#is also surprisingly nimble for someone his age

[ariaofsasha]

Corona Rivers | OC Smash or Pass?

Quick Facts: Height: 5'2" (157.5cm) Age: [REDACTED] Gender: "Creature" Sexuality: Pansexual (as far as she's aware) Pronouns: Any/All

PROS:

Easy to tease

Always smells faintly of rolanberries

Surprisingly physically nimble, can teach you all about blitzball

Very fashionable, and loves compliments about her outfits!

A good healer in a pinch

CONS:

They're an Ascian

It takes quite a bit to get him to trust people

Will occasionally do Very Stupid Things for their friends. Like that time she climbed a mountain in one day to talk to someone. Why did she do that.

They also have a really thick accent that sometimes makes it hard to understand them

You kinda have to occasionally deal with the fact that her brother is sharing a body with her

Details!

As previously mentioned - they're technically an Ascian (for lack of a better term), but not like, an Ascian that's devoted to Zodiark or anything. They're chill.

They've been kinda hanging out on the Source for the past few years, working mainly as a "Seeker of Finds and Fortunes."

They took up Blitzball as a hobby recently - they intend to someday play for the Gridanian team, once their schedule works.

His favorite food is rolanberries, and his favorite drink is hot cocoa.

Because of assorted shenanigans, she shares a body with her brother Leonidas.

SEXUALLY still kind of figuring herself out and what she's into cause…she's never really had a good chance to settle on such thoughts!

ROMANTICALLY a bit of a tsundere - if she gets a crush on you, good luck prying that admittance out of her! she'll deny it all the time until the time's right! but once you get her to open up she's a big sweetie. loves small gifts like food and drink!

[liamthemailman]

Lieutenant Ace

Call of Duty OC Info

• General Info •

Rank: Lieutenant

Alias: Ace (Formerly known as Mad Dog)

Nationality: N/A

Age: 35 years old (as of 2023)

Gender: Masc

Birthday: 27 February

Language spoken: English

Other languages: Malay

Sexuality: Bisexual

• Appearance •

Height: 5'2 feet / 159 cm

Blood type: B Pos

Eye color: Brown

Hair color: Dark brown

• Personality •

Introverted - Ace has some trouble approaching people, and with his resting bitch face doesn't make him any more approachable either. He doesn't speak much but only because he doesn't have much to say.

Problems - Ace is practical. He sees an issue, he fixes it the quickest and most effective way he can. Ace doesn't like to spend time sitting around when there should be things to do. There's never a time on missions when nothing is happening.

Straightforward - Ace says things as he sees it. He gets the point across as fast as possible. Ace has gotten several complaints for being abrasive but he's not one to sugarcoat.

Emotional - Despite the above, Ace isn't all that much of an asshole, believe it or not. He'll take the time and effort to hear out anyone for their woes and worries, just listening to those who need it.

Down to earth - Outside of work, Ace is generally a laid back person. If actually approached, he's more than able to hold a conversation and is surprisingly really chatty.

• Bad Habits •

Bottling - Despite knowing there are trustworthy and competent people who are willing to help, Ace would rather drop dead than ask for help with generally anything. This then leads to being frustrated silently, but Ace works on it. Tries to, at least.

Anger Issues - This only applies to missions. Ace has difficulty working with people due to his tendency to snap. Be it a snarky comment or directly yelling at someone. Even when things were looking positive, and god forbid someone makes an avoidable mistake.

Mean - Being someone as quiet as Ace, he is not above being a mean bitch, his actions speak louder than any word could ever express. Gives nasty side eyes through with his eyewear but no one can see them.

• Skill set •

Weapon - Long range and/or knifes

Combat Style - Usually sticks to long range guns. Good with close combat, Ace is very nimble and agile though it comes with the downside of larger weight classes going against him.

Special Skill - Breaches through any security systems and can intercept rigs of explosives and traps that use electronic signal triggers. Ipad Kid on the field.

• Trivia Facts •

Sneaking

Ace startles just about everyone when he seemingly appears from nowhere. He swears he's not doing it on purpose, he's kind of below most people's line of sight, and it's not like he'd want to stomp around the base either.

Goggles

Unintentionally glares at people. Ace has tired looking eyes and spaces out a lot, which leads to a lot of misunderstandings. So he settles for goggles.

Hair

Has been nagged to keep the back of his hair short, and as much as he really tries, it grows back within the week. It doesn't get any longer than it usually is so they just let him keep his very short mullet.

Daisies

Ace loves daisies, and also loves to fuck with people. Ace will make daisy chain crowns and/or bracelets and gift them anonymously to people around the bases he's on. It's been driving everyone crazy. No one has caught him yet.

Dumb Shirts

Under his hoodies, jackets and gear, Ace is wearing those novelty shirts with nonsensical words. He thinks it's hilarious and it's fueled by Johnny giving him more dumb shirts to wear. Ace got caught by a rookie at 2.30am, making tea and wearing one of those shirts. No one ever believes them whenever they try to share their experience.

Favourites

Drink: Earl Grey with one cream and two sugars

Food: Oranges

Animal: Cats

Hobby: Writing short stories, feeding the stray cats on base

Song: Aces - dkj

Colour: Dull, desaturated colours

Flower: Green thumb, Ace loves all flowers

• (B)romance •

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish was the first to approach Ace after his transfer into the 141. That means he's the first to form a connection to the dark and broody shadow and discover that he just has RBF™.

They become quick friends, one was never present without the other. Like they were attached to the hip.

Word got around when a rookie saw Lieutenant Ace wearing an oversized jacket that belonged to Sergeant Soap, and said sergeant wearing one of Ace's dumb shirts. It was quickly shot down, no one believing the outlandish claim.

Ace just enjoys Johnny's company, nothing more and nothing less.. is what he claims when asked. So what if Ace only drinks the tea Johnny brings him, only he knows how to do it right. So what if Ace lets Johnny sit on his lap despite being so much larger, there's no other seats. So what if Ace and Johnny held hands under the table like a pair of juvenile lovebirds-

• Background •

Alias(es)

- Mad Dog

Former and unofficial nickname rather than actual callsign from when he first enlisted. He used to be a loudmouth that talked back to his superiors, yelling his arguments and being reckless and near uncontrollable on the field.

He was compared to that of a dog barking madly, and thus, the nickname stuck.

- Ace

He's mellowed out, somewhat, compared to his rookie days. Ace earned the name Ace from his former team for being the go-to for intelligence and gathering intel for missions, giving his team a great advantage over enemies.

Former team

Task Force Cards was a small group consisting of four. King, Queen, Jack and Ace himself. They found comfort in each other, coming from different countries and backgrounds, all of them strangers to a foreign land.

Unfortunately, the team had to be disbanded after his fellow team members went rogue on mission.

Scar

A result of a brash action Ace made while trying to reason with his rogue team. While arguing with them, Ace had stepped forward in anger to grab the collar of one of them. A physical altercation broke out.

While the slash was barely skin deep, it hurt Ace seeing them too far gone in their own heads. The wound stung as he testified against them.

Family

Ace had run away from home and enlisted shortly after. He hasn't had contact with them ever since he was 17. As much as he wanted to, Ace knows contacting them again was a pipe dream.

[respondedinkind]

Khan's (animalistic) mannerisms

Khan's alien origins, albeit him appearing incredibly human, are oftentimes the most visible in the way he behaves, subtle motions and gestures that give him a hint of an animalistic, almost primal appearance. Even though he's been mostly raised by humans, adapted to society this way, certain parts of him are just written into his genes and have never left him, even though he hasn't really been surrounded by his own kind in his life. In fact, Khan does not even remember his parents or what has happened before he'd been awoken from cryosleep as a very young boy, somewhere at the age of 2 or 3 earth years, after crash-landing onto said earth.

Yet certain behaviors and mannerisms remained; His intense gaze is one of them, the ability to not blink for minutes on end, the way he takes in the sight of whoever he's facing - oftentimes making him appear almost eery, very much fierce, which hints at what must have once been the nature of his own race.

The more subtle gestures that might not be as obvious at first glance, but very much there upon taking a closer look, include the following:

-> Flaring his nostrils. It's oftentimes accompanied by him taking a subtle breath, scenting his surroundings or whoever he's interacting with for whatever reason. Khan's senses are superior to human ones, and he relies heavily on them - not only on his improved eyesight and hearing, but on his sense of smell as well. He does such on purpose for the mentioned reasons above, but also subconsciously so, in a display of emotion; His nostrils flare when he experiences anger, devastation and fear, for example, but also other intense emotions such as surprise, bewilderment or bafflement. It also happens when he experiences feelings such as attraction or sexual arousal.

-> Fluid body movements. Khan usually moves with a certain kind of grace and almost aesthetically pleasing swiftness that's hard to describe, yet definitely more controlled than most humans move. As if every subtle gesture is carefully planned and executed, oftentimes surprisingly nimble and purposeful - he has been compared to a black panther more than just once in his past (or to felines in general), as his intense gaze certainly only adds to it.

-> Impeccable posture. While this one is not necessarily 'animalistic' or 'primal' in nature, it is very much a rather important part of him, the way he usually keeps his spine straight and head held high. It's going hand in hand with his mentioned fluid motions, and a dominant part of his overall behavior.

-> Baring his teeth. To express his anger - or to threaten whoever he is interacting with - Khan oftentimes displays his teeth. A very much primal and animalistic behavior, as quite a few animals on earth use the very same mannerism to communicate with one another.

-> Hissing. This is oftentimes combined with the teeth-baring mentioned above; Khan very much hisses, depending on how angry he is, or what message he wants to bring across. It's a sound made to threaten, to let anyone know he's going to pounce, to attack if he has to - but he also does it when he is already actively expressing his emotion (anger, hate etc) and in the middle of executing his 'attack'. That being said, there's also other 'kinds' of hisses existing he expresses whenever needed: When going through intense pain, for example, or during intense sexual arousal.

-> Khan can purr. Yes, you read that right: Khan actually purrs. It does not exactly sound like the purr of a feline, but closely so, a baritone vibration from deep within his chest, resonating in his slender throat. He does it very rarely, though, and only when he's with someone he feels incredibly comfortable - and close - with (in a romantic sense). For example, if he feels safe enough to let go of his own tension, to relax against his partner, and his partner is, perhaps, even scratching his scalp or rubbing his back, Khan might fall into that rather animalistic behavior and allows said purr to happen, displaying his content and happiness regarding the situation as a whole. He does not purr under any other circumstances.

These are just some examples, but the most important ones of those subtle gestures of his that can make it rather apparent that he behaves a bit differently to most other humans.

[mr-camhed]

Name: Maspectra

Age: 4.77 million years

Gender: none(formerly male, modified out)

Faction: Decepticon(formerly)

Assigned Forces: Decepticon military command(formerly)

Role: Strategist and analyst

Motto: "everything is connected, you just need to find The right string. "

Personality: Maspectra is a Machine of logic. Not to The level of obsession and stoicism like Shockwave, but to an obsessive compulsive and uptightness that some(many) cons would find annoying as it tries to dig into the very root of anything no matter It's a lighthearted joke, something requiring urgent decision or actually needs to dig deep. But at The same time, Maspectra can be the only one to sniff out anything ulterior behind everything, even if it might be late for it.

Alternate mode: a black full size sedan similar to The Willard Elegant in GTA San Andreas

Appearance: Maspectra is around 6 meters tall and has a transformation scheme similar to that of TFP Vehicons, and his head and chestpiece resembles that of the Super Tactical Droids of star Wars series, including The three photoreceptors, but Maspectra's head is more squared with a proper neck, and its third eye blinks as he speaks. Maspectra's robot mode has a main color scheme of black and gray with gold accent on The face and silver stripes on The body, and a damaged Decepticon badge on his left shoulder.

Weaponry: Maspectra has average strength but superior intelligence. In vehicle mode, Maspectra can achieve a top speed of 150mph, and has a surprisingly nimble handling and 500kg of cargo capacity. In robot mode, Maspectra's photoreceptors are Capable of many functions such as heat vision, X Ray vision, ballistic calculation, action predictions, etc. He can also use his third photoreceptor to project small hologram pictures and speaks using both his own voice module and pieces of voice recordings from others. Maspectra is also equipped with a repeating energy blaster pistol for self defenses.

Character Biography: Maspectra of Helex was a cold constructed that was built for accounting in governmental departments. However, he was rendered obsolete soon afterwards and was rendered unemployed. However, using his connections, he quickly joined The criminal underworld and began working for prominent crime families and corrupted Senators. However, he was captured when one of his connection named Algorithmaster was caught by his colleague which escalated into a massive sting operation led by Orion pax which ended up with him being one of The fall bots for The crime lords and Senators involved and behind the Institute Conspiracy and sent to prison where he was given a chance of reduced sentencing by getting bodily modifications which are experimental and might be dangerous, which he accepted. And by The time of The Kaon riots, Maspectra has became unrecognizable from his original Appearances. Around The same time, he has been secretly working for the burgeoning Decepticon movement, which he would join soon after and be a member of until The Nemesis' disastrous pursuit of The Ark and The subsequent Decepticon warlords' power struggle during which he finally became disillusioned of the organization.

Weakness: Maspectra's calculation is very energy consuming, and prone to overheat which can hamper his efficiency of calculation which his obsessive compulsion was unfortunately a massive factor and problem for it.

Commentary: I originally wrote this Character for someone else's story of a ship of wacky Characters going on fun adventures(yes, it was during The early days of MTMTE) and i thought it would be funnier if an extremely uptight and tense Character was roped into it more or less against its will.

[hallcyscomct]

Boys. Without opening her makeupped pout, she considers the noun. Certainly at her age, she doesn't consider whatever joy in one-night stands she can muster these days to be with boys. Though, admittedly, those men don't necessarily ignite her loins. But, she hears boys tumble from a boyish mouth and she sees a shorter, fringey, equally as toothy version of the cherubic grin before her. Yeah, no. She doesn't text boys. She certainly corrals a lot of them, though, doesn't she. Flipping through digital page after digital page to find the next center of attention whether that be on purpose or self-imposed. They are self-perceiving immortal things like this one that push the buttons of staff and crew because they can, because time and money is on their side. Frankly, Danica hardly thinks of them at all, let alone how she would text them.

