They’ve been there for millions of years, through storms and floods and wars and… time. Nobody really understands where the music comes from. It’s probably something to do with the precise positions, the distance between both towers.
Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted
to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice
is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So
far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”
“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault
you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten
halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an
allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”
“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He
slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes.
A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.
I was glad to have the chance to talk with you again at the AHA
conference. Your idea that the Musee D’Orsay Tomlinson painting is in
fact not a self-portrait is an intriguing one, and I may have discovered
something that will have a bearing on that theory.
Some background: as you may remember, I’ve been researching for a book
I’m writing about Harry Styles. I’ve been in communication with Styles’
last living descendant, who is in possession of a trunk that her family
believed to have belonged to Styles himself. It held some personal items
she presumes to be his, including two unmounted paintings and a small
collection of letters.
Upon spending the last few days in Provins studying these items, I
believe there to be a connection between Tomlinson and Styles, and I
would very much like your opinion.
Are you up for a trip to France?
Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two
nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.
When Harry’s husband dies, he asks one thing of him; to find love and
happiness again without him. It’s a request that Harry is happy to
disregard, until he meets the one person who is impossible to ignore.
Harry thumbs through his sketchpad before he stops on a blank page.
He looks Louis over for a moment, seemingly studying him. It’s a odd
feeling, even if it is what Louis signed up for, just sitting in a crowd
in broad daylight while a stranger looks him up and down.
Louis is the subject of Harry’s first year art project, and what starts
as an assignment blossoms into a friendship. It’s unfortunate that only
one of them wishes it could be more.
“Why did you talk like that in Brighton? If you weren’t planning on ever
telling me?” Louis asked. “Is it because you think you’re going to
“It’s war, Lou,” Harry said finally.
The words were a knife slipped between his ribs. Everything hurt and he
was bleeding. He shifted up, his palms cradling Harry’s jaw, his lips
against his boy’s. Not kissing, just resting there, so Louis could feel
him. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”
Harry’s hands smoothed down the sides of Louis’ body. “You know I can’t do that. I’ll never lie to you.”
“Promise me. We’re going to have our cottage. And our dogs. And our
breakfast in the garden where nothing grows because of the wind from the
sea. Promise me.”
“I won’t.” Stubborn as always, his boy. “I’ll promise you, I’ll love you
all my life. I’ll promise you, you’ll never leave my thoughts. I’ll
promise you, you’re my forever and my always. But promising you
something I can’t cheapens the things I can.”
Or the World War II AU where Harry goes off to fight and all Louis wants to do is be the boy who brings him home.
“Babe, I know we have a lot on our plate, so I’m only going
to ask you this one last time.”
Your eyes snap open, hands shielding your face from the sun.
Beside you is your boyfriend, gauging your expression carefully as he smoothed
down the ears of the dog that sat in between his legs. The energetic little
thing (Beowulf, named for his rugged look
and wolf like features) has a yellow bandana tied to his neck, indicating
that he’s one of the many dogs in this park that belongs to the local humane
society. The two of you have to be back any moment with this gorgeous young
husky, whose eyes blink up at you adoringly.
You know what Tom is going to ask. “Babe,” you say, but it
sounds more like you’re trying to persuade yourself. “We’ve got a lot going on.”
“I know, but hear me out,” he says this while holding the
dogs hands up in a placating gesture. You almost melt into his whims right then
and there. “Look at him.”
“Let’s walk him back and then talk about it?” you say this
while sitting up, wrapping your hand tightly around Beowulf’s leash. Tom
groans, but none the less stands, Beowulf yawning and padding around his feet.
For a shelter dog, his manners were near perfect, and his training seemed to be
“How could a dog like you not have an owner?” you asked Beowulf
in an odd voice, one that made Tom stare at you in awe and admiration. He liked
this really loving, soft side of you; one that played with animals in cute
voices and wore your hair up in a sporty ponytail. He couldn’t imagine
volunteering as a date could make him fall even deeper in love with you, but
there you were, crouching beside the most adorable husky in the world, eyes
wide and smile bright.
