#long hair should be curlier but i got lazy

[lethologicaee]

had a request for long hair jason sitting in my inbox for forever and somehow i have lost it... but here is the sketch. i gave him several hairstyles

this was NOT a sketch request commission for gaza, but it is an example of what you would receive if you did choose to donate! if you would like to receive your very own sketch, please check my pinned post for methods of donation & info regarding the commission process.

#my art #i kind of gave him the anime side part hair swoop bang thing... not ideal #the suguru getofication of jason todd? #his hair would be so thick i think any attempt at a pony or bun would look like this at its neatest #long hair should be curlier but i got lazy #just noticed the ear placement is off fuck my life #jason todd #dc fanart #jason todd fanart

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

Coder Boyfriends Quarantine Fic

-

I wrote this months ago and never finished it... so yeah take this somewhat complete work. Maybe if enough of y’all like it I’ll write more. Also I’m too lazy to come up with a real title :)

-

They were two weeks into quarantine, and Tobin was officially stuck with a ferret. And it wasn’t even his ferret.

“What are we going to do about this, dude?” He asked Leif one morning, flopping down at their kitchen table and staring at the stupid little creature in his cage across from them. 

“There’s nothing we can do. Colin is stuck with his family in New York, and we promised we would take care of him.” 

“Yeah, for a week! Not for six freaking months!”

“Tobes, you have a commitment to this thing. You have to watch out for it. So for now, you are officially a ferret daddy,” Leif said while holding back a smirk. 

Tobin just glared at his friend.

“I don’t think ferrets are supposed to live in bird cages for months on end.” Leif commented from his spot on the couch. Tobin was busy rearranging the ferret’s living space to accommodate for him being a long term resident. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t just have ferret cages laying around.” Tobin snapped. 

“Why do you have a bird cage laying around?!” 

“I-” Tobin started.

“Hold on.” Leif pulled out his phone. “I think I’m going to want this on tape.” 

“For your vlog?” Tobin asked mockingly.

“The viewers need to know.” Leif cleared his throat and put on a dramatic announcer voice. “So tell us, Tobin, why do you have a bird cage laying around?”

Tobin rolled his eyes. “A few years ago, I got a pet bird. After two weeks of having said bird, I decided I wasn’t cut out for bird ownership so I… I gave the bird away.” Tobin hoped his hesitation wasn’t visible on camera. He hadn’t actually given the bird away. He let it free, but moments after realized it was definitely not a native species. It’s haunted him ever since. 

Tobin snaps out of his bird-guilt to see Leif cackling on the couch. “I had forgotten about that! Dude, you were so bad at taking care of that stupid thing, I’m suprised it didn’t just die.” Leif glances over to where Greyskull the ferret was sitting. “Let’s hope the same thing won’t happen with the ferret.”

“It won’t.” He’s determined to make certain of that. 

“Good.” Leif turns off the camera and puts his phone away before leaning back and watching Tobin continue to move ferret equipment around. Tobin could feel his eyes tracking him, and he had to fight back a blush. He glanced over at his best friend, who was watching with a smile smile that Leif reserved only for Tobin. 

Tobin quickly turned around as he felt his cheeks warming. The beginning of months of quarantine probably wasn’t the greatest time for your best friend to find you’ve been in love with him for years. 

“Tobes hurry up!” Leif called. “The work call starts in five minutes!” 

“I still don’t see why we can’t do this from two different computers.” Tobin replied from his bedroom, rushing to make himself look presentable.

“Because it’s stupid, bro. Everyone knows we live together, and it’s going to get annoying if we’re just talking over each other from different rooms.”

“Okay, fair.” Tobin slides down the hallway and collapses on the couch. He very nearly crashes into Leif, but he manages to stop himself, luckily. 

They log on to the zoom meeting, and Tobin has to stop himself from thinking about how couple-y they look on the camera. Jesus christ dude, you need to stop pining, he tells himself. 

Joan lets them onto the call, and there’s an awkward minute where it’s just her and the two of them. Leif is staring at the ground and Joan staring at her wall. Against all better judgement, Tobin makes a sarcastic comments. 

“Lover’s quarrel, huh?” He regrets it as soon as Leif turns to look at him with hurt in his eyes. He’s about to apologize when Zoey and Max join the call. 

“Hey guys!” Zoey says, and suddenly Joan and Leif perk up.

“Hi Red, ‘sup Max!” Tobin says, ignoring Leif’s stiff body beside him.

“So Tobin, I hear you’re stuck with a ferret.” Max comments, holding back a laugh.

Tobin whips around, staring at Leif. “Max watches your vlog?!” 

Leif just shrugs. “I gave him the password a while back, figured it couldn’t hurt.” 

“Now the whole office gets a glimpse into my private life!” Tobin didn’t know why he was upset about this. He was a pretty open person, he barely shut up about his private life at work anyway.

“Hey, it’s my private life. You just happen to live with me. Why are mad about this?” Leif’s eyes flicked briefly to the computer screen, where it was still just Max, Zoey, and Joan, staring awkwardly at the interaction.

Just as the boys were staring daggers at each other, ready to keep fighting, Joan spoke up. 

“Lover’s quarrel, huh?” The sarcasm and pride in her voice was obvious.

“Wh- I- no!” Tobin stammered, not daring to look at Leif. He stared at the screen, where he saw Max mouth lovers? to Zoey, who promptly elbowed him in the ribs. 

Luckily, right then, a bunch of the other SPRQ point employees joined the call, and the five who were previously there ignored the argument from before as they talked about work things. 

Tobin payed no attention to what was happening, he was too busy staring at Leif from the corner of his eye. Leif didn’t seem mad anymore, just his normal awkward and nerdy self as he talked about the coding projects they were planning to start from home. He laughs at something Max says, and Tobin fights back a smile. Nothing makes him happier than hearing Leif laugh. He notices that his friend’s hair is already getting longer after three weeks stuck at home. It’s curlier, more floppy in the front. He also hasn’t shaved in a few days, and his mini-beard is adorable. Tobin briefly thinks about how much he wants to run his hands through that hair, but then remembers they’re on a work call and he should probably stop that train of thought right there. 

Before he knows it, the call is over. Hopefully he didn’t miss too much, but if he did, he can always ask Leif. 

Leif, however, gets up silently and moves toward the kitchen. Suddenly Tobin remembers the argument they were having. He shoots up from the couch and rushes towards the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry, bro.” 

“Sorry for what?” Leif asks, clearly playing dumb.

“For saying that thing about you and Joan. For getting upset about the vlog thing. For…” Tobin pauses before finishing, “... for what Joan said about us.”

“Ah,” Leif says, holding tight to the glass he’s grabbed from the counter. Neither of them say anything for a moment, and the silence is deafening to Tobin. 

“Look dude, I’m really sorry. I know I shouldn’t have brought up the thing with Joan, I know you’re still pining over her or whatever-”

“I’m not,” Leif interrupts. 

You’re not? There’s a flutter of hope in Tobin’s stomach, but he pushes it down. “Well, regardless, I shouldn’t have said that. And I don’t know why I got so upset about Max watching your vlog. I guess I’m just self-conscious sometimes, no matter how much I act the opposite. And I like having moments that are just between the two of us sometimes.” Tobin really hopes Leif didn’t read into that last part the way he just did as he said it. 

“That makes sense.” Leif bites his lower lip before adding, “what about the last part?”

“What?”

“The last part of your apology. About what Joan said.”

“Uh, I guess she just said it because she was mad at me for saying it about you guys? She saw an opportunity and she took it. She probably only said it because we were arguing like an old married couple. Not that we act like an old married couple. We don’t. It’s just, y’know, we live together, and we were arguing, so we’ve got those two key ‘old married couple’ traits down. But not any of the other ones, not like being in love or married or a couple-”

“Jesus, Tobes, take a breath.” Leif chuckled. “It’s totally fine that she said that, I just was wondering what you thought about it.”

“Oh?” Tobin fights the urge to melt into the floor as a way to forget everything he just said. 

“Yeah. Like you said, we live together, plus we’re both bi, so there’s not really any offense in the joke.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, totally.” Tobin still feels like melting into the floor. He’s saved from doing that, however, when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

“It’s from Zoey.” He says, mostly to himself. He’s a bit confused. Zoey doesn’t text him much, and when she does it definitely not to say We need to talk. “I think I should answer this.” Tobin walks into his room and locks the door, leaving a confused Leif behind him.

“Hey?” Tobin had barely begun to dial the phone when Zoey answered.

“Hi Tobin.”

“Hi?” Tobin’s even more confused than he was before.

“How are you doing?” Zoey’s voice is strained.

“I’m fine?” Tobin can deal with a few more polite greetings before he snaps and asks Zoey what the heck is up.

“How are things with Leif?” Zoey asks, sounding nervous, which makes Tobin nervous. What is she thinking about me and Leif?

“Good, good. Just chillin’ in quarantine, y’know.” Tobin’s started to pace around his room now. 

“Cool.” There’s a long silence from Zoey’s end.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, you know, sometimes when people, uh, spend a lot of time together…” Zoey trails off and Tobin can almost picture her gesturing vaguely.

“Yeah?” Tobin prompts.

“When people spend a lot of time together… sometimes feelings can develop.” Zoey finishes.

Tobin ignores the pit in his stomach and decides to play dumb. “I’m not going to murder Leif, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“What?! No! I mean…” He can hear Zoey take a deep breath. “Tobin are you in love with Leif?”

Tobin hangs up. 

She calls again. 

He declines.

She calls again.

He declines.

She texts him.

