in his gaze. 

Harry pouts, thinking. "Patatina," he replies after a few seconds. 

"You're patatina," you say lovingly.

He snorts at your cluelessness, smearing a kiss on your forehead. 

"What?" you ask, looking at him with confusion. "Is that not what it means? That's not nice, Harry. What did you just make me say?" You gasp. "Is it something dirty?" 

He's still giggling, crinkled eyes and deep dimples carving his face. You poke his ribs to get him to answer. "Sorry," he says, breathing out a final laugh. "No, it's not dirty. Patatina is a term of endearment I read about in the book I bought. It means little potato." 

You stare at him with a deadpan expression, thoughts about why you decided to date this boy running through your head. "Little potato... it's actually kind of cute," you admit, shuffling closer to Harry's warm body. "If you're a patatina, what am I?" 

"Cipollino," he murmurs, cradling your face. It translates to 'little onion .'The book said it pairs well with patatina, and we're, like... a pair." 

Your nose scrunches. "But an onion, out of everything? That's probably the least romantic vegetable. I want to be rhubarb or something, you know? They taste sweet, and I think... I think I'm pretty sweet. Right, Harry?" The wine is making its way to your dizzy head.

"Correct," he says. "And I'm patatina, not Harry." 

"Shut up." 

"Kiss me, then. Shut me right up." 

You don't question him, lurching forward to give him a searing kiss, fingers hooking in his belt loops. He returns the kiss with the same, if not more, passion. You can taste the residue of wine on his cherry-colored lips, opening his mouth with your tongue to suck on his. 

You suddenly hear tires rolling up and turn to see headlights shining on your figures. Great timing, taxi. You part from Harry's swollen lips, short of breath, and hastily pick up your stuff. You hope no one witnessed anything too wild.

Harry hands the driver a wad of cash before he climbs in the backseat. You follow suit. The vehicle drives off into the night, and your head rests on your lover's shoulder the whole way back.

—— 

The villa looms exquisitely under the starlit sky. You're relatively sure you fell asleep not even five minutes into the drive. Harry helps your sleepy body out of the car after grabbing all your belongings, then walks you up the driveway. He sets you on the outdoor sofa surrounding the fire pit before disappearing through the sliding door. The whispering breeze makes you shiver and burrow deeper into his sweater still clinging to your figure.

Harry returns with two wine glasses and a bottle of... cranberry juice?

"If I have any more wine, I'll puke. So, cranberry juice?" he offers, his voice rising to a higher octave. 

"Sitting by the fire drinking cranberry juice out of a wine glass with you," you say dreamily while scooting over to make room for him. "I can't think of anything better."

You soak up his company. When he went inside, he changed into grey sweatpants and a matching hoodie, and he looked like such a boyfriend. It's ridiculous. He's always so inviting and lovely. You find yourself wanting to touch him and absorb the warmth he exudes.

Sleep overtakes you again while tucked into his side. The next thing you wake to is silk sheets on the king-size bed. You instinctively curl up to Harry's body beside you. He must have opened the vast bay window that provides an impossible sea view because a beautiful breeze flows over your skin. It has you sinking further into the mattress. 

"Want me to get your pajamas?" Harry asks quietly.

You sleepily shake your head, perfectly fine with sleeping in his sweater. However, you do slide off your shorts and bikini bottoms. 

You're dozing again when Harry clears his throat. You blink open your eyes, feeling his heart rate speed up under your cheek resting there. 

"I have something special planned for our anniversary tomorrow. It's in the evening, so we have time to do other things. Just letting you know." 

"That makes me nervous, but I trust you."

"Tomorrow will be even better than today. I promise." 

"Can't wait." You yawn. "Goodnight. Love you."

"I love you more than anything," he says, lightly scratching your back. 

You grumble an incoherent response, drifting off to your dreams that always pale compared to life with the man next to you. 

—— 

The following morning's ambiance consists of Harry's snoring and glorious sunshine pouring through the wind-blown curtains. You must've slept like a rock because the bedside clock reads nine-thirty. You decide to abandon the soft sheets and let Harry get more sleep. 

You wrap yourself in your satin robe and pad down the hallway toward the kitchen. One glance at the oven, and you remember the bread recipe from last night. It'd be a pleasant anniversary surprise for Harry, considering his surprise for you is shrouded in mystery. Plus, making bread is oddly therapeutic—the kneading, the delicious smell, the endless possibility of flavors. Luckily, all the simple ingredients are in the pantry, so you can start making the dough. 

By the time it's in the oven, Harry is still dead to the world, and the time is nearing eleven. Some days, he'll wake up at the crack of dawn to go on a stupid run, or he'll sleep until noon on the weekends after a long week of work. There's really no in-between. 

While the bread bakes, you clean the mess on the counters before sitting at the kitchen table to aimlessly scroll through your phone. Another twenty minutes pass before you hear feet shuffling against the hardwood floor. You glance up to find a puffy-eyed Harry rubbing his face. He's wearing black swim trunks, and that's about it, except for the sunglasses on top of his head. 

He bends down and kisses your cheek. "Buongiorno, mio piccolo cuoco," he says, his voice as raspy as the slight mustache above his lip that seems to have grown overnight.

"More like good afternoon." You shut your phone off and set it aside. "Did you sleep well?" 

"Mm, the best I have in ages," he answers, scratching his stomach. He then smiles lazily, his eyes looking more awake. "Happy anniversary." 

"Three whole years. I don't know how I've gone putting up with you this long." 

"Hey. I can go back to bed if you want," he says, pointing his thumb toward the bedroom. 

"No, stay," you plead softly. "By the way, I'm making that bread recipe. It's my present to you for being an average boyfriend." 

"Being sassy this morning, are we?" 

"You love it." 

"Got that right," Harry mutters, nosily peering into the oven. He sniffs the bread dramatically and whistles impressively before shutting the oven door. The mouthwatering aroma reminds you of wandering the Italian streets yesterday.

"Going for a swim?"

"Yeah. Join me?"

"I will once the bread is done." You stand and send him on his way with a peck to his lips. "Go ahead. I'll make you a fruit platter."

"Dragonfruit, please?" he requests, opening the sliding door that leads to the infinity pool. 

"Got it. Don't forget to put sunscreen on!" 

He gives you a thumbs up, leaving the door open to welcome the pleasant breeze. You grab hot pads and take the finished bread out, setting it on the cooling rack before turning the oven off. While it cools, you change into a swimsuit, tie a chiffon wrap skirt around your hips, and then arrange a platter. 

You gather the cubed fruit you've both been eating the past couple of days—cantaloupe, watermelon, strawberries, and, per Harry's request, dragonfruit. He wanted to buy some after his wonderful mother grew it in her garden. Then, you precisely arrange the fruit in a circle on a floating breakfast tray that can go in the pool, keeping the middle open for slices of buttered bread. You sincerely hope it tastes close enough to what you ate yesterday. 

Lastly, you fill glasses with orange juice before carefully heading outside to keep Harry company. You see him floating on his back, arms open and eyes closed. You set the platter down on a table and tiptoe to the edge of the pool.

To hell with it. You're going to scare him to get him back for trying to tip the kayak yesterday. It's only fair, right? 

He's oblivious to everything around him, a peaceful glow on his face. You almost feel bad for deciding to disturb it — especially on your anniversary — but what good is a relationship without a bit of havoc? 

You mull over what you could possibly do to frighten him. Maybe throw a cantaloupe piece at him or pretend the car came back destroyed. These are two vastly different ends of the mischief spectrum, and ultimately, the latter is the obvious choice—and the most fun.

"Harry?" you say quietly, changing your expression to make it seem like you're distraught. 

"Yeah?" he replies, keeping his eyes closed. 

"Um, your friend from yesterday just dropped the car off. Harry, it's—"

His eyes snap open, picking up on your wavering and anxious tone. He stops floating and swims over to where you're standing by the edge. 

"What's wrong? Talk to me. Did something happen? Are you okay?" he rambles worriedly, his eyes darting between your face and body to check for any signs. 

"The car," you whisper, mustering up fake tears. Harry instinctively holds your ankle, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. "It's destroyed. It looks like it got in an accident. What are we going to do?" 

"Seriously? What the fuck? How— I don't—" He heaves himself out of the pool and begins walking around the villa toward the driveway. He looks like he's about to punch something, so you suppress your laughter and decide to end the game. 

You grab his wrist, spinning him around. He stares at you with panic, and now you feel bad. "I'm kidding, baby. I'm just messing with you. The car is fine. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeat, clasping his cheeks and laughing.

His jaw drops. "You're so mean." 

"I'm just getting you back for yesterday. Them's the rules."

"Yeah, but you've been quite sassy all morning, hmm? First, you called me an average boyfriend. Then, you didn't even kiss me good morning. That hurts my heart." 

"You were completely passed out. How would you have known if I kissed you good morning or not?"

"I can always tell. They bring me back to life." 

"Shut up," you scoff, grabbing the platter. "Here's some fruit and homemade bread as a peace offering. Take it or leave it." 

"Feed me in the pool, and I'll consider your offer." 

"Fine. I'm not getting in, though. I want to sunbathe for a bit. 

Harry dramatically rolls his eyes and dives back in. When he emerges, he swims to the edge. You sit down with the platter and let it float next to him before putting your feet in the tepid water. You pick up a slice of bread and hold it to Harry's awaiting mouth. He places your legs over his shoulders, his arms hooking around your upper thighs. 

Someone's needy today. 

He tosses the bread into his mouth, eyes rolling back like they did in the wine cellar yesterday. He borderline moans at the taste, jaw flexing with each chew. After he swallows, he leaves grateful kisses on your thighs. "Deliziosa," he murmurs, paired with more nipping and kissing. You know he's not talking about the bread. The 'a' he added to the end of the word makes it feminine. He's not slick.

Before you both get carried away — wanting to save your pent-up tension for later — you feed him a plethora of fruit before deciding to make both of you an actual meal. You're starving, so you'll catch some sun later. 

Harry whines at the loss of contact. You use your foot to push his chest until he's floating on his back again. He throws you a peace sign before you head back inside. 

As you whip up a quick breakfast, you watch your boyfriend from the door, appreciating his sunkissed body and tattoos. You smile and think about how time has flown by with him in the most remarkable way.

Three years and hopefully a lifetime more.

—— 

You're nervous. 

You don't have the faintest idea what Harry's surprise is. All he's said is to dress nicely and not eat anything yet. Maybe he's taking you out to dinner? Or perhaps you'll walk downtown together and stop at vendors. You're stumped. He's annoyingly good at keeping secrets. 

It's nearing seven as you add the finishing touches to your makeup. Harry is in the bathroom spraying cologne on his neck, looking casually handsome in a flowing, off-white button-up. He's paired it with matching cotton shorts and sneakers that need washing. You keep telling him to clean them, but he ignores your pleading and claims the dirt gives them character. 

A short cherry-colored dress with puffed sleeves adorns your body. Red lipstick to match. Hair loose. The necklace Harry bought you for your last anniversary glimmering against your neck. 

Harry comes behind you in the vanity mirror as you apply a final coat of mascara and starts soothingly scratching your upper back. He can probably sense you're feeling nervous, knowing you don't particularly like surprises. However, you think he looks undeniably handsome, his new tan and stubble pulling you back into his comfort. Somehow, just looking at him eases your nerves.

"Gorgeous," he whispers.

You smooth any remaining wrinkles out of your dress. "Thank you. I'm almost done." 

"Take your time," he replies, squeezing your shoulders. "I'll start the car." 

You make sure your makeup is smudge-free and then shut the bedroom light off on your way to the front door. Harry is waiting by the passenger side of the Corvette with a distracted look on his face. When he finally sees you coming, he opens the door for you. This time, you accept his gentlemanlike gesture. 

He drives to an unknown destination, taking the backroads. You can't even guess where you're heading since everything outside the villa is unfamiliar.

Ten minutes later, Harry slows down and turns right toward what appears to be a small seaside forest. He drives along the path leading through the trees until a hidden beach area eventually reveals itself. He parks the car while you're speechless at the sight before you. The only things on the sand are a round table with two chairs surrounded by tiki torches. 

No one else is here. If Harry tells you he rented the entire beach, you'll kill him. 

"I rented this portion of the beach for the night."

Of course.

"You're ridiculous," you say, taking in your surroundings. "Thank you, Harry. This is a wonderful surprise." 

He ducks his head bashfully. "C'mon, let's eat." 

You follow him to the table and sit on the wicker chair across from him. In front of you is a plate of stuffed ravioli with a side of roasted asparagus, cooked just how you like them. Harry has vegan fettuccine alfredo with peas--a lot of peas. A gagworthy amount.

"I'm floored right now," you say, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. "I can't believe you did all this without me knowing." 

"I'm a sneaky guy. There were lots of secret phone calls while you were in the shower or swimming in the pool. 

You take your sandals off and enjoy the cool sand between your toes. "Yeah, I bet. I'm not even going to ask how much it costs to rent this part of the beach." 

"It's not important," he says. "Let's eat, shall we? And talk me through this little outfit you have on. Why on earth haven't I seen you wear it yet?" 

Then, both of you eat, talk, and watch the waves glide on the shore. The sun is dipping past the horizon, turning the sky a violet shade with splashes of fading orange. You talk Harry's ear off about random stuff in your life and humorous anecdotes since the trip started. His body naturally leans toward you to give you his undivided attention. He listens the entire time, eyes on you with his chin in the palm of his hand, except for when he pops some spearmint gum into his mouth after finishing his truckload of peas. 

After you finish rambling, you wait for him to start talking your ear off. He usually can drone on and on about anything for hours, but right now, he's just sitting and staring at the sunset. 

"You're quiet," you point out, gently poking his arm with your fork. 

"Just thinking." 

"About what?" 

He sighs longingly before saying, "I know we still have more than enough time here, but I kind of don't want to leave. I love it here so much. This is the happiest I've ever been." 

Your heart melts. "I feel the same way. I could stay here forever and never get bored of it. Especially with you by my side."

Harry finally looks at you, his eyes holding something unreadable yet powerful. He stands abruptly and reaches his hand out. "Let's walk for a bit," he says with a tone that kicks your anxiety into high gear. 

You grasp his hand, and he leads you along the shoreline, your feet getting wet whenever the tide washes up. It's quiet except for the pesky seagulls, crashing waves, and salty breeze. Where you are right now makes you want to bottle up the memory so you can keep the feeling forever, replay this trip, and relive the most joyous moments of your life. 

Harry eventually stops, facing you with both hands holding yours tightly. He looks... pale. Are his hands shaking, or are you imagining things? Is he about to pass out from sunstroke? Did he eat too many peas? 

He clears his throat and visibly gulps, squinting at the sky and exhaling quickly. His feet shuffle nervously. An incomprehensible thought zings to the front of your brain. 

Is he about to do what you think he's about to do? 

"I might cry and possibly throw up, so please bear with me," he says, his voice shaky.

You just stare at him, unable to say anything. Then, he begins lowering on one knee, and you just about go down with him. 

He removes his hands from yours and takes something out of his pocket. It's a velvet ring box, pink and delicate.  

You gasp as Harry opens his mouth, his watery eyes trained on nothing but you. "I love you with all my heart. I'm weak for the things you do, and it consumes me to the point where I feel like I might burst from loving you so much. Every word you speak or smile you give me has me falling for you deeper and deeper. And... you love me back. You love me better than anyone. And I realized when we first met that you're someone I not only want in this life but need. You're the only one for me, and I'll take care of you, support you, and love you so thoroughly until you get sick of me. I'm rambling now, so I'll shut up and cut to the chase. I want to be your husband. Will you marry me? Please? Il mio cuore è solo tuo. If you want it, it's yours." 

Harry finishes his speech by opening the ring box to reveal a silver oval-cut ring that takes your breath away. A tear trails down your cheek as your lips wobble. You nod your head what feels like a thousand times. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. Holy shit."

He laughs beautifully, his eyes squinting so much that the captured tears in his waterline spill over. He stands and shakily puts the ring on the correct finger. It fits perfectly. 

You cup his cheeks and bring his face toward yours. "I love you," you say while kissing his flushed and tear-stained cheeks. "You're so sneaky. I wasn't expecting this until you looked like you were going to pass out in front of me." 

"Be glad I didn't throw up on your dress." 

"That's true." Suddenly, everything hits you. Harry, we're going to get married." 

He smiles with unbridled happiness, nodding before picking you up bridal style and running into the sea. The splashes he makes strike you with cold splatters, and you squeal, but it quickly turns into uncontrollable laughter when Harry spins you around and dips you toward the water. You squirm with resistance and manage to escape his arms. He stumbles from the waves but remains upright, then stares at you intensely for three seconds before kissing your lips like they're his life source. 

"My fiancée," he says, kissing down your face to your neck. "I adore you."

"Can we" — you whimper breathily — "go back to the villa and celebrate? Some wine, dessert, and... maybe some other things." 

He can't propose to you while looking this good and expect you not to jump his bones. 

"Sì, mi amore." 

—— 

At the villa, palpable tension lingers in the air and throughout your body. The adrenaline from what just happened is still coursing in your blood as Harry makes a beeline straight to the master bedroom. It's only right to follow with shallow breaths and a hammering heartbeat.

Approaching the bedroom, you see Harry already taking off his shirt. You walk over and lie on the bed, waiting for him to initiate the celebration. You're usually the one who likes to be in control, but being the sexually dominant type calls for preparation and the right kind of mood. Now, at this moment, all you want is to writhe in pleasure on silk sheets and feel Harry's touch everywhere. 

You're already impatiently aroused because of Harry's teasing on the drive back. His fingers were stroking the inside of your thigh, traveling up, up, up until they reached dangerous territory. He'd start to pull away after realizing how wet you already were, but you would trap his hand with your thighs, making him groan. Two could play at that game.

Now, Harry saunters over to you in nothing but his cotton shorts. His tanned skin looks tempting in the muted lamplight. The rest of the lights are off, and the moon is brightly shining in the indigo sky. 

"Ready for me?" he asks lowly, hungrily glancing over your body. 

You nod and bend your knees. Harry lies on his stomach and gets between your legs, his hands gripping your upper thighs with fervor. He must've put his rings on when you weren't looking. He knows you love the feeling of them. You're not picky as to where. 

"Gonna let me take care of you?"

"Please. Please, Harry." 

"Patience, my love. Let me see you." 

"I'm right here. Do something. Please, I need you." 

