dirty-house

--- au: seconda guerra mondiale

BIOGRAFIA

“In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.”

Born in Verona, in a dirty little house on a dirty little street in one of those parts of town where sunlight can’t quite penetrate the pervasive squalor. His parents were petty thieves, petty and unremarkable. Once their son was old enough to walk, they taught him how to steal. Despite the things they had stolen, they were poor people, poor and ordinary. From a young age, Orpheus found them disappointing.

Armed with the tricks his parents had taught him, a little ladro flourished in the less savoury districts of Verona. But the efforts of his parents were not enough. They stole like it was an obligation rather than a calling, always with that same put-upon look that belied a yearning for better things, for a life lived outside the shadows. Orpheus saw their fervent attempts to purify their souls and turned his nose up. Already he knew that they were too pedestrian for him, that he had outgrown them in so many ways. When he was six he stole a diamond necklace from a jewellery shop, a bigger score than his parents had pulled off in years. He sat in an alleyway with it for a few hours, just looking at the way light danced within the crystalline stone, then gave it to the homeless woman who lived at the end of his street, because she would always feed him a pastry when she had one to spare, and he thought that if he presented her with a gift she might give him more.

His brother was one of the few lights in his life. From the moment Orpheus saw little Hermes, he knew that this would be his one tether to the trappings of ordinary people’s lives, his one weakness, a single chink in the already impervious coat of armour that he’d forged for himself. The nine years between them didn’t seem to matter, not when Orpheus had donned the mantle of protector and had acquired the purest, most kind-hearted acolyte.

As he grew, so did the reach of his shadow, so did the black desires that pulsed in the space where a heart should have been. He stole more, fought more, made a name for himself as the dark king beneath the streets, making use of people’s poverty and their faith to galvanise an army of devotees. His parents could do little but watch as their son surpassed them, and Orpheus made sure to remind them at every turn that he had done what they never could. His empire grew vast and dark, drawing in the most macabre cast of players. And Orpheus sat at the top of his heap of bones and knew that this was what he was born to do.

When war broke, Hermes was first in line to enlist, naturally siding with the Allies over the darkness that was pouring from Germany like water. Orpheus laughed and laughed at this blind altruism, but pulled some strings and got his brother a place within the ranks of the resistance. When war came knocking on his door, however, he turned his head away, lip curled into a sneer, refusing outright to throw himself in the path of bullets for the benefit of so-called leaders who didn’t give a damn about the droves of bodies they were sending to the slaughter. He stayed in Verona, kept his hold on the city’s underbelly as tight as it had been, and allowed the chaos of war to drop opportunity into his lap. The darkness of war turned into business, and Orpheus thought that he could wait out the rest of the conflict sat comfortably in Verona, watching men massacre each other from afar and feeling nothing for either side.

But fate has a funny way of messing up even the best-laid plans, and Orpheus’ conscientious objecting would cost him dearly. His parents died early in the war, killed by a mortar bomb as they were attempting to flee the country (or something to that effect - Orpheus hadn’t been interested in the specifics). He didn’t think of them again after that, but he thought of his brother a lot. And that was to be his punishment.

The telegram arrived early and unceremoniously one morning, the death notice printed in clipped and unemotional Italian. Two measly little sentences to summarise the greatest life that Orpheus had ever known. It didn’t seem enough. It would never be enough. He cried that day, cried and cried until it felt like he’d cried all the tears out of him, and when he was done crying, he decided to act. Joining the Resistance seemed like the logical thing to do, the best way to honour his brother’s memory, and so he finally chose a side, drifting over to the rebels like a spectre, ready to do his part if need be. The outcome of the war was still of little personal consequence to him, but for his brother’s sake Orpheus thought he might as well try and tip the scales towards the side of the light, for once.

FATTI

  • Has done many different kinds of business during the war, very few of them legal. No one but him quite knows the reach of his influence.
  • His prime source of income is smuggling - can get you anything you need, anything you could ever dream of, but for a price. Always.
  • Also moonlights as a gun/knife-for-hire, someone who can take care of problems that people are too afraid or too ashamed to deal with themselves.
  • Enjoys killing, and makes no secret of this. His preferred weapons are knives (they feel so much more personal, he says), but he’s happy to use a gun if need be, or simply to swing his fists.
  • Precisely what he does for the resistance, no one really knows. But safe to say that he’s always there, present somewhere on the fringes, ready to materialise out of the shadows like a demon of some kind.
  • Runs a series of underground bars throughout the city, which are generally the haunt of Verona’s criminal elements but which he’s offered up to the resistance as points of refuge.
  • Never, ever talks about his past. Is quite content to let people think that he grew out of the ground like a poisonous plant, or simply came into being like some sort of infernal creature. If anyone asks why someone so obviously not virtuous joined the side of the Allies, he just shrugs and says that he thought it’d be fun to try killing some Germans.
  • War hasn’t changed him, not in the way that it’s changed others. He had a dark soul and no heart before, and he’s just as heartless now. But the loss of the only person he ever truly loved has twisted that heartlessness, sharpened it into unfettered cruelty. Mentioning anything to do with Hermes, in any way (no matter how roundabout) is akin to stepping on a minefield. Beware.

CONNESSIONI

  • TBA.
Legit Tip #188

or - “Writing Better, More Detailed Descriptions”

Look. Writing good descriptions is hard. 

On the one hand, you can go too simple. When you do that you run the risk of not giving your readers enough to go on. That leaves your story feeling a little bit dry. Underwhelming. 

On the other hand, you run risk of giving the impression you chucked a thesaurus at your draft. Everybody’s done this, experienced and inexperienced writers alike.

