#nobody told me that it would be so hard to get the characterisation right on a character that has never cried in canon before

[stevebabey]

s3 post mallfire angst just hit 5k words and steve has only just started crying everybody say wahoo

[ssaalexblake]

Even aside from how funny the snw/lwd crossover was, it spoke to me as somebody who has been irritated with the fandom (that i can avoid less and less these days because of algorithms). 

Lower Decks has often been described as what would happen if star trek nerds got to actually be in starfleet. The quad of main characters are Massive starfleet nerds, and they also represent the fans who are more technical about it with their appreciation for ship models and engineering, but also the ones who’re fannish over the characters as well. 

So Boimler and Mariner going back in time to see these characters and being freaked out and disappointed that most of them are not the people they learnt about in the history books was Soothing. 

Pike and Una, the oldest of the bunch were more or less how Boimler and Mariner were expecting. They’ve already Done a lot of the things they’re famous for even if they’ve not done all of them.

But the younger ones whose stories we as the audience already know from other trek shows were not how they thought they would be. They are young, this is a prequel, the aim of a prequel is to explain how the story/characters ended up how they are when you meet them in the original media. Therefore, they’re not done cooking yet and are different right now. 

The differences in Spock and Uhura whom were most focused on were noted in different ways, Boimler was freaked out about Spock’s newfound decision to try and explore his emotions simply because this part of his story never hit a history book. Mariner told uhura how she’s remembered by history and some of it fit and some of it didn’t simply because Uhura’s still really young and she’s not grown to be the person she will yet. 

And Boimler was cut up about this at first, it took some time for him to come to terms with the fact that the stories he’d read about these people did not show him everything about them. Mariner had a different reaction, she saw Uhura is young and has so much to come that maybe she just needs a little help. But in the end they both saw the same thing. 

And i’ve been perpetually irritated by both the ‘they’re trying so hard to be tos and failing’ and the ‘why are they so different to tos this is bad characterisation’ crowds bc both fail to miss the point that A) this show is not trying to be TOS, it’s trying to write a story that will eventually Lead to TOS which is an entirely different thing, and B) no it’s not TOS on Purpose and the stories are as they are because it would be bad writing of a TV show, and in general a poor understanding of human growth and evolution, to do carbon copies of the OG characters and put them in all these situations and not have them evolve at all during the whole show. 

They’re not supposed to be like their future selves. They’re supposed to evolve Into them, which is an entirely different assignment and one they’re not failing at imo. If you judge the show for doing something it’s not trying to do, of course it’ll get a fail grade. 

I like lower decks bc for how silly it is, it is also smart. I think this episode was a very concise addressing some of the unfair complaints aimed at SNW while Also connecting to the SNW characters’ plots and being a wild funny ride at the same time. SNW is a prequel, the thing about prequels is they have to balance being able to develop characters to write a good show with engaging stories in its own right, but Have to end at a fixed point. If audiences won’t acknowledge that they won’t see the people they’re familiar with acting the way they’re used to until the end of the prequel, then everybody is gonna go around in circles. 

It’s a prequel and it’s acting like one, nobody has to Like prequels but it’s doing its job as one just fine. 

[legendarybelmont]

heard you weren't feeling too good so how about telling me all about your boys D and Rocambole from VHD for the character opinion bingo? (sorry if i got the names wrong i'm still new to this dsfskksd)

<3 you got the names right hehe

d!!! i LOVE love love d. as one of only three slash four commonly recurring characters in the entire series due to vhds status as incredibly episodic, he is quite literally everyones blorbo, and for good reason because hes amazing. however also due to vhd being written very carefully so as to not ever show what d is actually thinking, ever, at all, 90% of him is left up to interpretation, which breeds a completely insane amount of variety when it comes to opinions om him, and i think thats really lovely. my personal take is that hes largely apathetic to life in general -- much like rocambole (ill get to that), he doesnt particularly enjoy life but also has no intentions of losing his, unlike the sacred ancestor (his vampire god king manwhore mad scientist eugenicist openly suicidal incredibly obsessed really shitty father), and such... however i think one thing that is plainly obvious about d is that he is trying very hard to get all the money ever and win at capitalism. d kind of functions more as a vehicle for other characters to develop than develops himself, at least obviously so, which means you really have to read between the lines, but the fratricide arc (best 'arc' and only 'arc') is really good for implicit possibly unintentional d character development :) my favourite d characterisation moments are probably the "what have i imparted to you, my only success?" speech in armageddon, and "if youre going to regret something, dont do it in the first place" from on the night road. however! one thing i get very salty about regarding d is, due to the movies lacking the context for d's family issues and therefore almost the entire core of the books story, and also softening d a lot from his book horrible self, common interpretations from people who only watched the movies (which are good i swear) or dont respect the books (i understand not liking them, but respecting them is different) usually end up treating him like alucard 2, which is just... wrong. its wrong.

lord rocambole!!! my beloved glup shitto!! my favouritest little bastard that nobody else remembers or cares about!!! the most forgettable brother from the fratricide arc!!! the most half-baked brother!!! the most missed opportunity ever!!! the most obvious prototype character for what would later be valcua ever!!! this wont be as long as d's commentary because ive already rambled a lot about rocambole in other posts, but i adore him, i really do, hes my terrible wife. despite being known, apparently, as a "god of atrocity" and a born mass murderer, bastard son of the sacred ancestor (the only one of the 5 actually specified to be a bastard son which is crazy), hes... well, he's certainly nowhere near as bad as lawrence "death toll of 5 million+, chucked a planetoid at the earth, tortures people for fun" valcua, in personality and what we see actually described of him, but valcua certainly doesnt get such nasty titles. rocambole is woefully underdescribed, unlike valcua we're never told exactly what he did to earn his fate and moniker, and his personality and actions onscreen can actually read as respectable! hes polite, has no personal issues with d, and is scarily well-adjusted for a vhd character in his area, all things considered, accepting his inevitable death by the sacred ancestors degree in a way valcua simply couldnt, and etc. my favourite thing about him is how he acts as a kindred spirit of a kind to d: both not particularly wanting their life but also hating the idea of just giving it away for no reason, both knowing that they cant fight openly against the sacred ancestors will but still rebelling in every way they can just to make their own will known -- ive gone into more detail about that part specifically in another post. needless to say, i love rocambole :)

actually, ive seen a sudden boost in awareness of him recently, which is really really great -- ive seen people actually drawing him!! and since you follow me, youve seen my spam reblogs of said art, oops :p but it makes me really happy to see :)

[florallylly]

I don't agree that Nancy hated Robin at the beginning of s4. She was extremely stressed at the library after finding out her friend died, and then this girl she doesn't know wouldn't shut up. She was more irrated by Robin than hating her. Tho, she should have clarified and communicated with her after Robin told her about her struggles. Or at least Nancy should have apologized after the library. Idk if it's on the show or if it's Nancy characterisation at this point, but she has a pattern for not apologizing properly. If you compare her to Steve, who immediately clocked that he went too far when he insulted Dustin in the car and apologized right after, it's quite the difference. Tho Steve always has to atone for his character from s1, the show never lets us forget he was an ass in hs. Meanwhile, Nancy gets a free pass for everything. People still love her despite her treating them like shit

Anyway, s4 Robin was so ooc. If Steve would have had this attitude towards her in s3 (even in s4), she wouldn't have let it slide, let alone still wanting to talk to him or trying to befriend him. They butchered her character in order to avoid conflict.

What's also annoying to me about every Nancy ship is that she's the important part. It's always the question of who is the best for her, esp in the fandom. R//nance is the best for her because she's finally free from men, and Robin is the only person who gets her. J//ncy is the only real ship because Jonathan gets her as they are trauma bonded, or St//ncy is the best ship because Steve loves so much, more than Jonathan. Her romantic partners are always reduced to options. There are no questions about Nancy being the right one for Robin, Steve, or Jonathan. It's partly the shows fault because nobody has any negative feelings towards her and they all seem to be obsessed with her but ugh I wish at least in fandom they would also look at her potential partners as actual characters for once. Like no she wouldn't be right for Robin because Robin needs someone who can communicate clearly and who would understand her quirks. And no Nancy wouldn't be the right one for Steve because Steve wants to be loved unconditionally, that's something Nancy can't give him because there is still Jonathan and the trauma of losing Barb. And Nancy isn't even that great for Jonathan either because she can't understand his financial struggles and trauma from being parentified at a young age, which was shown in s3 after her nonpology. (Tho I'm also not a J//ncy fan because Jonathan isn't a catch either for Nancy.) It's like the post you reblogged, we need more episodes in the show so that the characters can develop and we see actual personal conflicts. But because there is no time, everyone has to be best buddies to be united against the main villain.

YES you word it so well. nancy is always put first in fics AND in canon, and all her love interests are just options. they've definitely become more like set pieces or props in her story, which is such a shame. what i hate about fandom spaces and interpretations of canon is that it can be so hard to try and introduce nuance to a character that is beloved to fans. which!!! makes no sense to me bc the duffers wrote a multifaceted flawed character, but nancy is often reduced to the perception that she's the Good Girl.

and yes, i admit i was pretty hyperbolic in saying that nancy HATED robin, but i also think that what with the st/ancy flirting, there was also a hint of jealousy. i think nancy thought in the back of her mind that steve would always be her fallback.

AND YES to robin being so ooc in s4 bc she's literally a jackass (affectionately) and so snarky and a BITCH. like she's steve and steve is her and they are both mean girls at their cores. your entire analysis about the different nancy ships is just MWAH <3

[wri0thesley]

nat... please.... i know dottore has you in a death grip but... consider with me just for a moment...

pantalone, a man who loves opulence and excess as natural extensions of his; if money is power, filigree, ornaments, elegance-- those are all weapons. there's no point in /having/ if you can't flaunt what you have, and he loves nothing more than flaunting /you/.

nat… please…. i know dottore has you in a death grip but… pantalone… chubby reader…. consider with me just for a moment…

pantalone, a man who loves opulence and excess as natural extensions of his influence; if money is power, filigree, ornaments, elegance-- those are all weapons. the more useless and unnecessary a decoration, the more he loves it. there's no point in /having/ if you can't flaunt what you have, and he loves nothing more than flaunting /you/.

you! so lucky, having a patron like him (as he reminds you, coached as a compliment, but intended as a warning). why, before he deigned to keep company with you, you were a nobody. nothing! all you had to your name was a Vision and the determination not to freeze to death. and now-- now, look at you! hanging off his arm at fatui functions, casually wearing clothes worth enough to feed you for a year. eating foods you can't pronounce the names of. being surrounded by snezhnayan aristocrats who all know exactly where you came from, but who smile and compliment your beautiful gown and your lovely, lovely necklace.

so lucky, he says, as they flit away, his hand squeezing your ample hip. i'm so lucky to have you.

you don't have to work anymore; you've tried. other ladies help with charitable works, you'd argued with him once, looking for something-- anything-- to do that isn't the endless, intolerable society functions. why can't you do the same? and he smiled, cupped your round cheek, and told you not to worry; he would take care of it. the next day, it was in all the handbills: a new poorhouse to be established, funded by generous private donations… built right on the site of that old tenement you used to call home.

never let it be said he doesn't love beauty in his ornaments, though. the curves of your body, your round cheeks, your soft arms-- he can never keep his eyes away. or his hands; he loves to run them over your shoulders, catching your soft, uncalloused hands in his. and however else you might feel about his oppressive presence or your gilded cage… it is not /so/ bad, to be cherished in excess.

and he asks so very little of you. almost nothing. almost. it's only ever the slightest suggestion, barely more than a passing comment, and more ironclad than any commandment.

i do so love when you wear that necklace, he says. that necklace. you know the one; how could you ever forget? impossibly intricate, overstated golden setting, with a large, unfacted gem. what better use for an ambition recognized by the gods than to treat it like one more tasteless, gaudy decoration?

oh anon i am trying so hard to not get attached to any of the other harbingers yet because a five minute long video and a couple of mentions in voice lines and dialogue is so little to base a character thought on but . . . but i am very attached to this concept of what his characterisation could be like. you're hitting the nail on the head of one of my favourite yandere character types; you know, the 'isn't your life so much better with me here to coddle you from all of the horrors of the world and ensure that you never leave? isn't this safer. isn't this more wantable. aren't you lucky?'. i think - based on how we only see him smiling and the faintly condescending cadence of his voice and his easy eagerness to identify himself as a 'banker' it's a VERY POSSIBLE one. hhh.

i think in a nation like sneznhaya, too - especially existing poor, especially existing in a state in which you're battling for survival every day, let alone happiness - it's even worse and more terrifying, because it truly may be the better option.

but it's cruel, isn't it? that you had such determination; that even beings beyond other planes could see it, and in return for being cherished and being safe and being wanted, what he asks of you is simply to exist without ever realising that full potential. is it all worth it?

[bakugohoex]

“you’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught”

pairing: kento nanami x female reader

cw: fluff, language, established relationship and nsfw (kissing, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, bites and marking, dacryphillia, dumbification, begging, scratching, nipple play, finger sucking, wrist grabbing)

word count: 2200+

information: the great conjunction collab masterlist by @suna-reversed​

a/n: this was v fun to write, hope you guys like this, hopefully i got nanami’s characterisation right

summary: in which after a long mission all you can think about is being with nanami, when you finally get some alone time it seems like a spare room is the best place for your little escapade

↞ back to jujutsu kaisen masterlist

He groaned as he rubbed his eyes, the mission had been a long one but successful. You had gone to get checked up as Nanami went to the bathroom, he leaned his head against the wall looking to his side where the mirror was. Eyes fixated on his ripped blue shirt and cold eyes, he was tired, with the risk of your near injury he was glad you had gotten out without more than a scratch on you.

He walked out as he started the trek to where you were, it was better for the both of you two to head home before it got too dark, and traffic would become a nightmare for the blond. He walked past where the teacher dorms were, he never cared to visit any of their rooms. Seeing no need as he never visited Jujutsu High often and if he did it was if Gojo had somehow dragged him to the place.

Feeling a hand grab his wrist, he turned to see a familiar figure, “y/n?” He questioned before being dragged into a room, he was about to speak when you put a finger on his lips.

