#I’d imagine Moon is going to absolutely lose it when he finds out? like he’ll yell at Eclipse?

[h-didanart]

E: hay have a chip bloodmoon

Bloodmoon suspicious

Still eats

Eclipse no!

BLOODMOON NO—

The expressions, oh my god they’re amazing, so goofy, I love them, very good lore, very good drawings

[meltingpotimagines]

Husband!Hawks

this mans

is not husband material

but!

for the right girl? he may be willing to play the part

listen, mans may not be a simp but he is cHARMING okay? he got potential

besides he’s lowkey a simp for the right girl but whatever

was very romantic when he proposed

managed to rent out an entire park perks of being the #2 hero

decked out a gazebo with fairy lights, candles, and rose petals

considered making a heart with the rose petals but decided just scattering them around would be classier and less cheesy

set up a picnic with a basket f u l l of food

sandwiches, cheese, fruit, desserts, the works

and ofc a bottle of champagne bc tonight you two would be celebrating

or so he hoped

you wouldn’t say no right?

i mean who could say no to that gorgeous face pHEW

pulled out the ring box right as you swallowed the last of the macaron you’d been nibbling on

his heart sped up as your eyes widened, a breathless ‘keigo’ escaping your lips

“i know you might not be ready, but the more i get to know you, the more i realize that i don’t want to live the rest of my life without you. you’re the girl of my dreams, and i never want to wake up. would you marry me?”

“are you s t u p i d? ofc i will!”

his grin has never been as bright as it was at that moment

slipped the ring onto your finger and immediately pulled you into his arms and took off into the air

slowed your assent as you two soared above the clouds and spun around, unable to contain his joy

gazed at your face with those golden eyes, taking in your beauty, before giving you the sweetest, most tender kiss you’ve ever felt

oh boy the wedding

when i tell you this was an e v e n t i mean anyone who was anyone wanted to go to this wedding

but only those that were close to the two of you were invited

haha suckerrrs

somehow got all might to officiate

who knew all might could officiate weddings? 

certainly neither of you

no one really knows how that decision came to be but i mean no one was complaining either so

he let you make all the decisions except for one

the flowers

he h a d to be involved in the flowers

he appreciates pretty flora and if the bouquets and floral arrangements at his wedding weren’t the prettiest possible he would n o t be satisfied

teared up as you walked down the aisle (which he will neither confirm nor deny)

not that he wasn’t lookin’ mighty fine too

just imagine: tan suit with a black button up and a gold tie, gold cufflinks with a ruby set in each

i know those are his costume colors but he looks good in them so y’all can fight me

dipped you for your first kiss as husband and wife to everyone’s amusement

best believe a few different cameras caught that

the timing of the wedding was planned out so the reception was held at night

semi-sheer white tents and custom black ten-feet tall candelabras

the soft glow from the candles combined with the moonlight made for the perfect dreamy vibe 

he managed to find a florist that could dye white roses black and cover them them with a thin layer of gold glitter

was it necessary? no

did it look good? heck yeah

the gold glitter shined beautifully against the black roses

tho

the way your eyes sparkled as you danced with him was far more captivating

you two had flown up into the sky to dance your first dance together

your silhouettes against the bright moon made for a perfect picture

the only reason you ended up coming down was because neither of you had eaten much that day and a guy’s gotta eat

he gonna need stamina later *winky face*

you cannot convince me the man wouldn’t insist on fried chicken

like a whole buffet table of different flavors

but i mean fried chicken is good so can’t blame him

everyone expected him to smear some cake on your face when he fed you that first piece

instead wiped off the frosting that got on your lips with his thumb and licked it off

your best friend caught t h a t one on camera and will never stop teasing you about how flustered you got

he kept up a great image of a polite host but on the inside he was ready to g o

it had been a long day and he was ready love on his wife

heh

wife

he likes the sound of that

peppers your face with kisses on the ride home

yeah yeah i know h o n e y m o o n but where y’all were goin’ was forever away and mans just wants to shower you with affection as soon as possible (esp considering he had to keep his hands off you all day since you two never had a moment alone)

scoops you up the second you’re out of the car and carries you over the threshold

gives you a soft kiss before putting you down

and that’s the last soft kiss you’re gonna get for the night lolllll

definitely the type to make you breakfast in the morning

also the type to cook in nothing but an apron and boxers but anyway

you better be up in time to see that sight bc if not, you’re getting breakfast in bed not that i’d complain

he’s not the best cook but mans can manage some bacon and eggs

plus some fresh fruit bc it makes it more visually appealing and less like he doesn’t really know how to cook

he set the tray on your lap and climbs back into bed, pulling you into his side so your head can rest on his chest as you two munch on breakfast

there’s something so soothing about the sound of his heartbeat

a soft little rhythm that nearly puts you back the sleep

didn’t help that he was unconsciously running his fingertips along your arm, drawing random squiggles and shapes

will tilt your head up by the chin every so often to give you a little peck on the lips

if you do fall asleep, he’ll just gaze at you softly while lightly tracing your features

still can’t process that you’re married

someone actually loved him enough to marry him

there was someone that didn’t just admire or use him bc of his quirk

didn’t give him attention purely bc he’s the number 2 hero

you saw all his flaws and shortcomings and insecurities and loved him regardless

if he’s dreaming, please don’t wake him up

you cleaning him wings for him is something he loves so much

it’s such an intimate task that makes him feel cared for

loved

how much time you take in cleaning them and how tenderly you handle each wing

it’s one of his favorite ways to spend time with you

it’s nice being taken care of for once, esp when he’s always taking care of others

absolutely loves taking you on night flights

will take you in his arms and just soar above the clouds

with the clouds below you and the stars above, it feels like you two are the only people that exist

definitely dances with you during some of those flights

wraps one arm more tightly around your waist and take your hand in his and just… slowly spins in the air

it doesn’t look like much but when you’re just looking into each other’s eyes, it feels like the most romantic and intimate moment you could ask for

your life is quite literally in his hands but you’ve never felt safer

even more so when you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook

his arms wound securely around your waist, the comforting smell of his scent, the kisses he presses to your temple every so often

it feels like home

likes startling/scaring you a lot

will sneak into the house after work just so he can tap on your shoulder from behind 

the gasp you let out as you freak out for half a second never fails to amuse him the jerk

will always make it up to you with long, deep kiss

if he gets home late after a long day he’ll just crawl into bed and pull you into his arms before burying his face into your hair

no talking, just breathes in your scent before he crashes

he sleeps really well like that, but, although he won’t admit it, he sleeps best when you hold him, his face buried in your chest

he feels warm and safe, like it’s okay to be vulnerable for once

absolutely flirts with you while at work

probably definitely sends you a few spicy pics or texts

it gives him such smug satisfaction knowing the affect he has on you when he’s not even physically there

picks up take-out when he knows your too tired to or would rather not cook

like to back hug you and wrap you up with his wings

9/10 times will bury his face in your neck and nuzzle

sometimes if he spots you while on patrol, he’ll fly over and flirt with you

“how you doin’, gorgeous? the name’s hawks. what’s a pretty lil’ thing like you doin’ in a neighborhood like this?”

sir, this is one of the safest areas in the city pLS-

but if you actually a r e in danger? oh boy

no one, and i mean no one, touches his girl

honestly i’d rather fight bakugo one on one than deal with keigo’s wrath

he’s one of the chillest people you will ever meet, but when he’s that mad? s c a r y

will keep a close watch on you for a while after that

asks you to always let him know where you’ll be and to text him when you get home

definitely considered installing a tracking app on your phones

he’ll calm down eventually, but for the moment he’s extremely anxious

although he certainly tried his best to hide it

he didn’t want to stress you out too, especially if you had any anxieties from it yourself

he was just afraid to lose you

he doesn’t know what he’d do without you

after all, you’re the most precious thing in the world to him and he loves you more than he could ever put into words

[butdidmarlenacomebackhome]

✨hcs for the courtiers reacting to their s/o wearing their trademark outfits✨

i think i did a pretty decent job at keeping this gender-neutral, let me know if there is any mistake/room for improvement. i'd love to hear your feedback 👉🏻👈🏻

🍷consul valerius

• blushes hard

• "what a presumptious lack of decorum" said while still blushing, therfore only half-hearted

• desperately tries to hide how much he likes it but his eyes permanently glued on you kind of betray him

• the only thing he loves more than himself & his status is you, so imagine how utterly smug would he be about seeing you in his attire (not that he'd ever openly show it!!! it wouldn't be proper of him 👀👀👀)

• if you follow him around/he catches sight of you while going about his day, any hope to get things done is thrown out the window

• he's definitely not staring at you during the courtiers' meeting, his eyes just happened to focus on the general area where you're standing/sitting

• at the end of the day will literally leave you a note on your bed saying you can keep the clothes, you're welcome ("my wardrobe can afford to lose a spare, while yours could definitely use something fashionable for a change")

• spoiler it's just a roundabout way to say he wants to see you wearing his clothes again & more often 👀

• from that day on, will go out of his way to gift you jewelry, clothes, accessories matching to his own and fully expects you to always wear them

🍖procurator volta

• blushes like crazy & her eyes literally fill with stars & sparkles,, almost cries bc of what she perceives to be a clear display of affection

• "mc!!! you look!!! absolutely!!! gorgeous!!!" in modern!au would definitely tell you you look like a snackkk but to be fair she thinks you're gorgeous on any normal day

• follows you around the whole day & shily holds your hand, she loves the idea of the two of you making your way through the palace in matching outfits

• normally she'd be pretty quaint but with you by her side reassuring her of your love so openly,,, she's just over the moon my friends 🚀🚀🚀

• thinks her clothes suit you better than they'd ever do on her, but on a side note she also probably thinks anything would look good on you (the precious baby ಥ_ಥ)

• she's also pretty honored to have you dress like her, it's like a public love declaration & it makes her all fuzzy to know you're not embarrassed of her

• she'll literally convince you to stop for snacks every 15 minutes tho & no matter what you're doing or what business you're attending to, you just can't resist her puss in boots eyes & decide to join her every single time

• at the end of the day, she hugs you (I hc her loving pda but rarely initiating it bc she's too shy, so it's a bit of a shock to suddenly receive a hug from her in the middle of the castle hallway) & thanks you for the wonderful day. snuggle with her in bed. do it.

tw. for slight nsfw-ish in next one but it's literally just an allusion that's barely even there + like 1 swear word

🐞pontifex vulgora

• does a double take, like they probably were just storming the hallways going off on a tangent about how tHERE'S NOT BEEN A SINGLE FIGHT IN DECADES AND THEY'RE SO WILLING TO START ONE WITH THE FIRST ONE THEIR EYES LAND ON- and then their eyes land on you and they have to check again to see if they'd actually seen what they think they've seen

• and holy shit do you look hot

• the gauntlets on you? the armor attire? yes ma'am please and thank you

• 100% will tease you at first

• "WHAT IS THIS? HAVE YOU FINALLY FALLEN OFF THE COUNTESS' GRACES NOT TO BE ABLE TO AFFORD YOUR OWN CLOTHES ANYMORE, MAGICIAN?"

• when you scoff & tell them you'd go get changed, they phisically S T O P you

• "I DIDN'T SAY YOU COULD GO, MAGICIAN. ARE YOU BACKING OUT OF YOUR OWN DECISION? IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD YOU HAVE TO STICK TO IT, PET"

• proceeds to drag you wherever they go to show you off & always finds a way to keep their hands on you (they prolly also start carrying you on their shoulder at some point)

• will probably try to convince you to fight because you "have to look the part", your call if you want to humor the smol anger issues gremlin or not

• at the end of the day, they'd unabashedly ask you to keep the gauntlets on for later 👀

💉quaestor valdemar

• “oh what do we have here?”

• dr uwu is already more or less accustomed to seeing you in medical gear given the amount time you spend together in the dungeons (loveliest place for play dates mind you) but seeing you in their clothes is indeed something new

• a little confused at first but they got the spirit

• might tilt their head when they see you at first, then circle around you with that little cute smug smirk on their face to inspect you throughly and take you in from all angles [ I'm looking: respectfully 😌 ] just like a cat

• MOST IMPORTANTLY!! you know how they got those two cute bandaged silly cones on their head right??? there's no way you could get those to stand upright so you just kinda bandaged your head & gave up on trying to replicate the exact look but,, dr uwu notices & they're like ay no capt'n this ain't gonna fly here

• “now, now little magician we simply can't have that. a job half done is only half the fun after all” and they actually!!! make you sit down!!! reach out behind you!!! and start working on the bandages!!! braiding your hair!!! tucking them in!!! giving you their trademark cape!!!! yes i'm melting as i write this

• they too would appreciate having you around just to observe everyone's reactions to you both casually walking through the palace (shockingly) or in the dungeons while wearing matching clothes

• power couple tbh you'd have fun intimidating & unsettling every poor soul unlucky enough to encounter you on their path

• “are you having fun, my little magician? you seem to amuse yourself quite easily”

• at the end of the day if you ask nicely they may accept to lend them to you some other time you can tell they actually had quite a bit of fun too even if they don't say so out loud

🐛praetor vlastomil

• “s/o! what a lovely sight for sore eyes!”

• one word: e c s t a t i c

• def appreciates the gesture and gets quite vocal about it,, this worm baby will shower you with compliments and attention all day

• prepare yourself to be paraded around all day while vlastomil stops random servants just to say things along the lines of “look at my gorgeous s/o, aren't they just lovely?” cue love struck gaze towards you

• he ignores whatever response random servant #143 comes up with & quickly moves on

• you know what time is it??? time to visit your babies!!! the wormies would be so happy to see you!! I hope you're not squeamish he will prompt them to show you some love too

• probably urges you to keep your head high and be confident as you walk arm in arm to remind the peasants where they stand (beneath the soles of your shoes) together <3

• probably takes you for a carriage ride to show you off some more & stare flippantly at peasants

• will fix any slight imperfection every 2 seconds, like tilting your cape so that it doesn't hang too low nor too on the side & if he's close enough he'll give you a smooch or two too istg this man has no chill

• at the end of the day he whines sm because he doesn't want you to take off his clothes,, if you manage to convince him you actually have to get changed be prepared to be BOMBARDED with requests for you to do it again for the rest of your life

[firemanwhenthefloodsrollback]

Who Saved The Day? Season Four

Welcome to the fourth instalment of Who Saved The Day? in which I'm working out who, numerically, saved the day in the most episodes of Buffy. As the totals list is getting quite long now I'll just put the characters who have more than one point here to summarise where we are at the end of season three:

Buffy: 32

Angel: 5

Giles: 4

Faith: 2

Willow: 2

Xander: 2

Now that we're out the end of season 3 we've said goodbye to Angel so I don't imagine he'll get many more points. let's see where the totals go in season four - one of the most varied and (if we're being cruel) all over the place seasons, so I'm not at all sure yet what we'll find.

1. The Freshman: Buffy

Emotional moment in an otherwise average episode when the class protector award inspires Buffy to come out fighting and kill that mean vampire with a tennis racket.

2. Living Conditions: Giles

Hard to call this one as Buffy certainly does a lot, but I'm going with giving Giles the point here because he put Buffy's soul back into her body in the nick of time.

3. The Harsh Light of Day: Buffy

Removing Spike's jewellery counts as saving the day in this episode.

4. Fear, Itself: Buffy

Giles might arrive with the chainsaw but Buffy does the stomping.

5. Beer Bad: Buffy

Off topic but what was this episode friends? Buffy saves Willow and Parker from the fire but, a far more important victory, she gets Parker in the head with the club and honestly that deserves the point infinitely more.

6. Wild At Heart: Oz

Look I know Buffy tranquillised Oz after he ripped Veruca's throat out, but how could I not watch Oz kill Veruca to defend Willow and not give him the point. I love you Oz.

7. The Initiative: Willow

Weird episode? I'm not sure who the villain was, really, because Spike and the Initiative both come across as a bit useless here and I didn't feel a lot of threat. Buffy fights the initiative soldiers but doesn't accomplish much, so Willow gets the point for hitting Spike with a lamp.

8. Pangs: Buffy

Buffy stabs the bear. Angel was maybe less helpful than I'd have hoped for his grand return.

9. Something Blue: Willow

Another episode like Doppelgangland where the person who caused the trouble ends the trouble, but I'll take that. Another point for Willow and side note, this is one of my absolute favourite comedy episodes they ever did.

10. Hush: Buffy

Riley may have destroyed the box but Buffy did the scream, so the point is hers. Also I'm not inclined to rule in Riley's favour more than I have to. That's just me declaring my biases.

11. Doomed: Buffy

You don't dive into the Hellmouth and get deprived of a point.

12. A New Man: Riley

Riley? Idk. He arrests Ethan while Buffy is fighting Giles by mistake so sure Riley, have a point. Ethan's still cooler than you though.

13. The I In Team: Buffy

Buffy fights the demons and makes a cool speech, winning her the point.

14. Goodbye Iowa: Buffy

Not really an episode in which the day was saved but Buffy came out of the fight with Adam best of everyone there.

15. This Year's Girl: Buffy

Flawless episode. Flawless episode in which nobody won. I had absolutely no idea who to give the point to here because Buffy fully loses here. This is the hardest episode so far for me needing to pick someone who saves the day every time. Buffy fighting Faith keeps Joyce safe and gives her some time to call the police? It doesn't do anything good long term but she gets the point because no one else does.

16. Who Are You: Tara

Look this one was hard. Willow and Tara do the spell to conjure the device that switches Buffy and Faith's bodies back, and I think they deserve credit equally but my stupid rules that I came up with don't let me do that. Tara is on top of her game this episode and she really drives the plan working so she gets the point, but I'm really splitting hairs to give it to her over Willow. Maybe I should give it to Willow. Maybe I should give it to Buffy. Idk.

17. Superstar: Jonathan

Jonathan pushed the demon into the pit so he gets the point. Yeah, I feel weird about it too.

18. Where The Wild Things Are: Anya

Anya and Xander earned the point equally here, but my rules won't let me give them both the point. Season four is the hardest one by a long way to choose who gets what. I'm going with Anya because she saved Xander in the bathroom and seemed more in control of the situation in general, but I'll hear arguments for why it shouldn't be her.

19. New Moon Rising: Buffy

What an emotionally complex episode. Buffy rescues Tara from Oz and then rescues Oz from the initiative, so it's Buffy all around here really. The only thing she couldn't save was my heart.

20. The Yoko Factor: Buffy

No one saves the day. The day is not saved. But Buffy leaves at the end with the intention of saving the day and that's honestly... all we've got here. I don't know. Please argue with me here I have no idea.

21. Primeval: Buffy

Everyone did the spell but Buffy did the Matrix.

22. Restless: Buffy

My heart's darling. You can tell from my url that I love this episode. Buffy is everything here and no one else gets a look in.

And that's season four! More morally complex than I remembered and also a lot of episodes where no one wins anything. I'm more open to being argued with here than for any of the previous seasons because this was hard.

Totals at the end of season four:

Buffy: 43

Angel: 5

Giles: 5

Willow: 4

Anya: 2

Faith: 2

Oz: 2

Xander: 2

Other people who only got 1 each: 8

I'm excited for season 5 because I think things are going to get intense.

