#Could this be a contributing factor as to why it's taken so long?? No I enjoy drawing her like that lol

[sysig]

Getting closer, getting really close now I swear (Patreon)

[kiame-sama]

Little Spider, Fun and Games- (Yan!Chrollo x Reader)

Warnings; fem reader, yandere, yandere behavior, yandere relationship, blood, murder, causal slaughter, mention of kidnapping, chronic illness (narcolepsy), troupe opinions, fluff with murderers, a bit of domestic cuteness, nsfw, somnophilia, rando insults reader, unnamed character death,

By selecting read more you consent to view the content included and affirm you are of age to view content.

If you are a minor, go the hell away. This fic is not for you.

~~~~~~~~

You shivered slightly as another howl of wind whistled through the building, metal struts groaning from the force. A sudden warmth wrapped around you and you glanced over to see Chrollo had placed his coat over your shoulders. Truly, you hadn't even been aware that he was keeping tabs on you, but it didn't surprise you to find out either.

Chrollo was always ensuring your needs were met and quickly taken care of regardless of the situation you two may be in. Luckily the current situation you were in was a familiar one, hiding out in some abandoned building until whatever heist Chrollo has planned goes into motion.

"You seem cold, Little Spider."

"Yeah, I am kinda cold. We don't usually go anywhere like this for a heist..."

"How about I warm you up?"

"Chrollo, not here..!"

"I meant by using my nen, dear. What were you thinking?"

You felt the flustered feeling in your chest as you tried to avoid eye-contact with him, knowing he was thrilled to be teasing you. He had been suggestive for a reason, and you walked directly into his trap. There was little more that amused Chrollo beyond seeing you get so adorably flustered by his absolute lack of shame and open flirting.

"Ugh," the scoff that came from Feitan surprised you as the troupe didn't often comment on the relationship you had with their beloved boss, "too damn cute, stop."

You were almost hurt by the callous words before you realized that he meant your interactions were quite cute. The two of you were being painfully sweet with your domestic behavior and casual flirting. Everyone in the Troupe found the relationship you had with Chrollo to be extremely wholesome regardless of his less than wholesome personality.

It was obvious- even to you- how much Chrollo favored you over anyone else.

~~~~~~~~

Waking up was usually very difficult for you, even on a good day. From the alluring pull of sleep to the rather comfortable feeling of a bed, everything worked against you. Even your lover was just another contributing factor to your constant desire to sleep.

Chrollo contributed to your need for sleep in plenty of ways, but the most prominent being his rather unusual appetite for intimacy with you. It did give you a twinge of pride to know that he was so addicted to you that he sought out intimate behavior and actions whenever he could. But Chrollo had more energy than you did and it was rare that the man ever actually slept.

As if to balance the difference in sleeping habits and physical needs, Chrollo had developed quite the kink for Somnophilia. So on the evenings where you dozed off early or spend an extended time sleeping, you fully anticipated him to help himself to your sleeping form. This is why you were not particularly surprised to wake face-down with your hips propped up and a distinctly familiar voice moaning.

A loud moan from you let him know you woke up, feeling an intense pulse of pleasure from being caught. Though you were quite alright with his somnophilic behavior, he still felt a certain thrill if you ever woke up while he was on top of you. The act of being caught doing perverse things with your sleeping body was just the thing his narcissism needed when it came to his perception of his hold over you.

Chrollo continued pounding into you frantically, feeling your walls tighten around him and coax him closer to his orgasm. Your moans were punctuated by each thrust, somewhat muffled as you gripped tightly to the bed beneath you. It didn't take long for the feeling to overtake you as you were practically thrown into your climax, feeling your walls trying to clamp down on his pounding cock. He was quick to follow and let out a groan of satisfaction, thrusting a few more times just to squeeze out every last bit of cum.

As the afterglow of your orgasm faded away, you felt Chrollo lay his body over yours and gently kiss your neck. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pressed as physically close to you as possible. You could feel the way your heart seemed frantic in comparison to his heartbeat which rolled in a steady rhythm in his chest.

"It seems you've caught me red-handed, Little Spider."

Chrollo could only chuckle as you failed to respond, still catching your breath and trying to adjust to being awake. No matter how many times he got to see you fall to pieces in his hands, he would always feel such a thrill just being with you. Years without significant amounts of emotion left him drowning in a cocktail of dopamine and serotonin that he was almost dangerously addicted to.

"It's not often I get caught, what ever should I do to convince you to keep this between us, hm?"

"How about another round?"