“I missed you.” You whispered, the two of you had become separated whilst on the mission and the fact that he was right in front of you, right in your grasp to take. All pretty as he held his tie and suit jacket in his hands, how could you not resist the way he looked.

He raised an eyebrow as you stared at his lips, “miss me enough that you couldn’t wait till we got home?”

“Nope.” You muttered as you grabbed a hold of his lapels hoping to bring him down, you wanted to devour him in a second.

He rolled his eyes before putting his jacket and tie on the chair before grabbing your face in his hands. His lips meshed into your own as you felt nothing but pure lust for him, he saw the bandage around your arm hoping that the next activity you were about to go through wouldn’t be too strenuous on your muscles.

Pushing you backwards as he remained kissing you, he assumed the room to be a spare one. Almost glad nobody occupied the room as it would make being caught an awkward situation. At the least the two of you could have some time for yourself, sex had been put off for the past week after the planning of a case that had occurred an hour away. With it finally being done the sexual tension between the two of you could finally be accomplished.

“Please Kento…I need you…” You whispered as you felt the bed behind you, he licked his lips as he couldn’t help but stare at how pretty you looked pleading for him.

He gave a soft smile as he replied, “I’ll give you everything you want darling.”

You felt his hands move to your shoulders, pushing you back on the bed as you felt his hands move down to your sides, one of his legs kneeled between your legs as the other spread them apart. He watched you squirm as he grabbed your wrists in one of his hands, “hurry up Ken…”

His interruption of his other hand moving to your chest, he undid the buttons of your shirt as it slipped off your body. The way his fingers skimmed past each curve of your breasts, his fingers working nimbly across your hard tit. “You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught,” his comment was serious knowing that others were still awake and that when you whined it was loudly. “That means no whining either.”

Even if it had been a while since the two of you had had sex, your boyfriend never seemed to have a high sex drive. But when sex did occur for the two of you, it was always as passionate as ever and led to you unable to walk for a day.

You shut your mouth watching as his tongue circled your nipples, the way saliva dripped from your nipple to his mouth. His hand remained tight against your wrists pulling them towards the top of your head.

His other hand seemed to be moving down towards your trousers, waiting to unbutton them and take them off your body. But instead you watched him undo his shirt buttons with one hand, it was a skill and it more than emphasised the fact Nanami was good with his fingers.

His shirt fell from his body as he slipped it off, his hand moving to your wrist as he took the other sleeve off. You always loved his toned body, the way his body looked perfect to you, even with the occasional scars that littered his body. It was always going to be perfect for you, and it was all yours.

His hand moved to his hair, bringing his fingers into his hair leaving a blond mess on top of his head. Occasional strands moving to his forehead as he undid your trousers, feeling the way you cunt was already dripping for him. “Your stupid cunt is already wet for me, pathetic.”

The way your underwear dampened more proved just how turned you on with his words, he raised his eyebrow before moving his finger past your clit through your underwear. He could already feel the slick that you held in your cunt and couldn’t wait to fuck it out of you. “Kento…”

You whined once more, “what did I say? Sweetheart? No…” He put one finger past your underwear and into your cunt, “fucking…” as he brought his first finger out he inserted another as he thrusted into you “whining…” at his last word a third finger was added to your cunt.

You gave a loud moan as you back arched to fit the three of his fingers inside your cunt, he didn’t want to finger you, much rather having you cum on his cock. But the way you could only move through your body riled him up, your wrists still unable to move as your legs stayed parted with his own. A perfect sight to ruin, his fingers remained pumping back and forth and your underwear had been dragged down to one of your ankles.

“Beg!” It was a command as he stopped pumping, licking his fingers as he was able to taste your slick.

You stared up at him, watching his hands move away from your wrists, his fingers undoing his trousers as he was ready to have his way with you. “Plea…please I need you…I need you in me…Kento…”

Tears filled your eyes as your cunt felt swollen from the impact of three fingers, the way your nipples were puffed after his mouth had played with them. You were about to get to your knees, go straight for his boxers. But as he took his place back between your legs, you stayed lying on your back, “more.”

His words were short as he grabbed your wrists once more, bringing it right on top of your head. His other hand moved to the side of your face as he kneeled in front, his body staying right on top as you could feel his hardened cock brush against your clit. He moved down as his mouth went on top of your own, you were about to kiss him when he spoke, “I told you to beg.”

“Please, I’…I’ll do anything…for you…” Your voice and breath fanned his mouth as he kissed you once more. His tongue gliding against your own as he carried his body with one hand and his knee, you really did look prettying begging for him.

He let go of your hands as he pulled his boxers down, his cock instantly gliding against your clit as you gave a moan. Your hands moved to his hair and back, already gripping onto him, as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Stupid girl,” he whispered softly as he kissed your neck, inserting his cock into your cunt. The instant he felt your cunt engulph him, he let out a groan onto your neck, “my…stupid girl.”

He paced himself as he thrusted into you, each time going further back, wanting to hit the back of your cervix within a couple of thrusts. “Kento.” You moaned loudly as you grabbed the back of his hair, the way strands fell between your fingers. His mouth moved to your collar as he began leaving marks across your collarbone, his hand had found itself playing with your nipples as you moaned his name multiple times.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t obsessed with hearing you moan his name; it was the only name you’d ever be moaning. He was the only man who’d ever fuck you stupid, go so deep into you that you lose your form of speech. “Ke….” Each thrust led to less and less words coming from your voice until it was gargles of “more” and “please”. Which anybody who was listening probably couldn’t understand, Nanami knew though, he knew what his girl was saying, what she wanted.

“I’ll give you…more.” He groaned as his thrusts became rapid, your nails trailing down his back leaving distinctive marks across his skin. His hair a mess from all your pulling and worst of all the way you had become fragile under his body.

At each thrust another loose word came out that was not understandable, the way you whined and moaned incoherently. Begged and sobbed as his cock hit the back of your cervix at each thrust, until you finally spoke a word clearly, “c…cum.”

He gave out a smirk as he moved his lips up your neck to your jaw and finally to your mouth. Kissing you softly, a sigh for you to cum for him, that he wanted to fuck you through all your cum. The coil in your stomach slipped away as white cum gushed out, becoming trapped with his cock as he used it as lube to continue fucking into you. Your moans quietened down as his groans engulphed the room, “fuck….”

You kissed him, his tongue remaining in your mouth and saliva and your previous slick was still a taste you felt in your mouth. “Fuck…Y/n…” He felt his own cum gush out as your cunt filled with both of your cums, the way you dropped the cum out onto the bed as he got out of you, collapsing beside you.

“Still all dumb for me.” He muttered as his arms moved to your body, he would clean up later, wanting to rest with you for at least 10 minutes.

You looked at him with dry tears down your face, the way his eyes looked at you softly. The way you turned to your side, cum still dripping from your cunt. Both of you not caring as you felt him wrap his arms around you, “n…no.” You barely formed a feeling partially out of it from the high of cumming and being filled with Nanami.

“You did good darling.” He kissed your forehead as he dragged the blanket on top of the two of you as you snuggled closer to his naked body.

He had expected at least 10 minutes before you got up to get changed, you both would probably end up spending the night at the school. But you both knew you weren’t sleeping in cum filled sheets, the way your body was littered with bite and marks and his own with scratches could be seen as near sadistic.

“What the fuck?” Both you and Nanami whipped your head to the door, it was open, and a white-haired man stood there. “You both couldn’t wait till you got home, you guys fucked in my room.”

“What?” Nanami muttered, Gojo turned the light on as he walked in, glad that the two of you were covered. As soon as the light flickered open the two of you saw how the room was most definitely Gojo’s and how with the littered posters and clothes that he wore. You both had most definitely not fucked in a spare room.

“I am so sorry.” You muttered to Gojo as you tried to look up at him over Nanami’s shoulder.

Gojo rolled his eyes as he stared at you both, “is he good at least?”

“Get out.” Nanami commanded as soon as he heard the comment.

“Does that mean he’s shit, Y/n?” Gojo chuckled as he saw Nanami’s face become pissed off in a matter of seconds, “don’t worry I’ll leave you love birds.” As he closed the door his face whipped to the side as you and Nanami both watched the crazed man, “he’s shit.”

Gojo had mouthed the words to you as you chuckled, Nanami had been ready to throw a pillow at the man but Gojo swiftly left you chuckled at how the room seemed brighter with the light on. “We’re leaving,” he had gotten up grabbing his boxers as he slipped them on.

“Why Kento?” You whined as you just wanted to sleep, all Nanami could see was Gojo’s infatuation with actresses and models he could barely recognise. The man whore, Nanami looked down at the bed seeing how pretty you looked sprawled on the bed.

You chuckled as he went over to close the light and collapsed once more beside you. “I hate both of you.”

“No you don’t now come here.” You chuckled once more as he moved closer, feeling your bare body pressed against him, he watched you move on top of his chest, cuddling right into his form. “I love you.”

He kissed the top of your head before replying, “I love you too.”

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[ouyangzizhensdad]

What keeps stumping me is this: LWJ takes WWX to the Cloud Recesses to protect him from JC, then, when they leave with the arm, he keeps dragging him back when WWX tries to escape to, again, protect him from JC... But then, after the Xinglu Ridge, he lets him go and trusts that WWX will meet him back at the inn. Why? And anyway, what was he planning to do, drag WWX around all his life? He had duties, he couldn't have followed WWX himself to provide protection, so it would have been exactly [1/2]

that — dragging him around or leaving him shielded behind the walls of the Cloud Recesses. In theory, if "MXY" became a Lan disciple, JC couldn't have touched him... But LWJ knew who "MXY" was and that WWX would mostly refuse, like he did multiple times before. It's great that after WWX realizes LWJ doesn't intend to harm or punish him, he goes along willingly — but what if he didn't? What then? JC was still out there, after all. [2/2]

Hi anon,

I think it's a little bit of a stretch to imagine LWJ's plan was to just keep 'dragging' WWX along forever. They arrived in the CR, spent one night there, and the next day LWJ was busy with the arm which was of course a priority. What would have happened if the Lans had been able to suppress the resentful energy of the arm on that day, and LWJ had not felt the responsibility to leave to solve the mystery? It's hard to say. But now that they were in a place that was safe, and that there wouldn't have been another matter that would have taken priority, I don't think it's far fetched to believe that LWJ would have discussed things with WWX or put into place a way to bring him to a safe place outside of the CR if he did not want to stay. Considering his grief over his mother, and her situation, as well as his care for WWX’s welfare, I’m wary to believe his gameplan could ever be just ‘guess I’ll keep WWX in the CR, even if against his will, forever, bc jc is out there’.

I think it's important as well to remember that regardless of LWJ's motives, WWX does not choose to remain with him because of the protection LWJ can provide him, or simply because he suddenly decided to trust him out of a single demonstration of trustworthiness.

Even before they left the CR, WWX's words and actions revealed he was attached to and protective of LWJ--even as a crisis is occurring, his thoughts keep going back to LWJ, and whether he is okay:

When the bell of the watchtower started ringing on its own, it only meant one thing—that an accident happened to the people performing the summoning ritual inside. [...]

Seeing that Lan Wangji did not appear, Wei Wuxian had a foreboding feeling. If Lan Wangji were still in the Cloud Recesses, he would have hurried over immediately, as he heard the alarming chimes of the bell, unless…

Suddenly, the black door burst open with a bang. A white-clothed disciple rushed outside, staggering and stumbling.

[...]

Wei Wuxian grabbed his hand at once, speaking in a low voice, “Which being’s spirit are you summoning? Who else is inside? Where’s Hanguang-jun?!”

It seemed as if the disciple had trouble breathing, “Hanguang-jun told me to run away…”

[...]With the hastily created bamboo flute still by his waist, he went up the stairs in just a few strides. He kicked the door of the mingshi and commanded, “Open!”

WWX is the one who offers to go with LWJ, but of course we know it was because he thought it would be an opportunity to get away.

The few nodded, “Okay! Are you going to travel down the mountain?”

Lan Wangji gave a slight nod. Wei Wuxian had already stealthily shifted behind him, talking to himself in a loud, cheerful way, “Yes, yes, yes, we can finally get off this mountain and elope together!”

[...] Wei Wuxian originally wanted to sneak away during their expedition off the mountain. However, even though he attempted to run away multiple times, it always ended with Lan Wangji carrying him back with one hand holding the back of his collar. He changed his strategy, sticking to Lan Wangji as hard as he could. At night, especially, he would persistently climb into Lan Wangji’s bed, with the intention that Lan Wangji would become disgusted and use his sword to throw him away. Despite this, no matter how hard he messed around, Lan Wangji steadily stood his ground. Whenever Wei Wuxian wriggled into his blankets, he would use a light slap to make Wei Wuxian’s body rigid, and then stuff him into the other set of blankets in a proper position, where he would remain until daylight broke. Wei Wuxian suffered a ton of losses and complaint about his sore body after he woke up. He could not help but think: Now that he grew up, he also became less fun than before. In the past, he would become shy whenever he was teased, not to mention that he did it in quite an amusing way. But now, not only does he remain unmovable no matter what, he even learned how to counterattack. How can this be?!

However, in the same chapter, as they have spent more time together, WWX starts hating the idea of being separated from LWJ, although he cannot yet put into words why he feels this way:

After walking for some distance, Wei Wuxian unintentionally turned around and looked. Lan Wangji was behind him, still standing at the same place, staring toward his direction.

Wei Wuxian could not help but slow his footsteps.

He could not tell why, but he vaguely felt that he should not walk so fast, should not be leaving Lan Wangji behind like this.

We can also to a degree concur that WWX already feels safe enough around LWJ to seek him as a source of safety and comfort when faced with a dog, which happens a lot during the Xinglu Ridge arc, to the point that he unconsciously calls for him when JC sics Fairy on him while LWJ is away. WWX is also protective of LWJ in his own way even at that point:

Wei Wuxian immediately understood whose name he had unconsciously called out.

“It really is quite curious how far he went to protect you,” Jiang Cheng smiled menacingly, “back on Dafan Mountain.”