"I likely am mad at them."

Also, a fair assessment. Particularly at this one, she considers, whilst she thwacks away his nearing touch wordlessly with those nimble, ruby fingertips. Another fly in the ointment.

"Oh, they exchanged the 'b' for a 'w', did they? How p.c." Someone tries to talk deep in the narrow channel of her ear; she misses her solitude, including the vacuous depths of her leading male's brain. Would it echo if she flicked it?

"Eulch." Cerulean irises are shadowed by the scrunch of lids, stamped crow's feet at the corners, at his new expression. It reads phony. Though she's in the business of producing phony, she'd like to be spared this intermediate dick-measuring contest of those who think of her as plebeian. 'I know you feel pain like the rest of us,' she wants to shout on her bad days. "The humiliating secret about you not being able to tie unless someone's naked on a bed, or the one about you on top of a gogo box in Monaco?" Something faux plucked from a surprisingly easy repartee; seemed pompously lavish enough to sound true. Despite it all, she's finding herself rather enjoying the company, certainly as compared to the static mouseyness in her ear.

"You're not going to get me on my knees, Sebastian." Bloody hell, a quirk of a smile despite herself. Tongue presses back into cheek. "You can trip over yourself, that's fine. We'll edit it out."

"You do." Quick to refute—like a bullet—it flies off his mouth, ready to hold her hostage in this pointless banter just for fun. Bad, bad little Valmont.

Alright, so maybe it wasn't necessarily that she sounded tall, as much as he'd heard so much about her being a raging bitch that he'd pictured her as ten feet tall by now—her size doesn't do her justice. Really... she was kind of cute. For a force of evil, anyway. Diabolical... mastermind producer with a button nose. Heh.

Sebastian opens his mouth to argue—he thinks; he's not too sure. His goldfish focus fizzles quickly, caught in the blue swirl of her eyes and the shape of her nose.

She does have a cute nose, he notices.

"Yeah? Well... you—sound like you end texts with a period just to make boys spiral, thinking you're mad at them." he sing-songs the words, brows arched as he puts on conscious effort not to smile. His thumb and forefinger hover over the tip of her nose as though he wants to pinch it between his fingers, but he never does.

"You have a pretty face for an 'evil witch'... soft hands too."

Wasn't she supposed to be meaner, or something?

God, he's such an incorrigible slut, he chastises himself as his eyes insist on falling where they shouldn't—as if lingering on her lips wasn't bad enough.

Maybe he could use some ear-pulling, after all.

"I'm always..." He catches his tongue on the lie—and smiles down at his feet. "I'll be nice." he promises; spoken like a child properly scolded. His tone, his expression—softened like butter. His mood morphs into something agreeable as he tries to chase off the warmth seeping into his cheeks by looking elsewhere—anywhere else.

"I don't know..." He diverts, sparing her a playful, peripheral glance. "...If I say no, will you tie them for me? Or—will you expose my humiliating secret on an international network?"

[nael-opale]

I just thought the reason why Bruno can do Parkour at 50 years old is probably because he had the worst room since he was 5...

You gotta be athletic to beat down those stairs.

[skiyoosmi]

– caramel frappucino ch. 27

marga’s notes. AHHH hello my loveliest readers; i cannot believe we have finally reached this end (well, not really the last chap ‘cause we still have two epilogue-like chaps coming up but yeah)… i hope you enjoy this part!! PLUS LISTEN TO THE SONGS CAUSE AHHHHH THE. MOOD. FITS.

♪ CHAPTER THEME ♪

on the train ride home by the paper kites | quiet eyes by axel flóvent

previous | masterlist | next

 “Do I look okay?” you asked, head turning to your cousin who was casually lounging around your room. For the umpteenth time of the day, Tetsurou released an exasperated sigh, looking away from the game he was playing on his mobile phone and glaring at you while lying on your neatly-folded bed.

“That’s what you’ve been asking for the past hour and I keep telling you yes,” he grumbled as he adjusted his body so he now laid on his stomach, continuing to scroll through his phone and at the same time, muttering some stuff about how he hopes you miss the fireworks show. Seconds later, he let out a loud yelp as he felt something hit him right on the back of his head. He scowled in your direction upon noticing the missing pink hairbrush that was previously in your hand, now on the floor.

“You brought me into this situation so don’t curse on me now. This… is your ship sailing,” you gestured to your face that was fancily styled for the night out. You only rolled your eyes when he childishly stuck his tongue out as a reply, going back to fixing whatever still needs to be fixed.

A few more minutes of doing unnecessary things passed before a knock resonated through your apartment’s front door. Tetsurou immediately jumped up from his position on your bed, giggling when he passed by your form before skipping his way downstairs to open the door for your guest.

To say that your heart was beating loud is an understatement – hell, you could almost swear it’s about to burst out of your chest from its pounding. Stop sweating, doofus! You’ll ruin your makeup, you silently screamed at yourself, feeling the dampness slowly beginning to form around your forehead and neck out of extreme anxiety.

“Y/N! Get your butt downstairs. Your date’s already here,” the teasing and boisterous voice of your cousin echoed throughout the apartment, followed by another giggle after a few seconds, probably because Sakusa replied to his rather embarassing comment. Despite not seeing the two, you felt your face flush; it wasn’t like you’re denying that it was a date… it was just unusual to hear especially when your date was someone like Sakusa.

After gathering enough nerves to face them, you took a deep breath and looked at your vanity mirror for the last time, hands smoothing down your red floral yukata for any crease that formed. Soon, you found yourself bashfully standing in front of the two tall men as Sakusa’s eyes shamelessly scanned your figure. Although he himself was wearing a simple navy yukata, you couldn’t fathom what he was thinking seeing as his face was adorned with his usual mask that was, for some reason, black this time.

“You look nice,” he nodded at your direction while you smiled, returning the compliment you have surprisingly received from him; you knew that your face was red as hell right now based on how your cousin was biting his lips to keep himself from laughing.

“Now, go! Enjoy yourselves and remember to make the wish,” he winked, pushing you both out of the door with his hands on your lower backs. You both gave him a glare that he only ignored, waving goodbye as you went on your way.

“I hope he understood what I said about making the wish though.”

“I’m sorry, he really didn’t mean to,” you profusely bowed your head at the man almost twice your age who was glowering at your companion who, in return, remained unbothered. On the ends of the said man’s feet were his spilled strawberry and milk kakigōri which Sakusa, coming from the old man’s words, knocked over when he bumped into him while walking beside the food stalls.

“Young miss, instead of apologizing when it’s not your fault, you should teach your companion how to be respectful to his elders,” he shook his head from side to side in a mocking disappointment, as if to annoy Sakusa further.

“Are you implying that I am disrespectful?” Sakusa countered, hands clenching a little bit as he tried to calm himself down. He doesn’t need a nameless man almost ruining both of your nights right now. Still, his pride didn’t let him let this one go; he couldn’t give this man the satisfaction when he clearly knows to himself that he didn’t bump into him a while ago. If anything, it was the older man who purposely bump into the two of you – probably cause you kind of looked a little too beautiful tonight.

Sure, he won’t deny that he found you pretty right from the moment he met you, one of the main reasons he decided to keep on talking to you and befriending you instead of loathing you for spilling the caramel frappucino on him. For some reason however, the way you styled yourself tonight made you even more gorgeous in his eyes, if that was still possible.

“Just drop it, ‘Omi,” you harshly whispered, fingers grabbing a fold of his yukata and tugging on it to stop him from engaging into an unnecessary fight. In addition to that, you were pretty sure the fireworks show will go off any moment now; you had to find yourselves a decent place where you can watch the much-anticipated event or else you will seriously sulk into a corner until next year’s festival.

“Apologize,” the man ordered but to no avail, Sakusa still stood his ground; even going as far as grabbing your hands with his and pulling you into the opposite direction. From behind you, you could hear a noise of protest and a ‘you little s–‘ before it was cut off. He kept on pulling you despite your arguments about how he should’ve just lowered his pride and said he’s sorry.

“Why would I say sorry when I didn’t do anything? It’s clear as a day that he’s just trying to prolong the conversation so he could take more look of you.”

“W-what…” you stuttered, not really being able to understand what he was trying to say. As if he was able to read your mind, he let out a frustrated sigh after removing his black mask.

“He had this disgusting look that screams he wants to take you out despite him being older by so much. I’m saying it’s because you look too pretty tonight,” the last sentence he told you immediately caused your face to flush a deep red; you were just so thankful it was nighttime or else you wouldn’t be able to live off the embarrassment of being so flustered from a simple compliment.

A few seconds later, it dawned upon you that he brought you to a rather secluded place by the top of the small hill where you still had a good view of what was about to come. Observing the area, you began to think Sakusa also watches the yearly event, judging by how he knew that this kind of secret place existed. People usually crowded by the bridge since it has the widest space and the clearest view which also meant that on this hill, you two were alone together.

He then took out a large piece of clothing that he laid on the ground, sitting cross-legged and patting the space next to him as he gestured for you to sit as well. Following his request, you gently sat down and looked ahead the reflection of the moon by the river.

“Are you feeling alright these days?” you only hummed in reply, too entranced by the night’s beauty. Ten minutes from now, the fireworks will make it even more beautiful.

“I’ve never pestered you about your… situation with Iwaizumi-san, but I felt like I needed to ask how you are,” he explained upon catching your eyes that were filled with wonder and curiosity due to his sudden question. Your mouth formed a small ‘o’ before giving him a small smile.

“I’m really okay, don’t worry. I just feel guilty sometimes, you know? In my mind, there are just some thoughts that pass by… things like I wish I’ve known so I didn’t hurt him that long,” you let out a quiet sigh, folding your arms over your knee and placing your chin on it. The quiet cricket of the night bugs adding more solemnity in the air as you both talked.

“Do you wish to go back to that time? And maybe be in a relationship with him?” you immediately shook your head ‘no.’

“No, no… not that kind of regret. I wouldn’t have agreed to be in a relationship either way. I was too young and too dumb; I know it won’t work out between us. I mean… I just get that feeling that we won’t.”

“Then why do you feel sad?” you mulled over his question, trying to form the right words that will truly explain how you really felt with everything that has happened.

“It’s something like… I wish I’d known so I could’ve rejected him right away? Is that cruel? I mean, maybe if I did that, we wouldn’t have gone through such pain for such a long time, get rid of the false hopes we had for each other. Hell, I don’t even remember anymore what it feels like to be really happy without thinking of such thoughts,” you sadly chuckled before shrugging and leaning back as you saw the people from faraway beginning to take their phones out, signaling that the fireworks show was almost beginning.

You felt Sakusa scoot closer to you; something you didn’t expect since you knew he never liked getting close to another person. You were sure as hell by now that all throughout the night, he was acting really weird; something different compared to his usual demeanor – not that it freaked you out though. If anything, you liked his slight clinginess too much… but you didn’t need him being weirded out so you opted to not saying anything.

“Is that your wish?” he quietly asked, making you jump out of surprise for his sudden closeness. His nimble fingers were on your chin, turning your head so you could look at his eyes that screamed a thousand feelings.

“W-what?” you breathed out, internally cursing because you didn’t even know how many times you’ve stuttered tonight.

“I’ve read somewhere that if you make a wish and… give the person beside you a kiss, it will come true so I’m asking you, is that your wish? To be truly happy,” he whispered, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. If this was any other person, you were pretty sure you would’ve slapped the wits out of him due to his statement’s ridiculousness but for some reason, you couldn’t move away from him.

“I… I think so,” you meekly nodded, gulping as he seemed to have no plan on moving at all. You think you can hear the fireworks crackling as it began to light up the sky, booming over the night sky as it tried to get your attention 

“I’ll try my best to make you happy then.”

… but the feeling of soft lips crashing into yours as soon as he said what he wanted to say was enough to leave you distracted. It wasn’t like anything you have imagined before; this – this was full of love, magic and adoration, something you have missed when you often wondered what it felt like to have a kiss. Heartbeats powering the sound of the explosions and sparks as he intertwined his fingers into yours, panting for breath when he released himself from you.

“Y-you.... kissed me... you hate germs... and I missed the fireworks,” you mumbled, feeling rather lightheaded from kissing him too long. He lightly chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning over to give you another peck.

“I think we can let those slide just this once.”

[jjk-biased]

yoongi x reader

requested by @ughtear​ ( Hi! I was just able to see your post and I was wondering if I could request prompt 3+1 (three times he proposes and the one time you say yes) with Yoongi? The idea of it makes me so soft! Also, I’m new at requesting so I don’t know what format is 🥺)

genre: fluff

words: 1.8k of cute stuff!!

synopsis: 3+1 (Three times Yoongi proposes and the one time you say yes)

masterlist | events masterlist

Kindergarten was such a hassle for young Yoongi. Coloring within the lines and connecting the dots were too exhausting and all he wanted was for nap time to come. He should be at home sleeping with his blanket in hand. Hatred for school aside, Yoongi wasn’t very social. He was a shy boy who would rather listen to some tunes even if he didn’t understand the lyrics that well. 

Well, he couldn’t exactly hate school.

There was this girl who always approached him, someone he could say was his friend. During recess, when the noisy kids stumble their way towards the outside, he could be seen sluggishly lagging behind as he talks (well, listens) to this girl in messy pigtails and pink overalls share her entire life story. 

Y/N Y/L/N.

You were a very cheerful kid who, despite the very young age, could easily detect and adapt to people’s attitudes. Unlike the ever-bratty Sohee who cried because Yoongi wasn’t giving her the compliments she wanted about her new Sailor Moon bag from mommy or the annoying Taka who demanded he play heroes with Yoongi, you knew your limits.

Whatever that meant to two toddlers. 