He wanted to see this image all the time. He wanted to adopt
Beowulf so badly. Partly because he
missed having a dog after moving to the states, but also because it felt so domestic. Married couples had dogs, families had dogs.
The word family rung in his head as the two of you walked
Beowulf back to the shelter. You were listing out reasons why adopting him
would be costly. (“Not just in money, but
in time. What if we aren’t always there for him. Owning a dog is new to me.
Plus, we just live in an apartment, is that going to be enough room for him to
All of your points were (probably)
valid, but when it was Tom’s turn to hold the leash, he couldn’t help but let
his true feelings show. “If we get this dog,” he started, wetting his lips as
if to give him the courage to continue. “It’ll feel like we’re a family.”
You blinked at him, your face emotionless until he saw a
glimmer in your eyes. Perhaps happiness, maybe even tears, but you looked away
quickly, smiling and biting the inside of your cheek.
And then, cheekily, you replied “I hope you don’t mind
shelling out money for food and toys, cause we’re getting the dog.”
Let’s just skip over the fact that this was from four months ago, mkay? …Anyways - first time writing Baze, and Chirrut, and spiritassassin! and my mind literally leapt to this scene. Of course. Because apparently I adore my battle-weary but determined ships.
Baze Malbus rested against the bulkhead, eyes closed, listening as the
pilot – Bodhi – communicated with the Imperial officers. The kid was young, so
young, too young, to have suffered so
much. His fingers still twitched and sometimes, Baze knew, Bodhi’s mind grew
hazy in dim lighting. They still don’t know what Saw had done to him, the kid
wouldn’t – couldn’t? – say. But the phrase that sometimes slipped out from his
wet lips in a quiet, pleading panic – “I’m
the pilot, I’m the pilot…” – were as painful as seeing bloody, broken
shards of glass on the ground. Remnants of something terrible.
And then, of course, there had been Jedha. Had been. Past tense. NiJedha, gone, ripped from its ancient foundations,
incinerated in seconds, people and history and lives blasted out of existence
for… what? For what purpose? He didn’t know.
What had been left of the Holy City had risen like a terrible wave above
Baze suspected the debris would be settling in orbit now.
He wondered how long it would remain a satellite graveyard.
Perhaps in a thousand years, Jedha would have a ring, and no one would
remember where it came from.
Damn the Empire to its bloody, rotten core, Baze spat inwardly, his grip tightening on the
heavy repeater, the metal groaning under his white-knuckled hands. Of all
things, a damn Imperial weapon had survived Jedha. Children had not. Disgust
rose like bile in his throat and Baze sorely wanted to spit, or blast something
out of existence, he wanted to feel the white-hot burning ammo clips, the
smoking heavy repeater hot in his hands, he wanted to watch the Empire collapse
and drown in the blood of all the innocent lives –
Visiting Kiseok on tour was
always one of your favorite things to do. It took you away from your everyday
life for a few moments, it gave you the opportunity to see Kiseok and the other
members of your second family in person and not through a screen, and it gave
you the opportunity to see exactly what life was like on the road and the
things that he experienced on a daily basis. It gave you that insight and
helped you to realize exactly what he was going through when he was away from
home and you really appreciated the chance to experience his work life, even if
it was only for a moment.
Usually, before you visited
him on tour, you’d keep some of the things that were happening in your life a
little quieter. You wouldn’t share them as quickly as you would have otherwise
or you wouldn’t share as many details just so that you had something to tell
him, some news to give, when you met him in whatever country he happened to be
in. After your first tour visit, you’d started doing this and it generally gave
you something to think about other than how much you missed him or how excited
you were to see him.