"Darling, I thought you'd never ask."

~~~~~~~~

"I'm here to make a deal with the leader of the Phantom Troupe, not some dumb slut."

The words echoed in your mind as the arrogant man sneered at you, clearly having a rather negative opinion of you and your presence. Though his words shouldn't have bothered you, they actually managed to sting more than a little bit.

There was a long moment of silence as you turned away, not wanting to look at the man who so gleefully insulted you. Naturally, the Spiders- that had been rather bored and relaxed when the man approached- were all furiously glaring at the man now. The Spiders cared about you just as they cared about Chrollo and the man insulting you easily set them all off.

"There are two leaders of the Phantom Troupe. Myself and Little Spider. What deal do you think you could make with us when you so blatantly disrespect one of the leaders of the Troupe?"

The man seemed confused before he glanced at you again, the weight of his folly suddenly smacking him in the face as he realized what he just did. He seemed to now take note of the many eyes glaring at him venomously despite how slight the offense may have seemed at first glance. The only thing that could save him was your forgiveness, and with how you refused to look at him, he was unlikely to recieve such a blessing.

"Wait, but I- hey!"

He struggled against the crushing grip of both Machi and Feitan as they forced him into a kneeling position, his arms twisted and being slowly crushed. Despite his clear discomfort and upset tone, you still refused to look at him or at any of the Troupe. Chrollo took this as a sign that you would not forgive the transgression and acted accordingly.

All the man could do was let out a choked sound as his arms were suddenly removed, a ballpoint pen sticking out of his forehead. He collapsed forward into the dirt floor and silence once again returned to the Troupe. You refused to look back before Chrollo wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Are you okay, Little Spider?"

"I guess."

"Don't worry about what that fool said, you are much more than that to me. And if anyone else tries to insult you, I'll kill them."

[essektheylyss]

This was entirely tangential to this post from @utilitycaster which is why this is its own post, but the tags made me think about what feels most compelling about Liliana to me, and it's really because there's such an interesting approach to redemption in terms of the sunk cost fallacy to be had there.

There have been plenty of comparisons between Liliana and Essek, but I don't think they're really situations that can be compared. Essek had done one horrible thing (that was of relevence to the story; it is implied that he's taken other actions that he feels were wrong, but we don't know what those entail nor do the Nein care enough to ask, so per narrative convention, they do not matter for analysis) and was only still involved in it to the extent that he couldn't take it back, so to survive he had to continue covering his tracks. But he was also incentivized to otherwise act in alignment with the group that was not those on behalf of whom he had made terrible choices, because he was still living in the Dynasty, and as such wasn't actively perpetuating those actions beyond the cover up.

Liliana on the other hand is acting with the Vanguard and has been furthering if not personally committing atrocities on their behalf for a number of years, continuing to the present. Like Essek, she believes her involvement in the cause to be a difficult choice that was made for noble reasons, and now can't see a way out. But she is also relieved to be told to stay, though at the point that they discuss her leaving, she is alone and outside the immediate range of contact or oversight from the Vanguard. It seems reasonable that she could disappear with a decent headstart, and perhaps become untraceable quickly enough to be safe from anyone following. With this context, returning to the Vanguard with the intention of feeding information to the opposition feels like the riskier choice, but crucially it is the devil she knows.

I actually liken this more to Cassandra de Rolo than Essek. Cassandra was manipulated against her brother by the Briarwoods, but this was also spurred by having watched Percy seemingly leave her for dead. There are legitimate reasons why the Briarwoods, as the people who rescued her and then kept her alive for many years, are the easier option in which to place her trust. She knows what she's getting from that vantage point and how to handle it. She doesn't inherently have faith that someone she only knew as a young and helpless child, who ran from the hardships she's faced, would have the strength or willingness to do what she has found necessary for survival.

I think that Liliana's actions are more willful, not least because she was not a child nor in mortal peril when she joined the Vanguard, but she sees herself as having made difficult choices when only faced with difficult options, and I do think they have been difficult. She didn't want to leave her family; she doesn't want to hurt the young Ruidusborn under her care; she is probably genuinely sorry that innocent people were considered a necessary sacrifice for what she sees as the greater good. It is psychologically taxing to feel as though one is always picking between bad options, which is a significant contributing factor for why people buy into a sunk cost for so long. And over time, those hard decisions become easier, because you know what to expect from the outcome. Though Liliana is well aware that she might be killed for a misstep among the Vanguard, she already knows how to act to maintain their favor, but how she might be received on Exandria by those fighting the Vanguard, even with the Hells vouching for her, is anyone's guess.

This is a very real reason why people remain in cults and struggle to push back against this kind of conditioning: because the decision to leave feels more immediately perilous than the decision to stay. (On a certain level making these kinds of choices and actions habitual is a fundamental basis behind a lot of military conditioning.) And if you are acting in the interests of your own survival, but that survival comes at the cost of that of countless others who have not, in fact, made any threat or harm against you to begin with, then is the nature of your survival morally defensible?

This analysis isn't a question of whether Liliana will commit to her role as double agent and turn fully against the Vanguard, or even which one of these is a "better" story; this is about what the story might say if she doesn't. Yes, she might commit to a different path than the one she's on and make an effort to redeem herself, but it is also a perfectly coherent and interesting story if she doesn't.

[celaenaeiln]

On the subject of Bruce, Dick, and the Titans, do you think part of Bruce’s issues stem from jealousy?

Like being jealous over the fact that after his parents died he struggled for so long with only Alfred and it took Dick to break through that and help him cultivate a genuine sense of family again, but now Dick is branching out and expanding his family while Bruce hasn’t been able to do that (at the point of Dick being fired)

Follow up to that, do you think that if it is partially jealousy and insecurity, do you think it’s a contributing factor for Jason’s adoption? Not just that he wanted to help another kid but also because he subconsciously wanted to show Dick/ mimic Dick in being able to move past the tragedy of his past by finding new family. Like a shitty slightly spiteful move of ‘hey you’re moving on and doing better but look so am I!’ even if it’s not exactly true. Sort of like pretending your dating someone at a party your ex is at even tho ur still grieving the relationship and not over ur ex.

Other sidenote, love your posts and whenever I come on tumblr I check to see if you’ve posted. Hope you are having a good day ❤️

Thank you!!

So for the first one, Bruce wouldn't exactly be jealous of Dick for having a support system. He wants Dick to be happy.

Outsiders (2003) Issue #29

But he also doesn't want Dick to go. He's jealous that he has to share Dick's attention and his jealousy stems from the fact that he isn't the one Dick goes to.

The second one is spot on!!! OOF THE ANALOGY WAS TOO GOOD!!!!

The main reason for adopting Jason was not just because he wanted to help him, but because Bruce was jealous and angry and hurt that Dick left. That he chose the Titans over him.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

Like you said, "hey you’re moving on and doing better but look so am I!"

In the other version Bruce literally fires him, and it's name-called, for Dick's devotion to the Titans.

I think it's sometimes hard to reconcile Bruce's relationship with Dick because of how many Robins and how much the family has grown but Dick and Bruce's relationship is different.

Batman: Court of Owls Issue #1

"Dick, you know me better than anyone, except perhaps for Alfred..."

It was and is always going to be Dick and Bruce. The Titans call them out on it, the batfamily calls them out on it, that's just the way things are.

So imagine someone you're this deeply connected to, your lifeline, leaving you for someone else. The Jealousy tore him apart and Bruce does what Bruce does best when he's hurt - he pushes people away.

Dick has talked Bruce out of everything in his life. If he didn't have amnesia and become Ric Grayson, Bruce's mental state would not have taken a downward spiral. During his post-Selina leaving him at the alter- nightmares, he has one where Selina is dying and Bruce says, "this is just like Dick."

Batman (2016) Issue #63

Nightmares about Dick's death are bleeding over into his nightmares of Selina's.

Batman (2016) Issue #63

It wasn't altruism which made him make the move, it was spite.

I made a post a long time ago for an ask that asked me about Dick and Bruce's complicated relationship that really goes into depth about why the two of them are inseparable. Dick's said it himself too in the action comics. They both knew the partnership was going to end because Dick wanted to leave but Bruce couldn't let him go so he decided to hurt Dick before Dick could hurt him.

He's canonically described as a foil to Batman. So, yes, by Batman's own admission, Dick is the person who knows him best so jealousy of Dick leading a life, prioritizing people that aren't him, plays a huge role in his actions and interactions with Dick.

[msbarrybeeson]

Before You Go | Future Donnie & April Insight (Part VI)

(Reader Included)

A/N: Any constructive criticism is appreciated. Reader comments and feedback are also welcomed a lot. 

I have been gone for a long time. Just occupied with my studies! No fan fiction author curse or anything (yet).

Summary: You’re both adopting-parents of Casey. The story follows the perspective of Donatello and April O’Neil during the Kraang apocalypse. You and Leonardo decided to ask them to watch over thirteen-year-old Casey.

In other words, familial interactions between April, Donnie, and Casey Jr.

Reader: Gender-neutral pronouns are used, except the terms “(Mom / Dad)” are also used. Second POV.

Pairing: Rise! Future! Leonardo X Reader

Warnings: Bittersweet.

Word Count:  ~3490

Parts: One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / ...

~

Donnie knew how much of a genius he was.

It was no surprise after all. In his late teens, he improved NASA’s satellites to communicate with planets light centuries away. He cured breast cancer through the use of protons in radiation therapy to target specific cells, rather than affecting the harmless. Hell, he even managed to discover a new type of radioactive particles: mutons. By that point, he—.

“—should have been given a Nobel Prize in Medicine and in Chemistry.” Donnie cursed under his breath. He strolled over to his lab bench, equipping his goggles.

Squeeeak. 

April– who was found seated on Donnie’s roughed-up, spinning gaming chair– raised an eyebrow. Her hair had grown out and was left unbounded. Faint wrinkles and eye bags on her features displayed maturity, in contrast to a couple of years ago. However, everyone was well aware that time was not the only factor. 

“Whatcha going on about now, Donnie?”

The softshell huffed. “Recall when I wrote a report about my experimental findings with an invention meant to revive a deceased human being?”

“...You mean the one where you thought it was a good idea to open up Curie’s tomb? Even gone as far as to ask for my help?” April grimaced. “Who’d ever forget that.”

She proceeded to massage her temples. 

“God. You were in all kinds of messed up for that, Don.”

Lightning-like yellow sparks flickered as Donnie had his robotic hands occupied with a butane torch. His goggles were sealed tight around his eyes as he built a oval-looking device on his lab bench. Titanium outer-layer over a seriously complex circuit-board; appearing as if Samsung marketed grenades.

He scoffed. “Oh please. It wasn’t as if I’d taken long to understand how Marie Curie deserves her rest for her great contributions to radiation. Thus is why–.”

“–You decided to take a poor random husband of an old wife,” April interjected.

“Ahem.” Donnie pronounced. “The poor woman was begging me for her husband to be alive again. I was simply gracious and generous enough to not charge her for the process.” He set aside the butane torch. “At least it progressed well; he stayed alive for an additional two years. It gave his wife psychological comfort, and I was able to submit my paper to the N.S.F..” 

He picked up a screwdriver. “Except....” 

April could tell her friend’s eye was twitching. 

“They rejected my findings, nearly had me detained, and claimed it was far too ‘unethical.’” Donnie raised his volume. “Scoff! As if those researchers weren’t committing the crime themselves! Taking bodies away from families and claiming them as scientific property without permission.

If I could go back in time and shove my documents in their jaws, you bet I would.”

April smirked. “Well, I have my regrets too, Donnie.”

“You sound rather amused, April. Is that so surprising? And here I never thought you would regret your part-time job at Albearto’s. Or the fact you wasted money to switch to journalism in university.”

WHACK!

April threw her bat at Donnie’s head, flying back to her hand like a boomerang.

“Watch your mouth, mister. I may have regretted Albearto’s, but not a single moment in my life did I ever regret my journalism passion.” She stood up.

“Ouch.” The softshell vocalized, squinting his eyes toward her. His robotic clampers paused, setting aside the torch and taking off his goggles. 

“Mind yourself, April. Horse-playing is forbidden in the laboratory. I am not consenting to having yet another silver-titanium apparatus get scratched because of you.” Donnie gritted his teeth. “Can you hear the negative connotation?”

“Seriously, Donnie? Where’d that come from? Not only was that years ago but it ain’t anything except a simple accident.” 

“‘Simple accident?’” the softshell repeated with dramatic offense. “An accident, like many others in science labs, which could have caused severe damage! Remember the incident when your teacher dumped bleach and vinegar into the trash bin?

You know, if you had paid any attention in your chemistry class, those two would make mustard gas?” Donnie side-eyed his friend. “Simple accidents can have serious consequences, O’Neil.”

A hand crept up the lab bench.

“Uh-huh, and I’m supposed to believe an instance of me knocking over your phone and books would kill somebody?” April crossed her arms. “If anything, the blame’s yours for not organizing your desk when you got drunk on coffee.”

The hand took ahold of the butane torch.

“Donatello? Disorganized? Sounds cheap coming from you, a student majoring in Journalism.”

April pulled up her coat’s sleeves. “Oh boy, you’re about to get it—.”

Squeeeak!

Heads spun and found a 13-year old boy, replacing April’s spot on Donnie’s chair. Casey eyed the torch with a great yet concerning amount of curiosity.

“Yo, what’s this for, Uncle Don?”

At lightning speed, while April ran to move the gaming chair away further from the workbench, Donnie snatched the tool from his hands. “Child. Casey. Young man.” The softshell heaved loudly. “I must inform you this is NOT meant to be handled with such casual ease. How in Hawking did you even—.”

“Don’t your lab have a passcode or something?” 

“–Is what I am wondering myself, O’Neil. I refuse to believe this child remembers the beginning thirty numbers of π–.”

“Nope, only us.” April and Donnie lifted their gazes to his lab entrance. You leaned on the frame while a dear red-eared slider stood just behind. A couple of steps inside, and the metallic lab door shut close. 

Donnie– strangely– was quick to hide his device-in-progress off to the side.

“You’re back!” April grinned. “Hell, you would not believe the convo Donnie and I were having a minute ago.” She hurried to hug you.

“Figures,” Leo remarked. “We could practically hear you yards off.”

“Sounds like things never get old.” You smiled.

There was a side-eye between Donnie and April, before the Commander proceeded to inquire, coughing: “Anyhow.. care to explain the occasion? You two don’t seem to be in a hurry.”

“The only times you ever visit my laboratory are to prepare for immediate combat engagement, and you look awfully collected.” The softshell furrowed his brows.

“No, no.” You waved your hands, shaking your head. “Thank God no. We came here to ask if you two could take care of our Casey here while we head out.” The other turtle scrunched his in-quote eyebrows. “You— You came here to request us to... babysit him?”

April jabbed him in his plastron.

“You see? Just like I said.” Leo turned to you. “I know my brother, love. Don’s not the kind of guy to take responsibility for a kid. Or anyone, really.”

“Hold on.” Donnie narrowed his eyes. “I never said I refused, Leo.”

“Don’t know, it sounds like it to me.”

“Well, my misinformed brother, contrary to your belief, I am perfectly capable of handling a child.”