Yoongi liked you the most. You were a fun person to be with. You would let him nap when he wanted to and you always gave him the dog stickers from the prizes you get for being a good kid. You would give him some of your snacks (except for the juice boxes, he knew you loved those so much) and would wait for him when recess starts.

So one day, little Yoongi asked his parents what it meant to like a friend so much and what he should do about it (well of course, he messily relayed his story because he would get off track and tell them about the dog he saw). His dad wanted to poke fun and tell him something he didn’t understand anyway.

“What’s marriage?”

“Well, Yoongi, it’s when you like your friend so much that you want to be friends with them for life!” His dad replied, earning a smack on the head from his mother because that was wrong on many levels. 

“I’m gonna marriage n/n!!” Little Yoongi cheered, or rather grinned but that was already the most he could express before going back to watching his favorite show. 

The next day, without his mother knowing, Yoongi’s father told him to give you flowers if he wanted to “marriage” you. Yoongi giggled as he pocketed the little rose that his dad handed over before skipping to school. 

He liked being friends with you so much that he wanted to “marriage” you. But he wasn’t expecting the news he’d received that day. 

You had to move to Seoul with your father after your parents separated, leaving little Yoongi in Daegu with a crumpled little rose. 

The next time he saw you was in high school. Obviously, you weren’t the messy pigtails and pink overalls n/n anymore but that was the latest memory of you that Yoongi could remember. To see you, nimbly looking at your fingers as the teacher introduced you to the class as the transferee -- it overwhelmed him. A good kind of overwhelming he supposed. 

But with Yoongi being Yoongi, he didn’t want to approach you first. For all he knew, you could’ve forgotten the little Yoongi who usually wore blue shirts and loved dogs. He wanted to approach you, he really does, but with his reputation as one of the quiet basketball players of Daegu High and the possibility of you being questioned by his so-called fans, he couldn’t.

To his surprise, you approached him the same way you did when you were little. With a “Is that you Yoon?” from you and a rare gummy smile from him, the two best friends were once again joined by the hip. 

“I can’t believe Min ‘I hate moving’ Yoongi is a basketball player,” You snorted, staying close to your only friend in your high school as he goes to the gym. 

“Well I can’t believe Y/L/N ‘I’m never taking my pigtails off’ Y/N isn’t wearing pigtails anymore,” Yoongi replied, chuckling a bit at your embarrassment. 

“Sh-Shut up!” 

Your friendship was easily built again, it was stronger even. You didn’t mind the occasional “You’re my love rival but Yoongi will be mine” declarations that you got once a week (surprisingly, more than half of the female population loved the quiet, basket-ball loving types. )

They should see Yoongi in a pet store, you snickered. 

“Hey! Why are you laughing at me?! You think you’re better than me!?” 

Ah right… You forgot… Sohee, you remembered her as the girl who seemed to like Yoongi in kindergarten, was also issuing a “love war” with you for your best friend’s heart. 

“Not really, darling. I just think you’re stupid… But you didn’t hear that from me,” You cackled just as Yoongi arrived to get your ass out of there. 

That morning aside, the school had finally opened their festival. Your class prepared a cafe-like service where everyone cosplayed (you had no say in it) and you were sadly and unwillingly put in a maid costume. Perhaps it was karma for calling Sohee stupid. Yoongi got lucky and was just put in a simple prince costume.

“I don’t think this is fair,” You sighed, tugging at your skirt so it could cover more skin. Yoongi grunted, somehow also unhappy that he had to dress up as some lame ass prince. 

“Stop whining, short-stack. At least your legs are covered. Now let’s go around to check the other booths,” You huffed, dragging a reluctant Yoongi around. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that. 

Class 3-A and 3-B somehow agreed to combine their booths. It would’ve been a harmonious unification had their booths been something other than the ones they had: A marriage and a jail booth. 

The little shits changed their rules and made it into something you thought was so funny. Some idiots from 3-B would “jail” and handcuff you to some poor victim that would also get caught and from there, you had two choices: pay 5,000 won to be set free or get married for only 500won. It was genius and you would’ve made a lot of moola because you’re also a little shit. But you were one of the victims. Fuck.

So here you were now, being dragged by Taka, another someone from your childhood, to 3-A’s marriage booth for your very unfortunate fate. 

“Why is she alone, you idiot? You gotta handcuff two people for it to work,” 3-A’s president chided upon noticing you were the only one handcuffed. Luckily, Yoongi trailed along (to laugh at you or use this as blackmail, you weren’t sure). He seemed so ticked off when Taka dragged you though. 

“Well,” Taka smirked as he raised his free arm, “it can always be me.”

Horrified at his very forward advances, you cringed and silently cried for Yoongi’s help. Before you could voice out your dislike, however, Yoongi had already pulled you from Taka’s hold. 

“Marry me, Y/N.”

Your face immediately turned into different shades of red. You were too speechless to even respond to him shoving Taka away and handcuffing himself to you. Some of the people who were in 3-A’s room gasped because even they couldn’t believe that this was happening. Yoongi was nervous, it was embarrassing after all, but it wasn’t obvious in any way. You were about to give him his answer but then...

“NO!!” 

Sohee crashed the wedding before it could even start and 3-A’s president let you guys go as an apology for the commotion. 

You couldn’t forget that day… especially when you almost answered yes. 

Perhaps it was inevitable. Your friends and their mothers seem to have already known what was ahead before you two got there. But eventually, you and Yoongi got together. You already knew he wanted to pursue a music career and were more than supportive when he decided to sign under a small company named BigHit.

While together, you two worked your best to pay your rent and debts. You two ran away from Daegu after none of your parents approved of your career choices, with him and his dream to be a producer and you and your dream of arts. It was hard having to leave your comfortable life in your little hometown but having Yoongi with you helped a lot.

A few years later, your boyfriend (now changed into the rapper and producer of the idol group BTS) found out that his company loosened its strict ban on dating and he was finally able to introduce you to his friends. (though they knew Yoongi had someone in his heart, they were never able to put a face to it)

Your favorite member (shh don’t tell anyone) had to be Hoseok. He can easily lift everyone’s spirits up and he displayed so much warmth when Yoongi introduced you to the guys.

There was a reason why Hoseok was so easy to hang out with. He was the first to know that Yoongi had someone in his life and would often come to him when he wanted to talk about you (there were times he was so excited about you that he wanted to tell everyone,,, thankfully he had hobi to talk to). So it was like Hoseok already knew you before he could meet you. Because of that, Hoseok was the middleman. The person who would be the voice of reason if you two fought. You also went to Hoseok about Yoongi, especially because you still weren’t allowed to tell the world that you were with Min “BTS’ Rapper and Producer” Yoongi. 

Hoseok was also the first one to know when Yoongi had plans of proposing. He was aware of your history and would always laugh whenever you’d describe a jealous high schooler Yoongi yanking you away from some random named Taka. 

It had to be one of the most painful things for Hoseok when he was told to keep quiet of the surprise. He was bubbling with excitement that day and was mirroring Yoongi’s eagerness to finally ask you the question you’ve been denied of answering since. 

After a simple dinner out, you both decided to walk in a quiet park (it was quite late so no one was around). Yoongi inhaled, unconsciously gripping your hand quite tightly, and looked for the velvet box with his other. 

You stopped at some point to gaze at the comforting contrast of the night with the city lights but you felt Yoongi halt in his tracks so you turned around. 

There he was, one knee on the ground as he grinned that gummy smile of his that you’ll never get tired seeing, with the question you’ve been wanting to answer for your whole life. 

“Will you marry me, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

It took Yoongi three times to propose to you, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

permanent taglist: @luvinseokjinnie @97faerie @amoreguk @bbyjoonies @borednia @tanumiki @taescake

[some-serendipity-snail]

Mime, balloons, rodeo clown, flower, face paint, horn, Seltzer, tumbling

mime: what are your favorite colors?

balloons: do you like parties?

rodeo clown: do you have pets? (if so, talk about them! if not, do you want any?)

flower: what's one/some of your favorite scented products?

face paint: do you have any tattoos? (if yes, show/describe them! if no, do you want any?)

horn: what is your alarm in the morning?

seltzer: if you were a fruit flavor, what would you be?

tumbling: are you a clumsy person?

this is a relatively large post, so I'm gonna cut it to save people just scrolling lol

Cad Bane

surprisingly, this man has a lot of favorite colors. he loves warm tones the most. but his most favorite? a deep, deep wine red. sangria.

parties? absolutely not. way too many people and way too loud. unless the attention is on him, of course...

does todo count as a pet? because if so, yes he does. and no, he doesn't want any more little creatures crawling around his ship. (unless the creature is his s/o, of course.)

he doesn’t really have a favorite scent. but he does have a mint-scented candle in his ship’s bathroom. it’s never once been lit, though.

yes, he does have tattoos. or so it’s rumored...

cad bane does not need an alarm to wake up when he needs to. he wakes up at nearly the same time every morning. it is muscle memory by this point.

if this man was a flavor, i guarantee he would be lemon and kiwi. sour, but some people like that. and if you taste it long enough, it may even have some sweet undertones. <3

absolutely not. clumsiness in his field of work is detrimental.

Embo

deep, ocean blue. no real reason, he just finds the color to be calm. he likes blue eyes. if your eyes are this shade of blue, he will most certainly gaze very deeply into them.

he wouldn't go out of his way to attend parties, but if he's invited to one, he would be polite and visit for a bit. he isn't too fond of them, but enjoys being included.

of course! marrok is his most beloved companion. he isn't too loud, he's loyal, knows when embo needs him; he is easily embo's best friend. he even listens to his late night rambles when his thoughts become to much for him to bear on his own.

he really likes honey and coconut. he has a lot of coconut scented candles that he lights on special occasions.

he does have tattoos! though, i’m not sure what they would look like. any ideas?

marrok is his alarm. always wants to go to the bathroom and for a walk super early in the morning. but it’s alright, because embo is a morning person.

peach. do i have an explanation for this? no. <3

no. he was trained from a very young age to be adroit and graceful.

Bossk

he would have to think about this for quite some time. but once he makes up his mind, he will likely say that it is either brown or orange. he's indecisive.

who doesn't love a party? all the more reason to be loud and cause chaos! he's not exactly an extrovert, but he's not like embo and cad; he loves parties!

currently, he does not have a pet. but he has had a couple of hunting hounds in the past. though, his father didn't exactly allow him to care for them like they were pets. just another weapon in their arsenal for hunting. he did like them though, they were good boys.

subtle scents, anything too floral or strong just makes his head hurt. specifically he likes warm vanilla scents.

no he does not have any tattoos, but he'd like to. scales are difficult to tattoo, though. he’s not sure what kind of tattoo he would want, but he thinks he’d look cool with sleeves or a big back tattoo.

he doesn’t believe in alarms. he lets himself sleep as long as he needs. he’s partially nocturnal; and it’s not a trandoshan thing. it’s just a bossk thing.

bossk would for sure be citrus and spice.

not usually, he’s not a clumsy person. but sometimes...

Dengar

pink and purple! specifically, the pink that is verging on orange, just as the sun is setting. and royal purple, but kind of muted.

if he is invited to a party, you bet your ass he's gonna be there! even if you didn't invite him, expect him to be there. he's the life of the party, to him at least, and wants to talk to everyone there. he claims it's for "networking".

if plants count as pets, he has two. you’d have to ask him to show you, he has named them both.

dengar looooves the smell of dewy leaves and wood. it makes him feel inspired. whether that’s poetic inspiration or inspiration to cause havoc, it depends on his mood for the day.

nope, no tattoos on this guy. but he would be the most likely to get a really dumb one on a drunken whim.

he sleeps in, but he also goes to sleep early-ish. so he either wakes up at seven in the morning or two in the afternoon. there’s no in between.

dragonfruit. you can take from that what you will.

yes. yes, he is clumsy. but usually, it’s on purpose. he likes making people laugh. but he does know when he can’t be clumsy.

Sugi

green; she prefers vibrant shades like sap green over the darker sage green. however, she says that bossk's green looks like vomit.

she likes going to parties on occasion. they're like a little treat, she'll go after big jobs to celebrate. but if she knows the birthday of someone she cares about, fully expect her to go all out on it. latts will help her.

not any pets of her own, but she likes to think that marrok loves her about as much as he loves embo. close enough.

favorite scent? lavender and jasmine always calms her, and smells nice. but nothing quite like the scent of smoldering flames. she loves bonfires. maybe she’s an arsonist, but that’s a story for another day.

yep! they’re traditional iridonian zabrak tattoos.

she’s the one with a loud, obnoxious alarm clock.

if sugi were a fruit flavor, she would be warm, caramel apple.

she’s really only ever clumsy on off days. like, if she hasn’t slept much or is overly emotional.

Latts Razzi

orange!! she's super happy her hair is her favorite color, it just looks so nice with her skin and it goes great with so many outfits. blessed.

parties are okay, but she prefers higher class parties that are more like masquerades. she likes how easily she can sneak in and blend with the crowd.

she has a sizable aquarium with a bunch of beautiful, colorful fish. they all have names and she assures everyone that has seen them that the fishies have distinct personalities. they do, but it’s hard to see when you’d only known them for a few seconds.

extravagant perfumes that make her feel like the baddest bitch on the block. rose oil is also one of her favorites.

she’s never had any permanent tattoos but she loves painting her body and using body glitter. she always has a new look she wants to try out, so getting anything permanently tattooed would be something she would almost instantly regret.

her alarm clock is an elaborate, hand made carousel clock. it sings a pretty song.

mango is her fruit. sweet and juicy, full of flavor. and vibrant! who doesn’t like mango?

no, she’s nimble and moves like water.

Jango Fett

hm, he would say he doesn't have a favorite color but obviously, it's silver. just classy and he likes the way he looks in it.

it all depends on the party in question. does he know the person that invited him? is there a good reason he was invited to this party? why is there a party?  he would rather throw his own party, with people he trusts.

he has had a couple of pets, all strays he took in as a young boy. he loved them all fiercely.

his ship and his place smell like an ocean. like a beach.

yes! he has ta moko on his shoulders and back.

similar to cad; he wakes up just from muscle memory. but he also sets a standard alarm, nothing special. sometimes boba wakes up before him and pesters him awake. lovingly, of course.

this man is pomelo and you know it. maybe strawberry, too.

he’s not particularly clumsy, no.

