#because its not real. He was most likely “created” before he was assigned a “birthday”

[indecisive-dizzy]

I’m glad you liked the writing, more writing will come, in case you’re interested in reading The Horrors! If it’s too much to ask, why ever do you think Home was not included in the birthday celebrations of our favorite mailman? :]

Oh!! Hello! :D Yes I greatly enjoy your writing <3 !!! I do love The Horrors!

Hmmm,,, well Home is a House. Houses can't walk, so I don't know how he would join the party from all the way over there! The party was at the clock tower, after all. Or maybe he was busy doing whatever it is Houses do?

Or was Home keeping a distance,,, to watch? Home has strong bystander vibes whether forced to be such or not. Hmmm,, I don't know! I'm not too good at this speculation stuff haha!

But I like the idea of Home keeping his distance while keeping an eye on everyone (Eddie). He wanted to see if Eddie Could remember on his own. And maybe knows why he forgot (always forgets? another forgotten birthday...) and didn't want to get involved?

ooooh idk!! But I'm excited to see if you dive into it!! :D

[sunnyrealist]

Let's Talk about Sebastian's Parents

I recently needed to write about Mr. and Mrs. Sallow for my fanfic, and because there is very little information out there, I had to invent a lot of backstory as to who they were and what life was like for the Sallow family prior to their deaths.

I'm so curious to know what headcanons others in the fandom have created about them. It would be interesting if some of us had similar thoughts. If you're willing, would you share your own ideas via comment or reblog? Thanks!

I threw in a little preview above of one of my many commissions from @giselsann-opencommissions that I've been sitting on for quite some time. I don't usually post them until I get to the plot points they depict. This one is close enough - I'll show the entire thing real soon.

Before I get to my headcanons, this is what Hogwarts Legacy: The Official Game Guide has to say about Sebastian's parents (see last paragraph):

Here is the background I created for my fic:

Their names were Samuel and Selina (Ware) Sallow. Their family and friends called them Sam and Lina.

They were both pureblood and the same age.

They met at Hogwarts. Sam was in Slytherin, and Lina was in Ravenclaw.

When they were students, they were academic rivals - not "enemies," per se, but they were not exactly friends until they were assigned as partners for a project in Potions during their seventh year. They realized how similar they were and fell in love.

They got married very quickly after graduation but didn't have Anne and Sebastian until they were older (around 30).

The two of them eventually became teachers at Hogwarts. Sam taught Magical Theory (predecessor to Professor Fig), and Lina taught Defense Against the Dark Arts (predecessor to Professor Hecat). They were experts in their fields.

They moved to Aranshire when they became professors. I believe they lived in the spider house in Hogwarts Legacy (there's actually evidence to back this up). It was FILLED with books to the point that it was practically a library.

The cellar was their workspace, and the twins knew that when their parents were down there that they were not to be disturbed unless there was an emergency.

Both of the Sallows were incredibly studious and conducted a lot of research in their spare time. They sometimes teamed up to study particular subjects, such as defensive magical theory and love as a form of magic in its purest form. They didn't view Dark magic as inherently evil, just as everyday magic is not always perfectly good.

Mr. and Mrs. Sallow were quite lovey-dovey. Sebastian remembers them reading in front of the fireplace, engrossed in their own books, but always holding hands or touching. He also remembers being grossed out as a little boy by how often they would kiss.

Neither of them had big families, and just about all of their family members had passed by the time the twins were born. Solomon Sallow was their only living relative at the time of their deaths.

They took the twins to Hogwarts often during summer breaks, so they had a head start on learning the lay of the land and the school's curriculum. Sam and Lina had them read some of their textbooks prior to their first year so that they could get the most out of their education.

They wanted the twins to be well-rounded, so they taught them multiple languages. Lina considered music a language and taught them how to play piano. She also would sing them a song every night when she put them to bed.

Lina was exceptionally gentle, despite her interest in magical combat, Dark magic, Dark creatures, etc. She tended to coddle and fuss over the children. Every year on their birthday, she would bake a spice cake with vanilla icing. She was proficient in both Muggle and magical healing. Her nicknames for Sebastian and Anne were "little prince" and "little princess" - "the little twin rulers."

As far as looks, Sebastian takes after Lina, who had curly auburn hair and freckles. While Anne got a few of Lina's freckles, her hair is similar to Sam's.

Sam loved to give the twins sweets behind their mother's back. He had a distinct laugh and enjoyed reading stories aloud and "doing the voices." He taught the kids how to play Quidditch; he had once been a beater. When he traveled for his studies and would come home with unique artifacts and new information, he would share all of it with the twins in plain language, never talking down to them. I see Sam as an Atticus Finch kind of father.

Christmas was a simple affair. They'd have Uncle Solomon over for dinner, and he would leave pretty quickly after dessert (he and Sam were not close and disagreements were frequent). The twins were always gifted two items: a new book and something particularly interesting, useful, or coveted.

They liked animals and had an Old English Sheepdog named Endy (short for Endymion).

Again, I would love to hear your headcanons. Are yours similar or completely different from mine? Sound off in the comments or reblog! I love discussions like this.

[thedream14]

Bueno 👀 Thank you soooo much for all your messages of support !!! Since you liked the idea, I'll give you some more context about the Tiny universe !!!

DISCLAIMER: I didn’t create all this lore. I wish I know who did it first. I just adapted it from different fics I have read 👀

****

Nobody knows how the Tinys originated, it’s believed that their existence is just the work of fate. A nice way to link all the soulmates within the multiverse !!!

Tinys are an exact mini representation of a person's soulmate. Usually, they don’t measure more than 4 inches. They are very fragile and sensitive creatures, therefore, they need a lot of love and care. Tinys only provide affection and company to their soulmate until the moment they manage to find their human version. After that, the respective Tinys come together tying the eternal bond of the soulmates.

Tinys emulate the complete personality of their human version. Likes, dislikes, gestures, actions, decisions, dreams, illusions, dressing, etc. However, they can’t lie. They only show the true emotions and intentions of the human they represent. They are the most honest and vulnerable form of a person.

To survive, they don’t need food, only the affection and attention from their soulmate.

To know if a Tiny needs more love, they come with a love thermometer inside their welcome boxes. This thermometer increases or decreases depending on the love that the Tiny receives from its destined.

If the thermometer shows low temperatures, the Tiny weakens to the point of death. This happens because the Tiny feels rejected by its soulmate. Basically, Tinys dies from a broken heart.

If a Tiny dies, the humans soulmates are doomed to never meet. Something inside the humans breaks, leaving an irreparable void. Therefore, it’s VERY important to take care and provide for the needs of the Tiny assigned. They should never feel abandoned.

All Tinys arrive to their soulmate in a small box, which becomes the Tiny's home. Its interior is a replica of the real room of its human version. It contains several items that relate to the personality of the soulmate. The Tiny's destined one may or may not throw away the box. Many people keep it, as it allows them to explore a little more of the Tiny's environment.

Finally, if the human version of a Tiny dies, the little creature disappears, as the connection with its soulmate ceases to exist.

——

Logan & Tiny Wade

Logan still remembers how the first few weeks with his lovely and loud Tiny were like !!!

When he received his box, he was very excited. He had always dreamed of that moment. He wanted to meet the person he would spend the rest of his life with.

***

During his childhood, he always fantasized about his soulmate. At school, his teachers would say that Tinys could only offer a unique and sincere love. They also gave instructions on how to care for those creatures and how they should protect them until they found their human version.

The teachers always made jokes about how easy that task would be, since they lived in a small town. There weren't many options. Marriages between the same families and so on.

All his friends would talk about his Tinys. How they were beautiful women from good families, trained to taking care of their future husbands and children.

Now… in his home, he never commented on the lack of Tinys. Logan assumed it was a sensitive subject, as he could noticed how broken things were between his parents.

Logan really just wanted a person who would accept him and give him company. An adventurous person like him, willing to find his own path. Although, he couldn't deny feeling a little scared, because he believed he would never be enough for that special person.

The night before his tenth birthday, his father gave him some reassuring words. He told his son that he shouldn't be afraid. Soulmates and Tinys were the purest form of love. His Tiny was made for him. His soulmate would never demand something from him that he wasn't willing to offer. He would never reject him. He just need it to open his heart.

Meanwhile, his mother, as she laid him down in his bed before going to sleep, just looked at him with concern. She wished him a good night, but before leaving…

His mother warned him not to be disappointed if fate offered him something he didn't want. "Life takes many turns and the only thing we can do as human beings is to endure."

At the moment, Logan didn't understand the pain behind his mother's eyes, but as time went by he understood...

His mother had been forced to marry a man other than his Tiny, since her soulmate was a farmer without education or money. A woman of high society like her had to maintain her reputation. Therefore, her father took it upon himself to make her Tiny disappear and lock her in an arranged marriage.

The man he always considered his real father, only agreed to stay with his mother, since his soulmate had died of smallpox. Mr. Howlett had preferred to stay in a depressing home than endure loneliness.

***

Logan still remembers with shame, the speed which he left his house the next morning. He only wanted to find his Tiny as soon as possible.

Upon reaching the gate of the main ranch, he found a small red box with a black bow. Logan knew deep in his heart that this was his Tiny's welcome box. Something inside it drew him and filled him with warmth. He knew that inside that box was the most important piece of his soulmate.

After a detailed inspection of the box, Logan noticed the small card hanging from the black bow. The card only had the name "Wade" in beautiful cursive writing. At first, Logan was confused by the name, as it was very masculine for a woman. However, the excitement was so great that he just grabbed his box and ran to the most secluded barn in the entire Howlett residence.

Once in the privacy of the barn, Logan began to breathe deeply to contain his joy. He was very nervous, but he was sure he was ready to open his heart to his new companion. Without further ado, he untangled the bow and with a single move, he lifted the lid of the box.

- Ohhh it was time Peanut!

—

Sooooo ahí lo tienen !!! I really want to have the time to explained how strong is the relationship between Logan and his Tiny !!! Cause they live together through sooooo much !!! Wars, homelessness, homophobia and even the X-men…

But !!! I promise my next post will be about Wade and his Tiny Logan 🥺♥️

Thank U and once again… I’m sorry about my weird English 💀

[calciumdeficientt]

ELLIE CONEY HCS WITH HER TOXIC YURI GF HCS RN

Ouuuuuugh ellieeeeeeeee save me Ellie. Please save me. Lotta love for jock ocs. Even more love for ocs that are just,,, awful, compllicated people

ELLIE CONEY HCS

Winner of the 2006 most hompohobic lesbian competition. Shes bitter, and angry and so far inside the closet that if she’s not careful someone is gonna pick her up and donate her to the Goodwill. She thinks all men are a scourge on the earth, even more so gay men. This comes on account of the fact her dad divorced her mum to run off with another, younger man and start a new life. Leaving his current family destitute and her mother reliant on booze to stay alive. She became a proto-mother very young and therefore wants absolutely nothing to do with motherhood, children, or any of that sort of stuff. She had to raise kids when she was just a kid herself, she’s had quite enough of them. He dad’s betrayal created a deep seated hatred for queerness as well as for men.

Ellis is a young trans girlie, when her father left, her mother drank herself to the point of memory loss. Sort of like a lobotomy. The disintegration of their nuclear family allowed her to change her identity without much pushback from her mother. She was able to start puberty blockers pretty young on account of saving a lot of her money from birthdays, Christmas ses ect. Her parents sort of forgot about her because she was the oldest. She never got presents, just money and she saved all of it for a rainy day. Her dad was also into some pretty shady shit, so he had a stash of money in their house that she stumbled across and used to begin her transition.

Traditionally feminine girl, she likes bows and pink and glitter and honestly, the reason she’s not cheer captain is because she’d run that squad like it was the navy. She views anything and everything masculine as a threat and has very rigid ideas on what should and shouldn’t be accepted as valid expressions of femininity. Despite being a member of the jocks clique, she hates their guts, The only one she’s even remotely close to is Juri, and its because he’s secretly a very effeminate dude. Her repulsion of boys runs so deep that if she can help it, she will hide out in her dorm room all day until she is literally forced to go to class by a prefect.

HATES. Blood and guts and dirt. Shes the kind of girl to faint during biology class. The only reason she’s passing is because she makes Beatrice do all of her assignments for her. They’re kind of friends, both of them are manipulative bitches. They get on pretty well. It’s also. Another key reason she hates the jocks, they’re all essentially, sweaty, bloody, dirty animals and she’s not down with that like at ALL. Ellie can barely manage A Nightmare on Elm Street without getting squeamish and whining for it to be turned off.

Owner of a very extensive, very precious collection of scrunches. Her collection is her prise and joy, and as she ages she finds there’s lots of other, equally childish and girly stuff that she can collect. This eventually ends up in her becoming a particularly intense disney adult. You can’t really blame her, she didn’t have much of a childhood, but it infects EVERYTHING in her life. Her whole house is disney, her car is Disney. Her SOUL belongs to the mouse.

Shares a dorm with Lenora, and these two fuckers HATE each other. Ellie hatred of Lenora manifests because she’s a masculine woman who also happens to be comfortable in her identity as a lesbian; and Lenora hates Ellie because her phoney ‘girl’s girl’ act doesn’t extend to her, in fact she’s personally victimised by Ellie a LOT. They’re a real enemies to lovers type deal, and not just a snide comment in the hallway or a dirty look before they go to bed. It’s full blown fights and pranks dialled up 10000 notches. They pounce on each other like feral wildcats and have to be pulled off of each other almost daily. Ellie once put rat poison in Lenora’s water and she was VERY sick for a good few weeks, and in retaliation, Lenora slammed a locker shut on Eliie’s hand and completely shattered her wrist.

It’s the literal definition of toxic yuri, but they keep gravitating back towards each other like they’re magnets. Secretly, Lenora lets her win fights because her childhood dream was to get beaten up by a pretty girl at least once. They’re so terrible for each other but its hard to deny that they’re a really cute couple, aesthetically anyway. If you get to know them you’ll realise that you should never hang out with them again. They’re poisonous, and that toxicity radiates off of them like they’re a drop and run canister of weapons grade uranium.

[lovelybarnes]

scars- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader warnings: heavy mentions of insecurity, focus on scars, injuries, blood, wounds, canon violence about: requested! (PK9) kissing scars, bruises, scratches, etc. + (PF26) person a wiping person b’s tears away a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! i hope this is what you wanted and that you liked it!!

[ @tylard-blog1 ]

you’re aware that everyone on the team has them; natasha romanoff, even steve rogers, with his unbreakable milk skin, and bruce banner, with the green that tinges the hue of his temples when a scar is made. they’re reminders of what you do, some symbols of the lives that you’ve saved-- and others the lives that you’ve taken.

yes, everyone has them, but that doesn’t make you like the ones that litter your own body very much. nor does it stop you from looking away from them when you catch a glimpse of the scars that peek out of the clothing you specifically choose to hide them away from the curious eyes of the public. it doesn’t stop the frustrated tears that ebb in your eyes when you run the tips of your fingers over the raised tissue.

sometimes you realize how unfair it is of you to hate the scars that splay on your collarbone, and the ones that run across your hips and thighs, when you press your lips against the ones on bucky’s shoulder, pleading for him to believe you when you say you think he’s beautiful. the thought lingers when you playfully roll your eyes at natasha on the rare moment when she narrows her eyes at the healed bullet wound that sits above her hip, genuine words assuring her she looks great no matter what slipping out of the same mouth that utters ugly words at the mirror. you ignore it even as it guilts you when you touch the scars on bruce’s arms with featherlight fingers, pressing that they don’t make him a monster, or any of the hideous words with which he describes himself.

you try to tell yourself the reassurances apply to you, too, because they’re true-- the scars don’t diminish the beauty of your smile, or the glow that you carry, and they shouldn’t hinder the upwards pull of your lips when you catch a glimpse of them in the mirror-- but even as you try to convince yourself of that, your eyes always flit away, hand positioning itself in front of the scars as you examine the way you’d love yourself without them.

you were never aware of the blue eyes that caught your moments of dislike for yourself, missing the bead of worry that embedded itself in the cerulean of bucky’s irises.

-

it was on a particularly bad day of yours that one of your relatively smaller missions was scheduled. listed underneath your name was bucky’s, although he was only on there because he had demanded you never to go on a mission to an active hydra base alone, even though he knew you could handle it; you didn’t mind, always enjoying the quiet moments you got on the quinjet with bucky-- and the pilot, usually clint or steve, who bit their tongue, unlike sam or tony.

it would’ve been fine on any other day, but your day hadn’t started on the best note. the scars underneath your clothing seemed to burn every time you moved in the way they had when you first received them. you had stared at them for far too long, wishing you had the super-healing of the asgardian gods or the super soldiers you surrounded yourself with, who would never get permanent scars from the things you had experienced. they felt especially ugly sitting on your skin, making you want to lay in bed all day, pretending they didn’t exist.

your mission cut off your day of wallowing in your bed, forcing you to shove on your suit and sit in the quinjet to arrive at the mission you could’ve easily handled by yourself had it been another day and you had felt any other way.

you were from the same black widow program natasha was from; you were probably impossibly better, more ruthless and uncaring because from the moment you were born, you had nothing to lose, no family to protect, no memories of a childhood--even a fake one-- to hang onto. your movements were always calculated and perfect, like they had been forced to be, and your emotions were never supposed to cloud your anything-- they never did, except for when you had the days that knocked you off your feet, just like these.

nevertheless, you were distracted in the base with bucky, although you shouldn’t have been, considering the delicate information you were handling. you flawlessly did the routine of knocking guards unconscious, ignoring the way a harsh heat flashed in your hip when bucky’s hand touched the place where one of your more brutal scars was. it felt nearly as if he could feel it under his fingers, even though it was a ridiculous thought considering the material of your tac suit.

it was still going relatively fine; you had recovered the usb file you had been assigned to secure, and most of the guards were dead, fallen in a trail that created a clear pathway for bucky to find you, usb drive clutched tightly in your hand as you bled out on the floor, a knife thrown next to the pool of blood quickly forming underneath you and the person who had done it lying dead a few feet away. your gun was in your other hand, one of its bullets embedded in the hydra agents’ chest. bucky could hear the strangled gurgles of breathing coming from the agent, but he paid no attention to him as he rushed to your side, eyebrows furrowing as his hands reached the stab wound. you hissed sharply when you felt the cold of his vibranium fingers meet the burning hot of the injury, pressing down hard as lightly as he could while he mumbled something into the comms you never used. you were suddenly gathered into his arms, cringing when you heard a scream you didn’t realize was yours until you felt bucky’s lips moving in reassuring sentences next to your ear, a string of apologies falling from his lips. you never let go of the drive, desperate to keep hold of something that connected you to the real world, not wanting to focus on your other alternative: it was irrelevant when compared to everything else, but through the blinding red of pain, the only thing you could focus on was obsessing over the fact that a new scar would inevitably heal in place of the stab wound-- one you knew you would survive because you’d survived a hell of a lot worse than it, but the next ugly thing to form in your abdomen might just make you never want to see yourself again.

warm tears rolled down your cheeks as bucky carried you back into the quinjet, one of your hands tiredly fisted at bucky’s shirt, trying your best to stay awake but ultimately failing from the loss of blood and will.

-

it’s stupid. you’re aware, but your first thought when you open your eyes again is how there is yet another scar that will form on your abdomen, making tears rush to your eyes in frustration because it was your fault it was there anyways. had you just paid attention-- just not concentrated so on the wretched things, a new one would not be forming right now. the collection of ugly tissue that littered your skin was already too large.

the frustration you felt overpowered the painful numbness that settled over the wound in your abdomen, making dried tears spring back to life and dribble down your apple cheeks, alerting your boyfriend of your state. “doll? what’s wrong?” he asks, and at the sign he’s there, listening to your whimpers and audible disdain, the dam breaks loose, your hands reaching up to your face and tugging at the gash.

bucky’s up on his feet, tender hands circling around your wrists to pull them back down, “y/n, what’s wrong, doll?” he repeats, gentle blue eyes scanning your tear-streaked face. you squeeze your eyes shut, another salty trail making its way onto the bow of your lips. bucky’s warm fingers wipe away the wetness, his fingertips light.

“baby, please tell me what hurts,” he begs, his vibranium hand making its way into yours. you shake your head, squeezing his cold fingers. “i hate them,” you mumble, feeling his palm cupping your jaw, “i hate them so much.”

“hate what, honey?” he questions gently, brows furrowing further when he sees your hand curling into a loose fist above the place where his hands have lovingly settled: right on your scars. “i’m sorry,” you cry quietly, nose scrunching up when his fingers trace over the tissue he’s memorized the location of, “i hate them. they’re ugly and i hate them.”

