#HI this the second comic i was talkin bout :)

[todayisafridaynight]

family outing

[jaxxsoxxn]

(It's from Flash (2016) i think :'D i read so many diff comics lately that i am as confused as any of yall)

so, yeah, anyway, Hal x Boomer x Barry in the Vampire AU bc I genuinely enjoy BarHal n Boomerflash n the idea of Hal absolutely jumping from hate to love bout Boomer;

Hal changes Barry into the vampire, goes "lets rule the world together" - Flash uses his love against him n goes "come with me for help, there's still hope for u" and Hal goes ",,,ok <3" - that's how they get to Digger.

Hal's way more mischievous out of the two, so any time they chill and/or cuddle, poor Boomer ends up bitten - not even for food!

Talkin' bout food! Flasher's metabolism is still crazy, so this man FEASTS, at the end of the feeding session with him, Digger doesn't even have enough blood to blush.

At first, Hal was like "Bar's obsession with this Rouge will pass soon" just for it to end up "I need to grab a cranberry juice for my fave little meal <3"

The first few weeks, when they get Boomer assign, both Hal n Barry are so starved that our poor Cap is stuck on a couch/in bed while they keep close to him. Flag and few others, like Harley. Deadshot does not get anywhere near them, claiming that Boomer's room is their cage.

Hal uses his ring in the worst ways usually, but the second he smells Boomer's blood mid-mission while knowing Flash couldn't be the one to pour it, he's immediately keeping him safe - which annoys him bc "I ain't weak, let me fight!"

He does not.

some sketches bc I am still trying to understand Hal's hair (ALSO WHITE STREAKS RAHHHH!!)

[enjomo-arch]

(  flame  command  ━  unprompted  :  uta )   //    [  ♠ @melodysian  ]

"hey ace! look at this!" that's all the warning he gets before uta shoves a hercules beetle right into his face. it's big enough that she has to hold it with hands but that's only one more reason to be proud of her catch. "let's catch another one and have a beetle fight!"

a  quick  snap  of  his  head  at  the  melodious  voice  carrying  his  name  with  it.  a  warning,  prompting  the  fire  fist's  instincts  to  skyrocket  within  a  second.  sharp  like  a  blade  cutting  through  her  words  his  jaw  lifted  a  little  higher,  allowing  the  hat  to  slide  down  a  little  over  the  thick  black  hair  on  the  back  of  his  head.  he  was  having  a  small  nap  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  big  trees  outside.  but  now  it  didn't  mean  as  much  to  him  as  what  uta  practically  shoved  into  his  face.  

it  was  a  beetle,  a  really  damn  big  one  when  ace  caught  it  in  his  own  wide  palms,  the  bug  occupying  practically  one  of  his  palms  and  the  half  of  the  other.  it  was  truly  gigantic,  bigger  than  any  he  had  seen  before.  i  don't  think  even  luffy  had  ever  been  able  to  boast  a  prey  like  this  one.  hazel  orbs  wide  like  two  plates  marveled  the  sight  painting  before  his  eyes.  he  was  absolutely  getting  excited  at  the  little  (  not  really  )  guy  that  uta  managed  to  get  considering  the  big,  toothy  grin  blooming  over  his  freckled  features.

❝  holy  shit  uta  !  it's  ...  ❞  before  ace  could  offer  her  any  praise,  however,  came  what  he  could  expect  from  her  lips  other  than  the  melodic  tone  of  her  songs,  a  challenge  obvious  and  bright  like  the  sun  on  a  blue  sky.  his  eyes  narrowed,  and  the  excitement  washed  off  to  be  replaced  with  one  of  his  more  snarky  lopsided  smiles.  

❝  eh  ?  what  are  you  talkin'  'bout  ?  all  i  hear  is  the  cry  of  defeat  when  i  find  a  beetle  twice  your  size  and  crush  you  like  a  nut  ❞  a  small  snicker  of  obvious  victory  and  pride  in  the  tone,  he  got  up  from  his  seat,  fixing  the  hat  with  a  free  hand  before  returning  the  worm  to  her  hands.  ❝  give  me  fifteen  minutes  and  y'can  say  goodbye  to  winnin',  nerd.  ❞  he  leaned  down  to  match  her  height,  so  comically  as  his  finger  flicked  her  exposed  forehead.  

[muffindaddystyles]

DENTIST THE BAD BOI

Word count: 7k

A/N: Heavily inspired from 90's rom-coms, so if your heart swoons out of loneliness it's not on me sistas -- doctor Harry my fav.

Summary: Harry's a med-student and Y/N's an art student, being neighbours with Y/N was already a living hell for Harry but when she fusses over his cat getting her cat pregnant -- he mighty looses it.

Pairing: Dentist Harry × Artist reader, Frenemies to bestfriends to lovers, platonic affection and loads of bestie fluff.

MASTERLIST, REQUEST FOR BLURBS FROM THIS FIC ARE OPEN || PART 2

“Harryyyyy!!!!” Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs staring at the small picture of ultrasound, blinking at it several times to vision herself back into reality because the more she does the more she becomes grumpy and fussy – cursing the beast of a neighbour who got her little innocent cat pregnant.

She pulled the strings of her pyjama shorts to tighten it around her and hastily towed her feet into fuzzy slippers, giving a stink of an eye to her cat “don't act so surprised you little ragamuffin!” She mouthed at her with venom (as if trippers her cat cares), stomping her way out and writes a whole book of judgements in her rattling brain upon hearing the loud music weeping through walls.

She knocks. Huffs when it goes unnoticed and this time pounds at the door, crossing her forearms infront of her chest. Not unaware and very accustomed; of happy chatter whirling around whenever she’s trying to focus how a certain recipe goes by, his mates chanting his name from outside when he’s too occupied in whatever he's sorting out inside for their arrival, clanking of beer bottles knowing they and her have a long time to go, the music dimming in the wee of night as the door closes after every fifteen minutes and it dawns at that time –-- she always get left with one option and that’s to curse him till she sleeps.

It’s every Friday and Saturday’s story.

“Max stop that before Ni asks fo’ a dummy —-,” His neck's craned to where his friends are sitting on one of the cosy spots. His jaw popping, dimples chasmic from the smirk he’s holding and Y/N gulps then arches her brow when his attention drops down at her, “Oh .... hi, could help ya?” His cocky grin irks her – bubbling a fire in her pit and an urge to twinge his ear and drag him to her apartment, to show him what he did.

“Could you help me!?” She laughs ironically, chases her frowning gaze from the ripped patches of his jeans towards where his curls are brushing his earlobes and it kind of makes her gasp which she traps in fortunately because – he’s always wearing a hoodie, beanie or his hair up in a little fountain like bun rushing through the lobby with his thick books and laptop clutched in his arms, “Yes please .. y’could help me by transferring expenses of your cat's babies every month to me —-...um could simply have them in your apartment too if the first deal’s too bad.” She shrugs. Taking a glimpse from his shoulder of his friends bunched over eachother and he toys with his bottom wet lip, brows stringing into confusion and his bicep flexes making her flutter her eyes away as he grips the knob of the door and closes it behind him.

“What d'ya mean?”

“You’re doing it on purpose right? ‘cos there’s no way —--” He cuts her groans with a snap and runs a palm down his face, “I seriously don’t know what you’re talkin' ‘bout, Y/N.” His lips tinned into a flat line, his posture now resembling her's and she slaps her forehead with the heel of her palm.

“Then you should keep tabs of your beasty minx of a cat who got my cat pregnant!” She exclaims disbelievingly to which his eyes turns saucer and he throws his sinewy arms in between them, mimics her expressions comically, “Is that my fault? Did I get your cat prego?” She blinks up at him rapidly --- he’s such a nerve puller.

“Yes it is! You didn’t get your cat desexed —-,” She stuffs her pointer against his chest and twist it with a grit, “Now he’ll have babies left and right – like a catwhore he is!!” She aerials her hands in different directions rapidly and he takes a step closer kissing his teeth together to seethe his words.

“He’s not a catwhore!”

“Kay then take the responsibility of what he did.” She mutters tapping her foot onto the carpeted floor and guppies at him like a fish when he bursts into taunting cackles, leaning to catch the door-frame before he mushes her under his weight. ”

“Ye -‐..- you’re —- you aren’t serious are ya?” His rosy eyelids snib tightly forming crinkles to where his temples meet his cheeks and she almost pouts, how much she doesn’t want to she could never cascade her expressions.

“Oh my — .... Bambi eyed wouldn’t I’ave had free him of his ball’s heaviness –-- if I’d ‘ave enough money down me pocket?” He scrunches his nose to take a breather from laughing hard.

“Don’t call me that!” She bites at him.

“You’re cute when you’re angry.” He smirks gingerly – drums his fingers against his folded bicep and presses his back to the wall tipping his chin high.

Her blush eager to creep up her neck embarrasses her further more and she hides the softness in her voice, muttering gruffly, “Shut up.” Then turns to walk back into her apartment and to slam the door at his face -- but -- his whistle for her halts her in tracks.

“Hey – Bambi, we could sign the custody of kitties if that what ye'want.”

..

Three weeks after. There was another knock on Harry’s door, Niall's head perks up and bangs against the bookshelf –- he was trying to keep the furry cat in his lap, for a good warmer but its more enamoured with the ‘clucks' of his daddy’s boots than the soft flesh of Niall’s thigh as Harry chucks his wallet in the back-pocket of his jeans (he was about to go outside and bring some food) and opens the door slightly to see through the trapping chain, “who’s it?”

“Harry ‘s me ....” The voice mousey and worried. Niall recognizes it in a hot-second, frowns and tries to gain snowy’s attention, “What did y'do again? Did ya get the pretty neighbour's cat prego twice, you fat farts.” He chuckles when snowy meows at him innocently and Harry's brows skews together into a scowl.

“Call him fat farts another time —- I dare you —--,” He howls. Throwing angry upset glares towards Niall – their bickering gets interrupted when Y/N slips her hand from the crack of door, pinches Harry’s knuckles and he squeaks, “Ow —- what the fuck!”

“Harry.” Her tone threatening.

Harry puffs out a huge sigh and reveals himself infront of her, he's not in mood to fight with her over their cats, or the parcel Harry forgot to give her which got delivered to him on accident like one of the thousand times (he never found anything freakish until now .. not that he goes through what’s inside, but the labels tell they’re mostly her art supplies), or why he’s been showering for an hour because she now isn’t left with any warm water —- because he just came back from UNI and is dust bones from having two exams in a row.

“Y/N —-,” His face reeks with exhaustion. His curls drowsy, escaping from his knit beanie and his eyes glazed with sea-foam. She kinda feels bad for disturbing him -- but – it’s an emergency and she doesn’t know where to go, except him.

His weary vision falls upon trippers tucked beneath Y/N’s arm, “Is she alright?” He scratches behind her ear and trippers gives out a pained yowl.

“No –-.. that’s why ‘m here. She’s spotting blood everywhere and –-- and I don’t have enough money ...,” She’s embarrassed to say least. Not meeting Harry’s eyes and he gazes her sincerely –- belly doing weirdly funny somersaults. He clears his throat, grogs out gathering all the information in his head from the anatomy of humans and animals he studied till now.

“It’s okay for spotting in pregnancies – but ‐-.. she looks very much in pain s' we shouldn’t risk it. I’ve a friend. She’s practicing vet -- we could take her there.” He offers. Rubbing the back of his neck and Y/N bobs her head vigorously, anything to save her trippers baby.

“Fine –-- yeah, Iemme just wear my shoes ... then we're good to go.” She mumbles. Harry hasn’t seen her demeanour flatter like this ever before, whenever she’s banging and barging through his flat it’s always taut and cold banter.

He has never seen her this defenceless.

He drops his gaze down at her feet and finds that she’s wearing cute pizza slices socksies.

..

“Is this a clinic, or weed doing zone for animals?” She didn’t try to be mean. It just happened as she takes in the wearbouts of garage, stuffed with drums and musical instruments, spray paint on walls. Harry seems unfazed though, he could be shabbier than her if he wants to –- much fouler that could make her cry.

“Told you. She’s practicing not a vet yet.” She doesn’t question him further. Grateful enough for his help. She might not admit but he isn’t that bad of guy as she once imagined him in her head.

Y/N stifles a snort when a girl with mullet shag, having a stud in her brow and the corner of her lip, attired in all black greets Harry with a hip-check, “Vas’up booger.” She grins and Harry grumbles ruffling her hair with his knuckles.

It leaves Y/N in awe. This’s what group of friends look like -- so fun and annoying, she wanted to have this since when she’s small. Sadly, it’s just her and trippers in her friend group.

“Hi there!” She waves to Y/N trying to battle Harry’s tickles away. Takes trippers from Y/N's arms and coos up at her, “hiyaa baby .. oh, she’s having lil buns inside her.” She laughs and Y/N already likes her so much. As if, she’s the main character of any vintage styled movie.

“Rori here.” She introduces herself as Harry strolls inside her kitchen to rummage through her fridge, “Y/N.” Y/N smiles –-- eyeing Harry who’s whistling and tearing the crate of orange juice open.

When Trippers purrs from a cramp, Rori snuggles her closer to herself – “Her spotting is nothing to worry about –-- maybe she’s ready to give birth. If not I’ll take her to my hospital.”

“So Harry said...” Y/N nods.

“Oohh.” Rori exclaims, wiggling her brows curiously at Harry who’s gulping down juice hungrily, “Booger got normal friends too? Thought, those were all white lies.” He almost chokes at it – downing it cautiously and blinks vividly.

“No. Just neighbours.” Yeah, there’s nothing friendly between them –-- but how it’d be like to befriend Harry. The thought makes Y/N feel snoozy and warm.

“I see.”

“Okay then! ‘m gonna keep Trippers with me for two days –-- figure out what I could do to help her and if she heals I’ll drop her by, how that sounds?”

“Sounds good!” Both, Harry and Y/N chimes together heating their cheeks up. Harry wavers his gaze away, sulking a pouty mouth and turns all stoic again.

He doesn’t want to like, Y/N. Nope. Not at all. In any case.

She’s his bedevilling, bothersome and galling neighbour who just screams at him too much for his likening.

..

“Would you like something to eat?” She asks him while walking back home and he shakes his head, so she nudges him in ribs, “oh c'mon let it be a thank you, grumpy pants.”

“’M not –-,” He was about to snap at her. Instead, he groped her wrist tightly and tugged her to his side –-- she squeals into his chest as a car passes by them swiftly, honking at them in anger.

Her hair wisps from the friction of Harry’s hoodie as she pushes herself away from him, surprisingly he smells incredibly sweet – that of vanilla and citrus musk, something very cosy and like a morning breeze.

A jolt buzzes through her spine at the fact she was about to get crushed under a vehicle but she grins up at him awkwardly, “Tofu then?” His peepers widen in shock and he slaps his forehead.

“You’re mad, know that.”

..

Harry and Y/N. Sky and earth . She sprouts buds of irises and peonies when she speaks, her touch that shines away even an intimidating person as if they're mimosa plants, those eyes --- those eyes are itself sepia of grounds on which the tiny creatures celebrates by and Harry's well ... he’s the floss of clouds hidden behind sunshine, his rains would turn her into loam and his uppish thunder would make her loathe him.

Then some gods decided to break the needles and fix it in some other clock that rotates anti-clock wise.

Now, when she’s unable to nourish her flowers he's always there to rain and stroke a tender breeze against her that makes her lush grass snuggle the roots of who she’s.

They were enemies once. Opposite to eachother in many ways but couldn’t live without eachother despite of their distances. Just like sky's a hollow sheet of nothingness without it’s dear earth.

..

What blossomed their friendship was Y/N's date with this cute boy that is in her ceramic class, (not a date if you’d ask so –-- more like a meetup at this coffee house near her UNI).

Turns out he isn’t that cute. His blunt hands wandered up Y/N’s thigh without her consent and before she could know that, he was groping at it –-- making her gasp and hit her knee against the table. She struggles to writhe out of the chair but he stitches his nails in her skin, “I’m not liking it – you better stop.” She hisses, palms sweaty and slipping trying to remove his grip from around her.

“Don’t act all stupid .. you were hitting at me for hours, you want it but wouldn’t admit.” He groans, rolling his eyes and she feels like crying –-- teeth clanking letting out a shuddering breath.

“I’ll scream.” She warns him.

“You’re not that innocent, you act like.” He smirks, sliding his hand down her insides and before he could reach further Y/N sneaked a fork from the table and stabbed it in his knuckles.

“Fuck.” He shrieks, “Bitch.” He almost screams but stops when everyone stares at him as Y/N’s chair fell against the floor and she stumbles inside the bathroom.

Locking it behind her. Her chest burns with tears. Her vision spins and her fingers shakes as she dials one number she could reach for anytime, it rings then goes to voicemail so her bitten lip wobbles and eyes turn glossy.

She again dials it. There’re noises behind, that of someone instructing and Harry was in his lecture hall when she called .. his heart drops because all he could hear is quivering breath ... it shudders to tight painful gasps and he’s collecting his stuff leaving his seat immediately the doctor who's teaching them Apiceoctomy stares Harry while speaking.

Once he’s out in hallway, “Hey? Y/n are y’there? You okay? What happened?” She bolt her eyes close pressing her head to cold tiled wall and yawps outta fear when someone pounds at the door. Harry runs towards the exist, “Y/N where are you!? ‘m coming .. whatever it’s just --.. just ...” He gripes at his curls pushing them back – his heart beating loud, “ – just stay where you’re ‘n don’t panic .. yeah? It’s okay.” He mutters. Voice soft and assuring.

Her breathing patterns back to calmness – something about him so consoling, so warm and she nods. After some minutes she’s telling him the address and gladly it’s not that far away from Harry.

When he reaches. There are several people waiting at the bathrooms door and he’s knocking on it lightly, pressing his ear to it and grabs the knob (in case he’d have to break it).

When there’s no-response from inside he gets it something’s peculiar, “Bambi. ‘s me Harry.” It clicks and unlocks and he’s tumbling inside while the others groans and disperses knowing it’s invain waiting.

He’s dishevelled. His curls in moppy condition and his eyes full of concern and worry –-- she feels awful for doing this to him.

“Were you crying? Did somethin' happen?” He frowns. Ducking a bit to meet her gaze level and she clears the clump in her throat, “Can we just leave .. please?” He couldn’t believe it’s her voice – the bubbliness and chirpiness of it died to frightened meekness.

Harry takes her hand and walks them outside, Y/N sucks in squeak when the same guy rushes to confront them and when Harry sees his injured hand -- everything pieces together and fury spikes through his veins.

His brows pinches together into a frown, his lips lifting into a scowl and his eyes darkens pitch coal like.

He grips her dainty fingers and moves her behind him protectively and his chest buffs out as he takes a step forward towering the guy – “What d'ya want?” He kisses his teeth together to grit vehemence and that guy lift his trembling hand infront of Harry.

“Look what this bitch —-,” Ah –-- he really pushed Harry’s bad button didn’t he?

Harry grabs him from collar and Y/N squeals rubbing his wrist to pull him back, no-use.

“Badmouth her or anyone —-" Harry sneers and if he'd be a cartoon character – fume would have been coming out of his ears and nose.

“Else what!?” Harry’s more of a practical person -- so he did what he's been learning for years now and breaks his nose with such force it almost knocks him out.

