#third is summer fireworks that were so long i left early

[okinawabearsnake]

a collection of moments from my first year in Japan where i felt whole

#japan #shrine #photography #travel #my life #turn your brightness up #i get sentimental at night #first pic is from a dance festival bro i DANCED #second is just down the street from where i live #third is summer fireworks that were so long i left early #they do 90 min fireworks here it's wild #fourth was my first trip outside of tokyo #down to hakone and it was pouring rain #i was crying walking through the trails around this shrine #it was so beautiful and i was having a moment

[kokomeong]

The End of An Era - A Tribute to Milk! Records

How fast time passes us by, so why don’t you hold them - Remedy Waloni

I am writing this piece as I sip on a tall hot latte at a Starbucks inside a chain bookstore near my campus, a scene that I would have never imagined when my girlfriend took me to Seven Seeds in Carlton near her campus nine years ago. Her senpai took her there on her first week in Melbourne and she ordered hot chocolate, not convinced that the famous Melbourne coffee was different and would win her over. She used to not be able to stand the smell of second-wave coffee and coffee shops. In the early 2010’s, my brand new (and still alive) iPod video consisted of Alvvays, Bon Iver, Beirut, DCFC, Bombay Bicycle Club, and Wild Beasts. Teguh Wicaksono regularly made a super indie playlist for National Geographic Traveler. It was an exciting time. We went from spending our time going to Periplus Malioboro just to stare at Frankie to finding them at news kiosks everywhere in Australia. The third-wave was taking over in the peak of the hipster years, and we were relieved that the same trend had occupied Yogyakarta when we returned home a year later. Light roast direct trade coffee with manual brew and single origins were introduced perhaps not very successfully by snobbish male baristas as the market preferred cheap iced coffee with condensed milk as their go-to drink and young male smokers remained loyal to the dark roast americano with sugar added.   

I was reminded of all the buzz about the end of an era as Ronaldo and Messi left the European football scene when I heard that Milk! Records announced that they will close its doors in 2023. It was the heart of Melbourne independent music scene. I learned and took so many references from that music label and its community. It was the year Real Estate released Atlas, the year I was hooked by the brilliance of Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein’s Portlandia. Courtney Barnett released Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit, Methyl Ethel and Twerps completed their second album, and Dick Diver finished Melbourne, Florida, a staple of their distinctive Australiana sound.

Melbourne was a manifestation of an idea of how diverse the communities can be in a city. It could not be better: multiculturalism, the rising awareness of indigenous issues, Palestine, and animal rights debates, farm-to-table dining and direct trade sustainable produce, the tram lines, queer people kissing in front of old houses in Brunswick, the radical ideas of what a library is and can be, the New Year’s Eve fireworks in River Torrens, all the bookshops and empty wet streets, Papa Gino’s in Carlton, the A1 bakery in Sydney Road, Al-Alamy in Coburg, taking a book conservation training under the supervision of Karen Vidler, summertime bus ride along the majestic Adelaide coastlines, Adelaide Showground, the morning view from a room in Sturrock Street, a summer evening in St Kilda, my obsession with Steph Hughes’ illustrations, and the bitter smell of cheap morning to-go coffee in an unnamed stall in Adelaide station, introduced to me by a woman who worked in my apartment. They ground the beans and made the coffee in a proper espresso machine. There was always a long line of blue collar workers. The beans were dark roast, so bitter that you cannot drink it properly without sugar. I remained one of their regulars during those beautiful days in Adelaide because what is coffee even for if not to be romanticized.

That era in Australia changed (if not solidified) me, and I could not feel more fortunate to do my Master's there. I was a nobody, a 23 year-old working administrative-level job under a yearly contract dying to escape my routine and dysfunctional family dynamics. It was a small chance as the scholarship mainly goes to civil servants with a solid experience and career path. I didn’t have much to offer so I had to make it seem like I knew what I was doing somehow and they bought it. I spent all of my savings to give the best care to ten stray cats I rescued. My parents did not give me any money when I left for Australia, despite their ‘success’ in their respective career. I even gave mom my last 100,000 at the airport because I knew she needed the money.

When I rode my Tokyobike slowly for a morning commute to campus, I felt that it was surely the end of an era. The new young Indonesian bands I can no longer relate to, the fact that my hair is no longer perfectly straight and surrenders to my mom’s curly genetics, the way I managed to understand Japanese cashiers and their many questions before letting me pay for my order, reminiscing the Sefton Park suburb while indulging in the views of Zuibaiji river and the vast open rice fields everyday on the way to campus.

Australians enjoy a slow brunch, the Japanese eat a very effective breakfast. Australians spend a long summer holiday, the Japanese take a week-long summer break. Australians invented their perfectly balanced flat white, the Japanese preserved and perfected their simple drip coffee.

They are totally in contrast, yet from the life I have here and there I learn something in common: that you can be the kind of people who do not define yourself with your titles, job positions or external achievements. The kind of people who have a life outside their job. The people who are more interested in enriching their lives than pursuing the conventional idea of success. People who take seemingly trivial things seriously and deeply. They read, bike, walk, garden, bake, brew, ferment, cook, eat, drink, taste, feel, meet, see, write, watch, and listen consciously. They keep searching for something new and they are excited to learn.

Some people need to advance their career so much they are willing to do literally anything and sacrifice others when they realize they can’t do achieve anything just by relying on their skills and competence. They’re the type who might not appreciate walking to a green space, getting joy from looking at the ducks in the pond, being overly excited to see wild turtles in the river. But there’s no need to be so stressed out about going down if you can just choose to not go up.

Your titles and privileges can and will end, but ideas and knowledge go on. Rest in Peace, Milk! Records.

#hidup di kota #weekend #melbourne #naarm #australia #milk! records

[the-peachpit]

How I Fell In Love Three Ways

Ship: Shorter / (Y/N)

Warnings: None

Summary:

Of course it decides to the first day on your vacation to cap cod. Shorter as always shows you how to make the most of any situation. You remember all the times you've fallen in love with the mafia boss.

The thunder rolled over the hills; the air was full of static. You knew it would rain since yesterday, you could feel it in your bones with the chill of the wind that raced through the grass where you laid. Cape Cod was the first place you felt the change of the weather so strongly. In New York it felt like it was either summer or winter. You had missed the subtle divides of the world as it spun and changed. Spring was making a mark you’d never smelled before. Laying in the grass you waited watching intently as the clouds darkened turning the late afternoon into an early evening.

Another long roll of thunder shook your core as a hand reaches over warm and reassuring. Turning your head to the side you’re greeted with glittering dark eyes slanted in the corners pulled into a bright smile. Suddenly the sun was back.

“Trust me,” He whispered through the tall blades of grass.

You trust him with your life.

You nod unable to say just that.

Shorter Wong was one adventure after another, a gang leader who you’d never guess had the stomach for it. Though it wasn’t for him, but for the good of China Town, at least that’s what he told you and himself. When he asked you to come with him and his friends to an old house you didn’t even hesitate. If he asked you to jump from the cliff you just might.

“Here it comes,” Shorter’s voice was raised in excitement.

You braced yourself as the first drop fell, it was warmer than you expected on your skin. It started gradually before becoming a blanket of rain falling steadily against your body. Shorters laugh cut through the thunder as it growled low. His face towards the sky, his eyes closed as his chest raised towards the angry clouds above taking it all in. He was beautiful, and this was it, the fourth time you’d fallen in love with Shorter Wong and his patience with the world. Letting it all fall as he embraced it rolling with the waves. The rain itself couldn’t drown him, or quench the fireworks blooming in your chest.

The first time you had fallen in love with Shorters patience was simple. Getting home from work you saw Eji pacing around the kitchen while Shorter sat at the table in the corner looking intently. Eji was upset about something wringing his hands together as he talked quickly about his bad day at work. Slipping back into Japanese on occasion until he noticed you standing in the doorway shocked. Seeing Eji agitated wasn’t a normal occurrence. Sheepishly you closed the door and walked past while Eji groaned and rattled on. You paused on the stairs straining to listen.

“Now she’s going to think I’m” he paused huffing, “Damn it what’s the word? Not all together?”

‘Crazy,’ was the first word to pop into your head. You noticed Shorter hadn’t said a word as Eji worked it out before snapping his fingers.

“Crazy!” Eji shouted.

“(Y/N) isn’t going to think that,” Shorter assured him, “You had a rough day, it happens.”

As Eji continued on his rant you noticed Shorter never just fed him the words he wanted, never interrupted. Eji was free to express his feelings with no rush. You smiled as you continued up the stairs to your room. It was the first time you took note of Shorter’s firecracker personality taking a back seat. He was careful to listen thoroughly to Eji, giving genuine responses. That night while you laid on the couch playing on your phone, you didn’t miss the way Eji hummed while cooking dinner.

The second time you fell in love with Shorters patience was a rush six months later. The end of a roof party. The stars were sparkling while you dimmed the string lights strung along a small section of the roof patio. People were starting to filter out as midnight was on the horizon minutes from striking. The atmosphere had changed and Shorter who had controlled the music most of the night- playing all of his personal favorite party mixes- played something soft and slow. You yawned starting down the stairs with plates in your hand telling yourself you’d let them soak overnight and worry about them in the morning. Reaching into the pocket of your summer dress you realized you’d left your phone upstairs on the table. With a loud groan you trekked back up the stairs pausing at the top.

A wimped made you freeze holding the door open praying it wouldn’t creak. Sitting on the couch looking out over the city Ash’s golden hair was squished against Shorter’s shoulder. Shorter had his arm loosely draped over the back of the couch.

“I still think about it,” Ash said before swigging a beer, “Worried it’s not over, that we’re not really safe.”

“It’s been four years,” Shorter replied.

“Then why am I not over it!” Ash sat up straight.

Shorter’s hand moved to the middle of Ash’s shoulders rubbing gently, “No one expects you to be over it.”

You knew Ash had a rough past, something everyone but you seemed to be around for, for the most part. He doesn’t talk about it, basically pretends it doesn’t exist. You’ve seen Eji rewrite stories from the past on the spot when Ash is around to erase any bad events. Listening in felt wrong, but your curiosity of Ash had skyrocketed for years.

Ash screamed pulling you from your thoughts making your body shiver. His voice was broken as he shouted into the night sky over the honking of cars below. Shorter was a quiet comfort.

Feeling as if you had intruded slowly you let the door click close. It wasn’t supposed to rain, you could go without your phone that night. You never said a word to Ash or Shorter about what you saw that night. Keeping it to yourself felt right, but the next morning when you woke up with your phone next to you and Shorter doing the dishes with a goofy smile your heart did a flip.

The third and most recent time you’d fallen in love with Shorter was right before the trip. Sing wanted to go; Sing always wanted to tag along. No one was against him joining and you assumed it had been decided Sing was coming. Until you heard a familiar groan while you were taking a basket full of laundry to the basement. Peeking around the corner of the doorframe to the kitchen you saw Sing with his head down on the table.

“I have no idea how to write this,” he groaned.

Shorter was slicing an apple at the counter, “Tell me the prompt again, and we’ll think of something.”

Sing had recently started going back to school letting the whole gang thing take a seat on the back burner. It wasn’t easy and took a whole lot of convincing on Shorter’s part. The discussion had taken place on day on accident- it was totally your fault and Sing wouldn’t let you forget it.

Shorter and Sing came home early from the restaurant and caught you dancing in the living room. Shorter joked about your terrible dance moves and you rolled your eyes.

“Ha ha, Sing can tell you these moves are in. He probably sees them at school dances all the time.”

“As if,” Sing scoffed.

You put your hands on your hips, “I should have known you weren’t a school dance guy.”

Shorter put his hand on the back of his neck looking towards the floor, “Sing uh doesn’t go to school.”

“Oh,” You felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“Why would I need school?” Sing snorted, “I’ve already got a job.”

You shrugged, “You don’t need it, you’re a smart kid Sing. You’ve had great mentors, and the restaurant is great work. It does open more opportunities though, just in case you find yourself wanting to do something different.”

Sing pulled the juice from the fridge, “Sounds like a waste of time to me. I don’t plan on getting too old.”

“Sing,” Shorter’s voice was deep and gruff.

Sing took a long chug from his glass.

Later that night Shorter paced around the bedroom biting his nails as you brushed your teeth peeking from around the frame.

You spat the toothpaste into the sink, “You doing okay?”

Shorter sighed laying back across the bed, “I’m bummed out about Sing. He’s fucking fourteen.” He ran his fingers over his face, “He’s a hot headed know it all who hasn’t realized he’s in over his head. I hate the way he said he didn’t plan on being around long. What kid acknowledges death at 14?”

You walked to the bed sitting next to Shorter gently lacing your fingers through his, “Then talk to him about it. Tell him he should seriously consider doing more.” Shorter kissed your knuckles gently, “I can’t go all authority on Sing, we’ve always been equals.”

“Maybe it’s time to be a different kind of role model for him.”

Shorter looked at the ceiling his dark eyes on focused and his brow wrinkled in thought. You didn’t bring it up again.

A week later Sing was upset with you calling you names accusing you of brainwashing Shorter. Shorter ran into the living room making Sing leave in a stern tone you didn’t hear often from Shorter. It was official Sing was going to try going to school and Shorter was going to help him all the way.

Shorter’s determination to give Sing a better life that didn’t revolve around violence seemed like a no brainier, nothing to get mushy over, but you knew it was a cycle. It was so easy to keep gangs as a family business. Had Shorter not been Shorter Sing could have inherited the gang, if he lasted that long. There was too much bloodshed in New York they didn’t need to add to it much longer.

“(Y/N),” Your name slid off Shorters’ tongue as graceful as the wind snapping you back into this moment.

You were captivated the purple mohawk now flat laying to the side drenched in the spring rain. This moment could have lasted for eternity, and you would accept your fate, to never leave the gaze of a lover that swallowed your heart whole.

“Shorter! (Y/N)!” An outside voice cut through the storm, “You two are going to catch a cold!”

Shorter rolled his eyes dramatically before sitting up, “That’s a myth Eji!” He called back towards the house.

“We shouldn’t worry him,” Your voice sounded small stolen away.

Getting up you attempted to wipe the grass off your ass as if you weren’t drowning standing up. The storm had picked up the wind threatening to rip you off the ground. A warm arm slung across your shoulders, warm and grounding. You let yourself lean into Shorter as his other arm wrapped around the small of your back pulling you into a hug. It felt like nothing could shake you.

Lifting your head you looked up at Shorter smiling as if he’d never known a pain or struggle, as if he’d never feared or hurt, smiling for you. Standing on your tip toes you kissed Shorter surprising the man who always surprised you knowing that you would find new reasons to love him for the rest of your life.

#shorter wong #shorter x reader #banana fish #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #ash lynx #ash x eiji #haikyuu!!

[katsukikitten]

Part 1!  Part 2

Bakugou slumps angrily on the couch in the common space of his shared apartment.

Although if it were up to him he would have had his own apartment.

Especially with the way Kirishima brought his girlfriend over to sit on the love seat in the small living room being all...touchy feely. It was enough to make him gag.

Kirishima had begged him to sign the lease with him and so Bakugou begrudgingly agreed.

But he didn't expect a third party to be living here.

And no it was the cute pink haired woman who sat giggling beneath his sculpted arm.

It was you.  

You who bursts through the doors, practically running into the living room as you slip off your shoes.

"I need someone's help during the undergrad agency summer break." You pant as you look around the room. Eyes first flying to Kirishima before landing on the growling Ash blonde, "It'd be half work half vacation for a couple of weeks. Please."

You sound desperate causing Bakugou's stomach to churn. While it caused Kirishima to panic. In the year or so the three of you had shared an apartment you had never asked for help.

Not even with the dishes after your turn to cook. Glittering rubies dance across your form while scarlet burn holes into your skin.

"When? Which month?" Kirishima asks, pulling Mina closer to his muscular form.

"This upcoming month. So next week." Desperation is in your face again, "It's just a simple job I would pay…"

"I wish I could but Ashido and I are going abroad for our final summer internship before we are stand alone pros." Kirishima watches your face become crestfallen. You look to Bakugou desperately who avoids your puppy eyed gaze purposefully.

"Could you get Denki to do it?" Kirishima prompts. You chew your lip as you try to picture it.

"He isn't a good fit for the job. I need...someone a little more serious." Pacing as you think, going down the list of your classmates that might be free. Each step becoming more anxiety fueled, Kirishima's eyebrows knit upwards before his gaze lands on his friend.

"Bakugou, you got the summer off as a reward didn't you?" The ash blonde cuts his "friend" a harsh glare.

"Oi so what if I did?" All venom as he makes eye contact, instantly regretting it as he watches hope bloom on your face. His heart pangs as his stomach twists. He let's out an angry growl, "I'm not helping any fucking extras."

He stands, headed to barricade himself in his room for the rest of the evening. Between you and the fucking love birds he was more than ready to tear out his soft locks.

Your heart pounded in your chest now that Kirishima had mentioned it, Bakugou could potentially be perfect for the job. And you didn't have much time. The two of you would need to leave this weekend.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Please Bakugou! I'll make that super spicy ramen you love!" Your voice is higher than normal and whiny. Something the two men are unused to. Sinking your knees into the soft carpet in front of him. Your hands raised above your head as you speak.

"Please please please. I'll make the ramen anytime you want it for the next YEAR! 330 in the morning. 4 in the afternoon. 8pm! Please Bakugou Katsuki please!" You clap your hands, clasping them tightly together trying to hold onto what little dignity you had left. Groveling to a man you hardly knew and tolerated because Kirishima asked you to. Broken pride lodges like a lump in your throat, burning your eyes with unshed tears.

Katsuki blinks slowly, It was the first time you had used his first name.

And to be honest he hadn't ever imagined you to beg for anything.

He grabs onto your wrists yanking you to your feet.

"No one wants to see you on your knees, Brat." He snarls, yanking you hard enough you lose your footing as you're pulled into his godly chest. He watches you look up at him through long lashes. Your voice carrying in his head long after you've stopped speaking. Plush lips pointed in a forever pout.

"Please Katsuki."

He suppresses a shudder, grip tightening as he holds your forearms.

"I'll do it. Now shut up." He snarls, giving you a small shove.

Most people would feel embarrassed or hell even a little shameful. But you were not most people.

Bakugou hears you jumping for joy as he slams his door shut. Wondering what the hell he agreed too.

××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

He finds himself still wondering what he's said yes to as he stands in the train station staring at the map of the stops.

The town you named as your stop was in the middle of fucking no where. Where the hell were you two going?

Was this where you murdered him like you always promised?

"Katsuki! There you are!" Of course it's you who's shouting across the damn station, and if you didn't already attract enough attention with your easy on the eyes looks.

His own eyes watch your thick frame, powerful legs pushing you forward to him while your backpack among other things jiggle as you run, "You didn't get your ticket yet did you?"

