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JJ MAYBANK in OUTER BANKS | 2.05 THE DARKEST HOUR
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uglypastels · 3 years
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To the Beat // drummer!Tom 1/2
(a/n) here it is!!! it took about a decade of my life but i think it was worth it  also shoutout to @duskholland​ for hearing out my ideas when i was brainstorming and together with @captainpeggy40​  for getting me through my breakdowns while writing. i got it finished!! <3 I really went all out with this fic, so i hope you guys enjoy it!! part 2 will come... sometime this week ;)
word count: 7939 (unnecessary content GALORE) 
warning: drinking, swearing, crowded spaces, part 2 contains smut 
you can find the band’s setlist here
not all songs are mentioned in the fic but it’s songs that i would really love to see them play haha. if anyone would be interested, i can make a seperate post on how i imagine them playing it (who sings and stuff idk)
Read part 2 here <---> extra headcanons here
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With the right stranger, one night can feel like a lifetime.
“Will you please come?” your friend begged you over the phone. “It’s gonna be really fun!” 
“You know, you say that a lot, yet I never have as much fun as you promise.” You sat down on your bed, looking out the window as the rain hit every surface outside. It was not exactly the weather you felt like going out in. 
“Then that’s on your extremely high expectations, not on me.” She stated, “But pleeease.” She kept on whining, and you knew she wouldn’t stop until you gave in. It always went like this. Always. 
“Ugh, fine.” you fell back on the soft mattress, your head only missing the pillow by an inch. “Where is it actually?” There was the question you both dreaded. You, because you knew you wouldn’t like the answer. Her, because she knew you wouldn’t either. 
“It’s at Suki’s,” she mumbled, but you could still hear her just fine. 
“That’s where you work right- please don’t tell me you’re working tonight?!” you groaned into the phone. 
“I am, but I’ll be done around 9.30 I think, so there’s still plenty of time for us to hang out! Besides, you already said yes, and NO TAKE BACKSIES!” she said this all extremely fast and screamed the last two words into your ear. Then, on top of that, hung up as soon as she finished, not giving you even a second to fight back. Not sure what happened, you stared at the black screen of your phone in confusion. 
She said the concert started at nine o’clock. Did she really expect you to go to this thing and spend half an hour by yourself? Or did she want you to sit at the bar while she poured drinks for everyone? Either way, none of those options felt appealing. For a solid minute, you contemplated just not going, just… not showing up. Turning off your phone and watching a movie or something at home. 
But at the same time, you hadn’t left the house for a long time. And it was Friday night. Why not go out and see some obscure little band. What was their name again? Your friend had mentioned it, but you already forgot. Maybe it was for the better too. That way, you couldn’t look them up beforehand, and if they were shit, you would just find out there and not have another thing to be dreading as you got ready. Or maybe they would be good. Then it would be a pleasant surprise on the spot. 
You checked the time. 7:27pm. That gave you about an hour to get ready and then some time to actually get to the bar. Should be doable. 
So, you hopped in the shower to get all fresh again. Even if it would all get ruined later on in the night by standing in a sweaty crowd. It’s the effort to look presentable that counts. Then, you picked out an outfit that would be comfortable in the before mentioned crowd. You could never go wrong with the simple jeans and a t-shirt combo. 
Looking in the mirror, the thought of Not Going popped up in your mind again. There was nothing really obliging you to go. And the idea of standing there listening to the loud music, whether it was good or not, sounded slightly exhausting. 
No, you reminded yourself, it would do you good to leave the house once in a while. Have “fun”. You checked the time once more, 8:14. You had done everything a bit quicker than you expected. The Uber you had arranged for yourself would be there in a few minutes. So, you were stuck in that kind of waiting limbo, sitting on your couch, not sure what to do. Eventually, you put on your shoes and got your keys and were ready to head out. 
The drive was quick and thankfully, mostly quiet. It was only a minute or two before you reached your destination that the driver decided to ask you where you were headed. 
“Concert,” you said hesitantly. Why did these people always want to know your business? Thankfully, the man didn’t ask much more. And then it was time for you to get out of the car. The drive actually took much less time than you had expected and there was still some time left before the band would start to perform. 
Suki’s was a bar downtown, in the basement of some kind of law firm. Their whole thing was that they let new bands and artists play each week so they could get some of the public’s interest going. Make themselves known to the world. It was literally and figuratively, an underground following that it had. Many, but at the same time, nobody knew about it. It was a secret amongst music lovers. Considering the bar wanted to stay its own secret, you never understood the bright neon lights above the entrance, going down the staircase all the way to the actual hall. 
The bar itself wasn’t too big. Enough space for a small stage along one wall, a bar on the opposite side, and the rest was space for the crowd to either enjoy or hate the music being played. When you walked in the room was still relatively empty. You saw two guys setting up equipment on stage, you assumed it was the band. Behind them was a black banner with “Winter Solstice” written in scratchy white letters. Between the words, a star that was drawn on in precisely the same rough manner. You had to admit, it was a cool name. 
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Considering there weren’t many people there yet, you headed for the bar to get yourself a drink before it would be too crowded to even reach the counter. And there stood your friend, behind the bar talking to some guy. They were both laughing at something as you walked up. 
“y/n! You came!” you squealed out, “what can I get ya?” 
“A beer?” you said it more like a question. 
“Coming right up.” And with that, your friend walked off to the tap to pour you your drink. It was more out of reflex when you sat down on the stool, you leaned your head on your hand, but you understood the question from the stranger when he spoke up. 
“Not looking forward to it?”
Still with your chin on your knuckles, you turned to face him. 
“Huh? Oh no, I mean… she kind of made me come here, but-” you tried not to sound too pessimistic, but the guy saw right through you.
“So, I guess the answer is yes.” He chuckled. Right then, your friend came holding your drink and put it in front of you. 
“I’ll put it on your tap.” She was going to join the conversation but right then a group of tonight’s spectators walked up in need of drinks, so she was soon off again. 
“I’m not not looking forward to it?” nothing in your voice made it sound like you were sure of yourself, but it was enough for him. You took a sip of your beer, which you could feel helping the situation. While doing that you looked over the brim of the tall glass to look at your conversation partner. Like you, he was drinking a beer himself and considering it was almost empty, he had done that either very fast, or he had been there for a while already. 
Next, you took a look at him. From the profile, he looked pretty good. He was wearing a loose tank, showing off his arms. His dark curly hair was held back with a black cap that he wore backwards. What definitely stood out to you was his jawline. It looked like you could cut yourself on it just with the slightest of touches. For everyone’s sake, you quickly turned your gaze over to the extensive liquor collection in front of you. But you could see in the reflection behind the bottles how he was smiling to himself. He definitely saw you stare. This was awkward, and you only got here two minutes ago.
“So, do you know the band?” you asked in the hopes to weed out this weird situation you had created. For some reason, your question made him smile. In that type of way as if you had just mentioned an inside joke. Except you weren’t in on it, so you couldn’t laugh along. 
“Yeah, they’re alright.” He shrugged. Then, as if he suddenly remembered something, he shot up straight in his seat. “I’m Tom, by the way.” 
“y/n.” Then you remembered how your friend practically screamed out your name when you walked in, “but you already knew that.” Your phone vibrated with a text, so you took it out and immediately saw the time, it was already past nine. You looked over at the stage where the two guys were trying to untangle some chords. Clearly, it wasn’t starting anytime soon. 
“What kind of music do they play?” You asked Tom while still looking at the band trying to get ready. 
“A bit of everything, I suppose.” 
You bit your cheek not to say anything that might come off rude, but he could still read you. 
“I guess that wasn’t the right answer?” He raised an eyebrow. 
“I just hoped to get something more specific, but as long as they’re good, I’ll enjoy it.” You took another sip of your beer as an excuse to shut up. He must think you’re such a bitch at this point. You saw him glance over your shoulder at the stage and then smile at you. 
“I like you.” there was that chuckle of his again, “I’ll see you later, then.” And he got up. You were gonna ask why later? Why couldn’t you hang out now? You didn’t like to admit it, but you enjoyed his company, even though it was only brief and most of the time you spent it making yourself look like a moron. As superficial it made you sound, you simply enjoyed the presents of a good looking guy like him.
You were going to ask him, but he quickly disappeared into the crowd that started to form along the foot of the stage. More and more people were coming and joining in. The two guys from the band had finally untangled their chords and were placing their guitars over their shoulders, and plugged them into the amplifiers. That’s when you noticed that a spot was empty on the stage. The big drum set had no occupant yet. 
So, while everyone waited for the drummer to show up, you took this time to look at the other two band members, trying to decide which one was the cuter one. 
That turned out to be slightly more difficult of a task, you quickly realised. Though they were both very different, they were both also extremely good looking. There was the blonde, strumming a few simple chords on his guitar to warm up. Even in the dim light, you could see how perfectly chiselled his face was. He was wearing a slightly oversized button-up shirt with about half of the buttons open. The skinny jeans didn’t seem comfortable to you, but he made them work. The rings on his fingers reflected in the lights as he kept on strumming. 
The other had a bit more of a playful vibe around him. His curly mop of hair bounced with every move he made. You could hear his loud and contagious laugh all the way from the other side of the room without the need for a microphone. His outfit was something completely different compared to the blonde. It consisted of a baggy t-shirt (that you could read the band logo on), with ripped dungarees that were only attached on one side. He had rolled them up, showing off his bright converse. His bass guitar was currently hanging behind his back as he adjusted the mic stand one last time. There was something familiar about him, though you were sure had never seen him before. 
Then finally, a third person joined them. People cheered since it meant that they could finally start playing. You tried to get a good look at him before he hid behind the drum set. Hair was hiding beneath a cap, tank top… wait… was it-
You got up and walked through the audience. There weren’t that many people, so it was reasonably easy to get to the front. Or, almost at the front row, standing right in front of them felt a bit intimidating. Now you could see all three of them much better, and there was no denying it. Your new acquaintance Tom was the drummer. And when you looked over at the curly bassist again, you realised why he looked so familiar. It was not an identical resemblance, but there was enough that made you think they were related somehow. 
You watched Tom spin one of his drumsticks in his hand. He had the biggest smile on his face, then he caught your eye and winked. The cheeky bastard knew exactly what he was doing, you were sure of it. He was waiting for your surprised reaction, and you fell for it completely—hook, line and sinker. 
The curly one got up to his microphone. “Hey everybody, we’re Winter Solstice,” his voice was much deeper than you had expected. Especially, considering that he actually looked younger than the other two, you noticed. “We thought you’d appreciate some more known songs tonight, so join in whenever.” 
Alright, they were gonna do covers. That was not a wrong move at all. A lot of bands want to show off their own music, but most of the time that leaves the audience just swaying awkwardly because they don’t know the lyrics or what to expect. 
“Here’s one you all should know.” 
The blonde started playing his guitar, and it only took a second or two before everyone realised what song it was. Mr Brightside. It sounded a bit different, as their attempt to make the song their own, but the riff was unmistakably Mr Brightside. Everyone around you immediately cheered and started to dance along, waiting to sing the lyrics. You were too, of course, but all you could think about was Tom playing in the back. He looked so focused, but still didn’t let it sit in the way of enjoying the song. 
In the song, the drums probably only started a beat before the lyrics, so you missed out on the first few words, but quickly you were singing too. 
“But she’s touching his chest now, he takes off her dress now. Let me gooo,” the blonde guitarist sang. His voice wasn’t perfect, it was rough, some might have called it cursive, but in that right sort of way. It fit well with the rest of the band and how they played. In just a minute, they had gotten the entire room hyped up. Everyone was into it. Maybe it was because of the song choice, but you doubted it. A song like that can be tricky to sing to a new crowd. If you screwed it up, they’d hate you forever.  
That was definitely not the case here, they had the crowd in the palms of their hands. With each beat, you were pulled in…or, was that just you? 
The second verse started, and it was the bassist that began to sing: “I'm coming out of my cage, and I've been doing just fine-” There was no clear description of his voice. At least you couldn’t really pinpoint it. There was definitely that playfulness in it that he had been showing through everything he did. He couldn’t stay still, jumping in place, making his curls bump up and down as he went. 
“It was only a kiss” 
It was Tom that said the little interjection in the song. You had only looked his way at the end, while the other was already singing, but you felt as if he had been looking at you directly. No, he wasn’t. Why would he? You shook the thought off and continued enjoying the performance of the three men. You sang along just like everyone else. 
And then the song ended. It was almost unbelievable that it had only been one song that they played, but they moved on to the next quickly. 
The guitar faded out but came straight back, accompanied by a heavy bass line. Some people around you recognised the melody, but it took you a moment or two. Then it went quiet. The blonde leaned into his microphone, whispering the words. 
“I’m the invisible man,” guitar riff “I’m the invisible man,” guitar, “Incredible how you can- see right through me!” His voice got louder as Tom joined in with the drums. Then those few seconds of bass followed which actually sent shivers up your spine. To put it simply, you were a sucker for good bass and beat. But what was it about them that sounded so good? You couldn’t think of anything particular that would have set them apart from all the other artists you had seen perform in the club through the years… 
Still, seeing them have so much fun on stage, it was truly intoxicating, you wanted to join them. You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen someone jump around on that little stage while playing bass. You couldn’t wait to find out what their names were, but for now, “the curly bassist” didn’t take a second to stand still. The only time he stood in one spot was when he had to sing, and even then he moved around a lot. 
The others didn’t have that same luxury. Of course, Tom did not have a lot of options, sitting behind his drum set. Yet still, he managed to light up the stage with his bright smile and the passion he put into his drumming. Any time you looked at him, you didn’t want to look away- which was hard, considering that the other two were also a great joy to watch. 
The blonde, in his turn, stayed on his side of the stage, being somewhat stuck with his microphone since he had the most vocals. But he still had a great connection with the audience, you felt like. 
Before you knew it, the second song had also come to an end. Cheers and applause erupted in front of the band, with you contributing to it as well, of course. 
“Thank you, thank you,” the bassist took a little bow. Even though they weren’t playing any song, he still slapped one of the strings mindlessly. “Like I said, we’re Winter Solstice. My name’s Harry.” He introduced himself. Finally, you could call him something else than the curly bassist. Even though it was a very catchy nickname, you thought yourself. 
“Here on the guitar,” Harry pointed out, “Is my good friend Harrison.” Harrison waved to the crowd, receiving screams from the audience as if it was filled with banshees. 
“In the back,” Tom immediately started a soft drum roll, but Harry didn’t wait that long, “that’s Tom.” Tom reacted with a face that could only be described as “bruh”, making several people around you laugh. You wondered if it was rehearsed or if this was just how they were. Either way, it was cute. 
Harry talked some more about how they were excited to play tonight, but you were looking at Tom. You watched him grab a water bottle and drink half of it in almost one chug. When he pulled it away from his mouth, you saw that he caught you staring. Even though you were between dozens of people, even though the light that was shining in his face- he saw you. And he winked again. In the next moment, you had to think if the heat burning through your body was an effect of that little gesture or because of how warm it was in the room. For your own sake, you went with the second option. 
“Alright, here’s another song for you all,” it was a voice you hadn’t heard speak before. Harrison. “Here’s: You Oughta Know.” There was a mixed reaction from the audience, including you. Of course, you knew the Alanis Morisette song, but you had never heard it be played by men.  It was definitely an interesting choice for them to play, especially after the Killers and Queen. 
“I want you to know that I am happy for you,” it was Tom that started singing, as he drummed softly. You tried to control your thoughts as he kept on singing. Then the pre-chorus began, and you were shocked at how well they harmonised. 
“Cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able to make it enough for you to be open wide.” It actually gave you chills. How were you so excited about listening to three strangers sing? 
At the chorus itself, everyone in the room went wild, singing along loudly. It was clear that the people were sold on this new version of the song. It was all fine. You were enjoying the show. It was actually fun. And then, Tom sang the next line- 
“It was a slap in the face. How quickly I was replaced. And are you thinking of me when you fuck her?” It sure was a slap in the face. You had to remind yourself that it was just the lyrics of the song. And he was just a guy on stage that you had only exchanged a few words with prior. Yet, you couldn’t focus on anything from that moment on. You could barely comprehend their version of “Are You Gonna Be My Girl”, not even really understanding that they were playing a different song. It was just a big blur. But maybe it was for the better, because could you really cope with Tom singing the titular phrase of the song in that husky way that he did... debatable. 
When you woke up from your daze, Tom had stood up to show the crowd the beat to clap to. You joined in before anyone noticed how far out of it you indeed were. Harrison finished the song off with a falsetto and then it was already time for the next song. 
This time you knew what to do. You wanted to record at least some part of the show. And when harry started a bass solo, you made sure to get at least a bit of it and continued filming from there, ready to post it on your Instagram later on. Harrison joined in with the guitar, and you actually had no idea what song they were playing. More people didn’t seem to recognise the song immediately, which visibly amused the musicians. They couldn’t hide their grins even behind the microphones. Once again, the harmonies… how did they sound so good? 
As the song continued, the more sure you were that you had heard it before, but it must have been very different from the original. No, actually… How did you not recognise Dua Lipa? It was not hard to forget about the original when you got to listen to this version. How had each song so far been this good, you still didn’t understand. You didn’t want it to end. 
But unfortunately, right after that, they took another break from singing. 
“Alright!” Harrison cheered (more squeals from his side of the audience followed. Apparently he had started to gain quite the following). “The next song is another classic, I like to think.” People whooed. “So we’d like some help from you guys if that’s okay.” The crowd seemed to be into it, so Tom followed with the instructions. 
“Okay, so we’re gonna start playing in a sec, and Harry will sing a little melody. Just copy that, and we’ll be on our way.” In the meantime, Harry had gone off stage to grab a bottle of water, so everyone had to wait for a second. This gave Tom the opportunity to freestyle on his drum set. It was a simple beat, but it progressed into a more complex set. He, however, did it effortlessly. 