A moment later, he corrected himself, “No. You weren’t necessarily the one whom Lan Wangji was protecting. After all, the GusuLan Sect couldn’t have forgotten what you did with that loyal dog of yours. How could someone so celebrated for his righteousness tolerate the likes of you? Maybe he’s familiar with this body that you stole instead.”

His words were cruel and sinister. Every sentence seemed well-meaning on the surface, but was actually derogatory. Wei Wuxian could not bear with it any longer.

“Watch your language.”

“I’ve never cared for such things, don’t you remember?” Jiang Cheng responded,

“Oh, right.” Wei Wuxian mocked.

Although WWX tells LWJ that he would meet him back after they separated, he could have easily chosen not to do it. After all, compared to all the tricks he tried to flee before, it would have been nothing to go back on this 'promise'. He was in a forest, at night, where no one but JL knew he was. He could have left at any time. And when LWJ left, he knew this--that WWX would potentially not come back, hence why his expression is so shaken after having waited hours for WWX to return (now we can wonder how long he would have stayed on that bridge, waiting, hoping). But, again, solving the mystery of the arm took priority over ensuring WWX's safety (and, considering WWX managed to be discovered and taken by JC during these few hours, it's not like his fears were unfounded).

While WWX seems to realise that LWJ is on his side, there is no big moment of thinking "he doesn't want to punish/harm me". Likewise, there is no considerations of how JC could be looking for him after his escape and the dangers inherent in that. It seems almost like another unconscious decision.

He had always thought that Jiang Cheng would be on his side, and Lan Wangji on the side opposite to him. He could never have imagined that things would turn out so differently.

Wei Wuxian walked toward the rendezvous point where he and Lan Wangji were supposed to meet. Nobody walked among the sparse lights that flickered in the night. Without having to look around, a white-robed figure stood at the end of the street, standing motionless with his head hung low.

In conclusion, WWX would have never stayed alongside LWJ (or anyone else for that matter) simply for protection. As well, it is extremely unlikely that LWJ's thought process at this point of the narrative was 'I'll just drag WWX along for the rest of our lives''--but that the arm took priority over resolving the conundrum around WWX's safety, and that indeed, when the situation presented itself, he put first what I'll call his night hunting duties for a lack of a better term while taking the risk that WWX would decide to leave on his own. Is it the most 'healthy' way of approaching the situation? Honestly, I don't care. Instead I think it’s much more important to wonder: is it coherent with the characterisation, the characters' motivations and the unfolding of the plot?

[wellbelesbian]

Live Again

day four of @carry-on-sapphic-week, today’s prompts are family and storm!

thank you @nonbaznary for the idea to write about Daphne, this fic is for you!

this is gonna be a few chapters long, i’ll try to post them all in good time.

read on ao3 or under the cut

From the moment she met Malcolm, Daphne knew her life was going to get complicated. He was a political figurehead in a world in the brink of war, with a martyred wife, and loose cannons for a son and sister-in-law. But she couldn’t help loving him.

Her family told her he was bad news. Sure, he was rich, and his magic was strong, but by marrying him, she would be embroiled in the power struggles and betrayals that had characterised the World of Mages since Natasha’s death.

Not to mention Natasha… She knew that she would always be subject to her peers’ stares and whispers, always be seen as second best, a replacement for the great Natasha Pitch.

But Malcolm never once treated her that way. He would always love Natasha, and always grieve her, but he loved Daphne just as strongly, and never compared them. If there’s one thing Daphne is good at, it’s reading people, and she knew that he loved them both equally. Even Baz, who she had been so worried would reject her, see her as a pale replacement or an intruder, called her mother, confided in her, and hugged her tightly every time he left for Watford in the autumn.

Still, sometimes, in those early days, Malcolm would retreat into himself, and grieve. Daphne had tried to explain to him once that he could love two people, but he had looked at her so confusedly that she had decided it was better to drop the matter.

It’s hard to drop the matter when it’s standing right in front of you.

She’s long past trying to get her head around it. Baz had just rattled off some long and complicated explanation about Visitings and rituals and sacrifice, which sounded alarming, and now Natasha Pitch is standing in their living room, looking around confusedly while everyone argues.

Baz and Malcolm are fighting furiously, but keeping their voices low. Simon and Fiona are both shouting. Baz keeps interrupting his own argument to mediate his aunt and his boyfriend’s, and nobody is paying any attention to the actual source of all their ire.

She’s not what Daphne had expected. Sure, she looks the part, almost perfectly resembling the portrait of her hanging in the hall. But she’s quiet, letting the argument play out without her. She actually looks sort of shell-shocked. Daphne supposes that being brought back from the dead might do that to you.

She skirts around the room to where Natasha is standing, and oh so gently takes her by the arm. Natasha allows her to lead her from the room, through to the kitchen, where Daphne sits her at the breakfast table and starts making tea.

After a few minutes, Natasha seems to find her words.

“Excuse me…” Daphne turns to face her. “What year is it?”

“2017.”

“Merlin.”

“Yeah… Are you…” Natasha meets her eyes, and it feels as though a bucket of cold water has been tipped over her head. “Are you okay?”

It’s probably a stupid question. Natasha Pitch, the woman who died in an inferno, is now living and breathing again, seemingly unharmed and not having aged a day. How could she possibly be okay? But what else can she say in this situation?

The kettle begins to whistle, and she goes to take it off the hob and brew the tea. She hopes Natasha likes tea.

“I don’t know how to answer that. I remember dying. And then it’s like… I just woke up again, a moment later. And my son was there, safe, but… All grown up.” Daphne turns to her with a mug, just as Natasha’s face suddenly crumples, and she covers it with her hands as she begins to shake with silent tears. “I missed so much.”

She places the mugs down on the table, then slips into the seat beside Natasha and hesitantly rubs her back, in what she hopes is a reassuring gesture. It works for Baz, and it slowly seems to work on Natasha too, as the shaking stops. Eventually, she uncovers her face, wiping at her cheeks with embarrassment. Daphne should offer her a handkerchief, but she doesn’t have one. If anything, Natasha looks more the type to carry one, in her long black dress, and- Circe, she’s still wearing what she was buried in.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Natasha sniffles.

“Oh, it’s okay. My children cry all the time about much less upsetting things.” Don’t talk about your kids, she nearly kicks herself.

“You have children?”

“Uh… yes. Four.”

“That’s nice…” Natasha smiles wanely, wrapping her hands around the steaming mug. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name? Are you a friend of Fiona’s?”

Oh boy.

“I’m Daphne. I’m… Uh… Okay, there’s no easy way to say this. So I’ll just say it, and then if you want to throw your tea in my face, I’ll understand. I’m Malcolm’s wife.”

Natasha just stares at her.

“His second wife.”

Continued staring. Daphne looks down.

“I’m sorry.”

That seems to snap her out of it.

“No, no, please, don’t be sorry! I… I understand. After all, I was dead.”

Daphne looks back up and meets Natasha’s eyes, and after a beat, they both burst out into hysterical laughter. Daphne is pretty sure they’re each having a nervous breakdown. It’s probably overdue.

“I’m sorry, Merlin, I’m so sorry.” She wheezes between laughs, trying and failing to get control of herself. “You just said it so bluntly…” She dissolves into giggles again. Natasha all but cackles.

“What on earth is going on in here?” Comes a voice from the doorway,and they both look up to see Malcolm looking at them with concern. Daphne’s laughter cuts off with a splutter, and Natssha takes a deep breath to calm herself.

“Oh, us?” Natasha asks. “Daphne and I were just getting to know each other. It’s so lovely to meet someone with whom I have so much in common.”

Malcolm’s face sends them both right back into laughing fits.

[phantomchick]

Challenge: list the WIPs you promised you’d update, and why you haven’t yet

I was tagged by my darling mutual and friend @frownyalfred!

This one seems fun so I'll tag a bunch of people:

@whetstonefires @mikkeneko @lurkinglurkerwholurks @audreycritter @boostergoldsmissingarm @medusaceratops @unpretty @audreycritter @sohotthateveryonedied @oh-mother-of-darkness @huilian @yuzukimist

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I tell myself I don't need anybody (But the truth is nobody needs me)

The reason for this one is actually justifiable! Because of my gameplan for the plot of the fic in order to continue it I need to finish my readthrough of ALL of the modern captain atom comics, a bunch of the crisis event chemo Bludhaven comics and maybe a couple of other ancillary comics of that era too, before I even get to writing the nitty gritty of the fic!

Unfortunately my online readthrough stalled for a while because of IRL difficulties and I've yet to get back into my swing there. Nonetheless I'm still very hyped for this fic once I have everything ready for it.

The second chapter of this is actually all but ready to publish!

Due to the fact it's plot relevant but not connected to either the Captain Atom/Chemo Drop canon which I'm still in the process of untangling for the sake of the plot.

The only things left to worry about for the second chapter before I publish is if it A. breaks up the mood of the fic that was set up in chapter 1 too much, it's a bit of an interlude so the mood is drastically different from the gritty feel of the first chapter and B. some minor characterisation details in the dialogue of one of the characters towards the end of the second chapter. Basically it just needs a little more editing on a paragraph or two and then we're set to post.

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Maelstrom

I actually told people I was unlikely to update it until I got some inspiration so this maybe doesn't quite fit the bill of the challenge.

Nonetheless, the major reason I haven't updated this one is I thought of a way to start off the second chapter after waking up one day but didn't write it down so I forgot and now every time I attempt to start it there's a vague but strong sense of subconscious dis-satisfaction.

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Call Me

I actually came to several conclusions recently about just why it is I've struggled to update this when I said I would!

_

I wrote the first chapter of this wip like 3 years ago and haven't updated it since (god that feels really terrible to say! I'm sorry you guys) but anyway I wrote it three years ago and have been poking at it forlornly ever since as the comments pile up unanswered (Again I'm so sorry haha).

Suddenly! Hope shone! And I wrote 2k of the second chapter out of nowhere just last week!

Now I really don't wanna lose that momentum and, well, hope to ride it enough to actually get the fic's second part done!

But at the same time it's hard to write when you don't really have any desires for scenes you can't wait to include or get to. At least that's what I've found about myself. Like I mostly just want to resolve the fic which I didn't in the first chapter but that's not very concrete as writing motivation goes y'know? Or not concrete enough to INSPIRE apparently.

So it occurred to me oh shit wait I suddenly know why writing this is such a struggle!

Originally when I wrote that first chapter of Call Me it was because I was inspired by @firefrightfic and @skalidra's co written fic Raw Nerve

Which is an abo fic wherein Jason Todd (robin of my heart) gets assaulted by Black Mask and calls Roy for help from the safety of one of his safehouses and then Roy comes in and like helps Jason recover and then helps him kill black mask - which, great fic just super well written and fun

But I was like, Craving the batdad hardcore at the time because the combined excellence @audreycritter, @medusaceratops, @fuyunoakegata and @cerusee were spoiling me with that!

So I wanted to write a version with the same premise but if Jason had called Bruce instead of Roy? And where it wasn't ABO though I only really changed that bit because I have no idea how to write that especially (or how to write in general) so I decided to make things easier on myself at least a little bit

AND THUS!

In the first chapter I already had Jason call Bruce and got to have Bruce have that major moment of r e a l i s a t i o n that was so fun in the fic I was originally drawing inspiration from, y'know?

So now it's like gah, I got the realisation whump and the hurt/comfort already what else do I want here?

Because honestly Bruce ain't gonna kill black mask this we know and writing someone beat the shit out of a rapist while fun in theory isn't actually something that gets my muse to perk up?

So right now the way I'm approaching the wip is just, thinking up potentially fun scenarios to include in the second chapter and seeing where they take me. At the very least it's melted from the cryofreeze my writer's block placed it in and instead of just chipping at it futilely I feel like I'm writing/making more progress with it again finally.

I know many of the people who love the fic think I left it in a good spot and don't think it necessarily needs a sequel chapter but to me it's unfinished, so I want to complete it no matter what!

[eclecticwordblender]

Part 3 of the Mahabharata High school AU:

(I’ll attach the link to the first two oarts below. Check them out if you haven’t uwu <3.)

Junior students in the limelight:

Abhimanyu:

Is everybody’s favourite- seniors, teachers, principal, classmates, juniors- EVERYONE LOVES HIM.

Is literally perfection.

Very popular.

All the dirty politics which makes the people in school hate each other is put aside when it comes to going to the junior section and pampering Abhi.

Ma’am Kunti once saw Abhimanyu hanging out with Arjuna and Subhadra, she clicked a picture because she couldn’t stop uwu-ing.

Has all the good qualities he looks up to in his seniors.

Is a precious baby who must be protected at all costs.

“I’ll be better than the best someday.”- boy isn’t wrong!

Ghatotkach:

Super tall.

Chubby.

Is sick of being taller than all his classmates.

A senior, Hidimbi tends to use him as a comforting source. It is very wholesome.

Often goes to Bheema because he wants to be just as good at basketball.

“Hidimbi didi, thanks for the amazing food. I’ll now go practice basketball with Bheema bhaiya.”

Iravan:

The nice rich kid.

Always puts others before himself even at this tender age.

Stays mostly to himself.

But one knows he’s going to do wonders when he grows up.

Once Shiva cane to school for a guest lecture and say Iravan offering someone else his lunch and staying hungry himself. Shiva gave him a chocolate and told Iravan that whenever he needs help Shiva is just a call away. Fr though Shiva always checks up on this kid.

“Umm it’s okay. You can have my life too if you want.”

Uttara:

Has a twin brother.

Cute kid.

too mature for her age.

Heart eyes for cutie Abhi. Abhi heart eyes back.

Teachers don’t let her and Abhimanyu sit together because they don’t stop talking and smiling.

Is a pro dancer. Already has a diploma in Kathak.

Kind of emotional. Cries a lot.

But is still strong, regardless.

“No Abhimanyu. We cannot have a play date today. I have my dance performance.”

Uttar:

Uttara’s twin brother.

Overexcited but in a good way.

Brave.

Gets into accidents A LOT.

Uttar’s most visited spot is the infirmary. The person who knows him best is the school nurse.

Uttar always finds ways to miss dance and music and English class.

“Ah! A fracture again! At least I get to skip the annoying girly dance stuff though.”