He blocks her number. 

Tobin collapses on his bed. How the hell did she know? It’s not like he and Zoey are best buds. There was that one time she helped him out with the Spelliversary drama, but that’s the extent of their close conversations. And now she hasn’t seen him in weeks, and it only takes one zoom call for her to figure out he’s been in love with Leif for fifteen years?! He screams into his pillow before flopping over and staring at his ceiling. His eyes trace the stars stuck to the wall, flitting over the sharpied-in constellations, and trying desperately not to think about Leif or Zoey.

There’s a knock on his door. “Tobes?” 

Tobin just groans.

The knocking intensifies. “Tobin, please open the door.” Tobin really doesn’t want to, but there’s a desperation in Leif’s voice that he can’t say no to.

He flops off the bed and unlocks the door. “What is it, bro?”

Leif hands his phone to Tobin. “Zoey ne-”

Tobin slams the door in his face.

Before he has time to lock it, however, Leif tries to open it again. Tobin makes a worthy fight against his weight and the door, but eventually his taller friend manages into the room. Leif closes and locks the door and hands the phone to Tobin. 

“Talk.” He says.

Tobin sighs. “Fine.” He gestures to the door. “Leave.” 

“What? No! Dude, you think I trust you to be alone with my phone? I don’t want you seeing everything that’s on there. Plus, you’ll just hang up again, and I for one don’t want my manager’s number blocked on my phone.”

Tobin tries desperately to think of something to say, any reason for Leif to leave other than the truth. But he can’t. And the longer he waits, the more suspicious he seems. So he puts the phone to his ear. 

“Oh hey Zoey, what’s up?” 

“Ok I really want to take the time to be mad at you for blocking my number, but I don’t have the time and Max is mouthing at me to get to the point.”

“Uh huh, okay.” Tobin is trying to act nonchalant. 

“So… are you in love with Leif?” She asks and Tobin prays to any and every existing deity that Leif can’t hear through the phone.

Tobin isn’t sure what to do. He’s strangely scared of Zoey, in all of her five foot tall, quarantined miles away from him, glory. Something about her is making him want to tell the truth. Time for Tobin to pull out those rusty acting skills from when Leif convinced him to do the high school play.

“Uh, yeah, I love watermelon. Why do you ask?” Tobin tries not to cringe as Leif looks at him confused. Watermelon?!

“Tobin, what the-”

He interrupts her. “Leif’s here too, do you wanna ask what he thinks?”

He hears Zoey gasp through the other line. “Ohhh. Um, so, you love Leif. Watermelon. Whatever. How long have you liked him? Are you gay? I didn’t know you were gay. I’m asking too many questions. Sorry. This is hard to do over the phone.”

Tobin sighs. “I’ve been a fan of watermelon since high school.”

“High school?! That’s a long time.” 

“It sure is.” Tobin tries not to stare at Leif, now distractedly fiddling with trinkets on Tobin’s cluttered desk. “Oh and since you asked, I don’t just… love watermelon. I’m also a fan of… grapes.” Tobin hopes this isn’t too confusing of a metaphor for bisexuality for Zoey to grasp.

“So you’re bi?” Zoey asks, catching on. Guess she’s smarter than Tobin thought, although considering she manages their company, he probably should have figured that out. 

“Yeah.” Tobin can’t believe he’s coming out to Zoey Clarke, of all people. And in the worst possible way, too. 

“Cool, cool. So are you planning on telling Leif?”

“No. Too much work, dude. Don’t want to fuck things up, y’know?”

“I know it’s not my place to say so-” Tobin scoffs. It wasn’t her place to ask about this in the first place. “- but I really think you should tell him. It might make things easier, you wouldn’t have to hide your feelings. Then you can… you can love him with no strings attached.”

Tobin freezes for a moment. That sounds familiar. But he can’t remember how right now, and he’s too concerned with other more pressing issues to think of it. 

“I’ll think about it.” He says, lying. He won’t even consider telling Leif. He’s gone on pining for fifteen years, where’s the fun in stopping now?

“Good. That’s good, Tobin. I’m glad you told me.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” He mumbles. Zoey chooses to ignore this. 

“Hey, how about you unblock my number and we can talk some more when Leif’s not there. Only if you want to, of course.” She adds the last part on as an afterthought, seeming to remember that forcing people to talk about their secret gay crushes probably isn’t the smartest idea.

“Sure. Thanks, Zoey. Bye.” He hangs up. Scared, he looks up at Leif, now sitting on Tobin’s desk (that gay disaster). 

“What the hell was that about, bro?” Leif asks.

“Oh, just… y’know… girl things.” And with that, Tobin leaves his room.

Leif doesn’t bring up the phone call again until after dinner, when Tobin is preparing popcorn for their movie night.

“So dude,” Leif calls from the couch. “What was that call with Zoey about?”

“I told you already.”

“No you did not! ‘Girl things’ is not a valid answer.”

Tobin brings himself and the popcorn to the couch, sitting down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Please…” Leif turns to Tobin and rests his head on his shoulder, giving him puppy dog eyes. 

Tobin shoves Leif off of him. “That’s not fair, man, you know I can’t resist you when you give me that face.”

Leif smiles. “Exactly. Come on, man, it can’t be that bad. And no matter how good of an actor you think you are, I know that it wasn’t about watermelon. There’s no way you blocked our boss’ number over watermelon.” 

Tobin tries desperately to think of something believable that’s not the truth. “She wanted help with relationship advice.”

Leif looks concerned. “Is everything ok with her and Max?”

“Oh yeah, they’re fine it was about… her brother.”

“I thought her brother was married?” 

Damn Leif for knowing so much about Zoey’s personal life. “He is! Her older brother, that is. Her younger brother is unmarried and struggling with dating.”

“And she asked you about this?”

“Don’t look so surprised, bro. There’s just something about me that makes people want to open up to me about romance.” Tobin waggles his eyebrows at his friend.

“I’ve known you since third grade and I’ve never once wanted to open up to you about romance.”

“That’s bullshit, man. I was the one who helped you realize you were bi. That’s helping you with romance if I ever saw it.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to. You were just my only friend, and therefore my only option. If I had a choice I would have chosen someone way cooler than you to open up to.”

Tobin glares at him. “Just shut up and watch this movie with me.”

***

Leif knew Tobin was lying. He knew Tobin, and he knew Zoey, and he knew that there was no way the two of them would join forces for relationship advice. But he also knew when Tobin was getting anxious, and he could tell his friend was not ready to tell Leif the truth. So he doesn’t press it.

Leif has an interesting relationship with movie night. On one hand, he loves it. Curling up on the couch with popcorn and his best friend to watch a cheesy movie? That’s basically heaven to Leif. Although heaven might have a few more sketchbooks, and Bob Ross videos, and cardigans, and pretty people complimenting his genius.

One the other hand, movie night was hell for Leif. Tobin always made obnoxious commentary, and threw popcorn at the screen, and laughed way too hard at funny scenes, and cried at emotional scenes. 

And it was simple things like this that made Leif fall more in love with Tobin. So movie night was basically a weekly reminder for Leif that he was absolutely whipped for his best friend and had done nothing about that fact for over ten years.

Halfway through the movie, Leif starts feeling tired. In all honesty, he’s only a little bit tired. But he always plays it up so that every movie night he’s overcome with exhaustion and has no choice but to fall asleep on Tobin’s lap or shoulder.

Okay, so maybe he has a bit of a problem. But hell, this is the only opportunity Leif has to cuddle with Tobin and he will exploit it to the best of his ability, damn it!

So Leif lays his head on his friend’s shoulder, smiling as he doses off, lost in the smell of Tobin’s hoodie.

 “Tobes, I’m going fucking insane.” Leif announces, collapsing on their kitchen table. 

“Ok. What else is new?” Tobin asks him from where he’s sitting eating cereal.

Leif lifts his head a bit. “I’m not kidding. It’s been six weeks of this shit and it’s still only the beginning. I’m way ahead in work so I have nothing to do, I’ve been drawing more than I ever have and my hand is cramping from filling two sketchbooks already, my hair is longer than I’ve ever wanted it to be, and this damn ferret is driving me crazy!”

Tobin nods. “I see. Well, this will take care of the hair problem for you.” He hands Leif what appears to be a hot pink sparkly scrunchie.

Leif takes it tentatively. “What on earth is this?”

“What does it look like? It’s a scrunchie. I’m already rocking one, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Only then does Leif look up fully and realize that Tobin is, in fact, ‘rocking’ a scrunchie. His long brown hair is half-tied up in a weird Sokka-from-Avatar-the-Last-Airbender type look. 

“You look absolutely ridiculous.” Leif says. And cute, he thinks, but would never admit out loud. Because it’s weirdly true- the neon green hair tie look somehow makes Tobin even cuter. 

“And you can too! Just wear it, at least your hair will stop falling in your eyes.”

“I’m not wearing it. Why do you even have these?” Leif hands the scrunchie back to Tobin, who puts it around his wrist.

“Believe me, bro. You do not want to know.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Leif stands to get himself a bagel.

“Oh and by the way, don’t you dare disrespect my son, Sir Greyskull the Brave.” Tobin stares lovingly at the ferret.

Leif rolls his eyes. “I miss start of quarantine Tobin, who wouldn’t shut up about how much he hated the ferret.”

“Leif, don’t be rude. He’s grown on me, and he should grow on you too.”

“I’m never going to let a ferret grow on me.” Leif remarks as he returns to the table with his bagel. “But seriously, dude, I need things to do.” 