You huffed with amusement. Your husband only winked back.

“If you say so, Don.”

“Where are you two heading off for if you needed us to watch over him?” April inquired. “Wondering, ‘cause this never happened even when you two leave for patrol.”

“Just finding some time for ourselves.”

April exclaimed, “As in a honeymoon? Why not just say so? We’ll leave you two alone–.”

“–In this economy and climate?” Donnie interjected. “Has it also not been six years since your yet-to-be-legal marriage?”

“Alright, alright,” Leonardo chuckled. “Cut us some slack, bro. Finding time wasn’t easy when there’s Kraang above our necks.”

“Right, and you’re going on a honeymoon, how?” The softshell crossed his arms. “Simply because you’re the leader does not equate to you making wise decisions, Leo.”

“His ōdachi can teleport anyone to anyplace, we have some hope we can easily teleport to a remote area,” you answered. “One without Kraang infestation. It’ll be hard, but we may as well try.”

“Bonus points if we find clear skies and an ocean.” The red-eared turtle grinned, wrapping his arm over your shoulders.

“What’s a honeymoon, (Mom / Dad)?”

Your hand went to caress Casey’s cheek. “Parent quality time. It just means you get to handle yourself like the responsible grown-up you’ll become one day. Just promise me you’ll be on your best behavior around Uncle Don and Auntie April?”

“I promise, (Mom / Dad)!”

“Good boy,” Leo laughed, ruffling the kid’s hair.

“You didn’t ask Mikey and Raph to help out too, or?”

“Between you and me, I think you guys are better of making sure Casey doesn’t get into any chaos,” you whispered to April. “Don’t tell them that, though.”

She laughed. “Okay, I see how it is. You both have fun.” 

Donnie bit his lip. Right as Leonardo and (Name) turn to exit the laboratory, he extended his arm out to them.

“Leo, (Name).”

You two faced back to him once more.

“Don’t kill yourselves out there.”

Everyone’s eyes widened– April, you, and Leonardo himself. But the brother in blue snickered, holding a smile that reached his eyes. “So you do also care for me, Don. And all this time I thought you were plotting to put me in my grave or something.”

“We won’t.” Leo placed a hand on your shoulder. “You got my word.”

“Bye (Mom / Dad)! Bye Papa!”

“We’ll be back soon, Casey!”

Donnie stood in silence as you finally left, leaving himself with none other than his best friend and his nephew. “I refuse to believe this is the future we have to deal with.”

“Times changed all of us, didn’t they?” April spoke. “One day we wish each other a good one, and the next, we hope we just don’t die. I could’ve been a famous news anchor by now, make my mother happy, fight crime without worrying about dying the next second.

..I wonder if there’s anyone else out there besides the small number of us down here.”

“..I doubt it.”

Donnie pulled himself together and walked back to his workbench, operating his clampers to work once again. He put on his goggles. Casey, being a young teenager of enthusiasm, peeked over.

“Watch yourself, boy,” April warned.

“Don’t worry about me, Auntie. I’m only standing over here.” Casey narrowed his eyes upon the glowing and metal-like ball his uncle had his tools on. “What are you working on, Uncle Don?”

“A sphere.”

“A sphere?”

“You heard correctly.”

“That sounds kind of boring.”

Donnie had to hold himself back from remarking with: ‘That is exactly what every child whose intellect is doomed would say.’

“I’m sure your mother would find it rather moving.”

“(Mom / Dad)? I don’t understand what’s emotional about a ball, though.”

“Hey Casey.” April coughed. “Why not tell us about your mask here? Haven’t taken a good look at it before. Maybe Uncle Don would like to hear it too.”

“You actually want me to talk about my mask?”

“Ain’t a problem, is it?”

“No.” He fidgeted with his fingers a bit. “You don’t have anything else to do?”

“We were just told to watch over you, kid.”

“Yeah, but everyone I know is always busy with the Kraang or supplying weapons. I never really get chances to hang out.”

There was a brief pause in the butane torch’s flame.

April’s expression softened. Her hand came up to brush his black hair. “Things have gotten calmer up there. So you’ve got plenty of time with us now.”

Casey smiled.

“So your mask?” 

The boy alternated between covering his face and removing it. “(Mom / Dad) gave it to me. She told me it is based on the one worn by my biological mother. (Mom / Dad) also said that my birth mother was kind of crazy-funny and likes to be loud. She would have a stick to play– what was it– hockey?

I don’t know what kind of game hockey is supposed to be, but I guess it’s nice to know how life was like before all the Kraang.”

A sad smile crept on April’s lips. 

“Anyways, I thought the mask looked kind of plain, so I decided to draw red marks on it. See?” Casey showed his mask off, fingers tapping the surface. “Guess who it looks like!”

There were two bold and thick streaks of red. Each one ran through one eye, truly a defining characteristic. The Commander chuckled, already imagining how much pride her friend in blue would feel from the fact a kid– let alone one he had been parenting– looked up to him so much.

“You know, I am seeing someone familiar here.” April hummed as she put on a thoughtful facade. Fingers holding her chin and everything. “Got to be Uncle Don.”

Named turtle paused for a moment and raised a brow.

“Seriously, Auntie April?” On the other hand, Casey gave her an incredulous look and shook his head. “You probably want to get your eyes checked out, ‘cause Uncle Don doesn’t have any red stripes.” Off to the side. “And even if he did, he won’t look as cool as Dad.”

April snickered behind her palm as Donnie eyed the boy from behind his goggles.

“You’re right, you’re right. Just messing with you, kid.” Her hand ruffled his hair once more. “Sounds like you really admire your Papa, don’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Dad has an awesome sword that opens up portals. He always moves so quickly whenever he’s fighting. Bam! And the Kraang’s gone!” The teenager stretched his arm for emphasis. “Even as the leader, Papa knows when to get serious and when to make people laugh. He also cares a lot about me, (Mom / Dad), you guys, and everyone!”

It made even Donnie himself smile. 

However, the way Casey’s enthusiasm died down had not gone unnoticed. “I’ve always wanted to help out though.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “I want to fight the Kraang right by his and (Mom / Dad)’s side. Except I barely get the chance to, because they keep telling me to stay close to base and hide behind a giant rock.”

April crossed her arms and went quiet. His feelings were nothing new. In fact, she experienced the same thing herself, seeing she had always been a human. It was like that until–.

“Have no hard feelings,” Donnie spoke up, his hands and eyes remained on his spheric gadget. The sparks were flying. “Your parents are merely worried about your well-being.”

“I know, I know. They won’t have to though, if I can have enough training or something.” Casey sighed. “Then again, I also know I’m only a normal sensitive human.

...Why can’t I be a mutant instead?”

“Ahem. You are classified as a human. That is a true statement and one you cannot change.” Donnie hummed. “However, that does not mean you cannot be strong and capable in other ways.”

“Why does it sound like you’ve been in my place before?”

“Perhaps I did. Did you truly think being a soft-shell turtle is easy? I happened to be born as one of the only Testudines species whose outer shell cannot protect.” Donnie remarked. “Casey, your mask.” His hand signaled.

“What about my mask?”

“I merely want to add something.”

Confused, he hopped off the chair and handed the mask over. “Hmm. As long as you don’t mess with the stripes, Uncle Don.”

“Who says I won’t?”

Casey kicked Donnie’s leg.

“‘Ow,’ I say sarcastically without feeling physical pain.”

“Hmph.” He crossed his arms. “Why do you keep saying things like that?”

“Such as?”

“You say those action verbs, even when you’re already doing them.”

April snorted. “Just his thing, kid. Uncle Don’s got his special quirks.”

“Do you have a quirk?”

“Picking unnecessary fights for one,” Donnie commented.

“You only call them ‘unnecessary,’ because you never want to fix the problem.”

He rolled his eyes. “My solution would’ve been ten times more efficient if you had allowed my technology and I to do the work.”

Casey wondered. “Does your tech ever go haywire, Uncle Don?”

“No.”

“Oh man,” April began, “you should’ve been there for this one time. Your Uncle Don was building some kind of overprotective bed to keep your late Gramps from waking up from his beauty sleep.”

“Gramps likes to sleep?”

“You’d be surprised to hear that he sure does.”

“Then what happened?”

“Uncle Don asked your Dad, Uncle Mikey, and Uncle Raph to try punching, slicing, throwing whatever they could on the bed. They were attacking it like crazy!”

“And then?” 

“And the bed was even more insane, ‘cause there were actual missiles shooting out! They went straight for his brothers. At some point, it got overboard, so Uncle Don tried to command it to stop.”

“I’m hearing a ‘but’ coming.”

“But it malfunctioned and thought Uncle Don was the enemy!”

“However!” Donnie pointed his finger up, interrupting the story-telling. “It did not take long for my creation to recognize his master.”

“Still went haywire in my book,” April remarked. 

“Ignoring that.” His robotic hand tapped the edge of his workbench, grabbing Casey’s attention. “Come here, young man.” He slid back the mask, except in his hands, it felt as if the frame had thicken.

“It looks the same, but it doesn’t feel the same?”

“Try wearing it over your face.”

The boy did as told. All of a sudden, a bunch of green rectangles and words appeared in his vision. He gasped in awe. He spun around slowly, watching the rectangle focus on a figure through the wall.

“Yes yes, I know. I am well aware of how amazing I am.” Donnie huffed in pride. “I have opted to construct an interface with your mask. I cannot see why you shouldn’t have something to defend yourself with,” he reasoned. “I have other updates in mind later on. As of now, however, your mask will help you detect life forms across other rooms or through other objects.” 

“That’s so cool!” The boy hesitated though. “But I don’t want to break it or anything.”

“Hey.” April rested her hand on Casey’s shoulder, giving a firm squeeze. “Our resources are already scarce. Using then losing them is better than nothing. You better make the most of our tech. Understood, soldier?”

Casey grinned underneath his mask. He fixed his posture up and saluted. “Gotcha–! Understood, Commander!” 

He faced the inventor, whose hands were already back to being occupied with the “sphere.” “Thanks so much, Uncle Don!” Casey exclaimed, leaping towards the turtle to give a tight hug. “You’re the best!” 

Upon contact, Donnie stiffened up, but his lack of experience with physical touch did not prevent a smile forming on his face. He extended a robotic arm, patting Casey’s back. 

The boy then scanned around curiously with his mask. “Hey! Think I spot Uncle Mikey and Uncle Raph two floors down! They’re holding hands over a table or something. Why are so many people circling around them?”

April rolled her eyes. “Sounds like another arm-wrestling match between the our youngest and oldest brother.” 

Just like that, Casey booked it out of the laboratory so quickly, it reminded her of a certain red-eared slider. “What the–! Casey!” April groaned. “And here I thought we don’t have to deal with runaway kids. I better catch up to him.” 

“Would not worry about him too much,” Donnie commented. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Considering we will not always be alive to protect him... the sooner we leave him to himself, the easier it will be for him to survive alone.” 

“Hey. Come on now.” April walked to her best friend’s side. “Don’t you say things like that. We’re all going to survive this together–.”

“April.” Slight pain wavered in his voice. “You know as well as I do how our current reality is. It is only a matter of time before the Kraang finds everyone.” 

“Yet you’re still here trying.”

No response.

“It’s all because of the kid, isn’t it?” April affirmed. “He ain’t any genius prodigy you were expecting long ago. But he gave you a reason to try– he became someone worth fighting for.”

“I would not put it as simply as that.”

She shrugged. “That’s how I’d say it. You know you’re not the only one whose life changed because of Casey.”

Donnie paused his work, turning off the butane torch and finally pulling his goggles off his eyes again. “...Casey reminds me of when we were young, being rash and immature teenagers like any other. I hate admitting to such thing, but I was one too. And I hate admitting much more how much I missed those times.

The child has known nothing of the trouble we’ve experienced outside, April: when Cassandra was killed, when Draxum was torn apart, when Dad decided to sacrifice himself despite the slim odds.” His hands clenched into fists.

“Do not expect me to have any false hope for our future, but do not assume I would want Casey to feel the same way. For as long as he can, I want him to hold onto that false hope.”

“...” April had her arms crossed. Her eyes slowly came to linger on the workbench. “Is that ‘sphere’ his false hope?”

“..No. Not his.” Donnie traced his thumb over his contraption. “It’s for (Name).”

[miasmaghoul]

I just, I don't even know what to say

W O W

Ok, serious chat for a moment. Warnings for mentions of an ED and medical mistreatment.

It's so frustrating to still see shit like this when I grew up in the days of fat free everything and Weight Watchers ads every 5 minutes on TV.

Why is it fat people that everyone agrees to dogpile on? We're bullied incessantly for something that a lot of us can't even fix or help, because people who AREN'T fat assume we're just lazy pigs. Like yeah, please just disregard my physical debility and MULTIPLE hormonal issues and just assume that I just shovel food into my mouth constantly. Oh, you say I can't have an eating disorder because I'm fat and "those people" are skinny? BOY DO I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU!

It's bullshit, full stop. I still struggle with my ED, but the older I've gotten the more open and honest with myself I've become. I've never sought treatment for it because, again, I'm still fat. The one time I did bring it up to a doctor, he said "well if you do have an eating disorder then you aren't doing a very good job." I wish I were making that up.

Fat is in my genes, and there are so many other contributing factors it isn't even funny. It's so pounded into our heads that we NEED to be thin (mostly targeting women, let's be real) in order to have value, and I'm so fuckin sick of still hearing about the latest severely unhealthy fad diet or what fucking celebrity is on ozempic.

Which, by the way, I did have pushed on me a couple years ago when regular people could still get their hands on it. It made me feel so much worse. Every dose would trigger a binge, and I would feel horrible for days afterwards. I told my doctor (different from the other one I mentioned) this, and she told me that it was just something I was going to have to deal with because look, you've lost 20lbs since your last visit!

I felt worse than I had in YEARS, but it didn't matter because my body was becoming more socially acceptable. Do you want to know how many times doctors have tried to shove weight loss surgery down my throat? Countless. No matter how many times I say I'm not even there to talk about my weight, and that those surgeries are NOT for me, someone always brings it up. It's crazy how hurtful being ignored for knowing your own body is, because someone else thinks you need to change.

I wish this was something I had figured out when I was younger, but alas. I wore a hoodie over my clothes for 6 years straight, regardless of how hot it was outside, just to try to hide. I made myself miserable, ate barely anything (which would just trigger a binge, of course) and had it beat into my head constantly that my weight was the most important thing about me.

Here's the thing it took me way too long to learn:

IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER

You know what the number on the scale is? It's just a number. Your weight, high or low, is simply a tiny part of who you are as a human. If others choose to judge you based on it, that's not a failure on your part. It's on theirs. Being fat is not a crime, nor is it deserving of the insults and sneers we get in public spaces. People will always find a reason to stare, to whisper and giggle, and the best thing you can do for yourself is not give them the time of day.

I realize that's not easy. It's taken me 30+ years to reach a point where I've realized that going out in public is a necessity, and that the only reason I think people are staring at me is because advertisements like this punched the concept into my fragile little mind as a kid. At the end of the day, this is the one thing all fat people need to know:

Being fat is not a moral failure.

There is nothing wrong with you just because you need bigger clothes, mobility aids, or help from others. I don't care what anyone says - your weight is no one's business but your own. You want to lose weight? Go for it! More power to you, you'll get nothing but support from me. But there's nothing wrong with not wanting to do that either. That's really what it comes down to - the assumption that there's something inherently wrong with us because we're bigger than other people.

That's the part that needs to stop. And if anyone ever needs a reminder, my asks are always open. You're beautiful, I promise. 💜

Thank you for coming to my TED talk lmao

