#and his actor isn’t hot enough to do it for me so I will simply not watch it

[wanderthefens]

Unpopular opinion but if the 3rha live action ever comes out I won’t watch it because I think the guy they got to play CWN is kinda ugly lmao. Like cwn is my blorbo I need him to be played by someone hot and this guy just ain’t it.

[ataraxiaspainting]

chrollo & nobunaga reacting to the gf tax ( they want a gf so bad that comes at a cost of food being stolen of their plate)

i'm sorry this concept is fucking hilarious. 😭

Yan Chrollo + Yan Nobunaga / The Girlfriend Tax.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, some infantilization from Nobunaga, and mentions of violence against the reader/other people.

Word Count: 1k.

*~*~*~*

Chrollo

“What is the matter, dearest?”

If you didn’t know him as well as you do now – which isn’t a lot, but it still counts for something; probably, someway, somehow – you’d think that Chrollo is attempting to be concerned about you. Attempting to be kind, attempting to be content, attempting to be something so human and real. But you unfortunately knew better now.

He wasn’t concerned; he was simply losing the patience you thought was as infinite as the number of stars in the night sky.

You don’t answer him until his grasp on your chin feels more like a pinch than a sweet caress. Despite him having short nails, you can swear that if you simply move away one more time his thumb will cut you and you will bleed. Perhaps he is more of an animal than something like you and thus perhaps he will lick your wounds clean.

Perhaps he will eat you if he smells your intoxicating scent.

“I have done as you requested, have I not?” He stares at you with such intensity, like he is one second away from biting your head off. “Why do you continue to resist?”

You’re not sure how to answer him, how to make up for the fact that you haven’t done anything affectionate towards him all evening. Kisses, nice words, sitting on his lap, helping him make the dinner that you requested; none of that.

None of what you promised, while Chrollo put his whole heart into the feast set in front of you two. He did his part. You haven’t done yours, and you flinch at potential consequences that are shown through your imagination.

You fucked up. Big time. To put it plain and simple.

“[First].” Chrollo never says your name unless you step way out of line – and even then, you’ve never heard his tone be more irritated than now. At least he isn’t fully angry, and at least he isn't going to threaten you with violence – that role was always reserved for how he treats your loved ones and how his friends treat your loved ones. “You know I never make deals that don’t benefit me, correct?”

Something slips from your mouth before your brain can stop it – it’s a survival instinct maybe, somehow. 

“I’m scared.”

Chrollo’s gaze seems to soften at that; this isn’t the first time that you had voiced such concerns when you are forced into doing ‘couple activities’ with your captor, and this isn’t the first time Chrollo stops what he is doing to assess the situation at hand. But still, this all feels so unfamiliar to you, like a show put on pause because you weren’t a good enough actor for the director and the audience.

His hand moves from your shoulder and there it stays. It’s so cold, but the hot food warms you up. At least you think.

“We can still take it slow. We are still in our… beginning stage, after all.” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and suddenly all the fear comes back. 

But that wasn’t the intention, was it?

Nobunaga 

“You aren’t understanding me.”

You put your bare feet onto the front of the chair’s cushion and scoot yourself back until your spine is pressed against the wooden frame. You tuck your knees underneath your chin and bend forward hugging the lower part of your legs.

In front of you was the same type you were always given, but even more of it – brown sludge with something on the side so disgustingly green it couldn’t possibly be a plant and halfway-cooked grains of rice. You asked for takeout instead of Nobunaga’s cooking. Well. You requested it nicer than that. You said that bonding during mealtimes was the easiest way to progress a relationship. You gave some meal ideas; pizza, ramen, stir fry; anything but the alien food he gives you daily.

Nobunaga still has some of the rice in his mouth, chomping away without a care in the world. The sounds are so loud, so painful, that you are tempted to ask him how he could just eat raw rice.

“Yes, I do,” His words are muffled, gnat-sized pieces of broccoli coming out of his mouth as he talks. 

“Why can’t you get something else?” You whine – it’s a desperate sound that comes out of your mouth more regularly now, not that you know why. “To… change the pace a bit.”

You added the last part not to sound rude – you’ll get sent to the bedroom right away for a ‘time out’ if you sound too aggressive again.

“There is a change to it, sweetie.” Nobunaga shakes his head, a tsk leaving his lips. “I added some spinach to the rice. Can’t you see it?”

You must remember that with Nobunaga, you must pick and choose your battles; whether that be not protesting to wearing a skirt that seems a few tads too short or refusing his kisses and touches that felt so cold and slimy somehow despite you knowing that he is human and he is made of the same things you are made of.

Somehow he is human, but he is stronger than you ever will be.

The way he broke your heels months ago, the way he punched and kicked his way through a building to get to you during an escape attempt, the way he restrains you to the bed when you are being too rowdy even for his tastes… They are all proof of that.

So… So… So…

So… So…

So…

So… you slurp up the somehow simultaneously wet and raw rice into your mouth and close your eyes, wishing to be anywhere but here.

[aranarumei]

tenma sumeragi’s genuinely one of my favorite characters in a piece of media ever and it’s still difficult to quite explain why. like with other characters I love—take yuki from the same game, for example, I can boil down the main parts of why I like them at least fairly succinctly… with yuki I love that his crossdressing isn’t a joke but a sincere expression of his love of fashion, and that he’s both insightful and cutting and vulnerable in a way that middle schoolers can be. (okay i can tell this will get long so the rest under the cut)

but for tenma, it’s like the way that I adore him is a… collection of little details? like, I simply become more charmed over time… or something.

he’s closed off and pompous at the beginning, all while carrying a deep sense of earnestness even from the start—though he acts like he’s hot shit, he auditions for mankai out of his deep respect for sakuya adlibbing and a desire to improve himself. even as a popular child actor inheriting the legacy of famous movie stars, it’s clear he’s got his own deep appreciation for acting as well as his own personal standards.

like, even in the beginning, when he’s got a low opinion of his cast mates, he’s respectful of yuzo’s critique. and later we see that when he doesn’t get the part he wanted for this amazing audition, he acknowledges his own faults and understands he has room to grow. for someone who is frequently irritable and always bickering with yuki, there’s a startling kind of maturity when it comes to acting. and it’s part of why summer troupe is so good for him—as much as he is their leader, he also gets to act like a kid!

he’s stupid and sheltered enough to be scared off by fireworks, but he’s insightful when it comes to acting, which it’s clear he’s studied very much. and he’s scared of ghosts, but he’ll head back to face his father all on his own with quiet resolution, making a blog post so that he’s literally unable to back out from the show, and no one else can make him do so. rather than refuse to sell tickets under the weight of his star power, he adores mankai so much that he’s willing to sacrifice that pride of his, because summer troupe is the one thing that he can’t let go. and he returns with a black eye because his father punched him, but simply brushes it off.

I think what really gets me is like… for someone whose life has been characterized by loneliness, he’s earnest and sincere and loving. it’s him that takes the initiative to step forward and change himself. and when he does, and makes the first proper friends of his life, it’s that connection that allows him to learn how to adlib so wonderfully and successfully.

maybe what I appreciate most is that for all the dramatic elements in tenma’s life, and his in-your-face loudness every once in a while (hear him squawk about some injustice or whatever) he’s actually quite a reserved guy? but I never feel that I can’t see the depths of his love for the people that he cares about, as well as the passion he holds towards acting. there’s lots of little details, though… I feel like I haven’t even touched on half of them!

[sehtoast]

Homelander x m!reader smut drabble from a much longer fic I'm still writing

!please note, Y/n is written as a pre-bottom surgery trans man. otherwise, the vast majority of Y/n's physical descriptors (eye color, hair color, etc) are kept to a minimum for the sake of reader inclusivity- and also lmao i basically stole spiderman for Y/n's supe identity, so there are some references to that

first time publishing anything, so i hope it's decent lol. that said, special thank you to @blindmagdalena for inspiring me to finally write a fic :D

“I can imagine.” Y/n was idly rubbing his thumb in circles on John’s chest.  The two of them were naked as the day they came into the world, cuddled up on Homelander’s leather couch, long after having had a bout of lazy afternoon sex.  Y/n insisted on covering the both of them with a blanket, even though John ran hot enough to act as a little space heater.

“This scene took so many takes.  The director was being fucking ridiculous,” John explained, motioning to the TV from where he was laid back on the couch.  Homelander insisted that Y/n watch one of his several movies with him, and still could hardly believe the web-head had never once watched one in its entirety.

It was rare for the two of them to ever spend time in John’s place.  It was so spacious, and every corner had a marble sculpture of some Greek or Roman figure. The overbearing wall that was nothing but a massive American Flag failed to entice a cozy atmosphere.  But the TV was huge, and John insisted his movies required a wide screen.

The film transitioned to an obvious fan service scene, featuring a ‘shirtless’ Homelander sporting a set of rippling muscles- wildly different than what was really under the suit.  Y/n felt John tense up as he immediately started to fast-forward through the depiction.

“I forgot about that…” he seethed, jaw set tight.

Homelander was deeply insecure about his body.  He’d spent a lifetime masquerading as a man with an Adonis-like figure, with a suit that painted the picture of rock solid pecs, bulging biceps and triceps, and washboard abs.  Somewhere along the line of losing his secret identity, he’d also lost sight of the fact that masquerading is all being a Vought Hero really is.  This was theater.  Hell, even Y/n’s super suit had some design tricks to make him look more cut than he really was.  John once expressed that he’d done everything he could to build muscle, to live up to the standard Vought had created for him, to be built like the god he was designed to be, but failed miserably.  His body simply wouldn’t bulk, and this failure cut him like a knife every time Vought ordered his muscle padding be made even more dense.

It broke Y/n’s heart when John expressed that he was the first lover to ever see him fully undressed and not react like a jackass.

----------

“Talking about hard things is how we get better at dealing with them.” Y/n quoted his childhood therapist, holding on gently to John’s hands.  It was only their second time making love, and they’d had to halt the process when John jerked away at Y/n’s attempt to remove the top of his suit.  “I won’t ever force you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, okay?  But, please. Talk to me.”

John bit his lip, and if he were built like a normal human, it would have bled from the force.  He shook his head, blinking rapidly the way he does when it was time to confront something he didn’t know how to deal with.

“No one’s ever…” He trailed off, looking down at himself.  “My body isn’t… it’s not fucking good enough.”

Y/n remained quiet, only raising an eyebrow to encourage him to elaborate.

“I’m supposed to be- I should be shredded!  Strongest man in the world and I’m like a fucking twig.  How do you explain that?”  He was rambling.  “I can’t even get bigger, I’ve tried- fuck I’ve tried!  A-all these actors, they roll up to set looking better than me in every way and all I can do is run around in fake fucking rubber muscles to match them!”

Y/n watched him from the spot beside him on the bed, still holding tight to John’s hands, hoping it provided at least something steadying for him.

“I took it off one time, for Madelyn- years ago… I’ll never forget the way she fucking laughed at me.”  His words were bitter and angry, but the way he was only looking down at himself let Y/n know that all of those feelings were directed at himself.  He felt, truly, that he was the root of the problem.  “You’re the only one who’s ever-”

He was cut off by Y/n pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

“I think you are so, so beautiful.”  Y/n murmured, looking directly into John’s eyes.  “And you don’t need to be built like a Greek god to be that way, I promise.  You’re perfect the way you are, and I will tell you every day if I have to.” 

----------

Y/n was distracted from the memory at the feeling of John pulling him in for a deep, desperate kiss.

“Tell me again,” John breathed out.  

Y/n was all too happy to oblige, and swung a leg over top of Homelander to straddle him.

“You’re gorgeous, John.  You’re ethereal in every way.  And you’re so strong, you’re so handsome, and those eyes of yours just…”  

John swallowed hard, his mouth slightly agape. 

“Let me show you…”

John’s pupils were already blown black, and he nodded in anticipation.  Y/n leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, kissing down to his neck, where he licked a stripe over John’s pulse only to blow a gust of cold air over the wet trail.  Homelander shivered and gulped.

“I love the way your adam’s apple moves when you swallow hard.  I love the way it lets me know how excited you are…”

Y/n rubbed John’s shoulders as he sucked hard at the base of his neck, despite knowing he couldn’t leave a mark.  He pulled away with a nip at the skin, clenching in pleasure at the little moan that left John’s mouth.

“-and these shoulders.  So firm…”  Y/n’s hands smoothed down the expanse of John’s chest, fingers moving to alternate rolling at his nipples and massaging the flesh of his pectorals.  “This strong chest- the way it heaves with every breath when you’re enjoying yourself…”  John whined and keened at the way Y/n played with him, grinding his hips up to seek any kind of friction he could find.  His face was flushed and his breaths were coming out in short, excited bursts, while his hands ran up and down Y/n’s thighs.

He about lost his fucking mind when Y/n’s tongue laved over one of his nipples, scraping his teeth gently over the tender bud.  

“You’re so gorgeous when you’re like this. All hot and needy.”

Y/n kept at it, playing with John’s chest until he was sure the all-powerful supe would be on the verge of over-stimulation.  He reached down, grabbing John’s left hand, and cradled it in his own.

“And these hands...  These strong, wonderful fingers. The way they always feel so good inside me- how worked up I get just seeing them,” Y/n slipped John’s thumb into his mouth, sucking up the length of it, curling his tongue around the digit to tease what, and who, was to come.

Homelander’s mouth gaped open at the way Y/n worked his tongue, and he was desperately excited to feel the same treatment around his shaft.

“Please…” John groaned out.  Y/n rocked his hips, dragging his wetness over John’s stiff cock in the process.

“Mmm, please what?”  Y/n inquired sultrily, finger still in his mouth.  “I’m not done with you yet.  Not until you know and feel just how fucking lovely you are.”  Every word of Y/n’s last sentence was accentuated with a roll of his hips.  “Roll over.  Put that ass in the air for me.”

Y/n was quick to get a handful of both of John’s cheeks as soon as he steadied himself on the couch, kneading the flesh in his hands, parting them to reveal his hole.

“I said,” Y/n blew a gust of air against John’s opening. “I was going to show you, and oh, I meant it.”  

John moaned out wantonly when he felt Y/n lick from his sack to his hole, and he buried his face into the seat of the couch to stifle his noises.  His eyes clenched shut at the feeling of Y/n’s tongue circling around his opening, and he couldn’t help but rock back toward the wet intrusion.  

Y/n focused his full attention into eating John out, thrusting his tongue in and out as the opening got looser only to trail back down and gently suck at his balls.  The sounds coming from him were driving Y/n absolutely fucking wild, and it took all of his self control to keep his hands focused specifically on John, on solely his pleasure.  This moment was all for him, and every ounce of focus Y/n had would go into it.

“I love the sight of your ass in that costume.  Every time your cape billows just enough for me to see it, I wonder how it would be to tongue fuck this hole of yours.”

Y/n caught the sight of John reaching to stroke at himself.

“Ah, ah, ah.  Hands behind your back, John.”

He immediately obeyed.  Y/n continued his wet torture of John’s hole, wondering to himself how he ended up being the lead in their sex life.  He always imagined it would be Homelander who pinned him down and fucked him raw- and sure, it did happen on occasion, but John was just so malleable when he was like this.  He was easy to command, and he fucking loved to be bossed around in bed, whether he’d admit it or not.

Y/n slipped the tip of his spit-soaked index finger inside, and John gasped out.

“Shh, it’s okay.  I’ll go slow.  Just let me know if you need me to stop.”  It was always good to let Homelander know he still had full control over what was done to him.  Y/n was more than happy to fulfill John’s needs, but always wanted him to know he retained his autonomy.  Always.

Y/n slowly fucked John with his finger, crooking it just slightly to rub against that sweet spot inside.  The sofa cushion was absorbing most of John’s noises, but Y/n coaxed an especially loud moan out of him the first time he’d brushed against his prostate.

“You know I love it when you're noisy. Be a little louder for me?”

And oh, did he do so.  Homelander turned his head to the side, eyes clenched shut and hands still locked behind his back as he rocked back onto Y/n’s finger to fuck himself harder, moaning with each stroke.

“A-ano-ther,” he gasped out, and Y/n gently added his middle finger to the mix.

It went on like that for a few minutes longer, Y/n kneading at John’s cheeks with his free hand while he fingered him with the other, until he’d decided John had done more than enough waiting.

“On your back for me, please.”  Y/n instructed, and John immediately moved, whining when Yn’s fingers left his body

“Mmm, there it is,” Y/n murmured, running a light finger’s touch up and down the length of John’s cock.  It was painfully hard, the head dark and soaked from the sheer amount of precum that had been worked out of him.  Y/n looked up into John’s eyes, taking note of the trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, the desperate expression plastered on his face.  He was gorgeous.  

“You look like a fucking painting right now.” Y/n emphasized with a stroke of John’s cock, working a breathy moan from him.  It was time to really lay it on.  “Look at that cock, so big, so hard, just for me…  The biggest I’ve ever seen. The only one I ever want.” 

John’s eyes practically rolled back into his head with each word of praise.

“What are you?”  Y/n teased.

“I-I’m beautiful.”  John stuttered, his words slurring.

“Say it again.”  

“I’m beautiful!”  

And with that, Y/n leaned down to drag his tongue from the base to the tip, his idle hand reaching down once more to work his fingers into John’s hole.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” He gasped out, singing the intensity of his pleasure into the room while Y/n sucked at him slowly, moaning around his hardness each time it hit the back of his throat just to come back up and roll his tongue all around the tip.  Y/n began to thrust his fingers faster, taking special care to only just miss John’s prostate with each pass.  “Plea- I- Oh, fuck, I- Y/n!”

John began thrusting his hips, fucking Y/n’s mouth and simultaneously thrusting himself back onto the fingers in his ass.  Y/n buried them deep, rubbing against John’s sweet spot, relishing in the downright obscene noises coming from the world’s strongest man, who he’d reduced to a sloppy, needy mess.

He gagged around Homelander's length with each hard thrust, until the final push where John screamed out his orgasm, shooting it down Y/n’s throat while his body went stiff as a board in pleasure, hole pulsing around Y/n’s fingers.  A sudden beam of heat escaped his eyes, charring the ceiling before he could clench them shut in time.  “H-hah, I- Oh god, Y/n- fuck-”  He rambled out endlessly, rocking against the fingers inside him through each wave of his pleasure.  Y/n reached down with his free hand to massage at his sack, feeling the skin close to his perineum still pulsing from his earth shattering orgasm.

Once John had come down from his high, Y/n moved up to kiss him, probing his mouth with his tongue, all just to make him taste how delicious his release was.

“Mmm…” Homelander moaned out when Y/n moved back.

“Y’know," Y/n breathed out a little laugh. "I’d be happy to keep proving this to you, over, and over, and over again. If you'd like, of course.”

John looked up at him deviously, his movie long forgotten in the background.

“My turn.”

[use-your-telescope]

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 12: Shiny Celebrity Skin

Summary: Theo makes her celebrity debut, with some unexpected results.

Author's Notes: Okay, I grappled with this one for a while - I tried for so long to figure out how to make a certain plot thread work without a certain celebrity appearing at least once or twice, and well… I couldn’t do it. So, uh, I feel weird doing this, but there is a brief interaction with a  fictionalized(!!!) version of Taylor Swift. This is almost guaranteed to be the only chapter where she actually appears in a scene - there are a few mentions of things happening “off-screen” that she’s a part of later on in the story, but it’s not anything that would involve her actively appearing in a scene.

Obviously I do not know her, I do not own her likeness, and I absolutely do not own her music (I’m team Taylor’s version - WE DO NOT LISTEN TO STOLEN MUSIC IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!). And more obviously, Theo is a fictional character who did not help record any of Taylor’s music. And to make it painfully clear, Taylor is not a villain or a hero in this story, and this isn’t meant to be a commentary on her as a person in any way, shape, or form. 

And look, I know some people are not a fan of Taylor. If you’re in that camp, don’t worry! The interaction is brief, and it’s not meant to make you change your mind. Just hang tight - I *promise* this will be worth it in the long run. 

If you enjoy, please reblog!! I'm a lil' blog and reblogs really help me out <3

Content Warnings: alcohol consumption. Discussions of hooking up. 

Word Count: 5,644

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: Celebrity Status - Marianas Trench

I look around, round, look around and look it over, I take it up- up, take it out and, take you nowhere, Trading in who I've been for shiny celebrity skin I like to push it and, push it until my luck is over It never stop stops, never stops, well you better, Think it over prima donna you don't want to sever, All the work to impress, charming girls out of their dresses, And smiling pretty, well pretty will swallow you forever

The celebrity status that came with being an Avenger was exhausting.

Between their public relations team micromanaging every interaction with the press and the constant appearances, it was a wonder there was enough time to actually go on missions. Even if Theo was well-versed in interacting with people in positions of power and putting on a show, it wasn’t how she really wanted to spend her days off.

They had been on a roll - last week, Theo did interviews and cover shoots for two different magazines. The day before, she recorded a 73 questions video for Vogue. In a week, she would fly out to Chicago and feature on Hot Ones.

But before she flew to Illinois, she had a late show appearance to get through. 

It wasn’t until after she arrived and they had a meeting with the production team to run through the order of the show that Theo discovered she was not simply doing a live interview, but she would also be chatting with Chris Anders, an A-list actor who was promoting his newest movie in which he played a combat medic. 