He produces the slip as his eyes are finally drown downward towards the large duffle bag overstuffed with what looks like toys and souvenirs.

"Fucking Bakugou!" You snarl, "I was gonna buy your ticket."

He slides his digits against the smooth grey paper to reveal another ticket.

"Had I waited for your dumbass we wouldn't have made it there." You follow his eyes to the board to see your stop was SOLD OUT.

"What's with all that shit?" Again you mirror his gaze to your giant bag.

"Presents." You snarl, pushing him toward the platform as the grainy voice overhead announces boarding.

Bakugou shoves his small black bag into an overhead compartment, motioning with his broad hands for yours. You pass him your obnoxiously large bag that he growls over as he shoves it in, slamming the door shut.

He takes your book bag from your shoulders roughly before carefully placing it between his foot and the metal wall. You offer him a small smile before anxiety and anger begins to dance beneath your skin. The train becoming more and more crowded as people board. The last thing you wanted was your ass accidentally pressed against some perverts hardon each time the train jerked this way or that. You really should have asked Bakugou to help you get here early. If you had maybe you could have at least grabbed a seat. You just keep reminding yourself that after three stops the train would practically be empty.

But it was becoming a difficult mantra as more men pressed themselves against you as they piled onto the train. One or two ghosting their hands over your defined denim clad cheek.  You bite your tongue counting down from ten knowing full well that causing a scene would only make things more difficult for you.  

A suck of teeth is heard before you're being harshly pulled off balance just for your back to be pressed into the cool metal wall of the train. You're about to throw a punch when you realize it is Bakugou who has you pinned in the corner of the car. One strong hand pressed above your shoulder to keep from crashing into you as the train moves while the other holds tight to the bar overhead, shielding you from wander eyes but most importantly wandering hands.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you're caged in, all the while harsh scarlet eyes look down at you in a sneer.

"You should have left earlier Baka." He growls as his eyes cut to the corner of the window to stare at anything but you.  

A blush creeps into your cheeks as silence washes over the car. You take deep breaths to calm yourself only to be smothered in a heavy and almost charred sugary scent. A smile ghosts your lips as it reminds you of late summer nights and fireworks at festivals.

Over the next hour you steal glances up at the hot head who looks more than displeased as his scarlet eyes bore holes into the passing cityscape that slowly turns into a suburb just outside of the city limits. As you said the bodies on the train have thinned significantly as Bakugou pulls away, pointing to the first open seat he can see.

You gladly take it, nestling beside a kind old man who gives you a knowing look. Somehow it makes you blush more.

Bakugou wasn't going to take the news well as to why you really begged him on this adventure.

But what he didn't know didn't hurt him. He was already fitting the job description although he had his own way of doing it. His eyes cut to your bag by his foot to make sure it is still there before they cut to you.  

They linger over the old man questioning with his gaze if you're being bothered. You give a small shake of your head no before he sighs out. Taking with it some of the tension in his body as he pulls his phone from his pocket, his other arm still holding onto the bar. His muscles and bare skin peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his skull tee. Flexing with each pull of the train.

Heat floods your cheeks when you realize you are staring, you fish for your own phone to distract yourself as time seems to creep by.

Before long the older gentleman's stop has come, he ruffles the paper as if to fold it but uses the sound and ink as cover.

"You should just tell him." He gives you a wink before he folds the news neatly, tucking it beneath his arm as he slowly steps out of the training. Stopping just to give you a wink.

"Uuuugghh." Your heart sinks into your stomach before Bakugou finally takes a seat beside you.

"You sure that geezer didn't give you any trouble?" You nod as he scoots further away as the train empties until it is just the two of you.  

"What exactly am I fucking doing anyway?"

Fuck.

Fuckity fuck.

He wasn't supposed to ask yet.

You had hoped he wouldn't ask at all! That he would have kept his gaze sharp, arms crossed and mouth shut.

But here he sat, close enough you could smell his sugary scent once more.

"Don't get mad."

"Oh here we fucking go." His forearms threaten to pop as he holds your gaze head on.

"It's not really a job. I'm still going to pay you but…we're going to my hometown to see my family. So many people are going to be there I just didn't want to go alone. I haven't been in well over a year or so due to hero training and schooling. It's my grandmother's 95th birthday and well I…"

He watches sadness creep over your features, pulling your lips southward. He sighs out, letting go of the popping sensation that pricks at his skin.

"Oi, just means you owe me more than a years worth of ramen." His voice is gruff but it doesn't match his scarlet eyes. The train stops as two woman and the six kids between them get ready to board.

Thankfully you spot them before they spot you.

You lean close to Bakugou whispering almost too quickly for him to hear.

"From this point on. Just follow my lead."

You stand, a smile wide across your face as the kids yell, "Jushi-saaaan!!!"

Bakugou holds his breath and counts for a moment, realizing much too late that there's no turning back now.  

Conversation is light between the two of you as the kids play on their switches. Laughing loudly before more and more people pile on.

But this time they aren't strangers, no each time they are a new relative. Scarlet eyes narrow as the begin to wonder just HOW big your family was.

The train stops but the adventure doesn't as the large family loads onto a small bus ride that last another hour.

The sun begins to set as bus finally stops just outside a large estate and much older estate.

"No fucking way." He mutters to himself as he grabs for your bags, keeping his grumbling to himself as he climbs towards the estate.

"I can take one of those Katsuki. I don't mind."

"Dumbass I need it since you took away a month of training from me." He growls, pushing past you as he rises to the top.

Once there an elderly woman greets the two of you, he eyes roaming over Bakugou with a dull but interested look before passing back to you.  

"Separate rooms of course. Set your things down, Mei will take them. For now Sobo wants to see the two of you."

You bow, stomping on Bakugou's foot until he follows suit. Glaring at you the entire time.

Still he follows you around the large estate until you come across an open tatami door. Before you can sink down to your knees your grandmother calls for you.

"Come in dear! Don't be shy." She smiles delightfully watching the ash blonde with deft eyes.  Bakugou wouldn't have guess your grandmother was 95 if you hadn't told him. She sits stick straight in an old. iromuji kimono with bright eyes.

You sink to your knees and he mirrors your actions. Curiosity softening his burning ember eyes.

"How have you been my sweet mago?" She smiles wide enough that even her eyes seem to smile, reminding Bakugou if you.

Guess the apple never really does fall far from the tree.

"I'm well. I'm almost done with my pro hero internship. Then I can freelance and do work as I please." You smile, going on about your life as you catch up with your grandmother.

"Well I've got something for you as promised." She leans forward passing you a black kimono with cranes stitched in silver and golden thread. A small shrill shriek leaves your body as you hug onto her tightly pulling the fabric away from you to see.

"It's gorgeous grams!"

"A gorgeous piece for a gorgeous woman." Her smile is directed towards the ashen blonde "So Bakugou was it?"

He gives a nod, his body fully relaxed as he tries his hardest to be respectful desire his wanting to scream what the hell he needed to waste a full day's journey to the middle of no where for.

"We've heard so much about you! A pro hero with a powerful quirk." Bakugou smirks over the compliment, "You look strong. Good my mago needs it. She and this family do not do well with pushovers. She needs someone with a strong will. Since you are her fiance I have a few questions."

"Fian…" He shoots a glare towards you to which you return tenfold, he glances towards your grandmother. He grinds his teeth in temporary defeat.

"I need to know you can take care of her. My granddaughter is independent, almost to a fault. She comes from a long line of stubbornness and strong willed women. She needs to be supported without being overshadowed. She will need to be offered help because she will never ask and you will need to watch her closely as she will show two emotions. Determined and composed anger to get the task done and happiness should you be lucky. But the real question is." Grandmother leans in close holding Bakugou's darkening gaze, "Would you die for my granddaughter?"

His brows furrow from such an old fashioned question, your grandmother's eyes begin to narrow, gaze unwavering as she stares into crimson pools for the answer.

"I'll ask a final time. Would you die for my granddaughter?" Bakugou holds her gaze and answers without thought or hesitation.

Speaking an unspoken truth he hadn't realized was there.

"Yes." His voice is gruff and serious, even causing you to be taken aback.

All the while your grandmother's eyes cloud with what you think is suspicion before a giant smile plasters onto her face.

"He's going to fit right in." The old rotary phone in her study begins to ring, "I'll see you two tonight for dinner."

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #bnha au #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katuski bakugou #bakugou #bakugou comfort #bnha kacchan #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki

[auroras-blend]

First Day of School

Summary: AU one-shot of what would have happened if the Marks had won the custody battle. Told in Marilyn's POV

Sunlight peeked through the curtains and cast onto an empty bed, unusual since its occupant rarely woke up before then. No, instead little Miss Marilyn Winslow woke up with the birds who were singing joyfully outside and for once, she didn’t hiss at their loudness. Her mood reflected their demeanor as she whistled and sang along with them.

Marilyn clasped the white buckle to her mary-janes, before straightening in front of her mirror. Perfect! Her outfit was the most important thing that morning. It took her mind off of her nerves because she had a very big task in front of her: the first day of school. It was her first, first day of school since her Mama had passed and while the ache was there, she refused to go in sad. I have to make a good impression!

If there was one thing her Mama at least always tried to do, it was to make sure she looked good on the first day of school. Of course on their budget, most of the time it had been from the thrift store but once in first grade, she got a new dress. This year, Mrs. Marks offered to let her pick out her own and buy it new, but Marilyn insisted on going to the thrift store for a new dress or “slightly used” because that’s what she and Mama did. The old lady who ran the shop was happy to see her once again.

Marilyn, in a way to pay tribute to her mother, wore a green gingham dress because the color always looked so wonderful with her eyes. It was slightly tailored to fix a rip, but it was barely noticeable now. Pleased with her outfit, Marilyn fluffed her blonde curls and tightly set a white headband on her head before nodding in satisfaction and left her room. The smell of sweet maple syrup wafted from the kitchen, leading her like a moth to the flame. The minute her heels clicked on the tile, her parents smiled. “Look at you!” Daddy exclaimed, putting down his paper, “Look at how beautiful you are!”

Mrs. Marks smiled, “You’re a dream!”

Her mommy briefly abandoned plating the pancakes in exchange for coming to see her daughter’s first day of school outfit. “Thank you,” Marilyn blushed.

“You’re going to have such a good day, I know it,” Mommy said surely as she kissed Marilyn on the forehead.

It was rough for a long time, it still was, after her Mama died. Marilyn still longed for her real daddy, not that she’d ever tell Mr. Marks that, but the ache in her heart and mind started to dull. The small family sat around their table and said their prayers. “And Lord, please give Marilyn a wonderful first day of school,” Daddy said lastly, “Amen.”

“Amen,” she and Mommy finished before they began eating.

As they had their breakfast, Mommy went over the pick-up and drop-off routine. Marilyn knew it, they had been doing it since she started living with them. “We’ll both take you today, we don’t want to miss your first day,” cooed Mommy, “But Daddy will pick you up and take you with him to the church where you’ll be with me in the daycare for the last hour, okay?”

“Okay,” she said pleasantly, her mouth full of sticky, sweet, fluffy pancakes.

Her nerves were high, wondering if she’d be in the same class as Rodney Lord again or if she’d spend another year friendless, but she always felt that way on the first day. Mama, please help me have a good time. She wiped her stinging nose before anyone could notice, I don’t wanna be the class crier this year. She’d been on a pretty good no crying streak this summer, of course, there were days where she did, but it hadn’t been as often as before.

In all honesty, she would have preferred her summer to last a little longer with the Marks because she had truly been happy. Marilyn felt like she was finally part of a normal family, nourished in warmth and affection that she hadn’t ever received before. And she was so excited to share that when people asked her what she did that summer because she finally had a fun and exciting answer! They had been to the county fair, the fireworks show, went to Baltimore for some conference Mr. Marks had to go to, but it had been a real family vacation!

It had been a relaxing time as she got to know her new parents and their daily routines. She loved waking up early some mornings, yes I know, I liked it and sneaking to sit with her daddy and color as he read through his Bible before helping her Mommy make breakfast. Breakfast used to be a meal she had to forgo, but now every day started at the table. Life was structured and comfortable, and as if to prove it, the clock struck right when she swallowed her last piece of pancake to fill her belly before school.

“Oh, finish your milk, we’ve gotta go!” Mrs. Marks said as she got up, clearing the plates as Mr. Marks went to get their coats, keys, and Marilyn’s backpack.

Cupping her glass with both hands, she guzzled it down as she watched her parents scurry to get ready before she let out a refreshing “ah” and handed it over to Mrs. Marks. “Kay peanut, ready?” Mr. Marks asked as he helped her out of her seat and into her dark green coat and new leather satchel.

That’s right, it’s new! They let her pick out her own backpack that year and she swore to keep it clean and safe at all costs. You’re on a mission, Miss Marilyn! “Hey,” Mr. Marks leaned down, “Still on for ice cream?”

She grinned and nodded, “Uh-huh!”

He gave her an agreeing nod. Mr. Marks said it would be their “thing”, every year at the end of the first day of school and last day of school, they’d get ice cream and talk about her day. They did it the previous year on her last day and it was one of her favorite memories, one that she tucked away and pulled out whenever she was feeling particularly sad. Mr. Marks gently reached for her hand and his wife for the other and walked out to the car together, ready to start her on her next adventure.

The ride was too short and too long all at once. They chatted but when they parked, amid the flurry of walking children and their parents, she frowned. When they noticed she’d become silent, they turned around, “You’re going to have a great day!”

“I-I’m gonna miss you…I don’t want to go,” she said, sounding like a frog was caught in her throat.

“Oh peanut, you’re gonna have so much fun though. You’ll make new friends, have a new teacher, and you’ve been practicing your reading all summer so you’re all caught up!” Mr. Marks reassured her.

“What if people make fun of me?”

“They won’t,” Mrs. Marks said firmly, “And if they do, they’re not worth being around.”

Since the adoption, people had been nicer to her but she was still nervous. “I-I’ve never not had...my Mama,” she said.

It was starting to hurt again. “Your Mama is still here, watching over you. You’ve got me, Daddy, and your mom up in heaven. Three adults who love you, that’s a lot.”

“God too,” Daddy added.

He has to say that. He’s a pastor. With a little more confidence knowing she had more people in her corner, she was able to step out of the car when the pastor opened it for her. Hand in hand, matching all of the other families with their children, they walked her to the front of the third-grade doors. “This is it,” Mrs. Marks said, “You’re going to do so well!”

Her adults kneeled down and gave her a big hug and wet kisses on her cheek, though her Mommy gave her more. “I love you so much,” she whispered into her ear.

“I love you too Mommy,” Marilyn said, hugging her tightly.

“And your other Mama loves you too,” Mrs. Marks added.

“Thank you,” Marilyn whispered.

The fact that Mrs. Marks never tried to bury her Mama’s memory, meant the world to her. After another proper minute, the bell rang and the students congregated to their assigned lines. Marilyn bravely and confidently walked to her own, head held up high. I can do this! Have a growth mindset.

Her head did turn to see her parents waving goodbye to her before she was forced to move forward in line to the doors. When she passed the threshold, she became an official third-grader at Summerfield Elementary. Showtime.

The first few moments were chaotic as her teacher, a woman with dark black hair styled in a flick-up, directed students to put their items away on the coat rack. Marilyn was already in awe, the woman was incredibly beautiful with warm hazel almond-shaped eyes that made her feel comfortable. And the way her teacher was looking at her, she knew she’d already become a favorite of hers. Marilyn gave her a shy smile and wave before turning to find her desk, looking for her name tag: Marilyn Marks.

Part of her was thrilled that her last name was Marks, but she didn't know how to cope with not being Winslow. She already knew it was naughty, but she resolved to lightly trace the name Winslow underneath it later. To honor Mama. “Boys and girls, take your seats!” her teacher instructed, clapping her hands together.

Marilyn slid into the hard wooden seat and squirmed for a bit, before looking around. No Rodney Lord! Yesss! “I like your dress,” whispered a girl next to her.

She had dark red hair tied back into pigtail braids. Marilyn glanced at her name, Sara Barnes. “Thank you, I like your sweater,” she said sweetly as her eyes appreciated the blue cardigan.

“I’m new, wanna play with me at recess?”

Marilyn’s heart uplifted! “Okay!”

A friend! I can go and tell daddy I have a new friend after school! “I’m Sara.”

“I’m Marilyn,” she said as they quickly shook hands.

“Alright, settle down! Give me zero voices in 3,2,1!” her teacher said as a hush fell upon the classroom.

Marilyn’s soft green eyes landed on her beautiful teacher. Her teacher was a glamorous woman who wore a dark blue dress, as sharp as her cheekbones.

“I am so happy to see you all here today!” she cooed, clapping her hands together before picking up a piece of chalk, “I am your new teacher! You may call me...”

She began to spell out the letters: M-i-s-s. Miss. S-a-g-e-s-s-e. Sagesse.

“Miss Sagesse,” she said, making brief direct eye contact with Marilyn, “Welcome to 3rd grade.”

She knew it was too early, but Marilyn allowed herself to smile at the promising start of her first day back at school.

#marilyn winslow #emilie marks #john marks #princess aurora #au to the au #bonus chapter #?

[velvetthunder1999]

All the time on Earth

Part 17 - Happy

Summary: You take George on a date where he tells you stories about his family and the first time he realized he loved you

Warnings: None, Fluff

Word count: 4.2K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

You were just writing the last words on your Transfiguration essay when Hermione who was sitting opposite you in an armchair by the fire exclaimed in an angry voice.

“I can’t believe they still doing this!”

You and Ron followed her gaze. She was staring at Fred, George and Lee, who were surrounded by a group of first-years, giving them candies for testing. You raised and eyebrow but didn’t say anything; you turned back to your homework, hoping you could finish it before Hermione erupts again.

“I told them yesterday I write to their mum if they don’t stop,” she said snarkily. Your eyes met Ron’s and both of you turned away very quickly. “You think it is all right, what they’re doing?”

You needed a second to realize that she was talking to you. You raised your head again towards the boys, then shrugged.

“They’re not doing anything illegal, Hermione,” you said casually. “I’ve checked the school rules.”

“What they’re doing is dangerous. And those are just kids!”

“It’s not dangerous,” you sat flatly. “They’ve tested everything on themselves, so have I. I know for a fact that Lee ate at least twelve of those candies since the week we’ve been here, and he appears to be just fine.”

“I still don’t like it,” she said. “It can cause serious harm.”

“No, it can’t.”

“At least you should be more responsible!”

“Hermione, you know about the sort-of-illegal business I’m running here, right?”

“I have a few words about that, too.”

“Great, hold that thought for a second, I’m trying to finish here.”

You leaned over your essay again, and Ron gave out a snorting laugh. He quickly stopped when Hermione looked at him.