Finally, Harry came back running, he threw bottles to the other two, which they both caught without a problem. Tom started to press the bass drum steadily, layering more on top of it. Then Harry joined with the bass, and ultimately, Harrison’s guitar finished it off. Harry leaned into the microphone. 
“Ooooo-ooo-oo-oo, ooooo-ooo-oo-oo, oooo-oo-oo,” he almost whistled, but not quite. He continued a few times, together with Tom and Harrison until everyone in the room was singing along. Then made that kind of gesture to show you had to stop. Harrison sang the verse. Anytime it was your turn, you’d just follow Harry. 
You had been to many concerts, but not many new bands had much luck in getting a full crowd to participate in the song. But by the way they played, everyone just wished they could be in the band, playing along with them. Even if it was just dangling the triangle. You, however, didn’t want that, necessarily. You assumed that it was the fact that you hadn’t been out of the house in so long, that now that you had the chance, everything felt hundred times more great. So a concert that was already amazing, suddenly felt like a euphoric, once in a lifetime, experience… though that might go a bit too far. And it for sure helped that all three band members were hot. Like, really really hot. 
Literally, too, the room was getting really warm at this point, and the guys were visibly hot also. It didn’t stop them from performing at 110% though. A few songs more passed by and Harry was still jumping around the stage. Harrison sang every note perfectly as he slew that guitar of his and Tom… 
You could barely look at Tom. Playing the drums as hectically (in the good sense) as he did, you thought he would be exhausted by now. But he still had that big perfect smile on his face. The sweat was dripping down his arms, but it just highlighted his biceps, making it very hard for you to concentrate on the music. And then, no matter what he was doing, he would find you in the crowd and smirk or wink, making you even more flustered than you were before. The first time, you thought he was doing it to someone else. But then it happened again, and again. And the beat of drums led your heart. You could feel it in your throat as it kept pumping with the loud music. 
It was during their little break which they used to goof around and play the intro of “Chelsea Dagger”, that you decided to go back to the bar. Your friend had said she wouldn’t leave you alone for the entirety of the concert, but you were already quite some songs in and there was still no sign of her. And you quickly realised why that was. Since the show had started, the entire room had filled up with people. You had never seen it be so crowded, in fact. And then the bar was packed with people asking for their drinks. 
Your friend was indeed there, with another bartender, doing her best to pour the drinks quickly. But more and more people got thirsty, so it was easy to assume you would have to spend the rest of the night alone as well.
By that time, the band started on the next song of their setlist, and you really thought they were playing one big joke on you. Or at least this Tom guy was. As he loudly sang Sex on Fire, by Kings of Leon, you decided to sit this one song out from the front row and stay back, near the bar. It actually did you well, because it was much less hot than upfront. You could just stay there for the rest of the show. They had been through around ten songs already, so they must be done soon, either way, you thought. 
And you were right. Ending with Come Together, the applause was bigger than through the entire night. The boys finished with extended solo’s of their respective instruments and a bow, and it was really over. Harry came up to the microphone one last time as the other two were already getting off stage. 
“Thank you! We are Winter Solstice! Buy our merch at the door! GOODNIGHT!” 
The idea of buying a t-shirt was pretty fun. And apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought that. Far from it, actually, The line at the little merch booth quickly exceeded the length of the small concert hall. You wondered if they even had enough things to sell. Would it even be worth it to stand in line? You just waited for the stream of new fans to cool down.
Eventually, it did. Slowly, but surely, the line got shorter. You also noticed that there were a few people that had the exact same idea as you had, so you joined the queue before the rest could. You didn’t even have to wait that long. Before you knew it, you were standing at the little table. There were piles of t-shirts and cd’s, and there were more boxes behind the table too. They really came prepared. Harrison had just been folding up an empty box when you walked up. 
“Hi. Can I get a (your size)” you asked, already pulling out your card to pay, “and a CD?” 
“Yeah, of course,” Harry grabbed a shirt for you with a smile. Tom had been talking to the girl that had been in line in front of you, but he quickly turned to look at you when he heard your voice. 
“y/n!” He finished the conversation with the other girl before moving over to join his bandmate. 
“Hey,” you wish it hadn’t been so, but a lot changed since the first time you spoke to him, let it only have been about an hour. There was something about him being in the band you just watched perform and buying his merch, that made you feel like a little school girl standing next to him. 
“I thought you had left.” He noticed you leave? Not the point. 
“No, I just went to the back. It was getting a bit hot for me upfront.” 
“Ah,” he nodded. “Did you enjoy the show then?” 
“Yes!” you said, a bit too loud, “You guys were great.” You looked at the CD that Harry had just handed you and smiled. “And I was wondering if you could maybe sign this for me?” Out of nowhere, Harrison appeared behind Tom, grabbing the CD from your hands and putting his signature right at the centre of the packaging. Just as quickly as he appeared, he went back to whatever he was doing before. But not without sending you a wink first. What was it with these guys and winking? Not that you really minded it. 
Harry took the slightly more polite approach, waiting for you to hand him the CD and he signed it above Harrison’s signature. Then he handed it over, together with the marker, to Tom. 
“So, we got ourselves a number one fan, huh?” 
“No, I’ll just wait ‘til you guys get famous so I can sell it on the internet and get rich.” That was probably not the response Tom had expected, which you immensely enjoyed. Next to him, Harry erupted in a fit of laughter. 
“Haz, did you hear that? She thinks we’ll be famous.” His laugh was even better close up. While Harry and Harrison kept on laughing, you used the moment to speak to Tom, one on one. 
“So why didn’t you tell me you were in the band?” you asked. 
“What does it matter,” he chuckled.
“You let me ask all those questions about the band, it’s fucking embarrassing, man.” you couldn’t help but laugh yourself. 
“Heh, sorry.” he took off his cap to rearrange his hair since some of it had fallen in his eyes through the night. You didn’t know what else to say, so the conversation died down. Then you remembered that there was still a bit of a line behind you of people that wanted to buy the merch as well. 
“Let me just pay for these, and I’ll be off.” 
“No, it’s fine, on the house,” Tom said. You looked at him with wide eyes. 
“Are you sure? It’s really no problem.” 
“Yeah, just promise me one thing.” 
“What?” You raised an eyebrow, not sure what to expect. You didn’t want to jump onto that wagon too quickly. 
“Will you stay? I’d really like to hang out.” 
You weren’t sure what to answer at first. You did want to stay and talk to him, but it was getting late, and you had been standing for a long time, and you were kinda gross from how warm it was during the concert… but Tom was really hot. And he asked so nicely. 
“Sure.” you gave in. “I’ll hang out with my friend at the bar and let ya get back to-” you pointed around the table to make your point across. He nodded and waved you goodbye as you walked away, clutching on to your newly bought merchandise.
Just like you thought, your friend was indeed still at the bar, cleaning up leftover glasses from the counter. She saw you walk over and you could tell she saw something different in you. 
“Look at you beaming, girl! What happened?” she put away the half-dried glass to listen to you. 
“Nothing?” you said casually. She saw right through you though, so you just decided to give up the little act. “Tom asked me to wait behind for him.” You bit your lip, expecting to get a lecture from her. But none of that happened. Instead, she squealed out in, what seemed like, excitement. 
“Ooh, Tom is such a great guy!” 
“You know him?” you asked, surprised. 
“Well, he was the one that got their band the gig here, so we talked here and there, mostly planning,” she explained. “And I mean, look at him.” she sighed and her eyes glazed over a bit when she looked in the direction of the merch table. Not sure what else to do, you followed her action and glanced over. Of course, right at that time, Tom decided to look in your direction as well. He smiled and waved lightly, making your cheeks heat up and quickly look away. Your friend, however, waved back enthusiastically. 
“So you think it’s safe for me-” what were you even gonna ask her? 
“Go have fun, I say. But if anything does happen, remember the codeword?” Her tone changed to a more serious one, which you appreciated. You had agreed ages ago on a codeword to use. In case a date turned for the worst, or generally if something felt off. 
“Broccoli, baby. I know.” 
“Broccoli.” She held up her hand for a high five, which you gladly accepted. 
You chatted for a little bit longer. Every few minutes tho, you’d be sure to glance over your shoulder to see if the merch line was getting any shorter. It didn’t seem like it. There was simply no end to it. You felt yourself getting frustrated. To the point that your friend actually pointed it out, snorting from holding in her laughter. 
“He has got you whipped, hasn’t he?” she bumped your shoulder playfully. All you did was roll your eyes. Which, actually, said everything she needed to know. He did, didn’t he? You always had a soft spot for musicians, dated a few. But comparing them to Tom now… it felt like a joke. There was something about this guy that made you want to know more about him. You wanted to see him play and sing again. You wanted- do a lot of things. But you had to get that out of your head. Let the night speak for itself, see where it leads you. If it would be his bedroom… that would be fine. Just fine. 
You knew you were crazy for thinking all of this, but a girl can dream, right? 
You looked across the room and were glad to see that there were only a few people left. Harry had already started packing everything up that would most likely not be sold that night. You watched the three of them make some small chat with the people walking by, but all your real focus was on Tom and his deep stare right at you. It made your heart beat faster. With his arms across his chest, the muscles seemed even more prominent. 
He was suddenly pulled back into the conversation, and it was as if he changed into a different person. All bubbly, none of that- what even was it that he looked at you? You decided to not think about it too much. One does not do well when dwelling about anything. 
Finally, the last person bought their shirt, and they were done. Hoping it didn’t make you look too desperate, you didn’t waste a second to walk over to them. Harrison and Tom were helping Harry pack up the rest of the things that were left on the table. 
“Hey,” you said awkwardly. Tom almost dropped the stack of shirts he was holding. Again, the attention fell to his arms. You had to force yourself to look up at his face, which didn’t help much either, but it made it easier to think thoughts that would not mean a one-way ticket to Hell. 
“Hi! I’m so glad you stayed,” he said after putting those shirts in the box. “I thought we could go grab something to eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” He spoke really fast, just showing how excited he was to talk to you again. To be honest, you weren’t necessarily hungry, but going out to eat with Tom didn’t sound too bad. 
“Don’t you have to pack up?” You pointed back to the stage that still counted all of their equipment. 
“No, we’re playing here tomorrow, again,” Harrison explained. 
“Oh, cool.” Was all you said. It was cool, you just didn’t know how to say anything without sounding dumb. 
“Well, shall we? There’s a diner on the way to my flat. It has the best burgers.” Tom exclaimed. You ignored the little mention of his apartment and focused on the burgers. He wasn’t suggesting for you to come over to his place. It was just a fact… right? 
“Lead the way,” you told him, but before you left, you turned to the other two members of Winter Solstice. “It was nice meeting you guys.” Everyone waved, and so on, and you were off to eat. 
It was almost midnight by the time you got there, but the diner Tom had mentioned did advertise as a 24/7. And it held up. When you walked in, you were practically hit in the face with the delicious smell of pie. You sat down in a booth next to the large window and very soon after a waitress walked up. 
“What can I get ya?” she asked, flipping her little notebook open.  
“I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries, thanks,” Tom asked. Then it was your turn. 
“Just large fries for me, thank you.” The waitress wrote it all down, then continued to ask if you wanted anything to drink. 
“Ooh, do you have milkshakes?” The woman smiled and nodded. “So a chocolate milkshake then.” You ordered. 
“Make it two,” Tom added. Then the waitress went off, Tom leaned on the table toward you, with his hands in front of him. “So, just fries, huh?”
“I’m not super hungry, and I wasn’t going to steal your fries,” you explained, making Tom laugh and shake his head. 
“You’re interesting, you know that?” 
“I like to think so, yeah,” you answered straightforwardly. It was a pity you had not gotten your drinks yet, or you would have taken a very nonchalant sip. You leaned your chin on your hand, just like you did at the bar before the show. Except for this time, there was a smile hiking up the corners of your mouth. Tom mirrored your position. 
“So how did you guys come up with the name?” you had been wondering that ever since you saw that banner hanging on the stage. It was always interesting to find out the thinking process like. 
“You gotta ask Harry, he came up with it one day, and we just went along. He’s the more artistic one of the bunch.” Of course he is. Well, that didn’t answer anything then. But another question popped up in your mind.
“Are you guys related?” 
Tom smiled at that question. “Yeah, Harry is my younger brother. Harrison has been my best mate ever since I can remember. We’ve always been close and messing around. Then one day we decided to grab some old instruments from the attic and- sorry, I’m probably boring you, aren’t I?” He took off his cap again and ruffled his hair. You thought he would put it back on, but he left it on the table. There was pretty good lighting at Suki’s, but the colourful spotlights were no match to the bright LEDs of the diner. 
“I don’t see how you thought that was boring,” you assured him. You truly enjoyed his little story, talking about his friend and brother. You had doubted the choice of going out to eat so late at night with a stranger, but now the reason was apparent. He didn’t want to be strangers-he wanted to get to know you. And you wanted to get to know him.
The waitress came back with two large milkshakes, topped with whipped cream and syrup. She said that the food would be ready in a few more minutes and left you to continue your conversation. You nudged Tom on to go on where he stopped previously. 
 “So yeah,” he cleared his throat, “we played and thought, hey that doesn’t sound shit, and we practised for a few months and decided some time ago, why not try and play.”
“Was this your first gig?” you asked in disbelief. He shook his head, though. 
“We’ve performed a few times, but this was the first one that felt… real, you know. Maybe it was just me, but I felt this great connection with the crowd, and it felt great.” You nodded along with every word, without realising that you had been getting lost in his eyes. He had been looking into yours as he spoke about that connection, and it made you feel that maybe, just maybe, he meant you specifically. 
“y/n?” He eventually asked, waking you up. You almost spilt your milkshake from the abrupt movement you made as you tried to sit up.
“What? Sorry.” You held the glass until it didn’t shake. 
“I asked if you enjoyed it? The show?” 
“Didn’t you ask that already?” Stupid way to answer! “But yeah, I loved it. You were really great- I mean, all of you.” but especially you, you wanted to add on, but that felt like going too far. As you were trying to come up with a normal-sounding answer there, Tom sipped from his milkshake. Something in his eyes told you that he could tell what you wanted to say, and that thought scared you a little bit. All you wanted to do was to give this hot guy a good impression of yourself, was that really that hard? 
But he didn’t say anything about it. Just continued the conversation as you hoped he would.
“Well, I’m glad. Honestly, you had scared me a bit back then, when you left,” he admitted. And there were the heart palpitations again, beating faster and faster. You grabbed the cold milkshake because you could feel yourself getting hotter. 
“How so?” you choked out. 
“Just because I could tell you weren’t exactly looking forward to the show, and then I saw you leave and didn’t come back. I thought you didn’t like us.” Us. He said “us”. Then we did it feel like he just wanted to say “me”? 
“I wanted to check up on my friend, and then I realised that it was much colder in the back, so I stayed there.” you explained again, “But why be worried about me, there were plenty of other people enjoying themselves.” 
He was about to answer when the waitress walked up with two large plates. She put them on the table with a smile, which you noticed was more directed towards Tom than you. He responded with a tight smile himself, but only shortly, turning back to you quickly to respond to your question. 
“No one there was as cute as you.” 
“What?” This time you made sure not to make any sudden movements to save your food and drink on the table. Did he really say that? But he didn’t clarify himself, he just smirked, enjoying your flushed expression a little too much. He put a fry in his mouth and still ate it with that smug smirk. You just went and ate some of your own fries, avoiding eye contact with him. You just needed a second to sort your thoughts. 
That second lasted a little longer, but at least you had the food to use as an excuse to avoid “awkward silence”. 
“So do you play any instruments?” he asked. You looked up to see that he had almost finished his burger. When you saw the dish being brought up, you thanked yourself and any god watching out there that you didn’t choose to order one. It was absolutely massive, meaning you would make a complete mess out of yourself—a sight for no one to see but your tv screen on a lonely night. 
“Uh, I can play a few notes on the piano but all very beginner's level.” You dipped a fry in your milkshake. 
“Like what?” He seemed genuinely interested. 
“Uhm.. the Flintstones theme song, for one. There was more, but I haven’t played in ages, so I doubt I remember anything.” 
“Flintstones, huh, nice.” He took the last bite of his burger. Knowing how weird it is to look at someone when they’re eating, you looked out the window for a second. It was dark outside, and the rain had come back, letting all the street lights reflect in the asphalt. 
You both finished the remains of your fries and milkshakes while making some more small talk. You got up simultaneously from the booth. Was it over now? You hoped not. You didn’t want to say goodbye. 
You grabbed your things while Tom paid for the food. Then you realised he had left his cap on the table so grabbed it too. But your hands were already full, so you decided to just put it on. Backwards, just like he had been wearing it through the evening.
“It looks good on you,” he commented when you met at the door. 
“Thanks,” there was the heat up your cheeks again. “And thank you for everything else, I had a really great night.” you were about to take the hat off to give it back, but he stopped you.
“It doesn’t have to end here, darling.”
To be continued...
> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed
> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them and let me know if you want to be tagged in part 2! 
>masterlist and link to taglist in bio 
tagging: 
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Note
please tell me your headcannons about the silly old traditions and funny hats and gowns worn at the Assassins Guild graduation ceremonies (bonus points: Vetinari occasionally attends as a distinguished alumnus; differences for those not taking the black) Downey has to make a speech
I love this ask, thank you so much. <3 
--
Downey has added feathers to the hats because it’s Downey and he believes all hats need a nice feather. 
Vetinari: . . .I refuse. 
Downey: It’s a single, white feather. Very stylish. 
Vetinari: You can’t make these hats stylish. It’s impossible. 
Downey: That will not stop me from trying. 
-- 
First it must be said, I place most of my Discworld fashion firmly in the “anywhere from 1350-1650″ camp. Which means there’s lots of diversity but it’s all still very late medieval/early modern. This is a just-me thing though, as the books are all over the place with the fashion. There seemed to be a sense, in the early Watch books, that fashion went backwards (i.e. the more recent, to our mind, the clothes the more old fashioned they are on discworld) but that was quickly abandoned partway through the series and then it became a hodgepodge. 
