balmy

Thinking on it, Loki should really have just dropped the whole Asgard thing and moved to Greece to hang with the Olympians

Like, Loki’s worst bits of mischief, up to and including murder, is just Zeus’ casual Tuesday. Plus everyone is always busy either fucking with someone if not actually fucking them. There’s a god of drinking and theatre (professional artful lying, holy shit). Also a god of chilling in the woods and banging nymphs and/or lonely shepherds (ideal). Two love/beauty/lust deities (doubly ideal, good on Mama Aphrodite and Son Eros, great family tradition). No prophesy of an apocalyptic showdown to look forward to–or any kind of narrative to bind the gods, period (Fuck Yes). The local mortals are all nerds in togas or oiled up muscle men (c:). Balmy weather, access to spices (C:).

Honestly, it’d just be

Zeus: What convinces you, god from the north, that you have a place here among my family? Among the gods of sky and sea and earth, the gods who are all the power and inspiration of the world? What right have you, foreign trickster, to the gates of Olympus?

Loki: Oh, is this the job interview? Damn, and here I am without my power suit. Let me change real quick

Loki, naked: So my work history is,

Zeus, naked: Hera, have someone clear out the guest room

Zodiac Ball
  • Aries: The temperature becomes warm, a baby dragon tries to make a swift entrance, but the glass breaks and a chaos begins, giggling and excited, blowing up balloons with scarlet lava, The party has only just began
  • Taurus: swinging on the vines outside, Mother Earth inhales with the trees in the wild, leafy weaved hair sparkling matted with Venus hairspray, held to tradition, its customary for beauty to arrive late
  • Gemini: One young, fresh faced winged creature flitters in following sprinkles of scattered chatter, in a second, it vanishes, and another one appears, contradicting everything the first creature said
  • Cancer: Arriving with suitcases, a girl with half crescent moon eyes arrives at the door, purple lunar dust she doesn't know her age, her chest has freckles like constellations, she said she was looking for home
  • Leo: Light begins peering through the window, a golden haired baby cub face arrives, snapshots flashing through illuminated eyes, crimson hair that falls behind her like a red carpet
  • Virgo: A mental hum sweeps through, in walks a youthful, earthly creature, wings held down to the ground with sewed safety pins, thinking with her eyes as they dart across the ground and sky, her mind impossible to catch
  • Libra: Pan flute music begins playing, and a cloud descends from the sky, translucent and reflective, a creature with a clam necklace and icing sugar for rouge, everybody wants to be friends with her, now the party is fun
  • Scorpio: Nobody noticed with their eyes that a mystifying essence had arrived, but everybody's soul was alerted, because they felt their spirit swamped with a watchful gaze, a ruthless guardian
  • Sagittarius: A balmy, coconut breeze blows through the party, enchanted, fiery arrows are thrown into the dartboard, a creature of many backgrounds and teachings arrives, speaking many languages and decoding secret rhymes
  • Capricorn: From a silver lining in a cloud, delicately crafted snowflakes fall down, a Princess arrives at exactly on time, riding a carriage pulled by unicorns, her name engraved on a plaque on the highest star in the sky
  • Aquarius: A rainbow of illuminated fairy lights beam from the clouds, rain drops of thought fall into your mind, a creature, clear winged and extraterrestrial speaks with every guest telepathically
  • Pisces: Music from seashells play in everyones ear, footsteps are heard from galaxies away, reverent and indefinable, a creature enters with sand webbed in her feet, Neptune dust sprinkled in her hair a teal turquoise dream reaching into the sea
shakespeare aesthetics

romeo and juliet: suburban july. scraped knees, bruised knuckles, blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in a breeze. burning inside. an ill-fitting party dress, a t-shirt you cut up yourself, the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friend’s house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn-looking basketball hoop at the end of the cul-de-sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip-flops. a eulogy written on looseleaf. the merciless noontime sun.

hamlet: speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half-remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn, mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins, books with cracked spines, books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. a big black t-shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil under your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

twelfth night: wicker deck furniture. new england summer. big dark sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean, patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. chlorine smell. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love, love for the idea of love, love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar, a crab fisherman with tattoos, a pretty boy with a slackened tie. a light house. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. finger guns. big floppy sun hats. double-speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drunk on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for, hope you weren’t expecting, pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. pool noodles. becoming less of a stranger.

macbeth: the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat, the stillness after battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. a sulfur smell. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00. a snake that crosses your path, an owl that watches you, a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke. dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now. 

much ado about nothing: the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck, military supply duffel bags in the hall, hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch, a pitcher of iced tea. barbecue. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. indian summer. ill-timed proclamations. stomach-clutching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen, a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog-eared rhyming dictionary. camomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you have a home until you’re there. 

king lear: cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lightning, a too-big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red-black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the tips of your teeth. the blown-out windows of skeletal houses. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes, shutting up, holding your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods, wondering if the gods are listening, wondering if the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

a midsummer night’s dream: wet soil/dead leaves smell. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill somebody slipped you. fear that turns to excitement, excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hollow in an old tree. glow-in-the-dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

Catchprases masterlist

These catchphrases for ACNL villagers were collected on tumblr, contributors can be found at the bottom of this post. Remember not to capitalise catchphrases or add punctuation marks as the game takes care of this, according to wherever the catchphrase will show up in a sentence. However, do capitalise greetings and use punctuations marks in greetings unless you don’t want any.


Catchphrases for any villager

kweh / kupo / booper / ya know / your majesty / I guess / in America / in bed / ba-bang / nifty / cool beans / hella / pumbloom / *pees* / marmalade / darling / dear / sweetie / sweetheart / honey / love / imagineer / human / robot / friend / jeaaaahhhh / I’m lying / yes? No? / okey dokey / OK / I say / you see / you know / sugarcube / YOLO / TL;DR / orz / *censored* / in-game / …help me / [hiccup] / mean it / not again / why me / shut up / stop that / hmm… / yeah / ugh / you’ll see / dear / partner / bonjour / so funny / so sad / hon hon / no worries / gotcha / you cutie / go away / come here / mind you / same / so what / me, too / my child / golly / stay safe / take care / sniff


Catchphrases for normal villagers

dear / dearie / puddin’ / pumpkin / sweetie / mhm / mittens / sweet tart / honey / darling / heh / tea time / nutmeg / yippy / verily / books / hun / baby / :3 / kiwi / mango / plum / papaya / love / sweetums / love dove / balmy / doodles / breezy / ahaha / cupcake / hehe / nyah / if I may / lovely / my friend / my love / o-okay / flower / oh my / sweetheart / buddy / precious