Read the rest of the series if you would like to! my intro post, Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Season 5, Season 6, Season 7

[queenofthefullmoon]

An exhaustive list of Bloodborne bosses I would or would not date

Father Gascoigne

We’re starting this list off with a strong yes. You may be like, but Blue, this is a married man with two daughters! To this I reply: I pretend not to hear it. Also, not to be horrible, but his wife is dead while I’m right there baby, with my blunderbuss and my axe, and I’m ready to risk it all. YES, I know he’s a very stinky man, but you gotta make compromises sometimes. What’s that smell? Ah, the sweet dilf, it sings to me.

Cleric Beast

Let me be clear, I’m not a furry, but the Cleric Beast has stated some facts and made some points! The only reason why I’m not to keen on dating it is that it can’t best me in battle, which is something I’m always looking for in a partner.

Blood Starved Beast

Our first no of the list, I’m not very into skin flaps and poison, which the Blood Starved Beast has plenty of. Moreover, I’d have to get Djura’s approval, and that scares me beyond anything else in Yharnam.

Vicar Amelia

Another Cleric Beast, this time with a bit more flair to it. First of all we just have to admire the way she transforms, very sexy and bloody, which is something you’re gonna want in your relationship if you’re someone who likes fun. (Thiccar) Amelia, cradle me like your golden pendant.

Hemwick witches

Another hard no here. No offense, but I like having eyes, and dating a pair of witches covered in eyes that they’ve been harvesting for years doesn’t seem like a good idea to me!

Shadows of Yharnam

Honestly yeah? You get 3 cool partners in black robes for the price of one. They all wield different weapons, which makes for two excellent things. First of all, you get a very efficient bodyguard team (useful at parties, when a hunter gets drunk on blood, or when you open your front door and a beast is there). Secondly, if you want to have a fun sparring match with your partners, which we all know is a fundamental activity in a couple, you have very varied options!

And a bonus for animal lovers: they can spawn snakes at will for you!! Never a boring day with your 3 hooded partners.

Rom, the vacuous spider

NO. Don’t date Rom. She’s baby! She doesn’t understand what’s going on. Instead, here’s a list of nice activities you can do with Rom:

- Read her stories

- Trims her back growths

- Clean her teeth

- Make her some cute little glasses

- Knit matching socks for her and her children

- Teach her new spells

- Not date her

Darkbeast Paarl

Paarl is a similar situation as Rom. He’s just a little puppy… He doesn’t know what dating is. He knows what going on a walk means, though! So go on, go on a happy little walk with Paarl. He’ll love it, you’ll have fun, everyone will be happy.

Amygdala

Yes. Evidence that it’s a good idea is: lots of arms (good hugs), can grab the shit out of me, CAN and WILL crush me, can sometimes shatter my consciousness with its eldritch powers (very sexy), can send me in other dimensions, will annihilate my enemies with a funky laser beam, and the most amazing feature: can pop it’s eyes out of its skull like a stress ball (fun trick to show your friends at parties). The ideal girlfriend.

The One Reborn

NO!!!!! There’s a lot of freaky stuff I’d date in Bloodborne but the One Reborn is NOT one of them. Firstly, it has 6 nannies. Do I look like the type of person who wants their dates consistently moderated by 6 Pthumerian elders? No!!! I’m a free bitch baby!! And in addition to that, Juan Reborn just has too many limbs. It’s not okay. If we ever got engaged I wouldn’t know where to slip the ring.

Micolash, Host of the Nightmare

Would I..? No, I wouldn’t… Unless? Haha, just kidding. Wait… Actually… Um.

I mean… If you’re into bastardous hysterical little men who howl while running around, sure. BUT beware… You might lose him in a mirror and never find him again, which I find very inconvenient. Imagine going shopping with a guy who compulsively disappears in mirrors. Imagine explaining to the store employees why your dumbass boyfriend broke all their mirrors.

Also, how will we kiss?  With the cage on the way?

Oh god, do I have to wear a cage too?

Celestial Emissaries

I’m not against having a multitude of partners but I’m afraid that might be too much for me. Also, they look like little tiny bebes. I know I’ve said before that I wasn’t ready to be a parent, but I might make an exception for the Celestial Emissaries — let them chill in my home, make them pb&j sandwiches, stuff like that.

Ebrietas, Daughter of the Cosmos

Dear Ebrietas… I have a lot of fondness for her but she looks way too much like mac’n’cheese for comfort. She’s invited for sleepovers and all, no doubt about that, but I see our future together as platonic.

Martyr Logarius

Now Listen… Logarius is an Enemy of women. The proof of his crimes still remains in Cainhurst castle. Do I want to date the genocidal Yharnam Santa? Are you really asking me that? Do you take me for Executioner Alfred? I am not crazy. I will not date Martyr Logarius and his red skulls spamming ass (however miss Annalise queen of the Vilebloods, call me).

Mergo’s Wet Nurse

Um yes of course? Tall dark eldritch wife? I feel like Mergo’s Wet Nurse is the Dancer of Bloodborne, where I’m in a situation where I’m presented with the ideal girlfriend and people expect me to say no because she’s an enormous eldritch entity who could kill me in one hit or whatever. Do you think me a coward? Do you believe that I am not willing to risk it all for invisible girls? Think again.

Gehrman, the First Hunter

Ew no! Gross! He’s gonna make a doll designed after me and I will have to call the police!

Moon Presence

On one hand yes (see Mergo’s Wet Nurse) but on the other hand… I feel like the Moon Presence would be too possessive and easily jealous. I just need some freedom, yknow? The liberty to go out and make friends with other Great Ones. And I know she would NOT like that. She’d ask me if I’m the only Great One I’m talking to and I’d have to nervously hide my phone and say Yes Babe Always Babe, lest she would shackle me to an unending dream. I’m not about that life.

Ludwig the Accursed/the Holy Blade

I genuinely don’t know what to say. The screaming horse man? Am I— the horse boy? Him? No. I… I’m not gonna. I love his sword. Lots of class. Very good theme song, could be cool to have him as a friend (maybe I could ride him around to different locations?) but to date? Kiss his horse mouth? KISS HIS EYE MOUTH? You could say that… Neigh.

Laurence, the First Vicar

NOW WE’RE TALKING BABEY… All the class of the Cleric Beast with FIRE included! Picture this: it’s the winter, it’s snowing, and you’re cold… NOT! You are dating a FLAMING BEAST, you are never cold. Laurence has one proper arm to hold you and one arm that’s a constant flaming inferno, which means he’s great for the summer and the winter, depending on which temperature you want to be at. Your enormous flaming boyfriend will always be at your side.

Living Failures

First of all mood, second of all, this is kind of a Celestial Emissaries situation where I’m not against having many partners but I don’t want a whole congregation of them. There’s just too many Living Failures. I also like dating people with faces? And that aren’t, like, blue. So it’s a no from me, but I’ll befriend them. I’ll go garden with them and all. We can have a girls’ night, it’s all good.                      

Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower

I’m gonna have to be predictable and say yes here, but fair warning, Lady Maria isn’t for everyone! I know she looks like the perfect wife, but get this; this lady is a hunter. She’s only a lady because she’s related to royals. She has nothing ladylike in her. You think she takes baths? You think she knows what self-care IS????? I laugh at your ignorance, at how you misunderstand her. Maria is a stinky girl; but she is MY stinky girl.

Orphan of Kos

I don’t want to date the Orphan of Kos because he was literally just born and still has his placenta attached to him.  I don’t care for infants, and I don’t care for violent infants. I wouldn’t even want to invite him over to play with the Celestial Emissaries or something. He’s like that asshole child in kindergarten who hurts the other kids for fun. Am I being harsh to a literal baby and an orphan at that? Maybe. But Kos herself couldn’t tell me I’m wrong.

Bonus chalice boss: Yharnam, Pthumerian Queen

Now listen here… Yharnam is a queen, tall and kinda eldritch, absolutely rabid, which we’ve established is my type. Shall I step on the toes of Oedon and declare her mine? Perhaps. She has a very powerful scream, which worries me in case of a domestic fight, but overall I get to marry a kind of eldritch queen, which is alright in my book. I know she has an equally eldritch baby, but it’s formless, so it doesn’t bother me that much.   Dark Souls 1 ll Dark Souls 2 SOTFS ll Dark Souls 3

[bluesockets]

HUGO WEIDERMANN ( HE/HIM ) is a CIS MALE, THIRTY-SEVEN year old THERAPIST & PSYCHIATRIST who has been living in Moorbrooke for TWO YEARS. They were born on MARCH 5 and right now, they are currently residing in REDGRAVE GROVE. It has been said that they look suspiciously like MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER and if they had to choose a song to describe themselves, they would choose HEAVY BALLOON by FIONA APPLE. ( ox, 21+, cst, he/him )

❮ it grows relentless like the teeth of a rat it's just got to keep on gnawing at me !! ❯ TW : ILLNESS, DRINKING MENT. !

full name : hugo weidermann. nicknames : he actually hates most derivatives of his name. calling him ‘huey’ is a one way ticket to getting your number blocked. pronouns : he/him. age : thirty-seven. date of birth : march 5, 1984. zodiac : pisces. gender : cis male. sexuality : gay. hometown : munich, germany. current residence : redgrave grove. languages spoken : german + english.

BIO !

—— hugo was born into a moderately wealthy family right in the middle of munich, germany. his parents pushed a lot of their #grindset on him and his baby sister. unfortunately for him, this meant a future of perfectionism and unrelenting gifted kid syndrome. he sacrificed a lot of his social needs for grades early in his life and after a while, it all became second nature. once in a blue moon he’d talk to his peers in scouting but he’d stutter, stumble over his words, and never quite found the right things to say. figuring himself a lost cause, he studied. he helped his mom with the garden. maybe occasionally played half life or duke nukem on the family computer. all of this dedication to perfection made him a shoe-in for harvard university, all the way over in the united states. his parents, father especially, encouraged the idea. that was all he needed to get himself on a plane to massachusetts. he was just glad his family could afford frequent flights back home, in case everything went to shit. —— when he first landed, hugo thought he’d only be in the states for school, but he ended up liking it a lot more than he thought he would. after finishing school and taking up a residency in downtown boston, he moved to new york. he made a good amount of money, was able to keep in touch with the few friends he met in college, and even secured a few long term relationships along the way. he hit his thirties and finally felt that he reached a point of contentment. this ... didn’t last long. —— right before he was able to buy his first house in the city he fell ill and, after seeing more doctors than he could count on both hands and feet, was diagnosed with lupus and rheumatoid arthritis. this wasn’t something he thought he was going to be able to handle by himself, so his sister came down from her home in germany to assist him with his daily needs. the two of them definitely couldn’t afford new york and medical bills on hugo’s salary alone, which led them to pack their bags and head to ( what his sister considered ) the next best option. moorbrooke, maine !! he wasn’t too stoked about this. he’d be leaving most of his support system behind and he knew absolutely nothing about the area, but his sister found a job there and it was a good place for him to start a private practice of his own. he’s still struggling over the loss of independence and the complete change from where he was in life before, but he’s coping ! after spending a lot of time inside and away from the people of moorbroke, he finally thinks he might be ready to actually make a life here. even if he wasn’t, his sister isn’t gonna move the two of them any time soon.

TIDBITS !

he’s a very nice dude and will totally engage with people, he just cannot bring himself to let his walls down. you really gotta know hugo well if you wanna have a conversation about anything serious without him deflecting the whole damn time.

his accent .... god rest his soul. he’s been living here for 20 years and sometimes people still need to take a second to understand him. especially when he drinks. two beers in and the man needs a translator.

speaking of drinking, he doesn’t do it often, and he can’t hold his liquor. i’d actually advise people to never give him alcohol. like, ever.

was on the rowing team in college. please don’t ask him about it. he’ll talk about it forever.

if it weren’t for his dog and his bees he’d be at rock bottom. outside of writing ( which i will get to in a jiffy ), beekeeping is his favorite hobby. ask him nicely and he might give you a jar of honey.

before coming down with lupus and RA he wrote two very boring books for psychiatrists and psychiatrists only. now that his focus has shifted away from his career a little bit, he’s in the middle of writing a poetry collection.

you will find this man at every bookstore in a 10 mile radius. he can’t be in the sun for too long so instead he likes to look at stuff he promises himself he won’t buy and then buys it anyway.

CONNECTIONS !

clients

he’s got fifteen clients on his caseload just to keep himself from losing his mind. he specializes in family, grief, trauma, and stress but doesn’t limit himself too much because of how small the town is. what i’m saying is : let hugo prescribe your characters drugs.

fellow beekeepers

he’s kept to himself a lot during his time in moorbrooke but his sister used to force him out at least some of the time. she drives him to beekeepers association events and conventions often enough, i would imagine it’d be a lot easier for him to talk to someone who shares the same niche hobby !! if your muse doesn’t keep bees, i’m always down for him to talk to some of the people who buy his honey at farmer’s markets.

former close friends

hugo met a lot of people ( particularly on harvard’s rowing team ) in college and during his stint in new york. i’m sure it’d be great for him to meet someone he knew up here because he’s honestly so tired of having to get used to new situations by himself.

flirtationship but hugo is oblivious the entire time

this guy is definitely the type to flirt with people on accident. i think it’d be really fuckin funny if he was flirting back and forth w someone he wasn’t consciously flirting with in the first place.

😏

listen the only thing i love playing out more slow burn self improvement and found family is romance. he’s been single since he was in new york and i think he deserves a little smooch. please dm me if your muse is also deserving of a little smooch.

etc, etc, etc !

there’s definitely more i want. i want everything you have to give me. however, if you’re in need of specifics, i would love to see : his doctors, people he can become friends with + let his walls down around, people he can teach german to, other authors, beta readers, and neighbors !

what am i missing. ah, yes.

pinterest / spotify [coming soon!]

[infinites-chaser]

//.reverie // mlqc // lucien

print(hello world)

im knee deep in a writing slump bUT i plugged a paragraph of writing into this funky little neural network and kept generating 500 words with it for. an aBSURD amount of time (while also telling it to focus on including the words ‘memory’ ‘dreams’ and ‘color’) and what it spit out was the cOOLEST. and i tried to kinda parse through it to find the most interesting bits and make it slightly more coherent and it ended up being a little like how i’d imagine a series of dreams Lucien might’ve had post ch.18 so i hope someone? enjoys?

warning for non-explicit drug use, general fragmentATion and lack of narrative plot or coherence, the bizarre nature of dreams, spoiler-adjacent content for ch.13 and hinting at stuff from ch.18 onwards

The paragraph the neural network consumed (from watch the universe expand):

"You know, sometimes I think the stars must be lonely," she says, and though he doesn't dare look at her, he hears her both in real life and through the phone speaker cradled close to his ear. He feels rather than sees her move closer to his side of the balcony, closing the distance, coming to the edge.

"They're thousands of light years away from each other," she continues. "Maybe they wonder if they're all alone, sometimes, if they're the only light for miles in an empty, endless dark sea."

"It makes me sad, to think about it. We spend our lives looking up at the stars and casting lines, drawing constellations between them, but in reality, they're just as lonely as we are. Maybe even more."

prelude.

In his dreams, he has color for days, but that's because his memories are always colored with color. He remembers the colors of all the colors, he knows it, because colors fade in real life, colors can be rearranged. They stay the same in dreams. He remembers colors and faces in dreams, with absolute certainty.

He stands up and steps away from the glass, out onto the balcony. As the darkness reaches all the way to the bottom of the floor, he sees shadows in his mind. He recognizes the colors, the colors of dreams, as colors of real life. He can tell his memory is broken in his dreams, with such clarity that he could read an entire newspaper front page through color and dreams.

(He takes a step closer to the blue sky.)

i.

He remembers when he had first been able to see the constellations in the night sky, just a few short years ago, when his eyesight still had the capability to take in so much. They'd wanted to go to a star party, together, where he could be amazed by a whole world of constellations, but he'd turned it down.

"You were scared of strangers," she says. "It's not a strangers-only thing."

"That's true," he says.

"You're still shy," she says.

"I never was shy,” he says.

I never really grew up, he thinks.

ii.

He feels her warm breath. The scent of her.

"Do you think they look down at us and feel the loneliness of millions of years alone?"

"The stars? I've always imagined they might."

“Do you think they wonder about us, too? Or feel sorry for us?”

He scoffs.

“What’s there to wonder about?”

She shrugs. Her eyes look as distant as the stars. As cold.

"The sadness of losing one's entire species and the companionship of someone who sees and understands the beauty of the stars because of what we lost. Or the loneliness of knowing our species won't survive the disaster we caused."

“What do you mean,” he starts. Her lips curve up into a mockery of a smile.

“You know what,” she breathes. “Ares.”

(He wakes. Calls the dampness on his cheeks a nightmare’s cold sweat and not tears.)

iii.

He shrugs.

“We forget, don’t we? The world moves on. We move on.”

"That's not the way it is,” she says. “The best love in life comes from time spent with another person, the love that never fades or leaves you in darkness, like memories do. Sometimes, it's not the love we give each other but the love we receive from each other. I don't know, I guess the answer would depend on the person."

"Maybe the stars never forget their dreams,” she says. “Or the people they knew, or their color. Maybe they never lose the ability to recognize and remember what they're drawn to. Or maybe they can never forget the color of your eyes."

iii, ii.

“We forget, don’t we? The world moves on. We move on.”

(Do we? He thinks. Thinks they’ve been here, standing atop this balcony before. Thinks he's seen her eyes turn cold. Thinks he's seen her cry.)

He shrugs.

"No," she says quietly, but softly, still looking at the stars, still thinking about the comfort she gave him. (It's never enough, always, to fill the emptiness, the longing, the memories that must remain buried inside him.)

"I don't believe that. I know that the stars up there are as lonely as us, because they're like us, they love each other, they care for each other, they care for us, and love keeps us warm in the cold. Love is the one thing that can save us."

"You're right," he says. (Holds her close. Wishes he could do the same while awake.)

"Love really can save us. I have faith in that. No matter what happens, no matter what we do, we have to find ways to love each other and hold on to each other."

v.

"Do you remember the dreams you've had about the colors, or the faces of the people in the colors?"

She laughs softly. "I can never forget you, or your color, or the color of that sky in your memories, now. But that picture might look a little different in the morning light. Right now, I can't see it very well. You know, sometimes it's hard to remember what color the sky looks like in your memory when it's bright outside. It doesn't really feel like a real memory. You've said that yourself, at least."

"No, I haven't," he says. "It's just a memory."

"A memory?" she asks.

"A memory?" she repeats. “It’s always memories with you.”

He can't tell if she's laughing or not, or if she's teasing him or not.

“What do you mean?”

"It’s a secret,” she says. “You could always just ask me in real life.”

(I can’t, he thinks, but can’t say. Can't remember why.

He wakes.)

vi.

"Color?" she repeats. "Color?"

"Yes," he says. "You're color. You're always ... different, in my memories."