I still like the early modern feel and so am keeping to it. You can pry Downey’s stupid fucking doublet with its black pearl buttons and his slouchy hat with the Florentine “I’m very gay” feather from my cold, dead hands. 
--
This got long so it’s under the cut. 
Fashion first, because this is Downey and the Assassins we’re talking about after all. 
So I imagine the hats that the professors/teaching staff wear are the slouchy ones like these. This is modeled off of hats that were in fashion when the guild first instituted formal graduation ceremonies which are relatively recent (for a given value of “recent” i.e. only circa 150/200 years ago). 
The students graduating with the Black get the slouchy hats too. The ones who didn’t take the black get the more familiar flat board graduation cap. (Students 100% balance things on top of the flat board cap. This may or may not be desired by the cap-wearer.)
The formal, ceremonial gowns, indeed the entire outfit, for the teachers are hilariously ornate because of course they are. It’s the Assassin’s Guild. 
All ceremonial gowns would be different iterations of the houppelande. 
Beneath the gown there is the Assassin’s black of the doublet with a long-ish skirt beneath the belt (knee length? perhaps floor - but then it starts hitting gown territory). The doublet is form fitting at the top, belted off with the skirt below. Naturally, there are very nice buttons. The linen undershirt is white and can be seen at the collar and wrists. Leggings/tights/hose/whatever you want to call them, also black and worn with dress shoes, not their usual working day boots. All men present wear this, including Vetinari. 
(Downey: No grey-blacks allowed on stage unless it’s representing your specialty and I know you didn’t specialize in astronomy and quantum mathmatics. 
Vetinari: 
Vetinari: But it’s My Colour. 
Downey: Put the doublet on.) 
Women on staff are also all in black, but it’s a dress over a kirtle which is over their undershirt which can be seen at the cuffs. The dress et al is also form fitting on the top with tightly buttoned (or laced) sleeves, then there’s the belt and full skirts after. Dresses are always worn with a high neckline. They too have formal dress shoes, though you can’t see them. 
The ceremonial gowns are black with coloured lining and trim. I’m thinking the sleeves are large and pinned back to show the lining which represents the general field you’re a specialist in. So, green for biology; red for literature/linguistics; white for deportment/dancing; blue for history; yellow for mathematics or whatever. The lining can be dual-colours if applicable. The trim will accent the lining but doesn’t mean anything in particular.  
The slouchy hats, however, tell you what the person specialized in with regards to their training i.e. poisons; knife work etc. 
Some gowns have that long drapey hood that is purely for aesthetics, but not all. I’m thinking if your specialty is stealth (coughHavelockcough) you get it. But, of course, as a specialist in stealth you don’t want people knowing that so no one who qualifies for a drapey hood wears it. 
Students wear simple black gowns with relatively short, deep cut sleeves so you can see more of their doublet beneath. Boys wear the usual doublet/hose combo (kind of like this) and girls the formal dress/kirtle combo (think this, but all black and with less jewels and tighter sleeves) beneath their graduation gowns. 
All gowns on students and staff alike are closed in the front - either with buttons or ties. 
Aside from the hat distinction between those who are taking the black and those who aren’t, the gowns for those taking the Black are all black and have the drapey hood. Those that aren’t taking the black have gowns trimmed with a dark colour - maybe blue? grey? something that blends but still is distinct.
--
Ceremonial Nonsense 
The graduation is held in the great hall where the students usually dine on a day-to-day basis. Parents are allowed and all families get a “plus two” for grandparents or family friends or whatever. 
There are two separate ceremonies - the first is for those taking the Black. That’s the one where Downey forces Vetinari to give a speech as he is Guild Provost and one a Distinguished Old Boy etc. 
Downey does his speech first and usually lines up those coming after him (Vetinari; Mericet; Lady T’Malia is what I have in my head. Though Mericet can usually convince Downey to sub in someone else as he is Too Old For This Shit).
For those taking the Black Downey will pepper in Fun Facts About Assassins and Helpful Pro Tips for Life (some of which are more helpful than others). Vetinari’s speech usually offers subtle rebuttals to Downey’s more outlandish life advice. Lady T’Malia’s is a universal favourite because she has the dry, disdainful wit of a person who has seen way too much nonsense in her life and has lived to continue to roll her eyes at it all. 
Mericet, when he’s made to do a speech and can’t pawn it off on one of the younger staff, is always very short. His record time was 15 seconds wherein he got to the podium, looked somberly out at his soon to be former students, and said “All I can say to you is, good luck and don’t die” then he sat down. Downey could be heard to mutter: Really?? rather loudly. 
Vetinari, more out of a desire to cause Downey some form of annoyance than anything else, will drone on for a long time and pepper in weird references only the headmaster of the guild will understand. He makes a few tiger jokes every year to which Downey, when he gets up to introduce the next speaker, will reply: “You really need to get over that”. No one knows what they’re talking about. However, the students always haaate it when Vetinari takes the podium. There is much sighing and sliding down in seats out of boredom. 
The students are called up to the stage the receive their diploma in order of their name and it’s done by house (so viper house then black widow then poison dart frog or whatever they all are). 
Weapons are expressly forbidden on all students after that One Unfortunate Incident back when Cruces was headmaster about which the least said, soonest mended. 
Back when Downey and Vetinari were graduating, when weapons were allowed, all students were given a ceremonial sword and they got to wear it when they went up to take their diploma. Students still get a ceremonial sword (or dagger, depending on preference) but they are received after the ceremony. 
The infamous ring is presented alongside the diploma. 
For those not taking the Black, it’s still the same roster of speakers but it’s usually a faster ceremony (though, that is changing over the years as the Guild is sought out more and more as a general-purpose educational institution for parents seeking a classical education for their children). 
Students in this group are also gifted a ceremonial sword but they’re allowed to wear theirs during the graduation ceremony because most can do nice, polite, gentlemanly dueling and not much else. Unlike their colleagues who can use it in increasingly diverse and experimental fashions. 
After both ceremonies are complete there is a grand dinner with students and their families and much conviviality. Under Downey’s reign as headmaster the amount of “accidental deaths” that occurred at this dinner have decreased dramatically. Mostly because unlike previous headmaster, Downey thinks it a waste of a good education to knock someone off so soon. Also, it is deplorable manners and not civil.
(Vimes, “It’s also immoral.” Downey, “I fail to see your point, commander?”) 
Wait at least a year or two until inhuming that One Guy who was A Class A Cunt During Maths. Or, if they’re really that bothersome, at least have the grace to wait until after the pudding has been served. 
--
Pre-graduation tomfoolery 
The graduating class, as a whole (well, those who survived the Run and those not taking the Black who haven’t accidentally fallen down the stairs), have two weeks between end of term and graduation and tend to run absolutely wild. 
Downey’s main rule is: no one is inhumed, his dogs are left alone and nothing is set on fire; flooded; booby-trapped; or exploded etc.* 
*see fine print for continuing list. 
It is considered a grand tradition for each house to prank their house master. One year, students cellophaned everything in Mericet’s office. Including individual pages of books. Downey thought this absolutely Delightful. Mericet said, “that’s it, I’m retiring.” Which is, coincidentally, what he says every year. 
Students will also strike up a very large game of Gotcha (i.e. Assassin) over the course of the intervening weeks between Term and Graduation. It used to be a very deadly endeavour but due to Downey’s new rule of “no inhuming until after graduation you daft kids” it’s just become a way to dunk on people. 
These are also the weeks that students clean out their rooms which is always an adventure. Many will try and discreetly sneak out their illegal pot plants and shroom logs. Those that hide them in places that aren’t their room will have minor panic attacks because Lady T’Malia and other staff enjoy rounding up the plants ahead of the students and watching the fallout. 
(Vetinari: I really should tell Vimes you have enough here to supply everyone in the city for a decade. 
Downey: Leave my drug collection alone.)
There is a lot of Lady T’Malia and others being like, “You all do know we hid our illegal shit in the exact same places, right?’ 
Students will also throw end-of-year ragers in the common room which the staff pretend to know nothing about. These tend to get very messy very quickly. Downey will show up around 3am to shut it down, though. Because some people need to sleep and aren’t 18 anymore. 
--
Anyway, that’s the long and short of my headcanon for Guild Graduation nonsense. All in all it’s a rowdy if somewhat bittersweet time. Downey secretly gets a little teary eyed over it. Aww look at his tiny little murderers going off into the big wide world. He remembers when they first arrived with knobbly knees and big eyes. His paternal side comes out in full force. 
Vetinari: it’s very good you have hundreds of students and several dogs because I don’t know what you’d do without them since you’re basically 110% a dad. 
Downey: i might have gotten married. What a horrifying concept. 
Vetinari: 
Vetinari: I have weird feelings about that which I am not going to explore in any great depth. 
--
Thank you so much for the ask! <3 <3 
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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years
Text
Burn With Me Tonight, pt 2
Part I here. Narcos AU - Javi comes to garden for your neighbour.
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MRS CHEN: Be a dear. Can you give the gardeners something refreshing on this hot hot day? I need to head out.
YOU; Sure, when you are heading out?
MRS CHEN: Now. I’m out of mint.
You read the message from your study, looking down at Mrs Chen’s garden. A large mint plant could be seen by the back door. Thriving.
YOU: I see what you’re doing.
MRS CHEN: Who, me? I’m just an innocent retiree who needs mint for her tea.
You shook your head and laughed. Through the open window you heard Mrs Chen telling Javier and Steve that you would bring them some milk and cookies. “It’s not 1980,” you muttered, but, whatever.
You couldn’t deny that you’d quite like to see Javier a little closer.
You heard the sound of Mrs Chen’s car pulling out of the drive and pressed your lips together. Were you really going to go over there and serve them lemonade and cookies like… like what?
Like you wanted to follow Javier’s happy trail to the end - with your tongue?
“Fuck,” you muttered, because you really did want to get to the pot of gold at the end of his rainbow.
You tried to immerse yourself back into work, but against your better judgement, you peeked out the window. Steve was digging a hole, and Javier was setting out patio tiles. He stretched, then drew a forearm over his brow, and dug a crushed ball cap from his pocket, sticking it on his head hurriedly, the edges of his hair poking out.
He called out something to Steve in that deep, husky-edge voice, and your stomach muscles fluttered.
“Okay, Mrs Chen.” you groused. “You win.”
You made up a pitcher of lemonade and tossed in six ice cubes, set it on a tray with two tall glasses and a plate of cookies from your pantry.
When you came outside and stepped over the wall, Steve looked up and grinned. “Oh man, if I wasn’t married, I’d propose right now.”
Javier’s reaction was more subdued, but he set down the tiles, straightened, and met your gaze, a slow smile curving his lips, a little predatory, and the combo of that with his white t-shirt and tight jeans made your hormones sit up and beg.
“Um, here.” You offered the platter to Javier, and he took it, and your fingers brushed. You caught his scent, clean sweat and soap and something slightly spicy, unique, and swallowed back a thick, heavy pang of lust, jolted right to your belly.
“Thanks, that’s…. Really kind of you.” His slow drawl said he had all the time in the world for you, and that made you feel faint, in a really girlish way.
He set the tray down on a table and poured them both a glass. Steve took his gratefully. 
The sun beat down as they drank, and you tried, and failed, not to look as Javier tipped his glass back. A drop of condensation escaped the glass and ran down his jaw and down his neck, disappearing into the vee of his white t-shirt.
Holy. Fuck.
“Um, well, I guess I’ll go,” you said, stepping backwards. “If you, um, need anything-”
The next thing you knew you were hurtling backwards, your arms windmilling-
“Gotta be careful, querida,” Javi murmured, and you looked up into his big, soft soulful brown eyes. “Almost tripped over the wall.”
You’d grabbed his shoulders as you fell and you smoothed your hands down his arms, letting go as he set you back on your feet. God, it was hot when he spoke Spanish, the huskiness of his voice lending itself really well to the musical language. 
“Thanks,” you breathed. “Okay well, if you need my top up, let me know. Um, a lemonade top up. A top up of lemonade.”
Javi held your gaze, and his brown eyes were the colour of your favourite chocolate. “Thanks, ma’am. I feel like one taste won’t be quite enough.”
And then he turned back to his work like he hadn’t just absolutely destroyed you with images of him kneeling between your legs, letting you find out if that little moustache would tickle when he brought you to a shuddering orgasm.
You stepped over the wall and tried to get your brain back into work mode.
Needless to say, it proved difficult, especially when you were sat in the garden reading through a strategic plan draft when Steve called out, “Hey Javi. I’m going to run to the deli for lunch. You want something?”
“Nah, I’ve got stuff with me. Thanks, man.”
You heard the clatter of the door and footsteps as he left, and you held your breath.
“Ah, ma’am? You there?” Javi’s voice drifted over the wall.
You stood up and stepped to the wall. The ballcap hid Javi’s eyes. “Oh, Javier. Hi. Um, can I help you?”
He gestured to the wall, which was wide enough for an impromptu seat. His skin was slick with sweat, the t-shirt clinging to him in obscene ways. “I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me.”
Thanking my boo @constip8merm8 for the beta and fleshing out Mrs Chen!
Tagging: @tiffdawg @spacegayofficial @bunnyart-blog @queenofheavenandhell @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @restingnurseface @iamsuchanasshat @annathewitch @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie​ @ly--canthrope​ @palaiasaurus64​ @littlemissthistle​ @pablopascal​ @pedrosasscal​ @coffeeandtodd​ @holographic-carmen​ @ksgeekgirl​ @fiocodinevetunnale @thinemineours​ 
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enbyleighlines · 4 years
Text
Street dress/outfit styles for the mdzs band au...
The boys:
* Wei Wuxian: hard goth/scene kid vibes, a lot of black, graphic tees, fingerless gloves, multiple ear piercings, chain necklace, combat boots, skinny jeans, painted nails, red ribbon in his hair, sometimes even uses eyeliner (but sparingly)
* Jiang Cheng: punk style, a toned down version of what his brother wears, lots of oversized holographic jackets, a backwards baseball cap, studded belt, baggy black jeans, a single earring in the “straight” ear
* Jin Zixuan: preppy rich boy look, polo shirts, designer jackets, expensive wrist watches, pristine white sneakers, a few gold rings, etc
* Wen Ning: oversized pullover sweaters, sweater vests, cardigans, basically anything that makes him look soft and cute, khaki pants, matching beanie and scarves in the fall and winter, shirts with nostalgic cartoon characters on them
* Nie Huaisang: androgynous fashionista, galaxy brained clothing combos, overall skirts with dress shirts, skorts over animal print leggings, lots of colorful hair accessories, owns enough bags and shoes to match any outfit, very liberal with use of eyeliner, wears lipstick on special occassions
The girls:
* Jiang Yanli: elegant, tunic shirts with belts around the waist, large ruffled sleeves, neon colored jeans, sensible flat shoes and sandals, will absolutely rock the long shirt with leggings combo, fun shaped sunglasses, wears purple and/or pink eyeshadow a lot, eco-friendly accessories made out of recycled material, basically looks like she’s always on her way to Starbucks to get a pumpkin spice latte
* Wen Qing: tomboy punk, wears vests over button up dress shirts, ripped jeans, multiple ear piercings, oversized leather and/or jean jackets with political message patches on them, sometimes wear plaid so she can watch the lesbians squirm, bright red lipstick without any other makeup to piss off the men
* Mian Mian: the most fashionable of all the girls, high waisted pants and skirts, rompers, lots of accessories, everything matches, bright colorful sundresses in the summer with wide-brimmed sun hats, not afraid to wear tube tops or crop tops, uses like ten different makeup products, glitter nail polish is this girl’s best friend
* Qin Su: dresses the most modestly of all the girls, with conservatively cut dresses, loves anything with lace or ruffles, basically dresses like Carole from Carole & Tuesday, y’know that old-fashioned babydoll look, owns a lot of plain white leggings and yellow ribbons for her hair, wears a modest amount of makeup
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maevefiction · 5 years
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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 46
A little over an hour later, pleased I’d remembered that Tom and I needed to remove our rings before opening the room door, I was being escorted to the Hokulea Suite by Simon the Loud and Annoying, my hair still dripping wet, dressed in cut off sweat-shorts and my X-files T-shirt. He was gifting me the details of all the fun he’d had last night with Anne, gushing over her wit and demanding that we all head to New Orleans for Mardi Gras 2017 because he needed her to show him her favorite haunts IN PERSON or he’d never forgive himself or me until my stomach rumbled and I felt a rush of saliva in my mouth, wrinkling my nose at the queasiness that followed.
“We need to detour, dude. Bridezilla requires nourishment prior to prettification.”
He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Really? Really? It’s already after one, and…”
I crossed my arms. “And…what? And you want me to dry heave my way through the vows?”
“Ewwww…Maude. So gross.”
“Whatever. Stress plus hunger is not a good combo for me, apparently. Not going to make the same mistake as yesterday. We’ll still have three hours or something, and if that’s not enough, you can just find me a veil somewhere and I’ll wear it all evening long. Problem solved, am I right?”
“Well, since I am, frankly, rather fearful of what will become of me if I dissent, oh yes, right you are.”
“Mmm hmm. And about that whole Mardi Gras business…have you forgotten that you’ll have two screaming, squalling, pooping machines in your midst by then? Sounds like a less than Ideal experience to me, especially the trans-Atlantic flight part.”
His hands flew up to cover his mouth briefly, then extended open, palms out, to either side of his face. “OH MY GOD YOU’RE RIGHT BABIIIEEEESSSSSS…” He inhaled, then exhaled deeply. “So you really don’t think we can just, you know, bring them with us?”
Shrugging, I took him by the arm and began walking toward the lounge. “Truthfully, I have no fucking idea, and though you obviously have vastly more experience in this department than I do, I’m reasonably sure that’s listed under ‘Super Mega Dumbass Scenarios’ in the parenting handbook.”
He stopped short, and when I turned to him the expression on his face was a mixture of jubilation and pure terror. “When Roland was a baby, I was working so much that Lisa handled…well, everything, essentially. Now I’m going to, like, BE LISA, and the question is, CAN I be Lisa? And with double the poop machines?”