And if they were all away from
Korea, you tried to bring them little tokens of home. You’d bring candy or
figurines, you’d even brought a packet of noodles once. Anything to help them
all ease their homesickness a bit and be more comfortable on the road was fair
game. You’d bring gifts for everyone, none more special than the other. You
wanted them all to feel that love and support so you tried to play fair.
the i dream of jeannie graves/credence AU i didn’t want to write a whole fic for because it’s pretty crack-y but then i wrote all of this, anyway. it’s ~1600 words of sort of summary almost not!fic. (there’s also mentions of grindelwald/dumbledore)
ok, so captain percival graves, united states air force, is on some kind of a test space flight when his one-manned capsule comes down, nowhere near the planned recovery area. in fact, he’s pretty sure he’s landed on an uninhabited island. a desert island. he checks his capsule but he can’t send an sos back to base. he can only hope his tracker was working long enough that a rescue team will come get him. while he’s exploring the beach, he sees a strange bottle. it’s beautiful and, curious as to how it got there, he picks it up.
as soon as he does, black smoke comes billowing out and he drops the bottle. the smoke materialises into the form of a young man, and graves wonders if he hit his head when he crashed. the man is wearing a black velvet vest, cropped and edged in gold. his chest is otherwise bare, dusted with dark hair, the vest barely concealing dusky nipples…graves shakes his head. he needs some water. but his eyes drift back to the impossible man. his pants are sheer, and graves’s face heats as he notes the shapely legs barely concealed beneath them, all the way up to…and he sighs in relief, and MAYBE the slightest disappointment, when there are solid briefs giving at least a modicum of modesty. all in all, he looks like a…
the young man’s eyes snap to his and he tilts his head. he starts speaking in a language graves can’t understand and graves rubs his eyes vigorously. the man is still there when he opens them, babbling away. ‘i wish you could speak english,’ graves says and the next minute the man says, ‘oh, thank-you, master, now you can understand me,’ in perfect english.
“when dad ends up with no eyebrows, he’ll stop,” Magnus replied matter-of-factly from his curled up position on an armchair; a patchwork throw warming his knees as he flipped through a book. Another page was turned nonchalantly before he glanced up and over to the pair by the fireplace, still bickering good-naturedly. Sensing Magnus’ eyes on him, Alec shifted on the balls of his feet, one side of his face bathed in a warm orange glow as his mouth pulled into a lop-sided smile; the flickering embers dancing in his eyes.
Magnus returned the gesture as his gaze slid back and forth between his daughter and his husband, scrunching his nose playfully at Madzie before returning to his book, feeling as peaceful and content as perhaps he ever could. Some of that blurry, soft feeling might have been down to the strong glass of whiskey settled on the coffee table beside him, but Magnus was more inclined to blame it on the cosy aura of a familiar friend’s magic hanging in the air and belongings of the little country cottage; enveloping him like some invisible blanket.
Ohhh. My favorite Cliche fic idea!! (￣▽￣) I hope you like it.
Lance didn’t want to be married yet. Though he had no say in the matter. He was being married into a larger richer family for the benefit of their family. He was stuck in the situation, unable to say no.
His heart hurt, the knowledge that his parents would sell him off hurting him. He wasn’t really good at fighting and he was just the middle child. Not a young one, too young to be married, and never going to be on the throne.
He was to be married to Takashi Shirogane, one of the princes to the neighboring kingdom. It wasn’t known what the princes looked like, having been hidden from public view. They didn’t even know which one was the first prince, in line for the throne.
There were many rumors about the kingdom, but none from inside the kingdom. It was all from neighboring towns and villages, wondering why it always seemed so peaceful but quiet in the kingdom.
Lance sighed in thought as he finished packing his clothes. His parents weren’t even going to go to the wedding, the marriage only being a source of money for them. He shook his head and sighed, making sure to pack his favorite outfits. Then picking up his beautiful kitten. They had just gotten her recently and he had gotten permission from the kingdom that he was allowed to keep her and bring her with him when he left, the other kingdom agreeing as well.
