#i mostly just try to watch from the outside at this point and just curate my own little safe space 💀 its scary out there

[spacedlexi]

i love to hear your thoughts on minnie you're the only one who gets season 4 in the fullest

im so flattered you think so anon 😭

how it feels being in this fandom sometimes

i love analyzing narrative and themes and stuff and S4 has Way more going on than people will give it credit for (S1 + 4 combo my beloved)

[ultfreakme]

You must be in a tumblr bubble because how have you never seen posts with thousands notes claiming most classical literature is actually fanfiction of bible and the rest is of mythology. Like, this isn’t a hot take on tumblr, unfortunately.

Probably because I have a life outside of tumblr and curate my experience, but yes, I have seen posts about how Paradise Lost is just Bible fanfic and Dante's Inferno is self-insert fanfiction, but mostly from people who watch OSPD videos and say it as a joke. It's a major simplification of about a dozen concepts but okay, if you look at it from the point of definitions, yeah, Paradise Lost & the Divine Comedy are technically fanfiction; they are based on pre-existing work, with Dante there's irl people in scenarios they've never been in, etc etc.

Although I have never seen anyone saying any particular fanfic is a literary masterpiece that must simply be taught in academic settings, which is what that OP's post was actually implying.

And here's the thing; I think fanfic has the potential to be considered a classic. Because, what makes let's say, the Divine Comedy so important? It's not because it's old, but because it struck a nerve among the masses, it did things against the societal structure no one dared to do before, it transformed the Italian language as we know it, it's this carefully, excruciatingly crafted work in terms of sentence structure and is primarily a theological exploration. Now this stands out also because the og canon content, the Bible, is MASSIVE in influence. That thing STILL shapes social norms, conventions and expectations.

No current fanfiction now will ever come to be seen as a true classic unless the canon thing the fic is based on reaches Bible levels of influence on society, which is going to take centuries. Same can be applied to Greek Myths in general(also in both these cases the canon thing is also tied to social structure and religion which large portions of the world follow). We don't want to equate the term 'fanfiction' to that stuff because it feels like it's beyond that but technically, yeah. It's fanfiction.

But the term fanfiction itself is extremely recent, it was said first in 1939 and therefore carries temporal contexts and definitions. It's why it feels juvenile and uncomfortable assigning such a new, and initially frowned-upon term to classics. Being angry about what is and what isn't fanfiction depends entirely upon how you view the term 'fanfiction'.

For me, it is value-neutral and doesn't immediately denote lowered quality these days because at the most fundamental level, fanfiction is literary work based on pre-existing media. But if you add the current cultural context in which fanfiction is primarily written, ie., posted online by anyone and everyone with a desire to write, mostly to fulfill shipping fantasies or certain character scenarios canon didn't provide, then I can see why people would consider giving the label of fanfiction to the classics an insult or "shooting too high".

Maybe 'fanfiction' isn't fitting because of all the social stigma around it, maybe it doesn't apply because it feels like trying to apply modern story beats and terms to ancient mythology. What specifically, is making someone uncomfortable about the term 'fanfiction' on the classics? What the hell even is "fanfiction" in the first place because you could argue that The Song of Achilles is canon-compliant POV change fanfiction but its advertised as a retelling. Pride & Prejudice & Zombies also counts for fic. I think there's a good discussion to be had on what makes "fanfiction" as we know it now what it is because even I think assigning the term to Divine Comedy or Paradise Lost feels wrong. Maybe it's about intent? The classics are written with the need for social change or to make people see things different; art for life's sake. But most fic these days are purely art for art's sake- it is peak self-indulgence and self-expression.

I'm looking it up and people keep narrowing the definition of "fanfiction" as like

Amateur writing

Based on copyrighted characters

Without permission from og creator

Now that whole "copyright" concept complicates things because Romeo & Juliet? Not originally by Shakespeare. Dude borrowed characters from a different play, pretty sure he changed Juliette's name, and he wrote it when the og was only recently made. The concept of "copyright" and "author permission" is also VERY recent. What even counts as actually "amateur" because Van Gogh is considered a pro now but when he was alive he only sold one painting apparently so back then he could've been classified as "amateur"?

I have fully derailed. I forgot what I wanted to say-- Okay yeah I'm aware people say the classics are fanfiction, and in a way, yeah, it is, depending on how the individual defines "fanfiction".

[benefits1986]

death note. death wish.

Living your life backwards may be a good way to living a life that's more than black and white, right?

And so, we're here and now. When I'm asked what my wish list is, my usual reply is: Peace of mind.

This response gives a "fuck off" vibe without cursing. It works so well because I got a number of really, really curious gifts for the past years which involved a Moonswatch that was turned over to my dad, para walang palag ang vini ajumma n'yo.

What's my wish list? Back when I was 18 years old, stuck at home and caring for mom, I journaled whenever time permitted it. I listed down delulu x solulu items. I recently unearthed it and I can say that as per my timeline, only a very few things on the list needed to be crossed out. I'm starting this day with rewatching NA Season 4. Habol tayo sa mga paganaps because June is ending soon.

This year, what's my death wish? Building a Lego project I shall not name.

Seeing the first sunrise and sunset in my tiny home outside MNL.

Eating Jap food and downing tea. Rinse and repeat. Then, cheese, cold cuts, and an ice-cold alcoholic drink. Rinse and repeat ulit.

Getting a rice cooker, a wok, a cleaver, and a basic tiny kitchen set up.

Hunting down a mattress and pillows with a mattress protector to address unavoidable back pains atbp.

Biking more and walking more. Watching more Netflix with Dad even when his algo is not algo-ing.

Seeing my good friend power through after a really bad fall.

Getting the edits for a project on the back burner since 2015.

Spending time with my soul sis and Tito Ro that involves Batang 90s galawans in every sense of the word.

Going back to driving or maging passenger princess forever. Puwede both.

Spending more and more time beyond the outside of MNL. Tawid-dagat na us, vini.

Getting Vici and Vidi's vibe as senior dog babies pa rin. Tabing-gutter to tabing-dagat days and nights.

Growing my side project silently. No details are to be shared anytime soon. Plantita may bakuran na saks lang. No flower-bearing plants. And mga curation ng endemic plants sa Pinas na acclimated na. May iba pa pero TMI na e. So eto na lang muna. :-P

A few days ago, I got a kicks that I've been hunting down for quite some time. It reminds me of mom's OG pair when I was the only child. I saw this in her rare photos and boogsh. Ngayon ko pa talaga nakuha 'di ba? Even dad was surprised to see it's giving mom's mom shoes and the 90s vibe that's so me. Hint: Platform because my height is too ugh and I'm a thicccc bitch.

My current hair color also surprised me. Super like mother dragon's staple hair color nung kalakasan niya. This should have been a totally different color, but my colorist and I planned it out so that by December, I'd be able to get the hair color I like based on my mood, of course. Whenever I look at the mirror, it feels as though mom is staring back at me with her RBF. Kakatakot. I look like my Dad, pero 'pag ganito hair ko, shemayyy. Parang bumangon sa lupa nanay kong maligalig. Lerkkkzzz. Lagi na lang this time of the year 'yang pakawala ng paramdam nanay ko. This day starts on a very curious and different note, too. LOL. Maiba naman, for realzzzz noh? Death Note naman. Super straight up, this has been aligned with my best friend naman na. -No viewing; rekta cremate -Ashes in Mt. Pulag and Mt. Batulao (good luck sa magaakyat neto at sa lungs niya) -Walang pasend off sa huling gabi -Walang paghahatid sa huling hantungan -Walang socmed bakas -Walang photos and vids -Walang photos ko pero may photos na mga naprint ko (mostly Instax) -No flowers, no fancy stuff -Finger food -Batang 90s chichirya (tagpipiso) -Non-spiked cocktails -Ice-cold water -Extra hot black coffee -Pride PL na naka vinyl -Instant pancit canton and siomai with rice O 'di ba? Basic lang. Just plugging it here para it's a reminder na una-unahan lang 'yan. No one is too young or too old to die. Kapit lungs. And try seeing life from the vantage point of death. I've questioned myself so many times about this death perspectives. Baka I'm romanticizing it lang, after all. Pero no e. No talaga. I wish ganun nga, pero, siguro, this time around, mas at peace na ako, in a way. I've read about SI as well recently. Then I prompted as Gemini. Sabi tumawag daw ako sa helpline with call to action na pak. Me: I just asked naman. Duh. OA ang nonchalant bitch na 'to, na wonky naman a lot of time. LELS. I guess, now, I'm more open instead of being forced to open up. Malaking difference 'yan, and I guess, that's the difference that makes things better --weekends and weekdays, too. Sana lang mga pimples ko, umayon 'di ba? May jamboree na naman sila because it's the time of the friggin' month na boogsh talaga sila. PS: Super love talaga NA. As in! Hits home on all levels. Plus, super gwapo ni Max and cutie ni vini Helen. Si Max, mala-Jezzazz take the wheel 'yung vibe na weirdo na maligalig. Blue looks so good on him, too!

[vtori73]

What I don't get is why people follow someone then just refuse to interact with anything you share or post, like... WHY bother? Why are you there?

Maybe I'm asking for too much but I hate it when people do that, at worst it makes me anxious because it makes me get paranoid and wonder why you're even HERE to begin with and at the very least just annoy/ticks me off. Someone who I used to have as a follower defended these types of people saying they don't use Tumblr to interact with others and just watch which I get to an extent but WHY is it that 99% of the time anyone who decides to follow ME is the type to NEVER interact with anything I share or post... make it make sense. Like, seriously because hardly anyone ever follows me I check out people who do try to follow me and normally these are people who use Tumblr the normal way, they share and post stuff regularly so... why follow me? Why? Do most people just follow people and never interact with them? What's the point of doing that though???

Like, I could share cute animals and they wouldn't interact, video game stuff, nothing, political stuff nada, personal stuff, oh you better believe they ignore that so like... why? Am I just a person people LOVE to ignore? It feels like this happens outside of social media too, I guess it's just me, I guess I'm just really boring or something or just THAT bad at using social media which... I don't know how that's possible I don't do anything THAT weird/different but I guess it is enough to make me uncool, boring, annoying or whatever to everyone else.

Maybe I take it too seriously but I like curating my experience here on Tumblr and for a while I let people who never interact follow like anyone else but I had enough one day and now I kick off new followers pretty quickly. Maybe I should give them time but tbf and honest... I don't give A SINGLE shit! And I'm allowed to, no one has a right to follow me, if I don't want you here, I'm allowed to fuckin kick you out of my space.

And, even for the few people who did interact with me, the few who actually seemed like friends they would eventually stop, had more important people come into their lives so they would eventually, pretty quickly, get tired of me and stop mostly interacting with me so I would leave and soft block them so they weren't following me anymore. Not necessarily malicious, there was one time in which I just felt we weren't compatible people anymore (politics basically), but regardless I would leave and maybe that hurts people but tbh why does it matter? They barely knew me, and maybe I do it too quickly now as a coping mechanism, reject people before they reject because that's all people ever do to me, I'm allowed that though, it's not like things are much different from back when I didn't do this sort of thing. And, maybe I also rationalize it at times, once one person seemed really happy with their new life so I exited because I didn't really seem like I fit into it and just figured they would still be happy with my presence/that I would mean much if I left/I wanted to give them space for their new life. But again, I was probably just rationalizing my actions. I just have grown tired of being rejected...

Also... these people were usually the ones who interacted with ME first, then like clockwork they would lose interest in me but for the people I interacted with first... they never seemed to want to be my friend. I respect that, I respect their boundaries but... I'm not going to sit here and lie that it doesn't hurt being rejected like that. Also no, I don't LITERALLY ask if we can be friends, I know that's not how that works.

...oh well, just time and time again God or faith or the universe or WHATEVER prove to me I'm only really meant for loneliness. At least I'm more used to it now.

[heartscaffold]

A big thing I like about tumblr is that I can talk mostly nonsense without feeling like Im detracting from the point of my blog. because I can always make more

It's also why I refrain from posting random shit on my main since I use it exclusively for art and occasional unobtrusive update posts so people know Im not dead or away. I like organization and I dont like things bleeding into other things so I have a decent amount of blogs dedicated to certain spheres of interest that I dont think would be appropriate to put on one blog.

I think its mostly because I myself appreciate it when other people employ this approach because it makes it easier to enjoy specific parts of their content without being subjected to the rest of their person as they are, most of the time, just an internet rando to me and unless theres some personality beyond their art that I happen to enjoy looking at I usually prefer when its separate. Sometimes its for the best.

It's especially useful if the person in question Really Enjoys Getting Into Beef With Other People for some reason because then I dont have to see a morbillion discourse posts or qrts or reblogs or something or millions of Hot Takes on my feed when Im specifically curating it to be a fun and mellow experience.

The thing about twitter is that unless youve cultivated an audience that enjoys watching you being you they will likely protest whenever you as an Artist or just COntent maker in general show more personal parts of yourself as it obstructs their enjoyment of their, likely also curated content conveyor. I want to respect that personally, but due to me being a big Dumb Dumb who forgets passwords to his alts and other things outside of my control atm I can't afford to Just Make Another Twitter account, as much as I would like to.

Also Twitter is more conducive to quick spurts of funnymanism rather than discussions of things that interest you. It's easier to quickly qrt someone with "this you?" or a shitty reaction gif than to try and build an actual serious discussion about things. It's what it was built for and as I've grown I've realized that I;m not exactly the perfect kind of person to use that platform.

I'll still be using twitter to post art as it's been my established platform for a while but tumblr is probably best for showing me as I am as a person. It's also why I dont have much of an interest of plugging my tumblr there as I dont want to carry over that same vibe to my much comfier and earnest corner of the internet.

Thats about what I have to say for now. Expect more odd longwinded rambles like this one.

[stormcrow513]

So first off sorry that this came off as calling you hypocritical I definitely didn't mean it as an attack at you at all,

I rebloged from you cause you were there basically, I should have communicated better that I meant it towards the Tumblr community at large, so one last time I apologize for not communicating that properly,

Like I said at the end of it I probably should have worked on making sure I had my thoughts clearer as you bring up some things id consider but wasn't sure how to get out, I mostly rebloged it as was without going over further cause I needed to get it off my head

So bare with me I am having a really bad brain day at the moment and I might not be coming off well

I think we are both in complete alignment that no one should receive hate over fanfiction.

As for the 'disney adult/harry potter adult' thing

Now I completely agree that some people are extremely fucking annoying and inconsiderate about it my ma worked with this woman that put Disney songs on all day long driving everyone nuts and would flip out if people asked her to turn it off cause 'everyone loves Disney'

Like that shits not ok to do to people,

So mocking that entitled attitude that some rock, like the people that had to have the HP game and didn't care that trans people were being hurt

All that is fucked and needs to be called out.

But what I'm getting at is what people find good or bad writing is entirely subjective,

Like one personal example I loved the hell out of King Arthur Legend of the Sword which kinda flopped into none existence compare to The Green Knight I thought I'd love it given my lifetime love of all things Camelot, but I would never watch it again, I just did not like it, but it was very popular.

It's just I don't know how to articulate this

What holds up as an adult with an adult brain depends on your brain, and while there's nothing wrong with not getting someone else's obsession with this or that thing,

I don't understand thinking this thing you like is superior to this thing someone else likes that you don't like

Not saying that's what you're doing,

Just that it's something I see commonly

And while I do have a fairly curated dashboard i try to look outside it to get a wider veiw on things,

Now JK is without a doubt doing harm on an extremely large scale I do not dispute that at all,

And I didn't mean to come across that misogyny is the only issue here just that I think it factors into it,

There is definitely a huge difference in scale.