I wrapped my arms around him, kissing each cheek in turn. “You don’t need to be anyone but you, Simon. Because you’re amazing, and you know what? If anyone can pull off bringing two infants across the ocean to do Mardi Gras with Anne Rice, it’s you.”
He squeezed me tightly. “Thank you, Nice Maude.”
“You’re welcome. But if we do end up going, you should know that I am absolutely, positively taking a different flight.”
Snorting, he let go of me and took two steps backward, waving. “Au revoir, Nice Maude.”
I was still snickering as we entered the lounge, wherein I voraciously inhaled two waffles laden with raspberry syrup and whipped cream, two scrambled eggs, four pieces of bacon, a toasted everything bagel with butter, half a melon, a tall glass of orange juice and two cups of Kona coffee, which, after trying it the very first time, I knew I never wanted to live without. A giant blech escaped me as I rose from the table, which struck Simon as so hilariously funny that I wound up sitting back down to wait for him to get a grip, and just as he was able to quasi-communicate it happened again, and then we both completely lost our shit. Those moments are some of life’s best, when the most ordinary thing suddenly becomes a source of incapacitating amusement, and when it turns infectious…even better.
It was going on two-thirty when we finally arrived at the Hokulea Suite, and I could hear the faint thumping bass of what I immediately recognized as Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’ through the door. Veronica was a huge fan, attending every show she could manage, occasionally discussing her dream to somehow find herself as the Lady’s stylist, even if only for a single day. And in this particular instance, ‘occasionally’ meant every time one of Gaga’s songs came on. I couldn’t see Veronica when we first entered, but I could hear her singing, so as Simon headed one way toward his dressing area I followed the sonic trail and discovered her behind one of the far screens working on Anne’s makeup. The sight of Anne high up in the director’s chair, hair hidden beneath a shower cap, body wrapped in a black plastic cape and her bare feet tapping on the tiny rest made me smile widely. She’d been through so much in her own life, yet here she was, still going, still enjoying, still loving, still…living. I felt a pang of regret that I’d shut her out for so long…despite all our differences and disagreements, she was the closest thing to an actual mother I’d ever had. If it weren’t for her encouragement and support, I might have never started my own business, and if that hadn’t happened, my path and Tom’s might never have crossed. I blinked, noticing that both Anne and Veronica were staring at me. Anne reached out to pat my upper arm.
“Love ya, kiddo. Thanks for letting me be a part of all this…I always prayed you’d find someone who’d lift you up and…”
I interrupted her sentence with an embrace so strong I was afraid I might crush her. “Thank you for that. I did. He does. I love you too.”
She chuckled, and as I pulled back the smirk on her face alerted me to what was coming next. “Maude Gallagher, has my sense of hearing failed me or did you just thank me for praying?’
I pointed my index finger first at her, then at Veronica. “Never speak of this again, either of you.” I paused for dramatic effect. “So, anyway…where would you have me go, fine friend and Chief Beautification Enforcer?”
Veronica snorted. “To your designated private but not really private at all temporary staging area. I’ll be done with this one’s makeup in a few minutes, then I’ll come get to work on you. Everyone else is done…well, not me, but that won’t take long.”
“Because you’re naturally gorgeous.”
She smiled. “Born This Way.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’d quote a meaningful Gaga lyric back at you but the only thing that comes to mind right now is p-p-p-p poker face and that always makes me think of poke HER face and…yeah. I’m gonna walk away now. Bye.”
The director’s chair taunted me, all tall and spindly, begging me to climb in so it could tip itself over and dump my ass out onto the ground. If I were a director, I’d demand something leather and cushy with wheels so my personal assistant could push me around the set. Sighing, I checked the mechanisms responsible for holding it open, making sure they were on the up-and-up before I slipped off my Birkis and clambered aboard. It wasn’t as bad as I expected, though I forced myself to remain as still as possible, just in case. A few minutes later Veronica arrived, Telephone now cranking at an unreasonable volume. I removed my T-shirt so she could cape-drape me, and while she worked on my eyelids I nodded off for a few seconds. The short spell was broken by her sternly warning me that if she had to start the process all over again because I’d been up late doing god knows what she’d make me look like one of the Kardashian sisters and that was the end of Maude’s Naptime Session. After makeup came hair, which was going to be all drawn up in a large bun that rested just above the nape of my neck, enclosed in a silver wire cage that was fastened in place with six large silver bobby pins. I couldn’t actually see anything other than the components as they came together, though, because Veronica insisted that I wait until I was fully dressed before looking at myself in the mirror. I managed to remove myself from the chair without incident after Veronica took off my cape, and then followed her instructions to strip down the rest of the way. We’d discussed underwear previously, deciding that a thong would be best, so I’d put a white silk one on this morning, not giving a single thought to the fact that my ass might bear bruises that were unmistakably the marks left by grabbing hands. I let my shorts fall to the floor, hoping there was nothing to see, but her snort as she looked my way after hanging the cape on its hook caused me to instantaneously abandon said hope.
“Well, well, well…you WERE up late doing god knows what, weren’t you?” She drew closer for a better look, emitted a low whistle, and I could feel my cheeks flush. “Honey, your man has some huge hands on him. Oy, I feel like I should cross myself or something for where my mind went next. Anyway. Let’s hope they don’t show through the fabric.”
“Oh my GOD do you really think…” I craned my neck in order to see her face, saw a wide smirk upon it, and realized that she was totally fucking with me. “Dude. Not cool. NOT. COOL.”
She grinned. “I know. I also know I should be sorry, but I’m not. Take that bra off while I get your gown out of its bag, please and thank you.”
My phone chirped, and I bent down to fish it out of the left front pocket of my shorts. It chirped three more times before I stood up and unlocked it, and for a moment my heart fluttered, wondering if another bout of ugliness awaited me. Thankfully, what I found were four messages from Melanie.
The Big Day is finally here! – Melanie
Everything is in place and just as it should be. Two videos to follow. See you soon! – Melanie
The first was of the ceremony site, white chairs on either side of the purple carpet facing the ocean and the arbor. We didn’t want an arch so we’d chosen a more minimalist, almost Oriental-style construct. It was rectangular, four thick, squared poles forming the bottom, connected at the top by two flush pieces at the sides, two extended beams across the front and the back. All had been painted white, the front and back beams wrapped with alternating purple and green fabric that draped down the sides. Large square glass containers had been fastened to the front poles using three strips of burnished silver sheet metal and filled with purple orchids, lady’s mantle, and flowering comfrey. More purple carpet lined the bottom of the structure, and she’d started filming at the far end and walked up the aisle and, of course, waterworks once again loomed. I closed my eyes, breathed in, then out, then again and again until I calmed down because, makeup. The second video was of the Paddle Room, and it was…perfect. Exactly as I’d specified, right down to the books specifically chosen for each table. Another message came through, and I exited the file to view it.
PS - don’t be concerned if you notice the cake isn’t included. That needs to be a surprise. – Melanie
I typed out a reply, my shaky hands making it extra challenging.
It’s all perfect. Totally perfect. Thank you so much for doing this. Amazing. Surreal. Everything. – Maude
Another chirp.
You are very, very welcome. So happy you’re happy! – Melanie
I put my phone away, bra still in place when Veronica returned. She rolled her eyes at me, and I undid the hooks and tossed it onto the chair. The mini-dress came first, followed by the silver gladiator sandals, then the maxi-skirt. Veronica sighed heavily, smiling.
“Maude, you are…breathtaking.”
My left eyebrow rose. “In a good way, or in a Seinfeld you’ve-got-to-see-the-baaaaaaaby way?”
“Come see for yourself, why don’t you?” She held out her left hand. “You have to close your eyes until we’re there so you get the full effect. I’ll lead you.”
“M’kay.” I reached for her, closing my eyes once I’d established a firm grip, silently hoping that this was indeed a simple walk to the mirror and not an instance of ‘surprise the bride’ because I was in no condition to handle that sort of fuckery.
After navigating what I assumed was the center area of the room Veronica stopped me, let go of my hand and turned me around, speaking only a single word.
“Open.”
I tilted my head downward and let my eyelids slowly lift until I was staring down into my own cleavage. Exhaling, I began to raise my head, higher and higher, and then…there I was. Maude Gallagher on her wedding day in her wedding dress ready for her wedding ceremony and wedding reception. She was me, but…not me. The woman in the mirror appeared to have just stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine spread, and I found myself reaching out to touch her because that woman couldn’t be me, wearer of ancient T-shirts who sniffed items of clothing found on the floor to judge by scent if they were acceptable to wear just one more time before washing them. My fingers connected with the surface of the mirror and I gasped.
“It IS me. Holy. Fucking. Shit.” I heard laughter, but I was too busy studying my reflection to acknowledge it. Veronica had dressed me for my dinner at Daniel with Tom, and there had been some serious wow factor then for sure but this…she’d coordinated my eye shadow with the bridesmaid dresses, a gradient from purple to green starting at eyebrow level with a faint overlay of silver. The liner was black, and my lashes were darkened with black mascara, impossibly long and thick, yet somehow still appearing natural. On my lips was a shade of deep maroon-purple, again matching a component of the bridesmaid dresses, thinly lined with a dark green which should have looked awful but…didn’t. It worked, and worked well. Paired with the style dress I’d chosen and the silver-crowned bun, the overall effect made me feel like I could absolutely, positively land a role in the next Star Wars film as Leia’s progeny and that was right off the fucking charts, man. Right. Off. I turned to the woman with limitless talent next to me, shaking my head back and forth slowly.
“Veronica. VERONICA. VER. ON. ICA. You’re like…you’re a fucking SORCERESS. For real. Really. I can’t…I just…thank you. Thank you.”
She grinned, pointing her index finger at me. “You’re very welcome, dear darling Maude. Now don’t fuck it up before we go out there, okay?”
I snorted. “Listen, I’ll do my best, but you know the face probably won’t last through the ceremony and the dress is doomed to be destroyed at cake time, if not before. Better get some pics for your portfolio while you can, my friend.”
“I will. But first I have to make myself presentable.” She turned to Emma, Sarah, Trudy and Anne, all of whom had gathered behind me. “Ladies, please keep the bride out of trouble while I’m gone.” They laughed, nodding, and Veronica disappeared behind one of the screens just as Simon emerged from behind his own. He screeched at the sight of me, hands raised to shoulder height, palms facing me, fingers spread widely.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! OH MY GOD LOOK AT YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! MAAAUUUUUUUUUUUDEEEEEEE! SPACE PRINCESSSSSSSSSSS!”
I screeched in return. “I KNOOWWWWWWWWWW! AND LOOK AT YOUUUUUUUU!”
He smirked as he spun in a circle. “I. AM. FABULOUS.”
“YOU ARE! SHOULD WE STOP SHOUTING?”
“PROBABLY!”
He air-kissed my cheek. “Poor Tom. I don’t think he’s prepared for this level of gorgeousis spectacularity.”
The thought that I’d soon be walking down the aisle with Simon at my side, seeing for myself just how prepared Tom was, took its place front and center in my mind, and as I assessed whether or not I’d be able to cope with such a thing, the realization that my father was absent in all of this slammed into me, and hard. My gaze turned toward the floor, and I closed my eyes tightly to shut out everything around me. He’d been gone for so long, and while I thought of him often, it was always briefly, the moment tinged with fondness for a memory, a touch of sadness, and a wish that he’d found peace. This time, it was fury, and a longing so intense it was physically painful. He’d left me alone in this world with a mother who had no love for me whatsoever, and he’d never know me as I was now, the woman I’d become, the things I’d accomplished, and on this day when I was celebrating the love I’d found, he was a corpse in a crypt in New Orleans when he should have been here, giving me away, sharing a father-daughter dance. He’d never know Tom, never know our children…and they’d never know him. I understood the why of what he’d done, but the fact that it, to me, his child, his ONLY child, felt like such a wasteful, selfish act was inescapable. He’d chosen himself over all else, including me, and here I was on my wedding day, with his death on my mind and threatening to override my happiness. Which I was NOT going to permit…too many moments had been stolen from me already. This was MY time now. And my life. And my god, what an amazing, beautiful life it had become. I swallowed, inhaled, exhaled, and then swallowed again, beating the sorrow and rage into submission. I felt hands grasp my forearms and I opened my eyes to find Simon staring at me, his own eyes full of worry, and when I smiled his face changed and he breathed a sigh of relief, his voice soft and low as he spoke.
“Want to talk about it?”
My head shook back and forth slowly. “Ghosts. I’m over it. Thank you.” I twisted my wrists so my hands could clutch his forearms, linking us like a snake eating its own tail. “Thank you for being willing to walk me down the aisle, Simon. It means so much to me, more than words can say. I love you. Like, a whole lot.”
He nodded, acknowledging that he understood, knowing me so well that what I’d been thinking about was perfectly clear to him. “You’re very welcome. I love you too. And bitch, if I cry and get droplet marks all over this very fine suit and ruin your wedding photos, that’s all on YOU.”
We both giggled, and just as I opened my mouth to explain to the women standing around me Melanie walked through the door and announced that we were fifteen minutes from go time.
****************************************
A row of white screens had been set up to one side of the ceremony site in order to block any possible viewing of me prior to my grand entrance. No one had seen the bridesmaid dresses yet either, but apparently no one was concerned about ruining that surprise because they were all allowed to peek around the barrier and comment on how incredibly handsome Tom looked, and also how he was fidgeting more than a kindergartener who needed to use the bathroom but didn’t want to miss story time. As part of his sound system, Sammy had set up a microphone at the far end of the site and outdoor speakers throughout, and I could hear strains of native Hawaiian music, though it was muted by the pounding of my own heart in my ears. Instead of using the traditional walk-in song, I’d decided to go with a version of Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’ that I’d seen on YouTube…any version moved me to tears, but this one made me sob like a baby. Which, in hindsight, might not have been the wisest choice…but it was so beautiful, and the timing was perfect. It was an orchestral performance in a town square, starting with one lone bass player, with additional groupings being added as the piece progressed. The faces of the crowd were full of enchantment and wonder in the video, experiencing the sound of notes put together by someone long ago in the present and amongst other humans, all feeling…well, just FEELING. That was the point. In the moment, in harmony, so ALIVE. As Melanie signaled for everyone to line up, the Hawaiian music stopped, and in the silence that followed I tried to imprint the moment, the quiet, the before…and then the sound of the bass began to resonate, and it was really, truly go time. The wedding party would have the duration of the instrumental portion to reach their places, and Simon and I would start our walk when the soft chorus began, hopefully reaching Tom and Luke, whom we’d decided should remain at Tom’s side since Simon would be with me, just in time for the pause point before the escalating chorus and finale began. Ken and Anne were first, followed by Ben and Veronica, Chris and Trudy, Guillermo and Sarah, then Hugh and Emma. Simon proffered his right arm for me to hold, and I shifted the bouquet of purple orchids and lady’s mantle to my right hand in order to take his arm with my left. We rounded the corner just as the singing began, and all of our guests rose from their seats as I took my first step forward, then froze in place as I witnessed Tom’s knees buckle at the sight of me, Luke grabbing him by the elbow in an attempt to steady him. Simon tilted his head sideways in order to whisper in my ear.
“Don’t freak out, honey. You can do this. Keep. Moving.”
And I did. I don’t know HOW, but I did. Everything and everyone other than Tom was a blur, our guests, the wedding party lined up, Tom’s chosen people on the left, mine on the right, the judge, all of it…except for my husband, who was already my husband, but not yet my husband as far as anyone else was concerned. There he was, in his black suit and white dress shirt with a purple waistcoat I knew I’d see more of later when he ditched the jacket to dance, his silver pocket square jutting out in a perfect triangular point, black patent shoes practically glowing in the sun. I watched him shake his head and mouth the words ‘oh my god’ over and over before he smiled at me, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over, followed by a hand across his mouth, then a silent ‘I love you’ and a grin that grew ever wider as I drew nearer. And then there I was, with Simon releasing my arm and Tom taking my hand in his, not even noticing that my bouquet had somehow gone missing when I raised my right hand to wave like a child at my beautiful man and managed to squeak out a single word.
“Hi.”
He waved back, voice cracking as he returned the greeting. “Hi.”
I heard a whooshing sound and briefly thought I was dying, then realized the noise had been everyone sitting back down in their chairs. The judge cleared his throat, and we turned to face him, backs to our guests. Today he was wearing a proper suit, which startled me because my addled brain had been expecting the tuxedo T-shirt. It was dark green linen, with a white shirt and bow-tie, and I wondered if it was a coincidence that he coordinated with our color scheme or if Melanie had requested that he do so. He smiled at us, then began speaking.
“We gather today in this place of sea and sky and sand and sun to join the couple who stand before me in matrimony. That word, it’s a significant word, an important word, but what it represents is most meaningful…two individuals who feel a profound connection between them, both physically and spiritually, a connection from which stems a deep and abiding love so powerful that the two seek to become one. To become… a family, not to which they’re born, but one which they choose to create.” He paused briefly, then continued. “Thomas William Hiddleston and Maude Gallagher, is it your wish to marry each other on this day, June 29th, 2016?”
We nodded, speaking in unison. “Yes.” The urge to say ‘absofuckingloutely’ had been overwhelming, and I was super proud of myself for exercising some self-control.
“Then let us proceed. It is my understanding that you’ve prepared your own vows?” Another nod from both of us. “Please turn and face each other. May I have the rings?”
After panicking for several very long seconds because I had no idea how we were handling that bit for this ceremony, I spotted Luke stepping forward and passing them to the judge, who in turn gave Tom’s to me. I sighed in relief, having hoped that’s how it would play out this time around as well. I reached for Tom’s left hand, which I’d released as we’d turned, and grasped it with my own, pretending to wipe sweat from my brow with my right hand.