Y/N's still in shock. Walking behind him on jelly toes and a shiver spirals in her bone marrow when her sweat dries from the wind that’s blowing and hitting them in faces.

They wait at bus shelter, sitting side by side –-- thighs brushing now and then flustering Y/N, Moreso when he apologizes everytime.

There’s silence. Harry’s irritated groan breaks it –- he clenches and unclenches his knuckles .. the thin skin a bit bruised.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry –-- .. ‘s my fault.” She rambles. Taking his hand to inspect it, “I shouldn’t have called you at ---..” He frowns confused and pokes her in knee conveying her to stop worrying. Because if anyone needs to be taken care of is her and wish he could just hug her and tell her that it’s not her fault – not even a tad.

“Y/n...” He gains her attention and his gaze flickers from her snotty nose towards her soaky cheeks, “Shut up.” She chuckles at that putting his palm gently back on his thigh.

“Would you like to have, noodles? I know this incredible chinese place ...” He shakes his head. His smile small and kooky, nose scrunched up as he sniffs the air – predicting a rain coming soon.

“D'we have to eat after every tragedy that happens t’you?”

“Yup, tragedies makes me hungry.” It’s her coping mechanism if she'll be honest and that’s what she’s been doing for ages.

“Who are you, Y/N?

She jumps up. Wiggling her fingers for him to take and beams sweetly, “Bambi next door?”

..

“From when did ya become s' rich?” He giggles. He finds her fucking adorable as she drags him along herself excitedly – she halts infront of the expensive restaurant –- where people dressed in all kind of luxuries and bright pearls are dinning in and she arches her brow sceptically, “Did you really think –- I’ll be able to take us here?” He shoves his hands in his jeans pocket, elevates his shoulders and smiles bashfully.

“Maybe one day, who knows?” They walk towards the chinese take out and Y/N trots backwards –-- facing him all while and rolls her eyes, “’M an artist whose half of paintings goes to trash.” Harry’s eyeballs springs out of his sockets hearing her statement and he really wants to knock some senses into this silly girl.

“Oh my --.. jeez .. those paintings are ‘s good y'divvy. They're hanging onto my walls, been enjoying them fo' free —- what the actual fuck .. really your hands are magical.” He feels annoyed and sad that she felt a need to dump them, because those were some beautiful art pieces.

(“Hmm. It has some hidden meaning beneath it, H. I’m tellin' ya.” Ni would always say. Standing infront of it for hours and hours staring at it.

“Looks like a pussy to me.” Max would quip sipping his bevy and Harry would smack him in head, “Guys how ‘bout we just see it like a fuckin' painting.” He'd grumble focusing back on his books.)

“Really?” She asks shyly and he bobs his head, “Guess you could just keep them then ...” She grins up at him taking the boxes from the cashier.

“Where are we going?”

“You’d see yourself.” She sing-songs galloping over the muddy potholes and Harry looks funny doing it with his spider long legs. Their footsteps echoes in the empty warehouse and Harry didn’t expect her to be the person – that loves finding weird places and spend time there.

“Careful there.” He murmurs. Pressing a hand to her waist when she wobbles on her feet climbing the metal stairs and Harry thinks if she was this clumsy all along or it’s from what happened at the coffee house.

“Holy shit!” He cups a hand around his mouth as the traffic bustles down on the street, “You afraid of heights?” She glances back at him from where she’s standing on the cemented edge.

“Matters. If we're about to act silly and jump, then yes.”

Warmth worms up at his chest and his adam apple bobs, he barks out a laugh when she giggles demanding him to come closer to her, “Come here then you dentist the bad boi.” He tugs the fabric of his jeans from his crotch and hikes his one knee up sitting beside her, other leg swinging in air.

He listens to her hums and happy sounds as she slurps the long noodle inside her mouth, “What you’re afraid of then Harry?” Her question catches him off-guard. Nobody has ever asked what his fears are and he might be famous for an intimidating personality just because he speaks less and owns a roaring bullet –-- he’s still very nice to talk to, but he'd rather spend his time with snowy than waste his time on orgy parties.

“Snowy’s funky farts -- they're ‘orrible!! have to leave the flat fo’ a minute.” He grins when Y/N’s head lulls back and she laughs gleefully, rolling into his side to support herself, “Oh no!” She whines when her chopsticks falls and drops onto the road poorly.

“We can share mine.” He hands her his chopsticks and she thanks him timidly, “What d'you fear?” They pass it back and forth –- his lips wrapping around them as he takes a chunky bite.

Harry tries to down the food that got stuck in his throat when she said nonchalantly, “Dying alone I guess?” He chews the veggies, grimaces and shakes his head -- puts his hand over her knee squeezing it kind-heartedly.

“You’ll not.” She feels like every tulip of light around her’s sparkling – the buzz of having his company tingling her in good way, “Promise?” She asks and Harry lifts his pinky in between them encouraging her to bring her's.

She wasn’t serious about the promise thing it was more onto sarcastic side than to sincerity.

“Promise.” His dimples caters deep and his eyes crinkles when different golden lights dances against her skin making her look prettier than she’s.

He’s gonna fulfill his promise.

..

Y/N could be sentimental given on occasions and how bad the situation’s – but she bottles it up for good amount until later, it all crushes her completely and she’s unable to stand back.

Now, when there’s eerie quietness in the bus and the world infront of her fades behind in weird shapes and forms in her head because of the speed of vehicle – her mind thought it’d be best time to remorse over what happened to her and her eyes well up at that.

Harry plucks his headphones down upon hearing her soft sniffles and turns her towards him with her shoulder, “Y/N hey ....” His voice tender and dewy as he slides his palm under her jaw and cups her cheek to wipe out her tears with the mild stroke of his thumb.

His gentleness rakes out an agonising sob from inside her and she feels like her organs are clashing together.

“Shh. Bambi you’re okay now, ‘s alright you’re here with me -- shh, ‘m so sorry love —- but it’s over now, yeah? We're going home and I’ll make you chamomile tea, could ‘ve both snowy and trippers cuddle with you while I’ll get you all warm and nice inside this new fluffy blanket I just bought! – how does that sound?” He pets her hair. Brings her closer to his chest and she keeps her nose tucked against his clavicles to stop from crying and make a show.

When she nods, suckling a wet breath he swipes a loose errand of her hair behind, “Sounds good yeah?” She just hums snuggling into him.

Her arms slowly loops around his love-handles and he stows her head under his chin -- rubs her back in circles to soothe the stiff muscles, covers her ears with the headphones he was wearing before – plays acoustic version of Landslide by Fleetwood Mac and simpers when she hiccups his name, but doesn’t respond when he answers – his ears turns pink from fond and his belly overglows with butterflies as she babbles his name till she drops into peaceful sleep.

Y/N found herself in his bed with snowy and trippers ontop of her and Harry snoring on the couch – his gangly limbs not fitting at all.

She really wanted to call him and sleep on his bed, but she drowses back to slumber.

..

“Grumpy jerk and an actual ray of sunshine. Sorry, couldn’t process it – too much.” Rori teased Harry the last time they gathered and Y/N was there too! though the true statement was claimed after her departure.

Harry’s friends couldn’t believe that he stepped out of his comfort zone and made a new cute friend, now after one year of their friendship it doesn’t feel like they’re neighbours anymore –-- it's just one big home with an alleyway in between.

“What're y'doin', moppet?” Harry chuckles picking up the half eaten packet of crisps, chewy sour candies, wrappers of oreos and the romcom CDs they were playing before.

Y/N's sprawled on her tummy. Feetsie in air and her chin secured in her palm as she looks like she’s seriously about to take an admission in med school –-- she’s concentrating real hard on the thick book under her, eyes fixated on the diagrams of teeth – it makes Harry laugh like a maniac.

“Aish. Your books, gives me an ache.” She massages her forehead, shakes her head as if she tasted something icky and pushes his book away. Harry laughs harder at her antics wrappers flying away from his grasp and he flops onto couch –-- thighs spreading wide and back sinking into the cushions.

“Where?” His lips rumbles as he tries to hold back another fits of laughter when she gets his dirty joke and pouts, lips fluttering into a smile until she bursts into giggles joining him.

“Nope. My cookie doesn’t throb like it used to sneaking on reproduction chapters in biology.” Harry roars out a cackle at that and Y/N grins fiddling with the frizz of her socks, “Heyyyy it’s not funny –- very much sad.”

He suckles a breath in, their grins achy and big, “Stuff your cookie with some jam ‘n you'll be alright.”

“You’re gross!” She fake gags. Hunches over to exaggerate the severity and scares the shit out of Harry when she gasps loudly slapping his knee, “Harry! Harry! Oh my gosh.....ahhhh!” She gallops like a bunny towards the window and gazes up at the sky with glinting eyes, “Harry look! It’s snowing.” He trots behind her with a roll of eyes knowing what’s about to come next.

When she turns around with sparkly grin, hands clasped atop her chest and tippy-toes to beg him, Harry shuts his lids, “No Muffy.” Y/N loves eating chocolate muffins –-- eating them whenever she could possibly ... and that’s how the pet name Harry decided to call her was muffy.

“Please, it would be so fun .. we could have hot chocolate afterwards.” She mumbles tugging at the hem of his chunky yarn sweater.

“Nothing’s fun about snow angles, Muffyyyy!!” He whines. Squinting down at her with one eye and finds her all slumpy, head falling downwards.

“Okie then. ‘m going to sleep.” She mutters in a meek voice pushing past him –-- but he wraps his hand around her wrist and pulls her back to himself, chuckling with wide eyes, “You’re very dramatic and annoyin’ y’know that?”

Instead, she grins bobbing her head shamelessly, pats his chest and dashes to wear his warm jacket, “Biscuits on you -- hot chocolate on me.” She tells him slipping into her shoes with the support of doorframe.

He comes closer to her and her heart thuds into her tiny ribs as he zips his jacket she’s wearing up till her neck and warns her while pulling out her hair, “If I get sick – ‘m gettin'y sick too.”

..

Harry’s waiting outside the candy shop Y/N just barged in moments ago. He refused to step inside – knowing she’ll use him as a taste tester and at the end of the day his tongue would have a mountain sugar atop his taste buds.

The spring breeze flowery and warm. He shakes his head, smiles softly watching her switch aisles and guffaws loudly catching attention of an old couple siting on the bench behind -- at her eagerness when she started chomping onto the long chewy candy right after getting it from the cashier.

“That’s g'na rot your teeth even before your forties.” He tells her taking the small bag from her and walks beside her, “Your kids are gonna hate you ...” She tells him –- stretching out the candy with her teeth.

“You sure, y'were allowed colas and candies in childhood?” He teases her prodding her side so she throws it at his chest making him laugh and he bends down to pick it up and dump it in bin.

“You’ve got a cute bum.” She whistles and Harry’s cheeks bashes with blush – turns around and wiggles herself, “How's mine?” She hums glancing back at him with cheeky grin.

“Ten by two, I guess?” He bites down a smirk when she spins to face him a bit gobsmacked, “Not even five?” She grumps chin doubling as she tries to see her bum herself.

“Six then?” He giggles enjoying how she’s getting riled up out of nowhere and she stomps away from him so he jogs to catch her, “Bambi. Was kiddin'.”

“You owe me two muffins with the amount of insults you’ve caused my poor bum.” He knuckles at her hair and she slaps him away like a feisty kitten, “I take it back –-- you’re really ten by two.”

“Oi!!!” Now, she’s running behind him. His curls blowing away and his coat ruffling with the zephyr, his head falling back with the belly-ache laughter that bounces against the bricked walls of shops.

..

It’s Friday night. Y/N is doing her laundry. Plucking out Harry’s socks from Trippers furry ear, her kitties sleeping in bassinet. Harry and Y/N have named them Tum, Tug and Truggers –-- she sits back on her heels upon hearing her door closing and hikes the small basket on her hip trudging outside —-- she didn’t had any clothes that could make her feel warm during these days – even her socks were all soggy -- so was Harry’s, now all she’s gonna do is make a blanket fort and hide in it for hours.

She knuckles at her eyes, blinking the tiredness away to see properly who’s standing in the middle of room, “Harry?” He's wearing a graduation gown and tips his hat with a sheepish smile then waves his degree infront of her, “Guess who's a proper dentist now!?” She’s frozen to her spot –- jaw slacked and eyes blown away in surprise.

“Your bad boi!” The basket falls from her hip onto the floor scaring Trippers and she whispers an, “Oh my goodness.” Before, stumbling towards him and crashes in his arms giving him a tight loving hug. He slinks his forearms around her and squishes his face into the crook of her neck, lips tickling her skin and if it was possible for him to freeze the time and cherish it for some more he'd.

“I’m so proud of you.” She mumbles into him with a grin. He feels so worthy and every hardship he faced now feels like nothing, this's how life supposed be throughout –- but best things always bores fruit for the right time.

“How about we celebrate? Just you and me.” Just you and me. It feels nice to just her and him. Makes her heart swoon. Makes her feel like skies outside are wet and pink, “Umm .. can we celebrate here? It’s okay .... “ She shifts on her feet and he furrows his brows in confusion, lips ticked up as if he’s scrutinizing her.

“You and not goin' nutters for an outing .. seems odd —-,” Then his eyes falls over the surrounding, a heating pad beside his feet – aloe fused socks hanging to get dry, a tray of chocolate muffins, kettle on the coffee table so he puts one and one together himself.

“Oh muffy —-... pizza and cuddles then?” If he wouldn’t be aware of how first few days of her period are hell for her then who would? He’s always making her pot meals and curry rice – feeds her and gets all strict when she refuses to eat anything. She looses her appetite and transforms into something ‘if zombie had a baby with vampire -- it sure looked like you’ he'd always scold her.

Even bribe her with candies. Once they were awfully painful and Y/N really didn’t want to be all dramatic not when their friends were having a good time, she doesn’t like to be a party pooper.

But, when a stinging cramp cut through her pelvis and thighs she was hunching forward with a jolt -- all teary eyes and wobbly lips. Harry left everything and rushed towards her, sitting on his knees on the floor and cupped her throat to make her look at him when she refused to, “Y/N ‘m serious -- you rather tell me what’s happening with ye’ or ‘m throwin' you at my shoulder and takin’ you hospital —... cause fuck look at you been like this since morning ....” He was rambling and Y/N felt like drilling a hole into floor and hide herself there forever.

She was mortified and embarrassed, a terrible combination.

She wasn’t able to tell him infront of all of their friends even though it’s something very normal, so everyone stared and nodded when they left they for Harry’s room.

“Bambi are you okay? I’m not even kidding something’s not —-..” She wipes her nose and tugs at his wrist trying to shush him, when he doesn’t pushes a fingers against his lips.

“Don’t worry. ‘m good --- just —-... umm I’m on my periods.” She rubs her one feet on another and his mouth fall into an ‘o' when realization hit him and his brows clinches together sternly.

He sighs running his fingers through his hair, something he does when frustrated and whumpy.

“Should’ve told me. We could have done this later ... do you want anything? I’ve got pain —--,” His words swells on his tongue when her head bumps against his chest and her hands locks around his neck, hugging him with all her gentle will because nobody has ever cared for her –-- him being so tentative to her makes her want to sob into his chest.

He warms her in all the right places.

..

“How’re you feeling on scale of one to ten?” He speaks while chewing onto the stuffed crust of pizza. They’re cosied up on the sofa while Mama Mia plays on the telly and she’s cuddled up into him, he's holding her heat pad with the grip of his forearm and she lifts her head mousey-ly from his bicep and whispers – “Eightish...? Now, you’re Dr.Styles.” He giggles at her and pushes her head back against him with his finger.

“What does my being dentist has a connection to your periods?” He dips the pads of his fingers into her pudgy love handles and squeezes them -- she giggles thinking about the joke she’s about to crack.

“You pull teeth, it’s blood and I pull out tampon so it’s —...” Harry chuckles gruntly at her and tickles her more, “Oh no. I know where it’s goin'....”

“You asked for it!” She pouts at him and he squishes her lips together as if she’s a duck toy.

Then they flump back into their cuddling position and Harry rubs her tummy in tender soothing circles, it helps her relax and his breath syncs with her and she really tries not to pay attention to her bratty screaming hormones heating her skin up – her thighs experiencing a quiver and she squeaks down a huffy whimper.

“You okay?” Harry asks. When she squirms against him and she gulps -- they don’t hide stuff from eachother so she tells him honestly, “You’re really turning me on.” Harry’s heart hiccups at that and his palms still over her thighs.

“Is that so?”

He pets her hair and tries to make her stand, “Just go to washroom and jizz one out.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why?”

“Promise me you wouldn’t make fun....” He frowns and nods bringing his pinky to make the deal.

She clutches her sweater down to her knees, cheeks rosy and mutters out in one breath – “I’ve specific days for that....” Harry really tires to. He locks up his laughs in his lungs and it aches his chest, his cheeks balloons up but at last he rolls onto floor and guffaws into his elbow.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun!!!” She whines kicking his side lightly and he grabs her ankle, “This means all those times you’d be all locked up –- oh my god, you were playing with yourself.” She folds her arms. Her nostrils flares with irritation and she doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“Pet, waiting so long .. it’s a torture to yourself.” He tells her genuinely sitting up with crossed legs and she mumbles knuckling at her eyes, “just some reasons ... horny is bad.” Now, Harry feels kind of terrible pushy person and he really wants to help her out but he’s walking on egg shells here. So, he stops asking anything.

“Rori's girlfriend is a sex therapist —-“ She becomes all fidgety at that and Harry takes in her nervousness, “It’s totally fine if you don’t want to.” He exclaims waving his hands and she gulps giving him a small nod.

“Night time fo' some grumpy muffy!” He coos, brings the blanket to her chin and his pupils dilate adorningly when she asks him, “Could I snuggle you?”

“Ofcourse.” He pecks her temple and tells her to budge over before sandwiching her between him and the sofa.

That whole night all his mind could think was why horny is bad for her?

..

Y/N was feeling overly warm and heated, a tad achy between her thighs. She vigorously tries to focus on something else but her chest is heaving at this point, even opens the windows and let the cool air hit her but no use –- so she does what have to be done in order to get rid of the throb.

She cosies herself on the bed, switches onto hentai and throws her legs in air to shimmy her sheer white panty down.

“Oh ...” Whimpers teeny-ly when her fingers brushing up her soaking pussyfolds provides her a bit relief – her soft hands wanders beneath her flimsy shirt and touches her skin in the most arousing way possible –-- tweaks her nipples and jerks up, oozing more wetness.

“Ah! Fuck.” She moans easing in two fingers at once and cramps down at them watching the hentai porn –- but it’s not enough, she’s been pushing her fingers in and out for ten minutes now—she’s unable to get to climax.

So she groans sits up and switches to domineering audios, listens to it while fingering herself hard and she has no idea from where her mind gathered these images from -- but -- soon she’s thinking about Harry’s husky rasp, his sea-foam beautiful eyes and those rosy knuckles ring clad hands —-- imagining him holding her down into mattress and pounding into her at a brutal pace, making her sit on his cock and not letting her move –-- his fingers down her petty throat —-- him spanking her ass if she let’s out any voice out and he'd roar at her beg as she'd be lurking at her tenth orgasm –---- every plausible dirty stuff with him.

She was so engulfed into making herself feel good, lost in her own headspace and imaginations that she didn’t hear footsteps approaching and it’s like she manifested him as he stands at the door-frame with blown away pupils –-- guppy mouth and she’s squealing feeling dizzy upon sitting up this quick.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck —-... sorry sorry ... “ He covers his eyes and turns to walk away but bumps his head with a thud into doorframe.