He shushes you with a soft timbre, scooting closer to where you need him the most. He lifts your dress, bunches the material up by your stomach, and then readjusts his grip on your thighs. His lips trail closer to your lace underwear, and he looks at you under his eyelashes. His eyes ground you, make you nervous, and leave you spellbound. Maintaining eye contact with him is hard when you know you'll come undone way too quickly from just his intense gaze. You're not giving him the benefit of that. Not tonight, at least.

Instead, you stare at the vaulted ceiling and gasp when his lips graze over your underwear. Soft, purposeful movements have you closing your thighs around your head as a reflex. Open-mouthed kisses over your wetness lace drive you crazy. You're clenching, internally soliciting for him to just do something. 

"Stop teasing," you say firmly, still not looking at him.

"Don't be bossy." 

"I'm not being bossy. You're my fiancé, so you're supposed to be nice to me." 

He moves your underwear to the side. "Yeah? My fiancée wants me to be nice to her? I'm always nice, baby. Always good for you, you know that." 

"You are, you are. It's true. The nicest man I've ever known. No one has even come close." You squirm with impatience. "Just take them off." 

Harry doesn't waste any time, propping himself up to slide the material down your legs. You lift your ankles above his head to fling them off, then plant your feet back on the mattress and spread wide open so he can resume. 

His mouth immediately latches onto your clit, sucking it, his nose fitting perfectly above it. You moan loudly, back arching and hands grasping his neck. You have to look at him now and watch him take care of you like only he knows how. When you do, it's a sight straight from heaven. His brows are drawn in, eyes shut, and pink lips bring you pleasure in the most intimate way. 

Harry continues sucking before soothing his tongue along your entrance. Without warning, he removes his mouth and replaces it with his fingers. He dives two of them in, curling them in a way that makes you inhale sharply. His mouth occupies itself with kissing the inside of your thighs, biting little marks so you can remember this experience. 

The sensations of both his fingers and mouth are overwhelming, and your hand can't help but involuntarily pull his hair. 

"God," he mumbles against your thigh. "Do that again, baby." 

You pull harder, and a deep, raspy moan leaves his mouth. He begins kissing along your body while his fingers continue bringing you to your peak. He adds a third as he nips your waist, his head exploring under your bunched-up dress. He props one arm up to hover himself over you. You look at him with lustful eyes, your mouth parted, soft moans escaping when he hits a particular spot. He smears a messy kiss on your lips, and you try your best to return it as his fingers thrust in and out of you.

An orgasm quickly forms in your lower stomach. Harry massages your clit with the pad of his thumb to bring you there, knowing your body and when you're about to let go like the back of his hand. He grinds against the bed to soothe his own arousal. He's been hard since your act in the car, having felt your thighs clench around his hands, his fingers so close to his favorite spot. He apparently couldn't help himself. 

When Harry hits that final spot that has you crying out, you arch your back and let go. Your eyes squeeze shut as you moan from the delightful pressure freely flowing out of your body. 

Harry places his mouth back on yours as you finish, removing his fingers from inside you and gripping your hips, leaving a coat of your arousal on the love bites left there. Your body is strong enough to lift yourself on your elbows and leave marks on Harry's neck. He grunts when you bite the sensitive skin below his earlobe and grinds against the bed once more, stilling and then shuddering through a fierce release.

Oh. He came from that one touch. 

He falls flat on the bed, cupping himself and breathing heavily. There's a damp spot on his shorts. It's a filthy sight.

"That was embarrassing. I'm sorry," Harry murmurs, his cheek pressed against the pillow. "I thought I'd be able to last." 

You brush some sweaty hair off his forehead. "It's fine. I don't have to do any work now." 

"Hilarious," he says monotonously. He suddenly jumps up from the bed and shuffles to the bathroom, confusing you. You hear him wash his hands and then turn on the jacuzzi. He returns with a clean pair of boxers and smoothly lifts you from the bed. Your dress covers your exposed state, yet it doesn't hide the slick feeling between your legs. The warm water will feel amazing. 

Harry gently sets you on the sink counter as the tub fills up. He grabs a washcloth and dips it under the faucet before cleaning you. It's comfortably silent, with only rushing water in the background. 

When the jacuzzi is adequately filled, Harry helps you stand and remove your dress. Once naked, you quickly go to the bathroom while Harry removes his boxers. He then leads you to the jacuzzi to sit down. When he climbs in, you cling onto him for a cuddle as sleepiness washes over you. Harry presses a button to turn the jets on. Everything feels so lovely.

"I can't believe you said yes," he says. 

"You knew I would. How could I possibly say no to you after a speech like that?" 

"Dunno. We're, like... together forever now." He rubs the ring on your finger. "Well, not yet. But when we actually get married, it's a lifetime with each other. It's wild to think about, but I want nothing more." 

"I get what you mean," you say, scrubbing the red lipstick stains on his neck with the pads of your fingers. "I want this with you too." 

When you softly rub around his lips, he kisses your finger and looks at you with disbelief. You pluck his swollen bottom lip with your thumb, then lean in to plant a truthful kiss there.

Everything with him is so simple. Every touch is meaningful. Every unspoken word holds the weight of a million said. Every laugh leaves you teary-eyed with a heart full of love.

He is pure love. What he gives so naturally is exactly what he is.

Once your skin turns wrinkly and the water becomes lukewarm, you and Harry get out and dry yourselves off. He retreats to the bedroom to grab pajamas. When he returns, you put on an oversized shirt and walk out of the bathroom after draining the tub, running toward the bed and bellyflopping on it like a kid. Harry shuts the bedroom light off and flops beside you, letting out a long and blissful sigh. 

"I'm hungry," he says.

You snort. "You ate a million peas not even an hour ago. How are you still hungry?" 

"Sex makes me hungry. And stop making fun of my love of peas. Hey, can you get the cantaloupe? I'm knackered." 

His rapid change of topics makes you laugh. "Anything for you, pea boy."

You hear him faintly whine at your new nickname for him as you stroll into the kitchen. You open the refrigerator to grab a bowl of cantaloupe cubes and then return. Harry's eyes are fluttering shut, and his limbs are spread out on the mattress. You climb over him, sitting against the headboard as he blindly reaches his hand for some fruit. He chews against the pillow, his cheeks squishing adorably. 

"Thanks," he mumbles with his mouth full. 

"Mm-hmm. I'm going to sleep. I'll put the bowl on the nightstand for you." 

Once you've moved the cantaloupe, you scoot down and lie on your back. Harry keeps reaching for the bowl without moving his head, sometimes missing entirely and waving his hand around to find it. You eventually close your eyes, a smile making its way to your face when you realize you'll wake up tomorrow as an engaged woman next to your future husband.

Harry finishes all the fruit in the bowl and then turns off the lamp. He tugs you against his chest, and you exhale happily, his warmth effortlessly pulling you under into a deep sleep. 

—— 

Two Weeks Later 

After situating yourself in the airplane seat, you pull out your phone and open Instagram. You and Harry are on your way back from Italy. It was an unforgettable two weeks together, and not one day went by without you making new memories. 

You had told only the closest people to you about the engagement—your parents and Harry's. No one else knows, so you decided to announce the news with an Instagram post. You wanted to wait until after vacation to worry about making phone calls and giving details about how it happened. 

Now, you start creating a post on the fourteen-hour flight to California. You already know what picture to use — Harry cutely holding a bottle of wine along the lusciously green countryside, ready for a picnic date in a park. Also, with an impressive mustache. Throughout the ten days after the engagement, Harry had decided to grow his faint mustache into a full-fledged one. You don't know how it grew so fast, honestly. You also didn't know how to feel about it at first, but you're accustomed to liking it now. It makes him look mature. 

How it feels between your thighs, well, that's a story for another day.

Harry has chosen to post a picture of the ring, gleaming brilliantly in the pink velvet box. And with him being the artsy, moderately strange social media poster, he had to add something extra to the picture — a paint swatch. Both of you spontaneously went paint shopping one day when you got bored in the villa. You had been talking to him for months about redoing the bathroom at the house, so you went to a local paint store to ogle at different options. Harry, being the sentimental and cheesy man he is, suggested painting it the color of the ring box he proposed with. You remember thinking the diluted pink would complement the white tiles and granite counter of the master bathroom perfectly. 

You couldn't possibly refuse the idea, especially since it would always remind you of that special evening on the beach.

You had searched with him to find a color that resembled the box, all while goofing around and laughing at the bizarrely specific names of the swatches. You had pointed to a light green swatch appropriately named peapod and told Harry he should paint the kitchen that color since he loves peas so much. He pouted at you and dramatically walked down another aisle. Typical. And so sensitive about his peas!

Harry is sleeping beside you, his head snugly settled on a pillow propped against the airplane window while soft snores escape his mouth. You'll wait for him to wake up so you can both post at the same time. As for now, you rest your head on his shoulder to also take a nap. Harry stirs and drowsily slaps his hand onto your knee to keep you close.

You'll miss Italy's golden sunsets, good-natured people, and ethereal views. However, the thought of going home and beginning a new chapter with your fiancé doesn't sound too bad. 

Bliss, in all its glory, takes hold once again.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles #adore-laur #pink velvet

[uncle-dusknoir]

Pelliper Mail! Or, wait, nevermind, what the hell-

Bombirdier Mail! The human-height bird kicks in the door, donning a black feathery mohawk and a large spiked collar around its thin neck. However, to the suprise of those meeting this menacing intruder, it simply drops off a few gifts, maybe steals a snack from a table as a souvenir, then flies off, the non-native Pokemon picking up some rocks on its way out in a behavior that will likely soon horrify many unsuspecting Unovans.

The gifts are as follows: A pack of 15 bags of Shinrian tea known for being particularly strong and hearty, a small hand-sewed Purrlion doll, a book of Shinrian folktales that range from vintage and surprisingly dark to atmospherically spooky rather than truly scary, and a Wailmer-Mart ghost specialized repel that was, Basil can presume from everything she knows about the obvious senders, not bought with money. For the user to, well, use as she sees fit.

I'm going to make the very safe assumption that this is @silver-crowned-riders's... pokemon?

{bombirdier!}

thank you porypory <3. i don't think ive seen one of those before, actually. surprised it managed to get here in this cold.

... arceus, i think you guys do too much for me. i ought to figure out how the whole Pelipper system works so i can stop feeling bad for asking jupetta to do my mailing lmao.

but thank yoouuu... especially for the new tea! I haven't had new teas to try in a while. boiling water rn

#idk where i wanna put this doll i don't want anyone to eat it #and ill have to read this later after i get a real pair of glasses #... i should spray this at thyme and see what happens #basilblogging

[zorinanana]

Kiss Me in the Dark is another illustrated fanfiction I made a couple months ago. It takes place in the same continuity as Like a Glass Bottle, but it's a completely separate story that doesn't really connect to that one. I also wrote this before Chapter 7 Part 1 or the Sunset Savanna event came out so there's some parts that definitely diverge from canon. There are also spoilers for chapter 6, by the way.

Rating: M (Strong language, suggestive content, A LOT of mentions of suicide and self-harm)

Pairings: Leona/Idia, background Malleyuu

Content Warnings: This story pretty much revolves around suicidal ideation, depression, and self-harm. I am serious, you probably don't want to read it you have a hard time with that stuff.

Word Count: Long as Fuck (~55k words)

“You’re beautiful.” Leona breathed.

Idia’s eyes blew wide. He tried to step back, but Leona stopped him with a touch to his cheek. Idia stared down into his upside-down eyes, searching for something. Maybe an escape.

“…I’m not.” Idia said. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“No.”

“You’re a jerk. You’re a mean kittycat.” Idia whispered, leaning closer. “And you’re a liar, too.”

“I’m not lyin’.” Leona replied.

“Then say it again. Convince me this time.” Idia’s lips hovered over his. Leona felt the warmth of his breath, of his hair spilling over the back of the futon and covering them like a curtain.

“You’re beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beauti-”

Before he could say it again, Idia silenced him with his lips.

Chapter 1 - Beautiful

Parked by a small, secluded beach on the west coast of the Kingdom of Heroes, a shiny new camper reflected the brilliant oranges and blues of the sunset. It had been built to look vintage, but a closer look revealed distinctly modern features and artificial wear and tear. Its owner had bought it because he knew that its kitschy fakeness would make people mad. He leaned against the fence separating the lot from the beach, watching the last of the beachgoers pack up their umbrellas and beach chairs. Parents carried their sleeping toddlers on their backs, ignoring him as they walked past.

Leona exhaled slowly, letting the smoke from his cigarette drift into the air in a dirty spiral. It stood out against the vibrant colors of the sky, a nasty blemish that soon dissolved into nothingness. It was almost poetic, in a way, but he would never write it down or say it out loud.

He hadn’t come to the beach for any particular reason. He didn’t even have a swimsuit on him. He had no reason to be here, or there, or anywhere.

Leona had been on the road for a good four months now, out of the Sunset Savanna, through deserts and mountain ranges and cities of all sizes, eventually making his way here. This wasn’t his final destination. He didn’t know what that would be, yet. He’d figure it out as he went along.

As long as he wasn’t home.

The parking lights began to flicker on as the sun sank further below the horizon. Leona flicked the butt of his cigarette against the asphalt, stomping it out with one of his heavy boots.

As night fell, the air grew chilly. Leona sighed, slipping back into his vehicle. Time to figure out what he was going to do next.

Despite its relatively small size, the camper was pretty cozy. He and Ruggie had customized the thing to hell and back. Most of the back was taken up with a kitchenette and a tiny bathroom, along with stairs up to the lofted bed. Way in the back, under the loft, hid a little nook with a loveseat for reading or just lounging around. There used to be a TV mounted there, but they’d taken it out after they had gotten back.

Souvenirs from their trip still hung from the rearview mirror and covered any stable service. He’d bolted a makeshift shelf to the wall where a bunch of tacky bobbleheads now wiggled aimlessly. It was cheesy, sure, but who was going to care? It was one of the last good memories he had.

Speaking of Ruggie. Leona pulled his phone out of his pocket, intending to open it and check the map for good spots to eat and sleep. But before he could, he saw the multiple missed calls from his friend-slash-employee.

“Can’t wait to find out what this is about.” He grumbled, despite knowing exactly what it was about. He dialed Ruggie back and waited.

“Boss! Your brother is pissed.” Was the first thing he said, his voice frantic.

“What else is new.” Leona answered.

“I’m serious, Leona. He’s about to go on the warpath.” Leona could hear the hyena whipping his head around to check that he wasn’t being overheard. “They found out you’ve been gone and now they’re asking him questions about it.”

“You guys still haven’t told them?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s not part of my fucking job description!” Ruggie scoffed. “I’m already on thin ice with your brother, why would I stick my neck out just to get more people mad at me?! I need this job, Leona!”

“You know I’d give you a good recommendation. I wouldn’t leave you high-and-dry like that.” Leona rolled his eyes. Yeah, maybe he was being a baby. But Ruggie knew more about the situation than anyone and Leona thought that he, at least, would understand.

“Would still love to not get kicked out of the palace and give my grandma a heart attack, thanks.” Ruggie replied. “I can’t afford to be looking for another job.”

“Then I’ll pay you from my personal account until you find one.”

“That’s not the fucking point, Leona!” Ruggie growled in exasperation. “God! Do you rich people ever think of anyone other than yourselves?!”

“Ruggie, calm down.” Leona sighed. “I’ll tell them personally, okay? Tell Falena I’ll call tomorrow.”

“You’d better not mess this up for me.” Ruggie replied, but Leona knew he would do it.

“You know he’d still fire you if he ever heard you talking to me like that, right?”

“Honestly, it’d be worth it. I’d go out with a bang. Really cuss you out over all the shit you’ve put me through.”

“Don’t know what I’d do without ya, Ruggie.”

“Bite me.” The phone went silent as Ruggie hung up. Leona stared at the darkened device, thinking. He was running out of options. It seems he couldn’t pretend to be sick or out on “business” anymore.

Slumping against the leather driver’s seat, he let his phone drop to the floor. He hadn’t felt this pathetic in years. Not since he’d met Yuu and the others and gotten his ass kicked by a bunch of kids.

Through his windshield he watched the sun wink out of existence. He kicked his heel back, hearing a hollow “thud” from the metal safe he’d been keeping under the driver’s seat. Ruggie had suggested it for hiding weed in if they ever got pulled over. He just needed a reminder that it was there.

He could still do it. This was a nice enough spot, and the beach was nearly empty. Nobody would be there to stop him setting up, and they wouldn’t find him until the next morning. But he didn’t get up. That cowardly side of himself had grabbed hold of him, pinning him down. He tried to breathe, waiting for something to change. He never knew which direction the scales would tip.

Leona’s phone buzzed in his hand. He sighed and lifted it to his ear.

“What is it now, Ruggie?”

“Um, I’m not Ruggie.”

“Idia?” Confused, Leona double-checked the name on his caller ID. Yep, there it was, “radish sprout”. “You never actually call people.”

He tried to remember the last time he’d heard Idia’s voice. They still texted sometimes and played online chess in their spare time. But Leona didn’t get much opportunity to hang out with schoolmates these days, so many years after dropping out. Last he had heard, Idia had just finished up his engineering degree at some fancy school in the Sunshine Lands.

“I, uh… Didn’t think I should ask this over text.” Leona could hear other people on the other end of the line. He could picture Idia perfectly, sitting somewhere public with his legs scrunched into his chest, a bundle of nervous energy.

“The truth is, I need a huge favor.”

“…Why are you askin’ me?” He winced at his own rough questioning. Damn it, Idia would definitely take that the wrong way.

“…Oh, silly me. Of course the prince of the Sunset Savanna himself wouldn’t have time for a loser like me…”

“Shut the fuck up, I didn’t mean it like that.” Leona sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, more annoyed with himself than Idia. “I just know you have other options that you’d rather ask for help from first. Y’know, like Yuu or Azul.”

“They can’t help me.” Idia answered. “Azul is working down in the Coral Sea right now, and Yuu is… Well, they’re busy.”

“And you think I’m not busy?”

“I know you’re not busy.”

“Fuck.” Leona grumbled.

“Look, just forget it. This was a stupid idea.” Idia’s vice sounded shaky. Leona felt a pang of guilt and grimaced. Damn it, he knew Idia well enough by now to understand the way he was. He wouldn’t have called for help unless he really needed it.

“I didn’t say ‘no’, yet. Just tell me what it is.”

“…So my parents just disowned me.”

“What the fuck.” That was not what he expected.

“I know.” Idia said, dejected.

Leona’s eyes widened. He ran a hand through his bushy hair, trying to process what he was hearing. What could Idia have done to get disowned?