“Well thank the universe for small favors…I SO didn’t want to have to try and come up with something after this one had a chance to speak. “ I hooked my right thumb in his direction, noting the soft chuckles that emanated from our friends and family as I met Tom’s gaze. “One year ago, I drove out to Talk Story because I, book nerd that I am, couldn’t resist the prospect of maybe, just maybe, finding that long-sought first edition of The Gunslinger. I didn’t…not that time, anyway…but I did find One Hundred Years of Solitude. Which, looking back, is so over the top ridiculous, because…that’s what the life I’d lived before that day feels like since you appeared in those stacks, trying to go all incognito and using a certain bullwhip-toting archeology professor’s name as your alias. Up until then, to me, you were that incredibly talented actor whose social media accounts I used as an example of what NOT to do in my lectures. But in your presence, seeing you, then and there…gotta be honest, I kinda lost the plot for a few seconds.” A round of laughter from our guests ensued. “Which was, you know, totally unacceptable. No thank you, hard pass, Maude is better off alone. But then you followed me outside, and then you KNELT on the sidewalk in front of me…deep down, I knew I was a goner when I let you have one of my Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup peanut butter cookies, but my jadedness persisted. For like, a few hours. And that night, in my hotel room…which is now OUR hotel room…when you tucked me into bed and spent the night…when you stayed…that was that. There you were, the other half of my soul, and finally, I’d been made whole.” I’d managed to not cry, but tears were running freely down his cheeks. “So, Dr. Jones…are you ready for the life-long adventure of being my husband? I don’t have an Ark or a Holy Grail, but I’m pretty good in bed, and I promise to love you with all that I am and all that I’ll ever be.”  
He nodded, wiping away tears with his free hand. “I do love a grand adventure…and I’ve never been more ready for something in all my days.”
I turned his left hand over, opened my right one, then slipped the band onto his left ring finger. “Well then, with this ring, I thee wed. Off we go!”
Tom let go of my hand in order to hold his up high, grinning proudly as he moved it slowly back and forth to show off his new accessory to the crowd before turning his attention back to me, taking hold of my left hand, then bringing it to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on my knuckles. The judge placed my ring in Tom’s open right palm, his fingers closing tightly around it as he stared into my eyes, and I knew the vows he’d planned on using had gone right out the window, because he was re-writing them right then, crafting with his heart and soul words that would likely echo my sentiments. Following a slight nod that indicated he was satisfied, he began to speak.
“One year ago, I drove out to Talk Story to pick up a book I hoped would assist me in playing a role. I was in a rush, as Luke had scheduled a meeting I wasn’t expecting. In an attempt to avoid being recognized, which would have slowed me down and made me late for, as I’m sure Luke will confirm, the millionth time, I donned a baseball cap and Hawaiian print shirt as a rather crude disguise. When I walked through the door and saw the staff wearing Loki shirts, I panicked…and then, I saw you. And, like you, I lost the plot. It was as if the heavens had opened up and the sun shone on you and you alone, lighting my way. I followed the path, finding myself standing behind you, thoroughly unable to form words as I watched you choose your books so very carefully. When you spun around I thought you might slap me, but instead, you recognized me, understood my plight, and solved my problem. When you called me Indy…well, how could I NOT follow you outside and beg for your number?” I snorted. “I was completely bent out of shape that I had to leave in order to make that damn meeting, which I had no desire to attend in the first place, because all I wanted to do was be near you, to talk to you, to get to know you. The entire ride back to this side of the island all I thought about was you, and I was telling Luke that this was it, you were THAT woman, MY woman, as we walked into Kauai Pasta and…there you were. You were the person Luke had set up the meeting with. Of all the people in this world, it was you. Over the next few hours, I fell in love with you at least a hundred times, each instance pulling me deeper and deeper until we parted company and…I couldn’t bear it, so I turned up at your door practically in the middle of the night with tea and truffles. And later, when I stayed…I knew I never, ever wanted to leave. In seeking out something to help me play a make-believe role I’d already been cast in, through some miraculous alignment within the universe, here I am stepping into the real-world role of a lifetime, the one I was born for…that of being husband to you.” I’d managed to swallow back my sobs, but hot tears were dripping down and off my nose. “So, Ms. Gallagher…are you ready for the life-long adventure of being my wife? I’ve no Sankara stones or crystal skull, but I’ll always have truffles at the ready, and I promise to love you with all that I am and all that I’ll ever be.”  
I nodded. “You had me at truffles. Plus, you’re really good in bed. Sign me up and let’s roll, baby.”
He turned my left hand over, opened his right one, then slipped the band onto my left ring finger, absent of my engagement ring, which was currently residing on my right hand. “Well then, with this ring, I thee wed. Off we go!”
We looked to the judge, who had placed both hands in front of his chest, palms together. “By the power vested in me by the state of Hawaii, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
There was no waiting for permission…our lips were locked before he even finished his sentence, and if it weren’t for Simon poking me in the ribs we would have missed our exit cue. Ode to Joy’s divinely loud chorale had begun, and Tom and I started upon our first official walk as husband and wife, our guests all on their feet, applauding, cheering, and whistling as we worked our way to the white screen, where we waited for the rest of the wedding party to join us. When the tempo sped up, they ran towards us, and Tom picked me up by my waist and spun me around…it was such an incredible moment, a happy moment, the kind you want to freeze frame and go back to again and again, one you wouldn’t mind having as your very final thought on this earth. And then, it was over in a flash as I desperately signaled for him to put me down, making my way behind the screen just in time to barf on the impeccably groomed green grass.
Just as it had the day before, my stomach purged itself until it was empty, and afterward I felt perfectly fine. Tom surrendered his pocket square so I could wipe my mouth, and while I dabbed at my lips I noticed no one else was around. He placed a hand on my bare back, smiling softly.
“I shooed them back around the screen. Figured you wouldn’t want an audience.”
“Thank you. That was…bizarre. Have I reached that age where spinning makes you puke? But I wasn’t spinning yesterday, that was stress…so, is EVERYTHING going to make me puke now? Or is it a stomach virus? Because I was really queasy earlier before I ate.” I looked down at my dress, and the mess I’d left on the ground. “Well that’s disgusting. Sheese. But, the dress appears to be unscathed so, commence picture time. Though I’d kinda like to bush my teeth or at least rinse, and I guess I could use some more lipstick…”
“Why don’t we go back to your dressing area so you can freshen up?” His smile was still the same, which struck me as odd, and I felt my mind wander into ‘oh my god is there something really wrong with me and I’m the only one who doesn’t know it’ territory. I nodded, and he kissed my cheek. “I’ll go let everyone know we’ll be back in a bit – they can head in to the Paddle Room with the guests, then come back out when we’re ready to do group shots before our session with the media.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
When he returned from around the screen I could discern from his expression that something was absolutely up, which made me freak out even more. He took my hand and we walked the short distance to the Hokulea suite in silence. After we were inside, he went into the kitchen, grabbed a Coke from the fridge, then sat on the sofa to our left and motioned for me to sit down next to him. I did so, as carefully as possible, suddenly dying of thirst and wanting what was in that can more than anything else I could think of. He popped the top and passed it to me, and I drank three-quarters of it a few long, loud gulps then wiped my lips with the back of my hand.
“This is so COLD and so GOOD. Mmmmm.”
Tom’s hand came to rest on my knee, his eyes first staring downward, then lifting to meet mine. “Maude, I’ve…over the past month or so…I...I’ve observed some…changes…in your behavior, and now, over the past two days, there’s been a physical manifestation…” The world started to dim around me, and I could feel my internal temperature rising as panic washed over me. “I just…I didn’t know how to broach the subject, so I haven’t and I still don’t know but…I think need to ask you a question and…well…have you been…are you…you know…late?”
My brow crinkled as my head tilted to the left. “Late? I don’t…what does that…late with, like, what? Or do you mean slow on the uptake or something, to which I’d respond with a resounding yes but I thought it was all the pressure but do you think I have dementia or a brain tumor or something? It’s okay, just say it…”
“Oh no. No, no, no.” He slid closer to me so our legs were touching. “Your period. Have you been late with your period. I know you’ve been expecting it, and it hasn’t arrived, and when I thought back, I don’t recall you having it for quite some time, so…”
Shaking my head, I put my Coke down on the floor. “By a few days, maybe. But my cycle’s been wacky since I went off the pill. Christ, you scared the SHIT out of me.”
He swallowed, wondering, I imagined, how to proceed because he obviously thought differently. I counted to ten silently, because for some reason I was fast on my way to becoming pissed off, then put my hand over his.
“Tom, I know, I can’t stand waiting for it to happen either, but it’s on my calendar and everything. I’ll go get my phone.”  I stood, then walked back to where my shorts were bunched up on the floor and dug the device out of my left front pocket. As I sat back down on the couch, I pulled up my calendar and swiped back to May. “Yep, there it is. May 27th. So yeah, I’m technically late but I went 21 days in March and then 32 in April or something, so…” And then I swiped back to April. And then I swiped back to March, then back to April. Then to May, then back to April. And then, my jaw dropped open and I REALLY started to freak the fuck out. He just sat there, expressionless, while I tried to wrap my head around what I was seeing.
“I…I…I can’t believe this. April. There’s nothing there. No data. Not. There. I think…I think I…now that I’m like, really THINKING about it, it does seem like it’s been a while since I bought pads and I think maybe I put April’s dates on the May grid and that means May was period-less and that means…I’m late. Like late…enough. Wow. WOW. This is CRAZY. Tom. TOM. I thought you were hallucinating or whatever and here I am trying to prove you wrong but you’re like, not wrong, I don’t think. Okay. We can’t be sure until I take a test, right? And I don’t think I can wait until after the reception to know. I need to know. Oh my god. CRAZY. Can I sneak out of here in this outfit and go to the drug store around the corner without anyone recognizing me, do you think?”
He shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning up just slightly. “No, I don’t think that’s possible. Honestly, I don’t know how we’re even going to send Luke or Simon or someone else we’re comfortable discussing this with to purchase a pregnancy test what with the media lurking all over. Even if they’re dressed in casual clothing.”
We were interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by Melanie Hale’s voice, inquiring softly.
“Maude? Tom? Is everything all right?”
Tom and I looked at each other, and I gave him a double thumbs up. She was a local, not as overly-adorned as the rest of us, and the press had no clue who she was yet since we hadn’t mentioned her on social media as part of our effort to keep the wedding details under wraps. And, since she’d not mentioned a blessed thing either, I had complete faith in her ability to keep a secret. I shouted for her to come in, and when she saw us sitting down she placed one hand over her heart and said some seriously magic words.
“If there’s something I can do to help, anything…please, feel free to ask.”
My face scrunched up as I spoke. “Weeellll…now that you’ve mentioned it, there is this one thing…”
****************************************
After hunting down the lipstick shade Veronica had applied earlier and giving myself a fresh coat, I texted Simon and told him we were ready to have the bridesmaids and groomsmen join us back at the ceremony site for photos. Focusing on the task at hand was nearly impossible, my mind preoccupied with images of Melanie walking into a store, choosing a pregnancy test, paying for it, driving back to the hotel, then sneaking up to our room, using the key we’d given her to enter, and leaving it behind along with what she’d purchased as we’d planned. I attempted to estimate how many more shots the photographer would likely require before this session was declared complete and we were permitted to move on to the next one, all the while attempting to portray myself as a woman who’d just wed the love of her life, which I was…but now I was ALSO a woman who might be carrying his child, and trying to disguise the fact that the anticipation of confirming such a thing was driving me insane turned out to be a wickedly difficult challenge. Finally, it was over, and Tom and I headed to the same room the press conference had been held in yesterday to pose for the media outlets, all of whom had complied with our requests. A large backdrop had been positioned at the front of the room, a medium-grey gradient that was typically the first choice whenever someone specified ‘not the blue one’. They’d structured their positioning and rotation on their own, so all Tom and I had to do was smile and shift around to add some variety. One photog yelled ‘dip her!’ and I held my breath during the act, hoping I wouldn’t throw up at such an inopportune time. I didn’t, and even managed to spin around a little in order to make my skirt flare out without any repercussions. Tom had set his phone alarm, and when it went off, we thanked the group for respecting our wishes, then exited via the side door, closed it behind us, and held hands as we walked to the stairwell and up to our room. He released me to slide the keycard, and I followed him inside, then pushed past him to get to the gift bag on the bed. There was a card attached, written in Melanie’s overly-rounded cursive.
“Got you a few different kinds – that’s what I’ve always done. Fingers crossed for you!”
Melanie’s definition of ‘a few’ was six, apparently, because that’s how many there were, along with three plastic shot-glass sized cups. That she’d thought to use a gift bag to bring it all into the hotel was a testament to her thoroughness, and I stopped to seriously consider offering to pay the entirety of their college tuition for her kids, then decided that if Tom and I got and kept her name out there she wouldn’t need any help with that. At all. Tom’s arms slipped around my waist from behind, and I leaned back into him.
“Maude, I hope you won’t be upset with me if…”
“I won’t be. I’ll be disappointed…BEYOND disappointed…but I’m glad you brought it up. I had no clue. None. It might have been another month or two before I noticed, and this way, if I’m not pregnant and something else is going on, we can address it sooner as opposed to later. That’s what I’m telling myself, anyway. Let’s do this. I hope I can use those cups to pee in, because the odds of me landing any on the actual sticks are slim to none.”
Four of the tests were supposed to show results in three minutes, the other two in five minutes. And yes, cup dipping was an acceptable substitute for stream-to-stick. Even still, I took off the maxi-skirt and hiked up my dress as far as possible before I went into the bathroom in order to avoid any unpleasantries…as any woman who’s ever endured a urine specimen collection will attest to, at best, you’ll wind up with a little on your hands. At worst, there will be none in the cup when you’re done and you’re back at square one. I was really grateful for that Coke and the length of time that had gone by since I chugged it, because I filled those cups like a fucking champ, handing them one by one to Tom, who placed them ever-so-gently on the counter. I finished my business, washed my hands, and we each dipped three tests, one in each cup, placed them on the other side of the counter in a tidy little row, then went out into the main area to wait. Neither of us spoke as we stood watching the countdown timer on Tom’s phone he’d set for five minutes click off the seconds, and when it reached the two minute marker I reached for his hand, my own shaking so badly I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold on to him. He grabbed, then squeezed as he exhaled heavily.
“Are you ready?”
“HA – no, dude. No I am not. But I think they can give false results if you wait too long so…”
He nodded, and since we couldn’t fit through the door side by side, we closed our eyes until we were both inside the bathroom. His voice echoed off the walls as he spoke.
“All right, open on the count of three, then…one, two…THREE.”
I counted two sets of pink vertical lines, two sets of blue vertical lines, one grey plus sign, and one ‘pregnant’ that I’d later insist blazed in neon purple showing through the little plastic window. Six tests, six positives. I counted once more to be sure, blurting out the very first thing that came to mind.
“Oh my fucking god, Hiddleston. You did it. You knocked me UP.” I turned to take stock of his reaction, but his face wasn’t where it was supposed to be so I tipped my head downward and discovered that he’d sunk to his knees and was white as a sheet. My jaw dropped, and I put my hands on his shoulders. “Babe, are you okay? You don’t look okay. Talk to me.” His head lifted slowly, eyes blinking rapidly as he started at me, his mouth hanging halfway open, still silent. “Tom?”
He reached out and wrapped his arms around my hips, then pulled me close, resting his head on my lower belly. In which I was growing a tiny human. I felt my body go cold, and as I began to shudder Tom rose, shifted the tests to the side, then picked me up and plopped me on the counter top. He placed his hands on the sides of my face, leaning in so his forehead touched mine.
“You’re pregnant.”
I nodded, his head moving with the motion as well. “I’m…pregnant. Pregnant. Is this real? How can this be real? Who finds out they’re pregnant in the middle of their wedding? Seriously. I mean…I’m pregnant. I…I can’t believe it. I really didn’t think it would happen, you know? And it happened and it’s like one miracle on top of another and I just…” I began to sob, full-body, noisy, grateful sobs. Tom leaned back and gently pressed my head to his chest, smoothing my hair, and I could feel his body heaving as he sobbed right along with me. As much as I needed to be as close as possible to him right then, the desire to see him was greater, so I leaned back and grabbed his lapels, still weeping as I spoke. “We’re having a BABY.”
“Yes. Yes we are.” He smiled through his tears and began to sing. “You’re havin’ my baby…what a lovely way…”
I screeched and covered my ears. “NO OH MY GOD NO TOM NO I HATE THAT SONG…”
He laughed, which made me laugh as well…at least until I remembered we had a reception to attend, and pondered if we should keep this news to ourselves, and, if we went that route, precisely how we were going to do such a thing while surrounded by all the people we’d be dying to tell.
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shinobicyrus · 6 years
Text
“Familiar Face”
My submission for Phanniemay Day 8: Clones. Surprising myself, instead of Danielle I decided to write a short with my oc Samuel, loosely inspired by kikaiz’s Reverse Trio AU. 
Those first fleeting moments of consciousness as she was spilled out on a cold floor felt less like being born and more like falling into a drugged sleep. A brief moment of lucidity for a life more felt than half-remembered. Crowded halls lined with locker banks, homework, tests, the pressure to fit in and failing, hormones and a quiet heartache. A boy with glasses, a NASA cap, and a goofy-shy smile like a-
She grasped for it and failed, floating through the lab in a fog of numb unreality. Sterile walls, chemical smells in her nose and soakinghher hair, too-bright light blurring away details in a wash of intense white. White walls. White floors. The thin white rubber mat that was her bed. The white leotard that left the pale, white skin of her arms and legs bared and accessible for masked figures in white surgical garb. 
Strapped to an examination table. To a chair that reminded her of the dentist (what does it mean if you dream about going to the dentist? Jaz...someone she knew dabbled in those stupid dream interpretation books)
The inquiries of metal. Little prods and cuts. Needles slipping in and watching her own blood fill a glass syringe; sometimes ruby red, other times viscous and glowing witchlight green.
