#but I suppose since he’s not a cartoon boy I see a professional first and the character second

[siflshonen]

The boxer bkg is based on Kota Miura (MMA Fighter) there a challenge going on twitter of people drawing him cause he look like him lol it very accurate

Ah, yes, I went googling for it last night. Thank you!

So that’s what folks think Katsuki looks like in real life, huh…

[xgummibearx]

Hit with a quirk! Hawkes X (F) Reader

(Been taking my time to write here and there, thank you so much for your patience and allowing me to take a short break from this series! For context since I haven't updated in a while; the pro heroes awere hit with a quirk that turned them into children and the reader is UA's adolescent quirk development specialist. she works with children regularly and has been called to help monitor the heroes until the quirk wears off. Hint: all of the fics I am writing for this series connect. Enjoy!)

(X)= your name

warnings: none

(I've never written or even read anything for Hawkes or Endeavor before but!...I'll try! I'm actually going to be loosely basing Keigo as a kid off my own little brother, I feel he would have been similar lol)

"Hey man lighten up, you're a walking lava lamp! that shouldn't be hard for ya big guy." Hawkes was hovering at Endeavour's eye level, wearing a smirk as he crossed his arms. Endeavour growled, glaring at the stubborn bird brained hero. "Hey what can I say it was a good burn." He added with a snicker. Endeavor swatted at Hawkes as if he were nothing more than a pesky mosquito. His phone was ringing.

"Silence!" He snapped, "The agency is calling." He answered gruffly; "what is the meaning of this? I am working on a case!"

"About that sir!" A voice nervously responded, "we were just informed that Eraserhead and Present Mic disappeared while in pursuit of a lead? Regarding that villain you were pursuing..." Endeavor growled;

"Do I look like a street patroller?! Just get a hold of Fatgum; tell him, and stop wasting my time we're professionals!" He grumbled under his breath; "since when did we come to a time where pro heroes needed babysitters?" His receptionist quietly explained;

"That's the problem sir...Fatgum as well as his intern were the first ones on the scene; but...they disappeared as well, and never made a report." Endeavor froze; what was this? The league? All for One? He narrowed his eyes.

"I see...the situation is alot more serious than I thought, thank you for notifying me. Ensure that the rest of our units continue as normal but have them on standby if things get out of hand."

"yes sir..." Endeavor hung up.

"Come on Hawkes..." He grumbled. "We have work to do."

---

Hawkes was flying high above the air, they were nearing Aizawa and Hizashi's last known location when he heard a loud shout. Keigo stopped, doing a double take. "HEY!" He looked down to see what looked like a group of kids being chased by some wierd looking guy in a purple cloak.

"Pick on someone your own size you psycho!" He shouted, swooping down and kicking the assailant square in the chest. He was knocked back into some garbage cans, making one of the boys cheer.

"Good hit mister!" Hawkes turned with a grin.

"Thanks, don't you worry I'll make sure you get home..." He froze, his eyes wide as he got a good look at the kids. One of the boys was chubby, wih a familiar wide grin. "...Fatgum?..." The kid with shaggy black hair that looked an awful lot like Aizawa suddenly screamed, pointing over Hawkes shoulder.

"HEY LOOK OUT!" The villain suddenly appearing and grabbing Keigo, not to mention Aizawa's shout startled poor Hizashi and he screamed loudly; bringing Keigo and the villain to their knees. In fear, the boy quickly turned and ran.

"Hey, wait!" Keigo tried to stand but the figure in the purple cloak hovered overhead with his boot planted on Hawke's back.

"Come on!" Taishiro quickly lead the others away after Hizashi, "we have to help him!" Hawkes couldnt move as he reached towards the kids.

"Dammit wait!" He froze as he felt a hand on his head.

"Nice try hero!" The last thing Hawkes saw was a cloud of smoke.

---

Keigo was aching all over when he opened his eyes, his tiny body picked up like a ragdoll as the villain lifted him by the scruff of his shirt. The rest of the events were a blur, a huge man that looked like a walking roman candle burst in and punched the villain but as he was picked up, the second that Keigo had touched the man's arm he too was surrounded by smoke.

The next thing Keigo knew, he was sitting in a waiting room with a group of other kids. All of them tired, one kid with particularly shaggy black hair was passed out on the tile floor snoring loudly.

---

"We made arrangements for Taishiro and Hizashi already; do you think you could handle Takami?"  (X) shrugged.

"Sure, but if he gives me shit when this thing wears off I'm blaming you!" She chuckled, shaking her head. Nezu laughed, walking alongside her to the waiting room.

"Takami?..." (X) called, glancing around the waiting room. Her eyes fell on a kid with small bright red wings wearing a familiar dazed look. Nezu walked Keigo over, explaining that she was going to look after him for a couple days. The small eight year old boy looked right up at (X) with a deadpan expression.

"So I'm staying with that old lady?" (X) narrowed her eyes, even as a child he had a sharp tongue.

"Keep that up and I'll make you take a bath when we get back home." The boy immediately shut his mouth, remaining quiet until they got home. Keigo was very unimpressed upon arrival as he found himself coaxed into getting a bath anyway. Afterwards as he lay in bed with a sweater that was much too big for him  however, even he had to admit he felt much better.

---

"I want chicken nuggets!" The boy declared, his feet on the table and his pitiful wings proudly outstretched. (X) rolled her eyes, he had come barreling into her room at 6am begging to be fed. "I'M STARVING!" He had insisted. She glared at him.

"No." Keigo scrunched his face up and crossed his as he crossed his arms.

"Yes!" He snapped.

"I said no." (X) sighed.

"Well...I said yes!" She smirked.

"That doesn't change anything! You can't have chicken nuggets for breakfast, you're not supposed to have your feet on the table so get them off, and get some manners while you're at it.." (X) grumbled, standing up to the sound of the coffee pot announcing a fresh brew of the nectar of the gods. (X) sipped her coffee slowly, mostly black but with a tiny dash of creme.

"I wanna try some!" Keigo hopped off the table, bouncing at her feet.

"Definitely not, now I am going to wash my face and then I'll make us some eggs okay?" Keigo nodded.

"Okay, eggs are good..." He watched (X) leave then slowly turned to the coffee pot.

(X) returned to find an empty mug left on the ground, a half empty coffee pot and Keigo laughing uncontrollably in the next room. She gasped, he was hanging upside down from the ceiling fan. "KEIGO!?" (X) shouted, running to detatch him. As she got closer Keigo's feathers got caught on the pull switch of the fan and before they knew it he was spinning uncontrollably, was flung off through the air against a wall.

The rest of the morning was no better, he was running around nonstop, even flying indoors and sending things sailing. The school owed her a new set of dishes to put it simply.

Eventually (X) admitted defeat, taking Keigo to the nearby park to blow off some steam. "This kid is going to be the death of me..." (X) moaned, leaning back as exhaustion washed over her. She found herself dozing off, her eyes growing heavy snd before she knew it (X) was asleep. It like it had only been seconds when she was woken to the sound of thunder. There was a very light drizzle but it would definitely get heavier.

Everyone else in the park had left, Keigo was standing on the bench beside her. He was attempting to use his tiny wings as an umbrella. "You look tired...can we go home?" (X) smiled, laughing softly.

"Well aren't you sweet. Okay."

Warm clothes, hot bowls of beef stew, and plenty of  cartoons made for the perfect evening. By the end of their third film they had both fallen asleep on the couch, the tiny boy curled up beside (X) with her arms sleepily wrapped around him.

---

It was still the middle of the  night when Keigo woke and was back to normal. It was unexpected, considering him suddenly being full size left him with no room on the couch and he loudly crashed to thw floor.

"mm...Takami?..." (X) mumbled, sitting up slowly. She looked at the floor to see Keigo, staring back up her. He could feel his face burning, the memories of the day flooding in.

"uhm...for what it's worth?...I don't actually think you're an old lady..." He mumbled slowly.

(X) smirked, shaking your head. "Come here you idiot..." Keigo curled back up on the couch with her. "So, you're not going to give me shit?" Keigo chuckled, she could feel his voice vibrate as he slowly pulled her into an embrace. His nose and mouth softly nuzzled into the top of her head.

"Maybe I'll wait a couple days first." (X) giggled, her face pressed into his chest.

"Maybe we should go on a coffee date."

Keigo laughed, "oh fuck off!"

[ninjastormhawkkat]

Alliance Swap Au: Other Characters

In my first post for this au, I mentioned which ally of Wordgirl is swapped. Some of this involves a swap of powers. It will also involve a swap of personality. Here is the outline for each characters.

Victoria and Violet:

I noticed that Victoria does have some good qualities despite her overall villainous character. (That is definitely her parents fault.) One thing I noted is that Victoria does have somewhat of a dependable character and she is smart enough to realize her situation and mistakes (when her ego is not in the way). In one episode (I forgot the name) Victoria was willing to work together with Wordgirl to get Wordgirl’s powers back from Victor. Even though Victoria’s main motivation was to not be out-bested by her brother, she did prove dependable in helping Wordgirl out. In this au, I increased Victoria’s better qualities. She is a loyal and dependable best friend to Becky. She still acts brash and is somewhat brutally honest, but she will acknowledge her flaws and sincerely apologize when called out for her bad behavior. She is sassy and will throw hands to protect her friends, even when she doesn’t have to. (Tobey and Becky often have to pull her back to keep Victoria from getting hurt or worse.) In this au, Victoria has a single ponytail, regular hair ribbons that are blue in color. She wears a light blue shirt with a grey jacket. Her skirt, shoes, and socks are the same as in canon. Victoria likes Pretty Princess (not to an extant as Becky). In this au her parents are corporate people. (Idk the jobs) They are better than their canon selves, but are a little distant due to how busy their jobs are. They do love their children and want the best for them (not pushing them to be the best always) they just don’t have the time to spend with them as they want to. Victoria’s parents do let Victor and Victoria stay with friends or a good babysitter when they are extremely busy. The Best’s home is not as extravagant as in canon and the rest of the family are dressed more normally and comfortably. (They are still an upper-class family, but look like a normal family to everyone else.) Instead of Art, Becky and Victoria take music class together. (Becky is still terrible.) Victoria does not have her powers. Victoria is sensible in this au, but does try to become a superhero because it looks awesome. “Violet Superhero” happens a little differently, but Victoria does not take the mantle anymore because she realizes she is not cut out for heroics and leave it to the professionals. She and Tobey are still fans of Wordgirl, neither are easily fooled as the rest of the city. (Victoria’s hero outfit is same as canon.) Victoria is basically sassy mostly and does have General Smoochington, but treats him like a loving pet in this au and is definitely a lot more caring toward him. 

For Violet, I decided to twist her good qualities and make them corrupt. This was based on the villain from Wander over Yonder, Dr. Screwball, and how he wanted to make everyone laugh, whether they wanted to or not. Violet in this au wants to live in a world where everything is all sunshine and rainbows and everyone is happy all the time. She thinks that everybody is a winner and it is not fair when someone gets a trophy when another person doesn’t. Violet was raised in an environment by her mother where everything and everybody needs to live in peace and harmony and those who don’t need to be shown the error of their ways. Ex. In the introduction episode for Victoria Best, Violet gets upset when Victoria earns a lot of trophies (not every trophy like in canon). So she takes them to “teach her a lesson” about humility. (In this au, Victoria earned her trophies because of her hard work.) Violet also gets upset when she sees how Wordgirl treats the villains even though she is just doing her job and treats them the same as canon. Violet does get mistaken for Wordgirl and does try to take up the role of Wordgirl just to prove that Wordgirl is doing a terrible job and she should become a hero to be more sympathetic to everyone. (Her hero outfit is “The Framer”). Her powers are similar to Victoria’s. She has pink eyes when she uses them to move and levitate stuff. Violet paints and shows everyone her painting which puts them in a hypnotic trance which keeps them in a peaceful state until the control wears off. (If anyone has watched the Scooby-Doo: Mystery Incorporated episode “When Walks Aphrodite” it is similar to that.) 

Tobey and Scoops:

I sorta did the same thing as I did for Violet and Victoria in this au. There are no interest or ability swaps for these two.

Tobey in this au is just an avid, albeit a little too energetic, inventor. Tobey is head of the media/technical club and is in charge of the media stuff used in school such as electronics used for classrooms and organizing technical special effects for school events. Tobey still dresses the same, but acts like a lovable nerd. Both he and Becky have crushes on each other, but the boy is oblivious as heck that Becky has a crush on him. Becky is not as lovey-dovey as she is in canon with Scoops when expressing herself towards Tobey in this au. Tobey has no idea that Becky is Wordgirl until the “Invasion of the Bunny Snatchers” episode. Tobey still invents robots for fun on the side. 

For Scoops, you remember how I made his character in my Morally Gray Wordgirl au? Well he is a lot worse in this au. He is still a reporter and a part of the Daily Rag (not head reporter). In this au, Scoops will do anything to get a Scoop, even sometimes aiding villains or helping to cause incidents to just get a great story. (Since Tobey is not a villain in this au, I have Dr. Ape Brains taking over most of Tobey’s canon roles with some shifts to other villains.) He is obsessed with finding out Wordgirl’s identity and causes an incident where he messes with Tobey’s Robots which cause them to go on a rampage at Becky’s home and a few other instances. Scoops does not mean to get people hurt, but he is too focused on “getting the BIG scoop” to notice. He does get punished by his parents. Canon outfit.

Eileen and Rex:

Now I chose to swap these two because they are both similar in personality. The both have childlike curiosity and are equally energetic. They both tend to ignore what others tell them and seem to think they know what they are doing. 

In this au, Eileen is a alien superhero from the planet Gigantian. She can control her size changes and is super strong. She can’t fly but has incredible stamina and dexterity that allows her to leap high in the air. She still has the baby talk (kids on Gigantian talk like a baby until their 13.) This annoys the heck out of Becky. Steven now has to deal with two energetic superheroes. (Sarcastically) Lucky him. Her hero name is Giantess. Her hero outfit is a pink mask. She has a suit style similar to Kid Math’s, but the main colors are pink with purple gloves, boots, and a cape. Her insignia is a mini green person in a strongman stance with black radio wave lines surrounding the person which symbolizes Eileen’s growth and shrinking abilities. Her secret identity outfit is the same as in canon. Her hairstyle as a superhero is in a ponytail while her secret identity has her canon hair and bow.

Rex is a kid villain known has Math Whiz. He treats everything as a research study. Rex does believe every day is his birthday which entitles him to do anything he wants all in the name of research. In the introductory episode for Eileen (changed for this au) Rex takes Squeaky for a lab rat and obliviously ignores Squeaky biting him all the time for release. When he doesn’t get what he wants he uses his powers. Rex is able to project holographic math monsters of various sizes that either protect him, steal for him, or attack anyone that bothers him (on command). These monsters may be holographic but can hurt someone physically. They look like math numbers and equations, have sharp teeth, cartoon eyes and arms, and are mainly white in color with a blue hue that surrounds them. Luckily, the amount of math monsters Rex is able to generate depend on his level of entitlement. If he is greedy for one thing or if it is for small reasons, he can usually generate one monster. Even if he is able to generate multiple math monsters at once, it takes a lot of energy out of him so he can only do it a few times.  

Rose Franklin and Chazz:

Recently, I decided to do a character change swap for Rose Franklin. I originally picked Katy because she was friendly and apologetic with Toby like Rose was with Scoops. Writing this post, I began to think about how Chazz was in the episode where he was being a bad influence for TJ. Since I have Scoops being a villain in this au, why not do the same for Rose. In this au, Rose acts like a cool girl/bad influence which impresses TJ and he develops a silly crush on her (which then ends when Wordgirl gets him back to his senses). She has an outfit and attitude similar to Chazz’s, but adjusted for a girl. Rose in this au is called Roe. 

Chazz in this au is a laid back, but intelligent kid who uses focuses on environmental science. The “News Girl” episode is retitled “Science Boys” for this au. In this au, Chazz accidentally insults Tobey by saying building robots isn’t really a helpful science as it would make people too dependent on robots. (Tobey is immediately upset and ready to throw hands because NO ONE insults his robots. Becky holds him back before Tobey does something stupid). Chazz in this au is called Chad Hudson. He moved to Fair City with his mom who is the new Forewoman (idk what a female foreman is supposed to be called?) for the Power Plant. Wordgirl and Mouse Ace stop the energy monster from destroying the plant and giving Chazz’s mom more work. In this au, Becky takes Chad to natural places along with technical places to get him more comfortable with the city and to ease the issues between him and Tobey. (Tobey does make friends with him in the end.) Tobey during this tour gets upset when Chad creates environment experiments that are beneficial for the civilians and villains. Ex. he creates an organic, environmentally friendly, gel that is great for Chuck’s bread skin and helps the grocery store manager to grow more head hair which he talks to Chad about profiting in his store. Chad figures out Becky’s identity the same way Rose does because this guy is smart. He plans Becky’s exposure as a major science project because her identity and life is a great scientific study. Steven is doing work stuff when Becky calls him to help her fight the bad guys so Steven is not on the tour with them. Steven finds out about how Chad discovered her identity after Becky tells him. Steven, after Tobey, confronts Chad (Tobey’s talk is similar as Scoop’s talk to Rose) and he basically explains the importance of keeping Wordgirl’s identity secret (acting as an adult) and also sort of threatens Chad (Two Brains’ canon character is showing). Luckily Chad, at this point, had already decided to not reveal Wordgirl’s secret and do something else for his project.He is from now on scared of Becky’s dad. It also takes a while for Steven to fully trust him.

Everyone else is pretty much the same for this au. Steven and Becky are neighbors to the Botsfords, TJ is still a fan of Wordgirl with Johnson as his sidekick (I decided to not bother swapping them for the au), and Miss Powers is still an evil alien (I couldn’t find anyone for her or Colonel Gigglecheeks). I don’t have any ship ideas for Victoria or the rest of the characters in this au. Except for Tobecky.  

(Another thing I forgot to mention in my first post about Squeaky is that the mouse sometimes travels with Becky in her pocket. So he does come with her to school sometimes. He usually sticks with Steven in the lab. Squeaky is kidnapped as was Bob in the “Birthday Girl” episode and is put in a girly dress which he despises with every fiber in his being. He also escapes the “Invasion of the Bunny Snatchers” mind control and helps Becky because his body was too small for the button to stick on well.) 

So that is my Alliance Swap au for Wordgirl

[cozy-neko]

The Cherry On Top • 01 • 02 | The Cherry On Top • 03

“Kozume, are you even listening to me?” Akaashi sighs and closes his laptop. He was only halfway through his scheduled agenda for today’s meeting, but there was no point in continuing if his client was just going to ignore him for the whole hour.

“I am, I am,” Kenma mumbled, eyes fixated on something that was hidden under the table.

“What did I just talk about for the last ten minutes then?” Akaashi challenged.

“We’re changing my video uploads from Tuesdays to Fridays, and Black Sheep wants to do a sponsorship with me in my next stream,” Kenma replies without skipping a beat. His feline eyes are still glued to his phone, unblinking, as his fingers tapped away at one of his games.

Akaashi sighed once more. “And you’re fine with the upcoming changes and sponsorship then?”

Kenma nodded. “Akaashi. I trust you to make the best decisions for me.” He finally slipped his phone back into his pocket and tilted his head to look his friend in the eye. “I didn’t hire you as my manager for no reason.”

“If I knew working with you was going to be this difficult, I would’ve stuck with my previous job.” Akaashi flashed the male a wry smile.

“Hey, if you want to hand in your resignation letter right now and go back to your previous life of disgusting convenience store food and cigarettes for lunch, by all means.” Kenma smirked and extended a hand out, palm up as if waiting for an actual resignation letter to manifest from Akaashi.

Akaashi cleared his throat and reopened his laptop. “Moving on...”

“TOORU!!!” Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs as soon as she spotted the fashion editor from across the courtyard. Lunchers nearby stared at the loud girl before turning their heads to look at the unfortunate boy on the receiving end of the shout.

Oikawa contemplated ignoring his friend and instead considered turning around to head back inside TK Mag’s office building. He would rather eat with his annoying suck-up intern than his embarrassing friend. Unfortunately for him, said friend yelled his name once more and beckoned for him to come over.

Oikawa’s eye twitched and he reluctantly trudged across the courtyard and towards Y/N.

“Don’t be so embarrassing, Y/N-chan,” Oikawa grumbled as he took a seat across from her.

“Oh please, as if that airplane tie you’re wearing isn’t embarrassing,” Y/N shot back, eyes flickering up once at the cartoon-printed tie before back down at her laptop screen.

“They’re UFOs, for your information,” Oikawa mumbled through gritted teeth, “and besides, Ayame-chan said it was cute, so your opinion is invalid and unnecessary.”

“Enough about your tie. I’m about to literally combust from nerves.” 

“What is it this time?” Oikawa rolled his eyes and lazily sipped his latte. 