[undergrounddweller89]

(look you don't have to like this, I'm not expecting anyone to, I just needed to write and if there's the possibility that even one person was hoping I'd write more and enjoys it then that's cool, just don't be a dick about it, it's more house mate au stuff, don't hope for continuity by that I mean it's just all over the place and nothing makes sense , just expect what ever came to my head at the time lol)

Walter was sat at his work table, fiddling with one of his new devices working on to perfect it, no I can't think of anything specific so I'll let you fill in that with your imagination.

The day had been long, his lab assistant Timothy Lawrence (Yea that Timothy if you know him because reasons) had been pretty quiet but done as told so at least that made it easier.

He was tired as the day had gone on his mood had sunk, what was he doing teasing Killian like that, honestly spanking him with the hair brush, he knew some of the things Killian had been up to.

But it was more likely a sign of marking territory or just because he had needs right and it was exciting to do things where you shouldn't.

The blade he was handling slipped and ran across the pad of his index finger, he hissed in pain, seeing the blood smear under the blue latex, pooling to drip, focusing on the red colour he hadn't even noticed Timothy running to fetch the first aid kit.

Pulling his gloves off he discarded them and popped open the box that had been set on the table.

"Thanks Timmy."

Walter smiled a little as he tended to his finger, he hated how the skin felt parting every time he flexed his finger.

Cleaning up and applying what was needed, thankful it wouldn't need stitches.

He wondered what Killian was up to, watching TV, reading maybe, did he eat, did he have enough to drink, was he in a depressive mood, was he mad that hed spanked him, he really should send a message.

Pulling his phone from his lab pocket he texted him.

'Hope you're day has been good, hope you're well, sorry if I upset you this morning.'

He shifted and rubbed a shoulder, he didn't realise how stiff his back had gone, being in charge of a division meant he'd somewhat lost track of self care making sure to do his stretches.

Timothy stood here watching his boss, lot better than the last one, this one was kind and genuine, always looking out for people, honestly Beckett made him feel safe and relaxed, he wasn't looking for anything serious but even he could see that furrowed bow and the lean that spelt hey I'm exhausted let me die.

Walking around and behind him he slowly massaged his shoulders, they were small and rather petite for someone Walter's age but it was more lean muscle and just body build, he just hadn't seen many men like Walter where he'd come from, he was rather pretty.

Walter had considered telling him to stop but when his fingers pressed into that one perfect spot in his shoulder blades he melted, ooooh that just felt so damn good and shit when was the last time he'd had contact, had someone be closer to him...he liked Killian...wondered if they could be more, but he didn't believe for one second that they could be lovers or bed fellows for one moment...not that he wouldn't be interested in finding out but Killian had been there a month, like he wasn't going to make him uncomfortable and feel like that the only way he could stay was if he dated him.

(I keep forgetting times or how many days set shrugs just don't expect like decent continuity, I write these because I need to just write things and moments)

Walter leaned forward arms folded and face buried in them

"Sorry sir, am I doing that badly?"

Timothy's enquired nervously, his hands going still.

"No, please don't stop, I literally didn't realise how stiff I was, you have good hands, I'm just so tired Timothy, I could really use it if you don't mind that is."

"Not at all sir."

Tim smiled happy to know he was helping, yes much nicer than his last boss, Walter was smart but he was also fragile, like him he loved his mother and when he'd heard Walters mother had died when he was small he wanted to scoop him up and just hug him.

A talk with Lance at one point and he'd learned that was a natural reaction for anyone with a heart around Walter who didn't have their head up their ass.

Which had practically been the last tech department Beckett had worked in, that totally wasn't cool that they'd done that to such a brilliant mind, it was so much fun working on items that didn't kill people and actually helped them!

Walter was imagining the fingers loosening the knots in his back were Killian, wondered what that would feel like with those pretty metal claws, but he never forgot it was Timothy, after all Timothy deserved more respect than that.

Looking over his shoulder at him, auburn hair flopping off to one side, Tim's hands on his waist he noticed the subtle blush.

"You wanna go grab some dinner or something in a minute there's a corner café I know, makes steak sandwiches and baked potatoes with a perfect crispy skin, a warm meal sounds pretty nice don't you think?"

Tim in the angle he was in was trying not to think about how suggestive this looked, he would absolutely lean down and kiss Walter if he thought it was an option, it really was a casual thing he felt, but Walter just looked so pretty and like he needed someone to carry him right now.

Continuing to rub his back Timothy nodded

"Yeah that sounds pretty nice actually."

---

At home Killian had found plenty to do, he'd read, watched tv, all in Walters bed of course, just to feel close to him as he could, he did wonder after handling himself, if Walter could see him as anything more than a friend, someone more than a few passing jokes between the other...turning his head and taking in his scent as he buried his face into a pillow again, looking forward to seeing those blue eyes...he should really get out of Walter's bed and get the covers washed.

Beckett brought comfort to his mind after his years of suffering, the sunrise after the storm.

He'd talked to Lovey, wondering if she could understand him, she was surprisingly responsive to his rambling as he worked on his arm, updating the tech and keeping up with maintenence.

Living here with Walter and slowly working past things with Lance and seeing he had genuinely started changes of his own, it made it easier with how Walter talked about him on the job, that he considered all options before violence and discussed the situations with him...it was good to know Beckett had helped Lance to.

He was glad to know Walter's field partner was a good one, though his lab partner, this Timothy Lawrence seemed to be pretty chummy didn't he, he'd seen a picture, thick brown hair, heterochromia eyes, blue and green to be exact and a chiseled jaw, in other words a damn pretty boy and he didn't want him around Walter.

He huffed folding his arms, yes he was jealous he was going to be pouty, before his injury he had thick black hair and had been known to be a very handsome man, now he looked like he'd been put through a grinder when he took off his holo mask and this Timothy Lawrence just had to be Walter's lab partner, he'd be around him alot and-

His phone buzzed, it'd been put on the side table and he read the text that'd come through and there was another one.

'Going out to dinner with Timothy, don't know what time I'll be back, have fun you probably need a break from me anyway lol 😂'

Killian's eye twitched, he nearly threw the damn phone, but how would he explain that, honestly he couldn't, Tristan sighed, shoulders drooping a little and answered his questions

'It's been a relaxing day, did work on the arm, Lovey' s surprisingly easy to talk to, watched a little television but perhaps you could suggest something to watch, it's rather hard deciding with all these options and no Walter you didn't upset me, though you left in a hurry, you do not need to avoid me. You're not a bother. Are you alright?'

'I'm so happy you're warming up to her! That's awesome! Also it's good you have time to relax, ten years of hectic stress you're more than overdue! I...well I was more embarrassed than anything, I reacted on instinct, last boyfriend liked that well that's probably more than you needed to know, but yeah I'll help you pick something to watch see you later!'

Last boyfriend? Spanking, Walter had, he had...Killian shifted well the blankets were starting to tent, the idea of being put over Walters petite lap and being told he was a very bad man came to mind.

He liked it.

A lot.

He looked at his phone as it pinged again.

'And god damn it, make sure you eat something for dinner, don't just go picking out the cupboard!'

Killian snickered and replied

'Yes Daddy, I'll make sure to eat something.'

After sending the text he realised what he'd written and wished he could take back that text, wincing as he managed to look at the response

'Behave, eat dinner or I'll put you over my knee young man.'

Killian stared and stared at that answer, he knew Walter was just teasing but, his cheeks were warm and he was...was he blushing.

----

"You all set to go Timothy?"

Walter smiled, his back was feeling a hundred times better after Timothy had dug into the knots, it wasn't a surprise that he was good with his hands, you had to have nimble ones to work with the tech they used here.

"Yeah, just coming boss!"

He pulled his satchel over his shoulder after pulling on his old brown leather jacket

"Please Timothy don't call me that, call me daddy."

Walter laughed at how silly that sounded

"I'm sorry, pfffft don't call me that god please, no, Walter's just fine."

Tim had paused a moment a slight fear he might have a streak like his last boss after all but that laugh was too warm and giggly and just shook his head with a smile

"Wouldn't dream of it Walter, you're more of a kitten anyway."

Timmy felt his insides tighten a little and there was that hint of Jack Dna surfacing.

"So shall we go?"

Beckett enquired looking up at him, huh he kinda looked like Killian, just a little.

"Ready when you are."

And with that they were off.

(Alright end of this ramble, Timothy has been thrown in because I needed the gasp drama of prolongation and shit and didn't have the energy to create an oc and honestly I'll mash anything from anywhere if it's convenient bleh)

[symphonic--chaos]

@khaleesiofalicante :

My wishlist:  

I am not sure what exactly this means….But if it is about fanfics then I would love to read Magnus’ perspective of Rafe being adopted.

Also listed here on AO3

Without further ado:

It wasn’t that Magnus never wanted to be a father, it was that he’d gone so long without being one (he hoped, at least, that if he was one, someone would have said something), on top of the fact that both Asmodeus and his stepfather had been far from nominees for the Father of the Year award. Magnus didn’t know how to be a father, not to children at least. His grown children of the Underworld were something entirely different, they were stupid at times, careless, wreckless, but they still had sense. A sense of right, a sense of wrong, the guilt that followed when they did that wrong- it was easier to handle a mess that an adult made when you knew how to handle an adult.

Despite this, children were a light in his life. Pure, sweet, defenseless and so very inquisitive of the world, with such a huge opportunity to be taught such wonderful things, to see and be the good in the world. Max had come along during a time that made a relaxed, infinitely honeymoon-like life, chaotic, when he thought neither he nor Alec were ready to be fathers. They hadn’t even discussed it- but here they were, surrounded by the Lightwood family in an attic, Magnus being asked questions that made him doubt his previous thoughts of Robert being intelligent. Max was a little blue horned, chubby cheeked, grabby-handed baby who was given the chance to learn what true love was when Magnus finally, seemingly, caved to the will of the Lightwood’s wishes to adopt him into the family.

In reality, the decision came in one single night that week when he’d held him in his arms at 2am, his own golden cat eyes staring into the Mariana Trench blue ocean of the baby’s. A pang of some deep love he’d never known before had exploded in his chest when Max’s little lips had curled up in the slightest smile, his cooing of amusement filling their little area, barely masking Alec’s soft and steady breathing from the bed. Chubby fingers had wrapped around Magnus’s loose, dark locks of hair as Magnus hunched over, bare feet sliding effortlessly on the wooden floor as his thighs came closer to his chest, bringing the little one resting on them closer.

Two years of loving and basing his world around both Alec and Max had transcended him into someone he never would have imagined being. While he thought he couldn’t be more selfless or loving than what he’d given countless others, Max had made Magnus a whole new man. Max had brought about a new part to a world that had already been shaken to the core just by meeting Alec, one that had been cracked and split bit by bit from the agony of losing people he loved, by betrayal and hardship. Max was the kintsugi Magnus’s world had needed, Alec the vice to hold them together while everything was mended. Then, one night, there was him. Max was finally asleep after eight stories and a lullaby Magnus remembered from his youth in his homeland. Magnus had taken the utmost care to make sure the door shut without a single creak, groan or click, a relieved sigh heaved from the warlock’s chest as his hands released the door and handle. They lifted to run through the wild black and blonde streaked hair that he hadn’t bothered to style today, it could be just as ratty and homely looking as Alec’s sweatpants, which he wore under the robe he wore. They tightened the sash that held the robe shut as he turned away from the door, coffee and Alec the first things in mind, that is until he noticed the little boy in front of him. “Uhm… Hello?” Magnus said unsurely, his eyes flitting to the front door across the apartment, still slightly open from where he was assuming this small being came from. The boy stared up at Magnus, watching him through wide and excited eyes, eyes that seemed like they knew him already.

Magnus exhaled quietly as his fingers adjusted the robe once more, taking in all the tiny details of this… Beautiful child. A browner skin tone, definitely from somewhere with a lot of sun. A way he carried himself, with such a sense of pride and strength for such a little figure, Magnus had no doubt this was a Shadowhunter child. The fact that he’d gotten through Magnus’s wards and silently at that…  Maybe… “¿Hola?” Magnus said then, shifting to kneel in front of the boy, his long fingers moving to brush dark curls away. The boy didn’t flinch or shy away, Magnus noted, instead almost seeming to lean into the touch. The smile that came after the adjusted greeting had a soft ‘Ah. Alexander’ come in response, since he could only imagine that his love was back and he’d clearly been busy in the almost two days he’d been gone. “¿Cómo te llamás?” Magnus followed up with a soft smile, offering a hand in both greeting and a chance to hold if the boy wanted. “Rafael.” The boy said as his little nimble fingers reached out to rest in the long outstretched hand, a sudden shyness coming over the boys demeanor. Magnus’s heart stopped in his chest and a sharp breath was taken in at the name, feeling that involuntary prick of tears at the back of his eyes as the thought of Raphael came to mind. That sarcastic tone of voice, the rebellious nature, the way that he would always glare and swear but have the eternal looks of a 15 year old boy. Over 50 years Magnus had come to get used to it, accept it, come to see Raphael in some sort of way as a son to him, only to go through the agony of watching him die at Sebastian’s hand. He had tried to play off that moment so stoic, he’d selfishly only had Alec and his own life in mind. To this day he regretted nothing more than his last words essentially being ‘You owe me’. Five years may have been time for a person to cope at least somewhat over the loss of someone they loved, but to Magnus, seeing this boy, one with the same name- it brought back that sting. It took a moment of recovery, longer than Magnus would have cared to admit, the drop of smile and look of worry on the boys face had him shaking away the image of Raphael’s body slumped on the floor, locking those feelings, weak and all he could muster in the withering state he had been in the cell in Edom, far away into the vault he hid most things in his mind. A smile, albeit partially forced, graced Magnus’s face as he nodded and squeezed the boys hand gently, continuing their conversation in Spanish. “My name is Magnus, Rafael, and it is a pleasure to meet you. I once knew someone very strong and very brave by that name. I bet you are, too. Do you have a nickname you prefer, or shall we just go with Rafael?” Rafe, as the young one then requested, was a relief- certainly a way to bring down some of that pain every time he now thought of the name. “Well, Rafe, it’s late and you look like you’ve had a big day. What do you say we make up a room for you and you get a good night of sleep? We can even make medialunas in the morning if you’d like.” Though Magnus didn’t know of the ordeal the boy went through, the look of relief on his said that his assumption in having a long day was more than correct. Magnus’s long legs and torso had him dwarfing Rafe once he stood, yet his fingers never left their position wrapped securely around the smaller set equally clung to them. That pang he’d felt with Max was back, much faster than he’d experienced with his sweet little sapphire when they’d first met. Magnus wasn’t sure if this was due to being used to fatherhood now or if it was just something about the boy’s quick love of him, but he knew that this boy belonged in their home and his heart. A quick wave of his free hand towards a wall of the living room had a door forming from top to bottom, swinging open to an empty room to greet them. It was plain, boring by all means, but it was meant as a template for the boy at his side. Magnus wanted Rafe to be able to decorate it however he wanted, whatever way reminded him of home and made him feel like he was there, comfortable and safe. Crouching at Rafe’s level and waving his hand to the room, his voice echoed despite how quiet he spoke as his offer came to the amazed boy, who perhaps hadn’t seen a warlock at work before. “Rafe, I want you to think of home. Whatever you think, we’ll make this room and it will be all yours. Can you do that for me?” The boy looked considerate for a long moment before he nodded and looked to Magnus expectantly, waiting further instruction on how to describe it. Magnus of course didn’t expect what looked like a five year old boy to fully describe a room like the designers on mundane television shows, ones that went into minimal or boring homes and redid them to be extravagant and rich. “Close your eyes,” Magnus whispered, waiting for Rafe to do so before he placed a warm palm on Rafe’s forehead, his magic swirling around his hand and lacing in and out between his fingers.

