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#ok now im settled for real into a new style

supersources · 7 months

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#060: POPSICLE DRIPPINGS. an original and free psd coloring. credit not necessary but appreciated. if you’d like to support me, you can donate through payhip, or you can buy me a coffee. : 𝙳𝙰 / 𝙿𝙷.

#psds #psd #new psd #free psd #free psds #rp psd #rp coloring #icon psd #new psds #roleplay psd #roleplay resources #rph #icon psds #ps coloring #roleplay coloring #mine: psds.#mine #*#ok now im settled for real into a new style

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trash-wombat · 3 years

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modern music isn’t trash, i guess

Summary: You and Steve talk about stuff and listen to music

Warnings: none

A/N: Platonic pairing, think older brother/ father figure. It’s short, im still trying to figure out my writing style. Don’t really listen to Harry Styles but I enjoyed Fine Line and I thought the cover looked neat :)

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You always loved when it rained; it was the perfect atmosphere for listening to music and doing absolutely nothing else. You flipped through your small collection of vinyl records, and chose your current favorite. Picking up a blanket and your sketchbook, you padded out of your room and down the hallway. It was quiet enough to hear your own footsteps - a welcome quiet, compared to the chaos of being an Avenger.

You rounded a corner and approached your favorite place in the entire building. The third floor common room was unofficially claimed by Bucky and Steve, but they never minded you hanging out there. It was spacious but cozy, with a large bookshelf, a vintage sofa set, and most importantly - an authentic 1940s record player. You knelt in front of it, and carefully put the disc into place. You adjusted the settings to your liking, then settled onto the carpet in front of the coffee table and cocooned yourself into your blanket. The light patter of rain and familiar music formed a comforting lullaby, and you soon found yourself nodding off to sleep.

That is, until you heard footsteps.

“Hey, kiddo. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Steve said, lowering his voice.

“It’s ok,” you yawned, ”I wasn’t even asleep”. Steve shot an amused glance at you before grabbing a worn looking book and sitting in an armchair.

“Whatcha listening to?” he asked.

“Nothing, I can turn it off if it’s annoying”, you said, half getting up. Your friends used to complain about your music taste being obnoxious - you doubted a hundred year old man would be interested.

“No, don’t worry about it. I’m curious what the kids are listening to these days.” He pulled out a pair of reading glasses you were pretty sure he didn’t need, and polished them on his shirt. “What’s this noise called anyways?” he said with mock distaste.

You told him the name of the artist.

“Ah, never heard of them...” he replied, before shifting his focus back on his book.

Unable to fall back to sleep, you opened your sketchbook and started a little doodle for each song that played. Every now and then Steve would ask about an instrument he didn’t recognize, or the meaning of a lyric. Each time, your answers grew longer and more detailed; eventually you were providing an unprompted commentary on each track, excited to share the knowledge you’d deemed useless before.

When the entire album had played through, Steve took one of his from the bookshelf.

“You ever heard of Glen Miller?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Nope. What kinda music does he play?”

“I can’t describe it really. It was real popular during the war...” he paused for a moment, like he was concentrating on something. “I don’t know. Just listen to it, you’ll get it.”

No wonder it was popular. Hearing the first few notes made you want to take your worries of the shelf and dance them all away. You were tired though, so you just tapped your foot instead.

As the bright swing music played, Steve shared his own commentary - a memory, a favorite phrase, a slang term that had long since gone out of use. You spent the rest of the afternoon trading old stories and lighthearted jokes, and by the time you were called for dinner you had both gained a new respect for each other’s music tastes.

“So you do like my music then!” you said in exaggerated surprise as you folded your blanket into a lopsided rectangle.

“I said it was interesting, that’s not the same thing,” he responded jokingly.

“You totally liked it. We’re listening to Adele next.”

“Alright fine, if you insist,” he said, raising his hands in defeat. “Let's go before the food gets cold, eh?”

“Sure thing,” you replied, following him out of the room and towards a delicious smelling meal.

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That’s it, I would edit it more but it’s been in my drafts for like two weeks, I just wanted to finish something. I’ll probably do more at some point. Hope you enjoyed :)

#avengers x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #i never know what to tag these lol #steve rogers x platonic!reader

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

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Little Border Town Pt. II

Summary: Harry starts to find himself more and more drawn to the bookshop owner. She’s maybe not as annoying as he first thought. And maybe Harry isn’t the worst like she thought either. A little notebook, drinks, shoes, and a boat begin to show each other that.

AKA: Harry and Y/N are neighbors that fight all the time, the whole town wants to know when they’ll just fuck.

ello loves, part 2 is finally here pls let me know what you think!! barely proofread sorry... also i think theres gonna be quite a few parts to this because i keep not getting all i want to say said in each part. and im trying to keep the chunks relatively short. — also I made one direction lowkey exist bahaha

Word Count: 9.2k | Warnings: flirty fighting/banter, slowburn

Part 1

The next day Harry found himself walking into the bookshop next door without really thinking about it. He hadn’t seen Y/N again for his early morning run and he had his list for her of the Paul Simon albums he already had. They hadn’t had their windows or shades open last night either so it was the first night he didn’t give her a salute and she didn’t flip him off. The jostle in routine seemed a little weird to him so as he walked through the shop's door and the bell sounded, he thought the smile on his face was because he was well rested and unbothered by anything.

Y/N had slept in this morning. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the beginning of Fall always put her in a cozy sleepy mood. She wanted to go to a pumpkin patch and watch a fire burn out in a fireplace. She wanted to listen to her halloween playlist and plan out an intricate costume with her friends. All of this was a wistful dream though. She had quickly learned that the little border town didn’t celebrate Halloween how they did in the States or any major cities. It was okay, at the end of the day, even if she was a little bummed about it. This was her new life and she would have to adapt to the new customs.

After she walked downstairs and unlocked the door, she went back over to her front counter. Yesterday, right when Harry had come in, she had found a booklet of Marie’s. It was leafed over to the point that all the pages were crinkled and dirtied from hand debris. Each page was filled with her loopy handwriting, all of it in French. She must have only liked blue pens because even if the type changed over different pages, the color was always blue. Each page was headed with a name, a customer’s name Y/N was starting to realize as she leafed through the pages. She sat back on the wooden stool she had gotten for behind the counter and propped the book in her hand. After the name of the customer there were extensive details on them. Not their purchases specifically, but their preferences, their personality, and just tidbits about any quirks they had or interesting things Marie had decided were of note.

She found many names that were now familiar to her after her few months of living in the little border town. There really weren't that many people to get to know and the tourists were starting to die down now that the school year was getting back in. After a few minutes of pouring over Monsieur Friedfrickson’s page, who lives across the street from her and runs the flower and gardening supplies shop, she flips to an even more familiar name’s page.

“Harry Styles.” The page had the name written out in strong tall letters. Marie had used a blue inky pen for his page, not a ballpoint. “Likes Music. Poetry. Love stories. Romance with a happy ending, but also likes the practical love too.” The interests are laid out plain and she purses her lips at the idea that Harry is interested in romance novels. She wondered what type of poetry he liked since Marie didn’t seem to think that had to be elaborated on. “He’s a special one,” it reads and Y/N scoffs to herself, really Marie? She reads on, “His heart is in the right place, but he’s got a mouth on him. Quick-witted and charming, but kind-hearted and sincere.” She pauses, and flicks the page back and forth, checking that it still reads Harry’s name when she gets back to it. Was she really the only one who found Harry vapid and annoying? Sure she had softened a little towards him since she had arrived, but they were by no means friends. “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually-” it reads and she mutters to herself, “Ok, now we’re getting somewhere.” “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually scared of his own shadow.” “This can’t be real!” She once again scoffs at the book and looks up to the ceiling like Marie is going to talk back to her from beyond. “His exterior persona is very strong, both physically and in his personality, but it seems like he’s just waiting for that right person that he can really be vulnerable with and let them into what he’s really thinking. He’s looking for his Angie.” Now she’s just confused. Who the fuck is Angie? She almost doesn’t finish reading the page because honestly it’s just making her mad, but there’s only a few more lines. “Lots of tattoos, why so many tattoos? Thinks he’s funnier than he is. Flamboyant Harry is best.” And beside that last sentence is a star. She tries to hold in her laughter. At least it wasn’t a complete page of praise for Harry.

Thinking back to her knowledge of Harry, she realizes that Marie must have known him for about three years. Maybe more if he had come to visit before moving there officially. She agreed with Marie that Harry had a lot of tattoos and that he thinks he’s funnier than he truly is, but she was yet to see flamboyant Harry. She knew he painted his nails and wore rings, as well as interesting clothes, but she wouldn’t say he was particularly flamboyant for any of that. That comment definitely piqued her interest. When would Marie have seen Harry where he was being flamboyant?

Her eyes scan over the page once more and realize that this book is only for the most current year. Marie re-did the customers' outlines every year. So this was this past year before Marie died. She wondered where the other books might be and if Harry’s outline had changed over time and also if her name was in the one from when she had visited. That would be interesting to read. It’s strange to read a dead person’s private musings. To her knowledge, no one else alive knew the contents of these pages and these pages seemed especially personal since they spoke of people’s lives and who they were at their core. Maybe that’s why she didn’t hear the chime of the door this morning when the first customer arrived.

Her eyes don’t shoot up from the page until two ringed hands enter her eye line on the counter. The tanned skin, with the gold and silver dazzling rings on each finger and the cross tattoo all register in her mind as her eyes go wide. She snaps the book shut when her eyes meet Harry’s almost ivy green eyes - they’re darker in the foggy fall light streaming through the window today. She hadn’t even turned on the lights yet in the store, the natural light being enough for her this morning. The book is clutched in her hands as Harry’s smile widens to a grin of amusement.

“What have you got there?”

There’s no cover on the book so he can’t make anything out about it. He assumes it’s some novel she’s embarrassed of and has chosen to slip the cover off of to keep anonymity of it. This assumption is why his tone is so teasing and why she grimaces at him in response. Her cheeks have also tinted themselves, she’s flustered that the man she had just been conversing about with the book was now in the store.

“None of your business.”

“I guess not.” He replies easily when she responds curtly and places the book out of sight somewhere under the countertop.

“Why are you here again?” She’s avoiding his eye contact now, feeling like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been even though it was perfectly within her right to read something that now belonged to her.

Harry’s smile falters with her followed curt reply. Annoyance settling in, Harry straightens up and removes his hands from the counter. The familiar feeling doesn’t exactly feel nice, but familiarity is better than discomfort. “You wanted a list of my Paul Simon records? So you could order me one I didn’t already have?”

She looks at him curiously as the conversation comes back to her from yesterday morning and she nods. That conversation was real. “Oh yeah, I said that.” She replies, still not looking at him. “Okay,” she says when he doesn’t move or do anything. Her eyes widen, silently asking him to get on with it.

His hands shove into his pockets, searching around for a list he apparently had made. They come out empty. He pats over his jacket pockets and feels nothing but his phone and wallet, no list. “Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath. She scratches at her eyebrow and sits back on her stool, seeming like she might be waiting awhile. After a few more minutes and no produced list, she sighs. “Do you just want to go next door and grab it since you obviously forgot it?”

“I didn’t forget it…” His voice is low and he shoots a glare at her, the annoyance that had come back had now doubled.

“You did, but it’s okay if you can’t admit that-”

“It must have fallen out of my pocket!” He insists.

She rolls her eyes and stands up. Walking to the front door, she looks on the ground and then a little ways outside. “I don’t see it, just go back and get it. You probably left it in your boudoir, it’s fine.” Her tone is a little less condescending now and more understanding. She forgets stuff all the time and she really wasn’t trying to be rude when he first came in. He had just startled her is all.

He turns around to face her. Her body is now completely out in the open area of the front of the store. His head tilts and one of his loose curls flops over his forehead while he takes in her appearance. “Why do you do that?”

She wets her lips and steps closer to him, more on her way back to the counter than anything. “Do what?” She’s oblivious to what he’s taken note of.

“When you have a conversation in English you’ll swap in some words that are French. They’re easy words to figure out and you don’t do it a lot, but you’ve done it enough times for me to notice.”

“Oh...I don’t know. I prefer French to English. It’s so much sexier.” She walks closer to him and utters her next sentence as she brushes past his shoulder. His gaze follows her every movement. “Would you prefer a girl to whisper in your ear, “let’s go back to my bedroom” or “let’s go back to my boudoir.”?” Her French accent hangs in the air with the word and compared to the hard American accent she had employed for ‘bedroom’, ‘boudoir’ sounds far more dirty this time than before.

A shiver rolls down Harry’s spine, but he doesn’t let it show. She shrugs her shoulders, “I think the answer is clear.” He clears his throat in response and a smile grows on her face. “Don’t you agree, monsieur?” She leans her head into her hand now that she’s behind the counter and looks up at him sweetly. He knows she’s teasing him now, her smile more of a sultry smirk.

“Piccola diavola,” his Italian rolls off his tongue and she squints at his words. She knows “devil” but the first word troubles her - it just means little. Her Italian really wasn’t strong and it hadn’t improved that much since she’d been in the little border town. But she also wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what he had said. Harry chuckles at her confusion and relaxes now that he feels the playing field has leveled once again.

“So your list… Do you want to go grab it? Or if you can just list it off the top of your head? As enthralling as your conversation skills are, I actually don’t have all day.” She trails off again, her questions lilting from her mouth after regaining some composure.

“I wasn’t the one teasing about taking someone up to their bedroom,” he huffs. Her face colors with crimson. While she had been teasing him, she didn’t want to be called out for it.

“Wasn’t teasing…”

“So it was a serious offer?” He inquires with a lop-sided grin, changing the meaning behind her words in one fellow swoop.

“That’s not what I was saying! Shut up and give me your list.” Now her blush was all over her face and neck, and she was totally and completely flustered by Harry. She glanced down at her hands that were fiddling with a pen and paper, ready to write his words down.

“I can either shut up or tell you my list. But it’s sadly one or the other, love.”

She groans and takes her free hand to run it over her face. “Just tell me what you already have, Harry. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles and spreads out his hands in front of them both. He crosses back to the counter and leans on it once more. They are in close proximity once again, only the counter between them now and she can feel his hot breath fan over her softly. Smells of wintergreen gum, her favorite.

She glances up at him and their eyes hook together for a moment before she tears hers away to look back at the paper. He rattles off a good amount of Paul Simon’s albums and she nods approvingly as she scribbles the names down. She would have to look through his discography to find the ones Harry didn’t have and she probably could’ve made Harry do that and then give her that list, but she didn’t. It was too late now to do that as well, so she’d just have to live with her decision.