The tests hurt. She knew that intellectually, but not in that bone-deep, animal panic way. She was numb to it but still hoped it would clear the fog and wake her, but they didn't dig deep enough. She suspected in some back corner of her brain that it had something to do with the things they kept injecting into her, burning numbness through her veins and ink biting into her wrist. The side of her head (shaved recently, but she can’t remember when). Two blocky, jet black digits etched to partner with the crisscrossing red lines on the white canvas of her limbs.  
Mom always said she’d kill me if I got a tatto-
She never felt tired but slept when they told her to- a hope somewhere at the bottom of this well of drugged haze that if she did, she would finally wake up in a home she’d nearly forgotten, back in her room, going downstairs to a cooked breakfast and leaving the dream of the lab on her pillow to dissolve like a broken cobweb.
Sleeping in too late. They were waiting for her. The one with dark dreadlocks and the other with a smile that lit up when he saw the stars. 
Danny?
“Sir, I’m reading unusual theta-wave fluctuations.”
“Adjust the dosage.”
They made their voices clear through the fog with punctuation of scalpel and shocks. She obeyed because the metal was the only time things felt real. 
“Float one meter above the deck. Now, point-five more.”
“Phase your hand through this wall- hold it there. Push it further in.”
“Hold your invisibility and remain perfectly still during the scan.”
“Fire at those targets. Good. Control: increase their speed by thirty percent. I want faster acquisition.”
They were testing her limits. Training her for something. Like in the basement of her mom and dad’s labr-
“Transform.”
“I said do it, Four. Comply.”
I’m...going...ghostly?
(Tucker’s laugh. Maybe we should work on that, Sam.)
Tucker?
“Up the dosage. Twenty milligrams. Just do it.”
Tucker?
A few times she caught sight of a boy she didn’t know in the polished metal of an instrument tray, or in the glass of a window. Young. Short haired. A backwards number four inked into the side of his head. The face floated, ghostlike and unseen, between two men watching her in the window. One in a pristine white white white always white I’m drowning in white suit and dark sunglasses with another man in green fatigues and a chest crowded with ribbons. 
“My God, I have a son that age.”
“Respectfully Colonel, you don’t. Four was decanted less than four months ago. Don’t let it fool you into thinking it’s human.”
“But the briefing said it’s...a hybrid? Half ectoplasm and half human DNA?”
“Humans share seventy percent of their genes with slugs. Mathematically, the menu at a French restaurant is more human than that thing.”
(”Not human, not ghost...” Spectra crooned.)
“Uncle Sam isn’t paying you a hundred million dollars for escargot, Director.”
“No he is not, Colonel. Control: release the specimens.”
A section of the plain white wall slides open and a pack of three creatures float out, swimming in empty air and bombing with swishing tendrils and demented smiles. A lesson enforced at the end of a needle: Class One Malefactors “Oh come on Sam, ectopusses is the perfect name for th-”, circling around the room with the aimlessness of animals set loose in a space larger than they’d been held in.
The intercom crackles. “Four: You are cleared to engage.”
The fight felt so familiar, a moment of lucidity in the violence cutting through the perpetual fog. She flew towards one faster than it expected and punched it hard into the wall, another roared a challenge and charged at her. Instead of dodging she willed herself intangible and let it fly through her, going solid just as it passed so she can grab a bundle of its tentacles, swing it around, and slam it into the third.
They crashed in a confused tangle of babbling shrieks and too-many limbs. She raised a hand a fired a bolt of raw power- splattering the pair into a steaming mess of green goo over the white walls. The first she’d hit launches off the wall towards her, and her intangible feet slipped down through the floor, still leaving of her top-half solid enough to grab the ectopuss Malefactor and slam it on the floor once, twice, and the third time bursting it into a steaming mess. 
The streaks of green ruining the sterile white is satisfying in a way she could not articulate. She thought it was the first time she remembers smiling ever in a long time.
“Well I’ll be damned. That’s one scrappy little slug.”
The intercom again. “Release Subject Two.”
A new section of wall opens behind her. This time with the suggestion of something wrapped in glowing blue chains and a white tarp. A buzzing, electronic click powers down the chains, and the medical tarp reserved for cadavers was shredded by a glowing green skeleton, everything below the ribs missing, save for a pair of upsettingly familiar eyes crammed into two sockets.
“Two. Four. You are cleared to engage.”
They both look at the spot on the wall where the voice came from, then each other. The skeleton moves first, faster without the extra mass slowing it down and more comfortable in the air. It’s voice is a wail echoing in empty bones, slashing wildly with bony talons. 
One slashed across her side, tearing the leotard. Her blood is green today, leftovers glistening on the skeleton's clawtips. It cut through the fog, and she laughed as she dodged the follow-up strikes.
“Come on, dazzle me!”
It’s fast but reckless, vicious but too simplistic. It’s easy as learning combos in Immortal Kombat, her boys groaning as she performs yet another fatality to learn its patterns, catch it by the wrist in the middle of a wide slash, and tear the bony arm out of its socket. 
The bone of its skull had a 02 etched into it in the same font as her tattoo. She learned this because she saw it before her boot crushed it like a piece of old pottery.
“Sir, I think we should halt the test here. We’re showing elevated-”
“If it can’t handle the stress here, it’s not good to us in the field. Release Subject Three.”
At first she’s not sure what she’s seeing. A darting green light that could fit in her palm, darting in erratic patterns that leave little neon trails in the air. It doesn’t wait for an order to attack- she saw nothing but the afterimage of a streak and is hit with a fastball, dense like a dwarf star
“Red dwarfs make up most of the stars in the galaxy” he’d said, laying down on the ground next to her and pointed at the sky. “It’s actually pretty amazing just how rare our sun i-...”
Another hit in the solar plexus drove the wind out of her, it blinks like a firefly, bobbing away lighting-fast and going for her head. 
She lifted her hand and fired a burst of green, wide and imprecise but enough to stun it, she backhands it and it scatters into a dim green mist. 
At first she thought it was over, but the mist still hungin the air, swirling and collecting itself until it formed the shape of a young girl in a lime-green jumpsuit, white haired, green eyed and-
That. That face. 
She knew that face. 
The girl in the mist wavered like a mirage, her face distorted like a funhouse mirror. It hissed wordlessly at her with bulging, mismatched eyes, face sloughing like runny paint. 
There’s no strategy, no clever follow-up. She roared and tackled Three, driving it into the ground with an inhuman shriek.
Whatever flimsy consistency held it together collapses under his fists. Ectoplasm singed his knuckles, each blow molding the creature’s into something blissfully unrecognizable until the shifting, bubbling mass of green- began to reshape itself back into-
“STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!” 
Straddling on top of it, holding it down and phasing with it whenever it tried to slip away, she kept pounding the notmenotmenotme until the mist condenses into the consistency of abused wax, a vaguely human-shaped puddle of bubbling green. 
“Four! Stand down! That’s an order, Four!”
She shoved away the melted arm that tried to reach for her and saw something in the puddle. Another person looking at her, in the reflection of the puddle of what used to be Three. 
That boy again. Young. Too young. Hair chopped short for the backwards tattoo on the side of his head. His face contorted into disgust and horror and fury.
She punches it again. “YOU.”
Again. “AREN’T.”
“ME.”
Pain explodes in Samuel’s fist and he tumbles backwards, clutching it close and biting back a scream in his teeth even as he lands badly. Blind and in the dark.
A light clicks on and he winces, squinting. Legs kicking, trying to push himself upright with only his feet and elbows. 
“Sammy! Sammy!” 
A pair of hands on his shoulders, steadying him. His eyes adjust enough to see Danny, looking strange and bare without his glasses. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe.”
He does his best to follow the advice. He looks around, everything coming back as the last of the haze clears. He’s on the floor in Tucker’s room. It was...it was just a guys’ night: pizza and video games and bad sci-fi movies and talking about thoughts and fears in the safety of the dark. 
Tucker’s standing next to his desk lamp in boxer shorts with cute Lovecraftian monsters on them, blinking owlishly without his contacts. “What’s going on?”
“I...” Samuel looks up and sees a massive crack in the mirror above Tucker’s dresser. A fractured, spiderweb pattern with flecks of green in the center. “I think I was sleepwalking.”
“More like nightmare-punching.” Danny holds out his hand, palm up. “Show me.”
Samuel agrees without thinking, taken off balance by his sudden assertiveness. Danny’s in pajama pants and a hole-ridden Star Trek t-shirt that probably should have been thrown out two years ago. His injured hand is an imitation of a dead spider- curled and twitching. He tries not to jump when Danny’s warm hands take his and turns it over. 
“You’re bleeding.” 
“I’ll be fine. I heal fast.” 
“You should still put it in like...ice or something,” his brow furrows with worry. “Does it hurt?”
“I’ve had worse.” He says, and doesn’t miss the way Danny is looking at the scars on his arm. 
Tucker crouches next to them. Samuel is so crowded by well-meaning concern he is simultaneously chafing under it and willing to do anything to keep them from leaving. “I’m sorry about your mirror.”
He shrugs. “It’ll probably be weeks before either of my parents notice. If they ask I’ll just say I did in like, a fit of hardcore protest against our bullshit appearance-obsessed culture, or something.”
“Does this mean you won’t be wearing make-up, then?” Samuel asks. 
Tucker rolls his eyes and pulls out a black compact from somewhere, which is a feat because he’s still only wearing boxers and it is distracting.”My makeup isn’t to look pretty it’s to rage against the Man, Sammy. Huge dif.”
“Sam?”
Amazingly, Samuel doesn’t wince. “Yeah?”
Danny is still cradling his hurt hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”
From his angle on the floor the mirror is just showing a fractured, broken image of Tucker’s room all thrown in lamplight and midnight shadows. He’s not entirely sure what he’d see if he stood up and looked into it- but he’s grateful that if he had to have a horrible nightmarish flashback, he didn’t do it someplace where the first thing he’d see when he woke up was Samantha’s face. 
“Can we just...stay up for the rest of the night? I don’t really think I can manage sleeping, anymore.”
“Yeah, sure.” Danny smiles at him. “Of course. Anything you want.”
Tucker puts a reassuring hand on Samuel’s shoulder...and using it so he can push himself up and announces. “Welp. In that case, I should probably put on some pants.”
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shiphaussecretsanta · 6 years
Text
Inside Job
gift from @kovntag to @funheist
ship: killems
message: hey nik i kinda went… a little overboard with it (like 3,000 words overboard) but u deserve it + more! i hope you like it ily
Adam can’t really be upset about the whole thing, because the gist of this is going to dinner in a swanky, five star, food-is-too-small-for-the-plate restaurant. That’s the plan at its most basic.
Now, if you wanted to get into specifics, the plan is more complex than that. See, Fakehaus had gotten word that a new, budding crew was encroaching on their space, getting too friendly with crew borders. From word of mouth, the crew was small compared to Fakehaus, four people, maybe. Lawrence had dug up some dirt on them and found that they’d been cobbled together from a now-defunct crew made up of a mostly white collar crime syndicate which had gotten busted not even a year ago. The new crew had risen quickly, gotten a name for themselves by selling their skills in torture to the highest bidder. Then they’d branched out to drugs, hits, anything Fakehaus did.
The plan is James’: get in, bug the place, maybe figure out what the crew wants, and get out.
Adam shifts gears in his bright orange Lamborghini, James buttoning the cuff of his suit beside him. They’re both wearing them, James with a black suit Bruce picked out for him with a blue shirt Matt chose, while Elyse and Lawrence had dressed Adam in his grey suit and black shirt combo, a tie thrown in and everything. His tie is now in the backseat where he’s decided that he doesn’t want to get food or blood on it (if it even comes down to it; in this business, he’s never sure where the night is going to take him).
As they pull up to the restaurant, Adam glances at James, who smiles at him like he knows exactly how the night is going to go.
Adam steps out of the car, walks around to meet James while the valet takes their car. James is still smiling as they stand next to each other in front of the restaurant, and Adam feels a sort of restlessness crawl up his spine.
“Ready?” James asks, almost quiet. Adam feels James’ hand brush past his, in reassurance or tenderness or both.
All Adam does is nod. As they walk up to the restaurant, Adam takes in the small part of the dim room he can see through the glass door. It’s a swanky place alright, but the pictures online didn’t do it justice. The glass doorway is the only window in the place, while the rest of the restaurant seems to reside in a concrete box. The name of the restaurant is scrawled on the side reads Argent in an overly complicated script.
From what little Adam can see, the place is almost packed, so finding their targets is going to prove harder than they anticipated. He just hopes these guys are as big of showboats as Lawrence told them they were going to be.
Before they get to the door, James jogs a little ahead and pulls it open for Adam, an action which makes Adam scoff and roll his eyes before he walks through the open door, James following behind soon after.
“I can open doors, y’know.”
Adam can feel James’ presence behind him as he scoffs, almost mocking, in answer. “Never said you couldn’t, but I am still a gentleman.” He leans in to Adam’s ear. “Sting operation date or not.”
Before Adam can comment on his closeness or even cherish it, James is pulling away and Adam holds back the noise that almost escapes him. The thing is, James and Adam both agreed a few months back that dating wouldn’t be in the crew’s best interest. Relationships complicate things, yeah? So what if they kissed once? They still had an unspoken game of dating chicken. It wasn’t an intentional one, just… Adam told James he didn’t want to complicate their relationship and James respected that. But by now, Adam has acknowledged to himself only that he’s very wrong about that fact. He would date James in a heartbeat. But James is still giving him space, even though Adam is almost sure James knows that Adam wants to go out with him. It’s sweet in one way, annoying in the other, especially with what this night entails.
James pulls away from Adam’s back as if nothing has happened and walks up to the hostess with a smile on his face. He gives the cover name for their reservation and the hostess smiles and proclaims their table is ready, picking up menus before she leads them over to it.
In their walk there, Adam gives the inside a bit of a once-over. Some canned piano music plays while people talk quietly amongst themselves over the small tea candles laid on the tables. Most are pairs with the odd threes or fours but in the corner, between the bar and a wall, a group of six people sits together, all splayed over what looks to be a black and white couch. They’re laughing at something while a blonde man reaches over the table and pours champagne into another man’s cup, this one with long hair in a bun, overflowing it on purpose and watching as the man displays fond irritation.
As they get seated, Adam takes the seat facing the party. The other crew. They really were not hard to find at all. Their mannerisms scream Hey! This place is a front for our illegal business and we’re cocky enough not to hide it!
The hostess asks for any drinks to start them off and James doesn’t even open the menu as he says, “Krug Grande Cuvée, if you have any.”
“Good choice,” the hostess says, smiling at them before promising their waiter will be with them shortly. James almost beams with pride as she leaves, and Adam’s eyes drift from James to the people in the corner again.
James leans his elbows on the table, lays his chin in his hands, as if fawning over Adam. “So?” He asks, blinking at him slowly.
“There’s six of them,” Adam murmurs.
“No,” James pouts briefly. “I meant, what did you think of my champagne knowledge?”
“Oh, that was champagne?”
James sighs, exasperated. “I wouldn’t have asked you out if I knew you didn’t appreciate the finer things in life.”
Adam lets his eyes shift back to James. He lifts an eyebrow and says, “You didn’t ask me out, though.”
“It was my plan.”
“And then Bruce asked me out for you.”
“Yeah but who told Bruce?” James taps the side of his head with his finger. “You gotta look at the bigger picture, Adam.”
“Which is what? You were afraid to ask me out on a fake date?”
James shakes his head. “No! Papa Bruce just helped me by suggesting you come with me.”
“Ah. Still unsure what the bigger picture is.”
Adam watches as James leans back in his chair and unbuttons his suit jacket. His eyes are soft as he says, “I’unno yet. Guess we’ll figure it out together.”
The weight James’ words carry make Adam nervous, or maybe Adam is reading too much into them. Either way, he clears his throat and jokes, “Hope you know I’ll be rating this fake date at the end of it.”
“Ooo,” James straightens up in his chair. “Better make a good impression then.”
Adam thinks he’s joking but James reaches a hand out, lays it on the table, palm upturned, as if asking for Adam’s hand. Adam hesitates to lift his hand to meet it but he thinks twice, says to himself, It’s a job. This time, it’s just a job. Not the real thing, not… yet. He lays his hand on top of James’, fingers hesitant as James turns his hand, links their fingers together, smiles at Adam warmly. God, he hopes James doesn’t think this is just a job, because this is going to affect Adam one way or another. But, for now, and because Adam prides himself on being a professional, he does not dwell on how good James’ eyes look in conjunction with his shirt.
As Adam dwells on not dwelling on James’ eyes, their waiter walks up, champagne bottle in hand. He greets them and shows the bottle to James, who gives the label a once over while his thumb absently traces circles on Adam’s hand. James nods in approval and the waiter pours the drinks, Adam letting his eyes drift back over to the group in the corner. As he watches, he thinks of their half-baked plan. When Lawrence pulled up what little pictures they had of the crew, none of them recognized them, so it was a safe bet to go undercover with minimal cover. Bruce still insisted on parking the rest of the crew in a van in the alley around the corner, much to James’ complaining. So they were covered, in theory. Adam still had to call Bruce if anything happened. Which nothing would, because as he watches the other crew out of the corner of his eye, he definitely does not recognize any of them, which is weird. The crew is new but the money is not, apparently. They have this place, which doesn’t seem like it came cheap at all. But it’s their hub for anything, and so, here Fakehaus is.
They’re flashy, Lawrence was right about that. They have gold on their necks and logos shining on their clothes. Adam lets his eyes drift to the corner of their table and is almost startled when he catches a bearded man staring back at him, eyes discerning, a worn backwards ball cap on his head clashing with his expensive-looking suit. Before Adam can break off eye contact, the man looks away, showing no emotion on his face as he does. The man looks back to his group as Adam goes back to looking at James.
With a shock, he realizes their hands are still clasped between them. He makes a conscious effort to take his hand away and to play it off as casual, his hand going for his glass of champagne. James doesn’t say anything about it, but rather, grabs his own glass and holds it out for a toast. After they’ve clinked, James looks at Adam over the rim of his glass, his eyes holding some sort of feeling in them. A feeling that Adam isn’t sure is genuine yet. God, Adam is going to make it through tonight if it kills him.