“these?” bucky inquires, surprised. he lifts your shirt-- really, his-- to see the object of your tears, catching when you shut your eyes again and more tears drip off your jaw.

“bucky, no--”

bucky looks up at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “y/n…” he starts sadly, pulling away to get you to look at him. “they’re not... “ his eyes flick down to one of the scars, and he taps on it gently, “d’you remember this one? it was a couple years ago when i barely joined the team.” you can feel a lump growing in your throat, perfectly able to recall where you got it.

“you barely knew me back then, but you did know i was a super soldier, and you jumped in front of that bullet anyways. god, i knew i had to ask you out before someone knocked sense into anyone else.”

you sniffle, biting your lip, “this one,” he touches another one, “you saved nat and a little girl from a madman. her parents were so thankful they stayed with you until you woke up to thank you.” his finger wipes away another tear, “she invited me to her birthday party this year,” you snivel, and bucky smiles.

“these are not ugly-- you are not ugly, i promise.” he tells you. “i love you, every part of you--” his head suddenly ducks down, and you can feel his lips softly pressing against the scars, careful to avoid your newly forming one. your hand reaches his jaw, running your nail along his stubble as more thankful tears slip from your eyes. “i love you,” he repeats, kissing your lips.

“thank you,” you whisper against his lips, sniffling as you feel the burn on the scars slowly begin to disappear with the coolness of bucky’s vibranium fingertips.

[writingfics-passingtime]

Playing the Part

~8300 words of steamy Loki tickle fluff

PG13 for this one, kids. Lots of making out.

CW: some swearing, suggestive humour, mentions of murder/death, alcohol consumption

Every job has its ups and downs, and every employee their good days and not-so-good days. You’d hardly classify yourself as an employee because you didn’t get a paycheque, your entire occupation was a hazard unto itself, human-resources was punching it out on the sparring mat and your boss was either a 100-year-old super soldier or an eccentric billionaire, depending on the day and who was wearing what suit.

Wait… should I be getting paid for this?

Looking around your room that you paid no rent on, in a multi-billion dollar superhero compound, you decided that wasn’t a question you were ever going to ask. The question of the hour was which dress would best conceal your thigh-holstered gun.

Today, your job entailed one of those tasks that could be fun if you decided it would be, or hell if you had a bad attitude about it. You prided yourself on always being up for any mission, so that answered that question, though infiltrating some black-tie gala undercover was never as exciting as fighting alien forces.

You gave up feeling guilty about being a little excited when Earth faced threats long ago; no one had to know that impending planetary destruction was your favourite kind of mission to help out on.

Selecting a red strapless dress from the middle of your mission closet (which was differentiated because most of these dresses were bulletproof) you slipped it on over your underwear and thigh holster. A knock came at your door as you were reaching behind yourself to zip it up.

“Come in!”

“Agent, we- oh… Oh.” Loki’s featured turned from surprised to playfully smug in a matter of seconds.

“Can you get this zipper?” You winced at the stuck metal. He nodded and approached, you turned and held the fabric up. Before he even made it halfway to you he gave a brief wave of his hand and used his magic to unstick the zipper, bringing it to the top.

“Thanks,” you smiled, familiar with that particular kind of help from Loki. “Can you see my gun?” You did a little spin and he shook his head. “Great. You look nice," you commented, gesturing to his impeccable black suit.

“As do you.”

“Ready?”

”I suppose there are worse charades to play on a Saturday evening. Ones that don’t include fine wine and the prospect of a tussle with a Midgardian security man.”

You shot him a look as you two walked towards the garage together. “You said no Midgardian wine could be classed as fine.”

“Save for one region in Italy, I’ve discovered.” Loki shrugged, tightening the fastener on his cuff link.

You gave him a mock look of shock. “Are you telling me… you were wrong?“

“Smugness is not becoming, Agent,” Loki playfully warned.

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes. “Looks like I’m spending too much time with you.”

You bickered and bantered good-naturedly as you entered the garage, which was more like a hangar but only for cars. This mission would be you, Loki, Natasha, Sam and, strangely enough, Tony wanted to drive the van. He gave some excuse about wanting to test some new equipment and spend time with his team. Though you knew it was because Pepper wanted him to attend her aunt’s seventieth birthday, and Tony had a long-standing feud with that particular aunt ever since she went on a forty-five minute tirade about how much she hated Led Zeppelin. You weren’t sure if it was the sentiment behind it, or the fact that she could talk for forty-five minutes straight without the awareness to stop. Either way, Tony was on the job tonight.

“Black Widow is already onsite,“ Tony handed you three some photos as you entered and took your seats. “Your names are on the door, fake ones obviously, here they are.” Tony pulled up some information on the screens and then commanded the self-driving van to go with a few taps at a holographic control centre.

You went over the plan, the objective, who to avoid at all costs, where the gun was supposedly hidden. There was a gun used in a murder of a journalist - the employee of an old friend of Tony's, a young guy working on an exposé of a filthy-rich family dynasty in New York City. The journalist was sure the McDane family money came from arms dealing, but he was found dead just a few short months after he started investigating. The following week, Charles, the charming and likeable newly-married eldest son of the family, announced his run for mayor.

Whether Charlie McDane ordered the murder, or if he didn't even know it happened, Tony's source said this family kept trophies of their victories and the murder weapon would most definitely still be in the house.

On the face of it, it was an unusual assignment for the Avengers. If you didn't think that hard about it, you could have just sent Nat in alone. However, the McDane family was even more powerful than they loved to show on the surface, and this wouldn't be a simple theft. Hence, a small team was going in to avenge the fallen journalist.

Natasha had been planted on the inside, posing as an event manager for a soirée the family was hosting to celebrate Charlie’s birthday and, since he’d invited everyone in the political and social scene, it was the perfect chance to enter the mansion; there’s no way he’d know who each and every person was and should be.

As you walked down the road with your arm slotted through Loki's, you eyed the metal detectors at the front entrance. You gripped his arm and slid your hand into the pocket of your dress, but the pocket was hollow and only existed as easy way to grab your gun. Wordlessly, you passed it to Loki and he concealed it with his magic in the exact same way you planned to smuggle the murder weapon out later that evening.

Maybe it was Loki's elegance or your years of training that started when you were very young, but the way you two could instinctively weave around each other's thoughts, ideas and actions without so much as a glance was something special you didn't take for granted. You both had keen senses, but there was some kind of unexplainable energy that made them align perfectly.

You never let your mind wander on nights like these. On missions. Perhaps if you were less professional you'd take a moment to fantasise about what it would actually be like to go to a party with Loki. If the way he led you through the room with a gentle hand at your waist was more than a ploy to look like an adoring couple, or if he knew your favourite wine because he cared, instead of just having heard you order it a million times before.

He kept things light with jokes and little jabs, never once crossing a boundary when fake-flirting with you, but it wasn't lost on you that it was unusual to have this kind of working relationship that had all of the chemistry with none of the awkwardness. It was almost as if it was second nature now for him to pull you a little closer when you were in a nice dress, considering you'd only worn them in front of him on missions. And so he did pull you closer as you approached the bouncer to give your names.

You spied Nat at the front, leaning around a security guard's shoulder to point to something on his list. She always played her parts so well. She stole a glance at you and Loki through her fake glasses and that was it. No indication she knew you, no special treatment, no way she'd do anything to blow this. She walked up the outdoor staircase as you gave your aliased names to the guard and flashed fake drivers licenses that were pretty much real, considering the government had created them.

Loki declined the arrival champagne for the both of you, immediately leading you to the bar. You looked at him as if to remind him that you weren't here to drink, and his subtle smirk replied that he didn't care. He ordered two glasses of a merlot from the one region in Italy that'd won his respect, passing the glass to you once it was laid on the bar.

"To the finer things," he cheers'ed your glass and you scoffed with a laugh, taking a sip of the wine. The rich flavour burst through your mouth. It was dark and deep, spiced with... with... "Cedar," he offered, reading the analysis on your face. "Rosewood, cedar and some sort of stone-fruit."

"Nectarine."

He smiled and took another sip. "We don't have that on Asgard."

"This wine is good," you nodded as you two turned and deconstructed the room and all of its guests.

It made you kind of sick seeing all of these wealthy people in one place pretending to give a damn about Charlie McDane's birthday. It's not that you liked the guy, not at all, it just felt weird to know that every person in here was the exact kind of person you hunted down. Power-hungry. This mansion may as well be a lion's den. But full of naïve lions, who had no idea two apex predators just walked in.

Just when you started wondering how many people in your line of sight had also committed murder to protect their wealth and power, you saw Natasha give a subtle signal of which way the room with the safe was. Loki saw it too.

It was upstairs, but there wasn't much cover to get upstairs. The great foyer's ceiling was three stories up, the two floors above the ground floor you were on had square balconies that let the people upstairs peer downwards into the masses. Nat's fingers adjusting her hair told you that the room was on the second floor. Thankfully, there were guests on the second floor. Under the guise of admiration for the architecture and a desire to explore the great house, you pointed out works of art to Loki as you ascended the stairs together. When you walked past Natasha she smiled politely, like a good host, and asked if you were enjoying the wine.

"It's most divine. Though, I believe my beloved may be in search of a room to powder her nose."

You would have rolled your eyes at his usual choice of asking for information if you weren't aware that security's eyes were everywhere. Even on the event manager.

"You might find what you need up the stairs, down the first hall, third door on your right."

The way her hands were motioning didn't match her hushed description, so you followed the instructions in her voice instead of the way her hands were telling you.

You allowed Loki to lead you upstairs, down the first hall. When you two were certain there were no eyes, he concealed you two with his magic. The hallway was darkened. He pressed his hand against the lock and unfastened it with an unseen pure magic and you two slipped inside. It was a large office with grand mahogany furniture, decorated exactly as you'd expect Old Money Americans to decorate their office. Right down to the bear head above the fireplace and the first edition novels sitting proudly on the shelf, probably unread by their owners. That also made you a little sick: great words sitting unread as trophies.

Scanning the room for any obvious signs of the safe, your eyes settled on a panel in the wood on the side of the desk. There was a slightly smaller gap in the wood on one side, indicating hinges. You held your hands up to Loki and he conjured thin gloves to grace your fingers, then you pressed gently on the wood to engage the latch. The panel swung open to reveal the safe. Shifting out of the way, Loki took your place and placed a gloved hand on the dial. In less than three seconds, it spun rapidly in each direction before clicking open.

"We should really consider robbing banks," you whispered as the black metal door swung open and you were met with stacks of paper and envelopes.

"Need I remind you I am a Prince? If it's gold you want, darling, say the word."

"Eh," you shrugged, feeling around for the gun. "I meant more for the thrills."

Loki chuckled as your fingers found a familiar-feeling package. You pulled the envelope out and peered inside before showing Loki the sight of a small pistol. He nodded and took it from you carefully, then concealed it in some unknown magical space close to him.

You closed the safe carefully and then your gloves disappeared. Moving quietly back to the door, you listened for several moments to make sure no one was coming. Then, you both slid out and began walking down the hall like a loving couple.

Suddenly, a guard appeared at the end of the hallway. Thinking fast, you opened the closest door to you and pushed Loki inside. There was a shout you vaguely heard before you shut and locked the door again.

"Shit," you hissed. You were in someone's bedroom. Or maybe it was a guest room, considering how clean and un-lived-in it looked. There was a fireplace, like in the office, and a large four-poster bed against one wall. In the middle of the room were two plush couches that faced each other and were side-on to the door. You two walked over to them to get the vantage of being in the centre of the room and quickly searched for an exit.

"I'll cast an illusion," Loki whispered, ready to wave his hands and make it look as if you two weren't here.

"No!" You whispered, eyes wide. "They already saw us come in here. If we disappear, they'll know something's up and lock the place down."

"Then what do you propose?" He held his hands out, annoyingly unbothered by the prospect of blowing a mission. The doorknob twisted and you both snapped your heads towards it, then back at each other.

"Sit," you hissed and shoved him back onto the sofa right behind him. He stumbled and fell with a small indignant noise of surprise. You heard the tinkling of keys and your heart beat in your chest.

"Agent?"

Knowing the security team was about to enter, you acted fast. "I'll never hear the end of this," you mumbled before sliding forward to straddle his lap. His eyebrows shot up his forehead as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and looked at him with nervous urgency. "Kiss me."

Loki didn't question it, and he certainly didn't need to be told twice. His hands found their place. One at the small of your back, one firmly gripping the hair at the nape of your neck. Then, he pulled you in for a fiery kiss.

You barely heard the door open as you lost yourself in the strength of his hold, the steady and eager grasp with which he held you. His hands found their places as if they'd been there a thousand times before, as if he knew exactly how you'd feel the safest, feel the most desired. You pulled him deeper by the back of his neck and could have sworn he made a small noise of satisfaction.

Oh no.

He kept kissing you, you kept kissing him, even after the head of the security team had cleared his throat a number of times. As much as you knew you'd already sold it, and boy you sold it well, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Were all Asgardians this good at kissing, or was it just Loki?

Oh. No.

"HEY!"

The sudden loud command pulled you away and, much to your internal mortification, you didn't need to feign how flustered you were.

"O-oh my," you squeaked and looked up at the man, blushing profusely.

Okay, the squeak was fake, but it felt almost real.

You stayed put where you were straddling Loki's lap and grimaced when you saw Natasha, still in character, entering the room. "What's going on, I need you downstairs to- oh!" She looked a little taken aback by your position atop the prince who, you were fuming to see from the corner of your eye, had the audacity to be smirking.

"My apologies," Loki drawled in his growly regal voice, trailing his hands around to your sides. "I simply couldn't control myself, seeing my queen in this dress..." He punctuated it with an "Mmph" and a firm squeeze at your hips. You flinched and squirmed a bit under the ticklish touch, trying to keep your composure but letting a small giggle slip out. Then, catching the pleased and mischievous glint in his eye, you dug your nails into the back of his shoulder to warn him off trying that again.

"This room's off limits," the guard tilted his head towards the door and you made to move your way off of Loki's lap. Instead, with his incredible strength, he stood with his hands still at your hips, lifting you to your feet before turning and wrapping an arm around your waist.

He looked the guard up and down, "Of course, good sir." You bit your lip and blushed, cowering in Loki's hold as you exited the room together. Nat smirked at you and winked before proceeding to fall back into character and tell the guards there was a belligerent drunk man downstairs needing to be kicked out. That man would be Wilson, who was playing his part as tipsy distraction.

Loki led you down the hall and you rounded a corner, then you broke off from him and held a hand to your chest. "That was too close," you breathed deeply once, then met his eye. You glared when he saw him smirking at you.

"Do I have lipstick on my face?" He asked, feigning worry.

"Oh, shut up," you swatted his shoulder. "I did what I had to do."

"I never knew you had the passion in you, Agent," Loki smirked again. You glared once more and peeked around the corner, only to jump and hold in a yelp as Loki's pinching fingers found your hip. "I also never knew you were so ticklish."

"That's not something people advertise- cut it ouhout!" You swatted his hand and squirmed away from him as he prodded his fingers into your side. "We have the gun, let's get out of here."

"Tsk, you're no fun," Loki scoffed.

You exited the party and made your way down the block towards the van, knowing that Nat's glasses had broadcast at least the last part of your little tussle with Loki. Steeling yourself as you gripped the handle, you reminded yourself that you were a professional, and this was sometimes a hazard of the job. You needed to play it cool when the eventual teasing came.

"Hey, lovebirds," Tony quipped the second he saw your faces.

"Hey," you chuckled, stepping inside and removing your heels the second you found your seat. "We got it."

"Here," Loki closed the door behind him and pulled the enveloped gun from the magical space he'd hidden it. "So you saw the Agent's display of passion, did you?"

"You wound me, Loki," you deadpanned. "I thought we had a mutual connection."

Perhaps those words were a mistake considering all the truth behind them. However, all the best lies were founded on truth, and for now you needed to convince everyone in the van that you weren't totally freaking out because you'd felt the most passionate attraction you'd had in years with a former villain. I mean... how predictable.

Loki looked at you suspiciously as he took his seat, but something in his gaze told you he wasn't going to prod deeper on this. Not right now, at least. Not in front of everyone.

Nat and Sam joined the fray five minutes later and you all got a move-on back to the Compound. Nat poked more fun at the position she'd found you two in, and you laughed good-naturedly at all their jokes. Loki was uncharacteristically silent, and seemed to always be looking at you when you laughed and instinctively checked to see if he was laughing too.

The jokes shifted to Sam and the wine he spilled down his shirt, then the conversation shifted to the next steps of what to do with the gun, then you all arrived back.

Tony got to work dismantling his rig, declining your help, and so you took your field weapons over to the cabinet to put them back in their places. As you were unclipping the magazine from your pistol, you felt a presence behind the door. You peered around to see Loki.

"What's up?" You raised your eyebrows and snapped the case shut, then closed the door.

He looked at you meaningfully, quizzically, but didn't say anything.

"Okay..." you chuckled uncomfortably and put the latch on the door in place. "I'm going to shower."

You made to walk past him but he grabbed your upper arm, stopping you by his side. Facing different ways, he leaned in a little closer and spoke quietly. "I can spot a lie from lightyears away."

Turning to look at him, you'd probably have been caught off-guard by how close his face was if it hadn't been for the events of earlier. You shrugged, pulling your arm from his grasp. "I didn't lie."

He scoffed and also turned to look at you, eyes flitting once down to your lips, then back up to pierce your gaze with his. "You know what I meant."

You were proud of how composed you kept yourself when you shrugged again and kept walking, swallowing hard.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Never one to waste water, you took an uncharacteristically long shower. Haphazardly smearing face wash over your skin to scrub the makeup off, scrub away the flustered energy. But no amount of scrubbing could help you forget the feeling of his kiss, and shampooing the hairspray from your head only made you remember the feeling of his fingers in your hair.

You reminded yourself that it had been a very long time since you'd kissed someone. You were probably just desperate, definitely a little touch-starved in general, so the fact that it was Loki didn't matter as much as the fact that it had happened.

That's what you told yourself over and over as you threw on sweatpants and a soft long-sleeved shirt. It was cold and the marble floors could be unforgiving, so you thought it best to go for fluffy socks, but then pulled some slippered boots over the top. You didn't bother brushing your wet hair, letting it fall where it wanted as you made your way to the kitchen.

"That smells good," you commented as Nat pulled some dish out of the oven.

"Mmm," she agreed with an excited smile. "Nico is my favourite," she admitted slyly, referring to one of the chefs Pepper would call in to prepare a bunch of heatable meals during busy periods. Delivery app drivers would probably cancel the order if you tried, thinking it must be a joke that a super solider was asking for a Big Mac to be delivered to the Avengers Compound. Besides, by the time it was scanned and made sure to not contain a deadly poison, it would be cold and stale. "There's enough for you too," Nat said, pulling out another plate and serving you a steaming slice of vegetarian lasagne.

"Thanks," you smiled, still a little distracted. Of course, with someone as perceptive as Nat, that wouldn't be allowed to slip by.

She leaned against the counter and poked at her meal, not meeting your eye to keep it less direct. "You alright?"

"Hmm?" You looked up, and so did she, then you looked back down to your food and shrugged. It was no use lying to her. "I think I'm lonely," you laughed humourlessly, nervously, sadly.

"The kiss got to you," she said knowingly, placing her fork down to give you her full attention. You didn't return the favour, nervous about what you'd say if you were really talking about this. Which, as long as you were here eating dinner, you weren't really talking about it.

"It's not like I haven't kissed a fellow Agent before to keep cover," you sighed a little, shaking your head. "It's just been a while, I guess, since I've had... anything... or, someone."

"I get that," she nodded, picking up her fork again. You two ate in silence for several moments. "This is really good," she declared through an extra-large mouthful. You chuckled and nodded, swallowing another bite. After several more moments, she said quietly, "It's okay if you felt something."

That made you choke a bit. Noticeably, unfortunately. You shook your head, but didn't deny it. "No. It's not okay."

"Why not?" She asked as if you were crazy.

"It's not okay," you repeated firmly, stabbing your fork again at the lasagna. "It's not."

Before she could attempt to pry for more information, Thor and Loki entered the kitchen together. Great.

"Good evening," Thor beamed a toothless smile.

"There's more in the fridge if you're hungry," you looked up at them in an attempt to not seem as regressed in on yourself as you felt. Thor looked at your plate and nodded in approval, opening the fridge. Then you looked at Loki, fully expecting to see some kind of calculating stare as before, but his expression was soft. He looked you over, probably noticing your out-of-character hunched posture and the way your head hung a little lower than usual, and he gave you a look that was subtly laced with sympathy.

Now that made your blood boil. Who was he to feel sorry for you?

He seemed to notice the way your jaw clenched under his gaze, and opened his mouth to say something but Thor spoke first.