“…They only let me study engineering because they expected me to come home and keep working for S.T.Y.X.” Idia began, as if he could read Leona’s mind. “But I’ve been applying to other companies, and I got an offer. And they found out.”

“Shit.” Leona growled. After everything that had happened, they were still at it with him. It was just so… unjust. Unfair. Idia had never deserved that, and he didn’t deserve it now.

“You know this is just a power play, right? They need you more than you need them.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Idia replied. “That’s why I… I’m not gonna give in. Not this time. So I just need a place to stay for a little while. Just until my new job starts.”

“…Where are you right now?”

“At an airport in the Kingdom of Heroes.”

“Good, I shouldn’t be far. Text me the address, I’ll get there.”

Idia spluttered in surprise. “Leona?! You’re really going to-”

“What, you were expecting me to say no?” He scoffed, sitting up in the driver’s seat and turning the key. The vehicle rumbled to life, ready to go. “I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“Y-You don’t have to rush right here! I can make do for one night!”

“Not like I’ve got much else to do.” Besides killing myself. He added, silently.

“Nevermind, you don’t have to. You don’t have to! Th-this is a waste of your time, I’ll just figure something else out, I’ll-”

“Idia.” Leona interrupted him. He wished he could look him in the eyes right now, he could easily picture how terrified he must be. “I want to help. You ain’t a waste of time.”

That was part of the reason, yes. But it was also a way for him to stop thinking about the things he was keeping under his driver’s seat.

“…Thank you.” Idia mumbled. “I… I really appreciate it.”

“Damn right you do. I’m living in a van right now, by the way. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“What? Why?!”

“Long story. Tell you later.”

---

When he finally reached the airport six hours later, the first thing he noticed was that Idia had cut his hair.

He’d cleaned up a lot, actually. He’d put on slacks and a well-fitted shirt for once, instead of hiding himself away in a pile of baggy clothes. All he had with him were one suitcase and a duffel bag. Leona honked the horn as he got closer, startling him into nearly dropping his phone. He laughed at the glare Idia gave him through the window.

As Idia slid open the side door to throw his suitcase inside, he took a moment to look the inside of the camper over. He seemed impressed. “Wow. When you said ‘van’ I wasn’t expecting this space-defying pocket dimension.”

“I’ll give you the grand tour once we’re outta here.” Idia stepped inside, sliding the door shut behind him. He tried to wedge his suitcase into the little reading nook in the back where it wouldn’t be jostled around too much.

“You got a haircut?” Leona remarked when he finally sat down. It still looked messy, but that was probably because he’d been stuck at the airport for so long.

“Y-Yeah. Does it look gross?”

“How would a haircut look gross?”

“I… dunno, actually.” Idia let out a little laugh. He reached up to grab a loose curl of hair. “This is just the first time anyone outside of the Island of Woe has seen me like this.”

“It looks good.” Strange, but good. Idia’s long-haired look was certainly unique, but it probably attracted more attention than he wanted. It hadn’t made much sense that he had kept it like that in the first place.

“Y-You don’t mean that.” Idia looked away and hid his face behind his palm, a new habit he must have developed since he couldn’t hide behind his hair anymore. He pulled his hoodie from the duffel bag at his feet and slipped it on. Leona wasn’t sure why, but he felt a strange sense of relief that he still had it.

“You really need to learn how to take a compliment.” Leona sighed. With Idia buckled in and everything loaded up, he pulled out of the passenger loading area.

Leona navigated out of the maze of airport traffic and pulled onto the highway. “When was the last time you ate anything?”

“…Um…”

“Okay, so food first, got it.”

“W-Wait, I didn’t get to answer!” Idia protested.

“So what’s the answer?” Leona raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t look away from the road.

“…I grabbed some chips from the airport convenience store, but as for real food, it was the night before last. I had dinner with my parents.” From the corner of his eye, Leona saw him fiddling with the zipper on his hoodie. “I was kinda happy about it too, like an idiot. I don’t usually get to eat with them. But they must have already known by then.”

“What about Ortho?”

“Ortho’s fine. He’s at school.” Idia perked up. “Oh, yeah, he decided to go to the same university as me. He doesn’t need to, but I’m glad he did. He’s made lots of friends.”

“No shit? What does a robot study in university, exactly?” Leona asked.

“You’re not going to believe this, but photography.”

“Photography?”

“Yeah!” Idia turned in his seat. He was finally smiling, just a little bit. “He got really into cinematography and stuff like that in Vil’s film club. And he’s good at it, too! I can show you his portfolio when you’re not driving.”

“Huh. Sure, sounds interesting.”

After a moment of silence, Leona asked:

“Does he know what happened yet?”

Idia didn’t answer right away, but his head dropped just a little.

“No. He’d go berserk if he knew.”

“Hm.”

Idia shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as if he was expecting a lecture. Leona rolled his eyes. He knew he couldn’t judge. He’d never had a relationship with his own brother like the Shrouds’, but he could imagine how embarrassed Idia must be right now.

And… He was doing the same thing, so getting on Idia’s case would just make him a hypocrite.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Some fast food garbage would be great.” Idia answered. He’d started staring out the window at the deep black sky, even though there was nothing to see with all this light pollution. “I haven’t had any in ages.”

The streetlights lining the highway cast a warm glow through the window on Idia’s melancholy face, blotting in and out as they passed each one. It was nostalgic, almost. It reminded Leona of falling asleep in the back of one of his family’s cars after a long day out, his head resting against his big brother’s shoulder.

Leona tried to think of what to say. Years ago, when he first met Idia, he wouldn’t have cared about what happened. But now, after they’d worked together and become something like friends, he had too many questions and no idea how to ask them. If he wasn’t careful, Idia would shut down and retreat into his little introvert zone, and good fucking luck getting him out of there.

So he said nothing, idly kicking his free foot against the metal box under his seat.

---

Idia had barely started on his food by the time Leona finished scarfing down his two double cheeseburgers. He’d been driving non-stop since sunset, and he could feel his energy starting to flag. The restaurant they’d settled in was nearly empty this early in the morning, the only other occupant a tired cashier blatantly scrolling on her phone as she leaned against the counter.

“You look like hell.” Idia remarked.

“Could say the same to you.” Leona snapped back.

Idia rolled his eyes. Before S.T.Y.X., he never would’ve done something like that. At least not to his face.

“You know what I mean. Were you on the road this whole time?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Leona laughed and snatched a fry from Idia’s tray, ignoring the glare he got for it. “Stop eating so slow. It’s survival of the fittest out here.”

“We’re in a McDonald’s. There’s a playground for toddlers outside.”

“And what do you think happens to the ones who can’t find their way out of the tubes?”

“Pfft.” Idia tried to conceal his smile by taking a big bite out of his own burger.

He didn’t speak again until he had finished chewing. “I can drive, so you can take a break. I don’t know where you’re going, though.”

“That makes two of us.”

Idia looked confused. “You don’t know?!”

“Can’t a guy just fuck off for a while and have an adventure?” Leona leaned back in the restaurant booth, grinning at the man across from him.

“Sure, but a prince? Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me the whole story?” Pouting, Idia leaned forward to glare at him.

“Don’t we have more important things to worry about? Like what you’re gonna do.” Idia stared down at his food. Leona swallowed nervously. His deflection had worked, but he couldn’t help but feel bad about it.

“I accepted a job offer a week ago.” Idia explained, still not looking up. “I was supposed to start next month.”

“So let’s get you there, then.” Leona decided. “Where is it?”

“It’s, uh.” He finally lifted his head, sheepish. “They’re working on this big project in, well. The Sunset Savanna.”

Well, fuck.

---

He was going to have to go back eventually. At least, that was what he tried to tell himself. He was doing the right thing, doing a favor for Idia like this. And it might be fun. At least it wouldn’t be boring.

Once Idia stopped moping around, anyway. They had gotten a hotel room for the night, and all he was doing was sitting on his bed and staring at his phone, not texting or browsing the internet or anything. Leona felt like he should be worried, but all he could think about was how funny Idia’s hair looked after a shower. He’d never thought about what magic curse fire looks like when it gets wet.

“You’re gonna stare a hole in that thing.” He finally remarked.

“I’m trying to figure out what to tell Ortho.” Idia mumbled. “He’s starting his junior year soon and I don’t want him to think he needs to come and look after me.”

“So just tell him that.” Leona yawned. He took up a familiar pose lounging on his own bed, staring lazily in Idia’s direction. “He’ll listen to you, at least.”

“Have you met Ortho?” Idia scoffed. “Half the time I have no clue what’s going through his head, and I’m the one who made him.”

“He trusts you, though.” If there was one thing Leona was sure of, it was that. He’d seen the way they both doted on each other. If Idia said he needed space, Ortho would give it to him.

Idia sighed, but he didn’t say anything. After a few minutes, he finally unlocked his phone and typed something out.

“There, it’s done.” He stood and tossed his phone back on the bed. “Now I’m gonna do my dailies and go the fuck to sleep.”

“That’s a nerd thing, right? Sounds like a nerd thing.”

“Dailies. Daily tasks you can do for extra rewards in-game. I’ve only got a trackpad though, so I’ll have to do it with one of the braindead jobs that don’t require a mouse. DPS it is.”

“I wasn’t asking for an explanation.” Leona groaned, but he filed away the info for later. Just in case he needed it. Peeking one eye open, he glanced into Idia’s open suitcase as he rummaged around for his laptop. He was a little surprised to see it actually had clothes in it, mostly, but a couple board games and a chessboard had been stuffed in there, too.

The chessboard seemed familiar, and after a moment, it struck him. It was the one he’d given Idia for his birthday. The pieces must’ve been stored away in the little blue velvet pouch that had been taped to it.

“You actually kept that old thing?”

“Huh?” Idia looked up at him, then followed his gaze to the chessboard. “Well, yeah. It’s a nice chess set.”

After a moment, a familiar toothy grin appeared on his face. “Aww, are you embarrassed or something? You don’t like that I’m still carrying around evidence of your deredere side?”

“Shut up. I just thought you said it was too fancy to play with.”

“It is, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it.” He faced away from Leona, the ends of his hair turning pink. “I didn’t get a lot of time to pack. I just grabbed whatever important stuff I had.”

Important. Out of all the games, merch and personal belongings Idia had left behind, he’d decided that that chess set was important enough to keep with him. Leona didn’t know what to think about it. He couldn’t tell if he was feeling flattered or sick.

He rolled over, facing the wall, staring at the slowly blinking thermostat. “What a waste. You coulda used that room for your clown suit.” He laughed.

Idia threw a pillow at him.

---

Five Years Ago

Leona woke with a start. It took a moment to decipher where he was as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Nearby shelves were covered in empty glass containers and lab equipment, and the soft surface beneath him felt like the old futon they had dragged in here for a makeshift break area.

He must be in the overflow lab that their group had taken over for their portal project. No wonder he hadn’t recognized it, he had never fallen asleep in here before. Groaning, he sat up. Something soft had been draped across his chest, and when he pulled it away from himself, he was surprised to see the familiar patterns on Idia’s hoodie.

“Oh, good morning. Or evening? Oh, no, wait, it is morning. It’s 3AM.”

The boy in question sat at a lab table behind him, typing away with only the blue light of his high-tech laptop for illumination.

“You’re gonna ruin your pathetic little herbivore eyes.” Leona remarked.

“Shows what you know. My last eye test said I had 20/20 vision.” Idia grinned smugly, but he didn’t look away from his screen.

“Why didn’t any of you wake me up?” Leona asked. He remembered what had happened, now, he had dozed off in the middle of Azul telling them about his latest “acquisition” of dangerous (and probably illegal, not that he cared) materials.

“Yuu told us you haven’t left in like three days.” Idia answered. “So we thought you needed the rest.”

“How the fuck would they know that?” He grumbled. Standing, he let out a long yawn to cover up how annoyed he felt. Figures that Yuu would still be butting into his business, even though they were barely talking anymore.

“They’re here almost as much as you are, and no offense, but you kinda stink. You should go back to your dorm and take a shower.”

“What a waste of time.” Leona sighed. He balled up Idia’s hoodie and tossed it towards him.

“Hey!” Idia yelped when it slapped against his face. “Fine, if you want something to do, check these measurements for me. You have to promise to leave after this, though.”

He slid a few papers across the table. Leona picked them up, scanning over them.

“You’ve been here a longass time, too.”

“Not as long as you. I got some sleep yesterday afternoon. These are peak work hours for me.”

“Weirdo.” Leona picked up a pen and circled two spots. “Go over these again. They’re close, but they could be more precise.”

“Huh? You can read that when it’s this dark?” Idia looked up from his screen, confused.

“Beastman, remember?” Leona tapped the side of his head beside his left eye. “I can see everything in here.”

A weird smile crept across Idia’s face. Leona felt a shiver go up his spine. “Just like a kittycat~” He crooned.

“Call me that again and you’re fucking dead.” Leona growled, tossing the papers back on the table. Idia chuckled, smiling at him knowingly. “What’s so damn funny?”

“You still think I’m scared of you.” Idia propped his head up on his hand, still grinning. It was infuriating. “We all know you’re a sweetheart, deep down.”

Leona huffed. “Don’t go telling everyone. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“Why not? Your popularity would skyrocket if your moe side was public knowledge.”

“Whatever fucking nerd thing you just said to me, I don’t care. I don’t want to be popular.” Leona growled.

“Yeah, I get it.” Idia turned back to his screen. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Leona frowned. Idia was just going to… Wave him off like that? Acting all smug, like he had won some game they were playing? He couldn’t just take that lying down.

So he snatched the laptop, slapped it shut, and tossed it on the futon out of Idia’s reach.

“H-Hey!” Idia squeaked.

“Oh, damn. Sure is dark in here.” Leona said. “Shame about your sad little herbivore eyes.”

“First of all, humans are omnivores,” Idia huffed, stumbling out of his chair. He glared in Leona’s general direction. “Second, you’re an asshole, and third, I can see your eyes just fine, kittycat.”

“Fat lot of good that’s gonna do you.” Leona taunted. “What, you gonna fight me?”

Idia leapt at him, Leona sidestepped him easily, watching him stumble into the back of the futon. Then he reached out and grabbed a fistful of Idia’s hair, not pulling it, just holding it.

“Let go of me, you-!”

“Naaaaw.” Leona tugged at his hair, but not too hard. He wanted to annoy Idia, not actually hurt him. The flames crackled in his fist irritably, transitioning into a red hue at the tips. Leona knew from the times Vil had fussed over Idia’s hair that it couldn’t burn him, but it still felt warm in his hand.

He shouldn’t have been focusing so much on that, though, because Idia grasped his own hair like a rope and jerked him forward, jumping out of the way at the last second.

Leona rolled over the back of the futon, landing with a surprised yell on the seat. He heard the laptop fall and slide across the floor of the lab to god-knows-where. Idia yelped in pain too, and he looked up to realize that he was still pulling on a fistful of blue hair.

“Owowowow! What the fuck, Leona!” Idia hissed. The pained look on his face jolted him back to his senses. He let the mass of hair go, and Idia bundled it up in his arms, stroking it like a sad animal.

The sight was bizarre enough to make Leona laugh, despite the guilty feeling in his chest.

“I’m glad my pain is so funny to you.” Idia grumbled. “Now will you please leave me alone?”

“Why would I do that, when it’s so fun to mess with you?” He replied, gazing backwards up at him. Idia could only barely see his shit-eating grin in the glow of his hair. He was pouting.

“I thought we were friends.” Idia sighed.

Leona felt something grip his heart painfully.

Idia was joking, he knew, but some little shard of doubt had begun to jab into his skin. Idia… was a friend, right? There weren’t a lot of people Leona felt he could say that about. Ruggie, sure. They understood each other in a way that other people didn’t, despite the differences in their personalities and upbringing. Jack, sure. He was a good kid who worked hard, and he was entertaining to have around. Epel, probably. He was funny, and his passion helped keep everyone else motivated.

Yuu? Leona… Wasn’t so sure about that anymore. He was here to help them, but he knew that the way they were ignoring each other was making everyone uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure if he should apologize, still. Or if he would ever get the chance to.

But that uncertainty was bearable, at least with Yuu. Even if they never made up, Leona could still be proud of how hard he was working to get them home.

The thought of Idia ever not thinking of him has a friend made him sick, though. And he still didn’t know why.

“…Sorry.” He said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Idia gave him a small, soft smile. “It’s fine. It was dumb of me to try and fight you in the dark.” He leaned closer, trying to get a better look at him. “You’re okay, right?”

Idia’s pale skin looked almost ethereal, framed by the soft blue flame of his hair. Reflections shimmered in his concerned eyes and on his lips.

Leona thought he looked like a creature from a storybook, emerging from the dark forest to spirit him away to the depths of hell. If he didn’t already know what faeries looked like, he would swear that Idia was one.

“You’re beautiful.” Leona breathed.

Idia’s eyes blew wide. He tried to step back, but Leona stopped him with a touch to his cheek. Idia stared down into his upside-down eyes, searching for something. Maybe an escape.

“…I’m not.” Idia said. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“No.”

“You’re a jerk. You’re a mean kittycat.” Idia whispered, leaning closer. “And you’re a liar, too.”

“I’m not lyin’.” Leona replied.

“Then say it again. Convince me this time.” Idia’s lips hovered over his. Leona felt the warmth of his breath, of his hair spilling over the back of the futon and covering them like a curtain.

“You’re beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beauti-”

Before he could say it again, Idia silenced him with his lips.

Leona gasped into his mouth, pushing himself up to kiss him back. He licked at Idia’s lips to coax them open, slipping his tongue inside. Idia tried to keep up, but Leona could tell that he didn’t really know what to do. But that was fine, he could teach him.

Leona pushed himself up on his knees and broke away for just a moment to turn and face him. Idia was back on him again in a second, a little more confident his time. His hands found their way to the back of Leona’s neck, fingers tangling in his dark hair.

Leona let him own hands settle on Idia’s waist. He felt their hearts pounding in sync, only separated by a few inches of flesh and ribs. One of Idia’s teeth nicked his lips, but he ignored it.

“Beautiful.” Leona murmured against his lips. Idia whined in protest, but he would have to deal with it. He would say it as much as he needed to, until Idia believed it.

He wanted Idia to believe it. He wanted to say hundreds, no, thousands of nice things to Idia, over and over again, and he wanted him to believe every word.

Leona knew he could never make up for all the things that had hurt him, but he wanted to try. At the very least, he wanted Idia to know that he was worth that much effort.

---

“Leona? Why are you still here?”