(I'm sure some asshole anons will come at me for "glorifying obesity" or "promoting unhealthy lifestyles". I assure you I am not. I am simply trying to help normalize a different mindset. If you're upset that fat people exist and that I'm saying they deserve the same care and compassion as anybody else, then you need to do a little bit of internal examination there. I promise fat people have not hurt you by virtue of existing in larger bodies ♡)

[blackpilljesus]

There's a strong link between the way moids treat cattle/animals and the way they treat women. Believing they're here for moids to use as they see fit, keeping them in enclosures to extract from them while claiming to protect them when they've forced them to be dependent on moids, forcing them to reproduce so they can have more fodder to exploit, and domesticating them.

Saw a video of torture devices that were used on women that were anything but quiet docile submissive slaves. Considering this and things like the witch trials, authorities turning a blind eye most times when moids kill women but imprisoning women who fight back against abusers, moids impregnating -raping- girls whose bodies hadn't developed yet (which could be a contributing factor to why we have a huge gap inbetween our physical strength) moids seeking younger women & girls to reproduce with because these women wont have reached a level of self actualisation to realise how pathetic the xy is, etc. I believe that moids have -attempted to- domesticate women through femicide as well as social punishments & torture.

Emphasis on "attempt" because I dont think women are naturally the empathetic emotionally observant yet mindless mommy bangmaids moids want them to be. There are a few far gone but most just act in a manner that pleases maIes to survive. The difference in womens behaviour when there's maIes around vs when there's not is the biggest telltale sign of this.

Women who weren't useful to maIe supremacy were killed off or brutalised into conforming. Women who conformed went on to reproduce.

This reddit post from the (rip) blackpillfeminism sub explains this concept so well:

This is all something that explains our environment. The war has been fought & the damage has been done. What we see/live today are consequences of the aforementioned. Moids have taken everything from women they are literal terrorists they wont change & cant be forgiven idgaf. Most we can do is save possible lives going through this by refusing to add to it.

Side note; I'm not saying this to absolve anybody of responsibility. In the end moids choose to be evil & women choose to love n worship them so long as other women to be shields are around. My point is about how maIe terrorism has shaped womens behaviour/being as a whole. Those who are separatists/blackpilled wouldn't reproduce so our ideologies & systems die when we die. Sure there's outliers of every batch so I dont think the concept entirely will die but it's maIe supremacy that has systems guaranteeing its ingrained continuation.

[hollybyrde]

No Vacancy

Chapter 7: Extended Stay

WC: 4991 | R: Explicit | CH: 7/12 | AO3 | Now Complete!

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch4 Ch 5 Ch 6

*EDDIE*

For a long time after Steve fell asleep in his arms Eddie lay awake, gazing down at the other man’s face, not quite able to believe what had just happened. 

It felt like a dream, though he knew with absolute certainty that it wasn’t. Even his own admittedly wild imagination couldn’t possibly have come up with such tantalizing images on its own. He had been in awe, transfixed from the moment Steve told him to take his clothes off and traced the pattern of his tattoos, first with eyes and then the soft press of fingertips, with a reverence usually reserved for works of art.

Eddie had slept with his fair share of partners, knew what it was like to be wanted—desired, but no one before now had made him feel like that—like something precious and beautiful.  

It was all so overwhelming. He’d been completely unprepared for how life changing it would be to actually feel Steve writhing under him, to hear the debauched sounds that fell from his lips, to sink inside the deepest part of his baby for the first very time.

Not his baby though, not yet. 

That was part of why he couldn't sleep. Not only because he couldn’t stop replaying the night’s events in his mind, like the way Steve so desperately tried to fuck himself harder and faster on Eddie’s fingers, though that was definitely a contributing factor, but because he knew that come morning he would have to talk—and say all the right things.

He could not fuck this up.

Because Eddie was ruined now. He would never be the same after this, and all it had taken was one night.  

When it felt like sleep might finally come for him Eddie settled his head down, closed his eyes, and thought again how it would be far too easy to fall in love with Steve Harrington. But as the exhaustion of the day finally pulled him under, he couldn't shake the sinking feeling that he already had. 

Eddie woke in the same position he’d fallen asleep in, flat on his back, arms wrapped around Steve who was resting on his chest. There was a stiffness in the body he held, a signal warning him that Steve was already awake, confirmed when he looked down and found a pair of soft hazel eyes staring back at him nervously from under a thick curtain of lashes. 

“Hi,” Eddie said softly. His voice thick with sleep and all the other things that were rising back up to the surface now that he was fully conscious. 

“Hi,” Steve repeated, carefully neutral.

The air between them was already tense and strained. Eddie hated it, recognizing it was all his fault and praying he’d be able to fix it. He smoothed the hair back from Steve's face and kissed his forehead, trying and failing to think of where to begin. Somehow It was all a bit scarier in the light of day.

“Steve, I’m— “ was as far as he got before the words got stuck on his tongue. Eddie cleared his throat and tried again. 

“I-I’m gonna take a quick shower.” 

Which was definitely not at all what he’d intended to say, but he needed a minute. 

Just a minute. Just to gather his thoughts and shit, that was all. He slid gently out from under Steve, squeezing his arm in a way that he hoped was comforting before fleeing to the privacy of their shared bathroom. 

He actually did feel a little gross to be fair, having run around all day yesterday in clothes from the night before, and then working up a sweat the way he did…

Fuck.

Eddie washed himself quickly, standing under the hot spray for a long time after, feeling lost for words. For someone who hardly ever shut the fuck up, he wasn’t kidding when he told Steve he didn’t know how to talk. He could bullshit with the best of them all day, but conversations about feelings weren’t exactly something he had a lot of experience with growing up—or since.

The creak of the bathroom door opening pulled him from his thoughts. He knew he’d been in there too long. Steve probably thought he was hiding, or stalling, and Eddie waited for the other man to say something—to ask if he was okay or to yell and scream—but it never came. Instead Steve quietly peeled back the curtain just enough to step into the shower and join him. 

Neither spoke as Steve crowded up behind and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist.

Like the night before they let their bodies do all the talking. Hot lips to wet skin, Steve dropped a series of open mouthed kisses from Eddie’s shoulder to his neck, pressing into him from behind, making Eddie shiver and lean back into the touch as Steve’s cock began to fill out against his ass. 

Eddie’s heart pounded as his fantasy came to life, Steve’s broad hand sliding down to grip his cock, stroking in time his own heavy breaths. The filthy wet sound of it along with Eddie’s own moans echoed loudly in the small space. 

Somehow it was even hotter than he’d imagined, and It would've been easy to come like this, but suddenly he was desperate to see Steve’s face, to taste his mouth again, and he turned drawing Steve into a deep lingering kiss. 

Steve melted into it at first, grabbing onto Eddie’s shoulders and biting at his bottom lip, before his mouth slowly began to travel lower, kissing a trail down his body, licking the water from his skin as he sank down to the floor—and the sight of Steve there on his knees in the shower with Eddie’s cock down his throat was far better than any daydream. 

He wouldn’t last, Steve’s mouth felt far too good for that, but Eddie didn’t mind. He was too eager to return the favor to wait that long anyway.

It was… better—ish between them after the shower, a little easier to breathe. 

Nothing like a little more sex to break the ice, Eddie thought hysterically.

Even so, the pressure was rising for him to explain himself and he had no idea what the hell he was doing. Still dripping from the shower and wrapped only in their towels, Steve sat down on the edge of his bed, while Eddie paced the floor around him. 

It all had to start with an apology, that much was obvious, but every time he looked at Steve and tried to form the words Eddie was gripped this all consuming urge to just rip the towel from his body and see how long he could hold his breath as he choked himself on— 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and took a few deep steadying breaths. 

“Sorry, this was a mistake. Can you maybe-”

A small wounded noise came from Steve’s side of the room, and Eddie immediately cursed himself and his poor choice of words. 

“Shit–fuck. No, sweetheart. I’m sorry! Oh my god I’m so bad at this,” Eddie rambled, holding his hands up in front of him. “I mean, I can’t think straight with you sitting there in only a towel. Can we just–” 

He trailed off with a sigh, finally cracking an eye open to find Steve looking both relieved and a little amused.

“You want me to put some clothes on?” Steve asked, fighting off a smirk

“Please.”

When they were both dressed and Eddie could think with his actual brain, he sat down next to Steve, held one of his hands, and hoped for the best.

“I’m sorry for the way that I acted—have been acting. It wasn’t fair to you. Not when I took off, or when I walked away from you down by the beach, and definitely not when I brought other guys home to try and distract myself from the fact that you were consuming my every fucking thought. You deserved better.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, letting Eddie's words sink in as he chewed on his thumbnail. 

“Why did you do all that, and what—what changed?”

“Apart from thinking you were straight?”

Steve nodded. 

Eddie blew out a long breath, looking down at their tangled fingers. “Fear, mostly. I don’t do this, Steve. I don’t date—if that’s even what you’re looking for out of all this.” 

Steve nodded again, squeezing Eddie’s hand encouragingly. 

“I don't trust anyone. I don’t… let people in, Wayne and Chrissy being the exceptions I guess, and I've never wanted to change that before. But now—I think—with you, I…” Eddie paused, shaking his head.

Don’t be wishy-washy about it, Munson. 

“No, I know that I want to try. I was so wrong about you before. If anyone is an asshole here, it’s me. I’ve liked getting to know the real you, and I want to keep doing that and maybe show you more of me too. That’s why I came back, to give it a chance. To see if you would give me a chance even though I don’t deserve it, and I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m sure I’ll fuck it all up somehow, but I-”

Steve cut him off with a kiss, murmuring a single word against his lips. 

“Yes.”

Eddie pulled back, looking from one of Steve’s eyes to the other. “Yes?”

“Yes, I'm saying yes to giving you a chance.”

“Well thank fuck for that,” Eddie exhaled, his mouth spreading into a wide grin before leaning back in for another kiss.

“Are you sure you have to work tonight?” Steve asked, watching from the bed as Eddie stood in front of the dresser, tying his hair up into a haphazard bun and slipping his rings on. 

It was one of the many things they hadn’t addressed yet, the fact that they were still on opposite schedules and how that would play into things now that they were together. Eddie certainly wasn’t going to bring it up, he was following Steve’s lead on everything since he had experience with relationships. 

Boyfriends.

It seemed like such a childish word to describe this intense thing blooming between them, but maybe that was just because Eddie’d never had one before. 

He glanced back at Steve through the mirror and admired his own handiwork, spotting the bruises that had taken form on either side of the other man’s throat. They were probably a little too old to walk around sporting visible hickeys like that, but something about lounging around making out all afternoon had made them both feel a bit like teenagers again—and judging by the sounds Steve had been making as Eddie sucked the delicate skin of his neck, he didn’t mind.

“Why, you gonna miss me or something?” Eddie teased, sauntering back over to the bed.

“Yeah,” Steve said, and it sounded like the truth. He said it like it cost him nothing to admit, and Eddie wondered if he could ever be brave like that. 

“As much as I might want to, I can’t call out again. I already bailed on a shift yesterday. Now that I'm staying I don't really want to lose this job.”

In the few moments between bouts of trying to devour each other that they did talk, Eddie had done his best to open up. Confessing what he suspected was the real reason why he moved around so much since leaving their hometown behind. Namely that anytime a place got too familiar or someone got too close, he would cut and run.

“Were you really going to leave?” Steve asked.

Eddie’s gaze dropped to the floor. He’d come damn close. “I felt like I had to. I was losing my mind, ready to drive eight hours straight to get to my Uncle’s place and lay low for a while.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.” Eddie agreed, leaning down to press a kiss to Steve's mouth. He was becoming obsessed with the taste of him, and only for the sake of getting to work on time did he pull back, keeping it from turning into more “Any plans tonight?”

“Oh!” Steve’s eyes lit up as he practically shouted. “I can’t believe I haven't told you! You know how Robin and Chrissy are not-so-secretly in love with each other?”

“Yes, obviously.”

“I think I finally convinced Robin to ask her out on a real date. I’m supposed to watch the front desk for a few hours while they go out to dinner tonight.”

Eddie grinned, his eyes going wide. “Holy shit!” 

It was about damn time.

He couldn’t believe it was finally happening, although, the happy news made him feel even worse about the way he’d been avoiding his best friend for much of his stay so far. He’d make it up to her somehow, and if anyone could understand what he’d been going through, it was her. If they were both about to embark on new relationships they would need each other now more than ever. 

“Oh, I see how it is,” Eddie said, narrowing his eyes playfully. “You wanted me to stick around so you don’t get bored down there by yourself.”

“Maybe,” Steve shrugged, “but I still meant what I said about missing you.”

“It's nice of you to cover for them.”

“I don’t mind. They deserve a little time off, date or no date.”

“You really are a sweetheart, you know that?”

“Shut up.” 

Steve rolled his eyes but his deep blush betrayed the way Eddie’s words affected him. It was adorable that after everything they’d done in the past twenty four hours a simple compliment could cause heat to rise in his cheeks. 

 “Actually, I need to get down there soon so she can show me what I have to do. Do you think…” Steve trailed off absently, picking at a loose thread on the comforter below him. “Nevermind.”

“No.” Eddie didn’t like that one bit, didn’t want Steve to be afraid to speak his mind. “Please, what were you going to say?”

“Can I tell them about us—Robin, and Chrissy?”

Eddie fought not to squirm, It felt like the first big test. A part of him wanted to keep things just between the two of them, at least for a while, until he trusted himself more not to mess up, but he also desperately wanted Chrissy to know and he was sure Steve would die if he couldn’t tell Robin.  

And given Eddie’s recent discoveries, he was pretty sure he knew why Robin had been so pissed all the time. Maybe now she’d stop giving him the evil eye. 

“Yeah. Of course you can tell them.”

*ROBIN*

Robin was trying to stay busy, puttering around the motel lobby straightening things up and definitely not freaking out about the night ahead, or worrying about how she was going to tell Steve that she hadn’t exactly gone through with their plan. 

Her and Chrissy were still going out to dinner and all, but Robin may have, possibly, on purpose, neglected to actually call it a date. 

She was also still fuming about Eddie and whatever he’d done to make her best friend look so sad and dejected last night. The whole thing was getting ridiculous honestly. If that little son of a bitch hadn’t run away because he was jealous that Steve had a date with someone else—she’d eat something gross. 

The fucking nerve he had to pull this shit after Steve had been so clearly pining after him, after he’d endured several of Eddie’s own hookups without complaint—and just when Steve was trying to get over him.

 She wasn’t sure what kind of game Eddie was playing here but she didn’t think she could let it go this time, no matter what Steve or Chrissy said. 

God—this had all been such a colossally bad idea. Lying to both of them, forcing them to room together. Robin felt terrible for her part in it, and the pain it'd caused her best friend. If only she’d just told Steve the truth when it all started going south, or better yet not gone through with this stupid scheme from the beginning, it would have saved him so much hurt feelings. 

The bell above the door dinged, interrupting Robin from her spiraling thoughts and she looked up to see Steve entering the lobby. 

He grinned when he saw her and it went all the way up to his eyes. It was a complete one-eighty from last night—he radiated happiness in a way she hadn’t seen in literal years. He was practically fucking glowing.