"There's a film Stark wants us all to watch this evening."

Nat chuckled, finishing off her dinner. "You say that like he's showing us training videos. He's just trying to bond the team over some cheesy nineties movie." She looked at you and nodded to your clothes. "You look ready for a movie night."

Before you could explain that you'd rather go to bed, Thor beamed again. "Excellent, then! We'll all be there."

Thor was always kind to you, so you didn't want to disappoint him over something so inconsequential. You smiled warmly at him and nodded. "I'm gonna go claim a good spot," you excused yourself, aware it was almost time for it to start. You quickly did your dishes and left the kitchen, making sure to get a seat on a large armchair so you made it clear you'd rather have some personal space right now, even though it was the exact opposite of what you wanted. Maybe it would be good for you though, to remember that you were alone for a reason. That this life you chose wasn't kind too love.

Gods, love. Why did you think of that word, of all the ones out there. You were spiralling. Sentiment, you corrected yourself with a swift reprimand. Sentiment, loneliness, desperation.

You busied yourself chatting to Wanda as people filtered in, taking note of how she seamlessly wove herself in and around Vision as they sat on a two-seater next to you. Determined not to look at or think of Loki or romance or kissing or anything like that, you trained your eyes on the screen as the movie started.

But you spiralled.

There were these two main characters in the movie with this undeniable bickering co-worker chemistry that reminded you of Loki, the jokes he’d whisper into your ear during meetings, the harmless mischief he’d pull to make you laugh, the way his hand felt at your lower back- NO. You couldn’t think about that.

Wanda and Vision were in your line of sight from the corner of your eye and you saw her fingers lace through his, you then saw him place a silent kiss on the crown of her head. Biting down on your tongue, you remembered Nat and Bruce, Pepper and Tony, Thor and Jane, Clint and Laura. All those people who seemed to find love, even temporary love, in the midst of all this madness.

So maybe it wasn’t this life. Maybe it was just… you.

Biting your tongue a little harder, you reminded yourself how powerless you were compared to all these super-people. Sure, many of them were human like you, but all the other humans seemed to have someone who loved them.

It felt hopeless, knowing the only person in this room who you wanted close was so extraordinarily out of your league. He was a god. You were a human. Your life was a flicker compared to his, of course he’d never waste time indulging the likes of you.

But it felt real.

Halfway through the movie you decided you couldn’t sit there and see these buddy-cop characters fall in love. You couldn’t watch Wanda and Vision so enamoured with each other. What you needed was to hit something hard, and then go to sleep. So you excused yourself without a word or a glance at anyone. It was late, anyway. You weren’t even the first one to leave.

A turn of a black-haired form told you that Loki noticed you leaving, but the lack of footsteps behind you as you walked down the silent hall told you that he hadn’t followed you.

Slipping into your room and then into some workout clothes, you jammed your headphones into your ears and put on some classical music; you weren't sure you could stand to hear any words right now. You laced your shoes a little tighter than normal and practically sprinted to the gym, very unwilling to have anyone notice you were gone and decide to come check on you.

Hitting the bag felt good. It was the perfect consolation prize for what you'd actually prefer right now, but with every crushing of your knuckles against the thick canvas you found it easier to forget how it felt to have your fingers looped through his hair. The sweat dripping down your face replaced the feeling of his breath against your skin when you'd broken the kiss, and the aching in your obliques from your tensing and turning to hit the bag took the place of any memory of his hands at your waist. The aching was here, and he was almost gone.

After a half-hour of interval sprints, it was just past midnight and you were exhausted. Not knowing how you felt about no one coming to check on you, you traipsed back to your room in silence. The faint echoing of your footsteps through the hallways made you quiet yourself further, stepping as lightly as you could to prove to yourself that you were still a good spy. Good spies don't get caught up with feelings. Your footsteps fell, dead quiet, and you regained some confidence.

Your muscles stung the next morning but in a delightful way. You'd treated yourself to another hot shower when you got back to your room, so this morning it would probably be best to have an icy one.

As the cold water hit your skin, you felt okay again. The boxing and running last night had really shaken everything out of you, only the smallest lingering of lonely desire remained and it could easily be ignored. Of course, that was easy to say. The second you walked into the kitchen to see that Loki had heard you coming and poured you a coffee you felt a tug at your chest.

His hands closed around the mug to pass it to you and you remembered how his fingers had closed around your waist. He smiled good morning and you remembered how his lips felt against yours. Holding it all in, you smiled and took the coffee, then proceeded to have a short conversation with him like a normal person would. He made jokes about last night, but not about that, and you chuckled at them. After perhaps too short a time for how long you usually chatted, you excused yourself to go do some paperwork. You caught the way his brow furrowed a little, but he didn't question you.

The next few days were more or less like this. You'd try to engage with Loki normally but spiral a little more, convincing yourself that the more you continued like you always had, the more normal things would be again. But he was just so... beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful and now you couldn't help but notice.

One evening, nearly a week after you'd kissed, you were having a bit of a vulnerable day and you walked into the kitchen for some ice cream. Loki had just finished cleaning up after his dinner and turned to say hello, but you couldn't do it. You just turned and walked right back out again. He called after you but you didn't stop. It's not like you were going to cry in front of him, but you just couldn't do this right now.

Seeking refuge in your bedroom, you shut the door and slid down to the floor with your back against it. An immediate soft knock frustrated you, especially knowing who it probably was. You sighed and stood.

“Hey,” you greeted Loki with a nod when you opened the door, immediately turning away to make it look like you were about to do something else. “What’s up?”

Loki stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, which made you stop and give him your attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied.

He squinted for the faintest second and smiled a little sadly. “Light years,” he reminded you how he could spot a lie without harshly calling you out. It pained you that he didn’t. That his lack of sarcasm indicated that he saw you as a bit fragile right now.

You sighed a little and ducked your head to the side, conceding the point. “I’m a little haywire,” you admitted. “I think I need to get some stress out and go to sleep.”

”What troubles you?”

Ah. What a question.

You didn’t want to shut him out, but you certainly didn’t know how to explain that one simple kiss undercover had brought a massive crashing wave of insecurity and anxiety that made you feel completely unlovable. Or... maybe you could just say that?

You were silent for so long that Loki spoke again.

“I’d like to offer my apologies,” he said very diplomatically. “If I overstepped the bounds of our relationship.”

“I’m the one that made you kiss me,” you winced. “I should be apologising.”

”I didn’t mean that,” Loki shook his head. “I meant after, when we returned. When I cornered you.”

You had to laugh. “You didn’t corner me, Loki. I appreciate you wanting to make me feel better but you have nothing to apologise for.”

”Very well. But you didn’t make me,” he replied firmly.

“I know, I know…” you rolled your eyes. “A god submits to no one, I just meant that I put you in a situation that I shouldn’t have. Believe me, I’m paying the price.”

That last part came out a little faster than you’d intended it to. In fact, you didn’t really mean to say that last part out loud at all. Or maybe you did. What a perfect Freudian Slip. Quickly collecting yourself, you spotted your headphones and went to pick them up but noticed that Loki was taking slow steps towards you.

”Paying the price?” He asked carefully. You stopped and folded your arms, shrugging.

“People poke fun, you know.” You bit your tongue. Then, you saw him smirk a little. Ah. Lightyears.

“I thought we had a mutual connection,“ he raised his eyebrows, teasing you with your joke from That Night. You gave him a firm stare, but couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t that far away now.

“Loki, that was-“

“A thinly veiled truth,” he interjected, leaving no room for debate. He also left very little room between the two of you. You opened your mouth to respond, seemed to not be able to, and he smirked at your speechlessness.

"Y-you can't." You shook your head. "There's no way."

"There's no way, what?" A smiled tugged at his lips at the way your eyes widened when he took a strand of your hair and wrapped it once around his finger.

"... Mutual?"

“Now that we won’t be interrupted…” he brought his hand up next to his face, flourished it, and you heard your door’s lock click shut. You held your breath as a mischievous grin graced his lips.

Oh gods, you were looking at his lips. You couldn't seem to look away.

He lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Might we finish what we started?”

With the smallest nod of your head, he immediately ducked his head to press his lips against yours. Your small noise of surprise made him pull away for a second and grin, before he playfully growled and lifted you from the ground. His eyes stayed trained on yours as he walked a few steps and firmly shoved your back against the wall. Your breath hitched as his hand found that place at the back of your neck, and this time, you kissed him. Eagerly, hungrily, feeling so overwhelmingly euphoric that this was even happening.

It had to be a dream, you thought as his lips trailed along your jawline, his hot breath hit your neck and his strong unwavering arms kept you above the ground and level with his gaze. He kissed you not just like a god or a great lover - he kissed you like he wanted you. Like he‘d also been waiting to do this for an unspeakable amount of time. It felt like relief.

Pulling you both back from the wall, Loki's lips didn’t relent as your fingers tangled once again in his hair. He walked backwards and found his seat on the end of your bed, sitting with you in his lap as he had at the party.

“Gods, you enrapture me,“ he pulled away, a little breathless. He grinned and his eyes were hazy. He looked at you intensely before looking back at your lips, subconsciously slipping out his tongue to wet his own. Before you could respond, he was kissing you again. You could have melted into his touch. In fact, you were fairly certain you just might.

He leaned back and you both fell onto the bed, you on top of him. You laughed at the sudden impact and you pulled away for a few seconds to catch your breath. You looked at his adoring gaze and blushed. “I never thought someone like you could want someone like me.”

He furrowed his brow, unsure if you were about to reference his nefarious past.

”You’re so… mighty. You’re a Prince, a god, you’re wickedly smart and powerful and… and I’m just a human.”

“Watch your tongue,” Loki scolded somewhat seriously and held you a little tighter. “Don’t speak of yourself as if you’re insignificant.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, giving him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course I do, I’m wickedly smart,” he smirked and you playfully swatted at his chest. He smiled contentedly and ran his hands firmly down your sides to settle at your hips. It was an innocent romantic gesture, one to position you for further making-out with Loki, but your eyes widened at the memory of his discovery the previous weekend and the assumption that the God of Mischief was about to turn the tables.

Unluckily for you, your flustered expression rendered it a self-fulfilling prophesy.

“Loki…” You warned as you saw the glint in his eye.

“That’s right…” His smirk widened to a devilish grin.

”How about you keep kissing me, huh?” You laughed nervously and leaned in closer. Loki laughed and nodded, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of your neck as you pressed your lips to his. Once your arms were around his neck, he deepened the kiss and rolled over, putting you underneath him. Still on the edge of the bed, your feet barely skimmed the floor. Then, he suddenly became the classic Loki you knew.

“Mmmhmhm!” You whined and giggled a little into the kiss as the fingers belonging to his arm around your waist started ever so gently scratching at your side. “Mmnnoho!” You broke away and gave him a pouting look. He lifted his head and smirked.

Gods. He’d never looked so unspeakably hot.

Messy curls framing his face, that look he gave you that said You’re In Trouble in his distinct Loki way, mixed with the desire in his piercing blue eyes; you’d gladly endure his torture if it meant he looked at you like that.

But maybe that’s because you had no idea what was coming.

“Darling,” he cocked his head and kissed your cheek before kissing just below your ear. “I am the God of Mischief….“ he kissed your neck in a way that you were sure was intended to tickle. You giggled and bit your lip. “And now that I've got my hands on you, you simply cannot expect me to not exploit this little weakness to its fullest extent.”

“L-Loki!” You blushed at the very real threat and he chuckled.

“How about you guide me, hmm? Where should I start?”

“I’m not playing this game,” you laughed nervously, squirming a bit underneath him and resting your hands on his shoulders to push away the ticklish kisses.

“Aw, come now,” he lifted his head and that same beautiful smirk made your heart beat quick. His hand behind your neck slid down under your shoulder blade until it sat at your upper ribs. You stole a glance down to where it may be, even though you couldn’t see it. He cocked his head again. “No? Alright, I’ll choose.” With a wink his thumb slipped around the side and up into the hollow under your arm.

“LOKI!” You gasped, clamped your arm down from instinct and immediately started squirming and giggling, even though his thumb wasn’t even moving. He grinned again and kissed your lips once more.

“You've been down all week, love. Let's have a bit of fun,” he whispered, then sprang his hand at your waist into action, scratching and grabbing at the soft skin hidden beneath your shirt. You gasped again and started laughing softly, then squeaked when his thumb started wiggling into the hollow under your arm.

"NOHOHO!" You shut your eyes and then squealed loudly when his fingers underneath you began clawing into the back of your uppermost ribs. Damnit, you thought he may start easy on you, not go for three different places at once. You were already in a desperate cackle, bubbling incoherent pleas spilling from your lips as you writhed underneath his amused self.

"I'm honestly delighted you're so ticklish," Loki teased with a chuckle. "It's adorable, really. So professional all the time, yet..." He finished his sentence by intensifying his touch and speed at all three sites of attack, drawing a small shriek from your laughing lips and a jolt from your body. "Has it always been this easy to undo you?"

“OHMYGOHOD!” You shrieked, throwing your head against the bed and trying to buck your upper body against him to no avail. He paused his torture and kissed you deeply again, lips curled into a smile as he pressed his lips to yours. You shook your head and broke away, still laughing. “Youhou’re ridiculous! We were hahaving such a nice moment and y-you ruined ihit,” you whimpered. He kissed to again to silence your complaints.

“What did you expect?”

“I-I expected a nice romantic moment!” You laughed and brought both arms between you and him to shove at his shoulders. “Now,” you gave him a stern look. “Do you want to tickle me, or kiss me? You can only choose one.”

He scoffed. “I don’t do ultimatums, darling.”

“You do now.”

“Bold.“ He stuck his tongue against his cheek then ducked his head to the side in consideration. He then looked at your face, which you’d been attempting to hold in some semblance of a firm glare. He lowered his lips to your ear and you heard him chuckle once. “Far too bold for someone so ticklish.”

He whipped his arms out from under you and pressed his weight down again, trapping your arms between your bodies as he clawed into the front and sides of your lowest ribs.

“NOHOAHAH!” You immediately fell into desperate belly-laughter as his fingers drilled and clawed into the spaces between your bones. Your feet kicked helplessly, merely grazing the ground as laughter kept spilling from you. “NOHO! NO! LOKIHI I CAHAN’T!” He shifted his hands further up your ribcage and snuck his fingers around to dig in at the back and, after one more shriek, your laughter went silent. It was trapped in your chest as his squeezing and vibrating fingers found every sensitive space on your ribs that made you want to melt into a little puddle. You were gasping for air by the time he halted his attack, squeaking and wheezing as you tried to regain your breath.

It was torture, but you hoped he wouldn’t ask you if it was worth enduring to have him this close. If he could spot a lie from lightyears away, how much easier could he spot it when he was close enough for you to see the flecks of green in his eyes.

”You’re… you’re gonna kill me,” you hiccoughed. He smirked and leaned in for another kiss. “Nuh-uh,” you pulled your finger up as much as you could from where your arms were trapped. “You made your choice.”

He grinned and slid his hands down your sides with a wink, "Oh? Then I'll gladly continue."

"W-w-wait! I dihidn't th-WAHAIT!"

His thumbs drilled relentlessly into your hips as Loki joined in with your loud laughter. You finally managed to wiggle your arms out from where they were trapped at your chest, shooting them down to grab at his fingers. Your feet having no traction and his near entire weight pressing you to the bed made it impossible to buck or lift any part of your torso, so you were completely trapped with nowhere to go as he gripped and grabbed at the skin of your hips, kneading at the pressure points that made you squeak and squirm beneath him.

When he tired of your fingers trying to grab his, he did a devilish swift lift of his own body and slotted his hands between the two of you, settling them palms-down over the majority of your belly. You made a huge gasping noise and started frantically giggling and squealing even before he'd moved his hands. You shook your head and begged for him to kiss you instead, nervous high-pitched giggles interlacing your words.

"N-noho, Loki just kihiss me, kiss me plehease! PLEASE!" You squeaked, cupping his cheeks and gently pulling him towards you. He chuckled and grinned, gently digging a few fingers in just once. You thrashed and renewed your struggling and squealing efforts. "Dohon't you DAHARE! I won't kiss you agahain if you do this!" You threatened. He cocked his head and leaned in a little closer to look deep into your eyes. Then, he grinned and whispered:

"Lightyears."

You thought for certain you'd pass out from laughter when Loki's fingers sprang into action and rippled against your hypersensitive stomach. You laughed loudly, completely powerless to stop his fingers from digging in wherever they pleased. After not much time at all, your laughter went silent and you weakly batted at his shoulders, sides, face, anything your hands could find for themselves since your eyes were shut so tight. Any words your brain even began to think of forming got lost as laughter ripped through your chest from the electric intensity of his fingers against your body.

When your hands finally found both sides of his face, you used all the energy you had left to press your laughing lips against his and, finally, he relented. You fell back with a loud gasp as he retracted his hands with an amused chuckle and took his weight mostly off you, propping himself up with a hand planted either side of your head.

"Alright there, darling?" He teased as you coughed weakly and wiped the tears of mirth from your cheeks. You gave him a scowl, but he found it adorable.

"Thihis isn't fair," you crossed your arms defiantly.

"No?" He smirked. "Pray tell, my love. What isn't fair?"

Oh. My love. His love.

That took any breath you'd managed to get back in your lungs.

"Y-you... you..." But your words were lost in the bliss of being his. He seemed to quickly understand how his words touched your heart, and it softened his teasing demeanour, and softened his smirk into a smile. "You found my worst spots so soon," you managed to murmur through rosy cheeks.

"Was only a matter of time."

"But now you have the upper hand."

"Dear heart, this isn't a struggle for power," he laughed heartily. "I do not seek to rule over you. Anything you ask of me, anything in the Nine Realms, I will give to you."

"Tell me where you're ticklish."

He chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before falling down beside you. He hummed in contentment as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you as close as you could be.

"Anything but that."

[uomo-accattivante]

I recently came across a bunch of press articles and photos about Oscar Isaac that are so old, they appear to be out-of-print and pre-date social media. Considering they were probably never digitally transcribed for internet access,��I’m guessing that the majority of current fans have never seen this stuff.

Even though a lot of these digital scans are challenging to read because they are the original fuzzy news print, I think there some gems worth sharing with you guys. Over the next several weeks, I will transcribe and share those gems on this page. Hope you enjoy them!

Let’s start with this fantastic 2001 profile piece done before Oscar was accepted into Juilliard:

South Florida’s rising star isn’t just acting the part

By Christine Dolen - cdolen@herald.com

February 4, 2001

As fifth-graders at Westminster Christian School in Miami, Oscar Isaac and his classmates were asked to write a story as if they were animals on Noah’s Ark. Oscar turned in a seven-page play – with original music – from the perspective of a platypus. Then he starred in the production his teacher directed.

He hasn’t stopped expressing himself creatively since. Today, Isaac is one of South Florida’s busiest young theater actors, and certainly its hottest. And not just because he’s a slender five-feet nine-inches tall with an expressively handsome face and glistening brown eyes.

Since making his professional debut as a Cuban hustler in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage in July 1999, he has played an explosive Vietnam vet in Private Wars for Horizons Repertory, a pot-smoking slacker in This Is Our Youth at GableStage, another Cuban on the make in Praying With the Enemy at the Coconut Grove Playhouse, the entrancing narrator of Side Man at GableStage, a Havana-based writer in Arrivals and Departures for the new Oye Rep and, most recently, a young Fidel Castro in When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba at New York’s Cherry Lane Theater.

Beginning Wednesday, he’ll be juggling five roles in City Theatre’s annual Winter Shorts festival, first at the Colony Theatre in Miami Beach, then at the Broward Center for the Performing Arts. But that is not all: During the two weeks he is doing Winter Shorts, he’ll also be playing dates with the punk-ska band The Blinking Underdogs (www.blinkingunderdogs.com), which features him as lead singer, guitarist and songwriter.

Oh, and he just got back from auditioning for New York’s prestigious Juilliard School of Drama.

All this for a guy a month shy of his 22nd birthday.

Sure, you could hate a guy who’s that talented, that charismatic, that transparently ambitious. But the people who have worked with Oscar Isaac don’t. On the contrary, they’re all sure he has it – that magical, can’t-be-taught thing that transforms an actor into a star.

Playwright Eduardo Machado, who put in a good word for Isaac at Juilliard, says “he does have that star quality that makes your eyes go to him. It’s great that someone with that talent still wants to train.”

“He has a star quality that’s rare in a young actor,” adds Joseph Adler, who directed him in Side Man and This Is Our Youth. “Without a doubt I expect to be hearing great things from him.”