“Okay…” Tobin looks contemplative. “How about after we both finish work for the day, we play some old-fashioned, kids-sleepover party games, just the two of us. You know, truth or dare, two truths and a lie, never have I ever, stuff like that. But since we’re not kids, we can play it the fun way: with booze.”

Leif realizes the endless ways this could go wrong- getting drunk with your crush and playing truth or dare? That’s a high-school level bad decision right there. But he’s too bored to say no.

“Sounds good to me.”

Leif, of course, finishes work around four in the afternoon. Tobin, on the other hand, has been procrastinating his work for weeks and still isn’t done by seven. So Leif decides to fix dinner. Might as well have a nice meal together before they get absolutely wasted and Leif admits things he doesn’t want to admit. 

Tobin finally comes out of his room a little before eight, just as Leif is setting the stirfry he made on the table.

“Oh, sweet, food!” Tobin sits down and starts eating.

“Yes, I figured I might at least do something with the hours I’ve spent waiting for you to finish.”

“Hey!” Tobin says with a mouth full of food. “At least I did the work!”

“That’s true, but if you had done any of the work throughout the week, you wouldn’t have to spend so long on it.”

“Yeah, well, where’s the fun in that?”

Leif sits down and takes a bite. “Oh, of course, how could I forget. Nothing screams fun like putting work off until the last possible minute.”

“See, this is why you went to some fancy college while I went to jail!” 

Leif stares at him. “One of those things is considerably better than the other, and I’ll tell you right now, it’s not jail.”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it? We both have the same job, and you’re only a little bit higher ranking than me. But let’s be real, that’s probably only because you fucked the boss.”

“Shut up.” Leif says, and he means it. He hates when Tobin brings up his whole fling with Joan. It’s been over a year, and Leif has made it abundantly clear that he’s over it and doesn’t want to talk about it, but Tobin doesn’t listen. Nothing’s worse than the guy you love constantly bringing up your bad past relationships.

“I’m not wrong though-”

“Tobes.” Leif looks up from his plate. “Please just drop it.”

“Okay! I’m sorry I brought it up, I was just trying to make a joke.”

“Whatever. Just… don’t do it again.”

They eat in silence for a while, and Leif’s worried that he’s crushed the vibe of the evening.

“So, Tobes, how much are you planning to drink tonight?”

“All of it.” Tobin replies.

“All of our alcohol?” It’s not that it’s that much- they don’t keep a lot of drinks at home, since they usually just go out to bars. But they can’t do that anymore. 

“Yep. It’s been too long since I’ve been drunk.”

“Okay, you make a fair point, but I raise you this point: if you drink all we have right now, you have to suffer however many more months we’re stuck in here sober.” 

Tobin pauses for a minute- he clearly hadn’t thought of that. “Ah, fuck that. We can buy more online or something. Live in the moment, bro.”

Right. Live in the moment. Leif gulps. This isn’t going to end well. 

Well, Leif was definitely living in the moment. At least, that would explain why he’s opening his mouth and asking Tobin, “ok, ok. What’s… what’s a secret you’ve never told anyone before?”

Leif lifts his head from where it’s laying on the couch so he can judge Tobin’s reaction. It’s three hours after dinner and they’re both plastered.

“Uh…” Tobin takes a while to respond, and Leif can’t tell if he’s nervous about the question or just too drunk to think.

When Tobin still doesn’t respond, Leif starts to panic. He may be drunk but he can still remember how stupid a question that is to ask your crush. 

“Oh! I’ve got it!” Tobin finally answers. “So… y’know the bird I had? For two weeks?” His words are slurred.

“Yeah?” Leif is both relieved and disappointed that the answer is about a bird.

“I didn’t give it away.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t give it away like I said I did. I set it free.”

Leif pauses for a moment, then bursts into laughter. “You set it free?! Dude, that’s an exotic bird!”

“Well I realize that now!”

“Tobes, what if you accidentally created a mutant species of a tropical bird and a-whatever birds live in San Francisco! You could be famous but for, like, a really bad reason.” Leif can’t stop laughing.

“I know that! I’ve been haunted by my actions for years! That’s why I’ve never told anyone!”

“Bro, how are you sober enough to say haunted by my actions? That’s fancier than you usually talk, let alone after however many drinks you’ve had.”

“Maybe the alcohol powers me. I should have it more often.”

“Yes, do, maybe you’ll admit more bird-related crimes.” Leif says, still through fits of giggles. He slowly sits up and flops on the other side of the couch, his head almost touching Tobin’s legs.

“I really hope you don’t remember this tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh I will. Trust me, I will.”

“It’s my turn to ask a question, right?” Tobin asks.

“Yeah, though I doubt you can get me to admit something that will top your bird confession.”

“Well, what about you?” Tobin asks suddenly.

“What about me?”

“What’s a secret you’ve never told anyone?”

And maybe it’s just for Leif, maybe the drink is going to his brain, but it seems to him that the whole mood shifts dramatically as Tobin says that.

He has an answer, of course. And the part of his brain that’s still sober knows he can’t say it out loud.

But a much larger part of his brain is drunk, and drunk Leif tends to speak impulsively. Drunk Leif tends to do things like sing an Air Supply song to his ex. 

Drunk Leif is opening his mouth. 

Drunk Leif is saying, “I’m in love with you.”

There’s a long pause, and the realization of what he just did is setting in. Leif sits up and turns so he’s face to face with Tobin, who has a blank expression.

Finally, he speaks. “... well that tops my bird confession.”

“Tobin, I-”

Leif doesn’t have time to finish before his friend is kissing him.

Sober Leif would pull away. Sober Leif would talk through his feelings, and ask Tobin how he felt, and take things slow.

But Sober Leif isn’t here.

Which possibly explains how the next thing he knows, it’s morning, and he’s still on the couch. And Tobin is sleeping on top of him. And neither of them are wearing a shirt.

Well, shit.

Leif tries to move out from under Tobin without waking him, because he’s currently far more concerned with his throbbing headache than the fact that he made out with his best friend last night.

Of course, Tobin wakes up anyway. He stares sleepy-eyed at Leif, who’s putting on his crumpled up shirt.

“Where- what-” Tobin looks around before running his hand through his bedhead. “Fuck, did we-”

“I’m going to get some food and water.” Leif says, not looking at Tobin. He goes to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water, but Tobin is still talking despite Leif’s obvious signs that he doesn’t want to talk.

“Dude, come back here, we should tal-”

“I’m going to check my email.” Leif says, rushing into his room and locking the door behind him.

Leif falls on the bed and screams into a pillow. 

Fuck!

He’s tempted to just close his eyes and fall back asleep, ignoring the pain and the consequences of his actions.

And he may have done just that, had it not been for the incessant knocking at his door. 

“Go away!” Leif shouts, still muffled by the pillow. 

“Dude, just open the door. You’re acting immature.” Had Leif not been so hungover, he would have laughed at that. He’s the immature one?!

He continues to ignore Tobin, and once again almost dozes off but then he hears the door swing open.

He sits up very slowly and turns around. “How did you get in here? I locked the door!”

Tobin holds up a paper clip and grins. “I hacked into the CIA, do you really think I wouldn’t know how to pick a lock?”

“Well, you’ve never done it before, how was I to know?”

“That’s because,” Tobin sits on the corner of Leif’s bed. “I usually try to give you your privacy. But I thought that this situation was more important than your privacy.”

“Gee, thanks.” Leif sits up a bit more, clutching to the bedsheets to avoid getting dizzy. “You seem surprisingly sober.” Leif remarks.

“Yeah well, I handle my alcohol better than you. Plus I’ve been hungover way more than you, so I’m more used to it. Plus-” Tobin stops talking abruptly and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Plus what?” Leif asks, suddenly also feeling a lot more sober. Tobin doesn’t respond, and the longer the silence between them grows, the more Leif remembers last night’s events. “Tobes, plus what?” He asks again, more desperate this time.

Tobin takes a deep breath. “Plus having the love of your life say he likes you too and kiss you back tends to clear your mind.” 

“The… I… what?” Leif can’t process anything that Tobin just said to him.

Tobin looks up at Leif with fear in his eyes. “Okay, well maybe love of my life is a bit dramatic, but it has been fifteen years, so it’s not that far off.”

Leif still doesn’t respond.

“...Oh.” Tobin says in a small voice. “Well, if you don’t actually- if you- if that was just a drunk Leif thing, if you… didn’t mean it… that’s fine.” The way his voice cracks shows that it’s clearly not fine. 

Leif thinks his brain is broken. 

Tobin stands from the bed and shakily moves towards the door, but luckily Leif’s mind and ability to move kick back in right then.

“Wait!” He tries to stand up but falls on the floor. So much for that ‘ability to move’ thing. 

Tobin turns around and despite the hurt expression he’s still wearing, he laughs a bit. “Bro, are you ok?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just hungover. And in shock.” Leif stands up again and rubs his head. “But please, wait. Sit back down.”

Tobin does so, even though he still looks like he desperately wants to leave.

“Tobes…” Leif starts. This would be a lot easier to do if he wasn’t in immense amounts of pain. “It wasn’t just a drunk Leif thing. I mean, sober Leif wouldn’t have done it, but that’s just because he’s a coward. It doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it.”

Tobin looks up, a small smile on his face. “Yeah?”

Leif smiles too. “Yeah.”

They both look down, smiles still on their faces, blushing.

“So…” Leif says after a while. “Fifteen years, huh?”