Gaiman isn't creating and funding rape friendly bills (that I know of)

The way jk is funding bills against trans people

And I am a cis woman looking down the barrel of losing the right to an abortion so I feel the fear of legislation going through that will stripe your right to your body away I literally have had nightmares about being forced to keep a pregnancy,

I in no way am trying to minimize the amount of suffering Jk is causing,

So the amount of people they are hurting IS different

But harm is harm those women he hurt are hurt forever nothing will ever undo it

(And side bar we will never know how many people he's done this to, if I was a victim of his id shut up because I wouldn't want to be harassed and dragged through the Internet for ever,)

And I would personally want his balls ripped off if it was one woman

Again harm is harm irregardless of scale.

There's this thing I read once that comes my view up well 'it doesn't matter if you're drowning in 5 feet of water or 50 drowned is drowned'

From my point of view where I am sitting I am a rape survivor in trying to deal with that trauma I have looked for and listened to so many stories of rape,

and over and over again I see a common theme

rapists get away with it

Rape is treated as a lesser crime

Especially when it's a popular white man that's done it

It just doesn't stop

I'm sorry I wanted to reply back to you immediately because I never meant to make you feel attacked but I need to stop here cause I'm starting to get upset and I don't think I be able to articulate the rest of what I wanted to say, I think I got the most important parts out

And I understand if you blocked me no hard feelings on my end

Edit:

Ok

What I'm really trying and failing to articulate is simply

We are always going to react to feel more viscerally the things that effect us personally

And it's easier to condemn a person we already dislike vs someone who we do

We all have bias and those bias are different then everyone elses

And I think the best way to be kinder to each other when we are speaking about these sort of things is to know what yours are and to remember that you don't know what other peoples bias are

That's all I was trying to say that I'm sad and scared and I wish we could all be kinder going forward and ironically managed to say it in a way that hurt @redshiftsinger

Neil Gaiman is still following the PR playbook

I'm so sick of how Neil Gaiman is continuing to manipulate the conversation while displaying ZERO accountability or remorse.

Do you think him leaking that he's apparently offering to step back from Good Omens Season 3 is a sign that he realizes he fucked up and is trying to make it right? Absolutely not.

What he's doing is making the first moves to launder his reputation so that he can keep making money off of his IP and, eventually, return to the spotlight. All of the overjoyed reactions here and elsewhere are part of that plan.

One part of that Deadline article really stuck out to me.

[Highlighted Text: Deadline understands Gaiman’s offer is not an admission of wrongdoing...

Gaiman’s position is that he denies the allegations and is said to be disturbed by them.]

This is what makes me think that it is actively irresponsible to publicly celebrate or advocate for the continuation of any media project that involves or enriches Gaiman. The fact that Amazon has even announced that Good Omens is on hold shows the credibility of the accusations. And yet Gaiman leaking this information suddenly puts them on the backfoot. "Just take the deal!" cries the fandom. Neil is no longer the bad guy, it's Amazon who are now denying you your comfort show. It's blatant manipulation and it sickens me that it might actually work.

Boosting Good Omens or Sandman or Coraline at this time is not a victimless crime. True, no one person is going to be the difference between Gaiman facing consequences or not. But it's public opinion that will truly determine whether his legacy will be impacted. That's why he's spent a considerable amount of money on the same PR firm as Russell Brand, Prince Andrew, Danny Masterson, and Marilyn Manson. Their specialty is helping rapists get their lives back.

So please think of the long-term implications of breathing a sigh of relief and going back to posting about Good Omens, or signing a petition that gives Gaiman a way out of finally facing the consequences of his own actions.

Yes, none of these shows were 100% made by Gaiman. It sucks that this is going to affect people other than him. But maybe he shouldn't have chosen to sexually abuse at least 5 women and very likely more. In a just world, you fuck around and find out.

[oneshot-wxnderland]

Lab Partners With Benefits Pt. 3 | Percy Jackson

Summary: Another week, another lab and Y/n and Percy are feeling a different kind of tension this time.

Category: fluff 

Part 1 | Part 2

–––––––––––––––––––

          Percy had been kicking himself all week. He had forgotten to ask you for your number before you left his place and now you probably thought he was just some asshole looking for a one-time hookup. And he didn’t want that. And he hoped you didn’t want that either. But he wasn’t really sure what he wanted. 

         It’d been a hot minute since Percy was in any kind of relationship and he wasn’t sure if he was even the relationship kind. Even if he did want to be, his life just didn’t lend itself to dating mortals. There was always some monster popping up that he’d have to fight, or quest he’d have to go on, or emergency at camp he’d have to run off to, and Percy was a shit liar. It’s what messed up the last time he’d tried to date somebody. He was constantly blowing off dates and rain-checking everything because the gods are needy attention seekers. 

          He’d seen superhero movies before and related a lot to when they had similar issues. Percy’s not saying he’s Spiderman or anything, but he does live in New York and save it from constant peril – so yeah, he’s Spiderman. 

          This time, however, he was really considering trying again. Trying with you. And Percy had a plan. 

          Sliding into his seat when there were only a few other people in the room yet, Percy felt pumped up. He woke up early, showered, had a FaceTime with the boys to discuss the game plan, and got to class ahead of you so that he was ready to give you his number the first chance he got before he lost his nerve. That was part of Jason’s advice: offer his number to you instead of asking for yours. He claimed it would make Percy come off more vulnerable and less pushy. Leo mostly just spouted different cheesy lines that Percy would never use. Frank didn’t say much but Hazel piped in every now and then when she took the phone from him. 

          “So, you’re lab partners,” Hazel started. “Do you talk outside of your lab?”

          “No, that’s why I need her number.”

          “But you said you did homework together at your place right? So how’d that go? Did she seem interested?”

          Percy paused. 

          “Yeah, it went... fine.”

          Hazel was blissfully unaware of the blush that was creeping up his neck but Jason didn’t miss it. Or the way he suddenly needed to roll up his sleeves and fiddle with them. 

          “Did you just do the homework?” Jason asked suspiciously. 

          “We uh... kissed...” 

          “Niiiiiicee, Percy!” Leo hollered. “That’s my boy!”

          Frank retook the phone from Hazel and hastily gave an excuse to go before leaving the call and cutting off Hazel’s confused protests.

          “I don’t know what to tell you, man,” Jason shook his head. “This is way beyond my level now. Piper and Annabeth are nearby I’ll go get them-.”

          “No!” Percy cut him off. That’s the last thing he wanted. The girl’s won’t know or care what to do so they’d ask Piper’s siblings and then the entirety of camp would know. “It doesn’t really change anything. I’m going to give her my number and then the ball’s in her court and I don’t have to worry about it.”

          “But your balls were in her court, weren’t they Percy.” 

          “Leo I am going to kill you when I get back to camp and that is a threat.”

          Leo left the call.

          “I’m sure it’ll be fine, just don’t do your game-time face because it’ll scare her off,” Jason tried to get the conversation back on track.

          “What face? I don’t have a scary face?” Percy added another item to the list of things to not do when he saw her.

          “Yes you do. It’s when you’re charging into battle but this isn’t battle is it Percy?” 

          “You’re lucky,” Percy lamented while he grabbed his backpack. “You just woke up and were already with Piper. All the hard work done for you.” 

          “You got this man, just be yourself.” 

          Percy decided to throw that particular bit of garbage advice away. 

          Now he was sitting in his seat, got there early, and he was even wearing his nice t-shirt, so what could go wrong.

          As soon as you walked in the door all of his carefully curated bravado deflated inside of him. You walked towards your shared table and he had to expel childish nerves he hadn’t felt in years. He’s in college now, for Hades’ sake. He was a man.

          “Hey,” you greeted as you sat down.

          “Hi.” That was stupid. Men don’t say ‘hi’. He should’ve said ‘hey’ back.

          “You’re here early,” you commented and Percy just nodded like an idiot. 

          The plan was to giver you his number as soon as he saw you, but he couldn’t just blurt that out of nowhere. 

          “How’ve you been?” 

          There. Establishing a conversation and definitely not stalling.

          “I’ve been good.” The small amused smile on your face calmed him down a little. He’s got this.

          Class started before he could slip his number in casually but Percy wasn’t deterred. He wasn’t going to let geology get in his way.

                    While you were reading the data you had to chart on the graph, you noticed Percy’s usual fidgeting get even worse. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, you saw him concentrating intensely on the paper and trying to contain his frustration. You recognized the signs since one of your friends has dyslexia, but you knew he wouldn’t ask for help.

          “So we have to plot the points on the graph and then draw the elevation lines, right?” You asked casually, looking over to him for confirmation. He nodded his head, but still continued to squint at the numbers which all were very small print and close to each other.

         Muttering the numbers as if to yourself but loud enough for him to hear, you got to work. 

          Percy sat back and smiled a little, knowing what you were doing. He looked over at you, from your furrowed brow to your crossed legs bouncing with your tapping foot. With a contented sigh, he recalled what it felt like to be in between those legs. Having them wrapped around his hips while you moaned his name. 

          His eyes trailed up your body, memories that were attached to each part flooding through him like a highlight reel of his deepest fantasies. Then he got to your bare arms and the goosebumps on the skin shook him out of it.

          “Cold?” he asked, interrupting you trying to help him which he really should have been listening to. 

          “Yeah, a little.” 

          “Here.” Percy shrugged off his hoodie and held it out to you before pausing (and slightly panicking.)

          Hold up, is this weird? Am I being weird right now? Should giving her my hoodie come before or after we exchange numbers? I guess doing it before could be a good test of whether she would be interested in exchanging numbers. But this is couple stuff. Her wearing my hoodie. That usually comes after numbers. But she’s cold now and I can’t seem like an asshole withholding warmth unless she accepts or declines my number. 

           Luckily, you didn’t seem to notice his panic as you took the hoodie from him without hesitation and put it on. “Thanks.”

          He calmed down as he watched you roll up the sleeves so that your hands were free to work and he felt a different kind of warmth spread through him. He liked the way you looked in his hoodie. 

          You caught him watching you and it threw you off. This wasn’t the heated gaze that had made you melt before, this was... softer. But the moment was ruined when you glanced down and saw that he hadn’t drawn a single point yet.

          “Hey,” you tapped your pencil on his paper. “Focus.”

          “Sorry.”

          You worked well together for a while. The rhythm of plotting points distracted Percy from his nerves. That is until he felt your hand on his forearm.

          “What’s this?” You asked, finger tracing the SPQR of his tattoo and making him shiver.

          “Oh, it’s a band.” 

          “What band?”

          “The Super Popular... Cool Rockers.”

          “They spell Cool with a Q?”

          “That’s what makes it cool.”

          “Ah.”

          Percy went back to the worksheet, congratulating himself on his quick thinking when he saw you pull out your phone. 

          “What are you doing?” he asked, totally nonchalant. 

          “Looking up the Super Popular Qool Rockers.”

          Percy snatched your phone. 

          “Oh, you won’t find them.” He dodged your attempts to grab it. “They’re really underground.”

          “You’ll be really underground if you don’t give me my phone back.” Percy hastily returned your phone, as if the threat scared him. You tried to glare at him, but found it too hard to suppress your smile once his broke out. “Thank you. Now will you tell me what it really means?”

          “Maybe one day.” People started packing their things and leaving since class had flown by faster than Percy liked. Sensing his window of opportunity closing he decided to Hades with it. “Depends if you go on a date with me.”

          You took your time standing up and gathering your things while pretending to mull it over in your head. Which Percy really did not appreciate. 

          “Maybe one day,” you answered him with a coquettish smile and took a few steps towards the door. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

          Percy was too concentrated on restraining a fist pump to puzzle out your meaning. 

          “We didn’t get much work done today, so we better finish what we started at your place.” You winked at him and strided out the door.

          With a mischievous grin, Percy was quick to follow. 

[mtreebeardiles]

Interlude: Safe

This scene got cut from The Paths You Take but I wanted to explore it anyway, so I pulled it and made it it’s own oneshot (fully on AO3) Smut, feelings, but mostly character/relationship study. Smut is not particularly graphic imo, but yeah. Inspired in large part by “Safe Here” by LP off her newest album Churches Many thanks to Jedi for reviewing the spicy for me! If I missed anything, lemme know :)

There was something soothing about flying at night, inertia dampeners on, moving quiet, skirting over a largely still, moonlit world below, wrapped in something liminal, fleeting. Like the world had changed and only they were there to witness it, to see it as such, carved in shadows and light, the press of the Port's glow against a dark sky just visible in the distance another stretch of the dream. 

 A glance to his right showed him Scott sitting in his seat with his legs drawn up, knees to his chest and arms around them, fingers moving in an easy tattoo against his calves and eyes fixated on the view beyond. It was the stillest he'd ever seen him outside of sleep, open and vulnerable, and he knew, somehow, that he was feeling it too -- the magic of this moment, this carefully curated sequence of events and circumstances that could only be created here and now and never again, never quite the same. 

 "Quite the view, isn't it?" he whispered, and the hush of his voice did not interrupt the energy, the atmosphere around them and he watched as Scott smiled and glanced his way. 

 "Quite the company," the other young man murmured back, and his hand was reaching out and Reyes caught it, their fingers twining, Scott's warmth spreading through him. A thumb running against the back of a hand, the playing of his fingers against his own soft and gentle, and Reyes wondered if maybe here, now, was the whole point of loving someone: a stolen moment, precious in its fragility, something to press into the memory of sensation like the figments of a dream upon waking, the details hazy but the feeling remembered. 

 "You don't want to eat?" he asked as they drew closer and Scott shook his head, smile widening a touch, and Reyes gave his hand a squeeze in acknowledgment. 

 Docking, locking up his shuttle and ensuring it'd be topped off and ready to go come morning, Reyes took Scott's hand again. That liminal sense followed them, undisturbed by the change in scenery, persistent in the haze of neon lights, in snatches of conversation and laughter and exclamations from various establishments alive with the night as they made their way down now familiar streets. It reminded Reyes of other nights, memories centuries old, warm summer air and cicadas and that long stretch of twilight before the sun would set, when it was easy to believe the world was bigger than it was, that there was so much left to see. A feeling harder and harder to recapture the older he'd gotten, the more he'd lost, wonder supplanted by a grief he'd struggled to carry.

 And here, now, somehow, he'd found it again: a galaxy away, in the hands and eyes of a man he'd never have met back in the Milky Way, and his chest ached with the profundity of it. The rightness. So many days and weeks and years spent trying to trace fate's tendrils, to understand her picture, her intentions towards him, and he never would have seen this.

[kittydemon9000]

SO MERLOPIAN KAI PART 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

So, with Kalmaar, he ofc immediately goes to his parents about his feeling, slightly placing his revenge on hold. They are...dubious about it, but Maya raises the point of how there has never been a human/merlopian hybrid before, and from what Ray has told them about having two EM parents it’s possible for Kai to have some water abilities himself, which could be what gave Kalmaar his feeling. So, they agree to look into it.

Moving on..... Uh. Kai doesn’t have a fun time in S6, as briefly as he’s there. You see, Nahdakahn knows exactly what buttons to press and is able to get Kai into a panicked state where he, on the verge of a panic attack and mental breakdown, just says “I wish that I could just be normal! I wish I could just go home! I wish I could be with dad and mom and father and Kal and Bentho and Nya!!!”

The “normal” comment comes from how they weren’t able to completely hide Kai’s heritage since yeah, there were other people on the boat who saw him. That and he also tried a lot less to keep it hidden. And because some humans are assholes, he has to deal with that.

So ofc, Nahdakahn interprets it in the worst ways and as two wishes. Kai is now a full human yes….but was also sent to where the fish fam currently were……which just so happened to be at the bottom of the ocean.

So yeah, double trauma for both groups. Kai got to experience what drowning felt like, and his fam was essentially forced to watch him die since there was nothing they could do. They were too far under to take him to the surface and too far from the palace to take him there.

But dw, it gets even worse.

You see, the whole reason Nahdakahn is being this malicious about Kai’s wishes is because he learned that Kai was the reason the Preeminent was destroyed, thereby destroying Djinjago.