Good description is organic. It flows naturally in a story, and there are a few things that you can keep in mind to help you write better descriptions. Here are a few things that can prevent some of the most common description writing mistakes (and that can boost your description writing skills if you need a little help in that area). 

Write What Your Character Senses

This is the first and most obvious thing. I said that description should be organic, and the best way to keep it organic is to keep yourself in your character’s place. 

I don’t mean that you should write everything in your character’s POV. But if you imagine yourself as your character, and in your character’s place, it can give you a position from which you can see the world around them and notice the details that they would notice. 

And do take note of what I just said. What would they notice in a given situation? What would be the most important details in a given situation? These details are the descriptive details that make a scene pop and give it life and give it atmosphere and make it different from all the other scenes in your story. 

For example:

Fiona hesitated at the doorway. The scent of cigarette smoke wafted out from the house, mingling strangely with that of freshly cut grass in the spring air outside. 

“Are you coming?” asked James, and exhaling slowly she followed him into a dingy house with yellow-stained wallpaper. 

Right. So the details you see here - cigarette smoke, yellow wallpaper, etc. - contrasting with freshness outside…

It doesn’t just show that the house is dirty. It sets up a start contrast between the dirty interior and the freshness outside. It helps create a significant mood shift. In not-so-many words I’ve conveyed a lot just through what my character is sensing about her environment by picking out the most relevant details.

Don’t Be Afraid to Keep it Simple

Sometimes your story calls for descriptive words like cerulean or cavernous or crepuscular. But a majority of the time, you’ll actually benefit from using a simpler term or phrase. 

The reason for this is simple. When you bust out a word or phrase that doesn’t fit with the words and phrases around it, you break the flow of your storytelling. That throws readers off. (Which isn’t to insult readers - they may know perfectly well what the word means, but when a word doesn’t fit, it doesn’t fit.)

Consider the two sentences - 

She fled into the cavernous forest. 

She fled into the deep forest.

Which would fit better in an action sequence? I think the answer is pretty clear.

Variety is the Spice of Life (But Don’t be Afraid to Repeat Yourself)

In school, our teachers taught us that repeating words was a cardinal sin of writing. Fortunately, that’s not really true. Readers don’t really sit there with a red pen and mark off every time writers repeat words and phrases in their stories. Shockingly, writers don’t even really notice when writers do this (unless it really does happen to excess).

So, when it comes to description, here’s something to think about. Do vary things. Do think about changing up the way you describe the world around your characters. Think about describing scents at one point, and then shifting to sounds, and then maybe describing the visuals at another point. 

However, don’t be afraid to repeat words or phrases if the need strikes you. It won’t kill you and your readers won’t hate you for it. If it works for the story then it’s perfectly fine to do it. It’s that simple.

I could probably go on and on about descriptions - it’s one of my favorite parts of writing - but I’ll save that for another time and come up with another post. For now, take this and go write some great descriptions in your own stories!

ssree  asked:

Tsuna, after sealing of his flames, becoming near-invisible to everyone.

The day Sawada Tsunayoshi turns five, he ceases to exist within Namimori. Even to his own mother.

It’s a tragedy, one that, were it not for Hibari Kyouya, would have ended in the death of a child.

But Kyouya finds him one day locked out of his house, dirty and crying with a too-thin frame and badly dehydrated. He’s cold, not cruel, so he takes Tsuna to his mother, who seems to immediately know what’s going on. She takes Tsuna to Kyouya’s father, and that’s the last Kyouya sees of the tiny herbivore for nearly two weeks.

When he does see him again, he’s smiling shyly and looking much healthier. Kyouya’s parents watch him with keen eyes the same way they used to do to Kyouya, but they smile when Tsuna comes up to them and asks them something.

Later, they pull Kyouya in with them and introduce Tsuna. “He’s your little brother,” Kyouya’s father says sternly. “No matter who comes after him, always protect him.”

Kyouya takes his father’s words to heart. At first he’s unsure about the baby herbivore. But it doesn’t take long for him to realize that he likes Kyouya. Tsuna smiles at him, bright and cheerful, but not obnoxiously so, and obediently follows where Kyouya leads. Even later, when Kyouya receives his first pair of tonfa and sparring lessons, he follows.

He follows to Nami Middle, where Kyouya reigns unchallenged. Tsuna quickly establishes himself as the Precious Baby Brother who has an unfortunately Crazy Older Brother, and the people in his class are quick to flock to him for help. They somehow think he’s capable of controlling Kyouya, or barring that, changing his mind. It’s amusing, especially since half the time Tsuna’s actually the one to egg him on, the little brat.

But still, Tsuna finds amusement in the deception, so Kyouya allows him his fun. Not always, because he does have a school to run, but often enough that they’re both satisfied with the way things go.

And then the man called Reborn shows up on Tsuna’s thirteenth birthday, and everything changes.

If The Gang Shared A House Together

Ted: He would be making majority of the income to support the household as a whole, therefore he would get the biggest bedroom in the entire house. There would always be a bottle of red wine in the fridge and he’d have a glass of it every once in a while. Everyone in the house would think he would have the most class, but in reality he has ladies in and out of the house frequently. He doesn’t want to use his bed to have intercourse so he usually uses Adam’s bed because his room is always clean.

Adam: He would spend all day vacuuming and cleaning the house from top to bottom. As soon as he was done, he’d flop onto the couch, only for one of the other boys to burst in the door, tracking mud all over the carpet. On the very rare occasion that Adam would have the house to himself, he would blast Rihanna as loud as the speakers would go and loose himself in the music. When he would try to twerk, it would resemble a baby bird learning to fly for the very first time. In the midst of all the dancing, he’d knock over a lamp. He’d blame it on TJ and yell at all of the lads about how they would need to be more careful.