“I… uh, yep.” Tobin says. “Ever since eighth grade, when you showed up to that stupid school dance in that stupid baby blue suit, and tiny Tobin just went ‘shit, do I like guys?’ and then tiny Tobin grew into slightly larger Tobin and went ‘yep, I definitely like guys, specifically the guy who’s been my best friend since third grade’ and then slightly larger Tobin grew into an even bigger Tobin who decided that fact was very embarrassing and he should never tell it to anyone and then even bigger Tobin grew-”

Leif cut him off with a small kiss.  “I think I get the point, Even Bigger Tobin.” He says, laughing.

“Oh no, I’m not even bigger Tobin, I’m biggest Tobin. Even bigger Tobin was sometime around college.”

“Of course, my bad.” Leif laughs. He nudges Tobin with his knees. “You’re smitten, you loser.”

“Well you don’t seem very… whatever the opposite of smitten is yourself.”

Leif smiles at him. “I’m not. It’s been a bit over ten years on my end.”

Tobin does a double take. “Over ten years?!”

“Yes?” Leif answers, confused. 

“You’re telling me I could have been gettin’ some of this for over ten years?!” Tobin gestures to Leif’s whole body, and Leif tucks into himself, self-conscious. 

“I’m not quite sure I would word it like that, but… yeah? I guess?”

“Jesus.” Tobin shakes his head, looking disappointed. “I should have just said something.”

“I should have too.” Leif says quietly. “But hey, it only took me ten years, quarantine, and copious amounts of alcohol.”

“I should get you drunk more often.” 

“You don’t need to get me drunk anymore. You have me.”

Tobin smiles. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Tobes?” 

“What?”

Leif leans in and kisses him. “Let’s make up for lost time.”

***

“Hey,” Leif starts, sitting down at the table where Tobin is already eating. It’s the day after The Big Confession™, as Tobin has decided to call it.

“Hey?”

“Don’t think that just because we’re dating now it means I’ve forgotten about your secret life as a bird criminal.” Leif smirks at him. 

“Oh, geez.” Tobin forgot that he admitted that.

“And I will turn you into the authorities if need be.” Leif adds with a faux-serious face.

“Really? And betray your own boyfriend like that?!” Tobin doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to using that word.

“Sorry, babe. I care more about the good of bird-kind.” Leif stands to get food and stops to kiss Tobin’s forehead. It takes all of Tobin’s self control not to melt. 

“Hey, you know we have a work call in an hour, right?” Tobin asks, leaning his head back over his chair so he can see Leif.

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Well, I was just wondering how we act. Y’know, now that… yeah.”

“You have such a way with words.” Leif says sarcastically, returning to the table. “But since you asked, I wasn’t planning on saying anything. They’re our coworkers, they don’t need to know about our dating lives.”

“I just thought I should tell Zoey.”

Leif raises an eyebrow. “Zoey? Out of all the people we work with, Zoey would be the last one I would think to tell.”

“It’s just, she…” Tobin pauses. “Remember the watermelon call?”

“Of course.”

“It wasn’t about watermelon. And it wasn’t about her brother’s dating life, or whatever bullshit excuse I came up with. It was about us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah. Zoey asked if I liked you. I still have no idea how she knew, or why she thought it important enough to call me about, but she did. So I feel like I should tell her.”

Leif sighs. “If you want to tell her, go ahead. But I’m never sharing anything with Zoey Clarke unless I’m forced to.”

“Dude, she’s not really that bad, you know. When you and I were in that weird fight, she was actually pretty nice to me, in her own awkward way.”

Leif sighs again. “Yeah, but it’s been fun to have a workplace rivalry for as long as I have. I don’t want to give it up now.”

“Geez, babe, you’re petty.” 

“And you’re pretty.” Leif says, staring at him with fondness in his bright blue eyes. Tobin blushes.

“That was barely an opening.”

“And yet…” Leif grabs Tobin’s arm and pulls him in for a kiss. “I took it.”

Tobin doesn’t know why he’s nervous for the call. There’s nothing obviously different about the way he and Leif are sitting or how they look in the camera. It’s the same as last time, squished together awkwardly in front of the camera. Maybe that’s the difference. They don’t look awkward anymore. They look happy to be this close. Is it obvious to others or is Tobin just overanalyzing the situation?

“Tobes, chill out, I’m about to join the call.”

“I’m chill!”

Leif gives him a look. “No you’re not. You do realize it’s going to be way more obvious that something’s up with us if you’re visibly panicking.”

“Fine.” Tobin gestures at the computer. “Start the call.” 

Leif does, and this time the only people on are Zoey and Max, since Joan’s not involved with this particular meeting.

“Hi you two!” Zoey says, stopping whatever secret romantic conversation she was having with Max and paying attention to the new members of her call.

“Hi Zoey.” Tobin says tensely, and Leif nudges him subtly, another message for Tobin to chill.

“Hey.” Leif nods at them.

“Anything new with you guys?” Max asks, and Tobin mentally smacks his head, remembering that Max heard him and Zoey’s call, too. 

“Uhh…” Leif turns to Tobin and cocks his head. 

Tobin knows he said he wanted to tell Zoey about them, but he’s currently regretting saying that. 

He decides to go for a subtle approach.

“Not much.” Tobin says, winking, and taking Leif’s hand. He plops his head on Leif’s shoulder and feels his boyfriend relax. 

Zoey’s smile is wide. “Not much on our end either.” She says, although she presumably means it.

The rest of the call goes fine, Tobin lifts his head from Leif as soon as someone else joins, and although they keep holding hands under the view of the camera, no one seems to suspect anything.

“Hey,” Tobin says, once again putting his head on Leif’s shoulder as soon as the call is over.

“Hey what?” Leif asks.

“I just thought of a new way we can pass the time.” Tobin says with a smirk.

“Oh? What’s that?” 

“This.” Tobin says, moving so he’s sitting on Leif’s lap. 

“Oh?” Leif says again, blushing.

Tobin kisses him passionately. Like Leif said, they have a lot of time to make up for. And maybe, just maybe, they can make up fifteen years worth of missed kisses, and soft glances, and tender touches, and exploring each other’s bodies in the dark over the course of months stuck at home together.

***

“Two and a half months. Two and a half months!” Leif shouted to no one in particular. Tobin sticks his head out of their room- yes, their room. A week or so ago they decided it was pointless to have two rooms so Tobin’s room is more of a guest room/office now- and hollers to Leif. 

“I swear to god, if I come out there and you’re making more baked goods, I will throttle you!”

Leif smiles to himself. “Is that a threat or a promise?!” He calls back.

He can hear Tobin say. “There’s a time and place, dude.”

“Not in quarantine, there isn’t!”

“You are quite purposefully avoiding my baked goods accusation and I’m coming to the kitchen, so you better be hiding all evidence of cookies!”

Leif doesn’t bother trying to clean up the mess of a kitchen in front of him.

“I knew it!” Tobin shouts, startling Leif.

“I’m sorry, ok! It’s just, baking is fun, and very few things are fun anymore and I need something to do otherwise I’ll go crazy!” 

Tobin puts his hands over his ears. “I’m not listening! If I have to clean up flour from this kitchen one more time I’m going to lose it.”

Leif just crosses his arms. “What about that promised throttling?”

Tobin faux-lunges at him, and Leifs arms flash out and pull him in for a kiss.

Tobin pulls away after a moment. “You taste like cookie dough.” He kisses Leif again. “Could be worse, I guess.”

#TAKE IT!! #I AM SO GLAD TO FINALLY BE POSTING THIS #i'm actually pretty proud of it overall #obviously there are a.. lot. of flaws. but considering i wrote it so long ago and still like it?? not bad #coder boyfriends fic #coder boyfriends #coder bfs #tobin batra #leif donnelly #leif x tobin #tobin x leif #zoey's extraordinary playlist #zep #eli.writes #usermickey #this one's for you mickey

[milesfromjapan]

Date Night

A knock at the door signaled his arrival. You loved how he insisted on coming all the way up to your seventh floor apartment, despite the lack of elevator in your building, to pick you up. It was the littlest things that made your heart beat a little faster for him. You grabbed your phone, quickly shoving it in your bag, but not quick enough that he hadn’t already started knocking again when you reached the door.

“Wow, you look stunning,” he said with a lazy smile on his face and his fist still on your door like he had forgotten it was even there because you were there to look at now.

“Thanks,” you laughed, “but it’s just jeans and a shirt.”

“Yeah, but it’s you,” he asserted.

You rolled your eyes before grabbing his free hand and leading him back down the stairs he just walked up to get to you. His long legs made him become the leader before you’d even finishes half a flight of stairs. You huffed in annoyance as he pulled on your arm a little due to how far in front of you he was.

“You can take the stairs two at a time. Cut me some slack,” you told him.

“You know,” he jumped to the sixth floor landing, “I hadn’t really thought about that before. My bad.”

You couldn’t pretend to be annoyed for more than a few seconds as a smile spread across your face. Just looking at his excited face made you smile wide. His hair was curlier today than usual, probably because of the rain that had just stopped. Little crinkles formed at the corner of his eyes from the smile he got from looking at you. His denim jacket hung loosely off his shoulders and his sunglasses were clipped to the collar of his white t-shirt. You shook your head a little to yourself as you started continuing down the stairwell with him.

“What?” he asked you upon noticing your head shake.

“You’re pretty cute, Mendes,” you replied.

“Just cute? Wow. Harsh.”

His free hand went to his chest over his heart to try and show you just how much your statement had bothered him. He couldn’t keep up the act for more than a few seconds because, well, it’s you and he’s too crazy about you to be able to find the words. You chatted about his day as you walk to the lobby.