She laughs. "Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe we remember our lives as they were, not what we wish they were. Maybe that means we can forgive ourselves a little more.”

"For what?"

(She's frozen.

She fades.

For what? He thinks, then wakes.)

vii.

"I think I have colors for months in my memory," she says. "See here?"

"What?"

"Colors. In the moon, or this tree, or maybe the sky?"

"You mean right now?"

"No. All of them, at one time or another."

"What color is the sky?"

She laughs, and her voice is beautiful. She tells him that the sky looks the color of memories and dreams.

But then he asks another question. "When you dreamed last night, what did you dream about?”

"I can't remember all of them," she says. “My dreams. They fade.”

"But you do remember that you were dreaming, back there?"

"I was dreaming. About you."

"Why?"

"I don't know. All I know is that the dream felt like a good one."

"It must have been, if you remember it. Did you have the same dreams when you were growing up?"

"Yes," she whispers. "Sometimes."

(“Sometimes I think we must’ve met in one.”

“What?”

“A dream."

"That'd be nice, wouldn't it?")

viii.

“The stars,” she murmurs. “Do you think they dream? Do you think they can escape?"

"Perhaps they can, to some extent," se says. "I'm not sure it works for everyone."

She asks him to step into the blue sky with her. To escape. To return.

"Can you go back? I haven't asked anyone to go back yet, but maybe you can."

He takes a step, closing his eyes. He remembers the color of this blue sky, and he remembers dreaming and dreaming. He remembers colors, and colors are real, so they must be real in real life. So he steps forward into the blue sky.

His skin stretches and stretches and stretches, the colors in his skin growing more vivid as he steps further, he gets closer to the sky. The colors disappear in his memory, which can still contain dreams, so that his skin looks almost white, at first. His body elongates until he looks like he's wearing a strange version of a spacesuit, like the one his friends wore when they had to wear oxygen masks on the surface of planets and robots to stay alive.

He hears his echo. It’s saying that he looks lonely. Pale blue dot— he'll drift through space, he'll miss her in the dark, or he won't but he'll be too late, anyway.

It's hard to figure out which colors in the blue sky he's really seeing. He thinks the color of his skin looks like the sky he remembered, but maybe it isn't really the sky he remembers. He sees colors of the people he knew and the colors of the colors of the sky, but he sees colors that are impossible to connect with other colors.

(He surfaces to darkness, insides twisting, writhing, turned snakes by the venom he's made of his blood. He staggers to the sink, spits up poison. Thinks about forgetting. Thinks about taking more.)

ix.

His color is yellow, the color of a sick leaf, and the first of the colors of his dreams.

"Tell me again what color I look like in your memory," she says.

He tries to focus on that part of her, of her memory, where he actually sees her. He thinks about how good her skin looks, how smooth and pale and slightly glowing. He can't remember her color.

"Do I look just like you remember?" he asks.

"Your color is the color of yellow of the leaves, right?"

"Yes," he whispers.

“You’re sick,” she says, and places a hand on his cold cheek, lets it warm.

“Sick,” he echoes, closes his eyes against her touch. Lets himself fade. Lets himself rest. “Perhaps.”

x.

"I don't remember it," he admits. "Your color."

"But you don't want me to, do you?"

She sighs, and for a moment, it seems she's crying. "No," she whispers. "No, not all."

"You didn't want me to know, did you?"

"Yes, I did. I do."

She bites her lip. Looks down. Looks away.

"I want you to remember. Just— not like this. Never like this."

"Why?"

"Because you'd see the way I laugh and the way I'm breathing, and if you just heard it for yourself, you'd know the way I loved your hair when you woke up from the dream that you shared with me. The way you looked when you talked about your life, when you stared up at the sky, seeing the dreams in your eyes."

(He had forgotten them already, because they were beautiful, those memories, and he knew them without remembering their color. Without remembering her name. Without remembering the truth.

The sky, he thinks, is even more vivid than memories.)

xi.

"I don't know," he says. "Why don't I remember? What am I forgetting?"

"I don't know either," she says. "I think...I must've forgotten, too."

"But maybe it doesn't matter— we do remember colors, don't we? As colors really are. Because we can remember them. You know, that's why color blindness must be one of the most terrible things that's ever been born. For a color-blind person, they see the colors of people and things by the color of their eyes, and they can't tell when the color is off. Just like colors are difficult to remember, and colors are difficult to see."

He smiles at her.

"There's one more way, isn't there?"

“To see color?”

“To remember,” he whispers, and lowers his lips to hers. She flinches under him, he steadies her, then she’s limp, his hands tight around her neck and he—

(He wakes.)

xii.

"Why are you here again?" she asks.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t know.”

"We might be in the middle of remembering," she says. "We're both always in the middle of remembering things in the middle of moments."

"Oh, you're an astrologist, then," he mutters, trying to remember the word. It doesn’t sound right. Nothing does.

"Astronomer?" He asks. She shakes her head. She's smiling, but her eyes are dark. Dark and blue.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," she says. "We should probably stop."

"Stop?"

She smiles again, her eyes bluer still.

No, he realizes. Not blue. Sad.

"It's time to wake up," she murmurs. He reaches for her, but it's too late. She fades, and he's left alone drifting under the stretching stars.

(Astronaut, he thinks, between planets and stardust. He remembers.)

...

fin.

"Are you saying I'm color-blind?"

She laughs again.

"Oh, no," she says. "Not color-blind at all. Your color blindness is just a side effect of your memory. You remember some colors well, and it doesn't matter what color the sky or a flower is, you can recognize it. So, yes. Your color blindness is your memory of colors."

"How is it my memory?" he asks, and though he could never be color-blind, he can still remember colors well enough to recognize the colors of the rainbow on the horizon as clouds drift by the sky.

"Maybe your color blindness is what happens when you spend so much time remembering color and color and color," she suggests, and somehow some part of him knows what she means is remembering me. Remembering my smile.

"Oh," he says. He considers it.

They are silent, for a time, until a sound cuts through the night air, crying through his whole body with a low swish of noise. He thinks he hears a whistling, and then it's back again. Then it's different, maybe growing louder, and he wonders if it's a ringing, but the sound gets fainter, so faint that he begins to think he imagined it.

"Is that the whistle?" she asks, and he can hear the alarm in her voice.

"Did it start again? Is this world going to end?" She whispers it, the sound again, and the sound grows closer, an elongated screech. The whistle never ceases.

The whistling sounds in every direction, like a swarm of insects.

And the smell is the worst, the most awful smell, like bad meat, or a stagnant ditch full of mud and dirt and rotten meat. He can barely breathe, and can barely see through the curtain of fog. He stands, reaching toward her, trying to hear her, but everything around him is changing.

"What is it?" she asks, and her voice is lost, lost in the darkness. She is lost. She is gone.

The smell, a putrid odor like rotten meat, begins to affect his mind, and he cannot remember her words.

There's something blue (sad) behind his eyelids. He tries to look and discovers that he can't.

"What's that?" he asks. He's in the clearing, still dressed in the dark color of morning (mourning), and everything is out of place, though he can't see it.

"It's my color. It's blue." He stares at it.

"My favorite color. Blue. And there's something pink around it. Couldn't see that before. It's pink."

The colors, he thinks. Those are colors. The whistling sound, I must have heard that noise before.

(The whistling doesn't sound like whistling at all. It sounds like heartbreak. It sounds like a scream.)

That's why I can't remember her. I remember colors, and it's like there's a wall in my mind, because I remember color, color and nothing else, color and her smile, the beginning, the middle, and not ever the end.

"I remember colors," he says. "Now let me remember her."

And he remembers pink, he remembers the smell. The whistle (the scream).

(Remembers she died. Remembers he wasn't there to save her.)

There's something red on the sand. It's a bouquet of roses he's picked. Pink and red. Roses. The smell, his nose draws in is the scent of roses.

(He knows they smell like her, but the moment's passed. Once again, he can't remember her.

He thinks, he must not have been hers. She must have not been in love.)

epilogue.

It is dawn when he wants to close his eyes and remember. But he tries not to think about it. He closes his eyes slowly, praying silently to the skies, barely able to imagine that the next time he opens his eyes, maybe they'll be different.

"... like his dreams," he whispers under his breath.

"... and her dreams."

"... like everything here." His steps seem slow today. Steady. Better than any other morning. Fresh.

"Just like his memories. Rest easy, Lucien."

(When the apartment door opens, it’s Ares who emerges.)

this is where im legally obligated to tell u I'm slowly being converted to a comp neuro nerd so i went and read the github of the language learning model inferkit uses, megatron-11b, and it'S hella cool but basically if anyone is worried. no it is not trained on the words u provide it-- the sentence structure/word information that the model 'learns' from is scripts made by the dev. so uh. basically, it's 'learned' all it will about language based on these provided scripts of vocab and sentence structure so when you give it a paragraph of writing, all it's doing is 'reacting' to your words by using its memory of these writing rules to predict (and auto-generate) what words it thinks will come next (the algorithm runs a tON of probability computations and this is the 'thinking' and predicting.)

[bts-ficrecs]

Any jungkook angst with no smut? Thank you!

yes hello. ‘tis me. Finally responding to you after 31498237 months.

i rarely read full on ANGST because my weak heart cannot take it, ok. So i don’t have a lot to share and most of the fics i read are pretty short. i don’t think any of what i read are series bc omg can u imagine a full on series with NO HAPPINESS!! I WOULD D WORD!!!!!!!1 sjadflakwe but i’ve included some angsty series in the 2nd half of this compilation!

as requested, no smut. i’m sorry if i missed something and it does have smut 🙏 also this ask made me realize how many angsty fics DO have smut involved, lololol we’re all a bunch of emo hornies and tbh,,, i’m not even gonna deny that 😂 ok ok i’ll stop rambling now.

* m/n: mai notes can also be read as “my notes”. ha ha ha wow i’m so punny.

HAVE READ:

⊱ ┄ A Fallen Bookmark on A Thursday Afternoon by @cutaepatootie

 summary: He came to you like the air comes into the train station after the fast arriving of the machine. It comes fast and unexpected, making you hoist your head to look at the long vehicle and the people inside. It is so fast you can’t even distinguish the different wagons. As the train comes to a stop, the wind that it creates plays with your hair, leaving you breathless. That’s how Jeon Jungkook came into your life.

 

⊱ ┄ A Mark of Betrayal by @jimlingss

 summary: Forgotten as the eighth deadly sin; each time one betrays, a mark will be signed on their skin…

 

⊱ ┄ A Piece of the Moonlight by @jimlingss

 summary: For your loved ones, the people who are waiting at home, the people who have died - you will fight. And sometimes to fight means to sacrifice: who you really are and the person you really love.

 

⊱ ┄ Blue Orchids by @inktae​

 summary: You were eighteen years old when Jimin’s name showed up on your hand.

 m/n: this is like… one of THE og bts fics and i will always promote it bc IT DESERVES TO BE READ BY EVERYONE

 

⊱ ┄ Delirium by @sseudanym

 summary: What to feel, when it’s all gone.

 

⊱ ┄ Give Me Your Hands (I Will Pick the Stars for You) by mindheist (AO3)

 summary: I miss you like the moon misses the sun, destined to chase you until the end of time.

 m/n: this is the only mxm fic here. it’s jungkook x taehyung :) i hope it won’t deter you from reading it though! it’s an absolutely beautiful story.

 

⊱ ┄ In My Head by obiwrites (AO3)

 summary: The one where you and your long time boyfriend aren’t on the same page

 

⊱ ┄ It’s Enough by @dark-muse-iris

 summary: Preparing dinner reminds you of all the struggles you’ve experienced in your marriage. Your husband Jungkook, ever your anchor, tries to cheer you up with gentle words.

 

⊱ ┄ Mamihlapinatapai by @tayegi

 summary: Mamihlapinatapai (noun): a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something that they both desire but which neither wants to begin.

 

⊱ ┄ My Beauty, My Blood by @7cypher

 summary: With Namjoon out of the picture, Jeongguk has to step up and be the sole successor to the organization laid out before him. However, guilt doesn’t escape him very easily, and neither does your persistence.

  

 ⊱ ┄ Resentment by obiwrites (AO3)

 summary: It was an ugly kind of sad. The kind that kept you up at night, that weighed heavy in your chest and made you feel like you couldn’t breathe, it made you feel like molasses—made your limbs drag and your body ache. You’d heard of the physical effects of depression—but you weren’t expecting this.

 

⊱ ┄ The Train of Lost Souls by @inktae

 summary: The moment you step inside the train, you are given two options. You can choose to live or you can choose to move on. You are dead, but it’s up to you to do something about it. The choice is solely yours.

 m/n: ok so this is technically a Hoseok fic since the reader is interacting with Hoseok, but Jungkook is a part of this fic and IT HURTS ME SO MUCH SO I HAD TO INCLUDE THIS OK

 

⊱ ┄ The Swirling Ways of Stars by @inktae

 summary: Jeon Jungkook doesn’t feel like home.

 

⊱ ┄ Untitled by @floralseokjin

 summary: He noticed you almost instantly. Like the wind blowing autumn leaves past his heels, he felt you near him. His body an instant constant buzzing as he stood inside the kitchen, back against the counter where he watched you outside. The separation of the living area and the balcony window feeling miles away regardless of how close he was to you…how close you were to him…

 

⊱ ┄ We Were by @gukyi

 summary: Not all once upon a time’s have happily ever after’s.

 

⊱ ┄ Water Ripples by @inktae

 summary: It may be a mistake caused by unreachable forces, but it is not a curse, like some may think. Meeting each other, being able to touch each other but being forbidden to stay close beyond the limits of the sea could be considered torture — where is the pleasure in getting a taste of something you cannot have, an ephemeral spark in the night? in getting wings that can’t make you soar, no matter how many times they flutter?

 m/n: i made the mistake of rereading this when i was compiling this list and yes i am crying again. hooo booyyy.

 

 

HAVE NOT READ YET:

⊱ ┄ Below Thunder Showers by @inktae

 summary: Min Yoongi leads Earth with a stern hand and a pair of cold eyes. You lead a withered space station that’s been losing hope for years, mind tired and heart torn. Jeon Jungkook is no more than a broken soldier who’s slowly losing his humanity, but his longing for the rain keeps him tied to the ground. Three paths converge again when the two worlds clash, and as precarious as they were, it does not stop you from falling in love for a second time.

 

⊱ ┄ Blossom by @dimpled-gukkie

 summary: “Blossom, blossom, blossom. As unexperienced as I may be in the field you really didn’t think I’d only bring one weapon did you? It’s no wonder your gang has gone to shit ever since your dad died, it’s clear that you’re incompetent as well as incapable of being a good leader.” He laughs, raising the gun to point at you. You raise your own and he just smiles again before setting his weapon down. “You know what, how about we do this the old fashion way? I heard guns weren’t your specialty anyways.” Shrugging off his coat you spot the long dagger tucked into his waistband. “Cmon sweetheart, show me just how dangerous you are.”

 

⊱ ┄ Contradict by @drowsymochi

 summary: Jungkook is a name you hear often around the crowded city of Seoul, South Korea. Jungkook is the leader of Bangtan, a gang that has acquired a worldwide audience. The gang is stationed in Seoul, creating a feeling of uneasiness on the streets. Everyone in the city has been acquainted with one of the members at some time, being that they’re always around. For the most part, they don’t harm innocent civilians unless they commit a crime that the members find worthy of punishment. That penalty can range from bankruptcy, to torture and eventually death, which makes the city wary of their words and surroundings. If only you had been as terrified as everyone else.

 

⊱ ┄ Downfall by @donewithjeon

 summary: Your hesitation cost you dearly, and you swore never to let it happen again.

 

⊱ ┄ Drown For You by @callistojjk

 summary: There was something in that enormous tank, hidden in the murky water. All you knew was that you weren’t allowed inside the room and that it used to hold something dangerous.

 

⊱ ┄ Drag Me Down to Hell by @kimvtae

 summary: There’s a darkness to your city, a murderous underbelly filled with crime and deceit that you’ve sworn to avoid at all costs. But the universe has funny ways of forcing your involvement in the form of a notorious mob boss and his young daughter.

 

⊱ ┄ Expensive Mistakes by @honeyedhoseok

 summary: Your night spent swindling at the pool table goes left when your lackluster skills are found to be false, so it’s a good thing Jungkook has some supernatural abilities to keep D and his friends from recollecting their money–but his help comes at a price.

 

⊱ ┄ Fierce And Delicate by @mintseesaw

 summary: Jungkook and y/n had been brought in two different worlds. Jungkook living an unfortunate life and y/n being controlled by her parents all her life. Despite the imperfect relationship, they completed each other like a puzzle there is. Jungkook has one promise he intends to keep: to always make you happy. In the process of fulfilling your wish he had once declined you of, he kept a secret from you. And unintentionally, he has done more damages than expected…Every action, and every decision… could be blamed by the flawed past.

 

⊱ ┄ Fallout Technical Report by @pantaemonium

 summary: You knew you should not go into the darkness of night, even if your hope had run thin. The monsters were free to walk the earth, and some of them were still as human as you.

 

⊱ ┄ Fear in Your Eyes by @gukyi

 summary: There’s a werewolf in that forest behind your house, they told you, and he’ll eat you before you can even beg for mercy. 

 

⊱ ┄ First Light by @inktae

 summary: “Have you ever felt like the world is too loud sometimes?” “No. For me it’s always quiet.”

 

⊱ ┄ Finding Beauty in Your Darkest Places by @jungtaeyoongles

 summary: Everyone has their issues, and everyone deals with them differently. Jungkook thinks that avoiding his problems is the best option out there. AKA Jeon Jungkook is the newest patient at the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Clinic, and he just wants to get in and out as quickly as possible so that he can go back to university and be with his friends again. Of course, that doesn’t work out according to his plan.

 

⊱ ┄ Gravity by @donewithjeon

 summary: The universe works in mysterious ways. What you didn’t know was that the world would give you the best at such a young age.

  

⊱ ┄ I Got You On My Mind by @bangtanbombimagines

 summary: In a world where soulmates can share thoughts, you never imagined that the sweet voice in your head would belong to a guy like Jungkook.

 

⊱ ┄ Lost Boy by @hoshikimatata

 summary: You are the only girl Jungkook keeps coming back to, and you thought that made you the one to save him. But in the end, he’s the only one who can save himself.

 

⊱ ┄ Let Me Stay Close To You by @9uk

 summary: You were finally free from the worst nightmare of your life in high school. The doors of college welcomed you with open arms, you were set on living your best life in here, away from the toxicity back at home. That shimmer of hope in restoring your life, was somehow effortlessly crushed by a tap on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

  

⊱ ┄ Left Behind by @bbfairy

 summary: Every person is required to go through a series of tests to see if they’re smart enough to be a part of the upper, elite district. You and Jungkook are childhood friends. Jungkook’s dream is to live with you in the elite class, but deep down, you’ve always known that you’ll fail the exams. For ten years, you wrote letters to give him on the day of his expected departure.

 

⊱ ┄ Lie to Me by @hugseoks

 summary: It had seemed so easy for you to move on, did you even care at all?