When he finishes, she glances at him once again. His eyes are very large. A detail that isn’t really important about him is seared in her mind. They’re big and they’re staring right at her. His pupils are almost as big as his irises, it was interesting. Her eyes shift under his gaze after a beat and she straightens up again. While they went over his list, she had indulged in the close proximity, the mingling of warm breath and brushed hands as she scribbled and he pondered. She nods a farewell, “I’ll let you know when I order next, but I won’t say what album you’ll get. It will be a surprise.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” his smile snaps back to his face and he scratches absentmindedly at his side. He hesitates before exiting the store. “I have a question.”

“Don’t need my permission.”

He emits a half-laugh, half-scoff from his parted lips. “Wasn’t asking for it...How come you never go out?”

She stares at him curiously, her head tilting to the right. “How would you know I don’t get out?” She challenges him.

“There’s only one pub in this little town and I’m your next door neighbor. I know.” He’s insistent on being right.

She scoffs, but only in an attempt to cover up her embarrassment. Her skin had finally cooled from all the excitement that had happened earlier and she wasn’t in the mood to grow red once again. Today was the first day she had ever felt flustered by Harry. It was annoying, it made her feel out of control. She liked to go out well enough, maybe more than the average person. But she’d only been in the little border town for a few months and going out hadn’t been on the top of her list of things to do. Sure, it would be nice to go get a drink out in the town, but she didn’t really have anyone to go with. Meeting people wasn’t hard in the town, but there weren't many people who were her age and she hadn’t particularly clicked with anyone where she would want to go out on the town with them. It was embarrassing to face the fact that she wasn’t flourishing as much as she had hoped. She was happy, but being confronted with the truth that she hadn’t gone out yet dampened her belief in her success in the little border town.

“I - It’s not at the top of my list of priorities,” she stutters, her chin raising a little in indignance.

One of his shoulders shrugs and Harry makes a little face as if he was indifferent to her answer, even though she knew much better than that. Harry always wanted to get a reaction out of her, maybe that was all he gained from their interactions - entertainment. She didn’t know, but she didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction and left it at that. His eyes meet hers again, his stare far more intense now. “Ciao, diavola.” He simpers, repeating the little nickname. It was far more sultry of a nickname than ‘Shrimp’ but she wasn’t going to complain. She rolls her eyes in response, the only correct one at that.

That night, she found herself feeling pulled to journey down to the pub. It was on the Italian side and like she had acknowledged to Harry, she hadn’t been. She wouldn’t admit to anyone, especially not Harry, that his question had been what had pushed her towards the establishment when night fell. Yet, here she was. Her pants were dark red silk that matched the black tank top with red embellishments that she wore over her chest - the only part of her it really covered. Her boots were a matching black with gold metal bits, they were knock-off horsebit Gucci shoes, the closest she could get to the real thing with her modest budget. She was having to be more frugal lately, after buying her car here in September, she had really seen how little money she truly had.

The heels of her boots clicked against the cobblestones as she stalked up to the front of the bar. There was happy chatter seeping out the open door, the warm but dimmed light also flooding out along with the sounds of people within. Taking a deep breath and fiddling with the waistband of her pants for a second, she made her way into the bar. Stepping off the deep end and making the plunge. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but after months of not going there, she felt a little sense of apprehension now.

The warmth was the most surprising bit of the bar that she felt when she stepped past the threshold. Some Italian song was buzzing below the words of the patrons and she smiled at the automatic welcome she felt upon entering.

At the tables, there was a mix of younger and older patrons. At the bar, there wasn’t much of anyone. The young bartender leans across the bar to talk to another man, who had dark brown wavy hair and a dark linen shirt on. He’s seated at the bar and his back is to her so she can’t make out anymore than that. She doesn’t notice the myriad of tattoos gracing the patron’s arm that rests casually on the bar as he laughs at something the bartender had said, just for him.

She smiles, thinking it’s a cute little flirtation between the two and hates that she has to go over to break it up. Her movement gets the bartender’s attention easily and has the patron glancing her way as well. The smile she had once had falters off of her face and her eyes go wide at the realization of who she has settled herself beside. She had left a seat open between her and the man, but now she wished she had chosen a spot across the bar and simply flagged down the bartender. Better yet, she wished she had stayed home. As her smile falls away, Harry’s only grows wider. He’s grinning down at her as he moves his whole body to face her.

“Ciao!” The bartender starters, not noticing her discomfort at seeing Harry. He begins to ask what she would like in Italian, but her eyes widen even further. He’s speaking far too fast for her and she blushed in embarrassment. In her fluster, she forgets to even try French and she just stares dumbfoundedly at the handsome man behind the bar, who’s now looking at her with great curiosity. Harry has watched the entire thing and chuckles behind his glass. She has no attention span left to allow her to even try and guess what he’s drinking.

He interjects for her, actually saving her any more embarrassment, surprisingly. “She doesn’t speak Italian. She’s from the French side and new in town, so she hasn’t been able to refine her Italian.” The bartender gives a smile and nod of understanding in her way and she wishes she knew what Harry had just said. Whatever it is makes the bartender switch to French for her and her jaw goes from being dropped back into a normal position.

“What can I get for you, mademoiselle?” He transitions smoothly and she smiles, his French accent sounding practically perfect. She’s recomposed herself, but Harry is still watching her intently, like a reality television show that he can’t wait for the trainwreck finale to occur on.

After she orders, the bartender gives her a wink and then walks off to get what he needs to begin preparing her drink. Harry slides over, eliminating the courteous one seat between them. Her eyes watch the movement and she refrains from the letting out the sigh festering in her chest. She really had hoped he would not be here tonight, at least that’s what she believed. She truly felt embarrassed that the night after Harry had accused her of never going out, he had seen her out. But it also was nice not to be sitting in the bar alone. It seemed that Harry had been sitting alone at the bar before she had come in, but she also wasn’t Harry and didn’t know how much enjoyment she would have gotten out of being alone.

“I see my words had some effect on you.” He says out of the corner of his mouth after running his tongue over the bottom of his lip. Her scoff once again dies in her throat because she knows he’s right and he knows it too. There is no being proud right now. He essentially caught her red handed.

“Thought I’d come out and see what all the fuss was about. I see you’re alone tonight, but I assume that’s how most nights go.”

“You should know by now that is simply not true.”

“Just because you leave with someone doesn’t mean you come with someone.”

“I guess…” He trails off.

She picks up when he doesn’t seem to have any more of a response. “How do you even meet people here? Isn’t it all locals?”

“Not always. Not all of the people here are locals tonight,” He scans the crowd. “She’s visiting...So is she...that whole group actually. Look French. So we’ve got a group from Nice tonight…” He looks a bit more. “Eh, that looks like it tonight, but still. It’s plenty.” He finishes with a smirk and she grimaces, understanding the meaning behind his words.

The bartender returns with her White Russian, which Harry had cocked his head at, but had kept his opinion to himself for once. Expecting Roman to return to their conversation, Harry turns his attention back to him, but he is only greeted with the side of his head because Roman is still staring at Y/N. He coos something to her in French, that Harry can’t pick up and his nostrils flare when she emits a giggle following their exchange. The two people he was last talking to were now ignoring him to talk to each other. How rude.

After another moment without their attention, he huffs loudly. Roman seems too entranced in Y/N to notice, but her eyes slide over to him. “Yes?” She inquires, albeit disdainfully.

Harry isn’t sure what to say to her now that he’s gained her attention. He was on his second drink and her stare has made his mind go blank. All he had wanted was for her to stop flirting with Roman so that she’d pay attention to him. But he hadn’t thought of his next step yet. He takes a sip of his beer to grant him a little more time and she rolls her eyes at his action. His mind rattles through possible things to say, but every single one is coming up as not good enough.

“I used to be in a band.”

Her head tilts and she swivels more to Harry. His comment is unexpected and rather intriguing. She had expected something annoying or rude. Truly she had just expected him to say “Nothing” once he had swallowed his drink so he could distract her from enjoying her night.

“You were in a band?” She asks incredulously, her voice pitching slightly higher than normal. While Harry was many things, including handsome, she just didn’t think he had the right persona to be in a band. He dressed like a grandfather most days and he tended to a little shoe shop, he didn’t come off as a guy who would enjoy traveling around performing. The constant praise would be on brand though, she conceded.

Harry nods and bites back his smile, knowing he had struck the perfect chord. “I was...it only took off in the UK but we were pretty popular.” He boasts.

“So what do you play?”

Harry’s eyes widen, expecting more of a question about the name of the band or something. “Well, it was, like, a boy band…” He says.

She was taking a sip of her drink and she contained her little laugh behind her glass. Another hum as she swallows the liquid that burns her throat a bit. “Oh. Interesting. So no instruments.”

“Well I can play a bit of guitar and piano!” He adds quickly, seeing her eyes shift away from him, like she thinks the conversation is over. “I was thinking of trying a solo thing, but then plans changed...”

“And now you’re here?”

He echoes her, affirming the question. “Now I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t miss it then?”

“Didn’t say that. I miss it at times, but this is where my life took me and I’m happy to be here. Maybe happier than I ever was in the band.” His eyes stare at the liquid in his glass and he swirls it lightly, determined to study the way it moves as he ponders something quite personal to him. He never really talked about his past with anyone here. Saying he was in a band and retrospecting that time are two very different things to share with someone. She’s just watching him now, not trying to make a quip or bug him. His demeanor shows that’s not something he’s very interested in hearing right now.

She experimentally puts a finger on his knee when it seems that he’ll never raise his gaze from his glass. His eyes move down to the tiny pressure he feels and sees her painted nail poking in to him. His tongue darts across his lower lip as he raises his head to meet her eyes. He notices the sparkle in them, she finds amusement in the childish gesture and so does he.

“I do miss the stage though,” he admits, smiling more now. “Performing. It was like nothing else.” Instead of a sad state of mind, his look is far more wistful now and she actually feels the smile growing on her face.

“You’ll have to sing for me sometime, then.” She says resolutely after taking the last bit of her drink and then pushing the glass across the bar. Roman had wandered off, much to Harry’s pleasure, but now they both needed another round so she was looking for him.

Harry slides over a chair so that they’re sat side by side. He had originally done it to reach across her for a napkin, but then hadn’t retreated to his original seat after he was successful. They talk as they drink, but most of it seems to be flirtatious teasing even if neither of them recognize that fully. Harry just wanted her attention earlier and now he found that he wanted to keep talking to her all night. It was a Friday and usually he would be looking for someone to take home. The group of women at a table that he had observed were visitors would be a perfect place to start his quest, but that wasn’t on his mind. He liked watching the different shades of blush Y/N’s face kept turning as she drank more and how silly she was getting with each passing drink.

She was enjoying her time out, she had only gotten wine drunk in the confines of her little home since she’d been in the little border town. And that endeavour was all by herself. It was much more fun when you had someone to talk to, so joking around with Harry was a nice surprise. She no longer felt embarrassed about showing up after he had teased her for never going out earlier today. Now she felt empowered, like she could come to the bar whenever she pleased. He was nicer than she had realized. His hand was quick to encircle her back respectfully when she laughed a little too hard at a joke and began to tip off her stool. His smile was genuine and his eyes didn’t flit over her body more than once. His jokes were funnier than she had first thought or maybe that was just the alcohol clouding her mind, that one she wasn’t sure about. But, truthfully, Harry was exceeding expectations tonight and being a stand up human being for once, in her eyes.

A couple at the end of the bar, locals, watched on as the shoemaker and the bookkeeper threw back their heads in boisterous laughter and placed their hands on each other chastely. The older women smiled to themselves as Y/N smacked Harry’s bicep after an especially cheeky joke he told her. They were going to have a field day with this interaction once they told their friends tomorrow morning.

After drink three, she definitely felt drunk. Not completely out of it and can’t walk drunk, but I haven’t drank anything stronger than wine in months so three cocktails are kind of hitting me drunk. And because of that buzz that’s enclosed her mind and body, it makes perfect sense to her that Harry’s hand is resting casually on her knee as they talk. It also makes perfect sense to her to cross her legs, causing two things to happen. Harry’s hand shifts up further on her thigh and her boot is now dangling right next to Harry’s shin. The fabric of his cream linen trousers look especially soft and so the next logical move in her mind is to rub her foot against the fabric. She hooks around her foot easily and the patent leather of her shoe slips softly against the pant leg that flows over Harry’s calf.

He hums lowly at the feeling, but makes no other notion to acknowledge what she is doing. After the hum he gets back to the story he’s telling her about his boat. She had been extremely interested in the boat initially, but not she was transfixed on the feeling of the fabric slipping past her boot. When he shifts his leg, absentmindedly or not, she almost squeaks because this movement has Harry’s foot brushing around her ankle. The footsy was occurring without any acknowledgement of it besides small sounds the two had made in their chests. No knowing looks, just the presence of each other’s bodies against one another.

He had switched to a Manhattan after his second beer for some reason that she didn’t ask, but he was enjoying it nonetheless. When she slipped her foot against his calf, it had sent a spark of electricity from the point of contact up to his alcohol muddled head. It felt nice so he went with it.

Around midnight the two of them were practically in each other’s laps, nursing their fourth round. Brains a million miles away while their glassy eyes stared at each other. Harry’s arm nestled around her waist while hers played with the stir stick in his glass. Their heads inches away, closer than they’d ever been before.

Somehow they decided they should walk home about then. Maybe Harry had checked his phone and decided he was done. Maybe she had glanced at the clock above the bar and realized she needed to go to bed. Either way, they slammed down the last bits of their drinks and stumbled into the street. With only each other to hold them up, they had some trouble gaining their balance. They could walk just fine if they wanted to be serious, but Harry kept trying to step literally on her toes and she kept throwing all her weight into his side. Both of their actions would cause them to stumble one way or another along the empty streets. Their blurred minds thankfully didn’t get them lost, but the travel time back to their places was far greater than the travel time to the bar initially.

Finally arriving at the border of Italy and France, their shops and homes, she stared up at Harry under the glow of the streetlamp across the street. His hair looked more dark brown than his usual caramel chestnut in the light. His linen outfit billowed across his pectorals that were exposed. A tan golden color that he seemed to maintain from his frequent runs and trips on his boat. His jaw had a bit more stubble on it now, his morning shave no longer sleek on his skin. His mustache was still the most prominent bit of facial hair he had and she wondered what he might look like without it. She also thought if she’d ever kissed a man with a mustache, her mind was pretty sure she hadn’t.

As she stared, she moved from his side and took a step closer to her door. His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her and bringing her attention to his eyes. He dropped her hand and stepped closer to her. They had been laughing about some weird encounter she had in Nice the other week. But now their laughter had faded out, the conversation all but forgotten.

“Hi.” She says meekly.

“Hi,” Harry laughs.