She gasps, knees up and almost shouts, “No!” making him halt mid-track and she’s on the verge of tears, red face and shaky fingers.

“Please ....”

“Stay.”

Harry’s eyes turns soft at that and he walks towards bed, licks his lips wet and brushes the loose tress of her hair away.

“You want me to stay, muffy?” He asks to make sure – she isn’t in haze and all fog minded.

“Yes. I want you to stay.” She doesn’t hesitate this time. Her words honest and full of plead, she needs him, she wants him, she wants to have him.

[ddixons-angel]

A Great Team

Requested by Anonymous and @coralscanvas​

I hope you don’t mind that I combined these requests since there was an overlap in the prompts and I found a way to incorporate the scenes you wanted together so I hope you like it! Also, I’m sorry this took super duper long!! Please let me know what you thought on it! ^^

Prompts:  12. “Please stop poking me.” & 14. “We work great together! I’m like Batman and you’re my Robin!” & 15. “You’re being ridiculous, how hard can this be?” & 17. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you spoke Walker!” & 19. “Nope, sorry, I don’t speak bullshit.” & 22. “I never knew I mattered this much to you.”

Pre-Season 4; Prison Era

Sarcastic and funny Reader goes on a run with Daryl; she likes to bug him and make him laugh but while on the run, she ends up hurt. 

Going on supply runs was not a new thing at the end of the world, it was a need to survive. It just proved to be more difficult as more time went by since places would be already raided. Outside your community was always dangerous, whether it be the walkers that roamed aimlessly or people who just wanted what you had. You knew this when you resided in Woodbury, and it all still proved to be true when you got to the prison after the Governor had abandoned the place. 

You had made yourself a very important part of the prison, always trying to help out either with being on watch or going on runs. You knew you didn’t have to, but you wanted to help these people. You knew they weren’t bad people just because you were on the opposite side of the battlefield, they were just protecting their home, their people; and those people also became your people. You believed that just because someone didn’t seem like a good person, didn’t always mean they weren’t a good person. That proved to be true since you had become good friends with Merle Dixon. 

As you were the librarian back in Woodbury, you had just surrounded yourself with books, mainly comics, and surprisingly, Merle would join you every once in a while since he liked your personality. Or rather, he liked how you didn’t take shit from people and never let anyone get their way with you. He’d amuse himself with conversations with you, bickering about everything and anything, but that was just harmless banter. He enjoyed your humorous remarks and sarcastic retorts to whatever he had to say.

“Oh, my brother woulda loved you,” you would always hear Merle say, and when you first met him, you told yourself that Merle was just bullshitting you. 

Daryl Dixon didn’t seem like the type of person who trusted or “loved” anyone, at least not when you first met him. He was always quiet and to himself, never looking anyone straight in the eye unless they were from his original group. You didn’t plan to try to get to know the man or even have any kind of conversation with him until you learned from Michonne what happened to Merle. He was killed by the Governor. He was your friend and he died; that hurt you more than you thought it ever would. However, you knew that whatever pain you were going through, it would never compare to how Daryl would be feeling and so you take it upon yourself to talk to him and make sure he was okay. 

At first it was hard to get Daryl to talk to you, he brushed you off, told you to leave him alone, and of course, he snapped at you when you mentioned his brother. That didn’t scare you away though, if Merle wasn’t able to scare you away, there was no chance Daryl could. You kept trying to get him to open up, using the same kinds of jokes Merle used to laugh at. You thought that since they were brothers, they would have the same humor. As it turns out, you were right. It didn’t show immediately at first, but Daryl was slowly opening up to you as you kept trying to make him laugh with silly jokes. The man barely ever smiled around you, and so the first time he did, the beautiful smile changed everything for you. 

That smile was why you were out in the woods now, walking alongside Daryl after hiding his bike away in a shroud of bushes. He wanted to go on a run alone, bring back food for the many mouths at the prison, but you weren’t having it. After spending close to everyday with Daryl, you found that you’d already fallen for him. You didn’t want him out in the woods alone no matter how well you knew that he could handle his own. 

“What the hell ‘re ya doin’...?” Daryl says as he glances at you.

“Well, if you’re not going to talk to me, I might as well make a new friend,” you say, holding up the rock you’d picked up from the ground, “meet Rocky.”

Daryl scoffs and rolls his eyes as he walks quicker. You eye him when he doesn’t respond to your joke, jogging to catch up with him again. The two of you had been walking for over twenty minutes but Daryl had barely said a word to you, not even his infamous grunts. 

“Please stop pokin’ me,” Daryl says after a few minutes; you’d been poking his arm for a a while.

“Oh, he speaks!” you say sarcastically, earning you another scoff.

“How d’ya expect us to catch anythin’ if ya keep talkin’? Scarin’ away any game.” Daryl mutters. 

“Do you really expect me to believe that that’s why you’re not talking to me?” you call him out, “we’ve caught a deer and then some and I’ve been so much louder, you too.”

“Yeah, we coulda caught more too if ya jus’ shut up,” Daryl retorts.

“What’s wrong, Daryl? Seriously,” you say, stopping in your tracks while Daryl only stops to look at you when he realizes you aren’t walking with him anymore, “Don’t think I can’t tell when something’s bothering you, now tell me.”

“Ain’ nothin’ botherin’ me, now le’s jus’ go.” Daryl says, turning around to walk again.

You sigh at this, “yeah... nope, sorry I don’t speak bullshit.”

You jog up to catch up to him again and you’re about to speak when he puts his hand up to stop you, and you don’t have to ask why. The next thing you two heard was snarling from all around you. Without a second thought, the two of you make a run for it. From the sounds of it, there were too many walkers to fight. You run for a while until Daryl deems it clear.

“Ya know...” Daryl starts, panting from all the running, “they only knew where we were... ‘cause ya kept blabbin’.”

You eye him, still panting, “oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you spoke Walker!”

“I don’t, jus’ pointin’ out the obvious,” Daryl grumbles, he then looks up at the sky, “it’s gettin’ late, should find a place to make camp.”

You sigh and nod, deciding not to fight him on the issue or who’s fault it was that you two nearly got caught in a herd of walkers. Daryl had collected wood for a fire while you tied up a string with cans as your alert system around your temporary camp. After Daryl had returned with enough wood for a small campfire, he was now trying to get it to light. However, he seemed to be having some trouble since the pile of wood did not seem to be lighting. 

“Dammit!” Daryl says in frustration, throwing the sticks he had in his hand back into the pile of wood. 

You have to stop yourself from chuckling at his reaction since you knew he was frustrated, “here, let me try.”

“Nah, ya won’t get it,” Daryl says, picking up another two sticks to try again, “ain’ as easy as it looks.”

You roll your eyes at him and take the sticks from him, “you’re being ridiculous, how hard can this be?”

Daryl huffs but lets you try to light the fire. You furrow your brows together when it doesn’t seem to be working. You pick up a bigger piece of wood and ask Daryl to help you hold it while you rub another stick on it. You break into a grin when you finally see a bit of smoke rising from the wood and then a small flame. 

“See? Wasn’t hard at all,” you say proudly, leaning back and smiling at him.

“Yeah, ya jus’ needed my help,” Daryl says, the smallest of smirks on his lips but you’re happy to see it. 

“Hmm... I guess, yeah, we do make a pretty great team.” you say, a cheeky grin on your face, “We work great together! I’m like Batman... and you’re my Robin!”

Daryl gawks at you after registering your words, and something changes in him, “you’re wrong on that...”

You notice this change in his tone, it worries you, it even scares you slightly, but you try to brush it off and joke with him like you always do, “wrong about... you being Robin?”

“Nah... ‘bout us bein’ a great team... we ain’t.” Daryl says, looking away from you.

“What?” you frown, that was not what you expected to hear at all.

“You’re too damn loud... always talkin’... makin’ everythin’ a joke, like everythin’s jus’ a big game... ya don’ take anythin’ seriously...” Daryl says, and every word is like an arrow to your heart.

“So I was what’s bothering you, is that it?” you scoff, trying to keep the tears that welled up in your eyes from falling, “well, why the hell didn’t you just say so?”

“Told ya I didn’ want ya out here...” Daryl mutters, his eyes avoiding yours. 

You let out a shaky sigh as you stare at him in disbelief. You wanted to get up and go, run away from him if he had a problem with you, but you knew you couldn’t. It was getting late, you’d already set up a camp and if you left now, Daryl would chase you down. Regardless of what he said, he’d never let you go out in the middle of the woods in the dark, that just wasn’t him. So, you just stay put. Without saying anything else, you lie down and turn so that you’re back is to him. You were upset at what he said, pissed off, but mostly hurt. He completely brushed off the fact that you two fought side by side like the perfect duo, you two were a great team, you always had each other’s backs. You’d both saved each other’s lives countless times, but apparently that didn’t matter to Daryl since all you did was joke around. 

The hurt and anger you felt for Daryl lingered until the morning and you were sure he knew it as well since neither of you said anything to each other as you packed up your things. You two walk along a road you’d found in silence, keeping an eye out for any animals or places you could search. You weren’t walking alongside Daryl though, you were a few steps ahead of him while he stayed back. He definitely sensed that you were pissed at him so he seemed to play it safe and give you some distance. 

“Hey,” Daryl calls out, making you turn around to face him.

Your face told him that you were still going to ignore him but he seems to brush it off as he gestures over to the side. You look in that direction and furrow your brows. There was a building, it looked to be a store of some sort. The two of you look at each other then go towards the building without another word. You slow your steps once you’re closer to the building, you have your gun raised and ready to fire as Daryl taps on the window to call out any walkers that were inside. 

“Seems clear,” Daryl says after a few minutes of silence. 

You nod; you were still persistent on not saying a single word to him. Daryl realizes this as well as he sighs then goes over to pull open the door to the store. This wasn’t your first run together so you knew the protocol. It was no surprise that the shelves of the store were empty and had all been ransacked by whoever had come before you. 

“Place has been wiped clean,” Daryl says as he makes his way back to you. 

You nod but then your eyes land on a door with a sign that read ‘Storage’. You walk towards it; if the store was empty, there was still a chance that the storage room might still have supplies. It was a long shot but the people who ran through here might not have thought to go through the storage room. 

“Hey, wait a second!” Daryl calls out but you had already listened to your instinct and opened the door. 

That was the wrong move. 

“Shit!” you cry out, backing up as walkers flooded out of the storage room.

You feel Daryl’s hand on your arm, pulling you away from the bloodthirsty herd as you shoot at them with your handgun. Daryl grunts as he yanks you away, making sure that you were behind him.

“C’mon! Let’s go!” Daryl shouts at you while he shoots at the herd with his crossbow, “get outta here, I’ll hold’em off!”

 “No!” you shout back, “I’m not leaving you here, we go together!”

No matter how mad or upset you were at him, you were never going to leave Daryl behind. You analyze your current situation: walkers were flooding out of the storage room and were blocking your way from the closest exit. You needed to block off the walkers so that you could make it out of the store without them following behind you. You knew where Daryl’s bike was but you needed to make your way back to it without leading the herd back. 

“The hell are ya waitin’ for?! I said go!” Daryl yells, frantic.

He’d already strapped his crossbow back on his shoulder and pulled out his knives to kill the walkers. You look at the shelves of the store and realise that they weren’t connected to the ground. You could push them. That’s how you would block the herd and get the both of you out of there. Without another word, you dash away towards one of the nearest shelves. You push the shelf towards the herd, thankfully it was light enough since it was empty. Daryl shouts at you disapprovingly when he sees that you haven’t left but once he realizes what you were doing, he rushes to the next shelf to do the same. Soon enough, you two had made a barricade of shelves between you and the walkers. 

“Pretty good idea,” Daryl says, a small smirk on his face; you assumed he was trying to win your forgiveness with compliments. 

“Of course it was, it was my idea.” you say without looking at him. 

“C’mon, let’s get outta here,” he says as he leads the way out. 

You nod with a sigh then when you’re about to turn to follow him, an arrow on the ground near the shelves catches your eye. You decide to go and pick it up since you needed all of your resources even if Daryl could make his own anytime he wanted to. Once your hand touches the arrow, you notice the shelf in front of you moving, about to tip over. You gasp in surprise and try to dash out of the falling shelf but cry out in pain when you feel a crushing pain on your ankle. You’d almost made it, but your ankle had got caught under the shelf. 

“Y/N!” you hear Daryl shout as he runs towards you. 

There was another layer of shelves between you and the walkers so that gave Daryl enough clearance to lift the shelf up so you could get free. Without speaking, he picks you up bridal style and runs out of the store with you and if you weren’t in pain from your probably broken ankle, you’d be blushing since you were in Daryl’s arms. 

The store wasn’t too far from where you and Daryl had left his bike so he was able to carry you there within the hour. You had tried to get Daryl to put you down but after his piercing glare at you, you decided to let him do what he wanted. He was angry at you, although you didn’t know why; you were the one who was hurt, afterall. 

“You want to tell me why you’re mad at me?” you ask him once he seats you on his bike. 

Daryl was crouched down, looking at your ankle to determine the damage. He doesn’t look up at you though, he doesn’t respond to your question either. You frown at him as he just completely ignores you, as if you hadn’t even spoken. 

“Hello? Earth to Daryl?” you call out, then you huff in frustration, “I’m the one who’s hurt, okay?! If anyone should be mad, it’s me! At least tell me what the hell I did-”

“I told ya to go!” Daryl snaps at you, “I told ya to leave, to get outta that damn place! But ya never listen! Ya stayed wit’ me... came up with tha’ damn plan an’ tha’s how ya got hurt!”

“If I didn’t stay... I didn’t do what I did, you would have become part of that herd!” you shout back at him. 

“Then ya let me!” he yells, his body shaking as if he’s about to break down, “ya don’t come back for me... ya don’t go outta yer way to save me... not you... I can’t lose you too...”

Your heart breaks at his words. You finally realize why he got so worked up, why he never wanted you to go on runs with him, why he seemed so cold after you hurt your ankle. He didn’t want to lose anyone else, more specifically, he didn’t want to lose you. The thought of losing you destroyed him and this was written all over his face. 

“I’m sorry...” you say, reaching out to pull him towards you, “I’m sorry... I should have been more careful.”

You let Daryl cry in your embrace. You don’t remember ever seeing him cry, not even when you tried to talk to him about Merle. You figured this was a good time to let him let out all of his emotions that had been pent up. Daryl pulls away from you after a few minutes, you thought he would be embarrassed that he had cried to you but to your surprise, he was looking into your eyes. 

“Can ya promise me somethin’?” Daryl starts, his voice soft, “can ya stop goin’ on runs?”

“Why?” you ask, although you were sure you knew the answer.

“‘Cause you’re a part o’ me I don’ wanna lose.” Daryl says.

This man just keeps on surprising you, from his actions to his words. Your heart flutters and you smile at him.

“I never knew I mattered this much to you,” you say.

You aren’t able to control yourself when you lean in to kiss his lips gently. You feel Daryl freeze momentarily at your actions and you pull away, afraid that you may have upset him with your boldness. 

“Sorry...” you whisper, “sorry I...”

“‘Ts okay,” he says with a faint smile, “‘m gonna take that as ya sayin’ yes though, to my promise.”

You chuckle then bat your eyelashes at him, “then... can I say it one more time?”

Daryl scoffs playfully, “later, we should head back, let Hershel take a look at yer ankle.”

“Okay,” you say with a smile. 

You scoot back on the bike and Daryl gets on in front of you. Although the run didn’t go as smoothly or as planned, things were even better than you imagined. You knew that Daryl would have to go on more runs in the very near future, but knowing how much you affected him now, you were sure you could convince him not go alone anymore. Either that or you could just threaten him that you’d follow him out if he ever went out alone. 

---

I hope you all enjoyed this! Please let me know what you think, especially of the super long intro, that seems to be my thing now xD 

Taglist (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!):

@twdeadfanfic​ | @fandomfanatic97​ | @crossbowking​ | @watchmeaspire​ | @spidergirla5​ | @kamieshep | @letsstarsfalling | @molethemollie | @alicewinchester99​ | @neilox | @womanup22 | @jodiereedus22 | @theonlyone-meeeee | @theunofficialduke | @inlovewdxx | @delightfullykrispypeach | @mrsfortune1306 | @wolfkg | @funeral-7 | @wnygirl2012 | @alispaceme | @themihala | @aavocadocloud |  @polkadottedpillowcase | @felicisimor | @depressedfrog2 | @spacexkiddo0 | @rachelxwayne | @liadamerondjarin | @soraitmnt | @angelofthorr | @vampteefies | @lightning-butterfly | @huffledor-able541

[baconpal]

talkin bout fuckig manga

hey it’s me, haven’t had internet for over a week and i’ve been sick and uni and blah blah blah time for a rant about manga

this time its about  "Soredemo Machi wa Mawatteiru", tl;dr, good manga read it idk

lots of bullshit below the cut

Before anything I say gets too confusing or I go off on an insane tangent, just know my recommendation is that you read "Soredemo Machi wa Mawatteiru". It's not very easy to find online since it has an official English release (which my recommendation extends far enough to suggest I might pick up in the future, just to have it, but I am very stingy), but there's an alright torrent of all the volumes on your local anime torrenting website, and is at the very least worth the trouble of reading as such. There is also an anime that gets better as it goes, but the manga is my primary recommendation. Beyond this point I'm not gonna give much regard to what I write, so get ready for anything, read the manga and see if you agree with me, or don't and see if I care:

BOUT THE ANIME: The SoreMachi anime is one of those rare comedy anime you find where the animation and overall production is just really extra the entire time. Hopefully you know what I mean because I won't really be able to explain it any other way, it's simply one of those shows where the jokes are decent and it's a fun time for the most part. Unfortunately, the anime makes a couple of critical missteps that kept me from getting far into it when I first tried watching it about a year ago, and in retrospect seem even less reasonable.

Starting with the good, as an adaptation it does a good job with most chapters it covers, it properly sources where each chapter comes from incase you intend to read the manga and skip around to catch up, and the anime adapts some sections to have additional jokes that fit very naturally in to the story. It also covers up some of those problems only manga can have like having a concert segment without any actual music involved, until they invent mp3-paper it's just something we'll have to live with. Translation work was pretty good (I watched the [WhyNot] release for those who care), which is extra important for something as difficult to translate as jokes from another language. The set of episodes they chose to end on was very good, and was expanded to be a lot more impactful in the anime. If it wasn't for the last episode being as strong as it was I may have given up on finding the manga when I saw it wasn't super easy to read online.