Nahdakahn is then able to do a “oh? Is this not what you wanted? I thought you wished to be normal.” Which ofc sounds really bad since it’s in front of his family. “But, I understand. You grow tired of the stares in the street, how they whisper behind you back about what you are. Not human, not merlopian, not normal. Just a freak masquerading as one of them.”

This ofc supremely pisses off the fam. Like, weapons drawn ready to commit murder.

But then Nahdakahn stop them with a “ah ah ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. After all, I am the only way your son has a chance at living. So go ahead. Make a wish.”

Trimaar ends up being the one to do it, and is smart enough to know this uh will twist it in anyway he can so says. “I wish for Kai to be sent safely to the surface without harm done upon him.”

Blah blah blah, your wish is yours to keep, Trimaar realizing “wait there’s a lot that could be interpreted” but too late BAM now Kai’s kinda stuck on the Misfortune’s Keep.

And he....generally has a pretty bad time. Think Jay but this time it’s personal.

However, Kai’s appearance had Trimaar get the Merlopian army and start heading to the surface. The remaining ninja have a brief moment of “are you kidding me two enemies at once” before learning that this is Kai’s lost family and they’re here to help.

So now the ninja have a whole ass fish army to help them, plus a very protective, very angry fish family.

But for the rest of canon, the only difference is that when they’re leaving Tiger Widow Island, Nya gets snatched along with Jay(who was taken because he hadn’t used his wish yet) and they aren’t stuck on the island, and then later that Kai gets sucked into the sword when the ninja launch their rescue mission.

But yeah, it gets all Un-Happened by Jay’s wish(which at seeing Kai physically hurt and being emotionally torn apart at his baby sister dying, wished that none of this ever happened and that Nahdakahn was never found), only like canon Nya and Jay still remember what happens.

Nya is now firmly on team Kai Is Alive and tells her parents everything about what happened and the wish Jay made, and more importantly where Kai is.

Unfortunately, they need to take some time and prepare. Trimaar and Maya have been doing their best over the years to open the populace possibly making bonds with the humans, but now it’s finally happening. They can’t just go up there out of no where, since from what Nya has told them 1) most humans don’t even know they exist and 2) in the past few years they have been subject of many attacks, mostly from non-humans, so they need to make sure the humans understand they don’t mean any harm.

So DotD happens, then the beginnings of S7 :)

Right out, Kai never liked the museum curator. Up to that point he’d only ever caught fleeting glimpse of him but something about him Kai just despised. As a result, he also visited the museum as scarcely as possible, and thus didn’t notice a very interesting painting containing a two very strange figures.

When he learns his name was Dr.Saunders.....things don’t go well.

It happened when Kai brought the helmet with his dad’s symbol on it. As much as he disliked the curator, he was the most likely to be able to recognize what kind of helmet it was.

Then in his anger he gets himself captured.

He’s taken to a special cell lined with vengestone and has guards around the clock, and Krux takes extra care to make sure Kai doesn’t know where Ray is.

ofc it’s around this time that the Merlopians arrive and express their wishes for a possible alliance between their two races. Unfortunately they showed up at literally the worst time, and double unfortunately the people in charge of diplomacy decide to bring some of the ninja in as an extra precaution because of the villains have been running around.

So the people who join the meeting are Lloyd and Jay from the ninja(they would’ve brought Kai but he hasn’t returned from his missions yet and isn’t answering their calls) as well as some police officers and from the Merlopians is the whole royal family plus a few guards.

Both Jay and Nya have a silent moment of staring at each other since “I know and I’m not sure you know but I think you know but I don’t want to say anything since you might not”

And just as they’re about to start, The Time Twins attack. Because why the hell not.

They’re actually able to hold them off for a while, but unfortunately there are too many Vermillion. Then Kalmaar whips out his Water Powers which causes him to get kidnapped since they need both Fire and Water masters for the blade.

While they’re recovering, Lloyd then gets a panicked call from Zane saying that he checked the museum footage and Kai has been captured. The gets overheard by the royal family, and then Lloyd asks why they looked so upset at which they learn(sans Jay since wish) that Kai is royalty. The eldest son actually, and thus first in line for the throne, as well as being presumed dead for the past five years.

So basically Krux has kidnapped the King and Queen’s husband, the crown prince, and the second in line prince(if anyone knows a more fancy term for this please let me know)

Maya, Trimaar, Nya and Benthomaar are not happy. Not with the Ninjagian people, no they’re fine, but they’re bout ready to murder Krux, and they don’t even know about Ray yet.

So they offer any help they can.

Zap back to how Kai and Kalmaar are doing.

Kalmaar is….kind feral tbh. Like, he’s biting, clawing, trying to strangle them with his tentacles, and before they got vengestone cuffs on him was trying very hard to drown anyone.

Ofc, this does little to the Vermillion and soon Kalmaar finds himself in the cell right next to Kai’s. He’s overjoyed to see his brother again, albeit upset that this is why.

They both reluctantly come to the conclusion that there isn’t much they can do at the moment, and there are many Vermillion guards right outside their cells, so they decide to start catching up.

And for pretty much the rest of the season canon is pretty much the same, just shuffle around the characters a bit and add a protective Fish Fam. 

Though their little trip back in time is quite sight for the Past EMs, especially because of how Kalmaar is using his powers, which leaves Kai mostly stuck in his Fish Form. This time they don’t even bother trying to explain, just give instructions on how to defeat the Vermillion and jumping into the battle. 

And I mean just imagine that from the EMs perspective. An enemy you thought you defeated just returned with a giant metal creature and an army of snake things that don’t look like any kind of Serpentine they’d ever seen. Then a shark person and squid person??? show up and not only do they know how to fight the snake things but they also seem to be Elemental Masters???? Despite the fact Ray is very much alive and they didn’t even know there was a Water EM. Then the two not only summon dragons but they also fuse their dragons into an even bigger one with two heads.

And then all of them disappear into the sky without a trace.

W i l d

But yeah, after that it calms down quite a bit. Kai spends the time skip before S8 reconnecting with his family and his dad, and through some tech courtesy of Borg they're able to bring Ray with them :D

And Kai actually goes to meet the Jade Royal Family since y’know. He’s the crown prince. He’s kinda important and legitimately forgot about it. Luckily Kalmaar is able to help coach Kai through it, but is also a bit smug about how he finally has something to teach to his older brother. Kai was actually the one who suggested asking the ninja for help protecting the mask.....but we know how that inevitably ends.

Bentho, Kal and Nya were actually on the ship for this particular adventure, and then Nya and Bentho were dragged along when they got sent to the First Realm. Bentho, despite being the youngest sibling and to the surprise of literally everyone, was actually really good with kids and spent the most time with Little Wu, right behind Cole.

But yeah S9......Nya and Bentho have a really bad time in the First Realm beause of the heat, but at least they don’t get captured. Kai on the other hand....

Yeah at some point he gets accidentally splashed with water and well.....it definitely doesn’t help with the Oni accusations. The Dragon Hunters decide to burn him along with the Wind Dragon, which moves up their Build Our Own Dragon time table.

After they escape Faith is actually pretty chill about the whole fish thing, but she does ask a lot of questions. 

And then S10..... kinda the same. They end up dropping off as many people as they can with the Merlopians since the smoke can’t reach them.

I might make a Part 3 for the rest of the seasons, but yeah. this is where we’re at.

[lovelylogans]

the warmest hello (to the coldest goodbye)

once a spy, always a spy forever, forever the warmest hello to the coldest goodbye remember, remember -spies are forever, the tin can bros

warnings: undercover spy work, mention of weapons, drugging someone into unconsciousness/giving someone a roofie, essentially the start of an enemies to lovers fanfiction

pairings: virgil/logan, offscreen roman/patton

words: 4,465

notes: this is for day 7 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “free day” and i have decided to write a combination soulmates and rival spies au! please enjoy!

⁂

Not that Virgil would admit it, but, like literally every other marked person, he's tried to imagine how he might meet his soulmate. He just didn't ever spare any thought on what he'd do if it happened on the job.

His official cover to his friends (which was mostly his cousin Roman and Roman’s husband Patton) was that he was an analyst—he was always vague about what exactly it was he analyzed, but since neither of them were particularly mathematically inclined, and both were maybe a bit too trusting for their own good, they took him at his word.

Even when he was sent off on various unusual "business trips.”

It’s not like Virgil’s mark is very specific about when and where it’ll happen. Virgil knows that variations of "sorry about that” make for a large percentage of common soulmarks. 

There’s protocols in place, of course, but Virgil had never really paid attention to those classes while training to be a spy. The Lewis clause is the kind of thing Virgil didn’t pay as much attention to, because it didn’t seem as useful as understanding the technology or how to make a cover. The Lewis clause is what to do when someone meets a soulmate on the job—there are specifications for if the soulmate is a target, a team member, or an enemy.

Virgil hadn’t really cared at the time. He’d kick himself for that later.

Any number of meetings occurred accidentally—knocking something over, bumping into someone, or, like his cousin Roman's soulmate did, take Roman's coffee thinking it was his own hot chocolate. They got married two winters ago, just so they could serve hot beverages in cold weather.

He thinks the iteration stamped in black along his left inner arm, "I'm very sorry about this," with the addition of "oh no, it's you” tacked on at the end of his makes it likely that whatever he says will, A, likely be first, B, be somewhat unique, or unique enough to be immediately recognizable, and C, be in the aftermath of some kind of accident.

He ends up being partially right. What he says is first and it is somewhat unique. What his soulmate apologizes for is no accident, though.

Virgil does undercover work, sure, but it's very rare for him to enter the James Bond style locale he's at today, and that he’s been working for the past couple months; the marble ballroom he's circling is dripping with gold chandeliers and matching heavy, velvet curtains that accent the floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s a string quartet in the corner, barely audible over the chatter of rich socialites. Virgil, deeply uncomfortable in his white-tie attire, is circling the room in an attempt at looking like he attends charity balls all the time.

He sucks at it.

As if on cue, his earpiece crackles to life.

"How the fuck did you ever qualify to be a spy?" Janus, his tech man and eye in the sky, snickers into his ear. "Your acting skills are horrendous. If you auditioned for The Room right now, they wouldn't let you into the cast.”

"Fuck off,” Virgil fake-coughs into his shoulder.

"Christ, at least try to look like you're mingling, not like you've stalked the target here."

Unable to stop himself, he glances toward the target he's meant to be watching.

The target, who is so staggeringly wealthy it could make Virgil, who is trying to pay off his student debt on a spy's salary (not as high as one might think) burst into tears. Or, much more likely, start ranting about the myriad flaws of capitalism. If so inclined, he could honestly probably steal the amount of money necessary from one of her offshore accounts, and it would be as unnoticeable as someone taking a penny from him.

Mary Lee Truman is standing amidst a flock of suited men, like a dove amidst a flock of dour crows; her dress is slinky silk, a shade of champagne that glimmers rose-gold in the right shade of light. She’s standing leaned to one side, her hip popped out and an arm crossed over her stomach, a crystal-cut champagne flute dangling in her fingers as if she was born to hold one.

Her husband, Lee Truman (fuck if that wasn’t confusing, it was really easier to think of them by their codenames) is off by the bar, seemingly getting himself another drink. 

His eyes stray to Mary Lee again; he can tell a couple of the suits are hired muscle, bodyguards, which makes sense, as the Trumans are allegedly a massive crime family, doing their dirty dealings in plain sight. A couple of the suits he recognizes from dossiers; one is a business partner of Lee’s father, who might not even know what the Truman family really gets up to; one absolutely knows what the Truman family gets up to, as Virgil’s read his rap sheet and knows he’s been in and out of jail due to his assignments from the mob.

There’s one suit there that really doesn’t seem to fit the mold of either category.

For one thing, he’s around Virgil’s age; for another, he isn’t rippling with muscle. Not that he doesn’t look fit; his well-tailored suit shows off his broad shoulders, his biceps, his lean waist. He’s dark-haired, and pale, and blue-eyed, and he’s standing next to Mary Lee with a look that Virgil would think of as dour, but now that he’s looking closely, the blue-eyed man looks almost... calculating.

This man wasn’t in the dossier.

Almost everyone at this ball was in the dossier.

Virgil looks away from Mary Lee and the handsome man, and instead decides to start taking up Janus’ advice; he slowly moves through the room.

Well. He's doing it to get closer to Mary Lee, but sure, he can attempt to mingle.

He traverses through the room, his fancy shoes clicking on the marble floor, mindful to not step on any dress hems—he has it easy, as his directive was simply to wear his white tie with his hidden weapons, his ear piece, and his lapel pin that records everything he's seeing. The women in the room provide the only splashes of color outside of the black suits and white shirts of the men, the gleaming marble, the gold- accented glasses and dishware. Even what little art he's seen follows that color theme -- white marble busts, abstract black and white paintings in their gilded frames, a gold statue outside the front steps, as if to greet the partygoers.

But the women of the party aren't beholden to this strict color scheme. Gowns of pink chiffon, red lace, blue taffeta, deep violet velvet, Virgil passes them all, keeping one eye out for rose gold silk.

He ends up instituting himself in a ring of people listening intently to an art history professor talking about the architectural significance of his building—he introduces himself with his cover name, James Walker, to the man next to him, who Virgil already knows is a Truman cousin. He gives a fake first name too—he says his name is Alex, when Virgil knows it’s really Bruce. Okay. Something to take note of.

He listens to the art history professor talk about art deco with just one ear, the other straining to eavesdrop on Mary Lee and her suits.

“Do you think our beneficiary approaches?” Mary Lee murmurs to the blue-eyed one, the one that wasn’t in the dossier.

“Oh, I know he does,” the blue-eyed man says to her. He has a pleasant British accent, the kind of voice that would be right at home on a nature documentary calmly narrating the eating habits of wolverines, or something like that. “According to all my research, our previous beneficiary is no longer within our purview. A new one will have been instilled in hasty time. As a matter of fact, I believe I would be able to point him out to you right now.”

Mary Lee sighs, a little, and the man continues talking about their charity. Virgil’s mind races. He knows the Truman’s “charity work” almost always acts as a sieve to run dirty money through, so what would it mean, that they got a new beneficiary? A new target, maybe? A new directive?

Either way, this is almost definitely some kind of code they’re talking in. He tunes a bit more into the art history professor’s impromptu lecture—he’s taking a brief tangent into talking about Tamara de Lempicka—as he ruminates on that particular conversation between the blue-eyed Brit and Mary Lee.

Then he ends up in conversation with an elderly woman beside him, who wants to know who he is—James Walker, I run a business a state or two over, I’m interested in diversifying my assets—and if he’s been to any art museums in town. Both he and the man he is meant to be have not, but it turns out she’s a curator and has numerous suggestions for him.

He also knows this woman, Ida Kelly, has been paying into the Truman business for quite some time, and has potentially ordered hits using the Truman’s muscle.

“Madam,” a suited waiter shows up at her side, as if on cue, and hands her a small glass full of what looks like a gin-and-tonic.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” she says, taking her drink immediately.

The waiter turns to him. There is a singular champagne flute on the tray. “Sir.”

“I didn’t order anything,” Virgil says stupidly, before he realizes that almost everyone here is taking champagne flutes off of trays, and he supposes this waiter just wants to clear his before he has to double back and get more. “Oh, all right.”

He takes it. It’s a delicate, crystal-cut glass. He’s almost a little afraid that if he holds it wrong, it’ll break.

“Really, we’re doing an Impressionism exhibit, and it is positively divine,” she says.

Very suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder, emanating warmth through his suit and Virgil jumps, a little—he hopes whoever it is didn’t feel one his knives. Or, God forbid, his gun.

He turns to see no one, when a hand touches his opposite arm, and he turns again. It turns out to be the blue-eyed Brit, who is staring only at Ida, brushing past him, allowing his hand to trail down Virgil’s arm, touching his hand as if to say, please stay there, I do not want to bump into you.