‘I JUST LOVE CREATING’

Isaac, who also makes short films, can’t say exactly why he was attracted to acting. He just knows it makes him happier than anything, that it’s what he was meant to do. And he’s been doing it since he was a 4-year-old putting on plays in his family’s backyard with his sister Nicole.

“I just love creating, whether it’s music or films or a character on a stage. I love taking people for a ride,” he says. “In Side Man, every night I would love being that close to the audience. I felt like I was talking to 80 of my closest friends.

“I could feel what the audience was feeling.”

His powerful, mournful-yet-loving monologue near the end of the play, he said, “worked every night. I knew it would get them. I’d hear sniffles.

“But it had less to do with me than with the atmosphere [created by the playwright and director].”

You could understand if Isaac, surrounded as he is by praise and possibility, had an ego as burgeoning as his career. Instead, he channels the positive reinforcement into confidence about his work.

“He has such a charm and an ease onstage, but he’s very modest,” says New York-based actress Judith Delgado, who shared the stage with Isaac in Side Man. “He’s hungry. He’s got moxie. I was blown away by him.

“He saved me a couple of times. I went up [forgot a line] and that baby boy of mine came through. He’s a joy.”

FORGING HIS OWN PATH

The son of a Cuban-American father and a Guatemalan mother, Isaac was never a stellar student. But he found ways of turning routine assignments – like the Noah’s Ark story – into creative challenges.

His science reports were inevitably video documentaries underscored with punk music. He acted through middle and high school, though he had a falling out with his drama teacher at Santaluces Community High in Lantana over his misgivings about a character. When she refused to cast him in anything else, he got his English teacher to let him play the dentist in Little Shop of Horrors his senior year.

His skepticism about authority and love of playing the devil’s advocate have long made him resist doing things the usual way. His post-high school “training” consisted of one semester at Miami-Dade Community College’s South Campus (where he met his girlfriend, Maria Miranda), touring schools playing an abusive character in the Coconut Grove Playhouse’s Breaking the Cycle, and working as a transporter of bodies at Baptist Hospital, where he absorbed the drama of people in emotionally intense situations.

“It was the most magnificent dramatic institute I could’ve attended,” Isaac said. “I was able to observe the entire spectrum of human emotion, people under the most extreme duress. I was mesmerized watching the way people interacted with each other in such heightened situations.

“I learned everything about the human condition, and it was real and harsh and brutally honest.”

Yet even given his propensity for forging his own path, something nudged him another direction while he was in New York making his Off-Broadway debut in December. Walking by Juilliard one day, he impulsively went in to ask for an application. Though the application deadline had passed, Isaac persuaded Juilliard to accept his, noting in his application essay that most of the exceptional actors he admires had acquired “a brutally efficient technique” to enhance their talent by studying at places like Juilliard.

Though he won’t know whether he has been accepted until the end of this month, his audition last weekend went well, he says. He did monologues from Henry IV, Part I and Dancing at Lughnasa, adjusting his Shakespearean Hotspur to a more fiery temperature at the suggestion of Michael Kahn, head of Juilliard’s acting program – though not without arguing that Hotspur wouldn’t be speaking to the king that way.

Isaac, not surprisingly, loves a good debate.

Adler, GableStage’s artistic director and a man who is as liberal as Isaac once was conservative, savored the verbal jousting they did during rehearsals for Side Man.

“He knows exactly how to pull my chain,” Adler says with a laugh. “Intelligence is the cornerstone of all great actors, and he’s bright as hell.

“He has relentless ambition but with so much charm. He’s very hard to say no to. He has incredible raw talent and magnetism that is very rare in a young actor along with relentless energy, perseverance and ambition. I see his growth both onstage and off. He’s mature in both places.”

Part of his growth, of course, will necessarily involve dealing with the rejections that are part of any actor’s life. His career is still too new, his string of successes solid, so it’s anyone’s guess how failure will shape him. But director Michael John Garcés, who picked him for When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba after Isaac flew to New York at his own expense to compete with a pool of seasoned Manhattan actors for the role, believes his character will see him through.

“Oscar is realistic, but he’s so willing to go the whole nine yards,” Garcés says. “He didn’t go out when he was in the show here. His focus earned the respect of the other actors, some of whom have been working in New York for 30 years.

“He hasn’t had a lot of blows yet, when the career knocks the wind out of you. But he has talent, determination and focus, and if he has perseverance – my intuition is that he does have it – he could achieve a lot.”

FAMILY TIES

His father and namesake, Baptist Hospital intensive-care physician Oscar Isaac Hernandez, couldn’t be more proud. (Isaac doesn’t use the family surname in order to avoid, in his words, being “put in that Hispanic actor box.”)

“I’m ecstatic that he’s probably going to be going to the most prestigious drama school in the United States,” he says. “School will help him focus his energies and give him discipline. He’s got the raw material and the drive.”

Isaac’s mother, Maria, divorced from his father since 1992, is a kidney-transplant recipient who acknowledges that she’ll miss her son if he moves to New York. But, she adds, she wants him “to live out his dreams. He amazes me every day. He calls me every day. I’m very proud of him.”

Even the other guys in The Blinking Underdogs are fans of Isaac’s acting, though it could take him away from South Florida just as the band appears to be, Isaac says, on the brink of signing a recording deal (it has already put out its own CD, The Last Word, with songs, lead vocals and even cover photography by Isaac.

“Oscar’s the leader of the band, a great musician who amazes me and motivates us,” says sax player Keith Cooper. “I’ve been to see every one of his plays. He’s a phenomenal actor.

“I completely buy into his role in every play. As close as I am to him, I forget it’s Oscar.”

His South Florida theater colleagues credit that to Isaac’s insatiable desire to learn and grow.

Gail Garrisan, who is directing him in Donnie and One of the Great Ones for Winter Shorts, observes, “It’s not often that you find a young actor who is willing to listen and who doesn’t think he knows everything. He loves the work.

“He really brought the young man in Side Man to life. When I saw it in New York, it seemed to be the father’s play. When I saw it here, I felt it was his [Isaac’s] play.”

Oye Rep’s John Rodaz, whom Isaac calls “the best director I’ve ever worked with,” gave the actor his first important job in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage. They met when Isaac came to see Area’s production of Oleanna and the actor, knowing Rodaz ran the theater, introduced himself.

“He has so much energy and such a sparkling personality,” Rodaz says. “He knows how to move in the world. He seems to take advantage of every situation in a good way; he’s not a cold, calculating person who’ll stab you in the back.

“[But] he wants it so badly. Everything he does, he’s the leader. When I was 21, I was taking naps.”

Rodaz coached Isaac on his Juilliard monologues and found the experience energizing.

“I got chills just watching him. That happens so rarely. I was so exhilarated when I came home that I just had to go out and run. You just know he’s got all the tools.”

Christine Dolen is The Herald’s theater critic.

###

[bugmomwrites]

Animal Crossed Lovers (Tamaki Amajiki)

Alrighty so I haven't put any finished work on here in a hot minute, that’s my bad. ANYWHO my mom got me ACNH as an early birthday gift since my birthday (April 5th) just missed the supposed quarantine cutoff date for our area (7th). I may be be stuck inside while everything’s closed, but hey- at least the island of Escapism hardly rests 😉

(SW-3129-0651-5422)

Tamaki Amajiki x GN! Reader

Tamaki was never one to play video games, but he had to admit there was just something...soothing about Animal Crossing that melted much of his anxiety away. Nejire had initially preordered a copy for his birthday weeks ago, but her friend who worked at the local (s/n) (who he may or may not have been crushing on since their second year after they joined them at lunch one day) was able to pull a couple strings and get it on the fourth of March instead of the twentieth. Of course he had no idea, but he was so stunned when he opened it that it didn’t even occur to him that the game wasn’t even out yet until Mirio had reminded him. He didn’t question it though- his friend group was one wild card after another, so he guessed he shouldn’t have been too surprised.

He was thrilled, and just the fact that no one else had a copy yet made it feel all the more personal. Of course he knew in sixteen days it would be all anybody ever talked about, but for the time being it felt like the game, the little world he had created in the past few days with its gentle music and soft, wholesome theme, was his and his alone. The fact that it was a gift from his friends made it all the more special, and even if he had a hectic day at school he could turn on the console and water pretend flowers on a pretend island, and for those few moments, all was right with the world.

He was pulling weeds to sell to Timmy for bells when his screen pinged in the corner that made his blood run cold.

(Gamertag) is online

Playing: Animal Crossing New Horizons

That’s right, you had friended him on the switch after realizing all his friends had one, and now with a fourth person they could have a full team online. Mirio has suggested everyone exchange codes, and you had taken the liberty of showing him how to punch in the code and adding yourself while he sat there trying not to melt into his seat at how excited you got, or how nice you smelled up close. You had passed it back with a beaming grin, telling him you couldn’t wait to do co-ops. At the time he could only nod, speechless as the rest of his friends made idle chatter until the bell rung, and everyone scurried back to class.

He quickly realized he had left the terminal gate open when he was poking around the various features, learning about what each thing does in game. He tried sprinting to the airport to close the gates, and he made it to the dock before a big green banner flashed across his screen reading “you have a visitor!”

Out of the threshold popped your avatar, and for a moment he was grateful he could hide behind a screen. He wanted to be mad, upset even, that you had wandered onto his digital sanctuary, but couldn’t find it in himself because, then again, it was you.

The Nookphone in the top left corner buzzed to life, and he opened up the chat log with shaky hands. In a cutesy, pastel speech bubble was your message, and he wondered how something that was once so therapeutic to him could do a 180 and suddenly become the source of his anxiety.

G/T: Hello! Sorry to pop in unannounced, I hope you don’t mind^^

Tamaki felt his mouth go dry, reading it in your voice and after steadying his breathing, he painstakingly typed out a response.

Suneater: its ok.

G/T: It’s kinda hard to find others to play with when the game isn’t even released yet >~<

Suneater: Oh?

He should have known it was too good to be true. You were only visiting him because no one else was on yet. He sighed, trying to keep the dread from crawling back in before another note popped up.

G/T: The game doesn’t actually release until the first day of spring, but working at (s/n) has its perks. I saw the trailers and the hype and figured it would be the perfect game for you.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him upon reading that. So he wasn’t the last choice- rather, the game simply wasn’t out to the general public yet. But if that was the case, how did you also get a copy?

Suneater: thats nice of you

G/T: And then a little birdy told me you had a birthday coming up, so since I have a couple connections after I got my copy, I asked my manager if they’d set aside one more.

Suneater: you

Suneater: you were the one who helped get it early?

Boy did he feel stupid now. You worked at (s/n), (as you had literally just mentioned in your previous notes), Nejire got him a game that wasn’t out yet, you guys were all mutual friends- how did he not put two and two together?!

G/T: Yes lol that would be me^ you liking it so far? You picked a good name for the island too.

“Sunshine Island” may have seemed a little cliche to most people, but Tamaki had so many things in his life linked to it that by this point, it was just routine. Mirio was his sun in dark times. His nickname Suneater, even the sunflowers he had received from his parents for his birthday each year was tradition. He knew not everyone would see it the way he did, but to him, it was perfect, and he was definitely chuffed when he thought it up and punched it in for the first time.

To hear you loved it too sent a swell of pride through him, and he wondered if it was possible to love someone as much as he did just then.

Suneater: you really think so?

G/T: Absolutely

And with that, the two of you explored Sunshine Island together, he showed you his tent, the shops, and the little orchard of peaches he had arranged. You were impressed by the amount of detail and care that went into arranging everything, and asked if he’d be willing to help you with your island sometime, to which he obliged. 

You guys did some more walking, and he told you to feel free to shake theres and take a couple fruits with you. His native fruit was peaches, and in exchange you dropped a couple of your own fruits from your island on the ground for him to pick up so he could have more variety in his world.

G/T: There’s six different kinds, and each island is assigned one main type of fruit. the more you visit with friends, the more biodiversity you’ll get. Pretty cool right? I have some spare (F/N), and if you take and plant those, they'll grow and multiply!

His avatar hesitantly wandered over to the offering after yours stepped back a little to let him take them. Your generousity was surely appreciated, and even though you couldn't see it, he smiled softly before typing out a new message.

Suneater: Thank you. I’ll go plant those.

The game might have been synced up with real time, even getting darker after a certain hour- yet despite it being outside, neither one of you noticed just how much time had passed between all the bug catching, fishing, exploring and talking. When your screen loaded up a clock that read 2:54 AM, you blinked a few times, as if that would change the reading. But lo and behold, it was going for 3am on a school night, and you knew you both had to get to bed.

G/T: Ah beans its 3am, I gotta get to bed soon. Thanks for letting me hang out on your island, and sorry for keeping you awake >~<

Suneater: don't be sorry, i had a lot of fun. can we play together again sometime?

G/T: Of course! I can't wait to meet up again. Maybe we can visit my island next time? I should have those peaches planted by then, and you can teach me your ways, oh master landscaper.

Tamaki chuckled out loud at that, blushing, as he suddenly had a brilliant idea.

Suneater: That would be nice. Wait here a second.

He scurried off to a patch of flowers he had blooming, and with a shovel, picked up a few in your favorite color before making his way back over and dropping them in front of you.

Suneater: You can start by planting a few of these around your island. It is your favorite color, right?

Now it was your turn to blush as you picked up the (f/c) flowers he dropped in front of you, smiling like a goon at his burst of confidence. How he remembered your favorite color is beyond you, but hey- you weren’t complaining.

G/T: They’re perfect, thank you Tama!

Suneater: You're welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow?

G/N: You know it! Goodnight <3

And on that note you walked down to the airport, his avatar following close behind as if to see you off. It was a simple gesture, but appreciated nonetheless. Both of you powered down your switches for the night before plugging them in, and promptly hopping into your respective beds with racing hearts. It was the perfect end to your digital “date” and you couldn’t wait to log in again.

Thank you for reading! Feedback and reblogs are appreciated. Hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. The inbox is always open for future ideas, so don’t be afraid to drop in. 

Also gonna tag @katsukisprincess​ cause I mean...Animal Crossing and wholesome Tamaki fluff. ‘Nuff said.

[awhitehead17]

Guardian Angel In Disguise

Alternate Universe, Guardian Angel AU, TimKon, Angel Kon, Developing Relationship, Slow Burn.

Summary: With the threats of being removed as Tim’s Guardian Angel, Kon has one final chance to redeem himself worthy of being Tim’s protector.

Taking things to the next level, Kon becomes human to physically be by Tim’s side in hopes he can protect him more so than before. However because Tim is a vigilante Kon’s job is more difficult as Tim constantly puts himself at risk, he’s always running headfirst into danger and is always willing to sacrifice his life for others.

A/N: This story is follow up to "It's my job to protect you." A lot of people showed interest in wanting to see that story developed further so this is the result of that! 

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

Once a human vessel had been created for him, Kon accepted it graciously. After adjusting to being in a physical form for the first time, Kal sent him down to Earth to start his self-proclaimed mission of looking after his human.

Kal sent him to an apartment, stating that’s where he’ll be based for the duration of the mission, it’s also where he’ll keep in contact with the superiors by keeping them updated with regular check-ins. Kal also mentioned that there will be a briefing document waiting for him in the apartment once he arrives, Kon is to read the said document so he can gain further understanding of the details of his mission and to get an idea of what capabilities his vessel has.

As crazy as it sounds Kon needs to learn how to be “human”. Having a human vessel is only a minor part of the job, it simply allows him to look like one. It’ll be down to him to act and blend in with the human population.

Kon already has an idea on how to act human, he’s been around them long enough to pick up their various of mannerisms, how some of them speak and how they act towards one another. He’s been around them enough to know what most agree with and what they don’t, what they class as right and wrong. He’s got the general idea and now it’s about putting that knowledge into practice.

As a Guardian Angel (GA) it’s Kon’s job to protect his assigned human to the best of his abilities. He has to make sure his human is getting through their life as safe as possible and is making the most of it.

Most of the human population are assigned a Guardian Angel, not everyone gets one but most do. A Guardian Angel is assigned to a human from their 10th birthday and the angel stays with them until they reach early adulthood of the age of 25. Only with special circumstances does the angel stay with their human after they turn 25.

Depending on the rank of the Guardian Angel depends on how many humans they are assigned to at a time. Lower rank GA’s get assigned one human at the time while higher ranked GA’s are assigned multiple at a time.

Humans do not know Guardian Angels exist. Some believe in them of course, where human religion comes into play and where they may prey and give offerings to the angels, but the angels never give physical evidence to the fact that they do exist in the world. They let the humans believe what they want. On the other hand some humans are just completely oblivious to their presence altogether.

Kon’s mission starts from the very moment he arrives at the apartment set up for him. He’s stationed in the city of San Francisco as that’s where his human happens to be frequenting the most recently. It’s a reasonable sized apartment with many different rooms for various of functions, it’s clean and tidy, rather bare as it has no personal touches to it and it’s hidden away in the city, providing perfect privacy as its easily blended in with all the other apartments around the block.

He takes a moment to get familiar with his surroundings, learning what room is where and where certain things can be found. Of course everything inside the apartment is to accommodate a human, Kon won’t need a majority of this stuff because of what he is. Unlike humans, Kon doesn’t need to eat or sleep or go to the bathroom. Everything here is just for show.

When he enters the living room he finds the briefing document lying there on the coffee table unopened and waiting to be read. Next to the document is a human device, Kon believes it’s called a mobile phone. He recognises it of course, he always sees the humans carry one around with them, each one if different and comes in different colours. His own human has one himself, though he often changes it every couple of months.

Settling down on the sofa, Kon picks up the document. He doesn’t necessarily want to read it but he knows he has too, it’s too important to ignore. The document contains information about his mission and details about his vessel.

Kon is in a peculiar situation. Normally GA’s don’t have human vessels, they are free spirits with no physical ties to Earth and its only in rare and special occasions where they may take up a human vessel and have a presence on Earth.

The reason Kon has a vessel is because he’s on a thin line with his superiors as he’s been failing his job of protecting his assigned human. His human has been hurt multiple times in the last few months and with how frequent his injuries have been Kon’s superiors have taken notice. In result of that his main superior, Kal-El, had threatened to remove Kon as his assigned human’s GA. Not agreeing with the idea, Kon retaliated, exclaiming that he would have better chance of keeping his human safe if he were physically with him, but because of the rules that isn’t allowed. Kal considered the situation and in the end made a deal with Kon.

Kon is to spend 12 weeks on Earth to keep his human from being drastically injured or killed. If Kon manages to keep his human safe in that time then he will be kept as his Guardian Angel, however if something happens in that time then Kon fails and he loses his position as his human’s GA.

So all in all, his mission for the next 12 weeks is to keep his human safe from harm.

One would think that’s relatively easy right? Well wrong. Because Kon isn’t assigned an ordinary human, no, he’s assigned a human who works as something called a vigilante. His human, Timothy – Tim – Drake is known as the vigilante Robin. As much as he admires his human it frustrates him to no ends. Without meaning too this asshole makes Kon’s job so much harder than it needs to be because he constantly puts himself in danger. He’s always running headfirst into danger and is always willing to sacrifice his life for others.

Kon knows he can’t stop Tim from doing his job. At the end of the day Kon has seen him grow into the role he has now, he’s seen how hard his human has worked for it and despite the injures he receives Tim is brilliant at what he does and Kon doesn’t particularly want to stop him from doing it. He just wants to make sure Tim is as safe as he can be while doing it.

Kon’s best bet is to join his human on his crusade, to get close to him and offer physical protection and watch his back that way. What he needs to work out now is how he’s going to get close to Tim.

As a vigilante Tim is naturally more suspicious, he’s very paranoid of things, is well guarded and cautious. His life outside of vigilantism is just as hardcore, he’s the adopted son of the famous Bruce Wayne, that alone makes Tim a target for more reasons than one. The Wayne family is very close and very private.

If Kon has any hope in getting close to Tim he feels like trying to reach out to Tim as Robin would be the best approach. Perhaps he could form a working relationship with his human and make connections with his team, the Teen Titans.

As Kon thinks through his tactics he continues reading through the document seeing what else it says. It makes it very clear that Kon cannot give away what he is and the real reason why he’s there. If Kon fails to hide this then he also fails the mission and will be removed as Tim's GA. This rule certainly makes his mission harder but Kon understands it.

Kon reaches the section about his vessel in the document. He studies the section with a keen interest. It’s important he understands his vessel early on, he’s never had a physical form before so there are things he needs to learn and be mindful of.

Thankfully when Kal made this vessel he allowed Kon to keep some of his powers and according to the document he even has some additional ones. Kon has the power of flight, telekinesis, he’s got super strength, super speed and super hearing, he’s got x-ray vision, heat vision and apparently he’s invulnerable.