Jeffrey: The weird smell drafting through the vents would be Jeffrey’s doing. He’d be knocking out animals to disect using chloroform. Jeffrey going downstairs while wearing a gas mask would be a normal and frequent thing going on. Sometimes when Jeff would be doing work on animals he’d forget to put a sign on the door that said DO NOT OPEN, so he’d end up knocking out poor Richard who just came to tell him dinner was ready.

TJ: He would probably be the biggest slob in the house. Dirty boxers left on the stairs would be the reason Dylan fell down the stairs. He’d steal Ted’s wine just to make him mad and then put the bottle back after Ted went out and bought a whole other bottle. He wouldn’t care about anything at all getting broke or ruined except for the secret baby blanket he still slept with under his normal covers.

Richard: He likes his food spicy. Instead of adding peppers and other things to his own food like a normal person would, he’d dump it in the whole meal everyone would be eating. He knows that some of the boys in the house can’t stand spicy food, so he could have a bigger serving than usual. His most prized possession is a rainbow knife, which he accidentally used on Eric once when he’d been trying to sneak through the window without waking anyone because he locked himself out.

Eric: His habit of shooting out in the forest without a proper gun license is why the police show up at the house, busting down the door at 2:30am. The worst person to wake up in the morning is Eric. Even when he’s nice in the morning, he’s still a dick. Monday mornings are the worse time for him to be awake because he’d stayed up all night playing DOOM. He would be most guilty for drinking orange juice straight out of the jug and not getting a glass. And yes, he’d backwash. In his room he would have a huge Nazi flag that took up an entire wall.

Dylan: While Dylan seems like he’d be the most innocent and neutral in the house, that’s not the case. After slipping on TJ’s dirty boxers, falling downstairs, his long legs flailing behind him, only to land on his huge nose, he’d HATE TJ. He’d hide his rage, but once everyone was asleep, he’d get a washable marker out of the kitchen, and a permanent marker as well. He’d draw a mustache on everyone in the house including himself using the washable marker, and fuck TJ’s face up as much as possible using the non washable marker. And yes, he’d write SUB-BOTTOM in all capital letters on TJ’s forehead.

dezeen.com
David Adjaye named world's most influential architect by Time magazine
"Architectural visionary" David Adjaye has been named among Time magazine's 100 most influential people of 2017 – and is the only architect to make the list

“Architectural visionary” David Adjaye has been named among Time magazine’s 100 most influential people of 2017 – and is the only architect to make the list.

While last year BIG founder Bjarke Ingels was the sole architect on the prestigious Time 100, this year only British architect Adjaye was recognised.

The accolade follows a momentous year for the Adjaye Associates founder, who recently turned 50. He completed the career-defining Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington DC, won the London Design Medal and received a knighthood.

In a citation written by Thelma Golden, director and chief curator of the Adjaye-designed Studio Museum in Harlem, the architect is described as “one of the great architectural visionaries of our time”.

“His work – deeply rooted in both the present moment and the complex context of history – has envisioned new ways for culture to be represented and reflected in the built environment,” said Golden.

“Nowhere is this more evident than in his recent triumph on the National Mall,” she continued.

“Every architect has to contend with gravity – but when David designed the National Museum of African American History and Culture, the challenges of that elemental force went far beyond the ordinary.”

Time 100 is an annual ranking of the people the US magazine judges to be the most influential in America. Other creatives on this year’s list include fashion designer Raf Simons, filmmaker Cindy Sherman and writer Margaret Atwood.

Adjaye said he was “truly humbled” to be among them.

“Having the opportunity to design the National Museum of African American History and Culture has been one of the greatest honours of my career,” he said.

“To be included on this list is a testament to the power of this institution and its wide-reaching resonance.”

Adjaye was born in Tanzania, but is now based in London.

He made his name on projects including the Dirty House and the Stephen Lawrence Centre, both in London, but is increasingly working abroad, with projects in North America and Africa, as well as Continental Europe.

Upcoming projects include a cancer treatment centre in Rwanda and a major new art museum in Latvia.

He ranked at number 41 on the inaugural Dezeen Hot List – our own countdown of important names in architecture and design, generated by audience statistics.

HI, BILLY MAYS HERE WITH KABOOM. DO YOU HAVE LOTS OF DIRTY SHIT IN YOUR HOUSE THAT NEEDS TO BE ALL CLEANED UP? THEN BUY SOME OF THIS GODDAMN KABOOM. THIS SHIT COULD CLEAN THE WARTS OFF YOUR SISTERS VAGINA. YOU CAN PUT SOME KABOOM ON YOUR DICK. AND IT'LL GROW 3 INCHES. FUCK. IN A FEW MINUTES, THERE WILL BE A GODDAMN NUMBER ON YOUR SCREEN. CALL THAT SHIT AND BUY 3 JUGS OF THIS FUCKING KABOOM AND WE'LL THROW IN A SAMURAI SHARK AND SOME GODDAMN ZORBEEZ. WHAT ARE ZORBEEZ? YOU'D BEST BE JOKING. THOSE FUCKING TOWELS CAN SOAK UP LIKE A GALLON A PIECE. YOU'LL PROBABLY NEED THEM AFTER YOU SHARPEN YOUR FUCKING SCISSORS WITH THE SAMURAI SHARK. BECAUSE YOU'LL SIMULTANEOUSLY SHIT, PISS, AND EJACULATE IN YOUR PANTS. HOW DO YOU PISS AND EJACULATE IN YOUR PANTS AT THE SAME TIME? FUCK YOU THAT'S HOW. CALL 1-800-781-7529. TELL 'EM BILLY SENT YOU YOU GODDAMN CUNTFLAPS. FUCK.
Is That Okay?