Catchphrases for peppy villagers

yeah / girl / goof / sunshine / weirdo / for sure / lmao / like, yeah / omg / LOL / girl power / shiny / totally / totes / like OMG / y'know / yay / notice me / :3 / pudding / jeepers / doll / bonbon / zippy / sunny / rosy / hoorah / boosh / cutie pie / yayzies / boop / yo / hooray / my fan / aha / twinkle / sparkle / ta-da / teehee / bestie / [sings] / and like / much wow / wow / aww snap / superduper / sugar / silly / like / hm? / sugarbear


Catchphrases for snooty villagers

wow / peasant / dear / floozy / wild one / posh / darling / hrmp / oh dear / babe / um / hipster / fancy / fancypants / mrrrow / dawling / kisskiss / darling / dearie / sweetie / hey bby / #tweet / #selfie / my pet / dahling / belle / capiche / la-di-da / cheeky / swanky / uppity / ugh / right / honey / fancy / you wish / my pet / quite so / whatever / sweetheart / mon dieu / hmph / ridiculous


Catchphrases for uchi villagers

lil sis / son / pumpkin / sweetie / dude / lovely / sister / friend / aw yeah / maaan / sugar / little sis / mm hm / girls / sis / bro / awesome / dude / hey bby / hun / yeah yeah / yeah right / whatever / junior / dainty / precious / foxy / nifty / nimble / friend / sugar pie / kid / cutie / gotcha / am I right / cuz / dudette / sweetie / twerp / uhh… yea / 10/10 / neh


Catchphrases for cranky villagers

ugh / punk / darn it / lass / sprout / child / ugh… / you kids / urgh / sweet / dagnabbit / durnit / you child / tch / kiddo / who am I? / ech / Billy / ya jerk / get lost / snappish / maroon / huff / tart / crabby / surly / seriously / grumps / kiddo / youngster / boss / NOT / …I guess / MWAHAHAHA / suck it / or else / human / nyeh / hmph / [sigh] / munchkin / buddy / whatever / shut up / my head / sigh / I hate it / you baby


Catchphrases for jock villagers

booya! / dork / goof / speedy / hiyah / woah / crunch / hup-to / coach / teammate / mate / bud / guy / bam / 10k / carbs / champion / frat boy / you’re it / let’s race / T-DOWN / GOAL / football / sportsball / notice me / d00d / dude / brah / bruh / bro / dude man / player / rookie / pro / champ / tiger / lifting / exercise / energize / homie / get wreckt / ten-hut / ba-BOOM / *fistbump* / nerd / yo / rock on / yahoo / c'mon bro / up top / level 100 / brawler / *sweats* / carry me / snot


Catchphrases for lazy villagers

yessir / yawn / snooze / snore / munchie / drowsy / pip / snuffle / hmmm / mhmm / …yawn / I guess / *rumble* / FOOOD / peach / apple pie / tart / yum / yaaawn / biscotti / biscuit / cake time / snack time / let’s eat / milk bone / I’m hungry / *burrrp* / narf / word / mkay / mmm… / …zzz… / drowsy / toddle / truffle / dreamy / or whatnot / cookies / I’m sleepy / hrm? / mm'kaay / sluuuurp / duuuude / never mind / yo / snug / ehh jk / feed me / snoozer


Catchphrases for smug villagers

lol no / zoink / honey / babe / darling / m'lady / mistress / my liege / princess / my queen / my king / friend / dear / haha / fabulous / I say / sure / howla / chicky / hottie / woah dude / call me / notice me / #selfie / hey bby / m'dear / yessir / wise-guy / righteous / alright / cutie / heh heh / romantic / huehuehue / what, what / indeed / guvnor / says I / bien / eheh / my friend / believe it / told ya so / bonjour / starlight / love hurts


Animal themed catchphrases & greetings

Bears: cubby, roar
Birds: chicky, cluck yeah
Cats: me-wow, purr purr
Chickens : chicky, cluck yeah, cluckin’ a
Cows: partner
Cubs: roar
Dogs: growl, woof, bark
Ducks: quackers, duckyeah, quackowsky
Frogs: (greetings: Frogget about it.)
Goats: baah
Hamsters: squeak, squicky
Kangaroos: mate, matey, crikey, blimey, g'day
Koalas: mate, matey, crikey, blimey, g'day, eucalypbro
Mice: squeak, squicky, gouda, cheesy (greetings: Gouda see you!)
Octopi: inkling
Penguins: ice cold, sugar cube
Rabbits: thumps, flop (greetings: What’s up, doc?)
Squirrels: squeak, squicky
Tigers: growler
Wolves: growler

Greetings with fitting catchphrases

Get off my lawn & ugh (for cranky villagers)
Don’t talk to me & goodbye
Good to see you / I was worried!  & I hate it!
Howdy & partner
Got any food? & I’m hungry
Zappity Zap Zap & pachirisu (for Static)
Judge & witness
Honey & sting
Hey there & sugarbear
Sweet meet & sugar cube
Don’t hurt me! & ouch


THEMES

Dessert/sweets theme
Catchphrases: snickerdoo / chocochip / jellyjam / meowringue (cat) / mooringue (cow) / creamsicle / lebkuchen (wolf; they always struck me as German-ish!) / sconesie / cinnaroll / honeybun / frostings / cuppycake / maraschino
Greetings: Snickerdoodleoo (chicken) / Chocochipper / Sugar'n spice

Alcoholic beverage theme
Catchphrases: mojito / cider / bubbly / bourbonne (specifically I have this for my snooty cat Monique as she seems French to me) / icewine (penguin) / amaretto (squirrel) / duckquiri (duck) / fruitini / baileys / sangria / sherry / kahlua
Greetings: Prost (wolf) / bottoms up / cheers



CONTRIBUTORS – thank you all so much!

katieshmatie, ar-te-mi-s, subliminal-asshole, bluesodacrossing, mayor-merlot, oaktincans, delilah-crossing, lasershield, kakkuja, faylian, kastrokingdoms, smokeyapaloosa, thestaticstalker, alwaysactually, mayorakito, jerseydevilapologist, mayor-brandy, mayorette, possibly-devon, pkmn-trainer-olive, ferotton, amibrazen, ifsbuttsandmeco, peppy-villager​, skye-crossing, pinkpeonii, aisemicr, mayor-jenn, crossingsnivy, elegant-mushroom, dordt-animal-crossing, shoujokay, miss-mismagius, webcomixwastaken… and several anons, thank you too!
Also thanks to rabbityfur who helped clean up the catchphrases.

I took the liberty not to include offensive catchphrases (explicitly sexual ones, ableism, (sexist) slurs, Japanese ones and AAVE). You are of course free to use the latter two if you’re Japanese/black but I didn’t want to support cultural appropriation with this list.