“I’m about to schedule my first blog post for tomorrow.” At this, Oikawa’s eyes widened and he straightened up in his seat.

“Who’s the unlucky victim?” Oikawa scooted closer to Y/N, their elbows touching as he leaned in to read off her screen.

“You know, for someone who looks like she’s about to shit her pants from nerves, you wouldn’t be able to tell with Cherry’s online persona,” Oikawa hummed and nonchalantly commented. 

Y/N smacked his shoulder once in response. 

“That’s the whole point, Oinkawa. No one’s supposed to know that Cherry is me, and that I am Cherry.” Y/N sighed and brought the tip of her thumb to her mouth. She nibbled on her fingernail nervously as she clicked on the draft of her blog post. “Well? Can you tell who it is?”

“I would say Miya Atsumu, the MSBY setter, but I wouldn’t exactly call him beautiful, Y/N-chan.”

“It’s not Miya Atsumu and you take that back! He is beautiful, but that’s besides the point; it’s Kozume Kenma, the professional gaming streamer and content creator.”

“Well that’s subjective,” Oikawa sneered. Iwaizumi once had the opportunity to interview Miya Atsumu for an editorial, and Oikawa had tagged along much to Iwaizumi’s headache. Having played as a setter as well during his time in high school, Oikawa had some differences with Atsumu’s playing style, and the two did not get along too well that day.

“How’d you even get this dirt on Kozume Kenma anyways?” Oikawa made a face and smacked Y/N’s hand away from her mouth. “That’s disgusting, Y/N-chan, and you’re getting nail polish in your teeth.”

“I stalked his fan accounts on Twitter. It’s amazing what you can find with a little digging, to be honest.” Y/N scanned her draft. “And a little scary,” she added as an afterthought.

“Ugh, kami, I can’t do this, Tooru!” Y/N whined and shut her laptop, taking her head into her hands. “This is the most disgusting line of work I’ve ever imagined myself having to do.”

“You know no one is forcing you to take this promotion, right?” Oikawa leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest.

“This is Y/N and TK Mag we’re talking about here.” Oikawa and Y/N turned around at the new voice. “If you were over $100k in student debt and a well-known and well-paying company offered you a promotion, wouldn’t you take it?” Iwaizumi and Hanamaki walked up to the duo and took a seat at their table.

“You’re literally talking about the girl who’s dream is to become a princess and find a rich prince charming to take care of her,” Hanamaki added.

“Hey!” Y/N interjected, but was ignored. 

“But she also didn’t graduate as a journalist with an emphasis in fashion from UTokyo to become a gossip blogger,” Oikawa pointed out.

“Okay can we not talk about me like I’m not here?” Y/N pouted. “And you all have valid points.” 

She sighed. This was a tough decision. Y/N does have a lot of student debt to pay off, and the pay raise that came with the promotion was definitely enticing and worth drooling over. On the other hand, Oikawa was right in which Y/N didn’t graduate with over $100k in debt with a journalism degree to become a gossip blogger. But one thing that Y/N also had to think about was that this promotion would’ve been her opportunity to become a full-time employee at TK Mag, her dream company. And then there was Hanamaki, who was there just to out her (slightly) embarrassing and (very much so) unrealistic dream.

“Why’d you even take the promotion anyways? You could’ve just stayed an intern and wait for staff writer positions to open up.”

Y/N knocked twice before entering the Editor in Chief’s private office. “Good afternoon, Chief! You wanted to see me?”

“Oh yes, Y/N, come in. Please, take a seat while I finish up this email.”

Y/N grinned and skipped over to the loveseat that occupied the middle of the office. She crossed her legs and smoothed her blouse. Y/N was buzzing, and it wasn’t just because of the three cups of coffee she had stomached throughout the day.

“Judging by how you can’t sit still, I’m assuming you know why I called you in here.” 

“Oh, sorry. I’ve had one too many cups of coffee today,” Y/N responded sheepishly. “But I hope you’re gonna tell me what I think it is you’re gonna tell me.” 

It was hard for Y/N to keep the smile on her face from growing as she watched her Chief pull out a folder and place it down on the coffee table in front of her. The smile on Y/N’s face grew bigger as the Chief pulled out a piece of paper and slid it towards her. It was exactly what Y/N was expecting: a contract for a full-time position at the company.

“Congratulations, Y/N. Your hard work has not gone unnoticed these past few months you’ve been at TK Mag as an intern, and we’d like to extend our offer to you as a full-time employee.”

“Yes, yes, yes! I accept!” Y/N squealed and eagerly looked through her tote bag for a pen. “I don’t even care what staff writer position it’s for -- although my first choice would be for the fashion department since I did go to school for fashion journalism -- but I’m so excited!!” Y/N was already picturing herself attending fashion shows with Oikawa.

“Y/N, wait. Before you sign, I just want you to know that the full-time position isn’t to become a staff writer for the fashion department.”

“Huh?” Y/N stopped riffling through her bag. “...What is it for then?” 

“TK Mag is going to try something new. We’re going to branch out to a sister site and run a gossip blog called The Cherry on Top. I want you to take on the alias as Cherry and run the blog.”

“Gossip... blog...? The Cherry on Top? Me?” Y/N could hardly comprehend what the Chief was saying.

“Will you accept? I know it’s a brand new position and something we’ve never done before at TK Mag, but we have high hopes and I know you’ll do well as one of my best employees.”

“With all due respect, Chief, I’m a fashion writer. I write about fashion week and the latest trends in the fashion industry. I don’t write gossip nor do I want to slander anyone. It’s not my cup of tea.” Y/N narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t believe the Chief wanted her to do such dirty work.

“I had a feeling this might be the case.” The Chief sighed, and all signs of pleasantries disappeared. “Listen, Y/N, if you don’t want this promotion, I’ll give it to the next intern in line. But just know that if you don’t take this position, you’re going to have to clear out your desk by end of day and find a new company to work for.”

Y/N was in disbelief. She couldn’t believe her career was getting threatened. Her grip on her pen tightened as she stared at the document in front of her. The words Full-time Employee Contract for: Cherry, The Cherry on Top seemed to glare at her. 

“There will also be a hefty raise included in your promotion,” the Chief added after witnessing Y/N’s hesitation. “You did just graduate from UTokyo, did you not? Surely you don’t want to be riddled with student debt.”

Y/N was torn. What was she going to do? TK Mag was her dream company, and if she refused the promotion and got let go, she would drown in debt. Surely being a gossip blogger wouldn’t be too bad, right?

Y/N swallowed her pride and uncapped her pen. With a quick flourish, she signed her signature on the contract and forlornly shook hands with a now-smiling Chief. 

I hope I didn’t make the wrong decision...

“You made the right decision, Y/N. Welcome to the team.”

Y/N gulped. She couldn’t tell her friends that her job security had been threatened if she didn’t take the promotion.

“Well maybe it was time for me to grow up. I don’t need a rich prince charming to take care of me. I’ll take care of myself with my new pay raise.” Y/N grimaced on the inside. She hoped that was convincing, but judging by the silent stares she received from her three male friends, even she knew they weren’t too believing of her.

“Anyways, Cherry promised her 500 followers the first post will be up tomorrow, and she isn’t one to break promises, so... let’s queue this baby up.” With a swift click of her trackpad, Y/N’s first gossip post as Cherry was scheduled.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Hanamaki shared a look.

Kenma was unfazed. He really was. Even when his Twitter notifications blew up with mentions, he simply ignored them. It wasn’t like he paid much attention to them in the first place anyways. And when he was in the middle of streaming and his Twitch chat started spamming the link to the blog post, he simply told his mods to delete comments that had anything to do with it.

Kenma was unfazed. Simply because it just wasn’t true. And even though the readers didn’t know if it was true or not and the article was currently trending in the Esports vertical and being repurposed for other articles, Kenma knew it wasn’t true and therefore did not care.

Except Akaashi was getting on his nerves as his manager continued to try to bring it up in conversations. 

“Kozume, you have to say something.”

“Why?” Kenma sighed. He really didn’t see the need to say anything. It wasn’t like this was the first time Kenma had been the subject of a rumor. It was all going to die down soon anyways.

“It’s been three days already and people are still commenting on it. Your fans are upset, and I think you owe it to them to explain your side.” 

“It’s not a big deal, Akaashi. If fans are that upset about a rumor of me boosting League accounts as a side business, they probably should get a job and hop off Twitter once in a while,” Kenma mumbled and continued to click away on his game controller.

“Well it’s not just your fans that are upset, Kozume. Your sponsorship with Black Sheep is also on rocks right now because of the rumor.” 

At that, Kenma’s fingers slowed, and he watched his character get headshot by the enemy on the TV.

“You’re telling me that they believe some stupid rumor that was probably written by a jealous 13-year-old?” Kenma scowled, and Akaashi finally felt his friend getting serious about the situation. It wasn’t often that Kenma showed his emotions other than his usual aloof self, but when his projects started to get affected, Kenma took things really serious.

“It’s not that they believe it, but they haven’t been as responsive to my emails as they usually are ever since the post was published. It seems they might be taking your silence as the truth.”

Kenma sighed and tossed his controller to the side. He wasn’t in the mood to game anymore. Instead, he stood up and trekked down the hallway towards his game room. Looks like he had a fire to diffuse if he wanted to keep his sponsorship alive.

end notes:

→ student debt and job security is no joke 😢

→ mattsun did not join y/n, oikawa, iwa-chan, and hanamaki during lunch because he was away on a photoshoot assignment

→ kenma did boost league accounts back when he was still in college and barely starting out as a streamer... except the accounts he boosted was kuroo’s and hinata’s because they wouldn’t stop begging him to until he did

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[mintchanniemint]

pairing: [still friends] bassist!chan x (fem)reader wordcount:  ~3.3k taglist: @100797-bc - @chansrms

[08:45 a.m]

"...So, since everyone seems ready and excited for this new project that involves more departments of our university, I think it's time to start! Be careful, everyone! And make sure to share all your thoughts with each other!" 

A wave of "yes, Prof." slowly lit up in the huge auditorium as every student sounded both tired and bored. You had to admit you strangely didn't really hate this project, you probably had to do worse things, like that time you ended up doing a cooking project and nearly poisoned that girl from the History Department. Whenever you reminded yourself of that little incident, you always made sure not to see her, not even accidentally in the college restrooms. But this time, the project not only sounded a bit safer, but you even ended up in a group with a certain someone. And that was the only reason why that morning you didn't fall asleep while the professor was giving you the guidelines and instructions for your tasks.  The project was related to the school systems around the world, and how they differed from each other, analysed under specific views. You were assigned a not-really-exciting topic, which was School Uniforms.  Now, you had to admit you felt quite lucky the university you were attending didn't force its students to have a uniform to wear, but just the thought of having to learn how to tie a tie made you fall asleep on the spot. 

"Hey."

Your train of thoughts got brutally interrupted by a way too familiar voice as you finally looked around, a bit confused, noticing that the hall was nearly empty. You looked in the direction of the voice that got your attention, to see a way too sleep deprived Bang Chan in front of you.  You couldn't help but giggle a bit, he sat down on the seat right in front of yours, crossing his arms on the chair and plopping his chin on them.  He looked at you for a couple of seconds, in silence, before slowly closing his eyes. 

"You really look like a cat, sometimes." You whispered with a smile, your hand automatically reaching his soft curls, playing with a brown strand of hair with two fingers. 

Wait… brown? 

"Chan, when did you dye your hair?" The alarm in your voice nearly made you sound a bit too concerned and he quickly looked at you, his eyes half open. 

"A couple of kids told me that I had to have a nice hair color for the project-" He then closed his eyes again, his head pushing a bit against your hand, as if asking you to keep playing with his hair. 

"They were so serious about it, but my red hair dye is not so cheap to be covered by some brown color so I just used some hair color spray." 

You looked at him, biting your lip trying your best not to burst out laughing. 

"Yes, that's such a Chan thing for you to do…" You mumbled to yourself, your voice clearly highlighting a smile on your lips. He hummed in response, probably asking you what you meant by that.  You shook your head and stood up, getting your bag from the seat next to yours. 

"C'mon, bass boy, we need to go and try the uniforms!" You said, trying to sound as exciting as possible, hoping to somehow give some life to that sleepyhead in front of you. 

"There's a reason why I always skip morning lectures." He mumbled, yawning and keeping his back on his shoulder. He followed you as you walked through the hallways of your department, not too familiar to him. 

"They said this is the class, right?" 

"Were you listening while that professor was assigning the classrooms to each group?" 

"Nah… not really." 

"Me neither." 

The both of you just looked at each other for a couple of seconds, as if mentally screaming and asking what to do if you got the wrong class.  Luckily enough, though, the door before you suddenly opened, revealing a black haired guy wearing round glasses, and a taller girl right behind him. They both looked at you, then the girl checked a pile of papers in her hands, nodding, and suddenly they smiled at you. 

"Welcome! We were waiting for you!"  The guy exclaimed, taking a couple of steps back and letting you and Chan enter the classroom.  It was empty, some desks were occupied by big boxes with black, confusing scribblings scribblings on them. 

"Those are the uniforms we are going to try, hopefully the sizes are gonna be fine! We thank you for submitting your essays and researching about school uniforms from various countries. Even though yours…" The guy mumbled, checking some of the papers the girl gave him, as he looked at Chan.  "... was submitted two minutes before the deadline. But we appreciate the effort! You also followed our little advice about your hair! " The girl interrupted her friend, trying not to make him say anything way too harsh. She smiled at Chan, getting his usual cold stare in response, which left her a bit confused. 

"Uh… yeah he really cares about this stuff, guys! Chan is just… not really good at expressing himself with words, yeah!"  You swiftly entered the little conversation too, probably making it worse since as a consequence you only got an embarrassing silence and four pairs of eyes looking at you. 

"Can we please see the uniforms now?"  You quickly whispered, nearly tripping over your own words as you felt your own mind screaming for five whole seconds. 

"Sure! Some students have already tried the uniforms they mentioned in their own essays and they're getting ready to take photos! We're really ambitious for this project!" 

"And we're sure that the magazine of this project will turn out amazing with our photos! Seungmin is gonna make you shine like models." 

They looked like those cartoon characters that completed each other's sentences, you couldn't help but find them a bit funny, though. Seeing them being so enthusiastic about this project made you feel a bit guilty too, since ten minutes earlier you were literally planning an escape with your fake-brown haired friend in case you didn’t get the right classroom.

You smiled at the two students in front of you and grabbed Chan by his arm, guiding him to a box on which you recognized your names were scribbled on with a black marker.  Other students, definitely more responsible than you and Chan fused together, told you about the stuff you had to do. It was quite simple: go to the improvised changing rooms, wear the uniform, take pictures. Write about your general thoughts and impressions of the project at the end of the day.  You just hoped Chan grasped all that, as he looked like he probably would have fallen asleep in the changing room. It didn't matter that much, you would have definitely helped him anyway. 

You two were given three uniforms, and since there would have been lunch break in a couple of hours, the students of your group were asked to wear one of those uniforms.  You didn't really understand why, but thinking about how other students had probably ended up in groups where they were supposed to cook, you felt quite lucky and didn't want to complain at all. 

Chan was given his first uniform to try, and he walked to the changing rooms to try it on quickly.  The photographer was taking quite some time taking those photos, and you didn't have to try the uniforms yet, since many other students were already waiting in line for the shoot. You just stood there, leaning on the wall, waiting for the moment Chan would have finally left that improvised changing room.  Suddenly, the black curtain moved and a not so amused Chan made his amazing appearance: he was wearing black trousers and a white shirt, a tie on his right hand.  He looked at you as he walked closer to you, and left the green and red tie on your hand. 

"I don't know how to do this."  He mumbled, as he finished buttoning his shirt up.  You looked at the piece of cloth in your hands and took a deep breath. 

"I don't know either but… Let's try, I guess?"  You mumbled in response as you brought the tie around his neck, trying your best to seem like you knew what you were doing.  Because of the little task you were asked to do, you had to get closer to Chan.  You could feel his calm, relaxed breath gently hitting your face as your eyes were completely focused on that tie. Suddenly you felt his hand resting on your waist when you finally figured out how to make that tie look presentable for the shoot. You felt quite proud of the result and, not minding too much about Chan's hand on your waist, you dragged him to the photoshoot corner. 

A cherry-red haired guy was there, a black bag right next to him, by his feet, as he was giving instructions about posing to a girl right in front of him. He then got his camera and, making sure everything was perfect, a loud "click" was heard. 

"Let's take a couple more. So we can, eventually, choose the best one!"  He smiled, getting a thumbs up by the girl who was temporarily his model.  Seungmin, hoping you got his name right, seemed quite professional, and it took you literally seconds to guess he was from the Arts Department. You felt quite out of place for a good minute, everyone around you seemed like they were genuinely interested in that project and then there was you, who didn't stay home just because that grumpy, quiet cat-owner sent that essay last minute and automatically made you want to go just to spend the day with him. 

Wow, that's embarrassing… And quite lame.

You shook your head, trying to let that thought drift off, when you suddenly heard someone call your name, announcing that you were able to try some of the uniforms you were assigned. You had to leave Chan's side, and you had to admit it felt way warmer when you had his arm around your waist. 

"It's my turn! Gotta go." 

"Make sure to button up the shirt properly." 

"Oh shut up."  You stuck your tongue out at him and you walked away, not before getting a gentle, quick squeeze on your waist by Chan, though. 

Okay, let's be honest. Both of us are embarrassing and lame… 

You mentally rolled your eyes at your own thoughts and quickly walked across the room to get your uniform, and headed towards the changing room.  You didn't have any problems trying the clothes on, the trousers felt quite comfortable and you also liked how pretty the colors were. You looked at your reflection on the mirror, which was probably lent by the drama club, and quietly wondered which country's school that was supposed to be. You didn't really remember, even though you were literally the one who wrote about it in that essay, but you just shrugged it off and left the changing room, your eyes quickly landing on the little photoshoot corner. 

It was Chan's turn, and that girl wasn't lying at all when she said that Seungmin was going to make everyone feel like a model. You nearly got caught staring at him and quickly walked closer to the queue of people standing, waiting for their turn to take photos.  Seungmin seemed not to let your friend go, he probably found a good subject to photograph. He took photos of him in at least four different poses when he usually asks for two poses per student. 

Chan left the spot with a small nod and walked away, leaving a satisfied Seungmin checking all the photos taken with his camera. Your friend quickly found you and walked closer to you, his eyes scanning the uniform you were wearing. 

"Looks nice."  He mumbled, one hand in the pocket of his trousers, the other one reaching a strand of hair that escaped from your ponytail. 

"Oh well, thank you school president."  You teased him with a smirk, before distractedly playing with his tie. 

As it was finally your turn to take the photos, you couldn't help but feel Chan's gaze constantly on you. Seungmin made you feel at ease in a matter of seconds and you had to admit the shots were really pretty. He clearly was working so hard to make everyone shine in those uniforms.  You thanked him with a smile and, followed by Chan, walked closer to those boxes containing other school uniforms.  You had to try three other pieces before the big clock on the wall finally signed that it was lunch break.  You were relieved half of the day had finally passed, but then you remembered you had to stay in that uniform you had just put on for the following two hours. 

"The last time I wore a uniform for school was ages ago!" 

"Wouldn't it be ten minutes ago?" 

"Chan, c’mon."  You sighed, exasperated, as you got your lunchbox from your bag and walked to the cafeteria with your friend.  You noticed the uniform he was wearing only when the two of you sat down at a table and looked at each other for a fraction of seconds. 

He was wearing a black turtleneck and a white shirt on it, his trousers were dark and looked more comfortable than the ones he had to wear for the second shoot. 

"What." 

Uh oh… caught staring… 

"Oh, nothing! It's just… well, at least you don't have to wear a tie, hm?"  You cleared your throat and looked around, your mind in complete alarm mode. 

What an idiot. 

Chan, in response, nodded and opened his lunchbox. Meaning that his whole interest was now on the food in front of him.  You sighed in relief, you both loved and hated how naive that guy was. Definitely a double-edged sword. You shook your head at those thoughts and quickly opened your lunchbox, enjoying your meal and Chan's company for lunch. 

"You know…"  You said, between some bites. "Don't we look like high school students?"  Your lips quickly curved into a silly smirk. 

Chan looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed.  "Isn't that part of the project-" 

"No, Chan, I mean! Doesn't… this! Make you wonder what high school life would have been like if we were, you know, classmates-”

"Not really." 

"Absolutely no fun."  You pouted, your little rainbow-colored dream was completely destroyed before it could have even reached its completion because of Chan's straightforwardness. 