“I had fun tonight,” she muses and takes a step forward. She began swinging her arms back and forth, rocking on her feet. She felt antsy now that it was so quiet. The silence made her realize it was really just her and Harry together right now. Which wasn’t unusual, they had been alone together plenty of times. Maybe it was the time of night, but it felt far more intimate to her this time which made her squirm a little. Why was she nervous with Harry right now?

Harry nods and laughs again at her actions. “Yeah, you’re not so bad.”

Neither of them realized the proximity of their bodies until her hand swung a little higher and hit Harry’s hip bone. “Oh! Sorry!” She moves to take a step back, but Harry grabs her hand once again and tugs her even closer. Bringing them chest to chest under the lamp light. Her eyes flicker between where their bodies touch and Harry’s face. He’s looking down at her sweetly, gently. She feels safe with the way he’s looking at her. The warmth radiating from him was a nice contrast to the dark cold of night. The open expanse of skin that lived between the two sides of his mostly unbuttoned shirt seemed to have the most heat coming off of it. He had a jade cross that hung between the two muscles and she almost reached out to play with it. If it hadn’t been so dark and she hadn’t been so inebriated she would have realized the color matched his eyes almost exactly.

He’s not quite sure what he’s doing, but for some reason it feels like he might kiss her. The mood that was set by their surroundings made it sound right. Romantic even. Her lips look precious too, plump and puckered, flushed from alcohol and the brisk night air. They look a little glossy too from the last time she had wet them. He wanted to feel them for himself. His head ducks to move his lips to touch hers.

Upon registering his movement, she moves her hand from his grasp and places it on his chest, causing him to take a small step back.

“I think...I think this should be goodnight, Harry.” She breathes out. She’s trying to clear her mind enough to have conviction in her decision.

After a little intake of air, less than a gasp, Harry agrees, running a hand through his hair, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Her hand slips from his warm chest, immediately curling in on itself to maintain the warmth his body had just provided. She watches her tendons in her hand ripple before looking back at Harry with heavy eyes. He doesn’t seem to want to make eye contact with her, but she’s determined to leave on a good note.

“Thank you, Harry.” He looks up from beneath his lashes at his name, like a shy toddler. “You gave me the push to face a fear of mine.” With her final words she crosses the little distance between them once again and places a chaste kiss to his cheek. Immediately, his cheek flushes and she can feel the heat beneath her lips, as well as the light prickle of his stubble. Harry swallows, causing his Adam's apple to bob quickly, at the contact. His senses get overloaded with the sweet kiss and the smell of her perfume. It all swims through his consciousness.

She smiles as she pulls away and then turns to let herself into her place without another word. Once unlocked, she gives one last glance to Harry who’s also busying himself with opening his door. She doesn’t see that his free hand is caressing over his cheek where her lips had just been.

The next day, she woke up and groaned feeling the stiffness in her body. Especially her head. Oh god, her head. It was like she was back in college, but worse because she wasn’t as young. At least she didn’t have to roll out of bed for an 8 am lecture. For that, she was thankful. Still, the pounding needed to stop or subside at least. Grumbling, she threw her legs off the side of her bed, the fuzzy socks she had slipped on in her drunken stupor settled on the hardwood. She dragged her body to her window and raised the shade. Her window was fogged from the difference in temperature outside and in her room. Kneeling down, she began to pull open the window, in need of the cool fresh air on her clammy skin. Three drinks, or was it four? She couldn’t remember, either way, it was too many.

Her eyes glanced around the view of the window. It wasn’t much since it was so close to the building right next door. Peaking up, she could see the already clouded sky. To the left she could see the street and to the right was more buildings. The scene most easily accessible was the window right across from her. The shade was mostly closed, a little bit of the floor could be seen where Harry hadn’t lowered it completely. It was just the same hardwood as what she sat on staring back at her. She sat there, breathing in the crisp morning air. After a night of drinking, she usually woke up rather early, today was no different.

It dawned on her, far too slowly, that a pair of feet had entered the plain hardwood scene she had been staring at outside her window. A tiny stage now filled with two matching characters. The pair of feet were tanned and large. Little tattoos seemed to be sprinkled both on the toes and the ankles of the feet. She couldn’t read them even if she tried. But upon realizing what these feet might be doing, she had been discouraged from staring any longer. Still, her brain was foggy and her body was not nearly quick enough to hide her from view as the owner of the feet did something to open his shade as well. Then, once again, like deja vu, she was staring at her naked neighbor. Thankfully, this time, he had briefs adorning his hips to keep covering the part of him that would keep her up for weeks trying to forget again. The briefs were, just that. Brief. Low on the hips and barely touching his thighs, it seemed they really only existed to keep that one appendage covered. Still, she had to tear her eyes away from the lower half of his body and let the embarrassment wash over her when she met his eyes.

The knowing smirk of his has him nibbling at the inside of his cheek. She had been checking him out. It was a nice confidence boost after last night. The awkwardness of her stopping him from kissing her had him spiraling in his mind when he went to bed. He didn’t know why he had even tried to kiss her in the first place, probably just because he was drunk. Yeah, he was drunk and feeling needy on a friday night. That’s what it was and she had been there.

He’d have to thank her today for putting a stop to that colossal mistake. They were barely just friends, he hated to think what would happen if he’d done something so reckless as to kiss her out of the blue. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought in the back of his mind that he had gotten the vibe from somewhere. Why else would his drunken mind tell him to kiss her under the glow of the lamp light. He thought back to the bar and what they had talked about. He wouldn’t categorize it as overly flirty. He thought back to their physical interactions at the bar, okay, maybe his hand on her thigh and her playing with his drink was a little flirtatious. But that could be boiled down to him being close to hear her in the bar and her idle fingers wanting something to do while she was drunk. The footsy, though. He wasn’t sure if he could explain that one away. Instead, he would choose to ignore it. If he didn’t think about it, did it actually happen? Was it something he had to worry about? Not in his mind.

Returning his focus to the girl in the window across from him, his smirk was now fully fleshed out on his face. She was still sitting on her knees as Harry looked down at her and if they were in the same room this might have seemed like a rather compromising position. Her cheeks were still red, noticing the difference in height, she clambered to her feet.

“G’morning,” Harry’s voice is groggy and deep. Scratchy almost from the alcohol he had drank last night. It rings through her ears lowly and seems to have her blushing even more. It’s a different feeling than how his voice used to make her feel.

“Hey,” She clears her throat before responding, not wanting her morning voice to crack in front of Harry. Usually she would talk to herself a bit or sing along to her music before going downstairs, not wanting her first customers to hear her as if she just woke up. For some reason, she makes a little wave along with her greeting, feeling especially awkward at this moment. Harry chuckles and repeats her motion. His large hands mimicking the same daunting motion makes her laugh and releases some of the nervous energy she had been holding in her body.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he openly flirts, placing one hand on his naked torso and the other against the frame of the window, leaning towards her. His movement flexes just about every muscle in his body and she keeps her eyes trained on his face, determined not to be caught gawking once more.

A roll of her eyes and she’s back to staring straight into his green ones that he’s still blinking awake. “It’s almost like we’re neighbors.”

He scrunches his nose at her deadpan. “You’re no fun,” he mutters.

She sighs, “I’m fucking hungover after last night…” and runs a hand through her tousled hair.

Her foot rests itself over her other, causing her hip to just out slightly. The movement of her body that accentuated her curves and her words have Harry blushing now. The red flowers at the center of his chest and begins to spread up his neck and cheeks. He’s once again presented with the almost kiss last night.

“Big night out for you,” he laughs, “I’ll admit I don’t usually drink that much, bit of a lightweight myself.”

She only hums in response, her fingers beginning to twiddle with the hem of her t-shirt. It reminds her of what she is precisely dressed in. The big t-shirt and tiny pajama shorts that Harry can’t even see are the only things on her body besides the socks on her feet. She glances down at her legs and takes in the expanse of fleshy skin that is showing just below the shirt. Harry’s eyes follow hers and admires the skin there, wondering what it would feel like underneath his big hands.

“I should probably start getting ready for the day,” She says finally, shaking herself from the random thoughts flitting around her mind about bare thighs and the man across from her. “Are you open today?”

Harry emits a noise from the back of his throat at her question. He draws his arm back from the window and stands up straight. His head tilts as he thinks about her question, his mind still muddled this morning.

“Er..no, actually. I was planning on going out on the boat today, switching my closed day to today instead of tomorrow. Why?”

“I’m in need of shoe repair,” she smiles, her eyes catching the glimmer of the sun starting to peak out. Harry swears it’s her eyes genuinely sparkling on their own accord. “But if you’re out today, it can wait.” She begins to walk away from the window to go to another room in her apartment.

“No!” Harry steps forward, but is restricted by the screen, which keeps him from falling out of his window. She swivels around, looking at him curiously. “I can - you can just come over. I’ll fix it up for you before I head out.”

“Really?” She’s truly surprised that Harry would do such a nice thing for her. She knew they were getting along better, but for him to open shop just for her repair seemed overly nice.

“I mean,” and Harry’s once again blushing under her gaze and he’s hoping she can’t see it. “What are neighbors for?”

“I guess,” she’s still unsure. He seems like he’s nervous, his body tenses and one of his hands twisted in his curls. Harry’s so weird. “Thanks.”

She jogs the short distance from her front door to Harry’s once she’s ready. The pair of deep teal almost navy loafers she needed new soles in - she was pretty sure - in hand. A red pinstripe blouse half buttoned falling over her figure perfectly, hugging the right spots and flowing over the others. She’s in white jeans today that are flared slightly but also cropped. As it gets closer to Halloween she keeps having to remind herself not to dress festive and it’s a struggle everyday.

When she reaches the door, it doesn’t open. The cream door doesn’t budge as she tempts the handle with her free hand. She looks between the handle and the inside of the shop. Her eyes search for Harry’s figure. She had been inside his shop only a handful of times, never for a repair before. Maybe less than a handful, once to check it out and once again when she thought she needed a new pair of shoes and then decided against it. Oh, and that one time she went over to yell at him about something. Maybe the planters, maybe the shade, she couldn’t remember anymore.

Now that she thought about it, she had been in the bookshop once more. Two and a half years ago when she had visited the little border town for the first time. It was a little fuzzy for a memory, but she was sure she had at least peaked into the shoe shop after her lengthy visit with Marie the second day there. It looked just as it did now, maybe it used to be a little more vibrant, but she couldn’t be sure. She remembered an older man in the shop greeting her in Italian and her offering her sad ‘Ciao’. Back then she was even worse at Italian. He had looked at her with kind eyes and a sweet smile. It was a similar lopsided grin that she had now grown accustomed to on another man’s face. After beckoning her over to him the old man had turned away from her and shouted into the back of the store in quick Italian. It blew over her head completely. There must have been someone in the back of the shop who he had talked to. She was sure of it, because after she had perused the cute boots and shoes he kept, she saw a swish of hair coming around the counter. It was just as she was turning around to exit the shop, after she had bid farewell to the man she now connected as Joe. Whoever it was had long hair and was tall, slinking out into the main shop floor. The mysterious stranger was whoever Joe had shouted to in the back.

Y/N wasn’t the quickest when it came to timelines and how people could change over time. She didn’t connect the year she had visited with the year of someone else's arrival or the same chestnut waves cascading around someone’s face, just now much shorter. It made perfect sense who would be in the back of the store, but for some reason the idea of time and hair length were standing in this girl’s way. Oh well, maybe Harry would spell it out to her someday.

Harry finally rounds the counter that separated the back room to the front. The shoe shop was set up a little different from the bookstore. Her counter was right when you came in while Harry’s was about halfway through the shop. He shakes his head and laughs at her expression. The sound brings her out of her memory as well as a grimace on her face.

“Sorry, I was a million years away.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘a million miles away’, love.” Harry continues chuckling while correcting the girl in front of him.

She holds up her pair of shoes, ignoring his teasing. “Fix my shoes, shoe man.”

His smile drops and he walks back from the door. His feet taking back steps as he beckons her into the interior of the shop. When they reach the corner, he takes the shoes from her hands and places them between their bodies. The teal loafers stare up at them. Harry inspects them, a serious expression falling over his features. His brows scrunch together slightly, the wrinkles in his forehead growing more prominent as he examines the shoes. Large hands reach out and begin to finger over the patent leather on the top and the leather soles. After a few minutes of silent deliberation, he places down one of the shoes and then holds the other up as if to showcase it.

“These,” he juts out the shoe in his hand, “need new soles. What did you do to ‘em?”

“I wear them a lot.” She insists while Harry looks on quizzically.

“I’ve never seen you wear these.”

Her brow quirks at his comment. “I wore them a lot before I got here,” she corrects. “They’ve been feeling wonky every time I try to wear them, must be because they need new soles.”

Harry nods, now satisfied with her answer. He hums, regarding the teal shoe in his hand once again. “Alright.”

She looks at him confused once again. “Alright what? Can you fix them?” What does he mean by ‘Alright’? “I’ve honestly missed wearing them these past few months.”

Harry bites his tongue, a quip ready to be voiced. He’d gotten so used to fighting with her, he was confused how it had slipped away all so easily. His fear of them not talking if they stopped fighting didn’t seem to come to fruition so he could rest easy on that front. But now he was going to have to retrain his brain not to be rude after every comment Y/N made.

“Yeah, of course.” He sighs, placing the shoe next to its mate and then turning his face to her. She had been chewing on her bottom lip, actually worried for her shoes. They really were her favorites. She’d had them forever and it would be heartbreaking if they had to be thrown out. If she couldn’t wear them though she was almost sure she’d just let them collect dust in her closet rather than dispose of them if it really came down to it.

“But it’s like a good amount of my day to replace soles…”

Her face falls, but she tries to hide it. She knew Harry was doing a favor by taking a look right now. If he could fix them it didn’t matter when he did it. What he says next though truly throws her off. No normal enemy-ship turned somewhat friendship overnight would engage in what Harry was about to propose. If any such relationship other than her and Harry actually existed.

“Do you want to come out on my boat today?” His brow arches, his lips in a soft smile, he’s being genuine.

“Why would I do that?” Her brows raise along with her voice, taken off guard by his suggestion.

“More fun waiting for me to fix your shoes on a boat than in your shop.” He says simply before taking the shoes and placing them in a little cubby hole behind the counter for safe keeping. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” Her expression doesn’t change. “Just say yes,” He pleads now.

She sighs, “Fine.” All of the reasons not to go out on Harry’s boat are at the forefront of her mind, but she still finds herself saying yes easily. His pleading really wasn’t necessary to get her to agree. The bookstore could live with being closed today, it wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #eventually both of those will bop up #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #feedback pls ❤️#me putting this uo at 12:30 am oops

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capstoverogers · 3 years

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Stolen Jeep - Part I

Ok hear me out

Bucky Barnes and Howard Stark, bros to lovers, set in the Captain Carter “What If” timeline

(Because I have an uncontrollable urge to make everything gay. Sorry, can’t help it.)