Normally Theo wasn’t thrown off by meeting other celebrities, but even she had to admit she was a bit starstruck. He always looked dreamy in pictures, but in real life he was gorgeous. Like, earth-shatteringly stunning. Bright blue eyes, blond hair, and tanned skin made him the epitome of an all-American guy; if Steve ever traded in his shield for an acting career, he’d probably look like Chris. Theo didn’t typically have a thing for blond guys, and frankly the resemblance to Steve Rogers should have made him appear less attractive, but well… There was something about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

At least Theo knew she was dressed to kill. The outfit she chose was a far cry from her scrubs: a black cropped tee with a cropped lace bustier underneath paired with an asymmetric leather midi skirt, all Alexander McQueen, and black Louboutin pumps. The confidence boost that came from looking like a badass was much needed, because even Avengers could get nervous when talking to attractive celebrities, particularly when those Avengers were single. 

In real life, Chris was every bit as funny and charming as he seemed. He laughed at Theo’s jokes and asked questions that made Theo wonder if he had taken the time before the taping to learn more about the sorceress. On camera, the conversation was effortless, lighthearted, and just a bit flirtatious; far from what Theo was used to, but it was fun. Chris was a hit with the audience, but it’d be hard not to be with a smile like his.

So when Chris stopped by Theo’s dressing room after taping and asked for her phone number, she was only slightly surprised. Surprised, because well, A-List Hollywood dreamboat who could have anyone he wanted, and he was asking Theo for her number? Theo, with scars on her face and knobby knees and perpetual bags under her eyes? But not as surprised as she could have been, because the conversation was fun and besides, giving him her number didn’t mean there was any commitment. For all she knew, he simply wanted to keep her number handy in case he was cast as a doctor in the future and needed to ask someone about how to approach the role. 

Of course she gave it to him - that was a no-brainer. Not long after, Theo found her heart fluttering when Chris texted her before she even made it back to the tower, asking if she would be attending the Stark Industries charity gala the following evening. 

After such a successful day, there was an extra spring in Theo’s step when she entered the living room. She nearly didn’t notice Loki, lounging with his feet propped up on the sofa and a book in hand, but when she approached one of the chairs so she could sit down and kick off her heels she spotted the prince.  

Loki glanced up from his book, offering Theo a weary smile and nod; if the bags under his eyes were any indication, he hadn’t been sleeping much lately. 

“You’ve returned from your interview; how was it?” 

“It was fine,” Theo shrugged, ducking down to tug off her high heels. “I mean, it’s one thing to give an interview, but they also asked me to do a segment with Chris Anders - the Chris Anders.”

“Ah, yes - if memory serves, he is a well-known actor.” Loki absentmindedly replied, closing his book and setting it aside. “I take it you are a fan of his work?”

“It’s impossible not to be a fan - he's been in just about every major film from the last few years.’ Theo lightly scoffed at Loki’s apathy about the situation. “We watched one of his movies the other day.” 

“Did we?”

Before Theo could answer, Wanda, Sam, and Bucky strolled into the living room, deeply entrenched in a spirited debate.

“— his performance is so nuanced - a video game could never capture that level of emotion!” Wanda huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest as both Sam and Bucky rolled their eyes. 

“Nuance, Schmuance—“ Bucky retorted, “—the whole point of the game is to shoot aliens! The story didn’t need emotions - all it needed were more aliens!”

“Are the three of you still arguing about your animated game?” Loki interrupted them with an exasperated sigh, massaging one temple with his index finger. “I thought the debate had been settled after viewing the film.”

“Well it was,” Wanda replied, “until they tried to say that the actor playing Tom was probably an asshole. But he couldn’t be - he seems way too nice!”

“Remind me, Maximoff - which actor are you fawning over now?” Loki begrudgingly asked, as if he dreaded the answer.

“—Chris Anders.” Theo rolled her eyes, though she softened the gesture with a smile. “He’s probably the most popular actor in Hollywood right now.” 

At that, Loki perked up rather suspiciously. “The one you met today?” 

“Oh my god, that’s right—“ Wanda exclaimed, turning to Theo. “— You were on the late show with him! How was it? Is he nice in real life?”

“I think it went well?” Theo answered. “I had just finished telling Loki that I ended up filming a segment with Chris and didn’t bomb it, so I’ll call that a win.” 

Loki nodded, flashing Theo a small, timid smile. “Well, I’m certain you charmed the actor just as you’ve charmed the rest of us.” 

“Wait, wait, wait - you not only met Chris, but you interviewed with him?!” Wanda nearly squealed, her mouth agape as she processed the news. “I would have died!”

“You know he’s just a guy, right?” Bucky grumbled, looking wholly unimpressed with Wanda’s fangirling.

“Look, I’ll settle for not putting my foot in my mouth on national television.” Theo chuckled, before coyly adding: “Chris may have asked for my phone number though... And he already texted me to ask if he would see me at tomorrow’s gala.” 

In a tale of two reactions, Wanda looked like she was about to spontaneously combust from the shock and excitement, while Loki looked like someone just told him the sky was blue.

Then there were Sam and Bucky’s reactions in-between, which involved whooping and wolf whistles.

“It seems as though he was rather enchanted by you, then.” Loki cocked an eyebrow, jade eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Theo. “You certainly dressed to impress.”

The comment had some sort of undercurrent that, combined with his piercing stare, made the words seem as if they were not meant to be taken as a compliment. Theo’s heart went from fluttering to stuttering in her chest, her confidence faltering as if she were about to be knocked down from a pedestal.

“Is it too much?” Theo asked a bit too quickly for her own liking; she grimaced as she glanced down at her outfit. 

“No, not at all.” Loki slowly shook his head, tongue darting out to lick his lips. If Theo didn’t know better, she would have sworn his eyes darkened as they roved up and down her body. “It’s different from your typical attire, but pleasantly so. You look… ravishing.”

“Yeah, you look hot.” Sam agreed, elbowing Bucky in the chest as he smirked at him. “She looks hot, right Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll —“ Bucky smirked, “— You keep it up and you’re gonna end up with every guy in this city dreaming about all the things they’d like to do with you.” Despite speaking to Theo, Bucky’s attention and smirk were pointed directly towards Loki. 

Theo’s cheeks flared with heat - partly from Sam and Bucky laying it on thick, though mostly she was relieved that Loki was not criticizing the look. 

When his approval started to matter, Theo wasn’t sure, but she also hadn’t given it much thought. Then again, the prospect of Loki not liking her outfit stung more than the idea of her potential date not being into her outfit… If she was honest, Theo was nowhere near ready to try and make sense of that.

“You can’t leave us hanging - what did you tell him!?” Wanda, having regained her composure, asked the inevitable question. 

“That I was going to be there and a drink sounded nice?” For a moment, Theo wondered if Wanda was going to freak out again. Instead, a smile crept up on Wanda’s face, and Theo could tell something was up. “… Wanda, what are you planning?”

“Well if you’re meeting a movie star for a drink tomorrow, we should probably go shopping so you have something cute to wear…” Wanda perked up, winking at Theo. “Oh! We’ll get Nat to come too - she needs a break from the mat anyways -  and make it a girl’s day!”

Before Theo could point out that she already had a dress, Wanda rushed down the hall shouting for Natasha. Theo glanced at the others — Sam wore a shit-eating grin, while Bucky offered no sympathy. Loki just shrugged, though a glint of amusement reflected in his smile. 

Meanwhile, Theo tried not to scream what the hell did I just get myself into? 

Either way, it didn’t matter - she had a date to get ready for.

When the mirrors and the lights and the smoke clear I’d never guess how we ever could’ve gotten here You can say what you say, when the lights go down So shake, shake, shake and shut your mouth

“Champagne?” A waiter came around with a tray of champagne flutes, offering them to guests throughout the event.

“Yes, thank you.” Chris took two glasses, handing one to Theo and keeping the other for himself.

Across from her, Chris Anders leaned up against a cocktail table. Dressed in a navy slim-fit tuxedo, Chris looked every part of the charming A-List actor that Wanda hyped him up to be. The same charming, boyish grin from the night before was on full display as he drank in the sight of Theo in a black lace gown with beading that glistened and shimmered in the low lights. 

Even if she hadn’t been trying to charm an A-List actor, Theo would have felt like a million bucks. The dress, though more suggestive than what she initially picked, hit her in all the right places and really helped her embrace her more feminine side. The stilettos she wore gave her a precious few inches that made her less likely to feel like everyone towered over her, increasing her confidence.

In some ways, it felt like revisiting her first night in the tower, but this time she knew what to expect. The lack of constant scrutiny from Avengefs and reporters may have also helped. Then again, at the end of the day it turned out that charming people and rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful was pretty much the same, regardless of the realm. 

The idea of spending the evening at Chris’s side was both nerve-wracking and exciting. Theo’s consistent presence and conversation was enough to capture the interest of people she didn’t know, allowing Theo to flex her conversational skills and build her own connections, which in turn made the room full of socialites less surreal. 

Chris was more than easy on the eyes. He said all the right things to pique Theo’s interest. He didn’t ask too many questions, which was certainly a plus, and he easily kept the conversation flowing. With that in mind, Theo wasn’t opposed to cozying up a bit more with him. 

Yet, something in her stomach felt… off.

Maybe it had to do with the non-existent privacy at the event. Wanda, Sam, and Bucky had made a game of lurking nearby, spying on her as the actor talked Theo’s ear off about the film he just finished shooting. Focusing on Chris proved to be a challenge when her friends seemed hellbent on reminding Theo that someone was always watching. They weren’t even subtle about it – all Theo had to do was glance over Chris’s shoulder to see the three of them making kissy faces at her. 

Theo started to wonder if her teammates were going to walk up to Chris and start talking about their movie versus video game debate. She prayed they wouldn’t.

Then again, her friends were far from the only people who kept a close eye on the couple. Frankly, Theo hadn’t truly comprehended just how well-known Chris was until they spent the first two hours of the night constantly interrupted by people trying to get even a moment of the actor’s attention. Even Loki had been observing, though he was far more subtle than her other friends - subtle enough that Theo never noticed that she was the consistent focus of the younger Asgardian’s attention. 

The sensation of everyone watching her was incredibly different from the bars from her first night out with her teammates, when it was easy to fly under the radar. Between being seen with Chris, her rapidly growing social media following, and the recent interview spree, Theo certainly had no shortage of positive attention over the last few weeks.

Chris caught the attention of someone from behind Theo, gesturing for them to come over and join the pair. “Theo, I want you to meet–”

“I was wondering when I would run into you!” Even though it had been years, Theo recognized that voice anywhere. 

Then again, the fact that the voice belonged to the one person at the gala more famous than Chris meant that even if Theo hadn’t known her, she would have recognized the voice. “It’s been ages!”

“Taylor!” Theo spun around, arms already open to greet the popstar in an embrace. “How the hell are you?” In some ways, it was like Taylor hadn’t changed a bit since they worked together: the trademark red lip that highlighted a cheshire grin, long, blonde hair with perfectly disheveled blunt bangs, and an outfit that would undoubtedly sell out the moment pictures were posted online. At the same time, all it took was one close look into her crystal blue eyes to see that she was far different from the Taylor that Theo worked with all those years ago. 

“I’m great,” Taylor leaned back, still half-embracing Theo as she took in Theo’s appearance. “Tell me about you - Clearly you’ve been busy since we last crossed paths!”

“Oh you know, I finished med school. Joined the Avengers. Nothing too wild–”

“--You two know each other?” Chris interrupted the reunion, one brow arched in confusion while he wore a half-scowl as he quickly realized that this was not the introduction he anticipated.

“Oh yeah, Theo played on Red – we go way back,” Taylor answered, barely paying Chris any mind before returning her full attention to Theo. “Speaking of, you’ve heard I’m re-recording my first six albums, right? Would you be willing to re-record your parts on Red?”

The question caught Theo off guard, though in some ways, the request made sense; after all, the goal was to make the re-recordings sound like the originals so whenever someone wanted to license a song, they would have no reason to choose the old recording over the new one. 

But Theo’s parts on the original record were pretty small, all things considered. And up until Theo stepped into the limelight as an Avenger, it would have been much easier to find someone else to record those parts than it would have been to track her down. Besides, Avengers were busy, and so were international pop stars - Theo would have understood if Taylor didn’t want to bother trying to coordinate schedules so they could record together.

“I– uh, yeah – as long as the timing works out, I’m in,” Theo tried to play off her surprise, covering it up with a (hopefully) bright smile. “Just let me know when and where I need to be and I’ll do my best to make it happen!” 

“Perfect.” Before Taylor could say anything else, someone waved Taylor over to join them. She held up a finger, mouthing “just a moment” before returning her attention back to Theo. “Hey, we should grab a drink soon and catch up. Clearly you’ve been busy and I want to hear all about it, ideally when I’m not being dragged around to make appearances.” Taylor winked, taking hold of Theo’s shoulder as she leaned in and whispered in Theo’s ear. “I might have a separate proposition for you, as well…But we’ll save that conversation for another day.” She leaned back, smirked, and cocked an eyebrow at Theo. 

“You know where to find me,” Theo reminded her, returning a wry grin and a wink of her own. It was probably for the best that they didn’t go into catching up at that particular moment, since there was plenty to discuss and in front of Theo’s date was not the best place to do so.  

With that, Taylor waved at another person trying to get her attention and slipped away into the crowd.

“I wasn’t aware you already knew Taylor Swift.” Chris remarked, his attention still focused on the space where Taylor had vanished into the crowd.

“I’m full of surprises, what can I say?” Theo teased, taking a sip of her drink. 

“Well, I look forward to being surprised by you in the future.” There was something about the way Chris spoke that seemed a bit too smooth, too practiced. 

Then again, he was an actor. Performance was at the core of his work, and like Theo he probably reverted to his own acting skills in social situations, especially when he wanted to seem confident. And trying to impress someone on a date was certainly one of the times any sane person would want to feel confident.

“Hey, let’s go dance,” Theo suggested, gliding her fingers down Chris’s arm and taking his hand. As if a switch flipped, the dazzling grin returned as Chris gestured towards Theo to lead the way. Weaving between the couples on the dance floor, Theo waited until they were in the middle of the group before she turned back to Chris, who held his arms in a silent invitation to dance.

“You look stunning this evening,” Chris complimented, pulling Theo close as they moved to the music. “I’m lucky to have such radiant company.” 

Theo’s cheeks burned as she replied with a shy smile. Sure, she trusted her friends’ judgment about what to wear, but that wasn’t what left her flushed at his remarks. He was new, and the intensity of his gaze felt both intoxicating and dizzying amidst the crowd. When Theo looked closely, she spotted a hunger in Chris’s eyes that left her wanting more.

The night flew by. One moment, they were spinning and laughing among the crowd; the next, the DJ announced to guests that it was the last song of the evening. Whether they were ready or not, it was time for the festivities to draw to a close.

The end of the evening did little to dampen the conversation between Theo and Chris as they followed the crowd out the door; if anything, they both slowed down as they approached the exit, stretching out their time together for as long as possible.

Just after they passed through the exit, Chris took Theo’s hand and pulled her aside.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Chris whispered in her ear; his breath tickled, sending a delicious chill down Theo’s spine. “Go back to my place?” 

Behind Chris, Bucky smirked at Theo and Wanda gave her a thumbs up; if Chris hadn’t been watching her so closely, she would have rolled her eyes at the pair. Inevitably, they wouldn’t be the only people who noticed; after all, a plethora of eyes followed them all evening. 

A yes sprung to Theo’s tongue, but just before she said it out loud, she stopped. Realistically, Chris was a stranger to her - sure, she knew the basics about him — the kinds of things someone usually knew about a celebrity — but she didn’t know enough about him to comfortably let her guard down. Being a high profile celebrity was different from being an Avenger. 

For all she knew, he wanted to use her for something; after all, fame wasn’t all people made it out to be. Besides, people frequently sought after Theo’s magic. 

Restraint was best in the situation.

“I appreciate the invite, but I have to work in the hospital tomorrow morning,” Theo covered, her tone light and casual, but quiet enough that any eavesdroppers wouldn’t hear. “This was fun though - I’d love to go out with you again!”

Out of the corner of Theo’s eye, Loki slipped out of the party with dark eyes and a devilish grin. Trailing close behind, hand linked in his, was a woman who had to be a supermodel, based on her absolutely flawless figure, perfectly tanned complexion, and perfectly styled outfit. 

A pang of jealousy unexpectedly shot through Theo at the sight.

“Of course.” Chris immediately masked the split second of surprise on his  face with a polite, albeit benign smile. “It’s probably just as well, because I have to fly back to California tomorrow morning.”

Despite the rejection, Chris bid Theo goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, which certainly was a surprise. After all, she just turned him down; the last thing she expected was for him to be so… affectionate?

Once Chris disappeared from view, Theo took advantage of her familiarity with the tower’s layout to take a quieter route to her suite. quickly slipped away through a back hall The second she was out of sight from prying eyes, Theo let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. 

While Theo waited for the elevator, she couldn’t help but play the evening over in her mind. Chris was charming, handsome, and there was nothing wrong with him — why was she so hesitant? And what was up with her reaction to Loki?

Of course the silvertongue would be able to woo and bring home anyone he wanted without having to think twice about it. Maybe that was the cause of her jealousy — Loki didn’t have to overthink every interaction like she did. 

Shaking her head, Theo dispelled the thoughts of Loki hooking up with some random person; it wasn’t her business what or who he did in his spare time. 

Which brought Theo’s attention back to Chris. Her hesitancy around him didn’t seem like it was just because she didn’t know him very well; something else lurked underneath that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But as she thought about it, the only reason she came up with was that everything about Chris just seemed too perfect.

In the end, it wouldn’t matter; playing the role of an Avenger was supposed to be nothing more than a means to an end. At most, it would be temporary. Theo needed to remember that.

I wonder why, why, I wonder why, why I oughta, Let you wreck, resurrect whatever you want to I can't depend, in the end you know I thought you were my friend Just stop, just stop, just stop I think I got it Sorry you, sorry me, sorry every in between, Sorry everybody here will never be somebody clean There's a piece of me they're throwing back at us, And they will buy you and sell you for celebrity status

Despite the knowledge that it was smart to not bring a guy home after the first date, Theo woke the next morning and immediately wondered if she played it too safe.  Chris was friendly, charming, good looking, and didn’t act weird about her being an Avenger - how often would she encounter guys like that? Probably never, but Theo essentially turned Chris down. As Theo laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, she debated whether she should reach out to Chris or not. 

On one hand, he made her laugh; on the other hand, they wouldn’t see each other often with conflicting schedules. He was hot, but probably had fans who would hate on Theo for dating him. He was used to the spotlight, but dating an Avenger might put his safety at risk. They had a lot of common interests, but they hadn’t talked about any serious topics - what if he secretly believed in some kind of cult? He was an accomplished actor, but Theo couldn’t promise to be there for awards shows because monsters and criminals don’t believe in days off. 

Ugh, she did not miss dating.

After mentally making the pro-con lists in her head for the third time, she decided to hold off. If she texted him too soon, she might seem clingy; besides, even if he was perfectly nice and charming and fun to be around, that feeling of something being off still lingered.

Theo rolled onto her side and snatched her phone from her nightstand to check the time, only to find a message waiting for her.

“Had a great time last night - want to grab a drink next time I’m in town? - C”

Though pleasantly surprised, Theo held off on replying. If nothing else, she needed some coffee and to wake up more before deciding on how to respond. Outside her window, the sunrise covered the skyline in a golden glow – it seemed like it was as good of a time as any to head up to the roof and enjoy her morning coffee.

Stillness permeated the tower as Theo made her way to the kitchen. With the incredibly early hour and the event that took place last night, she fully expected to be the first person awake. However, a full pot of freshly brewed coffee indicated that someone else claimed the title of first person awake. Theo wasn’t going to complain - that meant all she had to do was find her favorite mug and fill it up before enjoying some peace and quiet outdoors.

Upon arriving on the roof, Theo discovered just who woke up before her: Loki. He sat on one of the sectionals with his back to her. Loose black curls tumbled past his shoulders, swaying slightly in the cool morning breeze.

“Great minds think alike.” Theo greeted him, taking a seat on one of the other sectionals.

Loki simply hummed in acknowledgement of her greeting before returning his gaze off into the distance.

For once, Loki didn’t have a book with him. Hands wrapped around his own coffee, he sat back in his seat, soaking up the relative peace of the morning. Like the morning on the balcony, the silence held no weight, no pressure to force conversation or entertain the other. In the city that never sleeps, something about early mornings - those moments between where one day ended and the next began - felt almost sacred. Speaking, it seemed, might ruin that. 

Amidst the stillness, Theo caught herself studying Loki’s facial features, contrasting the difference from when he slept to how he appeared in the soft morning light.

Of course, there were things that Theo noticed before – Loki’s sharp bone structure certainly topped that list. But that morning, she couldn’t help but notice new things: the hints of worry lines that crossed his forehead, the crease from furrowed brows (an expression which she imagined he’d perfected at this point, along with the eye roll), the way his lips pulled across his teeth when he was close to smiling, but wasn’t quite ready to commit.

Theo knew Loki, besides being Aesir in form, was technically a frost giant and a god, but Loki looked shockingly human as he relaxed on the rooftop. Even in his Aesir form, Loki often looked more divine than mortal. But here… Some was different here. He seemed softer, less guarded. Perhaps it was the way his shoulders relaxed, or the way he stretched out in the morning glow. 