At such a close range, Virgil can smell his absolutely incredible cologne, see his defined jawline, the way his blue eyes gleam.

Ida brightens. “Darling!”

“Ida,” the Brit says warmly. “I visited that display myself, it was simply wonderful.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” she says, clearly drinking up the praise. Virgil looks between them, feeling even more awkward than he has all night.

“Wait a goddamned minute,” Janus murmurs in his ear, after such a long stretch of silence that it makes Virgil jump again. There’s the sound of rapid typing.

“A victory!” The man says, lifting his glass—it looks to be full of whiskey. “A toast, to your latest triumph.”

“Oh, now,” she says, but when the other surrounding suits start lifting their glasses, Virgil lifts his, as well.

“To Ida Kelly,” the Brit says. “One of the finest artistic minds to walk the earth at our time!”

Virgil takes a sip of his champagne at the same time as everyone else; another woman in a deep green gown with a shawl edged in feathers takes Ida’s arm, rhapsodizing about the Impressionism movement and the latest event that her art gallery had put on.

It takes about a minute for Virgil to notice his vision going blurry in the corners.

It takes him about ten seconds of blinking hard and rubbing his eyes, hoping to clear it, to stumble over his own two feet.

It takes five seconds for Janus’ voice to buzz to life in his earpiece, urgent, “Virgil, get out of there, get away from that man, that’s Lo—”

It takes him about two seconds after that to notice that the blue-eyed Brit is looking at him with an expression clearly lacking remorse.

It takes him about half a second to realize the finger tapping one shoulder, his hand at his hand—the same hand that had been holding his champagne flute. He hadn’t been looking at his drink. The Brit had made him turn away from his drink.

The Brit put something in his drink.

Virgil’s been made.

“Good God, man,” another suited man says, when Virgil stumbles over his own two feet, “had enough of the bubbly, have you?”

Virgil ignores him; even as his vision is growing blurrier and blurrier, his eyes are intent on the Brit, staggering towards him, and he doesn’t even really know why. He’s been made, he should be running, but—

"Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?" Virgil slurs, and his sudden lack of physical control resoundingly answers the question before the Brit can; the arms that catch him before he can full flat on his face are muscular and warm. He’s distantly aware of the crystal-cut grass slipping from his hand and shattering on the marble.

The warm, muscular arms are more pressing than that. And, for a dirty rotten criminal who has probably killed people, the man is quite handsome. His bespectacled face swims in Virgil's vision.

"'I'm very sorry about this," he says smoothly, before his eyes widen in alarm. "Oh no.”

As Virgil is on the verge of unconsciousness, he hears, "It's you."

His last three thoughts before he slips under: did he just fucking say what he thought he said, then, good God his eyes are so blue, then, fuck, I should have paid way more attention to the Lewis clause.

⁂

Virgil is aware of three things as he wakes up: one, he feels like he has a dreadful hangover. Two, he’s pretty sure he’s in a plane or train or car or something moving, which makes him feel motion sick.

Three, he’s been stripped of his earpiece and his weapons.

He blinks his eyes open slowly, squinting; it’s night time, but even the low light is making Virgil’s eyes hurt.

This is a limousine, he can tell that much off the bat; the partition is closed, the glass tinted as dark as it legally can be, the interior leather light-colored, the bar fully stocked with different sodas and crystal-cut decanters full of various liquors, which makes him wince in memory of the champagne.

He feels like shit, but when he looks over and sees the blue-eyed Brit—his soulmate—his soulmate who had fucking drugged him and was working with the mob—it makes him feel even shittier.

“Ah,” his soulmate says. He’s sitting with one ankle resting on his knee, a squat glass of whiskey in hand. He has glasses on now that he hadn’t had on before. Also, his accent is no longer British; he’s got a nice Italian lilt to his voice, now. “Good. You’re awake.”

Virgil stares at him. He doesn’t say a word.

“I’ll admit this,” he gestures between them, “rather put a cinch in my plan on how to deal with you.”

“Would you have killed me?” Virgil asks. His voice comes out a croak. “If we weren’t...”

He trails off.

The man’s eyebrow arches, before he shrugs, and rolls up his sleeve. His soulmark is in the same place as Virgil’s—stamped across his left inner arm, in the spiky handwriting Virgil only uses in his personal notes, not the more uniform one he writes reports with.

Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?!

Undeniably a matching soulmark to his.

“My parents were quite bemused by it, when it showed up,” the Brit—or American?—the blue-eyed—his soulmate says. “I suppose we have our answers now.”

“Do we?” he says. 

The man takes a sip of whiskey. Then, he says, “Your predecessor was FBI. Are you the same?”

Virgil tenses. The man rolls his eyes again.

“Please,” he murmurs. “For an organization meant to be secretive, your lot are quite obvious when you trade moles in and out. One comes in, goes out, and coincidentally someone new is knocking on the door within the week. It’s absurdly simple to pinpoint who’s reporting back to your government. So. FBI, CIA, military...?”

“Who gives a fuck,” Virgil says.

“One should know what one’s soulmate does for a living, shouldn’t they?” he says. “This is a very unique situation. I’m simply trying to find out—”

“What do you do for a living, then?” Virgil snarls. His head is pounding, his mouth is dry and it tastes dreadful, his soulmate is an asshole working for the other side, and he’s being carted off to God knows where. This day is one of the worst of his life. Why couldn’t he have had a nice little café meet-cute, like Roman had had?

The man smiles at him, not particularly kindly. “I diversify.”

Virgil pulls a face, because he knows that’s poking fun at his cover.

“What,” Virgil says, “poison people on Monday, go to Ida Kelly’s resort on Tuesday, with a fun little Friday jaunt of killing people who cross the Trumans?”

“I’ve never actually been to the museum Ida Kelly curates,” the man admits. “It was an easy way to insert myself near you, to put it in your drink. And for goodness’ sake, it wasn’t poison.”

“Roofie. Drug. Whatever.”

The man’s eyebrows pull together, in a rather petulant expression. “I designed that myself, you know.”

“Well, it’s shit,” Virgil snaps. “I feel like I have the worst hangover of my goddamn life.”

“Yes, that was part of the design,” the man says, and offers him a glass of water.

Virgil stares at him. “Seriously.”

“No trust between soulmates?” He says.

“Yeah, well. Fool me once.”

The man shrugs, putting down the glass of water into a cupholder, before digging out a sealed water bottle. Virgil takes it and places it into a cupholder near him. No fucking way he’s accepting any food or drink from this man.

His lips quirk up into a smile.

“Where are you taking me?” Virgil says, ignoring the way that smile makes his heart pound.

“That rather depends,” he admits. 

“On?”

“Well.” He says. He uncrosses his legs, planting both feet on the floor. “I’m assuming that now the man in your little earpiece—he was rather rude—is aware that you have been, what is it you say? Made?”

Virgil nods.

“Well. Now that he, and therefore your employer, knows that you are made, you won’t be poking your nose into Truman business anymore, will you?”

Virgil grits his teeth. “Not undercover.”

The man ignores that. “And I know that no matter which you work for, the Lewis clause has been adopted across every arm of that government, and as such you’ll be prohibited from any mission that might bring you into contact with me.”

God damn it. How does he know the spy lessons better than Virgil does?

And then it occurs to him: Janus knew that man. He warned Virgil to get away from him, to get away from Lo—

He rolls this information around in his head. The Lewis clause isn’t exactly a widely advertised part of being a spy; there was a whole trilogy of novels that got adapted into secret agent movies, years ago, that concerned opposing agent spies coming to face each other again and again, and the secondary soulmate agents teamed up together. Which the Lewis clause would prevent, but the public who went and read those novels or saw those movies wouldn’t know that. 

So either this man—Lo? Lo what?—either knows a lot about spies, because he’s one of those know your enemy types, or...

Or he sat down and learned about the Lewis clause the same way that Virgil did, except he actually sat down and listened. Maybe he defected, maybe he’s dirty? Or maybe Virgil’s just overthinking it.

Look. Virgil’s got a lot of questions here. Chief among which:

“Where are you taking me?”

“Away,” the man says vaguely, looking at him. “Are you gay?”

Virgil gapes at him.

“I’d be perfectly fine with a platonic soulmate, but for the sake of disclosure, I am gay.”

“For the sake of disclosure,” Virgil repeats disbelievingly, and pinches the bridge of her nose, rubbing it. God, his head hurts terribly. 

“Bisexual, or pansexual, perhaps?” He prompts. “Asexual? Or... you could be straight, I suppose.”

“Ugh,” Virgil says reflexively, then shakes himself. “I’m not—okay. Fine. Yeah, I’m gay too.”

“All right,” the man says, as if noting it. “What’s your name?”

Virgil snorts.

“What?”

“Okay, I don’t—” he gestures to the limousine around them. “Again, you just drugged me. I don’t know where you’re taking me. You probably would have killed me if I hadn’t said those words.”

The man makes a moue of distaste.

“Or had someone kill me, I don’t know,” Virgil amends. “Either way, you’re working with that family, who I’m assuming aren’t pleased at having a spy getting caught trying to work himself into your ranks, so I’d rather you not know all that much about my life, thanks.”

“It’s not like I’m asking for your,” an infinitesimal pause, as if he’s wracking his brain, trying to remember something, “social security number or anything. A name.”

Virgil stares at this man. Lo—. Lo something. Lochlan? Loyd? Or was it a codename?

“Yours first.”

The man pauses.

“You drugged me,” Virgil says.

He smiles at Virgil. “Will you hold this over my head for the rest of our lives?”

The rest of our lives. Yes, that’s meant to be the fairytale ending for soulmates, isn’t it? A nice little meeting, the swell of overdramatic violins in the background, falling into each other’s arms and forming a life together. That’s the popular answer.

More and more recently, though, people have been advocating for choice; that soulmates are not always the best person for you.

Virgil doesn’t know which camp he and this man will fall into, just now.

“Yes,” Virgil says quietly. “Yes, I think I will.” 

The man sets aside his whiskey.

“Logan.” He says at last, and his accent has changed again; it’s vague, almost indecipherable, but if Virgil had to guess he’d say Midwestern American. Virgil wonders if it’s his real one. “My name is Logan.”

Logan.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Since discovering you’re my soulmate? I haven’t lied to you at all. Not a word.”

“Except for the accent.”

Logan laughs.

“Habit, sorry. It’s a long story that perhaps the man screaming in your earpiece will be able to tell you one day.”

Virgil jolts with surprise. “You know—?”

He cuts himself off before he can say Janus’ name.

“Reputationally,” Logan says, and, as strange as it is, Virgil believes him. In this, at least.

His soulmate’s name is Logan.

“Virgil.”

Logan smiles, his blue eyes glittering. “It’s nice to meet you, Virgil.”

There’s the sound of a soft knock on the partition, and it lowers; Virgil can’t see the driver.

“Sir? We’re here.”

“Right,” Logan murmurs, shaking himself. He reaches into his jacket and withdraws an envelope, offering it for Virgil.

Virgil hesitates.

Logan rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve laced it with anything. I’m holding it with my bare hands.”

Virgil huffs, but he takes it, opening it and pulling out a thin piece of paper.

It’s a commercial flight ticket to Washington, D.C.

“Why D.C.?” Virgil says quietly.

“Most of those organizations are based there,” Logan says. “Is it too far a jump to assume that you are, as well?”

It is actually too far a jump; it’s not even remotely close, he lives in an entirely different part of the states. But. To be fully honest, he doesn’t want Logan to know the state he lives in, and therefore the state that Patton and Roman live in, until Virgil knows if he can be trusted or not.

Logan opens the limousine door from inside, revealing they’ve pulled up to the local airport.

“What, no private plane?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t trust that,” Logan says with a shrug. “The Trumans may be powerful, but you know as well as I that manipulating a flight of this nature is well outside their purview.”

Logan’s right, he absolutely wouldn’t have trusted that, but. This limo’s pretty swanky. For the time he wouldn’t have been obsessively running over every crack and seam in a private jet and interrogating the pilot, he probably would have had a pretty swell time.

Virgil swallows, looking up at Logan. “There are programs, you know? If you wanted to be a witness. Be in service to—”

Logan smiles at him in a way that’s almost pitying. “I left that life behind a long time ago.”

Virgil looks to the airport, then back at Logan.

“Will I see you again?”

Logan shrugs again, almost delicately. “Who’s to say?”

Virgil nods, once, and he says firmly, “I’ll see you later.”

Logan grins at him. “Not if I see you first.”

Virgil slips out of the limo, slams the door shut, and, with what feels like Herculean effort, manages to get into the airport without looking back to see if he can see Logan through the tinted glass.

He does exchange the ticket for another that’s an hour and a half later, though. He’s not a total idiot.

He gets through security pretty quick, and sits in one of the incredibly uncomfortable chairs, his brain pounding with his headache, the questions swirling around in his head making it even worse. Virgil puts his head in his hands.

He just met his soulmate.

His soulmate is working for a mob family.

He just met his soulmate.

His soulmate is apparently smart enough to specifically engineer a roofie.

His soulmate, though!

Janus knows his soulmate. Janus recognized his soulmate.

His soulmate knew about the fucking Lewis clause.

Was his soulmate a spy too? Was his soulmate in deep cover? Had he betrayed his organization? Was he a good person, or had the universe seen fit to hitch Virgil to someone awful?

How had Logan gotten entangled with the Trumans in the first place? Why wasn’t he in the dossier? 

Where was Logan even from? Did he like coffee? Hot chocolate? What had he studied in school? What was his favorite food? If they were normal people, would he have asked him on a date and not drugged him and dragged him off in a limo? 

Who was Logan?

Whatever the answers to his questions are, though. Virgil knows himself enough to know that he isn’t about to let this case go. Not the Trumans. Not him.

Lewis clause be damned.

[prinxlyart]

Now that i think of it. How would it be the Willumity trio with a jealousy situation before and after they confess to each other? Like, a very handsome man comes to Luz and talk to her while Amity and Willow just want to destroy him or something like that.

So I actually addressed this in one of my first Willumity posts but I only did it with Amity so I’ll go into more detail about each of them because buh da bup bup bah, I’m Lovin This

Luz:

Before they all start dating, Luz just sort of deflates whenever she sees someone else flirting with her girls. Especially when they’re flirting with each other. Because she wants to be happy for them, they’re receiving positive attention!!! Romantic attention!!!! And Luz is Too Chicken to do it herself so she just bites the inside of her cheek whenever she sees it happening and goes quiet (always a strange occurrence, everyone knows something is wrong if Luz is quiet).

Also mentioned in one of my very first willumity posts: Luz is extremely insecure about her feelings towards Willow and Amity, especially when she realizes she’s having these feelings at the same time. Their friendship was broken for so long but once they started mending it? Luz could see their chemistry coming back to life. She liked to tease Willow about it sometimes too, but she didn’t do that often. Normally she would use that to deflect Willow’s worried looks aimed at Luz.

After they all start dating? She gets a little passive aggressive, ngl. That is, until she gets Directly Aggressive. If she sees someone flirting with one of her girls, she’ll sorta subtly go to their side and wrap her arm over their shoulders and insert herself into the conversation (usually only if she can see that her girls are uncomfortable. She knows Amity and Willow are more than capable of handling themselves). If the person trying to flirt just keeps going though, Luz will go into Sniper Mode. They’re not getting the hint? She will zero in on them and deliver a devastating line to properly deter them. And if that doesn’t work, she’ll go full-throttle Feral Mode and just start yelling. If she makes a big enough scene, she knows the other person will either flee or a big enough crowd will draw to see that someone is supposedly harassing them.

Again, Willow and Amity are totally capable of handling themselves so it rarely ever comes to that. There’s been maybe one instance where Luz has gone Feral™️ on someone who just couldn’t take a hint and someone had to physically subdue her before she ripped them to shreds. At that point it isn’t even about jealousy, it’s just about basic respect and decency.