What could have possibly happened to change things so much in the few hours since she saw him last? 

Then she spotted it, a hickey—several hickies just barely peeking out from the neck of his favorite baby blue polo shirt.

Robin crossed the room in a rush, eyes narrowing as she yanked his collar down for a closer look. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

He yanked himself out of her grip, readjusting his shirt. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

If possible his smile got even wider with the admission.

“Gross,” she groaned.

Steve scoffed. “Just cause you don’t like men.”

Robin rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure she already knew the answer, even if she had no idea how this new development had come to pass, but she had to ask anyway. 

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, Eddie,” Steve replied, with the nerve to sound all wistful like a fisherman’s wife waiting for her husband to return from sea. 

“Do I even want to know?”

As much as she wanted to know how he and Eddie had gotten from point A to point B, she could happily live the rest of her life without the more sordid details—assuming there were sordid details. 

Steve took a deep breath as if preparing to launch into a long explanation, then appeared to decide better of it. “No, probably not.”

Right.

She hated to be the one to rain on his parade when he looked so bright, but it was unfortunately part of her job according to the best friend code. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Steve looked away, smile slipping for the first time. 

“I can’t be sure about anything, Robs, but I have to give this a shot.” He sighed, shaking his head before meeting her eyes again. “I mean, c’mon. You said it yourself, how long have I been into the guy?”

Robin snorted. She couldn’t help herself. “So we’re just freely admitting that now?”

Steve glared, dragging his feet over to one of the cushioned wicker benches that sat along the sides of the lobby and plopped down.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Listen, I like Eddie—most of the time—and if you’re happy, then I'm happy for you. He’s fun to be around, and it’s sweet the way he’s always been there for Chrissy. I know deep down he’s a good guy–”

“Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?”

Robin sank into the seat next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I hate the way he’s treated you.”

“Not exactly a fan of it myself,” Steve grumbled, “but he–he owned up to it, and apologized.”

“I’m just worried. Clearly he’s got some… issues, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Steve leaned in, bumping their shoulders together. “I don’t really want to see me get hurt either, but I'm willing to take that risk. I think he might be worth it.”

Oh no. Steve had that twinkle in his eyes—she knew that tone. 

“Shit, you are in so deep already aren't you?”

If the way he would no longer meet her eye was any indication, she was dead on.

Steve cleared his throat loudly, ignoring the question. “Don’t you have a date to get to?”

Robin bared her teeth in a grimace. “About that—“

“You didn’t ask her?”

“No, I did! Sort of. We’re still going out, but only as friends.”

“Wait, did she say she didn’t want it to be a date? Or did you chicken out at the last minute and not call it a date.”

“Might as well call me Henrietta—I think you already know the answer to that question.”

“Robin, you have to tell her!”

Any chance of defending herself was lost as the door chimed again and Chrissy came walking through it, looking absolutely gorgeous in a bright yellow sundress, white strappy sandals, and her hair tied up in a high bouncy ponytail. 

And fuck was Robin was a sucker for a bouncy ponytail.

Chrissy always looked stunning, whether she was dressed up with a full face of makeup, or flushed and sweaty, fresh from the gym, but sometimes, like right now, her beauty stole all the air from Robin’s lungs.

She stood there gawking for a moment before Steve elbowed her, then quickly snapped her mouth shut and tried to remember how to be a functioning member of the human race. Everything was fine, she was cool, totally not about to spontaneously combust at all.

“Hey guys!” Chrissy greeted them both, but her piercing blue eyes were trained on Robin. “Are you ready to go or do we still need to give Steve the lay of the land?”

“We were… just getting to that. Do you want to take him to your office and show him the books and the phone?” 

Chrissy nodded, pulling Steve up by his wrist and pulling him along behind her around the back of the counter, and threw Robin a wink over her shoulder when he wasn’t looking.

This was another one of the many things Robin had been stressing about for tonight. Even if it were to somehow miraculously work out between Steve and Eddie, she really didn’t want him to find out she’d set him up. It was Chrissy’s idea to fill the books with fake names to help cover for the fact that the motel was barely half full tonight. She didn’t know how closely Steve might look at things, and they could get away with having a few rooms open, most guests wouldn’t have been staying the whole summer like the boys were anyway, but too many obvious vacancies and the whole ruse would fall apart.

Chrissy assured her it would be fine, seemingly overjoyed at the chance to get out for a night. Steve wouldn’t even need to be in there that long, they only kept the office open till about nine or ten at the latest, anyway, leaving a sign on the door after closing with their own room’s phone number in case of emergencies. 

After only a few minutes Chrissy and Steve reappeared—and the asshole proceeded to walk them to the door like an overprotective father. Robin glared, daring him to say something embarrassing. He didn’t, thankfully, but he did catch her eye through the window as she followed Chrissy down the street and mouthed the words, “Be brave.” 

It was sweet. 

She smiled and flipped him off.

“So, where are we headed, Tide’s?” Chrissy linked their arms together as they headed towards the middle of town.

Robin's skin broke out in goosebumps at the touch. “That was the plan. Not sure if it’s a good idea anymore, considering.”

Chrissy squealed, feet dancing along the pavement excitedly. “I know, isn’t it great! Steve told me when I was showing him how to use the phone. I can’t believe we pulled it off.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Robin agreed halfheartedly. 

What else could she say?

“He said Eddie was working tonight too! Can we go there, Robin? Please? I’m dying to see his face.” 

Chrissy made a big show out of batting her eyes, a little trick she’d picked up from Eddie that seemed destined to send Robin into cardiac arrest—as if Robin wasn’t already powerless to deny her anything. 

It was just as well. At least now she could get her shovel talk out of the way nice and early. 

“Sure, whatever you want.”

As soon as they walked in the door Robin eyes landed on Eddie, standing behind the bar. He grinned when he spotted Chrissy, giving her a little wave, but looked quickly away when he saw Robin, busying himself with wiping down the already spotless surface in front of him. 

Without thinking she began to move in his direction, chomping at the bit to say her piece, but was stopped by a gentle grip at her elbow and Chrissy’s soft voice in her ear. 

“I know you probably want to march over there and threaten him with bodily harm if he hurts Steve again in any way, but do you think you could hold off for a little while so we can enjoy our night out together?”

Robin's stomach flipped and suddenly her legs felt like jello. 

“Yeah—um, yes. That’s… of course, sorry.”

Smooth.

The night was going great. 

They were two drinks in when Robin finally started to relax. She wasn’t thinking about Steve, or the motel, or anything besides enjoying the company of the girl sitting across from her. They hadn’t had fun like this in months. She really had to hand it to Steve, he was absolutely right. As much time as they spent together at work and at home, it was different like this, being out together with the sole purpose of enjoying themselves, people watching at the bar like they used to do all the time back in college. 

With a healthy buzz going they ordered some food and Robin excused herself to the bathroom, touching up her lipstick and maybe giving herself an embarrassing pep talk in the mirror before stepping out. She paused on her way back to their table to duck behind a half-wall, realizing that Eddie had taken up a seat next to Chrissy in her absence.

They were sitting close, heads bent together, talking quietly as Chrissy held his hand. Robin nearly looked away, feeling like she was intruding on a very private moment—even if they were in the middle of a busy bar on a Saturday night. It’s just… she’d never seen Eddie like that before, his face devoid of its usual cocky overconfident mask. He looked so… vulnerable, scared even. 

It was almost enough to make her feel bad about all the ways in which she’d imagined maiming him. 

Robin continued to watch as Chrissy soothed him with words, and hugs, and a kiss on the cheek, and saw the moment Eddie’s shoulders relaxed. Soon they were laughing and giddy and Eddie was clearly gushing about something—Steve she hoped—so it seemed like it was safe to resume her walk back to the table.

Eddie noticed her first before Chrissy did, and quickly rose from his chair, eyes widening a smidge like she made him nervous. 

As he should be.

But, Robin was determined to be good and not ruin the evening, so she smiled and nodded and he did the same before retreating back behind the safety of the bar. 

“What was that all about?” Robin asked casually, as though she hadn’t been creeping on them for the last five minutes, and wondered if Chrissy had gotten more details out of Eddie about the boys’—coming together, so to speak.

Chrissy stared down at the cocktail in her hand, something unreadable crossing her face as she stirred the ice around. 

“Oh, y’know,” She said eventually, huffing a laugh before proceeding to upend her glass abruptly and down the entire drink in one go.

Which was hotter than it had any right to be, honestly, but Robin felt compelled to ask, “Is everything alright?” 

After a long beat of silence in which a hundred different worst case scenarios ran through Robin's head, Chrissy finally looked up again, studying her face with pursed lips. 

“I'm going to ask you something and I need you to be completely honest with me.”

That didn’t sound good.

“...Okay?” 

“Was this supposed to be a date?”

Oh god. 

Robin’s heart pounded loudly in her ears completely drowning out the sound of the crowd around them. She blinked, fighting hard just to keep breathing.

“W-w-what makes you ask that?”

Chrissy shrugged.

Bullshit. 

Eddie had to have said something to her, it was the only explanation. Steve must have told him about the plan.

Robin swallowed hard. There was no use trying to deny it. The cat was out of the bag now and Chrissy was still sitting there, so…

“And, if it was?” Robin asked, softly.

Chrissy slid out of her chair and for a second Robin thought it was all over, that she’d ruined everything, but then Chrissy was coming around the table, sitting down next to her and taking her hand under the table, lacing their fingers together.

“Then I would say, that I've had a crush on you since we moved into our first dorm together and ask why the hell you haven't kissed me yet.”

The rush of relief that came over Robin was second only to the joy she felt as she let Chrissy’s words sink in, and her mouth spread into a smile so wide it made her face hurt. “Well, there's still time. It’s not the end of the date yet right?” 

Ten minutes later, with takeout bags in hand after flagging the server down to ask for their order to go, they were headed for the door, ready to continue their date in a more private setting when Eddie caught Robin’s eye, tossing her a wink and a smirk from across the room.  

She rolled her eyes, smiling fondly despite herself. She might even thank him for this someday. One thing she knew for sure—that was the last time she was thinking about either of those damn boys for the rest of the night. 

She had something much more pleasurable in mind to focus on instead. 

Chapter 8

Thanks forever to @penny00dreadful for being the best friend, cheerleader, and beta in the whole fucking world 💜

Taglist: @manda-panda-monium @hellion-child @dreamwatch @brbsoulnomming @epiclazershark @estrellami-1 @lokfae @raisedbylibrarians @impala314 @meganwinchester @kacatshi @warlordess @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @garden-of-gay @meela86 @gregre369 @finntheehumaneater

[starwarsmum]

Day 19 is Asking Advice! First follow up to day 4

@maribat-calendar-events

When Damian returned from the hospital and met with Jon, he was almost bowled over with questions and curiosity. He gave him a very sanitised version of events, leaving out his time as a superhero as he knew he wouldn't live it down. But he did tell him all about the girl with the concussion, who's friends didn't seem to care enough about her even after she fell into a river.

“I intend to do my due diligence and check on her within the next day or so,” he added as an afterthought. But he should have kept it as an inside thought, because Jon immediately latched onto it.

“I thought you said she was being looked after by her parents?” The super asked, eyebrows raised. At Damian's noncommittal shrug, his eyes narrowed. “Dames, that's not going to fly with me right now. Why, exactly, are you planning to invade this girl's home?”

“Tt, if you must know, her parents invited me to their bakery,” Damian huffed, averting his gaze as a light blush traveled up his neck. Jon stared at him in silence but Damian refused to elaborate further. “We are due to visit the Louvre this afternoon, are we not?”

No matter how much Jon badgered him after that, Damian refused to discuss Marinette. And it wasn't until three days after his initial meeting with her that he was able to get away from his class for long enough that he could visit the bakery.

Stepping into the busy space, he glanced around until his eyes locked onto Marinette. She was laughing at something her mother was saying, eyes bright as she sat behind the counter, and Damian felt a buzz start up in his ears. 

He had thought she was beautiful when she was soaking wet and concussed, but confronted with her looking happy and healthy? His heart hammered in his chest as he watched her. His thoughts raced as he debated whether he should actually approach her. (Un)Fortunately, the decision was taken out of his hands.

“Ah, our young hero is here!” Marinette's father's loud voice boomed across the bakery, and Damian flushed as everyone in the bakery turned to look at him. He turned even redder when Marinette turned her head in his direction even as a smile broke out across her face. “Come in, please, make yourself comfortable!”

“Papa, I think he would probably like to get out of the way,” Marinette said, her smile turning nervous. “Would you like to come upstairs? It's busy during the lunch rush and we can talk a little more freely up there.”

“She's right, Tom, let the kids head upstairs out of the way. She's been bored since her friends haven't visited yet, so she might as well go and relax. Take whatever you want for lunch though,” her mother said, smiling kindly at the pair.

“Thank you, Maman!”

After selecting pastries and promising to let them know if she needed anything Marinette led Damian upstairs. They stopped in the kitchen to get drinks - a tea for Damian and a coffee for Marinette - before heading up into the attic of the apartment. 

His first thought as they stepped into the room was she really likes pink. His second was less of a thought and more of an exclamation as over a dozen tiny gods rushed out to say hello to them both. Marinette called for order and the Kwamis subsided, all darting in different directions.

“Sorry about them. And about my parents, they can get a little…excited, when a boy comes over,” Marinette said, grimacing even as she blushed. “So, um, I assume you're here to talk about the whole Ladybug thing?”

“It was certainly a contributing factor to my accepting the invitation your parents extended, yes,” he said. “I did wish to make sure your head injury was improving as well.”

“Oh, yes, I'm feeling much better, thank you! Tikki told me you jumped into the river after me, so thank you for that as well. Um, and thank you for getting Alya to call my parents, or talk to the nurses or whatever it is you got her to do. And for stepping in when-”

“Yes, you are welcome,” he interrupted, sure that he was a matching shade of red to her own face. “You are truly better? Concussions can last longer than you would think and I would hate for you to come to harm when you have such an important role in protecting Paris.”

“Having the Ladybug Miraculous speeds up my recovery time from injuries,” she admitted, smiling at Tikki as she cuddled up to her. “And the doctors said you did exactly the right thing in getting me seen, so it's really because of you I'm recovering so well.”

An embarrassed silence stretched in front of them until Damian cleared his throat and gestured for them both to sit. Once they were comfortable, he decided it was time to get to the bottom of this whole Hawkmoth mess.

“How long have you been fighting against Hawkmoth? And do you have a mentor?”

“I mean, I had Master Fu for a while but…I'm kind of running things by myself now? Since he erased his memories and made me the guardian, I mean. Not that he was super involved before that point,” Marinette explained thoughtfully. “There's also maybe a whole order out there? But they don't really approve of how I'm doing things, so there's that.”

“So you have been fighting an emotional terrorist with only the support of your partner? I presume he at least knows and assists in your duties as guardian.”

“I mean. He shows up for battles? But it's kind of hard to support each other without revealing our identities which would not end well.”