“How was your evening?” Loki struck up a conversation, taking a sip of coffee.

“It was good,” Theo smiled, looking out across the roof. “How was your night?” 

“It was alright…” Loki trailed off, glancing briefly at Theo before returning his gaze to the skyline. “You were certainly the center of attention last night.”

“Me, or the A-List actor that I spent the night with?” Theo’s attention returned to the god sitting next to her.

Loki chuckled, and Theo caught herself appreciating the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I suppose both would be a fair answer. He was rather attractive, I must admit. If I had been in your position, I certainly would have brought him back to my quarters for the evening.”

Theo let out a gentle laugh, biting her lip. Yes, Chris was good looking, and he certainly piqued her curiosity… but she couldn’t shake the feeling in her gut that something just wasn’t right. 

“Are you going to see him again?” Loki finally turned to focus on Theo. His sea-glass eyes held her gaze with surprising openness. A hint of sadness colored his words; it was subtle enough that Theo couldn’t quite place what sounded off about his question. 

“Why, do you want to hit him up if I don’t?” Theo teased, offering Loki a wink. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

Loki gave her a wry smile, shaking his head. “Simple curiosity.” 

“He asked if I wanted to get a drink next time I’m in town…” Theo shrugged, finding herself less enthusiastic about the idea than she was when she first awoke. “I haven’t given an answer one way or the other yet. It was hard to really get to know him with so many people vying for his attention, so it would be nice to do something that wasn’t so… public? Then again, if we ended up dating, I doubt I would ever get any privacy again, so there’s that…”

Loki let out a breathless laugh. “Privacy is already in short supply when one is an Avenger.”

Nodding in agreement, Theo took another slow drink of her coffee.

“That’s true, but at least I can set boundaries and choose what I share with the world,” she pointed out, “I can shape the way people see me, how they see my role as an Avenger.”

“That is what we do in some ways, isn’t it?” Loki mused, his brows drawing together in thought. “Play roles?”

“All the world’s a stage and all the men and women are merely players…” Theo took a big swig of coffee, relishing the bitter taste that coated her tongue. “… Or some shit like that.”

Loki doubled over from laughter, eyes wide as he nearly spit out his coffee from surprise. It took a moment to return to his more composed self before he sarcastically replied: “Yes, or some shit like that.” 

The way he mocked her wording brought a grin to Theo’s lips. “Okay, but think about it — how much of our lives are spent playing roles? How often do we get to be ourselves without altering our behaviors because of others’ opinions? Even putting on a brave face or being diplomatic is playing a role.”

Loki pursed his lips, studying Theo carefully.

“How much time do you spend playing roles?” Even if the question wasn’t out of left field, it still felt much more serious than the conversation up to that point.

“More than I’d like,” Theo admitted, glancing down at her cup and swirling her coffee around. “But it has saved my ass enough times that I will never hesitate to do it if I think it will help me.” 

Theo bit the inside of her cheek, cursing herself for saying too much. The answer would probably come back to bite her in the ass, most likely in the form of Loki asking her a million follow up questions. 

Note to self: more coffee before any early morning personal conversations. 

“I suppose we have that in common, then.”

Much to Theo’s surprise, Loki left it at that, and returned his attention to the city around them. While Loki was known to be cunning, Theo got the sense that at its core, Loki’s answer was not rooted in cunning or manipulation, but survival.

And Theo understood that all too well.

Step one, step two, step three, repeat And I pray at the church of asses in the seats To disappear behind the beat…

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Hi! It's me again with my ramblings, I'm so sorry, but I realized something while re-reading the chapter!

This is the first time I've noticed this and I feel so stupid for not realizing it before but

"Johnny giggled sheepishly, taking Peter’s hand in his and holding it against his color-stained cheek. Beautiful, the Human Torch thought wistfully. Most people used far cruder language when complimenting Johnny’s appearance. While he’d never complain about being called “hot” or “sexy” or “seductive” by his fans, the press, or even Spider-Man, it softened something in him that the webhead admired him in a way so tender and sweet and innocent compared to what he was used to—and perhaps a tad less inappropriate and predatory."

"So this was what it was like to have your crush like you back. Johnny didn’t think he’d ever felt this happy in his entire life. He was no stranger to throngs of girls throwing themselves at his feet, tearfully professing how ardently they adored him—or worse, fellow celebrities of varying ages and professions cornering him at parties or in dressing rooms, their wandering hands and whispered promises sordid enough to send Sue on a sisterly killing spree if she ever found out; not that he’d tell her about that."

It's not just a coincidence, right? It's not the first time that Johnny's constant sexualization and harassment as a celebrity has been mentioned, even Peter mentioned it once if I'm not mistaken.

Is this something I should be prepared for? Don't get me wrong! I'd love it if you get to dig deeper into that part of his life, I just wanted to point it out. 😸

ohhh someone noticed 👀

okay here’s the thing. im still deciding whether or not im gonna go into anything super specific about it, but i feel like any person who gets shoved into the spotlight rapidly and from a very young age is often very tragically overly sexualized by the media, their fans, and adults already in the industry. i think there’s a lot of pressure for them to fill a certain role and meet certain standards even if that’s not in any way appropriate for their age. (justin bieber, billie eilish, pretty much the entire cast of stranger things, etc). despite sue’s attempts to shield him from it, johnny would no doubt be exposed to a lot of this being a 16-yr-old mega celebrity

another thing. i think a lot of young celebrities end up leaning into their own sexualization as a sort of defense mechanism / to feel like they’re in control of it, if that makes sense? like “you’re gonna sexualize me anyway, so i might as well do it to myself first.” and i think johnny is a bit of a victim of this. he does enjoy a majority of the attention that comes with being who he is, and maybe part of him doesn’t understand that it isn’t normal for people to look at him and speak to him the way they do, him being a literal child. this all happened so fast to him while he’s still like developing as a person that i think he just accepted whatever attention he received as positive and simply an occupational hazard of his new fame. being sought after and desired and hot is what everyone wants, right? and he’s a superhero; he can protect himself from any truly bad actors…even if he shouldn’t have to. i also think he kinda turns it into a joke and laughs off the bad side of being a 16 yr old “sex icon” to avoid having to think about how uncomfortable it actually makes him

anyway, that was a lot. all this to say yes, including those things was not a coincidence, and while i don’t plan to make it a majorrr story arc, it is something i wanted to acknowledge and leave space to explore further. 🫡 but obviously it’s a very sensitive topic so i want to be careful with how i approach it

[withasideofshakespeare]

hi you have asks open now! here are some numbers for the ask game. 20 23 31 42 45 (i am incapable of actually copypasting the questions. sorry)

I’m not gonna lie, I totally forgot that I never answered these asks!!!

20. Favorite female character?

Ooh this is hard. Ophelia is my favorite female character to write about, closely followed by Gertrude. This probably makes them my favorites overall.

Since I HC that Viola/Cesario is non-binary, I don’t know if they count, but I absolutely love them. I find them one of the most relatable characters across any of the plays I’ve read (and I love them for it!)

23. Favorite reoccurring theme/motif?

THE WEATHER!!! I love the “bad weather=bad things” motif so, so much. It’s such a fun way to foreshadow events and set a mood! My favorite example are the “unnatural” weather patterns in Macbeth on the night of Duncan’s murder (I could talk about it for ages), closely followed by the mood-setting cold wind and darkness in Hamlet.

31. Is Hamlet 19 or 30? Does it matter?

19 or younger and it matters SO MUCH. This is the question that spurred my hours-long inconclusive deep dive into the canonical age of our sweet prince. As it turns out, practically every single version of the play contradicts the others or offers us nothing of use. First Quarto gives us very little (Hamlet is probably at least 12 if the skull is Yorick’s), Second Quarto says 30, and First Folio contradicts itself. I firmly believe that Hamlet works best if Hamlet’s young. It makes his response to his grief and relationships (and even his life as a university student) much more real and sympathetic. (Do we really want our 30-year-old lead screaming at his mother and practically rewriting MCR lyrics in his soliloquies?)

Some of this is also projection- I am also a believer in the “Hamlet is as old as you are right now/Hamlet is the age you were when you first read the play” theory, so my Hamlet is forever 15, my age when I first read his play. 

42. Are you predominantly a drama nerd, a literature nerd, a history nerd, or something else?

A literature nerd! Believe it or not, my only theater experience until this year (I’m an audio techie for my school’s Anastasia) was crying at a musical audition at age 14. I did have quite the history hyperfixation through my middle school years, but I’ve always trended back towards literature. I read Macbeth for an English class when I was 15 and fell in love with Shakespeare’s works. Performing these plays, even for the tiny audiences I’ve had has really pulled me out of my shell. I can see myself being a literature and drama nerd in the future.

45. Share a Shakespearean hot take or unpopular opinion.

OH BOY I have so many. But since brevity is the soul of wit (forget the “limbs and flourishes,” Polonius!), I’ll pick just one. This isn’t a hot take in the circles I’m in, but it seems like some “traditional” Shakespeare scholars (*cough* boring English teachers) seem to think that the value of Shakespeare’s work is intrinsic and comes from simply reading them silently to yourself in a dimly lit classroom that smells vaguely of the despair of English students past. I could not disagree more. Unlike novels, plays rely on their actors to function! Sure, there’s a story in the words alone, but an actor’s emotion is what really makes it come to life. There’s more value in watching a production of a play or even reading it aloud (even if you stumble over every other line) than silently picking through words. Reading Shakespeare isn’t about proving you’re smart enough to read Shakespeare, it’s about having fun and connecting to the characters! I wish more English professors would see it this way! (As a teacher-to-be, I certainly plan to!)

[alarrytale]

I think anon is overexaggerating about Nick saying he is straight many times. Context is really important. When he was doing PH him and Sofia didn't have a PR relationship but they played up to the cameras, like all actors do, to sell the movie. The media did the whole "are they or aren't they dating" thing. In an interview Nick made a comment about ex girlfriends and Sofia gave him a funny look. It threw her off lmao. Iirc he also made a comment about being straight during PH era. In his more recent interviews the interviewer was really pressuring him to talk about his sexuality and it was uncomfortable. The interviewer kept assuming his sexuality and he didn't correct them. Then there was a tweet about being an ally when he worked with GLAAD. I'm not saying that he isn't straight but I don't find that proof enough that he is, or him saying he had a crush on Anne Hathaway when he was younger or whatever. He hasn't said anything that Louis hasn't said when pressured to talk about his sexuality. So I'm still keeping an open mind. If he starts making out with women and shows sexual chemistry towards them then I'll change my mind. But not based on the context of the interviews alone. Would love to hear your opinion of the Variety interview Marte! Also, just like HL's fandoms he does have het fans who try and shut down any talk about his sexuality and ship him with every woman but at the moment they seem the minority. It might change as he gets more famous.

Anon, you are going to roll over laughing at the anon i got seconds before yours. Nick's spokesperson and head of his straight defense squad just sent an ask. Giggles under the cut.

Nicholas has openly stated that he doesn’t care to be followed the way other celebrities are, that he wants his work to stand alone for what it is and that he likes to do his own thing.

It’s baffling that new fans are sitting here saying things like ‘cite your sources for us, there’s so much information, but I choose not to believe in any of it anyways because I’ve already decided he’s gay’. Simply say that you don’t care about him at all.

I understand you found a hot new guy to project all your fantasies and insecurities onto and now that Harry and Louis have essentially cut all ties with larries you all need a new project, but Nicholas isn’t going to be the one for you guys to fuck around with. He’s not indebted to the queer community, he doesn’t owe us anything. He’s a character actor moving from one thing to the next and he does not care about whether or not the 46 larries that still exist will hype him up or promote his projects. The work he has coming out in the next year is going to catapult him far beyond what larries think fame is.

Well, hello again. Asdfghjkl.

I have no horse in this race. Like i've said before i don't really mind what he identifies as. I just like him as an actor and as a person, from what i've come to know. And like i said just minutes ago, i haven't formed an opinion yet. Why would i lie about that? I could just say i think he's gay if i did? I don't form opinions on guesswork and stereotypes. And why are you so defensive? You do know that he still might be queer even if he's proclaimed himself to be straight mulitiple times? It wouldn't be the end of the world if he was queer. He'd still thrive and have a large fanbase who'd support him, including 46 larries. Even if that's not his goal.

And to you the first anon, i am inclined to agree. Context and knowledge on how the business operates is important. Saying that he had a crush on AH means little to me. He might be gay or bi/pan and closeted.

I'll give you my opinion on the variety interview when i get a chance to listen!

[pterodactylterrace]

I did watch the scene. Many times. He stated a fact. Vhagar has a new rider. For the first time, his uncles can’t bully him for not having a dragon. His “pig to ride” is a direct reference to the cruel prank they played on him.

A girl rushes him screaming and pushing him, and he pushes her down. Her sister punches him, he punches back. Then he reminds them he isn’t a defenseless child anymore. He has a dragon.

Then Jace attacks. Aemond kicks him off. Luke charges him. Gets punched in the nose. The twins and Jace get Aemond down and start pummeling him. He tosses one twin into the other, kicks Jace off, and then grabs Luke when he charges again. That is when he grabs the rock. After he has been attacked several times and it has been made clear he has to defend himself against 4 other children.

He mocks Luke and Jace. Jace decides it’s perfectly acceptable to pull a knife because someone said something mean. He attacked another child with a knife over words. He wasn’t protecting himself from physical harm. His feelings were hurt, and his next logical step was literally attempted murder.

This is the only time Aemond uses the rock. After Jace has already slashed at him more than once. He hits him once, he drops the knife and hits the ground.

Now considering Aemond has been attacked for calling back to a prank pulled ON HIM (guess it’s only ok for him to be told he should ride a pig, not anyone else. Also, he has never met these girls. They lived in Pentos. It’s not like they were raised together and Aemond is taking this chance to torment them) and for calling them a name, I don’t blame him for not lowering the rock. Last time he lowered the rock, someone pulled a knife.

To recap: Aemond claimed Vhagar at night because he knew his parents wouldn’t allow him to try to claim her at such a young age. When he came back, he was ambushed by 4 kids.

One tells him that was her mother’s dragon. Aemond says that Vhagar has a new rider. Looks to the two boys who tormented him and suggests a pig, like they did to him.

He defends himself over and over, only doing enough to stop himself from getting hurt. Then Jace pulls the knife he brought to this ambush and tries to disembowel Aemond. Aemond hits him with a rock, so Jace throws sand in his face and Luke slashes out his eye.

And how is this made right? It isn’t.

I have very big feelings about this scene. This is the scene that made me switch sides. I saw myself in Aemond. Growing up, I would be punished if I did something wrong or not. Others around me did not receive the same treatment. I know what it’s like to be wronged and have people you trust to keep you safe simply go “oh well, maybe you shouldn’t have done XYZ”, making it my fault that I was attacked. Yes, I was blamed for getting beat up before. I got beat up for breathing too loud. The course of action? “Don’t breathe so loud then!”

I’m know how it feels to do very little wrong, receive a disproportionate punishment, and then be told I was at fault. Didn’t want to go hungry for a week? Shouldn’t have stolen food from the pantry. Didn’t want to be strangled? Shouldn’t have been near him when he was in such a bad mood.

I saw myself in that scene, and I’m here to say: Aemond did not deserve any of that.

Team Black needs to realize that there are people at the other end of these screens. I’m not a fan of Aemond just because I like the actor playing him. I’m a fan of Aemond because I see a lot of myself in his childhood. Maybe don’t go around with sweeping blanket statements like “they only like them because they are hot!” Or just calling them evil. Some people see a lot of themselves in these characters, and it’s hurtful to have people say things like that.

I see a bullied and ignored child that never had the support and care he needed, grow up into a bitter and unhinged adult. I see myself in another life. One or two different choices, and I could have been on the same road. I know at his heart, he isn’t a bad person, because I’m not.

This is how fandom works. People choose characters they like based on the traits they see in them. Like Aemond just doing his best and never being good enough. Shitting on characters may be fun for some people, but bear in mind: there are real people that attach themselves to these fictional characters. Maybe don’t tear them apart and insult the people that like them at the same time? No one is here to rip each other’s head off. We are here because we like the show.

I was Pro-Rhaenyra right up until “sharply questioned”. I was rooting for her the second she was named heir. Ten she had 3 obvious bastards and expected everyone to believe her when she said they were her husbands. Like, that’s insulting, we can see they aren’t, but it’s important it doesn’t get out. Also, why have so many? One was enough. Harwin could have pulled out. Rhaenyra had access to moon tea. She made the decision to have two more. It’s like seeing someone at the Black Jack table hitting on 12, 16, 18 and 20. There is no reason to keep pushing your luck.

Then she sent her kids to bed at like 2pm (it’s a stressful day, I understand needing space) but then goes and has sex with her Uncle at her best friend and his wife’s funeral.

She doesn’t listen to the story when she comes upon the aftermath. She just claims her sons were the ones attacked. They literally formed a mob and jumped another kid.

The final straw was likely the same as Alicent’s. “Thank you father” in that smug bratty tone. I just can’t root for a character that is ok with their son maiming her little brother and then asking for him to be tortured.

"Aemond didn't want to kill Lucerys, he just wanted to scare him, just look at how he tried to stop Vhagar!"

So maybe… I don't know, he shouldn't have been chasing Lucerys through a blinding storm on his ancient, combat-trained dragon, laughing like a psychopath and giving commands in the wrong language…? This could be quite confusing…

And anyway, it's obvious that he's following Luke because he just wants to have fun and drink tea.

Poor, innocent angel. That rotten bastard Luke has ruined everything for him again!

[attilarrific]

A Musical Chairs update? On my dashboard? It's more likely than you'd think.

Anyway, a very kind follower requested an update to Musical Chairs but from Lan Xichen's POV. Did I ever intend to include Lan Xichen's POV in this fic? Nope! Am I absolutely willing to sell out my artistic vision in this time of crisis? Oh, yeah, for sure.

Enjoy! This does directly follow this, and I am aware it has been a hot minute, so if y'all need to remind yourselves wtf's going on, the masterpost is here.

.

“I’m making breakfast,” Lan Xichen says gently for what must be the fourth time.

Jin Guangyao’s expression flickers into something anxious and slightly hunted for the barest second, though frankly the fact that Lan Xichen even saw that is worrying. It transforms into a smile in the next moment, quick enough that the fear might have seemed imaginary if Lan Xichen weren’t so very used to people who can’t seem to ever tell him how they actually feel. He sometimes thinks, ruefully, that a lifetime with his brother prepared him in a way nothing else could have for falling in love with the best actor in Hollywood.

“Xichen-ge,” Jin Guangyao says, looking patient and kind and emotionally stable, which would be far more convincing if he hadn’t been trembling when he’d collapsed into Lan Xichen’s arms earlier. “I can’t ask you to—”

“You didn’t,” Lan Xichen reminds him. “I decided to.” He thinks about saying I find cooking relaxing, because Jin Guangyao will almost certainly let him do this if it sounds like he’s doing Lan Xichen a favor, but—usually Jin Guangyao protests twice when Lan Xichen tries to take care of him and then stops, looking pleased. The last time Jin Guangyao had tried this hard to not let Lan Xichen do anything for him, it had been right after that first big fight with Nie Mingjue.

It had taken Lan Xichen years of friendship to realize that Jin Guangyao doesn’t actually like doing things for other people, that his habit of solving his friends’ problems isn’t born out of any kind of enjoyment, but out of some transaction-based affection system that makes sense only to him. A system that Jin Guangyao always has to be winning.

Lan Xichen usually takes pleasure from the fact that Jin Guangyao will let Lan Xichen tip the scales ever so slightly, but he’s slowly started to learn that if Jin Guangyao won’t, it means he’s worried about something, and that something is probably Lan Xichen deciding their relationship isn’t worth it. More than once, Lan Xichen has considered trying to explain how very much that isn’t going to happen, but he’s too aware that if he tried, he would mostly get a lot of complete and utter bullshit. Some of it would likely even be true, but figuring out which parts might be beyond even him. With Jin Guangyao, it’s not always best to come at ideas from the front.

“A-Yao,” he says finally, “being able to take care of you makes me very happy.”

Jin Guangyao blinks at him twice and then ducks his head. Some of his hair falls into his eyes, messy and all the more charming for it. It’s devastatingly attractive. “Xichen-ge,” he says. “You’re so kind.”

Hmm, Lan Xichen thinks fondly, finally allowed to turn toward the kitchen without further protests. It’s really even odds on whether Jin Guangyao has managed to accept the idea that he doesn’t need to do Lan Xichen any favors or simply the idea that allowing Lan Xichen to do things for him is doing Lan Xichen a favor, but, well. Close enough for now. He’ll keep working on it.

He puts some water in the kettle for tea and starts to get the ingredients for something light and simple, and when he turns back to glance at Jin Guangyao, he’s greeted with a brilliant, grateful smile. That’s probably deliberate, as is the slight reduction in shoulder tension, but it doesn’t particularly matter. Jin Guangyao likes when Lan Xichen is kind to him. That he also wants Lan Xichen to know that he likes it is beside the point.