The two of you chatted a bit after finishing your lunch and, since you had quite some time before returning to your team's classroom, you decided to go for a walk in the huge hallways of the university.  You didn't feel as uncomfortable as you thought you would a few hours earlier; the uniform you were wearing was quite nice and warm too, and you were glad Chan had brought a scarf that morning, since you forgot yours at home because you were in a hurry.  Even though he probably didn't even agree on that, you were wearing his scarf as you were walking down the hallways.  Many students greeted you and way too many people were literally staring at Chan. You raised your eyebrows at the guy next to you, wondering exactly what they were so fascinated about. 

Just wait till he opens your mouth, everyone. 

You lightly giggled at your own thought, finding your mind funnier than usual when suddenly you walked past a group of students that stopped you.  Specifically, that stopped Chan.  You were a few steps back, looking at them quietly as some of them, definitely freshmen, gave Chan a few little pieces of paper.  As the group of younger students walked away, Chan looked at you, his eyes literally filled with question marks. 

"Wow Chan, you show up for morning lectures once and the whole Literature department falls for you."  You commented with a dry laugh as you walked closer to him, checking the little notes in his hand. He shrugged and put them in the pocket of his trousers, leaving you speechless for a second. 

" Wait, you're not throwing them away?"

"No, what if they actually need some tutoring." 

"Chan are you serious-" 

He looked at you for a second, his fake brown hair slightly touching his eyes.  You sighed and shook your head, looking away for a second, when suddenly a huge thought hit you like a train. 

What was that? You really couldn't tell, but something was burning. You felt annoyed.  By what?  You really didn't know how to explain it.  What was that for?  You had to calm down, those were just random phone numbers on a piece of paper, it wasn’t like that guy was going to contact them anyway.  … right? 

Breathe. Take a deep breath, you really need it before you do something dumb. Don't be dumb, don't be dumb, he's just a friend after all, he can do whatever he wants. Do not do anything dumb.

"Are you okay?"  His usual, dull voice interrupted your thoughts for a second, making you notice you were actually holding quite tight on the scarf that was gently keeping you warm. 

Your eyes finally met him, and you stayed silent. Complete silence. For at least five seconds. Your mind was running, gosh it was sprinting. From one thought to the other.  And that weird burning was growing, and growing, and growing inside you.  Your eyes were analyzing every single detail of his face. His brown eyes, that weird dye that was covering his usual beautiful dark red hair, his plump, full lips, that black turtleneck. And again, his eyes, his lips, his hair, his turtleneck, the ears that were usually adorned with beautiful earrings that were now completely bare.  

And again, his eyes, lips, the turtleneck, his hair… 

When suddenly, your hands moved before your mind could even realize that. You grabbed him by his arm. That was completely normal, you literally had always done that. But that time, that time you were dragging him to a small, quiet corner, far from those annoying and busy hallways. You were now in a small hallway, near two broken vending machines and an emergency exit. 

"What is wrong with you?"  He mumbled, his voice clearly expressing his confusion. You said nothing, you just pinned him against the wall, his hands quickly finding their way on your waist, and you looked at him straight in the eyes. 

Your hand reached the collar of his black turtleneck, pulling it down with not much delicacy and your lips softly met his warm, sweet skin. He squeezed your waist as you angrily, but lightly, bit his neck, making sure to leave at least a small mark. You took a step back and looked at it for a second before fixing quickly both his turtleneck and shirt. Your eyes slowly met his, and moved to look at his cheeks, who were tinted in a light, pastel red color. 

"Please don't contact any of them."  You whispered, unexpectedly out of breath due to the adrenaline rush.  You didn't let him say nor do anything, you just took a few more steps back before walking away in a rush, headed to the classroom. 

Now. 

… 

What the hell did I just do?!

[mhalachai]

advance snippet: Updating Wednesdays on Patreon (The Untamed)

So. Do I need to write an Untamed modern!AU with a college twist (Lan Xichen is a music professor in Canada) in which Wei Wuxian attempts to self-therapy himself by creating a graphic novel fantasy AU version of his life (aka the real story of Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation) and Lan Xichen attempts to rebuild his life after a toxic relationship ended? I mean probably not but has that ever stopped me?  here’s the intro snippet we’ll see how things go.

(Title is tentatively Updating Wednesdays on Patreon because i don’t know what to call this thing)

~~

The first day of August finds Lan Xichen in a coffee shop, tinkering with the syllabus for his new music theory course, when his phone pings with a message.

> Lan Wangji: Brother.

> Lan Wangji: Wei Ying has asked me to inform you that he will be publishing the first collection of pages in his new graphic novel on Patreon this afternoon.

Lan Xichen smiles at Lan Wangji's tone. For all that his little brother is more verbose in electronic communication than verbal, he's always so exact.

> To Lan Wangji: Can't wait! What's it about?

The little cursor blinks for a while as Lan Wangji continues to type. Lan Xichen just hopes that his brother-in-law's creative enthusiasm isn't running up against Lan Wangji's sensibilities.

Finally, a reply appears.

> Lan Wangji: Wei Ying wants me to tell you that it is completely fictional.

This gives Lan Xichen pause. Why on earth would Wei Wuxian, or Lan Wangji himself for that matter, need to make that declaration?

> Lan Wangji: It is a high fantasy xianxia story.

Before Lan Xichen can ask why that is causing this odd message exchange, another notification pops up on his phone.

> Wei Wuxian: Lan Xichen! Lan Zhan types so slow! It's just a different art style I wanted to try out and it snowballed from there!

> Wei Wuxian: I know you follow me on Patreon so you're going to get the notification this afternoon so I wanted to warn you hahaha

> Wei Wuxian: All names and places are purely fictional. I don't really have a sword.

Another message arrives, with all the information Lan Xichen needs.

> Lan Wangji: This matters a great deal with Wei Ying.

Lan Xichen smiles at his brother's words. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have been together since their junior year of high school, through a great deal of personal difficulties on both sides, and are still as fiercely protective of each other as ever. He loves them both for it.

> To Lan Wangji: Thank you for the information. I'm sure it will be great.

> To Wei Wuxian: Can't wait to see it! Anything you do is always great.

No more messages arrive, so Lan Xichen goes back to considering how to change the quiz structure of his musical theory class to avoid a marking crisis with the evaluation of his ensemble class.

Finally, as Lan Wangji gathers up his papers to leave, one last message comes in on his phone.

> Lan Wangji: Thank you for your support. We all appreciate it.

Attached to the message is a photo taken of Lan Wangji's family, he and Wei Wuxian holding Lan Yuan between them. The toddler grins at the camera, his arms around Wei Wuxian's neck. Wei Wuxian's looks at the camera, dark circles under his eyes like he's working through the night again, while Lan Wangji only has eyes for his husband.

It's so wholesome and loving that a sliver of pain rakes through Lan Xichen's heart. He's happy for his brother. His brother deserves the world. Lan Wangji deserves being loved, and to love.

Not everyone gets that. Sometimes, that falls apart.

Sometimes, for some people, love is just an illusion.

Lan Xichen tucks his phone away and leaves the coffee shop.

~~

He gets home mid-afternoon, and spends a while stowing away the groceries he picked up on his walk. The neighbourhood has several Greek and Persian markets and he's able to buy most of what he needs on foot, saving the Chinese markets in Richmond for his weekly dim sum brunches with Lan Wangji's family when he can borrow the use of Lan Wangji's sensible and economical mini-van.

He doesn't drive any more, not since—

Lan Xichen stops and puts down the bag of avocados. His mind is a funny place, bringing up the oddest things at the most inconvenient of times.

He doesn't drive anymore. He doesn't need to, using the bus and the odd taxi to transport his instruments up to the university for performances. The public transit system is so much better.

Safer.

He goes back to putting away the vegetables, pulls out a cookbook (new, spine uncreased, bought for him by Lan Qiren for his birthday) and opens it at random. He's never had coconut curry salmon before, but he has all the ingredients.

Trying new things. He's supposed to be trying new things.

The recipes says it will only take half an hour to make, so he goes up to his office and turns on his computer to check his work email. The message fly fast and furious, some about the new department head, some about class enrollment, a few from students asking if they can get onto his waitlist. He replies to the most urgent, files the rest, then checks his personal email.

The notification from Wei Wuxian's Patreon is up, so Lan Xichen clicks it.

Then he sits back, frankly impressed. He's seen Wei Wuxian's comic style progress since the boy was drawing silly cartoons to entertain Lan Wangji in history class, but even he wasn't prepared for this.

The art is gorgeous. Stylized figures, intricate period costuming, rich backgrounds – it's truly a work of art.

Then he gets a better look the two characters' faces, and laughs out loud. It's Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, clear as day, with long hair and flowing robes. Wei Wuxian's even managed to capture that exasperated-yet-fond look Lan Wangji has whenever Wei Wuxian is being particularly loud.

The introduction is even better. "Join our hero Lan Wangji and dashing rogue Wei Wuxian as they battle deadly monsters and forge a path with demonic cultivation!"

Wei Wuxian hasn't even changed their names. True, he uses his mother's surname professionally, so Cangse Ying can't be easily tracked back, but still.

Lan Xichen wonders for a moment if Lan Wangji is okay with this, but then he notices that the project text is available in both English and in Chinese, with the Chinese written in Lan Wangji's style.

They worked on this together, then.

Trying not to think about why that makes his chest feel funny, Lan Xichen opens to the first page--

-- Which features a bruised and bloodied Wei Wuxian falling off a cliff while a horrified Lan Wangji screams after him.

Confused, Lan Xichen makes sure he hasn't accidentally read the last page first. No, this is the first. Still a little baffled, he clicks to the next page, sees the stylized banner that reads six years ago and relaxes. This is Wei Wuxian's style of using flashbacks to interrupt the narrative flow. Lan Xichen spent most of Lan Wangji's university years hearing his brother's despair for Wei Wuxian's artistic choices in essay form.

But enough about the past. Lan Xichen settles in to read the first chapter of the story, where Wei Wuxian and his siblings (Jiang Yanli drawn lovingly, Jiang Cheng with a bigger frown and more menacing eyebrows than Lan Xichen remembers) traveled to the Cloud Recesses (the sarcastic nickname Wei Wuxian gave to Lan Qiren's West Vancouver mansion) for cultivator lectures. Lan Xichen is there on the page, too, drawn taller and far more imposing than he is in real life.

The first encounter between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji is fantastical and improbable and, according to Lan Xichen's recollection, almost completely accurate. Wei Wuxian had mouthed off at Lan Wangji at the weekend orientation camp for their new arts high school, Lan Wangji glared the boy into submission, then later that night when Wei Wuxian tried to sneak back onto school grounds with alcohol, he and Lan Wangji had gotten into a fight. Verbal, instead of with swords, and without the supernatural murder victims, but Lan Xichen remembered everything else from Lan Wangji's indignant recitation on his return home.

He keeps reading, enjoying the art and the lyrical narration, and keeps enjoying it right up to the scene when Nie Huaisang appears on the page to offer Lan Qiren a present, Meng Yao standing right behind him.

Lan Xichen doesn't remember standing up, but here he is, two feet away from his computer, heart pounding. He hadn't—Why—

What was Meng Yao doing in a story about Wei Wuxian's high school years?

Taking a deep breath, Lan Xichen makes himself return to his desk. As far as he knew, he was the one who introduced Meng Yao to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, when the boys were in university and after he and Meng Yao started dating--

Lan Xichen can feel his heartbeat slow, as he tries to breathe. He needs to stop this foolishness over Meng Yao. They dated before living together for a while, that was all. They broke up. It happens to people all the time.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were in college for most of that time, anyway, living their lives. They barely knew Meng Yao, even if Wei Wuxian's sister married Meng Yao's half-brother. They couldn't know how badly Lan Xichen had messed up their relationship, how terrible he had been to live with. It was his fault that—

Stop.

Stop.

It's over. In the past. A story that has Meng Yao as a minor character isn't going to mess with Lan Xichen's head. He's not going to let it.

He exhales and makes himself look back at the screen.

Meng Yao only shows up a few more times. For some reason, he's the only character who isn't tagged with his own name. He's there handing over the present to Lan Qiren, standing in front of Nie Huaisang when the Wens arrive, then in two last panels in which he tells the on-screen Lan Xichen that he has to return to Nie Mingjue's side.

Lan Xichen's stomach sours. He and Nie Mingjue had been close, before Meng Yao came into Lan Xichen's life. After that, Lan Xichen hadn't had much time for anyone else. That was normal, Meng Yao always said. People in love only needed each other.

Lan Xichen picks up his phone, then puts it down. He can't ask Lan Wangji about this. It would be weird. Wei Wuxian must just be making artistic narrative choices.

The chapter ends soon after, with Wen Qing and Wen Ning welcomed grudgingly into Cloud Recesses. The next chapter is due up in two weeks, the page declares, and welcomes any comments or feedback. A few people are already posting, gushing over the art work and discussing the teaser from the opening page.

Wanting to be supportive, Lan Xichen writes a small review, complimenting the artistic style, the intricacies of the outfits, poses a query as to the different colour palettes between the first page (dark, red, menacing) and the flashback scenes in Cloud Recesses (light, airy, hopeful), then translates the comment into English and posts both versions up. If Lan Wangji is going though all the trouble of ensuring a bilingual experience, then he will too.

He should go start dinner, he really should, but some part of him is drawn back to the first panel in which Meng Yao appears. He's shorter than Lan Xichen remembers in life, the long hair and braids suiting his face.

It's been so long since Lan Xichen last saw Meng Yao. He's not sure what he's thinking. Is he wistful? Mournful? Sad?

He doesn't know. He never knows what he feels about Meng Yao, which was the problem. He's not normal about feelings. Even Lan Wangji, whose brain is a unique and complicated thing, looking for order and reason and patterns in an illogical and messy world, loves fiercely, feels passionately. Maybe he got all the love in the family, and Lan Xichen got stuck with the stunted and undergrown heart.

Stirring, he pages back to the first appearance of his on-screen twin. The Lan Xichen on the screen looks patient, kind, a smile hiding behind his eyes.

He hadn't realized this is how Wei Wuxian sees him.

He picks up his phone.

> To Wei Wuxian: What an incredible achievement! The art is amazing!

> To Wei Wuxian: Where is the story from? As it's a work of fiction and has nothing to do with your real life ;)

> Wei Wuxian: Oh hahahha the story is a collaboration of a bunch of ideas! I can't tell u more (sworn to secrecy by my collaborators) but so glad you like it!!!!!!

> To Lan Wangji: Did you do the writing? I love the dialogue.

> Lan Wangji: Wei Wuxian did most of the English. I made it better and did the translation.

> To Lan Wangji: Have you told uncle about this project?

> Lan Wangji: He prefers to speak of my composition achievements.

Lan Xichen puts his phone down and rubs his eyes. The old tension between Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji never goes away. It started in high school with Lan Qiren's disapproval of Wei Wuxian, continued into university with Lan Qiren's disapproval of Wei Wuxian as well as Lan Wangji's decision to attend a local university for musical studies instead of going to Julliard in Lan Xichen's footsteps, and outrage at the news that Lan Wangji asked Wei Wuxian to marry him before they even finished their undergraduate degrees.

The resulting years had been a long-standing cold war, with Lan Xichen trying to mediate in the middle. Even the arrival of Lan Yuan on the scene twenty months previous hadn't softened both sides into anything resembling ease.

If Lan Wangji doesn't want to tell their uncle that he and his husband are collaborating on a semi-biographical graphic novel, Lan Xichen isn't going to muddy the waters.

> To Lan Wangji: It sounds like you're enjoying the project.

> Lan Wangji: Working with Wei Ying on any project is enjoyable. I read that couples with young children should try to engage in a mutual hobby outside of parenting.

> To Lan Wangji: Very wise.

He wonders if he should ask about Meng Yao, types out a message to that effect, then deletes it.

> To Lan Wangji: I should start dinner – see you on the weekend for brunch?

>Lan Wangji: Yes.

Lan Xichen puts his phone down. The days are long in August and the sun still bright, but he's tired and he doesn't know why.

~~

anyway that’s where this whole disaster is going. new fandoms are fun. 

[thanksjro]

Dark Cybertron Chapter 6: This Sure is a Comic I’m Reading.

The Dinobots are chilling out by the standing Titan, because Slag went and got his ass kicked by the super death wave a few issues back.

Excuse me, Slug.

There’s real-world context for this change- you see, in England, the word “slag” is often used as a derogatory term. Specifically, it’s either used as a stand in for “prostitute” or “whore”, or in more of a generalized “I greatly dislike this person” sort of way. It’s typically aimed at women, which is likely why Arcee said something to him as opposed to anyone else.

This little exchange is interesting, since Dark Cybertron Chapter 6 was published in 2014. Our boy Slug here first showed up in the original cartoon, back in the 80s, and was in the Marvel UK comics, where they didn’t change his name. A good portion of the IDW creative team, including 50% of the writers for this event storyline, are also from the UK. Seems like someone finally got sick of calling a whole-ass robot dinosaur a slut.

Not that there’s anything wrong with enjoying casual sex, or being a sex worker, but slapping labels on other people without their input is sort of a shitty thing to do, especially when you’re doing it in a franchise typically aimed at younger audiences, and with a surprisingly large following in the UK, where that term is used.

Anyway, while this conversation was happening, the Titan moved, and when it did, it kicked up a shit-ton of dust. Astrotrain, who is laying off to the side with his legs and an arm off, offers Swoop his binoculars. When asked why the hell he has binoculars- which doesn’t seem so strange to me, given that they’re standard military equipment in a lot of places- he tries to explain that he’s got shit eyes, and didn’t want Megatron to know about them. This would be an interesting glimpse into the inner workings of the Decepticons and how they view disability, if Swoop actually gave a damn.

But he doesn’t.

So it’s not.

Swoop sees with his special eyes that the guys who went down into the Crystal City have escaped, and are currently trying to outrun the Titan, and also the title of this issue.

Watch out, that typography’s gonna fuckin’ get you!

The Dinobots start firing on the Titan, which does fuck-all, and Prowl yells at them to head for Iacon, since that’s where the Titan’s going. Bumblebee, Skywarp, and Megatron are revealed to be MIA. Bummer.

Over on that weird water planet the Lost Light landed on a few issues back, the Rod Pod gang have puttered into Metroplex’s eye socket, and are currently making a Fantastic Voyage. Getaway asks where the hell Metroplex’s eyeball got to, but nobody has an answer for him, least of all Metroplex. Strange happenings on this weird water planet.

Ratchet gives everyone the skinny on Titan physiology theory- thank god he came along on the trip so I could at least get a little lore to feed my brain through this slog.

So, Metroplex’s spark could actually be out right now. Even though the lights are still on, that doesn’t mean anyone’s actually home, because the power of his spark needs time to actually travel through the body, and it needs a lot more time than the average robot, because he’s just so goddamned big. Humans also need time for their animating force… or, uh, blood to travel through the body. This is why we have a pulse. If it was instantaneous, we wouldn’t, but we’d probably also explode, because our squishy little bodies wouldn’t be able to handle that shit.

The gang starts scanning for life signs, even though they’re not even sure if they’ll be able to pick anything up. Brainstorm theorizes that the water could be causing degradation to Metroplex’s body. Getaway is still stuck on the Rod Pod existing. He’s having a moment. He’s been having a moment, really, ever since he saw the damn thing.

The results from the life-scan come in, and it looks like Metroplex might actually be okay, because there’s a blip for everyone in the Rod Pod, plus one! Hooray!

Nobody tell them about the hanger-on who’s basically glued himself to the ass of the Pod. We’ll let them have this little win, if only for a moment.

Ratchet suggests they head for the brain to check things out. Brainstorm reads back the report on the water sample he took, holding his data pad as precariously as he possibly can as he does. There’s admium flakes in the water. Nobody knows what this means, so they try to call Swerve, who is a metallurgist, for his professional opinion. The call goes to voicemail. Pity, that.

The fellas show up at the cranium, and there’s a small issue; Metroplex’s brain isn’t there. It wasn’t yanked out, either- it’s clean as a whistle in there, all things considered. Next stop- the spark. Hopefully they can get there before all the lights go out, because it’s beginning to look rather grim for ol’ Plexy.

Back on Cybertron, Starscream is asking about the fatality rate of the death wave, which is a bit funny to read now that I’ve typed it out. Tankor- who is our tie-in issue character today- decides he’s going to start some shit with Starscream, even as people are evaporating around him in the medical center he’s volunteered to assist at. Starscream takes the verbal stripping down with a straight face, because at this point, it’s just par for the course for him. Being head honcho of a whole planet kinda sucks, as he’s quickly finding out.

Flatline, who is also here, makes a crack at Starscream’s expense, and Starscream decides that that’s going to be the straw that breaks his camel’s back, as he starts getting dangerously sarcastic with the guy. Too bad this isn’t the time for that, however, because the Titan just showed up at the city limits.

Wow, Titan really said “fuck those two guys on the left in particular.”