As for what the anime fails in, some episodes feature some really blatant over-acting that doesn't really help make characters believable, and there's this obnoxious gag that continues the whole where through where most scenes have a few seconds long line from what is essentially a forced mascot character, which usually mean nothing and only serve to harm the pacing of many episodes (there isn't even any sort of equivalent bit in the manga so I really don't know why they did it, most of the anime original jokes are pretty good so I just really don't get it). The biggest issue the anime faces is that the source material is about 140 chapters, while the anime is only able to cover 24 chapters. This comes with a LOT of problems, the first being what I'd call the "required reading". SoreMachi is not a 1-note simple comedy where you can skip to any chapter and be completely okay; There are many small but meaningful subplots lying beneath, and characters have a fair bit of development throughout. What this means for the anime is that the first 3-4 episodes are just the first few chapters of the manga, which are a bit rough and not as good as the majority of the work, which is true of a lot of comics (god fuck I promise there will be more than a first chapter of my comic I promise it'll get better fuck). In terms of the anime by itself, I'd say episode 1 is decent, 2 is middling, and by 3/4 their still taking a while to introduce members of the cast, and I didn't immediately want to finish it. I put the show down for a long time until my internet started dying and I wanted to watch something fun. Slapping it back on at episode 5 I immediately had a great time and watched the rest of the show pretty soon after. While I understand the reasoning behind doing this, the anime does not pay off this structure, as beyond the first few episodes, the chapters start being presented out of release order and out of chronological order, kind of destroying any consistent throughline. This decision in and of itself isn't the worst, since the comic isn't always chronological, and the volume ordering is a bit different from the release ordering, but the inconsistency makes the first few episodes feel lessened without reason. The other large failure that comes with only animating about 1/7th of the entire work is that many themes and concepts that are core to the manga are not represented in the anime well at all. One of the biggest is the rare but unnerving supernatural chapters, of which only one is animated, and not a particularly good one. In order to talk about these themes I'll have to transition into talking about the manga itself, since they aren't part of the anime.

DA MANGA: So one last recommendation that you read the manga, the whole damn thing. Cus we're gettin into themes and character moments that take a long time to pay off, and obviously is all part of my interpretations, so if that stuff means anything to you don't let me ruin it for ya.

The title of the manga is, in essence, the entire manga's "punchline" in that every chapter could meaningfully end with simply the text "And yet the town still turns..." (My translation of the title, fuck "And yet, the town revolves" or "But the town moves"); by this I mean most chapters end in an anti-climax where a mystery is left unsolved, or a mystery is solved and undercut by the realization that life simply keeps on going without much change. This is used to essentially force your eyes open to all possibilities when reading, as the main character spends her time acting like a detective, and these mysteries end up as either misunderstandings, secrets, riddles, and sometimes something out of the ordinary happens that makes you unable to pin anything down firmly. Similarly, these endings aren't always read-and-forget scenarios. Several chapters come back in the form of a continued joke, a continued mystery, or contribute to some greater purpose later. Readers are properly rewarded for keeping everything they can in mind, while also tormenting such people with loose ends.

I enjoy Hotori as a protagonist due to her character being defined not in flaws and strengths, but in mindedness. Hotori seems like a simple "haha she's dumb" character to start, but consistently throughout she proves that her strengths are in memory, observation, and deduction, while lacking in some more common sense and abilities. Her brain works in strange ways that some people may or may not understand, such as her need to think through even the most trivial fictional scenarios, which I relate to deeply.

The art and paneling throughout are wonderful. Ishiguro Masakazu is one of those artists who draws very simple characters, but knows how to use details and depth to breath so much life into the artwork. He also clearly uses the occasional supernatural happenings as an excuse to draw what he loved, as all sorts of artistic depictions of the supernatural come out that simply look satisfying. These parts obviously meant a lot to him since he's been working on a primarily mystery-action manga that has a lot more of that stuff in it. (Also, as hindsight is 20/20, if you've read any of his new work you'll notice that the main character of it is eerily similar to a character who shows up very late in SoreMachi that the author obviously fell in love with, cus she just keeps coming back and even ends up with a really unsettling end to her character arc despite only being introduced as a component in a harmless mystery. Feel free to call me out for the same shit 30 years from now when I'll probably do the same shit)

I'd like to get into some of the major themes of this work, as a lot of them hit very close to my mind (which I guess is true of any theme you recognize for yourself, you wouldn't really "get it" if it didn't mean something to you...).

The simplest theme, again, comes from the title. The main character, Hotori, expresses a desire that the town she lives in continues going on, unchanged forever. This is obviously a fear of change, which ya know, same, but also an exploration of what it means to fear change. Hotori actively tries to keep businesses from closing down, keep friends from leaving, and keep relationships from changing, while simultaneously making all sorts of new relationships and solving mysteries. Hotori even comes to realize that simply learning the truth about something changes the world through your own perspective, and that such changes can't be undone. In spite of this, Hotori mostly gets her wish, any time she fears that a large change will impact the town, its resolved about the same as any other issue. Whether its a message that even time can't keep you from your loved ones and that change isn't worth fearing, or a concession that large changes to the setting would be a bad idea in terms of humor, I can't really decide. This theme reaches it's conclusion in what is one in a series of "ending" kinda chapters at the end of the series. Hotori is faced with a supernatural ethical situation, save her town from destruction at the cost of her existence, or live through the disaster, knowing her town and the people in it will forever be changed. While the actual result is that nobody disappears and nothing is lost, and the event may have simply been a strange dream, Hotori confidently decides that sparing the people in her town from a life altering event is worth giving up her memories with them. A kind of bold spit-in-the-face to the idea that change is okay, where we find that Hotori didn't fear change for herself, but rather for the people around her.

There's another major idea in this manga, which takes a very long time to pay off, and completes its arc at the very very very actual end of the series, the idea of "leading someone to be something". A character that rides that line between main and side character, Shizuka, is a writer of detective novels, who feels the best person to judge her works would be a version of herself without the bias of being the author. She tries to achieve this by leading Hotori to be interested in detective works (including her own) and generally be just like her, starting from a young age. The end result is a young girl dead set on being a detective herself (or at least another novelist), while Shizuka keeps her identity as an author secret. She then uses Hotori as a scapegoat for herself, attempting to see how she would solve various mysteries and use that as inspiration, and this is depicted as though Shizuka were some sort of villain, which she may feel like she is. The end result of it all, though, is that Hotori was likely already a detective-minded person, and that even if Shizuka pushed her down that path, it was Hotori's decision to continue down it, and the very end of the manga is a scene revealing that Hotori figured out Shizuka's secret at some point, and even still respected Shizuka and aspired to reach her, and the two accept each other for who they are. I enjoy this ending a lot, since as an artist I've worried that some of my love or aspirations for and from other artists came with an ulterior motive of wanting a better community for art to exist in, but people are people and will make their own decisions, and some day everyone may be able to become equals in a truly meaningful sense, where everyone is inspired by and guiding each other together.

So that probably didn't mean shit to nobody and I didn't even really talk about anything in the comic like most of the main characters or any of the shit goin on but ya know fuck you go read it, and thanks for reading this.

[obwjam]

The mike x borrower meeting sounds interesting, you should definitely write it!

not the exact same thing but this is a direct copy-paste from something i wrote a year ago lmao i’m putting it under the cut, in which mike makes a new borrower friend breakfast

“G’morning, little buddy,” a soft yet cheery voice rang out above me. My eyes snapped open to see Mike looming over me. I shot up and tried to scuttle back, but not only was my leg wrapped up nicely, but I was, too. I merely fell back into the mountainous folds of the cloth.

“How’d ya sleep?” he asked, pulling a chair up and seemingly glossing over my flinch.

“O-okay,” I stammered. I was sleeping well until I was rudely awakened.

“Was it too hot? Too cold?”

I shrugged. “Too big.”

Mike let out a small laugh. “Funny. Lemme getcha somethin’ to drink. Y’ever had coffee?”

“What do you think?” I asked, trying to be funny but instead coming across as rude. Mike raised his eyebrow at me, but amusingly smirked.

“You care to try it?”

“I--I guess I could… I’ve always smelled it. Never been able to sneak around and grab any.”

“Mmm, alright,” he said, standing back up. I marveled up at him as he moved around, almost not able to believe that I was watching him like always, but I was close. I didn’t have to hide, or worry that he might see me.

“Hmm…” Mike mused, filling his mug to the top. “Didn’t really think how I’d pour ya a cup.”

“I’ve got a cup back in--” I started, but stopped. It probably wasn’t a good idea to tell him about the nook.

But of course, he heard me. “Back where?”

My eyes darted to the table. “N-nothing. Nowhere. I--I wouldn’t be able to make it there, anyway, with my leg.”

“Are you talkin’ about where you live?” Mike asked, leaning back against the counter and casually sipping his coffee. As if this was a casual conversation.

I nodded. “It’s called -- well, I call it my nook. Just where I sleep and keep all my things.”

“Sounds very cozy,” he said, taking another sip. “Y’know, I could always bring you wherever you--”

I laughed, shaking off the thought of one of them holding me. “You wouldn’t be able to bring me to the nook, Mike. You’re too big.”

A smirk grew across Mike’s face. “Too big, huh? Can’t just stick my arm in a hole or somethin’?”

“No,” I said with a chuckle. “Still much too big.”

Mike shrugged. “That’s a shame. I would’ve liked to see it.”

He paused, deliberating over something. He eventually let out a sigh and flopped back down into a chair.

“I, uh, look, I--” he paused for a breath. “I know this is all, uh, less than ideal,” he stammered, glancing down at my leg. I bit my lip. “But, well, y’see, we want to help. So if you need anything, want anything… just, just tell one of us. We’ll be happy to getcha what you need.”

Before I could speak, he started again.

“A-and, well… I-I know it’s prob’ly pretty scary, f-for you, but, uh, we can bring ya anywhere too.”

There it was. I knew he was going to address that. And it wasn’t entirely crazy -- I certainly didn’t want to be stuck on this table forever. But the thought of trusting one of them with my life in their hands and having the others give me stares? I didn’t want to deal with that. Not right now.

“I bet you don’t wanna be sittin’ on this table forever,” Mike echoed my thoughts. I gave him a nod.

“It’s just…” I started, freezing up when I looked up at Mike. Eye contact was still a work in progress. “I dunno.”

“You can tell me, darlin’, it’s alright,” Mike said softly. “I’m not gonna get mad.”

I took a breath. “This is all pretty… new to me. A-as you can imagine. I’ve never… I--I don’t want to…” Inhale. Exhale. “I don’t want to be a bother. I’ve already caused too much trouble.”

“Aw, darlin’, you haven’t caused a lick of trouble,” Mike said.

“You understand that I can’t go back, right? I can’t go back on my own with a broken leg. I--I can’t climb, I can’t even walk. If--if I want to survive, at least— at least until my leg is better… I’m gonna need your help to do it. That’s an awful lot of attention you’ll need to dedicate to me. And I… I don’t want to ask that of you.”

“Oh, it’s not as big a deal as you think it’ll be,” Mike said, leaning down. “Sure, you’re pretty small, and we’ll have to be extra careful. But makin’ sure you have somethin’ to eat or drink or that ya have a place to sleep at night is no trouble at all.” He paused to rub the back of his neck, desperately trying to think of what to say next. “Are you… how are you feelin’? ‘Bout all this.”

I shrugged, allowing myself to laugh. I guess there was no way any of them would ever understand unless I explained it to them.

“I think… more than anything… I’m, uh, anxious,” I said, furiously twiddling my thumbs. “A-and scared. I-it’s hard not to look at everything and everyone towering above me and not get overwhelmed, you know?”

Mike nodded, suddenly acutely aware of how big he must seem to her. “I can leave ya alone, if you need time to… relax.” That was not the right word to use.

***change of perspective for no reason just go with it***

To his surprise, she vigorously shook her head. “No. Well. I dunno. I’m just… I-I’m already here. You already know about me.” In truth, she wanted to be left alone. All she wanted to do was crawl into her nook and never come back out. But knowing that she couldn’t go anywhere, the last thing she wanted was to be lounging around on the table, exposed and alone, without someone to accompany her and take some of the attention away. Mike was taking the lead on taking care of her and was the least invasive of the four, so this was the best she was going to get right now. “You… you’re not going to…” she stopped. Mike inched forward, eyes urging her to press on.

“Not goin’ to what?”

She sighed. “Not… do anything to me.” Her voice was so soft, Mike was surprised he could hear her.

“Do anything? Like what?”

She shook her head, lower lip quivering. “N-nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Mike’s eyes widened with sorrow, but he knew it wouldn’t be good to push her. He could piece together that the “anything” she was referring to wasn’t a good thing, anyway.

“You hungry?” Mike asked, desperate to change the subject. She slowly nodded, still looking away. Mike tried to ignore the fact that this whole thing stemmed from his inability to give her coffee and he had yet to come up with a solution. For the first time ever, he found himself wishing that Micky was awake early. He would know how to make something for her.

Mike stood up and looked into the ice box, his heart leaping when he saw actual food in there.

“Y’ever had eggs and bacon?”

She laughed. It was a genuine laugh, one of those laughs you give when you’re delightfully amused. Mike hadn’t even seen her smile, so hearing her laugh float up from the table surprised him. He found the corners of his lips turning up at the sound.

“It’s safe to assume I’ve never tried anything,” she called out, clearly trying to make sure Mike could hear her. Mike fished out the carton of eggs and half-eaten package of bacon from the back of the ice box, swiftly placing the ingredients on the counter. He reached for a pan and clicked the stove on.

“Think about it,” she forced herself to continue. She didn’t want Mike to be the only one talking. “How could I have possibly borrowed eggs and bacon while you weren’t looking?”

Mike bit his lip. He never really thought hard about the fact that she had basically been stealing things in secret for years. Anything she’s ever taken was done without their knowledge. He couldn’t even remember noticing things going missing until the recent bread incident.

“Fair point,” Mike said, cracking an egg over a now-heated pan.

“Plus, it’s hard to borrow a meal you only make twice a year.”

Mike turned around quickly, a comically amused look on his face. “Was that a joke?” he said with a teasing tone. She winced and sunk back into her towel a little bit, but recovered quickly when she realized Mike wasn’t being harsh.

She shrugged, trying to hide a smile. “It’s just the truth.”

Mike found himself trying to hide his own grin.

“Yer funny,” he said, letting the sizzle of the other side of the egg try to hide his comment. It was the second time calling her funny this morning. He called Micky funny maybe once a month.

She had heard his comment, of course, and definitely registered that it was a repeat compliment. She knew Mike was going to get all weird if she mentioned it, so she stayed quiet, marveling at his cooking. This wasn’t the first time she’s ever watched one of them perform a mundane daily task, but it was different than all the other times. She was present in this. Though the nagging thought in the back of her mind telling her to hide was still there, she knew it was just instinct. Mike was making this for her. She didn’t have to watch him cook and smell the food and wonder what it tastes like and wish she could find out for herself. She was going to find out. Despite the fear and uncomfortability she felt, she was willing to let her guard down for this one thing. This was a primal instinct letting itself through. She was going to enjoy this meal, and enjoy the company. Maybe it would help her feel more normal.

Once the egg was done frying, Mike plopped two strips of bacon in its place, transferring the egg to a small plate. The smell of eggs was good, yeah, but the smell of bacon was overwhelming. So overwhelming, in fact, it got Micky to get out of bed. He bounded down the stairs, excited that they had enough food for Mike to be cooking for everyone. He was so excited that he completely forgot about their little house guest.

“You’re making breakfast? Groovy!” Micky said, riding up right on Mike’s tail, making him jump.

“Don’t do that,” Mike muttered harshly, flipping the bacon over. “It ain’t for you.”

“What!” Micky cried. “You’re just making breakfast for yourself? C’mon, man, that’s--”

“Are you stupid?” Mike hissed, jerking his head toward the table. Micky looked back, down, then gasped. Yeah, I am stupid.

He chuckled nervously, locking gazes with her for just a bit too long. Her cheeks were bright red, and she looked nervous.

“S-sorry,” he said suddenly, breaking eye contact with her. “I’ll, uh.” He reached up to the cabinet and pulled out the almost-empty box of corn flakes. “I’ll just go back upstairs.”

Before Mike could protest, Micky was already halfway gone. The Texan sighed, peeling the bacon from the pan and placing it next to the eggs.

“Sorry about him,” Mike said, placing the plate in front of him as he took a seat. “That boy don’t know how to control himself.”

She shrugged, looking down to her cast. “He did a good job with this.”

Mike looked to her leg. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“It’s… it hurts. Kinda throbbing,” she said. “But I can feel it getting better.”

“Already?” Mike asked, almost absentmindedly, as he took his fork and began cutting off a little piece of egg.

She nodded. “Borrowers, we… we tend to heal faster than humans do.” Mike cringed again at the distinction. “I’ll probably be good to walk around again in like, two weeks.”

“Two weeks? Are ya sure? Have you ever broke your leg before?”

She laughed that amused laugh again, and Mike found himself getting embarrassed every time she did that. It was a laugh that said Oh boy, this idiot doesn’t get it.

“I’ve broken more bones than I can count.” She fiddled with her thumbs. “Elbow, legs. Both of ‘em. Arms, shoulders, fingers. I’ve rolled my ankle so many times I don’t know how it’s still attached to my body.” She stuck her good leg up and rolled her ankle around. “Yeah, it’s still there!”

“Jeez, that’s awful,” Mike said, suddenly losing all interest in the food. “How did you…” He didn’t know if asking this was a good idea, but he wanted to know everything about her that he could possibly find out. “How d’you, get all those… supplies you need, if you’re all banged up?”

She went quiet for a moment. “Wh-when I take food, I usually keep a weeks’ supply going. To prevent running out. Water is… more difficult. I’ll go a few days without drinking any.”

“That could kill you!”

She shrugged. “I’ve gone weeks without water before. It’s so hard to transport, I end up spilling half the stuff I take.”

Mike tried to picture carrying a bucket of water through an obstacle course with a broken leg. He couldn’t even fathom the possibility.

“It’s… amazing you even get any,” he said carefully, not wanting to sound patronizing.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” she smirked, eyes cast downward. She wasn’t very hungry anymore.

“I…” Mike tried, but stopped himself. Everything he asked led to her being sad, and that was the last thing Mike wanted right now. “…why don’t ya try some of that food I made ya?” he tried. “It’s gonna go cold soon.”

That seemed to catch her attention rather quickly. She finally had a hot meal in front of her, and she was really about to squander it. She stared at the scraps in front of her, studying the textures of the egg. Luckily, the bacon smelled delicious, because the smell of the egg was not doing her appetite any favors. She began to wonder how disgusting this thing might taste.

“Everythin’ alright?” Mike asked with a mouthful of egg. He figured she would be all over this. She finally looked up at him, and his face was soft; sympathetic. He was simply waiting for her to try the food, eager for her reaction to his cooking. She gave a small nod before picking up the small piece of egg with her hands. It was still warm, though not fresh-out-of-the-pan hot. It was still warmer than anything she’s ever had before, and it felt wonderful in her hands. It wasn’t often that she experienced warmth; though, in California, she fared better than most. But the nights got cold and the heater was much too loud to sleep next to. Huddling up in her blankets and getting some hot water was the closest she ever got to the feeling of warmth. And when she was able to treat herself to hot water, the feeling of it traveling through her body and down to her stomach, ironically enough, always gave her chills. Maybe this egg could do the same.

With a renewed sense of energy, she bit into the egg and was instantly surprised—it was squishy. It almost sloshed around in her mouth, but it was fluffy at the same time. A little wet, too. There was some weird yellow liquid on it, which she could only assume was part of the egg. She chewed carefully, wanting to savor and remember the first egg she’d ever eaten. She couldn’t quite place the taste, but it was cooked enough that it was stained with the taste of old foods cooked in that same pan. It gave it an extra depth she didn’t realize food could have. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted and she loved it.

“This… this is incredible,” she said, looking at the egg like it was a newborn baby. Mike couldn’t help but smile at her infatuation.