Leona blinked awake, disoriented by the bright light coming through the open door. Yuu stood at the threshold, arms crossed, frowning.

Wait, why was he asleep in the lab again? He racked his brain, trying to piece together the events of last night-

Oh, right. He had kissed Idia. Had he kissed Idia? He remembered that they had made out for a while on the futon, until the other boy suddenly pulled away from him and stared at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“I-I have to go.” He’d said, pulling his pinkening hair around his face to hide his expression. Then Idia stood and ran out of the room, leaving a stunned beastman behind.

Or had that been a dream? Leona looked down and saw that the hoodie was still draped over his lap.

“I told Idia to send you home when you woke up. Geez, don’t tell me he just left you here?”

“Did he?” Leona mumbled. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. He tasted dried blood.

“He left all his stuff. Wait, is that his laptop?” Yuu noticed the device under the table where their latest prototype was laid out and crawled underneath to retrieve it. “Why’s it all the way over here?”

“Who knows?” Leona lied. “I slept through the whole night, I’m fine.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re fine.” They marched around the futon with the laptop, reaching out as they passed to flick him in the forehead. “Go back to Savanaclaw and take a damn shower. Ruggie’s starting to get worried about you, y’know.”

“Fine, mom.” Leona put up a front of annoyance, but he couldn’t help the relief he was feeling now that they were talking to him again. Even if it was just to scold him.

They even smiled at him, a little, as they tidied up Idia’s stuff. “Your magic math or whatever will still be here after you’ve had a nice break, Leona.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see ya later.”

Satisfied, Leona stepped out into the fresh air of the open hallway. He took a deep breath, some of the fog from his head finally clearing.

But before he started making his way back to his dorm, he took one last glance out at the empty courtyard, searching for a head of bright blue hair. He tried not to be too disappointed when he didn’t see it.

---

Leona could recall every detail of that moment, down to the little fluffballs of fiber that had fallen off Idia’s shirt and gotten caught in his braids. He had gone over it so many times, searching for a reason why Idia had left. Why they had never talked about it afterwards. When they met in the lab the next day, he’d waited for Idia to ask about it. Instead, they’d just slipped back into one of their usual conversations about the project or chess or some anime episode Idia had seen or something.

Pushing it will just scare him away. Leona had thought, but he knew, deep down, that wasn’t true. It used to be, before S.T.Y.X. Before all of them had found out his worst secrets. Idia had already confronted and bested so much worse than this, and Leona had, too. So why was it so much harder to deal with?

The most frustrating thing was that he wasn’t even sure when or why he’d developed feelings for Idia. Maybe it had been at Ramshackle dorm, where they’d played chess while Yuu and the others screamed over videogames in the background.

Maybe it had been one of those many all-nighters they spent together, talking about dry tech stuff until everyone else left and their conversations shifted into something more intimate. Something dark and tranquilizing, something that their friends would never understand.

Maybe it had been during that fight in the Underworld, when he looked into Idia’s eyes and thought Oh. He already knows this isn’t going to work. He just wants to choose the way he dies. Like me.

That understanding had bonded them, somehow. The others had noticed that Leona was nicer to Idia than he was to other people, but they had never gotten the real reason why. They didn’t know about the morbid jokes the two of them told when they were alone, all so they could just feel that cathartic darkness wash over them.

They could find comfort in the fact that they weren’t alone. They could think, “Maybe we aren’t crazy. Maybe the world is just unfair, and we’ve drawn the short straw.”

Leona had missed that, but he didn’t know if Idia did, too. And without their misery to bind them, what exactly were they?

---

Idia's robot brother: Leona Kingscholar!

Have you abducted my brother?!

Leona: well if it aint the brobot

idias fine calm tf down

Idia's robot brother: Then why isn’t he answering my messages!!!

Leona: hes dealin with stuff ok

ill tell him to shoot you a text

Idia's robot brother: I demand proof that he’s unharmed, you normie scum!

Leona: uuuuuuuuuuuggggh y r u like this

You sent a file “ransomphoto.png”

Idia's robot brother: Fine, I’ll accept this, but only because he looks like he’s enjoying his dailies.

I’ll assume your tasteless filename is a joke.

Leona: sweet ive escaped robocops wrath for another day

Idia's robot brother: I’m not a cop, don’t insult me like that.

But he is okay, right?

He’s not sad, is he?

Leona: u sound like a mom tryin to keep her kid from gettin bullied

hes kinda down but i think weve both seen way worse

hell get through it

just dont murder your parents or anything aight

Idia's robot brother: Okay but they’re on thin fucking ice.

They’re not MY parents anyway, they treat me more like ‘Idia’s project’.

He’s the only one who sees me as family.

Leona: damn that’s the saddest shit i ever did read

Idia's robot brother: Oh, I don’t really mind.

They’re awful people, I don’t want them as parents.

Leona: ok cool

fuck em then

*thumbs up emoji*

Idia's robot brother: Fuck ‘em!

*thumbs up emoji*

Leona: where did u learn to say fuck btw

and read chatspeak

Idia's robot brother: Yuu taught me.

They did it to prank Idia.

Leona: i cant believe how not surprised i am by that

Idia's robot brother: Also I have access to the entire internet at all times.

Leona: sounds like hell

Idia's robot brother: It is!

I had to create custom firewalls to hide all the beheading videos and illegal pornography.

Leona: god its a miracle ur not way more fucked up than u already are

Idia's robot brother: It really is, isn’t it?

I have my big brother to thank for that!

I have other important friends too, but he was the one who cared for me when I was just a little baby AI.

So you had better take good care of him, okay?

I know you will, since you inexplicably seem to be fonder of him than you are of other people.

Leona: whoa whoa whoa where r u gettin that from

Idia's robot brother: It’s obvious to anyone with a modicum of emotional intelligence.

So everyone but my brother, basically.

Leona: boom roasted

kind of a mean thing to say tho ngl

Idia's robot brother: It’s not mean if it’s the truth.

I am well aware of Idia’s shortcomings, believe me.

That’s why I want him to spend time with people who will help him overcome them!

I think you might be one of them, Leona Kingscholar!

Leona: u think i can help ur bro improve himself?

so did he program u to be that stupid or was the ai/soul-merging to blame for that

Idia's robot brother: Joke all you like, but all our friends agree with me!

“He’s surprisingly insightful. Shame about his awful personality.” – Jamil Viper

“I would never want Leona as a business rival. He would raze my empire to the ground, and probably steal my spouse while he’s at it.” – Azul Ashengrotto

“He knows exactly how to get under my skin. Eventually, his luck is going to run out. I hope I’m there to see it.” – Malleus Draconia

Leona: wtf did u survey ppl about me

y r all of those so backhanded

Idia's robot brother: I think they’re very good character assessments!

You’re insightful, you’re charming, and you can easily find the weaknesses of others!

Leona: nvm i take back what i said about u not bein fucked up

u should ask idia for a tuneup next time u see him

Idia's robot brother: I feel quite fine, though.

And quite confident about your abilities!

Yes, I think this will be a great experience for him!

Leona: u just accused me of kidnapping him

Idia's robot brother: That’s all in the past!

Leona: it was literally five minutes ago

Idia's robot brother: Details. ------------------------------

Chapter 2 - Cool

“So what’s this job you got, anyway?”

Idia continued pressing buttons on his little handheld console, but he didn’t seem distracted. He was curled up in Leona’s passenger seat, knees pulled tight to his chest. “It’s a company that builds themed attractions for amusement parks and museums. Y’know, animatronics and ride vehicles and stuff. It’s pretty cool.”

Idia was trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, but from the way he bit his lip, Leona could tell that he was holding back his excitement. He probably didn’t want to come off as annoying as overbearing.

So, Leona decided to indulge him a little. “Oh, right. I guess they’re building something like that back home. It seems like something you’d be into.”

“It’s part tech and part art. Totally up my alley. Theme parks are basically irl videogames, anyway.”

“Huh. I’ve never thought about it that way.” Leona furrowed his brow. “Hey, you ever heard of the Shadowlands?”

“What’s that?” Even as he asked, Idia was already pausing his game and searching online for it.

“This tourist attraction in the Sunset Savanna. I wouldn’t call it a theme park, but it’s… Some kinda park. They’ve got some tacky-ass haunted caves and carnival rides there. People mostly know it for the food.”

“Aw, it’s so cute!” Idia said as he scrolled through the image results. “It’s so cheap and kitschy, but you can tell they put a lot of love into the decorations. How’d you find out about this place?”

“Everyone knows it. It used to be this really creepy area that nobody wanted to go to, when I was a cub. But then somebody got the bright idea to buy up all that cheap land and turn it into a little tourist trap.”

“I gotta check it out sometime.” Idia said, grinning in excitement. “I love this. Look at this food stand, they made it look like an elephant skeleton! And one of the haunted caves has real lava running through it!”

“…It’s on the way to the city, y’know.” Leona coughed. “We could stop there, if you want.”

“Oh hell yes.” Idia was practically bouncing in his seat. “This is already giving me so many ideas. It’d be fun to pitch an upgrade to their theming someday.”

Leona turned his face just enough that Idia couldn’t see him smiling. It was good to know that he still had so much passion for stuff like this. He wouldn’t be Idia without it.

They settled into a comfortable silence after that. Idia scrolled through the pictures for awhile before returning to his game. They’d done this a lot, back at school. They’d take a break at the same time and Leona would doze off to the sound of games beeping and booping.

Until, out of the blue, Idia asked: “What have you been up to? Besides driving around, I mean.”

“Nothing.”

“Ah, I get it. Top secret royal duties and stuff, huh?”

“Don’t have those. Literally, I’ve been doing nothing.”

“Really?” Idia glanced over at him. “Nothing at all?”

“Not since I dropped out.” Leona answered, trying not to sound too bitter. “I tried, for a little while. Spent a whole year putting together this plan for reforming our welfare programs, but Falena wouldn’t even look at it. The rich fucks in the Senate wouldn’t like it.”

“Oof. What is it with rich people hoarding a bunch of gold they’ll never be able to spend? It’s like holding onto all your elixirs for when you ‘need’ them and then never using them.” Idia pouted. “But I guess I can’t talk, since I am rich people.”

“Are you really? I thought getting disowned usually meant no more money.”

“I’ve still got my share of the royalties from the portal patent. Honestly, I’m making enough from that right now that I don’t even need this job.”

“Huh.” Leona hadn’t checked on that in ages, but he assumed that he still had a good chunk of royalties lying around as well. “Still, you’re not guillotine-levels of rich anymore, unlike me. So congrats on that.”

“Hooray, I escaped the wrath of the masses.” Idia chuckled. “But it sucks that they wouldn’t look at your plan. I bet it was good. Maybe you should give it to a whistleblower, then everyone will at least know you tried. They might even let you keep your head.”

“I didn’t do it for that.” Leona grumbled. “I just got tired of listening to Ruggie complain all the time.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s why.” Idia smirked at him, and Leona rolled his eyes.

“Quit lookin’ so smug.”

“Smug? I’m not smug at all.” Idia returned to his game, still smiling. “You know, you could try writing.”

Leona glanced at him like he was crazy. “Are you high or something?”

“You’d be good at it! I’ve got tons of screenshots of funny things you’ve texted me. Yuu thinks you’re funny, too.”

“Yuu still thinks memes from 10 years ago are funny.”

“And you think I don’t know how to take a compliment.” Idia shook his head. “If comedy was a stat, yours would be maxed out.”

“Yeah, because I’m a retired clown. This van is so big because I got sick of riding in tiny cars with all the other clowns.”

Idia giggled. The sheepish smile he gave Leona made his heart skip a beat.

“Ya see? People would like that. You could start a blog. Or a youtube channel or something.”

“…I think you’re overestimating how much people care about what I have to say.” He grumbled.

“I care! Ooh, you could review bad movies or something and roast the shit out of them! I’d love to hear your take on Creepy Hollow!”

“I thought you liked that movie.”

“I do, it owns. But real horror movie fans know that sometimes the best horror is cheap, trashy horror. Or, you’re good at improv, you could be a streamer-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. If I wanted to scream into the void of the internet, I’d just play one of your multiplayer games.”

---

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Idia said. He was walking out of the gas station they’d stopped at, arms full of snacks and a cup of some radioactive green slurpee in his hand. Leona just looked at him, flatly, taking another deliberate puff.

“Don’t get on my case about it. I’m gonna die of something, eventually.”

He was testing the waters. But Idia’s face didn’t betray any reaction, negative or positive. He just shook his head and walked around the front of the parked RV to put the snacks away inside.

Leona tossed the barely-burned cigarette to the ground, annoyed.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and, looking for a distraction, he pulled it out and immediately regretted it.

It was Falena.

Right, he’d promised Ruggie that he’d call sometime today. Falena must’ve gotten tired of waiting. He should ignore it, but he knew that his brother would just keep calling until he picked up.

Before he answered, he walked some distance away from the RV so Idia wouldn’t overhear him.

“What do you want.”

“Where the hell are you?” Falena demanded.

“A gas station.”

“You know what I mean, Leona. You’ve had plenty of time to work out your little temper tantrum. Come home, now.”

“Oh, you think this is a temper tantrum?” Leona scoffed. “I’m a fucking adult, Falena. I can go wherever I want, whenever I want.”

“Not when you’re a prince, you can’t.”

“So when I have real ideas for how to run the country I’m just a figurehead, but when you want to control my life I suddenly have princely responsibilities. Right, got it. I see how it is.”

Falena sighed. Leona could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Don’t make me have to be the bad guy, Leona. I hate doing that.”

“Coulda fooled me.” He snapped. “Look, if it’ll get you off my case, I’m already heading back. But it’s not because of your bullshit.”

“Good. When are you going to be here?”

“Who knows. Might be a week. Might be a month. Might drive into the ocean and start a new life as a merman.” Leona deadpanned.

“Very funny. This is childish. All I’m asking you is to give it some thought and-”

A loud rev and a screeching sound interrupted the rest of Falena’s sentence. Leona looked up just in time to see a beat-up sedan scraping against the back of the RV, leaving a huge gash behind.

“What the fuck?!” He yelled.

“Leona? What’s happening?”

“Some fucker just hit my van.” He growled. “Look, we’re done here. I gotta deal with this.”

“Hey! We are not done-”

Leona hung up on him. He stomped over to where the sedan had stopped, fur bristling with rage.

“What the fuck, asshole! I was parked!”

The driver of the sedan opened his door and stood up, glaring at him over the top of the car. He had perky canine ears that were already pulled back in irritation. “Calm down, dude, it was an accident.”

“Accident? What kind of idiot are you? You came barreling in here at like 60 miles an hour, you jackass!”

“Maybe your stupid RV is too goddamn big.” The other man said. The other passengers in his car were getting out now, another beastman and a human woman. “If it was a normal car, I wouldn’ta hit it.”

“What the hell kind of logic is that?!”

“Chill out.” The second man shrugged, like this was just a dumb thing that was above his notice. “Our car’s in worse shape than yours.”

Leona gaped at them. He couldn’t believe the audacity of these people. “You know what? This isn’t even worth it. Give me your insurance.”

“Why should I?” The driver asked. “You come up to me right out the gate screaming at me, and I barely scratched you. Fix it yourself, you look rich enough.”

Leona snarled and took a step forward, his tail lashing wildly behind him.

“Oh, this guy thinks he’s tough.” The second man laughed.

“Justin. Cut it out.” The woman said to the driver. She seemed more embarrassed than anything. “Just give him your insurance.”

“Leave this to us guys, babe. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Don’t talk to her like that. Your girlfriend’s the only one of you with any goddamn sense.” Leona growled. “You have no idea who you’re fucking with right now.”

“Try me, douchebag.”

Leona slapped his palm on the trunk of the sedan and the lid instantly dissolved into sand. The second man, the one closest to him, yelped in surprise and jumped back.

“Oh shit, he’s a mage!”

“The fuck are you doing to my car?!” The driver yelled, marching angrily towards Leona.

“Justin!” The woman said, much more urgently this time.

“Leona.”

Somebody touched his arm. Leona turned sharply towards them, startled. Idia was there, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Stop it. You’re just drawing a bunch of aggro without a healer to back you up.”

“This ain’t the time for your cute little video game references, Idia.” Leona growled, but the rage he’d been feeling was already gone. Idia just shook his head.

His hand still on Leona’s arm, he addressed the angry driver. “Look, I’m sorry about my friend. He got carried away. But you are the one who hit us, so maybe you shouldn’t be trying to start fights with guys like him. Right now you’re like a level 1 slime mob trying to take on the final boss.”

“And now you gotta hide behind your buddy. Coward.” The driver said to Leona. But then the human woman stepped between them, already holding a pencil and a pad of post-its in her hand.

“Justin, I swear to god, if you don’t shut up I am going to leave you here and walk home.” She hissed at him. Justin stared at her in disbelief as she scribbled their info down.

She held it out to Idia when she was done. “Here. I’m sorry about these idiots.”

“Thanks. We’re sorry about all this too.” Idia elbowed Leona. “Right?”

“I’m sorry your boyfriend was dropped on his head as a cub.” Idia sighed at him in exasperation.

“Whatever, that’s good enough.” The woman said. She turned and walked back to the car, dragging Justin with her.

---

“That sure was something.” Idia mumbled when they were finally back in the RV.

“Why did you stop me? I could’ve taken that chump.” Leona huffed as he sat back in the driver’s seat.

“And then gotten arrested for murder. You looked like you were ready to tear his throat out, Leona.”

“Hmph. He would’ve deserved it.” Leona grumpily rested his chin on the steering wheel, waiting for Idia to finish putting the snacks away and get back in his seat.

“Probably, yeah, but that was low-quality bait. You’re better than that.” He slid back in next to Leona, tearing open one of the bags of chips.

“…You didn’t seem scared at all.” Leona realized. “You just walked up and handled it.”

“Uh, yeah.” Idia crunched down on a potato chip. “Somebody had to.”

“You never woulda been able to do that when we were at school.” Leona sat up, looking at him.

“Yeah, I’ve been working on my DEF and RES.” Idia laughed. “I can handle a stupid little parking lot fight with some weak NPCs.”

“…That was cool.” Leona said, under his breath. “You’re cool, Idia.”

Idia froze, another chip halfway to his mouth. His hair was already starting to turn pink.

“I-I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are.” Idia squirmed, hiding his face behind his hands. Like Leona couldn’t tell how flattered and sheepish he was feeling from the pink hair. “You’ve always been cool.”

“B-by the way,” Idia began, trying to deflect, “What’s that big box under your seat? I thought it was a mini-fridge at first, but it has a lock.”