Her jealousy doesn’t creep up as jealousy, at least not usually. It mostly manifests as a deep fear of Willow and Amity somehow coming to the conclusion that they like each other more than they like Luz and will end up leaving her behind. She’s scared of losing them, so she does get clingy sometimes, but not usually in situations where she’s scared someone else is going to take them away from her.

Willow:

Similarly to Luz, she suffers in silence whenever someone flirts with Luz or Amity before they all start dating. A lot of people flirt with Luz because, I mean, why wouldn’t they? She’s smart, she’s a human learning magic, she’s faced the Emperor and lived, and that’s not even accounting for how cute and funny she is. How genuine she is. Willow hates seeing other people make Luz blush tbqh; it takes her a hot minute to figure out why it makes her so angry but when she realizes it’s because she has a crush on Luz she just sort of dies inside. Whenever she feels that rage start to build up, she has to excuse herself to go outside and rage in a secluded section of the surrounding forest; she can’t constantly cause property damage to the school by disrupting its foundation with her vines.

She especially resents the Blight twins for making Luz blush every now and then. She knows they’re just doing it in jest but that doesn’t stop that oddly jealous curl from forming in her chest. It’s different though with Amity??? She’s not sure why (at first) but Amity making Luz blush just makes Willow’s chest fluttery because she does like watching Luz blush. And for some reason, she doesn’t mind it when Amity is the cause of said blush.

After they start dating, Willow isn’t one to actually get jealous all that often. She may get concerned if someone started flirting with Luz or Amity, mostly just if she’s never seen this other person before. But she has a weird sense of peace about her girls being flirted with once they are all dating; she knows they’re all polyamorous and any love they might feel for someone outside their little group doesn’t have any effect on the love they have for each other. So unless this anonymous person is actively making her girls uncomfortable, she likely won’t step in.

Amity:

She can get almost unreasonably jealous. She’s extremely protective of these relationships she’s somehow managed to curate with two of the most important people in her life. If she sees anyone outside of their immediate friend group even look at one of her girls in a potentially suggestive way, she is immediately by their side and glaring at the person that dared to think of flirting with her girlfriend.

Of the three of them, she’s the one with the most anxiety about them being “exclusive” despite being a polyamorous triad. She’s so worried about losing her girls to literally anyone else. It takes a while for the notion to really settle in that her girlfriends won’t be swept away from her by some stud with an animal sidekick. I think maybe Luz or Willow even gets a crush on someone outside of their little triad and it sends Amity into a panic spiral she thought she’d already dealt with. She really doesn’t want to lose them.

That original post I made about Amity’s jealousy had her be the type of jealous where if she saw one of her girls being hit on and was clearly uncomfortable, she’d stomp her way over and dip her girlfriend into a searing kiss that leaves them breathless and just stares down the person that dared to make her girlfriend uncomfortable. Which I’m defo still here for. Those girls are hers, and she’s not about to let just anyone get close to them.

I think maybe for the first....year? Two years?? They’re dating? They have to sit down frequently with one another assuade fears and clarify boundaries. Being in a polyam relationship is hard work and everyone needs to be clear with their feelings and concerns. They do figure out their rhythm though and once they are secure in their relationship and feelings towards one another, if anyone ever catches even just a fleeting sensation of feelings for someone outside their little group, the other two will start teasing them relentlessly.

Also thank you for giving me that good Willumity Prompt, it feeds my soul

If anyone else has headcanon questions they’d like to send me, please direct them to my owl house sideblog @edasnest !!!! Oh and go bug @sterling-jay in the meantime because their headcanons are the poison that kills me and the salves to my emotional wounds and it’s killing me

[curiosityunsated]

In Pursuit of the Scholarly

Triggers: Racism against elves. If there’s anything else you feel should be mentioned, please let me know. No violence included.

Not beta read, cross posted on AO3. Also, I have no idea of the Sindarin here is accurate- I used a translator I found on Google. Don’t @ me.

——

Prince Kíli, second in line for the throne of Erebor, was incandescently angry.

The Council sat and watched, though most did not really listen, as the Prince railed at them and yelled counter arguments and indignity. Most of the council, save for a very select few outside of the presence of the royal family, were not swayed by the show of temper. Some, in fact, looked rather smug (though those were typically not well liked in the Lonely Mountain).

The King, the King’s Consort, the Princess Royal, Prince Fíli, and Her Ladyship Tauriel sat in tense silence as their kinsman slowly ran out of steam. Tirade ended, he stared at the Council and waited.

Kern, who had held his seat on the Council even prior to the Desolation, was barely able to swallow his smirk before he responded.

“Be that as it may, Your Highness, Khuzdul is our sacred language, and it must be... protected. It is... understandable,” it looked as though the word hurt to say, “that you would wish to share it with your wife. But I’m afraid that we cannot agree with your insistence to allow Princess Thiliriel to take Khuzdul lessons.”

The young father bristled, and for a brief moment the Council braced for another round of ire. But it wasn’t the Prince Kíli who spoke, but Prince Fíli.

“Surely you see how difficult it would be to keep Thiliriel from learning Khuzdul completely, my Lords, as she lives in a Dwarven city. Some would say restricting her education in this way was born of ill will directed at the race of her forebears.” He pointed out, politely. Kern’s eyes narrowed.

“We can’t control the opinions of the uninformed, your highness,” he allowed, “and it is understood that there has been, and will be, some unfortunate transference. But perhaps this may be managed if the Royal Family would consider limiting their use of Khuzdul while in the company of the young Princess?” His polite tone matched Fíli’s syllable for syllable.

The Royal Family, save Lady Tauriel, stiffened as one. Prince Fíli’s eyes glinted at the response.

“We are approaching the Noonday bell. Perhaps this is a matter best settled another time.” Balin tried to intervene, and another dwarf would have accepted it for the diffusion that it was. The majority of the Council was prepared to do so, had Kern not spoken.

“I believe we’ve made our decision clear, Lord Balin, but thank you for the reminder. A pleasant day, my Lords.”

And an infuriated Prince Kíli was storming out of the chamber after Kern’s final words, gently tugging Lady Tauriel with him, even before the King had officially ended the meeting.

——

It started with Prince Fíli. This, perhaps, should not have surprised the Council as it had.

The Prince had been spotted, overheard really, in a training ring with the young Princess. That itself wasn’t unusual; the heir had made it routine to ‘train’ with his niece a few times a week, and nearly all the dwarrow who frequented the upper training halls had seen the two playing rambunctiously under guise of hand to hand combat. If this time usually came just before the Princess’ bedtime, well, no one could say Prince Fíli wasn’t efficient.

As far as the Council could gather, the incident happened just before the Royals had left for the evening. The Prince had been crouched on the ground, beckoning the little one forward and playfully taunting her. She had responded in kind, rushing at her uncle and jumping at him with a battle cry that, according to multiple reports, was very cute. He had taken her momentum and propelled himself backwards, landing flat on his back. And then, he had exclaimed:

“Cin got nin! Im’m dad!”

Apparently no one had clearly heard what the little one had said, but the Prince had smiled and kissed her forehead, replying:

“Cin did eithel, lend emel.”

Of course the Prince knew multiple dialects of elvish- the entire royal family did- but only so that they could interact with Elvish representatives without fear of coercion! It was unheard of for it to be spoken so- so- familiarly within an everyday setting! Especially in a Dwarven stronghold such as Erebor! Even Lady Tauriel chose to speak mostly Westron in the presence of the mountain’s public eye. It had left the Council feeling slightly wrong-footed, but perhaps it had been a one-time occurrence. A bit of practice, perhaps, so the Prince wouldn’t get rusty.

It was not a one-time occurrence. Only days later, King Consort Baggins was overheard in the library casually reading aloud to Princess Thiliriel in Sindarin... though the book itself was Westron! The Head Librarian hadn’t even asked him to lower his voice- though as the Head Librarian was the young Ori, son of Lori, that wasn’t surprising in the least. The former Company of Thorin Oakenshield was very close, even now.

Lord Ori had even pointed out a few words and asked for the translation in his own book, an act which garnered stares of its own.

The next day, Prince Kíli and Lady Tauriel gathered stares of their own as they strolled through the market, Princess Thiliriel between them, speaking exclusively in Sindarin! In the middle of the Marketplace! At one point, one scout reported, the Prince had swung his daughter around in his arms, exclaiming something in the lyrical language he hadn’t understood. It must have been humorous, though, because both Mother and Daughter had burst into giggles.

But the final straw, really, had happened in the Council’s very chambers during a meeting. Princess Dís, during a moment between agenda topics, had turned to her brother and quite clearly addressed him in Sindarin. And the King, with no hesitation, replied in Sindarin.

The entire room went silent, and many stared. Only Prince Fíli and Lord Balin continued perusing the paperwork for the next order of business as though nothing was amiss.

“Is everything alright, My Lords?” The King asked dryly, noticing the attention.

“It is just... well, you see...” Lord Tírn stumbled as the King turned his attention to him, and Kern interrupted.

“It isn’t like you to speak Elvish when there aren’t any Elves around, Your Majesty.” He interjected, and Thorin raised an eyebrow coldly.

“And you would know me well enough to make such an observation?” The Council watched as Kern blanched and then flushed.

“We’ve been hearing quite a lot of Elvish around the Mountain these days, Your Majesty.” He didn’t answer The King’s pointed question.

“Sindarin, Lord Kern. Not ‘Elvish’. There are multiple dialects. And since my granddaughter has been forbidden from learning her Father’s sacred tongue, we have decided to use her Mother’s instead.” Princess Dís replied, and if Thorin was cold then his sister’s tone was frozen solid. The Council felt a rush of fear run down their spines.

“Yes. In fact, I’ve been considering asking Prince Legolas to visit soon- Lady Tauriel is both a working ‘dam and a mother, and I don’t want to take more of her time but there are a few grammar questions I have that Lord Bilbo can’t seem to explain.” The Prince’s tone could be described as bland, even self-musing, but the flash of steel in his eye as he glanced at Kern.

“I- I suppose it would be good for our relations with Mirkwood for the Prince to visit-“ the Councillor tried, and was interrupted.

“Perhaps we should revisit the idea of an Elvish Ambassadorship, as a permanent position in the Court.” The King stated, and Kern turned an ugly puce color.

“Elves living in Erebor!?” He erupted, evidently at the end of his rope.

“My Brother’s Wife is an Elf. I would be very careful how you finish that thought, Lord Kern.” Prince Fíli said lowly, and unsheathed a knife to spin, point down, on the table with pointed intent.

“My granddaughter is part Elf. I will not hear any protest about her kin coming to stay, Councillor. Especially if you hope to keep your seat.” Princess Dís did not need to produce a weapon to aid her threat.

“I meant no disrespect, your Highnesses. I humbly apologize.”

“It seems to me, Lord Kern,” the King began, “that you have invited disrespect with your words and your conduct. Barring my grand niece from learning her Maker’s tongue- don’t look at me like that, I know who’s voice persuaded the rest of Council against it- and now making remarks of such disgust against the lineage of an heir of the line of Durin?” King Thorin trailed off, hard stare never wavering.

Kern, who had already been thrown off kilter by the Royal Family’s seemingly overnight adoption of Sindarin, floundered under such a direct accusal.

“I- Your Majesty, never-“

“In fact,” the King continued, and the Council watched the two with bated breath, “I have been in talks with some of our oldest, most practiced curates and they all agree. The right to learn Khuzdul is a matter of religion, not of politics.”

Kern turned that fetching shade of puce again.

“So while it remains a matter of courtesy for Prince Kíli and Lady Tauriel to inform the assembled Council of their plans for Princess Thiliriel’s education, they are in no way obliged to do more than consider the Council’s opinions on this particular aspect.” The King finished, and it was Princess Dís’ turn to smirk as she, and the rest of the Council, watched the pompous windbag known as Kern to puff up, process, deflate, and stiffly nod.

“Thank you, your Majesty, for reminding the Council of the boundaries of our reach. I am... sure this will not be forgotten.” The words came as easily as blood from a rock, and Kern ground his teeth as though trying to break ore from stone as he spoke.

“Oh, and Lord Kern?” King Thorin said, already looking at the papers for the next topic, and not sparing a glance for the Council.

“Yes, your Majesty?”

“I’d like for you to tell his Highness and Lady Tauriel the good news. Directly after the Council Meeting concludes. We wouldn’t want to delay the Princess’ education any longer.”

Fíli’s smile could only be described as wolfishly sharp, and he clearly inherited it from his mother.

——

Elvish translations:

Cin got nin! Im’m dad! : you got me! I’m down!

Cin did eithel, lend emel. : You did well, sweet heart.

[delimeful]

Community Gardens

this is a donation drive commission for @htmlfroggy! based on the prompt: platonic intrulogical g/t & the song ‘community gardens’ by the scary jokes! this is my first time trying a songfic, so i hope its good!

warnings: remus and all the vaguely squicky things he says, illness, misunderstandings, small mentions of body horror

-

Full disclosure, I am a monster A creature of despair, not that that should be a cause for concern If there's one thing I've learned in all my years here It's that despair is less abundant in those who understand How to plant their hearts in community gardens

-

Logan first met his best friend because he was investigating rumors of a human lurking around the border of his forest. 

He had his doubts, of course; ever since he’d personally visited every human settlement on the perimeter of his woods, the ritual sacrifices done to ‘appease the monsters’ had quickly come to a halt, and the amount of angry humans out for vengeance had dropped concurrently. 

When he gently pushed past the boughs of the saplings marking the border, however, there was indeed a human crouched on the ground, seemingly buried up to his elbows in mud. They looked up at Logan’s approach, and the giant was prepared for a number of reactions to his presence. Swearing, screaming, slumping over in a dead faint. 

Plenty had responded to him like this in the past, and plenty more certainly would in the future. It came with being a monstrous giant.

The human offering him a slightly unhinged grin and a mud-slinging wave wasn’t one of the responses he had prepared for.

As such, his reply was uncharacteristically tentative, as though his voice would snap the human out of the peaceable trance they were in. “...Greetings. I am Logan, denizen of this forest. I’m here to inquire into what you’re doing here at the edge of the woods.” 

“Ooh, an interrogation!” The human didn’t stand, craning their neck back at a painful-looking angle to see him properly. “What if I don’t want to say, huh? Are you gonna grind me into bone meal under your heel?”

Logan blinked. The fear that normally would accompany such words was still completely absent. “No. I will not be harming you unless you move to harm those under my protection.”

The human sighed, almost disappointed. “Yeah, I didn’t take you for the type. Oh, well, guess we’re both leaving unsatisfied then.” 

Logan waited a moment longer, and then sighed lowly, before lowering himself to sit amongst his trees. The human cocked an eyebrow, looking as though another inappropriate comment was on the tip of his tongue. 

“If you don’t wish to explain yourself, then I will be supervising your excursions as the guardian of these woods,” Logan announced, sure that his cold gaze would at least give the strange human some pause. 

Of course, because they seemed to delight in proving his assumptions wrong, the human just stared for a moment before a wide, enthusiastic smile spread over his face. 

Logan sighed again, and steadfastly ignored the bright flare of curiosity the human had sparked in him. Most likely, they were simply a thrill-seeker, looking for an adventure like all the epics humans told about interacting with giants. Surely, they’d grow bored soon enough.

-

You'll be fine, you honeycomb Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? You'll be fine, oh honey pie Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so unkind?

-

“Who did it?” 

The half-growl in Remus’ voice was enough that his gaze was immediately drawn away from the Lewisia cotyledon that he had been carefully coaxing root rot from. 

His unruly human acquaintance had apparently gotten closer while he was distracted, abandoning his small plot of freshly-turned soil and haphazard seedlings. It was a break from their typical engagement, where Logan remained in the treeline and Remus remained rooted in his strange, barely-edible ‘vegetable garden’ as they talked. 

