#fun fact my sibling gave me the prompt and it was intended to be a MLP prompt

[keklordkaotic]

Horsimus Prime. Drawing this was Hell and I refuse to take the blame. It’s Optimus Prime but a horse. I have nothing else to say.

[alexanderlightweight]

What about a scenario where Malec is already together before canon but his siblings don’t know(I thought of the ciderverse but doesn’t have to be if you think it fits better separate), and say they actually do need virgin shadowhunter energy for some reason. Cue Alec going count me out then, i definitely already gave that to love of my life(very magical pun intended), and him being like of course I wouldn’t tell you(jace/Izzy) you aren’t trustworthy enough to talk about my sex life with?

so i took a while to think about this and i think it's a fun prompt, i just can't figure out how/why alec would share any of that information with them that would work with my personal headcanons

because if they weren't trustworthy, then imo he definitely wouldn't share the fact that he'd had sex with either of them and there wouldn't be a situation where he'd do it in front of clary because it's none of her business.

i hope that makes sense!

lumine

[robininthelabyrinth]

I'm absolutely delighted your prompts are open! Your writing is amazing and always makes me smile, it's the best way to start the day along with a cup of coffee!

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are given another chance at raising a child after a family is killed leaving only a young child behind. Lan Sizhui is delighted to have a baby sibling. Though everyone is more or less nervous about it (mostly be Wei Ying is a gremlin) but also there isn't any other options.

ao3

“It’ll be fine,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “Hanguang-jun raised Lan Sizhui, didn’t he? And he turned out fine.”

“I did,” Lan Sizhui said agreeably, then frowned. “I think I did, anyway.”

“Not to be a spoilsport, but, realistically speaking, how much raising did Hanguang-jun actually do with you?” Jin Ling asked, and held up his hands when Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi both glared at him. “I don’t mean any offense or anything! I’m serious. We know he was in seclusion those first few years, right? Who raised you then?”

Lan Sizhui thought about it. “Back in the beginning? Well…that was mostly Teacher Lan, I guess.”

“Teacher Lan’s the best,” Lan Jingyi said loyally, then added, “Well, other than that fondness he has for surprise quizzes. But that’s not applicable to parenting, is it?”

Lan Sizhui made a face that suggested that maybe it was, in some weird way, shape, or form.

“Teacher Lan, really?” Jiang Cheng asked, clearly getting drawn in despite his best intentions – as was often the case. There was a reason their little group swung by the Lotus Pier nearly as often as they did the Cloud Recesses and Jinlin Tower, despite Jin Ling not living there part of the year any longer. “Wasn’t he mostly in recovery for those injuries he got during the war? I would’ve figured Zewu-jun would’ve been more involved, wouldn’t he?”

“He was around sometimes, but no, it was mostly Teacher Lan,” Lan Sizhui said. “Zewu-jun was often busy – he was rebuilding the Lan sect –”

“I was rebuilding the Jiang sect! So what? I still raised Jin Ling, and he wasn’t even supposed to be here – I had to fight the Jin sect for months just to get the opportunity – ”

“Yes, jiujiu, we know!” Jin Ling said hastily. “You don’t have to tell that story again! You didn’t have to tell everyone that story in the first place!”

Jiang Cheng huffed. He was probably going to tell the story again whether they liked it or not.

“I think I see what you’re saying, Jin Ling,” Ouyang Zizhen put in, always a good fellow for throwing himself on a conversational sacrificial sword. “If Lan Sizhui was already a few years old when he was adopted, and then Teacher Lan raised him for the next three years, then he would’ve been old enough to be entered into the Cloud Recesses’ official junior classes by the time Hanguang-jun took charge of his education, right?”

“Yes, that’s what I meant, that’s it exactly!”

“What does it matter?” Lan Sizhui asked.

“Yeah! Hanguang-jun still raised him the rest of the way,” Lan Jingyi put in, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring. “Gave him lessons and tips and all that!”

“Isn’t that something he does as a sect senior anyway?”

“Well, yes, but it’s different for Sizhui, okay?”

“I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with that. After all, the person who teaches the most is the same as the parent, and being the person raising them is what matters no matter when they’re adopted,” Jin Ling said, with an eye on Jiang Cheng, who looked begrudgingly pleased. He looked begrudging all the time, though, so it was probably just pleased. “But my point is – once you were part of the lessons, even if he was raising you the rest of the time, you still already mostly had your personality down by then, right? We’ve never seen what someone raised entirely by Hanguang-jun from birth would be like.”

They all stopped to consider that.

“More than that,” Jin Ling continued. “This kid’ll be raised not just by Hanguang-jun, but by Hanguang-jun as he is now – after he and Senior Wei got together. You know?”

They did know.

“And of course, that’s all putting aside that the kid will be raised by Senior Wei himself, too…”

“Maybe we should start investing in defense talismans,” Jiang Cheng mused. “Because everything is going to explode. Everything.”

-

“Everything will not explode,” Lan Wangji said calmly.

“Are you sure?” Wei Wuxian asked. “Because I’m not sure, and I’m more likely to be involved in these hypothetical explosions than you are.”

“Mm. I’m certain.”

“But…”

“Wei Ying will be an excellent father,” Lan Wangji said, and his voice left no room for doubt.

“It’s easy for you to say,” Wei Wuxian whined, though he was smiling now. “You already have the experience of it! They say that it’s easier the second time, when you know what to expect…”

“Do not tell lies,” Lan Qiren said mildly. He was looking over some of Wei Wuxian’s notes – he’d insisted on any new inventions passing through a sanctioned approval process before they were put into practice and had volunteered himself to review them, a matter that had caused Wei Wuxian no end of stress until he realized that Lan Qiren really did intend to approve anything that met his standards and, moreover, understood musical cultivation enough to understand what he was driving at with most of them, even the esoteric ones, at which point Wei Wuxian gotten extremely enthusiastic about the whole thing.

This didn’t mean that they were friends or anything, but they’d at least formed some sort of tentative truce.

Most of the time, anyway.

Wei Wuxian squinted at his old teacher suspiciously. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying that it’s not easier the second time?”

“I am only saying that I have experience in raising a child not my own,” Lan Qiren pointed out, and Wei Wuxian nodded, slightly abashed; he knew that the old man had basically raised Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen, of course, although sometimes he forgot. “The first child I raised was Xichen and his personality as a child was much as it was as an adult: gentle, amiable, friendly, obedient.”

That made sense. Wei Wuxian nodded.

“The second child I raised was Wangji,” Lan Qiren said. “He bit people.”

Wei Wuxian burst out laughing.

Lan Wangj virtuously ignored them both, continuing to write a letter without the slightest hint of embarrassment – even his ears hadn’t turned red. What a shame!

“I can testify to that myself,” Wei Wuxian giggled, leering at his husband in the hopes of getting a rise out of him. “He’s still a biter – for certain lucky people.”

“He was a lot less discriminating when he was younger,” Lan Qiren said, and Wei Wuxian winced, abruptly remembering that Lan Wangji’s uncle was, in fact, still in the room. Luckily it was pretty easy to flirt around Lan Qiren, who didn’t seem to notice most of the time, but it was still a bit awkward. “And I once succumbed to temptation and gave him mixed messages, which I believe made it worse.”

That sounded like a story.

“He gave me a candy after I bit Sect Leader Jin,” Lan Wangji clarified, which made Wei Wuxian start laughing again. “He did not expect me to remember. I remembered. Nor did I allow him to forget about it.”

“It is easy to make mistakes while raising a child,” Lan Qiren said, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s cackling. “But if one means well, and tries hard to do the right thing, children are very forgiving – usually.”

Despite his best efforts to remain neutral, Lan Wangji’s eyes curved slightly in a smile. Wei Wuxian felt his heart go all warm and melty all over again.

“This is true regardless of whether it is the first or second child,” Lan Qiren added. “I have confidence that you will both do fine.”

“We will,” Wei Wuxian proclaimed. “With parents like me and Lan Zhan, how could the kid go wrong? And we’ll even try to avoid too many explosions!”

“Please do. One Lan Jingyi is enough for the Cloud Recesses.”

“You know, I was wondering – how did you end up with him being quite so…hmm…”

“Oh?” Lan Qiren said, and Wei Wuxian noted to his amusement that Lan Wangji straightened in back in sudden alarm despite Lan Qiren’s extremely nonchalant tone. “Have you not met Lan Yueheng yet? I must introduce you when he returns –”

“Perhaps not,” Lan Wangji said, sounding a little worried.

Worried, in this case, meant fun.

“No, I think I definitely need to meet this person – Lan Zhan, stop batting at me! I know exactly what I’m doing…”

-

Wen Ning looked down at the baby with which he had been entrusted.

“I don’t have any idea what I’m doing,” he confessed.

The baby gurgled.

“I think Wei-gongzi may have been thinking more about ‘babysitter that doesn’t need to sleep and has inexhaustible energy’ and less about ‘is this person qualified to take care of a baby’.”

More gurgling.

“I just wanted to apologize in advance.”

The baby yawned.

“…right then.” Wen Ning straightened up. Someone was going to have to raise this child, and based on how distractable Wei Wuxian was when he was around Lan Wangji and visa versa, it looked like it was going to have to be him. “Let’s do this.”

[queerbutstillhere]

Are you still taking prompts? How about a Jondami and Robin!Reversal AU, where Damian's little Bros give Jon a shovel talk.

(Okay so I've gotten a lot of shovel talk requests, but this one immediately called to me. Thank you for sending it in!

Jon - 23, Damian - 20, Tim - 17, Jason - 14, Dick - 12 )

Jon hummed to himself as he flew over the greater part of Delaware and New Jersey. He hummed a little louder as he created a small sonic boom. He barely blinked as miles of fields and cities blurred beneath him.

He had one destination in mind tonight, and he intended to get there on time.

When he reached Gotham, it was nearing sunset. He didn't even hesitate to enter the city, despite the ban on metas, and weaved through the tall building seamlessly, flying across town and to Wayne Manor. The grounds security systems didn't even bother to activate, thanks to the device Damian had given him, a small beacon pin that told both the metahuman tracker and the manor security systems to ignore him. He had two of them, one was pinned to his uniform, the other lived on his keys so he wouldn't loose it.

He landed in front of the door and rang the doorbell, leaning against the wall as he waited, knowing it'd be a few minutes. Three minutes later, he heard footsteps, then the lock disengaging. And then the door swung open. It was opened by a child who barely reached Jon's chest.

"Dick! Hey there!"

"Hi Jon!" Dick said with a wide grin.

The twelve year old was wearing what appeared to be a school uniform, and had a water bottle in one hand, his messy black hair falling all over the place.

"Is Damian here?"

"He's downstairs with B."

"Oh. That explains why I couldn't hear him."

"Yup! Come in, they should be up here soon for dinner though!"

Dick let him inside and Jon glancing around, casting out with his hearing to note Alfred in the kitchen, and Tim and Jason in the living room. Dick started heading that way.

"Come on!" He said cheerfully, walking like everything was fine and dandy.

Jon followed him, despite the sudden gut feeling that he should go hang out with Alfred. They walked into the living room and instantly he wanted to turn around and walk to the kitchen. Tim and Jason were sat in two armchairs, the sofa on the other side of the coffee table.

"Have a seat, Jonathan," Tim said, motioning.

Jon sighed, looking down at Dick.

"I can't believe you set me up."

"Get used to it!" The kid ran away and jumped up to sit on Jason's arm rest.

Jon just sighed again and walked over, sitting on the empty sofa.

"We need to have a talk," Jason told him.

"About this." Tim set a phone on the coffee table. It was solid black, no personalization on the case, but Jon recognized it instantly.

"Uh. That's your brothers phone."

"Clearly."

"I didn't just lift a random phone off him, Jon, we know it's his," Jason said with an eyeroll.

"Okay, why do you have his phone?" Jon asked, warily.

"So we could hack it."

"Wait a minute-"

"Who gave you permission to date our brother?" Dick asked, crossing his arms and glaring at Jon.

"Can we just talk about the fact that you hacked his phone?"

"Okay, technically we didn't hack it. We made Dick ask to play games on it."

"What did they offer you, Dick?"

None of them answered. Jon narrowed his eyes.

"You're getting off topic," Jason said, redirecting the conversation. "We want to know why you're dating Damian."

"Does Bruce know?"

"We haven't told him."

"Okay. I'm dating him because I really really like him," Jon said, willing to cave to the brothers, considering how long they'd actually been dating without the families knowledge.

"How long?" Dick asked, surprisingly menacing for a tiny twelve year old.

"A year."

"A what?!" Jason exclaimed, eyes wide.

Jon shrugged.

"Why you- I oughta!"

Tim held out a hand to stop Jason.

"Not yet. We still have some things to discuss. When did Damian give you access to Gotham?"

"Uh, like, five years ago, Tim. It's been eons."

"When were you going to tell us?"

"When Damian decided to. It wasn't up to me."

"And if it was, would you have told us?"

"Not if Damian didn't want me to."

"And why wouldn't he have wanted us to know?" Tim asked, eyebrow arching.

"Well maybe because he knew you'd attempt some elaborate shovel talk like this!"

The three brothers exchanged glances.

"So you recognize that if you hurt him we will kill you?" Jason asked.

"If I hurt him, I know very well that He'll hurt me, let alone you guys. He knows how, he has kryptonite."

"And what exactly does he do with that Kryptonite?" Jason asked, tilting his head.

The look he was giving Jon sent chills down his back.

"Oh, my God! You're fourteen, you should NOT be thinking about that!"

"For the record? I read your texts, I know very well what he does with it," Tim inputted, wincing. "And I want to burn my eyes."

"Are you- are you kidding me?! That's it."

Jon stood, reaching out and snatching Damian's phone before anyone else could.

"I've had enough of this. Not only have you illegally accessed his phone, you have breached both his and I's privacy by reading our text conversations. That is unacceptable and you can be damn well sure I'm telling him about this. Tim, I'm disappointed in you, acting like this. You should know better."

Jon turned to march out, feeling anger boiling in his body.

"If you tell him, then I'll have no choice but to tell Bruce, and you know he'll immediately disable your beacons."

Jon froze, turning back to Tim, who had also stood, smirking wickedly.

"Not only that, but we might just leak that pretty background of his."

Oh no. The background was a photo of them at the pool last year, they were both shirtless, and Damian was sat in Jon's lap. They were kissing. The lock screen was totally different, however, to avoid suspicion.

"Okay, now you're blackmailing me? Geesh Tim, you're more of a sadistic shit then Kon said."

"He has no idea the lengths I'll go to in order to protect my big brother."

Jon sighed, rubbing his face.

"Okay. Fine. I won't tell Damian what we talked about or that you got in his phone. As long as you promise not to do it again and promise not to tell Bruce."

The three brothers exchanged glances.

"No manipulating. Either you agree or you don't."

"That won't be a problem," Tim said with a sweet smile.

His heart ticked up a bit.

"Are you really trying to bullshit me? Tim I'm literally a human lie detector."

"You think I'm lying to you?"

"I'm dating your brother, I can tell when one of you bats is lying, I had to learn. So I don't think you're lying. I know you are."

Tim scowled. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know what, fine. I'm telling him. And I can bet he won't be very impressed."

"Tell who what?"

The brothers eyes all went wide as their gaze snapped to the doorway behind Jon. Jon recognized that voice immediately. Of course he did, he had been hearing that voice for ten years, and knew exactly what it'd sound like when begging.

"Damian."

He turned around, smiling brightly at his boyfriend.

"Hello, Jonathan... Why do you have my phone?"

"Oh, your brothers broke into it, read our texts, tried to give me a shovel talk and are now blackmailing me."

Damian hummed. "Blackmailing you with what?"

"Telling Bruce, leaking photos of us, and deactivating my access to Gotham."

Another hum, and he nodded for a second. The eldest child turned his gaze to his younger siblings.

