domestic surrealism

domestic superheroes is the best. give me iron man and the hulk in their pjs talking about scientific theories over coffee. give me hawkeye stealing toast off of spiderman’s plate. give me wolverine looking grumpy with bed-head pouring himself a bowl of cornflakes. deadly assassins wearing sweats and brushing their teeth. groups of superheros group-texting funny cat pictures to their teammates. the best

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The Love Lost Argument by John Seven
Via Flickr:
Snofe Lakes.

ok so this is the james/thomas/flint fic i’ve been working on and i can’t start posting chapters until it’s all finished, which is waaaay off. i’m having the time of my life working on this piece of surreal psychodrama, so i wanted to share at least a little bit.

shoutout to @brightbluedot without whom this thing would not be coming along nearly as well and who’s the best at asking all the best & hardest questions


“Edward,” was all Flint said.

“I had to come up with something quickly,” Thomas defended himself. “If you two looked like twins and also had the same first and last name, it would look odd. If it’s James’ middle-name it’s not even entirely untrue. Come to that, it’s a miracle no one has commented on James’ hair yet, it’s like everyone has suddenly lost their eyesight. I don’t know whether to be more grateful or disquieted.”

The onion went into the pot and was replaced on the cutting board by a cabbage. “So I’m a Hamilton now.”

“For all practical purposes, yes.”

Flint chopped away, outwardly calm, but Thomas recognised that faintest of twitches at his jaw.

“I assume,” Flint said, “that his going by Hamilton, and you by his name, is also entirely practical? Since in this bustling hub of great-scale commerce just about anyone might recognise a Navy lieutenant that disappeared ten years ago, or a lord presumed dead after being out of the public eye for years. And picking entirely new names simply wouldn’t be practical.”

“If you have a point,” James said, jamming the needle through the fabric with more force than necessary, “I suggest you make it.”

“I was simply struck by the marital bliss this little exchange of names implies. And me the second Mr Hamilton now. What would the neighbours say if they knew the first isn’t yet dead or divorced?”

James made as if to rise from his chair and was only dissuaded by Thomas casting him a look.

“It seems I just keep collecting them,” Thomas said dryly. “Who knows—Arthur Parsons is a widower, maybe I can interest him in becoming the third Mr Hamilton.”

And Flint barked a raucous laugh that showed off rows of strong teeth and deepened the crows’ feet around his eyes, and made Thomas feel as if he had missed a step down the stairs. It had been rare for James to laugh so gracelessly and loudly even in London, and he hadn’t done it at all since they had returned from their voyage.

It had only been two days, but already a routine seemed to form. Flint cooked, seeming to enjoy the handling of the knives and the heat of the flames and timing things just so. James took care of small things about the house, fixing a wobbly shelf, going through their food stores to make sure nothing had spoilt in their lengthy absence, mending what needed it. Thomas went through his books to pick something to lend young Jim.

During dinner James’ questioning foot kept bumping into Thomas’, and it sent a thrill straight to his core every time. Thomas hadn’t forgotten about what he had said last night, his plans to inspect all the novelty and familiarity of this new, old body, and they’d been stealing glances at each other like shy newlyweds all day.

anonymous asked:

Omg so I really need a Tyler Seguin blurb based off the song "18" by Anarbor

ok first of all fuck yeah anarbor second of all i made her not 18 because some people feel uncomfortable with that kind of age difference so lets not be ~~~~controversial god knows hockey tumblr dont need that shit rn

You could easily remember the first words Tyler ever said to you. And what you said back. That small exchange would come to ruin you both. “God damn that’s a nice car,” he said, in the parking garage in downtown Dallas. If he wasn’t so hot you’d have thought it was creepy. “Thanks. It’s my daddy’s.” He caught a gleam in his eye that never left. It turned out you were going to the same bar, and four drinks in you were sure you were going home with him. His messy hair and tattoos gave you the exact vibe you wanted. Because really this wasn’t about you. Or him. It was about the look on your parent’s faces when you brought him home. 

“Wanna come drive my car?” you asked, sipping on the fifth vodka cranberry he bought for you. A turn up of his eyebrows and he had his hand on your back. “It is a damn nice car,” he almost whispered. You smirked. “I’ve got tons of other nice things I could show you,” you told him. It wasn’t more than twenty minutes and he had pulled your fancy car up into his driveway and you were peeling your dress off in his doorway while he forced his dogs into the other room. 

It was nearing 4am when you thought it would be best to go home. “Hey, stay,” Tyler said, lightly gripping onto your waist when you tried to move. It sounded so different than how he spoke all night. Sincere and soft. You glared at him. “I don’t…do that,” you explained. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes from having dozed off before. He had mentioned he was a few years older than you. His hard partying days drawing closer to an end while yours were still on the rise. Maybe he was wiser but you wouldn’t admit that. 

“I’m not asking you to marry me. Look, I know what this is and it’s fine,” he started. “I’m not gonna force you but you don’t have to drive home at 4 in the morning. You can stay.” You nodded and decided to crawl back into bed with him. Your heavy eyes won you over. You woke up again to the sun shining through the window. Tyler was gone but there were a neat pile of clothes way too big for you on the end table. You slipped into them, admiring the big t-shirt over putting last night’s dress back on. 

Tyler was cooking in the kitchen, while playing with his dogs and this whole thing felt surreal. Domestic. You hated it. “Do you like bacon?” he asked when you sat at the bar. You nodded. He laughed at the look on your face. “I still mean what I said last night,” he told you. “Cool,” you commented. You wanted to leave. You couldn’t really remember if you had told him, in your half drunk state last night your latest plans about pissing off your dad who threatened to take away the car and your credit cards if you didn’t settle down. But you figured you did at what he said next. 

“I can totally play the part, just don’t let your parents find out about my cute dogs and that I practically had to force you to cuddle with me last night,” he said. You cracked a smile. “I can awful. We’ll go get a tattoo right now,” he said and you really couldn’t tell if he was joking. Tyler slipped a plate in front of you while turning the stove off and making one for himself. “What do you get out of it?” you asked. 

“Easy. I get to drive that awesome car. The sex’s pretty good too,” he said, and sat down next to you. You could already feel you were in deep shit. 

With This Ring Ch9: Sharing

Also on AO3 and FF.NET

Two sets of keys on the little table by the door. Her blood red leather jacket hung quietly next to his grey parka. A pair of toothbrushes mingling in a glass on the bathroom shelf.

All so domestic, so normal, so surreal. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around her current situation was she finished unpacking her suitcase.

Change is hard she’d been told as a kid. But for Emma, it really hadn’t been. Moving from place to place, new schools, new ‘moms’ - it had been her kind of normal. In fact, staying in one place for more than a semester or two had made her restless. Different was good. It was safe. Staying too long in one place and getting attached… well, it wasn’t good.

But this change, however temporary, made her feel queasy and nervous: her head had ached as she had packed up the first of her things less than an hour after a crisis meeting with Killian. The decision had been swift. Both had known there was always a possibility they would be investigated. Though most visa adjustments like theirs were handled via prearranged interview and form filling, some were sent for further investigation. They’d just kinda glossed over the possibility of that happening, instead just thinking the odds would be in their favour and they could get away with pretty much separate lives and walk away with exactly what they wanted from the arrangement.

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