“Will you tell them to stop, then?” she returned to you.

“I’m not their guardian, Hermione. Let them make some money, please.”

You folded your finished essay and looked towards the boys again. George apparently was eavesdropping because when you met his eyes across the room, he winked.

September’s first week was about to end and you already felt exhausted. You’ve written a bunch of essays to five different teacher, and that Umbridge woman was giving you pointless homeworks as well; copying pages out of her beloved book. You had a feeling that if this was what she called teaching, you won’t be quite satisfied this year.

As Saturday arrived, you felt like sleeping in, but you knew you had loads of things to attend to. You dressed quickly and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. As you sat at the table, your eyes stuck on Ron’s sickly looking face.

“Are you all right, Ron?”

He just nodded. Ginny answered for him.

“He has his first training today as official Keeper.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” you said as George sat down next to you and Fred opposite you. “Well, good luck, Ron!”

He nodded in silence. George kissed you quickly on the cheek and reached for a toast.

“Good morning. Are you coming to watch the training session?” he asked, looking for the marmalade jar.

“Sorry, I can’t,” you said, handing it over to him. “I need to do a few things today.”

“On Saturday?” asked Fred in disbelief. “I cannot imagine the pain.”

When you finished eating, you joined the twins to walk with them till the quidditch pitch. Fred went ahead to the changing rooms but George stayed behind.

“You sure you can’t stay?” he reached for your hand. You smiled at him.

“Sorry. Really. I try to finish early.”

He made a sad pouty face.

“Fine. I show off some other time then.”

You giggled.

“That’s the spirit,” you saw Ron and Harry coming to the dressing room as well. You raised an eyebrow at George. “Be nice, okay?”

“I will, I will.”

He turned back to you with a small smile. You nodded and kissed him on the cheek.

“All right. I gotta go. Have fun!”

You waved and left him behind. You needed to hurry if you wanted to do everything you have planned.

——

After finishing the training and taking a shower, George was looking for you everywhere in the common room but you didn’t seem to show up. He joined Fred and Lee feeling rather disappointed; he hoped returning to school would let you spend more time together, since during the summer you had to sneak around for every private minute.

When the common room started to get empty he stood up, too, joining the crowd heading to have dinner, however, he was only walking on the marble stairs leading to the Entrance Hall when you appeared next to him, grinning.

“Hey there.”

“Hey! Where were you all day?”

“Oh, I needed to get ready,” you said, with a suspicious smile on your lips.

“Ready for what?”

“I’m going on a date.”

George’s heart gave a panicked throb and he stopped in his tracks in the middle of the stairs. A third-year boy walked right into him but he didn’t care.

“You — What?”

“Yeah, on a date,” you said shrugging. George felt his brain shutting down.

“With — Who?”

Your grin widened.

“My boyfriend.”

“Your…”

He was mumbling. He looked in your cheeky eyes. Why were you not concerned?! Why were you… you…

“For Merlin’s sake!” he exclaimed and you started to laugh. “Don’t ever do this to me again! You naughty little prat!”

You laughed and you hugged him. He felt his heart calming down.

“So what are you planning?”

“Come, you’ll see.”

You took his hand and lead him out in the park, leaving the crowd behind. George was gazing at your face in disbelief as he was still recovering from the extreme shock. You two passed the greenhouses and George realized that you were heading towards the quidditch pitch.

“I really made an effort, you see,” you said, while climbing the stairs to the rows where audiences sat during the matches. “Ta-da!”

George looked around and saw at once the packages prepared on the highest benches;  numerous kinds of sandwiches, butterbeer bottles by the dozen, his favorite Honeydukes candies, games from Zonko’s and Dr Filibuster's Fireworks lay around on a huge blanket.

“I felt like we couldn’t really hang out lately,” you said. “And you did this for me once so I guess I’m returning the favour.”

George felt that warm feeling in his chest, the one he only feels when he’s with you. He took your hand and sat comfortably onto the blanket next to you.

“Where did you get the butterbeers, though?” he asked.

“Why?”

“It wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend.”

“Oh, I went through the tunnel,” you said, raising an eyebrow in doubt and opening a bottle. “Don’t tell me you don’t know about the tunnel.”

“Of course, I do, but I thought… You know what, I’m not even surprised. Cheers.”

He beamed and drank from his bottle, not taking his eyes off you. He was blown away.

“So how was quidditch practice today?” you asked, not realizing that he was gazing at you. George shook his head a little, forcing himself to create a sentence that actually makes sense.

“Oh, it was rubbish,” he said. “Ron accidentally threw the quaffle at Katie, and she had a nosebleed.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah. Fred gave her the wrong candy — that just made it worse. She had to go to the hospital wing.”

“But is she all right?”

“Yeah, she’s fine now,” he said reassuringly. “But training was still dreadful with Slytherin lurking around.”

Your face darkened.

“I’m guessing they were really interested in Ron’s capabilities.”

“Something like that,” George drank again. Even though his brother was a bit slow-paced sometimes, he wished the worst for everyone other than Fred and himself who dared to say a bad word about Ron.

“How was he?” you asked, concerned. “He almost fainted when I saw him this morning.”

George chuckled.

“You want the kind answer or the honest answer?”

You grimaced.

“The honest answer, kindly.”

“He’s… not the best. Not the worst, either. Harry says he’s got it, he’s just nervous.”

You nodded silently. George was smiling to himself.

“You never saw me flying, you know that?”

You snorted, chuckling.

“That’s not true. I saw you on matches loads of times.”

“Not like that,” George shook his head, beaming. “You know, since we are — cohabitants.”

“Cohabitants?!” you burst out laughing. “That sounded horrible!”

“Sorry, I meant since we have been dallying with each other.”

He was grinning like crazy at the sound of your laugh. You were incredibly loud and he loved it.

“Okay, just stop,” you said, still giggling. “So, since we’ve been living in sin, you mean…?”

George laughed and choked on his butterbeer. He felt like he was going to have a coughing fit.

“Are you okay?” you giggled. He nodded, then made a ‘hic’ sound and he started hiccoughing. You laughed again.

“Hey!” he said, trying his best to hold back the laughs and the chuckles. “Don’t laugh at —‘hic’.”

You were leaning back in laughter. He shook his head — ‘hic’ — and tried to come off it by holding his breath but — ‘hic’ — it wasn’t working. Every time you seemed to calm down, he chuckled again, making you laugh even more. If it meant seeing you like this, he was up for hiccoughing for the rest of his life.

“All right, all right,” you said after a long fit of giggles. “Try taking small sips and raise one arm above your head. That should do.”

“Is this like a muggle — ‘hic’ — solution?” he asked while waving around like a windmill.

“You don’t know this one?” you giggled watching him. “I’m starting to realise we have a lot of different life hacks.”

“Yeah?” he said then swallowed the rest of his butterbeer. The hiccoughs stopped. “Ah, that’s better.”

He reached for a few Filibuster's Fireworks and lit them with his wand. He threw them into the air, watching as they were flying all around five feet above your heads. You followed them with your eyes as well; in the setting sun your hair looked the same texture as honey. George smiled to himself. He suddenly wanted to share every thought that had ever crossed his mind with you.

“When we were children we believed that if you don’t fly your brooms regularly, they get bored and break out of the shed in the middle of the night. Attack you in your sleep.”

Your eyes widened as you giggled.

“What?”

“Yeah,” George nodded, beaming. “So Fred and I waited until everyone was asleep and snuck out to play quidditch in the dark.”

“I bet your parents loved it.”

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckled at the memory. “Dad had to sleep in our room for two weeks to make sure we stayed inside.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen,” he smirked.

“What?!”

He laughed.

“No — no, about four or five, I reckon. We were quite a handful.”

“You are quite a handful,” you said, shaking your head, smiling. “Tell me more.”

You were looking at him in such a tender way he could not help but smile. His heart was beating really fast again. He took your hand into his and continued.

“Let’s see… Did I tell you how I got my middle name?”

“No.”

“You know it’s Fabian, right? And Fred’s Gideon. They were brothers of mum. They both died in the war. I reckon she wanted to commemorate them somehow.”

You were looking at him with warmth in your eyes.

“That’s a really nice gesture of her.”

A sweet, sorrowful expression appeared on your face. George leaned closer, examining you.

“Did I make you sad?”

You shot a small smile at him.

“A little. But it’s okay. These are important things. We should not forget about telling them.”

George couldn’t help himself. He leaned and pressed a tender kiss on your cheek, then he just let himself get lost in your presence, taking you all in, with a smile hiding in the corner of his lips.

He felt so different when he was with you. So honest. So free. He knew he could tell you anything. Even the not-so-nice stuff. Even the sorrowful things. He knew you’d understand, just like you understood why he had told you this. He saw it in your eyes. He saw kindness and caring. And it made him feel a bit better. He had always thought his middle name carried a gloomy meaning. With you, it didn’t seem so gloomy anymore.

Merlin, he loved you so much.

“Tell me more,” you said, with that eager expression on your face. Like you’d give anything to hear him gabble his tatty stories.

“All right… Let’s see… Oh, here’s one. When we were little, Fred and I always pretended to be each other. Drove mum crazy, that one, ‘specially when we did something we were not supposed to.”

You chortled.

“And you left that habit behind, have you?”

“Er — sure,” he said, not very convincingly. Then he cackled. “Once we tried to confuse Snape, in first year. He ended up taking a hundred points from Gryffindor. Mm… Those were the days, I’m telling you.”

Your giggles returned and his heart was beating fast again.

“What are you on about?” you said. “You’re not even that identical.”

“Yes, we are!” he said in mock offense. “Loads can’t even tell half the time.”

“Come off it, it’s not that hard!”

“Why, how do you know you’re not sitting here with Fred right now?” he asked. “I might have been fooling you for a whole week.”

You snorted.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I can tell the two of you apart in an instant.”

“I’m sure sometimes you can’t, though,” he said teasingly. You furrowed your brows.

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, stop,” you said, scowling. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m just joking.”

“I know, but it’s important to me. You knowing… that I know. I want you to know… I always… I’m always certain.”

Your puzzled speech made him take your hand again. As he spoke, he was smiling mischievously, but he meant every word.

“I know you can tell us apart, love,” he smirked. “I know it since the Yule Ball.”

You turned to him in surprise.

“Really?”

“Mm…” he trailed off for a moment, reminiscing about that night, then continued. “Remember, you didn’t tell me who did you think I was. And we danced later and I wished you’d knew for real, but I wasn’t sure… And then you said ‘Good night, George’ and it was a really big deal for me.”

He hesitated. He felt himself blushing but he also wanted to tell you… He cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly.

“I think that was it for me. When you said my name… I just somehow… knew.”

“Knew what?”

He didn’t answer, but looked at you with a you-know-what-I-mean face. You seemed to be blushing a bit, too. He found you beautiful.

“That’s…” you started. “Blimey.”

He chuckled.

“Sappy?”

You giggled as you leaned closer to him. You kissed him on the cheek, just as he had done a few minutes ago to you.

“Yeah,” you said. “Yes, it is, but it’s okay. But, yeah, a bit sappy.”

“All right, then, tell me yours if you’re so witty,” he said playfully.

“Mine?” you said, thinking. You smiled to yourself. “I think when we went to Hogsmeade for the first time. And I refilled the butterbeer bottles with magic, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“And you said, you said this: ‘You really are something.’ And I was blown away, because I knew I wasn’t doing something nice, but… You seemed to understand. And I just… It felt so… right with you.”

You were captivating as you were sitting there, showering in the last orange beams of the sunset. George was not fond of showing off, let others see what you two have… He had always believed it to be a private thing. But as he saw the last people wandering around the quidditch pitch, way below where you were sitting, he almost felt like putting everything aside and just press kisses all over you right here, right now.

His rumbling stomach reminded him that you two skipped dinner, indeed. He looked down at the sandwiches you had brought and his chest felt warm again.

“Are these for us?”

“What do you think, ginger boy?” you handed him one from the pile. “Here, take it.”

He took a bite and his stomach immediately felt better. He wondered if he’d feel the same if anyone else but you’d had made the sandwiches.

“What’s yours?” he said, mumbling through the ham and tomato.

“Cheese. You wanna try it?”

“Yeah.”

You switched.

Above your heads the Filibuster’s Fireworks were throwing their last sparks around before their remainings fell at your feet. The quidditch pitch and the park was empty now, as curfew was coming. George’s mood sank a bit as he saw Hagrid’s empty hut in the distance; he just hoped that he’s all right, whatever mission Dumbledore had sent him on. Sitting here with you, eating sandwiches and drinking butterbeer made it hard to believe that somewhere out there the greatest dark wizard was planning to destroy their peaceful world. He wished he could stay in this moment with you forever.

“You wanna play a round of Exploding Snap before heading back?” he asked you.

“Sure!”

You opened a pack of Fizzing Whizbees while he shuffled the cards. You put a piece of candy in his mouth as well and he pressed a kiss on your fingers as a thank you.

By the time you finished playing it was already dark, only the moon was shining on the sky. George knew you felt the same — trying to stretch out this perfect day, before returning to reality. But soon you could do nothing about it. It was time to pack your stuff and head back to the castle.

“Are you cold?” George glanced at you as you shivered.

“A bit. I’m more creeped out by the forest. Look.”

You pointed at the treeline by the Forbidden Forest. George grinned.

“Ron said there are enormous Acromantulas there,” he said teasingly. He knew you hated spiders. “Bigger than a car, even.”

“Oh, shut up, will you?” you shivered again. He laughed and put an arm around your shoulders.

“Wouldn’t it be nice, tough? A nice tour in the —”

“George!” you scolded him and ran a few feet ahead. “I leave you behind if you don’t behave!”

“I’d like to see you try,” he said, running after you. You shrieked as he almost caught you at the bottom of the stairs and giggled loudly when he embraced you in a tight hug in the Entrance Hall.

“George! Let me go!”

“I don’t think so, love,” he said, peppering you with kisses from behind.

“Let me go, I feel sick!”

George let go in panic at once. He reached for your face in concern.

“I’m so sorry, are you all right? Did I do something?”

“Hah!” you blew raspberries at his face and started laughing again as you ran up the marble staircase. George scowled in mock outrage.

“You’re making fun of my good heart, Y/N!” he shouted as he was running after you.

The two of you were chasing each other all the way on the corridors. You stopped in the middle of a hallway, waiting for him, playing with him, daring him to chase you again. You seemed to be trapped between a statue and the window; behind you the stairs had just moved away.

“Having some trouble?” George asked, smirking. His voice was echoing in the empty hallway.

“Oh, you wish!” you giggled and decided to jump to your left, at an arriving staircase. George followed and caught you for the second time, holding you close from behind.

“Don’t even dream about going free this time,” he murmured in your ears and he felt you shivering again.

“You overestimate yourself, Weasley,” you chuckled.

Somewhere in the distance a door was shut, but it was too far away for George to care. He only cared about you as you turned around in his arms, standing in the middle of the moving staircase. You casually put your arms around his neck. He loved when you did that.

“I wanna ask you something,” he said suddenly. You nodded.

“Ask.”

“It’s a serious question.”

“Okay, ask,” you smiled at him with anticipation.

George had no idea where this was coming from. He just wanted to know. He just wanted to be sure. He’s a declared sappy git already… so it didn’t really make a difference.

“Are you happy?”

He saw that the question took you by surprise. Somewhere above he could hear footsteps.

You nodded, smiling.

“Of course.”

He shook his head.

“No, witty… I mean seriously. Are you happy?”

You were looking deeply in his eyes. George knew you understood. He just hoped you say yes. Yes to being happy with him… just as happy he was with you.

Your smile faded a little as you were thinking… evaluating… George’s heart was beating nervously. You looked to his side, reminiscing about something that he couldn’t see, something only you could see, only you could remember… then you looked back at him, a piercing look in your eyes, and you said calmly with a returning smile:

“Yes. I am happy.”

George let out a deep sigh and grinned. His chest felt really, really hot. When you reached for his face, the touch of your fingertips left him feel dizzy.

“Are you happy?” you whispered. George didn’t even need to think about it.

“Yes, I am.”

“I am serious, too.”

“I am very happy,” he leaned closer to kiss you but you turned away.

“Don’t, I have a boyfriend!”

“Oh, all right then,” he let go of you and stood tall, making it impossible for you to reach him. “Is this all right?”

“Now, that I think about it…” you said with a cheeky grin. But he purposely stood even taller on his toes. He loved playing with you like this. His smile widened when you gently pulled his tie towards you.

“Now, now, what will your boyfriend say?”

“He can handle it.” George gave in and closed his eyes in pleasure as your lips touched his. He grabbed your robes and pulled you closer to him, taking in your wonderfull vanilla shampoo and tasting butterbeer on your tongue…

“Hem hem.”

George sprung aroung, hiding you behind his back in an instant. He knew this voice, this disturbing little sound, he knew whom it belonged to. He was right. On the top of the staircase was Professor Umbridge, staring at the two of you with a wide smile.

“Mr Weasley,” she said in a girlish voice. “Miss Y/L/N. Are you aware of how late it is?”

“No,” said George at once. Umbridge shook her head.

“When I ask you something Mr Weasley I expect you to answer with ‘Yes, Professor Umbridge’ or ‘No, Professor Umbridge’. Let’s try again. Are you aware of how late it is?”

“No… Professor Umbridge.”

“Come up here, please.”

She indicated next to her, and she herself stepped off the staircase, too. George looked at you and rolled his eyes; you smirked and took his hand. He knew detention was coming, he didn’t really care; he was rather annoyed that he has to spend his valuable time cleaning statues or writing some lines.

You walked up the staircase and stopped in front of Umbridge. George wondered wether she was twice as short as him. She shot an interested glance at his hand holding yours, but she did not comment on it.

“Now, I must inform you that breaking the school rules comes with consequences. Leaving your dormitories at night, way past curfew is one of the many things that are forbidden in this institution. I am expecting you on Monday at five o’clock in my office. Detention, it is.”

“For going on a walk?” you said irritatedly. Umbridge glanced at you holding hands again before she answered.

“Punishable behaviour should be punished, dear. Was I clear enough?”

“Yes…” you muttered. She raised an eyebrow. “Professor Umbridge.”

“Wonderful. Let’s hope we can break off these silly… habits,” she took one last glance at your hands. “To your dormitories, now. Off you go, please.”

You didn’t speak until you reached the Fat Lady, but when you stepped into the common room, both of you snorted with laughter.

“Punishable behaviour should be punished,” George said in a high pitched voice. “Honestly.”

“I hate that woman so much,” you said, rolling your eyes and giggling. “Detention! Seriously?! Like I had nothing better to do than writing some lines for her or something.”

“Exactly,” George said, pulling you closer to him again. “Come here, you.”

He pressed a kiss on the tip of your nose. You giggled. You were very giggly tonight.

“I had fun, you know,” he said.