Vrishaketu:

Abhimanyu’s bestf because they’re so similar.

Tends to be a little attention deprived.

Can make anyone a friend, LITERALLY.

Krishna group and Dury group come together when it comes to meeting this kid.

Arjuna and Karna put aside their differences to train him for soccer together. One can say Arjuna and Karna could’ve been very good friends had it not been for coach Drona.

“I wish Arjun bhaiya and Karna bhaiya didn’t dislike each other so much.”

(I didn’t include any more kids because there isn’t much to write and I don’t want to make this boring. I’ll leave footnotes if I use any other kids in the fic stories later.)

Present day staff:

(that I forgot to mention)

Virata:

Being helpful makes up for 90% of his personality.

Very approachable.

Never turns his students down.

Volunteers to take up a substitute class whenever possible.

“Let me handle this!”

Keechaka:

The only person who finds him tolerable is Sudeshna.

Extremely controlling.

Filled with toxic masculinity.

Pervert 2.0 (1.0 being Dushasana and 3.0 being Jayadaratha).

Keechaka was passing lewd comments to Draupadi. She was on her way to make him face the consequences but before she reached Bheema had already taken care of him ;).

Shalya:

Indecisive and flaky.

Messes up his schedule and ends up in the wrong classes.

Speaks a lot.

Stubborn.

Always confused.

“I don’t know what I’m doing dude!Let alone why!”

Sudeshna:

Toxic Gossip monger.

Can be very selfish.

Turns blind to her bestf, Keechaka’s glaring and problematic flaws.

Created a scene when Bheem gave Keechaka the beating he deserved.

Also defended him when Yuyutsu publicly called out and humiliated Keechaka for disrespecting women.

Hates Draupadi.

Intolerant.

Can be narrow minded.

“Keechaka isn’t wrong. You have a misunderstanding! These are the ways of the world”

Indra:

Coordinator but everyone ignores him.

Probelmatic in all caps.

Has to interfere everywhere.

Shows up at the worst possible times.

Creates unnecessary problems and then plays the victim card.

Sexist.

“This isn’t a woman’s work.”

Vichitravirya:

Grossly incompetent.

Old.

Is in school only because Satyavati insisted.

Irresponsible.

Doesn’t show up to classes and even when he does the students decide to bunk. He doesn’t even find out.

Has a history of showing up to classes drunk.

“No I’m not drunk. You are.”- passes out in the middle of a lecture.

Senior students in the limelight:

(that I couldn’t fit in the previous post)

Devika:

Quiet.

Happy go lucky.

Literally an angel.

Only one in class who finds Yudhishthir somewhat tolerable.

Is dating the head boy. Nobody understands why she thinks he has potential.

Vrushali:

Sorted and organised.

Probably has more kinds of stick notes than books in her school bag.

Highlighted text books.

Courageous.

Calm but will fight you.

Karna’s girlfriend. Only one who can scold him and show him the right thing to do, ngl.

Vrushali tries very hard to get Karna out of the Dury gang, however, doesn’t try to manipulate/control him.

Once Vrushali dragged Karna while he was mid conversation with Duryodhana, planning to pull a mischief that would land him into trouble. Everyone just stared. It was very iconic.

Valandhara:

Mountain girl uwu.

Industrious to the fullest.

The friend who can calm down Bheem.

Independent.

Vijaya:

Straight A student.

Gives Sahadev full on competition in topping the class.

Nerd.

Reads a lot.

Vijaya looks so cute with her oversized glasses barely able to rest on the bridge of her adorable button nose.

Sahadev fell for her over a conversation about the meaning of life. They kind of have a thing going.

“*random classic literature reference*”

Karenumati:

Is well aware about how pretty she is.

Nakul talks to her without hesitation.

A word around the campus says that Nakul might even ask her out soon.

Shishupal spread the word though, can’t say about the credibility.

Although for some reason Shishupal is very protective of her.

Plays bass and drums.

Link to part 1 of Mahabharata high school AU: https://eclecticwordblender.tumblr.com/post/625462681921568768/foundation

Link to part 2 of Mahabharata high school AU: https://eclecticwordblender.tumblr.com/post/625553068102139904/senior-students-in-the-limelight

This is the last post dealing witch characterisation. I’ll be publishing fictional stories after this. Will leave footnotes if I use a character I haven’t mentioned yet. Let me know if you want me to write about a specific character (via asks, comments or direct messages).

Tagging fandom mutuals because I need attention to matter in life: @bigheadedgirlwithbigdreams @supermeh-krishnafan @soniaoutloud @1nsaankahanhai-bkr @lemponkoira @incorrectmahabharatquotes @chaanv @hoeticulture @hindumythologyevent

The support on this series has been overwhelming so shoutout to these people for all the validation: @the-rambling-maiden @muralofmyths @starsailororastronaut @blueguardian1306

Also, y’all check out @askhindumyths if you like such content uwu.

[doctor-peggy]

Snippet of Chasing Ghosts, Sort Of (Fanfic)

Chasing Ghosts A Kaito and Shinichi role-swap AU the first chapter of which can be found here and on Ao3. 

This is a snippet that I haven’t yet managed to put into any chapter. I’m not actually even sure I’ll leave it in, but I do at least want Aoko to be a little more involved in this AU because I love her. 

So, this isn’t a real anything, I just wanted to post something because I haven’t posted in a while. I’m trying to spend more time planning out my writing because I tend to write myself into dead ends otherwise, but I do have a lot of things that I am planning to post, including more of this fanfic. It’s just going to take some time before I figure out how to post consistently. 

Anyway, I hope you like it!

If Kaito had his way, he would probably spend every single day of his summer break at the police station with Aoko’s dad, but he’s only allowed once a week, and only to watch, and so he’s in the Nakamori’s backyard, helping Aoko weed the lawn.

“Aoko can tell you’re thinking about how you can sneak into her father’s office again,” Aoko warns, “and you better not try.”

“A-o-ko!” Kaito pouts, “You don’t have to ruin the fun of everything every time.”

“Aoko isn’t ruining anyone’s fun. But you’ll get in trouble if you sneak in again, and Aoko doesn’t want that. You can’t be a detective if you keep getting in trouble with the police.”

Kaito stops tugging at the plant in his hand for a moment to look up at her.

“Wait, I just thought you didn’t like me sneaking in because it bothered your father.”

Aoko rolls her eyes.

“Aoko would bother him a lot more if she could, he spends too much time working anyway. But you want to catch your father’s murderers, right?”

“What—no—wait—Oyaji wasn’t murdered!” Kaito splutters.

Aoko shouldn’t know anything about that! Sure, he’d told her about it in the beginning… but that was four years ago. He was sure she had dismissed it a long time ago.

“Did you think Aoko forgot?”

Kaito sighs.

“I hoped you might have thought I was just taking his death badly at the time.”

“Aoko thought about that possibility, too, but Aoko decided to believe you instead. You’re hardly ever wrong about these kinds of things. And besides, you’re still working very hard to become a detective, even though Aoko knows you would like being a magician much more, so the only conclusion is that you still want to investigate about your father.”

“You sound a bit like a detective yourself,” Kaito teases, expecting an eyeroll and possibly also a light smack on the arm.

What he does not expect is Aoko answering seriously, voice low and steady.

“Well,” she says slowly, “Aoko’s got to also work hard to become a detective if she’s going to help you find those murderers.”

Thank you for reading!

Also, if you liked this and would be willing to help me out a little, here’s a dilemma that I need a good solution for: I’m not sure if I should have Aoko say ‘I’ or ‘Aoko’ when she refers to herself. It gets very confusing very quickly when she refers to herself in the third person, so I might take that out even though I’ve included it in this snippet. OR I might have Aoko stop referring to herself in third person later on in the story to not lose that part of her characterisation. Like, maybe she stops doing it because it makes the police officers treat her like a child.

It’s especially confusing because of how the Japanese language works. I have her use ‘you’ for Kaito because it translates like that, but I’ve seen writers have her use ‘Kaito’ in the third person instead of ‘you’ in some cases and it kind of works? But I don’t know if that’s how it would be translated because in Japanese, it’s totally normal for her to say ‘Kaito’ when talking to him and in fact, using any of the Japanese words meaning ‘you’ would be very weird. 

Maybe I’m overthinking this, but I’m a language nerd and pretty much overthink everything involving writing a fanfic in English on source material that is in not-English. Hilariously enough, the other fandom I currently spend a lot of time on is Miraculous Ladybug, which I watch in French without subtitles (as a matter of fact, I initially started watching it to practice French, but then got dragged into the fandom because it made the show 200% more fun), so writing fanfic for that show in English (I’m not good enough at writing in French, sorry) is a whole ordeal and a half because I don’t ever know what to translate and what to leave as is.

...I wonder if monologues like this are appreciated. I guess as long as I put them at the end and not at the beginning, hopefully nobody will really mind. TL;DR I need to figure out whether or not Aoko should refer to herself in the third person in my writing, someone please help me. 

[xhxhxhx]

“The Only Real Exception”

After writing about the education-polarization thesis and the future of Europe and Asia, I was curious: Has Japan polarized? One of Thomas Piketty’s students studied the question. They came to a surprising answer.

As Western Europe and North America have become increasingly polarized around education and income, Japan has actually depolarized.

Western Europe and Japan started in different places. In Western Europe, the educated classes traditionally supported parties of the right. In postwar Japan, they supported parties of the left. They moved in different directions. In Western Europe, the educated moved left. In Japan, they moved right.

From Amory Gethin, “Cleavage structures and distributive politics”: 

7.6 The end of ‘cultural politics’

One of the other specificities of Japanese electoral behaviour is the fact that higher educated individuals have continuously supported left-wing parties, especially during the twenty years following the end of World War II. The historical strength of education levels in predicting party choice in Japan is well-known: it reflects the freezing of the party system which had emerged in the context of the ‘cultural politics’ of the 1950s (Watanuki, 1991).

Even when controlling for the significant improvements in citizens’ education levels since the 1960s, this pattern has persisted for most of the second half of the twentieth century. In the 1960s, 65% of the 20% least educated voters supported the Liberal Democratic Party, against 41% of voters belonging to the top education decile (figure 7.3c). During recent years, however, these differences have decreased considerably, and popular vote for the LDP has oscillated between 40% and 45% for all education groups in 2009-2014. Looking more closely at intellectual elites confirms this evolution (figure 7.3d). In 1963-1967, top 10% educated voters were indeed less likely to support the LDP by about 15 percentage points (8 percentage points after controls). This figure remained broadly stable, staying between 5 and 10 percentage points during the 1963-1996 period. Starting in 2009, however, education lost significance, even when including controls. The decline of the Social Democratic Party during the 1990s and its replacement by the Democratic Party of Japan – which culminated by its victory in 2009 – therefore seems to coincide with the disappearance of what was one of the most fundamental political divisions of Japanese society. The fact that this dealignment was sudden and occurred at the same time as shifts in the structure of party politics suggests that this process is driven by top-down mechanisms rather than long-run evolutions in collective beliefs. 

7.7 From a multiple elites party system to political indifferentiation? 

Bringing these two dynamics together points to a trend which is the exact opposite of the one observed in most Western countries (figure 7.4). In the 1960s, intellectual and economic elites were clearly separated into two different groups. On the left of the political spectrum, university graduates were highly supportive of the Japanese Communist Party and the Japanese Socialist Party, who based their appeal more on liberal values than on class antagonisms. Meanwhile, the Liberal Democratic Party attracted both low income earners and business elites. Through its defense of organized capitalism, it created strong ties with top executives and industrial leaders who participated in developing Japan’s growth model. This structure of political competition suddenly ended in 2009, when the LDP was defeated for the first time. 

While these figures suggest that Japan was originally a perfect example of a multiple elites party system, this characterisation should not be over-emphasised. Persistently strong levels of support for the party among low income earners demonstrates that the LDP has never favoured exclusively economic elites. As was highlighted above, part of its remarkable hegemony came from its ability to distribute equally the fruits of the country’s long periods of growth. The non-linearity of the relationship between income and electoral behaviour is, to some extent, an interesting representation of the Japanese social compromise, which came with its dominant-party system. 

Piketty describes Japan as the exception to the education-polarization rule. From Capital and Ideology:

The only real exception to this general evolution of the structure of political cleavages within the electoral democracies of developed countries seems to concern Japan, which has never really experienced a party system of classist type comparable to those observed in European countries and Westerners during the post-war period. The Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) has been in power almost permanently in Japan since 1945. Historically, this almost hegemonic conservative party has achieved its best scores in the rural and agricultural world and among the urban bourgeoisie. The LDP thus succeeded in synthesizing between the economic and industrial elites and traditional Japan, around a project of reconstruction of the country, in a complex context marked by the American occupation and an anticommunism exacerbated by the Russian-Chinese proximity. Conversely, the Democratic Party (main opposition party) has generally achieved its best scores among modest and average urban employees and among the most highly qualified, who are willing to protest against the presence of the United States and the new moral and social order embodied by the LDP, but without succeeding in sustainably gathering an alternative majority8. More generally, the specific structure of the political conflict in Japan must be linked to the particular form taken by Japanese cleavages around nationalism and traditional values9.

8. See A. GETHIN, Cleavages Structures and Distributive Politics, op. cit., p. 89-100. See also K. MORI MCELWAIN, « Party System Institutionalization in Japan », in A. HICKEN, E. MARTINEZ KUHONTA, Party System Institutionalization in Asia, Cambridge University Press, 2015, p. 74-107.

9. In The Game of the Century [The Silent Cry] (1967), Kenzaburô Ôé magnificently evokes the complexity and the violence of the relations between the intellectual elites and the popular classes in Japan, in particular around the urban-rural divide, traditional values and the question of the modernization of the country since the beginning of the Meiji era (1868), without forgetting the role played by the geopolitical positioning of the archipelago, the relationship with the United States and the antagonisms aroused by the presence of Korean workers.

Perhaps Japan was a precociously modern society in the 1960s, with an educated left and a uneducated right. Or perhaps it was a “post-colonial” society, with a self-consciously anti-imperialist left. 