The Earth Signs - Flower Fairies
Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn

The earth signs are shadow dwellers, nocturnal, and guarded by Mother Earth. Three flower fairies dance in synchronistic unison, a tribute to the rhythm of the seasons. Like ancient witches, the earth signs become intimate with nature and its properties. They are in tune with minerals, medicines, and potions. The earth signs have vines wrapping around the mind, typically blooming later in life, displaying the resilience and the beauty of nature itself. Taurus is the petal princess, frolicking with the love and musical creativity of Aphrodite. Virgo nurtures the flower seeds, routinely serving God in service, preparing for astounding spiritual bloom. And Capricorn orchestrates the natural law, upholding the responsibility for all creatures great and small. The earth signs support life and uphold the foundation to which the whole zodiac can ascend from. 

Flower crowns were donned by angels the day Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn were born, a testament to their natural beauty. Taurus is the heiress of the Kingdom of Nature, possessing the creative fertility of Mother Earth, giving form to art and essence. Taurus is ruled by Venus, the planet of love. But the love of Taurus grows deeper than interpersonal relationships. The love of Taurus radiates throughout all of earth and its allure. This is why Taureans love to take vacations to relaxing, even remote locations. It’s so they can hear with all sensual grace the crashing of waves, the song of wind, the rustle of trees. This is existence to Taurus. And they are energized by material, often envisioning creative design with fabric, construction, and artistry. Virgo’s hands are glossed in heavenly gold, and they hold the precious orb of all life, nurturing the Christ Child inside. One of the earth’s most reverent tasks was left to the Virgo, the Divine Mother. She walks on the fresh grass, dipping her toes in the water, waiting for the call to dive, so the fishes of Pisces can rise from her. Virgo is where soul meets body, as the sand and sea of the earth reunites again with spirit, revealing the mastery of godly design and detail. 

Capricorn awakens a sign of mystery, an enigmatic unicorn heading one direction - forward. Capricorn is the guide and guardian of all the land, containing the knowledge of all seasons, processes, and laws. The full flower of all cosmic life comes into form through the hands of Capricorn, sculpted with the lines of the alchemist. Capricorn is confronted with routine crises, like still days followed by vicious hurricanes. She can battle these alone, on behalf of humanity, undertaking major tests to retain her flower crown. The earth signs are always preparing for a hurricane. And they can be very intuitive with weather patterns and howls from the earth, typically reflecting in their great concern for ecology and environmental protection. The earth signs inherit protection of nature, growing daisies in their hearts, worshiping the sun, and bathing in balmy air, frolicking in blossom skirts, surviving in the wild, aloe bleached, sun kissed earth child. 

-C.

[art: Jasmine Beckett-Griffith]

5 Times Pie Would Have Saved the Day in Classic Literature

It is a truth universally acknowledged that pie is beautiful and delicious, and classic novels are full of characters gritting through their complicated, difficult lives. But what if these characters had a heartwarming slice of pie? Things could have been very different…


1. Captain Ahab. Was ever a man more in need of a slice of coconut cream pie? Like the giant whale Moby Dick, coconut cream pie is large and white, but far less likely to induce unholy fury and a life-shattering revenge spree. Plus, Ahab would have to sail to some beautiful tropic isle to obtain the requisite coconuts, and a balmy tropic vacation could only do good things for his chilly temper.


2. Scarlett O’Hara. This feisty Southern belle has demonstrated time and again that she won’t give her heart away easily. The only solution to her inevitable loneliness is a cherry pie as bold, classic, and all-American as Scarlett herself.


3. Dorian Gray. Rich, dreamy, and devilishly smooth. Are we describing Dorian Gray or a chocolate silk pie? You don’t know, and that’s why they’re the perfect match. Perhaps if Dorian had been able to channel the passions of his youth into eating chocolate pies, he wouldn’t have turned out as dark and bitter as a Ghiradelli 86% cacao bar. Just sayin’.


4. Miss Havisham. Jilted at the altar. Left alone with her misery in a rotting home. Surrounded for years by reminders of her thwarted romance. This woman needs some SUNSHINE in her life, for goodness’ sake! No pie is better suited to the task than a cheery lemon meringue. Its pillowy meringue, sunny yellow curd, and buttery crust are enough to make anyone clear out the cobwebs and start spring cleaning.


5. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Look, man. We know you tried. But heading into a proposal with the general game plan of “Insult family, point out her inferiority, bring up class difference, overwhelm her with ardent love” was a pretty poor strategy, all things considered. Imagine how things might have gone over with Elizabeth B. if you had shown up, casually, with a steaming rhubarb pie. You could have told her her that the bold tartness of the rhubarb reminds you of her stinging wit, but that you believe she could also be subtly sweet. Things could have gone so much better for you, Darcy.

But, since you botched the first proposal attempt, maybe you should go practice swimming in the lake at Pemberley. Don’t ask us why.

The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.
—  Natalie Babbitt (Tuck Everlasting)
Ohana

Summary: “Ohana means family. And family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.” Everyone knows that Dan is a Lester and belongs on the family holiday–well, everyone except Dan himself. However, a beautiful seaside walk and a special surprise from Martyn and Cornelia may be just the ammunition he needs to change his mind.

Genre: Pure fluff

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Like 2 swear words but that’s it

A/N: Because we all know there was some soppy convincing needed to get Dan to stay in Florida. Inspired by this ask over @nihilist-toothpaste.
I hope you enjoy!!

Keep reading

Happy Warmth

#34: “You come into my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?”
- prompt list -

Para that one anon! Thanks for requesting, I love this prompt so much asdjhfasdf

A/N: WOW THIS IS FLUFFY AND IM ABOUT TO CRY IN CLASS ITS FREEZING AT MY SCHOOL AND HONESTLY THIS IS ALL I NEED
Word Count: 1.3k+ justablurb
Warnings: F L U F F WOW

Song:Technicolor Beat” by Oh Wonder


You pulled your blanket tighter over your tired shoulders, bunching its hem in your palms. Tonight was a cold night, one of the first nights of December, and it managed to reach you through the countless layers of fabric encasing you. The stinging chill of winter jolted you in and out of sleep, bringing you to a steady shudder as the night progressed. Your toes curled in your socks, knees tucked against your chest, as you began to drift.

And then there was the sharp rap on your window, the soft hum of your name from behind the glass. Your eyelids heavily opened, eyelashes sticky with exhaustion, broken sleep painting your irises.

That rap came again, impatient, demanding, warm against the night.

After recuperating from your daze of confusion, smeared with sleep-deprivation, you lifted your head to turn to the window. You turned because you knew it was him, in this deep of a night, in this chill of winter, he was there. Of course he would be there. Just what you needed.

And sure enough, there crouched a shuddering Peter, cheeks pink in need of warmth and breaths stained white with the icy air. He wore a large, navy sweatshirt, his “Stark Enterprises” hoodie, that he claimed to be his most prized possession. Sweatpants covered his legs, bunching at his hips from his stance. His hands were tucked under his armpits in a cross, his body shivering softly, untamed coffee curls falling over his forehead. He flashed a bright smile when you met his eyes. Bright and warm against the night and ice.