“Yeah, me too,” you nodded before letting out a huge yawn.

“Maybe you should turn in.”

“Yeah, probably,” you said, rubbing your eyes. You curtseyed playfully. “Goodnight, Mr Weasley.”

George seriously considered saying ‘Goodnight, Mrs Weasley’ to you, but he decided he’d rather not freak you out. So he just said his usual ‘Sweet dreams’ and only turned away when you waved him goodbye and disappeared behind your dormitory door.

#harry potter #george weasley fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #imagination #imagine george weasley #george weasley imagination #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #georgeweasley #george weasley #fredweasley #fred weasley #Fred and George #Fred and George Weasley #gred and forge #weasley twins #hermione #ginny #Ron #Ron Weasley #weasley #weasley family #hogwarts #hogsmeade #hp #hp fanfic #hp series #harry potter series #hp imagines

[peterparkers-sparkles]

long nights apart

Here! Take some long distance!Winterspider.

Featuring : They met during Bucky's summer in NYC, but now he’s back in California and Peter is BIG SAD about it.

___________________

It was the third time this week that peter saw his boyfriends face through the screen of his shitty iPhone 6. The video was a little laggy at this point, but Peter was just happy to see a glimpse of James through the glass screen. He had the phone balanced against a few books in order to continue scribbling on the lined paper in front of him, coping down the notes from the lecture, while listening to his older boyfriend ramble on about his day.

James was a good few years older than him, being 27 while Peter was 22, still in his masters program at Empire State University to gain his biochemistry degree. After he was done with his masters program, he was going to transfer to USC next semester in order to stay closer to Bucky, but if they ended up not working out, it was still something he wanted to do, see the world a little bit.

“--eter?” He heard the back end of his boyfriends rambling, before he peeked up, giving his lover an apologetic smile. Bucky just let out a little laugh as a response to Peter's space-cadet state of mind, which wasn’t unusual. “I was saying, how are your classes going? You should probably take a break, love.” he said and nods firmly. “Are Tony and Bruce in? You could go out with them for a little bit, just to have a little fun!” Bucky was always suggesting things like that, because apparently Peter was a hermit when his boyfriend wasn’t around.

Peter found himself snorting at his boyfriends antics, because it wasn’t like this didn’t do this every time they spoke on the phone this late (it was not even that late, maybe 6:30 in the afternoon). “My classes are going well, you know me. I’m just a worker bee, Buck, always getting things done.” Peter said as he sat his pen back down on the desk, before getting up and moving to lay on his bed, sighing softly. “Here, I’m taking a break, love. Tony and Bruce went out for drinks with Natasha and Rhodey.. They asked if I wanted to come, but I thoughtfully declined. You know that drinking isn't my thing, especially after Tony gets absolutely hammered and I have to drag him back home afterwards. I would much rather be cuddled right now by my boyfriend, who is all the way across the country.” Peter said that last statement with a small pout, making his best puppy dog eyes at the camera. “I can’t wait to see you again in a few weeks. You haven't done anything completely crazy, have you? No tattoos or things of the sorts I should know of?” Peter said with a small, teasing smile.

The older of the two barked out a small laugh, knowing exactly how Peter was with these kinda things. Peter didn’t go out much, unless it was for food or class or his friends forced him out of his hidey hole.. Ironically, that was how the two met, the one time that Peters roommates, Tony Stark and Bruce Banner (both biochem majors like peter), decided to drag Peter clubbing with them.

Bucky had found Peter sitting at the bar, drinking not an alcoholic beverage, but chocolate milk. His curly brown locks looked blue under the neon lights of whatever club they were in, poor kid looked miserable. James was also clubbing with his friends, Sam and Steve, but they were both currently on the dance floor making absolute fools out of themselves, since James volunteered to be DD that night. The group had decided spontaneously spend the summer in NYC, since this is where both Bucky and Steve grew up, but they had both moved to California after high school ended. At the bar, the two of them spoke for a bit, and Peter got comfortable enough with Bucky to give the other his number. They exchanged texts and had decided to meet up again, but in a slightly more controlled environment, so they went out for Mediterranian in Manhattan. And that was sort of how their relationship took off. Peter asked Bucky to be his official boyfriend on the fourth of July, while they were sitting on the roof of Peters apartment complex, watching the fireworks go off over the Hudson River. That was when they shared their first kiss, no matter how cheesy it might be.

Bucky had left two month later, in early September. He had walked peter to his first class of the semester, caught the train to Newark International Airport, and took a plane from there to California again.

And now they were in early January. Freshly fallen snow coated the ground in New York, and the still warm sun beating down on Bucky's side of the country.. Well.. Peter assumed he was still there.

“Nope.. No new tattoos, but I do plan on getting your name printed on my ass.” Bucky jokes and smiled as he moved, he looked like he was walking up a flight of stairs from peters angle, but the setting looked different from the steps that he had at his own home.

“Hey, Buck? Where are you right now?” Peter asks curiously and cocked his head to the side, before he suddenly heard a small knock at the door, and the call with his boyfriend ended. “You did not..” Peter mumbled to himself and opened the door back up, revealing none other than his boyfriend, in a semi-heavy winter coat and simple jeans with his boats, and a larger suitcase.

“Hey there, dollface.” James said and smirks softly, reaching down to lift Peter up in his muscular arms.

Peter could not believe what he was seeing, but he quickly wrapped his arms around the other, leaning into his touch more now. “You did not come all this way just to see me..” he said and moved to rake his fingers through the others hair, smiling happily. “I was literally coming to California for my spring break!” Peter said and cupped the others face in his hands, giving him a small, playful, smirk.

“Yep, Im staying with my ma until your spring break, and then we're gonna fly back to Cali, together this time.” he smiled and kissed peter right on his forehead, humming softly to himself. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

#winterspider #bucky/peter #peter/bucky #bucky barnes/peter parker #long distance relationship #mostly fluff #honestly ill write another part if yall want it #mentions of tony stark #mentions of bruce banner #mentions of buckys family #peter is a biochemistry major #buckys job is unspecified #i wrote this at school

[bucky-of-the-opera]

Keep on Loving You

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve gets some TLC after the battle at Starcourt Mall.

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, slight smut (sfw), nudity (non-explicit)

Word Count: 3,202

A/N: Apparently, it’s become a regular thing for Steve to take a beating, so I felt obligated to write a fic where someone takes care of him for once. Steve “The Hair” Harrington deserves it.

As you entered Scoops Ahoy for what must have been the thousandth time that summer, you spotted your boyfriend, Steve. He was currently talking to his coworker, Robin. His sailor uniform always brought a smile to your face, even if he hated it.

Steve’s back was facing you, so Robin brought his attention to you in her usual pleasant fashion. “Hey dingus,” she said coolly, “your girlfriend — who is way out of your league by the way — is waiting at the counter.”

He rolled his eyes at her and then spun around to greet you, his face lighting up as his eyes fell on you. “Ahoy, Y/N! Here for your usual?” he asked, resting both hands on the counter.

“Not today,” you responded. “I was actually coming to tell you that I’ll be out of town for a few days; my parents and I are leaving tomorrow to help my grandma move and get settled into her new place.”

“Gee, thanks for the heads up,” he said, dropping his head into his hands. He looked like a disheartened child who was just told that he couldn’t have dessert until he finished his vegetables.

“I’m sorry it’s such short notice. My aunt was supposed to help her move, but she had to pick up an extra shift at work.”

Steve groaned. “First Henderson leaves me, and now my girlfriend’s leaving me too.” He picked up a discarded straw wrapper and twirled it around his fingers. “When will you be back?”

“Probably really late on the third so we can be back for the Fourth of July festival.”

“Can I come over tonight after my shift?” he asked.

You scratched the back of your neck, trying to avoid his eyes. “I don’t know. I still have a lot of stuff I have to get done before I leave, and I haven’t even started packing.” You glanced at his face, which was a mistake; he was giving you the most pathetic puppy dog eyes and pout combination you’d ever seen. How could you say no to that face?

“Fine,” you sighed. “But I seriously have to finish all of my packing tonight.” You pointed your finger at him. “That means no distractions from you.”

He gave you a Cheshire Cat-like grin as he crossed his fingers behind his back. “No distractions. I promise.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure you do,” you said, as you leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, Steve.” You waved a quick goodbye to Robin and then walked out of the ice cream shop.

Steve’s eyes followed you until you had completely left his field of view. He momentarily forgot that he was still at work and nearly jumped out of his skin when Robin shouted at him. “Earth to Harrington! You have another customer!”

He muttered an apology as he tended to the next person in line, counting down the hours until he could see you again.

***

Later that night, you were in your room throwing together some outfits to put into your suitcase. Your radio was playing an REO Speedwagon song which you started dancing along to. You spun around and unexpectantly came face to face with your boyfriend.

“Shit! You can’t sneak up on me like that Steve!” You clutched your chest, waiting for your heart rate to return to normal.

He laughed and placed both of his hands on your waist before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry. Your mom let me up, and I didn’t want to interrupt your dance party.”

You huffed and folded your arms, which made Steve pull you closer. He leaned his head down and spoke softly into your ear. “Don’t be mad sweetheart. I thought we could have some fun before you leave tomorrow.” His words sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hands found their way around the back of Steve’s neck, and your fingers started their normal routine of playing with his hair. He never let anyone but you touch his hair; it was an intimate moment shared between the two of you. Steve lowered his head to where your neck and shoulder meet, while you moved one of your hands upward to lightly scratch his scalp. You gave his hair a slight tug, making him moan. He retaliated by nipping and swirling his tongue against the curve of your neck, causing you to gasp.

“Steve…” you groaned, trying to muster up the will power to push him away. “I told you earlier: no distractions. I haven’t finished packing yet.”

Steve reluctantly detached himself from you. Too soon for your liking, if you were being honest. He looked around your room and spotted the pile of clothes on your bed. Then he grabbed several pairs of shorts and a few tops and tossed them into your suitcase.

“There,” he said triumphantly, “all done.”

“So, I’ll be walking around barefoot, wearing no bra and no underwear?”

He smirked at you. “Sounds good to me.”

You shook your head and began folding all the clothes he had tossed into your suitcase. “You are no help at all Steve Harrington. Go sit down and wait for me to finish.”

“Fine,” Steve groaned, collapsing backwards onto your bed.

You chuckled and went back to your packing, singing along to a new song that had started playing.

Steve watched you as you worked, wondering how the hell he was going to survive the next few days without you.

***

“All done,” you announced after you had finished packing. You looked up to see Steve sitting on your bed propped up against your pillows. He had picked up one of your magazines and seemed very enthralled by whatever article he was reading. You rolled your eyes and walked over to the bed, tugging the magazine out of his grasp to set it on your nightstand.

“I was reading that,” he said, glancing up at you.

You climbed on top of him, placing one leg on each side of his lap. Your fingers found their way back into his hair as you began playing with his long locks once more. “I know you were, but I thought we could have some fun before I leave tomorrow,” you said, reiterating what he suggested earlier.

Steve didn’t have to be told twice. He launched himself forward, crashing his lips against yours. You smiled into the kiss as he wrapped his hands around your waist once more to pull you closer. He traced your bottom lip with his tongue before taking it between his teeth. When he moved one of his hands downward to graze your thigh with his fingers, you had to stifle a giggle. Steve trailed kisses across your jaw and down your neck, but you couldn’t hold in your laughter any longer.

He pulled his head back to look at you and chuckled as well. “Why are you laughing?!”

“I can’t help it! I’m ticklish!”

“Well, I’m trying to put the moves on you, but you’re making it a little difficult to be honest.”

You giggled again and cupped his face with your hands. Steve felt his heart skip a beat every time he heard your laughter. You smiled at him as your thumbs brushed his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Stevie.”

God, he loved when you called him that. He rested his forehead against yours and sighed. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I’ll be gone for less than a week,” you responded. He groaned and dropped his head onto your shoulder. You left one hand tangled in his hair and ran the other one up and down his back. “Do you have to work on the Fourth of July?”

“Yeah. It sucks, but they’re letting me out a few hours early since it’s a holiday.”

“My family and I are going to the festival to see the fireworks. Do you wanna meet me there after work?”

His hands squeezed your waist. “Absolutely. I’ll even win you a giant teddy bear,” he said, smiling against your shoulder.

“Promise?” you asked.

Steve pulled his head back to look at you before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I promise.”

***

Steve hadn’t answered any of your phone calls after the first night that you had called him from your grandma’s house. You tried to come up with a rationalize reason as to why your boyfriend had been dodging your calls, but your brain was psyching you out. A million different scenarios were running through your head: he wasn’t home when you called, he was in the hospital, or he was going to break up with you.

By the time you got home, it was too late to call Steve. You waited until morning when the mall was open to drive over, and ran straight to Scoops Ahoy. When you reached the store you stopped dead in your tracks: the gate was down. Every other place in the mall was open except for Scoops Ahoy. Maybe both Steve and Robin were sick and called off, leaving no one able to run the store. If he was sick, then he was at home. So you got back into your car and drove over to his house. You banged on his door for a full minute, but no one answered. Even when you started chucking rocks at Steve’s bedroom window there was no answer. You were dumbfounded; you didn’t know what to do or where else to look, so you drove back home.

A few hours later, your parents were about to leave for the festival. Your mother came into your room where you were lying on your bed, staring at the phone.

“Are you going out dressed in your pajamas?” she asked.

You glanced towards her and then back at the phone, willing it to ring. “I’m not going. I’m not in a very festive mood.”

Your mother knew not to push you when you were in a bad mood. She kissed the top of your head and told you she would keep an eye out for Steve before leaving your bedroom.

When the sun had finally set, you decided to go outside and watch the fireworks from your driveway. Watching them seemed more appealing than waiting for your phone to ring, anyway. You hopped onto the hood of your car and waited for the display to start. Lately, it seemed like all you were doing was waiting.

***

The fireworks distracted you for a while, but they weren’t able to lighten your mood. You started to make your way back inside just as a helicopter flew overhead. When you looked up, you saw at least a dozen more. It seemed like they were flying towards the Starcourt Mall. You were out of ideas, so you hopped into your car and followed them.

Your suspicion was right; the helicopters landed in the mall parking lot. The sight before you left you awestruck: the mall was on fire. The very mall that you had spent your whole summer shopping at; the mall where your boyfriend worked. What if he was trapped inside when the fire started? You felt sick. You needed to find Steve; you needed to know that he was ok.

Stepping out of your car, you took everything in: the flashing lights and sirens on the emergency vehicles and the soldiers swarming towards the mall. When you looked over at the ambulances, you saw some familiar faces: Mike, Eleven, Will, and his mother. Even Nancy and Johnathan were huddled in the back of an ambulance. But there was someone else standing in front of that ambulance. You knew immediately as you saw the mane of brown hair. He didn’t even need to be in a sailor uniform for you to notice him: it was Steve.

You took off, running as fast as your legs could carry you. “STEVE!” you shouted as you got closer. He spun around and locked eyes with you.

��Y/N!” He ran to meet you halfway. The blanket that had been wrapped around his shoulders fell to the ground. When you finally reached each other, you jumped into his arms, causing him to stumble backwards. You clutched the back of his uniform, holding him as tight as you could.

Only when he started to tremble did you finally pull back to examine his face. His left eye was badly swollen, and he had a gash on his lip. You placed your hand on the right side of his face. He leaned into your touch as a tear slipped down his cheek.

“Stevie, what happened to you?” you cooed.

Steve cleared his throat. “You know, the usual. Attacked by a monster from another dimension and kidnapped by Russians who had a secret base underneath the mall.” He tried to laugh it off until he saw the worried look on your face. “It’s all over now, Y/N. I’m fine.”

You looked into his eyes, tears threatening to spill from your own. “Are you sure?”

“I’m… I—” he swallowed. His grip tightened on your waist. “No. I’m not okay. I’m not…” he trailed off, unable to hold back the sobs that came.

“Oh, Stevie.” You wiped away the tears that had begun to fall down his cheek. “Let me take you home,” you whispered. He nodded, and you took him by the hand to lead him to your car.

***

On the drive over you tried to coax more out of him, but he wouldn’t go into any more detail of what had happened to him. He had told you a few weeks after you two started dating that he had fought off a creature that Dustin had called a Demodog. Maybe another one of those had gotten loose in the mall? The so-called “Russian invasion” was still a mystery to you, but you knew Steve would talk about it when he was ready.

“Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll get you some clean clothes,” you said to him when you walked inside his house. His parents were still out of town on a business trip, so you two had the place to yourselves.

Steve’s hand was holding yours, and when you tried to walk away, he only held on tighter. You looked back at him, but he was staring at the ground.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, switching his gaze to you.

“Always,” you said as the both of you walked hand in hand to the bathroom.

You turned the shower on and spun around to see Steve undressing. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw his torso: it was covered in purple and blue bruises. He glanced over at you and saw you staring at them, so he turned to examine himself in the mirror.

“They’re not as bad as they look. I mean, they hurt like hell,” he shrugged. “But it could be worse.” You looked down at your feet as he finished undressing; in all the months that you had been together you still hadn’t seen each other completely bare. “I don’t mind,” he said when he saw your trepidation. “I’ve been informed that I’m very easy on the eyes,” he smirked.

You giggled and walked up to him, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “You are, indeed, Mr. Harrington.” He smiled down at you. “Now get in there,” you nodded at the shower. “You stink.”

Steve stepped inside and gave you a wink before closing the curtain. You leaned against the sink and stared at the shower. You could have so easily lost him tonight; you didn’t want to waste any more time stressing over trivial things.

Releasing a breath that you didn’t realize you’d been holding, you stripped yourself of your clothing and peeled back the curtain to join Steve. He was in the middle of lathering his hair with shampoo when he froze, seeing you fully exposed to him. His eyes widened as you stepped closer. You brought your hands to his hair, working through the rest of the shampoo. Steve moaned in appreciation, closing his eyes to savor the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp. He brought his hands to your backside, cupping your ass and squeezing gently. You gasped at his touch, making him chuckle. When you finished scrubbing his hair, you tilted his head backwards so you could rinse out the shampoo. While his eyes were still closed, you leaned forward to kiss him again. You dragged your tongue along his lower lip, being mindful of the cut.

“Steve…” you whispered against his lips. You felt tears pricking your eyes.

He pulled you closer so that there was no space left between you both. Steve lowered his head to press soft kisses from your jaw down to your shoulder. When he started to head towards you chest, you stopped him.

“Stevie.”

He pulled back to look at your face and saw the tears falling down your cheeks. Steve leaned his forehead against yours and held you close while the water cascaded over your bodies.

“You look so tired,” you said after getting a good look at the dark circles under his eyes. “Let me finish washing your hair so you can get some sleep.” He didn’t argue, just stood still for you as you conditioned his hair and rinsed it out once more.