The Japanese experience of the 1960s can certainly sound precociously modern. In Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood (1987), one working class student was put off by the 1960s educated left:

"You know, when I went to university I joined a folk-music club. I just wanted to sing songs. But the members were a load of frauds. I get goose-bumps just thinking about them. The first thing they tell you when you enter the club is you have to read Marx. ‘Read page so-and-so to such-and-such for next time.’ Somebody gave a lecture on how folk songs have to be deeply involved with society and the radical movement. So, what the hell, I went home and tried as hard as I could to read it, but I didn't understand a thing. It was worse than the subjunctive. I gave up after three pages. So I went to the next week's meeting like a good little scout and said I had read it, but I couldn't understand it. From that point on they treated me like an idiot.

“I had no critical awareness of the class struggle, they said, I was a social cripple. I mean, this was serious. And all because I said I couldn't understand a piece of writing. Don't you think they were terrible?"

"Uh-huh," I said.

"And their so-called discussions were terrible, too. Everybody would use big words and pretend they knew what was going on. But I would ask questions whenever I didn't understand something. "What is this imperialist exploitation stuff you're talking about? Is it connected somehow to the East India Company?' "Does smashing the educational-industrial complex mean we're not supposed to work for a company after we graduate?' And stuff like that. But nobody was willing to explain anything to me. Far from it -- they got really angry.

“Can you believe it?"

"Yeah, I can," I said.

"One guy yelled at me, "You stupid bitch, how do you live like that with nothing in your brain?' Well, that did it. I wasn't going to put up with that. OK, so I'm not so smart. I'm working class. But it's the working class that keeps the world running, and it's the working classes that get exploited. What kind of revolution is it that just throws out big words that working-class people can't understand? What kind of crap social revolution is that? I mean, I'd like to make the world a better place, too. If somebody's really being exploited, we've got to put a stop to it. That's what I believe, and that's why I ask questions.

“Am I right, or what?"

"You're right."

"So that's when it hit me. These guys are fakes. All they've got on their minds is impressing the new girls with the big words they're so proud of, while sticking their hands up their skirts. And when they graduate, they cut their hair short and march off to work for Mitsubishi or IBM or Fuji Bank. They marry pretty wives who've never read Marx and have kids they give fancy new names to that are enough to make you puke. Smash what educational-industrial complex? Don't make me laugh! And the new members were just as bad. They didn't understand a thing either, but they pretended to and they were laughing at me. After the meeting, they told me, "Don't be silly! So what if you don't understand? Just agree with everything they say.'"

[...]  

"So then what happened with your club?"

"I left in June, I was so furious," Midori said. "Most of these student types are total frauds. They're scared to death somebody's gonna find out they don't know something. They all read the same books and they all spout the same slogans, and they love listening to John Coltrane and seeing Pasolini movies. You call that "revolution?"'

"Hey, don't ask me, I've never actually seen a revolution."

"Well, if that's revolution, you can stick it. They'd probably shoot me for putting umeboshi in my rice balls. They'd shoot you, too, for understanding the subjunctive."

"It could happen."

"Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. I'm working class.”

But those dynamics changed. Today, Japan is about as polarized by education as France and the United States were in the 1970s and the United Kingdom was in the 1990s: the more educated and the less educated vote the same way. 

I am still interested in whether Japan has depolarized at the level of opinion and policy. Under Shinzo Abe, the country has liberalized. It has more immigration and more women in the workforce. Perhaps that reflects the preferences of an increasingly educated population.

But it might be something else. The Liberal Democrats have a freedom of action that parties in competitive systems do not enjoy. In the United States, Democrats and Republicans must respond to changing preferences. In Japan, the Liberal Democrats can, more often than not, ignore them.

Perhaps Abe simply decided that cultural conservatism is not a winning program. But perhaps the country is changing beneath his feet. 

[themyskira]

So....have you read the latest Avengers #20, about the current version of She Hulk? How do you feel about that?

I’ve made a point of avoiding Jason Aaron’s Avengers because I truly can’t stand what he’s done to Jen. He took a character who, for all her more recent traumas, for all she can struggle to balance her legal career with her the pitfalls of being a publicly known superhero, loves who she is and embraces being green wholeheartedly -- he took Shulkie and turned her into Lady Bruce Banner, retiring lawyer whose inner ragemonster is just waiting to break loose. It’s some deep-seated bullshit and I’ve been trying my best to simply wait for it all to pass over.

But it was hard to ignore Avengers #20, because this was the issue where Jason Aaron went right off the fucking rails. I mean, he really went full Aaron Sorkin on his readers, and that isn’t a compliment.

Classic She-Hulk: Charming. Witty. Sensational. The Jolly Jade Giantess. The sassiest super-lawyer in all of Brooklyn. More laughs than a barrel of Deadpools. Fun. For years, that’s how the world described my client.  Until the accused came here and flushed all that global adoration down the gamma-irradiated toilet.Jason Aaron She-Hulk: Rrrgh. Objection. Some still like--Judge Jen: Overruled!Classic She-Hulk: The accused would like you to believe she’s not at fault for what happened to my client. That these changes in her personality are the unfortunate side-effect of her new powers, which were awakened inside her by some meddling space giants... and that since that happened she's been doing her best to regain control of herself. To do right by my client and give the world back the gorgeous, green, fun-loving bombshell they know and love. But that’s a complete lie, isn’t it? ... Ladies of the jury, I ask you... is this the face we want to present to the world? After everything we’ve worked to accomplish over the years, is this the sort of muscle-bound downer of a Hulk we want to be?

This sequence takes place in the context of a mental simulation being used by Jen in an effort to build her control over her powers, but in truth it’s just three long and excruciating pages of Aaron taking petty swipes at fans who are unhappy with his portrayal of She-Hulk. Through this exchange, he deliberately frames criticisms of his She-Hulk as shallow, over-the-top and sexist, suggesting that those of us who dislike his barely-recognisable ‘roidmonster Jen simply don’t understand good writing and that we just want a fun sexy green bombshell to wank over.

(Also implicit in this, and indeed throughout the comic, is the view that classic She-Hulk is less meaningful as a character because her comics are frequently humour-oriented. ‘Funny’ is situated in contrast to ‘deep’, ignoring the fact that Jen’s best writers have found room for both, and that Aaron’s She-Hulk fails to be either.)

And that sets the tone for the whole issue. From that point on, the entire comic is just Aaron transparently editorialising that no, you guys just don’t get it, my She-Hulk is better and deeper and more feminist than your She-Hulk.

“I was an omega-level threat in the charm department. I was the Hulk you’d want to have a glass of pinot with. And the craziest part was, my powers, for the most part... made me happy. An incredibly rare occurrence in my line of work. I actually enjoyed being a hero. I loved being the fun Hulk. I loved it a whole helluva lot. So how come I don’t miss it?

“There’s a war on. And the trolls have taken Australia. I’m part of the team that’s taking it back. These trolls come from a faraway realm, but I know their kind. They would’ve laughed at the old me. Made crass jokes even as I was taking them down. This time, nobody’s laughing. And I love it with my all big, green, glowing heart.”

The frustrating thing is, he’s right on the cusp of something genuinely interesting here.

Men who speak angrily and aggressively are apt to be seen as tough, forceful and strong-willed; women who do the same are more often viewed as shrill, nagging, hysterical, bitchy. Many women consciously or unconsciously learn to mask their anger, make ourselves smaller and less threatening. Asserting yourself can be the difference between being seen as the ‘fun girl’ and the humourless bitch.

And the sexual harassment he references -- the sexist jokes, the propositioning, the devaluing of women’s capabilities -- not only are these things that many women, from the most disadvantaged to the most powerful, face to different degrees, they’re relevant on a meta level to the portrayal of women in comics.

All of these themes would be ripe for exploration in the context of classic She-Hulk. Jen is a fun-loving character whose life isn’t governed by rage and the need to control it the way other Hulks are, but that doesn’t mean she can always afford to lose her temper -- as both a woman working in a profession rife with sexism and ‘old boys club’ attitudes, and as a female superhero in the public eye, “you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry” takes on a whole different meaning.

Conversely, we might also think about Jen’s privilege in this regard -- that by virtue of her public profile and influence and general ability to grind men into a pulp without breaking a sweat, she doesn’t face the same level of discrimination as other women. That other women (particularly women of colour and LGBTQI women) don’t have the same freedom to express their anger as she does, not without consequences. And that -- as both the superhero She-Hulk and as the high-profile lawyer Jennifer Walters -- she is in a position to help other women to be heard and ensure that their anger is answered with change.

As for historical sexism in comics, there’s no better antidote to the male gaze than hiring more women and nonbinary people.

None of that seems to interest Jason Aaron. Rather, in defence of his roided-out Girl Bruce, he seems to be saying... what? ‘I have fixed sexism by making Jen so buff that men are too scared to undervalue or sexually harass her’?

(Which, by the way, they still do anyway.)

Next, we get this exchange:

Deadpool: Why’d you stop being funny? I mean, you were really good at it. You were like... me before me.She-Hulk: Rrgh. Rather be free.Deadpool: How’s that?She-Hulk: Free to be ugly.Deadpool: Um, wait, can’t you be both?

So, the implication is that before now, Jen wasn’t “free” to be her whole self -- that she had to be the fun, funny girl to avoid being seen as too angry and threatening.

And aside from the fact that, as I said, I think there are many more nuanced ways to explore this without negating Jen’s characterisation -- this is just lazy goddamn writing. It’s not an idea Aaron has explored up till now, nor is it reflective of the ways in which Jen has been portrayed in the past. It’s just a messy retcon jammed into the story to justify the ‘superiority’ of Aaron’s version of the character. Once again, the writer is speaking through the characters.

We also see Aaron once again implying that being “ugly” -- by which he means physically imposing, buff, not resembling a typical comic book pinup girl -- ‘frees’ Jen from the constraints of sexism, which is full-blown outrageous.

You think that men only sexually harass women they deem attractive? Really? You think that sexism stops at catcalls and underestimation? You think that Jen, a female superhero in the public eye, isn’t going to be subjected to ugly sexist slurs no matter what she looks like? That is as insulting as it is naive.

Later, Aarons-via-Jen engages in some meta-criticism of the fact that She-Hulk has traditionally been portrayed not as a huge, buff ragemonster but as a sexy bodybuilder (and retconning in a shit-ton of sexual harassment while he’s at it, because remember, sexism only affects women society deems conventionally attractive).

“Cousin Bruce said something once, a few years back... about how envious he was of me. How easy he figured I had it. When he hulked out, he became a giant, deformed monster who couldn’t even wear normal clothes. While there I was looking like a bodybuilder who’d just been spray-painted green. I could wear suits, walk down the street without people running and screaming. Teenage boys hung posters of me on their walls. Must be nice, Bruce said to me, to be that kind Hulk.

“I’d never wanted to punch my cousin so bad. And that’s saying something. I told him about the parts of being me that he was oblivious to. About all the times I’d been hit on during team-ups. The bad guys who’d cop a feel when we were fighting.  The sleaze ball who published photos of me topless when I was in the Fantastic freaking Four. (I’d really rather you didn’t Google that.) No paparazzi ever followed Bruce around taking photos of his butt while he was fighting the Leader. I told him... looking like a big scary monster didn’t seem so bad to be sometimes.”

And here we really get to the thesis underlying Aaron’s argument, the reason he feels She-Hulk needed a complete overhaul.

Like most superheroines, She-Hulk was shaped by the male gaze. It’s fair to say that played a lot into her original character design as a green Amazonian bombshell, whose appearance and comparative level-headedness stood in stark contrast to the huge, monstrous, rage-driven Hulk whose powers she inherited. Heroines in cape comics are supposed to be ‘fun’ and ‘sexy’ (as judged by the men they were typically being written by and for). Jen’s body has frequently been the subject of titillation and her promiscuity has frequently been the subject of crude humour.

Aaron seems to view this as the flaw at the heart of the character, and it’s something he’s set out to correct -- by making her the gigantic, buff, scary, angry Hulk she was never allowed to be at the outset. Sexism thwarted! Strong Female Character accomplished! Give yourself a pat on the back, Jason.

Except, here’s the thing.

It’s true that Jen has often been depicted through the lens of a male sex fantasy. 

It’s also true that many readers have embraced her as a female power fantasy.

As the super-buff, super-strong, seven-foot-tall She-Hulk, Jen doesn’t feel the need to bite her tongue or moderate her opinions or diminish herself out of concern for how others might respond. She doesn’t have to hide her confidence or her sexuality. Through her transformation, Jen gains the freedom to embrace all that she’s been repressing -- the brilliant, witty, brash, assertive, body-confident parts of herself she’s always kept hidden from the world.

In looking at Jen selectively through the lens of sexualised artwork, instances of bad writing and a frankly snobbish undervaluing of humour comics, Aaron zooms right past everything that makes her such an appealing and empowering character to so many readers.

Which brings me right back to Deadpool’s comment earlier in the issue: Can’t you be both?

If your complaint is that Jen is portrayed in a male-gazey, overly sexualised manner that de-emphasises her strength and physical power, hire an artist who will draw her as the buff, badass giantess that she is.

She-Hulk doesn’t need a gamma power-up or a brutish alter ego to be formidable, she’s She-Hulk ffs. And stripping Jen of all her femininity in the process of turning her into a ‘roided-out tank raises some dodgy gendered assumptions in itself.

(For me, Peak Jen is a giant buff green woman in a bright pink designer suit. Not only can she be both, she already was.)

And hey, just gonna throw this one out there again, if your complaint is that since her creation Jen has been predominantly written and drawn from male perspectives for a male audience, resulting in some sexist and oversexualised portrayals, how about you hire some goddamn women and nonbinary people to write and draw her?

This is not the Great Feminist Reimagining of She-Hulk that you think it is, Jason Aaron. This is a slightly more pretentious rehash of that time David Goyer dismissed the character as a “giant green porn star”. You’re trying to ‘fix’ Jen by negating everything that she was previously, which is quite simply bad writing.

And when you find yourself dedicating a full issue of a comic book to calling your readers stupid for not liking your treatment of a character, that feels like a pretty sure sign that you’ve fucked up.

[frangipanidownunder]

Skin trade ⭐️🔦?