“Aw, well. My cookin’ ain’t that good,” he joked. Inside, he was just happy she seemed to find pleasure in something.

Before she could even respond, she abandoned her notion of savoring the taste and scarfed down the rest of the egg. She ravenously turned to the bacon and ate it up before Mike could even blink.

“Jeez, you’re hungry, aren’t’cha?” he mumbled affectionately, not realizing he had slipped into pet-talk mode. She, however, did notice. She shot him a glare, which took Mike a few moments to understand.

“If you only ever ate stale crackers, you’d eat like this too,” she said, wiping her mouth. “Well, I’m actually a little surprised you aren’t eating like this is the first hot meal you’ve ever had!” She said cheekily with a nervous chuckle.

Mike smiled, once again amused at her joke, before realizing there was a layer to this.

“…is this your first hot meal? Ever?”

She shrugged, which Mike was beginning to realize was an ashamed “yes”.

“…It’s not even that hot,” she mumbled, only half-joking.

“Jeez, bud, I—I could have heated it back up for ya.” She didn’t respond. “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from. Do you want some more?” He gestured to his plate, which was still full of food, but she took intrigue with something he had just said.

“Plenty more?”

“Well, yeah. I-I’m not gonna let you starve,” he said, sniffing a laugh.

“You… you don’t need to do that,” she said, more ashamed than anything. No matter how wonderful real cooking was, she didn’t need to be treated like she was totally helpless.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Mike asked, genuinely surprised by her reaction. “Based off everythin’ you told me, well, you don’t need to hunt for scraps anymore. We can take care of stuff for ya—”

“—I don’t need to be taken care of,” she snapped, surprising herself. “I’ve been managing for 22 years,” she mumbled lowly. “I’ll be alright.”

Mike raised his eyebrows. He understood this kind of stubbornness because it was the same exact kind of pride he carried around himself. He didn’t expect her to be proud of the way she lived, but he understood the knee-jerk reaction. It was a lot easier to see how silly it was on the outside, though, and he suddenly started to wonder how many times his pride made him seem foolish instead of independent.

“I’m not sayin’ you can’t take care of yourself. Clearly, you’ve been going for this long. I don’t think you’re helpless. You seem to be anything but.” She meekly met Mike’s gaze, which was sincere yet firm. “But I get it, y’know? The stubbornness. Refusin’ help because you think acceptin’ it makes you weak.”

there is more but this is already way too long lmao

[lnarizakis]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧COACHES DON’T PLAY

MONTHLY NEWSLETTER #4: DAILY BULLETIN

HOT OFF THE PRESS ! Thanks for reading our online daily bulletin! Here you can read everything that has happened this past week, along with anything going on today. Not what you're looking for? Please view the masterlist [here]!

EXTRA ! miya osamu x fem! reader. 1k+ words. original characters.

“So. Ya got the girl.”

Osamu, being the one who claimed the top bunk for the night, stared up at the ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head. He hummed, nodding, even though Atsumu couldn’t see him.

“Yeah, I did. I dunno, man.” Atsumu, in the lower bunk, turned to his side and stared at the wall, listening to his brother who sounded like he was about to recite his entire life story leading up to this moment.

“Ya don’t seem happy about it, dude,” Atsumu said, interrupting his twin before he could continue any further. “Is she just some prize to you?”

If Osamu was feeling gaseous at the moment, he would have farted on his brother through the small gap between the bunk bed and the wall because of the extremely false statement Atsumu accused him.

“Hell no, 'Tsumu. I genuinely like her. It’s just that, lately, ever since I confessed to her, she’s just been up my ass over the little details about everything. Ya get me?” Osamu turned to his side as well, staring out at their empty, dark bedroom. He sighed.

“For real? She doesn’t strike me as that typa person.”

“Well, neither did I,” Osamu replied, closing his eyes. “I think I’m gonna sleep now. G’night, I guess.”

“Y’know, ’Samu, you should write a letter ’bout it to (Y/N). It’ll make for a hella good follow-up letter for next month’s issue,” Atsumu added, before drifting off to sleep as well.

The next morning, when Osamu arrived at school with his brother by his side, Asai met him by the shoe lockers. She walked up to him, an infuriated expression for some odd reason, and her hands were comically placed on her hips. Asai placed a single finger on his chest as she stared up at him with a fiery glint in her eye. Passersby stared at the two of them, amused at the scene. Osamu grew a little flustered (or, perhaps, it was embarrassment or fear) under her gaze.

“You were s’posed to walk me to school today. Didn’t we agree on this?” Asai asked him. It almost sounded like she was scolding him, and Osamu accepted the slander like a punishment.

“We did, but I couldn’t tell if you were talkin’ about today or tomorrow,” Osamu said as calmly as he could manage without wanting to lash out at her as equally as she had with him. “It’s ’cause you were goin’ on about somethin’ else while we were planning. And, I dunno, I guess I just didn’t ask for clarification.”

Atsumu, still by Osamu’s side, muttered loud enough for his twin to hear, “Sounds like you’re the one at fault, bro.”

Osamu rolled his eyes, knowing damn well that if it weren’t for Asai planting fear in him, there would be better communication between the two of them. Yes, that’s right: Osamu grew to become scared of his girlfriend. And he just might take that advice Atsumu gave him last night.

“What did you roll your eyes at, me?” Not only was Osamu’s girlfriend a stickler for the little things, Asai was also quick to assume things, which definitely didn’t sit right with Osamu. He had to exhale out as slowly and as calmly as possible in order, once again, to restrain himself from lashing out at Asai.

“No, my love.” The pet name rolled off his tongue as sweetly as honey and as staged as a musical performance. There was no way he was going to make himself the center of attention again—and for the same reason, too. “I was rollin’ my eyes at Atsumu over there,” he motioned to Atsumu, changing his shoes by his shoe locker, “‘cause he made some dumb comment.”

Asai backed down from her aggressive stance, crossing her arms and releasing her fixed gaze from Osamu. She looked away, then uncrossed her arms as she took hold of her boyfriend’s hand.

“C’mon, love. School’s about to start soon.” She pulled him to his shoe locker—he hadn’t even changed his shoes yet. Once he had done so, the two made their way to the second years’ hallway where she would show the entire world who she belonged to—or perhaps who belonged to her.

✫’ﾟ･:*:･˙

Several days later, on a hot afternoon after school, (Y/N) sat in the newspaper club room, with the air conditioner on to the max. Her blouse was un-tucked out of her skirt, and she could feel a layer of sweat dousing her forehead. Nothing in the hot air could match the burning feeling she was getting in her chest as she read the email on her computer screen.

She didn’t have to write a response for this, right? There’s got to be some other letter she could answer. Of all the letters she could have read, why did her fellow club members choose this email for her to draft a response? One of her legs bounced from the anxious feeling rising and bubbling in her stomach. (Y/N) was extremely nervous about how writing a response for this letter could incite a deal of damage to her reputation as someone who not only makes relationships, but also ruins them.

Staring at the anonymous letter in front of her, and as she picked apart each word of it, (Y/N) knew that this letter was far from anonymous as the email made itself out to be. It was, without a doubt, from Miya Osamu.

Just one problem: how was her editor going to feel about this?

Dear Dating-san,

I’m going anonymous because I don’t want my girlfriend to find out I’m writing a letter to you. Before my brother sent a letter to you I didn’t know much about her even though I liked her a lot.

Now that I’m dating her, I didn’t realize how much of a toxic person she was and I want to find some way to break up with her and I don’t know how. Even my brother says I’m still really distracted because of this. What should I do?

Thank you,

Anonymous.

taglist: send an ask to be added ! [ @lcaita​ @reogou​ @alienvarmint​ @annalyn-annalyn​ @kunimwuah​ @akaarin​ @wansseul​ @anime-simp​ @dorkyama​ @keiyoomi​ @studywoo​ ]

[meowdymista]

An Interestin’ Fella in the Swamp

Word Count: 1454

Warnings: Swearing, mention of rape

Notes: I feel like there’s more to Bill than we see in the game, and this is to fix that

Masterlist

***

Finally. Bill was wondering when he would show his face in camp again. Taking a swig from the beer bottle, he watches Arthur dismount out the corner of his eye. He’s fussing over his horse, feeding it sugar cubes from the palm of his hand as he pats the thick sturdy neck.

“How can a man - a real man, ah mean - truly express his passion wi’ such delicate creatures?” Mac had slurred one night. Bill remembers the heat of the whisky in his cheeks as he drank in the gleam of red in the Scot’s stubble. “Ah’ve never understood the appeal.”

“Me neither,” he had replied, surprised by his own sincerity. “Them boys gettin’ distracted… it’s unprofessional. There ain’t time for love in this game. All you can hope for is one good fuck, y’know? When it takes me, I want to be able to lose myself in it. I want to fucking fuck, for fuck’s sake! Not worryin’ about messin’ her hair, or whether or not she’s gonna slap me afterwards.”

Mac had looked up at him then with heavy lidded eyes. “Ye ever fucked a man, Williamson?”

Tossing his bottle aside, Bill strolls up to the campfire where Arthur is helping himself to a bowl of stew. The only other man in camp with a temper like his own (besides Micah, of course) - he doesn’t understand how he’s never put it together before.  Women have always looked so small - so comically fragile - besides his thick build and broad shoulders. 

“Bill,” he greets with a nod.

Bill suppresses a smirk. Better practice my name, cowpoke, ‘cause I’ll have you screaming it tonight. He shakes himself mentally. No, he tells himself. Keep to the facts.

“I met an interesting fella in the swamp,” he says coyly, “Real interestin’.”

“Did you?”

Mac had known plenty of interesting fellas - years of discreet probing had paid off with connections to previous finds. The more Bill had tested the waters, the better he learned how to maneuver through them, and with Mac he had been able to spin a web of various “interesting fellas” across various states. Of course the web wasn’t made to spread this far west, but an introduction with that Alden in Rhodes proved fruitful. With a couple of helpful hints, Bill had found himself out in the Bayou, accepting the dinner offered by a fella called Sonny.

“Ain’t this a fine place? An interesting place, the best of places. Is it land, or is it water? Can’t make up its mind, no siree… I can’t make up my mind about things neither.”

“Sure! He seemed to know all about you!”

Arthur doesn’t react. His skills of discreet probing have been gathering dust since that first night with Mac, but he’s already started the ball rolling. He can’t walk away.

“I mean -” He clears his throat. “-all about you.”

“Get outta HERE.”

He chuckles quietly, holding his hands up in mock surrender, ready with his smooth speech about how men gotta do what they gotta do, but a second look at the man is a punch to the gut. His eyes are cold grey steel - and the look is all too familiar.

He hasn’t seen such venom in months except in the wake of Micah’s taunts. It is barely bridled fury - the last warning before the bull is released from the pen to wreak havoc. They were the eyes of man scorned - a hetero on the defence.

Bill drops his arms to his sides and walks away. He braces himself, but no hit lands. He’s grateful for that at least... but also disappointed. A fist fight was his favourite way to get the blood pumping, especially when it was to decide who would dominate. Fellers around here were too submissive.

“I’m peculiar. Folks always say so.”

Well, interesting fellas always were peculiar in some way. “Queer”. Didn’t that mean strange?

“You wanna- you wanna play with Sonny? I like playin’.”

He risks a look back over his shoulder. The tin bowl lies face down, it’s contents splattered over the grass. Arthur is nowhere to be seen.

“I’ve always wanted a friend like you… and I can tell you want a friend like me... ain’t that so?”

Taking up guard duty, he keeps a cigarette between his teeth until dusk. When Javier turns up to take over, he can’t help but ask - “Hey, you seen Arthur?”

“Why? What shit you started now?”

“Who said I started shit?” he snaps.

“Tilly said he didn’t look too happy when she saw him earlier. Karen said he almost sent Mary-Beth flying he marched off so fast.”

“Why’s that my fault?”

“They said he was fine ‘til he spoke with you.”

“What hae ye said tae Mac, Williamson?” Davey grabbed him by the lapels and shook him. “Ye talkin’ shite aboot us?”

“What are you talkin’ about?” he growled, shoving the younger brother off him.

“Th’ two o’ ye hae bin actin’ weird ever since ye got back fae scoutin’ New Austin! Dunnae lie!” The infamous vein was popping in his neck. Other members of the gang stopped their chores to see who picked the latest fight with the honey badger brothers - and not for the first time, found Bill on the receiving end.

“I don’t know what you mean.” His heart fluttered nervously in his chest as he caught the eyes of onlookers. He couldn’t lose this gang - the tribe of Van der Linde’s meant more to him than his life ever had. He could live with the taunts of being slow and dimwitted, but not this. Not something so fresh and vulnerable as the truth. “Davey,” he added quietly. “I would never talk shit about neither you Callender boys. Anything I have to say, I’ll say to your faces-”

“What secret are you sharin’ then, Williamson? Cuz we never keep anythin’ fae t’other.”

After digging around camp, he finally finds Arthur resting on the shore, twitching the fishing rod and cursing the lack of bites. Suddenly, he picks up a large stone and lobs it into the water, his throw too dull to skip it as it plops under the surface with a large splash.

“Ar-Arthur?”

His head snaps around, blue eyes still blazing as he scoffs. “Bill.”

“Arthur, I’m- I’m real sorry.”

“What for now?” he grunts, reeling in the line impatiently.

“About Sonny. The feller in the swamp?"

“You know a momma gator eats her babies? My momma never ate no baby…  Your momma ever ate a baby?”

“He was…" Bill forces a laugh, trying to reduce the tension in his shoulders, before sighing heavily. "I'm sorry. It was none of my business. I didn't expect you to… to take it like you did. An' for that I'm real sorry."

"How else was I s'posed to take it?"

"Shit, Morgan, I don't know!"

"Just how the hell you meet that creep anyway?" he demands, turning to face him as he puts his rod away.

"Same way as you! I was just passin' by-"

"Same way as me?" He scoffs again, spitting over his shoulder. "Yer a damn liar, Williamson. How'd you meet him? Really?"

"What? I can't speak to strangers now?"

Arthur's eyes flash. "If you met him the same way I did, you'd have a lump the size of an egg under your hat."

He doesn't know what to say to that. The sad, embarrassed shake of his head tells him there wasn't a reply worth making. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I didn't know that he'd- I thought that you'd- that it was-"

"I know what you thought." He sighs heavily, turning to watch the sun set under the water. "At least I'm alive, I s'pose. Better'n bein' found by you.”

“I’m gonna go back, teach him a lesson for messin’ with yer when you didn’t- well. When you wasn’t-”

“I already fed him to the gators,” states Arthur, his mouth twisting like the words taste sour on his tongue. “I… I can’t say I regret it. Maybe I was too hasty-”

“He was a strange one, Morgan. No one will miss him.”

“Yeah, well, it also didn’t feel enough.” The glint in his eye is simmering now. Not an infuriated bull but a snake sizing up its victim - and then he takes a deep breath. “I shoulda taken him up to the Skinners, but they’d’ve recruited the bastard most likely...”

“I ain’t gonna say nothin’ to no one. ‘Bout all this?” Arthur nods in agreement. “An’... I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about… y’know.”

“I know. I know, Bill.” A weight lifts off his chest as the blond pats his shoulder on his way past. “Ain’t nobody’s business but ours. Stay safe, Williamson.”

[thompsborn]

did someone say “sneak peak for a thompsborn one shot that’s in the works”? no? well here u go anyway!!

TW: it isn’t super HEAVY heavy, but this sneak peak does include hints towards aggressive/abusive parenting, as well as a mention of a tight grip on a shoulder that will likely bruise

���

They meet when they’re six years old.

“Mr. Osborn,” Harrison Thompson greets, dressed up in his finest suit with his facial hair clean shaven and his smile wide. He’s got a hand on Eugene’s shoulder, a gesture that looks fatherly but carries the weight of a threat, silently says that Eugene is not to move. “This is quite the event. I can’t thank you enough for inviting us.”

Norman Osborn is all sharp eyes and a round face and a grin that spells trouble. He shakes Harrison’s hand with purpose as he replies, “I’m honored you decided to attend. Please, introduce me to your stunning family.”

With a turn of the lips that only a master at manipulation is capable of, Harrison ducks his head in some kind of nod, squeezes Eugene’s shoulder when he does so. “This is my wife, Rosie,” he says pleasantly, uses his free hand to gesture to his left, where Rosie Thompson politely smiles. “This is our oldest, Eugene,” he goes on, nodding down at his son and subtly curling his fingers into the space between Eugene’s collarbone and the top of his shoulder, an unspoken order for Eugene not to speak. Even at six, Eugene knows better than to wince at the dull pain his father’s actions bring, and instead offers a toothy grin and a wave when Norman nods at him. “And this,” Harrison goes on, now gesturing to the two year old holding Rosie’s hand, “is our youngest, Jesse.”

“Oh, what an angel,” Norman coos to Jesse, who is too shy to do much more than widen her eyes at him before hiding behind her mother’s legs. For a moment, blatant annoyance crosses Norman’s features, but he schools himself quickly, plasters on a smile once more, like nothing happened. Eugene has seen his father do the same thing on many occasions, when they’re in public and he gets mad but has to pretend he isn’t until they get home. The similarity makes Eugene shift in mild discomfort, though he stills when his father squeezes his shoulder again, hard enough that there may be a bruise come sunrise, and he remains still when Norman leans down at the waist to meet his eyes. “Hello, Eugene,” Norman greets, toothy grin looking menacing in a way that is only easy to detect up close. “It’s lovely to meet you. Tell me, how old are you?”

For a moment, Eugene says nothing, because Harrison has made it clear that he wants his son to keep quiet, but when he remains silent for a solid thirty seconds, Harrison squeezes Eugene’s shoulder again, harder this time—it’s definitely going to bruise, and it’s almost impossible to suppress the urge to wince. “Be polite,” Harrison scolds, in a mildly aggravated tone that sounds more like a gentle yet firm reminder to anyone passing by. “Answer his question, Gene.”

“I’m—I’m six years old, sir,” Eugene says.

Norman nods slowly, curiously. “Same age as my son, then,” he comments, almost off handedly, as he stands up tall once more, straightens out his suit jacket and turns his head to the left to call out, “Emily!” Only a moment or two later, a woman approaches them, leading a young boy by the hand as they seem to appear from the crowd of other attendees of the Oscorp holiday event. “This is my wife,” Norman tells the Thompson’s, waving a hand to indicate the woman coming to a stop by his side. He then looks to the boy, who is an inch or two shorter than Eugene, with black hair falling across his forehead and wide, uncertain blue eyes glancing around curiously. “This is my son, Harry,” Norman tells them. “Harry, this is the Thompson family and their son, Eugene. Say hello, Harry.”

Harry Osborn looks much more like his mother than he does his father, gentle and kind and genuine as he shyly waves his free hand and murmurs a quiet little, “Hi.”

“Don’t be so shy, Harry,” Norman says sternly. Harry frowns, ducks his head. Eugene tries to offer him a little smile to make him feel better, but Harry doesn’t see it. “Introduce yourself properly.”

“Hello,” Harry says, voice louder, but tone not as steady. “’m Harry Osborn. S’nice t’meet you.”