“Got it!” Magnus flung his hand out as if he’d picked up a hot coal. The magic multiplied, spreading out throughout the room and traveling along the floor, walls and ceiling as Rafe’s eyes opened, widening in surprise and awe. The floors went from a dull grey to a rich, almost honey colored wooden floor, the walls from grey to a very plain and simple white. Surprisingly to Magnus, there was no windows in the room, though it looked like his magic was struggling to create one. Perhaps Rafael hadn’t decided on what he wanted it to look like, which was an easy enough fix. It was rather simplistic for a child his age, he almost would have expected it to be kidlike, with toys and bright colors.

What caught him off guard though, Rafael looking equally as inquisitive, was the cross on the wall above the bed that his own influence had conjured up in the room, along with the dressers and nightstand. “That is likely my fault, everything was always extremely religious when I lived in Latin countries.” Magnus reasoned with a shrug, glancing down to Rafe who nodded in understanding. When the air around them changed, at least to Magnus, signalling that Alexander had come into the apartment and was close to them, he was quick to smile at Rafe, saying in both Spanish and English as he snapped the cross away, “Let’s put away the cross for now, and talk about organized religion later. Let’s have a window, and let the light in. Do you like this one?” They had allowed the kids to stay up late that night due to the excitement and joy that their little family growing brought, and it wasn’t until Magnus looked down from his position laying on the couch that he realized that this night would be one he would never forget.

His fingers brushed gently through the jet black hair of his Alec, fast asleep with his head resting on Magnus’s stomach and his body along the rest of the couch. Max was also asleep, content and draped across Alec’s back as he drooled into the dark fabric of his daddy’s shirt. Rafe was tucked close, comfortably nested into the crook of Magnus’s protective arm with his head on the warlock’s chest, his body safe between Alec and the back of the couch. It was then the quick realization of how used to fatherhood he’d become thanks to the trial and error of raising Max the past two years making him confident enough that they would do just fine with Rafe in addition. “Welcome to the family, darling boy.” Magnus whispered as he pressed a kiss to the top of Rafe’s head, his cheek leaning against it next as tired eyes finally drooped and he succumbed to sleep.

[chicagocityfclanspromoblog]

Ebony Anderson → Nafessa Williams  → Hunter

→ Basic Information

Age: 31

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Birthday: July 23rd

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Religion: Catholic

Like Ebony? Consider taking her in our Hunter Giveaway Event! We will be waiving applications para samples, personalities and histories requirements for all canon hunters. Just send in the first and last name of the hunter(s) you would like to the main.

→ Her Personality (one to two paragraphs)

→ Her Personal Facts

Occupation: Tracker and Dealer

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Vibrant Colors and ‘Me’ Time

Two Dislikes: Coconut and Muttering

Two Fears: Semi Truck Accident and Disappointing her Parents

Two Hobbies: Attending Fashion Weeks and Researching

Three Positive Traits: Outgoing, Persuasive, Flexible

Three Negative Traits: Frivolous, Instigative, Selfish

→ Her Connections

Parent Names:

Grant Anderson  (Father): Ebony has always been daddy’s little girl and has had Grant wrapped around her finger since birth. He taught her everything she knows and made sure she trained only with the best. Ebony knows Grant will make a great leader but is also unsure if taking the mantle at 53 years old is wise or beneficial for their family.

Candace Anderson (Mother): Ebony’s mother is loving and smothering. Candace’s family believed in breeding for the best possible hunter outcomes. Ebony does not blame her mother for running and finds her story encouraging; especially about meeting her dad. This also made Ebony life hell with a clingy and opinionated mother. Candace has been lighting the fire under her to get married and have kids.

Sibling Names:

Imani Colt nee Anderson (Sister): Ebony and Imani have a common sisterly bond. They have each others backs and get along well but are also constantly fighting about stupid things and pissing each other off. Ebony encouraged Imani to start dating Blaine and has always been supportive of their relationship.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Chris Shaw (Dated): Ebony dated Chris for 3 months for information about Isaac and Sol for her cousin Nia. Chris thought she was human and that she was too busy to continue their relationship. Chris was boring but very easy to pull information from, while he didn’t right out tell her what was going on, Ebony could easily piece together his subtext and hints.  

Tristan Lawton (Ex-Boyfriend): Tristan was surprisingly easy to get close to but Ebony was unable to make it last as long as she would have liked to. The witches and warlock supernatural community is tightly knitted and Tristan called her out for being a hunter on their second date. He seemed cool about it and asked to keep seeing her which Ebony indulged in for a few months pulling away. They have continued to see each other off and on for the past 6 years.

Carter Bialar (Ex-Boyfriend): Ebony went after Carter after Alice Colt was attacked by someone from the Cat Pack. Grant wanted info and they only had a last name to go off of. She tracked down his son and pumped him for as much info as she could. He ghosted her after she met one of his friends and she thinks they may have figured her out.

Riley Anderson (Flirted): Ebony inadvertently got Riley’s information from Carter. Riley was his college buddy that Ebony found out was a bear shifter. She shared the information with Alexus and Grant but was told to hang back while Alexus worked with the senior members of their pack. Riley was unknown to them since he never frequented the Fields Hotel. Ebony still flirted with him and faked interest in purchasing a house. They attended a few parties together and hung out but Ebony had to call it quits when he wanted to introduce her to his friends, including Carter who she had recently broken things off with on bad terms.

Audo Wilhelm (Ex-Boyfriend): Audo was one of Ebony’s first targets. Grant wanted her to get an inside look at Shutter House Exports & Import and Audo was supposed to be her ticket in. He was literally the only magic user they knew that took some type of transportation to work instead of using magic. Ebony was sure she was ready but she quickly caught genuine feelings for Audo. It wasn’t love but she cared about him and his well being. Ebony quickly got what information she could and called things off.  

Platonic Connections:

Nia Anderson (Cousin): She couldn’t stand Nia while they were younger, believing she got everything she wanted for a quarter of the work that Ebony and Imani did. They’ve become closer in their 30s and Ebony has come to realize that Nia doesn’t really seem to want to be head of the Andersons. That realization has taken a lot of the animosity away, and Ebony can have fun with Nia.

Trevon Anderson (Cousin): Ebony likes Trevon and thinks he’s making his own path. He seems to have really taken to Grant and Blaine, and Ebony thinks it’s made him a better hunter.

Marquis Anderson (Cousin): Ebony doesn’t really know what’s going on with Marquis. He always seems to be lurking in the shadows, or on his way out. She hasn’t been hunting with him in ages, but apparently he holds his own.

Raven Jenkins (Cousin): Ebony likes Raven. She gets her independence and thinks it should be encouraged. She’s loyal to the family and a good hunter, so there shouldn’t be any problems.

Tirra Jenkins (Aunt): Ebony can’t stand her aunts. Tirra is off in her own world thinking she matters more than the rest of them. The best thing she did was have Raven.

Amy Colt (Good Friend): Imani and Blaine introduced Ebony and Amy to each other when they first started to date. They bonded over being their families dealers and hunting. They’ve recently started to share contacts. Their personalities matched enough to hang out away from their families and hunting in general.

Rebecca Stone (Friend): Rebecca pulled Ebony aside at Lilly’s House with inquiries about a leather jacket she was wearing, Ebony took it upon herself to order multiple genuine leather jackets for Rebecca; Ebony heard Rebecca was a leather jacket enthusiast. They’ve remained in contact and have become friends.

Samir Khoury (Acquaintance): Ebony orders ingredients from Samir and Judsoin for the Anderson’s batch of hunters Ancestral Elixir. To keep supernaturals from finding out what exact ingredients they use, Ebony orders 100 different ingredients a week but for the entire month only one or two of them would be what she actually needs. Since ingredients are rare, it’s hard to find other hunters who are willing to share their sources or supplies. Samir doesn’t ask questions and thinks she is a human beautician and naturalist.

Judson Cleirigh (Acquaintance): Ebony orders ingredients from Samir and Judsoin for the Anderson’s batch of hunters Ancestral Elixir. To keep supernaturals from finding out what exact ingredients they use, Ebony orders 100 different ingredients a week but for the entire month only one of them would be what she needs. Ebony thinks Judson may be suspicious of her but he has yet to say anything or acted out in any way to confirm it. He has randomly started to add care tips for growing her own ingredients at home but none of them have been any of the key ingredients she needs. She thinks he’s just being nice and helpful.

Sirius Cobic (Mutual Agreement): The human shifters seem to be the neutral party in Chicago and they own the police. Ebony can’t tell for sure if every person in the police department is a human shifter or if it’s a mixture but it is clear that Sirius is the ring leader. Sirius randomly approached her one day with a proposition that Ebony couldn’t refuse. He was willing to hand off untouchables and other supernaturals that go unpunished by their packs to the Andersons.  

Douglas Gish (Mutual Agreement): Douglas is another known human shifter that approached Ebony nearly a year after Sirius did but around the same time as Sarah. The human shifter police officers were willing to hand off human cases that weren’t handled properly or didn’t have enough evidence to prosecute. They are willing to turn a blind eye to their activities as long as they aren’t messy. Malik seems to be the only one that still gets speeding or parking tickets.

Sarah Harris (Mutual Agreement): Sarah has approached Ebony and Elle Colt about hunting human criminals. Jackals have no use to hunters besides information; the same can be said for rats and nimbles. The Anderson’s family hunt for hire for the local Jackal Pack and in return the jackal government workers look in the opposite direction when it comes to zoning, public records, licensing, code enforcement, power and light bills, etc.

Blaine Colt (Brother-In-Law): Ebony encouraged Imani to start dating Blaine and has always been supportive of their relationship. Ebony likes Blaine’s way of hunting and looks forward to working more with him in the future.

Fiona ‘Fi’ Marz (Friendly): During a really bad tornado, Ebony took an anonymous order for animal shifter and human shifter blood. Her contact turned out to be a vampire. They continued to deal like this for bad thunderstorms and tornadoes. After Imani joined the Colt family, Ebony shared another dealer, Amy Colt’s information with Fi to lessen her load.

Hostile Connections:

Malik Jenkins (Uncle-In-Law): Malik has never tried to get to know Ebony personally. While Malik and Grant are friends, he has practically ignored Ebony and Imani. They’re unsure why but cannot bring themselves to care about it.

Alexus Anderson (Aunt): Alexus always looked down on Ebony and her open ways. Besides family and hunter business, Ebony tries her best to ignore Alexus.

Seth Allen (Annoyance): Seth is a new player in town. Sarah Harris has apologized on his behalf multiple times and Ebony had to fight to get his name off of the hunters free for all board at Lily’s House. Seth has been spotted around town in his animal form and spraying graffiti everywhere.

Jazmine Anderson (Aunt): Ebony can’t stand her aunts. Jazmine is the biggest backstabber of them all, and even though they all know this, they repeatedly get played. Ebony knows she’s not immune and has limited her time talking to her after she created a fight between her and Imani.

Pets:

Meowth (Siamese Cat): She saw Meowth in the window of a pet store on a “Me Time” vacation and couldn’t get his face out of her mind. She went back three times that week and on the third time, bought him and everything he’d need.

→ History (paragraph(s) on background)

→ The Present (paragraph(s) on how the character connects to the plot)

→ Available Gif Hunts (we do not own these)

Nafessa Williams [1][2][3][4]

[stevishabitat]

“These are the perils of working from home,” mutters David Tennant, typing into his phone, filmed by his computer and watched, bemusedly, by me.

The 49-year-old actor has been texting, intermittently and apologetically, throughout our Zoom call. One of his five children (aged 18, nine, seven, four and eight months) has returned to school, and it seems pickup arrangements have been miscommunicated.

Tennant’s correspondent – I assume it is his wife, Georgia – is messaging from inside the house; Tennant is in the garden, his long lockdown locks pushed back into a Beckham-style headband. Over yonder, he gestures off-camera, a homeschooling lesson is under way: “I came outside to avoid the maths.”