Sighing he pressed his cheek against her, sighing as she purred comfortingly. “I don’t wanna go to an unknown place with random people. What if they’re mean..” he whispered, getting startled as there was a knock on the door. “Prince, it’s time for you to be seen off,” said the guard, leaving right after he spoke.
Sighing he put Azul in her small little carrying crate and grabbed his small bag. It wasn’t big, he didn’t want to seem too eager or brig too much stuff. All he had packed was his small silver band from he kingdom, his favorite outfits, stuff for Azul, and his skin care items.
He grabbed his bag and carried them to the front den, Azul mewling softly as he walked. Lance forced back tears and swallowed the lump trying to form in his throat. The only people there were his nana, the staff, and his best friend Hunk. “I’m gonna miss you Lance,” he said, wrapping the skinnier boy up in a giant hug.
“I’m gonna miss you too my man. Take care of everyone while I’m gone,” he said, smiling sadly as his arm was grabbed by a guard. “Time to leave,” Lance whimpered and smiling sadly at Hunk.
“See you soon,” he said as he was dragged out. Quietly he was herded into the carriage with his bags and he sat down heavily. He leaned up against the small window looking out over the small town surrounding his kingdom. It was bustling with life, and he knew that he would miss it.
The travel was really long and he was half asleep as he arrived. Quietly he got out as he arrived. His eyes wandered as he walked further in, accompanied by three guards. One with strikingly white hair, a re headed one, and a short one with brown hair. He bit his lip as he walked, unsure how to feel as he walked up to the gates of the kingdom. His eyes widened as he was walked in, it was beautiful. Distinct concrete roads with chalk drawings from earlier in the mornings. Small empty market stalls and large houses and more stores. It was so homey and welcoming. As he walked further he tried to stay awake. Azul’s meowing the only thing tethering him to consciousness at the moment in the dark and quiet kingdom.
It was a long walk to the castle. As they arrived the smaller one did something that Lance couldn’t make out and the gates opened. He was ushered in and his jaw fell open in awe. The castle was even bigger in person, it being made out of seemingly perfect concrete and stone. Lance walked inside and was blown away even more. The floors were white marble and there were pillars of the same white marble guiding the way in deeper to a throne room.
As he walked in he saw peeks of people, servants he guessed, peeking out of doors and hallways. He shuffled into the throne room, looking at the thrones that were occupied. It was the Queen and King and two smaller thrones were occupied as well. The king stood up with a bright smile. “Welcome to our Kingdom! It was quite dark out but the town is usually very beautiful and full of life! We’re so honored to have you here to marry into our family, thank you for agreeing to the marriage,” the kind gushed out, starting to talk about to kingdom.
Lance was wide eyed as he looked at him, taking in what he said the best he could. The queen finally stopped his rambling and sat him down. “You must be tired young prince, let’s have your betrothed take you to your quarters to rest,” she said with an obvious smirk. A man stood up, who he assumed as Takashi Shirogane, and oh dear Lance was doomed. He was super hot, his white tips only making him look older and sexier. His shoulders were broad and in his tight shirt it showed off the muscles as he moved.
“Nice to meet you Prince, I’m Takashi Shirogane, call me Shiro. Let’s take you to your room,” he said and offered his arm up. Lance hesitantly took it and almost instantly he was dragged out of the throne room by Shiro. The warmth coming off him made Lance even sleepier. He felt out of place here but Shiro felt warm and the warmth reminded him of home. “Thanks for bringing me here,” Lance mumbled as they stopped outside the assigned room.
“No big deal. It’s nice to meet you, I hope to see you more tomorrow,” Shiro said and bowed slightly and hurried off. Lance quietly walked into the room and set his stuff down. Sighing he put away some of his clothes and set up the small bed and toys for Azul before letting her out. Sitting on the bed he looking over the small headband he had taken. It was cold in his warm hands. Sighing he shoved it in his drawer to forget about it and curled up in bed, tears finally escaping his eyes. Azul hopped up next to him and curled up in his arms. He whimpered and pressed his face into her, sobbing quietly. “I just wanna go home. I like Shiro and the Queen and King so far but, I’m not welcome here. This isn’t where I belong…” he whimpered as he curled up tighter, finally passing out from exhaustion.