 

⊱ ┄ Pull Me Down by @starryeyedgukk

 summary: “Do you regret it?” “What?” “Falling in love with me? It feels like I only weigh you down.” “I’ll let you pull me down to the depths of hell if that’s what it means to love you.”

 

⊱ ┄ Rooftop by @thelillzmonster

 summary: An unrequited love burdens your fragile heart. And when an unfamiliar, isolated boy is thrown into the mix, you’re not sure whether it all turns for the better or worse.

 

⊱ ┄ The Burning Flame by @bangtanfanfiction

 summary: You’re sent as a scout from the Academy into enemy territory, tasked with the mission to make sure their king doesn’t unleash another war on the four nations. During your quest, you get tangled up with a lone rider, as stubborn and hard as the scales of his dragon. 

  

⊱ ┄ The Black Veil by @jungcock

 summary: You never wanted to be a vampire, yet you had been 21 years old for the last 2 centuries. You never wanted a relationship either, yet you incidentally make a very human Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you, twice.

 

⊱ ┄ Waste It On Me by @byeoltoyuki

 summary: Being a journalist, you were familiar with the concept of taking risks and pushing your limits to get the best story. But when a gangster by the name of Jungkook tries to involve himself in your quiet, safe personal life, you are forced to reconsider the limits of your comfort zone, your boundaries, your morals and even your feelings.

 

⊱ ┄ Why I Hate You by @floofyeol

 summary: Jeon Jungkook’s only regret, is knowing her in the first place.

 

⊱ ┄ Watchdog by @kpopisthereasonihavenolife

 summary: Being kidnapped, then ‘accidentally’ eavesdropping on a lot of Intel that was specifically not for outside ears, was definitely not your way of being ‘recruited’ into the mafia world.  Much less end up with a companion who didn’t seem very fond of you, but stuck guarding and watching you.  A Watchdog sort of man he was, and almost entirely too suffocating.

 

⊱ ┄ Written on the Sky by @inktae

 summary: Time is, without a doubt, merciless.

 

⊱ ┄ What Happened by @bangtanfanfiction

 summary: You and Jungkook’s relationship was on the tip of the edge. Is there any possibility to get it back up?

[antihero-writings]

The Fall and the Fury

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Fic Summary: Hiccup knew it was better to send the dragons away...but he may never fully recover from losing Toothless. The nights come with a fury unlike anything he knew before.

Notes: 

This fic actually has a story behind it, but it’s long and kinda spoils what happens in the fic, so check my reblog for that!!

I’d absolutely love to write more for this franchise, though, so if you’ve got any prompts, send ‘em over!! I just don’t know what to write on my own XD

Also * A group of dragons is called a "thunder." (Just learned that, and I love it XD)

I’d really really appreciate if you could leave a comment!!! They really do make my week, and motivate me to keep writing!!

The Fall and the Fury

“There were dragons, when I was a boy.” Hiccup tells his children dramatically.

“There were great, grim, sky dragons that nested on the cliff-tops like gigantic, scary birds.” He stands up holding his arm up high. “Little brown, scuttly dragons”—he scuttled his fingers along their legs, making them laugh—“that hunted down the mice and rats in well-organized packs.”—He mimicked a dragon chomping down on a mouse, by tickling their stomachs—“Preposterously huge sea dragons that were twenty times as big as the big blue whale.” He held his hands far apart.

“Did you have a dragon, daddy?” Nuffink asks softly.

He grins at the question. “Yes, I did.”—And behind the words is a joy unlike anything they’ve seen in their father before before—“He was the rarest of all. He was a Night Fury.” As the words rang, the wind seemed a little louder outside. “I called him—”

******

Everything is blue; deep and navy, almost black; the sky, dotted with sparks, the waves below bouncing moonlight back up to them.

The wind plays with his hair, and it seems the man in the moon is laughing. Hiccup lays on the dragon’s back, breathing out, staring up at the stars, and for a moment he is…perfectly happy.

But that’s the thing about moments, about happiness.

His breath is snatched from somewhere deep in his gut.

The fall. Abrupt, and unending. Navy and white flashing by, and the dizziness is not from the spinning, but the fact that somehow, his best friend isn’t there to catch him.

And as his dragon shrieks, looking, panicked, down at him, trying to catch up to him and, for once, failing… the two getting further and further away, until the dragon is but a black speck in the distance…it feels like Hiccup’s very heart is what’s being pulled from him. The strings between them unraveling, and they’ll surely sever.

And somehow he knows he’ll never see him again.

When he wakes up it is in a sweat that is somehow cold, and that breath that he couldn’t find seconds ago is back with a fervor. And for a brief second he… wishes it wasn’t. That he wasn’t breathing, wasn’t here, wasn’t now.

“You have the heart of a chief, and the soul of a dragon.”

That’s what his mother told him. One day. So long ago now.

There were dragons when he was a boy, but dragons…they’re not around anymore.

What is he now? The last of the dragons, left alone in this winter, unable to breathe the fire that will keep the cold at bay. It’s so very cold within this skin.

He wishes he could be there, with him.

He thought he was human. Once. Bred to kill dragons, when all this started, so long ago; on that night, when he shot down the most prized dragon of them all. That boy, all scrawny and weak, shaking as he held that knife, thought he was a killer. The thought is laughable now.

Though perhaps it is less laughable than the truth.

He thought he was human. He was wrong.

Maybe that’s what brought them together, what saved them both—(and perhaps it was what became their downfall too? Just how much he loved them, loved him—too much…)

He never thought their adventures would end. He didn’t think Neverland would come crashing down. …He was so young then.

Their lives were built around dragons. Killing them, then caring for them, befriending them, riding them. Without them their foundation cracked, their lives came crashing down. And he’s left here alone with a dragon’s soul, crying out for for his lost species. His thunder* left him here alone. The last of his kind.

And he wishes with everything inside him, that he could be human, for just one single day. Because it isn’t worth the way his soul burns.

“Sometimes I think I can hear him,” he says to his children, with a far-off look in his eye—which he casts out the window and into the night, hoping he’ll reel something in—telling them fairytales and ghost stories in tandem before bed. He hopes they don’t hear the pain lurking behind those words, the desperate longing fused to his irises.

He wants to introduce them to the dragons more than anything. He wanted them to grow up befriending the stars, and unafraid of the fall, too. This is perhaps the greatest tragedy of all; not what he lost, but what they never had.

Sometimes he thinks he can hear that fire and lightning, building power, violet in his throat, until it explodes. Sometimes he thinks he can hear that in the middle of the night.

Once it was such a terrifying sound; the sound of their doom, of houses exploding, of men and woman running for their lives, because this one wouldn’t come for the sheep…it would just shoot its blasts, and knock their world down, and glide away with the wind. Like the wrath of the gods. The fury of the night.

That sound became so comforting it makes his chest hurt to think of now. That longing becoming daggers through him.

So each time he hears it, he shoots up in bed, calling his name, only to find that it’s nothing. Just a figment of his yearning imagination.

Of course it’s nothing.

Sometimes he thinks he can feel it too—feel that fire burning in his own throat.

Until he realizes that’s just his own voice, burning out from screaming so long. And that his breath can create no more fire than words.

And make no mistake, words can be more flammable than a spark in a dry forest.

Sometimes he thinks he can feel him underneath him. His wings around him. Wind and fire and awestruck power. Chasing the daylight.

And everything is perfectly alright.

Until he falls. And falls, and falls. He falls a long time—and surely he will catch me, he always does… before he realizes…he’s not there. So he wakes up, trying to ignore the sting in his eyes, the tracks that have surely stained his cheeks after so many of these nights.

That’s how all his dreams end now: falling.

He never feared that before. With the dragon by your side, there isn’t much to fear. Falling was once exhilarating—at least it is when you know you have someone to catch you. Now he knows what it is to really fall.

And he wishes the dragon was still right there in front of him, to comfort him, nudge him out of his sadness. Make him laugh, no matter how sad he is. Wishes he would wake up to see him laying on that rock he would light up with his breath so it would be warm. Wish upon the stars that can’t surround him anymore. To say it was all a nightmare and they never left.

Is this what growing up is? Is childhood but a dream, to be so harshly severed by the sunrise?

Then he looks down at his leg, like he did the first day they made a difference. The part of himself that’s gone. And it reminds him of too much. Of how they broke each other—(after all, they were supposed to be enemies)—and fixed each other all the same—(but they knew they didn’t have to be).

But he can’t fashion the missing piece of himself out of metal and good intentions this time.

(Now he’d sacrifice the rest of his limbs, if only he could get back his wings.)

Some nights it’s too much to bear, and as the memories tear him up from the inside out, he holds tight to the empty sheets, and finally whispers aloud, to the tempo of hollow heartbeats, and the name he gave him;

“Toothless….Toothless…Toothless…”

[iron--spider]

you’re still peter parker

A small, moment in time after ‘ever in your favor’ ends. Not a true sequel, but could be included in one in the future. I just had to step back in, just for a moment.

~

Peter’s panic attacks are full body. It’s like he’s trapped, something squeezing him, sucking his blood, holding him down and cutting off his air. They come when he least expects them, when he most expects them, when he doesn’t expect them at all. They come when he thinks too much. They come when there are no thoughts in his head, when he’s holding MJ’s hand, when he’s planning with Tony, when he’s looking around and remembering who he is and what he went through. They live inside him. They bleed him dry.

 It’s been six months since he escaped the arena, and he can’t even count how many panic attacks he’s had since everything. Since Tony woke up. Since the bombing. Since that new Iron Man suit shuddered to life. Since the Avengers became an official, documented thing. Signed and sealed, on Fury’s desk. 

The propos are almost a daily thing, and it’s strange, to think of how much the Districts have seen of him. Strange, to know that his face is on wanted posters in the Capitol, images they once used to advertise his presence in the Games. His voice has spawned war chants. People have created Spider-Man masks, and they wear them as they rush into the fire, ready to sacrifice themselves for the greater good.

 He keeps doing it, but it terrifies him. It feels like he’s killing these people. Like he’s still in the Games, fighting for his life. 

 District Thirteen has enclaves in the walls that remind Peter of Scott with their smallness—they’re dripping and dank and dark, large pipes that carry the water back and forth to all of Thirteen’s citizens. It’s hard to get in and out, and they don’t encourage it. But they haven’t stopped him yet.

 His panic attacks are like starvation. Every bit of him shaking, and he steps over the big pipe in the middle of the space, nearly tripping and faceplanting into the wall. He braces his hand there instead, and he slides down, drawing his knees up to his chest. He hugs them close, and squeezes his eyes shut tight. He can’t stop trembling. 

 He doesn’t feel like a superhero, no matter how many times people call him that. He wonders, sometimes, if he’s still there. In the arena. He wonders if this is all a dream. If he’s still dying, in pain and alone. 

 “No, no,” he whispers. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

 He sees spiders in the darkness. He hears his own voice, screaming. What Twelve looked like, smoldering. He didn’t look at the bodies. He didn’t look, but he could still see, he could still imagine. They’re tattooed on the backs of his eyes. So is Scott’s face. Death itself has its hands on Peter’s shoulders. Its nails in his skin. Tony always tries to tell him that none of it is his fault, and sometimes, Peter believes him. Sometimes he knows it’s true, that he’s just a kid that loved his friend, someone caught up in all this. Other times, the blame is so heavy that he collapses under the weight of it.

 Some days are better than others. Some days, he feels like Spider-Man. Other days, he feels like this.

 “You’re Peter Parker,” he whispers, rocking back and forth. “You’re Spider-Man. You’ve been on one—one big mission and two—small raids since—since you got here. You’re in—here is Thirteen. You live in Thirteen now. You’re from District Twelve. There’s no more District Twelve.”

 He doesn’t know why he said that last part. It doesn’t help. It sends chills down his arms and he shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip until it bleeds. 

 May is on her shift for another three hours. MJ and Ned are in class. Peter should be in the workshop with Tony. So that means that Tony will probably come looking for him, like he always does. That’s something else Peter doesn’t feel like he deserves. Those lost souls in Twelve—he knows all of them would have given anything to have Tony Stark care about them as much as he cares about Peter. 

 As if on cue, the hatch door squeals open. 

 “Kid?” Tony calls, his voice echoing. “You down there again?”

 Peter wants to call out, wants to answer him, but his voice is lost in his throat, lost in the grips of his panic. His eyes are still shut, and it’s almost like he can’t open them. He’s dizzy and he realizes he’s holding his breath, and he lets it out, a few tears racing down his cheeks. He gets cold down here. He doesn’t know why he comes. It feels like the only place where he’s truly alone, even though that isn’t really what he wants. He doesn’t know what he wants.

 “Bud, I’m coming,” Tony says, and Peter can hear him starting down the ladder. Peter wonders if he’ll be able to see where his super strength warped the bars. If he does, he doesn’t say anything. “Hey—I’m right here. Okay? I’m coming.”

 Peter breathes hard through his mouth, and he can hear Tony’s footsteps, can hear him stepping over the pipe just like Peter did. Then Peter feels him settle next to him, can feel him wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He tugs him closer, and even with his eyes closed, Peter can see the glow of Tony’s arc reactor. It’s always so bright no matter what he’s wearing, so much so that it bothers Tony sometimes. But it’s strangely comforting to Peter. A reminder he’s alive.

 “We’re okay,” Tony whispers, gently ruffling Peter’s hair with his free hand. “Yeah?”

 Peter still can’t find words.

 “Like I told you before, this is completely normal,” Tony says. “So don’t beat yourself up. This was me like, every five minutes after my Games. And half the time, still, as you well know. So it’s okay. It’s okay, just breathe. We’re good. We’re all good. We’re here, we’re fine, it’s fine.”

 Peter leans into him, trying to breathe normally again.

 “You don’t have to go on the next one,” Tony says. “For real. You don’t. You don’t owe anybody anything. And it’s just small, we’re heading to Six with supplies. We don’t even need the full team.”

 “I want to,” Peter croaks. “It’s not—it’s not that.” And that’s what sucks the most. He doesn’t know what it is, why he gets like this. He doesn’t know. It’s everything. It’s nothing. It’s all of it and none of it all at the same time. Every step he takes feels like a mistake. 

 “Okay,” Tony whispers, rubbing his shoulder. “No, I get it.”

 Peter looks up at him, and sees that he’s got a few smoky places on his face, like there might have been a couple more mini explosions in the lab. Peter tries not to hiccup, and he shakes his head. “Do you get it?” he asks. “Because I don’t.”

 “I get not getting it,” Tony says. “There’s way too much to sort through with all the bullshit they’ve heaped on us—especially us, the ones who had to deal with all of it. Being a tribute. Their insane social media death march. The Games themselves. And now this. After.”

 “After,” Peter repeats.

 “We want a certain thing out of it, but we should have known the Capitol wouldn’t go down easy,” Tony says, shrugging a little bit, squeezing Peter’s shoulder. “But we are gonna get there. We are. There’s gonna be a normal after all this. A real world, without their rules. Without more war.”

 Peter shakes, leaning his head on Tony’s shoulder. “I was just—walking on the third level. Nothing happened. I’d just dropped MJ off at class, and I—I was gonna come find you and I just—it was like—it was like—”

 “Like someone flipped a switch,” Tony says. “Sometimes the memories feel like they’re real, like they’re as big as you, pinning you down.”

 Peter squeezes his eyes shut tight and opens them again. He nods. “Yeah. Exactly that. I see spiders when I close my eyes. I know it’s been six months and I haven’t actually seen a real one yet, but if I see one—I don’t know. I don’t know. I can just say everybody’s gonna lose faith in me real quick.”

 Tony shakes his head. “Nobody’s gonna lose faith in you,” he says. “Literally impossible. Even if this goddamn cave is your hiding spot of choice.” He doesn’t say it with any heat or anger, and he tugs Peter closer.

 Peter blows out a breath. “It just—I don’t know why I come here. It kinda reminds me of Twelve, a little bit. Weirdly. Like the entrance to the mines, where I’d always meet Ben when he got off work, where I’d hand off his lunch. They never really liked me going in there that far but I—I always wanted to meet him as soon as he came up.”

 Tony rubs his arm up and down. “So you do know why you come here,” he says. 

 Peter’s brows furrow, but it feels like clarity. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess.”

 “Think of how proud he is,” Tony says. “Astronomical. That’s probably why the stars have been so bright every time we’ve gotten to go out.”

 That makes Peter feel a little warmer, and he can’t help but smile at the idea of Ben’s pride lighting up the sky.

 “You don’t have to worry about anyone losing faith in you, because they never will, no matter what you do,” Tony says. “You’re the face of this. They’re all finding their strength in you and what you did and what you continue to do, just by speaking to them. They know you’re human too. They know that you wear your heart on your sleeve and they love you more for it. You’re fighting and it hurts you, but you’re fighting.”

 Peter chews on his lower lip again, tears tracking down his face.

 “And when you feel like this, you’ve got us,” Tony says. “May, who loves you to the damn moon and back. Ned, who’d give anything for you, MJ who literally wants to marry you—”

 Peter snorts, covering his face with his hand. His heart gives a little flip like it does whenever he so much as thinks about her.

 “—the whole team, Sam, that moron Hammer, everybody in Thirteen, all the rebels in the Districts, and, like, me. I know that last one doesn’t make much difference—”

 Peter scoffs, looking up at him. “All the difference,” he says, sniffling. “You’re the best, you’re the absolute best—”

 Tony reaches out and swipes one of Peter’s tears away. “I’m a wreck, kid, but you knew that—”

 “You’re a wreck, I’m a wreck,” Peter says. “You being a wreck makes me feel like me being a wreck is okay. Because you’re...you’re still you. You’re still Tony Stark.”

 Tony grins at him. “And you’re still Peter Parker. Always will be.”

 It really helps, to hear him say it. The panic is shrinking back now, shriveling up inside him, and he sucks in a few breaths, his head clearing up. 

 “You’re safe,” Tony says, pressing a quick kiss to Peter’s temple. “You’re here. You’re not there anymore. And guess what, I made cornbread and it’s actually good this time, thank you very much, and it’s ready in our workshop right alongside the plans for the scarlet spider suit. I figured out that new shortcut up there, only handprint guys get to use it—”

 Peter nods at him. “Yeah,” he says. “Just...a couple more minutes, and I’ll...I’ll be able to go.”

 “Alright, Pete,” Tony says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready.”

 Peter stares at him for a second. “You’re gonna...wait for me?” he asks.

 Tony narrows his eyes at him. “Course I am,” he says. “What’s more important, huh? Actually, don’t answer that. None of it is more important than you and I don’t even wanna hear you try and make the argument.”

 Peter keeps staring at him. He still can’t believe it. Even now, after what feels like a whole lifetime since they first met on that train. For the second first time.

 “For now, I’ll regale you with the tale of how I nearly blew myself up about ten minutes ago,” Tony says. 

 “Again?” Peter laughs, trying not to burst into tears.

 Tony nods solemnly. “Again.” He starts his story, and Peter leans his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes.

 He’s Peter Parker, from District Twelve. He’s alive. And he’s got a father again.