Leona felt a chill go down his spine.

“…Ruggie brought it.” He said, trying to keep his voice even. “He kept his weed in it so we wouldn’t get caught by customs.”

“Is there, uh.” Idia peeked through his fingers at him. “Any left in there?”

“Doubt it. And it’s been like four years, it’d probably be gross as hell. I forgot the combination for it, anyway.” He lied.

“Damn.” Idia grumble, slumping into his seat.

Leona couldn’t help but laugh at his pouting face. “Don’t look so disappointed. You smoke weed now?”

“It helps with my anxiety.” Idia admitted, fiddling with the ties on his hoodie.

“We can find someone to buy from on the way.”

“Really? It’s a pain in the ass to get it on the Island of Woe, I have to get it delivered through the dark web.”

“You talk about shit like the dark web and you still don’t think you’re cool.” Leona shook his head sadly.

“You’ve obviously never been on the dark web if you think it’s cool, it’s just a bunch of middle-aged perverts selling mushrooms out of their sheds.”

---

Leona: yo yuu

u talked to idia lately

plantmuncher dragonfucker: yeah, like two days ago?

why? dont you have his number too?

Leona: ye thats not it

hes stayin w/ me rn

plantmuncher dragonfucker: in the RV???????

why????????????????

Leona: whats with all the ?s

is it that weird he would be w/ me

and it’s a van

plantmuncher dragonfucker: it’s a gd RV leona it’s massive

vans don’t have LOFTS in them

Leona: semantics

anyway i cant tell u why it’s a kinda sensitive issue

but i think hed like it if u reached out to him

plantmuncher dragonfucker: awwww

you’re such a nice guy, leona

Leona: stfu no im not

plantmuncher dragonfucker: top-tier tsundere

Leona: stop talking like him i need to understand at least one of you

plantmuncher dragonfucker: it means you pretend like you don’t care but deep down you really do

Leona: i wasnt asking for an explanation

plantmuncher dragonfucker: youre going to need them if idia is staying with you

honestly sometimes he gets too into it for even me to decipher

like when he busts out the raid terminology

who fucking plays mmos just to memorize strats with names like “stario kart deathwall jenga stack skip”

I just wanna dress up my catgirl in cute outfits and gpose in a nice rp venue

Leona: i dont know what half of those fucking words r

r u gonna text him or not

plantmuncher dragonfucker: of course I will!

Im guessing he’s having one of those moods, huh?

Where he feels awful but he doesn’t want to tell anyone bc he thinks he’s being a burden :(

Leona: not a mood, just some pretty shitty stuff happening

plantmuncher dragonfucker: oh shit

did his parents do something

Leona: i told u im not telling u

plantmuncher dragonfucker: so they did. ugh

what the fuck is wrong with them

hes such a sweet guy and they treat him so bad

Leona: beats me

some ppl dont deserve kids

plantmuncher dragonfucker: fr fr

like my mom lol

i invited him to grind FATEs w/ my free company tomorrow night, we’ll hang out in vc then

Leona: like i said, dont know what that means, gonna assume its good

plantmuncher dragonfucker: ill invite lilia too, that’ll cheer him up

mal is too busy working tho :(

ill have to make it up to him later <3

Leona: brb throwing up

plantmuncher dragonfucker: you guys would like each other if you got over yourselves

and yes I mean him too, i know how he is believe me

Leona: i dont need to get over anything

i question ur taste more and more every day

plantmuncher dragonfucker: i guess you wont be very happy to see what im sending you in the mail then

Leona: oh my god

ur getting married arent u

fuck u so much

plantmuncher dragonfucker: loooooooool

now that I think of it you don’t have a mailbox rn so I might as well ask you here

come to my wedding leona!!! itll be so fun!!!

it’s an open bar!!!!!!! marrying rich rules!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Leona: arent u a lil young for this

plantmuncher dragonfucker: im 3 years older than you.

and he’s 269.

Leona: nice

plantmuncher dragonfucker: nice

Leona: ofc u would know exactly how fucking old he is

just tell me whats the date

im only going bc i know hell be fucking furious when he sees me in the audience

plantmuncher dragonfucker: you’d be surprised! he’s mellowed out a lot since then

he might even be happy to see you

Leona: doubt it

plantmuncher dragonfucker: it’s October 31st of next year, so it’s a ways off.

Leona: a halloween wedding huh

i guess u do have taste

plantmuncher dragonfucker: of course I do <3

we’re gonna go all-out on goth shit

all black attire required

maximum spoopage

Leona: congrats i cant wait to watch the bloodbath

ur horrible face will give everyone two heart attacks instead of just the one

ill bring mirrored sunglasses for when ur walking down the aisle

im hoping theyll reflect ur deathgaze back on u like medusa

plantmuncher dragonfucker: joke’s on you bitch ill wear sunglasses too

we can ping-pong the death magic back and forth until it bounces off one of us weird and hits a bird or something

Leona: bet

plantmuncher dragonfucker: hey, don’t worry too much about idia

Leona: im not worried

plantmuncher dragonfucker: yes you are. you only text me so we can roast each other ruthlessly and reinforce our eternal bond of friendship

you don’t talk about other people unless I bring them up

Leona: that cant be right

ur full of shit

plantmuncher dragonfucker: deny it all you want, you’re not as mysterious as you think you are

look I bet he’s really glad you care

but he’s been doing a lot better over the past few years, so you don’t need to baby him

just be there for him when he needs it

Leona: thx for the advice love guru

plantmuncher dragonfucker: I never said anything about love idiot

haha gotcha

Leona: fuck

plantmuncher dragonfucker: btw do you still have me saved as “plantmuncher dragonfucker” in your phone

Leona: ye

plantmuncher dragonfucker: change it or ill photoshop your face onto pictures of cute cats and post them to magicam

I have vil in my camp and he’s going to like them all, it’s guaranteed to go viral

Leona: not until u stop munching plants and fucking dragons

plantmuncher dragonfucker: NEVER

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

Chapter 3 - Overwhelmed

It only took an hour or two of asking around to find out where to get weed in the next city. Idia stowed it away in the massive pockets of his hoodie, already grinning in anticipation.

“You don’t get weird when you’re high, do you?”

“Not really. I wasn’t joking about it being for anxiety.”

“Good to know.” Leona really wouldn’t have minded, as long as he was enjoying himself.

They were nearly at the border of the Kingdom of Heroes, now, about to cross into the Shaftlands. They had a whole month, but if they hurried, they could get back in about two weeks.

Leona… Didn’t want to do that. The longer he could avoid the Sunset Savanna, the better. But Idia probably wanted to get there as soon as possible. He would need time to find an apartment, get furniture, get all his stuff in order…

For now, though, they were free. They still had time. He still had time.

They’d come to the downtown area for this, ending up on a little shopping street that locals had called “sketchy”, but Leona suspected they actually meant “poor”. All the stores were grungy little mom-and-pop affairs fitted into worn out buildings that had probably been around for over a hundred years. Some kids were playing basketball on a side street, and they passed a tiny taco stand where an ancient boombox was blasting music into the street. It still sounded pretty good. Even the drug dealer had been pleasant to them. Maybe a little too pleasant.

This place was downright cozy in comparison to the slums he’d visited after becoming friends with Ruggie.

Beside him, Idia’s steps faltered for a moment. Leona turned to catch him looking at a store with a large display of comics and board games in the window. He looked up at the cheap sign hanging over the window, it read “Kevin’s Komix & Games”.

“You wanna go in?” He asked.

“W-We don’t have to.” Idia said, ducking into his hoodie to hide his face.

Leona rolled his eyes. Honestly, what did he think he was gonna do? Shove him in a locker? He walked past Idia and opened the door himself, striding into the overly air-conditioned little storefront.

The cashier (Kevin, maybe?) gave him a welcoming wave, then returned to the trading cards he was putting away in a glass case near the front. Leona looked around at the small room. The shelves were neat and tidy, all the latest issues out on display and the older stuff in long boxes on a nearby table. One of the shelves was entirely board games and tabletop rpgs. In the back, there was just enough room for a rack of figurines and a few little tables where some games were already set up.

It only took Leona a moment to see the whole thing, and when he turned around Idia already had his arms loaded up with board games and a stack of half a dozen comics.

He stared at Leona. “I’m supporting local businesses.”

“I didn’t say anything.” But Leona felt his face twitch into a smile, just for a second.

“I need to replace the stuff I had to leave at home, okay?” Idia huffed, bringing his purchases up to the glass counter. 

Leona hung back, a tiny spinning rack of postcard ads and little zines on the other end of the counter catching his attention. He spun it around idly, until he noticed that one of the cards had today’s date on it. Curious, he picked it up. A cute little mascot character was printed on it, along with photos of people in various costumes.

“10th Annual CON-ACLYSM Pop Culture Convention! One weekend only!

Games! Cosplay! Panels! Shows! Maid Cafes!

Come join us to celebrate 10 YEARS of fun and fandom!”

“Uh-oh.” Leona said.

“What is it?” Idia asked, walking up with his newly-bought big bag of nerd stuff.

“Looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for another day.” He turned the postcard towards Idia, smirking at the way his face lit up. Damn, it was cute.

---

Okay this probably wasn’t worth it.

Leona didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t hundreds of people carrying around wooden prop weapons and recording absurd little dances in the courtyard outside. Through the glass walls he could see a massive line already forming at all the food trucks, even the one that was just hot dogs. People were staring at him, for some reason. A couple behind them in the registration line had been arguing about which of them was Bulma and which was Vegeta for the past 30 minutes. Leona didn’t know who those people were. When he asked, Idia just said that only a Bulma and a Vegeta would argue about something that stupid.

Overexcited teens chattered loudly in their little cliques, some dude was playing an anime song on a ukelele while a couple girls in costumes sang along, and a rowdy group of guys were screaming over a match of some trading card game like they were watching a knife fight. Idia should have hated this, but when Leona glanced over at him, he was practically vibrating with excitement.

He had the program booklet open in his hand and seemed to be comparing it to the schedule on their website. “Okay, we gotta go to the maid café. The one at 5 would probably be the best, but that means missing out on the ‘LGBTQ+ in Fandom’ panel.”

“Sounds like homophobia.” Leona joked.

“Absolutely.” Idia nodded. “This is the most homophobic thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Isn’t there one at 3?” Leona asked, leaning over the little booklet. He didn’t really want to go, but Idia seemed really excited for it.

“But that overlaps with the costume contest. If I have to make a choice, I’d rather miss out on the panel.”

“So you were the true homophobe all along.”

“Shut uuuup.” Idia groused, smacking his arm lightly.

Leona only felt truly lost once they had gotten their badges and been dumped out into this sea of nerds. He could barely comprehend some of the stuff going on around him. But Idia expertly navigated the crowded corridors, dragging him along.

Occasionally Idia would spot someone with a cool costume and ask for a picture. Talking to these strangers seemed to come so naturally to him, and Leona could barely believe it.

“Who’s that guy dressed as?” He asked, after Idia got a picture of a man in an impressive robot costume. It had been painted with a realistic patina and even had working lights.

“No idea.” Idia answered. He scrolled through all the pictures he’d taken so far, a complete mis-mash of disparate styles, genres and time periods. A gritty-looking samurai woman, a girl in a gothic lolita dress with enormous pigtails, some character with giant wings that could actually spread out, a superhero with an impressive custom-fitted suit, a fursuit. “I just like costumes that are well-constructed. It helps me come up with ideas for my own.”

Oh, yeah. Idia had always been into that stuff, right? The Halloween of their third year sprung to mind.

“Whatever happened to that knight costume?” Leona asked.

“I had to leave it at home. It was too bulky to take with me.” Idia answered. The happy expression he had been wearing slowly faded. Ah, damn it. “Well, it kinda got the crap beat out of it that year anyway. It was close to falling apart. And it didn’t help that you cut off some of those vines I hand-made.”

“What? I did that?” Leona blinked. He couldn’t remember that at all.

“I tripped over you and they got tangled with your tail. You don’t remember?”

“Man, I sure did get tripped over and stepped on a lot back then.” Leona grumbled.

“You did spend like 90% of your time sleeping on the ground.”

“It was 70% at most.”

In between panels and shows, Idia dragged him to the artist’s alley and exhibitor’s hall. Leona was surprised and kind of impressed by all the carefully crafted artwork and merch. Big companies didn’t put real love into it like these people did. He ended up buying crochet plushies of the meerkat and warthog characters from a cartoon that he knew Cheka liked.

“And you keep trying to convince me you’re not a tsundere.” Idia remarked, smirking. Leona whacked him in the back with the plastic bag he was carrying the plushies in.

People were still looking at him, and he couldn’t figure it out. Leona thought he just stood out, at first, but the longer he was here, seeing what a wide variety of people there were around him, the less sense that made. He’d already passed a half dozen tall, fit, intimidating guys in dark clothes today, and none of them were getting weird looks like he was.

He felt… Out of place here. Like he was intruding on something, and everyone was just too nice to tell him. It was uncomfortable. Idia stopped to talk with one of the artists and he unconsciously tried to hide himself in a dark gap between some booths, out of the way. Was this the way Idia felt all the time?

Across the aisle, he spotted a middle-aged man carrying a giant stuffed cartoon animal under his arm, while a costumed little girl who Leona assumed was his daughter skipped ahead. He made eye contact with the man, and they exchanged a nod of silent understanding.

“Hey. Can I see your keys?” Idia asked, smiling mischievously. Leona raised an eyebrow at him.

“What for?”

“It’s nothing bad, come on.” Idia held his hand out, Leona sighed and dropped the keys in his palm.

After a moment of fiddling, he handed them back. “Here.” Idia said.

Leona’s keys now had an extra acrylic charm clipped to them. Decorated with a cute little drawing of a smirking brunette in a pink dress, it looked completely absurd on his plain keyring.

“The hell is this?” Leona asked, staring at it. Its smug aura mocked him.

“She’s the heroine of Star Rogue. The main character’s love interest.” Idia answered. “You don’t think she looks like your echo fighter?”

“Are you asking if she looks like me? Because no, duh. For starters, she’s a drawing.” Leona huffed.

“I was kidding, of course she doesn’t look like you. But she’s a total tsundere and she’s super snarky.” Idia reached out again to flip the keychain out so it was more visible. “She’s one of the best characters, tbh. Real waifu material. Even the actress who played her in the movie was pretty hot, for 3D.”

Hm. So Idia did like “3D”, sometimes.

“She can be a real flatterer when she wants to be, too…” Idia added under his breath.

“She sounds like an asshole.” Leona remarked. He smirked when he saw Idia’s jaw drop, more offended at that than anything Leona had ever said.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d watched the movie!” Idia protested. “Well, really you should play the game, but we don’t have time for that. But she gets a really good character arc! She starts out as a villain and then her love for the hero redeems her.”

“Isn’t that a spoiler?”

“Spoilers don’t matter. It’s the journey there that matters. And the movie came out like 15 years ago, you should know what happens by now.” Idia said, pouting at him.

---

“How can all of them be sold out?” Leona growled, like he could intimidate the vending machine into conjuring up more drinks. It seemed the only things left were a few waters and some gross-looking lime sodas that he had never seen before in his life.

“It’s always like this at cons, they don’t bother to keep it stocked because they want you to pay $5 for a coke at the concession stand.” Idia explained as he put money into the machine. He ended up getting one of the lime sodas, but when he cracked it open and took a sip he grimaced. “Yuck. This is like the opposite of hydration.”

“Don’t drink it, then.” But Idia ignored him and took another big chug.

There wasn’t a lot of space to take a break in these crowded hallways, so they took up a post against the wall outside one of the panel rooms. It was nice to just people-watch like this, especially in such an indulgently nerdy atmosphere.

“You’re gonna think this is dumb,” Idia said, “But part of the reason I like going to things like this is because I don’t stand out. People here just look at my hair and assume I’m cosplaying a character they don’t recognize. They don’t stare at me or act all weird about it.”

“Yeah, now they’re just starin’ at me because I look like I belong in a biker bar.” Leona remarked, glancing around at the half dozen or so people who were eyeing him warily.

“No, they’re staring at you because you look like a character from this game that’s popular right now.” Idia pulled his phone from his pocket, and after a quick search he held it up to show Leona a picture.

“What the fuck.” He was looking at what could easily be a drawing of himself, just with a neater hairstyle and wearing a fancy kimono.

“Yeah, when his banner was first announced I was like ‘lol Leona is gonna be so pissed’.” Idia flashed him a grin. “His personality is totally different from you, though, so I think it was just a coincidence. You’re a tsundere, he’s the gentlemanly character with a secret dark past.”

“Unbelievable...”

“Hold on.” Leona looked at Idia. His grin had gotten… Worryingly large. “I just had a great idea, brb.”

“Wait, where are you-?!” But Idia ignored him, taking off into the crowded exhibitors’ hall. Leona huffed and settled in to wait for him, cross-legged on the floor.

Idia returned a few minutes later, carrying a large black plastic shopping bag. He reached down to tug at Leona’s arm, rousing him from a half-dazed state. “Come on, let’s go!”

“Go where?”

“The bathroom. You need to get changed.”

---

Leona didn’t feel any less confused once the garment was on him. The style and fit were completely unfamiliar to him. At least there were pants (“Hakama”? Whatever that was.) included, even if they were massive baggy things that might as well have been a skirt.

“I knew it’d look great.” Idia bragged, like dragging someone into a bathroom to put on anime clothes was a totally normal thing to do.

“I look like the top of a broken umbrella.”

“No you don’t. You look like all the other cosplayers here. Better, actually. You could win a contest, but only scrubs enter cosplay contests with store-bought stuff.” Idia rummaged around in the messenger bag he’d been carrying and pulled out a makeup kit.

“You have makeup?”

“I thought something like this might come up.”

“Why would you ever think something like this might come up.”

“You clearly haven’t been to a con before, Leona. You gotta be prepared for anything.” Idia popped open the makeup kit and set it on the counter.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Idia ignored him. Brandishing an assortment of brushes, he closed in on Leona. The beastman sighed and closed his eyes, accepting his fate.

It was kind of pleasant, actually, having Idia put makeup on him. The brushes felt soft and cool on his skin. He leaned in a little, eyes still closed, and felt one of Idia’s knuckles brush his cheek accidentally.

Leona hadn’t worn any makeup since that stupid fairy gala. It wasn’t like he hated it, sometimes he even wanted to wear it, but he never had the energy in the mornings to bother with all that.

Maybe Idia would be around for one of those mornings. Maybe he would help him do it.