Scratching a clammy hand against your scalp, you uncurled your body and inched your feet over the side of the bed, socks brushing against the December-stained sheets. Just his presence helped you get to your feet, his warm eyes bubbling happiness in your chest.

With rigid fingers, you hoisted the window up, the breeze splashing against your cheeks. Instantaneously, Peter was hopping through the gap, fitting himself and his sweatshirt through the glass, slipping into the familiar room. Your room.

“Hey,” he breathed, sigh shaky. His hand reached and slammed the window shut, cutting off the circulation of the cold air outside. “Why is it - why is it so cold in here?”

His hands ran themselves up the back of his arms, attempting to rid his goosebumps. Brows furrowed, he observed your sleepy smile.

“The AC went out this afternoon,” you began, bringing a hand behind you to rub your neck, “and since it’s still partially working, our landlord refuses to fix it.” You shook your head in an annoyed laugh, voice raspy with exhaustion.

“Seriously?” Peter huffed, nose tugging up in disbelief. “Dude, that’s awful.”

You gave a small nod, crossing your arms tightly against your chest. So cold.

“But, uh,” you began, stuttering slightly, “why are you here? It’s like,” you gave a quick glance at your alarm clock, “4 o’clock.” Peter chuckled lightly, a small blush rising to his cheeks as he observed the ground.

“I just, uh, wanted to see you.”

And there was that smile again, pulling at his lips across a tightly clenched jaw, bringing a glow to his honey eyes. It was infectious, too, as it always had been. Your heart smiled along with the boy, your chest smiled, your eyes smiled, your lips smiled. He was just happiness.

“It was really cold, and I missed you,” he stammered, breathless, gaze breaking from yours. It was adorably flattering how giddy he was, how nervous, how excited, even now, after so long. This was Peter, had always been Peter, this was happiness.

With a light laugh, you moved towards him, freezing toes catching warmth as you neared. Resting your head in the crook of his neck, shoulder against his chest, arms still tightly bunched against your chest, you smiled into him. His arms gently wrapped themselves across your back, hugging you tighter and warmer and happier. He was warm, even though he was cold, he was warm. His touch was balmy and comforting and happy.

“It’s so cold, Peter,” you huffed, laughing lightly against the Stark logo.

“I know, I know,” he whispered into your hair, chapped lips catching small strands, arms running up and down your back in an effort to warm you. It worked; the blood was soon rushing through your limbs again, melting away the icy exterior that had been painted over you.

“But you know what?” you smiled, peering up to look at him. You rested a hand softly against the neck of his hoodie, palm pressing against the fabric.

“Hm?” Peter questioned, gaze dropping to meet your eyes. A messy smile laid on his lips.

“You’re pretty hot.”

You laughed, watching his cheeks heat with a light pink, watching his eyes grow a little wide with admiration, watching his chest lift as he inhaled a slightly deep breath than before. He broke into a light chuckle, flattered at your goofy remark.

“Uh, thanks,” he grinned, gripping your shoulders against him. He never, ever believed you when you complimented him on his looks, and you could tell that he didn’t entirely believe you now, with his jaw still tight, but it made him feel good. You knew it made him feel good, and bringing him the same happiness he gave to you was what you strived to do.

“You’re pretty cute, too,” he smiled, returning the compliment with sincerity.  He laid a small kiss on your hairline, before pulling you closer and rocking you in his arms. You could feel the smile on his chest, in his arms, dancing along his fingers. You could feel his smile, his happiness.

You swayed for a moment, soaking each other in. Relishing in the warmth, in the breathing, in the admiration and hope and love and longing. Because this was Peter, this was just what you needed, this was the heat to warm off the chill.

“Hey, uh, do you think I could crash here tonight?” His voice was soft and hesitant, kissing the air.

You nodded your head against his neck, nose brushing his Adam’s apple.

“Sure.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled into your hair, bringing his chin to rest on the top of your head. “I kind of don’t want to go back outside. It’s freezing.”

“I don’t blame you,” you sighed, closing your eyes and breathing him in.

“And I wanted to cuddle.”

His soft words brought that genuine contentment back to your thoughts and a bubble of laughter broke between your lips, tickling against his neck.

“Of course you do,” you breathed. “You come to my room and wake me up at 4am, just to cuddle.”

He laughed at this, the honeyed sound of his happiness summery in the icy air. He mumbled a small “yep”, chuckling against you.

And then you were both climbing into your bed, after Peter clumsily kicked his shoes off, folding the blankets over your limbs, coaxing the warmth out of each other’s cold bodies, snuggling tightly in the sheets. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight, his sock-covered feet tangling with yours. His balmy breaths fanned over your neck, slowing as he drifted into a light sleep. You held his hand in yours, running soft circles on his palm.

His chest was flush against your back, strong and comforting. His feeling was buttery and honeyed and warm and happy, surging waves of rolling contentment through your veins.

“This is perfect,” you muttered into your pillow, biting the inside of your cheek. So happy.

Peter hummed softly, agreeing, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck. His curls were spreading over you, the dusty brown mixing with your strands, his eyelids pleasantly closed.

“You’re perfect,” the boy sighed, the words tickling your neck, sending radiating surges of happiness, of Peter, down your collarbones, dripping across your chest, down your legs, and to your toes. His voice was sleepy and comforting and raspy and you relaxed beneath the heavy weight of his arms. You inhaled deeply, breathing in the moment, in his compliment, in him. Breathing in the cutting happiness of Peter against the frosty aroma of the air. 

So warm.


- -

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I’ll Do Better

Author: @randomoutsiders

Pairing: Archie Andrews x Reader

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Rough Sex, cute ass Reggie

“Dude! We’ve been rehearsing this play for I don’t even know how long. Get your head-“ Reggie jabbed harshly at the red-heads chest, a low growl erupting from his throat. “-In the fucking game. Let’s go.”

Archie bit back his spiteful words, not wanting to cause more trouble than there already was. His blood rushed angrily in his ears and he tugged the metal helmet from his head.

“I-I know. I’m sorry. I’m just not in it. I’ve got a lot on my mind” He sighed, attempting to settle the fire that ignited in the brunette that stood across from him. Although he meant music and schoolwork, Reggie had some other things on mind.

“Grundy, eh? I didn’t know you two were still snogging in the janitor’s closet after school.” He couldn’t help but throw in unnecessary comments whenever he could.

“Fuck off Reggie. I’m with (y/n). You know that.” The ginger hissed, finally cutting the tension with a knife made of harsh words.

“I doubt it. She’s hot. I mean, go with Grundy and I could have (Y/N). Damn, I could tap…that…ass.” He sighed, glancing at your form.

You were seated in the bleachers that were located near the football field, observing their practice. You were oblivious to their obvious dilemma, as it appeared as though they were talking about a play.

Archie’s jaw clenched in anger, his fists the following suit. “I’ll do better. Let’s just go one more time. I’ll get it this time. I promise.” The quarterback sighed, slipping the metal cage back over his head.