“Do you think Wei Wuxian will get up in time to eat?” he says, because as much as he doesn’t particularly want to remember that Wei Wuxian is here, pretending he isn’t won’t make him not be. And if he is here, and he’s awake, then it would be rude not to make him breakfast as well. Especially since he’s currently helping Jin Guangyao in a way Lan Xichen apparently can’t. Lan Xichen should be thankful.

“You want to cook for Wei Wuxian?” Jin Guangyao says, sounding amused. “Xichen-ge really is kind.”

Lan Xichen winces. He’s spent what feels like half his life trying very, very hard to like Wei Wuxian and failing miserably, because while he’s fully aware that Wei Wuxian’s total obliviousness to Lan Xichen’s little brother’s feelings isn’t anyone’s fault, it’s still—well. And the fact that Lan Xichen got off a plane this morning and saw six different tabloid photos of Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao kissing extremely thoroughly didn’t exactly make that easier. He clears his throat. “He’s only here because he’s helping you. Naturally I should cook for him.”

A brief silence, and then Jin Guangyao says, voice small, “I should’ve asked you. Before I called him.”

For a very confusing moment, Lan Xichen thinks Jin Guangyao is suggesting that he should’ve asked Lan Xichen to be his fake boyfriend, which would have been an interesting conversation, but then he realizes. “A-Yao,” he says. “You don’t need to ask my permission. Besides, it’s not as if Wangji doesn’t know it’s fake, so you’ve barely done anything at all. I’m not upset.”

“Ge,” Jin Guangyao says, very quietly, but Lan Xichen doesn’t get to find out what he was planning to say next, because a phone rings loudly, interrupting them.

“Mine,” Jin Guangyao says instantly, sounding extremely tired. “I silenced it for most people, though, I couldn’t deal with—anyway. Sorry, Xichen-ge, I should at least check to see who it is.”

Lan Xichen turns around, automatically assuring him that it’s fine, which is how he sees the faint, resigned exhaustion cross Jin Guangyao’s face upon seeing the caller ID. It matches the dark circles under Jin Guangyao’s eyes. If it’s a conscious expression, it just means Jin Guangyao’s asking for something. Lan Xichen’s crossed the room in three steps to pluck the phone out of his hands before he even realizes he’s done it.

“Ah,” he says when he reads the name on the screen. “Let me get this.” When Jin Guangyao looks like he might protest, he simply hits accept, lifts the phone to his ear, and says cheerfully, “Hello, da-ge.”

“Xichen?” Nie Mingjue says, sounding surprised. “What are you doing there?”

“Visiting,” Lan Xichen replies easily. “I got in this morning.”

“I hear Wei Wuxian got there last night.”

“I believe so, yes,” Lan Xichen says, like he hasn’t seen pictures of Wei Wuxian greeting Jin Guangyao with his tongue.

“You know they’re not dating.”

Lan Xichen does know that—is, in fact, very grateful to know that—but that’s probably not what Nie Mingjue really means. He hums noncommittally and glances at Jin Guangyao, relieved to be the one who picked up. While he knows neither of his friends ever starts out looking for a fight, that doesn’t mean there wouldn’t have been one. Jin Guangyao’s too bitter to be patient right now, and Nie Mingjue’s too blunt to be careful. It was much, much easier when the two of them could talk without constantly interpreting everything in the worst possible way. “One second, da-ge,” Lan Xichen says. To Jin Guangyao, he mouths, Sorry, gesturing at the food and raising his eyebrows.

“Sure,” Jin Guangyao murmurs, quietly enough that he won’t be heard through the phone. “Thank you, Xichen-ge.”

Lan Xichen brushes it off, smiling at him before walking away. He waits until he’s in Jin Guangyao’s bedroom with the door closed before he says, “All right, I can talk now.”

“Sparing his feelings?” Nie Mingjue says, sounding amused. “I’m not sure he has any.”

“Da-ge.”

“All right, all right, I’m sorry. You’re right. So?”

Lan Xichen sits down on Jin Guangyao’s bed, leaning back against the headboard. He’s realizing now that this isn’t the bed Jin Guangyao had when he was dating Qin Su. He’d noticed around the time of the breakup that Jin Guangyao had bought a new frame, but it’s probably a new mattress as well. New sheets. Back then, he’d simply assumed that it was a petty moment during what seemed an extremely emotional separation, but now he’s starting to understand. Jin Guangyao had kept so many things Qin Su had bought for this house, but he’d gotten rid of furniture, and he’d done it very quietly, as if he didn’t want anyone to know.

“So?” he repeats, feeling newly horrible about the whole situation. About how isolated Jin Guangyao must have felt. About the fact that Lan Xichen has never managed to convey to him he doesn’t have to be perfect, or even particularly good, Lan Xichen will love him anyway.

“So he’s fucking pretending to be dating that mess of a rock star. So he’s pretending he’s gay—not that I’m not delighted he’s decided to come out after all, but I think we can both agree he also likes women—and also that he never dated her. I don’t know about you, but I remember him dating her. They couldn’t fucking keep their hands off each other as long as there weren’t cameras around.”

“And?” Lan Xichen says patiently. “Who cares?”

Nie Mingjue snorts. “Naturally not you. I’m just wondering if it’s ever occurred to him to tell the truth in his entire life.”

Lan Xichen hums, not quite agreeing and not quite disagreeing. “If it hasn’t, I wouldn’t expect it to start now. You saw the tabloids.”

“It’s not like he knew,” Nie Mingjue says defensively, and Lan Xichen smiles. “If he explained that, people would be sympathetic.”

“Maybe,” Lan Xichen agrees. But maybe not. Jin Guangyao spends his life in a defensive crouch, waiting for the next attack, and as much as Lan Xichen wishes he wouldn’t, he doesn’t have anything other than optimism to suggest he shouldn’t. “He’d have to fight against Jin Guangshan’s PR.”

“Someone ought to hit that bastard with a car,” Nie Mingjue says, disgusted. “His best friend’s wife, fucking hell.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t think of himself as a violent man, but there is something very satisfying about that thought. “Do you remember,” he says suddenly, “after the breakup? When A-Yao came to your place?”

“Yeah. Shit.” Nie Mingjue pauses. “That’s when they found out?”

“Apparently.”

“No wonder. I guess now we know why they ended it.”

Neither of them had ever been able to figure that out, and Jin Guangyao has always refused to say anything other than variations on ‘we decided we were better off as friends.’ That had been particularly unconvincing in the first few months after the breakup, when Jin Guangyao and Qin Su had seemed unable to even look at each other, let alone be friends.

“Hey,” Nie Mingjue says abruptly, “now you definitely know they’re not getting back together. Not that I’m supporting your terrible taste in men. But you’re already there, he practically falls all over himself fluttering his eyelashes at you whenever you smile at him, he’s not still in love with his ex—”

“That is not why I’m here,” Lan Xichen says, sitting up straight. “And this isn’t the time. He’s pretending to date Wei Wuxian—”

“Yeah, meant to ask, how do you feel about that?”

“—and he’s very upset.” Lan Xichen takes a deep breath. “I’m here to see if I can help, that’s all. He needs a friend right now, not—not a date.”

“I know I’ve tried to explain this to you before, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue says, “but if there’s one person in the world who can take care of himself, it’s him.”

“I know that.” Nie Mingjue makes a doubtful noise, and Lan Xichen says firmly, “No, I do. But why should that matter? If he likes when I’m kind to him, when I take care of him, when I treat him gently, why should I stop just because it isn’t necessary?”

“Fucking hell. He’s not nearly nice enough for you.”

Lan Xichen sighs. “Considering my three favorite people are you, him, and my brother, I don’t know how you’re under the impression that I’m looking for nice.” Nie Mingjue barks out a loud laugh at that, and Lan Xichen smiles. “Anyway. I know you don’t like when he lies, but with this—da-ge, you know the press is going to ask you about it.”

“Oh, I get it. You want to know if I’ll lie for him.”

“Yes,” Lan Xichen says. “Will you?” When Nie Mingjue doesn’t say anything, he adds, “Please.”

Nie Mingjue groans. “What if I just say that I won’t comment on this shitshow? No, I’ve got it—my only comment on this shitshow is that Jin Guangshan deserves to fucking go to jail.”

Lan Xichen blinks a few times. “That’ll probably work. Just not commenting might not, but saying Jin Guangshan should go to jail—they’ll pay more attention to that than whether or not you’re confirming A-Yao’s story. I think.”

“Perfect. Tell him I agreed to that. And if he doesn’t like it, he can tell me himself, got it? Stop playing go-between. We’re adults, we can act like it.”

When Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao are in the same room, they absolutely don’t act like it, but Lan Xichen decides not to point that out. “Thank you, da-ge,” he says. “I’ll convey your support.”

“Who’s fucking supporting what,” Nie Mingjue snaps, and he hangs up.

Lan Xichen rolls his eyes. Oh, yes, they can act like adults. That’s very apparent.

When he goes back out to the kitchen, Jin Guangyao’s head immediately jerks up from where he’s standing by the stove. “Xichen-ge,” he says carefully, “is everything okay?”

“Of course it is,” Lan Xichen says cheerfully. “Da-ge told me he won’t say anything about your relationship with Qin Su. Or your relationship with Wei Wuxian. His only comment to the press is going to be that your—that Jin Guangshan should be in prison.”

Jin Guangyao winces. “My father won’t be pleased to hear that. Da-ge knows he can be vindictive, right?”

“I don’t think da-ge particularly cares,” Lan Xichen says, pleased when that gets a rueful smile out of Jin Guangyao. “He also said your relationship with Qin Su wasn’t your fault.”

Jin Guangyao’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“And that he wanted to hit Jin Guangshan with a car.”

“Oh, no,” Jin Guangyao says, though he doesn’t actually look that unhappy about it. “I hope he doesn’t say that to the press.”

“He might,” Lan Xichen admits. “I’m sorry you ended up making breakfast after all.”

“No! Xichen-ge—Xichen-ge, I—” Jin Guangyao swallows. “I should be the one apologizing. Or thanking you. Both. I don’t know what I’d do if you—”

Lan Xichen steps forward and wraps his arms around Jin Guangyao without a word, and Jin Guangyao immediately returns the hug, crushingly tight, a little desperate. This is what Lan Xichen has never quite figured out how to explain, to Nie Mingjue or anyone else: if Jin Guangyao acts upset and like he wants to be held, what it usually means is that he’s upset and wants to be held. Sometimes it also means that he’d like you to ignore something or to stop being mad at him, but since Lan Xichen is very good at paying attention to two things at once and also rarely mad at him, that’s never seemed particularly important.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says gently, pressing his lips to the top of Jin Guangyao’s head. “You don’t ever have to worry about that.”

Jin Guangyao definitely doesn’t believe him, but Lan Xichen has their entire lives to prove it. He’ll get there eventually.

[writingtoforgetreality]

Gold Rush (Sebastian Stan x Reader)

[Actors-Masterlist]

Gold Rush [1] / You’re Not Sorry [2] / This Is Me Trying [3] / [4] (soon)

Summary: Your career was blossoming, especially with your new role in “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier”. Working on set was a dream come true. It was never your intention to fall for one of your coworkers. Not when you knew that he would never look at you that way.

Words: 2,637

Warnings: language, it’s Anthony Mackie’s world & we’re just living in it, angst, feeeeeels, maybe I cried, maybe I didn’t, we’ll never know, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Inspired by: “gold rush” by Taylor Swift

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

You scored big time when you were casted in the upcoming Marvel series “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier”. Working alongside Anthony Mackie & Sebastian Stan had been more than you had ever wished for. The atmosphere on set was harmonious. Everything would have been fine if it were not for your stupid crush on your fellow castmate. Mackie picked up on the fact that you liked Sebastian almost immediately & he teased you about it one too many times. No matter how obvious his teasing, it seemed like Sebastian was completely oblivious to it. Or he acted as if he had no clue. You were not quite sure about that.

The press tour was going strong, which meant that Seb, Mackie & you were teamed up for every interview. Now, that was not something that bothered you too much. After all, you were more than comfortable around them. But when some interviewers did not know where the line was, you got frustrated. Like, okay, we got it. Everyone with eyes knew Seb was hot. But as an interviewer, you should know when to stop. Shamelessly flirting in front of the camera with basically a stranger? Sorry, but you had no explanation for such a behavior. Yes, some interviewers flirted with you, too. But you were great when it came to brushing them off while staying polite. Of course, Mackie’s teasing did not make this any easier for you. Every now & then, he would bring up the chemistry you & Seb shared on screen. And off screen. Like usual, you laughed at him & so did Seb. During interviews, you teased each other a lot, it was a playful manner you all enjoyed. And the audience loved the three of you for it.

Sometimes, when Seb answered a question that had him explain scenes with you or something similar, you hated the butterflies you felt inside. You hated how your cheeks warmed up. You hated that he had such an effect on you. You hated Seb. You hated him for being so perfect. You hated him for being a literal God. You hated him for ruining every other man for you. Because nobody could ever compare to him. And you said that even though you were not even in a relationship. Hell, you were not the only person who looked at him that way. If the interviews were not proof enough, a look at social media did the job, too.

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

“So (Y/N)…” the man sitting opposite of you started. It was not a lot of times that questions were directed at you. Usually, people were more excited to talk to the guys. No offense taken. “The chemistry between Sebastian & you can be felt even after such a short trailer. My question is…are you two, like, a thing?” of course. If you got a question, it was about your love life or about how great you looked in your suit. The others got complex & well thought through questions & you got this shit. Internally rolling your eyes, you stayed professional & answered casually.

“Sebby & I are friends. We work well together. We know each other well enough to communicate with our eyes, body language & so on. Some people mistake that for dating, apparently.” finishing off with a sarcastic chuckle, you had to hide the fact that you wished that there was more between you two.

“I gotta say. Even I think they’re dating sometimes.” Mackie smirked when he spoke up which earned him a light slap from you. Seb only hid his face behind his hand & laughed quietly. It was nothing new. You were used to his teasing by now. Looking over at Seb, you could not help but admire him. Even when he was embarrassed, to you, he was the most beautiful person on this planet. Not a single flaw. Just…perfect. If only you had enough courage to do something about your damn feelings.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

I see me padding across your wooden floors

With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door

“Stop that.” Mackie walked over to where you were sitting. Finally, you had a break after hours of giving interview after interview. Looking up, your face turned into one of pure confusion.

“Stop what?” he exaggeratedly rolled his eyes at your question.

“The daydreaming.” it was a simple statement. But why would he tell you to stop that?

“What? Is it forbidden to daydream now?” chuckling at him, you offered him one of your coffee cups. Your handler brought you two because you had not slept much that night. But Mackie needed one just as much & he gladly accepted it. Still, he could tell that you were trying to change the topic. Not with him, though. Sitting beside you, he sighed loudly.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” he looked straight forward when he asked that question. Your face fell at his words but maybe, maybe, if you played dumb, you could get out of this conversation without any awkwardness.

“Tell who what?” your innocent eyes bore into his side profile & you saw him shaking his head slightly. A low chuckle escaped him.

“Tell Seb you like him or I will.” he stated & your eyes widened in fear.

“You wouldn’t dream of it.” exclaiming frantically, you grew more nervous at the thought.

“I wouldn’t trust that thought.” & after a few seconds of silence, you breathed out loudly.

“Yeah, sure. And I’d risk our friendship for that? Forget it.”

“He likes you, too, you know?” he casually stated. Your face changed, but only for a second. He was wrong. Someone like Seb could never like you back.

“Stop, Mackie. Don’t just run around assuming shit.” you pushed his shoulder playfully but it did not do too much. What a surprise.

“My running around assuming shit isn’t assuming. It’s facts. You guys are awful, by the way. It’s exhausting, watching you two trying to dodge your feelings. Why can’t you just, I don’t know, get everything sorted out & be happy together? If someone deserves that, it’s you.” yes, Mackie could be sarcastic but when push came to shove, he could be serious, too. And that last part, he meant by heart. Was it true? Did Seb like you? More than a friend? Maybe you should just tell him. Life was too short to be filled with what if’s. It was now or never, right?

At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit

And the coastal town we wandered 'round had never seen a love as pure as it

And then it fades into the gray of my day-old tea

'Cause it could never be

Wrapping up for today, the three of you decided to grab some take-out & eat it back inside your hotel. After quickly showering & dressing more comfortably, you made your way over to Seb’s room. Mackie was already there, he texted you at least ten times to hurry up because they were starving to death. Dramatic diva. Knocking softly, a smile spread across your face when Seb opened the door. Stepping aside to let you in, you greeted Mackie briefly. He was already eating so why the hell was he rushing you earlier? He could be such a child. Seb handed you your food & motioned for you to take a seat on the bed. Take-out in a hotel bed? It should be illegal. Usually, you were not one for eating in bed but whenever you where staying at a hotel, it became some sort of a routine for you. Same for the guys. For a while, the three of you just talked & ate your food. Conversation always flowed easily with them. You knew all of their secrets & they knew all of yours. Well, except for Seb having no clue about your silly crush on him. When he & Mackie discussed a topic you did not know too much about to actually engage in their conversation, you found yourself stealing glances at Seb. If it were not enough for him to be so gorgeous, of course he had the best personality to match that. God really took his time with him. And the weirdest thing of it all was that Seb never let that thought get the best of him. He was aware of people admiring him but that never changed him.

'Cause I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

Mackie got a phone call & said goodbye to you before leaving the room. Which meant that Seb & you were alone. It was nothing special, the two of you spent a lot of time together. This time, though, you wanted to confess to him. Finally, you wanted to tell him how you felt. Could you live with the rejection? Well, if things turned in that direction, you had no choice but to. Seb’s lips moved but no sound came out. You zoned out & simply stared at him. Your thoughts were running wild. The sun had already started setting & the golden light illuminated his features in such a beautiful way. It almost looked like a movie scene. He was the masterpiece others could not keep their eyes from. You were this close to speaking up, taking a deep breath for preparation. This could change your bond with him forever.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

My mind turns your life into folklore

I can't dare to dream about you anymore

A phone ringing interrupted you. It was not yours. But Seb pulled his phone out of his pocket. The moment he saw the notification, he started smiling so brightly. The smile you had grown to love so much. It brought a grin to your face, too. The things this man could do to you, completely unaware of the effect he had on you.

“What?” you asked when he could not stop staring at his phone. Had Mackie sent him a message?

“Nothing, it’s just…” he stopped before saying too much but you were having none of it.

“Aw, come on, Sebby. You can tell me anything.” encouraging him, your hand found its way on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Seb seemed almost shy right now. And this was weird because he usually was everything but shy when he talked to you.

“There’s this girl & she’s just…amazing.” your face fell the moment he started talking. No. “I asked her for dinner but when she hadn’t replied after hours, I started losing hope. She just messaged me back.” his smile was sheepish & you hated that you had to admit that he looked happy right now. Genuinely happy. But you were not the reason of his happiness. Another girl was.

“And? What did she say?” deep down, you knew the answer & you actually did not want him to say it out loud. But you were best friends, after all, it was kind of your duty.

“I got myself a date. I’m going on a date with her, (Y/N)!” he beamed & pulled you into a big hug. One, that made the butterflies act out. Fuck, that hurt.

“That’s great, Sebby. I’m happy for you! You deserve it.” your excitement for him was fake but the sincerity behind your last words were not. If one person on this planet deserved endless love & happiness, it was him. Mackie was wrong. Seb had never liked you. Not in that way, at least. And his date saved you from embarrassing yourself & ruining your friendship. That did not change the fact that you felt like crying right now. You could not shed tears in front of him, could not show how much it actually affected you. No. You had to fake a smile. And that shit hurt like a bitch.

At dinner parties I won't call you out on your contrarian shit

And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it

'Cause it fades into the gray of my day-old tea

'Cause it will never be

“Something’s wrong with you.” Mackie stated at breakfast. No shit, Sherlock.

“What makes you think that?” feigning innocence, you rolled your eyes when you saw the look he was giving you.

“Clearly, you’re upset. Did something happen after I left you with Seb yesterday?” he hit the nail on the head with his assumption.

“Yeah.” was all you answered. His eyebrows raised, he waited for you to continue. But when he noticed that you were not planning on engaging in any more conversation with him, he pressed further.

“Did you tell him? Did he mess up?” if Seb messed up, he would kill him. There was no other person who was better for him than you. The two of you deserved each other. And everyone seemed to realize that but you.

“I wanted to tell him.” admitting quietly.

“But?”

“He got a notification.” your short answers made Mackie freak out. He grew frustrated with you when you dragged out this entire conversation.

“(Y/N), come on.” he urged.

“Sebby has a date.”

“With you? But that’s great.” his smile was small but present. Did you finally realize that you were feeling so much more for each other?

“With another girl.” then you looked up at his face, your eyes glossy. Clearly, you were trying to keep it together but he could tell that you had a hard time doing so. Yes, Mackie would kill Seb. He could have sworn that Seb only had eyes for you. The stolen glances, the efforts to make time to spend more with you. What the fuck was going on? When he saw your first tear falling, he wasted no time in pulling you in for a hug. You were broken, all because of one man. But the thing was that he was not just any man. He was Seb. Your best friend. Your everything. But he would never be yours. Not in a million years. Because he only saw you as a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was not like you did not have options. Hell, you declined so many people over the time. All because of him. And you were afraid that this would not change anytime soon. Because you did not think you would ever get over him. Your heart was ripped into a million pieces & the only person who could help you fix it was getting excited over his upcoming date. Whatever you thought could be between you guys, it was nothing but a dream. Something that could never be.