This is a lot longer than I originally expected!! I’ll probably write a second (and third depending on the length) part.
“Rhys is drinking?” Jack asks, eyeing the amber liquid in Rhys’ large glass. The omega only shrugged, swirling the sparkling liquid around in the crystal goblet.
“Yeah, but not alcohol….just apple cider.” Rhys mumbles, taking a deep gulp and licking the little amber droplets off his lips. “Dad doesn’t let me drink yet.”
“Drinking age in America is 21.” Jack comments idly, earning himself a sour look from the young omega.
“Yeah, I know. It sucks so hard.” Rhys crosses his arms, bobbing lightly on his feet as his eyes trail over the walls and ceiling of the little hallway. Like the rest of the lodge, the walls are paneled in sleek, lacquered wood, dotted with the occasional painted pastoral hanging in a bronze framed stylized with long twigs and leaves. The whole building looks far too quaint to be hosting a gathering of mob bosses, even if the intention was something as comparatively innocent as an omega cotillion.
“Like, you have no clue how much I wanna be wasted this whole weekend.” Rhys shoots a childish pout in Jack’s direction, leaning up against the wall and crossing one ankle over the other. Jack can see how the charcoal cuff of his trousers pulled up ever so slightly above his dress shoes, showing off a shockingly colorful pair of socks that certainly couldn’t be apart of outfit approved by the omega’s father.
“Bet if we were in your country I could drink whenever I wanted. I mean you guys are always drinking over there right?”
“Stereotype,” Jack grouses, taking a cautious step towards the annoyed omega, “you do not want to be here?”
Rhys snorts, rolling his eyes. He tightens his arms over his chest, eyes glancing away when Jack approaches him from the side.
“Don’t tell me you would want to be parading in front of a bunch of dumb alphas who are just trying to get a look at your ass, because if you do you can take my place.”
Rhys swirls the sparkling cider around and around in his cup, a little bit splashing out of the glass and down the curved side. Rhys lifts his hand to his mouth and sucks it off inelegantly. His other hand works at the stiff collar around his neck—able to protest, in private, the prim mold Jack can see him being forced into.
“Seriously….I used to like coming up here….when I was little I could go outside and explore, go by the river and catch frogs if I wanted to…all the flowers are gonna start blooming soon but I have to stay inside and wear these stupid clothes and look pretty and laugh and flirt so dad can marry me off to some jerk.”
“Spring is when young omegas are most fertile.” Jack comments, noticing the way Rhys’ starts, his pout deepening into a genuine, sour frown.
“Jeez, thanks….way to talk about me like I’m a frikkin’ animal….you’re just like dad.” Rhys sighs, draining the rest of his glass before placing it down on the rustic little side table.
A/N: I need to share this cause my heart hurts no Shizu-chan. Also implication of Izaya being in a relationship with someone who’s not Shizuo (because it’s unrequited Shizaya)
It hit him like a sudden epiphany.
…I never really
realized it until now.
It’s normal for a man
to be in a relationship.
Even if it’s not with
It’s Izaya, so if he’s
seriously in a relationship, he has his own reasons.
…Reasons I don’t even
The rain continued to fall onto him as Shizuo dissolved his
emotions away in his thoughts.
Izaya was still disliked by the city.
But the people he and Shizuo knew still supported him when
he had told them he was in a relationship.
Humans were supportive of other humans in matters of
There were people who would condemn Izaya for being in a
relationship with a man, but it was nothing to the man.
He had already been condemned by the city for being who he
It was nothing new to him, only now he had an angel by his
Nothing had changed.
It felt like everything around him remained the same.