Leaning back onto the cool metal, you finally realized that something was wrong. However, the short practice as almost over, and you saw no point in making the issue bigger.

Sucking in a deep breath, you soaked in the sun, happy to finally get out. Every day was the same, wake up, realize you were sex-deprived, go to school, and then go straight back home.

You and Archie hadn’t had sex in over a week, with his overwhelming football schedule, and the amount of homework you had, it was all too much. You severely missed the natural high that you peaked at, his calloused touch and everlasting touches.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the daze, you glanced up to see that practice was over. Grabbing your backpack, you swung it over your shoulder and made your way down the metal steps.

You barely noticed how his brown eyes dilated with lust or how his hand grasped yours with so much strength it was desperate. “Come with me.” He hissed, practically dragging you to the boys’ locker rooms.

In an attempt to cease all movement, you stopped moving your feet. He halted, turning his attention from the school to you. “What the hell babe? Everyone’s in there.” You whimpered, scared of his piercing gaze.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me (Y/N). I’m really pissed off. I’m not in the mood to argue with you. Now start moving.” He growled, tugging on your hand.

You tugged back, noncompliant with his strange ways. “I am not going to go, and I am not going to deal with this bull until you tell me what the hell is wrong!” You growled back, slightly aroused with his dominance.

“You listen to me.” He seethed, stepping close to you, heat radiating off of his tone chest. All of the boys on the football team had gotten rid of their shirts as they walked up to the locker rooms. In his other hand, he held his equipment. “You will follow me into the locker rooms. We will go now because I am not waiting for everyone to finish. And they have a small meeting in Coach’s office.  Don’t test me (Y/N).” He hissed, turning his back to you.

He started walking, and this time you took small steps to keep up with him. His large strides were rationed huge compared to your tiny strides. Soon after you two walked for a prolonged, he roughly opened the door. Not bothering to lock the door he threw down his helmet and padding, not sparing a glance at you.

“Strip.” He simply stated, finally getting his cleats, socks, and pants off.

Feeling a bit defiant, you crossed your arms over your chest. This way, your chest was protruded, and very visible. His eyes glossed over in a new level of lust, and it was hard to comprehend what he would actually do to you. It was exhilarating, especially with the possibility of people entering.

“God, do I really have to do everything myself?” Archie hissed, walking over to you, clad only in his boxers. “I guess so.” You hummed in response, mewling has his large hands stripped the minimal clothing from your heated body.

“You will-” He grunted, his thumbs hooking in the waistband of his boxers as he pulled downwards. “Do whatever I say. And what is my name?” He questioned, fisting his shaft a few times.

“Daddy,” You replied, kneeling down onto the cool aluminum floors. Your perfectly manicured fingernails gently grazed over his swollen tip, collecting the precum that managed to cover it.

“And you’re such a bad girl, aren’t you?” He hissed, grabbing a fistful of your hair. Your flattened your tongue against the protruding vein on the underside of his large cock, dragging it all the way along his shaft. “God, you have no clue how bad I want to face-fuck you right now.” He moaned, twitching in your tender grip.

“Then do it.” You complied, pressing small kisses along the tip. Before he could say anything, you already felt the swollen tip touch the back of your throat.

Closing your eyes, you willed yourself not to gag, desperate to please the ginger. His hips snapped forward a few times before pulling away to allow you to breathe. You sucked in large breaths, extremely happy. You fisted his shaft, slowly moving it up at down. A line of saliva connected you to his large girth, and it was amazing. Until he got his release, Archie did this a few times before you tasted the warm, salty liquid on your taste buds. The small twitch was your favorite part.

Desperate to get all of it, you opened your mouth hungrily as Archie dumbed his load into it, his hand moving quickly to make sure it was all gone. He hissed, hips bucking into thin air as more poured down your aching throat.

Suddenly, he grabbed your face roughly, pulling it up to meet his gaze. “Swallow it baby girl, Do it for daddy.” He cooed softly, grabbing the back of your thighs.

You swallowed all of it compliantly, jumping to satisfy his requests. Lining up with your entrance, he slowly filled you up. He sighed in content, slamming you up against the lockers. You whimpered in gratification, tangling your fingers in his unruly hair.

His hips moved quickly, desperate to get some form of release for the second time in 10 minutes. Your cunt throbbed, happy to get some attention.

“Y-Yes Daddy! Right there. Right there.” You mewled, reaching between the two of you to press your thumb to your swollen clitoris. You yelped out in an elated fashion, your back arching to meet his balmy touch. His rough hands slammed you back into the cool metal, his own calloused finger replacing yours.

“You are all fucking mine. You hear me? Tell me you’re all mine.” He seethed, ignoring the chatter from the other room.

“Y-Yes Daddy! I-I’m all yours.” Attaching his lips to your rosy buds, he sucked harshly, biting down to make his mark.

You cried out, tugging harshly on his red locks. He grunted messily, his thrusts become sloppy and irregular. Pulling out, he dropped your thighs, allowing you to lean up against him for support.

Strings of his discharge covered the both of you, although you didn’t care.

In a few mere minutes, the locker room door swung open, revealing the jocks.

Archie stood alone, backpack in hand. “Hey, guys, what’s up?”

Reggie rose an eyebrow. “What the hell were you…” He mumbled, disoriented.

“Nothing to be concerned about. Just learning how to deal with my anger.”

Texas Gothic

- “Remember the Alamo,” people say. They glance toward the horizon with fear in their eyes and plan their yearly pilgrimage to San Antonio.  The Alamo does not like to be forgotten.

- The lake is not natural. It was built as a reservoir, everyone says, but when you go out on your cousin’s boat, you always see strange movements in your wake. In summer, when the water level drops low and lower still, bare branches reach from below the surface, strangely twisted and contorted. The lake lodges close down. Your cousin puts his boat in storage. No one mentions that there are more branches this summer than last. No one mentions how they move even when there’s no wind.

- Each winter, the Northerners come, driving in by the dozens from Michigan and New York and Oregon, even Canada. “We’re getting too old to brave the snow,” they tell you. “It’s so warm here! Such balmy weather. You must love living here year ‘round.” They look somehow thinner than they were when they arrived, eyes fever-bright and fingers twitching nervously. “Such nice weather,” they whisper. “So warm.”

- “Everybody’s somebody in Luckenbach,” proclaims a T-shirt in the back of your closet. You have never been to Luckenbach, and neither has anyone you know. The shirt hangs there as a reminder: someday Luckenbach will call to you, and you will not be able to resist.

- It is fifty degrees out and everyone you pass in the street is in heavy winter gear, as though their skin feels a chill that the thermometer doesn’t register. 

-  In the night, you hear gunshots. “It’s okay,” your mother says. “Just dove hunters.” You  know it’s not dove season, but you go back to bed anyway. It’s better than thinking of alternative reasons for the gunfire.