The food turns out to be good. Really good. Adam is sad that the portions are so small and a little angry that this crew’s place is actually turning out some quality and legitimate shit. Why are these guys in the crime business if the restaurant business is going so well for them? Beats the fuck out of Adam, but he isn’t about to start questioning motives.
Halfway through their second course, some steak for Adam and fish for James, James holds out his fork for Adam to taste some again, like he had for their appetizer round. And Adam can’t find it in himself to roll his eyes again so he just leans in and lets James feed him, biting into the fish and potatoes. It’s extremely good. Adam avoids moaning.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees movement at the crew’s table. With his eyes fixed on James, Adam tracks the man who gets up, watching through his periphery as he walks across the salon and heads down the hallway to the bathroom. Adam swallows his bite and wipes his mouth with his napkin, says, “Bathroom,” hopes James understands his unspoken message.
The hallway is substantially quieter than the salon. He hears the sound of it die down behind him as he scans the hallway and its closed doors, the dim lighting not helping him in this case. He thinks he hears a man’s voice coming from the last door, a suspicion that’s confirmed when the man with the baseball cap comes out of it, turning out the light before he closes the door without locking it. The man is on the phone, distracted it seems, and Adam takes it as an opportunity. He slips a hand into his pants pocket and feels for the bug that Lawrence made for them. Adam watches as the man walks down the hallway, not even sparing a glance at Adam as he passes, murmuring heatedly about “No, it has to be tomorrow, at the warehouse,” while Adam makes his move, hoping and praying that the man doesn’t notice as Adam slips the bug into his blazer pocket.
Adam doesn’t stick around to see if he made him or not. He just slips into the bathroom and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees it’s empty.
Before he can lock himself in a stall, his phone rings, startling him, just a little. The caller ID says Bruce and he sighs, hates that he has to do this but the guy could still be here, be outside the door. Adam still isn’t in the clear. So he answers his phone and says, “Uh… hey, dad.”
He can’t tell if Bruce is amused by the prospect of being called dad or not. All Bruce asks is, “Are they there?”
“Yeah.” Adam replies, remembering what little coded speak Fakehaus has. “Sixth of June, I think?”
“Six at a table?” Bruce repeats back to him, understanding. “Do any of them suspect you?”
“I don’t think so, dad. And I don’t know if I can visit yet.”
“Okay, eyes everywhere, but you’re okay. Listen, Lawrence mapped the place out and Elyse can get in and bug the manager’s office. You need to make a distraction.”
Adam furrows his brow. “Is mom going to like that?”
“Elyse’ll be quick, in and out. She needs five minutes, tops.”
“Yeah, I’m doing it. Pretty soon, too. We’re about to have dessert.”
“Suit pocket, you should have a ring in it.”
Wait, what? Adam resists the urge to touch his breast pocket. A what?
Because Adam doesn’t say anything, Bruce sounds persuasive as he bargains, “It’ll buy us some time, Adam.”
Adam flits through annoyance, exasperation, tiredness, before accepting his fate. “Thanks for mom’s ring, dad. I’m just nervous to do it in front of so many people.”
“You’ll be fine,” Bruce sounds like he’s smiling. “Do it at exactly 10 o’clock, regardless of if you’re eating dessert or not.”
“Okay dad. I love you. Text you when it’s done.”
Bruce’s answering goodbye is sickly sweet, saying, “Bye, sweetheart.”
He hangs up and realizes, he hates Bruce, just a little. He stares at his phone while it flashes 9:50 pm up to him and he realizes he hates Bruce a lot.
Pocketing his phone, Adam heaves a sigh. God, he feels nervous. More nervous than he should. Now, he feels into his suit pocket and locates the ring, which is a simple, silver band. Jesus, he’s really gotta do this, huh?
As he walks out of the bathroom, he thinks about proposals. He doesn’t think the time he proposed to Bruce as a way of scamming the government for money as an actual marriage proposal, mostly because they were drunk and young. So, basically, he’s gotta wing this thing. Fuck, okay.
Before he gets to their table, he locates their waiter and pulls him aside to say, “Hey, I’m about to propose to my… partner. Can you turn the music down or something?”
The look of enthusiasm their waiter gives makes Adam even more nervous, if that’s even possible. The waiter scurries off to the back of the restaurant and Adam braces himself. He checks his phone. 9:53. Okay. He can do this.
Adam walks back to the table, noticing that James has already finished with his food. Adam’s food sits almost untouched but he can’t even think about eating now. God, why is he so nervous? It’s just something that’s necessary to the job! It won’t be real.
He sits down stiffly. James gives him a concerned look which Adam shakes his head at. He positions his phone beside him. 9:55.
The music over the speakers dies down and the chatter around them dies down a bit with it. Adam shakes himself.
James leans in and lowers his voice as he asks, “Is the cat okay?” Were you made? in coded.
“Cat’s fine. It’s about something else.” 9:57.
Their waiter picks up their plates and asks about dessert. Adam shakes his head at the same time James nods and the waiter looks between them. Adam clarifies, “After.” The waiter nods knowingly while James looks so confused.
When the waiter leaves, James leans in again, eyes even more concerned. Asks, “Are you okay?”
Adam nods again. 9:59. He gets up abruptly and James looks at him like he’s seriously considering calling in Bruce to help with whatever is happening right now.
Adam clears his throat and says, loud enough that the people around him will hear, “Honey, I….” He gulps and finds his knees stiff and he gets down on one knee beside their table. James’ face morphs from concern to surprise.
“Honey.” Adam says again, speaking loudly so that he’s sure he has people’s attention. The restaurant is mildly quieter, so he thinks it’s working. He continues, “It’s been four years since we met,” Adam remembers it clearly, smiles to himself. “Unexpectedly, you came into my life. But, definitely for the better. It’s been such a joy to watch you grow so much. We both have grown, you and I, partners in crime.” At that, Adam watches as James suppresses a laugh. “And now, I want to continue to grow with you. For a while if you’ll have me. So, I ask,” He holds out the ring. “Will you marry me?”
James’ eyes are shining when Adam finishes. The salon is incredibly quiet, save for the quiet clattering of plates.
James sounds so fond when he says, “Of course I will, baby.”
Adam lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He slips the ring onto the hand James offers and stands as James stands, finding himself enveloped in a hug by him. He laughs a little breathlessly, hearing the people around them give them some applause. God, who knew fake proposing to your crush would be so hard?
When they settle back into their chairs, the people in the tables next to them share congratulations. Adam feels happy, in that moment. James looks at him like he hasn’t ever seen a better person than Adam. Adam glances back to the corner where the other crew sits, looking at them while they talk amongst themselves. They’re smiling, and even the man with beard raises a glass up at them. Adam smiles, keeping up his cover and hoping he really hasn’t been made, when their waiter comes back dutifully and offers them dessert. James orders one dessert for them and asks for two spoons. Adam smiles at the prospect.
When their dessert comes, James picks up a spoon and leans in, asks in a hushed voice. “Bruce told you to do that?”
Adam nods, picking up a spoon and speaking as quiet as he can as he says, “Distraction for Elyse.”
James hums and digs into their cake. They both have a bite before James speaks again, his voice soft as he asks, “Did you mean that speech?”
Adam shrugs. He pokes at the cake, feeling like he shouldn’t say anything but opening his mouth anyway, “Yes. Maybe not the marriage part yet.”
James’ smile is sly as he brings a piece of cake up to his mouth. “Yet?”
“It’s our first date. Think it’s a little early to talk about so much commitment.”
“Oop. Don’t wanna scare the baby!”
Adam kicks him softly under the table. Finds his foot stays tangled between James’ after he’s done.
The restaurant gives them a discount on their dessert but the bill is still very high.
When they leave, they tip the valet guy and drive around the block, taking a convoluted route to get back to the stakeout van where they’re supposed to meet. Adam leaves the car a street over and they walk to the van, waving to Matt who sits in the driver’s seat.
Bruce opens the door in the back after James knocks and asks, “How’d it go?”
“Great,” James says as he climbs into the van. “Got a ring I can pawn off now.” He flashes his hand to James and Elyse who nod appreciatively while Adam gives Bruce his best (fake) annoyed look. Bruce just rolls his eyes at him and helps him in the van, closes the door.
They settle in as Bruce asks, “Was the whole crew there?”
Adam shrugs, “I think so. They were partying it up big time. Two women and four men, but there could be more. The place was packed, Bruce. You wouldn’t think it’s a cover.”
James chimes in with, “Maybe it wasn’t. The food was so good, I—”
That’s when Lawrence cuts in, his voice nervous as he pulls off his headphones. “Guys? You might want to hear this.”
He unplugs the headphones and turns up the volume on the laptop.
“—haus?” A voice floods the van. “Fakehaus, hello? Are you there?” Adam’s eyes widen when he realizes he recognizes the voice. He heard it earlier, in the hallway, when he dropped the bug in the man’s pocket and the man walked past, speaking— “Hope you are, because if you aren’t that’d be unfortunate. Anyway, don’t know what your play was but your burglar left our window unlocked and your bug guy looked nervous. Was that proposal real, by the way? Looked real. If it wasn’t, it was convincing as hell. Hey, maybe you just came here to our restaurant in our turf to propose to each other. Some sort of weird power move. But, whatever. Just, if you want to talk, we’ll be here. Come visit us, it’ll be fun. Hope something is recording this because that’d be a waste. Okay, goodnight!” The bug sounds like it’s dropped or mishandled before it goes dead.
Adam stares at Lawrence’s equipment in abject horror.
“Well.” James says. “Cat’s out.”
Bruce stifles a laugh.
“Wait,” Lawrence says, “Picking something up on the bug Elyse left.” He taps a few keys on his laptop and fiddles with the equipment before another voice comes through the speakers, a different man speaking, saying, “Fake Chop crew, out!” The bug goes dead, too.
Adam leans against the wall of the van while James scrubs a hand down his face. Bruce shakes his head. “Jeez.”
“What just happened?” Elyse asks.
James replies, “I think we just got played.”
Now, Bruce actually laughs. “Elyse, go tell Matt we gotta go. You two,” he motions to Adam and James. “Work out your prenup later.”
Adam glares at him just a little as Elyse climbs out of the back. As Matt turns on the van and starts driving, James shuffles over to sit in front of Adam. Adam notes how Bruce leaves Adam’s side and settles into the other side of the van.
James asks, “Prenup?”
Adam shakes his head. “I’ll just take the ring back.”
“Ouch,” James says but takes off the ring anyway, plays with it in his hands. Says, “Instead of a prenup, how about a second date?”
Adam pretends not to notice Bruce and Lawrence staring at them. He replies, “One condition. We don’t go back to that place.”
James huffs a laugh. “That’s a hard yes.”
Smiling, Adam says, “Then it’s a hard yes.”
“Stop talking about being hard!” Lawrence cuts in while Bruce laughs. James throws him the ring to shut him up but it just makes the laughter peak.
God, his crew is made up of assholes. Adam just makes a mental note to ask Bruce about the totally unplanned ring in his suit jacket later. He has an inkling of whose idea it was and the answer probably rhymes with everybody in the fucking crew.
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ganymedesclock · 7 years
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Why do you think Shiro changed his appearance in season 3 if he's not a clone? Is he trying to distance himself from the trauma?
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So here’s actually why I like this design:
The main things that change are Shiro is wearing lighter, more breathable clothing. He’s swapped out his vest for a similar one but the main difference is the shorter sleeve and different glove. This actually makes the lines between his prosthetic and his remaining arm more balanced across his body- since the sleeve ends at the same height both sides.
The white tuft is shorter and the rest of his hair is uniform now, rather than shorter below and slightly longer on top. White tuft is still super obvious, but, it’s now up and out of his face.
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Shiro’s old look with the longer hair makes him look older, not really in a good way- not “more mature” as much as “carrying a lot more than he has any business to be at 25″.
And he still is, but what I’m struck by about the new look is that it imparts a kind of boyish softness to him. And I think that’s super important because at this point the most destructive miscommunication between Shiro and his team has been that nearly everyone puts Shiro on this kind of Important Pedestal.
Keith idolizes him, he’s Lance’s personal hero, to Pidge he’s the last link she has to her missing family members and she rapidly starts trusting and relying on him in the show. Hunk looks up to him, too, though that’s a little more quiet.
But I think a lot about the comic episode where Pidge has to fight the whole team at once, she gives a fairly accurate and unbiased report about everyone.... except Shiro.
Shiro is not an unstoppable god. He’s not that much better of a fighter than the rest of the team. Pidge doesn’t actually detail any of his strengths or weaknesses or even his general fighting style, just basically, “it’s Shiro, you can’t fight Shiro, he’s Shiro.”
This is perceptive bias in motion. Shiro’s arm isn’t the only thing exploitable without delving into shady mindfudgery as Sendak and Haggar did.
Shiro’s a fast, maneuverable fighter who uses his environment a lot, zigzags frequently, but unless something affords itself to be used as a weapon, he’s only able to attack anything that’s within an absurdly close range. Proportionately to his body, his reach is even shorter than Pidge’s!
His greatest stat is his tenacity, which basically means he’ll rapidly catch himself, catch his breath, and continuously rush a target, so, Pidge was right to take out Lance, because, Lance and Shiro together is a nightmare combo from hell, in that Shiro won’t give you more than seconds to breathe and Lance will be picking you off as soon as Shiro has you distracted. Sendak has no idea the bullet he dodged that Lance was out of commission in s1e4.
Obviously Pidge isn’t going to outlast Shiro but she’s ironically one of the few people who could actually trip him up with another big thing:
Shiro sticks his limbs out when he’s fighting. All the time. He doesn’t stay compact for a lot of his movements, but uses big sweeping, lashing ones- thematically appropriate for the paladin of air and sky.
Y’know what this means?
Someone who’s good at trapping limbs, like Ezor, or who has a tripwire or lashing cord like the one built directly into Pidge’s bayard could give Shiro a hell of a time by letting him make one of those big sweeping strikes and then hooking the exposed limbs. And yeah, there’s the extra catch that one of his arms is basically tipped with a welding knife, but to get back to topic:
This is obvious. There’s no reason Pidge, who admits to having gathered data on her teammates, wouldn’t be able to spot Shiro’s tendency to leave himself open to grappling. Hell, given the arena and the average size of most aliens, galra especially, there’s an added thing of Shiro’s completely unused to fighting opponents smaller than him!
Basically, Pidge is letting the way that she sees Shiro fundamentally cloud her awareness of him as a person. And this has been a problem.
The team often looks towards Shiro as this kind of beacon and ideal of a person. He’s their paragon, and I’m not saying he doesn’t live up to the hype.
But Shiro’s also been more or less limping along at substandard quality of life because he has a head full of nightmares that is not just going to go away if he gives it time. And fighting desperately for these things, privately and away from the others, is giving him victories- but tiny ones. He hasn’t really won peace of mind.
And he isn’t going to, as long as he doesn’t key into the wisdom of the Black Lion and properly rely on his limbs. Shiro’s locked in the mindset of, well...
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Exactly where he was in his trauma: You’re cornered, you can’t rely on anyone, don’t expect people to help you, brace yourself, put on a scary face, don’t tell anyone you’re scared.
Except season 3 is challenging this.
Because coming back to the team, Shiro literally didn’t have the energy to stand. He was on the verge of running out of oxygen capping off several days of starving and dehydrating. They probably had to carry him to a healing pod.
The team’s image of Shiro as a paragon- one that he’s desperately performing to try and escape the image he has of himself as a monster- has been obstructing them from seeing him as someone who needs help. As someone who like anybody else in this party, has vulnerabilities that their enemies and surroundings might be preying on.
So how does this all come back to the new look?
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It’s making us very literally see Shiro differently.
I think that it makes the team see him differently.
Because now suddenly Shiro looks a lot more like a punk kid in this party of punk kids that’s way in over their head. He’s older than most of them, and this still shows, but what’s coming to the surface is Shiro’s vulnerable side.
Something that was emphasized harshly in s3e5 because we see, over and over again, significantly, not that Shiro’s determination and stamina are carrying him to wonderful things, but just how bleak, and desperate, and near-miss it is if all you have to try and keep you going is determination because you don’t really have any faith left.
We see the effort and strain it takes for Shiro to keep standing back up again. That it’s heroic he keeps doing it- but heartbreaking he keeps having to.
So this is why I don’t think the takeaway is “This Shiro is fake.” Because this is something terribly, horribly important here.
I think what the new look says is that Shiro is being more honest about his fragility, and that’s a huge piece of character development we don’t completely have yet, but we’re moving in that direction.
And I really don’t want to see, under any reason, Shiro snapping back to his old look from this- because that’d be a step backward, him closing back off when everything he needs is about opening up and letting himself breathe.
As far as in-universe from Shiro’s perspective, it could very well be he just sort of felt like a change/if he’s cutting his hair anyway, getting fresh clothes on probably feels really nice after he’s been in either a prisoner uniform or that junky space suit the two rebel guys had lying around. I don’t think it really has a lot of thought into it from Shiro’s perspective, but from the writers? Absolutely. 
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sqgt-blog · 6 years
Text
Classic Sonic Levels Ranked: #69 - 61
69. Lost Labyrinth - Sonic 4: Episode 1
It stands to reason that Sonic 4′s take on Labyrinth Zone would be godawful, but ironically, it’s for completely different reasons. Acts 1 and 2 are completely devoid of water! You instead have to wade through some of the most terrible gimmicks in the series. Act 1 is a very long gauntlet of boulders that suddenly appear behind you, drop over pits, and the worst ones of all: the ones that you have to keep balance on as they roll over bottomless pits. Act 2 is different depending on whether you’re playing the console or mobile version. The mobile version is the infamous gimmick minecart level, which is tilt controlled. You basically tilt right to win and occasionally jump. The console version’s Act 2 is thankfully a regular platforming level, but one filled with blocky torchlight puzzles, and not the fun kind. On top of that, you get to ride a button controlled minecart in some sections. Act 3 is the only one similar to Labyrinth Zone, and the only act in the game with water. It’s an even worse version of Labyrinth Zone, now with segments where Sonic randomly curls up in his ball form and somehow floats in the water, and you have to tilt the level to force a block out of the way without tilting Sonic into some spikes. It kills the little flow the level already has. The boss is at least the most original in the game. The first phase is the same as the original Labyrinth chase, but then Eggman engages you in battle with crushing pillars. These are actually well enough telegraphed where it isn’t too hard of a boss.