Over in the Dead Universe, it turns out that the massive fiery laser blast from last issue DIDN’T kill everyone, and doesn’t actually seem like it was ever intended to. I suppose it was some sort of transport beam that Nova Prime used for his entrance, like the dramatic bitch he is. That’s neat, I guess.

Hardhead’s pretty upset by Nightbeat’s betrayal, not that Nightbeat really cares- being brainwashed tends to have that effect. Hardhead starts slamming his skull against the containment cube, living up to his name and also making himself look like a fool. Cyclonus is beginning to regret agreeing to this trip. Orion Pax punches the wall and starts yelling at Nightbeat for being a traitor, pretty much breaking his hand in the process. Rodimus tries to get him to chill out, and gets a knuckle sandwich for his troubles.

Also, this whole thing is a ruse. Orion managed to crack the cube, and he’s gonna try to get them out, but he can only do it if Nightbeat doesn’t realize what’s going on. Once Rodimus is let in on the plan, he tries to butter up ol’ Ikea Johnson, who notices the very mysterious something that’s on Rodimus’ palm. The thing that’s NOT his forcefield generator, that we don’t get to know about just yet.

Seeing the mysterious something makes Nightbeat fall to his knees, clutching his head in pain. At least, that’s what Orion says happened. I don’t know what happened or why, or why Orion would fucking know what happened or why. Or even, really, if it was Orion making the claim in the first place.

Not even any feet to try to connect to characters. I’m just guessing on previous panels.

“Dark Cybertron” makes me so, so tired.

Anyway, Nova Prime tells everyone to get on their knees, lest he shoot them with his big honkin’ back turrets.

Back inside Metroplex, the fellas have exited the Rod Pod and are on the hunt for Metroplex’s spark. Someone’s gone and drawn arrows pointing in the direction of the spark chamber, though who exactly is a mystery. Lots of mystery going on this issue. The boys decide to see where the graffiti takes them, leaving the Rod Pod to whatever fate might befall it while they’re gone.

Nobody likes the Rod Pod very much.

Also, that hanger-on from earlier is still there. This’ll turn out great, surely!

We get treated to a double-page spread of Escher proportions, as the gang tries to traverse the inner workings of Metroplex, until they hit an arrow that seemingly hits a dead end. When they brute force their way through the ceiling, it’s bad news bears; they’re right back where they started. Whirl, our most volatile friend, takes out his frustration on the Rod Pod, only for more bad news to reveal itself: the Pod’s been rigged to explode by the hanger-on!

And that’s a series wrap on the Rod Pod Squad! Let’s give ‘em a hand, folks!

Back in the Dead Universe, Nova Prime is busy deadnaming Orion, and generally just being an asshole. He notices Cyclonus off in the corner, and starts being an asshole at him too, because that’s how Nova interacts with the world. It’s all he knows.

It’s at this point that Cyclonus gives Hardhead the signal, and Hardhead bashes through the crack in the cube. Too bad it reseals itself directly behind him. Hardhead goes to punch Nova Prime, and gets his hand crushed into pulp for his troubles. Then he dies, because that was his forcefield hand.

And that’s a series wrap on Hardhead!

Nova Prime informs everyone that he’ll be taking them to visit a pal of his.

You know, this reveal would be a hell of a lot more poignant if I could FUCKING TELL WHO THE SHIT THAT’S SUPPOSED TO BE.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss, Ch. 8

<- Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 ->

Summary: Snapshots of life with a fussy brat over the three-year time jump. Including: a few holiday specials. 

3,949 words

With the lease up on your apartment, Frederick invited you to move in with him. It seemed like the next logical step in your relationship, especially considering how frequently you slept there anyway—though he had to justify the choice by saying he “could not stand seeing you live in squalor.” The house was certainly big enough for two people (or several less-wealthy families).

It was nice living with him, because you lived very different lives. Rather than finding it stifling to be trapped in the same house, it was freeing that you could spend so much of the day apart���or weeks, as it often was, traveling for cases or book promotion tours—and yet always be connected by the home you would return to at the end of it all.

You were planets of the solar system orbiting the same sun. 

The stability of that was comforting. So much had changed—Will Graham left and cut ties with the FBI, Hannibal Lecter was imprisoned at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane where Alana Bloom now held Chilton’s old job, and you were considering following Will’s lead and pursuing new career options. It made you glad to have someone familiar to keep you company, and always be there when you needed him. 

For all the good, living with Frederick Chilton was not always easy. He was a shameless snob who did not believe in laundry chairs, and panicked when his state-of-the-art kitchen was filled with sugary cereals with cartoon characters on the box. There were many clashes of egos early on, some of which never fully disappeared. Now that his star was rising, he insisted you dress a certain way when you were to be seen in public together—particularly at any sort of publicity event or psychiatric conference, but anywhere really that he might be recognized. He was yours, and that meant you reflected upon him. He updated your entire wardrobe like you were starring in an episode of Queer Eye, and had your hair professionally styled.

You couldn’t even be annoyed at the controlling implications of it—you were never great at dressing professionally, and it was exciting to see yourself looking so sharp in the mirror. You could surrender that to him. He enjoyed sophisticated things, like the opera and restaurants where celebrities eat, and now you didn’t feel so out of place when you joined him.

“You actually look quite elegant,” he nodded in surprised approval at your new attire.

You stuck out your tongue.

“Do not tempt me with that,” he said with a feline wiggle of his shoulders. “We have engagements to get to, and I do not want to re-do my face.” He wrapped the hand not gripping a cane around your hip and kissed you, coaxing your naughty tongue into his mouth with a lustful growl.

Any time he was too fussy and judgmental to the point of being unkind, you were quite practiced at flicking him back down to earth. He rarely apologized, of course, but would look up and purse his lips in thought before admitting, “You may be right.”

He was a sassy bitch, but you knew that. It’s why you loved him.

You loved him.

You did. It was strange to realize how much you loved someone you used to hate, whose traits you would normally find incompatible with your own. He was a miserable little rich boy with a self-satisfied sneer, a flare for drama, and perpetually questionable ethics, yet you would do anything to keep him safe. You wanted to stay by his side forever.

And there was something to be said about his difficult personality when you were not on the receiving end of it. 

Being on his side was fun—his hand at your back as he verbally destroyed someone with a catty insinuation that left their eyes glowering with indignation. That used to be me, you thought. Now you were up on his throne with him, and the view was much better.

You wanted to stay through all the medications, physical therapy, and regular hospital visits to tweak his prosthetics and make sure his remaining organs were all still functioning properly. You wanted to stay even as you questioned how much of your affection for him was pity in disguise, as he had suggested the first time you slept with him in a fit of explosive passion—that you liked wounded birds.

If it was pity, and being pity meant you would have to leave, then you resolved to stuff your fingers in your ears and ignore it. No psychoanalysis would make you give him up. You wanted to keep orbiting the sun together.

  *****

Calliope music paraded through the air with aggressively cheerful pneumatic whistles that grabbed your eardrums and pulled them screaming into the 1920s. Shrieks, laughter, bells, and shouts rushed by.

Frederick Chilton stuck close beside you and mistrustfully held a greasy paper plate like it was a venomous snake.

It seemed only fair that in return for dressing up, you made him dress down and do normal-person things, like go to the county fair and eat deliciously greasy fried foods. It was like a cultural exchange program.

“Every moment I am not writing my next book is another moment the world goes without a groundbreaking revelation on the human psyche,” he had snipped when you first suggested the outing. He barely looked up from his computer, where he sat typing in a suave leather office chair.

“Oh come on, you owe me,” you persisted. “I am sick and tired of fancy museums and fancy restaurants and fancy psychiatric conventions. Next time we’re in a hotel, there should be Star Trek costumes involved!” He straightened like you’d shoved a rod up his spine, and you chuckled inwardly at his petty aversion to being seen at that type of convention. “Come on, it’s just the fair,” you rubbed his shoulders and he groaned with annoyance. “Nobody important will be there. You’ll be totally incognito. Be a commoner with me.”

“I suppose it is the least I can do,” he caved in at last, leaning his head back to rest on your chest, glancing up at you through his eyebrows. “Since it is so important to you, I shall partake of your proletariat festivities.”

“Don’t say proletariat when we’re at the fair, you bougie dork.”

He wore a plain black t-shirt, and his hair wasn’t quite as primly styled as usual, letting a few strands fly free. The less he stood out from the crowd, the less likely a professional acquaintance or fan would recognize him.

Even living with Chilton, it was rare to see him dressed so casually, and you had expected it to be disconcerting. Instead, you found yourself drooling. He was sexy in a suit, but so was everybody with the correct fit. The unstructured t-shirt hugged his broad chest and revealed those alarmingly muscular arms that were usually a secret hidden under sleeves.

It was odd seeing your private Chilton—reserved for nights and mornings—out in the world, and a reminder of how lucky you were.

He managed to look dapper even with powdered sugar on his shirt.

“Funnel cake?” he cringed, as if the word itself was in poor taste. “Are we certain this is food?”

“You are ridiculously hoity-toity.”

“I do enjoy the finer things in life,” he boasted in a smooth, self-congratulatory hum.

You were about to sass him when you realized his admiring eyes were fixed on you, and he wore an expectant smirk on his lips. Your scowl cracked open into a tender laugh, and you linked your arm with his, giving him a playful hip bump.

His eyes widened at you in mock horror. “You would attack a man with a cane?” He awaited your answer with that same peevish smirk, but you didn’t have anything clever on your tongue, so you pulled him into a kiss instead. He melted against your lips, having gotten what he wanted.

Frederick refused to go on any rides, citing safety concerns and his delicate viscera, but you perused a hundred breeds of chickens, pet the World’s Tallest Clydesdale, watched pigs racing, browsed local artwork, and sampled craft beers which he had to admit were pretty good. You paid far too much money to shoot water guns at a spinning target faster than other carnival-goers so you could win an oversize plush of a corgi, which turned out to be filled with disappointing foam stuffing.

After finally placing a piece of sugary fried dough in his mouth, his eyes closed, and when they opened again, he declared it “not terrible.” Then inhaled it and spent the rest of the fair surreptitiously looking for another funnel cake stand.

When you got home, he confessed, with his most stern and dignified demeanor, that he may have, perhaps had fun, juvenile as it was. Then he quietly suggested that he would make an excellent Spock.

  *****

“I am never going to be perfect enough for you, am I?” you cried after another petty argument over another petty thing like stacking the cups in the cupboard in precisely the correct order. “How do you live with me? It must drive you crazy.”

Months of feeling inadequate bubbled to the surface all at once. Everything he did was so controlled, so exact, you really did wonder why he would ever be with someone like you.

“No,” he frowned, and as he gently took your shoulders his heart was crumbling in his eyes. There was a sorry on the tip of his tongue, but this was not the lottery-winning occasion he would say the word itself. He didn’t need to. He would say it in other ways.

His warm lips pressed your forehead as he rubbed loving circles on your arms with his thumbs. “Do you know who was perfect? Hannibal. I would rather live with a hot mess than a cold-blooded monster. One of us should be warm, anyway,” he gave a self-deprecating smile. “I must do better to remember the beauty of imperfection, because you are perfect to me.”

  *****

The front door opened well after the sun had disappeared and the stars had begun to come out. Frederick came home drained and exhausted from being on his feet all day trying to dominate professional rivals who were all, in turn, out to get him.

Conferences were invigorating, an exciting place to strut one’s superiority, make connections, and scope out the competition… until they were not, and they became whichever circle of Hell it is that makes one have to continually defend oneself to people for whom one will never be good enough.

You looked up from the book you were reading. You didn’t get up from the couch cushion’s gravitational embrace, but smiled with stars in your eyes, and called, “Frederick!”

Home.

He crawled onto the couch next to you, and laid his head in your lap. You set the book aside and ran your fingers through his hair, listening to the sweet, sleepy noises of pleasure the action evoked. Fantasies of this moment had kept him alive all day. You caressed his neck and the prickly stubble along the side of his jaw, and he turned his face into your palm and kissed it. He adored the way you touched him with your gentle, caring hands. Yawning, you reclined into the deep, plush cushions, and he shifted so you were both laying next to each other, content in each other’s embrace. He cuddled into your chest, face buried in your shirt.

“You smell like tacos.”

It was unclear how peevishly he intended the observation, so you simply replied, “I made tacos for dinner.”

“The cheap American kind that are nothing but ground beef, shredded cheese, and an insult to Mexican culture,” he said, voice muffled by the fabric.

“Mm-hmm,” you said.

“They are not real food.”

“Do you want some?”

“God, yes.”

  *****

With physical therapy, Chilton was finally able to walk comfortably without assistance again.

Technically, he had been able to for a long time. The cane was a crutch—in the figurative, not the literal, sense. In the literal sense it was very much not a crutch, or even a cane. At best, it was an expensive, silver-topped walking stick. He clung to it like a security blanket, or as a prop to garner pity, or simply because it was a dramatic accessory. The threat of physical therapy simply convinced him to let go of the pretense.

Like the spiral staircases of his home, some things about Dr. Chilton were fussy and theatrical for no reason.

It was almost a shame, you thought. That thing was the epitome of his dapper style (he might as well put on tap shoes, a top hat, and put on the Ritz with Fred Astaire), and it brought to mind such kinky images.

It was not one of those lightweight BDSM canes, and therefore was far too heavy to do any spanking with, assuming you wanted to be able to sit down any time in the next month. However, you recalled with some excitement his tapping it on the inside of your heels to get you to spread your legs open, using the pommel to gently tip your chin up to him, or running it slowly along the inside of your thighs.

You would miss that cane.

You still argued sometimes—but not as often. You were accustomed to his haughtiness and felt less need to try and change it, and he knew you well enough to relax when the two of you were alone. He took your advice that life was not a competition... but only when it came to you, not to his career and public reputation.

He was still obsessed with proving his superiority to the world. Still obsessed with seeing Hannibal Lecter grow old and feeble inside a cell. Those edges were so integrally a part of him you could never smooth them out.

  *****

You were good for his book tour.

Though he never raised his voice or threw insults around, Chilton still had the journalist sitting in your living room on edge. She gripped the recording device harder, nails turning white. Flanked by imposing towers of leather-bound books, he stared her down like a shark, bragging about his psychiatric achievements and describing grizzly details of the Lecter case with a heartless detachment—he smirked when the more graphic parts made her squeamish.

Dr. Chilton was (contrary to his own opinion) not the best mind in the psychiatric field, but there was one thing he was the preeminent expert in, and that was leaving people with the impression that he was a callous douchebag who thought he was better than everyone else. Which was more or less accurate.

When you entered the room, his whole demeanor softened.

“Hey honey,” you poked your head in with a plate of cookies. “Sorry, I didn’t know you had that interview today. Should I come back later?”

“Nonsense, darling, come in.”

The haughty stare he’d been giving the journalist broke and turned to a warm gaze and a kind smile as he crossed the room to escort you in, his hand on the small of your back. You sat down on the sofa next to him, and set the plate of good-will-bribery cookies down on the coffee table between you and the journalist. She politely refused, at least until the recording was over, but instantly seemed more relaxed, loosing her death-vice on the recorder. You quietly leaned your head on Frederick’s shoulder and discreetly clasped his hand on the cushion between you through the rest of the interview, which he spent blushing and unable to maintain the coldness of his stare.

You brought out a side of him few were able to see. Whenever you made an appearance during his book promotions, the article published was always just a bit more favorable.

  *****

“Gotta go!” you called across the house, slinging a pack over your shoulders. Dawn was barely cresting the purple sky, and Frederick was barely awake. He didn’t even have his prosthetic maxilla in yet; he was only up to say goodbye. ��I’m going to be in the field for ten hours straight today!” You thought about that for a moment, and groaned with anticipated exhaustion. 

“You have water?” 

“Yes, mom.”

“You cannot blame me for worrying,” he smiled with some pride at his gallant adventurer. You were wild in ways he would never understand, and it terrified as much as thrilled him. He smoothed a few wrinkles out of your shirt—a rugged garment for outdoor wear—and said you looked presentable enough for what you were doing. You kissed him, and wished him luck with the book signing he was attending that day. 

He wandered into the kitchen to search for breakfast, when an idea occurred to him.

“Take some of my meal-replacement bars,” he offered, opening the pantry. He had the organic superfood detox variety that he was able to digest. 

“I already did, thanks!”

He sighed with annoyance. “I noticed. It looks like an animal went through the packaging.”

“You love me,” you grinned cheekily in the doorway.

He prowled up to you, eyes narrow, trapping you against the door. He growled. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing you and sucking a small bruise just under your collar. Yeah, he loved you. You purred, arching your back so you were pressed more firmly against him, and breathed in his scent. If only you didn’t have to leave.

“Come home safe.”

  *****

Halloween was your favorite holiday. Perhaps it was gauche for one involved in investigating real murders, and real dead people, but then, that might have been what made it so appealing—on Halloween, all the blood was corn syrup, the skeletons danced to 80’s rock, and the serial killers wore their identities on their sleeves and carried plastic weapons. It had been your favorite holiday as a kid, and it still was.

“No.”

“Please?” you begged, drawing out the E. “It would be so awesome!”

“No.”

“But—”

“I am a bestselling author. An esteemed expert in my field. I will not be subjected to such an undignified, childish display.”

“But you would have the best costume and nobody would know!”

He wasn’t sure how you talked him into it. It must have those adorable pleading eyes he could never resist, or the enticing appeal to his ego that it would be an extraordinary costume, certain to leave everyone guessing how the effect was done. Somehow, he was walking into a Halloween party as a zombie. Without his contact lens or prosthetic jaw.

He frowned. It was humiliating.

You were dressed as an apocalypse survivor with an infected bite, and were hamming it up, telling the other guests you were fine, totally fine, with a shaky panic-edged voice and a tremor in your limbs. You had done an impressive job on the makeup, too, giving your complexion a sallow haze and reddened eyes. The bite itself was a gory masterpiece constructed from latex and tissue paper, with dark veins spider-webbing up your arm.

He didn’t have to ham it up. He only needed to walk in the room and Shrek and Fiona, Pennywise the clown, and a sexy velociraptor all gasped in horror at his face. How was that meant to make him feel?

“So cool!” someone said before he could turn on his heel and walk out of there. Words like, “There isn’t a contest, is there? I should have put in more effort,” and “did you hire a movie SFX artist? No fair,” started to get tossed around—including toward costume elements that you had designed and had nothing to do with his natural grotesqueness. Then they offered him a drink and moved on to the next impressive costumes and regular party chatter.

You were right. Nobody knew it was real, and while it stung to be stared at and called grisly—you would later apologize profusely for being too gung-ho and not thinking through what would happen—he had never imaged being able to have a normal conversation in public with his real face exposed. There was something daringly vulnerable about it. He had never imagined not being ashamed, but at least in this niche context, his old injury made him the leading man of the evening.

By the end of the night he got so into it, he was chasing you around snarling for your brains, and getting a kick out of scaring trick-or-treaters.

  *****

He took you to Paris for Valentine’s day. Last time it was Italy, and you strangely suspected he was touring the shadow of Hannibal Lecter as much as he was trying to impress you. You had suspected, that is, until you asked, and he rather bluntly admitted to it. He hadn’t expected you not to notice by the time you got to Florence, although Venice had been purely about romance (he loved all those touristy gondola rides that he swore he hated and were just for your benefit).

Now that he finally had the chance to lavish his considerable means upon someone, he was throwing himself heart and soul into the holiday, and would not stop until he had spoiled you senseless. When he was single and accustomed to spending the day alone, he used to loathe February 14th—Valentine’s had seemed a cruel joke directed specifically at him. He couldn’t even spitefully ignore it by staying late at work, because the more perceptive inmates always took notice.

“You do not know hell,” he told you, “until a man convicted of raping his mother’s severed head taunts you about your lack of sex life.”

This year, he treated you to everything Paris had to offer: the Louvre, Notre Dame, an opera at Palais Garnier, a morning stroll through the gardens of Versailles, delicious bakeries, cafes, chocolate, and macrons. You insisted upon seeing the Catacombs, of course.

When you went to the Eiffel Tower and he showed up with roses and dinner reservations for sunset in its refined first-floor restaurant, your gut clenched. You were terrified he was going to propose. Of course he would make a grand gesture! You carefully inspected every champagne glass for hidden engagement rings, but found only bubbles. After dinner, when you ascended to the top of the tower to watch Paris light up at night, you knew that was when the proposal was coming.

But it didn’t. And you found yourself disappointed.

You had never talked about it, so there was no reason to assume it was something he wanted. It seemed far too soon to you, too, until it was snatched away and you realized that after three years together, you still couldn’t imagine wanting a life without him in it.

Arriving home at last, you breathed a sigh of relief into the still air. Paris was exciting and rich with history, but you were glad to be home in the peaceful familiarity of that snobbishly oversized house with its ridiculously spiraling staircases and its somewhat-less-fastidiously-pristine rooms, which now accommodated both of your things. All of the picture frames that once held impersonal stock photos displayed real snapshots of your lives together.