- After a day of excruciating heat, the skies open and rain pours down. At first, you’re delighted, but as the rain goes on and on, you start calling family members to make sure they’re on high ground. The rivers rise and flow over the roads, dividing the town into a series of islands, and still it rains. There’s a dip in the road at the entrance to your neighborhood, and it fills with water. You count your canned foods and check the weather-proofing on your doors and windows. It is still raining. You no longer remember what dry ground looks like.

- You pass a recent roadkill on the highway. In the split-second glimpse you get of it, it seems too big for a deer. There are too many limbs. A high-pitched ringing starts up in your ears and you quickly look away. When you drive past the spot again later that day, there’s nothing there.

- “Texas-sized,” says the 64-ounce cup you bought at the gas station. “Texas-sized,” brags the diner about its burgers. “Texas-sized,” whispers your neighbor, pointing out the tracks in your lawn. They look like coyote tracks, but they’re ten inches across.

Up to Fate

Request: reader meets Bill at a premier for It, He flirts with her, they hit off, she invites him back her place and fluffy sex ensues. Hope you enjoy! 💙

When the chaos inevitably becomes too much, you begin your search for a quieter place to rest before the film starts. You find refuge in a bar tucked into the corner of the building and order a double gin and tonic, two limes on the side. You weren’t exactly sure how you got yourself into this predicament but it definitely had something to do with your brother needing a plus-one to the Hollywood film premier of a movie he had little to no actual involvement in. He had already found your seats but the idea of sitting in a crowded theatre for more than fifteen minutes without anything actually occurring, made your skin crawl.

You’re about to order another cocktail when someone takes the seat next to you, gesturing to the bartender. “A stoli on the rocks and… whatever the lady wants.” You glance to the stranger sitting next to you, wide-eyed. He’s extremely tall and devastatingly handsome.   

Handle this properly, you remind yourself. “While the gesture is a appreciated, I don’t really need you to buy my next drink,”

“A thank you usually suffices in this instance.” He chuckles, sliding your drink over to you. Your cheeks burn hot, and you know that he’s right so you thank him for the gesture.

He’s about to open his mouth to say something else when someone in the distance calls out to him. You watch as he swills back the last of his vodka, slaps a hand on the counter and turns to you. “What would you say if I told you that you were the most beautiful woman here?” 

You take a decent swig of your gin and tonic, and set the almost empty glass down on the wooden counter in front of you. “I’d call you a bloody liar; and I’d tell you that you’re stepping on my dress.”

His gaze travels south, and he let’s an expletive fall from his mouth when he realizes he has indeed been standing on your dress. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

You shake your head, grinning. “Guess it’s a good thing it’s a rental, huh?”

The taller man scratches at the back of his head, smiling brightly at you. “It has been the greatest pleasure to be able to share a quick drink with you this evening.”

“What’s your name?” You shout out after him when you realize you never actually got it in the first place.
He turns back on his heel, beaming. “It’s Bill!” 

It’s Bill. 

And that’s all it takes; it’s funny how someone can waltz that easily into your life. You had woken up that morning completely oblivious to what was about to happen and here you are now, halfway through a film about a terrifying demon clown and all you can think of is Bill.   

It’s only at the close of the film that your brother turns to you and says, “I’d like to introduce you to someone.” You’re about to protest; you’ve got plenty of other things to be doing… but alas, your evening is wide open. You watch him stand up and wave to someone in the distance. “Come on!” He whispers excitedly.

You notice the shoes first; taught, shiny leather and as your eyes travel further and finally rest on his face, you can’t help but smile like an idiot. “We meet again.” 

Bill outstretches his hand for you to shake. “Fate has an interesting way of doing that, huh?”

“You guys know each other?” The comfortable silence is punctuated by your brother’s understandable confusion.

“Not really, no. We shared a drink at the bar before the premier.” Your brother nods slowly, the pieces falling together. “The film was incredible by the way,” you offer up to Bill. “Truly. Your acting was impeccable.”

A soft smile breaks across his face and he bows towards you. “Thank you very much. This uh… this film meant a lot for me to do and I almost can’t believe it’s out already. I kind of have to keep pinching myself.”

“Should we head to bar then? Celebrate a little? A few of the crew members are heading to a new spot downtown.” Your brothers tone is hopeful but you don’t think you can bare another few hours in these heels.

“I’m actually going to head to my car but you should definitely go out and have some fun.” You smile, poking him teasingly in the ribs. He’s about to protest, but decides against it and simply nods instead.

“I will walk you out to your car,” Bill offers and you fight to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You watch as he throws a friendly arm around your brother’s shoulder. “Was great seeing you tonight, man. Thanks for showing up to support.”

Goosebumps rise in small patterns on your arms when you enter out into the balmy September evening and it takes only seconds before Bill’s offering up his navy suit jacket to you, which you accept graciously. “You came alone tonight?” You ask, trying to sound as in interested as possible.

Bill shakes his head. “No, I came with my two brothers and their dates. But they left pretty soon after the movie ended.”

“Would you like to come back to mine? I owe you a drink.” You’re at your car; It’s a long shot and probably somewhat inappropriate but you have this particular feeling about Bill that you couldn’t knock even if you tried.
“I’d love that.” He grins.

The car ride is uneventful, only broken by periods of small conversation. He’s from Sweden, is the third youngest in a family of eight children, and loves his mother dearly. At one point you can actually feel his gaze boring a hole into the side of your face and you smile shyly. “You’re just incredibly attractive.” He offers up when you confront him about it. You’re suddenly grateful that it’s dark in the car, the heat in your neck and cheeks is almost too intense.

“This is it,” You murmur once you’ve got the key in the lock and the door open. “Make yourself at home.” You kick off your heels and place them inside the coat closet of your apartment. Bill follows suit behind you, leaving his shoes by the mat at the front door. “What can I make you to drink?” You ask.

Bill shrugs his shoulders. “Anything, really. I’m not too particular with alcohol.”
You hang his suit jacket against the back of your kitchen chair and set to work making him a pisco sour. You’re trying in vain to remember the exact recipe when Bill simply says, “Come here.”

You do as you’re told and join him at the window in your living room. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you without hesitation, your arms circle his waist and this is actually happening. He pulls away, kisses just beneath your ear and simply says, “I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you sitting at the bar tonight.”

“Do it again,” you whisper breathlessly. Bill grins at this and kisses you hard again, it’s so intense you’re worried for a second that you’ll pass out. Bill pulls away again though this time it’s to turn you around so that you’re facing the window.