[shesthewindandsea]

if the lord dont forgive me, i’d still have my baby (and my babe would have me)

Summary: It's snowing tonight in Soho. The air is frigid and the ground is wet. Inside a bookshop, there's a demon experiencing the greatest crisis in known human history, but the angel sitting with him thinks he may be able to help.

Beginning Notes: So I’m starting to pick up on a pattern. Seems like whenever I wanna write something this bastard is always at the center of everything and really, what am I gonna do about that? Plug him apparently. @ineffablefool Go read this idiot’s stuff, it’s kind of good I guess I’m totally joking it’s all fantastic but yall should know that by now if you’re here. And!! @scribblemakes go look at all his art right now!!! It’s absolutely fantastic and beautiful and honestly freckled Crowley is one of my favorite things in the world which is why that’s basically what half this fic is about. The other half is just Aziraphale being chubby and getting kisses everywhere. This is literally the softest thing I have ever and will ever write in my entire existence. I have nowhere to go but down. 

Oh and the title is from a Hozier song, yeah we’re all really surprised I know. The song is called Work Song and I recommend you listen to this version just because it’s fantastic

-

Outside the doors of the bookshop, the evening air is still and quiet. Snow is falling silently from the clouds passing slowly in front of the moon. It’s quite a spectacle to all the children watching from their bedroom windows, eyelids heavy and blankets tucked up to their chins. All eyes, though laden with sleep, are ashine with a kind of innocent joy that can only come from a child. They’ll fall asleep thinking about a day off from school spent making snow angels and throwing snowballs and causing a general ruckus as they run in-between strangers on the sidewalk. They’ll certainly be disappointed when the morning comes and the world outside is barren of any snow, the lingering warmth in the stonework from the overcast sun that afternoon melting the snow once it touched the ground. Tears will, no doubt, be shed over the lack of highly anticipated snowman building material. This is, quite possibly, the biggest upset in known human history.

Inside the bookshop, however, a much different story is being told. The cold winter air pushes up from the floorboards, through the gap in the front doors, through the crack in a window frame. Even with the sharp cut of the frigid air filtering into the close quarters of the backroom, it didn’t have the chance to make the room any colder than Aziraphale willed it to be. The space heater glowing with a warm orange light in the corner may have also helped the process along and replaced the silence with a gentle hum and the occasional sputter.* 

*Aziraphale had initially started out with an ornate fireplace at the back of the room. He was rather proud of his craftsmanship and was excited to show off his recent update to Crowley once he arrived. That was, until his demon burst through the door with a slam and in a deranged panic, raving about the pungent smell of smoke and wallpaper burning, tears streaming down his cheeks and I couldn’t find you. Aziraphale wasn’t particularly attached to the fireplace, anyhow. A space heater will do the job just as well, dear, no need to fret.

Read on AO3!

 The air smells faintly of old parchment paper, book binding glue, and leather. The scent never seems to fade and Crowley suspects Aziraphale has something to do with that as well. Most humans find it somewhat distasteful and often find themselves making a rather startled face upon entering the shop followed immediately by an amusing and unattractive nose crinkle. 

That doesn’t always drive them away, though, and Crowley becomes further amused while Aziraphale would get rather frumpy, forming the most ridiculous and petulant pout he’d ever seen. The angel would make sure to use extra binding glue those days, making the smell all the more pungent. 

It makes Crowley want to kiss him. So sometimes, he does. He’ll lean over the front of Aziraphale’s workstation, tap the angel on the shoulder, and when he looks up, Crowley will try to snag a kiss from the angel’s lips. Occasionally, he’ll miss and land on his forehead or cheek, but nonetheless, Crowley is satisfied. 

Other times he’ll let Aziraphale brood loudly about the shop. He’ll put a little more force into his step and his double chin will become just a bit more pronounced as he tips his head down to keep his glare directed toward the floor. The emotions flicker across his face clearly displaying the war going on inside his angel’s brain, torn between politeness and some drastic steps that would “gently” encourage any potential customers quickly back out the door and onto the street.

You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here and all that. Thank you and have a nice day.

 Crowley would lean next to the till and watch, just basking in the presence of his grumpy angel. He used to pretend like he wasn’t watching. Like every minute he spent around Aziraphale wasn’t worth every second of secrecy and denial. His glasses did a lot of that work for him then. But now, things were different and Crowley didn’t want to waste a moment of their time together pretending anything. 

Moonlight lurks in the gaps of the shutters and gently attempts to creep across the floor hoping to reach the back of the old, lumpy settee. The moonlight hopes it can linger in the white curls of the angel currently residing there before the demon in his lap notices and gets jealous. Let it never be said that the moonlight is frightened of Crowley’s jealous indignation — though it will admit it’s become quite familiar with being on the receiving side of Crowley’s hissing and it knows well what it’s like to face the demon head on. 

The biggest upset in human history inside the bookshop? Well, it’s just that Crowley couldn’t press his face any closer into Aziraphale’s belly. Not without knitting their skin together, fusing cell by cell, permanently pressing his cheek into the grooves of each individual stretch mark kissing the angel’s stomach, thighs, arms.

 If only, he laments. If only he could remain here forever, his nose pushing into the available skin between Aziraphale’s waistband and where his shirt has come untucked, waistcoat and coat discarded long ago. 

If he could just bask until the end of time in the skin-on-skin contact, the soothing scrape of Aziraphale’s perfectly manicured nails gliding through his hair and along his scalp while the angel’s plush thighs pillow Crowley’s head and neck. He longs to kiss the plump flesh there hidden beneath Aziraphaple’s sensible trousers. In the pitch black of the room, save for the warm glow of the heater and the errant beam of moonlight stretching towards them, (as if he wouldn’t notice it) he can’t imagine moving a single muscle for the next century..

 If only.

Rather than linger on this particular tragedy, Crowley focuses his energy on appreciating exactly what he has in front of him right now, which is to say, absolute perfection. Even knowing he really has nowhere left to go, Crowley pushes his nose into the fat of Aziraphale’s stomach, groaning at the all warmth and love stored there. His arms snake tighter around his angel, squeezing. His fingers just barely brush each other behind Aziraphale’s back, forcing him to sit forward just a bit. 

Aziraphale makes a noise that Crowley thinks is supposed to be something like annoyance and scolding, but it ends up sounding more fond to him than anything else.

“Really now, dear. Your nose is poking me and it’s quite unpleasant. You’re going to have to release me.” In response, Crowley chooses not to move a single inch and grumbles something low into Aziraphale’s tummy. The angel can’t help but shake with laughter at the sensation. Crowley’s face curls up in an impossibly doting grin and though Aziraphale can’t see the full extent of Crowley’s adoration, he can feel it pressed into his body and somewhere low in his rib cage where he is positively thrumming with unadulterated affection.

“I’m sorry?” Aziraphale speaks around his smile. One hand remains in Crowley’s hair while the other skirts over his shoulders and under the collar of his shirt to rest his palm on Crowley’s bare back. He can feel the curve of Crowley’s spine and the way he moves with each inhale and exhale. He can feel Crowley’s heartbeat in his hands.

 The demon pulls back just enough to speak.

“I said,” Crowley drawls, “‘S impossible. Can’t move.” Each word comes out a hot puff of air against Aziraphale’s skin and it sends a shiver through his entire body.

“Is that so?”

“Mm. It is. Wouldn’t lie to you, would I, angel?”

“Ah, well,” Aziraphale teases, “wily and cunning serpent that you are, I never know when to trust you.”

“Shall I prove it to you then? I’m more than willing.” Crowley rolls away from Aziraphale’s soft middle just enough to stare up at the angel. His eyes glow like fireflies in the dim light and Aziraphale can imagine being swallowed by them, losing himself there for as long as it takes Crowley to blink. The hand in Crowley’s hair trails down the side of his face, caressing a sharp cheekbone and soothing his thumb over wrinkles in the corner of Crowley’s eye.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aziraphale whispers suddenly. He didn’t mean to say them, those words, but before he could stop and think, they were rushing up his throat, dancing across his tongue, sung from his lips like a prayer. Well, maybe not a prayer. Perhaps more like a song.

That happens sometimes, where he just can’t help himself. Crowley really is the most beautiful being Aziraphale has ever had the fortune to happen upon. And the words just come so naturally. The need to show Crowley how much he loves him, how much he positively adores him, fills him up like a helium balloon. 

The guilt consumes him, sometimes, when Crowley isn’t looking, when he isn’t around to remind him. All that wasted time and all the hurt he had caused. He knew and yet everything felt so hopeless. It felt like vines weaving throughout the gaps in his rib cage, his heart and lungs constricted, struggling to beat and inflate. 

 And then Crowley would be there, standing in front of Aziraphale with hands on shoulders, grounding him, asking if he was alright. Or he’d look up from across the room, abandoning whatever he was distracted with and meet Aziraphale’s eyes. Crowley would always just know from the look in his angel’s eyes, from the tight lines he held in his face. 

And then Crowley would just look at him and Aziraphale would look back. And oh the poetry he could wax about everything he sees in Crowley’s eyes. His brilliant, splendid eyes saying the most brilliant and splendid things. I see you and I understand and I love you and perhaps, most importantly, I forgave you a long time ago. It’s okay. You never have to ask.

Crowley’s giving him that look right now, saying all the right things without saying them. His lips twist up in a soft smile that lights up his entire face and Aziraphale feels like he’s about to float away with all the love in his chest lifting him up.

 Crowley rolls back onto his side, his face cupped by Aziraphale’s hand as it tenderly traces the edge of his mark. It stays there even as he turns toward Aziraphale’s round, soft belly and pushes the untucked clothing further up Aziraphale’s body. It rests precariously on the shelf of his stomach, exposing him to the musty air of the bookshop and Crowley’s sweeping gaze. His eyes are glazed over, half-lidded leaving Aziraphale waiting with bated breath.

Crowley has made it very clear to Aziraphale how much he appreciates the soft roundness of his angel’s corporation. Always kissing the swell of his cheeks and the folds in his neck, grabbing at his sides and hips. Aziraphale really hadn’t felt any inclinations either which way about the size and shape of his corporation over the last six thousand years or so; though, he had become rather sentimental after having it for so long. The same way one grows attached to a well-loved sweater. But being on the receiving end of all of Crowley’s reverent touches and constant praise certainly helped all those feelings along. And if it made Aziraphale feel more wanted and desirable, well no harm no foul.

Crowley releases his hold from around Aziraphale for a moment to grab hold of the hand covering his face, lacing their fingers together and slotting his bony fingers between the spaces of Aziraphale’s chubbier ones. His lips ghost over the generous give of the angel’s gut, starting from underside up the gentle slope until he reaches the edge of Aziraphale’s rucked up shirt. Then he makes his way across and then diagonal and eventually just anywhere he feels deserves more attention, slowly applying more pressure, lingering longer over each stretch of skin.

“You’re beautiful too, angel, so bloody beautiful. Wish you could see you the way I do,” he hums into Aziraphale’s tummy and sides and chest like he’s trying to tattoo the words there and Aziraphale is so overwhelmed by the brushing of lips against his bare skin that he can’t stop the long groan that escapes him. The urge to tug Crowley up, lose his hands in the long messy curls and just kiss every single freckle painted on the demon’s cheeks and forehead, wrists and knuckles, shoulders and back is overpowering.

“Oh, my darling. My dear sweet boy. My love.” Aziraphale could go on for ages. He’d call Crowley every endearment he’d ever read, heard and wasted time thinking up until he was red in the face. Until the galaxy was swallowed by darkness and the stars went supernova and the universe imploded. Until there was absolutely no question about the depth of Aziraphale’s love for him. 

He would if he could, if he thought that they didn’t have time. He’d spend every moment making sure Crowley knew what he felt before they ran out. But that’s not the case. They have forever, infinity times infinity, and so he has the opportunity to take Crowley’s hand and led him into it. He doesn’t need to push him in and hope he knows how to swim. 

Maybe he would try anyway if he felt he had any control over the irresistible need, the want, to pull Crowley’s lithe, lean body flush with his own. But as it turns out, Aziraphale is easily tempted and when it comes to his demon, he truly doesn’t have that control. He very quickly finds himself hauling Crowley up off his lap and pressing their bodies so close together that they could create a vacuum. 

Their lips slot together and if the whole world didn’t already fall away every second they were together, it would now. All the tiny variations — the nuances of each individual moment, of every individual kiss — spark across the connected skin like neurons firing through the brain. Aziraphale can feel Crowley’s knees knocking into his hips on either side. He can feel Crowley’s eyelashes brushing against the skin just under his eyes. He feels that long skinny nose that poked him in the stomach earlier smushed against his cheek and he hears the sure rhythm of Crowley’s heady breathing echoing in his head. 

Both pairs of hands wander — touching and testing patches of naked skin and soothing over wrinkled shirts, clutching handfuls of curls — and lips are soon to follow. Aziraphale keeps the promise he made to himself and thoroughly enjoys pecking at the hundreds of constellations of freckles he’s left behind, his kisses. Each spot overlaid becomes a shade darker, shines brighter against the white background. When he’s gone over every one he can reach, he begins to create new ones — one under Crowley’s chin, in the center of his cupid’s bow, just to the right of his Adam’s Apple — and they bloom like flowers, petals pushing apart and ready to greet the sun.

Crowley waits for Aziraphale to finish indulging himself while happily occupying himself with the skin connecting his angel’s neck to his shoulder — kissing, nipping, soothing over the marks with his tongue, rinse and repeat — by working around and under the collar of his shirt. His hands skirt up outside of his angel’s thighs and creep over his hips in of search the abundant flesh waiting for him at his angel’s waist. Once he feels the lack of clothing separating his hands from Aziraphale, he latches on, squeezing in random intervals. There’s just something so satisfying about the way it crowds his spread palms and fills the emptiness between his fingers. Something that makes him think, Mine. This is finally mine. 

“Had your fill of me yet, angel?” Crowley teases lightly as Aziraphale finally sits back and looks Crowley in the eyes. His hands rub up and down Crowley’s back under his shirt.

“Not in a million years, my love.” Aziraphale places a final kiss on the tip of Crowley’s nose. The demon’s face scrunches up a bit in an attempt to cover up an utterly besotted grin, but he can’t quite manage. 

“Got a reputation to uphold, you know.” Crowley says very seriously before wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and laying his head against his shoulder.

“I do know. Quite important, this reputation business. Perhaps we ought to refrain from such activities in the future. For the sake of your reputation, of course.” The audible smirk in Aziraphale’s tone is unbearable.

“Bastard. Don’t even joke about that,” Crowley growls, worming his way around his angel’s shirt to carve out his own section of bare shoulder, smacking it with a kiss which makes Aziraphale giggle at the sound and sensation.

“Well, then. I think we ought to head up to bed, don’t you? We’ve done quite enough sitting in the dark. I think I’d rather enjoy a bit of light reading.” Before Crowley can come up with a response, Aziraphale is standing up from the couch and lifting Crowley with him. He decides a contented hum and lazily wrapping his legs around his angel’s hips will do nicely instead.

Aziraphale’s socked feet make a muted thumping noise as he ascends the stairs to the flat above the shop. Soon enough, Aziraphale is using Crowley’s back to push the bedroom door open causing the demon to murmur some mild irritation and vague threat. He’s quite comfortable resting up against Aziraphale as he’s carried around though, much too comfortable to raise a real fuss.

That is, until he’s tossed onto their bed like a sack of potatoes, something like a oof! pushed out of him. He’s left cold on top of the covers while Aziraphale pretends to putter around the room, far too smug for his own good. 

And so Crowley remains there, cold and uncovered, purely out of spite. 

After changing into his pajamas, (a hideous set of mis-matching tartan, or so Crowley seemed inclined to voice on multiple occasions. Aziraphale finds them both stylish and comfortable) Aziraphale stands at the edge of the bed, tutting at Crowley’s behavior. 

“Come now, Crowley. Get changed and budge over.” Crowley fixes him with a glare that lasts all of five seconds before he’s snapping his fingers — clothes changed and eyeliner removed — and rolls over to his side of the bed. He pulls down the covers on his side, flopping down onto his pillow, hair a fiery blaze behind him. Aziraphale does likewise and scoots into his spot, wiggling around to get comfortable. Crowley watches on with unfiltered glee.

He continues to watch his angel closely as he clicks on the lamp beside him and peels back the cover of some hundred-year-old Dickinson collection, his reading glasses having appeared on the bridge of his nose at one point or another. Eventually, Aziraphale looks over at Crowley, feeling his eyes on him.

“Yes, dear?”

“I love you,” he blurts out. “I love you with all your moldy books and useless glasses and your ridiculous lovely body. I love all of it.” Aziraphale smiles brilliantly and the room is suddenly much brighter. Crowley could swear celestial light is leaking from Aziraphale’s pores and shining from behind his eyes.

“And I love you with your reckless driving and your useless glasses and your pointy nose, knees and toes, elbows and ankles. I love every last piece of you, mitting.” (This was one of those phrases that Aziraphale had sat on for quite a while before he finally had a chance to put it to use.)

Aziraphale lifts an arm for Crowley and he’s immediately curled up against the angel’s side, arms stretching across the long expansive of the angel’s belly while leaving space for the book to balance against Aziraphale’s chest. Legs twist together hidden beneath the blankets and toes wriggle about in cozy socks. Crowley rubs his leg up against Aziraphale’s, pushing up the pant legs of both their pajama bottoms.

It’s not long before Crowley falls asleep still tucked under Aziraphale’s arm and eventually, the angel decides it would be best to get some sleep himself. He places the book on top of his nightstand, not bothering to mark the page, and miracles the lights out. Gingerly, he moves his arm out from around Crowley and instead, manages to sneak his palm under Crowley’s head while the other arm pulls Crowley in closer, tucking his head beneath Aziraphale’s chin. He allows himself a brief moment of appreciation, brushing his fingertips over the flat plane of Crowley back.

“Until the morning,” he whispers into Crowley’s hair. He finally starts to drift off while watching the shadow of each snowflake tumble across the top of the duvet.

The now silent world within the bookshop remains so until daybreak, the night’s snow a puddle on the sidewalk and the flakes’ shadows replaced with a combination of orange, red, and gold light.

Until a red-headed demon slowly wakes in the early morning light to the soft, vulnerable skin of an angel’s throat pressing into his cheek. He’ll lay there for a long time, basking in the morning light and the happiness he feels in that moment with the knowledge that he’ll have that feeling many, many times in the distant, and not so distant, future.

Then he’ll clamber out of bed, trying not to wake the sleeping angel, to start making breakfast in a dusty, outdated kitchen. 

Until the angel will wake to find a vacant spot next to him, still warm. He too will get up from bed, though with far more coordination and less flailing of limbs. He’ll enter the kitchen and wrap his arms around the demon’s waist and inquire as to just what it is the demon is making.

“Nothing good with this kitchen, angel. Some bloody hedonist you are. Can’t even maintain a proper kitchen to make your own food.”