68. Labyrinth - Sonic 1
I honestly don’t mind Labyrinth much but it is a slog of a level. To be fair, this was the first water level in a series with unusual gameplay so I probably would have made the same mistakes back then. What Labyrinth screws up is that the level is 100% blocky platforming and is almost entirely underwater, filled with dangerous traps. There are also almost no alternate paths. It doesn’t play to any of Sonic’s strengths at all. Later water levels in the series would use the water as a punishment for failing to stay above it, but would always let you recover and reach the surface, eliminating Labyrinth’s biggest sin. Not helping things is the boss, which is just chasing Eggman up a flooding tunnel full of spears. The game designers probably figured no boss they could make would be as difficult as Labyrinth Zone, and they were right!
67. Wacky Workbench - Sonic CD
I considered ranking this level last, but unlike Labyrinth Zone, there is one saving grace: with skillful play you can avoid the shitty gimmick. Wacky Workbench is designed around an electrifying floor, and if you touch it, it bounces you extremely high up, usually into a vertical shaft that you have to climb back down to make any progress again. The badniks and electric cables are also very annoying and placed in some cheap spots. Also, Act 1′s robot generator is hidden in a super cheap spot. Turns out those crushers aren’t crushers, but are warp tubes, and one of them takes you to the robot generator! Almost as an apology, Act 2′s is right at the beginning of the level. The boss is actually pretty cool: Eggman drills through the ceiling, and to follow him you need to climb up some blocks that the floor bounces up to reach the next level. It’s a pretty decent challenge and is very creative.
66. EGG Station - Sonic 4: Episode 1
Like every zone in Sonic 4 Episode 1, EGG Station picks a zone from Sonic 1 or 2 to rip off. The final zone thus rips off 2′s Death Egg. Here, you fight every boss again, now with less health but already in pinch mode. This is made incredibly aggravating by the choice of music, the boss pinch theme which is a five second loop. The boss rush is capped off by another Death Egg Robot, with some key differences. This time you get three rings to fight him, and he doesn’t have wonky hitboxes this time, making him much easier; until you hit him 16 times, upon which he shields himself with electricity and stops pulling punches. He rockets them instead, forcing you to knock his hands back at him to temporarily lower his electric shield. His third and final phase only takes one hit, but failure to hit him after he jumps and lands will cause him to destroy the floor, killing you instantly. He’s actually kind of a decent boss, he just overstays his welcome, and his not-Death Egg Robot theme is pretty lame.
65. Metropolis - Sonic 2
Metropolis is the most hated level in Sonic 2, and with good reason. Every enemy in this zone is out for your blood. Whether it’s the punching crab Shellcracker with his unfair hitbox, the exploding Asteron placed next to the vertical screws where he will knock you all the way down, or the dreaded Slicer who can snipe you anywhere on screen with his boomerang scythes, all of these badniks are placed in the worst possible spots imaginable. The worst part, however, is that Metropolis is three acts long instead of two. On top of being super cheap, it also overstays its welcome, a cardinal sin for Sonic levels. The boss is also pretty hard to not get hit by, thanks to the hitboxes on his orbiting balloons and how close he circles them around him. With rings he’s still pretty easy, but I couldn’t imagine fighting him without any rings.
64. Oil Ocean - Sonic 2
The first six zones in Sonic 2 are an absolute joy to play through and never get old. Unfortunately, Sonic 2′s level design takes a massive dive in quality after Mystic Cave and never recovers. Oil Ocean is the seventh zone and is marks the point where I don’t feel like playing anymore. Oil Ocean is one of the coolest looking and sounding levels in the series, a surreal oil refinery with Arabian music. It’s also a tedious maze where you never feel like you’re making progress. The fans from Star Light Zone return to keep you from running forward, usually right after you exit one of the fifty elevator shafts. You also wind up going backwards a lot. There are also cannon setpieces that are cool for about two seconds before they overstay their welcome, as they drag on forever and tend to place you further backwards in the zone. At least the oil slides are fun.
63. Marble - Sonic 1
Sonic 1 has amazing gameplay, and levels that do not take advantage of said amazing gameplay. Marble Zone, the second zone, is one of them. Thankfully it isn’t hard (though it is a spike from Green Hill Zone). It is, however, a massive killjoy. Marble Zone is almost entirely devoid of slopes and alternate paths, the two key things that make a Sonic level, and is instead filled with very slow paced and blocky platforming. Like Labyrinth Zone, it is the complete antithesis of what makes Sonic fun, but it’s much easier and doesn’t have water which makes it that much more tolerable. Still though, placing it as the second level was not a good idea.
62. Wing Fortress - Sonic 2
This is the final regular level in Sonic 2, and the hardest one by far. What the level lacks in badniks it makes up for in dickish level design. There’s a lot of cool gimmicks in this level like propellers that you can hover above, wall panels to cling to, floor boosters (which are unfortunately very glitchy and will probably kill you). It feels climactic but doesn’t really feel that fun, just kind of brutal. Thankfully, it’s really short, on top of being a one act level. The boss is the hardest in the game too, and this is right before the two final bosses fought with no rings. It’s a laser in the ceiling that you can only hit by climbing on some small platforms with spikes on the bottom. It isn’t too difficult, but if you aren’t too careful it can be easy to get hit since the spike platforms fly right over each other.
61. White Park - Sonic 4: Episode 2
White Park is the most original zone in Sonic 4, and unfortunately the most tragic. Act 1 is the only act that feels well designed. It’s a pretty fun winter level with some cool gimmicks, and makes cool use of the Rolling Combo to plow through snow. Act 2 is visually the best level in the game and has an awesome roller coaster theme. It’s also the series’ most hold right to win level yet. Literally the only change of pace in this level comes from automatic spring segments and some crushing walls here and there. Act 3, however, is why White Park is ranked so low. It is the single worst level in 2D Sonic history, with nothing redeeming about it. Act 3 is a cave almost entirely underwater where you have to use the Swimming Combo to narrowly dodge sea lion badniks that freeze gigantic portions of the water. The worst part is at the very end, where you have to quickly swim through a gauntlet of these sea lion badniks or they’ll trap you, forcing you to kill yourself by drowning or nearby spikes. Even the music is complete garbage. Thankfully the boss redeems things a bit. It’s a cool battle with Metal Sonic on top of the roller coaster tracks in Act 2. He can homing attack the tracks to destroy them, make lighting walls to fly over, and other attacks. He can be very cheap but this is a genuinely cool battle.
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one from every category for whoever you like: 3, 26, 50, 72, 89
oh boy. 
idk who you are but you took the bait and now i’m NEVER gonna shut up
3 What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?
oh this is going to be fun as most of my characters don’t use their actual name to avoid the government 
Nox
her name is the same as the roman goddess for night she doesn't have any nicknames yet other then Nox. unfortunately I haven’t figured out what her given name is yet lol
Bai
her name means white. cause she’s albino. ha.ha. i’m so original 🙃 her nickname is little boy blue or lbb on missions or fancy pants when out and about
NotBa
his name means not your dad. :^) his real name is Ezichiel.
Massa
her name is the same as the location for the first Mosque in Africa with the last 2 letters dropped. Her given name is Yusra which means ease or comfort
Hansen
his name means son of Hans. his nickname is Diao which can mean a lot of different things, cool guy, artful, bird of pray.... dick. oh Diao... the twins may have given you this name but that doesn't mean its free of malice...
The Twins
Bigs and Lil’ both are nicknames made up by Bigs about who’s the older sister. (hint: it’s not Bigs) their actual names are Lilly or Baihe (Lil’) and Camillia or Chahua (Bigs)
Alma
her name means kind soul or little girl. she has no nicknames. too pure too good. can’t go on recon missions I love her.
Pegan
their name means that they are a godless heathen just the way they were meant to be. that is their name now. fuck you if you want to change that.
Glitch
see Pegan
Camp
see Glitch
26  Are they aware of their flaws?
Nox
unfortunately no which really stresses her out 
Bai
Nope. sister is clueless but when she does become aware she works her best to correct them
NotBa
He’s painfully aware. it’s killed people in the past.
Massa
she is mostly unaware of her flaws and often thinks she is peak person but if Nox ever actually gets out of her own head to point them out she’d start working on them in a heartbeat
Hansen
surprisingly yes. does he know how to solve the issue ? no. is he stuck in a screaming loop of self hatred over this ? who knows. he’s not gonna tell you.
The Twins
acutely, they are both kids still and haven’t had much time to self reflect but i’d say they are both well on their way to being the most well rounded individuals
Alma
she is perfect. what are you saying ? 
Pegan
yep. that’s why they need others around to balance it all out.
Glitch
see Pegan.
Camp
see Glitch.
50 How would you describe their style of clothing? How would they describe their style of clothing? 
Nox
Nox wears an interesting assortment of shitty clothes you could probably find at hot topic in the scene section but only if you excavated it from a 100 year old dumpster and then hit it with your car. she loves wearing yellow but needs to wear darker colors to sneaky better. she’s a thief at heart and half her clothes are either cut up with a knife to help with the summer heat or stitched together to help with the windy winters
she’d describe her style as one that gets the job done. 
Bai
Bai wears a sort of neo-ming dynasty style. A lot of the clothing is very flowy and reminiscent of one of the last great chinese empires back when their culture was “without corruption”. a political fashion that evolved from Beijing specifically to raise national pride post war as part of their cultural growth efforts. her favorite colours are soft blues accented with purples.
she would describe her style as elegant and modest.
NotBa
NotBa wears patched up clothes, often pieces of his old peace corps uniform that are well worn and soft he has a sweater that he absolutely loves to death. Cable knit and comfortable as all hell. he’s almost always wearing his Kippa and tzitzit. his favorite colours are dark green and cream colours
he would say his style is a reminder to him about his past and his promises for the future. except his sweater. he fuckin loves that sweater
Massa
Massa wears clothes that are more so something you might find in the 90′s dull pinks, blues and purples accented with her turquoise scarf that she pulls up for prayer. she often wears pull over fleecy sweaters with a zipper that ends around her chest. you know the one.
She would describe her style as functional but colorful
Hansen
Hansen wears yoga capris he stitched pockets on to create cargos. that’s all you need to know about him. he is horrible and every day I have to spend thinking about him is a day robbed from me.
He would say he has the best style. functional, comfortable and unique.
The Twins
Bigs wears a worn out backwards baseball cap (cause she is a cool 90′s kid and a little bby buch lesbian) almost always while rocking that good old blue rainboots, shorts, sweater combo. Lil’ has a hair clip with a plastic flower on it (again think 90s for these kids) she at least tucks her zip off cargo pants into her pink rainboots but makes up for her common sense by leaving her coat tied around her waist almost always so she’s running around in a tank top all the time. Bigs loves wearing blues and darker colours while Lil’ loves pinks and softer colours.
they would both say their styles suit them just fine and if you have anything to say about it they don’t care.
Alma
Alma loves flowy skirts and stripes, she often wears a striped long sleeved shirt paired with a tea length skirt and work boots. she often wears thermal leggings to fight off the cold because of this but she doesn't care. she feels cute. she loves to wear soft and light greens and darker colors or black. a pencil is almost always tucked into her braids and if she hasn’t already added pockets to her outfit she’s wearing her pocket belt. made from an old army jacket.
She would discribe her style as not very practical but pretty.
Pegan
Pegan learned how to sew as a child and oh my god. you can tell. think punk queer trash meets high fashion but make it functional. They love to take formal wear rip it apart and add fishnets or a tear away skirt or just mix men's and women's fasion. They are a drag performer after all. Pegan also wears heavy heavy makeup most of the time to help fool the facial recognition technology littered throughout the city.
They would discribe their style as incredibly practical and calculated. Everything they wear has a reason
Glitch
Glitch wears a lot of black accented with neon blues. Think scene but also hacker geek chic and you have glitch. Zei also have to make a lot of zeir clothes comfortable to wear while using a chair and Pegan is usually more then happy to help.
Zei would discribe zeir style as being very fasion and not to much function. Zei are all about the aesthetics
Camp
Camp wears a lot of loose clothing especially pants but prefers a tighter shirt. turtle necks are also a big thing in his wardrobe even if it's a sleeveless one.
He has no idea how to discribe his style he's blind. Comfortable for him and it makes all the wrong people uncomfortable which is just a bonus to him.
72 would they rather have stability or comfort?
Oh fuck
Nox
For her it's the same thing. To be stable is to be comfortable
Bai
Comfort. She's stupid rich. She dosen't know what instability is.
NotBa
Comfort. Stability can follow but he just wants to rest. This man is so. Fucking. Tired.
Massa
Stability. See Nox.
Hansen
Comfort. He has had one of the more stable up bringings having been with Notba the longest and would like to feel some of that sweet sweet comfort.
The Twins
Stability. They are the newest to the haven and are still getting used to it all
Alma
Comfort. See Hansen.
Pegan
To be comfortable is to be stable. They are one in the same.
Glitch
Comfort. For glitch having all their acess needs met with less work would be much more welcome then stability any day.
Camp
Stability. He had some of the most unstable upbringings you can imagine. He'd like to feel what it's like to have both feet on solid ground for once.
89 what is their dnd alignment?
Ok now I KNOW who sent this...
Nox
True neutral I'd say. She's ok with doing stuff with the law if it fits her situation but she has 0 issues breaking it too. Has no strong feelings about the government as she dosen't really have time to think about it. She just needs to survive.
Bai
Chaotic good. This girl grew up sheltered but then someone pegan told her what crime was and she has never looked back she goes hard for the resistance and gives no shits that they were resisting her like 3 minutes ago. Fuck the system.
NotBa
Lawful good. This man. He is so tired. He will turn a blind eye to your crimes and pretend he has no idea what is going on but you can not pay him to commit a crime. Lit.er.ally.
Massa
Chaotic nuteral. She does what will benefit her the most while causing a little chaos along the way. As a treat.
Hansen
Lawful neutral. He does what will benefit him and his family and will do so in a way that causes the least amount of trouble.
The Twins
Chaotic good. These girls know what is UP. They hate the government. They want it to go DOWN they will break every law they can on the way to doing it.
Alma
Lawful neutral. She can not legally commit a crime except existing I guess but she has no strong feelings either way about the government. Mainly because she spends almost all of her time in the haven
Pegan
Chaotic good. You can fit so many felonies into this bad them. *slaps ass like a car hood* Pegan helps lead the resistance. They love crimes and being a criminal. Everything they do is a crime. Their clothes? Stolen. The money they have? It's from sex work. The bagel they are eating? Made in an illigal bakery that follows religious laws which are illigal with the money that they got from doing illigal things. Gay rights !
Glitch
Neutral good. Won't go out of zir way to commit a crime and prefers to play it by the book but also fuck the government you feel ?
Camp
Lawful neutral. If pressed will commit a crime but frankly it makes him anxious and he would really rather stay home and make soup.
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The Boyz are RIGHT HERE
I’m screaming The Boyz comeback was so wild. Like no joke I watched the MV at 0.5 and 0.75 speed just to process everything I was seeing. 
List of my favourite things:
Haknyeon kicking us off yesss
Juyeon, Kevin and Hwall being rude in like the first 0.03 seconds of the MV (I’m pretty sure Hwall winked)
Q kicking off the vocals part - what a multi-talented boi (if you haven’t seen his solo intro stage at INK : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXb-c4_WmSY go watch it will CHANGE YOU)
Hyunjae winking and fucking me up with his lovely voice
GIVE THE STYLISTS A RAISE:
First of all, The Boyz look way more natural and un-white-washed (compared to Keeper where they were pretty pale) and they be glowing
The blue and black plaid? The white almost lab-coat like jackets with white t-shirts tucked black pants?? The whITE-TSHIRTS tuCKED inTO BLACK JEANS WITH WHITe CAPS???? BLESS
HWALL IN A BACKWARDS BLACK CAP, A BLACK TOP WITH FLAMES ON IT, SUSPENDERS AND BLACK RIPPED JEANS IS A FUCKING SUPERIOR LOOK
Sunwoo’s deep voice got me right in the feels
That stamping dance they do in cannon at the chorus is so sick - the choreography for the song is WILD.  Everything from the formation changes to the hip thrusts to the jumping/spinning is crazy
Hwall and Eric’s little interaction dance 
Hwall was feeling himself the whole video - GO CRAZY LAD.  I’m so happy he’s back. Toning down on the lip biting would be appreciated tho.
Sunwoo siNGING
Kevin’s vocals are so good - and his voice is pretty unique (at least I can always tell when it’s him singing)
ERIC WHAT these maknaes be wilding - I was hoping he’d get a few more lines but he had some good moments in the centre and his rap was gr8. Also that side shot of him and his jawline?? A blessing
Sunwoo sliding back in with his deep voice and blue fishnet fingerless gloves what an ICON
Yo can Juyeon NOT? The disrespect is real. We get it you can dance like a beast, you’ve got legs for days, a nice face and a good voice. And the Juyeon/Hwall combination was done with the intention to kill. Like sorry, there is no way that combo was unintentional.
Younghooh with black hair is a thing I did not know I need
CHANHEE you TEAR UP THAT BRIDGE
aA:Dgkhase;lht that dance they do that’s almost like an up/down pop-and-lock think nearly moved me to tears
Sangyeon’s voice is so awesome.
Those solo shots of The Boyz were gorgeous thank you
Q and Haknyeon having a good time on the bus
Jacob, Hyunjae and Juyeon all getting their moment in the centre.  Juyeon in particular was so prevalent in the song and the MV it was awesome.
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