“But you have someone to talk to about all of this, correct?” Damian felt like he was stuck in a nightmare. Not only was Marinette saying that her crime fighting partner had no idea who she was, but she was tackling the burden of being in charge of the duo as well.

“Well, given I'm talking to you right now, I guess technically yes? But you're the only person who knows that I'm Ladybug other than Tikki,” Marinette admitted. Damian rubbed his temples in frustration, actively working not to say something offensive.

“Marinette, this is not sustainable, you must know that,” he said at last, looking her in the eye and almost pleading with her. She flushed and fiddled with her phone charm, looking away from him. “Alright, given you have no-one else to rely on, you will have to make do with me. And I am going to tell you now that I am only in Paris for another week, so we will either need to end the threat before I leave or I will have to return.”

“How are you so calm about all of this?” Marinette asked, awe written across her features. 

“Tt, I live in Gotham and we have the world's greatest detective as our resident vigilante,” he sniffed in return, picking and choosing what he could say to assure her he could help without giving away secrets he wasn't supposed to. “Attacks are fairly common in our city and we have all become accustomed to certain things in regards to dealing with a villain.”

“I wish we had help, but I can't risk the Justice League coming in and getting akumatised,” Marinette said mournfully. “Otherwise I would have called for help ages ago. But I just can't see myself taking on a full grown trained adult and coming away unscathed.”

“Well, you have my assistance now. It is too late to, as they say, unring that particular bell and I have no intention of leaving you to fend for yourself. I am still going to be spending time with my class as part of our trip, but we have been given a fair amount of latitude in regards to our free time. Give me your phone and I shall input my number for you to contact me on.”

She handed her phone over, eyes wide as he did exactly as he said. She accepted it back after he was finished, staring at the contact information. She mouthed his name and he felt a flush starting to spread up his neck again. She jumped when he cleared his throat and blushed as well.

“Sorry, I didn't catch your name last time so my parents and I have just been calling you ‘hero’. But I like your name a lot better,” she offered, smiling prettily. She looked away from him to send him a message so that he had her number as well.

They chatted for a while longer, Marinette pulling out her conspiracy boards and explaining who they had already ruled out as being Hawkmoth as well as an explanation as to why. He frowned and made a mental note to double check each name on the list because, even though she had sound reasoning, it was not airtight.

When he left the bakery several hours later he was laden down with boxes of pastries and a sense of purpose. He also had a flutter in his stomach when Marinette kissed his cheek in farewell but he was trying to put that out of his mind. 

“So how was she doing?” Jon asked when Damian reached him. “Oh my god, are those pastries? Please tell me you're going to share with me.”

“She is doing well,” Damian replied, offering the box of pastries to his friend. He was still thinking about how he had reacted to Marinette and the way his pulse still spiked when he thought about her complimenting his name. 

“Oh yeah? Guess that means you won't be seeing her again, huh,” Jon said, pulling a croissant out of the box. “Ooooh, nice! Was this baked today?”

“Well, we have exchanged contact information,” Damian admitted, refusing to look at Jon even as the super almost dropped his pastry in surprise. “I find her company to be…enjoyable.”

“Huh, she must be something special to make you give her such a big compliment,” Jon said innocently, taking a big bite of the croissant. “So, what, you just decided her friends suck and you're gonna be a better one?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I would appreciate your advice, however,” he added in a strained voice. The magnitude of what he was feeling was starting to set in, and he was worried that if he approached this with his usual attitude he was going to scare the girl away. “If I were interested in a less platonic relationship with someone, how should I go about making it clear?”

“Well, you're gonna need to give me a minute, because that is not what I was expecting you to say. Holy moly, I have to meet this girl.”

_ _ _

Damian stood nervously outside the bakery again. Jon had told him to be himself but to be forthright with Marinette. So rather than wait to see if she was available the next time he had free time, he shoved the box of pastries into Jon's hands and turned right back around.

But luck was not on his side, because when he did finally build up the courage to step inside, Marinette's mother - Sabine, she insisted he call her - informed him that Marinette's friends had taken her out for ice cream. Thanking Sabine, he took her directions to this André and walked quickly in the direction of the Pont des Arts bridge.

He spotted the same large group as previously and bit back a growl when he saw the same brunette who had knocked Marinette into the river last time hovering closely to her. It seemed as though they had yet to order their ice cream and they were all pairing up; an issue was arising in who a blond boy should be paired with as there was an uneven number.

“Marinette, may I speak with you?” She turned at the sound of her name and the look on her face brightened from the annoyed scowl she was directing at the brunette. 

“Damian! Um, we were just going to get some ice cream, did you want to get some with me? Then we could sit down and talk if you want,” she said, blushing slightly.

“Of course,” he replied, offering his elbow to her. He tried not to grin too widely when she took hold of it, but permitted himself to smirk at the blond who was staring at him. “I have not heard much about this André, but your parents assured me that I would enjoy it.”

By the time they had reached the ice cream cart, Damian had gathered that they all believed it to have special properties. As in, eat ice cream with your loved one and be together forever properties. When he raised an eyebrow at Marinette, she was quick to assure him that he also did friend ice cream, and that he shouldn't feel pressured to get the sweetheart ice cream if he didn't want to.

“I mean, Alya's convinced that he's a meta because he can supposedly tell who your soulmate is by reading your heart,” she said in a light tone, though her cheeks reddened again.

“Am I to understand that you have already seen your sweetheart colours?” He asked, leaning down to murmur it in her ear. They were at the end of the queue of teenagers and it felt less like a group outing given they were only talking to each other. She nodded but didn't elaborate and he felt the curiosity burning in his chest. “Should I make a guess as to what my own will be?”

Before she could form a coherent reply they found themselves in front of André. He squinted at them both and Damian ordered a sweetheart cone before Marinette could stop him. At that point the ice cream man glanced at the blond who was gazing lovingly at a cone made with blue and red.

“Hmmmm, for you two, a scoop of cherry and a scoop of chocolate, for the tart sweetness in her and the darkness hidden in him,” he said at last, handing it over with a flourish. “A classic pair that stands strong together. Enjoy!”

The class was staring at them but Damian was secretly elated - their ice cream flavours worked well together, a classic the man had said. Holding onto the cone and her hand, he led her to a space separate to her friends and sat close to her.

“I cannot say I disagree with his observation,” he said at last, offering the first spoon of ice cream to Marinette. He had taken the spoon out of her side and held it out to her at mouth level. She blushed but leaned forward to take the bite.

“I do like both cherry and chocolate,” she said shyly, keeping her position leaning towards him. His mouth was dry and he couldn't taste his own spoonful of ice cream but he refused to move away from her. 

“I am glad to be getting ice cream with you,” he said gently, stomach erupting in butterflies when she smiled at him from only inches away. He swallowed and decided to take the plunge. “I know you do not know me very well yet, but I would like to change that. Would you be against going out with me during my stay in Paris?”

“I'd love to,” she said, dropping her head onto his shoulder. Damian grinned as she ate another spoon of ice cream and rested his cheek on the top of her head.

Part 3

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Apologies—I meant to post this to another of my blogs. But since a few folks have liked it, I guess I'll leave it.

NYCB Attracting Younger Fans

The AP put out this story, which has run in many papers.

I've never understood why so many organizations prize young patrons over old. The old ones have more money, after all. But I suppose they're thinking of their future: today's young people are tomorrow's "sea of gray." 🙄

It's also news to me that Whelan is in charge of programming. I'm sure that Stafford has (a big) say in what goes on.

At 75, NYC Ballet is getting older. Its audience is skewing younger, and that’s the plan

By JOCELYN NOVECK Updated 12:58 AM EDT, May 24, 2024

NEW YORK (AP) — Alice McDermott settled into her seat at New York City Ballet on a recent Friday night, excited to see her first-ever ballet performance. The 31-year-old Manhattanite, who works in recruiting, was on a fun girls’ night out with three friends she’d met through work, starting with dinner.

“They told me I’d love the ballet,” says McDermott, who was also excited to realize she was already familiar with one of the evening’s performers, Tiler Peck, via the dancer’s popular Instagram feed. “They said you can put on a nice dress and just immerse yourself in another world, whilst marveling at what the human body can achieve.”

Seems they were right: At the end of the evening, McDermott, a new fan, went home and watched a ballet documentary.

Perhaps you could call it “Ballet and the City”? Whatever the term for McDermott’s ballet evening with pals, the scenario would surely be music to the ears of the company — which has been celebrating its 75th birthday with fanfare this year — and especially its artistic leaders of the past five years, Jonathan Stafford and Wendy Whelan.

The two, both former dancers at the storied troupe founded by George Balanchine, have made it a key goal to bring in a younger audience to ensure the company’s long-term health — and more broadly, to guard the vitality of a centuries-old art form.

It seems to be working. Though some initiatives have been in place for longer, the last five years have seen a marked shift, according to numbers provided to the Associated Press: In 2023, 53% of ticket buyers were under age 50, and people in their 30s made up the largest age segment by decade. Five years earlier, in 2018, 41% of ticket buyers were under 50, and people in their 60s made up the largest age segment.

Now, longtime ballet followers note that on a bustling Friday evening you can look down from the first ring of the David H. Koch Theater at Lincoln Center and not simply see, well, a sea of gray.

`A GENERATION OF YOUNG PROFESSIONALS’ A major factor in attracting younger people, especially those under 30, has been affordable pricing. There are also evenings targeting young professionals, including post-show receptions. And there have been collaborations with visual or musical artists with youthful followings — like the musician Solange, who in 2022 was commissioned to score a ballet by 23-year old choreographer Gianna Reisen.

The Solange collaboration was a significant moment, Whelan and Stafford said in a recent interview, surveying the past five years as the thumping of leaping dancers’ feet echoed through the ceiling above Stafford’s office.

“We sold out every show,” Whelan noted. “It was a little nugget, but it was memorable.”

Perhaps even more important was the fact, says Stafford, that about 70% of those ticket buyers were new to the company — contributing to “a generation of young professionals in the city that are at our theater every night now.”

Wendy Whelan and Jonathan Stafford, Feb. 29, 2024. Photo: Bebeto Matthews via the AP

Katherine Brown, the ballet’s executive director, said the company had taken a look at the theater and vastly reduced the price of certain seats — and saw them fill up. She also noted the 30-for-30 program, where members under 30 can buy any seat in the house for $30. “That thing has just exploded,” Brown says, from some 1,800 members in the last full season before the pandemic-forced shutdown, to some 14,000 now.

One can’t discount the “pure economics” of an evening at the ballet, especially for young people, says Wendy Perron, longtime dance writer and former editor of Dance Magazine. “When I was in New York in the ’70s and ‘80s, I just couldn’t afford to go to the ballet,” she says.

GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED Also not to be discounted: the effect of social media in promoting dancers as people with personalities.

“We’ve got this crop of really exciting but also relatable, approachable dancers, and through social media, audiences can connect to them in a way they couldn’t back when we were dancing,” says Stafford, who retired as a dancer in 2014.

Consider Peck, one of the company’s most popular ballerinas (and a rising choreographer), whose Instagram feed had reached McDermott before she ever saw her dance. Peck supplies her half-million followers with short, punchy videos about everything from her 10 favorite dance roles to how she applies stage makeup. Her videos often feature her partner onstage and off, rising principal dancer Roman Mejia.

It’s all very different from a time when — like Odette in “Swan Lake” — ballerinas used to be mysterious and, above all, silent.

Social media — whether used by the company or via the dancers’ own feeds — can also answer questions. If you attended a performance of “The Nutcracker” a few seasons ago, you might have wondered why dancer Mira Nadon, as Sugarplum Fairy, suddenly disappeared from the stage at a key moment. The answer was on her Instagram later: her pointe shoe had slipped off.

“See, you can get all your answers from Instagram now,” quips Whelan, who herself has an active feed.

ESTABLISHING A PARTNERSHIP A few months ago, Whelan, a much-loved former NYCB principal who also retired in 2014, got a congratulatory text from Stafford in the morning — it had been exactly five years since the two had taken the helm after a turbulent period when #MeToo accusations caused scandal.

Historically, the company had been led by one man — Balanchine until 1983, then Peter Martins. This time, the board tried something new: a duet. Stafford was already interim head, and Whelan had applied for the job.

“They put us in a room and closed the door, and we were like – ‘Hi?’” Whelan says. “They were like, figure it out! And we did.” Stafford, the artistic director, serves as a bridge between the creative and business sides. Whelan, associate artistic director, focuses on the delicate task of programming.

Company insiders describe a mood different from the days when one outsized, all-powerful personality ruled from above. For one thing, the pair says they’ve instituted annual taking-stock conversations with each dancer.

Diversity — ballet is slowly changing but still overwhelmingly white — is also a priority, they say, and that includes diversifying “the pipeline,” meaning students at the affiliated School of American Ballet.

Recently, the company heralded its first two Black dancers to dance Dewdrop, the second most important female “Nutcracker” role: India Bradley and guest artist Alexandra Hutchinson of the Dance Theater of Harlem. Yet to come is a Black Sugarplum Fairy. The company says 26% of of its dancers identify as people of color, whereas 10 years ago that figure was 13%. Stafford and Whelan have commissioned 12 ballets by choreographers of color in the last six years, it says.

“We know where the gaps are, and we take it seriously,” Whelan says.

She and Stafford say they’re also paying more attention to wellness, be it physical training to avoid injury, healthy diets, or a more frank discussion of mental health.

As for the company’s financial health, it is strong, Brown says, four years after the pandemic cost tens of millions in losses The 2024 budget is roughly $102 million, compared to $88 million in 2019. Audience capacity has exceeded pre-pandemic levels.

As for new fan McDermott, she’s planning more visits, along with her friends.

“I think we have a new tradition between the four of us,” she says. “We’ll definitely be making it a bit of a thing.”

[paradife-loft]

random khisit characterization/personal history tidbits, because I've been Thinking About Them 🥺 and I feel like it

most of the time if you'd asked them whether they were angry about something, or whether they were an angry person in general, they would say no with 100% genuinely sincere belief that they were telling the truth. (they're not angry, they're just annoyed by something that's rightfully and inherently annoying. or somebody is being obviously fundamentally wrong about something and you can't just let people go around being that wrong and stupid. anyway, alexithymia's a hell of a drug.)

on a pretty fundamental emotional-regulation level, they associate "having and exercising autonomy" with "getting in trouble and being punished". .........as in, "pissing people off and making life harder for yourself is/ought to be standard background noise, otherwise things get stifling and twitchy and you're probably being a doormat".

(regarding the above... they get better about it, to an extent. eventually. their relationship with Rivka is a pretty big contributing factor as to why & how.)