“What do you mean?” he replied once he’d processed the strange question. “Is something amiss?” 

“Is your brain made of stone?” Remus shot back sharply, and Logan’s eyebrows drew together automatically at the insult. The human barely seemed to notice, thankfully. “Of course something’s amiss, you’re bleeding out all over the place!” 

He pointed emphatically, and Logan realized what the human was so up in arms about even as he turned to look. On his left side, stretched over his ribs, a long gash was slowly trickling sap-like ichor. The wound had been mostly hidden by his left arm, but in turning to focus on a new plant, he must have accidentally displayed it to the human. “Ah. Do not be alarmed, it’s a shallow wound and will scab over shortly--”

Remus waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t insult me, I know that much from the look of it alone! What I don’t know is: Who. Did. It?” 

Logan frowned briefly. He wasn’t sure why the human wanted to know, but he certainly wasn’t in the habit of denying anyone information. “I wasn’t informed of their name. A Jorōgumo sought sanctuary, which I granted, and approximately half a day later, a human mercenary attempted to breach the forest borders.” 

“And you killed the bastard?” Remus asked expectantly. Logan couldn’t help the minute flinch that traveled through him, the way his face shuttered back to cold neutrality. He’d thought… It didn’t matter. It was his own fault for believing that the man saw him in any other way. 

“No. I warded the forest against them with a bit of their blood. Once they realize the wards are impenetrable, I believe they will move on to an easier bounty.” 

“Not if I get to them first,” Remus replied cheerily, spinning his slightly-rotted wooden trowel in his hand. Logan felt a thrum of alarm at the idea of him getting in an altercation with a mercenary, though he wasn’t sure why. If two outsiders got in a fight, it was technically out of his jurisdiction.

“You most certainly will not attempt to hinder their departure,” he said firmly. “It would be detrimental to all parties involved.” 

Remus visibly pouted, before sighing and throwing the trowel at the ground hard enough to half-bury it. “Fine, Beanstalk, but at least let me—“ 

He stepped forwards, even closer, and Logan stiffened, all-too-aware of how small the human was compared to him. “What are you doing?” 

His voice came out slightly shriller than normal, and Remus jerked to a stop instantly, glancing up at him before turning his head away, something in his expression dropping. 

“I was just… nothing. Forgot for a second,” he muttered, bringing his hand up to inspect his dirt-encrusted nails. He continued before Logan could ask what exactly he’d forgotten that had prompted such a bitter expression. “Anyways, I’m sure you’re tired of babysitting, so I’m heading back. Seeya, Colossus.” 

Logan watched as Remus whistled off-tune as he turned away,  his shoulders drawn just slightly too-tight, and felt as though he’d missed something important.

-

The culmination of man's mistakes came the day The sun ran so hot, it turned the desert to glass If there's something to be learned from all these losers It's that the price that you pay For arrogance and a false sense of immunity Is to face the wrath of a dying star

-

For the next few moon cycles, Remus barely appeared at their-- his makeshift garden, and when he did, he was simultaneously more subdued and twitchier than usual. He almost always left early.

Logan knew, logically, that he should be glad for this development. The human’s basic survival instincts had clearly finally kicked in, and he was distancing himself appropriately from a monster. It was what he’d been expecting from the beginning, and better that it had happened now rather than go on any longer, what with how… worked up he was over it. 

Ridiculous. He sighed through his nose and turned away from the cluster of bleeding Hydnellum he’d found, attempting to force his thoughts away from the human and what his reaction to such a unique-looking mushroom specimen would have been. He needed to focus on his duties as the curator of these woods. 

However, it seemed fate had other ideas, for it was only a few groves later that he was called upon by a Hamrammr, Alda, who had been wearing the form of a large wood grouse for the past few seasons. 

“I have news on your human,” she said, and her tone was urgent enough that Logan forewent reminding her that Remus was not ‘his’ human. “One of my flock saw him dragged into a town jail two days past, and he hasn’t emerged since.” 

Logan attempted to ignore his quickening heartbeat. He couldn’t jump to conclusions. “Which town?”

Alda watched him keenly for a moment. “The populous one to the northeast of our territory. Be careful, Curator. You know the laws of these woods apply to even you.” 

Logan nodded sharply, and then was moving. Once he reached the fields between his woods and the human settlement, he took a deep breath to clear his mind. Barging into the humans’ space like this would hardly be appropriate, seeing as he worked to keep them from doing the very same to him. 

Instead, he folded in on himself like a withering plant, ignoring the painful cracking of wood and bone as he took on a smaller form. A simple glamor to match, and he didn’t receive a second glance as he walked the streets as an average traveler. 

An average traveler could find someone willing to gossip easily enough. And if Remus would fear him less in a reduced form, that was just a completely unintentional bonus.

“Criminals? We don’t have many here, and none with a valuable bounty.” 

“Really? I believed I heard whispers of a recent arrest,” Logan replied, completely truthfully.  

The shopkeep waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, yes, the resident cursebearer was found guilty of conspiring with the beasts of the enchanted wood to try and bring destruction upon our humble town, but as I said, no bounty--” 

“The denizens of the woods are forbidden from attacking nearby towns,” Logan recited automatically, his mind racing. Remus was a cursebearer? The practice of directing all the magical and non-magical curses of a town onto one individual was archaic, barbaric, and… explained a lot about Remus’s behavior, actually. There was a strange pit in his stomach at the thought.

“That’s what the giant told everyone, but how are we to really trust the word of a monster? Besides, the cursebearer was witnessed haunting the edges of the woods, speaking with that very giant!” Logan kept his face carefully neutral as the shopkeep shook his head. “It’s just too suspicious. He could have struck a deal, could already be one of those beasts at this point, and he spent enough time dragging filth through our streets as it is. Good riddance, I say.” 

The shopkeep broke off as he turned away, hiding the crack in his expressionless mask. Logan barely heard the resulting questions as he walked away with sharp steps.

The next morning, the town woke to the sight of half the jail’s roof torn clean off, and one very distinctive prisoner missing. 

-

You'll be fine, you honeycomb Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? You'll be fine, oh honey pie Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so unkind?

-

Logan carefully cradled the human’s limp form in one hand, seated in their usual spot at the edge of the woods. He hadn’t expected to be so obvious in his retrieval of Remus, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, either. 

When he’d successfully infiltrated the jail, he’d been subject to an embarrassing lack of control over his magic at the sight of Remus. The human had been barely-conscious, wrists shackled to the wall of his cell and a sickly pallor to his skin. It looked as though what little he’d been fed had been expunged in fits of sickness. 

Worst of all, he’d managed to focus on Logan’s frozen form after a moment, and a haphazard expression of delight had spread across his face. “Itty bitty Logan,” he slurred feverishly, “man, did I die al’rdy? Good. Missed ya.” 

Logan’s grip on his shapeshift had snapped as though he was a youngling again, and somewhere between caving the ceiling in and rusting the cuffs away, Remus had fallen back to unconsciousness. Even now, as the sun rose, he was uncannily still, only the rasps of each shallow breath proving his life intact. 

“I’m unsure what to do,” Logan confessed, studying Remus’s frame. The human was so small without his usual exuberant gesturing. His wrists oozed where the manacles had been, human flesh scabbing over so much slower than Logan’s would have. “I cannot abide the thought of sending you back to live with people who treat you like that, but to bring you into the woods would bind you to them in a way that could not be undone. Bind you to me in a way that could not be undone. I doubt you’d want that.” 

“Are you… stupid?” 

Logan jolted at the voice, mocking but almost a whisper for how loud it was. “Remus?” 

The human was squinting up at him, and even those few words sent him into a fit of coughing. Logan hurriedly drew morning dew up from the nearest saplings and pressed the liquid to Remus’s lips. 

“Don’t waste energy,” he chided; Remus flipped him off. “I apologize for… handling you while you were unconscious, but we cannot waste time. You are seriously ill, and need treatment. Do you have anyone who can provide it? Cost is no obstacle.” 

Remus snorted audibly, and opened his mouth for a heartbeat before his face pinched in with resulting pain. He shook his head with an eye roll. Logan tried not to feel frustration at his friend’s lackadaisical attitude towards his own health, and failed.

“This is not a joke, Remus! If you don’t get immediate treatment, your only options will be making a contract with my forest, or death.” 

Remus held up a finger.

“First option,” he croaked. “Stone for brains.” 

Logan was rendered speechless for a short moment, his fingers curling up around the human. “Wh— Remus, you can’t give up on human treatment so rashly. A contract will change you. You’d be, for lack of a better term, stuck with me until you made a full recovery and paid back the debt at the very least.”

Remus hacked out something that might have been another insult to Logan’s intelligence, and he held up his pointer finger more emphatically. “First option. We’re— ‘m your friend. Not scared of you, big fucking nerd. That’s my final word… maybe liter’lly.” 

And because he was as dramatic as he was vulgar, Remus chose that moment to let his eyes roll back in his head. 

His heartbeat loud in his ears, Logan took a deep breath, pushed all of his concerns and doubts aside, and stepped into the woods. 

-

The years have been hard on this lonely heart If you wanna know the truth There's no more community gardens So I guess I'll have to settle for you

-

“I don’t get it,” Remus mentioned one afternoon, watching Logan finish the last touches of a seal for a dryad’s lightning wound. “If you didn’t know I was a cursebearer, and you didn’t even end up caring I was a cursebearer anyway, why didn’t you ever let me near you when we hung out?”

Logan pressed the seal into the tree and glanced over at him, sighing with exasperation upon seeing him picking at the turmeric leaves ringed around his healing wrists. At least he couldn’t reach the ones working to repair his lungs.

“You’ll agitate your wounds if you do that,” he chided, reaching over to lift him from the mossy, oversized log he sat on. As always, he hesitated a moment before making contact, and as always, Remus leaned up in advance to greet him, as though being carried in the palm of a giant was not only normal, but also the only form of transportation he’d ever accept. 

“Ooh, sounds fun.” Remus grinned mischievously but did indeed stop uprooting the plants embedded in his skin. He laid himself out flat on his back instead, an arm and a leg dangling over the edges of Logan’s curled hand, uncaring of the cool forest air rushing past him as Logan walked. “You still haven’t answered my question, though.”  

“I’m not sure I fully understand it. You’re asking why I didn’t physically interact with you, before, but I believe the answer is obvious.” Logan adjusted his woven sleeve cuff absently. “I simply… found your company enjoyable and didn’t wish to scare you off, I suppose.”

He waited for the typical laughter that came whenever he implied that maybe Remus should be wary around him, since he was by most human definitions, a literal giant monster. It didn’t come. 

Instead, Remus’s face was scrunched up in thought. “So… it was because you wanted to keep being friends. And not because you thought I was gross, or repellant, or better off as juicy blood mulch, or--”

“If anyone wants to mulch you, Remus,” Logan interrupted neatly, “they will have to go through me first.”

“...Not if I get to them first,” Remus responded, a slow grin building on his face. “Since we’re friends and all.” 

“That completely counteracts the point of my protection, but yes,” Logan said, a small smile of his own finding its way onto his face, “we certainly are.” 

[starrynite7114]

everything is you: one

A/N: Happy Sunday everyone! Hope you all are having a great weekend! Wanted to share this with you all as it’s a story I’ve been working on. It’s honestly taking over my life a bit, but I hope you all enjoy it! 

This may or may not be inspired by the Boyz II Men song. I love my 90s music and I heard it and then boom. And it also may have been inspired by a korean drama called ‘Fated to Love you’, at least the character of Alena. 

Should have three requests out before I update this and things you never knew! That’s the plan and I plan on sticking to that plan. Snapshots should be update soon as well!

Masterlist

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tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @ifoundmyhappythought : @carlaangel86 : @marvelmaree : @woahitslucyylu : @encounterthepast : @enamoured-x : @whyisgmora : @briana-mishell24 : @bribri-82 : @briannab1234 : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespasta : @twistnet : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @trulysuccubus : @jadert15 : @sammskellington : @cind-in-real-life : @mheart27 : @claytoncardenasbabymama : @sadeyesgf : @thickemadame : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass : @gemini0410 : @elcococruz : @samcrobae : @sesamepancakes : @iambabyharry : @blackmissfrizzle : @soamayansimaginez : @1-800-imagines : @phoenixhalliwell : @lady-pswrld : @dazzledamazon : @sesamepancakes : @getyourcrayoncas : @nich0lasmatthews : @lukealvxz : @scuzmunkie : @nakusaych9 : @danie1432 : @cocotheclown : @soaronmywings​ : @my-rosegold-soul​ : @samcrobae​

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please leave a comment below or message me! <3

Credits to the original GIF creator!

Alena groaned as she heard her phone rang for the umpteenth time. 

It was a Saturday.

She was allowed to sleep in.

Her eyes opened wide then when the day sunk in. Picking up her cell phone, she sat up and saw multiple missed calls from Angel, EZ and Felipe.

She clicked on Angel’s name, cursing under her breath. 

“Where the fuck are you?” Angel growled out.

“I’m so sorry Angel,” Alena groaned as she laid back on her bed. “I had a late night at work and I missed my alarm earlier.” She looked at the clock beside her bed and it read ‘10:35am’.

He sighed. “It’s fine, I was just worried. You didn’t even text me querida.” 

“I,” she bit her lip, internally groaning for forgetting to do such a simple task. “I thought I did. Sorry my-“

Angel cut her off. “Your co-workers took advantage of your kindness yet again and you did their work while they went out to party.” 

Alena hated how well Angel knew her. But she nodded her head meekly as if Angel could see her. 

“Cruz is looking for mama.” 

She smiled thinking of her son. Well, technically, Cruz wasn’t her son. Cruz was Angel’s son with his ex-girlfriend, Valeria. The woman didn’t want Cruz so she put him up for adoption without even telling Angel. She told him that she would rather he be in the system than have a father like him. That she wanted no reminder of him in her life. When Angel went to the orphanage to retrieve his child, they gave him a difficult time due to his criminal background along with his history with the Mayans. They told him he didn’t have enough stability to care for a child. 

Typical systemic bullshit. 

Alena had a good job, or well, a respectable job that people would see as stable. Being Angel’s friend, she offered to pose as his fiancé so that Angel could get his son. It was a fight, but eventually they were able to bring Cruz home and Alena has been taking care of Cruz with Angel ever since. On his birth certificate, it was Alena’s name that was on there along with Angel’s.

One may wonder why would Alena even adopt a child that wasn’t hers? 

Many people, including her family, have called her insane and too kind to help Angel out the way she has been doing for the last few years. They were never together and were only friends, yet, they were co-parenting.

But Angel saved her all those years ago when she was merely sixteen years old. Things would have been different if Angel wasn’t there.

Alena moved to Santo Padre with her mother when she was eleven years old. She lived in the apartment building down the street Angel’s home. She was EZ’s age, so she ended up being in the same class as him. For lack of a better term, she was EZ’s rival when it came to academics. She hardly participated in any clubs, sports or any activities, but when it came to academics, she definitely rivaled EZ. Angel always teased EZ that not even his spooky gift could beat Alena. Due to living in the same neighborhood, they always seemed to walk home together and she eventually befriended EZ then Angel. 

They weren’t her best friends, but she definitely considered them good friends. Her best friend, Carla, was EZ’s current girlfriend. Carla moved to Santo Padre at the age of fifteen and became a part of the triplet with EZ and Alena. Once EZ was out of jail, their feelings became more apparent especially since Carla stuck by EZ. Though, they couldn’t lay blame in Emily since EZ did push her away. 

She adopted Cruz four years ago and now, she was his mother and she wouldn’t do a thing to change it. Her and Angel co-parented well. Their schedule never veered from the usual, but she usually was in San Diego during the week and from time to time Cruz came with her. Mostly, he was in Santo Padre since Felipe could watch him when Angel was working. Angel insisted that she didn’t have to take care of Cruz, her helping him get his child was enough, but she grew fond of the child. 