A/N: I haven’t written anything but Cas/Misha x reader lately, take it easy on me please haha!

Request: Can you write a Jared fic where she has a bad anxiety attack and he helps her through it and tells her it’s gonna be okay ? If not could you do Sam ? Thanks

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Reader experiences an anxiety/panic attack, light swearing

Word Count: 1.3k

Originally posted by out-in-the-open


“Dean! Behind you!” You shouted from halfway up the stairs, down to Dean. He spun around and shot the ghostly woman with his salt rifle. When she vanished. You sighed in relief.

“It’d be nice if Sam would hurry the hell up.” Dean grumbled as you both kept your guard up. You and dean were covering a house while Sam burned the bones of this woman; and you hated it.

You hated anytime you were separated on a hunt. Even if it was just as simple as burning some bones. You especially hated when you were separated from Sam on a hunt. With you being in love with him, it made hunting that much harder.

You sat down on the old creaky stairs for a moment. Tonight wasn’t a good night for you, and you shouldn’t have went on this hunt. You were coming up on the anniversary of your family’s death, and you weren’t fully in your head. Dean had the downstairs covered, so you thought you could catch a breather.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Could you possibly write a Anxiety/Logic platonic fic (maybe w/ prinxiety?) with Anxiety and Logic basking in their new found friendship and annoying the hell out of the other two ? Pleaseeee? :)

IM SORRY ANON, THEY ARENT ANNOYING THE SHIT OUT OF THE OTHERS

I JUST FIND THEM TOO CUTE TO ANNOY ANYONE

SORRY ;______;

——–

“Logic, you can’t go around saying ‘savage’ or 'extra’ or any other contemporary slang just because you learned them. You need to know when to use it” Anxiety said, one afternoon, a few days after their video. The two personas were laying on Logic’s bed, chilling, staring at the starry sky above them. Logic frowned.

“Wait. I also have to learn when to use each term? I can’t just randomly use them?”

“You have to use it randomly, but the situation has to call on it” Anxiety explained, turning to face his friend. “Besides, there are other ones that you still have to learn. Like 'pure’ or 'can’t’ or 'I wanna die’ and so on”

“That last one does seems a little… Edgy” Logic said, smiling and winking to Anxiety after it, making the dark persona stop and fall into a laughter fit.

“You’re the worst” Anxiety said, rubbing his eyes and sighing with a calmer smile now. “Well… It is very edgy. But you have to learn them so you know what people really mean”

“And what do they mean when they say 'I wanna die’?” He asked, innocently, and Anxiety stopped before shaking his head.

“Forget it. There are some way cooler to use. I’ll also teach you a few ways of making fun of our dearest friends” Anxiety said, smirking, and Logic frowned. “Follow me”

And he did, the two walking out of the teacher’s room.

—–

“Analogical pranks!” Logic yelled next to Anxiety, hidden behind the stairs, before he released the catapult they had built, a huge pie flying through the air to land straight on Prince’s face. Anxiety giggled and high fived Logic, smiling at his boyfriend.

“Does it tastes delicious?” He asked, just as Prince slowly wiped his eyes, the pie falling on the ground and making the floor dirty. It took less than five minutes for Morality to arrive, his eyes widening.

“What did you do to the floor I had just cleaned?!” He asked, and Logic and Anxiety smirked, looking at the other two.

“Your taste on the wood was a bit bad. We decided to flavour it up” Anxiety said, and both Prince and Morality stared at them as they laughed, completely confused and scared.

“What… Is happening?” Morality asked, and Prince shook his head, licking his lips and then looking at the father.

“I don’t know, but this pie is homemade” he said, and both widened their eyes, surprised and a bit scared.

“They made pie and made my house dirty with said pie?” Morality repeated the events, and Prince nodded slowly, both watching as Anxiety and Logic grabbed their catapult and rushed away, making new plans and heading for the gardens. “And now they are… Going outside?”

“Morality, I think Thomas broke them” Prince said, honestly concerned, and Morality nodded, a smile creeping up on his face.

“We should convince them of a water ballon fight”

A moment of silence.

“Yes”

They could worry about the pie later.

top gorillaz songs to dance to
  • Feel Good Inc.
  • DARE
  • Rock the House
  • Dirty Harry
  • DoYaThing
  • Superfast Jellyfish
  • Doncamatic
  • 5/4
  • Some Kind of Nature
  • Re-Hash
  • Pirate Jet
  • 19-2000
  • People
  • Hongkongaton
  • Bill Murray
  • Spitting Out The Demons
  • The Swagga (suggested by @softpastelnoodle)
Mirror Mirror on the Wall

**inspired by a post I saw where Regina uses her magic mirror to check in on the Queen and Robin Locksley**

It’s been over a year since she has checked in on the Queen, a small little peek into the other woman’s life just to make sure that everything is okay, that they are okay. And so far, everything seems good, really good. She’s had a couple chuckles over watching this other version of herself lose the royal thickness about her and become a woman of the forest. Long gone are the jewelled cloaks and high heels, all which have been traded in for more sensible clothing, furs, trousers and a bow on her back. It reminds her of the time she herself spent as a bandit, for that moment in time where she had been on the run from an Evil Queen and an outlaw had come to her rescue. It’s odd, to watch it play out in real life.