Yet Tennant seems to have embraced the realities of home life, with two BBC projects drawing on his experience of raising a family. In the meta, of-the-moment series Staged, he and Georgia play versions of themselves in lockdown in their Chiswick home, while There She Goes (which returns for a second series tomorrow) captures an oft-unspoken truth about parenting, says Tennant: that “it’s sort of a slog”.

Coupled with doing interviews from his garden – Tennant tips his camera to show me Myrtle the cockapoo, flopped at his feet – it offers a surprising glimpse into the family life of an actor who has previously been reluctant to reveal any of it.

“We’re not quite as squeamish as we were,” he agrees, not least because his eldest son, Ty, is now also an actor. “I don’t think we’ll ever be sharing pictures of our children in Hello! magazine, but I think a lot of that comes from an insecurity about being uncovered or invaded. The longer you’re together, the less that feels like a threat.”

Tennant met Georgia (then Moffett) in 2008 on the set of Doctor Who – her father is a former Doctor, Pete Davison. “As our relationship was born out of people trying to stick lenses through windows, it’s taken us a long time to slough off that residual nervousness about sharing anything.”

These days, their guard is low enough for Georgia to post on Instagram a shot of herself breastfeeding – and to rail against Mark Zuckerberg when the image was removed by Facebook for breaching community standards (“I’ll come round there and squirt you in the eye”).

But, Tennant adds: “It’s still important to us that the characters in Staged are not us,” “David” being “more pathetic” than Tennant and “Georgia” more indulgent of him. “We’re not telling the actual story of our private life.”

There She Goes, however, he praises as scrupulously honest. The comedy stars Tennant and Jessica Hynes as parents of a child with a severe learning disability, based on the experience of the writers Shaun Pye and Sarah Crawford with their daughter, who was born with an extremely rare (and still undiagnosed) chromosomal disorder.

Tennant plays Simon, the character Pye based on himself: a loving but somewhat hapless father, always out to foist young Rosie on to his wife so he can head down the pub. Tennant says he tried to catch Pye out on set: “I’d go: ‘This bit we’re doing today – that didn’t really happen, did it?’ And everything is true.”

The first series was widely praised for refusing to sugarcoat the realities of parenting and marriage, while still finding moments of sweetness. Hynes won a Bafta for her turn as Emily, Rosie’s harried but devoted mum who, in a low moment, admits to struggling to love her newborn.

Simon, meanwhile, leans on booze and dark humour. There She Goes can be an undeniably uncomfortable watch. But the dual narratives of each episode – switching between a challenging but joyful time for the family and a more desperate early one – provide relief and perspective.

Tennant considers the series a mainstream comedy. Yet there had been trepidation within the BBC about how it would be received, he says, “because it lacked a certain sentimentality and political correctness – there was a real fear”. He disdainfully recalls a journalist at the press launch playing devil’s advocate, warning of a coming “shitstorm”: “He said: ‘You are going to be destroyed for putting this on television.’ We all hoped he was wrong – but we feared that he might be right.” And this was after the huge critical success of the police drama Broadchurch, which might easily have convinced Tennant he could do no wrong.

The casting of a non-disabled actor as nine-year-old Rosie – who is non-verbal, with the mental age of a toddler – was one sensitivity, says Tennant. The possibility of casting an actor with a learning disability had been explored, he says, “because, of course, that’s a live issue and one that has to be rightly unpicked”. But the demands of the role were found to be too great for a young actor with a disability. “Anyone who appreciates the kind of challenges that a child like Rosie would have doesn’t doubt that it would not really have been possible.”

Miley Locke, who is now 11, was “an incredible find”, says Tennant, praising her as nimble and uninhibited in a challenging role. Locke has met Jo, on whom Rosie is based, and has “an incredible capacity to find the truth of that character”, he says. “She’s also very game – I’m endlessly having to pick her up and fling her about and yank her around …”

Any parent will identify with “that constant sense that you’re falling short”, he says – now, perhaps, more than ever. A scene in which Emily tries desperately to work in the face of Rosie’s demands has taken on new relevance during lockdown. “Well, quite,” says Tennant, while texting in response to the latest news from Georgia. “Erm. Sorry …”

A big part of the challenge of shooting Staged was finding moments when the children were “either asleep or quiet”, but Tennant counts himself as “phenomenally fortunate” to have had the work, given how acting has been affected by the pandemic. This October, he was due to appear in CP Taylor’s play Good; that now seems unlikely.

Even when theatres are able to reopen, Tennant does not foresee audiences flocking back, “to sit there watching three hours of Chekhov as someone coughs all over them”. The impact on British culture could be catastrophic, he fears, even for institutions such as the National Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company. “It’s a huge bill just to keep those buildings running … We could be left with a cultural scene that’s vastly changed, and that’s a huge part of who we are as a nation.

“Even if the theatre is of no interest to you, even if it feels like an elitist playground, it’s places like that that all the other creative industries feed off,” he says, adding that the arts make a significant contribution to the UK economy – nearly £11bn in 2016, more than agriculture.

Tennant’s career first developed in theatre. As a teenager in Paisley, the son of a Presbyterian minister, he became one of the youngest students at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama. Even as his work in television and film has taken off, Tennant continues to be a regular on stage, especially with the RSC.

It faces a “titanic problem” in the pandemic, he says, having furloughed 90% of its staff. Government intervention is needed to support theatres until they can reopen, he says, but he is sceptical of it materialising. “If one felt more inclined to trust this government, one might relax, but they haven’t exactly covered themselves in glory thus far.” In fact, since I spoke to Tennant, the government has promised the arts and heritage sectors a rescue package worth £1.57bn, which the playwright and funding advocate James Graham described as “surprisingly ambitious”.

A longtime Labour supporter, Tennant appeared in an election broadcast in 2015 before becoming disillusioned with Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership (to summarise various diplomatic responses to interviewers). Asked if he was a fan of Corbyn in 2017, he said he was a fan of the party – although its ambivalent position on Brexit (which Tennant has called a “shitshow”) was a sticking point.

Before last year’s general election, he said he was not even sure if he would vote for Labour. He did – to return Ruth Cadbury to her Brentford and Isleworth seat: “And, also, what was the actual alternative?”

He admits he found Labour’s defeat and the postmortem “disappointingly predictable”, although he still struggles to fathom how so many red seats turned blue. “How do you go from ever being a Labour supporter to supporting Boris Johnson?” he asks, dumbfounded.

He expresses some limited sympathy for politicians handed a pandemic when they thought they “were only going to have to talk about Brexit”. “But if you choose a cabinet purely to surround yourself with people who won’t disagree with you, you’re not necessarily getting the greatest brains in the country,” he says, although a caveat is quick in coming. “One might postulate, were that to be the case, and I’m not for a minute suggesting it is …”

Last year, Tennant singled out Michael Gove’s call for “enough of experts” as a “political lowpoint”. That attitude has had deadly consequences during the pandemic, I suggest. Now the government is “hiding behind them”, he agrees – “selectively, of course. If the experts then say: ‘We told them not to do that,’ suddenly they’re evil again.”

He shakes his head in despair. “Ugh! It’s a very sad state of affairs. Remember when there used to be clever people? When you look back on David Cameron and George W Bush with some kind of sentimentality, you think: ‘Jesus – how low have we plummeted, when they look like better options than what we’ve got currently?’”

Under Keir Starmer, Tennant says Labour “are looking a lot stronger”: “We’ve got a clever grownup in the room, which makes the other side look as ridiculous as they are. Let’s hope he can fulfil his early promise.”

Tennant has said he was inspired to act by watching Doctor Who at the age of three. When he was cast as the 10th incarnation of the Doctor, in 2005, he quipped that the first line of his obituary was written. Ten years since ceding the role to Matt Smith, Tennant remains as connected as ever to the programme, recording a new Doctor Who audio drama while in lockdown. “It’s a nice show to be associated with, because people feel kindly towards it,” he says. “You may not be a fan, but it sort of sits there in the cultural firmament. As a nation, I think we’re quite proud of it.”

Unlike many vehicles for British nostalgia, the malleability of the format has allowed Doctor Who to move with the times, he thinks. “It absolutely comes with all that nostalgic goodwill, but it also manages to live in the moment.

“It felt like a very different show in 2005 than it did in 1963, but it also has that link to the past – which is a positive, rather than preserving it in aspic in any way.” And the Doctor, defined by his (or her) kindness, a peaceful champion of the underdog, is “a wonderful character to aspire to. It’s about being the cleverest person in the room, not the strongest.”

Tennant, meanwhile, remains in his garden, the school pickup plan no more clear for all the messages sent back and forth over the threshold. “Probably would have been quicker just to go and have a conversation,” he says, cheerily. “But less fun for you, obviously.”

[chicagocityofclans]

Ebony Anderson → Nafessa Williams  → Hunter

→ Basic Information

Age: 31

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Birthday: July 23rd

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Religion: Catholic

→ Her Personality (one to two paragraphs)

→ Her Personal Facts

Occupation: Tracker and Dealer

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Vibrant Colors and ‘Me’ Time

Two Dislikes: Coconut and Muttering

Two Fears: Semi Truck Accident and Disappointing her Parents

Two Hobbies: Attending Fashion Weeks and Researching

Three Positive Traits: Outgoing, Persuasive, Flexible

Three Negative Traits: Frivolous, Instigative, Selfish

→ Her Connections

Parent Names:

Grant Anderson  (Father): Ebony has always been daddy’s little girl and has had Grant wrapped around her finger since birth. He taught her everything she knows and made sure she trained only with the best. Ebony knows Grant will make a great leader but is also unsure if taking the mantle at 53 years old is wise or beneficial for their family.

Candace Anderson (Mother): Ebony’s mother is loving and smothering. Candace’s family believed in breeding for the best possible hunter outcomes. Ebony does not blame her mother for running and finds her story encouraging; especially about meeting her dad. This also made Ebony life hell with a clingy and opinionated mother. Candace has been lighting the fire under her to get married and have kids.

Sibling Names:

Imani Colt nee Anderson (Sister): Ebony and Imani have a common sisterly bond. They have each others backs and get along well but are also constantly fighting about stupid things and pissing each other off. Ebony encouraged Imani to start dating Blaine and has always been supportive of their relationship.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Chris Shaw (Dated): Ebony dated Chris for 3 months for information about Isaac and Sol for her cousin Nia. Chris thought she was human and that she was too busy to continue their relationship. Chris was boring but very easy to pull information from, while he didn’t right out tell her what was going on, Ebony could easily piece together his subtext and hints.  

Tristan Lawton (Ex-Boyfriend): Tristan was surprisingly easy to get close to but Ebony was unable to make it last as long as she would have liked to. The witches and warlock supernatural community is tightly knitted and Tristan called her out for being a hunter on their second date. He seemed cool about it and asked to keep seeing her which Ebony indulged in for a few months pulling away. They have continued to see each other off and on for the past 6 years.

Carter Bialar (Ex-Boyfriend): Ebony went after Carter after Alice Colt was attacked by someone from the Cat Pack. Grant wanted info and they only had a last name to go off of. She tracked down his son and pumped him for as much info as she could. He ghosted her after she met one of his friends and she thinks they may have figured her out.

Riley Anderson (Flirted): Ebony inadvertently got Riley’s information from Carter. Riley was his college buddy that Ebony found out was a bear shifter. She shared the information with Alexus and Grant but was told to hang back while Alexus worked with the senior members of their pack. Riley was unknown to them since he never frequented the Fields Hotel. Ebony still flirted with him and faked interest in purchasing a house. They attended a few parties together and hung out but Ebony had to call it quits when he wanted to introduce her to his friends, including Carter who she had recently broken things off with on bad terms.

Audo Wilhelm (Ex-Boyfriend): Audo was one of Ebony’s first targets. Grant wanted her to get an inside look at Shutter House Exports & Import and Audo was supposed to be her ticket in. He was literally the only magic user they knew that took some type of transportation to work instead of using magic. Ebony was sure she was ready but she quickly caught genuine feelings for Audo. It wasn’t love but she cared about him and his well being. Ebony quickly got what information she could and called things off.  

Platonic Connections:

Nia Anderson (Cousin): She couldn’t stand Nia while they were younger, believing she got everything she wanted for a quarter of the work that Ebony and Imani did. They’ve become closer in their 30s and Ebony has come to realize that Nia doesn’t really seem to want to be head of the Andersons. That realization has taken a lot of the animosity away, and Ebony can have fun with Nia.

Trevon Anderson (Cousin): Ebony likes Trevon and thinks he’s making his own path. He seems to have really taken to Grant and Blaine, and Ebony thinks it’s made him a better hunter.

Marquis Anderson (Cousin): Ebony doesn’t really know what’s going on with Marquis. He always seems to be lurking in the shadows, or on his way out. She hasn’t been hunting with him in ages, but apparently he holds his own.

Raven Jenkins (Cousin): Ebony likes Raven. She gets her independence and thinks it should be encouraged. She’s loyal to the family and a good hunter, so there shouldn’t be any problems.

Tirra Jenkins (Aunt): Ebony can’t stand her aunts. Tirra is off in her own world thinking she matters more than the rest of them. The best thing she did was have Raven.

Amy Colt (Good Friend): Imani and Blaine introduced Ebony and Amy to each other when they first started to date. They bonded over being their families dealers and hunting. They’ve recently started to share contacts. Their personalities matched enough to hang out away from their families and hunting in general.

Rebecca Stone (Friend): Rebecca pulled Ebony aside at Lilly’s House with inquiries about a leather jacket she was wearing, Ebony took it upon herself to order multiple genuine leather jackets for Rebecca; Ebony heard Rebecca was a leather jacket enthusiast. They’ve remained in contact and have become friends. 

Samir Khoury (Acquaintance): Ebony orders ingredients from Samir and Judsoin for the Anderson’s batch of hunters Ancestral Elixir. To keep supernaturals from finding out what exact ingredients they use, Ebony orders 100 different ingredients a week but for the entire month only one or two of them would be what she actually needs. Since ingredients are rare, it's hard to find other hunters who are willing to share their sources or supplies. Samir doesn’t ask questions and thinks she is a human beautician and naturalist.