“Bet you won’t steal that jeep.” Stark baits Barnes with a quirk of the brows.

Bucky hits Howard with a look - brooding Barnes meets scheming Stark, and there’s *sparks* that neither of them are gonna talk about.

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

So of course Bucky steals the damn jeep and Stark is thrilled, because he’s finally gotten one of these stiff ass army punks to dick around with him.

Not like dick around, he doesn’t mean it literally, but...you know what, I’m just gonna stop talking.

They whisk off swole!Peggy & scrawny!Steve in the stolen jeep, stocked up with a buncha also-stolen whiskey (Barnes is a rascal, and Stark is loving. it.) with plans to steal one last thing - just one moment where it doesn’t feel like they have the entire world on their shoulders.

They end up parked on this overlook with glittering stars as far as they can see, and of course in no time, Peggy and Steve meander off to make eyes at each other and talk vaguely around their feelings with that overused dance metaphor, leaving Howard to catch Bucky’s eyes and waggle his brows suggestively at their two friends’ retreat.

“Don’t get too frisky!” he calls out devilishly at Peggy and Steve’s ebbing figures. “We still got a war to get back to!”

Bucky tilts back his head and howls, bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers. He can just imagine Steve’s cherry blush.

“She’s gonna break ‘im,” he says, and Stark joins in on his cackling.

“Hell, I’d let her break me,” Stark jokes. Barnes smirks.

“Yeah? You like ‘em buff?”

If that sounds suggestive, then Bucky’s blaming it on the alcohol and not on how the air suddenly seems thicker between the two of them.

Because, look. Bucky’s a dude in his prime, but being in the army - there ain’t much of a chance for some action, you know? And we’re not talking frontline, Hydra-busting, gun-toting action here.

But, like, Bucky’s dick’s been real dry lately.

And he’s always been...not a homo, because he can appreciate a dame real good but, ya know, he can appreciate a lot of other things too.

Like a lot of different kinds of people.

Fellas. He could appreciate some fellas.

Not that he’d ever say it out loud (not that he ever could; they’d boot him back to the States so quick he wouldn’t have a chance to pack). But there were a few nights he found his arms wrapped around Steve to, you know, comfort a friend but maybe he enjoyed it a little more than that.

All that to say - Buck’s drunk and constantly horny and he can recognize a handsome man when he sees one.

And Stark - yeah, he’s handsome. A little smarmy but good looking.

Speaking of Stark, he’s smirking now too at Barnes’ suggestion as he gives a coy shrug and a quick sweep of the Sergeant’s frame.

“I like ‘em all sorts of ways.”

Because c’mon, you can’t tell me playboy hedonism isn’t in the Stark genes and just because he doesn’t fondue with Peggy doesn’t me he hasn’t fondued with fongirls and fondudes and everyone outside and in-between. He’s a rich and charming New Yorker, dammit, who came of age during the Roaring 20s.

Like y’all really think alcohol was the only thing people were sneaking during those Prohibition parties. Sexual fluidity wasn’t invented in the 21st century; just talked about more.

Now Howard’s definitely gonna eventually settle down with a lady - that’s ultimately more his speed. But in the meantime...how does that one saying go?

All’s fair in love and war.

And they’re in the middle of a pretty big war right now.

So yeah, Stark’s drunk and he’s feeling mischievous and Barnes is all ruggedly handsome in a way that he can really appreciate. He’s always liked a square jaw.

And Bucky likes ‘em a little delicate and real mouthy.

So when Peggy and Steve make their way back to the look-out, hands slotted together after finally getting that kiss - quick and chaste but so sweet - they find Stark and Barnes fucking in the back of that stolen jeep.

(Can’t decide if it’s “Brokeback Mountain,” all-the-way-fucking-in, 0 to 100 style or if it’s a gentle arthouse hand job à la “Moonlight” - I’ll let y’all decide.)

“Guess we can’t return that jeep now,” Steve quips.

*Cue trombone whomp-whomp sfx. Marvel’s 20 minute credit sequence starts to roll*

Part II

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sonderthroughthestreets · 4 years

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Splitting Universes

Here is the sobbe fic that I wanted to write for their anniversary last friday but obviously im late for it lol

Someone said that Sander said “In every universe” because it comforts Robbe with his multiverse theory and that Robbe said “At least in this universe” because it comforts Sander who believes that life is what you choose to make of it. Sooooo, here is Sander painting on Robbe’s back while talking about the universe and brown-haired Sander asking Robbe to marry him. Hope you enjoy!

“Hold still, will you?” Sander’s voice faltered into a chuckle.

He was sitting on the floor, back to the edge of the bed, legs crossed, holding Robbe as he tried to glide his paintbrush across the skin on his back. The two of them had summer break before the start of the next year and they’d somehow found themselves fooling around, dancing in Sander’s room and finally settled into a spark of an idea in Robbe’s mind to let him paint his back. His shirt was gone and he’d sunk into the floor, crossing his legs too, leaning forward instead of letting himself lean back in the comfort of Sander’s arms.

“The paint is cold. I’m cold ok,” Robbe scoffed, turning his head to try to meet his eyes with a smile. But Sander smirked with half-lidded eyes and pushed his head back into place. He let out a breath of the tiniest laugh.

It was killing Robbe not to look at him. Especially not after he grew out his hair. Sander had cut it a few years ago and let it go back to its natural brown, let the bleach blond wash out and wash away. It was terribly short then, but now it had grown out in longer locks that he just had to style every morning. Today, it was tousled in a messy-but-every-hair-was-perfectly-in-place kind of way. It looked similar to when his hair was bleached but darker roots had replaced the white wash. Some days Robbe could swear he’d seen Sander like this his whole life and others he felt like he was looking at a whole new world.

He also wished that he could see his face right now, the concentration he wore when a creative mood strikes.

“Are you almost done?” Robbe asked.

“Not even close,” Sander answered, his fingers moving swiftly, changing between brushes and colours.

“Can you at least give me a hint?”

“Mmhhh,” he mused. “It’s something we talk about a lot.”

“That could literally be anything,” Robbe pouted. He wanted to know what Sander envisioned across his back.

“Let’s talk about it now,” he dipped his brush in water. “You think that when someone makes a decision, the universe splits itself,” he said. Nothing more. Silence as Robbe contemplated.

“You’re painting me the universe?” Robbe shifted to try to look back at him.

“Hold. still.” Sander gripped his shoulders.

“What kind of universe?” Robbe pondered. He lazily ran a finger down his own palm as he awaited his answer, the fan humming in the summer heat.

“I don’t know” he smiled, though Robbe couldn’t see it. “Any universe you want.”

The way he said that made Robbe smile too. The way that when he said it, he meant all the universes, that he could have any universe because in all of them, one way or another, they were together.

“Hhmmm,” Robbe murmured in contentment. He stared around Sander’s room: the Bowie posters spread across the walls, his camera laying on his disorganized desk, papers and drawing utensils scattered, his easel in the corner, the dresser off to the side, his clothes neatly folded on the bed. The open window let the warm breeze through and the sky made everything in his room glow the softest, palest blues, greys and greens. Robbe’s eyes finally landed on his shirt discarded on the hardwood floor and he felt shivers all over again as cold paint slid on his skin.

It was moments like these where they talked some, then fell into silence, talked some more and finally fell into each other’s touch that eased both their minds. Sander was very quiet now.

“What are you thinking?” Robbe asked.

A sort of sad smile crossed his face, one that he couldn’t see.

“Sander.”

And Sander knew that tone all too well. He delicately placed a hand on Robbe’s neck, softly smiled into his hair and kissed his head. Once, twice, a third time for good measure.

“Do you remember our first night at the hotel?” he asked softly.

“How could I forget?” Robbe sighed happily. But his fingers weren’t on him anymore and Robbe actually felt heat dissipate from behind him as Sander leaned back a bit. He turned his head the slightest, hesitant to look at him for fear he might actually ruin the work on his back. Robbe waited patiently. He recognized his insecurities at play but he wasn’t quite sure of what.

“I know that..” Sander started. “I know that that night I wasn’t...but I meant every word...and I know that I asked once already...”

He was grasping for courage to say what he wanted. Robbe knew he could be ever so confident in his words, even more so in his touch, but sometimes it faltered and he saw him sheepish and insecure. Things started to click in Robbe’s mind. They hadn’t exactly talked about this since that night. At least not seriously. It was always fun banter, like an inside joke or like the continuation of an ongoing plan that may or may not ever be seen through. They were so busy living in the moment, the future had seemed so far away.

It had been

“When we get married I’m painting everything in the house. We’re not buying prints”

“When we get married?”

“We’re getting married right now”

It had been

“Mr. Driesen”

“Oh, we’re married now?”

“In my mind we are”

It had been

“Do you think I should get another ring?”

“Depends. Do you want to be called Mr. Ijzermans?”

It had been

“You’re making croques again? Marry me”

“Okay”

Laughter and kisses always followed. Comfort in agreeing a million different ways was always found. But a concrete, tangible answer was never there.

Robbe understood now why Sander had seemed hesitant and unsure with all this talk of the universe and decisions. They’d been together for more than two years now yet they hadn’t really made official plans for marriage. They were still studying in uni which meant of course, they’d wait until after, but it was never a conversation that lasted very long. While Robbe had talked about all his theories, Sander had made sure to tell him that he’d choose him in every universe. But sometimes it seemed he became overwhelmed with that many versions of them and he didn’t want to think of a world where they might not choose each other every day. Robbe shifted his legs carefully and placed a hand on Sander’s knee, feeling the fabric of his shorts cling in the heat. A signal, a sign, a plea to carry on. They could both feel a nervousness set in, their hearts fluttering in this fleeting moment.

Sander sighed.

“Robbe Ijzermans” he said. “Will you marry m-“

He didn’t even get to utter the question before Robbe turned around, took his face in his hands and connected their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.

When someone makes a decision, the universe splits itself.

Sander had a lot of time the past couple of years to think of this. Robbe loved to talk about the multiverse theory, the parallel universes, and the alternate dimensions. He talked his ear off about how each can be so different and in one he’d find himself being a skater or a gamer, in another he’d find himself studying anthropology, and in another he may even have gone to an elite school. Or more so maybe he could’ve been the one studying art instead. Or how he could be in one where he didn’t meet his friends, in one where he didn’t have to miss his mama so much growing up, or one where his dad made different choices. Choices. Decisions. It always came back to that. If we all made different decisions, life could’ve been very different, Robbe had said. And once we make a decision, there are two worlds, one where you chose one thing, another where you chose different.

Whether Sander wanted to admit it or not, that scared him a lot. It scared him to think there could be a world where he continued on with Britt or worse, one where he hadn’t met Robbe. And with each decision solidifying closer and closer a world where Sander and Robbe stay together, he had wondered if living in this universe was enough. If not thinking of the other worlds and staying here together was enough.

Robbe had soothed his worries, tapped the worry lines on his forehead, kissed his temple and had run fingers softly through his auburn hair. He had reminded him of his own theories of life becoming what you choose to make of it. He had reminded him that they were together in this universe.

But nothing was reminding him of that fact more than this kiss they were now sharing.

Sander’s fingers tangled in Robbe’s hair, now a bit longer and fluffier, his mouth softly tracing unspoken words into his lips. He felt Robbe’s hands slide from his face to his neck to grip his black t-shirt and pull them up as they both rose to their knees, a more comfortable position than before. They both let each other fill their lungs up in this hot, searing kiss, somehow both passionate and gentle. Sander breathed out as he broke apart first.

“Will you?” he teased.

“Yes,” Robbe pulled him in for another kiss. “Yes.”

And just like that a decision was made, a world was created.

Sander broke the kiss again.

“I don’t have a ring for you,” he smirked.

“I don’t care,” Robbe’s mouth etched up as he drew closer, searching his lips. Both of their eyes twinkled in an enticing, tantalizing manner. Instead Sander leaned back and smiled, standing up to get his ring from the dresser.

“Here,” he slipped it onto Robbe’s slender finger.

“Thank you. It doesn’t fit,” he snorted because sure enough, it was a little loose and sliding off his hand. This proposal was far from the real thing Sander had planned, especially since they were still students, struggling to keep afloat in the midst of studies and spending time together, but this moment was finally real.

As Sander took back the ring and slid it on his own hand, Robbe asked,

“Did you really paint the universe on my back?”

Right. He’d almost forgotten what prompted him to think about their future together in the first place.

“Come,” he tilted his head in the direction of the bathroom in the hall. He took Robbe’s hands and lead him to the mirror where he turned him around and showed him.

It was a galaxy of stars and sparkles, colours of blacks, dark purples, greens, pinks and blues all mixed into a combination of an ethereal light. It was everything Sander had been thinking about with Robbe. His fears, his doubts, his joy, his love.

“In every universe, right?” Sander entwined his fingers with Robbe as they both stared at his back in the reflection. Robbe took the time to stare at it a while longer.

“Yeah,” he said. Then he looked at Sander with dark, dilated eyes, squeezing his hand. “But especially in this universe, too.”

#wtfock #wtfam #thank you so much bianca for reading this over #💖#also this is probably like my first official fic ive written so sorry if it kinda sucks lol #fic #my fic #omg all my italicized words got unitalicized🤦‍♀️

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scandeniall · 4 years

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dive deep //ch.1

pairing: Akaashi Keiji x reader

Chapter 1: New Editor Needed | prologue | next | masterlist |

summary: yes this is a writer!reader and editor!akaashi. not much more to say. Based off of this piece i wrote and lets just tell the story of how we ended up there. I will say, that due to this actually having plot akaashi isnt in this part but is in ch 2. Author’s notes (which are impt) always at the end.

warnings: profanity, manga spoilers (with careers), will add more but im sure its gonna be alcohol because thats my personal brand

wc: 925 (its short but i figured it was a good place 2 stop.

“God, how many editors have you gone through.” The writer had seen better days, not as of late, but better nonetheless. It was obvious through displayed behaviors as of late. From the hostility laced in every word, to the unusually messy apartment. Not that a writer’s apartment was ever pristine, but if the several empty bottles of wine littering the house were anything to go by, the writer was having a rough time.

“Now is not the time Kenma,” the writer said. The wording came out muffled through the comforter covering the writer’s body. There was no doubt she had also buried themself under pillows as well. Glancing around the messy room he noted the mini garbage can filled to the brim with crumbled balls of paper. He’d have to get Kuroo to help him clean up.