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

Gold Rush [1] / You’re Not Sorry [2] / This Is Me Trying [3] / [4] (soon)

Published (04/22/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @buckysleftarm420 (thanks for your support <3)

[ptergwen]

play the game

w/c: 2.2k

summary: an interview question catches you off guard

a/n: this is kinda random but i wanted to write something just fun n cute with actress!reader so this is what we got enjoy everyoneee

-

“ooh, these are always fun,” tom murmurs to you. he pushes a bucket of questions to the middle of the table. you turn it towards yourself with a furrowed eyebrow.

you’re at buzzfeed promoting the next spider-man. it’s just you and tom for this one. zendaya and jacob are doing their own interview in the room next to yours. you’re usually paired with the two of them, but tom joins your group sometimes. you find yourself much more intimidated by him than the camera whenever he does. not because he scares you. you’ve actually become close friends over filming.

it’s because you never know what he’s going to say. tom is a flirty guy by nature, and he’ll play it up even more if he has an audience. he loves to give them a good laugh. spark a few rumors maybe, only to get people talking about the movie. the idea itself isn’t half bad. the effect it has on you is what you worry about.

you’ve had a pretty big crush on him that started the same time your friendship did. in your defense, how could you get to know him and not fall? he’s one of the most genuine people on earth, he calls you cute british pet names, he makes you laugh on set during a stressful take. he’s just so charming. he charmed you, after all.

so much as a wink at you and your cheeks would be burning. the last thing you need is for the whole world to see that. it’s bad enough he would, too. you’re hoping he keeps the playfulness at minimum for your interview. with you being the only person he has to bounce off of this time, you’re not sure he will.

“i feel like the fans always ask better questions than interviewers,” tom jokes and takes a slip of paper out of the bucket. he reads it to himself with a snort. “what does it say?” you peek over his shoulder. he folds it again before you can see. a smirk pulls at his lips. “you’ll find out.” “you’re not even supposed to look at them yet,” you huff, reaching to grab the paper. tom drops it back into the bucket.

looking off to the side, he breathes a laugh out of his nose. he’s so annoying about keeping secrets. you push at his shoulder with a smug smile. “can you ever just, like, behave?” “around you? no, i can’t,” tom teases, the hint of a smirk still on his face. this is exactly what you were dreading. what’s worse is you haven’t even started the interview. thank god the cameraman gets your attention.

“all ready. you two start whenever you want.” he gives you a thumbs up from behind the camera. tom scoots closer to you in his chair. his knee is touching yours. it’s such a childish thing to care about, but your heart speeds up. “thanks, man. i think we’re good.” he glances at you to make sure. “yeah?” “yeah, we can start.” your voice is higher than usual, which only happens when you’re nervous. you clear your throat.

the little light on the camera turns red. that means you’re recording. tom beams into it, sounding cheery as ever when he introduces himself. “hey everyone, i’m tom holland.” he holds out a hand to present you. you can’t help but smile at his antics. “i’m y/n y/l/n. we’re gonna be answering some questions you guys sent in.”

“there are a few prompts in here, too,” tom adds, eyes meeting yours for a second. “we have to act them out. let’s get into it.” you raise your eyebrows at the camera. spinning the bucket in his hands, he holds it out to you. “ladies first.” “when he has manners,” you deadpan, getting a giggle out of tom. his stupid adorable laugh that gives you butterflies. holding back a smile, you pull out a paper slip.

“tell us about gwen stacy and peter’s relationship in the movie,” you read off and push the paper to the other end of the table. “i mean, it’s not a relationship. it’s a new friendship,” you explain. tom nods in agreement. “yeah. peter is still after mj in this film.” squinting into the camera, you try to think of a description that won’t spoil you being spider-gwen.

tom digs into the bucket for the next question, but keeps his eyes on you. you hold up a finger when you get it. “my gwen is with spider-man more than peter. that’s all i’m gonna say.” “nice. very smooth,” he teases and unfolds the paper. “how hard was it to do all your stunts?” you shoot him a knowing look. there were a few the two of you had to do together.

they weren’t anything major because you’re not trained like tom is. a lot of the time, you only watched him do insane flips and leaps before simply entering the scene. he’d come back to your trailer after and complain about how sore he was while laying his head on your shoulder or some other part of your body. stunt days were exhausting.

“you know, i’ll be honest. they were awful.” tom shakes his head with wide eyes. you let out a quiet laugh. “not because they were bad or anything. the stunts look amazing. but, they really hurt.” he tosses the piece of paper at the one you just answered to create a pile. “the amount of ice you had to put on your body,” you giggle to him, tom joining in your laughter. he sighs. “i raided the freezer in your trailer every day.”

grinning at the memories, you reach into the bucket for your next question. you’re still smiling when you read it. “this one’s a prompt. it says to do an impression of each other.” tom eagerly sits up in his chair. his leg brushes yours again in the process. you catch your lip between your teeth. “easy. i’ll go first.” he hasn’t started, but you roll your eyes.

“we’ll all be watching a movie and she’s like,” he switches to his american girl accent before continuing. “isn’t that guy so hot? he’s literally so hot, guys. how do you not see it?” your mouth dropped open, you bump his knee under the table. “oh my god, what?” “and it’s always the most basic looking person, too,” he goes on, pressing his lips together in shame for you. you make the same face.

“someone sounds a little jealous.” “it’s not me,” tom scoffs, still playfully making fun of you. you narrow your eyes at him. “ok, my turn.” he’s biting back a smile while you get yourself ready. “ello, love,” you start in an exaggerated british accent. he closes his eyes in defeat. “i love golf. i’m like an old man, innit? i fu-“ you put a hand over your mouth in the same way he does. “i forgot i can’t swear.” tom claps slowly for you.

“bravo, y/n. you didn’t miss a thing, love.” he emphasizes the last word. there goes one of his infamous pet names. he’s just repeating what you said, but it still makes your heart clench. your favorite is when he calls you darling. it sounds so perfect falling from his lips. that being said, you wouldn’t have been able to control your reaction if he called you it right now.

you shrug your shoulder and give him a cheesy grin. “i know i didn’t.” “right, next question.” tom grabs the bucket back from you with a pretend glare. he gasps before reading it out loud. “who’s your favorite cast mate? that’s wicked!” you move your head forward dramatically. “that’s not fair!”

tom drums his fingers on the table. “jeez, you guys are ruthless. i’ll say y/n because she’s right next to me.” you don’t miss a beat. “um, i’m saying zendaya.” you nod at the camera, tom pouting. “love you, z.” “i should change my answer to jacob, then,” he mutters childishly. exhaling, you pull out the next question. there are only two left after this.

“or maybe marisa,” tom keeps throwing names out. “are you done yet?” you ask like you’re his mom. he is acting like a kid, to be fair. “no.” “will you be done if i say you’re my favorite?” he perks up. “yes.” looking him in the eyes, you put your free hand on his arm. “tom, you’re my favorite cast mate.” “thank you.” his sarcastic tone matches yours. he tilts your chin up with the tips of his fingers. “my love.”

you’re quick to turn your head before you let yourself lean into his touch. you’d never recover. for one thing, you’ll think about it too much. another, it would give tom something to tease you about.

pretending to be disgusted, you unfold the paper. your expression relaxes when you look over the question. it’s kind of sweet. “what was your favorite scene to film together?” “all of them,” tom answers right away. “that’s a cheat answer,” you laugh out. he shrugs and looks down at the question. “i’m being serious. i really loved working with you.” his eyes meet yours. “every second of it.”

he’s being genuine. it’s probably to make up for tormenting you this entire interview. all you know is, the fans will definitely start talking. you find it nice either way. “aw, tom,” you coo, him nodding his head. “what was yours?” you’ve never thought about it. you shared so many special memories while making the movie. but, there is one that sticks out to you.

“our last scene. it was a really, like, emotional day because we were wrapping.” tom already knows what you’re going to say next. his lips curl into a smile. “i cried before we started shooting it, so he kept hugging me and said i’d ruin my makeup.” you rest your head on his shoulder for a few seconds, returning the smile. his arm slings around your waist.

“yeah, i felt so bad. your crying face just breaks my heart,” tom tells you with a head shake. you lift yourself off of him and wiggle your eyebrows. “that’s what every actor wants to hear.” “you’re ridiculous. do the last question.” he taps the bucket twice. he’s still holding your waist. “isn’t it your turn?” “it’s the one i read earlier. you read it now.” eyebrows knitted together, you pick out the slip. it’s a prompt.

this has to be a joke. no one in their right mind would have you do this on camera. what kind of interview would this be? blinking a few times, you hold it closer to your face. “it... it says to kiss each other.” you crumple the piece of paper up, face still scrunched in confusion. buzzfeed probably decided to mess with you two. “are we actually supposed to?”

“yep. a fan sent it in,” the cameraman interjects. you look at tom in a panic. he was all smiley about this earlier. now, he’s taking it seriously. “why would we...” you’re too flustered to finish your sentence. tom squeezes your waist. “it’s what the people want. i want it, too.” you can feel your stomach drop. “would’ve said something if i didn’t. do you?”

of course you do. for the past year or so, you’ve been craving to taste that mint chapstick he’s constantly applying. you can’t believe it’s finally going to happen in front of millions of people. technically eight people right now, but the whole world eventually. you’re afraid he’s only going through with it for the movie promotion. for a good thumbnail.

“are you only doing this for promo?” you whisper so the camera doesn’t pick it up. you need his real answer. “never. the promo just gives me an excuse.” his eyes dart from yours to your lips. he inches his face closer. you gulp. “can i kiss you?” he asks lowly. “mhm,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut.

his lips brush yours before he closes his eyes. he kisses you softly, his other arm wrapping around you. your hands go to his shoulders when you kiss back. it’s everything you’ve been needing, been dreaming of for so long now. he tastes even better than you expected. tom breaks the kiss first. a grin instantly spreads across his face. “we’ll continue this later,” he says only to you.

your lips and whole body feel tingly. you give him a goofy smile in return, looking at the camera over your shoulder. “thanks to whoever sent that one in. thank you so much.” you laugh in disbelief. tom turns and faces forward. “i think this is a good place to wrap things up,” he chuckles. “thanks for watching! we hope you enjoyed!” you wave. tom points at the camera. “see us again in theaters next week, if you did.”

the camera clicks off, and everyone else in the room starts chatting. you can’t imagine the headlines that are going to come out about you two. at the same time, you don’t care. you’re too happy. you move your arms up to wind around his neck. tom sighs in content. “i like you, too. in case you couldn’t tell.” he never stops finding ways to shock you. “how did you know i like you?” you groan.

“from one actor to another, you’re not good at hiding it.”

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL

March 2021 Part 4

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. 

This is a LONG ONE, it’s been A WEEK everyone. 

Ongoing Series - Thai

Lovely Writer Ep 5 - a little slow this week, but at least Gene finally flirted back, and very cute flirting it was, too. Also we got Aey’s motivation, background, and love interest. Thank goodness for that. 

Brothers Ep 8 - still pants, what can I say? Clearly I am a BL masochist. Very embarrassing for everyone concerned. 

1000 Stars Ep 9 - the conflict over Tian’s father was REALLY well done. The plot of this drama is excellent, the leads are great together, and yes I totally cried. What, you didn’t? 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Word of Honor (China) Ep 16-18 - big battle fighty fighty stabby stabby. Ep 17 switches to “this drama isn’t big enough for two chaotic-neutral godlings!” So what do they do? Drink together and bicker... A LOT. Then in Ep 18 we all get the dubious joy of really freaky puppets. (I HATE puppets.) Also how is China letting this be so SO VERY VERY GAY?  Also, I wanna walk through the forest wearing a smanshy purple robe and waving a big fuck-off white fan around simply because I’m a pretentious fuss monger. And frankly, I feel like this is an achievable life goal for me. 

We Best Love 2 (Taiwan) Ep 4 - not gonna lie, this is looking to be one of my top 3 BLs of 2021. It’s SO GOOD. Big bonus to this ep for treating stalker behavior like the mental illness it is and not as some dumb representation of enduring love. 

The Most Peaceful Place is My Place (Vietnam) Ep 1 - finally dropped (find it under NƠI BÌNH YÊN NHẤT LÀ VỀ BÊN EM on O2′s channel). It’s got actors already comfortable with BL and looks pretty good so far. An angry tsundere uke reunited with his ex, a stoic chef, giving us lots of snap, crackle, and pop out the gate. 

Dear Uranus (Taiwan GL) Ep 2 - I want to love it, but it is just moving too fast. There’s not enough character dev and then they’re throwing flashbacks in? It feels like a treatment rather than a show, and a rushed treatment at that. Bummer. 

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 2 (AKA Ep 3-4) - let the cheesy popcorn continue! Idiot remains an idiot; ingenue remains an ice queen; nice gay guy remains nice and gay; obsessive stalker brother is getting ever more whackadoddle. Of course these last two have the best chemistry. (It’s caregiver codependency and the salvation trope. We got us a Leo/Fiat situation going on.​) Plus lots of classic BL tropes because OF COURSE there are lots of tropes. 

Occasionally, I am tempted to argue that shows like H4 or Cherry Magic or Ossan’s Love aren’t technically BL because of the office setting and age of the protags - but then they all behave like high school students anyway, so *shrug* 

Stand Alones

Cute little Taiwanese micro BL Friend or Lover dropped, about bisexual realization within a friendship group. Normally these are too short for me, but this one did pretty good with its 15 minutes of charm, plus it’s abad boy + shy softy pairing. 

Breaking News - Thai BL

Fish Upon the Sky released its actual trailer. The upside-down kiss is gone, which makes everyone sad, and it seems far less rivals to lovers than the first iteration, which makes ME sad. But it still looks good and a more classic BL than GMMTV has given us in a while. New trailer focused more on the makeover trope and they’ve upped Mix’s role (the object of everyone’s affection) now that he’s proved himself. (Or they are using him more to carry the trailer since he has a fan base form 1k*). Starts April 9 on GMMTV in 1K*’s time slot, probably with a 10 ep run. 

2gether the movie is apparently coming April 22 to Thai theaters. F4 Thailand must be having issues or GMMTV just wants to milk the BrightWin cash cow. It’s rumored to be a combination of 2gehter + Still 2gether with some extra scenes and ending. Also, one assumes a lot will be cut out, if it’s movie length.

Call It What You Want released its updated trailer. If anything, it looks more scary than before. What are we in for? April 9th. 

Nitiman got a release date, May 7 on One31. 

I Told Sunset About You 2 got an updated release date of May 27 on LineTV. 

Second Chance the series is coming to LineTV on March 29. I don’t know much about this one. Tons of familiar faces (mostly TharnType side dishes) and some nice looking new talent but a dearth of eng subs. I think it may take on Brothers’ time slot. Line did eng subs for Brothers so maybe they will do 2nd Chance too? 

Close Friend the series is coming April 22. This is a combination of 6 couples with 6 story arcs as music videos (maybe)? It’s an epic fan service with familiar faces like OhmFluke (UWMA), MaxNat (LBC also in Y-Destiny), YoonLay (YYY also in Y-Destiny), KimCop (GenY), and JaFirst (TT2).

Y-Destiny starts March 30, and has starting dropping couple’s trailers. I’m still suspicious given the director but it seems like there is plot (or plots) and a theme. Looks to be a series of 7 single ep vignettes (amended, see comments, might be 2 eps each for 14 eps total), different couple each time, some with supernatural elements, all with decent chemistry and acting chops. 

Sun MaxNat’s tutor/student arc

Mon jaded rich kid meets poor innocent  

Tues sports romance enemies to lovers 

Weds the messy realistic actual dating one 

Thurs hot ghost boyfriend (sad) 

Fri YoonLayPerth coping with loss and finding new love (sad). This one will all rest on Lay's acting so we know it’s in safe hands. Our boy is going to KILL it. 

Sat time-slip memory loss reunion romance 

I’m thinking we can’t expect any of these to end happy or be classic BL. They’re gonna be more slice of life-ish. 

Gossip - BL Outside of Thailand 

Scholar Ryu’s Wedding Ceremony AKA Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding (Korean historical BL) got a legit teaser (eng sub here). @curriculumvtae​ reports that it’s releasing April 15th on WeTV (Philippines & Thailand) and Idol Romance (South Korea), while Will of Thai Bl says it’ll be on Viki too. It’s a short run of 8 ep built on a fake relationship trope (arranged marriage variant):

Ryu Ho Seon’s (Kang In Soo from You Wish) arranged marriage turns out to be with his expected bride’s brother, Choi Ki Wan (Lee Se Jin from Mr Heart). Ryu tries to undo the marriage, but his ill mother opposes this saying the scandal would be too much. Meanwhile, Kim Tae Hyeong (Jang Eui Soo from Where Your Eyes Linger), a senior at Ryu’s school, comes to congratulate him and falls in love with Choi. Then one day, the original bride disappears.

Okay it seems a bit twisty turny for ONLY 8 EPS, but oh my goodness how excited are we? Our first intentional historical BL out of Korea!

We already knew Hong Kong was doing a remake of Japan’s Ossan’s Love under the same name (not my favorite Japanese BL but so very popular) but it’s now reported to be coming to Viu in June. Who knows how the CFA will take it. Depends on whether Hong Kong bows before the NO GAY KISSES regs or if they are going to use this as a political nose thumb... things could get cray with this puppy (the original has several kisses and s shower scene). Are we back in Addicted territory only with added comedy and civil unrest?

Speaking of Japan, Absolute BL (AKA Zettai BL ni Naru Sekai vs Zettai BL ni Naritakunai Otoko) dropped sooner than anyone thought, March 27. But being Japanese who knows how/when/if we get subs. Protag finds himself trapped in a world of BL, but being straight he fights against any hot guy that draws near, but the whole world (literally) is conspiring against him. It’s a parody adapted from a yoai.

What with Absolute BL from Japan plus Lovely Writer and Call it What You Want from Thailand, is 2021 the year of BL being ultra self referential? Sure feels like it.

In Case You Missed It

Faded a gay micro film from Taiwan from 2017 deals with parental acceptance and serves up a ton of BL tropes (piggyback, forehead kiss, etc). I’m pretty sure this was a propaganda piece for legalization of gay marriage, and it’s an interesting nugget of BL history as a result. Yes, it ends happy. It’s cute. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed a day later than actual air date for accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

Man there’s a lot going on right now! Spring has sprung... I suppose. 

P.S. I cannot believe I missed Absolute BL as a blog name. Numbnuts = me. 

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Lie to Me

Prompts: Post Pof: Janus is not doing ok, everday he can taste Roman's lies, he can feel Roman's pain. He can feel the ego crumbling. Guilt plagues him as hes done the opposite of protecting the ego. Hey uh... could you write a fic when you have the time? - meltheromanstan

Roman is having issues trying to keep up his facade (and maybe struggling with his work cause ADHD makes everything difficult on top of everything because I love the idea of the twins having ADHD) and he is one bump in the road away from a full on meltdown. And Janus realizes a lie in a conversation that’s concerning and at some point in Roman begrudgingly gives a self deprecating reason and Janus is like heck no and Roman’s like why not and Janus is like because i care? And then Roman breaks down because no one has told him anything like that in a long time. Sorry that’s so long. You can write this whenever, or never if you don’t wanna. Anygay, bye and thank you! - anon

Thank you for the requests! oh this poor man. roman i'm so sorry you didn't do anything to deserve this and here I am hurting you. I'm so sorry bb you need to be wrapped up with a hot chocolate and sat far away from everything.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-hatred, self-doubt, poor roman’s got so much internalized hatred this poor man, some things that can be interpreted as self-harm but nothing explicit

Pairings: main focus on roceit but it can be platonic or romantic you decide, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR

Word Count: 10,554

Janus hears every single lie in the Mindscape. It doesn't matter whether or not the liar believes it to be true or knows it's a falsehood; if it isn't true, he hears it.

Roman lies. A lot.

Or: 5 times Janus had to hide that he was taking care of Roman, and 1 time he didn't.

1. 

They never gave Roman enough credit for how good of an actor he can be.

 The wedding is an absolute dumpster fire. The aftermath is a nuclear explosion. Roman sinks out in silence, long before the video is over. Virgil never shows up, neither does Remus. Logan is cut off before he can realize it.

 Well, that’s not true.

 Janus cuts Logan off before he can realize it.

 Because he didn’t care about them, no. Patton has the most influence over Thomas. Patton is the one who influences the other Sides more than they realize most of the time. And Patton is the one who needed to listen.

 So it didn’t matter that the others weren’t there when Janus had to talk to Patton and Thomas, because it worked. Thomas listened, Patton finally understood, and things could start getting better.

 …or so he thought.

 In fairness, the others came around…fairly quickly. He approached Logan with a book on philosophy and an apology on his lips, only to be swept up into a conversation that had drawn both Patton and Virgil into the living room by the end of the day. It felt…well, right isn’t the correct word, but…warm, perhaps. Yes, let’s go with warm.

 Of course, Remus belly-flopping onto the couch—and the rest of them—near the end was certainly an additional factor.

 But Roman…

 Janus didn’t expect Roman to forgive him. Certainly not quickly. He certainly expected Roman to forgive the others for whatever little parts they played in harming the prince’s precious ego. And he absolutely expected the prince to admit that he was wrong, that it was indeed his fault that everything had gone so spectacularly wrong.