“You know, you should really move. These stairs are a bitch,” he told you as he held open the exit door for you.

“I thought it would make me exercise more. Pretty sure I exercise less now,” you laughed in reply.

He took your hand in his again and pulled you to the right, the opposite direction of the parking lot. You turned to him with furrowed brows and tilted your head to the side to express your confusion.

“It’s really nice out now and the place it’s pretty close by, so I figured you wouldn’t mind a little walk,” he suggested, his face hopeful.

“I am down for a walk,” you told him, making him smile.

He dropped your hand in order to sling his arm over your shoulders instead. With the height difference putting him at a strong advantage, this was his favorite way to hold you. He liked keeping you close, like he could protect you from anyone and anything if you were right by his side. You put your arm around his waist to secure yourself to him and he gave you a quick hug, pulling you into him more and resting his head briefly on your head before pulling back to ask you about your day. With your arm around his waist, his arm over your shoulders keeping close to his side, you felt like there was nothing you couldn’t do.

You could talk to him for hours and never be bored for a second. You never forced a conversation and you didn’t think you were going to have to anytime soon. You clicked from the moment you met and had been finding out just how well you fit together every day since. His large tattooed hand playing absentmindedly with the collar on your shirt as you walked and talked.

“Oh my god, puppy!” you practically screamed when you saw a cute puppy across the street. “I want a puppy.”

Shawn laughed a little and gave you a tight squeeze and a quick kiss on the head.

“You’re allergic though,” you sighed as you looked up at him. “It’s your biggest flaw as my boyfriend, you know.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m flawed. I’ll just go,” he mumbled in fake sadness as he turned his body a little away from you like he was going to leave.

You wrapped your other arm around his waist and pulled him back to you. You both were laughing and had stupid smiles on your face. You looked at him and his beautiful smile, eyes that draw you closer and close to him, and a jawline you’d kissed so many mornings already, and you thought that just maybe you’d be able to give up your dreams of being a dog parent for him. Just maybe.

“Oh my god, ice cream!” you screamed when you saw the destination of your walk with Shawn down the street.

Shawn let out a big belly laugh as you started to walk faster in an effort to get to the ice cream faster. Shawn obliged and you practically ran down the street holding his head, both of you laughing the whole way down. You stopped your run just short of the building, not wanting to let the poor high school student on summer break who was about to scoop your ice cream see you running over.

Shawn opened the door for you, as he always did, claiming his chivalry was one of the main reasons you started dating him. It wasn’t; it was just one of a million reasons you stayed. You scanned over the ice cream, trying to decide what you wanted. Shawn’s large hand found the small of your back as your eyes scanned over all of the flavors. His hand moved in smooth, calming circles, making you lean into his side. After a long survey of each flavor and careful consideration, you select cookie dough and chocolate brownie. Shawn ended up with mint chocolate chip and vanilla.

“Want to sit?” Shawn gestured to a free high top table in the corner.

“Sure,” you replied. You took a seat opposite him and immediately shoved a slightly too large bite of ice cream in your mouth. He shook his head little at you with a bright, unwavering smile on his face. The smile never went away for you. You were his soft spot and everyone knew it. You looked over toward him and he smiled around a spoonful of ice cream that he was. You giggled and tapped your spoon on the end of his nose with it, making his recoil quickly with a small brown dot of melted chocolate ice cream on the end of his nose. He tried to cross his eyes to look at it with no luck.

“You’re real cute,” you told him as he reached up to wipe the chocolate sauce off his nose with his sleeve.

“Nah, that’s you.”

He got back at you by tapping the end of your nose with his spoon, leaving what was definitely a mint green splotch on the end of your nose. You huffed and wiped it off with your hand, making him smile and drop a quick kiss to your forward.

“The cutest person in the fucking world,” Shawn muttered to you.

You couldn’t stop a big smile from forming on your face. You leaned over the table toward him. He met you the rest of the way and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You were both smiling into the kiss, which made you feel warm despite the slightly chilly air in the shop. When you started to pull back, he came with you and placed several quick kisses on your lips, making you laugh yet again. He made you laugh and smile constantly, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by your family when you brought him around for the first time a few weeks ago.

“You’re Shawn Mendes, right?”

You both turned your head to see a girl a few years younger than both of you. Her eyes were wide in amazement that she happened to run across him just out and about in the city. She was clutching her phone, clearly in the hopes of getting a picture with him.

“Yeah, I am. Do you want a picture?” Shawn asked as he dropped his spoon into his ice cream

“Oh my god, yes!” she squealed.

“Do you want me to take it?” you offered.

“You would do that? Yes, please, that would be go great!”

She opened the camera and handed you her phone as Shawn stood up next to her. He towered over her, like he did to you and most other people. You told them to say cheese before talking several photos to try and make sure she got a good photo. He gave her a hug and then you passed her back her phone.

“Thank you so much for taking it,” she said to you before she left to rejoin her parents at their table across the shop

Shawn’s tattooed hand reached across the table in search for yours, which you gave him. He gave your hand a quick squeeze. It was his way of apologizing for the interruption. He knew you said you didn’t mind, but he felt bad each time your dates were interrupted since you didn’t get to have too many of them. You didn’t care. His fans made his dreams possible and that was enough for you.

“Are you ready to go?” Shawn asked you just as you were taking your last bite of ice cream.

“Yep,” you replied.

Shawn grabbed your trash for you and took your hand in his with his free one again. He tossed them away and still beat you to the door to open it for you. As you started to turn to head back to your place after exiting, Shawn’s strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you back against his chest. He leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“I adore you,” he told you before leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. “You’re incredible.”

Your hands rested on top of his and you let out a content sigh.

“You’re amazing,” you said back. “Wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

He kissed your cheek again and you could feel the smile on his lips. His one kiss turned into dozens all over the side of your face and forehead, anything he could reach. You both were laughing by the time he stopped. You spun in his arms to face him so you could give him a proper kiss, pulling him down to you with a hand on the back of his neck. One of his hands left your waist to cup the side of your face, pulling you into a deeper kiss. “Hi there,” he laughed when you pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

“Hi,” you laughed back.

He kissed your forehead and pulled back. A breeze suddenly passed by, making you shiver. Shawn released you and pulled off his jacket and handed it to you. You tried to push it back to him, but he just pushed it back to. You sighed and took it, sliding your arms through the far too long sleeves since you knew there was no way you were going to win this battle

“You’re so little,” he said as he pushed the sleeve up to grab your hand.

“You’re just a giant,” you replied. “Giant boyfriend.”

“Your giant boyfriend though,” he retorted. “I only want to be your giant boyfriend.”

You smiled to yourself as you started the walk home. His jacket hung off your shoulders and the sleeves puddled around your wrists. You listened to him tell you some story from on tour and you were happy. You loved him. You didn’t know if he loved you too yet, but you hoped he would someday and that hope was good enough for now.

#shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn menders blurb #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fluff #boyfriend!shawn #shawn mendes imagine

[nedcanquen]

A Bond Forged With Steel (Hetalia Rare Pair Exchange 2017) - Part 1

Hi @realmzenith! Here is Part 1 of your Secret Santa Gift! (I am currently typing Part 2 like crazy but I will post it by Jan 17th!) I’m sorry it has taken me so long, I started and restarted this fic three times! I hope you like your gift (multi-chapter fic!).

For the rest of my readers - have a GerMerica break from the usual programming :P for the Hetalia Rare Pair Secret Santa Exchange. Thanks for organizing @aphsecretsanta! (And I will post Part 2 very soon!)

Pairing: Germany/America

Rating: Teen

Tags: Fantasy AU

Image from Pexels

For as long as he can remember, Ludwig has known exactly what he was going to do with his life – he was going to follow his family's craft and be a Beilschmidt Blacksmith. Beilschmidt blades and works were famous across the lands of the Kingdom of Hetalia, ruled over by the now mostly retired warrior-king Roma. Roma however, had set an example for most of his citizens by going on many quests as a much younger man. Now everyone wanted to be some kind of a hero.

For the most part, the Kingdom's inhabitants got along – humans, elves, dwarves, dragons, and many many others. They knew how to keep to themselves or trade when needed. But once in a while, someone always decided to make trouble, and when that happened – the dragon with serious anger management issues, the overly condescending elf magician who started enchanting and enslaving the humans next door, the serial killer beserkers – well, Roma used to take care of them. Now that Roma was older and dedicated his time to art and music, the many others he had inspired kept the peace for him. Hefty bounties were awarded to successful peacekeepers and in such a place, well, the blacksmith family that was known to produce the best weapons were kept very comfortable indeed.

Ludwig first met the Albion family when he was a boy – just old enough to be allowed to help out at the main forge, but too young to officially start work as an apprentice. Of course, blacksmithing was not only the art of the forge, his brothers and grandfather made sure that he learned about the other aspects of their business – how to do sums and manage the accounting, how to gauge customers and manage them when they came in. There were some customers that the Beilschmidts would not take on, no matter how good their coin was.

Arthur Albion took his name from the forests he had grown up in – the Albion woods lay far in the north, usually covered in fog and rain. It was home to many fae and was strong in magic. There were times when Arthur Albion clearly betrayed his mixed fae-human heritage, with his bright-green eyes, and barely suppressed magical energy. He was a regular customer to their forge, and they especially liked him because he did not always want swords. Most of Arthur's requests were customized and very specialized, with very specific metallic component requirements – his requests were a challenge and worth good coin. Ludwig also wasn't very clear on this, but he had heard one of his brothers say that the human side of Arthur was distant kin to the Beilschmidts.