"Well, I'll have you know, your first threat is useless. Father already knows. Secondly, that is a breach of privacy, as is reading our texts, and should you do so, the repercussions will not be enjoyable. Additionally, not even you, Drake, can take away his access," Damian said smoothly, snatching his phone from Jon's hand. "Thank you for telling me, beloved. And I apologize for their behavior."

Jon smiled at him. "It's okay, not your fault."

"Ugh! Damian why can't you let us have our fun?!" Jason protested, glaring at his older brother.

"Because you have nothing to worry about. Jon is a good man, and a good boyfriend. But. If giving him a shovel talk is all you really need to accept our relationship, then go ahead. You have-" he looked at his watch. "Five minutes until dinner."

"Wait, what?!" Jon asked, turning to Damian again.

"You'll be fine, beloved. I'll see you at dinner!"

Damian walked over, kissed him quickly, much to the dismay of his sibling, and then walked away.

"Damian!"

"You're a invincible alien, Kent, you'll be fine."

And so his boyfriend abandoned Jon with his three younger siblings, who all grinned at Jon like he was a fish among sharks.

"Oh no."

[madamewriterofwrongs]

Tagged by: @fyeahbuddie @tylerhunklin @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @gracieli @oneawkwardcookie

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome work!

Like I said in another post, I don’t have favourites, exactly. I have fics that others enjoyed, fics I’m proud of, fics I wish more people had read, etc. I’ll try and talk about why I picked these five pieces.

Faith, Trust, and Magic (BBC Merlin - Merlin/Morgana) Chapter 3/? 5381 Words

A rewrite of episode 2x03 “The Nightmare Begins” where Merlin helps Morgana with her magic.

Technically, the first chapter of this series was written in 2018 but this year, I plotted the entire story and posted two more chapters. The concept is one I’m quite passionate about and I really want to finish it one day. Unlike the hilarious theory that barely anything would have to change in canon for Merlin and Arthur to be together, I believe everything would have been different if Merlin had helped Morgana when she was coming into her magic. This one decision would have changed the entire series. I want to give Morgana a happy ending.

Spark of Joy (9-1-1 - Buck & Maddie) Chapter 1/1 3076 Words

Firefam Christmas Party 2021 from the Buckley siblings’ perspectives.

This is one of my worst performing fics but rereading it (or thinking about it) makes me happy. It’s pure gentleness/contentment and especially at the beginning of my time in the 911 fandom, I was in love with the idea of letting the people of the 118 find peace in their lives. Give them a break! So I wrote this piece that was like a snapshot of how good life could be for the Buckley siblings and had these little sparks of hope for the future. Despite it’s low stats, I really enjoyed writing and reading this fic. It gives me the warm and fuzzies. 

Love Me Well (9-1-1 - Buck/Eddie) Chapter 1/1 2626 Words

Soulmate AU in which Eddie remembers but Buck meets him for the first time in every life. 

I don’t think I’ve ever done prompt fills before this year and this was one of my first ones. While I still prefer to use purely my imagination, I had fun trying to think of what @zeethebooknerd might enjoy within the world my brain was creating based on the prompt she gave me. This was also one of my first AUs (I love reading them but I never really wrote them before). A lot of firsts. On top of that, I got super soft and emo over the boys in my head, and let my inner hopelessly dramatic romantic out to play - something I started doing more of after this. 

Speaking of firsts.

Use Your Words (9-1-1 - Buck/Eddie) Chapter 1/1 4236 Words

Part 5 in the Show and Tell Series where Eddie gets out of his head while getting head.

Honestly, I really like the Show and Tell series and the more research/work I put into the entries, the more proud I feel about what I’m creating. Use Your Words was particularly difficult because I had never written smut before. I also have less than stellar sexual education, so I did a lot of research to make sure I was at least writing something anatomically correct. In the series, I introduced an Eddie that used sex as a way of avoiding intimacy in relationships but was working on opening up to his boyfriend. I also introduced an Eddie who was learning to ask for things that he wanted (in essence, he was allowing himself to be selfish). Combining the two made a lot of sense to me, so I decided to challenge myself as a writer and create this entry. 

Unashamed (9-1-1 - Buck/Eddie) Chapter 12/12 17178 Words

A series of married Buddie getting into awkward hi-jinx because they can’t stop flirting with each other.

I mean for one: I so rarely finish a series. In fact, this is the first time I finished a series in years so for that alone, I’m proud. I also managed to turn a 900 word crack-fic into a 12 chapter story so, again, yay. This was still a part of me ‘contentment’ obsession so there’s lots of happy things in there. I challenged myself to write the entire thing from an outside perspective which was really fun and created a lot of second-hand embarrassment. But there’s also a chapter about polyamorous acceptance, and queer love in the workplace, and dealing with rejection. I didn’t intend to put that much work into to it but I found it wasn’t really in me to just slap something together.

I’m cheating and picking a sixth. Sue me, Buck.

Finding Home (9-1-1 - Buck/Eddie) Chapter 1/1 1038 Words

Two boys lie in bed and one of them tells a love story.

I wrote this one on my phone in the middle of the night because it was just rolling around in my head and would not let me sleep. I don’t think it’s my strongest piece, and it wasn’t the first or last time I would have to pull out my phone in the middle of the night to write story notes that refused to leave me be. The reason I chose this one is because it marks a shift in my mind. Before this year (really, May 2020), I barely wrote. I wrote the @midweekupdate every week, I even completed NaNoWriMo with an original novel. But I was rarely inspired to just write. I didn’t have words and phrases plague me until I had to relinquish them upon the world. But that’s what this was. And it still happens every once in a while. Where I have things in my head that I just have to write (if you follow me, you might see midnight posts under the CJ Writes Things tag that make zero sense but sound kind of pretty). Writing this gave me hope that this thing I love isn’t gone even when I have dark periods. 

Tagging: @zeethebooknerd @elisela @softboiidiaz @oliverstark @rydergrace @florenceandthemachine @eddiediaz @fyeahbuddie @bellakitse @howtosingit @from-nova

[hardforbenhardy]

the perfect gift | benxfem!reader

summary: the first time ben is meeting your parents, and you are nervous. but not as nervous as you are to give ben his present

warnings: intense fluff so prepare yourself coz ben is a d o r a b l e in this

based on two prompts: "that's what your wearing?" and "i tested positive"

word count: 4.5k

thought i'd do a little christmassy themed oneshot considering it was ... yakno... christmas; it’s been in my drafts for a while so there’s no better time than the present (no pun intended😊) i had fun writing this so i hope you have fun reading it! :)

Christmas had always been the same; through the 27 years of your life, you stuck to your traditions. You would always spend the time with your whole family, with the traditional Christmas roast and gift-giving. You loved it; you were extremely close with all your family, and spending time with them was always cherished since it only happened twice a year. However, there was one part that you couldn't stand. The worst part of it all was the fact that every year you were the only adult who was yet to find a relationship. All your siblings, your parents, aunt and uncles, grandma and grandpa, even some of your older cousins; they were all coupled up. You had even tried to convince them one year that you had finally found yourself a man; of course, you had simply bribed your best friend to pretend to be your boyfriend for the one day. He, however, was not as good of an actor as you thought he would be - caving in after only 3 hours in the household by accidentally spilling that he was in fact gay.

Though, this year you didn't have to pretend; you had finally found a man who you truly loved. He was the spitting image of what you considered perfection and you were sure he was the one. You and Ben had taken your relationship quite quickly, you had only been together for 10 months and yet you had already moved into a house together and adopted a small puppy. Though, you didn't see it as a particularly bad thing; you knew for certain that he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, the man you wanted to start a family with, grow old with. And you were also pretty certain that you were that woman for him; I mean, that's what he told you every single day. Every morning as you sat around the table to eat your breakfast; every lunch time when you'd facetime him from the office; every evening when you were snuggling in bed and he just had to mention it, which of course often led to more. You were absolutely hooked onto him, like a baby to a bottle; you simply couldn't resist him. So showing him off to your family was assuredly what you were most looking forward to this Christmas. You had already met Ben's family, and so it was now his time.

The two of you were about to leave to drive down for Christmas Eve, and the nerves were beginning to set in; what if they didn't like Ben? What if they thought you were both moving too fast? What if the nieces and nephews didn't want to play with him? What if they all took one glance at Ben and thought he could do better? You saw Ben as an angel, but you didn't know about them; after all, your mother had always wanted the perfect step-son.  She had been pretty adamant about it from the start. Nevertheless, you brushed the nerves off and paid attention to curling your hair. Your concentration was broken, however, by the sight of Ben entering the bedroom in the reflection of the mirror in front of you. You grinned widely at the sight before you, or rather behind you, as the strapping blonde man strode in wearing what you noticed to be a rather formal suit considering the fact you were only attending a Christmas dinner with your family. In fact, it was extremely formal considering the fact you were only attending a Christmas dinner with your family; meaning you couldn't help but giggle.

"That's what your wearing? Baby, we're going to my parents for Christmas, not a wedding!"

"What? I wanted to impress them!" He exclaimed rather seriously, which made you chuckle before standing up off the little stool to walk towards him to give him a small peck on the cheek; which funnily made him blush like a madman. That was something you loved about Ben; he seemed like every day he saw you was as if he was seeing you for the first time again. Somedays, he acted like a horny teenager who couldn't resist your touch. Other days, he acted like you were made of glass, as if you were the most precious, fragile thing on the earth which led to being peppered with little kisses and hugs of every form whenever he saw you. And other days, he acted like he was made of glass, and would blush or smile every time you even placed a gentle finger on him; and you had a strong feeling, this was one of those days. "I mean, what if they don't like me, or they don't think I'm good enough for their daughter? What do we do then? Because I love you, I really really love you and I want to spend my whole life with you but I can't do that if your family doesn't like me because-“

"Baby, I know they're going to love you, okay. Maybe not as much as I do, but trust me; my mum is going to take one look at you and she'll treat you like the son she never had. You look gorgeous, and as much as I am admiring the way you look in this suit, you need to change. Swap the shirt and tie out for a tshirt, and the tapered pants for some of your nice jeans." you encourage him, stroking his upper arm lightly and smiling up at his face which looked extremely defeated. You could sense the anxiety emanating from his body, he was just as nervous to meet your parents as you were for them to meet him. But you didn't tell him that, because you didn't want to worry him anymore than he already was. He simply nodded, taking a deep breath and unsleeving his arms from the blazer so that he could unbutton his shirt. You pushed his hand out the way and did it yourself, after seeing the way his hands were pretty much shaking. He still preoccupied himself, beginning to pull his trousers off to fasten the pace, as he knew you needed to set off soon to make it in time.

Once he was dressed in more appropriate clothing, which you deemed suitable for a first impression, you were finally able to leave for your parents. The car journey over there was a little less stressful, as Ben had began to calm down and forget all about his little moment in the morning. However, as you stood outside your parent's house, your own nerves began to set in. You had arrived a lot later than you expected to, having been stuck in traffic for a lot of the journey. Your hand trembled as you went to ring the doorbell, Ben stood a step behind you so that your parents would be able to greet you first. The door swung open after a few seconds, revealing the bright cheery face of your mother.

"Darling, hello! It's lovely to see you! Come in, come in!" she cheered, stepping to the side to allow you and Ben to enter. You gave her a warm hug as you walked in, in which she responded with a small kiss to your temple. Your father entered the room too, a smile emerging on his face, and you couldn't help but laugh as you noticed the apron he was wearing; it was the same one he wore every single year, with an awful christmas pun which to be honest was not a suitable apron to wear around children.

"Mum! Dad! I've missed you so much! Sorry we were late - the traffic was awful" you squealed, pulling your dad in for a hug as well, until you looked to the side to see Ben standing there incredibly awkwardly as you greeted your parents. "Mum, Dad, I'd love for you to meet my boyfriend, Ben"

"It's nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs LN. Thank you for having me, especially during a time which is meant for spending time with family" He greeted, holding his hand out to shake my fathers, but rather he pulled Ben in for a hug. You then realised you had completely forgotten to mention to Ben quite how open and friendly your family were, meaning he had quite a shocked reaction to the sudden embrace.

"Please, call us Lydia and Michael. And you are part of this family Ben; any friend of YN's is a friend of ours, lovie. Now why don't the two of you head up to your room and settle down - that way, you'll be awake in time for tomorrow morning when the kids come up and completely wreck your lie-in!" Your mum whisper-yelled, chuckling as she handed your suitcases over to your dad to help you haul them up the flights of stairs to your old childhood room that you and Ben were planning to stay in for the next two nights. Admittedly, you were a bit embarrassed considering you knew your mother hadn't changed anything about your room since you were 18 and moved out to University, so you were in for an awkward and humiliating moment when Ben first saw the posters of Roger Taylor and Queen all over your wall like you were some kind of crazy fangirl. Which, of course, you were but you didn't even think about having to explain that until now.

After a good 10 minutes of Ben laughing at your seemingly-passionate devotion to the band, you had finally settled down in your bed, which was thankfully a double. It was rather cold, being wintertime, so you and Ben were cuddled up extremely close together under bundles of blankets in an attempt to keep some warmth between you. You spent a majority of your nights curled up like this, Ben's touch providing a haven for you. And just like every other night, you ended it with the same words.

"I told you they'd love you, you practically had my mum wrapped around your finger!" You grinned, poking Bens stomach jokingly as he released a low chuckle at your point. He knew you were right, because you had mentioned that your mother was often more removed from people if she didn't like them.

"Okay, okay; I was worried for nothing, I'll admit it! But I had every right to be!" He defended himself, his warm breath on your shoulder sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but cuddle closer, wrapping your arms around his torso and place your head in the nook of his shoulder.

"I know, I know; I really do love you Ben"

"I love you too"

*****

You were woken by the feeling of a small body pouncing onto your stomach, shouting and cheering filling the otherwise silent room; "Aunty Yn, Unca Bwen! Wake up! It's Christmas Day! And Santa's come!"

You chuckled, partly at your nieces urgency to get downstairs and open some presents, but mainly at Ben's low groan at being woken at 7 in the morning. Your heart softened at her reference to Ben being her Uncle, and not just a random man who had joined the family for the day. You urged the 4 year old to move off you so you could climb out of bed, grabbing the dressing gown screwed up in the floor and pushing your arms through the sleeves. "Lilah, give us 10 minutes and we'll be right down, okay?"

"Okay!" She squealed, wrapping her tiny arms around your legs before running off to shout to her brother Jackson that you'd be down in "twen" minutes.

"Baby, wake up" You whispered, shaking Bens arm lightly and kissing his forehead, only to hear him grunt and roll to face the other way. "Tired"

"So am I, but it's Christmas hun; come on, I want my presents!" You giggled, giving him a shove and jumping out of bed to tie the newly-clad gown. Ben pulled himself off the mattress and lugged over to the en-suite bathroom, mumbling that he was taking a quick shower before they head down. In the meanwhile, you busied yourself with helping your mum out in the kitchen to prepare Christmas dinner.

"Is Ben not joining us this morning?"

"He's just taking a quick shower, he'll be down soon" you explained, chopping the veg; you found yourself grinning at the mention of his name. Of course, your mother noticed this.

"You seem perfect for each other, you know. He seems like a very lovely lad too; your father and I are very happy you have found yourself someone" She smiled, elbowing your side a little which made you chuckle and grin widely; you were extremely happy that your parents actually accepted Ben into the family so unquestionably, and liked him. "So when can Michael and I expect more grandchildren!"

You saw the question coming; there was no doubt that your mother loved being a grandmother to Lilah and Jackson. But they were getting older now, Jackson being 7 and Lilah being 4, and Lydia desperately wanted a baby to care for. So, your next words came like a haven to her.

"What if I have reason to believe roughly 9 months?" You mumbled, placing your hand on your stomach and looking up at your mum with nervous eyes. Her own eyes widened in shock and happiness, taking in your words.

"You mean? You're pregnant?" She whispered, not wanting the rest of the house to hear. You nodded, worried your mother would think you and Ben were moving too fast, having only been together for roughly 10 months. "Darling, oh my gosh, that's amazing! I'm so happy! Does Ben know?"