they have a lot of conflicted feelings and uncertainty around the idea of their biological family, and about being sith in general. "I would've had this entire heritage and culture that I refuse to believe isn't worthwhile, but it's been taken from me by other people's decisions" vs "if biology doesn't dictate who you are then why should I have to care about being sith in the first place? it matters more to the people around me than it does to me personally" vs "theoretically there's people out there who know more about where I came from, who I could find and contact if I wanted" vs "my parents - let alone any more extended family - clearly didn't give enough of a shit about my being raised by the Jedi to actually prevent it happening," fight!

relatedly: I genuinely cannot remember if I've explained it on here before or not, but so. the deal with their surname. the Savrow family is a long Red Sith lineage with a bunch of different offshoots, and given the significance of social status, positional relationships, and naming in sith culture, familial sub-branches will often end up distinguishing themselves from others by adding elements or modifying parts of the family name to reference a significant "founding member" or famous ancestor/close relative. "Ffosavrow" is likewise a fairly old modification of this sort, referring to a (quite distant) ancestor who was the second child of their house - not the heir, but one who nonetheless cultivated a significant power base worth its own distinction. when Khisit's parents fled to the Republic for political asylum, the interaction between sith cultural-linguistic touchpoints and Republic bureaucratic record-keeping got their legal surname listed as just "Savrow". Khisit learns this history as a ~preteen-equivalent, from old holo records and from badgering their elder cousin about memories from before they came to the Republic & Jedi.

speaking of said cousin - Khisit and Tryse never really had an amazing relationship, but that was also pretty structurally hamstrung by the whole "no attachments" deal. through Khisit's childhood, they just straight-up didn't interact with one another very often (Tryse being kept quite busy with an accelerated training montage of crash-course-assimilation-into-Jedi-and-Republic-culture). Tryse I think still felt responsible for Khisit in a way, and wanted to be able to have some sort of mentorship relationship, but by the time that would've been logistically feasible, Khisit had become kind of a difficult child who did not respond well at all to the angle Tryse tried to get to know them with, and it just resulted in a lot of frustration and hissing on both sides. (also, not that anybody was remotely in a position to understand/identify this back at that point, but by the time Khisit had gotten the basic rundown on how they and Tryse were related, that knowledge flared up real quickly into resentment/envy/anger at Tryse for a) having memories of family and growing up in the Empire, b) completely turning her back on anything from that life, and c) both of the above while also being human on top of it. obv from Tryse's pov it's more complicated than that and she's got a boatload of her own trauma shit going on, but. yeah.)

one of their hobbies as a kid/teenager was absolutely just causing tons of IT chaos on purpose throughout the entire Jedi temple.

also as a teenager: figured out they were not particularly into pain during the process of getting six piercings done on their face in a single session. no regrets though!!! even though ow.

(....on the other hand, discovered several years later via the club a friend held a birthday celebration at, that they were particularly into other people's pain. they uhh. they feel a whole entire Way about that. and almost certainly aren't letting anyone know about it unless said person has max approval and just got a critical success on their persuasion check.)

they genuinely really love the outside environment of Balmorra; ironically enough it's probably the first place they ever resonate with as somewhere beautiful and restorative and peaceful. something about it lets them feel... insignificant, less trapped in their body, in a way that doesn't demand anything of them. they do really miss it sometimes after they leave, and I do think they probably come back somewhat regularly after all the big galaxy-shattering nonsense is dealt with.

[tumbloggingattheendofitall]

Alrighty

(admin stuff includes : today is July 31st, 2024. I've been having this theory in some form since early in 2023, like about the month after the Return Tour completed in Japan. And it's finally come time to write down my potential prescience. I also want the record to show that in an effort not to shove my potential theory into the fandom's circuit, I'm posting this privately for now. I will make this public either after WWWY2 has finished, if my theory becomes the collective one before then, or if my theory is disproven before the time in which I have theorized.)

All said, there's a prerequisite understanding going into this. You must be willing to buy into the idea that MCR5 is Real and it is Coming. If you have that prerequisite met, other helpful things to have include

Knowing some MCR lore, broadly

Being aware of the specific ways MCR has been opaque and cryptic in the history of the band. Good examples include the lead-up to the Return announcement

The sheer time scale at which they Plan these things

Can't hurt to also know about Gerard's old interviews in which they talked frequently about the ways the Smashing Pumpkins influenced the trajectory of the band, and the ways that this directly contributed to the tinhatting of the fandom in the Hiatus Period

All to say, I believe that I'm being backed up by the methods that MCR have often taken to breadcrumb about their plans in ways that are effective, but only if you have a certain level of colloquial understanding of their particular style of dropping breadcrumbs. Which, in my experience, is a long haul sort of thing - less 100-meter-dash, more cross-country-marathon. Like the aforementioned Smashing Pumpkins inspo being used as the foundation for why exactly MCR would definitely be reuniting in 2019 - the original interviews mostly happened between 2007-2009 iirc, and that's still easily a year ahead of when the breakup really happened.

So. My theory, which is dated in its current iteration to this moment (but I'll backdate my officially going hard into it back to Halloween 2023 because I think that's about the time I realized how much the breadcrumbs of it all impacted my opinion here) begins with, duh, MCR5 is happening. I believe it, I Know it, and I won't be discussing the decade and a half of knowledge I'm using to make the claim, you just have to accept it. It's happening. The when and where are the big question marks, much the same way that pretty much everything about What's Next With MCR are also huge question marks.

I think I know the answer is what I'm saying. All this big preamble exists just to say, I think I know when and where and all the rest of the answers. I think I've known since... Ok I guess it's actually November 17 2023.

Theory : I believe MCR was a driving force behind the addition of Day 2 of WWWY Festival. I believe that the box office draw of this band gave them plenty of social currency they could leverage into legitimately getting a bunch of festival organizers to add a second day. I think the only caveat any reasonable event coordinator might have would be that the first date would have to sell out first before a second day could be added. I also think MCR aren't stupid and collectively were Aware that their presence at the festival would absolutely bring those sales through the roof.

I think they've had this plan since at least the Australian/Japanese leg of the Return, in some form. I think they may have finessed and altered it, may have even intentionally delayed it due to Frank's side time with LS Dunes - and perhaps a mosaic of other factors I don't have access to or knowledge of. But I think the plan is as follows with regard to what Will Happen. MCR will take the stage on Day 1 of WWWY2 and they will play The Black Parade, start-to-finish. They Will Not play the stage show that they killed in Mexico, in fact I'm willing to bet they will undersell their own theatricality for Day 1. This is important and intentional. I am willing to bet they will fill the time with B-Sides if needed - maybe even mixing the B-Sides with the original release. That wouldn't surprise me. The point is, I believe they will at least play KAYF and All The Angels. I Don't think they'll play anything from other eras on Day 1. But I'd argue that if they do, it'll be as an encore, a 3-piece-set encore. Blood isn't part of the encore by the way in this version of the set. Either it's the final song of an encore that's just their most loved B Sides after the entirety of Black Parade, or, it's the last song before an encore of 3 songs - Vampires Will Never Hurt You or Skylines and Turnstiles as the first, Helena, You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us, or TYFTV as the second, and Kids for the third. I'm willing to concede I have strong preferences for specific picks, but I also don't think it matters what is done there - I think what matters is, it'll be a 3-song encore set that the band finds emblematic of each of the Non-Black-Parade eras. Who knows, it could be all Non-Album Tracks. An encore could even just not happen - very like them, in some way. The point is, my theory is, Day 1 of WWWY2 is about being a prelude to Day 2, and underselling themselves in that prelude.

I think at the end of Day 1's set, the official site will be updated - next 5 tour dates will appear, or some other announcement if they're feeling generous, something cryptic à la the Return teaser if they're not. Again, this is a prelude - all window dressing, actually. It's why I think they're going to undersell their theatrical bent for this performance.

I think it'll cause uproar, of course, because people will wanna know why they went so Under Expectation, underperforming, whatever. I think the girlies and gays will be rightly Irate at the Horrors for the performance on Day 1. I think it'll be exactly what they said it would be right down the line, and the MCRmy collectively will be Upset. But hopeful.

I think day 2 will be insane.

You see, I remember exactly where I was when Foundations dropped, and I think that's the level of warning they intend to give for anything that comes next. It's not that they didn't leave breadcrumbs for Foundations, it's that until it had actually blindsided the collective MCRmy, nobody had the answer for what those breadcrumbs added up to, just a lot of guesses.

Day 2: they will open the performance 'as usual' with The End and, likely, Dead!. Maybe they'll be really cheeky as it were and get through Welcome To The Black Parade, but I think they'll monopolize their time, so they'll start like they did the night before, but with more theatricality (either marginally or overtly). I also think that by either the end of Dead! or WTTBP, The Thing will have dropped online. My hope and strongest theory is, no warning, they will drop MCR5 in its entirety online and then proceed to perform it in its entirety with the remainder of their set.

(Alternatively, they will still perform the whole thing, but the online drop will be a complete list of tour dates, and/or album announcement.

Otherwise, I could see an Ultimate Greatest Hits Mashup as the set, with either, both, or all being dropped online, either over the course of their set or as one giant Drop at some strategic point during or immediately following their performance.)

What will be dropped, and when, is still a lot of variables based on which breadcrumbs I'm parsing and in what ways I'm analyzing them. My strongest feeling, though, is that Day 2 will neither be a repeat of Day 1, nor will it have anything to do with The Black Parade except in that they're using that as a ... window dressing and prelude to what's Actually Happening. And while I'm willing to concede there's multiple possibilities for what's Actually Happening, I think there's some breadcrumbs that strongly suggest, What's Actually Happening is an album release party that will correctly shatter expectations and cause a collective MCRmy meltdown.

Anyway I kinda look forward to being proven so stupidly wrong, but God can you even Imagine if I were right? Lol

[friendlessghoul]

So.. This was an Ask I received and accidentally deleted, but they were asking about why the titles were describing scenes, were there missing scenes and how could scenes be missing.

I just want to say I'm not exactly an expert in this but I can try and explain best to my knowledge.

(and oh my god this turned out very long)

There's various reasons why silent films have missing footage. One is just due to the film decaying; nitrate film was highly flammable and if not stored properly would get gunky and film would become ruined in parts. Sometimes they were able to save pieces of the film.

The early motion-picture industry primarily used film stock made of nitrocellulose, commonly called nitrate film. This film is flammable and produces its own oxygen supply as it burns. Nitrate fires burn rapidly and cannot be extinguished, as they are capable of burning even under water.[1] Nitrocellulose is also subject to thermal decomposition and hydrolysis, breaking down over time in the presence of high temperatures and moisture. This decaying film stock releases nitrogen oxides that themselves contribute to the decay and make the damaged film burn more easily. Under the right conditions, nitrate film can spontaneously combust. In part because of substantial variability in the manufacturing of early film, considerable uncertainty exists about the circumstances necessary for self-ignition.[1] Sustained temperatures of 100 °F (38 °C) or higher, large quantities of nitrate film, increased humidity, poor ventilation, and aged or decaying film have all been considered risk factors. Most such fires in film archives have taken place in heat waves during summers, in closed facilities with limited ventilation, compounding several of these variables. Especially in confined areas, such fires can result in explosions. (source)

For the life of me I cannot find this next part of information, but *someone* was helping Buster transfer his nitrate films to preserve them to better film (I think that's what it was) that he had and went to some business for help. The guy flipped at them bringing nitrate films inside, and the guy begged him to do it saying something along the lines of- you see that guy out there? That's Buster Keaton and we need to preserve these films. Feeding them through the machines was difficult and slow because it kept clogging up the machines (and I think broke one?). There was also censorship problems. I noticed was with the Arbuckle/Keaton films, Chicago was either really strict or their records were really well kept. (idk) The Rough House - The Chicago Board of Censors cut the scene showing the theft of beads from the film.

Oh Doctor! -The Chicago Board required a cut of the scene where a man is pulling a women's skirt up to her knees.

Coney Island - The Chicago Board of Censors required a cut of a scene with a girl raising her dress above her knee. The original ending was considered racist by the mid-1920s and was cut from the film. Out West - the Chicago Board of Censors required a cut of the scene of arrows in man's back and their removal, man burning back with gas flames, and the shooting of the bartender.

Good Night, Nurse! - (this ones my favorite) - the Chicago Board of Censors cut, in Reel 1, Arbuckle kicking woman, Arbuckle putting foot on woman's posterior, and Arbuckle pulling dress off woman and exposing her figure. (the woman that Roscoe puts his foot on is Buster)

In the instance of Coney Island, we do have copies of both endings. (they're also on the DVDs). Now we have most of these despite the censorships, but that isn't always the case with other films. Moonshine was very fragmented, there were two types, one that was crisp with missing pieces, and a more complete print that was blurry and looks more like a negative. (there's also a lot of title cards which seems unusual to me)

Daydreams is...a mess.. there's still missing pieces of that film. "A restoration effort in 1995 recovered most of the footage, substituting stills and titles to fill the viewer in on the missing scenes." (source)

During that time, they would often describe the entire film in a review (they apparently didn't care about spoilers), which gives us a better idea of what happened in the films. In this case, Daydreams has a missing scene where Buster is working in a hospital.

Hard luck was a lost film until 1987, but even then they didn't have the ending gag that Buster called the greatest laugh-getting scene of his career. It was later discovered in a Russian archive print, I believe they found that in the mid 90s, and it's distorted (as you can see). There's also other instances like with The Navigator. Often they would preview films to audiences in towns to gauge how the film would perform. If it fell flat (like Seven Chances had) they go back and edit or add scenes. With the Navigator there are mentions in reviews of a scene-

"Then I started fixing the leak, but a school of fish came by, all going in the same direction except one poor little fish who tried and tried to cross their track and couldn't. I, seeing its plight, picked up a starfish, put it on my chest, whistled, and held up my hand at the school of fish. They stopped, I motioned the little fish to cross, he swam by, then I turned and signaled the school to pass on. They all went by, and I returned to the leak." (A Filmmakers Life- James Curtis pg 259),

but in screening the film, the audience didn't react well to it, so they cut it (after several screenings, not understanding why it didn't work). But in trailers, they kept that scene because it worked better. And then there were the fires. MGM had a massive vault fire (1965), as did Fox (1937) (among many others)