She would do anything for Angel and now she would do anything for Cruz. They might not be blood, but he was her son.

“Shit, okay, let me just change into some clothes and I’ll head over.” Alena maneuvered out of bed. The guilt seeping in that she didn’t come home last night as she intended to do so. 

Well, she didn’t go over to Angel’s.

“Don’t bother,” her room door opened and the giggle that flooded the air made her smile.

“Mama!” Cruz greeted her, jumping on her bed. 

“Baby!” She opened her arms as Cruz jumped into them. Looking up at Angel, he leaned against the door frame and smiled at her. “I’m really sorry.” She pouted. 

Angel groaned. “Please don’t do that, you know that pout makes me powerless.” Alena laughed at his words. “I know, it’s fine, I know how you are.” Angel sighed walking over to sit at the edge of her bed. “Really wish you wouldn’t let them walk all over you.” 

“It’s not a big deal, I was staying late anyway and they didn’t anticipate it to be busy yesterday.” Alena’s eyes were focused on Cruz who was cuddled into her arms.

“That’s not the point Lenny.” Angel hated how kind she was, it was the reason she was stuck in California in the first place. She was going to Europe, Paris specifically, to become a curator for the Louvre, an opportunity that came once in a lifetime, but she stayed in Santo Padre, and was doing scut work. It upset Angel, but she wouldn’t leave, because if she did, Angel wouldn’t be able to have Cruz and she didn’t want that. It was Angel’s chance to be a father, to have a family.

“How was last night?” Alena knew how difficult it was for Cruz to sleep when he knew she was coming home.

“Awful.” Alena noticed the dark bags under Angel’s eyes. “He wouldn’t stop calling for you. And I tried calling you but your phone was off.”

“Sorry, I forgot to charge it and I just,” she kissed the top of Cruz’s head as she felt his breathing even out indicating he was asleep. “I’m really sorry Angel.”

“Stop apologizing, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Angel moved so he was sitting right beside her. “I’m going to have to either buy you another phone or those power banks.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You have to start saying no querida, you’re not getting paid enough to handle everyone’s load.”

“I just want to help.” Alena laid down with Cruz in her arms. 

Angel followed suit, resting his hand behind his head. Even though they didn’t start off tangled in one another, eventually when he woke up, he knew Alena would be wrapped around him with Cruz in between them. They had a weird dynamic, Angel could recognize that, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

“Baby, just say no next time. It was their work to do, not yours.” Angel turned and wrapped an arm around Alena and Cruz. “We’ll just take a nap then we can head over to Pops, family dinner.”

“Isn’t family dinner usually tomorrow?” 

“Two nights of family dinner, didn’t want to argue with the old man.” 

Alena laughed. “Okay, we got to stop by the pharmacy, Cruz needs a refill on his inhaler.”

“I already got it.” Angel closed his eyes. “Go to sleep, I know you’re tired, sleep in for once.”

Alena closed her eyes, kissing Cruz on the forehead one last time before her world went dark. 

=============

Later on that night, Alena was relaxing on the recliner at Felipe’s as Angel and Felipe grilled outside. She knew their relationship had been tense, however she knew they were trying to work it out. With EZ out of jail, she knew the dynamic would change. Angel always felt second best to EZ, but not to her. 

He was number one and he knew that. 

“Mama, do you have my crayons?” Cruz came up beside her, EZ following behind.

“Yes bubba, they’re in your bag remember? We packed it together.” She ruffled his hair, kissing his cheek.

“Oh yeah! I’ll go get it tio!” Cruz ran to Angel’s old bedroom where you had dropped off his things. 

EZ looked down at Alena and smiled. “Nice to see you relaxing for once.”

“Your father and brother won’t let me do anything.”

“Well you do everything for everyone else, hard not to spoil you.” EZ was still in awe that Alena took the mantle of mother for Cruz. He was always close to Alena and remained close to her while he was in jail. Besides Carla, she was the only woman in his life that he didn’t push away like he did Emily. He felt terrible for doing so, but he didn’t want to make her wait. When his father informed him that Valeria left Angel after informing him she was pregnant and that she was giving the child up for adoption, it broke EZ’s heart for his brother. He knew for a fact that Angel would be a great father. From what Felipe reported to him, Valeria was a grade A bitch. But then Felipe told him that Alena adopted Cruz to help Angel and that she was going to be Cruz’s mom.

EZ would say he was surprised, but he wasn’t. Alena had always placed Angel on some pedestal after he saved her all those years ago. He understood why she did, but he just didn’t think her gratitude would be this great. When he got out of prison and saw their dynamic, he was in awe. Cruz may like Alena a little more than Angel and it was slightly laughable. Not in a malicious way, but Alena wasn’t his biological parent, but he was so attached to her.

“Is Carla coming?”

“No, she’s working a late shift at the hospital.” EZ wished Carla was here, but he knew how short staffed it was and she had a four day break after this stretch of days. 

“Mommy, do you want to draw with me and tio?” Cruz cake running back, his bag in his hands. 

“Mommy is resting little man, we talked about this.” Angel answered for her. She looked up and found Angel walking in from the kitchen, trying to shoo Cruz and EZ away.

“No! I haven’t seen mommy and I want to play with mommy.” 

“Cruz,” Angel sternly called out his name. “Do you want mommy to get sick?”

Cruz looked up at Alena, a pout on his cute face, and shook his head. “No daddy.” Alena got sick easily and Angel tried to make sure she didn’t over exert herself. She tried to give her all to Cruz, but he knew how exhausted she was even though she didn’t complain.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. It’s just coloring Angel.” She hated seeing Cruz pout. 

“EZ take Cruz.” Angel waited till they were outside before he crouched down beside Alena. “Listen I get it, you want to do everything with Cruz and you suck at saying no, but you can’t let Cruz have everything. I’m tired of being the bad cop.” He teased her.

Alena laughed. “I play the bad cop during bed time especially when you want him to stay up with you. We take equal amounts of sternness.” And they did. They were a team and sometimes, Cruz needed a stern answer from both of them. They tried to assure Cruz’s happiness, but they didn’t want him to not have boundaries or manners when it came to certain things. Bedtime was bedtime. Playtime was playtime.

“You okay? You want something to drink?” Angel asked as he stood up. 

“No, I’m okay. Can I bake the brownies now?”

“Nope, keep that cute ass of yours on that seat.” He winked at her. “I’ll bake the brownies.”

“No, Angel you literally don’t know how to bake.” Alena countered.

“It’s just following instructions.”

“My exact point.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny.” Angel chuckled. “It’ll be fine mi dulce.”

“Hey, wait, did you submit the application for Cruz’s school?” Alena called out since Angel went inside the kitchen.

“Lenny, would you stop? I got it, remember? You literally told everyone at the club to make sure I didn’t forget the deadline.” Angel found it annoying, but Alena knew him best. Every fucking turn he made, he had one of his brothers reminding him to submit Cruz’s application. Then his pops would text him. Then EZ would bug him, it was hard to miss the deadline. At the same time, he chuckled at the thought because no one knew him like Alena did. 

“Okay, I just, maybe we shouldn’t start school. Cruz is five, maybe it’s better for him to stay home for now.” Alena bit her bottom lip, unsure if she truly wanted to enroll Cruz to school.

Angel chuckled, helping Alena up so he could sit on the armchair. He pulled her to him, letting her sit on his lap sideways. “We talked about this, it’s gonna be hard, but Cruz needs to go to school. It’ll make it so much easier for us when it comes to childcare and he can meet kids his age.” He thought how insane it was that Alena was so involved in Cruz’s life but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Cruz was Alena’s son, even though he hears how the people around town slightly mocked Alena for her choices, there were more people who supported her. He always referred to her as his partner because in all intents and purposes, she was his partner. 

“You’re right.” She sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I just, what if he gets bullied? Or he doesn’t have friends?”

“Have you met our kid? He’s too cool to not have any friends.” Angel scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, he’s going to be fine.”

“Okay, but if he comes home crying even once, heads are rolling.”

“Okay mama bear, calm down.” Angel kissed the top of her head, laughing against her head.

Felipe called the two to come out, finding Alena sleeping in Angel’s arms. He gestured for Angel to come out, which he did after waking Alena. Once Alena was awake, they both made their way outside with Cruz already seated, Angel and Alena sitting on either side of him. EZ and Felipe sat across from them. 

EZ always found it fascinating when they all ate together. If there were carrots, Angel would put the carrots in the salad on Alena’s plate, not liking carrots since he was a kid. But Cruz would then put his little carrots on Angel’s plate, thinking they were just exchanging carrots. 

“Cruz, that’s for you.” Angel placed the carrots back on his plate.

“You put your carrots on mama’s plate.”

Angel looked over at EZ and Felipe who both had an amused smile on their faces. Angel grumbled as he took some carrots back. Alena laughed at the two, shaking her head. Her boys were too much at times. 

“Alena,” Alena looked over at Felipe. “Your mother came by the other day, she said you haven’t seen her. Are you avoiding her?”

She smiled sheepishly, letting out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, she just,” she looked over at Angel who was waiting for her to answer as well. He had gotten a few teasing text messages from Michelle, questioning as to why her daughter hasn’t come to see her the last four months. “My mom has been trying to set me up on dates with her friends' sons and I just don’t want to deal with it is all.”

Angel almost choked on the carne asada he had shoved in his mouth while EZ smirked. Felipe tried to hide a smirk, his eldest obviously bothered by the possibilities.

“And has she found a rightful match for you?” EZ loved watching Angel squirm. He missed this. He never thought he would miss his obnoxious older brother and Alena, he missed her too. He missed their academic competitions and how much she pushed him. He missed cooking with her on Friday nights, the Korean cuisines she would make were amazing. But mostly, he missed just being around both of them. He wasn’t exactly incredibly shocked that Alena stepped up to the plate. Her and Angel always had a connection, ever since she was eleven years old. The younger sister they never had, well, for EZ at least she was. With Angel, the lines blurred so long ago. “I’m sure your mother at least has fifteen candidates for you.”

“Cielo, don’t leave us hanging, how many candidates does she have?” Angel’s smile was tight, which made EZ even more amused to tease his brother. 

Angel only called her cielo, sky in Spanish, whenever he was trying to tease her or when he wanted something from her. Sunshine was reserved for when he was secretly annoyed with her, which she deciphered over the years. Lenny when he was frustrated and Alena for everyday things. She liked it when he gave her a Spanish nickname cause he just sounds so good speaking Spanish. 

“Um,” Alena opened her mouth to reply when Cruz got her attention.

“Mr. Vic is calling you.” Cruz held her phone up, which he had in his hands.

Angel raised an eyebrow at his son’s words and Alena excused herself.

“Who’s Mr. Vic?” Angel asked Cruz.

Cruz looked up at his father. “Mama’s best friend. He takes care of me whenever mama has to go to work.”

Angel looked at EZ and his father, who shared the same look as him.

“Is he nice?”

Cruz nodded his head, shoving a carrot in his mouth. “He makes mama laugh.”

Angel had never heard of Vic before. Tonight was a night of revelations.

And he was not liking it one bit.

Alena sat back down, apologizing for taking the phone call.

“Who was that?” Angel questioned.

“Just a friend, he takes care of Cruz. Remember, I told you about him, Victor. He was just checking if we were still going to this museum next Saturday with Cruz.” Alena was certain she mentioned Victor to Angel before, but with so much going on, he most likely forgot. 

“The museum?” Angel knew that Alena absolutely loved art, just like him. It’s what made them bond as strongly as they did. They would borrow one another’s materials, paint together. The third bedroom at their house was an art studio because she wasn’t sleeping in that room alone, it would be confusing for Cruz. But he did remember her mentioning Victor. He wasn’t even sure why he would think Alena would bring anyone around their child without checking with him.

“Yes museum, we’ve been planning for a while. You have a run to Vegas then right?” Alena wasn’t sure why she was nervous or she felt that she had to ask permission. It was mostly for Cruz since in all technicality, he was Angel’s son. She was like a glorified babysitter. Well, she was more than that, but at times she couldn’t help and feel that. People would always ask her who’s cute kid Cruz was whenever she was in San Diego and in Santo Padre, people would always come up to her saying how they admired her for stepping up to the plate. And of course there were the ones who gave her the oddest look, like she committed a crime by helping Angel. 

It was hard to push those looks aside at times because there were so many times she wished Cruz was truly hers. But she didn’t want to dwell on that.

“I do, I just thought we would spend the day together before I left.” Angel knew he was being a dick, but he did intend on doing that.

“Oh, we can do that, not a problem.” Alena enthusiastically agreed. “I can reschedule for Sunday.” She quickly shot Victor a text before continuing to eat.

EZ looked at the victorious smile on Angel’s face. He chuckled at his brother’s reaction, shaking his head. “So how many has your mother found for you?”

“Ten.” She murmured.

“What was that?” Angel asked. He heard, but he wanted to make sure he heard correctly. 

“Mommy said ten.” Cruz answered.

Felipe and EZ laughed while Angel rolled his eyes.

“And how have you been keeping your mother at bay?” Felipe knew how pushy Michelle could be, especially with Alena since she was too kind for her own good.

“She’s been ignoring her.” EZ cackled. “Alena, your mother is going to ambush you soon.”

“No actually,” Alena looked over at Angel. “I told her I was dating someone, which I’m not. But it’s keeping her at bay. I’m almost sure she set up a dating profile for me.”

EZ laughed harder. This situation was too funny. He loved Alena’s mother. She was tough as nails, but was also the sweetest woman he’s met.

“Why doesn’t she busy herself with your brother?” Angel wiped Cruz’s cheek. 

“My brother is, well, he’s been with Mina for years. I’m technically the only one without a commitment.” Alena knew her mother meant well, but she didn’t exactly have time for dates with Cruz and Angel taking up her time. 

“You do, it’s me and Cruz.” Angel stood up. “Anyone want a drink?” Felipe raised his beer indicating he wanted another while Alena just requested for water.

“I’ll come with.” EZ stood up, following his brother in the kitchen.

The two brothers entered the kitchen, Angel grabbing a beer for himself and his father.

“Hey, if you’re not happy with Alena being set up, why not just ask her out?” EZ grabbed a beer as well.

“Ask her out? For what?” Angel gave his brother a questioning look, making his way back out, but EZ stopped him.

EZ made a face, chuckling at his brother. “Oh, we’re still in denial. Haven’t you been in denial for like seven years?”

“Drop it Ezekiel.”

“Look, I know you don’t think you’re worthy of her, but you are. Alena is playing mommy to your son, no questions asked or expecting anything in return. You’ve protected her since she was fifteen years old, kept men away from her and kept her safe. Don’t let the voices get to you Angel, you obviously like her.”

“Well, you’re wrong, I don’t.” Angel pushed pass EZ, halting his movement when his eyes landed on Alena. 

She gave them a small smile, and moved past Angel. “Sorry, I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Did you,” Angel wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t mean for Alena to hear any of that. “Did you hear any of that?”

“Any of what?” She gave him a questioning look. “You two are so weird.” She laughed, making her way to the bathroom.

But she did hear. She always knew Angel wasn’t interested in her but hearing it was definitely much more hurtful. It was okay, she knew her role in this whole situation and she was fine with that.

Anything for Cruz.

=============

Alena finished her skin routine, putting on her glasses as she walked out of the bathroom. Angel was already on the bed, Netflix ready to go. Cruz was knocked out in his room after a fun night with abuelito and tio.

She slipped in on her side of the bed, keeping her distance from Angel. The lines blurred between them time to time since Angel was very affectionate. He loved cuddling, but after what she heard, to protect her own heart, she wanted to keep a distance between them.

Angel knew Alena heard him. After she returned from the bathroom, he could tell that she was distancing herself. Her attention was solely focused on Cruz and rarely acknowledged him unless he specifically called her name. He hated it when she closed him off but would still smile at him and be very polite. He wanted her to lose it one time, but at the same time he didn’t.