“Lets get this beautiful thing off of you.” His long fingers brush the soft skin of your back as he slowly unzips the dress, pausing every now and then to press his lips to the skin there. You let the pleasant shivers wrack your body. He reaches around to your front to squeeze your breast and you involuntarily moan into the touch. You’re pretty sure you feel him smile into your shoulder, which turns you on even more. He unclasps your bra with near expert skill and slowly pulls your panties down your legs. “So fucking beautiful,” He groans into your neck and you feel weak. He turns you back around again so that you’re facing him, completely stark naked. He kneels down to the ground, slowly kissing down your body as he goes. Your heart is hammering so hard in your chest you’re almost wondering if he can hear it. He stops just above your vagina, placing gentle kisses to your inner thighs. “Place your leg over my shoulder, baby.” He says softly and again, you do as you’re told. He parts you with ease and begins to lap slowly at your tight, wet core.

“Oh my god,” you moan, throwing your head back a little too hard against the glass window pane. Your fingers find purchase in his hair and you fight the urge to grind yourself against his face. His ministrations are slow and deliberate at first and you’re in danger of coming too soon. You remember that he’s also doing all of this in a three-piece suit and you have to tell yourself to breathe. He sucks your clit into his mouth and you bring a hand to yours to keep from screaming out. It’s a constant pattern; deliberate laps against your folds and then your clit in his mouth. It’s only when his teeth scrape over the sensitive bundle of nerves that you actually do scream out into the air before you.

“You going to come for me baby?” he asks, and all you can do is nod soundlessly. He pulls away to insert two fingers into you and a few more slow, hard licks and you’re coming in overpowering waves against his face. His rides it out with you and places a kiss to your vagina when he’s finished. It’s only when he straightens up that you notice the tent form hard and tight against his trousers. Wordlessly, you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom down the hall.   

You’re both quiet as you set to work undressing him, taking time to marvel at the soft, alabaster skin beneath his shirt. He’s watching you intently, a small smile evident on his face. He pulls down his boxers and moves to the side of your bed, glancing at the drawer next to it. “They’re in there.” You nod and watch, amused as he reaches in, grabs a condom, rips open the foil packaging with his teeth and rolls it on. “I’d like you to ride me.” The confession is so quiet you almost don’t hear it. You swallow hard and watch as he positions himself on your bed, half sitting up, his back rests against your wooden headboard. “Come here, baby.”

You stumble over to him, legs still weak from your previous orgasm. You place both hands on top of his shoulders, one leg on either side of his and sink yourself onto his fully erect penis. “Holy fuck,” Bill gasps, dropping his head to your collarbone. You begin to bounce rhythmically on top of him, letting your head fall back as he begins to hit that one particular spot inside of you. He plants his hands firmly on top of your hips. “So fucking wet,” He groans loudly in pleasure.

“Just for you,” you whisper against the shell of his ear; this alone causes him to involuntarily buck his hips against yours and you cry out in pleasure.

“I need more,” Bill moans, and physically lifts you off of him. You know almost immediately that he wants to do it doggy style so you position yourself on all fours and wait for him to start. He positions himself behind you, placing chaste kisses down the length of your spine. “Here we go,” He murmurs, pushing himself inside of you. His thrusts are slow at first and then they begin to pick up tempo and it’s all you can do to keep from screaming out into thin air. You arch your back for him, and he taps your bottom lightly. “Not going to last much longer like this, y/n.” A few more finite thrusts into you and he’s tumbling over the edge, groaning your name into the damp skin of your back. “Oh my fucking god,” He gasps, pulling out and collapsing into the space next to you. He kisses the back of your head and pulls you into his embrace.

You take a deep breath and let it out, revelling in his touch. “Just so this is clear… I am not in the habit of sleeping with famous Swedish men the first night I meet them.”

Bill presses a soft kiss to your neck. “Just so you and I are clear… you were, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman there tonight.”

2

When Rosa Glover brought her 19-month-old son, Shane Walker, to a playground in Harlem, New York, she didn’t expect tragedy to strike. Neither did the mother of 2-year-old Christopher Dansby, who had brought her son to the exact same playground just three months earlier. These two families would be bound together by eerily similar tragedies when both young boys inexplicably disappeared from this very park as it was still light outside.

It was a balmy evening on the 10th of August, 1989, when Rosa took her son to the playground situated beside the Martin Luther King Jr. Towers housing project. As she sat on the bench, a 10-year-old girl and her 5-year-old brother asked if they could play with Shane to which Rosa agreed although she found it somewhat strange because Shane was so much younger than them. As the children played, a man came and sat beside Rosa on the bench and struck up a conversation about the recent kidnapping and how places weren’t safe no longer. Her head was turned for no longer than a couple of minutes but by the time she turned back to check on Shane, he was gone. The two children who had been playing with him then reappeared through a hole in the fence; they told Rosa they had left Shane in the park. He was nowhere to be found.

The disappearance of Christopher bares striking similarities. He too disappeared from the same playground just three months prior. He too was last seen playing with the same two children that Shane was seen playing with. Another child at the park later told police that he had seen Christopher walking along West 111th street in the company of an African America man with braids. The boy and the girl who were playing with Christopher and Shane were questioned extensively but denied any involvement in their disappearance.

Authorities considered the possibility that both boys disappearances were connected to a black market baby-ring operation. Whatever happened to them, it certainly seems like more than a coincidence. Neither Christopher or Shane have been found.

There’s an area of Seoul which has managed to retain a lot of pre-war/colonial architecture, markedly different from a lot of the cookie-cutter buildings built nowadays: high ceilings, huge, wall-length windows, etc. Because the buildings are so old, they can’t be developed, which means elevators can’t be installed. This, in turn, means that the rent stays low, and it’s becoming the perfect place for artists and designers who can’t afford to be in, say, Hongdae.

We climbed to the top of this one, right in the heart of the city, built in 1937. We drank wine from red cups and enjoyed the cool breeze, a welcome retreat from the normally humid Seoul summer.

anonymous asked:

Nurseydex - Nurse is mad someone hit on Dex.

“This is weird.”

“It’s not that weird, bro.”

“No, but Holtz, it’s weird.”

“Rans, I’ve been telling you for years, you’ve been undervaluing his hotness.”

And Nursey cannot believe that this is his life right now: sitting in a steamy bar off of Myrtle Beach watching his Not Boyfriend get chatted up by a hella cute couple at the bar where he was supposed to be ordering the team drinks. Oh, and also listening to Ransom and Holster debate his hotness.

“Slow down there, pal, I’m not saying Dex isn’t hot – but get picked up by couple DTF hot??? I don’t know bro.”

“Well, buddy, the proof’s in front of your eyes,” Holster says gesturing to the tableau before them.

And there’s no denying it. The couple, they’re clearly into Dex. One – bikini-clad, petite, curvaceous – leans forward to place a hand on Dex’s arm. Whatever she says as she does draws one of Dex’s shy laughs. Her partner – chiseled, with a jawline to kill, and lips that draw the eye – smiles and comes in closer, making the bubble around the three of that much smaller.

“You underestimate the appeal of his wholesomeness,” Holster continues.

“And his competence!” Bitty plops down onto Holster’s lap, clearly enjoying his latest margarita. “Watching that boy work with his hands…” Bitty trails off on a hum.