 The first time Roman walks into the kitchen after the wedding, Janus flinches.

 Virgil notices and all but jumps in front of him, snarling a ‘what do you want?’ in Roman’s direction. Patton had turned around and his smile had frozen, staring at Roman.

 “Hello, Roman,” Logan says cooly, “may we help you?”

 “Yeesh, aren’t you lot jumpy this morning?” Roman shakes his head and sighs dramatically. “I am not here to grace you all with my glorious presence, simply to grab a little food and depart on a quest!”

 “Thank god,” Virgil mutters, too low for Roman to hear.

 He pushes Janus behind him as Roman waltzes into the kitchen to take something out of the cupboard.

 “…when will you be back,” Patton asks warily, “and where are you going?”

 “Into the Imagination, my dear Padre!” Roman spreads his arms wide. “To see where the spirit of adventure takes me!”

 “That answers only one of the questions.” Logan closes his notebook sharply.

 “Time is a social construct,” Roman says airily, “but I suppose I shall try to return for dinner?”

 “Don’t force yourself,” Virgil snarks, crossing his arms, “looks hard enough already.”

 Roman just laughs and leaves.

 “Goodness,” Patton mumbles, leaning on the counter, “I didn’t expect him to be so—so—“

 “Roman?” Virgil rolls his eyes. “Princey’s got a head bigger than a fucking balloon—“

 “Language.”

 “—and he’s not gonna come down to earth for anything.”

 “Roman is—or can be—remarkably immature when it comes to admitting his mistakes,” Logan adds, “it’s not to be completely unexpected that he is still in denial.”

 Patton sighs. “I know, I just…expected better.”

 “Don’t hold your breath,” Virgil huffs, “what about you, Janus? Are you hurt?”

 “I also noticed you flinch,” Logan says, standing, “are you alright? Did Roman…”

 “He didn’t hurt you, did he, kiddo?”

 No. No, Janus is absolutely fine right now.

 The instant Roman had appeared in the doorway, the lies slammed into Janus.

  They hate you, they never want to see you again.

  Everything is your fault.

  Virgil is right to try and shield Janus from you, you were so fucking cruel to him.

  They don’t deserve to be burdened with you.

  Leave. Leave so they never have to put up with you. You know they don’t want you.

  They’ve never wanted you.

 And yet, as clearly as he heard those lies, he heard Roman, the blustery, pompous Prince, loud as ever, spoiled as ever. He saw Roman, the swaggering adventurer, the cocky Creativity who was always right, always the center of attention.

 The actor.

 Janus had definitely given him enough credit for that.

 “Janus?”

 Right, they’re still waiting for an answer.

 “I’m fine,” he says, a beat too late, “just caught off guard, that’s all.”

 Virgil eyes him suspiciously. “You’re lying.”

 “Well of course I am,” Janus sighs, rolling his eyes, “it’s not like Deceit is one of my primary functions, after all.”

 “Kiddo,” Patton says, “you know you can tell us if Roman—if someone hurts you, right?”

 Something pinches just under his chin. “I know.”

 “…so?”

 He shakes his head. “Roman hasn’t hurt me, nor has he threatened to.”

 Virgil bumps his shoulder. “Just…keep us in the loop, okay?”

 “Because it’s very likely that Roman will hurt me.”

 The others chuckle or brush it off. Of course, they did. When they aren’t paying attention, Janus lets his gaze trail up the stairs, following the line where the prince vanished. The others have never paid much attention to when Roman returns from his ‘quests.’

 Janus does.

 Even if Janus weren’t consciously coming to the prince’s aid, he’s certain he’d be summoned regardless.

 He waits, quiet in the shadows, for the telltale squeak of the lower hinge on the red wardrobe door in Roman’s room. He’s learned to keep still, keep quiet, not yet fully materialized, watching as Roman stumbles back through the door, one of his arms sagging in relief as the other holds him up. The door creaks shut and a shuddering breath leaves the prince’s chest.

 His head bows.

 Before the charade completely falls away, Roman pushes himself up and starts getting ready to sleep. His sash, normally laid so carefully over the back of his chair, is given barely a second thought as he throws his costume onto the floor. Janus winces at the slam of the bathroom door and again at the way Roman all but collapses into the bed with a miserable expression on his face. He doesn’t need to pry away the pillow to know that Roman is desperate.

  Stupid, stupid, worthless prince.

  Not even a fucking prince, not even the fucking squire.

  Useless, can’t even do your fucking job.

  Can’t even stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself even though you know damn well you don’t deserve it.

  You don’t deserve anything.

 Janus grits his teeth and waits. Waits for Roman’s lies to grow less vitriolic, more sluggish, waits for Roman’s breathing to even out, sagging against the pillow, before he moves.

 His footsteps are silent as he crosses the room, keeping a wary eye on the door, lest someone else knock and wake up the now sleeping prince. He swallows, leaning down, his lips barely brushing the curve of Roman’s ear.

 He doesn’t touch, doesn’t want to risk waking him now.

 “You’re not stupid, Roman,” he whispers, barely loud enough to be heard, even by himself. “You’re not worthless, you’ve never been worthless.”

 Roman shifts in his sleep. Janus freezes. He stills and he breathes out. Bends just a little closer.

 “And you deserve to know that.”

 Even if he can only even whisper it when Roman is too deep in sleep to hear him.

 2. 

The lies don’t stop. They just get worse.

 Fortunately, Janus’s powers aren’t limited by the physical space, not when the lies are particularly pervasive. For example, every time Logan insists that he doesn’t have feelings, or Virgil insists he doesn’t care about the others, or Patton says—particularly passionately—that everything’s fine, Janus hears it. These ones typically merit a scoff and a roll of the eyes, or a quip if he’s actually in the same room. These ones he’s used to.

 Here’s the thing about the lies that Janus can hear; it doesn’t matter whether or not they’re lies that someone knows is a lie or whether it’s something they believe. If it isn’t true, Janus will hear it.

 Case in point: Roman’s lies, and the lies that took Janus far too long to figure out were lies.

 When he decides to tune into Roman’s mind, he’s normally greeted with statements lauding about how amazing the prince is, how he’s the best Side, how much he loves himself. Even when he’s not paying particular attention to Roman, he can hear those sentiments loud and clear.

 The issue with that? He can hear them loud and clear.

 Now, is it likely that these are things that Roman believes that aren’t true? The possibility exists.

 Is it more likely, given recent…developments, that these are things that Roman has known aren’t true, and is intentionally thinking them in order to keep playing a role?

 No, of course not, why would you ever think that?

 They won’t go away. He can barely look at Roman now, can’t stop seeing, hearing all the lies he tells himself every day. The others are starting to worry, growing colder towards Roman, concerned about how much Janus tries to put distance between them. Virgil keeps shoving himself in between the two of them, Logan keeps pulling Janus into long conversations that Roman wouldn’t dare insert himself into, Patton makes sure the two of them are never alone.

 Well, almost never alone.

 The lies are the worst at night. When Roman is in his room, curled up under the covers, his head buried in his hands, they roam freely, coloring the red curtains with shadows, smearing themselves over his paintings, his drawings, his writing, his keyboard.

  They’re right to be scared of you, right to hate you.

  You don’t deserve their forgiveness, especially when you haven’t even apologized for the amount of things you’ve done wrong.

  And you’re selfish enough to want a fucking apology from them?

 Janus, waiting in the corner for Roman to fall asleep, winces, the strength and magnitude of the lie filling his mouth with bitterness.

 Does he deserve an apology from Roman? Yes, perhaps, that would be nice. Laughing at his name in a moment of vulnerability was…perhaps not ideal.

 But the idea that Roman doesn’t deserve an apology? From any of them?

 Roman, the only one who consistently defers and gives and tries and hopes for them, the one who works nonstop to make sure they have something, anything to do, for Thomas, for each other, the only one who’s called out to apologize to them, who apologizes to them when he realizes he’s done something wrong?

 Roman deserves an apology. If only to make up for the amount of times he’s been blamed for something that someone else started.

 A noise.

 Janus blinks, coming back to the present as Roman stirs. For a moment, he worries that the prince has woken up, that he’s discovered someone else in his room, only for a trail of sluggish lies to funnel into his mind.

  Janus hates you more than anyone else and he’s right to.

  You hurt Janus on purpose.

  You never stop hurting Janus.

  You will always be someone he can use, a puppet, until you are nothing more than an obstacle.

 Before he can stop himself, he’s striding across the room to murmur in Roman’s ear again, chest aching with the weight of the lies.

 “The others,” he murmurs, flooding the words with as much sincerity as he can, “they don’t know what I can hear, what they have never noticed, and that is what hurts me, my prince, that you are so quiet and so brave that you can convince the world that you’re not suffering.”

 Roman clutches his pillow a little tighter.

 “I don’t hate you, my prince, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me like that, and I know—“ he takes a deep breath— “I know that the hurt you caused me is nothing compared to what I have done to you.”

 He closes his eyes and feels the guilt well up in his chest. He knows he can’t say the full apology that Roman needs—that he deserves right now. He can’t even begin to imagine all the little things he hasn’t even realized he’s done to Roman, how many things he’s done that he’s forgotten that were just another Tuesday to him, but rewrote entire chapters of Roman’s life.

 He can’t begin to imagine how much of this could’ve been stopped if only he’d realized just how hurt Roman has always been.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m sorry that I never realized how far I let this get.”

 3. 

Roman is touch-starved, he realized, horrified one day when he walks into the living room to see Logan and Patton sitting on the couch, Virgil sprawled across their laps, and Roman in the corner, far away from everyone else, hiding such a look of heartbreak that Janus almost stops in the doorway as Remus brushes past him.

 “Hey!” Virgil splutters when Remus lies down on top of him.

 “Remus!” Patton pushes lightly at him. “You’re going to squish Virgil!”

 “He’s durable, he’s used to it.”

 Logan raises his eyebrows, looking to Janus for confirmation. Janus sighs.

 “I can remember every single time I’ve walked into our living room to see the two of them on the couch,” he says dryly, “and I’m certain that all of them have started with Remus asking Virgil’s permission to lie on top of him for hours.”

 “See?” Remus wraps his arms around Virgil. “He’s fine.”

 “Yeah, yeah, Pat and L’s knees won’t be though.”

 “Ooh! Did you know that some people have a third bone in their knee?”

 “I would be more than happy to follow this train of conversation,” Logan mutters, “if you were to get off my lap.”

 “Fine.”

 Janus shakes his head again as Remus clambers off, landing cross-legged next to Logan on the couch and immediately info-dumping. Virgil sighs and scoots, laying his head in Patton’s lap and going back to his phone. Patton runs his hand through Virgil’s hair and wiggles his free hand at Janus.

 “Come on, there’s plenty of room.”

 Remus snorts, interrupting his tirade long enough to say: “Jan-Jan’s not a cuddler,” before going back to talking about…something to do with knees. Patton frowns.

 “What?”

 “’S true.” Virgil peers up at him. “He’ll hug you if you ask for it but he’s not big on cuddling.”

 “O-oh.”

 “He should still come sit with us, though,” Virgil says quickly, shooting Janus a very subtle look, “so get over here, J.”

 Janus sits, pulling out his book and opening it. After a few seconds, Patton looks away, and Virgil tunes out again.

 Good.

 The lies were getting a little too hard to stand.

 Here, behind his book, he can shift his attention to Roman, scribbling in his notebook and looking every bit the creative genius at work, dead to the world, couldn’t give less interest as to what’s going on around him.

 As he said, Roman is a fantastic actor.

 This time, it’s not even that the words are the thing hurting him now. No, these lies are the type he’s more used to, someone frantically muttering the same thing to themselves over and over and over, trying to convince themselves it’s true. The problem is what’s being carried with the lies, and how deep this need must run in order for it to make it to Janus.

  I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it.

 Roman’s hand is trembling a little on his pen as his brow furrows, eyes skating back and forth over the page. The ache starts just under his chin, right where it meets his throat, and surges, rushing through his arms to the very tips of his fingers. All of them, even the hidden ones. His gloves twitch on the pages of the book.

 He’s so cold.

  I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it. I don’t need it.

 The words start to blur together. It hurts. His arms ache. He risks looking more openly at Roman only for him to notice, looking back and quirking an eyebrow.

 “Something wrong, Deceit?”

 “He has a name,” Virgil growls.

 “Janus,” Roman amends, shooting Virgil a glance, “is there something wrong?”

 “Why’re you over there?”

 He meant to ask why Roman wasn’t sitting with the other Sides. He meant to ask whether Roman chose to sit by himself and starve himself of physical contact or if the others had cut him off. He meant to ask if Roman wanted to come to sit with the rest of them.

 Instead, Roman smiles.

 “You’re right. It’s getting quite late. I must be off!”

 Before Janus can say anything, Roman assumes his dramatic pose and sinks out, cheerily declaring his farewells.

 Next to him, Patton lets out a shaky breath.

 “Goodness.”

 Logan adjusts his glasses. “Quite.”

 “Thanks, Janus,” Virgil mutters, making himself more comfortable, “I thought he’d never leave.”

 No.

 No, no, no, this is all wrong.

 “Why did you want him to leave?”

 Virgil shrugs. “It’s harder when he’s here.”

 “Harder how?”

 “We do not know how to act around Roman,” Logan admits, fixing his tie, “he’s not—well, he seems content to behave as if nothing is wrong, and…”

 “It’s not,” Patton says softly. He fiddles with his hands. “We can’t go back to the way it was before, and Roman…Roman doesn’t seem to know how to move on.”

 Virgil snorts. “Not that he seems to care enough to try.”

 Well, if the lies still plaguing Roman’s thoughts are any indication…

  Why would they want to touch you? You ruin everything you touch, haven’t you ruined enough already? Haven’t you ruined them enough already?

  They’re done trying with you. They hate you. It’s a wonder they only realize it now.

  Broken, useless, toxic prince. Finally left out in the cold where you deserve to be.

 Roman curls up under his thin sheet, the heavy blankets put away for the colder seasons too far away and too close to Patton’s room for him to get them safely. Janus watches as he twitches miserably, curling up tighter, turning over, hugging his pillow to his chest, trying, trying to feel warm. Every now and then there’s a quiet noise, quickly stifled. His arms start to ache again, not just from the cold, but from how much Roman seems to believe that no one wants to touch him.

 He makes up his mind.

 He sinks out to his room, quickly grabbing one of his weighted blankets from his own storage. Returning to Roman’s room, he waits with bated breath until Roman’s chest rises and falls at a steady rate before carefully creeping forward and spreading the blanket over the prince.

 “Don’t make yourself cold,” he murmurs, tucking it into place, “stay warm for me, my prince, stay warm, it’s alright.”

 Roman shifts, turning his head so it accidentally brushes Janus’s hand.

 Janus freezes.

 Roman hums slightly and falls back asleep. Shaking, Janus moves his fingers, letting them card through Roman’s hair. The prince mumbles and doesn’t wake.

 He does it again, firmer this time. Roman all but melts under this, just this, just a proper blanket over him and someone running their fingers through his hair.

 “Oh, Roman,” Janus murmurs, unable to resist cupping Roman’s face in his hand, “you’re don’t ruin everything you touch, far from it.”

 He cups the back of Roman’s head, guiding it to a more comfortable angle.

 “On the contrary,” he whispers, “you make us better.”

 And maybe…maybe he can try and provide a little of what Roman needs. Even if they have to be stolen moments, felt only on the very edges of sleep, when Roman is conscious enough to remember them but not lucid enough to lie and say he doesn’t deserve it.

 4. 

The time when Roman barely managed to stumble through the door in his room before passing out is the only time Janus seriously considers calling the others to help.

 But no, he reminds himself as he rushes to the prince’s side, they would want to wake him up, to scold him, to figure out exactly what he thought he was doing, whether or not he’s considered whether this is hurting Thomas.

 Janus bites back a growl as he starts examining the prince.

 Perhaps if they were so concerned about whether or not hurting Roman hurts Thomas, they’d be more considerate about what they say to him.

 He pushes that away for now, more focused on getting Roman’s tight collar away from his neck and checking the state of his bruises. From what he can see from the dirt on the costume, he’s fallen, from quite a significant height, and who knows what else might be hiding under here?

 “I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he looks around for something to help, “but I may have to peel you out of these.”

 Sure enough, he can get most of the costume top off fairly easily—and gains a newfound respect for how difficult it must be to put the thing on by himself, there are so many buttons—but the undershirt proves more difficult, especially as it seems to be stuck in places that it should not be stuck in.

 …oh.

 Oh, no.

 Janus bites back a curse and moves quickly. One arm reaches for the first aid kit he knows is in the bathroom, one arm grabs a pillow and stuffs it under Roman’s head, two gently move his arms up and over his head, and two carefully, carefully take the edge of the undershirt and beginning to take it off.

 He presses a gauze pad to the wound over Roman’s hip.

 He holds an ice pack to the swollen lump on his rib cage.

 He checks over the wound on his chest.

 He tilts Roman’s head from side to side to see how far up the bruises go.

 The pants have to come next and Janus grits his teeth, running his hand over Roman’s forehead as an apology before he shucks the article of clothing.

 More bruises. So many bruises. Thankfully no more bleeding wounds.

 He lets out a breath and sits back on his haunches, staring down at the injured prince.

 The best thing about it, he decides, is that there’s no way for Roman to know that he would’ve been safe passing out and not taking care of any of these.

 The wound on his hip has all but stopped bleeding as Janus tends to it carefully, wiping away the blood and soothing the angry skin with a balm, covering the whole thing with a bandage. The mark on his chest isn’t as bad as it looks, bits of dead skin that Janus clears away and brushes off Roman’s torso. The antiseptic makes him hiss a little and he rubs soothing circles into his tummy until he resettles, murmuring that he’s doing so well, he’s almost done, they’ll get him into bed and he can rest.

 None of the bruises on his legs are bad enough to merit bruise cream, let alone keeping the poor thing from his bed for a moment longer. Instead, Janus quickly covers the one on his ribs and lifts the prince into his arms.

 Roman jolts.

 “Shh, shh,” Janus murmurs, stroking a free hand through his hair, “shh, shh, shh…”

 Roman shushes, just in time for Janus to lie him down and tuck him in, one hand still in his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed. A furrow grows between his brows.

  Should’ve gotten hurt worse.

 Janus freezes.

  Should’ve let them hit you more.

  Got off too easy.

  It should hurt more. You deserve it. Maybe if you pay enough it’ll get better.

 “No, sweetie,” Janus whispers, reaching out before he can stop himself and cradling Roman’s sleeping head in his hands, “no, no, no, don’t ever believe that we want to see you hurt.”

  Shouldn’t have come back.

  Shouldn’t be a burden.

  At least none of the others know about it, they would only complain and ignore you. Useless, worthless prince.

 “You’re not worthless, sweetie,” Janus promises, still cradling the poor thing’s head, running his fingers through his hair to keep him lulled and asleep, “shh, now, everything’s alright, hush now…”

 As the lies drift off into nothingness, Roman along with them, Janus’s face falls.

 Roman is the protector. The prince that will always put himself between them and whatever dared to try and hurt them. He’s not meant to fight a war on two fronts.

  Who protects the protector?

 “I will, sweetie,” Janus whispers, so, so quietly as he tidies up Roman’s room and gives the sleeping prince one last pat, “I’ll look after you.”

 5. 

Roman, perhaps more than any of the others, is essential to Thomas’s mental help.

 Roman is Thomas’s hopes and dreams, the things he wants above all else, the things he strives for, the things he desires. He reaches and reaches and reaches for Thomas, holds every single one of his wants close to his chest, and keeps them safe until they can bubble up into reality.

 Roman is romance, the reason Patton gets all fluttery and bubbly inside. He’s the suave, fabulous, gay disaster that encourages Thomas to be happy, to reach for who he wants, for who he desires.

 Roman is creativity, the livelihood that Thomas has chosen. He works nonstop, tirelessly producing idea after idea for Thomas to film, to write, to create, so Thomas can live and be proud of what he’s doing.

 Roman is the Ego.

 What is the Ego, you may ask? Well, although Freud is largely considered bullshit by modern psychologists—or at the very least, upsetting due to the fact that his research was largely corrupted by the rich men funding it—there are certain aspects of his work that remain in the public mind.

 Simply put, the Ego is the conscious mind. It is the sum of your thoughts, beliefs, and habits as they interact with your physical body. The tether that stretches into your awareness and consciousness and into your physical form. It is a combination of body-thoughts-feelings and the consciousness taken to activate it.

 The Ego gives you a sense of self-worth. It is a mask, one you put on and play as a role.

 Everyone and anyone, it seems, has been warned about the dangers of an out-of-control Ego. Overconfident, hubristic, arrogant, with no regard for others. A vapid complainer, sustained by the power of approval hoarded selfishly. You are encouraged, if not instructed outright, to learn how to live without paying any attention to your Ego.

 Here’s what they don’t tell you.

 The Ego is what you think of yourself. It gives you self-worth because that’s its job. To make you feel secure in who you are. It is sustained by approval because it lives in fear. It itself puts on a mask of strength, of imperviousness, that it is indestructible, because it is soft, malleable, and so very afraid.