While you were drying off, you heard Steve’s stomach growl. “When was the last time you ate?” you asked.

“I don’t remember.”

You frowned and wrapped the towel tightly around yourself. “Go put something comfortable on. I’ll get you some food.”

You went down to the kitchen to make him a sandwich while he got dressed. When you came back upstairs, you found Steve nodding off. He was half dressed as he sat on his bed with his shirt in his hands. You set the plate on his nightstand next to a glass of water and walked over to him. Taking the shirt from him, you woke him gently so he could help you get his arms through it.

“Eat your food and drink some water. Then you can sleep,” you said to him.

Steve took the sandwich and scarfed it down while you rummaged through his drawers. You took out one of his shirts and pulled it over your head.

After Steve placed the plate on his nightstand next to the now empty glass, he climbed under the covers. He motioned for you to join him, so you laid down beside him. Steve adjusted himself so that his head was lying on your chest and his leg was strewn across both of yours. You stroked his damp hair, and he sighed deeply.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he mumbled against your chest. “I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too, Stevie,” you responded softly as he drifted off to the sound of your heart beating. You smiled to yourself. It was the first time both of you had said the L word to each other. You weren’t sure how much Steve would remember in the morning, but you promised yourself that from now on, you would always remind him of how much you loved him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic

[magic5ball]

Nature Trail to Hell Arc IV: Megamart of Darkness (6)

Chapter 6: Franklin vs. Penn: Ultimate Grudge Match

“I’m sorry,” He said, all polite-and-founding-father like, “but the museum is now closed. Those who do not leave WILL BE EXTERMINATED. As I always say, early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and NOT DEAD! Thank you so much for visiting the Franklin Institute, and please come back tomorrow, when I WON’T KILL YOU!”

           Unfortunately for Silverstein, I’d been in situations like this a thousand times before. See, when you get in trouble, be it trying to flood the house, drawing pictures on the walls, or just plain old putting fireworks in your breakfast cereal, you learn real quick to always have a buddy (or little brother) on standby. Why? Because-

“It was them, Mr. Franklin!” I cried, pointing my index finger. “They started it!”

Then I ran. Always run before they can think long enough to punish you!

There was a loud Pop as Ben Franklin cracked his knuckles.

“A fool and his money are soon parted, as is a certain Quaker and his life if he does not leave now. I once said visitors and fish stink after three days, but you were rotten on arrival, pacifist!”

Penn stamped his foot so hard it cracked the floor, accepting the challenge. “I may not believe in fighting, but soon you shall see why they call us the Quakers, you impoverished d!ck!”

“Uhh… guys? I’m still here.” Said Silverstein, just in time for Penn to kick him into a marble pillar.

“The child is mine to reprimand, you fool!”

“’Tis not!”

“’Tis too!”

“’Tis not!”

           As much as I wanted to hear a riveting philosophical debate between two of PA’s most famous citizens, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to getting crushed by giants, either. Instead I ran. I ran so far away. Now, keep in mind I hadn’t been to the museum since I was five, which made searching out the train an absolute pain. Having two giant men bumbling behind me didn’t exactly help.

All I could think was runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun.

           It should have been easy: all I needed to do was find that stupid train, bring it to life with gold dust, and vamoose! If only I could remember which room the darn thing was in! Instead, I ran through rooms filled with electricity, weather, and ‘shudder’ physics. Sometime along the way, I realized this is where parents put all the boring sciences nobody cared about, locking them away from the rest of the world. This wasn’t a museum, this was a prison. A prison of learning.

           Then there were Ben Franklin and William Penn hot on my tail, reducing rooms to rubble as they went. I had no idea what would happen when all that science got released into the world, but I didn’t want to find out. At least they seemed more interested in each other than me. Until Ben Franklin stuffed Penn’s body up a working Tesla coil, that is. Penn might have recovered, had he been made of something other than bronze. Instead, the room exploded in a burst of electricity, Franklin and I leaping out in the nick of time like a pair of action heroes.

           Of course, without Penn to distract him, I had to contend with Big Ben himself (and Silverstein, whenever the heck he got back in the fight). So now on top of finding Baldwin (seriously, how hard can finding a 400,000 pound choo-choo train possibly be?!) I had the world’s angriest founding father on my tail, spitting maxims at me. Maxims that were also really bad puns about my demise (that I may or may not still sometimes hear in my sleep).

“I once said three can keep a secret if two of them are dead. So far, one down, one to go!”

I slammed my knuckles to my head.

Come on, Watt! Think, thiiinnnnkkkkkk!

I pumped my ten year old legs hard enough to pop my knees off, the air pushing back against me like concrete. There was a flash; the world spun. Then everything was still. Absolutely still.

                                                          .   .   .

           When I opened my eyes, I back at the Franklin Institute. Srta. Now, it was day and there were tons of guests. And in that great thong of guests was none other than five year old me being dragged along his parents. 

Fist, I was right confused about what the hey was going on, when it struck me that just last year I managed to run faster than the speed of light, going back through time. But back then, I’d sprained my ankle so I shouldn’t have been able to go that fast again. This had to be an illusion! Unless...

Unless, being a soul now, my ghost ankle wasn’t sprained, which, combined with my dinosaur feet, had let me run fast enough to break he sound barrier again and go back to the day my parents first took me to this hell of learning! Should I have been worried I wasn’t more shocked? Maybe, but all my mind could think of was how I distinctly remembered seeing a giant train as the last stop on my visit. It took my nerve wracked mind five seconds to churn out a plan. And so began the first (but sadly, not last) time I would find myself stalking somebody.

           Funny about stalking. In the movies they make it look like some daring spy espionage thing while some awesome music plays in the background. Fact is, you spend most of it just sitting around searching for that perfect mix of part of the crowd, but not so much you’ve lost your target, the whole time internally screaming Darn it, kid! Put down the plastic stegosaurus and get a move on to the trains already! (I also felt tempted to tell him throwing Steggy into incoming traffic on the way home was a terrible idea even by 5-year-old standards, but that’s the sort of thing that causes time paradoxes, so I kept my mouth shut.) Seriously, it’s no wonder I didn’t remember squat about the place! And somehow, despite having his face in front of a dinosaur the whole time, little Watt spent hours in front of every exhibit (except the giant human heart, that one sent little me screaming for the exit until Mom convinced him there were no ghosts in there). If it weren’t for Dad grumbling how ‘we should’ve just gone to the dinosaurs like we usually do’ while Mom countered with ‘we need to expand our son’s horizons’, I might have died of boredom for the third time that summer.

           One planetarium show later (which I sat outside for, seeing I didn’t have a ticket) they finally got a move on to the trains, which actually got little me to stop staring at his plastic dinosaur for five seconds. Heck, I found myself gaping at the darn thing (which of course was in an out of the way area most people wouldn’t even notice if it wasn’t on the map.)

           So I knew where the Baldwin was, now I could get going returning to my own time! As if on cue, a loudspeaker screamed

“ATTENTION GUESTS! IN FIVE MINUTES THERE WILL BE A DEMONSTRATION OF OUR TESLA COIL IN THE WONDERS OF ELECTRICITY EXHIBIT!”

           Mom, determined to get little me to see there was more to life than dinosaurs (Mom, I love you, but you’re wrong) immediately started dragging the family over. Naturally, I followed suit, knowing full well how this story ended.

Turned out, there was one other thing that could get little me to take his eyes off his plastic dinosaur for more than five seconds (that wasn’t a giant, fleshy organ in the middle of a museum hall). And that was seeing their future self running into the Tesla coil right as the demonstration began.

Have you ever been barbequed? Roasted so dark your skin feels like lava, then you can’t feel anything at all? Well, jumping into that coil was like that, and more. Only thing I could feel was my brains being spun around like clothes in a washer. All the while, I thought of that stupid giant heart. Whose heart did it even belong to, anyway, and who thought it was a good idea to put it in the middle of a museum hall where all a manner of kids could crawl through it to their heart’s content?

Whose heart was it?

But I already knew the answer, just like I know the history of dinosaurs. With that knowledge, I came up with the perfect plan.

And everything was still, absolutely still.

                                                         .   .   .

           When I got back up, it was nighttime in 2006, angry Ben Franklin and all. Quick on my feet, I ran to where the little kids go to learn how disgusting they are on the inside. Franklin followed close behind, each footstep a five on the Richter scale. If I wanted to pull my plan off, I couldn’t miss a beat. Running was a bit trickier, though: somehow, I’d sprained my ghost ankle from running so fast. Not that I really had time to wonder how that worked. 

Anyway!

           Most kids like theme parks. I was never one of them. You know why? Because of those creepy animal mascots! Just like clowns, there’s something inhuman about them! But at the end of the day, a thousand of those costumed freaks seemed less scary than Big Ben Franklin’s ticker. And this is coming from a guy who literally lived in the Underworld for a few weeks!

           Did you know it glows at night?! It freaking glows at night like some bloody Chinese lantern. While pulsing! It was enough to make me lose my lunch (or Cheetos, in this case) to the point where I wondered if being crushed to death in the marble hands of our first president might not be such a bad thing after all. (He was our first president, right?) But at the end of it all, I flinched. First I was fleeing from death, the next moment I was lodged somewhere in Big Ben’s left ventricle.

“Coward! Come out and face me!” He cried, punching a hole mere inches from my face.

I may or may have not screamed as blood splattered my face. For the next few minutes, it was a fight for survival. Franklin ripped open the heart, trying to grab me, and I didn’t know what would kill me first: Fists, or the guy’s cringy maxims.

“He who would sacrifice his freedom for security deserves neither!”

Punch.

“My energy and persistence will conquer all things-that includes your flimsy little bones!”

Slam!

I would have parried with quips of my own, but really, it’s kinda hard to come up with puns for ‘ventricle’. But in the end, I decided who lived a-or-ta died, so that’s neat.

Sure enough, the more Franklin punched, the more blood spread over his marble face, the slower the heat beat and the weaker he got, over and over and over…

“Nothing is… certain in life… but death and…”

Just like that, Ben Franklin collapsed on the floor. Now it was my turn for a witty one liner.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you an investment in knowledge pays the best interest? Fun fact about the heart: when it stops beating, you stop living.”

And with that, I went to my way toward the Baldwin, but not before Franklin gave me one last ominous warning.

“He who lives upon hope…”

I didn’t hear the rest because by then, he’d drowned in his own blood.

           So I ran to the best of my memory, diving down that staircase where they keep the pendulum thingy into the space travel exhibit (or as I like to call it: ‘You think it’s gonna be fun, but it’s not’.) And who do I see leaning against a replica lunar module but Smell Silverstein himself, looking mighty proud of himself

“Good evening, Watterson.” He said, all sinister-like. “You probably think you’ve been doing real good, busting up two of Pennsylvania’s most famous figures like that. Too bad, mother*cker! Because I’m Shel mother*ckin’ Silverstein, and now, you will be crushed by the wrath of Apollo, the Living Lunar Module!”

With as much charisma as he could muster, he took some dust from his pocket and splashed it on the space thing.

Nothing happened.

Shel looked at his hands, now a bright orange. “What the Stephen Hellenberg?! This isn’t gold dust, this is CHEESE PUFF DUST!”

           You know that gold dust Silverstein tried to snatch from me earlier? Too bad he didn’t have good night vision (the kind you get from constantly checking for monsters under your bed) otherwise he’d have noticed I’d pulled the ol’ switcheroo on him. 

And I made certain he wouldn’t have time to correct his mistake. 

You ever rammed a guy twice your size before? The key is to catch them by surprise, because even if you’re an eighty pound wimp like yours truly, if the other guy isn’t expecting it, they’ll topple like a domino, bang their head on the leg of a lunar module, and that will be that.

           Of course, I didn’t exactly have time to celebrate my victory. With what little energy I had left, I tottered over to the train exhibit. For a moment I’d expected the worst, but there it was, black, long, and big as a house: the Baldwin 60000, the greatest locomotive ever designed by man. Right where I’d left it. Climbing into the cockpit, I opened the firebox, pouring every last ounce of Penn’s gold dust inside. The whole thing shimmered as streams of gold circled the train, like some kind of magic spell.

“What the f*ck?!”

A deep booming voice erupted from right out of nowhere.

“Where am I? What is this place?! How the hell am I talking?!”

“Hey, relax-“

“And now there’s a voice in my head!”

“Actually, my name’s Watt, and I’m gonna bust you out of here.”

“Well I’m not interested! If you’ll excuse me, I have to go back to being the greatest steam engine in America!”

I slapped my head, finally realizing my Mom put up with this crap every time she put me to bed at night.

“C’mon, Baldwin, I nearly got sent to the Underworld, MULTIPLE TIMES I might add, trying to rescue you!”

“Then if you want a train so badly, go to Rocket over there! He’d probably help you out!”

Rocket was a dinky little rust bucket who probably couldn’t outrun a fourth grader, much less crush a Wegmart Greeter. In fact, I’m still not sure if that thing even qualified as a train.

Fortunately, my Mom put up with this crap every time she put me to bed, so let’s just say I knew a little about getting people to do what you want.

“Fine then,” I said, putting up my hands and making an exasperated sigh. “Guess you won’t have the chance to be famous, then.”

“How?!” The desperation in his voice was palpable.

“Oh, I just wanted you of run over a Wegmart Greeter and help some geese get their nesting grounds back. It would get you in the papers. But I could just go over to Rocket, since you insisted…”

A whistle erupted. “NO! NO! You definitely want me! Ever since I’ve somehow gained a consciousness, all I’ve had the inescapable urge to do something stupid that’ll land me in the papers! I’m a very useful engine, I SWEAR! Please don’t leave meee!”

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes “Okay, but promise you’ll do everything I say, alright.”

“Yes, yes! Anything for fame!”

Just at that moment, William Penn barged in, creating a giant Quaker shaped hole in the wall. His hair was a bit frazzled, but other than that he looked just as dandy as when I first saw him.

“Halt, Wastrel! In the name of Penn-“

“CHARGE!” I screamed.

With an ear shattering whistle Baldwin rammed forward, shattering Penn’s bronze butt into a million pieces. But we didn’t stop there. No, we kept going through the museum, out the other end, and…

“We’re going to crash into traffic!”

“Don’t worry, kid! You just have to belieeeeevvvveeeee!”

“How is that supposed to-“

“Do you want to ram through a traffic jam or not?!”

So I did. I hugged the firebox, believing we might somehow get away with all this. Gradually, the ground stopped screeching beneath us. When I finally found the courage to look down, we were a hundred feet in the air. I wondered what passersbys would think when they looked up to see a seven hundred thousand pound train making a silhouette as it passed over the moon.

“What the heck is happening?!”

“Magic, kid! The Magic of BELEIVING, MOTHERFORKER!” He tooted his whistle triumphantly “Just don’t stop, or we all fall to our deaths. I’ll even sing a song to help you remember!”

“No that’s-“

“Don’t stop! Beleivviiiinnnngg!”

I screamed all the way back to the pond.

                                                          .   .   .

Just like I promised, Baldwin did get in the papers. Specifically, an article in the National Esquirerer titled

“Lascivious Locomotive Finishes Founding Father! Makes Daring Escape into the Heavens!”

Right beneath an article about one of the most pressing issues of our time:

‘Hannah Montana: the American Beethoven?’

#My writing #Nature Trail To Hell #william penn #ben franklin #the franklin institute #train #baldwin 60000

[lya1989]

Lover

aka Love her

Before you read my analysis I would like to say that I’m gay. so is the song. if you think so too, then proceed along.

There will be three components to this analysis,

1. the lyrics

2. the video/visual

3. the song/melody/references to things

and how they all made the song gay so I don’t have to invest my gay in it like Hayley Kiyoko does with songs she likes.

Let’s start with the lyrics:

Verse 1 We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January This is our place, we make the rules And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

The first line has a similar vibe to New Year’s Day. Not only are they celebrating special occasions together but also staying with each other on all the days in between said holidays. (i like to remind you about the christmas tree in ME mv)

The second lines hint at having a place (taylor’s tribeca loft) together which definitely makes it easier for Taylor and her lover (i love this rhyming phrase. a lot) to spend time together in private. No paparazzi means no possible media backlash. They don’t have to fear that strangers are watching, talking and screaming cause it happened before. (see hear: Wonderland)

Not only privacy, they could also “make the rules”. They don’t have to conform to societal pressures, such as whether to come out or to stay in the closet. In their house, (which is basically a multi-story closet) they could be free. Loving each other is never taboo or restricted. In fact, they could control the narrative, who truly knows them, by inviting them to their place. Like their closest friends and family.

Also:

Following the 2nd line analysis, I’m skipping the chorus (which i will touch on later) and going straight gay into verse 2.

Verse 2 We could let our friends crash in the living room This is our place, we make the call And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Again emphasis on making the rules and the call. Only they could choose who knows and who don’t. (Also Taylor and Karlie have more mutual friends with each other than Taylor and her “boyfriends”)

And also a little jealousy from Taylor. This is not unexpected since Karlie is stunting with J**h. There’s also an alleged wedding, so Taylor’s feelings are completely valid. 

“Three summers” is an important piece of information because it gives us a timeline. Joe and Taylor started “dating” around uh... time for a google search.

PopSugar wrote 

But it doesn't make sense for Taylor to get into a relationship with Joe literally two weeks after she broke up with Tom unless he’s a rebound or a contract beard.

A verified contributor to TripAdvisor explained

Let’s say Joe is a rebound but they started dating during fall. That means they only had two summers together at the very most.

So no. Joe is not a rebound which means...

Do you know who has more than three summers with Taylor? Karlie.

In fact, they met at 2013 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. 

Ok, then what happened on 28 September 2016?

Since they had the Big Sur trip in 2014, I can safely say they were best friends.

As time passed, feelings would definitely be developed into something more.

“You’re my best friend” - You Are In Love, released on 27 October 2014

“I don’t want you like a best friend.” - Dress, released on 10 November 2017

“You're my, my, my, my lover” - Lover, released on 16 August 2019 (today!)

I will explain it as we go further. Now on to the long-awaited chorus.

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home (Forever and ever) You're my, my, my, my lover

Taylor, like we all do, have questions. She uses this style of writing in her songs, (eg “are we out of the woods yet?” “isn’t it, delicate?” “who could stay?”), and it’s always in the chorus and usually repetitive. 

The lyrics in the chorus are quite straightforward. And they are written that way because they provide such a simple frame to showcase such complex emotions.

“Can I go where you go?” shows so much longing and yearning to be with Karlie (and im so fucking soft for this). When you first hear this, the first thought that comes to your head is why can’t Taylor go where her lover go. Then the realisation hits you that if her lover was Joe going wherever he goes isn’t much of a problem but if Taylor’s lover is Karlie, a woman, that’s where all the complications lie. Homophobia, media backlash and people with nothing better to do would just create more hate towards both of them.