That all sounds great, it makes him sound almost unstoppable, but the document states he does have a weakness. If he's ever exposed to something called kryptonite, then Kon will become weak, he’ll get nauseous if he’s near it and if he’s exposed to it for too long then he could even pass out from pain. Kon’s never heard of kryptonite but he really hopes he never crosses paths with it.

As well as kryptonite, Kon can exhaust his vessel if he uses too much power. He needs to rest regularly, not necessarily sleep, but rest and recuperate when he can. That being said the document brings up that he won’t need to eat, sleep or go to the bathroom, these being his GA abilities that’s transferred over to the vessel. Kon already knew this but it is good to see it confirmed. On the other hand, it also mentions that he will have to pretend to do these things to keep up the façade of being a human. Apparently if he does end up eating anything it won’t actually hurt him in anyway.

Kon reaches the end of the document and chucks it back down onto the coffee table. He sighs and leans back into the sofa thinking about what he needs to do.

He has 12 weeks to make sure Tim stays safe. At the moment he knows his human is currently laid up on an infirmary bed suffering from a few injuries from a recent mission that went sideways. After all that’s what’s gotten Kon into this situation to begin with. Tim won’t be leaving the medical bay in that Tower for another couple of days and he won’t be going out on any missions for a good three weeks, that at least gives Kon some time to plan and come up with something for when Tim does go back out into the field. Realistically Tim shouldn’t be doing any vigilante work for a good six to eight weeks but Kon knows how stubborn Tim can be.

Kon needs to come up with a way for how he's going to get close to Tim. His human will be suspicious of him at first and Kon needs to show him that he's a friendly face with no ulterior motives, even though that’s exactly what he is.

Kon sighs and runs his hands over his face. This is so frustrating! He really didn’t think this through fully when Kal presented the opportunity of having a vessel, now he's stuck here with no clue on how to proceed with his mission and it’s only just started!

A high pitched noise gets his attention. He pulls his hands away from his face and frowns trying to work out what it was. Was he hearing things or did that sound actually happen? When it happens a second time Kon jumps off his sofa and starts searching the apartment for the source of the noise, at least that is until movement outside the window gets his attention.

Kon moves over to the living room window and looks out of it. At first all he sees is the busy streets of the city and the sunshine of the day. Just as he’s about to shake it off as his imagination a blur passes his window. Kon blinks and looks down the street trying to focus on what it had been. It’s too fast for the human eye to notice it but when he focuses his attention on it, using his abilities, he finds that it’s a girl flying through the air heading downtown. Kon blinks again when he sees another blur race through the streets on the ground, this time it being someone running at high speeds.

It takes a moment but he soon realises that they are members of the Titan’s. He recognises them as part of Tim’s team!

Now his attention is on the city he finally notices how there seems to be some sort of battle happening. Some kind of creatures were coming out of magical swirls that appear randomly down on the streets below. The high pitched noises he had heard were coming from humans on the street who were running away from the strange creatures that kept appearing. Kon’s never seen anything like that before and sure enough he’s seen some weird things in his time and especially recently since he’s been Tim’s GA.

Downtown he sees the Titan’s tackling the creatures as they jump out of the glowing portals, they knock them down before they could make it further into the city but they kept coming, seeming to never stop.

Kon takes a deep breath. Well when the opportunity presents itself, he has to go after it right? This could be his way into getting close to Tim. He could fight alongside the Titan’s, gain their trust, introduce himself as someone new and go from there? He’s got the powers to do it so he may as well go for it.

With that in mind Kon rushes to the front door of his apartment and starts making his way downtown to join the battle. He’ll just have to work out everything else along the way and hope for the best.

[onceinabluehanguangjun]

moon in my window

Summary: for the @mdzsnet Lan Wangji birthday celebration, have some chronically depressed Lan Zhan and how his family (main focus on his husband) helps support him

Word Count: ~4k

Tags: depression, post-canon

ao3

“Ah, Er-gege, you’re too kind.”

Lan Wangji sat on the edge of the bed, a cup of tea in his hand which he held out to Wei Wuxian. He smiled in thanks, but couldn’t hide the wince. Mo Xuanyu’s body was admittedly very good at putting up with Wei Wuxian’s spirit, but it was still much less accustomed to him than Wei Wuxian’s previous body and therefore was much more susceptible to silly things. Like runny noses and never-ending headaches. Apparently Mo Xuanyu didn’t overwork his brain in the same way Wei Wuxian did. Who would’ve guessed?

With the wave of Lan Wangji’s hand, the little bit of light that shined through the paper windows was gone and they were engulfed in darkness. It lessened the pressure on his temples just enough to be thankful even more.

“Is this medicinal?” Wei Wuxian asked softly. Lan Wangji hummed his confirmation. “Ah, we should talk to Wen Ning and see if he remembered the tea Wen Qing would make me whenever I wouldn’t let her stick me with needles. It always worked for whatever was messing with me.”

“I will,” Lan Wangji said softly, voice low and careful as to not make it worse.

Wei Wuxian drank the tea as fast as his body would allow before he put the cup back in Lan Wangji’s hands and tipped forward. His head rested against the soft, expensive fabric that all the Lans wore and it just made him want to pull him into bed and trap him there for hours. Well, most things about him made him want to do that.

“Can Er-gege stay in today? Sleep sounds so nice.”

“I cannot,” Lan Wangji said softly, his arm wrapping around him and his warm hand pressing to his lower back. Wei Wuxian whined quietly, as much as his headache would allow.

“You’re Chief Cultivator, no one can tell you what to do,” Wei Wuxian said. Lan Zhan hummed, holding him carefully and closely.

“Senior Wei is the one who has a class to teach,” he said. Wei Wuxian blinked a few times as his thoughts shifted back into focus. Sometimes it was too easy to forget how good things had become. He had a husband, he had a garden, he got to teach cute little Lans about using their heads instead of just reciting rules.

All of which he loved, but a whine still found its way out into the world as he thought about having to teach when even the shielded sun of the Cloud Recesses hurt him.

“Lan Zhan, who let me have responsibilities?”

Lan Wangji breathed in slowly, head bowing to rest against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. He sat there for a moment and, truthfully, for a moment he thought he might’ve convinced him to spend all day in bed.

“Er-gege,” Wei Wuxian breathed, sliding his hand beneath his hair to touch the nape of his neck. Lan Wangji seemed to rest a little more weight on Wei Wuxian which was admittedly out of character. He turned his head a bit to look at him, squinting in the darkness to get a better look at his face, headache be damned. He looked fine, if only just laying against Wei Wuxian. “Ah, Lan Zhan, I see. You do want to stay in bed.”

There was a long stretch of silence before a low grunt of agreement. Wei Wuxian smiled and scratched at where his hair met his neck.

“I can’t, you see,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Lan Wangji’s clothed shoulder, “This humble one has a class to teach.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said. He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position and Wei Wuxian felt warmed at how much he’d been able to wear him down even if they did have to get up.

Still, they sat long enough for Lan Wangji to pass him some spiritual energy to help him power through his headache and then he was pulled to his feet.

-

“Ready, Wei-qianbei?”

“As ever. Give it a try.”

Wei Wuxian leaned back on his palms as he watched Lan Jingyi focus very hard to activate the talisman he’d invented. Their assignment for the week was to create a new spell or talisman of some sort inspired by the word ‘alarm’. He shouldn’t have been surprised when a piercing noise wailed through the room in one short burst before the talisman disintegrated. Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but laugh at the hoard of Lans all covering their ears with wide, annoyed eyes turned to Jingyi who sat with red cheeks as if that wasn’t what he intended. They all knew it was.

“Perfect! That’ll startle anything,” Wei Wuxian praised, leaning forward to scribble notes for grading later. Jingyi smiled, any embarrassment gone away to make room for pride as he went to sit back beside Sizhui.

It’d taken awhile to get Lan Qiren to let him teach for real. Weeks of having him shadow every single thing Wei Wuxian did around the littlest juniors, constant grunts of disapproval, a whole separate sheet for grading Wei Wuxian that he would bring to his attention over tea every evening. But, honestly, he didn’t mind it too much. After everything, it felt somewhat normal. Besides, he was sure Lan Qiren liked him a bit more by the time he willingly handed over a few classes.

Convincing him of this class specifically, though, was a bit tougher and had to be discussed with all of the Lan Elders in a very formal meeting that required Wei Wuxian to break out his single set of white robes. They’d waited until Lan Wangji was off on a night hunt, getting rid of his unrelentingly protective gaze before bringing Wei Wuxian in to discuss giving the older disciples lessons on creating new things so they’d be better equipped to come up with something if they ever got stuck‒or at least that’s how he sold it. The minimum age they’d agreed on was the group that were done with all other sit-down classes and tended to be the main ones going on night hunts which was fair enough. It meant he got to spend more time with Lan Sizhui and he’d never complain about that.

“Alright, who’s next?”

Before anyone could even respond, the doors to the lanshi burst open. Lan Wangji stood in the doorway, tall and regal and intimidating and every bit Hanguang-Jun. Wei Wuxian felt his heart flutter childishly in his chest as if that wasn’t his husband. Husband. Ah, wasn’t that incredible?

The juniors’ eyes followed Lan Wangji as he basically glided down the walkway. Wei Wuxian smiled as he came near despite the rigid set to his features. He knew he had some important‒which typically translated to annoying‒business today. 

“Have you come to learn on your break, Hanguang-Jun?” Wei Wuxian teased. Somehow, though, the crease between his eyebrows deepened and worry pricked at Wei Wuxian. Was he angry with him for some reason?

Lan Wangji walked up to the teacher’s platform and to the side of his desk before kneeling on the ground. Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened as Lan Wangji bowed his head into his lap before adjusting himself. And there he was, the great Hanguang-Jun, laying on the floor with his face buried in his husband’s stomach and his arms wrapped around his torso. Wei Wuxian wondered if Lan Wangji could feel how hard his heart was beating.

Considering this was rather unprecedented, Wei Wuxian dumbly looked up at the juniors to guard their reactions. All of them with one exception were looking anywhere in the room other than the scene on the platform. Wei Wuxian locked eyes with Lan Sizhui‒who, for once, didn’t seem too flustered by such a bold display‒and watched as he gave a curt little nod. He wasn’t sure what he was nodding about, but he assumed it was a subtle way of saying to just let it happen. As if he needed approval to do that.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said softly, resting his hand on his husband’s cheek. He used his thumb to smooth out his already perfect eyebrows and couldn’t help his smile as Lan Wangji visibly relaxed a little. His eyes stayed closed and he looked every bit like the jade everyone said he was. “Alright. Sleep well.”

Wei Wuxian looked back up, his hands sliding to cradle the back of Lan Wangji’s head against his stomach. 

“Anyone got a quieter one to try next?”

-

Lan Wangji stayed put for the entire length of his break before silently getting up and walking back out.

His class was nearly over at this point, but it was clear everyone had questions that he couldn’t answer. Their Hanguang-Jun had definitely changed and gotten more bold since Wei Wuxian came to live in the Cloud Recesses, but not like that. That was… Well, there was something wrong, to say the least. Even if it was sweet to just have him lay there for at least four incense sticks worth of time. He would have to ask him once they got back to the jingshi.

“You all did great today. For next week, how about something inspired by the word ‘heat’,” Wei Wuxian said. 

“Wei-qianbei, don’t we already have at least a few different existing talismans for that?” Lan Huizhong asked. He grinned as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Looks like you’ll have to think quite hard to come up with something, hm?” he said. Lan Huizhong smiled just a little bit‒no excessive smiling and all‒and bowed.

Wei Wuxian gathered his things and started to walk out of the lanshi. He was going to drop these off at the jingshi and then he planned to slip in on one of Lan Xichen’s sword forms classes. He did that relatively often and could feel the way that was slowly but surely helping to build Mo Xuanyu’s core. If he played it off like he was just there because he was bored, no one needed to call him out on it.

“Wei-qianbei, may this disciple speak with you for a moment?” Lan Sizhui called. Wei Wuxian grinned as he spun to see him, though stopped himself from teasing him about the formal way he called him when he saw the serious set of his features. It seemed everyone was very serious today.

“You don’t even need to ask,” he said. Lan Sizhui looked around to make sure they were alone and still took a step closer. He was breaking some rule, Wei Wuxian thought‒impropriety, personal space, secrecy, something. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s Hanguang-Jun,” he said softly. Wei Wuxian was very interested at this point and stepped even closer. “He is… melancholy.”

Wei Wuxian searched his face as he slowly repeated, “Melancholy?”

That didn’t sound right. Lan Wangji had made him tea this morning and shared his spiritual energy. Lan Wangji had smiled when Wei Wuxian had braided his hair the night before and had smiled before he bedded him. Lan Wangji had shared a bath with him, had washed his hair, had done many, many things for him as he did every day. That didn’t seem melancholy.

“Forgive this disciple’s forwardness,” Sizhui said, though he didn’t sound like he was sorry. He sounded, Wei Wuxian thought with untimely fondness, like the man who raised him. “This humble one does not mean to insinuate that Wei-qianbei does not know his husband well. Wei-qianbei is attentive and thoughtful, that is obvious. But… Xian-gege, for all that you may know him and see him and spend time with him, I know him better than anyone.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t even be hurt by that statement. It was the truth that Lan Sizhui had probably spent more time with Lan Wangji than anyone else in the world, perhaps even rivalling Zewu-Jun at this point. Lan Wangji had admitted in the dark of one night that he’d spent many years paranoid that people would find out his A-Yuan was a Wen and that they’d go after him, so he kept him out of the dormitories until he was nearly fourteen and even then made a point to watch over him as often as he could just in case. Of course he knew him well.

“He’s always been… sad, I suppose, but some days are worse than others. Sometimes he can seem happy and other days it’s…” Lan Sizhui trailed off, looking to the side and swallowing. Wei Wuxian’s stomach twisted in his gut. “He’s been very well since you got back, but today is one of those… other days. Zewu-Jun and I handled it in the past, but now it’s sort of your duty as his husband, isn’t it?”

“Yes, A-Yuan, I think it is,” Wei Wuxian agreed. Sizhui’s shoulders relaxed a bit and that familiar smile found his lips.

“If you need help, just ask. It isn’t something you can fix completely, it’s more of making sure he doesn’t feel worse and alone. I think he’d appreciate your company. He did come to you,” Lan Sizhui said. Wei Wuxian nodded and tried to smile through the guilt in his stomach. How blind he’d been to his husband’s feelings.

“He did. I’ll do my best, thank you,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Xian-gege,” Sizhui said before he could walk too far away, reaching out to grab his arm, “It really isn’t your fault, it’s no one’s fault. It just… is.”

“It is a bit my fault,” Wei Wuxian suggested, laughing softly to try to make the guilt sound less, well, guilty, “I didn’t see it before.”

“How could you see something you weren’t looking for, though?” Lan Sizhui said, “And, really, he has been much happier since you came back.”

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian said, trying his best to get rid of the guilt. There was no place for that when he needed to just take care of his husband in the way he took care of him. “We’ll have tea tomorrow, all three of us.”

Lan Sizhui smiled and nodded, “I’d like that.”

-

Wei Wuxian had to convince himself to not skip Zewu-Jun’s sword forms class. Lan Wangji still had meetings and Wei Wuxian would be helping no one by pacing around the jingshi for hours. Besides, he would still need his strength, wouldn’t he?

His mind, however, wasn’t all there as he thought about Lan Wangji and started dissecting every moment to see what he’d missed. This morning when it took him longer than usual to get out of bed, was that a sign and something he would need to look for? That distraction, however, led to a small, eight year old Lan accidentally nicking Wei Wuxian’s cheek with his sword. It wasn’t even enough to bleed, but Young Lans crying in guilt was not a part of the agenda and class ended early.

That left Wei Wuxian to go back to the jingshi and wait for Lan Wangji to be done for the day so he could do his best to make up for all the times he’d had Lan Wangji coddle him when he was the one who needed to be coddled. He prepared a bath, talismans on it to keep it warm, and stripped to nothing but his underrobe. After letting his hair down entirely, Wei Wuxian decided to meditate. He hated it, but it passed the time while also helping his core, so he settled in.

It was easy to slip out of it the moment Lan Wangji walked in, eyes visibly tired and shoulders rigid. Wei Wuxian rose to his feet and met him near the door, conjuring an easy grin.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he said softly, reaching up to hold his face in his hands. Wei Wuxian didn’t even need to pull him down, Lan Wangji’s body moved towards him as he wrapped him up into a hug. He had to stand on his toes, but he didn’t mind. “Your husband already drew you a bath. Come, let me bathe you, hm?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji hummed. Wei Wuxian smiled and left a kiss on his shoulder before beginning to tug him behind the privacy screen.

Wei Wuxian reached up to remove his forehead ribbon first and folded it neatly to get it out of the way. His hands worked to strip him of his layers and it was hard not to see how much he was putting in to seem like he wasn’t struggling. That crease between his brow, the way his entire body was full of tension, the way he looked exhausted. How hadn’t he noticed before?

“My Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathed, leaving a soft kiss to his chest as he rid him of his last layer, “My love.”

He got rid of his own last layer and got in the bath first before ushering him in. Lan Wangji got in without even one playful look and laid against Wei Wuxian’s chest without any convincing. He sunk into the water up to his chin, his knees poking above the surface in response. Wei Wuxian didn’t know what else to do other than wrap his arms around him and bathe him slowly.

He thought of Sizhui’s words, how there wasn’t anything to actually do. Just make sure he didn’t feel worse or alone. Though Wei Wuxian could remember‒albeit faintly‒times when he’d felt very lonely despite being surrounded by people. He wasn’t sure his presence alone would be helpful.

“Let me hold you tonight,” Wei Wuxian told him, rubbing his hands over his chest, “Is that something you would like?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji hummed. Not even a ‘whatever Wei Ying likes’. Wei Wuxian raked his fingers through his hair. 

Wei Wuxian worked at his body slowly. He didn’t have much spiritual energy to give him, but he tried his best to make up for it in rubbing at all the tense spots and paying extra attention to places Wei Wuxian knew he liked to be touched. The back of his neck, his arms, his hands, things that felt present.

They eventually decided to get out of the bath and move to bed. Lan Wangji seemed to be moving in slow motion as he got out of the bath. Wei Wuxian didn’t bother with drying him off with a cloth, instead making a talisman to dry them both.

“Did you eat anything, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asked as they both got dressed in night robes. Lan Wangji made a noise that translated to no. “Should I go get something from the kitchens?” Another ‘no’ noise. “Lan Wangji, you have to eat something.”

Then there were no noises.

Wei Wuxian looked over to his husband to see him staring at him, all that tension he’d tried to get out of his body filling him right back up like it’d never left. It seemed he’d done something wrong. Or, perhaps he’d always been doing something wrong if simply being an attentive husband set off alarm bells in Lan Wangji’s mind.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, what are you staring at?” Wei Wuxian asked, hoping to play it off as he sat in bed, “Am I not allowed to be responsible for once?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said and maybe Wei Wuxian was being a little bit more obvious than he thought.

With a sigh, Wei Wuxian patted the bed and Lan Wangji climbed in beside him. Wei Wuxian led his head to his chest and held him there for a moment while he thought of a way to say what he was thinking and not be insulting.

“Sizhui and I had a talk today,” Wei Wuxian told him, running his fingers through his hair slowly, “And he said that you were sad. He said that you were always sad. What kind of husband have I been if I haven’t noticed, ah?”

Lan Wangji had gone tense again, but he didn’t try to pull away. His fingers slipped over Wei Wuxian’s collarbone, careful as silk.

“Does it bother you?” Lan Wangji asked carefully. Wei Wuxian made a hurt noise, trying to keep the situation as light as he could.

“Aiya, Hanguang-Jun, how could you accuse me of such a thing? As if anything about you could bother me!” Wei Wuxian said, reaching out with his other arm to grab his thigh. He pulled Lan Wangji until he was all but cradled in his lap like a baby, regardless of how much bigger than Wei Wuxian he actually was.

“Wei Ying…”

“No,” Wei Wuxian said, sighing as he allowed himself to be a little serious. He rubbed his thumb in small circles against his husband’s thigh, still keeping him in his arms, “No, it doesn’t bother me. I… Obviously it isn’t the same, but I do understand the constant of it, I guess. Shijie was, for as long as I can remember, nearly always ill, some days worse than others. The way Sizhui explained it made it seem like that’s how it is for you, only… melancholy.”

“There is nothing left to mourn that is more powerful than Wei Ying breathing,” Lan Wangji said slowly, hesitantly, “And yet I still… It seems I forgot it was this way since the beginning.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, don’t let that make you worse, alright? I understand, I do! There is nothing worse than feeling bad when you have every reason to be happy, I understand,” Wei Ying said, trying his damnedest not to crawl out of his skin while saying that aloud. But Lan Zhan needed it. He was meant to make him feel less lonely, wasn’t he? “I do apologize for being so needy this morning. I didn’t realize.”