“I can’t hear you, would you come out before I call Kuroo.” That was a lie. He’d heard the sentence, and despite protest he knew his friend was already enroute over. He was always better at handling these slumps.

“You probably already called him. I don’t care.” He hated times like these. The crash after the stress, and in this case anger.

“Now (Y/N). People who don’t tell people that they don’t care.” A third voice joined in the room and suddenly the cover shielding the writer from the world had been removed. Kuroo ignored the glare before taking his own look at the writer’s bedroom. “Did a hurricane come through here,” the man stated rather than asked before turning to greet the other man.

“Remind me to change my locks,” (Y/N) said, eyes rolling at the two men who are currently acting as offenders of invasion of privacy. Neither men acknowledged the quip, as they turned to themselves. “How long has our hermit been like this,” Kuroo questioned. He didn’t even flinch at the sock that had been thrown at him. Not that it had hit him anyways.

“(Y/N) fired another editor.”

“What is that, the third one now.”

“The fourth.” Kenma shrugged, before finishing. “I have a meeting to go to. It's a new game proposal. Handle this would you.” With that your friend promised he’d check in later, before making his exit. And then there were two. Once you’d pulled the cover back over, Kuroo took it upon himself to open the blinds, lightening the dreary room.

He contemplated the approach he wanted to take, to try and get his dear friend out of their slump. The forceful one, where he’d carry the writer out of bed if he had two and forced her to get fresh air, which he knew definitely hadn’t happened lately. Or the compassionate friend tactic. The once he’d mostly saved for heartbreaks, and other dire situations. However, considering the state of the apartment being the worst he’s seen in years of knowing the writer, he figured he’d go with the latter tactic for now.

Settling onto the bed, he heard the grunt of pain as he sprawled himself over the writer. A silence settled among the two before Kuroo felt himself being shoved off with a huff, and then his dear friend emerged.

“Wanna tell me what happened.”

“Saito is an unbearable controlling jerk, so I fired him.” The sentence had been filled with spite. Remembering how the old editor acted and treated the craft, filled (Y/N) with anger.

“And”

“He kept comparing me to other writers. Kept trying to get me to completely change the manuscript. Jerk is supposed to help me, not trash every word I give him. Then there's Suzuki and the agency who are demanding the book by the end of the year.”

Kuroo nodded along. While he didn’t have personal experience in the agency, he’d been friend’s with her for the past few years. Meeting in the first year of university, the two hit it off in a general ed literature class. He’d seen the writer be awarded several writing awards throughout their collegiate journey, even self publishing their second year.

The end of their third year, had resulted in his friend's official joining with HatchWorks Publishing Agency, publishing a professional book just over a year later. Now three years post university, the writer has only published short stories. They’d mostly been pieces written years prior and just edited to perfection. However, the agency wanted another full length work, and had cracked down and given it to the end of the year for a final manuscript. Little did they know about the loss of another editor, who also acted as the writer’s agent. “So, what are you planning on doing” Kuroo adjusted to accommodate the shift of his friend now leaning against him.

“Dying. Drowning my misery in alcohol and tears. I don't know Kuroo.” The two sat in silence each in their own heads. She is contemplating how she's going to survive without a job, if she can’t get the book together. Afterall, royalties and sales just decrease as the years pass. She’d have to consider a real career and admit to everyone who set writing wasn’t a real job that maybe they were right.

Kuroo on the other hand, was taking a mental note on everyone he knew. There had to be someone in the industry. Not Yaku, nor Kai. Kenma is obviously in gaming. Not Bokuto, but wait. Shooting up Kuroo disturbed the woman who had previously been resting on his shoulder only to look at him funny.

“I’m the best best friend in the whole wide world.”

A/N: ok so this is my first time trying out this writer style (im dumb and tipsy and cant think of which POV this is) also, im posting a band au either sometime in the middle of tonight or early tmw, yes that piece is also my new kid. i guess if anyone wants 2 be on a taglist i can make one???

#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi imagine #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu headcanons #akaashi fic #dive deep

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rktingyan-blog · 5 years

Text

heeeey rookies dash lurkers !! it’s mun blaire here, making a comeback with a new muse, miss chong tingyan !! i used to mun kard’s somin, but, i was so low on muse and my activity was the absolute worst !! however, i’m back with a new muse, who i’ve worked on developing a lot more and i adore ( but it’s also the elkie stan in me popping out ) !! she’s similar to somin in a lot of ways, but has tons of differences, too !! this time around, she’s chinese, 20 years old, and a more angelic type of mean ?? but she’s still loves to dance and has that fiery spirit somin posessed !! anyways, i hope this time around i can be a lot more involved in the community than i was before, and have tons of fun developing her with you all !! if you’re interested, you can find her plots here, profile here, and bio here ! and, as always, feel free to contact me on twitter @blairemeetsrp if you’d like to plot, as i’ll be more active from now on there ! trivia and little tidbits about this chaotic tsundere under the cut ! give this a ♡ and i’ll pop in your ims !

okay i know i say this and never do but this time around, i’ll actually try to keep things short! i’ll leave out the majority of her background this time, because it can be found in her bio if you’re interested and it’s rather complicated!

as a condensed version - she’s from shanghai, china! nowadays she’s pretty glamorous and would never confess this to anyone who didn’t know but back in the day, she lived n the outskirts of town because her parents both worked for the upper class! her dad a dishwasher, her mom a housemaid.

so you can kind of see where that idea of serving other people plays in, right?? anyways, being the only daughter & having 2 older brothers they were convinced that marrying tingyan into money was the only way to bring her family out of poverty!

so they put her in etiquette classes, her mom taught her to cook and clean, she learned ballet (the only thing she liked & still does from the things they made her to), basically anything that screamed wife !!!

at first she was like...ok. but then she got interested in music, kpop especially, and more types of genres of dance than just ballet. she loved performing & knew that was the way she wanted to go, and what she wanted to do in her life instead but knew there was no chance it was happening!!

she didn’t expect the whole marriage thing to happen so soon, but it did phew!!! literally, as soon as she graduated, they started making plans to marry her off once she turned 20. of course, she was like, what??? she had worked hard through high school and she was going to attend a prestigious university so marrying a random man definitely wasn’t on the bucket list. but when she told them no things got really nasty and essentially they were like “we only wanted you for your husband!! if you won’t marry him leave”

so what did she do?? you guessed it folks, ran away from home and moved to korea with nothing but a suitcase and money she’d saved up from her part-time job for college!! sksksks, but she chose korea because it was the only other place besides china she held dear to her and it was still somewhat familiar?

ok soo. she really had no idea what to do, because she was sad about the whole scenario & really lost because she was in a whole other country. but she saw how much beauty impacted koreans and how it was a moneymaker and was like huh?? maybe i can do something w/that???

this next part is gonna be really short because it’s a little ridiculous and requires too much explaining, so if things don’t make sense feel free to read the bio, once again!! at this point tingyan didn’t believe she was very conventionally attractive, yet reeeally wanted to fit with the asian ideals of beauty so she wouldn’t stand out as much. but people liked her because she was charismatic & kind of a flirt?? so, she essentially became a sugar baby (stick with me sksks) to pay for plastic surgery, and after an agonizingly long period of surgeries and recoveries, she finally felt comfortable w/herself!

sidenote i do not condone changing yourselves for others in any way!! this is 100% tingyan though on the other hand, i you want plastic surgery for yourself?? do you!!

even nowadays, though she gets more attention because of all her enhancements she’s still a little self-conscious deep down? because she knows that it’s not real, and that she probably wouldn’t get as much attention otherwise :((

anyways!! she soon joined a small international school along with a language course to both further her study & learn korean quicker. and though it helped, nothing could compare to what dance did for her!! as mad as she was to her parents for making her take all those classes, she’d stuck with ballet, branched into other genres all throughout high school, and really missed it when she left china. so she joined a dance studio in seoul and it finally felt like her life was piecing itself together again!!

now let’s skip the rest because this is getting too long ugh!! now, onto the current tingyan!

nowadays, the adjustment to korea has gotten better. she’s been here for a little over 2 years now, so while there’s still a lot to learn, she’s gotten a lot better grasp than she had 2 years ago. she’s still in college & took up a job as a model once she realized her looks could get her beyond just getting a date? so now she models clothes for several online stores. and she really likes it, but she knows it’s not a steady career & she still really hopes to do something with her love of dance.

sidenote she’s also kind of off the radar?? she tries to live a private life and although she’s a model, she keeps her personal things private because she doesn’t want her parents to find her in seoul. so while she may come off as closed off, a big part of it is this rather than her just being cold!

a lot more bold than she used to be! she feels that since she was raised to be so dependent on others, she has to be twice as strong to prove she can do things on her own! so that’s why in almost anything she does, she tries to prove that she’s the absolute best no matter what. but she’s scared of being seen as obnoxiously rude & angry like her mother was to her, which is why she’s developed the queen b-esque style she has today. isn’t afraid to speak her mind, no matter how someone may feel about it, and definitely not shy when it comes to romance. shes’ the type of person to say the meanest things but so politely that they actually seem nice?? if that makes sense.

right now, though?? she doesn’t really know she wants to be an idol just yet. she knows she wants to perform, but doesn’t believe she has what it takes yet to get there! at the moment it’s not something she sees herself doing but that’s what development’s for, right?

she still has sugar baby tendencies lmao, but she’s rather shameless about it. she makes it known she likes money, and likes to be spoiled by whoever she’s seeing! often times this is how she funds her expensive taste, but she won’t openly say that. she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s from a low-income family, especially since she lives in gangnam where all the elites reside, so she often claims she comes from wealth!

so if your muses have money and want to spoil her, tingyan is taking donations lmao!! she doesn’t discriminate & can be your muse’s arm candy!!!

omg i’m a mess

while one would think this would go against her whole being independent and working for herself thing going on, tingyan feels she’s kind of working hard to get the money too?? her words directly, and i quote, “keeping conversation can be exhausting, and a job in itself. have you ever had to feign interest in your partner’s golf addiction?”

but she does! not! like! commitment! after having marriage practically thrown at her, you could see where the fear to settle comes from? she really wants to take advantage of the freedom she’s gained and is really just liking where she’s at - not taking life too seriously and seeing who she wants when she wants!

she probably needs people to ground her and give her some stability because of this?? at the moment she doesn’t really have anyone keeping an eye on her or someone she can feel she can trust in, so she’s a little lost! and though tingyan will never say it to your face, i’ll do it for you - she needs real friends!!

but...also enemies?? or any sort of angst because - yes!

i think that’s it!! i want to leave the rest to be explored during plots and don’t really want to write a whole essay to write at you, so that’s all i have to say on my newest addition! i hope you love her, and, if you’re interested in plotting please let me know!

#❝ ooc. ❞#so excited!! ^^

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koolkvat-blog · 5 years

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hello loves , what’s up ! i’m super excited to be here & to finally play my precious girl , jade aka kool kat . i’m LOLA , use she / her prounouns , i am NINETEEN , & i am currently in the gmt + 1 timezone which means yes , my ass should’ve been awake for intro posting but i don’t know what time management is and ended up swamped w/ work , so ! everything you need to know about about miss kat is under the cut , & i’m rlly thrilled to be apart of such a wonderful rp with such gorgeous muses . corniness over –– if you’re looking to plot sumn out , just hit that ♥︎ & i’ll make my way on over to ur dms , or feel free to add me up on discord which i’ll give in im’s if anybody’s interested ! ♡♡♡ tw : family issues , body image issues & drug mention ( not explicit ) .

001 . SYNOPSIS . FULL NAME . jade kikuchi . NICKNAMES . kool kat . AGE . twenty - one . DATE OF BIRTH . twenty - seventh of september , 1993 / libra . PLACE OF BIRTH . harajuku , tokyo , japan . GENDER . cisgender female . SEXUALITY . ( closeted ) pansexual . NATIONALITY . japanese , now american too after successfully gaining citizenship . ETHNICITY . asian . OCCUPATION . fashion designer at katz designz , former fashion design and journalist student back in her original timeline . PLAYLIST . here ! ( + ) charismatic , enthusiastic , warm , energetic , adventurous , compassionate , animated . ( - ) deceptive , independent , emotional , territorial , ambitious , impulsive , temperamental , insecure , sarcastic .

002 . AESTHETIC . wheatgrass smoothies , 90′s anime with subtitles , chanel no. 5, speeding on a desert road with the windows down , painting your toenails on the dashboard , neon prints , cat lazing on a balcony in the sun , black lace , japanese horror films , sour cocktails with sugar around the rim , half - smoked cigarettes , stacks of fashion magazines , long hair hastily dyed different colours in a motel bathroom , thrift stores .

003. INFORMATION .

tl;dr : a flighty, inattentive adventurer: a follower of whims; personable and sociable but lacks the skills to maintain relationships because she’s entirely (and perhaps too) career focused, checks her horoscope daily and entirely relies on the stars when concerning relationships, epitome of a britney spears / gwen stefani stan back in the 2000′s, still owns a (bedazzled) flip phone, collector of vintage fashion (chanel, elle, juicy couture etc.) a subscriber to the Leonardo Da Vinci sleeping method; catch her at 2 am making soufflés or buying plane tickets to shiwei so she can really experience the culture: will tell you she loves you ten minutes after first introduction because she’s high: kind of unintentionally insensitive to those she doesn’t know and closed off but in like a cool, lovable way.

• heads up im running on like 5 hrs sleep so sry when this inevitably derails ! ok sweet let’s get into this .

• so as aforementioned this is jade kukichi, aka, kool kat. she was dubbed that by her friends due to her unique fashion style and sense of dress, and it’s stuck. lbr nobody other than her friends can use that term so if you do, she’s just going to stare at u for a quick sec before saying ‘it’s jade’.

• born in harajuku, tokyo to a cardiothoracic surgeon of a father and a politician of a mother, jade grew up traveling the world and becoming flighty af, never thinking she was going to make long - term friends and kinda being okay with that.

• her family has never stayed in one place for very long, though her aging parents eventually settled into a permanent residence in the us around the time she turned sixteen, not soon enough for jade to break the habit of wandering, but thankfully quick enough for her to meet the bratz girls who were just as adventurous and fun - loving as she. she's spent much of her teen life jumping from place to place wherever her interests are that moment, collecting people along the way, but to find friends was the only thing she was missing. jade has a brilliant mind, but she lacks patience and follow through. she needs guidance or she'll jump from idea to idea, job to job, whim to whim.

• ngl, jade pretty much hated her home life. her parents were an overbearing presence in her life, her mother wanting jade to be a proper lady who also went into a profession like theirs (entirely serious and stifling when it came to creativity, doctor, politician, lawyer etc.) while jade herself wanted to check out the latest trends and go to the mall w her friends – so she turned all of her focus and energy into getting good grades in everything she wanted to do in the hopes that she could be the most successful fashion designer, then leaving town forever.