"No not yet; in fact only you know. I was planning on telling him today, and the rest of the family, but I'm seriously beginning to second guess everything; what if Ben doesn't want the baby? I mean, we're not even married and Ben is always away for press tours and filming. What if he thinks we're moving too fast? I don't want to scare him away-" You stumbled, tears beginning to brim your eyes. Whether it was the hormones or your nerves you didn't know; but it was most likely a mixture of both. Your mother hushed you, rubbing your arm in a way to calm you down as she understood you tended to over worry about a lot; and of course, this is an extremely reasonable thing to worry about.

"Lovie, look; you will not scare Ben away. I see the look of lust in that boys eyes when he looks at you, and I can tell just how much he really loves you. This is a big thing, of course it is, but you need to tell Ben; whether you plan on keeping the child or not. He deserves to know, and if he turns you away then he was never a gentleman to begin with. You have this whole family to support you the whole way, but at the end of the day; it is both yours and Bens decision" She comforted, her words calming you a little as you realised she was right. You couldn't just not tell Ben, it was his child and you were a couple. And, to be completely honest, you were excited as hell to start a family with the man you considered the love of your life. The only reason you were hesitant with this was because you and Ben had literally never spoke about having children or starting a family, so you didn't have his opinion on the matter to fall back on. The moment between your mother and you was interrupted by the man himself, hugging you from behind and pressing a small kiss to your neck.

"Hiya love, everything okay?" He muttered, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you continue to chop the carrots as you were before the conversation with your mother. You hummed, leaning back into his touch, hoping he hadn't heard the previous conversation between you and your mother. You felt the smile on his lips against your skin, and he tucked his head into your neck.

"Why don't you go and meet my siblings huh? I'll be in in a few minutes, just finishing up with this" You suggested, to which he nodded and placed a small kiss to your temple, before walking into the living room to join your family. You could hear the loud voices of your older brother, Sam, and his wife greeting Ben from the other room, and painfully worried that Ben wouldn't get too nervous as your brother tended to be quite boisterous at times. In fact, your whole family did; which was extremely different to Ben's family who were much more calm and collected. Although by the sight you received entering the room a few minutes later, you were immediately filled with joy; the sight of Ben sat on the living room floor, cross legged, with Lilah on his lap and Jackson sat beside him, as he read them a story Lilah had begged him to. You were a little confused as to how he was getting on with them all so well; Lilah didn't usually warm up to people so well unless she had been properly introduced. And your mum was usually very judgemental of your boyfriends that you had brought home before. And your brother was often extremely protective over you. And your sister would most likely try to steal any guy you brought home and have him for herself.

You can't help but admire the way he is around the 2 children; it's as if he's done the whole parenting thing before. Lilah was smiling so widely, you thought her face was going to get permanently stuck like that. The two were amazingly engaged as he spoke the words on the page, acting out the story with little actions and different voices,  making sound effects when needed. Your brother's wife, Sophia, walked up to you with a small grin on her face before mumbling "You've got a good one there, don't ruin it" in your direction as she passed by to enter the kitchen. At the sight before you, you realised exactly how correct she was. You had got someone in your life who you could never lose; you'd be a fool to ruin what you and Ben had. So of course, you began second guessing telling him the news once again. If you told him the truth, he may leave and then you've lost him for good. But seeing just how well he was around the children and how engaged he was, you actually considered that this was a good idea.

The time came to finally exchange presents; no doubt after the children had nagged the adults for 20 minutes straight, asking "when can we open them?". The children spent the most time opening presents, getting excited after each one and showing it off to every single adult in the room. You were sat on the small armchair; well Ben was, and you were perched on his lap, an arm around his neck and head rested on his shoulder. You were admittedly beginning to grow impatient at telling Ben the news; as much as you didn't want to tell him, waiting to do it was becoming painful because it only gave you more time to re-evaluate your decision. Thankfully, your mother had finished giving everyone her gifts, so it was the end and you could give Ben his. You rushed out of the room to where your coat hung up, pulling out a small box that was wrapped in paper and had a bow placed on the top. Ben noticed the box and furrowed his brows, even more so when you went to hand it to him.

"YN, we agreed we weren't doing presents this year?" he questioned, hesitantly taking the box from your hand, almost as if he expected it to explode in his hand. You nodded your head a little, understanding his confusion. Honestly, you forgot that you had agreed to not give each other presents this year because you had spent quite a lot of money so far on your relationship, first buying the house and then investing in a pet.

"I-I know, but you wouldn't have got any other gifts, and I think you'll like this one" You mumbled, urging him to open it and trying to hide your nerves from Ben as you knew he had a strange talent of noticing when you were hesitant to do something. He was like a human radar; he knew when you were happy, sad, angry, nervous, excited. He had a mental notebook of all your habits for each emotion, so he could probably tell that you were absolutely bricking it right now. But you assumed that he just thought this because you were nervous he wouldn't like the gift; which you were, but he didn't realise why. He took his sweet time opening the present, unwrapping it slowly considering he had all eyes of the room on him at that moment, alongside the glare of a camera that your mother had pulled out in excitement of the moment. As he opened the flaps to the small cardboard box underneath the wrapping paper, his eyes widened and his whole body froze. You can't deny, so did yours. He slowly pulled out the small stick out of the shadows of the box to reveal two small pink lines on the small screen.

"A-are you... is this real?" he mumbled, looking up to meet your eyes. You saw the tears beginning to pool at the bottom of his eyes, and you saw a glint of happiness. You nodded, awaiting his reaction.

"I tested positive."

You didn't know if this was a good reaction or a bad one because he didn't really show much emotion on his face. That was until a giant smile stretched across his face and his hands dropped the box so that he could wrap his arms around you. It was rather sudden, but he took you into the tightest hug you'd ever felt; his head rested against your shoulder and you felt the tears of joy seeping into your jumper. You obviously hugged back, relieved that he was actually happy about this.

"I-I'm gonna be a dad? W-We're gonna be parents?" He continued questioning, unable to believe any of this was true because he didn't think contentment like this could exist. You could barely speak your own words, only having the ability to nod and cry as well as Ben.  The whole family was now cheering with you, Lilah jumping on your lap to give you the biggest hug she possibly could, exclaiming that she couldn't wait to have a little cousin she could play with. Well, you assumed that's what she said, considering most of her words were indistinguishable.

"I can't believe this, this is the best day of my fucking life. God, we're gonna be parents in 9 bloody months, love. I love you so much, and you too" he gushed, tears brimming in his eyes once again and also yours. He bent down and gently kissed your practically-non-existent bump as he whispered "and you too" and you couldn't help but admire how well he took the news; you certainly didn't expect this much of a reaction from him and you felt a little stupid for ever second guessing yourself. Of course, being the bundle of nerves Ben tended to be, started questioning everything; "How far along are you? Have you been feeling ill? Because I'm sorry if I haven't been much help to make you feel better but I don't recall hearing you being sick of anything in the mornings so I don't know-"

"Ben, I've been fine so far; I'm only a month along and I've only had two instances of morning sickness, both of which you weren't home for so you don't have to worry. I suppose I've felt a little under the weather recently but nothing that I couldn't cope with." You explained, which brought comfort to Ben as he knew you weren't suffering too much in the time being. Though, he had heard of how harsh pregnancy can be for some women and he prayed to the Lord that you would not be one of the small percentage.

*****

After finding out the exciting news, Ben had been non-stop protecting you like you were a piece of glass; not that he didn't before, he just did it a lot more intensely now. Every time you tried to sit down or stand up, he would help you so that you didn't 'strain your back'. Every time you went up the stairs, he would walk right behind you. Every time you yawned, he asked if you wanted to go to bed and insisted you had an early night so that you and 'bean' were well rested. Oh yes, and he had nicknamed the growing child 'bean'. You, thankfully, now found yourself wrapped up in the covers of your duvet after a long Christmas day and could not wait to fall asleep. Ben had jumped in beside you and cuddled close so that he could rest his hand on your stomach and head on your shoulder. You were so close to being asleep, until Ben decided to create conversation.

"You know, I thought your boobs had gotten bigger, but I didn't want to mention it in case you thought I was complaining" He mumbled into your neck, which woke you up immediately. You slapped his arm and chuckled loudly, making him wince in pain a little.

"They've also gotten a lot more sore so no touching. And alongside that, I constantly need to pee, very gassy and am continually getting mood swings; so good luck for the next 9 months because you're officially dating a zombie" you countered, making him chuckle gleefully. He didn't care how disgusting or gross you may have seen yourself; you were still beautiful to him and he was going to let you know that every day.

"A gorgeous zombie who I love very very much and is literally bringing my child into the world; with my help, of course." He smirked, making you roll your eyes because you completely understood what he meant by 'his help'.

"I'm so happy that your happy and I can't wait to have a family with the love of my life"

"And I can't wait either" He grinned, feeling happiness he had never felt before in his life. Now, all he had to do was propose; luckily, he'd been planning it all along

[el-gilliath]

2019 Creator Tag

I got tagged by @prouvaireafterdark

Rules: Time to love ourselves! Choose 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, arts, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2019. Tag as many creators as you want to spread the love!

Hooooo boy, I’m not the best at picking things amongst my stuff that I love because I honestly try to love it all even if I see all the flaws. But here it is, in no particular order.

1. The Cowboy Vigilante (M - 9242 words) Is it a little tiny bit of a cheat to pick a series? Maybe. Do I care? Honestly, no. This thing started by the fault of @lsobelevans and her gorgeous edit found here. I salivated at the through at the thought of making something based on this edit, because it is so up my alley that I don’t have words for it. I love this premise, I adore this series and more than anything, I love how I can text Lucie at random hours of the day about ideas or just OOOOOO about something and she usually responds with a keysmash and I’M SO EXCITED. A bond has been made, people, and I am dying to write the last four parts and share them too. 

2. I Thought You Didn’t Love Me (T - 6575 words) What can I say. Angst and hopeful endings are my honest to life bread and butter. I love it in my reading, I love it in my writing. It’s what I do best, because it reflects exactly who I am as a person and the dark yet optimistic nature of my entire self. This piece just encompasses everything, anger, pain, misunderstandings, furious natures but also love and loss in a way, even if I had the hardest time not to angst it up more and had to be yelled at by @bestillmyslashyheart (thank you babe).

3. It’s All In A Hat (T - 2428 words) We also all know by now that @christchex is my beloved, she raises me up so I can stand on mountains and walk on stormy seas. We also know how much Christi loves the hat and Arturo. This fic was a love letter to her, a chance for me to angst and do hopeful, and a chance for me to express how much I also love the hat. And Christi. It might not be the best thing I’ve written, but everything that it means just makes it so much better.

4. Because I Could Not Stop For Death (M - 18348 words) Every time I’m asked about my favored stories this comes up. Why? Because I did one hell of a job with it. @seeaddywrite gave me the perfect prompts, which gave me the perfect ideas, which gave me the story I might love more than anything. I am so fucking proud of this story, and I will continue to be so. It hold my perfect mix of angsty and hopeful, while also incorporating bonds, Science Bros RNM, Sibling Love and a damn good cosmic connection. I will continue to be proud of this forever.

5. The Darkness Within (E - 24213 words) Ahh yes, the AU where the Alien Squad are raised differently, have soulmates(Intendeds as I call them) and run around the country killing bad men. This is the story I wrote for me, the first thing I started writing after 6 years of not writing a word. At this point I write it for me more than anything, but that just makes it more special. The fact that @hannah-writes helps me out and makes me better, creating a beautiful friendship between us is just icing on the cake <3

+1. Live So Close To The Truth (G - 15399words) I only lent my voice to this, @nielrian @irolltwenties and @christchex did the heavy lifting but holy hell was it fun. Reading the story is amazing, but also listening to the glorious voices in the pod cast and just knowing I was a part of this as both voice and cheerleader? It makes my heart grow fonder than you can imagine.

I’m gonna tag @jumbled-nonsense @isakvaltersnake @bisexualalienblast @bestillmyslashyheart @ohstarlings @chasingshhadows @seeaddywrite @andrea-lyn and @hannah-writes because I don’t think you guys have done it <3

[allisondraste]

5 Questions

I was tagged by @tortuosity-writes.  Thank you!  I’m going to answer about my current WIP, Temperance , which is my primary writing focus at this point!

1.) What was the idea that started the story?

It all started with an angst prompt of “Going somewhere?” which I filled and which involved me throwing a wrench into the relationship between Alistair and my Warden OC, Lucia.  To summarize, Luce goes to Amaranthine without Alistair and he assumes the worst.  Once I did that terrible thing, I immediately had to write a fix-it fic in which I put them back together (It’s here, although its no longer completely accurate).  Now, as part of this fix-it fic, I created a Cousland OC with the express purpose of being another wrench in Alistair and Lucia’s relationship.  I did not even bother to come up with a unique name for her, as I expected to use her once and toss her to the side after a squished my OTP back together angstily.  Unfortunately, the unforseeable happened.  Elissa, or “Liss” as I had begun to call her endearingly, developed this charming little personality, and quickly became a favorite character of mine.  She was equal parts kind, funny, and strong, and I just knew that I could not end her story with her being tossed to the side.  She deserved better!  

Prior to writing the story, I had just begun another playthrough of Dragon Age Awakening, and I developed an obsession with mild interest in Nathaniel, and so he ended up becoming Lucia’s main companion in her quest to Denerim to repair her relationship with Alistair.  I originally intended, right until the middle of the story for him and Anora to have A Thing.  However, as the story was drawing to a close, and as I became to Liss, it hit me.  A Nate/Cousland pairing would be really fun and solve my problem.  Not only would it let me do something with my new OC, but it also gave me a reason to explore Nathaniel’s character further, and to write a story that allowed me to explore themes I love like coming of age, resilience, and intimacy that defies any typical sense of the word.   Thus the fic was born. 

2.) Did you make an outline? Did you stick to it?

Back in March of 2019, I sat down for three hours and mapped out the fic.  I knew that I needed some semblance of structure because my one previous attempt at a long fic failed miserably due to my lack of plan and direction.  Also because I intended to jump back and forth between the past and the present, with certain key moments mirroring one another.  I knew that it would take some forethought to make that work.  I started out with 25 chapters to complete the story, and estimeated a wordcount of about 72K.  While I stuck to the original pattern, I realized that there was so much more of the story (particularly the past) that I wanted to tell, and so I ended up adding chapters.  My chapters also grew in length. So now I have 41 chapters plus an epilogue planned, and I just finished up Chapter 30. 

3.) What’s the favorite part of your story?

It’s really hard to say what is my favorite part of the story since it is in progress, but I do know that there are certain types of scenes that I have enjoyed writing the most.  I’ve really loved delving into platonic relationships, especially the relationship between Nathaniel and Fergus, which is something that just organically developed as I was writing.  I loved delving into family dynamics and the different relationships that these characters had with one another.  

Outside of that, proably my favorite part(s) so far have been when Liss and Nate first met, Nate’s last summer in Highever, the reunion, and the most recent chapter that I based off of Nate’s entry in World of Thedas Vol. 2.  It’s all been fun, but those were the funnest! ;D

4.) Who is your favorite character and why?

I have several favorite characters, some of them expected (Nathaniel and Liss, of course), but others that surprised me that I enjoyed writing them so much.  Fergus Cousland is one character that I have written that I just absolutely adore.  He often acts as the voice of the writer (as well as the reader from time to time), and so he gets to say the things we all want to scream at the main actors in the story. Another character that I’ve developed such a fondness for, even in his incredibly small role, Benedict “Ben” Kenric, one of Bram Kenric’s “unnamed” siblings that I gave a name and a personality, and who is just an absolute puppy dog of a human.  He’s a fellow squire of Nate’s in Starkhaven and a really close, loyal friend. A real Ride or Die kind of person. 

5.) Did anything happen that surprised you as you were writing?