Lan Wangji shook his head. “No apologies.”

“Yes, but‒”

“Wei Ying will have whatever he desires.”

 “Ah, Lan Zhan, don’t say things like that, I might take advantage,” Wei Wuxian said warmly, nuzzling his nose into the top of his head, “But, truly, it’s alright. I’m here and I plan to annoy you for the rest of this life and probably a few more, so of course it doesn’t bother me. You may have to tell me sometimes if I don’t notice right away, but I will never mind it. I get to cuddle you during class and everything. Do you know what I would’ve done in my first life if you cuddled me in class? I would’ve fainted!”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji hummed. But his eyes had closed and he let his body relax a bit more in Wei Wuxian’s grip. 

Wei Wuxian smiled and traced his jaw with his thumb, pulling his legs a bit closer so he could cover him up with a blanket. If this is how bad days ended for the rest of their life, he wouldn’t mind.

“My cute little Hanguang-Jun, so small,” Wei Wuxian cooed, kissing the side of his face as he tucked the blanket around him. A smile pulled at Lan Wangji’s lips and although it didn’t stay, it still was worth everything. “Ah, you like that? Should I baby you more, my love? My A-Zhan, hm?”

It was easy to just hold him and cover him in kisses and cuddles without any expectation for him to say anything back or even smle if he didn’t want to. Wei Wuxian held him until he fell asleep and then held him a bit longer before he eventually had to slowly get up and find something to eat. There were some loquats in a bowl that were there for any late night snacking on Wei Wuxian’s part or just if he forgot to eat in the first place, so he sat and ate a few while staring where Lan Wangji laid the entire time. It wasn’t until he crawled back into bed that Wei Wuxian realized he no longer felt guilty.

It simply was and would be and Wei Wuxian was more than willing to take it in stride.

[bottomcasbigbang]

Here you can read all the stories of our second round and check out the artwork our participants have created! Thank you to everyone who was a part of this, be it as a writer, author, beta, reader, cheerleader or helping hand! Thank you so much everyone and we hope we’ll see you back for the next round! ♥

Without further ado, the BCBB 2019/2020 creations:

Wayward Sons by Substiel (Explicit, 29k)

Illustrated by bees0are0awesome

It's the year 1919 and the Wayward Sons are the most powerful criminal organization in the country. It's ruled by Dean Winchester who bares the Mark of Cain. A curse given to him when Mary Winchester made a deal with the Devil to save her dying son. Dean was always a cold blood killer who did everything for business, and he never let anyone into his heart. He didn't dare let himself get too close to someone. That was until the Roadhouse hired a new bartender.

Castiel always admired Dean from afar for helping the lower class have a voice. For some reason, the bartender knows how to get under Dean's skin. There was something different about him which led to the beginning of their newfound relationship. Two broken souls finding each other in the middle.

Archive Warning: Graphic Depiction of Violence

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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My Bloody Luck by TaymeeLove (Mature, 16k)

Illustrated by Kamicom

Castiel was a struggling actor who never had luck on his side in life or his relationships. He met with an accident and his life was never the same after. Will his luck in relationships turn around this time?

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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Metanoia by adestielable (Explicit, 24k)

Illustrated by Noavice

Castiel’s existence has been nothing but pain, humiliation, and degradation. He’s an omega in a world where omegas are objects for an alpha’s enjoyment.

After a brutal assault on his nineteenth birthday, Castiel began entering into beastie fights—matches where instead of people going head to head, bio and mechanically engineered beasts fight to the death. And in Castiel’s months of fights, he’s not lost once.

It’s after one of these fights where Castiel meets Dean, his supposed true mate. Castiel hates alphas, and has vowed never to let one into his life because all alphas do is inflict pain. Yet…Dean is different. And Castiel finds he can’t help being drawn to him.

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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Profound Kisses by BENKA79 (Explicit, 20k)

Illustrated by Gio (sketching-fox)

Dean knows he's screwed. He discovers he is in love with Castiel in Purgatory, and now he can't even have the angel in front of him, because he knows it's a one sided love. It’s Valentine's day and Dean tries very hard to hook up as always, but he can't get Cas out of his mind. So he drives back to the motel, drunk, and he finds Castiel trying to help him. Then, when Dean asks Castiel for some experimental kisses and the angel accepts, Dean starts a very dangerous game… finding in Castiel's kisses the most delicious experiences, but also, his own perdition. Will Castiel fall in love with him? Or will he stay emotionless as always?

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Sparks by DragonSgotenks (Explicit, 20k)

Illustrated by VampyRosa

Omega Cas meets Alpha Dean during one of the worst weeks of his life. Sparks fly when they realize they're truemates. But after a wild and intense night that ends with both of them sporting new mating bites, could a simple misunderstanding tear the new couple apart before they even have a chance to begin?

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Lesson Number 1: Monsters are Real by blueye22 (Explicit, 20k)

Illustrated by kuwlshadow

When Anael "Jo" Novak goes missing during a hike in the mountains with her boyfriend, worried brother, Castiel, goes in search of her. Castiel is surprised to receive the help of FBI agents, Dean and Sam. But what are they hiding?

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

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You At the End of the Rail by spnsmile (Explicit, 30k)

Illustrated by verobatto-angelxhunter

Dean receives a text message from a new human Cas telling him of his suspicion that angels have found him in Gas n Sip. Still filled with guilt for kicking the ex-angel out of the Bunker, Dean steps up to make it up to his friend. Worried, Dean concludes the ex-angel has to disappear for many days so he asks Cas where he wants to go.

Cas’ answer?

Trains.

Fucking trains.

Archive Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

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On Your Knees by raths_kitten (Explicit, 14k)

Illustrated by angeltortured

When Dean gets the assignment to follow the Fallen Angels on tour and write a feature article on them, he isn‘t their biggest fan. But that quickly changes when he hears them play live - and meets their charismatic lead singer Castiel in person.

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Just Like in the Movies by noxsoulmate (Explicit, 46k)

Illustrated by lotrspnfangirl

In a world where a new mark appears whenever you fall in love, Hollywood sweetheart, Castiel James, is known for his unblemished skin. Oh, he has the faint shadows of old crushes and childish infatuations, but no mark is that of something deep and true. No mark has ever stuck, no mark has ever become more than a hazy outline. Because Cas, well... Cas has never been in love.

The skin of bookshop owner Dean Winchester, however, tells another tale entirely. Dean loves freely, quickly, and deeply. He loves his family, he loves his friends, he still cares for his exes. While the first two don’t show on his skin, the latter do. All brushed over his body in various shapes and forms and colors. Of varying clarity. But even Dean has yet to get that one mark. That mark that sticks. The mark that is so deep, and so sharp, and so clear, it can only be that of a profound bond.

These two men share a common hope; a common desire. That one day, they might have a mark that means they have found a love that is as deep and true as love can be - just like in the movies.

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Granted by Andromache_42 (Explicit, 20k)

Illustrated by agusvedder

At forty-one, Dr. Castiel Novak is the proud recipient of a generous grant to fund his project on sustainability and urban farming from the Campbell Foundation, a small investing firm based out of Chicago. The night before he meets the award committee, lonely and pushed by his friend Balthazar, Castiel has the best sex of his life during a casual Grindr hook-up with “just-visiting” forty-seven-year-old Dean. Castiel’s life appears to be coming together, until he discovers that Dean is the head of the grant award committee. For the sake of professionalism, Castiel is willing to ignore the intense attraction between the two of them, but Dean turns out to be too tempting to resist.

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Finding Bigfoot by Desirae (Explicit, 22k)

Illustrated by Tamapochi

“Don’t be such a worrywart. It’s vacation time. Campfires, fishing, beer. What’s better than that?”

“Apparently a sasquatch sighting?” Castiel snarked, with an arched brow.

“Well, yeah. I mean, Sam’s a good substitute, but it’d be nice to see the real thing,” Dean grinned.

Finding Bigfoot wasn't exactly on the itinerary when Dean, Cas, and Sam planned their annual boys-only camping trip, but with his brother in a noticeable funk, Dean was prepared to do what he had to do. Even if it meant keeping quiet about a long-waited love confession from his best friend.

Determined to stay focused on distracting Sam from his troubles, and not make him feel like a third wheel, Dean and Castiel decide to keep their new relationship status to themselves, until after vacation is over.

After years of mutual pining, that shouldn’t be too hard, right?

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Meet me at Sunset by Suus_Arido (Mature, 55k)

Illustrated by celstese

Ever since the Barrier of Melaina fell and plunged the worlds of men, monsters and magic together, the Republic Elohim has kept its citizens save with help from the hunter organization the Red Circle.

Dean Winchester has never known how the world looked before the fall of the barrier. He and his family have been part of the Red Circle for generations and he knew it was his faith to die in battle. All he is supposed to want is to protect the innocents from darkness. But how can he when his soul is dark and corrupt?

As the monsters start to adapt and become more intelligent, the rise of chaos is not far behind. It’s midst this chaos that Dean meets a human with the name of an angel. Not only does this man believe in the salvation of the world but he also seems to believe that Dean is redeemable as well.

A love story may perhaps develop but Dean knows better, for it is known that the faith of a hunter is tragedy. Will Dean be able to make the right call? Even when blue eyes turn unrecognizable?

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

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Beyond Borders by xHaruka17x (Explicit, 53k)

Illustrated by Diminuel

Sometimes doing what is right, what feels right, doesn't mean you’ll escape the consequences of those actions. Dean Winchester is the Head Alpha of one of the largest packs of the Western Hemisphere. He is days away from being a married and mated Alpha, ready for the next chapter in his life to commence, only for a horrific accident to change everything. Adam, Dean and Sam's little brother, is killed in a car accident across the globe in Russia. Dean finds out his little brother's now widowed Omega is all alone and pregnant, left to the mercy of his horrible home pack. Dean makes a decision and he knows things will explode when he gets back home, but he knows in his heart it’s the right thing to do.

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The Cleric's Birthright by Scribo_Vivere (Explicit, 34k)

Illustrated by yoyo-deano

Castiel Novak lost his husband and the love of his life, Balthazar, three years ago in a slaying no one has been able to solve. Burying himself in his work at the university as a leading anthropology professor there, he attempts to put the past behind him. When vicious murders begin to plague him in an eerie replication of Balthazar’s death, Castiel decides to find out on his own what sort of evil has descended upon them all. But the answers he’s looking for may not be so easily found, and the revelation forced upon him could destroy everything he knows - about himself, his world, and the faith he once held so dear. Complicating things is his new relationship with Dean Winchester, who may or may not be what he appears. Why is Castiel inexplicably drawn to him like a moth to the flame?

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

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To Soar Without Grace by QuillsAndInk (Explicit)

Castiel is an alpha and a cleric serving the gods of his kingdom and wielding their power in preparation to join a holy war. When he gets taken by the heretical high prince of a rival kingdom, Castiel knows his fate is sealed. That is, until prince Dean tries to persuade him to take on a mad quest to kill his father and end the holy war. With heretical magic Castiel can’t understand forcing him away from the gods he’s always served, Castiel joins Dean. But in the mountain wilderness in the dead of winter with only his sworn enemy for company, can Dean and Castiel get past their differences or will the war swallow them up.

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

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Cow Bells and Snow Globes by Pimento (Explicit)

It really doesn't matter what the gossip columns say. Dean knows the International Ski Champion Castiel Novak, aka, Casanova of the Slopes is actually just Cas. Loyal, kind, caring Cas. The same Cas he's absolutely not had a crush on since they were teenagers on the competitive circuit.

He's had two plus decade's practice at hiding his feelings, how difficult can it be to suppress them a little longer.

They just so happen to be in the same ski resort, at the same time for an entire season, so Dean is damn well gonna enjoy having his friend back in his life for a while and not screw it up. The fact that he seems to have the magic touch with the grumpy teenage daughter that Cas is trying so desperately to reconnect with is just an opportunity to ease his friends' troubles while he finds his feet again.

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[karumashadowchicken]

Dabi (the connection) a writing piece I did in class...

-The Connection To Dabi, Toya Todoroki-

Pt. One ( Dabi-toya Todoroki)

Dabi is a fairly tall villain, currently around 23-24. He is pale, and skinny. He had spiky white hair, that is currently dyed black. He had thin eyes, that are turquoise and heavily lidded. He has patches of purple, scared, skin that are stapled to his body. The patches are under his eyes, somewhat like eye bags, with a few staples holding the skin from ripping off his face. He has three nose piercings on one side. From his smile, mouth to ears, and down to the top of his chest are also purple and scared. Down his arms, stopping below his knuckles are also scared, also stapled to his skin. He also has a super power called a quirk, his is unofficially called cremation. It’s called cremation because of its extreme heat, caused by blue fire. His quirk uses his skin as fuel and that's what caused his scaring. He has several piercings on both ears around the top. He also wears a black jacket, with a tall ripped collar. The jacket has stitched patterns around the shoulders, and is made especially for him. Meaning his clothing is fire prof. The sleeves are also black and and about his elbows with thick grey rings. He wears a simple white shirt underneath said jacket. His pants are also black and tight, but still moveable and breathable. He also wears black boots that end half way up the calf of his legs. He also wears a grey and white belt with grey metal flats and spikes on them.

Pt. Two (The Past)

Dabi grew up under the famous flame hero Endeavour. Endeavour-Enji Todoroki-Is Dabi’s father. Enji convinced Rei to marry him, in a quirk marriage. Enji had fire, and Rei had ice, which could create the ultimate hero, and child. Dabi was the first attempt at the perfect child, he was born with Blue Fire. his quirk was very strong, but used his skin as fuel, and scared him badly. When Endeavour saw Dabi as not good enough he tried again. Then there was fuyumi. Fuyumi was the first daughter and second oldest, but also not good enough. Next was natsuo, he was the second youngest, sadly he was also a failed experiment. The final child was Shoto Todoroki. Shoto was perfectly split, half fire, and half ice. Shoto never got to really know his siblings, as he was forced to train 24/7, and was almost never given a break. While Shoto was being abused, and forced to train, dabi was simply tossed aside. Dabi, Fuyumi, and Natsuo were more friends than siblings. They probably would have grown closer if Dabi-Toya- hadn't ‘died’ in a fire that Enji himself had caused. Enji was blamed for his ‘death’. In reality Dabi was still alive and fine, well not exactly. He ended up hiding his true identity and becoming a villain. It wasn't long from them before he started to build a name for himself. He soon after caught the eye of Shigaraki tomura- Tenko shimura- who was the leader of the league of villains. Shigaraki was able to convince Dabi to join him, and so he did. Dabi also found ideals, in the name of stain. Growing a strong dislike for false heroes like his own father. Dabi over the years planned something grand. Dabi now being around 23 found it time to reveal the truth.Pt. Three (The Reveal)

Dabi had revealed himself on live television. Telling the world what Endeavour had done to them while he had been blurring the lines between himself and Endeavour. Enji had spent his entire life blurring the line between himself and endeavour, and now the world couldn't believe what they were hearing. The reason that Dabi had finally revealed the truth to the world was Endeavour's current and new place, as the Number One Hero. Most people were in disbelief, and didn't believe him. Others already knew of the abuse that had taken place.

Dabi was preparing to kill his Father, and something unknown to Shoto, as Dabi said he had a surprise of Shoto. It was said that the league themselves weren’t even aware of dabi’s identity.

Pt. Four (The Relatable)

-Dabi has an abusive Father, who has claimed to be the good guy, who’s fixing past mistakes.

-dabi was thrown aside or forgotten by most-all.

-Dabi hasn't seen his own siblings and family in many years as he was assumed dead when he was 14.

-He can’t be recognized as himself, he also lives in the shadows, and most people who know him don’t like him for his villainous, and murderous side.

-his parents didn't have much emotional support to offer to Dabi-Toya or his siblings.

-His Father is a bad person, and his Mother is kind and easy to take advantage of, Rei-his mother.

-He had expectations placed on him that were almost impossible to be met.

-he ended up emotionally cut off and drained of almost any empathy he had or has left.

-He has a hatred for his Father, for good reason.

-He was given up on when his parents realized he couldn't make their dreams come true.

Pt. Five ( The Reason )

Endeavour's reason for all of the abuse was simply to reach his goal of creating the perfect child, and the perfect hero. After many failed attempts at creating the perfect child, he had Shoto, who was what he had wanted. He had tossed the others aside, leaving them by themselves. He didn't even acknowledge his own children. Toya was left behind, and presumed dead, after a training section of sorts where his father had presumably caused his death. Enji is a selfish man, who didn't deserve to have the title of a hero. That's when Endeavour was raised to number one hero-after All Mights retirement-where Dabi decided that it was time.

Pt. Six ( The Relations )

When Dabi was presumed dead he left behind his family and all his relationships he might have had. Enji: Dabi had an extreme dislike for his father Enji and is even planning to be the end of him. Rei: Dabi somewhat blames his Mother for what happened to him. He doesn’t seem to hate her as much, but had blamed her for his problems. Although she cares greatly for him, and his death affected her sanity, Dabi doesn’t seem to feel the same way about her. Shoto: Dabi feels quite hostile towards Shoto. Dabi mockings and even pities Shoto, as seen by his actions. Dabi seems to dislike Shoto, as he had everything that Dabi didn't, causing Dabi to grow to hate Shoto. Fuyumi: Fuyumi and Dabi had a bit of a bond, but Dabi looked down on her and his Mother Rei for not wanting to be heroes. Rei feels sad towards Dabi, and Dabi seems to have nothing really against her, although he seems to look down on her. Natsuo: Natsuo and Dabi were extremely close as children, although Dabi and him seem to be on okay terms. Natsuo reacted disappointedly like Fuyumi when he found Toya was behind the killings, crimes and mass murders.Pt. Seven (The Current Relations)

Dabi has now joined the league of villains and has a few relations that i would like to mention. Shigaraki: Dabi respects Shigaraki but doesn’t seem to care about him, and is perfectly fine with insulting him. Spinner: I can’t imagine that Dabi likes Spinner, as Dabi takes every opportunity he gets to make rude remarks and mock him. Mr.Compress: Dabi doesn’t seem to mind Mr.Compress, they actually work quite well as a team. They have worked together successfully a few times. Hawks (who is a ‘Hero’): DAbi was distrustful towards hawks at first, as they had actually grown up together. Although once hawks had killed Twice-ruining part of Dabi’s plan-Dabi grows to hate the winged hero Hawks. Stain: Dabi seems to look up to Stains ideology, or at least be inspired by it. Dabi does disagree with Stain on one thing, instead of there being rare true heroes, Dabi believes that there is no such thing as a true hero.

Pt. Eight (The Extra Info)

Real Name: Toya/Toya Todoroki.

Alias: Dabi / Blue-flame.

Birthday: January 18th.

Age: 23-24.

Gender: Male.

Height: 176 cm, (5'9¼").

Hair Colour: White, dyed black.

Eye Colour: TurQuoise.

Quirk: Cremation.

Status: Alive, on the outside.

Family: Enji, Rei, natsuo, Fuyumi, Shoto.

Occupation: Villain.

Affiliation: League of villains.

Teams: Violet regiment.

Fighting Style: long-ranged combat.

Pt. Nine (The Words)

1.“You’re so weak… you couldn't even stop a criminal organization from abducting your students.” 2. “First thing we have to do is take away their sense of peace.” 3. “I’ve seen you in pictures, but I gotta say your way grosser in person.” 4. “Is it because your students are so precious? Hope you got what it takes to protect them…” 5. If you’re trash, then at least burn and be kindling for my flames.” 6. “This will just be a single fire. We’ll fill those heroes full of holes… and put them in their place, or a brighter future.”

Pt. Ten (The Personality)

Dabi’s personality is rude, and argumentative. He doesn’t mind insulting people and putting them in their place. He has almost no sense of respect, and it is rude, and self serving. Although he is not as cruel and sadistic as you’d think, he’s out for justice. He is also a calm-minded person who is determined to finish assigned tasks.

Pt. Eleven ( The Within )

Dabi’s the broken product of what he had sworn to erase. He’s a man made completely of flaws stitched together, he’s simply Patch-Work. He’s a used and thrown away object, only used by the people who need him for their own personal gain.