“Can we always be this close forever and forever?” This line has a implies that they are physically together and all is well. But then she worries about when is the next time she could be with Karlie again. Will it be a long time?

Metaphorically speaking, if when something big happens, will Karlie be distant from her. 

The third line shows Taylor’s wildest dreams that one day they could go out together without any of the complications and when they are home together, Karlie will stay forever.

(Left: Taylor and fireworks. Right: Karlie and Taylor and fireworks)

Welcome to Bridge City

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue All’s well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

Remember you asked what happened on 28 September 2016? 

2016 is most probably the worst year for Taylor in her career. Let say that she wrote reputation in late 2016 to early 2017. Since she not only writes about recent experiences but also nostalgia (and reputation is about finding TRUE love despite being hated by said people who has nothing better to do), it would be fitting to write about Karlie. More specifically, the realisation when she loves Karlie romantically.

In this city, the lyrics mimic a wedding speech said by the groom/bride. It is a common gesture to stand as the bride/groom says their wedding vows to each other. 

The words “borrowed” and “blue” references to an old traditional wedding rhyme on what a bride should wear at her wedding:

“something old

something new

something borrowed

something blue

and a sixpence in her shoe.”

“All’s well that ends well” means that if the outcome of a situation is a happy one, it cancels out all of the unpleasantness faced on the journey. To Taylor, ending up with Karlie is the best possible outcome, and all the hardships will be worth it.

So it other words, marriage is something Taylor and her lover wants. Usually, before someone gets married, they are engaged. So I conclude that 28 September 2016, three summers ago, is the official anniversary of their engagement. (gasp in mock shock) (they might be engaged around August in Wyoming see Karlie insta)

Not to be worried, she will be overdramatic because drama loves her. And she will be TRUE to Karlie because what they have is TRUE love.

(if you do not know what “all eyes on us” means click here)

In the lyric video, word “overdramatic” has a space in between. Over dramatic as if she’s finally going to stop being in the center of drama? (not that she can help it when drama loves her)

I love the phrase “dirtiest jokes” because it shows how comfortable they are with each other. (this is funny cause Taylor’s parents would leave the room just to not hear dress)

And now they are bound together by love, Taylor will always treat Karlie as her other half, hence saving a seat (beside her,  at the head/end of the table facing each other, etc), as they are of equal standing. Two halves of a whole. Yin and Yang.

Even with all the proof mentioned above, hets be like “but Taylor sang the magnetic force of a man.”

First of all, it’s a publicity stunt. She does it all the time (eg naming her song style)

Second,

(check out @badcode )

3. Analysis on everything else

Lover is the complete opposite of The Archer. It has 1989 sounds with a county feel that make you feel soft with a tinge of sentimentality and wonder.

The lyrics are reputation styled which talks about TRUE love and contentment. 

The bridge, in particular, is a glow up from speak now.

Also the usage of feminine terms of endearment such as babydoll, darling, dear, honey in her songs. I honestly cannot imagine taylor calling any of her “boyfriends” them.

(im just like god is a woman and her name is taylor swift)

Some fun facts that might blow your mind (click link):

-Track 3

-The length of Lover is 3:41. and 1:43 means i love you

-Why You Are In Love is not entirely about her friend’s perspective. Also

TLDR; Lover is a song about Taylor and Karlie’s wedding.

There’s a reason why the song (and the album) is called Lover and not Husband.

#taylor swift #gaylor swift #kaylor #queer analysis #lover #if i have wrong info or you want to add on or remove pls dm me

[immortal-imagines]

Hot For Teacher - Part 1

Summary: Crushing on your new, hot neighbour is one thing, but when he turns out to also be your professor; well, that’s another story.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,  Part 5,  Part 6 Part 7

(Professor!Gwilym Lee x Reader)

Warnings: Smut, swearing, fluff

Word Count: 1,725

A/N: Here we are, my first smut. Well, it’s somewhat smutty. In comparison to other things, this series is probably extremely tame! Just addressing my kink and one true love Gwilym. Judge me as you will! Hope you enjoy this series! Also, shoot-out to my girl Cara ( @rogerina-is-hotter-than-me ) for encouraging me to do this! Send some love to her and her awesome blog!

The apartment building rarely got new arrivals, but with the end of the term came exam results and, as it turned out, your neighbour didn’t pass. One minute she was a prominent member of the block, with her loud, late night parties. The next, her apartment was empty and she was on her way back home to her parents. Well, you thought, What a waste of tuition money.

Aside from her, you had been the only student in that building. You had specifically chosen an area that was a fair distance away from the university, mostly because you didn’t want to have to deal with the wild parties. That plan had failed. You did feel a little sorry for your neighbour, but also extremely grateful because finally you could have some peace and quiet. You just hoped the next person to move in would be a little more respectful.

You sat on your bed in your room, a book on your lap, glasses balanced on the end of your nose. Your phone rested between the pages of the book. A YouTube video displaying the latest drama online was playing. You had tried to focus on the thousand-page epic that your lecturer had set you before the term had ended, but it was just so damn boring. Thankfully, that lecturer had gone on maternity leave. Perhaps the new one would be more considerate with the work load. As the summer holiday was coming to a close and the new term rapidly approached, you should have been cramming. However, the internet tea seemed far more interesting.

“For fucks sake,” you heard a man’s voice grunt through the wall. Pausing the video, you stood and walked out of your room and towards the front door. Peering through the peep-hole, you tried to see the source of the commotion. A tall, dark-haired man was heaving boxes into the apartment next door. He was dressed in a white, button-up shirt, which was only partially done up, and grey suit trousers. An unusual outfit for moving, you thought. He ran his hand through his hair, sighing out of frustration. You smiled a little to yourself. This man could have as many parties as he wanted. He was far too handsome to argue with. You felt like your legs might just turn to jelly at the prospect of confronting him.

Regardless of the butterflies in your stomach, you let your rational side take a backseat. Where was the harm in seeing if this attractive stranger needed help moving in? You checked your reflection in the hallway mirror, grateful that you’d showered this morning. Your hair was tied in a messy bun and you wore an over-sized hoody. Not bad, you thought, Suitably suggestive.

You pushed your glasses up your nose and opened the front door. Leaning against the door frame, you said, “Can I help you with that?”

The man looked up, his blue eyes making you melt. Your confidence faltered under his gaze. As if things couldn’t get anymore difficult, he smiled, a perfect, lopsided grin that would stop traffic. Okay, a little overdramatic, you thought, Pull it together, (Y/N).

The man set down the box that was in his arms and straightened up. He held out a hand, which you shook. “Gwilym,” he said, “Nice to meet you.”

“(Y/N),” you smiled back, “Welcome to the building.”

“Thanks,” Gwilym replied, “You lived here long?”

“About a year now,” you said. In a sudden burst of confidence, you added, “Want to come inside for a cuppa? Take a break before you start heavy-lifting again?”

Gwilym chuckled, rubbing his beard, “You know what? That sounds amazing.” He kicked one of the boxes into his apartment and pushed the door shut. You walked into your own, with him close behind. You were instantly very conscious of the mess your living room was in. Although you took pride in being neat most of the time, the last couple of weeks had caused things to pile up. Trying to fit in all the uni work you were behind on had left little time for cleaning. Books and papers were strewn over the coffee table, along with empty mugs and pizza boxes. You picked a few of them up and threw them in the recycling.

“Sorry about the mess,” you said, blushing slightly, “It’s been a bit hectic around here.”

Gwilym laughed, picking up a copy of The Handmaids Tale, which had seemingly become a coaster judging by the rings on the cover. “You have good taste,” he complimented.

“It’s one of my favourites,” you smiled, gesturing to the well-thumbed pages and creased spine of the book. “Take a seat,” you pointed to the sofa, one of the few empty surfaces in the room. “How do you take your tea?”

Gwilym sat down, “Milk, no sugar.” You nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. You returned a few minutes later with two mugs, to find Gwilym flicking through one of the notepads that had been left open.

“You wrote this?” he asked, holding up it up.

“Yeah,” you said, “Just a little story I’m working on.” You grimaced when you saw which one of the many projects that you’d started he was reading. It was a pretty dark horror short story, one which many would be weirded out by.

“It’s really good,” he complimented. He put it down and took the mug from you. You sat down next to him, tucking your legs up under yourself, your foot accidentally brushing his leg as you did so. You winced, but couldn’t help the small part of you that felt a burst of electric upon contact. Instead of dwelling on it, you sad, “Thanks,” and took a sip of the tea.

“What brings you here?” you asked, hoping he hadn’t noticed the lapse in your confidence. Whether he had or not was unclear, but he shifted in his position so he faced you. His arm rested on the back of the sofa, just behind your head, the mug of tea in his other hand. There it was again, that spark.

“Work. I just got a new job up here, so decided to move closer, rather than commuting,” he said. You nodded, setting your mug down on the table.

“How old are you?” he asked, abruptly. Your confused expression caused pick to creep onto his cheeks. “Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you laughed, “I’m 24. Just starting my third year of uni. I was a late starter. I made the smart idea to go travelling with my boyfriend after school.”

Gwilym’s smile faltered at the word ‘boyfriend’.

“Ex-boyfriend, I should say,” you clarified, though you weren’t sure why you needed to. “He turned out to be a bit of an ass. Broke up with me in Rome and caught a plane back to England by himself.” You shrugged, “I had a great time without him though.”

Gwilym smiled, thoughtfully.

“How about you?” you asked, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Just turned 30,” he said, “And I’m a teacher. I’ve not been to Rome, though I’ve always wanted to.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said. You moved a little, to prevent your foot from cramping. You leg was now resting against his, whether by accident or on purpose. You weren’t going to admit that.

Absentmindedly, Gwilym’s fingers began playing with the loose strands of your hair that had escaped the bun. Ordinarily, you wouldn’t kiss a stranger. Who were you kidding? You’d kissed plenty of strangers. But usually you were drunk and in a club. Now, you were completely sober and sitting in your own home with your new neighbour, who was several years older than you. You couldn’t help the rush of warmth that spread to your core. Without thinking, you leant forward and pressed your lips to his. He immediately reacted, pulling your body towards him, his tongue gliding over your lips. His hands went to your face, holding it between his palms. You reached up and pulled the bun from the scrunchie, allowing his fingers to thread through your hair. You wrapped your arms around his neck. Before you could go any further, he pulled away.

Your face was flushed and his looked the same. You felt slightly embarrassed. Had he not wanted to kiss you? You’d met this man ten minutes ago. That was rushed, even for you. But, then again, he kissed you back.

Your rambling thoughts were interrupted, when he said, “Sorry, I don’t make a habit of kissing people I’ve only just met.”

You let out a shaky breath and smiled, your eyes darting up to meet his for a second. He ran a hand through his hair. There was an awkward pause. All you wanted to do was kiss him again. It had felt like fireworks. Now, you weren’t so sure if he wanted to do the same.

He cleared his throat and stood. “I should be going,” he said, walking to the door, “Got to finish unpacking. Thank you for the tea.” He opened the door and left without another word.

You sat for a moment in silence, not entirely sure how to read the situation. You figured you’d embarrassed yourself and leaving your apartment was no longer an option. Either that or you’d have to sneak to uni very early and hope he wasn’t on his way to work at the same time.

You groaned and flopped back on the sofa, covering your face with your hands. Why did you have to think with your vagina instead of your head? That is not how you greet the new neighbour.

Whilst you were dwelling on how embarrassed you were, Gwilym had managed to get the final boxes into his apartment. He sat on his bed, looking at the mess he had yet to unpack. He couldn’t even begin to think about that at the moment, when his thoughts were clouded with the image of you, just the other side of the wall. His lips were tingling, still feeling the aftereffects of yours. He sunk back on the bed and sighed. His trousers had grown a little tighter and he wished he’d stayed. However, that wasn’t the best idea. Regardless of the small age gap between you, he didn’t want things to be awkward. Unfortunately, it seemed too late for that.

Tag List: @rogerina-is-hotter-than-me

#gwilym lee #gwilym x reader #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee smut #gwilym smut #gwilym lee fluff

[tombolaplayspop]

Tombola & The Californian Gurl, or, How Tombola Came to Love Katy Perry

Summer 2013. I was working for a private bank in London and the early days of my 10 year career at this illustrious bank was to drive the partners of the business wherever they pleased. This could be for a lunch meeting with a client or even a quick dash to a fancy dress shop in Soho for a last minute costume idea.

One warm Friday afternoon, I was called upon by my manager for an airport run to Heathrow. I jumped to the chance as he offered the company car to me for the whole weekend and an early finish. I was always prepared for this kind of task as I held in my locker a folder with a dozen CD’s inside. So with some tunes in hand, I rolled up my sleeves, headed towards the car park and awaited my passenger. My journey to the airport was insanely quiet inside the car as passenger read his newspaper whilst I manoeuvred around the London traffic with majestic ease. Once at the destination, my passenger vacated the car, collected his luggage from the boot and was on his merry way.

Now, the fun would begin.

With an estimated 90 minute journey back to Essex ahead of me, I had a fully air conditioned car and a selection of tunes. But what to choose? I flicked through various artists such as Van Halen, Michael Jackson and P!nk but settled for someone I never quite saw eye to eye with musically; Katy Perry.

Let’s zip back five years prior to late 2008.

Katy Perry made waves with the single, I Kissed a Girl from her debut album One of the Boys. Ok, it was cheeky little ditty, but rather annoying. The initial “ooh la la” of Perry’s risqué lyrics did not stick with me in the long run as underneath the sauce, which was spread insanely thick, was a rather bland tune. The follow up, Hot ‘n’ Cold was a far better track in my opinion as it was jaunty and frivolous.With this in mind I decided to attend her 2009 Hello Katy world tour at Koko in London. And to this day, it is the worst gig I have ever attended. Where do I start? Her vocals were appalling, she spoke far too much between tracks and I was left incredibly dissatisfied. Because of this, my view of Perry was tarnished.

Scooting back to my journey home from Heathrow, whilst flicking through my CD folder, there she was, sprawled naked over a pink fluffy cloud gazing at me with her big doe eyes from the cover of her updated sophomore album, Teenage Dream: The Complete Confection. Now, as singles go, this album has three crackers; the nostalgic Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F), the sexually charged title track and the sickeningly sweet California Gurls. So, why not finally get round to listening to the whole thing.

Disclaimer, I used to buy a LOT of albums and never actually listen to them all the way through. Oh how that changed as I matured.

What I experienced on the way home was something quite outstanding. I actually enjoyed almost all of what I heard (ok, Firework is still one of those overplayed anthems that fills me with blaaaaagh), but as I pulled up at home I had a grin on my face and felt joyful for experiencing some new tunes. Later that year she released album number three, Prism. Being a compulsory purchaser of albums before I’ve heard them, I picked it up. I remember there being a free gift too; some seeds... don’t ask.

So what happened next? I didn’t even pop it in my CD player. The first three singles did not do anything for me. Roar was another bland anthem, Unconditionally was bore-off and Dark Horse was emotionless. Because of this, I switched off from anything else she released, which coincidentally, was the biggest mistake I’ve made (more on that later).

By the time 2017 rolled around, there were a slew of pop stars of the 2010’s all making waves such as Bieber, GaGa, Swift and Drake. All trying new things to stay relevant. Perry just didn’t fit in for me. I made a statement that she even tried to mimic her one time frenemy, Miley Cyrus, but chopping her locks off and opting for the pixie cut. I just wasn’t buying it.

Then something incredible happened. I became a father to two beautiful girls called Dottie and Roxie. Our favourite pastime is to pop YouTube on and dance around to music videos. Just like I did in the 90s with my dad and MTV. I started off by sharing the most bubblegum infused pop I could think of, the likes of Little Mix, Taylor Swift and the Spice Girls before dipping in to the past and showing them classics like Peter Gabriel’s Sledgehammer.

Now, you know how YouTube works, once a song finishes it finds something similar. It started to play Katy Perry. One track of hers in particular that my eldest calls “No Big Deal”. I’m talking about This Is How We Do, the fourth single from her third album that I had boyed off after single number three failed me! This track is everything; it’s catchy, it’s fun and you can dance along to it. More importantly, both of my daughters ask for it and are mesmerised by the dazzling video that accompanies it. Afterwards, we watched Birthday, the fifth single from the album which is the sweetest track ever. Then comes Chained to the Rhythm, Swish Swish and then back to the stuff I loved such as T.G.I.F.

My daughters lapped up the crazy side of Perry that I mistook for a desperate attempt at fitting in, shame on me. For I have judged when I just couldn’t get it until I saw both my daughters reactions and how happy it makes them. So, Katy, after all these years, I am sorry for shunning your creativity and glorious music. I now look forward to what you’ll produce next so I can play it to my girls. Thank you.

[optimisticpostchild-blog]

A Sunny Trip in Perpignan and Collioure

We are on a train to the center of the universe. It sounds like a doctor, or perhaps something like a hitch, but it is actually a seven-hour drive from Paris.

In 1963, when Salvador Dale visited Perignan, he had a view of the city station as Jacqueline Mantelle, the cosmic center of the universe, in which the proportions of the building perfectly reflected her creation. We will never find that paranoia or drug abuse is behind this vision, but he has interpreted it in a surgical painting since 1965 (La Gare de Perpignan, now at the Ludwig Museum in Cologne).

Dale also reported that sooner or later every train in Perpigan will change: the city is on its way from Spain to Barcelona and Girona to all French points. But those who use Perignon only as a stopover remember the small (120,000 inhabitants), an accessible, accessible city with a Catalan nature and a wonderful atmosphere - protecting the Pyrenees from the wind and rain in the west We do. It is also a place where liquor and rugby are two passions, with tourism being the distant third place.

It may be the center of the universe, but the Perpignan station is not in the center of Perpignan. We walk through the city on the lush green edges of the base and after 20 minutes reach the city of Rambilas with cafes and tree-lined walkways, reaching Kai Wooven - but without the crowds or selfies. To our left, the early 20th century is adorned with magnificent buildings. To our right is the deceptive medieval city - narrow roads that were few and not concentrated 800 years ago.

The iron ore located in the reef on the south coast is called the Vermilion Coast, and Perpignan is also red: an iron balcony carved on the old villa has a rusted colored leaf, red marble passages and a symbol of the city, dating back to the 14th century. From Castile de Guess is Castillo Gerais. Used for art exhibitions and fireworks, it is in early red brick. Nearby is the oldest church in St. John the Baptist, a pink stone near the huge cemetery in Campo Santo used for concerts and summer parties.

Secular buildings are equally beautiful. The Pink Casa Zenxo (Rue de la Main de Fer, Frey) was built in 1506 by a wealthy cloth merchant who was engraved on the front of seven deadly sins. After more than 30,000 years, the second family was blamed for not being rich in on-the-job cigarette papers and the artist Paul Gerwice created elegant hotel pamphlets (free) decorated with gold, marble, onyx and giant murals. .