Loads!  I think some of the more surprising “huh, Allison.  Didn’t expect that one,” things include: retconning Thomas Howe’s death, a thing that wasn’t a thing with Sebastian Vael, and the fact that I absolutely LOVE writing Rendon Howe (even as much as I want to kick him in the stomach every time he shows up in a chapter).   One surprise that is not related to the actual writing of the story itself has been the immense outpouring of encouragement and support that I’ve gotten since I started writing.  I’ve been very fortunate, and it’s made the journey so much fun!

I’ll tag @ravenqueen89, @chaotic-good-hawke, @darlingrutherford @bitchesofostwick , @laurelsofhighever , and anyone else who sees this and would like a reason to talk about their projects, both complete and WIPs. (No obligations of course!!)

[honeybee-babe]

Spacey (Sick!Luther and Caring!Five Twin Fluff!!!!)

@laimerrylin Hey babe, here’s “I’m kinda lonely” from the dialogue prompts. I guess I’m not physically capable of writing short fics.

Five wasn’t surprised when Luther  rejected Allison’s offer to go out  for drinks with the family on this fine Saturday night. As much as Luther had been opening up to  his siblings lately, it was clear to Five that his twin was just an introvert at heart. It wasn’t abnormal for him to spend whole days alone in his room. He claimed he was doing important research (“The moon isn’t going to come up with a new method of dating craters itself!”). Whether or not that was true, Five understood the need to be alone. Aside from Dolores, he also preferred to be alone a lot of the time. Maybe it was the apocalypse, but he needed to be alone to recharge sometimes, especially dealing with a family as crazy as theirs.

Five had actually wanted to go out with his siblings tonight, though, and not just because they were drinking. He too was getting more used to being around them. Unfortunately, there was no way he was getting into a bar for another six years.

So he settled on making margaritas for himself and Dolores instead. And when Luther rejected his offer to join them, too, he thought nothing of it. Walked right on by his door and into his room and didn’t bother him again for another two hours.

By then, it was 9pm, and Five was seriously craving some nachos. Blame drunk cravings, blame puberty 2.0, blame Dolores screaming at him to eat something. He hadn’t eaten dinner, and he knew for a fact that Luther hadn’t either; he hadn’t come out of his room in 8 hours, his “research” must be pretty time-consuming. And blame his bitterness at not being able to go out tonight, but he kinda wanted some company. Animate company, that could help cook and eat his nachos with him.

So Five poofed himself right in front of Luther’s door. But he stopped himself before he could knock when he heard a muffled, squeaky sound from inside. He thought nothing of it. Until it happened again. And again, and again, and again.

When he poofed inside the room, he wasn’t surprised to see Luther hunched over his desk, with one of Reginald’s old handkerchiefs held up to his face. He had what had to be hundreds of pages full of notes scattered in front of him. So he wasn’t bluffing about the research.

It was all starting to click for Five now. Come to think of it, even for an introvert, staying inside to do research instead of going out on a Saturday was a bit extreme. And eight hours alone in your room is a lot. Five knew by now that his newly illness-prone brother holed himself up in his room when he was sick. Shit, he should have realized.

“Gesundheit,” he finally spoke up after a few moments. He tried not to roll his eyes at the way Luther startled, nearly jumping out of his seat, and turned to look at him over his handkerchief.

“Five!” Luther shot him an annoyed look, which looked ridiculous beneath his thick-rimmed reading glasses, and hastily put the handkerchief in his lap as he turned back around to his research. “What are you doing in here? Go back to your room.” Congested and hoarse, unsurprisingly.

“You’re sick.” Five teleported over to his side. “Have you taken anything?”

Luther shrugged, picking up a piece of paper and focusing his eyes on it. “It’s just a cold.”

“What are your symptoms?”

Luther rolled his eyes, still avoiding Five’s. “It’s just a bit of sneezing, okay? I’m fine.”

“You sound -and look- like you got hit by a bus. How long have you been feeling shitty?”

“I’m fine!” Luther snapped. “Really, it’s just the -heh- sneezing.” He immediately brought the handkerchief back up to his face and pinched it over his nose, jolting forward with a powerful, stifled double. “See?” He chuckled.

Five was not similarly amused. “And how long has the sneezing been going on?” Luther didn’t answer, just rubbed the handkerchief along the underside of his nose. “How long, Luther?” Five repeated in a more commanding tone.

“Since this morning,” Luther grumbled.

“You’ve been sick all day and you didn’t think to tell anyone?”

“It’s just a cold!” Luther defended, punctuating the sentence with a string of coughs.

“We’ll see about that.”

Luther went to protest, but then and then instead he lifted the handkerchief back up to his face with a hitching breath.

In the time it took him to stifle three doubles into the cloth, Five poofed out of the room, and then back again, thermometer in hand.

“Open up.” Luther kept the handkerchief pressed to his face.

“Five, it’s just a little cold, I’m fine--”

“When is it ever just a little cold with you? Now open up.”

“I don’t want you to get sick-”

“Open. Your damn. Mouth.”

Luther sighed in defeat, reluctantly opening his mouth. Five wasted no time in inserting the thermometer. And when it beeped, he grabbed it out of Luther’s mouth before his brother could raise a gloved hand halfway up to his face to remove it himself.

When Five saw the reading on the screen, he immediately clenched his jaw tight.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He snapped, tone way harsher than he intended. “Look at this!” He held the device, which read 102.3 degrees, up to Luther’s face. Luther just turned his head away. “This is why we can’t trust you to take care of yourself, Luther!”

Five shook the thermometer as he spoke, but Luther still didn’t read it. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, lips quivering. “I’m sorry, okay?” Five bit down on his lip, instantly realizing his mistake. Luther always got more sensitive when he was sick.

“No, don’t be sorry.” Five set the thermometer down on the desk. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. But you really need to tell us when you’re not feeling well, you know how bad you can get. You don’t want another repeat of last time, do you?”

Luther just shrugged in response. Five reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, but Luther flinched away, swivelling his desk chair in the opposite direction. Five watched from behind as Luther’s big shoulders hunched forward, accompanied by the sound of his sniffling. Then he took his his glasses off and put his hands over his face.

“Shit.” Five’s face fell, losing any of its remaining edge. Despite his worry, he put on an air of calm gentleness. He knew that was what Luther needed right now. “Don’t cry, Spacey,” he soothed, finally putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder. He used the tone of voice and gentle touch he reserved for when his twin was in need. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Just worried.”

Luther shrugged again and continued to sniffle behind his hands. Five moved his hand down to gently rub at his back, which seemed to soothe him a bit. The sniffling died down after a few moments of this. Five couldn’t see, but he could tell it had been just a few stray tears, never reaching the point of full-on crying.

When Luther was finally done crying, Five wordlessly handed him some tissues from the desk. By now, he was unfazed by the crying. He knew that typically happened when Luther’s fever passed 102. It wasn’t the crying that concerned Five. It was the fever itself.

He waited until Luther had wiped his eyes, jolted forward into the tissues with six squeaky stifles, and blown his nose to oblivion before he spoke up again.

“You really only started feeling bad this morning?” he asked softly, brows furrowing when Luther just nodded in response.

Five sighed. “That’s really not good. It came on way too suddenly.” He poofed his brother to get a look at his face, which was flushed and tear-stained. “Jesus, Lu, why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Luther shrugged and rubbed at his nose with the tissues, which were shot. “Didn’t want to ruin everyone’s night,” he mumbled. “Looks like I ruined your night anyway.”

Five handed him some new tissues and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, you really ruined my night. Cause I was having so much fun with Delores.”

Luther actually chuckled a bit at that. And even though it was at his expense, and even though Luher winced and grabbed his throat afer, Five was happy to see him finally in a good mood.

“How ya really feeling, bud?” he asked, figuring the tension had dissipated. “I know you weren’t telling the truth, earlier.”

Luther sniffled and sighed in defeat. “Shitty.”

“I can see that.... I’ll be back in a few, okay?”

“Wait, Five, don’t--”

Five poofed away, anyway. Ane when he came back five minutes later with tea and medicine, Luther was sitting up in bed with a blanket on his shoulders and a clean handkerchief pressed to his face, muffling a series of powerful sneezes into the unoffending fabric. It wasn’t going to be clean for long. He was so caught up in the fit, he again didn’t even notice Five’s entrance.

When it was finally over, he dropped the handkerchief lamely onto his lap and just sat there sniffling congestedly for a few moments, blinking wearily at nothing. Fits like these always took a lot out of him, and the fever definitely wasn’t helping.

“Hey, Spacey.” Luther barely even reacted to Five startling him this time, just held up his hand in a lazy wave as his brother set everything down on his nightstand. He put the mug of tea in his brother’s gloved hands. “Here, take this.”

“Thanks, Five,” Luther rasped, and took a grateful sip.

He put up no argument when Five gave him all of the medicine, only breaking away from him occasionally to sneeze.

“Okay,” Five said once he’d pulled the blankets up to his brother’s chin. Luther immediately brought the blankets up to cover his face. “Is there anything else you need?” Luther mumbled something incoherent under the blankets. “What was that?”

Luther finally resurfaced, hair messy and eyes half-closed. “I’m kinda lonely,” he mumbled, then immediately put his head back under the blankets.

Five rolled his eyes. “Well no wonder, you’ve been alone all day.” Luther poked his head out from under the blankets again.

“But now I feel lonely.” As pathetic as Luther looked, Five knew it was a good sign that his brother was comfortable enough around him to say that. Months ago, he would have never admitted that.

“Me, too,” Five admitted himself after a moment. “Stupid legal drinking age.” Luther chuckled. Five looked around the room, eyes settling on the desk, which was still littered with pages of research. “Tell you what, why don’t I stay here until you fall asleep? Then you won’t be lonely.”

Luther looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “You’re gonna stay?”

Five grinned and ruffled Luther’s hair, which didn’t do much since it was so short. “Yeah, big guy. Besides, this room is disgusting. Someone needs to clean it.”

“Okay -- keep my research in order, please!”

Five rolled his eyes and set about organizing Luther’s desk. He wasn’t surprised when he heard Luther snoring before he was even halfway done.

When he finally finished and turned back around to look at him, Luther was conked out, curled into a little (big) ball and shivering underneath his blankets.

Five laid another blanket over his sleeping brother before he teleported over to the door one last time. He shut it slowly, taking care not to make any noise.

“G’night, Spacey.”

[half-bakedboy]

Meet cute prompt 10, Jimon

10: You matched with them in an online chat roulette room.

Read on AO3

Saturday nights in the Lewis/Fray household had consisted of Simon broadening Clary’s knowledge of the geek world while eating way too much pizza for as long as Simon could remember. They usually sat in front of the TV with Simon’s collection of Star Wars DVDs and Doctor Who reruns, debating on which to show her next. As this had been the routine for the past five weekends, Clary wanted a change, so she grabbed her laptop and sat cross legged next to a very confused Simon.

“I heard from a friend at school that there’s this cool website where you can like video chat with strangers. I vote we get drunk and talk to random men on the internet.” Clary punctuated her words with a large gulp of the wine on the table. Simon rolled his eyes, opening the website on her browser.

“You know, we’re going to be seeing a lot of penises on this, right?” Simon sighed as Clary giggled, the alcohol she had already consumed obviously affecting her.

“Well, it’s not like either of us have never seen a strangers penis before!” She challenged, earning a small blush on Simon’s cheeks as he pushed up his glasses. “C’mon Simon, let’s have a little fun!” Simon rolled his eyes, allowing access to the webcam and video on Clary’s computer. Immediately, Clary squealed with laughter and covered Simon’s eyes with her hands.

“I told you this would happen!” Simon laughed with her, hurriedly clicking on to the next stranger. This time, a group of girls filled their view. They waved at the camera causing more giggles from a drunk Clary. Simon waved back, earning drunken giggles from all parties. This was going to be a long night.

Eventually, Clary convinced Simon to get equally as inebriated as she was and he enjoying it greatly until Clary passed out on the couch, obviously drinking a little bit more than she could handle. Simon took off her shoes and placed a blanket around her before resting her feet in his lap. As he was reaching to turn off the computer, he noticed a gorgeous blonde man on the video. Simon tried really hard not to notice the lack of shirt. The man smirked at him, tilting his head slightly.

“Hi, sorry. I didn’t realize this was still on…” Simon stuttered out, a little distracted by the tone muscles of the stranger’s chest and abs. The man ran a hand through his hair and Simon couldn’t help but note how it seemed to fall in exactly the right spot. He gulped audibly and pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose before pulling the laptop on his lap.

“You treat your girlfriend right. I saw you, just now.” Simon snorted, looking at Clary snoring away on the couch before returning his gaze back to the stranger.

“She’s my best friend. I’m gay!” Simon practically shouted. He closed his eyes tightly, running a hand over his face. “Well, pansexual, really. Like, I’m definitely into guys. And girls! But not attracted to her in that way. I mean, I used to be, but we’re best friends now so…” He realized the stranger was laughing at him and smiled softly. “That was a lot of information that I just gave a handsome stranger online.” He chuckled back, his eyes floating over the other man’s body once more. Jace seemed to notice and licked his lips slowly, sitting up in the bed he was in. The movement had Simon’s eyes widening as the blanket fell further down his hips.

“You think I’m handsome?” The stranger cocked an eyebrow, one hand reaching to cross his body and rest on his shoulder.

“Have you seen yourself? You’re like an adonis.” Simon reminded himself he had to work on his filter for the next time he conversed with a hot guy. He’d let it slide this time because he seemed to be charming the man and he could still feel the alcohol running through his veins.

“Adonis, huh? I’ll take that compliment,” the stranger said, pausing for a second as if he was thinking. “I’m Jace. That way you can stop referring to me as a stranger.” Simon nodded, his lips quirking at the name.

“Jace, I’m Simon.” He leaned back against the couch, pulling his legs up so they were crossed with the laptop resting on his ankles. There were a few moments of silence as Jace just took in the man in front of him.

“So, are you wearing a Star Wars shirt because you are a nerd or a wannabe?” Simon gasped, an offended look crossing his face.

“I’m a geek, thank you very much.” Jace nodded slowly, biting down on his bottom lip. He held his hands up in surrender causing laughter to leave Simon’s lips.

“Okay, hands where I can see them!” Jace said loudly, Simon mimicking the gesture Jace had previously made. He raised his eyebrows questioningly as Jace narrowed his eyes. “What is the name of Chewbacca’s home planet?” Simon’s eyes widened. He was definitely not expecting a Star Wars quiz to come from this conversation.

“Kashyyyk. With three y’s.” Jace nodded, accepting that answer. Simon noticed that his hands were nowhere near his computer either. “Did you know that? How?” Jace laughed, turning his computer slightly to show Simon the wall of his bedroom. Simon gasped slightly when he saw a movie poster for A New Hope plastered on his wall. Jace quickly turned his computer back to him, licking his lips once more.

“You tell anyone about that, I will deny it. Only my siblings know that I’ve seen Star Wars. I have a reputation to keep, you know?” Simon nodded, feeling a lot more attraction towards Jace than he originally did. At the mention of siblings, a light bulb flashed over his head.

“Jace.” The other man tilted his head as Simon burst into laughter. “I’m sorry but are you Isabelle Lightwood’s brother?” Jace’s eyes widened and Simon would have laughed harder if the other man didn’t look so scared. Simon turned the laptop to face the sleeping redhead next to him. Jace leaned closer to his laptop, chuckling softly at the sleeping form.

“Is that… Clary?” Simon nodded as he turned the camera back toward himself. “You’re the Simon. The one who introduced Isabelle and Clary.” He nodded proudly, letting his eyes linger on the smile on Jace’s lips.

“You should smile more often.” Simon stated, smiling back at Jace. “Clary said the first time she met you, you just smirked a lot and she assumed you were a giant douchebag.” Jace let out a laugh and but his lip again, seemingly embarrassed by how much Simon was making him smile. “Sorry, I’ve been working on the fact I have no filter…” He blushed, the smile not leaving his lips.

“It’s cute, don’t worry,” Jace replied, the blush on his cheeks darkening at the words. He glanced at the time and sighed, looking back up at Jace.