“Do I need to be worried?” 

“Jack Laurent,” and if the ooey gooey heart-eyes that Bitty bats up at Jack don’t clear that up, his tone certainly does. 

And now there’s an echo chamber of love and relational confidence that has Nursey pushing away from the crowded table to go find somewhere he can breathe. 

A hand tugs at the flannel he’d thrown on as they’d left the beach to prowl for food and booze before he can get too far away from the table. 

Let no man ever say that Chris Chow is not the kindest of bros. 

“I’m good, Chow, just – the crowd you know.” 

The complicated tumble of emotions on Chowder’s face tells Nursey that he knows just what a load of bullshit that is and exactly what it really is but is also going to respect Nursey’s decision not to deal with that right now even though he strongly disagrees. And that’s what makes Chowder the best: concern, compassion, respect. 

Nursey pushes his way through the crowd and finally makes it outside. The night air is cool now, the balmy ocean breeze strong along the pier. The stores and restaurants are too bright for all but the brightest stars to shine through. But the moon – the moon is full and low and –


drifted behind wispy clouds in the soft warmth of late May. 

Nursey looked for the Sea of Tranquility, prayed that he’d breath enough of that peace in not to somehow ruin this moment.

Dex had agreed to let Nursey use his truck to move his things from the dorm to the Haus if Nursey agreed to help Dex move his things, too. The answer to that was a no-brainer: if Dex was voluntarily requesting his time, he’d be there. 

So they’d spent the day moving their things. Nursey, much to his own surprise, was the lighter packer. His notebooks, poetry anthologies, essay collections and clothes had nothing on the veritable museum’s worth of technology that they hauled out of Dex’s dorm (“It’s all stuff I had to salvage and repair myself, man.”) 

They’d gotten it all into the Haus, but the atmosphere had been heavy with the seniors’ anxiety and nostalgia as they started packing up for the last time and planning a reunion trip for late July.

Dex had only to look his way before they were both moving, heading out to the truck, and then driving out to their spot (Nursey was still confused about how he’d managed to somehow have a Spot with a guy who he wasn’t even sure considered him a friend, but, well) – the grassy expanse just outside of campus where you could almost forget that there was school and hockey and phone calls and family beyond it.

Without words, they’d unrolled Nursey’s reading quilt (“it’s not for picnics, bro”) in the truck bed and both lain down. They hadn’t done it in a while, but it hadn’t lost its familiarity. Or its ability comfort.

It was something Nursey had come to miss, and so he wasn’t going to blow it. He was going to channel Tranquility and just breathe.

“I don’t hate you, you know?”

That’s interesting because, “Going into an overnight vigil over our toss and then avoiding me for a couple months really gets that point across.”

“Nurse –”

“No, it really makes a guy trust that all the work invested in –”

“Nursey –”

“Into actually communicating with you, and getting to know you, and letting you know me –”

“Derek! I like you.

He stopped, glaring at Derek from where he’d pushed himself against one wall of the truck bed.

“Like, I have this weird crush thing that is totally not your issue to deal with but also not a reason we shouldn’t be friends and I’m sorry for being a jerk about it but – yeah.”

“Really? That’s it?”

“That’s it? What am I saying - you’re probably used to this or some shit.”

“Uh, no. Unless you mean being the one having the weird-crush-thing, in which case, yeah. That happens.”

“Oh. Ok. So what do you usually do about it?”

“Well, to be honest, they’re not usually mutual.”

“Quit bullshitting me.”

“Will –”

“Shit, sorry.” Because they’d laid out ground rules, back when they’d realized they might actually be driving Chowder to ulcers, about how they had to to engage. They weren’t allowed to disbelieve the other based on a faulty preconception.

“I’m serious. So, this is a bit new for me.”

“This is – wait. You’re saying – you mean this weird crush thing in particular is mutual.”

“Yeah.”

“Derek –”

“Give me your hand. I’ll show you.”


But that had been before they left for the summer. Before Nursey had flown off halfway around the world to spend actual time with his moms. Before Dex had gotten busy with his Google internship.

They’d kept in touch, kind of, if sporadic texts and the group chat counted. Time differences and project deadlines mattered though. Maybe too much time had passed. Maybe what they’d had in May had finally given Dex the confidence to –

“Hey,” the voice is deep and warm. The calloused hand that’s pressed to Nursey’s chest beneath the open panels of his flannel is so very welcome.

Nursey’s heart begins to pound underneath the weight of it. 

He opens his eyes to watch Will’s face. Will’s caramel eyes are watching his hand, seemingly shocked that his touch could make Nursey react like this.

“Hey.”

“You okay? You disappeared.”

Nursey attempts a smile but stops when it only makes Will frown and shrugs instead. It jostles Will’s hand, but he just settles it at Nursey’s hip instead.

“You seemed a bit busy is all.”

“The couple at the bar, right? That was weird!” Will’s face goes red about the cheeks. “I didn’t even realize they wanted, um, to, uh, well, what they wanted until a minute ago, and uh.”

“What’d you tell ‘em?” Will is here with his hands on Nursey’s skin. He’s pretty confident about what the gist of Will’s response must have been, but he can’t help wanting to know for sure.

“Well,” Will says, a quiet conviction settling over his shoulders in spite of his earlier embarassment, “that I just got into a relationship and hadn’t really had time to figure out if we were ready for that kind of exploration, and – to be honest – I’m probably too possessive an asshole to ever really want to share like that.”

“You can be an asshole.”

“Derek –”

“Do you call me that because no one else does?”

“Does it bother you?”

“No, I’m just trying to see if I can see it. The heretofore unmentioned possessive streak,” he explains at Will’s raised brow.

Will brings a hand up to cup Nursey’s jaw. He runs a thumb across Nursey’s bottom’s lip, gentle but proprietary. It sends a shiver down Nursey’s spine.

“Come here. I can show you.”

“hey magnus, i was wondering–”

it was a balmy spring night, just chilly enough that the breeze was slightly biting as it blew through the open doors to the balcony. alec had been in the study for about an hour now. he had told himself he was going to write reports but somewhere along the way that idea was forgotten.

instead he started running his fingers over the spines of all of the books and gathering himself a little pile he wanted to read. the only problem was that he found one that looked really interesting - sporting the name m. bane curling around the spine - but it was in a language he didn’t know and had never seen before. magnus’s books were always his favorites to read so he had been planning to ask him if there was a copy in another language anywhere, but that plan died in his throat the minute he walked into the living room.

because there in between the pillars and couches, magnus was on the floor doing pushups. an hour ago alec had left him out on the balcony honing his magic. when he left magnus had been wearing a grey tank top, but now it was crumpled, discarded on the floor. needless to say, magnus was doing shirtless pushups with the warm lamp light catching on the sweat slicking his broad back. alec forgot he had wanted anything, let alone to ask a question, as he stood there staring with his lips parted.

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