To me, the best thing about this corner of the Mediterranean Sea is its importance for 20th century art. Since 1905, Mattis and Darren have been inspired on the beach, and before Daley made his revelation here, another Spanish talent, Picasso, was a regular visitor. He was good friends with the local family de Lazarme, whose former home was added just to Perignon's main gallery, Musi Rigaud (children under 8, 18). The collection goes back to the Gothic and Baroque period, but I prefer the quiet, expressive sculptures by Aristide Melol (1861–1944) and a delicate painting of Mrs. Paul de Lazerman in Picasso's Catalan clothing in 1954.

Last in The Lazarus, Paul said on his 80th birthday that he would leave town at home with the family. It took a long time: She was 22 years old and died in 2012 at the age of 102. The expanded gallery reopened in 2017.

Above Vertebral Water - Vermillion Coast, 20 minutes by train and our next floor - Hotel P. M. In the murals, lightly dressed women are playing with a backdrop of red and orange rocks above the cobalt water. Much of the western Mediterranean Sea is flat and lacks adequate facilities - although there are great beaches - but this has changed to the south of Peripignan, where the Pyrenees are in rubble, beautiful mountains are fortified, and beaches, scenic strips and sand is. Hides, meets the sea.

The collier, in a natural harbor with four beaches, looks like a large painting. Locals are forbidden to use black or white paint on their homes, so the city is a kaleidoscope of color schemes - light green woodwork, cream and royal blue, pink and blue in front of light green Covered with the sea and the hills - it was originally the Enkovi Bundar.

Also Read: https://igcaptions.weebly.com/blog/social-media-for-small-business

[ellixthea]

Unpredictable Part 1

A/N: Hi guys! I’m finally posting the first part! I hope you’ll like it! To be honest I’m really excited about this series ahah. Btw this part is quite long because i needed to settle the story for some reason so don’t worry if you only see mgk appears towards the end. He will definitely be a lot more present in the next parts 😉

“You can put your pen down. It’s over.” Your teacher told you. You did what you were told and gave a finally look at your paper before handing it. You were done with exams and school, at least for that year. You would get the result in a month and so you would know if you would be able to do your third year in university. You were still surprised how far you had come but you were quite happy about it. You walked outside of the building when you saw your group of friends waiting for you. “So how did it go?” asked one of your best friends, Lara. Lara and you applied to be in the same university in San Francisco and you were more than surprised when you both got the news that you were accepted there. “I think I did okay. What about you guys?” “I think I messed it up.” Replied your other best friend, Chris, that you have met during your first year. “Ohhhh come one! You always say that and end up getting the best grade.” Said your other friend Luke. It is funny to say that you all came from Ohio but only met in a different state. “I think we all deserve a reward. What about an ice-cream by the lake?” You suggested to your friends and they all agreed.

               You were all sitting by the lake, enjoying your first moment of summer when Lara started to talk about what activities you could all do when it hit you. The 4th of July was coming, and your parents were organizing a party and told you that you could invite some of your friends. With exams and all, you completely forgot about it even though it would be the next week. “Guys! My parents are throwing a party for the 4th and since it happens to be a Saturday it will be during the whole weekend. You guys can come if you want to.” “I’m definitely down!” Shouted Lara, obviously very excited about it. “Yes!! How about you guys?” You asked them and you could see Chris was disappointed. “I’m so sorry but my parents have planned this family trip and I have to go.” You could tell he felt bad for not coming but you totally understood. “I can’t either Y/N. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay guys don’t worry. We will still have the time to see each other though.” You replied and you all spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and enjoying ourselves.

               It was around 7p.m when you came back to your dorm. Since it was officially summer break. You had to pack all your stuff. You already had started since the beginning of the week, so you just had to put the remain books and clothes in your suitcases. As you were packing your books, the door opened and it was Autumn, your roommate. You were with her since your first year and to be honest you could not have asked for a better roommate. You would miss her during summer. She was standing by the door with a sad facial expression. “I hate goodbyes.” She told you and gave you a warm hug. “You know it’s only for a few months, right?” “I know but still.” She answered you, still hugging you. Even though you knew you would see each other in two months, the fact of not seeing her during all this time was making you sad. She became a good friend and you were so glad that she came into your life. She would be back in her hometown in Arizona while you would be back in yours in Ohio.  She eventually let go and looked at you in the eyes. “Try not to forget me okay?” She told you in an amused way, but you knew deep down that she really meant it. “Forget you? How can I?” You replied and you both laughed. “I better get some sleep; my flight is at 7a.m tomorrow.” You told Autumn before checking the clock. “Oh right! I was just passing by to say goodbye, mine is in 3 hours. Have a safe flight Y/N.” She told you and hugged you again. “Thanks, you too.” You replied and then she was gone. You changed into your pajamas, brushed your teeth before laying on the bed and eventually fell asleep.

               The alarm went off at 4a.m and all you could say was that it was too early. Your eyes felt heavy and it was hard to keep them opened. Even though you only wanted to go back to sleep, you had to get prepared to catch your flight. You took a quick shower, got dressed in very comfy clothes and put your hair into a bun. You did not bother to do your makeup because once again, it was too early for that. You got back in your room to take your suitcases. You gave a final look at the room, in case you would have forgotten something. You called an uber and soon you were on your way to the airport. When you arrived there, you grabbed something to eat and you waited for what felt like ages. When you heard throughout the speakers that you could abroad, you made your way to the door written on your ticket and then you were on your way to Ohio.

               It was 10 a.m. when the plane landed. You waited to get your suitcases back and then you were looking for your parents. You spotted them with a little paper with your name written on it and you could feel a smile growing on your face. You hugged each other and you could have sworn you saw a tear in your dad’s eye. “We missed you so much!” Your dad told you with a huge smile. “We did! Look at you! You look great Y/N!” “And tan.” Your dad added to your mother’s sentence and you chuckled. “California’s sun is something else.” You chuckled again. “and I missed you too.” You said and soon you were on your way to the house. You missed Columbus. San Francisco was amazing, but you missed being home.

               When you opened the front door, you were gathered by your dog Buck when you heard your big sister, Jo yelled your name. “Y/N! Oh my god it has been a while!” “Jo! I missed you so much!” You ran at her and hugged her. Jo and you were very close. Of course, you would argue sometimes over sister stuffs, but you could not stay mad at each other for too long. She graduated two years ago, and she was working in a fancy enterprise. “We have so much catch up to do!” “Yes, we do.” You laughed and hugged her again. It felt good to be back home.

               It was Friday which meant that the 4th of July party would start tomorrow so you would not be able to rest that much. Your mother explained to you what you had to do today, and you could not see how you could do all she said in one day but well you did not have a choice. Jo would help your mother by cleaning the house, preparing the rooms and all while you would go do the groceries with your dad. When you all knew what to do, your dad and you did not lose any more time and you were on your way to the grocery store since it was already 11:30 a.m. You got all the food you needed which meant meat, fruits, pasta, French fries, chips and drinks which were sodas and alcohol. You also got everything that was needed for the barbecue and some fireworks and with all of that done you stopped by to get something to eat. You ate outside of the Macdonald’s and you chatted a little bit. You missed having time with your dad. “I am glad you will spend summer with us. It was weird when your sister left but when you also did, the house felt empty. Having you girls for the 4th is very great.” Your dad told you as you took a sip of your drink. “Aw dad, even though we are far from you, nothing will ever change. It’s good to be back home.” You replied and gave him a smile. There was a moment of silence before your dad spoke again. “So, did you find any boy in California?” He asked you and you almost chocked on your French fries. You would not talk about those things with your parents, especially your dad. Not because you did not want to but because you were quite shy about it. You would more share those kinds of things with your sister. “Oh, um nope. I’m not interested actually.” You simply replied. It was half true though. Your ex-boyfriend was great well you thought he was but towards the end of your relationship, he became weird, distant and he eventually cheated on you. But even with what he did to you, seeing Lara with her boyfriend kind of made you want to feel loved again. But it was not your priorities. You quickly changed the subject to avoid any more embarrassment. “Oh god, it’s already 2 p.m. We better go.” “Oh, you’re right. You don’t want your mom to kill us.” You laughed and you were on your way back home.

               The rest of the day went by quicker than you expected. Jo and you spent the evening together, but she left to spend the night with her boyfriend Mike. He was a good guy, you liked him. You were exhausted so you decided to go to sleep.

               Your alarm went off at 9 a.m. You didn’t have to lose any time since the first guests would be there at 11:30a.m. You jumped in the shower and got dressed. Since it would be a hot day, you decided to wear a short and a cute tank top. You were doing your makeup when you heard the doorbell rang and your mom said, “she’s upstairs”. You knew it was Lara. “In the bathroom.” You let her know when she was upstairs, and she got in. “Hey! Dang! You look cute!” she told you, and you gave her a weird look. “I have done half my makeup.” You chuckled and kept doing your eyeliner. “Still!” “Well thank you. You’re not bad yourself.” “I know.” She replied and you both laughed.

               It was 11:30a.m and the first guests were arriving. Lara was with your dad outside, your mom gathering the guests and you were bringing the food outside. You were coming in the kitchen when you saw a group of people coming and you spotted Jo. You assumed it was her friends. Yes, she had a lot of friends. You took the plate of meat from the fridge and you were making your way to the garden to give it to your dad when a tall figure kept your attention. You had never seen him before. You knew all Jo’s friends but not him. He was thin, blond haired and his arms were covered by tattoos. You couldn’t stop starring at him. You were brought back to reality when you heard your dad call after you and that was when you realized you were standing there starring at him with the plate in your hands. Your dad calling you caused your sister and her friends, including him, to look at you and you panicked and went outside quickly. The rest of the guests arrived, and you said hi to everyone but your mind where somewhere else.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #mgk #mgk x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #mgk imagine

[remoonusarchive]

Questioning || Self-para

When: 6th January 1978 Where: The Courts, Ministry of Magic

Being separated was perhaps the worst thing for his anxiety. Worse than the panic over what was going on and the worry of what they might find out during their investigations. The fact that his friends were not by his side -- sharing a hundred words in one look and being a comforting presence -- was horrible. It didn’t help that his questioners clearly thought he was being cheeky, simply for pointing out that there were a hundred ways to knock a person out without leaving evidence behind because they were wizards. He kept up an air of calm as he logically laid out all the ways Peter could have been framed, all the reasons why whatever evidence they thought they had found could have been so easily planted in a school where they all lived on top of each other. He just about stopped himself from rolling his eyes when they brought up past misdemeanours. “None of that is illegal. We were teenagers having fun. You cannot keep us here if your best ‘proof’ is a few detentions for missing curfew or playing some harmless pranks.”

“Describe in your own words what you did the night of the Yule Ball,” the man leading the questioning said.

Remus sighed and shifted in the chair, twitching when his arm brushed one of the chains which was there to detain dangerous criminals. He had been left free much to his relief. “It was as you would expect for a school event like that. I spent time with my friends. There was food and drink and music. I talked to lots of people and then I left early.”

They kept pressing him for more details which he gave as best as he could, though he stumbled when they asked him with whom he had been when he left. When finally with red cheeks he stuttered out that it had been another male student he had taken to his dorm, he finally cast his eyes around at the other people in the trial room, half expecting to see his father staring back at him even though he knew the case had nothing to do with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (or at least it didn’t yet. If they found out he was a werewolf it might and they certainly would find out if the boys were still being held here in three weeks time.)

His questioner wasn’t very sympathetic to the fact that Remus had just come out to a room full of strangers. “Who, Mr Lupin?”

“A Ravenclaw. Walden Macnair.” He frowned. So sure had he been that Macnair was involved in the Death Eaters that it was only just now occurring to him that if something had happened whilst the two of them were together then Macnair had an alibi in Remus. Of course he was not naive enough to think there was only one person in Hogwarts who supported Voldemort’s regime but something felt strange about the whole thing.

“This Macnair could confirm you did not return to the Ball?”

“He could,” Remus said, slowly, but he wasn’t so sure that Macnair would. If the roles were reversed, Remus certainly wouldn’t speak up for him. He didn’t trust Macnair enough, didn’t believe them to be on the same side and he wouldn’t leave the safety of the closet just to provide him with an alibi. “We stayed in my dorm and I fell asleep after hearing some of my dormmates return, though I didn’t check who it was at the time. Walden was still there. He left sometime during the night. I woke up to find he had gone and that Peter’s bed was empty.”

“Are you denying knowledge of Mr Pettigrew’s activities?”

Remus glared. “I do not need to deny knowledge. Peter would never have any connection to this. All four of us hate the Dark Arts. I know he would not do this.”

“Do you want to know what I think, Mr Lupin?”

Not really.

“I think that you and your friends were recruited by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named over the summer. Let the records show I am submitting to evidence a statement from Mr Lupin’s father, Mr Lyall Lupin.”

Remus tensed. He wouldn’t. He almost definitely wouldn’t because it had always been one of his fears that Remus would be found out, but then he hadn’t been particularly pleased about Remus’ decision not to register as a werewolf the day he turned seventeen. He tuned into what the questioner was saying just in time to note that the statement was about his frequent travels during the summer as well as Lyall’s belief that he would be staying at Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays and had assumed he would be in Hogsmeade after the school closed, which everybody in the room knew to not be the case.

“I think that those little harmless pranks you mentioned earlier -- harmless, might I add, in the sense that they involve no less than twenty different students being admitted to the Hospital Wing across the span of six years -- have escalated into something darker. Tell me about your relationship with Argus Filch.”

Filch?

Remus shook his head. “He’s the Hogwarts caretaker. There is no relationship.”

“Mr Filch has been named in two-thirds of your detention slips, Mr Lupin, either as the person who caught you or as your target.”

Remus sighed. “I expect that’s the case for most students at Hogwarts. Considering he works in a school, it always astounded me how much Filch seems to hate children.”

“This is not the time for your opinions of the man’s job position, Mr Lupin.”

“You asked what my relationship with him was. My relationship with him is as a student who thinks he hates students.”

“On the fifth of November 1973, you received a detention for setting fireworks off in Mr Filch’s office.”

“It was in celebration of Bonfire Night.”

“Mr Filch was lucky not to be hurt.”

Remus shook his head. “No. It was never going to hurt him. They were Filibuster’s child-safe indoor fireworks. They are charmed to ensure they won’t hurt anybody or anything.”

His questioner narrowed his eyes and continued, slightly louder. “Three of your detentions were for breaking and entering into Mr Filch’s office.”

“That was in first year!” Remus defended himself. He had learnt not to be caught since.

“Perhaps, as you so feel that Mr Filch hates children, you also feel he has it out for you in particular. Is that why you attacked him?”

“I have never--” Remus gaped as he realised what was being implied. “No. That was not us. We have never tried to actually hurt him.”

“Mr Lupin--”

“Can I say my piece to defend myself, now?” he interrupted. “Or are you going to keep throwing conjecture at me?” When it was clear he was going to be allowed to speak, Remus sat up straight. “Yes, I spent a lot of time away from home this summer. It was my last summer of still being a student and I wanted to enjoy it. I was hanging out with my friends. I didn’t always let my parents know where I was going because I’m nineteen and an adult and they didn’t ask. Going to the Potters’ for Christmas was a last minute decision, so again I didn’t tell my parents. I’m legally an adult now and not accountable to them. I won’t be moving back in with them after school, so I considered the summer to be my last months living there.

“Yes, we have been idiots in the past but we have never done anything illegal.” Except not registering -- him as a werewolf, the other three as animagi. “And we would never deliberately try to hurt somebody. We know where to draw the line. We hate the Dark Arts. We would never join him.” It was perhaps not a good idea to say Voldemort out loud, though Remus usually would. People had become awfully twitchy about the name in recent years. “I have no idea how you imagine a group of some of Hogwarts most vocal against the Dark Arts would have been recruited but I know it is merely conjecture on your part because it never happened. As for Halloween, I do not know who attacked Filch but again I was at the Halloween party in the Forbidden Forest with my friends. It wasn’t us and unless you have any good reason to keep me here, I would really like to see my friends now.”

With that, he sat back in the chair and refused to answer any more questions, though it wasn’t long before they led him back to the holding cell he had been in before.

#remus on how to piss off a courtroom #he and james clearly didn't get the same person questioning them lmao but i was already too deep into it #it's different days maybe that witch was day off for the 6th #miplotdrop #*sp

[recoiiled]

                             “ ‘being hurt doesn’t teach anybody anything,’                                  said lily. ‘it doesn’t help. it just feels bad.’  “

☾  ↪  bob morley, cis male, 35, he/his.  ／  ❛  have you heard from THEODORE DANE ROBINSON lately ？ yeah, the THIRTY FIVE year old HISTORY PROFESSOR. pretty sure they’ve been here EIGHTEEN/TWO YEARS, and from what i’ve heard, THEO can be kind of RESTLESS  &  OVERSTRUNG, but i caught them on a good day once, and they were pretty AFFABLE  &  PERSEVERING. i’m probably overthinking it, but given all the crazy shit around here, i hope they’re okay. maybe they’re watching their favorite scary movie, i heard it’s THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS.