There’s that twist to Harrison’s lips, something that’s a lot like a smile but always makes Eugene nervous, like he’s done something wrong but can’t figure out what, as he crouches down and lightly pushes Eugene in the direction of Emily and Harry. “I’m sure you two would make great friends,” the man says, in a way that makes it clear it isn’t a suggestion. He stands up, looks to Rosie with something expectant in his eyes, until Rosie is carefully nudging Jesse forward, until Jesse gets the hint and lets go of her mother’s hand in order to grab her brother’s instead. “If it’s alright with Miss Emily,” Harrison says, with the fake tone of sweetness that he puts on in public places, the façade of a loving father that doesn’t exist, “then maybe you can go hang out with her and Harry, huh? How does that sound, Gene?”

It’s not really a question. Eugene knows that. He looks up at Emily with wide eyes, tightens his hold on Jesse’s hand—always holds on tight, because he accidently let go in a grocery store once and they couldn’t find her for ten minutes, and, oh, his father was mad about that—and softly asks, “Miss Emily? Could, um… could me and Jesse stay with you, please?”

Emily smiles, a real one, a kind one, the same kind that Rosie gives Eugene when his father isn’t home, and she nods her head with a simple, “Of course you can, Eugene. We have some toys set up in the corner, for all of the kids. Why don’t we go over there so you guys can play?”

Eugene turns his head, looks up at his father, knows better than to walk away without permission first. Harrison seems pleased by this, almost looks proud, but not in the way a parent might be proud of their child learning the alphabet or bringing home all A’s. Rather, he looks proud in the way a pet owner would be of a dog that’s learned a new trick, of a scientist or an engineer successfully programming an AI or a bot to follow a command. Eugene mistakes this look as some kind of love, can’t help but wear a giddy sort of smile when Harrison nods at him and says, “Go ahead, Gene. Listen to Miss Emily, alright?”

“Okay!” Eugene chirps, and his excitement is enough to draw Jesse out of her shy shell, just a bit, as she looks up at her older brother with some kind of awe-filled admiration and giggles at him. In his burst of happiness, he forgets to tell his father thank you, something that will surely come back to make him regret it later, but in the moment, he just holds Jesse’s hand and follows after Emily and Harry as she leads the three kids to the corner of the room, where the little play area is set up. There’s not a whole lot there, just a large, colorful carpet and a bin full of various types of toys meant for children of various ages.

Jesse refuses to let go of Eugene’s hand for at least ten minutes, still so shy despite being two years of age, taking much longer to warm up to people than her brother had been at two years old. It isn’t until Eugene finds a talking little elephant toy that Jesse relaxes a bit, taking the toy in both hands and blowing a raspberry at it, then laughing when she squeezes the stomach and it sings a little song. Emily approaches the two of them, carefully sits on the floor besides Jesse with her legs tucked beneath her, smoothing out her dress before asking Jesse questions about the elephant, drawing her attention. Eugene hovers for a second, as protective of his sister as he has been since the day she was born, but deems Emily nice enough to crawl over to where Harry is sitting and placing wooden blocks on top of each other carefully.

“What’re you buildin’?” Eugene asks, looking at the unfinished structure with intrigue.

Harry hesitates for a second, then adds another block and answers, “A castle.”

Excitedly, Eugene leans forward, examines it more closely. “What kinda castle is it?”

“Um.” Harry seems confused by that, nose scrunching up his pudgy little face. “A big one?”

The way he says it makes Eugene giggle lightly, leaning back on his haunches and shaking his head a bit. “No, silly! I mean, um—I was—I was watchin’ this show with my mama, and they were talkin’ ‘bout castles, and all the diff’rent kinds of ‘em. Like, the, um—the m… midveil… mid—midieval! Midieval castles, and how there are, um… four? I think it was four kinds of medieval castles, but I don’t—I don’t really ‘member what the names of ‘em were.”

“Oh.” Harry looks thoughtful for a long moment, picking up another block—a bright red painted cone shape—and looking at it while he seems to consider his thoughts. Then, he places the cone on top of what looks like a wall of black rectangular blocks and nods to himself, decidedly saying, “It’s a Harry Castle.”

“I don’t think that was one’a the ones on the show,” Eugene says, a small frown on his face.

Harry shrugs. “That’s okay. It’s a new kinda castle. It’s my castle.”

Eugene falters at that, only to brighten a moment later. “Does your castle have a dragon in it?”

The face Harry makes at him is comically offended. “Of course it has a dragon! His name is Jeremy and I taught ‘im how to play fetch. Kinda like a puppy, but—but Jeremy’s a dragon. Obviously.”

“That’s so cool,” Eugene breathes, eyes wide with wonder. “Can I help?”

For a long moment, Harry squints at Eugene, likely sizing him up, deciding if he can trust him, before his face breaks out in a blinding grin and he holds a block out happily. “Then it can be a Harry and a Eugene castle,” he says.

Eugene takes the block with a wide smile of his own. “It’s gonna be the best castle ever.”

[ton-e]

OKAY but I kind of love the thought of Stark and Potts being old acquaintances in college?? Just a small idea I've thought about but-

They meet in Harvard. She remembers, but he doesn't seem to. It's not a good time for either of them, so Potts doesn't blame him entirely.

LOOK I'm just gonna say it

It's very obvious Potts has a thing with work. Where she let's her job work her over instead of the other way around. She's a self-made woman, she's on her own, and she's deathly terrified of disappointing her parents even if they let her know that's all she ever did.

Her father doesn't believe in her, of course. He doesn't hit her, he's never hit her, but he never had to. His words hurt more. He gives her a condescending smile that feels sharper than her mother's backhand.

Her mother, who did hit her. Her mother's weak like that.

" I give you one week."

Her mother married in riches. When Potts tells her she wants to go to university, she gets a laugh in the face and cigarette smoke in her eyes. "Why be a CEO when you can just marry one, dummy?"

Then, the money come. And she's suddenly worthy of the scraps of attention they dangled in her face for so long. It hurts, and it's terrible, because she knows without the money from college they wouldn't even spit on her if she was on fire.

She's not the boy they wanted, after all.

The circumstance of their meeting is less than savory, and it makes bile prickle at her tongue when she remembers.

Potts is pressured by her mother to attend some college party that she doesn't find enticing, because getting blackout wasted and high may be fun for some, but it's not her scene. Really, she'd rather break her leg than go on that scene. But her mother's friend happens to have a spoiled brat of a daughter whose mother will implode if her precious baby girl is not worshipped and guarded by EVERYONE

"Spent time with the girl, Virginia. Maybe you'll learn a thing from her. " She looks at the girl, Sunset's her name, ironically, who helps some washed-up quarterback roofie a freshman and thinks, "I'd rather fucking die. " The "ship of their friendship" sinks with her report to the police and dean. Potts sneers 'Good riddance.'

She finds the guy they were trying to roofie is Stark. Tony Stark. The heir of the Stark conglomerate, the Titan's son, the poster child for everything wrong with college but hopeful for the youth. She helps him to the dorms because Stark's sweet, more sensitive than people realize, and its heartbreaking that her kindness is such a marvelous but foreign concept for him.

He's a kid, it's the detail that truly pierces her heart to acknowledge, a kid theusted in a territory where he's defenseless, with no one to guard or protect him. He's less than 19, a bit younger than her, but he falls heavy on Pott's much smaller body, shaking with effort as she carries him to his door room.

"I miss my mamma, " something warm simmers in her chest at hearing that. Perhaps something so endearing shouldn't be said with that deep, rich voice, warm and molten and a tad bit scratchy, yet Potts can't help but find it adorable. "And my dad. Voglio andare a casa. "

"I'm sure Mr. Stark misses you too." Potts, in truth, thinks Howard Stark is more of an asshole than the anatomical term, but she keeps that in. But it seemed like the more compassionate, - more appropriate, really, thing to say.

Stark either snorts, scoffs, or makes a combination of the two noises. "Was talkin' 'bout Nick."

She doesn't know who that is, but she'd like to meet him one day. Stark's soft, muddled ramblings following them to the dorm rooms, make him sound like a good man, and she needs more of those in her life.

For a moment, her body freezes, when Stark atops and croaches down to her level, thinking he's aiming for her lips. Stark leans in to kiss her on the cheek and thanks her for not hurting him.

Potts wants to fight the world.

Later that week, a rumor that she slept with Tony Stark breaks in the university and the girls give her HELL. Suddenly, her clothes go burning, her food goes missing, her homework and assignments are victims of "Accidents". Nothing is to be done because the girls cry almost immediately in presence of authority and Pott's the bad guy at the end. (Pepper always strikes me as the person who got bullied in High School strangely???)

She's locked out of the dorm room one night, when it's cold as all hell, she's hungry, and she has her big breakout economic paper to work on. Her key doesn't work because it's a junk copy they replaced without her knowledge. The giggles bleeding through the door fill her with red blinding and she stomps off in the science lab to sleep.

She calls her father about it and gets an exhausted sigh. " Virginia. Don't call me for little girl problems. " Then hangs up without hesitancy, not a drop of concern, and Potts hates herself for it when tears roll on her cheeks because as her mother puts it, "Big Girls don't cry. We only cry when we break our necks, or if someone's dying." She's pretty close on the latter, so she thinks it's fair.

Stark finds her like that, shivering and sobbing on a dirty lab floor and hugs her like shes his lifeline. He apologizes like a mantra, promises that it'll be okay, and Potts nods, but her mind says ' I don't believe you.'

He brings Potts to his dorm, and decides to solve the problem no one else would.

Rhodes, Stark's friend from MIT, who does not care he's from an entire different college than them, instantly loves her and is furious on her behalf. He reminds Potts of the knight in shining armor breaking free from the fantasy books she would read as a child when no one else would, which makes him flush at the praise, and elbows Stark in the ribcage when he gushes about him.

She mistook Happy for a security guard at first, which makes both Rhodes and Stark howl, but the senior just laughs and doesn't let her go to sleep without eating. Stark helps her on her project with only mild shouting at Rhodes when he warns that they'll go into a coffee addiction at this point.

It's nice. They're nice. Their kindness keeps her going even if she knows it's more guilt.

The thing is, it's not just guilt.

They start to hang around her more, start to keep her company, invite her over to their dormroom which quickly becomes her favorite spot to be. They make her so happy she doesn't notice her parents haven't called her once, and, in her glee, she realizes she doesn't care.

Friendship is like honey. It tends to attract some flies.

Potts is pushed into the wall and she grinds her teeth together so she wouldn't wince because she isn't gonna give them the satisfaction. Push came to shove and she wants to shove back, - if she knew that fighting back meant all her progress would be gone because college is okay with harassment but not necessary violence.

The sorority girls call her everything under the sun and she fights back with words until she gives up once she realizes that it only entertains them and adds fuel to fire.

When she looks up finally, she sees the familiar shade of red of a MIT hoodie and Rhodes nonchalantly standing in front of her. Happy's not too many feet away, eyebrow arched comically high, hand prompted on his hip, and holding a camera in the other.

"Hit her again," Rhodes challanges them, stony faced, fearless and bold and DARING. He doesn't sound angry, that's the scariest part. He sounds gravely calm. "Call her what you did a minute ago. Have at it. I dare you. Bitch."

Her bullies break into something weak, something teary-eyed and fearful, pathetic and small. Rhodes says "that's what I thought " and helps her away.

All of the girls lose their scholarships the next day and Stark won't say anything, but he can't stop smiling.

Their roads meet crossed ends at the end of her graduation, - He goes back to MIT after Howard, the only reason Stark attends what the "smartest man in America" considers a low level school, cracks and gives him funding again.

They're her boys, - she remembers them as such, and they still stay that way, be it because they're phantoms in the snapshots of her life or standing just a few pinches of distant from her.

Years flow like a river in the course of time, she realizes, not at all slow, because they're not touched by aging. Happy may have less hair, but his smile is as blinding as ever and his snarky comments stay playful on the tip of his tongue. "He may be the smartest man in the world, but let me tell you, he's got the shittiest memory. Public bathroom level."

It takes exactly a week before Rhodes recognizes her. His surprise doesn't show, but his happiness does, and that's all that Potts needs. She smiles wider than normal when they banter like they used, regaining the footing of two teenagers with bright futures and too much sarcasm for safety.

"Dum-E! Come meet your mama. I can't wait to tell you how much he's gushed about you for the past decade. It's so embarrassing, I can't wait-"

She loves Maria the minute they meet. She's the mother Potts never had, the parent she should have gotten, because everyone deserves a Maria Stark in their life and she'll put that in stone. "Thank you for caring about my boy, '' she smiles gently at Potts as she wraps a blanket around her shoulders in a late all-nighter at SI, where she's droppy, and all she wants to do is dream. "You're a strong one. It can be rotten work."

Potts hums. "Not for me."

It's a random day, when the coin drops for Stark. He just freezes after Potts drops some documents on his desk with a small smile and a "Do you still play D&D on Saturday's?"

Long minutes pass as Potts walks off. She hears a "WAIT A FUCKING SECOND" sneaking through the half-closed door of Stark's office and she can't help but cackle.

[vanchlo]

The Firsts / #3 “The First Time Together Together”

*not my gif*

---> NEXT BLURB: November 2nd, hopefully.

---> READ BLURB #2

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST          

READ ON WATTPAD

-> SHOULD I CREATE A TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES? IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED, LET ME KNOW! :)

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

bold: Harry’s texts

italics: Becky’s texts

WARNINGS: None really

WORD COUNT: 4.6k words

SONG: Our House by Crosby, Nash, Stills, and Young (CLICK TO LISTEN)

                          * SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

“Y’know what, Becks?”

“Hmm, Harry?” I hum in reply, moving my head a few inches this way, and another few inches that way until I hear the boom-boom of his heart under my ear.

“Wish I could fall asleep next t’ you ev’ry night, even if . . ya nag at me,” he mumbles, the words becoming slower and softer with every breath of his.

I wish I could fall asleep smiling next to you, and with your heartbeat under my ear too, Harry.

Me too.

“I am, you know.”

“What?”

“Yours.”

- Tara and Willow, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

*

“I’ve seen you dress up before and you looked nice, but God, you look nice nice today.” 

“How many drinks have ya already t’night?” he chuckles, quirking an eyebrow whilst sipping from his whiskey glass. His long, bubblegum lips spread into a proud smile, wet from the brown liquid that swims around the ice cubes in his glass. 

“None!” I insist and he chuckles again, the sound muffled by the rim of his glass that returns to his lips. 

“Sure, babe,” Harry titters, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat lit by the sun. “‘s okay if ya have. I dunno how I coulda gotten thru’ all that shit in this heat without a few.” 

I almost shrug my shoulders, unsure of what to say to that, but I don’t get the chance to think on it before he takes my hand to lead us away from the gift table. 

“C’mon, I dunno how many mo’ people I can talk t’ and introduce who I bloody am befo’ I go mad,” he wheezes with a shake of his head, downing the rest of his drink. “Beats me how they can’t know who tha best man ‘s, seein’ ‘ve known tha groom most o’ me life and his.” 

“Oh no, is Harry’s big head shrinking now?” I joke, my lips growing to kiss my cheeks when he turns to dramatically roll his eyes at me. 

“Hush, you. Ya want sumthin’ t’ drink? ‘s a free bar, but y’know, only tha basic stuff.” 

“I want my boyfriend back, is what,” I whine, grabbing hold of the front of his blazer and into my arms. A dimple falls into his cheek, and then into his other as he smiles at me. 

“Ya do have me back, babe. What’re you talkin’ ‘bout? Tha ceremony ‘s over, and now ‘s time fer all tha fun.” 

“But you don’t get to sit with me at dinner,” I whimper, my face falling into a smushed assortment of lines. He sighs above me and shakes his head of curls at me, his haircut the other day leaving them how he likes them, short. 

“Oh, stop it. We’ve gone over this, Becks, you’ll be sittin’ with Rose. My’ and Jeanie put you there fer a reason, since I know yer not familiar with many others here. Jus’ be happy me mum and sista couldn’t make it,” he teases against my cheek, the smell of the honey whiskey ghosting over my lips. 

“Don’t say it like I don’t like them, you know I do.” 

“I know, ‘m kiddin’ ‘round,” he titters, sponging a kiss to my temple before he pulls away. I almost get lost in those bright greens, but I’m roused when he brushes his thumb across my cheek. “‘ll be right back. Don’t get all sad now that ‘m leavin’ you fer a sec, my li’l lost puppy.” 

“Shut up, would you?” I mutter with creased cheeks, watching him walk up to the bar in his black suit. His voice floats over to me as the image of his brown curls shrinks from view, replaced by the fairy lights sparkling around us. Pulling at the scoop neck of my scarlet dress, I scan the covered space and the bodies meandering around it, talking. 

“Here’s a White Zinfandel, I dunno what else d’ya want,” a voice says from behind me. I don’t need to look to see who it is, but I do by habit and am met with a tan hand full of rings holding out a glass of pink wine to me. 

“Oh, thanks.” 

“Welcome,” Harry returns, tapping a finger against his once again full whiskey glass, making a clinking noise. “Aw, fook. They’re startin’ speeches already, I betta go. ‘ll see you soon, love. Wish me luck,” he rushes, surprising me with a kiss to the lips and a pat to my back. 

“Luck!” I call after him, laughing when he looks back at me with a comically confused look whilst taking a glug from his glass for good measure. 

“Well, shit, what d’ya even say at these things?” he blubbers from the stage a few moments later, cheeks red and dimpled. With aching cheeks from smiling, I sip at my glass of wine while watching him stumble to find his speech in a pocket of his onyx black suit. 

“Oh, here tha bloody thing ‘s,” Harry chuckles, and the crowd echoes him. “Myles, Myles, Myles. Where do I even start with you, ya git? Known ya too bloody long, I reckon. Fookin’ hell, known ya fer fifteen years too long, ‘d say,” he begins, and the guests hang onto his every word as do I. “We’ve sure been thru’ loads o’ shit t’getha, and here ya are, married. God, ya always hafta do ev’rything befo’ me, dontch’u?” 

The sweet wine lingers on my lips as my laugh blends into the rest of those around me while Harry shakes his head, taking a drink break to sip from his glass. 

“We went t’ school t’getha, law school t’getha, and started a bloody lawfirm t’getha t’ top it all off. Somehow, ‘s still standin’ and we’re doin’ great. I know it wouldn’t be if it weren’t fer you . . Reckon neitha would I, hope y’know,” he continues, and my eyes follow his to where Myles stands at the front of the crowd with his new wife on his arm. An emphasis sits in his eyes that goes unmatched until I find Harry’s again and the few tears that sit in them, drowning in the gratefulness and emotion that I recognize bittersweetly. “Ya’ve go’mme thru’ mo’ shit than I could ever thank you fer, and you’ve been me rock when mine was missin.’” 

The wine sits on my tongue sourly when I hear that and see his sad smile, and then his two second glance to me that’s gone when I blink. The rest of his best man’s speech goes on without a hitch, and the crowd loves him. But, God, they don’t as much as I do, I think whilst admiring my favorite person in the entire world, and just how fucking fine he looks in a tux. Harry leads a cheers with his whiskey glass raised to the ceiling, and I join him as my eyes stay glued to the man whose bowtie sits unraveled at his neck. The man whose cheeks shine with a summer glow and absence of facial hair, and his trademark curls combed into a quiff that this summer day couldn’t even bother. 

Six months in, and the butterflies still return when he steps off the stage, and his alcohol-reddened cheeks dimple with the smile that he sends to me. 

“Can I have this dance, miss?” he asks, setting down his whiskey next to my wine. 