Pt. Twelve ( The Goal )

Does Dabi have a good point about society? Dabi has a good point about society, just like Stain ( Chizome Akaguro ). Dabi and Stain have the samebeliefs, meaning that they were originally Stains ideals. First, Dabi believes that people are fooled by the fake facade of popularity. Meaning that the people who are popular and/ or seen as ‘Heroes’ then they can get away with things that people shouldn't. For example, Dabi hates the ‘Hero’ Endeavour. Endeavour is seen as a Hero, even though he is the farthest thing from a Hero. People refuse to see the truth, even when it’s the clear truth. Second of all, Dabi believes that people should not do good things for money, for example Mt. Lady. Mt. Lady is a ‘Hero’ who uses her body to get free things and popularity. She is a False Hero, giving false expectations for women and female Heros. Third of all, Dabi believes that there is NO such thing as a True Hero. I believe he is right, because Endeavour abused his wife and kids, Mt. Lady uses her body for money making unrealistic expectations for women, Hawks murders people, All Might helps kids go ‘Plus Ultra’ and completely disregards their personal safety. In conclusion, I believe that Dabi is right for many reasons. He makes good points, and even has facts to prove his points. He may be an extremist, but he is doing it for the good of society! Dabi, and Stain are good examples of people sacrificing their Heros.

Pt. Thirteen ( The Accusations )

First, Dabi is right in believing that true 'Heroes' don't exist. Because people only want money or fame. Second, Dabi is right in following Stains ways, because Stain has shown his valid points. Third, Dabi is right because he grew up beside the Number 2 'Hero' Endeavour. Dabi can say first-hand that Endeavour is far from being a 'Hero', let alone a good person. In conclusion Dabi is right about society, he has a valid and correct point of view, and even though he is an extremist he is right.

True 'Heroes' Don't Exist Because People Only Want Money and Fame.

First off, Dabi has a point about Hero's only want for fame. For example, Mt.Lady caused a lot of collateral damage by stealing a villain take down, so she would look better. She also used her looks to get free food from venders, and other places. My second point is Endeavour. Endeavour had abused his son into being a 'Hero'. Endeavour had also almost killed one of his sons in a fiery battle for no reason. Luckily that son survived, but they thought he had died. He is now the villain, known as Dabi. My third point is Hawks. Hawks is a 'Hero' who has killed many. He is a double agent, and a spy. He 'killed' the Best Jeanist and Twice. Though as stands currently it was revealed that the Best Jeanist is in fact alive and well. Though Hawks had still killed Twice, a mentally unstable villain. In conclusion, 'Heros' only want money and fame, no matter the price. Even if the price is abusing your family, or committing murder, using your body to get what you want, or committing crimes. These 'Heros' don't care. I mean, they really said " whatever it takes''. First off, Dabi has a point about Hero's only want for fame. For example, Mt.Lady caused a lot of collateral damage by stealing a villain take down, so she would look better. She also used her looks to get free food from venders, and other places. My second point is Endeavour. Endeavour had abused his son into being a 'Hero'. Endeavour had also almost killed one of his sons in a fiery battle for no reason. Luckily that son survived, but they thought he had died. He is now the villain, known as Dabi. My third point is Hawks. Hawks is a 'Hero' who has killed many. He is a double agent, and a spy. He 'killed' the Best Jeanist and Twice. Though as stands currently it was revealed that the Best Jeanist is in fact alive and well. Though Hawks had still killed Twice, a mentally unstable villain. In conclusion, 'Heros' only want money and fame, no matter the price. Even if the price is abusing your family, or committing murder, using your body to get what you want, or committing crimes. These 'Heros' don't care. I mean, they really said " whatever it takes''.

Dabi is in the right, to follow Stain’s ( Chizome Akaguro) ways. Stain is right about the Hero society, which he proves to a few people. Stain has 3 main valid points ; that he believes in. First off, people do often use popularity to get what they want, like money or power. People often use their Hero facades to fool society into believing that they could never do anything wrong. Stains second point is that some Heroes aren’t actually Heros. For example, Endeavour, the number 2 Hero ( currently number 1 Hero, like avoiding spoilers ). Endeavour ( Enji Todoroki ), abused his children, and wife, trying to create the perfect Hero. Endeavour also says he doesn't care about anyone except for himself and Shoto Todoroki ( His Son, which he abused ). Stain’s third point is revaved around ‘True Heros’ not commiting murder. The Winged Hero Hawks had committed several murders, which Stain says isn't very heroic. Hawks is also a double agent, but he had comited murder. Hawks didn't kill a villain either, he did kill Twice. Although Hawks also faked the death of Pro Hero, Best Jeanist. I would also like to say that even Dabi’s big boss, Shigaraki Tomura ( Tenko Shimura ) also wanted to be a Hero when he was younger. Although they never were able to, considering that Shigaraki killed his family ( who basically abused him too ). In conclusion, it is rather valid that he follow Stain’s ways.

Dabi had a great reason to hate ‘Heros’. First off, he grew up the son of the number 2 ‘Hero’ Endeavour. Although sadly Dabi died in a fire his Father caused, (He didn't really die, they just couldn't find the body ). Endeavour not only caused his sons ‘death’ but also verbally, and physically abused him. He was isolated from his siblings and constantly told that he wasn't good enough. Second, Dabi had a rough childhood. Patchwork, ( Dabi ) is now a villain. Dabi had witnessed his Father beat his Mother, his siblings, and himself. Third of all Dabi revealed himself to be Toya Todoroki, Endeavour's son. He publicly shamed his father from screen to screen. Dabi had shown the world what Enji had done to blur the line between Enji and Endeavour. Fourth point would be about Enji and why he abused his family for years, forcing his wife into a forced marriage.First off, Dabi has a point about Hero's only want for fame. For example, Mt.Lady caused a lot of collateral damage by stealing a villain take down, so she would look better. She also used her looks to get free food from venders, and other places. My second point is Endeavour. Endeavour had abused his son into being a 'Hero'. Endeavour had also almost killed one of his sons in a fiery battle for no reason. Luckily that son survived, but they thought he had died. He is now the villain, known as Dabi. My third point is Hawks. Hawks is a 'Hero' who has killed many. He is a double agent, and a spy. He 'killed' the Best Jeanist and Twice. Though as stands currently it was revealed that the Best Jeanist is in fact alive and well. Though Hawks had still killed Twice, a mentally unstable villain. In conclusion, 'Heros' only want money and fame, no matter the price. Even if the price is abusing your family, or committing murder, using your body to get what you want, or committing crimes. These 'Heros' don't care. I mean, they really said " whatever it takes''.

Dabi is in the right, to follow Stain’s ( Chizome Akaguro) ways. Stain is right about the Hero society, which he proves to a few people. Stain has 3 main valid points ; that he believes in. First off, people do often use popularity to get what they want, like money or power. People often use their Hero facades to fool society into believing that they could never do anything wrong. Stains second point is that some Heroes aren’t actually Heros. For example, Endeavour, the number 2 Hero ( currently number 1 Hero, like avoiding spoilers ). Endeavour ( Enji Todoroki ), abused his children, and wife, trying to create the perfect Hero. Endeavour also says he doesn't care about anyone except for himself and Shoto Todoroki ( His Son, which he abused ). Stain’s third point is revaved around ‘True Heros’ not commiting murder. The Winged Hero Hawks had committed several murders, which Stain says isn't very heroic. Hawks is also a double agent, but he had comited murder. Hawks didn't kill a villain either, he did kill Twice. Although Hawks also faked the death of Pro Hero, Best Jeanist. I would also like to say that even Dabi’s big boss, Shigaraki Tomura ( Tenko Shimura ) also wanted to be a Hero when he was younger. Although they never were able to, considering that Shigaraki killed his family ( who basically abused him too ). In conclusion, it is rather valid that he follow Stain’s ways.

Dabi had a great reason to hate ‘Heros’. First off, he grew up the son of the number 2 ‘Hero’ Endeavour. Although sadly Dabi died in a fire his Father caused, (He didn't really die, they just couldn't find the body ). Endeavour not only caused his sons ‘death’ but also verbally, and physically abused him. He was isolated from his siblings and constantly told that he wasn't good enough. Second, Dabi had a rough childhood. Patchwork, ( Dabi ) is now a villain. Dabi had witnessed his Father beat his Mother, his siblings, and himself. Third of all Dabi revealed himself to be Toya Todoroki, Endeavour's son. He publicly shamed his father from screen to screen. Dabi had shown the world what Enji had done to blur the line between Enji and Endeavour. Fourth point would be about Enji and why he abused his family for years, forcing his wife into a forced marriage. In conclusion, Dabi has a point, heroes risk their lives for money or fame, leaving no place for a true hero. Stain maybe an extremist with very idealistic opinions, but you must admit that he has a point. Not to mention that some heroes secretly commit crimes like human trafficking because people wouldn't suspect a ‘Hero’ of that kind of thing. Not only is Endeavour not a Hero, and his wife and kids hate him, but he got away with his doings too. Endeavour is living scotch free of his mistakes, and only claimed to start to become a better person when Shoto started ignoring him. In conclusion, Dabi had every right to be mad at society.

Pt. Fourteen ( The Feelings )

Dabi is not just some anime character to me. I find Dabi like the personification of my life. I find Dabi is often in my dreams, and he even helps me understand my feelings and needs. I’m going to try my best to explain how. It all started before last year. I had just started watching a few of the My Hero episodes on crunchyroll, an anime website. I had first started rooting for the main characters and the Heros. Finding that all of the heroes seemed to be strong, brave, and well, Heroes. Although I was quickly introduced to Shoto Todoroki’s background story. Shoto ( Dabi’s Brother ) had to deal with a lot of abuse from his Father, and that's when I started to like the character Shoto more. I drew a lot of pictures of Shoto, and found that he was surprisingly relatable, in a sad way. It was not long before I was introduced to the fan theory of Dabi being a Todoroki. It was almost clear that he was going to be a Todoroki. It was revealed, not that long ago, that Dabi is in fact Toya Todoroki. Toya Todoroki is the older brother of Shoto, Natsu and Fyumi, who they thought had died in a fire. I had seen Dabi in my dreams before then once or twice. I can clearly remember one where I was sitting with Dabi, we were simply talking. I remember the conversations started as him being threatening and a complete jerk. Well, actually in the first dream there was blue fire as he tried to burn me. The second dream was our first talk, where we had talked about casual things, although he seemed rather angry or annoyed at least. I often found myself relating to him in ways that I couldn't create with words. Dabi, was a forgotten and isolated child who had been thrown out by his abusive Father. The same Father who claimed to love him. The same Father who claims tofeel guilt for the mistakes they have made, only to repeat those same mistakes only days later. I found myself seeing Dabi in my dreams more and more often. The next dream I had was blurry, like a missing memory. I found myself talking to Dabi, again. We sat, somewhere, and simply talked. I remember looking at my feet, and not seeing him, but somehow knowing that it was him. I talked and he listened, Dabi’s voice was rough and somewhat dry. “It’s okay to miss people.” He never said much, but it always seemed like my conscious was talking to me. Dabi was seen in dream after dream after that. I’d find him in the background, or maybe as a store owner. It was almost like he was stalking me in my dreams, although I never seemed to be bothered by it. He always seemed to have good advice to tell me. I remember one time I had asked him if he had missed his siblings. I remember when I first felt that connection, when he said, “It’s okay if you miss them. I miss mine, but I chose the path I did.” Dabi is a psychopathic murderer, who had killed many with his blue flames. He was always something I could rely on, he was almost a comfort character to me. Found myself hating Endeavour, his Father, soon after. I despise the false ‘Hero’ Endeavour, as he is not a Hero. You can’t expect to abuse your wife and children and still expect people to like you, expect your family to just forgive you. I find myself blurring the lines between my own Father and Endeavour. I found that when I looked at my Father, I saw trases of Endeavour. Maybe it was because they had the same nature, or maybe it was something completely different. I know that I could relate to dabi. I saw this one scene of young Toya and Shoto hiding in the closet, away from his own Father. It reminded me of when my younger Brother and I would visit my Father and hide in the closet to avoid the yelling. Mother doesn’t like talking about the past, and the things my Father had done. I know when I was younger I used to run to the neighbors and bag for them to let me in. I used to hate being alone with my Father, and I still do. I know that Dabi, and Shoto had a similar childhood, if you could even call it that. Honestly, the living room never felt like a living room. Enji Todoroki is someone that I hate, but I don’t at the same time. I find

myself wanting to forgive Endeavour. I know that, that means my inner conscious what's to forgive my Father, but I can’t. I still watch him make his own Mother cry, and on Christmas he told his own Father to drop dead. Honestly I know how it feels when Dabi or Shoto say that they don’t want to be like their own Father. I know that this is not just a paragraph but I didn't wanna give you some dolled up answer. Pt. Fifteen ( Explanation )

Honestly I feel connected to him. Is it sad to say that if I had a spirit animal it would be a 21-24 year old criminal who’s scared physically and emotionally? That sometimes I find myself believing the words of a fictional character, who's considered forgotten and a failure’s words are something I believe every word of. That I’ve never wanted to watch my own father fall into a world of hell until I reached the point of admiration for a villain? I look up to Dabi. Even though he’s a psychopath, a villain, and a murderer. I still find peace in him. He is my comfort character, which is something I’ve realized lately. I know that most people think that he is cute, or some cool villain that they wish was real so they could date him. Not me-I’m not one of those people. Dabi is like my consciousness, he’s like the voice in my head, the embodiment of my mind, me in another world. I would write forever, tell you everything on my mind, how Dabi is the character who I could identify with, but I'm not going to. Honestly I wish I could explain that he, a man internally made of flaws stitched together, is my comfort character. I remember when I realized that dabi is something I find in my head. When I read about him sneaking through crowds, avoiding people like the plague. When I see that he's only in with the ones seen as the bad guys, when I see that he’s either sad or insane and nothing else. Sometimes when I see him, I see myself. When I look in the mirror I wonder why the bags under my eyes look like the scars under Baby's eyes. I wonder when I grow up, what will I be? Will I end up like my Father, or maybe like my Mother? I feel bad knowing that Dabi lives the life that I’d be living if I was an anime character. I don’t know, I don’t have that kind of passion or conviction. Have you read that before? Passion and conviction, you’ve read it in my writing before huh? It’s from a quote, a quote from Stain The Hero killer. The person who Dabi looks up to, the person who Spinner looks up to, and a person who I look up too. Dabi had one person who he’s close with, his name is Jin/Twice. Jin is a mentaly unstable psychopath who is 31 years old. Twice, when I break down on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night, the voices in my head, they remind me of twice. Although I feel a connection to him, it’s not the same as Dabi. Dabi is my embodiment of my emotions. Twice, is the person in my mind. The person who I'd think similarly too. I think I’m reaching a point of too many words. Filtered thoughts, that’s what you hear from me. That’s all I have to say, well that’s a lie. I have a lot more to say, but for now, I think that I’ve written enough.

[skye-maxwell]

Mostly You

Persona 4 | Souyo | Third year, pre-relationship | Rated F for Fluff

Happy birthday, @livefreeordie13! You are my friend, and I like you a lot! \o/

For prompt #6: “I think about you all the time.”

---

It was Yosuke’s turn to call him today, so Souji sat on the floor of his bedroom, patiently folding paper cranes while he waited. 

They had spoken to each other on the phone nearly every day since Souji had left Inaba, and Souji was grateful that Yosuke always seemed eager to hear from him. Even if it was just a quick call after school on his way to Junes, or while he was drifting off to sleep after a long day—Yosuke made time for Souji, and that meant the world to him.

The ringtone Souji had specifically assigned to Yosuke started playing, and Souji smiled, like he always did. It was a song Yosuke had shared with him to cheer him up when things had been at their worst, and now Souji knew every word and every note of the track. 

“Hey, Yosuke,” Souji greeted warmly, putting his phone on speaker and setting it on his desk so he could keep folding. 

“Hey, Partner!” Yosuke said happily, and Souji smiled again. He would never get tired of that enthusiasm. “What are you up to?” 

“Cranes.”

“Haha, again? Are you trying to set a world record for ‘most paper cranes folded’ or something?” 

“No, but now that you say that, it sounds pretty good. I think that’ll be my goal now.” 

Instead of dismissing the joke like Souji expected him to, Yosuke said, “Well, if anyone can do it, it’s you. I believe in you, Partner!” 

“Thank you,” Souji said dumbly, becoming flustered for a moment before he could think of a better reply. “If I do break the record, you’ll be the first one I invite to the party.”

“The party?” 

“Yeah, to celebrate my success.” 

“Oh man, a party thrown by you? I can see it now. It’s gonna be a total rager,” Yosuke laughed.   

“Of course. It’ll be the most enraged of ragers.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” 

“Honestly, it would probably just end up being you and me sitting in a room drinking something like, not even alcoholic, and we would try to clink our glasses together and probably spill lemonade everywhere—”

“When did it turn into lemonade?”

“—and then you’d be all ‘Congrats, Partner,’ and yeah, that would probably be it.” 

Souji expected Yosuke to laugh at the image he had created, or to call it lame and throw out ideas for an actual rager… 

“I mean, as long as I’m there with you, I’m down for whatever.” 

Souji dropped his paper crane. 

Why? Souji mentally asked Yosuke, picking his crane back up off the floor. Why must you say such cute things?

Not about to say anything remotely like that out loud, Souji asked, “So what are you doing right now?”

Not seeming to notice the abrupt change of subject, Yosuke answered, “I’m doing homework! Kind of.” 

“Are you just doodling in the margins?” 

“Not just the margins, Partner—the whole paper! Because, you know, there’s no notes on the page…” 

Souji sighed. “Do I need to hang up so you can get your homework done?”

“No! No no no! Please don’t hang up! I’ll actually do it later, I promise!”

“Calm down, I’m not actually gonna hang up on you.” 

“Okay, good.”

“That does remind me, though… Lately I’ve been daydreaming in class a lot. Sometimes I’ll just completely space out, and by the time I space back in, I realize I haven’t been paying attention for an entire lecture.” 

“For real? Did my bad habits rub off on you?”

“Why do you sound like that? What are you doing now?”

“Finished drawing. Balancing a pencil on my nose. Crap! I dropped it. Anyways, you’re supposed to be the good student between the two of us, man! We can’t both be slacking off!” 

“Sorry, Yosuke.”

Before Souji could say anything else, Yosuke suddenly asked, “What do you think about?” 

“Hm?”

“When you’re daydreaming all that time—what are you thinking about?”

“Well… I think about last year a lot, and how I wish I was still there with everyone, and I think about recipes I want to make, and movies I want to see, and what I want to do after high school, and… you. Mostly you, actually,” Souji accidentally admitted. 

“Me? What about me?” 

Now that Souji had let the cat peek its head out of the bag, he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to keep the rest of it in the bag for much longer. 

“I think about all the crazy and terrible and amazing times we had together last year, and how I wish was still there with you. I think about recipes I want to make for you to try, and the faces you’ll make when you’re eating them. I think about movies I want to see, whether or not you would like them, the discussions we would have after we watched them together… I think about how badly I want to do whatever it takes to have more of you in my life after I finish this stupid third year… Yeah, all the time. I think about you all the time.”

“Partner, that’s… um, unexpected. I’m sure someone like you has better things to think about than me.”

Souji shook his head. “No. I don’t. Not more important than you, no.” 

“You’re exaggerating, right? To make me feel good?” 

“I’m not. Does it make you feel good?”

“Well, yeah, sure it does. Being on someone’s mind makes me feel special, y’know? Especially your mind.”

“You seem surprised, Yosuke. You really don’t have any idea how important you are to me, do you?” 

“I guess not? I don't know, it’s just… hard to believe. Do you know why I always make sure we talk to each other like this? I mean, obviously I don’t want you to be lonely, and I want to make sure you’re doing okay, but also like, I just don’t want you to forget me.”

Souji scoffed, immediately covering his mouth afterwards because he definitely hadn’t meant to do that, even if what Yosuke had said was completely ludicrous. 

Forget you? With the amount of running around you do in my mind, how on earth could I possibly forget you? 

Souji quickly tried to find a way to convey that sentiment to Yosuke in a less creepy way. 

“The only way I could ever forget you is if I had a major head injury, like blunt force trauma, and I forgot everything… or, if I, you know, died.” 

“Partner! Don’t say shit like that!” 

“My problem isn’t forgetting you; my problem is remembering you too much. Seriously, it’s constant. But actually, yeah, no, I don’t want to think of you any less, not really…”

“Heh, is this what it feels like to be flattered? You’re really something else, Partner. Oh hey, I’ve gotta go; my mom’s calling me for dinner.”

“Okay,” Souji sighed, feeling like he had sort of just poured his heart out (in a subtle yet super vulnerable and embarrassing way?), and yet the conversation had not come anywhere close to a satisfying resolution. “Tell her I said hi.” 

“Will do! She’ll be thrilled, haha. She’s actually trying out one of the recipes you left her, so I’ll let you know how it goes. Don’t worry though; it’s definitely not gonna be as good as when you make it.” 