WARNINGS:   discussions of murder, sibling death, parental death, ghost mention. second section mentions stabbing and open spaces, as well as snakes and scorpions.  ADDITIONAL MATERIALS:   theo’s stats page, playlist, & pinterest board   ADDITIONAL NOTES:   this is pretty much just theo’s app!!! and by pretty much i mean it is his app, like, exactly. if anything doesn’t make sense it is On Me because i have proofread these like TWICE (twice!!!) and still feel like i done fucked up big somewhere in there. anyway i can’t wait to get to plotting with all of y’all!!!!!   (  zoe, 21, she/her, and cst.  )

001. TELL  US  A  HEADCANON  OF  HOW  YOUR  MUSE  FEELS  ABOUT  THE  HOLLOW  MAN'S  ALLEGED  RETURN  ?

the robinson family was a family with a long history, stretching back in holloway long before the murders marked them forever. that long history was told with laughter and warm interjections and embellishments at every family gathering  ( family gatherings included: birthdays, weddings, holidays, and the every-other-week sunday dinners. )  for as long as theo could remember. this cousin tripped on her way down the isle when the whole town had been invited to the wedding, even the mayor, and made front page news. that great-aunt traveled two towns over to compete in a pie-making contest and won, but earned so much scorn from the win that no robinson can ever visit that town again.  it went on   ---   theo was always meant to love history. he was raised on his family’s history, fed a steady diet of passed-down stories from anyone who had something to say. and he was raised on the town’s history, because you couldn’t live in holloway and not steep yourself in the myths of it. not steep yourself in the stories that surrounded every house, every family just as ingrained in the streets as your own; he knew things that were certainly tall tales, like all the myths that came with being in washington, and he knew the true facts of their town’s founding that each student learned when they were in the second grade. ( he knew every bigfoot sighting and alien tale from surrounding towns, could weave tall tales of his own to any younger robinson who would listen. ) there were family secrets, he was sure. there were a lot of robinson’s, and robinson-adjacent people, who flitted in and out of theo’s life growing up. he was a smart kid   ---   he knew how to read a silence that fell over a room as soon as a kid walked in. he knew how to tell when a scrapbook was missing pages. but there were other things on his mind and he knew that if there were things he needed to know, someone would tell him. family was important to theo, that sense of community he found he could find almost anywhere in holloway.  adults kept things secrets from kids, but he didn’t think it was malicious; it was just a sign of being human. he was a pretty chill kid and everyone around him knew it; the sort of child who was always underfoot, but quiet about it, who tucked a toy or a comic book or a paperback with him and sat with the adults. theo just liked being where the action was, even if sometimes the action was subdued because of his presence. he was a frequent receiver of high-fives and hair-ruffles, frequent relayer of information to the other kids of the robinson clan. no one really thought of him as nosy, though certainly someone could have looked at him and seen that; they thought he was a kid who knew that there would always be a place for him. 

growing up, theo had five siblings   ---   their own little robinson clan plenty big, as if holloway wasn’t already full of people they were related to.  mom’s side was big and dad’s side was big; both parents looked at the other when they were newlyweds and said, we’re not going to have that many kids. both remembered crowded childhoods and laughed at people their age, determined to have a big family. and then a few years after the first they said, well, one more. and once they opened the floodgates there, it just kept happening, and before they knew it they had a family the size of the brady bunch.  theo himself was somewhere in the middle; the oldest boy, but not the outright oldest. his sister emma was the leader of all their fun, with his second oldest sister her second in command, ready to carry out her orders.  he was there to reign in anything too outrageous, which felt an odd place for the third sibling to be in the pecking order; the most responsible, in a way, when he was three years younger than emma. but it worked. everything about the six robinson kids worked.  theo’s childhood was both snail-paced and lightning fast. there were moments that buzzed lazily by, summer breaks spent in the drowsy almost-heat of the town, daring other kids to sleep out in the stars. there were months that sped by theo so fast he could barely recall what his fourth grade teacher looked like. theo was un-bothered by time; he was always running an hour late or an hour early, never could quite tell if it was tuesday or friday. he was a go-with-the-flow kinda kid, and it felt like he would never quite shake that mentality off.  ( his responsibility extended to contributing to plans, not to getting places on time or doing homework by the due date. let’s be realistic. )  they were all a little laidback, knew their way around each other   ---   breakfast in the mornings before school was a well-oiled routine, someone manning the toaster, someone brewing the coffee, someone scrambling eggs, and on and on. dinner was also fun, their parents joining in on the chaos in the kitchen, everyone doing their part even if it had nothing to do with what was happening on the stove. it was great, to be a robinson. 

1976 dawned and it felt like it would be a great year.  theo remembered the robinson’s family new years party, everyone waving sparklers around and shooting off fireworks. he was a few years out from even being able to steal a glass of champagne, but everything was golden tinged anyway; like nothing could go wrong that night, like it was a good omen for the year to come.  spoiler alert: it was fucking not a great year.  not for theo. not for holloway. certainly not for emma. if he could scrub the awful, whole three-hundred-and-sixty-five of it from his memory, he would. if he could have a do over, he would take it.  theo was on time for something for the first time in his life, and it was emma’s funeral. he imagined her ruffling his hair for it, giving him a trademark sardonic look. what, I’m worth the punctuality cousin jess’ wedding wasn’t? everything felt awful   ---   he knew the whole town was in mourning, but he felt the gaping hole emma left in the robinson family like a physical wound. he wondered, and hated himself for wondering, how anyone else could know what they were going through.  

life went on for theo, but only because life had to go on; because he knew emma  ( of course he knew emma, the robinsons where tight-knit as they came and he knew his sister like the back of his hand. better than that. )  and he knew she wouldn’t want the family to wallow in her loss forever. in fact, he knew she’d be pissed if he wallowed; could practically picture her whacking him over the back of the head for it, eyes wide as she demanded, what the hell are you doing, theodore?  theo was fifteen when emma died and it felt like he had to go back to normal as soon as possible. he’d been the responsible one of the robinson children; emma had been their ringleader, but he’d been their glue, and he knew if she was gone he could never, ever afford to fall apart. he could leave and change and do what he pleased, but he had to be fine, he had to be okay.  he also knew that if he showed any cracks in his surface outside of the family, everyone would be overly kind to him, soft with pity for him. he wasn’t the only person in town related to one of the hollow man’s victims   ---   but theo couldn’t shake the feeling that if he let himself be seen as one of the dead girl’s brothers for a moment too long, he would never be seen as anything else.  ( the truth was: part of him almost didn’t see anything wrong with that. he loved emma, he missed emma, would it really be so bad to have an identity tied to her? but he couldn’t. he couldn’t. )  he’d always been a softer kid; he had male cousins, and younger brothers, and his dad was always around to play catch if theo asked, but he had two older sisters and a mom who meant business and that meant he’d never really been macho, a guy’s guy. he liked telling stories and reading stories. he knew a shit ton about bog bodies and the riches of king tut’s tomb, had a favorite ancient civilization, a favorite revolution   ---   the whole nerdy nine yards. but after emma  ( after everything )  he joined cross country and the baseball team. he dated a few girls at his friends’ suggestions, went to parties, cracked jokes with ease.  he figured if he became someone entirely different, on purpose, no one would think to question all the ways he wasn’t the same. 

002.  WHAT  IS  YOUR  MUSE'S  GREATEST  FEAR  ?

that few years re-invention was for a good cause; theo wore it like armor. the whole of halloway wanted to move on from the murders, and no one was exactly waiting around him, looking for a stray look from poor theo robinson as a cue to ask how he was doing.  the robinsons were close   ---   they’d always been close. emma’s murder didn’t take that away, but it did take something from it. they were a tightly wound machine that had to learn how to operate without a vital part. if theo thought too hard about it all his heart would break; he knew some families were rife with discord because their personalities were never made to match up, but the robinsons were, in a lot of ways, so similar. they all put up a brave face so the rest of the family wouldn’t worry too much about them. they would never shatter for missing her, but they’d never really be able to move on. it was a double-edged sword, the price they had to pay. his brave face was becoming mr. congeniality. he’d always been open and friendly, but there was something sweeter about it before. soft. he was a boy who seemed like he could break so easily, who no one wanted to hurt. ( he was hurt anyway. his sister died. she was murdered, brutally. imagine thinking he’d stay the same after that? ) after the murders, there was an edge underneath his sunny smiles; he’d never been the popular guy before. but all of a sudden he was untouchable. people parted ways for him in the halls and seemed startled when he gave them a friendly nod, and asked about the volleyball team, or the student council, or their younger brother. no one expected someone with a steel-forged spine to hand you fresh-baked banana bread for your sick grandma.  people had always liked theo; but after everything, they really liked theo.  the thing was: theo wanted to study history. he’d always wanted to study history. he wanted to be an archaeologist, he thought, since he figured that was the best route if he wanted to be elbow deep in the past. he’d come to this conclusion when he was in middle school and even after everything, theo was sticking to his guns. he used to think that he loved holloway too much to leave, though. that he’d find a way to finesse their degree programs to work for what he wanted.  that he’d never be able to find somewhere that filled him with the same warm feeling being so near his family did   ---   close family and distant family and blood-related and not-so-blood-related all as close as could be. holloway was comforting, once upon a time. now he knew that he had to leave.  it wrenched something from his parents when he told them he’d applied and been accepted to school some clean across the country. somewhere cold and old and as far as he could get from the hallows. but he’d known when he was fifteen that emma would have smacked him for wallowing, and at eighteen he knew she would have punched him for staying.  he imagined her saying, are you staying for me? you’ll kill yourself for a ghost, theo. his sister spoke to him a lot, in his head. but that’s what was so great about leaving for college. no one at school expected the boy with an iron forged heart to be haunted. 

people in holloway were so dazed by the news of him leaving that the fact that he was leaving for an ivy league kind of blew right over their heads. and theo wanted it that way. he got the sense that if people forgot all about the soft kid he used to be, before emma  ( in his head, he always thought of it as b.e.; he’d never been religious, but he figured he could adopt the catholic wording to cut his life in half ), they could forget him altogether if he left abruptly enough. in a way, he was right. the ivy league-ness of his choice made the rounds, made the gossip, and then it passed. holidays for the robinsons used to be sprawling affairs, but theo made sure to only come back for his immediate family. he stayed sequestered with his siblings and his parents and boarded a plane back to campus as soon as the festivities waned.  pretty soon, he thought, I’ll be a ghost too. then holloway could be full of them.  cornell university was the culture shock to end all culture shocks   ---   and it was everything theo hoped it would be. the finger lakes, on paper, didn’t seem that different from the region around the hallows. and holloway had its college, too. but he’d thought ithaca was about as different from home as he could get and still find his feet on solid ground. the buildings were all red-bricked and ancient feeling, the air crisp even in the summer heat of move-in day. the hills and the gorges and the rolling trees; it was a place of clean beauty. unbloody, untouched. his classmates came from all over, just bright and eager to get on with their lives as he was. they were all fascinated with his origin story, when they got to see glimpses of it; he’d agonized, a little, over telling the truth. some just knew he came from ‘ that town with all those murders. ’ for others, wasn’t as interesting as his major or his plans for his degree, what he’d gotten on that last exam.  others still seemed curious, though; to get to know him, really get to know him; and this was his time to move on. this was why he’d moved out so far. but. he couldn’t just lie about emma.  why not? the emma that lived in his head asked. in his head, she’d always be seventeen and beautiful. it hurt to think he was older now than she’d ever get to be. I wouldn’t mind if you lied. why would you move all this way to feel just as tied down by the past? but in the end he couldn’t lie. he couldn’t. 

so they were all fascinated with his origin story, but once they heard it and understood, a little guiltily, that theo was caught in the midst of his hometown’s tragedy  ...  they backed off with the questions. and pretty soon it faded into the background of things people knew about him; he went to parties thrown by cornell’s frats and ithaca college’s music students. he went apple picking and to hockey games. and he studied his ass off, pulled more all nighters than he’d ever thought healthy, or possible. the archaeology program was amazing. worth acquainting a new crop of people to the story of the hollows.  theo was practically a chameleon at this point. he wasn’t the soft, sweet kid he’d been b.e. but he wasn’t the surprise people always saw him as in high school, all sun-tempered-steel, either. he still had more steel in him than softness. but he wasn’t making the same effort, to ask about people’s family, or sports team, or whatever. he was just another guy   ---   he had friends in other majors, but he mostly stuck around the other archaeology students, or history majors, people who crept to the same corners of the school’s library. he was nice to the people in his building, and his friend’s significant others, but he was kind of over doing the most to seem perfectly healed.  he was a student, and that’s what he would focus on, and so he did. theo graduated with a few digs under his belt and a glowing recommendation that had him headed to the united kingdom for two years for a master’s program, exploring the secrets of old castles and glens.  it wrenched something a little more from his parents when he broke that news, but by then, theo thought, they’d known to see it coming. they loved him enough to let him go.  

here were the things that kept theo robinson up at night, despite declarations that he was fine  ( and he was, mostly ):  

he couldn’t stand in an open space with his back to it. there was something hollow  ( ha ha, pun unintended )  in all that empty space. there was something awful in the unknown. something fragile in the unprotected skin of your back. 

he had a bit of a problem walking first through doors, too, which was a problem. he’d had plenty of female co-workers who hated having the door held open for them. and he respected that. but having someone at his back like that made the hair at the back of his neck stand up, gave him a cold shiver it took longer than he’d like to admit to shake off. 

he encountered this fucked up snake at one of his dig sites  ---   definitely venomous, though he wasn’t going near enough to it to find out. snakes are a no-go for him. 

it’s probably a problem that he can’t stop talking to his murdered older sister’s ghost. emma’s voice lives in the back of his head and he can’t get her out of there; most days he thinks he doesn’t want to get her out of there. he tells himself he’s not so crazy that he talks to her out loud, so is it really a problem? 

he won’t ever tell anyone he hears her all the time. he can’t handle the gut-punch the pitying, wary look would cause.

scorpions are also a no-go, also because a shitty encounter on a dig.

it’s been said, but it bears reiterating: he cannot stand the feeling of emptiness behind him. 

he’s had recurring nightmares for years now where he’s fighting a lion gladiator-style in an old roman colosseum; he pulls his sword on the bloody thing and at the last moment the lion stands on its hind legs and pushes him, and even though they’d been in a colosseum, theo falls into nothing and wakes up in a cold sweat. every single time. 

he wonders if he wasn’t stabbed in a past life; the blade dug snug in the small of his back and wrenched out before he could do anything.

theo still came home for all the important holidays; tried to make it home for as many birthdays as he could, always bearing foreign gifts and exciting stories. he moved away from scotland and headed to egypt. then he moved from egypt to morocco, spent another chunk of time where he hung out with other people just as obsessed with history and archaeology as he was; there, he decided to keep his own history under wraps. no one needed to know about the hollow.  he fell in love; he fell out of love. he couldn’t recall a second where he didn’t have sand in his hair, under his nails, and a broad grin swept across his face. those years confirmed for theo: this was where he was meant to be.  the voice of emma in his head was quiet, happy for him. came out mostly to chide him to eat healthier, sleep better, call home more.  it was hard to get technology out to the actual dig sites; almost no one had cell-phones, they weren’t cartoonish wall-street brokers. but luckily, theo was living on the edge of a little city, full to bursting with life, and people, and landlines.  ( everyone spoke french, which theo had little practice in. one of his co-workers was french canadian and made fun of him endlessly for any and all attempts. )  life at this particular site was great; then one day his father called him in a panic at four in the morning and said his mother was having a health episode   ---   those had been his words.  theo flew home in a rush, crowded into the hospital room with a dozen other robinsons for as long as the medical center staff would allow.  when she died, he stayed in the thick of his family for the first time in years. but theo was more grown up than he had been at eighteen when he left and thought he was leaving for good. he was ready to be there for his siblings while his father couldn’t be. theo and his sister oversaw funeral arrangements. they were the ones who tried to get their family’s lives back on track. theo said, I’m not going to stay too long, just until everyone is back on their feet. he said, I really do need to get back to the site. he said, I’ll stay until christmas but then I have to go.  some of his siblings were already grown up themselves and were called back into the thick their lives before their grieving period was really over   ---   but they went back all the same. luckily they were all still in the hallow; it was nice to be together again, theo could admit. he’d missed it, even if now it wasn’t the same. and then his father had an unexpected heart attack and theo was the last adult robinson in his immediate family with nothing else to do, and looking after his two youngest siblings fell to him. 

his dad got better, by a certain degree of better, but theo felt awful anytime he thought of leaving holloway again. he put his master’s degree to good use and got a teaching job at the local college, made sure to start spending time with his living siblings. with his living parent. he couldn’t quite figure out what the emma in his head thought about the choice; some days he imagined her telling him, theo, you were so happy in life you made for yourself. others, she said, remember how good home felt, when it was good?  then shelly meyers died, and he wished he’d figured out which version of emma to listen to. he thought, I can’t fucking do this again.  on the one hand he was glad to be around; he couldn’t imagine hearing news of the new murder while he was halfway around the world and had no way of keeping tabs on his family. he couldn’t even picture the spike of fear that would drive into his chest. but his family was still here. and he was still here. and no amount of family dinners, of walking everyone to their car and making sure they had a knife or pepper spray on them, would shake his fear.  he already had one ghost in his head, and it felt like there were dozens of others just waiting to join her. 

003.  TELL  US  A  LITTLE  MORE  ABOUT  YOUR  CHARACTER.  WHAT  ARE  THEIR  QUIRKS  ?  PERSONALITY  TRAITS  ?  FATAL  FLAWS  ?

so theo probably, like, definitely has a multilayered reputation around town. he was born and raised in holloway and I definitely feel like the robinsons are the sort of family that like. everyone definitely isn’t related to, like biologically, but everyone is a family friend of. there’s a lot of them, and they’re mostly warm and inviting and like being well known and well liked around town. theo himself was a very likable kid! when he was a kid!

and the elephant in the room is that theo’s oldest sister was one of the twelve victims of the original hollow murders. so that definitely tinged the way people saw him for a bit. 

he decided that he Have To move on when it seemed like that’s what the town wanted to do. did a full one eighty and was very much a Likable Cool Guy until he left for college and full on left. I doubt anyone but his family saw him in the years between him a.) graduating from high school and b.) coming back for his mom

he’s been back in town for two years! fun!! just in time to get mcmurdered!!!

his primary mode of transportation is a motorcycle which he maintains mostly on his own. it makes him seem a lot cooler than he is. he read a ton of comic books as a kid and definitely still does. he’s an x-men fan all the way. some of his students at the college definitely refer to him as the hot history professor but he is 100% still a nerd. 

he got a b.s. in archaeology from cornell and his master’s in history from some scottish university I’ll figure out when it’s not 3:51am and I don’t have a cold. 

( edit from when it’s not 3:51am but i still have a cold: i’ll still figure that out later aksjdhgf )

he has a rather gnarly scar on his left thumb and another hefty one along the back of his right calf. his job was pretty scrape-happy, so he’s got a bunch of other, smaller scars, but no other big ones. 

theo has a black (former stray) kitten named oscar who he dotes on, like, really really dotes on. 

hmmm. fatal flaw would probably be that he has developed Very Good escapist tendencies. he wouldn’t say that but he does. he’s a runner   ---   super ironic for someone who has a fear of leaving things at his back. 

theo owns an ungodly amount of denim and leather jackets. truly, his closet is packed. when he was in high school he had a letterman jacket, too, with patches for baseball and cross country both. it’s probably still in his dad’s house somewhere; all the kids’ stuff is neatly stored in the attic, and theo knows he could hunt that jacket down if he really wanted to add it back to the collection.

he’s not super open about it because he is a Man of Science but he fully believes in bigfoot. and aliens. though he’ll fight anyone who says bullshit like, the aliens built the pyramids. theo has to draw the line somewhere. 

of all the places he’s lived  ( holloway, ithaca, scotland, egypt, morocco, plenty of other sites for smaller amounts of time )  the hollow is definitely not his favorite. surprise, surprise, but it bears repeating. 

ooc I know he’s probably not going to make it out of this alive, but theo’s plan for when the murders all blow over is to apply to cornell’s grad program and move back to ithaca for a bit to wipe the hollow off of him. then probably fuck off to some more dig sites before eventually settling at a college not in holloway to teach again, because I think he does enjoy being a professor. he just hates this town

#( ⊱ ━━ 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒚┊intro. ) #hollowfm.intro