They always said it was the quiet ones.

“Hey, about earlier,” Angel scratched the back of his neck, unsure of how to start.

“You don’t have to explain anything.” Alena cut him off before he could speak further. “It’s fine, we’re a good team Angel, we’re both here for Cruz.”

“It’s more than that, you’re one of the most important people to me.” And it was true, she was. He’s known her for quite some time and it was hard not to be overprotective over her. Alena always wanted to help everyone with no questions asked. She was a genuinely kind person and people walked all over her often. He tried not to, and he was successful most of the time, but sometimes, she pushed him to let her do things for him and he just didn’t want to argue with her.

She wouldn't even look his way and it upset him.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” She placed her hand on top of his, giving it a squeeze. “I don’t expect for you to have feelings for me and we’re friends. Things can get blurry at times because of the dynamic we have. You don’t have to explain anything, we’re good.”

“Alena, don’t brush this off. It’s not that I can’t have feelings for you, our situation is just complicated.” Alena was a beautiful girl, he just, he doesn’t even know what he wanted.

“Angel, don’t worry about it, we’re good.” She gave him a reassuring smile.

Angel didn’t want to push her, so he let it go and just returned her smile. “What are we watching?”

“Lucifer?”

Angel put Lucifer on, Alena situating herself against the headboard. Looking over at her, he knew their situation was highly ideal, and complicated as fuck, but he wouldn’t trade it in the world.

But things were bound to change, they always were.

[daredevilexchange]

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What’s your fannish ID? On Tumblr and Pinterest I'm DrewCas68 - boring but descriptive, made up of part of my name an year of birth. Stop laughing, you'll be as old as me one day. I curate bits and bobs that I like on Pinterest on a board called "Aww balls, Daredevil" which was kind of what I said when I realised how far gone I was on the program. On A03 I'm Meretseger68. Meretseger is an ancient Egyptian goddess known as She Who Loves Silence, the deity inhabiting the pyramid shaped rock watching over the Valley of the Kings. (Yeah, I didn't know that it wouldn't be appropriate now but I've had it for a few years and can't give up the name now).

What types of fanworks do you create? I started on A03 with a couple of little JohnLock stories, just as a bit of writing practice / a break from a novel I've been wrestling with for years. I'd been posting the odd drawing on Tumblr just on the offchance of someone liking them. I only became more active as I got drawn into Daredevil and found that Charlie Cox/Matt Murdock/Daredevil was an excellent reference as I wanted to expand my artistic range. I should say, whatever I do I am very slow. If I have four hours of paintbrush to paper it is likely that there will have been another three or four hours worrying about it before, during, or after. I'm hoping to take part in upcoming Daredevil events. This seems to be a friendly fandom, even to someone very new to it, so I hope to make something that you will like. I might even go back to writing (and maybe, finally, get that book finished).

What are your favourite types of fanworks, when you're not creating? I love all kinds of artwork, the creativity out there in fandom is amazing. I don't care whether it's someone in full Old Master mode or the genius who produces a cartoon that just sums things up in a few strokes. I've been binging on some authors on A03 while I find my feet inside the Daredevil tags. Again, there seems to be so much range and potential, something for all moods.

What about your creating process? My creative process is mostly worry and procrastination. Honestly, if I could just sit down and just do I think I would be much happier about it. Instead I can make a cat look focussed and can be distracted by anything. I create in the gaps left between part time work (6pm to midnight), working on my house (first phase nearly finished), sleep, and talking to my cat. And eating. I always forget about that. I've been living on my own for a year now and still not got the hang of that. I've had commissions for portraits of musicians and I tend to do them while listening to their music. This was great for the various David Bowie and Prince paintings that I've done but took a little getting used to when I did a Jimi Hendrix a couple of years ago (kids, ask your parents). As I started Daredevil art to force myself to try different techniques I've tended to let Amazon Music play to itself in the background but find that I have added Matthew and the Atlas to all my mixes recently when I need something calming. I absolutely cannot watch anything while I'm trying to draw/paint/write. I even have to put my phone away because I can't be trusted until I reach that point when everything starts to come together and I forget the outside.

Do you interact a lot with other fans? My experience of Tumblr up to finding Daredevil was mostly just liking and reblogging. Actual interaction has been a new thing for me. No idea if I'm doing it right but I'd like to keep trying.

Is there any particular piece you'd like to showcase for this post? I've had years of being scared of trying watercolour. I'm hoping this isn't a one off, but it makes me think that it might be worth working on technique. https://drewcas68.tumblr.com/post/645478237010591744/the-devil-made-from-blood-and-faith-thanks-to

Is there anything else you want to tell us about yourself? Yes, I am old. No, I have no idea what all the buttons do. I love the idea of trying digital art but I think I'll stick to acoustic for now.

Where can your fanworks be found? A03: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meretseger68  - currently only a few linked JohnLock shorts and an early, unfinished, version of the book that will never get finished. Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/drewcas68 - my artwork pops up between reblogs of smarter people and is tagged #myart Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/DrewCas68/aww-balls-daredevil/

Thank you, @drewcas68 !

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[ID on a white background, four black triangles that look like spotlights from above. Each illuminates one of the Defenders silhouetted in white: Jessica, Luke, Danny, Matt. A hand on the left is holding a pen writing the words Content Creator Spotlight. There is a little Punisher skull on the pen. End ID]

[script-nef]

Fluff alphabets | Tsukishima Kei

Others:  Hinata, Kageyama, Oikawa

Category: fluff

Affection: How affectionate is he? How does he show affection?

Tsukishima isn’t all that affectionate, but tries to make sure you know he loves you. 

Like helping you with studies or buying you books which you commented on before. It shows he pays attention to everything you’ve said, even in passing.

From a salty and seemingly uncaring boy, that’s one of the best things you can ask for.

Baby: Does he want to start a family?

Have you seen this guy? He’s the type to despise babies and claim they’re nothing but crying and whining migraine producers. 

If you absolutely want to have them, then he’s going to have a long talk with you. He doesn’t think he’ll be the best dad due to his personality but is willing to try if you’re absolutely adamant on the idea of kids.

Only one though. He really doesn’t think he can take more than that.

Cuddles: Does he like cuddling? How often does he like hugging?

If you ask for one, he’ll definitely hug you but not without blushing. He’s not very used to physical contact with others but slowly learns them with you.

Most of his hugs are him just towering over you and pulling you into his embrace. He’ll hug you whenever you’re feeling down or lonely, as if to say “I’m here for you.” Tsukishima may not seem like it, but he’s pretty attentive of your moods and conditions.

Date: What is a typical date?

You both love learning things, so dates are usually to informative places like museums, aquariums and art galleries. You would sometimes act as a curator and explain things in your specialty to him while he does the same.

You also go around quizzing each other on random exhibits like “what era do you think that was made?” and the person with the lower score after hours of walking around has to pay for lunch.

Experience: How much has he dated before? How does that reflect in this one?

He’s had plenty of confessions before but you’re the first one he accepted. It was a drunken confession after being friends for a year but his brain was clear enough to accept. 

He’s not experienced and that added to his default personality, he had a lot to learn. Communication is key in a relationship and he also searches up what kinds of things a boyfriend should do. 

You laughed when you found out he does that but it’s honestly very cute and adorable.

Fight: Do you fight often with him? How does it usually end?

Fights are common and incredibly messy. Lots of shouting and structured arguments from both sides because you’re both smart as hell and you gotta put those debate skills somewhere.

It ends once you both calm down and have a clear head. 

Once you got heated up and yelled so much that your vocal cords got damaged and spat out a tiny bit of blood. Which made him stop immediately and run to the kitchen to get you some warm tea and then apologised.

Gentle: How does he treat you?

Verbally? Tsukishima is scathing. No sugarcoats, this boy is salt incarnate with a tongue sharp enough to cut through Wall Maria. You, of course, are the same. In university, everyone called you two “that fighting couple” because you guys were constantly bantering.

Of course, he treats you well because he drinks his ‘respect you lover’ juice. It’s hidden under a couple of mountains of salt, but this boy cares about you the most and constantly worries about you.

Hand: Does he like holding your hand? How often?

He often holds your hand outside so that he knows you’re not wandering off. He also likes comparing his hand size to yours and teases you saying “you’re so tiny” as if he wasn’t a 190cm titan.

He also holds your hand during movies, especially scary ones, to help you calm down and not be frightened so much. It sometimes turns into a competition to see who has a stronger grip which alleviates some of the tension.

Impression: What was your first impression of him?

Absolutely terrible. This was expected with his aloof personality and sharp remarks. You took a history class together in university.

You had to work together for a project and wow, things got off to a rough start. He was having a bad day and accidentally took it out on you. Of course, you didn’t back down and spat back insults as well. So shit went sideways real quick.

Your initial impression got better as you worked together but you still bring it up to this day. It makes him feel guilty but you laugh it off and say “who would have guessed we would go out?”

Jealousy: Does he get jealous easily? What sets him off?

A lot of other people ask you out because they either don’t know you’re dating him or doesn’t believe it. He had a reputation during university for being incredibly smart but also rude. They just can’t believe you’d go out with him.

But he doesn’t get jealous because:

1. You’re not his possession and can hang out with anyone you want

2. You’re dating and love him. Other people can love you but he’s the one with you at the end of the day, so who cares.

Kiss: Is he good at kissing? When does he kiss you?

Tsukishima is not fond of deep kisses because he doesn’t find the idea of exchanging saliva that attractive. However, he’s fine with any other ones. 

He especially likes forehead and top-of-the-head kisses. It’s the easiest physically and comforts him as well.

Love: Who said “I love you” first? And when does he say it?

He said it first, half-awake. It was your weekly movie night and he was so tired from all the assignments and projects that he drifted off to sleep during the movie. It was near the end so you waited until the ending credits rolled.

Thankfully you were watching it in bed, otherwise you’d have to wake him up because you can’t carry him to bed. So you shifted him a bit to lay him down but he woke up from your movements.

He was super disorientated but the second he saw your face, he mumbled “love you…” then went straight back to sleep. He doesn’t remember it though. 

When you told him about it, he refused to acknowledge it happened.

Memory: What’s his favourite memory with you?

When he came back home to see you sing his favourite song in the living room. It was his favourite song since childhood and brings up a lot of memories.

He put it on a lot and you like it too. He knows you don’t like singing in front of other people, but the fact that you’re singing it with ease and hitting every note perfectly reminds him how much time you spent together. 

You blushed when you realised he came in but he just sat down next to you and said “keep singing, it’s good.” He smiles every time he hears it now because it reminds him of that time.

Nickname: Does he give you a nickname? Do you have one for him?

If you don’t reach his height, he calls you a midget. You could literally be 0.5, no wait, 0.1 cm shorter than him and he’d still taunt you with it while laughing. (You, shaking your fist: “This bitch…”)

In retaliation, call him beanpole or sequoia with a scowl. It doesn’t really affect him and he’ll be like “Oh, so you do know how tall I am compared to you.” But he loves it if you’re smaller than him because you fit into his embrace easily, and it feels like he’s protecting you.

(I also have this dream of calling my s/o “Tsuki” as in the moon which means “I love you”, from Natsume Souseki’s translation.)

Open: How open is he about his feelings?

Not really. He wouldn’t profess his love for you like Hinata (“Do I look like that single brain-celled volleyball maniac?”) but neither would he be completely silent on it. 

He won’t say it out of the blue, totally unprompted, but once he’s comfortable and relaxed with you, it would slip out. Mostly in the form of a whisper, just so only you can hear his words.

PDA: Is he fine with PDA? How far can he go?

He doesn’t really like it but will, reluctantly, participate if you want to. His limit is just hand-holding, though. Hugs are once-in-a-blue-moon surprises in public. 

He once had to live through the embarrassment of Hinata shrieking and gaining attention when you kissed him which ruined the entire PDA thing. His glare to the orange boy would have flayed him alive if you didn’t step in.

Quirk: Habits or something he does which is unexpected?

Is a history buff, but not one of those war ones. More like the ‘Age of the Dinosaurs’ ones. It’s obvious that he likes them but it’s to the point where he can literally recite facts about any of them. It gets more and more intense since he works at a museum now.

Whenever he finds a new fact or anecdote, he sends them to you so you can “become educated”. If you find some, text it over to him and he’ll say “thanks”.

Relax: What activities do you do with him to relax?

Baking. Strawberry shortcake, to be exact. 

You made one for him when he told you that it was his favourite but it ended horribly because he said it tasted terrible. Even though others said it was fine.

So after that, he always insists on baking with you to “keep an eye on you” and gives you constant feedback (read: instructions and naggings). But it’s worth it in the end because the product is his happy smile.

(You later find out he only said it was terrible to make an excuse to spend more time with you, but in his Tsukishima version.)

Support: How supportive is he of your dreams? What do you do for him?

He would, of course, be 100% supportive of anything you’re thriving for. But he’s different to others in the sense that he’s more grounded and realistic, so that’s the type of advice he’ll give you.

If he sees you’re getting stressed or strained over a project or anything like that, he’ll ask you if it’s really worth it and propose the idea of just leaving it. He doesn’t like seeing you push yourself so far.

You come a lot to the museum because it has a café with an amazing hot chocolate. He comes in between his breaks and has a snack while you talk to him about the displays. He helps to set up a lot of it so you always say “It looked amazing!” and it cheers him up every time.

Talk: What does he like talking about?

Tsukishima is a man of few words, but he loves talking to you. He says it’s because you’re not annoyingly ignorant (*cough* Kagehina *cough*) and he can hold an intelligent conversation.

Talks range from what you did today to societal concerns to what you learnt today. He likes seeing you become passionate about the problems you have or calmly recount all the mishaps you went through that day. You always seem to have an action-packed life.

Umbrella: What’s his favourite weather/season?

Ones of those incredibly cloudy and grey days, possibly raining slightly. He likes studying to the pitter-patter of rain on the roof of the house.

He also likes it because it means he can share an umbrella with you on the way home. He purposely bought one with a large span so you can walk home together with no shoulders getting soaked.

Vaunt: Does he like showing you off?

Nope. He never feels the need to flaunt you off to others because he doesn't see the need for it. It’s not like showing you off to others means he cares more about you or anything like that.

He feels more comfortable knowing your little habits and lifestyle to himself, because it reminds him that he knows you more than anyone else.

World: Where does he take you for vacation?

Somewhere close by, a place where he knows the geography well and also knows you’re going to like. Tsukishima doesn’t like going to foriegn places because of language barriers and mishaps which might not end well.

In the first place, he doesn’t like moving all that much so his ideal vacation will be something like a rented cabin and not backpacking around. If you want to do something physical, he would research all about it and think of every possibility which might happen.

X-ray: What happens when you’re injured or sick?

Immediate response is a snarky remark on how you should have taken care of your body. The entire time he’s nursing you, it never stops. Sometimes you snap and tell him to get out, but he never does. 

When he gets hurt, he won’t call for you, claiming that he’s fine and that it’s not life-threatening. Yamaguchi will probably text you about it along with “I didn’t say this to you! Keep it a secret!”

So you sneak into his house and make some warm porridge or chicken soup. He says he hates being coddled but in reality, he loves it.

Yearn: How much does he miss/pine for you when apart?

He does miss you, but not all that much. And won’t admit it either, he’s too much of a tsundere for that. 

Tsukishima doesn’t understand why couples cry as they have to leave to another city or country when it’s only for a short amount of time. He’s going to come back soon and he knows that your love for him and his love for you won’t disappear in that short span of time.

ZZZ: Does he have sleeping habits?

Always has to put on some type of music when falling asleep. Of course, it’s usually quiet classical or lo-fi songs and even then, the volume is turned way down. 

It basically serves as BGM while he mumbles to you about his teammates and museum works. And you reply with bits of your day as well.

For some reason, your voice works better as a lullaby than any music.