But this other Regina seems happy now that she’s stopped grumbling about living in the forest. It suits her. Suits them. And while they may live in a forest, Regina can’t help but smile at the fact that apparently you may be able to take a Queen out of her royal castle, but you can’t quite take all of royalty out of the Queen. They live comfortably, in a large-ish cottage on a hill surrounded by trees overlooking a lake. Thanks to her magic, they have everything they need, even indoor plumbing, a note Regina did laugh at. But Robin is still Robin. He still hunts and lives off the land, and makes campfires beneath the stars.

She’d watched them one night, tucked on a couch together underneath a blanket, a calm flickering of orange glow from the hearth beating about them as Robin combed through her hair till her eyes closed. She hadn’t meant to watch them as long as she had, feeling like a peeping tom and all, but Robin had waited till his Regina was nearly asleep, breathing heavier than a few minutes prior when he rustled gently in his pocket, and pulled out a small little box. She’d watched as his eyes trailed back down to the near asleep woman on his chest, a small smile creeping into his dimples as he kissed her temple and begun to play with her left hand.

Her heart had thundered as she sat silently in her room, absorbed in them and what was about to happen. He’d kissed her cheek, placed a few to her temple, and across her brow until she grinned in her sleep, curling further into his arms, as he pulled her gently awake. The Queen’s eyes had drifted blissfully open, contentment swirling about in them, at least until she saw the box Robin had pressed into her palm.

Regina’s breath had hitched at the same time the Queen’s had, the mirror in her hands creeping closer as she waited to see what the other woman would say, knowing the answer in her heart already. His voice was low, curious and full of love as he asked her the question, the Queen’s eyes flickering up from the diamond to his gaze, stunned, before she broke out into a smile, and nodded, pulling him down to meet her lips that ceased to stop grinning. She’d put the mirror down after that, wiped away a few tears she wasn’t sure were from longing or happiness. That had been the last time she’d seen them, snuggled together in their home, newly engaged.

She doesn’t do it often anymore, gaze into her magic mirror and see how they are, because it feels a bit strange sometimes, to see a life she could have lived going on in front of her eyes. It brings about an ache in her heart, wondering if she and her Robin would have lived this way, happily together. Maybe that’s why her checking in on them have been fewer and farther in between over the past two years. She is content that they are happy, that she was able to be a part of making that happen.

But something just felt a little different today, Henry had left for a school trip for a week and she was feeling a bit lonely in her mansion. For a few hours she’d managed to occupy her mind with cooking dinner (for one). Had made apple turnovers she’d not yet touched and had a long bath, even done her nails. And it’s only eight o’clock. Too early to fall asleep, nothing to capture her attention on TV, her book long finished.

Humming to herself, she thumbs the mirror on her bedside table, gnawing at the fact she wants to see them, that maybe, for a few minutes she’ll allow herself to pretend it’s her and Robin instead. Just a few minutes, ten tops. Sinking beneath the covers, she sighs, turning the glass towards her face and whispers out, “Mirror Mirror on the Wall, show me what I want to see most of all.” It glows a deep purple, bright and swirling in her palm till the light settles and the image fades into view.

It’s day time there, warm sun pooling into an empty living room, though seems no one is home. The thought makes Regina pout, unamused, what is she supposed to do now? Huffing out a breath, she sets the mirror aside, as stares out the window silently. The quiet is nice, she supposes. Not what she wanted, but what can she do about it? Settling into her pillow her eyes flutter shut, and she pictures Robin beside her, or maybe downstairs, frowning adorably at the appliances he’d yet to figure out.

She’d lost a toaster and a coffee pot whilst he was here and his curiosity had gotten the better of him. The sheepish look he’d given her as she’d walked into the kitchen to put out the fire alarm blaring away due to another smoke bomb from a destroyed instrument far too precious to have her irritation even flare a bit. He’d apologized, run his hand through his hair and sighed at the small carnage he’d created. But she hadn’t care, would just shrug and kiss him happily, letting her wrist flick and restore the appliance back to it’s working state. She liked those moments. Domestic ones between the two of them, it felt like normalcy had finally begun to settle into her life.

A muffled voice cues her attention back to the mirror beside her as she fumbles and flips it back over, light streaming into the cottage as a door swings open and she sees the other Regina walk into the living room, carting a basket on her hip and a smile on her lips. “I’ll be right there!” She calls back out over her shoulder, heaving the load from her arms onto the table. Robin must be outside.

She looks different. Her hair tied into a loose braid that swings over her cotton clothed back, face void of all makeup and dirt under her nails. It’s not the first time Regina has been amused at the sight of the once regal royal all dirtied up playing house. It’s nice. She dusts off her pants, makes her way quickly to the kitchen on the left just out of Regina’s view. In the distance she swears she can hear more than just one voice. Robin’s certainly, but there is someone else there with him, someone younger. Her heart flutters as a hushed laughter echoes around her. It sounds just like–

“Roland! Come back here.”

She freezes under her blankets, jaw dropping and eyes watering as she sees the mop of brown curly hair rush into the cottage. He looks exactly the same, a bit bigger no doubt, with the time that has passed, but his face hasn’t changed from the picture in her memory. Big button brown eyes, chubby dimpled cheeks, two new missing front teeth as he shouts cheerfully into the kitchen from the sofa he’s landed himself on. His little chest puffs in and out, and Regina can’t help the tears that fall, nor the way her fingers trace his face. She misses him so goddamn much. Kicks herself everyday for not being able to figure out how to get to him somehow.

“Hello, my little archer.” The Queen smiles as she steps back into the room, flopping herself down beside him, lips playfully coating his cheeks in affection as he squeals in delight beneath her.