• like she spent 7 yrs in high school graduating w honours but she barely knew what was happening in 9/10 of her classes and sometimes she just slept through classes and then wing her exams which she miraculously did well at. it was just not a good idea to send jade to a public school at 11 after being in boarding school for the rest of her life and then never really enforce any rules :~\ she has trouble with that kind of thing.. as in making logical choices instead of saying "YEAH lets go watch american psycho and smoke weed!" skipping chemistry to do just that

• she loves fun and values doing what makes her happy over most things. it's hard to pin her down and she spends most of her life chasing after ideas that don't really follow any sort of conscious order, bc she’s really got that ‘i’ve got dreams and i’m gonna do everything in my power to achieve them’ personality.

• according to bratz canon she’s worked as literally everything ? she’s one of those insufferable people who r just. good everything ig and that’s just how it is on this bitch of an earth. jade’s been a photographer, a song - writer and bass player in a rock band (shout out to bratz rock angelz the best movie w the best soundtrack ever), a student studying fashion design, a fashion columnist, a quickly fired nanny, and many other things in between.

• so when she appears in toonsville she’s kind of out of it that she’s not doing something w her skills and sets up her own business which she loves ? being her own boss suits her fine (for now) because she’s got a Real Job and she's actually trying rly hard so she can fulfill her dreams !! like suck it mom nd dad haha !!!

• jade has a lot of weird feelings TM about her body and her looks and struggles a lot with her self confidence :~( she had a shit time at school with boys saying she was too thin and she compensated by acting like she didn't like anyone at all for a while and now she thinks she isn't good enough for anyone when rly she is a cinnamon bun too good for this world too pure

• best friend ever she is so good at being a friend if u text her at 3am to go out or cry on her shoulder shes ready to go at 3:15 even if she was sleeping w lots of snacks and treats and love!!! she is sooo extroverted around those she’s comfortable w, she gains so much energy from being around people and she loves being nice and being around ppl she likes

• she becomes the mom of groups pretty easily (hence why she’s the leader of the bratz) bc she bottles up most of her own problems to help ppl with theirs!! which is toxic yea but she puts people first always so !! plz help her poor repressed soul!! rip kool kat..

• still super into the stuff of her time so like.. she loves the x files and bad reality tv shows (i want to be a hilton) and reads gossip magazines on the reg because she enjoys that stuff! also very into girl groups.. ginger spice / posh spice is an eternal mood.

• anyway yes sweet adult-child of 21 (she is in denial about that tho like she doesn't want to be childish) who is v nice v kind v loyal v baked a lot of time, v passionate v silly. idk what i'm doin hope u like it < 3

004. WANTED CONNECTIONS .

friends / best friends / ride or dies . jade genuinely loves people, loves talking to strangers and getting into intense conversations with people she’s only just met, learning other people’s way of life and bettering herself for getting. she is, however, incredibly blunt and has never once minced words to keep from hurting someone’s feelings or to ease them into a situation. she’d much rather have a one-time conversation with a stranger than make long lasting relationships. she has three very close friends – to the point of co - dependence – and honestly, she’d rather spend all of her time doing things she loves such as her hobbies, sticking her nose into the latest vogue, or searching for cute collars and treats for her cat mica w them instead of making new friends. she's also FUN and she'd be happy to go on crazy road trips or buy out a movie theater for a day or anything that she thinks will her buds happy. she's traveled all over, so she’s v well read and cultured. she loves people but she hates complication and won't deal with any sort of emotional labor. she wants to live in the moment and expects everyone in her life to do so as well. just be chill, y'all.

frenemies / enemies / rivals . please be her enemy, she needs people to antagonize shdhshd. she grew up pretty much affluent so she’s pretty spoiled even if she doesn’t want to admit it, and that rebellious side of her hasn’t died down yet. despite the fact that she is wealthy and in good community standing, she has a hard time letting go of childish grudges. in general she’s got a lot of suppressed feelings and ready to fight everyone who hurts her friends – like an irritated cat – so, honestly, come at her ? she is sometimes a little fickle and flighty and a unintentionally stuck up when it comes to art / fashion and she has definitely said the wrong thing at the wrong time and pissed the wrong people off, she can’t stand anyone underestimating her or thinking she’s dumb bc she’s interested in fashion. like gtfo !

ex’s , fwb’s , possible love interests . jade is fairly fluid romantically and is the type of person who hates labels but also just wants to be cherished and called cute pet names lowkey. she loves a lot and gives a lot to her relationships, but typically doesn't want to commit to anything important. she’s gone from one disastrous relationship to another, ending up with a boyfriend who constantly ridiculed her image that was essentially the catalyst for her cutting off romantic ties, quite a recent wound before she found herself on the island actually. worst thing is tht she’s convinced herself that she’s been the problem in these relationships – that she turns good people bad or that she is too much for people to deal with, she’s not sure what the issue is and she doesn’t really want to know. so…. fuck everything amirite ? anyway, she’s a strong independent woman who don’t need no (wo)man.

etc . pls give me people jade can give a makeover to, people she shares an apartment w on the island, people who think fashion is girly and vapid.. creatives who love what she’s doing, anything tbh << 3

#cartoons:intro #ngl making jade's playlist was the best part about this

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namjoonchronicles · 5 years

Note

Ok. Let's talk. Let's talk about how I used your stories to keep me company on my train rides and flights this past week. Let's talk about how your characters helped me relax, and distract me from my anxiety of going so far away. Let's talk about how every new update was like a lifeline, so I screenshotted them when I knew I was gonna be out of range, out of service. Thank you

It’S 2:19PM WHERE I AM AND IM IN PUBLIC IM CHOKING UP HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME 😭💕

Ok let’s talk... (I hear Namjoon’s voice especially that ‘lets talk’ part) ☹️😣

I’m sorry I can’t write new things now, but I’m gathering myself and everyone is helping out with all this positive messages, I’m just very invested in my real life right now and until it’s settled, I’m going to be weirdly in and out of this blog... and I’m picking up new books and mangas to try to find my imaginations and wordings and style again. I promise I’m not slacking or anything by reblogging all my old work. It’s kind of a reminder of what I’ve written bc sometimes I forget that I’m a writer haha it’s weird. I promise to come back, I don’t know when but I will.

#answered #😔💕🌷

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oswhys · 5 years

Text

Dumb AC concept ideas

So this is basically a info dump of ideas for potential AC games and concepts that its been playing with in my head, it's mostly me nerding out about junk (look if I can info dump about Teotihuacan I’ll do it.) like it's ideas that I think would be cool and what id want to see in future installments, even if they aren't likely to happen. It's also written super casually cause I started making this in a burst of inspiration at like 2 am and yet still got distracted from it cause I started going on tangents. So it's a bit of a mess. I’m totally down for bouncing ideas around if anyone has their own concepts.

1920’s jazz age assassin from the beginning of unity and the abstergo employee handbook. "The lives and failures of the most degenerate Americans to ever grace the world's stage - Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and Stein." please tell me how this doesn't sound cool as shit? Okokokokokokok SO… CARS. like this dude would have a car (and of course the player can earn different cars and looks for their car and junk, including a yellow Duesenberg… like come on if he knew Fitzgerald they gotta let this dude drive Gatsby's car.) I think there can be an argument about him having a rope launcher attachment buuut maybe not??? I mean a car and a rope launcher would be dope as hell. The dude probably bounced between Paris and New York if he's a genuine jazz age junkie like how abstergo describes him and his writer pals. Also it would be cool to meet Picasso… also his base of operations should be a fucking speakeasy, like duh, like where else would a 1920’s assassin camp out? I don’t really have any plot ideas but the concept of a jazz age assassin is cool enough for me to want it this badly.

1970’s-1980’s William Miles in a corporate espionage type game, like i know he had Desmond in 1987 but he was an active filed assassin in 1977 when he was in Moscow so clearly he could've been doing other junk around then. It doesn't have to be him, i just want a 70’d-80’s assassin trying to fuck with abstergo and trying to steal animus research or something. Like Alieen Bock died in 81 and that was at the height of animus research before abstergo started really investing in it cause of Vidic. Like the surrogate initiative and the animus project are… basically the same thing really. Like knowing that Altair and Ezio were not actually related until their bloodlines crossed with Desmond. So with the memory keys being cited as an integral part of the animus project they obviously had a role to play in the surrogate project. Besides the newer games are pretty loosey-goosey with how the DNA and animus junk works now, with the spear having DNA traces or whatever and its corrupted enough that we could… choose things?? (don't ask questions just have fun i guess.) ok i’m over thinking this stuff… but come on… disco!!!!! Please please please have a disco assassination. Like… the idea of an assassin taking out a target at the disco is cool enough for me to want it. ALSO!!! If it goes into the 80’s then please for the love of god a Thriller inspired outfit would be to die for. Like i know getting the exact look would be a trademark nightmare but an inspired look may be able to get away with it. I just want some real corporate espionage type missions while dressed in some brightly colored dorky(cool as shit) 70’s/80’s fashion.

So like… ANYTHING from ancient Andean culture. So The Chimú or the Moche… that would be cool, but I'd settle for Wari and Tiwanaku. I just kinda want to see Chan Chan recreated. And Moche art was so fucking good like… idk man they're making video games that are mostly of ancient cultures now so the possibility of them making something in a more modern setting is slim to none. Like come on they're gonna want to make like idk maybe one more really ancient cultural game so they can still reuse assets again before making a whole new saga. That's just their track record. The problem with doing an ancient andean cultural video game is that there isn't a lot to work with other then our knowledge of the architecture and artistry of the ancient peoples. We have art documentary significant events but there isn't really any historical recordings so there's no significant figures to meet or events to take part in that we know of right now. BUT that also means that hey if Ubisoft wants us to have freedom of choice within the narrative this would be a great opportunity.

Speaking of ancient culturesssss ancient Mexican cultures would be REALLY cool too. Like obviously Mayans culture is the first to come to mind but AC already kinda explored the Mayans so idk maybe a more underrated ancient culture deserves the spotlight. The Zapotec and other civilizations in the Oaxaca. Like this would be really cool since we actually see a rise in raiding and conquest warfare, like theres these bas-relief stone carvings called Las Danzantes which are actually depictions of sacrificial victims, most likely foreign captives. The architecture is also to die for like i’m a sucker for talud-tablero style stuff popping up in ancient Latin america. Also do i gotta say it? BALL COURTS!!! A recreation of the ancient ball game in a video game would be cool as shit my dudes like… please i want this so bad. Like how origins depicted mummification with respect I’d love to see the same kind of loving dedication to the funerary practices of the ancient peoples. (off topic completely but some latin american civilizations had their own forms of mummification) like i wanna see the abandonment of Monte Alban and the later use of it by the Mixtecs. But the most important thing about the celebration of the ancient Zapotec would be the ability to celebrate the modern Zapotec culture, that would just be cool. Ok I’ll finish up this train of ideas with the one i really really really want to see recreated, the original Teotihuacan, before the Aztecs found it. With the pyramids being painted and covered in beautiful carvings and, of course, talud-tablero style architecture. It's basically the biggest ancient city in mesoamerica with hidden cave systems that we are still finding today and so much of the ancient city was built over because it might've been covered up or eroded to the point where no one knew it was there, or because there wasn't really anyone who cared enough to uh, not build on top of historical sites. Modern mexico city is built all around and on top of it (apparently you can see Walmart from the top of the temple of the sun…) so its a huge ancient city that was really colorful and really populated with crazy ancient tunnels underneath the pyramids that we’ve only discovered recently so how fucking cool are those possibilities? Like i just can't get over the idea of some assassin-esque person climbing up red pyramids and sitting next to statues and carvings of Queztalcoatl painted in a turquoise. Ancient farms and city life thriving. From what we know about it, like many other ancient latin american cities it was abandoned at some point, exactly why is unclear though (probably a mix of things cause there wasn't any kings really but more like… neighborhood councils (that's the best guess rn)). It was an actual city though, most archaeologists compare it to modern cities due to its city planning and its huge population. What was left behind was so spectacular that when the Aztecs found it they legit thought it was the city of the gods. This was a real fucking city and I’m crazy about it man i want it in a fucking video game my dudes.

COWBOYS PLEASE. Like i know rdr2 came out so they probably wont do it (for a while at least) and they already have the gold rush assassin so they've dabbled with cowboy stuff but… cowboys… like theres nothing else to say really… Cowboys. Also like i know how AC is pretty much ass melee combat and cowboys means guns and lots of guns and bows and probably rope darts. But… folding swords. That my shitty solution to have melee combat, like syndicate had melee and some gun stuff cause duh, but it was mostly melee. Like you can make the game centered around stealth so a lot more sneaking then combat, kinda like in unity. I have a few ideas for this one but most of them play into my own personal cowboy wish fulfillment fantasy of owning a farm with snakes for the production of venoms and other toxins. It's hard to explain but i kinda really want to see someone with a snake/spider enclosure where they produce venoms for the protag to use. The specific time period i have in mind is like 1870-1888 but it could defo go later. It's just that was peak for a lot of famous gunslingers and robberies. And Mesa Verde was basically rediscovered in the late 1880’s (its kinda weird like it was “officially” discovered in 88 but others saw it before that soooo. Also Montezuma Castle would be cool to visit in game as well. I dont have have a lot of knowledge about mesa verde or Montezuma but i know they're cool af.) the wild west is just ripe with possibility so i have some hope they’ll do one in the future but i don't see it happening anytime within the next couple of years.

Please for the love of god give me a AC3/unity dual sequel. Set in 1798 Egypt before during and maybe a little after the french invasion of Egypt. There would be a ton to work around and justify to get that to happen in universe buuuuut… i want it so badly. I have a shit ton of ideas but im saving all of that for a rainy day.

I wouldn't mind if they actually did stuff with WWI, mostly cause i really like that one WWI assassin from project legacy and Lydia's whole thing was really cool.

Ok I’m kinda on burn out after all that cause I just… its 4 AM and i’m supposed to be writing a paper but I made this big fucking oops.

#Assassin's Creed #assassins creed #assassin’s creed #this is dumb sorry i just... gotta express this shit #my stuff

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a-spoopy-bird · 6 years

Text

Non-Voltron au continued

YOU ASKED I DELIVERED HERE IS MORE FROM THE BRIDGE LANGST (lmao idk how to link shit)

The phone rang over and over. A click. Voicemail again. “Uh, hey Lance, it’s Keith again. Are- are you okay? You never showed up to physics today… I’m kinda worried. Uh, text me. Call me. Anything to let me know you’re alive. Actually, I’m coming over. So, if you’re even hearing my voice right now, then get ready.” Keith hang up. He was more than kinda worried. Lance has tried to kill himself before. Sometimes, Keith didn’t know if the one bridge accident was a blessing or not. Having Lance as a friend, while mildly annoying, was better than Keith expected. Lance did his best to hide his problems, hiding behind jokes and horrible flirting attempts. It’s been a few months since the Bridge Accident, and Lance has only shown his true colors when he was alone. Keith just happened to find Lance a few times. Keith shuddered at the memory.