Thanks anon! I’m always dubious about doing these ones because nobody ever remembers the names of my fics (I don’t remember the names of them, either, so it’s not a surprise!).

⭐- What’s a scene/paragraph you’re proud of?

Honestly, I’m kind of proud of the whole fic because it took me ages to get it right. It became longer than I initially expected but I wanted to get the plot and characterisation right so I plugged away.

There’s a scene in chapter 4 where Scully discovers two young girls hiding in an old industrial estate building. I wanted to show her horror, the girl’s fear and Scully’s ‘partner’ Rick Dash’s indifference. The setting is brutal and there’s tension because M&S are separated.

 _______________

Deep into the building, behind scratched and splintered doors, are two young women. They are huddled together under a sleeping bag. Dash taps his foot on the concrete floor, startling Scully and the girls. He’s holding a flashlight and arcs it directly into their faces. She kneels in front of them, pushes his arm down, lowering the beam.

He snorts, his tone loaded with derision. Peering closer, she realises they aren’t alarmed by the light in their eyes. They aren’t alarmed, because their eyes are covered with bandaged patches.

           They scramble up on the sound of her gasp and the taller of the two turns around and the other lifts the back of her top up. Her ribs protrude but that’s not the thing that causes the breath to leave Scully’s body. She pulls away the bandage, soaked with yellowy-pink fluid, to see two strips of pink flesh against the dark skin of the rest of the girl’s body. Raw, crusting over at the edges. She presses the adhesive tape back down and the girl sucks in her breath. The other one has the same wounds. She’s younger, cries with the pain.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. We’ll get you something.” She turns to Dash and pushes him out of their hearing. Fury stings her veins.

“I can’t believe you left them here.”

“If I’d let them stay in the clinic, Quist would have collected them.”

“They need urgent medical attention.”

“I saw to them, Agent Scully.”

“They’re in danger of infection.”

He glares over her head, then down at her. “I am well aware of the potential side effects of this kind of wound.”

She lets out a slow breath. Looks away from his searing gaze. “How did they get to the clinic?”

           “They told me they walked, followed the sounds of the river. But Quist must have driven them. I shut the door in his face when he tried to follow them in. He told me he’d left something in the clinic. I told him to come back later then I saw him pacing in the parking lot.”

“He didn’t finish the job. He wants more time with them.” She looks back at the terrified girls. They can’t be more than 16 years old.

“They’re in good shape considering their injuries. They’re the evidence we’ve been waiting for. I’m taking them.”

           She bristles at his tone, the crude way he’s reduced them to objects. “What are their names?”

           There’s a second before he answers. Enough time for his expression to register shock, indignance at her question. “Does it matter? We have to act now. Quist will be working out how to get to them.”

___________________     

🔦-Did you learn anything while writing it? About yourself? Writing?

Once again, I learned how hard plotting is! I had to re-write and re-read the fic over and over to work out all the kinks. Because I don’t plan my writing, I started to write scenes from Scully’s POV and then from Mulder’s POV as well as jumping around in different times. In the end, I drafted the story in chronological order, then broke the sections into a workable format that added to the rising tension and the fact that M&S are apart for most of the fic. The prompt I was responding to was that they had to be partnered with different agents and that they are reunited after a difficult case, so I wanted to ramp up the tension. Having the fic in sections, jumping back and forth, meant I could really play up those aspects, but it fried my brain.

Send me a story and a symbol

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @Saenda!

Read on AO3

*****

Building dreams around you

Winter descended on New York suddenly that year.

Overnight, the fallen leaves littering the sidewalks and gutters in a riot of colour had disappeared, whipped away by a sudden frigid wind. The next morning, snow fell across New York as someone had captured the city inside a just-upended snow globe. Thick and wet, the fluffy flakes blanketed naked branches and cars alike, only to melt and fall into a churn of grey slush under millions of stamping feet.

Snow in New York always brought the city’s inhabitants to Central Park, residents and tourists alike. Thronging through the meandering paths in their thousands, they descended upon the ice rinks and the snowy fields in a manner not unlike a horde of ravener demons, all of them clutching their paper cups of overpriced strangely flavoured coffee and unaware that Alec and Isabelle were wrestling with an infestation of Drevak demons right before their unseeing eyes.

Mundanes. Alec had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, as he stabbed a seraph blade through the pallid, fleshy body of the Drevak demon to his right.

He hated hunts that took him into the heart of Manhattan, even at the best of times. There were many variables, too much potential collateral damage, and too many bodies to avoid. An invisibility rune might keep the mundanes from seeing him, but it did nothing to stop his body crashing into theirs if a Mantid demon threw him into a wall.

Next to him, Isabelle decapitated the last of the fleshy larvae demons with a flourish of her own seraph blade and a grin which she whipped around to face him.

“How many?”

Alec snorted. Everything was a competition for Isabelle. She and Jace had been to be terrible influences on each other when they’d been younger, always egging each other on to new heights of recklessness in the name of winning.

“Twenty-nine”, he told her, and her grin widened, baring teeth.

“Hah! Thirty-three! That’s the fourth time this month,” Isabelle preened a little, flicking her hair out of her face with a flourish.

Alec shrugged loosely, and her face fell, even as she fell into step with him. It was never as fun for her when he didn’t play along with the competition, and so he made a point of pretending he was unaffected by their small sibling rivalries, if only because he knew it irritated her.

Alec and Izzy were both runed up, which meant that nobody saw them as they vaulted the rope fencing off the lawns and started for the south exit. Izzy looped his arm through his as they walked, and Alec looked down at her with a fond smile. Few things in life were as effortless as time spent with his sister.

“Ooh look, Alec! The skating rink! That is such a cute date idea, isn’t it?” Isabelle pointed across at a couple who were gliding across the ice, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes. There was a faraway look in her expressive eyes for a second as she watched.

“Uh, I guess.”

She flicked her eyes up to his.

“Why only ‘I guess?’” She lowered her voice to imitate his deeper, more deadpan tone, raising a single perfect eyebrow at him.

“It looks like a recipe for disaster. Look - that guy just tripped and knocked the girl he’s with over! Why do mundanes think sliding over ice with knives on their shoes and maybe also killing their dates is fun?” Alec gestured at the rink as they walked past and then turned back to his sister, his eyes wide.

“It’s cute! You get to hold hands and make lots of excuses to be close to each other to stop each other falling over. Besides, it’s Christmassy, Alec!”

“Oh my god,” he groaned. “Not you too! We don’t even celebrate Christmas, Iz.”

Isabelle made a face. “Yes, and it sucks. We should.”

Alec grimaced and said nothing. Christmas was the antithesis of the Spartan, utilitarian, Shadowhunter life. They didn’t get the luxury of days off, and the Clave took take a very dim view of the prospect of an entire day lost to the gross consumerism and overconsumption that characterised a mundane Christmas. According to the Clave, Shadowhunters were above those earthly excesses.

He glanced down at Isabelle, unsure when that had changed for her.

“It’s never bothered you before. Has it?”

“It’s just... so much has changed over the last year. We met Simon, and... Clary.” She swallowed hard, her eyes shining and Alec untangled his arm to reach across her shoulder and squeeze her into his side. “When I hear about their lives - the freedom they had... it’s made me wish we had something outside of training, and missions, and our duty. I believe in what we do, of course... but I don’t think it would hurt to relax the rules a little, you know?

“Sure, that’s a fair point. I don’t see how Christmas comes into that though?”

She gave him an impish smile. “Well, it always looks like so much fun in the movies.”

Her face grew contemplative as she continued, “It’s about what it represents, I guess? Not - religion, necessarily. It’s about goodwill, and family, and celebrating the year, and the people important to you. It’s a moment of light at the darkest point of the year... and I think we could all do with some light in the darkness right now.” Isabelle glanced at him, her eyes wet.

Alec was silent, tightening his arm where it lay across her shoulders as she blinked rapidly for a few moments.

“I... yeah. I’ve never thought about it that way, I guess. It’s just always seemed like a pain. The city gets so busy with the tourists in December, and all they seem to do is get in the way. And then all the presents and the food...” He rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you Scrooge,” Isabelle rolled her eyes back at him, the corner of her mouth twitching.

Alec looked at her, keeping his face blank. “Who?”

“Oh my god, Alec! How can you not get that reference?!”

In fact, Alec knew who Scrooge was - Magnus had a set of Charles Dickens’ novels in the loft, a couple even signed by the man himself during a pub crawl one night in London. He just enjoyed needling his sister.

The corners of his mouth twitched, but Alec kept his face as blank as possible. Isabelle rolled her eyes.

“You need to get out of your office more, big brother.”

“I get out plenty. I’m out with you now, aren’t I? And Magnus and I went for Singaporean food last night.”

“Hunts. Don’t. Count.” She told him. “And speaking of Magnus...” She trailed off, lost for words. “How are things? How is he?” Her voice was gentle, her glossy eyes soft with compassion.

Alec felt a pang of the strange mixture of tenderness and guilt that was his constant companion these days.

“Magnus is... okay. He’s okay.” Alec settled on. “It’s difficult, you know? Some days are better than others.”

Isabelle nodded, her eyes wide with sympathy.

“But... I think we’re getting to a point where he has more good days than bad. He’s picked up a few new hobbies - and it seems to help, keeping busy.”

She smiled a little and pressed her head against his shoulder for a moment, wordless affection passing between them. “I’m here for both of you if you ever need anything, right? You only need to ask.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I know.”

There was silence as they gazed at the skyscrapers in the distance. After a few moments, Isabelle broke the silence.

“Anyway, speaking of Magnus,” and her voice was teasing again. “I bet you’d take him ice skating if he wanted to go!”

Alec opened his mouth - and then shut it again. There was nothing he could say to that. She was right - he’d do anything Magnus asked him to if he thought it would make him smile.

---

When Alec let himself into the loft, kicking his boots off at the door, he was hit by a blast of warm air that made his cold nose tingle, and the savoury scents of the ragù simmering on the kitchen stovetop, of the sage and sandalwood omnipresent in Magnus’ home.

“Magnus?” he called after a few moments when no sign of his errant boyfriend emerged.

“In here!” came the answer. The voice came from the room that had once upon a time been the apothecary and Alec’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach.

Magnus didn’t spend a lot of time in there anymore, but when he did, he always came out of it sad, and a little smaller.

Alec tapped against the empty door frame to announce himself, and Magnus, sat at his old desk with a cardboard box in front of him, glanced up to give him a soft smile.

“Hello, darling.”

Alec’s shoulders dropped, the tension leaking out of his muscles as if it had never been there. Magnus’ smile was small but genuine. His pleasure at the sight of Alec gleamed in his crinkled eyes, and there was answering throb of joy in Alec’s chest, a sweet surge of tenderness sweeping through him.

Suddenly needy for the touch of Magnus’ skin against his, for the taste of his mouth and his spicy-warm smell, for the reassuring strength of his shoulders and the sure touch of his hands, Alec crossed the room in less than a heartbeat, and then there were plush lips opening under his, as he worshipped Magnus’ mouth with eager, tongue-slick kisses.

Alec sighed a little, low in his throat, and stroked his thumbs over the velvet nap of the shaved sides of Magnus’ head, deep, soul-aching contentment sinking into his bones.

This kiss has none of the electric urgency of a first kiss. It was full of confidence and certainty - a way of saying ‘Hi, how are you?. I kissed you good-morning and I’m kissing you good evening. I will kiss you again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.’

When he pulled away, only because he needed to breathe, Magnus’ eyes were liquid and dark, his pupils blown. His breath came out a little unsteady against Alec’s mouth, and when he spoke, his voice was husky.

“Well, that was some hello.”

Alec smiled and pressed a kiss into the side of Magnus’ head. “I guess I missed you today. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Magnus’ face was soft, his smile gentle. “I missed you, sweetheart. Always. Did you have a rough day?”

“Oh, you know. Long, boring, full of disgusting demons. Izzy and I dealt with a swarm of Drevak demons in the middle of Central Park.”

Magnus made a face. “Ugh, disgusting things. And in Central Park, even worse - I know you hate hunts in Manhattan.”

“Yeah, and it’s even worse at the minute, because of all the Christmas crap. The whole city’s gone crazy for it, there are hordes of tourists everywhere. Izzy and I caught up by the crowds taking selfies outside of some fancy display window on Fifth while we were trying to track the infestation.”

Magnus paused, something in his face dimming for a moment. In the next moment, he was smiling again, but it was smaller, a little fainter. His voice is light as he asks “You’re not feeling festive, then?”

Alec shrugged, his shoulders jostling Magnus’ arms where they circled around his neck as they kissed. “Not really...” He said, slowly, Isabelle’s words ringing in his ears. “I mean, I’ve never celebrated it, so. It all just seems like a lot of unnecessary fuss? I’m just looking forward to January when it’ll all be over.”

“Well, you’ll get your wish soon enough,” Magnus said with a light chuckle, glancing down for a second. “And in the meantime, you can always take shelter here.” He pulled back, slipping out of Alec’s arms to slide the box he’d had in front of him under his desk, kicking it with one foot to push it out of sight.

“What’s in the box?” Alec asked, intrigued.

“Oh, just some old potions supplies,” Magnus replied, waving his hands airily. “Nothing for either of us to concern ourselves with, I was just checking to see if they were still fresh enough to use before I pass them on to Catarina.”

Alex shifted, the heaviness of guilt that was his daily companion setting his stomach churning at the mention of Magnus’ loss of magic.

Still, his face was bright and his mouth was a gentle curve when he turned back to Alec. Seized again with the desire to touch him, to be as close to him as possible, Alec stepped in and captured Magnus’ jaw in his hand. He stroked one thumb over the architectural curve of his cheekbone as he leant close, and then they were kissing again, Magnus’ hands sliding into Alec’s hair as he bit down on Alec’s lower lip.

After several minutes - or hours, Alec had lost all track of time by the time he resurfaced - he broke away with a gasp, blood pumping. “How long do we have before dinner is ready?”

The face Magnus gave him in response face was rueful. “Not long enough for all the things I want to do with you, Alexander. It’ll be ready in,” and he glanced at the watch on his wrist. “Well, now.”