 It is true that the Ego is nourished by positive comments, because it isn’t a crime to feel good, or to feel proud, or to want to be validated. It is true that the Ego sometimes reaches too high, only to fall, because that is its nature, to want, and to hope.

 They don’t tell you that when you turn your hatred inwards, your Ego doesn’t just bruise, it crumbles.

 So when Logan constantly tells Roman that they can’t do something, or it isn’t a worthy use of their time, despite his best intentions, he’s not doing much other than snatching Roman’s dreams away. Roman learns not to ignore Logan, yes, but at the expense of constantly being told that it is his fault when Thomas feels crushed, never mind that Roman is crushed, too.

 So when Virgil insults and belittles his worth, tells him he’s stupid and unimportant, despite the fact that Roman will snipe back at him, all he does is reinforce the idea that Roman is the only one at fault, that Virgil is allowed to sit and insult him to his heart’s content while Roman has to apologize for standing up for himself. Roman learns to stand quietly while Virgil tells Thomas he’s a disappointment until the time comes where he believes it’s true.

 So when Patton decides that Roman is bad, after how much Roman has sacrificed for Patton, to do what would make Patton happy, Thomas happy, when all he needs is just someone on his side, something, anything, Roman has to stand there, alone, hurt, angry, upset, and be told that he’s wrong. Roman learns that he’s only here to give, not to receive, that no one will hold him when he falls apart.

 So when Remus starts to show up, more and more, less and less restrained, no one puts it together that Roman literally does not have the strength to hold him back. Roman learns that the others don’t realize how little confidence he already has, only that their approval of him is directly proportional to how much they hate his brother.

 So when Janus decides that Thomas needs to take better care of himself and that the only one he needs to focus on is Patton, Roman is the perfect tool, the perfect puppet, to be used and tossed aside when he no longer needs him, because it’s so easy to twist and turn the little prince so he dances in just the right way, never mind how much it hurts. Roman learns that no one ever cared about him, not really, and perhaps they never will.

 As you might be able to imagine, destroying the thing that gives one self-worth is absolutely the best way to go about things.

 Can any of you guess where the blame gets pushed when Thomas’s mental health suddenly plummets?

 It’s definitely where it should be.

 The thing that scares Janus the most about how that meeting goes is how resigned Roman is.

 His hands are folded neatly behind his back. His face is politely blank. His mind is quiet.

 When there’s a break in the conversation—if you could even call it that—he opens his mouth.

 “What would you like me to do?”

 “Have you not been listening?” Logan adjusts his glasses. “To…anything we have said?”

 “Of fucking course he hasn’t,” Virgil grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets.

 “Kiddo,” Patton admonishes, crossing his arms, “Thomas hasn’t had any ideas or dreams lately and it’s stressing him out.”

 “Which means you need to get out of the pity party and back to reality with the rest of us,” Virgil adds.

 “Which means,” Logan sighs, crossing his arms too, “you are going to have to start talking to us again.”

 Roman looks between them. “Are we not…talking now?”

 “He means actually interacting with us, Princey.”

 “Have I…not been doing that?”

 “It means accepting that things have changed,” Logan snaps, “and working through it.”

 Roman tilts his head. “How would you like me to do that?”

 “Well—“ Logan adjusts his glasses— “let’s start with an apology.”

 Something flickers across Roman’s face. Janus looks back and forth between Thomas and Remus. Thomas just looks a little confused as to what’s going on—which, when doesn’t he?—and Remus is staring right at Roman. There’s a strange expression on his face.

 “What would you like me to apologize for?”

 Janus winces when Virgil scoffs, turning away, and Logan’s mouth hardens into a thin line.

 “Why don’t you try starting,” Patton says, “and we’ll see.”

 “No, you know what? No.” Virgil points a finger at Roman. “I’m done holding your hand through all of this. Waiting for you to realize that you fucked up.”

 “Virgil—“

 “No, Pat!” Virgil gestures between the three of them. “You know how hard it’s been on us, waiting for something to change, and now he wants us to just…what, walk him through what he did wrong?”

 Patton spares a glance at Roman before looking away.

 Roman’s face twitches. He looks down.

 “Perhaps Virgil is right,” Logan says, “when Roman can try taking the first step, then maybe this conversation will be more productive. Until then, I see no reason to waste time.”

 “Great. Bye, Thomas.”

 “Wait, you guys are just leaving?”

 “I see no reason to simply stand here and be unproductive,” Logan shrugs, “perhaps if something changes, you can summon us back.”

 “Doubt it,” Virgil mutters, grabbing Logan’s shoulder and sinking them out. Patton spares one last look at Roman before he leaves too.

 Thomas shuffles a little. Remus keeps staring at Roman.

 After a moment, Roman moves.

 “…you want me to apologize?”

 Janus definitely imagines the chill that goes through the room.

 Roman raises his head. He does not look at where Patton stood, he does not look at where Virgil stood, he does not look at where Logan stood.

 He looks directly at Thomas.

 “I’m sorry, Thomas.”

 Thomas splutters. “Roman—“

 “I’m sorry that I sent you to the wedding,” Roman says softly, Thomas’s words dying in his throat, “I’m sorry that I made a decision that I thought you wanted. I’m sorry that I tried to put your friends above your own wants, because I thought that was right. I’m sorry that I thought I was doing what was right.”

 Thomas’s eyes go wide.

 “I’m sorry that you never had faith that you would win the callback,” Roman continues, never once looking away from Thomas, “I’m sorry that your dreams are always too far away, that you must always feel the need to crush them in favor of what is more practical. I’m sorry that you constantly feel like you’re set up to be one big disappointment.”

 Janus’s arms drop in shock.

 “I’m sorry that I can’t do what you want,” and by this point, Thomas looks on the verge of tears, “even though that’s supposed to be my job. I’m sorry that nothing I do is ever good enough on its own, that you feel so afraid, so scared of doing the things you want. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel even the tiniest bit of my fear.”

 Thomas stifles a noise.

 “I’m sorry that I don’t know things.” Roman chuckles sadly. “I’m sorry that it takes me so much time to figure out what to do. I’m sorry that it always feels like everyone’s one step ahead of me, that you have to wait for me to catch up, even though I never, ever do. I’m sorry for not sticking to the plan.”

 Something heavy presses against Janus’s throat.

 “And I’m sorry that I’m hurt. I’m sorry that it’s been a little too much for me to handle. I’m sorry that my pain is an inconvenience to you.”

 “R-Roman—“

 Roman just smiles sadly when Thomas can’t finish the sentence. He spreads his arms, giving a little gesture to himself.

 “I’m sorry that this is your Ego.”

 Janus sees the moment the horrified realization dawns on Thomas’s face.

 “I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Remus snarls and it’s only years of practice that makes Janus’s reflexes fast enough to catch hold of him before he sinks out. “Let me go!”

 “You can’t hurt them,” Janus grunts, “you know you can’t.”

 “Fucking watch me!”

 “No, no, Remus,” Thomas splutters, “don’t—don’t do that.”

 “Why the fuck not?” Remus snarls, spittle flying from his lips as he struggles against Janus’s hold. “You heard what Roman just said, they—they—“

 “We did it too, Remus,” Janus says softly, glancing at Roman, “we’re not blameless either.”

 Remus keeps struggling. “Let—me—“

 “Remus.”

 Roman’s soft voice still the duke entirely, his head whipping around. Roman just stares at him, resignation and acceptance written plainly on his features.

 “It’s not fair, Ro,” he mumbles.

 “Life isn’t fair.”

 “I—I can summon them back, we can get them back, they can listen to you—“

 “But they won’t,” Roman cuts off in the same soft fury, “they won’t listen to me.”

 “Roman, they love you!”

 Janus winces. Roman just turns to look at him. He can’t meet his eyes.

 “Maybe,” Roman says eventually, “maybe not. Either way…”

 He spreads his hands.

 “Here we are.”

 “Let me go, Jan.”

 “If I do, will you stay?”

 “Fine.”

 Janus lets him go, only for Remus to lunge and wrap his brother in a tight hug. Roman stands there, immobile, until Remus lets out a howl. Roman just murmurs another soft ‘I’m sorry,' and sinks out.

 Remus collapses to the floor, his Morningstar cupped in his hands.

 “What—what just happened?”

 “The twins share things,” Janus murmurs quietly, his eyes still on Remus, “including emotions when they are particularly strong.”

 “So—“ Thomas shakes his head— “so Remus is feeling what Roman’s feeling?”

 “No,” Remus snarls, still gripping the weapon tightly, “I’m feeling what Roman isn’t feeling.”

 He stands up, eyes blazing.

 “I am what Roman isn’t. To you. What Roman isn’t, I am. Which means—“ his knuckles turn white— “the fact that I’m feeling so strongly right now means that Roman isn’t.”

 Thomas goes pale. “What?”

 “Roman is numb,” Janus says quietly, “he’s closed himself off from…everything. To protect himself.”

 “It means my brother, the good Creativity, passion, desire, romance, hopes and dreams, whatever you want to call him,” Remus growls, “is now numb, touch-starved, and too afraid of rejection to reach out for anything.”

 “What do I do,” Thomas asks frantically, “how do we fix this?”

 “You can let me kill the others.”

 “No, Remus.”

 “Talk to them,” Janus suggests instead, “I’m not sure they realize what Roman being the Ego means.”

 Thomas nods. “Okay, we can do that. Should we do that…now?”

 Janus opens his mouth to respond only for something very familiar to trickle into his mind, along with an all-too-familiar tug.

  Stupid, useless, worthless, toxic, dumb, unimportant, bad, can’t do anything right, selfish, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong—

 “Not now,” he manages, “get some rest. You need it.”

 Thomas nods tiredly. Remus just gives him a look that says ‘you’d better not fuck this up’ and leaves, probably to go work out some of his aggression on creatures in the Imagination.

 Janus sinks straight into Roman’s room and his heart breaks.

 Roman is on the floor, pieces of his prince costume thrown haphazardly around him, sobbing hysterically. It’s so loud that for a moment, Janus worries that someone else will come, trying to figure out what’s wrong, before he’s hit with another wave of lies.

  Broken broken broken broken broken broken broken broken wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless hopeless—

 He aches.

 Because he knows he can’t do anything while Roman’s awake. He’d never let him close, never let him see this. A sick feeling crawls into Janus’s stomach at the thought of invading Roman’s privacy like this but it wars with the knowledge that he’d be summoned anyway, and that Roman is falling apart.

 So he has to wait.

 Watching as Roman falls apart, believing himself unloved, unwanted, and unseen.

 Slowly, far too slowly, the harsh sobs morph into softer cries, then sniffles, then Roman stills, slumping on the carpet as his breathing evens out. Tears of his own threaten the corners of Janus’s eyes.

 The poor thing cried himself to sleep.

 But as he moves closer, reaching out a hand to stroke back his hair, he lets out a coo before he can stop himself when he sees more tears.

 The poor thing cried himself to sleep and kept crying.

 “Oh, sweetie,” Janus whispers, moving to cradle him as gently as he can without waking him, “sweetie you come here, shh, shh, honey, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

 He lifts the poor prince into his arms, moving swiftly to the bed and laying him down, tucking him in protectively and running his fingers through his hair.

 “It’s okay, sweetie, you’re safe now, it’s okay, you’re safe…” He settles Roman’s head on the pillow. “Shh, shh, shh, that’s it, shh…”

 Sleep-clumsy fingers curl around his arms. Oh. Oh, dear. Well…

 “Oh, sweetie, are you—do you want me to stay?” Janus tries to pull away a bit only for Roman to grumble and hang on. “Oh—okay, sweetie, I’ll stay, just—just a moment.”

 He snaps the fingers on a free hand and changes into something softer, something he can sleep in, something Roman can hold and cuddle. He slides into bed next to him, only to be immediately cuddled by a sleeping, still crying Roman.

 “Shh, sweetie,” he whispers, nuzzling Roman’s head, “I’m right here, I’m not leaving, I won’t leave you.”

 Roman mumbles something and snuggles into Janus’s chest. He makes another comforting noise at the evidence of more tears.

 “It’s gonna be okay, sweetie, I promise, I’ll look after you, I’ll take care of you.”

 And when Roman lets out a little cry, still asleep, he breaks, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

 Roman melts.

 “Oh, sweetie…”

 Janus spoils him with kisses, across his forehead, down his tear-stained cheeks, running his hands through his hair, down his arms, over his back, soothing a particularly painful hitch with a hand on his tummy, rubbing gently until he lapses back into a peaceful sleep. He buries his face in Roman’s hair and holds him tight.

 He swallows heavily, guilt and concern warring in his throat.

 “I don’t want you to think,” he begins carefully, “that I’m only apologizing because I feel guilty over seeing you hurt and that it’s my fault.”

 He tightens his grip on the sleeping prince.

 “I am sorry, Roman,” he whispers with his lips against Roman’s forehead as if to speak the truth into the prince’s dreams, “for all the hurt I have caused you. For using and manipulating you, for dismissing you and letting you think you were useless, and for letting the others make you believe you were so unlovable.”

 He shudders, his breath coming out shaky.

 “But mostly…” he swallows, “mostly I’m sorry that I won’t be brave enough to say that to you when you’re awake.”

 +1.

Janus blinks. There’s sunlight coming in through the curtains.

 His room definitely has curtains.

 Oh. Right. He’s in Roman’s room.

 Shit, he’s still in Roman’s room.

 He’s fallen asleep, he realizes, in Roman’s bed, with Roman cuddled protectively to his chest, after the poor thing had sobbed himself to sleep in the aftermath of that awful, awful meeting.

 Unconsciously, he goes to tighten his grip on the sleeping prince before realizing that he should be doing the opposite.

 He should leave. Now. Before Roman wakes up and sees him.

 He definitely wants to be around for that conversation.

 So, despite the ache in his stomach at the thought of leaving Roman alone right now, he grits his teeth and starts trying to disentangle himself from Roman, despite Roman’s best efforts to cling onto him. If he weren’t so afraid of the consequences of getting caught, he’d find it adorable.

 Okay, maybe he still finds it adorable.

 But Roman’s so soft when he sleeps, so lovely, so unabashed at chasing what he wants. He clings to Janus’s shirt with clumsy fingers, burbles soft noises of protest when Janus’s warmth leaves his side.

 “Come on, sweetie,” Janus coaxes, gently prying Roman’s fingers off, “let me go, you don’t want me to be here when you wake up.”

 “Mmno.”

 “You say that now…” He still won’t let go. “Come on, sweetie, let me go…”

 He leans down to press a kiss to his cheek, hoping Roman will melt and he can escape.

 “That’s it, just go back to sleep, sweetie,” he murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic, carding his fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead, “sleep, sleep, sleep…”

 “Stay,” comes the sleepy little mumble, its voice still lost in the dream, “take care ‘f me.”

 The earnest plea brings a sad little smile to Janus’s face.

 “If you knew who I was,” he whispers, “you wouldn’t ask that.”

 Roman opens his eyes and stares right at him.

 Janus freezes, his hands still caught in Roman’s hair, Roman’s hands still gripping his shirt.

 “Stay,” Roman repeats, his tongue thick with sleep but awake, “don’t run away this time.”

 This time?

 Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh, no.

 Janus swallows. “How long—“

 “You said you didn’t hate me,” Roman mumbles, still tugging on Janus’s shirt to get him back, “and that it hurt more that the others didn’t realize.”

 “You were supposed to be asleep.”

 “You were supposed to hate me.” Roman tugs harder. “Come back.”

 Janus gets slowly back into position, letting Roman cling to him like a child with a teddy bear. Without permission, his own arms wrap around the sleepy prince, and Roman all but purrs.

 “We c’n talk later,” the prince mumbles, already drifting back to sleep, “but stay. Want you to stay.”

 And…well, if it’s the first time Roman’s asked for something he wants in god knows how long, what else is Janus supposed to do but obey?

 “Alright, sweetie, I’m right here,” he murmurs, curling his arms tightly around the poor prince, “do you want to try and go back to sleep?”

 “Mm.”

 But his eyes don’t drift closed. Instead, they stay glassily alert, one hand fisted loosely in the slack of Janus’s shirt.

 “Sweetie,” Janus calls after a little, “do you want to change into something easier to sleep in?”

 He lifts one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug.

 “Can I help?”

 Another shrug. Janus tucks a loose piece of hair behind Roman’s ear, snapping his fingers to put the costume on the mannequin in the closet and replace it with a soft red shirt and boxers. He presses another kiss to Roman’s forehead and ruffles his hair.

 “Why don’t you hate me?”

 Janus frowns, pulling Roman closer. “How could I hate you?”

 He holds a finger gently up to the prince’s lips before the lies can fill Roman’s head again.

 “Let me rephrase: I don’t hate you, Roman, I promise.”

 Roman’s disbelief is palpable. “But why?”

 ...maybe he is going to have to do this.

 “I can hear lies,” he murmurs, “whenever someone says them or thinks them. If they’re not true, I’ll hear it. No, no—stay here, sweetie, shh, I’m not angry, I’m not disappointed. I can hear them when you tell yourself that you’re worthless, or toxic, or that we all hate you.”

 He lifts Roman’s chin gently.

 “They’re lies, sweetie, that’s why I can hear them. You’re not worthless, you’re not toxic.”

 Roman whimpers.

 “You’re not broken,” he continues softly, holding him still, “you’re not hard to love, we don’t hate you.”

 He cups Roman’s face and pulls him in to rest their foreheads together.

 “And I care about you, sweetie, so, so much.”

 Roman’s breath shudders warmly on his cheeks.

 “Shh, shh, oh, come here, sweetie—there you go, you can cry, honey, I’ve got you, I’m right here, shh, shh...”

 The weight of the prince’s tears drying on his collar makes it hard to swallow. He tugs the blankets closer around them and lets Roman cling onto him as he cries.

 “I know you don’t believe me,” he whispers as familiar lies start to drift across, “but it’s true, sweetie. It’s true, it’s true, I promise. I’m here to take care of you.”

 “I’m—I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor—sorry—“

 “Shh-shh-shh, don’t apologize to me, sweetie, you don’t have to apologize, I’m right here, I’m not angry, nothing’s so bad.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 Janus hushes him gently with a kiss to his cheek. “I know you are...even though you don’t have to be, not like this.”

 His chest aches when Roman won’t stop burbling apologies.

 “Roman.” He takes the prince’s face firmly in his hands. “Roman, look at me.”

 Roman’s glassy eyes fixate on Janus’s face.

 “I forgive you, my prince,” he says, “I forgive you.”

 Roman’s mouth stills.

 “If that is what you need to hear,” he continues, softening his grip, “I forgive you, my prince.”

 “You...you do?”

 “I don’t want you to think that you need my forgiveness for me to love you,” Janus murmurs, “but yes, sweetie. I forgive you.”

 Roman collapses.

 Janus catches him. Of course, he catches him. He curls around his prince and murmurs sweet nothings, reassurances, anything he needs right now.

 It’s messy, it’s frantic, it’s desperate, it’s human.

 He can care for Roman while Roman lets himself be human. So he holds the poor thing while he cries himself out.

 He doesn’t cry himself to sleep again, thankfully, just enough to slump against Janus’s chest and huff.

 “Sorry.”

 “No need to apologize, that was long overdue.” He runs his knuckles up Roman’s back. “Can we get you something to drink?”

 Roman stiffens. “Does that mean going downstairs?”

 “No, sweetie. Come on...”

 He gets Roman seated on the edge of the bed with a glass of water in his hands. Roman drinks, blinking as Janus passes him a warm cloth, then a cool cloth, to clean his face.

 “What do they want me to do,” he asks after he’s finished the glass and the cloths are hanging over the laundry basket, “now?”

 Janus winces. Is he surprised? No.

 “Shh, sweetie, I’m not angry,” he soothes when Roman tenses, “I’m concerned. You’re still—you still need to take care of yourself first before you worry about everyone else.”

  But everyone else is worthy of the worrying, not me.

 Janus hisses gently. Roman just sighs.

 “It’s what you’ve told me,” he mumbles, “I don’t—I can’t just stop it.”

 “I’m not expecting you to be able to just stop it, sweetie, it’s going to take time, but part of it is going to be recognizing what’s not true.”

 “I know.”

 Janus opens his mouth to say something else when Roman gasps, his hand flying to his chest.

 “Sweetie? Sweetie, what is it?”

 “I’m—I’m being summoned.” Roman clutches his shirt, staring up at Janus. “Thomas—Thomas—“

 “I’ll go.” Janus gives Roman’s shoulder a squeeze. “Just wait here for me, sweetie, I’ll be right back.”

 He can still feel the warmth of Roman’s shoulder tingling under his palm as he appears in the living room.

 “I’m sure you have a wonderful reason for trying to summon Roman,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow at a Thomas.

 Thomas looks up from his computer. “We were still filming.”

 Janus stiffens. “You’re not thinking of trying to continue—“

 “What? No, no, I’m saying that while Roman was talking the camera was still rolling.” Thomas points to the screen. “Which means we have it. All of it.”

 Ah, now he sees where Thomas is going.

 “You want them to watch.”

 “They should, shouldn’t they?”

 Yes, a bitter part of Janus growls, they should see how badly they’ve made Thomas’s Ego crumble.

 “What do you think?”

 Thomas rolls his shoulders back. “I think up until Roman said...all of that, I didn’t think the others were wrong either.”

 He glances up at Janus.

 “Did you?”