So on this day, when Ludwig had met Alfred and Matthew Albion for the first time, he remembers the energy and positive humming from Gilbert, singing to himself as he checks their stocks and supplies. “The tankard I last made for Arthur! He used it to bind a spell that helped capture Morgossa the Malevolent –  who comes up with these stupid names?! Anyway, fancy that? A sleeping tankard to get rid of a necomancer. Wonder what it'll be next?!”

Ludwig was especially close to Gilbert so he smiled and followed his brother around in the supply room. “Maybe a bracelet that binds?”

Gilbert shrugged. “Eh...that's been done.”

“Brother, that doesn't mean that it cannot be made again or used again.”

They hear the door opening and their grandfather's familiar gravelly voice greeting Arthur, sounding slightly surprised. When Ludwig and Gilbert arrive in the main hall, they see why – Arthur is holding two children, brothers from the look of them, and around Ludwig's own age. One is clutching to Arthur's hand, the one with curlier hair, while the other is straining to be released from Arthur's hand.

“WOW This IS SO GREAT!”

“Alfred, be still!” Arthur snaps but Alfred ignores him.

“Look Arthur come on! We're standing where the Blue Sword was made! The Azzuri! That was the sword that basically made this kingdom! Oh WOW – is this actually the Snakehaired Princess herself? You know the story right Mattie? King Roma reflected her curse back at her with the sword and she turned to stone! And then he gave Germania Beilschmidt the statue as a 'thank you!'”

There is a lot of coughing in the room suddenly – Gilbert trying his best not to obviously laugh, and his grandfather, well. He is calm and stony, maybe his jaw clenched but that was all. Ludwig admired that, in many ways, he wanted to be like his grandfather – controlled, never letting his emotions best him. His grandfather had once adventured and fought at the King’s side, now he was content to stay at the forge.

“That is enough Alfred!” Arthur sighs. “Now settle down, I need to discuss business with the Beilschmidts.”

It became clear that Alfred was not going to settle down, so finally in a fit of desperation, Arthur stared almost pleadingly at his grandfather.

Gilbert laughed some more before placing a hand on Ludwig's shoulder. “Lud, why don't you show Alfred and Matthew around?”

Ludwig wasn't sure about that, he was shy around strangers and preferred having one of his brothers or something clear as a subject to talk about. Then Gilbert whispered to him “Don't worry, that kid will do all the talking, just ask him which sword or story is his favorite.”

Well, he did have a point.

“Besides, if you can't play with a kid your own age now, how will you talk product specs and price when him later?”

Now that Ludwig understood this was also part of his training, he leaped into the new task with vigor. “I will give you both a tour!” He declared as professionally as he could. He knows the official visit areas – the showroom where they show off gifts and samples of their work, the little museum they have set up to explain their family history and where they source their metals. He's seen his brothers do it countless of times. He can do it! “Come with me!”

Surprisingly, they follow quickly, without a word of protest.

-

“...and this is Wangguo Steel – very rare, we ship it from the far East and have a special agreement with the Dragon Emperor. This is what the Sword of Infinity was forged from – we keep this ore in our museum to-”

“I'm gonna need a sword of...I dunno yet but it's going to have a cool name!” Alfred declares, face pressed against the harmless magical forcefield to stare at the shimmering ore. “Matthew's going to need one too! Isn't that right brother? We'll be going on adventures too!” He looks at Ludwig. “What do you think your first adventure will be? Taming a Skaya Eagle? Saving a town from the appetites of the Pontianak vampires? Defeating a Dragon at chess?!”

“No!” Ludwig looks at Alfred in shock. “My first adventure will be making my first real sword for  questors! Not children who want to get themselves killed. Aren't you supposed to start small and work your way up? Take care of a naughty gremlin or two first?”

Alfred's face falls. “But they’re not really harmful harmful! I mean there’s actual harmful that people need help from, and pests that they could take care of if they weren’t actually lazy.”

Ludwig considers this logic for a moment. “But people are busy. Wouldn’t you be a hero too if you freed up a senior hero to actually go fight a necromancer, rather than waste their time on gremlins?”

Something lights up in Alfred’s face but Matthew looks upwards with a long-suffering sigh. Before the boys leave, they promise that they will write, and make Ludwig promise that he will write back.

Three months later, Ludwig reads that Alfred has been clearing the Albion home (and basically every area his seven-year-old legs could run himself to) of Gremlins.

NINE YEARS LATER

Ludwig bears up with the travelling like any other hardship he endures, but he still misses home.

“You won’t always have all the tools and comforts of home available when we’re contracted to do our jobs!” Gilbert lectures as he and Ludwig walk beside the horses pulling their travelling forge. Gilbert has always been a hard taskmaster, but it has only intensified over the years. This journey is a test of sorts - if Ludwig can produce all manner of tools, weapons, armor, and whatever objects or tasks he’s challenged to with this traveling forge he’s built himself...well...he’s ready to join the rest of the family. He’ll be a full blacksmith.

“Why is Francis suddenly so adamant to have a blacksmith on-site?” Ludwig should have asked this sooner but he was so focused on building the forge, and making sure his materials were all accounted for and packed. Purchasing the services of an on-site blacksmith would already be astronomical in cost, yet Francis, Duke of Bonnefoy and one of the King’s many grandsons, had purchased a contract with the Beilschmidts in particular. Gilbert was the main blacksmith, as Francis’ friend as well, but Ludwig had to go along to complete his apprenticeship. Gilbert was to be his final reviewer of everything he made though, and Gilbert had an exacting eye for quality.

“A new project, a new charge to irritate Arthur Albion. But I kinda agree, and it wasn’t just Francis who purchased our services.”

“Who else?”

Gilbert laughs. “You haven’t heard from your penpals in a while have you? Arthur’s charges.”

Ludwig shakes his head. “I think we all had more important things to do. Trades to master.” The past few years would be the most intense for any apprentice. “I last heard that the boys did not manifest magical abilities, so they are training to become warriors.”

“As expected.” Gilbert shrugs.

When they finally arrive at Duke Francis’ estate, Ludwig feels a little bad that he has to mar the perfect green grass with the forge’s wheels, but this is where he is told to put it, so that he does. Eventually, he will explore the grounds for himself to better understand where the forge can be kept so that it is both conveniently placed and not marring the prettiness of the place. He’s making sure nothing has been damaged by the long journey (even though he had checked the forge consistently, three times a day, since they had begun) when Francis’ arrival is announced.

“You finally made it Gilbert!” Francis laughs. There was a part of Ludwig that had often admired his brother’s friend’s sense of art, aesthetics, and daring.

“Finally? You travel on foot carrying a forge with you, you spoiled brat! Now where’s the student?!”

Student? Another student? Ludwig’s curiosity burns enough to turn him from the forge.

“Right here. Alfred! You remember Gilbert of course, he is the best swordsman I know, he will teach you.”

Alfred? Ludwig jogs up to where the group is speaking and stares. It IS Alfred Albion. Alfred notices him too, and for a moment, their eyes lock. Has so much time passed? How is Alfred as tall as him now? What has...

“OKAY LISTEN UP!” Gilbert yells and that’s enough to make Alfred pay attention to him instead. “I’m gonna have two students at the same time so Ludwig, Alfred, listen carefully. Alfred, you’ve paid for me to be your swordsmaster for six months - that’s enough for me to get you grounded on BASICS! But once you have that strong foundation in basics…”

Ludwig didn’t hear the rest of the lecture but HOW? How did Alfred afford this?!

“And Ludwig! While I’m training Alfred, you have to watch - watch how he moves, watch what he needs, this is part of your training and your test - I’ll be quizzing you on how you customize body armour, tools, and weapons for Alfred, specific to his needs, how you’d make him the best warrior he can be. You’ll outfit Alfred and if I’m satisfied, your apprenticeship is over, if not, you’ll melt them down and if I’m pleased with Alfred, I’ll build his suit. And YOU…”

Alfred snaps back at attention.

“You’re going to have to earn it. My brother can make you the best armor and weapons in the known world, but only if you’re worthy of it. I have no qualms melting down our products rather than letting them be soiled by unworthiness. Both of you, is that clear?”

“Clear!” Ludwig yells out of habit. Francis however, has to nudge Alfred before he nervously stands at attention and yells the same.