Alec took a calming breath in through his nose, trying to calm the roiling heat that had swept through him at the touch of Magnus’ mouth. “Raincheck, then? It smells great, whatever it is. Thank you for cooking,” and he gave Magnus a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. It’s new ragù recipe I’m trying out - I’m trying to replicate the wild boar pasta we had at that incredible trattoria in Siena this spring, do you remember? I found it on YouTube - the pasta is homemade, and I’m sure I’ve got the texture right this time,” Magnus replied, his eyes sparkling.

Cooking was one of the more successful hobbies he’d taken up since losing his magic, and he was proving to be an excellent chef. Alec, who was an enthusiastic and vocal supporter of his culinary talents and also a firm believer that there was nothing Magnus couldn’t do if he put his mind to it, had devoured his last three attempts at homemade pasta and not picked up on anything wrong. Still, Magnus had been less than satisfied.

“I can’t wait,” Alec assured him, and the delighted smile he received, the crinkle in Magnus’ nose and the shine in his eyes, was all he needed to make the worries and cares of his day fade into nothingness as if they’d never existed. By the time they sat down to eat that evening, Alec had all but forgotten the exchange they’d had about Christmas and the mysterious box.

---

The next day, Magnus sneezed seven times at breakfast.

This was no cause for alarm even if it was a little unusual. Alec laughed, blessed him, kissed him goodbye and made his way to the Institute thinking no more of it.

That afternoon, he was halfway through reading a fifteen-page report on the recent migratory patterns of Shax demons when his phone chimed with a text.

Alexander, I’m a bit under the weather :( nothing to worry yourself about, but I think it’s best if we cancel our dinner plans for tonight - I’m sorry! Stay at the Institute tonight, I doubt I’ll be much company :( See you soon darling, love you xxxxxxx

Alec stared at his phone screen for a second and then set down the report. They had reservations at one of the city’s newest and most hyped restaurants, to try the nine-course Pan-Asian tasting menu which New York’s food critics had been raving about for months. They’d had to make the reservations in September. Magnus had reminded him several times only that week not to forget, or make other plans.

Despite the instruction for Alec not to worry, something had to be wrong for Magnus to cancel like this.

Alec bolted from his chair, the Shax report forgotten. He made a beeline for the armoury which his parabatai had been haunting in recent months.

He found Jace inside, his hair wet and arms shining with sweat as he moved through a drill with his seraph blade. From the tremor in his muscles and the pallid grey of his complexion, he had to have been at it for hours, and as Alec watched, he realised with a sinking sense of dread he would have to intervene again in this latest attempt at self-destruction.

One problem at a time, he told himself. One at a time.

“Jace?”

Jace fell out of form and turned to where Alec stood in the door. “Hey. What’s up.”

“I think something’s up with Magnus. I’m heading to his, not sure when I’ll be back. Can you cover me?”

“Sure, no problem,” Jace agreed without hesitation, turning to the weapons rack to put away his blade. “Go take care of things with Magnus, I’ll hold down the fort for you.”

Alec couldn’t not ask, even if he knew the answer. “Are you okay?”

The look he got in response was dull and fleeting, Jace’s eyes falling swiftly to the floor as he came to stand by Alec. “I’m fine. Stop worrying about me and go worry about your boyfriend.”

Alec’s stomach turned, and he reached out to his parabatai, gripping the nape of Jace’s neck. “It’s my job to worry about you. But okay, I’m going. Talk to Izzy if you need back up?”

Jace’s smile was a mere twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Sure, got it. Go.”

For a second, Alec wished he could tear himself in two. He hated to leave Jace when he was like this, on one of his bad days. He was sick with guilt at the thought of failing his parabatai. But he couldn’t stay - Magnus needed him and that was a pull like a tether tugging at his heart.

He squeezed Jace’s neck again in a weak gesture of thanks, and turned away. As he jogged through the halls of the Institute, he slipped his stele out of his pocket and activated the speed rune on his left forearm, inhaling a sharp breath through his nose as the combination rush of adrenaline and angelic magic thrummed through his veins.

When he reached the doors, he started to run.

---

Alec didn’t crash through the door to the loft, but he had to catch himself on the doorframe as he stumbled into the loft.

“Magnus?” He called out, still breathless from the fifteen-minute sprint from the Institute.

“Alexander?” A thick voice called in response. A second later, Magnus appeared, shuffling out of his bedroom, all swaddled up in an enormous blanket. He was ashen under the warm brown of his complexion, his red nose standing out in stark contrast to the unusual pallor of his skin. “What are you doing here? I thought I text-”

“You did, I got your text,” Alec hurried to reassure him. “But I wasn’t just going to leave you alone when there’s something wrong. What’s wrong? I thought you didn’t get-.”

His words ground to an abrupt halt. Magnus had told him once that for warlocks, their energy not only powered their lifeforce and stopped them ageing, it also made them immune to mundane illnesses. Magnus hadn’t been sick a day in his life since his warlock mark appeared alongside his magic. His cells healed themselves quicker than disease could take hold.

But without it - without his magic, Magnus was as vulnerable to the common cold as any mundane.

Alec’s voice stuck in his throat. He stepped forward helplessly, reaching out. Magnus’ eyes were downcast, his generous mouth pursed into a firm line - but he came into Alec’s embrace and folded in under his chin as if he belonged there, gripping Alec in a hug that was just a shade too tight for comfort.

Alec searched for something to say, casting his mind about for the right words, the words that would fix this and to make things better somehow, or at least break the tension that was so palpable. He knew, even as he tried, that he wouldn’t succeed - there was nothing that would fix this for Magnus.

All he can say is, “I love you,” pressing a kiss into the soft darkness of Magnus’ hair. “I love you and I’m here for you, okay? Let me be here for you.”

Another moment of silence, and then Magnus looked up, his eyes wet but a tremulous smile fixed firmly on his face. “Of course, Alexander,” and he swiped at his eyes, dashing away from the wetness with an impatient hand. “I had only thought to spare you my company while I’m so snotty and disgusting,” and he raised his eyebrows and laughed, a little self-deprecating.

“Hey,” Alec said, cupping his cheek. “You know I love this face. Even if it is snotty right now.” He mock-grimaced and then both laughed.

“I love you too,” Magnus said, his face full of a sweetness that made Alec’s heartache. “And if I wasn’t so sick, I would kiss you right now until you can’t feel your toes.”

“I don’t care about that.” Alec leant in and pressed a tender kiss to his mouth. “If I have to be snotty in exchange for kissing you, then so be it.”

Magnus put his face in his hands and laughed.

---

Alec spent the rest of the afternoon looking after Magnus. He tucked him up in bed and stroked his hair until Magnus fell asleep, wheezing through his mouth where he was curled up across Alec’s chest.

After texting Isabelle and Jace to let them know he would need a few days off at least, Alec spent the rest of the afternoon googling and taking notes on mundane remedies for the common cold. By the time Magnus woke up, dizzy and disorientated like only a three-hour afternoon nap can make someone, he had a plan of attack in place.

“Ugh, I am so gross,” Magnus groaned, sneezing five times in quick succession. Alec reached out to push his hair away from his forehead, which was cool and a little damp under his forehead.

“Why don’t I run you a bath? That always makes you feel better.”

Magnus sighed. “Oh darling, would you? That sounds wonderful.”

Alec left him in bed while he ran the bath, pouring in a few drops of eucalyptus and lavender oil from the essential oils in the bathroom cabinet. The bathroom filled with sweet-smelling steam and Magnus sighed in delight when he slipped into the water.

“Oh, this is wonderful. I am like a new man already.”

Alec leaned into and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “You relax in here, I’m going to run a few errands.”

While Magnus soaked, Alec called for takeout from the Jewish deli down the road - chicken soup was one thing that nearly every mundane on the internet had agreed would help. He changed the sheets on the bed and did the leftover dishes from the breakfast they’d shared that morning.

By the time Magnus had finished in the bath, his fingers wrinkled and his voice a little less stuffed up, Alec had cued up an old episode of Project Runway and was dishing up the soup and dumplings into two bowls.

“Alexander, I think you are an actual angel,” Magnus told him fervently. “Have I mentioned today how much I adore you?

“Eat your soup,” Alec replied, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Within the twenty minutes of finishing their meal, Magnus was asleep again on the couch, making an adorable snuffling wheeze with every breath. Alec looked down at his sleeping boyfriend and wondered at how he still found him cute, even when he was snoring.

An hour later, the door buzzed, and Alec leapt to answer it.

His sister was standing on the other side, a paper bag in her hands. Isabelle smiled at him. “Hey, I got your message. I figured you wouldn’t have had the chance to go to the drugstore yet, so I asked Simon what you’d need and got everything he suggested. The list was… extensive.” She widened her eyes for emphasis. “You should have everything you need.”

Alec took the bag from her and looked inside. Aspirin, cough drops, orange juice, honey and lemons, a few boxes of tissues, menthol balm, a piece of lined paper… and a whole head of garlic?.

He looked askance at Isabelle, holding the garlic up and raising one eyebrow.

Isabelle shrugged. “Apparently it’s a thing. Simon said his Bubbie Helen used to make him garlic soup when he got sick as a kid. It’s great for the immune system, he says. He wrote the recipe down for you.”

Alec picked up the piece of paper in the bag and his eyebrows shot up. “Forty cloves of garlic? Is he kidding?”

She laughed, and her hands up. “He swears it’ll help! Up to you if you want to take the risk… but at least you’ll keep the vampires at bay.”

Alec laughed and pulled her in for a loose hug. “Thanks, Iz. I seriously owe you.”

“Oh you owe me more than you can ever pay back,” she said with a wink, backing towards the stairs. “Just take care of Magnus, okay?”

“You know I will.”

---

The next day, Magnus told Alec in all seriousness, in between fits of violent coughing, that he thought he was dying.

He seemed worse to Alec’s concerned gaze, and spent most of the day on the couch, either dozing, complaining, or adding the ever-growing mountain of white tissues that surrounded him.

Over the following few days, Alec forced him to drink copious glasses of orange juice, measured out doses of aspirin on a strict four-hourly regimen, and submitted to being forcibly cuddled by a whiny, wheezing warlock with good grace.

He squeezed more lemons than he could count to make a honey and lemon tea, which helped soothe Magnus’ throat at least a little.

He rubbed menthol balm into Magnus’ chest, which caused him to wrinkle his nose at the unpleasant stickiness, but also helped him breathe more freely.

But by the end of the week, despite all of their temporary remedies, Magnus was still miserable, and Alec would have done anything to make him better. The only thing that Alec hadn’t yet tried was Simon’s forty garlic clove soup.

With a sigh, Alec stood up and brushed a hand through Magnus’ hair. “Hey, I’m going to go sort out something for dinner. You okay here for a bit?”

The smile he got in response was wan, but he had to give Magnus points for effort. “Of course, sweetheart. Thank you for sorting it out, I’m sorry I’m still not up to much.”

“Don’t apologise,” Alec told him firmly and leant down for a kiss. “I want to do it.”

It took ten minutes of searching through their paper recycling to track down the paper bag Izzy brought over and the discarded recipe inside it, and Alec let out out a triumphant “Aha!” as he pulled it out.

He straightened out the crumpled piece of paper on the kitchen worktop and frowned at the first line. “A pestle and mortar? Where the hell am I going to find one of those?”

Alec knew Magnus had one - he’d seen him using it for potions, and later, for the new recipes he was learning - but a thorough search of all the kitchen cupboards proved fruitless. The only other place in the loft it could be would be the former apothecary, a place which Alec had always tried to hold as sacrosanct. But Magnus had been boxing up old potions ingredients the other day, hadn’t he? Maybe the pestle and mortar had got caught up with the rest of the stuff Magus was planning to pass to Catarina.

Slipping through the door of the apothecary, Alec took a second to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Little used over the last few months, the windows were shut up, and the clutter that Alec had grown used to seeing across the workspaces was gone. His stomach churned queasily at the reminder of how much Magnus had sacrificed for his sake.

Alec rounded the desk and knel, tugging the box towards him and opening it up. He was expecting to see bottles and jars of strange and nefarious potions ingredients - werewolf fur, or vampire fangs. Instead, what he saw was - tinsel.

Reams and reams of tinsel. And strings of lights, and glass baubles, and a gleaming gold star.

Alec stared for a moment. Why was Magnus getting rid of his christmas decorations? And why would he have told Alec that the box contained old potions ingredients…? Why had he lied?

He cast his mind back to the conversation they’d had that day, a sinking sensation in his chest. Magnus had said nothing about the contents of the box until after Alec had said he couldn’t wait for Christmas to be over…

The guilt that was his constant companion surged, and Alec tipped his head back with a sigh. Despite how hard he tried, he never seemed to stop making mistakes that ended up hurting Magnus. He hoped that this one would be easy enough to fix. With one hand, he fumbled to unlock his phone, and typed out a message.

hey i need ur help with sth. srry 2 ask i kno ur busy covering for me n uv loads already but. can u talk?

---

“Alec, I think I actually feel better today,” Magnus called as he shuffled out of his bedroom the next morning, his hair resembling a very stylish birds nest on top of his head. “I can breathe through my nose again! Why did I ever take it for granted? I will never not appreciate the hard work my nose does agai-”

He stopped, and his jaw dropped open. Alec smiled tentatively from where he sat in front of the bare pine tree he’d installed in the living room overnight.

Magnus’ eyes roamed the room, taking in the twinkling lights looped around the room, the tinsel on the railings of the balcony outside, the wreath of holly perched beside Alec on the coffee table. He brought one hand up to cover his mouth, his eyes wide.

“I hope you like it?” Alec said, standing and taking one hand in his. “I was looking for something in your apothecary yesterday and I found the christmas decorations you’d hidden in there, so I decided to surprise you.”

“And surprise me you have,” Magnus replied, his voice husky. “Did you do all of this by yourself? How?”

“I, uh. Might have had a little help. From some Christmas elves named Isabelle and Jace.” He admitted, sheepish. “Jace helped with the tree. Isabelle did the lights - that’s why they look so good, I would have had no clue.”

Magnus laughed, his face creasing up and his cheeks rounding, turning his eyes into happy half-moons. “Okay, that makes sense. I was wondering when you acquired a taste for interior decor. But why is the tree bare?”