Judson Cleirigh (Acquaintance): Ebony orders ingredients from Samir and Judsoin for the Anderson’s batch of hunters Ancestral Elixir. To keep supernaturals from finding out what exact ingredients they use, Ebony orders 100 different ingredients a week but for the entire month only one of them would be what she needs. Ebony thinks Judson may be suspicious of her but he has yet to say anything or acted out in any way to confirm it. He has randomly started to add care tips for growing her own ingredients at home but none of them have been any of the key ingredients she needs. She thinks he’s just being nice and helpful.

Sirius Cobic (Mutual Agreement): The human shifters seem to be the neutral party in Chicago and they own the police. Ebony can’t tell for sure if every person in the police department is a human shifter or if it’s a mixture but it is clear that Sirius is the ring leader. Sirius randomly approached her one day with a proposition that Ebony couldn’t refuse. He was willing to hand off untouchables and other supernaturals that go unpunished by their packs to the Andersons.  

Douglas Gish (Mutual Agreement): Douglas is another known human shifter that approached Ebony nearly a year after Sirius did but around the same time as Sarah. The human shifter police officers were willing to hand off human cases that weren’t handled properly or didn’t have enough evidence to prosecute. They are willing to turn a blind eye to their activities as long as they aren't messy. Malik seems to be the only one that still gets speeding or parking tickets.

Sarah Harris (Mutual Agreement): Sarah has approached Ebony and Elle Colt about hunting human criminals. Jackals have no use to hunters besides information; the same can be said for rats and nimbles. The Anderson's family hunt for hire for the local Jackal Pack and in return the jackal government workers look in the opposite direction when it comes to zoning, public records, licensing, code enforcement, power and light bills, etc.

Blaine Colt (Brother-In-Law): Ebony encouraged Imani to start dating Blaine and has always been supportive of their relationship. Ebony likes Blaine's way of hunting and looks forward to working more with him in the future.

Fiona ‘Fi’ Marz (Friendly): During a really bad tornado, Ebony took an anonymous order for animal shifter and human shifter blood. Her contact turned out to be a vampire. They continued to deal like this for bad thunderstorms and tornadoes. After Imani joined the Colt family, Ebony shared another dealer, Amy Colt’s information with Fi to lessen her load.

Hostile Connections:

Malik Jenkins (Uncle-In-Law): Malik has never tried to get to know Ebony personally. While Malik and Grant are friends, he has practically ignored Ebony and Imani. They’re unsure why but cannot bring themselves to care about it.

Alexus Anderson (Aunt): Alexus always looked down on Ebony and her open ways. Besides family and hunter business, Ebony tries her best to ignore Alexus.

Seth Allen (Annoyance): Seth is a new player in town. Sarah Harris has apologized on his behalf multiple times and Ebony had to fight to get his name off of the hunters free for all board at Lily’s House. Seth has been spotted around town in his animal form and spraying graffiti everywhere.

Jazmine Anderson (Aunt): Ebony can’t stand her aunts. Jazmine is the biggest backstabber of them all, and even though they all know this, they repeatedly get played. Ebony knows she’s not immune and has limited her time talking to her after she created a fight between her and Imani.

Pets:

Meowth (Siamese Cat): She saw Meowth in the window of a pet store on a “Me Time” vacation and couldn’t get his face out of her mind. She went back three times that week and on the third time, bought him and everything he’d need.

→ History (paragraph(s) on background)

→ The Present (paragraph(s) on how the character connects to the plot)

→ Available Gif Hunts (we do not own these)

Nafessa Williams [1][2][3][4]

[zutaras-where-its-at]

21: “He’s a bad kisser”

I’ve been busy the last week with moving to a new place and trying to get everything set up, so I apologize for the lateness of these requests, but don’t worry, I’m still attempting to get through as many as possible!

Every prompt is ending up longer and longer than I had originally intended, but I’m not mad about it lol. This one is definitely my cheesy shipper heart talking, so it’s mostly fluff and dialogue, and wholly indulging my shameless wishful thinking.

[Set during “The Ember Island Players.” The conversation we all wish had happened.]

xxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

He doesn’t really know why he edged Aang out to sit next to her. He doesn’t really wanna think about it. Call him a coward, but the realization waiting for him at the end of that particular rabbit trail isn’t one he’s necessarily prepared to confront.

What he does know, however, is that he possesses incredible hearing, even with his scorched ear. And when the two actors on stage portraying Jet and Katara begin to incessantly flirt with one another, Zuko almost chokes on his spit when he hears Katara mutter under her breath beside him.

“He’s a bad kisser.”

Zuko shoots her a bewildered look and hisses, “What?”

She startles, apparently not realizing she had spoken aloud. “I—uh, what?”

Zuko whips his head back to stare at the actors, who are now grossly entwined with one another, and he can’t unsee the image of the real Jet and Katara locked in an embrace.

“You and—“

“Shut up!” She cuts him off with a harsh whisper, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. Her eyes flick to the others behind them, but they’re too busy watching the entrance of their own characters. “Just shut up.”

“But he was insane!”

She blinks, then leans closer, dark brows scrunching together. “Wait. How do you know Jet?”

Before he can answer, Toph punches Katara in the shoulder and tells them to quit gossiping.

Zuko crosses his arms and tries not to glare through the rest of the play. His foul mood only worsens as the night wears on. Intermission comes and goes. The cringeworthy moment between his actor and Katara’s passes with discomfort from both parties and light teasing from the others. The traumatic end goes up in literal flames, and finally, they’re free to leave.

The night air is cool and dry against his skin, and Zuko takes a deep breath, attempting to calm the convulsing fire within him. Sokka and Toph attempt to cheer up the group, and even succeed in bringing out a few laughs from the others, but the mood refuses to shift beyond that.

The moment they step foot in the beach house, everyone disperses to their respective rooms. No one seems up to any games or conversation anymore.

Zuko lays in bed, eyes staring blankly at the wood panels above him. His mind is still racing and his head feels like it might explode, so once the noise of people moving around in the house finally dies down, he throws on a shirt and makes his way to the kitchen. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to scrounge up some of his family’s old alcohol in one of the cupboards.

Zuko is in the midst of cursing at all the empty bottles of wine and whiskey he finds in the pantry when she walks in.

“What are you doing?”

He jerks up on reflex, smacking his head against the shelf he’s leaning over and curses again. Apparently, his incredible hearing only picks up on disturbing and uncomfortable information from his enemy-turned-friend, but is useless when that aforementioned friend actually sneaks up on him.

Zuko throws a look over his shoulder to see Katara standing in the doorway looking mildly amused.

“I’m trying to get drunk, but it looks like I’m shit out of luck.”

She snorts and walks to the wicker basket sitting on the counter. Her nimble fingers glide over the assortment of fruit before she picks up a ripe looking mango. Her other hand grabs the small knife beside the basket before she’s walking out the way she came.

“Well, I’m going to get some fresh air. Have fun.”

He stares after her for a moment, rubbing at the bump that’s beginning to form on the back of his head. Making up his mind, he finally ditches the disappointing liquor cabinet, grabs an ash banana, and follows her to the porch.

She’s already slicing the mango into halves when he joins her. She doesn’t look up when he sits down next to her, but she does tip her head up in acknowledgment.

He watches her shave off a piece of the mango and stick it in her mouth, watches the pale juice slip down her fingers and over her wrist. He blinks hard and focuses on peeling his banana. They eat their fruit like that, just sitting on the front steps in a mutually maintained silence.

Zuko would even go so far as to call it peaceful. That is, until she takes it upon herself to violate the quiet mood.

“Did you really dump Mai in a letter?”

It’s so far from what he expected her to say that a sharp laugh manages to escape him. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t exactly trying to dump her, but she took it that way anyways.”

“What were you trying to do?”

Zuko sighs and throws his banana peel into the shadowed bushes at the bottom of the steps with a little more force than necessary. “I don’t know. I—I guess I just didn’t want to drag her into my mess. Things were already complicated between us, even after I returned to the Fire Nation. In a way, I thought I was doing her a favor by leaving without saying goodbye. She doesn’t deserve to suffer from my choices.”

“Well, it sounds like she’s suffering anyways.”

He bristles at that, voice growing cold. “Don’t act like you know her or our relationship. Everything I did was—“

“Zuko, relax.” Her eyes are wide, caught off guard by his biting tone. “I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything. I just...I can imagine how she feels—knowing that you’re doing what you think is best, but she can’t help you. That’s probably a tough spot to be in.”

Slowly, Zuko let’s the tension seep out from his shoulders, resuming his previously relaxed state. “Yeah.”

An apologetic smile tilts her lips. “In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the best time to sympathize with her side. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs and fiddles with the hem of his tunic. “You’re right though. Even when I try to do the right thing, I end up hurting someone.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees her shift a little, her body turning just the slightest bit more towards him.

“Look, Zuko. If the right thing was always the easiest thing to do, then nobody would struggle to make the right choices.” She hesitates for just a second before continuing. “Do you regret leaving her and coming to join us?”

He feels his heart beating slow and steady against his rib cage, and before he can really process the question, his answer is slipping out with a confidence he hadn’t realized he possessed. “No, I don’t. If I had stayed, a part of me would have hated myself for ignoring my destiny, and I know that I eventually would have hated her for it too.”

She reaches over and briefly squeezes his arm before letting go again. The skin there tingles in the seconds after her hand withdraws. “Then you’re okay. You can’t control anyone else’s feelings, only your own. Mai is strong. She’ll be alright.”

Uncle would love you, Zuko thinks.

He doesn’t realize he’s said this out loud until she laughs and shakes her head.

Suddenly, he remembers a part of the play that had him puzzled.

“Were you really the Painted Lady?”

Her laughter abruptly cuts off and she sheepishly tugs on a lock of hair. “Only for a little bit. The part about healing the people and cleaning the river is true, but the playwright added about twelve more explosions than there actually were. Plus, I had Aang, Sokka, and Toph to help me out.”

“But did you actually destroy a Fire Nation factory?”

A defensive look shutters her face, a blush rising to her cheeks. “Yes, but the factory was polluting their water! And the soldiers from the factory were—“

“Do you wanna be my partner sometime?”

“—taking all the medicine from—what?”

He tries valiantly not to laugh at her incredulous stare.

“Do you want to be my partner sometime?” He leans back on his hands, legs straightening out in front of him. “The playwright got a lot of things wrong. That time Aang got captured—Zhao was the one who caught him. I was the Blue Spirit that broke him out.”

She gapes at him, lips struggling to form words.

He grins. “I just think that the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady might make a good team.”

Her mouth opens and shuts a few times before she lets out a soft “huh” and squints her eyes at him.

“So...Between chasing after us and commanding a squad of soldiers, you somehow found the time to be a street vigilante?”

“Between running away from me and helping the Avatar save the world, you somehow found the time to make out with a teenage terrorist?”

It slips out before he can stop it, and a pang of guilt sweeps through him. He winces, afraid that he’s just ruined a perfectly civil conversation because of his irrational jealousy curiosity.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—I wasn’t—“

His rambling cuts off when she starts to laugh. It’s a little brittle and a lot loud, but it’s laughter all the same.

She stops, smiling ruefully up at the night sky. “Yeah, I guess it does sound pretty stupid when you put it that way.”

“It’s not stupid.”

She lets out a long sigh and flops onto her back, arms splayed haphazardly above her head. “No, it is. I mean, in my defense, he was one of the first boys my age that I’d pretty much ever met, and he did happen to be extremely charming. That was also back when life didn’t feel like it was always on the cusp of the end of the world. But all of that...I mean, the kissing and stuff...it’s all just a waste of time right now.”

Zuko doesn’t quite know what to say to that, an odd mix of sympathy and disappointment swirling his stomach.

“Surprisingly, he kisses better than Jet. But only by a little.”

“Who?”

“Aang.”

Zuko’s eyes almost bug out of their sockets for what feels like the millionth time tonight. He scrambles to twist around and look at her. “You’ve kissed Aang?”

She hardly moves, eyes trained on the stars stretching above them. “Well, he kissed me. Twice, actually.”

There’s a beat, and then Zuko is bending over his knees with his head in his hands, half-groaning, half-chuckling.

“Of course he did.”

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“No, no! I’m not laughing at you, I swear.”

She covers her face with her hands and Zuko leans back on one elbow, stifling his chuckles.

“I’m not laughing at you. I just find the situation kind of ironic.”

One droll eye peeks out at him from between her fingers. “Ironic how?”

He blanches, realizing too late that this conversation has taken a rapid turn for a topic that he has shoved (guiltily, shamefully) deep into the recesses of his mind. Stuttering, Zuko gestures emptily with one hand.

“I just meant—well it’s—,” a half-grunt, half-squeak escapes his throat and Zuko would very much like to die right about now, “I’m just saying that—“

She isn’t covering her face anymore, so he can see the delicate lift of her left eyebrow in all its judgmental glory. He looks away.

“I just think your taste in men is interesting.”

He continues to avoid her eyes, but he can still feel her searching gaze on the side of his face.

“That’s not what you were going to say.”

“What? Yes it was.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Zuko, you’re a terrible liar. What were you really going to say? Why do you think it’s so ironic that Aang and I have kissed?”

The logical part of his brain warns him that telling her the truth would be a very large mistake, strictly cautions him that it would only complicate their hard-earned friendship. But the other part of his brain—the part that fully soaks in her un-ruffled, overly-composed appearance and longs to just smudge it with a streak of his own insecurity and embarrassment—that part quickly bashes the logical part in the face with a tsungi horn and leaves it to bleed out in a ditch.

“I find it so ironic, Katara, because a genocidal homeless kid and a twelve year old monk have managed to accomplish what I’ve been wanting to do for ages now.”

She blinks, and Zuko feels the sharp sting of a blush crawling up his neck, but the damage is already done and he refuses to be the first to look away.

A string of emotions shifts like shadows over her face—confusion surprise embarrassment. Realization.