Regina’s heart clenching at the sight of him moving to settle into the Queen’s lap, grinning up at her as his hands part, revealing a perfectly sliced apple, well almost perfectly sliced, one half is surely larger than the other. “I did it!”

“I see that! You’re getting better than Robin!”

“Yup!” Roland munches triumphantly on his half he hadn’t relinquished into the Queen’s hands.

“Oh you think so, eh?” Robin comes into view, his hair tousled on his forehead, a grin beaming as he settles down beside them with a smirk. “Should I tell Little John you’re about to take over as the leader of the Merry Men then, yeah?”

“Let him down easy, he’s a sensitive guy.” The Queen winks as she nuzzles down into Roland’s hair. “Speaking of which, he’ll be by rather soon to come collect you.”

“Awww, Gina, do I have to go?”

The pout he sends her is beautiful, as is the smile she sends back. Regina still sits enraptured on her bed, can’t help but feel a flutter in her stomach. They found each other. All of them. How she doesn’t know, but what does it matter anyway? It’s a perfect picture glowing out from her mirror. “You need to get some sleep or else you will fall asleep on the way tomorrow, and be a little grumpy toad.”

“No I won’t!”

Robin laughs, laces his fingers behind Roland’s back with the Queen’s, “Perhaps we can convince him to let you stay the night.”

“Yes!”

“We all know he is an easy turn if you show him just how good your archery has gotten, maybe he’ll seen reason in letting you stay and practice some more.”

Roland bounds between them, whooping and hollering as he grabs his small bow and arrow and races back outside, his cheering still heard from the quiet that surrounds the pair still on the couch. Robin turns his eyes from the doorway back to his wife who leans her head on the soft brown cushions, humming happily when he moves closer to her, draping her legs across his thighs, and tugging her tighter into him with a smiling kiss to her lips. The seemingly innocent kiss suddenly turns into something far more heated, a moan in the back of the Queen’s throat has Regina flushing hot, best be time to go.

Her hand begins to wave across the mirror, but her eyes glue to the placing of Robin’s hand on the Queen’s stomach, and she lets her magic fizzle out. They smile, a bashful blissful thing, eyes meeting one another’s before Robin shimmies down between the Queen’s thighs, his hands cupping a small swell Regina hadn’t noticed before.

“Hello, my boy. How are we this afternoon?”

The Queen cards through his hair, tilts her chin down and smiles as he begins talking to her bump, Regina hanging onto every muffled word and mischievous, cheerful grin he sends back up at his lover before focusing back down to the task of talking to their unborn child. “Now, you stay safe and warm in there and try to ease up on your mother for a while okay?” His kisses the swell and moves back up to buss the former Queen’s lips. “We should start thinking of names.”

“Already?”

“Why not?”

“Do you have anything in mind?”

Robin bites down on his lip, brow creasing as he scoots back down to the barely there bump. “Well, my father’s name was Richard.”

“Baby Boy Richard?” She cringes hard.

They both lock eyes before sharing a laugh, Robin shaking his head, “A definite no.”

“What about Rigel?”

“Rigel Locksley?”

The Queen shrugs, “I kind of like it.”

“As do I. And for a middle name?”

Regina soaks in the moment. Little Rigel. She wonders if he will look like Robin, or maybe a smaller version of Roland, her complexion to Marian is close enough anyway. And when the Queen whispers out a name, Regina’s heart stills, eyes flush with new tears.

“Henry?”

“I know that you didn’t really know him, either of them, my father or my son, but I’d like to…”

Her words are cut off by another melting of Robin’s lips to her own. “Say no more, Rigel Henry Locksley it is.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course, my love. It’s perfect.”

They settle in together, lacing their hands over their baby boy safe in Regina’s belly.  

“You’re sure you want to go tomorrow? We can wait a few days for you to feel better you know.”

“I’m okay.”

“You sure? You’re only a few weeks along, we don’t even have to go.”

She kisses him again, slow and steady before nodding, “I promise I’m fine, it’s not as bad as it was with Rae, that’s for sure.” Her eyebrows arch momentarily, “Plus, we promised Roland we’d take him.”

“He’d understand if you aren’t feeling up to it.” He rubs down her legs and back up her arms, saddling a fraction closer to her on the sofa.

“I know, he’s a good little boy, but I swear, I’m okay.”

“You’d tell me if you weren’t right? We can turn around anytime you want.”

He frowns, though the Queen chuckles, “You worry too much.”

She bumps his nose with her own as he sighs through a laugh, “I know, but it’s only cause I love you’re cooking and can’t imagine having to go back to eating boiled rabbit.” He jests at her, dimples on full display, as she scoffs, slaps his chest half heartedly.

“That’s why you married me? For my cooking skills?”

“Well that,” he leans in to catch her lips once more, “and maybe a few other things.”

Clearly something, no matter the realm or version never changed.

She huffs, pecks his lips a few times more, “Roland’s waiting. I’ll be right there.”

Robin smiles through his lingering concern, nuzzling into her neck for a few well placed kisses before extracting himself from her body, letting his hand circle across her stomach a few more times. “Speaking of little ones, shouldn’t she be up by now?”

“Probably, if we want to actually get some sleep tonight.” The Queen hums, running her own hands along the small swell as Robin stands, kissing her forehead one last time before whispering gently, “I’ll see you outside, my love.”

Regina watches as Robin leaves the Queen still smiling on the couch, soothing her hand over her stomach. This she certainly wasn’t expecting to see… an expecting version of herself. Where she’d figured envy would creep in, there is nothing. Well not nothing, there is a bubble of calmness that surrounds her as she smiles at the sight.