“I thought we could do that bit together?” Alec replied, stroking one thumb over Magnus’ knuckles. “Sort of...start a new tradition, just you and I.”

Magnus’ eyes were dark and soft. “Alexander...I would love that. But… I hate to ask and possibly spoil this beautiful moment, but you didn’t seem all that enthused about celebrating Christmas last time we spoke about it? What changed?”

Alec pushed a hand through his hair and sighed. “You did. I figured that it must be important to you if you had all this stuff, and what’s important to you is important to me, Magnus. Christmas isn’t my thing, but maybe that’s just because I’ve never tried it before. I’ve tried a lot of new things with you, and I’ve loved every one. I can’t see that this will be any different. And I want us to make traditions and memories together. Nothing makes me happier.”

“Alexander...darling,” Magnus reached out to pull Alec’s face down to him, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Alec opened up to Magnus’ tongue urgently. His tongue stroked against Magnus’, the slick glide of their mouths against each others’ recalling something more primal. When Magnus pulls away, he does so with one last little bite at the bottom of Alec’s pout. ”Thank you for doing this for me, Alexander. I can’t tell you what it means that you love me like this.”

Alec nuzzled a little into the side of Magnus’ face. “I’d do anything to make you smile, you know? I just -” and he pulled away a little. “Magnus, I get why you didn’t say anything about the decorations, or Christmas generally, but I need you tell me when something is important to you, okay? I don’t always get things right but I definitely never will if you’re not honest with me about what you want.”

The rising sun outside cast a shadow of Magnus’ lashes onto his cheek as he glanced down. “I know, and I’m sorry. I… I still fall back on bad habits, sometimes. Feeling like my emotions or my needs are too… much. Like I should keep them reigned in. But I promise I’m trying, my darling, and I have faith I’ll get there, with you.”

Alec smiled. “Thank you. As long as you’re trying, and I’m trying...we’ll muddle our way through things together.”

“As a wise man, once told me,” Magnus leant in to whisper the words against Alec’s mouth, “relationships take effort.”

“And you know, I’m all for effort,” Alec agreed, and leant in to close the gap.

[sunnybugz]

only fools

chapter: iii

word count: 2555

authors note: i finished this a week ago and it’s been on ao3 but apparently i just,,, didn’t post it here?? lmao what

iii

4:50 PM, Play rehearsal

The next few weeks flew by. Soon enough they had started blocking for their play. Not much had happened with the whole Gina situation, sadly, but she did seem a tad more flirtatious if you asked Rosa (If you asked anyone else, it seemed as if they were going to marry within a week). The play was going wonderfully, people were doing great with their lines, and the characterisation was on point. Jake, Amy, and Charles continuously told Rosa and Gina how bad they felt for having to play homophobic, but the two of them would just roll their eyes. It was just a play, and they were all actors. The three of them had been more supportive than anyone could have ever asked for when Rosa came out.

Their Friday evening practice was going wonderfully. Thankfully, nobody was flubbing anything, and everyone was having fun. The main cast worked great together, even with Sophia in the mix. However, Rosa noticed Amy would hold Jake’s arm just a bit tighter when she was with them. Nobody could blame her, of course.

Their ten minute break was coming to an end. They had rehearsal until six PM, Monday through Thursday. Their only free day was Friday, which was usually just spent doing homework at this point because nobody had time to do any of it on rehearsal days. It was fine though, because that meant Rosa got to see Gina for even longer four days of the week, plus weekends. It was a dream come true, except not exactly, because most of Rosa’s dreams ended with someone dying. So it was even better than a dream.

Charles was in the middle of talking about some new restaurant he wanted the gang to go to when Director Holt spoke up. “Okay, break is over. I want us to work on a brand new scene today,”. You could feel the excitement in the room when that was announced. Adding new scenes was always fun, even if it was a bit messy in the beginning. Once everyone had come back to the stage, Director Holt began to speak again. “We’re going to work on Act 1, Scene 8, which is the final scene of Act One.”. A chorus of ‘ooh’’s erupted from the cast. Everyone knew this was the scene where Lola and June kiss. Where Rosa and Gina would kiss. It took place in a park at night, when nobody could see them. The scene was about how June is worried she wasn’t worth the trouble Lola was facing. It’s a singing scene, and Lola sings about how she could get lost in the galaxies behind June’s eyes, and how she would trade every star in the sky just to see her smile. It ends with a kiss. Rosa feels every emotion at once. Fear that she’ll do it wrong, excitement to finally do the scene, happiness to be finally kissing Gina, sadness that it won’t even be real, and mostly she just feels her heart pounding out of her chest.

“You ready Diaz? Let’s do this thang!” Gina says. A rush of relief floods over Rosa when she sees that Gina is excited. The two take their place on the stage, and they’re counted in to start. Rosa takes a deep breath and starts.

She sings the words from her heart, and wishes to whatever racially ambiguous God is out there that Gina could feel how Rosa feels about her. Rosa genuinely feels like these words are truth, because honestly, Rosa would kill a thousand men just for the privilege of hearing Gina speak. She would do anything for her.

Then the song ends, and they have to do it. Rosa freezes up for just a second, and thanks God for making it so that June, or Gina, was the one to lean in for the kiss.

Gina’s lips are on Rosa’s, and Rosa is shocked she doesn’t die of a heart attack right then and there. Gina has the softest lips, and they envelope Rosa’s in a warm kiss that makes her feel things she really shouldn’t be feeling at a play rehearsal. Rosa’s so caught up in her thoughts that she just sits there, frozen, while Gina kisses her. She doesn’t even realize it until Gina pulls away and smiles and Rosa is 100% sure that she could drop dead right then and there from that damn smile. It’s the most beautiful, totally Gina smile, and Rosa has fallen hard for it. Rosa smiles back. The cast cheers, and Rosa is pretty sure she thinks even Holt might have the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

The rest of practice, Rosa is completely messed up. People just give her raised eyebrows and knowing glances, because each one of them know exactly what, or really who is pre-occupying Rosa’s mind.

When rehearsal ends, Rosa heads to her locker to grab her backpack. Her locker is the only one out of her entire friend groups to be close to the auditorium, everyone else has lockers on the other side of the school. As Rosa is leaving the school, she hears Gina’s voice.

“Hey Rosie, think you can help me fix something up in the dressing room?” asks Gina. Of course, Rosa heads over. She heads into the dressing room and Gina is in there.

“What do you need help with?” Rosa asks, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. She knows she’s most likely bright pink by now, but if she isn’t, she will be soon.

“I just wanna ask you a question. Why didn’t you kiss me back? Was it weird? I can ask them to take it out if it is, you know I can convince them.” Gina says. Rosa takes a deep breath. It’s now or never, isn’t it?

“No, it’s not weird. Well it is, but not because of you. I mean it is because of you, but-”

“What are you saying?” Gina interrupts.

“I’m saying I like you Gina! And I know you would never like me back but I can’t stop being into you, I haven’t since I met you in eighth grade! But I know you would never like a girl like me, and I just have to deal with that. But that’s why I didn’t kiss you back. Because I was freaking out.” Rosa says, overcome with something braver than she is, despite how much she wants to be that brave girl. Gina looks at her in stunned silence for a moment that is about three seconds too long for Rosa to cope with.

And then Gina Linetti’s lips are locked with Rosa’s, for real this time. Rosa gasps in surprise at first, but then melts into the kiss. Gina kisses Rosa passionately, left hand on the side of her face, and right hand on her waist, just the way it is when they’re dancing.

It’s like fireworks going off in Rosa’s brain right now. She now notices that Gina’s lips taste slightly of cotton candy, and tha Gina keeps pulling Rosa in closer and closer. She and Rosa are in a perfect rhythm of kissing, and it’s like this moment was made just for the two of them. It’s like the rest of the world falls away and all there is is Gina’s lips and Gina’s hand on her waist and the smell of Gina’s shampoo and Gina, Gina, Gina. If she had to pick one moment to relive over again, it would be this one.

Rosa puts her arms around Gina’s neck as Gina guides her towards the wall. Rosa can’t believe it, she’s really making out with the most beautiful girl in the entire state of New York, probably the most beautiful girl in the country, in a high school dressing room. After another minute and a half, Gina pulls away. Rosa looks directly into Gina’s beautiful, blue eyes and breaks out the biggest smile. “Wow, that was…”, she starts, but can’t find a word to describe how mind bogglingly wonderful that just was.

“Yeah, you’re an even better kisser than I imagined. Which is saying a lot, the fact that you outdid even my brain.” Gina says, not taking her hands off of Rosa (not that she’s complaining). Rosa raises her eyebrows and shakes her head a little. Mostly because she’s unable to form words at the moment, but partly because it makes Gina laugh.

“Thanks, I guess? We really should get going, not that I don’t love this, but people are probably wondering what happened.” Rosa says, finally finding the ability to form a sentence.

Gina smiles. “Let’s go.”

11:21 PM, Rosa Diaz’s Bedroom

It’s been six hours, and Rosa hasn’t thought about one thing other than Gina’s lips on hers. The first time, it was awkward and strange, but their make out session in the dressing room had been absolute magic. The only thing is, she doesn’t know where her friendship with Gina stands now. She’s been scared to ask all night, as she doesn’t want things to be weird between the two. Rosa’s never been the romantic type, except for everything is so much different with Gina. It’s like Gina is this ethereal being and Rosa couldn’t escape her even if she wanted. Finally, Rosa decides to just call Gina. She’s always up late, so it’s almost guaranteed she’ll answer.

The phone rings three times before Gina picks up. “Gina Linetti Spaghetti Confetti, who dis?” She says. Rosa rolls her eyes and smiles.

“Gina, you know it’s me,” Rosa says. She hears Gina laugh on the other end.

“Yeah, but I’m a rascal. I’ve been wanting to answer the phone like that for weeks, but nobody calls me since it’s not 2009 anymore. You do realize we have a thing called texting now, right?” Gina says sarcastically. Rosa lets out a chuckle at that.

“Gina, we have to talk. About what happened earlier,” Rosa says. She really just wants things to be easy, but she knows from previous experience it’s so much worse to hold off on talking about the more difficult subjects than it is to just get them over with.

“What about it?” Gina asks, suddenly sounding serious.

Rosa takes a deep breath. “What are we? Are you into me, or was it just a kiss? I’ve been freaking out for the past few hours over it,” she confesses. Rosa feels terrified in this moment. Could she be reading into it? Is she being weird? Is Gina going to hate her?

She hears Gina take a deep breath on the other side of the line. “Rosie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, I know you’re not into me that way.”

Rosa feels confused now. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I shouldn’t have kissed you. I really, really like you, but that was so uncool of me. I know you aren’t interested in dating me.”

Woah there, back up. Since when has Rosa shown any signs of not being into Gina? All she ever thinks about is how much she’s into Gina. “Gina, I have no clue what you’re talking about. I’m like, super into you. I have been forever. I never thought you would be interested in me though.”

“Rosa, I’ve had a crush on you since the eighth grade! I thought I was being pretty obvious with my flirting, but I guess not. But why wouldn’t I like you? You’re gorgeous, for starters, plus you’re super talented and a total badass,” Gina says. “And the gorgeous thing. I know I already said it, but I feel like once isn’t enough.”

Rosa is blown away by this. How could Gina ever like Rosa? Gina was perfect, with her absolutely beautiful looks, and her amazing confidence, not to mention her humour. Rosa could go on and on about how perfect Gina was. “Gina, I started liking you the first day I met you. I don’t know how you never noticed.”

Gina laughs softly on the other end, and god Rosa could listen to that sound for the rest of her life and never feel like it was enough. “Well then. Where do we go from here?”

Rosa takes a deep breath. “Gina, will you be my girlfriend?”

Gina smiles. “I’d love to.”

10:03 AM, Rosa Diaz’s home

Rosa walks into the living room. Neither of her parents are home, so it’s just her and Juliet. Juliet is watching TV on the couch, wearing her pyjamas. Rosa sometimes doesn’t realize how much the thirteen year old looks like her. Tall, thin, with black, curly hair, an angular face, and a slightly edgy taste in fashion. Their older sister, Lillian, was the odd one out, as she was shorter than Juliet, curvy, with long, wavy hair. The only reason people could tell they're related was by surname.

When Rosa sits on the couch, her sister looks at her. “So, you and Gina?” Juliet asks. Rosa looks at her, completely shocked.

“How do you know about that?” Rosa asks. There was no way her little sister could have known about what went down with Gina.

“I could hear what was going on. This house has pretty thin walls, and our rooms are right beside each other. You really need to learn to talk quieter at night.” Juliet says, very matter-of-factly.

Rosa looks totally embarrassed. “Okay fine, me and Gina are dating. But what do you know about relationships anyways, you’re thirteen!”. Rosa is quite defensive when it comes to her personal life, despite the fact that she’s quite close with her sister.

“Uh, I’ve had three boyfriends Rosa. Keep up. And I’m really not surprised about you two ending up together, I could tell you were into each other when she came over for a sleepover with you last year. You two seriously never stopped staring at each other.” Juliet says. Rosa turns a deep shade of red.

“Jesus, did everyone know but me? Also, three boyfriends? Who? How did I not know about this?” Rosa exclaims. She’s starting to get very confused as to how oblivious she was to Gina liking her. She’s also confused on how her sister has dated almost the same amount of people she has.

“Troy Saxon for a month, Justin Moss for two and a half months, and Cameron Valdez for six weeks. And you didn’t notice because I’m smart and can cover my tracks.” Rosa was about to respond with something funny when she got a text from Gina.

Gina: hey babe, be ready in 45 minutes. i wanna take u somewhere xo

Rosa smiled big. She was going on a date with the Gina Linetti. The past 24 hours didn’t even seem real at this point. Why was the universe being so nice to her?

Rosa: i will be! can’t wait to see u xo

And with that, Rosa headed upstairs. She no longer just had a crush to impress, she now had a girlfriend.

And having Gina Linetti as her girlfriend was the best thing anyone could ever have, if you ask Rosa. Except nobody else would ever get a say on that in the future, because Gina was hers.

Thank you, universe, Rosa thought as she got ready.