“Now, now, if you’re going to be that way, maybe I’ll just go to dinner without you tonight.” The demon will grumble and mumble but refrains from any further comment. The angel will force the demon to turn his head and offer a kiss as payment for the meal that will no doubt turn out very delicious. He accepts, of course.

Until that night when it starts snowing as the two walk home from dinner, the temperature dropping to temperatures much too cold for a fussy angel and his serpent. So the night ends much the same way it did previously: with the soft glow of the space heater in the corner where there once was a fireplace and curious moonbeams scampering across the floor. 

It ends with an angel and a demon so absolutely besides themselves with kindness and hope and love that they forgot what the cold feels like.

[captainhotch]

Day One: Aaron Hotchner

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Day One of my Twelve Days of Christmas🎄

A/N; from now until Christmas I’m gonna try my best to do 12 days of imagines based on my favorite tv and movie characters.

let me know if you wanna be tagged!

You had met Jack on multiple occasions under the pretenses of being just another one of his dad’s coworkers. You were, of course, a profiler in the FBI— a great one at that.

You and David Rossi went way back to your college days, being granted the rare opportunity to intern with the man as you earned your doctorate in psychology and criminology. You even assisted the older agent in writing his first book, your name present in the small italicized text of the dedication page.

When Rossi caught word of your work in criminology and the psychology of the minds of the murderer, he knew that you were the perfect fit for the BAU. He encouraged you to go through the training so he could recommend you and get you on the team.

Almost five years later and you were a seasoned professional, your psychological input and past studies helping immensly with catching the serial murderers that occupied the United States.

All while working through cases and catching killers you someone managed to find yourself in a “flirtationship”—for lack of better words— with Aaron Hotchner.

Hotch was an enigma. Someone whose walls were near impossible to tear down, especially with the death of his ex wife.

For some reason he found himself confiding in you, and you him. You told him how you struggled to sleep at night sometimes due to the terrors that plagued you in your line of work, and Hotch told you that he’s scared of his son losing his remaining parent.

On cases you two often paired off together, bouncing ideas back and forth over cups of coffee— that being when the best theories were generated.

Eventually the feelings that you caused in Hotch’s chest bubbled over and he kissed you at your car. You had just gotten back from a particularly idfficult case— one where you very well could’ve lost your life had Derek not managed to save you.

Hotch walked you out of the building and to your car, the journey being pretty silent, his hand brushing against your own as you walked.

When you turned around to say goodnight Hotch put his hand on your waist gently, the other one coming up to cup your face. Slowly he leaned in to kiss you. The kiss was urgent and full of pain, his way if communicating the words that he couldn’t make come out. He didn’t want to lose you.

It had been a year since that faithful day and you and Hotch were officially dating, the team figuring it out after a few days of an abnormally happy Hotch, and you being a flushed and blushing mess whenever the dark haired agent looked in your direction.

Jack still thought you were just a friend to his dad, a special one that cane around more then the rest, and ate dinner at his house sometimes. You even had a sleepover once, though it was more so with Jack then his dad— the young boy begging you to watch his favorite Disney movies with the pair after a particularly tasty dinner.

Jack moved from beside his dad to take his place next to you, both of you falling asleep during Finding Nemo.

That’s when Hotch knew he loved you.

When Hotch had approached you with the perspective of coming clean about your relationship to Jack, you were more then a little nervous.

Sure the kid loved you, and you loved him, but the last thing you wanted was for the little blonde boy to think you were trying to replace his mother.

“Are you sure about this, Aaron?” You asked the taller man, looking up at him with a nervous gaze.

“What’s not to be sure about?” Hotch inquired, raising his brow in your direction as he continued to pack up his brief case with files from the team’s recent trip to Atlanta.

“I-what if Jack’s not okay with all this?” You questioned, gesturing between the pair of you.

Hotch shook his head with a small smile, “He absolutely adores you. All Jack does is ask me when you’re coming back over for dinner. He’ll be over the moon.”

“But,” you began, pausing to follow Hotch outside of his office and down the stairs into the bullpen, “I don’t want him to feel like I’m intruding.”

“He’s 7,” Hotch deadpanned, turning around so he could face you fully, “Look— Jack loves you and I love you. There’s no reason to worry.” Hotch smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before taking your hand.

When you got to his house, you paused behind Aaron at the front door, taking a second to take a deep breath in—your palms sweating and your pulse increasing.

“Jack,” Hotch called out, his voice echoing through the house. He sent a smile to Jack’s aunt as she waved hello to the pair, sending a smirk towards the man as she spotted you.

“—hey, buddy,” Hotch greated as Jack ran into the man’s arms, demanding to be picked up.

“Hey!” He giggled, burying his face into his dad’s shoulder, “Hey, y/n!” Jack grinned down at you.

“Jack—“ Hotch began, “I have something I’d like to tell you.”

Well, that came far sooner then you had expected.

“Y/N and I are in a relationship, we’re dating.” He informed the young boy.

You watched as his expression shifted from one of confusion to an even larger smile then before.

“I know!” Jack smiled, being let out of his dad’s arms and immediately going over to grab you into a hug.

“You do?”Hotch laughed, watching as your face cleared of any signs of stress and worry.

“Yup. What’s for dinner?”

[alchemt]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑  𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓   .

repost ,     don’t reblog ,     please    ! 

BASICS.

full name.   varian of old corona   ! nickname.   v ,   goggles ,   hairstripe ,   vari  . gender.   cis male   (  he  /  his  ) height.   5′0″ age.   17 in canon verse ,   varies within others   !   zodiac.   aries sun ,    libra moon ,    pisces rising  . spoken languages.   drums my hands on the table ,   you got a dead language and something translatable and this kid learns it within a few weeks ,    easy ,    so we’re sorting demantius’ dialect in here ,   but i’d say both the dialects of the inner  +  outer parts of the kingdom  !    (    i’ll talk a lil more specifically ab this in accent  !    )    maybe a smattering of words n phrases of languages found in the other kingdoms ,   due to his work that has all kinds of people coming to him for alchemic assistance ,  as well as being an outskirt village  !

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair color.   black w/ brown highlights and a teal stripe  !   eye color.   blue   ! skin tone.   very light and very very fair ,    burns within a few hours of being outside in the summer sun ,    but before that ,    freckles  ! ! ! accent.   the tts  -  english version of what was most likely a version of an early nineteenth century germanic dialect by the coast   !     i would also reach to say that it’s probably audibly different from what is usually spoken within corona’s main city   /   citadel ,    due to the distance between main and old corona ,    there’s probably a different dialect for those living on the far reaches of the kingdom outskirts  !    voice.   usually very pronounced ,   very loud ,   and very fast ,   depending on whether he’s talking ab his work or not .    either way ,    it’s prone to cracking .   his brain tends to work faster than his mouth ,   so there’s a lot of repetition and backtracking as well  !   dominant hand.   ambidextrous  !    he’s confident enough w/ pouring chemicals with both hands ,   and his staff switches between right and left constantly .   it doesn’t look like he prioritizes towards one over another ,   usually using the one that feels right in the moment .   posture.    absolutely  horrendous  !    literally you will always find him slouching over notes and various versions of work ,    falling asleep in bad positions over his workstations ,    and w/ working his way around machinery   ––   hanging over and around gently dangerous and in - progress kinds of equipment and chemical machinery does  not  always equal the best of results for one’s muscles and posture    ––    but   !     ruddiger  is actually a really wonderful addition to the family here w/ this ,    a welcome weight on his shoulders ,   which also serves to remind him to straighten up   (   in more ways than one  🥺   )   ! scars.   lots of chemical burn scarring   !     alchemy is an incredibly dangerous practice ,    and vari is  not  one to stick to a safety protocol on his own volition ,     like  a  whole  entire  fool  ,   so there’s lots of burnt clothes and burn scars    ––   the gloves were most likely a  gift  from his father ,    as soon as there had been a few accidents leading to some permanent markings on his hands ,    the same w/ the apron .    i do like to think he makes his own goggles ,   though ,    i.e.  why he has  so  many  of them to go around   !   tattoos.   n/a in most verses ,    but i love the idea of him getting one to tie back to all the work he’s done w/ the demanitus legend   /   language when he’s older   !  birthmarks.   hmmm .    i may come back to this at a later point ,    but for now let’s say if there are some ,   they’ve been marked over by other scars .  most noticeable feature(s).   teal hair stripe ,    gigantic goggles ,   some article of clothing is always slightly singed   (   or still on fire ,   please let him know asap   !    )  .  

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth.   old corona  ! birth weight.   most likely underweight . birth height.   small ,   tiny ,   it sticks w/ him ,   the poor kid  !   first words.   blue  !     siblings.   none   !    can’t vouch for canon here ,   but i’m going to go with historical accuracy here and say his mother died due to sickness when vari was still a baby . parents.   quirin  ( father ) ,   a woman who wasn’t given a name bc tts is Like That™  ( mother ) parental involvement.   being son to the leader of the village isn’t always .   super  great   !   there’s a lot of interactions between them that lean into the thinking that there’s a .   stilted kind of relationship between them ?    (    think .    that is enough ,     varian     /     yes ,   sir .       think .     not again  ,    varian  .     think .    you are not ready .    )    running a village is a busy enough position to be in ,    let alone one in the middle of a crisis  ,     and it doesn’t feel like there’s much time left ,   or  prioritized ,   in either of those times  ,    to develop a relationship w/ vari  ?     i can’t imagine that the loss of his mother really .    helps  ?    there’s so much  hurt  there ,    you can see it when quirin looks at the portrait in qfad ,    and so they’re very distanced due to just .    not knowing how to reach one another  ?    there’s always something ,   too big to cross ,    too far to reach .    so much of varian’s story is trying to get his father to  see  him ,   to be proud of him ,   and it reflects so much onto .   quirin’s absence  ?    in vari’s work ,    in his interests ,   in  him   ?    and in wanting that ,   needing that emotional relationship more than anything else  ?    feels like enough to drive him to uh     .  .  .     doing A Lot™ to get it .   

ADULT LIFE.

occupation.   " wizard “  of old corona   →    alchemist   →    co-lady-in-waiting   (  The Best Day ,    you will never be able to pry this title away from him   )    →    the gentle villain stint    →    redeemed alchemist     →    most trusted royal engineer of corona   !   current residence.   old corona   !    depending on verse he also travels ,   and lives within the citadel to be close to the official castle lab  !   close friends.   ruddiger ,   rapunz.el ,   cassandra ,   eugene ,   lance  . financial status.   as son as the leader of a village ,   i’d say middle class ,   esp. since they’re living in an outskirt town ,   it isn’t much ?    a lot of varian’s experiments come from deconstructing old ones to reuse and rebuild from scraps .   he def sews their clothes back into working order as well   !    driver’s license.   not exactly modern ,    but he  can  fly a hot air balloon  !    that’s pretty vehicular   !    no license tho bc he’s .   gotta rebel in the ways that he still can  !   criminal record.   pulls out a scroll that rolls down the whole expanse of the throne room    :     “  attacking  “   princess rapunz.el on the night of the snowstorm ,   drugging an entire castle staff w/ laced cookies ,   assisting   +   instigating in the theft of herz der sonne's journal ,   assisting   +   instigating the plan to break into the castle vaults ,   stealing the sundrop flower   (    +   later destroying it    ) ,    endangering the crown princess on multiple accounts ,    multiple accounts of assault   +   endangerment to the people of both main and outer corona    (   birthday automaton ,   enhanced ruddiger ,   army of automatons .    ) ,     kidnapping the queen ,     attempted regicide ,    breaking out of jail ,     aligning himself with the saporians ,    wiping the memories of the king   +   queen ,    allegedly planning on continuing the memory wipe to the whole of kingdom corona ,    endangering the whole of main corona with his chemicals yet  again  . vices.   arrogance ,    doubt ,    recklessness .    love language.    primarily  actions  ! !     you need something done ?   you need someone to do something for you  ?    he’s your boy  !    he also gives gifts ,   as well ,   mostly  practical  ones ,   usually lil machines or things he’ll think that could be of use or necessity  !   

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song.    oh   i  will  make  you  proud   is too much of a  bop  to be anything but his theme  !   we also see it played throughout the seasons in instrumental swells within gentle or Big Plot™ moments ,   even all the way back in  what  the  hair  !   so much of his character  +  narrative arcs lean on being seen and known and validated  ?   it’s important to him ,    but especially for it to come from his dad ,    or even from those he admires n looks up to  ?     The whole entire Dream  ! hobbies to pass time.    experiments ,    building w/ spare machinery parts ,   playing around w/ ruddiger ,    cooking  ,    gardening  ,    sewing ,    reading ,    etc .     ! mental illnesses.   anxiety ,   depression ,    ptsd . physical illnesses.    he gets sick a lot .   exposure to dangerous chemicals can lead to a weakened immune system ,   so it ends up showing in lots of semi - sick days after all - nighters that he works through until he eventually collapses or gets worse .   it does mean that he eventually develops a good repertoire of being able to recognize various symptoms of sicknesses ,    and with a bit of studying ,    experience on how to treat people within his village   +   even beyond   ! fears.   losing his father ,    being lied to   /   kept in the dark ,   not being enough despite his best efforts  ,    never being fully trusted in the same way again ,   that he won’t be who he could’ve been ,    once ,    bright in the light ,   unhurt and unhistoried ,    and that the darkness is still in him ,   waiting for the day that he snaps again .    self-confidence level.    can i get a big  oof  in the chat bc it’s not .    really exactly super - great  ?    or even super - sturdy ,   for that matter  ?   ambition is one thing ,    but failed experiment and failed invention over and over again can be .   extremely disheartening ,   especially when it comes w/ a verbal disappointment speech ,   as well as side - eyes and general wariness   +   distrust from everyone in his village .   he’s incredibly confident in his knowledge   +   ability ,    and can don the   “  wizard of old corona  “   facade ,    but he’s .    he wants to do something right ,    so  so  badly ,   to prove himself ,    to prove that he can ,    even if he’s not exactly the right person to do it ,   he’s going to try anyways  ,    even if it’s just in case ,    even if it’s the only recourse left   ?    and that can be .    dangerous ,    to say the least ,    as we’ve seen .     but  but  but    !    with the help of raps and cass and eugene and lance ,   and being given the chance(s) to be included in their lil found family ,    in being able to prove himself among them    (    with some bumps along the way ,    a sad kid with no family left can go a lil feral w/ fury and grief as a treat ,    as you do ,    you know how it be sometimes    ) ,    and come into his own  ?    has been .      the  absolute  best   !     everything he’s done for the name of good ,    for the betterment of the lives of others  !    all of the light that it brings into his life ,    into his work  !      love that for him   !  !  !    vulnerabilities.   overactive ,   maybe leaning a lil too close to what’s really an obsessive need for answers ,    how that there are not many lines he’s not willing to cross to do something he deems Right™ or for those that he loves ,    how he’s easily provoked to accept challenges   +   problems to solve .

TAGGED BY.   @irnmaidn​ ! 💕 TAGGING.    so  i  did .   gently  cut  a  lot  out  of  this , so  if  you  are  interested  in  filling  this  out ,   let  me  know  and  i will  happily direct  u  back  to  the  whole  of  it   !

[aelaer]

300

Tumblr’s algorithm picked up my last whumptober post and that unexpectedly rocketed me up to over 300 followers (welcome new folks, I haven’t had a chance to even look at y’all yet). But really it’s quite flattering. (I think at least 10% of them are pornbots, but beggars can’t be choosers.)

So I guess in uh, celebration/woohoo, I’m just gonna post snippets from my WIPs (outside of the whumptober ones as those are coming out in the next couple days) which… well, it’s something. :3 Yes it all has to do with Stephen, I’m going one-trick-pony mode right now and it’s a friggin blast.

This is long and has WIPs of art too, so cut cut cut bellllooww.

The farking Doctor Strange/Sherlock crossover that’s been at 80% complete since July and still has no title

However, before Sherlock got caught up into the cloak once again, he forced his eyes to the man’s hands. A lot could be discovered by someone’s hands.

And what hands they were. His eyes involuntarily widened at the sight of the ragged, and in some places hypertrophic scars on the back side of each finger. He quickly looked to the other hand; they were there, too. Clearly they were crushed in some sort of accident, but an accident that left him upright and without any hint of a limp. It was possible that they were caught in some sort of machinery, but both at the same time? Statistically speaking, a car accident was more likely. A car accident that damaged the bonnet of the car and crushed his fingers between the steering wheel and the dashboard, more than likely leaving permanent nerve damage. Unfortunate.

The age of the scars showed that they were healed over, but their nature made it difficult to determine how long ago they were received. With the overall lack of fading, however, it was likely that the damage occurred within the last few years. He could not see his palms and determine anything from there, but the callus upon his right middle finger determined which hand he wrote with. Or once wrote with, at any rate. His hands could certainly be worthy of further study, if only to attempt to determine their surgical history.

Upon his left wrist was, of all things, a wristwatch. He narrowed his eyes. It was a Jaeger-LeCoultre and it was not a counterfeit by any means, but it was not a model he recognized. It looked very similar to the Master Ultra Thin Moon only just released; was this an early prototype for a new model? Even as the question fluttered through his mind, he immediately chastised himself for his stupidity. There was clear wear on the band that spoke of it being worn for years, never mind the cracked face. 

Custom-made, he eventually concluded, though even that answer did not quite sit right with him. Regardless, it spoke of a man who had wealth— or used to, in any case. The wear and damage on the watch told a new picture now, but he seemed to still be connected to some form of influence. His clothing was of a very rich quality, and that was not including the unique cloak. Perhaps he was now connected with someone in the Greater Tibetan area, or someone of wealth in the Indian subcontinent. Or from there, at any rate. 

He let his eyes go up the length of the man’s sleeves. Cloth bands decorated the forearms of his otherwise seemingly-plain shirt, likely made of wool and hemp. He indulged himself and studied the embroidery on the edge of the cloak again. He received no further information concerning its origin and make beyond what he had already determined, but there was something about it that was absolutely enchanting.

But enough lingering; he finally turned his body to lay on his side and brought his eyes up to meet the bearer of this very odd ensemble of attire.

And he saw himself.

Within the Shadows (villain!AU) sequel that finalllyyy has a title, Inhibited Lodgings (I think this one is about at 85%! So soooonnnn)

When one of the nurses came in with dinner, Stephen hardly acknowledged him. The nurse set the tray on the overbed table and, after a quick, “Eat while it’s hot!” left the room.

Stephen ignored it. He continued his obsessive perusal of the tablet, shaky fingers managing to steady enough to click link after link after link.

Stark came in an hour later and the tray was still untouched. He quirked his brows up. “Y'know Doc, if you don’t eat, Doctor Cho is going to be very stern with you and you’ll feel terrible after that.”

He raised his head from the tablet at the sound of Stark’s voice, blinking. “What?” He then looked at the tray of food. “Oh… right. I forgot that was brought in.” He looked at the now stone-cold chicken and broccoli with a small grimace.

“I’ll have them make you another plate. Send that info up, FRI.” Stark sunk into one of the chairs beside the bed. “What has you so distracted, anyway?”