You weren’t even going to shower. You were so tired, you just wanted to rip all your clothes off and drop into bed. Frederick pulled his tie off. Hair frumpy from the long plane and taxi rides, his fingers worked to undo the top buttons of his shirt as he lumbered to the bath. He stopped at the door and turned back. You were taking a sip of water before leaving the cup on your nightstand.

“Marry me?” he said.

[calpalirwin]

Heart Wins

Summary: Single dad Michael hires a babysitter for his son.

A/N: Not the collab! Ha! Could you imagine?

Word Count: 2.4k

And away, and away we go!

__

“So, I would just need someone to watch him during the day so I can get some studio time in,” Michael told Maya. “I mean, he’s pretty lowkey. Likes to swim in the pool, watch cartoons, basic little kid stuff. I’ll try to keep my schedule as regular as possible, but there might be times I’ll ask you if you can stay later or even help me out on weekends if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem,” Maya smiled. “And the studio is where?”

“Here, mostly. We try to do what we can at our own places before paying out the ass for ‘professional’ studio time. And since I have Tidus, we usually work here. I just can’t be focused on working with them and watching Tidus at the same time. I mean, it’s not glorious or anything on your end. But, like I said, the kid’s pretty lowkey. And you’ll have the run of the place, so feel free to do whatever. But yeah… any, uh, questions?”

“Um, no I don’t- oh! What happens when you go off on tour?”

“I double your pay?” Michael laughed. “Honestly, I’m not too sure. I’m not set to leave anywhere for about another four months, so if you haven’t run for the hills for something better we can discuss it more then?”

Maya nodded, looking around the house wondering why on Earth she would ever want to give up a sweet ass job like this. “Works for me.”

“Alright,” Michael said, clapping his hands against his thighs and standing up. “I guess I’ll just show you where Tidus is, and leave you guys to it.”

She followed him through the house, up the stairs to a bedroom that had been converted into a playroom. A little boy of no more than 3 or 4 sat in the middle of a comfortable looking couch, his attention held by the cartoon playing on the large television. “Ti,” Michael got the boy’s attention. “This is Maya. She’s gonna watch you for a bit. Can you say hi?”

“Hi,”

“Hey, bud. Whatcha watchin’?” she asked, moving around to sit beside him.

“Pokemon!”

“Oh, cool! I love Pokemon. Who’s your favorite?”

“Pikachu.”

Michael smiled. “Alright, Ti. Maya’s the boss.”

“‘Kay.”

“I’ll be in the basement if you need me for anything,” Michael directed the statement at Maya. “Other than that, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you, Michael.”

~~~

“Maya,” a small voice whispered. “Psst… Maya!”

“Mmm? Wha?” Maya asked, yawning and opening her eyes to find a pair of light green eyes peering back at her under a cloud of soft yellow hair. “AAAHHHH!” She retreated to where her bed met the wall. “Tidus, are you tryin’ to kill me?!”

The six year old laughed. “Sorry… Dad said I wasn’t supposed to wake you…”

“But why would you do a silly thing like listen to your dad?” she questioned with her own laugh.

“Exactly! He’s not the boss of me. You are!”

“Nice save, kid.” She threw back the covers and sat up. “You want pancakes don’t ya?”

“Yes, please!”

“Alright. Your dad in the studio with your uncles?”

“They were there all night!” Tidus told her dramatically as they walked downstairs to the kitchen.

She frowned as she tried to remember what time her phone had said when she finally heard Michael’s footsteps on the stairs and the close of his door. Close to 2 am she was sure. And he’d probably only slept for a few hours before heading back down. He probably hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, too close to a break through with the newest album to focus on much else. “Do you think they’re hungry?” she asked the boy.

“We’re gonna have to make the whole box,” Tidus giggled.

“Then let’s make the whole box.”

“Can we make a bunch of different kinds?!”

“Of course we can!”

“Whoohoo!”

A half hour and at least six different types of pancakes later, Maya and Tidus made their way to the basement studio. Tidus carefully carried the stack of plates while Maya held the platter of assorted pancakes, a bottle of syrup tucked under her arm. “Knock knock!” they yelled loudly. “Special delivery!” Maya kept up with it as she let them into the room.

The four adult men turned their heads at the intrusion. “That’s a lot of pancakes,” Michael spoke first, stepping forward to help Tidus with the plates before he dropped them.

“Yeah, we went a little overboard,” Maya responded, setting down the platter on the little table in the room. “Figured you guys must be starving.”

“You figured right. Thanks.”

“Oh, I just made the food. Was Ti’s idea.”

“Ti…” Michael said sternly to his son. “I told you to let her sleep.”

“But you said Maya was the boss. You never said I had to listen to you, too.”

Ashton, Calum, Luke, and Maya snickered into their hands as Michael’s green eyes went wide for a second. “What are you? An elephant?”

Tidus put his arm against his nose like a trunk and made his best elephant noise.

“Well in the future, Elephant Boy, you should listen to me, too. I am your dad after all.”

“10-4, boss man!” the boy chirped.

“What in th-?” Michael chuckled, looking over at Maya.

“No idea, boss man,” Maya laughed back. “Well…” she gestured at all the food. “Dig in!”

~~~

“So,” Calum asked, wiping away the last traces of sticky syrup after Maya and Tidus made their way back upstairs. “How long has Maya been watching Ti?”

“Uh…” Michael thought quickly. “‘Bout two years.”

“Mhm… And how long has she lived here?”

“She moved in right after the first tour, so a little over a year.”

“And she’s good with Ti?”

“Oh, she’s great with him. I’d be lost without her.”

“So, you’ve known her for two years. She’s lived with you for one. And she’s great with your kid,” Calum recapped.

“Yeah… That’s what I just said.”

“What Cal’s trying to say,” Ashton cut in, “is have you slept with her yet? And if not, can he?”

“What the fuck?!” Michael screeched at the same time Calum shoved Ashton with a “That is not my question!”

“Is too! Maybe not the sleeping with her yourself part. But the first part’s true. We’re all wondering, mate,” Luke piped up.

“What the fuck?!” Michael repeated, looking at his friends, slack jawed. “What kinda question is that? No, I haven’t slept with her!”

“Why not?”

“She’s Ti’s babysitter!”

“So?”

“So I’m basically her boss, you nitwits! I’m not fuckin’ the babysitter,” he growled.

“Alright, alright,” the other three held up their hands in surrender.

“And neither are any of you lot!” Michael added.

~~~

“Hey, Maya?” Tidus asked as they watched cartoons.

“Yeah, bud?”

“My dad goes on dates, right? To find me a mom?”

She blinked. She had been expecting him to ask if they could go swimming,or play with Legos, not have the Mom conversation. “Uh… well… yeah, your dad goes on dates. But he’s not trying to replace your mom.”

“No, I know that. But like, he’s trying to find someone that would love us like a mom would. Right?”

“Right. He just wants someone who’s gonna love you as much as he does.”

“So, why doesn’t he take you out on a date?”

Maya choked. “Uh… it’s not that simple, bud.”

“Well, why not? I mean, you’re here. And you don’t get mad at me when I wake you up to make pancakes. And you take me swimming, and watch cartoons with me. And you help in my classroom like all the other moms. Is it cuz you don’t love me?”

“What?! Of course I love you, you goof!”

“So, why can’t you date Dad and be my mom?”

Maya sighed. “It’s not that simple, Ti. Your dad and I have a different relationship.”

“Oh… Will you still stay if I do get a mom?”

“Of course I’ll stay!” she told him, even though she really had no way of knowing. She supposed it would depend on what the new woman did for a living herself, and how comfortable she would be with Maya staying in the house.

“Cool. Cuz me and Dad really like you here.”

“Dad and I,” she corrected absentmindedly.

“Dad and I,” he repeated. “Do you like being with us?”

“No place I’d rather be,” she grinned at him.

~~~

Michael’s head swam with his conversation with his bandmates. Yes, him and Maya got along with each other. Yes, Michael had come to view the woman as not only an integral part of his life, but also as part of the family. Maya had been there for every moment him and Tidus had over the last two years. And she was pretty in a way that often left him breathless, whether she was in a tank top and pajama bottoms with her hair slightly ruffled from sleep, or totally dolled up in a way befitting of magazine covers. But this wasn’t some friendship that could handle a little awkwardness. There were so many ways things could go with too many options for how it could end, each one worse than the last. And to risk it all over a maybe crush? No. It was far better to keep his mouth shut.

Unbeknownst for Michael, Maya’s own head had been swimming with her own equally conflicted thoughts that matched his own. “Hey, Michael,” her soft voice greeted him in the dark hallway.

“Shit!” he whisper-screamed, hand flying to his chest. “Fuck… didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya…”

“Nah, it’s…” he shook his head. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” it was her turn to shake her head. “Was just about to turn in.”

“Oh… well, night then.”

“Night,” she murmured, feeling his body brush past hers. “Hey, Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“Um… can we talk a moment? Ti said something earlier that you should probably be aware of.”

“Yeah, course. C’mon, we can talk in here.” He led them both into his bedroom, flicking on the light. “Is everything alright?” he asked as he sat on the edge of his bed, patting the space next to him.

“Oh, it’s not bad! Just… curious,” she told him as she sat beside him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he mentioned you dating.”

“Aw, shit… I guess I didn’t explain that to him as well as I thought I did…”

“No, no,” Maya shook her head. “He understands. Well, as much as any six year old can anyway. It’s, uh… well he brought up something that I just can’t seem to shake.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… um… and I’m not asking to put you on the spot or anything. It’s just…”

“Curious?” he supplied.

“Yeah. Um… what happens when one of these women becomes your long-term girlfriend or wife? Like… what would that mean for me?”

Michael leaned back on his arms. “Shit… Tidus came up with that?”

“Well, he asked if I would stay. I sort of filled in the rest.”

Michael nodded. Then, “What would you do? If it weren’t for this, what would you be doing?”

She shrugged. “Probably teach. I don’t think I’d have it in me to get invested in another family like I am with you guys.”

He nodded again. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to see you go.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiled before laughing. “Aw shit. That explains a lot actually.” He kept laughing.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, not getting the joke.

“I’m the single dad with a live-in babysitter. No wonder all my dates end horribly.”

“Oh geez!” she laughed with him. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. That’s just…”

“Utterly ridiculous?”

“That’s terrible. Like this is my job. Sorry it’s ruining your dates.”

“Nah, it’s not your fault. Guess some people are just immature. Like I couldn’t possibly resist the temptation of having a beautiful woman in my home.”

“Beautiful woman?” she blinked, turning her head to look at Michael with his flushed cheeks.

“I- I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushed. “I mean, you are. Beautiful. But I- no. I should stop talking now.”

“No. What were you gonna say?”

“Well… I mean I pay you to be here. It’s not like you’re here because you want to be. I mean, maybe you do now. I hope anyway. But, like you’re here because you’re doing a job. If I wasn’t paying you I doubt you’d stay.”

“Well I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t pay me because I already feel bad enough you let me live here rent free. Not because I don’t want to be here.”

“Well, I appreciate the sentiment. But, this is all hypothetical. I need to find a girl who won’t run away once she realizes what my life really entails first.”

Maya brought a finger to her lips in thought. “Hmm… yeah, good luck with that one.”

Michael laughed. “Yeah. So if you have any friends who are understanding like you, lemme know.”

She laughed with him. “Sorry. Just me, I’m afraid.”

“Bummer…”

“Ouch!” She swatted his arm playfully. “You’d be lucky to have me.”

“I am lucky to have you,” he corrected. “But… we…” he pointed back and forth between them. “It’d be stupid.”

“Terribly stupid,” she sighed in agreement. “Or at least that’s what I told Tidus when he asked. Well, I said it wasn’t simple. But same thing.”

Michael choked. “He asked you what?”

“He asked why you didn’t take me out. Since how you’re trying to find a woman that loves him as much as you do.”

“Shit… how’d that kid get so smart?”

“No idea,” she joked. “Must be his babysitter.”

“Can’t be me, that’s for damn sure. If I was smart, I’d know what to do right now.”

“What's your brain saying?”

“To shut up, go to bed, and to keep trying to make it work with other women the way it already works with you so I don’t fuck up a good thing.”

“And your heart?”

“To take the risk anyway because at least then maybe I’ll have a clear answer.”

“And which are you gonna listen to?”

“No idea.”

“That makes two of us.” Maya patted his leg as she stood up. “G’night, Michael.”

“Wait,” he said, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. “Two of us? You feel this way too?”

“Course I do. But that doesn’t matter. Does it?”

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself, tugging on her wrist so she fell down on his lap. “Heart wins.” His fingers stroked gently up her cheeks as he cradled her face in his hands, his lips brushing against hers.

She sighed into the kiss, tangling her own fingers in his soft hair, changing positions so she was straddling his lap. “Heart wins,” she agreed against his lips, as she started to pull away. “We can figure out the rest later.”

“Agreed,” he nodded frantically, green eyes shining brightly. “Fuck, c’mere.”

__

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[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: A Devil in the Details

AU-gust Day Four: Angels and Demons AU Fandom: Once Upon A Time / The Tournament Pairing: Macacey

Rated: G

Summary: Joseph has received his first assignment as a guardian angel. He’s absolutely not prepared for Lacey, the devil on the shoulder he has been paired with.

===

A Devil in the Details

To say that Joseph was a bit nervous about meeting his partner for his first earthly assignment would be putting it mildly. As if he didn’t have enough other things to worry about, like navigating the mortal world having only ever seen it from the safety of heaven before, he was now about to meet an Actual Demon in the flesh.

It was the way that it had always worked for centuries. Since the dawn of time in fact. Every human had a guardian angel and every human had a devil on their shoulder. Since these two ethereal forces would be spending an awful lot of time together, it made sense for them to meet their partners before the work began and they started having to work opposite each other to influence their human.

Joseph was still not entirely sure how that was supposed to work. After all, they weren’t supposed to be friends. They were on opposite sides and at best would be cancelling each other out. At worst it was a competition to see who could have the most influence, and he would lose. He was not and never had been a particularly commanding presence and having never met a demon before, he had all sorts of pre-conceived notions about how powerful they were.

He would admit that they did have some small mercies when it came to navigating the human world. First of all, of course, was that they weren’t generally visible to anyone unless they needed to be. They were always visible to their opposite number, unfortunately, and they were visible to their human on the occasions that called for it, but generally, they could pass through the world unnoticed which made things much easier.

Of course, this was also a downside in that Joseph knew that there were several million other angels watching over several million other humans, and he wouldn’t be able to see any of them to ask for their advice if it came down to it. Being invisible also meant, by proxy, being alone. Well, alone with a demon. He wasn’t sure how much of a blessing this advantage actually was.

Also, if the only other person that he could really interact with on a regular basis down here was a demon, then he thought he would run out of conversation topics fairly quickly. What did demons even talk about? What did they look like?

Presumably, they looked just like he did. Well, not just like he did. He’d been assigned this body when he’d been selected for guardian angel duty. Before that, he hadn’t had a physical form, so he hadn’t really looked like anything. Each body was unique, just like each human body was. It would make sense for demons to be assigned human bodies as well, sparing the humans the fright of seeing demons in their true forms if nothing else.

Although, that said, since they were virtually invisible, perhaps he would be meeting with a horror after all. It would certainly make his job an awful lot easier if every time his human had to make a decision, they were faced with the choice of listening to the normal-looking angel or listening to the thing that looked like a nightmare.

Actually, maybe fear would push them towards the nightmare after all.

Very aware that he was overthinking things horrifically and wondering why all the other guardian angels whom he’d met in his time before descending to earth had been so enamoured by their assignments, Joseph entered the diner where it had been arranged that his colleague from downstairs would meet him.

He looked around, wondering if it would look more out of place to find a seat and wait, or if he ought to just hang around by the door instead. A part of him was favouring a quick exit. He wasn’t visible yet. He could duck out and no-one would be any the wiser.

Well, apart from the young woman in the booth halfway down the diner who was waving to him enthusiastically.

He looked behind him in the vain hope that she was human and waving to someone else, but no, her attention was definitely focussed on him.

“Hey, Angel!” she yelled across the diner. No one else who was eating seemed to be in the slightest bit disturbed by her hollering. “Over here!”

There was no getting out of it now. Joseph made his way towards the booth and sat down opposite her.

She grinned at him over her stack of pancakes and bacon, holding out a hand. “You must be the man from upstairs. I’m Lacey, pleased to meet you. Try a pancake, they’re amazing. You know, I couldn’t see the attraction in hanging around up here all the time; I had no idea why everyone else was raving about it until I tried food for the first time. You’ll love it, go on.”

She pushed the plate towards him with her other hand as Joseph tentatively shook the offered one.

“So, what do I call you then? I can’t just go around yelling ‘Angel’ every time I want to get your attention.”

“Erm, Joseph.”

“Well then, Erm-Joseph, welcome to The World. Is this your first time?”

On the one hand, he didn’t really want to admit his inexperience, but on the other hand, Joseph knew that he was a terrible liar. All angels were. That was definitely the other side’s speciality. He nodded.

“Mine too. Seriously, try a pancake.” She pressed the fork into his hand.

He wasn’t going to get away without partaking; he could already tell that Lacey was incredibly persistent. He took the fork, using it to pick up a piece of pancake. He supposed it made sense to sample human food. He was still getting used to this body and the way it worked. They had told him, before his assignment, that he wouldn’t necessarily need to eat, that the body would sustain itself since it was only really half there, existing on a different plane to the rest of the humans so as to maintain invisibility. But, if he chose to participate in human life fully, then there was nothing to stop him experimenting.

Joseph wasn’t sure he was too enamoured by the idea of experimenting with food, but he couldn’t deny that humans definitely seemed to enjoy eating and had built up an entire culture around the sharing of meals. It was one of the most human things that they could do.

He took a bite, surprised to find that he liked the taste. He’d been dubious, sure that something that was delicious to a demon couldn’t possibly be palatable to an angel. Perhaps the two sides had more in common than they thought.

“It’s good,” he agreed.

“I know. I’m really looking forward to going out for pina coladas.”

“Our charge is a ten-year-old boy,” Joseph pointed out. “He’s not likely to be going out for pina coladas any time soon.”

Lacey waved away his concerns. “He can have a milkshake, it’ll be fine. Anyway, I guess we have to find him first before we can take him out on the town.”

Joseph shook his head in despair. “They did tell you what this assignment entails, didn’t they?”

“Of course.” Lacey grinned. “We sit back, we watch, and we influence his decisions. Hey, do you think we can get really small and actually sit on his shoulders like they do in the cartoons? That would be amazing.”

“I don’t think…” He tailed off as Lacey’s grin fell and she became alert, peering around him as the diner door opened.

“There he is,” she said. “One human of ours at twelve o’clock. Your six.”

Joseph twisted and looked over his shoulder at the family that had just come into the diner – mother, father and ten-year-old Henry Swan, their sole concern and objective during their time on earth. He glanced back to Lacey, but she was still absorbed by their charge, and for all his despairing, he had to admire the way that she had gone from teasing to professional within a split second. He should probably start giving her a little more credit if they were going to be working together for any length of time.

Eventually, once the family were seated in another booth and their food had been ordered, Lacey turned her attention back to Joseph.

“Well, they’ll be here for a while yet. I think that you and I have a bit of time to get to know each other.”

There was something distinctly predatory in her smile, and Joseph gulped. Although he was already beginning to regret being paired with Lacey, he couldn’t deny that life with her was going to be extremely interesting.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Qualified

Based off this post by @stop-it-anxiety

Summary: Virgil’s usual therapist was... unique. The man who just slumped into his seat is even unique-r. Of everything Virgil expected from the stranger, it definitely wasn’t actual advice. Pairings: Platonic sleepxiety, romantic remile, background LAMP, background RED Warnings: Sympathetic deceit (mentioned), food mention (kinda), like one swear, fears of abandonment

    Virgil hadn’t been thrilled about going to see yet another therapist. One too many bad experiences in the past had made him extremely hesitant when his boyfriends told him about Dr. Emile Picani.

    True to their word, however, Emile had been… unique, somehow in a good way. His methods weren’t orthodox, in any sense of the word, but they worked. It helped that Emile had seemed so familiar almost immediately, a feeling Virgil later attributed to how similar yet different he was from his boyfriends- logical like Logan, yet extremely bubbly like Patton. And for Roman, so much Disney. So, so much Disney.

    But it worked. Emile’s general kookiness and tendency to link problems to cartoons put Virgil more at ease than any clinical outlook at his problems ever had. It had been a few months since he first got asked, “Do you how do?” and he was doing surprisingly great.

    So, of course, now was the perfect time for things to go upside down.