He still saw Celty going around as the Black Bike, with
Shinra sometimes behind her. He saw the Raira kid whom he had told he was
quitting the Dollars, and the girl he couldn’t remember the name of. He saw the
blond boy who had apologized to him for the Yellow Scarves incident, and a girl
who was probably his girlfriend.
He saw the guy whom had honestly approached him for a fight,
Rokujou Chikage, around with his girlfriends. He saw Izaya’s sisters exploring
the city together. He saw Kasuka with Ruri in their disguises.
He himself still went around with Tom and his kouhai Vorona
in their debt collecting job.
Vorona would eventually return to Russia, but he would still
be going around collecting debts with Tom.
Tom would eventually retire if he found a better job with
his qualifications, and Shizuo would be moving onto the next job to earn his
Nothing would change.
It was a realization that would have made him shed tears –
But Shizuo didn’t care about himself enough to cry.
Izaya is normal.
He’s abnormal as a
human, but he’s not a monster like me.
I’ve had this idea in my head where I want a fic in which Kent and Alexei get secretly married and tell no one and have a little running inside joke to see how long they can keep it a secret because honestly they just want to enjoy being newlyweds without the massive amount of press that will follow coming out as the first same sex couple in sports history and since they live on opposite sides of the country and see each other rarely their time together is coveted. But then, something random happens like Kent is named “Most eligible bachelor” in some People magazine spread and when they call him up for the photo shoot (or rather it would probably be his agent/assistant/someone) he just laughs and turns it down because nope he’s a married man. But no one believes him because this is Kent Parson we’re talking about. Even when he pulls out his ring, which he wears on a chain around his neck keeping it close to his heart. So then he plus out his ketuba (because yes they are both Jewish too in this headcanon and found a rabbi who was willing to marry them) and just mindfucks the entire Aces management staff because suddenly they have no idea who the face of their franchise is and also now have to throw together a huge PR campaign for when this news inevitably goes public. Meanwhile, Alexei has no idea this is going on so after the Aces call the Falcs he gets pulled into George’s office and she just sits him down and asks “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” To which he replies no because he can’t think of anything that would have brought him down there. Then his phone rings and he looks down to see Kent calling, and since Alexei Mashkov wears his heart on his sleeve, he can’t help the grin that forms on his face before he realizes he is in front of George and tries to neutralize his smile. She speaks up and says “I’m guessing that is your husband calling” to which his face drops with shock. She then tells him what happened, he apologizes profusely for keeping it a secret. After some deliberation, Kent and Alexei decide to come out to their teams, but aren’t ready to come out publicly. Both teams give them hell for not telling and they are forced into having a second ceremony for friends and teammates. Finally, the Falcs beat the Aces out for the cup later that year (in overtime of game seven) and when the reporter asks Kent how it feels to come so close yet go home empty handed, Kent just laughs and shrugs and says, “Well considering my husband just won his first cup I’m not really going home empty handed, and I’ve never been more proud.” And that is the story of how Kent Parson and Alexei Mashkov come out to the world.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Damian Wayne
In the midst of showing Batman exactly how a city should be protected, Red Hood and Nightwing find themselves the target of a hunter determined to make them relive their years as Robin.
This story has
fantastic h/c (as adults),
de-ageing – tiny robin Dick has some wonderful shades of silver age cheese while still being recognizably Dick Grayson
great interesting and complicated family dynamics between all the batboys, and
an alternate introduction for Damian so that he meets Dick when Dick is de-aged. Guys, here are spit-shake promises which Damian treats as an oath of honor and I just – I can’t, jesus. what if they’d grown up together, can you imagine it. Dick simultaneously helping Damian navigate playground politics but also cracking up laughing anytime Damian got snarky
great outsider POV because Jason owns his rundown building and all his tenants love him and pretty much know he’s the red hood and just sigh when Jason glares at them
It’s a wip, but it’s got several self-contained little h/c plots in it, so it feels less like an unfinished story and more like a series that hasn’t published the next installment, look, i just love it, ok —->>>>