Stephen turned the tablet around to show him his screen, which had a list of all the Billboard Hot 100 and Billboard 200 for all genres in 2011. “I only considered yesterday that there might be differences in music between my reality and this one. A check to see if my favorite artists existed here turned into something of a full day project.”

Stark was clearly interested. “No kidding. Did you find any differences?”

“Dozens. In some ways it’s amazing that it’s only that many across hundreds of artists and songs, but I cannot imagine not having Rocky’s training montage paired with ‘Eye of the Tiger.’ ”

“I know I’ve seen a couple of those films, but I couldn’t tell you the name of any training song off the top of my head,” he said. “But I’d probably remember a song with that name.”

He nodded. “Exactly! I can live without the 'Macarena’ and 'Kung Fu Fighting’, but that song made that sequence legendary.”

Stark’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’ll take your word for it. Anything particularly good from your reality that you found missing?”

“I’m still debating if losing all of Journey’s discography is worth never having to hear 'Don’t Stop Believing’ again.”

Time Travel Pseudo!villain Stephen aka Freakin Carmen Sandiego (yes, this is gonna happen. But it’s not happening until those two above are completed, and it’ll be written concurrently with the rest of the villain!Stephen series, as I suspect it will be on the longer side. The outline’s 4 pages long…)

He walked over and crossed his arms as Bruce replayed the video; it was definitely a better quality than the pixelated mess of everything else he’d seen so far. Even with the high-definition, though, the man’s fully-black outfit made him difficult to see against the night sky, and his face was completely covered by what looked like both a mask and hood. He’d be all-but-invisible without the glowing lights all around him. A gasp suddenly ran through the crowd, and the camera swiveled to look at the Palace of Westminster, now bereft of the tower. A few shouts then broke through, and the camera footage swung back to the night sky, but the man was gone.

“Where’d he go?” Tony asked as he leaned over Bruce and pressed both the replay and mute button.

“Uh, according to witnesses, after Elizabeth Tower vanished, he darted under the bridge— probably at the end with the screaming there— and disappeared.”

“I thought that was Big Ben,” he muttered, pressing replay again.

Bruce shook his head. “No, Big Ben’s the bell in Elizabeth Tower. I knew someone in college— British— who got rather annoyed over that misnomer. Really annoyed, actually.” He made a face to himself.

Tony, however, was busy squinting at a bit of the footage he had paused. “Does it look like he has a sort of— something— on his chest?”

The physicist leaned in and squinted alongside him. “Yeah. I’d say it almost looks like one of your arc reactors, but I don’t think your arc reactors do this.”

“But it could still be a power source,” Tony answered. 

“Definitely,” Bruce answered. “It looks almost like he’s pulling from it.”

“That makes no sense, but a lot of this alien tech is nothing like anything that exists on Earth right now. I’d be interested in figuring out how it works.”

Bruce continued to peer at it. “So would I,” he said. “If you can keep it from S.H.I.E.L.D long enough to do so.”

Tony makes a face. “They have the scepter to play with. They can have it when I’m done.”

“You’re going to have to catch him first,” he pointed out.

“Pshh, after Loki, this’ll be easy-peasy. We’ll have him caught within two days.”

ARTS (just the two Stephens for now)

I didn’t have time last weekend to work on digital Stephen, but he’s still a lot farther ahead than when I last posted here sooooooo. (I won’t have time this weekend either, so… he’ll come sooner or later).

Annddd I figured out what my ugly yellow corner square is gonna be. I’m doing fan art for a fan fic like a real nerd. Bringing out the prismacolors again. Right now I’m still in the ‘messing around with line art’ phase. I plan to do this while I’m at tabletop gaming on Sundays.

And that’s that for WIPs. Now I need to go work on ficlets.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 209: Proud Dads, Determined Rivals, and a Prison Interlude

Previously on BnHA: Team BakuJirouSatouSero scored a flawless 4-0 victory against Team TokaBondoAwaKama. Here’s how it went down: (1) Bakugou protected Jirou and everyone watching was like “holy shit did Bakugou just protect Jirou??” and his classmates were like “YES THAT JUST HAPPENED”; (2) Awase welded Bakugou to some columns with his quirk; (3) Satou used his own quirk to smash Bakugou free; (4) Jirou stunned Awase with her quirk and Sero tied him up; (5) Bakugou blasted Bondo and Satou restrained him afterward; (6) everyone watching was like “SO BAKUGOU DOES TEAMWORK NOW?!” and again his classmates were like “YES”; (7) Bakugou flung Kamakiri into a wall, which looked like it hurt, sorry Kamakiri; (8) we learned that Bakugou had given some extra grenades to his teammates and they’d used them to blow up a bunch of Tokage’s amputated body parts, forcing her to regenerate and use up her stamina; and finally, (9) the depleted Tokage flew right into Bakugou and he took her out with a (Point-Blank) Stun Grenade attack. Basically it was just Bakugou is Awesome: The Chapter. If I didn’t know any better I’d think I had fantasized this whole fucking thing you guys. THAT’S MY BOYYYY.

Today on BnHA: Aizawa gives his team a thumbs up and Kaminari is all “WOW KACCHAN YOU REALLY CAN BE NOT-A-JERK IF YOU TRY HUH” and All Might is all “chills, Young Bakugou. LITERAL CHILLS” and that last bit makes Bakugou get all shy and embarrassed and it’s super fucking cute. Then he bumps into Deku and Deku is all “wow that was awesome” and Bakugou is all “you can’t beat me” and Deku is all “nah I can” and it goes on like this for a page and then Bakugou leaves and then All Might is all “I ship it.” Over on class B’s side, Monoma and his team begin to strategize for their upcoming battle. Everyone agrees that their first priority should be to take out Deku because You Just Don’t Fuck With Deku. The 5th set begins, and it’s honestly too many names to squish together, I’m gonna be real with y’all, but anyway so Deku’s side also has Mina, Ochako, and Mineta though. And their plan is to have Deku be a decoy and draw out Team B’s most troublesome members (i.e. Shinsou). As things get started, All Might gets a call from Gran Torino. We then cut to Tartarus of all places, where Prisoner #1541, better known as All for One, is squirming around and making the guards nervous. Turns out AFO is excited because apparently he can “hear his little brother’s voice.” Um. Okay.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 224, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

haHA!

THAT’S HOW WE DOOOOOOOOOO

oh man. that was such a rush. how could anyone possibly not enjoy that. I think even Aizawa was probably pumping his fist a couple of times and then trying to play it off like he didn’t care lol

poor Vlad King

I wonder how this will change people’s strategies going up against Bakugou in the future. the kid whose own classmates once worried that he wouldn’t accept being rescued even when his life was literally on the line just pulled off some of the smoothest fucking teamwork I’ve ever seen. I mean that shit was seamless. and “cooperation” was this kid’s one and only weak stat before; moving forward it’s getting harder and harder to imagine how anyone could possibly beat him

and lest I not give the others the credit they deserve, they were outstanding as well. Satou with the clutch save and then later helping to apprehend Bondo! Sero who made expert use of his quirk to get the others in position and to capture Awase! and then being the one to figure out Tokage’s weakness and exploit it! and last but most definitely not least my girl Jirou, who kept the others advised of class B’s movements throughout and was the one to actually KO Awase before Sero tied him up!

basically they all did so gooood. even Aizawa can’t possibly find anything to chew them out for can he? lol I’m so proud of my babies

HAHA!!

HE GAVE THEM A THUMBS UP! HE’S ALMOST SMILING! OH MY GOD THAT MEANS THEY DID AMAZING. AND HE EVEN FOUND A WAY TO WORK IN SOME EXTRA COMPLIMENTS FOR PROBLEM CHILD #2 OVER THERE. AWW

meanwhile poor Vlad can’t find much to say either because let’s be real there’s no way his kids were ever gonna win that one

“based on past data” wow you guys I wonder if I’m ever going to stop being over the moon about this lol

but I mean, that’s exactly why I’m so psyched! it’s that slow burn character development! this was done so, so painstakingly, and little by little all the groundwork was put in until we finally reached the payoff. and that’s why it’s so satisfying. it’s because this is the side of Bakugou that I’ve been waiting for from the very start. this is him finally achieving the potential he has always had. it took so much patience and it was so, so worth it. so yeah. fuck it. I’m gonna keep being giddy about it

poor Tokage is apologizing to her teammates and she looks really worn out and I feel bad :( poor girl

but Awase is all “if someone with moves like his turns into a ‘goody two-shoes’, they have no holes to exploit” and oh my god lol. that’s what I’m saying, though. lol everyone is so fucked now :DDDD “well fuck us, if Bakugou’s not even going to be an asshole anymore then we might as well roll over and die now”

OH MY GOD

NEW FAVORITE PANEL ALERT

LET’S ANALYZE EVERYTHING!!! LET’S FUCKING DO IT!!

“KACCHAN” IS ALIVE AND WELL, I SEE!

BUT RIGHT AWAY HE COMPLIMENTS JIROU AS WELL BECAUSE KAMINARI IS HERE DOING HIS PART IN THIS THE YEAR TWENTY BI-TEEN

WELL DUH, SHE’S A HERO KAMINARI!!!

“A DELINQUENT PICKING UP A BUNCH OF STRAY CATS” SDFLAKSDFKJL WHAT AN AMAZING SIMILE. SERO YOU CAN COME SIT BY ME

and last but not least, there isn’t so much as a blink in regards to the “Kacchan.” this seriously is going to be his new hero name. this has gone from “I sure would love it if...” to “I’m actually starting to become increasingly sure of this” to “I would put solid money on it and would be amazed at this point if it doesn’t end up happening.” honestly I just want it to happen already lol

(ETA: yeah I might lose that bet lol. I still would love this because Parallels, but those Ground Zero feels from 223 have me rethinking my entire life ngl. btw that turned out to be “ground zero” spelled out in katakana though, not 爆心地/bakushinchi, so who knows. still kinda up in the air here.)

-- oh my fucking god you guys!!

ahhhhhhhhhhhhh ;______;

let’s analyze everything again omgggggg

look at Kacchan’s face. look at how he’s ignoring the others behind him entirely. his focus is entirely on All Might here. just waiting for his response. trying his best not to show how important it actually is to him

and All Might’s exceedingly proud face, and that praise. “CHILLS, YOUNG BAKUGOU. YOU GAVE ME FUCKING CHILLS” lmaoooo

AND THEN KACCHAN’S ULTIMATE TSUNDERE RESPONSE!!!

HE HAD TO TURN AWAY IMMEDIATELY SO THAT ALL MIGHT WOULDN’T SEE IF HE BLEW IT AND FUCKING BLUSHED OR SOMETHING

THE LEFT HAND MOVING UP TO HIS EAR! you’re telling me this kid, Bakugou fucking Katsuki, THE COCKIEST BOY WHO EVER LIVED, actually felt self-conscious to the point where he had to turn away and was all “whatever it’s not a big deal” and rubbing at his ear and avoiding eye contact with fucking everyone because he was so fucking happy that he made All Might proud, and no one can ever know!!!! QUICK, SAY SOMETHING COOL! “...YOU PROBABLY JUST CAUGHT A COLD OR SOMETHING.” NAILED IT!! SO SMOOTH KACCHAN

oh my god you guys this moment is seriously everything to me though. I’m so fucking happy for him. and he is so fucking cute jesus christ I want to pinch his adorable embarrassed cheeks ffff

OH HELLO

“REFLEX” I LOVE THAT THEY HAD TO CLARIFY IT. BECAUSE HE’S NOT THAT MEAN ANYMORE AND WE JUST WANT TO MAKE SURE PEOPLE KNOW

but he was so wrapped up in the praise he just got from his hero that when Deku startled him he got so flustered and he just automatically slipped back into what he knows. “nuuu leave me aloneeee.” HE’S NOT EVEN IN YOUR WAY THOUGH

SDFLKASHLDKFJ

PEOPLE OF THE WORLD, BNHA FUCKING DARES YOU NOT TO SHIP THESE IDIOTS. YEAH GO ON. JUST TRY IT

DSKAFDSHLFKHAWOIFHWOKFHSLK

lol unlike with All Might, Kacchan knows exactly how to respond to Deku’s praise by this point

but they’ve seriously come such a long way as well. look at how Katsuki’s response acknowledges Deku’s strength even as he keeps the rivalry alive and well. “you’ll never be able to catch up.” acknowledging Deku as the threat he is, the one who pushes him to keep improving

and then Deku’s confident response, slipping right into a rapport with him. no stammering or hesitation. just his own cocky little grin. he’s fucking living for this. being rivals with Kacchan! don’t mind him it’s just everything he ever wanted that’s all

lol so now Katsuki’s telling him to shut up and that he’ll never be able to surpass him!

and Deku’s all

I stan two (2) idiot rivalboys who are just starting to heal their relationship after so long and let me tell you guys it is an absolute and utter pleasure to see it go down and I am here for it and will be here for it as it continues to progress and as Katsuki continues to learn how to be Less Of A Jerk and make amends for his Past Bullshit and the two of them continue to establish this rivalry and then start to take their next steps toward the final stage, the endgame if you will, which is being partners who actually trust one another. oh my god. and I can’t fucking believe we’re finally within sight of that now though and oh my fucking god you guys

what are you thinking All Miiiiiiiight. I just explained to you all of my ten zillion thoughts on this so now you give me one of yours!

asldfkjalsfdjoi

OH SO YOU WERE SHIPPING THEM TOO HUH

ffffffff I’m telling you, every time he looks at the two of them together he sees their future selves, working together and trusting one another and relying on one another and together being the greatest heroes the world has ever known. All Might is the original BakuDeku shipper. he loves them so much and he’s so proud of them

and look at the word he uses there. friend. once again seeing through all of their fronting and other nonsense to the core of what they really are. and “friend” is not a word you could use to describe what Katsuki is to Izuku until very recently, but he’s absolutely right. we saw that earlier today when Katsuki saw them talking and came over and asked if anything had happened with OFA and then listened and reassured Izuku. that wasn’t rivalry, there -- that was care and concern (very brusquely offered but still). we are officially entering a whole new stage of this thing you guys, and fucking bring it on

also Deku’s face though. like, he was trying to keep that Rival Smirk in place, but look at the Actual Grin fighting to work its way out and him being so excited because it’s Kacchan and it’s what he’s wanted for so long ffff

ANYWAY. so we’re finally going to move on from the BakuDeku part of this chapter now though so say farewell

(ETA: oh my god this one section of this recap analyzing three fucking pages was longer than some of my other recaps in their entirety. sorry, guys; I see a pair of rivals and I lose all self control.)

All Might is adding “other than that potty mouth of his” which is Classic All Might, and meanwhile Shinsou is watching the two of them (All Might and Deku) with an indecipherable expression, oh my

anyway so now we turn to our other resident cocky blond

“not half bad” from Monoma in reference to Katsuki is like a fucking Michelin star holy shit

now Tokage is coming up to him dejected and apologizing and saying that it’s mathematically impossible for class B to win now

well that is true but they can still tie though. honestly I have no idea how this last fight will go now

wow Monoma

that accelerated from insightful to pompous so quickly I don’t think anyone even had time to strap themselves in

“everyone is a supporting character in someone else’s life, and the main character in their own” fucking what lmao

I mean, he’s not wrong though. unless you’re Deku. then you’re just The Main Character. surprise! a good way to tell if you’re actually the main character in everyone’s lives and not just your own is if you get attacked by villains in every single arc btw

so Kakashi Girl is asking what is Monoma’s plan anyway

did they not come up with one yet?? they had all that time! the most time out of anyone!

Shouda says they should adapt a strategy similar to Tokage’s team

sure, if you also want to get beat 4-0 in a record five minutes

so he says they should stick together and keep themselves concealed and that there are no merits in challenging the other team to hand-to-hand combat

whatever you say. I only know two of you guys’ quirks here. I personally would be looking to take advantage of the Monoma-borrows-Shinsou’s-quirk strategy to take them by surprise, which is only going to work once but damned if it won’t be really fun to watch though

absolutely. he’s the Bakugou of their team, for sure. but if you thought Kacchan’s team had good teamwork, you ain’t seen nothing yet though

and also don’t forget that my girl Uraraka “gon’ fuck your shit UP” Ochako is also on this team! anyone wants to underestimate her, it’s at their own risk

apparently class B has been doing their research and keeping up with the times, because they’re aware that Deku’s style has come a long long way from the days of the sports festival. they even know about his new long-distance attacks! wow

also they describe him as “Bakugou’s equal or maybe even greater” in terms of both mobility and power, which is excellent. this series keeps giving me what I want

so Shinsou agrees that they need to take out Deku first “no matter the cost.” but he’s bringing up the fact that Deku is able to escape from his brainwashing

oooooh

ehhhh but I kinda feel like that’s a waste of the potential that Monoma-with-Shinsou’s-quirk has, and I don’t get how doubling down would do anything other than just make things more complicated. and also, won’t Deku’s team be on the lookout for Shinsou’s quirk now? idk just seems like a lot of things that could go wrong here. this fight is going to be so interesting

Monoma looks thoughtful and says that it’s possible “things won’t go as planned for me either”

but he says that either way they need to stop Deku from roaming free or they have no chance. “I’m counting on you, Shinsou”

so now the teachers are gathered and saying that this is the last round, which we already know. “I wonder how Shinsou will fare?”

I know Aizawa is actually way more invested in this than he’s letting on, so I’m officially rooting for class B here despite my best boy and best girl Izuku and Ochako being on the class A team. sorry guys. but I just want your new brother to do well so he can be accepted into your class and get to be your brother full time!

I highly doubt that they will! so now we’ll see whether or not he can adapt!

oh shit I forgot Mineta was on this team. hey team B I’m giving you guys a freebie. you can just come pick him up now

anyway so on their side they are of course worried the most about Shinsou. though Ochako’s reminding them that they should be worried about everyone!

lol that started out as what seemed to be a pep talk, but then turned into more of a “there’s actually way more ways we could lose than just that!” type of thing lmao

and what is this now

did you guys spend all your time practicing this instead of coming up with some actual strategies. we fucking know what you can do you boobs

lmaoooooo

what are you talking about!? honestly you could probably combine your quirks and still pull out a win even without Deku if you tried. Mina what happened to all that creativity you were overflowing with during the Band AU arc??