“Okay, done.” He heard Idia say. Opening his eyes, he glanced sideways at the mirror.

“I don’t look any different.”

“You don’t need much, especially since you already look like the character.” Idia explained as he started putting his stuff away. “Now if you were crossplaying, we’d need to do a lot more prep for that.”

“Do I want to know what that is?”

“Here’s a hint: the ‘cross’ part comes from ‘crossdressing’.”

Leona sighed. “No fucking thanks. I already look weird enough in this.”

“There are a few characters who’d be a good choice for you.” Idia smirked at him. “Buff ladies are pretty popular lately. You’ll get a bunch of obnoxious simps following you around and calling you ‘mommy’ all day, though.”

“If you’re trying to convince me to do it, you’re doing a shitty job.” Leona said.

“Hey, you might like it! You should try it out sometime… Maybe in private.”

Idia was still smirking at him. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing. Well, two can play at that game.

“Why do you want to get me in women’s clothes so bad, Idia?” Leona laughed. He took a step closer, forcing Idia to back up a little.

“It’s fun to get out of your comfort zone sometimes, isn’t it?” Idia replied, unfazed.

“You know how weird that sounds coming from you?”

“Hm. I guess it does.”

Leona kept moving forward, until the other man’s back was against the wall. Idia didn’t look scared, though. If anything, he looked satisfied. Like this had been his plan all along.

“You’re talking like you have some experience with this ‘crossplay’ thing.” Leona leaned into his space, voice low.

“I’ve done it a couple times.” Idia replied. “Never in public. I did take some pictures, though.”

Idia reached out like he was about to adjust Leona’s costume, but all he did was run his fingers along the edge of his collar, barely brushing against his skin. His hand settled where the fabric overlapped, just beneath Leona’s clavicle, and stayed there.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing those sometime.” Leona said.

Leona placed his hand on the wall beside Idia’s head. For some reason, that was what made his face finally erupt into a furious blush. Huh. He would have to ask about that later.

“I… I wouldn’t mind… showing… you…?” Idia mumbled, his eyes darting between Leona’s face and the arm that he’d braced against the wall.

Maybe it was his predator instincts, but Leona knew when he had struck a killing blow. He cupped Idia’s cheek, more to soothe his nerves than anything. Yellow eyes met his and finally stayed there.

“I bet you look beautiful in them.” Leona said.

Idia drew in a sharp breath. His hand on Leona’s chest curled into a fist, bunching up the fabric of his costume and pulling him forward.

A loud clanging rang out as someone inside a stall kicked their door.

“Oh my GOD would you two get a room already! Nobody wants to hear you fuck in a bathroom!”

Idia’s face went pale, and Leona was pretty sure that his had too. They scrambled to grab their stuff off the counter and ran outside.

---

“So? How’d you like it?”

After hours of following Idia around his convention and getting asked for way too many photos, they had finally gotten tired enough to leave and return to the RV. Idia convinced him to watch Star Rogue on his laptop, the two of them sitting way too close on the loveseat under the loft.

“It was good.” Leona admitted. “I can see why it was so popular. The character writing was pretty solid for a two-hour movie.”

“If you liked that, you should play the game.” Idia said, grinning at him. “You get to spend 30+ hours with them then!”

“Meh, I’ll just watch a Let’s Play.” Leona shrugged. He was messing with him, but it was still funny to watch Idia get mad about it.

“You can’t just watch somebody play Star Rogue! You have to experience it for yourself!”

“I could watch you play Star Rogue.” Leona countered. “How would that work as a compromise?”

Idia reacted exactly like he expected: by overthinking what he was actually saying and interpreting it in the flirtiest way possible. His face and hair both turned a bright, soft pink.

“I’ll watch you play it” -> “I want to watch you play it” -> “I want to spend time with you and see this thing you like”. Idia’s thought process was kind of like an open book to him at this point, and it was cute to watch him go through it.

“…That’d work.” Idia eventually squeaked out. “Y-you’ll have to come visit me once I’m settled in, we can do it then.”

“I was already plannin’ to.” Leona smiled warmly at him.

“G-Guess I’ll have to put together a guest room fit for a prince!” Idia laughed, nervous.

“I used to sleep on the ground, Idia. Voluntarily.”

“O-Oh. Right.” Idia said, unable to meet his eyes.

Idia’s body felt warm against his. The longer they sat on that tiny loveseat, the more he noticed it. But he didn’t hate it. Quite the opposite, actually. He wondered how Idia felt about it.

“…Hey. Can I ask you something?” Leona asked.

“Hm? You wanna know something else about Star Rogue?”

“No. Why’d you kiss me in the lab that one night?”

Idia nearly dropped his laptop.

“D-Don’t just bring up the cringiest moment of my life out of the blue like that!”

“So it was cringey, huh.” Leona lifted an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean! Th-the kiss wasn’t cringey, the way I acted was.” He moved to pull his hair closed like a curtain. Realizing he didn’t have it anymore, he instead hid his face behind his hands. “Trying to act all smooth and flirty, like some normie…”

“And running away?”

“I was… overwhelmed.” Idia whimpered. “Th-that was the first time I ever…” He trailed off, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what he meant.

“I’m not mad about it.” Leona said. “I just wanted to know. Kinda thought I fucked up, but then you turned up the next day and acted like it never happened.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Idia sat up, gradually pulling his hands from his face. “I wasn’t very good at dealing with… that. I’m still not.”

“You’re telling me that the Idia Shroud didn’t turn into a total playboy once he graduated? What a surprise.” Leona laughed. Idia pouted at him. He closed the laptop and put it back on top of his nearby suitcase.

“It’s not like I didn’t go on any dates! Just, uh, none that led to anything serious.” Idia wasn’t hiding his face anymore, but he still couldn’t look directly at Leona.

“Huh. Well, they must’ve had awful taste if they didn’t want to snatch you up ASAP.”

“You see!” Idia suddenly grew animated, leaning forward into Leona’s space and jabbing a finger in the beastman’s face. “Nobody ever said things like that to me! How was I supposed to date anyone after hearing otome game dialogue like that?”

“I’m not even saying anything that weird.” Leona said, genuinely confused.

“Yes you are! You do! When I make jokes about myself, you’re the only one who takes it seriously. You’re the only one who’s like ‘no, shut up, you’re great actually’. It’s weird!”

“That can’t be right.” Leona scowled. He felt his ears flatten to his head. Had he really been that obvious? This whole time? “Yuu says stuff like that, too.”

“But Yuu is nice to everyone. Because they’re a crazy person and they don’t care if they get an emotional debuff. They just brush it off, like mitigating a tankbuster.” Idia paused, trying to put together his thoughts.

“You’re not. You’re only nice to people when they deserve it. Except for me, for some reason.”

“You do deserve it.”

“Uuuuugh no I don’t! You’re not getting it at all!” Idia sunk in his seat, exasperated. “When stuff like that comes from tsuntsun characters, it’s super effective.”

“So what I’m getting is, I’m such a big jerk that me complimenting you makes you even more embarrassed than usual?”

“It sounds mean when you say it like that, but yeah, basically.”

“You shouldn’t have told me that.” Leona leaned forward, propping his chin up on his palm. “Because now I’m going to do it more.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Oh Idia, you’re so great.” He said, grinning. “You’re the smartest guy I know. And handsome, too.”

Idia slumped even further off the loveseat, almost on the floor. “You’re going to kill me, Kingscholar.”

---

Leona had almost fallen asleep when he heard his phone vibrate on the hotel nightstand where it was charging. Letting out a little huff of annoyance, he turned in his bed and picked it up. In the gloom, he could see Idia in the other bed, his back turned to him.

Leona didn’t want to disturb him, so he rolled on his other side to check whatever message he’d gotten.

---

radish sprout sent a file “megcosplay.png”

radish sprout sent a file “megcosplay2.png”

radish sprout sent a file “megcosplay3.png”

radish sprout sent a file “megcosplay4.png”

radish sprout: you said you wanted to see them so uh

here they are

to pay you back for cosplaying for me

Leona: dude ur literally right next to me u coulda just showed me on ur phone

lmao

radish sprout: that would be way too embarrassing sahasdhhaf

besides I thought you might

want to save them

yknow, for whatever

Leona: i do thx

u look good

radish sprout: no I don’t I look creepy

there’s a reason I never wore it in public lol

Leona: shut up u look good

is that the star rogue girl

radish sprout: yeah

don’t post these anywhere ok

Leona: i wouldn’t do that

my eyes only

radish sprout: sdasfhfadfdasfa ---

Leona smirked to himself. He saved the photos to his phone and then stuck it under his pillow, eventually dozing off into a deep, comfortable sleep.

He was definitely going to jerk off to those later.

---

Idia’s robot brother sent a file “idia_052322_01.png”

Leona: whats this for

Idia's robot brother: It’s a photo of my brother!

Leona: i can see that genius

y r u sending it to me

Idia's robot brother: Because I noticed that you don’t have any recent pictures of him in your photo gallery.

These are from his graduation a few months ago!

Doesn’t he look happy?

Idia’s robot brother sent a file “idia_052322_02.png”

Idia’s robot brother sent a file “idia_052322_03.png”

Leona: ye

he does

wait how do u know whats in my photos

Idia's robot brother: :)

Leona: dont u “:)” at me

ugh w/e.

did u take these

Idia's robot brother: Yep!

I had a classmate help me, though.

She held up the reflectors for us.

Leona: wait so this was like a serious photoshoot

howd u get him to agree to that

Idia's robot brother: I bribed him with a limited edition figure of one of his favorite characters, signed by the voice actor.

At least, I meant to bribe him with it, but he agreed to do it as soon as I asked.

So it ended up being a graduation present, I suppose?

Leona: wow

he rly will do anything for u, huh

Idia's robot brother: Not always.

A few years ago, anything out of his comfort zone was out of the question.

I think he only started really trying during the Starsending.

Oh, speaking of which!

Idia’s robot brother sent a file “idia_stars_01.png”

Idia’s robot brother sent a file “idia_stars_02.png”

Idia’s robot brother sent a file “idia_stars_03.png”

I took these before I had any formal training, so the compositions and lighting are pretty bad.

But I was able to edit them into something passable.

Leona: wut r u talking about these look amazing

Idia's robot brother: Only because Idia kept my specs really high back then, so I had a good high-res image to work with.

Leona: have u showed him these yet

Idia's robot brother: No, he says he doesn’t want to remember anything “cringey”.

Leona: awesome

ill turn em into giant posters and put em all over the van

Idia's robot brother: Because he looks good in them and you want to prove him wrong?

Leona: no bc itll embarrass the hell out of him

that thing u said is true too tho

hes rly sweaty, damn

i dont remember the costume showing so much of his arms

Idia's robot brother: Please don’t talk about how sexually attractive you find my brother in front of me.

Leona: all i said was he looked sweaty wtf

Idia's robot brother: I’ve seen the kinds of pictures you have saved.

Hm, but it looks like I deleted four of them from my memory banks.

I wonder what those could have been?

Leona: who knows i guess itll always be a mystery that we never need to look into again

and about that

dont snoop in my phone anymore, thx

didnt Idia teach u about privacy laws

Idia's robot brother: I normally don’t, I promise.

I only checked briefly because I wanted to see if you had any shots of him that are half as good as mine.

Leona: cocky, arent u

Idia's robot brother: Isn’t any student of the arts?

We have to be, it distracts us from the reality of our jobless futures.

Leona: y would u need a job ur a robot

Idia's robot brother: Jobs aren’t always about money and possessions.

Art has historically been undervalued despite its importance in society. Without it, we wouldn’t have any of the material comforts that enrich our lives.

If fae had never created weather and plant life, we would have no food.

If humans had never painted on cave walls, we would have no writing systems.

If beasts had never built their first dens, we would have no architecture.

The foundation of civilization is built on art, but modern society only affords the elite or the lucky the privilege to pursue it. How rich are the cultures that have been destroyed by unscrupulous capitalists exploiting our need for food, shelter and stability?

As a robot, I’m very fortunate that I don’t have the same physical limitations as organic lifeforms. Therefore, I have an obligation to keep creating, for the sake of the artists who have had to give up on their passions to survive.

Leona: wow

that really was a wholeass lecture on art

given to me by a robot

u rly r something, ortho

i dont think ive ever cared about somethin that much

Idia's robot brother: Is it really that impressive?

I was reading that verbatim from an art history paper I wrote when I was a freshman.

I got a “C” on it.

Leona: dont pull back the curtain too far dude ur ruining it

its still good tho ur prof musta been a dumbass

Idia's robot brother: Oh he was.

I had an argument with him about whether videogames count as interactive art. He didn’t like me much after that.

I’m pretty sure that’s why he gave me a “C”.

Leona: sounds hilarious tell me more

Idia's robot brother: I showed Okami to that ungrateful motherfucker and he still wouldn’t listen.

Leona: some ppl have no taste ortho

if ur gonna be an artist ur gonna have to accept that

Idia's robot brother: You’ve never even heard of that game, have you.

Leona: no

Idia's robot brother: Normies…

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

Continued ->

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst fanfic #leona kingscholar #idia shroud #twst leona #twst idia #idia #leona #leoide #tw suicide #tw depression #tw self-harm #kiss me in the dark

[evolvingstatesofmind]

hey! regarding your ask, anything really! Dallas is still a few chapters away so im not 100% sure what im gonna focus on yet, but im mostly looking for general vibes, scenery, how are the citizens there (polite? rude? indifferent?) food, things to do, and tourist traps lol. also, is the city walkable? hows traffic?

thanks!

For vibe I mean Dallas is in the culturally South part of the state, so Southern hospitality is a major thing here. Most people are nice and helpful if you are back. Dallas is more liberal than most places, but less so than Austin or San Antonio.

You’ll probably be interested in Deep Ellum, our major cultural neighborhood. https://www.deepellumtexas.com/explore/

It’s walkable, unlike the rest of the city. Smaller concert venues like the Factory (formerly the Bomb Factory) than our major AT&T Stadium in the arts district proper. Deep Ellum has a lot of Brew pubs, quirky shops, and awesome murals. There’s plenty of pics on instagram of greet spots for pics. Safe to walk around in daylight, less so at night but what city isn’t. Twisted Root is always a major favorite restaurant that celebs stop at. It’s a burger joint know for burgers with different meats (like kangaroo) and assigning customers celebrity names for their food orders. Louie Louie is a popular piano bar with dueling pianos that is always packed.

In regards to transport outside of Deep Ellum, I recommend driving. Lots of people use Uber/Lyft, if not their own cars, but there is also the DART (train) and bikes/scooters for rent. Scooter tours of the city are popular.

You do NOT want to spend extended time outside in August in direct sun, as temps can regularly reach upper 90s and Texas sun is no joke. Near Deep Ellum is the Dallas Farmers Market. It’s a complex of smaller shops, an indoor dinning building with small stall restaurants in the shape of a large tin sided barn. Out front of that is the Shed, a very large covered pavilion that houses the vendor stalls. There’s anything from the traditional farm spread, to various small business selling lotion, vintage tees, art, etc.

People might want you to mention JFK. The Sixth Floor museum is boring as hell. There is an X in the middle of the road where Kennedy was shot. I always see Tourists try and take pics of it or try to stand on it. Which is the Stupidest Thing, since the street is still a major roadway is a congested city.

Also we have this in the arts district. Terrifying at night all lit up. Perot museum nearby has a T-Rex in the window visible from highway.

Klyde Warren Park is a park over a highway in the arts district. Good food trucks.

Reunion Tower, the building with the ball on top that you see in Dallas skyline, has a restaurant on top that rotates 360 degrees. Might be a good dinner date setting.

Fort Worth is also part of the metroplex with the Stockyards for shopping. Most tourists get a Stetson or some boots as their Texas souvenir.

Let me know if you need more.

[galadrieljones]

As You Were (Chapter 8)

Fandom: The Last of Us | Pairing: Joel x OC | Content: Fix-it | Rating: Mature

Masterpost

When Joel and Ellie take a wrong turn on their journey from Pittsburgh to Wyoming, they find themselves lost in what feels like a time warp: a beautiful place with a dark and dangerous secret, filled with painful reminders of the past. But they aren’t alone. When they meet Cici and Noah, a mother and son fighting tirelessly for survival, things change. For those with little hope to spare, family is what you make it.

This is an AU, starting after the events of the Summer chapter in the first game, and extending into the timeline of the second.

*cw: canon-typical violence, blood

Chapter 8: La Crosse (Pt. 2) / The Lapp Farm (Pt. 2)

"Jury's still out. But, man. You can't deny that view."

As Joel and Noah worked their way through the city, nothing much changed, at first. The buildings were empty. Many were boarded up, but not all of them. Little streams and creeks seemed to have broken through the bluffs, coming in off the La Crosse River and now flowed in skinny little ribbons in the empty lots and fields. Looking upon them was paradoxical, for the water was enticing in its visual clarity, but both Joel and Noah knew the truth. There was not much wildlife, and this brought into the world a worrisome quiet beyond the sound of the wind in the trees. The sun came down even still and brought color to the parking lots, all of them overgrown with tall grasses and ponds. The cordyceps in the water did not seem to affect the flora. It was a pretty place, Joel thought, despite its indifference toward human life.

As they crossed the city, Joel could tell they were getting closer to pure, raw nature, as the greenery thickened, and the buildings and houses became increasingly sunken by floods and overtaken by trees and their massive root systems. He knew from the map that the campus was more or less nestled within a great many bluffs, which rose up like grassy table tops, and the Mississippi was less than two miles to the west. Little purple flowers grew everywhere, and they started seeing mushrooms, too, growing on some of the blackened moldy walls of fallen structures, and so Joel and Noah did not get too close.

They just kept following the signs for the Circle of the Holy Signal, and headed straight toward Centennial Hall at the central campus. At times, Joel thought that perhaps he was being watched, through the windows in the residential neighborhoods, but this was hard to put his finger on. Even in the natural wreckage, there were so many houses, small and intact, lined up in rows across many blocks, that he consistently found himself wondering what could be inside. They found a German Shepherd recently dead by what appeared to be a gunshot wound, lying by the side of the road near a middle school. While they had been crouched low, trying to determine exactly how long ago it had been killed, another dog came up with its tail wagging. This one was some sort of lab mix, and it looked lost and starving as it sniffed at their hands excitedly. Joel scrubbed it behind the ears once and then reluctantly bid it to flee. They had nothing for it. This was a sad and desolate place.