   He had been anxiously checking the clock- it was normal for Emile to come in a little bit after the patient; he always had some dramatic entrance planned (Virgil was still finding glitter in his clothes from the time he had used a sparkle bomb), but five minutes late? The doc was normally very punctual- when the door opened. He glanced over, expecting to see Emile doing something positively ridiculous.

   Instead, someone in a black leather jacket and sunglasses breezed into the room, flopping into Emile’s chair and throwing their legs over one of the arms. Virgil watched, bewildered, as the stranger took a long sip from their starbucks cup.

   “So,” They drawled, letting their head roll to the side so they were actually looking at Virgil, “tell me about your emotional shit.”

   Virgil frowned, confused. “...Who are you?”

   “Emile is sick, so I’m your stand-in therapist.”

   “Did you even go to medical school?”

   “Listen, babes, we’re here to talk about you, not my qualifications.” They answered, taking another sip of their drink.

   Virgil crossed his arms. “Yeah, because talking to a wannabe rock star whose name I don’t even know and has probably never seen a degree of higher learning is going to do me a lot of good.”

   “You forgot caffeine addicted, sugar.” They replied, unfazed. “And if you want my name so bad, it’s Remy.”

   “Great.” Virgil said sarcastically. “Random stranger Remy, wannabe rock star with a coffee addiction, wants to try and help me solve my problems.”

   “Random stranger?” Remy repeated, sounding faux hurt. “I’m just a random stranger to you?”

   “I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

   “Yeah I got that bit.” Remy responded. “I’m hung up on the fact that you’ve never heard of me.”

   “Should I have?”

   Remy frowned, though he still sounded more amused than upset as he grumbled, “Figures Em would be responsible… not talking about his personal life with his patients…”

   “Actually, that reminds me.” Virgil said, mostly ignoring the mumbles. “How do you even know Emile? Are you a past patient with an authority complex, or-”

   “I’m his better boyfriend.” Remy said, cutting Virgil off.

   Virgil scoffed. “Better? Oh, so it’s a superiority complex.”

   “Nah, it’s just the truth.” Remy countered. “See, Dante’s a knockout of a man, but he’s not willing to step up to bat when it matters. ‘Em’s sick, we should cancel his appointments.’ ‘No, Rem, you playing therapist is not a good idea.’ ‘I think you drinking another coffee right now will kill you do you really think you can offer any form of sane therapy.’ He’s such a killjoy.”

   “Did you ever consider he might have been right?”

   “Very briefly, yes.” Remy admitted with another sip of what Virgil now suspected to be a supposedly fatal coffee. “But listening to him wouldn’t have been much fun.”

   “So you decided to disturb your boyfriend’s patients?”

   “Of course not!” Remy replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m here to disturb a patient. You’re the only person Em was seeing today, so here I am! To deliver you helpful emotional advice!”

   Virgil chuckled. “Yeah, that’s going to go well.”

   “Well it might if you actually told me something.” Remy said, shifting in the chair so his legs were hooked over the top and his head was dangling above the ground. “Spill the tea, hunny.” He ordered while, somehow, taking a sip of his drink and neither spilling nor choking on it.

   “How- How are you doing that?” Virgil asked, thinking back to his one attempt to drink upside down. It had ended with a ruined shirt and a good two minutes of choked panic.

   “It’s an artform. Now spillllllllllll.”

   “This is extremely unprofessional.” Virgil responded before continuing, “But things are fine. There’s the fear of abandonment but that’s nothing new-”

   “Don’t care if it isn’t new.” Remy said, stopping Virgil. “Sounds important. Let’s start there.”

   Virgil raised an eyebrow questioningly. “You actually want to try and do something helpful?”

   “Did you think I wanted to hear about your most likely boring life for kicks?”

   “Basically, yeah.”

   “You give me no credit, babe. Just because I’m not certified to say helpful shit doesn’t mean I can’t.” Remy smirked. “Maybe you haven’t heard, but one of my boyfriends is a therapist. I’ve learned a lot from him.”

   “I find that doubtful, but go wild.” Virgil said, leaning back into the couch.

   Remy placed his cup down next to his head before pressing his hands together like a prayer beneath (or in this case, over) his chin. He wouldn’t have looked serious if he was sitting right-side up, but upside down just made him look even dorkier than his cartoon-adoring partner.

   “Tell me, Virgil, why do you have abandonment issues?” He asked, sounding about as professional as a five-year-old playing doctor.

   “The universe hates me.”

   “Mmhmmm yes yes let me write this down.” Remy said, nodding as he dug into his jean pocket, pulling out a silver sharpie, rolling down his jacket sleeve and scribbling ‘universe sucks’ on his arm. “Could you elaborate on that? How does it make you feel?”

   “Like I’m going to be abandoned.”

   Remy nodded again. “I see… have you considered the possibility that you are, in fact, not going to be abandoned?”

   “Miracle of miracle- my problems are solved!”

   “No need to be so sarcastic.” Remy said, jabbing his sharpie at Virgil. “My solution is airtight. But if you insist on being ‘complicated’ and having ‘complex problems’ you should probably tell me why you think everyone is going to abandon you for reasons other than the general hatred of the universe focused against you.”

   Virgil chuckled. “That’s a lot of big words you strung together.”

   “And that’s some very good discussion redirection you’re doing.”

   Virgil clicked his tongue. Mr. Indoor Sunglasses and Afternoon Coffee was smarter than he seemed. “Listen, I realize I’m worth a lot more than I thought before I started meeting with Emile. But I’m still nowhere on the level anyone I know is. The other shoe’s gotta fall and I am, stupidly, still afraid for it.”

   Remy started writing on his arm again, making bullets beneath the ‘universe sucks statement’;

   -’Imposter’ boi

   -Sad boi

   -Stupid boi

   “Hey!” Virgil exclaimed defensively. “‘Stupid boi?’ I thought you were supposed to be making me feel better about my self-worth or something, not attack me.”

   “You’ve clearly got that front covered, love, I don’t even have to touch it.” Remy replied, putting a little star next to the last bullet point for emphasis. “But while you cover the attacks, I’ll focus on the facts.”

   “Nice rhyme.”

   “I’m good like that. Now I’m not allowed to look at Em’s notes because patient confidentiality or something silly and highly technical, so you’re gonna have to lend me a hand here- who are you afraid will abandon you? Y’know, aside from everyone.”

   Virgil shrugged. “I don’t know. My boyfriends I guess.”

   “How long have y’all been dating?”

   “Two and a half years.”

   “...Sugar, I don’t know how to explain the concept of ‘if they haven’t left yet they ain’t gonna leave ever’ to you but-”

   Virgil cut him off, “That is not how relationships work. If it was the divorce rates would be a lot lower.”

   “You miss my point.” Remy said with a sigh, righting himself in the chair and for the first time that day looking actually serious. “Do relationships fail? Yes, it sucks, but it can happen to a couple of fifty years. That’s just life, sweetheart, I won’t sugarcoat it.”

   “Helpful.”

   “Let me finish. When those relationships fail, it’s because a fight or an opinion they didn’t know the other had comes up. Or something, I don’t know, I’m not a relationship counselor.” Remy added with a shrug. “What I do know, is that relationships that have existed for longer than six months don’t break up because they suddenly think one of them is worthless or some other bullshit. If your bfs are that pretentious, they would’ve dropped you ages ago-”

   “My self-esteem is doing amazingly, thanks-”

   “-and you would have been the better for it.” Remy finished, waving a finger. “You really need to stop interrupting. You miss the best parts.”

   “...What do you mean?” Virgil asked, pausing as he actually processed what Remy had said. Remy smiled, and it must have been the most gentle and genuine one he had worn all day.

   “Whether or not you’ll admit it, Virgil, you have worth. A whole hecking lot of it, as my cartoonish partner would say. If your boyfriends had left you in the beginning, it would have been their loss. And I find it highly doubtful they’re going to let you escape them now.” Remy leaned in a bit, smile morphing into a more mischievous one as he added in a stage whisper, “And if they do, I’ll help you egg their house.”

   Virgil laughed at that. “Y’know,” He started after a moment, still smiling, “you’re not as incompetent as you look.”

   “The secret is setting expectations so low, any single thing you do right is an overachievement.” Remy told him as he stood up, dramatically stretching before picking his coffee cup back up. “Now, as much fun as beating your problems with a stick is, the session’s over, and I have two boyfriends to annoy.”

   “Even the sick one?”

   “Annoyance is my primary personality trait. He knew the sort of caregiving he was signing up for.” Remy said as he moved towards the door. He stopped in the doorway for a second to turn back to Virgil with a wave. “Toodles, babes!”

   And then he was gone, just about as dramatically as he had come. Virgil remained seated on the couch for a moment, shaking his head with a smile.

   When he finally convinced himself to head out to the parking lot, he found Patton waiting, sitting on the hood of his car. He grinned broadly and waved when he spotted Virgil, greeting him with a kiss.

   “How was it today?” Patton asked while Virgil moved for the passenger door. “You were in longer than usual. Session run late?”

   Virgil shook his head with a chuckle. “Nah. Today was just… unique.”

   “Good unique or bad unique?” Patton asked hesitantly.

   “Good unique.” Virgil reassured him. “I’ll tell you what happened once we meet up with the pen and the sword.”

   Patton raised his eyebrows. “Oh, nicknames? Someone’s happy!”

   “Yeah, Pat, I am.”

   Patton smiled even bigger and turned on the car.

   ~~

   “Loves, your favorite bitch it back!”

   The house quietly regarded Remy with no response. Remy frowned as he dropped his sunglasses on the small table in the hall. He wandered to the bedroom, finding Emile curled up and watching Steven Universe, not even noticing Remy’s entrance.

   Smiling, Remy snuck around the bed, shrugging off his jacket before sliding into the bed and hugging Emile from behind. Startled, Emile turned his head, relaxing when he realized it was Remy.

   “Oh, hi Rem.” Emile said, sleepy, before his eyes widened. He tried to pull away from Remy. “You’re going to get yourself sick.”

   Remy just tightened his grip and laughed. “I have no immune system, love, I’ve been destined to get sick since your first sneeze. Plus, I will risk illness for attention and cuddles. Where’s Dante? I want triple cuddles.”

   Emile gave up trying to escape the hug, instead rolling his head so he could partially tuck it into Remy’s shoulder. “He’s getting me ice cream.”

   “What? Why?”

   “Because I’m sick and I said please.”

   “I thought ice cream was ‘unhealthy’ and ‘not for sick people.’”

   “Dante said that because when you were sick, it was from drinking too much coffee.” Emile replied. “Speaking of, you didn’t pick up any on the way to my session, did you?”

   “...No?”

   “Rem.”

   Remy chuckled and pressed a kiss to Emile’s temple. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m not going to allow for a repeat of the Coffee Disaster of May.”

   “Hmm.” Emile hummed, disbelievingly. “How was Virgil?”

   “Pretty good. Worried about his boyfriends leaving him but I casually called him stupid and everything was fixed.”

   “This is why no one believes you went to med school.”

   Remy twisted his head a bit to smirk at Emile. “Hey, my complete lack of professionalism is the entire reason you get to be the psych doc without even having to think about student loans.”

   “I know.” Emile said, moving up so he could kiss Remy. “It’s why I love you.”

   “Oh, so all I am to you is a free bachelor's and master’s degree?”

   “It’s one of the many reasons I love you.” Emile amended, yawning as he curled closer to Remy. “Along with the fact you’re a great hugger.”

   “And to think you tried to escape my hug but five minutes ago.” Remy teased, but he curled in a little more as well, quietly watching Steven Universe with his boyfriend as they both gradually fell asleep.

[chicoriii]

🎶Made for @lovesquarefluffweek Day 1 - Concert 🎶

Please, click on the picture to see it in full resolution, it looks awful when small and Kwamis are hardly seen.

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It’s the first time I take part in event like this. When I noticed concert day, I knew I need to do this, since instrumental music is my the biggest passion. I love jazz and classical piano so much, even though piano is not my favourite instrument.

It's great to combine my love for Miraculous and instrumental/classical music. I'm not a musician, but I can do it by drawing a fanart which illustrates music scene with my favourite side of Love Square.

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It’s one of my first attempts at drawing humans from years, I’ve never been good at it, Miraculous gives me lots of motivations to improve my terrible skills. I prefer drawing things like animals or various creatures (so also Kwamis), but humans are getting more and more enjoyable. So there’s lots of anatomy mistakes and so on, but it’s not too bad for now, I guess. Despite I made many improvements during drawing it, there’s still something wrong with Marinette’s face and I couldn’t fix it enough.

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Some background for this fanart:

I imagine it’s a first private concert which Adrien is playing specially for Marinette, he even rents a concert hall (he’s rich and romantic enough to something as much extravagant) when it’s not used. It’s not just one piece or two, he’s playing about 1-hour long piano recital (look at playlist below) only for his girlfriend (and magical creatures). It’s post-reveal, so Kwamis also can enjoy it without being hidden. While Tikki is excited about it not less than Marinette, Plagg is more interested in his Sugarcube, since he’s used to listening to Adrien’s piano and sometimes he’s playing with him. But rather cheerful jazzy-like improvised pieces, because he doesn’t like classical as much, especially sad compositions (Feast gave me some thoughts like these). Adrien decides to give a concert in a melancholic theme (so slow, soft, beautiful etc. pieces are played) to make this date as much romantic as he can. Even though blond boy is usually closing his eyes while playing on piano (like many instrumentalists), he can’t stop staring at his sweet girlfriend with his signature soft look™.

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One of my the biggest wishes is to see a scene when Adrien is playing on piano specially for Marinette, any good composition (I don’t like that one from Heart Hunter), preferably classical one. And I’d love to see an episode with a classical instrumentalist based akuma, rock and pop are not the only musical genres out there.

Classical music (and instrumental music in general) is highly unappreciated, so I'm happy when it’s represented in media, especially kid shows. This is what I love the most about classic cartoons, there’s lots of classical music. The Cat Concerto, Tom and Jerry episode which won an Academy Award, is one of the best examples of very creative use of classical piece for a slapstick comedy. Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 was even played by two pianist, by classical and jazz ones.

Classical music can be enjoyed by anyone who has some passion to music at least. It’s a very eclectic type of music where you can find everything. Classical is not only over 1-hour symphonies, there’s also compositions shorter than typical radio-friendly song. It’s not only serious music, classical can be also playful with very catchy melodies. Everyone can find something for themselves.

🎹🎹🎹🎹 Playlist 🎹🎹🎹🎹

I'm also enjoying choosing played pieces so much and it's too hard, since there's tons of beautiful piano music, though I know only a very small part of classical world. It’s about one-hour long concert, so also recordings were chosen to last about 1 hour together.

As sonata is a musical form with several movements (usually three or four) and since not all of them fit melancholic theme of this concert, Adrien play only one or two selected movements. For example only the first movement of extremely popular Beethoven's Moonlight sonata - Adagio sostenuto - is that dark and sad piece which everyone knows. The shortest second movement Allegretto is still not fast but quite cheerful, while the last Presto agitato is... Check it yourself, it's one of my favourites music moments ever. 😊

I also decided to try selecting lesser-known compositions (but it doesn't mean they are all little-known) to promote them, so there's a chance than maybe someone gives this music a shot and discover something new to appreciate.

Fryderyk Chopin - Nocturne in B flat minor, Op. 9 No. 1 - I couldn't choose anything else for the beginning. Nocturnes are my favourites Chopin's compositions and this one I love the most. No word describe how much I adore it, it's the most beautiful piece ever composed.

Franz Schubert  - Minuet in A Major, D. 334  - The first time I heard it, I thought about Adrien. I think this short sweet piece describes his childlike innocence quite well.

Fryderyk Chopin - Prelude Op.28 No.15 in D Flat Major, "Raindrop" - This thing is shown on the screen of Adrien's smartphone in few episodes (like Captain Hardrock), but for some reason it's not what's actually played. I have no idea if it was supposed to be played, but was changed after rendering was done or it's just an error. It's so nice composition, though not my favourite Chopin's prelude, even if it's the longest one. Unfortunately, the piece which is actually heard in the show is unknown for me, I'd love to discover it, but I can't. All I know it's definitely not any other Chopin's prelude.

Ludwig van Beethoven - Piano Sonata No. 31 in A-flat major, Op. 110 - I. Moderato cantabile molto espressivo and III. Adagio ma non troppo – Allegro ma non troppo - It’s almost the whole sonata, the only missing thing is the shortest second movement. It's probably my favourite piano sonata, so I couldn't not choosing it.

Franz Liszt -  Consolation No. 3 in D-Flat Major, S. 172 - If once I wonder why I love this, this is because it's so Chopin-esque.

Franz Schubert - Piano Sonata No.16 in A minor D.845 -  I. Moderato - I discovered this wonderful composition thanks to Nodame Cantabile, my favourite anime and manga ever, which is focused on classical music college students and professional classical musicians. Two main characters are also opposites who learn much from each other. I gave a link to the performance made specially for Nodame Cantabile, because I'm mostly attached to it. Usually this piece is played faster and it kills the atmosphere in my opinion. This rendition is the most emotional I've ever heard.

How would be this list without any French composers? I believe Ravel and Debussy are a mustm since they are the most known and important, I believe, and I also added something from Satie, because he wrote lots of soft compositions for piano solo. Chopin was also half-French (from his father), but: "Chopin's biographer Adam Zamoyski writes that he never considered himself to be French, despite his father's French origins, and always saw himself as a Pole." (source: Wikipedia) Besides Chopin's music is very Polish.

Maurice Ravel -  Jeux d'eau

Claude Debussy -  Rêverie

Erik Satie -  Gnossiennes: No. 1 - Lent

Maurice Ravel  - Ma mère l'Oye, M. 60: I. Pavane de la Belle au bois dormant  - finish it with something very short but so beautiful.

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Many beautiful things are missing, probably the most fitting for this concert would be Liszt's Liebestraum No. 3, since it's love music essentially, but it's too well-known (one of the most popular if not the most popular compostion by Liszt) and I'm kind of tired of this. I'm also very sad because of Chopin's Prelude in E Minor, but two pieces of the same composers are enough and this is his the most known prelude, too. I couldn't not recommend this jazz trio cover, because it's too good, too atmospheric though a different take on this theme.

Jazz musicians are often turning compositions into something much different. Everyone knows Beethoven's Für Elise, one of the best- known and (in my opinion) boring classical pieces in existence, but this jazz trio cover (sorry, I can’t find it outside of Spotify and other streaming services, it’s a very niche band) is just outstanding, I can't stop listening to it! Jazz arrangements of classical music is something I love so much.

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 42

AO3 link here

Who wakes first? Who can tell? Perhaps it is Steve, his hearing still acute, his muscle memory still practiced from responding to the slightest sound of a child’s step in the hall. Perhaps it is Peggy with her now early-rising body, her old agent’s urgency. Perhaps it does not matter. They turn toward each other in the empty house all the same. His fingertips brush against her beneath the blanket, in the dark. She rests in the warmth of him.

“First snow,” says one as the flakes fall heavy and quiet onto the roof.

“Do you remember?” says the other.

“Of course.” And then, although there’s no way to know how the serum works on an aging brain, no guarantee that the memory-related treatments that Tony and the Stark Industries bio-med team have been studying will indeed be effective or even workable: “All of it. Always.”

When Steve comes back from his turn on patrol to find Peggy—Agent Carter sitting at the doors of the old barn they’d taken shelter in for the night, his first thought is that she’s second-guessing the watch schedule he’d set up. Which he actually wouldn’t mind - he’s still new to this commander business, and he knows that any of the rest of them have more experience and she perhaps most of all - but he wishes she’d have talked to him before the middle of the night.

Then he notices that she’s curled up tightly, legs and arms tucked in: not exactly a state of battle readiness.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, approaching with care. It’s started snowing, but not enough to muffle anything.

“Dugan was terribly noisy getting up for his patrol. Woke me completely with all that grumbling and toe-stubbing and it was too bloody cold to get back to sleep. I’d have taken his turn, but he’d already gone.”

The moon is mostly hidden by the trees, but he can make out a hint of her smile. He’d been pretty sure he’d never see it directed at himself again, she’d been so mad at him the last time they’d been around each other. During the four days since she dropped in on their assignment, she’s been perfectly polite, professional, but held back from any more than that. She’s fallen in easily with the rest of the Commandos - every five minutes they’re asking her to settle some argument or a bet, or it’s “Peggy, tell us that one about Corporal Franks and the sheepdog again,” and even Bucky smiles at her although smiling doesn’t really seem to come all that naturally to him these days - but with him she’s all firmly tilted chin and observant eyes and “Captain Rogers.”

Until now, apparently.

He settles beside her in increments, not trying to fool or distract her but to give her a chance to tell him to get lost if she wants. She just watches him. Finally, forearms rested atop tented knees, he asks, "So what made you decide to come out here instead of staying where there's at least four walls and a roof?"