“Of course. I could never turn down a dance from the best man, I’m sure every other lady here would die for one.”

“Yer so cheesy, Becks, even mo’ so than me sumtimes,” Harry remarks, taking my hand in his and leading me to the dance floor in the middle of the outdoor space. “I love ya fer it, y’know.” 

“Good, you better,” I almost laugh, letting him guide my hands to his shoulders as he places his on my waist. 

“Maybe it’ll be us havin’ tha first dance at one o’ these sumday soon, Becks. Have ya thought ‘bout me question yet, hmm?”

“I dunno,” I giggle against the warmth of his neck after nuzzling close to him. His sigh tickles my temple that he soothes with the gentlest of pecks. 

“I know my answer.” 

“And what’s that?” I wonder aloud, swaying to the song with him, ever so effortlessly. Somehow, anything with him feels that way. 

“Wouldn’t you like t’ know.” 

“Harry!” I exclaim, leaving the safety of his neck to find his giggling lips. 

“What? That’s whatcha get when ya won’t answer me question.” 

A scoff leaves my lips, and he only giggles harder until it shrinks away to be replaced by his fingers in my hair ever so softly. 

“I think Styles would sound good on you, Becks,” he hums, thumb ghosting over my birthmark as his eyes explore me. 

“How many drinks have you had today?”

“Doesn’t matta. I feel that way sober even,” he insists, those greens at last returning to me. The slightest of curls comes to his lips and something I can’t quite place blossoms in his eyes. “Rebecca Styles, it sounds perfect. Dontchu think, babe?”

“Harry, it’s only been six months-.” 

“In a week and a half, I know, Becks,” he interrupts softly, biting at his lip habitually. “Jus’ a thought. Whenever ya have that answer fo’ me, lemme know,” he whispers against my ear, sending goosebumps down my spine. 

Oh, but I think I do, Harry.

+

“Oooooookay, that’s enough for you, mister. Come on, let’s get you to bed already.

“Becks, no. ‘m fine, I promise you. I don’t wanna go t’ bed yet, babe,” he whines. The dark liquid sloshes around in the cup he holds, threatening to spill over the sides. 

“Harry, you’re going to spill. C’mon, we’re both spent. Let’s go to bed,” I insist, taking the half-full wine glass from his hand and setting it down on the wooden coffee table. 

“Fine, mum,” he mumbles, getting to his feet shakily. Tugging on his arm some more, I slowly thread him through the space between the sofa and table. 

“Come on then, son. If you’re gonna act like a child, I’ll treat you like one,” I laugh, shortly enjoying the fake laugh he gives me. The steps are slow, and so is getting him ready for bed, and into it, is even more so. 

“Why’re you laughin’ at me?” he whimpers as I pull the covers up his shoulders before sliding under them myself. 

“Because you’re kind of pathetic.” 

“Hey, be nice t’ me. I didn’t mean t’ get all buzzed t’night,” Harry complains, taking my hand and pulling me over, until my head is on his shoulder. 

“Oh, so what do you call the five glasses of wine you had at your sister’s and the other two you snuck once we got home? I thought you swore off alcohol the other day when you woke up with a hangover after the wedding.”

He only sighs and closes his eyes, his warm rings molding against the round of my shoulder. The rhythm of his breaths attempts to whisk me off into my dreams already, a pair of leggings I’d left at his and my favourite t-shirt of his swallowing my top. 

“Y’know what, Becks?”

“Hmm, Harry?” I hum in reply, moving my head a few inches this way, and another few inches that way until I hear the boom-boom of his heart under my ear. 

“Wish I could fall asleep next t’ you ev’ry night, even if . . ya nag at me,” he mumbles, the words becoming slower and softer with every breath of his. 

I wish I could fall asleep smiling next to you, and with your heartbeat under my ear too, Harry. 

Me too.

+

The chatter fills my ears in a stable hum, hitting pitch and falling low at times, only to flutter between the two again, and again. Shortly, it all falls away when the door closes to hush the room, but the volume in my heart only grows louder. The question that shouts into the void within my chest repeats itself for the next five minutes, until the frosted glass door opens and spits him out. Everybody gives him a hard time for being late, and only do I relax when he meets my eyes with a soft smile, at last. I get a wink before he sits down at the table across from me, feeling a thousand miles away from me. Within a few moments, and pressing the keys of my laptop, he isn’t, anymore. 

Late much?

it was the traffic, it was terrible

You know you use that excuse much too often, Harry, especially for your own meeting

i know, you only tell me all of the time babe ;) 

oh but hey, i gotta tell u. i’ve been listening to that one band some more that you rec’d. holy shit are they good. hippocampus was it?goofy name but they’ve got some tunes. i think im likin Bambi best rn. 

No way, that’s my favorite of theirs! Yes, I’m soooo happy you’reliking them!!!!! 

told you i’d get to them eventually babe. just wish it hadn’t takenme so long now. wow! 

I told you!!!

there ya are again lovin to tell me ya told me so haha 

Wow, it’s like I know you or something

wow its like i knew youd like vampire weekend or someting. ok stop it with the texts i really gotta concentrate here. im supposed to be your boss

Yeah, you’re doing a great job of that, sir. Showing up late to a meeting. Being  hungover at work. Shall I continue, boss?

hush, you. could easily make you me assistant again 

You wanna bet? Myles and Rose like me too much that let that happen

I do wanna bet. keep talkin babe and youre payin for lunch 2day

Rude 

i learned from the best 

Quietly scoffing, I lift my eyes to find the smirking pair waiting for me. Harry stifles a laugh with his fist against his smirking lips, dimples showing loudly. He winks quickly at me before turning his head to listen to Myles, only making me miss him all the more. A notification bubble on my screen catches my attention, and makes my smile grow all the wider. 

love you my little shit Xxxxxxxx

+

I think you’re … Oh my god, Harry. Are you falling asleep? At a meeting?!

am not

Are too!

used the wrong ‘to,’ Becks

Did not!

not fun bein corrected all the time now is it, ms. grammar police?

Rude

hell is that your response to anything that doesnt go your way, brat? 

I guess somebody doesnt get their dick sucked tonight after all

dont be fuckin rude

Not fun being called rude, now is it?

your gonna be the death of me, holte. swear it

It’s you’re, has FRIENDS taught you nothing, or have I?

nah i fuckin tune out when you start to nag you should know this by now babe

Yeah well, I think a mastered lawyer such as yourself with his own lawfirm should know when to use the different yours 

ya well, i think the girlfriend should know when to stop before she doesnt get to sleep over at the boyfriend’s tonight

You’re rude

I learned from the best

Harry Edward!

dont you push it rebecca ann 

Ugh, I want to hate you sometimes

its settled. no sexy time for you tonight

Harry! I got new lingerie! 

only kidding baby ;) bring the lingerie plz i cant wait to see you in it, my pretty girl 

Yes, sir ;) 

good girl

+

The halls are much too quiet with The Big Four in a meeting this morning, about what, I don’t recall. It still stings to pass Jennings in the hall, and things are still awkward between him and Harry I’ve noticed, but all he told me was that he had handled it. What he meant by that, I don’t know, but all I know is now, it’s The Big Three - Myles, Harry, and Rose, and no longer The Four. Rose made junior partner last month and the celebration still hadn’t ended from it, but we all could see the fake smile Jennings slapped on and continues to. Like Harry and Myles, she still takes cases and argues them, but now, she's more involved with the nitty gritty details of the firm, and seems to be loving it. Wedding planning, and all. I can only wish to be as on top of it as she is like that one day. 

My movements are slow and calculated as I close my laptop, and check my appearance in the mirror. Adjusting my cream blouse underneath the black suit, I take deep breaths, but they just don’t stick. I set my iPhone down on the desk, but not before checking my home screen. Nothing new, just as it was five minutes ago when I last checked. Okay, then, I think before stepping into the hall and closing my door behind me. 

The new, large clock in the lobby dongs softly through the halls, announcing nine o’clock. It’s time. Despite my best efforts, I glance around corners and over my shoulder, looking for him, but he’s nowhere to be found. 

Great. 

Even better. 

Knock knock!

“Oh, come in, please,” the voice behind the door says, bringing me forth. “Hey, Becky. Right on time, thanks.” 

“Welcome, Myles. Where’s that business partner of yours?” I softly laugh, hoping I can diffuse the tension, if only somehow. The question flew from my lips the moment I stepped into his office and noticed that we’re alone. 

“Hmm, not sure. I just saw him a few minutes ago after our meeting finished. It beats me. Shouldn’t the girlfriend know?” he jokes wryly, moving around items on his desk. 

“God, I wish. Sometimes, I’m no better. I haven’t spoken to him yet this morning,” I offer, smoothing down the back of my skirt and take a seat in front of his desk.

“Yeah, known him for I dunno how long, and I couldn’t tell you where he’s run off to. Oh, really? Didn’t carpool together with his early meeting today?” 

“Talkin’ ‘bout me, are you?” somebody voices. Both of our heads turn to behind me to watch Harry walk in, holding a Queen mug, and his laptop under his arm. 

“Yeah, wondering why you’re always late, mate.” 

“Line fer coffee was long in tha break room,” he shrugs, as if it’s a top tier excuse. “Hey, my love,” Harry coos with a smile to me, bending down to press his lips to mine. I almost giggle against his, but my widening eyes do all of the talking when he pulls away. 

His quirked eyebrows do his talking as his dimples glow on his face. Words almost leave his wondering lips but they’re interrupted by Myles excusing himself to take a call. 

“What’s that look fer?” Harry wheezes at last, sipping from his mug before finding a coaster to set it down on. 

“Since when do we kiss in front of people we work with?” I giggle nervously, wondering when the heat will ever leave my cheeks now. 

“‘s jus’ Myles, babe. He doesn’t give a shit. I reckon he has t’ have a bit o’ understandin’ afta how many times ‘ve griped over how much o’ a pain in tha arse it can be fer us t’ keep it professional ‘round tha firm,” he explains, swiftling undoing the one button on his pinstriped pecan colored blazer. 

“Oh,” is all I say, looking around the office absentmindedly while my mind whirs. 

“Sorry, I didn’t see yer texts ‘til now. Busy meetin’ this mornin,’ but we got loads done luckily,” he says, the sound of his velvet black boots soft on the tiling, blending into the sounds of the firm, as I call it. “Hmm, I liked tha one song ya sent me from Cage tha Elephant, so ‘ll hafta give this one a try, too. Thanks, babe.” 

“Mmmhmm,” I hum, distractedly. My chin falls into my hand and the pastel purple of my nailpolish blurs in front of me. 

“Alright there? Not still worryin’ ‘bout yer review inna few, are you, Becks? I told ya you’ll do great, y’know I have nuthin’ bad t’ say ‘bout how yer doin.’ ‘Course I hafta come up with sumthin’ t’ work on with you, but that’s jus’ ‘cause I can’t avoid it.”

“What?” I respond quickly, looking up to find his squinty eyes at me. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just nervewracking.” 

“‘s jus’ Myles, bug. There’s nuthin’ t’ worry ‘bout, I already told him how ya’ve been doin,’ and winnin’ last week’s case t’getha, t’ top it off,” he remarks with a glow in his voice. 

Nodding, the words poise to jump from my lips, but just then the door opens, “Sorry about that, let’s get started now that Harry’s made his fashionably late arrival, like always.” 

“Hey, watch it, My.’ Seems yer no betta,” Harry jests, fingers decorated with rings coursing through his short curls. 

“I actually had a good excuse, mind you,” Myles says, falling into the chair behind his desk. 

“God, it’s like my first interview all over again. Harry’s late and you’re both arguing like an old, married couple,” I joke with a small laugh, crossing my ankles and folding my hands. 

“Sure are,” Harry agrees aloud with a loud air kiss to Myles, scooching his chair towards the desk with a warm smile sent my way. 

“So, Becky,” Myles begins, pulling out a stapled document that somehow embeds fear into my bones, quickly ignoring the assurances Harry has showered me with. “Harry’s been telling me that you’re doing great, and things are going well six months in.” 

“Yes, very well, actually. Learnin’ loads,” Harry adds in, leaning back in the twin office chair while a hand gets lost in his hair, per usual. 

“So I’ve heard. How are things going in your opinion, Becky?”

“Thank you, Myles,” I say, trying not to laugh as the two men exchange annoyed looks. “I’m really happy here and like Harry said, I’m learning lots. I couldn’t have asked for a better teacher than him.” 

“I dunno if I agree with that,” Myles quips and my humorous boyfriend shakes his head with a perturbed sigh. “I’m joking, Hare, and Becky, I’m very glad to hear that. We’re all very happy to have you here and part of the team. Somebody, especially.” 

“Would ya shuddup, My’?” Harry groans with a click of his tongue, but when I meet his eyes, he’s anything but annoyed with the sunshine he sends my way.

+

“Told ya yer review’d go great, babe. Ya should listen t’ me mo.’” 

“Would you hush?” I say. “Of course you’d say that.” 

“What’s that s’posed t’ mean?” Harry asks, all confused. 

“You just have a big head, that’s all,” I answer, opening the car door and stepping out into the humid garage. 

“Hey, would ya stop givin' me a hard time ‘bout havin’ a big head? It hurts me feelings.” 

“I didn’t mean it that way, but does it hurt your feelings if I mean you have a big ego, too?” I explain, toeing off my sandals in his entryway. 

“Yes,” he whines, dramatically. It pulls a laugh from my lips that sounds around the empty house, it soon coming to life as I flick on some lights. “Harper sure was adorable callin’ you Anty Becky t’night.” 

“I know, I loved it. Her birthday was fun. Thanks again.” 

“Oh, don’t thank me, love. Thank her. She was tha one who made you a handmade invitation, not moi,” he comments warmly, the jangling of his keys accompanying his words. “Thank you, I know it wasn’t ‘xactly convenient with t’day, and ev’rythin.’” 

“No, it’s okay. It was a lot of fun, you know I love your family.” 

“I know, it makes me happy. Thank you, Becks,” he says, pulling on my hand until I follow into the dining area, and then onto the sofa. 

“Welcome, Harry. Do you want to watch an episode of FRIENDS, or a few, before I go home?”

“I was thinkin’ ya could stay tha night again, if ya wanna. Figured we should do sumthin’ t’ celebrate tha big 6,” he announces, his voice teeming with excitement, guiding my eyes to his figure behind the kitchen island. I’m startled when the cork pops from the dark bottle, squealing with a hand to my mouth. “Want a glass?”

“Yes, please. And there’s chocolate cake hidden in the fridge that I saved for tonight.” 

“Jus’ look at you, spoilin’ me,” Harry says with a clicking of his tongue, soon drowned out by the opening of drawers, and clinking of silverware. 

Humming under my breath, I splay out on the sofa with the remote in hand. Pressing on the different arrows, I wait for the right screen to load while I scroll through my phone. 

“Here ya go,” he announces, setting down a plate with slices of chocolate cake, and two wine glasses half filled with a sparkling liquid. “‘s Prosecco, hope that’s okay.” 

“Yeah, I like that too. Thanks, babe.” 

“Yer welcome, love. Oh, don’t wanna f’get this, no, I don’t,” he says, and a moment later, a small wrapped box arrives on my lap. 

“Harry,” I begin in protest, but sitting down next to me, he doesn’t let me continue. 

“Don’t worry, jus’ open it.” 

“I was going to say that I didn’t get you anything for our six month today,” I tell him with emphasis in my voice. He shakes his head while taking a bite of the cake, swiping at his tongue dotted with crumbs. 

“There’s nuthin’ I want- jus’ open it, Becks. Please,” he insists, nodding at the present and looking away quickly to stab at the cake again. 

“Okay then,” I tease, sitting up and crossing my legs. “Harry Styles, this better not be a you-know-what ring.” 

“‘s not, babe. Ya still haven’t given me that answer, so ‘course not,” he explains with a mouth full of cake, and crazily, I love him all the more for it. Shaking my head at the smirk he wears, I tear at the metallic, purple wrapping paper until I arrive at a white, square box the size of my palm. “Maybe ya could gimme an answer t’ anotha question I have instead,” Harry says slowly, right as I pry the top off to find a lone, purple house key waiting for me. 

“What?” I laugh without thinking a thought about why, or how, and every other thing in between. Looking up and away, I find his dimpled cheeks the near color of roses. A laugh wheezes from his lips as he sets down the plate on the table, but I find it hard to focus on as my heart begins a race inside my ribs. 

“I meant it when I said tha other night that I wanna fall asleep next t’ ya ev’ry night, babe. So, what d’ya say t’ sleep overs with me ev’ry night, hmm? Will ya move in with me, Becks?” and just like that, it all clicks inside of my head, even though I had put a few of them together just a moment ago. 

Plucking the key from the box, I rub it between my fingers, and then my eyes return to him, like everything always does. His bottom lip is riddled with indents from his chattering teeth, as if his eyes like a meadow weren’t boring into me already. 

“Becks, love?” he murmurs softly, anxiously. A curve arrives on my lips, mere moments before I cross the sofa and jump onto his lap. His peppery, vanilla scent swims around me while his ever contagious laugh does the same, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. “Bloody hell, woman, can I get that answer from ya already or not?” 

Giggling, I at last pull away from hugging him and come to feel the days of stubble littering his cheeks, just how I like it. The flecks of gold and ivory in his eyes catch the light as they dance over my face, and I wonder what he sees in mine as his fingers get lost in my hair. I wonder if he sees the answer before I say it, because what else would it be but, “Of course, Harry. There’s nothing I’d want more.” 

[defeatedbyamerechild]

How Guzma and Cyrus became close friends

(The following scene takes place in Giovanni’s mansion, a few months after the Villains had moved in to that place, and therefore happens previously to the moment depicted in our comics.)

-------

    It's around 3PM, Giovanni is in his office, Archie and Maxie left for a walk and Lusamine is knitting in the backyard with her Pokémon. Lysandre is in his room recording a make up tutorial and no one knows where Ghetsis is, but no one really cares much. Cyrus has just finished sweeping the floor. He enters the living room to find Guzma lying on the couch, reading his diary.

CYRUS – Guzma! What the... What are you doing with my diary?!

    Cyrus quickly approaches Guzma and tries to grab the diary from his hands, but Guzma dodges him.

GUZMA – Yo, Relax, Cy-boy! I was just takin' a look! Nothin' much, just readin' a bit of it!

CYRUS – [angry, but trying to hide it] Well, “a bit of it” is already too much! It's a diary, that means it's personal Therefore, you shouldn't be reading any of it. Now give it back to me!

GUZMA – Sheesh... [gives him the diary] Here, don't be so friggin' anxious, dude! What's the matter with sharin' your secrets with a friend after all? Are you hidin' anythin'? [giggles]

CYRUS – [still annoyed] No! The matter is that I did not choose to share anything with you. You just went and... started meddling in my personal stuff. Which I very much disapprove, if you allow me to add!

GUZMA – Tsc...  Meh. Chill! Not doin' it again, if it bothers ya that much! [He winks at Cyrus, smiling].

CYRUS – [in a rather sarcastic way] Thanks for that, although I do not believe you...

    Cyrus sits on the couch one seat away from where Guzma is. Hugging his diary against his chest, he wonders what Guzma could have read from it. There's a brief silence.

GUZMA – Yo...

    Cyrus glances at him, a little bit apprehensive, for his housemate might bring up something from his diary.

GUZMA – Y'know, I was just... thinkin'... Cause, like... You wrote there tha-[Cyrus interrupts him.]