Souji rediscovered his smile, happy that Yosuke would be thinking about him after he hung up—comparing his mother’s cooking against Souji’s own while he ate, remembering the times Souji had made the dish for him, coming up with an evaluation to share with Souji after the meal was done… 

“Your loyalty is appreciated.” 

“All right, Partner, thanks for talking to me.”

“Yosuke? I’m sorry if anything I said was too weird.” 

“All you ever say is weird stuff, man. I’m used to it.” 

“Pfft, okay, bye.” 

“Talk to you later!” 

Yosuke hung up, and Souji finished off the crane he was working on, setting the red paper bird on his desk in a row with several other red cranes. He took a photo and sent it off to Yosuke with the caption: “It’s like your shirt.” 

Satisfied with that, Souji stood up so he could go make his own dinner, but a text from Yosuke stopped him in his tracks. 

Instead of a reply about his picture, he opened up an unexpected picture from Yosuke. 

It was of his notebook, the one he had been doodling in at the beginning of their conversation. 

The first thing that caught his eye was a big-headed (chibi?) doodle of himself (the distinct bowl cut was a dead giveaway) in the middle of the page, holding his sword and wearing his TV World glasses. He also appeared to be on fire? Or maybe that was a representation of Persona power? 

Whatever it was, it was adorable.

Souji’s gaze flitted across the full page, his breaths growing more shallow as he took it all in: Izanagi and Jiraiya doing cool(?) action poses next to each other, a bento box that looked very much like the ones Souji used to prepare for Yosuke every day, a half-melted snowman wearing Souji’s grey scarf and Nanako’s Loveline hat, a Mega Beef Bowl from Aiya’s and stick figure versions of all their friends drowning in it… 

It took Souji a minute to realize it, but every single doodle across the page was somehow related to himself, and the memories he and Yosuke shared together. 

In the bottom corner of the page, one doodle was squeezed in that must have been the last one Yosuke drew. It was the two of them standing side-by-side in front of a house (but it didn’t look like any house that Souji recognized?) with their arms around each other’s shoulders. They were wearing big happy faces, and one of Yosuke’s arms was in the air, as if he was waving. 

The circular sun with squiggly rays coming out of it was in the sky above them, smiling and wearing sunglasses, ironically. There was a thing in front of the house that Souji didn’t recognize at first until he saw the bike next to it; it was a half-pipe. 

Then Souji squinted at another part of the doodle and zoomed in on the image, not quite believing his eyes.

In the front window of the house, there was a cat peeking through, big and fluffy just like Souji liked. 

Was that supposed to be… their house? 

“No way,” Souji whispered to himself.

Then he scrolled down to the caption and completely lost his breath. 

“I think of you too.” 

And with that, Souji’s fate was sealed—he was going to be thinking about Yosuke—his Partner who he was in love with (who thought about him too!)—nonstop for the rest of his life. 

[krazyclue]

Italian in Name Only

I am a mixtape of European influences, but the two biggest are Italian and Irish, so it's maybe ironic that I've never been much for family. Not hostile toward it, more like disinterested.

 Italians and the Irish have the reputation of being devoted to their families. If there's nothing quite like a good Catholic upbringing mixed with poverty to convince people to have loads of children, then being middle-class and an only child is the antidote. Never wanted children, never wanted to be part of a family, didn't even really have a notion of them. I just never thought about it.

 Not until lately anyway, and I do not mean in the sense of having children myself. I mean of being suddenly conscious of a growing need to know what my origins are, to see how I somehow fit into the larger concept of a family. When my ancestors arrived in America, what they did once they got here, and how that differs from or mirrors what other families have found. This desire might have something to do with the pandemic and all that time spent alone when the world was shut down—the isolation making me want to reconnect and do so on a deeper level.  

Most of my knowledge of Italy is from the movies, design, and fashion. My understanding of Ireland is even more limited since I spent my only visit there wandering between pubs listening to white guys with 'dreads spinning drum'n'bass. I don't speak any Italian beyond a stray "Ciao, Bella" or "Vaffanculo." I know the second one because English soccer fans used it in a taunting chant whenever they played Italian teams ("Where were you in World War 2? VA-FFAN-CULO!!"). My father spoke fluent Italian when he was a child but forgot most of it in adulthood.  My immediate family is small and spread by time, distance, and some animosity; I know very little about most of the members of my extended one. If I have cultural heritage, it's hard to know what it is.

 I am not at all sure what made me start to think this way. It could have been watching the HBO adaptation of My Brilliant Friend, based on Elena Ferrante's novels. The show is a portrait of two women growing up in 50's Naples. We see their lives against a backdrop of a country coming fitfully to life after the devastation following the Second World War, its progress held back by repressive patriarchy. Grim moments often give way to more ecstatic ones before doubling back again the other way, leading to emotionally vivid set pieces that capture the personal and historical in the same scene. The score by Max Richter alone can induce yearning and seeing the young, very inexperienced cast gradually develop into compelling actors makes the whole experience unforgettable, like the best work of the Italian neorealist cinema.

 But My Brilliant Friend is set in Naples, and my family is from Tuscany. Italy, like the States, is a country of regions that do not always like each other, the north versus the south, and my ancestors would have been culturally different from the show's characters. Still, carried by the show, I find myself more and more drawn to thinking about Italy—I have roots in Germany and France as well, but for some reason, Italy is the country for which I feel the strongest connection. 

 Possibly I am entirely led by my stomach. Early in the pandemic, I started getting into Italian cooking, going carefully through a copy of Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hasan, who you might call the Julia Child of that countries' cuisine. I have a copy of Silver Spoon too, a compendium of real recipes from Italian families, from which I've made a few dishes, and I have my grandmother's pasta maker, and somewhere on an index card her hand-written ravioli recipe. It took all day for her and my grandfather to make that recipe; she stirred the slow simmering meat and prepared the ingredients, and my grandfather painstakingly sealed each ravioli with a fork.

 My German grandfather may have loved his pig's feet and pickled herring, but that obsession thankfully was not passed onto me, nor, as far as I know, to anyone else in my family. I might like a good stout too, even some Irish stew on occasion, but it's Italian food that captures my imagination. I am only beginning to know how each region has shaped that cuisine and the influences that created so many varied dishes. 

 I have not kept up with my family. I hardly know most of them, and outside of my parents and my uncle, I am not in touch with any other relatives. I forget the birthdays of even the closest friends and family; I must mark them on a calendar, or I'll miss the day altogether. My uncle has become something of the family historian and has been sending emails to nearly a dozen family relations. While I do recognize many of the names, there are far more that I do not remember and at least two I only know of by reputation. There are also people I met on that list, only once or twice, and those I saw most often were back when my grandparents were making their famous ravioli to go along with the Thanksgiving turkey, and that was a long time ago now.

 Those emails coincide with my awakening interest in my origins. I know a few more names now: my great grandparents Enea and Italia Lorenzetti emigrated here in 1916 and had two sons; my grandmother's dislike for Enea, a man with old-world beliefs who thought women shouldn't drive, my grandfather's brother, who threatened to walk out if Enea told them how to run their business; a rift with the Catholic Church because a priest wouldn't baptize Enea's and Italia's daughter unless they paid him an indulgence, and that the girl died soon after.

I've seen family photos, the people captured in those images ghost-like in those black and white pictures, and since I am such a mongrel, I do not look at all like them. Of course, I'd like to know more, but really, what I want is a better sense of what Italy is and why I feel so drawn toward it, not only the particulars of my one family's experience. I will start getting to know my family, but that is only the beginning of reconnecting, not its conclusion.

As I read and study (and hopefully get to make that first trip to Italy after the pandemic canceled my trip scheduled for last October), I want to know Italy without romanticizing it. You can convince yourself that life is better "over there" when it's probably the same or worse. Okay, maybe better too, possibly much better. But I don't want to become an obsessive Italy fan. Or fall for obvious cliches—about how Italy is a place where people know how to live. Italians are all passionate and stylish, speaking with their hands, operatic and over the top, and all the other hot-blooded Italian tropes. I'm sure there's some truth there as well.

But Italy also had one of the worst Covid-19 outbreaks and still struggles with a government, often in disarray, that cannot impede the dominance of the Camorra clans in Naples. And Italy still hasn't quite overcome the legacy of Mussolini: a far-right movement led by Matteo Salvini remains threateningly close to taking power, a rise aided by racism and xenophobia. I do not want to idealize or unfairly condemn the place, but rather know Italy and its' people for whatever they are, so I can see how it shaped myself and my family. I want to take pictures in the streets, wander without a plan until I got lost and needed one. Maybe discover my operatic personality.

 Coming out of this lockdown, old age not quite here but getting closer, as in just around the corner smoking a cigarette close, with the world isolated from itself, without any family of my own; maybe that is what sparked this need to connect with a sense of place, a sense of family. That's what being "white" can mean—it's when you've become so absorbed into American culture that your ancestry seems like it started around about 1980 (in my case anyway). I used to joke that my cultural heritage was shopping malls and Back to the Future movies at the multiplex.

 I think that has some advantages to being part of a well-defined community or coming from a large extended family. If you have no family, you won't be assigned an identity by what they think you should be. You won't have as many expectations about your choices before you get to choose for yourself.

 The problem is that you also have no sense of history or your heritage or how your small part fits into it the larger story. You are isolated. You can claim America, the nation of immigrants, but you make a claim not knowing where your people came from, and that might be the worst side effect of assimilation: forgetting the past. I've never known much about mine. I regret letting so much time slip before realizing family and heritage are so important. Now I am going to do my best to embrace my past, whatever it may be. 

[keepingupwithlinmanuel]

Best of the Decade: Lin-Manuel Miranda on making history with Hamilton

No 18th-century U.S. statesman had more sway on stage, more measure on music, or better brought the decade’s zeitgeist to its zenith than Treasury treasure Alexander Hamilton, the immigrant hero about whom Lin-Manuel Miranda spun a Pulitzer-winning, genre-defying, generation-defining Broadway musical that demanded, among other things, a renewed spotlight be shone on the theater as a cornerstone of American culture.

Since Hamilton’s February 2015 debut at the Public Theater and subsequent transfer to Broadway that summer, Miranda has had five years, three tours, half a dozen productions, hundreds of pre-show concerts, and a star-stacked mixtape to say just about everything he could about creating one of the biggest Broadway musicals of all time. And he’s heard everything you can hear about it, too.

“The thing that always trips people up is the incongruity of a hip-hop musical from this historical tone, which I always find surprising,” says Miranda, 39, whose previous Broadway successes included 2005’s Tony-winning In the Heights, 2012’s Bring It On the Musical, and the 2009 revival of West Side Story. “Because I live in musical-theater land, I know a disproportionate amount about Argentine politics because of Evita,” he continues. “I know about a failed revolution in France because of f—in’ Les Miz. I know what I know about the Constitution from 1776. To me it was not [out of place] to have a musical address historical subjects, and the musical forms I was applying to it were just musical forms I had been working hard to master. When I started reading [Ron Chernow’s 2004 biography of Hamilton] I thought, ‘Well, this will be my Jesus Christ Superstar. I’ll do a cool concept album and hopefully someone will figure out how to stage it.’ That’s not how it ended up panning out, but all I was looking to was tradition. I’ve been consistently surprised by how groundbreaking it has been perceived as because I feel like I’m just one in a long tradition of people who have used musical theater on unconventional subjects.”

...

With its 46-track album quick to become ubiquitous in every high school theater department across the country, a show about the might of the people swiftly belonged to the people. “Anecdotally, I heard from countless families who say Hamilton’s the only thing my family can agree on in the car — it’s not the teen’s music, it’s not the grown-up’s music, it’s sort of everyone’s music, and that has been thrilling,” Miranda beams. He’s heard tales of children with learning disabilities surprising their families by memorizing the words of the show, of kids with behavioral issues who found focus, relaxation, or solace in engaging with the libretto. “I think the tonnage of it is actually something that has its own legacy,” Miranda points out. “The fact that it’s literally so much show and so much music, it becomes this challenge for kids to wrap their minds around, the way my friends and I would memorize the Rent soundtrack and assign each other parts in high school a generation before. It’s done that for a new generation of kids, so that’s been really thrilling to see. More often than not, if someone is asking me for a signature or a selfie, it’s on behalf of their children. A lot of, ‘My kid would kill me if I didn’t ask for this photo.’”

And yet, it’s still tough to crack Miranda’s humility (and through the years, EW has tried). Miranda would sooner list 50 line-item debts he owes to Jay-Z and Les Miz and N.W.A. and ALW and Menken and Moreno and Method Man than praise his own impact or boast of the creative genius others have described him as having. Perhaps that’s why Hamilton’s crossover into the mainstream brought him along with it, into a stimulating new leg of a career that taps into his acting (His Dark Materials), songwriting (Moana), dynamic displays of dramaturgy (Fosse/Verdon), and even downright old-school showmanship (Mary Poppins Returns). But Miranda also uses his star power to redirect his spotlight elsewhere: on hurricanes, on history, on anxiety and artistry and the difficult intersection of both.

Only anecdotes (and EW) force Miranda to acknowledge how Hamilton did in fact change the game, especially in its electrified dialogue around the multiplicity of perspectives and representation in entertainment. He offers one such tale he particularly treasures: “I had seen Ava DuVernay’s A Wrinkle in Time in theaters opening weekend, and they actually quoted my words and the show — I will never forget that as long as I live — and I had the chance to meet her and she told me that when she first met with Disney about the movie, she said, ‘I hope you know I’m doing a Hamilton on this,’” Miranda recalls. “The fact that she used that as shorthand for ‘I’m casting this with actors of color and it’s all hands on deck’ — that was very, very moving to me. The fact that this show is cast the way it is and has been as successful as it has, I think broke down some kind of door. I hope we’ve ended the conversation about nontraditional casting in a very real way. There’s no going backwards now.”

Only going forward, into whatever creative heir to Hamilton lies in our 2020s and his future 40s. “I spent my 20s writing Heights and I spent my 30s writing Hamilton,” says Miranda, whose milestone ages are tied to the turn of the decades themselves (he’ll be 40 on Jan. 16, 2020). “I was actually pretty down at the top of this decade,” he recalls. “I remember the hangover after my 30th birthday party… it was a great party, but I just remember feeling like this was adulthood for real, and [not knowing] what’s going to happen. But it has also been the most fulfilling and joyous decade I’ve had so far. It’s been unreal.” And he’ll enter his 40s in similarly surrealistic fashion: In addition to a movie of Heights arriving in June, he’ll make his directorial debut helming a Netflix film adaptation of Tick, Tick… BOOM!, the 1990 musical by the late Jonathan Larson about a composer’s midlife anxiety over his artistic accomplishments. Miranda doesn’t need to point out the parallels. “We’re shooting ‘30/90’ the day I turn 40, so you wanna talk about decades? Jonathan Larson is almost exactly 20 years older than me, and to begin the decade telling his story, telling the story of the person who allowed me to believe I had a life in the theater? That feels like a really nice way to start.”

[potteresque-ire]

Writing Tag!

Tagged by @bounding-heart ❤️❤️❤️. Sorry for taking forever to reply! I also just realised there’s a “Statistics” page on AO3 to answer the questions. Yes, I’m hopeless 😅.

AO3 name: potteresque_ire

Fandoms: Harry Potter (Drarry), have also dipped my toes in Yuri!On Ice (Victuuri), Good Omens (Ineffable Hubbies).

Tropes: Hmm. I don’t think of fics by tropes -- I don’t search for fics by tropes or start writing with a trope in mind, but I do enjoy many of them and they do pop up in my stories every now and then. Enemies-to-lovers is always good. Yes to pining, hurt/comfort...

Number of fics: Leaving out drabbles and ficlets ... around 25 (I know it’s a small number * bows head in shame *)

Fic I spent the most time on: The fic that felt like I spent the longest on was Twelve Days of Christmas. Its premise, with Draco as someone who might or might not have lost his mind and Harry, who might or might not have got there before Draco, was kinda beyond my skills to execute at the time but I tried anyway 😊.  It’s also the only fic I’ve written that I found truly depressing, because it’s got the worst fate I’ve given Harry by far (and I’ve assigned MCD to him several times)(sorry).

Fic I spent the least time on: For time-spent-per-word, The Kitchen Thieves (and the Kitchen Herself).

Longest Fic: Also The Kitchen Thieves (and the Kitchen Herself) (67k).

Shortest Fic: Among those I’ve given fic-level attention -- written with recipient in mind, edited and beta’ed — probably Owlcards and Letters from Beyond the Storm (~3.6k). Its time-per-word ratio was high though, because it was in a mixed media format and much time was spent on the images and fitting the text to them.

Most hits: Evolution, which has never ceased to surprise me. I assumed, at the time of posting, that this fic would be too event-less (opposite of eventful) to attract readership.

Most kudos: Evolution

Most comment threads:  Owlcards and Letters from Beyond the Storm (published on LiveJournal; the fic is celebrating its 10th birthday this year.)

Most bookmarks: Evolution

Total word count: 362,612 according to AO3. It counts all the shorts and metas as well.

Favourite fic I wrote: Oh, this is difficult! My feelings towards my work tend to stem from the memories I have of the writing period, from who I was at the time, rather than from how the story turned out or how well it’s been received. Owlcards, for example, is highly significant for personal reasons but given the special circumstances of its birth, I doubt I can create something similar again even if I dearly wish I could. 

From a more fannish perspective, I think my answer would be The Kitchen Thieves (and the Kitchen Herself), because I felt it best captured the Harry/Draco dynamics I was aiming for.

Why it was so, I think, is the same reason why this fic hasn’t been attractive to potential readers: its narration came from neither character of the main ship (it’s only after this fic that I learned it’s quite an unpopular thing to do). I’m not good at thinking like a person in love (deep-end aro-ace reporting here 😊) and while I’m getting better at “faking it”, I suspect there’s still a whole plethora of emotions I’m missing. But I’ve trained myself to read the signs of romance for years, taught myself how to approach people, real or fictional, caught in that whirlwind of emotions that leave me confused more often than I’d like to admit. Tumblr fandom is so much about pointing at a pair of characters and saying “they’re in love” (or, ”that’s gay”)... and I don’t really possess that drive, or insight, inherently. (For those who know Good Omens the series, I totally missed Aziraphale’s look after Crowley handed him back the books. That’s how bad I can be at picking up the signs of romance.) I’m therefore used to being a … somewhat removed observer of ships, sympathetic (hopefully) but not necessarily empathetic, and it’s easier for me to write about them that way. TL;DR: Kate the kitchen spirit in The Kitchen Thieves has a bit of me sometimes, staring at Harry’s and Draco’s crazy way of loving and going Whoa???

(Apologies for the TMI! I’ve got a super lovely string reviews on AO3 this week (thank you so much ❤️, V, I treasure all of them) and it got me thinking, it got me to notice that aside from the “you make me cry” comments, I also get a lot of reviews that mention the complexity, the ... heavy-handedness of my writing. I wonder if some of it is compensation. Because I don’t feel the romance of the story as much as many readers probably do, I layer on more emotions because I fear they don’t feel present, that they read inadequate. True? Not true? Something for me to think about. Regardless, I’ll probably keep layering because the emotions are there for myself, as well.)

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: The only fic I’ve ever had a sequel for in my mind is Memoria in Aeterna (yes, @bounding-heart, the bee fic!). The third Wizarding War would’ve broken out, and Draco, who’d long sequestered himself in the Water Quadrant, would’ve found the courage to re-enter society and join Harry for the fight. No happy endings for anyone. I don’t think I’ll write it up though; the climate of fandom has changed so much.

Share a bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on: Here’s a bit from the (very) long Good Omens fic I’m currently struggling with:

===

Dead too, by the end of that snow shower, was any prospect of a future together between an angel and a human. Please forgive me for prying, Robbie would say to Aziraphale one day, while standing in front of the photo in the gentlemen club in Pall Mall. But I can’t be in love with someone I don’t even know the name of. Aziraphale would hold on to the books he’d been gifted, a collection of the Writer’s first edition works, nod and say lightly, I forgive you, before swallowing the words he’d practised saying over and over again in the bookshop.

My name is Aziraphale.

I’m an angel.

He wept that night, and several nights after, but unlike the many times he’d watched Romeo and Juliet, nobody was watching over him in the shadows.

Aziraphale was alone.  

Meanwhile, a few districts down from Mayfair, the demon who’d known this all along, that mortals and immortals could never be mates without deceit and heartbreak, was stirring on a beam. The floor of the living room had disappeared under the letters her colleagues had slipped under the door over the years—commendations addressed to A. J. Crowley, DR letters complaining about the humanity of her new name. They’d piled high, and in twenty-four more years, one of them would reach high enough to tickle the demon’s nose.

She’d wake with a sneeze.

===

Tagging everyone who wants to do it!! :)