"It started snowing." She looks upward before facing him, flakes decorating her eyelashes and dampening her usually pristine hair. "And I know that this sort of weather is terrible news for so many, and it won't make our job any easier, but it reminds me of home and sometimes you must grasp those little pieces of magic and hold with both hands."

I know what you mean, he thinks, but what he says aloud is, "Why does the snow remind you of home? I would have thought it would be rain."

Actually sounding fairly amused, she says, "Dealing in anti-English stereotypes, I see. Though not even the most damning ones."

"Well, I've been to London. Seen it with my own eyes." He widens them a bit for effect and somehow their gazes catch, as if they're having a staring contest, before they look away.

"Yes, well, I didn't grow up in London. We lived farther out in the country. And when I was small, my brother would wake me up the first night it snowed each year and we'd go out - terribly underdressed, mind you, slippers and dressing gowns - and just watch it float down toward us. We would catch the flakes on our tongues and stay out until our faces were raw. Mum would tell us off if we didn't get back inside before she woke up, but then she'd just make us each hot chocolate and bundle us in front of the fire."

"That sounds—" Steve clears his throat. "That sounds beautiful."

"It truly was." She shuffles her feet a bit, and then, sounding wry, though he wonders if it might be to avoid the slight shaking in her voice, says, "I don't suppose a city boy like yourself had such similar experiences?"

He snorts. "Not hardly. Snowball wars in the street when there'd been a storm, sure. But if my mother had caught me sneaking down four flights in the middle of January or catching something from outside in my mouth, I certainly wouldn't have gotten hot chocolate."

"A shame for you, then." Her eyes gleam celestial in the near dark. Without meaning to, he takes in a gulp of frigid, pine-scented air.

"Seems to me," he says, "that I just have an opportunity to make another, better memory for the future." He pauses, glances down then back up at her. "Or—Well, this one's a pretty good one too. A first first snow memory."

The quiet between them is content, broken as it is by the sounds of birds and animals on their nightly business. A gust blows over them and Peggy shivers.

"Here," Steve says, automatically moving to unbutton his coat, but she shakes her head.

"Remember what Howard said."

The sound he makes in the back of his throat is half humorous, half rueful. She'd been there to hear Howard yell, "Don't forget to try to stay warm - not too warm, though! We're not totally sure what could happen to you extreme temps. Might be that your temperature and the way your brain processes it don't match up. Should probably test it when you get back," just before Steve left HQ.

"Well," he says, clearing his throat and continuing to undo his buttons, stretching his legs out in front of himself. The coat is heavier than any he's ever had and she has one much the same, but they're not particularly well insulated. "It's still cold as hell out here. We can share it."

The words hold awkwardly in the air as she looks over at him. A voice that might be Bucky's is telling him that he's not smooth enough to use words to make it better and he should just keep quiet and hope she lets it go. His own voice is low when he speaks again. "Just to keep warm, I swear. I would never—" His fingers fidget over the last button. "I know you have reason not to trust me. I should never have assumed anything or spoken to you like that, and I'm sorry for it."

"I know you are," she says with surprising immediacy. "Watching you over the past few days it's become clear to me that I wasn't as mistaken about your character as I had thought. And that perhaps I shouldn't have shot at you."

"It was," he says, feeling foolish, "some pretty good shooting," and she climbs over his left leg and tucks herself beneath his arm, inside the warmth of the wool with him.

"What a charming compliment." Her breath clouds softly against his neck. "I'll have to tell my mother."

"Maybe talk me up a little too." He isn't entirely sure what he's saying. "If I ever make it there for a first snow, I'd like some of that hot chocolate afterward."

She gives a hushed little laugh. "I'll make certain to. Although I wonder if I've elevated my childhood memories too highly. You might end up being disappointed."

There are, he estimates, likely only about another ten minutes before Dugan comes back around to this spot on the patrol route and they should probably be inside by then. He plans to savor each moment until he hears footsteps out here with Peggy beneath the first drifting snow.

"Believe me," he says. "If it's even close to this, I don't think there's any way I could be disappointed."

Steve's sitting at the drafting table they'd set up in one corner of the living room once it became clear that he was going to be drawing as more than a hobby. The pot of heavy stew he has on a low flame lends the aroma of tomato and garlic to the air.

He's working on two sample wedding announcements, one in a cartoon style for the bride, with she and her fiance sharing a milkshake with two straws (the sort of simplified image that he recognizes wryly will become emblematic of this era while allowing people to ignore the complexities) and one with more classically elegant florals for the bride's mother. He's been distracted and has to force himself to focus, so just the two designs have taken him all afternoon. It's only once he's finished the latter that he looks up and realizes simultaneously that it's dark, Peggy still isn't home, and that it's started snowing.

He reaches over the tabletop and lifts the edge of the dotted green curtain, peering at the falling flakes illuminated by the streetlight.

"The hell?" he mutters to himself. They'd had barely a dusting all winter, it had been in the seventies for half of January, and now it's snowing in March.

Apparently the stew was a good choice for tonight. Peggy will want something hot and filling when she gets here.

He reaches toward his pocket to check the time then shakes his head at himself and looks at his wristwatch instead. 7:56. It's not unheard of for her to arrive home this late but she had seemed to think it would be a fairly light workday. Changes of plan like this always makes him wonder if something's gone wrong, not with Peggy who can generally handle herself, but with one of the many balls they're trying to keep in the air: Korea is still a concern, of course, and Hydra has been bristling from the targeted test strikes they've made so far, and of course there's Bucky. They've been getting close to finding him, each source of Peggy's confirming Steve’s memorized information seeming like it will be the last link, each day feeling like it might be the one.

Forcing himself to stand, he stretches, circles aimlessly around the apartment a few times, then gathers himself enough to remember to tidy up. The snow is still coming down, big floating flakes that are actually starting to accumulate.

Once his supplies are put away, the counter wiped down, and the table set, he allows himself to call over to the SHIELD offices. If Peggy has something to tell him, she will when she can, and if not it might be an interruption to something important. But there are, he reminds himself, more normal explanations for a late arrival and if she's just catching up on paperwork he'll be happy to know that too.

He's very aware of how lucky he is that they get at least some degree of normal.

But the switchboard operator who picks up, recognizing his voice, tells him that Peggy left nearly an hour ago. He thanks her and hangs up, frowning. It usually takes half that time to get back.

He considers starting in on his next project or picking up a book in an attempt to distract himself, but before he can even make a decision, the power goes out, leaving him blinking in the near darkness, the flame from the stove the only light.

After he searches around by feel for the matches and then by match-light for a flashlight, he turns off the burner and heads down to make sure the neighbors are alright.

Mrs. Lester on the first floor sits sewing by the light of what seems to be a lantern set up on her table, and reminds him peaceably that she grew up in a country cabin without any electricity at all so this doesn't bother her in the least. The Trimble brothers on the second floor ask a whole lot of questions that he can't answer ("When do you think the power will come back on?" and "Do you think it will snow again tomorrow?") but seem fine. Esther Stoneham in the little top floor apartment even seems glad about the lights having gone out - it'll mean that her toddlers Caroline and Eddie might actually just go to bed instead of trying to play with everything in the place.

"I've lit one candle," she tells him, with exhausted eagerness. "And I'm telling them that's all there is so they had better be done picking up the toys before it goes out.”

He meets Peggy coming up the stairs as he's on his way back down.

"You're home," he says, just as she reaches the landing, her camel-colored trench dark and dripping a bit, and asks, "Do I smell a stew?"

They go inside together, door locked behind them.

“Another first snow together,” he says, catching and holding her chilled fingers in his.

Her eyes are soft on him. It always strikes him when they have these sorts of moments, when she’s with him to share these memories that had been held by only the two of them: their memories. “Still some magic to it, though I wouldn’t have said no to a bit better timing. I didn’t even wear a scarf today.”

He lights some candles around the place while she goes into the bedroom, joining her once he's finished.

"I would have adored a good bath," she says, standing before the bureau in her slip and sorting around in the dim light for her warmest pajamas. "But I suppose we can't have everything."

"I think I can promise a bath sometime in the near future." He walks into the bathroom and picks up a towel. Once she's finished changing, he starts to rub gently at her hair, drying it carefully of the cold moisture. When he's done, her cheeks have lost their outdoor redness and she's a bit frizzy.

There was a time, not long ago and all of forever away, when he never thought he'd see her like this, relaxed and unguarded, completely beautiful in the disheveled, comfortable way. He kisses her forehead, her temple, her cheek, her mouth, her mouth again for longer. She presses up into him, hands holding him closer, a dreamy, satisfied hum building in the back of her throat, until, approximately simultaneously, his hand hits one of the bottles lined up atop her dresser, knocking things around, and her stomach reminds them it's quite late and they still haven't eaten.

Steve ladles stew, luckily still warm enough, into bowls. Peggy slices bread and spreads hers liberally with butter. She's only five years on from army food and ration cards.

"How was your day?" he asks as they sit across from each other in the quiet, candlelit kitchen.

"I had an interminable meeting with a very sweet man from the BID who somehow kept expecting me to speak Dutch, which is unfortunately not among my many talents, and then I was informed by Howard that selecting Eugenia Cavendish to head our Australia division was being perceived as an insult to the men who’d interviewed for the position.”

“Howard said that?” Steve asks, already thinking about socking the man next time they see each other.

“No, he merely informed me of how it was being perceived, which I might already have guessed. And I informed him in return that I don’t particularly care, and I suspect Genie’s prepared herself as well.” She takes another bite. “And then I had an errand to take care of after work, and got caught up in the weather. I tried to wait it out, but finally decided to take a chance and I’m glad I did or I might have been waiting all night.”

“An errand?”

“Yes, I—” She looks just slightly flustered, as if she’d hoped he wouldn’t catch on that bit, then says decisively, “Oh, let me just get them.”

From her bag, she takes a bakery box, a bit damp, a bit crushed, but mostly intact, and sets it before him, nodding at him to untie the twine and open it up. When he does with careful fingers, he finds two cinnamon buns lying inside.

“You were talking yesterday about how your mother made them once, as a treat,” she says as he takes them in. “And I know that you’ve had quite a lot on your shoulders lately. So I called around and had some put aside.”

Their local bakery closes at 3 and usually sells out of the more popular treats long before then. There wouldn’t even be anyone to open the door without some convincing. Steve looks down at the pair of pastries, sweetly puffed up and perfectly iced, for long moments. How simple it is, to be thought of, an offhand comment remembered, to have someone go out of their way for him. To have Peggy, in the midst of all that she does, go out of her way for him.

“Thank you,” he says, meeting her eyes, the box still cradled in his hands.

“Here,” she says, standing with her bowl. “Come, my darling. Let’s finish eating in the sitting room. The windows are better there. We can sit and watch the snow. A bit of magic. I think we can both use it.”

Her gaze from across the table is so kind: Peggy sitting beside him as he’d cried in that bombed out pub, Peggy reminding them both of the things they have to be proud of, Peggy here and now, understanding him without words, promising so much more to come for the two of them together.

The bedroom door slams open without warning, and both Steve and Peggy shoot up in bed as all four of their kids tumble through the door.

“It’s snowing,” Emma says, fingers fluttering gleefully downward as she catapults toward the bed.

“Snow day!” Drea sings eagerly, bouncing into the blankets. “Snow day!”

And indeed, when Steve looks out the window into the near darkness, he finds several inches already on the ground and more still falling.

“I guess you’re right,” he says. “Any chance you all will go back to sleep for at least a couple more hours?” When they blink up at him (Rosie actually snorting out a laugh), he just shrugs. “Okay. Pancakes, I guess.”

The roads aren’t going to be cleared for several hours at least - everything around here shuts down for even a sprinkling. Peggy could likely place a few calls to give herself some sort of priority in order to get in for at least the later morning, but she doesn’t. Instead, for the first time in its history, Peggy phones her work and tells them to activate the phone tree and inform everyone at the Washington office that they can switch to essential staff members only for the day.

“That was nice of you,” Steve comments, giving her a smile, a brief kiss, and a cup of tea as she joins them all in the kitchen.

“They can always telephone in an emergency, though there hopefully won’t be any today.” She sips her tea, watching him standing there flipping pancakes on the griddle and adding bacon to a pan, looking at the children bundled in their robes, making wonderful, impossible plans for the day. “And it was a bit of a gift to me as well.”

The radio news, along with the official school closure, announces that the storm might have some staying power. By the time they’ve finished breakfast, it’s late enough that Steve says he’ll dig out his old snow boots and go see if the store’s open to pick up some essentials.

Even for him, the walk to town takes longer than usual, and it turns out that their early rising was lucky: people are flowing into the market and the shelves are starting to clear. Steve gets a bag full of staples, then asks Mr. Hillyard if he can leave them in the back office for a bit and borrow his phone to call Peggy. Looking around, he sees several elderly shoppers who likely need a hand getting things back home - the wind has a bite to it and they probably shouldn’t be out in that at all, much less carrying heavy bags down uncleared roads.

It’s several hours before he’s finished making deliveries and promising to come back tomorrow to help shovel walkways, before he finally starts home himself. On the way he is waved over by Wally Davenport, father of Rose’s friend Marcia, a portly man with his coat zipped to his chin who stands talking to Mrs. Gregory, the grade school principal.

“Cold enough for you?” he asks, fairly cheerfully Steve thinks for someone who has his hands stuffed so deep in his pockets that he’s bent nearly in half. Mrs. Gregory waves goodbye to the two of them, looking a bit relieved to be freed from conversation.

“I’m ready to be back home with Peggy and the kids,” Steve says, shifting the bag in his arm and trying not to sound pointed.

“Bet that brood of yours is happy to have the day off,” Wally replies obliviously. “I know that my two are—”

Later, it is hard to tell whether Steve’s hearing or his speed makes the difference. Likely it’s both: his sharp ears immediately detecting the moment that the branch of the old, spreading pine above them, unused to the weight of snow, cracks and collapses, his instinctive arm hauling Wally out of the way as the enormous bough crashes down before them.

“Lord almighty,” Wally says, swiping a hand across his forehead and staring wide-eyed as if he expects the sidewalk to have crumbled into pieces from the force of it. “You’re pretty fast there, Grant. Don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.”

If you hadn’t been here, Steve thinks to himself, walking through the overcast, snow-cushioned streets after he’s sent Wally back home to his wife and kids. Perhaps if he hadn’t been there, Marcia and Dougie would have found their memories of this day destroyed by the memory of their father’s death. Perhaps if he hadn’t been there, Wally would have already moved on toward home, heard about the fallen branch only later, whistled when he walked by and spotted it.

This life, the life he and Peggy have made themselves...He lives always within its normalcy, lives with the knowledge that he is in some ways entirely apart. Some days - when Nate asks if he thinks people will ever really walk on the moon, the afternoon Rose brought home that first Beatles record, saying her friends told her it was pretty good - he is struck by all that he knows, all the ways he is permanently outside of time. Some days, like when he’d turned on the news to see, suddenly before him, footage of John Glenn circling the earth for the first time, he feels entirely a part of it all, and sometimes, like when he’d seen Jerrie Cobb go up six months later, he finds pride in what he’s managed to do here. And often, he does not even think of it much, is simply a husband, a father, with errands to complete and homework to oversee, listening to his children’s chatter, Peggy’s laugh or her sharp sigh when they talk in bed at night.

The house, as he approaches it, looks unfamiliar for a moment, and then he blinks. There is Emma’s window, with the pretty curtains she’d selected. There is the scratch Nate left on the garage door when he was learning to make turns on his bike last summer. There, beneath the snow and frozen earth, sleep the bulbs he’d planted. There is the porch swing where he and Peggy sit to have a drink together when it’s warm out, the welcome mat where Rosie dropped a pitcher of Kool-Aid and left a stain, the front door that Drea will help him touch up in the spring.

He walks down the front hallway, feeling each step. In the doorway to the living room, he stops. The kids are still in their robes, scattered around with books and blankets, barely glancing at him. They’ve built a fire; it is still high in the grate.

Peggy is sitting with her own book, leaning on one arm of the sofa with her feet tucked beside her. She looks up at him, her hair a bit messy, eyes familiar, all of her beautiful.

“Oh good, you’re home,” she says. “We were waiting for you to get back before we went out into the yard together.”

He can picture it: snowmen and snow angels and forts and everyone laughing their way through a merciless snowball fight, burrowing back inside to wrap their hands around mugs of hot chocolate. Having this day, this wonderful day, and another tomorrow and for days and years to come, perhaps not the same, certain to be filled also with shock and worry and disappointment and heartache, but made of so many of these same small and loving moments.

“Yeah,” Steve says, complete with it all. “Yeah, I’m home.”

More chapters here

[melyaliz]

Past Loves and Future Babies pt. 7

Masterlist 

Fandom: Marvel / MCU 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OC

Notes: I feel like this chapter get’s a little muddy in the middle. I am TRYING to move the plot along but… these two are so slow. And I also got hella stuck, I think it was because my editor is ripping apart my novel and I am questioning everything.  

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“Good morning huckson.” 

Steve blinked owlishly standing in the doorway of the bedroom staring at Dixie. Seeing her awake before him was a sight he wasn’t quite used to. In Fact he wasn’t sure he had, in the almost three weeks of living together, seen her up before noon. Already wide awake and ready for the day, the perky girl was holding a mug of coffee in her hand with a huge smile on her face. 

“Where did you get that apron?” 

Dixie giggled twisting the frilly pink apron slightly. “Do I look like a little housewife because I’m getting those major June Cleaver vibes.” 

Chuckling Steve nodded even though -like most of her references- he had no idea what she was talking about. But her excitement was always infectious. Letting out a yawn he ran his fingers through his hair which only made his bed head worse. He reminded Dixie of the small dog, Beaver, she had as a child. The little dog’s ears used to fold over when he fell asleep on the couch only to wake up with a growl looking around as if ready to fight off the world. Poor little thing use to think he was a lot bigger than he really was. 

She had loved that dog 

 “What are you making?” Steve broke through Dixie’s daydream about her first cuddle buddy as he looked over her shoulder at the slightly smoking pan. White blobs that were darkening around the sides looked up at him. “It looks… interesting.”

“It’s supposed to be pancakes but… I may just see if I have better luck with cereal.” Dixie mumbled poking the centers of the cakes making them oze slightly. 

Grabbing two bowls Steve went for the cabinet that Dixie had stocked with all kinds of cereals. Each with its own colorful cartoon mascot on the front and prize inside. A week into moving in she had told him that she was an adult and was going to eat like one and then ordered a huge supply of every surgery cereal she could find. 

Not that Steve could complain, especially after she showed him the wonders of mixing cocoa pebbles into your ice cream. 

“So what’s the occasion for the cakes?” 

“I wanted to try something new,” Dixie mumbled, scraping the charred bits into the trash. “It’s been officially three weeks since I moved in and no fights.” 

“Has it only been three weeks?” 

“Feels like an eternity doesn’t it.” 

“In a good way.” 

“That’s sweet of you to say.” Dixie took her bowl of Lucky Charms, taking a bite before moving to a seat on the kitchen bar. “So what are Mr. America’s plans for today?” 

And their morning started. Each of them making plans over rainbow marshmallows. Helping each other grab water and napkins while moving around the kitchen. Both of them being super domestic 

Steve didn’t even realize how much he had settled into their routine until he was handing Dixie her yoga mat on his way out for his run with Bucky and Sam. Her face lighting up as he mentioned maybe taking her to the beach over the weekend sometime since she had been saying she had wanted to go. 

As he ran laps with Bucky and Sam he knew what he had to do. What Dixie deserved to know. 

Because she was right, they were a team. 

--------------------------

Having book time with Wanda had become a thing. Dixie had never been a tea and book girl, more of a “let’s go hang out at the mall and talk about boys” kind of kid growing up, but there was something about reading it with someone else that… gave it all a new perspective.  Plus she didn’t know how Wanda did it but that girl made amazing tea. And sometimes there would even be baked goods to go along with the warm drinks.

And if there was one thing Dixie loved, it was baked goods. 

She was turning into a regular little Hallmark girl. 

Although she continued to stick to the small collection of trashy books that had been hidden in the corner of the beautiful library.  

“I got you something,” Wanda said as they both sat down next to a spread of tea and scones. 

“Aww why?” 

“Well you were almost done with your book.” handing Dixie a box Wanda shrugged. “I was picking up some other books from a local used book store and I saw them in a dollar bin and couldn’t resist.”

“Are these?” 

“Yep, amazing painted covers and everything.”

“Look at that hair.” Dixie giggled running her finger over the worn frayed paper cover. The man that held the beautiful buxom woman had the most beautiful hair. Honestly, Dixie was jealous. What shampoo did he wear? 

“I am so excited to read these! Thank you so much.” 

“Thank you for keeping me company.” Wanda said playing with the hem of her shirt. “It gets kind of… lonely here sometimes.”