The Cameraman was at one point considered a lost film, destroyed in the 1965 MGM vault fire. However, a complete print was discovered in Paris in 1968.[19] Another print, of much higher quality, although missing some footage, was discovered in 1991.[19] The two prints were combined into a version which now is available. (source)

Another case with The Cameraman was- MGM writing department used the film to train new writers as a "perfectly constructed comedy" for decades, even wearing out their print.

There's also stuff about copyright laws (not getting into that), Rohaur, who was trying to preserve Buster's films had to rewrite intertitles, add canned music and alter crucial edits made by buster and his original cutters. (A Filmmakers Life - Curtis pg 616)

SO in ending this..In the beginning of film they didn't know how important these movies would become and they were not exactly taken care of. There are still silent films being discovered in all parts of the world, fragmented, sometimes attached to other films, and in various conditions. There are restoration projects to restore all silent films, and I have seen people raise money to help aid in this. (IBKS accepts donations to help support their nonprofit organization, which includes artifact preservation.)

Uh yeah.. I'm sure this isn't everything, but I hope this helps...

[chloewatcheswrestling]

Wrestling Love Letters

Intrigue and Mastery: A Traditional Japanese Villain Emerges

Shinsuke Nakamura, the former three-time IWGP Heavyweight Champion, a man who's won the prestigious 2011 G1 Climax and the 2014 New Japan Cup, was also the founding member of the stable 'Chaos' (currently led by Kazuchika Okada), cemented his status as a true wrestling icon long ago. The King of Strong Style's journey through the world of professional wrestling has been nothing short of remarkable but, up until recently, he's been cruising along living the 'future hall of famer' life.

Shinsuke has always been able to capture the hearts of fans with his charismatic presence. Whether it's his infectious smile, his captivating entrance music that gets the crowd singing, or his unique in-ring style, Nakamura has always been a fan favourite. However, in recent times, it felt like something was missing. It seemed as though we hadn't seen a certain side of Shinsuke, and he was merely showing up to give us his best professional babyface performance without being a viable contender for a title or someone we eagerly anticipated seeing at the top of the card.

A contributing factor to this feeling was WWE's insistence on having Nakamura communicate primarily in English, limiting his ability to cut compelling promos. Despite this, he compensated adeptly with his eccentric and exaggerated facial expressions, which effectively conveyed his emotions when the scripts fell short. This issue isn't unique to Nakamura; it extends to other Japanese wrestlers, including Asuka and Iyo Sky, who also both occupy prominent positions on the roster and the women's title scene.

Then came the game-changing moment - Nakamura's heel turn on Monday Night Raw (August 7th, 2023) and subsequent promo the following week. The promo involved a clever twist: Nakamura initially speaking in English, pausing to contemplate his next words, only to dismiss the need for understanding from the crowd or his opponent and seamlessly transitioning to Japanese. It was as if the man brimming with charm had unearthed an entirely new reservoir of charisma.

For someone who has tried and failed to learn Japanese, witnessing Nakamura speak his native language with such animation was truly enchanting. It was as if he'd finally been allowed to show his true self and was running with that opportunity. His animated facial expressions, body language and impassioned delivery made it almost feel as though you comprehended his words, even if you couldn't speak a word of Japanese. This change demonstrated that the WWE audience don't always require spoon-fed storylines to grasp a narrative.

Shinsuke complimented his change in character with a slight tweak in his appearance, now wearing dark kimono-inspired outfits, evoking the classic Japanese villain archetype. This archetype typically pits the villain against a heroic protagonist, in this case, the baby face Seth Rollins. The hero-villain dynamic, central to many Japanese narratives like samurai epics and martial arts tales, usually unfolds with the villain displaying a complex relationship with the concept of honour and quite often they themselves were once a beloved hero. I initially questioned why it had taken so long for WWE to pull the trigger on this heel turn but soon realised that it may not have been as effective if acted on sooner.

Nakamura's decision to whisper a cryptic threat to Seth Rollins was a genius move to get the audience speculating what could have possibly been said (a wrestling storytelling technique reminiscent of Undertaker whispering to Bray Wyatt). And later revealing his knowledge of Seth's persistent back issues, ignited their feud brilliantly and played into the traditional Japanese villain traits of intelligence, cunning and manipulation. Following Payback 2023, the challenge was maintaining the momentum of this rivalry. Nakamura, adopting the quintessential villain role, goaded Seth to the point of Seth demanding a rematch, only for Nakamura to deny his request until he deemed the time is right. The calculated manipulation, marked by meticulous planning and tactics, exemplifies Nakamura's mastery of this character.

I'm confident I'm not alone in backing Shinsuke in this ongoing feud with Seth Rollins, I would love to see him have a heel run with the title, orchestrating the fate of the baby faces on the roster like a master puppeteer. While Rollins is a safe pair of hands, I'd like to see him drop down the card and confront the challenge of having to claw his way back up. This journey could infuse his character with a newfound intensity, potentially sowing the seed for a compelling character transformation. Nakamura has undoubtedly regained his cool factor, and it's high time for WWE to capitalise on this resurgence and explore fresh storytelling avenues.

With pins, submissions, and a whole lot of heart, Chloe xoxo

13.09.2023

[samwise9]

Hi, this is probably a very late response, not much of a question. I have stumbled upon your account and read through the whole "drifting away from Lucemond pairing" thing.

That's honestly very relatable. I used to like them a lot at the beginning, read through almost every fanfic, even yours too (they are great & you are one of the greatest Lucemond fanfic writers out there).

Honestly, it's kinda difficult for me to find out why it has become so hard to like the pairing (at least for me) because in the beginning, it was just so great, y'know, like magic. The Golden Era is probably in the beginning.

But you formulated so well, especially about the fandom discourse thing. I started falling off around the time one of the Lucemond fanfic I followed ended.

Afterwards, it's just constantly trying to catch up then failing. The last straw is probably when the discourse/drama about bottom/feminine/omega Luke being anti-tr4ns (which I don't get), and people start being a puritan about their preferred Lucemond Dynamics (top/bottom thing). It's all so silly, like they are the same ship with only slightly different dynamics, why bother hating on other people who doesn't have the same preference as theirs when they can just not interact.

The oversaturation & internal shipwars become tiring real fast. Even if a lot of content is supposed to be a good thing, for some reason it becomes one of the factors.

One of the silliest things I have ever come across on reading fic under that ship tag is when upon reading a supposedly "good fic" (that one of the readers start cross promoting it under other people's fic), the author opens the story by going on a rant how they don't like ABO, while writing & integrating ABO into their fic & making it a central theme. The author also calls ABO trope problematic (why do they even write a fanfic about it when they don't like the trope and call it "gross" then?)

When some people call the author out on it, they just go on this long paragraphic arguments in the comment section. It ends up being entertaining, but somehow tiring, too. I end up clicking out after reading the war in the comments.

You probably have read it. It's popular despite the author starting their fic with that hate note to the ABO trope.

Anyway, I just want to say I fully agree with you that some people are so toxic that their discourse ended up making others uncomfortable despite it being such a good pairing. Thank you for clearing it up. Now, I have a guess why I ended up falling off the pairing.

Also, I want to ask, do you think content oversaturation contributes to people leaving a ship ? Because I am on the fence about this too, on one side, contents keep a fandom alive, but on the other, it makes me dislike a ship despite liking it beforehand (could be because of other reasons, I just haven't discover it I guess).

I want to ask you a lot more, your opinions are really interesting. Thank you for engaging in QnA (ignore those people who are just trying to argue with you by submitting anon, I read them, and they come across as somewhat trying to rile you up).

It's fine if you don't answer this, I just want to send it because I do like going through your account, reading your responses, and see the discussion why & how you don't follow this certain pairing anymore (it is rarely discussed, so discovering your answers are interesting).

Sorry if some terms are unfamiliar/hard to understand, English isn't my first language.

God i am so sorry for how long it has taken me to get to your ask. No excuse, I have just been exceptionally lazy over the past few months and I cannot promise that this won't happen again however I am trying to avoid doing my real life job so here I am. Also your English is perfect so dont worry. It is better than mine and it is my first language 👍. I have a feeling that for as long as your ask was, my answer will be equally as long.

I am with you re. the internal ship wars. Let people read what they want to read and write what they want to write and it's all golden. I cannot stand people who try to dictate and police what others do be it in fan art, in a fic or, on a few memorable occasions, what people post on the Lucemond tumblr hash-tag.

Ahh yeah I do vaguely remember coming across an abo fic where the author was open on how they thought the trope was problematic which I found quite funny but it is a trope that is extremely popular in the fandom and, at the time, I thought that it wasn't that surprising that authors who haven't previously written the trope would expand into it, especially when hits/kudos began to dwindle across the whole fandom. However I mind reading an ask answer on here ages ago about how popular abo is in Lucemond and a really good point made was that abo is just a really good way of removing obstacles you have plot wise when you have a same sex ship, especially in a universe such as HoTD and GoT where canon is so detailed and lore heavy. That may be why writers who don't agree with the underlying tropes still utilise abo as it means you are not having to spend chapter or chaper trying to untangle a way to make the story work in a canon setting.  I do think there is a way to do abo without the problematic aspect some people have with it but I suppose its all down to how much of the trope you take issue with. It's something I have done in the past (both use it as a easy plot device and remove the aspects of the trope that I dont particularly jive with as a reader) and will probably do more of going forward.

In terms of oversaturation and people leaving the ship I dont think it was/is an issue with Lucemond as such. I just think Lucemond was always a ship which, with the benefit of hindsight, was destined for a relatively short shelf-life just by its very nature - at the end of the day the ship involves one person who is canonically dead in a show that is only on its first season with some very popular characters who are either still to make their debut or ones who will take more of a center stage in the following seasons. From being in a number of fandoms the truly popular ships which are able to continue to retain the levels of fan interaction that they had at the beginning were able to do so because the two characters in a ship continously interacted in a show/film (even if it is only a few scenes every now and then) which galvanised shippers to create more content. Lucemond simply doesn't have that as one character is dragon food. The discourse, IMO, just hastened the rate in which people left.

I think the downside to how quickly the ship exploded did contribute to is making people stuck in their ways somewhat. People have their preferences on what they want Aemond and Luke to act like and who they are and it makes it difficult for creators who want to go out of the box to get a foothold - the result of that is that they just go to different fandoms where they don't get shit for having one character bottom and the other topping or get thousands of notifications because yet another argument has broken out in a comments section but things will likely pick up once the new season hits.

[follower-of-odin]

24, nearly 25. Cis white guy. Bi, but you wouldn't know it from looking at me. Mostly into women. Taken; sorry, but not sorry, as my partner is lovely, and I cherish them. New Uncle. I'm still living with family... there's a long story behind that .

I have been Heathen for... almost 10 years. That amazes even me. Some of those years, I was still officially a member of the Mormon church, only because, as the son of a living mormon returned missionary, and a dead pioneer mormon mom, I was sure I wouldn't be allowed to officially leave. My ex-mormon background is a little more complex than that, but I figured it's worth mentioning.

I'm very depressed, and, though a believing Heathen, I have not been a practicing one for a while. This is in large part due to still being dependent, and, therefore, unable to provide the offerings to them that I wish I could. Depression is also a contributing factor, as well as the settler colonial situation I live in... as a settler... on land where these gods were not previously worshiped. The gods, at least whichever gods from whichever pantheon were responsible for this corner of the world, made what is available here, and therefore, whatever grows here is already theirs. Just as I can't give my neighbor the house he already owns, I feel I can't give an offering of, say, strawberries, to the beings who created and own the strawberries. And if it doesn't belong to the gods, it rightfully belongs to the native inhabitants. Yes, I was born here, and it's all that I know, to whatever extent I know it, but that isn't what I mean, and anybody reading this already knew that. An offering is a sacrifice, and it isn't a sacrifice if it isn't something which you personally owned, had the right to, and gave up. Besides, how much dominion do they have here? The land spirits are totally different, and my ancestors most likely owned slaves, Indigenous and maybe even Black, so I'm not worshiping my ancestors, at least not the biological ones. Maybe my mother, rest her soul, but that's it. Can't believe I used to think the Mormons didn't own slaves. "They were racist, yeah, but they fucked off from the US, so I guess they must have been so racist, they didn't even want to own slaves, because then they'd have to be around non-white people." Nope. Not the case. They brought slaves into Utah, and bought Paiute slaves in there, many of whom were children. Horrifying shit.

Perhaps I'm hard on myself; I've often heard that. On the other hand...well, really, I don't know if there's a way out of that. It's largely, though not exclusively, other white people, and/or white settlers, who have told me I'm too hard on myself when it comes to the intersection of colonialism and modern Heathenry. Some people of color have also told me this, but, though people of color, they aren't Indigenous to this land. On the other hand, I don't expect, don't have the right, to seek absolution from an Indigenous person. They're working hard just to survive after centuries of Hell, the last thing any of them need or want is to coddle some white guy who thinks he's so different from the others just because, though culturally Christian, he seeks to de-Christianize himself, by adopting yet another European* tradition. Yeah, real special there, dude, you're so different and non-hegemonic, hanging around in a basement like a recluse, waiting for your family to stabilize so you can finally live your life and maybe make a small difference someday, or so you keep telling yourself. Although I suppose the guilt is, paradoxically, to help me feel better. I'm not helping anyone, but I feel guilty and angry at myself over that, and I figure that at least someone who is guilty by inaction is going through mental and emotional pain, so some small measure of justice is satisfied. Nobody is helped, but a bad person hurts. If that is justice, that's some poor justice.

I was going to make this a short pinned introduction post, to explain why I sound this way, but this isn't short, is more than an introduction, and I won't pin it. Against my better judgment, I'll still post this.

*Yes, I'm fully aware that Judaea, the homeland of Yeshua, is in Western Asia. Let's be real, though - it isn't Assyrian Christianity, or Coptic Christianity, or Armenian Christianity, or other forms of Christianity that have reigned in Europe for almost 2 millennia, which gave birth to religions such as Roman Christianity, Lutheranism, or Mormonism. Those last 3 derive from the European Christian traditions, which are dominant in the US. This is why I described Christianity as European; the totality of Christianity isn't European, Christianity isn't inherently European, but the dominant forms of Christianity in my country are European.