“Mama?” A little voice calls from up the stairs.

“Coming baby!” The Queen stands, and skips up the steps quickly and Regina can’t help but wait to see what their daughter looks like, what her and Robin’s daughter may have looked like. The room grows quiet as she sits up taller against the headboard, brushing a lock behind her ear, she needs a haircut, desperately so. But Robin liked it long, and she can’t really find it in her to shear it again. Oh well, unruly waves be damned, it will stay this length at least for a little while longer.

The sound of footsteps and happy bubbling laughter brings her eyes back to the mirror, the brown boots of the Queen coming into view first, her thighs and then a small dangling pair of matching boots at her waist. It’s all long brown curls hiding a little face burrowed into her mother’s neck. She can’t be more than twelve months, a baby still. A beautiful giggle muffled by the Queen’s own humming chuckle as she balances her daughter on her hip, whispering something Regina can’t quite catch.

“Shall we go see your daddy?” She turns and makes her way to the door, bouncing the little girl on her hip, and as they begin to walk away from the wall mirror Regina watches them from. Her eyes lock onto a pair of sky blue sparkling ones, chubby pink cheeks, dimples and a perfect rosy pout. For a second the little girl almost seems to sense her, and Regina can’t help but wave her fingers slowly as mother and daughter walk into the distance, and just before she loses sight of them, five little fingers wave back.

She laughs, brushes the tears off of her cheeks and sets the mirror down, her heart blooming and bursting at its seams. Her eyes close as she nestles back into bed, her mind swirling with the image of the perfect little family she had a part in bringing together, and something settles in her, a sense of calm and understanding that this will be the last time she uses the mirror, they have found a happily ever after, after all.

What I would like to see in Chapter 17 :)

Ji Eun:.. S-Sangwoo… who’s that?
Sangwoo: My friend, obviously ^-^
Friend 1: *side eyes Bum* Alright….
Girl: Well since we are all here, Let’s play a drinking game!
Friend 2: Like what?
Girl: Never have I ever!
Friend 1: How do you play that?
Girl: Simple! We go around and say “never have I ever…” and something you actually haven’t done but if we /have/, we take a shot. For example, “Never have I ever… Skipped school.” So if you /did/ skip school, you take a shot. Easy!
Friend 2: Alright, let’s play. I’ll go first…
*A few rounds later*
Girl: Me next! Okay, never have I ever had my first kiss!
*Everyone except Jin Eun takes a shot*
*Jin Eun gets embarrassed*
Sangwoo, being the asshole that he is: Awww how cute~ Don’t worry Jin Eun, I got one just for you~~~
Jin Eun: *blushes* :D
Sangwoo: Never have I ever messed up on a performance live ^-^
Jin Eun: :c *sadly takes a shot*
Friend: Okay, okay I got one! *Looks straight at Bum* Never have I ever broken a bone
Bum: *Looks Sangwoo dead in the eyes as he takes two shots*
Girl: Why did you take two?
Bum: *tipsy (bc let’s be real, Bum is probably a light weight)* One for each of my broken leg *side eyes Sangwoo*
Friend 1: Alright, it’s your turn
Bum: *pretends to think* Hmmmm…. Never have I ever….. murder anyone, kidnap, torture anyone in emotional or physically abuse, manipulate them into sucking you off, humiliate, degrade them, forcing them into female clothes and cleaning your fucking dirty ass house and have them fear for their life constantly. :)
Everyone else: …..
Bum: *grabs an unopened bottle of Soju and slams it infront of Sangwoo* :) Drink your shot, honey :)

✖ —— the outsiders sentence starters.