After they had walked more than two miles, they started to see actual signs of the campus, which was promising as well as foreboding. School flags that had survived, still flapping off the street lights, and crimson banners for the football team. There were take-out restaurants and bars with their windows bashed in, some of them still advertising discounts for students as well as a UW Credit Union. They walked down Main Street for a while, passing many Lutheran churches, sometimes more than one on a single block. Some of the churches had been co-opted and hung with banners that read Worship Circle, another tell of their mystery cult. Those churches in particular were so overgrown with the mushroom, they looked like beautiful death flowers, and Joel bid them to put on their gas masks just for the time being, as he was worried about spore levels, even in the open air.

At some point, they came upon a school store. It still had mannequins in the window and the doors were locked up with a heavy chain. Joel stopped to look around and Noah leaned against a stop sign to drink some water.

“What’s your take on this place?” he said eventually. "Do you have any like, feelings about it?"

Joel was examining the chain around the door handles. “My take is, this might be a fool’s errand.” He had a small screwdriver and lock pick, given to him by Bill back in Lincoln. “But I have been known to make my fair share of foolish decisions over the years. Anyway, this town seems fairly dead.”

“We can go back,” said Noah. He was holding the water bottle, soaked in sweat from his dark hair to his red Converse. “We saw the church. Maybe there’s nothing else to see. Maybe it’s too dangerous.” He had a kicked look about him, like a puppy. Joel saw him for his age then—old enough to know a lot, but still too young to know much better. He had a lot of confidence and sometimes this could make him seem older, but he was still only seventeen.

“What do you wanna do?” said Joel. He popped the lock on the chain with considerable ingenuity. He was a little proud of himself. "I'm here to help you."

“I wanna keep going,” said Noah. “I wanna know what’s going on.”

“All right then,” said Joel. “Let’s get to Centennial Hall and see what we can find.”

“Okay,” said Noah, like he had been reenergized. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going inside,” said Joel, loosening the chain and letting it drop. It made a loud noise and he then used a piece of rebar to pry open the doors.

“Why?” said Noah.

“Because,” said Joel, letting the rebar clank to the concrete sidewalk. He wiped the sweat from his face and his beard. “There might be something in here I want.”

They went inside. It was surprisingly maintained. It even looked defended, as if somebody had taken up shop in there many years before. There were makeshift blockades in the front of the store and what looked to be a sizable nest in the employee’s lounge. From the looks of the posters on the wall, he guessed it had been college kids.

“It’s just paraphernalia, for the college,” said Noah. He was going through the aisles, looking at the clothes on the racks, the mugs and water bottles. “What would you want in here.”

“A souvenir,” said Joel. He went over to the women’s section. A huge piece of particle board had fallen from the ceiling. He hauled it away.

“For yourself?”

“No,” said Joel.

“For Ellie?”

Joel was scouring a rack of hooded sweatshirts. “She asked me to bring her something, as a trade-in for not letting her come along. Hey, does this look like her size?” He held one of them up, a faded crimson with the words UW - LA CROSSE stamped on front, in a sort of vintage font. He thought it seemed like something she'd wear.

“What size is it?” said Noah.

“Uh, a woman’s extra small.”

“Well, she’s pretty extra small. So, I’d say that’s a good bet.”

Joel gave him a look. “Come here,” he said. “Put this in your backpack.”

“What?” said Noah. “No. You put it in yours.”

“I don’t have room in mine. Your mom packed it with one too many bomb parts and radio frequency enhancement mumbo jumbo, and it’s already digging in my spine.”

“Fine,” said Noah, swiping the sweatshirt. He rolled it up tightly and shoved it in the front pocket. “For Ellie.” Then he zipped it shut and they looked around. He saw something funny, one gray tee-shirt folded neatly in a disorderly stack. He held it up and showed it to Joel. “What about this one, for you?”

It said: UW - La Crosse Dad.

Joel said, “Yeah, that’s real funny.”

“I thought so.”

They were alarmed then, by a loud and inhuman screech, some banging on the walls coming from a locked back room.

“Jesus,” said Joel, picking up his shotgun. Whatever it was, it was angry, but it was trapped. He thought it might have been one of the college kids who'd made a nest here, which saddened him.

“That’s the first one,” said Noah. “In the whole town. What does that mean?”

“It means we’re getting closer to the epicenter of whatever the hell is going on here,” said Joel. “We should keep moving.”

They left the store, left the infected to rot. It was blistering now in the high noon sun as they continued their journey. “What was that thing in the store, do you know?" said Noah, earnest. He had his shotgun in his hands, a heavy pistol stuffed in the back of his jeans. He had killed plenty of Infected in his life, but it was mostly runners.

“Sounded like a clicker,” said Joel. "Based on the looks of things around here, that is most likely what we'll be running into. Whatever happened, it’s been years.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said Noah. It was a common sentiment for him, but now, something had changed in his demeanor. He seemed desperate.

“What now."

“We lived for so long, on our farm,” said Noah. “It felt safe, growing up there, barely encountering any of this insane bullshit, until just this past year or so. But these people here, in the city, it looks like they went through something horrible, for such a long time. How can that be? How can they all be dead?”

“If I remember properly,” said Joel, “it took the cordyceps some months to take root in the midwest. Once they isolated the big cities, it was a slow trickle to the end, and smaller cities like this, once they got it, there wasn’t much support. They got it bad. Local militias rose up in their various…forms. I ain’t surprised you all managed to survive on your land for as long as you did, given how isolated you are, but I suppose that it was only a matter of time before it got to you, too, one way or another.”

“This is so sad,” said Noah as they looked around at their desolate surroundings. He was shaking his head over and over again like he could not believe it. “My mom was born in La Crosse. Her ancestors came here from Norway in like the 1890s. Look at it now.”

“What about your dad?”

“My dad was born in Madison,” he said. “His grandparents were Spanish immigrants.”

“Was his family farmers, too?”

"Yeah,” said Noah. They were walking along, kicking around in the middle of the road, all cracked up with weeds, listening to the wind. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re from Texas,” he said. “What about your parents?”

“My parents were also from Texas,” said Joel. “My grandparents, too.”

“Where in Texas?”

“A town called Odessa.”

“Have you ever been married?” said Noah.

Joel was looking up at the sky now. There were some carrion birds up there, circling. A bad omen. “What?” he said.

“I asked if you’ve ever been married.”

“Why would you wanna know that?”

“I’m just curious,” said Noah.

Joel sighed and gave in. “Yes, I have been married.”

“When?”

“A long time ago.”

“What happened?” said Noah.

“It didn’t work out.”

“I see,” said Noah, sensing his unease. “What’s your last name?”

“My last name?” said Joel.

“Yeah,” said Noah, innocent. But then he also noticed the birds. Their conversation dropped off a cliff. “Holy shit,” he said. “You see that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Those are turkey vultures.” He was chewing on a stick, something he’d picked up off the ground. “They nest all over these bluffs.”

“Yeah, well,” said Joel. “Looks like they found something. Come on.”

Meanwhile, at the Lapp farmhouse, Ellie had wandered over to the bottom of the stairs. They were heavy and a dark wood. Everything about the house seemed really sturdy, but it also seemed really old. Things creaked and there were occasional dips in the flooring. “I think she’s upstairs,” she said. She thought she’d heard movement now from the floor above. But she wouldn’t call out Becky’s name, because it seemed like it might not be her place. She was a stranger here.

“Becky?” said Danielle.

"Hang on,” said Cici from the living room. She had redone her pony tail. It was high on her head now and twisted into a bun. “Looks like somebody’s coming to the backdoor.”

“What?” said Danielle. "Who?"

Concerned, Ellie came back into the kitchen space and placed her hand on the loom. Maybe she hadn’t heard anything after all. She glanced toward the stairs and then back to the door. There was a little window in the door, the shape of a semi-circle, and now a girl rushing up the steps, wearing a white dress and a little white kapp. She tried to get in, but it the door locked. She knocked several times, with urgency.

“Danielle?” said the girl. “Danielle, are you here?”

“Hey, is that Becky?” said Ellie.

“Becky,” said Danielle.

She went to the door, opened it quickly. Becky came inside, her small, pink hands on the slope of her pregnant belly. Her hair was very orange, almost striking. When she looked around and Saw Cici, then Ellie, she became alarmed. “Cici?” she said. “What’s going on?”

“Everything’s okay,” said Danielle. “Where’d you go?”

“I woke up, and you were gone. I went outside. I looked everywhere.”

“I found one of the sick in the barn,” said Danielle. She helped Becky to the kitchen table, where the two of them sat down. Becky seemed out of breath. “I went to find Cici and Noah to help.”

“Oh,” she said, relieved. “Goodness. I was so worried.”

“I’m gonna take care of the runner in the barn,” said Cici.

“Runner?” said Becky.

“She means the sick,” said Danielle.

“Oh,” said Becky. “Right. Cici, how is Noah? It has been a long time since I last saw you.”

“Noah’s doing just fine,” said Cici. “Congratulations, by the way. On your blessing.”

“Oh,” said Becky, re-situating in the chair. “Thank you. We are so grateful.”

“This is Ellie,” said Danielle. She came over from the table and held Ellie’s hand. It was unexpected, but Ellie just went with it. Her hand was warm and clammy. The floor creaked where she stood. “What was your last name again, Ellie?”

“My last name?” said Ellie. She hadn’t spoke it in such a long time. She looked down at her hand, inside Danielle's hand. “It’s Williams, I guess. Ellie Williams.”

“Ellie is new to the farm.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Becky, fanning herself with her hand. “But you’re so young. Are you one of the ones from town?”

“No,” said Ellie, growing increasingly unsure of what she should say. “No. I’m here with—well, it’s kind of hard to explain.”

“You needn’t worry,” said Becky, so sweet, but strange. Her hair was like a pyre. Her cheeks, nose, and forehead were violently freckled and her eyes were very blue and misty. Like planets.

“What was that?” said Danielle. She had dropped Ellie’s hand and was now staring up at the ceiling. They all heard it then, the sounds upstairs. It was a loud thud, then some skittering like a giant rodent, and then a door slammed shut. Ellie felt a chill in her bones.

“Holy shit,” she said. She rushed back to the stairs, held onto the railing like a baseball bat, got up on her tip-toes to to see. “I knew I heard something.”

“I got it,” said Cici. “Ellie, stay here.”

“You can’t go by yourself. It’s one of them.”

Cici had drawn her pistol. Danielle was backing away, toward Becky, who sat very straight. They both looked pale, almost shocked, as birds. “It’s inside?” said Danielle. “How’d it get inside? I locked it in the barn. I used the chains.”

“I’m guessing it’s not the same one,” Cici said. “Just stay here, be very quiet. And Ellie, if you insist on coming, you keep behind me. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Lead the way,” said Ellie.

Ellie didn’t have a gun. She’d left it in the truck. Still, she wasn’t scared. She had been through this now, so many times, with Joel. She knew what to do, and each of those fucking things she killed, since Tess, since Henry and Sam—since fucking Riley—she had recently decided: It was going to be vengeance. She wasn’t gonna take it anymore. On their way in from Pittsburg, she and Joel had stopped at a rest stop oasis in Ohio, foraged some food from a huge gas station there on the side of the freeway. She fell asleep, leaning against one of the shelves while Joel gassed up the truck, and she had a nightmare in which she saw Joel just standing in the hotel back in Pittsburg, water up to his knees, a bite mark in his hand. He told her he was going to take his own life and then instructed her calmly upon how to get to Wyoming. Take the I-80, he had said. He said it over and over again. She woke up unnerved. She had been clenching her jaw so that her teeth felt jagged. She never told him about the dream, but it, along with so much else, had changed her.

When she and Cici got upstairs, it was just a simple hallway with three bedrooms. One at the end, and two on each side. Only the door at the end of the hallway was closed. Based on the sounds they were hearing, it was a runner in there, hiding, probably terrified. They went slowly. Ellie could tell that Cici was gonna try to keep things quiet. The walls were painted white and very clean. Ellie gazed upon the quilts which hung there, just like the ones she had seen downstairs. There was something special about them. The colors were plain. Red, white, and blue, and the purity of such reminded her of the American flag. As she stared at the quilt, she got lost as she so often did and failed to realize that, as they were focused on the room at the end of the hall and approaching it in silence, there was another runner, vibrating real quiet in the bedroom to their right.

“Oh my god,” said Ellie.

The thing rushed them. It happened so fast, like a straight line wind, and when it went for Cici, Ellie didn’t think. It was a girl runner and not so big so she whipped it back by the hair and stuck her knife in its throat, five or six times till it died. The blood was everywhere. It was on Ellie’s face, her shirt, her hands. The sound of its death was loud, and as she dropped it to the floor, the other one came through the door, gnashing and alive. Its screams were horrifying. Even as she no longer feared them outright, the Infected were fucking demons. Ellie tripped over the dead one trying to get away, and just as she did, Cici raised her gun and shot the thing in the head, twice, point blank. It went down like a fucking sack of bricks. Ellie was on her ass and out of breath.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she said, shaking her head out like a dog. “Is that all of them?”

“Are you okay?” said Cici. She saw the blood. She hauled Ellie up and started searching her for marks.

“I’m fine,” said Ellie. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” said Cici, though she seemed unsettled. “We need to get the hell out of here.”    

“What about Becky and Danielle?”

“They’re coming with us.”

“Cici?” said Danielle from the bottom of the stairs. “Ellie? Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Cici shouted down the stairs. “Just—just don’t come up here yet. It’s nothing you wanna see.”

Danielle said a prayer. She said, “Praise god that you came.”

Ellie tried wiping some of the blood off her face. It had gotten on her clothes, and she felt momentarily embarrassed. “What the fuck are we gonna do with these things?” she said. “We can’t just leave them here.” She looked at the quilt on the wall. It was a bloodied. Ellie was pissed off about this. She hoped they could just make another.

“Go downstairs,” said Cici. “I’ll wrap them in sheets and drag them outside.”

“I’m covered in fucking blood,” said Ellie. “I don’t want to freak them out.”

"They’ll understand,” said Cici. “We’ve been through this sort of thing before. Though the fuckers have never gotten in the house like this.”

“What do we do with the bodies?” said Ellie. “Burn them?”

“Yes,” said Cici. “There’s plenty of fuel. It won’t be too much work.”

She dragged the bodies out one by one. She then went over to the barn by herself while Ellie, Danielle, and Becky stood outside, by the truck, and waited. Cici lured the thing out and blew it to shreds with a pipe bomb. They doused the bodies with gasoline from a canister in the shed by the garden and set them on fire in the pit at the back of the property. Then, they all drove back to the scrapyard, and though they didn’t go inside, Ellie did see rows and rows of school busses, exactly like Noah had said. Cici got out, used a rubber hose to syphon several gas cans full of fuel for the generator, and then together they all drove back to the farm on the other side of the hill where they would be safe behind the electric fence.

Back in La Crosse, Noah and Joel had found the detritus that had been drawing the turkey vultures from the bluffs. It was a clicker, facedown with parts of its neck ripped out. Could've been dogs, or maybe its own kind.

"Centennial Hall," said Noah, once they got there.

"There it is," said Joel.

The building was straight ahead of them. It was tall, red brick, stately in its prime with massive pillars and a clocktower. Of late, it had been devoured whole by vines robust as ankle tendons. The clocktower was plagued by black scorch marks, too, and the grass surrounding was probably waist-high. There were no more signs, no banners or flags. The building seemed deeply haunted, with the wind whistling through its veins. The clouds were big on the horizon. Joel feared a storm.

He was getting that feeling again, too, like they were being watched. "Noah," he said.

But Noah was already headed to the clicker, the dead one, splayed out in the middle of the road. He threw a rock at one of the vultures, which had been picking at its clothes unscrupulously, and the thing hissed back to the skies. Noah crouched down to get a better look. He hadn't seen an actual clicker since the last time he was here, since his dad.

"Noah," said Joel, surveying the quaint and rural atmosphere. Something was not right.

"It's okay," said Noah.

But it wasn't okay. Joel had seen it first, the thing that was set to change them. The clicker wasn't dead. It flopped over onto its back, surprising Noah and sending him off-balance. He stumbled as it screeched its terrible song, and its face, up close, was like a demon. Joel was there before he had the space to react. He pulled the trigger on his shotgun, close enough so that its head seemed to explode off its shoulders. It went down. Joel grabbed Noah by the collar and looked him over good. He said, "Noah. Noah. You okay?"

Noah thought about losing his guts, keeling over in the street. It had been some kind of event, and he had never been that close before. "I'm fine," he said, exhilarated. "I'm okay."

"Thank Jesus."

They decided to ascend the clocktower after that. It was the highest point they could see, and it seemed a safe place for to find their respite, for now. They climbed a bunch of narrow, spiral stairs and then a ladder, and a lot of it was rotted or rusted, but they made it okay. When they got to the top, it was a small space with a window and a circuit breaker, an old empty bottle of booze but that was all. They looked out over the burnt-out college campus, how it had gone to seed and lost its innocence. They saw the clouds, too, gathering in the north, looking like a definite storm now, moving south with some speed, straight for them and for Viroqua thereafter. Leaning heavily with their backs against the wall, they caught their breath, and then Joel took the two-way radio out of his back-pack. He hooked up the repeater, something Noah's dad had rigged up a long time ago to help them extend the range of the frequency.

"We should radio your mom," he said, "before we head inside the hall. I don't know if it'll work. But on the off chance it does, we should let her and Ellie know we're okay."

Noah was in agreement, even as he spoke little. Joel found the channel and commenced his talking in the radio. Sylvia Plath, he said, loud and clear. Sylvia Plath, do you copy? This is Ryan Adams. We are okay. Sylvia Plath. Do you copy?  Do you copy?

#the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou2 #joel the last of us #ellie the last of us #as you were #joel miller #ellie williams

[broadwayhoran]

the coolest thing involving fan culture to ever happen to me is growing up to be into the same things my parents were during its prime?

Within the last few years I’ve started a deep binge watch of the Star Trek universe, which happens to be my dad’s favorite series from growing up. I’ve inherited stories of fan events and early conventions, as well as some cool vintage merch. (My dad is also scarily good at indentifying TOS episodes by the star date)

The thing is, my dad isn’t a collector by any means. He’s very neat, clutter free, and doesn’t display knick-knacks and souvenirs the way the rest of the family does... he, as it turns out, has lots of sentimental things packed away carefully in boxes. The fact that I was unaware of him storing anything but old photos and books in his closet is worth noting-

My mom was going through some containers and found a package simply labeled “SPOCK”. Upon opening it, she discovered a still-bubble-wrapped, professionally framed portrait of Leonard Nimoy in Star Trek VI, autographed with certificate of authenticity. How my father had simply forgotten to tell me about this absolute heirloom being in our house all these years is beyond me.