 Janus huffs. “I don’t think we ever give Roman enough credit for how good of an actor he is.”

 With that, the whole sorry tale spills out of him. He doesn’t reveal the exact nature of the lies, just the broad swaths of them and how many there are. To Thomas’s credit, he deals with it better than Janus expected. That is, he doesn’t burst into tears.

 Thomas takes a deep breath.

 “...yeah, we’re watching this now.”

 “Right now?”

 “Answer me this,” Thomas says, looking up at him again, “where is Roman? Right now?”

 “...on his bed.” At Thomas’s pointed stare, he relents. “He’s not alright, Thomas, he hasn’t been for a very long time.”

 “Then yeah. Right now.”

 “Then I’m going to ask Roman if he wants to be here.”

 Thomas nods. “Can you—can you tell him I’m sorry?”

 “You can do that yourself when he’s ready to hear it.”

 Understandably, Roman does not want to be there. Janus wraps him tightly in the softest blankets he has, tucked up with a pillow and a glass of water nearby if he wants it, along with the reassurance that if Roman wants him back here, at any point, to call. He’ll listen.

 “Thank you.”

 Janus leaves him with one last squeeze, appearing in the living room with the others. Thomas is back to setting up the computer so they can all see the screen.

 “Thomas?” Logan adjusts his tie. “I was unaware we had something scheduled for today.”

 “We didn’t. Spur of the moment.”

 Remus shoots Janus a look. Janus nods. Remus shifts a little closer to him and his hand grips his Morningstar.

 “Is this about the video from yesterday?” Virgil looks around warily. “Or is it something else?”

 “It is about yesterday.”

 “Shouldn’t we...wait for Roman?”  Patton rubs the back of his neck. “He kinda—well, if we’re talking about yesterday—“

 “Roman’s not coming.” Thomas keeps fiddling with the computer.

 Logan raises an eyebrow. “Are we deciding how to film the video without Roman?”

 “No.” Thomas glances at Janus. Janus nods. Thomas looks back at the others. “Roman’s not coming because he doesn’t want to.”

 “What the fuck?”

 “Language, kiddo,” Patton mumbles halfheartedly.

 “Wait, so—“ Virgil doesn’t look so much as chided— “you’re just gonna let Princey throw his temper tantrum and not come work?”

 “How much attention were you guys paying to what happened after you sunk out yesterday?”

 “…not much, why?”

 In response, Thomas just pushes ‘play.’

 Their voices fill the room, telling Roman what he’s done wrong, why he’s holding all of them back, why he’s the source of all their problems. Lies, lies, and more lies. They get to the part where the other three sink out and Remus tightens his grip on the handle.

  “…you want me to apologize?”

 Virgil opens his mouth, presumably to make some quip, only to cut himself off with a strangled noise once Roman’s apologies begin.

 Janus watches with a sick sense of satisfaction as Patton’s hands fly to his mouth, eyes wide at the hopeless tone coming out of the computer. Next to him, Virgil goes rigid, borderline catatonic. He looks as if one little push would send him toppling over.

 He can’t see Logan’s face until Thomas stops the playback. It’s only when Logan takes his glasses off to clean them that he can see the tears on his cheeks.

 Thomas looks up at Janus.

 “Can you still hear them?”

 “The lies?” Thomas nods. “Yes.”

 There’s a moment of silence.

 “Roman is the Ego,” Logan whispers, mostly to himself, “Roman is the Ego. Of course…of course, I understand—I understand now.”

 “What does that mean?”

 Logan takes a deep breath and looks up at Patton. “It means that Roman is Thomas’s sense of self-worth, more or less, and that he—he takes the brunt of Thomas’s reactions to…any sort of feedback, more than any of us. Good or bad.”

 Virgil stifles a curse. “And we’ve taught him to hate himself.”

 “Quite.”

 “We—“ Patton takes a breath— “we need to apologize.”

 “We all do.” Thomas closes the computer and sets it aside. “I don’t…I don’t know how we do that, though.”

 “Breaking patterns of thinking is hard,” Logan says, “and…especially hard when you have been taught not to ask for help.”

 “But there has to be something!”

 “Touch-starved,” Virgil breaks in, staring at a spot on the carpet, “Roman’s touch-starved.”

 Janus raises an eyebrow.

 “…when I was still having trouble,” Virgil says after a moment of them all looking at him, “Roman—Roman would just come and ask me if I wanted to—to—“

 He hunches his shoulders.

 “Sometimes it’d be a hug. Sometimes he’d sit next to me and—and lean on me. Sometimes he’d just—you know, with the forehead thing—“

 “Bonk.”

 They all turn to Logan, who has…a surprising flush to his cheeks.

 “Roman said that he—he wanted to be able to express affection for me and not disturb my work,” he manages, “so we…came up with a solution.”

 Patton blinks. “Is that why Roman will just walk up to you and bonk his forehead against yours?”

 “Yes.”

 “Huh.”

 “That’s adorable,” Thomas says quietly, “that’s—wait, hang on, that’s really adorable.”

 “It was Roman’s idea.” Logan swallows. “Most of his ideas are good.”

 “Yeah,” Thomas says, “maybe we should try telling him that next time.”

 Janus looks around. The others look to be in various states of remorse and determination. With the exception of Remus, who still looks like he wants to bash a few of their skulls in.

 “…can we go hug Roman now?”

 “I wanna do that.”

 “If he’s—“ Logan glances between Thomas and Janus— “do you know if he would be amenable to that? If he—would like that?”

 “We can ask,” Janus says quietly, “but I don’t know.”

 “And if he says no,” Remus growls, “you get out.”

 “We understand, Remus,” Logan promises. He looks at Thomas. “Thank you, Thomas.”

 Thomas shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. Not yet. We all have stuff to fix.”

 Janus adjusts his cape. “Then let’s get started, shall we?”

 They don’t sink right to Roman’s room. Instead, Janus knocks quietly on the door and waits for the soft ‘yes?’ from the other side to open it.

 “Roman,” he calls softly, “hey, sweetie, why’re you over there?”

 Because Roman, the poor thing, is at his desk, trying to work.

 “I—um—“

 “I’m not angry, sweetie,” he murmurs, arms going around the prince to pull him up out of the desk chair, “just concerned.”

 “I figured that if I got to work they’d be less mad that I wasn’t there,” Roman mumbles, even as he lets Janus pull him back to the bed, “so I…”

 “Oh, sweetie, no one’s angry at you.”

 Roman looks up at him with such a heartbreaking look of disbelief that he lets out a soft noise, cupping his face.

 “Would you believe me if I said they want to apologize and make it up to you?”

 “No.”

 He squints. “Have you believed anything I’ve told you since you woke up?”

 “No.”

 The lack of hesitation makes his eyes widen. Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against Roman’s as he pulls off his gloves, reaching up to cup the prince’s head.

 “I meant every word,” he murmurs, doing his best to wipe away the bits of salt in the corners of his eyes, “every single word.”

 He pauses, then leans closer.

 “They’re sorry, Roman,” he whispers, “they’re so sorry and they want to know how to make it better.”

  They don’t want you. They hate you. They’ve never cared about you. They don’t even want to touch you.

 Janus hisses softly as he pulls Roman in for a hug. The poor thing still reacts like it’s the first time someone’s touched him in years.

 “They want to see you, sweetie,” he whispers, “and I believe their exact words were ‘can we go hug Roman now?’”

 “W-what?”

 In response, Janus pulls away a little and nods to the door. Roman’s eyes widen.

 “Can we let them in, sweetie?”

 “They’re here?”

 “Right outside.”

 “They want—they want to—“

 Roman’s desperate gaze flies to the door. He raises a shaking hand and lets it open.

 Patton’s through the door before it’s even all the way open. Roman lets out a wounded noise as Patton barrels into them, his arms wrapped around Roman before Janus can blink.

 “Pat—Patton—Pa—wha—?”

 “I’m sorry, Roman, I’m so sorry, kiddo—“

 Virgil follows not too long after, pulling Roman’s legs into his lap and reaching out to take Roman’s outstretched hand.

 “Hey, Princey,” he says, the growl from not five minutes ago softened to a low rumble, “missed you.”

 “Mis—miss—missed me?”

 “Yeah, Roman, missed you. Didn’t feel the same without you there.”

 Then Logan. As Patton and Virgil move to get Roman into a more comfortable position, Logan sits behind him so that when Roman leans back, his head rests against Logan’s shoulder. Logan reaches up to tangle his fingers in Roman’s hair, smiling softly at the low noise from Roman’s throat.

 “Bonk?”

 Roman nods, still blinking in confusion but lets Logan press his forehead gently to his.

 “Thank you, little star,” he murmurs, smiling at the way Roman’s mouth falls open, “I didn’t forget, Roman, even if I haven’t been the best at showing it.”

 “We don’t hate you, Princey,” Virgil says, squeezing his hand, “and we—well, we owe you one hell of an apology.”

 “But we don’t have to talk about that now.” Patton adjusts his grip around Roman’s waist. “Not if you don’t want to.”

 Remus picks this moment to not walk through the door and climb onto the bed but to sink down through the ceiling and land on top of them.

 “Re!”

 “Hey, Ro-Bro.”

 “Re, get off, you—it’s too much.”

Remus rolls to the side, right into Janus’s lap, effectively making sure that none of them are leaving, not that they particularly wanted to.

 Janus watches as Roman slowly asks if they can stay like this for a while, smiling when the answer is a resounding ‘yes,’ the cuddle pile closing in around their prince. Roman’s head rests against the crook of Logan’s neck, one of his hands wrapped in Janus’s, the other in Virgil’s. His legs lie in Virgil’s lap, Patton cuddling him protectively as Logan strokes his head. Remus and Janus keep watch, sentries over the resting prince.

 For the first time, in a long time, as Roman drifts off to sleep, the only lie in his head is this won’t last forever.

 They’ve got time to prove him wrong.

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness  @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes  @iminyourfandom  @bullet-tothefeels  @full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83  @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious  @firefinch-ember  @fandomssaremysoul  @im-an-anxious-wreck  @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch  @enby-ralsei  @unicornssunflowersandstuff  @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams  @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne  @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer  @i-am-overly-complicated  @annytheseal  @alias290  @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist let me know!

[wolfstar-in-color]

July Colorful Column: Remus is a Crip, and We Can Write Him Better.

There is one thing that can get me to close a fic so voraciously I don’t even make sure I’m not closing other essential tabs in the process. It doesn’t matter how much I’m loving the fic, how well written I think it is, or how desperately I want to know how it ends. Once I read this sentence, I am done.

It’s written in a variety of different ways, but it always goes something like this: “You don’t want me,” Remus said, “I am too sick/broken/poor/old/[insert chosen self-demeaning adjective here].”

You’re familiar with the trope. The trope is canonical. And if you’ve been around the wolfstar fandom for longer than a few minutes, you’ve read the trope. Maybe you love the trope! Maybe you’ve written the trope! Maybe you’re about to stop reading this column, because the trope rings true to you and you feel a little attacked!

Now, let’s get one thing out of the way right now: I am not saying the trope is wrong. I am not saying it’s bad. I am not saying we should stop writing it. We all have things we don’t like to see in our chosen fics. Maybe you can’t stand Leather Jacket Motorbike Sirius? Maybe you think Elbow Patch Remus is overdone? Or maybe your pet peeves are based in something a little deeper - maybe you think Poor Latino Remus is an irresponsible depiction, or that PWPs are too reductive? Whatever it is, we all have our things.

Let me tell you about my thing. When I first became very ill several years ago, there were various low points in which I felt I had become inherently unlovable. This is, more or less, a normal reaction. When your body stops doing things it used to be able to do - or starts doing things you were quite alright without, thank you very much - it changes the way you relate to your body. You don’t want to hear my whole disability history, so yada yada yada, most people eventually come to accept their limitations. It’s a very painful existence, one in which you constantly tell yourself your disability has transformed you into a burdensome, unworthy member of society, and if nothing else, it’s not terribly sustainable. Being disabled takes grit! It takes power! It takes a truly absurd amount of medical self-advocacy! Hating yourself? Thinking yourself unworthy of love? No one has time for that. 

Of course, I’m being hyperbolic. Plenty of disabled people struggle with these feelings many years into their disabilities, and never really get over them. But here’s the thing. We experience those stories ALL THE TIME. Remember Rain Man? Or Million Dollar Baby? Or that one with the actress from Game of Thrones and that British actor who seemed like he was going to have a promising career but then didn't? Those are all stories about sad, bitter disabled people and their sad, bitter lives, two out of three of which end in the character completing suicide because they simply couldn’t imagine having to live as a disabled person. (I mean, come on media, I get that we're less likely to enjoy a leisurely Saturday hike, but our parking is SUBLIME.) When was the last time you engaged with media that depicted a happy disabled person? A complex disabled person? A disabled person who has sex? No really, these aren’t hypothetical questions, can you please drop a rec in the notes?? Because I am desperate.

There are lots of problems with this trope, and they’ve been discussed ad nauseam by people with PhDs. I’m not actually interested in talking about how this trope leads to a more prevalent societal idea that disabled people are unworthy of love, or contributes to the kind of political thought processes that keep disabled people purposefully disenfranchised. I’m just a bitch on Tumblr, and I have a bone to pick: the thing I really hate about the trope? It’s boring. I’m bored. You know how, like, halfway through Grey’s Anatomy you realized they were just recycling the same plot points over and over again and there was just no WAY anyone working at a hospital prone to THAT MANY disasters would stay on staff? It's like that. I love a recycled trope as much as the next person (There Was Only One Bed, anyone?). But I need. Something. Else.

Remus is disabled. BOLD claim. WILD speculation. Except, not really. You simply - no matter how you flip it, slice it, puree it, or deconstruct it - cannot tell me Remus Lupin is not disabled. Most of us, by this point, are probably familiar with the way that One Canonical Author intended One Dashing Werewolf to be “a metaphor for those illnesses that carry stigma, like HIV and AIDS” [I’m sorry to link you to an outside source quoting She Who Must Not Be Named, but we’re professionals here]. Which is... a thing. It’s been discussed. And, listen, there’s no denying that this parallel is a problematic interpretation of people who have HIV/AIDS and all such similar “those illnesses” (though I’ll admit that I, too, am perennially apt to turn into a raging beast liable to harm anything that crosses my path, but that’s more linked to the at-least-once-monthly recollection that One Day At A Time got cancelled). Critiques aside, Remus Lupin is a character who - due to a condition that affects him physically, mentally, emotionally, and intellectually - is repeatedly marginalized, oppressed, denied political and social power, and ostracized due to unfounded fear that he is infectious to others. Does that sound familiar?

We’re not going to argue about whether or not “Remus is canonically disabled as fuck” is a fair reading. And the reason we’re not going to argue about whether or not it’s a fair reading is because I haven’t read canon in 10-plus years and you will win the argument. Canon is only marginally relevant here. The icon of this blog is brown, curly haired Remus Lupin kissing his trans boyfriend, Sirius Black. We are obviously not too terribly invested in canon. The wolfstar fandom is now a community with over 25,000 AO3 fics, entire careers launched from drawing or writing or cosplaying this non-canonical pairing. We love to play around here with storylines and universes and races and genders and sexualities and all kinds of things, but most of the time? Remus is still disabled. He’s disabled as a werewolf in canon-compliant works, he’s disabled in the AUs where he was injured or abused or kidnapped or harmed as a child, he’s disabled in the stories that read him as chronically ill or bipolar or traumatized or blind or Deaf. I’d go so far as to say that he is one of very few characters in the Wide Wonderful World of media who is, in as close to his essence as one can be, always disabled. And that means? Don’t shoot the messenger... but we could stand to be a tiny bit more responsible with how we portray him. 

Disabled people are complicated. As much as I’d like to pretend we are always level-headed, confident, and ready to assert our inherent worth, we are still just humans. We have bad days. We doubt our worth. We sometimes go out with guys who complain about our steroid-induced weight gain (it was a long time ago, Tumblr, okay??). But, we also have joy and fun and good days and sex and happiness and families and so many other things. 

Remus is a disabled character, and as such, it’s only fair that he’d have those unworthy moments. But - I propose - Remus is also a crip. What is a crip? A crip - like a queer - is someone who eschews the limited boundaries placed on their bodies, who rejects a hierarchy of oppression in favor of an intersectional analysis of lived experience, who isn’t interested in being the tragic figure responsible for helping people with dominant identities realize how good they have it. Crips interpret their disabilities however they want, rethinking bodies and medicine and pleasure and pain and even time itself. Crips are political, community-minded, and in search of liberation. 

Remus is a character who struggles with his disability, sure. But he’s also a character who leverages his physical condition to attempt to shift communities towards his political leanings, advocates for the rights of those who share his physical condition, and has super hot sex with his wrongfully convicted boyfriend ultimately goes on to build community and family. Having a condition that quite literally cripples you, over which you have no control, and through which you are often read as a social pariah? That’s disability. But using said condition as a means through which to build advocacy and community? Now that’s some crip shit. 

Personally, I love disabled!Remus Lupin. But I love crip!Remus Lupin even more. I’d love to see more of a Remus who owns his disability, who covets what makes him unique, and who never ever again tells a potential romantic partner they are too good for him because of his disability. This trope - unlike There Was Only One Bed! - sometimes actually hurts to read. Where’s Remus who thinks a potential romantic partner isn’t good enough for him? Where’s Remus who insists his partners learn more about his condition in order to treat him properly? Where’s sexy wheelchair user Remus? Where’s Remus who uses his werewolf transformations as an excuse to travel the world? Where’s crip Remus??

We don’t have to put “you don’t want me” Remus entirely to bed. It is but one of many repeated tropes that are - in the words of The Hot Priest from Fleabag - morally a bit dubious. And let’s face it - we don’t always come to fandom for its moral superiority (as much as we sometimes like to think we do). 

This is not a condemnation - it is an invitation. Able-bodied folks are all but an injury, illness, or couple decades away from being disabled. And when you get here, I sincerely hope you don’t waste your time on “you don’t want me”ing back and forth with the people you love. I’m inviting you to come to the crip side now. We have snacks, and without all the “you don’t want me” talk, we get to the juicy parts much faster. 

Colorfully,

Mod Theo

[lenmatcha]

Here’s an impression of all the Zhang Qiling’s from The Lost Tomb adaptations and some criticisms

because I have nothing better to do.

These are based on my personal viewing experience and reviews by novel fans

they may not match how you think about these versions and that’s fine. 

We all have our personal preferences.

The Lost Tomb (2015, drama)

played by Yang Yang

2010’s eboy vibes

Probably buys fingerless gloves from Hot Topic

Emo hair (I will not stop talking about that hair cuz that’s all I remember)

Tattoos looking like they’re drawn with a ballpoint pen

*Strikes pose to show off abs*

Most audience were unsatisfied with the hairstyle and how the actor played ZQL simply as the “cold, strong, expressionless” character without any depth.

Time Raiders (2016, movie)

played by Jing Boran

Sci-fi steampunk aesthetic (this was supposed to be a movie about tombs…)

Probably bench presses with his 200 pound sword

THICC 

Fur coat fashion

“Not bad.”

“I know.”

--- Actual lines from the movie, i swear im not making this up

“There is no movie in dmbj adaptation.” 

Yeah most fans don’t want to acknowledge the existence of this movie...

Tomb of the Sea (2018, drama)

played by Xiao Yuliang

he is baby

Exists only in flashbacks

Had less than 8 minutes of screen time but somehow nailed it

Him with the robe (藏袍) it’s just  *chef’s kiss*

Highly recommend behind the scenes video of the Xin Yue Restaurant scene cuz they edited so much of the stunts out.

Like how a tattoo artist on Bilibili analyzed, this version of ZQL didn’t really have the best tattoo design. Also in one of the flashback fight scenes (ep 35) , the editing was so awkward it made it look like the people he fought fell before he even kicked them.

The Lost Tomb 2 (2019, drama)

played by Cheng Yi

Defies gravity. 

Can fly

Learned martial arts from some sort of xianxia drama

*Does a split in the middle of fighting some wolves*

Sir, this is an adventure drama, not an idol romance drama

*holds Wu Xie gently* 

This version of ZQL was kinda out of character in a fanfiction kinda way. Also the fight scenes relied too much on wires, which some say it’s because the actor is used to playing xianxia dramas.

Reboot (2020, drama)

played by Huang Junjie

Get’s his own soundtrack for every dramatic entrance 

The hood still confuses me, like, what is that thing at the front?

Smirks 24/7

Like dude why are you still smiling

Lost so much blood, I’m starting to think he’s invincible 

Fans complained about how this version of ZQL smiles too much and is being treated like a background character. The Iron Triangle vibe isn’t really there, perhaps it’s because the actors didn’t communicate enough with each other.

Ultimate Note (2020, drama)

played by Xiao Yuliang

Yeah I know it’s the same actor as in Tomb of the Sea but I think he deserves a whole another section

Cat energy

Is finally loved.

Has an 8 pack but still skinny af (Like, somebody pls feed this child)

DEM LEGS THO THEY HELLA LONG

Did most of his own stunts, which is pretty impressive

Everyone say thank you Ultimate Note cast and crew

Unlike other adaptations, in Ultimate Note we get to see more of ZQL’ vulnerable moments, like the Akun flashback, getting amnesia, and getting injured multiple times.