’ we gotta win that fight tonight. ’
’ where the hell have you been? do you know what time it is? ’
’ it’s two in the morning, kiddo! ’
’ where have you been? ’
’ i fell asleep in the lot. didn’t mean to. ’
‘ i can’t even call the cops because you two would be put in a home so fast. ’
’ look, i said i didn’t mean to. ’
’  "i didn’t mean to", “i forgot”. that’s all i ever hear from you! ’
’ don’t you yell at him/her! ’
’ you can’t win. you know that, don’t you? ’
’ you’ll still be where you were before, at the bottom. ’
’ shoot, this house ain’t dirty. you ought to see my house. ’
’ if you had the sense of a billy goat, you’d clean your house up. ’
’ shoot, kid, if i did that, my mom would die of shock. ’
’ where did you learn that? that’s what i meant. ’
’ stay gold, _______, stay gold. ’
’ robert frost wrote it. ’
’ i always remembered it because i never quite knew what it meant. ’
’ look at the blonde headed monkey! ’
’ why? too scared? ’
’ hate to tell you this, buddy, but you have to wear clothes to work. ’
’ you’re not going anywhere. ’
’ no way! they ain’t putting me in no home. ’
’ let’s take it outside! ’
’ you should have gone out for football instead of track. ’
’ where the hell do you think you’re going? ’
’ i don’t know, i can’t take sides. ’
’ i don’t know, man. it’s just like sometimes i have to get out. ’
’ it’s like i’m the middle man in a tug-of-war or something between you guys. ’
’ i’m happy working at a gas station. ’
’ i’m dumb. it’s alright, i don’t mind. ’
’ you’d never be happy doing something like that. ’
’ you gotta stop yelling at him/her for every little thing he/she does, man. ’
’ we’re all we got left now. ’
’ if we don’t have each other, then we ain’t got nothing. ’
’ sure… sure little buddy, we ain’t goin’ to fight anymore. ’
’ one bawl-baby in this family’s enough. ’
’ let’s go home, i’m cold. ’
’ what’d you say? ’
’ what’d you say, you little shit? what’d you say to me? ’
’ come on, you heard me. leave her/him alone. ’
’ here, i thought this might cool you off. ’
’ when you learn to talk and act decent, then maybe i’ll cool off too. ’
’ firey, huh? just the way i like them! ’
’ i gotta cut smoking or i’ll never make track next year. ’
’ where you gonna get the dough, li'l man? ’
’ yeah, somebody’s sick… ’
’ what are you doin’ walkin’ by your lonesome on the street? ’
’ it’s none of your business, smarty. ’
’ what do you mean, none of my business? ’
’ smartass. he/she is a smartass kid. ’
’ i didn’t know you had this problem with, with yelling in my face. ’
’ what? look, now don’t get wise. ’
’ i don’t like little kids, just don’t like ‘em. ’
’ go a head, i’ll keep an eye on him/her. ’
’ why didn’t you bring a coat, stupid? ’
’ i thought new york was the only place to end up in a murder rap. ’
’ hey baby, you wanna see what’s hangin’? ’
’ you don’t know what a few months in jail can do to you, man. ’
’ you get mean in jail, i just don’t wanna see that happen to you. ’
’ it’s like the mist is what’s pretty, ya know? all gold and silver. ’
’ too bad it can’t stay like that all the time. ’
’ you’re never gonna get me alive! ’
’ don’t you know a rumble ain’t a rumble without me? ’
’ you ever pull a stunt like that again, i’ll kill you. ’
’ if the fuzz show, you beat it out of there. ’
’ ain’t nobody gonna call the fuzz in this neighborhood! they know better! ’
’ you two beat it out of there, ya hear me? ’
’ go ahead, man. i won’t look at you. ’
’ i don’t have any money. ’
’ go away! get out of here! ’
’ that was a close call. ’
’ with your brains and grades, you could get a scholarship. ’
’ we could put you through college, ain’t that right? ’
’ you just don’t stop living because you lose somebody. ’
’ anytime you don’t like the way i’m running things around here, you can just get out. ’
’ i used to talk about killing myself all the time, man. ’
’ hell, i wouldn’t care so much if there hadn’t been so many things i haven’t done yet. ’
’ so many damn things i ain’t seen or done. ’
’ i don’t know, he/she just died. ’
’ guess we’re different, huh? ’
’ beer for breakfast there, ______? ’
’ you smoke more than a pack today and i’ll skin you. ’
’ you carry more than one bundle of roofing at a time. ’
’ you’re young. you shouldn’t be smoking. it’s a hard habit to break. ’
’ i thought we lost you like we did mom and dad. ’
’ what do you think, man? you think it makes me look tough? ’
’ i think it makes you look different. ’
’ well, you got a hole in your mouth. ’
’ i can’t wait till you’re outta here. ’
’ get out, just get out! you’re making me sick in my stomach. ’
’ it was your bright idea, smarty. ’
’ you get tough like me and you don’t get hurt. ’
’ you look out for yourself and nothing can touch you, man. ’
’ by the looks of it i thought you were both four… ’
’ they pushed me in the fountain and they tried to drown me. ’
’ why don’t you just focus on girls and cars? works of me. ’
’ nothin’ legal, man. let’s get outta here. ’
’ you go to hell. go straight to hell. ’
’ did they pull a blade on you? ’
’ hey, they ain’t gonna hurt you no more. ’
’ they used to buddy around together, play football. ’
’ what, are you thinking about me becoming your personal bodyguard? ’
’ i don’t think it’s too hot of an idea. ’
’ great! my first trip to the zoo! ’
’ i swear, we used to get along just fine until mom and dad died. ’
’ i think i like it better when the old man’s hittin’ me. at least he knows I’m there. ’
’ i’m sorry i got you away from this party and all but i just don’t know what to do, man. ’
’ nah. i was just uh… i was just trying to get some sleep. ’
’ wait a minute. let me think about this mess. get in. ’
’ you guys are three of the bravest kids i’ve seen in a long time. ’
’ what are you guys? professional heroes or somethin’? ’
’ a little? you call reeling and passing out in the streets a little? ’
’ i told you, i’m never going out with you when you’re drinking again. ’
’ look, that doesn’t mean you can go walkin’ the streets with these bums. ’
’ we got four more of us in the backseat. ’
’ if…  if you’re lookin’ for a fight… ’
’ c'mon, put the knife down! c'mon! ’
’ stop! stop it! i hate fights, alright? i hate them! ’
’ we’ll go home with you, just give me a minute. ’
’ are you a real redhead? are you real?  ’
’ how can i find out if this is your real red hair? ’
’ if this is the same red hair you have on your, uh, your, your, these eyebrows. ’
’ hey! check out their pants! ’
’ so, you guys waitin’ for a floodin’? ’
’ man that was one tough car. mustangs, they’re tough. ’
’ i asked the nurse to give you this book so you could finish it. ’
’ listen, i don’t mind dying now. ’
’ it was worth it. it was worth saving those kids. ’
’ keep it that way, it’s a good way to be. ’
’ you still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want. ’
’ hey, look, i got me a new hat! ’
’ some cute redhead, huh? ’
’ get your feet off my chair and shut your trap. ’
’ you’d better leave us alone, or i’ll call the cops. ’
’ oh, my, my! you’ve got me scared to death. ’
’ can you just leave us alone? be nice and leave us alone? ’
’ can i interest you in a coca-cola, or a… ’
’ alright, i’ll go. i know when i’m not wanted. ’
’ no jazz before the rumble; you know the rules. ’