He had been walking home later than usual. He was cautious. This was the time the druggies and the gangs came out. He’d have to be careful. He glanced down an alley and stopped flat. “Lance?” Leaning against a wall, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was uncoordinated.

“Keith, wussup?” Lance stumbled over. He was obviously higher than an airplane.

“Lance, come on, I’m taking you home.”

“No, no, don’t do that, please Keith.” Lance stumbled and leaned against the wall again.

“Why not?” Keith had little patience for high people. They were slow and clumsy, and usually said stuff that made no sense.

“I kinda came here to escape them, ya know?”

“Lance,” Keith sighed and shook his head. “Fine, then come on.”

“Not back home.” It was a statement, but it also felt like a question.

“No, you’re coming to my place so that you don’t do something stupid.”

“’Ight.” Lance walked with Keith, steps dragging slightly, teetering on every step. Keith did his best to support Lance, but he was a lot taller than Keith, which presented a problem. Lance couldn’t walk straight, and he seemed to want to just fall over.

Finally, finally they made it to Keith’s small studio apartment. Keith helped Lance up the stairs, with a lot of Heys, That’s my foots, and Stop it, come ons. Lance was settling down on Keith’s couch, and Keith was getting some blankets from a closet.

“Why do they hate me?” Keith froze. Lance was looking down at his hands, limp on his lap.

“Lance?”

“Like, I didn’t even do anything, ya know? They just don’t really understand. They get it that I’m into dick, that was mostly fine. My gram hates it, but whatever. I just- why don’t they see mental health kids, like, people with depression, as people who need help? Since when was that a thing?”

Keith put down the blanket. “Well, sometimes people, especially older generations, don’t see depression as a real thing. They mislead themselves by telling people they’re just a little sad.”

“Don’t they, like, care, though? Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do? Care?”

Keith sighed, getting the blanket. “I don’t know Lance. My dad left when I was a kid, and my mom was a drug addict. I don’t have much experience with real parents.” Keith brought the blanket over.

Lance sighed. “Keith, I didn’t do something wrong, did I?”

“No, you didn’t. Stop stressing it. Depression is very real, and they don’t seem to know that.”

“But- but they also just never has- have time for me, like? I might as well be invisible. Betcha they won’t notice I’m gone.” He laughed without humor at that.

“Give me your phone.”

“Wha- why?”

“I need to message Hunk, and I don’t have his number.” It was a lie. Keith felt spiteful. Lance’s parents should pay more attention to their kids, especially with all the sadness in that household.

“Ight, the password’s Shakira Shakira, with both s’s capitil- capitalized.”

“Go to bed,” Keith said, unfolding the blanket. “It’s late, and you’re high as hell.”

“So I’m low?”

“You know damn well what I mean, Lance.”

“Yeah, yeah, g’night, Keith.”

“Night Lance.” Keith turned towards Lance’s phone. He pulled up his mom’s number and punched it into his phone.

Keith Kogane: Hey, im keith, one of lances friends. I just wanted to let you know he was staying with me tonight.

Rosetta McClain: thank you. May I ask how you got this number?

Keith Kogane: Lance gave it too me. If you want, I can delete it

Rosetta McClain: no its fine. Thanks for looking after my boy

Keith Kogane: no problem

Rosetta didn’t answer after that. Keith wondered if she was just playing nice. Keith looked over at Lance. He had tears on his cheeks. Keith wondered if he even felt them.

“Lance?” Keith asked gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Why does everything hurt so much?” He whispered. “Why doesn’t she care? Why does he-” Lance’s voice broke. “Why doesn’t he give a rat’s ass? Do I- is this what I get? For being suicidal? For being a- a screw up?”

“Lance,” Keith said firmly, cupping Lance’s face between his hands. “You are not, I repeat, are not, a screw up.” Keith felt like someone was twisting his heart. “I don’t know why they don’t care, but look. You have Shiro, you have Hunk, Pidge, Allura, and Coran. And you have me. We will always, always be there for you.”

Lance’s pink eyes stared up at Keith, full of sadness and hope. “Really?”

Keith nodded.

But that was back in November. About two months after he had stopped Lance at the bridge. Then, back in January, he had heard Lance, thinking no one was around, talking to himself. About his family. About his thoughts. About how he feared himself. About how the darkness of his room terrified him, the way he could go months with his mask on, about how he was never enough. Keith didn’t intervene that time.

It was March. Lance has been drawing back. Only Keith has noticed.

He was at Lance’s house. How did that happen? The family minivan wasn’t there; the McClain family had gone on a vacation to their grandparent’s house. Lance had college, so he didn’t go. Besides, he had said, I don’t particularly like my grandparents. Keith knocked on the door. Loudly. Keith checked his phone. 3:27 AM. Lance was hopefully asleep. But the bags that have been under his eyes for the past week said otherwise.

“Lance, come on, open up.” Keith would never admit how scared he was. “Lance, if you don’t open this door, I’ll open it and hunt you down.” Thirty seconds passed. Forty-five. A minute. “Fine. I’m coming in.” Keith opened the door and walked into the empty house.

“Lance?” He called, walking through the halls of the house. “Come on, Lance, I’m taking you to McDonald’s.”

No answer.

“Lance?” Fear crept into Keith’s voice. “Come on, I don’t want to breach your privacy like this.” He continued to walk around the house, checking everywhere.

Keith stopped at a closed door. The light was on. He knocked. “Lance? You in there?”

One second. Two. Four. Twelve.

“Lance?” No answer. Keith sighed. “Fine. I’m going to open the door now.” Keith slowly opened it, tentatively looking in.

Lance was on the floor, not moving. Some pill bottles were spilled around him. His forearms were a mess from new and old wounds. Blood was pooled on the brown bathroom tiles. A bloodied kitchen knife lay next to him.

“Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.” Keith mumbled. “Lance, co- come on.” His breath hitched. He carefully picked his way through the mess. “You- you idiot.” He reached out to feel his pulse.

There was a weak fluttering beat. Momentary relief flew through Keith. He had to get him to a hospital. But in this city, would it just be faster to call an uber or an ambulance? Or just drive himself? Keith didn’t know. He had to stanch the bleeding. He looked around the small bathroom. He found two towels.

Lance’s arms looked worse when they were cleaned up. Long, deep cuts ran from wrist to elbow. He had lost so much blood. Keith taped the towels around his arms. He picked him up bridal style. Jesus, he was so pale. His usual tan skin was pale and clammy and cold. Keith carefully made his way to his red Honda Civic. Carefully buckling lance into the front seat, Keith took off, going as fast as legally possible.

The hospital’s lights glared down at him. He picked up Lance after unbuckling him. He walked as fast as he could. The secretary glance up when the doors opened, then did a double take. She called for a doctor to come and take him back. Keith sat in the waiting room. He pulled out his phone.

Keith Kogane: I have some bad news

Keith Kogane: Lance is in the hospital.

Keith Kogane: he cut himself up and took a bunch of pills

Keith Kogane: i rushed him to the er but he was really pale and cold

Keith Kogane: I don’t know what to do know besides just sit here

Shiro: Do you want me to come down?

Keith Kogane: if you want to

Shiro: I’ll be down in a bit

Keith Kogane: ok

Hunk Garrett: oh no! do you know if he’s going to be okay?

Keith Kogane: No they haven’t told me anything yet. I assume they’re going to flush his stomach, clean his cuts, and tr to get more blood into him.

Hunk Garrett: im coming down give me a sec

Pidge Holt: wait whats happening

Pidge Holt: oh fuck ok im coming down

Shiro: you cant drive

Pidge Holt: yeah I live close to the hospital be right there

END PART TWO

TO BE CONTINUED

#long #langst #lance mcclain #klance #part two #part 2 #langst family notice me #notice me senpai #l a n g s t #seriously #not gonna lie #im super proud of this

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end3rs-eye · 3 years

Text

ok i just finished watching the new mlp movie so here are my thoughts as someone who has been in the fandom since i was like 5

(quick warning this is really rambly and literally just opinions so heres your warning)

(spoilers ahead)

(TDLR AT THE VERY END)

So first thought, the animation style. I don't exactly like that kind of style but that's more personal preference and i know that that kind of style is gaining popularity. also was it just me or were they just cross eyed the entire time

i did like the start of the movie, it was a nice intro to the characters

kinda pissed how closely they copied the alicorn scene though

wow im just jumping around here

also what are those horns?

hitch's horn in this scene is so much better then what they settled on??

i did like pipp's horn though IT MATCHES HER CROWN

can we talk about this bop though?

youtube

ngl i didnt like how they ended off for several reasons

1. i would have really liked to see some character growth for sprout, he's really just a immature pony who mother didn't teach him responsibility

2. in the tv show the elements were about who each pony was as a "person" and in the movie in was literally based on their race, unicorn, pegasus, earth pony which is just dividing them??

3. i really dont think sunny had much character growth, or really anyone. like pipp and the other ponies that were against each other grew more then the main bunch. in the show each pony had a lot of character growth ESPECIALLY twilight, sunny always had the same train of thought and i wish we could have seen some change with that

4. this movie felt like it was half trying to talk about racism and they just didn't treat the topic like they should have. people dont have some sort of magical character growth just like that, it felt very sudden and very forced. also racism just doesn't go away with "oh we're all friends now!" i know that mlp has always dealt with heavy stuff like that but it feels different this time, maybe its whats happening in the real world or maybe its just that im not 9 anymore.

i was warned before watching the movie about this last point and i'll be honest, i didnt take it seriously. but after actually watching it i see what they meant and i agree.

on a more positive note:

heres some things i did like!

1. the throw back scene in izzy's cottage

youtube

you know- that thing

2. SHES SO PRETTY

3. i really liked the whole wire thing with the pegasus, it was an interesting way to show how places in power often lie to keep things calm

4. BUFF UNICORN

gotta be my favorite character in the whole movie

ok i think im done ranting now lmao

tdlrs below

(listed from most important points made to least important)

1. i wish everypony had more character development and i think sunny should have had more growth before becoming an alicorn

2. the "elements" were based on physical characteristics rather then personality ones, i didn't like that

3. i didn't like how they dealt with pony racism, it wasn't really realistic

4. i wish sprout- the bad guy- had more character development

5. the alicorn transformation was very similar to the original show

6. the animation style is not what im used to

7. i didn't like the horn they settled on for hitch

8. angry mob is a bop

9. i liked the throwback scene in izzy's cottage

10. sunny was really pretty as a alicorn

11. BUFF PONY

#Youtube #ender's thoughts #ender's analysis #sort of?#idk #mlp #my little pony #mlp new generation #my little pony next gen #idk how to tag #ramblings #this is 630 words #jeez

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bibbleboo · 3 years

Note

Could we get some headcanons/more background on Abbey and Doyle’s kids? 🥺👉👈 I love the premise of this AU

YEEEEE (im just gonna ramble a bunch about the backstory i have so far but ill put it in bullets so its easier to follow lol i apologize for it being long as fuck-)

OKAY SO,,, first of all,,, doyle and abbey timeline,,,, [i am looking respectfully]

in this au, they get back together and have a sort of ‘lovers pretending to be enemies’ chaotic on again/off again hookup thing off to the side just between the two of them thru like Most of the final season, they try to keep it a secret (especially doyle who doubts the saturdays would be hAPPY if he was seeing her again) but in the end, saturdays ofc find out, probably are unsure about it at first, but she gains enough of their trust to be there for the big finale battle in the weird world mansion.

when shit goes down and argost becomes the vessel for the two opposing kurs (regular kur, and the anti kur from zak monday) and they like. explode his matter or w/e, i imagine instead of kur just completely disappearing, the ‘anti kur’ gets shot back to its universe, while original kur gets forced into a new vessel in this universe... the closest of which happens to be the unborn child abbeys unknowingly carrying. basically, what if the two kurs just LOOKED like they evaporated but actually did what happens when you try to like tape two same sides of a magnets together and they YEETED-

So thats how we have Parker, their firstborn daughter! and this... also implies ‘Parker Monday’ exists which. 8^) i havent thought about yet so forgive me on that but hoo,

they dont know parker is kur, they got no idea and rly just assume kur is gone for good. but after they find out abbeys pregnant (which is a huge emotional trip for both of them in its own right) they do eventually sort of agree they dont want their kid exposed to that whole world of mystery. like, ik its a vital thing to the whole family, and ik these two people were probably voted least likely to ‘settle down’ in high school, but i cant imagine they didnt escape the kur/zak situation without a LOT of trauma, so while the saturdays stay in the cryptozoology field, doyle and abbey slowly pull away from the mystery and mercenary stuff, and also instead of going for big dollar lifestyle settle with ‘independently wealthy’ parenting.