CYRUS – I do not want to discuss anything I wrote. It's personal. And it's already bothersome enough to know that you read it, so please spare me the embarrassment of further explaining whatever it is you want to comment on...

GUZMA – Aw, c'mon, dude! Don't be like that!

CYRUS – Like what?

GUZMA – Like... y'know... Carin' so much about this and all!

CYRUS – [sarcastic] You mean having dignity?

GUZMA – [chuckles] You're so dramatic, bro...  

   Brief silence. Guzma stretches his arms and legs, trying to look as casual as possible before resuming his speech.

GUZMA – [with a carefree intonation] Anyways! You wrote it there that no one cares about ya, and, like... Dude, that's a pretty rough thing to say 'bout yourself, ey? [giggles]

  Cyrus clenches his jaw and stares at his own feet, embarrassed and upset.

GUZMA – Tsc... Like, c'mon, why all that drama? Who broke your heart, eh? [giggles] You can tell ya old boy Guzma here!

CYRUS – [looking up at him] Sigh... Don't turn that into some romantic gibberish, Guzma! It has nothing to do with that.

GUZMA – Yeah? Right, whatever. Still somethin' must have happen'd if you feel like that. So! Who hurt ya?

CYRUS – [Looking away] Why are you asking me that? Why does it matter to you?

GUZMA – Meh. Dunno, dude. I'm curious. Also, like... That's not true.

CYRUS – What is not true?

GUZMA – That no one cares 'bout ya! Like, I do, for example! That's why I'm askin'! Makes sense, right?

CYRUS – [snorts sarcastically] Right.

GUZMA – I mean it, bro! I'm here for ya! [winks again] Now, go on! Tell me about those feels, I know you wanna talk about it!

CYRUS – [out of patience, very emphatic] No, you do not. How would you know that?

GUZMA – [still smiling, folding his arms behind his head] 'Cause why else would'ya write it in your diary? You feel like tellin' someone! That means you need to talk! [winks for the third time]

CYRUS – [looking away, trying to hide his amazement at Guzma's perceptive mind.] Well, even if that were the truth, this conversation is useless. You should know what hurt me by now, if you read my diary.

GUZMA – Yeah, true, but... I didn't read, like... all of it, y'know? As I told ya! I was just readin' a bit of it! 'Cause, y'know, I'm not that much of a passionate reader, like... [giggles] When you start with those huge chunks of text I just skip ‘em! I only read some short parts and that's all!

CYRUS – [not amused] Hm.

  Cyrus glances around, discreetly checking if there's anyone else near. He then glances at Guzma, who is still smiling, as if nothing had happened. He sighs. He knows Guzma will not give up on his curiosity.

CYRUS – OK, so you want to know who hurt me? My parents did. That's all. Happy?

GUZMA – [stops smiling and tilts his head to the right] Ya parents? Yo, really?

    Guzma scratches his chin, as he sits up on the couch.

GUZMA – Dude, that's somethin'... Like, I know how that feels! My old man was also a real son of a Jynx, y'know? Like, real mean AF!

CYRUS – Oh. [frowns] I thought you said you had been raised in a sewer, by Raticates.

   Guzma briefly widens his eyes and stops smiling, but soon goes back to his previous expression.

GUZMA – [giggling, trying to hide his awkwardness and make something up quickly] Eh, yeah but, like... He was a mean Raticate! Totally savage, like, real bad parentin'! Like Ghetsis, y'know?! [thinks for a second and corrects himself] Uh... Actually, no, not that bad. No one's bad like Ghetsis as a parent! Even a Raticate is better.

CYRUS – Ugh. Please do not involve Ghetsis in this conversation, he is the last person I would like to think of now... or ever.

GUZMA – [laughing] Heh! So you also hate old Ghetsis, ey?

CYRUS – I do not “hate”. Feelings are irrational and useless. I hate no one.

GUZMA – [smiling maliciously] Dunno, bro, you seemed to have a fistful of feelings to write about in your diary!

CYRUS – [keeping a straight face, but blushing] I don't know what you're talking about. [brief pause] But I guess  I do prefer to keep my distance from Ghetsis.

GUZMA – Yeah, same. I dead serious hate that dude!

CYRUS – Why?

GUZMA – [Amazed] Dude, why?! Like, why would anyone not hate 'im?

CYRUS – [nodding] Point taken. Still, I do not see personal reasons for you to dislike him. Most of the time, he seems to ignore your presence.

GUZMA – Yeah, but dude's a big old friggin' stinky wild hog, like, what's wrong with that dude? He's a son of a Jynx who treats everyone like they're Pidgey poop! I don't need no personal reasons to dislike a guy like that!

CYRUS – That's fair enough.

GUZMA – Yeah, that dude doesn't care 'bout anyone but himself, that's a fact. [brief pause] And talkin' about “carin'”, let's go back to the main point here...

CYRUS – Sigh...

GUZMA – That is... You feel broken!

CYRUS – [offended] I don't- I never put it on those words! Actually, you're definitely over-interpreting things right now...

GUZMA – [Ignoring his protests] Why'dya feel like no one cares about you? [giggling] Do you feel needy or...?

CYRUS – [irrtated] Are you making fun of me?

GUZMA – [Skipping a seat on the couch to sit by Cyrus' side] Nah. I mean it for real. Why do you feel like that?

CYRUS – [annoyed again] Well, I thought it was pretty self-explanatory that when I said “no once cares”, I meant that I think other people don't give a flip about how I feel! Or about whether or not I'm even alive! [Guzma stares silently for a while and Cyrus blushes a bit, then takes a deep breath] I don't feel... appreciated. That's it.

GUZMA – [Suddenly more serious] Hm... That's rough...  

CYRUS – [Slightly ashamed] Look, I only write about those things in my diary because my therapist says it will help me understand myself, all right? Please, stop making a big deal out of it. It's not. It's nothing important.

GUZMA – Dude, like... I ain't the one makin' a big deal out of it...

    Cyrus widens his eyes a little again.

GUZMA – Like... I'm just talkin' about it 'cause it's not, y'know... normal? I mean, to feel that way, y'know? But I'm just chattin', like, casual talk! I ain't making a big deal outta anything! You're the one who's makin' big deal out of it, as if talkin' about that was a problem... Like, what's wrong with just talkin' about it?

    Cyrus looks away.

GUZMA – Wanna know what? I've felt like that before. I'ma be honest with ya, Cyrus, I've felt like that too in the past! I mean, livin' in the streets is not that easy sometimes, y'know? And when you ain't got nothin' and people just walk by and pretend they don't even see ya, how do you think you're gonna feel?

    Cyrus keeps looking to the other side.

GUZMA – But then, like... You end up findin' people who care! Like, I founded my team, made my friends, everythin' was all right! And screw the rest! So, like... Screw your parents, and Ghetsis and all of those Fudge-brained jerks like him! Life goes on and stuff. Things change. Time passes... Y'know?

CYURS – [looking at him with the corner of his eyes] Yeah, I suppose time doesn't usually just stop flowing in our dimension. Any other generic piece of advice?

GUZMA – [chuckles] Quite a sense of humor, eh, Cy-boy?

CYRUS – I don't have a sense of humor. What's the point of humor anyway?

GUZMA – Well, havin' fun!

CYRUS – What for?

GUZMA – Dude... like... for fun? [laughs] The heck of a question is that? There's no point! It just feels good!

CYRUS – Feeling good is just temporary. It will go away and you'll feel bad again later.

GUZMA – Which is just as temporary, 'cause you'll eventually feel good again! And so it goes! Ups and downs! Am I right? So instead of thinkin' about all that until you get a headache, why not just livin' your life?

CYRUS – The amount of cliches is gonna give me a headache, to be honest. What are you, a walking self-help book?

   Guzma bursts into a sincere laughter, leaving Cyrus slightly surprised.

GUZMA – Now that's a better mood! See, you do have a sense of humor, it's just kinda acid! I like that! [giggles] Yeah I like that...

   Cyrus stifles a chuckle and looks away again.

GUZMA – I saw that!

CYRUS – [Looking back at Guzma] What?

GUZMA – You smiled!

CYRUS – Must have been your imagination.

GUZMA – [chuckles] Right. [not that brief silence] But welp. Just to finish what I was sayin'. You had your share of pain in the past, like, you been hurt, I've been hurt, we all been hurt, 'K? Some more than the others, but...

CYRUS – You really don't give up on the cliches, do you?

GUZMA – Shush, let me finish! You had a rough past! OK! But that's over, dude. Look at us! We're livin' with friggin' Mr. Mafia Boss Giovanni here! I mean, dude's rich. Dude's above the law. Dude's nice. Kinda short-fused, I gotta say, but still nice! We got this big old house here... Free food... What else could we ask for, ey?

CYRUS – Aren't you deviating a bit from the topic?

GUZMA – Nah, I mean it! We're all livin' here now! And life here is good, is that not right? and like... You'll never see your parents again! Screw them! They're in the past!

CYRUS – They've been in the past for a long for me. This is not a problem anymore.

GUZMA – You were the one who brought up your parents...

CYRUS – Because you insisted on asking me about my wounds! But it's been a long time I haven't cared about my parents, and I don't intend to change that.

GUZMA – Yeah! Great! And now you've got a buncha people livin' with ya who are totally not like them! Like me and Maxie and Archie and Lusie and Lysandre... I mean. OK. Let's be honest, no one is like Lysandre, right? But still, we're all different from your parents! Just 'cause they made you feel like trash when you lived with them, that doesn't mean we all think you're trash too!

CYRUS – I'm not trash.

GUZMA – Yeah, that's the spirit, bro!

CYRUS – I-... OK. Whatever. Your point is...?

GUZMA – My point? [giggles] Dunno. Stop being an emo prick?

CYRUS – [rather offended] Well, I can be a caustic prick, since you prefer it.

GUZMA – [with a malicious smile once again] Nice, I love caustic humor! Then we kill two birds with one stone: you get your appreciation and I don't get none of your gloomy drama anymore!

CYRUS – What?! You frickin-...  I'm not making any drama, you brought this up yourself! I didn't even want to talk about it!

    Guzma laughs a bit and then taps Cyrus' back, making him a little bit uncomfortable.

GUZMA – Just jokin', bro! Relax!

    Cyrus crosses his arms and looks away once again, slightly grumpy. Guzma quickly grabs his diary.

CYRUS – [turning back at Guzma and trying to grab the diary] Hey!

GUZMA – Now let me just add somethin' here!

CYRUS – [Still trying to get the diary back] What?! Guzma!

GUZMA – [writing with a pencil while dodging Cyrus] And... Here... we... go!

   Guzma finishes writing and gives Cyrus his diary, which he grabs rather aggressively and immediately opens, searching for whatever Guzma wrote.

CYRUS – What have you written here?

  Cyrus gets to his last entry. At the bottom of the page he finds Guzma's handwriting. It reads “Guzma slaps!”.

CYRUS – [sarcastic] How touching.

GUZMA – What? Disappointed? Didya expect a somethin' mallow like “we all wove you, Cywus! Pwease don't feel wejected anymowe!” [laughs].

CYRUS – [Closing his diary and rolling his eyes] Shut up...

GUZMA – Welp. Hope to see some more cheerful stuff next time I grab your diary!

CYRUS – Next time?! [Guzma ignores him]

GUZMA – [stands up] I'm off now. Gonna meet Plum for a beer! But, hey, let's do somethin' together any day, how 'bout that, ey, Cy-boy?

CYRUS – [rather lost] Uh... I...

GUZMA – Do you play chess?

CYRUS – Uh... Y-yes. I do.

GUZMA – Thought so! Let's play a game of chess tomorrow then! Deal?!

CYRUS – Well... I can't see why not.

GUZMA – Nice! [taps his shoulder and leaves, then stops and turns back, giving him finger guns and winking once again] See ya, bro!

  Guzma leaves. Cyrus remains sitting on the couch, silent. He opens the diary again and stares at the bottom of his last entry for a few seconds. He grabs a pen and starts writing.

“Dear diary. Something rather peculiar just happened: I think I just made a friend... … That does not mean I give you permission to read my diary, Guzma. Close it. Now.”

------ (Scene by GabiWaffle)

[fuckyeahvanhalen86-95]

“As a performer and vocalist, he underwhelmed me,” Templeman said about watching Roth the night he secured their record deal with Warner Bros. boss Mo Ostin. “His stage presence was awkward, and his singing wasn’t great. … I was actually a bit nervous that Mo was going to be turned off by the singer’s antics and perhaps might pass on Van Halen. Truthfully, Roth made me nervous too. I thought, 'What am I going to do with this group if we sign them and the singer can’t hold up his end of the bargain?' I could make the guitar player a solo artist if the worst came to pass. I found myself mulling over dumping the singer for a stronger vocalist, like Montrose’s lead singer, Sammy Hagar. I thought, Hell, he might be the perfect singer for Van Halen.”

When studio work started, Templeman said he feared Roth was the band’s “biggest issue” and that he “couldn’t fix” it. “To be sure, he was distinctive as a singer; his train-whistle screams were identifiable in a good way," he explained. "But every time I heard him get pitchy or completely miss a note, I worried that the public was going to be turned off by this band because of his limitations.”

Despite being tempted to pick up the phone on a number of occasions, Templeman never quite got there. And then “Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Love” came up.

“When we took breaks, I’d talk at length with him," the producer noted. "That’s when I came to appreciate his astounding intellect. He’d quote a line from Tom Sawyer and then a comic book. I still don’t know anybody who can keep those kinds of stream-of-consciousness raps going like he can. The more I read his lyrics, especially ‘Ain’t Talkin’ ’Bout Love,’ the more impressed I became. His line in that song about bleeding for something you really desire just stuck with me. He was extremely well-read and smart, and that showed up in his whole approach to fronting Van Halen.”

Eventually the producer concluded that Roth “wasn’t a conventional singer” but his “rare” gifts “outweighed his flaws.”

“I hung in there with Dave, thinking that I’d find a way in the studio to accentuate his strengths and minimize his weaknesses," Templeman said. "That’s why I decided against calling Sammy. … If I’d tried to put him in Van Halen in 1977, I’d have made the biggest mistake in rock history, because Van Halen never would have made it without Dave fronting the band.”

[rishicat]

*clears throat* you know what time it is? that’s right, time for my pointless opinion! So, i saw the MCU’s Phase 4 lineup presented at SDCC, and lemme just say:

high key excited for the Disney+ shows, but the LOGOS (what were the graphic designers smoking when they made the Loki one, and also Wanda Vision?? the FAWS one looks dope, and I guess the What If...? one is okay. i am really glad that they used the hawkeye title for the Kate Bishop comics in place of the show’s logo)

the Black Widow movie makes me so excited. such a good cast, it’s gonna kick off Phase 4, and FINALLY, some good quality Natasha Romanoff content to give her the recognition she deserves. Marvel deserves a standing ovation for this one.

so, i’m not gonna lie, i don’t really know about the Eternals, but i have gotten around to reading a comic or two, and i really think they could bring some much-needed power to the MCU. i love the logo, though!

Shang-Chi! we finally have our first Asian lead in a Marvel movie, and he’s just such a cool character. also, his powers are very different from the ones that we’ve seen present in the MCU. judging by the title (i’m not sure) i think his main villain will be the real Mandarin from Iron Man 3 since the villain was affiliated with the terrorist group The Ten Rings. looking forward to this!

okay. Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness. cool. cool. cool. okay. ok- WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S A HORROR MOVIE?! now i’m more interested. keep talkin’! even though this movie’s rated PG-13, it’s probably gonna give us a good spook. i am terrified of horror movies, and my phobia has made me almost have a panic attack whenever i walk into a theatre (long story) but that won’t stop me from walking into that screening and sitting through it. one last thing, though. i do think the logo could’ve been done better. 

thor 4 thor love and thunder. (why does the logo give me serious 90′s vibes, though?) we got jane being confirmed as the new Thor, and valkyrie will be confirmed as LGBTQ+. i’m not crying, you are. but the logo’s different, the story will be different, we got Taika Waititi a god-given gift as the director and writer, y’all, i don’t know ‘bout you, but maybe this might, just maybe, be better than Ragnarok. MAYBE.

lastly, the ‘quick mentions’ and projects confirmed after the main panels. Blade is a good one, since the old one had a cool concept, but wasn’t properly done. with today’s very talented people, and a more mature and experienced Marvel handling the project, i have faith. Captain Marvel 2 means we get to see more of Carol, and hopefully interactions between a more mature version of her and Nick Fury. one of my fantasies. i’m pumped! Black Panther 2! after Endgame, i kept worrying about what Wakanda became with both T’Challa and Shuri dusted. i think the story will be about the kingdom coming back to terms with being back, with a new villain sprinkled in except someone dropped the shaker and now the frosting is covered in sprinkles. Guardians of the Galaxy 3 i already knew about, but now that Thor 4 comes before this movie, the whole concept changes. i really need a second to think about this one. but James Gunn is back! yay! another Fantastic 4 reboot!!! what? i...can’t wait? we’ll see, now that Marvel has full ownership of the characters. and there was chatter about an X-Men movie and the New Mutants being picked up again, and since Marvel HAS Fox now, (thanks to the big mouse himself), i believe we will be served something delicious. 

hey. you still here? if you read ALL that, now you know how i feel. about all *makes gesture motioning to Phase 4 timeline?* this. maybe you feel the same way, dear reader. anyway, i think this is too long, so i’m going to end it here and let you think about my trash thoughts, or keep scrolling. bye. have a good day :)

[jacked-kirby]

#JackedKirby - The Joker... Kirby Style!!! 🤡🤡🤡 Everybody out here talkin’ bout some Joker movie trailer and I’m over here like... WHAT ABOUT KIRBY’S JOKER??? 🤡🤡🤡 Jack was brought on to the 1st DC Super Powers series to contribute cover pencils and story plotting for the 5 Issue mini-series that featured a who’s who of DC heroes and villains in 1984. The series featured the pencils of Adrian Gonzalez on the interiors and Joey Cavaleri on scripts... and #Issue1 of the series featured the Clown Prince of Crime himself front and center (Pic 5 of this post!!). The comic came out in July of 1984 and that cover is AMAZING!!! 🤡🤡🤡 By the time the series was wrapping up in November of 1984 with #issue5 Gonzalez was relieved of his interior pencils duties and the King himself was completing the task!!! Luckily for us, that issue featured a TON of Kirby Joker panels (Pics 1-4 of this post)!!! 🤡🤡🤡 This was Kirby’s chance to play with a lot of mainstream DC heroes and villains since most of his 70s strayed away from the typical DC characters. I don’t think Jack ever drew the Joker besides this series... maybe @kirbymuseum could confirm that? 🤡🤡🤡 The second Super Powers series featured Kirby pencils on the cover and interiors, but I don’t think Batman’s main adversary makes an appearance!!! I’ll be double checking tonight... Happy Joker Day!!! (PS - The movie trailer looks DOPE too!) 🤡🤡🤡 #JackKirby #KingKirby #Kirby #SuperPowers #DCComics #Joker #JokerDay #Comic #Comics #ComicBook #ComicBooks #80sComicBooks #80sComics #ComicsOfThe80s #KirbyDoesTheJoker #JoaquinPhoenix #thejokermovie2019 #thejokermovie https://www.instagram.com/p/BvzzANWBoQ3/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=17ke1g1rhqth5