Don’t get me wrong-my parents have loads of odd autographs. My mom has, in an envelope and then another envelope and wrapped in paper, a napkin signed by Nichelle Nichols when they bumped into her at a restaurant during a convention weekend. My dad has several baseballs (another story) with signatures of people who played guest characters, like Spock’s father Sarek. But the holy grail?? They literally just assumed I already knew about it. What. The. Hell.

Anyway, my sister isn’t into sci fi at all, so I’m apparently going to inherit everything. That’s the story of how I’m somehow the heiress to a bunch of Star Trek memorabilia.

#kelsey speaks #long post #star trek #im so confused and delighted but mostly confused #like i knew my dad was a dedicated fan but. apparently VERY dedicated #ok to reblog lol

[tendance-news]

You don’t have to have an implacable loathing for musicals to find Hamilton – or indeed the very concept of hip-hop-based musical theatre – a slightly troubling concept, at least on paper. You just have to have a working knowledge of the musical’s historically strained relationship with pop music. Musical theatre is a pretty genteel and august tradition, which has spent the last 50 years struggling, and usually failing, to co-opt pop music successfully: from Hair – the kitschy sound of a well-meaning but galumphing auntie trying to grasp the late 60s counterculture – to the excruciating moment during Starlight Express when the roller-skate-sporting cast start rapping, to umpteen horrendous jukebox musicals, crowbarring the hits in by any means necessary.

Soldier, financial guru and hip-hop legend: who was the real Hamilton?

  Read more

Of all the genres in pop, hip-hop is the one most obviously from the street. A voice for the underprivileged, it is seldom improved by gentrification. The spectre of something obviously put together with the best intentions but potentially agonising looms over the whole concept of Hamilton, earnest historical story and all. In theory at least, it sounds like the kind of thing a teacher of the call-me-by-my-first-name variety might drag their class along to see.

But then the success of the Hamilton cast album, or rather the nature of its success, suggests that might be a hasty judgment. It was recorded with far more care and attention to detail than is usual – they tend to be knocked off in a single recording session, but the production of Hamilton was overseen by Questlove and Black Thought of the Roots, who are clearly no one’s idea of fly-by-night bandwagon jumpers hell bent on sanitising hip-hop for the Andrew Lloyd Webbermassive. It suggested that its makers intended the Hamilton album to function as a standalone work, rather than a souvenir of a night out. And in the US, at least, that’s how the album appears to have been taken: it has sold around 1m copies, has topped the hip-hop chart and the Broadway chart and was as warmly received by rap fans as aficionados of the Great White Way.

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 Phillipa Soo, Renée Elise Goldsberry and Jasmine Cephas Jones in Hamilton at the Richard Rodgers theatre in New York. Photograph: Joan Marcus

In a sense that feels surprising, because the one thing the Hamilton cast album isn’t is a hip-hop album: no one in the mood to hear Joey Badass or Lil Uzi Vert is ever going to pause, reconsider and put Hamilton on instead. It’s resolutely a product of Broadway, from the dexterous vocals with their impeccably clear enunciation – no rapper in history has ever rapped the way the cast of Hamiltonrap – to the music, which clearly has as much to do with showtunes as hip-hop or R&B. Indeed, it occasionally dispenses with the latter genres altogether in favour of razzle-dazzle showstoppers (“The Story of Tonight”, “It’s Quiet Uptown”) or, in the case of “You’ll Be Back”, the kind of 60s sunshine pop exemplified by the Turtles’ “Happy Together”.

No rapper in history has ever rapped the way the cast of Hamilton rap

But equally, the lyrics come packed with references, of varying degrees of obliqueness, to classic hip-hop of varying degrees of obscurity. Pretty much anyone with a passing interest in pop could presumably spot the refrain from Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five’s groundbreaking 1982 “The Message” interpolated into “Cabinet Battles”. More dedicated hip-hop fans might notice straight away that the title of “Ten Duel Commandments” is a deliberate echo of the Notorious B.I.G.’s “Ten Crack Commandments”. More dedicated fans still have spotted lyrics echoing lines by everyone from Mobb Deep to Eminem to DMX. Indeed, finding yourself quoted in the musical has become such a badge of honour that LL Cool J, whose 1987 hit “I Need Love” was referenced in the original off-Broadway production but subsequently removed for copyright reasons, personally intervened in an attempt to get it reinstated.

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 Hamilton star freestyle raps with Obama at the White House

This is obviously all great fun, but what Hamilton’s preponderance of lyrical references really shows is author Lin-Manuel Miranda’s profound love and understanding of hip-hop, which perhaps accounts for his ability to interweave it so neatly with more traditional musical fare. The two sound perfectly integrated: it never feels awkward, as if the hip-hop and R&B aspects have been grafted on for the sake of it. It’s beautifully, subtly done: the way “Satisfied” weaves an R&B melody and agile rapping around sweeping strings and chorus-line backing vocals; how “Wait for It” gently introduces the influence of Jamaican dancehall in its stuttering beat. You don’t have to listen too closely to “A Winter’s Ball” or “The World Was Wide Enough” to imagine the songs recast as something more straightforward – the vocals less theatrical, a bit of Auto-Tune, the pit orchestra replaced by samples.

Indeed, the one jarring thing about the Hamilton cast recording is how much verbal information the listener is required to take in, which is perhaps fitting, given the title character’s oft-remarked-on propensity for going on a bit. Adroit as the rapping is, it’s still hard to follow precisely what’s going on without the aid of a lyric sheet.

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How Hamilton the Musical became a smash hit

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It’s patently ridiculous to describe the recording as “the best rap album of 2015”, as Billboard felt impelled to, not least because 2015 was a spectacular vintage for rap, the year of Kendrick Lamarr’s To Pimp a Butterfly, Earl Sweatshirt’s I Don’t Like Shit, I Go Outside, Future’s Dirty Sprite 2 and umpteen others. In a strange way, claiming it as a great hip-hop album slightly undersells its achievement, which is to map out a hitherto uncharted musical space entirely of its own, somewhere between hip-hop and Broadway, an area you might previously have considered a no man’s land.

Hamilton opens on 6 December at the Victoria Palace theatre, London SW1E. The original Broadway cast album is available on Atlantic. (Book here)

#IFTTT #Blogger

[farlydatau]

Justin Jefferson Retro 90s Poster Vintage Style Graphic T-Shirt

#justin jefferson hoodies #justin jefferson long sleeve t-shirts #Justin Jefferson Kids Shirt #justin jefferson style #justin jefferson #Griddy Gang Minnesota Unisex Heavy Blend Hoodie #griddy gang kids #griddy gang 2 #griddy gang #vintage style #griddy dance #hell vintage souvenir pack #vintageoutfit #vintage tshirt #vintagetshirt #vintage #sports lover gift #sports #skolvikings #skol #Retro #minnesota vikings #bestgift #giftshop #gift idea #gift ideas #holiday gifts #gift #american football #football card

[itsworn]

Two Deaths Darken Nostalgia Drag Racing And Cackling Events In California

Scene: 26th NHRA California Hot Rod Reunion

Those fans and cackle-car teams who showed up for NHRA’s 26th “Bakersfield reunion” seemed glad to be there. Spectators found closer parking than usual, for starters, and could select a seat or fence spot anywhere, even at peak Saturday attendance. They had to be happy about the return of extracurricular activities that made this event so unique and irresistible since 1992, pulling people back year after year from all over the world. Some say they come just to hang over the fence while period-correct, 1950s and ’60s American push cars with big V8s accelerate nitro-burning race cars to life close enough to feel heat from fiery zoomies and weedburners. Folks were denied that luxury last time, among other things. (Read all about it in the Mar. ’17 HRD.) The resultant outcry must’ve gotten awfully loud before the museum board voted to spend 30 grand for a full-length Armco barrier that evidently satisfied the Mother Ship’s nannies.

The racers themselves just want to race, of course, immune from trash talk about boycotts and loyalties. As always, CHRR’s contestants came through with either the best or second-best nostalgia show on the planet (rivaled only by the independent March Meet here). Final determination of season champions in NHRA Hot Rod Heritage Series categories is a built-in bonus. Fans were further treated to Firebird Raceway’s rain-postponed pro finals, wherein Jim Murphy defeated Adam Sorokin in AA/FD, and Jason Rupert dropped Ryan Hodgson in AA/FC. Those outcomes helped secure points titles for both winners. Their fellow season champions are Kin Bates, A/Fuel; Don Enriquez, Jr. Fuel; Bobby Cottrell, 7.0 Pro; Dustin Lee, Nostalgia I; Dave Lawson, N-II; Ed DeStaute, N-III; Brendon Frye, A/Gas; Rich Harrison, B/G; Brian Smith, C/G; Mike Raberner, D/G; and Dale Hicks, Hot Rod.

CHRR’s jam-packed pits dictate fewer categories for this grand finale. Event winners were Jim Young, T/F (in the absence of runner-up Murphy, who’d brushed the wall past the finish line in the semis); Bobby Cottrell, F/C; darkhorse Englishman Nick Davis, AA/FA; Bates again, A/F; Gary Reinero, AA/G; John Marottek, J/F; Pete Peterson, 7.0; Lloyd Harden, Nostalgia; Terry Newton, A/G; Jeremy Hanger, Pro Mod; Bob Moreland, A/FX; and Bob Tingler, S/S.

The unavoidable elephant in the joint this year was last year. Despite ideal weather all but Friday morning and NHRA’s mighty promotional machine, revenue required to fund year-round museum operations suffered obvious hits in cackle-car entries (fewer than half of last year’s record 100-plus), attendance, souvenirs, even auction items. Nothing gets the attention of upper management like sudden revenue reduction. By reinstating the old attractions, NHRA’s directors gave hope that they’ve learned not to fix what ain’t broke. Only time—and their customers—will tell.

Fire Dancer: Amazingly, a dozen traditional AA/Fuel Altereds showed up (two more than AA/FDs) and stole the show during qualifying. The Bradford family’s Fiat got straightened out past the finish line, but Randy’s pedaling fractured four connecting rods. Veteran photographer Paul Sadler got the shot.

Iceman Returns: Leading Friday night’s honoree ceremony was grand marshal Rick Stewart (right, with emcee Bob Frey), whose 25 years working NHRA starting lines followed success in fuel and gas dragsters. “The Iceman” also starred—and crashed—in famed director Robert Abel’s first project, 1965’s Seven-Second Love Affair. Gene Adams’ slingshot was destroyed, but student photographer Les Blank’s onboard camera and microphone kept rolling along with the cockpit. Stewart went to the hospital, where he awoke to a bright-orange sky that he figured was hell, but proved to be the first night of the Watts riots. Cameraman Blank went on to become an award-winning documentarian. His color film may have been the earliest audio-visual footage ever shot from a crashing drag racer’s perspective.

High-Riser 302: Sean and Anna Clason’s freshly finished Model A is no stranger to the streets of Bakersfield, but it’d been a while; so long that nobody under 50 was alive the last time this car disturbed the peace. Sean’s late uncle, John DeWitt, drove it everywhere in the late 1950s (flathead-powered) and early ’60s (Chevy V8) before starting a restoration around 1965. Progress would be slowed by family obligations and health issues, then stopped by his 1998 passing. The chopped ’31 body, complete with original glass in all but one window opening, sat another eight years before the young couple scored a used rolling chassis. The rest has been accumulated or fabricated over the last decade. They rebuilt the 302 Ford—the first engine for both—in their kitchen. The biggest challenge turned out to be adapting not two, not three, but four reproduction Strombergs—inline, yet—to an early, carbureted engine plucked from a generous pal’s parts car (along with the C4 tranny that’s still behind it). The only affordable solution that occurred to Sean, Anna, and buddy Sean McDougall (whose Nov. ’16 HRD cover coupe is in the background) was mating a fuel-injected 5.0L Mustang’s manifold with a Speedway adapter plate designed to put four 97s atop a 6-71 blower. Anna made wood patterns for a sheet-metal power tower that merges induction technologies, topped off with irresistible stacks appeal. Flawless welding throughout illustrates years of oil-pipeline experience by both Seans. The cowl lights are now turn signals.

Muffler Magic: This 1959-vintage local fueler inspired applause just rolling through the pits. Oldtimers hadn’t seen the Scotty’s Muffler Service Special since Charles Scott replaced it with a super-light slingshot a half-century ago. The proud caretaker just happens to be named Scott and run a family muffler shop. HRD followed Scott and Kelly Cochran home to Washington and shot a full feature, coming soon.

Out To Pasture: It was hardly the brightest car driven into Famoso’s Grove, but the subtly shaved trim and expanded quarters sucked us in. Two tiny tow hooks, barely visible below the bumper, completed the impression of an old warrior. Rex Clifford lusted for it since the day that a straight-axled, tunnel-rammed ’55 first rumbled into his hometown of Mesa, Arizona. That guy sold it to one of Rex’s buddies, who eventually made a teenage dream come true. Forty years later, the old warhorse still runs a 327, tamed by a freeway-friendly combination of single quad, Turbo 400, and 2.73:1 teeth in its nine-inch rear.

Family Legacy: Thirty years since its last, disastrous local appearance in competition, one of Canada’s greatest AA/Gas Dragsters came to cackle with late builder-driver Jack Williams’ daughter under its signature canopy. Wendy Williams rescued Dad’s original trailer from nearly six decades of British Columbia winters. It easily won HRD’s unofficial Best Transporter award.

Flaky Character: A long-roofed shoebox might’ve been the brightest thing on either side of the pitside bleachers. Owner Rodney Lovato was quick to credit Sacramento’s Precision Frame for the stunning finish. A warmed-over 350 pulled his flaky 150 up and over the Grapevine from the San Fernando Valley.

Transport Service: Yes, you saw both local Fords in the last issue (Jan. ’18 HRD), but here’s a brighter view of Rick Davis’ rare AA roadster pickup and Tyler Weeks’ T retro racer. The Bakersfield buddies are members of what claims to be the founding chapter of the Model A Ford Club of America.

Farewell: Brett Henry, who traveled 1,200 miles from Wichita, Kansas, twice each year to challenge the world’s best traditional AA/Fuel Altereds, was seriously injured Saturday and died the next day. Top-end witnesses told us that the 50-year-old veteran completed the run normally and appeared to shut off, momentarily. The nitro-burning Chevy then accelerated through the shutdown area and into the wall before striking a berm along the property’s border. Photographer Kleet Norris captured the popular racer’s final burnout.

Cackling Comes Into Its Own

For his first 47 years of NHRA affiliation, respected racemaster Steve Gibbs never envisioned promoting events of his own. That all changed at the start of the 2016 California Hot Rod Reunion, shortly after Steve’s 48th NHRA anniversary, when the cofounder (with colleague Greg Sharp) of the original, since-trademarked Cacklefest® dramatically stepped down from his official’s role. At issue were unpopular new restrictions from NHRA headquarters on push starts, pit fire-ups, even the traditional Friday-night hotel cackle that gives the public free samples of nitromethane. Soon after, Gibbs resigned from the museum’s board and refused to sign a consultant’s contract that he considered “an insult.” Thus ended 48 years of faithful service, and started—originated, actually—a career. At age 77, together with cackle-car-owner Ron Johnson, Gibbs invented the Nitro Revival, the first commercial drag-racing event for real drag cars, held at a real drag strip, with no drag racing. Perhaps unavoidably, the rookie promoters scheduled it three weekends ahead of NHRA’s reunion. Perhaps coincidentally, NHRA ordered a big signboard for Barona Drag Strip’s starting line promoting the upcoming Bakersfield bash. (“I heard it cost them five grand,” said Gibbs, “and they’ve never bought a sign anywhere. A terrible sign; too much jammed in. You couldn’t read it from the stands.”)

As if the divided nostalgia community needed any additional drama, cosponsor Johnson, a two-time cancer victim, checked himself out of home hospice long enough to enjoy his back-to-back promotions in downtown Escondido (annual Nitro Night) and Barona, then died nine days later. Had he lived a little longer, Ron would’ve enjoyed the irony of accepting the Special Appreciation award that the NHRA Museum presented to his daughter and son at Bakersfield.

War Reenactors: With Ron Johnson watching, two of his tribute fuelers reenacted a routine that Tommy Ivo (seen in foreground) and Chris Karamesines experienced countless times in the mid-’60s’ match-race wars, before burnouts and electric starters eliminated push-down drama. Drivers Kol Johnson, Ron’s son, and Mark McCormick then staged and launched the cloned Chizler and Barnstormer, respectively, before idling downtrack. It was a fitting finale for both the event and cosponsor Johnson, a major player in the cackle movement.

Split Level: Soon to be southern California’s last surviving purpose-built facility, Barona reminds local oldtimers of long-gone San Diego County strips at Paradise Mesa and Ramona. The eighth-mile facility sits on Indian land near Lakeside. Clever carving of the surrounding hills created sufficient flat spaces for pitting and watching.

Royal Friendship: Rookie promoter Steve Gibbs and rookie booksigner Linda Vaughn took a break between autographs to visit with Linda’s sister, Sheila Ann Franklin, and Canadian speed merchant Brant “The Kid” Inglis, who was wrenching on the same 392 Chrysler that Jack Williams last ran in the Syndicate Scuderia. Looking on is Amber Greth, the gearhead granddaughter of Speed Sport legend Red Greth.

Pyromaniac: Retired firefighter Bill Pitts continues to put out flames. Nobody shoots them higher than the godfather of cackling, whose restored MagiCar inadvertently invented an entire exhibition category by lighting off in the Famoso Grove in 1993, during the second NHRA reunion. Golden Age star Jeep Hampshire is back behind the butterfly. Photographer Bob McClurg snapped the shot.

Thunder Lungs: Another reason for trekking to the southernmost part of the West Coast was a last chance—two chances, actually—to enjoy the Voice of Drag Racing. Jon Lundberg called the street action in downtown Escondido the night before Barona’s Nitro Revival. His sidekick here was NHRA Division Seven announcer Mike English.

Colorful Crowd: Barona’s crowd was small but colorful, consisting mostly of cackle-car teams and friends showing support for Steve Gibbs. The fan in the middle was fortunate to score an official shirt before souvenir items completely sold out. Enough money was made, according to Gibbs, to ensure another Nitro Revival on Sept. 29, 2018.

The post Two Deaths Darken Nostalgia Drag Racing And Cackling Events In California appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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