Her lashes flutter, her lips part, and her eyelids lower to half-mast. Zuko has to clench his teeth to hold back a groan.

“You,” her breath skates across his face (when did they get so close?), “want to kiss me?”

He doesn’t trust his voice at the moment, giving her a jerky nod instead and then immediately wanting to sink into the floor.

But she hardly seems to notice his jittery body language. Rather, a slow grin curls at her mouth, and a cheeky glint makes her eyes sparkle up at him in a way that warns of danger. He doesn’t know why, but it turns him on a little.

“Well, clearly, you have quite the challenge waiting for you in the kissing department. How do I know you won’t be just as terrible of a kisser as Jet and Aang? Really, I don’t know if this is worth the risk for me.”

His nervousness begins to fade with her teasing, and he lets out a huff of laughter before doing what he does best. He rises to her bait.

“I might just be the best goddamn kisser in the whole Fire Nation, and you would never have the privilege of experiencing that unless you kiss me.”

Katara guffaws and levels him with an appraising look, her face tilting just the slightest bit up.

“Oh, so now it’s me who’s kissing you?”

He gives her a sage look, hair falling across his brow and tangling with his dark lashes. “That’s right. You better seize this rare opportunity before it slips right through your fingers. I have plenty of other suitors waiting for me, you know.”

Her snort nearly pulls a chuckle out of him, but he manages to maintain some semblance of a straight face.

“Plenty of other suitors, huh?”

“Plenty. Appa is the next on my list.”

One of his long fingers lightly coils around one of her dark, thin ones. With their faces mere inches apart, Zuko can see the mirth bubbling in the blue of her eyes mixing with something even brighter, something he can’t put into words but he can feel in his bones.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be shown up by Appa, now would I?”

When she finally presses her lips to his, Zuko swears that a Katara-shaped hole has just been carved into the puzzle that is his fate.

[callmesteve]

sneak peak at what i’m writing?

for real this time, sghlidugh. 

so, that post i just posted? yeah, i started a rough draft. here’s the first half! (not really any dami yet, sorry folks :((. also, note: i’ve made jon and damian the same age, i think there’s an age gap normally, but this works better for me.) 

do i continue it?

(fic below the cut)

Dick and Bruce go back in time to save Damian before he was killed. They end up in the wrong time. There’s so many ways it goes wrong.

Dick crosses through the portal to dusty air and ashes scattered amongst the ground. Buildings crumble around the torn up street. Markings all over the remains of Gotham tell Dick all he needs to know. Green and red spray paint curl heavenward in a sick imitation of Joker’s manic grin. When he hears Dick grunt, he whirls around, already gesturing to their belts. “We’ve hit the wrong time,” he says, voice carefully low. “I think we went forward, not back.” 

It’s just like Bruce said, before they left. Time travel is a fickle thing. There’s no right way to do it with the resources they’re working with. Plus, it doesn’t really help that ever since Bruce’s whole incident with Frankenstien, Tim’s been hellbent on not helping their efforts to get Damian back. 

God, Dick knew this wasn’t going to work. There had been too many variables in the beginning. Too many what if’s, too many maybe not’s. 

He just had to agree to go with Bruce anyway, hadn’t he? 

With a groan, he drops his head into the palms of his hands. Ever since Damian died, all Bruce could think of doing was bringing him back to life. He hadn’t been like this with Jason, but with the knowledge that Jason had managed to come back to life- Bruce took it and ran and somehow ended up coming across time travel. Their plan was simple. Go back to the fight that took Damian’s life far too early, stop Heretic before he was able to slide that sword through his little brother’s chest. They’d open themselves a new life where Damian lived and breathed and-

And Dick swallows a sob, fixing his domino mask to make sure it covers his teary eyes. He was just like Bruce, in the end. All Dick wanted was to wrap his arms around Damian one last time, to hold him close and breathe in that stupid strawberry shampoo Dick decided to buy him. Why wouldn’t he want to help Bruce with this? Dick and Bruce, although they both avoided the conversation, knew that Damian and Dick were closer than the title of brothers allowed. (Father and son fit better, Dick dares to think.)

“Should we stop by the Batcave in our time?” Bruce questions, as he fiddles with his wrist computer. While the actual portal-opening-thing-a-ma-jigs were attached to their belts, all the information they needed rested in their batcomputer’s archives, for Alfred to monitor over. “Or should we just skip to the next time we have queued up?”

Home rests on the tip of Dick’s tongue. They’ve only just started this time travel task, and Dick already feels weighed down by his grief. He’s still mourning, naturally. At this rate, he knows he’ll end up compromised by the time they make it to the time they’re shooting to find. All he wants to do, (besides save Damian and hold him again), is to go home to the manor, make tea, and cry as Mean Girls plays in the backgr-

“You’re not Batman,” someone scoffs, voice laced with a pout. They sound offended, almost, and- And Dick knows that voice. It’s older, sure, but- “It’s rude to pretend to be a dead man- and to dress up as someone who’s still around. I think. Technically. Okay, okay- Didn’t your mom’s ever teach you not to play pretend as dead men, guys?” 

Dick’s eyes shoot up, to a familiar little getup. The red cape, cropped so it doesn’t pass the knees, the ripped jeans still baby blue, the same old Superman t-shirt, long since faded. Beat up converse, double knotted on his feet. He’s a few years older and a whole lot taller than when Dick last saw him, but it’s all the same. 

Jonathan Kent stands before Dick and Bruce, hands folded across his chest. 

Dick still remembers the days that Jon and Damian raced around the manor, (and the penthouse, while Bruce had disappeared). Years ago, Clark had decided it’d be a good idea to get the two to be friends, given the fact they were around the same age. It’s just a shame that they never got the chance to grow up as complete heroes together. Him and Damian had been close- really close. Their time’s Jon was still torn up about Damian’s death. 

This Jon blinks as he takes in Dick and Bruce, before tutting an all too familiar tut. “I’m gonna have to bring you guys in to the base. No running away.” He purses his lips, regarding Bruce closer for a moment. “B-boy doesn’t like it when people do that. It always attracts the Joker’s attention, and we don’t need that.” 

Dick looks back to Bruce, and they both share a nod. No confrontation until Heretic- not unless it’s totally needed. That was their agreement. Besides, from Jon’s reaction of them, this time’s Nightwing and Bruce-Batman are obviously dead. It’s a dull thought, considering that Jon’s only a few years older. Dick can admit that he’s at least curious about who dawns the cowl now, though. Dick had done it last time- Jason probably refused to this time, too. Especially with Joker leading this whole thing.

Tim, then? He’ll be the smartest Batman there ever were, that’s for sure. It’s just a shame he had to do it so young. 

A pit forms in Dick’s gut. If Bruce, Dick and Damian are dead, there’s a big chance that all Tim really has left is Alfred. (God, Dick hopes Alfred’s still alive.) 

“We’ll go,” Dick says, raising his hands in the air. “You’ve just got a misunderstanding about us, is all. We’ll clear it up and explain it to- uh- B-boy?” 

B-boy could mean Beast Boy, really, but Dick’s pretty sure it’s just Batman. He’s confirmed as correct when Jon amends with, “Batman. He’s so uptight and serious now-a-days. We like to make fun of him- All friendly teasing, y’know- But- You probably shouldn’t- He’ll feed you to Ivy’s plants the next time she decides it’s time to swarm the city.” He winced at his own words, the nod to Ivy sending the conversation and joking cold. 

Dick has a feeling the new Batman might just be Jason. Prickly and serious could fit with Tim, but- Hey. Who knows. Grief and mourning do things to people that you can’t always explain. Time travel included. 

Jon leads them by the wrists after slapping cuffs on their wrists. They’re the plastic kind you can buy in toy stores for your kids to play with, but they’ve been modified and bulked up with metal, steel and tech. The locks have been changed from a key to a fingerprint scanner. When Jon’s fingers brush over it, the little screen beeps red. He clearly can’t unlock it. (The Bruce-influenced part of his mind thinks that it’s good- if he needs to, he can put a pair on Jon and not need to worry about him getting out. They seem pretty solid. Though, there’s always the chance that he could break out, Super-something’s always seem to surprise him.) 

“These are pretty high tech,” Dick remarks, more for the sake of something to say and to focus on, than to learn about the cuffs. Not that it’s not cool, or important to hear about. “How’d you guys make them?” 

“I’m not as dumb as I look,” Jon scowls. “I won’t hand away free information just because you think I’m stupid and easy to trick.” 

It’s a completely valid concern. Dick gets to work shooting it down. “We’ve been compliant! If I wanted to cause trouble, I would’ve already. As soon as we get to Batman, we’ll explain that this whole thing was a mistake and that he doesn’t have to worry about us! Or- Me, at least.” He gestures to Bruce. “He’s pretty shifty. We’ll be fine.”

Surprisingly enough, Jon gives. “B made them,” he half-beams. Tim then. “Only his fingerprint is recognised. Way too many times have we had traitors in our midst that free our prisoners, or just plain old teammates who are super gullible. He was gonna let me be one of the only other people, besides- uh- someone else. But.” He adopts a sheepish grin. “Stuff happened, I guess. It was really bad. I trust his judgement, though!” 

“If he’s good, then all power to you,” Dick grins back. 

Bruce hunches his shoulders. “What the hell happened to Gotham?” he asks, and Dick winces at his wrecked tone. It’s their city, to be reduced to ash in a few years time. There’s no point in asking the year instead, anyhow. Jon’s no older than sixteen now, no younger than twelve or thirteen. They can take a pretty good guess. “We were just here-” Bruce pauses, piling on an alibi fast. “-a few years ago.” 

Nice save, B.

“B always says a lot can happen in a few years! You’d be surprised. And- Everyone’s heard of the old Batman’s loss at the hands of the Joker and his Arkham crew. He didn’t die in the battle- He came close. Present day Batman took up the cowl while the villains reaped their spoils of war. Old Batman died pretty soon after that. Health complications, I think?” Jon hums. “I thought you might’ve been posing as the old Batman. I guess I was wrong then, since you didn’t know?” 

“I’m not posing as anyone,” Bruce grinds out. Dick chokes back a laugh, which goes sour as soon as he grumbles, “Fuckin’ Joker.” 

Dick steps over a stray piece of rubble on nimble feet. “See?” he whispers to Bruce. “You should’ve let Lil’ D beat up Joker when he had him in that damn room.” He scowls low, matching Bruce to a near perfect T. The Joker has messed with their lives way too much, at this point. 

Jon stiffens. 

Shit. 

The Supers have super hearing, and Damian’s still probably a sore spot for everyone. 

Just before Dick can question about Nightwing’s death, on rolls to a stop. “Close your eyes,” he says, tacking on a sorry soon after. Dick obliges. He hopes Bruce does too. Jon drops their hands, but reaches back a moment later. Something rolls open. He doesn’t tell them to open their eyes, so Dick keeps them close. Jon leads them forward, and immediately, Dick recognises the smell of the place they're in. Musty, damp. The Batcave. They’re using the cave as their base of operations?

Of course they would. 

“Hey, B-boy!” Jon yells, before saying, “you can open your eyes.” 

Dick does, expecting the same old vave. What he gets is something nearly three times larger. There’s more space in the center, lined with more vehicles that Dick cares to count. They’ve all got a reoccuring theme- Beat up, covered in spikes and neon green spray paint. Undercover vehicles, no doubt. The Batcomputer ahead has grown a few sizes, monitoring different sectors of Gotham and others displaying some of Arkham’s more dangerous ex-patients. Bane’s profile is marked with a deep red stamp, right over top his picture, that reads off deceased. 

The glass cases hosting the Bat-clan’s fallen uniforms has been moved, now showing Bruce’s old cowl, Dick’s Nightwing uniform, and so many others he can’t name. One’s nothing more than a brown one piece with orange stripes on the side, gloves and a mask. Towards the end is Damian’s old Robin outfit, shoved over there like it doesn’t even matter. It should be in the dead center with the rest of the Batfamily’s fallen members, Dick thinks, and makes a note to yell at Tim/Jason/Batman for it. Family should stick together, even if it’s only their old legacies that stay by each other's sides. 

The other platforms scattered around the cave’s walls are hard to see. There’s more than there used to be, all covered with discarded training weapons and dummies, with cots for sleeping. What an upgrade. 

“B-boy!” Jon tries, cupping his hands around his mouth “I know you’re here! We’ve got prisoners!” 

The voice that responds is low, older, but not overly so. It can’t be Tim or Jason- then who? “Then send them to the cells,” this Batman says. “Why on Earth do I-” 

Oh, Dick knows the exact moment that Batman sees the two of them. Is it really that big of a crime to dress up as Nightwing or Batman around here? Jeez. 

“Take off those damn masks,” Batman hisses, dropping from his perch atop one of the lower platforms. He’s- He’s tiny. Smaller than Jon by nearly a whole foot! “How dare you tarnish the fallen’s legacies like this! Did the Joker put you up to this? Harley? Catwoman’s not normally this cruel.” 

“We can explain,” Dick defends. Bruce gives him a grunt and that’s all the conformation that Dick needs. He tears off his mask. Bruce pulls down his cowl. 

Jon recognises them immediately, taking half a step back. “Mr. Wayne?” he says, soft. “And- And Dick-? They weren’t- You two weren’t imposters-? How did you survive? We saw both of you die-” 

Bruce steps up, holding out his cuffs to Batman. “We’re not your Batman and Robin,” he explains. “Not yet. We’ve come from the past. A miscalculation while trying to travel through time brought us here.” He waves his wrists. “Now, Batman. If you’d be so kind as to let us know who decided to carry on the cowl? You aren’t Tim or Jason.” 

“B-” Jon whispers, and it sounds wrong. “You should-” 

“I know,” Batman interrupts. He reaches out, pulling off his glove, and unlocks Bruce’s cuffs. He does the same for Dick, with shaking hands. Then, his hand snakes up to his mask.

“You don’t have to,” Jon reminds. 

“I know.” 

Batman pulls off his cowl. Glassy green eyes- for the first time in near months- peer right back at Dick.