“I should probably…” Simon made a noncommittal gesture behind him. “Clary and I are…” He trailed off as Jace laughed softly.

“You have to be up early for brunch with Isabelle and her brothers.” Simon nodded, slowly realizing who he was intended to have brunch with. They both laughed, neither of them making a move to shut their computers. “I will see you tomorrow, Simon.” The smile stayed on Simon’s face as he closed to laptop. He couldn’t wait for brunch tomorrow.

(Send me Meet Cute Prompts)

[the-consulting-strange-vidder]

"No. No. Nope. Hell no."

Mycroft Holmes glared at the man in front of him.

“You are overreacting Greg,’‘ he told at the silver-haired photographer that was pacing in front of him inside his office.

‘‘Am I what? I’m sorry, have you met your brother?’‘ answered Greg, looking Mycroft with wide eyes.

Mycroft released a deep sigh.

‘‘Yes Greg, I have. I practically raised him myself. And you know that he is magnificent in his craft.’‘

‘‘Sure he is. He’s also a prick. And you are asking me to put him in a photoshoot with Molly Hooper. The personification of sunshine.’‘

‘‘Again, you are overreacting. While I believe you that this miss Molly Hooper is wonderful, I would really appreciate it if you stopped acting like Sherlock is the incarnation of the devil. We both know that this title belongs to the one and only Jim Moriarty.’’

Hearing that name was enough for Greg’s eyes and body to start twitching.

‘‘I hate that guy...’‘ he whispered, his eyes staring at the emptiness.

‘‘Don’t we all?’‘ Mycroft agreed. ‘‘So what do you say? Will we have Sherlock and Molly Hooper work together in this photoshoot?’‘

Greg shook his head to get rid off the images of Jim Moriarty and sighed. ‘’Alright, fine. I’ll do what you ask. But please inform your brother that if he does or say anything that will make Molly Hooper even slightly sad I will kick his gorgeously shaped arse and never work with him again,’’ he said and left Mycroft’s office without another word.

Mycroft smirked, looking to the closed door.

‘‘Won’t be a problem.’‘

John was trying his best to resist the urge to laugh at his best friend face. He had never seen him like that before and the image he presented was both extremely amusing and horrifying.

Everyone believed that Sherlock Holmes was an arrogant arse with no filter, and while though that was true, the people closest to him knew that he was more than that. He was also very caring especially with his family and the people he considers family like John and his wife Mary and their daughter Rosie, his landlady Mrs. Hudson that he thought of her as a second mother, even Greg Lestrade the photographer that had discovered him and gave him the chance to become the most successful male model the world had ever seen, with fashion designers literally begging him to work for them, ready and willing to satisfy his every whim.

He had also a truly wicked sense of humor when he wanted to, ready to poke fun to everyone and everything. His brother Mycroft was, of course, his favorite ‘’victim’’ for pranks and jokes. The older and long-suffering sibling was taking it all with the patience of a saint. Most of the time anyway. The times that the brothers got into arguments and fights weren’t few. But it was their own, bizarre way of showing their love for each other so everyone just let them be.

Currently, he was nervous. He was pacing back and forth, releasing sigh after a sigh, his hands fidgeting, his mind obviously racing with carefully crafted plans that John was sure would go to hell as soon as he got face to face with the reason of his nervousness, Molly Hooper.

Because Sherlock Holmes, the machine as some people that didn't really know him used to call him, was in love. John couldn’t honestly say why his friend was in love with that particular woman. From the photoshoots that she had made and John had seen, she was petite, almost mouse-looking. He supposed she was kinda attractive, but definitely not the type of woman he could picture Sherlock falling for. Not that Sherlock had ever shown any indication about what type of woman he was into. Or that he had any romantic interest at all, of any kind, either male or female or both or none.

But here they were, on the backstage of a very important photoshoot that Sherlock had fought tooth and nail to be into, and not because it would look good in his resume, but only to meet Molly Hooper. John and Sherlock were friends for many years now, but the man was still a real mystery to the former army doctor.

Eventually, John had enough of his friend’s pacing back and down.

‘‘Sherlock, sit the hell down, you’ll open a hole in the floor if you continue like that,’‘ he complained.

‘‘Don’t be ridiculous John,’‘ said Sherlock, not even sparing him a glance. ‘‘That’s impossible in so many ways.’‘

‘‘Then sit down, you are making me dizzy,’‘ he answered back.

‘‘I couldn’t care less,’‘ quipped Sherlock, but he did sit down on a chair across from John, only to get up on his feet again two seconds later.

John groaned.

"For God's sake, Sherlock calm down. She's just a woman after all," he said making Sherlock glare angrily at him.

"Just a woman? Molly Hooper, just a woman?"

"Yes. She's not even that pretty for you to react this way," he said aiming for a reaction. And a reaction he got.

‘‘Not that pretty? Not that pretty? Molly Hooper, not that pretty? Ok, John, first of all, I would suggest you visit an eye doctor. Secondly, Molly Hooper is not simply pretty. She’s the most stunning, beautiful woman I have ever seen and not just because of her good looks. She’s also kind, and good-hearted, and funny, and sweet, and stubborn, and strong, and there’s not a single man on this planet worthy of her, least of all me, but I know that if I don’t at least try to be with her, I’ll regret it for the rest of my days. And third?’‘ Sherlock paused to take a deep breath. ‘‘I have no idea how you got so lucky to find and marry a woman like Mary because Lord knows you do not deserve her.’‘

John looked at his friend feeling offended.

‘‘The last one was uncalled for,’‘ he complained.

‘‘Well, it’s true,’‘ insisted Sherlock.

‘‘Of course, it’s true you git. That doesn’t mean that you should rub it in my face.’‘

‘‘Well, then maybe, you should stop behaving like you’re God’s greatest creation and a gift to humankind, because you’re really not.’‘

‘‘Why did we suddenly turned this conversation on me? We were talking about your crush.’‘

‘‘Molly Hooper is not my crush,’‘ said Sherlock. ‘‘I’m gonna marry her one day. Take a good look at Sherlock Holmes my friend. In a couple of years, he will be Sherlock Hooper - Holmes.’‘

Before John could have any kind of reaction the door of the dressing room opened and Mary entered.

‘‘The set is ready Sherlock, we are good to go.’‘

Sherlock jumped on his feet and started straightening his already completely perfect clothes and walked towards Mary.

‘‘He does not deserve you,’‘ he told her while pointing at John and then kissed her on the cheek.

‘‘Agh... Don’t I know it?’‘ she said. ‘‘But what can I do? I need him for reproduction.’‘

‘‘Hey!’‘ shouted John, making the two people he loved most in the world, to start laughing at him.

She was impressed. When she had told to her friends that she would collaborate in a photoshoot with Sherlock Holmes, every single one of them warned her off because ‘’he’s rude and annoying’’ an ‘’arrogant prick’’ that he ‘’behaves like a mean and spoiled brat’’. But of course, she wouldn’t miss the chance to work with him, and so far he was nothing but kind to her.

Not that she didn’t believe any of her friend's accusations. If nothing else Greg Lestrade’s reaction to Sherlock simple calling him by his name was very telling. She just didn’t believe that that was all he was. She had met him briefly, many weeks before she landed this job, at an event. They managed to talk for maybe ten minutes and she quickly realized that while the rumors about him had some truth in it, he was much more than that.

He never intended to be rude or mean to others, at least most of the time. He just was very bad at filtering the words in his brain before letting them come out of his mouth, but he never meant to hurt anyone. She hadn’t hesitated to tell him that, just seconds before her agent whisked her away, to potential clients.

So there they were now, posing together, moving flawlessly around each other like this wasn’t the first time they were working together like they were doing this since the beginning of time. 

She was surprised when the photoshoot got wrapped up. She didn’t even notice how much time they spend there, working, exchanging glances and words between shots and changing clothes. 

She was walking to her car, wondering whether she would work with Sherlock again, when she saw him waiting for her near her parking spot.

‘‘Sherlock,’‘ she said without even trying to hide the smile in her face. ‘‘What can I do for you?’‘

‘‘Um, actually...’‘ he paused to take a deep breath and try to calm down. ‘‘Actually Molly, I was wondering if you would like to have coffee. With me, I mean. A date, basically.’‘

‘‘You want a date with me? Why?’’

‘‘Why does everyone keeps asking this? Because I like you. In fact, I more than like you. From the moment we met, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. It’s not every day that you meet someone who sees who you really are deep inside without even trying and within minutes from your introduction. You are amazing. You’re beautiful and funny and sweet and just... perfect.’‘

‘‘Nobody’s perfect Sherlock,’‘ she said with a sweet smile.

‘‘Maybe not. But even so, I would really like to take you out on a date. If you’re not interested in that, that’s fine too. We could be friends instead. If you want that too.’‘

‘‘Okay.’‘

‘‘Okay, what?’‘

‘‘Take me out on a date.’‘

Sherlock’s smile alone was enough to light up the entire city of London. And as it turned out, two years later he proved himself to be right. He really did became Mr. Sherlock Hooper-Holmes.

Edit:

Tagging: @sherlollyandspoilers because that is her prompt. Looking forward to the next prompt.

[slightly-nerdy-rambles]

Robstarweek Day 6: Children, Plural (Prompt: Children)

I was very excited to see the prompt “Children” because 1) it encourages lots of cute parenthood/next-gen shenanigans and 2) it gave me an opportunity to use an idea I already had floating around. As you might have guessed by the title, I had a bit of fun taking advantage of the specific word choice for this prompt.

Children, Plural

In his defense, Nightwing had not freaked out when he first learned his wife was pregnant.

Why should he? They had planned this, carefully. The process of starting a family was complicated enough without the parents being both different species and full-time superheroes, but they had researched and discussed and gotten advice and outlined exactly how active on the team Starfire could be before the baby came and how they would handle alerts after.

…He really should have known that all those plans would go out the window once it actually happened, but he had been too busy assuring himself that he was ready for this. And then when Starfire had rushed to him, practically glowing, with the news, he’d been so happy.

(He still was happy, too. He had to stop and remind himself that. It was just… a little overwhelming right now.)

But then had come one of those odd little moments that crops up from time to time when you share your home with four superpowered beings. Apparently, the new little life force had just gotten strong enough for Raven’s passive senses to pick up, because she’d felt the need to round up both parents-to-be and tell them about it.

Mostly because there were two of them.

Nightwing groaned again and laid his head down on his desk, pulling lightly at his hair. He’d shut himself into his office on the pretense of working on a case and blocked off his emotions from Raven’s half of their mental bond. She wouldn’t be suspicious of that. Probably.

Look, he just needed a little time to process everything, okay?

…Great, how he was arguing with himself. He let out a slow breath and tried to focus.

Twins. Twins. This was a thing that was happening now. He was going to have two babies at the same time. He and Star hadn’t really planned to have more than one child at all, unless perhaps they decided to retire from hero work to focus on their family. That wasn’t something either of them intended to do right now, but somehow they were still going to have to raise two infants at once.

It really drove home the fact that Tarmaraneans (and most Tamaranean hybrids) could fly at just a few months old. Could Nightwing fly? No. The “wing” in his name was a lie. Why had he made that part of his adult hero identity anyway?

…Right. In any case, until now he had expected to take care of his flying baby with a careful eye, some help from his teammates, and maybe the occasional bit of clever acrobatics. He could accept that. He could deal with it. But he wasn’t so sure he could keep up with two of them at once. What if they went zipping off in different directions? What if it was his turn to watch the kids while the others were on a mission, and he lost track of one of them?

What if they got hurt because of him?

And that wasn’t even considering what could happen once they got older and their other powers manifested. Surrounded by superpowered, often mischief-loving honorary aunts and uncles, he had no doubt that they would pick up roughhousing. And if sibling rivalry cropped up, well… Nightwing had seen firsthand what kind of destruction a pair of warring Tamaranean siblings could wreak.

What was he supposed to do about any of that? He could take on supervillains and monsters, but that required using weapons and actively fighting them. He could keep a handle on his team, but only because they were all mature enough to listen to him (or at least not do anything too stupid when they refused to listen). How was he going to handle his own children when they had tantrums or fights or stubborn phases, when they would be stronger and faster than him?

Nightwing’s face was practically pressed into the surface of his desk now, his fingers tangled in an unruly mess of hair. He couldn’t, that was the answer. Starfire would know what to do, and be perfectly capable of doing it, and the others with their superstrength and magic and shape-changing abilities could probably help as well, but him?

He was going to be a terrible father.

So absorbed was Nightwing in his emotional breakdown that he didn’t even hear the light knock on the door behind him. After a few seconds, it opened to Changeling’s face poking its way in.

The other Titan opened his mouth to say something, but then he got a good look at his hopelessly panicked leader. His mouth snapped shut, he backed out and closed the door silently, and then he turned tail and hurried back to the common room.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Starfire, meanwhile, was in an exceedingly good mood today.

She flitted around the kitchen, humming a wordless tune to herself as she prepared a sort of “Tamaranean fusion” dish that she and Cyborg had perfected years ago. Her feet barely touched the ground – probably a result of the emotional highs and other extremes that naturally accompanied Tamaranean pregnancies, but she was hardly complaining. It suited her attitude now, and if it flipped to rage later, she could take that out in training or perhaps on the next villain who dared to threaten her home and family.

Twins. Twins. She had always wanted two or three children and had been admittedly disappointed when she and Nightwing discussed the matter and decided to minimize the possible complications by focusing on just one. But now…

Okay, so this development had thrown them for a bit of a loop. It would probably present some new challenges to raising a family. But wasn’t that how family worked? It was never meant to be easy. And regardless of the challenges, she had people she loved by her side, and she knew she always would.

In the end, she believed that Fate had smiled upon her and her husband, that it found a way to still bless them with two beautiful children.

The sudden sound of the common room door opening drew Starfire’s attention out of her thoughts, and she looked up from her mixing bowl to see Changeling entering the room. He had an uneasy frown on his face, and he kept glancing back down the hall until his eyes suddenly met hers.

“Uh, Star?” he called to her, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I think your husband’s broken.”

Starfire dropped what she was doing immediately and touched down, running to him. “What do you mean?”

Changeling shrugged. “Don’t know why, but when I went to ask him a question, he was headdesking so hard he looked like he was trying to fuse with it. He didn’t hear me come in either, which is super not Nightwing.”

Well that didn’t sound promising. Brows knitting in concern, she excused herself and darted through the doorway and up the stairs.

Sure enough, Nightwing was in his office, looking exactly as Changeling had described. He didn’t even look up when she entered, but he jolted upright and turned to face her when she put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“What is wrong, love?” she asked him gently.

Nightwing blinked rapidly – Starfire wasn’t sure whether he even realized he’d taken off his mask – and then turned back around and started scrounging at the papers scattered on his desk.

“I just… can’t find a break in the… uh…” he glanced at one of the papers, “Killer Moth case.”

Starfire’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Richard.”

Nightwing winced at her warning tone, and then let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping. “I know, I shouldn’t lie to you, I’m sorry. It’s just…” His eyes flicked to her stomach for a moment, and then back up to meet her gaze.

“…I just can’t help but worry, and I didn’t want you worrying too.”

Starfire took a moment to search his face, trying to parse what exactly had him so rattled. With a low sigh of her own, she knelt down by his chair and took one of his hands in hers.

“Nightwing, we have talked about this,” she told him, her voice gentle. “The Tower’s defenses are powerful and have not been breached in years. I know how to defend myself and when to hold back from a risky situation, and I wouldn’t dream of putting our children in danger. They are protected, and they will be as long as we are there for them.”

But even as she spoke, her husband started shaking his head. “No, it’s not that.” His forehead wrinkled in thought for a moment before he amended, “at least, not entirely. It’s more that… Twins are hard, Kor. Even when they don’t have powers… or when both parents have the same powers as them. I just… don’t know how I’ll be able to keep up with them, if they end up with both flight and Tamaranean high-strength.”

Starfire listened patiently, her eyes never leaving his face. She waited a few moments longer, to see if he had any other worries. Nightwing just grimaced and dropped his gaze, as if ashamed to have his fears laid out in the open.