Dixie felt a pang of guilt in her stomach. She always seemed to feel sorry for herself and how she felt out of place and alone here but she never really stopped to consider how the other heroes lived. What they had gone through, what trials they had had to face in their lives that brought them here. 

It was probably something way more fun than a time magician telling you your future child to save the world. 

Growing up, for whatever reason, Dixie had always had a hard time making and keeping friends. The fact that Wanda had come to her and took the time to make her feel at home really meant something. 

From her morning with Steve to this afternoon with Wanda Dixie was starting to feel like maybe… 

Maybe she belonged. 

Or at least fit in for now. 

It was good not to be hated by your roomates. 

“Well cheers.” Dixie said, holding up her cup of tea, “to keep each other company and hair goals.” 

Wanda giggled holding up her glass clinking the porcelain together. “I can’t wait  for you to explain the plot to me in great detail.” 

“Oh you know I will.” 

--------------

“So you’ll never guess what happened… what’s up?” Dixie froze in the doorway of their apartment, the box of books in hand. Steve looked up from the couch where he was pensively sitting. Something about the way his blue eyes looked up at her through dark lashes told her he was about to say something she wasn’t going to enjoy hearing. Her stomach lurched slightly feeling sick. For a moment she wanted to run. 

So much for fitting in. 

“I… I want to tell you about something… or someone.” 

“Ok” slowly she took a seat next to him, pulling her legs up underneath her. Calm down Dixie, he’s not upset with you. This is good, he’s opening up more. Taking a few calming breaths she tried to calm her heart. Tried to keep her mouth busy taking in air and not blabbering out her nerves. 

They both sat in silence for a moment. It stretched across them filling the room. Sticky and sour Dixie wanted to open a window, or jump out of it. 

 “Do you remember how I was saying that I wasn’t going to be around?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Well there was… someone.” he paused fumbling with a small folder he had been holding, “I… she… I had the chance to go back but.” pulling out a small photo he handed it to her, “It was too late, she had moved on.” 

Dixie took the black and whtie image, a beautiful dark haired woman smiled sassily up at her. 

 “Well fuck Steve, she’s georges. I would leave everyone for her too” Dixie said looking over the image. 

“You’re beautiful too” Steve rushed to say, making Dixie wince slightly waving away his protests about their looks. 

“I mean I know that but… like look at her.” Dixie held up the image of Peggy to her own face. “You can’t even compare us.” 

“Yeah I guess.” 

Dixie hadn’t really been that into history (or school) so she didn’t know much about the Howling Commandos. And after she had to go move in with their leader she had decided not to do any googling beforehand. 

Better to keep your expectations and knowledge low. 

“But It’s ok whatever you want to talk about, it’s ok.” Gently Dixie took his hand putting the photo on the coffee table. It was moments like these she wasn’t that good at. The sad ones. The ones where someone was trying to work through their emotions. “What happened?” 

“I wouldn't even know where to start.” 

“It doesn’t matter, go all over the place. I’ve seen Inception I can keep up” 

He was right, there was so much. Peggy had been more than just who he had been before but she was also where he came from. Like Bucky, in many ways Peggy was what made Steve Rogers Captain America. 

She was etched in his very being, written into his DNA. 

They ended up talking for hours moving from the couch to take a walk around the compound until late into the evening. 

Dixie had never assumed that Steve and her would work out. From the moment they had met. Yet they were fated to have a child together in whatever timeline mambo jumbo the gold ol’ Doc Strange had come from. But having a child didn’t mean anything. It could have been a one night stand, or a horrible ending relationship.

Or maybe Dixie was a different person then. 

Or maybe Steve was. 

So Dixie had decided before she got into that cab that no matter what she would keep this professional. That she would not feel anything romantic, she couldn’t let disappointment or that kind of hurt back into her life.

But under the stars listening to this man retell his heartbreak she couldn’t help but wish she could take it back. There was something tragically romantic about letting yourself love that way. 

Maybe she had been reading too many romantic stories. 

“You know, honestly, I’m envious.” 

“You’re envious of my broken heart?” Steve asked 

“No, I just. I never let myself feel that way. Pulling her legs up to her chest Dixie looked up at the inky black sky. 

“It’s not about letting yourself, when it’s right… when you find that person you’ll understand.” 

“I won’t” she whispered so softly picking at the grass at her feet. The words slipping from her lips before she even meant to say them aloud. Steve wasn’t even sure he heard it. Turning he looked at her as she threw the blades into the endless sea of green they were sitting in. .

“What?” 

“Huh?” she blinked turning to him, her eyes wide, lips pursed. Looking like a child who had just been caught saying a bad word. 

“What did you say?” 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

He wasn’t going to push it. She had given him time to tell her about his secrets and he would just have a wait for her to tell him his. 

“You know” she said, pulling him back to them sitting there. To the night of stories and screits. “our kids are going to be adorable. I hope they has your eyes.” 

Something about the sight of her. Curled up next to him with her arms wrapped around her knees pulling them close to her. The way the sky was so filled with stars, the silver moon giving the only light around them. Steve felt a warmth spread about them, even with the cool night air.  “I hope they have your sense of humor.” 

Leaned forward he kissed her. Enjoying her taste, the way she seemed to melt into him. Her body so soft and delicate. 

“Oh but not my amazing looks?” she asked as he pulled away. That large smile on her face, eyes bright. Steve felt his heart skip slightly. She was so adorable in such unexpected ways.  

“Those too.” 

“No, you can’t take it back” she giggled grabbing his hand pulling him up. He watched her as she struggled to pull his large body up.  

“What?” 

“Dance with me.” 

“There is no music.” he laughed getting up. 

“So?” She shrugged before starting to hum softly. He wrapped his arms around her enjoying the feeling of her small curvy body pulled up to his. 

“I’m glad it’s you.” 

Dixie paused looking up at him, blinking rapidly, “What?” 

“I’m just” he sighed, kissing her forehead, “I'm glad.”

“If you had to heal from a soulmate level heartbreak it was with me?” 

“I didn’t…” 

“No, I… that’s a huge compliment. Thank you Steve.” 

“Our child will be lucky to have you as a mother.” 

As they slowly swayed under the night sky Dixie couldn’t help but get swept up in the moment. That feeling a stability that she got when she was in his arms. That feeling of truly having a place to belong. A life that wasn’t just one day to the next. 

In his arms she  had to remind herself that nothing had changed. That he wasn’t hers and that she was a woman outside of this that she could never run from. 

But in his arms it was hard to keep herself focused.

And that scared the shit out of her. 

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[magma-paint]

Tutorial Tuesdays: Heads Up!

It’s been a long time, life is a jerk. Anyway, drawing heads! Before continuing, I recommend reviewing the last Tutorial Tuesdays post on pencil pressure and drawing with basic shapes since those are going to be put into effect. Ready to go? Alright, since this is going to be a long one, click the Read More link and away we go!

The head is likely the part of any character you’re going to find yourself drawing the most. Expressions, headshots, closeups, busts, you name it. So let’s start by drawing a basic head and start with the most common view, the 3/4 view.

This is the most basic process condensed into four steps. Lightly sketch a circle and a guideline, the former typically is the form of most of the skull and the crosslines will help with placement of the eyes, nose, and ears. Then define the shape of the face, including the cheeks and jawline, with a bit stronger pressure  but still keeping pretty light. Sketch in the ear and the curvature of the back of the head, as well as the neck. The furthest line of the neck will be relatively close to where the jawline and ear connect. Then sketch in the features; very lightly sketch in circles where the eyes are--above the horizontal guideline but no further down than touching it--and sketch the eye shape and pupil/iris, alternating sides with each stroke to alleviate the frustration that comes with “drawing the other eye”. You know what I’m talking about. The nose will be close to the guideline intersection, if not actually on it at certain angles. And viola, a basic head at 3/4 view. This same process is used when facing at 3/4 the opposite way.

For a profile view, or looking at the head from the side, same basic four-step breakdown:

You’ll notice that the nose sticks out and you can see where the head connects to the neck at the back. Another guideline helps with ear placement. I should have put the guideline for that on the 3/4 view, but I find that the main guideline and jawline contour work better for me. Use the additional guideline for the ear if it will help with the spatial relation of that feature. More experienced artists may tweak areas to fit their signature style. For example, placement of the lips. In anime, especially more realistically styled anime, the lips appear as very small peaks with the valley between them being there the mouth is.

Now onto probably the second most common view, the front view. Also using the same four step condensed breakdown:

(Some of it cut off, oops) Now you can see how the face is arranged when looking at the viewer straight on. This is the easiest to practice, followed by 3/4, then profile. You can even cheat  by using the Symmetry pen in digital programs (just make sure you anchor down the point of reference first with Control+Click!). While basic, this works for just about any human character, though using references is highly encouraged to get a feel for the anatomy before messing with it to fit a particular style.

“I draw anthro animals, does this still work?”

Yes. For both super cartoony stylized characters and more realistically built and furry styles. Let’s start with looking at the fastest thing alive:

See? Circle, guideline, map out the features, and soon you got a cool boi.

Furries or more realistically styled anthros will tend to have more shapes and forms in their facial construction to better adhere to the anatomy of the animal they’re based on. JKU, my friend Elliot’s fursona, is an alien but the anatomy is based on a dog or a wolf. Study the animal you’re drawing if you need help or even to make a basic breakdown of the shapes you would need.

“How about object heads, like Cuphead?”

Absitively-posolutely! I personally use the circle foundation when drawing the Cup Bros or even just for general mapping the direction they’re looking, but once you master it, you can take the basic shape of the object you’re using, like this candle girl, and manipulate it to get it where you need them to face without relying on the circle.

Alright, now that you understand the basics of drawing a head, let’s move onto

Hair is a total mess and if there’s one thing I will warn beginning artists right now, DON’T DRAW STRAND BY INDIVIDUAL STRAND. It helps to think of hair and draw it in larger chunks and forms as a whole than by each individual one. As I shall demonstrate with my boi Guzma:

Okay, now that we have removed accessories from the picture, let’s set this up.

The process goes by starting with a basic head and the respective features of the character. Now we add the hairline, a visible boundary where the hair coverage begins. You‘ll sketch it for the forehead, the sideburns, and the nape of the neck if you’re in rear views. Now, piece by piece, we sketch the hair; I started with the floof at the top, then the right side of the sketch, then the left. If you have a character with a symmetrical hairstyle/haircut, remember the technique to avoid “the other eye” (or cheat by using the symmetry pen in digital).

The hairline itself varies from character to character or style to style, sometimes more seasoned artists won’t use it since it becomes hidden anyway. It does come in three basic shapes: flat (as seen on Guzma), protruding (it comes out a little bit in the front but following a smooth contour), and a widow’s peak, as seen on Equius:

The hairline is also useful in drawing and styling a character’s bangs or even indicating how the hair parts. Know what else it’s nifty for? It’s actually one of the most noticeable indicators of age. And you knew this example was coming and you probably even saw it coming from a mile away so let’s get it over with.

In 2018, Ace of the Gangreen Gang from The Powerpuff Girls became an official member of Gorillaz, temporarily taking up the role as the bassist while Murdoc was in jail. Since the band members age in real time, the same applies to Ace. Besides the addition of a couple wrinkles, the most noticeable effect time has had on him is the receding hairline and decreased volume/body his hair has compared to when he was within spitting range of becoming a legal adult. I could even do an entirely new tutorial on hair by age, but this is just the basics.

So we talked about hairlines and drawing in large chunks. What about characters with hair accessories or their hair pulled into ponytails or pigtails? Allow Plumeria and Bubbles to demonstrate:

Take your basic head and define the hairline (though it may be impractical on any angle on the PowerPuff Girls). Draw in the part and bangs if applicable and define the volume of the hair close to the head. Lightly sketch a circle on each side where the hair gathers on the head and map out the length of the hair. Define the pigtails first and then the hair accessories. And you good!

For specific textures of hair, look for references or additional tutorials. Bald characters such as Russel Hobbs or Dr. Eggman don’t really need much of a tutorial, but you do want to make sure the head is constructed very well to make it convincing. And on that topic...

TROUBLESHOOTING

These are some traps that beginning artists fall into or rookie mistakes seasoned artists shouldn’t be making on prime pieces. Let’s break them down:

Balloon Heads and Painted-on Faces

These two are beginning (more pronounced for anthro) artist pitfalls and tropes that were very common among the Sonic fandom back when Sonic X was at the peak of its popularity online in the late 2000s and early 2010s. Ohohoho... man, those were some times. Now, I do like Sonic X and even Sonic Underground, but it’s frustrating how prevalent balloon faces are in these professionally--well, mostly professionally--made shows put to television. As demonstrated here:

On the left, the example keeps all the features of Amy’s face within the basic circle with no indication of volume. Nothing that would indicate what parts of the face are supposed to stick out and it’s not exactly in a style that makes it simplistic enough to slide. The right, while not perfect, could reasonably be translated to 3D or CGI and the anatomy would check out and make it more convincing. At least, in 3/4 view or front view and some frames of Sonic X can be brushed off as an odd camera angle or going into a moving frame or just being too far away from the camera to properly discern some features. In profile view it’s less forgivable and more common to Sonic Underground and beginning artists.

In profile view, balloon heads/painted-on faces are a very noticeable mistake derived from keeping all the features inside the circle. At the very worst you can have the inset in the middle, where the nose is inside the guide circle and looks very much like it was just painted on. This is something that most artists usually grow out of in their last years of elementary school (or for those who use the metric system, primary school). At best, the mistake is just sticking the nose on the outside of the circle without accounting for convincing shape of the face, such as the Amy sketch on the left. On the right, the muzzle and, if you can see it, “eyebrow” stick out to convey how the eyes are covered based on the Mobian skull and the muzzle sticks out to accommodate the internal structure of the face. As seriously as you can take a cartoon character’s anatomy and biology, anyway.

Really the only case I could see these mistakes being fine or harmless is on object heads like Lucius (a billiard ball) and Claire (a sugar bowl) in the rubber hose style. However, the style is deceptively easy in which it may look simple but you have to have a good grasp on the style or it falls into the uncanny valley. Balloon heads and painted on faces seem to be more common to stylized anthro characters, but I’ve made a number of fluffy anime creatures and anime-styled human characters in seventh grade that fall into the trap.

Lopping

More common to human and humanoid characters, lopping is a mistake in which you draw the face alright but the hair at the top of the head really doesn’t look right to the point that the head itself doesn’t look right.

You’ll notice in this drawing of Lapis that the face shape looks okay, the eyes and nose and mouth are where they need to be, the hair is the right style, but it looks... off. Sketching a dotted line to outline the head at its most basic form shows that the hair placement defies the rules of anatomy. Such a mistake is what I call lopping, as it looks like the head was lopped off and the hair is trying to cover it. This is why I stress starting your sketch with basic shapes and then constructing details around the foundation.

Looks much better, right? And since in Steven Universe the gems don’t really have ears (at least, that’s my observation), you can lightly sketch in an oval where the ears normally are (in 3/4 and profile views) to help draw in the face shape and jawline.

As always, practice drawing these regularly and don’t shy away from references if you need something to study or a visual aid or guide. Happy drawing!

Next episode: No plans, but will take requests or suggestions in my inbox/Discord.

[gothamangelwings]

Just saw the trailer for Scoob! And gotta say I have mixed feelings on it. First let me say I have been a Scooby-Doo fan my whole life and have seen every Scooby-Doo Project there is. (Including ‘The Scooby-Doo Project’) From ‘Where Are You?’ all the way up to ‘Return to Zombie Island’ (I regret that last one) I have kept up and seen all modern Scooby. My favorite series is ‘Mystery Inc’, I believe it’s one of the best and most gorgeous looking cartoons ever. I loved ‘Be Cool’, that show is hilarious. Daphne is the best thing ever on that show. I enjoy ‘Guess Who?’. And love the modern movies although those can be hit or miss.

Now for the trailer...

I loved the look of this movie. The character designs look amazing, Daphne and Velma look so pretty and puppy Scooby is adorable. The animation looks great. Absolutely not complaints on how it looks.

I love the dialogue, the writing is very funny, heartwarming and charming. I laughed out loud at the “Ikea” line. The part where Shaggy gives Scooby his collar for the first time and Scooby says “I’ll never take it off” was so sweet. Again no complaints here.

Now for the complaining... the voices. Mainly two of them. Let me start off my saying that I am not a fan of using celebrity voices over professional voice actors. WB had the perfect cast right there with Matthew Lillard, Frank Welker, Grey Griffin and Kate Micucci. But they chose recognizable names that they can put on the poster. Which, fuck you WB people know who Lillard is. Stop disrespecting him Hollywood!

Let’s start with Scooby-Doo. No complaints at all. He’s voiced by Frank Welker as he has been the past 17-18 years now. Perfect. I was people complaining on Twitter that Scooby doesn’t sound right. That you’re not supposed to be able to understand him, he’s supposed to replace the beginning of all words with Rs, he’s not supposed to speak in full sentences... blah, blah, blah.... I can’t believe I’m going to say this; but here it goes... “Okay boomer”... who obviously hasn’t watched any Scooby-Doo made past the 80s.  Because if you had been watching you would know that this is how Scooby has been sounding for nearly 20 years now and Frank Welker has been doing an excellent job as Scooby since taking over full time after Don Messik’s death. As for Scooby talking too much. Watch the above mentioned ‘Mystery Inc,’, ‘Be Cool’, ‘Guess Who’ and the modern DVD movies to hear how savage Scooby can be at times. It’s great. Anyway Scooby sounds pefect.

Moving on to Fred and Daphne. I’m just going to put these two together because I have basically the same things to say about both. They’re okay. Obviously I would prefer Frank Welker and Grey Griffin over Zac Effron and Amanda Seyfried but it’s okay. Not loving it, not hating it. Just okay. I need to hear more of Daphne tho because that one line we got in the trailer was just too much of a “whatever” attitude. But it was just one line.

Now for my two problem voices

Starting off with Velma. She just sounds like Gina Rodriguez. There is no attempt at a Velma voice being done here. it’s just Gina Rodriguez. And I don’t know who to blame for this honestly. Did she go into the audition thinking “eh whatever it’s an easy paycheck all I have to do is talk” or did she have a Velma voice ready to go and the voice director was like “Nah, don’t bother, just talk normally. We need people to know it’s you”

Finally Shaggy... Oh boy... Okay Shaggy Rogers has always been my favorite character in Scooby-Doo. And not just because of inside jokes about weed or power memes. I honestly love and respect this character; have my whole life. That’s why I adore Matthew Lillard as Shaggy, he is the perfect person to step into Casey Kasem’s shoes after his retirement and later unfortunate death. Lillard brings so much energy and heart to the role. And knowing that he was upset when he found out he was being recast for this theatrical movie upset me as well. It’s just insulting. But I thought it’s just one movie. Lillard isn’t losing his role as Shaggy full time, maybe Will Forte will be good. Sigh. It’s not. Will Forte’s Shaggy isn’t the worst but it’s not good either. Especially when they could have has Matthew Lillard instead! It doesn’t sound like a Lillard Shaggy or a Kasem Shaggy. You know what it sounds like... a Scott Menville Shaggy and that’s not good. In fact Menville’s Shaggy was horrible. We do not speak of ‘Shaggy and Scooby-Doo Get a Clue’. The other day I was talking to my mother who is also a Scooby fan. This is the conversation we had:

Me: “Well as long as Will Forte’s Shaggy doesn’t sound like Scott Menville I guess it will be fine.”

Mom: (Who never heard of ‘Get a Clue’) “Why? What was wrong with him?

Me: “You never heard Menville’s Shaggy voice? *shakes her head* Okay let me pull it up on youtube. It’s painful. You have to hear it”

Pulls up a clip. Mom here’s Shaggy talking for like 2 seconds.

Mom: “What the fuck? Make it stop.”

Me: “I know right.”

Mom: “Why did they do this?”

Me: “You know he was also the voice of Red Herring in ‘A Pup Named Scooby-Doo’.”

Mom: “Really?” (She loved the whole Red Herring gag in that show)

Me: “Yeah I never watched ‘Get a Clue’ for obvious reasons. But I’m pretty sure at the end they rip off Shaggy’s face and it’s Red Herring.”

Mom: “Sounds good to me”

Will Forte’s Shaggy isn’t as bad as Menville but it’s up there. I can listen to it for more that 30 seconds but it’s not great. It just sounds like a poor Shaggy impression. You know cause every guy thinks he can do a Shaggy impression and most can’t. Matthew Lillard would have been so much better. Matthew Lillard is Shaggy.

I probably will see this because I love Scooby-Doo and it looks beautiful and seems very funny. But the voices; excluding Scooby of course, WB you had your perfect cast already there. Why didn’t you use them? Oh yeah, because you needed names for the poster. Last names in larger font that the first. And you need “real” actors to do the talk show circuit. Not like Lillard and Micucci don’t have on camera experience and have been on talk shows before.