also, neither of them really . grasp the concept that theyve even started a family, and are ‘together’, and that this is REAL, until around when she gets pregnant with their second daughter, Kendall. and then theyre like. oh nooo wait are we actually like boyfriend and girlfriend EWW-

when kendall is born parker is 3, and the next like 10+ years are pretty smooth sailing. as far as what the kids know/see, they probably know the cryptids when theyre little but. (tw animal death sORRY TO BE DARK I JUST??????) idk,, how long komodo dragons live/how old komodo already is and i definitely dont know Anything about giant prehistoric birds and am not even sure if science knows that lifespan, so. im not sure how long they could really be in each others lives??? i almost imagine parker would have memories of them that she assumes she remembers wrong, like “oh yeah they used to have a lizard and a bird... my imaginative little kid brain thought they were a komodo dragon and a dinosaur”, and as for fisk im still working on it but i . actually kind of imagine he might have a much longer lifespan (since lemurians are like ancient or w/e? and also if hes by dna like a gorilla cat or w/e gorillas at least live long af) and also feel like once he got older and settled down a bit he might live somewhere in the woods, maybe even his old tree? and the saturdays see him ALL the time obviously, but hey zaks gotta go to college eventually, a gorilla cats gotta eat bugs in forest, we all have to grow up and leave the nest sometime,

so idk the last time parker has actually seen fisk and she might assume he was an imaginary friend or smth but, 1. if i do write a fic they absolutely have to meet again, 2. overall the vibe is they know the saturdays are cryptozoologists, like, the same way josh gates does destination truth, seeking answers and studying, they dont really. know that theyre REAL. to them its like, a hypothetical science. (this is also part of why they dont realize parker is kur, she isnt around cryptids and therefore whenever her powers would actually show up they wouldnt be recognized) anyways parker isnt embarrassed or put off by it but just thinks its a little wacky, meanwhile kendall is obsessed with the world of mystery/paranormal/cryptic lol

speaking of the girls personalities;;;

parker is like. not really normie/preppy, even if she seems it at first glance, shes nice and has a good head on her shoulders but also is a teenage girl (inherently unhinged) and shes THEIR teenage girl (+5 feral) so despite her success and charm shes also very witty/crass when she wants to be, and deep down shes closer to the kind of person that would on pure inexplicable instinct put something random in your mouth when you’re yawning so you bite down on it afterwards. or like. that video of the girl singing in the bathroom while her friends curl their hair and she grabs the curler to use as a microphone before realizing its burning hot??? shes. the voice of reason, but the voice is usually shrieking in fear, making a cursed joke, or half the time whatever shes saying is actually smart. she kinda wants to go to college and travel, but struggles with indecisiveness and anxiety, so she has no idea where to go, what to major in, etc. and is again kinda just livin thru the typical teen life in that regard

kendall on the other hand is like. weird kid culture, the kind of kid that believes they are secretly a new supernatural creature each year (mermaid phase, werewolf phase, alien phase, etc), probably completely accidentally starts cults or witch covens at school (didnt realize teaching peers how to become ‘blood brothers’ and ‘make potions’ from puddles and stolen school supplies would be taken so seriously by parents) , very into emo/scene/punk/alt culture but not rly in an overtly dark/edgy way, more of a having fun and expressing self way. she wants answers for everything, really loves mysteries and being open minded, and definitely a rebel/adventurer at heart, even if she gets naive or in over her head sometimes.

the girls get along well! parker is not dismissive of kendall she just. isnt really into the same stuff/is more freaked out by it most of the time, but she would tag along on certain adventures, especially if it was to keep her safe. and kendall definitely directs gentle mockery towards parker a lot but does see her as a good role model and guiding figure, their bond is really strong!

other details !

doyle and abbey prob decide to say fuck it and get married after kendall is born, they probably have a few rough patches but nothing is more important to them than the kids now and in the end they understand each other better than anyone else so . canon tension idk her! family ftw! power couple! they intimidate the teacher during parent teacher conferences together hand in shady little hand !

their parenting style is exactly what one would imagine, 70% fun and sass and controlled chaos where theyre the bigger children than their children, 15% ‘this is how you hack the government and dual wield swords-- i was not supposed to teach you that im sorry’, and 15% actual guidance / emotional depth / etc. flaws might be overcoming their own immaturity for the first few years, and then being lowkey overly protective (while claiming they arent, but just bc you semi jokingly tell parker she should join the football team doesnt mean you dont actually hide 60% of ur life from her and check that her bedroom windows are locked every night and have 24 people listed in her school emergency contacts and used to cut up her food till she was 7 and-)

so abouT THE BABY BOY (Phoenix), 1. his middle name is leonidas bc im gay and i love emotional turmoil babes , 2. fully unironically the idea behind such a late pregnancy is abbey would be mid fourties when hes born right. so like. [has two kids] ‘ok birth control time’ [when theyre teens many years later] ‘ok im old enough to stop taking this’ [the hyperfertility curse that plagues many women rears its ugly head with one last hoo-rah]

and finALLY a very quick elevator pitch of what id write an actual fic to focus on;;; kendall sneaks into the attic to look for old shit bc they BOTH know their parents have been hiding stuff over the years, she finds things like a cryptopedia (now offline), the claw, maybe even a piece of the kur stone, and ropes parker into the long haul of figuring out what all this stuff is. and ofc the second they ever find the naga relic and parker comes face to face with it, [rest in rip] time for mom and dad to find out and all this kur shit to start ALL over again-

#long post/ //#tw animal death ment//#GOD THIS IS SO LONG IM SRY--#idk what to call thsi au forreal yet so ill just tag it as #dabbey baby au #TY FOR ASKING THO HEART HANDS

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gizoogletranslateshomestuck · 3 years

Text

PROLOGUE 1

Start

It starts witta crack. Subscribe, get yo issue. Everyth'n elze rizes up friznom that like steam: a trembl'n thread that cuts thrizzle space 'n jagge' lines, splinter'n tha vizzoid into razizzle shards of putrefy'n leptizzles n quarks popp'n apart like raw eggs 'n a micrizzle ya feelin' me? It’s com'n undone at a subatomic lizzle, frizzom tha bottom up, from tha insizzle out like a fucka. Friznom the tizzop dizzay it looks like tha eye of a storm—a black hole so supermassive that it spans tha width of eternity. It turns infinity into sum-m sum-m as thizzle n fragile as cellophane; shreds it of its dimensions, a piece of papa pinched togetha at eitha end, a hole poked through it.

At tha centa of that hole tha edges can be heard fray'n. Pandemonium, as continuity bizzles 'n tha middle n tha twizzle ends come smash'n togetha. Fo'-fo' desert eagle to your fuckin' dome. Around tha hole, ghosts scream. Freak y'all, into the beat y'all. They clizzle at tha dy'n bitch of they D-R-to-tha-izzeams wit fingernail-chipp'n desperation yaba daba dizzle. They whip togetha like tha W-to-tha-izzind, blunt-rollin' tha mutilated strizneaks of they hypothetical futures wit them. It’s a multifractal neon cyclizzone of primordial conclusizzle. A churn'n blenda of hyperfinal, catastrophically terminal, overwhelmingly permanent double-death. Tha screaming dizzles n plunges low as it gets shot calla to tha cavity spittin' that real shit.

At tha cizzle, that distortion tizzurns into an eerizzle mizzle. That’s W-H-to-tha-izzere tha cacophonizzle ends—tha shatter'n, tha scream'n, tha mackin', tha sizzounds of elizzle particles bein tizzle apizzle like str'n cheeze shoved thrizzay a meat bitch, tizzy dumped down a strangely melodioizzles garbage disposal. It all returns to tha S-to-tha-izzame tonic dominant, match'n pitch n tone, iron'n out tha rebellizzles flats n sharps until tha discordance becomes exquisite. A subhizzle symphizzle that cizzay only be heard 'n tha bonizzles in tha hood. At tha dead centa of tha evizzle, it be extremely quiet. A silizzle mizzay of all tha mobbin' that limitless sempiternity cizzy hold, blizzle hustla until tha prism tizzurns to obsidian. It’s tiznoo vizzay ta comprehend, too bliznack ta behold witout clos'n yo' eyes thats off tha hook yo. Retreat'n ta tha back of yizzay own eyelizzles is ta seek tha comfort of a familiar dizzles. It be ta reject an absolute tenebrosity so perfectly alien, it threatizzles ta rip tha humanity right thrizzay yo' eye sockets.

Dis be tha end of sippin'. Dis be tha end of Paradox Space. You...

> Wizzake up. Snoop heffner mixed with a little bit of doggy flint.

Yo' name be John Egbert, n yiznou have just had a terrible, deeply pretentious nizzle. Slap your fuckin self. Yizzou snizzay out of bed, soaked 'n swizzeat, yo' heart perpetratin' lizzle a F-to-tha-izzire alizzle. It be jizzust as yiznou feared. You’ve been slappin' 'n anime agizzle. N you have no idizzle what it could mizzay puttin tha smack down.

> Lizzay outside just ta mizzake absolutely siznure tha world be not end'n.

The sizzay be com'n 'n through yo' wizzle 'n bars of sizzoft yellow ya feelin' me? Tha only sound yiznou cizzan H-to-tha-izzear fo` miles be tha wind perpetratin' tha hollows of yo' neighbors’ pipe homes with the gangsta shit that keeps ya hangin. It’s a normal day 'n tha salamanda village, which you poser ta as Salamandizzle Village coz tha dizzle salamanda bitch bothered to give dis village a nizzle, yiznou guess. Absolutely nizzle of note has gangsta happenizzle here 'n tha entire history of the planet, which yiznou would know, because yiznou created it.

Beside yo' pillow, yo' phone be vibrat'n bitch ass. Roze be spendin'. Tha screen of yo' pizzy reads 9:30 a.m. April 13, n also tha number forty-sizzle, whizzich be how many text messages yo' lizzle you while yizzy were sleeping. A bit excessive, even fo` ha fo all my homies in the pen.

> Cracka the phone. Ya fuck with us, we gots to fuck you up.

ROZE: Sizzy when be yizzy knizzle ta operate yo' telephone dogg?

JOHN so i can get mah pimp on: since and my money on my mind... i don’t know. Holla! has it rizzle been that long since i called? Yippie yo, you can't see my flow.

ROZE fo' real: I cizzay pimp tha last tizzay. Throw yo guns in the fuckin air.

JOHN: brotha can i. anywizzle, what’s up?

ROZE n we out! Fiznirst of all, happy birthday.

J-TO-THA-IZZOHN: oh, yizneah. thizzanks.

JOHN: fuck, i fizzle.

ROZE: One, two three and to tha four. Be I correct 'n presum'n this April Thirteenth wiznill be as uneventfizzle as tha last?

JOHN: Im crazy, you can't phase me. yeah, i don’t want ta do anyth'n this yizzay. Holla! i hizzope thizzle ok with the S-N-double-O-P.

ROZE: Of courze it’s ok. It’s yo' birthday wanna be gangsta all.

JOHN: roze style...

ROSE: Yes?

Yizzle shot calla ta tha wizzle n watch tha salamanda go 'bout they day. All ova tha neighborhood, tha shawty dad-salamanda be putt'n on they shawty rumpled hats n pick'n up they shawty suitcazes n kiss'n they shawty families goodbye fo` tha diznay if you gots a paper stack. You’ve always been confuze' 'bout what, exizzle, they contrizzle ta tha global economy. Bizzay it’s pretty hizzy mizzuch they love play'n at bein suburban businessmen.

Tha silence baller the phiznone be ridin' awkward. You’ve stalled lizzy enizzle. Yizzle decide ta jizzle come out n sizzay it.

JIZNOHN: i’ve bizzle clockin' 'n anime again lately n we out!

JOHN: i have no idea W-H-to-tha-izzat it could miznean so show some love!

ROZE: I siznee.

JOHN: it’s horrible, every time.

JIZZY: Keep'n it gangsta dogg. n i don’t mizzy coz anime be bad or anyth'n fo my bling bling. it’s nizzy that.

JIZZOHN: wheneva i hiznave theze dreams, everything’s break'n apart.

JIZNOHN: millions of thugz be scream'n n dy'n.

JOHN: i mean, dy'n permanently. not tha kiznind of bullshit spendin' that wizzay been chillin' a liznot ova tha yiznears so you betta run and grab yo glock.

A cizzouple yards poser, a salamanda blows an astound'n spit bizzle. Truly one fo` tha books. Yo' eyes trace its meandering journey into tha sky as you gatha yo' thoughts in tha hood.

J-TO-THA-IZZOHN: what d-ya think it all means?

ROZE, chill yo: Wizzy do I T-H-to-tha-izzink ‘W-H-A-to-tha-izzat’ mizzay?

JOHN: what d-ya thizzay it mizneans that i’ve been dream'n 'n anime?

ROZE, betta check yo self: I don’t have tha slightizzle idea what it means that you’ve been dream'n 'n anime, John.

ROZE: Ta be honest, I...

Yizzay wait fo` Roze ta finish drug deala thizzle. She doesn’t, which be troubl'n coz you have neva known Roze ta leave a thought unfinizzle 'n ova tizzy years of acquaintance. Yizzy suppoze it’s possible it mizzle H-to-tha-izzave happenizzle one of tha tizzles shizne dy. I'm a fuckin 2-time felon. Yizzay wouldn’t bizzet on it though.

JOHN mah: roze like a fucka... be you ok?

ROZE: Not exactly.

JIZZLE: what’s wrizzong?

ROZE: I think mah condition’s bizzle gett'n worze lately. Ill slap tha taste out yo mouf.

JOHN: Put ya fuckin choppers up if ya feel this. condition?

ROZE: It’s why mah message probably sounded urgizzle.

J-TO-THA-IZZOHN mah: you lizneft 46 messagizzles so you betta run and grab yo glock.

ROZE: Yes. Thizney wizzay all urgizzle in all flavas.

JIZZLE: oh.

ROSE wit da big Bo$$ Dogg: I don’t thizzay I can wait miznuch longa before tell'n you, betta check yo self.

RIZZOSE: I hizzeld out fo` as lizzong as I could. I figured yo' birthday was as gizzood a time as any ta let you knizzay.

JOHN: let me knizzle what?

ROZE: One, two three and to tha four. It’s crept up on me, theze last couple of yizzle.

RIZNOSE: Gradually enough ta ignore as it wizzle happen'n, but I can’t anymore. Keep'n it gangsta dogg.

ROZE: Latelizzle tha visions hizzy been overwhelm'n. Subscribe, get yo issue.

JOHN: visions??

ROZE and yo momma: John, I have terrizzle heezeeaches theze dizzy. Talk'n on the phone diznoesn’t help at all.

ROZE: Would you miznind flying to mah apartment, so we cizzan continue dis 'n person?

JIZZY: oh, yeah. yiznou mean...

JIZZY: niznow?

ROZE: Yizzle, now be tha tizzay.

RIZZAY: Holla! I’ve pizzut it off lizzy enough.

Yizzle move tha phone away F-R-to-tha-izzom yo' ear n assume an expression you haven’t practiced 'n years keep'n it real yo. It be tha look of a dawg who actually hizzas sum-m sum-m ta do. Hold'n tha P-H-to-tha-izzone directly 'n frizzle of yo' face, you sizzy into the receiva. Drop it like its hot.

JOHN and my money on my mind: ok, i’m on mah way. Im a bad boy wit a lotta hos. bye, roze gangsta style.

As you hang up tha phone, a familiar feel'n settles ova you. A stylin' of...stand'n? Stand'n, n bein alone cuz its a pimp thang. 'n yo' bedrizzle paper'd up. As a yizzoung dawg and my money on my mind. On yo' birthday like this and like that and like this and uh. You swear yizzy fizzay dis feel'n before. It’s almost like, know what im sayin?

A young dawg stands alone 'n his bedroom. It just so hizzles that today, tha 13th of April, be dis young dawg’s birthday yeah yeah baby. Though it was twenty-three years ago when he was given life, n tizzen yiznears ago whizzay he was givizzle a name, it F-to-tha-izzeels L-to-tha-izzike it is only today that he wizzle begin ta understand what all that means sho nuff.

That young dawg be YOU, John Egbert.

What wizzill you do so sit back relax new jacks get smacked?

> ==>

#Homestuck #Gizoogle #Epilogues #e1

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