In spite of herself, Starfire felt a little smile tug at the corner of her lip. “Is that all?”

Nightwing looked up at her in surprise, but she just shook her head. “Of course it will be difficult. Families always are, even perfectly ordinary ones. In all honesty, I’m a little afraid too.”

She squeezed his hand, letting the smile overtake her features. “But that is okay, because we are doing it together. And we are fortunate enough to have our closest friends to help us when we need it. You do not need to always ‘keep up’ with the children to be a good father, because you will not be doing it alone. I will help you with that if it ever becomes an issue, just as you will do the same for any of my shortcomings.”

Nightwing took a moment to absorb all that. He blinked once, took a deep breath, and then managed to crack a tiny smile of his own.

“Not alone, huh? I can’t believe after all these years you still have to remind me that.”

Starfire giggled and rose slightly, leaning forward to give him a light peck on the lips. “Only rarely. But I will always be ready to remind you when you need it.”

She felt his arm curl around her back, and she let him pull her closer to return the kiss with a lingering one of his own.

“And I’ll always be ready to listen,” he promised, as he lifted his other hand to rub lightly over her abdomen.

[enemyofrome]

dear yuletide author 2019

Hello, Yuletide Author!

Thank you so much for writing for me! I have rambled at great length about my favourite fandoms and characters, but (besides the DNWs) everything in this letter is intended only as suggestions -- please don’t feel limited to the ideas I’ve put down here. I hope you have fun with this, and I’m already super excited to read whatever you come up with! :D

Things I like: humour, enemies-to-lovers, competence, sparring, healing from past trauma, characters who appear imperturbable or flippant but are riddled with painful vulnerabilities, and the reluctant showing of that vulnerability. I’ll read anything from plotty intrigue to plotless fluff. Also 1000000% here for AUs (modern, ancient, coffee shop, soulmate, whatever) and crossovers between any or all of my requested fandoms. Historical accuracy appreciated; historical liberties welcome.

Tropes I’d rather not read: genderswaps, A/B/O, conflicts based on misunderstandings, het ships.

Things I don’t want to read: incest, rape, abuse, “period-typical” sexism/homophobia, graphic violence or torture, erasure of canonical disabilities. Toxic family dynamics are a particular trigger and I’d rather a fic not focus on them too much, even if it’s canon. I read all ratings, but I tend to skim sex scenes unless they do something for plot and characterisation.

2017 letter here.

Requests:

1. Carthaginian Historical RPF (Hasdrubal, Mago, Hannibal)

I love the younger Barca brothers with my entire goblin soul, and there is so little satisfactory fiction that treats them as characters in their own right, rather than  sidekicks or lesser copies of Hannibal. So I would absolutely liquefy over a fic that gave them the attention they deserve, and explored their relationships with each other and the rest of their family.

(Hannibal optional. Scipibal more than welcome but also optional.)

Their lives are obviously fraught with tragic endings, but I would prefer not to read deathfic, or family dynamics that are unremittingly hateful, abusive or toxic. On the other hand I never say no to lighthearted fluff, you feel?

Ideas:

Battle of the Upper Baetis, aka Hasdrubal And Mago Are Capable of Strategic Badassery Too!

Blood oath! Did the younger brothers swear it too? There's a story that their father died to save Hannibal and Hasdrubal while they were getting chased by angry Spaniards -- how'd that go down? What was their relationship with Hamilcar like? What about their mother and mysterious unnamed sister(s)?

Sibling bonding! Pranks! Cracky extended family gatherings! The Scipibal wedding! (Trying not to kill the Roman-in-laws at the reception!)

Modern AU! Carthage Wins AU! Etc. (Just no The Barcids As Romans AUs, please.)

If you're looking for more inspiration, or just eye candy, here's a docudrama starring Alexander Siddig as Hannibal. There's also Extra History for a quick and humorous if not wholly accurate crash course on the First and Second Punic Wars, featuring some adorable stick figures.

2. Dialogues - Plato (Alkibiades)

Alkibiades ranks very near the top of my Favourite Historical Assholes list, and as a character he combines all the tropes I love to read about most in fiction: the brilliant, silvertongued charmer with all that dash, flamboyance, too few scruples, and maybe some good intentions buried deep, deep down inside. I never get sick of his complexities and contradictions, and I would love to read a fic that teases those out.

Ideas:

Youthful exploits! Scandals! (I’m endlessly amused by the fact that there is an entire genre of Renaissance paintings of Sokrates dragging Alkibiades out of various brothels.)

My hell ship: Alkibiades/the entire city of Athens. There’s a line in Aristophanes’ Frogs ("They pine for him, they hate him, dismiss him, and want him back") that is the most delicious sort of pain ever, if you’re in the mood to write something angsty.

On that note, there’s no one person that I ship Alkibiades with, but I’m happy for you to pair him romantically with just about anyone else in the Symposium.

We see a lot of Alkibiades from an outsider’s POV -- in the Symposium and other dialogues, in Plutarch and Thucydides and Aristophanes, in Mary Renault’s The Last of the Wine -- but I don’t think I’ve ever read anything set in Alkibiades’ own headspace. What does he want, really? How does he feel about Sokrates and the rest of their squad? In exile, does he pine for Athens as much as it pines for him?

3. The Untamed (Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji)

Listen I’m only halfway through the show at the time of signups BUT it’s already murdering me with feels and I will definitely be done with it by Yuletide reveals, so don’t worry about spoilers. Just know that I am entirely here for nauseating Wangxian fluff, preferably angstless, and will screech over it relentlessly.

I obviously haven’t read a ton of fic about these characters or developed specific prompts/headcanons about them, but! here are some Ideas:

Casefic! Fighting creepies together! I love how they work together in the show and how in tune they are with each other’s thoughts (I think what I told my gf was, “they are dumbasses in the same way”). Competence kink! Murderous music kink! One of them gets injured and hurt/comfort ensues!

Schoolfic! College AU! Maybe they have to work on a group project or research paper together and LWJ is resigned to having to do all the work himself, and suffers an emotion when WWX actually gets shit done.

Awkward meet-the-in-laws situations! (If you take this route, I’d prefer an AU where Shijie is somehow alive and happy and Jiang Cheng relaxes his fucken eyebrows for a change.)

WWX’s “LAN ZHAN LAN ZHAN :DDDDDDD” mating call.

BUNNIES. Little Apple the donkey. BUNNIES.

dnws: WWX topping in any way, shape or form

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @satansmom-hasgotitgoingon!

Alec sucked in a deep breath of cold night air, eyes turned up toward the dark night sky. It was a clear night, and he could just barely see the faint glimmer of stars, their light blocked by the ever constant skyscraper lights. All around him, he could hear the sharp scrape of skates cutting through ice and the laughing of skaters as they passed by. They weren’t far from the bustle and hum of New York City, but despite the gaggles of tourists and the distant sounds of honking cars, Alec felt more relaxed than he had in weeks - and yet, still as lonely as ever.

That feeling was shattered when a body came crashing into him, outstretched hands shoving him forward. He stumbled a little, catching himself before he could fall, and whirled around to see his sister’s grinning face. Next to her, Max swayed awkwardly on his skates, chortling at the prank. Izzy laughed at Alec’s glare, and held out a gloved hand to steady him.

“What are you doing, spacing out over here?” she demanded, gracefully circling around him.Her dark hair spilled over the shoulders of her white coat, and around her neck hung pair of earmuffs. Both her cheeks and Max’s had gone pink with the cold air, and the two of them standing together looked like something straight out of a Christmas catalog. It was a heartwarming sight, the kind that reminded Alec why he still dragged himself to Central Park each year to brave the freezing weather and packs of clumsy tourists tripping around the Wollman Rink.

“Trying to escape the tourists,” Alec muttered, flexing his fingers, cold despite his gloves. He frowned, drawing a crease between his eyebrows. “Where’s Jace?”

Izzy waved a vague hand somewhere toward the rental and concession stands. “He’s off flirting with the skate rental girl again,” she said with a knowing smile. Alec rolled his eyes; skating had been a tradition of theirs for years, and yet the last few times Jace had spent most of his time hanging around the rental stand instead of on the ice. Maybe it was for the best, though. He had never been especially graceful on the ice, and had come close to taking out a group of Polish tourists last time he’d been out.

“Maybe she’s going to give him lessons,” suggested Max.

“Maybe she is,” replied Izzy innocently. The suggestive eyebrow lift she gave Alec was anything but innocent.

Alec found himself rolling his eyes again, earning another bout of laughter from his sister. Max giggled along. After a moment, Alec found himself cracking a grin. The holidays had always been a tense time of year for their family, even more so after Alec reached adulthood and began drifting down paths his parents didn’t exactly agree with, but the time with his siblings made up for it.

“Anyway, just because Jace is off talking Redhead up doesn’t mean you should be over here alone,” said Izzy, gesturing to the isolated patch of rink Alec had drifted to. She poked him in the rib. “C’mon, show us some tricks.”

“Ha-ha,” said Alec, pushing backwards on his skates. “Do you want to see the one where I fall on my ass, or the one where I crash into the side of the rink?”

“Hmm,” hummed Izzy, easily gliding along with him. Next to her, Max pushed along awkwardly, grabbing onto her hand for support as he went. “How about the one where a dashing young man sweeps you off your feet?”

Alec frowned. “What--”

“Look out!”

For the second time that afternoon, Alec felt a body collide with his own, nearly knocking him off his feet. Alec staggered under the weight of a full grown man, hands instantly reaching to his assailant’s waist to steady the both of them. He let out a relieved sigh when neither of them went toppling down, breath white in the frigid air, and then looked up to meet an inquisitive pair of brown eye, set into arguably one of the most attractive faces Alec had ever seen. Alec nearly dropped the man.

It earned him a lopsided grin. The man was tall, nearly the same height as Alec. His dark hair streaked through with a jolt of dark green that matched a scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. Even bundled up in a dark, puffy coat, he looked effortlessly stylish. Something about him seemed strangely familiar to Alec, and yet he was certain they had never met -- he couldn’t have forgotten a face like that.

“I’m terribly sorry about that,” the man said, righting himself -- or trying to, at least; he had scarcely moved to an independently upright position before one foot went flying out from underneath him, nearly dragging Alec down again. He grimaced apologetically, clutching onto Alec’s arm as ist steadied him. “I’ve been told I’m not the best skater in the world, but I didn’t intend on taking anyone down with me.”

“Oh, I, um -- it’s fine,” said Alec, in a daze. Behind him, he could hear Izzy giggling at the collision. “Uh -- first time?”

The man hummed, eyes sparkling. “Not quite, but it seems there are still things I’ve yet to master.”

Alec cracked a lopsided grin at that. “Yeah, it’s uh, kind of tricky at first,” he said.

“So I’ve noticed.”

The two spent a moment awkwardly smiling at one another for a moment before Alec became suddenly, violently aware that he still had his hand wrapped around the other man’s waist. He yanked his hand away, apologizing, but jerked forward again to steady the man by the shoulder when he began to sway, earning a huff of laughter.

“I truly am sorry,” the man said, “I came with some friends who are quite talented, but it seems they’ve abandoned me.” He carefully reached a hand forward, as if worried to throw of his balance. “I’m Magnus.”

“Alex. Um, Alexander,” said Alec in a hurry. He hoped the flush of red to his cheeks could be mistaken for cold. “Alec, call me Alec.”

“Well, Alec,” said Magnus, still smiling, “thank you for saving me from a terrible fall.”

Alec chuckled. “It happens to everyone. Part of the trick is just learning to fall the right way.”

“Ahh, it seems I’ve found an expert, then.”

“Me? No,” said Alec, shaking his head. “I mean, I’m alright --”

“He’s being modest,” Izzy cut in, gracefully inserting herself into the conversation. Her eyes glanced Magnus up and down, calculating, and she smiled. She patted Alec on the arm. “My brother’s an excellent skater! He plays hockey.”

“Hockey? That’s quite impressive.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Alec protested, shooting a glare at Izzy.

Izzy scoffed. “It isn’t nothing! One day, this guy’s going to be hoisting the Stanley Cup,” she said proudly. She waved a hand around the busy rink. “He could be skating circles around this whole place.”

“I would love to see that,” Magnus commented.

“It’s not a big deal,” Alec said again, fiddling with the zipper of his coat.

Magnus hummed, glancing around the rink. “Well, if you have no intention of doing so, I don’t suppose you’d mind showing me around the rink a little bit?”

Alec’s eyebrows shot up. “I--”

As if on clue, Magnus’ skates slid on the ice again. Alec grabbed him by the arm to steady him, prompting a laugh.

“I’m hopeless, I guess. Maybe just how to stay on my feet?”

“Yeah,” Alec found himself saying, hand still clasped around Magnus’ forearm. “Yeah, sure. I’d love to.”

Magnus beamed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Wonderful. That is, if your siblings here don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” said Izzy, cheerfully bumping at Alec with her shoulder. “In fact, Max and I were just going to go buy some roasted chestnuts.

Max wrinkled his nose at the suggestion. “But I don’t--”

“Come on, Max,” said Izzy. “I’ll race you to the other end of the rink?”

Just like that, Max was off. His skating was more of a run than a glide, and he nearly took a teenage girl out in his haste. Izzy laughed at the commotion and then took off after him, gliding effortlessly toward their younger brother, hanging back just a bit to give him a lead. Alec watched them go in a daze.

“They seem fun,” Magnus remarked idly.

“Yeah,” said Alec, a crooked smile on his face. “Too much, if you ask me.”

Magnus tutted. “This time of year? No such thing.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Alec, turning back to him with a grin.

The benefit of skating on a weeknight was that the rink wasn’t nearly as packed as it was on the weekends, giving them enough space to practice. A thin layer of snow coated the grass and trees of Central Park, nearly glowing in the light of the rinks. Alec was used to the chill, and it was made all the more pleasant by the weight of Magnus’ hand against his shoulder as they tried to run through the basics.

Magnus seemed capable of walking on the ice, at least -- permitted he take baby steps, he seemed to have no problem crossing the ice. It was when he tried to do anything more advanced than walking -- such as gliding or even stopping -- that he had problems, nearly smacking into the fence and other skaters. Alec had never seen someone fail so spectacularly, yet still maintain such a graceful demeanor. Most of their practice consisted of Alec trying to keep Magnus upright as much as possible. They finally settled in a comfortable position, Magnus skating forward under Alec’s watchful eye, while Alec skated backward, arms outreached and ready for a fall.

“Like this?” asked Magnus, pushing forward on a wobbly glide.

“Yeah, you’re getting it,” said Alec.

“So, which team do you play for?”

“Cornell,” said Alec. “I’m still finishing up my degree there.”

“Good looking, talented, and smart,” said Magnus, a teasing tone to his voice. “What are you studying?”

“Law,” said Alec. “What about you?”

“I graduated a few years ago. I’m mostly traveling these days.”

“Are you from around here?” Alec asked. Magnus wobbled a little bit, and Alec readied himself to dart forward. Magnus managed to gain his balance, and smiled triumphantly.

“Originally from Brooklyn, but it seems I rarely get back here these days. For a while there hasn’t been a lot keeping me here,” Magnus said, voice trailing off. He looked at Alec intensely for a moment, lost in thought. He glided forward with ease.

“That’s great!” exclaimed Alec.

Magnus hummed in question, and then looked down. “Oh,” he said, stumbling to a halt. His eyes darted up and he smiled at Alec. “You’re a wonderful teacher, Alexander.”

The two continued chatting. When Magnus seemed capable of doing more than just stomping around the ice awkwardly, the two began to circle around the rink, Alec carefully teaching Alec how to make the turns. At one point, they passed a dark skinned woman whirling around the ice with a white man dressed all in green. The woman waved at Magnus as they went by, and the man scowled. Magnus gave a cheeky grin in return.

“Your friends?”

“Yes.”

“They’re pretty talented.”