(ETA: thankfully she’s still got it! lol watch your back Mineta)

and anyway, since you do have Deku though, this team is basically Bakugou’s Team 2.0. the possibilities are endless! you guys are so fucking versatile! stop getting down on yourselves! where is the leadership?? the last group only just showed everyone how much of a difference that shit makes. Deku where are you

oh there you are

would that really work? I know if it was me on team B and I saw Deku off on his own I’d be like “okay great, let’s stay as far the fuck away from him as possible and go after the others while they’re undefended”

oh apparently he told them all about his weird quirk mishap earlier because Mina’s asking him how he’s doing now

but he says he’s feeling fine, same as always

and he thinks that after watching the 4th set, they’ll be on their guard against him though. yeah exactly

Mineta’s asking if he’s going to be all right because they’re relying on him

oh y’all know I’m living for this calm heroic confidence

this right here. is exactly the type of hero I want Deku to be. oh my god I’m so fucking proud of my boys in this arc, though

SHUT UP MINETA

STEADFAST DEKU IS THE BEST DEKU. GO GET YOURSELF CAPTURED BY SHINSOU ALREADY IF YOU’RE GONNA BE LIKE THAT

so now Deku’s flexing his hand and he says nothing feels off

sdlfkhalsdkflj

“after he lit a fire under me like that” oh my god. and this is why their rivalry is my favorite fucking part of the series. just look at how they push each other. Kacchan just gave the performance of a lifetime after reluctantly learning the true meaning of Christmas from the boy he formerly thought of as a pebble in his shoe. and now Deku is here calmly telling everyone they’re definitely going to win, and thinking determined thoughts after getting all fired up after that talk with his best friend. CAN I CALL THEM THAT YET? NO? I’M BEING TOLD I JUMPED THE GUN EXTREMELY BY A WHOLE LOT? ARE YOU SURE? OKAY SORRY I JUST GOT EXCITED MY BAD. BUT GIVE IT A LITTLE MORE TIME THOUGH?

anyways so Vlad is all “BEGIN!” and there are two big panels of the teams getting all set to go!

oh shit and now All Might’s phone is ringing unexpectedly

lol @ Midnight telling him to shut that thing off. All Might that’s so rude

oh shit it’s Gran! that was fast. oh my god now they can talk about Deku’s weird quirk bullshit yessssssssss

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

ISN’T THIS TARTARUS?!?!

ASDFKLHLKJL

jesus christ. if you have upwards of 1500 extremely dangerous high security prisoners, then maybe just maybe you might want to go ahead and refer to them by their fucking names just for simplicity’s sake. “which one is 1541 again?” like is it good or bad that he moved? these are circumstances where even a split second of having to go through your mental filing system to recall who’s who might end up being disastrous if things go wrong

anyways don’t mind me, just nitpicking really stupid things instead of getting on with the story. okay so who is that. is it AFO??

so the guard is mumbling that it would be nice if they could hurry up with “the decision and execution” of 1541’s sentence. “at this rate we won’t be able to last”

wow. so it must be AFO, right? if they’re just letting him move around all the time, they really are screwed. what, were those gun turrets just for show? he’ll be out of there in a blink of an eye once he finally feels like it

and now we’re cutting to the cells and I’m preeeeetty sure this is AFO talking with Stain here

Chaplin sounds like some redpill prick if you ask me

also I’m not quite sure but did they just confirm that Chaplin is Gigantomachia’s true identity?

I just went and checked JBox’s translation and they made it seem like Giganto is Chaplin’s subordinate. which can’t be right because we know he’s AFO’s. serves me right for trying to verify something with JBox. I’ll just check Caleb Cook’s twitter after this and see what his thoughts are

-- wait hold up. now it looks like the guards talking. maybe JBox was right after all

(ETA: okay I wasn’t able to check Viz’s version to verify, but I think this is actually the guards talking and the correct translation should be “he’s his direct subordinate,” with him being All for One. the original Japanese line was “直系の部下だ” which basically means “he is [their] direct subordinate” without actually clarifying whose subordinate they are, so it’s a bit confusing when you don’t know who’s talking. anyways!!)

anyway so they’re saying that AFO has tons of other followers still in hiding and that it’s not just the league. and that they have to be careful not to provoke them

eh, I’d say it’s worth the risk. these other villains ain’t shit compared to AFO and we all know it. but if you leave him alive, and he gets out and regains his strength and retakes his place at the head of them all, then we’re talking about an all-out war potentially

which is actually where I’m thinking the series might be headed though. at least for the final arc. so I guess we’ll see

um whoa

seriously?? you too?? oh shit what the hell is even going on

anyways so that’s the end. oh my god. the series is getting so good again. it’s actually been really good since the Endeavorhawks arc honestly. like we’re almost back at full steam again. big things are coming, we’re heading toward another huge arc, I can feel it, and I can’t wait

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, LINA! You’ve been accepted for the role of TROILUS with an FC change to Henry Golding. Admin Rosey: I am absolutely HOWLING. So, when I was writing Troilus, I was having an amazing time -- he’s so nuanced and seemingly superficial, but there are so many detailed facets that contribute to his happy-go-lucky attitude. He’s so utterly disarming and charming that, from the interview alone, I couldn’t help but swoon over him. Your development for him promises so much, from the sought-after revelation of Celeste’s infidelity to turning him into a hollow and hungry creature. I’m absolutely over the moon to be putting my precious boy into your hands, Lina. By all means, ruin us all. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Lina. Age | 26 Preferred Pronouns | She/her Activity Level | 5 – Med school honestly wipes the floor with me most days, so I can’t promise daily activity but as I’ve said before, I promise consistency and communication. I’ll request a hiatus if needed, and I won’t disappear or drop-out without warning.   Timezone | Finally back in EST (UTC-5:00) Current/Past RP Accounts | —

In Character

Character | Tomas Sabello -> Could I request an FC switch to ether Henry Golding or Godfrey Gao? I love Bob Morley to pieces but I’ve used him as an FC for long enough that I really struggle to dissociate him from the role I played. I think Henry fits Tomas’ gentle disposition best, but Godfrey has more versatility in terms of acting roles/expression which seems more in line with the mood in Verona and what he may eventually become… I dunno! I’ll leave it to you guys to choose the preferred alternate FC in the event that I do get accepted. I’d be happy working with either one.

What drew you to this character? | I really liked how opposite he is to Viv, honestly. He’s so enamored with emotion, and despite the fact that he’s an actor by trade, he’s an open book when it comes to anything that inspires feeling within him. I think Tomas loves the idea of love to such an extreme that there’s no thought to guarding himself from it. No amount of pride could keep him from offering his heart up, not even the threat of rejection. He takes and he takes, but he also gives to the people around him, indiscriminately; even to the most insignificant of passersby who’ve touched his life or inspired his creativity in some brief, ephemeral way. While Viv absorbs and safeguards whatever light she finds, Tomas reflects it freely back into the universe, and I really like that dichotomy.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

*∆* - Ignorance isn’t bliss, it’s oblivion: I’ll keep this point short and sweet; I want Tomas to find out about Celeste’s infidelity and for his heart to get absolutely shattered in the process. It could be sooner, later or whenever, but I think we’re all holding our breaths for that to happen in the story, and I’d love the opportunity to portray that.

*∆* - To fight one’s nature is a losing battle: This is a plot contingent on the arc of his relationship with Celeste and details pertaining to their marriage (how long it takes for him to find out she’s cheating on him, what they do with that information, if they divorce, etc.). But essentially, I’d like to show Tomas’ struggle with his own fidelity because in his bio, he strikes me as the sort of character that doesn’t settle on one lover easily. And he loves Celeste with every inch of his being and right now that’s what’s keeping him faithful, but I think that even if her infidelity isn’t revealed, eventually Tomas will start to feel the strain. He’ll notice the little signs along the way that hint that she doesn’t quite love him the way he loves her. I think those would put cracks in the marriage even if Isabella wasn’t in the picture. I’d like to explore those, and how little micro-tensions crop up in chronic relationships when one partner feels like they’re pulling all the weight. I want to dig into that and cast the lens on a quietly troubled relationship, and I want to see how far it pushes Tomas in response. Does he grow colder?  Does he seek intimacy elsewhere? Does he fall into the same temptation and cheat on Celeste, whether physically or emotionally? Let’s find out!

*∆* - Any way the wind blows: I’ve always imagined Tomas to be the unsettled sort, in all senses of the word. His loves have always been transient and fleeting, his decisions (both in leaving Rome and marrying Celeste) seem rash and impulsive… I think capriciousness is a trait of his that extends to all facets of his life. So one headcanon I have for him is that now that he’s on sabbatical from acting, he’d want to try his hand at something new. Activities or careers that he gets excited by every few weeks and actively chases until something changes and then he drops the ball and moves on, certain he’ll find his luck elsewhere. I think it’d be interesting to see him get into all sorts of mix-ups while catering to this instinct, and maybe unintentionally making himself a nuisance to other characters in their line of work in the rp. Just this over-excited dude picking up positions and then dropping them as if life’s his own picnic… It’s definitely going to rub some people the wrong way and I’m here to see it happen!

*∆* - The hardest of hearts:  … I’m intrigued by Tomas’ deep resentment of Roman Montague. His bio implies that it’s his acting experience which primes him to look at Romeo as if he’s also an actor, playing a part he doesn’t deserve. But I think it goes deeper than that. I think canonically, even, Tomas’ character seems to have a lot in common with Romeo from Shakespeare’s original, or at least, the earliest version of Romeo that we see. Lovelorn and lackadaisical, an innate predisposition for goodness, and yet undoubtedly leaving lovers a little carelessly in his pursuit of love, etc. So the way I see it, beyond his judgment of Roman as being unfit to rule, I think Tomas doesn’t like him bc he sees in Roman all of the same flaws he recognizes subconsciously in himself. It’s always easier to see our flaws through a mirror. I’m interested in seeing how far Tomas would go to spite Roman in order to avoid having to confront himself. The fact that Celeste is still tied to the Montagues would also be a continuous dilemma for Tomas, who dislikes both mobs. Depending on what plots come up, I might even entertain the thought of getting Tomas tied up in Capulet business, with the singular goal of bringing down Roman Montague.

*∆* - … Destroys itself in the end: In his bio, it’s alluded that Tomas took from both his parents when it came to his nature. He loved as frequently and as persistently as his mother, but destroyed those in his wake as surely as his father; leaving his path littered with broken hearts. I want to see that side of Tomas again. Except this time, instead of it being an accident of youth and of too much ignorance, I want it to be intentional. I feel like heart-break would leave him hollow and hungry, and I want to experience that side of him. I think his capacity for hurt is almost equally potent to his capacity for love, and that’s what makes him such a compelling character in my eyes.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Through a well-developed plot, yes.

In Depth

These interview chairs are always so stiff that Tomas has to wonder whether it’s intentional. Maybe it’s to keep him from falling asleep, but he’d never do that. He likes giving interviews for the most part. Of course, it was easier in his early twenties; when he had very little in the ways of a filter but was blessed with the circumstances in life that permitted him to get away with it. Oh, and an adoring audience. That always helped of course. These days, as a married man in a new city, he has to be more careful with his tongue.

That doesn’t make him any more careful with his smiles, however. And right now he’s aiming one of his most brilliant at the interviewer who’s already started asking him questions. They’re three minutes in, but she hasn’t returned any of his good cheer so far, and that’s uncommon. He’s remembered all his pleasantries, he’s been considerate enough in opening doors and waiting to be seated - but still, nary a smile. He doesn’t mind too much, but it makes his job so much more enjoyable when they do. And as a result, Isabella Gagliano is both a damper and a challenge. But before Tomas can engage her into lowering her defenses, she’s presented him with the next in a series of fan-chosen questions.

“What is your favorite place in Verona?”

”The Two Gentlemen. Certainly the best bottle of pinot grigio that I’ve ever had.” Tomas tells her, lips pressing together as sweetly as the juice from those sticky wine grapes. “You wouldn’t be remiss either if you tried the risotto al tastasal. That’s a real recommendation, you know?” He stage-whispers with a grin, “Off-the record.” But if Isabella takes note, he can’t tell.

The truth is, it’s a lie. A white lie, he consoles himself, because sometimes, the truth is too heavy a price to pay. The truth is that his favourite place in all of Verona is the recently abandoned Multisala Rivoli. It’s a cliche, he knows, an actor finding his second-home inside of a rundown movie-theatre. But it isn’t for the movies that he goes, nor out of any misplaced vainglory. Rather, it’s the promise of nondescript privacy that draws him like a bee to to honey. There, he can meet his new friends beyond the prying eyes of the media. There, he has a clandestine spot to escape the humdrum of the city for a few hours, alone with his thoughts. But it’s not a truth he’s ready to share, and moreover, the Montagues will like this answer better. It’s a nod to their territory; a little more promotion for their best-boasted restaurant. He refuses to join them, he refuses to share in their cause, but maybe sliding in such harmless tips will convince them to lay off of Celeste’s case and stop pressuring her to pressure him to join. Truth and politics don’t mix. Every time a video begins recording, Tomas is well aware of that. But above all, an actor must always remember his part.

“What does your typical day look like?”

“What, like a twenty-four hour play-by-play?” He asks playfully. “No one’s that interesting,signorina, I promise. I remember I was asked a similar question in an interview two or three years ago. I think it was for Sorrisi e Canzoni? Or maybe GQ…. Either way, it was a much more exciting answer back then. Plays, parties, private jets… ” Tomas reminisces fondly, but not fond enough to want to trade it in for his present. “I hate to disappoint, but it’s not the same anymore. I’m a married man on sabbatical now, remember??” He says, directing the question towards the camera before letting his gaze find Isabella once more. His life is quieter now, but happier too. “Not that it’s boring by any stretch. I’d recommend marriage, actually. I know it’s done wonders for me! But if I start talking about her and all the ways she’s changed my routine everyone will be rolling their eyes and complaining about cavities before this interview’s over.” Tomas chuckles, thinking of the myriad of ways his daily life has become synonymous with Celeste. What time she wakes, what time she leaves, when she comes home or when he gets to persuade her out of the house on little dates… He has a life outside of Celeste to be sure, but it’s only around her that he’s really reminded of what he’s working towards. Like Eros and Psyche, he thinks. He loves, but she sets fire to his love and gives it true sustenance. A future, a family, a very happy ending - That’s all he wants these days.

“What has been your biggest mistake thus far?”

He laughs at that, taken aback by the girl’s directness. “Is that really what it says on your sheet??” He cocks a brow, leaning forward as if to sneak a peek. “Damn… That’s harsh.” Sometimes, his fans seem like tiny mosquitoes; hungry for every teeny-tiny drop of his blood as they submit questions as invasive as these. “I have to think about that one…” Tomas admits with a bemused shake of his head. “I try not to think of my experiences as mistakes. Even the ones that might feel like it initially. Everything happens for a reason, doesn’t it? Don’t you believe that?” He looks to his interviewer as though hoping to coax another answer out of her, but she doesn’t indulge him. He’s always preferred dialogue to monologue, despite his choice of career. It takes an exchange of ideas to see the world through new lenses, and he can’t do that while talking continuously about himself. But another pensive, stolen glance at Isabella tells him that she probably won’t care what his answer is, so long as he gives one. He could make it up right here on the spot - something like ‘I’ve started a third gang in Verona to spite the Mobs‘ or ‘I kicked a dog once’, and she probably wouldn’t bat an eyelash. He wonders why. He wonders why she’s so determinedly expressionless.

“Do you play Poker?” Tomas asks without warning. He hadn’t meant for that to come out of his mouth but somehow it does and it takes another laugh and a wave of his hand to dismiss it. “Sorry. But you could! It’s impressive actually - in a good way. To answer your question, I think I’ll have to keep this one to myself.” It’s apologetic but firm, because his biggest mistake is failing his parents. Of all the roles he’s played thus far, that of ‘son’ has always left him most wanting. He couldn’t fix their marriage. He couldn’t inspire their divorce… To this day, his adulterous mother and destructive, ill-tempered father remain tethered to each other. Two rusting anchors, weighing themselves down to the bottom of the sea-bed… Most days, Tomas tries hard not to think about it. But there are some moments, moments when he’s feeling low, that he wonders if he’s responsible for their unhappiness; wonders if he couldn’t have done more to help them find happiness, along the way. Today is one of the predetermined no-thinkdays though. The days he’s giving interviews always are. “Sorry about that… Got anything else on your nifty list?” He prompts her, hoping to move on to a happier topic.

“What has been the most difficult task asked of you?”

This question too, gives him pause. More than he’d like. There’s the shadow of fleeting suspicion as he steals a glance at Isabella, wondering if they’re posing these questions on purpose to throw him off. But what cause would a reporter have to do that? You’re being silly,he chides himself, mulling over the question. Again, he knows the real answer.

Commitment.

It isn’t easy to choose a single person in this life, Tomas thinks. To narrow his expansive romantic inclinations and promise them to one individual and one individual only. But it’s a choice he reminds himself of every morning when he wakes up, when he cracks an eye open only for his gaze to fall on the familiar comfort of Celeste’s blazing red hair, like a halo around her cherubic face. It’s a choice he must remember when he’s comparing paintings with Juliana and hears the clear-bell tone of her laughter echo in the museum. A choice he must remember when his fingers find the soft, unwritten skin beneath Santino’s wrist as they look for stars in a midnight sky. A choice he recalls even as he listens to Paola recount the tales he’s missed in her life; eyes dancing with ferocious passion and he thinks what if, what if…

… But it’s a struggle he dares not reveal. It would insult his beloved wife, it would make a mockery of the vows they took in front of that altar, all those months ago. Worse still, it would surely garner derision from the audience, especially from his most die-hard fans; some of who still count on the failure of his marriage in order to regain the bachelor fantasy they’d attached to their idol. But idols were effigies of gold and silver. He was not an idol, he was a man of flesh and blood and feeling. Do you understand?… You will never understand me like she has, he wants to rebuke them. But there’s an old fondness that he can’t help when it comes to those who loved him first. And so his countenance softens as he answers the reporter’s question. “The most difficult task for me, has been leaving behind all my loved ones in Rome. My friends, my family, my fans…” He presses his fingertips to his lips for a moment before waving them towards the camera, sending the kiss to those who’ll hope for it most, when the interview airs tomorrow night. “I send my love, and I’m humbled by your continued support.”

“What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?”

“It’s-… It’s insanity.“

Now the Montagues won’t like that. But he feels the answer so strongly, and with so much conviction that he thinks the glassy brightness in his eyes would betray him anyway. Some lies are too big to swallow, even for an actor. “Brutal and unnecessary - do they even remember what they’re fighting for?” He asks Isabella, though he thinks she’s probably no closer to answering that than the other Veronesi. “You know, the stories say that it’s been so many decades now that no one knows any more… Isn’t that silly? To fight over something that you can’t even remember?” But deep down, Tomas knows it’s not that simple. Because mobs don’t need an impetus; not when there’s so much profit to be made in criminality. All the rest is just stories, to play on the sympathies of a winsome public. He should know… He played on that same, guileless sympathy, night after night after night on a front-lit stage. But art is one thing, war is another. And Celeste is tied up in this war, much as he hates to think about it.

“Maybe I’ll go back to Rome one of these days,” Tomas announces abruptly, shifting upright in his chair. There’s an ardent gleam in his eyes because he likes thinking in maybes. They’re so much more satisfying than the limitations of what is or isn’t strictly possible. “I’d like to take my wife with me. She’s never been… Can you believe it?? Never been to Rome… We could start there, then maybe a tour of Europe. Maybe a second honeymoon. I’m sure she’d like that.” He doesn’t know if that’s true, he doesn’t know if he can ever return to Rome, but it has a romantic ring to it nonetheless. And when has Troilus ever been able to deny the sweet-nothing whispers of romance, even as a city tears itself apart around him?….

Never, he thinks… Not even then.

——————————————-

(Thank you for Reading!!)