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the gorgeous and the grotesque

Posts tagged ricstar

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joasakura:

Far Rockaway:

Up until today, the strangest thing Julio Richter has seen wash up on this beach was a bumper from a 1965 Ford Galaxie. Granted, it was shoved through the eye socket of a Sentinel head, but still.

He’s lived a quiet life here, fixing cars, computers and the occasional marriage, since he buggered off from X-Factor. None of this child-soldier-protecting a world that hates and fears blah blah blah. No Right trying to make him into an earthquake machine, and certainly no FUCKING TELEPATHS all up in his shit No Offence Jean but COME ON.

He’s never been happier, taking his lunch through the overgrown wasteland that had been a residential neighbourhood before Hurricane Sandy screwed the pooch and clambering up the dunes to eat while the sea rolls in. He can feel the bedrock beneath the sand, hear the song in the jettys, and life is good.

It’s good until he sees something brilliant red-gold wash up in the grey-green tide, and at first, squinting against the sun, he thinks it’s a traffic cone. Until it’s not and he sees that it’s *hair*.

“Oh, motherfucker.” Julio curses, shoving the rest of his ham sandwich in his mouth as he scrambles down towards the water.  Facedown in the surf, sand crusting torn white leather, the man doesn’t move until Julio prods him with his foot.

There’s a wheeze and a cough and he pushes himself upright as Julio takes a step back. His face is pale and bruised, but the inky, star-like mark around one silver eye is anything but and Julio promptly falls on his ass in the sand under that sharp stare. “Are you ok?” He asks dumbly. In the back of his head, he hears Cyclops telling him to ready his powers for a possible attack, but he can’t even bring himself to try.

The redhead’s first response is to lunge for him, and suddenly his internal Scott seems vindicated, but the motion abruptly turns into a stumble and another faceplant in the sand. And then he rolls over and squints up at the sky, then back at Julio, muttering in something that sounds like Russian, except played backwards, in a voice that’s almost too deep and raspy for someone with an absurdly pretty face and enough hair to qualify as a My Little Pony.

Fuck the bumper in the sentinel head, Julio thinks as the redhead picks himself up and starts clearly cursing in that weird cheese-grater language again. This is the strangest thing Julio Richter has ever found on the beach.

Maybe just ever.

!!!

joasakura:

Shatterstar’s hair doesn’t feel exactly like hair, Rictor thinks as he scowls down at the diagram. They’re sitting on the roof of the building that houses Murderworld, and it is a muggy, suffocating East Coast summer day. Ric has taken to wearing a bandanna to keep the sweat out of his eyes, and ‘Star’s hair weighs about a hundred pounds. It’s too thick, too soft. Almost like a pelt of some massive, exotic animal bred for it’s coat and he pauses in the braid, looking at the fiery strands between his fingers. The thought twists in his gut a little bit because that is a little too on the nose.

“Your hair is really hard to braid.” He says instead. “And… are you sure you want me doin’ this? I mean, some of these styles are kind of..”

“Julio.” ‘Star tips his head back to look up at him in the scant shade of the rooftop. The humidity doesn’t bother him. Mojoworld, to the best of Rictor’s recollection, is basically a swamp – and the worst effect the weather has on ‘Star is the fact that his ends get wildly curly in the damp. “When I was in the arena, I wore that ridiculous headpiece to try and keep my hair out of my face. They only let me cut or braid it where it wouldn’t be seen by the audience. The spineless ones liked how my hair always signaled my location on the field. But it was a..” ‘Star pauses, chewing on one scarlet coil. “A liability at times. This. This is my choice. And I do not want anyone else touching my hair if I can have a say in the matter.” There’s a tiny wrinkle at the corner of his silvery eyes and Ric’s heart skips a beat. That minuscule tic of a smile that he only does for him.

“Ok, but if Jimmy says you look like a pretty princess…” Ric starts again as ‘Star resettles himself.

“I will thank him and tell him to get on his knees. A princess deserves respect.” ‘Star replies, perfectly deadpan and Ric doesn’t have to see his face to know that he’s smiling.

😀

+ high-res version

joasakura:

“We’re like the Hardy Boys! The Winchesters! Solvin’ mysteries, killin’ monsters, savin’ people. The family business.”

“Were the Hardy Boys having sex in their car as well?”

“Yeah, OK …We are nothin’ like the Hardy Boys. Or the Winchesters for that matter.”

“The fanfiction I have read may contraindicate that.”

“Don’t sully my childhood you filthy goblin.”

“I love you too, Julio.”


(art by the wonderful @averagexmendrawings  that he graciously let me colour ^_^<3)

😀

joasakura:

(ah! I haven’t written these dorks in too long!! <3)

“Go away.” Rictor says for the fifth time. “I can still hear you breathing on the other side.”

They are living in the ruins of Camp Verde, and outside its a hundred degrees in the shade. (It’s a dry heat,) Rictor thinks, vaguely hysterical. (You can barely feel how hot he is when he brushes past you.)

The bathroom Ric has ensconced himself in is cooler, marginally, but the grubby blue tile doesn’t help the burning, shameful heat in his chest.

“Your hearing is not that good. I am a very quiet breather.” Comes the voice through the heavy door, all wavy glass and chipped wood. “Feral might hear me. Or Theresa. But not you.”

“I still knew you were there, asshole.” Ric sinks further down onto the tile floor, back pressed hard against the door, as if he might have the strength to keep ‘Star out if the redhead really, truly wanted in.

“Julio, I don’t understand what I did.” ‘Star says and there’s a soft rasp and a shift of wood just slightly as he leans against it as well.

“You were thinkin’ about me. About us. In front’a fuckin’ Cable. You know he can read minds, right? I saw that look he gave and.. fuck. Dios FUCK. He’s gonna know that you an’ I .. That you. I’m not. I’m just.. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO THINK SO HARD? WHY DID YOU SAY ALL THAT SHIT ABOUT NOT HAVING ANY FEELINGS IN THAT FUCKING ARENA WHEN YOU FUCKING VERY CLEARLY HAVE SOMETHING.” Ric’s voice strangles into an enraged squeak and the room shudders in sympathy with his powers until, panting, he reins them back in, watching the plaster dust drift from the ceiling in the slanting, golden light.

He doesn’t realise how ridiculous it all sounds, though, until he listens to the echoes, and he covers his face in a fresh wash of shame. “Just go away, Shatterstar.”

“I will not. But I will attempt to stop breathing for a while, if that will give you some solace.” ‘Star says as if that is an actual, reasonable solution. “To show love… to show anything in the arena was something that could be used against a gladiator. But.” There’s a long pause as ‘Star tries to gather his thoughts, punctuated by soft muttering in Cadre that Ric doesn’t understand, not yet. Not the way ‘Star is learning Spanish for him and Ric wants to punch himself in the face for being a coward.

“But I think loved some of them, Ric. And.” His voice grows softer, head tilted away from the door and Ric can picture him chewing on the end of one of his long braids. “And I think. I think I may love you too. And.. it frightens me. But if it upsets you. I will stop. I will try. I don’t.. you are my friend and I ..”

Ric wonders if ‘Star can hear his own words, muffled through the faded wood. “I think I love you too.”