Magnus smirked, watching as the two of them danced across the ice, blades scraping loudly. “They like to think so.”

The two of them continued making their way around the ink. The ice number of skaters on the ice had begun to dwindle, leaving the two of them with more room to practice. Alec ambitiously tried teaching Magnus how to skate backwards, only to end up with the other man in his arms again. His cheeks had been red the whole evening from more than just the cold, and he laughed nervously as he helped right Magnus again.

“I have a proposal,” said a laughing Magnus, waving his arms out for balance.

“I -- what?”

Magnus smiled at that. “Not even I move that fast, Alexander. I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me sometime? I know an Ethiopian place in Brooklyn that is to die for.”

Alec’s eyebrows shot up, and he sucked in a breath of cold air. He was aware of Magnus’ intent eyes on him, but his mind had already begun racing. He could hear his coach barking in his ear, the sound of his mother’s clipped, disapproving lecture. Despite the shared laughter of the evening, or the warmth of Magnus through the thick layers that separated the two, he wasn’t certain how to proceed. He had the lifestyle of an athlete, one that was daunting and intensive and constantly changing. How could he possibly expect Magnus to understand that.

Sensing the hesitation in Alec’s demeanor, Magnus smiled that cryptic smile of his, and brought one gloved finger up to Alec’s lips in a smooth gesture. “I understand. How about this: if I can beat you in a race to the other side of the rink, I get that date? And if you win, well,” Magnus gave a suggestive lift of his eyebrows, “you can do whatever you want with me. We can put this all behind us, or go to that nice Ethiopian place. How does that sound?”

Alec frowned. “What? Magnus, no, you’ll only hurt yours-”

And just like that, Magnus whipped forward. Alec watched, dazed, as he took off across the ice in smooth, quick bursts, gliding across the ice as if he had been boring doing it. Alec gaped for a moment, and then, with the competitive spirit of someone with many siblings, he grinned and tore off across the rink after Magnus.

The two of them game to a sharp halt in front of the rink border at nearly the same moment, Magnus slapping the wall just seconds before Alec did.

“You cheated,” Alec panted out.

“Oh?” said Magnus, hardly even winded. “Would you like a rematch?”

And then the two were tearing down toward the other end of the rink, Magnus laughingly and gracefully weaving through skaters. Most of the ones in Alec’s way simply leapt aside out of fear.

Magnus won their second match, but Alec caught up on the third. When the two hit the wall at the same exact moment the fourth time, Alec looked up in amazement.

“You’ve done this before.”

“Once,” said Magnus, smoothly circling around Alec, “maybe twice.” He did a few circles around the rink, gaining momentum before he jumped in the air, executing a perfect triple Lutz with practiced ease. He landed on his feet and glided across the ice toward Alec, smiling. “Maybe a few times.”

“How did you --”

Magnus tutted. “You hockey players need to watch some other sports every now and then.” He extended a hand. “Magnus Bane.”

And suddenly, the pieces clicked. Alec stared, aghast, and began bumbling through an apology. It wasn’t every day that he, a mere college hockey player, tried teaching a heavily awarded figure skater how to skate. Alec could have died from mortification.

“Oh my God, you’re -- you placed gold in the Grand Prix last year,” blurted Alec.

“And the Four Continents,” said Magnus with a nonchalant shrug, “among others.”

“I can’t believe I -- why would you --”

“Why would I not pass up the opportunity to be taught how to skate by a very attractive and sweet young hockey player?” asked Magnus, tapping his chin in a pantomime of thought. He skated backwards and, once again, Alec followed as if pulled by a string.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t believe --”

“No, Alexander,” Magnus cut off, coming to a smooth halt. In a dramatic role reversal, Alec nearly ran into him, and Magnus righted him with ease and care, his smiling persona finally giving way to a nervous smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I completely understand if you aren’t interested in that date.”

“No!” Alec spoke louder than he intended, drawing stares from a few of the others on the ice. Magnus nodded, crestfallen.

“No, I mean, yes,” Alec tried again. He couldn’t remember the last time one person had been able to make him so flustered. “I mean, you did win fair and square.”

Magnus watched him thoughtfully, the side of his mouth beginning to quirk upward again. “Oh? I thought you cheated.”

“Okay,” said Alec, “Then how about one more go?”

The two down. When they finally hit one, Alec stood in place, watching as Magnus zipped across the rink. He slapped the border triumphantly and turned to gloat, only to burst into laughter when he saw Alec still leaning on the wall by the finish line.

Alec grinned back at him and pushed off the wall. The two met in the middle of the rink, laughing.

Maybe the holidays wouldn’t be so lonely after all.

[terriblelifechoices]

Okay, so the prompt thing for Graves and Credence and.... uhh... Either 15 or 26? Or 15 AND 26??? (I'm so sorry I'm a terrible indecisive person and your writing is amazing.)

For the prompt meme here.  15 “That was a perfect example of how not to do things.” and 26 “I didn’t intend to kiss you.” 

Let’s Give Them Something Worth Looking At

Graves hated MACUSA’s annual masquerade ball.  It was an absolute nightmare to coordinate security for the ball, because half his staff put in for time off to attend it and only a quarter of them got it, which put anyone who hadn’t in a snit, and the other half hated the ball as much as Graves did.  Graves had given up on trying to make everyone happy about thirty minutes into coordinating security for the first time; he’d instituted a lottery for the ball’s attendee’s, with the stipulation that no one who had attended the ball in the previous year was allowed to enter, and bribed everyone else with time and a half pay.  No one was entirely happy with how things turned out, but it kept things from escalating into department wide vendettas.  

He looked out over the sea of dancers, tracking the exits and checking for spots of trouble.  Sooner or later, some drunk idiot was going to decide that wearing a mask made them anonymous.  Graves had no idea why anyone thought that wearing a mask gave them license to do whatever they pleased, but it happened every damn year with depressing frequency.

“You’re not actually supposed to be working right now,” Seraphina said, handing him a glass of Samhain wine.  

“I’m not working,” Graves told her.  “I am attending the ball, like you ordered me to.”  He was still contemplating the appropriate revenge for that.  

Seraphina knew it, too.  

“I’m wearing a mask and everything,” Graves continued, gesturing to the black domino mask he was wearing as a concession to the evening.

“Really,” she said flatly.  “Because it looks an awful lot like you’re working.  You’re dressed for work, and you’re watching the ball from high ground, checking for trouble and brooding over how much you hate this event, which is what you do when you’re working the ball and not attending it.”

Graves couldn’t argue with that, seeing as it was exactly what he’d been doing.  “You’re going to order me to go mingle, aren’t you?” he asked, resigned to his fate.

“I’m going to order you to mingle,” Seraphina confirmed.  “Go.  Mingle.  Find someone to dance with.  Try not to make too much of an ass of yourself.”

“You’re a petty tyrant, Seraphina,” Graves said, draining his glass of wine.  “Remind me to start a coup Monday morning.”

“I’ll pencil it in,” Seraphina deadpanned.

Graves shot a stinging hex at her just to be petty.  He sidestepped her return volley – Seraphina always favored a jellylegs jinx – inadvertently putting one of the other party-goers in the line of spell fire.  

“Oh, shit,” said Graves, moving to catch the other wizard.  

The wizard Seraphina had accidentally hexed was tall and slender, hardly any weight in Graves’ arms at all.  He was wearing a half-face black cat mask to match the feline tilt to his eyes, and dressed head to toe in black to complete the illusion.  The only spot of color on him was the jingling silver bell at his throat, which chimed as he fell over.

Graves banished the jinx with a wave of his hand.  “Sorry,” he said, setting the other wizard on his feet again.  

“It’s alright,” the other wizard told him.  His voice was young and naggingly familiar.  “How did you do that?  I thought you needed a wand to do magic.”

Graves frowned at him.  His talent for wandless magic was widely known, and MACUSA’s elite knew who he was.  Who was this boy?  And why was his voice so familiar?

“Are you alright, Credence?” Seraphina asked.

Graves abruptly realized who he was.  Credence Barebone, the No-Maj Goldstein had almost gotten herself fired over.  The No-Maj who turned out to be a wizard after all, the only Obscurial on record who’d survived past the age of ten.  He and his youngest sister were Seraphina’s pet project, the literal poster children for better screening for No-Maj born wizards and an end to Rappaport’s law.  Graves had to admit, the Barebone siblings were the perfect poster children.  Credence was young and gorgeous, all artfully tousled dark hair and high cheekbones.  His mouth was full and plush, an invitation to sin.  His sister was blonde and waif-like, peering out at the world with big blue eyes.  You’d have to be a complete bastard to dismiss either one of them, or what they’d gone through.

“I’m fine, ma’am,” Credence said to Seraphina.  “He kept me from falling over.  Thank you, sir,” he added politely.

“It was my fault to begin with,” Graves said gruffly.  “It was the least I could do.”

“That’s Graves for ‘you’re welcome,’” Seraphina told Credence.  “Ignore him, he’s being cranky because he didn’t want to come to the ball.”

“I am not cranky,” Graves said.  “You make me sound like a toddler up past his bedtime.”

“Did I?  I was trying to make you sound like a cranky old man with no sense of fun.”

“I know how to have fun,” Graves said, well aware of the fact that Seraphina was goading him.  “I’ll prove it to you.  Dance with me, Barebone.”

Credence made a frightened squeaking noise.

“Percival,” Seraphina said, exasperated.  “That was a perfect example of how not to ask someone to dance.  Don’t make me tell Grandmama you need a refresher course in manners.”

“Please don’t,” Graves said immediately.  Seraphina had asked him to escort her to her coming out ball, what felt like a lifetime ago.  She’d wanted to thwart any potential matchmaking mamas, and showing up at her own ball on the arm of a boy who wasn’t a blood relation would make everyone think she already had a beau.  Grandmama Genevieve had figured out Seraphina’s plan pretty quick.  She’d also declared that no damn Yankee boy was going to disgrace her halls with bad manners, and Graves had spent a terrifying two weeks before Seraphina’s cotillion getting a crash course in Southern gentility.  

He bowed politely to Credence, careful to use the exact degree he’d been taught.  (Bowing too deeply made you look sloppy and rag-mannered, bowing too lightly made you look cheeky.)  “Mr. Barebone, would you do me the very great honor of dancing with me?” he asked.

“Oh,” said Credence.  “Is that a thing wizards do?” he asked Seraphina.  “Is it alright for men to dance with other men?”

“It’s not common,” Seraphina said.  “But it’s hardly illegal.”

“What about your cause?” Credence asked.  “I don’t want to undo any of your hard work.”

Graves had heard that the Barebone boy was smart – Goldstein and Goldstein the Younger had been tasked as the Barebone siblings minders, and Goldstein was justifiably proud of the boy – but this was the first time he’d ever seen that intelligence in action.  The polite thing to do would have been to accept Graves’ offer, not check for political ramifications.

He liked Credence better for it.  He wished more of his junior Aurors would stop to think things through, rather than jumping headfirst into trouble.

“Percival is the Head of Magical Law Enforcement,” Seraphina said.  “If people see him dancing with you, they’ll think that he supports our cause.”

“I do support your cause,” Graves pointed out.

Credence’s plush lips curved into a warm grin beneath his half mask.  “Thank you,” he said to Graves.  “I’d be delighted.”

“Do you always stop to check the political ramifications before you dance with someone?” Graves inquired as he escorted Credence to the dance floor.

“Image is important,” Credence said.  “No one looked at me, when I was a No-Maj, because I didn’t look like someone worth looking at.  No one saw me, not really, except for Miss Tina.  Now all of MACUSA’s looking at me, and I need to look like someone worthy of their respect or they’re never going to give me the time of day.  I can’t afford to be careless.”

Graves startled, because he knew exactly how that felt.  He was a Graves, in addition to being Seraphina’s right hand man.  The Director of Magical Security and Head of Magical Law Enforcement, with all the expectations those positions entailed.  He couldn’t afford to be careless, either.  Not with the whole world watching, waiting for him to slip up.

“Me neither,” he confided.  He held his hand out to Credence.  “Shall we give them something worth looking at?”

“Yes,” Credence said, slipping a strangely scarred palm into Graves’ own.

There was a briefly awkward moment as both of them stepped forward to lead.  Credence laughed, the sound bright and sparkling, and yielded so sweetly that Graves went dry-mouthed against the sudden surge of desire.

He shook his head to clear it.  It had been too long since he’d bedded anyone, if he was thinking such thoughts about Credence.  Credence was the same age as his junior Aurors, and Graves never had lustful thoughts about them.  It would have been an abuse of power.

Credence, Graves thought, had a taste for power, if his awareness of political maneuvering was any indicator.

He spun Credence around the dance floor, smiling at Credence’s open delight.  He liked dancing; he always had, and Credence was the perfect partner.  Credence laughed when Graves tilted him back into an elaborate dip, the bell at his throat jingling merrily in agreement.

The music changed, shifting from a stately waltz into something more energetic.  The brass section of the orchestra took over, piping out a lively swing tune.

“May I?” Graves asked.  He was, against all expectations, having a good time.  He didn’t want to stop dancing just yet.

“Yes,” Credence said, giving Graves his hand again.

Graves waited, just for a second, finding the beat of the music and letting it sink into his bones.  He let his hips go loose and relaxed as he pulled Credence into the beat, feet tapping quickly as he went.  Credence gripped his hand and leaned back, letting the centrifugal force balance them both as they spun.  The other dancers gave them room to really move, and someone – Graves suspected Hughes – catcalled, “Go get him, boss!”

“Trust me?” he asked.

Credence considered that for a long second, and then he nodded.

“Let’s show off a little,” Graves said, stepping just a little in front of Credence and using momentum to swing Credence around his hip and into his arms.  Credence gave a shriek of laughter as Graves somersaulted him over his arm and back onto his feet, landing like the cat he was pretending to be.  

“Okay,” Credence said, breathless with exertion.  “I think we’ve shown off enough.”  

“Probably,” Graves agreed.  There was a cameraman from the New York Ghost in the crowd.  He was willing to bet that a photo of him dancing with Credence would make it above the fold in the society pages of tomorrow’s edition.  “Drink?”

“Yes, please,” said Credence.  “I didn’t know you could dance,” he said.  “You always seem so stern, whenever I see you at the Woolworth building.”

Graves shrugged.  “People expect the Head of MLE to look stern,” he said.  “It’s like you said: image is important.  People want their authority figures to look controlled and commanding.”

“It’s not just image with you, though, is it?  You actually are that controlled and commanding.  It’s not just an image you project to make people listen to you.”

“Is that what you think you do?” Graves asked, curious.  He’d heard Credence speak before; the younger man was articulate and clever.  It had to be more than just image with him, too.

“It is what I do,” Credence corrected.  “You don’t know what it’s like, Mr. Graves.  You’ve always had magic, you grew up in this world.  Me?  I spend every day terrified that this is going to be the day that someone tells me it was a lie, that I don’t really belong here after all.”

“You belong here,” Graves said firmly.  “This is your world now, and no one can take it from you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Credence pointed out.  “How can you sound so certain?”

“I’ve got an eye for talent,” Graves said.  “So does Seraphina.  I’d poach you from her, if I didn’t think she’d kill me for it.  You’ve had, what, six months to get used to our world?  And you’ve already adapted to it – you’re already making changes.  You’ve clearly got a brilliant career in politics ahead of you.”

“Oh,” said Credence, blushing beneath his mask.  “That’s very kind of you to say.”

“I am not kind,” Graves protested.  “I’m an Auror.  We don’t do nice.  It’s the truth, that’s all.”

“I think you’re kind,” Credence said, darting in to press a quick kiss to Graves’ cheek.  He realized what he’d done a second later and went tomato colored. “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s alright,” Graves said, checking for photographers.  The last thing Credence needed was to be embroiled in a scandal.  “I didn’t mind.”

Credence blinked.  “You don’t?”

“You’re gorgeous and clever and articulate,” Graves said.  “Why the hell would I mind?”

“Oh,” Credence said again.  “I didn’t intend to kiss you, Mr. Graves.  But I think I want to?”