#aph secret santa #aphsecretsanta #aph germany #aph usa #germerica #fic: A Bond Forged With Steel

[floralreddie]

falling in love with Richie Tozier: Part 5 (when they’re adults)

this is a kind of rev up for what’s to come (fighting IT, getting to Mike’s and talking) and is also my own interpretation of chapter 2, though leaving quite a bit out. it would take about a billion more of these imagines to write what I hope/think is to come in that, so I’m squishing it down lmao

you feel like vomiting after Mike hangs up

you don’t

instead, you cry

you push yourself into your kitchen, which is white and black and red and full of little trinkets hanging from the ceiling and walls, and you pour yourself a gin and lime and down it in one

because

what the fuck

how could you forget? you knew, you always knew, that Derry wasn’t a normal town, without normal adults, but you don’t know how you can forget something as important as the place where you grew up

and the people in it

(The Losers)

and It

because suddenly you’re in the woods again and you’re thirteen, and you’re seeing that shape of the scaly, slithering thing that looks like a snake but kind of looks like a human and then...then it’s a fucking clown with yellow eyes and a drooling grin

and Mike...Mike had said it was back

(and you had choked and gasped and said sorry so many times, because you said you would call him and you never fucking did and you forgot him and he’s been there for years and he was (is) your best friend)

you book a plane ticket straight after the phone call, terror seeping in to you that you had always hated as a child; one that you had worked so hard to outgrow

because you save lives

you’re a fucking boss of a surgeon

but you’re suddenly so scared

but you book that plane ticket to Maine, hand shaking as it hovers over your laptop and the other holding that glass of gin to your lips

you think of times when you had been on the verge of remembering those boys and that girl, and you wonder what their blurred faces look like now

how could you love people so intently that you didn’t even remember?

you book time of work (not an easy thing considering your profession, but you made a fucking pact when you were thirteen and suddenly your palm is tingling and, Jesus, how could you have forgotten?)

you pack a bag and dress yourself in black jeans, a loose black shirt and a leather jacket and as you leave your apartment, you made special sure that you let that firefly necklace sit atop your shirt

and your heart hammers

because you’re...you’re seeing someone you forgot about, and all you remember is a laugh and a song and a nervous breath as he told you he loved you

the plane ride is long and tedious, but you shove on a a few episodes of Game of Thrones and ride through it, and suddenly you’re renting a car and hopping in it and shoving the music on as loud as it can go (and you wait until you find a station that’s playing something old and rocky, because you need to listen to something that reminds you of your youth)

and suddenly you’re remembering a sewer

and a boy with a stutter who lost his brother

and a creepy fucking house where a small and brave boy broke is arm 

and you gasp and choke and drive just a little faster

you don’t know that he’s just a few miles ahead of you, just on the boarder of Derry driving some obnoxiously brightly coloured car and listening to the same station as you

you follow Mike’s instructions and head for the Chinese restaurant you remember your parents used to enjoy, and your heart feels heavy as you look about at the old building and the paint work of the shops that has changed so little and yet so much

and fuck

Bev used to live in that flat at the top of that building? (and you’re laughing because, fuck, you remembered her name after all these years)

and you used to ride your bike there with the boys with the blurred faces

and that’s where Eddie threw up on that street corner the first time he tasted vodka and that’s where Stan finally laughed at one of your jokes

and you’re remembering their names

and you shut off the music and park down the street, heart hammering and palms sweaty and tugging at your long hair and patting your cheeks because, shit, you’ve always hated being scared

‘oh, fuck,’ you mutter, because it’s fifteen minutes past and you’ve been staring out of the windscreen for far too long and why the fuck are you such an idiot?

you tug at your necklace and think...think of who will be in there

because there were eight of you, right?

...yeah

you slam the car door and lock it, and curse the fact that you’re probably going to be the last one walking in and why the hell are you such a nervous wreck, you’d gotten over such things when you...you befriended them

you surge into the restaurant, brown bag hanging over your shoulder with one single badge hanging off the strap (its a The Cure one, because you don’t know why the hell you’ve always loved that damn band)

(and that song...Love Song, was it?)

the restaurant is dimly lit and full of people, because it’s a Friday, and you can’t quite believe you’re in fucking Derry, a town you had only ever remembered as being boring and friendless and you don’t know how, because you’re remembering days at the Quarry and star gazing with your boyfriend (because, fuck, you’d had one, hadn’t you?) and (had they all forgotten, too?)

and you weave through tables, searching the faces and panicking that maybe you won’t recognise them (because it’s been so, so long and the last time you saw any of them you were eighteen)

but then you turn

and you stop

because through an archway, past a waitress who’s leaving the room, is a table filled with six adults

(but shouldn’t there be seven?)

and they’re laughing

and they’ve already ordered their drinks (the fuckers)

and you eyes meet brown, brown eyes, and they’re crinkled mid-laugh, and suddenly they widen and soften

his hair is curlier and longer and pushed back from his face, and he’s wearing a loose fitting white shirt and loose black tie and there’s lines around his face and stubble on his jaw and his nose is longer he’s still so scruffy but so well put-together and 

(‘Y/N!)

and they all turn

and the man who called your name is dark skinned and tall, with greying hair and bags underneath his eyes and he’s standing

and you’re laughing as you rush over to him, almost tripping over the heeled ankle boots you’re wearing

and he’s wrapped his armed around you and he is warm and big and you’re breathing against his cheek and huffing out a, ‘Mike!’

and next is a woman with curly red hair to her shoulders, who smells of cigarettes and perfume and has dressed in dangly earrings and a loose black dress and you gape at her before yanking her toward you and smooshing a kiss against her cheek and she laughs

‘Jesus, (Y/N), you miss me?’

you snort. ‘I’m pissed, Bev. you left me alone with these assholes for five whole years’.

and then a shorter, but still taller than you, dark haired man with large brown eyes and a half-smile is standing from his chair and rounding the table to you. he’s pale and freckles and both handsome and adorable at the same time. ‘you weren’t complaining when you begged to sit with us that first day back’ (after that summer of hell)

‘Kaspbrak,’ you snort, letting him pull you into a hug. ‘I did not beg, Ed’s’

he stiffens and sighs. ‘Oh, don’t you start!’

you snort

a man behind Bev who is tall and handsome but maybe a little too skinny sidles around the pretty but tired looking Beverly Marsh and you gape, whilst the others laugh. ‘Ben?’

‘I know,’ he shrugs and laughs and his hug is strong and solid, and then Bill is hugging you and his stutter has gone but his blue eyes are still the same (but his hair cut is a little better) and, fuck, you haven’t seen him in so long

and then it’s his turn

and you understand so profoundly who he is as he raises from his seat (and he’s grown even more since he was eighteen, he must be 6′3 now) and his moves with that awkward, lazy grace that was so like Richie Tozier that you almost choke on your breath as he brings a hand forward, touches the necklace resting against your chest, scoffs, and then pulls you to his chest just like he used to, with his arms wrapped so securely around you you’re sure you might suffocate (and he still smells the fucking same)

his voice is low and drawling when he talks against your hair. ‘saving the best ‘till last, doll?’

(and you remember that time you heard him on the radio, because you understand that it was him, now)

‘shut it, Tozier,’ you breathe, and he’s home and light and the reason you haven't bothered looking at or touching anyone else, because whilst he filled the void with girlfriends and boyfriends, you couldn’t possibly do the same

because

he’s Richie

and the others are quiet for a moment, before you’re snatching yourself away from him and laughing and he does the same, but his eyes linger on you as you take the free seat beside Mike near the head of the table and opposite Richie and Eddie

the waitress comes over and you order a gin and you ask them all what they’ve been doing (and Richie makes some comment about how you should have come on time, then you wouldn’t have missed that part)

you flip him the bird

and he pretends to catch it

and they’ve all done so well

all of them (us, you think, us)

you tell them you’re a Doctor and that you live in L.A

and Richie stares at you the whole time you talk, but you pretend that you haven’t noticed

before he breathes out slowly, ‘The fuck, (Y/N). I live in Beverly Hills’

and you gape as he shakes his head and laughs, running a hand through his mop of hair (and, fuck, you always loved his hair)

and Mike rolls his eyes

and Bev looks at Ben as he asks if anyone got married

you eye Bev as she struggled around describing her boyfriend (because you worked with women like her in the Hospital and in your training, and you know an abused partner when you see one)

and you watch how Ben watches her

and you and Richie (you both watch each other closely when it’s your separate turns) breath out selfish sighs of relief when you reveal you’re both single

‘did it wrong too many times,’ he insists to Bill, and you wonder what his life has been like without you

‘being a Doctor takes up a shit load of time,’ you shrug out

and you all

slowly

talk about that summer

and you put the pieces together

because you remember that Bowers kid died

and you remember you all saved this shithole of a town

and Bev remembers how adults would see Greta and the Bowers gang fucking with her, and never did anything

and you remember the first time you ever saw them, as they helped Ben with his injuries and you remember, as Bill talks (but his stutter is slowly seeping into his voice) the day at the arcade when all of you were fighting after Eddie broke his arm (’yeah, and Tozier fucking snapped it back into place. don’t think I’ve forgotten that, Richie’), in which you befriended a bespectacled and trashmouth Richie Tozier 

and everyone is listening so intently to Bill as he picks apart the things you have all forgotten (Mike insists he remembers more, because he never left and that’s how things go to shit with forgetting) and Bill nods and swiftly asks questions (because after all these years, he’s still the Leader) you look across the table, past Eddie who had mentioned earlier a marriage that you all knew he didn’t want, and you catch Richie’s eye

because he’s staring at you

and you’re staring at him

and you both smile at the same time, and it’s such a fucking bittersweet smile that you almost start crying there

and when you all leave the restaurant later, a little tispy and a little confused as to where the fuck Stan is, you find yourself walking by Richie’s side as Mike gives directions to his house (but you all know where he means, because suddenly you all remember Derry so vividly) and you nudge Richie and he looks down at you, a dark curl falling into his face and his brown eyes slowly filling that void within you, and you frown and say,

‘I told you I’d kill you if you ever got contacts’

and he smiles and rolls his eyes and says, ‘Sorry, doll. I guess I forgot’

you frown and brush your hand against his, and his pinky catches yours, and you see Mike and Eddie wander off a little to the left to give you both some privacy, and Ben and Bev and Bill seem to be migrating toward each other, and the absence of the boy with the curly hair and neat shirts and biting words is so eerily real. ‘Yeah,’ you breathe, frowning and swallowing. ‘I guess we did, huh? no matter how much we promised we wouldn’t, Rich’

and the way he looks at you then....you know whilst it has never been over for you, it hasn’t for him either

#areyoureddiekids #richie x reader #richie tozier #it (2017)

[linssikeittomies]

Apocalypse. In 50 Years. Chapter 2 (WIP)

I have zero inspiration to write this story -_- I can’t even name the chapter, let alone finish it... Anyone, please adopt this project if you find it even the least bit interesting.