Seraphina was going to murder him for this.

“Let me take you on a proper date,” Graves said.  “And then you can decided if you really want to kiss me or not.”

Credence beamed at him.  “I’d like that,” he said.

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

2016 Fanfiction Round-Up

Copied this fanfic round-up from @veliseraptor​ because I’m always a sucker for this kind of thing and I pretty much always do some kind of fic retrospective. Also I’m only doing this on AO3, not counting FFN.

Total Year-Long Wordcount: The unfortunate thing about my inability to finish stuff in a reasonable time frame means that there’s probably a big difference between how much I wrote last year and how much I actually posted. On the other hand, something like half of “the kindness of strangers” was written prior to this year and I’m still counting everything I posted, so whatever. Adding it all up, I posted 67,504 words on AO3 (minus “adventures of tiny Loki and Thor”), but my dubiously accurate 2016 document contains 97,000 words, so...my actual wordcount for the year is probably around 85,000.

This year I wrote and posted: 16 fics, of which 3 have more than one chapter, and 53 new “adventures of tiny Loki and Thor” posts 

Overall Thoughts

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted? I didn’t set a word-count goal of any kind, so...I don’t know? I’d say I did okay, although now that I’m looking at it, I feel like I should have finished/posted even more short fics than I did, which is...not a super helpful way to look at things.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? Maybe the “I got pissed about Hydra Cap” one, considering I sure didn’t see that asinine “twist” coming. I also didn’t really expect I’d write so many Avengers Academy fics, although maybe I should have. Of course, those are still both Marvel. Probably the only really out-there fic was flailing in the deep, for @markiplier‘s Slime Rancher and Subnautica videos. 

What’s your own favorite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest? Overall, I think I’d have to say under bright stars burning--I struggled a lot with that one too, partly because it was so different from anything I’d written before (taking place over a long period of time, with two characters gradually developing a relationship, and a somewhat more meandering plot than normal because of that; plus most of it was set in the past, requiring a lot more research than usual), and I spent a lot of the writing process sure I was producing absolute garbage, but I ended up being really satisfied with it. I think it has a good arc, with vignettes that work well individually, and based on the comments, I think I did a good job writing Steve’s voice, using gradually maturing word/style choices for different life stages, and showing how he and Loki fit well together. I don’t know, I just like it a lot. 

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? Taking the plunge and committing to one of my long-term WIPs (the kindness of strangers) for Marvel Big Bang, I suppose. I learned, uh, that trying to wrestle a story I wrote in disconnected chunks over 2+ years is agonizing but more or less possible? 

From my past year of writing, what was….

My most popular story of this year: Not counting the adventures of tiny Loki and Thor, my fic with the most kudos was the state of my head (228), followed by “under bright stars burning” (178), Metal Gear Widow (137), and “the kindness of strangers” (131). By comments, it’s pretty much the same but in a different order: “the kindness of strangers” (58 comment threads), “under bright stars burning” (32), and “the state of my head” (16). If you go by percentage of kudos to hits, it’s “the state of my head” (13%), “the kindness of strangers” (12%), I’m your national anthem (12%), and “under bright stars burning” (10%). Also I’m sure that’s way more than anyone wanted to know. 

Most fun story to write: Maybe “the state of my head”; I got inspired by a prompt, it all came together quickly, and I knocked it out in a weekend. Writing from Tony’s POV was fun, too. “flailing in the deep” was another one where I got to be funny.

Story with the single sexiest moment: Literally the only semi-explicit sex scene (by which I mean, I didn’t fade to black but I also didn’t describe specific body parts) I’ve ever written was for let your colors bleed and blend with mine (Crimson Peak, Thomas/Edith) and that was right at the end of 2015 so it doesn’t quite count. Otherwise there’s a kissing scene in “under bright stars burning” but it’s...not very sexy...

Most “Holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story:  uhhhhh. well, “the kindness of strangers” probably has the most/nastiest Loki whump I’ve posted on AO3 thus far, to the point that I think a few readers were surprised, so I suppose there’s that??

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: I hadn’t really written Steve before “under bright stars burning” and that ended up being a reasonably long fic all from his POV, at different points throughout his life, so writing that one definitely gave me a better sense of him as a character. 

Hardest story to write: Gonna have to go with “the kindness of strangers,” which should be obvious to anyone who noticed me screaming about Marvel Big Bang for the last several months. 

Biggest Disappointment: I’m not great with deadlines, as everyone probably knows, so pretty much every time I sign up for anything with a deadline, I end up causing myself a lot of stress and just barely squeaking in under the wire, often with less of a story than I originally planned, or actually a little bit after the deadline in one way or another. I’ve often been especially bad about this with Yuletide, posting an unfinished placeholder on the deadline and then getting it actually done before reveals; way back in 2011, I never did get it done and they had to send it out for a pinch hit the night before reveals, and I still feel bad about that (and keep intending to go back to the fic I was trying to write). This year I got caught doing it again and although I did end up posting a complete story, I’m definitely not happy with it because it’s like...one third of the story I meant to write. I still intend to finish it, but the fact that I didn’t is frustrating. 

Biggest Surprise: Nothing comes to mind.

Most Unintentionally Telling Story: I’ve written exactly two Marvel-related fics that aren’t about Loki, and they’re both about Steve, one where he’s progressive and mad at the whole world, and another where Avengers Academy Steve realizes he’s on the aro/ace spectrum. That probably says something.

Favorite Opening Line(s):

At this point, Tony is running almost entirely on adrenaline and good old-fashioned Stark bravado (patent pending), so he’s pretty much prepared for things to go completely to shit at any second. The particular variety of shit remains to be seen, but honestly, shit is shit and he’s mostly just banking on JARVIS deploying the new suit before Loki switches from talking to shooting. (the state of my head)

“What the fuck is this?” (I’m your national anthem)

Dorian was worried about the Inquisitor. This was hardly unusual, to be fair; in fact it was so far from being a new state of affairs that when Dorian wondered briefly what it would be like to live without at least a vague background worry for Elden, he came up blank. (another year)

For as long as Gamora has known him, Thanos has been a collector, entirely unmatched. He has been so for much longer than that, in fact; Gamora herself and all her siblings are proof. (the kindness of strangers)

Favorite Line(s) from Anywhere:

“I wouldn’t say nervous,” he hedges. Nervously. (the weight of it all)

“I’ve never stood for any of that shit, and I’m sure as hell not going to let anybody pretend Captain America stands for it either. That’s not—I won’t give more power to that kind of hatefulness. If people want to be bigots, fine, that’s on them, but they do not get to use this symbol to spread and validate their hate.” (I’m your national anthem)

There’s about five seconds of resounding silence, during which Loki shivers and barely seems to be breathing and Tony keeps rubbing his shoulder because apparently this is his life now, and then Barton says, “What the fuck, Stark?” (the state of my head)

Loki growls under his breath and makes a sharp gesture that sends another robot flying. “End program,” he snaps, and glowers at Natasha again. “Did you have a point, or did you simply wish to drag me back to the infatuated horde slavering for my brother’s return?” Natasha tilts her head. Whatever else you could say about Loki (and there’s a lot), he sure has a fancier vocabulary than most people she knows. (getting the gang together)

He is a being of countless interwoven myths and stories, the precise intersection of which seems to shift every time he tries to examine it, and eventually he stops trying, because he is no longer sure that it is relevant to what he is doing here. One thing, in all this, is constant: always, he is Loki, and he knows more than almost anyone that identity is malleable, that facts and truth are not always perfectly interchangeable. (we could be heroes)

“I see,” Loki says. He does, actually; he has studied and used enough magic to know that some laws of reality simply are, immutable no matter the power of the one seeking to change them. This knowledge does nothing to make him feel any less weary, and for a moment he thinks the weight of all this really will crush him, that he lacks the strength to do anything but sink into the dust of this barren realm and sleep there forever. (in death’s other kingdom)

haha so it turns out I liked a bunch of lines in this year’s long fics so I’m just gonna...list those separately at the bottom...

Top 5 Scenes from Anywhere You Would Choose to Have Illustrated: 

"under bright stars burning,” Steve and Loki hanging out on Coney Island, especially the bit where they’re sitting on the boardwalk railing watching the beach with the Wonder Wheel behind them

ditto, the kissing scene :3

anything?? those are the only two scenes that really come to mind in a “oh man I wish someone would draw this, it would be super cute” way, but 1) “the kindness of strangers” already has a bunch of awesome art from @neurovicky, which is amazing, and 2) I am thrilled with literally any fanart of my fics

Fic-writing goals for 2017:

continue writing at least a little bit every day

continue to post at least one new short fic to AO3 each month (last year I said “even if it’s a new ‘adventures of tiny Loki and Thor’ or ‘Custom figures’ chapter” but I managed even without that, I think, barely, so I should be able to do it again

continue to try focusing on fucking finishing some of the many, many, many fics languishing on my WIP list, especially the shorter ones that I really should have written and posted months or even years ago

more specific fic goals:

finish “the kindness of strangers” part III

finish the rest of my Yuletide fic haha whoops

New Year’s Resolution fic because my actual Yuletide fic was late, more whoops

that damn Stoki Week fic I started back in June

“Avengers Academy: Friendship Is Magic”

finish the rest of always gold to me

shit, I should get back to winter in our bones

and work on a followup to “under bright stars burning”

I don’t knowwww there are so many others

Favorite lines from “under bright stars burning” because sure why not, please note these are all very spoilery if you want to read the fic and haven’t:

“You would [like Thor],” Loki says, like it’s a law of the universe. “Thor is…bright, and boisterous, and everyone loves him, even when they are displeased with him. He is impossible to ignore. And I am…not him.”

He darts a glance toward Steve and then away, studying the shoreline, and Steve is suddenly struck by how beautiful Loki is. He’s noticed before, but not quite like this, with the breeze ruffling Loki’s hair and the sun highlighting those fine, sharp features Steve is always itching to draw. He doesn’t just want to draw Loki now, though; mostly he’s wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

Steve sighs, shoulders slumping, and gives up on the attempt at a smile. “It’s my mom. She…working in the TB ward finally caught up to her.” He swallows hard around the lump in his throat, which seems to be growing sharp points with every word. “The funeral was today.”

Loki gives him a look that somehow combines concern with profound skepticism.

Steve nods, his gut twisting uneasily as more threads of the nightmare come into focus, connect, begin to compose a larger picture. The golden prince in the red cape, blinding and bright, with a shadow no one ever notices. Cheers and thunderous applause (but not for the shadow, never for the shadow). His hand turning blue and ridged in the monster’s grip, and horror freezing the breath in his lungs more effectively than the glacial cold. A glowing blue box radiates cold and his hands turn blue as he touches it monster monster monster and revulsion is so thick in his throat he thinks he’ll choke on it. Rage and terror, rage and terror, no more than another stolen relic, claimed to love me, tell me tell me tell me, never wanted never loved never real and fear again. A corona of golden light. A spear and a throne and plans plans plans he will do it he will show them he is right, is worthy (is nothing but the monster parents tell their children about at night)—

Desert. Blood on the sand. A bridge. Battle, galaxies hanging suspended overhead. An explosion that sends him flying, his grip on the spear the only thing holding him above the abyss, but he has no reason to hold on and so he lets go and falls falls falls—

Bucky falls and Steve can’t catch him. Schmidt takes off with the Tesseract and Steve can’t stop him. Instead he sits at the Valkyrie’s controls and makes a date with Peggy that they both know he won’t make and tries not to think that even as Captain America, all he can do is fail the people he cares about, over and over again. Tries, fruitlessly, not to spend his last moments wishing he had more time with any of them, and then he sends the Valkyrie into the water.

And then Loki moves, quick as thought, already inside Steve’s guard, and Steve has no time or space to block him (and barely the space of a breath for a rush of horrified betrayal) before the tip of his scepter is pressed to Steve’s heart. Everything else disappears in a blaze of consuming blue light.

He is drowning in pain and anger, and then (no, Loki) despair overwhelms everything else, and he opens his hand, and he falls.

Under other circumstances, Loki thinks he might be impressed with his captors’ efficiency. They are expending no apparent effort and still grinding him down, and he does not want to think what it means, that this all must be in preparation for something—or that perhaps it is not, and he truly does not know which thought is worse.

He knows Thanos is too powerful. To think otherwise comes near to blasphemy.

It is fitting, he supposes, that the monster should destroy everything that was once good in its life, even this. Steve does not deserve this, does not deserve to suffer for unknowingly befriending a monster and finding himself inevitably drawn into the monster’s fate, but he will, and Loki can almost feel his spine bending under the weight of his own despair.

Favorite lines from “the kindness of strangers” because ditto, and ditto on spoilers:

This is truth: Thanos is patient like Death is patient, with the calm surety that the universe will bow to his will in the end no matter how long it takes.

Gamora was never nice except when it suited her, even before; was already hard, and fierce in her defense of anything she considered hers, and so once Thanos had broken and remade her, she had something left of herself, harder even than the shell he made her create.

She is a daughter of Thanos, by necessity and unyielding determination (and by something she refuses to call desperation, even in her own mind), but she is also the last surviving member of the Zehoberei race. This second identity is not one she considers often; at best it is not useful to the life she leads now, and at worst it is dangerous, but it still exists, always, alongside anything else Thanos might make of her—a kind of sacred responsibility, almost, even if she has little time or patience for religion or superstition. And the last survivor of the Zehoberei, in the name of all the unknown dead that she alone carries, burns with quiet rage at the idea of Thanos gaining the power to wipe out another race.

“I would take you for a Valkyrie,” he says, quiet and hoarse, “but if that were so you would not come to me, for I cannot succeed even at dying and I know Valhalla is barred to me.”

Yes, she is afraid of Thanos, afraid down to her marrow, and any thinking being should be as well, and perhaps everything else she tells herself—everything else she holds close as evidence that she does not belong to him—is merely an excuse for her own cowardice.

But the truth that matters the most in this case is simple: her reasons have not changed, and they far outweigh her pity for Loki (and her desire to prove to herself that she is not a coward). Whether they are still good reasons or merely excuses to salve what remains of her conscience is immaterial.

This is another truth: Gamora does not like to think in terms of what she can and cannot do. It is too much like helplessness, to look too long at the choices she is denied, and she learned a long time ago that helplessness is a short step away from death or worse. Instead she assesses situations and finds choices to make, and then she chooses, and she does not regret or look back—even when the choices are impossible or effectively meaningless. There is always, always a choice of some kind to be made, and to choose is to regain some measure of control over the situation, no matter how small. If she chooses, she cannot be forced one way or the other, and therefore she is not helpless.

“Soon,” Thanos tells her, his expression satisfied, and something unpleasant curls in Gamora’s stomach, the same mingling of fear and relief she feels whenever Thanos is pleased.

The titan smiles down at him, something both paternal and predatory in his gaze.

Slowly the blankness in his expression is replaced by something just as sharp and feral as the first time Gamora laid eyes on him, only now it is more wary, more focused, both more and less desperate. ... Every now and then, Thanos tells Loki that he is pleased with his progress, and Loki smiles to hear it, and his smile is like a brittle blade.

And for a long moment that freezes the blood in her veins like shards of ice, all she can think is I have failed. She has not done enough, and Terra is going to fall like her world did so long ago, all because she was so determined to wait for the right moment.

“It’s really not that complicated,” Romanoff says, and then: “I’ve got red in my ledger. I want to wipe it out.” There is…a cadence to it, something he knows, not the words but the sense of…something practiced, repeated, held close…

“Because look, he busted up a town because of a fight with his brother, singlehandedly destroyed a SHIELD installation, took out a guy’s eyeball, and threatened a freaking Holocaust survivor. Even if he doesn’t want to be this Thanos’s tool, he’s still a tool in general.”

“Gentlemen,” Fury snaps, “if you’re going to have a pissing contest, do it on your own time. I’m not asking you to like each other or the God of Crazy, I’m asking if you’ll put on your big boy pants for five seconds, do what’s necessary, and work together.”