--

Ahh, Saturday morning! Nowhere to go, nothing to do but enjoy the soft bed and drift in and out of sleep for as long as I want… “GAAAH!” What the fuck?! Rapture is standing right next to my bed, peering down at me like it’s totally normal! What is wrong with her?! “I see you are awake”, she comments flatly. “I see you camped out next to my bed!”

I don’t remember her being there in the evening, did she come in later to guard my sleep? ‘Cause I would appreciate her doing it a bit further away! And she’s still not making any kind of move to give me some peace! “Do you mind?” She just tilts her head like a dog trying to understand something. Well, my morning’s already ruined, so might as well get up early. “I wanna get dressed. I prefer not to have an audience.” Rapture leaves the room and closes the door behind her without a word. Surprisingly enough, she doesn’t start talking with (or rather, complain at) Meta, either. I dig out some clothes again, going through outfits to see which elicits the least sense of wrong. But all of them feel exactly the same – not wrong at all. Just what is going on? Should I be worried? I’m not gonna lie, I’m relieved the feeling is at long last gone, after suffering from constant pressure for damn near a decade, but having it just disappear like that! Does… does it have something to do with my guardian angel? Rapture said she and Meta replaced the guardian angel I had, and I stopped feeling wrong right after the hand waved me goodbye… Wow, jerk move, guardian angel! Making me feel like crap about myself, never letting me know what’s right, nooooo, everything just had to be wrong! Thanks a bunch! That’s your idea of guidance? Forcing me to choose what feels a fraction less wrong? Unbelievable! Seeing Meta passed out on the couch doesn’t do much to lift my spirits, either. You’d think an angel would take her job of guarding the grandmother of Christ just a tad more seriously. Rapture might have been stalking me in my sleep, but at least she was awake for any possible threats rushing in the window or whatever. And speaking of her… The reason she stayed quietly earlier was because she wanted to complain to me once I got out. “Look at her! She is terrible! She sleeps all night and most of the morning, some of the day even!” Honestly, why meeeeee? These two maniacs are gonna drive me to manslaughter. “And even her waking time she wastes on TV and punching walls!” Heaven has TV? Or did these two just mainly spend their time on Earth? What would a Heaven TV show even be about? Mostly reality, or news, or dramas? I have a little trouble believing creatures of virtue would make soap operas. I mean, I doubt they have genitals to cheat on their spouses with. And their kids couldn’t get into drugs, due to, you know, not existing? Or… hmm. Well, I could just ask - if Rapture would let me get a word in edgewise. “What am I to do with this lazy sack of immorality? I have never had this problem with any of the other garrison members! I might even say she is doing this on purpose! Just look! She has yet to even stir!” Yeah, it really was starting to look like Meta was pissing off her partner on purpose. No one should be able to sleep through her shrill nagging. Could it really be possible they had worked together for so long Meta simply got used to it and it turned into background noise? Was that what the “blessed silence” was about? Rapture finally shut up for five minutes and it kinda scared Meta? Now that I thought about it, her voice hadn’t been at all the tired-of-this-crap bitchy tone, but all, like, soft and full of wonder. It was almost… I dunno, endearing? That someone who pretended to be such a tough gal could go deredere from something so simple as silence? Was Meta secretly a tsundere? I wonder if she watches anime? Oh, Rapture had actually quieted down at some point. Am I already so used to her nagging it turned into background noise? Crap, and she’s looking at me so expectantly, too. She wants an answer. I panic so I shrug, and go to making breakfast much noisier than needed, both to get Rapture off my back and wake up Meta. And surprisingly enough, I achieve both goals! Rapture is for some reason more interested in my cooking than harassing me for an answer, and Meta stirs soon enough, and for once looks pretty content. Well, at least for a full five seconds, then she notices Rapture and her face sours right back into Warheads territory. Rapture’s gown has a definite blue undertone this morning, and I’m pretty sure her hair is also curlier than yesterday. And of course I saw her removing her wings yesterday, so clearly angels can change their appearance at will, and Rapture does it as both emphasis and whim. Meta, on the other hand, looks exactly the same as yesterday, I don’t think even her hair part has moved a single millimeter. Why would she choose to look so plain? I’m really lucky for my natural good looks so I don’t actually need to use much makeup, but miss Asuka here could look like anything she wants, literally just by wanting! She could be a hundred times more beautiful than me equipped with all the makeup skills in the universe! Rapture sits next to me at the table, while Meta stays on the couch. She’s still technically at the table, since it’s pushed against the back of couch. There’s not enough room in my place to separate the furniture by much. I wouldn’t even bother with a table if I didn’t need a surface to sew on. Doing it on the floor was a massive pain for the two weeks I tried to endure. As Rapture watches me eat in keen attention, I start feeling rude for not offering them anything. I doubt angels need to eat - but then again, I never expected they could be plain, bitchy lesbians. “Do angels need to eat? ‘Cause I can make you guys something if you’re hungry.” “We are beings of pure energy, and as such are incapable of consuming anything material”, Rapture says proudly, still staring at me chewing. Careful there, you could make a girl self-conscious. “Doesn’t mean we can’t still like eating”, Meta quips, not even fully facing me. I’m hoping it’s because then she would also have to see Rapture, and not because she’s an ass. “Well, I have tea, coffee, eggs, bread, um, not really much else… The selection's not great, but it's there if you’d like something.” “Nah, I only like smokes.” Figures. On the plus side, now I don’t need to waste my depleting reserves on someone this rude. Rapture also declines, because she finds consuming food disgusting. I don’t get it, but hey, I’m not a being of pure energy. Rapture takes in a breath and turns to Meta, who immediately announces she’s going to get some damn smokes already. I can’t say I really blame her, Rapture was obviously right about to start another rant. Still, if she starts smoking inside, I’ll have to take McNaggety’s side. Surprisingly enough, Rapture makes no move to follow her. She just sighs deep and frowns slightly. “...The material might do nothing for us physically, but the psychological effects can be great.” “So, you’re saying Meta is addicted to nicotine?” Now that’s a weird thought. An angel, addicted to a substance of vice! Ha! “No, to the placebo calming effect”, Rapture specifies. “She has simply decided smoking is calming, and now her psyche reacts to cigarettes that way.” She doesn’t even look all that angry. I get the impression Rapture actually likes Meta a bit and lashes out because she’s tired of seeing her ruin her own life. “There are times when I worry about her greatly, it is not good for a Heavenly creature to rely on Earthly materials. And she is a chain smoker.” Yeah, she actually does sound worried. I had her pegged as the can-only-feel-mad-at-lesser-beings-type, but maybe they’re both tsundere? “Wonder what she’s so stressed about.” “I would not know. She has been like that since before she came to my employ.” “And how long have you worked together?” And there goes all the worry right out the window. Rapture scoffs like I asked the most ridiculous question in the world with the most obvious answer in existence, and assumed she didn’t know it. “Together? She is my underling. She works for me, not with me.” Yup, that settles it, Rapture is just a dick who can’t think of others as sentient beings. Meta doesn’t seem like the ideal employee, I’ll give her that, or even a conventional angel, but she still has feelings and worth. “And to answer your question, she has worked for me for 57 years.” I suddenly have less desire to interact with her than a puddle of vomit, so I quietly down the last of my porridge. I wanna complain to Saida, but with the disaster of Meta cursing out Ricky yesterday, I don’t feel like introducing those two firecrackers to each other. And I’m not pathetic enough for vaguebooking, so suffering alone it is. Checking emails - nothing about the lecture materials being fixed yet, facebook – the same old clickbait articles as yesterday, class whatsapp – 200+ new messages, last one from yesterday about Ellie’s party tomorrow, tumblr – not touching that with an angel of the Lord looming over my shoulder…

About ten minutes into 9gag Meta comes back in the front door, visibly calmer and smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. Rapture said they’re completely incorporeal, but then shouldn’t the smell not linger? Maybe their bodies are just a teeny tiny percentage physical? As I scrunch up my nose, Meta realizes this and actually apologizes for the smell. Guess she really needed those smokes, huh. There might even be a decent person somewhere inside that smelly old curmudgeon. But back to that physicality question. “Can you feel touch?” I ask. “Or, more like, can you be touched at all? If you’re not physical, I mean.” “We can be touched, sure, because the more power an angel has the more corporeal their body has to be”, Meta explains without a hint of condescension. She becomes thoughtful, and crosses her hands. “But we have no nervous system, our psyche has to consciously create the feeling. Most of us have no interest in creating autonomous sensations, ‘cause it takes a lot of effort for not much gain, but it is possible.” “That’s pretty interesting.” She smiles sadly, and I’m thrown off track. She really goddamn needed those smokes. “For humans, I guess. I might be the only angel to ever use it.” But then Rapture scoffs loudly and Meta remembers who else is in the room, and the moment is gone. She glares at her with poison daggers in her eyes, basically challenging her boss to just say something, motherfucker. Trying to defuse the bomb, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “That’s pretty cool, you can’t get hurt accidentally!” And it works. Rapture proudly announces she has never been hurt, because she never imagined what it feels like, and Meta simmers down to thoughtfully stroke her palm with a thumb.

--

Both angels have a reason for why they act the way they do. Whether they’re good reasons or not is another matter entirely.

#ApocalypseIn50 #ApocalypseUniverse #Ally #Meta #Rapture #wiptale #linssioriginals #original fiction